#well. you could be a willing victim. but that's on her!

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

In order to keep herself from rotting away completely, Cleo has to periodically replace her limbs (ranging from one pinky finger to an entire leg) organs, patches of skin, and just about any other body part you could think of. Including bones.

In order to maintain his person-shaped form, Jevin has to mold his slimey body around a person-shaped skeleton to help him hold his shape.

Luckily for both of them, the Hermits are happy to donate. They'll just respawn good as new, after all!

Unluckily for whatever poor schmuck ends up on the dissection table, they both like to hoard all the good bones specifically to bother the other. At best, this leads to intense negotiations over how badly Jevin really needs all those tiny inner ear bones, especially considering he doesn't even have ears. At worst, this has lead to Cleo and Jevin fighting to the death over Grian's collarbone. (Cleo didn't even need the collarbone, Grian's hollow bird bones don't really work well as replacements. All they really needed was his right lung, but when Jevin showed up unannounced to their dissection of their willing victim donator and started taking bones without asking, all bets were off.)

Sometimes the victim donator decides to go through another respawn so both Cleo and Jevin can have a set. Sometimes they'd rather just watch the chaos.

-Mod Mleem

[astral-aromance]

While I do agree with you that the enchanment theory is pretty misogynistic/victim blame-y, I have always found that specific part of the story in general incredibly unfitting in the overall tale of B&L, and, dare I say, forced?

Luthien is NOT a damsel in distress and is an incredibly powerful being. Which is CLEARLY shown to us. I just never understand how she, who bested Morgoth, could so easily be taken by two random guys who just happened to have a notorious dad. THAT part feels equally misogynistic to me because there's no way that would happen to her! There's simply no way that she wouldn't have knocked them out the moment they approached her, and she sensed their intentions. Huan could've come to her in any other way, and I would buy that easily, but the kidnapping and captivity? Feels wrong to me. Victimising Luthien like that is unbefitting of her character, of her strength. I get that the story needed villains, but it could've made them a bit more powerful than Guy 1 and Guy 2 imo.

You could use the excuse that perhaps Luthien didn't want to kill/harm other elves, and thus went with them without resisting. But I'm sure she knew exactly who the SOF were and what they did to her kin in Alqualondë, and so would have viewed them as evil. Besides, Morgoth wasn't harmed by her either, why didn't she just use her sleep spell on c&c? The idea that she was suddenly powerless and reliant on the help of a magic dog to escape... i don't feel like it makes sense at all!

Both the idea that she caused her captivity herself and the idea that she was helpless to C&C's whims and lust until a man (in this case a magic dog, but still a masculine character) saved her, feel misogynistic to me. She could and SHOULD have whacked them on the head with a big stick!

(Also, I DO like the idea that Luthien wasn't pure and perfect, but multifaceted and had a real personality outside of Beren and her beauty. Let her be willing to use enchantments to get what she wants from people. Give her some on her father's pride, damnit! Give her some of her mother's creepiness!)

And if you wrote a fic/explored an HC where she happened to enchant some Ñoldor princes because she wanted a taste, good for her. Doesn't immediately make you a misogynist.)

BUT that theory you presented is certainly a very interesting one! I can definitely see it, fits well into the overall writing of Tolkien.

as blatantly misogynistic as the "luthien enchanted celegorm" theory/headcanon/whatever they call it is, i do think an interesting concept is a celegorm who convinces himself that luthien enchanted him to explain his own abhorrent behavior, because even he can't quite accept how low he's gone -- i.e. he tells himself that the lust and desire to possess luthien that at least significantly motivated his actions toward her was a result of some maiarin enchantment on her part. it doesn't quite align with my personal reading of the character (though it's not wholly incompatible with it either), but celegorm with his own hellfire-adjacent musical number would be a hell of an aesthetic

[asukiess]

I think falling for emilie would be x1000 times worse than falling for a straight woman because she also doesn't even register nathalie as anything other than a means to an end. once she's caught on to how you feel, it's just over, it's so obvious, written on nathalie's face, and nothing's worse than being prey to someone who likes to play with their food

[messangerforthestars]

“We need more morally gray characters” you guys can barely handle topaz and jade.

[dutybcrne]

Thinkings thinkings of Fatui!Kaeya have been reawakened in reviewing Arle's teasers/animations

[iconicname]

The same goes for anya x curly too it may seem cute, but curly was essentially a boy mom with Jimmy as the "boy." Honestly, I think at most anya and curly could be tentatively reconciled friends post fix-it ending or whatever which would take a lot of work on curly's part and giving a lot of forgiveness (If shes willing ofc) on anya's part.

obviously, do what you want i could literally not care less what yall do i just wish fandoms were less shipping-oriented sometimes :/

weird accidental character analysis/rant below

Look, I too, am not immune to the 'oh, curly's kinda cute' thing people have going on. I get it, but I don't want to be blinded by it.

I think people forget that pre-crash curly was a miserable and incompetent guy who stuck around and kept jimmy around for a reason, (while yeah the birthday scene made it clear that he's a nice enough person that pre-crash crew generally had a good opinion of him and he may seem better when side by side with someone like jimmy but that man is nowhere near the picture of a "well-rounded man)

The reason doesn't have to be deliberate or anything like that, it could be that Curly silently never grew out of the dismissal of SA/the female experience mentality which allowed someone like Jimmy to be his close friend for so long. or, in his own words he preferred looking at the bigger picture but because he was so focused on Jimmy's wellbeing (y'know immediately rushing to fucking Jimmy to assure him that everything was going to be okay after ANYA confessed to being pregnant and said that she fears jimmy enough to hide a gun from him that if it were not for the fact that curly would not allow it she would have used to the gun to protect herself. in that scene, it clearly shows that Curly prioritized Jimmy's well-being but also his feelings over Anya's even if if he didn't realize it. to Curly Jimmy was the bigger picture.

Jimmy is clearly not above abusing people he considers his "friends" especially someone who was catering to him to that degree, i.e the birthday cake scene ("both" of them) and the multiple medicine-taking scenes, etc so over the years of knowing jimmy, Curly could have subconsciously internalized Jimmy's sexist way of thinking, as to not create conflict (which is not an excuse) plus someone who may not be happy might cling to the people and disregard red flags in fear of isolation/losing something they consider positive (still not an excuse).

I don't think Curly didn't care for Anya or the rest of the crew, for that matter, but because he focused on catering to Jimmy, he hurt the people Jimmy hurt.

I like to think that Anya and Curly were very similar early days post-crash not just in the "victim to the same piece of shit" kind of way but that they both had the "thinking the best of bad people out of a sense of self-preservation". One of Anya's iconic phrases "Our worst moments don't make us monsters", I like to think that's in character for Curly to adopt that phrase as well for jimmy out of some hopeful delusion and or lasting affection for Jimmy (plus he was definitely delirious and in pain 24/7 mans not going to thinking clearly), especially since Anya and Curly were often together post-crash. but when Anya reaches her breaking point and ends her life it's Curly's breaking point too because it finally fully clicked how horrible Jimmy really was, as a co-worker, friend, and person. and that's why when Jimmy unlocked the gun case, we got the chilling, sardonic, and scorful laugh.

Ya'll have got to stop shipping Curly with Jimmy. That man is a rapist. He doesn't deserve the Yaoi fantasies.

[fangirl-dot-com]

🪡The Obvious String

*part of the reverse trope series*

Paring: Lestappen x MercedesDriver!Reader Genre: SMAU/Fluff/Humor Summary: The invisible string was so visible that everyone missed it but them. What are they? Rivals? Friends? Emotional Support Buddies? But they can't be lovers . . . can they?

*I took a lot of inspo from people on twitter. I think this is the most work I've ever done for a chapter before. the tweets alone took almost two hours to do. I absolutely love lestappen so this is super self-indulgent. but that's why I'm a writer. I hope you all enjoy!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Lando knew that there was something between the three of them. 

Anyone could see that. Instagram, twitter, TikTok, hell even the Formula 1 app was talking about it. The grid was getting very suspicious, but who could blame them. 

Max wasn’t putting out the fire by pulling his two childhood friends in as they posed for pictures. Charles couldn’t help but flash his God-given dimples at the Dutchman or the Briton girl. And Y/n, she was just as bad, blush on her cheeks every moment she was around them. 

So yeah, everyone was talking. But, no one truly knew what exactly was going on. 

And that’s exactly what Lando was going to find out. (With the help of his fellow 16 drivers.)

His first victim: the French bestie of the non-French man. 

“I have no clue what is going on between the three,” was the first thing that came out of Pierre’s mouth when Lando showed up to his driver’s room door. The poor McLaren driver hadn’t even gotten a word out. 

Lando rolled his eyes. “You have to know something. And you call yourself Charles’s best mate.” 

Pierre threw his hands up. “Non, apparently that is Y/n and Max. I’ve been kicked to the side.” 

The Alpine driver definitely wasn’t bitter or anything. He was actually thankful that you and Max had been able to keep an eye on Charles when he couldn’t. Knowing that the Monegasque had frequent delf-deprecating thoughts, he felt better that he had the two of you. 

Pierre turned to Lando. “Aren’t you supposed to Max’s best friend as well? How would I know something that you don’t.” 

Now that made Lando’s brows furrow. He was supposed to be Max’s best friend. And maybe that’s why he felt a bit peeved to not know what was supposedly going on between you, him, and Charles. His arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” he muttered, turning away to the door. 

The Frenchman scoffed. “Good luck mate. We’ve been trying since 2019.” 

“We?” 

Lewis was not expecting the numerous knocks at his door during media day. The Briton held his breath, willing the unexpected visitors to give up and go away. Yet, a sigh left his lips once the knocking started up again. He pulled himself off of his couch and walked over. 

When the door swung in, two bodies brushed against his side. 

His eye brows raised. “Yes, welcome. Come right in. Oh, thank you Lewis for allowing us to disturb your peace.” 

Lando chewed his lip. “Yeah, thanks man.” 

Pierre took a look around the room. “Thank you Lewis.” 

The papaya clad driver took a seat exactly where Lewis’s had been sitting, which cause Lewis to glare at him. 

“And why are the two of you here?” 

Pierre huffed, looking at the pictures on Lewis’s wall. 

“Ask him.” A finger pointed at Lando, making the Briton look up from his phone. 

“Oh yeah. Do you know. . . ”

Once again, Lando couldn’t even finish his sentence because Lewis interrupted him. 

“No, I don’t know what’s going on between Y/n, Max, and Charles. Honestly Lando, no one knows and I don’t think they know either.” 

Lando leaned his head back and groaned. 

“But how could they not? They all make goo-goo eyes at each other. And it’s worse on the podium.” 

“At least you haven’t bit on the podium with two-thirds of the groups. It’s insufferable man. They can’t go without talking about each other for more than a few moments.”

A laugh left Pierre’s lips. “Oh yeah. It’s always ‘Y/n was so strong on corner 2’ or ‘Pierre, did you see how Max overtook Checo?’ And then ‘Oh Charles was told to stay behind again. He really needs to ignore them.’ It makes me want to puke every time.” 

Lando scratched his chin. “Now that I’m thinking about it, you’re right. It was like how Max and Charles completely ignored me in China. They kept looking at Y/n below!” 

The last few words had a slight whine to them. Charles had been quick enough to catch Checo on the last lap, and placed himself in P3 after Lando. 

The Alpine driver looked lost. “Lewis, you’ve been Y/n’s teammate for almost three years. How can you not know anything.” 

All he got was a glare back. 

“Like I said, Gasly, I don’t even think they know something is going on. It’s pathetic honestly.” 

Lando put his head in his hands. “She must be pining. Don’t you two do girls night or at least something like that?” 

“Lando, she spends all her free moments with Max and Charles. How can she be pining to me if she doesn’t leave their side.” 

It was quite for a moment before Lando snapped. 

“I’ve got it. If we want grid gossip, we got to go to the source.” 

“No Lando, I don’t know if Max, Charles, and Y/n are in a secret relationship. And I don’t think they think of each other like that.” 

The groan that Lando let out was so loud it made a couple of people look their way. George, the tall, lanky Briton was set to take Lewis’s seat for 2025 after two years in Williams. The driver pool was going crazy. 

Logan was returning to Formula 1 with HAAS after a brief sabbatical and would be a teammate pair with Oliver Bearman. Nico and Daniel of all people were going to Audi. Liam was set to take the second Red Bull seat. And Carlos, well, no one really knew, but rumors said that he was going to return with Audi when they caught up with the regulations in 2027. 

The McLaren driver was close to pulling his curls out. 

“But George.” 

Lando was now full on whining. George seemed exasperated and shrugged. 

“We’re not that close anyway. We aren’t even teammates yet. And you knew how she yelled at me that one time that my car scraped a hole in Max’s car.” 

The group of four winced at the memory. 

Max had just finished yelling at George, calling him every name under the sun. And then you had shown up to double it. The Williams, well, now Mercedes driver, was thankful that Charles had shown up to drag the two of you away. 

Lewis looked a bit pale. 

“Yeah. I don’t think she’s fully forgiven me for Silverstone 2021.” 

Lando turned to Lewis. “But they were all still fighting at that point. Remember the whole unfollowing they did in 2019?” 

Pierre snorted. “Of course we remember. That doesn’t mean that they didn’t still care about each other. You know that Charles and Y/n were the first ones to congratulate Max after he won the championship in Abu Dhabi. And then her and Max practically tackled Charles in Japan in 2022. I don’t even want to imagine when Y/n wins her championship.”  

Lando ran a hand down his face. 

“Well, if Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis and George don’t know. Then who would?” 

George cocked his head. 

“Have you asked Daniel? You know that he and Max are pretty close.” 

Lando’s eyes widened. “Why did I not think of that. George I could kiss you!” 

George’s face scrunched. “No thank you. I don’t want to be anywhere near your lips.” 

Lewis was already at the door, wanting to get a move on. “Let’s go. George you’re coming too. If we get to the bottom of this, you’re going to have to learn how to deal with all three.” 

A shudder ran down George’s spine. He did not want to imagine the horror of sharing a podium with all of them. He’s heard enough stories. 

When they got to Daniel’s motorhome, the Australian was peacefully talking with Oscar. Lando had run up to them and was currently hunched over, trying to catch his breath. 

“Do,” inhale, “you two,” exhale, “know if,” inhale and heave, “there’s something,” exhale, “going on,” inhale, “with. . .”

Daniel sighed. “Max, Charles, and Y/n?” 

Lando shot up, eyes full of hope. Lewis nodded next to him. 

“Yes! Do you?” 

The older Aussie wanted to smirk as he saw hope fill the group’s faces. He nodded a bit, and Lando looked like someone told him that his birthday and Christmas had come early. 

“No.” 

The McLaren driver fell to the ground. Pierre smacked Daniel on the shoulder. 

“Why would you do that!” 

Now Lewis was the one whining. 

“Because it was funny. Mate, they’ve been like this since Max joined in 2018. Even then, it was worse than whatever this is.” 

The Mercedes driver of the group let out another groan for what felt like the millionth time in that hour. 

“Max was insufferable in 2018. Taking his sim everywhere so that he could game and race with them online. And the multiple phone calls. I think Max partied harder for Charles’s F2 champion win and Y/n’s F3 championship than his first race win.” 

“Ok, but that’s kind of cute.” 

All eyes landed on Oscar. 

The younger Aussie’s eyes bulged. “What?” 

Daniel pointed a finger at him. “If Max hears you say cute in any way, shape, or form that is distinctly near his name, he will come after you.”  

An audible gulp was heard. 

Lando had begun to pace. “Well, if I don’t know, Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis doesn’t know, George doesn’t know, Oscar doesn’t know, and Daniel doesn’t know, then who would know?”

Everyone looked a little lost. 

“Aha!” 

The two papaya drivers jumped out of reflex. Lando’s head turned violently toward Lewis. 

“What!” 

He held his phone up with a contact showing. 

“We call Seb.” 

“Lewis, like I’ve told you. Charles hasn’t told me anything.” 

For the sake of everyone around in the paddock, they held in their groans. 

“But Seb, you were practically Charles’s grid-dad. You have to know something!” Daniel said, face nearly in Lewis’s phone, as if Sebastian could hear him better. 

A sigh was heard through the speaker. 

“Charles was nothing less than a terror in 2019. I think the calmest anyone has seen him was 2018 when his car didn’t go fast enough for him to catch anyone.” 

Lewis hummed. “That’s true.” 

“Because everyone there should know that 2019 was the year of them. Every headline was all about them. And don’t get me started on when they had that big fight. I had to hear everything about it every. single. weekend.” 

Daniel nodded. “It was the same with Max. If Fernando was here, he could say the same for Y/n since she was still racing with Alpine at the time.” 

Oscar had completely forgotten about Fernando being Y/n’s teammate for half a season before she made the jump to Williams to replace Kubica to race alongside Nicholas Latiffi. The young Aussie had looked up to the older female when he was making the decision to leave Alpine. She had personally congratulated him on the move and gave him a wink. Well, had tried to before Max and Charles dragged her away. 

Sebastian had gone quiet over the phone. 

“Has anyone actually asked them if they’re together or not? Instead of just asking everyone else about a matter that deeply involves the three of them?” 

Their silence had answered for them. 

Lando grabbed Lewis’s phone out of his hand. 

“Thank you Seb! We’ll get right on it!” 

“Hey!” 

It was too late and Lando had already hung up and was passing the phone back to his fellow Briton. 

“Guys, we can’t ask them.” 

“What!” Pierre yelled. 

“Think about it. If we just go and ask, they’re going to make excuses. We won’t get a right answer.” 

“Lando, you’re being unreal. Let’s just go ask them,” George said. 

“Ask them what?” 

The six of them jumped out of their skin at the new arrival of a familiar voice. Lando froze before slowly turning around, to come face to face with you, Charles, and Max, all looking cozy for media day. 

“Uh, nothing?” Lando squeaked out, eyes darting around so he wouldn’t have to look at the trio. 

Max snorted. “Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.” 

He took a sip of his Red Bull. 

Daniel looked panicked. “We were just wanting to ask, uh, Lewis and Nico if they had forgiven each other yet?” 

“Hey!” 

Charles raised his eyebrows. “Why do you seem so unsure? And Lewis is right there mate. Kind of rude to talk about his problems in front of him.” 

“Thank you Charles.” 

The Monegasque hummed as he turned to Max. His mouth dropped. 

“Max, I thought I told you to stop drinking that stuff. It’s bad for your heart.” 

The Dutchman shrugged and took another sip, just to spite the Ferrari driver. You rolled your eyes, knowing a playfight was just around the corner. 

Oscar’s eyes narrowed as he looked over the trio’s choice of outfits. 

“Y/n, are those Charles’s cloud pants? Charles is that Max’s cap? And Max is that Charles’s Monza hoodie.” 

The arguing that was beginning to build between the two male drivers suddenly stopped. Your eyes widened as you jerked your head toward them. 

Sure enough, Charles’s hat was not bright red and it had the number 1 on it, something that Charles lost to Max in 2023. You leaned back to look at the hoodie Max was wearing, and indeed it had the iconic podium scene on the back of it. The two males looked toward your pants. The bright white clouds seemed to stare back at them. 

“Uh, yes?” you asked. “But we share clothes all the time. It’s not a big deal.” 

Max and Charles nodded before Charles was hit with a thought. 

“Oh, chéri, I forgot to tell you that your dry cleaning was picked up a few hours ago and is back at the hotel,” he said as he looked at his phone, completely missing the six pairs of wide eyes that were now looking at him. 

Max smirked as he leaned over and kissed the top of Charles’s head. 

“Thank you schatje.” 

This time, a whine came from you. 

“I’m being left out,” you muttered, crossing your arms. However, the two were not having it and quickly brought you into their arms. 

Lando stared, blinked, and stared some more before he rubbed his eyes. He completely believed that the three would disappear when his hands lowered, but he caught Max in the middle of kissing your lips. 

“WHAT?” 

You turned back to the group. 

“Are you all fine?” 

Lewis threw his hands up. “I’m done. Call me when we need to go to the media.” 

The door opened quickly, allowing Lewis to slip out. 

Pierre looked a bit pale. “What? When? Where? Why?”

Charles shrugged. “We’re together. After my championship. The hotel. We love each other.” 

Daniel sighed. “So you’ve been together since 2022?” 

Max rolled his eyes. “No.” 

“But Charles just said his championship!” Oscar explained, hands outstretched. 

It was your turn to smile. “His F2 championship. We’ve been together since 2017.” 

A long sigh came from Lando. “I think I need to sit down.” 

Daniel’s door swung back open, revealing Lewis once again. He also seemed out of breath. His hands were on his knees for a bit until he straightened back up. 

“You’re telling me that you three have been together SINCE 2017!” 

You nodded. “Yes.” 

Pierre pouted. “But what about 2019?” 

The three of you winced in a synchronized matter. With a quick look, Max was the one to sigh. His hands dug into the front pocket of the cozy, black hoodie. 

“Long story short, we took a small break until Y/n won in Brazil. We all got our heads out of our asses and apologized.” 

Oscar rose an eyebrow. “Then why haven’t you followed each other back on Instagram.”

A snort from you made the two men chuckle. You simply shrugged your shoulders. 

“Too lazy? We don’t feel like breaking the internet.” 

Lando took a seat on Daniel’s couch. “Why haven’t you told anyone?” 

Charles ran a hand over his face. “Lando, we race in countries where people are killed for being homosexual. We can’t risk anything.” 

The air suddenly took a solemn turn as the McLaren driver nodded, truly taking in the situation. Charles chewed his lip in anxiety, while Max picked at his fingers. You were looking at the group. 

“You won’t tell anyone right?” 

Suddenly, everyone felt bad for wanting to find out. They had pushed the three to confess something that they might not have wanted people to know about at that time. What a group of friends they were. 

Lando hung his head. “We won’t. I’m sorry that we asked about it before you three were obviously ready to tell someone.” 

Another snort left Charles’s lips as his hand rested on his mouth. Max had a shit-eating grin on his face, you had one to match. 

Pierre looked at them with a skeptical expression. “Something to tell us?” 

Max’s shoulders raised. “People know. You aren’t the first ones to know.” 

Lewis sighed, shoulder sagging. George put a hand on the older Briton’s shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. Lando looked close to losing it. His hazel eyes narrowed at the trio. 

“Then . . . who knows?” 

Charles’s eyes looked up a bit as he started to count. 

“Uh, Christian, Fred, Toto, Kimi.” 

You pulled out his fingers and counted.  

“Jensen, Mark, uh, Nico.” 

Lewis looked like he wanted to pass out. 

Max smirked. 

“Oh, and Seb.” 

There was silence amongst the group. 

“Oh he is so dead.” 

“Lando you can’t kill Seb!” 

“Sorry Lewis, but this is his fault!” 

“Calm down Lando. You’ll lose your seat.” 

“Oscar, I just want to talk to Seb. Who has his phone number?” 

“I am not giving you his number Lando.” 

“I’m not asking you Lewis. Daniel, I know you have it.” 

You smiled in Max and Charles’s arms as Lando started to get physical, trying to grab Daniel’s phone. 

You leaned up, immediately being engulfed in Max’s aftershave. “Should we stop them?” 

Charles leaned a bit forward to look at his two lovers. A soft smile formed on his face, before a smirk replaced it. 

“Nah.” 

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlm @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicore @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-su @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Softer, Softest ♡

♡ Pairing: mafia!boss!san x stripper!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: smut/angst/fluff

♡ Summary: A fun night of stripping takes a turn when an encounter with a particularly unpleasant customer leaves you in tears, running to your boss seeking comfort and protection. Both things he’s more than willing to give.

♡ Word Count: 3.6k-ish

♡ Warnings: explores themes of body insecurities, reader has her arm grabbed (nothing violent but brutal violence against the person who grabbed it), mentions of blood/injuries (not yours, babes), kissing, heavy body worship, san’s obsessed with you, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), clit sucking, nipple pinching, a lil manhandling, hair pulling, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, low key mirror sex, pet names (baby, pretty).

♡ A/N: Hello my loves, I wrote this little fic for any of my chubby darlings out there who might not know or might need reminding that their bodies are gorgeous, worth loving, and desirable. I also really love myself a hot criminal and who better than San? K, let me shut up now. Just know I love you. Your body’s amazing. Never forget that ❤️

Midnight. Friday. The back alley of a strip club. The best in town. The strip club, not the alley. It’s a dark, starless night. The smell of fresh rain hangs in the air, the aftermath of a sudden downpour that left the ground slick with rain. Music from inside the club bleeds through the cracks of a heavy steel door. A neon red EXIT sign hangs overhead. The door creaks on its hinges as it swings open, sending the music blaring out into the night and with it comes a body. The blur of one at first, flying through the air, and then the weight of it. The heavy thud of bruised flesh and cracked bone colliding with the asphalt. 

The man on the ground is unremarkable, nothing about him worth noting except the mangled nose that gushes blood down his face, leaking into the cavernous gash that is his busted lip. He said the wrong thing to the wrong person and now he can’t speak at all, only mumble. A brushed leather Dolce and Gabbana shoe collides with his cheek. His blood splashes scarlet against the pitch black soles, a horrible crack emitting from his jaw as more pressure’s applied. Now this man? He’s remarkable. He’s muscular, defined in every way so that, even through his black dress shirt, you can read the broadness of his shoulders. His features are sharp and intense. The kind you either fall for or fall victim to. There’s no in between. He’s a handsome devil but a devil all the same. 

“You look like shit” San sighs, effortlessly kicking the man onto his back. He rolls his sleeves up, kneeling beside the man like a hunter inspecting its fallen prey. He stares down at him, emotionless, void of anything close to that thing we call remorse.  

The man heaves in a breath of air before coughing it back out. “Mmm s-s-sorry” he croaks, “I didn’t know she was anyone fucking special.” 

San grips the man’s face, grinning in a way that isn’t the least bit friendly. He squeezes tightly, forcing jagged teeth to press into the soft flesh of the man’s cheeks. “Well now you do.”

This is your boss and you, tucked away safe and warm in his office, are something special. But a part of you knew this already. You downplay it when the other girls point it out. You pretend not to notice the clear signs of favoritism but they’re there in even the smallest interaction between the two of you. Since day one San’s been your protector, your admirer. You’ve denied it a million times, convincing yourself you’re simply making more of things than what’s there. Still, after everything happened you couldn’t fathom running into the arms of anyone else. 

You were dancing like any other night—working your section and getting your tips—when some asshole grabbed you by the arm, demanding your presence in one of the private rooms. Usually you could count on security to drag him out but on weekends the club gets packed and things slip through the cracks. Sadly tonight you were one of them so, like a proper lady, you told him to kiss your ass and sent the tip of your stiletto crashing into his balls. You might be a stripper but that doesn’t mean you’re some thing that men can treat however they wish. It’s a lesson he had to learn the hard way and you were happy to teach it to him. Two shots past drunk and embarrassed by your rejection he snapped, spewing the most vile things you’ve ever heard about yourself—about your body. 

It isn’t news to you that you’re one of the bigger girls here. San says that’s what makes you special, why customers come in to blow a check on you and you alone. He’s right, your bank account says so. The customers love you, they eat up every inch of your plush body. By all means you should feel like the baddest bitch in this building, simply because you are, but in that moment his words had reduced you to nothing. A few seconds ago you were twirling around the pole like a goddess now you found yourself scurrying back to the dressing room with tears in your eyes. 

At least that’s where you intended to go. Somewhere along the way you changed course, riding the velvet lined elevator to the third floor where San’s office sits at the end of a long hallway. At the time you hadn’t considered how much this might escalate the situation because, quite honestly, you didn’t care. More than feeling hurt, you were pissed the fuck off. Your tears were of anger and, whether you felt it at the time or not, you wanted that motherfucker to pay for it. 

This place you work at. There’s more to it than what’s on the surface. It’s easy to get so distracted by the luxury and the lights and the pretty girls dancing that you miss the truth of it all. In fact, that’s the point, but you know a mafia front when you see one. You aren’t oblivious. You know what this is, who San is, and maybe that’s exactly why you were tapping at his door. A damsel in distress in black lace lingerie.

San’s heart dropped when he saw his favorite girl in tears. He stopped everything, sending his men away so he could place all of his focus on you. Resting his jacket over your shoulders, he gently cradled your cheeks, brushing the tears away to ask quite simply, “Who did it?” 

You explained everything, how that asshole grabbed you and the things he said, and San’s anger grew quietly, simmering beneath a surface of calm. He took a seat at his desk, setting you down comfortably in his lap, and pulled up the security cameras. “Tell me when you see him, okay, baby?” he instructed sweetly, his palm massaging the smoothness of your thigh.

You nodded, struggling to focus on the screen with his hand on your thigh and him calling you “baby”. San touching you wasn’t a rare occasion but it was always something light. A hand on the small of your back or fingertips grazing your arm. Never this purposeful—this intimate. You couldn’t help imagining how it might feel if he gripped a little harder, moved a little higher. You felt your heart begin to race, your temperature rising the longer you sat there in his lap.

“That’s him” you sniffled, spotting that familiar face on the screen. San studied the screen a moment before turning back to you. “I’ll take care of it” he promised, his hand riding your thigh and coming to rest at the gentle curve of your hip. “And no more crying, baby. You’re too pretty to cry.” Too pretty to cry? Oh, but you were crying, absolutely weeping, only between your thighs this time. 

San disappeared from the office, leaving you too lost in the lingering haze of his touch to even think about your insecurities, but that only lasted so long. Alone in the quiet of his office, the self doubt began to creep back in. You tried to distract yourself by exploring your surroundings—the impressive collection of vintage whiskey, the gorgeously framed art hanging from the walls—but nothing could distract you from how uncomfortable you’d become in your own skin. It didn’t help that the office was lined with mirrors, reflecting glimpses of your figure with every turn.

At last out of distractions, you turn to face the mirrored image of yourself, letting San’s jacket slip to the floor. You strike a pose, a half hearted copy of something cute you might do on stage, and watch the way the fat of your body squishes together here or there. You strike another then another then another but they’re there in every pose. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs. Your weight shows in all of them. Pinching your lower belly you think of how the other girls have had work done. Maybe if you got some done yourself…

“I left him out back. Clean him up before someone sees” San says, pushing through the door, his phone pressed to his ear. 

You jump a bit at his arrival, scrambling to grab the jacket, but San slips in behind you, closing his arms around your waist before you can retrieve your safety blanket. You tense at first but find yourself settling into his embrace as if it’s the most natural place for you to be. 

“So, what was that?” he asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breath tickles your neck as he inhales your perfume and the sweet scent of honey and jasmine fills his lungs. You smell as beautiful as you are, as beautiful as everything about you is. 

“How’d everything go?” you press, quick to change the subject. Noticing a series of tiny red scrapes on the knuckles of his right hand, you carefully take it into yours, assessing the damage. 

San shrugs it off like it’s nothing. It still stings but it’s far from the worst pain he’s ever felt. “I said I’d take care of it. It’s been taken care of.” 

You giggle at the contrast of something so menacing being spoken by someone so regal. “San, you make it sound like you killed him.” 

He leans into your neck, his lips grazing your skin on their way up to your ear. You shiver at the contact and his hold on you tightens, your bodies pressed flush against each other so that you can feel his bulge pressed into the plush of your ass. 

“Killed him? Almost” he whispers, “I answered your question so it’s only fair you answer mine, isn’t it? What were you doing? I came in and you were…” San pinches your belly, his fingertips planting adoration where there was once doubt. 

“I…uh…I was…” you stutter, searching your brain for a believable lie but you can’t find a single one.“There’s this doctor, a few of the girls have gone to him to get some work done, and I was just thinking, I don’t know, maybe...why am I even telling you this? You don’t care and anyway, it’s silly.”

“It is silly” he agrees, notes of that quiet, controlled anger you witnessed earlier resurfacing, “But you’re wrong to say that I don’t care. I care about how you feel about yourself, I care about you. You must know that.”

“I mean, I know you care about me. You care about all of the girls” you say, hesitant to accept this as a profession of anything in particular. 

San spins you around, pinning you between the warmth of his body and the cool mahogany of the desk. “I don’t care for any other woman the way I do you.” 

There it is, a profession of something very particular. He’d hoped that you’d seen it by now. He wonders if he didn’t do a good enough job of showing you. It’s been so long before you, years even, that he had feelings like this for anyone. The world he operates in doesn’t allow for soft spots. Soft spots are how you make mistakes and when mistakes are life or death you can’t afford to make them but he couldn’t help himself with you. You caught his eye the day you walked in for your audition and you’re all he’s been able to see since. You’re so delicate, so beautiful, a perfect contrast to the toughness of his life. It’s why he protects you—why he always will. 

“Your body…” he says, his palms racing up and down your curves, “It’s perfect. There’s nothing about it that needs fixing. If you let that doctor touch you I’ll break both of his hands.” San’s gaze is heavy with lust, months of longing just begging to be satisfied. It burns him up inside, sets fire to his very being, and being kissed by the flames of that need is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. 

“Is that the way you romance women? With threats of violence?” you tease, draping your arms across his shoulders.

“Sometimes but usually it’s like this” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours. His tongue parts your lips, twining around yours to deepen the kiss. His movements are careful and deliberate. The kiss intoxicatingly slow. 

San grabs you by the hips, lifting you onto the desk and you let out a little squeak of surprise as he sets you down. “You’re so fucking cute” he grins, spreading your thighs to fit perfectly between them. 

“You think so?” you say so innocently it only makes him want to ravage you more. 

Tangling his fingers in your hair, he tilts your head to look back at the mirror, “Don’t you?” 

An unexpected wetness soaks the lace of your panties at the sight of your shared reflection. Nothing has changed about your body. It’s the same one you were picking apart, the same one you were doubting, and San loves everything about it. He praises it with his hands, with his fingertips, with whispered confessions of everything your body needs to hear. 

”I watch you sometimes when you’re dancing” he says, effortlessly doing away with your bra, “I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help myself when you look the way you do. It’s like you’ve put a spell on me. My little witch.”

San captures one of your breasts, kneading the plump flesh in the palm of his hand. He pinches your bud between his fingers, tugging at it just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. 

“But I don’t have any magic” you whimper, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. They pop open one by one, revealing a body that had to be sculpted by some divine feminine deity. You push the fabric away, your fingertips delighting in the perfection of her creation. 

San’s free hand reaches between you, stroking your clit through your panties. He groans at how soaked you are, your juices leaking through the lace to coat his fingers in your juices. “You do have magic, baby” he whispers, tucking your panties to the side, “It’s right here.”

“Aah, Sannie” you moan, your hands sliding down his abs as his fingers stretch you open. 

Your body falls back, a sharp chill coursing through you as your bare back hits the desk. San sinks his fingers deeper into your core, his cock stiffening at the sight of your body moving as hypnotically as it does on the pole. Only now it’s for him and only him. This is how San likes it, how he’s always wanted it to be. Him with his fingers buried deep into the warmth of your pussy, your walls greedily clenching around them, and you spread out across his desk, your gorgeous body on full display and your lips spilling out moans meant for his ears alone. 

Kneeling between your legs he pulls your panties aside harder this time, nearly tearing the fabric as he knots it in his fist. He brings his thumb to your clit, toying with it just to see how your body twitches with every touch. “How can a girl be this perfect?” he says, nearly salivating, “Even your pussy’s gorgeous.” There’s an audible wet sound, another sweet whimper escaping your throat, as his fingers slip out of your core and his tongue takes its place.

“San, wait…” you beg, grabbing at his hair, but you’re too late. Your attempt at pacing yourself is useless. His tongue’s already filling the space between your walls, wiggling and curling against your sweet spot. His dark hair knots around your fingers, your hips raising to ride every wave his tongue sends washing over you. 

San drags his tongue up through your petal soft folds, swirling it around your clit before diving into you again. He suckles at your clit, gently at first then faster, more ravenous. His gaze flicks up to you, taking in the way your belly jiggles and your breasts bounce. He’s drunk on your juices, already addicted to the way you coat his tongue. You taste like heaven and look like it too. It takes all of the self control he has to pry his mouth free of your pussy, snatching your panties down as he does. 

Standing back up, he grips your thighs, spreading you open to watch the arousal drip from your pussy, leaving pretty little drops on his desk. Your eyes are glued to him as he unzips his pants, letting his cock fall right between your legs. The swollen tip throbs against your lower belly, leaking precum, warm and sticky, on your skin. You rock your hips, clenching around air, craving friction from that deliciously veiny cock of his. 

“You want it, baby?” San teases, tapping the head of his cock against your clit. His length slips between your folds. They’re so smooth, so slick. Toying with your pussy’s like splashing in a lake. You’re wet enough to drown in.

“I want it, Sannie, aah, fuck…” you moan, your eyes widening at the realization that his tip’s pressed to your entrance now, stretching you the faintest bit. 

“Then tell me how perfect your body is. Tell me you love it.” He pushes in an inch more, stopping to leave your hole spread wide around his cock, still needy and deprived. 

The stretch has the room spinning, a single taste of him already making you want more. “My body’s, mmph, beautiful” you manage as he gradually feeds you more of him, “I love it.”

“Don’t stop. Keep telling me. Make me believe you” San demands, thrusting into you so hard that he bottoms out. 

You cry out at the force of the thrust, your lashes fluttering away tears, “I love, aah, my body. I love my body. It’s beautiful. It’s…it’s…”

Tucking his hands behind your knees, San pushes them to your chest, snapping his hips against you hard enough that your thighs jiggle around him. All of you does. Every stroke of his cock makes you tremble and he’s hardly able to keep still himself. You’re so tightly wound around his cock that he can feel all the finer details of your walls. They’re glued to him, sucking him in every time he even thinks about pulling back. 

Through heavy lids you watch the man you’ve only ever known to be a mountain crumble to pieces all because of you. San’s muscles are slick with sweat and a glossy haze dances over his eyes. His fingers are digging into your thighs, completely devouring them. He does what he can to swallow his moans but it’s impossible when you’re making him feel like his entire soul’s being snatched from his body. 

“You feel so fucking good” he grunts, planting breathless kisses up your leg, “Come here.”

San props your ankles up on his shoulders, hooking an arm around you and sitting you up so that you’re close enough to kiss. He grinds against your sweet spot, forcing his tongue down your throat so that every moan you set free echoes between his cheeks. Gripping the back of your neck, he slams into you, harder, faster, forcing your body to give into him. He fucks you until your eyes are rolling back, your mind too blank to recall anything that happened before this moment. There’s no thought of the incident, no thought of your insecurities. High on euphoria, your body feels beautiful, every inch of it. 

“S-San…” you whine, a familiar pressure building behind your belly. Your fingers begin to tingle as they cling to his muscles, searching for any stability they can reach. 

“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he coos, not letting up on you, not even for a second.

Pulling his arm away he lets you fall back on the desk. With one hand cupping your breast and the other circling your clit, he watches you fall apart in the palms of his hands. For so long he’s had to watch you from afar, pretending that he wasn’t utterly obsessed with you, but now you’re all his. His pretty, moaning, teary eyed girl pouring your cum down his cock while you repeat his name like it’s the only word you know. He’s so singularly focused on watching you hit your high that his own takes him by surprise. 

Grabbing him by the wrist, you lock eyes, a weak smile forming on your lips. “Fill me up, Sannie” you whisper, your voice sexy even in its brokenness.

San’s body shudders and you feel a new fullness inside of you. The warmth pools deep within you at first, cascading down your walls the more he empties himself into you. “Fuck, baby” he pants, catching himself before his body doubles over. He came so hard his ears are ringing and holding onto you is all he can do not to fall. You sit up to stroke his cheek and he kisses your wrist lovingly. You stare into each other’s eyes for a minute that lasts an eternity, letting yourselves get lost in one another’s gaze. 

San breaks the trance with a kiss, holding you like one would the most precious thing they own. “Tell me, baby, how do you feel now?” 

You contemplate his question, your attention drifting back to the reflection in the mirror. It’s all there. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs, and San looking at you like you’re the prettiest girl in the world. You turn back to him with a smile, “Beautiful.”

[6ronze]

WOMAN3AT3R!

𝒥𝐸𝒩𝒩𝐼𝐹𝐸𝑅𝒮 𝐵𝒪𝒟𝒴!fem!reader w her first victim : professor!nanami kento. warning(s): smut [18+] w little plot, intentional bimbo behaviour on ur part, unethical nanami, reader is in college, age gap (20’s & 30’s), possessed!reader duh, brief gore & cannibalistic descriptions, sir kink, grinding, eye-fucking, not proofread. wc is 2.3k

𝑁𝐴𝑆𝑇𝑌 chemistry professor at your school was notorious for failing most of the students in his class. But everyone around knew he’d slip in a pass any girl cute and desperate enough to bargain with him. Disliking his unfairness, you planned to use your looks to your advantage in order to ‘correct’ his ways.

nanami kento.

You’ve been hearing that name for the past 7 minutes you entered the building of your university. Students groaned and cursed his name, some lucky others giggling at his kind treatment towards them. Well, the only thing in common among those lucky few were that they were all women. At this point, coincidence wasn’t something you thought was involved anymore.

shrugging past the people crowding the damn place with ease, your eyes drifted to the signs on the top by the doors to each room, paying special attention to one specific office with nanami’s name. Your head tilted as you peaked in through the small slit of the parted door, gaze landing on the infamous professor.

He wasn’t bad looking, you noted. No, not bad looking at all. But sadly he had a bad tendency to allow passes to women willing to sleep with him, his flaw in his work ethic pissing you off. The fact that he was a man abusing his responsibilities to grade students unfairly at the cost of sex made you scowl internally with disgust.

So you decided to teach him a lesson—like all the creepy professors you did before him.

Onto your chemistry lecture, you entered his class, choosing to sit back up the higher rows of the auditorium. Of course the choice of your seat was strategic, meant to tease him from afar, catch his interest. And as the hours passed, it became more evident how you did exactly that.

The blond man had his eyes drifting upwards to you more often than he usually would, taking any chance he could to catch a glimpse of your cleavage, tits threatening to spill out from the low cut of your shirt with how much you leaned and rested your chest on your arms.

Fuck, you had him stuttering mid lecture with how unintentionally distracted he was from the sight of the innocent smiles your flashed him when your eyes met, the way you twirled a finger around strands of your hair. He cursed you for making him lose his train of thought, brows furrowing furthering with every passing minute in aching curiosity to know who the hell you were.

when his god forsaken lecture ended, you lingered, unmoving from your seat as if you knew for a fact that he would ask you to stay for a while.

And lo and behold, your predictions came true.

“Excuse me, miss. Would you mind if I had a small chat with you for a moment?” His smooth yet deep voice called out to you, his tone levelled but hinted with a hint of stoicism that would leave anyone wondering with anticipation.

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly at the way he tilted his head up to look at you, eyes scrutinising you shamelessly now that everyone else was gone. Fucking pervert.

“Yes, sir,” you purred in response, lips curling to a knowing smile. You revelled in the way the professor’s nose twitched, scrunching up for a mere moment at the way you addressed him.

Sir.

It wasn’t anything special, nothing new to him. But the way it rolled of your tongue so naturally, so sultry, made his cock jerk ever so subtly in his pants.

Your brow quirked when noticed his reaction, exhaling a sigh as you got up from your seat, not bothering to grab your things with you on your way down. Nanami went back to his desk, taking a seat and gesturing a hand to have her take a seat across him. But of course, you denied his offer, opting for a closer seat.

“What’s your name? I’ve never seen you in my classes before.”

You answered with your name while grabbing a chair to sit beside him, eyes never leaving his in the process. “Why? Am I in trouble, sir?” You taunted, leaning forward in your seat to give him a better view of your plump breasts, the angle letting him have a glimpse of them under your shirt.

No bra, the aroused professor noticed, averting his gaze quickly after to avoid suspicion.

“No, not at all. I’m just curious as to why you’ve decided to join my classes now of all times. Why not just skip for the entire year, yeah?” Nanami responded, sharp eyes assessing you with frightening attention. He brought his arms up to his chest, folding them tightly enough to flex the muscles underneath his clothes.

“Well.. I’ve heard you’re known for being.. resilient with the marks you give to selected students..” you began, trailing off with a meek smile, cheeks heating up on command to sell the dumb little girl act. “And I’ve been struggling with this subject specifically lately.. I just thought you’d be able to help me,” you pleaded shyly, voice growing fainter as you neared the end of your sentence.

Nanami on the other hand squeezed a hand on his bicep tight, hips shifting slightly in discomfort at the growing erection he had. As if he wasn’t turned on enough, your timidness mixed along with your lewdness had his cock pulsating against the restrictions of his pants. How he wanted to get him hands on you right then and there, laying you on his desk and burying himself deep into your wet heat.

But he held back, not wanting to scare off what seemed to was a poor girl trying to manage her grades.

“Then.. you know what you have to do right? I’m sure you’ve heard from.. the others,” he questioned, tilting his head slightly as he met your eyes for a moment, making sure you knew what you were getting yourself into.

Staying in character, you nodded at him, thighs rubbing against one another impatiently. Quickly after, nanami laid back into his desk chair, arms unfolding and resting on the armrests with his eyes fixated on your still. It was like he was instructing you through his gaze alone, and even you couldn’t deny the allure this man had despite his wrongs.

You got up from your seat and took patient steps close to him, climbing onto his lap to straddle him. His hands made their way to your hips almost immediately after you settled on him, spreading your legs wide and nestling your clothed pussy right onto his hard on.

The blond professor had his eyes undressing you, not making any effort to strip you despite himself. He wanted to see how you’d go on about pleasure, using his body to get yourself off. He wanted to know what you preferred. Though he was as unfair as he was, he was always attentive to his chosen girls, making sure they enjoyed their time just as much as he was. For him, pleasure goes both ways. And seeing his partner in ecstasy because of him was his mission in these affairs he would have.

“Go ahead. Hump, grind, jerk me off if you please,” he urged coolly, stern gaze glazed with desire. His hand squeezed your hips assuringly, coaxing your compliance. And being a good student you were, you obliged, beginning to rock your hips into him, feeling up the ridge of pants.

“Mmhm.. yes, sir,” you breathed, lashes fluttering with your gaze fixated on the space between your bodies where your hips met his, skirt hiking up with the help of your hand to expose your damp pussy sliding back and forth on his clothed cock.

Your eyes began alternating between nanami’s pulsating cock beneath you and his face, taking in the sight of the ever so strict professor melting in your hands. Just now, maybe, did you finally understand a bit the girls that kept coming back to him even after he passed their grades. His flushed face and parted lips made you feel in control, even though you knew he was the one that truly held the reins.

Soft growls left his throat from the foreplay, thighs tensing under yours at your grinding. You could feel your slick escape the fabric of your panties, staining his black trousers.

The subtle jumps of his dick made you curious, persuading you to quicken the pace and travel a hand down to his fly, unzipping his pants and tugging it down along with his boxers to release his heavy cock. It sprung out with the tip an angry shade of red, drooling precum with its pulsating tip. You cooed at the sight, wrapping a hand around it.

Your started off with slow, long strokes, earning hitched groans from the man’s throat. You repeated the act, twisting and squeezing his thick girth just enough to coax more of his clear fluids until it dripped down to touch your hand. Your thumb rubbed over the head, gathering and smearing the pre all over his inflamed flesh.

“Enough of this, girl. Do what you came here to do,” nanami grunted, gravelly voice letting out a subtle growl right after. His fingers had been clawing on the flesh of your hips impatiently every since you took his cock in your hand, hips subtly shifting to thrust up into your smaller palm.

“Getting needy?” you teased with a sly grin, chuckling at his response; a hoarse fuck you.

With a soft sigh, you lifted yourself up from his thighs, obliging to his rough pleading. You positioned yourself so you were hovering right above his dick, his dull nails digging insistently into your skin barely restraining himself from just slamming you down onto his weeping length. He could do it easily, burying himself deep into you impatiently with an easy snap of your panties.

But he held back. Nanami continued to watch, your dominant hand moving down between your thighs to pull aside your lacy panties, fingers grazing the wet tip of his cock unintentionally, making him shudder. The damp fabric you tugged on exposed a glimpse of the wet pussy he was about to sink himself into, the sight making his loin heat up in a knot.

“Fuck, your so wet for me, darling. What’s that about me being needy again, hm?” Nanami’s eyes darting from your tantalising cunt to your face, quirking a challenging brow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you uttered with faux innocence, spreading your legs wider before lowering yourself on him, rubbing your glistening folds against his sensitive flesh. That shut him up quickly, for just a bit though. Because right after, his features slowly contorted in pleasure, deep moans leaving his throat along with low rumbles in his chest when you began sinking yourself down his shaft, your wet heat fluttering around him with every inch you took.

Nanami huffed, gasping a few short breaths before uttering a forced, “Yes, you do, princess. You’d know every-fucking-thing about being needy, wouldn’t you?”

You merely exhaled a heavy breath with half-hearted laughs in between, his hands guiding and helping you bounce on his heavy dick, fingers tucked under your shirt as his own hips rolled upwards to meet yours. Nothing but pants and groans filled the spacious hall, echoes of the professor’s eager moans bouncing off the walls along with your own whines.

You couldn’t help but lose your composure all the while fucking him, your motive lost in your hazy mind now that his blunt tip was abusing that one sweet spot of yours that other men had barely even reached—let alone discovered.

The filthy words of encouragement slipping past your oh-so-prim and proper professor rent surges of arousal throughout your body in shocks you didn’t even know were possible, your vision disturbed by the unshed tears pooling in your eyes.

Even with your entire body melting on his lap right now, the thought of devouring him whole never slipped past your mind, though it almost did. Fluttering your lashes to keep then open, you gazed at the blond man in front of you with his face flushed a deep shade of red, hips rutting up into you to chase his inevitable orgasm, and yours.

How could you possibly resist the inhumane urge in yourself that gnawed at you, whispered the most gruesome ways you could have him to yourself. Sinking your teeth into his bobbing throat, marking him so deeply that he’d question your true intentions, making him wonder if he was fucking a pitiful student or a serial killer. The mere thought brought you to the edge of ecstasy, pussy sucking his cock deeper into your depths while he dragged your body up and down on his aching dick like a fleshlight.

“For fuck’s sake— why’re you so impossibly tight,” the heaving man gritted, veins on his neck bulging till they reached his clenched jaw, jerking into you now that he could feel his balls begin to tighten. He was so close too soon. He wanted to try holding back but you were taking him so good he couldn’t even slow down, your lewd moans and squelches of your sopping cunt urging him to continue.

Before you could muster the energy to compose yourself to answer, one last snap of his hips had his cock spewing hot ropes of cum, the warmth of the thick fluid invading your pussy startling you. But it also brought on your own climax, your walls spasming around him uncontrollably all the while your juices spilled around his pulsating length.

You collapsed onto his larger body with ease, his raising chest welcoming you nicely. The professor basked in the afterglow of your shared climax, his arms wrapped around your quivering body in an effort to soothe you and himself.

Your breathes began to even out, regaining your composure after a moments of rest. He calmed down just as well, his chest no longer heaving. You took the opportunity to lift your head up from his chest, leaning in to his shoulder instead, turning to leave sloppy kisses on the side of his neck until you reached his ear.

“Maybe we should meet up again tonight, hm? Continue this little.. rendezvous,” you whispered sweetly against the shell of his ear, blowing a soft breath to tickle him a bit.

“What do you say, handsome?” You coaxed, lips curling to a devious smile with your eyes gleaming with levelled murderous intent. You knew just the place to have your nightly meal with him. Obviously, he was main course.

Figuratively. And literally.

[moonstruckme]

Hellooooo

Mae, could you maybe (absolutely no pressure or anything!!!) write something with Vampire!james x reader when he once again feeds from her and actually takes too much or so? Not like so much that it’s really bad or so but like too much, you know?

I haven’t thought about it a lot so I’m sorry that it’s so incomplete. The rest is yours to decide (as always)

(Sorry that my request is so messy, it’s the middle of the night for me)

Wasn't messy at all gorgeous! Thanks for requesting <3

cw: blood, lightheadedness/near fainting

vampire!James x fem!reader ♡ 682 words

You don’t notice it happening. You suppose that’s probably by design—vampires are supposed to drain their victims, after all, and that biology doesn’t account for your gentle boyfriend and his willing bloodbag. You’re not cognizant of any change between when your mind feels pleasantly fuzzy and when it starts to slip away from you altogether, dark spots blotting your vision and your bones losing their solidity. James notices, though, when you turn to mush in his hands. 

“Shit.” His voice is garbled by fang and slurred by gluttony, his arms encircling you to better prop you up. You feel a warm droplet of blood trudge down your front as he takes his mouth from you in a hurry. James swears again, wetting the wound to close it. “Shit, sweetheart, I’m sorry. Are you okay? Can you hear me?” 

You make some somnolent sound of reassurance, but it doesn’t seem to do its job well. James is panicky and upset, trying to calm himself enough to figure out what to do with you. 

“Okay.” He kisses your face, eyes watery. “I’m sorry. You’re okay. Let’s lay down, yeah? Come here.”

You’re not really up for following instructions, but James does the work himself, laying you sideways on the couch and propping your head on a pillow. 

“Stay awake, angel.” He lifts your legs some, holding your ankles in one hand while the other strokes up and down your leg soothingly. “Can you do that for me?” 

You hum. You’re feeling better already. It’s not like usual, where the fuzzy feeling starts to fade as soon as James takes his lips from you, but you’re beginning to feel more solid. “James, m’okay.” 

“I’m so sorry,” he says, voice hoarse with emotion. “How do you feel? Do you want some water?” 

“I feel better.” You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Just a little…a little weird. Hey. Jamie.” You cover his hand on your leg with yours. Your boyfriend’s expression looks tormented, his eyes glassy with self-loathing. “It’s okay, lovely. I’m fine, I just need a minute.” 

“I can’t believe I didn’t stop,” he admits in a near whisper. 

“I should have let you know.” 

“How were you supposed to? I was drinking you dry.” His voice thins. James closes his eyes, agonized. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. That was dangerous. I could’ve killed you.” 

“You wouldn’t have,” you tell him gently. 

“I could have, I—” 

“James.” You sit up on your elbows. Your boyfriend’s brows bunch concernedly, but your head feels fine. Maybe your protectiveness of James is just more substantial than anything else in you. “You wouldn’t have, baby. Really. I know you’re worried you’re going to lose control or something, but that’s not what happened. We just both let it go a little too far. And when you realized what was happening, you stopped without even thinking about it.” You make your voice firm. “This was just a fluke. It was bound to happen at some point, but you’d never really hurt me. And everything turned out fine, right? Didn’t it?” 

James breathes out. “I don’t know,” he says uncertainly. “Are you fine?” 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You give him a smile, reaching out your arms. 

James hugs you but doesn’t meet you halfway. He presses you back into the couch instead, his arms wound tight around your middle and stubble scritching against your cheek. 

“You promise you’re okay?” He turns his head to kiss your ear. “Be honest.” 

You rub his back. “I promise. I just needed a minute. It’s normal, you know?”

James sighs, his body sinking into yours. “Nothing about this is normal.” 

“I guess. But I was talking about, like, blood donation. This happens all the time in those cases.” You lie there for a minute, you soothing your palms over his back and him with his arms wrapped around you. “I feel fine to sit up now, by the way.” 

“No way.” James kisses the shell of your ear again. “You scared the shit out of me, baby. I’m never letting you up off this couch again.”

[ddejavvu]

Can‘t stop thinking about the usually so confident hotch getting yk kinda shy and clumsy all of a sudden, everyones just so confused as to why he‘s getting a bit quieter or redder in the face with seemingly no reason

But when in a case meeting they notice Hotch gripping the sides of his chair, biting his nails (nervous tick), making himself small in his chair and his leg shaking so much that they can feel it in through the floor

And you just standing behind him, one hand on the back of his chair not even really touching his shoulder with your fingertips and listening to whatever Garcia has to say with your full attention that they realize how Hotch has it bad BAD for you

You don't make it into the round table room until after everyone else is already seated, and unfortunately for you, that means you're out of a chair. Your typical seat is filled by Strauss, who looks less-than-pleased at your late entry, but holds her tongue.

"I'm sorry for being late, everyone," You linger behind the seat facing the screen that Garcia has prepared, your hands resting on the back of Hotch's chair, "There was an accident right in front of me, and I had to give a witness statement. Have we started yet?"

The team is used to Aaron leading conversation, but it's not necessarily weird that he doesn't, and Derek shakes his head.

"All good- uh, Y/L/N." He seems to have been going for a nickname that Strauss would not be amused with, and wisely reels himself in, "We barely got halfway through."

"I'll-" You lean down over the back of Hotch's chair, and it creaks as he shifts in it. You peer down at the case file that's open in front of him, and his eyes are glued to the word victim as you scan the details over his shoulder. He can't move them, he can't act natural, he's stiff as a board and tense in his seat.

"Oh," Your nose wrinkles at the word enucleator, "Gross. Okay, well- uh, go ahead, Garcia. I think I'm caught up."

"Okay. So victim number three was just last night, in this parking garage," She grimaces as the image on the screen, "And wow, that's nasty. But- um, Houston PD has asked for your help, and I really don't want to look at this anymore, so I'm gonna go, and- and let you take over. Do your- profiler genius thing," She stammers, gaze averted from the screen as she rushes out, emphasizing her command with a wave of her hands, "Be gone!"

Reid gets right into things by rattling off statistics on enucleators. They're fascinating, really, but not entirely helpful, and you lean down once more to inspect the case file.

"Sorry," You murmur beside Hotch's ear when your fingertips brush against his shoulder, "My seat was taken."

He doesn't answer, can't afford to open his mouth and hear his voice waver. All he does is nod, once, stiffly, and it casts an uncomfortable ache over your chest. Is he angry with you?

He could be annoyed, perhaps. That you were late in front of Strauss. But he's never been afraid to chew out an agent in front of an audience if it's what they truly deserve, and if he had a problem with your tardiness you're sure he would let it be known.

"Are you okay?" You ask him in that same low murmur, one that sends shivers down his spine to a place he can't think about with you hovering above him. He nods, vigorously so, and his tie moves with the gesture. You decide that he's just uncharacteristically nervous about Strauss's presence, perhaps she's threatening once more to demote him or fire him altogether.

You reach down to place your hands on his shoulders in what's supposed to be a supportive gesture. You squeeze gently at them, feeling his muscles impossibly tense, and the room falls silent as Reid's ramble ends.

"Okay, so these victims aren't connected," Morgan reads off of his case file, "Different genders, different races, different tax brackets, nothing in here that suggests there's a common thread. Opportunity, then?"

"It looks like it." JJ agrees, "I mean, a parking lot at night? That's high-risk. I'm willing to bet this guy just stumbled upon his first chance and took it, then couldn't stop."

There's a quiet round of agreement, some 'yeah's and a thoughtful nods, and the room falls silent. This is Hotch's moment, his time to share his conclusions, his thoughts, his doubts, his orders,, but he can't bring himself to do any of that. Not when your thumbs are gently rubbing out the kinks in his muscles, hidden from view like a comfort you're sharing with him in secret. He can't bring his mind to generate any adequate responses, so he pretends to busy himself with the file in front of him to avoid the probing gazes of his coworkers.

They're smirking. They know what's going on, they see the pink tinge on Hotch's face, they hear his foot tapping the floor beneath the table, they know he's fumbling for words like a lovesick teen.

Strauss is not as amused.

"Agent Hotchner, might I remind you that you're the chief of this team? They are awaiting your instruction."

You press your hands harder into his shoulders, thumbs digging further into his tense muscles to soothe him through his nerves. He feels your hands hold him tighter, feels that staticky feeling threaten to envelop the last part of his brain that had remained clear, and speaks before it can overtake him.

"Wheels up in thirty." He snaps, voice forcibly firm, "Dismissed."

Strauss seems rather displeased with his mediocre orders, but she doesn't say it. She lets Dave herd her out the door with the promise of freshly brewed coffee in the kitchen, and Aaron pointedly ignores the thumbs-up that the older man shoots behind his back as he leads her away.

"She's gone," You breathe, patting Hotch's shoulders as you release your grip on him, "God, she's scary."

"Derek," Emily calls sweetly, "Can you come with me to my desk? I had a newspaper clipping I wanted to show you."

Your nose wrinkles, newspaper clipping? Emily doesn't read the newspaper.

"I'd like to see it too," Reid rushes to follow them, "Uh- JJ, come on, Garcia said she wanted to see you before we took off. She wanted to give you that- uh, thing."

"That thing!" JJ repeats, grinning madly at you as she tails Reid out of the door, "See you on the jet!"

"That thing," You echo in a scoff, "Hotch, did you ever follow through with that drug test on Garcia? I think they might both be on it. Whatever it is."

Hotch manages a weak chuckle, and it brings a frown back to your face.

"Hotch, come on." You plead, "Are you really worried about Strauss?"

No. He's not. He always is, a little bit, but that's not what has his attention. He can't shake the feeling of your hands on his shoulders, rubbing out the knots in his muscles and pressing flush to his form. He wants to feel your hands over him again, in the same places and in others, but there's a bozo running around Texas removing people's eyes, and he can't afford to focus on that now.

"She's got nothing on you," You take his silence for an answer, smiling sympathetically at him, "Come on, Hotch, just forget about her, and lead like you normally would. That's enough to impress her, I guarantee it. You can do this, Hotch."

Looking at your earnest smile, standing only feet away from you when you reach out to grab hold of his hand and squeeze sympathetically, Aaron is certain of only one thing: He cannot do this.

[abouquetofchrysanthemums]

A Bouquet of Chrysanthemums

Synopsis

Chrysanthemums were your brother's favorite flowers, red ones especially.

The irony, then, of bringing a bouquet of white chrysanthemums to his funeral is not lost on you.

It was supposed to be a day like any other in the big city: investigate a crime scene, interview witnesses, collect evidence, arrest suspects, return home to the apartment you shared with your best friend and fellow Archersvale native, and have a video chat with your older brother. So when your best friend tells you that they received a call informing them of your brother’s death, you know that nothing will ever be the same again.

They say he died in his sleep, most likely from overexertion. He always did work himself to the bone when he was putting together a big news article; it was what made him the best investigative journalist of your small town.

For the first time in almost a decade, you and your best friend return to Archersvale for your brother’s funeral…only to discover that his death may not have been as natural as it seemed.

Being the only homicide detective around for miles, it’s up to you now to find out what exactly happened to your brother, why it happened, and who did it. Being related to the victim also obviously brings about a conflict of interest, but luckily for you, the reliable deputy sheriff of Archersvale is willing to let you join the investigation as a consultant; interestingly enough, the deputy is also your childhood rival.

Good luck, Detective.

Features

Customize your character from their gender and pronouns to their physical appearance.

Investigate your brother’s death and collect the evidence needed to bring his killer to justice.

Be attentive! If you are unable to gather enough evidence needed to prove it, you could arrest the wrong person or they could walk free.

Determine how you develop your relationships with the two people who will closely aid you in your investigation.

Will you maintain your friendship with your best friend or will you finally act on some long-repressed feelings you may have had for them?

Will you allow your antagonism with your childhood rival to continue or will you finally bury the hatchet with them? Or maybe even work on the unresolved tension you may have felt between you since your high school days?

The Team

Matthew/Mathena Archer

As fiery and passionate as their red hair, M has been your best friend since the two of you met in middle school. People always said it was like the two of you were joined at the hip, and they weren’t wrong; it’s been a case of “where one goes, the other follows” for as long as you could remember. But being practically joined at the hip wasn't the only reason why they joined you in moving to the big city; they were also an up-and-coming singer-songwriter, launched to fame with the help of the internet. Unfortunately, their family staunchly believed they just had their head in the clouds and wouldn't get anywhere in life, which meant that they had spent many nights over at your house. Well, after nine years, two self-released albums, and nearly a million fans, you can say without a doubt that M is talented and hard-working enough to make their dreams come true.

Matthew (or Matty, as you also call him) has short red hair with such unruly curls that he uses a cute bandana when he writes songs at home, a fact he has shared with a photo on his social media; a minute after posting the pic, he became a trending topic online which lasted for weeks. His eyes are a vibrant shade of green that light up when he’s having the time of his life and dull when he feels his world crumbling around him. His skin is fair and dotted with freckles, especially across his nose, from hours of performing under the sun in Archersvale Park. He also has a lean physique that he maintains by jogging in the wee hours of the morning but often hides away with his signature oversized hoodies.

Mathena (or Mattie, as you also call her) often keeps her long red hair out of her face in a variety of ways, which are each tied to what she'll be doing in the near future; her default hairstyle is the simple yet effective ponytail for any regular activity like grocery shopping, but she braids her hair when she goes out to perform at a gig, and when she puts it up in a bun, you know that she's going to spend the next few hours writing lyrics and humming a string of tunes to herself. Her eyes are a vibrant shade of green that light up when she’s having the time of her life and dull when she feels her world crumbling around her. Her skin is fair and dotted with freckles, especially across her nose, from hours of performing under the sun in Archersvale Park. She also has a fit physique that she maintains by jogging in the wee hours of the morning but often hides away with her signature oversized hoodies.

Delfín/Delfína Castañeda

The very definition of tall, dark, and alluring, D was your rival from the moment they laid eyes on you when they entered your fifth grade classroom at Archersvale High. The two of you were always tied at the top, seemingly much to D’s irritation based on how they would instantly scowl whenever your gaze met theirs. As far as rivals go, D wasn’t that bad, all things considered; they never tried to harm you during Physical Ed, sabotage you when you had to represent the school at official competitions, or accuse you of cheating on exams and assignments, though they did throw many snide remarks at you and M throughout those years. The last time you saw D was on the day of your high school graduation when they gave the valedictorian speech. It was a very moving speech, but it wasn’t their words that stuck with you; it was the way they kept glancing at you with a frown that almost seemed … conflicted.

Delfín surprises you when you first see him again after almost ten years, sporting his wavy dark brown hair in a casual quiff, which is quite the contrast to your childhood days when he kept his hair slicked back all the time. His dark brown eyes seem to have lost the competitive glint they used to have every time they met yours, but the passion you always saw in them whenever he was determined or enthusiastic about something hasn’t diminished at all. His skin is brown and somehow unblemished in spite of the work he does, but his hands are more calloused around his knuckles than you remember. His body is also much more muscular than his lean frame in your school days, his broad shoulders pronounced through the leather jacket and T-shirt he swapped his old sweater vest and white button down for.

Delfína has significantly cut down the length of her hair since the last time you saw her, her long, wavy tresses now only reaching her chin, but the way that she ties it back in a half ponytail is a familiar sight. Her dark brown eyes seem to have lost the competitive glint they used to have every time they met yours, but the passion you always saw in them whenever she was determined or enthusiastic about something hasn’t diminished at all. Her skin is brown and somehow unblemished in spite of the work she does, but her hands are more calloused around her knuckles than you remember. Her body is also much more athletic than her lean frame in your school days, her broad shoulders pronounced through the leather jacket and T-shirt she swapped her old sweater vest and white button down for.

Content Warnings*

Blood, violence, death, unhealthy coping mechanisms (drinking, smoking, overworking)

*This list will be updated as development continues

Author's Note

This IF will not be updated as often as my main project, After The End. Expect maybe 1-2 updates in a year.

Status

Chapter 1: released October 2024

Chapter 2: in progress

Game Link

[reiding-writing]

Are u willing to do a fic about an unsub!reader with early seasons Spencer? Like, the BAU has to team up with the unsub to catch another criminal with a similar M.O. to them and hijinks ensue (could be angsty hijinks or could be general scooby doo type situations) Idk!! I really like ur works and I've been thinking about this thing for days but my ass sucks at writing lol ;;

copycat—s.reid [1]

Summary:

The replication of a disturbing 2004 serial murder case calls for the BAU to get involved with the assistance of none other than the original killer themself. And whilst Spencer didn’t work the original case, he was eager to learn every detail about it, including its offender.

WARNINGS: made up murder case, graphic depictions of violence, implied suicide (actually murder), mentions of spencer’s addiction, sociopathic reader

s3!spencer/gn!unsub!reader || mystery || 4.5k || masterlist!!

part one !! , part two !!

unsub!reader masterlist!!

a/n: sorry to the person who requested this because tumblr deleted the actual ask but i did have it copied so at least it wasn’t completely lost 😭😭😭

left it here because people tend not to want to read really long fics. if people want a part two i will gladly oblige but otherwise its a decent stand alone to see how spencer would interact with an unsub like this

“James Harden, 23, was found two days ago on the bench of a public park in Los Flores, Orange County,”

The BAU team, barr Hotch, all settled in their seats as JJ arrived in the room.

JJ pressed a button on the small remote in her hand, two photos, one of each wrist of the victim, appearing on the screen behind her. “Both wrists had been slit, and the cause of death was concluded to be blood loss,”

“So, why are we being called in exactly?” Morgan raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from his coffee. The team was *tired*. They’d only gotten off a case three days before, and they were all in need of a break.

“Well, if you’d allow me to finish,” JJ shoots Morgan a pointed look to which he promptly raised his hands in surrender.

JJ presses the remote again, images of the victim’s wrists being replaced with images of his face.

There was a mix of reactions from the group, all of which perturbed, but some with more intent than others.

His head was laid limp over the back of the bench, his face pale and his lips white from the lack of blood flow to his head. Nothing they hadn’t seen before.

His eyes however, were a different story, covered up by a pair of red roses that had seemingly had their stems forcibly pierced into the victims eyeballs, leaving a trail of oxidised blood down his cheeks.

Morgan and Garcia shared a concerned glance that they simultaneously turned towards JJ, who matched their expression with her own.

“They didn’t-”

JJ shakes her head at the beginning of Morgan’s question, and Emily and Spencer share a confused glance that they turn towards their three teammates who seem to be locked in a silent conversation that only they understood.

“I feel like i’m back in high school again,” Rossi pipes up at the three from his seat, inadvertently calling them out on their exclusion of Emily, Spencer, and Rossi from their conversation.

JJ sighs as she adverts her eyes towards Rossi, her shoulders sagging slightly. “We worked a case in 2004…” She hesitates to elaborate any further about the details, and Spencer takes the opportunity to voice is own curiosity.

“You didn’t solve it?” He tucks his hair behind his ear, eyes glistening slightly as his eyebrows furrowed in JJ’s direction.

It’d been three years since 2004, and the idea that an UnSub could go postal for that long with an FBI target on their back was- something, to say the least.

“No, we did-” Garcia nods her head determinedly, her eyes lingering on the screen as if she was more focused on the images than the conversation.

“So, a copycat then?” Emily adds her part to the conversation, clearly concerned for her friend’s wellbeing.

“Most likely,” JJ nods her head sharply, looking back at the screen once more. “There’s only been one recorded victim so far, but we want to stop whoever is responsible before anything else happens,”

“Are you alright Garcia?” Emily’s eyes remain fixated on Garcia’s face, her usually upbeat persona dwindling into something more solemn.

“Hm? Oh, yes, of course my love bug, i’m alright,” Garcia shoots Emily a small smile as if to emphasise her point. “It was the first case I ever worked on is all, they just… stick with you ya know?”

Emily nods softly at her explanation. She knew what it felt like to have your first case stick in the back of your mind.

“Alright settle down everyone,” Hotch’s voice echoed through the conference room before he even stepped inside, and the team all diverted their attention towards him.

“I trust they’ve been briefed?” Hotch looks towards JJ, who gives him a nod before stepping aside so that he can take her place at the head of the table.

Hotch walks into the conference room with someone at his side. Someone who makes Morgan’s hand clench into fists and the small hint of optimism that Garcia had managed to keep fizzle from her eyes.

“You can’t be serious.” Morgan’s voice was stern and challenging as his eyes narrowed in Hotch’s direction. “Hotch-“

Hotch halts Morgan’s attempt at a rebuttal with his hand, raised in Morgan’s direction as he knits his eyebrows into a line. “They will be a valuable asset to the investigation.”

“You can’t bring a psychopath in here and expect us to just go along with it-” Morgan’s argument was interrupted by your voice from where you stood behind Hotch, hands clasped together behind your back.

“Sociopath.”

Morgan’s expression furrows further if that’s possible, eyes staring daggers at your face. “Close enough.”

“Actually, Psychopaths and Sociopaths are fundamentally different, with the only real similarity between the two being an extreme lack of human empathy,” Your eyes flicker towards Spencer as he corrects Morgan’s assessment, raising an eyebrow in his direction out of intrigue.

“Either way, you cannot expect me to be okay with working alongside a serial killer.” Morgan’s eyes don’t stray from Hotch’s as he speaks, not backing down from his standing.

“I don’t expect you to be. But that doesn’t change the fact that they will be joining us for this investigation.” Hotch’s tone marks the end of the debate, one that Morgan knew he’d lost before it even started.

Hotch gestures for you to take a seat at one of the empty chairs and you oblige, leaning the side of your left foot on top of your right thigh and relaxing back into the swivel chair as Morgan’s eyes bore holes into the back of your head.

The fact that you were even here was enough to spark the embers of rage in the back of his mind.

The fact that you were walking around freely with no restraints was even worse.

“For those of you who weren’t present, in 2004, the BAU team was called out to Malibu to investigate a series of murders that littered the city.” Hotch’s eyes flicker over to where Emily, Rossi, and Spencer were sitting.

“Eighteen people were killed over the span of ten days, crossing age, gender, and race boundaries typical of a normal M.O, with the only link being two roses in place of the victim’s eyes.”

Hotch’s eyes turn towards the images on the screen, yours following his own as you examine the photos with a small huff. “Are you sure that is person is copying me and that it’s not just a coincidence?”

“Putting roses in peoples’ eyes isn’t something we see in the field every day,” Hotch’s explanation is blunt and straight forward.

“My roses were white.” You tilt your head at him with a raised eyebrow. “That’s a pretty stark difference to just ignore.”

“Maybe he’s trying to make a name for himself,” Spencer throws the idea out into the air at your observation, seemingly undeterred by your criminal history now that his head was submerged in the case.

“Then be original.” You face furrows with a roll of your eyes. “Don’t copy somebody else’s idea, it’s not that hard,”

“That’s enough,” Hotch’s voice cuts through the conversation, his arms crossed over his chest. “We’ll discuss the details on the plane.”

Hotch picks up one of the open files on the table and tucks it under his arm. “Wheels up in thirty, i’ll meet you all there,”

A gesture of his head for you to follow him later, and he’s exiting the conference room with you on his tail.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You walk right past Hotch’s seat as you board the jet, opting to take a seat directly opposite the genius doctor that had managed to capture your attention in the conference room.

He looks up awkwardly as you sit down, not exactly sure what he’s supposed to do. Should he start a conversation with you? Should he continue reading his file and pretend he can’t feel your eyes pouring over his features like you were sizing him up.

He doesn’t have to think for too long.

“What’s your name?” Your tone lacks any social grace, but he supposes he can’t blame you. It’s not like it’s your fault you don’t feel or express your emotions in the same way that the majority does.

“It’s- uh- Spe- Spencer,” His awkwardness really shines through his tone, left hand scratching at his right elbow as a self-soothing strategy.

Two seconds into a conversation and he already wants to dig himself a hole and hide in it for the rest of eternity.

“Spencer Reid- Doctor Spencer Reid,” He purses his lips into a line once he’s settled on his full title, but it doesn’t stop him from blurting out more in his effort to get all of his thoughts out of his head. “Spencer’s fine though…”

“Doctor? Of what?” You skirt past his awkward introduction in your pursuit to know more, and he’s grateful that his completely lack of social skills doesn’t scare you off like it would most people.

“Well- I have PhDs in Mathematics, Engineering, and Chemistry,” Spencer tucks his hair behind his ear, his file falling over the side of his lap into the gap between his leg and the arm of the chair. “But i also have bachelor’s degrees in Sociology and Psychology,”

He shuts himself off after his over-winded explanation with a purse of his lips in your direction.

“I have a bachelor’s degree in Psychology,” Spencer’s eyes practically light up at your words, completely forgetting that you’re a convicted serial killer and instead hyper-fixating on your academic interests.

“Really? Did you do a Bachelor of Arts or Science?” You can almost feel the enthusiasm radiating off of his body as he leans forward in his chair slightly.

“Science,” You tap the side of your head with your finger and Spencer thinks he understands. It’s the same reason he studied psychology himself.

Because he was different.

Because his brain worked in different ways than other people.

He couldn’t even imagine how much more severe it was for somebody like you.

“How do you know so much?” Your tone isn’t chastising. It’s not questioning his knowledge because he’s ’too young’ or ‘doesn’t look like someone who would be an expert’ in niche academic areas. You genuinely just wanted to know.

“Well- I have a 187 IQ and an eidetic memory,” You’re eyes followed his as he explained his intelligence to you, chasing them to ensure the two of you maintained eye contact. “And I have a reading speed of 20,000 words per minute,”

You hum at his answer, seemingly satisfied as you lean back in the jet seat.

The silence between you doesn’t have time to get awkward before Hotch is calling the team’s attention to go over the details of the case thus far.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Spencer spends most of his first night in Los Flores on a laptop.

Garcia almost has an aneurism when he asks her if he could borrow one of hers.

It takes him almost 30 minutes to figure out how to use it, face lit by the harsh white light of the screen and softened slightly by the warm yellow of the lamp on his hotel bed’s side table.

Once he manages to pull up the internet browser he spends the next multiple hours researching. Pouring over every news article and journalist report that he can about the 2004 Malibu case that had you in its centre.

The 2004 ‘Malibu Rose Killer’. One of the most prolific serial killers in California’s history.

Eighteen people dead in just ten days. An extremely rapid escalation that held no victim pattern of any kind.

A spree that only stopped when the police found both of your adoptive parents dead after a welfare check concerning your father not turning up to work. Your two first victims.

You’d told the courts that it was a manic breakdown. A symptom of your previously undiagnosed sociopathy. That you weren’t in your right mind when it happened.

It worked to a degree, swerving you of a death penalty, but the fact that your parents’ crime scene had shown signs of recognition for your actions halted your defence quite a bit.

Instead of slitting their radial artery and leaving them to bleed out, you’d severed their spines from the brain stem whilst they slept.

And instead of piercing their eyeballs with two roses, you’d instead chosen to lay one in between their two bodies instead.

That was enough for the prosecution to say you had at least some knowledge of the severity of your actions, and so instead of being carted off to a psychiatric prison you were left in a regular old high security prison to serve two consecutive life sentences for the murder of your parents with an annual mental assessment.

He assumes that’s why you agreed to be here. To gain a lenience on your sentence.

He didn’t know why he found your story so fascinating, but he knew that he’d only be able to refrain from asking you questions for so long.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Spit it out.” Your words snap Spencer out of his thought-filled dazed, blinking at you as he slowly regains his senses.

“Huh?”

“Spit it out. Whatever you have to say to me.” Your tone, as he’s come to expect over the last few days, is very flat and straight to the point, clearly agitated at his eyes lingering on you for what you’d deemed too long.

You walk around the small table at the Orange County’s Los Flores police station with your arms crossed, confined there for the majority of the case as to not possibly initiate any ‘aggressive urges’ that might spawn from seeing a replica of your past crimes.

Spencer’s left hand absentmindedly scratches at his right elbow at your glare, clearing his throat and averting eye contact with you, both out of embarrassment of his unintentional staring and self-preservation towards your proclivity to get angry without real aggravation. “I- It’s nothing really,”

Your head tilts at him, your eyes telling him enough that your patience was waining and that you would get whatever he was thinking about out of him.

“I uh- did some reading… about your case-” Your expression morphs into an emotion that he can’t quite place at his confession, and he feels an overwhelming pressure to keep explaining himself as well as to just sew his mouth shut so he can’t say anything.

“And?”

“And… um- there was a part about it that didn’t really make sense to me,” He’s thrown himself in the deep end now, any hope of changing the topic of conversation long gone as he watches your eyebrow quirk in curiosity.

“Your parents…” Spencer’s eyes scan your expression intently as he mutters out the words, gauging your reaction to his words before he dares to continue.

“What about them?” You remain indifferent if not mildly compelled by the line of thought running through his head, and he’s internally relieved that he hasn’t pressed any of the wrong buttons in your fragile emotional state.

“Why?” Spencer mirrors the short, straight to the point wording that you seemed to be so fond of, and he can see you blank expression waver slightly at the question, like you weren’t sure how to answer it.

He watches the wrinkle in your brow become more prominent, how your eyes seem to loose focus and flicker around the room, the way you subconsciously shift from one foot to the other.

He’s not entirely surprised by your reaction. Sociopaths were very capable of harbouring emotions like everyone else. Anger, happiness, sadness, love, and even fear. Even if the intensity of them and the way they were expressed was different.

Right now your expression read as confusion mixed with mild apprehension, like you were considering whether or not you wanted to answer his question.

You still didn’t seem angry, which he was grateful for. He might have been a qualified agent, but that was with the exception of him not having to pass a physical examination.

And he really didn’t want to risk having to physically defend himself against someone who managed to kill eighteen people in the span of ten days because he’d accidentally said the wrong thing.

“They didn’t deserve to live with the knowledge of what I was going to do,” You tone is a lot less apathetic as you come to your answer, stopping intravenously to collect your words.

Spencer’s eyebrows furrow at your answer, not quite sure what to make of it.

“My turn,” Your eyes scan Spencer’s facial features, watching how Spencer’s eyebrows raise as you don’t give him time to compute your answer. “Do your higher ups know you’re an addict?”

The question is blunt, clear, and lacks any subtlety whatsoever despite the two of you technically being in a public place, even if you were the only people in the room.

Spencer’s eyes snap towards yours, surprise written all over his face. “You- I- Uh-“ His mouth falls open and closed like a fish as he tries to string a coherent sentence together, blinking at you with wide eyes.

How did you know that?

He falls short of an answer to your question, his eyes questioning you silently.

“Does your team know?”

Spencer shakes his head slowly. “If they do no one’s ever mentioned it..” He doesn’t know why he’s exposing himself to you like this, but theirs something in the look your giving him that tells him that he can’t lie to you.

“What great friends.” Your voice is practically dripping in sarcasm, and Spencer can’t help but subconsciously agree with you.

He’d waited and waited for someone to recognise that something was off with him. That he wasn’t all there.

But instead of it being one of his coworkers, some of which he’d known for years, it was a sociopathic serial killer that he’d known for 37 hours and 16 minutes.

Lucky him.

“They have more important things to worry about,” His hand returns to scratching at his elbow through his shirt, clearly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.

You raise your eyebrow at him, clearly intrigued by the misfortune riddling his life; Almost as if it was a private viewing of a feature film made solely for your entertainment.

“Stop doing that.”

Spencer raises his eyes towards yours once more at your words, wide and glossy and making him look like a pathetic little puppy who’d been told off for tearing up a couch cushion.

You wonder how deep that patheticness goes.

“Don’t scratch. It’s annoying to watch and it’ll make your withdrawals worse.” You depart from the room before he can give you an answer, shutting the door harshly behind you as you spot Hotch in the main foyer of the station.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I’m bored.” You swing your legs over the edge of the table you were sat on. You’d spent the last four days confined either to the hotel room you were sharing with Hotch or the small meeting room the OCPD had reserved for the BAU during the case.

You wanted a change of scenery. Desperately. You could only deal with monotony for so long.

At least back in your cell you activities you could engage in.

Instead you were just stuck as a fact checker for the details of each victim.

Five people had died now. Following your victim pattern to a T.

The first a young white man. The second a middle aged white woman. The third a male black college student. The fourth and fifth a young gay couple.

It agitated you. What happened to originality? Get your own random victims.

“You can accompany Morgan and I to the coroner’s office,” Spencer offered you a pursed smile at his suggestion, partly because he knew you’d be able to see more differences between the originals and recreations in person than through photos and partly because he wanted to crack you open.

He wanted to know everything about you. He wanted to know what made you tick. How you rationalised your crimes. How your sociopathy developed.

He was in deep. And his brain wanted answers.

“Absolutely not.” Morgan shot down the idea immediately with a stern shake of his head. “There is no way in hell we are bringing them with us,”

“They might catch something that we won’t be able to,” Spencer’s rationalisation wasn’t exactly wrong. Even in copy cat murders the offender always left a piece of themself behind. Something of their own personality rather than the killer they were trying to replicate.

It could be so tiny that no one would recognise it. Apart from the original offender of course.

“They might catch the bright idea to try and attack somebody.”

“Oh please-“ You roll your eyes at Morgan. “If I was going to have another mental break at seeing a recreation of my past endeavours I would have had it already,”

Morgan narrows your eyes at you calling your murder spree your ‘past endeavours’. You hadn’t published a book or painted some mural. You’d killed eighteen people.

“Reid’s right,”

He doesn’t have time to get angry at you.

“Hotch-“ Morgan looks completely betrayed.

“There’s only so much they can do to help us from here. We want to stop this before anyone else gets hurt.” Hotch’s tone is stern, leaving no room for argument.

“And if they do spiral out of control,” Hotch’s eyes flicker between Morgan and yourself. “I trust you’ll be able to take care of it.”

Morgan mutters something under his breath about ‘stupid hierarchies’ and how much he hated your guts as he left the meeting room with a huff, although more composed than you thought he’d be.

“Are you ready to leave?” Spencer’s question snaps you out of your revelling over Morgan’s distaste for you, although your small smile of satisfaction doesn’t falter as your eyes meet Spencer’s.

“Let’s go Doctor. I’m ready to get out of this beige abomination.”

You push yourself off the table and leave out of the same door that Morgan had, Spencer following closely behind you.

He was oddly grateful about your decency to respect his title, and it only made him want to read you like a book even more.

- part two !!

[cherry-pop-elf]

Break Him Back

Anya x Reader

SUM: YOU were who Anya confided in…

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Rape, Rape After math, unwanted pregnancy, Jimmy, violence, written by someone who’s a victim of sexual assault

“Anya? What’s the matter? It’s the middle of the night. I think…It’s in the middle of sleeping hours.” You tried to joke lightly, in the hopes to calm whatever nerves she had, but it seemed to not get a laugh out of her. Not this time.

“I….Can….Do you….I need to tell you something. I need to tell someone, but I don’t know who. I think you. You will believe me and understand. Right?”

This was making you confused. What’s she going on about? Did she have a nightmare? You sure knew a thing or two about those. Nightmares can feel so real sometimes. Probably just shaken up from it.

“Come on in my room. Come on Doc.” You would user her in, and she was quick to follow. Quick to just sit on your bed. Sit and pretty much curl up on herself. As if she had the world’s worst stomach ache. You figured it’s the nerves from the nightmare.

You would sit down next to her, as she just stared into no real direction. It was towards the floor but her eyes just didn’t really seem to look there. Was like her soul was somewhere else while her body remained. Like she was looking from above, like some third person view.

She just wasn’t really there.

“Anya? What’s up? Nightmare?” You asked, as you would rub her back. The way she flinched away from your touch seemed to be what made her finally have the ability to see through her eyes again. See, and have tears trickle down.

“I wish it was.” She whispered to you, as she squeezed at her stomach more. Was like she was trying to crush her own organs. Was making you more scared. The hell has her so damn rattled? She’s a Nurse. Isn’t it hard to rattle people like that?

“I’m…..I….Oh what do I even say?” She just couldn’t raise her voice. Was like she was terrified of someone overhearing them. That someone would hurt her.

“Hey hey. Deep breathes. I’m right here. You can tell me anything. We’ve been friends for ages. Whatever happened I’m here to listen.” You would do your best to comfort. You didn’t want to attempt to touch her again so you were trying your best to use words.

Was a long silence now. You didn’t rush her. She needed to get a chance to collect herself. Figure out how to speak whatever is needed. You were willing to wait forever for her. You loved her after all.

“I….Would this count as cheating?”

You blinked at that. Made your heart drop to.

Was she saying she cheated on you?

No no. That’s not your Anya. You weren’t going to jump the gun. Something clearly has her shaken. Maybe she was just struggling with words. You were going to let her speak before doing anything rash.

“I…..I’m pregnant.”

The bombshell made you feel dizzy. What does she mean she was pregnant? That was impossible. There was no way. At least not between you to at least. That was what you knew for as a fact. No way.

That meant it was someone else.

Daisuke? No way. Definitely not him. He’s genuinely a wonderful kid. He was so kind and sweet, and had so many other things to think about. Not to mention he was a shitty liar. If he and Anya had something going on there was zero chance no one wouldn’t know. Especially Swansea. They spent to much time together.

Speaking of him you tried to think about Big Swan next.

That was also impossible. Why? Well he got a vasectomy. Was even in his medical reports. Sure they weren’t 100% but like 99.99% is still impossibly small. Not to mention you lowkey doubt he could get it up anymore anyway. But you were keeping that to yourself. He may be sober but you recall that he and his wife struggled to have kids for a while.

Could it be the Captain? Captain Curly? He and her were close, but you also just couldn’t imagine it. Why? Well his ass was gay. Unless Anya suddenly had a transition you weren’t aware of you were certain he wouldn’t be remotely attracted to her.

Last was….

Jimmy.

Jimmy had been a massive creep to Anya the moment the ship took off. Always finding excuses to be alone with her, making unwarranted comments about her body, touching her at any chance he could, and just over all being a major creep. Had gotten to the point where Curly out right ordered him to knock it off. You even overheard him telling Swansea to keep an eye on Jimmy. To find his own reason to be in the room if he isolated himself with her.

That’s when your soul left your body.

Would this count as cheating?

Oh god.

Oh god.

Oh god no.

“When did this happen?” You weren’t sure how your voice came out. You were holding back anger. Not to Anya. No. Never. She did nothing wrong. It was Jimmy and Jimmy alone.

“About a month ago. At first I thought it was a rather real nightmare. That I was just dreaming. That what happened was just me being afraid of him. During it I had blacked out and I just assumed that meant I fell back asleep with in the dream. Then I started having symptoms. Symptoms that were too coincidental to be ignored. I took a test and…..Here I am.”

She sniffled, and that was the only thing to make your rage subside. For now anyway. You had to be there for her right now. She needed you. You would control your emotions for her. She needed someone. She needed you.

“Whatever happens next happens next. Alright? You want to get rid of it we will find a way. If you wanna keep it we will find a way to take care of them until we can get back home. Alright? This doesn’t make me love you any less. This doesn’t make me see you as broken or damaged goods. You aren’t any less my girlfriend as the day I asked you to be mine. We will get through this.”

She would keep sniffling into your shoulder, as you laid down with her. Holding her as tightly as you could, while your eyes remained glued to your door. Just as much expecting Jimmy to break in as she did.

“Does he know?”

She nodded.

“He said it was my problem, not his.” She hiccuped, as she just squeezed you tighter. The only thing to calm her down was you. You were who she trusted. You were who she loved. You were what kept her going.

You didn’t get any sleep that night, and you didn’t care.

You didn’t care.

You were too busy thinking over what to do next.

As the hours went on you tried to think.

The ship wasn’t exactly built to house prisoners. There was still a year left to the journey. Murder couldn’t just be the answer. Well you were certainly planning murder but you were doubtful Curly was gonna allow murder on his ship. Justified or not.

The hell were you going to do?

Teach him a lesson that’s what.

Beat him until he was unable to ever lay hands on anyone again.

With that made up you would suddenly hear your alarm go off. Anya would rub at her eyes, as you realized you really didn’t get sleep at all. Just kept her close and safe. Least you knew no one was touching her.

You two would get dressed for the day, since you two were a couple there was a spare jumpsuit for her in your closet of course, and make the journey to the kitchen. Determination was on your face, as Anya just meekly held your arm for support.

There the rest of the crew was. There like nothing had happened at all. Curly was working on making coffee for everyone, Swansea was fighting to wake up, Daisuke was sitting on the counter with his feet swinging, and there was Jimmy. There ever at Curly’s side. Like some tumor.

“Morning guys!” Daisuke would wave happily, as Anya gave a meek one in return. Swansea would give a ‘huh wha-?’ Like the dad he was, while Curly turned and flashed his brilliant smile. Jimmy? Didn’t even acknowledge you two.

Oh that made you burn with anger.

Wasn’t even so much as a thought about her.

She was nothing.

“Curly, I’ll handle coffee for us. You go and sit down. Rest. I know you’ve been working to hard.” You tried to keep calm, and plastered a fake smile.

“Oh aren’t you kind. Thank you.” He would step away from where he had been, and soon joined Swansea at the table. The voice to keep him awake as Daisuke joined with Anya. Everyone away, while Jimmy remained in the kitchen nook. Curious as to why you had offered.

You would keep your fists clenched at your side, as you now stood next to him. Eyes glued to the coffee maker in-front of you both. A painful silence was shared between you both. Was like the voices at the table didn’t even exist. Was just the two of you.

He would side eye you, and you side eyed him back.

For a brief moment, you swore he knew that you knew. That you knew what he did.

But as quickly as he showed it, that vanished from his eyes.

As if it was nothing more than just accidentally bumping into her in the hallway.

That’s when you snapped.

“I hope this hurts-“

You grabbed the handle of the coffee pot and SMASHED it against his face. Boiling hot coffee splashed everywhere. Including on yourself. You could hardly notice, as you were pinning him to the ground.

“THE HELL YOU DOING?!”

Not often Curly swore, as if Hell even was one but if anything that showed how hard it was to get him rilled up. Guess seeing your best friends face be full of glass, skin suffering second to third degree burns, and screaming bloody murder is gonna set everyone on edge.

You didn’t really care. All you saw was red. Pretty sure you didn’t even blink. You just were wailing on him. Adrenalin was pumping through your veins. Made any pain you felt not compute. You just needed to beat Jimmy into a pulp.

“KID GET OFF OF HIM-!” Swansea would pull you off him, while Curly pulled Jimmy away from you. Meanwhile Daisuke was standing infront of Anya. Willing to use himself as a shield to protect her before himself. Even so young he knew where he stood.

“THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” The two men shouted, while Jimmy was sobbing into Curly. Using him as some kind of shield. Like he would be saved by his Captain.

“What’s wrong with me?! WHATS WRONG WITH HIM?!” You snapped back, as you tried to pull away from Swansea. To try and keep beating him over and over. Curse him for having that mechanic strength.

“All he was doing was standing there and doing nothing!” Curly would shout at you, as he tried to look over the wounds. To see what he could do.

“Anya please hurry over here-!”

But she refused.

She refused.

“Anya?! Anya come over here! Please! Don’t make me order you!” He shouted, but she just stepped further away.

Curly was so confused.

That’s when you fixed that.

“That man you are holding there RAPED ANYA! Not only that, he got her PREGNANT! AND HE TOLD HER IT WAS HER PROBLEM NOT HIS.”

That’s when everyone went silent. All except Jimmy and Daisuke.

Jimmy kept hissing and crying in pain, while Daisuke was throwing up. Poor kid. So much was running through everyone’s head now. That they had been talking to, being friends with, living with a monster.

That’s when Swansea let you go.

Did he do it because he was in shock? Maybe his way of saying to keep beating Jimmy? You didn’t know. You just knew Curly looked more sick than even Anya.

“There….There has to be a misunderstanding….”

You wanted to smack Curly for saying that, but at the same time you couldn’t help but sympathize.

Would you believe someone if they told you your best friend raped someone?

Would you not beg to hear the full story? To get the full picture?

Wouldn’t you want to fight for their innocents?

Wouldn’t you have a moment of denial?

Wouldn’t you?

“It’s true…I have the test results to prove it. Prove he….Prove he did what he did.” Anya would do her best to speak for herself. It was so hard, but she knew she had to. She had to so that maybe others could be saved.

Saved from him.

“I…Maybe the test came back wrong. Did you take a second test?” The more Curly talked the more you wanted to beat him next. Luckily Swansea grabbed you again. How he grabbed you wasn’t to keep you from beating people. Just held you close. Like a father to a daughter who came home crying.

“Yes. I wanted to be sure of course. Of course. Even a third time. It was positive. He hurt me.” Anya would nod, as Curly looked down to Jimmy. To see him looking so pathetic in his arms. Face scorched, bleeding, full of tears, and looking like shit.

The captain would look to everyone. Scanned each face carefully. How Swansea was looking down at Jimmy with disgust, the way Daisuke was unable to even look towards the kitchen but still fought his stomach to hold Anya in a comforting hug. When his eyes landed on hers. To see them so glassy…He just knew.

“What have you done, Jimmy?”

If it was hypothetical or not, you’ll never know.

You just knew that right now you were sitting in the co-pilot seat. Helping monitor the asteroid belt the Tulpar was traveling through.

Anya was busy with patching up Swansea after he got a nasty cut on his arm from working in a vent.

Daisuke himself was currently bringing a tray to what was once Anya’s room. With the help of the skills of a mechanic, and the curious mind of someone who has played quite the handful of secret passage way games, they were able to turn a once bedroom into a makeshift prison cell.

A place to insert food, a gap to look inside, all the works. Thank goodness each bedroom had its own bathroom.

“Here’s lunch…” Daisuke would push the tray in, and didn’t even stay a second longer.

Even he couldn’t give him a passing smile.

He would just return back to the med-bay. A smile for Anya plastered on him, as that made her beam in return.

A smile she deserved.

A smile that Jimmy will only see again when he’s in handcuffs, and behind real bars.

A smile that said…

Rot. In. Hell.

[cherubfae]

𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔶 𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔫, 𝔟𝔞𝔟𝔶 {𝔩𝔢𝔬𝔫 𝔨𝔢𝔫𝔫𝔢𝔡𝔶}

Happy Halloween, my loves! And a blessed Samhain to my fellow pagans! Please have a safe and lovely holiday no matter what you do or don't celebrate! Now then, care to spend some time with Mr. Kennedy? Please, mind the tags! Thank you!! (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

|| 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐅𝐀𝐄'𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ||

tags: ghostface!RE4!Leon, fem!reader, masturbation, voyeurism, unprotected sex, fear/domination roleplay, consensual, fake home invasion scenario, Leon is kinda mean, dirty talk, pet names, breeding kink, perverted call trope, killer x victim trope, consensual dubcon (just in case), predator/prey dynamics, dumbification, dacryphilia, aftercare

"Bend over, sugar. I wanna see that pretty little pussy." The modified voice growled with a fiery hunger. The stranger's words made you wet soooo easily. You shift forward, hiking up your skirt and wiggle your ass in the direction of your window. He growled with pleasure, breathing trembling. Faint slick noises echo from the mysterious caller's line. Was he...?

"Yeah.. Fuck.. Look at that cunt. You're so sweet, doll. Your panties barely cover your pretty lil' pussy lips... Just beggin' for a fat, thick cock inside ya, huh?" The man snarled. "Say it. I wanna hear my pretty prey beg me to fuck her."

Heat rises to your cheeks, your teeth worrying at your lip. "P-please, mister... Please, come fuck me. I wanna feel you stretch me open."

"Fuckkkkkk..." He drew out the word with a deep, breathy growl. You could practically feel his breath tremble through the receiver. Curiously, you seem to find yourself grinning at the conversation. Hell. You were enjoying it. You liked the idea of this stranger jerking off to you. You wanted to be used by him. Defiled.

The old floorboards creaked behind you. "Don't mind if I fuckin' do, dollface."

You quickly turn with wide eyes, blinking rapidly at the sudden imposing male in your living room. The rubber mask he wore was shrouded in black, like a hood, the face was stretched in a ghoulish, eternal scream. The empty black eyes were soulless and terrifyingly hot. Through the thin silver of mesh that covered the eyeholes, you could barely make out stormy ocean eyes; the pupils large and black.

The rest of his attire wasn't too impressive, but his stature was. Broad shoulders and muscular arms stretched the polyester inky robe taut, well defined pectorals and, fuck, even his abdomen was perfectly sculpted. Every hard angle of him outlined against the slightly shimmery fabric like tiny silver stars splashed onto a pitch black night sky.

"Fuck, you look even sweeter in person." His head cocks to the side, huffing deeply through the mask. He lowered his face to you, the mask cool against your heated skin. "Looks like I caught myself a willing pup."

Heavy, wet smacks of the masked stranger's swollen balls thudding against your ass rings round and round in your ears. Tears drip down your cheeks, your thighs burning under the strain of having them tucked to your chest for so long. You vaguely hear him chuckle cruelly, his large hand keeping you pinned to the coffee table--which had been nearest surface.

"Fuck, look at ya, doll. You're not gonna be able to see just how I wide I'm stretchin' ya if you cry too much... Not that I mind one fuckin' bit. You're the real Halloween treat, aintcha? Sweeter than any candy." He pressed his mask face against your heated cheeks, the rubber cool on your skin.

You're almost painfully lying at an angle against the low wooden table, unable to think of anything but his impossibly thick cock pistoning in and out of your wet channel. You've gone numb to your own lewd noises, you crying, your moans, the wet squelch of your pussy. Faintly, you can hear the wood creak and groan beneath the added weight.

Slowly, your eyes lift to the stranger, your mind clouded with a dense fog, slowly dragging them down the muscular outline of his shoulders and torso, to where he'd yanked up the hem of his robe and bared the slightly tanned, taut muscular skin of his stomach and his neatly trimmed pubic mound; the girth of his flushed cock a centerpiece in the course curls of ashen blond hair.

The stranger's muscles flex tightly, too enraptured in his own movements to notice your stare. The hazy, lustful admiration you send his way. He'd pulled his cock free from his pants. Of average length, beautifully flushed, and already glistening with pre. His cock was deliciously thick and heavy. Like it weighed him down. Like it hurt to be gifted such a perfect cock.

He fits inside of you so well. It's overwhelming in the most pleasing of ways, how he seemed to be able to stroke places inside of you that you'd never seemed to reach. The second he slipped inside, you knew you were a goner.

Sound rushes back and crashes into you like a tidal wave, like you'd been plugged back in. Your moans and sobs bounce off the walls of your living room. The stranger's laugh resounds in your ears, pulling you out of your own mind for a second.

"Pftt.. You even moan like a little slut, don't you? Hear now needy this puffy pussy is for me? Pathetic, princess, really... If I had been any other killer, would you have put out for them as easily as you did for me? No?" He mocked the last word, breath coming out in deep, shuddering pants. "Tell me why I don't believe you, princess."

Swallowing thickly, you arch upwards into him, loosely rolling your hips to meet his pounding thrusts. "No one... No one makes me feel this good, Mr. Ghostface, sir..."

"Ghostface?" The stranger cooed, full of faux sweetness. "Oh, I like that. I think I'll use that for the next pretty kitty I spray against the walls. Why the long face? Nothin' to get upset about. This is the only cunt I am interested in." He bowed over your body, hips snapping with visceral force.

You grunt, eyes closing as his cock repeatedly nudges at your cervix. "Everyone else is swine as far as I'm concerned. But you, sugar, you're the real fuckin' deal. Gonna make me marry you, huh? Is that it? Gonna make a filthy fuckin' killer marry you because of you and your sweet pussy?"

Everything was starting to feel a bit too much. He was hitting a bit too deep, talking a bit too much, and your mind was spinning like a top, way too fast, and about to topple over.

A pained whine leaves your lips faster than you realize and you feel the man above you stutter, his movements stilling for a second as he looks down at you; deep blue eyes more visible in the soft glow of the table lamp. His facade was slipping, little by little.

He's waiting, you realize, waiting silently for you to give him the go ahead. Asking a million questions with just one look at his crystalline eyes. You nod your head, feeling a bit like jelly with how numb your legs have gotten.

"Words." His tone brooked no argument. Swallowing thickly, you shift up the table a little. Your bare, sweaty skin squeaking against the polished wood.

Managing a soft, reassuring smile, you nod again. "You can move, Leon. I'm okay."

With a fierce growl, Leon yanked off the mask, his hair sweaty and disheveled, and scooped you up and off the table, carrying you through the hall towards your bedroom. The mask lay forgotten on the sofa cushions.

Curling into his embrace, you softly nuzzle him noting how your roles were most definitely forgotten by this point. Leon wasn't fond of accidentally hurting and even in roleplay, he would never do so intentionally.

"M'not gonna risk that again." Your boyfriend grumbled, tucking your head under his chin. "We're gonna do something different, baby."

"Okay, honey." You nuzzle him, sweetly. He looked down at you with a slight smile, his eyes visibly softening and pupils slowly widened. "I really was okay though."

"I know. But that was more than enough for me." Leon grunted next to your ear and splayed his warm palm across your back. Your delicious cunt is still snuggled tight around his thick length, every jostle sinking you down deeper.

Kicking the bedroom door open, his heavy stomping echoes as he hurls his boots off of his feet and settles your naked body atop the crisp sheets. Holding himself above you.

"I'm gonna make it up to you. Gonna let me taste you, baby?" Cupping your cheek in his large hand, his touch is sweet and reverent. You smile and lean into his touch, giving him a little nod. Leon's lips quirk upwards. "Good."

Leon kisses a trail between your breaths, mapping out a path across your skin. His lips slide gently over your stomach and finally lower to your aching core. Parting your folds with two fingers, he dives in.

He's a messy eater. Lapping and sucking and moaning against your skin, furiously swiping the tip of his tongue against your bundle of nerves; two fingers knuckle deep inside of you the entire time, curling into a language 'come here' motion. And you know he won't be stopping any time soon.

It seems like hours have passed when Leon pulls himself from your warm cunt. He replaced his tongue and fingers with his cock. The soft, plush tip sliding to part your lower lips for him, gathering your spilling nectar with a rapt moan.

"This pussy was made f'me, wasn't it, baby?" Leon looked down at you tenderly. Easing his hips forward, it's not long before his thick length sinks into you fully. Leon settles into an easy push-pull motion, rocking himself into you. His hand grappled for your hip, hiking your leg slowly to rest on his shoulder. And then the other one.

The bed rocks and creeks violently under the animalistic motions. Leon's snarling is borderline feral, you have half a mind to wonder if he was actually a werewolf this year. Round, heavy balls snap wetly against your ass and the coarse hairs surrounded dick feel like heaven as he fucks you dumb.

"Give it to me... come on, baby. I know you got in ya." Leon stroked his hand down your tummy to toy with your wet clit. Making tight, quick circles, Leon sends you careening off the edge and crying out his name.

With a loud shout, Leon's hips snap flush to yours. He's cumming, cumming, cumming. Cock throbbing as he gives you every last pent-up drop he has to offer. Until you're dripping in his seed and it overflows; leaking out of your poor, soft hole. Sweeping his tip across your clit, Leon prolongs both your pleasure for a couple more seconds. His softened cock slides between your folds, guiding himself back in to feel your nice, warm heat around him once again.

"Did it feel okay? It wasn't too much?" Leon asked, gently running a warm washcloth between your thighs. He tenderly cleans away every drop of your combined fluids. Aftercare was something he enjoyed just as much as the main act itself. "I felt like, maybe, that I was getting a little too into it at times..."

"No, no, I'm so glad you had fun. I promise I had fun too. I was a little sad that we ended it so early into the evening." You smile and shake your head. "It was perfect. You were perfect. Thank you for trying it out with me."

Leon chuckled, the corner of his lip crooking into a smile. Leaning down to you, he kisses your head and gently runs his knuckles down your cheek. He finished up and helped you slip into some extra comfortable pyjamas. It was still Halloween for a few more hours.

"Well, maybe we'll continue it next year?" A hint of hopefulness glimmered from his words. Guess the tough-guy agent really did enjoy letting loose and being the big, bad guy sometimes. Especially if it meant he was balls-deep inside of you.

You lay back among the strewn pillows and messy sheets, humming in agreement. Leon settles against your side on his tummy, propping his chin on your shoulder.

"I didn't realize ghosts were non-binary."

Leon's statement came completely out of the blue. You snicker softly and look at your boyfriend confused. Raising a brow, you motioned for him to continue. "I'm sorry-- they what?"

He grinned, "Ghosts. No matter their gender they're all wearing dresses!" He waggled his eyebrows, clearly impressed with his joke.

You groan, tossing your head back in mock exasperation. "Leonnn!"

Leon's laughter echoed throughout the house, full of mirth, more than content to be in his own little bubble with you while the town enjoyed the hauntingly fun festivities.

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[thepinkdreamganjaqueen]

Focus On Me

Randall Kirkland x Fem!Reader 

Masterlist 🩷

Summary: Y/N is the newest arrival to the township. Amongst all the townsfolk, she takes a liking to the most unlikable guy in town when things go awry at the colony house. How will she survive the night? 

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, piv, unprotected sex, DubCon (kinda), breeding, public sex, exhibitionism, drug use, mentions of DV, mentions of violence (murder), swearing, fem!reader, romantic smut, aftercare (he deserves that and more!) 

A/N: Randall Kirkland needs love, y'all!! You know, under that cold abrasive exterior, he's a total softie with a good heart! From is such a great show, I love Randall and will protect him at all costs!!! Story is cannon, no spoilers for new season, but it's definitely the reason I wrote it… especially after ep. 6. Randall is baby girl!! Please enjoyyy! I love and appreciate you all! Feel free to reach out anytime! I welcome all interaction!  

Word Count: 5.4k

FOCUS ON ME

Stepping back into colony house was heavy after last night. Donna and Boyd were outside at first light to cover and remove the body of yet another victim to these creatures. You often reminisced of your days before this nightmare you were trapped in. Wishing, hoping to wake up. You arrived in the township by yourself, close to sunset. The folks at colony house were welcoming albeit, strange. You understood now. Often disassociating from the truth and drowning yourself in a journal or sneaking off to vape THC, often walking in the woods, trying to make sense of things, to find… something. Like everyone's first night, you struggled to take in what this place was, what it did to people, not wanting or willing to trust anyone. There was no answers or information as to why this was all happening, no one communicated, and you felt alone. Everyone else seemingly accepting their fates. Except one person. A guy by the name of Randall who people whispered about in the colony house. After hearing some not so stellar rumors about fighting and guns, you initially opted to stay away. Not just from him but closing yourself off to others as well. Sure, some of them seemed nice, but you knew no one or the circumstances that led you to this place. It just didn’t make sense. It was hard to trust anyone, truly. 

After your third night here, you awoke from maybe two hours of sleep to find people rummaging through your things. Personal items mixed with sentimental items that you once thought held value. You were in the middle of a move, taking only your most precious items with on the initial voyage from Key West to Seattle escaping from a violent DV situation literally upheaving your entire life. A new life, new beginnings and new opportunities you had once looked forward to. That was before the tree appeared in the road and the crows circled above.  

The car alarm was jarring waking you from an unrestful sleep, you bolted out the door to see people with handfuls of your clothes, bagging up your journals and other personal effects. It felt as if they were taking what was left from your old life, what made you, you. Without hesitation you started ripping your items from the hands of the thieves. One of the women started yelling while trying to yank back your things, you didn’t hear her and acted out, launching a solid fist into her jaw causing her to fall back as others went to restrain you trying to talk about the rules, and other things you were too upset to hear.  

This place was already loathsome enough, you thought. “You can't take my things!” You yelled as people held you back, each holding one arm. You bucked and screamed until they let go and you fell to the ground. A crowd had begun to form on the porch, watching you. You could feel the heat of anger and embarrassment rise in your cheeks. You pant in defeat, looking at the ground sobbing as people loaded your things into the home. Boots appeared in front of you and a hand reached down. A deep voice spoke out “Here, stand up” You recognized the face immediately as Randall, who had wandered over after hearing the commotion. Him and some folks from town were trying to build some kind of radio tower near the garden.  

You took his hand and stood, dusting off the front of your pants where wet dirt had stained your knees. “Don’t let them see you like this” he whispered. “Give her back her shit!” He yelled to the crowd. Donna stepped forward demanding everyone calm down, she then firmly reminded Randall of the rules if “she” wanted to stay here. “As a community, we have to share everything equally” she had said to him while looking at you. “My journals? My clothes? Are you serious? Its all I have!” You said wanting to swing again but refraining, what good would it do. Your stuck with everyone here anyway. “That or you can do as Randall here did and leave if you don't like the rules” she said directly to you in a condescending manor.  

You storm off in a huff, not wanting to display any more emotion than you already have. You walked away fists clenched and head down when you heard footsteps beside you. “Thank you.” You said. Looking up and meeting his eyes. It was Randall. His smoldering gaze made your breath catch in your throat. He stood at least a foot or more taller than you, athletic build, clean shaved buzz cut, hazel-green eyes, and a dimpled chin. Funny you thought, all the talk about him, how terrible he is, how difficult he can be, and yet he was the only person to stick up for you.  

“Its bullshit, you know it, I know it. They tried that with me too when I got here.” He said as you two continued walking away. “What did you do? Did you get your things back?” You asked. “Yeah eventually, and they kicked me out because of it. Didn’t want to follow their rules” he said with a half grin. “I stay in the bus away from everyone else.” He lamented. Explaining how Donna had showed him how to use the talisman and wished him luck as he took his things. "Wow. What a peach," you said. “I'm Randall, by the way” he said while sticking a hand out. You reached to shake it “Y/N” you replied.  

It was nice talking to someone, you had felt alone here for the past few days, even more so when they began taking your things, it felt like your identity being stripped away. He seemed to understand, and vice versa, you understood him and his reasoning. He had already come to terms with some new truths about this place having been here longer, but you were still taking it all in, or rather, bottling it up and pushing it away. Whatever worked really. “So, where are you going?” He asked while walking beside you. “I guess, just for a walk to clear my head. Wanna come?” You asked, flashing a smile at him. “Sure. Anything to get away” you both chuckled as you led the way to the tree line. 

You learned a lot from him that day you first met him. You exchanged stories of your lives before, where you were going, what you were doing prior. He spoke candidly with you. It was truly refreshing. Sure, he was abrasive and blunt. You could see that on the surface, but somewhere below, you could see he was kind, that he cared, and that he, like the rest of us, was scared. You found it easy to talk to him and it was nice having conversations that didn’t completely revolve around death or scary night serial killer creatures. It was a nice escape from reality, one you both suffered from and needed badly. Spending much of your walk laughing and cracking jokes. His humor was dark much like your own, something you appreciated. You quickly found yourself wanting to talk to him all the time. He was relatable and understanding. He exuded strength and confidence and a no bullshit demeanor. Everyone else seemed so fake, or so lost. 

Although your conversations mostly remained light, he did speak about the people here too, about not trusting anyone, and how no one has really done anything or tried to figure this all out. He explained that living in the bus was hard, the creatures came every night like a routine, he studied them closely. Trying to find weaknesses, vulnerabilities, any information really. You two had stopped for a while. You remembered you had your pen in your pocket and asked him if he was ok with it. "Do you mind if I uh" you said as you wiggled the pen in your fingers. “Nah” he said with a grin. He stood taking stock of the environment you found yourselves in as smoke billowed from your lips into the cold morning air. You nonchalantly hold the pen out to him while also examining the environment. He looked down and grabbed the pen before clicking the button and drawing from the mouthpiece. Eliciting a couple small coughs from him. “Thanks, needed to take the edge off” he said while trying to catch his breath as you two began the trek back to town. You hadn't wandered off too far, never did in fear of getting lost before dark.  

He walked back to colony house with you. You didn’t want to go back, wasn’t ready to after this morning but nightfall approached. Randall stopped at the steps as you ascended. “Thank you, for today. I was really struggling, so, I appreciate you talking with me. It was nice.” You said with a coy smile. He nodded “Tomorrow we’ll get your stuff back okay.” He said. “Thank you, please be safe.” You lamented, truly hoping he made it through the night. You at least found solace in knowing you made a friend here. Knowing that made you feel less alone, but when you were on the couch at night as the creatures roamed the streets as Randall watched. You felt more alone than ever. A resident walked by wearing your shoes. You rolled your eyes and turned over, waiting for the night to be over. Tomorrow you would get your things back. You decided you weren't coming back to colony house. Maybe you could stay with someone in town, but you just couldn’t stay sane in a house full of people, especially when they were taking your things. You drifted off thinking of Randall, and what it must be like to stay on the bus at night.  

You were awoken by screaming. Someone had gotten killed last night and their body was left in the road in town. You heard residents chatter as Donna left to help dispose of the body. Before your mind could fully wake your body pulled itself up and ran for the door. You walked over to town, not wanting to see the body, but wanting to make sure it wasn’t Randall. A crowd formed around the body as Boyd tried to control the commotion with his hands waving telling people to move back. The bus was down the street a bit further away when you saw the door open and Randall step out to see what happened, who had gotten killed. Boyd gave his speech about safety at night and not trusting the creatures. You found yourself walking over to the bus where Randall stood arms crossed leaning against the open door. He straightened as you approached. “Let's go get your things” he said. “No one needs your journals and shit but you!” He said while starting to walk.  

The crowds were all down near the diner speculating about last night's murder. Only one or two people were at the house. You began collecting your personal effects from the rooms and basement where much of it was stored, mixed with other linens in a chest. “What if they don’t let me stay anymore” you said, voice full of concern. Randall set a bag down thinking for a moment. “Then you can stay in the bus with me.” The words sent shivers down your spine. The bus seemed so unsafe; he spoke about how vulnerable it made him feel. No shades for the windows, no pretending like everything is ok at night like the others have the luxury of doing. But it also excited you in a way. Randall was the only person here you’ve connected with, and on a deep level. You felt compelled to stay with him for reasons that can only be blamed on your hormones and lack of social life here. Maybe you would both be better off if neither of you were alone. You could feel heat rise in your cheeks as you continued to pack your things and head for the bus. 

After dropping off your things to the bus Randall was kind enough to help you carry, you both opted for another walk in the woods. It was a calmer environment; it was almost like being taken away from the commotion and despair that was the township and the townsfolk. Randall was a breath of fresh air. He saw through the bullshit and told it like it is. You appreciated his directness, especially when it came to you. “They think what they're doing is right, but they have no idea, no one does" you could sense the frustration in his voice. An emotion you shared. You agreed. “I get people are scared, we all are, but why can't anyone come together and think of something more than a temporary fix. These talismans are Band-Aids over a bigger issue were almost ignoring or just not trying hard enough to figure out. How many people are here, have been here, with nothing to show for it? With no answers as to why or how?” Randall shook his head. “See, you get it” he said as he reached to grab the pen from your hand.  

You two had found a log to sit and chat. Remarking at the landscape, trying to find something, anything really. Every answer he found only led to more questions, but at least he was trying rather than ignoring it like nothing ever happened. Like we all just chose to live here, to be here. Neither him nor you accepted that sentiment. He wanted out just like you did. But in the meantime, at least you had each other in a way.  

He never said anything but it seemed like he enjoyed your company. Willingly going on walks with you and talking for hours about anything. You were both a nice distraction for each other from the daily depression of existence within the confines of this horrible place. You found solace in him. A warm presence like protection and safety. That night you two had stayed awake for the most part talking through the screeches and screaming heard in the distance. Helping one another to ignore the words of the creatures when they would tap on the bus windows asking to come inside. It was scary but you two got through it.  

He had been used to this for some time. As used to it as someone could get, you supposed. But he was able to help you through your first night on the bus. “Focus on me” he said when they wandered to the window at the seat you occupied. He sat next to you and reached for your hand squeezing tightly. “Just focus on me”. The words he spoke echoed in your mind that evening until it darkened with slumber.  

You must have drifted off at some point because you awoke at first daylight as the sun began streaming into the windows. Randall was still sitting next to you. Had he held your hand all night? You must have fallen asleep on him. He could have shifted or asked you to move so he could sleep as well. But he didn’t. He sat there with you all night as your head rest upon his shoulder. When you moved, he jumped suddenly, eyes shot open and looking around. “Hey, hey, it's okay.” You said grabbing his leg and shaking it gently. He immediately relaxed.  

“Bad dream?” You asked. “No. No I uh, I just never really fall asleep in here. Sorry.” He spoke in a soft voice. “I haven't been able to sleep much at all my self since I've been here. But I was able to last night. I have you to thank for that” you looked on as he processed what you said. “Don’t worry about it. I should uh, thank you too. Having you here I guess, made it easier for me. Not having to be alone when those things show up.” He said clearing his throat and shifting slightly in his seat. “I appreciate you letting me sleep here. And I'm sorry about falling asleep on you” you said sheepishly.  

He grabbed your hand once more “Like I said, don’t worry about it.” A light smile lingered on his lips before he left. He had gone up to colony house again. Him and a few others that he was able to gather, had left to scavenge materials for the radio tower they were building. He would be gone for a while, so you spent your day mostly in the woods searching for answers, stopping by the diner for a quick meal then returning to the bus before nightfall.  

You sat in the fourth row back from the entrance. There was a break in seating here and room for your things in front of you without feeling crowded. This was normally where he would sit. You sat and journaled about your day, about last night. Jotting down ideas, possible relations between happenings and the effects, trying to make sense of things. The familiar ding of the nightly bell Boyd used to warn the townsfolk rang on the distance as the sky began to darken.  

You realized Randall wasn’t back at the bus yet. Your mind spiraled into worry. You panicked rushing to the bus door closing it and waiting for him to arrive. You looked in all directions when you spot him emerge from by the clinic. He’s running to the bus as those creatures slowly follow behind him ever so menacingly. You open the door before he gets to it yelling for him to hurry. He rushes in and runs to a seat. You shut the door behind him insuring its fully closed then rush to help him. Was he hurt? What was going on? He was frantically tearing at his clothes and swatting as if there was something near him. 

You stepped close to him trying to calm him, it was as if he could hear you but couldn’t respond. You could see he was scared and was seeing something you couldn’t, his eyes flickered looking at something. Not odd for this place but nonetheless, you were concerned. He was back on the bus, but was he actually safe? What happened out there? You wondered as you tried to calm him. “Randall! Hey! It’s me you’re okay!!” You tried to consol him. You grabbed onto him holding his arms and entering his vision. He was sunk into the seat eyes still wide with fear. You put your weight on him, straddling him in the seat grabbing his face trying to redirect his attention. “Randall!” You yelled helplessly. You were scared, unsure what else to do in this moment. Unsure how to help. 

He sat with you on top of him, still unphased. It’s as if he was stuck in a waking nightmare. Suddenly all you could think was to potentially shock his system somehow to take him out of it. "Randall, focus on me, okay?” You lean in quickly, pressing your lips to his, breathing deeply through your nose. Laughter could be heard coming from the creatures that had gathered around the bus. You ignored them. You continued kissing him. Softly pressing your lips to his watching his reaction. His eyes went half lidded before flickering shut.  

His breathing slowed and body stopped trembling. He kissed you back, wrapping his arms around your waist. You embraced it and closed your eyes. You didn’t expect that. You pulled away for a moment examining his expression, wanting to know if he was out of the woods so to speak. “Are you okay?” You asked. He looked at you with surprise. “Why did you do that?” He spoke softly, still holding you to him. “I'm so sorry. I didn’t know what else to do, I just wanted to shock your system or something. I had to pull you out of that! I was scared for you, and you showed up past dark and-" he cut you off suddenly, pulling your face back to his. You melted in his grasp, returning the kiss with fervor. You wrapped your arms around him while he pulled you closer as your tongues searched each other's mouths, teeth clashing as you vigorously and passionately kiss. 

Somewhere outside there was knocking at the windows of the bus as the creatures taunted you. Neither him nor you paid attention. Your focus remained on each other. As long as the talisman hung from the frame of the bus within and the doors and windows were shut, you were fine as far as you knew. Not accounting for whatever happened to Randall. Regardless of what it was you were able to redirect his attention and pull him back, putting his focus back on you. 

Moans escaped your lips as his hands caressed your back, sides, and hips, rocking you on him. You could begin to feel the stillness grow in his pants. It was hard to ignore as it pressed against your thigh. His hands slid under the backside of your shirt; you could feel the cold air from the bus creep underneath. You took a moment to pull your shirt up over your head, fully immersing yourself in the heat of the moment. You weren't even thinking about those things outside watching. Let them, you thought. 

You caught his gaze after removing your shirt, his eyes met yours with a look of longing. You felt the same, the need. You had only been alone here for less than a week, he had been here for months. You could only imagine how alone he must have felt. Your heart ached for him, but your body lusted. You could feel heat envelope every part of you, concentrating in your groin where you began to throb for him. Your hand wandered his body, exploring every muscle, every curve and line, tracing it with your fingers, following where it led. He continued rocking your hips into him, his face now stern with concentration as he looked in your eyes watching you squirm as he rocked you slowly forward then slowly back. 

The look in his eyes as he watched you soaked your panties, that, and the friction he applied. But the way he looked at you, like he needed you, drove the innermost primal part of you absolutely insane. You began rocking with his grip, pushing yourself onto his stillness. Your head flung back as he began pressing kisses to your décolletage, biting at the fleshy mounds beneath your bra breathing heavily. 

You slid a hand between you and him down to his waistline tugging at the buttons on his jeans. He motioned to undo them and took them and his boxers off. You stood and slid your pants and panties down as well, taking them off completely before returning to his lap. You grabbed his shoulders to steady yourself as you put your knees on either side of him, while he slapped your ass. You cried out at the sting of the slap that reverberated through the silence of the bus. He looked up at you and grinned, rubbed up your thighs to your backside, grabbing a handful of flesh in each hand and bringing you in for another passionate kiss.  

Your chest heaved against his as you lustfully devoured him. You could feel him even firmer now. You were soaking wet; he must feel it you thought as you mindlessly grinded against his length. After breaking from the kiss, you lean your forehead to his looking into his eyes then down at your hand that was moving to grip him. He gasped as you took hold of him, stroking him slowly as you looked into his eyes. He was rock hard and throbbing. His tip sticky with precum. You used your fingers to spread it around before scooting yourself against him and sliding his length up and down your slit.  

Your hand held him firm to you as you slightly moved up and down. His manhood throbbing against your clit as he slid so easily against your slick cunt. He had been pawing at your flesh, squeezing, pinching and scratching at your back as you teased him. His face buried between your breasts sucking and biting. He would reach up and grab them and caress them, running his tongue over them leaving a trail of cooled skin behind that made you shiver every time he breathed.  

He would look up at you periodically, watching your face enjoy him. The hand you used to hold him against you slowly started applying pressure until he was at your entrance, and you slowly slid down, taking time to accept his size within you. You cried out as he breached, just the tip making you want more. You slid down fully, watching his face contort as you forced him inside you. You were dripping wet yet he was quite substantial, so you felt yourself stretch as he entered.  

You wrap your arms around his neck as you start to slowly grind and bounce on top of him. His hands were back at your hips trying to control the speed, pushing you down on him harder each time. His look was stern as he focused on you, looking directly into your eyes as he met every bounce of yours with a thrust of his own. Each thrust drawing a cry from you. Your moans and cries of passion paired with his grunts and heavy breathing, drowned out all the outside noise. All the screaming all the nightmarish things just beyond the windows were now worlds away. They could probably hear you over at colony house with how intense it was, how loud he had you. You pick up your knees bringing your feet onto the seat on either side of him, grabbing his shoulders as you continue to ride him. 

His head fell back against the seat eyes closed as he used his hands placed under your thighs to help lift you as you rose and fell against his length. A look of relaxation and serenity you had never seen on him before. You provided a peaceful temporary escape for him. You watched as his chest rose and fell with each panting breath that escaped his lips. You watched how his lips quivered with each passing exhale. You reach a hand up from his shoulders and caress his face softly, he burrowed his cheek into your embrace. You cradled him as he looked at you adoringly. You wondered what he was thinking. 

You felt his grip tighten on your thighs as he grabbed you and flipped you onto the seat. He hovered above you as you pulled your knees to your chest. He pushed heavily against you, leaning into your knees, filling you completely. He leaned back slightly, grabbing behind your knees, placing your ankles upon his shoulders as he began drilling into you. The pain he must have experienced here, the things he's seen. You couldn’t imagine. You wanted him to take it all out on you, to have you exactly how he would want. All of his frustrations, anger, and fear, pounded into your readily waiting cunt. You wanted to give him that release, anything to take the pain away, even if only for a moment. 

Your legs clung loosely around his neck as he continued pressing his weight against you, forcing loud moans to escape your lips every time he buried himself within you, hitting your cervix. He was so enveloped in you. Watching your face twist with every thrust against you.  

He needed this, but so did you, perhaps neither one of you knew. It would have eventually led here though you thought.  He was the only one in town you found yourself able to relate to, the only one who stood up for you. Whatever ideas or thoughts people had about him were wrong. They just didn’t know him or understand him. This place makes people crazy; everyone reacts differently. It’s a big change to adapt to that no one wants to. 

Enveloped in your thoughts about him as the pleasure began to become overwhelming, you pulled your legs back down spreading them wide and wrapping them around his back as you tugged on his shirt, pulling him in for another passionate kiss. Holding him as close to you as you could. You took his tongue into your mouth, sucking it and pulling from the kiss with a gentle bite to his lip. This only made his motions increase furiously. He slammed into you continuously, teeth gritted, eyes narrow. A wave of pleasure washed over you emanating from your core, a sensation that began taking over your entire body. You clawed at his back, leaving red lines trailing your fingernails, it made him shiver under your touch. He could tell you were close; he was too. “Please, don’t stop!” You cooed in his ear.  

The creatures still outside could be heard chattering near the windows. Why were they watching? Maybe it mattered, maybe it didn’t. Right now, it didn’t, Randall was your focus and you-his. You had managed to pull him from his waking nightmare, however difficult that may have been. You did it, you helped him. Whatever control they had over him, was not present when he was with you. 

Hearing your plea, he maintained his rhythm as your legs began to quiver and shake around him. You squeezed your legs tightly around him as you arched your back, meeting his thrusts with your own enthusiasm. Still holding him close, his forehead resting against yours, your eyes watched each other approach the precipice of climax, focusing only on one another. You could feel him begin to pulsate within you as your own climax began to coalesce. Your walls clenching tightly around him as he buried himself to the hilt. No longer able to hold on. As your own climax eclipsed his. The pulsating of his member echoed by your own quivering climax. You both erupted. Your moans filling the air of the bus and beyond. The feeling, immeasurable, as he let out an animalistic groan, thrusting into you with every pulsating shot of his essence that painted your insides. You could feel each pump, burning you from within, a fire you so badly desired.  

His face relaxed, shoulders dropped, every ounce of tension left his body with his seed, spilled deep within you. Your bodies, both shaking with exhaustion and satisfaction. Temporary focus offering temporary relief for you both. He slumped beside you cradling you to him with his large arms wrapped around you. You felt his breath on your neck, still heavy but slowing, his stillness pressed against your back as pearls of his desire dripped from your core, slowly leading a trail down your thigh.  

He pulled a blanket draped over the seat behind him and spread it over you and him with one arm. You turned your head slightly to him and raised a palm to stroke his cheek as you planted a kiss upon his lips before turning back around. He looked at you admiringly, his eyes soft and a smile that touched the corners of his lips. He kissed the back of your head before cradling himself in the crook of your neck as he held you close to him. "Thank you for letting me stay here with you.” You felt him nod and his arms squeeze you tighter. “I'm not going anywhere; you don’t have to tell me what's going on if you don’t want to. Just know I'm here, you're not alone, and my focus is on you.” You spoke candidly in a loving voice. He only nuzzled his face into your neck further, peppering your shoulder with light kisses as he quickly drifted to sleep.