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sanguineterrain · 11 days

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Your writing is so damn good, you execute every request perfectly 😭

Could you maybe write something where Dick's insecure partner wants to break up with him because their self-image is getting worse cause they feel they can't catch up to the Golden Boy reputation, superheroes, billionaires and so on?

hi, thanks for the request! I hope I did it justice :) a brief interlude from jaytodd before we return to our regularly scheduled program lol

dick grayson x gn!reader. low self esteem, an almost breakup, reader feeling insecure, threatened, sad. happy ending! 2.1k words

****

You've been tugging at your outfit for ten minutes. At this rate, you'll have to concede that this is as good as it's going to get.

"My love, you almost ready?"

You sigh and watch your reflection fold its arms.

"Yeah," you say softly. "'M ready."

The door opens. Your heart swoops.

Dick is beautiful, as usual. Your boyfriend can do a lot, including fill a suit. Both your and his outfits were tailor-made because that's one of the perks of being the son of a billionaire.

Over and over, you'd insisted you could wear off-the-rack, and over and over, Dick had said that was silly, that Bruce wouldn't mind.

And it's true that what you're wearing flatters you better than anything from Macy's or Marshall's would've. But you know it won't help tonight. Not in a room full of Gotham's elite.

"Just as I suspected," Dick says, immediately draping his arms over your hips. "You're gonna steal the show tonight."

He's lying.

That voice in your head has gotten louder recently, and you don't know how to turn it off.

You kiss him instead of responding. Dick enthusiastically reciprocates, always delighted when you touch him. You used to think it would be enough.

But ever since you found out that not only are you dating a billionaire philanthropist with a face that makes angels weep, but that said guy is also arguably the most beloved hero in Gotham, maybe second only to the Batman (who's his freaking dad?!), you've begun to have doubts.

You pull back. Dick's tie perfectly sets off his eyes. They're bright as they look at you.

"Everything okay?" he asks, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

"Uh-huh," you say, trying to smile. "Just nervous."

“Hey, it's alright. I'll be by your side all night. I'll save you from any and all small talk, promise." He winks. "And we can duck out early, get hot chocolate from that place you like. They won't care."

Dick's always doing that. Always catering to you. You're just some nobody who happened to stumble into the best relationship you’ve ever had with a golden god.

Dick never reminds you of that. That he could do better. He doesn't have to—you know it all on your own.

You swallow. “Okay. If you're sure. I... I would like to leave early, Gray."

“‘Course, baby,” Dick says, attaching his cuff links. "Anything you want."

You turn back to the mirror, wondering if you can reinvent your personality before you go and remind everyone what a mistake Dick Grayson has made in choosing you.

****

The party is tasteful, though a little stuffy. You're only here because Dick is going to give a speech, and he asked you to come support him. And while you know it's better for him to go without you so you won't dull his shine, it seems Dick hasn't quite figured that out.

You hold onto Dick’s arm as he makes his usual rounds. Dick doesn't enjoy these events, you know that, but he's fluid in his interactions. There is no doubt he’s Bruce Wayne’s prodigy. With his suit, his hair, his easy posture, Dick is almost unrecognizable from when you woke up with him this morning.

He's in his element. All you can do is peer in and watch.

Dick leans in and slips a hand around your waist after the fourth interaction with a donor. A donor who, again, acted like Dick may as well have been dragging around a coat rack with how intently they ignored you. Not that you give a shit about what the one percent have to say about you, except sometimes they say a lot of mean things, things you're pretty sure they don't let Dick overhear, and sometimes you start wondering if Dick is the only person who can't see truth in what they say, and sometimes—

“Hey.” Dick leans in to talk in your ear. He's warm and solid. You wish that was a comfort. “You okay?”

You're exhausted.

“Uh-hmm.”

He is going to wake up one of these days and realize he can have it so much better.

Dick moves like he's about to say more, pull you closer and permeate your senses with his gold.

“Dickie!”

Sweet, tinkling laughter echoes across the room. The crowd parts for this new woman, an obvious socialite, dressed to the nines and gorgeous.

Her dress matches Dick's tie. You feel sick.

When she reaches you two, she wastes no time grabbing Dick and kissing his cheek. He extricates himself from her, like he's done a million times before with everyone else who thinks they're entitled to a piece of Dick Grayson. He shoots you an apologetic look. You look away.

“My God, it’s been what, ten years?” she says. Then she sees you. “Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Caroline Banesbury, Duchess of Middlesworth. I heard the Dickie Grayson was going to be here, and I had to come.”

“Been a while,” Dick says, smiling blandly. “How are you, Caroline?”

“Spectacular! Father just bought another castle. You should come and see it sometime.” She plucks a flute of champagne off of a passing tray and smiles behind the rim of the glass.

“Dick and I go way back,” she says, gaze roving over him. “I hear you're transforming Blüdhaven. Taking a page out of Bruce's book, hm? You always had a big heart, Dickie.”

She grabs his arm and links it with hers. You sigh and take a sip of your own drink. You half-wish Poison Ivy would come in and gas the room or something.

Dick clears his throat and maneuvers out of her grip once more, letting go of her with a light pat. He returns to you, snugly holding your shoulders.

"This is my partner," he says about you.

Caroline hums, looking over you. "I see. Pleasure."

You nod. She turns back to Dick.

“If I can be of any help to your project, you let me know,” she adds, glancing down at where her empty arm now hangs at her side. “Anything.”

“That's generous of you, Carrie.”

Dick and I go way back.

Oh. Right. You're stupid. They've dated.

“We should have dinner,” she continues. “Catch up. I'm dying to know what Gotham's darling has been up to.”

“I feel sick,” you announce.

Dick and Caroline turn to you. Caroline looks perplexed, like you've just said you like to chew concrete.

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” she says, hardly sparing you a glance. "Perhaps you ought to lie down."

You feel Dick's eyes on you. If you don't leave soon, he'll know you're lying. Possibly the worst part about dating Batman's protégé.

Suddenly, leaving this hall is the most important thing you've ever had to do. You feel like you'll die if you don't.

Your feet start moving.

"Baby—"

Anyway, this is Caroline's chance. She can swoop in with her trust fund and while you think Dick can do way better than her—he can always do better—anyone is better than you. For Dick Grayson, who has been a master acrobat since he was a child, son of Batman, leader of the Titans, indubitably intelligent, capable, beautiful, the best goddamn guy you'll ever know—

You've lost your way. You're out of the gala, away from duchesses and doom. And you meant to get your coat but this hall that Bruce rented is enormous. You've no idea where you are. But you're alone.

Bruce must've known too, how unfit you are for his son. And why wouldn't he tell Dick? Unless Dick ignored him, because Dick, for all his smarts, is stupidly in love with you, thinks you're where he should put his heart, is certain you won't fumble and drop it.

Warm, callused fingers catch your wrist and you remember, suddenly, Dick telling you once, after you'd nearly stumbled into the street, that he'd never let you fall.

You meet his eyes. Why does he look at you like that? Who gave him the right to look at you like-like you—as if you could ever deserve—

"Hey," he says, squeezes your hand. "Hey, hey. What's going on?"

Dick Grayson is not a trusting man but he trusts you and good God, you're about to break him.

"I need to break up with you," you blurt.

"What?" he breathes. "What—why would you say that?"

You wish he'd give you the slip he gave everyone in that room, gently separate your arm from his hand. You never learned how to evade Dick's touch.

"Because it's true. Dick, please understand—"

"No, I'm trying to understand. Because yesterday—no, tonight, you were fine—"

"No, Dick, I wasn't fine! I haven't been fine in months!"

You wrench your arm away. He looks like you slapped him.

"You know anybody I talk to in there means nothing, right? You know that, honey." He's pleading.

You curl your fist into your eye. "It's more than that, Gray."

"Then tell me what the problem is," he says desperately. "Tell me and we'll fix it. I promise we can fix it."

"You can't!" you say, voice cracking. "You can't fix me."

Dick shakes his head. "I don't—"

"Why can't you let me break up with you with a little bit of dignity?" you ask. "Do you have to be better at this too?"

"I don't want to break up," he says, tugging at a handful of his hair. "This doesn't make sense. We're happy. You're happy, aren't you? Don't I make you happy?"

"Of course," you choke out. "Of course you make me happy. But you don't see I'm bad for you. You're wonderful and perfect and golden, Dick. And I'm a stain. I need to be scrubbed away."

"Wh—that's not true!"

"Everywhere we go, people see me with you and are immediately confused. I'm not a superhero, I'm not royalty, I'm not a socialite, and yet somehow I've managed to snag Gotham's darling. This is a mistake. I'm trying to do you a favor and wake you up!"

Dick's face is hard with anger. How could you have thought this would be easy?

"I don't need to be woken up! What is it that makes you think I have no agency over the people I choose to spend time with? Everyone I meet thinks they're entitled to touch me, demand me. Everyone but you. You, the person I chose to love, who I love everyday. Do you think you pulled the wool over my eyes and you're snapping me out of it? Is that what you really think?"

And isn't this the most puzzling thing? That he's not sad or gently accepting; Dick is mad.

"I just—" He runs a hand through his hair. "I don't mean to yell, but really, I can't bear it if you see me as some god on a pedestal, unattainable and inhuman, like everyone else sees me. I love you on purpose."

"You're so accomplished, though," you say weakly. "You're..." You wave your hand over him. "You're fucking Nightwing, D. You were Robin, you have superheroes for friends, Batman for a parent, you're beloved by, like, all of Jersey—"

"My love, you know those are just parts of me. You see all of me. You know me. And that's not a one-way privilege, okay? I'm so damn lucky to know you, to love you, to be with you, to fight with you. To fight for you. Knowing you isn't something I take for granted."

"But I'm boring," you say, tears spilling over. "Jesus Christ, Dick, I'm plain and untalented, barely a dime to my name, so painfully ordinary that—"

"Listen to me," he says, taking your face in his hands. "Flying around or shooting lasers out of your eyes, sure, it's cool, and it's helpful for taking down an alien dictator. But I don't need you to do any of that, honey. I don't need nor want you to be anyone but you. I wasn't tricked or swindled into loving you. We caught each other halfway, just like we were meant to."

You let him pull you into his arms, let him press your tear stains to his silk pocket square, let his hair fall around you.

His embrace is solid, firm, but when he inhales, his shoulders shake.

"Do you—" He swallows, throat against yours. "Do you still want to break up?"

His heart beats against your cheek.

"I'm just afraid you'll get tired of me," you whisper. "Bored. Annoyed."

"I won't," he whispers. "You're the least boring person ever. It's never boring to be loved."

You squeeze your eyes shut. Dick's warmth encloses you.

"No, I don't want to break up. I'm sorry."

He holds you tighter, and you realize you never had to match Dick's tie. Not when you've got his heart.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #richard grayson x reader #Nightwing x reader #Nightwing x you #Nightwing fanfiction #dick Grayson fanfiction #dick Grayson imagine #Nightwing imagine #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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dollopi · 4 months

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missed kiss ── mikey sano. 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

mikey is in love with you.

it's the type of secret everyone is aware of, an open secret you're not allowed in on for obvious reasons; though that hasn't stopped you from catching emma's incessant giggling whenever he's caught staring at you, nor draken's spared glances whenever mikey manages to speak to you.

it's just that type of infatuation, the one where he just can't seem to get close to you, watching you from afar with adoration in his eyes.

mikey is in love with you.

emma, ever the instigator, has been inviting you around the house more and more often, and for that exact reason he's been lingering around like a ghost.

his friends can't help but laugh once he's got a word in with you, as mikey goes on and on and on; unable to help himself while you're sitting close, listening so intently.

mikey is in love with you.

and here he is, unable to deny baji's triple-dog-dare he stands by the school gate, anxiously awaiting you.

you can immediately tell something is up, and with clammy hands and a strained smile, mikey offers you a ride home.

speeding through traffic as if he has something to prove, you make it home in record time, waving goodbye and rushing off with the titter of your feet.

you're in love with mikey.

it's the type of secret you've mistakenly reserved for emma, who's put her entire might into pushing the two of you together.

you're sure she's long told draken, who's incessantly nudging you, gruffly pestering you to just tell him already, damn.

you're in love with mikey.

you think baji might know as well, with how he's shoving mikey's shoulder, not-so-discreetly pointing to you.

mikey's long gone pale as well, and you can feel your heart sink into your gut when baji guffaws, loudly labelling him a weakass.

you're in love with mikey.

he might have an inkling by now, and you're not faring any better as he takes you home, mentally preparing for an agonizing rejection.

but mikey doesn't say a word as you dismount the bike, waving your goodbye and trudging toward the front door, before he's suddenly gripping onto your sweater.

mikey is in love with you, and you're in love with mikey.

he doesn't tell you otherwise through his strained confession, unwavering hold only loosening once you've properly heard him out.

and you do so with no protest, for what purpose would it make when you're feeling the exact same way?

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tr #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tr x reader #manjiro sano #manjiro x reader #mikey x reader

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toxicanonymity · 7 months

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stop playing

3.8k, (dark) slasher!Joel x f!reader

Ty @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for the slasher joel edit and movie poster. And @iamasaddie for the big girthy wrench and the mood board on the master list.

slasher Joel master list | spotify playlist

SUMMARY: Joel fixes and returns your car, pays you a visit, and stuffs you full of his cock and more. WARNINGS: I8+ unsafe dubcon P in V, creampie, m masturbation, crude language and degradation, knifeplay, superficial injury (cut), incidental pussy slap, fisting (be the change you want to see in the world), penetration with wrench A/N: If something sounds unappealing to you, please quietly skip the fic. This blog is kink-positive. Comments that could have a kink shaming effect may be removed, regardless of intent. Asks: @xdaddysprincessxx and 🔧 anon, ty

“Not here to make love to ya, sweetheart.” His cock twitches against your hand. ”That what ya want?” You can hear the smile in his voice.

You shake your head no, catching his scruff against your cheek. “want ya to fuck me.”

He chuckles, then puts on an air of sympathy. “Shame. . .that’d be nice. . .” His breath hot on your ear. “Shouldn’t’a left me.” You try to move and he pins you by your wrists.

------------

Joel is in his garage, under your car, finishing up. Yeah, he didn’t just tow it, he fixed it. Bet you're an ungrateful bitch about it. You're a brat, but god damn, you can take a dick. He’s never had anyone sink right down and ride him like that. He vividly recalls the sensation of being swallowed up. As blood rushes south, his cock strains his jumpsuit, still crusty with your combined juices. Every time he sees or smells it he thinks of how it all leaked out of your used up hole. He wipes his bicep on his forehead, then palms his growing bulge. He manages to ignore it while he finishes the repair, then rolls out from under your car.

He sits up on the roller, holding his big, heavy wrench against his thigh. He looks down at his arousal. He wonders if he's getting a beer belly as he sucks in his stomach to better see his engorged bulge. He unzips his jumpsuit all the way and pulls his T-shirt out from sticking under his pecs. Then he stands up with a groan and adjusts himself.

He sets his wrench aside and goes to the dingy old bathroom. His mom tried to make it nice, so there's soap and lotion and a little candle, but it hasn't been cleaned in forever. In the filthy mirror, he has motor oil all over his hands, and some on the side of his face. He takes his sleeves off and presses the hardness in his jumpsuit against the low sink as he washes up, then he takes his cock out and holds it in his hand. It's so fat he can barely get his own massive hand around it if he squeezes. You took it like a cock taking queen. He imagines that's what you are as he pumps the lotion into his hand.

He begins to stroke his raging erection and stares at himself in the mirror as he does it. The mirror lets him see a lot. His jumpsuit is hanging down, mostly out of the picture, the hems of his sleeves skimming the nasty floor as he strokes his cock. His hair is messed up. He rakes his free hand back through it. His forehead is sweating again as he runs his fist up and down his length. Cheeks are flushed, lips slightly parted, head tilted back as he's beginning to grunt softly with the stroke of his hand. His white t-shirt, stained with oil, stretches over his strong chest and little belly with a little dip of looser fabric in between, under his pecs. His sleeves barely contain his arms and his forearm flexes as he jerks it.

With his other hand, he takes his boxers under his massive balls so he can see those too. He tilts his head down, casting a shadow over his eyes, mouth hanging open, breathing heavily. He wets his lips and moans approaching the finish. He looks at his cock in the mirror and pictures you sucking his balls. Nasty little sex kitten sucking them so good. For a moment, picturing you between his knees, he feels like you want him. . . until his thoughts are jolted back to how you left him. His jaw clenches and he wonders what to do with you. When you're only good for one thing, you better be real good at it. Cunt. He jerks himself thinking about how you probably take so many cocks. He wonders how much you could take.

He takes a deep breath, his cock twitches in his hand, and he groans as he cums into the sink. As he finishes coming, he makes eye contact with himself in the mirror. Under his weathered face, for a moment he sees a younger, sadder man before his nose twitches into a snarl and he rinses the cum down the sink.

As he goes to leave the bathroom, half his footsteps are clicking. Something is stuck in the bottom of his work boot. He lifts his foot to look at the sole, and he pries a tooth from between the rubber ridges. He tosses it in the toilet on his way out.

. . .

Joel changes out of his uniform, showers, and puts on jeans and a tight t-shirt. It’s dusk when he gets in your driver's seat and starts your car. Empty coke bottles, goody's pain relief, fast food receipts, empty packets of gum. There’s plenty of personal information about you, too. He could take you tonight, if he felt like it. Fuck you and dump you. Oh, not figuratively, literally. If he feels like it. If only you hadn’t left him. . . he would’ve let you go.

He pulls up google maps and types in your address. It’s a long ass drive, an hour and a half, but might be worth it, he thinks. “What the hell were ya doin’ out here,” he mutters to himself. He knows the answer– whoring. Of course your gas tank is empty. He’ll fill it up on your dime. He hasn’t decided what to do with you when he puts the car in reverse. He'll figure it out on the way.

As he's driving off, the heavy wrench slides off the roof of your car. "God damnit," he mutters and stops to pick it up. Before he gets back in the car, he pats his pocket and makes sure he has his switchblade. He calls his mom on the way to your house and tells her he needs to swing by for his extra key to the car. She asks him to stay for dinner.

—---------------

It’s only been a few days. You’ve been driving Joel’s car. You know he’ll come for it eventually, and that’s okay, you think. Depending on how pissed he is about you leaving him handcuffed on his bed and stealing his car. You think about him constantly, and it always turns you on. It’s making you irritable, living in a constant state of arousal. What’s wrong with you? He could kill you. He might still. And yet, you have half a mind to drive all the way back to his sad little camper just to chain him up and ride him again.

You’re home alone, watching TV when you hear a car park outside, then a car door closes. You look out the window and it’s your car. Your heart flutters. Then you hear another car door open and shut–Joel’s car–and the engine starts. He drives away in his car without so much as a glance toward your house. Your heart sinks and you’re disgusted with yourself.

You go out to your car and there’s a piece of paper under your windshield wiper. You unfold it and it says, “Take care, sweetheart.” There’s something on the other side. You turn it over. It’s a drawing. You can’t tell what it is until you turn it to the side and a chill runs down your spine–not just from the content, but the quality. It looks like a kid could have drawn it, but it’s so crude. The focal point is a detailed vagina, clit, hole, labia, and all, liquid leaking out of it. In much less detail, there are two legs spread with knees up, tits, and behind the tits, a picasso type face you presume is supposed to be you, based on the hair. Uneven eyes.

Something’s wrong with him. And, of course, something’s wrong with you–Because your heart sank when he drove away, but it sank more when you read, “take care.”

—

You think about him even more after that. Non-stop. You convince yourself he was never going to kill you. He was trying to scare you. It was a fucked up game. You wash the grisly t-shirt he gave you–rendered pointless with slashes through the front, and stains. You wear it and wash it and wear it and wash it, and it’s so fucked up.

A week or two later, you’re taking a walk in leggings and a tank top. You’re walking by some woods in an undeveloped stretch of your neighborhood, right before a big, vacant lot when you get an unsettling feeling. You jog the rest of the way home.

When you’re standing in front of your fridge cooling off with a cold glass of water, you hear metal on metal and look over to see your sliding glass door being pried open. Joel’s imposing form pauses in the doorway. Then he turns and tosses the crowbar outside. He shuts the door behind him. He’s holding a huge wrench and his other hand is flexing around nothing, fingers slightly wiggling. He’s wearing his mechanic jumpsuit and a scowl.

His voice is deep and gravely. “Miss me, sweetheart?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” you ask as his boots thud ominously toward you. He’s so imposing, muscles begging for more room in his uniform. His nose twitches one side of his mouth into a smile, then he tilts his head and wets his lips. He lifts the wrench and lets the end of it fall heavily into his other massive hand. You stand frozen against the kitchen counter. You let him pin you to it with his hips, and that's not all. He puts the wrench down with a loud clunk on the faux granite. Then he plants his massive hands on either side of you, caging you to the counter. He presses his pelvis into you and the warmth of his semi-hard bulge makes you tingle. His belly presses into your middle. Your heart races. You wedge your hand between you and palm his bulge.

He laughs, nearly silently, then brings his mouth to your ear. “M’not here to make love to ya, sweetheart.” His cock twitches against your hand. ”That what ya want?”

You shake your head no and say, “want ya to fuck me.”

He chuckles, then puts on an air of sympathy. “Shame. . .that’d be nice. . .” His breath hot on your ear. “Shouldn’t’a left me.”

You try to move and he pins you by your wrists. You knee his groin and when he falls backward, you run around the counter. He comes after you with a switchblade. You trip over a pair of shoes and he grabs a fistful of your shirt on your way to the floor, lessening your impact. You’re face-down on the carpet.

“Stop fuckin’ playin’,” he growls. He doesn’t let go of your shirt. He stabs through the fabric and slices all the way down to the bottom hem, then turns the blade upward and cuts the collar in one quick snap. You squirm under him. He puts all his weight on you, pushing his hard bulge against your ass. Then he lifts his pelvis off you, straddles your thigh, and shoves his hand between your legs, digging between your mound and the carpet to feel you through your leggings. You know they’re already damp. Joel opens and shuts his hand over your cunt, plucking the stretchy fabric out from your body and snapping it back against your pussy. Then he gets up on his knees, pulls the spandex out one last time, and stabs through it. He rips a big hole in the crotch. And he keeps stabbing and slicing at the fabric between your legs and then he nicks your inner thigh and you yelp.

“sorry, sweetheart.” he backs down your leg and gives the booboo a kiss. He slices the seat of your leggings more carefully, ripping them all the way open, then he presses the flat of the knife against one buttcheek, separating your crack more.

“Stop playin’,” he reminds you.

“Okay,” you whimper and stop fighting.

He puts his weight back on top of you, with his belly on your back and his knees straddling your thighs and his cock hard against your ass. He cups your exposed cunt and growls when he feels how wet you are. “There’s my sex kitten,” he murmurs. “Pussy’s dyin’ for it, ain’t she.”

“Just fuck me already,” you whine, disturbed by what a lack of sexual interest could possibly mean for you. Then you taunt, “Unless you can’t.”

He runs his thick fingers through your wet folds, then pushes one, then two, then three fat digits into you. He slowly pumps them and his cock swells against you. You twitch around him.

He sighs and says, “Course I can” and unzips his jumpsuit. “Only ‘cause I feel like it.” He spits loudly, then notches at your entrance and he’s even wider than you remember. He shoves himself into you, parting your core with his absurd girth.

“Mmmfuck,” he grunts. He retreats slightly then plunges in and you gasp as he bottoms out. “That what ya want?”

You get wetter around his cock and he begins to fuck you at a steady rhythm with your face pressed into the carpet. His hand engulfs the back of one knee to nudge it on the carpet, spreading your legs open more. He grunts as he pounds into you with the thickest cock you’ve ever had, even thicker than you remember.

“Nasty girl,” he rasps as the heft of his cock splits you open. “Take it like a real cockslut, don’t ya?”

Your nipples harden at his words and you whimper.

“But damn you can ride it, too,” he pants.

He grunts and moans as he buries his girth in you.

“More,” you whine, unsure why you have the constant urge to provoke him.

He pounds you harder and faster, grunting like an animal with his broad cock stabbing into you, massive balls slapping your skin through the tatters of your torn leggings.

“More,” you beg.

“Careful,” he warns. “Cause I’ll give ya more.”

His hips snap into you, stuffing you so full of cock, rearranging your guts.

“More,” you pant and his hips slow. He thrusts his fat cock into you slower then takes it out entirely. The void he leaves is jolting and the air is cold on your dripping cunt.

“Fuckin’ warned ya,” he bites. “Turn over and keep your mouth shut.” He forces you onto your back so you can see him. He slices through your sleeves and collars and you flinch with the knife near your neck. He tears your shirt off. “Give ya more,” he mutters. He straddles your right leg so his right hand is closest to your cunt. He slaps your pussy and rubs his flattened fingers around in your ample slick. Then he wipes it on his cock. He repeats the action until he’s satisfied with his lube. Then he spits on his cock again and slowly strokes himself with his left hand.

He pumps his cock with his left hand, and with his right hand, he puts three fingers in a triangular formation and wedges them into your cunt while it’s still stretched from his cock. He pushes his three fingers in and out, curling them, moving them side to side, stretching you slowly. Your body catches up with him, and your cunt gets even wetter. You’ll probably shrivel his fingertips at this rate. He pulls his fingers almost all the way out, then adds his pinky to the others and begins to wedge all four of them into you, clustered together barely inside your entrance. He puts his thumb on your clit. All four of his fat digits push into you and you moan.

“Ooh she likes it,” he coos. “Ever had your gash this full?” You spasm at his crudeness. “Mm?” He thumbs your clit and keeps stroking himself with his left hand.

You shake your head no. His four move in and out of you, and his eyes glue to your cunt, watching you take them. He thumbs your clit faster and your back arches. Your cunt relaxes more, like you want to swallow him whole.

He scowls, sliding all four of his fingers in and out of you as your body keeps you moist. Then he slides them out and pauses. He spits on his thumb, despite how sopping wet you are. He wedges his thumb between his fingers, so his thumb and pinky are touching each other, clustered with the three middle digits. Then he begins to push his hand into you. You groan at the stretch. His hand is massive, and gorgeous. You look at the other hand wrapped around his cock. It’s veiny–they both are, the hand and his cock. He adjusts his position and his massive balls rest on your thigh.

“Wanted more, didn’t ya?” he asks. He’s only buried his fingers to the second knuckle, with the bottom half of each digit still outside your cunt. He subtly twists his hand from side to side wriggling it into you. “Yeah, you can take it,” he says. Thank god you’re so shamefully wet for this psycho. “That’s my sex kitten.” He lets go of his cock and plants his hand on the floor for leverage, leaning over you. His hand pushes further into you, and you feel his major knuckles prodding at your poor, stretched hole. He pauses as though taking in the sight. He moans and his eyelids are half shut watching your dripping cunt stretch obscenely around his hand. “Fuck that’s hot,” he breathes, then he pushes the rest of his hand into you.

The stretch burns when his major knuckles crest your hole, with the heel of his palm still outside you. You whimper and he keeps going. He pushes his hand in, making your hole grow even wider. Your cunt stretches and swallows his hand—his whole hand. The heel of his palm nudges your g-spot, and his knuckles push against your walls. He’s buried to the wrist now. “Fuck, yeah,” he breathes. “God damn. . .hungry, ain’t she?” He pushes in a little further. Your walls hug his massive hand and don’t want to let go. You’re shocked by the moisture just pouring into your core, like your body wants more, more, more.

“What’s wrong with ya, huh?” You wish you knew. “Lemme ruin your clothes, ruin your hole.” He breathes heavier, grinds his cock against your thigh, and keeps the hand inside you mostly still. He clenches the hand inside you and his breathing falters. He slightly twists his hand. He starts to withdraw it, then pushes it back in before the knuckles emerge from your hole. He does this a few times, partly out and back in, and your walls squeeze him. You writhe under him. Then, he begins to wriggle his hand out of you. “Fuck, you should see this, baby.” He sits up straighter and takes his cock in his left hand again. “Ohh, fuck,” he breathes. “Spread wide open around my hand.” his thumb slips out first and he puts it back on your clit. You whimper.

“Yeah, ya like that?” he rubs you with his thumb, four fingers still inside you. Your hips lift into him. “Good girl,” he whispers, rubbing you rhythmically. You look at his fat cock in his hand, leaking precum, and you want it back so bad. “Not yet,” he shakes his head. He moves his four fingers inside you and thumbs your clit, watching between your legs with his mouth hanging open, saliva pooling at the corners of his lips. The tension builds and builds with his thumb on your clit until you begin to clench around his hand and he groans as your walls clamp down on him. “Ohhh,” he moans. “Good girl, oh fuck.” When you’ve finished spasming around his hand, he slides it out the rest of the way. When it’s out, he gives a low whistle and lightly taps your cunt with the backs of his fingers. “Don’t worry,” he reassures you. “Ain’t gonna leave ya empty.” He picks up his massive wrench and admires the wide end of it, a little bigger than his fist.

You’re dumbstruck. It’s nasty, it’s gross, but your body wants it, really bad. It’s like a dream where you can’t make yourself talk. You don’t move. You just look at it, clit throbbing as he brings the fat end of the wrench to your deflated, weeping cunt. He uses his left hand to spread you open and hold you open, then the cold metal makes you wince and your whole body erupts in goosebumps. His left hand helps, sticking his fingers in with the wrench and using them to tug your entrance around it as he wriggles the wrench into you. He’s gentler than you expect. He works the wide end of the tool all the way into you. It feels so dangerous and crude, but at least it’s smooth. It doesn’t scratch, thank god. It’s a little awkward, the way parts of it jut out, but at least the metal is smooth. And having it inside you is somehow exhilerating

“And just like that,” he marvels, “ya took it.” He raises his eyebrows. “Damn.”

“It’s fucking cold,” you complain.

He begins to fuck you with it in short little thrusts, watching your cunt take it. You’re stretched around the metal. The danger, the obscenity of it turns you on, but you find yourself staring at his cock, wanting it back. He lazily strokes himself with his left fist. He follows your eyes and says, “Had enough, huh?”

You nod.

“Want my big fat cock back?”

You nod.

“Alright, kitten.” He carefully wedges the wrench out of you and inhales sharply watching it emerge obscenely from your stretched out hole. He watches your body begin to pull itself back together as he puts the wrench down and gets between your legs. He lines up and shoves all the way into you, sliding easily to the hilt. He begins to rail you unrestrained. “Not too bad,” he pants, sliding in and out of you easily. This time, he feels like an average sized man. “Fuck,” he breathes, already close. “Don’t worry. Won’t leave ya empty.” He slows down a little and seems to be holding his breath. “fill ya up now,” he pants. “Much as this cumsock can take.” Your cunt twitches. “That’s right.”

He slams into you and erupts, pulsing massively into your worn-out hole, and a second climax sneaks up on you. Your hips lift into his and he groans. He hovers over you as he cums, and you admire his face, barely keeping your eyes open with waves of pleasure crashing through your core.

When his balls are empty. He hovers over you for a moment, gives a subtle but demented smile, eyes sparkling. Then he pulls out.

“Whew.” He sits back on his heels, and tucks his massive cock back into his jumpsuit. Your legs are still spread. He brings his face close to your cunt and says “all fucked out.” He gives it a pat with the backs of his fingers again. “Mmm.” He zips up his suit and braces his hands on his thighs. He stands up with a groan.

“Why did you come here?” you ask him.

He ignores the question, picks up the wrench, and leaves you on the floor.

----

Thank you so much for reading and interacting!! Love you guys. Happy Friday the 13th, and Happy Halloween.

#dark!joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #slasher!joel #slasher!joel ☠️#slasher!joel miller #serial killer!joel miller #tw dubcon #toxicanonymity ☠️

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forusomimiya · 11 months

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"Rin… I can't m-" your words are forgotten by another sloppy kiss, so you let your thoughts slip away and become drunk with pleasure at his touch and his groans in your mouth. He desperately searches for your tongue, and when he finds it, it's too late to free yourself, you can only let him catch you again and again.

You open your eyes to meet his, which were already looking at you from before. Impossible for him not to admire your gestures as he kisses you. Warm, commanding golden gaze, which causes an electric sensation throughout your body, a shudder in the way he kisses you, rebellious, his hands delicately caressing your body, and with the grip of one of them on your chin, in his direction to take you easily. Your mind slips away when you suddenly feel other lips trailing down your neck.

Then you remember it, and your body ceases to be yours to give yourself to another.

"Hmmm she smells sooo good…" Osamu inhales your perfume, blindly undoing the buttons of your shirt to make his way to your tits, which he soon pulls out of your bra to squeeze, massage and flatter through moans that crash into your neck.

"You can pinch them…she likes it, don't you bunny?" Embarrassment takes over you and you hide in Suna's neck. You don't want to look because you know everything will get worse if you do, but fuck, they are the ones provoking you to do it.

Osamu is quick to obey Suna and test you, so you just limit yourself to giving him more access to touch, moving closer to him, silently urging him to take possession of your nipples.

"Both… p-please touch me both, more…" You don't see it, but you don't need to either to guess that your pleas have caused both men to exchange glances with each other, causing the hands of the man behind you to move down your hips until he reach the fold of your skirt and then lift it up, while those that were busy on your tits, move to under the thin garment to grab your panties and slowly pull them down to your ankles, perfectly following the intentions of the dark-haired man with a fox-like gaze.

You bite your lip in embarrassment as you imagine what Osamu would think if he touched you and found out how damn wet you are right now. He'd appreciate it, of course but, what would come after that?

"Do you want us both baby?" Suna knows the answer, but he is like that, irritating to a certain extent. He likes to expose you to your own desires in a manipulative way. He likes to be in control, and when he's in control, you have no choice but to nod quickly without a word, because that's just the way it is, you want them so fucking bad. Now.

"We wanna hear it, honey. Use your words" Osamu commands, kissing your neck again. Suna's hands have begun to give access to Osamu's touch on your belly, running his fingers across your abdomen, past your hip and down to your thigh, which he caresses several times, enjoying the softness of your skin before moving up the inside of it.

"Y-yes… yes please, I need you, I need you guys… please" your breath hitches with every touch Osamu leaves between your legs and every little nibble on your neck, though Suna hasn't been sparing touching you either.

You didn't notice but, one of his hands left the grip of your skirt to take two fingers into his mouth and lick them before returning down, this time directly to your pussy, which was still dripping, taking advantage of your lubrication to open your labia and welcome Osamu's thick fingers, delicately and sweetly pampering your entrance.

There was no difference in sensation between his saliva and your cum but damn, your clit was starting to throb and your legs wouldn't last long firm.

"Alright bunny, we'll be nice with you…"

•

A.N.: Too long for my taste for not to make a sequel but fuck, I swear to gods I'll do it, and it will end with another fuCKING SUNAOSA 3SOME 🤤🤤 because when I write about them, I'm mentally unstable and I like it 🥴

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chocsra · 4 months

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"Held like Glass, Kissed Alike"

chuuya x fem! reader - how he holds you 🙇‍♀️

a/n: to all my physical touch bbgs 🫶

content: how chuuya holds you, kissing, holding hands, fluff, drabble/small oneshot, smug! chuuya, soft! chuuya, not proofread, prolly grammar errors

"chuuya! hold my bag while you're at it!"

'cocky demands from a cocky person', chuuya thinks. "tsk," he tuts--the downpour of rain at the moment was horrific, especially in a city, a populated, developed, city drowned in sad puddles of slushy water. you and your trusted friend, chuuya nakahara, had came to go shopping, and unbeknownst to the subsequent downfall, you both stupidly didn't bring an umbrella.

so when the rain fell, he swiftly grabbed the closest umbrella in one of the restaurant's stands, successfully covering the both of you. chuuya is one of your close friends, and even though he's slightly annoyed most of the time and yaps a whole lot, he's also decently reliable.

you on the other hand, felt like you needed to make his life worse, a living hell. wanting to feel like those clingy girlfriends in romcoms, you pulled down your purse and dramatically handed it to him. watching as his eyebrows furrow in confusion, "might as well hold my bag while you're at it!" and yes, even with a baffled scoff, the redhead still held your bag for the rest of the day.

"i just realised, why do you always wear gloves?"

a romantic tune of jazz sung in the air, fancy clinks and clanks of cutlery swang past as you and your now fellow date, chuuya nakahara, sat in one of the finest restaurants in yokohama.

the ginger chews on his food intently, elbow planted on the table as he takes two gloved fingers, and motions you to come closer. you cock a brow, leaning forward, ear facing him.

"got a nasty case of athletes foot, but on my fingers." that's one way to swoon you, great work chuuya. the mafioso wiggles his eyebrows sarcastically watching as you sink away back into your seat. "thank you s'much," you reply, now picking at your food, "think I just lost my appetite."

the redhead snickers and pinches the tip of his gloves in between his teeth, removing it. "I'm joking, here." he smirks, a large hand urging you to place yours atop of his. you follow, feeling the warmth of his palms spread to yours, his hands were pretty damn big, bigger than a lot of men despite of his height.

"you like holding hands, hm?" the mafiosos smirks playfully as you try to hide the big smile creeping on your lips. he rubs the back of your hand with his thumb, gently looking as the moonlight illuminates your eyes focused on your hands. chuuya felt damn lucky he could ever get someone to look at him like that. the redhead darts his eyes back to you and your interlocked hands, whispering, "i do too, it's okay." even though chuuya was a terrifying mafia executive, he couldn't help but hide the boyish smile as he held your hand in between his fingers, feeling as your soft skin smooths over his rarely bare, lithe hands.

"this is rush hour in public transit, would ya look at that?"

you beam a light-hearted smile at the redhead beside you, in one of the most crowded subways. sweat and humid air pierced through, and so did the amount of space you could breathe in. chuuya nakahara, your newly and beloved boyfriend, hasn't taken public transportation in years. so he wasn't used to the crushing claustrophobia of other people at all, you, on the other hand seemed rather desensitized to it. smiling and rambling about how 'it's not that bad'. the redhead could only scoff in return, his right hand tightening on the bar for support.

"actually," you continue, clutching your purse in your left hand, "you haven't been here in a while, have you?" you smirk teasingly, causing chuuya to groan in annoyance at your words. the subway doors opening yet again, "well, consider this your fir--"

a new line of bustling people rammed into the compartment, as they filled the station, you stepped back in oblivion, almost seperating you and your fellow company. but with a calculated pull, chuuya hooked an arm around your waist and pulled you close to him, thumb rubbing at your side.

the mafioso lets out a dramatic sigh, "yeah, well? continue?" you look at him in a surprised gaze, eyes darting to the hand still tugged around your waist, even as the sea of other people weren't in threat of a stampede anymore. you felt a knot twist in your stomach as chuuya cocks a brow at you, waiting for you to finish your sentence. "shit, well, now i forgot."

"opinion on people who sleep with socks on?"

you weren't so used to grand gestures in general, but every month your boyfriend, chuuya nakahara, surprised you with something new just because you could deal with his shit. this month, he took you stargazing, with a small theme park next to your designated spot. neon arcade lights reflected off your face and eyes as he took a gloved hand and brushed away some strands with an ever soft graze of his fingers.

you, feeling foreign to the affectionate brush of his fingers, smile tugging at his lips, eyes rested on yours, asked the most random and stupid question that popped in your head. "what's your opinion on people who sleep with socks on?" the ginger chuckles softly at your question, still cupping your cheek, watching as your eyes drag away to anything but him. "shut up already." chuuya smiles boyishly, which reminds you of his raw humanity every once in a while. you hum in a quipped agreement before stiffling a laugh.

"happy not-so-ani-aniversary, pretty girl." chuuya's pillowy lips come down on your left cheek, leaving a soft peck as his thumbs grazes against the side of your face. his lips then connect to your right cheek, making your pinch one of your eyes shut as the redhead pecks your nose. uncontrollably smiling as you giggle, pushing your hair to the side as he presses his soft lips against your forehead, bringing yourselves down.

the mafioso brings you in closer, "i love you." he mutters, as he connects your lips to his. a soft fluttering in his stomach occurs as he feels you smile against his lips, taking his fingers in between your hair as he smooths through it. he was truly enamoured, enchanted, beyond bewitched. chuuya took in how good it feels to have you, a girlfriend, an asshole, a companion.

from every place he held, it was always just you. chuuya knew, that if his fingers fit so perfect in the interlocking of yours, curled around your waist, or cupping your cheek, he was meant to hold you. to be yours, as they say.

a/n: sorry for my vanishing bbgs, ill upload more at christmas break😔😔

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #chocsra #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #bsd x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya x y/n #chuya x reader #chuya x you #Spotify

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spamgyu · 4 months

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BACKBURNER // PART 4

DESCRIPTION: She had grown tired of being on his back burner, the person that he had kept warm until he gotten the girl he has had his eyes set on for years... And with a little help from her friend, maybe... just maybe she'll finally be the first choice. PAIRING: Seungcheol x Reader | Mingyu x Reader GENRE: Angst & Fluff PART 3 | SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

When he had told Jeonghan that his roommate had convinced him to go over to his best friend's house to finally tell her how he felt, he wasn't lying.

It wasn't just for show – to tell a fake story to make their lies believable.

"Seungcheol fumbled, are you going to do the same thing?" Minghao asked him, keeping his eyes trained on the screen while they worked together to complete their game's mission.

For the past few months, they had almost always circled back to one topic.

Y/n.

It was almost as if a switch had turned on in his head the day he realized that she was the one he loved this whole time. Just as has his mother predicted since their high school days, Mingyu had fallen in love for the one constant that was in his life.

"It's complicated, Hao. Shoot shoot– fuck." Mingyu cried, chucking his controller to the side as the screen flashed "MISSION FAILED".

Minghao shrugged. "How complicated could it be?"

"Well for one, it's one sided." He listed. "And then what, I lose her? Rather not have that."

"Just give it a shot. I doubt she'll cut you out anyways. She's stuck around this long, hasn't she?"

He was right.

She had seen the good, the bad, and the ugly and yet, she was still here. She still stuck by his side through it all.

He brought his fingers up to his lips, biting his nails – a bad habit he had developed whenever he allowed his thoughts to consume him.

The worst that could happen was that she could reject him, which he was 99% sure she would.

He just needed to get this damn weight off his shoulder.

Now more than ever.

Sighing, Mingyu stood from his seat. "Alright, I'm going to do it."

He had all the intentions of doing so that Valentine's Day. Showing up to her doorstep with a small bouquet of tulips he had picked up at Trader Joe's along with her favorite sweet treat from their bakery section – the brownie cookie combo that he swore was far too sweet for anyone's taste buds.

But instead, he was greeted by a girl with red eyes – it was clear that she had been crying just minutes before his arrival.

"Are those for me?" She sniffled, pointing to the contents in his hand.

"Yeah, I figured you were going to be upset this Valentine's day." He chuckled, lying through his teeth.

It wasn't the right time.

Mingyu wanted to tell her how he felt.

He wanted to finally feel the weight come off his chest but he knew it wasn't right.

Not when he still plagued her mind.

"Thank you." Y/n smiled, using the sleeves of her sweater to wipe her eyes. "No plans today?"

Mingyu shook his head, plopping down on her couch. "Today is for couples."

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

"Fake dating?" Minghao repeated what his friend had just debriefed him after his arrival. "At your big age, you're going to pretend to fake dat– You know you've had many bad ideas before but this one takes the fucking cake."

Mingyu groaned, putting his head in his hands. "I know okay? I know, I just– She– I don't know. You know I'd do anything for her."

"Including helping her get Cheol back?" He cried.

"I just want her happy."

Minghao sarcastically clapped. "Let's give it up for the stupidest boy alive."

"Leave me alone." He pushed his friend's hands away from his face.

"This is going to be so fucking messy." He shook his head as he headed for his room, leaving his friend in the living room to wallow in his own thoughts.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

After three days of non-stop activities, she was ready to tap out – groaning in her bed as she flipped laying on one side to the other. She had mistakenly agreed to go hiking with Seokmin, Seungkwan and Hansol the day before and as someone who rarely did any physical activities, she was regretting her decision – feeling her thighs ache under the covers.

"Let's do something." Mingyu suggested from his bed, growing bored of the show he had been watching on the television.

Everyone else had left the hotel early in the morning to go ziplining, and considering her current state and his fear of heights, the duo had opted to sit this one activity out.

Getting the rest they deserve.

"I'm tired." She whined.

"Come on, I wanna go back up north and look around the shops." He pouted dramatically, batting his lashes at her.

They had all been so busy trying to complete the itinerary Eunji had so kindly organized that day that they weren't able to fully enjoy all the small town had to offer – Mingyu making note to pay it another visit during his free time.

Which was now.

She never could resist him.

Letting out a sigh, she sat up in her bed – trudging over to her suitcase. "You better fucking buy me something."

"I'm your boyfriend not your sugar daddy."

Grabbing the nearest article of clothing, Y/n turned around and threw it at him – hitting his face.

"I'm the luckiest man alive." He chuckled, tossing it back at her – making it perfectly into her suitcase.

"You sure are, baby." She winked, heading straight to the bathroom – outfit in hand.

"I thought we won't use baby!" He called out as the door slammed shut – a wide grin on his face.

He didn't care if it was in pure sarcasm. Mingyu felt his heart skip a beat.

Just as it had been the past few days.

Oh he was down bad.

Within an hour, they were back on the same road, blasting the same playlist – the two taking turns singing obnoxiously along to her favorite songs.

"I like it here." She reached over to dial the volume down, turning to point her film camera at him. "Smile– oh my god don't pose– ew!"

After a year of nothing but pure heartache, riding the roller coaster of emotions that Seungcheol had managed to strap her into, this was the first time in a while that the girl had enjoyed her time.

She couldn't help but dread the thought of the trip wrapping up, having to face the music of her reality – going back in to work, coming home to an empty apartment... and be alone with her thoughts.

With no Mingyu to distract her.

In the past few days, she had gained a new appreciation for her friend – noticing the small details of his actions. Especially after voicing this to Seungcheol on the beach, in attempts to defend their lie.

And even more when Mingyu had confirmed this two days ago.

At the time, she was simply saying what was at the top of her head. She had always known that he was there for her, answering all her calls in an instant and showing up with no questions asked.

Even if it was to help her get a bird, that had accidentally flown in and wreaked havoc, out if her apartment.

She remembered how stressed and terrified he was of hurting the poor thing as he used a broom to usher the small creature out – recording the whole thing on her phone for future entertainment purposes.

"Thank you." She glanced over at him, a soft smile on her lips.

"For what?" Mingyu's brows furrowed, confused at the sudden change of tone and air between them.

"Just being a good person." Y/n shrugged.

"Are you going all soft on me, y/n?" He teased.

"Don't make me take it back."

"I'm kidding." He chuckled, reaching over to give her cheek a poke. "I should be thanking you. You bullied me into being a good person."

Aside from his parents and his sister, she had a big influence on who he was and the man he had become today.

Y/n had never once let any of his mistakes go by without a single lecture. He remembered all the times he would sit in silence while she talked his ear off, even if it was something minor as forgetting to clean the lint trap out of his dryer.

Something about starting a house fire.

Before, when he was in his teens and still unappreciative of her nagging, Mingyu would simply roll his eyes – letting her words go in one ear and out another. As time had gone by, he had learned to appreciate it.

Welcoming it even; beating her to the punch to text her of his mistakes and asking for advice on how he could make it right.

"Not enough though. How many girls have cried because of you?"

"Don't make me take it back." He jokingly threatened, using her line.

Laughing, she allowed for the views to distract her once again – snapping a few more pictures.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

"We should come back here. Make it a tradition." She said, as the treaded through the small tide pools, pointing out the small school of fish that swam along their legs every now and then.

"Holding you to that."

The two had many traditions that they had set in place, one of them being spending a week during their summers camping with both of their families. A tradition that began when he had tagged along during one of her family trips – it wasn't long until his family joined in the following year, their fathers instantly becoming friends during the first day.

This would merely be another trip that they would continue on until they were old and grey.

"Do you think our kids will be friends? Like us?" Y/n asked aloud, stopping him in his tracks.

"I haven't really thought that far."

A lie.

He has.

Though, he would much prefer if their kids were siblings rather than friends.

They say a man knows in an instant whether they want to marry a girl or not.

Mingyu was no different.

He remembered that day so clearly. She had dragged him along to the mall to help her find the perfect dress for Jeonghan's wedding, and with nothing better to do he had agreed.

She had stepped out of the dressing room in a one shoulder satin maxi dress, fitting perfectly on her body. It was a simple dress, no ruffles, no sequins, no lace. Just a plain satin dress; but somehow she made it look like it was worth far more than the tag attached at the seams.

Mingyu remembered his heart skipping a beat that day, the breath in his lungs didn't seem enough as he took in her beauty.

He didn't know what triggered it, maybe it was the constant talks of the wedding, but his brain was instantly flooded with the thought of being the one at the end of the aisle – waiting for her as she made her way down in a white dress.

This soon then spiraled to thoughts of a married life with her; spending the rest of his life with his best friend.

It took him nearly a week to snap out of this day dream, his mind constantly wandering back to that day and the whirlwind of emotions that hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Have you at least thought about what you want for dinner?" She laughed; bringing him back to reality.

"Poke probably." Mingyu muttered.

"Sh.. the fish can hear you." She feigned shock as another school of silver fish swam by her toes.

"Yummy yummy fish." He cooed.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Sitting atop of the roof of the car, the two picked at the various small bowls for cubed fresh cut of the day that they had picked up from the local market – humming in content each time they took a bite.

Instead of meeting the rest of the group for dinner, Mingyu and Y/n agreed it would be best to simply pick up the poke he had originally suggested as opposed to racing back to the city.

Watching the sunset while parked by the sand was far better than the chaos, anyways. The two needing a break from all the voices that seemed to always talk over one another.

"Hold still," He picked up his phone and pointed it at her. "This would look good on my story."

While they sat in silence, digesting the dinner they had just finished not too long ago, Mingyu couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked under the soft orange and yellow hues of the sun that had dipped halfway into the horizon – illuminating her face in a new light.

Both metaphorically and literally.

Without a second thought, the girl listened to him – holding her pose of looking straight into the shoreline, a soft smile on her face. "Lemme see." She held her hand out as he handed her his device. "Send this to me."

Mingyu swallowed as his heart battled with his brain to do the unthinkable.

Maybe it was the fact that they had spent the whole day alone, acting as though they were still around their friends – pretending.

Or the fact that this his trip had given him a glimpse of what his life would be if they were actually together, the flirting, the hand holding, the soft whispers, waking up to her in the morning; the sweet moments he yearned for.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was because he's been wanting this for so long – unable to hold off any longer.

"Bug?" Her head tilted to the side, seeing the gears turn behind his eyes.

There goes that nickname.

The one that they have sworn to use just as part of the act that soon became a part of their daily vocabulary. Even when it was just the two of them.

"Let me just–" His mumbled, leaning down – which wasn't hard as they were already only inches apart, capturing her lips in his.

She didn't pause.

She didn't push him away.

In fact, she kissed him back.

Bringing a hand to cup her face, Mingyu moved his lips against hers slowly. He had been dreaming of this for a while now, and he could have sworn he thought their first kiss would be much rougher – thinking he would be hungry for her lips.

But this moment was delicate. He knew that it could all come crashing down the minute he pulled away, so he proceeded it with caution – his thumb caressing her cheek as his tongue swiped her bottom lip for permission.

She allowed it.

Mingyu's head was spinning at this point, wanting nothing else but to stay in this moment forever.

But he knew he couldn't.

They needed air.

Pulling away, Mingyu swallowed; preparing himself to receive an earful from her.

Instead she sat in silence, blinking at him.

He had fucked up.

"I'm sorry." He croaked.

Mingyu knew that if he wasn't the first one to speak up, she would let the tension swallow them whole – leaving them to drive back to the hotel without uttering a single word to each other.

"I think we should head back." She cleared her throat, scooting towards the moon roof they had slipped through.

"Hey–" He placed a hand on her shoulder.

She turned her head, lips pale. It was clear that she had regretted what had happened, a lump forming in Mingyu's throat as the worst had finally come.

"What?" Y/n asked softly.

"Just wanted to see if you were foaming at the mouth." Mingyu joked. "Since I have rabies and all..."

A small smile formed on her face, a wave of relief washing over him. "You're so fucking stupid." Y/n ducked into the car.

"No rabies?" Mingyu called out.

"Get in the damn car, Mingyu." She called back.

They were going to be alright.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

For the first time in a while, she was confused.

She should have listened to the voice in her head when it had warned her that pretending to date her best friend was a bad idea.

At her ripe age of twenty six, she should have known this would happen.

Maybe it was the close proximity, or the fact that they had spent the whole day absentmindedly pretending to be a couple despite none of their usual audience being around, or maybe it was that he kissed her.

No.

They made out.

Either way, her mind was in a mess.

It wasn't like she's never had feelings for him before.

But the last time didn't count.

They were in high school — and everyone had a crush on him.

It was tiny crush that she had soon gotten over when she met her first boyfriend.

But this time was different.

There was more on the line.

Their friendship, their whole group's dynamic.... and Seungcheol.

The man who had been the main reason why she was in this predicament in the first place.

A part of her wanted to dismiss the moment atop of their car as a moment of weakness, the sunset and island hypnotizing the both of them.

Besides, it was Mingyu. He had plenty of girls in line, waiting to get a chance with him.

He must have simply been caught up in the moment.

If it was anything genuine, he would have acted differently instead of jumping back into the sense of normality as they drove back to the hotel.

But no, he made a joke out of it all.

It was a mistake to both of them.

But another part of her wanted it to be real – falling into the trap of their own acting.

While he had excused himself to the hotel gym, to work out with Joshua and Soonyoung, y/n was left with her thoughts – wanting nothing more but to silence it all.

She didn't want Mingyu, even if his actions was everything she wished for in a man.

It was– It had to be Seungcheol.

A knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts.

It was as if the universe read her mind, opening the door to see him standing with a plushie in hand – nervously shifting his weight from one foot to another.

"Hi." He greeted softly, holding the t-rex stuffed toy out. "I uh– it reminded me of you."

If her mind wasn't a mess before, it sure was in pure chaos now.

It reminded him of her.

She recalled back to the one good week they had. No fighting, no tears, no mixed signals.

She had come down with a nasty cold and he had doted on her while she was bed ridden – staying over at her apartment to nurse her back to health.

They had spent that whole week binge watching all the installments of Jurassic Park, cuddling on her bed despite her protests of not wanting to pass whatever virus she had come down to him.

He didn't care for it, showering her with kisses.

"Thank you." Y/n accepted the plush.

She picked up on his nervousness, stepping aside to let him in. "Is everything okay?"

He nodded, bringing his hand to scratch the back of his neck – trying to find the right words to say. "I– I want to say sorry. For all of it. The pain, the confusion..... I– I'm sorry for being a dick."

"It's fi–"

"It's not." Seungcheol shook his head. "I had some senses knocked in me and–"

Y/n watched as he licked his lips, pacing in front of her before he came to a stop.

"It's you." He breathed. "I– I choose you."

Her world came into a halt.

The metaphorical glass shattering.

"What?"

"That night, when you asked me to choose, I– I shouldn't have hesitated. I should have stopped you. I'm sorry." He continued, pain evident in his eyes.

He was being genuine.

Y/n tried to search for any signs of lies on his face, unable to comprehend the words that left his lips.

This was the moment she had finally been waiting for, but why was she so afraid?

"I know an apology can't fix it. But if you'll allow it–" Seungcheol hesitantly took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze. "If you'll take me back, I'll spend however long trying to prove that it's you."

taglist closed

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hanrinz · 1 year

Text

COME BACK WE MISS YOU — wherein rin doesn't really like your cat at all, maybe..

+ rin itoshi x reader | fluffy short drabble | i just thought of this while eating, literally unrealistic writing here lmao. ooc but who cares. idk this was so rushed

rin doesn't think he minds when you're not around, it's not like he needs to spend all his time with you. but, what he really minds is when you haven't greeted him all day or seen your presence anywhere. and then he would see you in an alley on his way home, you're feeding a damn cat.

is this what's been taking all your time away from him all week? a stray cat? and you'll turn around from your crouch position and give him your radiant smile, ah there it is.

but that doesn't really change the fact he hasn't been able to have you all this time. and sure as hell that damn cat knows what it's doing, looking at him with smugness. he knows he didn't imagine it at all.

it was stupid, really. a cute fur stray against him a talented striker, and you chose that lukewarm animal.

and it's coming home with you? what? it's living in your house? hell. now he has to fight for his position? oh, he'll win this. he'll make your cute little cat know he doesn't back down from a challenge.

"rin, please stop giving death glares to our child,"

yeah, no. he tries to behave himself anyway. he only does it for you. if sees that cat laying on your lap he'll literally throw hands any minute.

you're pretty sure your boyfriend will love the cat you brought home and this is not what you expected from him. nevertheless, you're determined to make them get along with each other, note — more on your boyfriend's part.

and you just had the perfect idea.

fortunately, you had to leave for two days to visit your grandparents for the weekend. the perfect excuse to leave rin with your cat, and he can't refuse either. you had convinced reo and the other guys not to be free on those times, even telling them not to answer rin if he ever did. not that he'll do it, but it's better to be prepared.

and the day you'll be leaving has come, making a list for rin, the things he will be doing. he was listening intently, nodding and storing every bit of information in his brain.

"i'll be back on sunday evening, are you sure you'll be okay?" you asked, a little hesitant about this, but you really can't go back now.

"don't worry 'bout me, you should go now. don't make them wait for you too long."

"i'll call you!" you said as you kissed him goodbye boarding on the train to your hometown. your cat curling in his arms, purring like a farewell say on you, it had you smiling from how rin looks holding your cat.

"take care of our child!" you said a little too loud. you laughed, seeing rin's embarrassed face from your words and how some people have looked on your way.

god, why do you have to pertain to this little feline as your child. he's definitely gonna miss you.

on the way back to your apartment, he had stopped by the convenience store to buy cat food, browsing through the different kinds not really knowing which one you always buy. he had almost fish out his phone out his pocket to text you, but decided against it.

looking at your cat, lucky—yes, you named it lucky—he had contemplated as if the cat would talk and tell him which one it likes.

"the red one or the blue one?" he muttered to himself and it was stupid, but your cat grabbed the green one on the shelf giving him the answer he's been looking for. when did food get so expensive? he's ignoring the fact what just happened a minute ago.

paying for everything and heading back home, he did everything you had instructed him not a single left uncheck on your list, feeling a little proud of himself. taking a spot on your couch to read as he waits for your call.

your little cat climbing on his lap, turning as it lays down on him, leaning its head in his hands, urging him to pet it and he did. he thinks it was not so bad spending a whole weekend with your child in his hands.

"hey, did i wake you?" you asked from the other side of the call, trying to lower your voice as you see rin's messed up hair and your cat laying on his lap sound asleep, a book which seems to be haphazardly thrown on the side of the couch.

rin rubbed his eyes awake, looking through his screen as his lips quirk up a little. "are you coming home soon?" he muttered, his voice raspy.

you hum in response, as you secretly take a picture of him and lucky. a new addition to your gallery, smiling to your self.

"..we miss you,"

"we?" you laughed from this shocking revelation, well it looks like they got along pretty well.

"yeah," he confessed.

"i miss you too, rin," and you could only smile more.

i was hoping to post more this week, but i have something coming up this weekend so please take this small offering◝꒰ ´ ˘ '♡ ꒱

#roses ‘r rosie #i love cats i swear #blue lock x reader #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #blue lock x you #blue lock fluff #blue lock #blue lock headcanons #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #bllk headcanons #rin itoshi #rin itoshi fluff

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sunderwight · 4 months

Text

Thinking about a situation where SQQ gets a look at Luo Binghe's package (post-Abyss but pre-Maigu Ridge, or in an AU where Maigu Ridge doesn't happen) through like, the outline of his pants or whatever (maybe Binghe took a wardrobe tip from Jareth of Labyrinth), and then got to thinking about how huge Luo Binghe's meat is, like in an actually non-sexual way this time just his brain gets onto a tangent about a bunch of scenes from PIDW where the descriptions varied wildly, and then he starts wondering about exactly what size it is, because to go by the novel's descriptions it's either bigger than average but not insane or there's another arm stuffed into that codpiece somehow. Surely it's closer to the former than the latter? SQQ doesn't have any other evidence that physical limitations in this world are that different from his own world, but then again, would it come up in any of his conversations if women in this world have sufficiently cavernous vaginas for damn near every virgin Bingge met to accommodate a dick that big? Does it at least make childbirth easier? He hasn't exactly polled anyone on it, so it could be the case. But what about the back door, so to speak? There were a few sex scenes that went in that direction, forbidden tunnel of love type stuff and it was all incredibly bad and cheesy, but of course, SQQ actually has a "back door" too and surely he would notice if it was possible to stick his own arm up it. Although it's also not as if he's tried, and as a peak lord with a fantasy metabolism he doesn't actually have to take a shit either, his body processes everything extremely efficiently and it's been years since... well anyway it's not like he's had occasion to investigate it much, now that he's thinking about it. Maybe he can? Not that this is relevant information to anything though and given the inconsistencies the probable limitations of the numerous people PIDW Binghe had sex with, his package, though prodigious, is probably not actually that big of a weapon. How could he even comfortably keep it contained otherwise...? Etc etc etc.

Meanwhile the entire time he's having this internal spiel, he's just... staring. At Luo Binghe's dick. Really blatantly. It doesn't even occur to him that he's doing something incriminating about his interests or possible attraction precisely because he's not, for once, getting flustered about it (much) but is in fact genuinely vexed by the mystery. This is not so much a case of imagining Luo Binghe's dick as wondering about fantasy physiology. So he's lost track of where his gaze has wandered.

The longer it goes on for though the more flustered Luo Binghe gets though. Like, should he say something? Is this a prelude to Shizun making a move? Is there... something wrong with it? Why is he staring so intently? Is Shizun aware that he has just been looking straight at Luo Binghe's dick for almost ten minutes now...? He should definitely say something, right? Maybe this is his chance! Or maybe he should wait and see what Shizun does next? Should he try a line? Something suave? Ask if he wants to see it! Shizun can absolutely see Binghe's dick if he wants to! No wait, but what if Shizun is planning on making a move and he ruins it by being impatient? He should wait and see where this is going.

...How long is it going to take, though...?

Luo Binghe's brain frazzles between trying to decide if he should make a move or prepare to be receptive towards one, or maybe check and make sure his dick hasn't turned into tentacle or something without him noticing, while Shen Qingqiu slooowly (very slowly) begins to realize that yes, he has been staring at Luo Binghe's dick while lost in thought for such a long time that now it's weird. It's definitely weird. He should look away now, at once, except now if he stops staring at Binghe's dick it's going to end whatever stalemate this is and he's probably going to have to explain why he was ogling it in the first place, and he definitely cannot explain anything, so he just keeps staring while furiously trying to think of a non-gay explanation for why he's now glaring intensely at Luo Binghe's crotch.

...He can't think of anything. Oh god. This is a disaster. Luo Binghe is going to kill him for being a perve!

(Good luck, Binghe.)

#svsss #bingqiu #scum villain's self saving system #long post #I imagine this goes on for so long that they actually get interrupted before either one of them breaks the tension #sqq: oh thank god hopefully binghe will just forget about this whole thing haha it never happened it definitely never happened #lbh: is definitely not going to forget about this #is in fact going to fixate on it forever now thanks #is already trying to figure out how to ask what sqq thinks of his dick #is going to keep wearing the david bowie pants until it happens again for sure #sqq being conscious of what happened is now NOT looking in that direction at all ever again nope #the farce continues

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miheartsedthings · 28 days

Note

Billy request if you do em :)

52. “Can I kiss you?”

TA-DA! Hope you didn't think I forgot you or anything.

Summary: Post- graduation, Billy's found-family has been teaching him about consent. He hasn't fully grasped it.

"Can I Kiss You?"*

TW: Dubious consent

Billy and his friends approach you at the first party of the semester. Billy’s one of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen in person, overshadowing anyone else you’ve met on campus and easily trumping everyone at the party. You don’t expect to look up from your drink and have his undivided attention. Yet there he is, sauntering over to you in a leather jacket with no shirt underneath. In his eyes is such a steady determination you find yourself unable to look away as he approaches.

“Ask her first, B.” Steve urges him but Billy's eyes are cloudy with drink and intention. Nancy stands red-faced between him and Robin while Steve is shaking his head at the way Billy is invading your personal space. Whatever group mission they're on has already derailed and you're at the center of it.

“Damn,” he says, his eyes dragging up and down your form “Gorgeous, every time.” His proximity forces you against the wall.

“Billy boy,” Robin calls with a chuckle, “Ask.”

“Ask–?” you're interrupted as he takes your cheeks into his warm palms.

“Can I?”

Billy pulls you into a kiss, intense and greedy. He knows you want him just as much as he wants you. His mouth is warm, beer sour. His breath brushes your face as he turns that penetrating gaze into your eyes.

“You liked that. Yeah?”

His words are buried under music for the others, but you hear him loud and clear, nose to nose as you are. You nod.

“What did you wanna ask?”

Your tone is distracted, and your brain goes fuzzy when he kisses you again, your back bumps into the wall and you hold his forearms. His friends are snickering behind him.

“There goes the consent rule” Steve says.

“Was that ever a stable subject for him?” Nancy adds.

Billy picks you up and you straddle him, earning moans from the others which both of you ignore. Billy takes you somewhere, a playful grin spreading his lips as he carries you up the steps. He’s drunk, stumbling to the side a little, bumping you into the wall. The two of you laugh.

“A little sloppy, huh?” You chide.

He snickers, tossing you up against his chest, his hands gripping up under your skirt, the sudden violation elicits a startled, thrilling sound as you look down at him with renewed excitement. His eyes amused, daring you to doubt his control.

“Yeah,” he says, “A bit.”

Upstairs, the music slightly faded, the darkened hallway is sparse of bodies. The occasional mumbled voice from behind a closed door is all. Billy backs you against a wall and now your tongues have met. Your fingers play in his hair and his crotch is pushed against yours, warm and so close. This feeling is painfully good. The power of being that thing he wants to fuck. Radient with some golden honey men can smell. His tongue curls into your mouth to taste it, hands messaging your ass, his fingers rubbing the little strip of cloth covering your pussy.

He moves to your neck, biting hard enough to startle you and then sucking, intent on leaving a mark as his hips grind into you. The hard curve of his tip bumps your clit and your hand tightens in his hair. He’s warm. His toned body between your legs, pressing you to the wall, his mouth against your neck, drawing moans without hardly trying. The pressure of him between your legs feels so sweet. So perfect.

He moves his mouth to your cleveage, then pulls down your dress, exposing your tits, and in the moment between seeing your nipples and sucking them, words tumble from his lips which reach your ears at a delay.

“Can I?”

Every swirl of his tongue around your nipple sends a little surge right through your clit, a magic trick that makes you press his head in harder, urging his sucking and gently nibbling.

“Fuck,” you breath, every little swivel of your hips grinds against his shaft, and he moans, switching to your other nipple. Footsteps on the stairs send a flush of raw nerves buzzing through you in a warm rush. “Someone’s coming.”

Your words hushed against his ear only excite him more. The idea that someone will see the two of you- see you with your legs open for him, as close to fucking as kissing can get.

“Billy,” you whisper. The people have reached the hall and you know they’ve spotted you, their loud voices drop to hushed tones. A flush of embarrassment makes you squirm against the wall, burying your face into his neck to hide. “Billy, please.”

Finally, he listens. Abruptly, he takes your weight against him and continues down the hall, bursting into the first room you find unlocked. You find yourself tossed onto your back on a mess of blankets. Billy pulls off your panties, his eyes heavy with lust and focused on your nakedness as he stands back and takes off his jacket.

“Fuck, baby,” his eyes trail up to your chest, and finally your face. He smirks. “Don’t look so nervous.”

“I’m not,” you say, though your words are belied by the quiver in your voice. You prop yourself up on your elbows as Billy is crawling onto the bed, his hand falls to your lips, rubbing your wetness over them, staring down at the act like it’s just so beautiful.

“Billy,”

“Yeah?”

He doesn’t look up. Transfixed as he is by the slow swirling.

“What did you wanna ask me?”

He pushes his middle finger inside, and as he does, as he’s sinking in past the first knuckle and you’re softening at the feeling- his lips part, a wisp of an exhale. Finally, he looks at you with those drunken, lover-boy eyes and all of you goes warm from the center of your stomach out.

“If I could kiss you,” he says, leaning closer, eyeing your mouth again, his weight sinking the mattress beside your hip. You feel like a small animal about to be eaten. You start to form words, but he’s so close, and just as you try he pushes in another finger.

“Ask me? You didn’t–”

He’s kissing you, and his fingers are buried inside, curving into your flesh, pulling wetness out of you like fingering fruit. He groans and pulls back to look down.

“Fuck,” he says, “I knew it. Fuckin knew you were like this.”

He pulls harder, his fingers pushing hard and slow and every stroke brings more out of you, making you moan, turning your mouth onto his neck, your hands into his hair. You never do manage to answer the question. He never gets around to properly asking.

Hope you loved it ~

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy stranger things #stranger things #fanfic #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove 18+#miheartsedthings

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futureplayboibunnie · 1 year

Text

‘’TENSION’’

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

18+

- it’s been a hot hot minute but i’m back (still got exams rip) but i just couldn’t help myself, i’m far too obsessed with Hotch atm. my tortured serious detective heart can’t take it. i deliberately made this so fucking long cause i love the tension before the smutty smut. love u guys i’ll be back more consistently soon xx

The sky turned black and it felt like you lost yourself in the cool damp night, staring at nothing but a blaring white screen sitting at your desk praying for this unnerving blankness to end. Even when flying back and the case is successfully solved and profiled, the paperwork that you promised to Hotch earlier was calling to you and you didn't have the chance to call it a night like your fellow teammates. So you sat hollow-eyed at your desk, writing up the events of today. You did have a choice in the matter though- to smooth over the endless tension with Hotch, your boss. Every time you remember any sort of interaction with him, your eyes crease and your brows furrow involuntarily- it was as if there was a heavy feeling in your chest, not from sadness or insult but a tight frustration you couldn't seem to bury no matter how strong your intentions were.

It was only you here in the bullpen and only Hotch brooding in his office, your glassy eyes flicked every so often to see him through his blinds sitting at his desk. It was so late and your brain was turning to white noise and heavy thumps, your clear thinking was fleeing you every minute you sat at your desk. You pondered walking in and talking to him. Confronting him over the events that sent the frosty tension biting down your spine.

The group sat around, unfocused and loitering from desk to desk discussing anything other than the case at hand which wasn't a prudent choice considering you were the newest addition to the team and you couldn't afford to have a bad rap sheet, especially when your boss was the Aaron Hotchner who has a severe attitude and a nerve made of steel- so if you crossed him, he would make it apparent that your behavior would not be tolerated and if it repeats...the consequences far outweighed the risks. Even though you've been here for a year, the tension between you and Hotch hasn't eased, in fact, they froze over tenfold. But it didn't matter because you were just as bitter. You couldn't help it slip out sometimes, just because you were new it didn't mean that you were a people pleaser that was a doormat to anyone with $800 real Italian leather shoes, namely Hotch’

It was difficult to deny that he was…attractive. He moved in silence and it was deafening, he was cold and distant but your intrigue was impossible to quell- he was hot. And completely unlikeable.

And before you knew it, Hotch was right in front of you, with a discerning and severe look on his face that you couldn't seem to shake. All of a sudden, Prentiss and Reid had wandering eyes that looked around elsewhere as they walked away like children trying to hide. Shit.

‘’Agent, a word please.’’ He instructed in that soft yet firm voice of his, knowing that it wasn't friendly and it wasn't insulting- just so fucking polite. It was in this cool middle ground that was filled with grit and tender resentment- unconventionally paradoxical and entirely inconvenient. You shot Emily and Spencer a worried look and their eyes also mimicked your panic and uncertainty, giving a shrug back at you.

You stood proud, however, squaring your shoulders upright when you followed his lead back up to his office, your only view being the back of his tailored suit. Damn, his shoulders were…broad.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

A million self-referential questions flew through your head like a million comets in the sky.

Did you offend him?

Did you make a comment that messed up his view of you forever?

Does he think you can't do your job anymore?

Is he going to transfer you?

Replace you?

Like the polite asshole he was, Hotch left the door open for you and motioned you to take a seat before he was sitting behind his desk waiting to interrogate you and catch you out. You could handle this though, you weren't afraid of him. You sat cross-legged awaiting his charred words but he took a moment to study you.

Hotch wasn't a man that mixed business and his own personal opinion. Subjectivity was the downfall of many leaders of this team before him and he absolutely didn't want anything to change now. This was the sole reason he had been giving you a hard time through the guise of being mistrusting of the newest addition to his team...though it was easy to admit that he didn't trust you, he barely knew you- he glared at you through lifeless and surveying eyes.

‘’I wanted to inform you that your case reports for the previous case haven't been handed to me, the deadline for it was last night and I don't appreciate tardiness.’’ Hotch scolded you with a flatlined voice that was threatening if you listened to it right- you were a profiler, of course, you picked that up.

‘’I completely understand that sir, but I wanted my account to be more detailed and diligent.’’

‘’Why is that?’’ He was inspecting you further and you felt like you were under a microscope.

‘’Because I was the one that shot the unsub.’’ Your voice was heavy even though you knew this wasn't a good excuse. Reid and Morgan once used this excuse to delay the paperwork but it never worked, it only earned them a verbal tongue-lashing on how paperwork deadlines are important as it allows records and cases to be fully sealed, you couldn't move on without finishing them. You internally winced and your neck burned with regret at saying that. It wasn't like this was the first time you shot someone.

Hotch just stared at you, he should be down your throat about these things but he was finding it difficult to draw the line between being your boss and his own personal feelings he was beginning to harbor for you. This all started when you first started a year ago- when you first walked into his office he was taken aback by your hard-angled features and your tight lip, most people who join the BAU have a tendency to fall into two categories with Hotch: completely persistent and overbearing bootlickers that actually defy his orders or moody lone wolves that don't know how to work in a team. You didn't fit into either of those boxes. He couldn't help but align himself with you- as if you were like him. Although what surprised him was that you smiled and laughed in a way that he never did, when you finally were aware of the dynamics of the team, it teased out lightness and ease within you. He'd grown to be fond of your smile, he liked seeing it. Which was odd because when you were with him, your face went hard. Like you were challenging him and his authority.

‘’You're a very talented agent. And an incredibly smart and diligent profiler. You make a very good addition to this team for someone that I haven't worked with for very long but I can't work with people who don't place the same value on paperwork and fieldwork respectively. I'll give you leeway on this occasion but I need you to be good at paper trails as you are on the field.’’

You felt your mouth drop open slightly, like unloose hinges on a door that just got slammed. All the breath was knocked out of your lungs at his not-so-subtle compliment, your ears pricked with heat at the fact that you never heard anything this heartfelt come out of Hotch's mouth, especially regarding you.

‘’Thank you..I-‘’

‘’Please don't blush, the accolade is very much deserved.’’

Hotch was somehow keeping his cool which was a much-needed miracle from the universe. Even though the flush that stained your face somehow made it even more beautiful, he'd like to see that rose pink everywhere else...all over your body. You weren't challenging him now, you were like putty in his hands and it was incredibly jarring to see, but not unwelcome at all. He liked that the one small compliment affected you so, it didn't need to take a profiler to see it clear as day. It was apparent to see that your thoughts were affecting you physically, your thumb was incessantly rubbing the side of your pointer finger- your tell.

‘’I appreciate that Aaron-‘’

‘’-Sir.’’ He reinforced in a thick and heavy voice, correcting the term. You were always supposed to use 'sir' or 'Hotch', you'd never called him Aaron before and your lips curved slightly into a frown

Every time you were getting close to him, he cut you off and built up those walls again. It soured your mood and your brow furrowed again. You got up and leaned in slightly before standing upright.

‘’Sir.’’ You squared your shoulders and readjusted your posture before leaving.

‘’I'll get it finished by tonight.’’ You said huskily, annoyed and frustrated.

What was even odder is that your feet had a mind of their own, the silence was overwhelming you and it felt like you were about to smack your head against a brick wall when you stood outside of his office and knocked.

The tension was taking over you and you needed some form of clarity.

‘’Come in.’’ Hotch stated politely before looking up from his writing and letting go of his pen. You stood there, incredibly confident in your stance and he had to suppress raising an eyebrow.

‘’Y/N. What can I do for you?’’ His voice was low, heady and so damn sexy…almost suggestive.

Just looking at him made electricity shoot through your shoulder blades, his tie was slightly loosened, and his hair was a little more scuffed than usual. Hotch's gaze was scorching, to say the least, it was a complete 360 from the hard discerning eyes he gave you when you were in his office.

‘’Sir, I feel like my work is being compromised.’’ You said very matter-of-factly, arms crossed as you leaned against his door to prove that you mean business, that you were tired of this tap dance with death. Hotch paused to study your statement.

‘’How so?’’

'I'm having trouble handling this tension between you and me.’’ You breathed, finally finding the words that didn't completely reveal how badly you wanted him.

‘’Which kind of tension?’’

‘’You know which one, you're a profiler. Figure it out.’’ You snapped and Aaron was completely taken aback, this was absolutely the kind of attitude that he wouldn't put up with but on this occasion, you seemed desperate and he's never seen you like this before. It wasn't a wake-up call...it was a calling. Hotch just studied your purpose silently- you stood there so sure yet doe-eyed and needy for an answer you had doubts you were going to get from him. He wanted to be honest, so he was.

‘’The kind of tension that makes me want to bend you over my desk and fuck the attitude out of you?’’ Hotch asked you to clarify it for him, just to make you squirm a little more- and like clockwork, you did. He watched your chest swell as you breathed in and out, your eyes widened a little bit but you suppressed it in a second but they were dilating intensely, your brows raised, and your lips parted to let out a sharp breath. The telltale face for shock and arousal. ‘’I don't think you want me to come up with a suggestion on how to help you at all, you've got it all figured out for yourself.’’ Hotch saw right through you, your mind was buzzing with outlines of unfinished plans and outcomes of this entire situation. Right now you could only see one: him fucking you like an animal.

‘’You gonna profile me?’’ Your face was stern but your voice was sweet. Your eyes were begging for him to surprise you and leave you hanging for more.

‘’You want me to?’’ His tone. His voice. It was like pure sex.

‘’Mhm.’’

‘’Come here then.’’ Hotch bit the bullet, he was drunk on this, and he wasn't thinking clearly- but why did it feel like the solution to his problems was becoming clearer and clearer?

Your legs turned to jelly and your knees started buckling in a fit of electric tingles but by some pure miracle, your feet found their way over to Hotch, ending up in front of him behind his desk, eyes locked in a perpetual battle between the tampered down tension and the heady desire

‘’I figured you've outlined a profile of me in your head already.’’ You breathed in an attempt to open up his head for him but like always, he was never revealing his thoughts- he just stared down at you

‘’You pretend you're not nervous around me.’’ He remarked coolly. ‘’You put on a facade that is actually convincing, it's probably an attempt to remain professional but the tension is getting to you, and you hate not having control. What I find interesting though is that you put on this facade but you so shamelessly give me fuck-me eyes when no one else is looking.’’

You remained tight-lipped at his deduction but internally you were losing your mind. ‘’I think I've been pretty good.’’

‘’You are good. But you can't take it anymore.’’ Hotch reaffirmed but then spun it back around on its head.

‘’I can't?’’

‘’You can't. You want me but you don't want to compromise anything, but now the idea of me fucking you is becoming less and less insane.’’ His face was completely serious and your heart was beginning to hammer.

‘’You seem sure of yourself.’’ Who were you kidding? Hotch could see right through you, your confidence was wearing away. He just gave you a small knowing smirk, you liked it when he was flirty (which was the rarest thing on Earth) but then, suddenly, he flipped back to being professional.

‘’So Agent, is there anything else you came to me for?’’. He tilted his head to the side.

He was acting fucking professional- as if you weren't just a few feet away from each other and like the palpable attraction wasn't swinging through the air. You scoffed at his face.

It was late, your inhibitions were fleeing you with every scattered moment. There were so many blips of weakness you were attempting to reign in but you took a deep breath so you didn't crumble under his hard gaze.

‘'I'd like to request a transfer.’’ You blurted without thinking it through. Hotch thought that your face looked defeated.

‘’Transfer? Why?’’ Hotch's brows furrowed and creased at your ask, his lips thinned. He hated the idea of it, but his personal feelings aside, you were an incredible addition to the team- you were bright, insightful, and a necessity. He feels that it would be a big mistake on your part.

But, isn't this right in the long run? This...tension...between you may affect your work in the field. The more you think about it, the less avoidable it becomes.

‘’Or would you prefer a resignation?’’ You joked, your pearly whites peeking through in the light of his office and he thought you looked beautiful under it- though he was slightly irked by your callousness

"Don't give me that.’’ He said curtly and it made your eyes narrow into his; his gaze darkened intensely, and those heady pools of brown were something you could drown in endlessly. You wouldn't mind at all.

‘’Well, I think I've already covered why I want to.’’

Hotch stood silent for a moment.

‘’Come home with me.’’

You hid your shocked face well but your pulse was thundering underneath your increasingly heated skin, you swallowed sharply and your eyes widened a little but still enough for Hotch to catch onto it. Those simple words he uttered made slick form between your thighs already, you couldn't even begin to imagine the physical things he could do to your body to make you feel good.

"Hotch...I-‘’ You breathed, you bit your lip to conceal your bashful expression but the blush and the light dancing in your eyes gave you away. You let out a sharp exhale in a fruitless attempt to attain some sense of dignity but when your gaze met his, you knew he was being perfectly serious and it made you gulp again.

His eyes were eager and you couldn't deny him any longer, even though the idea of him fucking you on his own desk in his own office was something out of a wet dream- you'd settle for some wine at his place. Maybe he could take it as a body shot, the idea made your legs tremble.

The next thing you knew is that his thumb and index finger were hooked under your chin so you could meet the intense stare that you would simply crack under.

‘’Please, baby.’’ Hotch whispered the pet name.

Fuck. That was enough to do you in, enough to make you give into any demand he asked of you. You were actually considering getting on your knees, right here, right now

‘’Okay.’’ Since you agreed, your nervousness seemed to dissipate.

Excited didn't even begin to cover it.

During the car ride back to his place, Hotch had to suppress the urge to let his hands glide over your thighs and clamp onto them. You were wearing a skirt. He could've just easily touched your skin, and let his fingers dance around your panties before slipping them in to see just how wet you really were. But he tampered down the pulsating urge, he kept stealing glances at you. You looked confident now, the woman he's grown to know and work with was here to stay- he'd get that changing in no time. He'd make this whole facade of being a tease shatter beneath your feet, the idea made him smirk and it temporarily occupied his mind while driving. Your air was simply intoxicating to Aaron and it was making him lose his focus on the road.

Neither of you spoke on the way there, and when you both arrived he offered you his hand. Your jaw wanted to fall straight to your feet, fucking Aaron Hothchner, your boss, was offering you his hand for you to hold.

Your tongue glazed over your lips as he lead you to his apartment, mouth salivating with every step. Hotch hadn't felt this strongly about anyone in so long, the tension between you two was just brewing and bubbling and now neither of you had the means to stop it- it was all just waiting to burst into an eruption of passion.

You were both experts in behavior. You both wanted each other, it was clear as fucking day. But you were both stubborn and unmoving. Unrelenting. Perfect.

Hotch opened his door and the ambient lights encompassed the entirety of the apartment, it was nicely furnished and it was apparent that he was a clean freak. It translated from work to home. Hm. Note taken. He closed the door and you both flung your bags into a dark corner, you didn't know what to say or do so you just flirted with him tirelessly.

‘’Wine?’’ Hotch offered, his face brightening just a little. He watched intently as you breathed and leaned in on his kitchen counter, discarding your jacket

"Hm. I drink red.’’ You lied.

‘’No, you don't.’’ His voice was low and gritty but it was evened out with a knowing smirk.

‘’Perceptive.’’ You stated impassively, not trying to indicate that you were affected by the fact he noticed your habits as if it wasn't his job to do so. Hotch poured out white wine for you and fixed himself a bourbon.

You watched and surveyed him with a certain and unmissable fixation. He shrugged off his blazer and started loosening up his tie and undid the first button but he didn't fully take it off. Lord. He was fit as fuck, his broad shoulders...his arms...his fucking hands. You felt so safe with him, it's not like you needed his protection but while you were in his presence, you felt secure and looked out for. The thought made you bite your lip.

Hotch sauntered back over to you with an aura of confidence, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. He stood leaning opposite you after he handed you your glass. The ambient light made his hard features even more chiseled, it was almost romantic.

‘’So, did you want me here to ply me with alcohol just to make me change my mind?’’ You flirted as you took a scarce sip.

‘’No, just wanted you to be mine for a night.’’ He said honestly and it made your thighs clamp together but your expression was still that of smugness

‘’Hm. Since we're being honest now…’’ You started brusquely. ‘’I think I've wanted you to fuck me since I first walked into your office.’’

Hotch raised a discerning brow at you due to such a brash statement, it was unexpected by not surprising. ‘’Well, each of my thoughts about you…have been improper.’’ He said truthfully, his lips curling slightly.

You always seemed to have a knack for disarming him and he'd be a bold-faced liar if he said he didn't enjoy it. But his mind was wandering.

He was distracted with the last case the team took, he was concerned with the idea of you at the center of it- obviously. You partook in the role of pretending to act like the unsub's preferred victim, using the good old tactic of flirtation during the interrogation in which Hotch stood outside looking in through the glass. You hated appealing to this sadistic prick's preferences but you really didn't have a choice, you could practically feel Hotch's glare intensify even when you couldn't see him. He stood outside with Rossi watching in on the interrogation you were conducting.

‘’I don't like her being in the same room as him.’’ Hotch stated tight-lipped and impassive as always.

Rossi just turned his head and regarded him with a knowing look on his face, he scoffed at Aaron.

‘’What?’’ Hotch questioned, his brows furrowing as always

‘'You've been distracted recently, now I know why.’’

Hotch contemplated you in your presence, you were feeling playful and flirty whereas he was focused and hypervigilant. He couldn't help but be...worried about you. Even though the unsub fit the profile indefinitely, the team had no physical proof that warranted his arrest so you had to let him go. You had to stay later than everyone else to fill out the interrogation report at the P.D. After you were finished, you took your SUV and went back to the hotel you were staying at and parked your car. Although you were aware and diligent, you didn't expect to be blitzed from behind as you got out of the car. It was the same guy you took into custody- but thank God you got out of his aggressive hold and shot him in the kneecaps. You were bound to be shaken up and Hotch just wanted to make sure that you were doing okay. He was yanked out of his thoughts and tethered back to reality as your hand shot up to loosen up his tie, just to be closer to him, to feel his air.

‘'Hm- I always liked these-.’m You mumbled playfully, your face inching closer to his. But suddenly, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you even closer to him, his callous apathetic hand gripping your skin. You couldn't help but let out a sigh, your breath sweet like honey on the vine.

You felt exposed when he stared deeply into your alluring eyes, they provoked such a visceral reaction from him, it was making him feel helpless but he was a master of not showing it.

‘’What is it, Hotch?’’ Your free hand went to his should to assert a hold on him, like he you.

‘'The suspect that tried to attack you...I should've stayed and left with you.’’ His voice was confined with regret and a fit of bubbling anger, and his eyes darted away as if he was too ashamed to look at you considering what he could've prevented. His grip on your wrist loosened as you softly grabbed his face to look at you again. ‘’I don't know why I-‘’

‘’Hey, hey. Look at me...’’You breathed. ‘’I appreciate the chivalry of you being worried about me...but I feel safe with you. And I've spent a lot of time wanting you from a distance and I can deal with that during the day...but at night- I can't help but need you.’’

Although you didn't want to admit it, he was right to be worried. With this job danger was a welcome guest, lives are lost and wills are constantly battled and challenged but within that, the danger makes you realize how precious life is, how waiting does more harm than good, and how trusting your gut is key. The danger makes everyone on the team aggressive, especially you and Hotch. You've lost count of how many rows you've gotten into between each other because of this, within that there have been far too many moments where you've been this close to kissing the lips off of him in an argument. He's hot either way but that attitude is something else- and you reveled in it. Hotch examined your tantalizing face that was etched with a certain sincerity he hadn't seen in a long time, he hadn't felt this sort of desire in lightyears. It was a spark he was sure he was missing before you came into his life.

‘’Aaron. Call me Aaron.’’

It's like his eyes were talking, but you didn't know what they were saying.

‘’I'm special now?’’ You mumbled with a determined passivity. His glower was hard and you could practically hear his brain buzzing.

‘’I'm not a toy.’’ He enunciated in that enticing low and heavy tone of his, you were afraid you were going to lose your inhibitions already, he let go of your wrist and gripped your cheeks, jutting your face upwards. ‘’Stop playing with me as if I am.’’

You didn't let him finish his delicious threat, you captured your lips with his in a searing kiss, one that didn't even make you feel guilty for breaking procedure. You were playing God with Hotch and he knew it perfectly well but he had no objections, he'll be so careless to say he'll deal with the repercussions in the morning. He knew after this one taste of you, he had to have you for the night, even if it was just for one singular, holy night. His massive hands flew into your hair, raking through thick strands as your mouth seeks to find his - you tasted like a fiery embrace in the dead of night. Sweet like sandy beaches with that strong sting of a lemon being dripped onto a blood wound. Hotch, in all his serious purpose, reminded you of a stiff drink in general. He tasted like heady bourbon too.

Hotch started getting impatient now, he intertwined his fingers with your as and dragged you to his room. It was like a hot flash and then you were suddenly there, too possessed by your need for him to profile his fucking room. You were too flustered by a dire lust. He unexpectedly, stilled you both by his bed and grabbed you by the jaw, and jutted it upwards, his grip was ironlike.

‘’Take off your clothes.’’Hotch's tone was much different than his actions, it was polite yet dark, calm yet brutal. He was a walking paradox, and you wouldn't mind spending the rest of your days trying to figure him out. His eyes were scorching and burning into yours

‘'I was hoping you would do it.'’ You whispered against his lips, his nails biting into your skin a little more.

He took your tease as a challenge. Aaron's hands meandered slowly to your tight button-down, slowly undoing each button and staring you in the eyes exactly until you peeled it off.

His callous hands reached behind you to tug down the zipper of your skirt and you had to tamper down the urge to just blitz him right but no, you knew he wanted to take his time with this. Drag it out. Make you needy. Make you weak. You just watched him.

‘’You're all I can think about.’’ He whispered against your lips, the admission of honesty was making your heart pound in your chest.

Your hands were definitely not idle in the slightest, they were itching to get his clothes off- you made quick work of shrugging off his blazer and quickly loosened up his tie and got it off of him, but he caught onto the fabric.

‘’No, no. I wanna keep it for later.’’ Hotch mumbled playfully and it was the kind of sound that made your ears prick up.

You didn't speak, you just smirked as you pressed your lips to his again and sunk your teeth into his bottom lip. Hotch didn't let a single moment pass before he gripped you by the waist and flung you onto the bed.

Your mind was racing and dulling to a blur, you were left in only your underwear and bra- thank God you wore a pretty set today, you had no idea what a day this would pan out to be. You. In your boss's bed. Waiting desperately to be fucked by him, you didn't know how it got to this but it did. You weren't complaining but you did have to wonder how any of this came to be, it was straight out of a dream. Too absolved in your own thoughts, you were yanked out of your thoughts when you felt his hands on your skin. He was shirtless And damn him, he had been hiding such a figure for the entirety of this...thing...you had with him. Hotch's palms outlined the frame of your body and your breath was immediately knocked out of you when he nestled between your thighs. Your hands flew to tug on his hair.

‘’You're not playing fair.’’ You moaned drunkenly, his mouth planting chaste kisses on your collarbone- you just wanted him to get you naked underneath him but he was too busy making you squirm.

‘’I never have.’’ he replied cooly. ‘’Shh. Stay still.’’ He taunted huskily, you could practically hear him smile into your skin.

‘’No.’’ You shot back almost immediately, your legs had a mind of their own.

You mustered up the strength, rolled over, and now you were on top instead. Your mouth latched onto his neck and you began suckling and kissing down, you melted at the sound of him breathless. Fuck, that sound was like heaven. Who knew Hotch had the ability to get like this? His eyes flitted shut as he savored your touch, your feel. His hands went to grip your sides and his palms felt at the skin of your hips.

‘’I like you better beneath me, Hotch.’’ You said all honeyed as you bit his earlobe. He really couldn't take your teasing anymore.

His temper began to bubble and he quickly got out of your hold and flipped you so he was on top of you again, his preferred place to stay.

‘’I said call me Aaron, sweetheart. Don't get dumb on me now, we both know you're not.’’

‘’Now you're the one that's acting as if I'm a toy, Aaron.’’ You bit back. ‘’Can't you feel how much I need you?’’ lYou were practicallywhining at him but you knew he didn't care. Hotch pulled his face back from your neck to stare into those lust-clouded eyes.

‘’Then beg for me.’’ He demanded

‘’Get me naked first.’’ You flirted. His face turned hard and his brows furrowed again and he gripped your wrists again and pinned them down on the bed. Your body was heating up and begging to be touched by him again, you felt far too clothed.

Hotch let go and ducked down between the sweet valley of your thighs to shimmy off your underwear, your scent was divine, and he couldn't wait until he had the chance to taste you but right now you were agonizing over him barely touching you- you were possessed with the need of feeling him inside you. Your underwear and bra were now just a mere pile of scraps on his bedroom floor. You reached for his belt and unbuckled it but before you could go any further he grabbed your arm again

‘’No, no. None of that.’’ He reassured with a soft voice.

‘’Beg for me.’’

Hotch trailed his lips down your jaw to stun you into obliging his commands. To his pleasure. it was working like a dream. His kisses were brutal and vour desperation was radiating off of you, the battle of wills was palpable.

"Aaron...’’

‘’I said beg.’’ He warned, the eye contact between you manifesting into a wild and untameable tension that neither of you was willing to bridle.

‘’I want you to take me, don't be gentle...please...just tell me how you want me and make me yours. I've been begging for you all this time, don't make me repeat and parrot back the thoughts I've had for you.’’ You whimpered, goosebumps trailing your skin as his fingertips traced down your stomach and to the place where you needed his attention.

It felt as though Hotch's world had just stopped spinning like it had been tipped off its axis. Your breath was sweet and your eyes were wide and guileless, sparkling with need and lust that only he could satiate. He watched you stiff-eyed and earnestly as his fingers slipped into your heat, teasingly at first but then curling upwards, your moan was unconcealable and broken up.

‘’You'll be my undoing, you know that?’’ He groaned before biting your lip, you whimpered into his mouth. His fingers were feeling at you with an expertise you had never experienced before, they were literally working magic. It was rough and soft at the same time-just like him. They were moving rhythmically, tenderly and then his thumb began sending sparks through your body when he toyed with your clit

‘’Oh God...’’ You couldn't bite back your moans.

‘'Don't scream his name, scream mine. It sounds better, don't you think?’’ He knew you couldn't answer him coherently but you proved him wrong when you grabbed at his belt buckle.

‘’In me...please.’’ It was like you were drunk on him.

Hotch could withstand anything you had on a normal day during work I hours but when he got you begging like this, he just loved your whines but he felt bad for dragging it out- it looked like you were on the verge of crying, tears of pleasure were pricking in your eyes. He had to give into such a polite demand. You didn't even have the time to look down but you felt him, pulsating and huge. He pushed inside of you with no prior warning.

‘’Aaron...I can't take it.’’ You grunted, eyes unable to stray away from his as your nails dug into his broad shoulders.

"Yes, you can. You'll take it.’’

You quite literally had to accommodate to his massive size, he was fucking massive- not that you had any doubts, but the thought has crossed your mind on many occasions and you hated it. Now you were taking it from him.

‘’How do you feel now?’’ He questioned, the back of your head was dug into the pillow, your chin jutted up.

‘’What?’’ You sounded frazzled and it made him want to laugh.

‘’The tension...between us...’’ He panted, his thrusts pumping into you, your bodies colliding violently.

‘’We're not on your desk, are we?’’

Hotch didn't respond, he just sunk his teeth into your jaw and it made you cry out. Your nails were digging into his skin and he was completely absorbed into this outlet, he definitely didn't mind this happening over and over again. Your moans became louder and louder, you couldn't help yourself, he was eliciting all of these reactions out of you. He never pulled his punches and this isn't an exception- he was just so damn skilled, it was all so intricate, like he knew exactly what buttons to push to make you go fucking insane. He was quite the profiler indeed, the thought made you smirk.

‘’I don't know if I can keep going.’’ You whined, brows tenseing enough to make your head pulsate. ‘’Fuck….’’

‘’It's okay...just stay with me. You can do that for me, can't you?’’ He cooed at you and it sent shockwaves down your body, you nodded and poulled him into a searing kiss.

You couldn't say no to him, no matter how hard you tried. The collision was forceful, passionate, completely and utterly tangible through every cell in your body. Hotch could feel you tightening up around him, suffocating his cock perfectly and setting a high dose of adrenaline in his aching veins. You couldn't hold out anymore, it was becoming infuriating. A scream ripped from your throat, broken plea, a frazzled response that you could no longer contain. You reached your high far quicker than you had hoped for but, how could you hold out? It was Aaron fucking Hotchner. Your release felt incredible to the point where your eyes screwed shut, Hotch was entirely pleased to have you in such a state. He wished he could frame that expression and put it on his desk. While he finished, he kissed your lips and then kissed the bridge of your nose up to your forehead. Fuck, this switch up from roughness to tenderness was...nice. For the first time in a long time, you felt wanted. Hotch rolled over and you held onto him, your head perched on his chest.

You both stayed silent for a while. Breathing in and out. Watching the rise and fall of his chest. His arm enveloped you and his fingers began desperately tracing unintelligable patterns on your bare skin.

Breathing in and out.

Eyes fanning shut.

‘’Hm. I like fraternzing.’’ You said softly and you could hear Hotch's subtle chuckle, he was so clearly amused by your blatant rule breaking. Only you would be so callous.

‘’Funny.’’ He replied with a raise eyebrow.

‘’Tension leading to this is so fucking cliche.’’ You groaned, rolling your eyes at the idea but what could you say...you secretly found yourself enjoying it.

‘'How many times have you thought about rugby tackling me during an argument?’’ He smiled, gazing wantonly into the dark catalysts of your eyes when you hung your head up.

‘’Many ...but I wouldn't say rugby tackle. I'd say directly punch in the face.’’

#aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds smut #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #hotch smut #aaron hotch fluff #hotchner x reader

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heich0e · 10 months

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[warning: while f!reader is not described with any specific physical characteristics, the child in this fic is described as having inherited all of Megumi’s attributes and none from reader! please read with that in mind, or pass over this fic if not <3]

Fushiguro Megumi is responsible.

He always has been, from a younger age than he ought to have needed to be. It's engrained in him now, as much a part of him as his own flesh and bone—if something falls within his scope of responsibility, he's always diligent about seeing it through.

Here's the thing about Megumi, though, the thing he doesn't even really know about himself: he's a perfectionist. Because of this, he doesn't like to be responsible for things—at least not things that he can't guarantee will be a success. Things that he knows he can execute perfectly.

But the road to hell is always paved with good intentions. Convictions, no matter how strongly-held, can accidentally falter.

Megumi has never wanted to be a father.

And maybe this all ties back to his unconscious need to do things perfectly. The pathological insistence he feels to do things all by himself, and do them right. He relies on his experience to achieve these things, and looking back on what little experience he has with fathers, he knows it's not enough—not sufficient—to properly prepare him for a similar undertaking.

And he's fine with that.

He's got enough on his hands anyway, first as a student putting himself through veterinary school, and then with the clinic he works at. The elderly vet he studied under, and who owned the clinic, retired just before Megumi turned 30, and having worked together for almost a decade—first as a part timer, then a tech, then an assistant, and finally a partner—the old man gave Megumi the option of buying the business and taking it on.

Always thought of ya like a son, the old man had said to him one evening after closing, having dragged Megumi to the izakaya down the road to get a drink. Megumi doesn't even really like drinking very much, especially when he was due back at the clinic at dawn, but he indulged the old man who ended up ruddy cheeked and tipsy about as quickly as Megumi expected, given past experience. The conversation had taken him by surprise when his mentor had announced his retirement. 'S only right I pass it on to you, if ya want it.

The offer made something uncomfortable squirm in Megumi's gut. His fear of change rearing its ugly head. His doubt that he was ready to take on such a huge responsibility. The uncomfortably foreignness of being called someone's son.

Just think about it, the old man slurred, immediately picking up on Megumi's hesitation. Yer still a young fella, Megumi, but ya won't be ferever. Gotta start thinkin' about yer future 'ventually. Settlin' down, findin' yourself a pretty girl, babies.

Ah, the future. Yet another thing Megumi hates, in all its unknowable infamy.

Megumi eventually helped the elderly vet into a taxi to get home, and then went back inside the izakaya to drown his sorrows—early shift be damned. His head was a mess, full of a terrible spiral of thoughts about his future that now looked so uncertain, and while the beer he was drinking certainly didn't help him make sense of them, he hoped, however briefly, it might help him to forget.

When Megumi woke the next morning to the alarm blaring from his cellphone, he had a splitting headache thanks to the beer and he was sleeping in the narrow entryway to his apartment with all his clothes (and his shoes) still on. But even in spite of all of that, and the smell of soap clinging to him that he didn't recognize, he felt lighter, somehow—surer about things.

The old man signed the business over to him a month later.

It's been four years since then, and while it hasn't been easy, Megumi's been taking responsibility just like he always has. He does what needs to be done to keep the lights on. He treats his staff well. He takes care of any animals that come through the clinic's door—no matter how dire, no matter how far gone, no matter how they get there.

Yuuji in particular takes advantage of this good nature—showing up frequently, sometimes even after all the other staff has gone home, with some woeful little creature he'd encountered. Sometimes it's a stray cat he'd been called at the fire station to help out of a tree, sometimes it's a dog that he'd found in the road on his drive home from work, or a little bird on the sidewalk. And he gives Megumi the same desperate look every time, the same beseeching eyes, and Megumi curses the fact that the two of them are the same when it comes to this particular responsibility—before letting him inside to examine the new patient.

It's pouring down rain one night, and Megumi has just sent everyone home for the day with a word of thanks for their hard work, when he thinks this very situation is about to repeat itself when he hears a frantic thump! thump! thump! against the glass of the clinic door. Megumi, in his office, pinches the bridge of his nose. He'd even turned the lights out in the lobby so that he could pretend he wasn't there. He knew Yuuji was on his way home from work based on the animated sticker he'd just sent him via text, before offering to pick up some beer and come over, but he hadn't replied—and certainly hadn't expected him to make it to the clinic so quickly.

Megumi sighs, pushing himself up from his desk and padding out in his slippers to the front of the clinic. It's dark out, and hard to see with no lights on in the lobby, but there's a little figure standing outside the rain-covered glass of the door. They appear to be trembling. Megumi pauses, confused, before fiddling with the lock and reaching over to flip on the light beside the door.

What he sees when the door slides open makes him freeze.

Before him is a little boy, no more than four or five, soaked through with rain and shivering in the cold. He has teary green eyes, black hair that's weighed down by the rain, and round, rosy cheeks. Megumi feels sick when he looks at him.

A mirror image of himself.

The man is so frightened that he doesn't even say anything, just stares in horror at the little boy trembling outside the door. Megumi's never heard of a ghost story like this, those were always Yuuji's thing, but that must be what this is. Some kind of spectral being who's shown up to—

A little hand reaches out and tugs on his pant leg.

"Please help me," the little boy says, his voice weak and thick with tears. "Mr. Vet, I need your help."

Megumi watches with wide eyes as the little boy opens his raincoat, revealing a small mass of fur tucked against his chest. A rabbit, Megumi surmises quickly, once he sees the ear; a bunny in fact, when taking into consideration its size. Megumi can't even tell if it's alive because the animal is so terribly still where it's cradled to the boys heart.

He feels another insistent tug at his pant leg, the boy's hand still firmly clutching it. He looks at the child, who seems more determined now, his tears still present but his gaze a little more resolute.

"So, can you help me?"

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #jjk drabble #jjk writing #writing #mini megumi #tw parenthood #tw pregnancy

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fandomxpreferences · 11 months

Text

Fair Game

Masterlist

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Kook!Reader, Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader

TW:18+, cheating, dysfunctional relationship,alcohol consumption, mentions of weed, smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, praise kink, spanking

Summary: JJ sets his sight on something that isn't his.

Word Count:4.8k

JJ watches you intently over the rim of his red solo cup, the plastic crushed between his fingers so hard it's seconds away from busting. You're hanging off of Rafe's arm as he ignores your attempts to garner his attention, too caught up in his shitty conversation with his even shittier friends.

You're entirely too pretty in your sundress that sits just below the curve of your ass to be asking for an ounce of affection. The world should be falling at your feet, and JJ wonders if you know the power you could hold if you decided you want it.

You're all soft glowing skin and sun-bleached hair, the type of ethereal beauty that isn't of this world. Your effervescent personality radiates wherever you go, and he's seen guys fall under your trance on more than one occasion without you even noticing the effect you have.

JJ isn't sure of a lot of things in life, but the one fact he's absolutely certain of is that Rafe Cameron doesn't deserve you. He doesn't cherish you the way he should, or kiss the ground you walk on, grateful to even be in your presence. JJ would.

He doesn't have a lot going for him in terms of money, but he damn sure knows how to treat a lady. JJ swears, hand to God, that you belong in a museum. Though, on the flip side, he doesn't like the idea of anyone else getting to observe you the way he does.

He stares with steely blue eyes and rigid muscles as you resign to your fate, folding into yourself when you realize you're just a background character in your boyfriend's life tonight. You're too nice, borderline angelic, as you keep up the persona of a doting girlfriend.

Though, JJ has been laser-focused on you for the majority of the evening and doesn't miss the way your smile falters for half a second or the way the light in your eyes dims. He hates it. JJ could treat you better, he knows that as much as he knows the ocean will be waiting for him in the morning.

He wonders if your lips taste as sweet as they look or if you still use that coconut coffee lotion that he got a whiff of one day that hasn't left his mind since. He doesn't understand just what you see in the kook king if he's being honest.

He figures it must be your habit of forgiving too fast, always wanting to see the best in people even when there's nothing good to begin with. He's convinced that Rafe doesn't buy you flowers or open doors for you, both things he would do religiously if given the opportunity.

He doesn't think that Rafe takes his time with you, worshipping you like a priceless artifact the way you deserve. Oh, but JJ would. He'd kiss every inch of your body, and spend hours drowning you in love and affection until you're sure you're swimming in a sea of it.

He isn't usually one to be enamored, especially with a kook. He also wouldn't consider himself the type to steal another man's girlfriend, but the way the moonlight is bouncing off your face makes him think maybe he doesn't know himself at all.

His eyes stay glued to your figure as Rafe whispers something in your ear, jealousy rearing its ugly head. That should be him sending a shiver up your spine and getting drunk off the scent of your shampoo.

He briefly tries to think of a game plan to get you alone, if only for a minute, when fate hands him his wish on a silver platter. You're moving toward the keg now, no doubt acting as Rafe's personal bartender.

His feet carry him forward with purpose, any logical thought erased from his mind the closer he gets to you. He swears you must be a siren, emitting some sort of magnetic pull that he couldn't resist even if he tried.

"Hey. Y/N, right?"

He feigns mild ignorance, not wanting to come on too strong. He knows your name; it's engraved on his heart in a pretty script that matches your handwriting.

You turn around, bright smile growing wider upon seeing him. It's always present, a permanent staple of your personality just the same as your bubbly laugh and kind heart. He speculates that your parents never taught you about stranger danger as his own grin split his features, signature dimples popping out on either side.

"Hey, JJ!"

His heart skips a beat upon hearing you say his name, your saccharine voice floating to his ears like a summer symphony. It skips again when it registers that you know who he is, and he thinks this might be what kills him. What a blissful way to go.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing over here all alone?"

His eyes light up at the way a blush stains your cheeks, your hand coming up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"Oh, I'm just getting Rafe another drink."

He nods his head and lets out a disappointed 'ah', pretending like he didn't already know your answer.

"He let you wander off all on your own? Some boyfriend."

He knows the comment is out of pocket, and does his best to make it sound playful even though a clear tone of disdain slips through. You chuckle lightly and raise your eyebrows for a second, and he feels the tides start to turn.

You don't jump to Rafe's defense the way he's heard before in passing. In fact, you almost seem to agree with the sentiment.

"Whatcha drinking? You look thirsty."

He doesn't even know what that means. How does someone look thirsty? It's better than what he wants to say though which is 'You look like someone I could love for the rest of my life and then some.'

"Just water. I can't really drink."

Your eyes are cast toward the ground as you answer his question, and his eyebrows furrow. Now, JJ has seen you out drink frat boys before so he knows that's not the truth. Not the whole truth, at least. You used to be the first one to grab a drink and the last one to turn down a keg stand.

Now that he thinks about it, you used to do a lot of things that you don't anymore. You used to be louder, more adventurous with the mouth of a sailor despite looking innocent as a nun. He hasn't been able to focus on anything but the idea of what you'd look like tucked into his side, and it's hitting him like a train how much you've changed.

You're more reserved, timid almost. Always perfectly put together with styled curls and flawless makeup.

"Can't or aren't allowed to?"

The words leave his mouth before he can stop himself, rage flooding his system as he puts the pieces together. Rafe doesn't love you; not for who you are. He loves the way you boost his image, a perfect prospect to be his future trophy wife.

"It's not that I'm not allowed,"

Your eyebrows pinch together and JJ has to stuff his hand in his pocket to resist the urge to smooth over the creases with his thumb.

"Rafe just usually gets too drunk and causes problems. It's easier if I'm sober."

JJ tsks, displeased with your excuse, and takes a daring step forward.

"You know, we're playing a life or death game. No one makes it out of this alive, so you might as well make the most of your time."

He extends his cup to you, a sparkle in his irises as he beckons you to take a risk. You mull over his words for a moment, turning to look at Rafe. He hasn't even noticed you're gone, and some days you wonder whether he'd know if you stopped showing up altogether.

JJ tilts the cup forward, a mischievous smile on his lips when he sees you considering the idea. He laughs victoriously when you take the cup and bring it to your lips, chugging the contents with ease. You don't even grimace at the strong liquor, holding it out to him and nodding.

"Bottoms up."

He takes the hint, leading you to the side where his private stash is hidden in a bush. Your head whips around when you hear loud laughter, and JJ follows your line of sight to the beer bong table.

"Wanna play?"

You smile once again, your eyes lighting up at the idea.

"Fuck yeah."

He cheers you on, giving you high fives and sideways hugs each time you sink a ball, completely obliterating the other team. Not to his surprise, Rafe doesn't come looking for you once.

On the contrary, he seems preoccupied. JJ's stomach sinks when he sees Rafe sitting by the bonfire with another woman curled up in his lap, her hand trailing dangerously close to his belt. You're well past intoxicated at this point, most of your body weight leaning on JJ for support.

You don't seem to miss your boyfriend at all, or even realize he exists, and this sparks his interest. He's been so focused on the fact that Rafe doesn't seem to care for you, that he hasn't even stopped to think that maybe you don't care for him either.

"Don't wanna."

JJ's head tilts down to look at you, confusion evident in his ocean eyes as you slur into his shoulder.

"Don't wanna what, cupcake?"

Your movements are sloppy as you shift your head to peer up at him through glassy eyes and long lashes, and JJ's hold on you tightens.

"Dont wanna go home with him."

His eyes rake over your features for a second, trying to figure out if these are just drunken words or sober thoughts. He can't help his curiosity, his free hand coming up to smooth out your messy hair.

"Why not?"

You huff dramatically, eyes rolling so hard JJs sure you can see the back of your skull.

"S'no fun. You're fun. And pretty."

You grin as your eyes flutter closed, and JJ chuckles.

"You think I'm pretty?"

Your eyes suddenly shoot open and you stand up straight, albeit on wobbly legs.

"Have you seen yourself? You have these lil' dimples and fluffy blonde hair and a cute laugh. Don't even get me started on how good you smell."

Your fingers poke his cheek and ruffle his hair as you say it, and he barely contains a groan at the feeling of you tugging on the strands.

"If you don't wanna go with him, I'll take you wherever you ask me to."

You perk up at this and take his face between your hands in a way that squishes his cheeks and makes his heart pound.

"Your place!"

His eyes widen slightly as he tries to shake his head, a giggle falling from your lips when his hair tickles your hand.

"I don't know, cupcake. You're really plastered and-"

You cut him off, doing your best to look stern although it doesn't quite work.

"Please? I'll be good, I promise. Just wanna sleep."

He mulls over the idea for a second before lacing his fingers with yours and pulling you toward the parking lot. You squeal in glee, paying no mind to your boyfriend that looks seconds away from fucking a stranger.

It breaks JJ's heart, the fact that this is nothing new glaringly obvious to him. He briefly wonders if you would have even gone home with Rafe, or if the asshole would have left you to find your own way back. Find a way, you did.

Any guilt he had before is destroyed, and he sets you on his bike before placing his helmet on your head and climbing on. You wrap your arms around his torso instantly, heat radiating off your form as you mold your body to his.

"Don't let go, okay?"

He feels you shake your head and nuzzle in further, your arms tightening in the process.

"Never."

Wind whips around you as JJ speeds toward the chateau, your body naturally leaning with his when he takes a turn. The coolness that comes with the blanket of night raises goosebumps on your bare arms and he brings a hand down to hold your trembling fingers.

"Almost there." He promises, and you squeeze his hand in acknowledgment.

True to his word, it's only a couple more minutes before he comes to a stop and helps you steady yourself in the grass.

You follow him silently as he leads you up to the porch, your feet stumbling a bit as you try to climb the steps with airy giggles.

His hands never leave your waist, ensuring you don't face plant while he guides you toward the spare bedroom.

You take in the space through blurry vision; posters plastered to the walls and various t-shirts scattered about. It smells of old spice and weed, a scent you've come to associate with the surfer in the past few hours.

It's wildly different from Rafes pristine and minimally decorated room that always makes you uneasy. Nothing about it feels warm or safe, you're always terrified to leave a stain or bump something out of place.

Standing here now you're immediately engulfed in comfort, and you can't help the feeling of being home.

JJ watches as you strip off your dress, trying and failing to avert his eyes from the bare skin now in front of him, as he argues with himself that he's not seeing any more than he does when you wear a bikini.

His gaze follows you while you float around his makeshift room, your small hand gripping one of his t-shirts. You slip it over your head like you've done it a thousand times before, closing your eyes to inhale the lingering fragrance of JJ.

He's engulfed you in every way except physically now as you curl up under his comforter, a blissful smile on your features.

JJ is frozen in place, trying to process this entire night. Somehow, he's ended up with you in his bed in the most domestic way possible and his mind can't quite make sense of it. It seems so foreign yet so natural at the same time, something in his chest screaming that this is how it should have always been.

His lust turns to adoration when you nuzzle into his pillow, butterflies trying to claw out of his stomach as he notices you seem to feel the same way. You look at peace with your hair fanned around your head like a halo and hands tucked up under your chin to hold the blanket close.

He fights every cell in his body as he turns around to let you sleep, but stops when your tired voice rings out.

"Where are you going?"

You sound so angelic with a soft tone that makes his heart melt, a tinge of sadness lying under the surface.

"I just assumed-" He cuts himself off, turning to the side just enough to meet your gaze.

You look so small and innocent, big doe eyes silently pleading for him not to leave. He knows it's a bad idea; you'll probably kick him in the dick as soon as you wake up sober and realize who you're laying next to.

Despite that fear, he craves your tender touch and glances between you and the door as war wages in his head.

"Stay with me. Please?" You whisper, and his eyelids flutter closed.

Who is he to deny you? He's been willing to burn the world down and dance in the embers just to see you smile ever since he first laid eyes on you, so how is he supposed to turn down such a simple request?

He hesitates for only a moment just to avoid seeming too eager before joining you in the safety of his bed. Something about you calls out to him, and his body overrides any objections his mind may have made.

Rafe is long forgotten as you snuggle into JJ, his muscular arms finding purchase around your waist. You hum in contentment, your mind cloudy from the alcohol but still coherent enough to understand where you are and who you're with.

You fall into a deep slumber almost instantly, the warmth radiating off his body acting as a sedative. He follows suit, drifting off against his will. He already feels like he's in a dream, and he dreads the fact that he'll probably wake up to an empty bed.

His worries are erased when he's awoken by sun rays beaming through the broken blinds to find you still cuddled into him. Your legs have tangled through the night, bringing the two of you impossibly closer as he can't tell where he ends and you begin.

He just lays there in silence, basking in the beauty of your morning hair and soft snores. It doesn't take long for you to stir, and his heart rate spikes so quickly that he thinks he may have a heart attack.

"G'morning." You mumble, and he stays quiet not wanting to pop the bubble of paradise the two of you are in. It's not until you press a lingering kiss to his arm that he finally speaks up, unaware if you know it's him your lips are touching.

"Morning."

He feels you grin against his skin as you register his deep voice, still thick with sleep. Every second that passes feels like a bomb waiting to be detonated, ticking toward the inevitable moment that you rouse from your sleepiness enough to put the pieces together.

The other shoe never drops though, and you turn around to bury your face into his bare chest. He stiffens for a second before relaxing into you and looks down when he feels you tilt your face up to peer at him.

The confusion and anger that he was expecting are nowhere to be seen, tranquility swimming in the eyes he thought would hold fire.

"Sleep well?" You whisper, and he nods slowly; unsure if he ever actually woke up.

"Best sleep I've ever gotten."

You hum in acknowledgment, and he nearly combusts right then and there.

"Me too."

This gives him a little more confidence, the idea that you slept better with him than Rafe going straight to his head. His heart pounds in his ears, and he's sure that you can see it trying to break out of his chest like a cartoon.

"I hate to be the one to bring it up, but won't Rafe be wondering where you are?"

The words taste like acid on his tongue, and he wishes he could take them back the second they hang in the air. You let out a long sigh and prop up on your elbow to see him better.

"He's most likely waking up with his flavor of the night in a far more compromising position than this, so honestly? Probably not."

The casualty with which you say it makes JJ's stomach plummet, an air of familiarity around the statement. He doesn't press for more details, sure that it's not something you want to talk about.

"He's a fucking idiot."

He says it before he can think better of it, and is relieved when you bark out a short laugh.

"Yeah, he is."

JJ's brows pull together as he analyzes your expression, trying to decipher what's going on in your head.

"So why are you with him?"

He knows it's none of his business, but the way you seem so open compels him to ask anyway. You flop back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling, placing both hands on your stomach before turning your head to the side to look at him.

"I don't know. It just kept going on, and the longer we were together the harder it seemed to leave."

Your use of past tense catches his attention and he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Were together?"

It's only two words, yet you know exactly what he's asking.

"No way he wants anything to do with me after this. He's allowed to fuck who he wants, I'm not." You scoff. "It's kind of just the way of the kooks. There's the prim and proper trophy wife and then the side pieces that actually hold his attention. It's fucked, but it seems to work for most of them."

JJ crinkles his nose at the idea, disgusted that anyone could see you as anything other than the catch you are.

"What about you? Would you be happy with a life like that?"

You purse your lips for a moment, digesting his question before shaking your head.

"No. I'd rather be broke and in love than miserable and cushy." You answer honestly, and JJ smiles.

"Stay with me." He almost begs, any shame demolished by the mere idea of getting to hold you every night.

Your eyebrows shoot up at his forwardness, and you run a finger down his jaw while leaning in closer.

"You think you could treat me better?" You tease, but JJ's face is stoic as he replies.

"I know I could."

This elicits a real smile, the one that causes your eyes to crinkle in the corners in a way he hasn't witnessed since you started your tumultuous relationship.

"Convince me."

There's a sultriness to your voice that causes his brain to go haywire, and he glances at your lips in a silent request for permission. You answer by closing the gap between your mouths, kissing him slow and soft.

It doesn't say that way for long, quickly turning into clashing teeth and battling tongues as he takes dominance over you.

"God, you taste even better than I imagined." He sighs, licking his lips as he tastes the cherry lipgloss that somehow still stains your lips.

You moan into him when he shifts on top of you, your mouth falling open when he trails his lips down your jaw before sucking at the pulse point beneath your ear.

"Is this okay?" He stops for a moment to check in, and your only response is pressing his face back into your neck while he smirks.

You relish in the way he feels against you, the oversized t-shirt giving him easy access to where you crave him most.

He pushes your panties aside and dips a ringed finger between your folds, groaning when he feels how wet you are already.

"All this for me?" He rasps, and you nod quickly.

"I'm the luckiest motherfucker to ever walk the earth."

Your lip quirks up at his statement, your body burning hot under his gaze. You've never felt so desired, and it causes you to drip onto the sheets.

He makes quick work of your clothes, stripping you down so you're sprawled out beneath him fully nude. Under different circumstances, nerves would cause you to try and cover yourself up. You don't even consider the idea as JJ stares at you like you're a rare piece of artwork the world has never seen.

He thinks he must have died and gone to heaven as he takes in the expanse of silky flesh that's at his disposal. There's so much he wants to do, but he starts with exploring every inch of unmarked territory.

"You smell so fucking good. So soft and breathtaking."

You're a blubbering mess of moans and gasps as his lips attack anywhere they can reach, sucking amethyst bruises into your skin.

"You're so god damn stunning. The prettiest thing I've ever seen. Look at you panting and shivering when I've barely even done anything." He keens, and you arch your back to press into him.

"Patience, baby. I want to take my time with you."

You start to whine but are cut off by a moan when his lips attach to your nipple. He's slow and deliberate as he nibbles and laps at the perked mound before giving your other the same attention.

By the time he kisses down your stomach and sits in front of your heat, you're begging for some kind of relief.

"Please, JJ." You whimper, and he looks up at you with lust-blown pupils.

"God, my name sounds like the prettiest song coming from those sinful lips."

You don't have a chance to respond before his mouth wraps around your clit, and you cry out when he plunges two thick fingers into your slick. He curls his digits in the most delicious way, finding that sweet spot that sends fire down your nerves with ease.

He doesn't waste any more time teasing, aware of how desperate you are for your release. He moans into you when your walls clamp down, the vibrations nearly sending you hurtling over the edge into blinding pleasure.

He takes you in, mesmerized by the way your body glistens with a thin sheet of sweat and writhes against him. You're bucking into his face, chasing that sweet end, and his other hand rubs at his painfully hard cock through his sweatpants.

"Come for me. Let me have it all. I wanna memorize how you sound and taste." He groans, and he continues his movements as your body spasms. He lets you ride out your high and drags his tongue across you in broad stripes before moving back up to your face.

You accept his tongue eagerly, letting him explore your mouth before licking your arousal off his chin.

"Taste how sweet you are, angel?" He pants, and you nod before reattaching your lips to his.

He moves to grab a condom out of the nightstand, and you stop him to suck on his fingers.

"I'm on birth control." You assure him, and the last of his restraint disintegrates.

He rips his sweats and boxers off in one motion before positioning himself at your entrance.

"I need you now. I don't think I can make this slow and sweet." He growls, and the way you blink up at him nearly makes him bust instantly.

"Fuck me, JJ."

That's all the instruction he needs, and you release a strangled gasp when he thrusts into you. His hips clash against yours as he bottoms out, and he uses the last of his willpower to give you a moment to adjust.

You grind against him subconsciously, and he sets a brutal pace. The bed creaks as it slams against the wall, the rhythmic thumping combining with your sweet sounds to create an intoxicating melody.

He props one elbow beside your head while his other hand grabs your wrists and pins them above you. Your brain goes completely blank except for the feeling of his cock pistoning into you and the way his face contorts in pleasure.

His furrowed brows and gaping mouth bring you closer to that second release, and his head drops onto your chest when you clench around him.

"How the fuck are you so tight? God, you're gonna kill me." He strains, and your eyes roll back in your head.

He's quick to flip you onto your stomach, large hands bringing your hips to be level with his as he slides back into you. Your face presses into the bed as your fists claw at the sheets, your back arched so sharply that it brings a delightful mix of pain and pleasure.

The sound of shrill moans and strangled grunts bounce off the walls, surely alerting anyone else in the house of what's taking place but you don't care. The feeling of him inside of you combined with his bruising grip is enough to drive you mad, and it makes you delirious in the best way.

"You're taking me so fucking well. Like this pussy was made for me."

You whimper at the lewd praise and his hand comes down on your ass in a sharp slap as your thighs quiver.

"You gonna be a good girl and come on my cock, baby? Soak me and these sheets? Come on, make a mess. Make me proud."

Stars erupt behind your eyelids as white-hot pleasure surges through every square inch of your body, your muscles contracting as your second orgasm rips through you violently. You feel JJ become more erratic behind you, a broken moan tearing from his lips as he coats your walls with hot ribbons of cum.

He slowly comes to a stop, both of you disheveled with tangled hair and flushed skin as you try to catch your breath. You collapse as soon as he relinquishes his hold, and he gently pulls you into his chest and hikes your leg over his waist while you wait for the feeling to come back to your limbs.

"Holy shit." You mutter, and he chuckles before nodding in agreement.

"Was that enough to persuade you?" He jests, and you give him a lazy fucked out smile while he rubs his thumb along your thigh absentmindedly.

"Hm, I don't know. Might take a little more to really seal the deal."

JJ licks a stripe along your cheek playfully as you giggle before dropping his mouth to your ear.

"That's just the beginning."

@genius2050

#jj maybank imagine #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic #jj maybank #jj maybank outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks smut #outer banks fic #outer banks #obx imagine #obx smut

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princessbrunette · 2 months

Note

imagine jayj's panic rambling about some stupid lead john b wants to chase next, pacing the floors n practically given you a headache cos he literally hasn't breathed in the last five minutes so you just drop to your knees in front of him to get him quiet - 🍓

🩰𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨୧

you could never quite follow with all the pogue adventure stuff. it was alot, and each day brought new details and side quests and it was difficult to keep up with. you knew that if it was a lot for you, it had to be a lot on your boyfriend jj — which became more and more clear as he paced your girly bedroom, repeatedly yanking his hat off to run a stressed hand through his hair.

“and you know me i don’t like to wait — we’re wastin’ valuable precious time that could be spent walkin’ right in there, sticking a gun in their mouth n’ waiting for them to squawk, but no — nah of course john b wants to do the freakin’ logical thing and regroup tomorrow. tomorrow, babe— these dudes are gonna be half way across the ocean by tomorrow, bon appetit— never to be seen again!”

“do you mean bon voyage?” you furrow your eyebrows, swinging your legs as you listen along, sat on your vanity watching the blonde pace your room. he’d only been in your house for a matter of ten minutes, and you weren’t sure he’d taken a second to breathe since he had arrived — ranting furiously about the day of pogue drama and adventure.

“look— whatever, okay— the point is, no one’s listening to me, n’i get it, right? jj’s the crazy one, jj’s always gettin’ himself into trouble— but you know why that is? it’s because i take action.” he pummels his fist into his hand with emphasis. “i’m not gonna just sit here and let these guys get away with this shit, you know?”

he finally looks at you, like expecting an answer and you take the opportunity— hopping off the vanity to step towards him. “i know it’s frustrating, jayj — but there’s nothing you can do right now. everyone’s safety including yours should be the main priority.” you pout. you know he didn’t wanna be lectured by you on being safe, especially not right now but you couldn’t help offer your opinion. plus, as selfish as it sounded you kind of wanted him to drop the whole thing now. it was pointless, really.

“i know — okay? i know. i’m sorry i’m… yeah, i’m just stressed the fuck out. you know how i get. i just kinda find it funny how he— wh… what you doin’ there?” he’s paused in his tracks when you’re suddenly infront of him, nodding intently along with what he’s saying as your fingers pop open the button on his shorts.

you have the audacity to look confused by his question, tilting your head like a sweet lost puppy. “…helping? said you were stressed, jayj?” you furrow your brows, manicured fingers slowly dragging his zipper down before you sink to your knees, looking up at him expectedly.

“you— uh, you were gonna…? right here?” he blinks, his anatomy betraying him as his cock jumps in his pants in muscle memory of you being on your knees. you nod happily, leaning forward with a polite smile, pressing a kiss to his bulge through his pants.

“wanna help.” you muse happily, almost cheerfully and he swallows, taking his hat off for the last time and tossing it onto your bed.

“hey, don’t let me stop you sugar. just… surprised. god damn.” he runs a hand through his hair, the frustration already starting to seep out of his body. you take this as the green light to start massaging his length through the fabric, giggling giddily as you ready him for your mouth.

“just relax now, jj. lemme make it better.”

🩰𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨୧

#🍓 anon #jj maybank prompt

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callme-holly · 1 month

Note

Johnny Cade x Reader where they get into a little argument but they solve it all out at the end:)

'𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞' [𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 '𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭']

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - This isn't perfect and I'm so sorry. I'm trying to be better with my uploading but I've got some much to do lmaooo. Anyways, as always, hope ya'll enjoy!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 1.1k words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mild swearing !!

When you enter the Curtis home, the first thing you notice is Johnny curled up on the couch, knees tucked to his chest, his eyes dull and sad. His skin is noticeably paler than usual, his face is a patchwork of bruises and cuts, and he looks as if he hasn't slept for a while.

He hardly reacts as you make your way around to the front of the couch, but it's clear from the way his eyes follow your movements that his attention has sharpened and that he’s acutely aware of your presence. You reach out a tentative hand with full intentions of running your fingers through his hair, only to see him tense and flinch at the movement. You withdraw almost instantly, freezing for a moment before lowering yourself onto the armrest beside him.

“Johnny, is everything okay?” Your voice is quiet, almost as if you were addressing a wounded animal, which isn't very far off the truth when it comes to Johnny Cade. He's like a little puppy that has been kicked too many times; jumpy and skittish and so desperately broken down inside that sometimes you wonder how he can keep himself together at all.

“Johnny?” You ask again, trying to get his attention this time.

What?” He mutters, his head still buried beneath his arms. He sounds exhausted; every syllable is a struggle. “What’d ya want?”

You hesitate for a moment, not entirely sure how to proceed. It’s clear he’s not too keen on the idea of talking to you, but if you don’t ask him soon, you might lose whatever chance you have of getting answers out of him altogether. “Is everything okay?” You try once more, and Johnny huffs out a breath, sounding even more defeated than before.

“Fine,” He grits out between clenched teeth. “Everything's fine. Just go.” He lifts his head enough to glare at you, his expression unreadable underneath the dark bags covering his eyes. You fight the urge to brush the stray strands back from his face, because there's something about the look in his eyes that makes your stomach twist uncomfortably. But instead, you move from your spot on the arm rest to kneel by his head, your hand hovering on his shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You reply calmly, not wanting to push him too hard. “Not until you talk to me. I need you to tell me what happened.”

Johnny lets out a strangled sound, a sort of choked groan, and rolls over onto his side, away from you. “It doesn't matter.” He mumbles the words so quietly that they're almost lost in the air around you. “Just leave.” There's an edge to his voice; the tautness in his muscles is giving away his growing frustration. He tries to hide it, but it bleeds out anyway, and he finally snaps when you make no move to go.

He raises his head abruptly, pushing his weight into a sitting position before swinging his legs over the other side of the couch so that he’s facing you directly. “God, just stop! Stop treatin’ me like a baby all the damn time! I don’t need your help!” The outburst surprises you, and you blink at him in astonishment, watching with wide eyes as his face twists up in a grimace as though he could barely hold himself together anymore. It hurts to watch; you can feel your own emotions begin to twist in sympathy for him, and despite knowing better, you find yourself reaching towards him instinctively.

Before you can touch him, however, he jerks away as if burned. “Stop!” He cries hoarsely, his voice breaking with emotion. “Just get out of here and leave me alone!”

You sit frozen on the edge of the couch and let out a slow, shuddering sigh. “What is your issue?” You bite the words out between clenched teeth. “Why won't you let me help?”

You know that you should probably leave now before things escalate further, but you're also not quite ready to give up and just leave things be. Instead, you force yourself to stay where you are, your eyes fixed on Johnny as the tears well up in his eyes.

His lips part to respond, but he doesn't say anything; he just swallows hard and averts his gaze. “Go,” he repeats hoarsely after a moment's hesitation, his voice thick and strained. A tear slides slowly down his cheek as he speaks. He swipes it away angrily. “Just… Go home. I don't need ya.”

Your anger fades. The sudden burst of hostility washes away the last of your patience, leaving you feeling drained and hollow.

“That’s bullshit, Johnny Cade.” Your voice is soft, but it carries conviction. “You don’t mean that.”

The words hang heavy between you for a moment before Johnny's shoulders slump, defeated. He turns away from you, pressing his hands against his temples and squeezing his eyes shut tight. You watch silently as he takes several shaky breaths, fighting back tears.

Johnny doesn’t cry often; you know that much, so to see him now reduced to such a pitiable mess breaks your heart.

Slowly and carefully, you reach for him one final time, placing a hand lightly on his back. He tenses again, and you retract your touch immediately, unsure of what to do. “Hey,” you say softly. “Johnny, talk to me.” You pause, swallowing heavily. “Please.”

He shakes his head, the motion jerky and violent. You can hear his shallow breathing, which is ragged and painful, as he tries to stifle his sobbing. His body shudders slightly, and you have to suppress the impulse to pull him into your arms, to cradle his head gently between your palms, and to rub his back soothingly.

“I'm sorry…” He chokes out eventually, turning back to you with red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes. “I didn't want to shout at you... But I just…” He lets out a breath, struggling visibly to regain some kind of composure. “Can we talk about this later?”

You consider for a second, then nod. “Okay, if that’s what you really want to do.”

Johnny nods shortly, seeming to settle a little. He swipes at his cheeks roughly, scrubbing his hands harshly across his face to wipe away any evidence of tears or lingering distress.

When he finally speaks, his voice is steadier, although his tone remains subdued, bordering on weary. “Can you just hold me for a bit?” He asks, avoiding your gaze as his cheeks flush red again, embarrassment making him unable to meet your gaze. “I know I yelled, but...” He trails off, and you nod, rising to your feet wordlessly to settle down beside him, allowing him to lay his head in your lap and resume his curled-up position.

“Thanks.” He mumbles, words muffled into your leg. You run your fingers through his hair, smiling faintly when he nuzzles into your touch, clearly appreciative of the gesture.

“Anytime.” You whisper back, and, in that moment, amidst the turmoil, you knew one thing for certain: you weren't leaving him alone, not now, not ever.

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

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