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luveline · 3 months

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𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem

cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky.

You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely.

Total quiet.

“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?”

“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?”

“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?”

“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…”

“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?”

“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.”

“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.”

He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh.

“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated.

Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry.

“Spencer?” you ask quietly.

“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?”

“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?”

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups.

“Where are you?”

After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him.

He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.”

Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?”

“Where was I?”

“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed.

“Still where?”

“Did you hit your head?”

“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.”

“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk.

“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.”

“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.”

“…What?”

You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.”

“I annoy people.”

“You don’t annoy me.”

You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here.

You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?”

“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection.

“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?”

“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly.

“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?”

“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.”

“Hi Milly,” a new voice says.

You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room.

Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark.

You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly.

“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!”

His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer.

“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask.

You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again.

“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.”

He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath.

“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers.

“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year.

He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.”

“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.”

“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.”

You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!”

You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.

Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity.

“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek.

“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.”

You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly.

“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says.

“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway.

“I don’t want to be alone forever.”

“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates?

In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess.

You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”

His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.”

“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol.

“She kind of looked like you.”

You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.”

“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.”

“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” he says.

“Do you?”

“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Is that why you make all your jokes?”

“What jokes, babe?”

“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.”

You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?”

“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.”

“Spencer, you remember everything.”

He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.”

You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him.

You’re happy to.

“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”

“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled.

“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse.

“You look so cute,” he says mournfully.

You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally.

“Can I come home with you?” he asks.

That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.”

— —

Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.”

“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.”

“So you want three?”

He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.”

Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time.

You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?”

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him.

You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory.

He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that.

The avocado is making him feel sick.

“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?”

“I think I'm gonna throw up.”

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes.

You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button.

“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.”

“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.”

Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”

“But it’s you.”

“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”

“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now.

You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.

But you’re perfect, he’d said.

To you. And you’re perfect to me.

“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say.

You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again.

You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.”

He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do.

The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…

“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask.

Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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smileysuh · 7 months

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ghostie

🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. As one am rolls around, you start to realize that maybe tonight you won’t get a call. He is a frat boy, and this is Halloween weekend. You’re disappointed as you get into bed, frowning as you scroll on your phone, hoping that if you wait another five minutes, maybe he’ll catch you. Five minutes turns into ten, turns into fifteen, and you find your eyes beginning to shut. You’re starting to understand how much you truly have come to depend on Ghostie as part of your nightly ritual. It hurts not to get a call from your favourite voice-modulated anonymous frat boy.

tw/cw. yandere/stalker subthemes, unknown caller, weed use, multiple reader orgasms, big dick!Johnny, oral, pussy eating, blowjob, deep throating, spit as lube, fingering, hand riding, dacryphilia, praise, dirty talk, cum/fullness kink, unprotected sex, heavy grinding, dick bulge, creampie, rough groping, slight restraint, size kink, submissive reader, subspace, dumbification, hair pulling, finger sucking, etc… I pet names: (hers) Tiny, good girl, pretty girl. (his) Ghostie.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 15k

🍭 aus. uni/frat au, yandere subthemes, Halloween, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. this might just be the best John fic I've ever written, or maybe I just need therapy

Sunday

You pause your movie when your phone rings and you look down at the screen. The number is unknown, and you briefly consider not even answering it. However, you’ve had two job interviews in the past week, and you don’t want to miss any opportunities, so with a sigh, you bring your phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Tiny, how’s your night going?”

Definitely not a prospective employer. Your sorority gave you the name Tiny during first year, something to do with the ‘tiny’ shots you always want to take, and only those within the Greek system use it on you. On top of the Greek-specific term of endearment, the man on the other end of the line is using a voice modulator of some sort, and it makes it impossible for you to identify him.

Your curiosity is sparked.

“Who is this?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You sigh, leaning back against your bed and setting your laptop to the side. “I get that Scream is having a comeback, but this whole ‘calling a girl and being mysterious’ thing won’t get you laid anytime soon.”

“Are you sure about that?” You can hear a hint of laughter in the man’s voice.

“If you’re not going to tell me who you are, I’ll hang up.”

“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” There’s a pause then, “Let’s just say, a mutual friend gave me your number. They thought we’d hit it off.”

“Whoever this ungendered mutual friend is, I doubt they expected you to call me with a voice modulator and act out a Ghost Face fantasy. I get that Halloween is a week away, but come on… you can’t be serious about this.”

“I am serious. Come on Tiny, live a little.”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you, Mister Ghost Face.”

“I’ve got good reason to be, trust me on that.”

You let out a deep sigh, going through your roster of men who might think this sort of thing would be funny. “Yunho? Is this you getting high again?”

“Wrong frat, but good guess. I didn’t know Alpha Tappa Zeta’s star quarterback was a stoner, thanks for the info, Tiny.”

“Shit,” you mutter to yourself. You hadn’t meant to throw Yunho under the bus like that.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone about his… habits. That would be hypocritical of me.”

You search your mind for the stoners you know. Ones who would have the balls to call you like this.

“Do you want to take another guess? I’ll give you three chances. You have two more.”

Aside from ATZ, you spend a lot of time with Sigma Veta Tau. Soonyoung is a well-known blunt roller in the fraternity system, but he wouldn’t do a charade like this. He’s very open about hitting on you any time you’re at one of his parties.

“Jeonghan?” you ask.

“Last guess, Tiny.”

He doesn’t confirm or deny if you’ve gotten the frat right, but you can’t really see any other SVT members who would fit this mysterious man’s profile.

Your mind wanders to Nu Chi Theta. They’ve got quite a few weed lovers there, and you’ve been invited into many closed-room smoke sessions with the dirty NCT boys.

There’s Yuta, and he’d definitely have the gall to entertain a flirtation like this. However, you don’t know of any mutual friends who would ever set you up with him. With another sigh of irritation, you throw out the last name on your shortlist of stoner acquaintances.

“Hyuck? Please tell me this isn’t you.”

“Close but no cigar.”

“I don’t like this game.”

“You’re not supposed to like it, but it is entertaining, don’t you think?”

“What’s your angle with all of this?” you question. “If you’re not going to tell me who you are, then what’s the point of calling?”

The line is silent for a few moments. “I guess… I just wanted to talk to you a little, is that so bad?”

Your heart softens, if only momentarily. “Then grow some balls and ask me out like a real man.”

“Where would be the fun in that?” The mystery man lets out a short chuckle, and your irritation only grows.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really annoying?”

“A few times actually.”

“Well, you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met and I haven’t even met you.”

“Yes, you have.”

“God, I’m tired of this. Goodnight.”

You don’t even wait for an answer, you simply hang up.

Despite trying to get back to your movie, you can’t get the mystery man out of your head. When you go to bed you can’t even sleep, your mind completely full of all the possibilities of who your caller could have been.

You’ll have to do some digging tomorrow. You can’t not figure out who this guy is- and you know just the fratboy to give you all the details you could need.

Monday

Mark Lee is always fifteen minutes early, even when it comes to an 8am class. You feel like shit after tossing and turning all night, so when you slide into the seat next to him in the back of the class, he gives you a once over and his lips part in shock.

“Are you okay?”

“No, Mark, I’m not okay,” you snap, regretting it a moment later- after all, Mark’s not the one doing this to you. “Someone called me from an unknown number last night. A frat guy, I’m not sure who. He was using this voice modulator-”

“That sounds hella sketchy.”

“Super sketchy,” you agree.

“I know it’s October and everything, but that’s a weird way to hit on a girl.”

“That’s what I said!” Mark always understands you. “He said a mutual friend gave him my number, thought we’d be cute together or something- whoever it was, I need to strangle them.”

“Is this friend a girl or a guy?”

“Mystery man wouldn’t tell me,” you groan.

“So… this dude could be literally anyone.”

“Not Yunho from Alpha Tappa Zeta, Jeonghan from Sigma Veta Tau, and not your roommate Hyuck. The guy gave me three guesses,” you explain, “the hint is that he’s a stoner.”

“Lots of frat guys are stoners.”

“Exactly,” you sigh, leaning back in your seat.

“What are you going to do if he calls you again?” Mark asks. “This kind of feels like stalker behavior.”

“It does,” you admit. “But at the same time, he calls me Tiny, and he says we’ve met before- when I asked what he even got out of the phonecall he said he just wanted to ‘talk to me a little,’ which, I don’t know, for some reason I feel like he’s not a stalker.”

Mark gives you a look that says ‘You’re crazy,’ and after listening to everything that just spewed out of your own mouth, maybe you kind of agree with him.

“So if he calls you again…” Mark reasks his earlier question, one you’d chosen to ignore.

But you can’t ignore it now, and you let out a deep breath.

“If he calls again… We’ll see what happens.”

“Tiny-”

“Mark,” you counter, knowing he’s about to chastise you. But you don’t want to hear it. If even he doesn’t have any idea of who your mystery caller could be, you simply can’t give up. If you never find out who this ‘Ghost Face’ dude is, you’ll feel unsolved for the rest of your life and you know it.

“Look, I’ll ask around a little,” Mark concedes.

You let out a squeal of delight, throwing your arms around your closet fratboy friend. He lets out a chuckle, gently squeezing you back.

Mark’s a good guy.

If only you were into good guys and not sleazy stoners calling you while getting a hard-on for being Ghost Face.

Monday pt 2

It’s nine o'clock and you’re starting to get tired while you study. You’re in need of a distraction, so when your phone rings with an unknown number, your heart practically jumps into your throat.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Tiny.”

“Wow, Mister Ghost Face,” you laugh, twirling in your spinny chair, “two nights in a row. You must really like me, huh?”

The laugh he lets out sounds genuine, even though his voice is obscured still. For some reason, the noise makes you grin, and you can’t believe you’re actually kind of having fun with this.

“I do like you,” the mystery man confirms. “Tell me about your day.”

“Tell you about my day?” You’re in shock.

“Uh huh.”

“No teasing or nothing? No three guesses about your identity?”

“I’ll tell you what,” he lets out a sigh, “like you said, Halloween is in a week. If you keep letting me call you until then, I’ll reveal myself when you come to the party.”

“The party?” you repeat. “You make it sound like there’s only one frat party on Halloween.”

“Only one worth going to.”

“Is that so?” He’s so cocky- why does that turn you on?

“Yup. In fact, I know you agree with me on this, because the past two Halloweens, you’ve come to my frat.”

Your body freezes. He’s just given you a massive hint-

“So you’re an NCT boy?”

“Wouldn’t call myself a boy, and neither would you if you saw what's in my pants.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, not sure how to even respond to the suggestive comment he’s just made.

The man on the other end of the line lets out a chuckle. “Sorry, I’m two blunts deep. I should watch what I say to you, that's why I asked about your day.”

“You don’t have to- watch what you say, I mean.”

“Yeah?” You can almost picture him leaning back in a chair, a large half-chub growing in his pants- “Are you getting horny from a mystery man on your phone? Dirty girl.”

“Dirty guy,” you counter, “trying to entice me by saying your dick is big.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

“I’m intrigued,” you admit, “but not only because of your cock.”

“It’s a nice cock.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you about my day,” you sidestep. “Had an early class with Mark Lee, you must know Mark.”

“Of course.”

“Well, he has no clue who you could be.”

“You talked about me.”

You can hear him smiling.

“I bet you couldn’t even sleep last night. Too busy trying to figure out who I am.”

Okay, maybe he is a bit of a stalker. Or maybe he just knows you well… who the fuck is this guy?

“Stop being so cocky,” you insist.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Mark told me you’re probably a stalker, said I should maybe block your number.”

“I don’t have a number, if I did, that would be too easy for you. I’m an unknown caller… can you even block unknown callers?”

“I guess we’ll find out when I block you.”

“Won’t happen though. What did you do after your class with Mark?”

“Are you really that interested in my day?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t interested.”

He’s a cocky softy, who would have imagined.

You wonder what you ever did to make this guy so sweet on you- you’ve dated men who don’t even care to ask you how your day went, and this guy is out here doing it practically for free.

“Classes were okay, my sorority had a little fundraiser at lunch, we baked cupcakes.”

“They were good cupcakes.”

“Wait…” your stomach churns a little. “You stopped by?”

“I’m a sucker for cupcakes, and how cute your butt looks in blue jeans.”

You search your memory, counting how many NCT boys came through around lunch. You realize that there were far too many for it to do any good in deciphering which one is the man you’re currently talking to.

“Did we talk?”

“You talked to everyone who bought something. I’m not special.”

Except… he kind of is special, in a way you can’t truly explain… not yet anyways.

“Maybe you are a stalker,” you decide.

“I can promise you I’m not, but I bet you’d be kind of into it if I was.”

This guy makes you feel such conflicting emotions, you’re not sure how to even handle him.

“Look, I was studying when you called-”

“Right, you should get back to that.”

“I should.”

“Sleep tight, Tiny. It’s been nice talking to you.”

Part of you wants to return the sentiment, it feels second nature, but the words stop on your tongue. In all fairness, it hasn’t been particularly nice talking to the mystery Ghost Face guy.

Instead of saying anything else, you simply hit him with a “Bye,” and you hang up the phone.

However, you don’t get back to studying, you immediately call Mark.

He sounds groggy as he says “Hello?”

“Did I wake you?”

“No.”

“I just got a call from that guy again. He’s definitely one of your frat brothers, and he’s high right now.”

“That doesn’t narrow it down,” Mark sighs. “We sort of uh… all got high at the fire after dinner.”

“Mark Lee!” you screech.

“Sorry, sorry!” Mark groans. “I’ll uh… ask around some more. We’ll figure out who this dude is.”

“And if we don’t… he said he’d tell me who he is at your frat Halloween bash at the end of the week.”

It’s Monday now, and the party is on Saturday. That means you’ll only have to wait a few days… you can hold out for a few days… can’t you?

Tuesday

You read over the email a third time, but it doesn’t make anything better. The words ‘We regret to inform you that you have not been chosen for the position’ make your eyes begin to well with tears.

Quickly exiting your phone, you grab your things. You refuse to cry in the middle of the library-

The bathroom will have to do the trick, and you hurry to get there, holding back the choked sob that longs to slip out of you.

You’d thought for sure this interview would land you a job on campus. The interview had gone well, or so you’d thought.

You don’t even know why you’re getting so upset about this.

There’s just something so devastating about rejection.

You get to the bathroom quickly, shutting yourself into a stall before you allow the tears to fall again. You cradle your face in your hands, allowing the sadness to overwhelm you.

It’s important to have a good cry every now and again, and you definitely need this.

Your cries, however, are interrupted by your phone ringing in your pocket. Wiping at your face, you reach for the device, lifting it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Are you okay?”

“I really don’t have time for this right now, Ghost-” you groan, closing your eyes at the familiar voice-modulated sound.

“You do have time,” he insists. “Tell me what happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just saw you running through the library. Looked like you were crying.”

“I wasn’t crying!” you nearly yell.

“Liar. Come on, Tiny, let Ghostie make you feel better.”

The affectionate-sounding nickname prompts you to wipe your eyes. “Are you sure you’re not a stalker?”

“I was in the library, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Was?”

“I’m gone now, can’t have you figuring out who I am before Halloween.”

“Would it really be so bad if I did?” you question. “It would make me feel better.”

“Look at you, using your bad experience to try to swindle me,” you hear him laugh, and there are more sounds now, as if he’s walking across campus. “Seriously, Tiny, tell me what’s going on.”

“Do you always walk around campus with a voice modulator?”

“It’s an app on my phone babe, now answer my question.”

“You didn’t ask a question, you commanded me to tell you what happened, and I’m not taking commands right now.”

He sighs. “Will you please tell me what’s making you cry?”

Your lower lip trembles. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing that hurts you is stupid.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“It looked like you needed a friend.”

“You’re not my friend. You’re some guy who got my number and gets hard by pretending to be Ghost Face from Scream.”

“I could be your friend. Could be more than your friend. And I’m not hard right now. Not after seeing you cry.”

You take a breath. “I applied for a job and I uh… they didn’t hire me.”

“Then they’re stupid.”

“Maybe I’m stupid.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m a girl who’s spent three days talking to a guy who keeps his identity a secret, and for some crazy reason, you’re actually making me feel better. That definitely makes me stupid.”

“No, it makes you soft. It’s one of the things I like about you.”

“Yeah?” you sniffle. “What else? And don’t say my ass in blue jeans.”

The man chuckles. “You’re soft, and kind. But you’re a fighter too. You’ve got a spark. Don’t even get me started on how smart you are-”

“And how would you know how smart I am?”

“For starters, you’re in the top-scoring sorority on campus,” he points out. “Whenever you come to trivia night, you wipe the floor with all of us. Mark talks constantly about how much you help him with his classes, which brings me to my next point, you care about charity. That’s a great sign of your character.”

“You do know a lot about me, don’t you, Ghostie?” His words have stopped your tears, and you cradle your phone close to your ear.

“Still not a stalker though.”

Now he even has you laughing. “Jury’s still out on that one.”

“You sound better already,” he muses. “Mark has a free block right now, I’m sure if you call him he’d take you for ice cream or something to distract you.”

“That’s a good idea,” you admit.

“I’m full of good ideas.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, Tiny.”

Tuesday pt 2

“This guy sounds like a full-on stalker,” Mark says for the sixth time as you grab ice cream and sit inside while a storm passes, rain splattering the windows.

“I mean, if he knew your schedule, I’m guessing he’s someone close to you.”

“He’s stalking us both, I don’t like it.”

“But he’s nice.”

“He’s stalking you, Tiny!”

“He’s not!” you insist. “A lot of people were at the library today… honestly, I think… I think Ghostie is kind of sweet.”

“Ghostie?!” Mark stares at you in shock. “You’re calling him Ghostie now?”

“It’s cute, right?”

“It’s crazy is what it is!” Mark leans back in his seat, frowning. “This is giving me the creeps.”

“Well, it’s spooky season.”

“If I’m being honest, I don’t think any of my frat brothers would pull crazy shit like this. They’re mostly pretty chill dudes.”

“So you think he’s lying about being in NCT?” you ask, cocking your head to the side.

“I think he’s definitely lying,” Mark confirms.

“Well, agree to disagree.”

Mark studies you for a moment. “Look, the only guy who’s a freak like this is Yuta and he swore up and down to me yesterday that he’s not calling you with a fucking voice modulator.”

“I don’t think this is Yuta.”

“Because you’re a Ghostie expert now, huh?” He scoffs loudly.

“Yuta’s not really a stoner,” you point out. “And besides, I can’t explain why I know it’s not him, I just have a feeling.”

“Yeah, is that feeling in your pussy by any chance?”

“Mark Lee!” you gasp, scandalized by his choice of words.

“Be real with me!” he insists. “You wouldn’t be entertaining this if it wasn’t… I don’t know, turning you on? Are you turned on by stalkers? Is this why you like Halloween so much?”

“Okay, maybe I am turned on, but that doesn’t make me a bad person.”

“It just makes you crazy,” Mark groans, running a hand through his hair. “I swear to God, when the dude reveals himself at the frat party, it better be one of my frat brothers and not a serial killer. And also, I’m going to fight him.”

“Something tells me he’d beat you,” you giggle.

“Now you’re trying to make me feel bad.”

“Says the guy who just called me crazy.” You grin, knowing that you’ve won.

“This whole thing is crazy.”

He has a point about that.

Wednesday

You’ve been waiting all day for a call from Ghostie, and it comes right before you’re about to head to bed. You practically launch yourself at your phone, putting it on speaker and saying “Hello?” as if you don’t know who’s on the other end of the line.

“Hey you, feeling better today?”

“You tell me, mister stalker.”

“I haven’t actually seen you today, it was a bit of a shame if I’m being honest.”

“Yeah?” God, this man has way too much power over you. “And why’s that, Ghostie?”

“Because I’ve been looking at your Instagram, but you’re cuter in person.”

“Do you follow me?”

“We’re mutuals.”

You’re mutuals with pretty much the entire NCT frat, it would have been more helpful if he’d said he’s not a follower, although, now that you think of it, that had always been unlikely.

“Still trying to figure out who I am, aren’t you, Tiny?”

“Of course.”

“Remember when I was listing your good qualities? Patience wasn’t one of them.”

“That’s so rude of you,” you say, although, you’re grinning at your phone.

“Here, I’ll make it better. I have an idea for you.”

“Let’s hear it then.” You get comfortable on your bed, wondering what he’s about to say.

“If you want a job, there’s this bar on campus, Skeets. Have you heard of it?”

“Who hasn’t heard of Skeets?” You roll your eyes.

“They let just about anyone work there. A few of the NCT guys are bartenders, I’m sure they’d put a good word in for you with the hiring manager, he’s also a member of the frat.”

You haven’t been to Skeets in ages, and you try to remember who you know amongst the staff. “Wait, you’re right- doesn’t Hyuck work there?”

“He does… This is the second time you’ve mentioned him, got something of a crush, Tiny?”

“Would that make you jealous?” you tease.

“I’m not the jealous type,” he states. “But yeah… it would.”

“Don’t get your Ghost Face mask in a knot, I don’t have a crush on Hyuck. In fact, if you turn out to be Hyuck and I find out you lied to me about your identity, I’m going to be really mad.”

“I’m not Hyuck.”

“Good.” You consider his proposition for a moment. “Do you really think they’d hire me?”

“It doesn’t hurt to try.”

“You know, on Sunday, if someone had told me you’d be helping me find a job not three days later, I would have said they were crazy.”

“Guess I like to keep you on your toes.”

“I think you just have a major soft spot for me. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I can’t. I promised not to lie to you.”

God, he makes you so giddy it’s insane.

“Are you going to come stalk me at Skeets if they give me a job?”

“Goodnight, Tiny.” He’s avoiding the question, and you can hear him grinning through the phone.

“Night, Ghostie.”

It’s the first time he’s the one to hang up on you, and it leaves you wanting more.

Thursday

Ghostie had assured you that Skeets hires just about anyone, but that doesn’t help the anxiety building inside of you as you prepare to take your resume into the bar.

You even do a Wonderwoman pose outside while waiting for Skeets to open, breathing deeply to psych yourself up while you go over possible interview questions just in case the hiring manager wants a chit-chat today.

“I love working in a team environment,” you say quietly to yourself, closing your eyes and running through responses. “The most important thing is that the guests feel welcome.”

The sound of something dragging across the cement ground has you practically jumping, lids flashing open as your head whips toward the noise.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your mantra,” the tall fratboy laughs, setting up the wooden sign with the daily drink menu just in front of the door to the bar.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, swallowing thickly.

The man in front of you is Johnny Suh. He’s two years older than you, and you know him through Mark. When guys join a frat, they’re assigned a ‘Big,’ an elder frat brother to guide them through the process. Johnny is Mark’s big, and he’s always been nice to you whenever you’ve crossed paths.

You would call Johnny an acquaintance, not a friend, but he’s still a friendlier face than you may have expected to see upon your first moments interacting with Skeets staff.

“You coming inside, Tiny?” Johnny asks.

“Yeah, sorry John, one sec, I just need another deep breath.” You wave your hand at him, turning your back and gulping down air while you hold your bag tight to your front, the resume within practically burning a hole in the leather.

The hot fratboy heads back inside and you finish calming yourself down.

You can do this. You can get this job.

As you enter the bar that’s just open, you realize there are only a few staff members kicking around so far. Kim Jungwoo is rearranging chairs, and Lee Donghyuck is sitting on a table looking at his phone. Johnny Suh is behind the bar, and you decide you should probably talk to him, so you try to act confident as you walk through the small establishment.

Johnny’s brown eyes raise as you approach, and he offers you a small smile. “Tough day?”

“What?” You blink at him, settling against the bartop.

“You looked kind of off outside, and most people don’t come in to day-drink this early.”

“Oh, uh… I’m not here to day-drink.” You let out a tiny laugh. “Actually, I came to see if you guys were looking to hire new staff members, I brought my resume.”

You reach into your bag to pull out the papers, and you hand them over to Johnny.

His eyes scan the first sheet. “Wow, a cover letter, I’ve actually never seen one of these.”

People don’t apply with cover letters? The idea is kind of shocking to you.

Johnny hardly looks at your resume, setting it down in front of him to address you instead. “What makes you want to work at Skeets?”

“In all honesty, I need a job. I’m dependable, and I’ve got a decent schedule to work in the food service industry. I like working as part of a team, and I’m already friends with a lot of the staff here, so I thought it might be a good fit.”

Johnny nods, assessing you. “Have you bartended before?”

“I’ve got my qualifications to serve alcohol, but I’ve mostly had waitressing jobs,” you admit.

“At Skeets, we all do a bit of everything. Would you be open to learning how to mix drinks?”

“I’d be very open to it,” you nod.

“Then let’s give it a shot,” Johnny smiles warmly at you. “You’ve got good timing, we actually just had to let go of someone for excessive drinking on the job. I was going to put a wanted ad up today, but looks like that won’t be necessary.”

“Are you…” you swallow thickly, “are you serious? I’m hired?”

“Yeah, why not?”

You can’t help the squeal of delight that rushes through you, and a massive grin makes its way onto your face. You even jump a little, and Johnny seems to enjoy your excitement, smiling from ear to ear while you celebrate.

“When can you start?” he asks next.

“I can start tomorrow! I mean, if you need me that soon.”

“Tomorrow is a big night here at Skeets, the Friday before Halloween. We could use the hands, but it will be a busy one, do you think you can handle that?”

You’re quick to nod. “Of course. But I uh… I should let you know, I can’t work Halloween, I promised a friend I’d meet them at your frat for the party.”

“Don’t worry about Saturday,” Johnny assures you. “Sigma Veta Tau has their frat party tonight, so it’s all us NCT guys working, and tomorrow we’ll switch. As much as Seungcheol is a good comanager, I don’t trust him to teach you how to mix drinks on Halloween.”

“So… you’re going to be the main person training me then?” you ask.

“If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself,” he confirms.

You can’t help but beam up at the tall frat boy, overjoyed at this turn of events. As cute as Johnny is though, part of you is excited to tell Ghostie about this when he inevitably calls you tonight.

Your life is definitely a little crazy.

“So, how about you come in tomorrow at seven?” Johnny suggests. “The bar will be open past midnight, but I figure I can show you a few things before it gets busy around ten, and then I can let you go early.”

“I’ll be here at seven.”

“And when it comes to what you’re wearing, we’ll give you a Skeets t-shirt,” he pulls at the black fabric stretched tight across his broad chest. “Other than that, you can wear any color of jeans and some sneakers.”

“Perfect.”

“You’ll be paid for the training shift, I’ll tip you out in cash, and if it goes well, we’ll get your banking details at your next shift after that,” Johnny explains. “I’ve got your number here on your resume, so I’ll be in contact with you on Sunday, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds like a dream.” You literally can’t stop smiling.

“Tiny’s going to learn to mix,” Johnny says fondly, “Mark’s going to love this.”

You already feel close to Mark’s big, and the opportunity to work with him is a good one. Johnny is one of the more well-known nice guys at the frat. Sure, he’s got a little bit of a dangerous edge to him, just based on his massive stature alone, but he’s generally a big softy bear.

“Thanks again for this, Johnny,” you beam. “I won’t let you down.”

Thursday pt 2

“Hyuck said our favorite Tiny sorority princess got herself a job today.”

“Hello to you too, Ghostie.”

“I wanted to cut to the chase and congratulate you.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten the job without you,” you admit. “So… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” your mystery man says, and you can hear that classic grin of his. “I’m sure you got it on your own merit.”

“Apparently no one’s ever brought a cover letter with their resume before.”

“They must have been impressed.”

“Hired me on the spot.”

“That’s my girl.”

Your insides flutter. You like the way it sounds when he calls you his girl. “How about your day, Ghostie? Stalk any new girls?”

He laughs. “Only one girl worth stalking, which, I don’t do, by the way.”

“Sure you don’t.”

“My day was long,” he says finally.

“Yeah, it’s nearly midnight, I was thinking about going to sleep but…”

“But you wanted me to call,” Ghostie finishes your sentence for you.

“When you say it like that it sounds kind of depressing.”

“It’s not depressing, Tiny, it’s cute.”

“Cute?”

“I like that you’re getting used to me.”

“You know… if you decided not to show up to the Halloween party- if you never called again, I think… I’d wonder who you are the rest of my life.” It’s a moment of vulnerability, and your heart races in your chest while you wait for his response.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Tiny,” Ghostie promises. “I’ll find you on Saturday, and not in a stalker way.”

“What costume are you going to be wearing?”

“If I tell you, you’ll just show up and scour the whole place looking for me.”

“You know me too well, don’t you, Ghostie?”

“What are you going to wear, pretty girl?”

You literally kick your feet at the term of endearment, body buzzing. It takes a moment to collect yourself. “Honestly? I’ve got a Ghost Face mask hanging around somewhere.”

“And here I was being told I’m the one who gets hard pretending to be Ghost Face.”

“Well… even though I don’t know you, not really, I think I got that one pretty accurate, didn’t I?”

“Maybe a little.”

“I thought you said you were big,” you tease.

“Okay, maybe a lot.”

You bite at your lip. After the great day you’ve had, it’s difficult not to feel flirty. “Are you hard right now, big guy?”

He groans, and even under the voice modulator, something tells you the sounds he makes are sexy as fuck. You can feel your panties getting wet. It’s dirty, but in the best possible way.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you grin.

“You’re being bad, Tiny.”

“Says the guy who’s literally hard right now.”

The other end of the line is silent for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

“What if… when we meet, you’re not interested in me?”

Well, this has just taken a turn. How did you go from horny thoughts to insecurity?

It’s a valid question though, one you should have asked yourself by now, but for some reason you haven’t. You think about it for a few seconds.

“I feel like… I know it’s been less than a week of talking but, you’re not like any other guy I’ve ever met. And not just because you’re calling with a voice modulator.” You let out a laugh. “You ask how my day is, and you care to hear my answer. You even helped me get a job, which is crazy to think about. For some weird reason, I think when I meet you, the emotional connection is already kind of there, so no matter what you look like, you’ll be more attractive to me.”

“You really think so?”

“I mean, NCT is known for having hot guys, so I’m not sure who you could be that would turn me off. There are only a few NCT guys I’d say a hard no to at the moment.”

“Yeah? Who?”

“Well, Doyoung and I have never gotten along, but I know you’re not him because he doesn’t touch weed. I dated Jeno for about a week, and I know enough about him to know I don’t want to do anything with him ever again, and also, that you’re not Jeno because he’d never ask me how my day was going-”

“What an asshole.”

You laugh. “All things considered, Ghostie, I think you’ll do just fine.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Is this why you’ve been doing the whole voice modulator thing? You’re worried I won’t be interested in you?”

“It’s one of the reasons,” Ghostie admits. “I also worried that if I did hit on you, you might think I was only trying to get you into my bed, which, yeah, it would be nice, but… as perfect as your body is, it’s not the most interesting thing about you.”

What a scrumptious take; A guy calling you up and using anonymity to prove to you that this connection isn’t only about sex.

Your heart softens.

“Ghostie, you might be one of the sweetest guys I know,” you admit.

“More than your best friend Mark Lee?”

You laugh. “Maybe not, Mark would never do something like this. You’re a bit of a paradox that way, aren’t you?”

“If you say so, Tiny. As much as I’ve liked this talk, I think I should let you sleep. Halloween is two days away and I’m sure we’ve both got a lot to do before then.”

“What if I don’t want you to go just yet?”

“Then I’d remind you that patience is a virtue.”

“You’re such a tease.”

“Good thing we have an emotional connection so you’ll forgive me for it. Night, Tiny.”

“Night, Ghostie.”

Friday

Your first shift consists of shadowing Johnny. He’s a fabulous teacher. He’s calm, patient, and very encouraging. The first few hours are a breeze, but the bar gets increasingly packed as the night goes on.

It’s a little overwhelming, but Johnny helps keep you steady. He gives you the easy drink orders, things like beer and simple cocktails. While you’re filling a cup from the beer tap, he’s busy mixing five to ten different things into one glass for items on the Halloween special menu.

There’s something sexy about a diligent worker, and his beefy arms are all bulgy and hot in his tight Skeets shirt. You can tell that a lot of girls come up to the bar specifically to order from him. There are two other bartenders, but Johnny’s line is notably the longest.

You’ve had your own share of interested men pop over to say hi. There are very few frat boys here tonight, as there’s a party in full swing in the Greek village, so most of the guys coming up to grab a beer from you are people you don’t know.

Many of them are dressed up in costumes, and it’s interesting to try to guess some of the more obscure clothing choices.

Anytime you see a man in a ghost costume, your mind shifts to your mystery caller. You wonder if he’ll pop by tonight- but other than the men already working with you, no NCT boys walk through the front door.

No Ghostie.

There’s not one second of reprieve, but staff need breaks, and finally, just before midnight, Johnny pulls you both for a breather.

“Are you sure the others can keep up while we’re gone?” you ask, looking back at the swamped bartenders.

“They can manage,” he assures you, guiding you through the back staffroom to a door that leads to an alleyway behind the bar. “I know I’ve kept you on longer than I thought, but it’s just been so busy. How are you holding up?”

The cool night air is a drastic difference from the heat and humidity inside, and you take a deep breath, closing your eyes and enjoying it. “I’m doing alright,” you tell him. “You’re the one making the difficult drinks.”

“I’ve been mixing cocktails for years,” he brushes it off, reaching into his back pocket.

“Well, it shows.” You watch to see him pull out a rolled joint, and next comes a lighter.

“Want some?” he asks, lifting the joint to slot between his perfect lips.

“Are we allowed to smoke on the job?”

“Hyuck was prescribed Vyvanse last year, so he’s practically on coke all shift,” Johnny grins, lighting the end of the joint and taking a puff. “Besides,” he lets out a deep breath of smoke, “in the service industry, sometimes you need a little buffer.”

Skeets really is a chill place if the hiring manager smokes weed on breaks with subordinates.

“I didn’t realize you were a stoner,” you muse.

“Most of us frat boys are,” Johnny admits, pulling the joint from between his lips. It’s placed casually between two fingers, and his other hand ruffles through his pretty hair. “It’s a nice night.”

“It is,” you nod, looking up at the sky. Stars are twinkling in the dark

“I’m glad you joined the team, not sure we would have been doing so well without your extra set of hands.”

“I’m really grateful to have been given a trial shift,” you smile softly.

“Well, just so you know, it’s more than a trial shift. You’re hired.” He nudges your shoulder gently, and your grin only grows.

“Thank you.”

Johnny takes another drag from his joint. “Sure you don’t want a puff?”

“I really shouldn’t-”

“I’m going to let you go home pretty soon after this,” Johnny tells you. “So it won’t affect your performance that much.”

You wonder if this is a test, but… at the same time, you don’t think Johnny’s the type of guy to test you this way.

You give in, accepting the joint and bringing it to your lips. It’s been a while since you smoked one of these, and your first tiny hit leaves you coughing, passing the joint back to Johnny while you try to catch your breath.

He grins while watching you, and you get the sneaking suspicion that Johnny thinks you’re cute.

“Thank you,” you say, coughing again.

“You’ve got good manners, don’t ya, Tiny?”

You nod, wiping at the tears that have formed in your eyes from the smoke.

“Who... who do you usually smoke with?” you ask.

“Why? You a cop?” Johnny jokes.

“No, it’s just uh… God, I could tell you the whole story but you wouldn’t even believe me if I did,” you find yourself laughing. “Just… I didn’t know you smoked, so, I’m wondering if maybe there are a few other guys in your circle who do too.”

Johnny looks you up and down. “Like I said earlier, Tiny, almost all us frat boys partake in mari-ju-ana.”

It’s clear he’s not going to give you any information that could help you figure out who your Ghostie is. You suppose you really will just have to be patient.

In less than twenty-four hours, you’ll be finding out who your mystery caller is, and the suspense is absolutely killing you.

Friday pt 2

It’s twelve thirty when you finally get home, and you’re very tired. But at the same time, you’re awake. You take your time getting ready for bed, ignoring the loud party sounds outside and around the frat village while you wait for a call from Ghostie.

As one am rolls around, you start to realize that maybe tonight you won’t get a call.

He is a frat boy, and this is Halloween weekend.

You’re disappointed as you get into bed, frowning as you scroll on your phone, hoping that if you wait another five minutes, maybe he’ll catch you.

Five minutes turn into ten, turn into fifteen, and you find your eyes beginning to shut.

You’re starting to understand how much you truly have come to depend on Ghostie as part of your nightly ritual. It hurts not to get a call from your favourite voice-modulated anonymous frat boy.

You try to self-soothe by assuring yourself you’ll meet him tomorrow, but it doesn’t really help.

Tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable, you fall into a blissless sleep.

Saturday

You’re groggy when you open your eyes, but you still go to check your phone. There’s a missed call notification from an unknown number at three am, and suddenly you’re wide awake, bolting up in bed.

“Hey, Tiny, it’s me.”

As if it could be anyone else.

“Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you last night. I was pretty swamped with Halloween stuff. But if it makes you feel any better, you were definitely on my mind.”

Here you are kicking your feet again.

“Probably won’t get a chance to talk to you until the party, I really do hope you come… in uh… more ways than one.”

God, he makes you wet.

“I get it if you’re a little mad at me for not calling earlier, and I promise to make it up to you when I see you, if you’ll let me.”

He’s so oddly respectful.

“But I get it if you don’t want to do anything at the party. I’ve enjoyed talking with you this week, and if that’s all it’s going to be then I won’t hold it against you. Anyways, goodnight, see you soon.”

Saturday pt 2

You feel cute tonight. You’d taken your Ghost Face mask off almost as soon as entering the frat, but the little black dress you’re wearing is enough to capture a lot of attention.

Every frat boy that comes up to you makes your heart race, but none of them reveal themselves as your Ghostie.

You’re actually beginning to get a little frustrated, and after two hours of floating around hoping to find your mystery man, you head with Mark to his room for a break.

Mark’s roommate, Hyuck, is sitting on his bed, bong already out and resting on one thigh while scrolls through his phone. He looks up when you enter, smirking. “Finally, smoking buddies.”

“You texted me like two minutes ago to come up here,” Mark rolls his eyes. “Have some patience.”

“Not in my nature,” Hyuck insists, setting his phone down and reaching for his lighter. “First hit is mine.”

As if you expected anything less.

You watch him inhale the thick cloud of smoke, holding it for a moment in his lungs before he lets out a deep exhale. “Fucking hell, he groans, that was a good hit.”

Mark takes the bong and Hyuck falls flat against the bed, closing his eyes and smiling.

“So have you found your stalker yet, Tiny?” Hyuck asks.

Your gaze flashes to Mark. “You told him?”

“He was curious why I was asking for a stoner list,” Mark defends himself.

“Whoever the dude is, he’s got balls,” Hyuck says wistfully.

There’s a knock on the door, and Jaehyun pokes his head inside. “Heard we’re smoking?”

“Yeah, come in!” Hyuck waves his hand, still collapsed on his bed.

The door is pushed open wider, and you catch sight of Johnny standing behind Jaehyun. Your new hiring manager flashes you a wink as they enter, and the door is shut firmly behind them. Jaehyun goes to sit with Hyuck, but Johnny approaches you, taking the seat next to you on Mark’s bed.

“How’s your night going?” Johnny asks.

“She’s waiting for her stalker to come kidnap her and fuck her brains out,” Hyuck says loudly.

“Your stalker?” Johnny laughs.

“Some guy has been calling her all week,” Mark tries to explain.

“It sounds worse than it is,” you insist, feeling the need to defend Ghostie. “He’s only a little perverted.”

“And you’re into that sort of thing?” Jaehyun questions, cocking his head while Mark takes a puff from the bong and hands it over.

“Not usually,” you admit. “But… this guy is different.”

“You don’t even know what he looks like,” Mark groans, collapsing in his desk chair and running an anxious hand through his hair.

“That doesn’t matter,” you insist.

“Fucking girls, dude,” Hyuck laughs, sitting up and watching Jaehyun smoke from the bong. “You know what we need?”

“More weed?” Mark suggests.

“Yes, but also, shots.” Hyuck’s eyes shift to Johnny. “Not the shit from downstairs. The good stuff.”

Johnny lets out a chuckle. “You want something from my secret stash?”

“The tequila you brought back from Mexico,” Hyuck nods.

Jaehyun lets out a puff of smoke, holding the bong out for Johnny, who shakes his head.

“You’re not taking a hit?” Jaehyun asks, staring at Johnny in hazy shock.

“Not tonight,” Johnny responds. Then he turns to you. “If neither of us are taking a crack at the bong, how about you come help me grab the tequila?”

“Careful, John,” Hyuck teases, “She’s not interested in you, she only has eyes for this Ghostie dude.”

Mark shoves Hyuck’s knee and Johnny simply grins. “Come on Tiny, you don’t want to get secondhand high on a night like this.”

He’s right about that, and you stand with him, heading to the door. Johnny’s so tall and broad, and you try not to stare at his shoulders, but it’s extremely difficult not to appreciate his large form.

“What’s your costume?” you ask.

“Oh, this?” He pulls casually at his black tshirt. “I’m a serial killer, they look like everyone else.”

“Very original,” you laugh, falling into step with the tall fratboy as you make your way down the crowded hall.

“My room is on the top floor,” he tells you, heading to the stairwell and holding the door open for you. “I like your dress, by the way.”

“Thanks, it goes with this.” You hold up the Ghost Face mask to show it to him, and his grin widens while you climb the stairs.

“You’re gonna have to let me try that on.”

“I’m uh… I’m actually saving it for Ghostie to try,” you admit, feeling a little silly with how loyal you’re being to your mystery caller.

“He’s a lucky guy,” Johnny muses.

“Here’s to hoping it goes well,” you sigh.

Johnny doesn’t respond to your comment, and as you reach the top floor he guides you three rooms down, using a key to unlock the door before he holds it open for you. “After you, Tiny.”

The space is the same size as Hyuck and Mark’s, but it only has one bed. “I didn’t realize they had single rooms here,” you say, looking around.

“There’s only a few, and I’ve got seniority,” Johnny explains. He closes the door behind him, walking over to the large closet.

You take in the decorations. It’s unmistakably a frat boy's room, but much cleaner than you’re used to. There’s a gaming station, and a mini fridge that you’d guess is full of beer. A clothing rack shows off some of Johnny’s more sophisticated tastes.

You’re curious about what else he has in his stash, so you join him by the closet, peeking inside. “We’re looking for tequila right?”

God, he has a whole shelf full of expensive bottles of booze.

“Uh huh,” Johnny nods. “Should be in the back here somewhere.”

“Isn’t this tequila?” you ask, pointing to a bottle he’s brushed past.

“Close,” Johnny flashes a grin at you before continuing to rummage, “but no cigar.”

You freeze.

It’s been nearly a week since your first interaction with Ghostie, but you remember that interesting turn of phrase like it was yesterday.

But- it can’t be.

Johnny can’t be your mystery caller-

Can he?

“Found it,” Johnny announces, pulling an immaculate bottle of tequila out. His gaze lands on you. “You alright, Tiny? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I mean… have I?”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean?”

“You’re…” You swallow thickly. “Are you my Ghostie?”

Johnny meets your gaze with a steady look. “Does it upset you?”

It’s not a clear confirmation, but it’s a confirmation nonetheless.

You stare at him in absolute shock for a moment. He looks insanely gorgeous tonight, all broad, with his pretty lips- without even knowing what you’re doing, you find yourself throwing your arms around him and burying your face against his chest.

Johnny freezes, obviously startled by the sudden contact, but then he’s wrapping you in a tight embrace. One of his hands finds the back of your head, and he cradles you close.

Neither of you say anything, you simply hold each other while you come to terms with everything.

He’s so stupid for ever thinking you wouldn’t want him-

You do want him. You want him so bad-

Pulling away from his chest, you tilt your chip up, reaching for his face. You cup his cheek while you move on your tiptoes to press your lips against his.

He appears just as shocked at this movement as when you’d hugged him, but he eases into it all the same, kissing you back gently.

But you don’t want gentle, you want him.

You’re pent up from a week of teasing, and you shift in his embrace, wrapping both arms around the back of his neck while you glide your tongue against his lip.

Johnny lets out a groan, his mouth opening for you while his hands slip down to tug your waist closer.

The kiss deepens and now it’s your turn to release a moan, pressing your tits closer to his chest. He feels like heaven against you, and his lips are absolutely magic. His tongue glides gently against your own. You can taste beer, but it’s not unpleasant, in fact, it turns you on even more.

You thread your fingers through his hair, dragging your nails against his scalp-

“Fuck,” Johnny mutters against your mouth.

Then he’s bending down, hands grabbing at your ass and prompting you to jump. You wrap your legs around his hips and he carries you effortlessly, closing the distance to his bed.

Instead of tossing you down, he sits on the mattress and suddenly your knees are digging into his charcoal duvet. You’re on top, fingers in his hair, your tongue licking at his lip, and you’ve never felt so powerful.

It gives you the confidence to wiggle your hips a little, and you’re pleased to find he’s already growing hard in his jeans. God, he feels big- and your pussy throbs at the idea of what you’re going to do to him tonight.

You’re in a dress, and your panty-clad core feels delightful against bulging denim. Johnny’s grabbing at your bare thigh, kneading your flesh, and it makes you moan desperately. Not only is he skilled with his tongue, but his hands seem to know what they’re doing too.

Suddenly he’s grabbing at your hair, tugging you so you arch your head back, giving him access to your throat. His mouth feels amazing as he begins to lick and suck on your neck, finding your sweet spot way too easily-

“Who-” You swallow thickly. “Who gave you my number?”

Johnny laughs against your skin, pulling away to look up at you with dark eyes. “Mark did.”

“Mark?!” You’re in absolute shock now.

“Gave it to me during finals last year,” Johnny explains. “But… we both had busy summers and…” one of his hands sneaks down to guide your hips, helping you grind against him, “I guess I wasn’t sure how you felt about me.”

“You’re crazy!”

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “I’m also Mark’s big, and it’s not like you and I have ever been close.”

“But you’ve liked me for a while, haven’t you, Ghostie?”

He groans at the nickname, looking up at you with eyes full of wonder. “Longer than you know.”

You wish you could say you’ve felt the same- but in all honesty, you have always seen him as Mark’s big. As an older fratboy dad type-

The way he’s acted with you this week has inklings of that protective daddy personality you know and enjoy, but… he’s not been particularly dad-like. He’s shown you a new side of himself, and you’re so fucking happy he did.

“You know, when Mark finds out you’re my stalker he’s going to flip.”

“I wasn’t stalking you,” Johnny insists, grinning up at you as he applies more pressure to your hips, making you grind against him harder.

“God, you even hired me for a job-”

He laughs. “It wasn’t favoritism, you had a cover letter, the bar owner was even impressed.”

“You’re so bad- this whole time you’ve been mind fucking me. I would have never guessed my Ghostie worked at Skeets.”

“Well, I do have a minor in psychology,” he admits. “Figured the best place to hide is in plain sight.”

“You even smoked a joint in front of me and I never guessed-”

“Yeah, I was playing with fire with that one,” Johnny laughs.

“It’s funny. I was so busy thinking about being loyal to Ghostie that I was trying not to check you out last night.”

“And I’m so lucky to have you. You wouldn’t even let me put on your Ghost Face mask, so busy saving it for Ghostie.”

“Saving myself too,” you note, grinning down at him.

“Yeah?”

“We’ve talked every night since Sunday- I haven’t cum in over a week.”

“Fuck, Tiny,” Johnny groans. “I guess I better help you out then.”

“Really? How are you going to do that?”

“I’ll let you stay on top for a while, let you grind against me until you’re begging for me to tear your dress off.” He pulls at the strap on your shoulder. “Then, I’ll flip you over, get on my knees, and eat you out like the good girl you are, stretching you open with my fingers.”

“And then?”

“When you’re shaking and delirious from cumming, I’ll fuck you right. Bet you’ve never really been fucked right before.”

God, you definitely haven’t. At least- you know you’ve never been fucked the way Johnny is about to fuck you.

“What if I already want you to tear my dress off?” you ask, grinding down against his cock.

Johnny lets out a low groan, grinning at you. “Tiny, you’re nowhere near begging yet.”

“I’m not?” You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his throat before your teeth drag against his earlobe. “Please, Ghostie, I’m already so fucking wet, you wouldn’t believe it-”

He laughs, hand finding your hair again. He tugs you away from his neck, pressing his lips to your own and kissing you hard.

He takes your breath away. His tongue is perfect, licking and tasting- making you moan loudly while you work your hips, swiveling on his denim-covered cock.

“Fuck, Ghostie, you’re so fucking big-”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he promises, grabbing a fistful of your ass and squeezing so hard it almost hurts. But the pain is wonderful, and you cry out in ecstasy, working yourself harder against him.

If it wasn’t for his enticing cock, you think you could make out with him like this forever.

You just want to be naked, so you grab at your dress, intent on lifting it off-

Johnny stops you. “I’ve told you patience is a virtue, haven’t I, Tiny?”

You groan in annoyance. “John, please-”

“Ghostie,” he corrects you.

You don’t even care- you simply grab his hand, guiding it between your legs. His fingertips brush over your soaked panties, and you gasp at the feeling of him, immediately grinding down, looking for relief.

“Fuck-” you moan, closing your eyes and throwing your head back.

He begins to circle your clit through your thong and you’re forced to grab at his shoulder to steady yourself, whimpering loudly.

“Shit, Tiny, you’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers.

“I need you,” you gasp, feeling an orgasm already bubbling in the pit of your stomach. “Please, move my panties to the side-”

Johnny doesn’t question you this time. He pulls your thong away, easily burying two large fingers into your wet, needy core.

Now you’re really gasping. You lean forward, wrapping both arms around his strong shoulders and burying your face against his throat. “Oh my God, Ghostie- don’t stop-”

“You’re going to cum from this, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

You nod desperately, swiveling your hips so your clit can rub against the palm of his hand while his fingers work you open.

“So good,” you whimper. “So fucking good-”

Johnny groans, curving his fingers and stroking your gspot.

You squeal in his lap, thigh muscles clenching while your pussy begins to throb around the foreign intrusions. You’re so close to the edge you can almost taste it.

“Want you to cum for me. Wanna hear your sounds while you drip down my hand.”

Fuck, he’s way too sexy, voice all low and seductive. He’s breathing hard, and you can tell you’re turning him on just from riding his fingers-

“Come on, Tiny, who’s my good girl?”

“I am-” you gasp, digging your nails into his shoulders as your orgasm hits you straight on.

You moan loudly, burying your face against Johnny’s neck. You’re panting against his skin, wiggling your hips while his fingers continue inside of you, driving you absolutely insane. Waves of pleasure are overtaking your form, and your mind is completely blank, overwhelmed by the feeling of ecstasy that Johnny provides for you.

“That’s it,” Johnny encourages you. “So fucking good for me.”

You’re shaking on his lap by the time your high is over, and you press wet kisses to his throat, earning groans from your Ghostie.

You reach down for your dress, lifting it up and off your body. Johnny pulls back, watching you with dark eyes. He takes his fingers out of your wet pussy, bringing them to his lips to clean. But he’s not done there, as you toss the fabric to the floor, Johnny offers you his digits next.

You lock eyes with him for a moment before leaning forward and accepting, taking his wet fingers into your mouth and helping suck them clean. You groa at the taste of yourself. Johnny watches the motion, his free hand finding your hip and forcing you to grind down against his cock.

“You’re so hot, Tiny,” he says, removing his fingers from your lips.

“Wait till you see me naked,” you grin, reaching behind yourself to undo your bra.

It falls away easily, and Johnny’s large hands cup your breasts almost immediately. His head dips, eyes taking in your newly exposed skin. “Fuck, how does a girl get this perfect?”

“How does a guy get a massive cock like yours?” you counter, rubbing yourself against the front of his jeans.

“Touche,” he chuckles, leaning down to lick your nipple.

You thread your fingers through his hair, guiding him to show more affection to your chest, which he’s more than happy to do. His large hand cups your right breast while he worships your other with his mouth, suckling on your nipple. His teeth drag gently against the sensitive bud and you moan loudly, rocking your hips all the while.

“As much as I’d love to keep sucking on your tits,” Johnny sighs, lips moving up your throat again, “I’d rather be between your legs.”

“Ghostie, do whatever you want to me,” you instruct, feeling delightfully submissive.

“You got it, Tiny.”

In one easy motion, he flips you so your back is on the bed. Johnny pulls away from you, sinking to his knees at the edge of the mattress before grabbing you and tugging you closer. He tears his own shirt off, giving you a great view of muscles that make you even wetter. Then he grabs your panties, sliding them down your legs so you’re completely bare for him now.

Johnny doesn’t say anything, he simply licks his lips and dives into you. His tongue parts your folds, dipping inside to taste your walls while your legs shake around his head. “Fuck, Ghostie-”

You reach down to grab his hair, applying enough pressure to his head to let him know you’re enjoying what he’s doing… if he can’t already tell from your desperately needy moans.

His lips move to suction on your clit and a squeal escapes you, your back arching slightly at the sensation.

You’re sensitive from having cum already, sensitive from having not cum all week only to be getting this much attention now. But you’re also probably sensitive because this is Johnny, because there’s been a build-up that’s left you ready to pop, and he seems intent on making you pop multiple times for him.

“Oh my God,” you whimper, eyes closed, abdominal muscles tensing with effort as his skilled tongue works you up again.

Johnny groans against your pussy and it’s one of the sexiest things that’s ever happened to you. Your grip on his hair tightens, your core throbbing with pleasure already.

When he adds two fingers into your dripping hole, you know you’re not going to last, but you don’t think he wants you to.

In fact, you’d bet that Johnny himself is just about ready to explode. You can’t believe he doesn’t have his cock out yet- can’t believe he’s so intent on making you cum twice before getting any satisfaction for himself.

“Fuck, Ghostie-” You want to tell him how close you are to cumming, but you can hardly get the words out between your moans. “I’m- holy shit-”

Johnny finger fucks you even harder, his mouth focusing on your clit, and you’re pretty sure he’s understood your garbled attempt to warn him, pretty sure he wants you to cum.

You allow yourself to find your release, your back arching again as you tug on Johnny’s hair, keeping his face between your legs. You grind down slightly, your body chasing your orgasm as it surges through you like fire in your veins.

Johnny lets out a low groan again, and your entire body twitches at the extra stimulation. You’re gasping now. Nothing has ever felt this good-

To his credit, Johnny tries to help you through your entire orgasm, but he pulls away before you’re truly finished. You can feel him panting against your pussy, and when you open your eyes to look down at him, you find Johnny staring at you with the horniest expression you’ve ever seen on a man.

“Ghostie-” you whimper, shifting against his duvet.

“Condoms,” he says, pulling his fingers out of your core and standing up.

“I’m on birth control,” you tell him quickly, making him freeze. “And if we’re both clean-”

Johnny practically moans at the idea, looking down at your body. “Does my Tiny want to be filled up all nice and good?”

Now it’s your turn to groan, and you nod, licking your lips. You sit up next, feeling your skin heat at the words you want to say, “I also… I wanna suck you off first.”

Johnny approaches the bed again, towering over you. It’s hard to focus on his eyes when his abs and strong biceps and veiny forearms are drawing your attention, but when he cups your jaw it makes things easier. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You pretty much stalked me for a week,” you tease, grinning.

Your Ghostie lets out a laugh. He doesn’t bother to check you on the word ‘stalking’ this time, even though he’s always been adamant that’s not what he was up to. It’s nice to have this little win, and as a reward for him biting his tongue, you reach out to undo his belt.

As the buckle unclasps and you move to his zipper, there’s a loud banging on the door.

Johnny looks over his shoulder and you can hear Hyuck screaming “Tequila!”

The frat boy in front of you lifts his finger to his lips, a shushing motion, and then he reaches into his back pocket for his phone. You bet he’s going to text Hyuck some lie about not being in the room, but you’re too horny to slow down.

You get his jeans undone and you bundle your hands up in all the fabric, roughly tugging them down.

Johnny lets out a groan when his large cock slaps up against his abdomen, and he moves his phone to the side to give himself a better view, holding it with one hand while raising a brow at you.

You’re on your knees at the foot of the bed now while Johnny stands there, and you steady yourself, grabbing the base of his cock. With one last wink at Ghostie, you lean forward, kitten licking his length from balls to tip.

The man above you quickly types in the text, then tosses his phone to the side, his large hand coming down to cup your cheek. You take this as a sign to accept him into your mouth, so you do exactly that.

He’s so large and thick- you haven’t sucked cock in a while, and you’ve never sucked a cock as big as his. You know you can take your time, Johnny’s always been patient with you.

You start by paying attention to the head, swirling your tongue around him and getting used to his size. Your eyes close, mind focused completely on your task. You’re already drooling from this, and you can feel your saliva dripping down his shaft. You smooth your thumb along the new trail of spit, helping lube your hand so you can begin to pump his cock.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, tightening his grip in your hair.

You try to sink your mouth further onto his cock, but it’s difficult. He’s just so huge-

Your pussy throbs knowing that soon, this monster dick is going to be inside of you-

Without any lube that you’ve seen so far, you want to make him as slicked up as possible, and it helps that you’re drooling from how sexy all of this is.

His cock hits the back of your throat and you gag slightly, powering through the uncomfortable feeling as you glide your tongue along his shaft. You’re not a quitter.

“Holy fuck, Tiny-” Johnny praises you. “You don’t have to try to take more than you can handle-”

But you want to. You want to pleasure him the way he’s pleasured you, and his words only prompt you to suck harder, earning more groans from the man above you.

“You’re so good at this,” he continues his words of encouragement, and they do help you take him deeper. His voice is smooth, sexy, and thankfully not modulated in any way.

You’ve never realized how nice John’s voice really is.

You apply more pressure with your hand, pumping him faster-

“Okay, okay-” Johnny tugs gently on your hair, prompting you to pull off of his cock and blink up at him in confusion. “I have to fuck you now. I’m done waiting.”

You let out a tiny mewl, nodding.

Johnny kicks off his jeans completely, pressing a knee onto the bed. He leans down to kiss you, and then he’s grabbing your body. In one easy motion, he tosses you a few feet up the mattress, so your head can land against the pillows.

God, he makes you feel truly Tiny- it’s one of the sexiest things ever.

He takes his place between your legs next, lips finding yours. One of his hands cups your cheek, and the kiss deepens, his tongue invading your mouth while your arms wrap around his strong shoulders.

You can feel his cock sliding between your pussy lips, and it’s almost embarrassing how wet you are, how much drool you’ve left on him.

“Please-” you whimper. You can’t wait another moment either, you have to know what he feels like. You reach your hand between your bodies, grabbing his cock so you can line him up with you properly. “Ghostie, I can’t-”

He kisses you, cutting you off. Something tells you Johnny understands, and the moment you have him properly situated, he begins to push into you.

You gasp against his lips, letting go of his cock so you can grab his shoulders. He’d worked you open with his fingers two times over, but nothing compares to this. You can feel your walls stretching to accommodate his impressive girth, and it leaves you practically brain-dead.

“Let me know if it’s too much,” Johnny tells you, lips moving to your throat so he can suck on your sweet spot while he continues to burry into your hot, wet core.

You wrap your legs tightly around his hips, closing your eyes while the feeling of him overtakes you. You’ve never moaned like this before, never felt anything like Johnny-

He groans loudly against your skin, gently thrusting, coating his cock in your juices to make things easier-

The moment his hips hit flush to yours, his full cock buried inside of you, you both gasp. Johnny grabs at your hands, interlocking your fingers and pinning them to the pillows on either side of your head.

“Fuck, you’re so big, you’re so-” You can’t even think, especially not when he takes another test thrust.

His cock drags against your inner walls and you cry out, body tingling.

“You take me so well, Tiny,” he praises you, mouth still hot on your throat. “The perfect fit.”

You can’t speak, not now, but you can squeeze his hands and tilt your head to the side, kissing his cheek. Johnny takes the cue to bring his lips back to yours, and you’re immediately lost in yet another breathtaking makeout session.

He’s moving slow, fucking into you at a gentle pace, allowing your body to get used to his massive size.

But you’re feeling particularly desperate, and greedy. “More.”

“More?” He laughs. “You sure about that?”

You nod, eager to be decimated by him. “Please, ruin me-”

Johnny groans, letting go of one of your hands so he can press his palm flat to the bed, giving himself more leverage. He begins to fuck you faster, and each meeting of his cock to your core has you whimpering like a whore in heat.

“You make the cutest fucking sounds,” Johnny breathes.

Only he - with his cock making you feral - would call your noises of pleasure cute.

He’s so stupidly endearing.

“Fuck, Tiny, you’re dripping- making this too fucking easy for me.”

It’s absolutely embarrassing how wet you are. He’s gliding into you with no issues now, and each movement is like heaven. The head of his cock hits a spot deep in your stomach- you can’t help but reach down, pressing your palm to your abdomen-

You can feel him rearranging your guts, and you both groan when you apply a bit of pressure.

“Deep, huh?” Johnny lets out a moaned chuckle.

“So deep-” you agree, words slightly garbled.

“I’ve just started with you and you can hardly speak,” Johnny muses. “Wonder what’s gonna happen when I make you cum again.”

You cry out desperately, removing your hand from your stomach so you can claw at his hair, bringing his lips back to your own.

You’re tired of thinking- all you want to do is experience this, experience him, at your fullest- and boy, are you fucking full.

Johnny lets go of your other hand, reaching for your thigh. He adjusts it higher on his hip and suddenly he’s driving into you even deeper.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you gasp loudly against his lips. Johnny traces his tongue along your teeth, and you can feel him smirking.

You love that he’s enjoying this- enjoying watching you come completely undone for him.

“You know,” he says, “if you keep squeezing me like that, I’m not going to last long.”

You don’t even care. You know this isn’t the only time you’ll be fucking this man- and after cumming twice already, your body is near its limit of pleasure, if that’s even possible. In fact, there’s something very sexy about making a man cum quicker than he’s used to, and your pussy clenches at the thought.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans again. “Can I flip you over?”

At this point, you’ll agree to any request, and you nod quickly, biting at your lip.

With one last kiss, Johnny pulls away from you. His cock slips out of your core and you whine at the loss, only for his two large hands to grab your waist and manually turn you onto your stomach. Then he adjusts your hips, pulling you up into doggy position.

“If you need to scream, use the pillows,” Johnny warns you, lining up with your pussy again.

The first thrust has you doing exactly that. You bury your face into the pillow, letting out a loud cry as his cock hits deeper than before.

This position might just kill you, but you don’t care.

His hands feel so good- so large and warm and steady on your hips as he finds an even rougher pace.

You can hear your ass smacking loudly against his front with each thrust and it only adds to your arousal.

Bunching your hands up in his duvet, you do your best not to be so loud that the whole frat will hear you. But it’s so difficult not to just melt under him-

You can feel your eyes welling with pleasure-fueled tears, and it drives you crazy.

“Fuck, you like this position, don’t you, pretty girl?”

“Yes, Ghostie!” you gasp, nodding while his cock continues to make you feel like absolute heaven.

“You look fucking perfect like this,” he tells you. “Face down, ass up. Pretty soon you’ll be begging for me to fill you up even more.”

His words flip a switch inside of you. “God, yes, please-” you cry out. “I want it so bad-”

“Want what?”

“Want your cum,” you whimper. “Wanna be so full-”

Johnny groans, grabbing rough fistfuls of your ass while he fucks you even harder.

“I need it, Ghostie, I need it-” You’re crying now, and Johnny notices.

He bends over your back, bracing an arm across your chest so he can lift you onto your knees. He cups your jaw, thumb stroking through a tear track. “Holy shit, Tiny,” he moans, mouth hot against your shoulder.

“Please, Ghostie, please-” you whimper, lower lip trembling-

You’re so close-

Johnny lets go of your jaw, and his hand slips down your front. You jolt when his fingers make contact with your clit, wriggling in his grasp.

“I’m almost there, Tiny,” he admits. “Watching you cum will tip me over the edge- you’ll be good and cum for me, right?”

All you can do is nod. Words are gone. Your mind is blank except for the pleasure that’s coursing through you.

Your noises are getting pitchier, and Johnny works you all the way to your peak. You gasp loudly as you topple over the edge, core clamping down hard on his cock.

Your legs feel like jelly, and Johnny releases you, allowing you to fall to the bed while your orgasm ravages your form. You’re clawing at the sheets, burying your face in his bed to muffle your screams-

His hands are bruising on your hips, and you hear him let out a loud groan. You can feel him filling you up, his motions faltering ever so slightly. His breath is hot against your shoulders and it’s added stimulus that makes you twitch, so completely overwhelmed that it almost feels like you’re about to black out.

But you don’t want to miss a second of this. His groans of pleasure keep you in the moment even as your mind is in a sex daze.

Johnny rides you through your high, thrusts slowing until he comes to a stop behind you.

You’re both breathing heavily now, and Johnny stays still for a moment, enjoying the last of your orgasm aftershocks. Then he flattens his chest to your back, hand falling to the bed next to your own.

“Holy shit,” he breathes.

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, and it makes Johnny groan as your core clenches again.

He kisses your shoulder, lips oddly tender in comparison to the way he just blew your back out.

“Ghostie-” you whimper, wanting to collapse on his bed from exhaustion.

“Stay still, I’ll get something to clean you up,” he assures you, pressing one last kiss to your skin before straightening from your back.

You miss his warmth as soon as he’s gone, and you especially miss his cock when it slides out of you.

You feel him get off the bed, and a moment later, something begins to drip down your inner thighs. He really filled you up, and it makes you twitch. You reach a hand between your legs, cupping your core and rolling onto your back on his bed, trying to breathe properly.

Johnny is back a second later, and you can feel his gaze on you.

“Spread these thighs for me, Tiny,” he says gently, touching your knee.

You open your eyes, and then you open your legs.

Johnny moves your hand out of the way, letting out a groan. “You have no idea how fucking hot this is-” he tells you, wiping your core clean of his cum.

You still don’t have it within yourself to speak, you can only watch him toss the tissue in the garbage before you’re making grabby hands at him.

Johnny laughs. He sits on the bed next to you, leaning against the headboard before scooping you into his lap. He’s so fucking big, and he makes you feel safe cuddled in his arms, your cheek pressed to his chest.

His heart is still racing, and it makes you feel better to know you’re not the only one who’s so affected by this.

Johnny’s fingers begin to thread through your hair, and he simply holds you while you come out of subspace.

The party is still in full swing outside, and it’s an interesting feeling to have such a private moment with Johnny in the middle of a frat on Halloween.

“Do you think anyone heard us?” you ask finally.

Johnny laughs. “Don’t worry about it,” he says soothingly.

You pull away from his chest, looking up at him. His hand moves to cup your face and you press your lips to his. It’s a much gentler kiss than he’d given you mid-fuck, and it eases your racing heart.

“Ghostie?”

“Yeah, Tiny?”

“I like you a lot.”

He lets out another chuckle. “I like you too.”

“We’ll do this again sometime, right?”

“Of course, Tiny.” His hand smooths up and down your back. “I’d also like to take you on dates, if you’ll let me.”

“I’d like that,” you nod, relaxing against his chest again. “And… and when you call me, no more voice modulator.”

“No?”

“I like your voice, your real voice.” God, you’re feeling so soft and mushy for him.

“I like your voice too.” For a second, it’s a sweet moment, and then Johnny continues, “Liked listening to your whimpers.”

He’s such a frat boy, but you kind of love him for it. “Did you like my tears too?”

“Only if they’re for a good reason,” Johnny says. “If anyone else ever makes you cry, I’ll have to fuck them up.”

“My protective Ghostie,” you grin, leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw.

“As much as I’d love to stay cuddling you forever, I should probably bring the boys some tequila,” Johnny sighs.

“The boys,” you echo. “I feel like I’ve just fucked Mark and Hyuck’s dad.”

“Do you have a daddy kink, Tiny?”

“For you, I have any kink you want,” you laugh.

“I like the sound of that.”

“Just… kiss me again?” you ask. “We can bring tequila after.”

“Are you sure you want to come with? You can stay here and I’ll come back-”

“We should…” you lick your lips, “we should be social.”

“I just fucked your brains out and you want to go be social?” Johnny grins. “Maybe I didn’t work you over well enough.”

“You worked me over perfect,” you laugh, grabbing at his jaw so you can press your lips to his.

Johnny melts into the kiss, and there’s something in it that feels like coming home. You’ve never felt this safe with a guy before, and it’s kind of starting to scare you.

If you were to stay here- you think you might even fall in love with Johnny… that is, if you haven’t already.

You pull away from your Ghostie, letting out a sigh.

Getting out of his lap isn’t fun, and your legs are wobbly as you stand next to the bed, but Johnny’s hands go to your hips to steady you.

When he stands, he towers over you, and you’re overcome by your thirst for him all over again. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, bringing him in for another kiss.

It’s so easy to get lost in making out with Johnny, but you have to tear yourself away, nodding, “Tequila.”

“Tequila,” he echoes. “Can you stand by yourself?”

“I’m okay,” you assure him, but it still hurts when he lets you go.

Johnny pulls on some sweatpants while you find your dress-

“You’re not putting that back on,” Johnny tells you, moving to his closet. “Let me give you some clothes.”

“Are you trying to announce to Mark and Hyuck that we’ve fucked?” you laugh, accepting the large t-shirt he throws your way.

“Trust me, Tiny, they’ll know.”

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“After this, I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself, and something tells me you won’t be able to either.” Johnny pulls on a hoodie, grabbing the tequila and turning to you. “I know you, remember?”

You grin, pulling on the pair of black boxer shorts he’d also sent your way. “Maybe a little too well.”

“Or not well enough,” Johnny suggests, approaching you again.

“You’re such a sweet talker.”

“Only for you,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss you again. “You look cute in my clothes.”

“Do I look like I just got fucked senseless?”

“Definitely.”

“Mark’s going to hate you,” you laugh.

“He’ll get over it,” Johnny brushes it off, reaching for your hand. “Ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You can still stay here if you want.”

“No, let’s face this now.” You need to be firm, need to get out of this love den before you find yourself even more loved up.

The two of you head to his door and Johnny holds it open for you.

In the time you’ve been fucking, it looks like a lot of people have dispersed from the party, so walking through the hallway isn’t exactly a walk of shame. However, when you get down the stairs to Mark’s floor, you realize you still have to pull up your big girl panties to face him.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom,” you tell Johnny, “I’ll meet you in Mark’s.”

“You don’t want me to come with you?”

“To the bathroom?” you laugh. “I think I’m good.”

With one last kiss, you make your way to the frat bathroom at the end of the hall. It’s important to go pee after sex, for UTI reasons, your sorority big sister has drilled that into you since first year. When you’re done, you head to the sink, daring a look at yourself in the dirty mirror.

You look fucked, but you also look happy.

In fact, you can’t stop smiling.

After washing your hands, you dab some water on your throat, hoping it will calm you down. Once you feel good and ready, you exit the bathroom.

Mark’s door is open when you get to his room, and you poke your head inside.

Jaehyun and Hyuck are on one bed, Mark and Johnny on the other, and they’re all lifting shots to their mouths. As you step inside, Mark’s gaze shifts to you. He takes in your new outfit and his eyes widen, then he spits out his shot, coughing loudly.

Johnny’s hand finds Mark’s back while he practically coughs up a lung, and then Mark is leaping to his feet. “What-” His eyes dart between you and Johnny, and you can see the realization there.

“Jesus, Mark, learn how to handle a shot,” Hyuck scoffs.

Mark doesn’t even entertain Hyuck, he simply turns to his big, pointing an accusatory finger at Johnny’s chest. “You’re Ghostie!?”

Johnny stands up. “You’re the one who gave me her number last year.”

“I what?!” Mark’s eyes are practically bulging out of his head now.

Hyuck and Jaehyun exchange a look, and Hyuck reaches for the tequila to pour another shot.

“Mark, it could be worse-” you say, trying to de-escalate the situation while stepping further into the room.

“How could it be worse!?” Mark bellows. “My Big is a stalker!”

“He’s not a stalker,” you defend Johnny, coming to join your tall new lover, your hand reaching for his.

“You’re her new boss!” Mark insists.

“Hyuck fucked our last bar manager,” Johnny points out.

“Guilty,” Hyuck smirks over the rim of his new shot.

Mark’s still not having any of this situation. “This is fucked up.”

“Mark, I’ve told you a million times, it’s spooky season.” You can’t help but giggle. This has been such a turn of events, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“You better not hurt her,” Mark says next, trying to meet Johnny’s gaze even while substantially shorter.

“I won’t,” Johnny promises.

“This is just-” Mark shakes his head. “Fuck this, I need to sleep.”

“We can move the party to my room,” Jaehyun says, already grabbing the bottle of tequila while Hyuck reaches for his bong.

It’s clear Mark’s done talking, and he collapses onto his bed face first like a tantruming toddler. You’ll discuss this with him another day, but you know now is probably not the time to push him to accept that his Big has a whole different side to him that Mark’s never seen.

As you leave the room with Hyuck, Johnny and Jaehyun, Hyuck elbows you in the side. “I always knew you’d end up with one of us.”

“Yeah?” you laugh, gaze shifting to Johnny and Jaehyun who walk a few feet ahead of you.

“Once an NCT girl, always an NCT girl,” Hyuck nods. “And between us…” he leans closer, “Johnny is a good one.”

Your Ghostie looks over his shoulder at you, and you meet his gaze with a smile. “He is,” you agree. “Hey, John?”

“Yes, Tiny?” He stops at the door to the stairwell, holding it open and allowing you to catch up.

“I changed my mind, I think I am done with the party tonight.”

“Yeah?” Johnny smirks. “Gonna come back to my room?”

“If you invite me.”

“Tiny, my room has an open-door policy for you now.”

“Is that so?” you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

“Uh huh,” Johnny grins. “And free cuddles, anytime you want them.”

“I like the sound of that,” you confess.

“Just get married already!” Hyuck shouts back at the two of you as he climbs the stairs with Jaehyun.

You and Johnny can only laugh at Hyuck. Your willpower is completely gone, and you allow your Ghostie to take you back to his room.

He cuddles you close as the party dies down outside, and you find yourself slipping into the best sleep of your life on Halloween night with your Ghostie by your side.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! Halloween is my favourite Holiday, and there's something about Johnny and horror genre that makes me go feral

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🔮 preview. There’s no way he should be this fucking sexy. You’re outside in the cold, parkas on, a Santa hat on his head, a joint between his lips, both your jeans down to your knees, his hand over your mouth to stifle your moans, and he’s about to fuck you against a wall with his massive cock- you’ve decided that Johnny as a whole is simply illegal.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, exhibitionism in an alley, weed use, slight temperature play, big dick Johnny, quickie, cum kink/filling panties with cum while at work, praise, dirty talk, size kink, hand over mouth silencing, choking, etc… I pet names: (hers) Tiny, pretty girl, good girl. (his) Ghostie.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 275

🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!reader

bonus

You’ve been dating Johnny for a month and a half and you still can’t get enough of him. Whenever you pop over to the frat, it’s not long before one of you is dragging the other to his room. There’s never been sexual chemistry like there is for you and your Ghostie.

You’d never thought your biggest hurdle in the workplace would be refraining from jumping your bar manager, but here you are, every shift, practically drooling over him. Each brush of his hands across your body as he moves behind you to grab something makes you want to tear his clothes off, and your patience is at an all-time low.

With Christmas fast approaching, the bar scene has substantially dwindled, and it’s making you even more needy. When Skeets only has a handful of customers, you fill drink orders while thinking about sucking on Johnny’s cock.

It doesn’t help that he’s started wearing a Santa hat- why does it make him even sexier?

As Johnny smiles and makes casual conversation with a pair of girls sitting at the bar, you do your best to calm yourself. At the end of the night, you’ll be the one in Johnny’s bed, you just have to get to closing.

You notice in the periphery of your vision that the girls are finishing up with their drinks. Johnny excuses himself to grab the card reader, and as he slips past your ass, you feel his hard cock in his jeans. It’s difficult to stifle a moan, and you do so by biting on your lip.

He loves teasing you, especially while you’re at work, and it drives you absolutely mental.

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daisynik7 · 8 months

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Pairing: Takuma Ino x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: explicit language, mentions of a popular horror movie, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), nipple play, blow job, mask kink, slight degradation (slut, whore), use of pet names (cutie, sweetie, baby)

Summary: You and your new boyfriend Ino decide to watch a horror movie together in honor of spooky season. Halfway through, he notices how skittish you are, making him want to play a silly prank on you with his signature ski mask. It’s all fun and games until he realizes that you actually like seeing him in this way more than he anticipated.

Author’s Note: Happy October y'all! What can I say, I am VERY into Takuma Ino right now and I just had to get this out of my system. This is barely edited or proofread, sorry for any grammar mistakes or typos, I really was just letting my fingers fly through this in a moment of passion LOL. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune.

You turn off all the lights, the only source of illumination coming from the TV screen, paused at the very start of the movie you decided to watch tonight. With a big bowl of freshly popped kernels in your grasp, you huddle beside your boyfriend, Ino, on the couch, covering both your legs with a fleece blanket. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in closer, reaching to grab a handful of popcorn to stuff inside his mouth. “Ready?” he muffles, pointing the remote to the screen, finger pressed to the center button.

Nuzzling your head against him, you answer. “Yup!”

It’s apparently one of those cult classic horror flicks according to Ino, who recommended it when you mentioned how you wanted to watch something scary for October. He’s seen it before, many times in fact, but he insists that you watch it. He has no clue how frightened you get over the silliest things, so tonight will be a treat for the both of you.

The opening scene plays out: a beautiful blonde picks up the phone and the conversation ends quickly short because it’s the wrong number. Normal so far, good. It rings again, but now the caller seems interested in talking. Do you like scary movies? Do you have a boyfriend? The man’s voice gives you the creeps, and you find yourself shuddering from it, cuddling closer to Ino, who glances at you with a smirk on his face.

You never told me your name.

Why do you want to know my name?

Because I want to know who I’m looking at.

This line gives you goosebumps and you lift the blankets up to hide behind it. “Ew, creepy!” Ino only laughs, throwing a few more pieces of popcorn into his mouth.

It escalates from here, getting increasingly chaotic and violent. By the time you’re halfway into the film, the bowl is down to its last kernels and you’re crouched in Ino’s lap, peeking through your fingers. He pauses the movie after one particularly brutal kill. “Snack break! I’m going to make some more popcorn and go pee.”

“You’re leaving?!” you whine, clinging on to him as he tries to get up.

He chuckles. “Babe! It’s just a movie. I’ll be right back, okay?” He kisses you on the forehead, heading into the kitchen, leaving you alone in the living room.

Of course it’s just a movie, but you can’t help feeling creeped out in the dark like this. You reach for one of the nightstands, turning on the lamp. You hear the drone of the microwave, and after a minute or so, the distinct sound of popping. Eventually, it comes to a stop, and the entire house is eerily quiet. You’re tempted to call out for Ino, wondering where he is, but you remember that he had to use the bathroom.

Suddenly, a shadowy figure appears right behind on you on the couch, grabbing your shoulders and shouting gibberish at you. You scream bloody murder, ready to punch him and run away when Ino lifts his ski mask up to reveal himself, tears streaming down his face, cracking up at you.

“Ino!” you yell at him, slapping his hands away from you. “You fucking asshole!”

He doubles over, cackling, wiping his eyes. It takes a good while for him to regain his composure as you glare at him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m sorry, baby. I just couldn’t resist.” He sits beside you, stretching his arms out for a hug. “You have to admit, that was fucking hilarious.”

You shake your head, refusing. “You’re such a dick.”

“Oh, come on! It was just a little prank. Now you’ll be way more prepared for the rest of the movie!” He pulls the mask over his face again, everything covered except the holes for his eyes. “See? Not so scary anymore, right?”

You inspect him carefully, still pouting, not saying a word.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. Truly. I promise not to scare you again.” He scoots towards you, nudging you in the arm.

You roll your eyes at him, relaxing. “Fine.”

“Can I get a kiss now?”

He tries to lift his mask up, but you stop him, pulling it back down. “I don’t want to see your face right now. I’m still annoyed, you know.”

“Aw man! Really?”

You hoist it just past his nose, leaning in to give him a soft kiss on the lips. When you break apart, he smirks at you. “You like this, don’t you? Seeing me with my mask on.”

You shrug, a sly grin on your face, neither confirming nor denying his accusation. Sure, you were a bit upset at first, when he scared the shit out of you. But seeing his face covered like that may have sparked a desire in you that you never knew you had, until now.

“Oh my god! You do, you do!” he exclaims, shaking your arm. “My cutie has a mask kink!”

“Shut up, asshole!” you yell at him, pretending to shove him off, smiling.

“You’re a fucking freak!” he giggles, pouncing on you. He starts tickling you along your ribcage, causing you to squirm beneath him as he straddles you, trapping you between his legs. His fingers flutter under your arms, stroking your sensitive skin.

“Ino!” you cry out, laughing from the sensation.

You can feel his cock growing hard in his pants, balls heavy on your stomach. Suddenly, he stops, mask still folded to expose his lips, leaning down to kiss you sloppily. He pins your hands above your head, locking his fingers with yours. He slips inside your mouth, grazing your tongue with his, hungry for your saliva. “Fuck,” he moans into you, nipping at your bottom lip. “You like this freaky shit, don’t you? Nasty slut.” His playful tone is laden with lust now, low and sultry, mouth brushing along your neck, sucking at your pulse points to mark you.

You whine his name, wrapping your legs around his waist, grinding yourself against him.

“Look at you, getting so fucking dumb all because of my mask,” he purrs. “What else turns you on, cutie? Tell me.”

Without thinking, you blurt out, “Spit. Your spit. I want it.”

“Oh shit,” he swears, licking his mouth. He traces the outline of your lips, beckoning you to open up, dribbling a thick wad of saliva inside you. You gulp it down, sticking your tongue out for more.

“Oh fuck, you’re nasty,” he says, doing it again. “Makes me so fucking horny seeing you like this. Seeing my cutie act like a fucking whore.” He slips beneath your shirt, fondling your bare breasts, flicking your peaked nipples with his thumbs.

“Fuck, Ino,” you whisper, pussy throbbing in your panties, arousal leaking through the fabric.

“You like it when I play with your tits, huh?” Like it when I pinch them hard like this.” He squeezes them between his thumb and index finger, enough pressure to stimulate you, making you moan his name again and again.

He swears under his breath, shoving his pants down his legs, shimmying out of them until he’s only in his underwear now, erection stiff in his boxers. “You gonna suck my cock now or what, slut?”

You nod, kneeling in front of him, knees on the carpet, spreading his thighs apart. He lifts his ass off the couch to slide out of his boxers, letting them fall around his ankles. You kiss the tip of his dick, smearing his precum around your lips like gloss before swallowing him into your mouth.

He lets out a drawn out, “Fuck,” watching you with wide eyes as you bob up and down his shaft. Voice shaky, he asks, “Can I put my hands on you?”

Something about him in this ski mask makes you want to be submissive, makes you want to be used. You grab both his hands, guiding them towards the sides of your head, giving him free rein to manhandle you.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, gripping you tighter, gradually thrusting his hips in tandem with you. His cockhead hits the back of your throat, teasing your gag reflex, but you resist, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes, enduring it.

Noticing you, he pulls out, a string of spit between you. “Baby, baby. Please don’t force yourself. I don’t want to hurt you.” He reaches to his side, grabbing a tissue from the table beside the couch, wiping away the spit around your mouth and the tears in your eyes. “Come here, cutie. I want to make you feel good too.”

You strip out of your bottoms, straddling his lap, pussy wet and aching against him. He moans as you rock back and forth on his shaft, pressing his thumb to your clit, massaging it. “There we go. Now we both can feel good, yeah?”

After a few more strokes, you beg him to fuck you, lifting up to guide his cock inside you slowly, sinking down on him until he bottoms out. You bounce on him, his hands gripped to your waist, guiding you, moaning your name between expletives.

As you approach your orgasm, you pull up his mask, placing it on his head as he usually wears it. He smiles brightly at you, nuzzling his nose to yours. “There’s my pretty girl. Can you come for me now? Come all over this cock?”

You kiss him passionately, arms wrapped around his neck as he thrusts into you, hands squeezed on your ass now. You reach your climax, moaning into his mouth. He comes with you, shooting his load deep into your womb, filling you up with his cream pie. The two of you continue to kiss slowly, catching your breaths. He caresses your back while you melt into his embrace.

“We need to establish a safe word,” he suggests, cradling you in his arms. “I want to make sure I’m not hurting you.”

You hum into his skin, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Popcorn."

He chuckles, stroking the back of your neck gently. “Alright. Popcorn it is.” A beat later, he exclaims, “Popcorn! I totally forgot about the popcorn!”

You laugh, giving your boyfriend a wet smooch on the cheek.

#takuma ino #ino takuma #takuma ino x reader #takuma ino smut #ino takuma smut #ino takuma x reader #takuma ino x you #ino takuma x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months

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DCxDP Fanfic idea: Wrong Number

Bruce prides himself in keeping all of his networks secured. If he didn't make it himself, he had the funds and connections to get him the best working on his systems.

He had backup plans in case the systems were ever hacked, of course, but he had yet to encounter a cyber attack that wasn't beaten away by his firewalls or his team.

Babs and Tim were far more feral when booting out unwanted guests. The level of protection was also transferred to his other systems that weren't Batman-related, just to make sure the connection between Bruce and Batman was never made.

That's why he never really checks his personal phone's caller ID, not the one he gave out as Brucie Wayne, but the one Bruce used for his real life without any masks- civilian or vigilante. The only ones who had the number- and the access- were his children and Alfred.

Not even the Justice League- those who were aware of his identity- knew of this number.

Bruce is in the middle of typing up a report for the next Wayne Board meeting when his personal phone rings. He figures it's Dick giving him a call to update him on his drive home or maybe Jason, as his son was planning on going to college.

"Go for Papa Bruce," He says, knowing his kids hate his phone greeting and doing it deliberately to spite them.

There is a long pause where he can't help but smirk thinking his child is either rolling their eyes or cringing too hard to properly speak. Eventually, a voice cracks over the speaker.

"Hello. I'm selling cookies to raise money for my own star. Would like to buy a box from me?" says a boy, not one he has taken in. The voice is young maybe not even double digits yet. Bruce is alarmed.

"Who are you?! How did you get this number?" He demands, yanking his phone to his face and seeing, with a chill, a phone number out of state.

His system had been compromised. By a child. By accident.

"My name is Danny!" The boy chirps. "I sell cookies. Like the Girl Scouts, but I'm a boy, and I don't scout."

"That's rather fantastic, lad. What kind of cookies are you selling?" Bruce asks to keep the boy on the line while sending an email blast to the others. It's a string of numbers that are code for compromise so they all know to close any communication channel until it's safe to get back on.

"Chocolate chip. Mint Slim. Oatmeal and peanut butter. I made them myself!"

Right. Bruce hooks up his phone, tracing the call. The signal bounces off the call, swinging up to a salute and falling back down to earth. In seconds he has the boy's location. It pings in a small town right outside of Star City.

He sends Barry a private message. His friend is already on the way to the location. He'll get the boy in a few seconds.

"How much for a box of chocolate chips? Those are my favorite." Bruce tells the boy, voice whimsical as his Brucie persona demands.

In an unsure tone, the boy pauses, then whispers, "I don't know. No one ever let me get this far."

"How about twenty for a box of dozen? I'll buy five boxes for each of my kids that live at him," Bruce tells him, and the boy gasps.

"That could buy me one whole night in a hotel!"

Bruce's insides freeze. What did he mean-

"Hey! No! Let go!" Danny suddenly screams. Bruce's heart launches- he hates it when kids get hurt, especially those that sound like Danny- until Barry's voice comes over the speaker.

"I got him, Mr. Wayne. Thank you for alerting the Justice League Hotline." That's code for This is not a threat to you Batman and Bruce allows himself to relax just a little.

"Narc!" The boy shouts, outraged, before the call drops. Barry is likely taking over the situation, which means Bruce can leave it in his capable hands.

After reassuring his kids that he is fine and that they are all safe, he suits up and meets the Flash in the Watch Tower. There, he learns that Danny is only seven years old and has been living on the streets for a while.

The boy had been surviving by baking some cookies to sell on the side of the street- where did he bake them? The boy would not say- until he got the bright idea to try to sell through phone calls like he had seen on TV.

He punched in random numbers at the community center phone and gave his pitch about a star, thinking people would be more willing to buy from him if he had an excellent reason.

Barry had left him with CPS, but he looked devastated about that. It turned out that Danny was a meta and had likely been kicked out of his home once it was found out based on what he said of his parents.

Bruce felt he should assure Barry that Danny was fine and look into his placement to help settle his more sensitive teammate's nerves.

He was unhappy that Danny was not in a good placement; there were far too many reports from a concerned neighbor to make him think it was a safe place. Given the fact that placement had a lot of meta kids that "fell through the cracks," Bruce worried he had just stumbled across a trafficking ring.

He would sick Barry and Jason on them. Just to ensure they wouldn't see the light of day again.

Still, that did not fix his mistake with Danny, the little cookie seller.

Bruce hacked into the system to move Danny. He thought about where he would move the young child but ultimately had him in Wayne Manor.

Just until he could confirm that he would be safe. He certainly didn't think about the adorable little boy who called him with his heart in his hand and got sent to a terrible place for three weeks because of Bruce.

Danny arrived at Wayne Manor with a happy little bounce and a chipper outlook on life than Bruce was expecting. "If it isn't Mr. Narc!"

God, he going to adopt the boy, isn't he?

(Danny has been thrown into a different universe, aged down to a child. He survived by overshadowing people into letting him spend the night baking cookies.

He was thrown into a somewhat typical home, but the nosy neighbor down the street took far too much notice of his overshadowing, and now he was being moved again.

Maybe he can terrorize Mr. Narc now instead? )

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Danny de-age #Dimension travel #Crack #Basically He overshaowed people and everyone lost their minds about it #Barry will fight Bruce for Danny #Danny will make it his life goal to be Bruce's life hell

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hxzbinwrites · 4 months

Note

Idk if you do headcanons or one shots but either or will be fine:

Can I pretty please get a Vox x Emotionless! Reader?

Plot can be whatever you want but just to (hopefully) give some ideas… maybe Vox had no interest in Reader but then uh oh she smiled! Now Vox has a crush (°▽°)

But yeah lol thank you!! Have a good day!

Vox x Emotionless! Reader | Lovestruck Fool |

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, Vox is a horrible boss

10:00am

(Y/n) walked into Vox’s office, holding an folder with today’s date and Vox’s name on it.

“Mr. Vox.” She said, her dead eyes watching her boss turn around in his excessively large chair.

“Hm, what is it (Y/n)?” He said, giving her a single glance before turning back to his monitors

“You have three meetings today sir. 1:00pm with Velvette in her portion of the tower. 2:30pm with Valentino in the main conference room, and someone scheduled a 4:00 with you, a Mr. Alastor? Called in today for an urgent meeting.”

Vox slammed his hands down on the desk, his face glitching in seething anger. “THAT PRICK!! CALL BACK AND TELL HIM I WILL NOT BE ATTENDING ANY SORT OF MEETING WITH HIM!!”

“He called from a public telephone sir, I can’t trace the caller ID.” (Y/n) said, clearly unfazed by his temper tantrum.

“DAMN IT!” He said, punching a smaller monitor on his right,”DONT YOU EVER LET HIM SCHEDULE ANOTHER MEETING WITH ME OR VOXTECH EVER AGAIN!!!”

Vox turned around, pointing one of his clawed fingers in your deadpanned face.

“Okay sir, is that all?”

“UGH!!” He said, clenching his fists to his side,”WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?? IM AN OVERLORD, I AM THE VOX, YOU SHOULD BE QUIVERING IN FEAR!! IM YELLING MY HEAD OFF AT YOU AND YOU CANT EVEN FORM AN EXPRESSION?? ARE YOU BRAINDEAD??”

(Y/n) slowly blinks, before looking down and rummaging through the folder she still held. “Ah, I almost forgot. Mr. Alastor requested his meeting also in the main conference room. If you need another reminder about your meetings today just call me-“

She was cut off once more by Vox, screaming and yelling, throwing things hazardously across the room. “JUST LEAVE.”

“Alright sir.” (Y/n) said, immediately turning away and walking towards the door.

————

4:45pm

(Y/n) was at her desk, taking calls and rearranging Vox’s schedule for tomorrow when her work phone buzzed.

“Hello? This is (Y/n) with Voxtech. How may I-“

“(Y/n). My office. Now.”

“Sir? This isn’t your work phone number? How can I be sure that this is-“

“MY OFFICE. NOW.”

(Y/n) could hear his voice glitching over the phone before she hung up, and briskly made her way to the door of his office.

She walked in to his Vox in his obnoxiously large chair, his hands covering his screen as he sighed in exhaustion.

“Ah, sir. You called me?”

“Yes (Y/n). I have installed safety features into your desk. Don’t except meetings from Alastor. If he comes in here, press the button under your monitor. He is NEVER allowed in this building.”

“Okay sir.” She said, making a note of that on her smartwatch,”Will that be all?”

“Can you get me a coffee…?”

“Right away sir.”

————

5:00pm

“Here’s your coffee sir.” (Y/n) said, setting it in his outreached hand.

“Thank you (Y/n)” He said, taking a single sip before doing a spit take. On one of the monitors around the city, it showed Velvette and Alastor chatting to one another.

“WHAT?!?” Vox yelled, being as “careful” as he usually is, his coffee flies into the air before landing on his shirt. He hissed in pain at the hit liquid, scrambling around before tripping on the various wires around his monitor setup (that was replaced after his previous temper tantrum) and landing on his ass.

Vox looked up in shock to see (Y/n) covering half of her mouth, revealing a smile. Tears brimmed her eyes as she tried to respectfully hold in her laughter.

Vox’s face felt red hot. Out of embarrassment and admiration. Why didn’t she smile more? Oh that smile, if she could remove her hand it would reveal its full glory. Let him soak it in. Her eyes filled with life and laughter. Has she always been this….beautiful? Yes, I think she has. She has indeed.

She let out a little snort before regaining her composure, before crouching down in front of him, taking the napkins provided with the coffee, and starting to wipe off as much of the liquid as possible. He felt her delicate hands rub across his chest. He hope she didn’t feel his erratic heartbeat.

He wanted this. He’s yearned for this and he didn’t even know it. Vox’s breathing became as erratic as his heartbeat, almost in sync. He felt sweat starting to drip, wether it be from the hot coffee adorning his now ruined shirt or from the stunning woman and her hands on his chest.

Trying to get as much as she could, (Y/n) scooted even closer, not realizing her hips were hovering right over his. Vox’s mind was running wild, his screen glitching and flicking between different error signals. His hands floating near the handles of her hips. Taking a gulp, he almost put his hands on her skin. Almost. He ended up just leaving his hands there, leaving a ghostly stabilization to the assistant who was cleaning him up like a toddler who spilt his apple juice.

(Y/n) looked up at Vox’s eyes, their eyes locking onto one another. A small smile could be faintly seen across her lips before it went back to its neutral state.

She helped him to his feet, her soft hands gently pulling on his clawed ones, slowly helping him to his feet. Handing him the remaining napkins. “I’ll schedule a trip to the dry cleaners. Does 3:45 tomorrow work well for you?”

Vox sat back down, his eyes wide in shock from what just happened. “Yeah, sure, whatever. I don’t care.”

“Alright sir, I’ll get that done, and then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay…”

(Y/n) walked out, the door closing behind her. Leaving the room back in it’s inky black darkness, with the exception of the glowing monitors.

Vox looked at his reflection in the main monitor. He could see his goofy smile. His blush adorning his cheeks. His eyes lighting up like a child who knows no sin. He looked like what he was, a lovestruck fool. A lovestruck fool for his assistant.

————

Word Count: 1006

(sorry it’s so short, i’m trying to get as many requests done as i can 😭)

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idanceuntilidie · 5 months

Note

Hii! Can i request yan cheater with male reader? I really like your writing, and I also love you sm! Have a nice day 💗💗💗💗

Thank you so much I'm gonna cry, I love you too!! Sorry if this is wonky, today was a very exhausting day for me mentally. I hope you enjoy anyway <3 come again :D i made the cheater male I hope you don't mind--

Yandere Cheater x M!Reader

Requests are open

TW: yandere behaviours, breaking and enetering, slightly digusting parts including human hair and organs.

Ciaran was quite special. Very handsome, always surrounded by people. You aren’t sure if being with him was a blessing or a curse.

He swore he was yours only, but you can’t help but feel hurt when he is flirting with someone right in front of you. There are also times where his phone blows with notifications from different people. It hurt, your heart felt like it was shattering just to be put back and destroyed again.

But the last straw was when you got a message from one of his lovers, they got a moment ofweakness, they felt bad and spilled everything out in a long message. The cherry on top were screenshots and photos of them kissing each other.

You were sure this time your heart just ceases to exist. You cried a lot that day, not ready to face Ciaran. You packed his things and left them outside of the door.

It baffled him how you would leave him just like that, it was just a small misunderstanding. It was, he thinks, just one time thing. You got just oh so boring he couldn’t take it anymore. He still loves you! He really does.

He missed your smile, your smell, how beautiful you looked in the rising sun when you just woke up. His heart squeezes in his chest. Another night spent waiting by your door, you won’t let him in of course, but he just likes to sit there, happily humming when he sees you through your windows. It became a routine, you never called the cops on him, which means you still must like him. Hope burned in his chest, and slowly the obsession for you began.

And he will get his little boyfriend back. You don’t feel safe in your house anymore, Ciarian gave up on sitting outside of your house yes, but now you can’t stop receiving messages and calls from random numbers.

Sometimes the caller breathes, silently stuttering your name, sometimes even moaning. Calling you his little pretty boy and shit. It made your stomach twist. You called the police many times, but at this point they just don’t believe you because of your lack of evidence. Lazy bastards. You also began receiving gifts, your favorite food, drinks, clothes that fit you perfectly. There was well, one time where your friend was over and one of these gifts appeared, with a card attached to it. A box of chocolates.

You were very tired that day, barely keeping yourself awake, you told your friend to take it. They accepted gladly, and began to eat while you went to the kitchen to make some coffee for you and them, that's when you heard a shriek and gagging sounds. You ran to your friend and saw them pulling hair out of their mouth, there was some skin attached to it. Your friend threw up soon after.

So, after that incident their gifts landed in trash. You feared what you might find out in them next. You don’t feel safe here, but you don’t have enough money to move. So like a rational person, you took another shift. The less you are home the better. It turns out you were wrong.

You came back in the middle of the night, you were practically falling asleep while standing up. You took off your shoes and headed to the kitchen for a sip of water so you can head to bed. When you turned on the light you froze in place. A beautifully wrapped heart shaped box sat on the counter waiting. You swallowed, body moving on your own. The gifts never appeared inside of your house. Hell, they are getting bolder with each gift. As you got closer to the box, a foul smell filled your senses. It was sweet, a little fruity. Your shaking hands hovered over the opening of the box, carefully lifting up the lid.

Your scream echoed through the house, as you fell down to the floor. Inside of the box was a human heart, carefully placed and surrounded by your favourite flowers.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and a warm breath on your cheek.

Ciaran.

Your breath hitched, you didn’t dare to move as his bloody hands wrapped around your shaking form.

“Did you like my gift? Only the best for my boyfriend, do you forgive me now? Look how much I have done for you.” He kissed your cheek.

“I forgive you for kicking me out, I’m a better man after all of this has ended you know? Now we can be together forever.”

#yandere cheater #yan cheater #yandere male #yan male #yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere x male reader #male yandere x male reader #x reader #x male reader #tw yandere #yandere blog #oc yandere #yandere x darling #male yandere

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spdrwdw · 7 months

Text

Art by marmar0u on instagram

Pairing: GhostFace!Miguel x f!reader

warnings: 18+, Smut, Roleplay, oral (m/f receiving) , unprotected intercourse, hair-pulling, choking, no use of y/n, slight hair pulling

Summary: It's Halloween and you in for a trick and treat of your life.

A/N: Thank you to the anon who requested GhostFace! Miguel! Sorry if this on kinda sucks. I'm not good with writing scary, suspenseful stuff lol. I did use some of the dialogue from the first movie and tweaked it a bit. If you want to be tagged in my future fics, just let me know! Or, you can also turn on notifications for my page and get notified whenever I post. I hope everyone enjoys and have a safe and fun Halloween!

Word Count: 2.8k ( I promise I'll make my fics longer one day)

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.

It was Halloween night, and you were home alone. The tv was on, playing some random scary movie. You had music also playing in the background.

Trick-or-treaters would be constantly ringing the doorbell. At first, you thought about simply leaving the bowl of candy by the doorstep, but you loved seeing all the costumes the kids and teenagers were wearing.

You were wearing a costume, yourself. A simple angel. Nothing too flashy since you were simply handing out candy. Just a halo and wings in a white t-shirt and white shorts. You wore your more “suggestive” costume at last weekend’s Halloween party a friend threw.

While making your way to the kitchen to make yourself some popcorn, you heard your cell phone ring. It was a number you’ve never seen before, but it had your area code, so you decided to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hello?” A voice on the other end responded.

“Yes?” You replied back.

“Who is this?”

“Who are you trying to reach?” You asked, slightly confused.

“What number is this?”

“What number are you trying to reach?” Honestly. Dude dialed the number, right?

“I don’t know.” Ugh.

“Well, I think you have the wrong number. It happens. Take it easy,” and with that, you ended the call and began to head back to the microwave to check on the popcorn before your phone rang again.

Reaching back over for it, you checked the caller ID. It was the same number. Should you pick it up? At first, you thought about letting it ring but, eh, whatever. You answered it.

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry. I guess I dialed the wrong number,” the same guy on the other end responded.

“So why did you dial it again?” You asked.

“To apologize,” he replied.

“Well, you’re forgiven. Bye, now.”

“Wait! wait. Don’t hang up. I want to talk to you for a sec.”

“Why?” Okay, this was getting a little weird. You really should just hang up.

“Just want to know a little more about you. How about telling me your name?” He asked. “I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” you rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

“Well, do you have a boyfriend?” He changed the subject.

“Why? Do you want to ask me out on a date?”

“Maybe? Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” as if you were going to give this guy a truthful response. Plus, you did have a boyfriend, so you wouldn’t have accepted either way.

“You never told me your name.” There he goes again, asking for your name.

You were now walking around your house, organizing some things as you entertained this weirdo.

“Why do you want to know my name?” No really. Why?

“Because I want to know who I’m looking at.”

What?

You suddenly stopped, feeling your heart drop.

“What did you say?” Your voice now grew quiet.

“I want to know who I’m talking to.”

“That’s not what you said,” you pointed out as you began making your way around the house, turning more lights on, as well as the lights from your back porch. You really should hang up and call the police if this guy was stalking you from somewhere.

“Then what did you think I said?” He asked. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

“What do you want?” You knew if you hung up now, he would just call back. So, you made another round around the house to make sure everything was closed and locked.

“I just want to know your name.”

“You don’t need to know my name. Now what do you want from me?” You questioned.

“I just wanted to talk. Maybe go out together on a date.”

Now you were peaking through the curtains, making sure no one was actually outside. Which was futile since there were still a lot of people out trick-or-treating. Maybe he was just messing around. But, you wanted to be sure.

“Can you see me?” He suddenly asked.

How did he know you were looking for him? “Listen, I am two seconds away from calling the police.” Your voice was now shaky, as well as your body.

“They’d never make it in time. It’s Halloween. Probably think you’re prank calling them or something.”

“What do you want?” You asked, your voice cracking and tears welling over your eyes.

The line was quiet for a second, then you heard him chuckle.

“To see what your insides feel like.”

The line disconnected, and there was a sudden flicker of the lights. He was here. He had to be.

You were checking every single closet and door, your heart beating fast, panicking. Where was he? He had to be somewhere in your house.

Your cell phone rang again. You didn’t bother to check the number. You knew it was him.

“What do you want?” You asked, your voice shaking as you struggled to hold the phone in your hand.

No response.

“This isn’t funny! I’m going to call the police!” You threatened as you pressed your back against the wall, trying to keep your eyes everywhere.

You heard the man chuckling again at the other end, causing goosebumps to raise the thin hairs on your arms.

“Aww! Don’t be like that, baby. I’m just having some fun.” You could practically hear him smirking.

“Well, I’m not!” You spat before the lights began to flicker again.

“Stop it!”

“Alright, alright. You’re being such a party-pooper. Here, I’ll tell you what. I’ll stop messing with you, if you let me fuck you.”

“Excuse me?!” You gasped, eyes widened.

“Come on. It’ll be fun. I’ll even keep my mask on,” he cooed.

“No way!”

“Why not? It’s Halloween. I’m a trick-or-treater. I already did my tricks, now I’m ready for my treat.”

“I-I have a boyfriend!” You then blurted out.

“You just told me you didn’t.”

“I know that.”

“So that ‘no’’ was a yes? I don’t like that you lied to me like that. Hmm..well, he doesn’t have to know, baby. It’ll be our little secret.”

“No,” you replied.

“Alright. Fine. We can do this the hard way,” he responded just before the lights went completely dark. The line cut off on the other end, and you were left with silence.

You covered your mouth and tried to calm down. You had to find something to defend yourself with. Maybe a baseball bat or something. Or you could go back to the kitchen and grab a pan or knife.

Without removing yourself from the wall, you began to make your way to the kitchen.

In the dark, you quickly made your way to the drawers and found a knife before proceeding to turn on the flashlight on your phone just as you heard something coming from upstairs.

“Shit shit shit!” You breathed, gripping onto the knife with one hand and your phone with the other before you slowly began to make your way up the stairs , looking all around you.

You jumped when you heard a door slam behind you, and you slowly turned around to see a dark figure at the end of the hall.

“Who are you?!” You called out, taking a couple steps back, still gripping the knife tightly. Your legs began to tremble a bit.

The figure then turned around. A white ghost-like mask covered their face. You could hear a low chuckle coming from them as they began to take a step closer, holding their own, bloody knife in his hand.

“Get away from me! I’m serious!” You threatened, but he continued to make his way closer to you, so, you dashed into your bedroom, not noticing something on the floor that caused you to trip and fall onto your bed, the knife slipped out of your hand, along with your phone, both landing on the floor with a thump.

Once you managed to push your body up, you glanced over your shoulder and saw the figure standing right behind you, causing you to scream. You tried to scramble back, but he grabbed one of your legs, lifting the knife towards you to strike.

You quickly reached for a pillow and started hitting him with it. It worked for a second, and he stumbled back. But, it gave you enough time to get out of bed.

However, your efforts were not sufficient,and he grabbed you, tossing you back onto the bed with a thump before he crawled over you, pinning your hands behind your head and straddling your waist.

A low chuckle could be heard coming from him before he leaned over and whispered against your ear, “You’re so cute when you’re scared.”

Your heart pounded against your chest, struggling to break free as tears pricked over your eyes.

“Please, let me go..” you whimpered.

“Not until I get my treat, sweetheart,” he reminded her as he sat up and began to pull down his pants underneath the black cloak.

“Aye, mierda, this thing..”he huffed under his breath as he hiked the cloak up above his waist.

Wait a second. That voice..it sounded familiar. Too familiar. And there was only one person you knew who would curse like that.

“M-Miguel?”

“Yeah?” He paused, looking down at you through his mask, his persona now forgotten.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! It was you doing this the whole time?!” You shrieked as you started smacking him, hitting him with all your might.

“You asshole!”

Miguel simply laughed as he grabbed hold of your hands.

“Come on, nena! I was just messing with you!” He continued to laugh. “You should’ve seen the look on your face. It was adorable.”

“G-get off of me!” You were pissed at the stunt your boyfriend pulled.

“But I want my treat,” you just knew that he was pouting under his mask.

“I’m not giving you anything you big jerk! Now get off and turn my lights back on!” You demanded, shoving him off of you.

“Fine,” he muttered before fixing himself and got off the bed and headed out of your room.

You laid in your bed for a moment, trying to relax. You never thought Miguel would do such a thing. He really had you scared shitless.

Shaking your head and gathering your thoughts, you got up from bed, grabbing the knife you dropped on the floor and began to make your way downstairs just as the lights came back on.

Miguel was already in the kitchen, mask removed and munching on the popcorn you had made.

You placed the knife back where it belonged before turning to face Miguel, crossing your arms over your chest.

Miguel looked over at you after popping some more popcorn into his mouth, giving you a cheeky grin.

“Heeey..” he reached over to you, pulling you over by the arm. “Don’t be mad. Please. Forgive me?”

He gave you big puppy dog eyes. And for someone as big as him, it was actually adorable. But you were still mad at him. He actually had you fearing for your life.

“No,” you respond curtly, glaring up at him. Why did he think you would just forgive him so easily?

“How did you even get in here?” You asked as he pulled you into a tight hug.

“You showed me where you keep your spare key, remember?”

“Oh, yeah..”

“Soo..”he smirked then. “Can I get my treat now?”

“You’re insufferable. Fine! Fine,” you finally agreed with a nod. “But, I swear if you do something like that again, I’m breaking up with you."

Miguel gave you a toothy grin before pulling his mask back down before pulling out his knife from under his cloak. With closer inspection, you realize it was just a fake prop knife with red paint over it.

“Wait, how did you change your voice?” You suddenly asked.

Miguel pulled out a little box-like device and held it to his face before speaking to it, his voice sounding completely different.

“Oh.”

“Now, let’s have some fun, shall we?” Miguel stated before he started chasing you around the kitchen, with you now playing along.

After you had given the last of the candy out to trick-or-treaters and finished up the popcorn, you and Miguel were upstairs in your room, with you on your knees, sucking him off.

He was still clad in his costume, having his cloak bunched up around his waist.

“Oh, fuck, that’s it. Just like that,” he groaned, tilting his head back as you bobbed your head and pumped him in your hand. You couldn’t help but to slip your hand into your panties and finger yourself, letting out moans around his cock.

He began to thrust into your mouth, holding your head still with his hand. You continued to finger yourself.

“Such a naughty little angel you are, nena. Taking my cock in so well,” he praised before letting out another groan, feeling himself close to his orgasm. However, he pulled himself out of your mouth, stunting his release. He wanted to be inside you for that. He pulled up on onto your feet before he knelt down before you, removing his mask before shooting you a playful wink and removed your white shorts and panties before half of his face disappeared between your legs.

You let out a moan when you felt it. His tongue, running along your folds, picking up your wetness with greed. He lifted you up by the thighs, placing a hand on your back before lifting you up on the floor and blindly made his way to the closet wall, pinning you there.

“Oh, Miguel!” You whined, tilting your head back against the wall, squeezing his head between your thighs as he slurped and nipped at your aching pussy.

Muffled moans could be heard coming from his mouth, sending vibrations through your body. You started bucking your hips against her mouth, needing more of his tongue.

You let out another whine, needing more. You needed more of him. You needed him inside you.

“Migueeeel!” You pouted as you continued to grind your hips against him. All he needed was his mouth to send you over the edge, and he knew how to use it well. He had you seeing stars and reaching for the moon with how his tongue danced along your bundle of nerves and slipped into your soaking pussy.

However, he pulled away before you were able to reach your peak.

“No!” You cried out, causing him to chuckle. He gently removed you from his shoulders and carried you to your bed, dropping you.

“Don’t fret, nena. We got all night. It’s still Halloween. And I am going to enjoy my treat for as long as I can. I did tell you and wanted to feel your insides, after all,” he said as he slipped his mask back down and took off everything else, leaving himself naked.

He proceeded to remove most of your clothes, leaving just your halo and wings on before flipping you over so you were on your stomach.

“On your hands and knees, angelita,” he ordered, giving you ass a playful smack, causing you to let out a yelp. You did as he said and positioned yourself before him, ass in the air and face down onto the mattress.

You could hear him stroking himself in his hand, and the sound made your mouth water.

“I know you want me in that tight little pussy, nena. Don’t worry, I got you,” Miguel smirked before plunging himself into your warm, wet cunt, causing you to arch your back and cry out his name.

Miguel didn’t wait to set at a brutal pace, pivoting himself against you, balls slapping against your clit. You let out a lewd moan, your eyes rolling back just as Miguel grabbed a fistful of your hair and leaned over, his phone in hand. He took a quick photo of the two of you.

“You better not show that to anyone,” you whimpered.

“Of course not. This is all for me. No one gets to see you like this, angelita,” Miguel cooed, and you felt him resting his masked face against your hair, as if trying to give you a kiss.

“Now, you gonna cum for me?”

You could feel him hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars, and you cried out a ‘yes’ in response, nodding your head.

“Yes! Yes yes! I will! Please..just like that!”

“That’s my girl,” he praised, giving your ass a hard smack that had you cumming instantly.

You gripped onto the bed sheets as Miguel continued to thrust into you past your orgasm. He loved filling you up and mixing your juices with his. And that’s just what he did. A couple more thrusts and he came inside you.

“Oh, fuck..that felt good,” Miguel sighed as he slowly pulled out of you, marveling at how your cunt dripped with his seed.

Taking off his mask completely, he pulled you into his arms and kissed you passionately.

“I’m still mad at you,” you reminded him, poking him hard on the chest.

He simply laughed and pecked your lips a couple of times. “Sorry, nena. I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he cooed, nuzzling his face against your neck.

“Happy Halloween.”

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.

@xaaaaaaax, @randomwriteralan, @migueloharastruelove, @camzzn

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel smut #spiderman 2099

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lizzyk137 · 2 months

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Picture Perfect- A Sepencer Reid Fanfic (Spencer Reid X Reader)

Summary: After months of not hearing from Spencer you move on, breaking both of your hearts. What he wasn't expecting was a frantic call from you one night. Warnings: Fluff, slight panic.

Want to read more, visit my Masterlist!

"Spence, please tell me you're going home after this." JJ said, eyes squinted as she watched him fiddle with stuff on his desk.

He cleared his throat and nodded before answering. "I will. I just want to make sure everything is ready for when I come back into work tomorrow."

"Are you thinking it's going to be a long night?" Morgan interjected jokingly.

Spencer just rolled his eyes and went back to making sure everything was in its proper spot.

Rossi came down the stairs and headed towards the small gathering that as forming around Spencer. His brows raised at Spencer dawdling. "Still avoiding things?"

"No, I'm just straightening up before leaving for the day."

"Reid, we're profilers, we know you're avoiding going home." Rossi smirked. "Go home, she's waiting for you."

"Fine, I will." Spencer collected his belongings and headed to the elevators knowing his team was watching him go. He headed towards the bus stop after being cleared to leave, his thoughts going a mile a minute.

He had been away for seven months working at the Las Vegas's FBU headquarters, helping train and work on cases. It at first started off as a case the whole team was invited in but as time went on trying to catch a team of killers, Spencer enjoyed being near his mom and decided to take on mentoring for a few months. He thought it was a smart move, but he never took into account of one thing. You.

He left one day then never came back. That was how you saw it. He didn't answer his phone for three weeks, his head focused solely on catching the monsters behind all the killings. All you had gotten back as a reply from the many calls and texts was a few sentences telling you that he would be staying there for a few months and that he was okay. At first you were okay with the decision, knowing what he was doing was for the good of the city and that what he was teaching was saving lives. But the texts and calls started to slow down and eventually you would count yourself lucky if he answered you back a week later.

Spencer was so busy helping on cases that he would forget to text you back, but he thought you understood. It wasn't until he came home to find the shared apartment empty of your belongings. At first, he was frantic, searching for you everywhere, but that turned to desperation and then quickly turned to a broken heart. You wouldn't reply back to any of his calls or texts, and he tried to get Penelope to find you, which he gave him a hard no a stern glare before turning back to her computers.

He didn't understand what he did wrong until the team pulled him to the side and explained it.

You were hurt by him. The replies became nonexistent, and you gave up trying to make things work.

He was a fool. A stupid fool.

He was almost home when his phone rang from an unknown caller. He ignored it and continued walking from the bus stop to his apartment when the phone rang again from the same number. Sighing, he answered and put it to his ear. "Hello?" The voice that answered made his feet stop.

"Spence?" You called out after a few moments of silence, your voice breathy.

He cleared his throat. "Y/N?"

"Spence... I need help... Please come..." He heard a loud crash, his heart stopping.

"Y/N, where are you? I'm on the way." His feet had already started racing to his parked car.

You gasped out the address, as he started the car racing to you. He made it to the apartment within a few minutes, drawing his gun as he made it up the stairs to the apartment. He heard another crash from inside, and before he could think, his foot was kicking in the door, and he was clearing the room. He saw you on the floor, your back to him as he heard you cry out in pain.

He was by your side in a second as he turned you slowly over, your large belly coming into frame. His eyes went wide as you looked at him, tears in your eyes as you clutched his arm.

"What's going on?" His eyes searching your face for answers.

"Hospital. I need go." You said through gritted teeth as your grip tightened on his arms.

Spencer quickly shook his head, and then cleared his throat. He helped you up onto your feet, grabbing the purse and diaper bag by the door that you directed him to get. He quickly locked up to find you trying to make your way down the stairs, if he wasn't in such a shock, he would laugh at you as you waddled around.

You grabbed the railing and cried out. He was by your side in a second, picking you up bridal style and carrying you out the door.

"Any news?" Hotch asked, as he sat down next to Spencer in the hospital's waiting room.

"No, they're running some tests, so I stepped out." Spencer was crouched down, his elbows on his knees his eyes focused on his clasped hands and the ground.

He had been struggling the past three hours to come up with answers that were already answered. The baby was his and you tried so hard to tell him but when he stopped replying you left to start the next step in your life alone.

Everyone knew but him. They had visited you daily to make sure you were okay, and they became your family, the only thing that was missing was Spencer. You knew you needed him; you were still in love with him, but he hurt you and you needed more than just an apology.

"Has it happened?!" He heard Penelope's voice scream as he looked up to see a giant pile of balloons headed his way.

"Not yet they're running some tests."

"Oh good! I can't miss out on our baby's arrival."

Another hour went by, and Reid was called to go into one of the hospital rooms. He lingered by the door for a second before pushing the door in to find you lying in bed, a beautiful sweaty mess as you reached out to him. His hand quickly found yours and he brought it to his lips. "How are you feeling?

"I'm feeling better after taking the epidural." A minute went by before you continued, your voice a whisper. "I'm still mad at you. You left for so long and no word. But I can't do this without you."

Spencer brought your hand to his cheek. "I know baby. I'm never leaving you again. I've been a wreck without you. You and our baby are my first priority."

You just nodded. "We have a lot to discuss later but I'm getting sleepy."

"Get some rest, my love."

Seven hours and two broken fingers later, Spencer was watching his daughter and son swaddled as they slept, their hands holding each other's.

"They're perfect." JJ cooed.

Rossi wiped a small tear from his eye, as he gave a big pat on Spencer's back. The team had been watching the babies for about an hour as you slept.

"You're going to be a good father." Hotch smiled at Spencer before lightly touching Spencer's son's hand.

"I hope so." He looked at his kids, his daughter yawning slightly, tears filling his eyes as he realized how lucky he was. He never thought he would have kids, he thought he would never see you again, never thought you would allow him back into your life. He knew things were probably going to be rocky, a lot of conversations were going to be needed, but you had said you wanted him in your life along with being with his children.

"Spencer?" Your voice called out and him and the team looked up to see you with a big smile, your phone pointed at them as you took a photo of them. "Picture perfect."

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid scenarios #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #reid #criminal minds fanfiction

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starchaserwrites · 2 months

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@jegulus-microfic / march 15: use / word count: 456

"Regulus? Please don't hang up!,” the person on the other end of the line says as soon as he picks up the call. “I know you told me you never wanted to hear from me again, but I really need to hear your voice," It's three in the morning and the incoming call dragged him out of the peaceful sleep he was having.

A moment passes and the man continues with an abnormal speech rhythm. "Well, if you don't want to say anything just listen. I miss you incredibly much… and I know I need to move on, but how could I look away now that I've seen you?" there is the faint sound of clinking glasses and laughter. "I think I'm starting to forget things about you that I never thought I'd have to forget. I can't remember which of the bookshops near your flat you like best, or what brand of pencils you prefer to use," a hint of anguish and despair creeps in at the end of the sentence.

"Oh, by the way your favorite black hoodie is still here, I didn’t forget about it! It still smells vaguely of you and sometimes I wake up thinking that you'll be on the other side of the bed and that this will all have been a bad dream. Please come get it whenever you want, it would be more than nice to see you.

“Anyway, I'm surprised you're so quiet and haven't insulted me yet, I hope it's a sign that you're not so angry anymore. It hurts me every moment we are apart, and if you forgive me I promise I won't fail you ever again… I'm so sorry and I love you." the sound of sobs fills the line.

"Hey, do yourself a favour and never call this number again or you will regret it." James Potter answers in a steady voice.

The caller audibly gasps. “Wha— who are you? Where is Reggie?”

“I’m his boyfriend, that’s all you need to know,” the arm around his waist pulls him closer. “If you ever call again, I won’t be this calm, be warmed.”

"James, who is it?" asks a sleepy Regulus as he snuggles closer to his chest.

James is more than fed up with the pathetic speech, but he ends the call with a pleased smirk when Regulus' ex starts to protest after hearing his voice.

"Wrong number."

It's the fourth time this month that the ex-boyfriend who cheated on Regulus has called. James and Regulus are not together (at least not yet), but after seeing him torn to pieces after the break-up, James refuses to let the bastard hurt him anymore.

Wrapping Regulus in his arms they go back to sleep.

#jegulus #regulus black #james potter #james x regulus #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus microfic #marauders #len writes #microfics

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keerysfreckles · 19 days

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bad ideas right? — LN4 (au)

pairing: fratboy!lando x fem!reader (college au)

summary: during her senior year of college, y/n and her ex get too close for comfort. it was a bad idea, right?

warnings: swearing, kissing, alcohol consumption, sexual themes mentioned but no smut written, bit of a long fic, based on the song "bad idea right?" by olivia rodrigo

a/n: WHAT ON EARTH IS IN THE MIAMI AIR PLS HE LOOKS TOO GOOD

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

y/n didn't remember why her friends dragged her to the 2-star bar at the edge of campus. her brain was becoming fuzzy as the night went on. she's had maybe five drinks, not that she was complaining. herself and her three friends were dancing ridiculously as a song full of bass blared through the speakers.

two of the girls makeup was starting to smudge, one had lost a single shoe, and y/n's loose black dress was definitely the wrong option for tonight. but none of them cared. they all needed this night out before the stress of finals month started.

y/n's phone rang multiple times in the past seven and a half minutes, but couldn't hear or feel the small vibration. on the ninth call she realised her phone was lighting up in her pocket. her eyes struggled to focus on the name, but soon registered the name and number to her ex, lando norris.

the asshole who broke her heart sophomore year. the dick who left her out in the rain after kicking her out of his dorm. the shithead who then ignored her for the following year because she told him what they had was "messy". y/n l/n believed lando norris was the bane of her existence.

so why was he calling her?

he missed her.

twenty three minutes before the first phone call, lando was pacing back and forth in his untidied dorm room. he debated calling for two main reasons. he truly wanted to apologize for the way he's treated her for the past two years, and he was genuinely curious on how she was doing.

the reason for calling her so late was simply because earlier in the day his thumb hovered over her contact to delete it. however, he internally scolded himself when he simply shoved his phone back into his pocket.

lando knew he fucked up with the girl. he knew he hurt her, but he fears he'll never know how much he twisted her heart and proceeded to throw it into the dirt.

so he called her. but was left on voicemail eight– now nine times. he could recite the damn recording after tonight. "hi, it's y/n. i'm probably out so if you'd leave a message that be amazing. thanks! bye!"

on the other side of campus, the four insanely drunk friends were trying to walk back to their two dorm rooms. their arms were all linked together as they walked slowly and in anything but a straight line.

in the span of five minutes the girls got maybe thirty feet away from the club, still laughing over nothing and everything at the same time. y/n groaned in annoyance once she felt her phone ringing again.

this time however, her brain skipped the part to take the time to look at who the caller was. so she answered.

"hello?" she giggles into the phone. she lets go of her friends arms, staying a few feet behind them.

"y/n," her heart twists and her throat tightens at the voice on the other end.

"lando," her voice is quiet.

"why didn't you answer any of my calls?"

lando doesn't miss the giggle and slight slur to her words as she spoke, "me and my friends were out. why? are you some kind of spy now? you just have to know where i am?"

lando goes to speak again, but hears y/n giggle after a curse word falls her lips. the girl can't help but laugh as she tripped over the small crack in the sidewalk, making her phone fall to the floor.

"y/n are you okay? do you guys need me to come get you?"

after two attempts y/n is able to pick up her phone, while one friend tries getting her off the ground.

lando doesn't get a cohesive response, now that two other girl's voices and druken laughter were flooding the speaker.

y/n finally gets to her feet and puts the phone on speaker, "lan, we're just going back to our rooms."

lando's cheeks flush lightly at the nickname he hasn't heard her use in practically forever. he runs a hand over his face, debating on if his idea is stupid or not.

he sighs, "just stay where you guys are alright? i'll come find you and take you back safely."

before y/n can respond, the line goes dead.

so now the four girls were spread out slightly on the cold sidewalk, at least four blocks from their building. two girls were trying their best to look up at the stars without falling over. while y/n and the other were sitting on the curb, leaning against each other.

lando would admit he's surprised that he didn't get a speeding ticket the whole time he was in the car. he took the route from y/n's dorm room, that he's only been in once this year, and drove in the direction of three different bars.

after no luck, he turned around and called y/n again. at the sound of her drunk giggles, he was starting to get annoyed. yes, this was his own idea, but he couldn't live with himself if he knew they were out and he couldn't do anything about it.

after several minutes, he finally got some sort of address out of the girl.

y/n could already feel her head pounding as her friend beside her continued to ramble on about the color green. y/n knew neither of them would remember this conversation in the morning.

her friend cut herself off, "ow! who turned the sun on?"

the "sun" was actually the headlights of lando's dark blue car. y/n leaned over to see him pulling over to their side of the road.

lando muttered out a curse word or two at the state of y/n and her friends. y/n watched as lando struggled to get the three of her friends crammed into the backseat of his car. he managed to get them inside without hitting their heads, so he considered it a job well done.

"c'mon," he held both hands out to help y/n off the curb. she subconsciously leaned into him while he helped her into the front seat. once he triple checked they were all buckled, he gave each of them a water bottle before driving in the direction of their dorm rooms.

the drive was quiet, despite the few druken burps let out between all the girls.

lando had a solid game plan once he parked into the front row outside of the girls' senior building. he would get one out at a time and safely into their room.

after getting one girl out of the backseat, y/n taps on her closed window, catching lando's attention.

"you're gonna need their passcode to unlock the door," her voice was scratcy, but lando could tell the water helped her sober up slightly.

lando thanked y/n after she told him both room codes, which made getting the girls inside much easier. he locked the car doors after each girl, and was quick as he could be to get them to their beds.

two girls were able to walk slightly, while carrying the third was just easier. now y/n was leaning against lando as they went up the single flight of stairs. he kept his grip on her while typing in the code, but y/n didn't let go when the door unlocked.

she silently turned and hugged him. the action caught him off guard for a second, before he held her head to his chest.

"are you gonna be okay?"

"i've missed you lan," y/n completely ignores his question, and he knows she's sincere when her grip slightly tightens on the back of his shirt.

y/n looks up at lando, losing her train of thought now that she gets a good look at him for the first time that night. her cheeks flush at how he's looking down at her, with his stupid backwards hat, and his stupid curls.

lando stares back at her, watching her widened pupils flick between his own eyes.

"i've missed you too," he fianlly admits out loud.

before y/n leaves to go in her room, she leans up to place a kiss on his cheek. the action instantly makes lando's brain fuzzy, as well as the girl's. lando smiles slightly before leaning forward to kiss y/n's forehead.

"call me if you need anything, 'kay?"

y/n nods, watching him now walk down the hallway. she lets out a loud groan once her head hits her pillow. her brain's telling her one thing, but her heart is telling her another.

she groans once more, knowing if she debated this any longer she'd only give herself an even bigger headache. she isn't sure if lando left the parking lot yet, so she throws on a pair of shoes without tying them, and runs down the hallway and back down the stairs.

she's surprised she didn't trip, but the thought leaves her head once she calls lando's name.

his movements stop, his hand halting on the handle of the driver's side door.

his eyebrows instantly furrow, "are you okay?" he doesn't get an answer, y/n only walks over to him with a certain look of determination filling her features.

"is something wrong?" he asks again, now that she's in front of him.

y/n doesn't answer again. two seconds pass until y/n pulls lando's face down to hers. the grip on his neck is soft and firm at the same time while her lips press to his.

lando kisses back almost immediately, one of his hands going to her waist while the other holds the back of her head.

"wait, shit you're not still super drunk are you?" lando pulls back, his lips barely hovering over hers, but concern filled his words.

"yes," y/n nods, "lan i've never wanted anything more."

she sucks in a breath, slightly regretting her choice of words. however her shoulders relax once a smirk makes its way across lando's face, before he's pulling her back towards him.

lando walks backwards, bringing y/n with him, before opening the door to the backseat.

y/n lets out a small laugh, "really?"

lando shrugs, "we can't really fuck in your room with your sleeping roommate." he pulls y/n with him, with her closing the door behind her immediately. her legs rest on either side of his, as his hands move to her thighs, starting to bunch up the material of her dress.

lando pulls away from the kiss once more, "you're sure you really want this?" he can barely concentrate on her answer while she threads the hair at the back of his neck between his fingers.

"i need you lan, please," she's desperate and she knows it, but she couldn't care less.

—

with lando's car now midly humid and smelling like sweat, he runs his fingers up and down y/n's back under her (his) shirt. he heard her breathing even out maybe three minutes ago, as well as her hand going limp by his waist. he knew she'd be out for the rest of the night.

9 am rolls around rather quickly, and y/n wakes up to a repetitive knocking. her eyebrows furrow before she wipes the sleep from her eyes. turning, she's met with a very amused roommate outside of lando's car.

"shit," y/n mumbles. she sits up while shaking a sleeping lando.

"lan, c'mon wake up, steph is outside."

lando wakes surprisingly easily, waving awkwardly at y/n's roommate as she gets out of the car.

"sleep well?" steph jokes, walking quickly after y/n who's almost running up to their dorm.

"want to explain why you were with a shirtless lando, sleeping in his car on this fine saturday morning?"

"no, no i don't," y/n replies while typing in the code to their shared room.

"you seriously slept with him? after what he did to you?" steph asks.

"we were just," y/n pauses, "sleeping."

steph lets out a loud laugh, "sure, and i was just on the phone with the president."

steph closes the door behind her, hearing y/n groan.

"what are you doing here?" she asks the others in the room, rachel and brianna, her other close friends.

"we got a call from steph saying to come here right away," rachel answers, smirking at y/n.

"now we know why this urgent meeting was called," brianna chuckles from y/n's bed.

steph pulls out one of the desk chairs before sitting, "y/n totally had sex with lando last night," she speaks up.

"steph!"

"shit, really?"

"y/n i thought you promised yourself not to be with him again."

y/n rolls her eyes, "i'm not with him or anything. i only see him as a friend."

steph can't help but laugh, as brianna chuckles, "lying to yourself won't help the situation hun."

a small vibration hums, and rachel picks up y/n's phone before squealing. "if he thinks you're just friends, then why did he just text you asking to come to his party tonight?"

"what?" brianna and steph practically jump to look over rachel's shoulders. y/n just grabs her phone as she reads the text herself.

"well, what if you guys come with me?"

brianna shakes her head, "nope, he asked you specifically."

"if he wanted all of us there he would've been more clear," steph adds.

y/n puts her head in her hands, her mind already swarming with what could happen if she goes to lando's stupid party.

her phone hums in her hand again, and she reads the text out loud knowing her friends would ask about it.

"it'd be a small hangout with maybe twenty of us, just want you to be there," y/n can't help but smile at the words on the screen.

her three friends gush at lando's text.

"we can help you with your outfit!" rachel squeals again.

"are you going to go for hot or slutty? or both?"

"guys!" y/n laughs, "the party isn't till tonight."

steph stands, "she's right. we'll get out of your hair so you can sleep, and get rid of this sex-driven hangover you have," y/n sends her a glare.

"just text us when you need us!" brianna calls before the three of them leave y/n alone in the room.

—

"when did you get this little number?" steph pulls out a small red dress from the back of y/n's closet.

steph, brianna and rachel came back to the room an hour ago. rachel helped with y/n's makeup and hair, while brianna and steph were trying to find the perfect outfit.

y/n already vetoed three of steph's picks, stating they were too much for a simple dorm party.

she continues shaking her head at both girl's picks, just making them groan.

"aha!" brianna now pulls out a short dark green velvet dress, with spaghetti straps that cross and twist in the back.

when y/n doesn't shake her head instantly, steph throws both her hands up, "she loves it!"

"no, no i never said that."

steph shrugs, "you basically said it without words."

she takes the dress from brianna, "it's not that bad. only problem is i can't wear a bra with it."

brianna laughs while steph explains, "if you're gonna get laid again, bra's only waste time."

"i'm not having sex with lando tonight!" y/n defends.

"who said anything about lando?" rachel jokes, making y/n's cheeks flush.

y/n triple checks her hair and makeup after steph threw a pair of converse at her, explaining how strappy heels are just another obstacle for horny college guys.

considering lando's dorm room was only a block away, y/n insisted she was fine with walking by herself. she sent the small four person group chat when she started walking up the two flights of stairs to lando's floor.

y/n didn't know why she was nervous. she saw lando less than twenty-four hours ago, and it's not like this is the first time being inside his room.

before anymore consuming thoughts fill her brain, she knocks quickly at the door.

damn, y/n thinks to herself, seeing lando leaning against the doorframe. she hates to admit it, but she doesn't think she's seen anyone look as good as lando does at this very moment.

white shoes cover his feet, with baggy jeans and a white t-shirt, with that stupid backwards hat covering his curls again.

"you just gonna stand and stare all night?" lando smirks, and y/n simply ducks under his arm to go inside. "sure, come on in, make yourself at home," he mutters while closing the door.

the first hour since y/n's gotten there goes by smoothly. like lando said, there was probably sixteen people crammed into his dorm room, with loud music playing and drinks were being poured left and right.

lando, subconsciously or not, stood near y/n almost the entire night. when he gave her a shot he stood next to her after she downed the alcohol. when there was a group talking, lando was sure to be around if y/n was there. at one point lando's hand was on the small of y/n's back, not that she was complaining.

as people started dispersing from lando's dorm room, y/n helped him tidy up. she threw any beer bottles or cans into the garbage bag lando held open for her. he asked if she needed a ride home, but assured she'd be fine considering she only had two shots the whole night.

"thanks for the invite lan," y/n smiles up at him as he leans against the door frame again, watching as she started to walk down the hallway.

"i'm glad you came," he states, making the girl turn to face him. "i'm sorry i've ignored you for the past two years, and treated you like shit."

lando looks down at his shoes, only to find the tops of y/n's shoes now in front of his. he lifts his head, seeing y/n was in front of him now, and not down the hallway.

"why did you treat me like that?" y/n's voice wasn't angry or filled with venom, she just sounded confused.

"i told myself i wasn't ready for the commitment of a relationship," lando's voice is quiet, as he regrets his past actions.

"it's stupid, believe me i–"

"would you tell yourself that now?" she cuts him off.

"what?" it completely catches the brit off gaurd.

"would you say you're not ready for commitment now?"

lando chuckles dryly, "i don't– i don't know y/n. where is this coming from?"

before y/n can think straight, her words leave her lips faster than her brain allows them to stop.

"i'm not sure if you've noticed, but i miss you lan. i really do. i think about you way more than i should, probably five times a day at least. almost everything i do reminds me of you and i hate it. i hate how i can't just call you to ask you to come over and watch a movie. i hate how much of an idiot i was when i actually walked away from your room," y/n takes a breath before continuing, not noticing lando's sincere look. "i should've turned around and tried harder to get you back, and i've kicked myself in the ass everyday because i didn't."

lando doesn't say anything at first, still taking all of her words in carefully. y/n swallowed before turning back around to walk away from the boy who broke her heart, she wasn't going to let him break it again.

her movements stopped once she felt a hand on her wrist.

lando simply pulls her back in front of him, catching her other arm with his other hand as she slightly tripped over her own feet. he moves his hand from her wrist to the side of her face.

lando's adams apple bobs before bringing y/n's lips to his. he stands up straighter once her hands reach his waist. y/n goes to pull away, but lando has other plans when he pushes the back of her nack, crashing his lips to hers.

the pair stumble backwards back into his dorm, moving around the small kitchen to go to his room. on the way, both of their shoes are discarded somewhere by the front door, as well as lando's hat and y/n's phone and wallet.

lando's shirt and belt are hastily taken off by y/n before he lays down on his bed, quick to pull the girl on top of him. he sits up slightly as the two begin to kiss again, a bit slower but more than passionate this time.

lando pulls back for a moment, taking in the sight of the girl in his lap. her hair already tangled in places from his fingers running through the strands. her widened pupils from anything but alcohol this time.

he leans forward again, capturing her lips in between his, as his left hand moves to her shoulder. the slow and intimate moment is new for the both of them, as he slowly pushes the strap of y/n's dress off her shoulder.

"i'll take care of you," lando admits, "i won't try and push you away this time."

"i won't let you," y/n whispers with a shake of her head, before pulling his chin to kiss him again.

347 notes · View notes

hotchnisslvr · 2 months

Text

drunk dial

pairing: platonic aaron hotchner/reader

rating: t

word count: 8.1k

tags: implied sexual assault, referenced sexual assault

summary: when you drunk dial your boss in need of rescuing from a night club, aaron hotchner doesn’t hesitate to respond. the only problem? you thought you’d called emily. hotch insists on you letting him take care of you for the night as you’re in no state to be on your own. as the night progresses, you find that you’re finally able to disclose a trauma you’d kept buried for years.

“Hotchner,” he answers groggily.

A harsh sob echoes through the receiver and he sits up, bringing the phone down to view the caller ID. The dark slash of his brow furrows as he views your name and photo.

There’s concern in his voice as he says your name, but you don’t seem to hear it.

You heave another sob through the phone. “My friend left with some guy. And now this one, he won’t—” Your voice suddenly sounds far away the music pounding in the background overtakes your words. He’s missing information as your voice becomes clear once more. “He wants more than I’m willing to give Emily and I just want to go home.” Your words are slurred. “I just,” another choked sob, “I need he—” The line disconnects.

“Hello?” Hotch questions and tries your name again. He redials your number and curses as it goes to voicemail. Throwing back the sheets, he climbs out of bed and dials Prentiss’ number as he pulls a hoodie over his t-shirt.

She laughs as she answers, “Hotch, it’s past midnight. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

He cuts her off and curtly explains the call he’d just received. “Where is she?”

“Oh, um, The 930 Club. She’s—”

“Thanks, Prentiss.” He hangs up and shoves his phone in his pocket. He grabs his raincoat and keys and swiftly exits his apartment.

The club isn’t far from his complex, but with Saturday night traffic in the heart of DC combined with the summer storm raging on, it seems to take ages. He lays on the horn as someone cuts him off and curses as he slams on his brakes. Briefly, he considers throwing the red and blue lights on, but thinks better of it. He’s not far now and after making it through the next red light, the club comes into view. Disregarding the no parking signs out front, Hotch pulls up alongside the curb and throws the SUV into park.

Despite the rain, a line stretches out the door. Couples and groups of friends clad in leather, satin, high heels, and sleek accessories huddle under wide umbrellas to protect themselves from the storm. Hotch approaches the door and a bouncer stretches his arm across the way.

“There’s a line, old man.” The bouncer inclines his head toward the line of anxiously waiting club goers. “Get to the back before I put you there myself.”

Hotch is unfazed by the bouncer and the sense of power his job provides him. Standing toe to toe with the man, he stares him down, his eyes hard. He reaches into his pants pocket and retrieves his badge. With two fingers, he flips it open and pushes into the bouncer’s face. “Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner,” he states flatly. “I’ve got an agent in trouble in there, so get the hell out of my way before I have you in handcuffs.” He’s bluffing, obviously, the bouncer has done nothing wrong. He doesn’t know that though, given how wide his eyes open in fear. He says nothing and steps aside, granting him entry.

“Thank you.” For good measure, Hotch drives his shoulder into the bouncer as he shoves his way into the noisy nightclub. His eyes dart around, scanning the scene. There are two long bars on opposite walls, a DJ against the short wall where dozens of people bump and grind against one another on the dance floor, and two levels of tall tables and booths for people to crowd around or sneak into to get away from the music.

On the phone, you’d sounded distressed. Your words were slurred and he could only hope and pray that you’d not been drugged by whatever “he” was with you at the time of the call. God, he could only hope that you were even still here. If he knew creeps as well as his job had accustomed him to, if a man was trying to procure a woman under the influence, he’d either leave immediately and attack her in a secondary location or he’d take her somewhere more private within the environment.

Pushing through the crowd, he shouldered past couples who shot dagger sharp glances at him and took the stairs two at a time up to the second floor. The music still pounded over the speakers up here, but this was clearly where people went to escape the bustle of the crowded dance floor and get away to drink or order food or conversate more

privately. He calls your name and begins scanning tables. Patrons dining or trying to steal a romantic moment glare at him. Some curse and tell him to fuck off. He pays them no mind. As he winds around tables, he begins losing hope despite there being much more of the club to explore. He has half a mind to shut the whole place down and call in the team, but that would be a gross overreaction. There is no evidence that you’re actually in danger or missing aside from a drunk misdial. Still though, his heart pounds erratically as he calls your name over the music.

He reaches the end of the second floor and at first doesn’t see that there are people in the booth they’re that far tucked into it. The man’s hulking frame blocks the girl from view and he knows it’s you.

“Hey!” he barks over the baseline.

“We don’t need anything,” the man says without looking back.

Fury floods his veins. Without a second thought, Hotch reaches for the man and grabs him by the back of the neck. He reels back, pulling the man to his feet. Catching his balance, the man pulls his fist back. As he aims to deliver a punch, Hotch ducks and sends his fist into the man’s gut. As the air vacates his lungs and he doubles over, Hotch fists his hands into his shirt and slams him back into the table. With the man immobilized, he looks up at you. A strap on your dress falls over one shoulder and your hair hangs limply, having fallen free of whatever style it had been in. You look at him from half hooded eyes, blinking slowly. The scene is spinning and your temples are throbbing.

“Are you okay?” Hotch asks. His knuckles blaze white as the man struggles beneath his grip.

“Stop moving!” he barks.

“Can somebody help me?” the man calls.

Someone is saying your name, asking if you’re ok. The music is loud and your ears feel like they’re plugged with cotton. Things seem to move quickly and slowly all at once. Where are you? You’ve not left the club yet, but where did Mariah go? There’s your name again. God, you’re really out of it. Mariah left, you remember. She left with Andrew’s friend and Andrew, God, he wouldn’t leave you alone. When was Emily going to get here? There’s your name again. You blink hard and try to get your bearings. Though things are hazy and tilted through your alcohol laden senses, a picture starts to form in front of you. Aaron Hotchner, your boss, has Andrew pinned against the table in front of you.

“Sir?” you question, though the word feels far away and unfamiliar on your tongue.

Hotch raises his eyes from Andrew, concern reflecting back at you in them. Your eyes widen as you take in Andrew’s form beneath him. You glance down at yourself and see your dress straps pulled down, exposing the lace of your bra. What the fuck had he been trying to do before Hotch got here?

Two bouncers approach as a crowd begins to gather, people are always hungry for drama after all.

“Is there a problem here?” the first bouncer asks. He’s tall, built, and wears sunglasses despite it being dark inside. His ginger beard is bushy and his brow is pierced. He looks pissed as all hell that he has to be up here breaking up a fight. Hotch recognizes the other bouncer from the door. When they make eye contact, his eyes widen.

“Yo, Liam, that’s that FBI agent I was telling you about.”

Liam arches a brow, but his expression softens. “What’s going on, officer? Or should I call you Agent?”

Hotch ignores him and pulls Andrew to his feet, pushing him toward the bouncers. “Get this guy out of here,” he orders. He looks toward you again, his eyes searching for signs of further harm. He turns his attention back to Andrew.

“Did you slip her something?”

Andrew’s face screws. “What? No!”

Hotch steps forward, his face inches from his, and repeats the question louder, “Did you give her something?”

Andrew flinches. “No! I don’t do that shit, man. She took a bunch of shots with her friend. Guys were buying them drinks all night. I just—”

“You just what?” Hotch questions, his voice low and dangerous. “Wait for a woman that can hardly stand, take her upstairs, hide away, and see just how far you can take it?”

“Hey, she was into it!”

Hotch grabs him by the jaw. “Look at her!” he says. “She can barely keep her eyes open! That’s not consent, idiot!”

Andrew swallows and he looks like he might wet himself.

“Hotch,” you say and try your best to sit up, the world spinning as you do so.

Hotch releases him, but first leans in close to his ear. “If you ever, and I mean ever try this again, with anyone. I will have you arrested and will personally make sure you never see the light of day ever again. I was a federal prosecutor, so I know how to make charges stick. Do I make myself clear?”

Andrew nods vigorously and a tear slips from his eyes. “Not so confident now, huh?” Hotch whispers, disdain dripping from his lips. “Get him out of here.”

He watches as the bouncers lead Andrew down the steps. Hotch immediately turns his attention on you. He slides into the booth beside you. “Did he hurt you?” he asks.

Your brow furrows as you try to make sense of what’s happening. The music is so loud. Hotch looks around and then back at you. “Let’s get you out of here, come on.” He stretches his hand out to you and you take it, letting him pull you out of the booth. When you find your feet, you stumble and he catches you, his arm bracing around your lower back.

“It’s raining,” Hotch says as he shrugs out of his jacket. “Take this.” He drapes it over your shoulders, his little finger curling under the strap of your dress and pulling it back into place as he does so. The smell of cedar and teakwood reaches your nose, a severe contrast to the club’s overarching scent of vodka, sweat, and the amalgamation of various perfumes and colognes sprayed in earnest.

The second you exit the club your head feels a fraction clearer. The air is muggy, the humidity amping up with the cold rain coming down after a week of intensely high temperatures.

Aaron reaches into his pocket and fishes out his car keys. He clicks the unlock button and the car beeps in response. He opens the door and helps you inside, his eyes lingering on you for a moment as you clumsily buckle your seatbelt to make sure you can get it on alright. Once secure, he gently shuts the door and jogs around to the driver’s side.

He slides into the driver’s seat and twists the key in the ignition. He places his hands on the wheel, but before shifting the car into gear, he looks at you, intensely. When he says your name, it’s gentle. It’s not the tone he uses in the office when he’s calling the team for a briefing or to review something you’d written in a report. There’s a warmth in his voice, and there’s real concern there too. “You don’t have to tell me,” he starts. “Just know that you can.”

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut as the world tilts on its axis. Your stomach roils and for a moment you’re afraid you might be sick. You take a deep breath and manage to hold it down. Hotch tilts his head, regarding you. “Is there anyone at home that can take care of you?”

“No,” you answer and this time you don’t shake your head to avoid aggravating the nausea. “My roommate is out of town visiting her family,” you speak slowly but your words still come out slurred.

Hotch nods and shifts the car into gear. “You can stay with me then, tonight.”

“No, sir I can’t let you do that. You’ve got Jack and—”

A smile cracks his stern visage as he pulls out into traffic. If you had your wits about you, you would’ve taken a mental snapshot as you don’t think you’ve ever seen such a genuine expression of mirth cross his face. “Jack is at his aunt’s. I wouldn’t have exactly been able to come out like this if he wasn’t. Beth has an event for work this weekend, which is why I’ve stayed back in DC. It’s no trouble at all.”

You sink back into the seat, a part of you unable to believe that this is happening while the other part of you is still trying to fully process what all had transpired in the last fifteen minutes.

“Hotch, how did you know—”

His eyes are on the road as he speaks. “You thought you’d called Emily. You called me.”

“Oh my God,” you groan, drawing out the last letter. A scarlett heat creeps into your cheeks and you cover your face with your hands. “So you heard—Jesus Christ. Oh my God.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hotch says, his words genuine. “I’m glad I can help.”

The rest of the ride passes in silence. It’s not long by any stretch of the imagination, but the constant stop and go traffic of late night DC has your stomach doing somersaults. You squeeze your eyes shut and rest your head against the cool glass of the window hoping it’ll quell the churning in your belly.

A quiet groan escapes your lips as Hotch pulls into his designated parking spot at The Langham. It stopped raining. As soon as he shifts the car into park, your stomach feels as though it’s just been bounced around like. ping pong ball. “Oh god,” you moan and fumble with the door handle. Somehow you manage to undo the lock and fling open the door. As soon as your feet hit the pavement, you rush over to the nearest bush, the vomit you’d staved off finally forcing its way up and out of your body. It’s vile, the way the alcohol and stomach acid burns your throat.

Footsteps rapidly approach and there’s a hand at your neck, gathering your hair. “Alright, ok,” Hotch says soothingly, his other hand rubbing up and down your back. “Get it all out, oh yeah, yep. There you go.”

When your body stops purging itself, you gulp down a fresh breath of air before spitting the acrid taste of bile from your lips. You stay like that, hands on your knees, and take a few deep breaths. “Do you have your gun?”

Hotch releases your hair as you stand, but keeps a steadying hand on your arm. His expression is puzzled, his brow arched. “No, why?”

You roll your eyes and turn toward the sidewalk leading toward the front entrance to his building. “To kill me now so I don’t have to live with the embarrassment of knowing my boss just saw that happen.”

Something between a laugh and scoff escapes Hotch’s lips as he catches up to you in two long strides. Him and his long ass legs, you drunkenly muse.

The lights hurt your eyes and your temples continue to throb as you let Hotch navigate your way through his complex. The walk feels excessively long and you wonder if all apartment complexes are this maze-like. As he fishes his keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door to his apartment you realize you’re actually at Aaron Hotchner’s apartment. You’ve never been to his apartment. You’ve been to Emily’s, Penelope’s, and Spencer’s apartments; Rossi and JJ’s houses, but Hotch? Definitely not. Suddenly you feel like you are about to encroach upon the shadowy place Mufasa warns Simba about in The Lion King.

You blink and that clears the weird image forming of Hotch as a cartoonish fatherly lion from your mind. You stumble through the threshold as he pushes the door open and curse as he catches you again. “These fucking heels,” you grumble. As you reach down to work out the straps your stomach flips and you groan.

Hotch’s eyes flare slightly. “Why don’t you stay up there?” he cautions. “Let me help you.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” you respond, voice tight as your stomach threatens revolution once more.

He bends down on one knee and begins to undo the straps from around your ankles. He holds the back of your calf as he pulls the heel off and places it against the wall. You have to catch yourself on his shoulder to keep from falling but as soon as your foot falls flat on the floor, a languid moan leaves your lips.

“Good God, that feels so much better.”

He helps you slide out of the other high heeled shoe and stands. Without the heels on, he has a decent amount of height on you. You have to look up to meet his eyes, those eyes still shining with concern.

“Let me take the coat,” he says, lifting his hands toward you. You turn and shrug out of it, your limbs feeling awkward and heavy as you do so. He hangs it on a hook on the back of the door and gestures down the length of the hallway.

“It’s just the one bedroom,” he explains as he leads the way toward the main room. “You can sleep in my room. I’ll take the couch.”

“No!” you blurt. “No, no, no you don’t have to do any of that oh my God.”

Hotch chuckles in response. “I think you’ll thank me in the morning if you do.” Wordlessly, you follow as he leads the way to the aforementioned bedroom. He flicks the light switch on and the lamp on his bedside table illuminates the room. It’s simply decorated with store bought abstract paintings and dark blue linens on the queen sized bed. A framed photo of Jack sits on the nightstand, angled toward the bed. The idea of Hotch lying there looking at the image of his son tugs your heartstrings. You move past Hotch and plop down on the bedspread before reaching for the photo. You smile as you look at Jack’s crooked smile.

“He’s so precious,” you muse and poke Jack’s nose through the flat plane of glass. You look up at Hotch from where he stands in the doorway. “He’s lucky to have a dad like you, sir.”

Hotch smiles softly and crosses the distance to sit beside you, the mattress sinking beneath your combined weight. “Thank you,” he says. “I’ll be honest, it's hard to feel like a good dad some days with our job.”

You bump him with your shoulder, or at least that’s your intention.You more or less use your entire arm to nudge him just barely. “You give him all the time you’re able, we all see that. If we do, Jack definitely does.”

You pass him the picture frame and smile. Hotch smiles in turn, his lips together. “Thank you,” he says as he places it back on the nightstand. “I hope he grows into a good man.”

“With you as his father, there’s no doubt. There ought to be more dads like you out there to teach their sons how to be men.” Your smile falters and your voice grows small. “Maybe then they wouldn’t try to see just how far they can push the envelope.”

Tears spring to your eyes and you use the back of your hand to clumsily wipe them away. Turn off the waterworks, you chide yourself. Your temples already throb from how much the alcohol, first round of tears, and vomiting dehydrated you, no need to compound it now with more tears.

Hotch says your name quietly. “You can talk to me, you know.” He pats your hand that rests atop the bedsheets. “I’m not your boss right now, I’m your friend.”

Your lip quivers as you stare blankly at the wall ahead. “If I talk about it, that means I let it happen. I’m a fucking FBI agent, Hotch. I should know better than to drink that much. I should—”

Hotch’s brow pinches. “Woah, woah, woah,” he starts, “where is this coming from? You know better than anyone that how much you drink doesn’t matter, that doesn’t entitle anyone else to you or your body. And fuck if you’re an agent, you’re allowed to go and enjoy drinks and a night out without worrying if some asshole is going to try and take advantage of you. I think I scared him within an inch of his life, too. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

But it’s not about Andrew. It’s not about tonight anymore. Tears slip over your lash line.They’re hot and fat and you hate how they have little minds of their own, dropping freely down your cheeks. You know what he says is true. Hell, you preach it to everyone, especially when you teach self defense at the local university. What you wear is never an excuse for someone to touch you. How you dance isn’t an excuse for someone to grope you. How much you drink isn’t an excuse for someone to lay claim to your flesh. The only thing that means yes is explicit, enthusiastic consent. You know this. You teach this.

But right now, it’s so hard to believe because that’s what you had to fight so hard to teach yourself when you first had to learn what happened wasn’t your fault.

You drop your head into your hands and stifle a sob. “God, it was nearly ten fucking years ago.”

“What was ten years ago?” Hotch asks, his voice soft and kind.

Oh God. You’d said that out loud.

You scrub your hands over your face and curse as you smear mascara into your eye. “Fuck!” you exclaim as your hand flies to your eye instinctively.

“I’ve got something I think can help,” Hotch says as he rises from the bed and darts out of the room. From your point of view, you can’t see anything but you hear bottles rummaging around from where you imagine is the bathroom out in the hall. When he returns he carries a small green package in his hand. He crouches in front of you and peels back the plastic film on the container. With two fingers he extracts a wipe and folds it in half. As he reaches for your face he hesitates, wipe paused in mid air above your cheek. “Is this alright?” he asks.

Sniffling, you nod. With one hand, Hotch gingerly wraps his fingers around your wrist. As he pulls it away, he uses his other hand to place the cool moist towelette against your eye. He holds it there for a moment before he begins to wipe and blot at the black swirls of mascara that had dried in tear stained patterns around your eyes and cheeks and whatever vestiges of eyeshadow remained. Once that wipe is fully soiled, he retrieves a fresh one; repeating the gesture on the other eye before moving on and clearing away what remained of your face and lip makeup. You don’t speak while he does this, and you don’t have to. You needed it. You needed that. You needed someone. You needed him. A friend. Someone that would ask no questions and just show up for you when you needed them most. No questions asked. And when he did ask questions, when Hotch did, there was no expectation to answer. But right now, in this strange moment, in Aaron Hotchner’s apartment, in his bed no less, you felt like you could finally tell someone.

“I was a teenager,” you say as he takes one final swipe at your cheek.

His hand freezes along your jawline and his eyes lock on yours. “You don’t have to do this,” he says gently, lowering his hand.

“If I don’t say it now on what courage the alcohol left in my system is giving me, I’m afraid I never will.”

Hotch sits back on his heels. “Alright.”

“I was dating an older guy at the time. I was a freshman in college. He was a senior; vice president of his fraternity. He came from a wealthy family, too. I was naive and so excited to be dating someone like that, someone with status. I grew up comfortably, but not that well off. He took me to nice dinners and bought me expensive gifts. We had a physical relationship, and it started out fine enough.” You pause and take a deep breath. “But we started fighting. He wouldn’t,” you pause. “I couldn’t get him to talk to me or communicate in any way that led to resolution when we did. He’d just keep apologizing and told me that he’d do better next time. He’d start kissing me to interrupt and then his hands would be in my pants and I just,” you stop and shake your head. “I thought if I could just deal with what he did physically, that things would be fine again if I just pretended I liked what was happening and got it over with. I thought that we’d go back to the fun, happy go lucky couple everyone knew us as. Until it happened again, and again, and again. When he graduated I finally felt safe enough to break things off once there was distance between us. I knew something had felt off about those experiences. It never occurred to me that that was assault.”

“You suffered through numerous unwanted physical advances because he emotionally manipulated you through stonewalling.” Hotch says quietly. It’s not an explanation, but validation of your experience.

A choked laugh escapes your lips. “I know that now. At the time, I thought assault was like what you see on TV. That it’s some stranger in an alley that blitz attacks you. I never thought it could be someone you knew, let alone someone you were in what you believed was a loving and committed relationship.” You shake your head again, a wry smile playing on your lips. “Imagine my surprise when I learned that the perpetrators were almost alway statistically someone the victim knows.”

A warm hand slips into yours. You look up and Hotch is looking at you intently. “What happened wasn’t your fault.” He says, squeezing your hand.

You lick your chapped lips and drop your eyes, nodding. “It took a long time for me to learn that.”

“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been,” Hotch says. “To have gone through that alone,” he shakes his head. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” you reply, because what else was there to say? “I wasn’t completely alone. I did go to counseling throughout the remainder of my time in school, they had services for the students. There was a support group, too; one for people who’d experienced sexual violence. It was there I really learned that things weren’t my fault. Other people had experienced similar things. Without that, I don’t think I’d have made it through honestly. I definitely wouldn’t be here.”

His hand squeezes around yours once more. “I’m glad that you are.” He smiles and a dimple forms in his cheek. “I know I'm a better man for having known you. The team, hell, the impact you have on the lives of those going through the worst possible moments of their lives in these cases we work…you have touched so many lives for the better. Please never, ever forget that.”

You smile crookedly and it feels somewhat genuine. “What do you think gets me through the day?”

The throbbing in your temples intensifies suddenly and you screw your eyes shut, your hands moving instinctively to rub them. “God, I’m going to be so hungover in the morning.”

Hotch claps his hands together. “Let’s see if we can’t get ahead of that.”

He leaves the room and when he returns he has a glass of water. “Here,” he says and passes you the cup.

You graciously accept it and take a long drink, the cool water soothing your throat, raw from crying and vomiting. “Thank you,” you murmur.

“It would probably help if you got some sleep. Do you feel up to taking a shower?”

You scoff, “Ok, Hotch. I threw up and it helped a little bit, but I’m not that sober.”

He chuckles and puts his hands up in surrender. “Fair enough. Let me at least get you some clothes. I know sleeping in a cocktail dress won’t be too comfortable.”

“Do you know?” you tease.

He presses his lips together. “Let me go see what I can find.”

You exhale a short laugh as he disappears from view and you fall back onto the mattress, a dull thud echoing as your body hits the sheets. You heave out a big sigh and stare at the ceiling. “This is a weird fucking night.”

You close your eyes and behind closed lids, it feels like you’re spinning. Yep, definitely not sober. You open your eyes and lazily reach up to start pulling bobby pins from your hair.

“Alright, I’ve got a pair of sweats and an old academy hoodie that should fit you.”

At the sound of Hotch’s voice, you let your head loll to the side. “You look absurdly tall from this angle,” you muse.

Hotch chuckles, “Spoken like someone desperately in need of sleep.” He steps into the room and drops the clothes onto the bed.

“Hotch?” you question, ignoring his last comment.

You roll onto your side and push yourself back into a sitting position. He arches an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Why is it you’ve got makeup wipes in your apartment?” You inhale sharply. “Ooo, are you secretly a drag performer?”

Hotch laughs. “I am not a drag performer, though I do think Anderson does drag brunch on Saturday mornings if I remember right.”

You blink twice. “I’m sorry, and you’re only telling me this now?”

Hotch shrugs. “I’m surprised you don’t know about it. Garcia does.”

Your jaw drops. “Garcia knows?? Oh, when I get my hands on her—”

“To answer your question though,” Hotch butts in, an amused glint shining in his eyes. “They’re Beth’s.”

A smile pulls at your lips. “Beth keeps things at your apartment? What are we talking, like, a couple of things on the counter? A drawer?”

Hotch’s eyes drop to the floor as a scarlet blush creeps up his neck and spreads across his cheeks.

“Oh my God, this is serious isn’t it?” You feel the apples of your cheeks as your smile widens. “Spill, Hotch! Should I be looking at outfits for the wedding?”

To that, Hotch raises his hands as a smile splits his lips. “Calm down,” he laughs. “We’re not quite at wedding bells, but we do see each other almost every weekend. With the commute on the train, it is easy to have a drawer or two at one another’s apartments.”

You feel like kicking your feet, you’re so happy. If anyone deserved this kind of joy and love in their life, it was Hotchner. God knows he deserved it after all the hell he’d been through, all the trauma he survived.

“I’m really happy for you,” you say. “Beth is a remarkable woman”.

Hotch nods, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “She is.”

You reach over and pull the clothes onto your lap. “Thanks, again, Hotch.” You toy with the sleeve of the hoodie in hand. “As horrified as I was when I realized I’d called you instead of Emily, I’m glad you came. I’m glad it was you.”

“We’re a team. We’re family,” Hotch replies. He leans against the doorframe. “Hell, I’m old enough to be your father. Maybe that’s why I’ve always felt a bit more protective of you, anyway. So, when I heard your voice on the line, there was no hesitation. I’d like to think if I had a daughter and she were in trouble, that someone in her life would do the same.”

You spring off of the bed, a little uncoordinated due to alcohol still gently buzzing in your veins at this point, and throw your arms around him. You bury your face in his neck and though, muffled, you say, “Thank you, Aaron. Thank you so much, for everything.” You don’t need to say what for, he knows. Your gratitude extends far beyond just rescuing you from the night club.

His arms snake around you, his palms pressed flat against the middle of your back as he squeezes you tightly.

“You’re so welcome,” he says into your hair. “I’m so proud of you, you know. Don’t ever forget that.” He pulls away just so and presses a fatherly kiss to your hairline, “I’ll be on the couch if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to wake me up.”

You nod and brush away a stubborn tear. God, you’d think you’d have nothing left in the tank at this point. You stifle a yawn as you close the door. The clothes Hotch left you fit well enough; the warmth and coziness of the fleece lined fabrics acting as security blanket as you tuck yourself in between the sheets. You barely remember to flick off the lamp on the bedside table before crashing onto the pillows where the heaviness of sleep finally drags you under to the sweet realm of nothingness.

Three things are incredibly clear the second you wake up: one, it’s too bright and you have to squint against the white rays of sunlight cutting through the slats in the blinds; two, your mouth feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton balls, you swallow but there’s not even an inkling of saliva to wet your dry throat; and three, it feels like someone has been slamming on a timpani inside of your skull.

You exude a long, slow groan into the pillow before rolling onto your side to get a glimpse of the alarm clock on Hotch’s nightstand. The red numbers blink back 10:23AM. There’s a fresh glass of water on the nightstand alongside two tablets and a folded piece of paper.

Your brow furrows as you prop yourself onto your elbow and reach for the note. You unfold it with one hand and in Hotch’s tight, neat scrawl it reads:

Ran out to grab a few things. I left some aspirin there on the table. You should probably take them.

-Hotch

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you mutter as you toss the paper onto the bed.

You try not to gag as the pills start dissolving on your tongue and quickly chase it with the glass of water. After washing them down, you make a rather unattractive display of gulping down the remaining water. You drink it so quickly that some spills over the glass and you have to use the sleeve of your sweater, well Hotch’s sweater oops, to wipe off your face.

It doesn’t sound like anyone else is home. Pushing back the sheets, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand and for the first time, the room isn’t spinning. Even though Hotch is out, you still walk on the balls of your feet as if you need to be quiet. It feels strange to be stepping out into the hallways and walking into his bathroom. Sure, you’d swung by his apartment a few times to drop off a file or other work necessities. You’d never been in his house though.

Walking in and using his bathroom feels so strange, like an invasion of privacy. Like his bedroom, it’s simply decorated. A shower curtain decorated with blue and green swirls lines one wall. Plush bath mats of a similar blue line the area in front of the shower and sink. His very few toiletries sit in a neat row to the left of the faucet on the sink. He’s a Gillette guy, interesting. You’d always taken him for an Old Spice sort of man. You hear the front door and stop profiling his bathroom, instead, quickly using it for its intended purposes. You can’t help yourself though as you dry off your hands. You pull open the two drawers beneath the sink and smile to yourself. The one holds all of Hotch’s things: razor, comb, toothpaste, the usual; the other is clearly Beth’s: makeup, hair elastics, and the green makeup wipes sit neatly inside among other items. You bump the drawers closed with your hips before making your way back out into the hallway.

“Hey, Hotch,” you say, “Thanks again so much for—” Words fail you as you look up and see JJ and Prentiss in his living room.

Wide smiles spread across their faces. JJ spreads her fingers and holds her hands in the air, “Surprise!”

Brow furrowed, you cross the room and let them pull you into quick hugs.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you all, but what’s going on? Where’s Hotch?”

Emily’s perfectly manicured eyebrows arc toward her hairline as she tilts her head, “He thought you could use a pick me up.”

“So, he called you guys?”

JJ nods. “We’ve all had rough nights, followed by even rougher mornings.” She inclines her head toward Emily. “Remember the morning Hotch ran that triathlon?”

Emily cringes. “God, don’t remind me!”

“Where is Hotch, anyway?” you ask, craning your neck around Emily and JJ.

“Oh,” Emily says, her lips forming the shape of the word. “He should be right behind us he—”

Just then, the front door swings open and it’s not Hotch.

“There she is!” exclaims Penelope. She waltzes into the apartment, adjusting the massive purse on her shoulder as she does so. Her knee length pink skirt swishes around her legs as she crosses the room to pull you into an embrace. The smell of jasmine clings to you as your face is buried in her chest and neck. She pulls away after a long moment, though her hands don’t drop from your shoulders. Her eyes scan your face. “Oh, sweetheart, look at you. Do not fret! Penelope is here to help get you feeling refreshed and revitalized!”

You look to JJ and Emily for help. “I look like shit, don’t I? Be honest.”

JJ shakes her head. “Noooo.”

Emily presses her lips together and tilts her head back and forth, “Well—”

JJ slaps a hand against her stomach and Emily winces. “What?!”

“Drink this,” Penelope says. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a bottle of yellow liquid. You take it and turn to read the label, Crisp Lemon Berry Pedialyte. “It’s got electrolytes. You need those!”

“Yes ma’am,” you say agreeably and crack open the bottle. The label makes it seem like it’ll be better than it is, but the taste is bearable. You need as much hydration as you can get at the moment, so you don’t complain.

“Sorry I took so long!” Hotch’s voice fills the room as he enters carrying a drink tray of coffees and an extra one in his free hand. “Line at the cafe was nearly out the door.”

“Oh my God, is that coffee?” you ask, salivating at the thought.

Penelope points a purple polished finger at you. “Finish that, then you can have coffee.”

He sets a cup down on the kitchen table before approaching them in the living room. “Non-fat, vanilla latte for you,” Hotch says, passing a cup to JJ. “London fog for Emily, can’t quite shake England there, can you?” he teases as Emily accepts the cup, not before flicking him off though with a cheeky grin playing on her berry red lips. Iced matcha green tea latte—”

“With soy?” Penelope questions, eyeing the cup suspiciously.

“With soy,” Hotch confirms and she accepts it happily.

“Last but not least, almond milk mocha for you.” He holds the cup out and smiles warmly. You hold his gaze for a moment, the exchange carrying more than a simple ‘thank you’ would allow for. He dips his chin just slightly in acknowledgment. As you reach for the cup, Penelope’s hand shoots out to intercept, her bangles jangling against her wrist.

“I’ll take that!” she chirps before taking a long sip of her own drink.

“Hey!” you whine.

Penelope gestures toward the Pedialyte with your coffee. “Finish!”

You roll your eyes and reluctantly chug the remaining liquid. “There,” you say and shake the empty bottle. “Happy?”

“Very!” pipes Penelope. “Oh! Here!” she reaches into her bag and withdraws a drawstring bag. Did she own the Mary Poppins bag? How did all of this fit inside of her purse? “I stopped by your apartment and grabbed a few things. Toothbrush, deodorant, change of clothes, the works.”

“Oh, Penelope Garcia, you are my angel!” You gratefully take the bag into your hands and disappear down the hall into the restroom.

The aspirin has started to kick in alongside what attempts you’ve made to rehydrate and the throbbing in your skull has dwindled to a soft drumming. Searching through the contents of the bag, you praise Garcia’s name as you find your skincare and toothbrush.

It takes all of ten minutes for you to brush your teeth, wash your face, and style your hair up and out of your face. Garcia had packed you two different styles of underwear, (leave it to her to give you the choice of thong or bikini styled undergarments. She’s probably also one of the only people you’d feel comfortable rummaging through your underwear drawer if you’re being honest) a pair of leggings, and a cropped Fleetwood Mac t-shirt. You change quickly and fold the sweats and sweater Hotch had lent you. You throw all of your toiletries into the bag and shrug it over shoulder before scooping Hotch’s clothes into your arms.

Hotch and the girls are sitting around the coffee table on the couch and recliner, enjoying their beverages. Penelope smiles widely when you emerge.

“There she is!” she exclaims. “I brought your Birkenstocks too. They’re by the door. Hotch said you’d worn heels out and I knew you definitely wouldn’t want to be in those.”

“Good call,” you say and take your coffee from Penelope. You take a slow sip of the warm mocha and moan.

Everyone laughs. Emily checks her watch and shoots up. “We better get going if we’re going to catch Anderson’s performance.”

Your eyes widen at that. “Wait.”

Emily smiles and nods. “Yep. He comes on in about an hour. We figured you’d need a nice greasy brunch after last night. The place he performs at makes a mean breakfast sandwich.”

“And potatoes with sausage gravy!” Penelope adds. “Though I’m more partial to mushroom gravy because precious baby piggies should not be slaughtered for my breakfast.”

“Okayyy, Penelope,” JJ teases as she loops an arm around her shoulders. “I’m pretty sure they added veggie sausage to their menu just for you.”

“Yeah,” Emily agrees. “They were probably afraid she’d hack their system and mess with their food shipments otherwise.”

Penelope looks over her shoulder as JJ guides her to the door. “I could do that!”

“Gonna pretend I didn’t hear that!” Hotch calls after them as JJ and Penelope leave the apartment.

“I wonder if they remember I’m the one with the car keys,” Emily says, her lips drawn into a warm smile. “Meet you downstairs?”

You nod. “Yes, I’ll be there in a second.”

Emily nods and leaves. You cross the living room toward the door where Hotch stands, one arm holding it open.

“Hotch I—

He shakes his head. “Don’t.”

“No, Hotch. I’m serious. What you did for me last night, I can’t even begin to thank you.”

“And you don’t have to,” he says, his tone firm. You look up and meet his unwavering gaze. “I would do it again without question. Like I said last night, we’re not just a team, we’re family. We look out for each other. We pull each other up when we’re at our lowest. In fact, I should be the one thanking you.”

You can’t help the quizzical expression that pinches your features. “For what? All I did was wake you up in the middle of the night, throw up in your bushes, and kick you out of your own bed on a Friday night.”

Hotch laughs and shakes his head. “Okay, well when you say it like that, it definitely doesn’t look good. What I was going to say though, is thank you for trusting me. I know that I wasn’t who you expected last night, but I’m glad I could be the one to help you when you needed it. Furthermore, I’m incredibly grateful that you felt as though you could trust me to tell me about your past. I know that can’t have been easy. And if you ever need someone to talk to, I hope it’s clear now that you’ll always have a listening ear with me.”

A surge of emotion courses through you in that moment and you can’t help but launch yourself at him. You loop an arm around his neck and awkwardly attempt to hug him with the other arm that stills holds his clothes, the bundle of fabric creating an odd wedge between your bodies. Hotch is taken aback by the gesture, but his arms comfortably fold around your back and he squeezes you gently.

“I could’ve used someone like you, you know.” You say after a moment. “I didn’t really have any older male figures I could talk to at the time it happened.”

“Well, I’m here now,” he assures you. “And I’m not going anywhere. That is, until Strauss gets sick of me.”

You pull back and scoff. “Yeah, like that’ll happen any time soon.” You hold the clothes out to him. “Here! Before I walk out with them.”

“It’s actually a bit breezy out there,” Hotch says as he takes the bundle and passes you back the sweater. “Why don’t you take this?”

You reach out and accept it, pulling it back into your chest. “I’ll bring it with me to the office on Monday.”

“Sounds good,” he says with a smile. “Oh! And you’ll probably want these.” He walks away and while he’s off grabbing whatever it is he’s talking about, you scoop your heels up off the floor and slide into your Birkenstocks.

Hotch returns with a pair of black Ray Bans. “If I know one thing about hangovers,” he says as he passes them to you. “It’s how horrible a sunny day can be on the eyes.”

He reaches for the door knob and pulls it open for you. “Enjoy your weekend. I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

As you slide his sunglasses up the bridge of your nose, you curse. “Shit! The report on the McPherson case. I was going to work on it today. I’ll email it to you first thing tomorrow.”

“It’s already taken care of,” Hotch explains. “Emily and JJ took care of it for you before coming over this morning.” He’d orchestrated everything with them as soon as he’d woken up to make sure you had nothing to worry about today except for fighting your hangover. He’d not told them everything of course, he’d never betray your trust like that. Some things the team didn’t need to know, and that was okay. If you were ever ready to tell them, he knew you would in time. For now, he just told them that you’d had a tough night and would need some TLC from the girl gang. They hadn’t even bothered with follow up questions. The three girls were ready to drop what they were doing and change their plans to be able to bring comfort and fun to your Saturday morning. He’d have done the same thing for any of them if they’d been in your shoes.

Your lips quirk into a small smile knowing further words weren’t necessary to convey your gratitude and appreciation for all he’d done and continues to do. “I’ll see you, Monday.”

He smiles in turn, “See you, Monday.”

#aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #f!reader #aaron hotchner comfort #aaron hotchner hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #hotch #aaron hotchner x female reader

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taintedcigs · 1 year

Text

YOU'RE NOT SCARED, ARE YA?

wc: 4.1k+

pairing: ghost face!eddie munson x final girl!reader

warnings: 18+ !!smut, smut smut!!, MINORS DNI!! absolutely no minors!! p in v, dom/sub elements, dark!dom!eddie, naive and innocent!reader, final girl!reader, mean!eddie, fingering, kinda manipulation, slight dubcon, this is kinda dark so if this kind of stuff bothers u DO NOT READ!!, minor character death, dom!eddie, squirting (??), sub!reader, heavy/graphic smut, knife kink kind of, very brief choking kink, kind of a breeding kink??, praising, degradation (name-calling etc), mean!soft!eddie JUST OVERALL FILTH MINORS DNI!!!

summary: you were happy to be a survivor and finally ready to get back to your life after ghost face was caught, but was he actually caught?

authors note: okay so i watched scream 6 yesterday and i had to i just had to write ghost face!eddie !! NOo SCREAM 6 SPOILERS DON'T WORRY OFC !! this is for u wyv OMG hope u like it i kinda have doubts abt it but oh well!! also hope u enjoyed scream 6 omg @sleepy-wyvern the reader is very forgiving and just gives in im sorry for that okay ill write another darker one maybe later pls send me ur ghost face!eddie requests and help me indulge in this fantasy omg xo, em <3 line divider creds to @attxnt

The breeze from the window had you chilling up before you could realize. Your head popping in the direction of the window as your eyebrows furrowed, you never noticed that you had left a window open.

With a sigh you get up to close it, as it's already freezing inside, a creak on the floors causes your head to pop up again, more confused than ever, you look around.

The TV is faintly playing in the background, screams of a woman in the horror movie you are watching is pitching your ears as you hurry to turn the TV off, wanting to see what the noise is about.

As soon as you turn the TV off, you hear another creak, the sound is now familiar to you in an eery way, you feel uneasy as you tiptoe around the living room, looking around to see what is causing the noise.

You shake your head at your paranoid thoughts, it's probably just the noises an old house makes.

Huffing, you make your way into the kitchen, re-opening the fridge for the hundredth time that day as you wait for a meal to magically appear.

Another windy noise behind you catches your attention, you swiftly turn around. Nothing.

Then the loud rang of the phone causes you to jump.

The phone ringing isn't easing your worries, you know the Ghostface murderer who has been roaming around town, killing a bunch of teenagers in Hawkins was caught, but still, it didn't give you comfort as you saw the face of Jason Carver who was being arrested, he looked innocent —as innocent as he could look for someone who was an awful person.

You shake your thoughts as you realize you are being paranoid, the Ghostface killer is caught, you need to calm down, you remind yourself.

"Hello?" You answer the phone calmly, hoping that it's Eddie, ready for him to ease your worries.

"Hello," The distorted voice speaks at the end of the line.

"Yes?" You ask, curiously now, wanting to know who the caller is. You shake off the feeling that the distorted voice reminds you of the ghost face killer, you don't want to believe it.

"Who is this?" The voice asks, and you furrow your brows.

"Who are you trying to reach?" Your voice comes out small, you're still uneasy from the creaking noises and what had happened in town before the killer was caught.

"I don't know." The distorted voice sounds careless.

"You have the wrong number." You answer, any sort of phone call still gives you anxiety. "I'm hanging up" You almost huff, annoyed that it's not Eddie, just some random guy.

"Wait, don't hang up." The voice is soft now

"Why?" You reply, your eyes narrowing.

"Because I think you need to hear this." The voice is mysterious.

"Hear what?" You ask, confused.

"They got the wrong guy." The voice is taunting, and the uneasy, chilling feeling from before is back.

"What? What the fuck are you talking about?" You ask, getting more uncomfortable, you look around, the paranoid feeling setting into your stomach once again.

You thought you had left the ghost face killer thing behind, happy that you survived.

"Jason Carver is innocent." The voice is more direct now, it sends shivers down your spine. "Well, he isn't innocent, but he sure isn't the ghostface killer." The voice chuckles.

"Who's this?" You ask, your voice getting shaky now.

“The question isn’t who am I, the question is, where am I?”

"Fuck you, asshole. This isn't funny." You spit, ready to hang up the phone.

"Oh, I'm sure you would beg me to."

"You know what-" Your words are quick to cut off as you are swayed by a mysterious figure, hooded hands cover your mouth as you attempt to scream and squirm.

"That's not going to do you any good, sweetheart." The distorted voice is enough to make you shaky again.

A scream dies out in your throat from the shock, you are left speechless and you feel almost paralyzed.

"Let me go." Your voice is muffled, tears are prickling your eyes.

"You want me to let you go?" The ghostface masked figure tilts its head to the side, you eye him curiously, nodding slowly.

"Don't you wanna know who I am?" The voice is taunting you again, and as much as you want to know, you don't want to give whoever it is the satisfaction.

"Let me go." Your voice is still muffled, a chuckle is heard from the other end.

"I think you know who I am, sweetheart." The voice is oh so familiar now, but you are still in denial as you shake your head.

"I- I don't." You manage to let out in your shocked state, the ghost masked figure chuckles, and the distorting voice is now going back to normal as you are finally hit with the realization.

The figure lets you go as he rips off the ghost face mask off his face, you first see the curls, those curls that you twirled your finger around as you laid in his bed, are now taunting you.

A grinning Eddie is revealed under the mask, you are now shaking as your face is contorted.

No words come out of your lips as you stare at him in shock, hoping for this to be his idea of a sick twisted joke.

"Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?" He is fully smirking, you are speechless, you can't believe that it was Eddie, your Eddie who had been behind the sick killings.

"Eds...?" Your words linger in the air, you feel small, so small.

"Yes, doll." The nickname should make you feel disgusted, you should feel disgusted. But you can't help but still be so enamored with him, you feel disgusted by yourself.

"What... why- How?" Your questions are spiraling, your eyes never leaving his, you want answers.

"It's... you?" You are dumbfounded, and the expression on Eddie's face is something you have never seen before.

"Yup." He's quick to let you know that he really is ghost face.

"I- I don't understand..." You are fighting your tears now, and Eddie walks closer to you to cup your face, still gentle, and you are too shocked to push him away, too comfortable with him that you let him.

"It's not that hard to understand, sweetheart." He chuckles almost, your eyebrows furrow. "Why?" You dare to ask, he clicks his tongue.

"It's simple really."

"You- you killed them, Eddie." Your voice is meek again, it's cracking as your tears freely escape your cheeks, he's quick to wipe them away. His other hand still holding onto the knife.

"Shhh, angel. There's no need to cry, they don't deserve your tears." He attempts to comfort you, but you squirm. "Don't be scared of me angel, 'm not gonna hurt you, I promise." He reassures, and you want to believe him, as much as you're scared, he's Eddie, your Eddie.

"Why- why did you kill them?" You manage to ask between your tears, Eddie's head tilts to the side.

"You're looking for a motive?" He asks. "How about the town "freak" is getting sick and tired of all those assholes calling him a "freak" and a "satanist", so he decides to finally show them how much of a freak he can be, how's that motive for you, hmm?" He taunts, the knife is still behind him, but you feel uneasy.

"Vicki, Tommy H., Carol, Tina..." You name every one of his victims, and it brings a smile to his face.

"I had to do it, sweetheart." His voice is calm and collected.

"Why... why..." You are still in shock.

"Oh, it's easy, sweetheart. Vicki, Carol and Tina were awful to you, d'you remember how they splashed you with their drinks, and laughed while you ran away sobbing, d'you remember that? Cause I never fucking forgot." His voice was harsh now, he was feeling the anger, the pain you had endured in their hands.

"Thought it was funny to humiliate my girl, make her feel bad, and they thought they could fucking get away with it? No chance." He hummed.

"Tommy H. was a fucking asshole, he got what was coming to him, no real loss there." He was talking about these people as if they were disposable, and you hated to admit he was right, you would probably never admit it out loud, but all of them were terrible people, destroying all the people they didn't deem to be "popular".

You look at him, still in shock, you don't know what to say, what to think, especially when Eddie is standing this close to you.

"And Jason?" You asked, your voice was less trembling now, what Eddie had done was horrible, but you didn't feel as scared anymore.

"Oh, he was easy to frame." He grinned. "I couldn't let him get away with fucking touching you at that party, princess." His hands were caressing your cheek now, and you gulped.

"I knew you tried to hide that from me, you knew how angry I would get, you didn't want me to get involved or hurt myself... Robin told me." His voice was more vulnerable now.

"But I'd do anything, fucking anything to protect you, princess. And I did. All of them, deserved what was fucking coming for them." His eyes squinted, you could feel the anger radiating off of him.

"S'all good, now. You have me, to protect you, princess." His hands drooped down from your cheeks, as they traveled across your body, you couldn't help but get chills all over where he touched, you felt disgusted with yourself that you were enjoying this, but you had waited so long, so long for him, and now he was actually giving you what you had waited so long for.

"Eds..." You get his attention.

"They tried to hurt what's mine, they tried to take my girl away from me." He murmured into your ear, his hot breath fanning against your face, and you can feel the smirk forming on his lips.

"But I've got you now, princess. No need to be afraid." His words were late to register in your head, the infamous ghost face killer was in front of you, his body is pressed against yours, and he was telling you all about his murders, and for some reason, you were still not screaming and running away.

"I- I can't." You squirmed, your eyes were getting teary again.

"C'mon, Y/N. No need to make this harder than it is." His hand raised the knife, you felt your breath hitch in your throat.

"You- you killed them, Eddie." Your voice was shaking, you eyed his movements.

"You taunted me... with your calls." Your voice was shaky. "How the fuck am I supposed to trust you?" You gulped, trying to push him away, but he held you in place.

"Baby, I just had to warn you of them... they were supposed to be your friends, do you remember everytime you defended them to me, telling me that they were your friends and that I should be nice, hmm?" He asked, you were ashamed to nod, he was right, he had tried to warn you of them but he never listened.

"But they ditched you the moment you told them what Jason had tried to do to you, they humiliated you... you deserved so much better." His voice was calm as he attempted to comfort you with the knife still in his hand.

"I had to taunt you a little for not listening to me, but whatever I said to you wasn't bad." He reassured, you shook your head.

"But killing them was the only way?" You raised your voice this time, getting confidence from the way Eddie saw you as his soft spot.

"I was protecting you." His calm voice was more irritated now, his gaze landed on yours, and it was piercingly sharp.

"I- I didn't ask you to do that for me." Your voice was shaky, and Eddie tssked as he dragged the knife along your face, you squeezed your eyes shut, afraid.

He noticed your movements, and he was quick to drag the knife away, knowing it had scared you. "No need to be scared of me, princess." He still had that smirk on his face, but he was gentle now.

"Let me go or I'll scream." You demanded, but he just chuckled.

"Oh, my sweet, sweet, angel." He hissed, but he let you go. And you look at him dumbfounded.

"Go on, then. Call the cops, tell them it was Eddie, your Eddie." His eyes narrowed as they watched you, you gulped. He knew where to hit you.

You didn't want him to be in trouble, even after everything, even after how you had tried to hate him in these last five minutes.

"I- I..." You stuttered, and Eddie chuckled.

"Do it, princess, turn me in." He taunted again, and it's like you were unable to move.

"Can't do it, can ya?" The taunting voice was back again. But he wasted no time as he pinned you against the wall this time, standing closer to you than he ever did.

"Knew you wanted me, as much as I wanted you princess." His voice was sultry, the knife that was supposed to scare you was now running against your clothes, and he felt you shiver under him, it makes him feel more in control, and he loved every second of it.

"Look how you squirm with just my touch, princess. I bet you're s'soaked under that tiny little skirt, aren't you?" He questioned, you squeezed your eyes shut, you hated how much you were enjoying this, and you felt disgusted with yourself.

"Let's see." His hands were cold as they landed on your thigh, riding up your skirt as you sucked in a breath.

His touch was so soft and demanding that as soon as his ringed fingers circled around your panties you let out a whimper, Eddie’s pants tightening at the sound.

“You really needed this, huh?” He whispered against your ear, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck.

"Look at you, squirming under my touch, holding out your pretty little whimpers from me, you want this as much as I do, sweetheart, don't lie to me."

The hand that was holding the knife grazed your thighs, the knife's coldness caused a gasp out of you, and Eddie smirked. "Such a slut." He almost chuckled, and you whimpered at the nickname, Eddie knew you like the back of his hand.

"You enjoying this, princess? You enjoy me making you squirm with the knife I killed the assholes that tried to hurt you?" He questioned darkly, you didn't want to answer, you felt ashamed.

Eddie's hand that circled your panties cut contact, and you gasped, your eyes opening, he cupped your face harshly. "Fucking answer me." You looked into his dark eyes, and you nodded, simply. You needed him.

"Words, need your words." His grip on your cheeks was harsh.

"Yes- yes! I- I need you!" You stuttered over your words but it was good enough for Eddie now as he smirked.

Eddie's rough and demanding demeanor, as well as his protectiveness, was sickly making your panties dampen, you hated to admit it.

His hands let go of your face as they returned to their place, and his finger easily slipped past your panties as they entered into you without warning, you whimpered loudly.

“S’fucking soaked for me, angel.” He purred against your ear, his hands gliding in and out of you easily as your whimpers were blissful to his ears.

The knife in his hand was still gliding your thighs, his lips harshly collided against yours as you were left out of breath.

“Eds…” The words slipped past your lips in a state pure of euphoria. He focused his one finger on your spot, causing you to almost scream out, as he pushed his other thick fingers into your dripping cunt.

“Look at you, doll…” He murmured.

“I haven’t even fucked you and you’re already dripping. Waiting to get fucked by me, my little slut” He chuckled as his fingers stretched you out, making you gasp.

You were captivated by him and willing to comply to all of his demands. You had been yearning for him to touch you, for you to feel him, for his cock to wreck you utterly.

"Need to get rid of these." He hummed as he swiftly used his knife to cut your panties, you gasped, as the air hit your cunt, whimpering.

"Need... need you." You couldn't take it anymore, you looked up at him doe-eyed, and he almost melted with your words.

"What do you need pretty girl?" He needed more from you.

“Need you between my thighs.” You whimper as he groaned at your words. “Need your cock.”

"Need your cock, inside of me, fillin' me all the way up." Your words are enough for him to quickly free himself from his pants and boxers.

He hissed as his angry red tip, oozing with pre-cum, faced you.

You licked your lips at the sight, spitting in your free hand and taking him in your hand hungrily, giving his cock a few strokes.

"Atta girl... but no fucking, teasin'" His hands were quick to swat yours away, you pouted.

He took the knife again, this time he freed you of your almost transparent blouse. He recognized that blouse immediately, he could almost always see your tits from them, enjoying the way they jumped up and down when he purposefully hit the curbs when you were inside his van. But now he wanted to see them, fully exposed.

The knife was quick to get rid of the tiny blouse. His eyes devoured your bare breasts flashing him, and he groaned at the sight.

The hand that was free of the knife played with your nipple as he latched onto it, hungrily, sucking, pulling and everything filthy he could possibly think of.

The other hand with the knife was still travelling across your stomach, and then getting closer to your other nipple. always grazing to give you a bit of pain, but a hell lot of pleasure.

"Please, Eds, please." You were begging now, and he loved it.

"Such a lil' slut... begging for me to fuck you, after I just told you I killed all those people..." He mocked, chuckling. You felt your cheeks flush with his words, you were ashamed, but he was far from wrong.

He still had your nipple in his mouth, kissing and nibbling.

"You were fucking made for me." He murmurs.

"This fucking cunt was made for me." He lets go of your nipple, now his hands give your clit a tight pinch.

Eddie lined his angry red tip to your entrance, groaning at the sight of your glistening cunt, waiting to be ruined by him.

Without warning, he pinned you further against the wall and pushed himself inside of you, your cunt engulfed him almost instantly as his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

It was as if your cunt was made for him, gripping him nicely.

He groaned, your pussy was milking him as he felt nuzzled by your warmthness, he was in pure ecstacy, and he never wanted to let you go.

Your whimpers were getting so much louder now, and he never felt more proud. He growled against your ear and choked you out with his free hand, muzzling out your cries. He watched the way your tits rose up and down, enjoying the sight, making him sink lower into you.

"Look at you, fuck, princess. Takin' my cock so fuckin' well." He groaned.

"This tight fucking cunt was made for me. Made for me to fuckin' use, perfectly made just for me."

Eddie was sure he was in heaven as he rocked his hips roughly and deeper into you, splitting you open until he was sure you were stuffed with his cock.

“D’you know how long I wanted to this, princess?” He asks.

You shake your head, whimpering.

"Up." He demands as he taps your thighs, you oblige immediately wrapping your legs around him.

His thick thighs are pushing your legs wider, “I waited so fucking long to take you. To take this fucking cunt and make it mine, make you mine.”

“D'you know how much I wanted to stuff you with my cock, fill you to the brim till all that pretty little head of yours would be able to think would be my cock.” He growled, harshly gripping into you, your hands tugged on his hair guiding him to go faster.

"You wanted this as much as I do, doll. I can tell, I can tell by the way your sweet little cunt is milkin' my cock, lookin' so fuckin' pretty when you're s'fucked out." His voice was dark now, and being filled fully by him made you whimper once again. You nodded your head.

“S’stuffed with my cock that you can’t even speak, baby?” He asked, smirking. You nodded, needing more, you were moaning loudly now.

“Lookin’ so pretty beggin' for my cock, I knew you would love the idea of me killing for you, didn't you? You love the fact that I'd do any fucking thing for you” He purred, his hips pushing against you.

You knew it was wrong, what Eddie did was wrong, and you surely knew that him stretching you open with his cock right after he told you he was a murderer was wrong, but fuck, he just felt so damn good.

“Needed this so badly, needed to stuff this tight lil’cunt to the brim, show you who owns it.” He moaned loudly.

He was quick to slip out of you, and you gasped, he didn't give you any time to process anything as he plunged himself inside your walls in a glorious thrust once again, stretching you open once again, and making you scream out.

“Yours, yours, yours” You murmured, trying your best to adjust to his huge cock again.

Eddie eyed you as you squeezed your eyes shut again, your head fell back from pleasure, your pretty lips were shaped in an 'o' form, and he could tell you were getting close.

“F-fuck, baby. You're squeezing so tight around my cock. You gonna cum, sweetheart?" He asked, groaning.

With both of his hands he was now holding onto your waist, the knife in his hands was dangerously close to your skin, grazing every once in a while, and he couldn't help but sickly smile as you had a terrified look in your face as it did so.

Eddie decided you looked so pretty when you couldn't decide if you were terrified of him or you wanted him inside of you forever.

He was pounding into you harder now, and you couldn't help but nod, you wanted to, you needed to cum.

"Needa cum..." You whined and Eddie's eyes glimmered with lust.

“Look at my lil' cockslut.” He purred.

“Cum for me, slut.”

"Cream my cock, sweetheart." He didn’t stop his movements as he roughly rutted his cock inside of you, your sweet cunt taking all of him as you released around him, gush of wetness pulsing out of you.

"Shit... shit... Look at you, f-fuck." He praised.

"Squirtin' all over my cock, f-fuck, made just for me."

Strained moans escaped your lips as the sound of his skin slapping against yours mixed with Eddie's groans were all that was filling the room.

"Your cunt gets so tight right after you cum, shit- shit." He moaned, his movements were animalistic now, he wasn't stopping.

"Don't think I can hold much anymore, sweetheart. Need to fill up your sweet fucking cunt." He cooed.

“Fuckin’ made for me. You’re mine and mine only.” He grunted as he pounded deeper into you now.

“Gonna fill that tight lil' cunt so deep with my cum, sweets. Paint your walls white” He cooed. "Gonna dump my load so fuckin' deep inside you, you'll never get it out, sweetheart."

Eddie’s deep growls and his animalistic noises filled the room as he sheathed himself further into you before releasing his warm seeds within your waiting cunt, his hot cum quick to fill your insides, causing you to groan once again.

He let out a last groan as he slowly attempted to come down from his high. He felt ecstatic, his big smirk never leaving his face.

After he caught his breath, his cock growing soft inside of you, he sighed. Finally relaxed, he pulled out of you with a huge grin plastered onto his face as he looked down to admire his work.

His warm cum was leaking out of you, dripping down your thighs. He was quick to stuff back all of his cum that tried to leave your pretty glistening pussy.

"Mine." He murmured as he placed a sloppy kiss against your lips, taking you in his arms as he carried you to your bed, so you could have your well-deserved rest.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #ghostface!eddie #ghostface!eddie munson #stranger things imagine

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