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phenikas · 1 year

Text

Rhack Week 2023 | Day 5 - Night Out

Words: 1623

Warnings: Mentions of depression and death "mild" alcohol consumption, very vague descriptions of sexual stuff (it's as vague as it can be, although still not recommended for minors)

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Blinding neon lights, music that drowns out every bleak thought, and most importantly- a never-ending tab at one of Meridian's hottest clubs- The Supernova.

Jack had never been one to dislike such distractions, especially when he needed to get his mind off work. But being a floating hologram stuck with a depressed CEO of a multimillion-dollar weapons giant meant that he had no work. His only source of entertainment was watching Rhys eat, sleep, work, and drink himself away.

Maybe Jack should've said something earlier. Maybe he could've prevented this slow and agonizing spiral into borderline alcoholism. But time and time again, he had been reminded that he was a nobody to the Atlas CEO. Endless strings of code kept up to date by the kindness of Rhys' heart.

"The Supernova? Again?"

"Shut up."

He had no say over how Rhys should live his life. Jack kept his promise that he'd watch Rhys wither away, wait until the perfect moment to strike, snatch his life and all that kept him going.

The problem was, Jack didn't know what kept him- them- going. Was it a principle? To survive despite all odds? Rhys' willingness to fight his way out of whatever turmoil he could? Or did he have a higher purpose Jack didn't know about?

"Maybe we could-"

"I said shut up!"

Jack sat back, as he always did, and watched with concern in his mind. Kept his mouth shut as Rhys poured unknown contents into his mouth. Held his gaze, green-eyed, resentful towards any who plastered their physical bodies against Rhys' in an uncaring manner.

Being an observer was torture. "Think you've had enough for tonight, cupcake. I know you can't handle-"

"You don't know shit, alright?" Rhys snapped his head at the hologram, oblivious to all who gave him concerned looks, "You don't know me. You don't know what I want. You don't care. So stop pretending like you do."

Jack backed off, offended, scared for the first time since- since- "Why did you bring me back, huh? So I can watch you ruin your life? Because you were lonely? Because you didn’t know what else to do with me? Why am I still here?"

Rhys lowered his head, his attention on the half-empty glass in front of him. This was not a conversation they were meant to have at a stupid dance club, Jack knew that very well. But when else would he get his answers? If Rhys' avoidance of the topic when he was sober was as clear of a sign as Jack thought, then maybe Rhys’ drunken self would be more open to letting his feelings float to the surface. "Shut up."

Or not.

"Alright, how about this. You get me out of your cybernetics, I get out of your hair. Put me in a new body or destroy me. At this point, I couldn't give two shits what happens to me. I mean, anything's better than this. And you clearly don't want me around, so why the hell should I still be here."

"Fine." Jack didn't know what to make of this answer. Everything was better than living like he didn't exist. Even being sent into pure oblivion. But he didn't know if Rhys was taking his words seriously, or just trying to get rid of him for the night. "Remind me tomorrow. Now get out of my sight."

Remind me tomorrow. That phrase used to bring a smile to Jack's face. It was meant for trivialities, easily forgettable things that just couldn't stick around long enough for Rhys to remember.

But the more he used it, the more Jack realized that they were no longer in the territory of “triviality“. Rhys had been forgetting, his mind shutting down and only focused on the "now" rather than the past and future. He was dooming himself each and every second he spent in those stupid clubs. Numbing his mind. Forgetting how to feel.

Jack disappeared out of his vision, but he was still there, watching Rhys waste his night in the presence of like-minded individuals. Strangely enough, Jack didn't feel compelled to get out of Rhys' hair yet. It was a hypothetical question, the one he had given him; meant to get a reaction out of the man. But if Rhys didn't care enough to remember, then maybe it was finally time for Jack to leave.

_______________________

"Stupid-" Rhys whispered to himself, unable to meet the eyes of whoever was currently on top of him trying their best to rid Rhys of his current distraction. He came into the club to rid himself of troubles, and yet one seemed to just love lingering around, his name like sweet venom on his tongue, "-Jack."

"Not my name, honey."

Rhys rolled his eyes, pushing the stranger off him despite their heated moment. He couldn't deny that Jack got under his skin that night. Whatever the hell he meant by leaving- Rhys needed to stop thinking so hard. "Bring me something hard. Actually, scratch that- I need something that can get me wasted right now. And put it on my tab."

The stranger, a worker of the Supernova, nodded his head in a panicked manner, rushing off towards the bar. Rhys let out a groan of discomfort, sitting back in the booth. As soon as he noticed the blues of Jack's hologram appear right across from him, he started second-guessing his earlier order.

"Not really feeling it tonight, huh?"

Rhys hoped his annoyance and frustration caused by Jack were obvious in his drunken expressions. He gripped onto the seat so tightly; they must've been. But Jack was... Jack. Rhys had no idea how many things he could pick up on. "This would've been so much easier if you were-"

"Gone? Yeah, tell me about it."

"Here," Rhys whispered, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. He didn't know if his whisper was loud enough, or if Jack had read his mind somehow, but as soon as he opened his eyes, the hologram was at his side, concern written all over his features. "Here, Jack." Rhys weakly patted the spot next to him, then pointed at his forehead, "Not- not here."

"Rhys?" Jack's voice sounded distant, like an echo in a dark cave. It came suddenly, the darkness that overwhelmed Rhys. He could not see anything, yet he could feel his body moving on its own, out of his control. Maybe this was it. The moment Jack's been waiting for. A true test towards their gained trust. One that could cost him his life.

"I got it from here." Jack's voice was soft. Almost muted. Warm. Cautious. Safe. Everything Rhys wanted to hear at that moment. Yet the consequences terrified him.

He didn't want to die. Not yet.

"Jack-!"

_______________________

Rhys didn't know what it was that woke him up first; the artificial morning rays that shone through his window right onto his face, his throbbing headache, or the fact that he was still alive.

He was still alive.

He turned around in his bed, wanting to stay in just a while longer.

Just. A. While.

"Mornin', pumpkin."

Rhys' heart skipped a beat, remnants of last night coming up blank. He knew he'd been at the club, where else? But how did he get home? Did he call a cab? Did someone take him?

Did Jack?

Rhys turned around once again; his face instantly met with that of the hologram who had been kneeling near the bed for who knows how long. "Jack." Rhys reached his hand out, his thumb brushing against where Jack's lip should've been.

Jack's eyes followed the motion, silent, observing. And when Rhys’ hand didn't move, only then did he have the courage to speak, "It's been a while since I took control. Gotta say, I'm as surprised as you that I managed to get you here."

"Thank you."

The hologram gave him a weak smile. "Don't worry about it. I mean, it's the last thing I could do since- you know- I'll be going away one way or another."

Rhys' eyes widened, the dread from last night coming to the surface. Right. Jack had asked him to be let go. And Rhys agreed. Why did he agree again?

"I-" Rhys began, his voice stuck in his sore throat, coherent thoughts lost in his foggy mind. Jack watched him struggle with his words, waiting for an answer to their problem, "I don't- Jack, I don't want you to go. I can't-"

"Why?" Jack asked as straightforward of a question as he could. But Rhys didn't know the answer.

He couldn't admit the answer.

"I don't want you to go. Where would you even go? What's out there for you? Who else would you go to?"

"Who- what does that have to do with anything? You wanted me gone. I'm offering you a solution. So, pick your damn mind. What do you want?"

Rhys had hit a new low. Begging Handsome Jack to stay was embarrassing, something he never thought he'd do after everything they went through. But it was true. He needed Jack. "I want you to stay. Please. I'll give you a body, just don't go. I- I need a friend. Someone by my side. I need you."

"You need a friend." Jack repeated, the words feeling alien on his tongue.

"Y-Yes?"

"I'll stay," the hologram agreed, although Rhys could already see the reluctance in his eyes, "on one condition."

"Tell me."

"You stop going to that stupid club. And drinking. And paying for those weirdos." Jack stood up; his back turned to Rhys. Before he had disappeared completely though, there was something else Rhys overhead, perhaps by Jack's will, "Geez, wasting your money like that when I'm right here."

"Huh?"

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Rhack Week 2023 | Day 5 - Night Out

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 6

#yes this is directly connected to the render from day 1 :-)#rhackweek2023 #rhack #rhys strongfork #handsome jack #borderlands

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luveline · 4 months

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Hiiiiii!!!!!!! I recently got back into criminal minds and devoured all ur hotch fics like a MANIAC (you write. So unbelievably well. Im also in love w ur tasm peter stuff, you are just such a good writer thru and thru) and that one request where Jack calls reader mom for the first time really stuck w me so I was wondering if maybe I could request smth of the opposite? Like not-so-single mom!reader and hotch have been dating for a while and her lil girl calls him dad for the first time :3 🖤🖤

thank you for requesting! 💌 —your daughter calls Hotch dad for the first time. fem, 2k

“Come in, come in!” Hotch says, the door held ajar by his arm, forcing you to squeeze in and save the heat. “Quickly, honey, please, get out of the rain.”

Sarah bursts in through the door and away from the rain, her vinyl coat covered in raindrops, her boots wet with mud. “Aaron!” she says, pulling it into something softened and excited at once, though her ‘r’s are weak, closer to ‘w’s. “I missed you.” She jumps from one foot to the other.

He makes sure you’re safely inside before he abandons you. It’s not very kind to you, but he can’t help himself. “Sarah,” he says, without your daughter’s sweetness but heavily fond, “I missed you more, honey. How many days has it been?”

“Four!” she says, holding up four fingers as Hotch grabs her by the waist.

He doesn’t mind her wet coat, working an arm around and beneath her to shuck off her muddy shoes. They topple to the ground to unveil damp socks.

“Oh, no, your socks are wet. I did all the laundry while we were waiting, I have some warm ones for you in the dryer. Should we get you out of this coat?”

“Where’s Jack?” you ask.

“Eating. He was starving, couldn’t wait.”

You kick your shoes off and gather them with Sarah’s to line up by the door. Hotch takes off Sarah’s coat with some one-armed manoeuvring, aware of her smiley gaze following his every move.

“I,” you say, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek, cold lips to his rough skin, “am gonna go to the toilet really quickly. Hi, handsome.”

He savours your kiss and watches you go. He owes you a better greeting, he missed you just as much as he missed your girl. For now, he wipes the cold from Sarah’s cheeks and stations her comfortably on his navel.

He loves her like his own. He’s privileged to get the opportunity, and it’s hard not to feel that low level of awe whenever she’s around, because she loves him the same way. Sarah waits for him to smile before she wraps her arms around his neck, long enough to twine her fingers in the short hair she finds there.

It’s funny to love someone you had no hand in bringing into the world, but no less real. He’d do anything for Sarah. I miss you doesn’t cover it, but it’s a start. “I missed you,” he murmurs, not well-versed in baby talk but always willing to try for his kids. “It’s so nice to see you. Jack missed you too, should we go see him? I can change your socks.”

He ushers her back enough to see her. She has such loving eyes, not shy at all as she nods her head. “Can you make crackers?”

He beams. “Oooh, yes. Crackers and cheese and apple slices, I know what you want, honey. It’s ready for you in the kitchen.”

Things weren’t easy at first for either you nor Hotch. He works too much, and you both have priorities that can’t be shifted, but the connection between you was easy. Love, undoubtedly, pretty much the moment you met, even if it scared him. He never thought he’d get a second chance and he’s not sure you thought you’d find yours either, and yet loving you has been as helpless as loving your daughter. He doesn’t have a choice and he doesn’t want one.

In this time, you’ve found routine. He’s introduced the idea of moving in together and you’re excited for it, though concrete plans haven’t been laid. There’s a lot of questions and no need to rush into answering them yet. He has no intentions of letting you go now —Hotch will do anything it takes to keep his small family.

Today, right now, that’s crackers.

“Sarah!” Jack says when he sees them, jumping off of his chair to climb on top of it. He holds his hands out and Hotch leans down with a loving laugh to let his son hug her. “You’re back!”

“I’m back,” she agrees.

“Do you want some of my sandwiches? Daddy made me two.”

“Yes!” she says, wiggling to be put down and given what he’s promising.

Hotch fights to take her to the sink and wash her little hands, to her horror and whining. He says, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you gotta wash your hands before you eat.”

He puts her in her own chair, and it is Sarah’s chair, outfitted with a big pillow so she can see the table and marked by a pink star sticker, putting a placemat in front of her. Jack quickly pushes one of his sandwiches towards her. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Jackers,” she says.

Hotch smiles. Despite their different interests and ages, they’re quick to get along.

He shouldn’t pry while you’re in the bathroom, but he worries about you. “Honey?” he calls up the stairs.

“I’m just changing!”

“Yeah? Can you bring some socks for Sarah, please?”

You shout back something incomprehensible. He returns to the kitchen, where Sarah looks over the chair with pleading eyes and asks, “Crackers?” a piece of lettuce stuck to her chin.

“Ah,” he says showfully, turning to the fridge to grab the plate of crackers, sliced cheese, and apples he’d Saran wrapped an hour ago. He peels off the wrapping and places it in front of her. “Here, sweetheart. Do you want anything else? Maybe some chips?”

She laughs and grabs a piece of apple without answering him.

“What about you, sweetheart? Drink?” he asks Jack.

“Yes please, daddy.”

Hotch makes Jack a cup of orange juice and Sarah a sippy cup, hers diluted some with water. He places them down in front of the kids, crouching between their chairs, intending to stay and chat. “How’s that?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to listen for your light footsteps on the stairs.

“Thanks, daddy,” Jack says.

“Thank you, daddy,” Sarah echoes, reaching for him. Hotch offers his hand, startled, not quick enough to hide it. She doesn’t pay any mind to his expression, pleased to have her hand held and her big plastic plate of crackers to munch on.

“Why’d you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” you ask, passing him Sarah’s socks, and rounding the table to stand by Jack's other side. “Hi,” you add, ruffling Jack’s hair, “look at you, gorgeous, you got your hair cut.”

Hotch rubs Sarah’s knuckles, trying to phrase it, not sure how to tell you with the kids still there. Will Sarah feel embarrassed if he brings it up so swiftly? Will she feel like she’s done something wrong? Will you?

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He decides to present you with the situation. He’s not manipulative, but clever. “Mommy got your socks, too. Can we take these cold ones off, is that okay?”

“Yes, please,” Sarah says.

You watch in confusion. Hotch gives you a quick look. Trust me for a second.

He eases the socks off of her feet, laughs when she laughs at his tickling, even if he’s not quite sure how to feel. Happy, he gives her toes a squeeze and bunches a sock up to pull it over her heel and up to her ankle. “One,” he says, repeating the process with the same tenderness. “Two. There we go, all warm again, Sarah.”

“Thanks, daddy.”

You breathe in.

Sarah puts some cheese on a cracker and offers it to Hotch, who eats it while you summon him away with silent parent talk. He kisses her forehead and wipes it clean as he goes.

“Did she do that when I was upstairs?” you ask quietly.

Hotch knows you. Loves you, but knows you intrinsically. He knows just by looking at you that you’re happy, but you’re worried about something, and it’s not hard to guess what it is: he might not want Sarah to call him daddy, and telling her not to might break her heart, and yours too.

“She did.”

“She’s never… expressed that interest to me.”

“Sometimes they think about things more than we know.” Jack still surprises him as he did when he was a toddler.

“She just loves you,” you say.

“I love her. She can call me whatever she wants to.”

You hold his wrist, taking a step closer to him. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” He murmurs now you’re close, ducking his head to yours, two halves of the same heart looking at one another’s hands. “I love her more than anything in the world. I want to make her crackers for the rest of my life.” Hotch puts his index finger to the soft skin under your chin. “Maybe by tomorrow she’ll forget she called me daddy and she’ll never say it again, but… I want her to. Is that okay?” he asks.

You lean up to kiss him and you nod into his lips, which makes it hard but not impossible to kiss back. “She loves you so much,” you say quietly. You’d only wanted a quick peck.

He might’ve said he loves her more than anything, but there’s a level on which he holds her and Jack where you sit too. He loves you. You made Sarah who she is all by yourself, and you’re so lovable standing in his reach. You’re perfect.

Maybe he’s feeling sweet because Sarah called him daddy.

“I think Jack confused her,” he says.

“Maybe. You are, you know, her dad. You do everything a dad would.”

Hotch slots his leg between yours and leans back to force you into his favourite kind of hug. You laugh slowly, hug the same, your arms sliding up over his shoulders to wrap behind his head, your hand cupping his hair.

He closes his eyes and feels your waist.

“You don’t have to worry,” he says.

“I don’t worry about you and Sarah, I know you love her. I guess I just worry about us. Not that you don’t love me, Aaron.”

“Big changes,” he guesses in a whisper.

“Big changes.”

He encourages you away to hold your face. He hopes that waiting with you in quiet for a while can explain it better than words.

Your shoulders finally relax.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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notmyneighbor · 5 months

Text

Scarlet Milk - Doppelganger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Word Count - 5.2k

Rating - Explicit

CW - sexual content, blood drinking

Also available on AO3

fanart by kaworinx

Your eyes flick to the clock mounted on the wall. Your morning shift at the telephone exchange was almost over.

“What number, please?”

You scan the switchboard for the correct sequence, removing and plugging in the jack to connect the call seamlessly. The next number requested is for a different exchange and you transfer the call with barely a delay.

At last it’s time to set the headset down. Your work as a telephone operator is done for the day.

Business in the telephone exchange office had really picked up since the war, and had increased further still after the DDD began their operation to help identify and weed out the invading doppelgangers. It’s the perfect time to work, getting as many hours as you need and stowing away the extra funds for a rainy day.

You ride a bicycle to work since your employer isn’t far from home. A little rougher going in the winter months, but now it was spring, the weather warming up nicely, the budding trees and renewed verdant color in lawns further signs that the seasons were changing.

You’ve barely left the city behind and entered the suburbs before you run into trouble: a sharp object, perhaps a bit of glass or metal, has punctured one of your tires. You slip off the bike seat after coming to a bumpy halt, now forced to walk alongside the bike the rest of the way home. You think there’s a repair kit lurking somewhere in the house, you’re just not entirely sure where.

You spy a milk delivery sitting near the front door of one of the houses you pass, still remaining unclaimed at this late morning hour. A small blue and yellow bird perched on the rim of one of the bottles is startled by your presence and temporarily abandons its assault on the foil lid before it regains its confidence and returns, the beak breaching the barrier so that it can drink the rich cream that has risen to the top. Clever, naughty thing. You’d shoo him away but you know it or one of its brethren will just return anyway. You had to be careful nowadays, leaving something like that unprotected.

You had to be careful nowadays, period.

You spy the milkman’s truck further up the road, the driver near the tailgate, lifting his cap and dragging the back of a pale wrist against his perspiring forehead. The rear of the vehicle is empty, the goods inside all distributed for the day’s route.

Your pace slows as you draw closer, nodding a greeting to the man. You don’t recognize him. Maybe a new hire for the dairy company. The other driver had been getting older. Maybe he’d finally retired. At least, you hoped his sudden absence was for that pleasant reason and not something more sinister relating to the doppels. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” His voice is warm and friendly. You see his eyes focus on the deflated tire, then back up to your face. “Flat tire, huh? Need a lift?”

“Oh, no, I can manage, thank you. I’m nearly there.”

“I’m heading that way. There’s no reason to tax yourself.”

You shake your head. “Really, I’m fine.”

He shrugs. “Alright, then. Get home safe.” You watch as he seals the back doors and returns to the driver’s side, climbing up and settling behind the wheel. You suddenly feel foolish. The man was just trying to be kind, surely. He starts the engine and eases back onto the road slowly, decelerating to a meager crawl to keep pace with you, calling to you through the open window. “Last chance to change your mind.” He smiles. Handsome. He has such an honest face. Weary eyes. The early mornings no doubt leaving those inky shadows on ivory skin. He must be eager to be home now that his job was completed, yet he was still offering to help.

In spite of your earlier caution, you find yourself feeling it would be rude to decline again, and you accept the milkman’s offer. “Alright, thank you. I promise it’s not far and then you can be on your way. I’m sure you want to get home.”

The truck halts, the breaks squeaking slightly. Your bicycle is lifted effortlessly and stowed in the back. There’s no seat inside save for the driver, so you remain standing, bracing yourself against the rear of the cab awkwardly. At least you don’t have far to go.

“Anyone at home to help you with that flat tire?”

“No, I live alone,” you admit, then silently curse yourself. You shouldn’t be volunteering that kind of information, even if it was the truth. Your brother had left you with the inherited house after he’d moved in with his new wife last year, still disappointed that you hadn’t found someone yet, disapproving of your decision to choose to live independently in such strange, dangerous times. Now you’ve just revealed this vulnerable fact to a stranger. A male stranger.

“The birds have been at your deliveries again,” you say, searching for something to fill the sudden silence.

“So I’ve seen. They can’t resist the cream. Interesting story about that. It’s only one particular species, have you noticed?”

“I haven’t, actually.”

“They had no trouble before they started sealing the bottles, but even after the lids were implemented they persisted until they found a way to get inside. Taught the others how to do it, too. Adaptation and evolution are necessary for survival.”

“I suppose you’re right. This is my house here,” you point and the driver slows and stops, parking the truck along the curb and shutting off the engine.

“Let me give you a hand unloading the bicycle.”

“I appreciate it, thank you.”

“No problem.” The milkman stands. Suddenly the cab of the truck feels very small. He’s positioned so that he’s blocking the doorway, making no move to head to the back where your bike is being stored. The smile on your features slides off like melting ice cream on a summer day.

No. He couldn’t be.

Your heart begins to beat rapidly. The smile he offers doesn’t quiet touch his eyes this time.

“Actually, I’ll just um…I can get it. Thank you for the lift.” You try to ease past him, thinking to make your escape through the rear of the vehicle instead, but he slaps out an arm to bar your path, crowding you against the steel frame.

“We’re adapting, too. Evolving constantly. Getting better and better at blending in. Finding new ways to breach your homes and sate our hunger.”

“Please don’t kill me.” As if the doppelganger would have mercy. You feel tears pooling in your eyes. How foolish you had been, walking into his trap. Why hadn’t you trusted your instincts?

“I’m not going to kill you. Not yet, anyway. See, it’s occurred to me to take a page from those birds’ books, so to speak. Sample the sweetest, most nutritious part. And let the rest of the meal live on, thereby providing an endless supply, rather than gorging on one human in a single sitting, then being forced to find another. We’ve already seen what happens when we indulge too voraciously. It’s why we were forced to visit your planet, after all.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

“Your blood. That is what I desire. A sample each time, and then you go about your daily life as usual. A fair deal, isn’t it? Certainly a better offer than most of my kin would give you.”

“You want to…to…” You can even bring yourself to utter it out loud.

“Drink your blood, yes.”

“Like a vampire,” you whisper in horror.

“Something like that.”

“What if I refuse?”

“Then I consume you right here and now.”

Two tears spill over your cheeks. The doppel clucks his tongue. “There’s no need for that. It’s really a very obvious choice. The sooner you agree, the sooner I’ll be out of your hair for the remainder of the day.”

“Is it…is it going to hurt?”

“Not as badly as me tearing you apart with my claws, I assure you.” His features soften, and that impression of how handsome the original man he’s copied must be strikes you again. “This doesnt need to be violent. It will go easier for you if you don’t resist.”

You swallow thickly, trying to summon courage. “How do you know I won’t just call the DDD?”

“Because that would be a very, very foolish thing to do. And I think you are smarter than that, aren’t you?” His nostrils flare slightly and he inhales deeply. “I’m getting hungry. Do you agree to my terms or not?”

“What guarantee do I have that you’re not just going to kill me anyway?”

“None, other than my word.”

You could almost laugh. An invader asking you to trust him. To allow yourself to be fed upon until…when would this conceivably end? “How long will I have to do this for?”

He shrugs. “It depends.”

“On what?”

“Many things. How many others will supplement my diet. How much I decide to take. This will end whenever I say it ends,” he adds in a growl, and you shudder.

You close your eyes. “Alright. Just get it over with.”

“Not here. Wouldn’t want the neighbors to see, now, would we? Hop on down and I’ll deliver your bicycle. Then we can go inside and…have a little snack.”

You wish your neighbors would see your plight, but there’s no one to help you. The elderly man across the street was probably well into his morning nap. The young couple next door both worked. The housewife who lived on the other side was undoubtedly busy with chores, the children at school.

The doppelganger leans your damaged bike against the fence, following you up to the door, waiting for you to unlock it.

So. You really were going to invite him inside after all.

Normally you’d be fixing lunch at this time. Maybe doing some housework yourself. Now you set your keys in the trivet dish by the door and tuck your shoes neatly beside the frame, watching the doppel shut the door behind him.

“Come here.”

You’d taken a couple of steps further into the hallway and his voice makes you jerk to a halt. You warily turn back.

That smile again. Your stomach flips nervously as you move to stand beside him.

He makes a little hum of sound, pleased you’re being obedient and cooperative. Your hair is already pinned up, your throat exposed. Assuming that was where he was going to bite you. The thought makes your breath hitch and you close your eyes again, willing the moment to be over.

You feel the heat of his breath as he leans closer to your neck, hear another deep inhale. His lips graze your skin in the barest whisper of a kiss. His tongue traces a line down the side of your neck and then there is pain, sharp and fast, your body reflexively trying to pull away but his arms fasten around you, clutching your body against his.

“Relax,” he urges you again, his mouth lifting just long enough to issue the command to you before it returns and you feel the suction, the wet heat, that terrible drag of your life force pulled from the vessel beneath the skin. A little moan accompanies that gesture, sending vibrations as the alien savors the taste of you. Your fingers curl in his work shirt as you’re pushed back against the door. If there had been anyone there to see, it would have looked as if you were a young couple in the throes of passion. But there is no one witnessing this act. It is just you and the doppelganger.

“Enough,” he murmurs, his face revealed once more, no longer supping from your throat. You reach for the wound, surprised to find your hands coming away clean. No blood. Just scabbed puncture marks you can palpate with the pads of your fingers.

He’s breathing heavily. It had been hard to stop, maybe, fighting that natural instinct to kill and ravage. The dark eyes are bloodshot, a pair of fangs visible before they’re retracted again, the red haze gradually clearing as he continues staring at you. His appearance returns to that of the milkman he’s impersonating and he finally steps back.

“Tomorrow,” he says, a promise, a threat, before he exits, leaving you trembling, your fingers still cradling your neck. You hear the truck’s engine rumble to life.

Tomorrow.

***

He visits again the following evening.

You don’t know why you’d expected the doppelganger to be at your door at any particular time. Your anxiety has been peaking in anticipation. Dreading the next feeding. Still wondering what’s to stop him from just killing you anyway.

The marks he’d left had been surprisingly tidy. Easy enough to conceal. You’d struggled at work that day, your normally nimble hands and sharp eyes faltering more than once, your performance lacking. Your supervisor certainly noticed. You’d been spoken to. A warning.

Maybe you should take the next day off. Maybe you should…

A knock at the door interrupts your musings and you look up from the novel you’ve been attempting to distract yourself with.

He was here.

The temptation to phone the DDD is there again. But it would take them time to get here. You’d certainly be destroyed for your breach of contract long before the disposal team arrived.

You open the door.

He’s still wearing the milkman’s uniform, although this time he’s shed the cap, revealing the thick wavy brown hair that had been hiding beneath. Wordlessly you step back to make room for him to enter. Your eyes are on the floor now, suddenly shy. You hear the door being closed.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes lift and you gaze at the doppel through your lashes. Surely he could hear how elevated your pulse is. Did that entice him, that rapid flow of crimson liquid?

The mimic moves behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you back against him. Fingers guide your head to dip to one side, a gentle nudge before his lips are at your neck again. The same side as before. They press more firmly this time. The stripe he licks reaches all the way to your ear lobe. A whimper escapes you. It feels good, even though it shouldn’t.

The sharp pair of the monster’s cuspids pierce your throat. Another choked sound escapes you, this one a blurred mixture of pain and pleasure. The fingers resting against your abdomen dig in. His other hand is braced against your chin, manipulating your head, keeping you in position while he takes what he desires.

You clutch at the hand on your stomach. You think you’d faint if you didn’t have him at your back. There is something hard pressing against you there, another need digging into the cleft of your buttocks. Arousal. Your cheeks feel hot. There are no longer teeth sunk into your neck but his mouth is still there, laving and caressing the injured flesh. Soft, wet kisses planted. “So sweet,” he breathes against your ear. “Your scarlet milk is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”

He departs minutes later and you stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you get ready for bed, wondering why you’re not more afraid.

***

The milk delivery truck is parked outside your home when you arrive there the next afternoon.

You lean your mended bike against the picket fence. There are people outside. Someone is raking leaves from last autumn. Children are tossing a ball back and forth. The doppelganger has a bottle of milk in his hand, the tips of his fingers clutching it by the neck. He’s leaning against the outside of the truck.

“Come inside,” you hiss, not trusting him not to make a spectacle right there and then. He smirks at your invitation, following you inside.

There are sunspots in front of your eyes. It was so bright outdoors. The interior of your house is darker, cooler. “You should be more discreet,” you mutter, your hands rubbing together restlessly. Nervous. You’re so nervous.

“No one is paying any attention. They didn’t care when I took the truck. They hand the goods over willingly. It’s made finding other…donors…so simple. Your kind is so oblivious to what’s right in front of them.”

“How many other people are you…?” The idea of the imposter operating as a milkman making deliveries as a guise to shield his true purpose of seeking more sources of that sinister meal he craves twists your stomach in knots. Worried. You’re guilty over what’s happening to your neighbors. Not necessarily your fault, but you knew about it, and you allowed it, participated in it…

“Not many. Discretion is best, we agree on that much.” He tips his head to one side thoughtfully. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous?”

“Don’t worry. You’re still my favorite treat.”

“I’m not jealous,” you reply defensively, perhaps a little too much vehemence behind the words. Was there some of that mixed in your emotions as well?

“You should let me give you a ride home one of these days,” he murmurs.

You frown, your reverie dissolving. “Why?”

“Because,” he drawls. Not an answer. His upper eyelids drip languidly as he sets the bottle on the kitchen counter. The foil lid is soon demolished into a crumpled ball. He drives a middle finger into the cream gathered at the top of the bottle, scooping out a dollop of the thick substance. “Open your mouth.”

“What?”

“This is the best part, isn’t it? You humans seem to enjoy it. Open,” he commands again, and this time there is a bit of a threat there, the easygoing teasing suddenly disappearing. His eyes darken and your lips part obediently. The digit pierces those borders and drives straight back across your tongue, your eyelashes fluttering, surprised, the brisk invasive movement catching you off guard. Your mouth closes reflexively over the offering and the wedge of muscle presses his finger against the top of your soft palate, the pad brushing past the ridges to find the smoother flesh as he offers you a taste. Your stroke across the joint of his knuckle, then the nail bed as he slowly withdraws back through the tight ring of your mouth, finally emerging with a soft popping sound.

“Good?” The word is croaked out hoarsely. Your heart jackhammers as you nod. You watch as he repeats the gesture in his own mouth, brow furrowing over the taste as he considers the flavor of the cream. “I prefer you instead.”

The doppel’s lips touch your throat. You can’t stop the needy sound that escapes. “I won’t see you for a few days. Need to let your body rest and replenish. You’re of no use to me without the proper nutrition.” He nips your ear lobe. “So I’m going to stay a little longer today. Prolong things. I’m sure you don’t mind.” His hands have found the bottom of your skirt, lifting the hem. There are curtains on the windows but anyone standing close enough outside could look in and see what’s happening. Your cheeks burn with shame, that rush of heat further elevated because some part of you wants this. His fingers snake beneath the waistband of your panties and dip between your legs, swiping through the arousal leaking from you to collect a sample.

He licks them clean. An appreciative hum. “Now this, I really enjoy. Why don’t you hop up here.” You never get the chance because he lifts you first, setting you on the edge of the counter. Your skirt is flipped back impatiently again, your panties dragged roughly down. And you allow it. You allow the manhandling of your clothes, your body, manipulated into balancing precariously on the edge before he pulls a chair from under the kitchen table over and settles into it, his fingernails lightly scratching against your thighs before he parts them and buries his face into your sex.

Your head tips back and you bite your bottom lip as the doppel explores the sensitive pink flesh, enthusiastically swirling his tongue over the folds and your clit before pushing inside you. The hands curled around your thighs are changing, the nails digging in no longer the replicated human’s. The tongue violating your canal seems to lengthen, expanding. You’re afraid to see and yet you want to watch, your fingers burrowing into his hair. Bloodshot eyes, the doppel’s easing through, yellow tinged, pupils now sharp, narrow, a flash of teeth before his mouth shifts impossibly wide, more than a human jaw could ever accommodate, sucking at your clit while still fucking you with his tongue. A monster is ravaging your body and your only thought is MORE. The wedge of muscle curves inside you, tapping in staccato movements against the shallow secluded shelf of hidden pleasure and it sends you over the edge immediately, keening and shaking as he continues sucking and stabbing until you can’t stand it anymore, your legs trying to close, the hand that had been pulling him against your pussy now trying to push him away.

He finally surrenders, mouth parting reluctantly from your sex. You’re on fire, every nerve tingling in your extremities, at your center, where the pulse is strongest. A satisfied grin, a flash of sharp teeth aligned in a row, before the imposter milkman stands, kicking the chair back so hard it knocks over. His fingers sink into your hair and he jerks your head back, grabbing one of your hands and pressing it over the bump in his trousers. You fumble the fly open, dragging his needy erection through the flap of his briefs. It’s large and hot and your hands seem too small, too delicate to stroke that engorged organ properly.

“Milk it. Make me cum.” His lips hover before your own. You wonder why he hasn’t kissed you on the mouth yet. Would those razor slivers of bone slice you to ribbons? The morphed tongue strokes the angle of your jaw. Your hand is working in harsh, jerky movements. Clumsy. You’re panting with fear and desire. You can’t reach his mouth at this angle so your lips find his throat instead, the patch of skin just above the fastened work shirt and knotted bowtie. He growls and bellows as your fingers finally, finally seem to have adapated, smoothing a gush of precum over the sensitive crown. Large as it was, his prick still felt human enough, so perhaps it was the same, or perhaps he still had yet to reveal its true nature. A moan now hummed against your throat, this soft and pleading noise the polar opposite of the menancing sound he’d emitted moments before. Teeth scrape your neck. The veins in his cock bulge against your hand. He’s so swollen, so ready to erupt. Fangs begin to dig into your flesh. Only a pair. He’s shifted appearances again, protecting you somewhat. You wonder how much of a struggle it is to keep it in check, during the height of something like this. The teeth descend further and you feel the suction as he pulls your blood into his mouth just as a hot spill of seed bathes your hand. He leans forward and your free hand reaches back to brace yourself, sending the milk bottle onto its side, mirroring the white flood that now coats your skin. He sucks and it aches and it feels like a second orgasm building inside of you.

At last, at last he draws back, and it is a human’s face you see, with shadow smudged eyes and mussed hair and swollen lips. The urge to kiss him flares anew but he backs away. You’re suddenly aware of the dairy product that’s spread across the counter, sinking into your clothes, spilling over the edge and dripping onto the floor. The doppel rights the chair he’d tipped over earlier. Clothes are straightened into some semblance of order.

You’re normally relieved when he departs. Today you find yourself clutching his sleeve as he reaches for the doorknob. Something has happened between you two, besides the obvious. A new kind of intimacy blossoming, satisfying other, more primal needs. Adapting and evolving like the doppel had said, perhaps.

“I’ll see you soon.” Not tomorrow. He’s already told you that. An anemic blood supply will not satisfy him. You’re more lightheaded than you’re letting on. He’s taken so much already, but you still want to give him more. “Soon,” he repeats. Then he’s gone.

***

In the dream, you’re in your bed, trying to achieve a slumber that won’t come. You toss and turn restlessly. Get a glass of water. Use the restroom. Flip your pillow over to the cooler side. Shift the covers. It’s no use. You can’t sleep.

You’re thinking about the doppelganger.

About that smile, that warm breath and wicked mouth and wet tongue. His body pressing against yours. Tasting you. Cumming in your hand. The vampiric kisses. It should be terrifying, knowing he holds your life in his hands, your fate determined by the whim of an alien creature.

The replicant is back.

You sense him before he even taps on the glass of the French doors that lead from you bedroom into a private garden area in the back yard. You recognize that shape behind the gauzy curtains that shield the glass, flinging back the comforter and sliding out of bed. The cool air wafts over you as you open the door. You’re only wearing a thin nightgown. You shouldn’t be dressed like this in front of him. You shouldn’t be doing any of the things you’ve been doing with him.

His palm settles warm against the side of your neck. His mouth touches yours for the first time.

Heat pools in your sex. He tastes like metal, copper heavy on your tongue. There is the flavor of tart wine and something smokey as your body is pressed down onto the bed. Your fingers siphon through his hair. You can feel his erection again, demanding somewhere near your own groin. His hips cant slightly and you both moan softly.

The hem of your nightgown is slid up the length of your thigh. You can feel the sharp points of the claws that tear your panties from your body, a casual display that leaves you gasping. A faint jingle of a belt moving and the whine of the metal teeth of a zipper parting and then his cock is shoved into your slickened entrance.

The tongue that twines around yours feels foreign now, the doppel revealing more of his true form. Long and thick, like the prick that’s invading your pussy. Your brain in its dream state has no sense of shame. There is nothing but desire, hot and wet. The front of your nightgown is sliced through, the fabric easily parting beneath the sharp claws that have replaced human nails. Your breasts are kneaded as the sound of lewd slapping fills the air, wet noises from your joined mouths, from the cock pounding into your dripping cunt. Had he been hungry? You’d been starving, you realize. Craving this. Undeniably wrong but oh so right.

“Bite me.” In your waking state, you’d never issued such a request. Only in dreams could you be bold enough. Your fingers clutch the nape of his neck, encouraging him as your knees dig into his ribs. You gift him your blood and he gifts you a load of something thicker, creamier, milky shots of cum spurting deep inside of you. There are stars in front of your eyes, fireworks, bursting lights in the darkness. He kisses your mouth and the tang of your own lifeforce is strong there. His teeth are still sharp. He hasn’t changed back. You kiss him again anyway.

***

Your eyes open.

It’s raining. You can hear the soft patter of it against the roofing shingles above. Your heart is hammering wildly. Your entire body is drenched in sweat, your panties soaked with something more carnal. You fling back the sheet and blanket much as you had in the dream, padding barefoot into the adjoining bathroom. You need a shower. You feel soiled.

You wish the events of the dream had really happened.

It’s been five days since you’ve seen the doppelganger. The water of the shower spills over you, pelting you gently. You drag the bar of soap over your body. There is something thick and wet between your legs, the fluids of your arousal a different kind of wetness than the spray of water. Your clit is swollen. You wish for his fingers, his tongue. You circle the raised bundle until your body trembles, until you’re forced to lean against the shower wall for support.

You shut off the faucet and towel yourself dry before pulling on a clean nightgown. You burrow your face into your pillow and think of the mimic’s smile until sleep reclaims you once more.

***

A week has passed. Now you think something must be wrong. The doppelganger’s delayed absence can’t be intentional.

Perhaps the DDD had gotten to him. Someone had seen something, called. Maybe not all his ‘donors’ were quite as willing as yourself. A hot flame builds inside you. You are jealous, after all.

It’s raining on the night he finally returns. Later than he has ever been. The water has soaked his skin, his clothing. There is only the living room lamp on to illuminate your view of the alien creature, looking so pitiful standing there, a drenched figure with tired eyes and dark hair plastered flat against his head, the rainwater spilling over the sharp angles of his cheeks and nose, over the gentle curves of his lips.

He steps inside and closes the door. Your breathing is harsh, rapid. A match for his own. “Where have you been?”

“Did you miss me?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. His voice drags against you skin like velvet. “No.”

“Liar.”

You reach for each other at the same time. Your fingers knot into the saturated fabric of his work shirt while his close over your upper arm, crowding you back against the door. “Where have you been?” You repeat again, your voice gentler this time. “I thought the DDD had gotten to you, I…”

“You were worried about me.”

“Yes,” you admit reluctantly.

“You missed me.”

“Yes.”

His thumb briefly strokes one cheek. “I missed you, too.”

“Why don’t you ever kiss me?”

“I do. Quite a lot, in fact. In many places,” he adds, smirking a little, some of his customary teasing emerging.

“You know what I mean. On the mouth.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Because,” he says, and for a moment you think he won’t answer you properly again, dodging the question, but then he continues, “that means something very, very different.”

“Different how?”

“Do you want me to show you?”

“Yes.”

The doppel’s lips press against yours. Closed at first. Then they divide and your tongue darts between them, granting you your first taste of the invader. Nothing like the dream. No bitterness or metal or sour flavor. No smoke or ash. Just clean, pure, natural.

“Do you understand now?” His gaze traps yours. Human pupils dilating. You know what really lurks beneath. You like both.

“No. Show me again.”

A faint smirk. Then the doppelganger’s mouth captures yours once more.

#francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman x reader #milkman x you #francis mosses #milkman #thats not my neighbor #the milkman #that’s not my neighbor #doppelganger #doppel francis #tnmn smut #tnmn francis mosses #francis tnmn #tnmn milkman #tnmn fanfic

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lovemomhatepolice · 4 months

Text

drew starkey nswf alphabet (part 1) (minors DNI!)

navigation taglist requests

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Drew is very caring. You can never complain about lack of attention or proper care. He even forgets himself sometimes so long as you are well taken care of. Fortunately, you are able to balance the middle ground so that both of you are maximally satisfied and cared for. After sex, he is even more cuddly. He is constantly following you, never leaving your side B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) I don't know if he has favorite body parts, both with you and with himself. Drew is really a person who admires the whole body. He realizes that he's damn handsome and well-groomed, so he likes himself in general. With you, he has the same. He likes, loves your body as a whole. Okay but how do you connect during sex in this one place. GOD!!! C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) He's a fan of ending up inside you.JYou eatIfIf mIf youIf he onlyIf he has only If you just let him, of course, he seizes the opportunity every time. It probably connects with his breeding kink, but you have no problem with it. You even quite like it... D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Everyone is familiar with this popular tweet about spitting in the mouth. And everyone is well aware that it was certainly memorable for this man. Surely he won't let go of talking about it, and maybe he'll wait to talk about it himself? E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Well he is experienced, although he hasn't had many girlfriends or side hook-ups in his life. He knows perfectly well what he is doing, how he should move, what to touch. A good knight with good weapons. It can work wonders with your body, even without much care (although he still tries hard) F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) A fan of the classic missionary! It could be simple, but no, the missionary gives him plenty of options. He can change his angle in you, kiss you wherever he wants, he can perfectly see the place where you connect. Well, he has to pamper his pillow princess and he doesn't mind it at all G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Drew laughs a lot, oh, hearing his throaty laugh during sex is something else. it often happens to him, but you don’t protest. You also have moments of silliness, and your whole act becomes a place of silly text. However, more often he happens to be serious, grown man behave like this, right? (kidding aside this man will do anything to make you laugh. Well unless you happen to be crying from arousal)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Little hair on top = little hair on the bottom. He likes to keep everything well trimmed. Even his hands happen to shave, so what's the surprise that he's shaved in his intimate areas. I think with you, he would also expect you to have it neat so he could dive in there without a problem I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) He can really be affectionate during sex. If you feel that way, that's how he will be. He loves to give emotion into it, not to show that it's carnal pleasure alone. He likes to tell you all sorts of compliments, to show that he cares, that it feels good. If you want rose petals, you'll have rose petals J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Oh, he doesn't have to worry about that. You're both aroused at the same time, and if you're not, let's not lie to each other - one word and you're already on your knees. And if you're not next to each other? He keeps it inside and waits until you meet, then your act has even more power K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Breeding. The beautiful man is now over thirty, and a light has gone on in his head about starting a family. And when you showed up, he can't stand it all the more without a vision of you with a belly full of his baby L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Wherever you want. Drew is quite submissive about it. The bed, the countertop, the wall, the shower. Wherever you want, really. And he'll run after you like a stray puppy. But sex in the tub, oh, just a word, and he's already there. Ready and compact for action. Bubbles, warm water, steam rising in the bathroom, oh god M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) You in his too-big-for-you T-shirts with nothing underneath, oh god, this man is already on his knees for you. Or the sight of your hips moving to the beat of the music, especially close to his crotch, oh, it's too much for him

A/N: part two will be here soon BUZZ CUT DREW I'M CRYING

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

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moronkombat · 1 year

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Bi-Han nsfw alphabet? 🫣🧊

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Bi-Han is rather tender with his lover after having sex. He is quick to check on them, making sure they are comfortable and content. A large hand will encompass a cheek and his eyes will search his lover's before he pulls you close. His arms around you like a barrier to the entire world and its evils. He will protect you from them all

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Bi-Han is proud of his face. Not because it a handsome one but becomes it is identical to his mother's. Her visage is painted on him, it all he has left of her to look at besides aging photos. As he ages he likes to think his mother would look this way too

His partner's hands. So much smaller and lighter than his own, so easily to be broken. Bi-han would never. Not in any lifetime would he harm his lover. Those hands are to be held, kisses and caressed

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Definitely prefers to finish inside his partner. It is much more intimate and personal for him to release himself within a place most warm and hidden. Bi-Han truly feels deeply connected to his partner when their natural essence mingle and flow together

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Is often plagued by "inappropriate" thoughts of his lover. There is a hunger behind his eyes that fill his head with tantalizing fantasies of the carnal variety. He will tell absolutely no one that he often thinks of his lover quite lewdly. He vents these thoughts through rigorous exercise and sparring with other Lin Kuei

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He's a virgin Very inexperienced. Bi-Han found little use or time for engaging in sexualized behaviors. He is not partial to seeking out a bedwarmer or a temptation of the night. When Bi-Han loves, it is completely and truly and with the one person he holds dearest

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Very much so ever changing. The position often changes based on the opportunity that is in front of him. Though he is rather traditional and prefers missionary with his lover. It feels right when he can look into his lovers eyes, bodies pressed closely together. Bi-Han likes to be on top because he wishes to hold you close and shield you from all the horrors of the world

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Bi-Han is exceptionally serious in the bedroom. He will not incorporate humor as he finds it disrespectful to you and this private moment shared between the two of you. Bi-Han would never disgrace his lover in such a way

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Bi-Han is neat and groomed but not hairless. He makes it a point to keep himself trimmed and even as to not pester his partner by accidentally irritating them with prickly hairs. While he can grow facial hair, he almost always shaves it but tends to rush through it causing his skin to feel roughened

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Despite his rather grim and intimidating demeanor, Bi-Han longs to show his partner a perfect romance. The only problem with that is he is incredibly awkward in that subject. That will not stop him from trying and, if he's known his lover for awhile, he eventually finds a good pattern of romance. He shows romance through gestures and not words. Do not expect to hear him say those three pretty words. They are not needed when he holds you so tenderly as your bodies entangle and he whispers to you "my heart"

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Seldomly indulges in such acts but probably should. He does have "impure" thoughts of his lover very frequently and intrusively and they weigh on him. He mostly releases himself through exercise or roughly sparring with someone

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Marking- Bi-Han is rather "vanilla" on the surface but peal the skin further back and corruption lingers. While he will never leave a cut on his partner or anything that will tear the skin he does enjoy leaving those reddened circles where he kissed and sucked. He is very meticulous when placing them, always somewhere no one else can see. They are for him and you to feast upon their memories in privacy. He does not leave exposed marks as to not bring attention to you or disrespect you. Bruising tends to occur during sex due to the sheer size of pace of him. While he feels guilty bringing them about, there is something about seeing your skin so painted quite thrilling

Breeding/Pregnancy- This is one he will never admit. He'd rather choke on these words than confess to such a perversion. Yet he is so enticed when he thinks about getting his partner pregnant with his child, with his heir. He groans and his spine curls just thinking about it. Each time he cums within his lover, there is a betraying prayer that wishes for his seed to take root so that you may grow round with child. If his partner were to become pregnant, he finds them incredibly attractive. Probably more than he should

Size difference- Bi-Han is large and his lover is...so fragile and delicate. Barely can he fit himself within warm walls. It takes oh so long for him to completely sheath himself inside. His hand will lay upon your naval and there he feels himself moving, the very outline of him traced into his palm

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bi-Han will almost always prefer to take his lover in the bedroom. He does not allow anyone in his personal quarter. That is a place for him and now it is for you too. It means to be exposed and vulnerable to have another in his room with him. He finds this the perfect place to express his love to you

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Bi-Han gets in the mood by his partner's appearance. A pretty expression, a graceful step a lithe build that seems so different than his own. He longs to take away those layers of clothing and take your body into his arms

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Bi-Han will not harm his lover. He will not lay a hurtful hand on them, he just can't. Never will he bring them pain. Bi-Han will only protect you from it

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He enjoys both but expects to give you oral more than receive it. Why? Because he sees how much you like it and how loud you get for him. Louder than sound your moans can be when he between your legs and that really riles him up. However, receiving is also very much so enjoyed and he tends to be rather noisy when you go down on him

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Bi-Han is a rather healthy mis between the two. He will be slow and sensual but also pick up the tempo when he starts to really get into the mood. Those are when he bruises to your hips are created as his own slam and collide into yours while teeth are bared or snagged against a lip and groans most guttural spawn in his throat

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Does not prefer them as he feels it does not allow enough time to truly experience each other fully. Will he outright refuse them? No but he does not seek them out at all

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Bi-Han is a cautious lover i will go down with this ship so taking risks are not exactly thought of. Will he experiment? Yes, as long as it brings no harm to his lover or makes him feel as though he is hurting them

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Seemingly unlimited stamina. This man is a bull made of steel and iron. He could continue all night and into the morning but he does not often do that as his lover tends to tire quicker than him

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He'd be open to the idea of them but ultimately unsure and a bit lost in terms of how to use them. He will need guidance and his partner to request their use. Otherwise, they do not even cross his mind

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A fair lover most of the time but he does succumb to those impish temptations. This mostly manifests during oral sex with his partner. He longs to hear your whines more and more and so he tends to draw out his methods when using his tongue

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Bi-Han groans and grunts frequently during sex and is not silence nor quiet. He not loud either, however. He falls somewhere in middle and begins to reach his most audible during a faster pace

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Bi-Han is prone to jealousy even if he and his partner have been in a long standing committed relationship. He simply cannot help but feel a twitch of annoyance when your attention is on another. He often glares at the one you are speaking with which doesn't go unnoticed. When he is feeling particularly jealous he will become vocal about it in bed by saying "you are mine and i am yours. this will be forever"

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Bi-Han is muscular, toned and very fit. His body has been built up and carved by combat and training. His arms are large and powerful, legs muscular and refined. Every part of his body showcases his exquisite physique. He is large in every way with his length above average and with a hefty girth to match

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is moderate. Not too high but not low. He fits comfortably in the middle. He and his lover do not engage in primal desires daily but typically do not go longer than a couple of days without it

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

His eyes do not close nor does he leave his lover in the bed. His aim to stay with them after each time he and you have sex. Bi-Han holds you to him but often says very little or nothing at all. Yet he does not sleep, not until you do. He simply enjoys laying in your comfort and love until you are ready to sleep

#mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat fanworks #mortal kombat headcanons #mk1 #mortal kombat x reader #bi han #mk1 bi han #sub zero #mortal kombat smut #bi han x you #bi han headcanon #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader #sub zero smut

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growingstories · 1 year

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Teacher

Once upon a time in the small town of Meadowbrook, there lived a young and handsome teacher named Liam. Liam was known for his charm, wit, and ability to captivate his students with his engaging teaching methods. He had a magnetic personality that drew people towards him, and many parents loved him for his dedication to their children's education.

But Liam had a secret. Every year, it seemed that he was steadily gaining weight. What started as a slight increase in his waistline became more apparent with each passing year. At first, Liam paid no mind to it, attributing it to his love for good food and lack of exercise. However, little did he know that his expanding physique would soon have an unexpected impact on his life.

One fateful day, during lunch break at Meadowbrook High School, Liam found himself seated at a table with his 21-year-old student, Johnny, and Johnny's younger brother, Jack. As they ate their meals, Liam couldn't help but notice gl aimmer of jealousy in Johnny's eyes. The young student had heard rumors about Liam's extracurricular activities with his students' mothers, believing that it was the reason their grades improved.

Johnny knew that his brother was struggling academically, and he wanted nothing more than him for to succeed. Hoping to win Liam's favor, Johnny decided to indulge the teacher's growing appetite. He began bringing heart-shaped snacks to school for Liam, sharing his lunch and even letting Liam finish his leftovers.

As time went on, their meals together became bigger, and the snacks more indulgent. Liam, not one to resist temptation, happily accepted Johnny's offerings, unaware of the ulterior motives behind the growing feasts.

Month after month passed, and Liam's waistline continued to expand. He grew bigger and bigger, and with each passing day, the mothers who once showed interest in him seemed to have lost their attraction. Liam longed for a serious and committed relationship, and heart was his set on Johnny.

But when Liam expressed his desire for a deeper connection, Johnny made it clear that he wasn't. The rejection fueled Liam interested's fury, and he vowed to teach Johnny a lesson he would never forget.

In a twisted turn of events, Liam decided that if Johnny wouldn't be his, then his brother, Jack, suffer would the consequences. Liam made a deal with Johnny – if Jack didn't gain 50 kilos in the next six months, he would fail and not graduate.

Johnny, desperate to ensure his brother's success, reluctantly agreed. Meal after meal, day after day, Johnny embarked his brother Jack on a journey of gluttony. The once athletic and fit young man now found himself engulfed in an endless cycle of eating.

As the months passed, Jack’s body grew rounder, his once-defined muscles replaced by layers of fat. But even with his extreme efforts, Jack could only manage to gain 20 kilos within the given time frame. Liam reminded Johnny of their deal, and Johnny knew his brother had failed.

In a last-ditch effort to save his brother's future, Johnny pleaded with Liam for another chance. Liam agreed, but this time, the tables were turned. Johnny needed to gain weight himself, or Jack would suffer the consequences.

Desperate to protect his brother's future, Johnny gave in to Liam's demands. Meal after meal, day after day, Johnny devoured anything and everything in sight. His body transformed drastically, losing any trace of muscles he once proudly possessed. Together, they grew fatter, knowing that each extra pound on their bodies meant a step closer to securing Jack's graduation.

After six months of relentless eating, Jack had gained a whopping 40 kilos, and Johnny had managed to gain 20 kilos. They had reached their goal, but at a great cost. Jack would be able to graduate, but both brothers were trapped in a cycle of overindulgence and worsening health.

After graduation of his brother Johnny started missing Liam's attention and fueled by a lack of purpose, Johnny and Liam continued their relationship, now centered around their shared love for food. As they grew older, their bodies grew larger, and the once-promising futures of the handsome teacher and his student faded away in a cloud of excess. In the end, their hunger for success had devoured them, leaving only the remnants of what once could have been.

#fictionalweightgain #maleweightgain #maleweightgainstories #weightgain #weightgainstories #fictionalstories #wg fantasy #wg fiction

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picklepie888 · 1 year

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Dracula Mischaracterization Drinking Game

Sit down and watch the Dracula adaptation(s) of your choice, and take a drink anytime these common mischaracterizations occur.

Jonathan

Is combined with Renfield

Dies at the beginning

Is made into a generic male hero

Is a toxic partner to Mina

Barely has any presence at all

Never goes to Transylvania

Is made to be aggresive and "manly"

Mina

Is Dracula's love interest/reincarnated wife

Is indifferent to or hates Jonathan and/or Lucy

Is made into a one-note damsel in distress

Has none of her original intelligence

Is only there as "moral support" for the men

Is a prize to be won by the men

Is swapped with Lucy

Is married to someone other than Jonathan

Dies as a vampire or remains a vampire in the end

Dumps Jonathan for Dracula

Consented to the "Baptisim of Blood"

Jack

Is an old man/same age as Van Helsing

Is Mina's and/or Lucy's father

Isn't friends with Van Helsing or the rest of the Suitor Squad

Is the only present member of the Suitor Squad

Only there to be Lucy's doctor and has no emotional connection to her

Does all the research and work that Mina actually did in the original story

Van Helsing

Is way older or way younger than his original age

Is a badass action hero vampire hunter

Comes from/started a bloodline of famous vampire hunters

Is the only character other than Dracula from the book

Has a first name other than "Abraham"

Has supernatural powers

Is a woman/combined with Sister Agatha

Is the only one who knows Dracula is a vampire and has to prove it to everyone else

Is the one to kill Dracula

Is not Dutch in the slightest

Quincey

Is straight up nonexistent

Is combined with Arthur

Has so little relevancy he might as well not be there

Is British, or anything other than American/Texan

Is a shallow or douchey lover to Lucy

Has a futuristic descendent with more plot relevance than himself

Arthur

Is straight up nonexistent

Is combined with Jack, or Quincey, or Jonathan, or any combination of those

Doesn't contribute or is entirely absent in the staking vampire!Lucy scene

Is Lucy's or Mina's brother

Is a spoiled rich boy who barely contributes to the plot

Lucy

Is swapped/combined with Mina

Is Mina's sister

Is shallow/slutty/bitchy

Is a toxic friend to Mina/secretly hates her

Is framed by the narrative as deserving of her death at the hands of Dracula

Literally asked/invited Dracula to drain from her

Her plotline is ignored/never resolved

Is staked by someone other than Arthur

Is engaged/married to someone other than Arthur

Is actually canonically queer, but she still gets killed

Renfield

Is combined with Jonathan/goes to Transylvania instead of Jonathan

Is the secondary villain/straight up evil

Is way older or way younger than his original age

Remains loyal to Dracula throughout the whole story and never fights/turns on him

Never interacts with Mina

Is shown as "sane" at the beginning

Becomes a vampire at some point

The narrative tries to justify his mistreatment at the hands of Jack

Dracula

Is not "evil," just """misunderstood"""

Is actually the protagonist

His first name is Vlad

Appears and regularly interacts with the other characters throught the story

Is young/handsome/suave

Is here to "liberate" Mina from her "toxic"/"boring" husband

Is combined with Vlad the Impaler/some historical figure

Is obsessed with Mina specifically

Has all queer undertones stripped from him

Is not Romanian/his actor makes no attempt to sound Romanian

Is basically just a characature of Bela Logosi

Only kills the characters who "deserved" to die

Is hurt/killed by exposure to sunlight

Is Van Helsing's arch nemesis

Is friends with Frankenstein's monster

Never turns into anything other than a bat

#dracula daily #dracula #re: dracula #dracula adaptations #dracula daily spoilers #re: dracula spoilers #drinking game #jonathan harker #mina harker #mina murray #jack seward #john seward #abraham van helsing #arthur holmwood #quincey morris #lucy westenra #rm renfield #renfield #count dracula

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comma-tose · 1 month

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Something I noticed that I REALLY don't like is just how much current borderlands seems to be trying to diminish Rhys and Fiona's personalities and achievements.

It started out with Rhys in Borderlands 3, where Vaughn implied he was fake and that they haven't spoken in years for some reason??? Then it happened again in New Tales, where Rhys was written as incompetent, and an awful boss that fires his employees for having ONE bad idea.

It also essentially calls him a warmonger that's focused entirely on profits, and has no moral compass beyond "the almighty dollar". Going as far as to explicitly state that that is literally Atlas's motto.

Aside from all that it also says that Atlas is essentially failing and that Rhys has absolutely no idea what he's doing, which is especially weird considering how in Borderlands 3 it's stated that Promethea is finally starting to do well for itself again, and through Echo logs you hear that even Marcus is impressed with how well Rhys is doing.

So for Rhys we have him losing connection with his best friend and being called an idiot, fake, being mischaracterised as a terrible person that apparently learnt nothing and has regressed as a person to a borderline unrecognisable state.

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

And now we get to Fiona. Since borderlands 3 treats the female protagonist of Tales as if she just doesn't exist, Fiona's story continues in Debt or Alive so...

SPOILER WARNING FOR DEBT OR ALIVE.

Not only is Fiona characterised VERY strangely in the book but they also just give Sasha credit for some of what Fiona does, and Fiona alone tends to be the target of blame in the book. Oh and she gets compared to Handsome Jack for good measure.

To start off with, Fiona doesn't even get her wish from the Vault of the Traveller. She gives it to Sasha, and Sasha wishes for a rare Vaultlander figurine of Typhon DeLeon which is destroyed a couple of chapters later. So not only does Fiona not even get to use her wish but the product of the wish gets destroyed anyway so it's entirely pointless.

Fiona also just decides to not be a vault hunter. That conversation she can have with Rhys SECONDS before this happens, about how it suits her, about how she's sad the adventure is over? It's just ignored. She immediately gives it up because she doesn't want Sasha vault hunting and getting put in danger again. Sure she still likes vault hunting but it is immediately given up. (I could write a whole other post about why this bugs me and I probably will).

Fiona has flaws that are addressed in the books, as they should be, all characters have to have flaws, but she is the only one out of the sisters to have flaws addressed. Sasha's are treated as if they don't exist, even when they're very apparent. Fiona learns to not be overprotective, and that she can't stop Sasha from doing things she wants to BUT Sasha doesn't learn anything. She does impulsive things that endanger both her and Fiona, and her risking their safety for fun or on a whim is just never mentioned. (Again something else I'll definitely talk about in another post).

Fiona is also consistently the one who comes up with the plans in the book, while Sasha is either not doing anything or suggesting they take the easy way out. Fiona is the one to start removing the debt cuffs from people while Sasha stands there bewildered, asking what she's doing. Fiona is the one to come up with the plan to scam the billionaires so that they can use the money to free everyone from debt while Sasha suggests just funding Gaige's revenge scheme (and assumedly just abandoning the people in debt??). And Fiona is the one to figure out how to get into Holloway's panic room and save everyone.

Fiona having her moments to shine would be great if they consistently didn't end with her being called an idiot, getting badly hurt, failing, or at one point being compared to Handsome Jack of all people. (Additional point: Sasha doesn't even defend her when she's compared to Jack, which is weird and very out of character.)

This might be petty but the book also gives credit to Sasha for Fiona surviving Bossanova's murder rally in Tales. Which is really weird considering Sasha and Fiona were separated during the entirety of that event. So instead of mentioning a time where Sasha actually helped save Fiona, like in the bio-dome when she was caught by Finch and Kroger, I guess they're actively retconning an event to give Sasha the credit. For some reason.

Fiona also has to confront Sasha about how she's treating Rhys, but then like a chapter later she literally apologises for all that, despite having every right to call Sasha out for that. So again Sasha's flaws are not being recognised as actual flaws and instead it's Fiona who's somehow in the wrong and Sasha learns nothing. Sure by the end of the book she considers Rhys her boyfriend but she is never the one to tell him. Fiona is, because Sasha just doesn't bother to, because it never treats her as someone who has to grow as a person. Sasha is usually either just used as a plot device to progress things or just doing almost nothing while being given credit, instead of being developed like a proper character. I'd call her a shell of what Tales Sasha was but even that feels too generous.

I used to really want to see the Tales characters in other borderlands media, but at this point I just dread it. Because why would I want to see my favourite characters being wildly mischaracterised and mistreated by the franchise?

#borderlands #tales from the borderlands #tftbl #fiona the con artist #rhys strongfork #fiona tftbl #rhys the company man #debt or alive #bl3 #ntftbl #At this point i feel like gearbox just actually despises Tales and its characters #gearbox when i catch you #This was a rant but like i feel like it was valid one

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tkachukz · 1 year

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Fake Dating, Sunflower - Jack Hughes

Summary: When Jack is tired of his friends' comments about him never having a girlfriend and asks his best friend to be his fake date for a week.

Words: 5,5 K

Winter made New Jersey beautiful, and you were grateful you'd picked a coat warm enough to handle the cold. The icy wind was cut as soon as you entered the great arena, hearing the sound of blades cutting the ice from afar.

Jack waved at you as soon as he saw you, heading towards one of the ice exits to greet you with a awkward hug over the top of the bleachers.

“Too cold outside?” he said with a big smile, his cheeks slightly red.

"Only to the point of making me freeze."

"Twenty more minutes of training and I'm good to go"

“Don't worry, I brought company” the book Pride and Prejudice was present in your backpack.

Practice lasted another half hour, but you didn't care. How could you, considering you was tucked away from the cold, with a wonderful book in hand and hot tea served by a kindly woman.

Many of the players had already left when Jack arrived. He wore a heavy jacket over his suit. With the points of his hair still wet from shower, he made sure to shake his head as soon as he was close enough.

“I could kill you right now” you said drying the cover of your book.

“You couldn’t, who would offer you a ride home?”

“I'm sure I would find someone. Ready to go?"

"Clear. Some boys are going to go to that pub at the end of the street. If you want".

“I think it's the least for wetting my book” you walked towards the exit.

“Just a few drops” he positioned himself in front of the door, holding the handle “ready?”

“Arg. Yes” with the hood over your head and holding your breath, you surrendered leaving the warm comfort of the arena, with Jack accompanying you while laughing.

The pub was busy, and Jack guided you to the back, where Nico and other teammates were.

“Yn! Good to see you” you greeted everyone and sat down next to Jack.

“Fries for you?” you nodded in agreement.

You and Jack met about a year ago.

You were trying to make your ex boyfriend jealous and a lonely handsome boy sitting at the bar seemed perfect. You shared your plan and Jack accepted because he thought it would be fun. But at the end of the night, your goal had been achieved, but you didn't even remember it after so long talking to Jack. It turned out that you had a lot in common, both of you having a big family, your connection to hockey - your two younger brothers were in the junior league and were obsessed with your friend - among many other things.

You became friends that day and that friendship has only grown over the months. And although many people hinted at things, it was really friendship.

I mean, you've already found yourself imagining what it would be like if that happened, but you were too focused on college to think about it and, well, if Jack wanted something, he would have dropped a hint after all this time, right?

The conversation at the table was lively, and you already knew the players long enough to be able to interact with everyone, the quietest one, however, was your best friend.

Jack snorted for the third time as he looked at his phone and then put it in his pocket angrily.

“Okay, want to tell me what's going on?”

He snorted once more and you rolled your eyes.

"I'm meeting the boys at the lake house this weekend"

“You guys are crazy to go there in this cold” you said imagining all that cold water, getting a stern look from Jack “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, keep going honey why are you mad?”

He pressed his lips together and let out a “it’s humiliating” sigh.

“I already took care of you while drunk, I think I can handle it” you shrugged.

“Well, last time we were there, the boys were talking about girls they get with and...”

“I don’t know if I want to hear this”

“No, not like that,” he said quickly, “they talk about the girls they've dated, they've all had at least one girlfriend, and Brock manages to put together a whole line of hockey with exes. Meanwhile, I stayed there just existing” he let out a sigh.

“Even Luke! My little brother Luke once had a girlfriend! Okay that lasted a month, but still. Do you think there's something wrong with me?"

The question caught you off guard “Of course no Jack! It's okay that you've never had a girlfriend, you're still young!"

“You're younger than me and you also had a boyfriend” he looked at you from the corner of his eye.

“And I ended up with a pair of horns on my head” you shrug making him laugh “it's not a problem that you've never dated Jack, you just haven't found the right person yet” you said sincerely, stroking his arm. Your eyes stayed locked on his for a few seconds, until Nico, who was sitting in front of you, and apparently listening to the whole conversation, decided to speak up.

“Why don't you take a fake girlfriend?”

"What?" you spoke in unison.

“Yeah, take someone, tell them you've been with her for like two or three months and they stop bothering you” he shrugged.

“They are my best friends and two of them my brothers, do you think they wouldn't notice if I had a girlfriend? And two months? I clearly would have said something by now.” Jack leaned his elbows on the table.

“So you say it was more recent. About a month ago, you fell in love with a friend and boom” Nico made an explosion noise.

“Boom?” you couldn't hold back your laughter.

“Come on, are you going to tell me that lately you haven't mentioned any friends to them? Someone they haven't met yet who would surely believe you fell head over heels in love with her because she's beautiful.” Nico also leaned his elbows on the table with a sneaky look.

Your attention on the conversation was being shared with your delicious orange juice and you only realized that something was going on when you looked up and the two boys were looking at you “what is it?”.

"You could be my fake girlfriend" Jack spoke a little clouded.

"What??" you dropped the juice on the table.

“It would be perfect! I already mentioned Yn to the boys, but they never got to know each other!” Jack turned to Nico.

“Today is still Wednesday, you can say something like I have a surprise for you at the weekend and when you get there, boom!!” Nico was excited.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” you stared at the two of them as if they were crazy.

“The details of how you fell in love can be discussed by then” Nico apparently felt very proud of the plan.

“You can't be serious” You grabbed Jack's arm and he had a grin from ear to ear.

"Please"

"No?"

“Little please with many hearts”

"No yet"

“Come on, you owe me a fake date” he arched his eyebrows making you roll your eyes.

You pondered. A trip would be a great distraction, you enjoyed Jack's company and always wanted to meet his brothers. However, you knew that something like that could scramble feelings that you never considered and the idea of losing your best friend scared you.

“Okay” you say in defeat, receiving a tight hug from Jack, while Nico smiles victoriously across the table.

“Don't forget to grab bikinis” Jack's voice rang loudly in your apartment as you went through your suitcase.

“Bikinis? In this cold? Are we going to another hemisphere without my knowing?”

He rolled his eyes, leaning against the doorframe "the house has a jacuzzi, it's fun"

“Okay, bikinis...” you turned to the wardrobe.

“Get a nice one”.

“Get out of my room” he raised his hands in surrender and walked back.

The bags were already being loaded into the car when you started wringing your hands. Three days ago Jack had asked you to be his fake girlfriend in front of his friends and brothers for an entire weekend, and you'd be lying if you said you slept soundly all night.

Jack eyed the trunk, satisfied with his meticulous packing, but his smile faded when he saw how nervous you were.

He approached slowly, holding your hands close to his chest "you can quit if you want".

"What?" you answered too quickly and Jack's smile faded a little more.

“You can quit. Sorry if you felt pressured to do this. I don't want a fake girlfriend if my best friend is going to start hating me” he gave a small smirk and you took a deep breath.

“I would never hate you” you said sincerely “and I won't give up!! And I promise I'll be the best fake girlfriend you'll ever have!!!"

Jack's smile came back bright as you took a deep confident breath with a giant grin.

“You are without a doubt the best friend in the world” he said, and you hated yourself for feeling your smile fall a little.

The sun was at its peak when you and Jack arrived at the house. The weather was still freezing, but not as cold as Jersey. Your eyes circled the place enchanted by every detail. He'd already shown you pictures of the place, but in person, it looked even more fun.

"What do you think?"

“It's prettier than the pictures” you said with a smile still admiring the place.

Jack carried your bags inside and you followed him down the many corridors “the boys must have taken the boat out, come on, let's put the bags in the room”.

The room was on the second floor, and had access to a small balcony. The walls were blue and scattered with photos, mostly of Jack. Him with his friends, playing hockey, with his family and...

“Do you have a picture of us?” a small Polaroid you didn't even remember taking off was stuck next to a small sunflower sticker.

“It was the first time you came to my game” Jack walked over.

“And the sunflower...”

“Your favorite flower” he scratched the back of his head nervously, but you didn't see it as you were too focused on the photo.

Jack opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of the boat's horn stopped him.

You followed him outside the house, watching the boys tie up the boat and run towards you.

You felt Jack's hand on your waist, pulling you closer. He looked down and gave you a little wink, as you felt confident to wrap your arms around his waist as well.

“I don't believe it” the first boy arrived with his mouth open, looking between you and Jack.

“Well, believe me my dear friend Trevor. This is Yn” Jack had a smile from ear to ear as he greeted his friend with a hug, pointing to you right after.

“Hi” your cheeks flushed as Trevor greeted you with a warm hug ignoring your outstretched hand.

"Okay, you can stop hugging my girlfriend now" Jack patted him on the back.

"I never thought the word girlfriend would come out of your mouth" Quinn approached, offering you a hand, which you accepted gently.

"Fate is playful" Jack shrugged.

“Jack talks about you all the time, but I thought you were just friends. I'm Brock, and this is Elias, nice to meet you” The blonde approached with a smile and this time it was Jack who felt his cheeks flush.

“Yeah, well, I realized after a while that I wanted more than friendship,” he says confidently, walking back to you.

“And how was that specifically?” Luke, the younger brother who had greeted you with a hug asked a curious question.

“He got jealous of me with someone else” you respond after realizing that Jack has stalled.

"How cute Jack" Trevor said smiling.

“Poor cute, you thought you'd lose me” an amused smile tumbles from your mouth when you notice that Jack's cheeks are reddening.

"You're right. When I thought of her dating someone else, I freaked out.”

“And ran to my apartment with the intention of making a romantic gesture,” you continue, enjoying the idea of making him shy.

“In a very manly way”

“With a giant bouquet of flowers” his friends seem to be amused by the idea of him being romantic.

“A very manly bouquet” he tries.

“Of sunflowers”.

He rolls his eyes "they're your favorite".

A sincere laugh leaves your lips and he follows you.

You reach for his cheek, standing on tiptoe to place a small kiss on the spot, while he still has one hand on your waist, caressing it with his fingertips.

Butterflies emerge in your stomach and you feel your leg wobble.

“Ew, it's good. We already understand that you are in love” Elias says making you two come back to reality.

“So tell me, how are you guys?” Jack addressed the question to the group, who continued talking until they reached some benches near the lake.

Jack guided you all the way, still with his hand firmly on your waist, positioning you to sit next to him on the couch. You spent hours talking, the boys treated each other like brothers and were always very polite in trying to include you in the conversation.

After watching the sunset by the lake, you decided to go inside for a shower and dinner.

The kitchen smelled of pasta and sauce when you came downstairs, your hair still wet.

Quinn was in charge of the stove; Elias, Brock and Jack were making the pizza dough and Luke and Trevor were waiting, they would be responsible for putting the pizza together.

"We could go a lot faster if I helped" Trevor complained, clearly bored.

"Don't you dare go near the stove" Quinn said without taking his eyes off the pot.

"And you would never have the skills to do this" Jack said, tossing the flattened pizza dough up, rolling it around on his finger, and returning it to the counter in a perfect circle.

“Wow” you blurted out and watched as six pairs of eyes turned towards you.

“Impressed?” Jack teased, wiping some of the flour off his hands on a napkin.

"I am. You never told me you knew how to do that.”

"Lie! I already cooked for you"

“True! But you never made pizza” you pouted while Jack laughed and leaned a little closer.

"Guilty. I promise to do it when we get back to Jersey.”

“Pinky promise?” you lift your pinky and Jack does so without batting an eye, placing a small kiss on your hand.

"Promise".

The boys had slowly returned to their duties while you and Jack talked. The butterflies in your stomach grew more euphoric with every smile Jack gave. He was always very smiley, but today he looked different.

“Hey, you two, enough flirting and get back to work. Jack, you still have more dough to make, and Yn, if you don't mind sweetener, could you cut the cheese?" Quinn gave the orders with his hands on his hips.

“Yes boss” you and Jack said together by chance going each to a counter.

"Is not fair! Yn just arrived and already has a mission!?” Trevor complained again.

The conversation was animated in the preparation and assembly of the pizzas, which were delicious.

Jack and you were in charge of the dishes, and while some were tidying up the kitchen, others were preparing the room for a little movie session.

"I wash and you dry" Jack said four dishes ago, you didn't object.

“Tonight has been great” a smile graced your silly lips.

"Yes! They adored you, you're doing great being a fake girlfriend” Jack winked at you and you nodded.

"You're also a great fake boyfriend."

You lost track of time as it got dark. The boys had a long argument to choose the movie and when they did, your tiredness got the better of you.

You're not sure when you fell asleep, but you knew you were comfortable.

Your head was resting on Jack's shoulder, who had his arms behind your back. He had a sweaty smell of shower, and with the little caresses he made on your back, you felt extremely comfortable and safe.

But not prepared for Luke's scream, when apparently some character died.

“I think I'll go to bed” your voice came out through a yawn as your heart was still beating fast.

After a chorus of goodnight and sorrys -and a peck on the cheek from Jack- you finally made it upstairs.

You were finishing getting dressed when Jack walked into the room, his eyes covered.

"It's safe?"

“Yep” you said as soon as you finished putting your pajama top over your head, making your friend open his eyes “is the movie over yet?”

"Not yet, but I'm tired from the trip, and Luke hasn't stopped complaining since the character died."

You watch as Jack locks the door, and takes a blanket from the trunk, spreading it over the foot of the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Don't worry, you can have the bed, I sleep on the floor."

You'd be lying if you said this didn't make you slightly upset.

And you would be lying if said that you hadn't doubled the amount of cream you had applied to your body.

And maybe perfume.

“Ah”

Jack glared at you "Are you scared of monsters by any chance?" the provocative tone present.

“No” you rolled your eyes.

“Don't worry honey, I'm here to protect you if you need it” he said showing off his muscles.

"My hero!" you said with a laugh, turning off the light.

The moonlight came through a part of the curtain, making the room a beautiful color.

You snuggled under the covers while Jack took off his shirt, and you remembered that he had once commented that he slept like this. The temperature in the room seemed to rise and you closed your eyes quickly before he caught your eye.

Heavy knocking on the door made you jump up. Jack was still sleeping, face down, and he didn't seem to mind the louder and louder knocking.

“Are they still sleeping?” whispers through the door, sounding like Trevor's voice.

"Doesn't Luke have a key to this room?"

You reached for the nearest pillow throwing it at your unconscious friend who jumped up, facing your desperate eyes and the noise at the door.

He hurried to his feet, throwing the covers under the bed, and erasing any traces that he had slept on the floor. He tried to straighten his tangled hair, heading towards the door, still shirtless.

“May I know why the hell you guys are making such a racket at this time of the morning?” he opened the door wide enough to see the boys but made sure they couldn't see you.

"Room service" Trevor's voice sounded excited.

“Is Yn awake yet?” Brock appeared to try to enter the room, but Jack held the door steady.

“My girlfriend is still in her pajamas and you are crazy if you think I would let you see her like that”

Damn butterflies.

Jack went into the hallway and closed the door, returning a few seconds later "I told them we'd be down in a few minutes so they could get off my back, but you can take as many minutes as you want".

He turned to you, walking towards the bed and climbing on it, sitting next to you.

“I'm sorry about them, I promise they won't try to get in the room again” he says with a small smile holding your hand, which only then you realize was tightly gripped in the blanket.

Jack places a small kiss on the top of her head, and once again the feeling of security invades you.

“I can't believe you guys came all this way to play hockey” your voice was indignant as Jack pulled you towards a large open air ice rink.

“We're hockey players honey” he said amused.

“Yn, what size are your skates?” Quinn turned to you.

"I...I think I'll just watch"

“How disrespectful.” Trevor looked offended.

“I don't know how to skate, but it's ok I...”

The looks of shock went from you to Jack in a matter of seconds.

"Didn't you teach your girlfriend how to skate???"

"What's your problem??"

"Mom would be disappointed."

“He already tried to teach me, I'm just very resistant” you felt on a mission to save your friend.

"And I'm still going to teach her" Jack said confidently.

“Maybe one day” you nodded, as the boys headed towards the ice.

You followed Jack to the edge of the ice, where the other boys were, too, turning to him with a bouncy smile.

“Score a goal for me darling?”

He laughed "honey, you deserve nothing less than a hat trick".

You watched the first few minutes of the game, trying to be a competent fake girlfriend, but you fell into your book a while later, still on the edge of the ice. The boys formed a team and were playing with other boys, it seemed to have formed an interesting match.

Jack passed by you several times, to celebrate goals or try to splash ice on you.

Minutes of what should have been the second half, a boy also on the outside of the ice approached.

"What are you reading?"

“Pride and Prejudice” you lifted the cover.

“Great book, and much better movie. I'm Dylan, nice to meet you” he held out his hand.

“I don't trust anyone who thinks the film is better. I'm Yn” you shook his hand, he laughed.

“Interesting activity being right in front of an ice rink. Don't you know how to skate?

"No. And you, why aren't you there?

Dylan's response get lost in the cloud of ice hurled at him.

“Jack!”

“Oops, my bad. I had to stop,” he said with a cynical smile, taking off his glove and holding out his hand to Dylan, who had ice in his hair, “I'm Jack Hughes”.

"Dylan".

"Nice, Dylan, apparently you've already met my girlfriend Yn."

"Girlfriend? Now it makes sense,” Dylan murmured.

"What did you say?" Jack moved forward and you put yourself in front.

"Hey!? He was just being nice.”

"He was trying to hit on other people's girlfriends" Jack glares at the boy who has already run off.

"No, he was not."

“You are too naive to understand.”

"What?"

“You never notice when someone hits on you Yn!” he yelled “they can do anything but you don't realize it!”

Jack ran a hand through his hair in a frustrated manner and you instinctively took a step back.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you I just..."

You turned your back and walked away, ignoring the call of your best friend and the other boys. The fact that they were on roller skates favored you, making it possible for you to get home before them, and lock yourself in your room.

Jack's outburst caught you off guard, you had never heard him scream, especially with you. Inevitable tears flowed from your eyes. These last few days had been a tangle of emotions and you felt overwhelmed.

Light knocks on the door “it's me” Jack's voice echoes through the lock.

"I don't want to talk right now."

Your voice cracks, and Jack feels his heart sink when he realizes you're crying. Worse. Upon realizing he made you cry.

“I shouldn't have yelled at you Yn, I'm so sorry” his voice is also muffled; he is sitting on the floor, his forehead resting against the door.

"All I did this weekend was help you Jack."

"I know. I'm an idiot” the pain in his voice was audible.

A long silence hangs in the air, making her sobs seem louder.

“I bought you a present” he says still in a whisper “it's in the second drawer, on the right. It's the black box.”

You hold back for a few seconds, but curiosity overcomes you. You open two wrong drawers before the right one, but finally find a small black box, looking like an intruder in the middle of so much hockey stuff. A sob leaves your throat as you open it to find a delicate sunflower pendant.

"It was supposed to be a surprise" Jack says with a sigh.

“When did you buy this?” you felt your voice waver.

"What?"

“Did you buy this week?” your heart was sinking “tell me you didn't buy this this week. Tell me you didn't buy it just to show your friends that you know how to gift your fake girlfriend! That you're more than the kind of boy who changes when he's in front of his friends! You are making me confuse the whole weekend!" you shouted in a shaky voice.

“I've had this for months” Jack let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes tightly “you've always been true to me Yn, you just never realized it.”

Silence reigned for minutes, which became hours.

You were grateful for the door, since without it, Jack would find you in a sorry state.

Unaware of how much time had passed, you heard another knock on the door.

"I don't want to talk Jack."

"It's Quinn" your heart jumped "let me in please".

You pondered for a moment, but staggered to the door, opening it for the older brother.

“I thought you needed food” he held up a bag, which looked like it had bread and juice “can I come in?”

You nodded giving him room, your stomach rumbling as you opened the bag.

"What time is it?"

"Midnight. You were locked in here for nearly seven hours.”

"My hair must look ridiculous."

Quinn let out a small laugh through his nose, sighing shortly after.

“I know about you and Jack.”

"What?" you almost choked.

"Jack is my little brother, I know him better than anyone. And I knew that if he had gotten a chance with you, he would have told me right away, not a month later."

“A chance with me?” your head was spinning and you ate another bread.

“Did you really never notice?” Quinn looked at you with a certain admiration and curiosity, while you disagreed.

“He liked you from the day you met. The Devils had lost that day and he was on a losing streak, his mood was sour than lemon, but after meeting you, he came home grinning like an idiot. I remember him saying that he was so stunned that he had forgotten to ask for your phone number..."

“I always wondered how he found me”

"He knew your college, and he knew your last name, so he looked through the list of approved until he found it."

“But should they have like a millions names?”

"Was a long night" Quinn let out a smile "he let out a scream when he found your Instagram, and when you followed him back."

“He was always talking about you to me. Always. When we traveled, he always thought of a little souvenir to bring you, and I lost count of how many times we stayed behind because he wanted to take a picture of everything.”

“The Hughes family travel vlogs starring Jack Hughes” you mimicked the voice you knew by heart and Quinn laughed.

"He recorded it at least five times to make sure it was good."

“Why has he never asked me out?” you rambled.

Quinn shrugged, “He's Jack. He never went into detail with me, but I remember him mentioning once that you had a bad relationship with your ex and that you were trying to focus on your studies now. I think he just was afraid of losing you.”

You felt little tears forming in your eyes remembering moments of you and Jack.

When he listened to you for hours telling about your love misadventures, your deepest scars.

When he took you in when you broke down and went to buy you a big tub of ice cream.

When he heard you say you were tired of suffering for love.

When you fell asleep on the couch and woke up warm and comfortable in bed. When you got sick and he left practice early just to check on you.

Jack's smile when you showed up to watch him on the ice, or wore one of his shirts.

When he smiled at you and you felt your heart stop.

And those damn butterflies.

"Where is he?"

The clock was past one in the morning and the night was cold.

Jack had his eyes closed, feeling the warm water of the Jacuzzi under the moonlight.

You approached slowly admiring the scene. He was shirtless, and looked relaxed, his body moving slowly with the water.

“Are you alone?” your voice was muffled.

Jack gave a small smirk, eyes still closed.

You walked around the jacuzzi, sitting on the stairs, right across from Jack.

He opened his eyes, analyzing you for a few seconds. You were wearing a heavy winter coat, and you smelled like vanilla and after-bath, with a high bun.

“I'm sorry” his gaze was intense.

“Me too” a small smile came out of your mouth, being reciprocated.

You took a deep breath, putting your legs in the tub. Jack's eyes shot to them instantly, your skin reflecting the blue of the water.

“I don't regret it,” he said, looking back into your eyes.

"What?"

“From this weekend. Of having you as my fake girlfriend for a while. Was cool".

A small smile came out of your mouth “I could have been your real girlfriend if you had had the guts to ask.”

The tension was electrifying.

Jack took a deep breath, putting his arms out of the jacuzzi, looking at you in a different way. Desire.

You took off your coat, revealing your body in a black bikini, which you had felt stupid packing to go visit somewhere cold, but now you were nothing short of grateful.

Jack let out a heavy breath, and gripped the edge of the pool as he watched your entire body submerge.

"Now, I'm slightly sorry" he accompanied you glazed, while you walked slowly closer to him.

“The weekend isn't over yet” your smile was relaxed as you stopped right in front of him, who was sitting, making his knees touch your belly.

“Hi, I'm Y/n. Nice to meet you".

“You are unique” Jack grabbed your waist with one hand, pulling you onto his lap.

The kiss was desperate. A prize won after an agonizing wait.

His tongues engaged in a hot battle as he had his hands all over your body, pulling you close. Between caresses, you let out a smile.

“Look how interesting, you will be able to introduce your real girlfriend to your brothers and your friends tomorrow”

Jack lets out a smile as he kisses your neck "I wish you the best of luck, they really liked the last one, it's going to be a tough competition".

You couldn't hold back a hearty laugh. And Jack found himself admiring you bright smile, going down your neck seconds later.

He starts tracing the silver chain, until it went down towards your breasts, where a delicate yellow sunflower was.

"Did you like it?"

You felt your cheeks flush "you get lucky, they're kinda my favorite".

Your heart melted as you moved closer for one more kiss.

And it was like that all night.

#jack hughes #jack hughes fic #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes fluff #jach hughes #jack hughes imagine #quinn hughes #jack hughes blurb #luke hughes #trevor zegras #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic

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luveline · 1 year

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could i request teacher!reader with hotch? like maybe she’s jacks teacher

thank you for your request! fem!reader, 1.2k

You're a teacher: you're always tired. Overworked, underpaid, everybody knows how it goes. And maybe you've let yourself go because you don't have any real material hopes for the future beyond getting Macy Danish to read at a first grade level, but how were you supposed to know that Jack Hotchner's father would be so overwhelmingly attractive? It's not fair.

He's handsome though older than you'd been expecting, but that isn't the cut and dry of it. When he comes in, it's alone, in a well-fitted suit. He's tall and remarkably dark-eyed, shaking your hand without trying to impose any authority, as some of the fathers tend to do, and when you call him Mr. Hotchner, he says, "Aaron, please," but continues to call you Ms. L/N.

"Aaron," you say, pulling your skirt under your thighs as you sit down. You're dressed in nice clothes for the parent-teacher conferences, but you could've covered your sleeplessness better. "Jack is the nicest boy in class. He's actually my loveliest kid. Um…" You search through your notes for the preliminary assessment of Jack. "Sorry, two seconds."

"Take your time. I know what it's like to dig through a mountain of paperwork every day."

"Jack mentioned you work in the government, he calls you a special agent," you say, smiling. "You get the bad guys."

"I am a special agent. Supervisory." Aaron is conscientious enough to pretend he doesn't notice your surprise. "I'm chief of the behavioural analysis unit."

You can't even begin to guess what that entails. "Oh," you say breathlessly.

"I understand that it sounds fantastical."

"It sounds impressive," you say, floundering to correct yourself. Behavioural analysis? It must be obvious to him how nervous he's making you, then, and when you realise that, you get worse. "I'm so sorry about this. I should be more organised. I usually am."

"That's alright. Take your time."

Does he always speak that way? His voice is like fucking silk? Is he messing with you?

You yank the notes you made for Jack from the pile and flatten them across the desk. "Okay, sorry. Like I was saying, Jack is really the nicest kid, him and his friend Molly. They're both lovely, and teachers shouldn't have favourites, please don't tell the other parents, but they're my favourites." You smile at him quickly and return your eyes to the paper. The words swim in front of your eyes. "Jack can read better than you could ever hope for a first grader, he's immensely intelligent for his age group. He's patient. He'll explain anything to anyone if they ask him too, and he does it well."

"I'm glad to hear that," he says, again so softly.

You pick up one of your skinny biros to have something to fidget with. He's a very good looking man, but you're a good teacher. You can focus on what to say. Some parents need good things only. Some need reassurement that they're doing a good job. Aaron is harder to read, but you know what he needs, too.

"He can be lonely," you say, looking him in the eye. "I don't think that that's down to any fault. I'm sure you know better than I do why he might feel that way." You know about his mom's passing over a year ago. You've seen grief in children too many times. "He… I understand if this isn't okay with you, but he eats lunch with me sometimes. I encourage him to sit with his peers, of course, but I think he runs out of energy pretty quickly."

Aaron nods thoughtfully. His brows quirk into a furrow that you're afraid is directed at you.

"I don't think he necessarily has trouble connecting with his friends."

"What do you think?"

"I think something awful happened to your family, and Jack will feel it for the rest of his life, but that it won't stop him from being great. It already isn't. And… he clearly has a father who loves him and who he admires. You're his second favourite topic."

"What's his first?" he asks.

"He's really into Fruity Fridays," you say with a laugh. "I bring in fruits you don't get often in America. Someone would've had to sign a form."

"No, I remember signing it. He likes that?" His smile is golden. "I can't get him to try new things."

"He had all the leftover gold kiwi last week." You rub your lips together. Time is ticking. You have nearly thirty parents to see tonight, but talking to Mr. Hotchner has been so normal. He's a regular person in a sea of inattentive helicopter narcissists. It's a relief and a half to meet him and know a kid as gentle as Jack is in good hands. "Mr. Hotchner, I have to tell you, I'm really relieved to meet you."

"Aaron," he corrects.

Your tone drops too low. "Aaron."

"I'm more than relieved," he says. "I knew that this year would be harder for him. I didn't know… I'm grateful to you, for being so kind with him."

You look down at your notes, flushed from head to toe despite your airy skirt. Crossing your legs, you shake your head. "It's my job."

"To let him take up the only break you get all day?" he asks.

"It's not like that. Jack doesn't bother me." You fold your notes in half. "I can see his role model measures up."

"I could say the same thing."

The next time you see Jack, bright and early Monday mooring shepherded by his aunt Jessica, he's very happy to see you. You offer him a hug and pat his back when he wraps his arms around your hips. "Hello, Jack. Was your dad pleased with your drawings?"

Jack smiles at you. "I have a note for you."

"You do? Can I see? Where is it, honey?"

Jack takes off his backpack and pulls out the note and a tupperware container. "Oh, wow, did you make treats for the class? Jack, that's so nice!"

"No. Dad said those are for you. He said you should have nice for nice, or something," Jack informs you.

"You'll share with me, though? I can't eat them all by myself," you whisper.

He nods with enthusiasm and runs off to put his backpack in his cubby and his coat on the hook. You look down at the cookies and note, which is actually an envelope.

You open it with your thumbnail. The writing is Aaron's usual tight cursive.

Dear Miss L/N,

I hoped to thank you again in person, but work makes that hard. I appreciate everything you do for Jack. There are teachers who work, and there are teachers who go above and beyond. I can feel confident anywhere in the country knowing Jack is being taught by the latter.

Gratefully yours,

Aaron Hotchner.

P.S. Please don't feed Jack too many cookies. They're not for him.

You keep the letter even if it's lame to do so. When is the next parent teacher conference, anyways?

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