#he's a good person but he's fucked up why are we making him into a bland uwu cinnamon roll

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready��” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

[cupid-styles]

a helping hand*

in which y/n can't orgasm and harry is a helpful ex-friend with benefits.

word count: 3.3k

content warnings: mentions of depression/mental health and anti-depressants, discussions of reduced libido, smut (phone sex, mentions of sex toys, dirty talk, description of group sex and mmf threesomes)

this one goes out to all the besties on anti-depressants

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

“No.”

“But—”

“No.”

Harry sighs in frustration before crossing his arms over his chest. If he pursed his raspberry lips into a pout, he’d look more like a petulant child than the young adult Y/N’s known for the past few years. With a roll of her eyes, she lifts her glass to her mouth and takes a healthy swig of her coke and rum. She allows herself to scan the interior of the bar — it’s just barely 6 pm on a Wednesday so she’s not surprised that it’s primarily filled with locals and teams of corporate offices decompressing after a long day. 

“I could always make you come when we hooked up and I bet you I could still do it.”

“Christ, Harry, give it a rest,” Y/N replies, narrowing her eyes at the curly haired brunette. “It’s not just with partners, it’s me, too.”

He quirks an eyebrow and settles his elbows on the sticky table. She huffs when she realizes she’s only piqued his attention even more now that she’s revealed another inkling of her… problem. 

“Can you just tell me what’s going on, then? You know, when I texted you for our semiannual catch up, I didn’t think we’d be getting into your sudden inability to orgasm, but—”

“Can you lower your voice?” Y/N hisses with wide eyes. “I didn’t think we would talk about this either but you’re the one who asked if I’m seeing anyone—”

“Yeah, seeing anyone, not coming for anyone—”

“Just shut up!” she mutters, nearly knocking over her almost-finished drink. “If I tell you, you have to drop it.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Harry…”

“As your ex-friend with benefits, I have no duty to keep secrets that aren’t about our bedroom-related rendezvouses.” 

“There hasn’t been a ‘rendezvous’ in five years.”

“There could be.”

She sighs and presses her fingertips to her temples. This is why she and Harry never worked out. They’re total opposites — he has the energy of a rowdy golden retriever and she exudes a calm, monotone nature. (She thinks she’s borderline boring if you ask her, but that’s something she’s been saving for therapy.) 

At parties in college, he was always the one working the room, chatting with everyone while she stood in the corner and clutched her solo cup for dear life. 

He had a million contacts in his phone and people remembered him, even if they knew each other from something as small as working together on a project in a class three semesters ago. 

Meanwhile, Y/N could spend two years straight working in the same office and someone would still ask her when she started working there because she looked “new”.

(Seriously. It happened last month, and she had to rush to the bathroom to cry.)

Despite their opposing personalities, they did work for a while, but only as friends with benefits. To begin with, Y/N never wanted anything more — when they started hooking up, they were nearing their senior year of college, and she didn’t want to be tied down to anyone or anything when making decisions about her future. But secretly, she knew feelings for Harry would inevitably pop up. How could they not? Although he was an annoying ball of energy sometimes, bouncing off the walls of her apartment before they even made it to her bedroom, he was kind. He had a good heart — he still does after all these years, otherwise Y/N would never bother meeting up with him without the intention of hooking up — and he was funny, and he made Y/N feel all warm and gooey inside. He was a good fuck, too, and as much as she wanted to widdle his presence down to being purely physical, she wasn’t strong enough for that. 

She was grateful, albeit heartbroken, when six months after their arrangement began, Harry very sweetly told her he had a crush on a girl in his advanced sculpture class and wanted to go for it. As she swallowed a lump in her throat, she told him that was perfectly fine, that she was glad he told her, and that she hoped things worked out between him and Emily.

(They did. For two and a half years. Y/N had never been so thankful when graduation arrived and she could run as far away as possible from the couple.)

Harry tried his best to keep in touch, even after graduating while he was dating Emily — always commenting on her Instagram posts and responding to her stories, even occasionally texting her to wish her well on her birthday or major holidays. Y/N kept him at an arm’s length for as long as she could. That is, until he moved to her city last year.

The only reason why Y/N had a heads up is because of an Instagram story he posted. In his typical overly excited way, he posted a picture of his dog in his new apartment with one of those tacky, premade location tags. (She’s allowed to think they’re ugly — she’s a graphic designer.) So, it didn’t come as a surprise when a week or two later, a text popped up from an unknown number: Hey Y/N! Not sure if this is still your number or if you still have mine, but it’s Harry :) I just moved to your city and was wondering if we could get together! It would be great to see you.

Thus began the tradition of Harry and Y/N’s semiannual meetups. 

It was an unsaid routine they followed — every six months or so, one of them would text the other for drinks or coffee or lunch. They only ever met up in public and they didn’t talk much outside of their scheduled hangouts, though Harry was much more prone to messaging her stupid memes and, on occasion, a picture of his dog, a husky named Fish. 

Much to Y/N’s dismay, the chemistry between her and Harry was still very much there. It had been apparent from their first meetup last February. It was difficult not to flirt, especially when he brought up their past (she would happily pretend none of it ever happened if it meant Harry Styles never made her blush ever again). The thing is, though, is it was fine as long as nothing ever came of it. 

Until now. 

Because as Y/N sits across from Harry in the worn booth of a dive bar a block away from her apartment, she can’t believe she’s seriously considering letting him back in her bed.

“Can you just tell me what you think the problem is?” Harry asks. He slides his elbow onto the table and presses his knuckles up against his cheek, like they’re best friends giggling over some silly gossip. It makes Y/N want to elbow him in the ribs.

“It’s a biological issue,” she mutters, “Like I said, nothing you could fix. Even if I wanted you to.”

“Just spit it out, blossom.”

She narrows her eyes, though she finds it difficult to ignore the way her stomach flips at the familiar nickname. “You’re not allowed to call me that anymore.”

“Tell me what the issue is and I won’t call you that,” he replies easily. “C’mon, it’s me. Remember all the times I helped you pee when you were too drunk to sit up straight? We’ve definitely seen each other in more embarrassing situations before.”

Y/N sighs loudly. He has a point — there was a time where Harry knew her better than anyone else in the world. And frankly, she hasn’t talked to anyone about her problem. 

Scooching her body forward, she attempts to close most of the gap between them. Harry leans closer and she rolls her eyes. To an outsider's perspective, they probably looked like they were performing some kind of sketchy drug deal or like little girls swapping secrets at a slumber party.

“Remember how I struggled with, um… getting pretty sad?”

Harry’s eyebrows draw together and he nods. 

“Right, so it got… worse when I moved here. And I needed to find help, so I started seeing a psychiatrist who put me on antidepressants. They’ve helped a ton — I feel better, and the depression that I do feel is a lot less intense.”

“That’s great, Y/N,” he says, and she can tell he means it by the genuine tone to his voice. “What does that have to do with you not orgasming, though?”

She swallows tightly. “Well, my doctor increased my medication over the winter, and one of the side effects is…y’know. Decreased libido and whatnot.”

His eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,” she snorts, leaning back against the cracked leather of the seat. “Oh, shit.”

“And you’ve tried vibrators and stuff?”

“Of course I have, I’m not an idiot.”

“So how long has it been?”

She nibbles on her bottom lip as she thinks. Even with flings that she’s had over the past few months, they all gave up at a certain point. The sex was still fun, but she was just the only one who wasn’t coming.

“Well, I can give them to myself if I… work at it,” she mumbles, folding her hands in her lap. “But with a partner? Probably… six months.”

“Six months?!”

The look on Harry’s face is dramatic and theatrical, as if she just told him she was moving halfway across the world and participating in some kind of 90 Day Fiance situation. 

“Shut. Up.” she says through grit teeth, sending him a harsh look. “I don’t need a reminder of how shitty it is.”

“Who the hell are you letting in your bed?” he demands sharply. 

“It can take me an hour, Harry, I don’t expect every person I sleep with to be that patient.”

“They should be, Y/N.”

With a shake of her head, she glances down at her phone on the table. Everything has always seemed so simple for Harry — he’s one of those people where things just come easily for him, no pun intended. A part of her wishes they never delved into the subject matter. Vulnerability somehow always bit her in the ass and this instance was no exception. 

“I’m gonna get going,” she says, pushing her empty glass to the center of the table. “Thank you for the drink, H. It was good to see you.”

His eyes soften as she begins to scooch her way out of the booth. Quickly, he throws a few bills down on the table and gets up to follow her. 

“Can I walk you out, please?” he asks, swallowing as his stomach brims with nerves. She nods, though he’s unsure if it’s a reluctant response. Silently, they leave the bar together, and he nibbles on his bottom lip as she pushes the front door open. The spring air is a welcomed breeze from the sticky interior of the establishment, and she shifts on her feet as she turns around to face him. She parts her lips as if she’s readying herself to bid him a final goodbye, but he beats her to it. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he says as he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “I just meant— like, you deserve better, is all. Someone who will be patient and care to learn your body.”

Y/N nods slowly. “Right. And you’re that person.”

Her tone teeters on mocking and it sends a harsh hit straight to Harry’s chest. He shrugs.

“If you wanted me to be.”

She doesn’t reply to that, but she doesn’t make a move to leave, either. 

“I’ll think about it,” she finally says, and Harry’s eyebrows shoot up in shock. “My hand cramps up when I’ve been at it for too long. Maybe it’ll be nice to have someone else try.”

He huffs out a breathy laugh. “Just let me know and I’m there.”

. . .

A few days later, when Harry is at a friend’s house, he receives a text from Y/N: Are you free right now?

In all honesty, he’s surprised that she’s — assumingly — taking him up on his offer. Y/N remains to be one of the most stubborn people he’s ever known (one time she spent an entire week trying to put together a desk she’d purchased before asking anyone for help. The only reason why Harry was able to do it for her is because she’d called him over for a “destress fuck” and he finished it while she slept). 

He swipes down on her message, his other hand occupied by some shitty IPA Lizzy’s new boyfriend had bought. He keeps asking Harry if he likes it and he has to lie about tasting the hints of citrus, even though it tastes like every other crappy beer he’s consumed. 

At a friend’s house, he quickly types back, Why? Is your hand cramping?

He can basically feel her rolling her eyes as he bites back a smile, watching as the three dots appear to signal her impending response. 

Yes. I was wondering if you wanted to come over.

He’s unsurprised by the casual invitation on a Friday night at 9:40 p.m. (it seems that, as far as hookups go, Y/N hasn’t changed much since college). Nibbling on his bottom lip, he uses his free hand to type a response. 

I’m sorry, I would if I could. I’m trapped at this “apartment-warming” party for my friend. Apparently people host housewarmings even if they’re just renting a new place.

Y/N immediately types back: As much as I’d love to debate that with you, I’m really just looking for an orgasm. So if you’re busy, I’ll go back to buzzing at my numb clit.

Harry snorts at that before placing his beer on a coaster and excusing himself to the bathroom. Once he’s locked the door, he’s quick to pull up Y/N’s contact and press the pad of his thumb to her number. 

“Hello?”

She sounds confused and frustrated when she answers and Harry smirks at that.

“Hey,” he greets, leaning back against the white porcelain sink. “I’m calling about your orgasm.”

“You’re seriously not trying to have phone sex with me right now.” 

Her tone is as deadpan as it gets, and the monotone nature is enough to make a small bit of insecurity crawl into Harry’s stomach. 

“Well, I was planning on talking you through it. ‘S not really phone sex if only one person’s getting off, I think.”

She lets out a noisy sigh and there’s some rustling on the other side. He waits for her response and is surprised when she agrees. 

“Fine,” she huffs, and he can envision the way her eyebrow raises just slightly when she’s decided to give into something, “Let’s give it a try. Porn is getting boring anyway.”

“What were you watching?”

“Well, when you’ve been trying to come for 40 minutes, you end up in some… odd places,” she says. “I started out with lesbian porn, then found my way into threesomes, and somehow I ended up at double penetration.”

“Ah,” Harry nods, “Sounds like you’re having some sort of craving for group sex, then?” 

A pause. And then: “I guess. I’ve never tried it, I just think it’s hot.”

“What’s hot about it for you?”

He thinks he hears her swallow, but he can’t be completely sure. 

“I just like the idea of pleasing more than one person. I think that’s how I got to double penetration stuff.”

“Oh, I see. You want to be used.”

It’s blunt and it’s to the point, but he’s not wrong — he knows he’s not, because he slept with her for six months straight.

“I guess,” she replies non-committedly, “I guess it’s like… a fantasy of getting two people off and them feeling that way because of me. Through oral or… being inside of me, or whatever.”

“So what’s your threesome fantasy, then?” Harry pushes, though his tone teeters are near carelessness at this point, “Girl/boy? Boy/boy? Maybe it doesn’t matter. Who do you want to be between?”

Y/N exhales shakily, “I’ve never thought about it.” 

“Well, now you are.”

She doesn’t immediately reply, but he knows she responds well to the calloused persona he suddenly obtains. She’s always been this way — submissive and good, always looking to please him intimately. It’s too easy for him to put the pieces together and solve the puzzle.

“I guess I like the idea of being with two guys, but it doesn’t matter much to me.” she eventually decides.

“Okay. And in your deepest fantasies, what are these two men doing to you?”

Another pause, though he thinks he hears a shuttered sigh on the line. He doesn’t mention it — not yet at least.

“Maybe… maybe one’s inside of me and the other one’s in my mouth.”

“And how is he fucking you? Is he on top of you, missionary style, or are you on your hands and knees while he fucks you from behind?”

A breathy whimper departs Y/N’s lips and this time it’s loud enough for both of them to hear. He smirks at the sound of it. 

“I like the idea of him behind me. A-and the other one fucking my mouth.”

Harry hums, almost as if he’s praising her. “Close your eyes and envision it, then. Think about how you’re letting two men take advantage of you and use your body, just so they can get off. One’s fucking into you from behind, spanking your ass and grabbing your hips like you’re just some kind of toy to him. And the other one is thrusting deep into your mouth, making you choke, getting you all drooly for him. You’re nothing but a set of holes for them, honey. Isn’t that sweet?”

On the other line, all Harry hears is a series of shattered moans and low curses. Even though it’s been years, he can imagine the way her muscles are all tensed up, her pussy clenching around a dildo or her fingers. He wishes he would’ve asked so he could envision it, too.

“I-I think I’m gonna cum,” she whimpers out, and Harry palms himself through his trousers at the sound of her high-pitched mewls. 

“There you go, blossom. Atta girl, just let go. ‘S easy, let it go for me,” his voice is a near coo and it makes Y/N’s eyes roll back into her skull. It’s like he knows how easy it is for her brain to ping pong to other far less sexier thoughts — like the dirty plates in the dishwasher or the unfolded laundry in the corner of her bedroom — so he continues crooning through the receiver, his low, soft voice guiding her through every bump and ridge of her impending orgasm. 

When she comes, she comes hard, considering it’s been a solid two weeks since she’s been able to give herself an orgasm. It shoots through her entire body and, even with her eyes shut tight, the fantasy she created still plays through her brain — except now, it’s not two mystery men. Now, it’s just Harry fucking into her, all tan muscles and sweat pearling at his hairline. 

She’s boneless and exhausted when she finishes, her throat dry from the involuntary moans she let go. She only remembers she’s still on the phone with Harry when she hears him clear his throat, followed by a call of her name. 

“Hey, sorry,” she mumbles as her cheeks flush a deep red hue, “T-that was good. Thank you.”

“Yeah? You finished?”

If she had more energy, she would roll her eyes. Of course she finished. The entire neighborhood knows she finished.

“Yeah.” she mutters shortly. “Have a good time at your apartment-warming party.”

Harry huffs a laugh, “Yeah, ‘cos that’s what I’ll be thinking about for the rest of the night.”

She doesn’t have a chance to ask him what he means before he’s bidding her goodbye: “Let me know when you wanna do this again. I’m around this weekend.”

#writing #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one direction #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles au #one direction #harry's house #hs4 #fineline #harry styles smutty imagine #harry styles smutty fic

[occamstfs]

Actually, They're Called Tetrominoes

Been holding out on some kinda Video Game trigger, here's a bit of an odd Russian cultural/racial TF, enjoy! -Occam

Michael could stand to be a more pleasant person. Day to day he is a pretty run of the mill head-down kinda guy, amicable but never really goes out his way to chat or make friends. Instead he finds his free time often used to prowl the internet looking for people to torment online in whatever way he finds funny at the moment. Born too late to be a goon on SomethingAwful he typically pages through Reddit threads and communities looking for someone sensitive or cartoonishly argumentative.

This is precisely where he finds himself tonight, being a pedant on some video game thread that he doesn’t truly care about. Some presumably Russian user, u/ZandrIvnov, seems to be quite proud of Tetris which Michael finds incredibly amusing. As an American he too takes pride in many of the cultural exports and ideas that his nation has sent into the world, including many of the deeply entrenched ideas about the Russian and Soviet people taught in world history. It takes especially little for him to decide to start taunting and baiting this man sitting at his keyboard a world away.

Michael launches petty taunts at the Russian, poking fun at his nationality and Eastern Europe at large, stopping short at making fun of the man’s less than perfect English, for now at least. Michael switches between accounts to upvote his responses and even add additional dunks on the Tetris-fan as needed. Try as he might though to get the conversation away from the ancient game and get some more personal and profane digs in there he finds it difficult to find any truly satisfying or clever insults.

Getting tired of hearing this man assert Russian superiority he prepares to pull the ripcord and move on before he sees the Russian misstep talking about the game he’s so invested in, as probably the only fun fact he has on deck comes to mind. After the Russian so eloquently compares Michael’s head to a Tetris piece Michael immediately replies, “okay lol big fan huh they’re actually called tetrominoes” and then moves on to find some other doofus to bully on the internet.

On the other side of the screen Sasha seethes at the man, so juvenile in his mockery “Проклятые американцы. (Fucking Americans.)” He takes to his own keyboard messaging Michael directly as his arrogant messages dry up in the thread proper, Sasha was going to have him put his money where his mouth was. He offers a challenge, “u americans are so proud da? how about we see whos country rly is the best”

Michael felt his pulse rise in excitement at how much he has truly bothered this man. Smug smile on his face as he types his response, “what did u have in mind, Zander?”

“Саша(Sasha) is my name. since u are so smart about tetris, why not see who is actual master of game da?” Sasha offers, knowing already that the troll is sure to accept out of pride alone. Michael wasn’t all that much of a gamer but surely he could show this dweeb what’s what yeah? He starts looking up tips to win Tetris as he replies “sure whatever dude, what are u thinkin”

Sasha smirks as he has Michael right where he wants him, “loser agrees with winner about national superiority? should not be problem if you americans are so good at every thing” Michael was already eager to give it a go and Sasha’s taunt only makes him all the more raring to go. Before he can even pause his meager attempt to study strategy, Sasha sends over a link to the game and Michael clicks over to play, leaving the cheat sheet open on a second monitor. 

Michael types his name into the game and finds himself looking at a familiar screen. He’s never played the game competitively but it’s a pretty simple game right? He just needs to keep his cool once the pieces start flying in. He gets the cheeky idea to check the cheat sheet in between pieces. That’s that good-old red white and blue ingenuity, Michael thinks. Unaware that these are of course also of the Russian flag. There’s a ping from the board as Sasha uses the in game chat to ask “u understand the rules da”

Michael sends back a thumbs up and Sasha sets the game going. It is predictably uneventful at the beginning, neither man making any particularly interesting plays. Michael continues to skim how to best cheat the game while Sasha waits for the perfect moment to fuck him over. Michael finds himself enjoying the game more than he thought he would as he hears the familiar tune, it is awfully catchy isn’t it? He’s gotta hand it to the soviets for that. His gameplay slows down as he tries to speedread the page on his other monitor. Instead of forcing pieces quickly he instead lets them drift slowly while his board is relatively clear. Sasha sees this and decides to go in for the kill.

Suddenly as Michael’s eyes wander away from the game for just a second too long there is an unfamiliar sound. He darts his attention back only to see the floor of his Tetris board rocket up in response to Sasha doing an impossibly well timed combo of lines. Michael’s heartbeat increases at a shocking rate in response as losing becomes a very real possibility. Why is he so upset? His face grows red as he realizes just how outclassed he is. Obviously this is no big deal right? Just a game. But Michael cannot help but feel physically uncomfortable as the tides start to turn so swiftly. 

There is suddenly a crick in his neck that he stretches to avail but only exacerbates as a soreness begins to spread further across his body. Man is he tensing up too much? It’s just, it’s just a game right? Trying to calm down he is hit with the thought as if it were a shot of adrenaline that he absolutely cannot lose this game. His eyebrows furrow as they begin to square and thicken, casting dark shadows over his rage-filled eyes. His limbs take turns cramping as he clenches his neck and jaw to distract from the pane, not noticing as the structure of his face begins to change. 

His chest grows to join the chorus of muscle spasms as Michael struggles to keep up with even Sasha’s slower gameplay. Across the seas Sasha takes his time, knowing victory is in the bag, and savoring what he knows must be happening to his little troll Michael right now. He smirks as he imagines the discomfort in Michael’s changing body as he feels warmth grow in his own chest, and crotch, as he decides just how much he wants to play with his food. 

Back in the states Michael finds the heat, the sweat, the tightness of his clothes increasingly unbearable. As he continues to mash buttons on his remote he is too intent on the game to notice as hair begins to darken around his forearms and begin to snake its way towards his hands. He rubs them each down to placate the tickle on his growing arms. This is absolutely nothing to the creeping itch that is starting to encompass the entirety of his rapidly expansive legs. He shifts his heavier thighs trying to soothe the discomfort, making a loud sound as they pull away from the sweat sticking them to the chair but not allaying the soreness or itch in the slightest.

He grunts and notices not how his voice has grown both deeper and gruffer in his throat. Michael struggles to keep the remote from slipping out of his hands as sweat trickles down from his hairy arms and into his palms. Before it becomes a problem however Michael takes advantage of the lull in Sasha’s gameplay and tries to quickly remove his far too strained shirt. It should be a simple task after all, just put the remote down for a second, slide it off, and then back to the game. He does a brief check in to ensure he has even that and after believing he does Michael starts to try and remove the shirt strained and sticking to his skin.

He has precious little time as the pieces continue to fall at their set pace in game. He gets one hand under the hem of his shirt and tries to wrench it while keeping his other hand on the controller, this lets in a breeze of cold air sending quivers of pleasure across his pulsating muscle, as well as igniting a burning ache in his chest and torso. His upper body grows even further, finally overfilling his shirt as the sound of tears ring out in his bedroom alongside the same repetitive folk song he knows well. The idea that this shirt was loose fitting when he threw it on this morning or that he just identified the Tetris theme as a folk song rather than an 8-bit annoyance don’t have a chance to come to mind as he struggles to remain focused on not losing the game.

He pulls the shirt up to his chest before it gets uncomfortably stuck “Ach, bog uh- god damnit.” He scratches at his chest as the soreness and growing muscle makes way for a fiery prickling as the few chest hairs he has been a tad ashamed of begin to thicken and darken on his chest. Swirling out from his nipples and inching higher on his chest with each breath, he continues to struggle to remove himself mindlessly. Finding his shirt caught on his expansive pecs he rubs his hand underneath it across his sweaty chest, and finding it pleasurably drag through more hair on his pecs than he would’ve sworn he had in his pubes, he resolves to remove the shirt however he can. 

As soon as he finishes a line Michael tosses the remote down and goes to raise his shirt above his head, his thicker arms struggling as they adjust to their new range of motion. He wrests the tight shirt above his head, his chest bursting large once more, freed from the garment as the breeze tickles the sweat covered chest hair and forces his enlarged nipples to harden. Having overcome his suddenly massive pecs the neckline is now caught on his chin, his arms raised high above his head expose his pits to the cold open air. He feels the air con blow against his recently shaved pits as the hair begins to grow back. It starts to catch as the hair begins to grow thicker and longer than it had ever done before, curling together as new hairs begin to push out and form a bush thick enough to never see the skin beneath again.

This also brings his attention to new development in his body, with his face shoved into his shirt it would be impossible not to notice the unbecoming amount of sweat soaking it. Arms raised though he finally notices that he has an altogether far more powerful scent, on par with a macro-obsessed body builder or hygiene-phobic wild man. Michael feels a beard start to push out into the shirt still hugging his face. Shaving once a month was more than enough to keep him clean shaven but now he knew deep in his mind that he would never have a day again where his face would be smooth. It’s that Ru- That American blood in him, right?

He begins to feel himself lost in the scent as his mind begins to grow distracted, attention fading from the game despite the looping tune filling his mind. He turns his head to smell his pits through his shirt which is when he hears the dreaded sound of Sasha making a combo once more, “Gah! Nyo, I can’t lose” he shouts, not noticing as his rough tone begins to develop a slight accent. Ending the long-standing struggle against his shirt he simply rips it off and jumps for the controller, ashamed at how foolish and lustful he has suddenly found himself in the middle of this all-important competition.

He needs to make his people proud! He cannot let Amerika down, ya? His focus and vision return to the game as he stumbles through one more line before all the pieces fall from view and the game declares Sasha the winner. Mikael reflexively pounds his table shouting, “Ny- no! I, this!” struggling to find any words to make his loss okay. Unable to notice just how bizarre this game has affected him, though sure that something grave has occurred. He scrambles to the chat box where he sees Sasha has yet again beaten him to the punch, “gg Брат(brother) yes?”

Mikael’s eyes don’t even notice the language switch in the message as he quickly races to demand a rematch. Punching keys slower than the career-cyberbully is accustomed to, almost as if he would be more comfortable with a different keyboard format, slowly he punches his response “one more best dva out of tri ya?” Sasha laughs out loud seeing Mikael suddenly typing out anglicized Russian. He smirks and squeezes his crotch in excitement at just how far this American brat has fallen into his hands. Sasha responds in full Russian knowing that Mikael may as well already be his countryman. “конечно, почему бы и нет, брат (sure why not, brother)”

Mikael smiles as he prepares for yet another go against Sasha, he’s eager to learn from his, uh? Suddenly he can’t quite remember how he knows Sasha exactly as his memories of his persistent pathetic history of being a troll begins to fade from his mind. As the Tetris theme starts once more with the game Mikael finds himself singing along as the words to the folk song it is based on, blushing at the vulgarity therein.

The race is on once more and though he was sure this was a competition against his friend, no, his брат(brother), Sasha, He can’t help but feel a giddiness as the game progresses. He feels a warmth in his chest just from playing a game of his childhood, of his country? No he’s a born and bred statesman da? He’s from, uh Moscow is a city in one of the states too da? Though he finds himself distracted his body continues to expertly control the game subconsciously.

He blushes as he struggles to remember where he grew up, it was a smaller town for sure. Somewhere very far North for sure, after all why else would he grow so hairy! He launches into a hearty laugh as body hair continues to push out from every pore in his body, sure to be peaking out from every shirt collar on both sides. He scratches at his pubes as it becomes clear that even besides his massive package there will evermore be a bulge in his pants from this unkept jungle as well. 

His eyes continue to follow the pieces up and down as they slowly begin to lighten and bleach themselves an icy blue. The itchiness that has made itself at home through the whole of its body is replaced with a burning pleasure as he thinks oh his home. Full days where there is only sun, long treks into the city to visit St. Basil’s, helping his mother fry pirozhki. The hair atop his head bleaches itself a sandy blonde while still thickening and pulling itself short as a lightbulb goes off in his head his voice rumbles in his chest as he reflexively speaks in what must be his mother tongue, “Конечно! я спрошу у Саши (Of course! I’ll just ask Sasha).” 

He goes to pause the game as he now knows he can do and types to Sasha in chat, “hey брат, wher am i от again?” Sasha smirks at just how easy this was stopping short from fully masturbating as he thinks of his new massive countryman living a world away as he replies, “недалеко от Москвы, Миша (just outside of Moscow, Misha).”

Misha’s eyes glaze over as he reads this, the room around him changes, American flags familiar patterns shift into the Russian tricolor. Any writing within the room shifts from English to the cyrillic alphabet and Misha sits there with a smile as he recalls his home. Long winters working alongside his best friend Sasha. His neck thickens and his waist expands as he thinks of long nights drinking alongside his friends to abate the cold. The game of Tetris continues on and he again feels a warmth in his chest at the chance to play with his dearest Друг(friend) Sasha.

For the life of him he can’t quite remember why he has moved to Америки though he is sure that Sasha will know. Sasha always knows the right thing to do. One thing is for sure though, he is going to do his Motherland proud.

#male tf #cultural change #hair growth #muscle tf #masculinization #racial change #mental change

[hyukaslvr]

strong enough | J. Jungkook (3)

<series masterlist

pairing: Jungkook x (f) reader

genre/tags: idol! Jungkook, idol! reader, idiot exes to lovers, slow burn ; k-drama feels (our beloved summer but not at the same time), angst, drama, fluff, smut

warnings: foul/explicit language, alcohol consumption, unhealthy coping mechanisms, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters, panic attacks, reader is harsh towards Jungkook, Jungkook is a meanie!, mentions of old abuse (major trigger warning!!), talk about blood and wounds

w.c: aproxx 11.2

series summary: you and Jungkook have too many personal problems, during and after your relationship and it keeps getting brought up. you both had tried multiple times to ignore the fact you were both struggling mentally and physically due to your workplace, but you always run back to each other. maybe one day, one day you'll get back to each other, with all your problems handled, maybe not. all you want is for him to shine like he always does, all he wants is you.

a/n at very bottom!

To my love, my forever. You will soon find out the reason why I am the way am I. Give me some time, my love, I will express everything and more to you. Soon, you’ll have everything once I am able to love and care for myself the way I want to do to you. You deserve everything and more than what I could ever give you, and I will be there for you always. I may never give you this, I may never allow you to read this. But just know, you mean so much to me. Even if I’m a pain in the ass, or if I piss you off, you will always be the person who helped me want to change for the better. I know it may seem like i’m leaving you behind, but pushing you away is the best way for me and you to be able to find ourselves. Once we are settled and ready, I will never let you go, ever again. Mark my words, use them against me, but I know that once you let me in, I’ll never leave your side ever again. You’re my one and only, forever. You are my future, my light, the person who drags me to be right. You mean so much to me and more. But for now, let me go to become the one that deserves your love and wellbeing. Take care of yourself, Jungkook, you will do many good things in life, with or without me.

“i think you should give it to him,” one of your members slur out, making your already wobbly head tilt up to her as she hiccups for the 5th time that same hour, you sighed and your head pounded as your squinted tightly to look at her, “seriously! i think he would want closure that way,”

Jungkook definitely did. he knew that when you wrote letters, you meant every little thing. he knew something happened between you and your ex, his name is like a slap in the face to you, and he could always notice.

his hands started to shake as he continued to read your note, he didn’t know how you came all the way to his house just to ring the door bell and drop it off. he was even shocked to notice his name in your handwriting on the top of the note. he wasn’t mad about it, he was just so, so sad. his eyes burned as another drop fell onto his lap. Jungkook knew it was for the best, but why does it hurt so bad and why does he feel like he’ll never get better while you do?

Jungkook didn’t want to think that way, but he did. he always did, he hurts to see you go but hurts even more to see you shine without him. he kept all your little notes in a box, he was really considering giving it back to you since it was at some of your most vulnerable times. he wouldn’t want to keep these just in case he snoops through them, like he’s doing right now as he was putting the other note in there along with the tons of others.

one of them wrote a song that you made about him, him never leaving you and the way you love him. it breaks his heart more, knowing that you’re no longer around, and that he just keeps fucking up.

when you wake up the next morning, your hungover member told you about a box she found outside the door step with your name on it, your ears ring as you stand in front of the box sitting on your bed, biting the inside of your cheek because this was Jungkook’s box. it had a polaroid of the two of you with shots in your hands on his balcony last summer. it was his favorite picture of you both and wanted to keep it with all the letters you even written him.

you pace around your room for like and hour, biting your lip and running your hand through your hair to calm yourself down. it finally felt like you guys were officially over, no matter how many times you’ve broken up. when you opened it finally, there was a new one, one you definitely didn’t write. you don’t even remember going to his house and giving him the one you were gonna keep for your sake.

it was Jungkook’s hand writing, you knew it from the back of your palm, literally as you have a tattoo that he gave you himself. it read,

forever

and looking at it makes you sick. you felt like crap anytime you thought of him, what you had put him through, all the stuff he doesn’t know about you. you knew him so well, but did he actually even know you, truly? it made you want to cry, the tears lining your waterline and you fight the urge.

you give yourself time before opening up his letter, preparing yourself for the worst or to cry. when you start reading it, you felt like he was there with you. it felt as if he was pacing around your room, looking you dead in the eyes and telling you everything you’ve been wanting to hear, but at the wrong time.

I miss you a lot, I know I say that a lot, but it’s true. I’m glad you wrote me this, I’m glad you’re trying to find ways to open up to me, I’m glad you love me. You are my everything, I want what’s best for you, and if it’s not me then so be it. You deserve the whole fucking world, and I hope you know I tried so hard to give it to you. Maybe, in the long run, we can be happy together. Maybe we can be able to know each other truly, I always wanted to. I believe in right person, wrong time, because you’ll forever be my person, even if i’m not in the picture. I love you, ______, I always will.

you wanted to sob, you didn’t even know what to do. you had dropped the note off not expecting anything back, but getting everything back? even a letter from him, confessing how much he loves and cares for you. you didn’t know how to feel, if it was closure or not. to you, yours was supposed to be. his, his was a love letter, you’ll never let go of it.

you had one more promotion for you group, and you had to prepare in so many ways. you had to practice tons, and practing handling your emotions until you’re a zombie to what you truly feel, you couldn’t handle being around Jungkook for long. it’s crazy, how much you used to look at him thinking you’d never do anything to hurt him, yet you’re over here making him suffer because you are in your head. it tears at the deepest parts of you, and it makes you feel so much at once.

so when it came to the event, you felt your knees lock when you saw him sitting with his team. he looked breathtaking, and it sucks that you can’t look at him for long before you cry because he looks too good. Jungkook always looked good, but whenever you wanted to ignore him, it’s like he knows and wants to look that fine. you gulp hard because walking to over your assigned seats, a couple seats back behind them but at an angle to a way that you can see every part of Jungkook, his hands and thighs especially.

ones that put you through hell, sent you to another universe is what he would of said and has said before, smoking off your balcony as you sat on his lap with your legs shaking trying to not fall off. he laughed as he smacked your thighs, watching them shake more as you practically whine in soreness.

he took another puff off his cig before putting it down on his designated ash tray, but even knowing you didn’t smoke, he kissed you hard, forcing the hot smoke into your mouth and through your pipes, allowing him to do anything to you because you were obsessed with everything he did.

“fucked you out, huh, princess?” he said against your ear as he gave you a second to breathe, making you almost choke as his hand started to move down and between your thighs, giving them a squeeze before going deep between them to touch you where you shook the most.

let’s just say, the memory had your legs close tightly together. the thought of how much have gave you that night, it made you miss him even more for just taking care of you like he said he would. you could feel it starting to stick against your skin, immediately wanting to go to the bathroom.

you thought you were stable enough to walk down the stairs in front of all the idols and fans including, instead you almost dropped face first into the steps instead someone’s hand wrapped around your waist and around the inside of your thigh, gripping it hard as they held you from falling to your death infront of thousands of people.

“your shoes too big for you, baby?”

you really thought you were going crazy, that his presence was just teasing you. but as your eyes dragged themselves down to the hand around the inside of your thigh, you weren’t going crazy. the tattoos proving who the man really was and how his thumb was very close to your throbbing clit. you shivered before quicking bowing at him once you leave his grip and speed walking towards the exit.

the moment you got alone in a hallway, you looked around before pulling out your phone to text your leader where you were going to be, the bathroom, before you hear a door open behind you. you go to put your phone away, but a tight grip around your waist turns you towards the person, your phone falling on to the floor and your mouth to open up, perfect for the attacker to kiss you hard.

another hand grabs your hair and you immediately knew who it was based on the way he was holding you. he knew, and knew it was because of him. that’s all your thought about when his lips were softly against yours, until you felt his hands creeping up. he just knew how to distract you from the facts and knows how to get you to enjoy his attack.

“can we talk soon, princess?” he whispers lowly in your ear once he pulls away from your now desperate lips trying to reach his. you whimper at the nickname, one that just rolls off his tongue in such a degrading way, he grabs your chin softly, turning your face to face him. his eyes invited yours, and the longer you looked into them, the more you felt entranced by him.

“talk about what?” you sighed into his hold, which he notices and gives you your favorite smile in the whole world. it hard to ignore his hands gripping your waist, your hands clinging onto his dress shirt as he holds you, you didn’t expect to be in this position.

“we will talk later tonight, i’ll pick you up?”

“how, with what car-”

“i’ll figure it out, anything for you,” he presses his forehead against yours, making your eyes squeeze shut as he lets out a little chuckle because of your reaction to his proximity being so close to you, you could almost feel his breath against your lips. “you know i’ll do whatever i need to do to see you, i will figure out a way to see you later tonight, bunny, i promise,” he kisses your nose softly before letting you go without your even realizing he picked up your phone for you, a smile across his face as you nodded your head for him.

Jungkook didn’t give you a time, or a place to when he was going to pick you up. before you left the event, you had asked him what he was planning on doing with you and he just told you that you’ll have to wait and find out. Jungkook knew how to make you worry about what could happen. what should you even wear? is he taking me somewhere to eat? it’s kinda late for that-

doink

something just hit your window as you were pulling your pants up, you almost tripped in shock but managed to pull them up and fix yourself before going to your window. there he was, the man of your dreams, the love of your life, standing down there searching for more rocks to toss at your window.

you cracked your dorm room window open, not even wanting to question how he managed to get over the brick wall to get into the dorms, and he smiles when he sees your head peaking from the bottom of the window. he pats his hands on his thighs while you watch him with curiosity.

“get down here bunny, we have a lot to do tonight,” he stood up straight, hands put in his pockets as he stared off at you. you would of jumped right there into his arms after that nickname, you almost whined before nodding your head like an idiot and shutting your window.

you managed to sneak out, grabbed your shoes at the front and headed out from the back blind spot and running to where Jungkook stood, his hands tucked in his pockets to stay warm. his left arm raised so you could wrap your arm around it, a habit of the both of you. you just ignored the bad feelings and wrapped your arm around his, feeling his arm tighten around yours as you both started to walk to the car.

“you gonna tell me where we’re going, Jeon?” you tilt your head, your left knee against his center console as your left side rested on his passenger seat. his hand slid up to your knee, leaving you in shock as he gripped it in warning.

“stop asking questions, baby,” he tapped his finger on your knee, not even bothering to look your way. you huffed as you closed your eyes, trying to ignore his thumb moving against your thigh now, his hand resting against it too.

“Jungkook, you know we can be doing this again. i know you remember what happened last time,” you warned, your head felt like it was spinning, none of this felt real. Jungkook bit his lip ring in thought, he just wanted to talk to you and apologize. he always wants to talk to you even if he’s been rude.

“______, what do you think i’m going to do to you tonight?” he spoke deeply, it sent waves through your spine, and down to your poor kitty. it’s crazy, what this big eyed man can do to you with only his hand on your thigh while he speaks to you like your his.

“i- i don’t know, what are you asking me? i’m just confused why you’re doing this-”

“what do you want me to do to you tonight, baby? is there something else bothering you that only i can fix?” his hand rubs your inner thigh, occasionally softly squeezing the skin closest to where you needed help the most. “i’ll do whatever you want me to do to you, you just have to speak up, darling. is that okay? can you do that for me, princess?”

you almost moaned, gasping at his eagerness to help you with whatever you want, and you knew he meant that. “Jungkook, we can’t be doing thing again, as much as we want to-”

“fuck that and fuck no contact, we were doing good as fuck the last time we were friends. can we not be friends, baby?”

“that’s why! you keep calling me my favorites, you can’t do that to me..” you whined, you wanted to hide away as he giggled at how you whined. when the car slowly starts to come to a stop, you got reminded that the whole time you were talking to him, getting teased by him, he was driving. “Jungkook… where are we?”

“let me help you out and show you,” he smiled, and you just knew that you had to trust him, why? because he’s Jeon Jungkook, why wouldn’t you trust the love of your life?

when he open your door, hand already reaching for his as he helped you out of the car, the smell of salt hit your face in a whiff, making you smile at the moment you had at this beach with Jungkook. but why here? why did he want to talk here?

you didn’t trust your voice, watching his open his back door to grab a blanket and cigs, which you thought he quit, with a lighter and a flashlight. you didn’t say a word as you hugged onto his arm as he walked to a specific place, your guys place. the place where he gave you head for the very first time, you found sand up there for at least a day after that.

“do you trust me, sugar?” Jungkook asked you, tugging you to sit next to him on the blanket over the cold sand at the dark lonely beach. it’s like he knew what you were worried about, could you trust him again? it’s not like he broke your trust, it’s about you trusting yourself around him. if anything besides talking happens tonight, and you guys become exactly what you were afraid of becoming, you won’t know what to do with yourself.

it’s a bit selfish you thought, as his hand rested against your shoulder as you snuggled against his neck, breathing in only Jungkook and a little bit of salt. you loved this, but it couldn’t get any farther than this. just small, and slight, touches and sometimes kisses, only at certain times. the sound of the waves crashing tingled your ears, debating if you should listen to his heartbeat or not.

“do you know why i want you out here with me tonight, baby?” his voice vibrated your cheek as he spoke, his fingers gliding against the thin fabric of your long sleeved shirt. you hummed, you felt him swallow before you moved your head to face him.

“i wouldn’t have asked you that a million times in the car, Jungkook,” he smiles when your eyes finally reach his. he used to ask you, what did you see when you looked into his eyes? you usually just laughed it off or ignored the question, but now you think you know the questions answer. Home. in other words, Jungkook was your confort, the one you would go to, the one who makes you feel the safest, the one who keeps you feeling warm. Jungkook was your favorite.

Jungkook leans in, you can almost feel his breath against the wind, you almost forget where you are when you look deeply into his eyes. he leans so close to you that you could almost kiss him. you feel his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer- and closer to him, until your hovering above him.

you looked down at him, his hand sliding down your waist and on to your thigh to swing your leg over his body. he’s got you now, almost spread wide for him as his eyes glazed your entire body, making your shiver.

“let’s that about why you were so wet when i caught you from eating shit in front of everyone today, huh? or maybe… why you’re so wet right now, was it from the car ride? you just couldn’t wait, hm? baby?” he smacked your thigh, and you almost whimper at his words, “sit down on me, love. you know you want to. i’ll do anything you want me to, just let me in this one or more times and you won’t regret it this time,”

oh boy, you were in for a ride. baby, princess, sugar, darling, bunny, love. hearing that one burned, deeply in two places. your poor heart as you feel his hands grip your sides, and your poor throbbing cunt that it about to get slammed onto his hard on resting below you. either or, you know you’re safe and whatever happens can be dealt with. why? because you’re with Jeon Jungkook, why wouldn’t it be fine?

a/n: holy shit, this took forever and i sincerely apologize!! i love how this episode turned out and i will give you guys a slight warning! spicy scenes are coming up and I’m not backing down from this. it will be the dirtiest, most greatest- yeah! anyways, thank you for your patience, i love you all🥹

taglist: @loumin908 @heartjiminie @cuntessaiii @parkinglot-nights @minsoa97kor @jkgirlfr @lavendersugarplum @gaebestie @whoa-jo @kp0pficdump @yunholuv @skzthinker @shwkoqp18 @veemegatron @kaiparkerwifes @alextgef @nerdycheol @nightappple @nlr1606 @chl0buggy

if your tag isn’t gray, please fix your settings so i can tag you next time love!

#hyukaslvr #writers on tumblr #kpop fyp #kpop writers #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook bts #bts x reader #bts smut #bts army #bts fic #bts x y/n #bts x you #bts x fem!reader #bts x army #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #i love jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkoooook #kpop smut #kpop x reader

[muchlovekatia]

✧ ˚ · . "𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔." — theodore nott

. . theodore nott x

reader ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

SYNOPSIS: you are a good friend. it is just a favor that you need. if only theodore weren't so uncooperative.

⋆·˚ ༘ * 🫐

warnings! :

smut!! ,, mdni ,, oral sex ,, fingering dead dove don't eat ,, swearing .

"do you think it would work.. if i touched her like this?"

.ೃ࿐ 🎞️

〰️

THEODORE NOTT'S dormitory smells of cigarette smoke and light citrus. the scent he wears on his clothes, his skin, his gaze, his breath, as you've always observed. it's the first thing you notice when you invite yourself in without bothering to knock, without even pausing outside of his door, the first thing that has never failed to make you question whether you truly hate him or not.

but the boy sitting at his desk chair, toying with a pen that he lightly touches to his lip, reminds you just why you do. theodore's back is to you, therefore you cannot actually see him, his long legs spread and his eyes directed out the slightly-open window. he quickly looks to the door at the first creak in it's swing, quickly relaxes when he realizes it's you. but you are just as tense as you were walking up. he wears a navy blue shirt, buttons at the top undone, face contorting from question, to neutrality. slightly unfazed, he turns back to the window. "change your mind about that offer, l/n?" the offer was a quickie. yes, this is why you hate him.

keeping your face void of emotion even in your state of mixed annoyance and trepidation, you clear your throat, walking fully in and shutting the door lightly behind you, but staying shy against it still. you are hesitating to say the words. to stall would be to show your utter nervousness, but you also can't just dive into the topic all together, right? at the same time, you know what you need to do. if it's to be a good friend, you will face the reprimand, the teasing. "that will remain a no, nott."

you hear him huff a small laugh, the clicking of his pen against his desk pausing for a few moments, before he swivels his turning chair and faces you. like some king on a throne, addressing a peasant. you keep your irritation at a minimum, making sure you look just as cool and collected as he does. "well? are you going to tell me why you're here, then? i was under the impression you hated me. showing up at my dorm says otherwise."

he holds a look of mischief on his face you want so badly to slap right off. instead, you dig your nails into the meat of your palms, inhale. "trust me, this is the last thing i want. but.."

his brows raise.

"i... i'm here—" stuttering. big no, "—because.. i am in need.. of something... rather specific."

"are you?" his lips quirk up into the grin you know oh so well. "you have me intrigued."

don't shift. don't breathe. don't move. you have the authority here. right? don't you? force the words out, if worst comes to worst, even when your brain is screaming at you to run, even when you know what this will come to. "i need.. a favor, if you may." this has that stupid grin spreading even more, a huffed laugh escaping his lips. you grit your teeth. no, this is you being a good person. don't get mad. "my friend... she seems to have taken a.. liking to you. alexia. the blonde one. i'm sure you know her."

"has she?" he says humorously, tilting his head slightly back. and fuck, you just shifted. focus on the citrus.

"don't act oblivious to it, nott. i think we both know—"

"choose your words carefully, l/n. you want my help, don't you?"

yes, you do. automatically, your mouth closes. maybe he's the one with the authority here. the spread of his legs, the way he loosely holds his arms, the smile on his lips says so anyway.

swallowing and pausing a moment, you make yourself calm down before starting up again. "she.. hasn't told me explicitly, of course. but as her friend, i'm obligated to know these sorts of things. so i know she at least.. likes you. a little. so, i think it would do you both quite well if you gave her what she wants."

theodore, of course plays the role of oblivious so well. he looks more engaged by the syllable you form, more convinced with each breath you take. to you, he looks his usual self. "and what might that be?"

how annoying can he get? you bite the inside of your cheek, shifting on your feet. "i don't know. maybe.. show a bit of interest in her yourself? or even just... smile at her? compliment her? anything that doesn't involve mocking her to get back at me right in front of her." yes, he'd approached you and her a week before, and already, you knew something would go down. laughing at her for screwing up her potion in class, though? that wasn't what you expected at all. you were witness to the look of utter devastation on her face immediately after. "i think it would be in both of your best interests to just give her what she wants."

nott's brows raise slightly. he tilts his head to the side—such a small gesture, but speaking such measures—and leans forward, pen still in his hand, resting his elbows on his knees. "us both?"

and if you weren't nervous then, you are now. the topic... of sex.. or, rather, romantic intentions... with your enemy? it has your legs itching to run far far far from this room, has your hands begging to fidget and twist and turn. but no, you keep them steady, look at him with those cool eyes. "it's no secret, nott, your body count. at least, the girls you fuck don't keep it one."

now, he has the audacity to smile. his lips pull over his teeth in a full blown grin, and he runs his tongue over them, so perfectly handsome in the incandescent glow of his lamp. your thighs squeeze together unintentionally.

"ah, yes. i suppose you're right." he leans back again, lifting his pen back to his lip. "okay, in that case, that task doesn't seem that bad.. but.." he pauses. for effects, you assume, "i wonder.. how should this concern me, if you hate me as much as you claim?"

and he has a point.

theodore is amused by your jitteriness, you know, having to even dabble in the romance topic with him, your enemy, and for some reason, it's not making you angry. but you don't want to discuss that, even. it is not helping your case at all. "look, i ask of you this small favor, just once. you don't even have to like her, go out with her.. if you could just— be nice, at least? for merlin's sake, you made fun of her clumsiness right in front of her just to get on my nerves last week. you know how much she likes you, theodore." you exhale deeply. "so just give her what you both want. for me."

this seems to amuse him further. nott sure does like to toy with you. he stares at you a moment. "is that a command?"

you inhale sharply, tensing. "no."

theodore squints his eyes slightly at you, his head cocking to the right. "mhm.. and if i... help you... do i get something in return?"

oh lord. you grit your teeth. "of course not. i am not going to pay you to lead my friend on. if you are going to do it, if you are going to be kind, you need to want to. that's the whole point. know, though, if you keep up the teasing act around her, or to her, i swear on all that is good that i will never speak to you again. not even to yell or shout or fight you. you'll just look stupid, following after me, mocking me, knowing you won't get an answer."

his lips part into a more toothy smile, and he breathes a short laugh. "not a command. a threat."

confidence restored, you straighten and push back your shoulders, pride gleaming in your eyes. the last thing you expect is theodore drawing himself out of his seat, into a stand, and staying by the desk. "well, surely, i don't want that, do i?" he quips, shaking his head. "to look stupid?"

when he takes a step forward, you feel everything in you halt. your blood, your heart, your thoughts..

"okay, so say i did help you. you think this would work? this.. flirting? you think i'll sympathize with your case just this once, don't you, y/n?" he's drawing nearer. with each step, you feel your skin tighten around your body more and more. "so tell me, what could i do to help, hm? what could you possibly want me to do with your dear friend, y/n? touch her? kiss her, maybe? fuck her? is that what you want from me?" you refuse to budge. well, your body refuses, paralyzed with fear and trepidation.

your stomach is twisting and turning, and the evidence of your nerves are shown through the red on your cheeks. everything in you tells you to run as he stops a few inches before you, reaching out and skimming his knuckles across your arm. your skin ignites beneath his touch, butterflies dancing merrily in your stomach. "would this work, y/n? touching her like this?" he asks, his eyes rising from his hand, to your own.

in your hazy, slightly horrified state, you stammer out, "probably." the last jab at him using the last of your confidence. your cool demeanor is completely gone now. "whatever you usually do works— works a charm."

your whole body is alert yet relaxed at the same time, sick, horrendous desire coursing coursing coursing through you. theodore voices a short chuckle, and in his proximity, you feel it fan out across your face. the smell of cigarette smoke rides his tongue. "oh, but i'm sure you know exactly what this.. alexia would want from me. at least give me the benefit of your advice.."

now, his hand rises to your face, fingers brushing against skin so sweetly it would pass as the caress of a lover. but nott is no romantic. this is horrible, twisted lust. not attraction. surely, right? "tell me, y/n. is this how i should handle her? so gently? should i look into her eyes as i do you? should i hold her face in the way i hold yours?"

your throat is constricting and contracting, heat is gathering in the spots of flesh he grazes with his nimble fingers. you are utterly ruined, unraveled, ravished before him, but there is still some left of you. could he undo the rest? "i don't know," you somehow manage to choke out, eyes darting to his lips, because as you speak, his dart to yours. there is something wrong with your voice. it's high, and pitchy, and so obviously laced with want you don't know how you're holding up. theodore seems to be thinking the same thing.

he does not care.

he leans in, down, his hand slipping to your ear and tucking away your hair, and his lips press oh so benignly to your lobe, that you almost don't feel it at all. you do feel the words he says next though. they are life and death and reincarnation against your skin. "do you think it would work.." he kisses you there again. "...if i touched her like this? do you think it would seduce her?"

all of you is alight. yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes. yes. it would. because it's working right now. "theodore," you say strictly, almost pulling away. you can't. you don't want to.

"y/n. give me an answer."

and is this how all the woman he beds feels? in the moments leading up to the shedding of clothing? do they also feel this alive, but also so dead? and even the thought of the other girls he's fucked cannot stop you from wanting this want to because something more. you can't remember to hate him, even when it's so obviously there in your mind. your desire is blaring brighter and stronger. it is much more tempting. it always has been, hasn't it?

"if i touched her like i touch you, do you think she'd like it?"

so you say what you know you shouldn't. "yes."

and what a word. what a fucking word. because it is one syllable, and three letters, and it doesn't even mean a lot at all. but it is what has theodore pulling away from the whispers of your hair, staring into your eyes like you just harnessed the stars and offered it up as a christmas present. it is what, in mere seconds, has his lips on yours, and his body against your own, and his hands shoved into your hair, and your back against the door.

your body moves on command. theodore's mouth is soft, supple, but he uses it in such a harsh way. this. this this this this this.

his hands roam everywhere all at once, as if they can't feel enough of you. they skim your waist, up your torso, fly to your jaw... there is a slight furrow in his brow. you are his muse. you are the concentration of his force.

and his tongue is prodding your lips, and prying open your mouth, and exploring exploring exploring exploring. fuck you're wet. have you ever been this damn wet? heat is pooling in your core, aching to be touched by the same fingers he's used to mock you. you're moaning into his mouth, muffled by his sweet movements, and the door you're pressed against is no match for his intensity.

"theodore..." you sigh when he pulls away, hastily admiring the mess he's made of your lipgloss. he tilts his head and licks the remnants off, and it's the hottest fucking thing you've ever experienced. you can't help but move yourself against him in your desire.

at that, he lets out a low groan, throwing his head slightly back. "fuc— tell me again— what you always say. say— it again," he whispers breathily, his words short and stammered.

brow furrowed and eyes closed, you don't even think to try and guess. "w— what?"

"that you hate me." his voice is perfectly hoarse. "tell me that you hate me again."

you're pulled slightly from your pleasure, forcing your gaze on him. god, he's so beautiful, your lip product smudged on his face, his hair mussed. when has he ever been this beautiful? or has he always been? why have you never really noticed? he's kissing your neck, your jaw, sucking at your skin, and you say the words with such disregard, but such intensity, you know they aren't real. "i hate you."

and he's kissing your lips again. harder. harder and harder. so fucking hard, you're scared your lips and tongue will be bruised by the morning. "i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you—" you repeat over and over again into his hair as he nips and licks, hands tangled in his hair, as if reciting a spell, a mockery of the school work long forgotten. he makes a sound like a grunt, and suddenly, he's pulling you off the door by the waist and pushing you onto his bed, crawling over you, his lips never once leaving your body. "i hate you so much, it's all i can think about sometimes."

and his grip on your hips tighten until it's painful in that sick, pleasurable way. then, he's kissing down your jaw, sucking and nipping the whole way, like he can't get enough. because he can't. your hands find themselves in his hair, pulling, tangling, squeezing, as you moan out into the warm, citrusy air. "this is a bad idea..." his lips end up on your collarbone, biting into the bone. you arch your back into his touch, wanting more.

"i know." his hand trails down your torso, then under your tank top, feeling the cloth of your bra underneath. and his voice is so raspy and breathy, you question if you ever truly hated him at all, like you always liked to say you do. this doesn't feel much like hate. this doesn't even feel like dislike. "fuck, y/n."

and it's all too fucking much. "theodore— fu— please.."

he's running his hands along the plains of your breasts through your bra, and it's everything all at once. he looks up at you with those dead eyes, studies your face. "yea? you want this? you want my cock?" and he presses a kiss to your collarbone.

when your only answer is a moan, though, he's leaning back up to your face and retracting his touch from beneath your shirt, grabbing your jaw and forcing your eyes on his. his thumb presses against your lips, forcing your mouth open, and hooking on your teeth. "use your words, y/n."

in your haze, you nod at the same time you breathe, "yes, please, theodore. want it— s— so bad.."

at that, he's smiling, straightening, pushing your shirt over your head and throwing it who knows where. he leans back into a kneel to admire your breasts, before sinking back down and trailing sloppy kisses from your neck, to the hem of your bra. you mewl and whimper, hands gripping his hair, as his hand explores, sinking to the clasp and quickly undoing it. when he's pulled off the skimpy cloth, he wastes no time latching his lips to the peaked bud of your nipple, licking and nipping gently. you arch your breasts into his face, crying out as a new wave of pleasure hits. his hand gently travels to your other boob and pinches your nipple, palming the soft flesh.

"so fucking beautiful—" he whispers softly, pulling back to admire you again. with your head thrown back and your brows furrowed, such a look of pure desire twisted into your face, you might just be the most beautiful thing on earth. he can't help but lean forward and kiss you messily again. "god, y/n."

and you can't remember a time where your name on his tongue was anything close to annoying or irritating. he pulls away. "fuck me, theo—" you stammer out, looking at him with such lust, voice almost like a whine, and perhaps it's the nickname, that has him halting slightly, that has him hovering silently over you, searching your eyes, like he might need to hear the words again to confirm, before reaching down and quickly unbuttoning your pants, shoving his hand inside without even bothering to pull them down a bit. either way, you're not complaining. you throw your head back when his finger circles your clit through your panties, pressing ever so slightly yet eliciting moan after moan from you.

"so wet.. you're fucking soaking. is all this for me, baby?" he whispers, watching your face as his fingers toy and play, pulling the fabric aside and teasing teasing teasing. you buck against his hand, desperate for pleasure.

"y— yes! mhmm— fuck—" you choke out, nodding your head rapidly and stupidly along. a smile ghosts across his lips, and the look on his face—if you could see it—would tell you he's feeling like the luckiest man alive. he looks down at where his hand is touching you, retracting it and studying the glistening liquid on his fingers.

"shit," you hear him utter, forcing your eyes to where he's assessing, and the sight has you mewling for more. when his gaze meets yours, he looks utterly lost in desire. "you're driving me crazy, l/n." he drops his hand to the hem of your pants, stare still fixated on your eyes, and drags your jeans and panties down down down your legs.

watching it feels like reading a poem. you throw your head back as cold air hits your soaking pussy, whining shamefully. but his eyes are still on yours, watching, as his finger lightly begins tracing the line of your slit. a gasp, your body tensing. the "theo.." that falls from your lips has him growing harder than he's ever been, and yet, he quietly just teases your entrance, running his digit up and down until you're begging, clenching around open air.

"please, theo.." you plead, meeting his eyes. they look up at you from between your legs, and it is a sight that could make you release then and there. you squirm, a mewl leaving your lips.

and that is his cue. he shoves two fingers inside you without warning, curling them and pumping then in and out of your soaking pussy faster than your brain can comprehend what's happening, while his thumb traces your slit. you choke on a moan, your back beaming off the bed, your mouth falling open. "shit—! theo— oh god—!"

his fingers working at you, theodore gives a curse, studying your pretty pussy. "so tight.. how m'i gonna fit, hm?" he mutters to himself, looking back at you and almost bucking against the bed at the sight. damn, you're so fucking beautiful. he leans back up, kissing and biting down your body as his fingers abuse your cervix. your slick wets his hand, running down his palm, and you moan and mewl and beg, breathing heavily, while he murmurs and blows against your skin.

"i know, i know, baby," he whispers into your neck, trailing sloppy bites over your body until he meets your clit. he retracts his finger, and you whine desperately, thinking he's teasing you, but then, his tongue is licking a stripe up your pussy and his thumb, spreading you open. you cry out all over again, throwing your head back, your fingers finding his hair and tangling themselves in, pushing his face closer. your thighs wrap around his head as he spears his tongue inside you, lapping at your wetness like it's his last meal on earth. "taste— so good, baby.." he speaks between licks.

the sound of your cries and wet licking is all you know right now. your back is arching off the bed over and over again with each delve inside you. all while he stares straight at the glistening plains of your face, screwed in desire, mouth open around all your moans. he keeps a hand on one hip to hold you steady, and one above your pussy, his thumb toying with your clit.

"theo theo theo theo," you repeat in the same way you promised falsely that you hated him moments earlier, grinding yourself on his face. he hums as he licks, and it sends vibrations through your core, his name growing louder and louder with each passing second. "fuck, theo! fuc— ahh—!"

and this should last forever, his tongue lapping and lapping and spearing inside you, his eyes on your face as you take it like he always dreamed you would. his lips latch around the bud at the top of your clit, and it has your legs shaking around his ears, a curse choking out of your throat as you realize you're almost at that edge. almost. there. "i'm gonna— fuck— theo— cumming—!"

and he pulls away.

almost immediately, your pleasure halts. without his tongue, your orgasm is failed, nothing. your movements still. you go quiet. everything goes quiet. confused, frustrated, angry. that's what you are. the magic is gone. you're back to earth, and it is much bleaker than you remember. "what the fuck—?" and when you look down, theodore is standing up, wiping your juices from his face and licking them clean off his fingers. "theo—"

and you think maybe he's going to start again, when he climbs back over you, kissing his way from your collarbone, to your jaw, your fingers confusedly tangling into his hair again. his teeth latch onto the lobe of your ear, tug, and let go, and then.. "tell me, y/n, do you think your dear alexia would like that?"

and quiet ensues, and shock mars onto your face, your lips parting, your eyes going wide, and your blood goes dead cold. nott, with a couple of words, has just ripped a rug from beneath your feet. and you're left on the cold, hard ground, searching for words. and he hovers over your ear like that a moment, all lost, shivers running down your bare spine that was once bounding off this very bed, his bed, and then he's pulling off of you and standing at the edge of the mattress, staring at you with that smug fucking look on his face.

"we'd better hope, hm?" are his last words. and he's gone.

.

for my book girlys, yes, this was inspired by THAT scene in the wicked king (holly black) because CARDAN AND JUDE ARE SOSOSOOSDBDHHEBE 😻😻

go read the cruel prince if you haven't yet!!

#harry potter #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x slytherin!reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #katiasworks #theo nott fic #theo nott fluff #theodore nott fluff #theonottsmut #theo nott rec #theodore nott fic #📄:: katia's masterlist #💼:: katiasworks #theodore nott smut #theodore nott fanfiction #muchlovekatia #theodore nott fanfic #theodore

[bigfatbimbo]

vees' collective dom but the one who just wants to live a peaceful life or something else that leads them to bonk (sometimes physically) vees off doing their villainous things. no, vox, you're NOT dealing with that deer tonight, we've agreed to watch a movie. no, val, you don't overwork your staff, it's fucking noisy. vel, don't you dare ever talk to other overlords like that again, it's risky

tbh, I had an image in my head about such reader complaining about vees' manipulations while some (another) punishment. like that vox could not use his hypnosis to make people buy his new product if he just made it actually useful, so why not he put that stupid head of his to better use on your chest and nothing more. vel should've thinked better on how love potion could be used, so overstimulation to show her it is. and val? wouldn't need that manipulative nice persona if he'd make actually good films and not some animalistic boring shit, so why he won't keep all of his hands to himself and try to be more romantic, sitting behind you, tied so well so he's only able to talk and he better do that

- 🦊

Basically a reader almost (definitely) manipulating the Vees into being less evil. ALSO NOT PROOFREAD!!!

So i’ve had very similar thoughts to this for a while and i’m going to tell you exactly why this would work. Quick lore drop about me but I used to be such a lowkey shady businessman (not explaining anymore than this, i’m healed) and let me just say, people like them are actually very easy to manipulate.

AKA greedy, power hungry, egotistical maniacs. What they do is terrible, thats no denying that, but they think very highly of themselves and their skills. So ‘stop abusing your employees’ not from a moral standpoint, but from a competence standpoint. That sells.

Like the whole “vox could not use his hypnosis to make people buy his new product if he just made it actually useful” thing would absolutely work. It’s a hit against his ego and self competence, and because of the fragility in his facade, it would absolutely cause insecurity.

And reinforcing it with very rough, degrading, dumbifaction style sex would absolutely still have him thinking the next day. He’s sucking your tits or dick or something and you’re making comments like “Aw, look. A job you’re almost good at. Too bad that little head of yours can’t even think of anything useful to society.” Make him cry, you definitely can when it’s a knock at his intelligence and power.

“vel should've thinked better on how love potion could be used, so overstimulation to show her it is.” Oh boy, I know this would get to her. Velvette thinks she’s hot shit, no, she knows she is. So now you’re overstimulating her and making fun of her because really? You had to use, even better, actually put time in to create a whole ass love potion, because not enough people wanted to fuck you?

She’d whine and tell you that’s not why, but come on. I mean, why be that hell bent on something so futile, we both know she’s not selfless enough to just give that away to virgin creeps all over pride. Oh Velvette, who’s came countless times and who’s pussy aches and has makeup running down her face, now has to her your call out on her confidence, and how it’s only boosted by her useless, forceful grab for others attention.

And Val, there’s so much ground to cover. “wouldn't need that manipulative nice persona if he'd make actually good films and not some animalistic boring shit.” Personal callout to his craft, which is clearly just as self indulgent as it is tiring. Your actors look so battered, Val. That’s not a good look, and isn’t that the point? Sex won’t sell if the people aren’t sexy, and that stars cracked lip is positively hideous.

There’s no intimacy, and you doubt someone as talentless as him can even achieve romance. So now he’s tied up on the bed, barely able to move as you sit across from him, not just bored, but reading a book or scrolling on your phone. He’s practically crying out cliche, used lines to romance you, and failing miserably when the whine creeps in.

So basically, the angle with Vox is his fragile power, Velvettes her unimpressive beauty, and Valentino is the implication of him not having a grasp on sex. Oh also fucking them to drill it in their head. Because what, people? Something that impacts the control over their work-life and sex-life will stick. Sex and power go hand and hand when the greedy are lustful.

Now are the results?

Well, Vox would make a show of making more useful products, and still use hypnosis, obviously he’s a shitbag, but there’d be a new level of self-hatred that comes with it, meaning it’d happen less.

Well, Velvettes is a little harder to just… take back as the product is already out there. However, the product promotion goes down ever so slightly because yes, money and power is great, but you’ve done something no one can do. Embarrassed our confident queen.

Valentino actually thinks before hitting an employee to hard, and actually lets actors have conversations because apparently people should have… chemistry? He doesn’t know, he just doesn’t want his porn to be boring or not sexy. His other issue (assault, i’m talking about assault) is not resolved he just leaves less marks.

You’ve successfully watered down a problem for a long-term (but not permanent) period of time. This could be even longer if also plant the idea of falling from power in their head.

Simply “What were you before an overlord? A sinner. What are your employees? Sinners. If you treat these employees to harshly, what will they do? Rebel. To successfully keep and manipulate your power you need your workers to feel more than obligation, but loyalty to you. Not your company or their job. You. Otherwise, keep in mind how other overlords have fallen.”

If you ever try this from a morality standpoint, it won’t work. The angle is power, people, because they will never stop being abusive for the right reasons. However, your domineering behavior in bed has earned you an amount of respect.

I fear I sounded evil in this um… never have this mindset for people who aren’t corrupt evil rapists. Also, I don’t think I talked about the smut aspect enough sorry, I just love character analysis. OH ALSO I haven’t been a sinister salesman since I was 16, everybody, calm down. Everyone has an angle though!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #dom reader #hazbin hotel smut #vox x reader #velvette x reader #valentino x reader #the vees x reader #sub vox #sub velvette #sub valentino #sub vees

[tomssexdoll]

hey boobie it’s your favorite person ever

so i was thiiinking 2009 billy dread era and ur his gf and it was a stressful day for him so while you’re brushing ur teeth and abt to head to bed he comes up behind u n starts kissing ur neck and dragging his fingers under the waistband of ur shorts. 😍😍😍 and then he fucks u rough on the hotel bed. omg and make it a plot twist where since it’s a hotel, tom hears everything and is absolutely traumatized the next day

HI POOKIe

"Fuck.." Bill grunted, slamming the door shut and entering the hotel room, I was getting ready for bed and wondered why Bill was taking so long to come back from Toms room.

They had been discussing some things with the rest of the band and obviously a fight must've broke out. I was brushing my teeth, looking at him through the mirror, "baby what happened" I mumbled, mouth full of toothpaste.

He sighed and walked over, wrapping his hands around my waist and softly kissing my neck, "just the guys..they are so fucking difficult, I make these great decisions and they all disagree" he grunted, fists slightly clenching.

"I know they're annoying baby but just learn to deal with them I guess, you know how difficult Tom can be" I sighed, not paying attention to his kisses and spitting the toothpaste out, bending over and cleaning my mouth out.

Bill grunted and pressed his erection onto my ass, rubbing softly. I smirked and stood back up, feeling his hands snake under the waistband of my shorts, dangerously close to my clothed pussy.

I turned around and caressed his cheek, "how about I take care of you, hm?" he chuckled, "oh no baby I'm in control, get ready" I winced slightly, knowing damn well he wasn't going to go easy on me. He led me to the bed and instructed for me to take my clothes off, I did as I was told and got on my hands and knees on the bed, arching my back to show off my aching pussy to him.

The bed dipped behind me and he smacked my ass hard, leaving a stining sensation after, "don't tease you little shit" he grunted, shoving his boxers down and freeing his cock. I felt the tip at my entrance, softly teasing.

"Mm..put it in.." I whimpered, tired of him taking so long, he grabbed my hair and forcefully shoved it back, whispering in my ear "don't demand shit, I will fuck you when I want and however I want" I nodded and felt his cock slam into me all at once, stretching me out.

"Ah!" I groaned, grabbing onto the sheets until my knuckles turned white. I tried to get over the pain of his cock brutally shoving itself in me, he retracted and then slammed back in, creating a rough pace.

His grip on my hair only tightened, another hand coming around and wrapping itself around my neck, gently choking me. I cried out and felt his tip directly hit my g spot, sending shock waves of pleasure throughout me.

"Oh fuck!" I moaned, rolling my eyes back and clenching my legs together. "Stop that" he smacked my ass roughly, hand returning back to my neck.

His grip on my hair finally loosened, sending me flying into the mattress face first, I stabled myself and gripped onto the sheets again, "fuck sakes.." he mumbled, smacking my ass again.

His cock felt so good in me, his tip kissing my cervix as it roughly pounded into me. "Such a good girl, letting me take my frustrations out on you" he chuckled darkly.

At this point the headboard was slamming into the wall, making a slight dent. I knew we would get in trouble but fuck I didn't care right now, in the moment all I cared about was his cock slamming into my pussy so well.

I felt a knot forming in my stomach, coiling down to my core. My release was near and it was approaching fast, I tried to tell Bill but I couldn't form the words, too much pleasure hitting me all at once, all that came out was, "cumming..fuck.." whimpers left my mouth, feeling his tip slam into my g spot so perfectly.

"Cum on my cock baby.." he groaned, picking up his pace and thrusting harder and faster, I felt the burning in my heat only intensify. Then, my body shuddered, my orgasm crashing down and making me cum all over his cock.

My pussy clenched hard onto his cock, his cum squirting in me and coating my walls. He panted and grabbed my waist, laying onto the bed and pulling me onto his chest. We both caught out breathes for a few minutes before he pulled out and quickly cleaned me up, falling asleep straight away.

The next morning we all met up for breakfast, Tom couldn't even look at us, instead keeping quiet and eating his breakfast. I decided to speak up since Tom was never like this and I was concerned, "Tom are you ok? You're not usually this quiet" I tilted my head, pouting softly.

He finally looked up at me, a traumatized look in his face. "The walls are paper thin Y/N" he sighed, my eyes widened as I turned to Bill, smirking and drinking his juice.

"You fucking asshole you knew! You did it to piss him off!" I smacked his arm and stormed off, leaving the guys to laugh their asses off, except for Tom ofc poor Tom.

tags: @itsmealaiah @tomkaulitzloverr @tomscumdump @tomscumdoll @ge-billsgf @bkaulitzlover @ballhair @charliesgoodboy @estxkios

#tom kaulitz #tokiohotel #bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #smut #bill kaulitz x female reader #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz x y/n #bill kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz fanfic #bill #ilovebillkaulitzhessosexyiwanthimtopoundmypussysoharditbreaksapart #ilovebillkaulitzmymanmymanmymanmyman #ilovetomkaulitzmybfomg #i love bill kaulitz #wet and gushy #soaking wet #wet ass pussy #so yummy #so hot 🔥🔥🔥 #rough smut #roughfuck #intense #degrading k1nk #angry #bill kaulitz angst #angst

[allwaswell16]

All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in April 2024. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup [ @1dmonthlyficroundup ] which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #61 |  ko-fi | fic recs

- Louis/Harry -

🌼 When the Lights Go Out by thelarenttrap / @antidotetogo

(E, 79k, F1 au) In its near eighty years of existence, Formula 1 has never had an out gay driver. In 2017, Harry Styles signs a contract with Scuderia AlphaTauri alongside his childhood friend and competitor, Louis Tomlinson. The next decade of their careers is some of the most tumultuous press--on and off the track--Formula 1 has ever seen.

🌼 Colorful Hearts by Larrysmomfics / @larrysmomfics

(M, 20k, humor) In a world where orgasmic emissions change color depending on the person’s mood, Louis Tomlinson’s semen has only ever been blue. At the recommendation of his doctor he attends a support group for people with similar conditions. 

🌼 In a swirl of flashing lights by @lunaticcat009

(M, 15k, friends to lovers) Harry taps on Louis' window with a sad smile and they sneak into a closed carnival. A starry night of them running around the abandoned premises with their fingers intertwined ensues.

🌼 Fuck You For Ruining New York City For Me by galactic_larry / @galacticlarry

(T, 11k, exes) Louis broke up with him in their New York apartment, so Harry left the city for good. Except now he’s back, visiting with his new boyfriend.

🌼 defying stars by localopa / @voulezloux

(T, 9k, high school) the marching band au only one person (and that was me) asked for.

🌼 Half a World Away by @silverstuff50

(E, 9k, omegaverse) Bothy: A bothy is a basic shelter, usually left unlocked and available for anyone to use free of charge. Bothies are found in remote mountainous areas of Scotland, Northern England, Ulster and Wales. 

🌼 Where All Roads Lead by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings

(NR, 7k, neighbors) Harry's Christmas takes an unexpected turn when he discovers a misplaced holiday card in his letterbox. He never thought that braving the snow to return the card to its sender would be so worth his while.

🌼 Does it Ever Drive You Crazy? (Just How Fast the Night Changes) by xx_soup_xx

(G, 7k, strangers to lovers) Baker Harry Styles takes it upon himself to get his mysterious grumpy customer, Louis Tomlinson, to like Christmas by taking him on a disastrous first date.

🌼 Girl Crush by Hopeless_blue

(T, 7k, strangers to lovers) He used to be so close to fulfilling his dreams when he participated in X-Factor. But that was four years ago, and now, on a rainy day, he wanders the streets looking for a pub where he could sing sometimes. Charming bartender Louis is ready to give him a shot...

🌼 Why Don’t We Start Writing The Story Of Us by red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa

(T, 6k, omegaverse) Alpha Louis and Omega Harry get off on the wrong foot, Louis has the worst timing, and Harry believes in second chances. Three times Louis asks Harry on a date and the one time Harry accepts

🌼 I Might Say Yes by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 6k, established relationship) the one where Harry buys a wedding dress on a whim. And his very doting boyfriend, Louis, is more than happy to indulge him

🌼 now i'm tracin' all my steps to you by @alwaysxlarrie

(T, 5k, 5 times fic) Of all the things Harry was prepared for this summer, Louis Tomlinson and his wonderful, wonderful scent isn't one of them. It probably shouldn't be as shocking as it is that it makes Harry want to nest.

🌼 Crimson Clover by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt

(T, 5k, soulmates) Harry and Louis are soulmates, but one is already promised to another. When their plan to flee is discovered and they are separated, Harry falls gravely ill.

🌼 I’ll tell you something (I hope you’ll understand) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(E, 2k, girl direction) Louis insists that Harry stay off her phone and in the safety of Louis' room rather than risk moping in her own texting her ex-boyfriend. When Harry agrees on one condition, Louis' safe night in could become something else entirely.

🌼 All The Way Home I'll Be Warm by @justanothershadeofblue

(T, 2k, friends to lovers) Harry & Louis jokingly send out holiday cards together as friends, and now everyone is congratulating them for finally getting together. A 5+1 fic, for Christmas.

🌼 beech tree in autumn by @juliusschmidt

(E, 1k, summer romance) Louis walks forward. Harry walks back. And back. And back. Off the two track, through the brush, until his heel bangs against the trunk of a tree.

🌼 hey stupid, i love you by @enchantedlandcoffee

(T, 1k, omegaverse) The one where self-proclaimed Valentine's Day hater, Louis, surprises his boyfriend on their first Valentine's together.

🌼 skinny dip (in water under the bridge) by hazzahtomlinson / @itsnotreal

(G, 880 words, exes) It’s a Wednesday and nostalgia might just get the best of Louis.

- Rare Pairs -

🌼 Finally, You and I (Collide) by @lululawrence

(NR, 14k, Zayn/Louis) the five times Louis was accidentally wooed by cookies and the one time he was purposefully wooed by brownies.

🌼 I Saw Several Angels in the Self Help Section by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(G, 3k, ot5) Zayn and Louis are soulmates. They're also missing some soulmates. For extra flavour, it's Christmas.

#28th appreciation #ficrec #1dficvillage #hlcreators #hljournal #hltracks #trackinghome #trackinghappily #tracksintheam #ficsfor4am #cristalreads

[livingformintyoongi]

The Han Family | Min Yoongi

Summary: You and Yoongi were together during high school. He was only a year older than you, but that never mattered to you. You both fit in perfectly; you had the cheerfulness and positivity that Yoongi lacked, and he had the patience and seriousness that you lacked. You were together until Yoongi entered his second year of college, both of you decided to end on good terms. You never stopped loving him, and deep down you thought he hadn't completely forgotten you either. Despite keeping that deep love that you were sure you would never get over, you decided to go on with your life, seeing more people, having more casual loves, until the arrival of Jumyeon, the Han's eldest son, and the person who would end up signing your death sentence. It had been more than 10 years since you last saw Yoongi, and meeting him again because of your father-in-law's murder was definitely not the way you expected to see him again. wc: 2.9k

You were upset, no, probably upset would be putting it mildly, you were furious. You couldn't believe that your boyfriend, the one you wasted four fucking years of your life for, was cheating on you for over two years, and worse, with his best friend, that same girl he practically forced you to meet because he wanted his girlfriend and best friend to be close. At least his "friend" had the basic human decency to confess to you that she was messing with him for years. 

"I picked your favorite restaurant, I had a hard time making a reservation" Jumyeon said, smiling at you as cheerfully as possible. You almost grimaced, but you tried to control yourself, you were supposed to be a mature woman, for god's sake, you were almost 30, you should be able to have control over yourself.

"Thank you, that's a very nice gesture" you murmured, drinking all the wine in your glass. This didn't even make it into the top 10 of your favorite restaurants. You hated the way they cooked their meat, and you knew the owner in person (who was close friends with Jumyeon), it wasn't much better than their supposedly quality food.

You looked at the large window next to you. The only thing worthwhile about this place was the view of the Han River. It was a sight worth seeing.

"I already placed the order, so all we have left to do is wait" he pulled out his phone for a second, but put it away as quickly as he took it. You assumed she was his mistress, or should you say "friend"?

"Okay" you leaned forward, resting your head on your hands. You wanted to wait for the right moment to tell him, as gently as possible, to go fuck himself.

You listened to him ramble on about his job for what seemed like hours. You had never cared about his work, but at least you heard him, you had the basic respect for him that couples should have. Now that he had disrespected you in such a way, why listen to his complaints? You owed him nothing, no more.

"Oh, thanks for the food," your boyfriend said in a cheerful tone. 

Only then did you pay attention to what was in front of you. The waiter lifted the plate cover carefully, looking at both of you at the same time. He was probably a hopeless romantic.

Unlike him, you just felt nauseous enough to make you lean forward. This man seriously sucked.

"Y/N" he approached you, pulling a red velvet box out of his pocket. "These years by your side have been the happiest of my life" If he was so happy, why did he cheat on you? "I knew you would be the love of my life the moment I saw you", and that's why he was so eager for you to change to his liking instead of letting you be yourself, "and I couldn't have been more right, because, honestly, I can't see a future where you're not" he sank to one knee, bringing out a ring that looked way too ostentatious. You wanted to throw it in his face. "And I know deep down you feel the same way I do, so please do me the honor of making me the happiest man in the world. Marry me."

You stared at him, clenching your fists so tightly that your palms were starting to hurt. You turned to look at the dessert the waiter had camouflaged with the plate cover. A big "Will you marry me?" was written in the center. 

And suddenly, your immature side came out. You could no longer contain your urge to punch this jerk.

"Marry you?" you muttered, taking the small cake with which he tried to propose to you. You smiled almost helplessly. "Did you seriously just ask me that?".

Jumyeon laughed, standing up from the floor and looking at you with a shit-eating grin.

"Well, I know you'll say yes, but I thought that-".

You didn't let him continue, you didn't want to keep hearing his voice, so you did the first thing that popped into your head. You threw the dessert in his face and scrubbed it until there was nothing left. And, my god, it felt so satisfying.

"How can you ask me that after spending the afternoon with your so-called friend?" you growled, leaving the plate of cake on the table. "Are you so unmanly that you need to play with two women at once!?".

You ignored the murmurs from the audience, you didn't want to draw their attention, but you were too upset to speak softly, and he was the one who decided to do this in a public place.

"What? Is your brain not capable of coming up with excuses in such a short time?" you swept him with your eyes, feeling disgusted. "Never mind, I have no interest in listening to your lies anymore anyway." 

You grabbed your purse and pulled out your wallet, throwing a few bills in his face, "So you can pay the bill." 

And you left, ignoring his screams and insults. 

And, for the first time in years, you felt free.

You smiled big as you approached the elevator, and when you came within shouting distance of excitement, a guy a little taller than you knocked you to the floor. 

You complained quietly, taking the hand he offered you, but not seeing his face. You were too happy to complain to him.

"Sorry, I didn't look where I was walking" you gave a little bow, ready to leave. Until you felt a hand stop on your wrist.

"Y/N?"

For the first time since you collided you noticed the man standing in front of you, and shit, how you wished you hadn't crossed paths with him just then.

"Yoongi" you muttered, feeling your throat dry. He looked even more beautiful than the last time you saw him. 

"You look... different" he said softly, letting go of your wrist, but not taking his gaze away from you.

"You too" you tried to smile, but you felt too uncomfortable to do so.You were embarrassed for Yoongi to see you like this. "You're back to black" you hastened to say, pointing to his hair. 

It looked much longer and shinier than the last time you saw it, and it fit him like a glove. If his intention was to make women like you want to tangle their fingers in it, he had more than succeeded.

"And you cut it" he moved his hand up to your mane. Your hair reached only a few inches below your chin, a far cry from the long, unruly style you had when you were still his girlfriend and you swore to him that you would never cut it because it was your most prized possession.

Now you feel even sillier.

"I wanted to try a new style" you nodded quickly, fiddling with the strap of your purse.You were back to feeling like a stupid teenager incapable of talking to the boy she likes. To a certain extent it was true. You were never able to get over Yoongi, you don't think you ever will at some point."But I didn't like it as much as I thought I would" you sighed, tightening the strap on your bag.

"You-?"

"Chaeyoung!" your now ex-boyfriend shouted as he ran in the direction of you and Yoongi. It didn't escape your notice that before he noticed Yoongi's presence, he was coming over annoyed enough to slap you. You saw his hand clenched tightly."What the hell was that ruckus earlier, do you know how many cameras were in the place, how many important people were there?".

"Well, maybe you should have thought your proposal through better" for a moment you completely forgot that it wasn't just the two of you in the hallway, but you didn't care.That son of a bitch deserved someone to put him in his place, and you wanted so badly to be that person yourself. "Or to have fucking zipped your pants when it belonged, or am I wrong? Because if so, say so to me and Minah for that matter, because she feels the same way I do too."

You watched as he fixed his gel-covered hair, turning away for a second to catch his breath."It was an accident, understand? It's not how she painted it."

"An accident over two years old? Can you explain to me how that works? Did you just happen to fall on her and coincidentally your penis went into her because you both happened to be unclothed in the same fucking hotel room?" you laughed listlessly, crossing your arms, "Don't you dare think I'm stupid enough to turn blind eyes to something that's been going on for years."

Yoongi, who had been silent until that moment, cleared his throat, moving forward to stand beside you. You took a breath, trying to maintain your composure in front of him. It was quite a difficult task.

"Are you Han Jumyeon by any chance?" he muttered in a monotone voice staring at your ex-boyfriend. It came to scare you a bit how cold his gaze seemed. Still you thought he was attractive.Very attractive.

"Yes" he looked at Yoongi from head to toe, he looked a little confused, but he was used to that kind of question. He was one of the most well-known businessmen in South Korea, he was in the news quite a bit, so it wasn't strange that he knew him. "Who are you?"

"Officer Min Yoongi" he pulled out his badge from his shirt pocket, "I am one of the people in charge of the investigation of Mr. Han's death, I need both you and your..." his gaze paused for a moment on you before turning back to Jumyeon, "ex-girlfriend come to the police station so I can question you."

"Did you say death?" you looked at Yoongi and then at Jumyeon, covering your mouth with your hand. You wished the worst for that... man, if that's what you could call him, but that didn't mean you wished his father had died in whatever circumstance. If Yoongi was involved in this, it meant it wasn't from natural causes. 

"What are you talking about? My father died? When? How?" he brought his hands to his hair, tugging on it lightly. "You said you were an officer, didn't you? So that means it wasn't an accident?"

You wondered internally if Yoongi saw the same twisted smile you saw.

You saw how he nodded slowly, his impassive gaze stopping on Jumyeon. He didn't seem to pity him, let alone empathize, in fact, if you still had your wonderfully useless abilities to understand Yoongi, he even seemed annoyed with him. Maybe he thought he was guilty? You would think so too after seeing the expression from earlier.

"As I told you before, I need to take you to the police station right now, we need to ask you a few questions regarding Mr. Han, I would appreciate it if you could cooperate as much as possible."

You nodded quickly, moving a little closer to Yoongi, "Did you come by car? Mine is in the parking lot."

"Don't worry, we'll go in mine," he murmured, barely brushing his fingers on your back, "go to the elevator first, I'll go next to Jumyeon."

You obeyed his command, walking to the elevator and waiting for it to reach your floor. You thundered your finger bones as you moved your left leg. You were still a bit in shock with the news, you were trying to think through your next move with Jumyeon, you didn't think things through very well before throwing the dessert in his face and shouting to the four winds that he was unfaithful to you with his best friend.

You turned to look at your ex-boyfriend, who stood next to Yoongi stiffly. He looked in your direction every so often, but averted his gaze immediately. Yoongi, on the other hand, kept his gaze fixed on you the entire time you were looking at them. It kept causing your stomach to churn and your heart to flip. 

The sound of the elevator forced you to look away from both men. To your surprise, no one was inside it, which, on the one hand, was wonderful, as you wouldn't have to put up with the strong smell of expensive perfume and conversations between strangers that sounded too empty. But, on the other hand, you had to be alone with those other two.

You shook your head, trying to get that stupid thought out of your head, and entered the elevator followed by Yoongi and Jumyeon. You convinced yourself that the tense atmosphere was due to the news Yoongi gave you, but deep down you knew it wasn't so. 

You knew your ex like the palm of your hand, you knew when he was genuinely sad and when he was not. You were aware that he wasn't feeling depressed at all, but he was angry, probably at you and whoever had attacked his father. You tried to avoid the idea of him being that way with you.

You brought your thumb to your mouth, biting your nail. Jumyeon's gaze on you was starting to feel too stinging and the fear started to grow as your head generated worst case scenarios. You had such a good imagination when it came to going against you.

The brush of fingers on your right hand made you jump in place. You turned to see who it was, and almost cried with happiness when you noticed it was only Yoongi. He discreetly caressed the knuckles of your hand, completely avoiding looking at you. 

You had forgotten how good it felt to have someone who could read your body language so easily that just by looking at you or listening to you, he would understand that you were having a hard time. Yoongi was the only person you dated who could accomplish that. Maybe that was one of the reasons why you still weren't able to forget him.

You stopped biting your nail, concentrating on Yoongi's touch on your skin. It brought back so many memories. 

"We'll talk at home about earlier" Jumyeon murmured, glancing sideways at you, "I think you're still a little confused."

"I'm not" you replied on impulse, staring at him, were you afraid? Obviously, was that going to stop you from telling him to his face? Of course not. "I gave you my answer, now act like a man for the first time in your life and accept it" you growled under your breath, holding back the urge you had to spit in his face.

You listened as Yoongi cleared his throat, and you knew he was doing it to camouflage his laughter. You didn't care, you would have done the same thing in his place.

"Stop fucking around and just say yes" Jumyeon turned to look at you, and if looks killed, you'd be on the floor, bleeding out, dying, you'd be a ghost. 

"Why don't you shut up? Your voice is annoying, it makes my head hurt" Yoongi muttered, this time taking your hand firmly. 

You internally prayed that Jumyeon wouldn't see it, you didn't want any more trouble than you already had.

The rest of the time in the elevator was in silence. Being so many floors it took you a few minutes to get down. They were the worst minutes of your life.

"We'll go in my car" Yoongi looked at Jumyeon before exiting the elevator. Holding hands with you. In front of him.

You saw out of the corner of your eye how his face distorted at the sight of your hands together. You reminded yourself that you didn't owe him any explanation. You had done nothing wrong, so why should you justify yourself? You nodded mentally, trying to encourage yourself.

Yoongi took out his key and unlocked his car. It was big and black, too shiny. You smiled as you remembered Yoongi always talked about how, when he had money, he would buy a nice apartment and a black car that looked so amazing that any teenager at his age would want one like that.

He let go of you for a moment only to open the passenger door and help you in. You screamed internally.

Jumyeon got in after you, to the back seats obviously, and before Yoongi got in and could hear him he came up to your ear.

"Wait till we get home, you fucking hypocritical bitch" he growled under his breath, returning to his seat as soon as Yoongi entered.

You looked down at your hands, staring at the nail you bit earlier. You didn't do anything wrong, you're not like him, you repeated yourself over and over, trying to ignore the pressure in your chest.

You leaned your head against the car window, watching as he started to move and head for the exit of the parking lot. You just closed your eyes, wanting to get to the station later to give your statement and get as far away from that man as possible.

You wiped away an unruly tear that dared to fall down your cheeks. He's not worth it, you told yourself, not anymore.

Masterlist

#TheHanFamily #bts x reader #bts x you #fanfic #bts fanfic #yoongi fic #bts imagine #bts x fem!reader #bts x y/n #bts x oc #fiction #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi #yoongi #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x oc #suga x reader #suga x you #suga x y/n #bts fics #bts

[birdbrainedboy]

I’m obsessed with this show and fear a hyperfixation anyways here are my thoughts on every character in the show

Edwin Paine: forever my favorite, even back before the show when I read the comics! I think it’s funny that basically every man in the show wants him? I’m intrigued by his character arc throughout the story regarding his sexuality as despite dying in 1916, he seems to have had time to slowly become more accepting of gay people (I’m guessing in part due to Charles, who is pansexual), to the point where there’s only mild internalized homophobia if at all, which just exhibits itself in him denying any possible feelings for Monty. I love how face-value and logical he is while still being a sweetheart

Charles Rowland: he has a pan flag pin on his jacket which confuses me bc can ghosts only wear clothes they would’ve worn when they were alive, or how do ghost clothes work? Because he died in 1989 and I’m near positive he didn’t wear that pin back there. Anyways I do love him but I wonder about some design choices, like the one earring (not sure why it just kinda annoys me). That was more a rant abt his design than his character, which I have nothing notable to say abt since I LOVE HIM he’s so real

Crystal Palace: sometimes she was a bit annoying the way she was trying way too hard to pry into everyone’s lives, but honestly that was just momentary annoyance since nothing could make me hate her. I love how her past was slowly revealed (as someone who already knew it from the comics) and how she came to terms with the person she used to be vs the person she is now. She’s so cool!

David the demon: honestly kind of caught me off guard at first bc the person I’m dating is named David but I actually enjoyed his character. LOVED when Crystal dealt with him in the end. He was very interesting

Niko Sasaki: I love Niko, but I have some problems with her character. First of all, I feel like ditsy anime-loving cutesy Asian girl with dyed hair is a weirdly common trope? But whatever my main issue is that it feels like characters who normalize the fetishization of gay men are so common. Like if Niko had been a guy obsessed with lesbian manga evb would be weirded out, so why is it different? If we ignore all of this tho I absolutely adore her and I’m actually praying she’s in the next season bc she was one of my favorites (esp her relationship w Edwin)

Jenny: She is so hot and cool and funny I’m in love with her

Esther: oh my god words cannot come close to describing how much I love her character. She felt powerless and weak in the past and now she’s become obsessed with making sure nobody has that power over her ever again. She was so fun and I loved her attitude! I’m sure she won’t show up next season, as she was the main antagonist of s1, and while I love her, I kind of hope she doesn’t since I think her arc was finished.

Monty: His personality was like 2020 “soft boy” who acts nice and dumb but is lowkey a manipulator. So obviously this kind of made me like ☠️ bc why is he acting like that… but I still love him to bits because he’s just a crow guys he didn’t ask to be human,, Anyways yeah his personality annoys me but also I love him so much so? It’s confusing. ITS COMPLICATED. I will cry if he’s not in s2

Kingham and Litty: I honestly thought they were annoying but I can’t lie they were so fucking funny. Every time they were on screen I laughed.

Cat King: oh my god. He is so camp. I love him. There’s honestly not much to say he is simply iconic. Love how he’s afraid to be alone so chases after other people, he’s so real AGHH I love him

Night Nurse: Ruth Connell the woman you are… 😍 she reminds me of Muriel from Good Omens, in a way, and I love her! I really hope we get to see more of her in relation to the guy in the fish, and see her get to better understand human emotions and why they choose to cling onto the human world rather than pass on!

#dead boy detective agency #dead boy detectives #charles rowland #edwin payne #crystal palace surname von hoverkraft #crystal palace #niko sasaki #david the demon #neil gaiman #esther #monty crow #cat king #night nurse #good omens

[honeygrahambitch]

One for sorrow, two for joy

Plot: Will and Hannibal are having a difficult but very needed conversation the day before the birth of their surrogate child.

"Hello." Will said as he sat next to Hannibal on the porch of their house. The sun was casting its final rays before completely hiding before the mountains. "Just so you know, we are not the worst parents on earth because we don't have a name for our kid. I've read many stories where parents just knew exactly when they saw their baby for the first time. And that will be our case as well."

Hannibal had been out there sitting on his own for most of the day, which was exactly why Will had decided to join him with two glasses of white wine. Hannibal accepted his in silence. He didn't say anything to Will's encouraging words.

Will looked properly at his face only when he heard a sniff followed by a deep sigh, filled with sorrow.

He freaked out for a split second, seeing the tears run down his cheeks, knowing it was a rare sight.

"Do you know when we will be the worst parents?" Will asked, guiding Hannibal's head to rest on his shoulder. "When we won't like her first boyfriend. Or her second. Or third. Fuck it, none of them will be good enough. Or when we will say "no" when she will want to go to a promiscuous party. But I promise that when we meet her tomorrow, we will just know exactly what to call her."

Hannibal let out another sniff and Will could actually feel his tears on his shirt. "I thought I knew what name would be perfect for her." He said eventually.

"And I told you I'm down with calling her Mischa if that's what you feel." He replied softly as he let his own head rest on Hannibal's.

"After doing some self-reflection, I realized I don't want that for her. She shouldn't carry my regrets." He said, his gaze following a magpie trying to build a nest in the pine tree which was shading their house. "Every time I would look at her, I would think of my sister." Hannibal said as he let out a soft sob. "I want her to be her own person, not to grow up in the shade of someone else who already carries so much weight."

"What else is on your mind?" Will asked empathetically after a few seconds.

"During the last years I knew that if we had a daughter I would definitely name her Mischa. I figured I would do that only to give myself the delusion of having her next to me again." Hannibal said. "Or maybe I need some sort of closure that I won't get. Truth is, I need to let her go. It's been too long."

"You know, you don't have to let her go. She is not here but she is still your sister. And she will always be. You don't need a physical reminder to get your closure. And we will make sure our daughter knows about her."

Hannibal let out another sob as he buried his face in Will's shoulder.

"There are days when I feel haunted by my own regrets." Hannibal whispered. Will knew. He had learnt to read his every expression and gesture in time.

"I also feel haunted oftentimes. But then you say something stupid like "Will, have you missplaced the corkskrew again?" And all my ghosts are gone."

Hannibal laughed bitterly for the first time that evening.

"I'm sorry, your own nerves must be wrecked as well because of tomorrow." Hannibal said as he lifted his head off Will's shoulder and wiped his tears.

"Pretty wrecked. But seeing my husband weeping tears on the porch is a rare sight. Poetic in fact."

"I'm envious of you." Hannibal said, finally taking a sip from his glass. "You're managing your emotions better than I do."

"Am I? I woke up at 5 and took apart the washing machine piece by piece because yesterday it made a subtle but weird sound. By noon it was in one piece again. Then I reorganized my lures. Then I reorganized all your spices."

"Pardon?" Hannibal asked as he suddenly turned his head towards Will.

"I was surprised you haven't noticed me spending an unusual amount of time in the kitchen, sitting on the counter and labeling spices. Some of them I had no idea what they were so I drew a question mark instead."

"I..." Hannibal started but didn't know what to say, amused by Will's coping methods. "You didn't touch my suits, did you?"

"No, I am not a psychopath. I did want to organize your ties based on warm and color tones. But I decided I wanted to be alive by tomorrow."

Will clinked his glass against Hannibal's and this time, he was the one to rest his head on his shoulder.

"And we are supposed to raise a child." Hannibal said as a conclusion. "Sorry I avoided you the whole day. I was completely unaware you took the whole house apart. You must have had a lot on your mind."

"It's not like you were doing better. But this" Will said gesturing to where they were sitting"-is a lot better than labeling your spices."

"I agree."

The sun was completely gone, a purple shade coloring the horizon. The lonely magpie was soon joined by a second one, who was carrying some straws as well, probably helping with the nest.

#hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal nbc #hannibal series #hannibal fanfiction

[pinkbubbles06]

Rosekiller Headcanons Pt. 2

Part 1

These may be out of order or be repeating from pt 1 but it’s only cuz I got excited…

Annnyyyyywayyyyy…. HERE WE GO!!

* Barty would be that type of person to have a thought process along the lines of “Evan deserves someone better than [insert name of whoever Evan is currently dating here]. If it were me dating him, I’d treat him much better.”

* And then he would proceed to not think on that any harder.

* Every time Barty gets an angry owl from his dad, he gets so overwhelmed by anger to the point being called by their name makes him want to scream. So all his friends start calling him "idiot" "pretty boy" "raccoon" "dumbass" respectivly until he calms down.

* lets not get it twisted, evan was 100% crazier than barty.

* Before they got together Barty would beg Pandora to make flower crowns so he could give them to Evan. If the flower crowns were from anyone else Evan would burn them on the spot. But anything from Barty he cherished forever.

* The second barty would come bounding up the hill towards him in spring, flower crown in hand, Evan would smile gently as Barty placed it on his head with such pride and joy.

* After they got together, Barty made Panda teach him how to make them so he could do it himself.

* Evan spends half his time saying "shut the fuck up" to Barty because weird stupid shit always falls out of his mouth

* (and he does shut up 'cause that man is whipped)

* Barty always forgoes pockets for the sake of fashion, and so Evan’s pockets are always full of random things of Barty’s that Barty can’t carry in his hands

* Barty is a mommas boy ™️

* Barty was shorter than Evan for the longest time but in 3rd year he had a growth spurt in the summer and was towering over Evan when they say each other on the train.

* Barty would talk to his mother about everything and everything and he mostly spoke of Evan.

* Barty’s mom had a beautiful garden and Barty asked her if she could teach him to plant roses one summer.

* When Evan came over the next summer Barty was so proud to show him the roses he grew just for him.

* barty whose eyes are locked on Evan’s throat, he wants to leave his marks all over there, bite the soft and perfect looking skin, make it his home

* then he gets hit over the head by dorcas with a pan, and she tells him to be normal

* Barty always found it real hot when Evan gets pissed and bangs someone’s head into a wall until their blood is running down their face. He loved it when Evan was insane.

* (Evan is more crazy than Barty is. Period. You can’t convince me otherwise.)

* Regulus never understood why Evan and Barty were so deranged sometimes. He’s a good child.🥲

* evan's last thought before being hit by moody's bombarda was the way barty smiles between their kisses

* Barty would always absentmindedly play with Evan’s hair at all times

* Whenever they would go out in the winter, Evan you always tell Barty to bring a coat, even though he knows he will end up carrying it for Barty because coats make him feel trapped sometimes.

* He would just be like: "wear a jacket, it's cold out!”

* And Barty would be like: ”uggghhhhh fineeeee!!!”

* Barty always opened the door for Evan or pulled his seat out before he sat down

* Evan: did you eat today?🤨

Barty: yes….👀

Evan:

Barty:

Evan: eat something love.😘

Barty:

Barty: fine.😒

* Barty wants so bad to be Evan’s trophy wife lol

* After Barty proposed, he would daydream of the moment he first sees Evan at the altar. Like. He’s so in love guys.

* barty absolutely LOVES valentine’s day and uses it as an excuse to be as publicly sexual as possible, loudly flirtatious, and is wrapped around evan like a condom

* evan pretends to DESPISE valentine’s day, acting like he forgets about the occasion just to get on Barty’s nerves- dodging his attempts to flirt / touch, and makes a show to be as unromantic as possible. on the inside, he’s squealing and kicking his feet

* Even hated Barty at first they would argue sooooo much!!!

* But then Barty grew on him like he does with every one

* Evan loves making Barty cry during sex. Especially if he is overstimulated.

* Evan loooovvvveeeessss overstimulating Barty during sex. (Barty loves it too btw lol)

* Ives said it before and I will say it again because it need to be a thing. EVAN IS NOT NOT TIMID AND HESITANT!!!! HE IS A PHYCO!!!! HE IS WORSE THAN BARTY GUYS!!! LIKE COME ON!!!!! IK I SAID THAT THE FIST TIMEHE AND BARTY DANCED HE WAS INSECURE BUT THEY WERE REALLY YOUNG AROUND THAT TIME!!! LIKE 14!!! (At least in my head…) AFTER THAT INE TOME HE WAS SOOOOO CONFIDENT!!!

* (sorry for yelling lol)

* Any way….

* if you don’t think regulus had a little sign with the amount of times barty got pushed off the beds for being a little shit ur so wrong

* Barty‘s mother had a huge family estate in the countryside that Barty’s mother and he would go and live in during the summer. it’s also where her garden is. Barty would drag Evan along every time

* Barty’s dad lived in the city because of his job…

* They announced their relationship on April Fools and were both laughing their ass off watching Hogwarts try to figure out if they were actually dating or not.

* Evan is really shitty about being woken up. like if he falls asleep on the couch just leave him there, don’t wake him up to try and get him to go to bed because he will bite your head off. When Barty finds him on the couch in the common room he will settle down and cuddle up next to him and read a book. Or take a nap with him lol. Depends

#barty crouch jr #rosekiller #evan rosier #barty crouch junior #marauders #harry potter #marauders era #barty jr #regulus black #james potter

[clementine-writes-things]

"Run Rabbit, Run!" pt.2 - E.N

Summary: After getting sent to Arkham, Edward requests to see Y/n Wayne. The visit is not what y/n expected at all...(this might not be entirely consistent with the first part, but just ignore those parts pls. I have exams soon so I'm balancing writing and college and running on like 5 hours of sleep each day 😭 I'm still rlly proud of this tho <3 I hope u like it)

Pt.1 here pt.3 here

Content Warning: 18+, explicit language, AFAB!Reader, she/her pronouns, egotistical!Edward, stalker!Edward, yandere!Edward, brief mention of suicide, mentions of rough sex, EXTREMELY graphic descriptions of sexual intercourse, sexual content, dirty talk, daddy issues, daddy kink, praising, degrading, choking, slapping, edward referring to himself as a fox and y/n a rabbit, mentions of blood, mentions of murder, mentions of guns, mentions of torture. (Edward is a freak in this. This is kinda like joker/harley dynamic except there is no abuse, it's just that Edward is so fucking charming that y/n is OBSESSED with him.)

Word Count: 7k+

Songs For Inspo:

YOU'RE TOO SLOW (Bonus) - Odetari

Freak Show - Punkinloveee, h3artcrush

I LOVE YOU HOE (W/ 9lives) -Odetari

She' So Nice - Pink Guy

Custer - Slipknot

~Read Below Cut~

Y/n sat on her bed, head in her hands as she wept. Bruce put a hand on her back, rubbing comforting circles. It was a huge blow to her gut. She had fallen in love with Edward over the months they had been friends. The two of them had gotten so close. And now, she had found out that he was The Riddler. The real humiliating part? It was right under her nose. Though she had suspicions, she never wanted to believe them, so she ignored every red flag she saw.

"I'm really sorry." Bruce said.

"Bruce, is it bad that I still care about him?" She asked, tears forming in her eyes.

He sighed.

"No, I don't think so. He was your friend."

She nodded, wiping away the tears that spilled down her cheeks. Bruce frowned, pulling her in for a hug. After the whole incident happened, Bruce immediately went to y/n's apartment, outside of his armor of course. He knew she lived nearby and he wanted to make sure his sister was ok. Y/n had told him about the man she met in a bookstore, and from what she had shared with him, he was a good person. But, he should know better than anyone how easily one can hide their true self.

"I'm surprised he didn't try and hurt you. You're a Wayne and it seems like he has a grudge against our family."

"He has every right to hold a grudge against us!"

Bruce pulled away from the hug, confusion on his face. Y/n sighed, standing up and going to her nightstand. She opened it up and pulled out a file. Tossing it to Bruce, she crossed her arms over her chest. Inside was pictures of the old orphanage that was once Wayne Manor. Pictures of the living conditions, children, and even Edward were in there. Y/n had done some serious digging to get this information, though, it was easy if you were a Wayne of course.

"He lived in the orphanage, Bruce. His entire life. Our dad offered him a better life, told him that he could work for W.I."

"He did?" He asked, looking through the pictures.

"Yes, he did. Edward, he applied so many times to the Renewal project. But...dad and mom..." She trailed.

Bruce looked up at her, feeling his heart sink.

"...well, you and I were too young to take charge of anything. So, he was left to rot in that prison. He told me about the things he experienced there, Bruce. It haunts me that Wayne Enterprises let children suffer. We could have easily helped those poor children." She sniffled, holding back tears.

"Jesus."

"You think we're sad orphans, Bruce? Look at those pictures. Look at how they lived..."

He did. He saw all of it. The rats. The horrible beds that they had to sleep in, if they even could. Bruce felt cold just looking at the pictures. He winced as he saw one picture of a child, bite marks on their hands and fingers.

"When I was older, I found out about this. That's why I live out here, Bruce. I want to live like everyone else does. I donate to the orphanages, I do check ups to make sure everything is good, I donate to hospitals, I do volunteering. But, it was Edward who showed me how truly terrible this city is. Yes, he murdered people...but they were bad people Bruce. You know this. That's why he didn't go after me..."

"It sounds like you're defending his actions..." He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not! I'm just...he's not a bad person, Bruce. Sick in the head, sure. I'm just worried about him..." She mumbled.

"Y/n, he murdered people."

"And you go around beating people up in a bat costume! Maybe you belong in Arkham too." She spat.

"I don't kill people."

"Well, maybe if you did this city would be safer!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I-..I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm just shaken up. Frankly, I could give a shit about the people he killed, they were all scum. I'm just worried about Edward."

"Well, he's in Arkham, he's safe there. He can't hurt anyone and he can't hurt himself."

"I guess...not the most humane place though."

Y/n's phone rang, making both of them fall silent. Who could be calling this late at night? It had been an hour since Edward was apprehended, making it 1 A.M. She looked at Bruce before answering the phone.

"This is Y/n Wayne, who is this?"

'Ms. Wayne, this is Cap-...Commissioner Gordon.'

"Commissioner Gordon! Um, what's the matter?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

'It's 'The Riddler'. He's asked to see you in Arkham.'

"Oh, um...ok, I'll be there."

Y/n hung up the phone.

"It's Edward. He's requested to see me..."

"And you're going?" He asked.

"Well, of course I am. I need an explanation, some closure. He's still my friend, Bruce."

He sighed.

"I'm surprised he hasn't asked to see me. He seemed so obsessed with gaining my attention. Um, you're not going to tell him that I'm..."

"No, Bruce. I'm not an idiot. Can you drive me to Arkham, please? It'd be nice to have you there."

"Yeah, that's ok..."

~

When the Wayne siblings arrived, everyone practically worshipped them. Offering to open doors, constantly saying 'Ms. Wayne' and 'Mr. Wayne'. It annoyed the both of them a lot, though Bruce was the one who could hide the annoyance. Y/n, however, could not. Yes, she loved her family, but she didn't want to be seen as simply 'the Wayne daughter'. It put her on a high pedestal that she hated being on.

"Fuck, there he is." She mumbled, looking at him through the one way window.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes. Um, I know there is camera in the room, but do they pick up audio too? I'd prefer for our conversation to be private."

Bruce looked at the security officer.

"Oh, um, no ma'am they do not pick up sound. They only serve as surveillance to make sure an inmate doesn't try and do something they shouldn't. Sometimes we hold therapy sessions in here too, so, legally we can't record sound."

"Ok, thank you. Alright, I'm going in."

"I love you, little sis."

"I love you too, big brother."

Y/n took a deep breath as she opened the door. Edward's gaze landed on her immediately, causing her to feel small. Yes, y/n had always been slightly intimidated by Edward, but even more so now. He did not look like a person who was capable of violence, and yet he murdered multiple people. It was startling. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she sat down in the chair on the other side of the glass.

"Mmm, I knew you'd come..." He hummed.

"You're still my friend, Edward. I care about you."

He chuckled, deciding he'd circle back to that topic later. Tilting his head to the side, he raised his hands up slowly so the guard didn't get jumpy. Edward pointed at the thing in their hands.

"What's that?" He asked.

Y/n opened up the slot underneath the glass. She slid the item into the box, closing the lid. It fell to Edward's side, and he picked it up. A small smile formed on his lips. It was y/n's copy of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'. Y/n watched as he flipped through the pages, immediately feeling himself grow warm with happiness.

"I was going to bring you a blanket, but they said that it was a safety hazard. They said you could hang yourself with it." She grumbled.

"Well, this is still a nice present."

It fell silent in the visiting room. The only sound was the flipping of the pages as Edward skimmed through the book. He looked so nonchalant, as if he didn't just snipe Falcone less than 2 hours ago. Though, to be fair, his death wasn't that distressing. Y/n was just startled by how calm he was, especially with where he was.

"Edward, why did you call me here?"

"Hm, I'm not entirely sure...I suppose I just wanted to see my 'friend' again." He smiled innocently.

Y/n huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Edward smirked, humming to himself like he usually did. His fingers rapped against the book, creating small tap sounds. Eventually, y/n just rolled her eyes.

"Look, if you aren't going to talk to me then I'll just go."

"Oh, you will? Ok then, go ahead."

Y/n looked at him, cheeks tinted slightly pink. He had that smug grin on his face, y/n had seen it a lot. Edward had that look when he won a game they were playing or if he stumped y/n on a riddle. But, this time it was more sinister. It sent chills down her spine and she stayed put in the chair. Edward chuckled, nodding his head slowly. He didn't have to say anything, they both knew he called her out on her bluff. Sighing, he looked at her with kind eyes, but his tone of voice was the complete opposite. He was so good at pretending to be something he was not.

"Y/n Wayne, you knew who I was for a while. Why didn't you say anything?" He questioned.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about, Edward."

"Hm, so you never saw the mask in my pocket that one night? You never saw the tiny dots of blood on my face ? The riddles never raised a red flag?" He asked, continuing to flip through the book.

Y/n was silent, looking down at her hands shamefully. Edward tutted, shaking his head. Coolly, he read a small part of the page he was on before looking back up at y/n. She nodded, admitting that she saw them all.

"Uh huh, so why didn't you say anything? I'm dying to know the answer..."

"I-It was because you were my...friend, Edward. I was conflicted."

He kept his face neutral as he looked at her.

"Mmm, there's that word again. Friend. I know you're lying about your answer, so I'll make a deal with you. I'll tell you a secret I've been keeping for a while, and you in return will give me an honest answer. Sound fair?" He asked.

Before she could answer, he started to talk again.

"I've been stalking you for months, y/n. Long before I 'met' you in that bookstore. Did you know that?" He giggled.

"What?"

"Did you really think I just happened to show up in your favorite bookstore? That I just happened to live directly across from you? I know everything about you, y/n. I've been watching you. Studying you. Like a predator stalks their prey."

"You're fucking with me, Edward. That's not funny." She scolded.

"Oh, I don't think it's funny either. I'm being very serious, y/n. Now, why don't you tell me the truth about why you never ratted me out?"

"What the fuck..." She mumbled.

"Well? I'm waiting for an answer."

She was taken aback by his secret, but it made sense the more she thought about it. Of course he had stalked her. She was just too fucking stupid to see it. The thought of Edward stalking her for months before they met scared the shit out of her. But, at the same time, it excited her.

"Y-You're a creep! I trusted you! I lov-..." She trailed.

"Aha, there's the answer I was looking for! Go on, say it." He cackled.

She sighed, looking at her hands again.

"I loved you, Edward. That's why I never said anything."

"Loved? Oh no, you still love me y/n. I know you do. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here."

"I do not love you! You're a psycho, a creep, and a murderer!" She spat.

"You knew all of those things before, yet you still were 'friends' with me. Isn't that right?" Edward smirked.

"W-"

"And don't act like you hate the idea of me stalking you. I know who you are, y/n. You're so easy to read."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about..."

Edward sighed in annoyance, propping his forearms up on the metal ledge. He maintained his neutral facial expression as he looked at her. Y/n felt small under his gaze and he knew it. He knew he had power over her. He always would.

"Tell me, doesn't the thought of me watching you from my apartment excite you? Waiting all night for even the tiniest glimpse of you? I know how much you crave attention from others." Edward suavely said.

"I-I mean..."

"Oh, precious Y/n never got the attention she so desperately wanted growing up. No mommy and daddy to tell her 'I'm so proud of you, sweet girl!'. Isn't that right, rabbit?" He cooed.

Y/n felt a chill go down her spine. He was right. Fuck, he was good at reading people. Sniffling, y/n nodded her head. How the hell was he doing this to her?

"Oh, the poor thing. You have such a kind heart, always giving and giving and giving. When has anyone ever given you anything in return? When was the last time someone praised you?" He asked.

Y/n reached up, wiping a tear from her eye quickly.

"S-So long..."

"That just won't do, will it? No, I don't think it will."

She looked at him, lips quivering.

"You know who is proud of you? Eddie."

He watched as she smiled softly. Edward loved seeing her smile so much. If he could just capture a picture of it and keep it, he was sure he would never feel sadness ever again.

"Y-You are?" She sniffled.

"Of course I am, sweetheart. You make me so proud. There are so many things you're good at that deserve praise. Your art, your constant donations to charity, your kind heart, my oh my the list goes on!" He chuckled.

Y/n was blushing like a school girl. To be completely honest, she didn't care that Edward had stalked her. Sure, it was a little jarring, but he was the first person to show her genuine love in a long time. Y/n was head over heels for him and there was nothing she could do about it. The heart wants what it wants after all.

"Oh, there's that beautiful smile. Such a pretty girl. But, y/n, I do have one thing I'm not proud of at all."

"W-What dad-...Edward?"

He smiled to himself at her near 'slip up'. If she had called him it, he wouldn't have minded at all. Actually, he would have loved it...

"You see, you lie to me a lot. You think I never notice, but I do."

"I-I'm sorry..."

"Do not apologize, y/n. All will be forgiven if you just tell me the truth about one thing."

"O-Ok!"

"That's my girl, now, the 'bad dream' you had earlier. I believe you didn't tell me the full story. Why don't you tell Eddie alllll about it?" He grinned.

"O-Oh...um, I-..." She trailed.

"You can tell me anything, rabbit. I'll keep it as a secret."

Swallowing a lump in her throat, she nodded softly. Edward kept his gaze on her. It was a good thing that the cameras didn't record audio, because he knew what was coming. Yes, he already knew what the dream centered around, but he wanted to hear her say it. He wanted to hear the filthy words leave her mouth.

"W-Well, I was honest about dreaming that you were the Riddler..."

"And you were right! You're so smart." He praised.

Y/n should have felt disgusted at how light hearted he was, but she wasn't. It was upsetting how in love she was with him. She was y/n Wayne and she was in love with The Riddler. But, the shame behind that brought excitement. It was a secret between the two of them, a forbidden love. Just like Romeo & Juliet.

"...but you um, you were frightening. A-And, I um...liked it." She mumbled.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Can you elaborate?"

"I th-thought it was hot...that you um, were making me scared. Um, you were being really um...rough." She stuttered.

Edward felt his dick slowly getting hard. He cursed the glass in his head and the cameras. If he could he'd reach right across and give y/n something to dream about for years to come. Groaning softly, he nodded his head. He wasn't going to be vague anymore. He was going to be blunt.

"Did I fuck you?"

"I-..no. I w-woke up before anything like that happened." She admitted.

"Mmm, so you got all worked up over a dream I didn't even fuck you in? You must have really loved what I was saying and doing in it, huh?" He teased.

"Yeah. I-I did."

"You say we're friends, y/n. But, do friends say they love each other in a romantic way? Do friends have wet dreams about each other?" He asked.

"N-No, they don't..."

"That's right. Mmm, I've had dreams of you too, rabbit. Filthy, filthy, dreams." Edward shivered.

Y/n shifted in her seat, arousal soaking through her panties. Edward could tell she was turned on. She couldn't keep still, thighs subtly rubbing together. He tutted and shook his head.

"Now, now, you better stop that. You don't want to get caught, do you? How embarrassing would that be to have your brother find out that The Riddler was making your pussy wet? I'd be mortified if I were you." He taunted.

She whimpered, ceasing the movement of her legs. Edward could see how much willpower it was taking her not to do it. Amused, he smiled and tilted his head. He was going to torment her, tease her until she was merely a puddle on the chair.

"Ever since I first saw you, I was fascinated. That fascination turned into love. And with most love, comes lust. And oh, my sweet rabbit, I have never wanted someone as badly as I want you."

"R-Really?"

"Believe me when I say that I want to ruin you, y/n."

Y/n whined, resisting the urge to dive her hands down her pants. Edward scoffed, resting his hands back in his lap. He grabbed his dick through his pants, adjusting it.

"I have much more to say, y/n. I suggest you do your best to keep your face neutral. But you can moan, just quietly. I would very much love to hear you moan. I've wondered what it might sound like."

She nodded, gaining her composure as much as she could. Sighing, Edward looked towards the ceiling. It looked as if he was collecting his thoughts. Y/n nearly trembled in anticipation.

"I've had so many dreams of you. Some of them are sweet. Those ones consist of us going on dates, maybe a park or a movie." He said.

"That sounds nice."

"It does, doesn't it?" He smiled.

"But the other ones, ohhh, they are filthy. They are so vulgar that I'm not sure I should let them fall upon your ears." He hummed playfully.

"N-No, I want to hear! Please daddy!" She blurted out, covering her mouth with her hand.

He smiled gently, his dick twitching underneath his pants. A soft groan left his lips. Edward was wishing a painful death the the guard watching their visit. He wished for the cameras to power down and for the glass to disappear.

"You sound just like you do in my dreams. I can't say no to how pathetic that sounded."

Y/n blushed, rubbing her thigh with her hand. It was out of view of the cameras and the window, so Edward allowed it.

"I've had dreams where you're on your knees, begging for me. You always look so desperate and needy every time. It's such a pitiful sight that I can't help but give you what you want. Do you know what you want in those dreams?" He asked flatly.

"W-What, da-" She paused.

"Oh rabbit, you can call me that if you'd like. It sounds so good rolling of your tongue..." Edward smirked.

"Ok, daddy...um, what do I want in your dreams?"

Leaning forward, he got closer to the glass. A cocky, toothy smile plastered over his face. His eyes were bright and happy, as if he was about to tell her a funny joke. Raising up his hands, slowly, he made a very subtle 'jerking' motion.

"To get fucked like a whore, obviously." He laughed.

Y/n whimpered. Her chest was tightening from how aroused she was. She took a deep breath, letting it out through pursed lips. Edward grinned, seeing how worked up he was making her.

"Oh, but you're not a whore. No, far from it. In my dreams I may fuck you like one, but you don't act like one. Once I'm done giving you a good dick down, you get so clingy. You're so dependent on me, never wanting to leave my side. It's so precious. I only hope that you're like that outside of my dreams too." He cooed.

"Y-Yes, I am! I-I'm here, after all. I missed you..."

"Oh, that's so sweet. I shoot and kill Carmine Falcone and the first thing you think of is 'I want Edward! Where's Eddie? I miss him so much!'. Is that right?"

"Well, not exactly."

"Hm?"

"I cried first..."

Edward felt a pang in his chest. It genuinely hurt his heart to hear her say that. He never wanted to make her cry, unless it was from pleasure.

"You poor thing, I never though about how you'd feel. I never wanted to make you cry, I just wanted to get rid of the scum that pollutes Gotham." He frowned.

"I know, I may not agree with the murdering...but I'm not saying I miss Falcone either. It just scared me. I was just worried about what would happen to you..."

"You were worried about me, rabbit? You don't need to do that. I can take care of myself, y/n." He smiled.

She nodded. Edward could tell that she felt sad. He did not want her to be sad, not at all.

"You know I love you, y/n. Right?" He asked.

"Y-Yes, I do."

"I did it all for you. I had different plans for Gotham before. I was going to do something far worse, but you made me change my mind. I just want you to live in a city where you can be safe."

Y/n smiled. It was a messed up way to show he loved and cared for her, but she hadn't been loved before. She didn't care anymore, she just was warmed that he wanted her to be safe. Even if he did it through murdering crooked and corrupt people. She blushed, looking down at her hands.

"No, no, don't hide your face. I want to see it." He asked softly.

She looked back up, faint pink dusted on the tip of her nose and her cheeks. Edward loved that about her so much. He thought it made her look so happy and gentle. He chuckled, clapping his hands together as much as he could with the handcuffs on.

"There she is, the prettiest thing in Gotham." He smiled.

"You're making me blush, Edward..." She mumbled.

"I know and I love it. I love watching you get flustered, it's so precious. If only I could touch you..." He sighed.

"Why do you want to touch me?" She asked.

"Well, I want to hold you and kiss you, y/n. That the first thing I want to do." Edward hummed.

"First? Wh-what are the other things?"

"The things I dream of, rabbit." He grinned.

"Tell me more about the dreams!" Y/n said.

He tutted, wagging his finger back and forth. Eyes were squinted as he disapprovingly frowned. He rested his forearms back on the metal ledge, smiling cockily.

"Now, that sounded like a demand. You aren't telling me to do something without asking nicely, are you?"

"N-No, I'm sorry! P-Please, tell me more Eddie." She corrected herself.

"That sounds much better."

He looked her up and down, sighing happily.

"Tell you more, hm? But there are so many dreams, so many fantasies. Though, one thing stays the same in every single one." Edward stated.

"What is that?" Y/n asked curiously.

He planted his hands on the cold surface, leaning towards the glass. His face turned into a very sadistic and comical expression. Dramatically, he emphasized his words.

"You take my dick like a fucking champ..." He smirked.

Y/n moaned, letting out a breathy sigh. Edward stayed in his close position, not finished with what he was saying.

"I'd fuck you so perfectly that nobody else's dick could even make you feel a fraction as good. But before I'd do that, I'd make sure you're on the brink of tears in desperation. You don't get dicked unless I believe you've earned it. I'd want you on your knees, begging, whimpering, groveling at my feet in hopes that I'll fuck your needy pussy." He chuckled.

Y/n's mouth was slightly agape, startled by how blunt he was. He looked like such a shy person, yet he was a total freak. Again, he was so good at pretending to be someone he was not. Everything he was saying seemed so out of character for him, but in reality, it was his true self. Y/n was just the only one who could bring that side out of him. Edward groaned, pointing at her mouth. He seemed irritated or frustrated, either one really.

"That pretty mouth, it's practically asking me to fuck it. Those lips look so plump and soft. Oh rabbit, open up, let me see your tongue." He asked, on the verge of pleading.

She hesitated slightly, but did as he said. Of course she did. No matter what, she would listen to and do what he said. She was his property, and they both knew it. None of them had to even say it. It was obvious that y/n was Edward's girl. Titles weren't necessary. She was simply his, as much as he was hers. Y/n let her tongue roll out and let Edward look at it for a bit. She did it in a way so that the cameras didn't see, and if they did, it just looked like she was yawning in a way. He covered his mouth with his fingers, doing his best to not jerk off at the brief sight of her tongue.

"Ffffuu...it's a blessing that I can't touch you. Your throat would be raw after I finish with you..." He groaned.

Y/n whined, spreading her legs open subtly. Edward looked down, seeing the obvious damp spot over her pelvic region. His tongue darted out and swiped over his lips. Her eyes were silently screaming 'Please, I want you!' and he loved it. Once again, he cursed the glass between them. He just wanted to devour her, taste her, eat her alive like a fox eats a rabbit. She probably tasted so sweet...

"I wish you could see how you look right now. It's so pitiful. You look like you want to be fucked so bad. Do you want to be fucked?" He groaned.

"Y-Yes, I need it daddy..." She shivered.

"Need? You desperate thing, tell me why you need to get fucked by me."

"B-Because I'm so w-wet...it aches..." Y/n whined.

"Poor rabbit, if he could daddy would bend you over and fuck you against this glass." He said flatly.

Y/n moaned softly, making Edward grip his pants. The sound was nearly enough to make him bust all over the hospital uniform. Not wanting to draw attention, Edward looked at the book again. He pretended to read it.

"You said you dreamt I was rough with you, yet I didn't even fuck you? Well, I can promise you that I'd never hurt you with your permission, I want you to know that. I love you too much to do that to you. I believe that trust and safety is important when doing things like that. So, do you trust me, y/n?" He asked, looking up from the book.

"Y-Yes."

"You believe I'll keep you safe?"

"Yes, I do."

"And you'd tell me if you were uncomfortable, yes?"

"Of course."

Edward looked back down at the book, once again pretending to read it. He was such an actor. It was almost sinful how easily he could hide his lust and vulgarity.

"So, if I shoved your face into your bed with my hand wrapped around your neck, would you like that? Would you like it if I made you choke and gasp for air?" He hummed.

"Fuck...y-yes..."

"Do you want me to pull your hair and skull fuck you until you're crying on my dick? I bet your gags sound so vulgar and erotic." He asked nonchalantly.

"E-Edward, please..."

He held up the book and slumped into the chair. Edward looked like this was the most boring conversation he had ever had in his life. His eyes lazily ran over the words in the book, y/n was half convinced he was actually reading it while he spoke those filthy words to her.

"I bet you'd like to get slapped too. Not too hard, of course. I wouldn't want to bruise that pretty little face. But, firm enough the make sure you don't step out of line. You seem like you love to be put in your place." He yawned.

"E-Edward, I don't know if I can handle this anymore..."

"That's too bad, you wanted to hear all of this, right? Now you need to sit and listen."

"F-Fuck..."

"You're filthy, rabbit. Letting a criminal and a murderer make your pussy wet."

"I-I know."

"That's good that you know. You're self-aware about how dirty you are. You must want dick terribly bad if you've resorted to someone like me."

"N-No, I l-love you!"

"Hmm, that's right. That doesn't make it any better though, rabbit. In fact, it makes it worse. Not only do you want to get dicked down by me, but you love me. For shame."

"B-But..."

"Oh, don't worry sweetheart. I'm not angry with you. I think it's lovely that you feel that way towards me, I feel the same to you. But, we better make sure no one else knows about this. Hm?"

"Mhm!"

Edward placed the book down, looking at y/n.

"Mmm, I wish I could just fuck the soul out of you. I want to make you writhe and squirm. I just know you'd feel so good around my dick."

She moaned a little louder, biting down on her tongue. Edward chuckled, leaning against the metal ledge again.

"You, rabbit, are going to scream my name." He smiled.

"Th-that's big talk f-from someone in A-Arkham." She stuttered.

Edward raised an eyebrow.

"Are you getting smart with me?"

"N-No...I was j-just..."

"No. I know what you were doing and I'm not amused. You don't think I'll find my way out of here? I will. And when I do, I'm coming for you."

Y/n blushed.

"When I get out of here, I'll be sure to rearrange those pathetic guts of yours. I'm all bark and bite."

"You can't even touch me, Edward. It sounds like a bunch of talk to me..." She huffed, getting annoyed with his cocky behavior.

"You want me to break the glass and fuck you right here? I could care less about being watched but I sincerely doubt you want the guards to see you get fucked stupid by me. Don't play with me." He spat.

"I'm n-not trying to play with you, daddy..." Y/n mumbled softly, looking down at her hands.

"Yes you are. You're mocking me and yet you sit before me, wet, pathetic, and needy. Isn't that right, rabbit?"

She nodded.

"You want me to protect you, hold you, love you, yes?" He smirked.

"Y-Yes..."

"My, my, you have terrible daddy issues, don't you? Hm. But, if you want that so bad, then why are you playing with me? Mocking me? Do you think I appreciate that? Do you think it makes me proud?" He scolded.

"No I don't, daddy." Y/n sniffled.

"Mhm, it was so rude of you to talk to me like that. Do you want to hurt daddy's feelings?" He frowned.

He was such a serpent. Oh, but he was so lovely, too. Y/n couldn't help it. It was as if she bit the apple from the tree of good and evil. Except, the serpent held the apple in his mouth after, taunting her as she begged for more. Edward was waving what she wanted in her face, just out of her reach. And he knew it. He was so sick that it was hypnotic. So dangerous yet so kind looking, a wolf in sheep's clothing. Y/n was getting too close to him, but she didn't care if she got bit.

"N-No! I don't want to!" She whined.

"Then what do we say when we hurt someone's feelings?" He hummed, cupping a hand over his ear.

Y/n swallowed a lump in her throat, practically choking on her desire. She placed her hands on the ledge, bottom lip quivering as she looked at Edward. He felt his heart skip a beat as he saw slight tears prick in her eyes. She looked so pretty when she cried, as demented as that sounded. A single tear trickled down her cheek before she wiped it away with her finger.

"M' sorry, daddy..." Y/n sighed.

"Oh, say it again, rabbit." Edward grinned.

She looked at him, blushing heavily. He raised and eyebrow, giving a sleazy smile. Y/n looked at the floor, feeling slightly humiliated. Why? She truly did not know. Maybe it was the way he was talking to her. He was so good at making her feel small.

"I-I'm sorry, daddy." She mumbled.

"An apology has never sounded so sweet..." He hummed.

Y/n figeted with her hands.

"You're just lucky I'm not able to get closer to you, rabbit. You'd be giving me more than just an apology." Edward stated flatly.

She whined, trying to picture what he was hinting at in her head. But, when she did that, she felt herself getting more turned on. That was the last thing she needed.

"I'd give you something too, but I don't know if you'd be able to handle it..." He laughed softly.

Oh, he was so demented. But, it was so hot to her. Y/n should not be so worked up over a murderer talking pure smut to her. Yet, she was. Her core ached and throbbed, pleading for her fingers, Edward's fingers, his dick, mouth, anything. She needed to be touched so bad. It was driving her crazy. She squeezed her thighs together, doing her best not to rub them together.

"That's it, back to being timid. You know you aren't the one in control here, y/n. I may be in chains in this hellhole, but don't think for one second that it makes me weak. I haven't touched you and yet I have you soaking wet, desperate to pleasure yourself while 2 cameras are pointed at you. I have you whimpering, whining, moaning, and begging for something that I can't even give you. Does that sound like someone with no power over you? No hold over you?"

"No, Edward. I-It doesn't."

"Exactly. And you love it."

She nodded and whined.

"I've got you eating out of the palm of my hand, y/n. Just like a rabbit. I wonder, if I give you a carrot, will you jump for me?" He snickered.

"I'm not a pet!" She spat.

"Then why are you so obedient to me? Why are you so dependent on me?" Edward asked, shrugging his shoulders.

"I-..."

He leaned forward, propping his elbows up. Looking at y/n, he spoke in a low tone.

"Admit it, I own you! My name is practically branded on your chest. If only...no, I don't want to scar that pretty skin of yours. But, maybe, I could just mark you...yes. Would you like that? My teeth digging into your neck? I swear I'll try to be gentle, but I'm afraid you might taste too good to be able to restrain myself...I bet your flesh and blood tastes like sugar..."

Y/n was shocked, completely thrown off by his sadistic words. Yes, she was trembling in fear. It was so disturbing to hear him talk about how he wanted to mark her, break the skin on her neck. But, yet again, y/n found herself drawn to him. It was sick, twisted, and vile. And her pussy throbbed.

"I-, b-but it'll hurt..." She whimpered.

"Well, I said I'd do my best to be gentle. All you have to do is tell me to stop! Though I so badly want to...rip you apart...I would never want to make you upset or uncomfortable, sweet rabbit." He smiled sadistically.

Y/n panted, feeling arousal seep onto her inner thighs. She felt so dirty...

"I already know the second you get home, you're going to play with yourself while thinking about me. Thinking about the things I could do to you. Thinking about how I could just..."

Edward banged his fists subtly on the table, maintaining a consistent rhythm. He kept eye contact the whole time, lips curling up into a sickly smile. He was a cocky little shit. He knew exactly what he was doing to her and he thrived in the actions he did. The sound of his fists banging rang in her ears and made her throb. Edward sped up the pace, watching as y/n's eyes closed, no doubt imagining the feeling and how it would look. Abruptly, he stopped, practically edging her in a way.

"...destroy you. Break you. Please you. Torture you." He smirked.

"E-Edward, you're a dick! You're tormenting me!" She cried softly.

"Yes I am, took you fucking long enough. I thought you were smart?" He mocked.

She shuddered, his cold gaze freezing her blood.

"It's a game to me, y/n. Yes, I love you, but I love making you crave me too. And you make it so easy..."

A knock on the glass startled y/n, making her turn around. It was most likely Bruce telling her that the visit was going on too long. She sighed, looking back to Edward. Y/n was upset, not wanting to leave, despite how torturous he was being to her. He too looked upset, his plaything was about to leave. His plaything. His. He'd have to make the last minute count. He lured the prey into security, and it was genuine security. But now, it was time for the mind games. It was time for him to strike fear and paranoia into her heart. He wanted to be in her mind for a long time to come.

"You said you loved how I intimidated and scared you in your dream, yes?" He asked.

"Yeah?"

"You'll never know when I get out of Arkham. Not until it hits the newspapers."

Y/n looked at him, unsure of what he was getting at.

"I wonder how long you'll be paranoid? How many times will you watch a dark corner, wondering if I'll walk out of it? How many times will you sleep with one eye open? How many times will you watch behind your back as you walk down the streets? I am still a criminal, after all." He smirked devilishly.

Y/n's eyes widened, feeling her skin turn to ice. It was then that she realized he truly was sick. But, why did she still love him? Oh, how conflicting a forbidden love must be. To want someone that should not be wanted. To seek approval from someone one should never seek approval from. His pupils looked dilated, staring deep into her soul. She felt exposed and violated just from his gaze. And she loved it...

"Lord, what fools these mortals be!" He shouted.

She shivered, standing up slowly from the chair. Edward picked up the book again, flipping to a certain page. He had memorized the entire book, as he had already read his own copy he bought at the bookstore. But, being Edward, he wanted to be theatric as he read quotes. He looked at y/n in the eyes, standing up abruptly, no doubt startling the guard, Bruce, and y/n herself. He placed his hands against the glass, a breathy laugh leaving his lips.

"I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell..." He trailed.

Her pussy throbbed once again, thinking back to when they were in the bookstore. She had told Edward that she would never accept anyone's love unless they confessed or expressed it through Shakespeare. And, he was doing exactly that, Although, he was doing it in Edward fashion. Ominous, eerie, and disturbing.

"...to die upon the hand I love so well." She finished.

The door opened up and Bruce came in, grabbing y/n by the hand. Edward laughed hysterically, pacing back and forth behind the glass. His eyes were crazed behind his glasses as he kept his gaze on y/n the entire time. Y/n could tell that he was being dramatic, just wanting to get a rise out of everyone.

"Thus I die. Thus, thus, thus. Now I am dead, now I am fled, my soul is in the sky. Tongue, lose thy light. Moon take thy flight..." He paused, slowly walking back to the glass.

"...Now die, die, die, die!" He cackled.

He watched as Bruce dragged y/n out of the room. She looked back at him, still worked up from their 'discussion'. Edward blew a kiss to her, further making the scene more demented. Y/n attempted to reach up and grab it, but wanted to be discreet, so instead she smiled at him. It was odd though, as she was still terrified of his tangent that he went on. The sight of him laughing and quoting Shakespeare was not something she thought she would ever be scared of, but it was. But before she left, she heard him say one last thing. It sent chills down her spine.

"Run rabbit, run! For I linger in the shadows and you will never know when I might pounce..."

~

#writers #fanfic writer #writers of tumblr #fanfic #the riddler #paul dano #dc universe #edward nashton #paul dano riddler #danonation #dano riddler #batman 2022 #danocel #danonator

[tac-the-unseen]

What the Lost boys think about vampire related media

Fluff, x reader but just barely

•While making conversation with your four Vampire lovers you were suddenly plagued with a question.

“How do you guys feel about vampire related media?”

-That question was an immediate head turner. The cave goes dead quite before Dwayne speaks up, “Well…vampires are in hiding so…”

-This sparks a conversation about how media representation of vampires may not be accurate, but that's a good thing. “If a book or movie comes out and it is shockingly accurate to what being a vampire is really like, the creator isn't going to last long.” David explained

-That's because there's a set of rules vampires have to follow and one of those rules is to never publicly reveal your double life identity

-”If something like that comes out, that means a vampire has broken that rule OR somebody knows vampires very closely and is creating media they know shouldn't exist.”

-Turns out if a vampire breaks that rule it's basically open season to kill and destroy their creations.

•You turn the conversation and begin to ask how they, specifically, feel about certain vampire representation

•Bram Stoker's Dracula

-Dwayne is the first to buy in his opinion.

-Dwayne feels that while it is a cult classic and well written, The characters are exceedingly dumb.

-”Johnathan spends a ridiculous amount of time talking about other characters ‘Breasts’ and trying to figure out why his host climbs walls ‘like a lizard's.”

-David is the next one to speak up

-David thinks it's not really worth the read

-”Unless you're trying to brag to people there's no point in reading it.”

-”Also why was Mina talking to that old sailor so much?”

-Paul laughs as he remembers “how fucking crazy he wrote Dracula to be”

-”I'm pretty sure the real Dracula thinks it's a heinous crime against him”

-Paul hasn't read it but have heard enough about it to know even the more obscure references

-Marko comments on the graceful writing style and the beautiful descriptions

-”I've only read it because Dwayne thought I would like it"

-Marko also loves how oblivious Jonathan and most of the other characters are

-All of them think the movie adaptation is hilarious and love the shitty special effects

•Interview with a vampire

-Paul chimes in immediately

-”God it's so homo erotic it hurts…in a good way.”

-Paul thinks its a nice horror novel mixed with a weird cozy atmosphere

-Dwayne thinks it's another well written classic and He actually begins to rave about all the themes involved within Anne Rice’s work

-”It's a beautiful Gothic thriller with a deep, sadly comedic energy.”

-He even offers to read it too you sometime

-Marko chimes in quickly about “Claudia’s rebellious behavior and persona”

-”imagine watching your family choose somebody else over you. It's so deeply upsetting but to an understandable level.”

-”I would have hated to turn so young. I look like a teenager and other people can respect that to a certain point. But being five years old with the mind of an adult, No one would respect you.”

-Marko relates to Claudia on an internal level and loves unraveling her character. When you ask why he quickly responds "Some people call me a cherub... You think I enjoy that?"

-David says he doesn't have much to say other than it was a decent read (That's his version of a compliments)

•Twilight

-All of them agree that it's laughably horrendous

-Almost immediately at the same time they say “This is the skin of a killer Bella”

-This leads to banshee like laughter

David speaks up immediately

-”Why do you humans want us to sparkle so bad?”

-”I personally hate the idea of being a walking disco ball, but to each their own.”

-Marko chimes in quickly

-”Would you like it if we sparkled?” He asked while leans on you affectionately

-Marko thinks the only reason to read it is to have a nice laugh

-”Why did Edward have such a violent reaction of Bella standing by a fan? That makes no sense…like I have mates and I enjoy the smell of you guys but…I'm not nearly clawing off my face at your smell”

-”Yeah yeah, I get he's trying not to overreact but running out of class to get away is crazy.”

-Paul even adds that even thought it's very dumb even he can appreciate the message it's trying to said.

-”something something, coming over adversary, something something, love wins, something something..”

-”Also that Jacob imprinting on Bella's infant daughter is super fucking creepy.”

-when you asked Dwayne about his feels he scoffed and said It's insulting at best and borderline sexual harassment at worst.

-He refused to go into depth

•You thank them for humoring you and they tell you that it's no problem

-David kisses the side of your head in an uncharacteristically soft way “We don't ever mind answering your vampire related question.” He tells you

-Marko turns to you “But seriously do you want us to sparkle?”

-”I think I have some roll on body glitter somewhere..” Paul says while getting up to look for it

Thanks for reading <3

#the lost boys x reader #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #paul the lost boys #marko the lost boys #reader #the lost boys #vampire #fluff #books #lovers

[thecatundertheladder]

how about fsm's and lloyds first meeting in the fsm lives au?

First of all thank you so much for asking!!! I had a lot of fun writing this even if took ages. Right so I haven't completely figured out when the ninja actually meet Fsm, but I'll get to that later. I do have a rough timeline so probably in between seasons five and six (Possession will obviously get retconned a lot). Garmadon is alive btw.

Lloyd had never really made the connection between his grandfather and the First Spinjitzu Master. Like sure he knew it logically, but there was a real difference between 'my grandfather is the First Spinjitzu Master' and 'the First Spinjitzu Master is my grandfather'. And besides, the guy was dead, as far as he could tell, so it didn't really matter other than 'hey I inherited cool powers and also his arch nemesis'. Honestly, the only things Lloyd knew about his grandfather were that he invented spinjitzu, used the golden weapons to create Ninjago, fought the Overlord, and he had two kids, who happened to be Lloyd's dad and uncle.

So naturally it was quite a shock when one day at breakfast Wu announced that his father was coming to visit in a few days.

What resulted from that statement was a rather long and, uh, productive (not really) conversation (a very loud debate).

Cole: What?! But he’s supposed to be dead! Kai: No no one of my village elders said he just left this realm and would return when we need him most. Morro: Nah grandpa just does whatever he likes. Though he was in another realm last time I checked, at least that's right. Jay: What the fuck does that even mean?!

That ,of course, sparked a whole other debate about why Morro knew that. It got sorted out in the end, eventually, after a few thrown noodle bowls.

But while the others seemed to calm down after that, Lloyd steadily got more anxious. Because this was his grandfather, the man who had created Ninjago itself, and fought the Overlord the first time. Yes, Lloyd had done that as well, but what if he didn’t met his grandfather's expectations? What if he was disappointed in him?

Morro, on the other hand, was pretty excited to see his grandpa again; it had been two years, and despite Morro taking advantage of Fsm's omniscience to inform him about various coming and goings, he hadn’t had an actual conversation, and he had a lot of things to show him as well. But Lloyd had seemed pretty anxious since Wu’s announcement, so, like any good older cousin, Morro cornered him on the way to breakfast.

Morro: What’s up with you? You’ve been anxious ever since dad told us grandpa was coming here. Lloyd, mumbling: What if I don't live up to his expectations? Morro: Huh? Lloyd, louder: What if he's disapointed in me? Morro: As someone who's actually meet him, his expectations are don't die, and don't kill innocent people. Pretty low expectations if you ask me. You'll be fine.

This makes Lloyd feel a bit better, but he's still anxious, and he refuses to talk to anyone else about it because, to him at least, it seems a bit dumb to be anxious about meeting his grandfather when no else is (they are, Lloyd just hasn't noticed).

Anyway fast forward to The Day of The Arrival. Lloyd gets up earlier than usual in order to mentally prepare himself for meeting God. And, since he's expecting to have a few hours before the First Spinjitzu Master arrives, he doesn't really bother to make himself presentable before making his way to the kitchen.

This was a mistake.

Because when lloyd enters the kitchen there's man(?) sitting at the table wearing a black kimono with gold detailing. And Lloyd's first though is 'fuck, its the First Spinjitzu Master' before he realises that the man (? seriously why is it so hard to tell) is in his late thirties at most. So Lloyd's next thought is 'why is this random person in my kitchen?'

Lloyd, suspicious: Who are you and why are you here? Fsm, smiling: I'm your grandfather, and I'm your grandfather. Lloyd: You can't be my grandfather! You're like thirty! Fsm: I am not thirty, I'm a shapeshifter. Fsm, now vaguely concerned: You didn’t know that? Why didn’t you know that?

So, luckily, Fsm, by being themself, manages to almost completely allay Lloyd’s anxiety by getting up, telling Lloyd to follow him, and going to find both his children so they can smack them on the head because come on you two this is Morro all over again (Fsm can't really talk though, his godly domain should really be 'forgetting to tell people important information'). Because he can understand Morro not knowing that Fsm - and subsequently their descendants - isn’t human, but Lloyd is actually related!

Lloyd, meanwhile, is shocked. God, his grandfather, is in his house, looking all of thirty, and stalking through the monastery all while grumbling under his breath about his kids not telling Lloyd something, all while Lloyd trails behind him like a lost fawn.

It’s then Lloyd remembers his pyjamas and bed hair, and he just, internally cringes. Like, c'mon, this is the First Spinjitzu Master, and here he is looking like he just got out of bed (that he actually did just get out of bed is completely pointless in Lloyd’s mind). But something about this thought process must have shown in his face and body language (never mind that Lloyd is behind his grandfather), because suddenly the First Spinjitzu Master (man Lloyd really has to get his name) is turning around, stopping Lloyd in his tracks.

Fsm: Stop that. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I am 25,000 years old, and I have raised two children, I have seen a lot worse than bed hair.

That makes Lloyd blush, but his grandfather is already on the move again, seeking out his children.

Of course, once Fsm does find their children, Lloyd has the pleasure of finding out that his grandfather his half oni, half dragon (“dragoni”, his father says, “easier on the tongue”).

But once Lloyd processes that he’s not fully human (and, like in the show, he’s pretty calm about because it makes a lot of sense when he actually thinks about) he starts to bond with his grandpa and damn the First Spinjitzu Master is not anything like he expected him to be, but honestly, Lloyd is actually kinda relieved about that. He’s a lot more approachable than Lloyd expected, and it seems he’s where Wu and Garmadon got the more, um, eccentric sides of their personalities. Lloyd is still a bit nervous around him, but that slowly goes away over the few weeks that Fsm is staying for.

Throughout those weeks, Lloyd kinda starts to get comfortable around Fsm. Lloyd shows Fsm a bunch of video games (I've decided this includes Minecraft because, listen, Fsm would be great at Minecraft (specifically creative mode) and you can't tell me otherwise), as well as board games, which leads to the interesting revelation that Mystake (Mystake?! Who runs the tea shop?!) banned Fsm from playing uno a few months after it come out because he tackled someone after he had to pick up 16 cards.

Hope you enjoyed!

But yeah I’ll probably do a separate post for the family bonding.

Also I feel like I need to give fsm a proper name at this point. I’ve been calling them imaragami (ih-ma-rah-gar-mi) since I started thing this whole idea up but tbh it’s just a bunch of random syllables put together (I’m kinda attached to it at this point tho). But anyway what do you think?

#lmao lloyds gonna have a fun time #bc fsm drops information like a dad (they are but ) #that is to say he doesn't tell you anything #and then hell drop the most insane piece of imformation #and then never bring it up again #fsm lives au #ninjago fsm #fsm ninjago #the first spinjitzu master #ninjago morro #ninjago lloyd #ninjago #lego ninjago

[lol-jackles]

Hi, how are you?

This post is more of a vent and some comparison between supernatural and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

I was just listening to the "sacrifice" melody from the episode "The Gift" and I started to ramble a little.

If we put both series together I can see that Sam is the reflection of everything that Buffy is. That is to say, he would have basically become the character of Buffy if he did not have Dean in his life, if he were an only child, he would have a legacy to fulfill despite wanting the opposite but fulfilling exactly the destiny of the.

Now that I'm analyzing the series I see a lot of Buffy in the character of Sam, as if they were inspired by her to create him, which is great and maybe that's why he became my favorite character.

The entire journey that both characters take throughout their lives leads them to the same point, the sacrifice for their brother/sister. Both make the maximum expression of love they can, not for the world, but for the person they love, one has heaven as a reward and the other hell.

When you say that if the character was just Sam in the show, I firmly believe that the show would have been a success just the same.

Sorry for my English.

No worries your English is good. Like you I've always saw a strong parallel between Buffy Summers and Sam Winchester, and even though I've said that Supernatural with just Sam would work with some tweaking (X), it may not lasted 15 years without Dean. But nonetheless the show still could have been a success for five to seven seasons, like Buffy.

Even though Buffy has her Scooby gang, I’ve complained on my blog that they don’t actually listen to her when she needs emotional support.  The one who does give is her polarizing sister.  Buffy’s disgust and disappointment that her closest friends were unable to distinguish between her and Buffybot the sex robot was both hilarious and terribly sad. Fans have even called Buffy "whiny" for having opinions, occasionally being vulnerable, frightened and sad. It couldn’t possibly be because her friends repeatedly fuck her over, she was yanked out of heaven without her consent, she’s been burdened with huge responsibility, and she’s constantly taken for granted, right? She couldn’t possibly have any reason to be angry and to speak up about it.   Just like Sam.

After 22 years, Buffy the Vampire Slayer still holds up. Besides flipping the trope of a small blonde girl chasing after monsters instead of being chased by them, the show helped solidify the formula of season-long story arcs (X) along with stand-alone episodes.  Buffy was basically the precursor to the Golden Age of television; it was ahead of its time.

Buffy Summers and Sam Winchester...

After

#Buffy summers #Sam Winchester #Buffy the Vampire Slayer #Supernatural