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lovebugism · 11 months ago

Note

thigh riding Carmy because he isn't paying attention to you please please please 😭

summary: carmy misses date night and finds a way to work and make you feel good at the same time (2.2k)

pairing: carmy berzatto / f!reader

contents: established relationship, thigh riding, public setting (ish), dirty talk, smut with sprinkles of fluff 18+

Carmy’s office is a windowless concrete cage of chaos. There are a million papers stacked and scattered across his desk, half-hidden beneath books that are flipped open to random pages. You’re not sure how he’s keeping up with any of it. Though, to be fair, you’ve never been able to completely understand his mind.

You know him better than anyone else, but he’s still such a mystery to you sometimes — like a language you can read perfectly but can’t speak all the way.

You don’t know why he runs himself aground with work even though it kills him, even though he swears the enormity of his desire brings him back to life again. You just know to try and save the drowning man from himself from time to time, and not to let him strangle you with his panic in the process.

“Bear?” you call gently into the amber-lit office, knuckles rapping against the opened door. “You ready?”

Sitting slouched over his desk, you can hear the faint tap tap tapping of his pen against the paper, an anxious tick for his ever-fidgeting fingers. “No. Not— Not yet, baby. I’m fuckin’— I’m drowning in this paperwork right now.”

He lifts his heavy head from his tattooed hand and glances at you over his shoulder. The sight of you makes his breath catch — leaning against the doorframe, all pretty in the lamplight, wearing the dress he bought you.

The deep emerald silk drips over your body like summer rain. It dips low at your chest and flows just above your knees, fitting you like a total dream.

Carmy, for a flicker of a moment, forgets to be anxious.

While his eyes dart over your form, the rest of the world disappears — it could be entirely falling apart for all he knows, but all he can see now is you. Your stormy eyes, your soft skin, and your quiet sensuality. Your ruby lips, your cheeks like wine, and your gentle voice.

His mouth falls agape to say words he can’t make out. His ocean eyes go wide, glimmering a deeper blue in the low light — which casts dark shadows over the sharp edges of his face. His gaze is like the sea. You feel yourself drowning in it accordingly.

“It can’t wait?” you press gently, lifting yourself from the doorframe and sauntering slowly towards him. Closing the door behind you, you drop your chin to your chest and flash the boy a sheepish smile. “All the restaurants are gonna close soon.”

Carmy huffs. He knew better than to plan a date. He’s far too busy — or, rather, he doesn’t allow himself to be anything other than busy because there’s a voice inside him that just won’t be still. Working himself to death was an art he did exceptionally well, which hadn’t bothered him so much until he met you.

“I gotta get this done, babe,” he answers sympathetically, tilting his chin to keep his eyes locked with yours as you near him.

Your familiar scent sets the stagnant air aglow. The warmth of your perfume cradles his senses when you loom beside him. Your hand rises to his shoulder, fingers fidgeting with the swathe of curls at the nape of his neck. His wide palm smooths over your hip — softly calloused against the satiny fabric.

You smile softly down at him. “So I got all pretty for nothin’?” you tease with a scrunched nose.

“Well, you got all pretty for me, actually,” Carmy corrects.

His pink lips curl in a faint smirk. Your grin widens tenfold. The subtle act of possessiveness, coupled with the strong hand on your waist, makes your chest sparkle.

“Yeah, I did,” you hum proudly, bending at the waist to press a chaste kiss to his mouth. He tastes fleetingly of nicotine and sweet plum wine — a maddening concoction.

You rise to full height again. Carmy pats your hip twice before his fingers fall away. He turns back to his desk, and you feel half-invisible again. It’s hardly his fault, though. There was something deeply intense about his stone-blue eyes. You feel strangely held when he looks at you, left inevitably mourning every time he turns away.

His pen darts across the gridded page in chicken scratch you can’t make out, worsened by his wrist smudging the ink. Your arms wrap loosely around his neck. You bury your nose in his chestnut curls and inhale the familiar scent of grill smoke and cedarwood.

“You know I don’t care actually about going out, right?” you mumble there.

Carmy hums, half-distracted. “Mhm.”

“Just wanna spend time with you… Don’t care what we’re doing…”

You press a kiss to his temple. He leans instinctively into your touch. “Well, I’ll make you the best damn PB&J Chicago’s ever seen when we get back home, alright?” he muses with a quiet smile. “How’s that sound?”

“I’m holding you to that, Bear,” you say, grinning into his curls.

“I’m countin’ on it.” Carmy chuckles and lifts his free hand to squeeze your wrist. His touch slips away soon after when he turns back to his work.

Quiet returns, heavy and deafening, filled only by the distant clanging of pots from stragglers in the kitchen. It makes you strikingly aware of yourself — of the space you’re filling in this tiny office, and the distracting weight of your arms around his neck. Feeling more like a burden, you clear your throat and pull away.

“I’m, uh— I’m gonna see if Richie left yet. Maybe he’ll let me bum a smoke or something.”

Carmy mourns your warmth the second you’re gone. He spins in his swivel chair to face you, laughing to cover up his ache. “What happened to us spending time together?”

He knows how you think. You think he gets so involved in his work that he doesn’t spare you a single thought. But really, he’s so strongly devoted to you that it feels like the emotion could rip him open from the inside.

You squint. “Watching you sign a bunch of paperwork while you pretend I’m not here is not spending time together,” you argue, laughing despite yourself.

“Don’t go. C’mon,” Carmy pleads, very distantly begging. He tilts his head and blinks at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Come sit,” he tells you.

“Sit where?” you scoff.

“In my lap.”

“I’ll squish you,” you insist, giggling.

“Shut up and sit down,” he commands, still playful but leaving little room for argument. His wide palms smooth slowly up and down his denim-clad thighs. Your heart lurches into your throat.

You walk the short distance to him with a huff of feigned annoyance, dress swishing around your knees. Carmy pushes away from his desk to give you space to sit. You take a seat on his lap, just like he asked you to, but he stops you with a pair of strong hands grasping your hips.

“Not like that,” he murmurs.

Your brows furrow in response. “What do you mean?”

“On my thigh,” Carmy corrects, swatting playfully at your clothed hip. “C’mon. Sit right.”

You rise slowly, with a hesitant squint in your eyes. “What are you playing at, Bear?” you wonder lowly, legs spread slightly to welcome his thigh between them.

Carmy bounces his shoulder in a lazy shrug. His tattooed hands creep up the hem of your dress to urge you down onto his lap — the proper way. “You’re the one always sayin’ I’m too busy for you, right?” he responds, hardly expecting a real answer, as he helps you straddle one of his thighs.

The angle is awkward. The old chair leaves little room for the both of you. You’re forced to keep one leg on the ground while the other bends at the knee between his legs. You hold tight to his shoulders, trusting him to keep you steady. Your dress bunches at your hips in the meanwhile. Carmy raises his thigh until it’s flush against your clothed cunt.

Your breath catches, and he smirks.

“So… You’re gonna cum on my thigh,” he continues casually. “…And after that, we’ll go home, I’ll fuck you like you need, and then I’ll run you a bath… How’s that sound?”

Your stomach swirls with a familiar warmth — which you can feel pooling in your panties now. “What about the PB&J?” you joke in a quiet voice that trembles only slightly.

Carmy scoffs a faint laugh. “After the bath.”

“What about in the bath?”

“Whatever you want,” he assures with a smile. “You just gotta ride me first.”

The lighthearted air turns bone-crushingly sensual in a flicker of a moment. His light eyes pierce you mercilessly, peering into the depths of your soul. You melt for him, going uncharacteristically soft and subservient, just how he likes.

Carmy helps you with a few passes over his thigh. You’re obviously unsure, and he can tell by your hesitant movements. His free hand squeezes your hip, urging you up his leg and down again, until you find your own rhythm. Then he turns back to his work and tries to focus. The soft sound of your breathy moans entwines with the scribbling of his pen.

You rock your hips in measured thrusts, trying to find the proper pace. The delicate fabric of your panties ruts along the rough denim of his jeans — catching your clit perfectly when you buck your hips just right. Lightning strikes down your spine, then. Both alleviating the ache between your thighs and creating a new one all at once.

Your breath hitches. Pitiful whimpers sound in your throat instead. You bury them all in Carmy’s neck as you hide your face in his shoulder, with your warm cheek pressed to his ear and your fingers balling his shirt in your fists.

There was something foreignly erotic about all this. Being in Carmy’s office, the door unlocked, with Syd and Richie meandering elsewhere in the kitchen. The fear of being caught made your movements quick. Careless. Wild.

And there was something about Carmy, too. The way he’s got you getting yourself off, with little help from the boy himself, while he busies himself with paperwork. You can hear him scribbling away still, flitting through papers with the hand not holding you. All while you hump his thigh, so desperate for attention. It’s pathetic. And something about it made you feel good.

Your pretty whimpers turn into deeper, breathier moans. Carmy smiles to himself. He can feel the warmth of your cunt despite the layers between you. It makes him wonder if you’ve left a stain on the denim. He prays you’ve left a stain on the denim — wants the mark of your honey stamped there forever.

“You close?” he murmurs when he notices your legs starting to tremble.

You bury a whine in his neck. “Fuck, Bear—”

“Hey,” he hums, pulling away from his paperwork for the first time in several minutes to look at you.

His long fingers rise from your hip and curl into your hair. He tugs softly at the strands to urge your head back so he can admire his work. Your eyes are lidded and glassy, your lips swollen and parted — already fucked-out, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“I asked if you were close,” he repeats, unsmiling.

“Yes,” you manage through a whimper.

His grip on your hair slackens. His touch returns to your hip, encouraging your rapid movements. His pink lips quirk in the faintest hint of a smile. “Good,” he praises. “Good girl. Keep going.”

You bury your face in his neck again, lips curling around your teeth to stifle the moans swelling there. Your hips lose their rhythm as the threat of your orgasm grows. Your clit pounds like a second heartbeat. You briefly wonder if Carmy can feel it, and the thought alone sends you reeling.

“Carmy,” you keen, voice wavering. “I’m gonna cum.”

You feel him nod against you. He licks his lips and turns his head. His nose squishes your temple; his wet mouth brushes your ear.

“Do it, then. C’mon,” he mumbles against you, coaxing you closer towards your pleasure — not because he’s a pro at the whole dirty-talking thing, but because he knows how much you like it. “Be a good girl and cum on my thigh. Come on.”

You last two more passes up and down his lap before you tense on top of him. Your hips still as you whimper into his shoulder, shuddering hard when your orgasm washes over you.

“Atta girl,” Carmy praises. “Keep cumming for me.”

He drops his pen and finally turns away from his work. He grips your hips with both hands and works you the rest of the way through your orgasm. You let him, for a few agonizing moments, until your high fades and leaves you achingly sensitive.

You inhale sharply through your nose and reach suddenly for his wrists. “No more,” you plead, then exhale a breathy chuckle.

When you part from his neck, Carmy ducks his head to catch your averted gaze. His wide eyes dart over your pleasure-stricken features. “You good?” he wonders. His words have lost any hint of sensuality. He’s always serious about checking in on you.

You nod and swallow hard. “’M good,” you promise, then freeze when your knee nudges his half-hard cock. “Are you good?” you parrot.

Carmy scoffs a breathy chuckle. “I’m almost done here— go bum a smoke from Richie, alright? I’ll out in a second.”

He kisses you softly. A chaste kiss that’s perhaps too innocuous for such a honeyed moment. You rise on tired legs, and he swats playfully at your side. “How’s that for spending time together, huh?” he calls over his shoulder as you wrench open the office door.

“You’re an idiot, Bear.”

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angellic4l · 5 months ago

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thank you’s - s.r

in which; sunshine!bau!reader is demeaned by an officer on a case and season2!spencer sticks up for her.

content: fem!reader, reader described as having ‘girly’ flair, sexism, mention of blood/bloodstain, mainly fluff, protective spencer, and i think that’s it but lmk.

a/n: i just rawdog it and write on tumblr as a draft so i have 0 clue how many words there are. also, thank you all so much for the love on my first fic, i adore you all. these are my babies now and i hope you love them.

Warm sunlight warms the skin on your back while you’re crouched down at the latest crime scene, examining a bloodstain on the concrete floor. Despite it being November, it’s still considerably warm in Texas, a big contrast to Virginia weather for sure.

Despite official policies about dress code and such, you’re still a fun person, so you like to add your own girly flair to the professional attire you sport almost every single day. It doesn’t harm anybody, it doesn’t break any rules, and it’s cute.

However, pair the cute flair you add to your clothes with your enthusiastic, optimistic, ‘happy go lucky’ personality, and the fact that you’re a woman, and it causes people to make their own assumptions - typically sexist ones.

After doing bloodstain analysis on the red splatter that coats part of the parking lot’s floor, you go to stand up from your crouching position. Mid motion, you spot a small note on the floor, tucked under the wheel of a car. Crime scene analysis requires everything and anything to be processed, and the unsub has yet to make contact with authorities, so you make the decision that it’s worth looking at before motioning for Spencer to come over after seeing him somewhat idle.

He begins to make his way over from the other end of the parking lot as you stay crouching, waiting for him to come over because you don’t have gloves on. What you don’t see after you turn back around is an officer, an average sized male with blonde hair who appears to be slightly older than you, approaching you at the very same time.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’, workin’ for the FBI? You sure yer pretty little brain can handle allathat, darlin’?” A man’s voice; a thick, Texan drawl, coated with a somewhat flirty tone, yet at the very same time, it’s seeping with disdain - ambivalence.

Unfortunately, you’re used to that tone of voice and can recognise it all too well. It’s not going to be the first time you hear it, and it certainly won’t be the last, no matter how progressive times are or how you express yourself.

Standing up, spinning on your heels, ready to give the - officer? that’s poor - a rehearsed response to ensure your own safety, yet keep a boundary, you see Spencer stood behind the average sized, blonde haired man that you don’t recognise. He’s giving the officer one of his looks, his face saying everything, as usual, despite the officer not being able to see it.

Spencer’s fully aware his face is saying everything without it coming out of his lips, he’s completely baffled at how someone could say something so demeaning to anybody, much less you. You’re probably the sweetest person he’s ever met, always so supportive and enthusiastic. He feels protective of you. He doesn’t even realise he does until the words are out.

“She’s perfectly capable of doing her job, if not more so than other male agents, not that it concerns you whatsoever. And I’m perfectly capable of reporting a sexist comment to your supervisor.”

Spencer’s tone is defensive, no, protective, and you can feel heat rushing to your cheeks. It’s the bare minimum - sticking up for someone to a discriminatory comment - and you know that. It’s more so that Spencer hates confrontation, but he’s doing it, and it’s for you. Thank God for the Texas weather masking your fluster as warmth.

With the threat of his supervisor being involved, the officer offers a mumbled apology before walking away, almost as if his ‘tail’ is tucked between his legs, like a scolded puppy. A soft laugh elicits from your lips at the sight. Once the sexist officer has gone, Spencer’s eyes find you, his expression changing to one of concern.

“Hey, you okay? That was demeaning,” the brunette offers, his hand coming to rub the back of his neck, a habit he has, typically more often around you.

“‘M okay. Used to it, unfortunately. Thank you, though, Spence. That was sweet; I know how much you hate confrontation,” you say, giving him a soft smile as you do.

It’s Spencer’s turn to blush now, you calling his actions sweet and that soft smile - god, that smile - flushing his cheeks a light pink while his hand still rubs at the back of his neck.

“Oh, you don’t need to thank me. Anyway, you called me over here. What did you find?”

With his question, you’re quickly reminded of why you did call him over, before the sexist comment and mini confrontation that’d ensued with the officer’s presence, but there’s something you want to do first.

“I don’t need to thank you, but I want to,” you reassure him before stepping forward, moving closer to him, leaning up on your tiptoes, turning your head to face Spencer’s cheek, and slowly placing a chaste kiss to his already pink cheek.

Spencer’s eyes widen before they close, realising what you’re doing and wanting to savour the feeling of your lips on his skin. Unfortunately for him, the brief contact is gone just as quickly as it had started. He opens his eyes again and moves his right hand from the back of his neck to touch his cheek, realising what he did in front of you, and acting as if he was wiping away your lip gloss stain.

“Oh, uh.. thanks. Anyway, the, uhm, you called me over to see…?”

Silently, secretly, he wills the feeling of your lips on his skin to never leave his memory, not even when he’s old and grey, and maybe, just maybe, he wishes that you’ll be by his side when he is.

#season 2 spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x sunshine reader #spencer reid x you #glasses spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #sunshine reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction #fic #cm

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julietsbody · 1 year ago

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KITTY KAT — art donaldson + reader : art has a tendency to show up late to your lessons.

tags: mdni, tennis lessons, coach!art donaldson, p in v sex, fingering, art is kind of an asshole, cheating (not on reader)

a/n: sorry to tashi… this goes out to my dear @murdrdocs

thirty minutes ago.

art donaldson was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago, your teeth grit against each other, foot tapping impatiently against the concrete floor below you.

art was a sweet guy, sure, but his time management was beyond infuriating. it almost made you feel like he thought himself above you, like you weren’t worth his time.

“one to talk,” you mumble to yourself, dragging your racket on the ground, “rich from the guy who was coached by his wife.”

ahem.

you spin around, and of course, he’s standing right there, looking the same as he always does. his dirty blonde hair was messed up and falling over his eyebrows, blue eyes, with a mix of brown, staring directly at you with an almost amused expression.

you blink at him, once, twice.

a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, “sorry for being late.”

it sounds condescending, like he would never actually mean it, especially not after what he heard, it felt like a sort of karma for what you were previously saying about him.

and he knows that, of course he does, so he masks it with a sense of sweetness, one that would typically gaslight people into thinking they’ve been forgiven, but you know better.

you’ve been coached by art for a while now, and his little habits became far too predictable. this was odd, though, you couldn’t make out the glint in his eye, especially when you mumble a, “sorry, i didn’t mean—“

“let’s get started, yeah?” art cuts in, bitter, yet his voice still sounded like it was dipped in honeysuckle.

he whisks right past you with that same, tugged up smirk, he reeked of rich cologne and mint.

your lips press together and you silently, albeit ashamed, nod in agreement.

maybe silence will earn points back from your coach.

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

silence did not earn anything.

art served hard, hit the ball hard, it was as if he wanted to make the ball break through your racket and hit you square in the face. he clearly took your miniscule words personally, and he was testing you, trying to break you down, to see how much you could take until your bones turned soft and you felt like giving up.

the first time you called a pause, art smiled, “don’t tell me you’re giving up.”

“pause,” you repeat through heaved breaths, sweat sticking to your skin underneath the relentless sun. art had that same playful look in his eyes that he always did, he knew that what he was doing was working, he knew that he was getting under your skin, and as cruel as it sounds, he really did enjoy it.

if you ever were to ask him about it, he’d just shrug and say it’s all a part of the practice, it always happens in tennis, especially professional, he’s just preparing you. but deep down, he really just wanted to say that he was doing it for those reasons but for his own personal pleasures, karma comes in many forms, but art picks the harshest form first.

he watches you drink water with a desperate urgency, stifling his own chuckles, “you sure you’re okay?”

“‘m fine,” you speak after gulping down the last drop, finally satisfied, “let’s keep going.”

art’s brows furrow ever so slightly, but as soon as you’re back to being ready, he rolls the tennis ball in his hand a little, observing it, before throwing it up in the air and sending it your way. he’s so casual with every hit, despite his grunts and the way his nose scrunches whenever ball meets racket, he makes it look like it’s nothing.

to make it even worse, he starts trying to conversate between passes, “you know—“ smack! another grunt leaves his lips, “it’s really rude to—“ smack! “speak about people behind their—“ smack! “fuck.. backs.”

you’re so busy trying to decipher his words you almost miss the next hit, but thankfully you snap out of the trance quick enough to hit it last minute, which he chuckles at and quickly sends it back.

smack! “‘m sorry, art, really—“ your shoes scratch against the concrete below, smack! “i was being very—“ smack! “childish, i apologize.”

he hums, content with your apologies, but still not outwardly saying he forgives you, instead his hits start to soften, he’s less trying to kill you with the ball and now rather trying to actually play tennis. “you’re all good—“ he confirms, smack! “just make it up to me, yeah?”

ball meets floor, his words had completely caught you off guard, and you missed your hit on the ball he sent your way. you felt almost stupid, standing there, staring at him and trying to decipher what he meant by making it up to him.

and of course, he didn’t elaborate, he never did, he simply just picked up another ball, smiled at you, and said, “ready?”

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

art said he forgave you, right?

ever since that day, he’s been acting.. off. he was more focused on your figure now, not in a crude way, but in a way where he wanted you to position yourself correctly when playing. he watches you serve the ball, then his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek and he stands, “hey, hey, wait a second— your uh… your stance is wrong.”

“it is?” it was the fifth time he’s corrected you, today, and it’s safe to say you were getting annoyed, he picked up on the bitterness of your tone as he approached you.

“‘ts not my fault, kitty cat,” he shrugged simply, noticing the way your eyes narrow in frustration at his nickname, he only smiles. he leans in behind you, “may i?” his hands are ghosting over your arms from behind.

“whatever helps,” you remark.

“good,” it’s softly spoken at the shell of your ear, making you swallow thick, his fingers wrap around your wrist, other one holding your fingers grip on the racket’s handle. his grip is tight, yet gentle at the same time, veins flexing against his flesh with every movement as he helps you move into the right position. “just gotta.. do it like this,” he’s still whispering against your ear, nearly making your knees buckle.

once he’s satisfied with your position, which is far too quick for your liking, he backs off and lets you serve the ball again. he smiles once he’s gotten what he’s wanted, “perfect.”

eventually, after a while of hitting the ball, you decided to take a break. there was a silence between you and art, a tension you couldn’t place, you had nothing to blame it on, nothing to apologize for, and he constantly looked like he was trying to say something indescribable.

“hey,” he starts, before tugging his bottom lip under his tongue for a mere second before continuing, “remember when i said you had to make it up to me?”

you stare at him, curious, “yeah, of course.”

“you know,” his hands smooth over each other, skin underneath his right eye twitching as his pupils dilate in thought, “i’ve been having a.. problem, lately.”

“with tennis?”

“nono,” he laughs nervously, moving to scratch the back of his neck, “it’s personal, y’know? well— not entirely, since ‘m telling you, but uh— actually, nevermind.”

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

you and art hadn’t discussed much after the last meet, you found yourself standing in the court yet again, whilst he was no short of an hour late at this point. you wanted to ask him what his deal is lately, what his problem is, but he wasn’t even here to be questioned. it was almost ridiculous, like he was toying with you.

“i like your skirt,” it comes out of nowhere, but it’s the same, smooth voice that art holds.

yet again, you find yourself spinning around to meet him, he’s closer, now, clearly eyeing you— but that’s.. weird, is it not? he has a wife, he shouldn’t be complimenting your obviously short skirt, or eyeing you like that, or wishing to tell you things that he had apparently not told anyone else because it’s personal. but who are you to question his relationship? maybe he’s just.. being nice, really.

“thank you,” you offer, nice, short, sweet.

he rolls his shoulder, meeting your eyes, flickering his gaze to your lips for a mere second, then saying nothing and walking by. rich cologne and mint. that’s what wafts into your senses immediately, as if it was some sort of distraction from his odd behaviors.

“do you always call people kitty cat?” you eventually ask him, it was something you’d been wondering, truly, especially since you’ve never been called that before.

“to pretty girls with an attitude, yeah,” art says it so casually.

“like your wife?”

“like you.”

art corrected you.

he corrected you, and his correction didn’t annoy you like how they always did, it made your stomach churn in a way you couldn’t decipher, you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. you liked it, maybe, but isn’t that so sickening? art seems to think no big deal of his own words, as he doesn’t even react, so you try to be nonchalant about it as well.

the whole entire test match you play with him, he has a certain glint in his eye, his grunts are louder, his shorts look tighter, he looks like he’s having some sort of reaction to playing tennis, to playing tennis with you. your tongue runs along your lips between breaks, noticing the way his eyes linger on it, the way his pupils widen at the shine of saliva over your lips with each swipe.

at the third break, art was convinced you were doing this on purpose.

“why do you keep doing that?” he asks as he’s walking over to grab his water bottle, right where you’re sitting on the concrete floor. you blink up at him, watching him hover the bottle near his lips and squirt the water into his mouth. did he always look this good when sweaty?

gosh, maybe you’re just tired, maybe your mind is just foggy.

“what?” you frown, confused.

“licking your lips,” he speaks after swallowing the water, towering over you. his muscles were nearly bursting out of his white t-shirt with every movement, especially when he puts his water bottle down and crosses his arm, head cocking to the side. sweat causes some of his hair strands to stick to his forehead, lips puffy from how much he bites them when playing.

“my lips are dry,” you explain, so simple.

“yeah?” again, another smile, he had to be toying with you, “do you need some other help with that?”

“what do you mean?”

art hums, not explaining anything when he opens his mouth and swipes his thumb along his tongue, moving down to rub the saliva from his tongue onto your lips, memorizing the pillowy soft touch. your eyes widen, slightly, “art, this is—“

“not helping?” art tuts in faux disappointment, mumbling a small, ‘why don’t i..’ before he leans down further, licking his own lips and getting closer and closer until his lips are brushing against yours.

“wrong,” you mumble out, but you sound unsure, like you don’t really believe what you just said, you don’t think this is wrong, you’ve always thought art was attractive, it was his wife that kept your crush on him at bay. you mumble against his lips, “you have a wife, art..”

“do i?” he smirks against your lips, a near chuckle slipping out, “i must’ve forgotten.”

“art,” it sounds like a warning, but again, you wanted nothing less than for his lips to fall against yours right now.

“make it up to me, yeah? remember that?” his hand moves to hold your cheek, tipping your head up at him, eyes meeting yours in such close proximity, “i’ve got some marriage problems right now, so why don’t you play wife for me, hm?”

you nod at him, ever so slightly, he clocks it immediately, and that’s his que. his eyes flutter shut, and he’s leaning in only a mere centimeter before his lips fall against yours. the kiss is soft at first, sweet, new, but then art starts taking the lead, and it quickly becomes something on the faint lines of cannibalism, he kissed you like he wanted to eat you, like he loved you.

when he said he wanted you to play wife, he wasn’t lying.

he pries your lips open with his own before his tongue makes it’s way inside your mouth, tasting the peppermint of your gum on your own tongue, memorizing the noisy breaths that leave your mouth and move into his. your nails are quick to run along his arms, making him pull back to speak, “hold on, kitty cat.”

“you call your wife kitty cat?” you watch him peel off his sweaty shirt from his skin.

he tosses the shirt to the side, exhaling a breath that showed he hated the feeling of the wet fabric on his skin, “mm, i call you kitty cat, ‘nd you’re playing my wife, so.”

“right,” you agree, letting his cold hands brush against your skin when he takes your clothes off of you, of course looking at you for approval beforehand, which you nod to.

“did you start wearing shorter skirts on purpose?” art questions when his fingers reach the waistband of your skirt, ever so slowly dipping underneath.

“no, ‘course not,” you speak breathlessly, feeling his fingers move under your underwear as well until his fingertips meet your clit. you swallow thick, lashes fluttering as he starts moving his fingers in an almost cruel slowness.

“look at me,” he whispers a simple command, free hand holding your chin and forcing you to look at him. his fingers move further down, immediately feeling how wet you are, he chuckles in surprise, “god, you’re this wet for a married man, huh?”

“for my husband,” you mumble out, playing the part.

“that’s right,” his middle finger circles your entrance for a second before ever so slowly dipping it inside. he watches your lips fall apart, the way your eyes get glossed over, the way your hips push up against his finger. “needy.”

he doesn’t take long to push another finger in, letting go of your chin so he could guide your hand to his clothed cock, hard and pushing against his flimsy shorts. as soon as you start rubbing his dick through the fabric, his breath shudders slightly, as if he’s been waiting too long for like, as if he hasn’t had sexual pleasure in weeks.

soon enough, only a mere minute or two in of foreplay, art gets antsy and he has to have his dick inside of you, he pries his fingers from your cunt and takes your skirt off next. “lay down for me, yeah?” he smiles at the fact that you do it immediately, even spreading your legs for him.

he hisses at the feeling when his bare knees meet the concrete floor below, harsh on his skin, he tugs his shorts and boxers down ever so slightly until his cock is finally freed. you inhale sharply upon seeing it, he had a big dick. he spits in his hand, coating his dick with a grunt before he finally lines himself up with your entrance.

“ready?” he hushes out.

“yeah, yeah,” you’re barely able to finish the last yeah before his dick is moving into you, his nose scrunching from the tightness of your walls around him, it’s like you were purposefully squeezing his cock with an attempt to milk him dry already.

“fuck,” he grunts out, pulling back, then moving back in, earning a pathetic moan from your lips. it sounds like music to his ears, so he keeps going, his thrusting was slow at first, gentle, kind— but just like the test matches, or the kiss, he gets hungry, and he wants more.

his thrusts turn relentless almost immediately, maybe even like he was taking out some sorts of sexual frustrations out on your poor cunt. whimpers, whines, moans, all of those leave your lips, matching up with the grunts and the occasional whimper from his own mouth as well.

sex was intoxicating for art, and there was something so dangerous, so forbidden about this, you weren’t really his wife, he was married to another woman, he was solely your coach. some sick part of art loves that, maybe that’s why he leans down and starts nipping at your neck, sucking at the delicate skin until maroon and blackberry starts blooming on the blank canvas.

“art, oh my god,” you moan out, hands moving to scratch at his bare back, and maybe art should be smart enough to tell you not to leave marks, but he lets your nails dig in as his thrusts get harsher, surely drawing blood, or at least noticeable scratches.

in fact, the feeling of you tearing into his skin only makes his orgasm come on faster, soon enough wracking his body and making his hips stutter. he keeps going though, despite the overstimulation that makes him pathetically whine softly, just until you’ve reached your own orgasm.

he pulls out, panting, smirking down at you, “thanks, kitty cat.”

#୨୧ (jules yapping) .ᐟ #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist x you #art donaldson smut #art donaldson challengers #challengers #challengers smut #mike faist smut #mike faist challengers

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rrysbabydoll · 20 days ago

Text

Dark Paradise

Pairing: Harry Styles × Reader.

Synopsis: A night at Berghain with Harry

CW: Explicit smut (18+), semi-public sexual activity, dirty talk, praise kink, a bit of dominance, explicit language.

You stood outside Berghain’s towering concrete walls, heart thrumming too fast in your chest. The low thud of bass leaked through the thick doors. You tugged nervously at the hem of your black dress.

Harry caught it instantly.

“Hey,” he said, low enough that only you could hear. His hand brushed against yours, grounding you. “You alright?”

You nodded, though your stomach was a storm.

Harry smiled, soft and sure, like he could erase the worry with just a look. His short hair was a little messy. His hands were cold when his fingers laced through yours.

“If you changed your mind, just tell me. We don't have to go in if you don't wanna.” he said reassuringly.

“No, no, I want to”

You tried to smile, but it came out a little shaky.

It felt surreal, being in Berlin, standing outside the most infamous club in the world, with Harry Styles of all people. Even after almost two years together, you were still getting used to it: the way he looked at you like you were the most interesting person in the room, the way he made you feel like you belonged, even when the world felt too big.

The line moved forward. Harry squeezed your hand once.

When it was your turn, the bouncer looked you both over. Harry didn’t say anything, just nodded once. You mirrored him, heart hammering. There was a beat of silence. Then, a curt nod, and the door swung open.

The air hit you first, hot and thick, vibrating with sound. The bass wasn’t just heard here, it was felt. The lights were dim, almost nonexistent.

The main floor was massive, industrial and raw, walls streaked with graffiti and years of sweat and smoke. Bodies moved everywhere, a pulsing sea of strangers lost in the music.

You clutched Harry’s hand tighter, overwhelmed.

He felt it. Stopped.

“Hey.” He turned you toward him, hands firm on your waist. “You good?”

You nodded quickly. “Just… a lot. But I'm good I think.”

Harry searched your face, then smiled. “Come on. Let’s dance.”

He pulled you into the throng before you could second-guess yourself. The music swallowed you both whole, heavy techno. Harry didn’t dance like he did on stage. Just raw movement, messy, head tipping back as he lost himself in the sound.

You let yourself be pulled into his orbit.

It was freeing, in a way you hadn’t expected. No one cared who you were here. No phones. No flashing lights. Just sweat and music.

Harry spun you, laughing when you stumbled into his chest. You pressed your face against him, breathing his soft smell in.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your hair. “You know that?”

You looked up, blinking. His green eyes were molten in the low light.

You buried your face back in his chest, heart thudding for a whole new reason.

Hours blurred. You danced until your feet ached, until your lungs burned. At some point, Harry dragged you to a quieter side room, smaller, darker, the music softer but still pulsing.

You collapsed onto a battered leather couch, laughing breathlessly. Harry flopped down beside you, stretching his long legs out.

He tilted his head, watching you. “Still nervous?”

You shook your head, smiling. “Mhm, no.”

For a while, you just sat there. Close enough to feel each other breathe. The noise of the club wrapped around you like a cocoon, but here, with him, it felt quiet somehow.

Harry’s hand found yours again, fingers tracing lazy patterns over your skin.

“You know,” he said after a while, voice low and thoughtful, “when I was your age, I’d have been terrified to come here.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “Seriously? You?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. Didn’t know who I was yet. Thought I had to be what everyone expected. Took me a while to realize... it’s more fun being who you actually are.”

You stared at him, the words sinking deep.

You swallowed hard, throat tight. “I only came because you’re here.”

He smiled, small and soft. “I’ll always be here.”

He leaned in, giving you time to pull away, but you didn’t. You surged up instead, meeting his mouth with yours, a soft gasp slipping between you when he kissed you back, rougher than you expected. His hands slid up your thighs, under the hem of your dress.

You whimpered into his mouth as he pulled you onto his lap, straddling him.

Harry growled low in his throat, hands gripping your hips like he couldn't get enough. His bare hands were cold against your burning skin. You ground down against him instinctively, feeling the hard press of him through his pants.

“Fuck, bunny,” he rasped, breaking the kiss to drag his mouth down your throat, biting gently at your pulse point. You arched into him, fingers digging into his shoulders for balance.

Around you, the side room stayed dark and ignored, everyone else too lost in their own worlds to notice. Or maybe they did notice and didn’t care. Berghain wasn’t the kind of place where anyone batted an eye.

Harry’s hand slipped between your bodies, finding the edge of your underwear. He paused, eyes searching yours, asking without words.

You nodded, breathless. “Please.”

That one word broke him.

He pushed your panties aside, fingertips brushing through your slick folds, groaning quietly when he felt how ready you were for him. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, and he muttered something filthy against your skin.

He circled your clit slowly, making you shudder against him, hips jerking forward.

“You’re so fucking wet, Y/N,” he murmured, voice shaking with restraint. “All for me, yeah?”

You whined, nodding eagerly.

He slid two fingers inside you, deep and slow, and your head tipped back with a choked moan. His thumb kept working your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

“That's it, love,” he whispered, kissing the line of your jaw. “Take what you need.”

You rode his hand shamelessly, chasing the heat building deep in your tummy. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, looking absolutely wrecked just from touching you.

“Harry,” you gasped, nails scraping over the back of his neck.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, pressing his forehead to yours.

When you came, it tore through you like a wave, leaving you trembling and breathless in his lap. Harry held you through it, murmuring praises against your skin, fingers still gentle inside you until you whined at the overstimulation.

He withdrew carefully, hands stroking soothing lines up and down your back.

You blinked at him, dazed, and he smiled, so unbearably sweet it made your heart ache.

“Good job, lovie.” he said softly, brushing your hair out of your face.

You leaned forward, kissing him again, slower this time. Gratitude and want tangled together between your lips.

Harry groaned into the kiss, shifting under you. You felt him, hard and heavy against your thigh, and smirked against his mouth.

“Your turn?” you whispered, voice still wrecked.

He chuckled lowly, but shook his head. “Later. Wanna take my time with you, bunny. Not here.”

You bit your lip, heart flipping. The promise in his voice was thick enough to drown in.

He helped you stand, smoothing your dress back down with a tenderness that made you melt all over again. You slipped your panties back into place, cheeks burning deliciously at how casually he kissed your thigh before straightening.

Hand in hand, you melted back into the crowd.

The night stretched on. You danced again, kissed in a dark corner, Somewhere in the early hours, when the sky outside started bleeding pale pink, you stumbled out into the cold with him, shivering and giddy.

You leaned into him, exhausted and exhilarated, as he hailed a cab.

As you slid into the backseat, you rested your head on his shoulder.

The cab ride back to the hotel was a blur, all heavy glances, stolen touches, tension strung so tight between you it was a miracle you made it upstairs without tearing each other apart.

The second the door shut behind you, Harry had you pinned against it, mouth hot and hungry against yours.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he growled against your lips, hands roaming your body like he couldn’t decide where to touch first. “You’ve got no idea, do you, baby?”

You whimpered as his thigh pressed between your legs, pinning you harder against the door.

“Harry, please—”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark, blown wide with need.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, voice low and commanding.

You swallowed, dizzy under his stare. “You. I want you.”

He lifted you effortlessly, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, clinging to him as he carried you to the bed. He dropped you onto the mattress, standing over you for a second, taking you in, your flushed cheeks, your ruined lipstick, the way your thighs squeezed together unconsciously.

“Spread ‘em for me, love,” he said, his voice still sweet despite the moment.

Heat flooded your body as you obeyed, heart hammering.

Harry peeled off his jacket and t-shirt in one smooth motion, muscles rippling under the dim hotel light. His tattoos flexed across his chest and arms, and for a moment, you just stared, overwhelmed by how utterly beautiful he was.

He smirked, catching you looking.

“You okay?” he asks teasingly.

You nodded dumbly.

He chuckled — a low, dirty sound — as he climbed onto the bed, settling between your legs.

“Gonna take my time with you now,” he murmured, voice like velvet over steel. “Gonna make you feel so good, my baby.”

You whimpered, hips bucking up instinctively.

He leaned down, pressing open-mouthed kisses up your inner thigh, sucking little bruises into your skin as he went. You writhed under him, desperate for more, but he took his time, teasing you until you were panting his name like a prayer.

Finally, finally, he hooked his fingers into your panties and dragged them down your legs, tossing them aside carelessly.

“Look at you,” he said, almost reverent. “So fucking pretty.”

He dipped his head and licked a slow, teasing stripe up your center, making you cry out.

Harry groaned against you, like he couldn’t help himself, and then he was devouring you, tongue fucking into you, lips wrapping around your clit, sucking hard enough to make you see stars.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, grinding against his mouth shamelessly.

He moaned when you tugged, the vibration shooting through you.

It didn’t take long, you were already so wound up, so desperate, and when you came, it was blinding, your whole body shaking as Harry licked you through it, murmuring filth against your sensitive skin.

Before you could even catch your breath, he was kneeling up, shoving his jeans down with one hand, cock springing free, thick and leaking at the tip.

Your mouth watered at the sight.

Harry caught you looking and grinned lazily.

He stroked himself once, twice, then lined up at your entrance, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds.

“Still want me, angel?” he asked, voice rough.

“God, yes,” you gasped. “Harry, please—”

That was all he needed.

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you open, making you gasp at the delicious burn. He was big, and he knew it, watching your face closely, murmuring soft encouragements as he bottomed out inside you.

“Good girl,” he praised, brushing sweaty hair from your face. “Taking me so fucking well.”

He gave you a moment to adjust, hips rocking in tiny, teasing thrusts that made you whimper.

Then he started moving, slow at first, grinding his pelvis against your clit with every thrust.

You clawed at his back, desperate for more.

“Greedy little thing,” he murmured.

He picked up the pace, slamming into you harder, making the headboard thud against the wall with every thrust.

You couldn’t even think, only feel. His hands everywhere, his cock filling you perfectly, his mouth claiming yours in filthy, desperate kisses.

“I love you so much— oh my god” you babbled, nails raking down his spine.

He groaned, hips stuttering.

“You’re gonna cum for me again, love,” he panted against your mouth. “Cum all over my cock, yeah?”

You nodded frantically, tears stinging your eyes from how intense it was.

He slipped a hand between your bodies, rubbing tight circles over your clit, and it was too much. You shattered around him, clenching so hard he cursed loudly, spilling inside you moments later.

He fucked you through it, slowing gradually, until you were both trembling, gasping, clinging to each other.

Finally, he collapsed onto the bed beside you, dragging you into his arms without letting himself slip free.

You lay there in the dark, sweaty and boneless, heart still racing.

Harry kissed your forehead softly.

“You alright, bunny?” he whispered.

You nodded against his chest, too blissed out to speak.

He smiled, stroking your back lazily.

“That's my baby,” he murmured, pulling the covers over you both.

#harry styles x reader #dom harry styles #harry styles #harry #styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic rec #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles fandom #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n

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xaer1s · 2 months ago

Text

ㅤㅤ ❛ ㅤ✿ ────── cold to the touch ⸝⸝

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ[ 정우영 ] ─── JUNG WOOYOUNG ⨾ ATEEZ

ㅤㅤsynopsis:ㅤhe got that piercing for fun, yet he was happy to see you react to it more deeply than just with simple happiness.ㅤ⨾ㅤwarnings:ㅤnsfw!!, mean-teasing-dom!wooyoung, oral (f receiving) heavy make out sessions at the beginning, all of it is just nasty stuff, tongue pierced woo <3, absolutely no plot, he munching on it, slight p*ssy play and slapping, lmk if missed anything & sorry for possible mistakes!!ㅤ⨾ㅤword count:ㅤ1,4kㅤ⨾ㅤa/n.:ㅤbased on that video where he says he wants a lip piercing (or it was my imagination sry guys) but his mother doesnt let him; justice for our boy, woo...

ㅤㅤNAViGATiON ・・・・・; ✉︎ message me on: @smnxi ; please reblog and follow if you like my posts! do not spam likes, or you'll be blocked, sorry! ♡

ㅤㅤif you'd like to be a part of my taglist, fill out this form, dm me or comment on ONLY the rules post!/ requests open!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ• . ˚ ⋆ . ｡.

. . . after wooyoung didn’t resist the temptation of getting more and more tattoos alongside with a tongue piercing, you just carefully examined from the sidelines how it would turn out for him and to be frank it was quite sexy. but with this, came the thoughts wrapped with filth, picturing his hot muscle dragging over your sensitive petals, gifting small circles and quick flicks with the cold metal had you slowly falling into madness.

and oh did he saw those thoughts every single fucking time you got a glimpse of the piercing while he was speaking. the way you so intently stared; he was sure if he’d ask you what he said just now, you would totally freak out and be caught with those nasty images keeping you occupied.

it made him swell with pride, pumping his ego like nothing else in the past days. he has you wrapped around his fingers and now wooyoung made it his own little personal mission to have you go nuts on his tongue.

his coat carelessly left somewhere in they way between the front door and your living room, shoes kicked off, the bouquet he picked with care for you now tossed on the coffee table in the middle of the room, you crashed against him desperately after a long day of waiting for him to arrive home.

the sensual dances of your swelled lips, the make out messy and sloppy, your spit mixing together at the eager way his tongue almost fucks into the cavern of your mouth. your back flushed against the wall, his right hand planted next to your head while the other took a hold of your chin, his thumb swiping across your smooth skin in small shapes.

doing your very best to breathe through your nose as a way to ground yourself, trying to keep your dizziness at bay, it just didn’t seem to work though. your legs wobbly, words not even being able to made out, muttered against the kiss, by the way the man completely just devours you, leaving you unable to even resist, not if you wanted to too anyway.

even if the possibility of losing your grounding were to happen, his muscled arms would tightly fold around your, ensuring every inch of you body perfectly molded against his.

“baby- calm down-” finally you were able to mutter with great effort but in response, wooyoung pulled your bottom between his teeth, giving it a tug and the strength almost enough to break through the delicate, pink skin.

“mmm, you said-” he groaned into your mouth, one of his arm making its way up to push against your throat, your head tipping back with a small thump against the cold concrete wall. “you wanted a kiss-..” he practically ate you, everything messy and smudged and hot around you. your body was uncomfortable. burning up while he choked the words back inside you before they could even come up to the surface in the form of resistance.

free hand sneaking their way between your legs without your notice, only feeling the way his palms lands a smack on your clothed heat, fingers then circling in an attempt to have you completely soaked and goddamn needy.

“you got it baby..” he laughed; in the meantime of seconds, he ended up on his knees, looking up at you with those intense, desire filled eyes. his gaze almost screaming he’ll rip apart your clothes if you’re not stepping out of them right in this moment.

larger hands planted on the top of your thighs, his short nails digging into your flesh even through the fabric of your thin shorts, subconsciously pulling them until you finally gave in. your thumbs hooking into the waistband and with a quick push it was already around your ankles, shaking your legs enthusiastically to get rid of the annoying piece of clothing which seemed to practically being glued on you in your hurry.

wooyoung’s eyes finding their new favorite place on your panties, with rush he tugged it barely aside, the focus on just reaching what he had to.

cupping the inside of your thigh with his left hand, giving it a gentle, encouraging push to spread, your back leaned on the wall for leverage you pushed your hips out right in his face.

“look at this, baby..” he tuts with a mocking click if his tongue. “all the trashing around and still so ridiculously turned on..” wooyoungs let’s his big thumb graze over your soaked up folds while he watches in awe at the way you so urgently wiggle yourself close.

his hand holding your legs now pressing you firmly back to the cold wall, halting down all your grinding and your impatient moves while he takes his time as if he was the man with the most time on his hand. and when it came to you, he was indeed.

“woo-.. just do it..” a whine escaped you as his fat thumb circled your twitching clit, your love juices gushing out while you clenched on the terrible feeling of just air filling you.

“shut it.” your back arched with a stretched out moan, your toes curling as his hand what was caressing you so tenderly landed a slap on your swollen lips. pain shot through you, beautifully mingling with overflowing pleasure, the lines blurred and washed together deliciously.

the air got caught in your throat the moment you felt his lips embrace the small bundle of nerves, teeth grazing and tugging it. the cold metal bullied your sensitive flesh as he dragged it across, circling it and flicking over while he gazed into your eyes. overflowing lust was visible as he drank up all your expressions like air, his thin yet long lashes fluttering prettily.

crumpled top now hunched over your breasts, one trembling hand holding it in place as the other caressed the males raven dark locks, fingers curling around them and pushing him into you. he took the opportunity to drape your right leg over his shoulder, ensuring better access for his hungry mouth.

all logical thought faded from your hazy brain, only focusing the way this man went all out for you. just the way he liked it, all silly and needy not wanting to mutter a single word of complaint, —even if you were able to—, yet in this case it wasn’t possible. you waited this moment for days if not weeks, letting the piercing heal, only entertaining yourself with your mere imagination.

while he pushed you higher and higher on the wall from the way he chased after you to taste and feel after not doing it so long, his arms wrapped themselves around your thighs, the muscles subtly flexing in the action. the hand that was pulling, now changed into pushing against his forehead desperately.

wooyoung knitted his eyebrows together in frustration, determined to not let you slip away. one big palm gathering the now overly drenched textile just carelessly pushed aside from your pussy, straight up ripping away delicate fabric, making it completely useless. with this, his eyes slipped shut to turn his whole attention towards you, his the muscle going back and forth from dipping into your fluttering cunt, tracing your flushed lips and circle your twitching clit. all harmonizing together, overwhelming your senses and resulting in your whole body trembling, the heated feeling grew in your stomach and was ready to snap.

after few, maddening lash of the cold metal ball, your body went rigid suddenly while a strangled moan rippled from your throat. release coating his chin and face, wooyoung did his very best not to waste a single drop and let it drip onto the floor.

his brain completely shut you out and the cries for him to stop, —so he didn’t— lapping with the same determination.

only when he came up for a quick sip of air your managed to stop him from diving back. “gosh- i said stop!” wooyoung wiped your slick from his mouth with the back of his hand with a cheeky smile before landing a last, playful peck to the inside of your thighs. then he carefully eased himself from the floor to reward your lips too with a sweet kiss.

“i had no idea you would enjoy it so much.” at the shove you gave him in the shoulder he just laughed you off.

plagiarism is strictly forbidden, do not translate my works, copy them or publish them on another site ; @xaer1s

#[ ✧ ﹒ ] aeris writes #ateez #jung wooyoung #wooyoung smut #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung fanfic #jung wooyoung x reader #ateez jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung scenarios #ateez smut #ateez wooyoung smut #ateez wooyoung x reader #ateez smut oneshot #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez wooyoung oneshot

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hoshigray · 1 year ago

Note

Hi hi LOVEEE YOUR WORKK

The way you write kinda touches my heart, and tingles my brain a little too

Especially your jjk fics!!!

Do you mind if I request a kind of angst smut fic of reader leaving home to blow off some steam after having a heated argument with any JJK man and he comes out to find her and resolve 😼😼🤭 it in the car?

Thank you for reading thisss 🫶

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: awww, ty for liking my stuff!! i was supposed to release a sugu fic today (but didn't, yikes, lmao), so imma make this sugu~

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - angst + reconciliation - sex in a public area; car out in the neighborhood - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping and licking) - feedbag position - oral (f! receiving) - pet names (angel, baby, pretty thing, my love, pumpkin, sweetheart) - implied insertion at the end - mention of spit.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k

“…”

“Y/n, what are you doing?.”

“You can’t see I’m taking a walk?”

“Please just get inside the car.”

“Leave me alone, Geto!”

Geto winces at the use of his family name. Oh fuck, they really are mad at me…

You were walking on the pavement, your anger exhibited through your feet, stomping as you traveled down the concrete floor in the supposed quiet neighborhood. Unfortunately, you weren’t alone; your boyfriend drove slowly to match your speed and speak with you.

Why were you angry? Why don’t you ask the fucking asshat following you in that car of his? The two of you had a terrible argument not too long ago, and you’re sure the neighbors of your complex must’ve heard the audible insults and blows you two threw at each other for almost an hour. You hadn’t expected things to be blown out of proportion – it’s not unusual for people in relationships to argue. However, if your partner insidiously says something that he knows will tip you off the scales, are you not inclined to exit the apartment to blow off some steam before you choke him to death and have a murder charge on your record?

“Baby, c’mon, you can’t just keep walking on the sidewalk like this.”

So here you are, out for an evening stroll meant to calm you down, yet it’s doing the opposite since a certain someone is trailing alongside you.

You suck your teeth, “Geto, go home! Why are you even following me?”

The tall black-haired man ducks down for you to see him from the driver’s window. “Because I feel bad!”

“Good!” You bark. “Good that you feel bad; feel nothing but bad, so just leave me be.”

“You know I can’t do that; look how dark out it’s getting!” It was around nine in the evening. The sun had just finished setting, so its shine was dwindling, and the twilight was mere minutes away from transitioning to dusk. “You can’t be walking out alone; just get in the car.”

“Hmph, absolutely not,” you can feel the crease of your furrowed brows worsening. “I’m heading to get homemade ice cream from that place I like; it’s the only thing that can put my mind at ease right now, and seeing your face and hearing your voice isn’t doing anything good for my mood right now.”

The flat line of Geto’s lips is pressed harder, guilt swelling in the pitch of his gut like no other. “…I’ll take you to the place. Just hop in.”

“I’d rather get shot.” Apparently, your boyfriend doesn’t get the ‘don’t want to hear or see you’ part you stressed about literally seconds ago.

“That’s what I don’t want! Do you have any idea how long the walk is?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m very aware, and you’re slowing me down with all this chat.”

“Yeah, but you won’t get to that place until around ten o’clock,” he argues. And then that’s another hour and a half walking back; you’d probably be back home by midnight!”

You couldn’t lie; hearing him be so concerned about you and your safety made you feel a little warm from the early summer breeze touching the exposed skin of the halter top. However, a part of your stubbornness refused to stand down. And yet the more you looked towards you, the further it felt like you’d reach your destination. He’s right; you wouldn’t make it home in time. Plus, it’s getting darker by the second, the comforting blue hue of the sky being absorbed by the bright, dominant moon.

Once you come to an abrupt stop, Geto nearly forgets to hit the brakes, and your figure stands motionless and silent. Then, you move towards the door behind the driver’s side, opening the door to sit in the backseat. You beat Geto to the punch, breaking the silence, “Don’t talk, just drive.”

A soft, relieved sigh leaves the onyx-headed man, but he notices you avoiding the rearview mirror, where purple eyes flicker to try to see you. “…Is this really necessary?”

“What is?”

“You sitting in the backseat?”

“What does it matter to you? I’m in the car, aren’t I?”

“What the hell am I, you Uber? Get in the front.”

“No. You said you’d drive me, so do that, and don’t make me angrier than I already am.”

You thought you won the round when you didn’t hear a remark from your companion. Yet, that wasn’t the case because the man opened and closed his door, walked around the car to open the door to the other side of the backseat, and it takes everything in your power not to pop a vessel when he takes a seat. “You cannot be serious.”

“I’m very serious,” he closes the door.

“Are you deaf? I said I don’t wanna talk to you.”

“And are you blind; can’t you see me trying to make this work—“

“Work?” Oh, how you wanted to burn this car up. “You should’ve thought about that when you said what you said back there.” You didn’t know if it was right to say that—That sounded mean, was it mean?—yet it came from a place of hurt that he caused.

Your words strike deep into Geto, but he still speaks his mind. “Y/n, please…Can you at least look at me?” You don’t move a muscle. “I’m your boyfriend, so can you at least look at my face and not push me—“

“Yeah, you are my boyfriend,” malice in your tone. “And you’re doing a pretty terrible job as of today.”

“Y/n—“

“God!” Now, you finally turn to him with vexation scorching your pupils. “I just want to be left alone–away from you, alright! What part of that don’t you get?! Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“Because I’m sorry!”

Your lips nearly quiver at the snap of those three words, eyes on the brink of shedding tears. Nonetheless, your face returns to the front. “Bullshit…H-Hey, let go!”

“I told you, I’m being very serious!” Geto brings you in for an embrace, and your resistance is hushed down as he keeps talking. “Look, I…I’m sorry. What I said back there…I didn’t mean for it to hurt you like it did, baby. You said something before that made me angry and…” his hold on you gets tighter; you notice even if you’re busy hearing every word from his mouth. “I didn’t think what I said would make you leave, and I got scared.” His mellow voice delves into a hushed tone. “So fucking scared…I’m sorry, Y/n. Just…don’t leave me out like that, okay…”

And with that, the remnant of your irritation ceased. The hotness of your blood subsides to a calm flow, your body easing into the hug as his apology repeats in your mind. You couldn’t think about your argument before; you just can’t, not with an apology like this when you can feel and hear him be genuine and vulnerable. You wanted to be angry with him–you tried– but the more you forced the outrage, the more you kept burrowing your head into his chest and your hands wrapped around his slim figure.

“You’re such a dick, do you know that?” Doing everything you can not to cry since his face is nestled in the crook of your neck. “And…I’m sorry for saying stuff that made you mad at me, too.”

“Guess we’re both dicks, huh.” A joke meant to make you giggle, but he doesn’t sense the jerk of your shoulders. “Hey, I’m sorry. You forgive me?”

“Sure,” you murmur. “After you get me that ice cream.” Your jest made him chuckle instead.

“Mmm, on it,” your breath stops at the kiss on your temple. “But, before that,” he lifts his head, violet eyes examining your expression. “Don’t you think I should also have a little something?”

His question confuses you until you feel the grasp of his hand sneak inside your jeans, and the bare flesh of your ass meets the mild cold of his fingertips. “Suguru, what are you—“

“Compensation,” he kisses your neck, and you gasp at another rough knead on your asscheek.

“Oh, that’s bull…Mmm.”

“Oh? So you can have ice cream to forgive me, but I can’t have anything?” The hand is then lifted out to move to the front, his gingers pressing on the part of your panties that cover your groin. “Well, aren’t you selfish.”

You couldn’t question his logic with his digits now motioning up and down your concealed cunt, your legs spreading apart as Geto’s forearm pushed them aside for easier access. “Hahhh, Sugu…Mmmnn, not here…”

“Mmm? Why not?” He says with faux shock, gently having you lay on your back as he spreads your legs further. His hand still fingers your underwear, only fueling a wet spot to protrude more and more. “It’s dark out, and no one’s driving around here.”

“That’s not—Mmmm!” A thumb presses down on your clit; how cruel to sneak that attack on you. “Ohh, fuck…”

Geto kisses you, gradually unraveling your erotic senses with every peck he places on your lips with his soft ones. And his lips don’t rest there, laying kisses to your chin, your collarbone, and lifting your shirt to expose your abdomen for him to kiss and suck the skin of your tummy and navel. All the while, his fore and middle fingers keep pushing into your chasm as your hips buck subtly.

Another minute of pleasing you with his hand goes by, your wetness becoming more and more evident as his digits did the work in having you wet for him. “Look at you,” he’d say cooly. “Making a mess, such a dirty, pretty thing you are.”

“Sugu, stop, you’re making me—Oooh…” he slips his middle finger inside your panties to insert you. And then, his thumb dances around your clitoris, evoking the shaky moans to leave you. “Ahhh! Noo, don’t move like…”

A snicker leaves his lips. “What? You like it when I tease you like this, don’t you, pumpkin?” He pushes your underwear out of the way and continues to finger you. “You’re gripping on my finger like crazy.”

“Shhtoop, your fingers,” your hand finds his wrist yet does nothing to stop him. “If you keep going, I-I’ll…Hooohh…”Your eyelids suddenly feel heavy, closing them to conceal your vision. However, that only enhances the use of your other senses, indulging in the sense of touch as Geto plays with your pussy.

Even if you didn’t finish your sentence, Geto takes the initiative and removes his hand to lick the fingers. “Oh, my love,” he coos while rolling up your underwear to stay on your inner leg after removing your jeans. In the meantime, the man brings your hips up and rests your legs on his shoulders. “That’s exactly what I want from you…”

Your eyes snap open at the contact of something wet yet firm, sliding across your wet folds, your body jolting at the sensation of it nestling between your labia. And the flick of his tongue on your clit nearly has you choke. “Suguu, no, don’t—Ahaann!”

Any attempts to squirm out of his hold don’t seem manageable now that you two are in the backseat of the car; his hands firmly keep you stable and still as his face ventures closer to your genitalia. Tiny moans get louder and louder with every lick of his tongue cleaning your slit of your essence; ironic as more of your fluids seep out as he does so.

Your hand grabs hold of tuffs of his raven hair, but that only eggs him on to keep going. Pushing his tongue into your entrance, he fucks you with the wet muscle and has your body writhe and crying for him. As the space gets hotter, you wouldn’t be surprised to find fog starting to cloud the windows. But that would probably be for the best as you wouldn’t want people on this road to know what you two were doing, nor hear the squelches from the commotion.

“Ohhhshit, shiiiit,” your head pounding like crazy, you couldn’t think straight, and the walls of your cunt keep clamping onto the tongue that swirls around and has you wailing. “Ooooh,hoooh, Sugu’, I’m gonna—It’s coming…! I’m…Aiishhh!”

“Go ahead, angel,” he says before licking your clit erratically, using his middle finger to fuck your release out. “Let it out for me, baby.”

With how fast he’s sucking and licking your delicate bud and his digit rubbing on your velvety texture, how can you not come? You scream aloud at the wave that crashes on your body, your hips jerking on their own as the trembles of your orgasm rock your entire frame.

Geto keeps you steady, taking in your release with his mouth. He groans at the taste of you on his tongue, his fingers kneading your waist as if to relax your body for him as you ride out your high because of him. Quivering legs get less apparent with every buck, and once your breathing returns to an average pace, he places you back down.

“Good job, sweetie,” he bends to kiss your cheek as he unbuckles his pants to expose his briefs that harbor a tent. “You tasted too good to resist; wanna feel you all on me…”

“You…” you grab for his cheek to pinch. “I better get my ice cream tonight, Geto Suguru.”

Your soft threat has him chuckling. “Will do, baby,” and you succumb to a kiss.

If the windows hadn’t fogged up already, they sure were going to now.

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mariasont · 11 months ago

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Could you do a story where Y/N Is taken in a hostage situation and we see more of a dark hotch? like that early episode where hotch and reid are hostages in the hospital?

TOO EMOTIONAL - A.H

a/n: thank you so much for requestin <3 i hope this is what you were wanting!

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: honestly yall i feel like this is way darker than anything i've written so far, not sure if its good or not but alas, mentions of blood, violence, unsub threatens reader with a knife and a lighter, mentions of sexual assualt (it doesnt happen just mentions of it), unsub cuts open readers shirt, hotch is a dick for a plot, hurt/comfort

wc: 1.4k

Your vision was blurred, you fought to focus as dried blood flaked from your lashes with each heavy blink. You swallowed a cough, the floor's cold concrete punishing your knees. The ties around your wrists and ankles were merciless, digging into your flesh. You tried to focus on the sounds around you — the drip-drop of water, the soft wail of distant sirens.

You caught glimpses of Hotch, his distinct cologne mingling with the warehouse's musty air. He was agonizingly close yet not close enough to touch. The unsub's footsteps were barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Only three cases in, and it seemed the universe was conspiring to reroute your career choice.

Frantically, you attempted to wipe your face on your shirt as the footsteps ceased before you and Hotch. The man was a ghastly figure, burns cutting from one side of his face to the other. You couldn't breathe.

"What a day to have feds come knocking." His voice was hoarse, fingers absently playing with a lighter.

"You know, they say the most intelligent criminals are the ones who don't get caught, yet here we are," Hotch said, his chin defiantly up, words sharp and calculated.

Suddenly, the unsub was right there, his disfigured face uncomfortably close, the heat from the lighter singeing your skin. His breath was a hot, sticky assault, and you fought the instinct to flinch.

"Smart men don't leave witnesses, and I intend to be very smart about this."

The foundations of your training flitted across your consciousness, the methodologies for keeping control of the situation, but they sifted through your fingers like said, rendering you paralyzed.

"Take her then. She's new, inexperienced. Probably more trouble than she's worth." Hotch's voice was cold, jarring like a slap to the face, his expression empty of emotion.

You strained to keep your face impassive, your eyes darting to Hotch, pleading for his attention. Your breaths were shallow, scarcely there. He had to be bluffing. You felt sick. The unsub shifted his weight, scrutinizing you both, edging closer to hotch, no doubt with suspicion.

The unsub laughed, a cold and calculating sound as he circled around Hotch. "You expect me to believe you'd turn on your own that quickly? I'm not a fool."

"Look at her and tell me what her worth is to me." Hotch's voice was even, almost bored. "She's a liability. Too emotional, too soft."

His words were flung carelessly, yet they landed with precision, straight into your chest. Your teeth punished the inside of your cheek.

The remarks were like sharp barbs to your chest, instilling a hollow feeling as you attempted to convince yourself that the wetness on your lashes was anything but tears. His assessment was not unfounded. Your empathy, your sensitivity, traits deemed too tender for the harsher realities of your job, were now being used against you. Hotch had always been an exception, until now.

"Well, I could see her worth in other ways." The man's words oozed contempt, his gaze crawling over you in a way that threatened to turn your stomach. "I bet that's how she got the job in the first place, huh?"

"What do you think?" Hotch's laugh was a sinister match to the unsub's. He tilted his head in your direction. "Look at her. That's all she's been good for."

Your breath caught in your throat, your body turning as much as the ties would permit in Hotch's direction. You could almost hear your heart shattering, could feel it in Hotch's inability to face you. Was this a plan or had he truly discarded you?

You never deluded yourself into thinking you were Hotch's favorite, his reserved interactions with you made that abundantly clear. In fact, you were probably his least favorite. He had kept you at an arm's length, while seemingly forging bonds with the others that didn't seem to extend to you.

This was all within reason, given your inexperience and younger age, but the disdain lacing his words was unexpected, shredding through any pretense of professional detachment.

Hotch had never wanted you on the team, it was Rossi who had vouched for you. And now, look where that got you both.

Maybe this was all deserved.

"Then you won't mind if I try her out for myself?" The unsub's insinuation felt like a perverse validation of Hotch's doubts.

A low hum escaped the unsub as he closed the distance, his gaze predatory. You stilled, breath caught as he produced a knife from his pocket, skimming your cheek just shy of cutting. You were scared and you were scared to show it. Desperately, you looked to Hotch, the blade now hovering precariously close to your sternum.

Hotch wouldn't look at you. You wanted to scream, to cry, to throw something, but that was all shoved to the bottom of your throat as the unsub sliced down the middle of your shirt, exposing your chest and compelling your gaze to it. Tears of humiliation prickled your eyes. How could Hotch let this happen to you?

The unsub's clammy grip clung to your waist, your lips trembling as you prepared for the worst. You closed your eyes, escaping to your house in your mind — tea brewing, fireplace going — anywhere but here.

A sudden splatter to your face jolted you back, eyes opening in alarm you saw Hotch's eyes, not the unsub's.

"You're okay, you're okay," Hotch murmurs.

The words did little to comfort you, his hands moving blindly to release the binds at your wrist and ankles. Looking down, you see the unsub, knife through his back, blood pooling around him. Hotch's hands are on your wrists, his thumbs massaging away the sting.

When your hand touches your face, you feel the splatter from earlier, coming back away with a smear of blood on your fingertips.

Your voice felt like it was a prisoner inside yourself, words and sounds slipping past you like ghosts. A persistent ringing in your ears muffled all but the pungent scent of the warehouse, which clawed at your senses.

You felt the jostle of hands, the motion of being lifted, a sensation so distant it barely registered. The world was a smear of lights and faces — the team showing up, the paramedics — until it slowly came into focus.

You barely registered that Hotch was speaking to you, his words indistinct and muffled.

"What?" you asked, your speech slow to form and blurred at the edges.

You had a jacket over the front of you, his jacket, covering your exposed chest.

Hotch's eyes were pools of worry as he grasped at your hand. It was weird, the feeling of his hand in yours. You realized that was the first time you had felt it.

"More water?"

You could only nod, and he promptly fetched a bottle, twisting it open and placing it in your hand. You took a small sip.

"It's too loud," you mumbled, you were aware you weren't making sense. You shifted to face him, your knee grazing his thigh. "Did you mean those things you said?"

"Of course I didn't mean it," Hotch replied quickly, his gaze intense. "You thought I meant that?"

Your gaze dropped to your lap, voice faltering. "I don't know... I wasn't sure, I mean, no, but I just... I don't feel very useful, and this whole mess, it's because of me and I —,"

Tears interrupted you, your hands fumbling to hide them. Hotch reached out, gently turning your face to his, thumb brushing away the tears.

"Hey, look at me. Don't say that. This isn't your fault. Nothing I said back there was true. I needed to distract him, had to make him concentrate on you."

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying like this," you stammered between sobs.

"You don't have to apologize. You're crying because you've been through a lot. Just breathe, take your time."

You managed a wobbly smile. "You hit the nail on the head with the too emotional part," you sniffled.

Hotch gave a small chuckle. "Your compassion, your sensitivity, it's what sets you apart as an agent, in fact, it makes you an outstanding one."

You were close now, your gaze inadvertently drawn to his lips. You could kiss him if you wanted. Not that you were in the right headspace or that it was appropriate. But you could've.

"Oh, my goodness, I'm so glad you're okay!" You were barreled into a hug, the familiar voice and blur of color of Penelope enveloping your senses.

Hotch cautioned, "Watch her head."

With Penelope's hands around you, you found yourself looking over her shoulder, locking eyes with Hotch. His gaze held a new light, a recognition that maybe, just maybe you weren't Hotch's least favorite agent after all.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner hurt/comfort #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #criminal minds angst

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luveline · 1 year ago

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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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twistedwonderlandshenanigans · 9 months ago

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Hi, I was wondering if you could do an NRC Students (Except Ortho) x Reader, Where Reader and they are having a Romantic moment/Date, but it gets interrupted by Someone or Something?

Yeah of course!! Thank you for the req and for your patience, I know it's been FIVEEVER. My concrete sequential brain can't omit characters though, so Ortho is on here in a platonic like. babysitting/sibling outing way :D

I hope you enjoy <3

MC! GN! Reader - SOME ARE FLIRTY OKAY I'M FLIRTY IN THEORY AND NEED TO LET IT OUT

Ruining The Moment

**Every single one is different/written as it's own drabble. Apologies if some cut off abruptly, I struggle with knowing where to end things.

Heartslaybul

Riddle:

You and Riddle were studying together on one of the upper floors of the library. While quiet remarks had been made back and forth, more than anything, you both just enjoyed each other's company.

Neither of you had really noticed just how much time had passed since class had been out. Now, with the library being bathed in the warmth of the sunset, Riddle was about ready to pack up to ensure he made it back to his dorm in time for tea time. However, as he looked up from his work, he found himself pausing to study your visage.

The sunlight pouring in from the windows behind you made you look like you were glowing; ethereal. His eyes lingered on you, studying every inch of your expression, focused on the task at hand, which happened to be your history homework. The slight furrow of your brow, the sharpness in your eyes, determined to finish your work, the slight pout of your lips...

He found himself feeling shy all of a sudden, without much of an explanation. He wanted to compliment you - at least...to tell you how lovely you looked, his hand reaching gingerly across the table to try and hold your free one, but just as you noticed, he startled as a very distinctive voice cut through the other hushed chatter around the library.

"Eheee~ goldfishie!! And lil shrimpy, aww I get a two for one deal!! Whatchya guys doin'?"

Floyd came over, picking up one of Riddle's book and flicking through it, feigning interest, before looking bored and setting it aside.

"Blegh, have you guys seriously been here all d- eh?? Goldfishie, you're all red~ you're not mad though, are ya? Usually it takes more than that t'push your buttons."

Riddle seemed to be at a loss for words, opening his mouth as if to say something, then snapping it shut, just making Floyd giggle as he sat on the table and leaned backwards to talk to you.

"Ahhhha I see what's goin' on. You should ask goldfishie out, shrimpy, he ain't gonna do it himself otherwise."

Riddle somehow managed to flush even more, his cheeks nearly matching his face in colour.

"Yes I would! I just- I- If you hadn't so RUDELY interrupted our-"

Riddle's rambling was cut short by a soft peck on his cheek, causing him to sputter and look at you in disbelief. The rather smug look on your face combined with Floyd's rambunctious laughter was enough to render the redhead completely speechless, contemplating now, how the future would play out.

Trey:

He would never admit it, but these late night rendezvous in the kitchen were some of his favourite moments. He was always concerned about your journey from Ramshackle to Heartslaybul, but you always stayed on the phone with him while he prepped everything and you walked over.

Being the voice of reason in the dorm, as well as Riddle's handler often left him drained, but your presence and an empty, quiet kitchen were more than enough to make him feel better. There was also a bit of a thrill to it, as nobody knew the two of you were dating yet. He loved knowing that the two of you would be left to your own devices...that he would have your full, undivided attention.

You let him know you were getting to the front door, so he made sure to go unlock it for you, before heading back to the kitchen.

You walked in on him measuring a tablespoon of vinegar into a cup of milk.

"Won't that curdle it?"

Trey hummed in amusement, pulling you in gently against him.

"Yeah, that's the point. Buttermilk in red velvet cake is a must."

He leaned down to kiss you softly. Admittedly, it likely lasted longer than it felt, but he pulled away rather quickly, pulling you to his chest and turning you away from the sudden flash of light from the hallway. Hushed giggles and whispers were heard afterwards, rather panicked sounding as Trey's glare penetrated through the darkness.

He was about to pull out his pen to stop the footsteps that were clearly booking it down the hallway, but you gently lowered his hand. Though embarrassed, it was nothing worth expending magic on.

"People were gonna find out one way or another..."

Trey sighed softly, his face softening as he turned back towards you.

"True, I just wish it could have waited a little longer."

You smiled a bit mischievously.

"Well they're gone now, and it's not like anything we do at this point will change what they do with the photos. Want to continue where we left off?~"

Cater:

"Don't let me go."

"I'm not going to let you go."

"Don't let me go."

Cater laughed softly. "I couldn't let you go if I tried, you've got a vice grip on me right now."

He walked beside you slowly, letting you try and get used to the feeling of being on his skateboard, your forearms locked together to help you keep your balance, but you were still wearing a helmet as an added safety measure.

"Do you want to try giving yourself a little push? I'll still-"

"No, no thank you, this is still fine."

He couldn't help but chuckle again, finding you rather cute. He enjoyed being the person you were relying on for safety right now, and your focused face and determination to not fall were just too adorable to ignore! He tried to lean in to kiss your cheek, but you weren't expecting it, so you leaned away, tilting you backwards on the skateboard. Cater tripped over the skateboard as you tumbled backwards, but at the last moment, he managed to pull you on top of him and took the brunt of the fall instead, grunting a bit before laughing softly.

"Sevens, I'm sorry-"

"Are you okay??" You cut off his apology, more concerned about the fact he not only fell on the pavement, but that he had taken your weight along with it.

"Hm? Oh of course I am, Cay-Cay's taken MUCH rougher falls in a far less prepared manner. You can't get into skateboarding if you don't become an expert in how to fall properly." He hummed, rather satisfied with himself that you hadn't gotten hurt, sitting up and helping you sit up in the process.

You gave him a small, faux pout.

"Well, I'm afraid the only falling I'm an expert in, is head over heels for you."

You couldn't help but grin and wink as the ginger's face flushed a bit, a bashful smile a mile wide being hidden behind his hand.

Deuce:

"WOOOOOOOOOOOO DEUCE!!!!! GO DEUCE!! N-R-C, N-R-C!!!!!"

He could hear you cheering him on from the stands as he crossed the finish line, coming in first place. Pure elation coursed through him; not only had his training paid off and he had beaten RSA's competitors, but he had done it in front of you.

As soon as he got the go-ahead from coach Vargas, he was jogging off to come meet you at the bottom of the bleachers, a little out of sight of all the hubbub. He was absolutely beaming as he approached you. You had a small hand towel in one hand, and his water in the other. Despite this, and the fact Deuce had just run a race, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around you, laughing.

"I did it!!!"

"You did!! And I got it all on video for your mom too!"

He laughed again softly, hugging you a little tighter before letting you go.

"You're the best, you know that right? I really appreciate you coming here."

He averted his eyes for a moment, before leaning in to try and place a kiss on your cheek.

"Thank you for-"

"Deuce? Coach is looking for- ah-"

Jack averted his eyes awkwardly, his ears flattening, his tail tucking slightly, and rubbed the back of his neck a bit.

"Sorry if I'm interrupting something, but coach said he needs everyone...uh...back, I'll give you two a minute though...sorry-...sorry."

Even though you couldn't see Jack's face, you could hear the embarrassment in his voice as he slinked back from whence he came. Not to mention, Deuce's cheeks were flushed from both being "caught" and from the race.

Deuce stuttered a bit, trying to recover, but failed as you placed a soft kiss on his cheek instead.

"You should get back to your coach before he sends someone a little less considerate than Jack to come find you. You can return the kiss later, okay?"

You giggled softly, gently pushing him to go join his team lest he get into trouble with Vargas.

Ace: (OTL this is a little different sorry)

"You know you could have just done this right the first time and we wouldn't be stuck redoing this assignment for Crewel."

Ace mocked you through facial expression before responding.

"Yeah well if you had shown up at lunch like you were supposed to, we wouldn't be stuck here after school."

You rolled your eyes.

"You knew I had to talk to Crowley at lunch, your poor planning and listening skills are not my issue. I know I told you that the recipe only called for mustard seed and bat fur, not snake tongue. How do you even confuse that??"

You searched his face for answers, but he just turned his face away from you, a light blush on his face as he mumbled something under his breath. You huffed and rolled your eyes.

"Oh come on, I deserve an explanation as to why you did it. There's no way it wasn't on purpose."

He sighed, puffing his cheeks just slightly and restating what he said.

"Maybe I just wanted to spend time with you"

With the cauldron bubbling, it was rather difficult to hear him, so you just shot him a confused look.

"Dude, speak u-"

"I wanted to hang out, okay?! Like. One on one. You're always so busy with your...rEspOnsiBilItiEs and...taking care of everyone and babysitting Grim, I feel bad trying to ask for some of your time when I know it's a precious commodity and this was the only way I could think of doing it, okay?! Just....we'll get this over with and then you can go."

His face stayed flushed, his safety googles too fogged up to see his eyes. You were stunned into silence for a moment, before you tried to reach for his hand. You startled away however, as Crewel's crop hit the edge of the cauldron.

"I take it you two pups are staying on task?"

You gave him a strained smile. "Of course Professor."

Ace silently added the last of the ingredients before using a funnel and ladle to help him add the brew into an Erlynmeyer flask, leaving it open to cool and nodding slightly at it as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"That should be it, it just needs to cool and then put a stopper on it."

Crewel grabbed the neck of the flask, his gloves thick enough to withstand the heat as he swirled the contents gently and studied the fluid. He nodded slightly.

"Get some tape, label it properly, then you'll be dismissed. I'll take care of clean up and storage. Well done."

The professor cracked a smile at the two of you as you nodded to acknowledge him, thanking him before moving to join Ace at the desk. He was writing your names, the date, the class - all as expected for the label, but now that you were a little bit away from the professor, you waited for him to put the tape down before holding his hand gently, speaking quietly.

"Ace, time might be a precious commodity, but you're precious to me too, okay? Grim should still be with Deuce and Epel for a little while. Once we get out of here let's go get slurpees or something, okay?"

It took Ace a moment to buffer, his hand coming up to cover his face in an attempt to hide just how flustered being called 'precious' got him. Near immediately, the crack of Crewel's crop was heard, making both of you startle.

"Gloves do not go near your face Trappola. That's a health hazard."

He gave the two of you a bit of a knowing smile as Ace nodded meekly at the reprimand, still reeling from the fact you had just asked him out.

You slid your gloves off and lifted your safety googles, grinning.

"Sound like a deal?"

Ace smiled shyly but tried to play it off as he followed suite.

"You sound like Azul. Yeah, sure, I GUESS we can go get slurpees."

Savanaclaw

Leona:

"You really think you're hot shit, don't you?"

You couldn't help but laugh softly at the lion beastman. This man really tried to kabedon you and expected you to take him seriously. Yeah right. Amusement was written all over your face, which on one hand was a little unexpected, but on the other, just made it all the more entertaining for him too - he didn't mind a challenge if the prize was you.

"I might think something like that, yeah. You got an issue with that herbivore?" His voice carried a bit of a playful growl to it as he leaned in closer, going so far as to nip at your ear lightly.

His ear flicked slightly in annoyance as he backed up just a tiny bit; a group of panicked first years came barreling down the otherwise empty hallway.

"THERE'S TWO MINUTES BEFORE CREWEL SAID IT'S DUE"

"YEAH NO SHIT, BUT HE WASN'T IN HIS CLASS HE BETTER BE IN HIS OFFICE"

"DUDE YOUR SHOELACES-"

"WATCH OUT!!!"

Leona grumbled something about them being a nuisance, but you watched in horror as the poor boy holding the potion he was so urgently trying to get to Crewel tripped over his friends shoelaces. For everyone save for Leona, you're sure time slowed right down as the potion flew out of the boys hand, the stopper flew out of the bottle, and the potion landing all over Kingscholar.

At the very least, the boy who tripped didn't hit the floor as Leona yanked him up by the back of his shirt, growling.

"What the FUCK did you just spill on me?"

The boy was winded and whiplashed, but his friends seemed to be a mix of distraught and trying not to laugh. Leona growled, tossing the boy to the side gently to let him get on his feet, before nodding and growling at the group of bystanders.

"WHAT WAS IT?"

You had to suppress your own laughter as Leona started to shrink in front of you.

One of the boys laughed nervously.

"It's a shrinking potion, it's really nothing dangerous!! And ah- we really really need the mark for Crewel's class so...we're really sorry but we're gonna have to take you in as proof we completed it!!"

Leona looked bewildered, his ears flattened against his head as he growled, though it sounded rather...cute as he continued to shrink.

"No! You touch me I'll turn you to sand!! You're going to regret this!!"

You couldn't help but join in on the giggle fit in the hallway, the once tall and mighty Leona reduced to mere inches. Despite his protesting, you lifted him by the back of his shirt like it was his scruff, poking his chest gently with your other hand.

"Mm, well, I think it's bad enough they'll be getting a 20% dock on their mark, so we're going to help them out and submit you as proof."

Leona growled, his hands holding your finger tightly as if it could do anything to stop you.

"....I'll make it up to you later, or you can choose to refuse but I'm going to tell Malleus about this."

Even at his minuscule size, you could see the flash of anger in his eyes at the mention of Malleus.

"Don't you dare bring this up to the lizard...fine. We'll....we'll go to Crewel's...but if ANY of you breathe a word of this to ANYONE else, turning you to sand will be a show of MERCY."

Ruggie:

"And the crowd goes wild as Ruggie Bucci scores one more goal for Savanaclaw right before half time! He couldn't have cut it closer if he'd tried!"

The announcer kept rambling about one thing or another, but your eyes were on your boyfriend as he, (rightfully), showboated a little on his broom, working the crowd a bit. His smile was downright adorable as he did so, before he finally made eye contact with you and it got a lot more devious.

He shot up on his broom into direct sunlight, so when you tried to follow him with your eyes, it took a few seconds of blinking before you saw him hanging upside down by his knees on his broom in front of you. His tail had to be wagging a mile a minute as he giggled a bit.

"Shyeeheehee heya sweetheart~ you're a real pretty face to be showin' up around here. Y'got a boyfriend?"

This little shit

He knew he was just out of reach for a kiss, and while amused, you tried to conceal it under a mask of being jokingly mad.

"You know, if you had a significant other, they might not be too impressed with these shenanigans."

Ruggie stuck his tongue out a bit.

"I'm pretty confident I'm cute enough to get out of any sort of trouble with them."

Your expression was pretty telling that that was exactly what the case was. He snickered and came close enough to hold your face, teasing you with the possibility of a kiss before he just shed his jacket and tossed it at you instead. The whistle blew, and Ruggie sat back upright on his broom despite the indignant sound you made.

"I'LL KISS YOU AFTER I WIN IT FOR SAVANACLAW!!"

Jack:

Even though the first time you had attended Magift practice at Savanaclaw you had been...given a concussion by Grim via magift disc to the head, it wasn't enough to keep you away for good.

Jack had invited you, (and reluctantly allowed Grim), to come watch morning practice. (But only if you wanted to.)

Before he had even seen you, his ear flicked and his tail started wagging just from recognizing your footsteps. He had to keep his attention on Leona during the brief as a sign of respect, but as soon as Leona dismissed the debrief, he flashed you a bright smile and waved at your spot on the bleachers.

It was clear to everyone playing, Jack was distracted, as he kept glancing over at you after every play, to the point where Leona had to stop the disc from hitting Jack square in the jaw and call a recess.

Jack didn't seem to realize the break was done because of him. You couldn't hear from where you were, but whatever Leona said to Jack made the freshman's ears flatten and tail tuck a bit. Leona shook his head a bit before gently shoving Jack in your general direction, Ruggie looking rather amused at the entire interaction.

Jack approached you, a little bashful and ashamed as he rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes.

"Ah...uhm...for some reason...Leona thinks you being around is a distraction to me...which is NOT true, but he doesn't think it's safe for me to play as long as you're here...which is dumb, because...I wasn't distracted."

You couldn't help but grin a little, using your height on the bleachers to meet him right at eye level. You didn't make him look at you, but you knew he certainly felt like he should.

"Wanna look at me and try saying that again?~"

Jack sputtered a bit, his cheeks feeling warm and feeling as if he needed to take a step back as you just gave him a bigger shit eating smile, stepping down from the bleachers until you were right in front of him, trying to get him to look at you, though he covered his face partially with his hand.

"Okay, that's enough, if you keep teasing him he's not gonna be able to focus for the entire day."

Leona sighed, shaking his head and holding his head with three of his fingers.

"I'm surprised his tail isn't sprained from how fast it's been wagging shyeheehee" Ruggie snickered, and you stepped back, shrugging innocently.

"I wasn't teasing, I was just-"

"That's enough I said. You can go wait by the mirror entrance or go back to Ramshackle. Somebodies puppy crush is a hazard to himself, so if he's still acting a fool he'll come meet you soon."

Octavinelle

Azul: (extremely Flirty MC SORRY LKSJHFLKSDJF)

"It's good isn't it?"

As much as he detested that smug tone, there was no way he could deny just how much he had enjoyed the meal you had prepared, ready to offer a trade.

He sighed.

"You're obviously skilled. I would be willing to pay for the recipe in exchange for giving you free food at the end of the night."

The less food waste recorded the better, and you needed to save every cent you could...not to mention, just giving you the trash food at the end of the night would save him the trouble of hiring you, going through the onboarding process, and having to pay you. Hopefully you would go for the free food, considering it enough compensation for the rest of the time you were here.

What he didn't expect, was for you to laugh, taking a seat on his desk and serving another forkful of food, holding it up to his lips.

"Oh come on now Azul. Do you really think I can't provide for myself? I didn't come here for that type of trade~"

Azul felt his cheeks flush, gently pushing the fork aside as he averted his eyes, his mind deciding to entertain a train of thought that was more emotional than logical...surely you weren't implying what he thought you were.

He chanced a glance back at you, only to be met with that...infuriatingly conniving smile he found aggravatingly stunning.

Your smile only widened. "What's wrong Azul? Not in the market for a kiss or two?~" You leaned closer to him, a pathetic squeak leaving him before you heard a very polite clearing of the throat from near the entrance of Azul's office.

"I'm so very sorry if I'm interrupting something, but your next clients are here Azul. It would be rude to keep them waiting." Jade flashed a polite, but strained smile at you, hoping you would get the message.

You sighed softly, blowing a kiss over your shoulder as you left the room.

"Enjoy the rest of your meal Azul~ You've got my number if you want it again!"

Jade: (sorry this doesn't quite fit the bill but I think it's cute)

"It's not much further. Please, be cautious of where you step, the moss can be quite slippery."

You fought to not pant trying to follow Jade. You had only agreed to this hike because he said it was beginner-friendly, and he had seemed SO excited when he had told you about a mushroom species he was eager to find.

Yet here you were, scaling a small waterfall, watching Jade's every step to try and follow for the sake of not DYING.

Maybe that was a bit dramatic, but the point was, whether it was due to embarrassment, or not wanting to get hurt, you didn't plan on falling in front of Jade.

Jade made it up first, offering you a smile and his hand to help pull you up.

Part of you thought about how he might pull you close once you got up, but that was quickly dashed as he kept you nearly an arms length away. A small pout threatened to form on your lips, but you just smiled and thanked him for his assistance. He nodded slightly, before venturing forward.

"The mushrooms I thought I saw shouldn't be much farther. Do make sure you stay cl-"

A yelp left Jade as he slipped on the very moss he had warned you about. You weren't entirely sure what made you think you could catch him, but your body acted before your mind. It must have been the adrenaline, or maybe a desperate need to impress him, because somehow you managed to catch and support the merman before he hit the ground so you could gently place him down, you staring down at him in confusion, and him looking up at you in absolute bewilderment. You weren't exactly what took over, but before Jade could say anything, you could feel a shit eating grin grow on your face as your heart felt as though it was pounding out of your chest.

"Falling for me hard and fast, huh?"

Jade looked shocked, but amused, picking himself off the ground, before matching your height with a small smile as he spoke softly in your ear.

"Did it take you this long to notice?~"

Floyd:

It was 3am.

It was 3 in the fucking morning when you heard a crack from your front door.

And yet, your sense of self-preservation went completely out of the window as the smell of your favourite meal started to fill Ramshackle. Making sure you didn't wake Grim, you gingerly left your bed, curiousity getting the better of you as you made your way down the stairs.

You took a peek at the front door as you came down, expecting splinters, but from what you could see, it was completely fine. You could hear soft humming and scatting coming from the kitchen, giving you a pretty good idea of who was in there. You couldn't help the smile that played over your lips as you watched Floyd use your kitchen utensils as drumsticks, making sure to stop right before they made contact with anything while he vocalized the drumline instead. You assumed it was an attempt to be quiet, but as soon as he heard the floorboards creak, his attention locked onto you and he pushed his headphones back as he beamed.

"Floyd wh-"

"Shrimpyy!!! I got bored and Azul took my key for the Mostro Lounge so I came here. Gotta few recipes I felt like makin', 'nd I know you ain't comin' by food easily. Figured you could be my taste tester in exchange for me usin' your kitchen. Also I broke the lock on your door cuz I lost the key ya gave me, but I fixed it too so don't get mad about it."

If it were anyone else, you may have gotten a little pissy, maybe asked for more of an explanation, but Floyd's animated nature and excitement as he continued his little drumming session had you smiling fondly. You sat at one of the stools on the far side of the island in comparison to Floyd, watching him work.

"I'm fine by that." You couldn't help but wonder a little bit, what had kept Floyd up this late, but you knew asking would likely only kill his mood, and that was the last thing you wanted. Not just because he was cooking FOR you, but he seemed so happy doing so...it wasn't worth it, he was clearly distracting himself with whatever kept him up with this.

By serving you.

Your mind wandered to a few other times Floyd had looked out for you in his...unique way. You must have zoned out for longer than you thought, as you were brought back to the present as Floyd waved a piece of food in front of you. He looked at you expectantly.

"Well are ya gonna have a taste?"

Your eyes flicked up to his mismatched ones as you offered a mischievous smile.

"Of the food or your lips?"

His eyes widened slightly, before he started giggling, then leaned over the island.

"Well I wouldn't be opposed t'ya tryin' both~"

You were so close to him, your stomach and heart doing flips just as you leaned in and-

"MRAH?! FLOYD???! GET AWAY FROM MY HENCH HUMAN!!"

Possibly the fastest you'd ever witnessed Grim move, he launched himself at Floyd's face, managing to land a kick and effectively move you and Floyd apart.

The food he had offered you plopped unceremoniously onto the counter as Floyd made a spitting noise, and Grim stood protectively, panting, staring Floyd down.

"That's right! Ya better not be scarin' my hench human! You're lucky all you got was a mouthful of fur, I'll light you up next time!!"

After a beat of silence, Floyd started to giggle.

"Ehee~ Seaaaalie, ya sure got some nerve interrupti-"

"Aha, you were hidin' food!! I can't believe you did this, I thought you loved me prefect." Grim's ears folded down, the pout audible in his voice as he scooped up the food that had landed on the counter, oblivious to the now murderous glare Floyd was giving him.

You couldn't help but chuckle, getting up just enough to move closer to Floyd. With the cat distracted and fanboying over the food, it was easier to relinquish Floyd's anger without another interruption. You grabbed his shirt and tugged him to you, grinning.

"I missed out on tasting that bite, but I won't miss out on enjoying you~"

Scarabia

Kalim:

You were just sitting on the front steps of Ramshackle, watching as the sunset painted the sky in beautiful red, orange, pink and purple hues. A slight breeze kept the lingering heat of the day at bay, the only sound you could hear being the slight chirping of birds. Grim was currently, at least supposedly, with Ace and Deuce at Heartslaybul, meaning all three thirds of the braincell were not your responsibility.

God was life always this boring without them around?? Yeah, sure, the peace and quiet could be nice but it felt weird now, where was the drama, the tension, the shenanigans, the tomfoolery?? You rubbed your face with your hands, groaning a bit out loud. Were you seriously so wired to this world's madness now that a moment of peace felt like you were just waiting for something to go wrong?

".....MC?"

Your head shot up, to the voice that was coming from above you.

"Kalim?? What are you doing here?" You smiled, moving to stand up as he descended slightly on his carpet, somewhat dismissing his concerned expression.

"Ah- well um, I was gonna come and ask if you wanted to come to Scarabia tonight for a party! But then I got in trouble with Jamil and he didn't know the party was gonna happen so I didn't want to throw it anymore, but I still wanted to hang out with you! If you're not busy that is. I can take you on a magic carpet ride!"

Oh thank the sevens, someone was going to relieve you of your weird, anxious boredom.

"Scooch over, I'm getting on." There was a lilt of amusement to your voice as you clambered on behind Kalim, wrapping your arms around him, gently resting your cheek against his shoulder. He giggled softly in response, making sure that the two of you rose slowly away from the ground.

"Where'd you wanna go? I can take you over the school, we could go to the field and cheer on the track team, we could even go to the beach! Ah, but if Jamil caught us he might get grumpy, so maybe we should stay on campus."

You hummed softly. "Honestly, I just want company right now. If you just take us to the top of NRC and let us watch the sunset together, that'll be more than enough for me right now."

"I can do that!! Hold on to me, okay??" You nodded a bit against his shoulder, and he took off.

Though he had to speak a bit louder over the rush of wind in your ears, you could hear him perfectly well as he spoke.

"You know, back home, there's a story about this sort of thing, there's even a song! I'll sing it to you if you want!"

"It might be better if you wait until we stop flying-"

"Nonono, part of the whole appeal is singing WHILE flying." He glanced back at you, his puppy dog eyes working their own kind of magic before you silently agreed. His expression lit up immediately as he began to sing.

"I can show you the woAGHOU"

Kalim's hand went to beat on his chest, causing you to yelp as the two of you started to careen forward. You reached forward and tugged up on the magic carpet, narrowly avoiding running into the school and sent the two of you sprawling into the grass instead.

You were glad your hands made contact with the ground first; it made it somewhat easier to help roll Kalim away from eating dirt, and to stop yourself from colliding into his back.

It took a moment for both of you to collect yourselves after you hit the ground, but in less than thirty seconds you were both on your knees, looking at each other. Somehow you managed to ask at the exact same time, "are you okay??!", followed by a beat of silence, and then laughter.

Jamil: (this killed me to write so I'm sorry it's not as good as the other ones/not quite the same)

Jamil had invited you to the Scalding Sands. Rather, Kalim had beat him to the punch, as there was an event going on he wanted you to attend. Jamil had offered to let you come with him a day or two before, seeing as he was supposed to be there early to assist his parents with preparations. As if he needed to entice you further, (and convince Kalim it was a good idea), he offered to give you a tour of the palace.... nobody wanted you to be victim to the expansive maze that the Al-Asim's property was after all.

Well, that was the excuse you both rolled with.

The streets were buzzing with energy, vendors calling out everywhere, sights and smells and sounds of the market filling your senses, but your focus was on something else entirely.

Jamil wasn't a touchy person, but he had been the one to take your hand. His hand held onto yours firmly, leading you with confidence through the bustling streets of Silk City. Despite the errands you were running with him, he insisted on being the one to hold everything. He was also incredibly patient as he stopped anytime you inquired about something.

However, it was him who slowed down upon seeing a small crowd congregate around what you could only assume was some sort of street performer, music playing. He had brushed past most others, but he worked his way through the crowd, seemingly curious to see who was at the center of attention. No sooner had you made it to the front of the crowd that one of the dancers lit up and called out to Jamil, greeting him as if they were old friends.

"Do you know them?"

Jamil had a bit of a mischievous smile on his face. "You could say that."

You quirked your brow as his 'friend(?)' came over, the two of them speaking rapidly in Arabic as they shared a quick hug. Jamil switched back into English, introducing you to his friend.

His friend wore a bit of shit eating smile. "You know Jamil dances, right? Did you ever wonder how he learned?"

"Now hold on, don't go crediting yourself for that, I taught myself."

"If you count flailing like a monkey as dancing, then yes, you did, but as an art? You only got to where you're at because of me."

Jamil tsked and rolled his eyes, waving his friend off, though it was clear it was light hearted.

"You haven't seen me dance in ages."

"Right, I'm sure you've had pleeeenty of time to practice at that fancy college of yours."

You couldn't help but interrupt their bickering by taking everything from Jamil's hands and shoving him forward a bit.

"Just let him show you what he's got."

Both of them looked at you in slight disbelief, but amused.

"MC we really don't have the ti-"

"Are you scared of embarrassing yourself Viper? Come on, if your date says you're as good as you claim you still are, you should have no issue joining us for one song. Just like old times."

His friend could see the gears in both of your heads come to a screeching halt, even if for just a moment. Sure, you had wanted it to be something like that, but hearing it put so bluntly...

You wrapped your arm around Jamil's waist with a shit-eating grin, ignoring the rising heat to your own cheeks.

"My boyfriend plays down his abilities all the time. I hope you're ready to be humbled." Before pushing him into the middle of the ring.

Despite his slightly flustered state, you could have sworn you heard him whisper about how he would get you back for that, a promise you could only hope he would keep.

Pomefiore

Vil:

"I told you to stop moving." His voice, though slightly irritated was just as amused as you struggled to stop laughing.

"But it tickles. Can't I just put it on with my hands?"

An offended gasp left Vil as he tilted your face slightly, brushing on more of the facemask. "No you heathen, we can't just apply it with our hands."

"What if. I washed my hands super super well." His expression left you giggling again as he sighed and pulled the brush away, his faux frustration melting away to a soft smile, shaking his head.

"Sometimes even I struggle to tell when you're just teasing or when you're serious." He chuckled softly, reapplying a bit of product to the brush to continue putting it on your face. You tried not to scrunch your nose, but sevens, he was applying it so lightly it felt weird!

As absorbed as you were in the feeling of the brush, he considered what your reaction might be if he were to kiss you this very moment. He knew that of all the people in the school, he was the only one who had achieved this level of casual intimacy. As good as he was at reading other people's emotions, the nagging anxiety of reading you, specifically, wrong could be the end of the friendship he held so dear. Of course, even if you were to reject him, you were both old enough to be mature about it, but rejection was not something Vil handled well.

He was pulled from his thoughts as he realized just how close he had gotten. Hell, your breathing had hitched at his closeness, eyes wide as your mind raced with possibilities. Vil SO wanted to kiss you in that moment, but his door flung open with a bang, startling the two of you apart. Vil shot the intruder a dirty look.

Epel was out of breath, bent over, pale and wincing as he looked to his housewarden in his P.E uniform, not noticing you there.

"I SHOT ROOK."

Vil's face went from mildly frustrated to near fear for his vice housewarden, until the mans laugh from down the hall echoed into the room.

"Oui. I believe it's nothing major, but you are more versed in healing magic than I am Vil."

Rook came into view, holding an arrow that was firmly lodged into his shoulder, his smile subdued from pain, but genuine.

Vil immediately came over, getting over his initial shock and ire in favour of helping Rook.

You got up from the bed, mostly with the intention of teasing Epel, but he took one glance at you and couldn't help but laugh breathlessly.

"You look like y'got mayo on your face."

"You're about to have disappointment on yours."

"Huh?"

You nodded towards Vil , who evidently didn't feel confident in removing the arrow at the dorm, chiding Rook for coming to him instead of going to the infirmary.

"If that's the talking to Rook's getting, I can only imagine yours."

"....aw shit."

Rook: (insert distressed Sebek emoji I've become far too reliant on on Discord to convey my Feelings because I'm Just Hoping this suffices for the Rook Fans.)

You could hear knocking at the door, light, but insistent. You were slightly annoyed - Grim could open the door by himself...at least he could if he were home. You forgot that you had given him "permission", (AKA, you had begged Vil to let Epel keep him around for a night to give yourself a night to relax), to go to a "sleepover".

So who was knocking at your bedroom door?

You felt a wave of anxiety wash over you, until a soft voice came from beyond the door.

"Mon trickster, I know you are awake. May I come in?"

Your brain needed a moment to buffer before you responded.

"Rook?"

As if there was any question about it, you chided yourself a tiny bit, but Rook took it as an invitation to come in, smiling warmly and waving a bit as he entered the room.

"Bonjour. I was hoping to whisk you away for a mome-"

"What are you doing here??"

Your question was as amused as it was...a little concerned.

"Why didn't you knock at the front door?"

Rook tilted his head a bit, as if he were surprised you were questioning him.

"Ah, I did, but upon not getting a response and knowing you were up, I let myself in. Do not fret, nothing is broken. I wouldn't want to leave you without a reliable lock on your door. However, I do respect your privacy, so I knocked before coming into your bedroom."

He smiled softly as you wondered just how reliable that lock was, before Rook continued.

"As for my presence in our home, I was hoping to treat you to a relaxing night. I know Monsieur Fuzzball is currently occupied."

He fully stepped into the room, and only then did you note the picnic basket in his hand, complete with a blanket on top. The flash of interest didn't go unnoticed by Rook - why would it? He smiled and held it up a little bit.

"These are the leftovers of the food I helped some of the dorm members make, undetected by Vil. I thought we could have a few snacks while we stargaze...then again, I could gaze at the most lovely star I know if we were to stay inside."

A sly smile grew as he winked at you playfully, causing you to look away a little bit.

"So? What do you say my dear?"

Somehow, when you lifted your head again to look at him, he was next to your bed and awaiting your answer with a fond expression.

You couldn't help but push his face away a bit, laughing a little flustered as you got out of bed, causing him to giggle a bit too.

"We can go up. I would love to stargaze with you."

At least, you would have.

Rook had shown you how to get up there, your common sense returning as you remembered just how dilapidated Ramshackle was when you showed up- you hadn't spent nearly as much time fixing up the outside of Ramshackle as you had on the inside. You scooted yourself nervously onto the ledge, just enough to be secure, though Rook reassured you he had done this dozens of times, (he had?), and there was no reason to worry.

Despite his reassurance, he let you stay where you were so he could set up the blanket, walking confidently and lightly across Ramshackle's roof. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you, crickets chirping and the buzz of other insects filling the air, as well as the now familiar creaks and groans of the old house settling beneath you two.

Rook hummed softly, satisfied with the set up and came back to get you, his hand outstretched. He smiled warmly, the moonlight only serving to make his already attractive features more stunning.

"Will you join me for our date, mon tri-"

Just as you reached out for his hand, both of you heard a loud creak. Despite his best efforts, Rook let out a soft, but discernable "Merde" as he fell through Ramshackles roof, laying winded in the attic on his back trying to gather his thoughts.

Obviously concerned, you peeked into the sizeable hole in your roof, peering down at the blond.

"....Are you okay????"

You tried to suppress your laughter, but at his slightly bewildered look, followed by a grin and thumbs up, both of you bubbled into giggles.

He stood up, then reached out towards you.

"I'll catch you. We can continue down here instead my dear."

You smiled and slid your legs over the hole, letting it be future you's problem as you hummed, giving him a cheeky grin.

"Promise? Because I've already fallen for you a hundred times before."

His eyes widened slightly, before smiling a little bit more.

"Then this time, I promise to catch you and never let you fall again, mon amour."

Epel: (this one is different sorry)

You could see him, just barely, peeking through the classroom doors narrow window. The tell tale purple poof of hair was hard to miss.

Evidently, Crewel's class had gotten out a little early, and here you were between Ace and Deuce, listening to Trein drone on about something he already covered. With Passion. You held in a ragged sigh, glancing at the clock on the wall, willing for the seconds to tick by faster.

Finally, the bell rang, Trein's voice being drowned out by the shuffling of bags and students making their way to the door.

In all the hubbub, you had managed to get squished in an Adeuce sandwich as they walked you out the door, Ace's teasing voice lilting in amusement.

"Where ya runnin' off to so fast preeeeefect? Got a special someone waitin' for you?"

Deuce chimed in, though gentler in his tone.

"I saw a certain someone looking at you through the window....mostly 'cus Lucius meowed at him peeking, but-"

You groaned, elbowing them both in the ribs as you saw fit, shaking them off your shoulders. Gods you hated to love them and loved to hate them the little shits. You and Epel were just friends. That was all there was to it. Grumbles and giggles followed behind you from the two of them as you managed to make it out of the classroom.

You were just friends.

....then why did your stomach do a flip when you looked at Epel and he greeted you with that boyish grin of his?

Ignihyde

Idia: (also don't come after me for nobody recognizing Lilia's voice assume he has a voice changer or something idk)

"Brb, my brother needs me for something."

You and Muscle Red responded softly, hearing as "Gloomurai" AKA "Gloomy" AKA Idia Shroud got up from his desk, leaving you and his friend alone.

Now, you only knew it was Idia because you usually would game together in his room, so it wasn't like he didn't know it was you on the other side either, you just had finally had the means to get your own set up and wanted to test it out. Idia and Muscle Red had plans already, but neither of them minded you joining them as you had a couple times before.

But you and Red had never been left together before. And just like IRL, being left with a friends friend left some amount of awkwardness to be had.

You held in a breath of relief as Red spoke up.

"So, how long have you and Gloomy known each other?"

"Just under a year. We go to the same school together."

"Oho? You've met in person then? Forgive me if I'm being invasive, but please do tell, what's he like? We've been online friends for years, I can't help but be a teensy bit curious about the man behind the screen."

You waited a beat. You knew part of the reason that Idia didn't share much about his personal life was because of his reasoning behind not wanting to ever feel too close to the people he connecting with online...yet Red was one of his best friends. And you wouldn't overshare, you could just share your thoughts on him. Besiiiides it wasn't like Idia would hear you gushing about him to his friend, he had left his desk to go help Ortho with something.

"....well...Gloomy is a pretty introverted guy but...as I've gotten to know him better? He can be really sweet, and passionate about the things he loves. He's a little shy and awkward, but I think it's part of his charm. He's also, just. Gorgeous. But don't tell him I said that."

Mischievous laughter came from Red as an audible "Idia dying" sound came through your headphones.

"You know, after being able to know our dear friend, I would have thought you'd have known Gloomurai wears Bluetooth headphones." You felt a little embarrassed as Red chuckled again.

"I told you Gloomy, that they liked you back. You've got no doubt about it now. I'll leave you two lovebirds alone~"

The telltale blip of him disconnecting left the two of you in incredibly awkward silence, until Idia had the guts to ask.

"D...d-do you really think all that?"

Ortho: (platonic, obviously)

"Ah, there you are Prefect, I tried to call and text, I even dropped by Ramshackle to see if you were there, how courteous am I to have sought you out to hand deliver your tasks for the week, aren't I just the best?"

Ortho could all but see the light drain from not only your eyes, but your expression as a whole as Crowley continued to ramble on about his generous nature.

How dare he? This was supposed to be you and him time. You had even less time than Idia to dedicate to hanging out together, because of how hard you worked for the headmage.

Before you really had a chance to acknowledge the headmage, Ortho got in between the two of you, getting in Crowley's face a little bit, floating to ensure the man would see him eye to eye.

"You're interrupting my time with the prefect sir. This is my one and only warning for you to stop."

Crowley took a slight step back, flabbergasted at the boys behaviour before he brushed his outfit down as if he was calming ruffled feathers.

"Well...I really must speak to the prefect Ortho, it's no small matter and you're far too young to underst-"

"I gave you a warning Sir. If it's no small matter, then it's probably your responsibility anyways. Instead of pawning off your less than desirable tasks to the prefect, why don't you think a little harder about what sort of stress that puts them under when they've already dealt with overblots completely unassisted. They've done more than enough for you and the school, and will no longer be at your beck and call, mkay? My brother and I can make sure they get the money they need so they don't have to work for you at all anymore. So now, you know that they won't be doing your dirty work anymore, you and your shadow can go back to your office and be the pathetic mess of a man you are on your own because you've got no friends, no family, and no significant relationships in your life to ease the ache of loneliness. Goodbye."

Without waiting for a response, Ortho grabbed the headmage by the shoulders and turned him away from you, giving him a light push towards the school before returning to your side.

"I know where we can find some really cool rocks, follow me!!"

DIASOMNIA (RIP my braincells, sorry guys)

Malleus: I'm so sorry this man. It's more platonic than anything.

"See that one? It's modeled after Corvus corax, the Common raven. And that gargoyle is similar, though the subtle differences imply it's modeled after Corvus corone, the Carrion crow."

He smiled rather proudly at you, glad to share and show off his knowledge to someone he cared for so deeply.

"What do you think?"

"I think I like the fox grotesque more."

A small 'hm?' left Draconia, a bit of a look of shock on his face until he registered that you were teasing, a playful smile playing over his lips.

"Only you would jest with me so casually Child of Man." He chuckled softly, patting your head. "Thank you for accompanying me today for club hours. I've rather enjoyed having someone else to speak to."

He turned towards you more, gently taking your face in his hand, rubbing your cheek gently with his thumb.

"It's not often I feel as appreciated as I do with you. Thank you, for everything you've do-"

"WAKASAMAAAAA"

Sebek's pathetic bleating drew both of your attention, an almost annoyed sounding huff leaving Malleus as he let go of your face, though stepped closer to you as Silver and Sebek ran up to the both of you.

"Wakasama, we've been looking for you everywhere! We were so worried-"

"We were not..."

"That we may never find you again!!"

"You're so dramatic..." Silver shook his head a bit, sighing.

"Apologies Malleus. Fa- Lilia sent for you. He went to your meeting for you and wants to fill you in."

He wore a slight pout on his lips, but nodded.

"I understand. Thank you Silver." He turned towards you, offering a slight bow. "I'll see you in due time, child of man. Until next time."

Lilia: (a little different, sorry)

"Kehehehe, are you excited prefect?"

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes. Of course of all the people you could have been paired with for home ec. you got Lilia Vanrouge....not that you minded entirely, he was pretty cute.

But being cute didn't get you good grades, and it certainly didn't improve your cooking ability.

You tapped the end of your wooden spoon against his nose.

"I'll be excited if you and I can pull this off successfully. No experimenting with the recipe, okay?"

Lilia sighed dramatically, sticking out his tongue.

"Fine. Ruin my fun. That's fine." He giggled a bit afterwards, scooping the recipe card up just as Crewel placed it down, not giving you so much as a glance at it.

"Alright, you ready? Let me read the ingredients to you."

You gave him a bit of a dirty look, only to be greeted with a wide grin. He took the spoon from your hand, gently booping your nose back.

"Aw come on~ you trust me, don't you? And you already took away my other fun, let me have this!"

Despite your better judgement, you relented.

He kept his promise- everything seemed reasonable as he read it out to you.

"Whisk two cups of AP flour, two and a half teaspoons of baking powder and a pinch of salt in a large bowl."

"Got it."

"Then beat the eggs until aerated, and slowly add the sugar. While you add sugar to the eggs, give me a kiss to give me some sugar too. By the time we're done, the eggs should be triple their size."

"Got- huh"

You turned around, bewildered at what you had heard, to see Lilia's cheeky grin.

"Well prefect, are you gonna follow the recipe card?"

You gave him a playful smile, gently pushing his face away from yours, leaving you both in giggles.

"I'll follow what the card actually says....and if this turns out, maybe I'll give you that kiss."

Silver:

"This is my favourite place to feed the wild rabbits....I know it's not great for them, but they deserve a little treat every once in a while just like everyone else."

Silver's voice was soft as a small group of wild rabbits hopped around the two of you, as if they were pets. The two of you sat under the shade of one of the many apple trees of Night Raven College. Silver used a dagger to expertly cut into the ripe, unbruised apples he had picked out for the rabbits, claiming they deserved better than the fallen fruit.

You watched him, how focused he was, yet how soft he looked under the dappled shadows casted on him from the leaves above. He caught you watching, glancing at you and cracking just the slightest smile as he cut a piece of the apple and handed it to you,

"The grey one is super friendly. You can try feeding it. You'll probably be allowed to pet her too."

You thanked him softly, so as not to startle your furry friends and heeded his advice. You weren't exactly surprised when his advice paid off, though you still let out a soft sound of content as the bunny hopped into your lap, allowing you to pet it gently.

You heard Silver hum softly. "She really likes you. You should come here with me more often."

You couldn't help but smile a little shyly at that. "I would lo-"

"HEY WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING??!!!"

Kalim's piercing voice cut through the quiet, peaceful environment the two of you had, startling all of you, but most of all the rabbits as they scattered and disappeared into the bushes, making Silver sigh softly in disappointment before offering you a small smile.

"We can get them back after. Let me talk to Kalim. I'll be right back." His gaze lingered a moment longer than it should have before he got up. You felt a bit of a funny feeling in your chest as you entertained the thought of him kissing you, trying to erase the thought before he would be able to tell.

Sebek:

"How did you even manage this human?"

Sebek had to bite his tongue, trying to keep his voice down so as to not spook your horse.

Somehow, your boot had slipped all the way through the stirrup, but nothing you or he did got your foot or boot loose enough to pull it back through. He tried to pull your boot off too, but that had just hurt.

You were trying really hard to not laugh. Yes it was inconvenient and uncomfortable, but how you managed to get yourself in this position was as funny to you as it was frustrating to Sebek.

You had asked Riddle for assistance at first, but Silver had called his attention over for something more pressing, so he had appointed Sebek to help you.

Sebek let out a frustrated bellow as yet another attempt was met with no progress, your horse side stepping away from him anxiously. You patted your horse gently and just looked at Sebek apologetically.

"You can just wait til Riddle or Silver can help with magic. It's not like the pain is unbearable."

"No. I was tasked with releasing you from your saddle. I will complete what has been required of me. Excuse me."

He knelt down to undo the saddle from beneath, and you got the hint, trying to move your foot out of the way best you could to let him do so.

He stood back up, and gestured to get you to get your horse to lay down so he could be taller. He offered his arms to you.

"Hold onto me. I'll make sure the saddle comes with you so it doesn't tug on your ankle."

Of course, it was just as your arms wrapped around Sebeks neck that Riddle came back, making a bit of a flustered noise at the sight of the two of you so close to each other.

"What is going on here?!!"

Sebek reeled, ducking his head out from your hands, flushed.

"NOTHING."

You looked rather unamused between the two biggest sticks in the mud you knew and gestured at your foot, still firmly stuck in the stirrups of your saddle.

"I'm still just trying to be granted sweet release."

--------------------------------------- RAHHHHH GOOD GOD I FINALLY FINISHED IT

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG OTL

Hopefully it lives up to expectation <3

----------------------------- Tag list:

@fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain

@nyx-of-night @sickle-stick @distant-velleity @nemisisnemi @amatsuchan-eiliniel @random-twst-and-oc-stuff

I'm so tired BYE I love you guys

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rowdydevs · 5 months ago

Text

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕣: 𝔹𝕖𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝔹𝕒𝕣𝕤

𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚛𝙼𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 × 𝙳𝚎𝚙𝚞𝚝𝚢!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: dark!rafe, swearing, cheating, pet names, degredation, name calling, mentions of murder, guns mentioned, drugs mentioned, biting, jacob’s ladder piercing, public p in v, edging, denial, threats, blackmailing, boot riding, oral sex, fingering, rough oral, hair pulling, ownership kink, icky!rafe

📖 this was a mix of two asks & I did put my own twist on it: #1 anon ask: omg for the holiday slutacular could you do dealer!rafe, forbidden love, biting, hair pulling and maybe a cute little piercing on rafe iykwim, and line 8 xxx #2 request by @nocoolusernamesavailable-blog - Mobster Friends to lovers love triangle / Obedience training with edging, denial and ruined orgasms. Maybe end the session with a ruin or just denial. Or maybe count the edges / Try to stay quiet understand

Reader’s POV:

The door clangs shut behind Shoupe, and with it, a part of you feels lighter.

You watch him through the glass partition as he adjusts his duty belt, his expression stoic. The downtown holiday parade’s underway—Shoupe heading out to oversee his deputies, managing crowd control. His movements are crisp, efficient… Everything about him screams order and discipline. He’s a good man, a good deputy, and a good boyfriend. He’s just good…

“You sure you’ll be okay here?” He asks, his blue eyes softening on yours.

“I’ve got this,” you reply, forcing a smile. “Go save Christmas.”

His lips quirk into a smile before he leans in, pressing a light kiss on your lips, quick, professional, almost impersonal. But that was Shoupe—steady, dependable, never reckless. He was the kind of man you built a life with.

He turns and walks out, and you watch him disappear into the chilly North Carolina night. The sound of the heavy door slams shut behind him. Then, like clockwork, you hear it. A slow, lazy chuckle that raises every hair on your body.

“Still settlin’ for vanilla. Huh, pretty?”

Your heart drops at the sound of his voice. Deep, smooth, and laced with mockery. You didn’t have to look to know who it was. Rafe Cameron. You swallow hard, willing yourself to stay calm.

“You’re not gonna say hi, baby?” His voice was louder now, drawing the attention of the other inmates. “We go way back. Don’t be rude, sweetheart.”

You turn slowly, boots echoing against the concrete floor as you walk toward his cell. You keep your expression neutral, but inside, everything’s unraveling.

Rafe stands at the bars, his big hands casually wrapped around the cold steel. He looks good. Too good. Prison’s sharpened him, but it hasn’t broken him. His caramel-colored hair is cut short; jawline more defined than you’d remembered, his five o'clock shadow gives him a dangerous edge. Rafe’s eyes—those goddamn eyes—they’re the same: fierce, calculating, and maddeningly irresistible.

“You’re not supposed to be talking to me,” you scold, folding your arms across your chest.

“And yet here you are.” Rafe’s lips bend into that lazy, confident smirk that once made you weak.

“I’m just doing my job,” you crack. “You wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“Ouch.” He presses a hand to his heart, feigning hurt. “Still got that fire. I fuckin’ love it.” You roll your eyes, turning to leave. “Wait.” His voice softens, taking on that familiar, enticing tone. “Come on, we can catch up. No harm in talkin’. Yeah? Just two old friends.”

“We were never friends,” you clip back, though the words feel hollow.

He chuckles again, low and rich, the kind of laugh that makes your stomach flip, and it does just that. “That’s not what I remember. We were more than friends, princess. You gotta remember that, no?”

Don’t let him get to you.

“You’ve got nothing to say?” He pushes, eyes narrowing. “Maybe Shoupe knows all about your past. Or maybe he doesn’t.”

And in a moment, everything comes to a screeching halt.

“I wonder what he’d think,” Rafe muses, tongue-in-cheek. “Deputy L/n, the straight-laced officer used to run guns… for me-”

“Stop, Rafe.”

“… Used to party a little too hard. Used to beg me for a taste.”

“That’s enough,” you hiss, stepping closer to the bars.

He leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You think you can outrun who you are? You and me, we’re the same. We always have been.”

You shake your head, but the words cling to you like smoke. No. I’m not that person anymore. “I’ve got a good life now,” you stammer; voice shaky and hoarse. “A good man. A real job. I’m not your girl anymore, Rafe.”

His smile falters for a moment, but it’s back, more dangerous than ever. “Sure, you’ve got the uniform, the badge. But deep down? You miss it. The rush. The freedom-”

“You’re wrong-”

“… me. I know you do,” he smiles, as he finishes his words.

You hate how right he sounds. The weight of the badge on your chest feeling heavier with every second you stand by him.

“I should walk away,” you say, more to yourself than anyone else.

“But you won’t,” he smirks as his eyes lock onto yours, challenging you. “You never could say no to me.”

Your mind tells you to move, turn, and leave, but you don’t. Your feet stayed planted, pulse spiking.

“Come closer,” Rafe whispers.

You step in, hating yourself for it. The space between you is nothing now, just the cold steel bars. Rafe reaches out, his fingers brushing your wrist. The contact’s electric, sending a shiver down your spine. “Stop actin’ so tough, baby-”

“You’re delusional,” you whisper, but the conviction in your voice wavers.

Rafe’s thumb strokes the inside of your wrist, and you feel your resolve crumble to pieces. Rafe always knew how to break me down, piece by piece, until nothing was left but the truth.

“You can lie to yourself all you want,” he says softly. “But you can’t lie to me.”

Before you can stop yourself, you lean in. Rafe’s lips meet yours through the bars, a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s raw, consuming, filled with years of anger, longing, and darkness.

Rafe reaches out, cupping your sex in his large hand, before rubbing two long fingers on your clothed clit. “Remember how good I made you feel?” He mumbles, and you do.

“I remember you planting drugs and a gun in my purse, Rafe,” you hiss. “You would have ruined my life.”

“You were keepin’ ‘em safe,” he whispers as he undoes your belt with a single hand, plunging it into your panties the next, making you bite back a gasp. He clicks his tongue, chuckling smugly at the messy lace. “How are you always so wet?”

Your hand draws to him, too, cupping his bulge through his thin cotton uniform, feeling his rock-hard length underneath. “Fuck, Rafe,” you moan, remembering how he filled you just right.

“Try to stay quiet, understand?” He smiles cruelly. “Wouldn’t wanna stop,” he pulls away his fingers, stealing your pleasure with it, denying you only to start again, working harder and faster.

“Come in here. Yeah? I won't bite.”

“No… I can't. I-”

He laughs wickedly, rolling his lust-blown eyes. “Fine… Have it your way.” Resting his big hand on your head Rafe shoves you down to your knees. You grab the iron bars, peeking both ways fast before looking up at him nervously, the angle of the cell concealing you for the moment.

He runs his hands through his messy fringe, pushing bangs out of the way, giving you a better look at his beautiful blue eyes.

You wrap your fingers around his loose cotton pants, pulling them down, then his boxers. Your eyes widen as you take him in your hand, feeling the chill of six metal balls against your palm. You glide your thumb along the underside of his cock, touching the metal bars; one, two, three… You look up at Rafe, and he smirks.

“Don’t get too excited now,” Rafe mocks as his hand moves around, cupping the back of your head. You look at his fat tip, a tear of precum weeping onto the floor below. “Fuck, you look so pretty on your knees, baby.”

He pulls you forward, lips parting as you wrap your mouth around his swollen head, tasting him, tongue toying with the metal with every flick. Sucking him deep into your throat, you hear him moan; the man quickly catches himself, tilting forward, biting down on his muscular forearm to dampen his pleasured sounds.

Rafe thrusts forward, sending his cock deeper into your mouth, making you gag. “Jesus fuck, you got a throat on you, huh?” He lauds as he wraps a hand under your chin, feeling his dick pump in and out as he fucks your face.

You moan around his thickness, feeling pressure between your thighs as Rafe teases you with the toe of his shoe on your clit, urging you to rock against him, making your thighs quake. “You like that don't you?”

“Mpfhh…” You moan with a mouth full of dick.

“Like ridin’ daddy’s boot like a whore? Got this whole department under my thumb… Got their prettiest deputy ruttin’ her shit on my boot, chokin’ on my dick. Fuckkk… M’just show in off now. Ain’t I?” He drawls as tears tumble down your cheeks.

Your hand strokes and rolls his balls—his body tightening in your hand as you deep-throat his cock. “You better swallow it all,” Rafe rasps, with a challenging bite to his voice.

He throws his head back to the ceiling, hips stuttering as he paints your throat with his climax. You stay frozen in place, feeling him throb on your tongue, careful not to get any on your uniform.

“Mmm… Damn, that’s my girl,” Rafe sighs as he rolls his neck, taking and pushing out a deep, satisfied breath. “The fact that Shoupe’s gettin’ this shit’s gonna kill me,” Rafe mumbles darkly as he tugs you to your feet. “Ya know… M’not gonna be in here forever. Let me take care of him for you, angel. Hmm?”

“Rafe…”

He sucks his teeth and smiles. “Then again, what’s the fun in takin’ you away from him if he’s dead? Huh? I’ll think about it, n’get back to you.” He mutters through a breathy laugh.

“Don’t even joke about that shit-”

“Who said I am, princess?” Rafe wraps a hand around his cock, squeezing the base. “Turn around. Let me show you how much I missed you.” You turn around, and Rafe reaches for you, pulling your back into the bars, his big arms reaching around your waist, fighting with your zipper, tugging your uniform off your hips.

He wraps his big fingers around your panties, ripping one side then the next, making your eyes widen in horror at the volume of the tear. “Rafe, please,” you beg for him to stop being so loud, begging at the same time for his cock, a whirlwind of emotions swirling through your mind.

He tosses the panties back to his bed, turning back his attention to you with a toothy smile. “You can't imagine the shit I’m gonna do to those…” He whispers as he presses the tip of his cock against your glossy hole. You reach behind you, grabbing for his hips to coax him forward, but he doesn't budge, running himself through your arousal—teasing you shamelessly.

You can feel your wetness on your thighs, and so can Rafe. He lifts his uniform, taking it between his teeth to get a better look. Your head falls forward in pleasure as he thrusts in suddenly. His hands snake forward, grabbing your hips, pulling you as deep as he possibly can go with the bars in the way, making you let out an airy, soundless cry.

Rafe pulls out nice and slow, letting his piercings drag across your wet walls, making you gasp as you feel the little pops.

He starts to slowly pick up the pace—your pleasure growing with each movement of his toned hips. Your body claps against his, and you should stop, but you just can’t, the plop plop plop of his wet skin against yours, filling the space around you.

Rafe starts pistoning his hips into you, fucking you at a rapid pace, making you cover your mouth with both hands—tears rolling over the tops. “How bad do you wanna come in my cell right now? Got what, an inch or two more cock for that greedy little cunt of yours.” Rafe reaches forward, taking a fistful of your hair, yanking you back to his chest.

Your panting lips find him, Rafe smiling nastily against your mouth before sucking on your tongue. “That’s my girl,” he mumbles as he fucks into you sharp and hard, making your ass ripple with each thrust.

Rafe turns towards your neck, his warm breath fanning against your hot skin. He kisses you messily, gliding his tongue along the column of your neck before biting down.

“Don’t be so rough… There can’t be any marks. Please,” you plead with Rafe, his teeth already driving into your skin; your words just making the man even more determined to do so, nipping down harder, making you grip the steel bars to keep from screaming, a muffled whine coming out nonetheless.

“Baby, you have to be quiet, or they’ll figure out what Kildare’s finest is doin’ on the clock… Fuck, I always knew you were a slut f’me,” Rafe grunts, his hips never faltering, slamming harder into your warm, wet pussy.

“M’gonna cum,” you whimper.

“I know you are,” Rafe smiles, his hand already halfway up your body to cover your mouth before the first utterance even leaves your lips.

You cry out against his big palm, just praying he won’t pull his hand away, but you know Rafe wants to get out of here… He wouldn’t take that risk himself. Vile squelching fills the space around you. You reach down, grabbing the iron bars for support, hands twisting around the metal as your thighs clap against Rafe’s.

Your vision blurs as your body is taken by pleasure; Rafe continues to rail you from behind, pounding you through your orgasm as you cum around his big cock. Rafe groans in pleasure at the feeling—his toned hips snapping back, pushing into you as he cums hard, pressing his lips against you to swallow your moans and mewls. He pulls away, leaving you gasping for air. “You’re gonna help me, princess,” he says, his voice jagged and rushed. “You’re gonna get these charges dropped. And when I’m out?” He smirks. “You’re mine again.”

“Rafe, I can’t,” you sniffle.

“Can’t?” Rafe asks smugly. “But you’ll do it. Because if you don’t…” He trails off, letting the threat hang in the air.

Rafe pulls out nice and slow, making you shudder at the loss of him. You reach down, grabbing your pants fast, tucking your uniform in before anyone can see. You feel the warm sensation of Rafe’s cum rolling wet down your inner thigh, making even more of a mess.

You stumble back, breathing hard; your mind still spinning from your orgasm. You look at Rafe’s body as he pulls up his prison uniform: wet teeth marks at the neckline of his shirt, your arousal pooled around the bottom, his stiff, throbbing dick’s trapped in his pants, sticking out of the top of the elastic band, his swollen head glistening with your shared release. Rafe’s blue eyes glint wildly, staring right through your soul.

Your mind is screaming to run—to get as far away from him as possible. But you know the truth. Rafe Cameron wasn’t someone you run from. He was someone you face or surrendered to.

And right now, looking at the beautiful, wicked man before you, surrender felt inevitable.

#rafe #rafe smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe blurb 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹#kinkmas event .𖥔 ݁ ˖❄️˚. ᵎᵎ #felon!rafe ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ #my library ᝰ.ᐟ

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aquaholicsanonymousworld · 2 months ago

Text

Buried in the Wreckage

Pairing: Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter x FiskDaughter!Reader

Summary: Fisk's daughter is expected to fall in line with her father on the verge of becoming the most powerful man in New York. Desperate for answers—or maybe just closure—she visits Dex, knowing that some things can’t be undone, and some wounds never heal.

Author's Note: S4 spoilazz ahead. Nerds beware.

The weight of the city felt heavier tonight. The neon glow of Hell’s Kitchen bled into the rain-soaked streets, but all she could see was him—Dex—plummeting from the rooftop, arms flailing before his body hit the pavement with a sickening crack. The sound echoed in her ears, looping like a cruel refrain. She had seen a lot of brutal things in her life, but that? That was different.

Her hands trembled as she clutched the edge of the sink in her father’s penthouse. The water was running, but she wasn’t washing anything. She was just there, staring at her reflection, seeing the dark circles under her eyes, the way her lip trembled no matter how hard she pressed it together.

Dex was alive. That was the miracle. The curse was that it didn’t matter.

The moment he woke up in the hospital, he was already as good as gone. The charges against him were airtight. Attempted murder, endangering the public, impersonating Daredevil. Life in prison. No appeals, no deals—just a cell and a locked door.

And she? She was expected to keep moving, to forget, to stand beside her father as he prepared to be elected mayor of New York City.

Like she could just erase Dex from her bloodstream.

A sharp knock at the door jolted her back to reality.

She inhaled, steadying herself before pulling it open.

Her father stood there, tall, imposing, always dressed like he was already in office. His expression didn’t betray much, but she saw the tension in the way he clasped his hands together.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

She wanted to laugh. Ready for what? Pretending like her world hadn’t just shattered? Smiling at crowds while Dex rotted in a prison cell?

She swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah.”

Because that was the thing about being Wilson Fisk’s daughter.

You never let them see you break.

She left her father’s office without another word, walking down the long, marble-floored hallway, past the aides and security who barely acknowledged her. She was expected to fall in line, expected to be the daughter of a soon-to-be mayor.

Expected to forget. But she couldn't.

The moment she stepped outside, the bitter cold hit her like a slap. The city pulsed around her, alive, demanding, but she didn’t feel any of it. Her feet carried her forward, instinct more than intention.

Before she even processed where she was going, she found herself standing at the gates of Ryker’s Island.

The guards barely batted an eye when she checked in for visitation—Fisk’s name still carried weight, after all.

And yet, as she was led through the cold corridors, past rows of cells filled with men who had no future, the weight in her chest only grew heavier. The noise, the stench of concrete and metal—it all felt suffocating.

She had spent her whole life walking through halls of power, through places that demanded strength, control. But this? This was different.

This was Dex.

And she didn’t know how to face him.

The prison walls loomed over her, stark and suffocating under the fluorescent lights. The air was stale, thick with the weight of unspoken regrets and lives reduced to metal bars and numbered uniforms.

She sat stiffly in the visitation room, her hands clasped tightly together on the table. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. Hey, Dex, sorry you fell off a building? Sorry you’re in here forever? Nothing felt right. Nothing felt enough.

And then he was there.

Dex walked in wearing that orange jumpsuit like it was just another uniform. His hair was a little shorter, his face a little leaner, but his eyes—they were the same. Cold, calculating, assessing her in the way only he could. But underneath that steel edge, she saw something else. A flicker of something familiar, something he used to reserve just for her.

He slid into the chair across from her, resting his cuffed hands on the table. "Didn’t think I’d see you here."

Her breath hitched. She had prepared for a lot—anger, indifference, maybe even relief that she’d come—but not this. Not the way his voice made her throat tighten.

She forced out a breath. "Where else would I be?"

Dex huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, I don’t know. Celebrating your father becoming the most powerful man in New York?"

Her jaw clenched. "You think I give a shit about that?"

"You should." His voice was flat, but she knew him too well. He was bitter. And why wouldn’t he be? He was locked in here, and she was still free.

But she wasn’t. Not really. Not when he was in this place. Not when every breath she took felt like it belonged to someone else.

She reached for his hands before she could stop herself, fingers ghosting over the cold metal of the cuffs. "Dex, I—"

"Don’t." His voice was sharper now, cutting through whatever fragile moment had been building. He finally looked at her, really looked at her, and she saw the exhaustion there, the resigned acceptance. "There’s nothing you can say to fix this."

Her lips parted, but no words came. Because he was right. She couldn’t fix this. She couldn’t undo what had happened.

So she did the only thing she could—she squeezed his hands, holding onto him like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

"I just needed to see you," she whispered.

Dex exhaled, something in his posture shifting, softening just enough. His fingers curled slightly under hers, the smallest acknowledgment that he wasn’t as unaffected as he pretended to be.

For a moment, the bars, the prison walls, the time they’d lost—it all faded.

It was just them. Just this.

And then, too soon, the guard stepped forward. "Time’s up."

She swallowed hard, blinking back the emotion threatening to break through. Dex leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable again, slipping behind the armor of someone who had nothing left to lose.

She stood slowly, reluctant, her hands lingering on the cold metal table. "I’ll come back."

Dex didn’t nod. Didn’t say anything at all. But as she turned to leave, she felt it—the weight of his eyes on her, following her even as the door shut behind her.

And for now, that was enough.

#daredevil #daredevil born again #daredevil fanfiction #benjamin poindexter #benjamin poindexter x reader #benjamin poindexter imagine #bullseye #bullseye x reader #bulleseye imagine #wilson bethel #wilson fisk #ddba

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prettyboykatsuki-moved · 1 year ago

Note

I can just imagine fujo neet reader practicing different sex position with rin to make sure she gets the proportions right.

✮ tags ; fem!reader, sexual tension, rin's pov, RIN IS KIND OF MEAN TO HER BUT HE WANTS HER SO BAD FDKJJS, reader is a fujoshi and bl mangaka, pre-relationship, they work together, part of a ficverse i haven't written yet Sorry, ONE JOKE ABOUT RIN WANTING TO OFF HIMSELF, SUPER SUGGESTIVE LOL 18+

✮ wc ; 3.5k (WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!)

✮ a/n ; i had to do this for my sanity. i promise i will write them a proper fic with them i promise.

You never text Rin.

Not really. Not first at least. It's a new... friendship. Kind of. Sort of. Most of your communication thus far has been through meetings and random in-person chance encounters. Outside of that, Rin will call you since it's faster. If you do "text", it's mostly through twitter DM's.

There's a discord server your fans run, and you pop in there often enough. He's had the invitation extended but declined unilaterally, since he'd rather not see himself fucking Isagi anymore than he already has in his short, miserable career.

It surprised him this morning, seeing your message flash across the top of his screen. Asking, specifically, for him to come over and help you with something related to the new manga you were writing. He had it in his right mind to decline, but after learning it wasn't a doujin for him, he semi-reluctantly agreed.

Rin doesn't know when exactly your relationship to him grew this...comfortable. Inviting him over to your house, begging him for favors, not wincing every time he talks to you. Rin isn't an extrovert but compared to you he's a social butterfly. And your aversion to people in general, Rin thought, would prevent you from doing anything more than squeak at him forever just like you did when he met you.

(Though nothing in his life has been normal since your arrival in it. He's not sure why you would remain unchanged when he certainly hasn't.)

He doesn't know what to feel when you ask him for a favor, and he doesn't know what force of nature compels him to go. If it's morbid curiosity or annoyance or something else even worse.

It was compelling enough to take the train all the way out to Machida - an hour long trip from his own place. His manager hounded him to take you something, so he has a bag of ginseng energy drinks and snacks with him as a gift. He took the bus with his mask on, and then walked all the way to your building.

Your apartment is tucked somewhere classically suburban - attached at the far end of a residential street and behind concrete support beams for a highway just overhead. Cherry blossom trees and other shades of white flowers grow around it in thick patches, making the entrance hard to find. Rin would've had trouble if you didn’t give him details on exactly where to go.

It's an older building, stone walls worn and grass-stained from age. At the gate are groups of old people talking amongst each other as they sort through recycling and trash. All visor hats and sunspots, they fawn over Rin for a long while before he goes in and interrogates him with questions. None of them know him, which is relieving. It quickly graduates to them asking who he's there to visit, if he has a girlfriend or not.

All of them ooh and aah when he mentions your name, say something about being relieved she's found a man so handsome and that Rin should marry you because even though you're a little strange you're a good girl. Rin does not have the time nor energy to correct them - only nods and bows his head and leaves.

On the elevator ride up to your floor, he can't help but think repeatedly that this isn't the kind of place he'd expect you to live. He thought it'd be out in the middle of nowhere, maybe in a damp and broken building.

But this is a nice place with nice people, vibrant and colorful. Totally opposite from what he considers your personality.

Suitable or not, Rin manages to make it to your floor without a hitch.

He finds you, then, as he'd expect. Down a long hall, behind an unassuming white door. When you open it, you're a mess. Your hair completely unkempt, face greasy, a wild look in your eyes and complete surprise in your expression as if you didn't invite him over. You do, however, manage to invite him in without stuttering or stumbling over your words foolishly like you did the first time you spoke to him.

Another surprise is how... clean your living room is. It's lived in but he was expecting more mess in there. Your bedroom is in a similar state, undoubtedly messy but not terrible. Your NEET tendencies finally end up showing when you drag Rin into your office where you draw your manga.

It's not dirty but it's cluttered. There's a pull out sofa on one wall, with a blanket and pillow littered about and pages upon pages of paper sheets with scrapped panels about the floor. One wall has a bunch of post-its with several notes in both English and Japanese, and another has tacked up pieces of art. Both yours and other peoples. He chooses to ignore the ones of him and Isagi, The walls themselves are cream colored and uninteresting and the wood floors are slippery. At the far end of the room is a spread of desks, a PC set-up and a professional looking tablet among various art supplies in stacked boxes.

It's this room you bring Rin into without explaining yourself at all, mumbling and muttering as you give him a place to sit and go back to your work for fifteen silent minutes.

When you're finally finished doing whatever the fuck you were doing, you turn yourself back towards Rin. Bluelight glasses fall down the bridge of your nose as you swivel around in your chair - your sweatpants half pulled up your leg with the other pulled down. You're wearing fuzzy socks with Naruto characters on them.

You stare at him, pulling your glasses off and rubbing your eyes - dark circles under them.

"Uhm," Your voice is clipped and thick with exhaustion. "You came."

Rin deadpans. "You asked me to come."

"I thought you'd say no."

He did too. He doesn't respond back. You chew your lips, already anxious and Rin resists the urge to say something about it.

"Okay. Uhm. Please don't get mad," You start with and then explain, looking away. Your hands pull your sleeves over your palms. "So. Like. For my new series, I'm finally getting to the sex scene but I've never drawn characters with an intense height difference like this. And I need... new reference photos.... and uhm," You rub your feet together on your chair where you sit "Well our height differences and size is the exact one my characters have. So."

Rin stares at you. "So?"

"SoIwaswonderingifyou'dtakereferenceimagesforsexpositionswithme,"

Rin feels his jaw lock. "Slower."

You frown and look away, tucking your chin with embarrassment. "I was uhm, like, wondering if you'd take... take the uhm, sex position reference photos with me, please."

"What?"

You clasp your hands together, immediately prostrating yourself by throwing yourself down the ground. He flinches back, wondering if you're gonna hold onto his leg next.

"Please, please help me. You're the exact height of my seme and you uhm have similar builds and he's doing the most of the legwork. The poses are a little bit hard but I want them to look good or Minami-san will eat me and I'm scared of her, please help me."

"Who is Minami-san?"

You sniffle, on the verge of tears just thinking about it. "My editor. She used to be my fan. She's scary. Please, Rin-kun, please."

"What the hell did you do before?"

You frown at him, big wet puppy-dog eyes.

"It was hard. Sometimes I'd pose with my big stuffed animals and make up the proportions. Oh and usually watched porn and stuff. Sometimes I'd get lucky with stockphotos. But I don’t get the angle exactly right unless I have good references."

Rin wonders if anything you have ever said has processed in your mind before saying it. He doubts it for some reason.

"So," Rin pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes the image of you humping your stuffed animals out of his head. "You're asking me to.. pose with you?"

You nod and chew your lip. "Please, I promise I'd never ask you for this if I wasn't s-scared of Minami-san! Please?"

"I should make you pay me for this," He sneers. You flinch back and close your eyes.

"I'm sorry." You whine wetly, but then open your eyes again anyway. "Please help me."

Rin doesn't know why he helps you. Maybe you're just too pathetic for him to ignore. Maybe he's a masochist. Maybe inhaling the same air as Bachira last week turned him stupid.

He pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Fine."

If Rin didn't believe you before when you told him you make your own references, he'd definitely believe you after you take him to your bedroom.

Your bed is in the center of your room, instead of being pushed against a wall. Large stuffed animals laid in one corner. On both sides of the room, are makeshift digital camera stands and remote-controlled lighting among another remote for said cameras. There's about 4-6 angles from what you explained to Rin, and a few adjustable lights. It's an elaborate set-up and takes the kind of dedication Rin can only imagine a hardcore fujoshi freak like yourself thinking up.

All of this to mostly draw porn of him and his rival. He tries not to think about it too hard because he thinks it's going to give him an aneurysm. Rin sits at the edge of your bed as you adjust each of the cameras individually.

"What do you do if it's not on a bed?"

You flinch like you aren't expecting him to talk. "Uhm. I either simulate as best I can o-or move my things and bed around. It's why I moved my desk to my office."

Rin stares at you. "You take it seriously."

You nod meekly. "Producing high-quality doujin is what made me money, so I have to work hard. Being poor is tough."

If Rin didn't find you so unbearable he might find that awe-inspiring in his own fucked up way.

"Okay. Everything is set-up. Now for the poses," You say, suddenly sparking back to life. Rin sits and watches. "They're having sex on a public beach so the bed and the way the seme sort of sinks into the sand will be good... I think the bridge one is the one we'll do first."

"The bridge?"

You nod, talking in short sentences. But Rin can tell this is where you're comfortable, doing things for this... hobby. Your usual constant embarrassment and shame seem to disappear when it comes to it. It's fascinating like a car crash. "Uhm. You have to stand on your knees and then, I'll lay on my back and arch my back up to meet your... y'know. It'll emphasize the height difference."

Rin stares at you agape. You take the remote control for your cameras in your hands and look at him expectantly.

Rin doesn't know whats wrong with him. Why the hell did he agree to this?

"Do you want me to take my jacket off?"

You nod, surprised. He shrugs the thing off of his shoulders and tosses it onto the floor.

Rin, per your instruction, gets into the position in the middle of the bed. He stands on his knees waiting for you. You join him a minute after, squinting at your phone screen beforehand. He isn't sure what he's expecting as a result of your ask, but he sure is shocked when he finds you placing your feet flat on the bed next to his knees and pushing yourself up for your crotch to meet his.

He knows that’s what you said but your shamelessness proves to be… shocking.

He tries not to let it show. His jaw ticks. His face feels warm but his expression remains neutral all the same. You shift and adjust and don't seem concerned at all - like it doesn't occur to you that this is in any way socially unacceptable. Or it's unfathomable Rin would take advantage of this. That this is weird, or could be interpreted in less than innocent ways. Rin knows you're so out of touch that it probably isn't. That this is, to you, just considered a favor which is partially why he even agrees.

But you're mid-brushing up against his bulge. The angle of your back forms a triangle, your arms laid flat at your sides as you squirm and push. And your expression shifts, deep in thought.

"Uhm, like, would you mind p-putting your hands on my hips? Kind of squeezing tight like it's," You flush this time, but Rin harbors doubt it's about him. "Like it feels good I guess? Like hard, and stuff so you can see the indent."

He's so astonished, he does it on autopilot. Neutral and even. He lets his hands grab your hips and holds tight just as you ask. Your long, loose sweatshirt falls down revealing the soft skin of your tummy. He can see the tops of your underwear, the thin cotton kind that come in 6-packs with a single bow in the middle in a grey color.

You don't seem to care about it. Rin shouldn't either, but his body does seem to care. His brain does. Something is happening in his gut. Anger maybe. Some cheap, frustrated desire to make fun of you.

Instead the words he's been wanting to ask since you proposed this tumble out of his mouth. He stares at you.

"Is this the first time someone's done this with you?"

You jump with a start, but remain in position. You take the pictures first, six clicks in a row before answering.

"H-huh? Why-why are you asking that?"

He doesn't know. Really. And he knows how it sounds. Rin doesn't say anything and you fold under the immense pressure of his gaze.

"S-stop staring," You say, and take a few more pictures, lowering your back just a little but still staying up right. "And no. No one tall enough or with the right physique."

There is another gnawing question, another burning curiosity. He makes his voice as even and unaffected and apathetic as he can. As mean as possible.

"Have you ever even had sex?"

Your eyes blow wide, but you seem to fall for the persona of apathy, curious boredom and cruelty. Worse, you seem a little used to it. You squirm this time and Rin holds you firmly in place. Your voice is small.

"Uhm, like, once I guess. I-it was with a guy, I didn't really date him but he seemed interested in me and I didn't think I'd ever have the opportunity again s-so I did it and I didn't uhm, it wasn't very good or anything." You reply, and he can feel your toes curl in your socks next to him and his brain feels like it'll melt from out of his ears. "Sorry, I don't-don't think you care about that, just uhm, felt like I should explain."

"Yeah," Rin feels dizzy. "Do you need another pose?"

You blink and then nod. "Yeah! Another one kind of like this, but with the legs like uhm, on your chest and my feet closer to your head. With you leaned back a little. Does that make sense? The butterfly position, I think."

Rin swallows something at the back of throat.

He nods, pulling you into position so easily he can heard you gasp. Your legs straighten against his clothed chest, and your sweatshirt falls far enough to let him see your bra. A fabric sports kind, a little worn - just the logo visible. He doesn't say anything about it, your feet resting near his neck. You make a little soft noise.

"This feels a little difficult to be in. Poor uke. Sorry if this one is kind of weird, but can you put your hands, I dunno, on my ass, I guess? I know that's probably too much but I think it'll be a good detail, so please? I'll pay you"

Rin stares at you, teeth gritting so hard he feels the back of his skull throb. "Fine."

Rin, per your request, puts his hands on your ass. It's easy enough, and he doesn't hold too tight. But it's too intimate, too stupidly fucking intimate, and he can feel you. You're hardly paying attention, caught up in your own head with whatever else. Rin is paying too much attention. Like how your sweatpants aren't thick enough to cover the outline of your frumpy cotton panties and how your soft all over. He's going to kill someone. Maybe himself.

Six more clicks and a little noise of satisfaction.

"Okay!!! I think these will turn out so great, and I can use them later too. Just one more. I have a lot of refs for this position, but uhm - I want to see if I can get the proportions correct, so if you'd please lay down," You tell him with such genuine excitement he can't find it in himself to say anything horribly cruel. "I'll be doing most of the work this time. I just-just need to see how uke will compare..."

You mutter something to yourself as Rin lets you down and lays himself down on your bed. You sit next to him for a long while, squinting at your phone. Rin stares at you as you. Wonders if he's gone completely insane, and tries to ignore the doom of the impending hard-on cozying itself in his pants.

Unceremoniously, you find yourself perching over Rin's lap. Not bothering to give him any pretense, it's the one thing about today that's really getting him.

"Oh, I need my hands for this," You give him the remote and stare down at him wide-eyed, over his lap. This has to be hell. "Could you take the photos this time?"

He closes his eyes and counts to ten and wonders if a concussion has made him insane. "Hm."

You brighten and Rin feels his chest go tight. "Thanks!"

Rin just nods, his mouth drying as you start to move and pose. A picture with your hands next to his head, and anothe r where you're sat up - your hands at your sides. Rin obediently takes pictures when you ask, his entire body tensing every single time you move.

"Okay, last one," You say. This time, you put your hands on his chest. Just the one. You must have something specific in your head that you're wanting to recreate. You bend down close, looking down at him as you do - your other hand clenched.

Rin looks up at you. He should not be thinking about you in any way. He's looking at the way your lips curve and plump and at your bare skin and your dark circles and your stupid licensed anime hoodie. He just gapes at you in confusion and mystique. He's around so many weirdos. It's not like there's anything special about you. You’re just another freak who makes porn of him. Plenty of people do that.

A loser and an idiot with no sense of self-preservation. There's nothing special about this, but Rin hasn’t been able to convince himself of that.

You stare down at him.

"Take a picture?"

Rin looks at you. Studies your expression. You seem like you're thinking. It's the only oppurtunity he has to pry.

"Did you want to ask something?" He says first. “You’re not hard to read.”

You startle, then nod. Your hand is on his chest. It's warm, and smaller than his.

"Oh, I-I guess I was wondering about what you asked me earlier. And uhm, like, I don't know. If you ever did anything. Your relationships aren't in the media and fans speculate but," You fall flat on your words. "I guess I was just curious."

Rin hates this question. It's why he never answers it. Why he hates being called a hearthrob, always too shallow and too personal for his taste.

"Nothing long term or serious. It was most for physical relief." Rin says, almost on autopilot. “Not that’d you know what that’s like.”

Your eyes widen. Rin feels his hands twitch, watching your expression finally grown conscious of him. Lust spreads through you like honey and Rin can see it in how you look. You squirm in his lap. He's not usually so aggressive, not usually one to care about sex in any important way. Not one to brag about something so unbelievably inane and trivial.

But it's bothering him, just how much he's fighting the urge to pin you down and fuck you. You of all people. It's not like him. Rough sex is whatever, but it's bothering him how little any of it seems to register in your head anymore like it once did. You could barely breathe the first time you met.

He doesn't know why he cares that you don’t anymore. He doesn’t give a shit about anything related to you

But the thought nothing seems to bother you anymore bothers him.

"Oh... I see. That's uhm, interesting. I b-bet you have a lot more experience than me. Maybe it'd be a good thing to keep you around for that kind of refernce too," You joke.

Rin lets his hand slip up to your hips without asking, not bothering to hide it anymore. His head feels with nothing but stupid useless thoughts. Thoughts of fucking you in your old, worn clothes and stained shirts and comfortable cotton underwear. Thoughts of your hands clutching at his shoulder all weepy with desire and need and stupidity - your big wide eyes bleary and sensitive. It's cruel how relentlessly he thinks about taking advantage of all your differences. Of how unathletic and awkward and unused to everything you are.

It's horrible just how much he's staving off his own arousal about it. Maybe you're strange habits are infecting him, making him strange too strange. All Rin can think about uselessly is how easily he could put you in your place. Fix you in some strange way. You’d be his to fix and you’d cry and weep and want to run away. Rin wouldn’t let you, keep you pinned and caged like an animal.

His throat feels tight. What is fucking wrong with him today?

Is he that pent up? He stares at you, and gets some passing feeling that there is more to it than that. He closes his eyes.

"Whatever," He says, letting go. You don't seem to notice it again, how thick his voice is getting "Are you almost done?"

You nod and smile. "Yes. Thank you."

Rin feels his heart tug and seethes. “You're welcome."

#return to sender #writing tag #fujoverse #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #bllk x reader #bluelock x reader #THIS IS KIND OF COOKING ME TO DEATRH IM?

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corkinavoid · 3 months ago

Note

back to the old house the smiths

right person wrong time

winter evenings aesthetic

i really love your work thank you so much💖

DPxDC At the End & In the Beginning

All it takes is one little misstep.

He slips on the layers and layers of ice and snow covering the once concrete floor, tries to catch himself on the wall out of sheer reflex, and something silvery, metallic, and clanky goes clattering down. Dick doesn't even have time to feel his heart sinking as the object hits the icy floors, bounces, hits a table leg with a loud bang - metal to ice, it echoes through the abandoned, frozen and forgotten lab - and-

There's a beep, a hiss of pressurized air being released, and then, whatever it is that Dick dropped lights up and shoots a white, blinding beam out of itself.

Dick covers his eyes from the flash, since even the lenses of his mask are not able to dim it in the slightest.

Yet, he puts his hand down almost immediately when he hears the most unexpected, absolutely impossible sound.

A cough.

There's a man kneeling in front of him. A rather fit man, actually, despite the fact that Dick only sees his back and it's mostly covered with a black cape; he's got broad shoulders and, wow, those biceps are thicker than Dick's thigh. Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration, but they are big.

He is probably focusing on the wrong thing there because the man's hair is white, just as the snow around them, and floating like a flame. Which is arguably a more important detail than, well, biceps.

"Fucking kid," the man growls under his breath.

Now, Dick is a vigilante. It's pretty much in his job description to get stuck in an all-around confusing clusterfuck situation at least once a month. And yet, watching a buff man with flaming hair and some kind of beef with some unknown kid come out of... a thermos, okay, not the weirdest thing to store a man in, still takes its honorable place among the top ten confusing situations in his life. Not to mention that-

He must have made some sort of a sound, because the man turns around suddenly, his glowing red eyes locking with Dick's.

There's a long moment where neither of them says a word, both too stunned to react. Then, the man blinks.

"Huh," he says very eloquently, "At least he's had a few years, I guess."

Dick blinks, too, snapping himself out of a stupor. "What?" He asks, not sure where to start, and the man snorts.

"I mean, when I was imprisoned - according to this timeline, at least - you were still Robin. If you're Nightwing now, that means it's been a few years, at the least. Is your brother still dead?" He asks conversationally, rising from his kneeling position. Only he doesn't stand, he floats a few inches above the floor, and Dick might have suspected him to be Martian if not for the very wrong green hue of his skin and obviously more human-like, albeit a bit feral, features.

"What?" Dick asks again because he still understands absolutely nothing. The man gives him a weary, exasperated sigh.

"You know what, nevermind. Not like I care," he brushes his previous words off, "Where are we, anyway?"

Oh, that Dick can answer. He's almost glad for understanding at least something from all the stuff that comes out of the man's mouth.

"Amity Park," he says, "I don't know any street names here, but I've been trying to get to the starting point of this eternal winter apocalypse, so-"

"Stop right there," the man raises a hand in the air, frowning, and his face looks a tad bit lost, but mostly just sharp, eyes dangerously narrowed, "Winter apocalypse?"

Dick debates if he should be answering that at all, given the circumstances and the unknown origins of the entity. But, on the other hand, there's literally no way anything could get worse than it is.

"Yeah. We've got another ice age on our hands, and it looks like it started here. Like, right here," he gestures around himself, to the missing roof that looks like it was blown away, to the abandoned and frozen over lab equipment, and the layers and layers of snow and ice.

The man looks around as well, and Dick might be imagining it, but there's a flicker or recognition in his eyes as he takes in everything around him. Dick, however, decides it's his turn to ask questions now, "Who are you?"

"Name's Dan," the man introduces absently, not looking at Dick, and then his lips twist into a bitter smile, "I am the cause of the apocalypse." There's a pause where Dick feels his stomach abruptly sinking, and then the man adds, "Ah, not this apocalypse. A different one."

"Err, I feel like one apocalypse is enough. No, actually, one apocalypse is too many apocalypses. Please don't make more," Dick can't help but deadpan, and Dan barks a laugh.

"I've already made one. Not here, in a different timeline," he glances at Dick, "You've managed to stay alive till the very end in that one, too, actually. I guess your family is just very well adjusted for world ending events."

Different timelines are not an unfamiliar concept, and weirder shit has happened in his life, so Dick decides to believe it. However, that comes with a consequence of a dawning understanding: he is standing here, chit-chatting with someone who's caused an apocalypse. And he, albeit unintentionally, freed him.

"Relax, blue pants, world domination is not exactly interesting when there's nothing to dominate," Dan huffs a laugh, evidently noticing Dick tensing up, "Besides, it looks like no matter what my alternative self did, the result was all the same. We just had different approaches."

"What?" This is the third time Dick is asking this. He feels very stupid, yes, but he can't bring himself to ask more detailed questions. There's just too many confusing points.

Dan raises his head up, looking to the dark skies above them.

"If you say the eternal winter started here, then I believe I know what caused it," he says in a detached, emotionless voice.

Dick can't help but feel a spark of hope in his chest, "Really?!"

"Yes," Dan doesn't look at him, his flaming hair dimming slightly, "A destruction of a particularly powerful Ice Core would definitely achieve this effect." He pauses, and Dick knows he should ask for more context because he still understands nothing, but something in the man's posture, in his tight expression and firm line of his lips stops the words from coming.

So, instead, he asks, "How do you fix it?"

Dan's eyes finally snap back at him, and his eyes are red like blood and so, so tired.

"You can't fix death, Richard Grayson. It's too late."

~•~•~•~

I sure took my time with this one, I'm sorry.

I didn't get to explaining much in text - and I'm much too lazy to turn this into an actual fic even if it has the potential to be one - so, long story short, the Bad Fenton Parents Ending happened, only no one came to rescue. Danny spent too much time down in the lab, strapped to the table and cut open, but no one came. In the end, either Fentons have done something to his core, or he couldn't handle it anymore and self-destructed/destabilized from all the suffering. His core exploded, causing the winter apocalypse that quickly spread. Months/years later, what remained of the heroes have located the original source of where it all started from, and Nightwing went to investigate, looking for any kinds of clues to reverse the ice age.

Honestly, I kind of played with both the trope and the aesthetic here - I mean, it's definitely 'right person wrong time' when you think about it, Nightwing did find Daniel Fenton in the lab, but it was much too late, and it's definitely a 'winter evening' but probably not the one you expected.

At least I got the song alright? Actually, no, I twisted the whole meaning of it as well. Anyway, I like what it turned into, even if it's surprisingly depressing.

I'm adding a little aesthetic that I used for this piece:

Hope you like it!

#danny phantom #dpxdc #dc x dp #dick grayson #nightwing #dan phantom #dark humour #i mean the ship #at least i intended it as one #cork game #apocalypse #right person wrong time #angst #i mean kinda #i guess

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hxney-lemcn · 7 months ago

Text

Best Friend — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: being friends with Daisuke, you and him have some fun and not so fun moments, but you find yourself confessing your feelings to him accidently.

tw: mentions of Pony Express (gross), slight angst (but barely)

a/n: guys Daisuke has me in his grips rn, things kept getting written and here we are. I love him your honor.

wc: 2.3k

Master List

Part One | Part Two

It was a warm day in spring. Sun shining down, fluffy white clouds floating by, a gentle breeze tussling your hair, and your company had made it all the better. Daisuke sat across from you at a picnic table at the park. Birds chirped overhead, sounds of kids running around and playing in the distance, while both you and Daisuke were having idle chit chat.

“How’s college going?” Daisuke asked, glancing up at you from his phone.

“Don’t get me started,” You grumbled, brain frying at the mere thought of school and work.

Daisuke chuckled lightly, putting his phone down and resting his head in his hand. Mirroring his movements, you asked, “How’s it going on your end?”

“Don’t get me started,” He repeated your earlier words, causing you both to break out into a small fit of laughter.

“That bad, huh?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” He grumbled, a pout resting on his lips. “My parents won’t stop buggin’ me about finding a job or internship. I dunno what I wanna do yet though.”

“That sucks,” You sympathized. “I still don’t know what I wanna do exactly, but my parents wouldn’t take no for an answer when it came to going to college. Lets hope I choose the right major.”

The lull in your conversation gave you time to admire your long time friend. His hair was growing out from the last time he dyed it, laying nicely on his shoulders and cut jaggedly. His brown eyes had drifted from you, staring up into the canopy of the trees that surrounded you both, the sun shining across his nose. The beauty mark that rested below his right eye and on his left cheek. He was too pretty for his own good. Not to mention his good sense of fashion and funny personality, he was like your dream boyfriend wrapped in a single package. Well actually…

Yeah, you fell for your friend…a while ago too. Could you blame yourself? He was sweet, caring, funny, pretty, maybe a little dense and average when it came to school work, but you wouldn’t have him any other way. Daisuke was a good guy, a bit lost at the moment, but you were gonna stick by his side until he found his passion, and hopefully after that too.

“They found an internship actually,” Daisuke broke the silence, brown eyes landing back on yours.

“Oh?” You questioned back, blinking out of your stupor. “Where?”

“Pony Express,” He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, but you could tell it was bothering him.

“You mean the shitty delivery company?” You asked confused. “The one that ships to other planets?”

“Yeah,” Daisuke replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not concrete or anything, but they’re kinda serious about this one.”

Your stomach dropped. There was no way he was actually…

“I don’t think I can say no.”

It was like your world was crumbling. Daisuke was not only your crush, but the only friend you talked to outside of high school…he was kind of your only friend. Not only that, but the safety of those trips have been heavily criticized, especially Pony Express. They were known for cutting costs and slipping things under the rug. Many workers came out with accusations that were swiftly silenced, rumors of toxic work culture littered everywhere you could look. What were his parents thinking?!

“R-really?” You asked, trying to mask the fear that coated your words and expression. “Isn’t…there are so many other trades, why would they start you with something so demanding?”

“To teach me responsibility,” He shrugged, avoiding your gaze. You felt anger start bubbling up within you. Sure, Daisuke hasn’t had a real job yet, but that wasn’t an excuse to throw him to the wolves to teach him a lesson! Sure, they meant well, but what about an electrician's apprentice or welder, hell even a plumber! Just…something that wasn’t him hurtling through space for God knows how long with little to no communication.

“I-it’s not as bad as it sounds,” He tried to console you, but you, you were absolutely livid, trying to calm yourself down by taking deep breaths.

“What if I find you something different?” You asked, your desperation clearly showing. Daisuke felt his stomach twist, he always hated seeing you sad, and now he was the reason.

“I don’t know,” He sighed. “Maybe if it’s something serious looking.

“Okay,” You nodded, suddenly getting serious. “How about we try finding alternatives together? Try to find the best of both worlds.”

“Sure,” Daisuke replied back, looking a bit more hopeful than before.

…

“Wanna sip?” You asked, tilting your drink towards Daisuke. He had seemed intrigued by what you got, but ordered something different. Sharing was a common occurrence between you both anyways, so neither of you batted an eye.

“Thank you,” He grinned brightly, taking a quick sip before leaning back in his chair. “Oh, that is good! I’ll have to get it next time.” You nodded, taking a quick sip before placing the cup on the table. Your eyes noticed the pink hue that seemed to seep into Daisuke’s cheeks, but decided to ignore it, instead taking a glance around you both. You were visiting the local mall, spending some more time together. Many types of people walked past you as you both sat in the food court having a quick snack before continuing your shopping.

“Y’know,” He spoke up, snapping your attention back onto him. “I think someone’s checking you out right now.” The way he spoke was conspiratorial, leaning across the table and whispering into your ear.

You blinked in confusion, glancing around once more before whispering back, “Who?”

“That guy,” Daisuke pointed discreetly to a guy who was not even hiding the fact that he was indeed looking at you. It made your skin shiver, not liking the attention.

“Ew,” Was your immediate response, causing the both of you to break out laughing, huddling into each other like little kids who were trying to hide.

“I thought you’ve been wanting a boyfriend for forever,” Daisuke chuckled out, whipping an invisible tear from his eye.

“Yeah,” You grumbled back, trying to ignore the way your cheeks flamed at the admission. “But not a random person.”

“Then how are you gonna find someone?” He asked innocently, tilting his head in genuine confusion.

“I…” Was it just you or was the room getting hotter, ‘cus you felt like you were starting to sweat bullets. (Un)fourtunately, the guy from moments before walked over, somehow the sight of you and your friend laughing uncontrollably after looking at him boosted his confidence…somehow. People were still a mystery to you.

“Hey,” The guy greeted, a slimy smirk on his lips. He wasn’t the worst looking person, he actually looked conventionally attractive, but that seemed to make this all worse for you. He was clearly confident in his looks and his friends were watching while snickering to each other. Gosh, this felt like high school all over again, he was probably gonna say something nice and then immediately insult you. You thought you were past this stage in life already…apparently not.

“Uh, hi,” You greeted back awkwardly, constantly glancing at Daisuke like your life depended on it.

“I noticed you from across the room and thought you looked attractive,” The random guy said, eyes once again looking you up and down. Oh God, this was worse than high school…was he being serious right now? You tried to hide your grimace, not wanting to upset him, but also not wanting to lead him on.

“Uh…thanks?” It came out as more of a question, and you elbowed Daisuke as he let out a muffled laugh, absolutely eating up this awkward encounter.

“Yeah,” The guy nodded, not even sparing a glance to your friend. “So I was wondering if I could get your number.” Your heart dropped, panic started to thrum through your veins. What do you say? Well, no of course. But how do you say it without sounding like an asshole?

“It’s (xxx) xxx-xxxx,” Daisuke smiled ‘innocently’. You gave him a blank stare, trying your hardest to not grin like the cheshire cat. The guy put the number that not only wasn’t yours, but Daisuke’s, into his phone before winking at you.

“Cool,” The guy smiled. “I’ll text you later.”

“Y-yeah,” You coughed into your palm, trying to smother the laughter that was threatening to bubble up. As soon as the guy left your vicinity, you both broke into a fit of chuckles, clutching onto the other all the while.

“I can’t believe you did that,” You cackled. “God I love you so much.”

It was an innocent admission. Something you had been holding close to your heart for who knows how long. It had been bubbling and brewing with every smile he sent your way, every silly drawing and caring gesture, every time he comforted you or made you laugh. It was bound to overflow, to spill past your lips in a moment of vulnerability…but the second it left you, your expression dropped. Once again panicking as Daisuke looked at you in surprise. It was hard to ignore the pink on his cheeks this time.

Trying to regain his composure, with a small smile he replied, “I love you too.” The atmosphere was tense, and you knew he meant it platonically…at least that’s what you thought. He was giving you an out, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to take it. But as the chatter of other people around you filled your senses once more, bags rustling and the smell of a mix of foods, you decided it wasn’t the best setting to go over such emotions.

Fingers twitching, you grab one of Daisuke’s hands, gathering your bags in the other. He sent you a confused (and a bit frightful) look, but grabbed his own items, letting you pull him away when he was ready. Every nerve in your body felt alight, trying to ignore how his fingers curled around your own, how your heart was going a mile a minute, how you felt like you couldn’t hold it in anymore. For all you knew, he was going to intern at Pony Express, and you had been holding these feelings in for far too long, and he just needed to know you were serious about your accidental confession.

When you both sat in your car, you turned the music down, turning to face the confused man, “I meant it.”

Blinking, he simply replied, “I meant it too.”

“No,” You groaned, face aflame and heart pounding. “I love you, Daisuke. Like, I want to hold hands with you and do gross coupley things.”

His blush had become ten times more prominent, the red coating his tanned cheeks brightly, eyes wide in astonishment. Daisuke never knew you liked him like that. Sure, he had hoped, having grown feelings for you as well. Unlike his other friends that he would go out and party with, you were more grounding, enjoying the quiet moments and letting him vent when needed. You had been his friend for so long, he couldn’t imagine a life without you by his side. Whenever his parents or you asked him what he wanted for his future, all he could really come up with was that he wanted you there.

And now you were here, confessing to him. Was he dreaming? Had he died and gone to heaven? Could this really be happening? Well, whatever this was, he wasn’t going to let this opportunity go.

“I…I wanna do that too, with you,” He replied back, gaze shifting from yours, but the giddy smile on his face gave away that he meant what he was saying.

“R-really?” You asked hopefully.

“Of course!” Daisuke responded passionately, his embarrassment slowly fading. “You always listen to me ramble about stupid things, and you keep my stupid drawings and you're also really pretty, or, uh, handsome, no I mean beautiful…shit.”

You chuckled, reaching out and grabbing his hand somewhat bashfully, “I think you’re pretty, handsome, and beautiful too.”

And as the both of you sat there, staring at each other with loving gazes, you felt like no matter what, things would be fine. You both can get through any problem as long as you have the other.

Bonus:

“Oh my God he texted me!” Daisuke exclaimed, calling out your name like you weren’t lying right next to him.

Turning off your phone, you snuggled into his side, resting your head on his shoulder, both staring at his phone, “What did he say?”

“Hey, it’s the guy from the mall,” Daisuke read aloud. “Do you wanna come watch a movie at my place?”

“Ew,” You scrunch your nose at the thought. “Who thinks it's a good idea for the first date to be at a private location?”

“He probably thought he was gonna get some,” Daisuke rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Yeah, I think that’s even worse,” You grumbled.

He only chuckled, asking, “What should I say back?”

“I dunno,” You shrugged. “Something stupid.”

“Sorry, I have to fold my dishes,” Daisuke spoke while typing, the silly grin never leaving his lips.

“That’s such an old meme,” You laughed. Your boyfriend merely shrugged, clicking send anyways. The two of you watched as it was marked read, then the message bubbles that popped up and disappears periodically. The two of you were giggling like it was the funniest thing in the world.

“When are you free then?” You read out this time. “Wow, am I really that good looking?”

“Duh,” Daisuke rolled his eyes while squeezing your waist. “I just got lucky that you chose me.”

“I didn’t choose you,” You replied. “You kinda snuck your way into my heart and one day I was like, damn…I like him.”

Looking down at you, Daisuke stared like you had hung the stars and moon, causing your heart to accelerate. Leaning down, he placed a short kiss to your lips, then swiftly kissed you again and again until his heart's content.

As you both got lost in each other's love, you had completely forgotten about the random guy, whose messages were left forgotten.

#mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #mouthwashing daisuke #mouthwashing x reader #daisuke mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing daisuke x reader #x reader

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iwaasfairy · 2 years ago

Text

┌─ “ ! „ CADAVER

tw. wound fucking, blood, gore, don’t read this if you’re squeamish!!, somnophilia, oral, noncon, megumi is delusional in this, yandere, belly bulge but gross! , cannibalistic thoughts wordcount. 6.4k

a/n. this one,,, was me pushing myself to just go buck wild, and channel my inner junji, and i think i got somewhere with it... a select few of you will understand me when i say that ,, this is like my love letter to megumi fr ♡ like i said though, this one might be the one that has people a little yucked out but! it's basically my halloween fic, for the spooky month

fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

When the rattling of the stretcher finally quiets in the halls and the rising rate of adrenaline starts to flatten out, Megumi’s lost on what to do. Any of the other sorcerers can’t decide what the next step is either, it seems. Yuji with his back pressed against the glass and staring off into the empty part of the hall they just came from, and principal Yaga a stern quietness and arms crossed. Ieiri-san will do her best work today of any days if there’s anything to be done about it, but Megumi can tell. That uncertainty hangs over all of them as the faint breathing of a collapsed body grows more pitched and panicked.

Megumi always sort of hated you. He didn’t like you from the second he first met you, and it just grew and grew and grew from there. He hates your stupid demeanor with your higher-than-thou morals and your sky-high milestones and that grin that could make even the coldest heart split in two. It doesn’t escape him that this is the same reason he always did enjoy Maki, but you were — more recognizable to him, and yet somehow much further away.

He always hated the way he’d catch himself watching the soft motion of your lashes, or how your mouth would form words, the heat that would carry color to your face. He always hated the quiet moments you’d sit by his side, rattling his heart out of his chest and laughing at him for his hot cheeks; and he always hated how you’d be the thought on his mind right after he’d made sure his own limbs hadn’t yet been blown to bits. But standing with his hands covered in a coating of blood that isn’t his, dripping onto the panes of the old flooring, he wonders what that hatred ever really got him. It never helped him understand you better, that for someone so alike himself, you were so much better at everything.

His chest is rising and falling too fast.

Gojo’s too late, always is when it comes down to the wire, Megumi thinks as the lankier man rushes through and stops a few feet away from them. Yaga’s brow pinches, before he lifts his head the slightest bit to acknowledge the white blond. “What’s the status,” Gojo has to ask, and before he has another conscious thought, Megumi’s furiously rubbing his hands over his sweater in an attempt to get the blood off while his teeth clack with how hard he’s clenching them. There’s a thickness between his ears that makes everything sound far off. The blood stains his fingers the more he rubs, and his face gets hotter and hotter as it lasts.

But he thinks he hears the principal explain.

How you had been pinned down and knocked clean out, head bashed against the concrete pillars. How Megumi had been too busy trying and failing to keep the uglier curse from blasting you both to shit, to notice. How the other special grade had picked you up by the neck and unceremoniously shoved something into your mouth and pushed until it went down your throat - until you started convulsing, spitting out blood and bile before he could reach you. Megumi hadn’t taken the time to look then, but he knows now what it was, slimy, decaying contents of a little vial that had gone missing a few months ago.

“The girl must’ve been a real good match.” Yaga pushes his fingers to his brow, as if forcibly trying to push the frown down. “Ieiri’s doing what she can.” It doesn’t make any of them feel better when Gojo clicks his tongue and aims his eyes at the door, before casting a quick glance at Megumi under thick, blond lashes. He wants to puke. He’d shoved his fingers down your throat for what felt like hours, trying desperately to get you to throw up the curse. Had carried you all the way back while you were sobbing and wailing in pain. Nothing.

If even the worst case repeats itself, they’ll have another incarnation on their hands, and the noose will be tightened around your throat. Yuji must have already realized this, because he’s yet to say anything since you’d been tied onto the stretcher with blood pouring out of your nose and ears and coughing up grime. Megumi’s not even sure if Ieiri would hesitate to put you down without a second warning before it gets to the same turning point. And he is pissed. At the situation, his friends, himself, you. He’s so angry his hands shake, and so angry tears start stinging behind his eyes, feeling like any motion might cause him to throw up. He hates you.

Your chest’s rising with big motions up and down, up and down, as you drum your feet on his bedsheets like an excited rabbit. Megumi grunts, snatches the book from your hands and tosses it back down with the others that were not-so-neatly stacked on his desk. Your shape on his bed makes a dent in his mind that he’ll have to keep replaying over and over when he closes his eyes, and it has a frown pulling his eyebrows down automatically. “So grumpy,” you yawn, and also roll over onto your stomach to tuck your legs to your core, lifting one hand to rest your face into it.

“This isn’t your room.”

“Might as well be,” you giggle back, and he watches for a moment as your hair falls along your shoulders in a gentle brush, making you look even more enchanting. You’re soft and parts of you are shiny like silk, seemingly oozing your rosy, peachy aura all over his stuff. You catch his eyes for just a few breaths, still rising your chest too distractingly, before you push yourself up and slide off the bed to walk up to him. He pivots to thumb through the notes on his desk again, to be farther away from your face probably, and his shoulders rise into an uncomfortable pinch when you approach, feet patting on his floor. “Megumi.” You say his name with a clear pout.

Then heat covers his skin at the base of his throat and he freezes, letting the way you drag your soft lips over his pulse fill him up entirely. His hands shake too hard to keep a grip on the paper, so he spins you around and shoves you back against the desk as you hiss at the sudden painful grip, his fist wrapped into the collar of your shirt. “I already told you to stop doing that.” He hisses, and your eyes are wide and glittering like diamonds, beautiful color peering up at him.

“But you like it when I do that,” you whisper back ever so softly, and his head feels like it’s splitting at the seams, cracking his skull under a non-escapable pressure. He can’t think, can’t even eat normally without the ghost of you hanging over him and shaking him up. It’s unbearable even when you’re not around. His fist unclenches from the flimsy fabric to instead grip your chin with his thumb, and his heart bangs against his ribcage harder than can be normal. Harder than is healthy. A little thought in the back of his skull begs to push. Just once, deny you from digging your claws deeper into him— but he’s already melted to your shape before he can blink.

His face drops like you’re magnetic, thighs pushing you further into the desk and also into him; and it’s truly embarrassing that his hands are still shaking like they do. You lean in when he does, and let your lips meet his hungry, treacherous mouth, other hand sliding to your waist to pull you closer. Your tongue brushes his and he implodes inside, and he swears it hurts to be this close to you.

Not that you care. Your arms wind around his neck to pull him even closer, and his blood feels like it’s boiling under his skin.

He finds himself wandering back to the quieter wing of the school when the sun’s already dipped far past the horizon, and the cold starts picking up. He’s dragging his feet, so he won’t fucking rush back to the room he finds himself thinking about so fast he stumbles. He’s glaring at the patterns in the floorboards so he doesn’t cry. You’re stable- quiet puffs of air escaping your nose every few seconds, but you’re still under surveillance. As far as the clans are concerned, they’ll put something sharp between your eyes sooner rather than later, before whatever’s slumbering inside you wakes up. But Gojo’s fighting for you. It makes him grimace to think about.

Knocking his knuckles onto the doorframe, he enters the dimly lit room. Nanami doesn’t stand when he spots him, but does uncross his legs as he takes a deep breath. Neither of them speak for a while, and the dark haired man takes that time to run his eyes over you. You’re not as dirty as you were when you first got back, shivering and shaking. You’re no longer dripping with blood, though he’s sure if he were to look close enough, he’d still be able to see flecks of it between your cracked lips. As he walks up, he finds himself thinking that you look strangely peaceful, and that doesn’t seem entirely right.

Save for the bloody mark that seems branded into your forehead, you look like you’re quietly sleeping on the metal slab that supports your body. After all the pain and agony you’ve caused in him, sleepless nights and long days of wondering, hoping you’d be okay. Why is it that he’s the one affected by you? Why is it that he’s the one who’s going to have to say goodbye again? He stares at your unmoving form as if that’ll give him an answer, but it doesn’t. And the pit in his stomach swells again. He’s just so angry all the time. Megumi breathes out. “It’s my turn to take watch for a while.”

“You’re early,” Nanami’s deep baritone chastises, but he gets up from the seat anyway. He smooths out the wrinkles in his suit, before slowly placing a hand on the other’s shoulder. The weight is heavy, and somehow doesn’t soothe him at all. But there’s an attempt, he guesses. He’s still not entirely sure why everyone is looking at him like he’s the one who needs it most, broken and disheveled and mourning. He’s been able to finish his tasks like everyone else has, and he can banish the thought of you when he’s supposed to focus on work— at least, mostly. He doesn’t need the fucking pity. “Want some coffee? Or green tea?” Nanami asks, letting his hand slide off when Megumi shrugs.

“No. I’m okay.”

The older man seems to hesitate, simply nodding when he walks past. Before closing the door behind him, he once again clears his voice, and Megumi turns over his shoulder. The blond has this look in his eyes, of pity, as he talks. “Megumi, there’s a chance she pulls through.” Why again - that fucking pity? “Don’t give up.” Though it makes him tingle with an unbearable sort of itch deep under the skin, he grits his teeth, and his brain’s hot and irritated when he responds.

“I wasn’t going to.” Nanami doesn’t seem to believe him, but still softly slides the door closed behind him, and when the footsteps grow softer and softer, Megumi allows for a second to collect himself. He braces his hands onto the metal as he leans in, close enough to feel just the slightest bit of your warmth on his fingers, and see the way you’re still breathing, though shallow, too faint for his liking. His brows pinch when he finds himself with his forehead pressed to your stomach, hunched over like he’s praying at your shrine or something. But he can’t help it.

As much time as he spent beside you with a frown on his face, it never feels enough. He can’t stay away, like it’s an involuntary thing— you leave him no choice in the matter. Even here in the darkness, whining softly into your wheezed breaths, it isn’t enough to be beside you. He can’t do anything from here at your bedside; and that uselessness makes him feel even more uneasy. He needs to be closer to you. Wants to be so close you two get stuck together and melt together like an inseparable entity, would want to crawl inside you if he could.

His nose presses into the clean shirt that smells like your laundry, as he clenches his fists so hard along the table edge they start to ache. His eyes are pressed closed tight when he allows him just a second to nose below your sternum, and that uncomfortable stinging sensation comes back to his eyes. “Fucking idiot,” his lips brush against your covered skin, taking in the lack of heat, of your smell and the way you sounded with his face buried there, “I didn’t mean it.”

“Aw, ow, ow, Megumi~” You pout with a pitched whine as his hand stays screwed around your knee for a little longer, keeping you trapped under his heavier, taller body so that you start wiggling. Your head falls back against his arm, and you lean to press a few kisses to his wrist that’s holding your own to the floor. “Be more gentle.” You pout when you pull back and flash him that fucking look that sends icy shivers down his spine, and exactly nothing else. “You can be gentle, can’t you?” Every other part of him flushes with heat under your doe-eyed, pitiful look, definitely when you start wiggling out of his grasp like you’re suddenly over the game.

You started it. He wouldn’t put himself in your range on purpose. When you’re about halfway out from under his crouched form, you sit up to be face to face; and you brush your hand past his ear, down his jaw and neck and trail his collarbones, all places he’s convinced are now stained a bright, obnoxious pink from his flush. You let your fingers linger when you tilt your head aside a bit so you can slot your lips over his into a sweet, little kiss, and you pull your lips into another pout. “Swear you’re doing it to hurt me sometimes. I’m never trying to hurt you, you know.” A few strands of hair fall over your eye when you sit below him, and he has to fight every single muscle in his body not to push it back for you.

He wants to see your eyes. He wants you to see him like this, pinned under you like the attraction you render him as— his body collapses on top of you as you start giggling all fucking cutely, and his heart races more than it ever has. Your heartbeat drums into his face when he buries it into your softness, chest against his cheek, too long for his own sanity before he drags himself off you. And it is a drag. His entire body starts feeling sluggish when you’re this close to him, close enough to drown himself in your scent. He won’t ever say it, but that scent gets him hard and awfully mellow all at once, his cock coming to life in his pants before he’s moving.

You look happy. Your eyes are those bright, gentle colors that rain down on him, and your lips are quirked into a soft smile, you must know what you’re doing to him. Setting him up for failure again. He huffs and pushes himself onto his back instead, knocking his head to the floor while you’re moving from the rug - splaying your knees either side of him before you nuzzle right back on top of his chest and make it even harder to get a breath, let alone catch it. He’s sure he’s panting a little when you leave your warmth draped all over him, and you don’t do anything other than be there.

His arms are still on the floor, his body rigid under you, but you’re softly giggling into his peck before he frowns down at you again when you catch his eyes. “What?”

“Your heart is beating super fast,” you admit, not proud, not gloating - just stating the fact, and heat overtakes his neck now too. Instead of letting you wind him up any further, he bucks you off and switches positions again, now with your two wrists caught in his hands as you squeak with the ache that probably lodges in your back.

“Can you get off of me?” He sits back on his feet, not letting go of your hands yet, before your eyes flutter and you grab him back. Well, brush your fingers over the skin you can reach, pawing at him just enough to tickle. “What’s with you today?” he bites back, and also snatches his hands back to escape the onslaught of feelings that wash over him. You don’t sit up this time, and from the tilt of your head, you’re considering your answer for a while before you speak out.

“Do you like me, Megumi?” Fuck. His room seems to collapse in on itself. Or, maybe it’s his body— because he gets a little more short of breath, and his thoughts short circuit as his mouth stupidly drops open. He’s choked up for long enough that he has to clear his voice to try an answer, and even then, he gets stuck. You’re studying him so closely it must show. The blaring warmth that fills him up and makes his ears bright red. After another second, your eyes seem to dim slightly, as you push your cheek to your shoulder, opening yourself up to even more attacks. “Love y’, ‘gumi.”

He straightens up with enough tightness in his chest to choke him, makes his eyes sting and his head blare cold, painful warnings— he grabs some of the glasses from the small table beside him, launches it straight into the wall until it shatters into a million pieces upon impact. The loud clang doesn’t do anything to settle his anger, where he fists his hands into his hair and pulls, in hopes the worry will somehow vanish.

“Why do you always have to be such a hero?” he hisses, even though you can’t answer now, “wouldn’t it have been enough to just stay here with me?!” He tilts your face to his and drops his lips to yours, and that familiar softness is enough to have him clenching his eyes shut again against the tears. He kisses you until your mouth opens a bit, then slides his tongue up against yours and grips your shoulders, pulling your limp body towards him more. “I’ll be better to you.” He pleads. You don’t move, and the breaths going over his cheeks are so shallow.

But he can’t stop himself from tangling your tongue with his, licking into your mouth and chasing the warmth until he runs out of breath. You’re so fucking pretty still. He kisses you again, bumping teeth, and grips your hip hard as he lays over you a little more, chest to chest and feeling it brush against him with each soft pant he lets out, each gravelly moan. It doesn’t hurt so much to brush his tongue against yours, to swallow your taste on his tongue until his lips numb — but while it doesn’t ache, it’s also not enough. Before he’s able to think about the morality of his actions, his thumbs are hooking under your shirt and pushing it up, over your soft belly and ribcage all the way up until it’s over your tits, where his lips travel to as soon as the skin’s exposed. You’re so soft still, too.

He’s not sure what he’s doing other than leaving messy, open mouth kisses onto you, kneading your skin between his hands as all the warmth in his body pools into his groin. Your tits are sucked into his mouth, one then the other, as he rubs his face into the doughy skin, then he’s pulling and pinching at your tits like he knows makes you whimper. The sound’s burned into his working memory, and it drives him on to run his face down your soft body to the part where your thighs meet. The skin just above your skirt of the softest, warmest, and he full on moans when his cock twitches hard in his pants and he reaches down to grab himself.

Normally you’d be blinking up at him now, sending him that little look with grabby hands, ready to wrap your puffy lips around him— it’s different when it’s his hand screwed around himself and not even moving yet. he can’t, or he’ll cum in his pants, and he’s not going to waste his cum like that when your warm pussy’s right before him. He’s shaky when he pushes the fabric up, flipping it over your tummy; and groans again when he licks down your panties and mouths at the seat of it. It tastes so much like you his eyes roll back, and his knees give a little, while more precum leaks out of him and into his pants.

He frees his hands momentarily to slide you to the edge of the metallic table, two hands gripping your butt and squeezing, then hooking his finger in your panties to just pull them aside. He doesn’t care about the chaffing he’ll have. Not even a second thought when your little pussy is in front of him, and he pushes his mouth to you for some open mouthed kisses, down to your pussy and back up. Wrapping his mouth around your clit, he sucks hard, and rubs the bud a few times with his tongue. He swears your breathing goes more pitched and heavier when he does, when his fingers trail down your puffier lips to rub the bit of wetness around.

His cock’s painfully hard in his pants, and after a few more times licking you up and down so that your slick covers the entire bottom half of his face, he pushes the zipper down and then takes himself out to watch how red and sore the head of his cock already is, oozing pre and coating both his boxers and his shaft. He spits into his hand to give himself a few tight-wrung pumps, tighter than he likes normally- if he doesn’t, he’ll spill all over your cute, little pussy. He pushes his fingertips inside your now wetter cunt, watching it wink and beg for something to fill, and groans when one finger slides in with ease.

Your soft walls are still soft and hot around him, giving mean licks over your clit again and again in a way that would normally overstimulate you too easily. You don’t whimper or whine now, take his finger nice and sweet inside your squelching, gooey walls, only making a little noise when he slides in a second and he can feel the slight bit of stretching you need. He’s dripping onto the table now, balls tight and heavy - imagines how you moan and look when you’re sucking on them and you smack your lips with each open mouthed kiss or lick. You between his legs is always enough to have his knees giving, and it’s no different now, he has to hold himself up against you before he thinks better of it.

You’re slid back on the table too easily, making room for him when he pushes one of your legs aside— and let out a slight gasp when he hoists himself over your body. He just wants you. So bad. It’s not so embarrassing when you’re not awake to see how fucking crazy he looks, flushed, cock twitching between his legs as he strains to kiss you again, lick over your tongue for more of your taste, and breathes your name. “Baby, fuck- I need to be inside you.” He wants to hide away in your safety forever. A crystalline, fucked up thought springs up in his mind for just a second, but he banishes that with a few blinks.

Instead he lines himself up over your hot, needy pussy and pushes inside just the head at first, grunting tightly at the softness that envelops him. His whole body shudders as he pushes in deeper, feeling that pit in his stomach expand with each inch that he goes deeper, tangles his fingers with yours when he bottoms out and fills you up so well. You’re curled into his touch, and he kisses you, his thoughts blanking as he pulls back, and snaps his hips back inside you. You’re hot and wet and it feels so fucking good, clenching your hand inside his larger one. It’s not fair. He’s losing his mind, and you’re always the end of him.

His cock rubs against your swollen insides with rough, imprecise strokes — he doesn’t mean to, it’s just that trying to focus on anything other than the heat as he slides in and out of your tight pussy is too much. You’re too much; you’re haunting him even now. He kisses down your face to your neck, sucks on your skin and bites down hard enough to make a serious mark, wanting to hear you cry. Normally, you’d cry out his name so pretty, dig your nails into his back until he’s letting you go and grinding back on his cock, but you can’t do that now. His cockhead bumps your spot each time he fucks himself into you further, but it’s not enough.

It’s never been enough. He wants to be closer to you, and that horrible image that was launched into his head creeps back up before his eyes, bloody and horrible. Maybe he always told himself that he hated you because - no matter how much he fought, he would never be able to stomach actually hurting you as much as it hurts him. But now, withering on top of you as his cock thumps with how much blood rushes south, everything else falls away. He wants to claw and bite and carve his way to your insides and make you pay just a little for his sins. His body is coated in a thin sheen of sweat, thighs pumping blood through his body to his lungs, his gut, his cock.

He pulls out of you to kiss down your tits and over your covered ribs, thumbing over the head of his cock and gliding it over your puffy clit, your wet pussy lips and flicking it just in and out of your drooling cunt— before he puts a sloppy few kisses there too, tongue coated in slick. The blood pumps through his head so hard he feels dizzy, pounding behind his eyes as the heat of your cunt overwhelms him entirely. It’s too hard to stay sane -he’s never felt less sane than now- when you’re laying below him like this, ready to leave him all alone. You wormed your way into his heart when he didn’t want it, and now, now that’s all about to end.

His mouth is dry, but he’s drooling as he grips your thigh and kneads the doughy skin of your tummy— looking so soft and warm and perfectly shaped for him. He wants -needs, needs it, to feel you swallow him, ruin him- to cut you open and eat your insides out with the sick force of what he’s feeling right now— he groans your name again, desperately trying and failing to get it out of his head— the more he tries the better it feels to think it. Despite having his fist around the base of his cock, stings of white shoot over your body as he crumples in on himself and paints you with his cum. He’s still hard though, painfully so, and as soon as he’s done cumming he can already feel the building urge to do it again, trailing his shaking fingers down to your clenching pussy and rubbing your clit until your body starts wiggling back just a little too.

Megumi wants to go, bury this urge down and never think of it again. He really does— but it’s like he’s possessed, drooling over your body and flicking his cock in and out of your pussy without sliding back in. He might’ve had it wrong this whole time, but if this is love - God, he loves you, he loves, loves, loves you so much he’s not ever going to have enough. Can’t ever say goodbye, not when his entire soul’s been bound to yours, has been rotted away into nothing like this. There’s only you, and him; and he can’t get close enough to make this fucking feeling go away.

With black spots swimming over his vision, he’s not sure what he’s doing until he’s knelt on the floor and shards of glass cut his knees open through his pants; he doesn’t feel it - just trembles as he gets one of the larger shards and crawls back to you, right between your plush thighs as he kisses your face over and over until he feels like he’ll be sick. “Forgive me when you wake up, baby.” It doesn’t really sound like him anymore, faint and messy as he ruts his cock against the inside of your thigh and stares at your face for a little longer. He paws at your tummy again, maybe it’s the lack of oxygen - he feels like he hasn’t taken a breath in ages - or the fact that all his blood is cleary in his swollen cock, hot and heavy.

He kisses you again, pants against your chest as he watches between your two bodies as one arm keeps him up, and the other drags the shard of glass below your belly button just hard enough to create a little cut. He just- just wants to be a little closer, you’ll let him, you’ll let him- he’s been so fucking mean to you and if he can just do this, he’ll make it up to you. Specks of blood well up that he swipes his thumb through to slide it into his mouth, get used to the taste of copper on his tongue. Sometimes he bites your lip hard enough to split it, and you tear up and whine, tangle your fingers in his hair.

He could cum on the spot when you yank like that, but the taste now isn’t enough. As he pushes the shard of glass into your skin harder, watching one layer make way for another, tougher tissue that still gives when he grids down a little- he waits for the moment where he feels bad, regrets and walks it all back- but the feeling doesn’t come. Your body looks so pretty like this, robbed of your innocence by his hands; and he doesn’t wanna cum yet, fuck. The adrenaline swimming in his head is pounding too hard to feel anything other than love for you, and the pulling, almost unbearable sensation of wanting to slide back into you. The blood pools around the hole as he slides along, hearing the skin squelch and snap, building a sweat along his neck and collar. Maybe you’d lick it up if you were awake.

The blood runs, covers his entire fist that’s wrapped tight around the glass, it creates little rivers that you’ll both be laying in soon. He coughs, before kissing you below your jaw, feeling the weak pulse beneath his lips— and righting himself to look at his work with a better angle, groaning. There’s both more blood and less than he expected, pooling in your belly button, all over your pretty pussy, his thighs and hands- his cock not yet. He drops the glass aside as he thumbs over the wound and sure enough- he’s cut through fat and muscle and sinew without too much struggle, because you’re soft all over.

He pushes the fleshy gash open more, thumbs over the clean cut he made with a strange sort of fascination before the hot, hot blood gets to be too much for his curiosity and he leans in to lick from your clit up, up, up until his tongue reaches the raised, tight skin— what has he done, what’s he doing, this, this isn’t — he can’t stand the heat that’s coming out of you for long, and it smells, but that isn’t what sticks with him right now. He’s never wanted to be closer. The gaping pouch of your belly’s drooling red for him. The head of his cock twitches when he feels the hot of your stomach coating him in blood, and coating you in turn. The cum from before’s all but washed away, but he’s sure he can give you another couple orgasms before he tuckers out.

He’s strung so high all of this feels like a dream, like his head is about to roll off of his neck; he pushes in with a garbled sort of sound that comes from deep, deep inside him. The skin doesn’t wanna give way at first, but he manages to push back hard enough before suddenly he’s inside, and it’s like nothing else. The pressure of a slab of skin taking him where it’s not meant to go— bleeding and whining out like this, it’s euphoric. He’s able to see his cock’s outline glide into you until it’s bulging your stomach, squelching and sucking him back in; feels like you’re taking him deeper than ever, letting him fuck his cock so deep he’ll hit your ribs soon. You’re so fucking beautiful, even like this, getting coated and letting him fuck it.

He doesn’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re dying, but the peace that washes him entirely clean might be close; he grinds his hips into you hard enough to rock your body under him as he laces your hands again. Both, this time, just chasing after an end that seems like it’ll never come.

He feels infinite. Your blood’s so hot it’s almost painful, and the tightness of the hole he carved into you is entirely different from your pussy, pushing back against him like you’re begging him to get out. He imagines you’d beg so pretty- but he’s inside you, finally inside and deeper than anyone’s ever been. He’s able to watch his cock blow up your belly and make it hollow when he pulls back, and God- he should feel worse than he does. He could swallow you whole if you’d let him. The feeling has him shuddering over you as he pants your name, makes your tits brush over his chest- and his balls smack against the smooth stretch of skin until he can’t feel his feet any longer.

Now he’s got you dirtied, he wants to ruin you too, leave you a mangled mess of flesh and swallow every last bit of you until he never forgets the taste. But that would require he’d stop fucking his hot cock into your bloody, little pouch, and that won’t happen. He’s panting, sweat running down his back from the effort, and his groin starts to feel a little raw too. He might’ve been going for hours by now, licking your mouth clean from his drool only to dirty you again. The head of his cock feels fucked raw inside you, and his thighs shake before his shoulders square over you.

Megumi speeds up his pace fucking into your guts -actually- until he clenches every muscle, is overcome again and reaches heaven inside you, spurting creamy white into the pouch he’s created for himself; “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck,” his hand has to twist into an uncomfortable position to reach for your clit, but he wildly does it anyway— cramping up, until he’s collapsing on top of you and stilling inside. The stench of blood makes the entire room smell, as he thumbs over the side of your blood-coated thigh with one hand, and feels the shaking all the way up and down his spine. He pulls out so slowly, pumping the last bits of cum out with a throaty moan, before he slides off the table onto awfully shaky legs.

If he was any more lucid, he’d think twice before leaning by your side to kiss your eyes, your nose, your pouty lips as the tears that must’ve been building for a while run down your temple— and suppresses the need to actually eat you- for now, he rubs a softer hand over your exposed tummy, before folding the now blood-drenched fabric of your skirt back down to hide your puffy pussy, lest he be tempted again. He whispers his love into your ears, nuzzles at your hairline until the feeling comes back to his hands and feet and he tucks his spent cock back into his boxers, and goes about cleaning the mess he made of the floor.

It’s only when an uncomfortable scratchy sound comes that he notices the burning heat on his neck, the dried sweat painfully sticky— and straightens up beside you when you start to shake again. Immediately his worry is sky high. Even in the gross air of mixed blood and cum and the scent of sex soaking everything, his mind is just clear enough to hold your head when you thrash around a few times, and your chest rises wildly up and down. Then before his very eyes, the damage he’d done upon you slowly starts to stitch itself together, like weaving threads. Lacing you up until every bit of muscle, fat, and skin restores to it’s pristine glory before he ever touched you, with a little puff of cursed energy.

He bites his lip hard when the shaking stops, and your back lands back onto the metal with a soft clang. The noise is louder now it’s quiet in the room. Megumi waits for a bit longer before he brushes the hair from your face, and doesn't mind it that he’s leaving tracks. The darkness is filled with his tense breathing, and then — every sound at once. Your eyes shoot open with a cry, sobbing out like a baby for a few painful seconds. But then spot him thumbing your tears away devoted like he is -though he won’t admit it to you, and you let out a noise of pure relief.

It’s almost poetic, when you crash back into his arms and this time, he lets your arms wind around his waist.

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