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angelplummie · 1 year

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OKAY FIRST OF ALL HEY BABY IVE MISSED YOU SO MUCH

And yesssss I see the update where you’re writing for killing stalking!!! 😩😩😩😩😩😩😩 literally going to die I’m so happy

BUT OKAY, a chubby reader (yk your girl thicc 🤪) yandere/toxic relationship/SMUTTT with Sangwoo where he cheats on Y/n all the time but she’s cocky because he always comes back to them. Then one day Sangwoo gets upset by Y/n’s cockiness and he teaches her a lesson…..

I LOVE YOU BABE AND MUAHHH I MISSED YOU

LOSING YOU

OH SANGWOON X FEM!CHUBBY!READER

cw: degrading, dubcon, implied kidnapping, references to murder, infidelity, he’s just super mean and weird, jealousy, threats of murder

a/n: this one is so fucking late and i’m sorry but i did it! this is going to flop because i never post and it’s a weird one so reblog please i love you

“Y/N? You awake?”

Of course you are, you always wait for him.

“Yes. You’re back late.”

Your voice was quiet with fatigue, but he could hear you alright as he removed his clothes and dropped them beside the bed. You had your back to him, but you could hear the soft thud of his jeans coming down to the hardwood floor, you could hear his shirt land on the edge of the bed. The house was eerily quiet when he wasn’t there, you didn’t like when he was gone. He always came back though. Always.

“Yeah, I was talking to this girl, Jieun. She goes to the same university as me.”

He lifted the covers and slotted himself behind you, your ass tucked right into his crotch, and he slung his big arm across your chest. You could smell him, he reeked of alcohol and girl. You’re sure if you turned around you would see his neck littered in hickeys, the top of his shoulders covered in nail marks. It was the same every time he went out, but what did that matter?

Those girls may think they’ve done it, gotten sangwoo to ’open up’, show them the ‘real him’, but they’re wrong. They’re all wrong. Only you know sangwoo, the real him. He probably tells all those girls about some version of his tragic past, his abusive father, his suicidal mother, and they think they know all there is to know about him. Until the next day and there’s parts of them rotting in sangwoo’s trunk.

You know everything. And you love him anyway. You are the only one for him, and you know it. He always comes back. You know he belongs to you. With you. He needs you like air, every day he comes home and fucks you like an animal, holds you tight, kisses you, he’s even soft with you, real sappy and disgusting. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he likes you a lot, he just... has a short attention span. You’re all he thinks of when he gets home, and it’s not like he really thinks about the other girls. You know it means less than nothing to him with them, and that’s all that matters. And when they’re dead afterwards, there no competition of who he likes more. You were never a jealous type anyway.

“I had sex with her in the men’s bathroom. From behind, against the wall. Then up against the mirror.”

Well, that was new.

“Oh?” you said, ”Did you have fun?”

He never told you the details of his flings, he just didn’t try to hide them, so this was strange. Maybe it was a close call with the authorities and he’s anxious about it.

You feel an curt exhale on your back.

“Of course I had fun. She’s not dead if that’s what you’re thinking. We just fucked.”

Why was sangwoo being so strange?

“Ok,” you turned around to face him, still in his hold. You noticed it’s getting tighter. Just as you thought, you could see blotchy pink hickeys on his neck in the dimming light. His face was neutral, unreadable looking down at you. You can’t lie, he was intimidating like this. To survive sangwoo, to live with him, you have to read him, and read him you cannot.

“Are you alright sangwoo?”

“Obviously,” he snapped, before sighing,

”Don’t you even want to have sex?”

You nearly laughed, but it’s in your best interest not to.

“You mean right now? Aren’t you tired?”

“No I’m not tired!” his voice booms, and you flinch against the covers.

He rolled you over to your back and now he loomed above you, something burning in his eyes. His hands were either side of your face, and his knees caged in your body, tapering in at the thighs, pushing the fat around to a near painful squeeze.

“Whats wrong with you? Aren’t you angry? I fucked someone else, stupid bitch.”

Mouth slightly agape, you tried to process. You didn’t even react to the name calling anymore, although the throb of hurt would never go away.

“You want me to be angry with you?”

“No, of course I don’t. I just want to know why you’re so ok that I cheated on you.”

You had absolutely no idea what was going on, and you were afraid to ask.

Isn’t this every mans dream? A girl that doesn’t care when he sleeps around? What’s his problem?

“Sangwoo...” you breathed, struggling to find the words. You were so confused.

“You always come back,” you wait a second, and when he doesn’t seem to be appeased, you continue, “I don’t care because you always come back to me. I know you like me best, that’s all I care about.”

His frown falters, momentarily, before a meaner, colder look takes his face. In the darkness he’s still beautiful and terrifying.

He hated that you make him burn. Sangwoo doesn’t burn for anyone, he burns people. And yet, everything about you is so... he can’t put it into words how he needs you. The thought of you with another man makes him close to violence, very close. So why can’t you do the same? Why don’t you care? He knows you love him, he isn’t an idiot. But... you aren’t showing it how he wants. Maybe you’ve gotten a little too comfortable. Maybe he needs to rectify that.

“You think I need you that much?” his voice had dropped an octave, gotten quieter. You knew to be careful now.

“No, but-“

“You do, don’t you? You think I’m your lovesick puppy? You think you’re in control?”

“Sangwoo, you’re not-“

“Don’t try and deny it.” his face was blank, totally blank, eyes boring into yours. He stares at you a while longer, and when he got no reply, he continued.

“Well, you’re wrong Y/N. I don’t need you. You need me.”

“I know Sangwoo, I do need you,” your voice shook, heat of the bed doing nothing to quell the cold creeping up your spine.

“Do you think you’re the only one that makes me cum?”

“No, but-“

“But I’m the only one that makes you cum?”

“Well, yes-“

“So what are you so smug about? Get up.”

He leant back, away from you to let you obey him, and got up slowly, towering above you. He stood expectantly, and you stared up at him from the mattress, not quite sure what to think.

“I said, get up,” his tone was sharp, it was hard to disobey.

You pushed yourself up as fast as you could manage, rocking gently to your feet. Your arms hung awkwardly at your sides, you weren’t sure what to do with yourself. His glare was unforgiving, but you couldn’t deny the throb in your clit at the anticipation.

“Turn around.”

And you did, a thrill running through your body. You were still stood stock still when he pried your arms from your sides and he pushed you against the wall, body pressing up against you. It hurt a little, but he was quick to make you forget.

Hands gripping your waist, he ground himself against your plump ass. Your hands were in front of you, bracing yourself against the wall. You made chopped breaths and little whimpers as he groaned into your skin, getting more and more annoyed at you; you drive him insane, why are you so calm? Why can’t you be like he is? You should be stupider, need him more. What the fuck is wrong with you?

He stopped grinding his erection on you all of a sudden, grip not relaxing for a second. Your eyes darted around the icy dark, heart thundering in your chest, face still against the wall.

“Sangwoo...” you whimpered, and he could feel the heart beat of your fat little pussy, “please, keep going.”

He huffed from his nose and his breathe ran down you neck once again.

“Then beg.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you stopped to process what he had said.

“Are you deaf? I told you to beg. Beg for me if you really want me that bad. Prove it.”

“Oh!”, you started as it clicked in your head, and the throbbing of your pussy became insatiable,”Please Sangwoo! Please, give it to me, please! I need you, please!”

He smiled at the whininess in your voice, the desperation. The need.

“I still don’t know if you deserve it,” he had taken on a playful tone now, temper seemingly subdued by your little display.

“Sangwoo!” you whined in protest, desperately pushing back into him. He groaned breathily at the feeling of your ass pressed right into him, the fat cushioning his cock teasingly.

His dick throbbed and he gave in,

“Fine, I’ll give it to you. You really are pathetic you know that?”

And he yanked down your tiny little pyjama shorts, to find your bare pussy underneath.

“Anything I tell you to do you do it.”

Your eyes squeezed shut and you yelped when he delivers a sharp slap between your legs, spread awkwardly open for him against the wall.

“But you still act like your better than me.”

He pressed against the small of your back with one hand, keeping you squashed tightly against the wall, chubby cheeks squishing at the pressure. With the other hand, he hastily undid the zip of his jeans, pulling them down around his thighs. Erection bobbing against your bare ass, he pulled his boxers down to his jeans and you stifled a whimper at the anticipation.

He always got weird like this when he was angry, and mostly you just had to stick it through. He would calm down after he had had his way with you.

Slowly, he lined up, relishing in the little whimpers coming from you. And he pushed in, groaning at how fucking wet you were. It was nearly impossible to go slow, you were so soft and he was angry at you, and yet he did, for fear he would cum too quick if he didn’t.

“You’re not better than me, alright?”

You huff, the stretch of his thick cock making you tense.

“Alright?”

“Yes,” you whined through pouty, drooly lips,”I’m not better than you. I’m sorry Sangwoo, I’m really sorry.”

“tsk,” he gives you one grind of his hips, nestling his enormous cock into you,”You’re just saying that ‘cause you want me to fuck you.”

“No! That’s not it.”

Tears were blurring your vision and you fought with your entire being not to moan, feeling his fat dick rub warm against your insides. He was moving ever so slightly to torment you, make you feel guilty for wanting to moan like a bitch when your poor boyfriend was so upset at you. You knew you had to keep talking, because he still wasn’t moving, and the feeling was enough to drive you mad.

“I love you, Sangwoo, I promise, it’s not-“

But suddenly, he started drawing in and out of you, not slow but not fast either. You let out a gasp of relief, and he smirks behind you.

“Alright, that’s enough outta you. Just take my dick like a good slut. Ohh fuck-“

You squeezed hard and his hips stuttered, pace increasing involuntarily.

He fucked hard into your gummy cunt, and you dripped down onto his balls. Eyes rolling back, he let out a string of grunts right next to your ear, making you shudder.

“See how I got you?” he said breathlessly, gripping the fat of your waist so hard it will probably bruise. The feeling of his breath against your neck made your stomach flip.

“This is just how I was fucking her,” and he drove into you again, grunting.

“I’m fucking you just like I was fucking her.”

You can only whine in response, something he takes as dismay. It pleased him.

“She was tighter,” his balls slap on your clit,”Not such a whore.”

Drool is inched past you lips, but you’ve gone limp in his grasp, only able to brace yourself against the wall. You heard him, but you’re unable to think about what he’s saying. You mumbled,”yeah, yeah, yeah”, he likes to be listened to.

“Maybe I should just get rid of you and keep her instead, maybe she’d be more fucking grateful”

Your breath hitched and there’s a sinking feeling in your stomach. You froze, and he laughed.

“That got your attention, didn’t it?”

You whined as his cock ploughed against your insides, cheek mushing against the wall. But that sinking feeling got deeper.

“Shit,” he hissed, his pace slowing,”I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum inside you.”

You hummed, still panting.

That feeling of dread didn’t fade. It didn’t fade when he came inside you, gruff grunting and a punishing grip on your waist. It didn’t fade as he pulled out, let go of you and let you fall to the ground. It didn’t fade as you felt his presence behind you, staring down at the top of your head.

And it didn’t fade as he walked away, back into bed, called you to him like he loved you. Told you that he loved you, kisses your temple.

And as you crawled into his arms, shaken, sweating, Sangwoo smiles. You need him to keep you alive.

You need him.

His hand rested over your chest, he could feel your heart rate. He could feel your fear. And it made him happy.

You were as afraid of losing him as he was of losing you.

#oh sangwoo #sangwoo x reader #sangwoo x femreader #sangwoo x f!reader #killing stalking #killing stalking fic #killing stalking x reader #ks fic #ks sangwoo #tw dubcon #tw jealousy #death threats #please people see this i’m begging u #sangwoo thirst #sangwoo smut #killing stalking smut #killing stalking thirst #oh sangwoo x reader

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blondeboyfriend · 1 year

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𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Sangwoo Oh x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] I'm sorry. [ SYNOPSIS ] Desperate for guidance you turn to your parish's beloved priest. [ WORD COUNT ] 5.2k [ CONTENT ] DARK CONTENT, modern AU, y/n wears a dress, sacrilege (I sexualize Saint Sebastian among other things), violence, gore, noncon, sadomasochism, oral sex (m + f receiving), facial, vaginal fingering, virginity loss, alcohol, drugging, manipulation, gaslighting, degradation (he calls you a bitch and a slut), strength kink, size kink, creampie, blood, cannibalism, murder.

Mass was the only thing you looked forward to. All week you would anxiously await Sunday morning, unable to sleep. Sitting in the pews, hanging on your priest’s words was the only time you felt even a modicum of joy. It was a sanctuary, a place untainted by the trappings of the world.

The world was cruel and unforgiving, secular and obscene, a temptress. It stirred up the wanton feelings you tried to keep buried. Its lax rules and unrestrained passions marred you, kept you away from God’s shining light. However you never considered yourself wholly devoted to God; your relationship was always on shaky ground. Even as a kid you doubted your place in the church. The darkness lurking inside you convinced you that you weren’t worthy.

Your love of your family trumped your love of Christ. You coveted the riches of your neighbors, their fancy cars and their fashionable yet tasteful clothing. You were lazy, haunted by the illnesses you feigned as a child so you could miss school. You felt envious of your peers. Being a good Catholic came so naturally to them. Why was it such a struggle for you? Why were you cursed to wrestle with Satan?

For the longest time you kept your struggle to yourself. Sometimes you even fantasized about leaving it all behind. God wouldn’t miss a heathen, especially one constantly fighting the disgusting beast inside them. There was no point of keeping up the charade if you were so bad at it.

But that all changed when Father Sangwoo took over your parish. He was young for a priest, maybe a few years older than you at most. You constantly found yourself gazing at him during service. His voice was deep and reassuring. He was tall and had broad shoulders. He was an image of perfection, though he did look perpetually sleep deprived. His beauty was enough to make you recommit yourself to the Lord.

This revived fervor came with a new shade of self-loathing. You spent every Saturday night fingering yourself and whimpering his name. Lusting after a priest was unforgivable. But you couldn’t help it; you were insatiable.

This loathed hunger gave you the courage to linger around after mass though, your eyes fixed on Father Sangwoo. You never uttered a word or even approached him. You knew you’d end up saying something stupid. Lurking was the only intimacy you could handle. Having his direct attention would be agonizing. It’d bring you to your knees.

Usually you were content with this arrangement, but sitting in the back of the pews while two women preened him was driving you crazy. One fastened a loose button on his shirt. Another plucked a stray hair off his shoulder. You clenched your fists, digging your nails into your palm. They didn’t deserve to touch him.

You were so absorbed by your silent rage you didn’t notice him staring back at you. You flinched as your eyes met his. You tried to get up, but nearly tripped over your own foot. Your face was hot as you escaped, baptized by the crisp morning air.

“We’ll see you next Sunday, Father,” one of the women said in a sing-song voice as she brushed past you.

“We’ll see you next Sunday, Father,” you repeated under your breath mockingly.

A weighty hand grabbed a hold of your shoulder, pulling you out of your hateful haze.

“What was that?” Father Sangwoo asked, freezing you on the spot.

Your nerves got the better of you and you laughed. “It was nothing.”

You turned around to face him. He tilted his head to the side, his concerned look left you feeling exposed. It was as if he could see through you, like he could peel back whatever lies you were desperately trying to craft.

“I was just talking to myself.”

“Well that was obvious. But you didn’t answer my question. What were you saying?” he asked with a smile.

We’ll see you next Sunday, Father. You repeated the words over and over in your head, trying to conjure up a sentence that had a similar ring to it. It was maddening. Nothing came to mind. It was as if you had never spoken in your life.

“I… I said… I was saying—”

“Father!” an old woman shouted as she scurried out of the church. “There’s a bat in there!”

“Not again,” he sighed.

You went to leave but he latched onto your wrist. His grip made your joints pop.

“I’ve noticed you hanging around after service. It has me a little concerned.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh tha—that’s because I’m waiting for my ride.”

“Then why do I always see you walking down to the bus stop?”

“That’s where they get me!” you said, trying to pull your wrist out of his hand.

“That doesn’t explain why you look so miserable all the time.”

“Miserable?” you repeated in a small voice, finally freeing yourself from his grasp.

You felt ill. You always assumed you kept your anguish hidden on Sundays.

“I only noticed because I feel like that more often than not. If you ever need someone to talk to that understands, I’m here for you.”

It sounded strangely rehearsed, like he was acting in a play. But that could have been because speaking to him felt unreal. You never planned on getting this close to him.

“Father! The bat!!” the old woman called out impatiently.

“I’m on it!” He turned his attention back towards you, his gaze gentle. “Why don’t you come by the rectory tonight?”

“Me?”

He nodded. “You deserve my full attention.”

“I do?”

He patted you on the head. “Yes. I want to help you in any way I can. I hate to see any of my children so upset.”

“Fa—”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” he replied, disappearing into the church.

You stood, mouth agape. He had noticed you. This whole time he knew you were hanging around like a kicked puppy, watching him with sad eyes. You felt so exposed. But a part of you was elated. He wanted to be there for you. It was like a dream come true despite the anxiety it agitated.

The day crawled by. You felt like time slowed down to spite you. You paced around, practicing what you were going to say. Making a fool of yourself wasn’t an option. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you messed everything up.

Once the sun began to set you started to get ready. You dug through your closet, desperate to find something cute and modest. You weren’t planning on seducing Father Sangwoo or anything; you just wanted to look your best. You decided your best option was a black denim pinafore dress cut at the knee with a boxy white t-shirt underneath. Not too flashy, but not too matronly.

You took the last bus. It was a risky move, but you planned on asking him to drive you home after your talk. There was no way he’d say no. You’d be stranded without his assistance. Plotting to take advantage of his kindness felt bad, but you were greedy. The more time around him the better.

“Don’t say anything stupid. Don’t say anything stupid,” you chanted on your way up the hill.

Seeing the rectory made your stomach hurt, nerves once again getting the better of you. You stood in front of it for several minutes before you found the brave to knock on his door.

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to come,” he said.

The sunset’s warm light made him look angelic. His hair was damp, towel dried by the looks of it. He was dressed incredibly casual in a cozy, chunky sweatshirt and a pair of low hanging sweatpants. You struggled not to stare at the deep, muscular v-cut of his abs.

“You didn’t specify a time so I, uh, just left when it felt night-ish.”

“I said seven o’clock.”

He was lying. You remembered how he proposed. His wording was vague.

“No. You definitely said night.”

The warmth left his eyes, but he maintained his cheery disposition. “I don’t need you telling me what I said.”

You couldn’t imagine why he’d lie about something so benign. Maybe he did say seven and you couldn’t remember. You were pretty on edge during your conversation. It would make sense that your recollection would be tenuous.

You stared at your feet. “I’m sorry, Father.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said as he let you inside.

The rectory was sparsely decorated. You would never expect a man of God to have lavish material possessions, but Father Sangwoo’s home was barren. There was nothing on the walls except for a wooden crucifix over what you assumed was the door to his bedroom.

It smelled fetid, absolutely reeking of cigarettes. The walls were stained a nauseating yellow. Everything looked worn. You wondered if maybe the furniture was handed down from the previous priest. You tried to not let it phase you, but you couldn’t help but be alarmed by the chef’s knife stabbed into his dining room table. It was sticking straight up, erect in its posture.

“Take a seat.”

His couch sat low to the ground and was woefully uncomfortable. There were cigarette burns in the cushions which you willed yourself to ignore. In front of it was a round wooden table with a dying succulent in the middle.

He took a seat beside you, his body broaching your personal space. “So,” he said. “What’s bothering you?”

“Um. Where do I begin…”

“I don’t know. Maybe the beginning.”

His tone was still sweet, but there was a bite to it. He was probably just trying to be funny, but you didn’t feel familiar enough with him to joke around like that.

“I’ve never felt as close to God as I should.”

“And why is that?”

“I don’t know.” You paused; you couldn’t remember any of the things you had rehearsed earlier. “I’ve never felt good enough. I feel… unworthy. I want to be closer to God, but I don’t deserve it.”

He frowned. “What makes you think you don’t deserve it?”

Your palms were clammy. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“I—uh. It’s like… I just—”

“You need to loosen up,” he interrupted.

You felt ashamed for being so uptight. He looked so bored by you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he sighed as he got up.

Your heart was in your throat as he walked past the knife. For a brief moment you had the clearest image of him grabbing it and lunging at you. You felt so guilty when he left it alone.

He came back with two shot glasses and a sizable bottle of soju. He lazily shook the bottle before cracking it open.

“Grab a glass.”

You looked at the shot glasses on the table. One looked dustier than the other. You went to grab the cleaner looking one.

“Not that one.”

You grabbed the other glass. You looked at the bottom of the glass and saw what looked like powder.

“It looks a little dirty,” you said, holding it out.

He glanced at it. “I don’t see anything.”

“Really? It—”

“Do I look like someone that would offer a guest a dirty glass?” he laughed.

You shook your head and watched him fill it. Your cheeks felt hot.

“This is my first time,” you blurted out.

He raised his eyebrows. “Well, I’m the perfect person to break you in.”

You laughed nervously and tried to avert his gaze. It was like having a spotlight on you. The glass felt so heavy in your hands. You weren’t sure how to wield it. You never saw your parents drink alcohol, excluding the Eucharist. There was no point of reference so you knocked it back in one gulp.

It didn’t taste nearly as bad as you were expecting. It was crisp with a faint sweetness. The finish was bitter. You felt like something had coated your mouth. You didn’t like it.

“Impressive,” he said smiling. “Have another.”

You held out your glass and watched him pour you another drink. You drank it just as fast the first time. You were pleased that aftertaste was pleasantly astringent rather than bitter. You went to set your glass down, but he poured you another drink. You didn’t want to be impolite so you accepted it.

“Aren’t you going to have any?”

“I will when you pour me some.”

You wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you said, taking the bottle from him. “I—I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Your hands trembled as you served him. It didn’t help that he was watching you so intently.

“That’s obvious.” He took a sip and set the glass down. “Now tell me why you don’t deserve to be close to God.”

“I’m a bad person. I mean, maybe I’m not. But I feel like I am. I’m jealous of everyone. And nothing makes me happy so I just never do anything… which makes me feel worse. I don’t know. I feel like I’m bad at loving God and cherishing his gifts no matter how hard I try. And—this is so ridiculous—but If I can’t be the best at it, why even bother?”

“That is ridiculous,” he said, pouring you another shot.

“I know. I know. And that’s why I never wa—wanna talk about it. It’s so stupid. It’s not a competition. I tell myself that all the time, but it doesn’t stop me from comparing myself to others. It makes me wanna give up. But I’d feel so lost without the church and the world is so… overwhelming. I get swept up in the temptations. I’m not strong enough. Not strong enough to leave. Not strong enough to survive. I’m stuck.”

“Temptations? Like what exactly?”

You swallowed hard. “Uh. Um. You know… people.”

He poured you another shot. You drank it down happily, but noticed he still hadn’t finished his.

“They’re…” You let out an embarrassed laugh. “I get urges.”

He smirked. “Everyone has those.”

“Do you?”

“I said everyone, didn’t I?”

Your cheeks were on fire. You wanted to bury your face in your hands, but your arms were too heavy.

“What do you do about these urges?” he asked.

“Father, I’m not sure we should talk about that.”

“I can’t help you if you keep things for me.”

“… I don’t act on them. I wanna wait until I’m married. But… sometimes at night I…I can’t. It’s too embarrassing.”

He leaned in. “You touch yourself, don’t you?”

You started feeling woozy. “I know I shouldn’t, but I don’t know what else I’m su—supposed to do.”

“You can always find someone else to do it for you.”

“Isn’t that even worse?” you slurred.

“It depends on the person.”

He put his hand on your thigh. Your head was swimming. Your body felt heavier by the second. It was like you were slowly descending into an abyss. He slipped his hand under your dress. You closed your thighs and cursed the wet spot blossoming between your legs. You didn’t want this. Fantasizing was one thing. Living them out was terrifying. If you fooled around with a priest, you would burn in Hell for eternity.

You tried to brush his hand away. “Don’t.”

“Shssh. Let me help you.”

He lifted up your dress and opened your thighs. You winced as he rubbed the wet patch on your underwear.

“I’m serious. Stop.”

“Don’t be a tease.”

“We’re not allow—”

“Who fucking cares,” he cooed as he forced his hand under your underwear. “Just relax.”

“Father, please.”

He spread apart your folds and slipped his fingers inside you.

“I can’t,” you whimpered, your body tensing up.

He ignored you and rubbed your clit. You hated how good it felt. It made the pain of having his fingers inside you a little bearable, but still the inherent wrongness of it all weighed on you. You tried to keep quiet, but a breathy moan fell from your lips as he applied more pressure.

“Who would you imagine touching you?”

“I don—I don’t wanna say…'' you drawled.

You were losing your grip.

“Quit being a bitch and tell me,” he demanded as he fingered you.

He curled his fingers inside you, grinning as you gasped.

“You.”

He smirked. “Aw. This must be a dream come true then.”

Your body was getting limper by the second. Staying conscious was barely possible. You writhed against the couch as he thrust his fingers deep inside you. You arched your back and rolled your hips against them. You wondered if this was God punishing you for not being devout.

“Look at how easily you’re falling apart.”

You cursed your body for betraying you.

“Don’t. Please,” you begged.

“You think you get to act like a slut and tell me no?”

Tears trickled from the corners of your eyes. You felt like an idiot for crying.

“I’m… I’m s—so sorry, Father.”

“It’s okay.” He wiped away one of your tears. “I forgive you for tempting me.”

He was knuckles deep in your cunt and showed your clit no mercy.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you moaned.

He smirked and pulled you into a kiss. His mouth tasted like cigarettes. You thought about pulling away, but things weren’t so bad now that he couldn’t berate you. It was kind of nice actually. You steadied yourself by placing your hands on his chest. He bit down on your bottom lip before brushing his tongue along the tender skin. You opened your mouth and rolled your tongue against his. You had no idea what you were doing and prayed you were doing a good job.

“Father,” you whimpered. “I don’t feel so good.”

You felt yourself losing consciousness. You could barely keep your eyes open.

“You’re fine,” he said, pressing his lips to your neck. “It’s okay.”

You tried to speak, but all you could do was groan. He sunk his teeth into your neck and you drifted away.

A stinging pain roused you from your daze. You didn’t know where you were or how you ended up there. You could barely open your eyes; it was as if they were glued shut. It was such a simple act, but for some reason it was a herculean effort. Your body felt like lead and your head was throbbing.

You felt a cool breeze against your skin, stronger than a fan or air conditioning. You fought to lift your head, but all you managed to do was roll it slightly to the side, your chin pressing against your chest. You groaned and tried to will yourself out of your haze.

God must have taken pity on you because like clockwork your eyes sprung open. Unfortunately what roused you was the sting of something penetrating your ribs. It was the kind of pain that came on sharp and fast, and radiated through your body.

You groaned and tried to focus. The world was a blur, the light blinding. You were freezing and sore. You tried to swat away whatever had penetrated you, but your arms were bent back and tied at the wrists. All you could do was writhe.

You looked down and saw your body, unclothed and bruised. You choked on your breath when you noticed two wooden arrows jutting out of your thigh. Your stomach was in your throat. You could barely shriek as another arrow whizzed past your ear.

“Whoops.” It was a low voice, eerily familiar. “Don’t move around so much.”

The saccharine tone made you sick. Spit pooled in your mouth. You finally found the strength to lift your head. Your eyes met his. You recognized him. No, you knew him.

“Good morning,” Father Sangwoo said, shooting another arrow at you. It pierced the soft skin of your underarm.

“STOP!” you screamed. “What are you doing?!”

Stomach acid inched up the back of your throat.

He smiled. “Isn’t it obvious?”

You spat at the ground before shaking your head. You couldn’t make sense of anything. The muscles in your shoulders felt like they were on fire. You must’ve been tied up for hours.

You turned your head to the right and saw a dense forest of red pines.

You inhaled sharply. “Why ar—”

He sighed and set his bow down gently. His looming figure made his way over, dread pooling in your stomach. His steps were slow and deliberate. His lips curled into a smirk. He grabbed you by the hair and forced you to look at him.

“Why all the dumb questions?”

“M—my rib—”

He glanced at the arrow sticking out of your ribs. “What about them?”

“Hurts,” you choked out through gritted teeth.

“C’mon. It didn’t even go in that deep.”

He yanked it out. A stream of warm blood flowed from the wound. All you could do was shriek.

“Yell all you want,” he said, licking your blood off the tip. “It’s not like anyone’s around to hear you.”

You decided to take a chance and kept screaming. Your voice cracked as you called out for help. At first he seemed amused, but his expression soon changed to one of disgust and boredom.

“Are you done? Did you get it out of your system?”

You let out one last anguished cry before settling down. Your throat ached.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset. You agreed to this last night.”

You sniffled. “I would never agree to something like this.”

He laughed. “Oh, really? You told me I could while I was filling your ass with my cum. Or at least I think you did. You were saying a lot of weird shit.”

“You’re lying!”

“So what if I am? It’s not like me telling the truth is going to help you.”

His cock was hard, fighting against the cloth of his sweatpants. You started to sob.

“Please just let me go.”

“Why would I do that? You’re my little crybaby.”

“I won’t tell anyone. I won’t say anything,” you pleaded.

You clenched your jaw, grinding your teeth. You desperately tried to ignore the searing pain of the arrows.

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m not letting you go.”

You fought against the rope tying you to the tree. You wanted to kick his teeth in. Your fear had mutated into a fury like no other.

“Let. Me. Go.”

“Alright. I’ll let you go.”

He quickly untied your arms. The relief was immense. You could have sworn angels were singing as your shoulders finally relaxed. As you sunk down into the ground he pulled out his erect cock.

“But you gotta suck me off first.”

You immediately opened your mouth. You’d do anything to get out of there.

“Good girl,” he said, stroking his shaft.

It was long and veiny, the slit dripping precum. He guided it into your mouth, groaning as you struggled to take it in. Tears ran down your cheeks and you choked.

“Breathe through your nose.”

You heeded his advice and it helped a little. You were too weak to bob your head so he held the base of your skull and gently thrusted against it. Anytime his cock slipped down your throat you gagged. He looked so smug as he stared down at you, grinning as you struggled to suck.

“You’re so pathetic,” he said as he rutted against your face. “You’re lucky you’re cute or else it’d be annoying.”

You whimpered.

“Is it too much for you?”

He pushed you off of his cock. A thin string of drool clung to it, connecting your mouth to his tip.

“Mhm,” you answered feebly.

“Really? Do you wanna stop?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, I see. So you’re rejecting me? That doesn’t make me feel good considering I listened to you bitch about your life last night. You should be kinder to your host. Didn’t your family teach you any manners?”

“I—But you said you were going to help—”

He laughed. “What is it with you and telling me what I said? You keep doing that and I’m gonna have to bash your skull in.”

Your eyes were so wide you thought they were going to fall out of your head. You refused to believe this was happening. You pretended like you were anywhere else. You tried to ignore the cold breeze pricking your skin, the blood drying on your body, how exposed you felt, and most of all you tried to ignore Father Sangwoo.

“Don’t look so scared.”

You shut your eyes and thought about your warm bed. Your cat was probably curled up at the foot of it, waiting for you to come home and feed him. All it did was make you cry harder. You should have kissed his little forehead before you left. But you were in such a rush, too eager to meet up with the Devil himself.

“Hey.” He kicked you with his bare foot. “Listen to me when I’m talking to you.”

“What?” you sniffled.

“You look terrified. You should smile.”

Your expression didn’t change.

“Do you wanna live?”

You nodded.

“Then smile!” he cheered.

You grimaced.

“Perfect,” he said as he jerked off.

You sat there, grinning like an idiot and trying to ignore the immense pain you were in. He looked down at you with a predator’s gaze, teeth biting into his bottom lip. His breathing grew shallow and he tossed his head back as his cum splattered against your face.

“Do you feel blessed?” You didn’t, so you chose not to answer and kept smiling. He kicked you again. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good girl,” he said. “You look cold. I think you’ve earned going inside.”

He took his time pulling the arrows out of you, talking about how badly he wanted to fill your wounds with his cum. He assured you he was kidding, but gave you absolutely no reason to believe him. How could trust someone so duplicitous?

He carried you like a bride through the red pines. He did it with such ease; it made your heart flutter. You were still terrified, but you clung to him. You imagined you were in the arms of someone else, someone that wouldn’t call you names and maim you.

“How much further?” you asked. The forest seemed to have no end.

“I wouldn’t be in a rush if I were you.”

“I’m ju—just really cold.”

He kissed your cheek and assured you it wouldn’t be much longer.

When you reached the grounds, he went in the opposite direction of the rectory.

“Why—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The church wasn’t much warmer than outside. You actually felt less comfortable. You knew you were going to Hell. There was no escaping your fate at this point. You buried your face in his neck.

He laid you down on the altar. A clear plastic tarp was draped over it. It stuck to your grimy, bloody skin. You attempted to cover your chest with your aching arms.

“I don’t know why you’re trying to be modest now,” he said as he got undressed. “I’ve already seen everything.”

“Not in here,” you said weakly.

He rolled his eyes and spread apart your legs. He positioned himself between them and ran his tongue down your folds. Your toes curled as he kissed your clit. His gaze never left yours. He took in every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. You found yourself enjoying the bliss of his kiss and the pain radiating from your wounds.

“Father,” you mewled as you ran your fingers through his hair.

It was so soft. You twirled a strand between your fingers as he feasted on your dripping cunt. You rolled your hips against his face, surrendering yourself to euphoria. He kissed the inside of your thigh before biting into your tender flesh. You winced as he applied more and more pressure. His teeth broke through your skin. You tried to push him away, but you were too weak.

The pain was indescribable. You would have rather he shot you with more arrows. His teeth dug further into your thigh and he pulled away with your flesh between his teeth. Blood poured from the newfound wound.

You watched in horror as he swallowed. You looked at your thigh and shrieked when you saw the chunk he took out of you.

“What?” he asked as he lapped at the blood spilling out.

You tried to get up but he held you in place.

“Please stop! I’ll do anything!”

He ignored you and bit down on another part of your thigh.

“Just let me go! I won’t say anything! You’ll never see me again! I’ll leave you alone! I promise! I swear to God!”

He ripped off another piece of flesh. Your blood covered the bottom half of his face. He looked like a wild animal. He crawled back on top of you, his face unbearably close to yours.

“You should be honored,” he cooed.

You tried to wriggle away from him, but he was too strong.

“I usually don’t do this, but fuck. You’re so pure. I need you to be a part of me.”

All you could do was weep.

“Hush. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” he consoled as he forced his cock inside you. “Jesus Christ, you’re so tight.”

He began to thrust. He clenched his jaw and rutted against your limp body. You watched as his cheeks turned pink and his brows knitted together in rapturous agony.

“I couldn’t throw you away like the others. You’re such a precious, little thing.” He kissed you. “I needed more time with you. I thought about snapping your neck last night, but that would’ve been such a waste. You deserve better.”

You felt so small underneath him.

“Fuck! If I could keep you I would, but that’d be too complicated.”

“So yo—you’ll let me go?”

“Huh?” He moaned as his cock hit your cervix.

“After this… you’ll let me go home?”

He burst out into laughter. “What? Are you a fucking idiot? Of course I’m not letting you go home.”

“Then please keep me! I won’t cause you any problems! I won’t say anything to anyone! I’ll do whatever you want! Just please don’t kill me! I don’t wanna die!”

“Wouldn’t death be better than being miserable all the time?” he asked, stroking your cheek. “Think about it. It would solve all your problems.”

“No, it wouldn’t! I don’t wanna give up. Please just let me live.”

“I’ve already made up my mind. I’m sorry,” he said. “It’ll be okay. Your death won’t be in vain or anything.” He picked up the pace. It felt like his cock was going to split you in two. “I promise I’ll put your body to good use.”

“Father—”

“Shut up,” he said, covering your mouth. “I’m gonna come.”

He filled your cunt to the brim with his cum. He held your body close to him and pressed his forehead against yours. You lost all hope. There was no escape. You had completely resigned yourself to your fate. All you could do was hope his hand would be swift, and you wouldn’t suffer much.

#oh sangwoo x reader #sangwoo oh x reader #sangwoo smut #killing stalking smut #killing stalking x reader #.fics #cw.sangwoo #reader insert #x reader

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lynxtheserval · 6 months

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Hi! Can I request a Yandere Boombox X Fem Reader?

(tw: Lots of Yandere shit like holy hell I think I went crazy with this one tbh (like murder (probably), stalking, stabbing with a glass thingy, probably more) please don't read this if anything related to this scares or triggers you, brother I was wondering if I went a little crazy with this one)

Yandere!Boombox x Fem!Reader:

I loved writing this one ngl, his personality might be a little ooc cuz I've never written for Boombox before.

It may be a little better written in certain spots then others, this was made in multiple days.

I like to call him blocky Lucio (totally not a overwatch fan LMAO)

You were having a rough day. The casual old "wake up on the wrong side of the bed" thing.

First, you get in the shower when it's still cold. Freezing, even.

Second, you ran out of coffee to make at home, went to the local coffee shop just to have them get your order wrong twice. You didn't even get the right drink at the end, just taking what you got, you were in a rush after all.

Third, the past couple weeks you've been feeling watched, you assumed it was just anxiety but were never sure. The feeling was especially strong today.

Fourth, you ended up getting to work late, accidentally making your boss mad. Your boss wasn't a great person.

"Why the HELL are you late?!" Your boss yelled at you when he saw you walk through the employee only door, "I told you to be here over an hour ago!"

"I'm sorry sir," you started, "some stuff happened-"

"Some stuff, eh?" He interrupted, "like, what? Your parents died?"

"No but-"

"Then you have no right to be late!" He stomped off, leaving you to get to work. Apparently they were short-staffed today, as you work at one of those fancy restaurants a bunch of higher-ups go to. It was empty, so you didn't understand why he was so mad.

As you started cleaning up some of the tables, you heard the door open and a particular looking demon walked through. He was wearing a light green shirt with a slightly darker green tie, a baseball cap placed backwards on his head, 2 long green horns protruding from the sides of his head, but what stood out the most was his visor. A visor was placed over his eyes, bright green lights resembling eyes glowed from it, he seemed to be staring right at you. He saw you look at him, tilted his head slightly to the side and grinned at you.

You looked at him for a moment, then realized you should probably sit him down at a table. You walked over to him in a tired manner and asked,

"Hey welcome, just one or are more coming?"

He stared at you some more, and seemed to be observing your features, then realized you spoke to him. The eyes on his visor changed to a shocked realization expression.

"O-oh- you talking to me?" He pointed to himself.

You nodded slowly, getting partially creeped out by the long seconds of staring he seemed to be giving you.

"Yes..?"

He seemed to blush a tiny bit, then responded.

"Well- uhm- yeah! Just me! Haha! I'm Boombox, by the way." He laughed nervously, putting his hand up to his neck.

You raised an eyebrow, spoke,

"I'm Y/N."

And you got a menu and you motioned to Boombox to follow you to a table. You lead him to a table, a table for two. You placed the menu down on the table, then you went to go get water for him.

As you walked off, the man watched you. Your beautiful features, hair, eyes, everything about you was wonderful! As he saw you walk through the employee only door, he frowned. He hates when he can't see you. Boombox decided to get up and look into the window of the door.

As you walked into the break room, you took a deep breath and sat down to take a break. You laid your head down on the table and thought about the day you've had so far, and Boombox who was waiting for his drink.

The look he gave you, it was scary. Even through his visor, you could tell, he wanted something from you.

As you started to doze off farther, you felt someone slam their hand on the table. You shot your head up and saw your boss with an angry look.

As your boss yelled at you, Boombox watched you, and your dumb, sick, awful boss. He hummed and his eyes underneath the visor turned into a pissed, sadistic look. Your boss isn't going to like what's about to happen.

After your boss was finished yelling at you, you decided to leave. You were debating on quitting. As as you walked home, you still had that paranoid feeling, like something was wrong, really really wrong.

Back at the restaurant, your boss walked out of the break room, and Boombox was back at his table. He was staring directly at your boss, he waved his hand and smiled at him.

"Hey, could I get a water?" He asked, as calmly as he could manage.

Your boss muttered something along the lines of "she didn't even get the water.." and went to go get a glass cup.

Once the boss came back with the water and placed in on the table in front of Boombox, then Boombox grabbed it quickly, then stood up and approached the boss.

"You know, it's uh, kinda rude to yell at a person like that," he grinned and took a sip of the water, "especially Y/N, she's trying her best, yeah?"

The boss looked confused for a moment, "I have no idea what you're talking abo-" as Boombox splashed the cold water from the cup all over him.

"Oh yeah?" He hummed and grinned even more, "I saw the whole thing." Boombox shoved the boss down on the ground and threw the cup directly at the boss's face. It shattered.

Boombox laughed, crouched down and grabbed one of the larger shards from the broken glass, and started to stab the boss directly in the neck.

Back at your house, you sat down at your couch and cried, so much was happening today. After about five minutes of crying, you heard a knock on the door. You sniffed and walked over to the door, wiping your eyes and opening the door.

It was Boombox? Something felt off about him though, why was he holding a glass shard, covered in blood..? It took you a second to realize what was going on, you tried to slam the door shut but he blocked the door with his foot, smiled and pushed the door open with a lot of force.

"Hey sweetheart! Sorry about your dumb boss, I wanted to make sure you were okay after that!" He walked inside your apartment and closed the door behind him. You backed up in fear and tried to run away from him, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you closer to him. "Oh no no no! You're not leaving quite yet."

You looked at him in fear and tried to say something but all that came out was a yelp as he pulled you closer and into a hug.

"He didn't hurt ya too badly, did he? Seriously, you don't have to worry about him anymore! He's been dealt with." He grinned even more and sighed, "you know, I've been watching you for a while now," he laughed, "and I thought it was finally time to introduce myself! Also I never got to tell you back there, Y/N is a beautiful name!"

#x reader #phighting x reader #boombox phighting #boombox Phighting x reader #brother help me #phighting #this feels like one of my longest fics lmao #i hope its okay #im so exhausted man lmao #tw: yandere #tw: murder #(probably)#tw: stalking #tw: stabbing #holy hell im so sorry #this was crazy to write in school LMAO #tw: killing #tw: glass

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lunaekalenda · 2 years

Note

Any spare head-canons or scenarios for a needy Ren? 🥺🤲 Like maybe him waiting for you to come home from work dressed in nothing but your shirt and clinging to your pillows because it smells like you? Desperately rutting his hips into your bedsheets because your scent is everywhere and he just found your laundry? Whining out his Angel’s name over and over again because he needs them so bad? I’m down horrendous for him and its honestly embarrassing XD

of course, of course! thanks for asking and sorry for the wait! i'm also down bad don't worry it's normal

nsfw under the line · obsession, stalking, possessiveness, yandere behavior · be aware.

· there isn't a moment he hates more than when you have to leave the nice apartment he got when you both started dating. even when he keeps his old apartment, and you didn't care to sleep on it, as little as it was, probably because Ren has something on that flat you shouldn't see. And also, from where will he spy you whenever you go back home?

· If the case is you leaving to sleep at home and clean the apartment you're still paying and in which you pass some nights, with Ren or without him, it's easy. He still has all those little hidden cams and, with a quick walk to his old flat, he can have you again in front of the cam, changing clothes, after showering, and his favorite: missing him.

· If you're leaving for work, that's a whole new world. He doesn't have cams at your workplace -yet- and still, he finds new and creative ways to keep you clear-cut on his mind. First, he has all the audiovisual content he has been collecting since he discovered your apartment number. Pics, videos and audios from the most diverse types and only one purpose: make him hard.

· If he had to rank all the things he has from you, he would definitely put first your first time together. Just hearing you moan his name while his fingers tickle with the memory of you clenching around them makes his eyes shine with lust and his voice break with desire.

· In any ways, it's also common to find him wearing your clothes, specially, your t-shirts. Some of them are too loose for him, some too little, but he still hugs them and takes them to his nose with his eyes closed, imagining you're already there, with him, and not in that stupid work where he has no way to enter.

· He doesn't know how many co-workers you have, how many of them are attractive, how many of them flirt with you. Maybe some are too touchy and maybe some too flirty, but it isn't anything that can't be fixed. Just tell him, and he'll be more than glad to make those hands useless and cut those tongues off so his angel won't get those problems at work anymore and, hopefully, with an example, everyone in the department, no, in the whole company, will learn what happens when you try to touch his angel.

· But, in anyway, he spends most of the time admiring your pics together, remembering the date you had last week or admiring and kissing the ring you bought each other after a couple months together.

· The first hours are pretty easy: he watches a couple videos, probably touches himself to them, cleans the mess he leaves after and daydreams about you and him, and the perfect future both of you are gonna have if you stay by his side, because there isn't anything he wants to avoid more than killing you. Don't obligate him, angel, it's really easy. Why wouldn't you stay with someone who loves you this deep?

· If you're late, he stalks your social apps profiles and also your GPS location - it's not his fault that you sleep leaving the mobile phone so accesible and with a bunch of easy passwords.- He isn't more than a worried boyfriend. Why are you late? Maybe something happened to you... Maybe you're with someone while he waits for you at home.

· Other times, he makes chores. He helps with everything he can, and you can't agree more on how lucky you are for having such an attentive and helper boyfriend by your side. He insists on doing the laundry almost every day, even when you have warned him a couple times because some of your panties - specially, thongs. - have been missing for a while. Ren promises always to search them harder, thinking the washing machine might probably have a hole that makes your panties and only your panties disappear.

· Even when he washes his own underwear, socks and bras, you don't find suspicious that the only things missing are your panties. Ren likes to keep anything that strongly smells like you, usually, with kinky purposes: Likes to touch himself with your t-shirts on, to put them between his teeth to get the scent closer; to improvise a flesh-light with your pillow, the one you use for your pretty face, and your bedsheets, that still keep the smell of your gel; to wrap your underwear around his cock and to use it for his own pleasure. There are little things he enjoys, solo fun with you in mind.

· Already at night, your absence is unbearable for him. He calls you at the exact hour your turn finishes and sends you messages to know he should go and pick you up. Gets happy as a puppy whenever you text him a selfie for his private collection with the caption "I'm way home!"; but also get irremediably sad whenever you delay because of extra work. Sometimes, that sadness just makes him wait for you on the couch, pouting as your name escapes from his mouth.

· Other times, it makes him a little angry, but nothing that will transcend after putting you against the first surface he finds and remembering you that there's a boyfriend who loves his angel very much and waits for their return everyday to find them being late. Making him wait. But no worry at all, angel. Starting tomorrow, you'll probably keep a mic and a cam on so he can make sure you're being productive and not leaving him, alright?

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buncoreclown · 2 months

Text

Alright Killing Stalking thoughts rn

Omegaverse au where omega Bum gets pregnant in the first season.

His heat came out of nowhere well at least to him because he had lost track of time long ago in the damp dark basement he was kept in. Didn't even realize it until it was full force his body always hot and hurting before due to Sangwoo's abuse but now... He was leaking slick body burning. He squirmed on the cold ground, lame legs kicking up as he couldn't even use his hands as they were chained together. He whined, pain intensified by it. Was Sangwoo even home? That song wasn't playing and for once he wanted it to, wanted Sangwoo to be home, wanted this pain to stop-

BANG

He heard the closet door slam open. So he was home... Feet stomped down the stairs and got closer and Bum whined opening his legs. Sangwoo grabbed his sore ankle making him yelp before grabbing his face.

"I can barely think with your damn omega stink," he growled. He hated how this pathetic man was making him want him. At the moment he wanted to bury his knot so deep in him that it tore him open and it made him sick.

"Please, Sangwoo please," Bum whined. He knew how much Sangwoo hated begging but he couldn't help himself. He smelled so good and he hurt so much he could barely think. Sangwoo didn't want to give in not to him but fuck he smelled good and a hole was a hole even if it was from a homo right? He stripped him not even preparing him before he plunged inside and Bum could barely breathe eyes wide as he was speared. He felt like he would rip in two but his hole kept leaking more slick inviting the alpha in.

"What? Isn't this what you wanted?"

For the week his heat was around Sangwoo kept him knotted, kept him full that his belly bulged but that wasn't hard with how scrawny he was. After it was back to normal, leaving Bun alone in the basement until it was time for him to do his omega duties. Then he started to get sick. Every morning Sangwoo walked down to the acrid smell of bile as the man never ate much. He started to get tired of the clean up and gave him a bucket that he emptied.

Sangwoo didn't really think anything of it. Bum didn't have a fever and he wasn't any weaker than he was before but then his smell started to change. The next time Sangwoo washed him up he realized there was a bump starting to form when he didn't even eat more than usual. If anything he ate less due to the vomiting but not Sangwoo was putting two and two together.

Bum was pregnant. And he was going to be a father. A conflicting feeling flashed through him. He swore he would never be his father. But Bum... He hoped his face is where the resemblance with his mother stopped.

#killing stalking #omegaverse au #yoon bum #oh sangwoo #fic ideas that always turn into mini writings #i blame this on duck #i was never into pregnancy until it

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greenflamedwriter · 4 months

Text

Killing Stalking AU:

Okay when I read Killing/stalking I was a bit disapointed. Too much killing not enough stalking -_-

And so Imagine Luo Binghe who is a serial killer instead of wives it's girlfriends and instead of marrying them he kills them. And Shen Yuan, who bought the apartment just to observe such a thing ends up obsessed he calls the victims 'wives' till death do they part, and he has an obsession with the seriel killer.

Like bordering on gay but he's still in denial.

Already he has a list of all the names of the girls, Ning Yingying was the first and now he's up to Qui Haitang, already he counted that Luo BInghe was accumilating an anti-harem.

Shen Yuans room is FULL of photos, clothes, even HAIR of Binghe as well as Luo Binghe in a apron, bloody and cleaning up his mess.

Shen Yuan loved him. Quircks and all.

But he wasn't stupid, not only was the evidence of Binghe's crimes in this room, footage and videos of girls going into Luo Binghes house then NEVER returning, wanted posters and last places they were timed perfectly. A little plushie doll of Luo Binghe as well in a corner. But he also hid evidence around the city, places with his name on it, most were holding his anime stuff but after the first five lockers the rest were filled with nothing but Binghe's crimes. He never went back to the old ones, to obvious instead he would pay for a new locker and fill that one up.

NSFW undercut

And Sy whose still in the closet probably thought it was normal to react, esp seeing the stallion having sex with the women in his bedroom, with his camera Shen Yuan could see everything.

At one point it even felt like Luo Binghe looked up and locked eyes with him, it made Shen Yuans breath hitch. It wasn't possible, it was dark, lights out, and Shen Yuan shivered palming himself, so hard it was the point of pain.

And this was when he decided to get closer.

Shen Yuan wears a disguise, Luo Binghe didn't like men, only women. So Shen Yuan wears a wig, with a hat and glasses and actually nice clothes. He dresses nicer as a women than he would as himself, in just sweats and loose jumpers.

He sits at a cafe and watches a girl on Luo Binghes arm Wife #32 Shen Yuan couldn't believe he was sitting right next to them.

And each time he would get closer, changing his looks, and disguise, practically listening in. Listen to the lies Luo Binghe would say, his favourite colour? Song? Movie?

Shen Yuan saw into his house, he knew what Luo Binghes interests were better than these wives.

He got too close once, when a wife dropped her wallet, he picked it up.

"Excuse me?"

She turned with a sneer on her face, that was usually how people reacted to Shen Yuan, like he was gross. He knew he would look alright with decent clothes hair cut, but he had that attention before, he didn't want it again.

But seeing it was just a small girl with a face mask pacing her her wallet with kind eyes, the sneer fell away into surprise.

"Oh my gosh! Thank you!"

"It's no problem, I understand the stress of losing your credit cards and having to cancel them and start over- I'm overally clumsy like that aha."

Luo Binghe was staring at him, and Shen Yuan couldn't help but shiver at the attention.

At that moment thats when Shen Yuan realised something, back in the comfort of his home. He may actually like Luo Binghe...

well...it's just Luo Binghe, right? maybe he's just bi and only likes him?

Either way, he kept skirting around him, until the wife inevitably died and he sat at the cafe, waiting for Binghe with his next fiance-

"Hello, miss. I thought I'd find you here."

Shen Yuan held back a flinch as he glanced up, "Ah hello there, I kinda recognise you," Shen Yuan leaned closer as Luo Binghe sat down before him but internally he was freaking out.

Was he wearing the same disguises over and over!?

Did Luo Binghe figure him out!?!?!?

"My names Luo Binghe, and you are?"

"Um," Quick think of a name! "Xiao Gongzhu."

"Little palace mistress? Hmm suits you."

Like hell it does! But that was the only thing he could think off!

"I was just wondering," Luo Binghe looked bashful, and it broke Shen Yuan out of his thoughts, he looked so boyish it was cute.

"Could we trade numbers?"

What? He killed Wife #32 already? wait- was Luo Binghe seriously seeing Shen Yuan as a potential wife!?

This was bad- it was going to mess up Luo Binghes streak! He was the protagonist, he couldn't mess up because he was accidently tricked by a man!

Also the not-dying thing would be great and if Shen Yuan didn't go back to his apartment and pay rent then the landlord will come in and SEE all of his evidence, Binghe would go to jail!

"Uh yeah sure- I mean yes!" Shen Yuan spoke then grimaced at how flustered he was, even so he still couldn't believe it- Binghe's number!

Luo Binghe hummed "Hmm I'll put you as Princess, if thats okay I like giving pretty girls like you pet names. You can think of a name for me too."

"Hmm, I like Bingpup, you're like a cute puppy who deserves head pats!" Shen Yuan spoke and saw Luo Binghe's smile stiffened.

Shen Yuan immedietly preened aha thats right! Luo Binghe hates being called dog or mutt! He found out that Luo Binghe had an awful teacher who would call him that in school! He found that out by waiting for Binghe to take wife #16 on a date and bugged his house!

When they were getting intimate after their pillow talk Luo Binghe admitted such a sad thing.

Because wife#16 called him a good puppy during foreplay, and when she said she'd never do it again he agreed and said she won't then straggled her. Shen Yuan listened to that footage over and over again.

When Luo Binghe stood up, Shen Yuan giggled "Oh and one more thing." He stood up too, flipping his hair over his shoulder.

"If you think you can take me as the next wife, you can forget it."

Luo Binghe paused looking confused, "I'm sorry?"

"I know your type, playboy. You have a fiance wine and dine, but after the first night your the type to believe in death do us part." Shen Yuan emphansised the smile on Luo Binghe's face faded. "This is amazing, the Luo Binghe! I'm such a huge fan," Shen Yuan kept his voice low, so the other patrons at the cafe wouldn't here. "I actually liked Liu Mingyan, such a good girl she knew martial arts as well. Pity, but I don't plan to be accumulated into your 'harem' I don't like to share. No, I prefer to watch."

Luo Binghe eyes narrowed, "Do you think it's a good idea to be telling me this?" Shen Yuan looked at him with pity, "I can't help it, your so cute and I didn't want to lie to that face when I turned you down. it's not any of Binghe's fault, I just genuinly like to watch, if we cross that step I'm afraid I'll have to die of shame." Before he left he also glanced back, "Oh, and I'm a collector by the way, I have evidence all around Shang hai completely hidden unless I mysteriously disapear, someone is bound to find everything. See you around, Husband."

Shen Yuan flaunced away, knowing he was being followed, thank GOD for public bathrooms, he walked in, immedielty removing his wig, hoodie and skirt and pulling on his baggy and drabby clothes, and oiled up his hair to look more greasy and gross espeically from wearing a wig, he dumped the back in the bin and walked out, slouching and on his phone, he walked past Luo Binghe who stayed leaning against pillar waiting for the 'women' to leave the bathroom.

Shen Yuan still didn't trust it, hailing a taxi and purposfully going the awkward way to get to his apartment. Even then he decided to back track and couch surf on his friends sofa instead, just to be safe.

Even so, when he recieved a text from Binghe, vaguely threating him, promising he'll find him and kill him, Shen Yuan shivered feeling his breathing hasten.

"You can try, Husband."

So long story short, Liu Qingge is the policemen interogating his sisters mysterious death, finds Shen Yuan and believe him to be a victim of domestic abuse, and yeah both Luo Binghe AND Shen Yuan are playing cat and mouse the power imbalances keep changing, and at one point, Shen Yuan finds himself actually going on dates with Luo Binghe, even helping him take down a wife with his 'husband' it's such a rush. And for a moment even Luo Binghe felt affection for Shen Yuan and didn't care that it was revealed he was a guy, even started having some fucked up moments of his own, comparing Shen Yuan to his mother. Shen Yuan: Hello police? Theres a man with a milf kink send him to jail!

Even so theres honeymoon moments, SY actually spends a night in Binghes house but thats where it all goes wrong, SY is now a wife, he just doesn't die straight away, forced to being trapped in the kitchen dressed as a women and still playing their cat and mouse game as Luo Binghe is trying to force him to reveal his evidence, he claims he'll stay with Shen Yuan properlly if he does. And then SY at one point escapes the house, finds Liu Qingge and confesses everything and even gives him the keys to his apartment and the locations of the lockers with the evidence.

Luo Binghe finds him, says he saw SY with another man, had he grown bored with him?

Pretty much ends the same way as Killing Stalking both die in the end, Luo Binghe dying alone, and SY still thinking he's alive and is frazzled ends up going into on-going traffic.

-I think with the story it was supposed to end tragically, because neither were good people, but I just hated how the character in KS was reduced to an innocent uwu who was sexualised but didn't have a braincell- I would've preffered if there was some intellectual schemes, like KIRA VS L both smart people trying to one up the other and maybe just a hint of romance, delusion on both sides, Binghe finally seeing SY as his partner in literal crime but then because of jealousy ends up trying to kill SY after he's another Wife isn't he?

#SVSSS #svsss #dark fic #Trigger warnings #dead dove #don't eat #but dark #Killing #Stalking #killing stalking #Scum Villain #SCUM

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criticalbeesknees · 1 year

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Steve curses scrubbing the blood from his porch for the third time this month. Why can't he be a normal person that gets wooed with gifts and dates, and not whatever this is. At least he thinks it's flirting. Otherwise someone is very aggressively trying to run him out of town. God he hopes it's the first one.

You see the thing with Steve is...that Steve bleeds love from the very first steps he takes. It pours from his eyes and smile as a toddler on his unfeeling parents. On old ladies at the library, on puppies and flowers, and first preschool friends. It showers his highschool friends, the girls he dates and the personnel at his favourite diner. It curiously sprays Robin and the kids, and oh so sweet music. For years it's like putting sun into a cardboard box and expecting rays not to peak from the gaps, no one can take it away from him.

Steve painfully learns that no energy source on this planet is eternal. Rejection, exclusion and being taken for granted for years turns his river into a drizzle, then into a lazy drip. He still cares for those he deems as his, allows them to use him as he pleases after all he choose them. There has to be a reason why what he gives is not returned. Something rotten within him. He carries all their secrets and worries and smiles sweetly when no one asks about his days. Until something changes.

At first it's not that noticeable, a red drop in his kitchen, few stray hairs on his steps, a key in the locked door that he has to turn three times instead of two. But soon his admirer gets bolder - he finds the antlers of the moose that charged him by his door, a bracelet of a homophobic lady from the store on his kitchen table, a human heart and a jacket belonging to a drunk guy that picked a fight on his porch.

For the past two months everything ends up on his porch in a pool of blood. It's not sloppiness, his stalker is more skilled than that. Rather they are making a big show of it, marking their territory. He's disturbed how little it disturbs him. To know that someone is watching his every interaction and cares enough to rid him of any obstacles in his life is strangely comforting.

He places down the rag he's been using and shakes his head fondly.

"This is all very cute of you, but just know the kiddos are of the limits or my nail-bat will find your ass," he calls out into the cold evening before unlocking the door and getting inside.

An assortment of garden bushes shake with silent laughter as racoon of a man bites into his palm to hide his smile.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #tw blood #tw violent imagery #tw violent thoughts #tell me undead eddie wouldn't kill for stevie i dare you #i have been battling ungodly fever while writing this #so I'm sorry if this is shit #i need more deranged steve fics #stalker Eddie #tw stalking

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kennys-parka-jacket · 1 month

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...

#Aight; little thing before i get ready for work #For a little while I've been making an AU where kenny abuses the shit outta craig. (They're basically my OCs at this point lol)#And as I was thinking about the darker parts of the story i was like 'why does this seem so familiar????'#Then i realized... Killing Stalking. Cunty blonde guy hurting a sad dark haired guy lol #(Though it's not gonna be nearly as heavy as that manhwa. I decided there won't be anything extreme in this fic. If i get to writing it)#I dont post about most of the AUs i make in this fandom cuz honestly i suck at prose #But for once i feel like i have; like; an actual story and not just one specific scene with nothing around it #That makes me wanna write it down and put it out there for other people to see #Alright gotta run now. See ya

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bhaalstemple · 5 months

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i know if orin had someone who fully loved and accepted her, she would've had a worse religious crisis than durge ever did with gortash

#i think durge before they met gortash were consumed by fulfilling bhaal's vision #but orin? she did all of this for her grandfather. for the only person she loved. for the person she considered her inspiration.#orin was starved for affection. for a genuine connection. for a family. she thought bhaal gave her that.#how sweet and cruel couldve been to know all the love you thought you were given was just cruelty after being shown how it truly feels like #ik if she had someone who accepted and loved her fully she would've had the worst religious guilt in history. worse than durge by far #i need to create an oc who fixes her idc how ooc it is. she needs therapy and my oc will give her that and unconditional love <3 #i wish i could write a fic where orin is going to kill a noble lady but she thinks she's too pretty to kill her so fast and she starts #stalking her by changing her form and preparing the kill. but the closer she is to her the more she is focussing on her instead of murderin #and she wants to kill her so badly. she thinks it will be the most beautiful death. but she also doesn't wanna lose her. and it breaks her #she wants so desperately to kill her so she remembers Father again. but she is unable to. her hands falter for the first time in her life #anyways can somebody please write this fic ty #orin the red #blanca.txt

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lunaticus-platina · 1 year

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Laura's love language is killing someone for her s/o.

Travis' love language is cleaning up the bodies for his s/o.

Change my mind. I'll wait.

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coffyao · 9 hours

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it's just a "date" chapter 3.

lee puts down his fork, and leaned back against his chair, satisfied.

"...phew, that hits the spot."

when he first arrived at seungbae's place, he overly prepared himself for the fact that seungbae tended to be a bit of a wet blanket - leading to the slow and painful exclusion of him even being invited to work parties. but today, he seemed to be on his best behaviour - in his own way, but still, on his best behaviour.

"not a bad evening. rough start, but it was semi-decent."

"...just semi-decent?" seungbae said in a rare, playful tone.

"if you want me to flatter you that much, then alright, it was good."

by my own personal standards, of course.

"...just good?" seungbae repeated, his smile growing wider.

damn it.

If there were three things lee couldn't resist in this world, then it would be alcohol, dark chocolate and his junior's smile. The first two were barely manageable, but the last one had him in a fawn-like state.

lee covered his face, thwarting his lips from curling.

"ha, you..." lee muttered, and took a long breath.

"you know, for a reserved guy like you...your really not that bad at flirting."

his pride might of been hurt, but being able to witness this side to seungbae made him want to...prod. maybe it came with the age, but if he ended up instigating a strong reaction, he could blame it on that later. alcohol would be the second excuse, just in case that backfired.

lee starts pouring another glass of champagne, and continued, "and in fact, I bet underneath all that uptight, stick up your ass attitude that you have going on at work..."

"your a reallll dark horse in disguise, even though you don't show it."

Lee settled his drink down, and moved his gaze towards a quiet seungbae, who seemed unreadable, yet the tension didn't deter lee from saying what he wanted to say.

"some women love that. they love guys like you..."

"and what kind of guy am I lee?"

seungbae sat up straight, his body nonchalant and yet, his eyes flickered with emotion, anticipating the next answer.

hahaha, finally.

"it's a bit crude, do you still want me to say it?"

"go on."

he was going to get his own back.

"...someone who takes himself too seriously, but will fuck you like he means it."

He finally said it. Although he was simply repeating words that he ease-dropped from a group of women when they went to that new year's party a year ago, it was all clear to him now. seungbae pretended to be clueless, and he had to figure out why.

"I'm spot on, aren't I?"

…if seungbae pretended to be clueless, then that could mean he could have so much experience that lee doesn't know about. so much.

I'm jealous.

nonetheless, he had to reign back his personal feelings. he was being irrational, and he had to end this on a good note while he still could.

"w-well, there's nothing wrong with that," lee spluttered nervously, refilling his glass, "just learn to loosen up every now and again..."

"...so, that's what you think of me," seungbae said, removing his glasses as if to get a better look at a flustered lee, who knocks his drink back once he saw seungbae's exasperated frown.

seungbae folds his arms.

"lee, your presumptuousness still knows no bounds."

lee scoffs, "well-"

"-and your mouth never ever seems to stop running."

fuck me.

He knew he took it too far. He knew yet, he still wanted to push him further.

"Well, what are you going to about it huh?"

Lee stood up from his chair, putting his palms against the linen cloth.

"...seungbae. on a date, there's only two way's a evening like this could go."

I'm losing my mind.

"the start of a blooming relationship, or a lustful one-night stand."

Lees pushes his palms forward to the point where he towers over seungbae, a temporary power that lee held over him, something he deeply relished, despite how childish it was.

"...now. where would you like this evening to go."

___

#killing stalking #yang seungbae #ao3 #a03 link #a03 fic #read on a03 #fanfiction #seungbaexdetectivelee #detective lee

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toxicanonymity · 1 year

Note

that scream blurb that you posting about Ghostface being unconscious and the reader testing to see if he’s hard…. you have to make the full fic now pleaseee omg it was so good

Every inch

1.4k / m!ghostface x f!reader / from blurb.

SEQUEL: EVERY INCH 2 🔪 THREEQUEL: 3

Slasher master list

Warnings/notes: I8+ noncon (ghostface unconscious) somnophilia. Based on the car scene from Scream II, but it's modern day (cell phones exist). You can HC this as anyone but he's night walks coded if you read my other stuff.

Your skirt grazes his robe as you carefully stretch your right leg over the driver’s seat, trying not to touch him, trying not to wake him up. It’s tricky crawling over Ghostface to get out of the car. He smells faintly of weed and sweat. You’ve never been close enough to smell him before. You’ve never been close to him at all for more than a few seconds, always with his knife in hand. You hear him breathing behind the mask and assume he’s knocked out from the impact of the crash, but can't know for sure.

He could be pretending for his own amusement, planning to taunt you then stab you at any moment. You’re going to have to open that car door sooner or later - it’s the only one left you haven’t tried. It'll definitely make a noise. You hover there straddling him, delaying the inevitable. Straddling Ghostface, you think to yourself. Is this a nightmare?

You slowly lower yourself into his lap, throbbing at the possibilities of what might await you. Your heart pounds in your chest. You put your hands on the edge of the seat to pull your body closer and your heart nearly stops as your inner thigh softly nudges his hand. But he doesn’t wake up – or if he does, he doesn’t show it. Emboldened, you lower yourself a little more until your damp panties arrive at a warm bulge in his robe and your breath hitches. He’s only somewhat hard, but obviously packing. He still doesn’t move. His chest is rising and falling with his breaths. You know he’s alive. Unable to resist, you lower yourself a little more. You tilt your hips and gently grind yourself against his package.

What if the nightmare became a wet dream? It’s always turned you on, at least a little, but especially lately. It’s been harder and harder to separate arousal from fear. You’ve wondered if it was a sexual thing for him, the way he pursues you. Stabbing is penetrative after all. Does the thought of killing you turn him on? Would it turn him on to wake up to you straddling him? After all, he’s only a man. Why not, you think. This could be your best chance to find out. This might be the most power you’ll ever have in the situation. You’re turned on thinking about it. If you’re mere seconds from potential death, you have nothing to lose. Plus you're curious what's under all this, and it's too risky to lift up his mask.

Fuck it feels good, and the fact that it’s Ghostface, the one who’s been stalking you, killing your friends, trying to kill you - that gives you such a rush. The tables have turned. You’re on top of him now. You look around for his knife and it’s landed on the floorboard along with his voice changer. You reach down to grab it then quickly stab it into the back of the driver’s seat at an angle so you can grab it if you need to but he won’t know where it is. Then you return your crotch to his and a bolt of arousal slices through you when his hard package swells against you. Holy shit he's hung. You slowly roll your hips against him, grinding into him, trying not to be too aggressive, but it’s hard to control yourself.

His breathing changes and your heart jumps to your throat. You wonder, Is Ghostface seduceable? It might be your best shot if you're already getting his dick wet when he wakes up. But there's always the chance he reacts violently, and now that you're up against him, it's clear you'd be no match for his strength.

Then you have a thought. You carefully lift his gloved hand, and he doesn’t react. You lift the dead weight of his heavy arm all the way above his mask, and he still just sits there, breathing. You pin both his hands above his head, between the metal pegs of the headrest. His hands are large and the two of them together barely fit through the gap. Then you slam down the headrest, pinning him there by his wrists.

His mask moves. He seems to look at you. Then a soft, low sigh. You lower your crotch again and he’s harder. You rub yourself against him slowly with your hands braced on the seat and have to stifle a moan in the shoulder of your dress as you grind against him and his cock swells even harder. A soft groan muffled by his mask makes you wetter.

You’re going to have to have him. This is your chance and you can’t resist it. Your inner thigh muscles begin to fatigue as you push yourself off his lap to hover again. You lift up his robe, exposing PJ pants. Strange and not at all imposing, but convenient. You arrange the robe behind his raging erection, then take a deep breath and pull down his waistband. His stiff member stands at attention. You cover it with your warmth before the cool air wakes him up. A stab of desire shoots through your core as your wet panties meet his hard cock. You rub yourself against him and your clit throbs. Your core aches to be filled.

You pull your panties to the side and nestle the swollen head of his cock at your entrance. Then you sink down and fail to suppress your gasp at the stretch. He moans but doesn’t move. Your body makes way for him as you slide down and sheathe him entirely with your cunt. His cock is nice and thick, it makes you feel so full. It’s crazy this cock has been under the robe the entire time. You wonder if you could just fuck from now on. If he’d agree not to kill you - that is, if the threat of it doesn't turn him on.

You rise up, then sink down on him again, his size making you grateful for your ample wetness. You lift and lower yourself and roll your hips into him. You try not to breathe too heavily as you feel it building in your lower belly. You start to ride him less restrained, unable to resist fucking yourself on his nice, hard cock.

His mask begins to move as though confused, and he grunts as he tugs at his arms, unable to free them from the headrest. He’s groggy and weak. You’re not going to stop. You're too close to coming. You greedily keep filling yourself to the brim with him.

His mask looks right at you. “Always wanted this cock,” ghostface says weakly, making your heart race. “Knew it.” Then it echoes from the voice changer on the floorboard. Always wanted this cock. Knew it. He tugs at his hands more violently, then gives up.

“Nasty girl,” he says, voice getting stronger. Nasty Girl.

He thrusts his hips up powerfully and you moan uninhibited. He thrashes his arms and stabs upward with his cock, bouncing you on his lap with the power of his hips. Your whole body tingles and tenses, then you bite your own arm as your walls clamp down around him. You come on his dick, then pull yourself off and he groans in frustration but has no way of getting you back.

You open the car door and you’re torn about whether to make him come or leave him with blue balls. You decide to jerk him off as a power move. You kneel into the open door frame of the car. You wrap your hand around his girth and fuck his fist. “All ya had to do was ask,” he says. All you had to do was ask. You grab the voice changer and throw it down the street. Now he's nothing but a man with his dick in your hand.

“Woulda given you every inch," he says. Maybe every inch of his blade. He nods down to his crotch. "Now you know." His voice is coming back to full strength, smooth and low. It's a voice you can't quite place.

You know you should stab him while you have him tied down, but you're thinking with the wrong head now, unable to bear the thought of this cock going to waste. You slow your hand way down and edge him mercilessly. His big, stiff cock twitches in your hand and you can tell he's dying for more.

You take your phone out of your bra and take a short video of him trying not to whimper, dick sprouting out of his unimposing pajama pants. Then you finish him off and take a dick pic selfie with cum all over his robe. You take the knife out of the back of the seat and leave him stuck in the car.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. Even if you're reading this way later I would love to know your thoughts in a comment! Knowing what you liked helps me write more. 🖤🖤

Thanks @darkscape for helping me brainstorm his tagline.

#ghostface x reader #ghostface smut #ghostface x you #slasher smut #slasher fanfiction #cw noncon #tw noncon #cw somnophilia #night walks #ghostface #slasher fucker #billy loomis x reader #ethan landry x reader #toxicanonymity ☠️#mickey altieri #dark fic #ghostface ☠️

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sundrop-writes · 2 months

Text

Careful - Chapter One

(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader

Chapter One: Over Yet

We can go farther, beyond the end.

Summary:

You and Spencer broke up more than four years ago. Since then, he has tried his best to forget about you. He has pushed all of his feelings down - locked them away into a little box that he never touches.

That is, until he sees your name on a list of potential victims being stalked and killed by a man who kills single mothers. (And he quickly realizes that your son could be his.)

Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst.

Word Count: 5,900

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Please keep in mind - I am not doing a taglist for this series, so please do not ask to be tagged in future parts. I do not do taglists. If you want to be notified when future parts of this fic are posted, you can follow this blog and turn on notifications here - I don't make personal posts on this blog, it is just pure posts of my fanfiction. Or you can subcribe on AO3 to get email notifications when this series is posted. You can also view the posting schedule on the series materlist and check @tenpintsof-sundrop for any information about possible changes to that schedule.

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder/killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of dead bodies, the underlying misogyny that comes with a man killing women, mentions of children being orphaned due to their mothers being killed (though there is no mentions of other living family members taking care of those children - you can imaging that they still have nice families to take care of them if you want, I didn’t fill in that detail), mentions of children being in proximity of a serial killer; exes to lovers - the reader and Spencer broke up and the reason why will be revealed later; mentions of pregnancy/mentions of the reader having a child; mentions of sex that resulted in a child/pregnancy (there is no detailed sex scenes/detailed smut in this chapter, but there will be in other chapters); mentions of JJ x Will; the reader’s looks are described as vaguely as possible; passing mention of incest (in the context of a historical figure); all statements that Spencer makes toward the end of this chapter were heavily researched and are factual; I think that’s about it?

A/N: The reader and Spencer originally dated around Season 1/Season 2 - I state at some point during the fic that they dated for 3 years before breaking up, so they started dating when he was very early Season 1 baby Spence (or even before Season 1) and they broke up around Season 2. So technically this fic takes place around Season 6 - but because I didn't want to distract from the plot, I didn't mention any of the stuff going on with Emily or any of those major canon plot points, and I am using pictures of later versions of Spencer just because that's who I was picturing in my head while writing this. But that's how the math works out. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fic!! This chapter is more of an introduction before we really get into the meat of things, but I still hope that you guys like it.

...

The team had been in Portland for three days.

No leads, a confusing, inconsistent profile - huge pieces missing that would likely give them the real answers.

A patient killer with an extended timeline who likely wouldn’t kill again for months - leaving them chasing their tails, looking for answers.

“Okay, so, let’s take a step back.” Hotch sighed. “What do we know so far?”

He leaned against a nearby table, looking at everyone with the hope of reassessing the case from a different angle. The hope of talking it out to get some answers.

Another woman’s body had been found just before they arrived, and that would mean that the UnSub would be out hunting again soon. This was both good and bad.

Good, because the UnSub clearly had to spend a lot of time stalking his victims - he knew a lot of details of their lives, and he had spent a lot of time developing an intimate fantasy of being a part of their family in his mind. So he wouldn’t be killing again the next day. No woman was in immediate danger. It gave the team more time to find viable suspects.

Bad because they had no physical evidence, no good leads. And thus far, the profile was leading them nowhere. It felt incomplete.

They could find no real connections between the victims - their gyms, their banks, their childcare, their grocery stores. Somehow, the victims didn’t seem to have any crossover in their lives. There was no real way to say how the UnSub had met them. And someone like this - he would have interacted with them at least once in order to become obsessed and stalk them to this degree.

“Five women dead within the last three years.” Prentiss announced, starting to round up the facts that the team knew for certain. “All of them mothers, all with children under the age of five. All within the same ten square mile radius of Oregon, around Portland’s suburban neighborhoods.”

She slumped back into her chair with a tired huff, and then continued.

“The UnSub breaks into their homes through a backdoor or a back window, and somehow goes undetected in such an upscale neighborhood.” She sighed. “He kills the mothers, but he leaves their children alive. And then he calls 9-1-1 to report the death as a case of child neglect.”

“So he was likely neglected by his own mother in his childhood.” Morgan easily theorized.

“All of the victims upper-middle class, single mothers to one child with good jobs. All of them are of the same physical type.” Rossi added on. “They’re the same race, they have the hair color, they’re the same body type - all in their late twenties to early thirties. So the UnSub definitely has a type. He’s most definitely recreating a fantasy of some kind - perhaps taking out revenge on his own mother, but protecting himself. Which is why he never hurts the children.”

“Yeah, but the children are different.” Morgan replied. “Sometimes boys, sometimes girls. Some of them are biracial - he doesn’t look for a specific type in the father. He doesn’t necessarily need to see himself in the children.”

Then, as another thought occurred to him, Morgan continued on:

“Plus, the children’s ages vary from barely a year old all the way up to five - if he was looking to seek revenge on his mother, looking to protect a younger version of himself, then he would have locked in on a critical event that he needs to protect himself from. The age of the children would be more consistent, at least, because he would be looking to protect himself as he hits the age that he was most traumatized by a specific event.”

“That’s good.” Hotch nodded. “Then we know that it’s more about the mothers. He hates women at his core. Protecting the children is just a byproduct of his obsession over these women.”

“But we still have no clue how these women could be connected or how they met the UnSub.” Morgan replied, jaw stiff with frustration.

“Focus on what we do know.” Hotch reminded him.

“All of the women were killed via stabbing. They all had over a dozen stab wounds to their stomachs and genital areas.” Rossi replied. “So, he is an aggressive sexual sadist.”

“But if he hates women so much, why spend so much time in the house?” Morgan argued gently. “Every single one of these scenes has evidence that the UnSub spent hours - possibly up to a day in the house before he killed them. He cooked dinner, set the table, and made the women eat it before he killed them. Including a second place setting for a child. Some of the kids even said that ‘the scary man’ tucked them into bed and read them a story.”

He held up one of the crime scene photos that depicted the scene of the family’s place settings - a haunting scene of plates not cleaned up from dinner, with a flower vase sitting in the middle of the table with a few white flowers wilting inside of it.

“He’s right - why bother to show them the kindness of a last meal if he shows so much aggression toward them during the killing?” Prentiss added on.

“It’s a routine.” Hotch said, the thought suddenly occurring to him. “It’s likely that he chooses single mothers because he gets to play the role of the father. With the real father figure absent from the picture, it makes it easier for him to impose himself into that role. At least for a temporary amount of time.”

“It is strange.” Reid added on, clearly swimming in thought. “It’s almost like he’s courting them? Sending them gifts, showing what a good father he could be. Each of the women were sent white carnations sometime in the days before they were killed, and after the killing, he lays the flowers around their head in a halo-like fashion. It is said that carnations represent motherhood, and the white shade could depict an angelic innocence that he’s projecting onto these women.”

“So he views these women as angelic figures, yet he kills them so brutally?” Prentiss scoffed. “It just doesn’t add up.”

“Maybe he views the killing itself as a type of purification.” Reid theorized. “It’s not uncommon for killers to emotionally fetishize dead bodies and consider them more ‘pure’ than their living counterparts.”

Prentiss visibly cringed at this.

“Wait.” JJ said, looking at one of the crime scene photos with a sharp line pulling her brows together.

Everyone looked to her, waiting for her to finish this thought.

“I don’t think that the mothers were the only ones sent gifts.”

She held up the photo, showing a picture of a colorful child’s play mat in the living room. Everyone stared at the photo in confusion, and JJ sighed and began to explain.

“Look at this toy truck in the middle.” She said, pointing at something that almost blended into the background of the photo. The true focus was a large handprint - one that belonged to the killer, but he had worn gloves. “It’s wooden, it’s hand-carved, it’s old fashioned. All the other toys are plastic, brightly coloured. Remember what the UnSub said in the second 9-1-1 call?”

“‘She pretends to have her son’s best interests at heart, but she was going to let him get cancer from sucking on those cheap plastic toys.’” Reid said, repeating it word-for-word, using his impeccable memory.

“Exactly.” JJ confirmed with a nod. “Clearly the UnSub believes that he would be a good father because he can gift his child something hand-made instead of something mass produced.”

“Alright, get the crime scene techs back over there to pick up the truck, maybe he wasn’t wearing gloves when he made it and there is some slim chance he left a print on it.” Hotch said, and JJ left to call the crime scene unit.

This left the team sitting in silence for a few more moments until Reid spoke up again.

“What about preschools?” He said, suddenly coming out of a wave of thought to announce this to the room.

“What?” Prentiss prompted, wondering what on earth he was talking about.

“Preschools.” Spencer confirmed, looking across the table at her.

“We checked already, none of the victims’ children went to the same preschool.” Morgan reminded him. “Two of the kids didn’t even go to preschool.”

“Yeah, but preschools typically have large waitlists.” Spencer argued.

Naturally, all eyes in the room fell on him, waiting for him to explain.

“In the first 9-1-1 call, the UnSub said that the victim ‘shipped her son off to be cared for by strangers half the time’.” He explained, once again perfectly reciting this from memory. “What if the UnSub resents preschools and the schooling system for taking these children away from their mothers, so he’s choosing his victims off of a preschool waitlist? What if that’s where his obsession stems from because that’s where his rage stems from?”

Reid jumped up, pointing to the map he had been using to make a geographical profile.

“All of the victims live within the same school district.” He added on. “So they would be applying to the same group of preschools.”

“I’ll call Garcia.” Morgan announced.

A few minutes later, Morgan connected Garcia’s call to the comm on the center of the conference table they were working from.

“Hey, pumpkin pies.” She greeted them sweetly, as usual. “So it turns out, the preschool that Tommy Laird, and Emily Ashton, the third and the fourth victim had in common, does have a waitlist. But none of the other victims’ names were on it.”

“Come on, babygirl. I know you’re holding out on me.” Morgan said, giving a small smirk.

“Oh, my Adonis, if I don’t have your trembling anticipation, I have nothing.” Garcia giggled. “The school’s waitlist, and their applications, are handled by a firm called Gordon & Stanheight. And it turns out, they handle the applications and waitlisting for five other preschools in the area.”

“Which gives the UnSub a perfect way to pick his victims.” Morgan sighed. “The first interaction that gets him hooked might not even be in person-”

“Unless he’s picking them out of the line-up on paper and then waiting to meet them in person?” Prentiss replied. “With this type of guy, the smallest smile, a nod in his direction - that could be consent in his mind to play father to a household that’s missing one.”

“You said they handle forms for five different schools? That just widened the victim pool.” Rossi groaned.

“And the suspect pool.” Garcia added on. “The firm has thirty male employees. And I did a bit more digging - the preschool applications have ten ‘optional’ questions on the bottom that are definitely not marked as such. Questions directed at the parent filling out the form, rather than vital information about the child. Things such as: ‘what’s your favorite food?’, ‘when is your birthday?’, ‘what’s your favorite color?’, ‘do you plan on having more children?’ - typical survey schlock,”

“That would explain why the UnSub served Lisa Laird a birthday cake.” Reid sighed. “He knew it was her birthday two days before he killed her.”

“I have a feeling I’m not gonna like where this is going.” Emily sighed.

“Oh, sugar. You probably won’t.” Penelope easily agreed. “The ‘optional’ part of the forms is sold off to other companies as survey data. And those forms are seen and handled by over a thousand male employees of Gordon & Stanheight’s larger ‘data processing’ sector.”

“Well the UnSub has to be local to Portland. So narrow down the suspect list based on his last known address and go from there.” Hotch said. “Also, it would be someone who has a criminal record. Someone committing this level of violence wouldn’t be a first time offender.”

“Gotcha.” Penelope said. “Penny G, out.”

…

The team ended up raiding Gordon & Stanheight’s Portland based office.

After some pointless conversation, some threats of lawsuits, and some even larger threats of being detained for impeding an FBI investigation, the team was able to get their hands on the preschool applications. Over two-dozen boxes worth, that they would have to sort through.

So this left JJ, Reid, Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss knee deep in paper, looking for anyone who fit the UnSub’s victimology - praying that they would be able to pick out the next victim and get to her before the UnSub did.

“We’re never gonna get through these fast enough, are we?” Prentiss sighed, continuing to sift through the papers.

“We just have to go as fast as we can, and hope the UnSub sticks to his schedule.” Morgan replied. “He has to spend time stalking them, learning their routine. Even if he has chosen his victim by now, he won’t break into the house until he’s fully confident that he won’t be disrupted.”

“And the stalking helps build up the fantasy.” Reid added on. “He romanticizes them from afar, sends them gifts. It adds to his delusions of grandeur and forbidden love. The idea that he’s swooping in to become the perfect father figure for these ‘broken’ families.”

“So we’re hanging all our hopes on the idea that this psychopath needs time to ‘fall in love’ with his next victim before he kills her?” Prentiss groaned.

“Sadly, yes.” Rossi confirmed.

“It helps that most of these applications are from two-parent households.” JJ pointed out. “We can throw out anything with a second applicant on the form, because he’s only targeting single mothers.”

The rest of the conversation easily became quiet in Spencer’s ears when he saw it.

It should have been just another page among the sea of paper in his hands, but when he saw those words on the page - that name - it was like a punch to the gut. It pushed all the air out of him in seconds, it made him dizzy, made him struggle to breathe. Like a reel flashing through his mind, it brought back a flood of memories he thought he had locked away forever.

It was you.

What the hell were you doing applying for preschools?

Spencer rushed to tear this paper away from the others in order to read it more carefully.

Surely enough, the application was filled out in your handwriting. Something that had barely changed over the years. And it was all right there, laid out in front of his eyes, clear as day -

You had a son.

A son named Sebastian, who was three years old. Spencer checked the date on the form, eagerly looking for a birth date for your son. His birthday had just recently passed, actually, so he was four years old now.

And his birth date was… fuck.

He had been born eight and a half months, almost nine months exactly after the two of you had broken up. Your son had been born eight and a half months after the day you had left and Spencer had never seen you again.

One thousand, seven hundred and two days.

Four years, eight months, and two days.

It wasn’t difficult math.

Your son was the perfect age to be Spencer’s child. Was this Spencer’s child?

His hands began to shake at the very thought of it.

Is that why you had disappeared from his life with such haste? Because you knew that you were pregnant and you didn’t want Spencer to be a part of your child’s life?

Had you been keeping this from him intentionally?

He hadn’t thought about you in four long years, he had tried so hard not to. He had spent so long forcing himself not to miss you, and now he was struck with the realization that he might have a child out there with the woman he considered to be his regrettable lost love. A child he didn’t know - a child who he had missed four whole years with.

What the fuck was going on?

There were no pictures included with the application, and suddenly, Spencer found himself dying to see the boy. He wanted to know if there was any physical resemblance to himself, or if he was jumping to conclusions.

Maybe you had cheated on him. Maybe that was why you had left town and never contacted him again. Maybe the kid wasn’t his at all, maybe-

“Reid.” JJ called out gently, getting his attention.

Spencer suddenly realized that he was hyperventilating, staring down at the application with your name on it in his hand, wrinkling the paper as he squeezed it more frantically.

“Did you find something?”

…

All in all, the team found four different women who fit the victim pattern in the files - you being one of them.

So the team split up, ready to knock on each of the womens’ doors, preparing to warn them that if they received any gifts or saw any suspicious men lingering around them in the next few days, they should call. They had to hope that the UnSub wouldn’t move on from this victim pool if he saw the FBI around. But he was overly confident, he had contacted police before.

It could definitely work.

When Hotch found out that Spencer had known you, he said that Spencer should be the one to knock on your door. That you might find it comforting to hear that you and your child could possibly be in danger if it were coming from ‘an old friend’. Spencer stuttered over himself and didn’t have the words to explain that you weren’t just a good friend to him, but a romantic flame. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the team by telling everyone that the break-up had been messy, and sudden, and Spencer still wasn’t even completely sure what had caused it. He didn’t want to rip open his old wounds in front of everyone.

So he simply shut his mouth and got in the car with JJ, and they made their way toward your house.

…

“So…” JJ’s voice broke through the undulating silence of the car ride - filled by nothing but the sound of the car’s motor running and gears grinding inside Spencer’s mind as he tried to figure all of this out. “I do have to ask the obvious question,”

“What is that?” Spencer probed, slightly glad to be relieved of his own thoughts.

He wasn’t so glad when JJ pried those thoughts out of his mind and spilled them to the open air.

“Is the kid yours?” She wondered aloud. “I mean - when did you and Y/N break up?”

JJ had known you as Spencer’s girlfriend.

Come to think of it, she was probably the only person on the current field team who had some kind of a relationship with you back when you and Spencer dated.

Initially, it had been by accident. JJ had driven him home one night after a particularly long and sleepless case, and you had been coming to his apartment to drop off some books he had asked for (shortly after he had given you a key). When JJ saw you, her natural curiosity got the better of her - even more so when you stuck out your hand and introduced yourself as ‘Spencer’s girlfriend’ without hesitation.

The two of you got to talking, and JJ invited you to ‘girls night’. You met Elle and Penelope shortly after. You had become pretty good friends with the three of them before the break-up.

But Spencer had always felt secretive…. well, protective of you. He didn’t want Morgan teasing him about you, or him wanting to have ‘guy talk’ about things that occurred in the bedroom. Not when it might mean talking about intimate moments with you. Spencer had only introduced you to Gideon over coffee about three weeks before the break-up, and that felt like a lifetime ago.

Back then, having you, Elle, and Gideon leave his life all in a matter of a few months felt like hell on earth. It felt like being grabbed by his ankles and shaken for all he was worth. He really wasn’t sure that he was ready to see you again.

It had been four years.

JJ was someone he could lean on right now.

“Four years ago.” He told her, completely honest.

“And how old is the kid?” JJ asked.

“Four - four years old.” Spencer stuttered out, realizing that now as he was speaking about this very real possibility, he might be breathing more life into it.

“Oh my god.” JJ sighed. “Well… could it-? I mean…? Did the two of you?”

It took Spencer a moment to clue into what JJ was talking about. He gave her a sideways glance and she took her eyes off the road for a moment, raising her brows and giving him a pointed look.

“Please tell me you know what does and what doesn’t make a baby,” JJ groaned.

“Oh!” Spencer huffed, a small wave of embarrassment flooding him. “Yes! God, yes. I know.”

There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Spencer felt the need to clarify his answer.

“We - I mean. We…” He trailed off for a moment, clearing his throat. “We didn’t always use… protection. We were together for three years, at the time, it was on the table.”

“Kids were on the table for you back then?” JJ asked, clearly shocked by this. “I could not imagine little twenty-four year old Spence with a baby.”

“Well… it’s something I’ve always wanted.” He mumbled quietly in reply.

It was true. At the time, Spencer easily imagined himself getting married to you, having multiple kids with you. These days, seeing JJ with Henry and Will brought him the occasional underlying pang of jealousy - but since breaking up with you, there hadn’t been anyone else in Spencer’s life that he could have imagined having kids with. He thought that he was going to be alone and childless for the rest of his life. That the dream was long dead for him.

“Hey - then, maybe this is a blessing in disguise?” JJ posed. “If we hadn’t been looking through those forms because of this UnSub, you never would have found Y/N again. You wouldn’t even know this baby exists.”

There was another thing that JJ was dying to ask - something she held back because she felt like it was a touch too personal. (Even if ‘too personal’ was basically how the BAU team lived - knee deep in each other’s business, all the time).

She wanted to know why you had a baby, a baby that Spencer had very likely fathered, and you hadn’t contacted him about it. Spencer seemed entirely clueless about the child’s existence before now, and JJ knew that because of what his own father had been like, he wouldn’t just blow off a kid that was his if he knew that one was out there in the world.

So why hadn’t you told Spencer about the baby?

“What if the kid isn’t yours?” JJ wondered aloud.

Maybe that would unburden him. She knew that either way, Spencer would fight to protect you from the UnSub. But if the kid wasn’t his - he would walk away again, and he wouldn’t have to be hung up on the heartbreak of dealing with his ex just to parent a child together.

“Honestly… I think I’ll be more heartbroken if I find out that he’s not even mine.” Spencer told her, his voice quiet and already lulling with that disappointment.

That was not something JJ had considered. She frowned as she saw the sadness paint across Spencer’s face.

“One thing at a time, alright?”

…

When they pulled into your driveway, Spencer’s mind immediately began churning.

It was a nice house. It was a beautiful, quiet neighborhood. The front yard was clean and trimmed and there was a silver SUV in the driveway with a ‘baby on board’ sticker in the rear window. There was a rocking chair on the porch, but he didn’t see many children’s toys out front on the lawn. He guessed that was a good thing. Letting children play in the front where they could run into the street and potentially get hit by a car was too dangerous. He was glad to already see signs that you were a good mother.

Spencer felt like he was opening up a book halfway, desperately wanting to be filled in on the previous chapters while having missed so much. Still wanting to read ahead and see more.

He had already missed so much of your son’s life. He had missed you. That was something forming the biggest knot in his gut. He had truly missed you. The times he had allowed himself to think of you over these past few years - he had missed you so dearly.

And now the two of you likely had a child together.

Craning his neck to get a better look, desperately trying to take in more information, Spencer’s eyes were wide and hungry as JJ put the car in park by the curb in front of your house. As Spencer reached for the passenger side door handle, JJ’s phone rang.

“I have to take this.” She sighed. “You go ahead.”

She gave Spencer a distinct look that said ‘I know you need a minute alone with Y/N’, and he nodded, stepping out of the vehicle while she greeted whoever was on the other line. He smoothed down his tie - for once in his whole life, he was actually worried about how he looked. Only because he knew that he was going to see you. Perhaps he had only ever felt like this before going on his first date with you.

He had such a strange lashing of emotions going through him as he approached the door. Fear, anxiety, anticipation. Longing.

He truly had tried so hard to lock away his feelings for you when you had left. He had tried to move on. He had considered, briefly, in passing, dating other women. There had been times when someone else caught his eye, and he considered asking her out on a date. Morgan had offered to ‘set him up’. Penelope had offered too, telling him that he deserved to ‘get back out there’.

Whenever she asked about you, his heart freshly cracked open.

At one point, she had advised him to write a long, Shakespearian letter, pouring out his heart to you in an effort to get you back - one which she would mail. (Because of course, she could get your new address in a heartbeat.) But he didn’t want to experience the heartbreak all over again if you ignored him. He didn’t want to sit, waiting by the mailbox every single day like a lost dog, waiting for you to write him back in return.

You had disappeared from his life for a reason. Just like everyone else had. For a long time, Spencer convinced himself that he was simply meant to end up alone.

Perhaps if he had known about your son - a child that could very well be his - then he might have felt differently about getting Penelope to contact you.

But now he was standing at your front door, his fist shaking as he raised his hand to knock.

He let out a sharp breath and steadied himself, giving three swift, firm knocks against the door and then trying to wait patiently. His heart thumped inside of his throat, and it felt like forever.

“Sorry!” Your voice called out from behind the door, muffled. “Sorry, I almost didn’t hear you. I was-”

You cut off your own words as you opened the door - the moment you caught Spencer’s eye and recognized it was him, pure shock fell across your features, and you froze on the spot.

You were just as stunning as ever. You had barely aged at all - your hair was different than the last time he had seen you, of course. And you were dressed casually - wearing a simple hooded sweatshirt with a drawstring and a pair of jeans with some fuzzy slipper boots on. But pale blue looked so good on you.

So much like the pale blue dress you had worn on your first date with him.

You were breath-taking.

“Y/N.” He greeted you, his throat dry already.

You didn’t say anything, simply continuing to stare him down with wide-eyed shock.

Seeing you again, Spencer couldn’t help but to think back to that first date.

The first night that he knew he was in love with you.

…

He had taken you to see the Virginia Symphony Orchestra.

It was Spencer’s idea of a good time - and it ended up being one of the most beautiful, most romantic, most unique first dates that you had ever been on.

It was difficult not to fall for him with the beautiful music in the air and his glossy eyes, so sickeningly thick with affection, staring you down all night.

Afterwards, the two of you stopped to get ice cream at a small shop that was a short walk down from the orchestra. And now you were both enjoying your ice cream as you walked along in the cool night air - enjoying the peace and quiet and the gentle breeze in the darkness.

It was a perfect night.

Spencer could think of no better way to spend it than with you. The yellow bulbs of the street lights practically cast a glow onto your skin, the mulberry lipstick now worn off your lips as you brought the pink spoon to your mouth and licked up your sweet treat.

His stomach was churning with nerves. Joyous nerves.

And as per usual, when he was nervous - he rambled.

“You know, Bach actually married his cousin.” He said, spouting off the first thing that came to mind.

You told him that Bach was one of your favorite composers - it’s why he had thought to bring you to the orchestra on a date in the first place.

“I did not know that.” You giggled. “So what? Was it like a ‘third cousin twice removed’ type situation?”

Spencer found himself grinning at the fact that you actually engaged him in the conversation, rather than staring at him with an odd look for bringing up such a strange topic.

“Not quite.” He replied. “They had the same surname before marriage.”

“Oh, ew.” You chuckled again, giving a shudder at the thought of this.

Spencer knew it was an odd topic to discuss on a date, and if he rambled on too much, it might freak you out - but he couldn’t stop himself. His mouth ran away with him, and he continued.

“He married Maria Barbara Bach, and they had seven children together.” He told you. “His sons, Wilhelm Friedemann and Carl Philipp Emanuel became composers and musicians much like their father, which was actually carrying on a legacy started by Bach’s father himself - who was a seventh generation musician. He was the one who taught Bach the organ from a very young age.”

“Why don’t people play the organ anymore?” You wondered aloud. “Except in churches, I guess. The organ rocks.”

Spencer’s brain began rocketing off at the fact that you had asked him a question. A question he could answer.

“The organ has actually long been associated with divinity.” He replied. “The instrument rose in popularity alongside Catholicism throughout the eighteenth century, and in a sense, that was part of what made Bach a sort of ‘rockstar’ of his time. The religious references in his work, and his mastery of the organ - all of it made him incredibly popular at the time because it caused him to be favored by the church and by royal figures associated with the church.”

Spencer gleamed a large smile, heavily enjoying that he could share these facts with you. He thought for certain that any moment, you would change the subject or imply that he should stop talking. But instead, you engaged the conversation more.

“Religious references?” You questioned, wondering what he meant by this.

“Yes!” Spencer grinned, suddenly very excited by the explanation behind this. “Even in his secular music, Bach would often incorporate the acronym ‘INJ’, a Latin abbreviation that means ‘In Nomine Jesu’, or ‘in the name of Jesus’. It was something he put on all of his manuscripts.”

You grinned back. You found it fascinating that being around Spencer for such short periods of time caused you to learn so many things. It easily made you want to be around him more.

“Interesting.” You replied.

“And his talent on the organ was seen as something that made him ‘divine’ at the time. Divine enough to be worthy of performing for royalty.” Spencer added on. “In 1708, Bach got a position as the court organist in Weimer for Duke Wilhelm. And later when he requested early release from this position, desiring to go work for Prince Leopold of Koethen, the Duke actually had him arrested and put in jail for several weeks in 1716.”

Spencer laughed at this mental image - the composer being put in jail.

“Ooh, harsh.” You sighed. “But I guess Dukes have too much power.”

Spencer let out another bright laugh at this.

“And see, the interesting thing is, Bach later became the conductor of the court orchestra, in which Prince Leopold played.”

“So he got his wish,” You replied with a smile.

“And see-”

Spencer set off on another rant again, and you couldn’t help yourself. You put your spoon into the cup of ice cream and then you used your now free hand to reach out and grab Spencer by his tie - you pulled him toward you before he could get anymore words out, and he let out a shocked, choked-off sound when you pressed your mouth into his.

He sighed gently against your lips, and unconsciously dropped his own melting chocolate cone on the ground by his feet as his limp hands drifted toward your waist. He was dizzy, and now every single fact he had ever known about any composer had vanished from his head. In that moment, standing under a random street lamp on a random sidewalk somewhere - all he knew was the soft, pillowy feeling of your lips and the cool night breeze against his skin.

It was perfect. You were perfect.

You found his intelligence and the enthusiasm with which he spoke to be so utterly irresistible. You had been on so many dates with men before where they had acted like talking about their interests was a chore. Where they had made it seem like the whole thing was simply a routine, waiting for the end of the night so they could get into your pants. And for them, that’s what it probably was.

But Spencer was nothing like that.

He spoke about everything with such intense passion - and you couldn’t resist the urge to try and suck that very passion off his lips.

When you were forced to pull back slightly, your lungs crying out for oxygen, Spencer let out a gentle moan and began puffing out sweet little pants across your chin as he tried to catch his breath. You kept a hold of his tie, wanting to keep him close, and he stayed there, gently pressing his forehead against yours.

“That was… wow.” He sighed.

“I didn’t think I would ever find you at a loss for words, Doctor Reid.” You replied with a giggle.

“Well, I - you - wow.”

It was all he could muster, causing you both to break down into laughter.

Back then - everything had been perfect.

He had no clue where it all went so wrong.

...

Continue reading: Chapter Two - Liar

#sundrop writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic

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obsessivevoidkitten · 12 days

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Caught In His Web

Yandere Male Drider x Gender Neutral Reader CW: Noncon, painless/gentle noncon, venom, drugging, biting, light bondage, webbing, drider, spider-hybrid, oral sex, oviposition, dead animals wrapped in webbing, stalking, underwear sniffing, general yandere behavior. Word Count: 2.7k (A drider is technically an elf-spider formed as a punishment by Lolth, but this is just a human-spider hybrid with magic. Not technically a drider. But "spidertaur" just sounds off. Hope you enjoy, this was technically the first fic I started though I only resumed and finished it today)

You were an herbalist, you took plants and herbs from the wild fields, forests, and hills surrounding your small humble cottage. You expertly prepared the ingredients that you gathered and imbued them with the tiny bit of healing magic that you possessed. Magic in humans was very rare and your abilities and magical education were somewhat limited, but your potions, salves, ointments and remedies sold well enough in the town about six miles away on the other side of the forest.

Twice a month you made the journey there and back to sell your healing supplies. You made enough to survive on, and also enough to get you through the colder months when the healing plants you used did not grow. It was a modest life, but you were happy enough. Well, except for one thing... you were being followed...

At first, starting almost a year ago, you couldn’t get past the feeling that you were being watched from the shadows of the forest, occasionally you could swear you could catch glimpses of a large shape moving out of the corner of your eye or could hear something moving through the branches. You convinced yourself it was all in your imagination, or at least just some innocent woodland creature moving in the woods. For a month or so your denial was easy enough. You live by the forest, of course the animals must simply be getting more used to your non-threatening presence and getting a bit closer than they had previously. Everything was perfectly fine.

But then, about three months ago, things started to escalate. At first it was odd, but still explainable by the functions of nature. There were bundled up small dead animals bound in webbing left around in the places you most frequently gathered herbs and flowers. Okay, that is creepy, it must be some large spiders that are attracted to the birds and mice that are attracted to the insects drawn by the plants, perfectly normal and natural. You wish it would be perfectly normal and natural a bit farther away from you, but there was clearly nothing to worry about... except the fact that there are apparently a lot of spiders big enough to kill birds and mice in close proximity to you...

You could have dealt with the creepy large webs and the implied but unseen giant spiders, but then just a few days ago the bundles started being left on your porch for you to dispose of each morning. The webbed up animals were completely un-dessicated, killed and then just… left… A spider would not drop food for later in such an odd place. And what’s more the webbing now contained flowers woven into it, the flowers you most commonly used in your trade. No longer could you maintain any notions that the glimpses you saw from the forest, the noises you heard, and the web bundles were just coincidence.

The nearest humans lived too far away to keep up such a well maintained and menacing prank/threat, so you conclude that there must be some foul creature or malicious spirit that is stalking you. The past few days you were terrified and on the verge of freaking out, but you managed to maintain your calm composure. Besides, it has not escalated since then and today was the day that you went to the closest village to peddle your medical supplies, perhaps you could purchase some wards to protect yourself from spirits and talk to the local trappers, hunters, and elders to see if they know of anything dangerous lurking in the area.

You opened the door with a broom to sweep your doorstep, where you knew the web ball would be left. You shuddered as you swept it into the bushes and out of sight. So gross. You then went about your daily chores, and put the final touches on a last minute tincture. You put all your various vials, bottles, and other containers full of your merchandise into a large backpack that you put on before setting off on your way out the door and into the long path through the woods that would lead you to the village.

You started off at a brisk pace, there was no time to enjoy what would otherwise be a pleasant and leisurely stroll on a cool breezy day. You gripped the handle of the dagger in your belt tightly, in constant fear of what could potentially lurk just out of sight. You were paranoid and hyper fixated on watching the trees and path ahead for any possible signs of danger. So fixated that you completely neglected to watch where you were going. You did not notice a large bump in the path and tripped, you tried to get up but your ankle was sprained and you ended up flopping back over on your side.

This was bad, you were probably at least two miles into the forest unable to walk. Utterly helpless, with no more than a small dagger that in your inexperienced hands was mostly just for a false sense of security. But you couldn’t just lay here, you turned back towards the direction of your home and started ever so slowly dragging yourself.

You tried to do this as quietly as possible to not draw any attention to yourself, but you heard skittering and rustling in the bushes ahead of you.

Futilely, you hoped that it was just an animal or even the wind, but it wasn’t The being that had been lurking in the shadows and stoking your fears finally came forth.

A large drider came out of the trees. Like a centaur he was a creature that was human enough from the waist up but instead of a horse below that he was a giant white spider with black markings. From far enough away, and if the spider half were not in view, he could have easily been mistaken for a striking woman. His figure was slender and his hair was long and shimmered beautifully like silver in the rays of light that penetrated through the forest canopy.

But that is where the illusion ended for he had two fangs and four red eyes. He spoke in a cautious voice, as if trying to placate an animal that he feared may lash out.

“I’m Umzerth. I won’t hurt you, I promise.

You looked at him, trembling in dread and unable to take your eyes away as you scrambled backwards.

“Please no.” You repeated desperately in a frantic whisper.

The drider looked both concerned at your predicament and hurt by your reaction at seeing him.

“Please… darling… you’re hurt… just let me help you…”

“No, j-just stay back…”

“But your leg needs tending to my sweetling, I’ve never hurt you. I have proven I can take care of you by giving you all those plants you like. And food with them!”

“I am not interested in you taking care of me! Please just leave me alone… I have healing supplies with me…” Your voice faltered and it was clear that you were terrified of him.

Umzerth looked dejected, but he wasn’t going to give up. This was the first time he had properly met you and you were in pain. Surely you would accept him as your mate. He was so powerful and could take care of you. That’s what little humans wanted in a mate surely. He just had to calm you down and prove it.

The spider took a few tentative steps closer. You pulled your dagger from your belt and pointed it towards him. Your hand shook, more evidence of the fear coursing through you. He knew you’d never hold such a weapon to him if you were in your right mind. Maybe some of his venom would soothe you.

“Please put that away and let me help you sweetheart, my home is very close by. Your healing salves won’t work as fast as my methods will.”

You backed away a bit more, still holding up the dagger.

“I’ll take my chances.”

He moved with lightning speed and plucked the dagger from your hand, tossing it far away and out of sight. He spoke more forcefully.

“It would still take days to heal that foot. I can see the bruising from here. There are wild animals everywhere and I am not going to my beloved die out here because they were too damn stubborn.”

You cry out briefly as he bit down on your neck before an unnatural calm took your mind and your body went limp before fading into a relaxed sleep. His venom wasn’t at all deadly, not to humans, spiders, or driders. For a human it would merely give them a nice sleep. Which is exactly what you needed while he attended to your injury.

As you began stirring from your sleep you heard your name whispered. You woke to find your leg completely free of any pain, wrapped in silvery webbing. You could feel the thrum of magic within it. Much stronger than anything you could manage. Well… at least that proved he really wasn’t going to kill you.

“Are you feeling better, my little wild flower? I watched to make sure you slept well… I did take a break to catch you some food.”

The room you were in was unfamiliar, it looked to be a dwelling carved into stone. Likely at the base of the hills nearby. You were in a soft hammock made of silk. There was a wooden table next to you. Hand-carved. Umzerth apparently had grown accustomed to making his own furniture. Atop it lay a dead rat covered in webbing.

You recoiled at the sight.

“What’s wrong sweetling, it’s all predigested! You just have to bite and suck it out… don’t you like it?”

You didn’t say anything, but hopped up and bolted towards the exit. The ground was rough and cold on your bare feet, but you gave it no notice. You had to get away from this freak.

Umzerth caught you before you even reached the door.

“Let me go! I want to go home! Please!” You began sobbing and begging. Even if you were in no immediate danger he still frightened you. Thrust into a strange place with a terrifying creature and expected to eat… that… It was all too much.

“You ARE home my sweet flower!”

He caressed you oh so tenderly and claimed your lips with his own before setting you down on a cushioned chair that was far too small for him. Evidently he had prepared for your arrival for quite some time. Utterly disgusted with having been kissed by the monster, you wiped your lips.

“Are you upset with the food? Do humans not like that? I can learn to prepare human foods for you…”

He paced back and forth for a while with a nervous expression on his face, he wanted to make you happy and it was clear that you weren’t. How could he please you? He’d learn how to do that cooking thing he had watched humans do, but how could he make you like him more immediately?

Other than food that was to your liking hadn’t he provided everything a mate should? Shelter. Medical treatment.

Oh of course!

Sex!

You were being a whiny little human because you probably were desperate to copulate! He knew you were single since he had never seen another person at your dwelling, you probably hadn’t had a good dick like his in you in a long time, if ever.

You’d probably be all shy and bratty about it though. Natural first time jitters. He knew what would calm you down.

He scooped you up from the chair and, despite your struggles, gave your neck a little nip. Just a fraction of a full dose. You went limp again, but didn’t fall asleep this time. Your limbs felt too heavy and you felt really relaxed. You couldn’t muster the energy or will to fight anymore.

Umzerth gently placed you on a high stone shelf so that he was eye level with your crotch.

“I know just what you need to make you happy sweetling~”

You only groaned absently in response.

The drider gently peeled off your pants and underwear, taking it to his face and inhaling your scent deeply before placing it aside. The smell had him aroused in an instant. His erect cock poked out of a slit at his waist just below where his two halves met. Big and somewhat slimy.

He rubbed your soft thighs.

“Such a soft fragile thing.” He whispered.

He kissed up your thighs, occasionally giving them a careful nip, not enough to draw blood. He attended to you with a sloppy tongue and beneath the effects of his venom all you could feel was pleasure. You grinded into his face as you weakly stroked his hair, grabbing it harder when he brought you to climax.

He licked you clean as you shuddered.

“Ah, you fed me so well for worshiping at the altar between your thighs~”

You were even more relaxed now than when he had just bitten you, and just as powerless to resist. The spider picked you up carefully and shared another dominating kiss with you. This time sliding his tongue and brushing it against yours, smearing your taste buds with your very own flavor mixed with his saliva. A string of which connected your lips for a moment as he pulled away.

Then he held you as he positioned your body in front of his cock.

“Oh sweetling, you’ll look even prettier with a bellyful of my eggs~”

His words elicited just the smallest spark of worry in your envenomated mind, though it was quickly squashed when you felt his cock smear warm pre at your entrance. While holding you with one strong hand he slipped a finger in and out of you, slowly adding more one at a time.

Drooling and unable to articulate any thoughts, you moved back against his fingers.

At that he decided you were ready. He slipped his wet cock into you easily and with no pain at all, he had been very careful to make sure he pleasured his delicate flower.

He held you by your hips, gently rocking you back and forth along his shaft. You occasionally moaned softly. It felt so nice. So perfect. Like you were made just for this. Why had you been resisting again?

Umzerth started to go just a little harder, sure that his love could take it. With each thrust you let out a little gasp of pleasure. His cock fit itself into you beautifully, hitting every inch and making you feel full and sated in a way you never had before.

The fill of your shivering body as you had another climax pulled Umzerth over the edge with you. Powerful shudders racking the both of you in unison as his cock deposited small eggs deep inside you. Soft yet firm, they attached themselves to your insides. They would fertilize as they absorbed a bit of your DNA, then they’d fall out after a few days and then hatch a few weeks later.

Having deposited so many inside of his darling, your belly looked larger. He lay you in his web with him in the corner, rubbing your belly in awe. You smiled up at him and idly played with his soft hair.

“I’ll be back soon my love, I am going to get you something to eat.”

He wrapped you up in his webbing to keep you cozy before giving you a bit more venom to send you off into a short sleep. Then he covered the entrance to his den with his strongest webbing to make sure that you were completely safe while he was away. By the time you awoke he would have a good meal fit for any human. Then you would have nothing at all to be grumpy about.

This time he’d swipe a meal from the village, of course he’d leave them a gold coin in compensation since humans seemed to like those, and after that you could teach him!

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