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bokunoheros · 1 month ago

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TAGS/WARNINGS: gn reader but afab with descriptions of feminine clothing (also katsuki calls you princess like once or twice idk), alcohol consumption, everyone is 24+, shouto is bisexual asf, katsuki and reader are married, reader did not go pro, some mlm action (todobaku content scattered throughout bc i am a god and can make them do whatever i want!!), shouto cucks a little bit, also shouto is a nasty closet perv lol, overstimulation, inappropriate quirk usage, oral (reader receiving), spit roasting, backshots, idk what else i could possibly mention other than this is nothing but filth GENRE: SMUTTTT MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI 18+ ONLY SUMMARY: after a party celebrating their top spot as heroes, shoto gets a little too drunk and has to stay the night with you and your husband, dynamight. shenanigans ensue. a new boyfriend is acquired? WORD COUNT: one million billion (jk it’s 10.4K) 🦊’s A/N: god help me. shoutout XENOVA for the celebration party idea. uhm pt2 maybe if this blows up idk. also this was not proofread bc i’m running out of time and it’s too long. and uhm its not exactly manga-canon bc i think deku deserves to be the no.1 hero idgaf. horikoshi when i catch you. // anyway enjoy lol

it was mina’s idea to hold the party originally, and you who offered to host, since you were the one dating the number two pro hero, dynamight, and had enough space to accompany the old class 1-A. it took a little persuasion from your end to get katsuki on board, but he eventually agreed, despite his bitching about how you two needed to whip this place into shape before anyone dared to set foot into your shared home.

this, of course, meant more work for you in the end since your husband was so terribly busy with work. ….that’s not to say he wasn’t helpful, though; of course not! whenever he wasn’t bone tired from whatever villain attack or whatever there was that day, he was more than happy to help you pick up (well…… that’s how the phrase goes, at least; bakugou himself didn’t mind cleaning with you and helping out around the house, per se, it’s just that he always came off as aggressive in the everything that he did) and really start getting the house ready for the upcoming party this weekend.

when it was all said and done, everything had been dusted and all the floors swept and vacuumed; the pillows on the living room couch had been fluffed and the kitchen counters were wiped down and had been bleached in preparation for the day you were about to spend in the kitchen cooking for this party. at least katsuki was there to help you with this the most out of all the other chores — and it was really the most time consuming one, too, so his help here was greater than he realized. him being an actually good cook just so happened to be an extra, heaven-sent bonus.

despite this, you had actually gone out of your way to prepare three main courses: (cold) soba, katsudon, and then something on the spicier side for your husband for the top three heroes you were celebrating tonight, along with some appetizers and snacks, of course.

finally, the day of the party was upon you, and you finished running your last couple of errands (namely stocking up on alcohol) right as ashido and the rest of the girls arrived in a limo. …..guess yaomomo went all out, huh? well, it's not like you could exactly blame her—it had been years since you had All been together due to everyone being busy with their own work, even now there were a few who couldn't make it, like satou and koji, or mezou and fumikage, due to circumstances out of their control. it was a shame really, you would have loved to have some of rikido’s sweets since he was such a good baker. ah, must not have been meant to be then. no use in dwelling on it. especially when everyone was beginning to pull up!

“eeee, my pookie! how have you been!? how’s life with baku—no, dynamight?!” mina eagerly squeals as she runs towards you, arms extended and ready to grip you in a crushing hug.

“ackgh–! too tight, too tight–!” you choke out as she squeezes you half to death.

“oh, sorry!” she apologizes, letting go and backing up slightly as the rest of the old 1-A girls come up behind her and the limo driver drives back to yaoyorozu’s manor until it was time to come pick the ladies back up. “now. spill all the tea,” she says, giving you a serious look all of a sudden, and you feel a smile stretch across your face. it’s nice to know she’s just the same as she was in high school.

“well—why don’t you come in and see for yourself?” you gesture to your shared home, to which the girls gawked at in awe. it wasn’t an estate or anything like yaomomo’s place of residence, but it was certainly large enough to accompany everyone attending and then some.

leading them inside, you open the already unlocked door (katsuki was busy in the kitchen aggressively finishing up the fruit platters and charcuterie boards, making sure they were up to his standards before serving them) and led them all in.

“kats, ‘m home! n’ all the girls are here!” you shout loud enough from him to hear you from the foyer.

your husband swears and grumbles under his breath, eyes darting to look at the clock just as it struck 17:00 (that’s 5pm for those of you who don’t use the 24hr format). goddammit, they were perfectly on time. whatever, he was done arranging the meats and cheeses of the charcuteries anyway.

moving to set the trays on the coffee table in the living room for everyone to enjoy, he greets you at the door with the softest little smile ever, one mina just barely catches sight off, which she immediately teases him for and his usual scowl makes a re-appearance in record time as he becomes prickly and sharp again, huffing out a gruff make yourselves at home or whatever.

after that, it was another twenty-ish minutes before nearly everyone else arrived.

shouto, however, was the last to get there due to him getting into an argument with his father prior to leaving. it was a surprise to even himself that he decided to come anyway, but he had grown to be more sociable than he was back in high school, and also he was one of the three people the party was actually being thrown for, so…. it would just be incomplete without him there, and he recognized that.

soon, the party kicked into full swing and the alcohol was excitedly opened and everyone could feel themselves relaxing as it grew closer to dinnertime—which you happily (and tipsily) served to everyone around half past seven.

once everyone had eaten and had time to let their food settle, people began saying their goodbyes as the night grew later and later. all except shouto, that was, who was actively still drinking, sitting on your couch with a bottle of sake in his left hand as he watches everyone else clears out.

“fuck’s he doin’? just sittin’ there,” bakugou grumbles, coming up to stand next to you after seeing eijirou and denki to the door (uptight as he could be, even your husband was capable of relaxing after a drink or two…. or several). he wasn’t… erm, upset with shouto’s prolonged visit, per se, but he was definitely tired and wanted some alone time with his spouse for fuck’s sake.

“be nice, ‘tsuki,” you scold him lightly, moving to walk towards shouto, who had a sleepy look in his eyes, to stand in front of him. “hey, todo, y’okay?” you ask, waving a hand in front of his tired face.

“mmh? ‘m fine.” his words slur together slightly as he refocuses his blurry gaze on you, and for a moment, the number 3 pro hero thinks you look like an angel sent from heaven to take care of him—until katsuki ruins the moment by walking over and saying;

“great, then you can obviously get yourself home!”

“katsuki!” you hiss, looking over to where he stood next to you. “you can stay the night if you need to, shouto,” you tell him softly, squatting down in front of him and placing a hand on each knee to look up at him from almost between his legs — something your husband absolutely did not appreciate.

“hey—” he tries to interject, but the young todoroki had already accepted your kind offer, knowing better than to walk or drive home in his current state.

“relax, kats, he can sleep on the couch if you don’t want him in a guest bedroom—even though that’s what they’re for,” you suggest/remind him.

“i guess,” he huffs, crossing his arms as you finally stand back up.

shouto, meanwhile, moves to stand up from where he sat, swaying a bit before you put both hands on his broad shoulders and force him to sit back down.

“nuh-uh, you sit right there, sir,” you say playfully. “is there something you need?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as katsuki grits his teeth while you tend to that drunk icyhot cunt. (as if he himself wasn’t also wasted).

shouto pauses to think for a moment, thinking about his words carefully before opening his mouth.

“do you have any—” he lags and forgets the word he’s looking for mid-sentence. “uhm. ….unfrozen ice?” he asks, tilting his head partially to the side like a confused creature might.

“oh my god,” bakugou groans at his request as you break out into a fit of giggles. “you fucking mean water?” he asks his fellow pro-hero. god. what a sorry fuckin’ sight he was — can’t-stand-up-drunk on katsuki’s couch, while he forgot a word as basic as water. jesus christ, he cannot believe you offered to let this fool stay here without even asking him if it was okay first. whatever. he’d just have to fuck you so good that that walking peppermint couldn’t sleep at all. yeah, he could totally do that.

“water, yes,” shouto follows up as you have to wipe the tears from your eyes at his drunken words. standing up straight, having doubled over from laughter, you nod and tell him yeah, we have unfrozen ice, and that you’ll get him some.

after you had left the room, though, katsuki huffs loudly and stares down at shouto, who was still seated on the plush sofa.

“listen, todoroki,” he spits out, one hand splaying out in an aggressive manner as his quirk popped off quietly. despite the alcohol in his system, katsuki was still just as…. well, just as aggressive and competitive as always despite the way he had grown more outwardly affectionate (towards you specifically) over the course of the evening.

“i dunno, or care, what you’re trying but just know—” an embarrassing hic cuts him off and his face flushes from more than just the alcohol. suddenly, his big tough guy act drops as his blush reaches the tips of his ears and you come back into the room with two cups of water, handing one off to shouto and the other to your husband.

both men silently and gratefully take the glasses from you, gulping it down before they even realized just how thirsty they were until the cups were empty and they were looking at you, causing you to suddenly feel small under their intense gazes.

“‘ll go—get s’more,” you slur, taking the now empty glasses back from the two men, and also this moment alone to calm your racing heart, and maybe pour yourself another shot. or two. or three. calm down, you’re only alone with the two finest men in the world — one of which you’re married to!! you think to yourself as you begin pouring them another glass from the nice water pitcher you had specifically set out for tonight.

taking the bottle of vodka from its spot on the counter, you look at how much is left and simply decide on drinking straight from the bottle and polishing it off. little did you know, you’d need that liquid courage for later on tonight. before bringing the two well-built men their water, you dispose of the vodka bottle, putting it in the recycling and heading back into the living room.

after a comment from katsuki about how it was getting late, you escort shouto upstairs to a guest bedroom and show him where the bathroom is before excusing yourself to your shared bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind you, just for katsuki to barge in seconds later as you move to the master bathroom to start brushing your teeth.

he joins you shortly after, having discarded his nicer dress shirt and pants in the bedroom’s laundry basket, leaving him far more comfortable in his unfairly flattering black boxer briefs.

“jesus—kats, how are you so fuckin’ fine?” you ask after spitting out a mouthful of toothpaste, and he only chuckles and lets a small smile stretch across his lips.

“dunno—could ask you the same thing, though,” he quips back, grabbing his own toothbrush from the little cup it sat in, running it under the water before putting the toothpaste on it and bringing it up to his already white teeth and scrubbing the night’s grime away.

you giggle at his words, running your toothbrush under the water and giving your teeth a final once over with the brush and scrape your tongue, rinsing it one final time, and then tapping it against the sink’s edge to get some of the excess water out.

finally, you made your way to the bed, sitting on the edge of it as you watch your husband finish up in the bathroom before he stalks over to you, an almost predatory look in his eye as he comes to tower over you and you can feel a chill run down your spine as he sizes you up from your spot on the king sized bed.

“katsuki..? what’re you—”

your question is almost immediately cut off as his slightly chapped lips come crashing down against yours as he knocks you back onto the bed and stands between your now spread legs—which quickly wrap around his narrow waist as his large and calloused hands find purchase on your hips.

“mmmfgh,” your hum turns into a moan as you focus on the feeling of your husband’s lips against yours, melting into him as he leans over you, teeth clacking slightly as he tilts his head for a better angle to kiss you at.

“was getting tired of that icyhot bastard,” he grumbles, eyebrows furrowing together as the grip on your hips tighten possessively at the mention of shouto, as if your husband wasn’t the one to bring him up?

his words make you chuckle nonetheless as a smile spreads over your pretty, soon to be kiss-swollen, lips as you lean back on your palms, the bed sinking beneath your weight.

“‘m sorry, tsuki,” you mumble softly before you feel his tongue run over your lower lip, silently begging for entrance to your hot mouth — to which you eagerly granted access to, moaning quietly when he licks into your mouth. he tastes like tequila and spicy udon, and it’s utterly intoxicating (or maybe that was the last of the vodka you’d downed earlier taking effect). “didn’ mean t’invite him withou’ askin’ you,” you slur out, rolling your hips up against his growing erection.

“‘s okay, i guess,” he pants, pulling away only slightly in order to look you in the eyes, letting you know that he really didn’t mind. sure, shouto was quiet and didn’t actually interfere with what he had planned tonight (or so he thought), so he was only mildly annoyed instead of genuinely bothered. besides….. he had left the door partially open after barging into the bedroom on purpose… just in case that walking candy cane happened to overhear and wanted a peak at the show he wouldn’t be allowed to join.

and just like that, your husband’s lips come crashing down against yours yet again, tongue easily seeking out your own and swirling around yours before sucking it into his mouth, humming pleasantly around the wet muscle (he was in a shockingly good mood, actually…. guess he enjoyed the party more than he let on—that and the alcohol was a large factor, too) before pulling off of it with a nasty, wet pop! noise.

“mmh, glad you’re not mad,” you mutter, eyes fluttering open to take a peek at him. and what you saw was downright angelic — a harsh contrast from his usual demeanor and appearance.

“why would i be?” he asks, and you straight up laugh, ruining the moment entirely. “hey–!”

“sorry, ‘m sorry—it’s just—” you wipe a tear from your eye. “you’re usually not so— what’s the word? calm? something like that,” you try explaining to him, a smile gracing your features.

“i’m calm! i’m always calm!” he spits out, raising his voice, sending you into another round of laughter.

“god—i love ya s’much, kats,” you tell him after composing yourself, shifting on the bed so you were leaning against the plush pillows lining the headboard and bakugou eagerly follows after you, moving between your legs, which easily wrapped back around his hips, pulling him closer against you, and he shifted so that he was propping himself up on a forearm, his other hand coming to press against the small of your back, arching it for you as his lips found their way to your neck, where he began to nip at the sensitive skin there.

“you’re pretty great too, i s'pose,” he grins against your flesh before beginning to suck at the junction of your neck and shoulder, determined to leave a mark dark enough to last a week, at least.

“yeah? ‘s good t’hear,” you giggle breathily as he assaults your neck, and one hand comes to cradle the back of his head, fingers threading through his mysteriously spiky hair (you’ve never once seen him use hair gel—hell, you’ve even searched his entire side of the bathroom because you didn’t believe him when he told you it’s just like that).

it doesn’t take long for bakugou to get fed up with the clothes separating your bare skin from his, desperate to physically feel you against him, and in record time, he has the skirt of your dress bunched up around your hips, you’re sitting up slightly, and he’s tugging the fabric the rest of the way off, carelessly throwing it onto the floor.

shouto, meanwhile, lay awake staring at the ceiling in your comfortable guest’s bed, drunkenly reminiscing back to high school, and the crush he didn’t know was a crush he had on you. had he known, he probably would have asked you out sometime in your senior year—instead, he misinterpreted his affections as an intimate friendship with admiration for you and your quirk. what always baffled him, though, is why you would pick katsuki bakugou to love out of all people (not like you really had a choice in the matter…… one day you woke up and realized your supposed hatred for him was, in fact, a bone-deep love that consumed you whole).

with an achy sigh, todoroki sits up and gets up to use the bathroom. after washing his hands and splashing his face with some cool water to sober up at least a little, his ears perk up on the way back to his temporary room. on his way back, however, he happened to catch the faintest echo of a feminine moan, and before he can stop himself, he’s silently stalking down the hall to the master bedroom, where he found the door to be cracked open wide enough for him to get a surprising view of dynamight with his head between your legs and your underwear and dress strewn across the otherwise neat floor.

immediately, his dick twitches to life in his nice dress pants and he nearly groans at the way you moan katsuki’s name so sweetly. god…. that should be me, he thinks to himself enviously as your husband focuses solely on eating you out.

“aa-ahh! mmm, katsuki!” you cry out, both hands coming down in attempt to push his face away from your messy cunt, but to no avail. katsuki offered you no respite as his hot tongue explored your puffy folds as he began to suck on your clit. “katsu—fuck!”

you’re ignorant to the feeling of another pair of eyes on you, too caught up in the feeling of being eaten out, but katsuki isn’t — he feels shouto’s burning gaze, and he can’t help but smirk to himself. so he was right: icyhot couldn’t resist a good show, and boy, was katsuki about to perform.

“hmm?” he hums, one hand resting on your thigh while he uses the forearm of his other arm to keep you from bucking your hips up. he doesn’t exactly care about what it is you’re whining about; he knows you’re fine and he intends to make you cum at least thrice tonight to show off to shouto, who was apparently a giant closeted pervert.

and it was true. shouto was nasty without even realizing it — and that’s not to say he slept around, god no (he was 24 and still a virgin….), he just had fantasies. many of which involved you, and shamefully, on occasion, you and katsuki. it made his cheeks burn to even think about, but he would be a liar if he said he’d never gotten off to the idea of a threesome with you and your husband. jesus, and now, here the opportunity was laid right there in front of him, and what was he doing? slowly starting to palm at his erection and bite his bottom lip as he watches the scene in front of him unfold.

“i— shit–!” you squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back as you tug at his hair. “god, just—! slow down!” you whine, and katsuki’s eye twitches.

like in every other aspect in his life, bakugou tended to be rough and aggressive in the bedroom; put simply, you turned him into a feral man��brought out the inner animal in him. he was, as surprising as it may seem to some, a generous lover, however, due to his have to be the best at everything mentality, so, by extension, this included his ability to give and inflict pleasure (mixed with a healthy amount of pain, because, well.. it’s katsuki).

“nah.” blatantly ignoring your request, he pulls his head away from your drooling pussy, the lower half of his face covered in your slick, and blows a cold puff of air against your throbbing slit, causing you to whine out his name as he nips at the fatty skin of your inner thigh—dangerously close to your cunt—sucking and biting until a dark purple mark begins to form. a smirk stretches over his somewhat thin, although plump, lips knowing shouto would never get to litter your body in bruises and hickeys the same way he does.

“mmh—jesus, kats–!” it’s all you can do to whimper as he resumes the disgustingly messy way he was tongue fucking your pussy.

shouto almost groans as he gets harder and harder, almost painfully so, as he watches katsuki fervently eat you out, and suddenly, he wishes it was him between your legs with bakugou watching instead.

as silently as he possibly can, todoroki begins to unbuckle his belt in order to slip a hand past the waistband of both his pants to feel himself through the fabric of his sickeningly tight boxers. he’s careful to bite back what would be any whimpers or quiet moans, knowing it’s so shotover for him if he gets caught.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, swallowing thickly as he watches as you’re eaten out until you’re cumming with a loud cry of your husband’s name (shouto pretended it was his name you were calling out), and he goes to turn around to hide in the bedroom you’d so kindly allowed him to stay in to jerk off until he hears—

“y’gonna come out, icyhot, or are ya just gonna stand there like a loser cuck all night?” katsuki lifts his head from between your legs to look at the half-and-half bastard peeping on him and his spouse…… what a fucking freak.

“sh–shouto!?” you squeak, not having noticed his presence until the man you’d married had pointed him out. “wh–what’re you—!” you can’t even think of what to say before he’s trying to apologize and katsuki’s cussing him out—telling him to get his ass in here before he really makes him sorry.

just how drunk was your husband? or shouto for that matter? truthfully, you were probably the most sober person in the room.

slowly, silently, and shamefully, shouto makes his way into your bedroom, where he comes to stand at the foot of the bed with a horribly noticeable tent in his pants. he wants to look down at the floor, but he’s physically incapable of taking his eyes off your naked, sweaty form—and katsuki’s toned back, for that matter. he gulps anxiously as he waits for the perpetually angry blond to inevitably break the ice.

much to his surprise, however, it was you to speak up first, admitting that you didn’t mind shouto’s presence—followed by katsuki sarcastically asking if you wanted him to join, to which your body stiffened and cheeks flushed at the thought.

“what? don’t tell me you like the idea of that half n’ half idiot joinin’ the fun?” a wicked grin stretches over his slick lips as he quirks a brow up at you before shrugging and saying; “fine, just remember: you asked for this.”

“you heard ‘em, todoroki, get the hell over here,” he spits out, and shouto complies immediately—he could not believe what was about to happen and neither could (nor katsuki for that matter).

as he closes the gap between you three, he fumbles with the buttons of his dress shirt before ultimately just ripping it open and shrugging it onto the floor. repeating the same action with his pants, he struggles slightly with the zipper before tugging it down and quickly stepping out of them, nearly tripping in the process—to which katsuki has to stifle a laugh.

shouto feels dizzy and light-headed from how hard he is, and he bites his thick bottom lip as he nervously crawls onto the oversized bed, sitting adjacent to you as he awaits further instructions from the ever-demanding bakugou.

“katsu—”

“shut up,” he says gruffly, one large hand coming up to cover your mouth—he was about to dictate everything that was about to go down. “you—todoroki—listen real fuckin’ closely, because i’m not repeating myself. you can look, but ‘m still deciding if you’re allowed to touch yet—” katsuki directs his attention from him to you and asks; “whaddya think, princess? would y’like that? both of us touchin’ you?” and it’s all you can do to nod, cheeks physically heating up in shame and embarrassment.

“i guess i’ll allow it, then,” he says, moving his hand away from your face so he can manhandle you into a sitting up position, making you straddle his lap and telling shouto to move behind you.

you feel your heartbeat quicken significantly now that you’re naked and sandwiched between two of the hottest men you’ve ever been blessed with the chance to encounter. dear god. take a breath, you’ve got this. …..and that’s why your pussy’s all but drooling right now? you can’t help but roll your bare cunt over your husband’s erection, letting out a delicious little moan in the process, and shouto’s equally large hands hesitantly find purchase on your hips, and you look back over your shoulder as he leans in attempt to kiss you—just to be blocked by katsuki’s hand against his pouty lips.

“i didn’t fuckin’ say you could kiss them,” he hisses. shouto, however, mentally shrugs this off, grabs the angry blond’s wrist to move his hand, and leans in over your shoulder, pressing his chest firmly against your back, in order to—kiss your husband instead????!

holy shit—this is so much hotter than it should be, jesus christ. you’re genuinely ashamed of the way shouto moving to kiss katsuki rather than you turns you on, and you even let a little oh my god slip in awe and horny amazement.

“what the actual fuck, icyhot!?” your husband explodes, trying to shove shouto away from him, but causing you to fall back fully into his lap, where you can feel his boner pressing up against your ass.

“n–no,” you speak up. “d–do it again.” you try your best not to mutter the request, looking between the man who had crushed on you all through high school and the one you’d ended up marrying.

“huh!? have you both lost your fucking minds?!”

“please..? do it for me, ‘tsuki?” you beg as sweetly as you can, a pout tugging at your lips as you did your best kicked puppy eyes. as tough as bakugou acted, deep down, he did, in fact, have a soft spot for you, and would do nearly anything for you—and this, unfortunately, was about to be one of the things he was willing to do. maybe he had the whiskey to thank for his… bravery, but for some reason, the idea of making out with that peppermint bastard really didn’t seem so bad. ….jesus, what is he thinking?

“tch, fine,” he clicks his tongue before he’s suddenly snatching you out of shouto’s lap and bringing you back onto his, where he shifts so his back’s against the headboard and says; “‘f y’can ride me, then sure, ‘ll do whatever you want, sweetheart.”

nodding eagerly, you tug the waistband of his boxers down just enough to free his aching cock, where it hits his lower tummy and you impatiently use one hand to line up the angry red tip with your slick entrance before sinking down to the base with ease. you both moan at the feeling and katsuki beckons shouto over after pressing a quick kiss to your shiny lips to remind himself why he was doing this.

shouto’s dick aches enviously, desperately wishing he could feel your heat, but quickly gets over it as his chest presses against your back once again and his lips land against katsuki’s. actually, todoroki was not an experienced kisser—at all, really; he was only copying what he had seen in movies, so he’s a little surprised when the blond’s tongue runs over the seam of his lips and his heterochromatic eyes fly open at the feeling.

katsuki, however, reaches around you to grab shouto’s cheeks, forcing him to part his pretty lips, and he easily slips his tongue past his kiss-swollen lips. meanwhile, shouto’s strong arms wrap around your waist while he allows your husband to explore the inside of his mouth, his face heating up despite the way a chill runs down his spine.

“mmh,” he hums quietly, freezing his tongue in order to give your husband a little surprise—which works very well, seeing as how katsuki pulls away with a heaving gasp.

“what the fuck?” he pants, rolling his hips up into dripping cunt, and you let out a little moan, grinding down against him at the same time, allowing him to brush up against your g-spot while shouto moves to kiss katsuki again, large hands coming up to cup his flushed, tanned cheeks, trying to tilt his head for a better angle as he mimics the way the blond’s tongue had run over the seam of his lips, and is pleasantly surprised when he reluctantly parts his slightly thinner lips for the much calmer man.

jesus christ, you think to yourself, trying to bounce against your husband’s dick to the best of you ability, but groaning in frustration when his absurdly calloused hands come down against your hips to hold you in place.

“mm—’tsuki,” you whine as he wholly focuses on kissing shouto (who was currently living out his wet dream). it’s all you can do to wiggle in place, trying to grind your clit against his neatly trimmed pubic hair, desperate for any kind of friction. meanwhile, shouto’s freezing hand comes up to grope your chest, causing you to let out a quiet yelp at the feeling of him tweaking roughly with your nipple.

poor, poor inexperienced shouto had no gauge or concept of what exactly he was doing, relying on instinct and everything he’d seen in the little porn he had watched; he silently prays he’s acting accordingly and soon his heated left hand is coming up to grab at your other tit.

“sh–shouto!” you moan, almost causing katsuki to pause in his action as a growl leaves his throat—now this just simply would not do, no, no, no. !!!! fuck! his dick twitches inside you as he ruts his hips upwards while holding firmly onto your hips. “je–jesus! katsuki!”

that’s better, he thinks to himself, a smug, self-satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his plump lips as he tries not to overthink his kiss with todoroki. god. as fucking embarrassing, humiliating, and shameful as it was, …..katsuki absolutley could not deny the fact that he was feeling so, so, so many things right now, things he never would have considered sober, let alone acted on, and now….. now, he was rock fucking hard as he feels the inside of shouto’s mouth, tracing his tongue along the grooves of his blindingly white teeth and inner cheeks before swirling it around his own heated muscle.

he wants to tell shouto he’s not half bad at this when he begins to suck on his tongue—taking him violently by surprise—but can’t bring himself to dole out the praise, not wanting him to get an ego about how well he was managing to keep up.

you can feel your stomach doing flips and your pussy creaming around your husband’s cock as the two men you’re sandwiched between really go at it, and suddenly your mouth feels dry as you let out a low, drawn out whine.

“fuck,” is all you’re able to say as you dig your nails into katsuki’s back while arching your own, with shouto still pinching and tweaking with your poor, erect nipples—his hands were almost at extreme temperatures, and you choke out something about how good it feels, offering the number three hero the praise he needed—something bakugou wasn’t a huge fan of.

half n’ half wants to use his quirk? that’s fine—he can, too!

the next thing you know, your hips feel scorchingly hot and you’re hearing the sound of a very small-scale explosion, and you yelp out your husband’s name, pussy fluttering around his achy length, and you have to bite your lower lip when you feel tears welling up in your eyes from all the stimulation. had you known inviting a drunk shouto to stay the night would lead to this, you would have done it years ago! …because honestly, you were crushing hard on him your freshman year of highschool together—but unfortunately for you, that’s when he had first begun to actually explore his emotions for the first time in his life, leading you to believe you never stood a chance with him.

katsuki, however, while his primary emotion was anger, you could tell something was up with him and his feelings towards you when he stopped yelling at you as much compared to the others. don’t get one wrong, he definitely still shouted at you, because that’s just who he was, but….. it was enough for you and the girls of 1-A to pick up on—something they teased you relentlessly about behind closed doors because nobody ever dared to mention anything in front of bakugou in fear of ruining your chances together (as you see, mina and a few others were die hard shippers while the rest enabled this behavior).

“christ’s sake, katsuki,” you hiss as his quirk repeatedly pops off against your reddening skin and you have to physically bite your tongue to keep yourself grounded enough to scold him. …try to, anyway. “thi— this isn’t a—ahh! fuck!—a compe–titon! jesus!” you moan.

a competition.

that word ring in katsuki’s ears as he pulls away from his kiss with shouto, admittedly a little breathlessly, a smirk stretching over his glossy lips.

“now that’s an idea,” he muses out loud, causing shouto to tilt his head and your eyes to widen. goddammit, you just had to go and open your bigass mouth, didn’t you?

“n–no; whatever you— you’re planning, forget about it,” you say as firmly as you can despite the way your pussy flutters around him.

bakugou clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes at the way you whine out such a ridiculous request.

“mmh, nah,” he grins, hands holding you firmly in place against him, preventing you from even rolling your hips—something you’re quick to bitch about.

“god–dammit!” sometimes you wish your husband wasn’t so goddamn strong—it made it that much easier for him to manhandle you into any position he wanted.

“y’up for a little challenge, icyhot?” katsuki ignores you entirely, focusing his intense gaze onto the slightly younger man.

“...sure,” he nods, albeit a little reluctantly, unsure of what exactly he was agreeing to. he hopes he’ll get a chance to steal a kiss from you, but for now, he figures it best to go along with whatever bakugou was about to suggest.

“whoever can make princess here cum the most in five minutes each can fuck their cunt,” he begins, just for shouto to interrupt him.

“and what of the loser?”

“i was getting there—impatient sonuva bitch….” he mutters the last part under his breath like he wasn’t also an impatient sonuva bitch. “anyway, the loser—in this case, i’m sure it’ll be you, y’fuckin’ virgin cuck—can…. fuck right off and watch,” he finishes, cock twitching deep inside you at his own words. he was absolutely positive he’d win the little proposition he’d struck up, which is why the punishment for the loser was so harsh. when in all reality, if he was feeling kind enough, he’d let you suck shouto off as a consolation prize. ….maybe.

“sounds good to me,” todoroki agrees to bakugou’s conditions, feeling his own dick twitch as he steels his nerves—he was so fucked. in this moment, shouto’s never been more grateful for being a fast learner, as that was his only chance at possibly succeeding in such a task. he wasn’t particularly familiar with the afab body, and so he has to actively recall all the porn he had seen—mind you, he was incredibly picky about what exactly he’s watching—when suddenly an idea strikes him and he’s asking katsuki to move his hands so he can pull you off his cock and reposition you so your back was against the bed.

you and your husband are both confused until shouto’s pushing your thighs apart and nestling between them, icy lips kissing down your body until he reaches the mound of your dripping cunt, and you can’t help but get shy—not because you weren’t used to being eaten out, no (katsuki often ate you out until you couldn’t see straight), it was because you just simply were not expecting that from the inexperienced shouto todoroki! but it’s okay, just take a deep breath and—

“aa–aah! fuck! shouto!” you cry out, caught off guard by the way his full lips wrap around your erect clit and begin suckling on it, his freezing tongue moving to swirl around it as he does. he doesn’t exactly know what he’s doing and is more or less figuring it out as he goes based on your reactions and moans.

katsuki is just as taken aback as you were, but for totally different reasons; this was probably one of the last things he had expected todoroki to do, but, but, but…!!! fuck! he couldn’t even be mad about it either because he was the one who had decided to turn it into a competition. shit. okay, whatever, he’d just work around this.

“nngh–!” one of your hands comes to run through shouto’s split hair, tugging the soft locks gently. “wh–where the fuck did you—aah! hhngh!—learn h–how to do this?” you ask breathlessly, looking down at the man between your legs, and you feel a chill run down your spine and goosebumps erupt over your skin when you realize he’s looking right back at you—staring at you intently, doing his best to gauge all your little reactions, both verbal and physical.

katsuki can’t help but agree with your question, because seriously, where the fuck had he learned this shit!?

all he’s able to do, though, is watch with awe as shouto focuses wholly on his attempt to eat you out — which he was seemingly doing a good job at — as one large and calloused hand subconsciously comes down to jerk himself off slowly, thumb swiping over his bright red, leaky tip, and he hisses out a quiet fuck while your back arches off the bed.

shouto, however, doesn’t answer, in favor of bringing a heated finger down to your slick entrance — gently prodding at it before slipping it in with ease.

“mmmffgh,” you whine as he curls it up slowly, all while sucking on your throbbing clit, and it doesn’t take long for a knot to build up in your lower stomach. “nngh– sh–shouto!”

he simply ignores you as he begins to slip a second finger in—gradually heating them up as he did—and you moan pathetically as your husband watches on in awe, his mouth horribly dry and dick achingly hard, and for a moment, he’s scared he might cum to the sight of another man eating his spouse out—so he intentionally slows his pace to something almost painfully slow to make sure he doesn’t prematurely ejaculate, wanti—no, Needing to cum inside you.

starting to scissor you apart now, you clench around shouto’s burning fingers desperately, whining as his freezing right hand comes up to pinch one of your already stiff nipples.

“nngh–!” it’s not long before you’re cumming with a loud cry of shouto’s name while pulling at his soft hair, back arching deeply off the mattress as katsuki lets out a growl at the sight, already seething with envy….. whatever; he takes in a deep breath to calm himself down and slowly starts to increase the pace at which he’s jerking himself off, groaning softly as he does.

todoroki doesn’t relent in his pace, however, messily eating you out throughout the duration of your orgasm, resulting in you cumming a second time not long after.

“nnngh—’s too much, shouto—” you choke out, pulling at his hair while trying to push him away at the same time. “f–fuck!” it had maybe been two minutes, meaning you had to endure for another three. but how exactly were you meant to do that? with the way he was all but making out with your cunt, you turn your attention to katsuki, pathetically mewling for help—just for him to shut you down! reminding you that you agreed to this and that he knows you can take it.

the most your husband had ever made you cum in one night was four times—a record he was gunning to beat tonight.

by the time shouto’s time was up, he had managed to make you cum three times, on his way to working you up to a fourth, before katsuki’s letting go of his dick and burying his thick fingers in todoroki’s hair, yanking him away from your pulsing heat.

“hey—” shouto pants breathlessly, lower face covered in your slick.

“time’s up, icyhot,” your husband rasps out before asking you how many times you’d cum.

“th– three, but— i need a break before we keep goin’,” you tell him, panting heavily with flushed cheeks and teary eyes.

katsuki simply nods in acknowledgement, untangling his fingers from shouto’s hair as all three of you take this moment to catch your breath. then, after a brief three or so minutes of rest, bakugou’s crawling on top of you as shouto watches on this time, cock leaky and painfully hard as he palms himself through his horribly tight boxers while katsuki kisses you.

“love ya, kats,” you’re able to pant out, and shouto feels his heart break a little; he wishes he could be on the receiving end of those words some day... but for now, he shifts so he’s kneeling on the bed, legs tucked neatly under him with his thighs spread wide enough for his heated left hand to sneak past the waistband of his boxers in order to grope himself.

bakugou smiles against your lips at your words rather than returning them, and his tongue slides out to poke its way into your already open mouth, easily licking over the insides of your cheeks and grooves of your teeth.

as he watches the two of you makeout, todoroki begins to reflect on his kiss with katsuki earlier, and he finds himself yearning to hear those three little words from him, too, or to be able to kiss you as well….. maybe when this is all said and done… maybe he can work up the courage to ask to join your relationship..? or maybe he’d leave early in the morning full of shame…. he isn’t quite sure yet.

“mmngh—” you moan softly as one of katsuki’s large and calloused hands trails down your side, moving to cup your puffy cunt, before two thick fingers easily insert themselves into you without much of a warning—fortunately, you were still soaked from your slick and shouto’s spit from where he’d eaten you out so good, so your husband didn’t meet any resistance when scissoring you apart. “k–katsu–!”

“yeah?” he pants as his cock drools uncomfortably. it’s okay. he’d just have to make you cum four times in five minutes, and—the idea that shouto might beat him at a challenge he proposed due to your fatigue from allowing that icyhot cunt to go first suddenly flashes in his mind, and he’s hardened over with a certain resolve he’d allowed to slip in his overwhelmingly horny state of mind.

“i— ah! hnnngh— ‘m still se–sensitive,” you whine out, arching your back off the bed at the stimulation, and it’s all you can do to pull at his hair when you feel the calloused pad of his thumb press against your swollen, oversensitive clit. as the fingers almost knuckle-deep inside you press into your g-spot, you go crosseyed from the combined feeling of being finger-fucked and having your tongue sucked on (when’d he start doing that!?).

katsuki, however, ignores your weak mewls in favor of kissing you so hard your teeth clack together briefly before he’s tilting his head for a better angle and nipping softly at your tongue, causing you to squeak in surprise.

rolling your hips up and grinding down against his hand, desperate for more fiction, shouto watches on in awe and horny amazement, taking notes on how your body reacted to katsuki, hoping he could imitate his actions, or develop them into his own, next time he got the chance.

soon, though, katsuki’s five minutes come to an end, with you only having cum twice by his doing—something that makes his eye twitch as he realizes that meant icyhot would get to fuck your cunt. ….goddammit! he’d gotten too caught up in the feeling of your lips against his to focus fully on fingering you! sure, he was just about to bring you to your third orgasm–but! oh, this so wasn’t fair! if only he’d gone first! then you wouldn’t have been so worn out!

shit. with a sigh, he pulls away from your body as his eye begins twitching and he looks over to shouto—who currently had his hand wrapped around his cock—and lets out a huff.

“there’s no way i’m letting him fuck you,” he grunts out, crossing his muscular arms.

“kats, that’s not— ‘s’not fair,” you chide him, panting heavily and sitting up on your forearms. “you said— said the winner—” your cheeks flush as you remember the words he’d used and you shake your head to clear the thought from your mind. “...could fuck me—you wouldn’t wanna go back on your word, would you?”

shouto’s heart rate increases as you stick up for him, and he feels the extra blood circulating throughout his body go straight to his throbbing dick as his eyes light up with hope—never in a million years would he think he’d get the chance to have sex with you!

“mm, …fine,” katsuki agrees, salty he’d lost at his own competition, but willing to do whatever to make you happy, so… he almost retches a little at the thought and he feels his heart break in his chest ever so slightly, but… if staying true to his word and letting that half n’ half bastard fuck you would make you happy, then…. he guesses he can let it slide…

with that, shouto’s shifting onto his knees a little more in order to slide his boxers down his well-toned thighs so his pretty cock can slap against his lower tummy and he’s quick to grab you by the hips, pulling you towards him before katsuki’s words cause him to pause.

“not so fast, icyhot, if you’re gonna fuck ‘em, then they can at least suck me off while you do,” he growls, moving so that he’s behind you and then manhandling out of shouto’s grasp so that you were facing him. “get on all fours, sweetheart,” he instructs you, and you obey with a nod, presenting shouto with your ass and drooling cunt and he swallows thickly at the sight.

his hands plant themselves on your hips once more and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips—you were glad shouto would at least get a chance to enjoy himself, as you’re sure he probably doesn’t have many good stress relievers, if any at all…

with that in mind, you make sure to arch your back nicely for the man on his knees behind you as you take your husband’s dick in one hand while supporting your weight with the other and press a little kiss to the bright red tip before slowly taking it into your hot mouth.

katsuki hisses out a groan at the feeling of you hollowing your cheeks as you gradually take him down to almost the base, your hand wrapped around what doesn’t currently fit in your mouth, and swallow thickly around him.

“shit—” a hand is quick to bury itself in your hair to guide your pace as shouto’s jaw slackens in the slightest before he gets a grip and starts to align his swollen and leaky tip with your creamy pussy, moaning much louder than he was expecting to at the feeling of your warm, gummy walls wrapped around his virgin cock. suddenly, whatever metaphorical grip he did have immediately slips away from him as his physical grip tightens to an almost painful extent, and you’re sure he’ll leave bruises in the shapes of his fingertips—similar to the way your husband so often does.

“aa–aah! fuck!” todoroki whines as he takes his time bottoming out—biting his tongue as he pushes into you almost agonizingly slow, causing you to moan around your husband’s dick, resulting in him pushing your head down further against him and your pussy to flutter around the poor, overwhelmed shouto.

you nearly gag as his mushroom-headed tip hits the back of your throat, but are able to suppress your reflex to do so well enough to remove your hand from around him while you focus on breathing through your nose as you take him down to the base, until your face is flush against his pelvis, light blond pubes tickling your nostrils slightly.

you try to stay that way for as long as possible, swallowing around him continuously to fight your own gag reflex rather than out of consideration of his pleasure, but it’s only been a few seconds when you’re fighting against his strong palm to come up for air.

after pulling off him with a disgustingly wet pop! and panting heavily, you make the suggestion that the two should kiss again — arguing that if your husband is just gonna offer your pussy to be fucked without asking you, then the least he could do was makeout with the man balls deep inside you.

“what?” katsuki barks out, looking down at you, with your head between his thighs.

“please, ‘tsuki?” you ask nicely, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

shouto wants to join in with your pleading—to ask katsuki for a kiss, too, but he knows better, knows your husband will begrudgingly cave to your demands and that he’ll ultimately receive another kiss.

“tsk… fine—c’mere, icyhot,” he grunts, one hand pushing your head back down onto his dick as the other reaches for shouto. both men lean over you in order to lock lips, and the younger one can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his lips as he gets what he wants.

todoroki’s hips press flush against your ass as he leans over your sweaty, overstimulated body to makeout with your husband. god, you weren’t, like, …a fujoshi or anything, but…. something about the idea of katsuki and shouto going at it in particular had your stomach in knots and cunt clamping down snugly around shouto’s girth.

“jesus—” the half and half man pants at the feeling of your pussy, and he honestly doesn’t know how he’s managed to go this long without it. ….or if he’ll be able to live without yours specifically from here on out…… okay, it’s decided. he’d ask to join your relationship, somehow, when this was all said and done, but for now he isn’t sure whether to focus on his kiss with katsuki or the feeling of his dick throbbing almost painfully inside you.

ultimately, his attention is drawn to the way bakugou nips harshly at his lower lip—enough to draw a small amount of blood—and a moan gets caught in shouto’s throat, coming out as something more akin to a whimper instead; something that certainly makes katsuki’s ears perk up. had todoroki just fuckin’ whimpered from something he had done? for a reason other than getting pussy for the first time in his stupid virgin life? needless to say, it quickly goes to bakugou’s ego as he begins sucking on shouto’s lower lip, tongue swiping over it quickly at first, and then a second time that was considerably slower and more teasing in nature.

poor shouto can feel himself going cross-eyed as he ruts into you sloppily, heavy balls smacking against your clit, and he knows he won’t last long like this at all. he’s kinda bummed he can’t …make love to you the way he would prefer, but right now, he doesn’t find himself picky at all—just grateful to be a part of this entire thing, even if he may not get the chance again in the future. that’s why it was critical for him to be present in the moment, literally drooling from how good he feels, as he uses his quirk on his tongue while swirling it around katsuki’s, the now freezing muscle licking over the insides of his cheeks and grooves of his teeth, sending a chill down your husband’s spine.

the saliva being exchanged between the two begins to dribble out from the corners of their mouths and drip down their chins and onto your arched back. holy shit. you nearly choke on katsuki’s dick at the feeling of their spit rolling down your spine and you moan in both disgust and twisted pleasure.

“nnmgh,” you moan, tongue pressed flat against the underside of his dick as shouto drills into you. now it’s you who finds themselves drooling profusely, your spit running down katsuki’s cock, soaking his balls.

the blond can feel himself throbbing down your throat and he groans from the combined stimulation of you blowing him and shouto’s icy tongue—he’s close and he knows it. …meaning that half and half whore was definitely about to cum, with the way your pussy is surely milking him for all he’s worth.

“shouto,” he grunts out, pulling away just enough to tell him that if he’s gonna cum, then he has to pull out—that katsuki was the only one allowed to cum inside you.

todoroki was more taken aback by the usage of his first name from bakugou of all people, and it’s all he can do to nod and mumble a quiet yeah.

it’s not much longer before both mean reach their climax around the same time—with shouto pulling out to jerk himself off for a few more seconds and he’s cumming all over your back with a loud cry as your husband cums in your mouth, thick cum spilling down your throat, past your tongue, not even giving you a chance to taste him.

after both men catch their breath, katsuki slowly pulls you off of him as he gazes down at you with a particularly soft look in his eye—or maybe it’s satisfaction, you’re too fucked out to really tell.

“y’okay, princess?” your husband rasps out, grinning to himself at your teary eyes, one hand cupping your cheek, and you blindly lean into his warm touch.

“mmhm,” is all you can hum in response, borderline brain dead from how many times you’d cum tonight—clit still throbbing from the earlier stimulation.

“good….” he directs his attention to shouto, but doesn’t ask him anything, instead looking him up and down, eyes lingering on his dick for a moment longer than he’d like to admit. he quickly redirects his gaze to shouto’s heterochromatic one, and the softest, barely there smile tugs at the corners of his lips. it was so small and brief, one might think they were hallucinating had they seen it, but todoroki catches sight of it, and he wants to say something, but finds himself speechless; so instead, he leans in to kiss your husband again, and, very much to his surprise, he doesn’t immediately recoil. given, he doesn’t lean in to meet him either, but he does kiss him back as you shift to the side, panting heavily while you watch the two muscular and domineering men go at it for the nth time tonight, and you can hardly believe your eyes.

one hand slips down in between your legs as they kiss, rubbing gently at your sensitive bundle of nerves while shouto takes the initiative this time, running his now heated tongue over the seam of katsuki’s lips before licking into his mouth, but moans quietly when the usually angry, but now somewhat calm, blond begins sucking on the hot muscle, one hand coming up to almost cradle the back of shouto’s head as he buries in fingers in his two-toned hair, pulling at it roughly.

“y’know icyhot, you’re really not that bad at this,” he tells him, which is the closest to doling out praise he’ll ever get.

shouto, however, takes this to heart as a soft smile pulls at his lips and suddenly he finds himself cupping katsuki’s face and knocking him onto the bed, clumsily clamoring on top of him, and your jaw genuinely drops at the scene in front of you. holy shit.

“yeah?” shouto breathes from on top of katsuki, who was just as shocked as you were, if not moreso. what the fuck? how the fuck? what was he meant to do? he looks over to you for an idea of where to go with this, and his eyes widen when he sees you touching yourself to the sight of them. …alright, he supposes he can get behind this.

looking back over to shouto, he replies: “sure, ..but i’m better,” and easily manages to flip the pair so that he was on top instead.

“nngh–” you moan as softly, your free hand coming to grope one of your tits, pinching and tweaking with your already erect nipples. you don’t know if you can handle another orgasm, but the sight of the pair in front of each other is simply too hot to not jerk to.

shouto, meanwhile, wraps his arms around katsuki’s neck as he pulls him in for a disgustingly sloppy and heated kiss, lips parting by themselves as he cranes his neck upwards. similarly, he moans as well, tongue already seeking out katsuki’s while you fondle yourself and slowly work yourself up to one final orgasm.

nipping at his lower lip the same way he’d done to shouto earlier, katsuki retaliates by pulling away from the kiss to bite at his neck — even going as far as to suck against a few particular spots, leaving hickeys to bloom in the place of his mouth. for a moment, the idea of jerking shouto off crosses his mind, but that would be going too far for bakugou.

you, however, encourage this behavior, telling them to put on a show for you as you try not to cringe at the feeling of shouto’s cum drying on your bare back.

so, it’s shouto who finds himself reaching for katsuki’s dick without a second thought, and he heats up his hand a bit to tease the poor blond (there is nothing poor about that man…), causing him to hiss in a mix of surprise and pleasure.

“shit—you’d think you would ask someone before just grabbing their dick,” he grunts out, making shouto chuckle a bit at his words.

“sorry,” he says simply, thumb running over the leaky slit of his mushroom-headed tip, and he really, really wishes he could suck him off…… christ. maybe… maybe he should ask? you were the one who told them to put on a show after all..!

shouto ultimately decides against it, though, too embarrassed to do so, and instead settles for jerking katsuki off slowly and with intent.

“nngh–” bakugou nearly whimpers—not that he’d ever actually do something like that, obviously—and he pulls at shouto’s hair, dick still sensitive from the way you’d sucked him off so good a few moments prior.

it doesn’t take too long before katsuki finds himself cumming sooner than he’d like to admit, biting down on shouto’s neck in order to cope with the stimulation from his former classmate and fellow pro-hero.

you, too, find yourself cumming rather quickly, back arching off the mattress as shouto slows his pace to a halt, pulling his hand away and licking katsuki’s cum off it while making full eye contact with him—something that, shamefully, turned both you and the blond on.

you two would have to have a very serious discussion after this about how to move on from here, but for now, the two men turn their focus back to you, finally worn out for the night. katsuki easily shifts to lay next to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist as shouto moves to get off the bed and go back to his guest room where he’d lay awake for the rest of the night—until he hears you call out for him softly, inviting him to sleep in your bed for the night; something katsuki doesn’t protest against, too tired to do so—and even if he did, his heart wouldn’t be in it. unfortunately, he very much enjoyed his time with the two of you tonight, and might seriously have to entertain your future request of letting shouto join your relationship.

in the meantime, however, shouto abides and comes to lay on the other side of you, flushed and sweaty body pressing against your back as your chest smushes against katsuki’s significantly warmer one, and you’re quickly lulled to sleep by the sound of his heartbeat and shouto’s steady breathing.

return to KINKTOBER | K. BAKUGOU M.LIST | S. TODOROKI M.LIST

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sugrhigh · 7 months ago

Text

THE BOY IS MINE - ( m.s )

REQUESTED**

summary- after years of friendship, you’ve seen matt date people before, but none of them have been as bad as this new one. you’ve never interfered with any of the girls in the past, but one night she takes it too far and your true feelings come out.

warnings- cursing, unprotected sex (pretend ur on birth control but also wrap it before you tap it), choking, cheating, dom!matt, it’s smut with a plot guys are we surprised (read at ur own fucking discretion PLEASE!)

a/n: thank you @stonermattsgf for the request!! i fucking loved this concept and the song eats down i hope i did u some justice <3 the touch it chris fic will be coming too cuz im fuckin with that song as well (if you weren’t tagged it wouldn’t let me tag you, i’m sorry!!)

@fawnchives @teapartyprincess4two @sturnioloco @mattinside @l9vesick @sturnsblunt @ev3rgreenxtrees @wh0resstuff @matthewsmocktails @cherrypostsposts @bxbynyah7 @seababehh @sturnsfav @mattsluv @sturniolossss @melanch0lybby @sturniolos-blog @lustfulslxt @sturnioloobssesd @ginswife @amypull @vivianalovesmatt @st4niolos @sturnioloobessed @sturnlova @bigbeefybitch @minhyucks @iheart-zegras @vicsguitarr @melonjollyranche @hearts4matty @vickyzloserz @user8000000 @xoxo4chrisss @unfilteredassmf @mattsbiggesthoe @chrisstopherfilmed @st3rniolo @goldengrapejuice @luv2matt @vsangel-starbies @mikaelabutterfield @mattnchrisworld @bluesturniolo333 @wurlibydominicfike @kp07on @hayleyreadsblog

in no universe did you expect to be pining after one of your best friends.

it had always been strictly platonic between you and matt, aside from a little harmless flirting over the years. you loved him and his brothers so much that you never wanted to mess anything up, or complicate things when the dynamic was already perfect.

but as much as you’re close with each of them, you know you’ve always understood matt on a deeper level. you share the same goals, the same fears, even the same taste in music and movies.

he’s always been the first person to check in, the only one who can read your mood like the back of his hand, the guy who cheers you up and lets you cry on his shoulder when things are shitty.

despite these sweet gestures, you’ve both had your fair share of relationships and flings while being best friends. none of them have ever bothered you before, and you’ve always tried to be respectful and kind to whichever girl he picks.

that is, until now.

matt is sitting across from you on the couch in their living room, slight frown etched on his face. his girlfriend, maya, has her legs sprawled across his lap comfortably, arms linked like she’s claiming him.

her eyes are practically locked on you. you don’t blame her; she’s well aware that you’re not her biggest fan.

all she does is complain about all of the things she doesn’t like about matt. last time she hung out with you guys, she was bitching about the fact that he kissed her in public at a party, as if she was worried he was scaring off other guys.

when he buys her flowers, they’re the wrong ones. if he takes her to dinner, she whines about the food. she’ll even criticize his clothes, demanding that they match and he hides the tattoos. to her, he can’t do anything right, even though he’s incredible just the way he is.

so it drives you absolutely insane watching the way she walks all over matt, all over his brothers, even you. it’s been two months of this agony, and you can’t believe it’s even lasted this long.

you spend nearly every day thinking about how much better you could treat him. every time he touches you, no matter how briefly, your skin burns in desire. it’s selfish to want someone who’s taken, and you’re well aware of that.

but you just love matt, you know him. and he deserves better. maybe it’s you, maybe it’s not. but it’s certainly not maya.

“give it to me, fuckhead.” chris’s voice rips you out of your trance, and you snap your head toward the middle of the U-shaped sofa.

he’s currently fighting nick for the remote, who slaps the side of his arm rather hard. chris lets go, only to pull his brother into a headlock seconds later. nick lets out a yelp of surprise, jamming an elbow into his side to get him to stop.

in all the commotion, you decide to grab the remote for yourself, a wide smile settling across your features as you take it into your palm.

they both notice quickly, groaning in protest as you wave it at them tauntingly.

“too slow! now i get to pick, idiots.” you tease.

“c’mon, i just went to war for that thing.” nick complains, kicking your leg half-heartedly, but you just shake your head.

“snooze you lose.”

you scroll through your options, trying to pay no mind to the way maya is whispering to matt for so long she could be reciting the bible. then your eyes land on a title that makes you pause, chuckling a little to yourself.

“oh no way, they have fucking cocaine bear on here?” chris cackles.

nick looks rather amused himself, raising his eyebrows like he’s intrigued. “i mean, i’m game.”

you glance over at matt, who’s already looking at you with a grin on his face. he mentioned the movie to you a little while ago, and how he just had to see how stupid it was eventually.

“why would we waste our time watching this shit? isn’t it supposed to be awful?” maya chimes from beside him, and your gaze narrows in on her.

“it’ll be funny, you know, ‘cause it’s so bad.” you reply, trying to keep your voice light and friendly.

she tilts her head to the side slightly, studying you with disapproving eyes. “yeah, i’m not so sure about trusting your taste. i mean, that god-awful outfit is just one example.”

the air seems to be sucked out of the room as you grip your sweats self-consciously. nobody moves, nobody speaks. you feel the anger flare up in your veins as you look at matt, wondering if he’s going to step in like he should.

but he doesn’t. in fact, he’s avoiding your gaze altogether. so you square your shoulders and turn your focus back to the girl you dislike so much. you’re done with the passive aggressive comments, with all of the bullshit glares and insults.

you’re done letting her bulldoze you. if matt wants to go through that, fine. but he doesn’t have to take everyone down with him by subjecting them to maya’s presence.

“well, you seem to be the only one who has a problem with my taste, so maybe you should just leave.” you say calmly, smiling sarcastically at the end because you can’t help it.

her mouth pops open, and you can hear chris and nick trying to stifle their gasps and chuckles. even the corner of matt’s lips turn up, which makes you wonder.

maya turns to look at her boyfriend, completely astonished. “are you seriously going to let her talk to me like that?”

he seems conflicted as he briefly looks your direction, clearing his throat to buy some time. you tilt an eyebrow, crossing your arms like you’re just waiting for him to pick his side.

she may have asked the question, but now you’re dying to know the answer.

“maya is right. and, uh, i think you should apologize.” matt fumbles with his words, unable to speak to you directly.

you feel the fury work its way up your face, and you force yourself to blink away the burning sensation of frustrated tears. maya looks far too satisfied, and you want to slap the smirk off of her face.

but you know you can’t lay hands on her, so you decide your words will have to be your knives.

“you know what, i am sorry,” you begin, raising your hands in surrender.

they’re both a bit surprised by this change in direction, so after a brief pause, you continue.

“i’m really sorry that you’re dating a stuck up bitch. i’m sorry that she’s constantly taking advantage of your kindness. i’m sorry that she treats you like shit, that she talks down to you like you’re a child, that she’s never satisfied with the things you do. and i’m especially sorry that you continue to let her, because you can do so much better.”

if maya’s eyeballs could pop out of her skull, you would imagine it would be exactly like how she looks right now. matt is also slack jawed beside her, and you can’t be near him any longer.

so you stand up, turning to leave the boy you love so much without another word.

the fresh night air of spring is a relief once you step out the front door, and you try to let it calm you as you hustle toward your car. you can already feel your phone buzzing in your back pocket as you move, presumably nick and chris.

you hope they’re not angry. it’s bad enough knowing that you’ve royally fucked things up with matt, but you couldn’t bare it if all three of them hated you.

you practically toss yourself into the drivers seat, slamming the door closed with a force that shakes the entire vehicle. you’re peeling out of the driveway before you can even reflect on the consequences of your actions, speeding home as if your life depended on it.

your ringtone continues to erupt as you drive along the backroads, but you force yourself to ignore it for the time being.

only once you throw the car into park in your own driveway do you check the messages, scrolling through the numerous notifications. unsurprisingly most of them are from nick and chris like you presumed, wondering if you’re alright and applauding you for finally standing up to the wicked witch of the west.

for a brief moment, their kind words make you feel better.

but then your eyes catch a contact that you actually don’t expect; matt’s. you stare at your device, throat going completely dry. a missed call and two texts.

matt

i’m coming over

don’t bother saying no, im already on my way

that was five minutes ago, which means he’s not too far behind you. you tear out of your car and across the yard, throwing the door open carelessly.

your heart is still slamming against your ribcage, and fear crawls up your throat as you press your back to the wood, kicking your flip flops off in the general direction of the coat rack.

your mind flashes to the idea of him yelling at you, which you suppose would be somewhat warranted. you’ve seen matt angry on a couple of occasions, and you can’t imagine he has anything kind to say to you right now.

you pace the foyer as you wait for his arrival, picking at the beds of your fingernails anxiously.

and then it happens; the loud knock on the front door, followed by another series of harsh slams.

impatient motherfucker.

you straighten up as your palm wraps around the knob, sucking in a breath before pulling it open to reveal a rather disheveled matt.

he’s breathing heavy, hair messy as if he’s been tugging at it for the entire drive. his earrings glint in the porch light as he stares at you like he’s trying to commit every feature to memory, wetting his lips hungrily.

“matt—”

you barely get his name out before he wraps his ring-clad fingers around your throat, pulling your mouth to his harshly. he molds against you perfectly, his other hand traveling to your hip to hold you flush against his own body.

he just couldn’t help it. he was so desperate on the entire ride over, replaying your outburst on a loop in his mind as he drove further and further away from his girlfriend. there’s been only a few occasions he’s seen you that upset, and your comments had been a necessary slap in the face.

plus, watching you fight for him when he was too much of a bitch to do it himself was a bigger turn-on than he’d like to admit.

all he’s ever wanted is you. and it shouldn’t have taken this long to admit it to himself.

matt guides you backwards, hand still squeezing your neck as he blindly kicks the door shut with one foot. you feel your back bump against the kitchen counter, and you’re trying to register what the hell is going on, but his kiss is so fucking intoxicating that it’s impossible to think clearly.

his tongue slides against yours passionately, and the flavored chapstick you’re wearing is driving him insane. you can feel him growing hard against your thigh as he toys with the elastic waistband of your pants suggestively.

you have no idea if this means it’s officially over with him and maya, but you find that you quite frankly don’t give a shit.

in this moment, he’s yours.

his fingers finally dip into your sweats a few seconds later, traveling down to brush against your clothed heat as he moves his mouth to your jaw sloppily. a breathy moan escapes before you can stop it, involuntarily rutting your hips against his cold rings in search of more friction.

one of your hands goes to grip the hair at the nape of his neck while the other claws at his back, desperately wrapping your knuckle around the cloth of his muscle tee.

“you like that?” matt grumbles against your throat, nipping at the skin as he begins to apply real pressure to your cunt in little circular motions.

your back arches and you tilt your head to the side so you can give him full access, silently hoping he’ll leave a mark behind.

“you’ve been thinking about me touching you like this, haven’t you? wishing i would come fuck you instead of her?” he questions further, moving his head slightly so he’s speaking directly into your ear.

the hand that was choking you slides down so he can grope your chest, his thumb running over one of your hardened nipples through the thin shirt you’re wearing. the combined pleasure has you whining in his grasp, a submissive sound that you wish you weren’t making.

you can feel him grinning as he presses his mouth to that sweet spot below your earlobe, his tongue darting out to wet the area.

“you want me just as much.” you manage to find your voice, though your claim is muttered with no conviction.

matt pauses his movements and brings both hands to your waistband again, which makes you whimper as you clench around nothing. his mouth finds yours briefly to swallow the sound, and he bites down on your bottom lip as he pulls away.

“you’re not wrong. so are you gonna give me what i want, baby?” he asks as he teases your sweats and panties just a little lower on your hips.

“keep going.” you plead.

you let go of your grip on his body so he can tug both items down to your ankles, helping you step out of their grasp before discarding them a couple feet away.

matt doesn’t immediately stand back up; instead he takes his time, kissing the side of your knees as his hands slide up the outside of your thighs. you feel so exposed, so on-display that you clench your legs together before you can help it.

he immediately pries them apart, shaking his head slightly with a little smirk. “don’t be shy now, you had so much to say earlier.”

his words spur you on, so you spread yourself wider, opting to grip the counter as he reattaches his lips to your inner thighs. matt inches closer and closer to where you really need him, taking his time to nip at the supple flesh that comes before.

he pulls away right when you think he’s finally about to put his mouth on you, letting his hot breath fan across your soaked center. it makes you shiver in anticipation, and you’re getting a little too needy now.

“quit fucking teas—oh shit.”

you throw your head back as his two fingers spread you apart, tongue coming in contact with the middle of your cunt as he laps at the wetness that had pooled there.

he slows his pace slightly after a moment, making sure to pay attention to the whole area, working his way up until his nose bumps against your clit. you spit a curse out, letting one hand go so you can grip his soft hair.

matt continues on, his lips closing around the sensitive bud so he can apply more pressure and suction. your gut flips at the sensation and your grip on his roots tightens as his mouth works.

he grumbles, loving the way you’re pulling at him so desperately. the noise sends vibrations through your core, which only makes the experience more enjoyable.

“fuckkk, matt, feels so good.” you praise dumbly, your words slurring.

the vocal admiration makes his pulse quicken, and at this point he’s straining against his jeans. he just can’t believe he’s got you like this, grinding your cunt against his face as if he’s the best you’ve ever had.

he can tell you’re growing closer just based on the little gasps and moans leaving your mouth, and your legs begin to shake ever so slightly. but he won’t let you finish just yet.

“want to be inside this pretty pussy.” he pulls away to say it, pressing one more wet kiss to the delicate area before he gets up.

you’re craving more, so you decide to take initiative, reaching for his belt and fumbling to undo the buckle. you tear it from the loops and toss it away, moving to his zipper as he reaches behind his head to tug his loose tank off.

his pants fall to the floor, leaving him in only his tented boxers. he’s quick to kick his shoes off, followed by his jeans right after.

then his hands go to your waist, fingers digging into the smooth flesh.

“up.” he instructs bluntly, helping lift you onto the end of the marbled countertop so he’s standing between your legs.

he lifts your shirt up next, and you help him out by throwing your arms above your head so he can fully remove it. his eyes train downwards, admiring the way your sheer bra hugs your tits. it hardly leaves anything to the imagination, and matt finds it extremely hot that you’ve been wearing it all night without him knowing.

before he can make a move, you surprise him by reaching back confidently to unhook the garment yourself. you let it slip from your shoulders before throwing it to your side, revealing your bare chest to him wordlessly.

he pulls his lip between his teeth as he exhales, gently guiding you downwards so your back is pressed flat against the cool surface. matt looks intimidating standing over you, his dark eyes drinking in every inch of your body.

“you’re so fucking sexy.” he says in awe, leaning down to give you another real kiss, a salty mix of sweat and arousal on his lips.

then he finds his way down to your collarbone, staying there shortly before traveling between the valley of your breasts. without warning, he presses his tongue flat across one nipple, flicking it back and forth.

you push your chest further into his face with a moan, both hands in his hair this time. he moves to the other perky bud, sucking on it as his teeth graze the tissue ever so slightly.

you’re practically writhing underneath him, and you can feel the pit growing in your stomach again. so even though it feels incredible, you yank his head back off of your chest by his hair.

“need you to fuck me.” you mutter, pushing his hair out of his face with both of your hands.

matt nods once, straightening so he can slide his underwear down. his erection finally springs free, pink tip glistening with precum. you watch as he spreads the wetness around, pumping himself in his hand a few times.

he’s bigger than you expected, and your mouth is watering just thinking about how much you want him to be pounding into you already.

“wrap your legs around me princess.” he commands gruffly, and you do just as you’re told, hooking your ankles behind his back.

his dick presses against your heat, and you buck against it to try and feel more. matt is quick to steady your hips roughly, holding you down against the edge of the counter as he teases himself into your entrance.

you both moan, his low and rumbling, yours high-pitched and greedy. you use your thighs to pull him closer, forcing him to drive into you fully so you can feel that pleasurable stretch.

“mmmn—fuck, you’re so tight.” he sighs, giving you another moment before he begins to drag his cock in and out at a steady pace.

you rock with him as best you can, finding the perfect rhythm so that he’s plowing his full length into you, filling the house with the sound of skin slapping skin.

matt lets one hand wrap around your neck again to choke you, tattoos on display as his muscles flex, and the pressure traps your lewd cries in your throat. his other fingers continue to toy with your nipples, which makes you arch off the counter, head rolled back as your eyes screw shut.

“look at you, taking me like such a good girl. just like i knew you would.” he compliments breathlessly.

he starts snapping his hips harder, enjoying the way your tits bounce as you slide slightly against the slick counter. you look so fucking beautiful, mouth partially open, barely able to squeak out a moan.

never in a million years did matt think he’d get the opportunity to fulfill all of his shamefully dirty fantasies about you, but here you are, completely naked and spread out in your own kitchen.

you’re squeezing around him now with every stroke, and he somehow keeps getting deeper, hitting your g-spot in a way that makes you jerk.

the familiar feeling of your abs tightening occurs as you get closer to your orgasm, and you swear you’re seeing stars at this point. he’s right there with you, a groaning mess as your fingers reach up to dig into his bicep.

“yes, matt, right there! m’gonna—” you fumble over your words, unable to finish the thought as the satisfaction builds.

he uses the last of his strength to drill into you, moving both hands back to your waist quickly so he can slam you down on his cock a few more times.

“come all over this dick baby, don’t hold back.”

you’re practically screaming his name as you hit your high, releasing all over him as his hot cum spills into you at the same time.

he slows his movements as you look up at him with bleary eyes, enjoying the last moments of being inside you before he pulls out. you feel your mixed arousal dripping out onto the counter, and you don’t even care that you’ll have to clean it up later.

that was completely worth the mess.

your chest continues to heave as you relish in the come down, dropping your thighs from his hips so he’s free to move around.

but matt stays between them, leaning down to capture your mouth with his one final time. it’s brief, but it means more than either of you truly understand.

he’s the one to break it first, pressing his forehead against yours before he speaks. “you’re incredible, you know that?”

you smile weakly, pushing against his chest to put some distance between the two of you. reality is creeping back in, reminding you that this was probably a one time thing.

“help me down?” you ask, and he complies.

matt lifts you a bit as you slide off the countertop, setting you back on real ground a second later. you’re not sure what to say as you stand before him, completely fucked out and terrified of whatever is coming next.

“so, um…i should probably get cleaned up.” you try to sound casual, even though you’re feeling anything but relaxed.

he immediately notices the switch in tone, the way you’re wrapping your arms around yourself like you’re trying to shrink away and hide. he’s also pretty sure he knows where this insecurity is coming from.

his fingers go to grip your chin gently, demanding that you look him in the face. your eyes widen as he brushes his thumb along your swollen bottom lip.

“i’m cutting things off with maya. i just…love you. and i’m sorry it took me so long.” matt finally admits.

it takes a second to click in your brain, but when it does a wide grin spreads across your face. butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you kiss the pad of his finger as he moves it along your mouth.

“i love you too, but i think you knew that already.” you tease playfully.

“yeah, maybe. but i like hearing you say it out loud.”

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #Spotify #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #fanfic

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hotjaneaustenmenpoll · 8 months ago

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WHO IS THE HOTTEST JANE AUSTEN MAN ? THE FINAL

Propaganda...

Captain Wentworth (1995):

Ciaran Hinds has that perfect ruggedness yet friendliness to his face that makes him the perfect charming Wentworth. And all of the longing that he manages to convey in his eyes is so hot.

Wentworth may be angry/resentful with Anne but in general he is charming and the best friend you could ever have. Ciaran gets the pleasant parts of his character and brings them out, while keeping a guarded coolness (protective camouflage) with Anne.

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I dunno if this counts as propaganda or not, but Ciaran Hinds has a face that looks like it was jackhammered out of a shale cliff.

If a line like 'I am half agony...half hope' comes out of a face like that you know that man has a soul for poetry.

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in

F. W.

I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never.

This is propaganda for the next round because I need my boy to be a finalist! But this letter is all the persuasion I need to know that he is a winner

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Ciarán Hinds in this is a whole other level of "a good man" He makes Anne's decision at the end so much more perfect.

LOOK

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HOW

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YEARNS

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The yearning the yearning - JLM gives a great look but Captain Wentworth is the king of longing stares. He's trying sooo hard to hate her sooo hard to get over her - 8 years and he thinks he's ready to face her and move on but no he has to notice she's exhausted on the walk, that her nephew is being overwhelming, that she should be dancing and not just playing the piano for everyone else. And even though he's jealous later on when Mr Elliott gives her an "admiring look" in lime he's pleased for her because he knows she deserves to be admired and cherished even if he's angry that he wasn't able to be the one she let admire and cherish her. I just this man - he loves Anne so much and it's so so hot.

Propaganda for Captain Wentworth.

I've always loved Persuasion and so I was voting for him in his polls anyway, but I had never seen the 1995 adaptation. So because of this blog I decided to check it out.

Well. Now I'm obsessed. I came into this tournament fully expecting to vote Firth Darcy to victory. Ciaran Hinds suddenly showed up and sparta kicked him to curb. His every look, every gesture is laden with longing. He's so tender with Anne but then the barely restrained rage in his voice when he speaks to Lady Russell. He's rugged and manly yet tender and considerate.

I BURN, I PINE, I PERISH

If you're wondering why you should vote for Wentworth 95 in the @hotjaneaustenmenpoll, it's because he's got something hot for everyone.

Do you think it's hot when a man dresses up fancy? He looks very dapper in his uniform! Or do you find it more sexy when a man is more casual, a little mussed up, maybe even a little grimy? He does that perfectly too!

Do you find men hot when they're being tender and restrained? Or do you find men hot when they're losing control a bit, maybe getting a bit passionate with anger or jealousy?

Do you like a refined man of culture? Or a rugged outdoorsman?

A warm smile? Or something more broody?

Someone who's the life of the party, boisterous, laughing, charming? Or the strong silent type, serious, calm, mysterious?

Hinds's Wentworth does all of these sexy things brilliantly! You cannot lose with him, he's got it all!

II ranked Wentworth as the #1 Austen man in terms of fuckability, and I stand behind that when it comes to Wentworth 95 versus Knightley 09.

Is Wentworth 95 angry sometimes? Yeah. But that's hot, at least coming from Ciaran Hinds' ruggedly handsome face. Have you heard of makeup sex? Tell me Wentworth 95 and Anne don't have the most scorching hot angry makeup sex imaginable 🥵

And yet Wentworth 95 is also super tender! The slow, gentle, worshipful way he kisses Anne at the end?? So beautiful and hot. The longing way he looks at Anne in silence. The way he is so solicitous of Anne's comfort to put her on the carriage with his sister! You can just tell he's gonna take the time to worship his wife in bed.

And let's not forget that he writes the most romantic letter ever written! The depth of passion in this man, my god! 🔥💕🔥

This is not a who is the better man contest, or who is the more faithful to the book, or who would you most want to marry. This is a hotness contest, and Wentworth 95 is so fucking hot.

Mr Darcy (1995):

Colin Firth (1995) is book Darcy brought to life. He uses tiny gestures and looks to communicate with us and Elizabeth… his struggle is so subtle but so palpable. A beautiful asshole with a creamy nougat center. Just perfect.

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Those heart-eyes right up above☝️? Hot!

Passive-agressively drinking tea? Hot!

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The way he rushes over to see Elizabeth at Pemberley on those delicious long legs of his with that slutty wet curl hanging over his forehead? Hot!

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Fencing? Hot!

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The way he is so concerned about Elizabeth crying and takes her hand even though he shouldn't? Hot!

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This dimple-y smile of pure joy because he knows he's married to Elizabeth freaking Bennet? Hot!

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Colin Firth Darcy is simultaneously immaculately put together and entirely falling apart internally. The wet shirt scene is so iconic not (only) because ‘oooh almost-shirtless sexy man’, but because it’s a metaphor for how he’s absolutely falling apart!!! This is a private moment, when he doesn’t think anyone can see him. And then he bumps. into. Lizzie. At his house!! And the entire sequence that follows with him rushing out still doing his jacket up to catch her before he leaves. They are both on the back foot and it’s THAT moment of confusion that opens a more honest dialogue between them.

Without Firth in a lake you wouldn’t get Macfadyen in a downpour!

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There's a reason why Colin Firth is forever known as Mr. Darcy above all other roles he's had and will have! Even ignoring the wet white shirt, which has become A Thing now, he is so hot with his curly hair and his little half smiles and his intense looks of longing and his legs that go on for milessss.

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This cannot be real. My fellow Jane Austen people. Without Colin Firth’s Darcy we wouldn’t have 90% of modern JA content. He opened a door and there was no turning back for modern culture. There would be no MacFadyen standing half undressed in a field at dawn without Firth jumping into a lake first. There would be no hand flex if there hadn’t been Firth doing his best impression of a man undressing Elizabeth Bennet with his eyes and hating himself for liking it. There would be no Bridgerton without Bridget Jones. Let’s face it people. We wouldn’t be here having these arguments if Colin Firth had not been Mr Darcy.

Colin Firth understood Mr. Darcy in a way no other actor ever has. He is awkward as fuck in a way that comes across as snooty and judgmental on a first watch-through, then can be read as awkward and longing on a second time. His performance had such depth while looking extremely shallow at first glance. This man WAS Mr. Darcy. (I love 2005, as well, and I love Matthew McFayden, but he was awkward for awkward sake.) Colin Firth made Darcy's awkward look snooty and aloof.

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THE socially awkward Darcy is the 1995 Darcy - look at him coming and sitting in awkward silence with Elizabeth pointedly asking her if she wants to live a long way from her family (to obvious relief) and then abruptly leaving - vote for him please 😭😭😭😭

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Colin Firth served so much as Darcy that when they did Bridget Jone's diary, they brought him back.... AS DARCY. The smoulder. The angst. The man is the quintessential Darcy.

“Firthing” is an actual term that is used now to describe someone yearning intensely. It is named after Colin Firth’s Mr Darcy performance.

Colin Firth all the way. He's known in our household as Owl Eyes because in every frame he's mooning over Elizabeth Bennet. Unsurpassable, unmatched, golden television (and some of the worst dancing you've ever seen).

Colin has beautiful, touchable curls.

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My high school English teacher was very into using movies to teach alongside literature, which was a great teaching tool. When we read Pride and Prejudice, he used both 2005 and 1995 for various scenes. What stands out to me all these years later was when it got to the part when Lizzy went to help Georgiana after Caroline dropped Mr. Wickham's name and Darcy gives Lizzy this look:

My teacher stopped the film and pointed at Darcy's face and said, "See that? That is THE look. If someone ever looks at you like that, you know they're in love." And what is hotter than that?

Also this teacher had two cats named Lizzy and Darcy. Not relevant to the poll but I wanted you all to know about them.

Colin Firth dazzles and amazes in the nuanced performance that just blows all other attempts away.

The best thing about the Colin Firth wet shirt scene is actually the scene that follows where him and Lizzie are both just dyinggg of embarrassment but Darcy pulls himself together refuses to lose his advantage and runs to get dressed and chase her down before she leaves - just the mix of cringe and hopefulness at seeing her again is so well done and so attractive!!! (this is just the bit where he's running after her but I love it all!)

#hotjaneaustenmenpoll #the final #take two (SORRY)#captain wentworth #mr darcy #persuasion 1995 #pride and prejudice 1995 #ciaran hinds #colin firth #persuasion #pride and prejudice #jane austen #frederick wentworth #fitzwilliam darcy #Youtube

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scarletcomalies · 4 months ago

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soul bounds intertwined

Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader

Part I, Part II

Word count: 5,864

Warnings: Ghosting, public confrontation and fighting, Billy being an idiot. 18+ content, degrading, pet names, magic strap that Wanda can feel as if it's real, blowjob (W. receiving), oral (R. Receiving), strap-on usage (R. receiving), taking Polaroid pictures while doing it, slapping, overstimulation, fingering, squirting aftercare.

Taglist: @alexawynters @ageofolsen @imjustvibingsworld @huggingkoalas @unadulteratedballoonduck @megsheather @kimiisims-blog @morganismspam23 @reginassweetheart @vyvvycg @cindyangelicss @newyork1432 @imaginaryblogger01 @sleepless-cloudy @starryskiesandboys

A/N: This is it. I cannot begin to express how unbelievably happy it makes me to see all the love you gave to this trilogy 🥹 I also had a good laugh as I read the frustrated reblogs on part II MWAHAHA!!! Hope you like this last one part. Thank you 3000 once again. 💓

Following the incidents at the Maximoff residence, you thought that Wanda had completely cut you out of her life. However, a few months later, she reached out to you, pulling you into a situation that would lead to unforeseen twists and turns.

You couldn't recall the last time you ran as if your life depended on it.

Your best guess was when you accidentally set the treadmill to 24 kilometers per hour, and while you were figuring out where the button to slow down was, you had to keep that pace so as not to fall.

However, the adrenaline that coursed through your veins the instant Wanda laid her hands and lips on you for the first time, followed by her command for you to leave, was so inmense that it was no wonder your body mistook it for danger, screaming for you to escape immediately.

And you obeyed, running to your car as if Wanda was chasing you with a knife, determined to snatch your destiny and your future in a matter of seconds, when in reality, she remained static. She didn't move an inch from where she left you, but her gaze haunted you all the way home.

You could still feel it piercing right at the back of your mind, causing this sensation to send unconscious impulses to your body, such as occasionally checking the backseat through the rearview mirror, when you knew there was no one but you in the car.

You scarcely noticed when you arrived at your apartment or when you collapsed onto your bed. Your mind was too tangled in a whirlwind of confusion and shock to be mindful of your own actions.

What did this mean for you and Wanda? Was there any way to turn back from this? Questions raced through your mind, but one fact stood amongst all of those uncertainties: things would never be the same again.

Three long months where your mind pirouetted through endless what-ifs.

What if you had turned down Billy's advances from the start? What if you had been more discreet about taking those photographs? What if you had never blurted out the confession Wanda had forced from you? What if you had stayed, on your knees, begging for her forgiveness, instead of running away as though your feelings were a crime?

Despite your mind's endless wanderings, your thoughts unavoidably drifted back to the same place; her lips on yours, like a forbidden fruit that was worth all of your sinning.

Oh, how intoxicatingly wet they felt, how expertly her tongue and hands managed to cast a spell of desire that tormented your very existense, driving you to a fervor that dangerously danced on the edge of madness.

And so you made Herculean efforts with words, devoting at least two hours each week to finding new ways to let Wanda know that you never intended for this situation to escalate like it did, yet none succeeded reaching to her distant heart.

It was painfully clear that just one response from her could end this torment, yet she played a cruel game of a calculated and well-deserved revenge.

She didn't block you. That would have been a closure, a clear statement she wanted nothing more to do with you. Instead, she left you on read immediately, ensuring there was no doubt she was ignoring you. She left you hanging on a thread of false hope, teasing you with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it'll be different next time.

Her behavior was akin to that of a prepotent God, relishing in the power to decide whether to answer the prayers of her humble believers or subject them to the agony of her indifference.

It took you long enough to realize you wouldn't have any of it anymore. You dared to test the predictability of her cruel game, refusing to give her power over you any longer.

Fortunately for you, in the third month since you last saw her —from which a month and a half you spent without writing to her— you received a call from her.

You let it go to voicemail twice, so as not to seem too eager to hear from her, and finally called her back the next day.

"Oh, so fast you were answering my calls before, and now you want to play hard?" Was the first thing she said to you.

You rolled your eyes.

How dare she protest for it when she had you drifting and yearning for so long?

"What do you need?" You asked in as neutral a tone as possible. You weren't going to answer in annoyance, or it would mean you were still affected by this whole situation.

"You're going to show up at the meeting Tony Stark organized, at the Avengers Compound, remember it was a pending thing?" It wasn't a request, it was an order. "This time, I'm bringing the boys, and you're going to tell Billy everything. Everything, (Y/N)."

You scoffed, both indignant and surprised. The latter due to the fact that Wanda might not have told Billy about what had happened.

"You never told him yourself?" You inquired, curiosity getting the better of you.

"I don't have the heart to tell him," she replied. "But I suppose you do, since you had the heart to do what you did."

You were going to justify yourself immediately, but stopped midtracks. You weren't going to sound like a broken record, repeating the same old story to her again.

"And if I refuse?" You challenged her.

"I can ruin things for you beyond repair," Wanda responded confidently. "Your career, your reputation, you name it. Don't underestimate what I'm capable of when pushed."

Her words cut through any defiance you might have felt, leaving you defeated and humiliated, just like that night.

Maybe it was abuse of power, but you brought this upon yourself, and she just wanted to make sure you paid for hurting someone she loved. You would have done the same, and you adored her even more for that.

At your silence, she added, "And bring all the photographs you took of me. I don't want to give you the pleasure of having a single trace of me after this."

And that's how you ended up at the Avengers Compound, Upstate New York.

If your nerves weren't consuming your stomach like a potent acid burner, you would have appreciated much more the fresh air outside the building, and how silence finally prevailed in your surroundings, the hectic sounds of the crowded city now long gone.

"Ready?" Kate asked, looking at you with a sheepish, concerned look once she pulled the handbrake.

"Yeah," you replied amidst a deep breath that you didn’t even know for how long you’ve been holding.

While you both stepped out of Kate’s car, the weight of your hand purse almost pulled you back into the seat, knowing that two things in there held the delicate fate of your relationship with Wanda and of your career.

It contained your lipstick, your phone, and all the photographs, along with a letter that would be a last attempt to clear things up.

At the front door, a female voice through a screen asked for your name and Kate's, and once it was given, she replied: "You're on the list. Welcome, (Y/N) and Kate."

You held your hand purse tightly, as you walked to the elevator and Kate pressed the floor's button. The only audible sound on the way upstairs was the click of your heel anxiously tapping against the floor, and your heavy breathing.

"Easy, you find Billy, tell him, 'Hey, I liked your mom all this time, you just were delusional,' give the pictures and letter to Wanda, take my car, and get out," Kate tried to cheer you up, making it sound as simple as she was telling it, when to you, it was a life-or-death feat.

You laughed more out of commitment than anything else.

There was no point in contradicting her words if the elevator opened within two seconds of her finishing her sentence.

You spotted Wanda almost immediately.

She was standing near the entrance, her posture rigid, and her eyes immediately fixed on you with an intensity that could burn a hole right through you and all the walls of the building together. The way she looked at you so quickly revealed that she was watching the elevator every time it opened, waiting for you.

Kate patted you on the back, and headed off to where Yelena would be.

Lucky her, she would spend the night with her girlfriend, while you were anticipating to drown in your own tears before falling asleep, knowing that you had ruined any chance with the first person who had set a warming fire in your heart, now a conflagration of despair and yearning.

With every step you took her way, your legs felt like they might give out beneath you, but you forced yourself to keep moving, closing the distance between you and Wanda.

"Wanda", you greeted her and nodded in acknowledgement of the person she was talking to. You recognized him immediately from the old pictures rummaging online of Wanda and her ex-partner. Despite his imposing figure, he was just a blurry silhouette that you didn't bother to focus on until you had him in front of you. "Nice to meet you, I'm (Y/N).”

"Ah, (Y/N)," he exclaimed with a smile. "I'm Vision, Tommy and Billy's father. I'm pleased you could make it. The boys are over there at the middle table."

"That's a good idea," Wanda said. "Why don't you go with Billy? I'm sure you have a lot to discuss."

You tried to resist rolling your eyes at her sarcastic statement.

"I would prefer to speak with you first," you replied, failing to maintain eye contact with her, still appearing like a nervous lamb.

"I will consider it, after you do what I asked," she replied, turning her attention back to Vision as a way to cut conversation. The latter appeared perplexed, but perhaps Wanda would prefer to avoid the situation or lie about it, which you thanked.

Your steps towards Billy's table felt lighter, which indicated that you were far more concerned about exchanging a simple greeting with Wanda than you were about confessing to Billy that your feelings were for his mother and not him. Once again, it was evident that you cared about her more than you ever did for Billy.

"(Y/N)! Hey!" Billy greeted you with a smile, moving quickly to embrace you. "Oh, I missed you so much. What happened? My mom said you and her had an argument, but never specified why, and always gets pissed off when I ask her."

You reciprocated the embrace, unconsciously offering an apology in advance for what were going to be your next words.

"Hi," you replied, giving him a light touch on the back. “Uhm, that’s true, actually, that’s why I’m—"

"Hi, you," Tommy approached you before you could reply, and offered you a less invasive hug than his brother’s. "You know? I recently saw the infamous Kate Bishop,” he chuckled.

You joined him in laughter, appreciating his presence as a source of comfort. This brief conversation felt like a stop to the train of thought that was threatening to run over you.

"If you would like, I can arrange an introduction," you offered him, shrugging briefly. "Not with that intention, of course, but you would gain a friend. A great one."

"I'm game for new friends, always," he agreed, taking a sip of his beverage. You proceeded to walk with Tommy following you, and you noticed that Billy was completely ignored by both of you, being left behind sitting at the table by himself.

What if, during the lively twenty-minute conversation between you, Tommy, Kate, and Yelena, you had taken just half a minute to ask him to join? Everything would have been different.

"Excuse me," your smile faded and your voice trembled when your gaze fell on Billy. He had the letter in his hands and all the photographs scattered all over the table.

You had left your hand purse on there, and it was inevitable that Billy would be so curious to look through it.

A lump formed in your throat as you watched helplessly as he examined the contents of the letter with increasing astonishment.

Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest when you realized that he had discovered your deepest secret, and you no longer had a chance to find a way to reveal it in the less hurtful way that could ever occur to you. That possibility slipped like sand through your fingers.

You rushed towards the table. Every step you took felt like torture. As if you were running a ten-kilometer marathon instead of crossing a few metres.

“Billy…” you breathed, a whisper so barely audible that you hoped it would vanish in the air before the inevitable storm swept through.

His fingers trembled on the vertical edges of the piece of paper, now mostly crumbled by the force with which he held it.

Billy Maximoff had always lived in the shadow of his mother’s fame and his twin brother's effortless charm. In that dim corner, he was often overlooked.

Therefore, when he saw your letter, where you expressed regret for using Billy to reach his mother, but admitted you felt no remorse for how her lips had kissed yours with such fervor that night after the bonfire, it struck him like a frigid, merciless wave crashing over him, leaving him breathless and reeling.

A guttural, angry growl erupted from his throat, resonating with such intensity that it caught the attention of everyone present, including Wanda.

Subsequently, he threw the photographs all over the floor, scattering them like autumn leaves blown by a tempest.

His eyes, once filled with affection, now burned with betrayal as they landed on you. However, what caused an icy tendril of fear to coil around your stomach was those sacred photographs, completely exposed for others to see.

You took a step to retrieve the photographs, but a firm hand clasped around your arm, making you gasp in protest, but overall, disbelief. His grip was a desperate, silent warning for you to confront the shattered trust before you, instead of safeguarding your own dignity.

"How could you do this to me?" He questioned. He breathed heavily, each choppy exhale escaping through trembling lips. His brows furrowed in anguish, adorned the torment in his glassy eyes.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. All you could do was stand there, frozen, as now Billy's eyes were just one of the many pairs that fixated on you.

"Answer me!" Billy’s voice echoed through the room.

"I'm so sorry, Billy," you whispered, but the words felt shallow and inadequate.

Wanda's eyes bore into you from across the room, her expression unreadable, yet you knew she was waiting for the fallout.

Billy shook his head, as he laughed sarcastically.

“’Sorry’? Really?” His voice climbed in pitch, raw with fury. “You used me. You lied to me. And for what? To get close to my mom? MY MOM! HOW FUCKING SICK IS THAT?”

You turned around, your gaze sweeping over the room, and the collective shock on everyone’s faces nearly made you crumble right there.

But before you could fully grasp the gravity of their reactions, Billy grabbed your face with a tight grip, and pulled you closer, forcing you to look back at him, demanding your full attention.

“Look at me,” he rasped, his voice breaking with pain. “This is about the pain you caused me, not them.”

Kate, who had been watching every moment with a readiness to intervene and protect you if necessary, rushed to you both in alarm as soon as Billy’s hands gripped your face so violently.

With a sudden, forceful motion, she wrenched Billy’s hands away from you.

“You're fucking done, you hear me, asshole?” Kate hissed, towering over him as she created a protective barrier between you and Billy.

The latter whimpered in pain, a sound that spurred Wanda into action, her own distress evident as she rushed forward.

“That's enough!” Wanda exclaimed, a red wisp of magic surrounding Kate's hand and Billy's wrist in order to prevent her to cause him more pain. In consequence, Kate clenched her jaw in defeat, for she knew better than to defy someone as powerful as Wanda Maximoff.

You didn’t even notice when Natasha Romanoff appeared at your side, wrapping her arm around you with a firm, yet gentle hold.

“You’ve explained yourself,” the redhead said softly, her voice felt like the calm amidst the storm. “Let him handle the truth on his own. Let’s go…”

You were about to comply, the pull of Natasha's presence giving you the courage to leave everything behind for good.

But Billy’s last, scathing remark stopped you in your tracks.

“Oh, great! So now Mommy’s going to fix everything for me?” He snapped. “Isn’t that just perfect? Always stepping in to save the day while I get to deal with the mess you made!”

Her eyes widened in a heart-shattering mixture of confusion and sorrow. Her features altogether conformed what could be best described as the ultimate portrait of devastation.

No wonder. The sole purpose of forcing you to confess your mistakes to Billy was so you could face the consequences, and leavr you with a heavy conscience, never once imagining that she would be cast as a villain in her own son’s eyes.

And even though Wanda blatantly defended her son against your best friend —who was, in turn, protecting you from Billy’s wrath—, you couldn’t fight against the sympathy at such a heartache.

"Billy, I consider you a very dear friend, and I never meant to hurt you," you spoke up, stepping next to Wanda, implicitly offering her your inconditional support. “But my feelings for Wanda... they were never meant to deceive or harm you. I understand if you can't forgive me, but please know that it’s not her fault.”

"I think it's best if we all take a moment to breathe," Vision interjected calmly, stepping forward. "Emotions are high right now, and we need clarity to understand each other." His calm voice stood out against the atmosphere around you.

You knew that he and Wanda had drifted apart due to the demands of their lives; his Avenger missions and her career had led them in different directions. Their breakup was friendly, a mutual recognition that their paths no longer matched. Still, it was impressive how Vision maintained his composure, given the situation's nature.

Wanda nodded in agreement.

"Billy, let's talk privately. This isn't something we should handle in front of everyone."

“Oh, yes, that’s because you don’t want your superhero friends to know how you kissed (Y/N) right after I went to sleep that night, isn't that right?” He scoffed.

Although you didn't turn to check everyone's reaction, you could perfectly picture the shock once more evident on their faces, now at the possibility that maybe Wanda felt the same.

But unlike last time, where everyone decided to remain silent and play dumb, Tony spoke up from the table, “So what, kid? Good for them, now move the fuck on,” he groaned, his voice dripping with irritation that his friendly reunion had turned into a whole drama show.

“I did it to force her to confess,” Wanda justified. “And to punish her for hurting you.”

Billy’s gaze was skeptical, as he raised his eyebrow in disbelief. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t feel anything when you did that.”

Wanda’s resolve fell apart at that very question. Her eyes flickered away from his intense stare, enough to confirm what Billy had feared all along.

You were overpowered by a bliss so intense it seemed to permeate every fiber of your being, immediately making you forget the pain and despair that took place these last months.

“See?” Billy’s voice rose. “I wanted a chance to be happy, to be seen for once, and you took that away from me," he choked out, his voice breaking.

“Oh, Billy, I can’t take away what you didn’t have in the first place,” she scoffed. Her sadness was now replaced by a fierce anger.

She always felt exasperated at how her son had consistently drowned himself in self-pity, ever since he made the decision to age-skip. This wasn't the first time he manipulated every situation to fit his narrative. And this was the last straw for her.

“Ohhh, you think you’re so high and mighty, don’t you?” He spat, stepping close to her. “DON'T YOU?” And in a sudden outburst, Billy shoved Wanda with a force that sent her crashing to the floor.

The room gasped collectively at his gesture, and that was when everyone decided to take action instead of just being mere expectants.

You dropped to your knees, feeling both worried and enraged. The intensity of your indignation seemed to be making the ground beneath you tremble.

How could Billy not recognize the suffering he was causing to his own mother? Why was his need for validation bigger than his capacity to rationalize?

Tommy Maximoff: Yelena and I watched everything escalate so quickly, and we agreed not to get involved if we didn't have to. My father, Natasha and Kate were alert, and my mother has dealt with a thousand times worse than some whiny college boy (pauses) but seeing how that idiot pushed my mother, and wanted to degrade her like that?! All of a sudden, my fist collided with his face.

Tony Stark: Looking back, maybe this whole scene could have made a good dramatic painting (chuckles). I mean... Yelena, Kate, Natasha and this photographer girl giving moral support to Wanda at a table in the corner, while she allowed her son to get his comeuppance for being such a brat. Meanwhile, Tommy hitting Billy so hard it took Vision, Clint and I to separate them.

Tommy Maximoff: Even I'm shocked at the fact that it took my father, Hawkeye, and Iron Man to separate me from him. I guess I had a lot of pent up anger, and that moment was my breaking point.

Wanda Maximoff: Why did I allow it? The answer is simple; I gave up and even made the person I loved suffer in order to give my son his place. And what did he do? He made showed me in every way possible that I was a disgrace to him for the simple fact of having given birth to him. Well, if that's the case, good riddance.

Pepper Potts: Oh, what I'm missing by accompanying Peter (Parker) to a debate in Germany (laughs).

Vision: After the incident, Billy has not contacted us again. He thinks he's an outlaw, and we'll give him the benefit of the doubt. I'll just say that at least he is managing to make a name out of himself like he so badly wanted.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N): I hope he's going to therapy!

Wanda Maximoff: What did (Y/N) and I do after it all ended? We went to my room, at the Compound, and… I’ll keep the rest to myself.

"Please, I'll be a good girl," you whimpered, looking up at her with trembling lips and pleading eyes.

She had you kneeling between her legs as she sat on the edge of her bed. You couldn't handle all the torturing teasing she was putting you through, as she smacked her faux cock against your lips, and every time you tried to welcome it into your mouth, she pulled it back, only to repeat the process again.

"Oh, you already are," Wanda breathed, leaning very close to your lips that you could feel the lingering smell of wine on her breath. "But Mommy wants more than just a good girl. She wants a naughty little slut who does anything to please her.”

Before you could moan in response at the nickname she gave herself, she attacked your mouth in an aggressive kiss. At this point, your jaw was sore from so much movement and your lips were swollen, but you wouldn't have it any other way. You had found home on her lips once and you were finally back.

"I’ll make you feel good, I promise, just let me," you pleaded, your mouth watering due all the panting from the anticipation.

She gave in to the sight of those puppy eyes, swollen lips, and that upper body covered in hickies. Soon enough, she gently guided your head towards her strap, her hands resting on either side of your head.

“Suck on me. Show me what you're made of.”

Her breathing quickened as your mouth worked its way down her cock. Her hips began to rock, seeking more contact. It was evident that with very little stimulation, she let her guard down, no longer caring to hide how weak she truly was for you.

You gagged at the intrusion but took it as best as you could, even though your eyes were beginning to water.

Just like the merciless woman she has demonstrated you she was, far from going easy on you, she gripped the back of your head, holding you in place.

Whatever the reason, the coil forming on her stomach overwhelmed her, and before she could even notice, the intense wave of pleasure caused her to spurt her hot cum into your mouth, leaving her breathless and trembling.

Perhaps it was because it had been an incredibly long time since she had allowed herself to attend to her carnal needs, or perhaps it was because she found herself utterly and irresistibly attracted to you, or maybe it was a combination of both.

"Oh fuck," she groaned, riding herself out of her orgasm, giving you little to no participation. Simply using you as a face to get off to.

You did your best to swallow every single drop she gave you, however a few drops trailed on your chin, and a little bit down on your neck.

Wanda was different nevertheless. She seemed genuinely proud, filled with a warmth and admiration that made you feel truly seen and appreciated for the very first time.

Wanda grinned in satisfaction as she looked down at you.

None of your partners or hookups have ever taken the time to simply gaze down at you with anything more than burning desire. They always seemed to be in a rush, their eyes filled with nothing but lust and impatience.

"Good girl," she said, reaching out to wipe her cum off with her thumb. She then stuck it into your mouth, and watched you suck it clean. “And you know what good girls deserve after such a delicious treat?"

"What, Mommy?" You asked excitedly.

"Their reward," Wanda purred, leaning down to kiss you passionately while her fingers trailed down your neck, and gripped it gently. "My little cum-slut deserves some good fucking.”

Wanda gave a quick beckon, motioning for you to get on your feet. You had barely stood up completely, when she gripped your hips tightly with her strong hands and forced you under her. Her superhuman force made you so featherlight in comparison to her, allowing her to have complete control over your movements, leaving no doubt about who was in charge in that moment.

The tip of her cock gently brushed against your entrance making you both shiver at the mere thought of what was about to happen.

She slowly thrust her hips forward, slowly penetrating you with her strap.

You shut your eyes tight in response, gasping at how exquisite but painful it was to have your tiny hole stuffed by her massive cock.

"There, you're doing well, baby,'" she said, caressing your cheek as a display of encouragement. “Do you need to stop?” She asked attentively.

You shook your head in refusal, choosing instead to grasp her shoulders firmly, seeking something to anchor yourself to. The harshness of your touch brought a smile to her face, lighting up her eyes with a spark of joy at your silent approval.

She slowly picked up the pace, thrusting deeper and harder into you.

The slapping of your bodies, the headboard clashing against the wall, and your mutual panting and moaning were the only sounds echoing through Wanda’s spacious room at the compound.

Your eyes squeezed shut, a chaotic blend of screams and moans escaping your lips as you dangerously hung on the edge of tears.

She looked down at you, a satisfied smile playing on her lips, her eyes shimmering with delight as you writhed beneath her.

"That's it," her hips slammed against yours with a fierce intensity. In response, she could feel your nails digging into her back, leaving angry red marks that would soon blossom into bleeding scratches.

"Fuck... FUCK! I'm gonna cum! I need to cum," you screamed, not fighting against the tears any longer.

"Cum for me, darling," she accentuated each worth with a single thrust. One of her hands reached between your legs, roughly massaging your clit with her thumb, determined to tear you apart through every single nerve ending that could occur to her.

You screamed loudly, your walls squeezing her cock as you came hard. She could feel your juices flowing down her bedsheets, coating them in a warm sheen. Her seed didn't take much longer to fill you up, pushing against you as it spilled into every crevice of your pussy.

As her orgasm subsided, Wanda slowly pulled out of you, her dick slipping wetly from your hole.

"Fuck, I wish you could see yourself right now," she whispered, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Just then, an idea sparked in her mind. "Stay right there," she commanded, climbing off you.

You watched, breathless, as she stood up, her strap glistening and even dripping with both of your releases.

She opened a drawer and retrieved a Polaroid camera.

"What? You're not the only one who owns one,” she stated, a playful smirk on her lips as she gauged at your surprised expression.

She lay on her stomach, the camera positioned between your pussy and her face. With a playful grin, she snapped a picture, capturing the sight of your hole still dripping with your shared juices. The blinding flash it possessed would illuminate every detail and highlight the intensity of what you both had just experienced.

She slid a single finger inside you, provoking your walls to swallow her without hesitation once more, making you arch your back in response to the pleasure coursing through you.

She couldn't resist taking another picture, the mesmerizing sight too beautiful to pass up.

She growled in desperate need, setting the camera aside as she flipped you on all fours, her eyes glinting with desire as she admired the view you presented. She as well switched her position, this time beneath you, guiding you to lower yourself onto her face.

As you settled in, she slipped two fingers inside you, curling them in a come-hither motion that provoked you to grip her hair desperately, the headboard being too far away for you to hold onto it.

However, she continued her ministrations, seemingly unbothered and even excited by your aggressive treatment.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you weren't even able to make a single sound as your breath cut down in your throat. You felt a tightness in your chest, and each second seemed to stretch into an eternity. All you could focus on was the intense feeling restricting your ability to breathe.

"S-s-stop! STOP!" She knew from your irregular breath and whimpering what was about to happen.

She would happily embrace whatever reaction you would have. However she wanted to teach you that you didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about, not through reassuring words but through desperation.

Therefore, she slowed down her fingers, upom hearing your warning. She took her fingers out of you, pulling her hand out and slapping your ass.

“Are you sure, slut?” She asked.

"Fuck... no," you exclaimed, the feeling of your walls clenching at the lack of her fingers was too unbearable to handle.

She chuckled and moved back to your entrance, finger fucking you senseless with a slow but hard pace.

To her dislike, she eventually noticed that you were holding back again, and her irritation increased. She wanted you to let go, to embrace the experience fully, and she was ready to do whatever it took to guide you there.

"Baby, if you don't cum right now, I'm going to spank you so hard you won't be able to walk for a month," Wanda threatened. She reached around and pinched your clit, making you gasp as she continued fucking you.

“Mmm, here it comes,” you warned her, a whimper escaping from your lips as you prepared to unleash the inevitable.

With a dramatic flourish, you tilted your head back, watching as your squirt arced out of your cunt like a shimmering comet, a cascade of droplets splashing across Wanda's face, not leaving an inch unsoaked.

You took a few deep breaths, defeatedly laying on your back next to her, leaving your tits and stomach on her sight, as well as your well-fucked pussy.

And as if you were made of the most fragile crystal, she pulled the bedsheets from under you, enveloping both of you under the warmth of her bedsheets.

The sudden shift of treatment caught you off guard, and before you knew it, she had you pulled back against her chest, the sweat of her body mixing with yours.

You could hear her rapid heartbeat. It was both comforting and electrifying, grounding your once racing heart into finding its rhythm again.

"I've got you, little one," she whispered softly in your ear. “I'm not letting you go, ever again,” she vowed, leaving open mouthed kisses on your forehead.

And she held onto that promise. Forever.

The next day, the soft rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains, emanating a warm glow in the room.

You stirred awake to the gentle sensation of little kisses peppering your face. The older woman beside you, with her playful affection, made you wrinkle your nose in that adorable way that never failed to make her smile.

"How are you feeling, love?" She asked softly, her concern for you palpable both in her tone and expression.

"Wonderful," you replied, stretching your limbs with a lazy grace. You leaned in and pressed your lips against hers. "And you? Did you sleep well?"

"As I’ve ever slept in my life," she confirmed, her eyes sparkling with a mix of joy and something deeper. "I want to shout to the rooftops how much I love you, how profoundly you mean to me."

Wanda loved you. Truly, deeply loved you.

What had transpired the night before was not merely a release of carnal desires; it was an intimate, powerful affirmation of connection, a way of claiming you as hers.

"I love you more," you replied, your heart threatening to come out of your chest, as it was not yet used to this level of bliss.

You pressed another kiss to her lips, pouring every ounce of your feelings into that simple peck.

"I have faith in us, in all of this," she said, her voice determined yet filled with vulnerability. "After everything that happened, would you give me a chance?" You could see the sincerity in her eyes, the longing for a future together.

"Absolutely, my darling," you reached out, taking her hand in yours reassuringly. Two souls intertwining like an ivy growing over a sturdy stone.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wandavision #marvel

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bluessmutifyplaylist · 11 months ago

Note

You wanted the yandere sebek request for your smut blog and ill shall deliver.

Go feral to with this picture to bestie do what you want 😊.

I’m just a small town girl… Living in my delulu world~

Warnings: AFAB Reader that goes by she/her pronouns, oral (reader receiving), breeding(?), creampie, future family mentioned, dom!Sebek, CONSENSUAL (reader’s a bit delulu), Sebek loves you more than Malleus

Sebek Zigvolt

As much as he loathed to admit it, he needed you. He had grown to need you more than he needed the validation from Malleus. You had become his whole world, and you had no idea what that meant for you. He breathed for you.

It started off simple enough. He would leave sweet poems at your door or on your desk. As Eliza Hamilton once said, he built you palaces and cathedrals out of paragraphs. However, he never signed it with anything that told his identity to you. Instead, he signed it as ‘Your Secret Admirer’. It drove you crazy, but you drove him crazy. It was only fair that he should have the same effect on you that you did him.

But, with each poem, its contents got darker and darker. It got more obsessive. Despite this, you didn’t find yourself scared. You found yourself wanting to meet this person, wanting to hold them in your arms as you assured them that they were yours as you were theirs. You hadn’t even met them, but your heart fluttered upon the thought of someone being so dedicated to you.

Maybe you’ve read too many dark romance books, but your heart is no longer with you. It belonged to your secret admirer.

With each passing day, you tried to make guesses as to who leaves the poems everywhere where only you would be able to find them. It couldn’t be Ace or Deuce. As much as you loved them as friends, they couldn’t write a poem if it meant saving their own lives. You ruled out Epel and Jack as well, as they were often too busy.

This left one man, and you have caught him staring at you a few times. Sebek Zigvolt. He called you ‘human’ every single time he wanted to address you, but you couldn’t help but want your secret admirer to be him. You wanted him to be your knight in shining armor, but with a not-so-shining obsession over you.

Everything changed when you got another letter. However, it was not from your not-so-secret secret admirer. It was from a student in your potionology class who had taken interest in you. You had not informed anyone of your admirer, but you knew that he probably already knew about this. After all, the seal had been broken.

You were going to meet up with the student, so accept his confession. Before you were able to exit the classroom, you felt yourself being tugged back by your bag. You turned to see a rather angry Sebek, and you let out a gasp.

“Don’t go with that impudent boy,” He said, venom laced in his voice. “He does not deserve you.”

“Says who?”

“Says me, Your Secret Admirer. I wanted to remain secret, but it seems as though you truly wanted me to reveal myself. You truly wanted me to make you know that you are mine.”

“Oh, but I know already,” You dropped your bag and turned your body fully to him, letting you know that you weren’t scared. “I am yours, as you are mine.”

Cupping your face in his hands, he looked down at you with a still-angry look on his face.

“Then why are you insistent upon meeting up with this man?”

“Because I needed to be sure that you were my secret admirer. If you loved me, you would have swooped in and saved me from being with a man I didn’t love. While I put myself in that position, I knew you would be my knight in shining armor.”

With a flushed face, he asked, “Does this mean you accept my affections and my obsessive desire to court you?”

“I do.”

~~~~~~~~

Slipping the ring onto your finger, he dipped you down into a kiss at the altar. Applause erupted from thousands of people, happy to see one of the highest generals in the Briar Valley military be wed to the love of his life. If only they knew the darker happenings behind the scenes. If only they knew how truly obsessed with you he was. If only they knew the amount of deaths were on his hands because of you.

You knew, but that did not stop you from running into his arms time and time again. That did not stop you from courting him, accepting his proposal, planning your wedding, and marrying him. He was your captor, but you had no issue with that. It could be that you needed professional help, but you couldn’t help but give him your heart and your body.

That night, as he princess-carried you over the door’s threshold of your new home, all bets of decency were off. He was the reason why there was a tradition of why the groom cannot see the bride before the wedding: he would have tore off your wedding dress and claimed you in the room you were getting ready in.

Fortunately for yourself and your guests, he was refrained from doing so by order of Malleus Draconia.

Once you reached what you both deemed your bedroom, he put you down and immediately started kissing you with a passion you had never seen him with before. Who needed air in their lungs anyway? You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back, letting him hold up your weight after running out of breath.

“From now on, you are to depend on me and only me, do you hear? Just like you are now depending on me to keep you upright. I will be your provider, as well as the provider for our family,” He pulled away, and you smiled at what he said.

“Family?” You asked.

“If that is what my wife also desires,” He smiled back, waiting for your response.

A few moments passed between the two of you as you thought about it. Then, you nodded.

“Let me properly step out of the dress, though. I want it to be able to be worn by our daughter or daughter-in-law.” With that, he reluctantly zipped down the dress gently, leaving you in a lingerie set that you wore underneath.

You looked ravishing.

He picked you up once again, helping you out of the dress and laying you on the edge of the bed. At the end of the night, you realized that was the only gentle thing that your husband did for you, aside from the aftercare.

Kissing you once again, he made quick work of your bra and started kissing your neck. Moaning, you moved your head to the side to allow him easier access. He actually bit your neck, his fangs leaving their mark, making you hiss in a mix of pain and pleasure. He eventually let go, trailing his kisses further and further down.

Your husband was obsessed with everything about you, and he wanted to make sure that you knew that. He worshiped every part of you, even more so than Malleus. He praised the ground you walked upon.

It didn’t take him a while to tear off your panties, but you didn’t feel exposed. Instead, you felt as though it were an intimate moment. Sure, you both weren’t virgins, as there were times where temptations got the better of you. However, you always had protection. This time, you didn’t.

He started to go down on you, devouring your pussy like it was his first meal in years. He also started taking off his tuxedo. Once his shoulders were bare, he hiked your legs onto them. Your hips were raised off of the bed as he stood up, and he was relentless with his tongue, which made you have your first orgasm of the night. He then took the chance to take his pants and boxers.

Every time you saw it, his size always managed to surprise you. However, it was hard to be anything but euphoric as he physically removed himself from your core. You could tell that it pained him, but to finally see him with his juices on your face and licking his lips almost made you cum alone.

“Are you ready, darling?” He asked, starting to position his cock against your soaked pussy, a combination of your juices and his saliva acting as lube.

“Please, Seb,” You begged, and your eyes rolled back as he sheathed himself fully inside of you. He leaned forward, making your thighs press against your chest. Pressing another kiss on your lips, he pulled his dick all the way out before entering once again.

You were so warm, and inside of you, he felt like he was home. You were now officially his, and that ring on your finger proved it. He could feel the ring on his scalp as you grasped his hair to pull him into another kiss.

Pulling away to get some air, the look in your eyes was sincere. In fact, there were tears falling.

“I love you, Sebek Zigvolt,” You uttered between moans, letting your second orgasm wash over you.

The words surprised him, despite them being in your vows just a few hours ago. It felt different, with his dick inside of his wife… his wife. He knew you meant those words, even as your face contorted in pleasure.

His thrusts quickened their pace, not losing the rhythm established, until thick, hot ropes of cum were emptied into your awaiting cunt. You both knew that this would not be the last time this night, and that it was merely the introduction of a passionate time in each other’s embrace.

“I love you, too, Y/N Zigvolt.”

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ozai-the-bonsai · 4 months ago

Text

Like Lovers Do

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: You and Daemon would dream about marrying each other before both of you became victims of political marriages, very much against your wills: he was sent to the Vale and you to the Riverlands. However, when your lord husband passes away, you return to King’s Landing, only to find out that your childhood sweetheart is now wearing a crown of his own.

A/N: Once again, I wrote too much - this is a long chapter (4.3k)! And full of smut and hot daddy Daemon... And thus concludes this mini-story (which was supposed to be a one-shot but anyways)... Hope you enjoy it! Again, you can always send me Daemon x reader requests!

Warnings: I am not a native English speaker, strong language, smut, strong smut (basically the whole chapter is a big bad smut)

Taglist: @throughgoeshamilton @mirandastuckinthe80s @xicesam @mariamyousef702 @eddiemadmunson @dont-try-pesticide @sweetybuzz25 @hc-geralt-23 @schniiipsel @ttae-yong @syrma-sensei @asiludida164 @kaitieskidmore1 @irmavanity-blog @pax-2735 @trickrtreatart @shanzeyxsyed @random-human02 @scarwicht @xcallmetaniax @instabull @niiight-dreamerrrr @my-dark-prince @stargaryenx @abaker74 @babywolff @sonnensplitter @bi-narystars @softtina @sadmonke @avalyaaa

Your feelings about dining with Daemon were complicated.

On the one side, your heart yearned to spend time with him, rekindle the bond you once shared with him and perhaps find solace in his embrace once again. However, the other part of you seethed with anger, unwilling to forgive him for disappearing from your life.

Oh, and not to mention that he was still married to Lady Rhea Royce, even though one could scarcely call it a marriage.

"I shall regret this night," you muttered to yourself as your handmaid (you had offered to bring her to King's Landing with you when you left the Riverlands) assisted you in getting ready for the evening.

In these thirty years of life, regrets have been my constant companions; what is one more to add to the tally?

"The Prince has undoubtedly ensured a feast fit for royalty, my Lady," Elyse told you while fastening the laces of your crimson dress, fashioned from the finest sateen.

You chuckled softly at the fact of how naive she was. "Oh, sweet Elyse, the dinner itself is the least of my worries." You spoke with a soft voice, only to earn a confused look from Elyse. "Don't you remember when I told you that the Prince and I go way back?"

"Oh, right - you grew up together, didn't you?" She asked, earning a nod from you. After finishing adjusting your dress, Elyse stepped away, taking a good look at you. "You are going to sweep the Prince off of his feet with your beauty, my Lady."

A soft smile formed on your lips. "You have done a wonderful job, Elyse, as always." You told her, causing Elyse's blue eyes to shine. "You may take your leave for today, darling - the hour will probably be quite late when I retire tonight."

After Elyse left you alone in your chambers, you took a deep breath and stood in front of the mirror for a while, lost in that vast ocean of thoughts circling your mind like crazy. You realised that you were scared to get the answers to those questions that had plagued your nights ever since you had left King's Landing.

Nevertheless, you deserved to know why - why he hadn't done anything to fight for you and why he had simply disappeared into the ghosts of your past.

Slowly, your feet took you to Prince Daemon's chambers. The corridors of the Red Keep were cold, the wind inside was giving you goosebumps. The white-cloak keeping watch in front of Daemon's chambers nodded at you upon seeing you and slightly opened the door to inform Daemon about your presence. A few seconds later, you were standing inside, your back facing the closed doors, a large dining table in front of you.

Daemon stood up from his seat and walked towards you, he was all in black except for the red linings on the sleeves of his black tunic. You couldn't help yourself but admire how unearthly he looked - the contrast between his silver hair, pale skin and black clothing added another layer of charm to his beauty.

He was ageing like Dornish wine.

For the third time that same day, the Prince brought your hand to his lips. "You are a feast for the eyes, my Lady."

You felt heat rushing to your face. Truth be told, you couldn't recall the last time you were showered with this many compliments in mere hours. "You flatter me, my Prince."

Daemon pointed at the table with his head. "Shall we?" He asked, earning a nod from you. You sat at the opposite ends of the giant table, which was adorned with all kinds of food: from roast duck to lemon cakes and the finest of wines...

"You remembered," you said, you didn't expect Daemon to remember how much you loved the taste of roast duck.

The Prince chuckled softly as he slowly filled his plate. "It pains me to hear your disbelief in me, love."

You raised a challenging eyebrow at him while you reached for the wine. "Forgive me for not expecting you to remember small details about me, my Prince," you spoke with a sarcastic tone, "I believed you had forgotten that I existed."

Daemon licked his lower lip, you could see that he kind of enjoyed you biting him back at every chance you got; however, you knew very well that you had to thread carefully with his patience. "You would be surprised at how much I still remember, love," Daemon spoke with a deep voice before taking a sip from his wine. "Are you planning on staying in King's Landing?"

You hated the way he changed the subject whenever he felt himself cornered.

"As long as my father holds his position as the Master of Coins, yes, I shall remain in King's Landing." You responded while taking a piece of the roast duck into your mouth. "Mmh, Daemon, this is exquisite!"

A small laughter left the Prince's lips, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"I gather roast duck is not one of the Riverlands' specialities," he muttered. "Are you planning on remarrying?" He asked, he seemed genuinely curious. Since your mouth was full, you shook your head in a short response as you swallowed your food. "A woman such as yourself does surely miss the marriage bed."

Upon hearing his last remark, you let out a loud laughter unfitting of a lady of your station; however, you didn't feel the need to force yourself to follow all those formalities when you were with Daemon - you never did.

The Prince was apparently having difficulty understanding what you found so amusing in his words.

"Miss the marriage bed?" You repeated Daemon's words. "Oh, Daemon, the day I miss my marriage bed, will be the day I ask you to burn me alive with Caraxes."

The Prince clicked his tongue. "Naive of you to think I would allow you to give voice to such absurdity, love."

Once again, you raised an eyebrow. "Absurdity, is it now?" You shook your head in disbelief as you brought your cup to your lips. "You have no idea what absurdity is, my Prince." After drinking all the remaining wine in your glass at once, you placed the cup back onto the table, your eyes finding Daemon's questioning ones. "When the lady wife of a wealthy lord becomes nothing more than a highborn whore, that is an absurdity."

"I believe your words need more elaborating, my Lady." Daemon spoke, his purple eyes moving slowly from your eyes to your lips and to your cleavage, only to return to your eyes once more. You felt warmness spreading through your body, his intense gaze was enough to make you feel dizzy.

Taking a deep breath, you fixed your gaze on the sky visible through the window, which was becoming darker by the minute. "I have told you earlier that my late husband was not able to father any children," you said, you could see from the corner of your eye that Daemon nodded at your words. "When he realised he needn't have taken me wife, he stopped seeing me except to bed me."

Slowly, you turned back to Daemon - there was something else inside his deep, purple eyes that resembled... fury?

"I became one of his whores," you spat out the words as if they were venom. "But I was the noble, wealthy, lady whore whom he could exclusively have for himself." As you spoke, the feelings of anger and disgust you had been trying so hard to suppress suddenly surfaced, making you lose control. "My only duty for the last decade was to let myself get fucked by a fat, old man over and over again! I couldn't even mother any children so that this fucked up fate of mine would be worth it all..."

You saw Daemon clenching his fists and chin in anger but you couldn't understand the subject of his fury - above all, he was the one who had done absolutely nothing to avoid both of your damned fates.

"Why, Daemon?" You asked as you pushed your seat back loudly. "Why didn't you do anything for us? Why did you leave me alone to drown in my nightmares?!"

Your voice was getting louder.

The Prince responded with an indifferent voice, absent from any kind of emotion, which only embittered you. "We were both married to different people, our destinies took us to separate places," he responded, causing your eyes to widen with shock. "It wouldn't have changed anything."

"Is this your excuse for leaving all the messages I have sent unreturned?" You asked with a disappointed tone as you started pacing up and down in his chambers. "You... You are unbelievable, Daemon!"

"Thread carefully," the Prince spoke with a warning tone.

However, at that moment, you couldn't have cared less - you wanted to trample on Daemon's damn boundaries until they were nothing but meaningless lines.

"You could have said something, done something - anything! But instead, you stood by as we were both shipped off - and to what end? You haven't spent a single night with your wife in years!" You shook your head in disbelief as you stopped walking to take a look at Daemon, who looked like an angry dragon that was about to throw fire any moment now.

"You didn't even say goodbye to me."

Then, everything happened all of a sudden.

Daemon roared in fury as he threw his plate (and multiple other plates) off the table, which ended up loudly crashing the nearby wall and falling down onto the floor, causing you to slightly jump in your place. The next thing you knew, Daemon was standing right in front of you, his right hand holding you by your chin with a firm grip, his fingers digging into the flesh of your skin.

"Because it hurt," the words left his lips silently but the power they held was immense. "I didn't bid you farewell, I didn't return to any of your ravens because thinking about you hurt me. So. Fucking. Much."

When he finally let you go, you were able to speak, though your voice sounded weak. "Then why?" you asked. "Why didn't you do anything?"

The Prince let out a scoff. "Because I am the prince, you believe I can do anything, change anything but it is not as simple as that, my Lady." As he spoke, you realised how close he was standing to you and how his figure towered over yours. You could still feel the fury circling him but he was trying to calm himself down. "There were arrangements done far beyond my reach, my station and yet you still dare blame me!"

You raised your hands in the air as you talked. "You talk as if you have tried to change the King's mind back then, my Prince." You spoke with a bitter tone, your index finger pressing against his chest as you hissed between your gritted teeth. "We both know that you did nothing of sorts - you decided it was better to bury your sorrows in some whores!"

Daemon aggressively grabbed you by your wrist, his hold was so firm it made you flinch as you felt the pain shooting through your body. "What would you have had me do?" Daemon's strong voice thundered in his chambers, causing you to flinch another time. "Take you to Dragonstone and make you my wife? Defy the King's will?"

There was a small silence for a brief moment, you could hear Daemon taking deep breaths as he waited for an answer. However, the single word leaving your lips was obviously not the answer he was waiting for.

"Yes."

It was hard to decipher the dark look in Daemon's eyes - it carried hints of anger and fury but also lust and yearning.

As the Prince slowly let your wrist go, you placed both your hands against his chest, his warm breath licking your forehead as you looked up. "Even now, I would have you take me to Dragonstone on dragonback," your voice was seductive, not caring to hide the desires spilling out with every word. "And marry me in the tradition of your House."

Daemon's breaths were getting deeper by the second, he raised his right hand to caress your face with the side of his finger as the other hand rested on your hip. "Such temptation," he spoke with a low tone while his fingers trailed down to your neck. His touch sent shivers down your spine, leaving you yearning for more. "And so eager to be mine, are you not, love?"

You wanted him to do unspeakable things to you.

At that moment, all you could think about was how it would feel to let him fuck you into oblivion - until you couldn't even remember your own name anymore.

"Please, Daemon," your voice was a mere whisper as the Prince leaned into you, his soft lips brushing your neck. "I have waited long enough."

His warm breath against the sensitive skin of your neck made you heave a sigh, which was followed by his lips leaving a small kiss. "For what?" He spoke against your neck. "Say it."

"For you to claim me as yours."

The next thing you knew - Daemon's lips rested against yours.

His lips were hungry, kissing you with so much passion as if he was trying to take away your next breath. Little did you notice that his hands were around your neck, holding your head to allow him to deepen the kiss.

You let out a small whine as Daemon slid his tongue into your mouth, claiming it as his, while pressing his body hard against yours. The heat that took over your body was insane - you felt it getting hotter and hotter with his every touch, with each brush of his lips against yours.

"Daemon," you breathed out his name when he left your lips to kiss your neck while backing you back up until your back ended up touching the cold walls.

A moan left your lips when he sucked on the skin. "Mmh?"

"You have too many layers on."

The naughty smirk he carried - you could swear it alone could make you reach your high right then and there - as he took off his cloak and his tunic was something you wanted to carve into your mind, never to forget. Before he could throw away the clothing, your hands started stroking his bare chest, moving to his well-built arms.

He looked like a Valyrian God.

"So eager, now, are you not?" Daemon spoke against your lips, his tone husky. His hands were wandering around your body, hungrily, making you almost forget how to breathe. "Let me show you how it feels to be fucked befittingly, my Lady."

His fingers quickly found their way under the skirts of your crimson dress, trailing up to the source of heat in your body. Upon feeling how wet you already were, the cocky smirk took its place on Daemon's lips.

You let out a deep breath as Daemon slid two of his fingers inside you, his other hand was holding you firmly from your waist. "I have just started touching you, and yet," the moan escaping your lips echoed in the room when Daemon curled his fingers inside you, "you are fucking wet."

Well, you were not the only person in the room literally aching to fuck - Daemon's trousers were failing to hide his hardness.

"You are one to talk, my Pri..." Before you could finish your words, Daemon found that sweet spot in you, making you cry out in bliss. When his thumb also joined his little game, circling over your clit, your only solution for silencing your cries of pleasure was placing your left hand over your mouth.

However, when Daemon suddenly stopped both stimulations, you were left confused.

Slowly, the Prince removed your hand from over your mouth. "You are not to silence anything, love." He spoke as he began to move all his fingers once again. Your hold against his arms tightened.

Biting your lower lip, you spoke with a voice that sounded no more than a soft cry. "We might get heard..."

"I do not give a fuck." Daemon responded as he brought you nearer to the edge. He breathed out your name. "You are mine, and the whole Keep shall know this."

"Fuck," you let out another moan when Daemon fastened the movement of his thumb against your clit, the heat between your legs was getting hotter with each passing moment. "Daemon, if you don't stop," you were out of breath, unable to open your eyes. "I am going to..."

Before you could reach your bliss, Daemon stopped the magic he had been carrying out with just his fingers, leaving you feeling somewhat empty. As your eyes found his darkened ones, you knew that he was about to rip your dress away from your body.

So before he could tear the exquisite fabric of your dress, you took the advantage of getting rid of his trousers, freeing his erection from the fabric. The Prince inhaled deeply when your right hand wrapped around his length, slowly moving.

"I am going to tear that dress apart," Daemon breathed out huskily as you went down onto your knees.

"Or you can simply take it off, my Prince." You whispered, seduction dripping from your words, before letting your tongue swirl around the tip of his cock.

"Bullshit," the Prince spoke but he was interrupted by a small grunt escaping his lips. "Don't tease me, love."

You clicked your tongue. "But that is where the fun lies." You responded in a naughty manner and wrapped your mouth around his cock, slowly taking him in. Daemon let out a long, low moan when you started bobbing your head.

His hands quickly got tangled in your hair, pushing his length deeper down your throat, triggering your gagging reflex. Careful not to let your teeth touch anything, you quickly pulled back, receiving a questioning look from the Prince.

"You are too big, Daemon," you said while wiping away the saliva from the edges of your mouth. "I cannot take all of you in."

Still, your hand was moving up and down his length. Slowly, you cupped his balls with your other hand, causing the Prince to gasp, his hold on your hair tightening.

"We shall work on that, love," Daemon's voice was husky when he talked, his purple eyes seemed almost black, darkened with lust. "Perhaps if I fucked your mouth every night..."

You let out a moan when the Prince lightly pulled you up from your hair, it was to signal you to stand up but your reaction to him pulling your hair only made his cock throb more.

"Interesting," Daemon whispered against your lips as his hands impatiently undid the ties of your dress, letting it fall to your feet in mere seconds. "You enjoyed that, did you not?"

His hands held you from your ass as he pulled you against his chest, you could feel his naked hardness against your lower stomach. Biting your lower lip, you nodded slowly. As a response, one of Daemon's hands moved to the back of your neck and held you tight while pulling you into a deep kiss.

Well, it was more like clashing tongues and teeth. Your hands were restlessly wandering around his god-like body, never able to get enough - each touch seemed to fuel the fire burning inside you.

A loud moan left your lips when Daemon's hand pulled from your hair, less lightly this time.

The Prince chuckled against your lips. "You are a far dirty girl than I have imagined, love." Without giving you any time to react, he held you up, your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. "That old cunt never let you explore what you like, did he?"

As Daemon let you down onto the sateen sheets of his bed, you shook your head. "I need you to show me, Daemon."

Placing a cushion under your lower back to arrange the height, Daemon licked his lower lip, he was standing at the edge of the bed. "Oh, you need not worry, my Lady," his tip was toying with your entrance, causing your breath to become deeper. "Together, we shall try even the dirtiest, sickest things known to men."

His voice, his eyes, his touch... Everything about him drove you crazy.

When Daemon gently pushed himself into you, you both let out a deep breath as he gave you some time to adjust to his size. When you nodded at him, he quickly picked up a steady pace. Still, you weren't quite sure you were getting everything out of this position. Hence, you decided to place your legs against Daemon's shoulders instead of having them wrapped around his waist.

The next time the Prince thrust into you, a loud cry of bliss left your lips without you having any control over it.

"Fuck!" You cried out as Daemon thrust deeper with a smirk on his face. "Daemon, you are so..."

"I know," he grunted the words while leaning into you. "Tonight, you shall see the stars, my Lady."

To let you try something else, the Prince picked up his right hand from the bed to wrap it around your neck. His grip was not harsh, he just applied the right amount of pressure while thrusting deep into you.

You could swear your eyes tried to roll behind your head. Several moans wanted to escape your lips but they came out muffled.

The way you reacted only made Daemon harder, as if it was even possible.

He grunted your name against your neck as he let go of you, placing the hand on your breast to toy with your nipple. "You are making me crazy," his voice was low.

"You," you were out of breath, "are sending me to another dimension, Daemon."

The Prince sucked on your neck. "I am not done with you yet."

You sent him a confused look when he abruptly stopped and pulled out of you; however, you were not expecting the Prince to literally flip you onto your stomach.

"On your knees," he commanded with a husky voice, which somehow turned you on even more as you stood on the bed on all fours. After thrusting into you, Daemon spoke once again. "Rest on your upper body and lift up your ass."

You adjusted your position as he instructed you and as soon as he picked up the pace, your cries started filling the chambers. He was continuously hitting the sweet spot inside you that sent your head over the clouds.

"Daemon," you cried out his name, "I am getting close."

"Not yet," the Prince hissed the words as you screamed into the sheets of the bed, knowing very well the muffled sounds could still be heard from the outside.

When Daemon's hands got tangled in your hair, you felt anticipation quickly growing inside you. The moment he pulled your hair with enough strength to lift your head up from the bed, your cries of pleasure only got louder.

"Daemon!" You cried out, the Prince picked up the pace with each passing second, and the slapping of his body against yours echoed inside. "Oh, fuck! I am coming, Daemon, if you don't..."

Apparently, the Prince had decided to give you your orgasm. Instead of slowing down, he let your hair go to hold you firmly from your ass with both hands as he fucked you into oblivion.

At that moment, you simply felt like an animal.

The sateen sheets wrinkled in your palms as you reached your orgasm, your whole body shaking as you screamed out Daemon's name, your sight becoming blurry.

After what felt like hours, when you finally came down from your high, Daemon turned you onto your back with a swift movement, pulling out. Before you could comprehend what was happening - mostly because your mind was still in that post-orgasm fog - Daemon finished himself with two strokes of his hand.

His warm seed landed on your stomach, on your breasts and on your face as the Rogue Prince grunted your name over and over and over again.

When Daemon let himself fall down next to you, you were finally coming back to reality. You slowly pushed yourself to sitting, not caring about the cum flowing down your cheek or your breasts.

Daemon chuckled softly. "You have no idea how dirty you look, love." His voice was low but one could still hear the remnants of your love-making.

With the idea creeping into your mind, a naughty smirk formed on your lips. "Perhaps the Prince would like me to take a hot bath," you spoke as you started playing with his silver hair. "So that he himself can join me as well."

His laugh was like a song to your ears. "I assume you could not get enough of me."

You shook your head. "I have waited more than a decade so that I could have a taste of you," the words left your lips in a bitter manner even though that was not the intention. "And that cock of yours is a forbidden blessing."

Daemon straightened as well, sitting next to you. "About that," he took your hands between his, his tone was so soft it resembled his sixteen-year-old self. "I intend to talk with my brother on the morrow."

Your eyes widened with shock as you asked with a shaky voice. "About... us?"

The Prince nodded while he left a small kiss on your forehead. "I shall take you to Dragonstone, on Caraxes, and make you my wife," he whispered. "Queen of the Narrow Sea."

#daemon x reader #daemon x reader smut #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fic #hotd #hotd fic #daemon x rhaenyra #matt smith #game of thrones #smut

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lovelivision · 6 months ago

Text

NEW JOB

pairing: gojo satoru/reader

wc: 7.1k

summary: starting a new job is always hard, especially when you're tasked with a glorified babysitting role for the most powerful sorcerer and his antics, but what happens when you somehow find yourself growing oddly attached to his weird behaviours and teasing nature

a/n; i am obsessing over this 2d man and i cannot be stopped, come near me and i'm infecting you with thoughts of him. anyways! new blog so i can write for jjk hehehhohoh (i wrote this in a single sitting because i'm mentally unwell)

warnings: 18+ only, smut, making out, dry humping, hickeys, dirty talk, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex, big dick gojo (duh), creampie, afab!reader, she/her pronouns used, no use of y/n, nicknames

MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

Why you were here, you had no clue… well you did, you just wish you didn’t have to be here but being forced to do this was putting it lightly. It’s frustrating because they act like you don’t have your own jobs to handle but now you’re being forced to be Gojo Satoru’s handler as well. This is going to be a much more taxing job than exorcising any curse, why he insisted on pissing off the higher ups is beyond you. Not that you’re completely innocent in those regards, mind you.

You’re sat waiting in Yaga’s office, waiting for a certain someone who treats showing up on time as optional. Looking at the clock behind Yaga, you see it’s bordering on 15 minutes since he was supposed to be here.

You deflate slightly with your quiet sigh, “Do I really need to be h–”

“–Yes,” is the only reply you get out of the man in front of you, eyes unreadable but based on the aura of the room, he’s beyond pissed.

Sinking further into your seat, you murmur about how annoying all of this is, it’s meant for Yaga to hear but he ignores you. Seeing Gojo is going to take years off your life, you’ve crossed paths with him many times in the past few years, he has a bad habit of interrupting your exorcisms, finishing them, and then getting on your nerves.

The door behind you slides open and shut loudly, making your heart lurch inside your chest, while you outwardly fight the urge to flinch. Gojo moves in behind you and leans down, “Didn’t scare you, did I?” There’s an annoying mirth in his tone as he carelessly rounds the seat and sits far too close to you.

You don’t spare him a glance, “No.”

He smiles at you knowingly but says nothing more, finally addressing Yaga, “What’s up?”

“You’re late,” Yaga takes in a deep breath, fighting the urge to yell at him.

Gojo’s smile grows, his words picked carefully to piss the pair of you off more, “Well, I know that part, I meant why am I being summoned here.”

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose, “Why is he only being informed of this now?” You ask, irritated with not only Gojo but the whole damn system. You were told nearly two weeks ago that this was happening, how hadn’t he been told until now.

Yaga looks at you like it should be fairly obvious why they waited and you guess it is, he’s blind-sided this way, he doesn’t have a chance to wriggle out of it when today is the official first day of your new job babysitting Gojo Satoru and his first-year students. Oh, this is just perfect for you and not foreboding at all.

Before you have a chance to speak again, Yaga says, almost like he’s delighting in how inconveniencing this will be for Gojo, that, “You now have a teaching assistant, Gojo. You will be monitored as well as your students and everything will be reported back to me.”

“Ah, a glorified babysitter, how lovely,” Gojo’s smile doesn’t drop but it does look more strained.

Yaga doesn’t take kindly to his tone, “Watch it, this is fully deserved and you know it.”

“I’ve done nothing,” he defends himself.

You scoff slightly at that and Gojo side eyes you, you make an active effort to avoid his gaze though and instead focus on what Yaga is saying, “After that stunt you pulled with faking Itadori’s death recently, you’re lucky to be getting off so easy.”

Gojo jabs his thumb in your direction, “So what’s her punishment for then?”

You finally look at him, “Excuse me?”

“Well, I don’t imagine this is something one signs up for, so what did you do to piss off the higher ups,” his smile is teasing and so is his tone.

You squint at his stupid blindfold before looking back at Yaga, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Yaga coughs at your statement but doesn’t let Gojo’s endless amusement at your suffering continue, “What may or may not have happened is none of your business Gojo–”

“–Ah, so something did happen then,” he elbows at your shoulder and you grumble at him.

Yaga completely ignores Gojo’s antics, “Your only concern is to be accommodating and keep her in the loop.”

He waves a hand easily, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” he brushes off the conversation with a sceptical nonchalance. His palms hit his knees as he pulls himself off the seat, “Is that all?”

Yaga pauses, watching him carefully for a moment before acquiescing, “Yes, that’s all, get out.”

“Come on, troublemaker, you have three adorable first years to meet!” his tone is too chipper and you don’t take kindly to his nickname for you but you stand from the seat and bow at Yaga before following behind him.

⸝⸝⸝

You are… uncomfortable, to say the least. The three first years sit in front of you, confused and waiting for some kind of explanation but Gojo just leans against the lectern, amused smile plastered on his face. You’re nervous, children can be so… scary, they were scary when you were their age and now you’re getting stage fright, in front of three people.

Gojo giggles behind you, granting some mercy… his version of mercy anyways, “We have a new addition to the class!”

“She’s… a student?” The one you recognise as Itadori tilts his head in question.

You can hear the glee drip from Gojo’s voice, “Well in some ways–”

“–No.” You cut him off abruptly, “I am… uhm, a teaching assistant… of sorts…”

The girl, very clearly unamused, questions further, “And what are you gonna be doing?”

You freeze up, you do know what you’re meant to be doing but you’re getting shy, you’ve never been good at being put on the spot.

Gojo finally moves from behind the lectern and places a hand on your shoulder, “She’s basically… my babysitter!” He announces, large smile on his face.

The students look… completely not shocked, like they expected something like this to happen at some point.

“I am here to help though! So, if you have questions or want someone to spar against or if Gojo is unavailable and you need help on a mission, I am here to be of service,” you smile lightly, trying to be kind. If you’re going to be here, you want to be of some use.

Itadori nods in thought, “So, are you strong?”

You feel warm in the face at the question, it’s not something you’ve ever been asked really. You think you are, you’re definitely capable but you’re nowhere near Gojo.

While deep in thought, Gojo replies for you, “Yes.” His reply is simple and leaves them all with more questions.

You throw a glance at Gojo before answering for yourself, “I am capable and willing to help.”

⸝⸝⸝

Your first introductions went better than you expected, you quite like them all, even the quiet one who’s always in a bad mood. Things would’ve gone better if Gojo didn’t delight in teasing you in front of them all, it’s embarrassing to be poked and prodded at for some kind of a reaction, you mean, isn’t he meant to be an adult for crying out loud.

It’s only been about a week and a bit into you ‘babysitting’ Gojo and you think he might be attempting to annoying you into quitting but that isn’t an option for you. The kids are sparring on the open field and Gojo is at your side, poking the side of your face with a mischievous smirk plastered on his. He’s been trying and failing to get a reaction out of you for the past 10 minutes.

“Gojo, is there something you want from me, or are you just waiting for me to try and smack you,” Turning your body, you face him completely, your hands on your hips.

He shoves his hand behind his back quickly, trying to play it off like he wasn’t just poking your cheek, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Sighing you continue, “If you’re trying to annoy me into quitting, you’re going to find that awful difficult, I have to be here.”

“Quite the contrary, I like having you here, troublemaker,” he smiles, leaning against the tree behind him.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” you grit out.

He hums lightly, “That’s just cause you’re not used to my love language.”

Raising a brow at him, you ask, “Your love language is being absurdly annoying?”

“Now you’re getting it,” he pokes you directly on your nose and you exhale sharply, twisting your lips to hide any hint of amusement. Turning back to the students you resume ignoring him, which he huffs dejectedly at, “If you’re gonna be watching over me for a while, you may as well get used to talking to me, I think I’m quite enjoyable.”

“Of course you would think that,” you retort.

“Ouch,” he grabs his chest, pretending to be wounded, he pushes off the tree and hangs an arm over both your shoulders, his weight pressing into you, “So… seriously, what did you do?” His head is turned to the side of yours, watching for your reactions.

You’re starting to feel uncomfortable at his proximity but apparently so are the others because Kugisaki turns and points at Gojo, yelling, “Don’t hang off her like that, perv!”

You stifle a laugh at her accusation, as Fushiguro rolls his eyes and grimaces.

Gojo calls out, “Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?” He wraps both his arms around you and pokes his tongue out at them all.

You’re squished against him and it’s making you hot, “Gojo, if you don’t peel yourself off of me in the next few seconds I’m going to rip out your tongue.”

“I don’t think you would be able to, is the thing though,” he snickers down at you, he does release you though, taking a step back.

You feel beyond annoyed and as much as you know your fist won’t connect, you go to throw a powerful punch at him anyways. It predictably gets stopped by his infinity, never even making it close to his face.

“Oh wow, you tried to punch me!” He exclaims in faux hurt, his hand reaches up to yours and unfurls your fist, instead interlacing your fingers, “I was wondering how long it would take for you to crack and try and hit me.”

You sigh in defeat, “Gojo, please let go of my hand.”

“Tell me what you did and I just might,” he propositions.

The kids are yelling at Gojo from the field, cursing him out for being weird, which of course, he only finds hilarious.

“Gojo,” he hums at you in acknowledgement, “Do you think if I tried really hard, and willed it to happen, that me kicking you in the balls would connect?”

He pouts at your words, apparently holding out for a different response, “Oh, how you wound me.” He drops your hand with a sigh, “Can’t be that bad, tell meeeee,” he whinges slightly, attempting a new way of annoying you, clearly.

“You’re right, it’s not that bad, but it’s way more fun not to tell you at this point,” you smile brightly at him and his eyes widen in slight shock at the display.

He continues pouting, “Cruel…”

You just shrug at him in response.

⸝⸝⸝

Every time Gojo is around, he is trying to get you to tell him why you were assigned to be his handler. You don’t tell him, you just shrug or smile like you have no idea why, you understand why he likes to tease a bit now, seeing him so upset over something so small does brighten your day just a little bit.

As much as you hate to admit it, you’ve grown fond of his company, as well as the three kids. You thought this would be more hellish, and while on some occasions it is, you quite enjoy your day to days now. Filled with his teasing tone and stupid smile, you’re feeling comfortable with them all.

Your only complaint is that, while this is what you’re expected to be doing most of the time, the fact that sorcerers are hard to come by hangs true and you are still sent on solo missions on a whim. It’s only annoying because you’re expected to come and go easily, like fighting off first-grade or high-grade curses isn’t completely taxing.

Today you enter the classroom slightly later than usual, having been absent since the middle of yesterday, you didn’t even have time to sleep, you showered and came straight here. You mumble an offhanded good morning before collapsing into a chair in the corner of the front of the class.

“Look who decided to show back up,” Gojo chirps.

“Mmm, too loud… too much… so early,” you grumble back.

Itadori asks what no one else does, “Where did you go?”

You sigh into the air, “Ah, I had a job, it’s fine though, here now,” you smile lazily.

Gojo scrutinises you from behind his blindfold, he can tell you’re tired, hell, everyone could tell you’re tired. Your head is barely staying up, almost lolling to the side, looking for somewhere to rest so you can sleep.

“Maybe you should go home,” he comments, uncharacteristically serious.

You peek an eye open at him, they had fallen closed, when did they close? “Can’t.” you mutter out, “I’m needed here, so you don’t do anything stupid.”

“You aren’t going to be able to stop me if you’re asleep,” he retorts.

“No but it won’t look as bad if I am at least here,” you cover your mouth as you yawn.

He moves over to your corner and bends down, “If I promise to behave will you go home?”

“Probably not,” you smirk up at him, “I don’t think I’d believe you.”

Kugisaki groans, “Flirt on your own time!”

You bark a laugh at that, the back and forth you have with Gojo is not how you flirt and you imagine it’s not how he does either, “Yeah, Gojo. Go away.” You say, playing into it.

His smile is light as he turns away from you, “Fine but if you complain about a backache later from sleeping in that chair it’s not my fault.”

“I’m not gonna fall asleep,” you counter.

⸝⸝⸝

You fell asleep.

You don’t know when exactly it happened, you just know it did… and that you’re embarrassed. When you startle awake in your seat, you can hear the distant noises of the students sparring and the breeze flowing through the – previously – closed windows.

“Hey, you’re up,” Gojo notices from his spot, lazing in the students desks.

You sit up a bit more, “How long–”

“–How long were you asleep?” He finishes for you, “A couple hours.”

“Why are you in here?” You ask, “Why aren’t you with the first-years?”

“The first-years are sparring with the second-years, they’re fine,” he too, sits up more, “I stayed cause I didn’t wanna leave you alone in here.”

You raise a brow at him, “That or you just didn’t wanna actually do your job today.”

“Ah, you caught me,” he laughs easily.

“Mhm, thought so,” standing up completely, you stretch out your limbs, joints aching from sleeping in the chair.

“I didn’t think you would also be doing solo missions while being here,” he comments from behind you.

“Well… you know how shorthanded we are,” you walk over to where he’s sitting, “Plus, me being here is almost as much as a punishment for me as it is for you,” you remind.

“That’s funny, I wouldn’t say I feel punished,” he says it like it means nothing, like his feelings aren’t lingering right under the surface.

Thinking on it, you agree, “I don’t much either, I’ve been having quite a bit of fun actually,” you laugh lightly.

Gojo’s world stands still for a moment, he’s been growing addicted to how you smile, the sound of your laugh. He’s lucky for the blindfold because nearly every time he looks at you he has hearts in his eyes.

Noticing his silent staring, you grow shy, rubbing the back of your neck, “Sorry for falling asleep, it won’t happen again.”

He recovers quickly, “No it won’t… because next time, you’re going to go home to sleep properly before showing back up here.”

“Whatever you say, Gojo,” you play it off, not taking him seriously.

“Call me Satoru.”

You’re a little shocked, feeling like you misheard him, you clarify, “I’m sorry, what?”

He gets up from where he’s sitting, “We’ve known each other for years now, call me Satoru.”

You don’t know if you should, it feels weird, like letting him into your life more than he already is and that’s a little much for post nap you, “Maybe…”

He chuckles, “Don’t force yourself, just know, you can if you want to…”

You nod at him, suddenly feeling incredibly bashful.

⸝⸝⸝

You’re cleaning… why are you cleaning? Because you somehow got conned into having Gojo over. Its honestly impressive of him, you have no idea how he convinced you to let him into your home. You barely can even recall the conversation, something about movies, he’s somehow got your favourite movie before the DVD or streaming release.

Anyways, now you’re scrabbling around your meagre apartment, attempting to clean it up to a high standard before you have a guest over. You have time, you have enough time to clean the main areas, yourself, your bedroom… wait, your bedroom (?). Brushing off the thought, you continue your tirade, it ends with just enough time for you to make yourself look presentable.

Knocks in the form of a carefree tune are thumped into your door and you know who it is instantly, even his knocking is distinctly him. Tugging your shirt on, you call out, “Just a sec!”

Pausing in front of the door, you smooth yourself out, like you weren’t just running around like an insane person a few minutes ago, and then you open the door. The sight of Gojo is shocking, it wasn’t what you were expecting… you’ve seen him in casual clothes before, but you think you’ve gotten too used to seeing him at the school.

You mumble out, “You look nice.”

His eyes light up behind his glasses, “Why thank you, you look nice as well.” He speaks lowly on his way past you.

You stand stunned for a little, not expecting his compliment to affect you so much. He’s already walked down the hall while you stood staring at where he once was. Closing the door, you start after him, meeting him in the lounge room.

“You ready?” He asks.

You nod your head, waiting for him to show how he accrued the movie.

“Ta da!” He shows the usb stick, presumedly holding the movie.

You sigh at his jovial display of piracy and grab the thumb drive off him. Gojo makes himself comfortable on the couch while you plug it into the tv.

“You have a cute apartment,” he hums, looking around from where he’s sitting.

Grabbing the remote, you switch through the tv’s sources and search for the content on the stick, “Thank you… I think.”

“It’s a compliment,” he affirms.

You flop down next to him on the couch, “We good to start? Or do you have more to say?”

“I always have more to say,” he grins.

“I’ve noticed,” you snark back, beginning the movie anyways.

It starts off good, the movie’s quality isn’t great but it’s good enough to enjoy the content of the film. That is… until the halfway mark and then the quality drops significantly and you can’t even tell what’s happening on screen anymore, everything fuzzy and words mumbled, almost robotic.

You suppress a smile, “Gojo… where did you get the movie?”

“…Online somewhere… I watched the first few minutes and it looked fiiine,” he’s whinging slightly, disappointed in the sudden quality drop.

You can’t help but laugh at his complete dismay, “It’s fine, Gojo, at least I got to see some of it?” You try looking on the bright side, “You’ll just have to buy me a real copy when it comes out.”

“Is that another invitation?” He teases.

You look over to him, “Another? I barely remember giving out this one.”

“That hurts, you know?” He pouts at you.

You can’t help the way your face breaks out in a smile, “It is.” He looks at you confused, “An invitation,” you finish.

His pout breaks into a large smile, “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you liked me.”

“Ah, you’re beginning to grow on me,” you torment lightly.

He nods his head solemnly, “Knew I would.”

You scoff at him, only now realising how close he’s gotten to you, your knees touching, his face so close to your own. You go to look away from him, feeling self-conscious, but his hand reaches up and pulls your face back to continue the intense eye contact.

“If I kiss you right now, will you try and punch me again?” He jokes, trying to relieve the tension.

You find a place inside you that outweighs your anxiety, “Only one way for you to find out.”

He leans in that tiny bit more and captures your lips in his, the kiss tender and gentle, he’s searching, learning. He doesn’t want to scare you away, wanting to kiss you for so long and not willing to ruin it by spooking you now. It took him so long just to work up the courage to get inside your apartment, he doesn’t want you to pull back when you’ve finally stepped towards him.

He parts first, hesitant, if he keeps kissing you, it won’t stay innocent because he really wants to kiss you until you cry.

You repress a whine at the loss of him, “Wait…” You trail off, embarrassed by how badly you want him to keep kissing you.

“Yeah?” He presses, wanting to hear you ask him for it.

“Can… you kiss me again,” you ask, before adding, “please?”

It’s too good to be true, he’s dreaming… but even if that’s the case, he’s sure as hell not wasting this moment, “Anything for you~”

Leaning back in, he kisses you with more fervour, his lips more insistent, desperate. His one hand stays on your face, angling you so he can kiss you deeper, he wants more, more. The other hand reaches for your hip, tugging and pulling at the fat there, groping your skin greedily.

Your moans and whimpers muffle into his mouth, he swallows them down, licking into your mouth, silently asking for more. Which, you give, you think you’d give him the world right now if you could. His kisses are dizzying and full. You’ve not been kissed like this… ever and it’s overwhelming you in an embarrassing way.

Pulling back, you rush out, “Wait wait…”

Gojo freaks a little, “Shit– sorry, was it too much?”

You shake your head, “No, well…maybe, I’ve just… never been kissed like that before, I was feeling dizzy.”

He breathes a sigh of relief before targeting you with a teasing smile, an evil glint in his eyes, “I’m kissing you dumb, huh?”

You feel hot, everywhere, “I–”

Your defence is cut off with this lips back on yours, he’s drunk on your kisses and he’s not going to stop. Knowing that he’s overwhelming you with them only spurs him on, he wants you to be so stupid because of his lips, he thinks he couldn’t want anything more than that right now.

Your arms wrap around his neck and pull him closer; he lets it happen and falls into you, pressing your back into the couch. On instinct, your legs wrap around his waist, tugging him down into you more, desiring the proximity. His front presses into yours and you both moan into each other.

He trails kisses from your lips to the side of your face, down to your neck, his teeth nipping lightly, sucking into your skin, leaving marks behind, not really caring about how you’ll struggle to cover them tomorrow. You gasp into him and raise your hips, grinding into him without meaning to. The friction has him groaning into the skin of your neck.

His large hand grabs at the thickest part of your thigh, grabbing and pulling your covered cunt closer to his clothed dick. His hips dig down into yours, humping into you and trying to fight off the urge to cum in his pants at the minimal amount of stimulation.

He huffs against your sensitive skin, “Bet you’re so fucking wet, fuck–”

“Gojo–”

He cuts you off, “–Lemme… lemme touch you more, please.”

You nod at him, eyes glassy from how he kissed you, “Uh huh, do– do whatever you want~”

His hand is immediately leaving your thigh and reaching into the front of your pants, under your panties and through your dripping folds, a shiver running down his back as he groans deeply. He had a feeling you were wet but fuck– he wasn’t expecting this.

You sob a moan into the collar of his shirt where you’ve tucked your head, his fingers glide through your slick, teasing you, lightly grazing your clit.

His tone is light, “So eager~”

“Don’t t–tease, it’s unkind,” you try to chastise him.

He smiles at you, it’s dark but full, as a single finger probes at your entrance, slipping in carefully, aided fully by the amount of slick that gushes from your pussy, “So messy,” he hums, nosing the side of your face, giggling at the whimper you let out.

“Gojo–”

“–I think…” his finger slips to the hilt, pulling back before fucking back in, wet squelching sounding through your small apartment, “…I’ve earned Satoru, when I’m knuckles deep in your pretty, little cunt.”

If you thought you were hot before, you definitely were now, “Satoru, please.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that,” his cock jerks in his pants at the sound of you finally calling him by his name.

Your small gasps and sighs are setting his skin on fire, a light flush dusting his features, he still wants more from you, he wants to hear it all, he wants to feel it all, he wants to see it all. Deciding he’s had enough of your clothes, he slips his finger from deep in your cunt, which results in the prettiest, wrecked sound coming from you.

“Just a sec, need these off…” he tugs your pants down and off, leaving you in your panties, he hums in thought at you, “…These are cute,” he points out, looking at to the lacy garment decorating your lower half, “Expecting something to happen?”

You shake your head no, not loving the accusation that you planned this, “No, I just… didn’t have anything else…”

“Convenient,” he comments, taking notice of how completely ruined they are, wet from your arousal pooling in them. He pulls the side of them away from your skin, only to let it slap back against you, enjoying the way you squirm under him, “I think I’ll leave these on.”

He continues undressing you though, tugging off your shirt, your bra following along soon after. You feel so exposed compared to his fully dressed form. His cock strains against his pants though, sitting heavy against the zipper of his jeans. The sight makes you salivate but he takes no notice.

“I gotta get my mouth on you, pretty thing,” he murmurs more to himself than you, since you’re not really thinking at this point, only squirming under him and trying to rub your thighs together.

He shuffles down between your legs, spreading them apart further and tossing them over his shoulder. Drawing your panties to the side, he presses his face into your cunt, inhaling deeply, the act makes you jump and whinge out his name, shocked by the completely debauched display.

“Satoru~”

He doesn’t reply, not with words, he mumbles into your pussy and licks a long stipe from your hole to your clit before licking back down. His tongue pushing into your cunt with the desperation of a starved man. His nose presses against your clit and he moves his head side to side slightly, stimulating it.

You moan and whimper into the air, fingers finding purchase in his hair, needing something to tug onto while he eats you out in the messiest way possible. There is no finesse, he’s sloppily making out with your cunt, drinking down all the arousal that leaks from you eagerly.

Your thighs begin shaking beside his head and he holds you tighter, his head moving back and forth quickly, shaking it, trying to force your orgasm from you. The feeling of his blunt nails digging into your soft skin and the way he groans so unrestrained into your pussy has you cumming on his face very suddenly.

Your stomach twists as your cunt clenches around Gojo’s tongue, your mind lost in how good you feel. Not registering the sound of your moans or the sounds of his mouth lapping at you in the most lewd manner, it should be embarrassing how wet you are for him but you can’t seem to care when it feels this good.

He’s unrelenting, licking and mouthing at your sensitive pussy until you start twitching away from him and pulling on his hair harshly, wordlessly tell him it’s too much.

“Perfect,” he turns his face to the side and mumbles into your thigh, nipping at the skin, delighting in the way your body jerks, “Got an absolutely perfect cunt.” He says shamelessly.

“Gojo!”

He looks up at you through his lashes, “Ah, back to Gojo now?” he leans up and back onto his knees, tugging his shirt over his head and discarding it with the rest of your clothes, “No worries, I’ll fix that real soon.”

The sound of his belt clinking and zipper undoing brings you out of your thoughts, temporarily disarmed by the sudden exposure of his skin. He doesn’t bother taking them off completely, just shirking them down enough to free his painfully erect cock.

Your gaze gets lost in the sight of his dick, leaking thick globs of precum from the tip down his shaft. His hand tugging lazily at it, spreading his own mess everywhere, slicking it up for you. Wet sounds of his hand languidly fucking his cock makes your skin prick. How he’s going to fit you aren’t sure, the size of him is daunting.

He smiles when you look back in his eyes, “There she is.” He leans down over you, “I know I have a really nice dick but let’s try and stay focused, pretty, hmm?”

It’s condescending and egotistical of him to say but you can’t fight the shiver that runs down your spine at his words, “Gojo, you have a massive–”

“–Dick? Yeah I know,” he smiles cheekily at you.

You finish your previous interrupted statement, “I was gonna say ego.”

“Two things can be true at once,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, “You ready for this?”

“I don’t think I could ever be ready for this,” you retort.

“Way to boost a guys ego,” he chuckles at your comment.

You grab the side of his face, “Not that you need it.” You murmur before pulling him down for another kiss, missing the feel of his lips on yours.

He licks into your mouth straight away; you can taste yourself on his tongue. You feel like you could float away, not knowing how you’ve gone your whole life without being kissed like this. Your thighs are back on either side of his hips again, your need to be filled growing by the second.

Pulling back, he sits up so he can watch himself enter your tight pussy. He’s not denying himself this view, not when he’s imagined it so many times before. He rubs his cock through your folds a few times, relishing in your small jumps and moans. He needs it wet; it needs to be so fucking wet if he even dreams of fucking his cock all the way inside you.

“I’m gonna need you to relax for me and remember to breathe if you wanna take it all,” he says it so seriously, and if you hadn’t seen his dick you would’ve assumed he was just stroking his own ego for the sake of it.

You nod at him, “Got it, now please,” your hips wiggle slightly, enticing him.

“I got ya,” he smirks, pushing forward slightly.

The tip of him is a lot, your cunt stretching to take it, the ache dulled by the absolute messy state of your pussy and the thumb Gojo is pressing into your clit. He intakes a sharp breath at the snug fit of your cunt, his hips jerking forward mindlessly, a groan pulled from deep in him, while you whimper pathetically.

Your breath stutters and you’re struggling, grip on his cock impossibly tight, through gritted teeth, he reminds, “Hey, hey… breathe yeah? You gotta –fuck– you gotta breathe for me, pretty.”

Collecting yourself, you attempt to take deep breaths, they come out stuttered but the punishing grip you had on him eases, “Almost had me fucking cumming, geez…” he laughs lightly at it but he would’ve been beyond embarrassed if he came with only his tip inside of you, he’d never live it down.

“You can –hah– you can move,” you stammer out.

He double checks, “You sure?”

Your eyes are so wet and your voice is wrecked when you add, “Please.”

An evil smile takes its place on his face, “Why were you assigned to work with me?”

“Gojo, not now,” your words break off into a whine, you sound so pathetic, you do not have the upper hand here.

“Mmm? You want me to stuff you full? Tell me the reason,” he leans down slightly, cock slipping just that tiny bit more into you.

Ignoring him, your wrap your legs tighter around his waist and try fucking up onto him, it works for the one second that he lets it and then one of his large hands is reaching down and slamming your hips back into the couch cushions.

“Come on, pretty,” his breath wafts against the side of your face, his lips tickling your ear, “You really gonna waste time being stubborn?”

“You’re the stubborn one,” you argue.

He hums noncommittally, almost like you proved his point for him, “Come on, I can feel you fucking pulsing around me, just tell me what you did~”

“I– I… I didn’t listen to an order on a mission and almost got myself killed,” you pout out, breathing laboured.

He tsks at you, disapproving of your actions, “You really should be more careful,” he kisses beside your ear, “And listen to your seniors more.” It goes without saying that, that includes him. You suspect he’s mostly talking about himself; he has no respect for the current hierarchy.

“Gojo, you said you would–”

He tilts his head at you, “–I did but now knowing how reckless you were, I can’t help but want to punish you a bit more…”

Your waterline fills with tears at the frustration, your pussy fluttering on the barely two inches he has sat inside you, how he’s holding out so well you have no idea because you’re about to fucking cry.

Your voice is embarrassing to even your own ears, “Satoru, please, more.”

“Ah, well when you ask like that, how can I say no?” He’s acting as if he’s taking mercy on you and not like his dick didn’t twitch violently at you using his name again.

Slowly, he pushes into you, stopping every now and again to let you adjust and reminding you to just breathe through it. Something Gojo has realised is, your cunt is so reactive to him, the words he speaks, the hand he has on your hip, the kisses he presses into the side of your head, all of it has you spasming around him and every time you do, it feels like a gut punch to him.

It’s addictive and also world shattering, he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to last when he actually starts fucking into you. The little noises you make don’t help either, how on earth is he meant to last more than a minute inside you?

Eventually, he bottoms out, the both of you moaning at the relief, your legs nearly kick at the sensation of how deep inside you he is, “Satoru, move?”

He bites out, “Give me a second.” He’s fighting the primal urge to cum inside you right now.

You whine under him, hips twitching, using the minimal amount of space to grind your pelvis into his. Your pussy stutters around him at the stimulation on your clit and he groans loudly at it, his orgasm on the tip of his tongue.

He forces your hips down and still again, pinning you to the couch with his own, “You’re so impatient. Do you want this to be over now? You want me to cum after only being fully inside you for a minute?”

You shake your head at him, the feral look in his eyes making your stomach do flips, your pussy gushing around him.

He laughs dryly, “Fuck, I can’t do a single thing without turning you on more, huh?”

You look away from him, embarrassment reaching a new pique with that comment, “Not nice, Satoru.”

“Not a bad thing, pretty,” he noses your cheek, realising how he said it harshly without meaning it that way, “Huge compliment, knowing you react this way to me is fucking perfect but it also has me on the edge of finishing prematurely.”

Turning your head back to him, you look him in the eyes and he swears he sees heaven because you have tears trailing down your cheeks and your eyes are blown and wet and he’s gonna finish if he keeps looking at you. So, instead, he leans in and kisses you deep, getting lost in the taste and feel of your mouth.

The small reprieve helps and he begins thrusting his hips back and forth, his cock leaving and entering you with the most obscene noises he’s ever heard. It’s such a fucking mess, leaking out of you, down your thighs and onto your nice couch. And even if he really tried, he couldn’t give a fuck, not when your cunt is so slick and warm and wrapping around him like it was made for him.

The sounds you let out are cute but muffled against his mouth, he settles for swallowing them down but he’d really rather hear them loud and clear. You flutter around him so beautifully, everything you do is perfect to him and you laying here while he shoves you full of his fat cock is no different.

He pulls away from your lips to hear the noises you make for him, “Cute,” he comments offhandedly, not even sure if you hear the contents of his words. He only knows you hear his voice because your cunt clenches down on him at the sound.

You cry out to him, “S’toru~”

“Ah, you’re so fucking close aren’t you,” the smile on his face is huge and wolfish, excited to feel you cum all over him, looking forward to literally nothing else.

You try to verbalise it, “I– mm –mmph–”

“Go on, let yourself gush all over me, wanna fucking feel it, pretty,” his words are sharp against your ear.

His hips increase their pace, slamming down into you more forcefully, his pelvis grinding into your clit harshly. Your eyes cross into the back of your head, neck lolling back bonelessly, choppy, whimpered sounds leave you. Your fingers claw at his biceps, leaving behind angry marks. Gojo’s hands have a death grip on your hips, bruised marks will definitely be left behind in their wake.

A particularly sharp thrust and loud whine from Gojo has you cumming under him, your pussy gripping him tight as your cum leaks from you sloppily, his cock coated in it. Creamy ring left at the base of his cock as he continues thrusting mercilessly.

His abs pull taut, his resolve finally breaking now that he’d finally felt you finish on him, “Where you want it?”

“Inside, please Satoru,” your words are mumbled and breathy.

“Fuuuuuck.”

He’s lucky you said that because your words have him cumming on the spot, thick ropes of his cum being forced deep inside your little cunt. It leaks out around the base of him, even as he presses deep into you, his pelvis tight against yours, riding out his high by grinding into you slightly. The stimulation making your cunt jump around him as he hisses at the slight overstimulation he’s forcing himself into.

You both huff, gasping greedily for air after your intense highs, the room filled with nothing but silence and your haste breaths. Eventually, you both even out and lay there quietly, Gojo pressed against you with his cock still snug inside your pussy.

“Gojo, you’re heavy,” you tell him.

He laughs, “Right, sorry.”

Leaning back, he slowly pulls his dick from you, both hissing at it. His eyes are fixated on the way his cum slips from your hole, his heart hammering in his chest at the sight, obsessing over how hot it is that you took so much of him. He slips your panties back into place, letting them keep his cum inside you.

“You did so good,” he praises you suddenly.

It makes you feel bashful, “So did you…” you mumble out.

A loud laugh results from him, “Thank you,” he says, his eyes crinkled in a large smile.

Gojo cleans the pair of you up, tucking you carefully into your bed and holding you close as you fight to keep your eyes open, “Will you still be here when I wake up?”

“Do you want me to be?” He questions lightly, trying not to expect anything from you.

“…Yes, I’d like it a lot if you stayed, I think.” You admit shyly.

“Then I’ll be here,” he presses himself into you closer, enjoying the warmth radiating off of you.

You don’t think this was in your job description…

PLAGIARISM NOT CONDONED | REPOSTS NOT AUTHORISED

#gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojou x reader #gojou x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader smut #jjk x reader #visionwrites

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ssa-dado · 1 month ago

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16 - Sapphire

Aaron Hotchner x fem!teacher!reader Genre: fluff, but mostly whump and angst Summary: Hotch loses a significant bet to you, which triggers a visit to your apartment, where he is joined by his family. While there, Hotch picks up on your relaxed demeanor and her strong connection with his son, Jack. However, he also notices the absence of her engagement ring, leading to a deep conversation about your true desires and the life you're building with your fiancé, Peter. Warnings: heartbreak, mentions of CM cases (2X12, 2X15, 2X23)... why it’s always whumptober in this blog and never kinktober? Kind of unfair Word Count: 10.5k Dado's Corner: I'm so sorry. Feel free to send hate in my inbox or in the comments, I truly deserve it this time. @c-losur3 sorry for turning one of our brainstorming sessions in such a nightmare.

masterlist

That was the very first time Hotch had ever lost a bet against you… and it wasn’t even close.

You had finished the paperwork with time to spare, working steadily even in your own home office, while he was left scrambling to catch up. Over the years, the two of you had built a history of small wagers and playful bets, and though they never held any real stakes, this one was different. This one mattered more than any before.

It wasn’t about solving a case, or testing each other with some trivial challenge to see who could push themselves further. This time, it was about something deeper. For Hotch, it was about holding on, about keeping you close in a way that felt necessary, almost vital. The fear of losing you again, of watching you slip out of his life like you had once before, still lingered.

And it was about the electricity between you - the undeniable chemistry, the way you seemed to spark off one another when you worked together. He missed that energy, that connection that felt so natural, like you were in perfect sync.

He needed to win.

But he hadn’t.

Now, as Jack’s cries filled the car on the way to your apartment, the weight of that loss settled on Aaron, heavier than he expected. His hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, his jaw clenched in frustration. Haley, sitting next to him in the passenger seat, glanced back at Jack, her brow furrowed in concern. Jack’s wails were louder now, and every minute that passed seemed to make them sharper, more strained.

“Aaron,” Haley began, her voice calm but firm, “maybe we should cancel. Jack’s been upset all evening, and I don’t want to overwhelm him, or her.”

Aaron shook his head, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "No," he muttered, quieter than usual, almost as if he were trying to convince himself. "She insisted. She already has everything prepared, and I need to pick up those reports anyway."

Haley’s lips pressed into a thin line, unconvinced, but she let it go. She knew better than to push when Aaron was like this - focused, determined. "If you’re sure…" she murmured, though her eyes lingered on Jack, who was still squirming uncomfortably in his car seat, as the rest of the drive passed in tense silence, broken only by Jack’s occasional hiccuping sobs.

By the time they reached your apartment building, Jack’s cries had escalated to full-blown sobs. Haley cast him one last pleading look, her expression full of concern. “Aaron, really. We don’t have to do this tonight.”

But Aaron wasn’t ready to turn back. "No," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "It’s going to be okay. She’ll understand."

Haley sighed softly, holding back her reply as Aaron lifted Jack from the car seat, gently cradling him against his chest. Jack’s small fists clutched at the fabric of Aaron’s shirt, his tear-streaked face flushed from crying. He bounced him lightly, whispering soothing words, but the child remained restless.

As they approached the door, Aaron could hear your voice drifting through the hallway, warm and light as you called out to Peter. “Hun, could you grab the door, please? They should be here any minute!”

When Peter swung the door open, his usual flamboyant confidence softened in deference to Jack’s distress. He greeted Aaron with an easy smile and a firm pat on the shoulder. "Aaron, my man. And Haley, it’s so good to finally see you again," he said, his grin widening as he took her in. "You’re even more beautiful than I remember. Motherhood clearly made you glow even more."

Haley smiled warmly at him, her eyes crinkling at the compliment. "Thank you, Peter. Always the charmer. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?"

Peter’s gaze shifted to Jack, who was still fussing in his father’s arms. His expression softened with sympathy. "And this little guy must be Jack. Poor thing. Rough night, huh?"

"Yeah," Aaron replied, his voice heavy with worry as he bounced Jack gently. "He’s been restless all evening."

Peter stepped aside, waving them into the apartment. "Come on in, make yourselves comfortable. She’s just in the kitchen, pulling the focaccia out of the oven."

The moment they crossed the threshold, the rich, savory scent of freshly baked focaccia enveloped them – rosemary and olive oil mingling in the warm air. The apartment had an undeniable coziness, from the soft hum of classic rock music playing in the background. It was definetely a stark contrast to the high-pressure atmosphere of the BAU. Everything here felt softer, more lived-in, more… home.

Before Aaron could fully absorb the warmth of your cozy apartment, you appeared in the doorway like a quiet breath of ease, your presence soft and effortless. An apron hugged your waist, and oven mitts dangled from your hands, tangible proof of the care you’d woven into the evening.

Your hair, usually held in careful precision, was loosely gathered in a low ponytail, yet a few rebellious curls had slipped free, framing your flushed cheeks like gentle whispers of imperfection, stirred by the heat of the oven. Those small, defiant tendrils danced against your need for control, quiet reminders that not everything needed to be perfectly in place to feel right.

A faint dusting of flour trailed up your arm, adding to the charm of the scene, as if this place - this life - was made for comfort, for easing the burdens of the world outside.

The moment your eyes found them, your entire face lit up with a warm, welcoming smile, one filled with genuine happiness at seeing them.

It was the kind of smile that could make anyone feel at home, and after the long, tense evening, you were exactly the kind of comfort they all needed.

"Aaron, Haley! You made it!" you said brightly, hurrying over to greet them, still wearing the apron tied at your waist. "I’m so glad you’re here. Sorry, I’m a bit of a mess, been running around getting everything ready."

Aaron found himself momentarily caught off guard, taking in this unexpected side of you. You looked different - more relaxed, more at ease, and there was a warmth about you that felt… disarming. It was a side of you he wasn’t used to seeing, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond.

Before Aaron could say anything, Jack let out a soft whimper, and your attention immediately shifted to him. You stepped closer, your expression softening as you knelt down to his eye level, your voice warm and soothing. "Hey there, Jack," you murmured gently, the soft lighting around you adding to the calmness in your tone. "What’s going on, little guy? What’s got you so upset?"

Jack’s sniffling continued, his tiny fists clutching his stuffed pine marten tightly, his wide, teary eyes staring up at you. For a moment, it seemed like he might burst into fresh sobs, but then something shifted.

The moment he heard your voice, his breathing slowed, his cries softened. His wide gaze remained fixed on you, and Aaron could feel the change, too - he could feel the tension slowly melting away from Jack’s little body as he began to calm down.

You smiled softly at Jack, your touch featherlight as you gently brushed your fingers over the plush toy in his hands. "Oh, the kuna," you said with a soft chuckle, glancing up at Aaron with a teasing glint in your eyes. "You weren’t kidding when you told me this was his best friend, huh?"

Aaron let out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, the weight of the evening’s stress finally beginning to lift. Jack’s tears had stopped, his body visibly more relaxed in his arms. He offered you a small, grateful smile. “Yeah,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of relief and exhaustion. "He doesn’t go anywhere without it."

Haley, standing off to the side, watched the scene unfold with wide eyes, her surprise evident as she took in how quickly Jack had settled in your presence. "Wow," she breathed, her voice low, almost in disbelief. "I’ve never seen him calm down that fast… not with anyone but Aaron."

Jack, now much calmer, gazed up at you with wide, curious eyes, his small body melting fully against Aaron’s chest. His tight grip on his father’s shirt loosened, his fingers relaxing around the kuna. You reached out gently, wiping away the last of his stray tears with a tender touch, your smile comforting and soft. “There we go, little guy,” you whispered. “All better now, huh?”

Peter, who had been leaning casually against the doorway, watching the interaction unfold with a knowing smile, let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "You’ve got the magic touch, babe," he said, a teasing note in his voice, though the admiration in his eyes was real.

Peter crossed his arms, shooting Aaron a meaningful glance, his eyebrows raised. "Didn’t I tell you? She has a gift with kids."

Aaron, still processing how quickly Jack had settled down, offered a brief, tight smile, nodding slightly as his gaze flickered between you and Peter. Before he could respond, Peter’s expression softened, and he turned back to you with a more sincere smile. "You’d be such a good mom," he added, his voice full of affection.

For a moment, the comment hung in the air. You hesitated, the briefest flicker of emotion crossing your face before you waved it off with a casual smile. "Thanks, Peter," you said lightly, though there was a slight tremor in your smile that Aaron didn’t miss. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”

Peter chuckled softly, though the warmth behind his teasing was unmistakable. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.”

With that, the evening eased into a rhythm that felt unexpectedly comfortable. Dinner was light and full of conversation, the kind that once flowed effortlessly between you and Hotch when you worked side by side. Aaron found himself watching you throughout the meal- studying your movements, catching glimpses of the person he knew so well but with subtle changes that felt unfamiliar.

That’s when he noticed.

Your engagement ring - it wasn’t there.

At first, Aaron told himself it was nothing. You might have taken it off to cook, or maybe it was being cleaned. But the more he observed, the more that small detail began to gnaw at him. Each time you reached for a dish or gestured as you spoke, your hand moved effortlessly, with no absentminded fidgeting or reaching for the ring that wasn’t on your finger.

If you had just taken it off for cooking, you would feel the absence. He knew that. But you didn’t, and that unsettled him even more.

The absence of that ring started to weigh on him, a small but heavy knot in his chest.

Peter, still unaware, smiled at you from across the table as he finished his drink. “We’ve been talking about it,” he said, his tone casual but with an underlying seriousness. “Maybe it’s time we think about having one of our own, you know?”

The words hit Aaron like a punch to the chest.

Every time he’d seen Peter since that night at the bar, his conviction grew stronger: Peter wasn’t right for you. But Hotch’s face remained composed; years of masking his emotions had made him an expert at keeping his true feelings hidden. His jaw tightened slightly, but outwardly, he stayed calm, choosing instead to focus on your reaction, watching closely for any sign of how you really felt.

You deflected with ease, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you glanced at Jack, who was happily babbling, completely at ease. “Jack’s an angel,” you said, smiling warmly. “But I don’t think he looks a thing like his father.”

The table shared a brief laugh, including Haley, who leaned over to rub Jack’s tiny back affectionately. "He definitely has his own little personality," she said with a smile. "But sometimes, he has that same intense stare as Aaron."

But Aaron didn’t join in the laughter. He was too focused on you - on the way you had brushed off Peter’s comment, your laugh just a little too quick, your deflection a little too smooth. He’d seen it a few times tonight, how you dodged certain topics, especially whenever Peter mentioned anything about the future. Something was off, and Hotch couldn’t ignore the way it gnawed at him.

After a while, the conversation drifted, as it often did when you were involved, to philosophy. Your eyes brightened as you began to speak about Plato, a passion filling your voice that seemed to draw everyone in.

"Fun fact," you began, your voice soft but deliberate, a small smile playing at your lips, "Plato believed that the world we live in is only a shadow, a reflection of something far more perfect. Everything we see, everything we touch, it’s just an echo of its true essence."

You glanced around the table, your eyes lighting up as you continued. "Imagine love," you said, your voice growing more poetic, "the love we feel here in this world is beautiful, yes, but it’s fleeting, imperfect. It can break, it can fade. Plato thought there was an eternal, perfect form of love - pure, unchanging. A love that exists beyond us, untouched by time or pain, an ideal we can only glimpse in brief moments."

As you spoke, your words seemed to hang in the air, captivating the room. Aaron couldn’t help but watch you intently, remembering how your passion for philosophy had always been so infectious. Even though part of him had once joked about its "abstract nonsense," he couldn’t deny how your enthusiasm pulled him in.

He felt the weight of your words, particularly the way you described love - an ideal so perfect that it almost seemed unreachable, a reflection of something distant and far from the everyday struggles of life.

You paused, letting the thought settle before continuing. "What we see here - whether it’s a chair, a focaccia, or love itself - are just shadows of something greater, something more real. In Plato’s realm of forms, that perfect love is waiting, eternal and untouched. It's something we can strive for, something we can long for, but never fully possess."

Peter, leaning back in his chair with a grin, shook his head lightly. "Only you could make Plato sound like a romantic," he teased, though his voice held a certain warmth, clearly caught in the flow of your words.

You returned the smile but didn’t stop, a deeper reverence creeping into your tone. "In a way, he was a romantic. Plato believed our souls long for that perfection, for the beauty and truth that we can only find in glimpses here. Every love we feel, every connection we make, it’s just a reflection of something pure that exists beyond our reach. But it’s that longing, that striving for the ideal, that gives love its meaning. Without that yearning, what would love be?"

Your words trailed off as Aaron, now smirking to himself, leaned closer to Jack. With a playful, conspiratorial tone, he whispered softly, “Jack, she said Plato,” his grin widening. He watched Jack closely, half-expecting his son to remember their little “deal” - to cry on cue at the mention of those philosophical names.

But Jack didn’t cry.

Instead, he stared up at you with wide, mesmerized eyes, his tiny face full of wonder and curiosity. It was as though, in that moment, Jack understood every word you were saying. His focus was absolute, his gaze unwavering, as if your voice held the answers to questions far beyond his grasp. For a one-year-old, it was almost eerie how captivated he seemed, his little brow furrowed in concentration, as if he were pondering Plato’s theory of forms alongside you.

Hotch stifled a chuckle under his breath, shaking his head.

So much for their plan. Jack was clearly enchanted.

Noticing Jack’s fascination, you paused, your expression softening as you leaned slightly toward him, your voice gentle and warm. “Oh, are you interested in Plato, buddy?” you teased, your smile widening as you addressed him like he was the only person in the room. “Looks like we’ve got a future philosopher on our hands. Aaron, are you sure he’s your son?”

Haley burst out laughing, covering her mouth as she tried to contain her amusement, and Peter joined in, shaking his head with a playful grin. "You might need to get him a children’s book on philosophy at this rate," Peter added, glancing at Jack. "He’s already hooked.”

Without missing a beat, you and Aaron spoke at the exact same time, your voices overlapping in perfect unison. “Hegel for babies.”

The way you and him had responded in sync, without hesitation, brought a rush of nostalgia for him. It was like stepping back in time, reminding him of all the moments you’ve always shared especially at work, finishing each other’s thoughts, operating with an effortless rhythm that required no words. That connection, that familiar flow between you, was still there, ready to rise to the surface as if nothing had changed.

But something had changed.

Even as Aaron enjoyed the easy moment, his mind couldn’t let go of the puzzle forming around you and Peter. Throughout the night, he kept discreetly watching, searching for subtle signals - anything to explain the absence of your engagement ring.

Aaron’s eyes darted between you and Peter, watching your interactions closely. Was it strained? Were you keeping something hidden behind those well-rehearsed smiles? The more he observed, the deeper his suspicion grew. The playful banter with him felt easy, real, but with Peter, there was a distance, subtle but present.

---

After dinner, as Peter and Haley’s laughter echoed faintly from the living room, you led Aaron into your office to collect the files. The space between you was tense, charged with everything unspoken that had been simmering throughout the evening. As Aaron followed in silence, his mind churned, trying to reconcile the image of you with the life you said you wanted.

Then he saw it.

Your engagement ring.

Sitting on the desk, carelessly placed beside a stack of papers, as though it were something you had tossed aside without a second thought.

For a moment, Aaron said nothing, his eyes fixed on the small band. His heart sank as everything he’d been suspecting solidified. He had convinced himself earlier that maybe you had taken it off for some practical reason, but now, seeing it here, forgotten or abandoned - it wasn’t just off.

It was discarded.

His pulse quickened. He could no longer avoid the truth staring back at him.

“You know,” Aaron began softly, the weight of his words heavier than he anticipated, “even though I didn’t win the bet, the offer is still on the table.”

You glanced up sharply, startled by the quiet intensity in his voice. A flicker of something -uncertainty, fear - crossed your face before you could mask it.

Your hands gripped the edge of the papers on your desk, as if trying to ground yourself in the familiar. “Aaron, we’ve been through this,” you replied, your voice steady but not as confident as you intended. “Teaching at the academy... it’s the only way I can settle down. With Peter, I can finally have a normal life. It’s what I need.”

The words fell from your lips, practiced, deliberate - but hollow. Even as you said them, they felt rehearsed. There was a tremor beneath them, a quiver that Hotch could sense immediately.

He didn’t need to be a profiler to see the cracks forming.

He stepped closer, his eyes unwavering as he searched yours. “Is that what you really want?” His voice was gentle, but there was no mistaking the depth behind his question. He wasn’t asking for surface-level answers anymore. He was asking for the truth, the one you’d been avoiding, even from yourself.

You bristled at the question, standing taller as if the extra inches could shield you from the vulnerability creeping up on you. “Aaron, I’ve made my decision,” you said, more forcefully this time, crossing your arms over your chest, protecting yourself. “Teaching is a stable job. Peter and I... we can have a life together. A normal life. Isn’t that what everyone wants?”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating, as if the air itself had become too dense to breathe. Aaron’s gaze never left yours, piercing through the fragile facade you were clinging to. His eyes flicked down to the ring on the desk, lying there unwanted, untouched, as if even the symbol of this so-called “normal life” didn’t quite fit into the image you were trying to present.

And in that silence, he realized it fully: you were living a life constructed from rehearsed lines and half-truths. Your answer to him was almost identical to the one you had given earlier, only reworded, as if the questions he asked were catching you off guard, pushing you off the script you’d so carefully crafted.

Aaron would have let it slide if you’d been able to offer him some real, grounded reason for choosing teaching over the BAU. He might have accepted your words if you had taken a moment to explain why you needed distance from the relentless horrors of the cases, how the endless cycle of darkness had begun to wear on you, or even how teaching offered you a different kind of purpose, a safer way to make a difference.

But you hadn’t said any of that.

You hadn’t shared anything deeper.

It was as if you couldn’t bring yourself to commit to this life you claimed to want.

And then, of course, there was Peter.

If you’d taken a moment to talk about the life you were building together, if you had described it with real conviction - if you’d said that you wanted to marry him, that you wanted to have a family with him, that the ring lying unworn on the desk was a symbol of a future you were ready to embrace - maybe then Aaron would have believed you.

But you hadn’t.

Not now, and not at any point during the evening. Every time Peter was mentioned, every time the conversation grazed the topic of your future, you deflected. You laughed it off, offering vague, safe answers as if uttering anything more concrete might break the fragile illusion you had constructed for yourself. It was as though speaking those words aloud would make you confront a truth you weren’t ready to face.

You had spent the entire night avoiding anything real, anything that would force you to look at the choices you’d made, at the life you were building with Peter, and the pieces of yourself you were leaving behind.

If this life with Peter was truly what you wanted, then where was the passion, the excitement? Where were the words that could solidify the direction you were headed?

Every evasion, every empty laugh, only confirmed what Aaron already knew. This wasn’t the future you were running toward with open arms.

It was a future you were trying to convince yourself to accept.

The ring on the desk was more than just an oversight, it was a symbol of the disconnect between what you were choosing and what you truly wanted.

And he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“You hate your ring,” Aaron said quietly, his voice cutting through the thick silence that had settled between you. The words landed softly but cut through your defenses, each syllable chipping away at the fragile wall you’d so carefully built.

You stiffened, feeling the accusation burrow into you, your immediate response flaring with anger as you struggled to keep him from breaking through. “Excuse me?” you snapped, the words sharp, but your tone betrayed you, there was a quiver of uncertainty. You felt a wave of panic ripple through you as the walls closed in, as if the room itself were shrinking around you.

Aaron took a step closer, his gaze steady, his voice calm but laced with a gentleness that almost made his words sound like an offering. “You hate it,” he repeated, as if handing you a lifeline, as if he were daring you to take it. “And it’s not just because you took it off to cook or forgot to put it back on. You’ve been taking it off more and more, haven’t you? Because every time you look at it, every time you wear it, it feels… wrong.”

You forced a laugh, trying to brush it off, to slip back into that casual, deflective tone that had worked so well all evening. “Aaron, it’s just a ring-”

“No, it’s not,” he interrupted, his voice firmer, yet still soft, his gaze holding yours, unwavering. He took another step closer, so close now that you could see the resolve etched into his face, the sadness lingering in his eyes. “I don’t believe that. I don’t believe a single word of what you just said.”

Your breath caught, the air suddenly thick, pressing down on you as his words struck deep. His expression softened, his voice dropping almost to a whisper, yet it carried a quiet strength that made you feel exposed, vulnerable.

“It’s not just a ring to you,” he said, his tone so gentle it nearly unraveled you. “Nothing is ever ‘just something’ with you. You find meaning in everything. That’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you. It’s the way you look at the world, every little thing matters. You give meaning to things others would overlook, sometimes things they’d never notice. You find depth where others would only see the surface.”

You felt his words dig into you, reaching parts you had tried to bury beneath practicality, beneath a life you had convinced yourself you wanted. He wasn’t letting you hide, wasn’t letting you deflect with empty words or rehearsed responses.

“Even tonight,” he continued, his voice taking on a quiet, reflective tone. “When you spoke about Plato, about the meaning of love through his forms, you weren’t just talking about philosophy. You were talking about yourself. You said the love we feel in this world is a shadow, a reflection of something perfect we can never fully reach. You spoke of it as if you were making excuses for why your love with Peter could be flawed, imperfect, why it could never be what you long for deep down. It was like you were giving yourself permission to settle for less than what you truly want.”

His gaze held you, steady and unyielding, and you felt your defenses slipping, cracking under the weight of his words. He took a breath, and you could see the intensity in his eyes, the way he was letting his own walls down, the way he was stepping into a vulnerability he hadn’t allowed himself in years.

“I’m not a philosopher, I will never be a philosopher,” he said softly, his voice carrying a depth of sincerity that felt like a confession, “but I remembered every word. And I couldn’t agree more when you said that it’s the longing, the striving for the ideal, that gives love its meaning. You said it yourself, ‘Without that yearning, what would love be?’ So tell me-”

He continued, his voice steady, yet filled with a quiet urgency, “are you really reaching for something true, something that reflects that ideal, or are you just convincing yourself to accept a love that’s flawed because you think that’s all you’re going to get? Are you settling for something safe because it’s easier than admitting you might want something more?”

He paused, his words hanging heavily in the air, his eyes searching yours, cutting through every excuse, every half-truth you’d told yourself. “I know you, and I know that nothing is ever ‘just something’ to you. Not love, not life, not death and certainly not this ring.”

Your hands trembled slightly, and you quickly folded them over your chest, your gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t want to talk about this,” you whispered, the words barely audible, but the trembling in your voice betrayed the flood of emotions swelling up, threatening to break through.

But Aaron didn’t stop.

He saw the tiny cracks forming, the way you were beginning to buckle under the weight of the truth. He recognized it - the way someone’s guard began to fall when they were too close to a truth they weren’t ready to confront. He had seen it so many times before, sitting across from suspects, unsubs. But this time, it was you, and that difference made this moment more personal, more agonizing than any interrogation he’d ever conducted.

He softened his tone, but his words were as precise and cutting as ever, his profiler instincts turned on you, searching, pushing. “You took it off because it’s become something foreign to you. ” he continued, the words gentle but relentless. “It’s been weighing you down ever since that night at the bar, when Peter overstepped your boundaries.”

The room felt impossibly small as his words hung between you. The memory of that night surged forward - Peter’s laughter, his casual dismissal of your privacy, turning it into something public, something you hadn’t even shared with the people closest to you. He had humiliated you, and you had buried the hurt because that’s what you always did.

“Aaron, stop-” you pleaded, your voice shaking.

But he pressed on, the profiler in him pushing past the walls you had built. “He outed you in front of the team. In front of people who, at that point, were practically strangers to you. For a story. And you didn’t confront him about it, did you? You let it go, just like you’ve been letting so many things go.”

You felt the weight of his words press down on you, your breath coming in shallow bursts as you turned away from him, gripping the back of your chair, desperate for something solid, something to hold onto. “We talked about it,” you said, but even to your own ears, the words sounded hollow, a poor attempt at keeping the cracks from widening.

“No, you didn’t,” Aaron countered, his voice low but unyielding, filled with quiet conviction. “You accepted his apology because it was easier than having the fight you needed to have. And honestly, Peter didn’t even know why what he did was wrong, did he? I had to point it out to him when we were alone at the bar, otherwise, he wouldn’t have noticed. He wouldn’t have realized how deeply he crossed your boundaries, how it made you feel. And now you’re standing here trying to convince yourself that this” he gestured toward the ring on the desk, discarded like something forgotten "is fine. That it’s just a piece of jewelry. But it’s not, and you know that.”

You felt the burn of frustration bubbling up inside you, your composure slipping, but it wasn’t just anger anymore. Beneath the frustration, there was a raw, unspoken hurt that you had kept buried for too long. It was beginning to surface, clawing its way to the forefront, and you couldn’t stop it. “Aaron, you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” you bit out, your voice sharp with desperation, your hands tightening into fists.

But Hotch didn’t back down. He stepped closer, his voice steady, yet full of conviction, a quiet determination that refused to let you retreat. “I know you better than you think,” he said, his eyes softened, but there was still that relentless force behind his words, the same precision he used when interrogating someone, when he was peeling back layers to get to the truth. “I’ve known you for years. I’ve watched you. I know how you move through the world, how you give meaning to things, how you choose things carefully, with intention. I know that Peter gives gifts that are meant to impress people, not you.”

You blinked, feeling your throat tighten further as you fought to hold back tears, but Hotch kept going, his words unraveling every defense you had put up.

He gestured toward the ring, his gaze unwavering, holding yours with a quiet intensity. “That ring? A thin band to make the stone look bigger than it is. -

It’s flashy.

It draws attention, but it’s not elegant.

It’s not thoughtful. -

It’s not you. You would have never chosen that ring for yourself. It doesn’t fit your style - yours is subtle, refined, timeless. You wear things that hold meaning, things that blend seamlessly into who you are. You need something sturdy, something with a thicker band, something that won’t get in the way because you use your hands every day.”

He took a step closer, his words steady, unraveling each piece of the life you’d convinced yourself you wanted. “You’re always writing, always creating, whether it’s notes for your students or lesson plans, or even cooking for yourself at home. You never thought you’d have time for hobbies, but now you’ve found them. You’ve grown, and you need something that can grow with you. He didn’t think about that, about how your hands are more than just hands. They’re an extension of you, of how you express yourself, how you care for others. You pour yourself into everything you do, with a quiet grace that’s always been there and that I’ve always loved about you.”

Hotch’s voice softened, though the conviction in it remained. “We’ve exchanged letters for years - six, to be exact. I’ve watched how, in those letters, your handwriting changes. I know when you let the ink smudge, it’s because the topic is close to you, and you can barely keep up with the pace of your thoughts. You don’t just write; it’s a way for you to let your true feelings flow, to put something of yourself onto the page. You need a ring that reflects that, one that fits the life you’ve built - not something that just looks good, not something that’s just there to be seen.”

His voice softened as he stepped closer still, his gaze locked on yours, searching your face. “That ring, it’s not practical for you. And Peter didn’t even think about that, did he? He didn’t think about how you would wear it every day, how you would feel with it on your finger. He chose something that would look impressive to other people, not something that would make you feel at home in it. And it’s not even your favorite stone, is it?”

You froze, your breath catching in your chest as his words hit you harder than you were prepared for. Your heart pounded in your ears, the weight of the truth pressing down on you, suffocating.

“You don’t even know what my favorite stone is,” you whispered, your voice so quiet, so fragile it barely broke the silence. The words were almost a plea, a final attempt to keep some distance between you and the truth he was forcing you to face.

“Yes, I do.” Aaron’s voice was soft, but the conviction in it was unshakeable.

“It’s sapphire.

Dark blue.

The exact shade of the ink you’ve used for years, the ink you wrote every single letter to me with.”

Your heart stuttered, the breath catching in your throat as his words hit something deep inside you, a place you hadn’t let anyone reach in a long time. You felt your hands tremble, and for the first time that night, you truly looked at him - saw him in a way you had been avoiding all evening.

His gaze was locked on yours, steady, relentless, and beneath the surface of his calm, you saw something raw. Something vulnerable. It was a part of him you hadn’t allowed yourself to see for years.

He wasn’t finished. His voice softened, like he was admitting something that had been buried inside for too long. “That color… it’s the only color you allowed yourself to have, especially at work. I’ve never seen you wear anything but black, except for the day you gave that guest lecture in Quantico. You showed up at the BAU afterward, after all those years of just exchanging letters, and you were wearing a light blue shirt.” His eyes flickered, a ghost of a memory crossing his face. “That’s when I realized. You used that color, blue, for everything that mattered. Everything personal. You made sure to keep it close to you, like it was a part of who you are.”

Your throat tightened, emotion pressing down on your chest like a heavy weight, and you couldn’t stop the memories from flooding back.

“Even when I gave you the anniversary pen,” Hotch continued, stepping closer, his gaze never wavering from yours, “the one I bought for you to commemorate the 200th day you failed to beat me to the office - you didn’t use it once for your everyday reports, did you? After a while, I noticed the ink in the pen was lighter than what you usually used. It wasn’t your blue.”

You swallowed hard, your voice failing you as he kept going, each word peeling back a layer of your defenses.

“But you still wrote with it,” Hotch said, taking another step toward you. “Maybe not for everything, but for the things that really mattered. Like my wedding speech… you wrote that with the pen I gave you. And it ran out of ink right at the last sentence. But you didn’t throw it away, even when it ran dry, did you?”

He glanced at the pen sitting on your desk, displayed carefully like an artifact from another time. His voice dropped, almost reverent. “It’s still here. You kept it, not because of its value, not because of how it looks, but because of what it represents. That pen means something to you, something personal.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle, and then his eyes flickered to the engagement ring sitting on the desk, gleaming in the dim light. “But that ring? It doesn’t mean the same thing to you, does it? You don’t keep it with the same care, the same tenderness. It doesn’t feel personal. It doesn’t feel like yours.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you were frozen, unable to move as his words sunk in. How had he noticed? How had he known? You had never consciously thought about it, but it was true. The color blue, it was the only piece of yourself you allowed into the world. It was a quiet reflection of who you were.

Dark blue ink.

A light blue shirt.

And now, with that ring, none of it felt right.

“What do you think you’re doing, Aaron?” Your voice wavered, your tone fragile and desperate as you tried to find solid ground beneath you. The weight of the conversation pressed down on you like a vice, tightening with every word he spoke. “Why are you saying all of this?”

Hotch stepped even closer, his voice filled with something heavy, something undeniable. “Because I care about you. Because I want you to be happy, just like you told me once, years ago. You told me I deserved happiness, and now it’s my turn to say it to you. You won’t be happy with Peter. Not really.”

His words hit you like a blow, knocking the air from your lungs. You swallowed hard, trying to push the emotions back down, trying to keep your voice steady. “You can’t talk to me about my happiness, Aaron. You’ve found yours. You have Haley, you have Jack. You don’t get to tell me what will or won’t make me happy.”

Aaron’s expression darkened, an intensity flickering in his eyes that took you off guard. His voice dropped, and it was filled with an emotion you hadn’t seen in him in years, something raw and unguarded. “Is that what you really think? That I have it all figured out? Do you want to know why I care so much about you being truly happy? Why I can’t bear to watch you waste your life with someone who doesn’t see you? You really want to go there now?”

You straightened, your defenses rising, your voice sharp as you threw the challenge back at him. “Yes, I do.”

The room fell into a tense, charged silence, a storm of unspoken words swirling between you, years of carefully avoided feelings suddenly laid bare. The air felt thick, heavy with everything you’d both been too afraid to say. And then, quietly, Hotch spoke the words that would change everything, words that broke through every wall you had built, that shattered the careful balance you had clung to for so long.

“I loved you.”

The words lingered, quiet yet devastating, tearing through you with a force that left you breathless. You could feel your heart splinter, every emotion you’d tried to bury rising to the surface, raw and exposed. You had spent so long convincing yourself that he had moved on, that you had made the right choice all those years ago. But here he was, laying everything bare, pulling back the curtain on a truth you hadn’t allowed yourself to imagine.

But he wasn’t finished.

“I loved you,” Aaron repeated, his voice soft, almost broken, like a man confessing to something he’d kept buried for too long. "I’ve loved you for years.”

The silence between you was deafening, the only sound your ragged breath as the weight of his words settled in your chest like a heavy stone. The pain that had been festering for years, the doubts, the regrets, they all surged to the surface at once. And before you could stop yourself, the words came spilling out, raw and trembling.

“You loved me?” you breathed, disbelief trembling on your lips before it hardened into something sharper. Years of hurt and anger bubbled up, mixing with the grief you’d buried for so long. “You loved me?”

Aaron’s eyes searched yours, and you saw the flicker of pain, the vulnerability in his gaze. But it wasn’t enough. Not after everything.

“You want to talk about love, Aaron?” Your voice cracked, the weight of eight years of silence breaking apart, spilling out as though you couldn’t contain it any longer. “The reason I took that job abroad was because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I needed to run from you, from us. I left everyone I knew, everything I loved, and threw myself into a life where I had to start over, day after day. I thought that maybe if I was far enough away, if I was alone enough, I could forget what we could have been. That maybe, somehow, I could leave all the ‘what-ifs’ behind. But it didn’t work. It never worked. It just made it hurt worse.”

Aaron flinched, his face tight with pain, absorbing each word like a fresh wound, but you pressed on, the anger burning in your chest, spilling over.

“And do you know what the worst part was?” Your voice cracked, thick with emotion. “It was your letters, Aaron. -

I lived only to read your letters.

They were my lifeline. Every time I saw your handwriting, it was like being reminded all over again of what we could have had. I read them over and over, hoping that maybe they’d help me remember why I’d made this sacrifice in the first place. But they only made it worse. Every letter, every single one, was a reminder of what I’d lost. And all I could think was, what did we really gain? What did all of this sacrifice really bring us?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, the words pouring out, your voice rough with unshed pain. “I loved working at the BAU. I built my entire life around it, Aaron. That job was my purpose, and I left it because of you. I spent years in Europe, moving from one city to the next, trying to outrun everything that reminded me of us. But as soon as I felt at home somewhere, it would all come flooding back - the memories, the regrets. I’d lie awake at night, wondering what we’d lost, what we’d thrown away. And then, eventually, I stopped. I had to stop. I couldn’t keep living on the hope of what might have been. That’s when I let Peter in, when I started to believe that maybe I could make a new kind of happiness. Not the one I’d dreamed of, but a real one, grounded and steady.”

Hotch’s expression shattered, but you didn’t stop.

You couldn’t.

“You think you know what love is?” you spat, your voice trembling. “I loved you more than I loved myself. I tore myself apart for you because I thought you’d be better off. I walked away because I wanted you to be happy, and I’ve never regretted it, I would choose your happiness over mine, every time. So don’t you dare stand here, six years later, and tell me you loved me. I’m over you, Aaron. I’ve been over you, for a long time now.”

Hotch looked as though he had been struck, his face etched with anguish, and for a moment, it seemed like he might crumble. His voice, when he finally spoke, was rough, barely above a whisper. “You loved me that much… and you just walked away?”

“Yes,” you continued, your voice hoarse with emotion. “I loved you enough to let you go. Now, Aaron, it’s your turn. Let me go.”

Hotch’s face crumpled, the pain in his expression morphing into something raw, almost desperate. His voice rose, his frustration breaking through, spilling out in waves. “But you’re still living a lie! You sacrificed yourself for me, and now you’re doing the same with Peter. You’re going to settle for a life that doesn’t make you happy because you think it’s what you need? You deserve more than this!”

The anger surged up, hot and fierce, and you stepped closer, your eyes flashing. “You don’t get to tell me what I deserve. You think Peter is less? You think I don’t know what I’m doing? I made my choice, Aaron. I’ve built a life with him, and you don’t get to judge that.”

He shook his head, his voice rough and bitter, the frustration rolling off him in waves. “He doesn’t know you like I do. He doesn’t see you the way I do. He doesn’t know how your mind works, how you pour yourself into everything you do, how you can’t sit still in a world that asks for mediocrity. You were never meant to live a quiet life in some corner of the world, pretending to be content with something less. You’ve always needed more. You deserve more.”

His voice thickened with emotion, his gaze hardening as if the truth of his words hurt him as much as it hurt you. “You deserve someone who understands that. Someone who knows you’re not the type to settle. You need someone who’s willing to love you fully, the way you deserve - someone who can see the fire in you and fan it, not extinguish it. Peter doesn’t see that in you. He can’t give you that.”

Aaron’s voice cracked, his frustration spilling into something closer to anguish. “You deserve someone who’s willing to love you as fiercely as I did back then, someone who truly understands how much you’re worth and knows the lengths you’ll go to just to be understood. You deserve someone who sees the way you challenge the world, who knows how hard you fight, and respects every bit of that fire in you.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his voice breaking with the weight of what he was saying. “You were strong enough to walk away all those years ago, to tear yourself apart so that I could have the life you thought I deserved. And if you were brave enough to do that, then you should be strong enough now to stop lying to yourself. You’re pretending, trying to convince yourself that settling with Peter is what you want. But it’s not who you are, and it never will be. You’re not the type to choose a life that asks you to be less than everything you’re capable of being.”

He took a breath, his eyes dark, intense, his voice a mix of longing and frustration. "I know you. Better than you know yourself right now."

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you forced yourself to stay steady, your voice low, laced with fury. “You think you’re better than Peter because you didn’t overstep my physical boundaries? You’re wrong, Aaron. Right now, you’re worse, you’re overstepping my emotional boundaries - I asked you to stop but you didn’t listen, not even once. You lost the right to tell me how to live my life the moment we walked away from each other. If you can’t respect that, if you can’t let me go, then I’ll make sure to erase myself from your life.”

His face crumpled, his hands trembling at his sides, his entire body taut with the force of everything he was holding back. He looked like he was going to break, like he was fighting a battle that he knew he was losing. He took a step back, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted you to be happy,” he choked out, his eyes meeting yours, raw, vulnerable. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

His words tore through you, unraveling something deep inside. You saw the sincerity in his gaze, the desperation, the sadness. He looked at you one last time, his eyes lingering as if trying to memorize everything, his face filled with a pain that was almost unbearable to witness.

Finally, he turned to the door, his movements stiff, almost mechanical. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, his back to you, and for a moment, you thought he might turn around, that he might say something else, that he might reach out, one last time, to change everything. But he didn’t.

“If that’s what you want,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “If you want me to let go, them -

I’ll let you go.”

---

Hotch hadn’t heard from you since that night.

The night that left him feeling hollow, stripped bare like a man exposed to a storm he’d never anticipated.

He replayed the words you’d spoken, over and over, each one twisting deeper like a knife, carving wounds he had no way of healing. You’d been his last constant, the one person who had seen him fully, who had known the side of him he kept hidden from everyone else.

Now, you were truly gone, more distant than you had ever been, even when the Atlantic had separated you. There would be no more letters, no careful, handwritten notes, no familiar roughness of paper bearing your looping, blue-inked script, only the echoes of what you’d shared, remnants of a partnership and friendship torn away from him.

And the pain of losing you was so much deeper because you were the one person he never thought would leave.

He was already disappointing Haley on the daily basis, failing to be the husband she deserves as he chose the demands of his work over the family they’ve always dreamed of. The guilt over Jack haunted him daily - the missed milestones, the countless nights he’d spent in hotel rooms instead of by his son’s side.

He had come to accept that his choices had cost him more than he’d ever anticipated, that his absences had created a rift in his family he could never fully mend. But you… you were the one person he’d believed would always stay, the one person who had somehow seen past the darkness and chosen to stand beside him.

And now, you had stepped away too.

The realization struck him with a weight so heavy it almost brought him to his knees. You, who had known him better than anyone, who had been his friend, his confidant, his solace through all of it, were now just a memory.

In some ways, it felt like the final blow, the one that shattered whatever hope he’d clung to that he might still have someone by his side who truly understood.

You had been his last anchor, and without you, he felt adrift, more alone than he ever had before. The pain of it made everything else - the failures, the regrets - seem even sharper, a brutal reminder that he had pushed away the very people who had mattered most.

And now, there was no going back.

With you gone, the work was all he had left to cling to.

But every moment he spent trying to bury himself in case files and late-night profiles only reminded him of what he’d lost. More and more, he found himself imagining how different things might have been if you had stayed - if that night, instead of saying goodbye, you’d agreed to return to the BAU, to stand by his side once more.

How the team would have flourished with your presence, how your calm confidence and unyielding strength would have held them together, even as they all faced their own private battles. And how he, too, would have found a sense of solace, knowing that his partner, his confidant, his best friend, his lost love was there to share the burdens he carried.

In the months since you left, Hotch had watched his team begin to fracture.

Derek, always the strongest among them, had been forced to confront the ghosts of his past. Hotch saw the hurt in Derek’s eyes, the way he hid behind a mask, shielding himself from those who reached out to help. Hotch had tried to be there, to offer words of comfort, but each time he spoke, he felt the words fall flat, hollow, unable to bridge the distance between them.

He knew you would have known what to say, that you would have sat beside Derek and quietly drawn him out, helping him face his pain. Nights after, Hotch would lie awake, wishing he could call you, just to hear your voice, to ask you what he should do.

But he couldn’t.

You weren’t there to reassure him, to guide him, to help him carry the weight he so often bore alone.

And now, you would never be there again for him.

Then there was Reid.

He would never forget the hollow look in Reid’s eyes after his abduction, the way he seemed almost lost, his usual sharp mind clouded with a fear and vulnerability that shattered Hotch’s heart. Reid had always been their anchor, his intellect a shield against the horrors they faced. But that shield had cracked, and Hotch found himself struggling to help Reid rebuild, to provide the guidance Reid so desperately needed.

He knew you would have understood Reid’s pain in a way Hotch simply couldn’t. He could picture how you’d take Reid aside, your quiet, wise words full of empathy, your presence soothing the rawness of his wounds. You would have known exactly what to say, using your own intellect to help rebuild his, weaving in those philosophical insights Reid cherished so much. You had a way of reaching him, grounding him with calm understanding, and speaking to him on a deeper, metaphysical level that only you could.

Without you, Hotch felt helpless, as though he were failing the very people he’d promised to protect.

And then there was Gideon.

Watching Gideon unravel had been like staring into a mirror, reflecting a grief Hotch knew all too well.

Gideon, the man who had faced countless horrors, who had weathered storms that would have broken anyone else, had finally crumbled under the weight of his own loss. Frank’s cruelty had robbed him of Sarah, just as Hotch had been robbed of you. He could see himself in Gideon’s brokenness, could feel the pain that Gideon bore in silence, the same pain that now echoed in his own heart.

You and Gideon had both been his beacons, the ones who had filled the shadows with a light he clung to, and now, with both of you gone, he was left to navigate the darkness alone.

He was left to stumble through the darkness, to fight battles he was no longer sure he could win, knowing that the one person who had truly known him, who had quietly loved him even when he couldn’t love himself, was gone.

Each case, each crime scene was a reminder of all the moments you’d shared, of the life you’d built together, only to watch it crumble. He clung to the hope that somehow, some way, he could find you again, that the life you’d left behind would come back to him. But deep down, he knew that hope was just another ghost, haunting him, whispering of things that might have been.

And now, standing in Strauss’s office, the weight of it all pressed down on him, so heavy he thought it might break him. He met her gaze, the sharpness in her eyes a harsh reminder of everything that had fallen apart.

She watched him, waiting for him to justify himself, to justify the team that had become the only thing he had left.

He could see the doubt in her eyes, the calculation. She saw him as a man on the verge of failure, and she wasn’t wrong. But she didn’t know the cost, didn’t know what it had taken for him to keep standing.

"As your superior, I am questioning your ability to lead your team.”

He took a breath, summoning every ounce of strength he had left. His voice was steady, but beneath it lay a trembling, a fragility that betrayed just how close he was to breaking. “My team?” he said, a hint of defiance hardening his tone. “Let me tell you about my team.”

He thought of Derek, his mind flashing to that moment in Chicago, the pain etched into his friend’s face, the way he’d borne the burden alone because he didn’t trust anyone enough to share it. “Agent Morgan fought to protect his identity from the very people who could save him - why? Because trust has to be earned, and there are very few people he truly trusts.”

He paused, a bitter taste in his mouth as he remembered how he’d failed, how he hadn’t been able to reach Derek in the way he needed. You would have. You would have known how to ease his pain.

“Reid’s intellect is a shield which protects him from his emotions,” he continued, his voice softening, a raw edge creeping into it as he pictured Reid’s broken expression, the hollow look that haunted his eyes. “And at the moment, his shield is under repair.”

Hotch’s chest tightened. Reid’s pain had become his own, a constant reminder of the fragility he’d seen in you, the way you’d fought to rebuild yourself when you’d come back from the edge. You would have been there for Reid. You would have known what to say. But now, without you, Hotch felt helpless, standing by as the people he cared about struggled to hold themselves together.

“Prentiss overcompensates because she doesn’t yet feel she’s a part of the team.” A flicker of pride crossed his face as he spoke of her, her fierce determination, her unyielding loyalty. “She needn’t worry.” He thought of how hard she worked, how much she wanted to belong. He knew you would have recognized it in her, would have encouraged her the way only you could.

He forced himself to continue, his voice growing firmer, even as the sadness in his chest grew heavier. “Every day, Agent Jareau fields dozens of requests for our team. And every night, she goes home hoping she’s made the right choices.” He thought of JJ’s quiet strength, the way she carried the weight of her decisions, never letting it show how much it cost her. He knew you would have admired her resolve, would have understood the strength it took to keep going.

“Garcia fills her office with figurines and color to remind herself to smile as the horror fills her screens.” He thought of Garcia’s laugh, the way she fought to keep the darkness at bay with her light. You would have seen the courage in her, would have understood that her joy was her shield, the way she protected herself from the horrors she witnessed every day.

But it was Gideon’s pain that hit him hardest, and he struggled to keep his voice steady as he spoke of the man who had once been his mentor.

“And Agent Gideon… In many ways, he is damned by his profound knowledge of others. Which is why he shares so little of himself, yet he pours his heart into every case we handle.” Hotch remembered the look in Gideon’s eyes, the emptiness that had consumed him since Sarah’s death. He had seen the same hollowness in himself, the same agony of losing someone you had let into your heart. Gideon had been undone by it, just as Hotch had been undone by you.

He straightened, meeting Strauss’s gaze with a fierce determination. “I stand by my actions, and I stand by my team. And if you think that you can find a better person for the job, good luck.”

Strauss’s expression remained cold, her eyes narrowing. She leaned forward, her voice a sharp blade, cutting through his defenses. “Agent Hotchner,” she said, her tone clipped.

Hotch’s response was immediate, his voice a quiet, simmering intensity. “How do I know you favor your son? I’m good at my job.”

He knew he was good at his job.

He had to be.

It was the only thing he had left, the one thing he could control in a world that felt like it was slipping away.

He’d lost you, just as he had lost so much.

But he wouldn’t lose this.

He couldn’t.

---

Dado's Corner pt.2: I always read this whenever my heart gets broken... To build something meaningful, sometimes we have to tear down the entire house and rebuild from the foundation up.

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @kyrathekiller ; @lorereid ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @todorokishoe24

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader

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chaos-in-deepspace · 11 days ago

Text

LADS Zayne: I Knead You | SFW

This was just a quick writing warm up, because I was playing the event (has no spoilers in here) and I just...give Zayne a pet cat. He deserves one. The title is from a song my friend shared with me when I was trying to come up with what to call this.

(Also sorry if there's typos, they're paid actors)

❧ Pairings: Zayne x Reader ❧ Warnings: None ❧ Synopsis: You come home, and you brought home a new addition to your little family with Zayne. ❧ Word Count: 1.3k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Zayne

I Knead You

It wasn’t often that Zayne found himself getting concerned by something you did. For the most part, he was used to your antics. You would always do something to keep him on his toes, and it brought a sense of excitement to his life. Today, however, was bringing more concern than any other emotion.

It was as though the moment he said, “Welcome back,” he found himself regretting it. Watching as you walked backward into the home with something in your hands made him wonder what you did. The way your shoulders had also tensed up wasn’t doing much, and then the gentle ‘meow’ from your arms solidified in his head, which is precisely why you had come home so late today.

“What’s in your hands?” Zayne said with a sigh, already knowing the answer but needing you to confirm it.

“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to be mad.” You said, not turning around just yet. You were facing away from him with the creature firmly pressed against your chest as if trying to keep it calm and quiet.

“I won’t get bad, but I make no promises on being disappointed in your actions.” He said, a ghost of a smile already on his lips. You were acting like a child right now who did something they definitely weren’t supposed to do. You were aware of this as well, but you honestly had a feeling if you had straight up asked him to do this, he’d say no. If he had seen it in your arms already, the chances of keeping the creature would have been higher.

In truth, you had already spoken to Yvonne about the situation, and she claimed she had been thinking about getting a cat. You had asked her if Zayne says no to keep it and if she’d be willing to. Of course, she said yes, excited about the prospect, and if Zayne happened to be fine with keeping a new pet, then she’d just go out and get her own, and you would set up kitty play dates.

“Okay, see, I think being disappointed is ten times worse, but I think that’s the best imma get out of you so…” You finally turned around to show Zayne the orange tabby in your arms. The small cat let out a confused ‘mew’ noise as it looked around the nice house. Zayne took a moment to stare and shook his head, letting out a small sigh.

“If you had wanted a cat, we could’ve discussed it.” He said, already standing up from his spot on the couch. He placed his laptop on the coffee table as he got closer to you. The cat in your arms is wriggling a bit at hearing someone and smelling the subtleness of Zayne’s aftershave in the air. It was clear the man had been ready for bed, wearing some pajamas with his hair still slightly damp; he had been waiting for you to come home, “We don’t even have cat supplies.”

“Oh see, that’s where you’re wrong.” You said with a chuckle. Zayne looked confused for a moment as you placed the little fur ball into his arms. The cat immediately began curling into him, nuzzling its face against his chest as if Zayne had always been its owner. “Come, follow.” You said, and Zayne found himself doing just that, following you through his own house to the guest bedroom he had set up.

When you opened the door, he saw a variety of cat supplies: toys, a bed, a few cat trees, treats, and food. Of course, he hadn’t checked the guest room; he never had a reason to, judging by how it was rare for a guest to say the night. It used to be for you, but you had long since evolved in your relationship and now shared the same room.

“What brought this on?” He said he was going to pet the cat. The small tabby began batting at his hand as if he were playing with it, and he found himself going alone, moving a finger around for his paws to tap at it. He was a bit surprised when it didn’t try to use its claws on him, and it even seemed comfortable being in his arms.

“Well…after that photo shoot last month, I just thought…maybe it was time to expand the family.” You said with a subtle blush. You and Zayne weren’t married, not by a long shot, but you acted like a married couple of 20 years most of the time. So, of course, you had thought of the two of you as a small family at this point. Zayne’s eyes widened a bit in surprise before going back to the usual, relaxed demeanor he had around you.

“So this has been on your mind for a while then?” he asked, slowly letting the cat down onto the floor. The small tabby began wandering off into the room, probably to explore some things while you two talked.

“Yes, it has been…so can we keep him?” you asked, and Zayne had a hard time saying no. Thankfully, you hadn’t brought home a puppy, or he’d be turning down the offer so much faster. Cats could be independent for long hours of the day, and if needed, they could set up an automatic feeder for nights when they’d both be coming home late.

“We can…have you named…him?” Zayne asked, unsure as to the gender of the cat. You giggled as you looked at the cat and then back at him.

“Figured if you said yes, we could brainstorm some names together.” You said, grabbing a small name tag that was blank. You’d have to go to the pet store to have it engraved later, but you placed it in his hand. He moved it around like it was a coin and gave you a small, knowing look.

“So you wanted to name our new child together?” the way he said it had your entire face going hot. You cleared your throat as you nodded.

“Yes, after all, he’s our kitty. I chose him specifically for us. He’s perfect in every way.” You began, and then Zayne heard a small thump as the cat ran into the bed frame. The small cat looked at it, using its paws to look over the frame, “It’s a bit quirky. It runs into a lot of things. It actually ran into my leg in the shelter and then the glass window. It was funny, and I loved him.”

“You bought a blind cat,” Zayne said as the realization dawned on him.

“I bought a blind cat. He didn’t like to eat his carrots.” You were trying so hard not to laugh at the statement. While the cat wasn’t fully blind, the person at the shelter did warn you that his eyesight wasn’t very…good.

Zayne was silent for a moment before grabbing your waist and pulling you closer. He put his forehead on yours as he looked at you, “Is this a warning about my future?” he asked, a subtle smile on his lips.

“Would you eat carrots if I made it into cake form?” You asked, then jumped slightly, your body pressing into Zayne’s as the cat suddenly began rubbing against your leg. You heard Zayne chuckle as he let you go and opted to scoop the cat back into his arms. The cat seemed to enjoy being held as it immediately relaxed into his grasp, once again nuzzling against him.

“I’m fairly certain carrot cake gets rid of all the nutritional benefits of the actual carrot.” He explained, and you hummed.

“It probably does, but that doesn’t answer my question.” You said, your voice still taking a teasing edge.

“It’s a no from me.”

“Rude.”

If you comment on this fic and leave notes, I ask kindly that you don't discuss Zayne being a father. Pregnancy and children make me uncomfortable.

#loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace #Zayne Love and Deepspace #Lnds #Lnds Zayne #lnds x reader #x reader #reader insert #zayne x reader #l&ds #l&ds zayne #l&ds zayne x reader #lads x reader #lads zayne #lads zayne x reader

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vanilladove · 7 months ago

Note

Hello, I am writing to you anonymously out of shame but you can call me Emy I was reading your blog and I was totally delighted with how you wrote and I wanted to make a request: could you write for Chuuya, Jouno, Dazai and Poe (you can add more if you like) with a reader like Mikan from danganronpa If you don't know her, her personality is a little (very) shy and she is surprised by the slightest show of affection (she is even surprised if you say good morning), often despising herself, asking others to forgive her existence and when people Annoyed with her, she tends to ask if she can take off her clothes or imitate a pig so that they can forgive her for all this because she suffered harassment in the past. I'm sorry if the request is very big 😭 but I would be grateful if you accept it (nothing happens if you don't either) I'm sorry if there are spelling errors but English is not my first language and I am using Google Translator. ♡

⋆˚࿔ ˚⋆ bsd men with a v shy + fragile reader

bow divider yeribbon

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ pairing: various bsd men x gn!reader (dazai, atsushi, chuuya, akutagawa, jouno, poe)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre: comforting fluff!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ content warnings: none! also i'm not v familiar with daganronpa, so apologies for any inaccuracies! i'm just going off what wiki fandom says (。-∀-)

⊹ ࣪ ˖ dazai osamu

doesn't mind your personality, although at first he teases you mercilessly until he realizes it isn't just an act.

as someone that has also gone through trauma, he would gradually soften up to your personality and reassure you of your worth.

dazai is a very impatient man though, so expect his method of choice to be exposure therapy...like extreme exposure therapy...like bro might slap some sense into you like atsushi & akutagawa ( ó × ò)

when you start over-apologizing, he'll put a finger to your lips and stroke your face and hair to calm you down (ღˇᴗˇ)｡o

expect lots of subtle displays of affection like hand kisses, kissing away tears, and general affectionate flirting.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ atsushi nakajima

your demeanor confuses atsushi at first, to the point where he cries after the first time he meets you :,(

you're going to get a sentimental, heartfelt speech about how you deserve to live, and how you aren't a burden to anyone.

poor atsu cries over you--you guys probably have daily cry + cuddle sessions.

will do random things to cheer you up and give you many words of affirmation.

buys you a tiger plushie sprayed with his cologne to cuddle with when he isn't with you for comfort ♡

i'd like to think that through helping you, atsushi also helps address his own self-esteem issues ^w^

⊹ ࣪ ˖ akutagawa ryunosuke

hates you at first and sees you as a cowardly weakling.

it isn't until one day he randomly compliments or helps you and catches your shy/flustered expression that he begins to feel some sympathy.

will gradually visit you more until you stop flinching whenever he approaches you. he can tell you're intimidated by him because of his personality and notorious reputation.

it's definitely hard for akutagawa to be soft with you, since he's a rough person, but he tries his best to be gentle with you.

shows his care through actions more than words (sharing food with you, doing constant check-ins, guiding your back when walking with you, etc.)

promises threatens to kill those who have harmed and harassed you in the past.

becomes overprotective over you, getting mad when anyone--even jokingly--teases you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ chuuya nakahara

tough love~!!!

expect a lot of "huh, what the hell are you talking about?" anytime you apologize for something small or suggest some self-sabotage

since you aren't used to affection and often try to reject gifts, thinking you aren't worth giving them to, chuuya will 'lovebomb' you with gifts until you get used to them as the norm and accept them willingly.

although he may seem short-tempered and easily irritated, he'll always make time to sit down with you and listen to your rants/past stories and engage in deep conversations.

holds your hands and reminds you of how strong and talented you are--will keep drilling it into your head until it sticks.

carries tissues in his suit for when you cry.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ edgar allen poe

this man may be your twin...honestly he's a bit of a mess himself, so he doesn't know how to help you.

i think poe would be relieved to find someone similar to him--also very shy and awkward/bad at socializing.

if you started apologizing when there was a pause in conversation, he would probably apologize back, and you two would go back and forth until karl bites him (꒪▿꒪)

since you both mainly only find confidence in your talents/skills, he would get to know your strengths as much as possible and encourage you to do your best!

will also share his book plots with you, taking you with him into the books and getting your feedback, never missing the chance to show you something beautiful he secretly wrote just for you

overall, poe would make you feel less alone and isolated, helping you gain confidence overtime!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ jouno saigiku

since you're already so fragile and frantic, jouno wouldn't find any pleasure in torturing or messing with you

ends up helping you under the pretense of "calming down your raging heartbeat and nerves that are too loud"; in reality, he notices how you're always on edge and just wants you to experience some peace and quiet.

jouno's sensitive to others' emotions, so i think if you were having a panic attack or extreme anxiety, he'd immediately hug + hold you until you calmed down again (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

like the rest, he'd offer you words of affirmation and hold your hand in public/around other people.

will stick around you to ward off anyone who tries to bully you or exploit your personality; blushes uncontrollably if you thank him for his simple acts ♡

#vanilladove #vanilladovebsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd headcanons #bsd fluff #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #atsushi x reader #chuuya x reader #akutagawa x reader #jouno saigiku x reader #jouno x reader #poe x reader #poe bsd #edgar allan poe

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munsonsmixtapes · 5 months ago

Text

Paint Me

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!inexperienced!American!reader

summary: An unfortunate funeral causes you and Benedict come face to face and he is your surprising shoulder to lean on. And after a secret moment in the garden, you become closer than ever before.

word count: 4k

taglist: @syraxnyra @turtle-cant-communicate @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @intothesoul

part one part two part four part five part six part seven

February 13, 1817

There was a knock on your door after you had gotten home from the gallery. You had embarrassed yourself enough when you had insulted Benedict's painting and weren't in the mood to speak to anyone, especially not who you knew was on the other side of the door.

You had already felt like a disappointment to your father and you didn't need to hear him tell you as such. But he entered the room anyway and sat on the edge of your bed next to you. He went to wrap his arm around you, but you pulled away, moving closer to the other side.

"I am afraid that I have not been there for you when you needed me most," he went to reach for your hand, but you pulled it away, fully turning your back to him.

"I am afraid that is true and I do not wish to speak to you at this moment."

"Bunny," he went to use his beloved nickname for you which caused you to stand from the bed, turning to face with a kind of anger you didn't even know was possible.

"You do not deserve to call me that. I understand that you are my father, but you were also my best friend. So where have you been?" You asked, your voice getting louder. "Where have you been when your wife, my mother betrayed me? If you love me as much as you claim to, then why have you never defended me when you saw the two of them treating me so horribly? I know why. It is because you are nothing but a coward and I do not wish to speak to you any longer."

With that, your father left the room, leaving you alone again. All of your anger was getting the best of you, everything that had happened throughout your whole life, weighing on you. You went under your bed where you hid away your art supplies and began to sketch, the pressure of your hand pressing the charcoal to the page, causing it to break, both it and the tears that were falling from your eyes, ruining the picture completely.

It seemed that not even your form of therapy was working. The one thing that made you feel better in fact did not. As your anger reached its peak, you threw everything across the room in a loud clatter and changed into your nightgown, getting into your bed, pulling the covers over you and crying until sleep claimed you.

But your sleep did not bring you any rest whatsoever, the only thing happening behind your eyes was your father. You saw his carriage crashing into a tree, the ship he was on going down, him falling off his horse, all leading to his demise.

The guilt was eating at you for the way you spoke to him. Even though everyone was asleep, you couldn’t sleep any longer without apologize for the way you spoke to your father. Whether he accepted it or not didn’t matter. You just needed him to know that you didn’t mean a single word.

You snuck out of your room with every intention of heading to your parents’ room at the end of the hall only to your mother sobbing in the foyer. She was on her hands and knees while Lilith held onto her, rubbing her back while he cried tears of her own.

You approached them, looking around for your father only to not see him, and you expected the worst. It seemed that all of your nightmares were in fact not that, but premonitions.

You felt lightheaded, your vision going hazy as your sister told you what had happened. Augustus had gone for a late night horse ride and had experienced a heart attack, causing him to fall off and pass away right there because there had been no one had been around to give him the proper care nor get him to a hospital.

It was all your fault. Or at least, that was what you were telling yourself. He did, however, die in one of the ways you had dreamed about, so you supposed that you had spoken it into existence.

The next few days, the house was quiet, neither you nor your mother or sister uttering a single word, nothing feeling quite right to say as far as the loss was concerned. The funeral was the next week and the three of you stood together, weeping over your father’s grave.

You were approached by Kate and Anthony who pulled you into a group hug as your cried into their shoulders and they held you for as long as you liked. When you pulled away, you saw Benedict standing behind them, his eyes already on you. For once, the flirty look in his eyes was replaced with a look of sorrow.

For a second, all of your dislike for him dissipated as he pulled you into his arms, his hands rubbing up and down your back as he whispered nothing but nice things into your ear as you cried into his shoulder.

Kate and Anthony turned away to give you a private moment and whispered to each other about what was possibly going on between the two of you. Kate thought it was sweet, but Anthony was ready to nip it right in the bud. There was no way that he was letting his brother anywhere near you, not even in a friendly way as�� Benedict was unable to be friends with women. He only bedded them and there was absolutely no way that could happen.

You pulled away from Benedict and he was quick to wipe your tears. You hadn’t seen him that soft and gentle since you had moved back to England and you were happy to have your old Benedict back, even if it was just for a moment.

Benedict didn’t know what had come over him. He wasn’t sure why, but seeing you so heartbroken broke his own heart. When he saw you sobbing when he got to the graveyard, he swore that he could actually hear his heart crack. Usually, he would only comfort a woman going through a loss for the sole reason of getting her into bed, but this time, that wasn’t even a thought. He just wanted to make sure that you were okay.

He didn’t leave your side the entire day as everyone followed your family to your house to enjoy a meal together in your father’s honor. He kept his distance out of respect, but he wanted nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and let you stay there as long as you wanted. He knew how close you were to your father and just how much it had crushed you to lose him.

As day turned to night, you could feel your cold shoulder towards Benedict start to thaw. You were beginning to think that maybe you were being too hard on him when he had genuinely been trying to right his wrongs with what he had done to you almost a decade ago. You didn’t think that you should have let it hurt you for so long and that the grudge you were holding against him was really only hurting you in the end.

February 20, 1817

As a way to see your artwork, Lady Danbury had one of her friends host another gallery. You had told her that it wasn’t at all necessary, but of course, she didn’t listen to you. She assured you that everyone would love whatever you decided to submit and that they would all be lining up to purchase commissions from you.

You, however, thought it was a bold claim. Sure, you wanted people to see your work, but now you were nervous that none of them were going to appreciate it the way that you did. It was all very personal and you weren't sure that you wanted it hung for everyone to see.

Despite that, you still submitted your most personal piece. A painting of your father that was your own way of honoring him. A way to forgive him for all he had done to you and to let go of all of the guilt you felt for what had happened to him. It was the best form of therapy you could have ever asked for and easily your best work to date.

Benedict's piece had been coming along great as well. For once, he wasn't thinking about every single brush stroke and just went along with it, letting the brush guide him. He was going off of memory since he didn't have a proper photo of his subject, but he thought it was turning out rather well considering.

Instead of going to the studio, he decided to work in the garden, the sunlight being the best thing to point out all his imperfections if there were any. He was not going to have a repeat of what had happened last time. It was far too embarrassing.

"Ah, there you are, brother," Eloise spoke as she approached him.

"Here I am," he replied and was quick to stand in front of the painting so she couldn't see it, but it was too late. She had already seen it. She pushed him out of the way and let out a gasp as the painting before her.

"It that-"

"No," Benedict cut her off, trying to block her view of it again, a shade of pink apparent on his cheeks. Eloise just laughed and pushed him out of the way again, careful not to knock over the easel.

"It is!" She gasped. "It's the l/n girl that Kate and Anthony have befriended!"

"It is not." He didn't know why he was denying it. All the proof was right there.

"You cannot deny it. It seems that you have befriended her as well." Eloise could see the way that her brother looked at you and it seemed like he was attracted to you. She hadn't had many interactions with you, but according to Kate, you seemed like someone who keep Benedict humble and ground him.

"She doesn't like me, Eloise," he shook his head as dipped his brush into a shade that was the color of your skin tone and did some shading where he thought it would look nice.

"Why not? Did you hurt her, because Anthony will certainly-" Oh, Benedict knew exactly what Anthony would do.

"I did," Benedict nodded. "Eight years ago. When her family lived down the road, we painted a lot together in the study while Francesca played the piano, but one night-"

"What did you do, Benedict?" Eloise wasn't sure he wasn't going to say, but what she did know was that she wasn't going to like it.

"She told me-she told me that she loved." Her eyes widened at that and she wasn't surprised that she didn't know that fact because you would have been too scared to admit it to anyone and Benedict just felt horrible about the whole thing and didn't want to revisit it.

"And what did you say?" Considering the fact that you were ten and Benedict was twenty-one at the time, she could assume what had happened.

"The only thing I could. She was a child and I was certainly not interested in her and so I told her as much. Maybe a little too harshly and she ran."

"Benedict," Eloise gasped. So that was why you always paid almost attention to him. All of the dots were finally connecting. Now she was thinking that she liked you even more. That you were the first woman to not fall for her brother’s charms even though you were the exact one who should have. He definitely had a type.

"I know, and now she's here and beautiful and I'm afraid I've fucked it all up." Eloise was wondering what had gotten into him that he had such a defeatist attitude. He was never that way towards the women he was interested in even if they weren’t interested. In fact, that usually only motivated him even more.

"Maybe this might seem like a foreign concept to you, brother, but have you ever thought about apologizing like a normal person?" Benedict actually had thought about that, but he didn't think that was good enough, so that was why he had done the painting of you. He hoped that would help you see just how much he cared for you.

"I think it might be too late for that." He decided that his work was done and started to clean his brushes.

"It's never too late for an apology," she rested a hand on his shoulder and gave is a squeeze, leaving Benedict with much to think about.

February 21, 1817

You sat in the study with one of your books in your hand, but you couldn't focus on it. Your letter letting you know whether or not your artwork was accepted into the gallery was going to be there any second and you were terrified. There was a lot of riding on it and you were very afraid that they hadn't accepted it.

Kate and Anthony had insisted on being there when you got the good new and Kate clutched your hand as a servant entered the room with the envelopes on a silver platter and you reached for yours, feeling like time had stopped as you ripped into the envelope.

You read the first few words of the letter and let it drop to the floor, feeling your body go cold, collapsing into one of the chairs as you accepted defeat. They didn't want your piece. You should have known since they wouldn't have since you were a woman. They hadn't said as much, but you were able to read the lines.

Despite your sadness, you told the couple that you would join them at the gallery and felt horrible that Lady Danbury went through all that trouble for nothing. You didn't want to have to look her in the eyes, but the only worse thing was not going an accepting defeat. You were going to show everyone just how strong you were.

February 25, 1817

Practically everyone was already at the gallery when you had arrived and you felt dread come over you as you accepted that you were going to have no part in it. You had been rejected from many things like that before, so you weren't sure why it hurt so much.

Lady Danbury had approached immediately when you arrived and you really didn't feel like speaking with her but you plastered on your brightest smile, faking like you had interest in the conversation even though you would have much rather been in the study with your paints.

"Ah, there's the artist," she greeted. "You left last time before we were able to talk about your critique of the Bridgerton boy." Normally you would have felt guilty for something, but this time you couldn't have cared less. Benedict Bridgerton could have stood to be knocked down a few pegs and you were really enjoying being the one to do it.

"And I apologize for that. I was just letting my own issues take over." You were only apologizing because you felt like it, not because you meant it.

"No apologies necessary, dear. I loved it. I wish you would speak your mind more often. More people could benefit from hearing your thoughts. Especially ones like Mr. Bridgerton." Lady Danbury didn't mind Benedict, but often times she felt he had a big head and let his ego get in the way.

"I appreciate that, but unfortunately, I don't think that I'm up for it tonight."

"But what am I to think about the artwork without a lovely artist to give her opinions?" There was something odd about the interaction and you couldn't figure out what.

"You do flatter me, Lady Danbury. I suppose I wouldn't mind joining you."

So, you led her around the gallery and told her what you thought about the pieces, promising her to not hold back this time, suddenly not afraid to speak your mind. And Lady Danbury was loving every second of it, very entertained by the shy wallflower coming out of her shell.

She quite liked your company, amused by your little quips that you had come with on the spot. And she appreciated how you felt like you were able to be your true self around her, not the shy person she had met a few weeks ago. You were growing on her and easily becomg one of her favorite debutants of the season.

"Lady Danbury, who do you think your favorite artist is?" You asked as she got to the second to last piece. All this time you had been talking about the pieces in front of you, but you were curious as to what kind of art she liked since you thought a person's favorite artist said a lot about them.

"You." You were surprised to hear her say that considering that she hadn't even seen any of your work.

"Oh, that's very nice, but-"

"No, dear, it's you!" She cut you off and forced you to turn to the piece on the wall. You let out a gasp as your face stared back at you, feeling something very strange coming over you.

You stepped closer to the painting and turned this way and that, convinced that you were looking into a mirror, but you weren't. You could very clearly see the paint strokes when you got close enough. Who the artist was was a mystery. You had absolutely no idea who could have done it and wanted to know their identity and why you had been their subject.

You couldn't stop staring, wanting to reach out to touch it, but you knew you weren't allowed, even if it was your face on the canvas. It was amazing how well they were able to paint your features and you wondered what they had used for reference.

"I hope this isn't too amateur for you," a voice whispered in your ear and you felt a chill go down your spin as their hot breath hit the back of your neck.

You turned around only to be face to face with the seconds eldest Bridgerton brother. You eyed him, wondering why he would have done something like that and what he would have gotten out of it. That had to be the reason why he would have done it...right?

So many questions were swirling around your mind, your main one being how he was able to make the painting so accurate that it felt like you were looking into a mirror without having you sit for it.

"What is this, Benedict?" You pointed to the painting and he just chuckled. You didn't like how much you enjoyed making hearing the sound and wondering how you would have been able to hear it.

"It's you." He was smiling brightly and you wished he had done it more often. The look was just too pretty on him to hide away all the time. You wondered why he always seemed to always look so serious. In the many times you had seen him, he had only smiled when he was with Eloise.

"I'm aware of that...but why?"

"I think the better question is why not."

"How were you able to do it without me sitting for you to paint me?"

"I will answer all of your questions, but right now, we must see the final painting."

He offered you his arm and you grabbed onto it, letting him lead you through the rest of the gallery.

"But this was the last one."

"Not quite,” he winked and stopped at the last piece, causing you to let out a loud gasp as your own painting was staring back at you. But it had been rejected. How did he get a hold of it and why was it there? The man was confusing you even more by the second. You were convinced that he had just been trying to get you to forgive him just so he could feel better about himself, but now you weren’t so sure.

You felt tears well up in your eyes as you turned to him. No one had ever done anything that nice for you before. Something so selfless that they only did because they wanted to and not to make themself look good. Maybe he wasn’t the same Benedict that your remembered. Maybe he was finally turning over a new leaf.

Benedict wiped your tears away and even though it was entirely inappropriate, you threw yourself into his arms and he was quick to catch you, almost falling backwards because of how much force you had used to push yourself in his direction. You squeezed each other tight, avoiding the gasps of the people around you. Lady Danbury shooed them away to give the two of you some privacy as you both pulled away.

Without a word, you pulled Benedict away from the gallery and you both discreetly made your way through the crowd to get outside for some much needed fresh air. You looked out into the garden and couldn’t help but feel like home there.There was something that was so comforting about it that made it seem like you belonged there. You could see yourself there with Benedict right by your side, the two of you facing each other with your own easels as you painted your own portraits of each other.

You hadn’t thought about him in that way in a long time and wondered where that had come from. Maybe you were overcome with gratitude to him, but that didn’t matter. What did matter was the fact that you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at his pretty lips, wondering what they felt like between yours. And how you could have taken the chance and it would not have been inappropriate.

Without a word, you grabbed him by his coat and pulled him down so that his face was only inches from yours. You pressed your lips to his with so much force that your teeth clinked together and you both were quick to pull away covering your mouths in pain. You couldn’t believe you had done that. That was exactly why you never acted impulsively. It always just ended in embarrassment.

You just shook your head as you felt your cheeks heat up and turned back to enter the gallery. Benedict wasn’t going to let you get away this time, though. He lost you once and he wasn’t going to let it happen again. And this time, he was actually attracted to you and he was going to let you know just how beautiful he thought you were.

He grabbed onto your arm just as you were going to open the door and turned you around to face him. His hazel eyes bored into yours as he grabbed onto your chin, lifting it as he bent down. He slotted his lips between yours and you tried to move along with him, mimicking his actions exactly even though you had absolutely not fucking clue what you were doing.

Your hands moved to his face and pulled him closer to you so you had more access to his mouth, becoming addicted to the feeling of his lips on yours. You had only gotten a little taste, but already wanted to do that exact thing for the rest of your life. Benedict pulled away to let the both of you breathe, but quickly dove in for more as he grabbed onto your waist and pushed you against the pillar that was behind you. You let him lead, taking exactly what he wanted from you as you were pliant under his touch.

He pushed your mouth open as he slid his tongue inside, letting it swirl around your own and a sound escaped your mouth that Benedict definitely needed to hear again. And the fact that what you were doing was considered wrong only made him love it more. He continued to kiss you like his life depended on it as his hand moved up to your breast, massaging it the best he could over your dress as you let out another moan, this one louder. You pulled away as you felt a weird sensation between your legs, a lot of wetness collecting there. You began to panic as you pushed Benedict away, embarrassed about what was happening.

“I had a lovely time tonight, Mr. Bridgerton, but now I must go.” You curtsied and then rushed inside, gathering your dress in your hands as you did so.

You made a beeline for the restroom and locked yourself inside it before grabbing the nearest towel-like fabric and pulled up your dress before wiping. You pulled the towel away not to find blood like you were expecting but found that whatever was between your legs was almost clear. You were convinced that there was something wrong with you, having never seen anything like that before.

While you were panicking in the restroom, Benedict was pacing in the garden, debating running after you even though he was sure that you had already left. Had he made you uncomfortable? That must have been it because you looked so scared. He had taken advantage of you and now he was going to beat himself up over it. Not reciprocating your feelings when you were a child was one thing, but taking advantage of you was another and now he had ruined his chances with you because he was selfish. He didn’t think that another painting was going to fix it either. Perhaps it was time to finally let you go for good and let you find a man who was actually worthy enough. A man that was actually able to keep you.

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