#but i'll get his ass sorted out today?

[stabbyfoxandrew]

i think this week for wipw i'm just gonna,,, go insane and allow as many asks as possible????

[blizzardfluffykpop]

I am currently trying to get my mind to transition from the fact that I saw the boyz & was in nyc- to focus on the fact that I need to get everything together to see changkyun in chicago- (it's kind of funny i have nothing organized for him- even tho i bought his tickets first...). like ik what I gotta do but i don't wanna do any of it... (i will eventually *soon* but i just need to complain about it first)

[writersdrug]

no thoughts just waitress!reader showing up for shifts like nothings wrong after the date situation

just keeping it calm and professional. working her shifts efficiently and no longer bantering/flirting with ghost, who would rather reader melt down and tear into him than putting up the walls around herself hehe

Ok I'm combining some asks here that had some different ideas - I got so many of you guys demanding reparation for making reader cry 😭 here's the comfort chapter! (Still a tad angsty at the beginning)

Ghost had finished your tips for you that night. He had half a mind to slide a hundred in your payout folder as an apology for ruining your date... but what good would that do? That would make you quit for good, if you hadn't already.

He lays in his bed, eyes stuck to the ceiling, still in his jeans and black shirt. He wishes he could snuff out the guilt that sits heavily in his gut. He wonders what you're doing - probably crying, possibly making a half-assed voodoo doll of himself and stabbing his chest with a dull steak knife, because that's all he feels right now.

He gets up early the next day after a rough three hours of sleep. He lumbers down the stairs to the office - Price is there, sorting out cash and working on the next supply order. He looks at Simon, who's rubbing his eyes and looking worse for wear.

"Mornin'." Price says, turning back to the monitor. Ghost grunts in response, dropping himself onto the couch behind Price. His head aches from the lack of sleep, thoughts circling in his mind about how to apologize to you. He can imagine you won't want to talk to him - or, if you do, it'll most likely be profanities wedged between insults. He'd love for you to berate him right now, and make him feel like he got what he deserved.

Price sighs. "You sleep alright?"

"I've had better."

"Nightmare?"

"... yea, somethin' like that."

Price huffs. "I'm workin' front of house today." He says, grabbing the bag of tips and standing up. "Goin' down to drop these in the safe, then I'll help you stock up."

Simon opens his eyes, looking at Price with confusion. "You?"

Price nods. "Dove called out sick. Sounded like she's got the lurgy."

That delivers the final blow to Simon. He knows you're not sick - you're avoiding him now. All plans to apologize are now out the window, and the more time passes, the harder it'll be to do it.

"You've only got yourself to blame, Simon." Price says, heading down to the restaurant floor.

He curses under his breath as Price leaves. How he heard about what happened - he could only assume it had been from Soap. He drops his arm over his face and groans. He wants to call out himself, but then they might as well shut down the entire pub for the day.

Should he try phoning you? Would you answer, let alone allow him to get more than five words out? What would he say? "Sorry I ruined your date, I was jealous tha' ya got a life outside of the pub." There is no variation of an apology that feels like it would be enough. He made you cry, for fucks sake. That was a punishment in and of itself, but he still had to own up to what he'd done.

He sighs loudly; his body feels heavy as he drags himself off the couch, trudging down the stairs. He still has a bar to run.

It had to have been the longest shift of Simon's life, and he even wrapped things up a bit earlier than usual. He didn't have the gift of your incessant chatting or being able to tease you to make the time pass. Price was a solid companion in front of house, but there was hardly a conversation to be held - even with the usual bar crowd. The patrons had a look of confusion for the majority of the night, wondering why Soap wasn't popping his head out of the kitchen to chat every once in a while - and why the hell the owner was serving tables, and not the chipper, spunky waitress.

When Simon had locked up for the night, he noticed your bike was no longer in the alley. Johnny must have dropped it off on the way back to his place.

Today isn't much different - at least, not for Simon. He's still suffering from a lack of sleep, he's irritable (he had a spat with Johnny in the morning, over something he can't even remember), and his work ethic is suffering. He's not worried about slicing bar fruit; it'll give him something to do later, when he needs it. Maybe the rush will kick him back into shape.

He stares at the dishes on the edge of the bar - they're all in need of a good polish, but he finds himself stuck on staring at the bar fridge. There's nothing else he needs to stock up on - it's packed completely full with wine, champagne, and cans of beer. He gently kicks the side of it with his boot. He should be checking the to-go boxes, helping Soap with setting up the condiments and soups, making sure the tables all had full salt and pepper shakers. That's what you would be doing. But, you're not here, and neither is Price. He can only hope tonight isn't as busy as the previous night, otherwise he'll have to close some tables. Which would make customers mad. Which would make Price mad. Which would-

Suddenly, he hears three loud bangs against the back door. He freezes, the sound triggering a Pavlovian response. He immediately looks up to the kitchen window - Soap opens the door, and you come jogging inside. You greet him with a smile. He asks how you're feeling, and you say "much better".

He doesn't know what to do with himself, but he just stands there like an idiot as you hang your bag and jacket on a hook. Stands there as you push your way into the restaurant, barely sparing him a glance as you scurry by him. Stands there as you run up the stairs, two at a time, diving nose-first into your chores so you can avoid Simon.

He can't speak. Should he? What can he say? "I'm sorry," for starters, but it isn't that simple. He thought you might have quit, and was preparing his heart for the worst. But now, here you are, running back and forth through the pub and setting up your tables - and it feels like you've never been farther away from him.

In all honesty, you can't bring yourself to talk to him either. You're feeling just as ashamed with your behavior two nights ago as he is about his own. Why the fuck would you expect someone - let alone your boss - to do your chores so that you could run off and have fun on a date? Not only that, but you'd made a scene; you felt like you had half-assed the ice bins in your scramble to get them cleaned, and then you sobbed in the middle of the restaurant. The cherry on top, however, was when you called Price yesterday and told him you had a cold, calling out of your shift. It was a cowardly thing to do, and you could tell he wasn't buying your story.

But: bills need to be paid, rent is due, and you can't lose this job. So you sucked it up and came in today - Simon is easy enough to ignore, separated from you by the bar.

At first, the quiet bartender was relieved that you had showed up for your shift - he wouldn't have searched for a new waitress if you had quit, instead choosing to deal with the consequences of his actions. But he's quickly getting more and more irritated with the silent treatment you're serving. You only talk to him when necessary: a simple "thanks" when you grab your drinks and run them to your tables. You busy yourself between rolling silverware, (over)stocking napkins and condiments, and even going so far as to spray the menus down and scrub them with a rag. You spend more time in the kitchen with Soap; each peal of laughter shared between the two of you is another arrow in Simon's chest. He's stuck behind the bar, listening to woes spilling from drunken lips, forced to watch you flit around and pretend he doesn't exist.

You can't keep this up forever.

Still, you do for most of the night. Even when your shift is coming to an end, the kitchen closed while you close the tabs for your remaining tables, you don't cave and sit at the bar with Simon. You sit at the farthest table from him, the farthest chair, in fact, skimming over your tip receipts - and talking to Soap (who was only able to sit with you since you had helped him knock out his tasks).

Simon's never been as angry with Soap as he is now - and the worst part is he knows it's not justified. He's watching from behind the bar, polishing glasses so hard they might wane into cups. He wants to talk to you. He will talk to you before the night is over. He doesn't expect forgiveness, but he expects that you'll at least let him offer an apology.

One of the regulars at the bar looks to whatever Simon is glaring at, chuckling quietly when he sees you. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Stuff it, Mike." Simon grumbles.

Meanwhile, you walk back from closing out your last table, plopping back in the booth with Soap. "What are you doing after this?"

"Sleepin'." he replies instantly, tossing back an onion ring. "Been dealin' with a grumpy bawbag since early this mornin', and I'm beat."

You glance over at the bar; Simon's back is facing you as he organizes the beer glasses. You really should apologize to him... you just couldn't figure out when the right time would be. He'd still be working by the time your shift ends, and you don't even know if he wants to speak to you at this point.

"Is he mad at me?" you ask, tapping your pen on the table.

Soap sighs. "I'm not goin' t' be the middle man, Bonnie." he says, looking at you intently. "If ye feel like somethin' needs to be said, go talk to 'im."

You groan, leaning back against the seat. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"It just isn't! He's already pissed at me, and he probably thinks I'm a slacker. What good is an apology?"

"Ye won't know 'til ye talk to 'im, hmm?"

"What if he fires me?"

Johnny barks with laughter, and you frown. "I'm being serious."

"He'd never fire ye." he says, getting up out of the booth. He stretches both arms above his head and lets out a grunt. "In fact, he was throwin' a fit yesterday n' today 'fore ye came in. Bitch took it out on me."

You winced. "I'm sorry-"

"Save it fer 'im." Soap interjected. He left you at the booth with the onion rings and your tips, disappearing into the kitchen. You huff, hunching back over your tips and scribbling through them.

Deep down, you know Soap is right. If anything, you could just apologize to Simon. If he chooses to be grumpy about it, so be it. You've got tough skin... still, you can't stand the thought of him being upset with you - not because of your work ethic, but because you liked him. A lot. And you wanted him to like you back, even if it was in the most platonic way.

But that didn't change anything. An apology was due, and you were going to give him one before you left tonight.

You grabbed an onion ring and popped it in your mouth, grimacing when you realized they were cold. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Simon making his was across the floor to your booth.

Great. Guess the apology is coming now.

He stops at the edge of the table, wiping his hands in a rag. You pretend to punch numbers into your phone's calculator, but they're all random - you just want to look like you're busy.

"May I sit?" he asks, tucking the rag into his back pocket.

You mumble out a "sure", still not looking at him. You hear his large frame slide into the seat across from you, polyester squeaking underneath his weight. You continue to do random equations on your calculator, letting a thick blanket of tension settle between the two of you. You can feel his stare burning into your head, his arms folded over his chest... and you notice that his mask is in his hand. You finally look up at him.

It's not the first time you've seen his face - you've caught glimpses of it when he smokes in the alley, or when he eats whatever Soap throws under the warmer for you and Simon. But this time, he's not taking it off to be convenient. And, dear god, you're just now paying attention to how scarred, rugged, and handsome he is - but now's not the time for those kinds of thoughts. You feel like he's reaching out an olive branch, showing a possible vulnerable side to himself. So, you place your pen on the table and lean back.

He stays quiet for a moment longer, trying to figure out how to start this. He wants to make sure that you know he's here to apologize, not to ask for forgiveness. From his silence, you assume he's waiting for you to go first.

"I'm sorry about Tuesday night." you say, eyes dropping to the table. Simon's astounded that you're the one apologizing, but you continue. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, and I'm sorry for trying to dump my job on you."

He feels worse, now. Was that even possible? He was expecting anger, insults - a detailed, frustrated explanation of what you did last night since you did not go on that date. But you're the one saying sorry? You think you're to blame for all of this unspoken aggression? Oh, you really do confuse him, sometimes...

"You don't need t' be sorry, luv." he says, gazing at you with a softness you'd never seen before, not in his brown eyes, at least.

"No, I do." you say, nearly pleading with him to let you be apologetic. "I was being a brat, and whether you usually do the ice bins or not, I shouldn't have expected you would do them without asking." You push your pen on the table, doing your best to convey your feelings. "And yeah, I was late for my date, but... well, he sounded like a dick, anyways."

Simon chuckles, watching you stare at the table. "Well, I owe you an apology, too. I jus'..." he sighed heavily, running a hand down his jaw. "I don' even know. Guess I was bein' lazy, or... I got jealous tha' you've got a life outside of this pub. Feels like you belong here."

He immediately regrets saying that - it sounds way too possessive and... just straight up weird. But you smile, taking comfort in the fact that he still wants you here. That this was the whole reason behind the mess.

"Soap called you a bitch. Said you were an asshole all day."

Simon scoffs. "Yea... 'm pretty sure Price would tell ya the same. And he wants ya back, too. Couldn't stand waitin' on tables, he was tryin' t' trade places with me all night."

You laugh. The world seems alright again - not perfect, but good enough. It might take a night of sleeping the tension away before you're fully back to your normal self, but this is a leap in the right direction. You look at Simon, into his brown, steady eyes, as they stare right back at you.

He breaks the silence. "I really am sorry for ruinin' your date."

You smile softly. "Thank you, Simon. I forgive you."

And just like that, the weight of his guilt is lifted away. The lingering sourness remains, a reminder that he had made you cry. But you had forgiven him, which was more than he was hoping to get tonight.

"Are we better?" you ask timidly.

He nods once. "Better."

You smile - you slowly slide your stack of receipts to him, biting your lip. "Cool - can I have my money?"

Just like that, his smirk drops - but you know it's all in good humor. He huffs, snatching the stack from the table and scoots his way out of the booth. "Always got money on the mind, eh?"

"I've always got rent on my mind." you retort, following after him with the bowl of onion rings. You plant yourself at your usual spot on the end of the bar, right near the POS where Simon cashes out your tips. He tries to hurry up, assuming you want to dip and go home after such an intense conversation. He slides the mask back over his face and punches his code in, trying to edit your tips into the system as quickly as he can.

"Simon?"

"Hm?" his response is instant, turning around to look back at you. You've got your phone on the bartop, and your back and jacket on the unoccupied seat next to you.

"Can I stay for a drink?"

He's melting on the inside, only held together by his own skin. He sets your receipts down and opts to do them later, right before whenever you decide to leave. He won't miss on an opportunity to have you stay longer.

"Course, luv. What's it gonna be?"

"You know how to make a cosmo?"

He chuckles, grabbing a glass from the shelf behind him. "Sure do."

[tra1nchi]

Omg Imagine fucking your sons teacher so he won’t fail his classes🫣

Best dad ever reward,,MINORS DNI!! Top male reader,, Dilfy reader woah,, Degradation,, over desk,,

Your son was a hassle,, you wouldn't say he was a disappointed nor was he a burden but getting calls from the principal of his school multiple times a term was not something you enjoyed!!

He would always come up with bullshit excuses that he was only messing or that he didn't mean to!! But you knew better,,he was your own son!! You could obviously tell when he was lying,,

Getting called in by his teacher to have a one on one meeting,,showing up in your best clothing to show your sons teacher that you weren't some deadbeat dad that was condoning this kind of behaviour!!

What you didn't expect was that his teacher was cute,, his soft brown hair and clothing that seemed more suitable to a librarian then anything!! No wonder your son calls him a nerd,,

"Sir! I'm so sorry to call you here today!" The teachers voice was soft as he apologised,,motioning you to take a seat infront of him as he sipped at his learning themed cup,,

He waited patiently for you to take a seat and once you did,,he seemed almost too grateful for it,, "I called you in for..this" His tone was apologetic as he handed you your sons report card,,which was almost all Fs the whole way around!!

The teacher wasn't ready for how you'd react,,most parents would scream and shout while others would frown and seem close to tears but you,, you didn't do anything of the sort!! >□<

He was bent over your desk,, his ass up as he gripped onto the paperwork!! Your cock moving in and out of him with provision!! It was like you knew exactly where to hit eachtime!!

"Fine! Fine, I'll change everything to an A! Please just, Let me cum please..!" His whines were pathetic as they reverberated around the room, his eyes trembling as he tried to not focus on the pleasure your dick gave him!!

Forcing him to change your sons card while you were still inside!! Watching his shaky hands type in the computer and spanking his ass for every misspelled word!! >□<

[evie-sturns]

calm - Matt Sturniolo

summary: after a terrible day of arguing with your boyfriend, accidentally breaking your favorite perfume, and now your hair and outfit not going to plan, all your emotions hit you at once and matt has to calm you down.

contains: fluff, crying, arguing, comforting!matt.

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

10:38am

i huff angrily as i tug up my knotty hair into a ponytail, my arms burn while i attempt to tie the elastic around my thick hair. suddenly the elastic snaps, pinging my hand almost in a mocking way.

"oh for fucks sake!" i whine, throwing my fact into my hands as i reach for the hair gel.

i plop more on the top of my head, my hands now sticky and my whole body sweating. i finally get my hair up into a ponytail, but it looks like total shit.

i sigh before stomping out of the bathroom into matt and i's shared room, i swing open the door and ignore matt as i reach for the closet.

matt and i have argued a record amount of times today, it's almost impressive.

flashback:

it was 6 in the morning, and i rolled over onto matt accidentally.

he shoots up in bed as i lay my body weight on his arm, "ow! ow get the fuck off!" he says in a pissy mood, i drift awake slowly as matt shoves me off him.

"matt come on." i groan, grabbing my shoulder from where he just shoved me off of him. "dont say come on like you didn't just break my fucking arm and wake me up at 6am in one sweep."

"i'm not that heavy matt, don't be stupid." i scoff, rolling over in bed to the edge of the mattress, a good meter away from him.

"yes you are, your fully body weight was on my arm." he says with an attitude,

"so you're calling me fat?" i ask angrily,

"dude, just go get out of here." matt demands, pointing towards the door, the nickname stinging a little bit.

"its my room matt, i'll stay right here, not my fault your acting like a child." i raise my voice, slamming my body down onto the mattress and tugging the covers up over me, my back facing matt.

i wasn't expecting matt to leave, but he did. he shot up out of bed and grabbed his pillow, he walked swiftly out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him

and i think that set the mood for the whole day, because now 4 hours have passed and we’ve argued about matt being lazy, me leaving out dishes, him ignoring me, and me apparently being a brat.

-

i sort through our closet, tugging out a small skirt and one of matt's shirt.

"did i say you could borrow that?" matt speaks from the edge of the bed, my head snaps round to look at him.

"stop matt!" i almost yell, which shuts matt up quickly.

i storm back into the bathroom, i hear matt laugh slightly from behind me.

i tear off my pyjamas, and tug up the tiny skirt. as i go to zip up the sides the zipper pops off.

and that will do it.

i erupt into a loud sob, which quickly escalates into floods of tears.

i hear some movement coming from matt and i’s room before the bathroom door swings open, matt takes one look at me and his face drops.

i don’t want to look at him, or for matt to see me like this.

“hey- hey what’s going on sweetheart?” matt says, panic clear in his voice as he reaches for the side of my face.

i shake my head as more and more tears flow down my flushed cheeks.

he wraps his arms around me and i bury my face in the fabric of his shirt.

i let out shaky breaths as i attempt to calm myself down, my body shaking in matt’s arms.

“come- come to the bedroom.” he whispers into my hair before picking me up by my ass.

i nod as i bury my face into his shoulder, matt carries me into our air conditioned bedroom and plops me down on the edge of the bed.

my legs dangle of the edge of the matress, matt sits down right beside me, the matress shifting under his weight.

he wraps his arm around my shoulder and tugs me closer to him as i continue to cry.

“what’s going on baby.” matt says softly, rubbing my back.

i crawl over and sit myself down on matt’s lap, straddling him.

he grabs the sides of my face with two hands, his thumbs wiping my tears delicately.

“you- you’re mad at me.” i squeeze out with a loud voice crack

matt’s eyebrows furrow, but i continue to speak “and- and i don’t look good.. like my hair and outfit.” i sniff

matt plants a kiss to my swollen lips, he grabs my chin, making me look at him.

“i would never be mad at you princess, sometimes people fight and that’s okay, but what happened today wasn’t worth fighting for.” matt says while looking into my eyes

“and you look absolutely gorgeous, honestly.” matt says, his eyes gazing over my face.

“i didn’t mean to wake you up this morning- i promise.” i sob, letting my head fall onto matt’s shoulder.

“you know i’m grumpy in the mornings don’t you, it’s not your fault, and i’m so sorry for making you feel like it was.” matt sighs, rubbing my back soothingly.

i sit on his lap in silence for a couple minutes as i take in sharp breaths.

i feel matts chest rise and fall against mine, i attempt to copy his breathing.

“my skirt broke earlier.” i say lightly, lifting my face away from matt’s shoulder.

“did it?” matt asks, his head tilting down as his long fingers inspect my skirt.

i nod, pointing to the broken zip. “i’ll get you another one tomorrow, how about that?” he speaks with a small smile.

“you don’t have to do that.” i breathe, “i’m gonna do it anyway as an apology for how i acted today.” he protests.

“let’s get you out of that skirt then if it’s broken.” matt suggests, picking me up again and walking me over the the closet.

he pulls out a pair of his sweatpants and brings me back over to the bed, matt places me down on the edge of the bed and bends down.

his hands tug down the hem of my skirt, pulling it down my thighs.

he purses his lips out of concentration before tugging the sweatpants up my legs.

he stands back up “you want your hair out?” he asks,

“it’s gonna be crunchy if i take it out, because of the amount of gel i put in.. but it’s also tugging on my scalp like crazy.”

“i’ll wash your hair later for you.” matt smiles, he’s always loved washing my hair for some reason.

i wipe my face, flustered by his words.

“do you want some water?” he asks, i rub my puffy eyes with a nod.

he walks over to me and grabs my hand, tugging me up off the bed. matt walks me out of our room into the corridor.

i follow closely behind him as we walk down the corridor into the kitchen.

i stand next to the counter top, matt walks over to me and grabs me under my armpits before lifting me up onto the countertop.

he grabs a cup and fills it up with cold water before walking over to me.

he holds it up to my lips, “and… open.” he says, i open my mouth slightly and matt pours some water into my mouth,

he accidentally pours too much, my cheeks hollowing out as i lock eyes with him.

i let out a loud laugh, spraying the water all over his shirt.

i slam a hand over my mouth as the water leaks down my chin.

“oh- my god.” matt erupts into laughter, both of our laughs filling the room.

“i am so sorry-“ i say in between giggles.

“how did that even happen-“ matt rubs his eyes with a wide smile,

“i’m so sorry- i don’t even know-“ i laugh,

but i’m cut off by his soft lips pressed against mine.

“i love you.” he mutters against my lips with a grin,

“i love you more.”

——

@gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @mattybsgf @stupid4sturniolo @lydi2718 @chrisstopherfilmed2 @flosslikeabosss @zturndq @skysturniolo @jetaimevous @sturniolo04 @luxy-nyx @aliceloveschris @livvy4realll @chrissturnsss @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @lovergirl4387 @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @ecilphttlunar @bitchydragonparadise @thematthewlover @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @chrisgetsmewetterxo @mattsonly @justalittle47 @mattsturnioloisbae@sunsetsturniolos @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @pkfferoo @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall @raysmayhem-72

[hotchner-edu]

Pickpocket (Drabble) | Aaron Hotchner

Synopsis: You find something rather interesting in Aaron's pant pocket when you go to do laundry.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Warnings: fluff, sneaky reader

You were fiddling with the sleeves of the sweater you were wearing, a navy quarter zip-up you stole from Aaron eons ago.

Just an hour before, you were getting ready to do the laundry, sorting out the clothes in the laundry basket and making sure the pockets were empty. As you were checking on a pair of Aaron's work pants, your fingers brushed against a compact object that had you freezing on the spot.

The nagging curiosity in your head had you slowly pulling the object out from the pocket, and you nearly dropped his pants to the floor when you saw the black ring box peeking back at you.

Aaron was at work, so you had time to compose yourself and think through what you wanted to do next. You decided not to open the box and to just stuff it back into the pant pocket.

Ultimately, you decided to be oblivious to your findings, even momentarily convincing yourself there wasn't a ring in there but something else.

To be even less conspicuous, you undid all your hard work and stuff all the clothes back into the laundry basket, delaying the wash. You decide to busy yourself by cleaning the house— mopping, vacuuming, dusting, cooking, organizing, then reorganizing.

Aaron unceremoniously arrives home two hours earlier than his usual time when he's not on long trips away, practically pulling the front door off its hinges.

You pad toward him with a frown of concern, watching as he takes off his shoes and tries to hurry down the hall before noticing you.

"Honey..." he says breathlessly, searching your face for something.

Your frown deepens and you instinctively reach toward him. "Aaron? You're home early. Is something wrong?"

His hands find your sides as he pulls you closer. "No, no... just finished early is all." Which you knew to be a bold faced lie because his work was neverending. "How was your day?" He asks carefully.

"Busy. Just cleaned up around the house." You sigh tiredly, omitting your earlier findings. Kissing him softly, you peer at him curiously. "But why are you in such a rush?"

Aaron's shoulders tense a little again. "Do you happen to know where my work pants are?"

"Aaron, they're all identical and you have like six of them." You joke and chuckle, realizing why he was panicking now.

He gives a weak smile and squeezes your waist a little, eyebrows still furrowed in stress. "The ones I wore earlier this week on Tuesday."

You let out a false gasp of realization and sigh. "They're probably in the laundry basket. I was going to do the laundry today, but I completely got swamped with cleaning the house." You lie smoothly, plastering on a disappointed frown for good measure.

Aaron nearly sags in relief as he smiles at you. "Don't worry about it, honey. I just forgot an important business card in the pocket. I'll go put the laundry in the wash right now."

Smiling fondly, you bring him down for a loving kiss. "You're the best. I haven't had dinner yet, so I can warm some up and we can eat together."

He nods and kisses your nose. "Sounds great. I'll only be a moment." He gives your ass a little pinch before he's walking off toward the laundry room.

As you start walking toward the kitchen, he turns around again and beams at you with a boyish grin. "Oh, and honey? I love you."

Yeah, what he doesn't know won't kill him.

And a mere two weeks later, you're a teary-faced mess as he's down on one knee in front you, nervously proclaiming his love for you again and staring up at you in devotion.

You very nearly get whiplash from how quickly you nod, hand clasped over your mouth.

As he sweeps you into his arms after your fervent acceptance to his proposal, you get a glimpse of the glittering rock on your finger as you cup his cheek to kiss him.

Luckily, the ring stayed as a surprise since you never opened the box.

[dollfacefantasy]

CRY IF I WANT TO ♡

pairing: negan x fem!reader

summary: life has been different since you've been taken to the sanctuary. you're not sure how you fit in here. some may call you one of the wives, but you don't think that's accurate. maybe his pet? his doll? as the days pass, you're not sure it really matters. the distinction doesn't get you any closer to escape.

cw: nsfw (18+), dark fic, smut, dubcon, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), kidnapping/captivity, stockholm syndrome, coercion, forced ddlg/daddy kink, humiliation kink, dacryphilia, violence (from negan, simon, and reader), hurt/comfort sorta

wc: 10.9k (oops lol)

a/n: ermmm... hehe yeah. i've been wanting to write this so i hope someone likes it. reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated <3

kinktober slot: day 13 - mindbreak (i think)

"Rise and shine, little lady. We got a lot of things to do today."

Your eyes flutter open, the bright light from the window in front of you broken up by the silhouette of the man at your bedside. The sight of him, even just the outline of his body, sends a nauseating crackle of dread through your bones. It's a feeling you can't verbalize of course - not if you want this day to resemble any sort of pleasant.

"There she is," Negan says, speaking with his signature cadence that made you want to rip out your hair, "How'd you sleep, babydoll?"

"Fine," you rasp as you slowly sit up. The mornings were the only time you could get away with dull answers like that. Any small bit of attitude could be blamed on you being 'cranky' rather than feelings of hatred that hadn't been broken down by this point.

He smiles at you, his rough hand cupping your jaw.

"You're so pretty in the mornings," he mumbles, sweeping a thumb over your pouty bottom lip.

You pause for a second, but so does he. Like he expects a reply. Unfortunately, you know the words he wants to hear. Swallowing the last sliver of dignity you have, you force out the response you'd been trained to say over the last however-long.

"Thank you, daddy."

He grins even wider if that's possible and pats your head. "You're welcome. Now let's get you dressed. Like I said, daddy's got a lot to do today."

You get out of bed and follow him over to the dresser that held your outfit for the day. The chill of cold air bites at your legs as the lack of blankets leaves them exposed. The generator had been out for the past day or so, leaving the Sanctuary victim to the harsh Winter raging outside. You were hoping he'd take that into account when picking your clothes, but you didn't hold out too much hope.

The two of you shuffle around the gray furniture of Negan's room. Even though you'd been in here more times than you could count now, you still marveled at the quality of the chairs and sofa. Items like these seemed luxurious with how the world was outside these walls.

When you reach the dresser, you follow the routine you'd become used to. You peel the small shirt you're permitted to sleep in off and drop it in the basket nearby. Your panties are next to go. You pull the dainty garment down and toss it to the same place as your top.

You can feel his eyes on you with every move you make. They watch how your breasts bounce when freed from their confines. They admire the curve of your ass when you bend over. They glimmer with smug satisfaction as you stand there nude before him.

"I'll tell you what. I never get sick of seeing this," he teases.

You offer a weak smile in return. The lack of energy almost seems to please him more.

He walks around to stand behind you, giving you a light pat on the ass as he does. His hands land on your hips first and then slide up to cup your breasts. He pulls you back, positioning you flush against his chest.

"You know I'd keep you like this all the time if I could," he murmurs in your ear, "Sweet and ready for me. Ripe for the pickin' whenever I felt the need."

The deep, gravelly rumble of it seems to trigger a flicker of heat in your lower belly on instinct, and you despise yourself for it. Shame burns so hot in your heart, it threatens to take the nausea you felt earlier into a full on dry heave. You're glad there's not a mirror in front of you. It's easier to keep a docile look plastered on your face when you don't have to stare yourself in the eyes.

The rough pads of his fingertips pinch and tweak your nipples, causing you to squirm a bit where you're standing, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a noise. You can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your neck.

You choose not to say anything to his last statement. There's no guarantee that he hasn't actually considered that, and you don't want to find out. Displaying you in that way in front of everyone doesn't seem like his style, but back when he had you lined up on your knees with the rest of your group, you wouldn't have imagined yourself ever calling him daddy either.

As you'd quickly learned in regards to most things around here, the risk just isn't worth it.

"I'd never do that to you though. Don't think anyone could keep their hands off if they saw all of you, and I just can't have that," he whispers, calming your fears for you. He pulls his hands away from your breasts and steps back to grab the pieces he'd be putting you in today.

He starts with panties. This pair is pink and ruffly just like the last. You step into it with rehearsed timing. One foot then the next. He slides them up to your hips and lets the elastic snap into place against your skin.

You had no clue where he got this shit. You didn't want to believe that his hold on his men was so strong that they'd waste an entire supply run raiding a Victoria's Secret, especially for women they never even got to touch.

It wasn't worth thinking about though. It's not like discovering the origins would spare you from wearing the damn things every day.

Next, Negan shakes the wrinkles out of your dress. You step into that too, just like you did with the underwear. Looking down, you catch a glimpse of the garment.

It's just as humiliating as all the rest he makes you wear. The fabric is bright white and baby pink. Like everything else, you have no idea how it was kept so pristine. The waist is accentuated with a pretty pink ribbon wrapped around it, tied into a large bow at the front. It's extra tight up top and melts into a puffy skirt down below.

He shimmies it over your body and yanks the zipper up in back. The dress conforms to the shape of your figure, leaving little to the imagination in terms of how much the neckline shows and how high the hem of the skirt sits.

Spinning you around, he whistles when he gets the full picture.

"Good God Almighty. Pretty as a picture," he praises, reaching out to pinch your cheek.

Again, you force yourself to smile.

He'd already dressed himself for the day before getting you up, so the rest of the time before you leave the room is spent working through the remnants of your morning routine. He takes you into the bathroom connected to his room to brush your teeth and do your hair.

"Say ah, sweetheart," he smirks before jamming the brush into your mouth.

He's not careful or attentive. He only does it long enough to let the weight of humiliation settle in your stomach. It's always obvious when it kicks in. You get this look on your face like that of an abandoned puppy. Only then does he let you spit and move on to the next task.

He styles your hair into something cute, though you hate it anyway. Like the dress, it's only intended to make you stick out. To draw attention to your status as his possession.

The last thing he does is put your socks and shoes on. Your feet get covered in a pair of frilly ankle socks before he slips a pair of chunky sneakers on you. At least if this place got overrun and you had to bolt, you wouldn't be totally fucked.

"You ready to go, honey?" he asks you when the first part of your torture has finally come to a conclusion.

Again, you nod while looking up at him.

He grins at you. "You're quiet today," he says.

"Sorry, daddy," you respond. The way he said it sounded like teasing, but you could never be too careful.

"Don't be. I like it," he says.

You don't know how he does it, how he deflates you so easily without even trying.

He turns and grabs that stupid bat he carries everywhere, swinging it to his side before facing you again and sticking out his hand.

"Got my two favorite girls, now we're really ready to go," he says. He gestures with his fingers. A small impatient reminder. "You know the rules."

Of course you know what he's referring to. Always hold daddy's hand when you leave the bedroom. One of the rules he'd prattled off to you when he first brought you here.

You reach out and take his outstretched hand, earning a kiss to your head.

The way he'd been holding his arm caused the leather sleeve of his jacket to ride up a bit. Beneath the stiff fabric, you could see the fading scar you'd given him around the same time you'd been informed of the rules. Two crescent shaped marks in the pattern of your teeth.

You can barely stand to look at it now. All it does is bring back memories of when you still held hope for escape or rescue. Back then, you'd thought it'd only be a matter of days until Rick or Michonne burst into the small bedroom they were keeping you in.

The day you'd sunk your teeth into him, he'd just finished giving you one of his speeches about your new life at the Sanctuary. According to him, you'd be so much happier here. Sure you couldn't see your family, but now you had someone better than them. You had him. And he would spoil and take care of a pretty thing like you in the way you deserved. Show off to the rest of your old group how generous he could be.

He'd reached forward to pinch your cheek just like he'd done earlier today. You wanted to smack him away, but he had your hands bound. So you did the next thing you could think of and bit him. Hard.

His eyes burned with fury you hadn't seen since. You can still hear in your mind the way he yelled, shouting "Goddamn it" so loud that the walkers out at the fence probably heard.

After that was a bit hazy. He'd snatched that limb away from you before bringing it back and striking you hard across the cheek. You'd nearly fallen off the bed from the force.

"You little bitch, you try some shit like that again, and I'll knock your fucking jaw loose," he growled before yanking you up right and forcing you to look at him.

Involuntary tears leaked from your eyes as you glared up at his face. Blood oozed from the stinging wound you could feel inside your mouth.

That cut had healed by now though.

You squeeze his hand harder while walking down the hall out of his room. Even though it was the hand that struck you, it was the only thing you had to hold onto now. 

Your brain tries to compartmentalize him nowadays. There's Negan, and there's daddy. Negan is the one who gets mean. Negan is the one who yells. Negan is the one who killed your friends. Daddy is the one who cares for you. He keeps you safe and healthy. He'd never hurt you like that. You didn't think you'd survive with a shred of sanity without that distinction.

He feels your little grip and squeezes your hand in return. That's what daddy does.

You stay close to his side as he guides you on the walkway that looks down on the commotion of the main room. Even after what you guessed had been a couple months, if not more, you still didn't like this place. Everything was so transactional. No one cared about each other. It was all about what everyone had to offer. That was by design of course, but it didn't make you any less critical of it.

Your eyes scan the clusters of people below. Although you weren't allowed to socialize on your own, you were starting to get a grasp on the cliques here. Negan's closest advisors all seemed to amalgamate in one area, spare the guy with the burnt face. The table closest to the window was where most of the soldiers ate while the one by the door seated the workers.

You weren't completely sure what class you fit into here.

The most obvious guess would be the group you're about to encounter, Negan's wives. But there are stark differences between you and them that prevent you from feeling camaraderie.

The two of you approach the room where he keeps this group of women. He maintains a tight grip on your hand as you slip through the doors. The disparities between you and the others become obvious as soon as you're within a few feet of them.

All of these women get to dress in black. They stand tall in heels, have earrings dangling next to their faces, and for some, a red tint painting their lips. All of them get to openly glare at him. They don't have to hide their hatred behind a feigned smile or soft laugh.

You know it isn't right to be jealous of them. They're suffering too. This isn't a happy situation for them either. But god, you can't help it. Envy nearly sears a hole through your heart every time you come into this room. What you wouldn't give to be one of them. To be allowed to drink and talk with other people. To not be under the constant threat of punishment.

Despite all these thoughts swirling through your head, you manage to keep your mask on. A simple, thoughtless look on your features as you stand next to him like an oversized accessory.

He looks down at you before dropping your hand.

"Stay right here for me, sweet thing. Daddy's only gonna take a minute," he says.

He stalks off to the back corner of the room with a woman you'd come to learn is named Sherry. They speak in hushed tones, so you can't make out what they're saying. You figure it's about one of the girls sneaking around with some other guy. That's what it's usually about when he makes a stop here with you in tow. Even with their status elevated above yours, they don't get to escape the wrath of his possessiveness.

You stand there awkwardly, arms crossed over your midsection while your weight shifts between your feet. No one tries to talk to you. You can feel their eyes on your pastel form, but their gazes don't hold curiosity or interest. It's pity.

In the beginning, you thought they were looking at you with jealousy. After all, you got your own cell and then graduated to Negan's bedroom while they had to share amenities.

But they weren't naive like you had been. None of them wanted Negan's attention. They didn't want to be his pet or his dolly or whatever the fuck he would classify you as. They had each other, and they got to share the load between all of them.

You sigh quietly and look down at the sparkly trim of your white sneakers.

He finishes his conversation with Sherry and then migrates across the room towards a blonde, crying girl. They speak at the same volume as him and Sherry. It's not worth trying to eavesdrop on.

Instead, you patiently wait the couple minutes it takes for them to finish up and for him to return to you. When he walks back over, you can tell the discussion hadn't been a positive one. His shoulders seem weighed down by whatever information he'd gathered from them.

But the dark cloud above him fades away as his hand slips back into yours. He leads you out of the room just as you'd come in and continues walking with you.

You hesitate but decide to try. "Are you ok?" you ask softly.

His head turns slightly to cast you a look. For a moment, it seems the daddy act has fallen away. He looks at you like he would any other woman who asked him that. Cold. Analytical. But the persona makes its reappearance seconds later as he pulls on a smirk for you.

"Just fine, honey. You don't gotta worry about me," he answers.

You know you should just nod and shut up, but it drives you crazy being led around like a child expected to be seen and not heard. So you decide to try again.

"Did they do something bad?" you ask. You hate how weak your voice comes out. There's no spark to it, no bite or sharp edge. All of that, he'd extinguished in you.

He drops your hand and drapes his arm over your shoulders, pulling you to his side.

"What are you so curious for, huh? You know something about it?" he responds.

You shake your head. Your arm rises and wraps around his torso.

"No. I just don't like when you're upset," you say. You lean your head into his chest to really sell it.

"Oh-ho, look at you. Turning on the charm," he chuckles, "I am just fine, sugar. I swear it. Sometimes those girls give me trouble, but it's nothing I can't handle."

You decide to just take it and nod this time. 

He looks at you with satisfaction. "They can't all be like you, y'know? So well-behaved," he praises.

The compliment makes your blood curdle. You couldn't stand that he would act like obedience was your defining trait.

When you were with your group - your family more like -  you would never have been described as obedient. Whether at the prison or Alexandria, it felt like every other day you were sneaking off to try something. You were always quick to spring into action, never the type to let someone belittle you. Rick got on your ass about deviating from plans in spurs of emotion more than anyone else. Maybe that's how you wound up here.

You had tried to stop them from taking Daryl. On that dark night in the woods, surrounded by the ring of headlights, you had tried. You didn't rush at Negan like your friend. Not wanting someone else to get their head bashed in, you were more subtle than that. But you attempted to get in the way of the guys carting him off. That's what landed you here. Tucked under his arm, the very weapon that took away two people you love swinging a foot away from you.

But you swallow down all of this rage and nod again. You nuzzle into his chest, a way to conceal the tightening sensation in your throat and the sting of tears at your waterline.

This is the worst part about Negan, you decide. The way he makes you act like you want it.

From your first day here, he made sure to tell you over and over how he's staunchly against rape. He's not a monster. He's not that kind of guy. No, no. You are a prisoner, so yes, technically here against your will, but never in a million years would he violate you in that way.

And he'd stuck true to that. Whenever you screamed or cried or yelled "no" on a loop until he shook you around like a bobble head, he always backed off of his advances. He never copped a feel or slid a wandering hand in your panties while you slept, never held you down or physically forced himself on you.

Instead, he broke you down until saying yes seemed like the only sane option.

You didn't want his affection? That meant you must not want to talk to anyone at all. For days. You didn't want to sit in his lap? Maybe you'd prefer kneeling by his feet for a week, in private and around everyone else. You didn't want to sleep in his bed? Fine. You could sleep on the concrete floor without a pillow or blanket while the heat was out.

You reflect on all of this as the two of you trot through the boxy halls. He takes you around on all his errands for the day. You stop by the doctor's office, inventory, and Dwight's room. All over the place. You stay quiet the whole time. busying yourself with your thoughts as you stay attached to him.

Everyday the line between survival and free will becomes blurrier. You tell yourself that you have to be like this with him. You'll be worse off if you don't act the part of the sweet, adoring girl he wants. But then sometimes you wonder if you truly are becoming obedient. Like a wildcat tamed into a lazy house pet. You almost never resist his touch anymore. You even go to him for comfort sometimes.

The idea kills you, so you deem it best not to think about for now.

Rather, you focus on guessing what the rest of the day would hold. It's already the afternoon by now. The sun hangs low by the tree line, shimmering into the Sanctuary through the rectangular windows across the walls. He wouldn't have a meeting with the lieutenants today. Those were almost always around lunch time. You didn't think he'd spend it with one of his wives either. If that was the case, he usually gave you a heads up in the morning.

The most likely possibility you come up with is the dilemma from earlier. You had never been invited to see the culmination of those though. Normally, he kept you safe and sound in his room while he tended to matters like that, ready to provide him some stress relief when he finished.

But things can always change, and now it seems like that's the case.

He guides you back into the main room. A crowd has gathered down below. You can't see the center point of their conglomeration. All you can sense are the nerves vibrating between everyone.

Their feet shuffle around on the hard concrete flooring. They look between each other with anxious eyes. Hushed chatter clouds the area until you and Negan begin to descend the stairs. That's when they all go quiet. Mouths close and pupils snap to the position of their leader.

You look down to lessen the ache of humiliation that came with accompanying the center of attention. The few times you had scanned the crowd for others' reactions, seeing if you could find a sympathetic gaze or outraged expression, all you found was animosity. The male workers and soldiers leered at you. They smiled and smirked, visibly amused by your girly outfits and docile disposition. On the other side of the aisle, the women glared, taking in the details of your appearance with disgust, like somehow it was your fault you got toted around like this.

His voice booms out to his audience as he takes step after step towards them.

"You all know what we're here for today," he starts, "We got simple rules 'round here, but some people still seem to have trouble following 'em."

Your hand stays linked with his as the two of you reach the landing.

"Watch your step, babydoll," he murmurs to you before continuing his speech. Your cheeks burn with shame.

"It feels like I'm doing this every other month. It's getting ridiculous," he lectures, "I don't like having to be so harsh. Truly, I don't. But rules are rules, and I don't know how I can make myself any clearer. They are not optional."

He walks further into the room with you. Being level with everyone else, you can see more of what's happening. They're gathered around a furnace. Dwight stands near the opening to the flames, clearly preparing something. Another man sits a few feet away. Over in the corner, the woman from earlier is looking at him and crying.

Looks like your guess was correct.

"So we're gonna do this again. Hopefully it's the last time," he concludes.

The crowd parts as you and him head towards the center of the room. He leads you over to an empty spot near the wall. Dropping your hand, he cups your jaw and makes you look him in the eyes.

"Stay right here for me. Daddy'll be right back," he says.

You nod and then watch as he turns away, waltzing over to where Dwight stands.

While your eyes are up, they can't help but catch on somebody familiar standing at the front of the crowd.

Daryl.

Your heart stutters, and you can see on his face that his does too. He looks worn down. Eyes dimmed and face hollowed. His clothes, dirty and ill-fitting. You start to feel tears pricking at your waterline from the sight. You weren't the only one they'd broken down.

In him, you find the compassion you'd been searching for. The look that told you at least one person here didn't take enjoyment from your suffering. But it comes from someone who truly can't help you. Who's in a situation as bad as your own.

You sniffle and try to wipe away any beginning tears before Negan or someone who would tell him notices.

The loud creak of a metal door opening drags your attention to the furnace though. You watch as Dwight pulls out the item he'd been preparing. A burning, metal iron becomes the new focus of everyone in the room.

Upon seeing the small object, so many things connect in your head. You know what's going to happen. You realize why Dwight's face is scarred. You understand why that woman is crying. And you know no one is going to stop any of this now or in the future.

Your heart pounds harder, and your breaths become shaky. Tears blur your vision further. You dig your nails into your palm to try and ground yourself, but it doesn't help. The scene in front of you has whipped your mind into a frenzy. You haven't felt this bad since the early weeks of being in this place.

This stupid fucking place. You hate it. You hate how cruel it is here. How disconnected and lifeless everything feels. You hate him for being the only one allowed to really live. You hate everyone else here for letting him get this powerful.

It's a complete spiral whirlpooling in your mind, only made worse by the fact that you have to keep it contained. You try to tell yourself you just have to wait it out. This couldn't take more than five minutes and then you could go back to the bedroom. You'd be ok. You could take off this itchy dress and put your hair back to how you like it. You could kick off these shoes and hide yourself beneath the warm blankets. None of these people would be around, all you'd have is the quiet between those walls where daddy could make it all better.

As you're in the process of mentally talking yourself down, Negan takes hold of the iron. To free up his hands, he offers Lucille off to someone nearby. Your eyes follow his leather-clad limb to the neck of the bat and then up to its new handler. You see Simon.

You have to look down now. If you don't, everyone here will see the look of pure terror on your face. You close your eyes and rein in whimpers that threaten to spill from your lips. Everything feels fuzzy around you, intangible and like your hands would drift right through them. Your head heats up, the sensation making you dizzy. You try to steady yourself by leaning back against the wall, but the cool, flat surface does little to ease your nerves.

It does even less when you hear his voice closing in on you.

"Hey there, princess," he starts, voice laced with mockery, "You feeling alright?"

You're not looking at him, but the image of his stupid face projects with HD clarity in your mind. You swallow hard and nod.

Laughing lowly, he comes to stand beside you. "You sure about that? You're looking kind of lightheaded," he taunts.

"I'm fine," you choke out.

His hand darts up and grabs your jaw. He doesn't gently guide your eyes where he wants them to look. He yanks your face in his direction like an unruly child with a doll.

"I don't know about that. You're looking kind of rough," he says while glaring down at you with those ruthless eyes, "Maybe I should take you over to the doctor's. We both know Negan wants his favorite toy kept in good condition."

Your entire body vibrates with hatred for this creature. Every breath you take acts as an effort of restraint, a way to lull yourself into not ripping out what hair he has left.

You didn't just despise Simon because he's an asshole or because he was the person harassing your group leading up to that horrible night you were taken. Your aversion for him stems from experiences entirely your own.

A few days after the biting incident, you had tried getting physical with Negan one more time. You'd managed to worm one of your wrists out of your restraints, and instead of aiming for escape, you decided revenge held a higher priority. You waited for him to come check on you, keeping your arm tucked to your body as if it was still bound.

When he finally came in, you sat there and took the speech, took the condescension, and took the promises that you would conform. And then he leaned a bit closer. That's when you backhanded him as hard as he had you the few days prior.

After the hit landed, you lunged forward and tried to wrap the rope connected to you around his neck. You pulled as hard as you could, and for a moment, you thought you had won.

But wrangling you off was easier than you anticipated. They hadn't been allowing you much food or sleep, so the strike took most of your energy. It only took him a handful of seconds to snake his hand under the rope and then pry your arms away.

He stood up and slammed you into the wall with his hand around your throat. In that moment, he didn't look at you with the same fury he had before. This time around, frustration dominated his gaze.

"Was that fun for you?" he asked.

You didn't answer. Your chest puffed with exertion while your eyes stared daggers into him.

"What did I tell you last time? What did I fucking tell you?" he asked. Despite the look in his eye being less volatile, his tone of voice was dangerous as ever. "I told you I would knock that jaw of yours loose. That's what I said, and I meant it. I don't want you thinking I didn't. But I'm not gonna do that right now because I don't think it would work, and I'm not one to waste my own time."

Internally, pride swelled in your chest, thinking you had called his bluff. But then he kept speaking.

"I have a bad feeling that if I struck some sense into you that you'd just try to strike it into me right back, and I can't have that. That's just not gonna fly around here," he said, "So I'll tell you what: I have a better idea. You don't wanna play with daddy? Then you can spend a weekend with your Uncle Simon. See how much fun he can be."

Back then, you didn't know Simon as the right hand man. You didn't have his name and face connected yet. Now, you wished you could go back to that state of mind.

You were with him for three days while Negan did a tour of the outposts and subjugated communities. Only 72 hours. But an hour of him would have been enough to scare you for a lifetime.

When he first came into the room, you didn't get the feeling that him and Negan would handle you so differently. You could tell from the way he looked at you that, like his boss, he looked at you as something to toy with. A source of amusement. The difference, you soon found out, was how they played with their toys.

Unlike daddy, Simon didn't talk just to talk. He didn't warn you of future spankings or timeouts. He hit. And he kicked. And he shoved you down and tossed you around. He didn't offer the same condolences daddy did, there was no "this hurts me more than it hurts you." Nothing he did even bothered Simon. He watched you hurt, and he enjoyed it.

You didn't even get a reward once you'd settled down. Your attitude had disappeared almost instantly. Having the wind knocked out of you once was enough for you to become more amicable, but your change in demeanor didn't phase him. It wasn't his goal.

The only rules Negan left him with were the basic ones for the Sanctuary along with no killing you or causing permanent damage. But that didn't mean he couldn't threaten you with breaking them. He went on and on during the down periods where you cowered in the corner or huddled against the wall of your bedroom cell, telling you stories of how he went rogue before. Any horrible thing he could think of, he dangled in front of you as a potential fate.

When Negan finally came back, you eagerly awaited him. Despite your sleep deprived and bruised condition, your eyes stayed locked on the door like a puppy expecting their master. For the next week, you latched onto him. Didn't want to leave his side. He had made his point. You could hate him as much as you wanted but leave you alone with Simon for a little while, and you'd beg for him back.

That's how you feel right now, staring up into Simon's eyes while he holds your jaw. The pressure his fingers put on your cheeks serve as a reminder of the pain he can inflict while his other hand holding the bat twirls the weapon near your calf. As much as you had been internally preaching your hatred for everything to do with Negan minutes ago, all you want to do now is run into his arms.

You feel more tears wanting to slip down your cheeks, but you try your best to hold them in. The more you cry, the more I like it. That's what he'd told you more than once over those three days.

"Just leave me alone," you tell him. You try to sound as firm as possible, but even your own ears catch the way your voice quivers. "Negan wouldn't like you talking over him."

Your attempt at taking a stand falls flat. He doesn't back off any, rather, he leans in closer.

"Negan, huh? Are you even allowed to call him that?" he mocks and feigns a pout. 

"Just shut up!" you say. You mean it as a threat; though, it hits his ears like a plea. More hot panic rushes down your spine from the stress of having to remain quiet while also trying to be assertive.

His lips flatten into a line before he continues speaking. "Your head's getting too big for those shoulders, little girl. You better watch your attitude, or I might have to suggest you're due for some more correction," he mutters.

A loud scream rips the two of you from your conversation. He drops his hand from your face, and you both straighten up against the wall. Negan stands in the center of the room, pressing the blazing iron to the side of the man's face.

He wails until he passes out, and that's when his leader peels away the device of torture. Sticky skin goes with it before snapping back against his face like a rubber band. You grimace, your stomach twisting at the sight. You'd seen so much blood and guts over the years of living out on the road and fighting with other groups, but melted skin was a new one.

Negan turns to Dwight and gives him the iron back. You breathe an involuntary sigh of relief, subconsciously soothed by the thought of him returning to your side.

The reprieve ends suddenly though when a small, sharp pain slices along the meat of your calf. You whimper and lift your leg away on instinct. Looking for the source, you see the bat twirling from the motion of Simon's wrist. One of the barbs had caught your skin. Your eyes flit up to him.

"Watch out!" you say. The old you would have been seething. She would have pulled out her pocket knife and given him a little receipt for the cut. But now, you watch him with fearful eyes, trying to gauge whether or not you would get in trouble for calling him an asshole.

"Remember what I said," he tells you quietly as a trickle of red runs down to the lacy frills of your sock.

Before you can respond, a warm hand lands on the small of your back. Your head turns to find Negan smiling down at you.

"What's with the long face, sugar? Simon bothering you?" he asks, clearly not meaning it seriously even though to you it is exactly that.

You part your lips to answer, but Simon beats you to it.

"Bothering her? C'mon. I'm just checking up on her. She looked a little dizzy, so I offered to take her to the doctor's," he says, light as ever, "I'm just watching out for her, y'know? Sweet thing like her will get eaten alive here if she's not careful."

Negan raises his eyebrows, and for a second, you think he's about to take your side. But then he just chuckles and shakes his head. 

"She's doing just fine. That was her first time seeing one of those, so she's probably a little shaken up," he says, rubbing your arm.

"Hm... Sounds about right," Simon replies, "I know that's not how her little group did things."

"Yeah. So I'll get her back to the room. Think you can handle shit down here?" he says, gesturing around to the dispersing crowd.

"Always," Simon says with a mock salute. He then hands Lucille back.

Finally, you find some relief, some true sanctuary as Simon walks away. Your body physically relaxes. Negan feels it underneath his arm and spares you a glance as the two of you walk back up the stairs.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

You want to just take the easy route and say no, to play along with this sadistic charade and not cause any trouble. But you can't get the single syllable out. It feels impossible to even shake your head. Even though Simon's gone, the weight of everything that happened still remains along with the stinging in your leg.

Your throat feels tight, and your eyes feel like they're two seconds from overflowing. The lights suddenly seem too bright, and everyone here is too loud. You can't show him that though. You don't want more correction. You don't want someone to like it when you cry. But you can't ignore him either. That would be the worst thing to do.

All you manage in response is a shaky shrug. You let out a broken sigh with it and lean into his chest. The tension in your shoulders returns as you fight to keep the tears from leaking out against the worn leather.

At first, he doesn't say anything, and the two of you keep walking. Your steps remain in time with his as you traverse the walkway and around the corner. Then the two of you come to a stop when you're out of sight. He turns you by your shoulders, holding you in front of him so that you can't shy away.

"I got one more thing to attend to out by the fence. Think you can handle that?" he asks.

Your heart pulses to an uneven rhythm, trying to decide what to do without devolving into pure panic. You bite your lip as you mull your options over. Say yes and go with him. Then inevitably fail to contain yourself and get in trouble. Or, say no now and risk punishment for being defiant. You're not sure which one will end up worse.

"Can... can we just go back to the room?" you ask. Your voice comes out weak as if every word siphons a drop of energy from you.

He eyes you with uncertainty of his own; though, there's no fear in his look. His gaze is careful, an attempt to decipher if this is some kind of deception. You'd been pretty well-behaved as of late, but one bad day could take even the most obedient pet to a rabid dog, jaws primed to gnash.

But you didn't really have a reason to lie. The bedroom with him would provide the least likely chance at escape, and in the condition you were in now, you didn't seem to be planning an attack.

Slowly, he nods. "Sure, honey. I'll have Arat handle the other shit," he tells you before leading you in the direction of his bedroom.

The words he mumbles through his radio sound distant to you. You watch your legs switch between one and the other as you walk. On your right, you see the small red splotch staining the pristine cloth of your sock.

Before you know it, he's pushing open the bedroom door and bringing you inside. It then closes behind you, creating a barrier between you and everything else out there. It gets a little easier to breathe.

He guides you the few steps over to the edge of the bed and sits down, pulling you onto his lap. You feel his eyes scanning over you in an attempt to figure out the problem without asking. His hand rubs up and down your back over the crinkly fabric of your dress. His other palm focuses on your legs, coasting over your knees and the area of your thighs the skirt doesn't cover.

The code is harder for him to crack than usual. Normally when you got upset, it resulted from something he said. And he knows that because, usually, that's his intention. It was always either that or you'd just generally be feeling down, missing your home. But that doesn't seem to be the case right now. You seem more antsy than your normal bouts of sadness. He doesn't think it was from watching the spectacle downstairs. He knows you hate the saviors indiscriminately. Watching some random guy's face melt off wouldn't have you this upset. Finally, he relents.

"What's wrong?" he asks. He actually makes an effort not to sound like he'll make fun of whatever your answer may be.

"I just don't feel good," you choke out and bite your lip.

He feels you shudder on his lap, and he knows it's not the full truth. Pulling you a little closer on his thighs, he continues to look down at you.

"C'mon, baby. Tell daddy what hurts," he coaxes.

Your face tenses, but you know he won't drop this. "Just... just... I don't know. A lotta stuff," you say. You couldn't decide on a lie to commit to.

He sighs and bounces his leg with you on it a few times. "Did someone say something to you? Was someone bothering you?" he asks as his scope of potential causes narrow.

You're in the middle of trying to think of a cover story when his hand glides down to remove your shoes. He knocks one off. Then the other. The foamy white sneakers clatter to the ground next to his foot.

He goes to bring his hand back up, dragging it over the fine threading of your socks, but his eyes catch on the bloody splotches near the edge. Grabbing your ankle, he tugs your limb upward. It puts you at an awkward angle and nearly knocks you from your perch on his thigh. He stares the small wound down, assessing every detail of the tiny scrape.

"How'd you get this?" he asks. He looks over to you.

In reality, it may have been the most standard question in the world. But it hits your ears like an accusation and brings a fresh wave of tears that you can't control. Your lip quivers as your lids blink a few droplets over your water line.

"Simon did it," you weep.

You're scared he won't believe you, but after a few seconds, he drops your foot and pulls you close. His arms wrap around you tight and keep you flush against his chest. The warmth of the embrace encompasses you. You let the dam burst and cry into him, pouring all your sadness out against his body.

His hand sweeps up and down your back in comforting strokes. "Shh, shh, shh, sweetheart. Daddy's got you," he murmurs.

You feel him shrug off his jacket and push it aside, leaving the plain material of his t-shirt to soak up your anguish. He keeps you as close as possible. One of his hands cradles the back of your head to ensure you don't pull away.

"Does Simon bother you a lot?" he asks.

You nod. "Whenever I'm not with you," you choke out.

He hums in acknowledgement. "I'll talk to him. He's not supposed to hurt you when you're being such a good girl for daddy."

"I was trying really hard," you sob, your voice cracking, "I've been trying to be good. But he just hates me anyway. He's so mean to me."

Your arms snake around him as tight as a pair of snakes aiming to kill. You cling to him with everything you have, as if he's your one true savior from this living hell and not the cause of it.

In your head, you feel like you're annoying him. He's probably waiting for you to calm down, so he can nip this blossom of resentment in the bud. Good girls don't have tantrums or meltdowns, right? And all he cares about is that you act the part of a good girl.

But you only think all of that because you can't see the smile on his face right now.

He's grinning more than any of the times he got you to say something humiliating or cooperate with a punishment. The look he displays now reaches a new level of smugness, higher than the night he killed two of your people and traumatized the rest of them. His satisfaction runs deeper this time because right now, you're truly broken.

This isn't something you agreed to because the other option was worse. It's not something he had to coach you into or manipulate a situation into becoming. You did this all on your own. You came to him. Sure, he had to coax it out of you a little bit, but once he got his foot in the door, you let him right in. You're clinging to him for comfort, looking to him for a solution. He couldn't be more pleased. This is exactly what he wanted - to break you down. Now he just had to reel you back in the slightest bit, get you in that perfect middle ground between too independent and non-functioning.

"You have been doing really good for me, y'know? I'm proud of you, baby," he tells you in the most earnest tone he can manage, "Don't worry about Simon for right now, ok? Daddy's gonna set him straight. He won't bother you again."

You nod, but the reassurance doesn't stop the flow of tears from your eyes. Your fingers stay clenched around the fabric of his shirt.

"No more tears, honey, c'mon," he coos. He pries your limbs from around him and boosts you to your feet, standing you between his thighs. "I'll take care of it just like I take care of you. Let's just worry about what my little baby needs to feel better right now."

You take a few seconds to think about it, but the answer comes with relative ease. The most agitating thing about this situation right now is wrapped all around you, scratching at your sides and digging in under your arms.

"Can you take my dress off?" you sniffle.

His eyes fall from your face over your body. "What? You don't like this pretty little number?" he teases.

For once, you don't feel like you're two seconds away from punishment. You feel like it's a joke, and you don't have to awkwardly straddle the line between playing along with the humor and submitting to the literal interpretation.

"It's ok... it's just kinda scratchy," you say and wipe away your tears with the back of your hand.

"Spin around for me then. We'll get it off you. Can't have it irritatin' that soft skin while you're tryin' to relax."

You take the few steps to turn around. His fingers grasp the zipper and undo the baby pink prison you'd been trapped in for the day. Feeling the chafing fabric pulled away from you lets you take a real breath for the first time in hours. Already a small bit of relief. It only compounds when the garment hits the floor and pools at your feet.

He tugs you back by the waist and lays you across the bed, body on full display for him. Right now, you don't mind his gaze tracking your curves. He leans over you, his hands coasting from the sides of your breasts down to your hips.

"You're prettier like this anyways, princess," he praises.

"Thank you, daddy." It spills out as naturally as water from a faucet.

He rewards you with his lips on your stomach instead of words. Kissing the smooth, warm skin, his lips travel from just above your navel to the divot between your breasts. Your nipples rise to attention automatically.

His hands slide up to cup your mounds of flesh. He fondles and gropes them as his lips migrate up the curves to the hardening little peaks. They don't latch on just yet. He teases them with kisses instead, letting the anticipation of blissful suction build.

You take your lip between your teeth as you watch him. Chills break out across the rest of your body. You know you should be fighting. You know you should kick and scream and cry. You should try to take advantage of his closeness and get towards your revenge. But in your hellish life, are you not allowed one moment of pleasure? You haven't let those plans of escape and vengeance go, but you want this right now. You want to feel good, and he gives you that. 

This isn't Negan. This is daddy. And you don't wanna hurt daddy.

His tongue peeks out from between his lips to trace wet circles around your nipple. The sensation draws a whine from you. Your body squirms beneath him with an eagerness to feel more.

"I think I know how to make you feel better. Take your mind off all that stuff from before," he whispers.

He takes one of your nipples between his lips, flicking the bud with the tip of his tongue and scraping his teeth against the sensitive area. You reward the choice with a mewl and squirm your legs. He chuckles and then switches to the other one.

"That feel good?" he asks.

You nod, your head tilting back and your eyes fluttering.

Grinning, he continues his work on your chest. You whine and squirm for him, giving him all the reactions he craves. Soon, his hand ghosts up your inner thigh. His fingertips drag over the flesh and land on your clothed center. Through the thin pink cloth, he rubs at your clit. That garners a breathy moan and a full body shudder.

"Goddamn, you are so cute," he chuckles, "Just a few little touches and you squirm around like a virgin for me."

Heat floods your cheeks, but you don't bother disputing the claim. It was the truth. You weren't sure what it was about him that got you so amped up and needy.

The pad of his middle finger swirls around the little nub in your panties. He can already feel the fabric getting sticky from the wetness between your thighs.

"Poor baby. You're so easy to play with," he says.

His mouth leaves your breasts now and begins to retrace its path down your stomach. It glides over your skin with open-mouthed kisses all the way down to the hem of your underwear. His fingers fall away from your center to your dismay.

Your disappointment is short lived though. You feel him position your thighs on his shoulders. When you look down, his eyes are staring right back up at you, gleaming like that of a panther ready to pounce.

"You want daddy's mouth on you? Will that help you feel better?" he rasps.

You nod quickly. "Please, daddy," you whimper.

"So polite. You didn't even need me to remind you of your manners," he smirks.

You don't even care about that remark. It washes right over you. All your mind is concerned with right now is getting more of his touch.

He brings his index finger back between your legs. He hooks it beneath the soaked seat of your panties, pulling it to the side and revealing your slick folds to him. The thumb on his opposite hand comes up to rub over the length of your slit up to your clit. Back and forth, nice and slow, just to tease you.

Your hips writhe the slightest bit, and he nips the skin of your inner thigh.

"Tsk. You know good girls are patient. They don't wriggle around. I've taught you better than that," he chides.

"Sorry," you say, backing down quickly.

"It's alright. I know you're having a rough day, so I'll let it slide this time," he says. He then leans in to lay some kisses on your clit.

Your eyes roll back and your toes curl. He never let things slide. This must have been a miracle. The same man who always toted that the rules weren't optional, letting you bypass one? Maybe you were his favorite. That's what you took it as anyways.

He makes out with your cunt like it's the prettiest thing he's ever seen. His lips engulf it, spreading his affection from your little bundle of nerves all the way down, nearly reaching your puckered entrance below. You whine and clutch at the bedsheets. You were still too scared to grab his hair. You weren't sure if he'd like it and groan or glare at you in a way that said you'd pay for it later.

It doesn't matter to you right now though. What you hold isn't important when you feel this good. It feels like a firework show is erupting in your belly, bright bursts of all different colors. Your heels dig into his back, subconsciously keeping him buried between your thighs.

He's tempted to tear your panties off and fling them aside. He would if not for the limited number in his possession. If this was normal life, he'd rip a pair to shreds on a weekly basis. These things were so cute when he put them on, but when he wanted at you, he despised them. If this was normal life, he'd just buy you new ones whenever a tattered one had to be tossed. But then again, if this was normal life, he wouldn't have you at all, so it isn't really worth thinking about.

Refocusing his mind on your pleasure, he dives further into your cunt. His nose bumps your clit as his tongue fucks into you. He pushes it in a few times before pulling back and just lapping at your pussy in broad strokes, getting every drop of you he can. Two of his fingers prod at your entrance before slipping in. They fuck deeper than his tongue, but don't stretch you out like his cock. A happy medium to walk the steps of preparation.

He maneuvers his digits with expert precision, scissoring and curling them at the perfect intervals. You can't help the way your hips buck in response. He doesn't get on you about it though. He just wraps your arms around his hips and holds you in place.

Your thighs squeeze around his head too. Luckily, that wasn't against the rules. He loved feeling the heat of your plush legs wrapped around his skull, keeping him close.

He pumps his fingers faster, curling them right against that spot that got you to squeal and cry out his name.

"Cum for me, babydoll. All over my face. I wanna feel it," he rasps.

It's a fortunate coincidence he gives you that command because you were about two swipes of his tongue away from doing it on your own. You melt against the bed, eyes fluttering and body jerking and quivering as rushes of pleasure sweep through you.

Your fingers grip the blankets so tight they threaten to tear into them, but then they loosen completely and go lax next to your hips. He licks your cunt through the entire thing, not letting you come down until the euphoria has thoroughly washed through you.

While you're lying there, dazed and blissed out, he untangles himself from your legs and stands at the edge of the bed. He wipes your nectar from his facial hair before pulling his shirt over his head and unzipping his pants.

"I think daddy deserves a little reward for making you feel so good, pretty girl. What do you say?" he asks.

Of course, you nod. There was no way you would reject him while still so close to the high of your last release. He grins at your hazy movement and shoves down his pants, jerking his cock a few times and crawling on the bed to hover over you.

"You're such a good girl for me. Better than I ever thought you'd be," he says while looking down at your face.

"Wanna be good for you, daddy," you say softly, blinking at him with your misty doe eyes.

His grin spreads even wider. In your sane mind, you probably would have thought it looked like some creature out of hell. But right now, the look just makes you giggle and squirm.

Down below, he lines up at your entrance. He slides his tip through your arousal a few times, getting it nice and wet before he sinks in. A smile of your own rises on your face, and he groans at the deep satisfaction of having your cunt embrace him so readily.

"Perfect little pussy, fuck," he grunts, "Think it's the best I've ever had."

You preen at that compliment. He balances his forearms on each side of your head as he begins to thrust. Your legs rise up and lazily wrap around his waist, which he loves. He can't get enough of the fact that you want him, that you're pushing him deeper and not letting him pull out too much.

His head falls beside yours, letting you hear every pant and grunt that falls from his lips. Your walls squeeze around him every so often. The noises make your tummy flutter for him. It drives you wild to know you brought him to such a state of lust.

"Christ, you're so fucking tight," he mumbles.

You giggle again and drape your arms around his shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut. You just get lost in the feeling of him inside you, his cock battering all your sweet spots just right. He leans in and kisses at your neck. His hips pump deeper, ramming his shaft further into the warm depth of you.

In this moment, everything feels so good and pure. You can't even imagine any of the pain he inflicted on you before. It all feels like a distant dream. Memories that belonged to someone else, not you. At this second, it feels as though this bliss will last forever. Just you and him tangled in the throes of passion without a concern for anything else happening beyond the privacy of his room.

When you open your eyes, they're a little watery from all the stimulation and how good it feels mixed with your saccharine thoughts. You arch off the bed a few inches, pushing your pert breasts against the warmth of his chest. He pushes you back down with ease, keeping you angled exactly where he wants you.

Pulling back a little to look at your face, he smiles when he sees the water gathering in your eyes.

"Oh, those are the tears I like to see," he croons.

You moan, a little shiver coursing through you. It only encourages him to pound his hips harder against you, in and out, in and out, until you're both approaching the edge.

"You gonna cum again for me, sweetheart? Show daddy how good he's making you feel?" he murmurs.

"Yeah, mhm, ah-" you whimper, "I wanna cum daddy, wanna cum for you."

"I know you do," he chuckles, "I can feel it."

Your cunt contracts and releases around him with increased frequency now. He knows you're moments away from reaching the peak. Swiveling his hips, he tries to strike that chord and bring you crashing down.

You whimper, the pitch getting higher as the glass gets closer to shattering. Finally, with one good jerk of his pelvis, you tense up and cry out. A couple tears trickle from your eyes. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades.

Your body trembles and rolls with the feeling. He fucks you through it, savoring every delicious squeeze of your cunt around him. A few breathless groans rumble out of him. He gets every last second in your hole he can before he has to pull out.

He snaps his hips back, replacing the tightness of your pussy with his hand. It's not the same, but it will do. He gives it a few quick strokes before he explodes and spills on your belly. You lift your head and watch as the ropes of hot, sticky cum land on your skin.

His hips jerk with each surge of release firing from him. When he finishes, his head hangs, and he takes a moment to catch his breath. He scoots off of you and cools down beside your body on the bed. It's quiet for a few moments; though, he's never one to be vulnerable, so he doesn't let the silence linger for too long.

"You feeling better?" he asks and rotates his head to look at you.

You nod, visibly more relaxed than before.

"Thank you, daddy," you say, sweet as can be, before leaning in and pecking his lips.

He stares at you for a few moments in fond satisfaction. Then he gets up, and pulls you to your feet with him.

"C'mon. Let's get you cleaned up," he says.

You follow obediently to the bathroom where he wipes you off with a damp rag and makes sure you're all set to get some rest after. Both of you make your way to the dresser next. He pulls another set of those panties out and slips you into them. They don't feel so horrible this time around, but in the back of your mind, you're sure that won't be the case tomorrow morning. A soft, thin shirt covers your upper body next. It's the same baby pink color as the dress, but you don't mind since it's much more comfortable.

On your own, you tuck yourself to his side for the short walk back to the bed. He climbs in first and then tugs you into your spot next to him.

"I want you to try and get some rest," he tells you, stroking down the side of your face, "When you wake up, I'll get you something to eat, but for now, I want you to take a nap, ok?"

You aren't particularly tired, but while living here, sleep has become your greatest method of escape. You never reject a chance at it. The only thing is, right now, you don't really want to escape. You don't feel a horrible gnawing sensation from being so close to him.

However, you agree anyways because daddy knows best for you, and you don't want to make him upset.

You lie your head on his chest and snuggle up to him. He holds you close, rewarding the compliance by rubbing your back.

"Sweet dreams, babydoll," he murmurs.

You shut your eyes, allowing your mind to recede into visions of the life and people you had before this. The life you still hoped one day you would get back, even as it became more and more like a fantasy rather than a realistic future.

[asharasasylum]

I'm a Good Girl, Officer

♡  Corrupt!Cop Toji Fushiguro x Reader

author's note: Had this idea floating around my head for a little while and finally wrote something. Have an idea for a part two but promising I'll write it and publish it. warnings: non con. dub con. power imbalance. blackmail. smut. mention of drugs. stalking. dark thoughts from Toji. use of sir. 18+ MDNI

As soon as he saw you, he knew he just had to have you. Luckily for him trouble seemed to follow you.

Corrupt Officer Toji who knew from the moment he saw you stumbling down the pavement in your fancy heels, and awfully short dress, that he had to have you. You were a pretty thing– clearly dumb to be out at this hour, wearing that tiny thing that barely covered your ass cheeks. Who knew what was lurking behind the corners of the dimly lit street. You were lucky that he had spotted you first before any nasty fucker stepped out from around one of the alleyways.

He rolled his window down as he crept up behind you in his car. 

Your whole body went rigid as you twisted your body round to face the car, only to ease at the flash of red and blue lights, bringing the clack of your heels to a stop. 

“It’s awfully late to be out here by yourself,” Toji said with a stern tone, turning the lights off as he pulled up beside you. He got a good look at your face then, the dark rings of mascara around your bambi eyes and the streaky wet cheeks. “You could get yourself into a lot of trouble looking like that out here.” 

His eyes ran over you, drinking you in and he saw how you shivered under his gaze. 

“Got a friend with you?” He knew the answer, he was just seeking out confirmation. 

You shook your head, letting out on a small croak, “No, sir.” 

Sir. His slacks tightened around him, dick twitching at what a sweet thing you really were. 

His eyes darkened as he stared at you, clenching his jaw to keep himself at bay. He wanted to step out of the car then and there, tell you to drop you to your knees and use your throat as his own personal fleshlight. But you weren’t anything like the girls he usually picked up from these streets, all smiling and batting their eyelashes as soon as they saw him. They opened their legs so willingly that he was always sure to use protection with them. 

You were different. It was in the way you swallowed thickly as he watched you and how your gaze flickered around you, looking for some sort of escape. You knew not to trust him and while he could tell you were a bit stupid, you weren’t going to fall for his usual lines and open your legs for him. 

“Get in.” 

“I don’t-I-” you stumbled on your words, looking like you might sprint the second the opportune moment presented itself. 

“I’ll take you home,” he huffed with a roll of his eyes, turning to face the road ahead of him. “Trust me on this, no uber is coming here to collect you.” 

You didn’t argue at that, slipping into the back of the car behind him and falling into his trap. 

But you weren’t that stupid. 

You directed him to your place with a few words, even offering him a small smile as you thanked him with another sir falling from your lips. You knew he was watching as you stepped out of the car, walking up to your apartment complex and fumbling around with your keys in your bag as you waited for him to go. 

It was only when he pulled over around the corner did he watch you waltzing off to another direction. For this he had to actually get out of his car to follow you, finding you making your way to another apartment complex a few blocks over. 

It was a cute attempt to trick him, he’d give you that. But unfortunately for you it didn’t work. 

The second time you met had been a complete coincidence. A happy coincidence for sure. 

Toji was more accustomed to working the night shifts but today he had stepped in for another officer he owed a favour to. Only to find you when he’s called in for an armed robbery at a corner store. 

You gave him a small smile when you noticed him, wincing as you stretched your busted lip. You were holding a bag of frozen peas against it and when you moved it, turning it over to a colder side, he noticed the purple mark caught on your chin. 

“Playing hero, huh?” He teased when he came to take your statement, crouching down to where you were sitting in the staff room. 

“Didn’t mean to get in the way,” you told him with a soft pout and wet eyes. “Was just trying to help.” 

He listened to everything you had to say, jotting the notes down for every bit of description that you could give him. The bastard that robbed this store wouldn’t know what hit him after Toji would be through with him. Even if you did say you pitied the poor man. 

You were too good. 

“Thank you, Officer…” you trailed off, narrowing your eyes as you tried to make out his name tag.

“Fushiguro,” he answered for you, bearing a wide grin. 

“Fushiguro,” you repeated bashfully. 

The third time you met had planned on his end. After watching you through the window of your apartment getting changed into that tiny bit of fabric you called a dress, he knew that he had to watch over you. Who knew what sort of trouble you’d find yourself into tonight, especially with the friends you associated yourself with. 

He didn’t plan this meeting because he hadn’t been able to get the image of you out of his head all week— or the fact he’d spent the last few nights beating his meat to the sound of your voice spinning around in his head. Sir. Officer Fughiguro.

No, they weren’t the reasons at all. 

It was all because of how your ass was barely covered in that dress and the way he knew that by the end of the night you’d find yourself in the same situation he had caught you in only two weeks ago. Only if he weren’t around it would be some other sick fucker that’d have you folded over in some dingy alleyway. 

He hadn’t realised he had been staring at you from the other side of the bar, only catching on when one of your friends noticed him and giggled turning to the table. 

All of your table looked over at him then, smiling widely as they got a good look at him. He hated the stares but he didn’t back away not when your gaze fell upon him, finally getting a good look at him without his uniform on. 

You clearly didn’t recognise him at first, not until his eyes locked with yours and you quickly found yourself looking away. It was then he was sure it clicked.

He wasn’t at all surprised with your friends’ attempts to flirt with him, flinging themselves his way as they passed him at the bar. But he had been surprised at how you didn’t even approach him, not even a smile as you made your way past him to get to the toilet. 

To say he was annoyed was an understatement, Toji was thinking of wrapping his hands around your throat and watching as you wheezed each time his thick fingers tightened their grip. 

It was what had him following you to the toilet the fourth time you passed him, not even bothering to hide the fact he was hot on your heels. He waited outside the bathroom stalls, tapping his foot impatiently as his hands reached out to catch you at the first chance he got. 

Toji wasn’t sure if it was pure luck, or the fact you clearly weren’t all that bright after a few drinks but something was working out for him. Because when you stumbled out of the bathroom, a little bag of powder fell from underneath your dress, landing in the inch of space between you and him. 

“It isn’t mine, I swear,” you instantly said, panic washing over you. You stepped backwards into the dim corridor, cursing under your breath. 

“This isn’t what I expected at all.” He crouched down, tutting as he picked up the powdered substance. “Want to explain.” 

“It’s not mine,” was all you could tell him. 

“It definitely belongs to someone, sweetheart,” he said, pulling his handcuffs from his back pocket. “So want to tell me which one of your friends this belongs to?” 

Your eyes widened when you looked up at him, breath catching in your throat as you realised what was about to happen. 

He had you right where he wanted you. There was no way you would give up one of your friends and even if you did, the drugs fell from underneath your dress, not any of theirs. 

“Please,” you pleaded with him, falling further back into the hallway. 

Toji followed you though, matching your short quickened steps with his slower strides. He held out the cuffs, practically jingling them in your face. 

Your lips parted but you were caught like a mouse in a trap with nothing left to say. 

“I feel like you’re normally such a good girl so I’m feeling a little generous.” 

He almost chuckled at the way relief washed over your face and your body relaxed at his words. Almost.

“So I won’t handcuff you and parade you around for the whole bar to see,” he told you, placing the handcuffs back behind him. “But that means I need you to be a good girl and follow me out the back to my car.” 

It was clear in the way your eyes grew wet that you didn’t want to go with him but you weren’t going to fight him on this. 

Toji didn’t even bother driving you home to have his way with you. He lasted all of thirty seconds before he found a secluded spot in the parking lot and shoved you into the back seat, him following shortly behind. before shoving you into the back seat with him following. 

You hadn’t been so willing at first but after a few threats of sleeping behind bars for the night, you become pliant in his hands. 

It was how you found yourself straddling his waist, holding yourself up slightly as Toji had his way with you. 

You whimpered when he slid a third finger into you, barely able to hear the mumble of his, something about getting you fully stretched out for him. You felt so full and if his thick digits were anything to go off of, you were sure that the bulge in his pants was going to leave you ruined. 

“Officer,” you whined, at the feel of his palm brushing over your clit. 

“Officer Fushiguro,” he corrected, curling his fingers inside of you. “You’re dripping, baby.” 

That you were. Your pussy had made a mess all over his pants, a wet patch forming underneath you. He wasn’t upset by it though, not with the way his eyes grinned down at the sight, continuing his antics as he continued to thrust his fingers deep inside you. 

“Please, sir.” 

You didn’t exactly know what you were begging for but you begged anyway, staring at him with wet eyes and pouty lips. 

“Please,” you repeated, clenching around him. 

You had wanted to cum, you had wanted it so bad but instead you found yourself bouncing on his dick, being painfully stretched out by his girth. 

He held you up, using you as a toy as he fucked himself into you. He didn’t even stop when you sobbed against him, begging him to be gentler with you. Instead he pounded into you like a crazed bull until the pain was only a slight sore tinge and the pleasure finally began to take over. Until all that was left to fall from your lips were desperate sighs of either ‘Sir’ or ‘Fushiguro’. 

“Tomorrow I’ll let you call me Toji,” he groaned in your ear as his pace became sloppy and his thrusts became hard. “But tonight I really like the way you address me.” His tone changed, mocking you as he repeated your words. “Officer Fushiguro.” He chuckled, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Go on, say it again.” 

“Officer-” you struggled to get out, your words getting caught on your own moans. 

“Say it,” he warned, his hand painfully tightening around your hip. 

“Officer Fushiguro.” 

Your climax hit you hard at that and you screamed at the sudden way your pussy was leaking all over him and your knees almost buckled under your weight. 

It had Toji laughing at that, grinning into the crook of your neck as he finally let go himself. 

You only realised he was finished when he pulled himself out of you and you felt his warm cum spilling out of you as he pressed a hand against your stomach. Even though you knew that letting him cum inside you was a terrible idea, there was no way you were going to protest against him and in your state, you were honestly too fucked out to care, collapsing onto him. 

You also knew that you shouldn’t rest against him— that you shouldn’t fall into his arms so easily. You knew how happy he would be to have you so docile on top of him, already feeling the chuckle rumble in his chest. 

And Toji was happy. Even though he was never going to admit it, he was overjoyed with the way he had ruined you into submission. It had only taken one round to get you like this and he couldn’t help but imagine what you’d be like after four. 

But he let that thought slip to the back of his mind as he traced his finger into the sweaty skin of your back. 

“Officer Fushiguro,” you called, tilting your head up to catch his gaze. 

He hummed, giving you a small nod to carry on with what you were about to ask. 

“Will you take me home now?” You asked. 

“I’ll take you home,” he answered, with a sly smirk. “We can continue this there.” 

Your body tensed in his grip, moving to peel yourself away from him only to be harshly yanked back to your spot. 

“And you can call me Toji when we’re not fucking.”

(Dividers by @cafekitsune)

reblogs and comments are always appreciated

[erwinsvow]

what if… rafe ever hit shy reader from built up anger like more of an accident? we lowk need some rafe and shy reader angst😢

this kind of slayed me.. i feel like disclosure i do not condone abuse of any sort i just think shy reader would like getting slapped around and being really roughhoused..

but if rafe reallyyy got mad about it, it might be angsty. like if she really messed up and was apologizing a ton if he actually was mad at her her heart would stop. warning rafe is rlly mean in this

being a little whiney, a little too needy and maybe excessively touchy came easily to you as rafe's girlfriend. he was always coaxing you into being more comfortable with him, and you think you'd finally reached that point.

some of your shyer tendencies seemed to have finally abandoned you when it was just the two of you. and just like you had guessed, a smaller, more possessive side of you had recently emerged from the cocoon—wanting all of rafe's attention, all the time.

it wasn't good, maybe a small part of you knew that, but it was easy to play into it, and you liked how you felt these days, more comfortable in your skin and around rafe than you had been even just a month ago.

like today. you had been a little needy all day, not wanting rafe to leave when he said he needed to go to barry's for picking something up.

"ple-ease rafe," you said it a little singsongy, serious but not that serious. "don't go. i want you to stay." it was more just wanting to hang out with him than anything else—when he left, he was usually gone for ages, and things weren't that fun without him.

"i'll be back, kid. jus' stay here, got it?"

"but you said you would-"

"kid." the way he says it, you should have realized he wasn't in the mood for you to be behaving like this.

"yesterday you said you were free all day. and i get bored-"

"yesterday i didn't know i was doin' this shit. just, please. sit tight. i'll be back."

rafe goes, and though a part of you knows you shouldn't, you blow up his phone throughout the day. really, you're not even that bored—showering and getting ready for the day and then curling up with your book after you make rafe's bed, but you played a little too far into it.

when he comes back, you should have realized something was off—but you let everything else cloud your judgement. the way rafe is never mean to you (despite the stories you had heard), how he always reassures you that he's not mad and that you didn't do anything wrong. you were led to a false belief that nothing you could do would change how rafe acts towards you.

rafe comes to sit on the bed near your feet, and you lower your book to look at him, but don't say anything. when he turns to look at you, you bring the book back up so it looks like you weren't peeking.

"c'mon. y'mad now?"

"no."

"kid, i don't have time for this-"

"you didn't answer any of my texts! or calls. and i've just been waiting here all day-" you don't know what you want—attention, quality time, an apology. you just want something other than what you're getting.

"i told you i'd be back. had shit to take care of-"

"well, i just-"

"why're you actin' like this? huh?"

you think rafe's gonna ask you the things he always does—what's wrong? did someone say something? do i need go have a talk with 'em?

but he doesn't this time.

"spoiled your ass too much and now you wanna talk back? is that it?" you're so taken aback, you think all the air has left your lungs. did rafe really think that? he stands up, so you do too, facing rafe while he paces.

"no, i just-" you're being defensive, like always. you feel like crying—you thought rafe knew you better than that, but it's also not his fault. maybe you were acting too spoiled after all, and maybe despite what he always says, he preferred you how you were when you first started dating him.

"you think m'goin out there to paint nails and gossip with barry? we had shit to do. real shit, so i can take care of you. i thought you understood that."

when you start crying, you think rafe will stop—he always does, stopping to apologize and make sure you're okay.

"tears. great. i'm tryna explain this to you. are you gonna cry everytime i get serious? huh?" it comes out a little more like a bark than a sentence—now you're scared.

"i-i'm sorry," you get out, though it's strangled in a sob and sounds more like a whisper. you don't think he heard you, but your feelings are so hurt—the rush from thinking rafe would be happy to be back home with you crashing and burning quickly, the pit in your stomach that doesn't blame him—but rather blames yourself for your behavior.

you had gotten too comfortable, too pampered, thinking that acting like this was okay—briefly you think it's not rafe's fault at all for getting mad, that it's your own fault for this happening.

you think it's best if you leave, dejectedly heading towards the door, but the second he catches you trying to walk away, he rushes over, pushing you against the door before you can even open it. your back thuds against the frame.

"rafe, you're hurting me-" you cry out, but he seems to be lost in his own anger. "please-"

"didn't say you can leave. what the hell are you doin'? you tryin' to make me mad? huh?"

"rafe, m'sorry, i-"

"actin' like this 'cause you wanna get slapped around? is that it? y'like that too much, don't you? you want me to slap you around now?"

your heart feels like it's just stopped beating. the very idea that rafe would bring up something you had just gotten comfortable with liking, only recently convinced yourself—with his help—that it wasn't wrong or dirty to like those kinds of things with him—slapping and spanking and a whole host of other things you had never even talked about, much less actually done, with anyone other than rafe, in this situation, made fat tears slip down your cheeks.

your boyfriend didn't seem like himself right now. and you were so distraught, if you were a little more clear-headed you might realize his bloodshot, dilated eyes and shaky hands. your arm hurts from where he's holding you tightly.

"rafe, please-" you get out through tears, and he lets you go a little. you slide out of his grip and stay against the door, still crying. before you can even think about it, your cheek is stinging.

he does slap you—not in the light, playful way he does when it's just the two of you somewhere or in the slightly rougher manner reserved for bed—this one is harder, everything hurting.

after it happens, you look up at rafe through glassy eyes. your fingers go to your cheek, pressing down where it was painful, like it would help it go away. but you knew deep down nothing could ever erase this memory.

you look up at rafe and he looks down at you. when you try to turn to open the door, he presses down and slams it shut before you can get out.

[number1jeonginstan]

Hii juu can i request mean dom jeongin making reader wear a vibrator to dinner with all the members

-🥟

A/N: I really hope you like this!! I wanted to do something kinda crazy... but like not too crazy, so I hope it's good. I think I might turn this into a series, but we will see!! Thank you so much for such a good ask, and it was so fun to write!

Pairing: afab!reader x I.N.

WC: 3.6k

CW: Vonyerism, dom!Jeongin, Jeongin called daddy, vibrator usage, idk what else...

"You ready to go sweetheart?"

"I'm almost done, I just need to find my earring" you muttered back, searching high and low for the earring that you swore you just had in your hand mere minutes ago.

Jeongin chuckled, watching you search. "Do you need any help?" He teased, leaning against the door frame with his hands in his pockets.

"Yes please" you whined, crawling on your hands and knees trying to get a feel for it in the carpet, your dress riding up your body.

Jeongin's breath hitched, his eyes tracing the expanse of exposed flesh. He took a few steps forward, kneeling behind you. "You know, you're making this difficult sweetheart." He whispered in your ear.

"Jeongin, we have a dinner with your members to get to, we are not doing this now" you whined, feeling his body pressed ever so slightly against you.

Jeongin chuckled, his hands slowly moving to your hips. "Are you sure you don't want to skip that dinner?" He teased, leaning down to place a kiss on your neck. His hands slowly inched up your dress, caressing your bare skin.

"Yang Jeongin" you deadpanned, using his full name to try and get some authority over him. "It's a dinner that Chan planned almost two months in advance, we are not skipping it just because you saw a bit of my skin, which might I add, you saw this morning"

Jeongin chuckled, his lips trailing up your neck, leaving a trail of kisses. "I know, I know." He said, his hands still roaming under your dress. "But do you honestly expect me to keep my hands off you when you're dressed like that?" He whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

"For right now, yes"

Jeongin sighed in feigned reluctance, pulling back slightly. "You're no fun, you know that?" He teased, moving his hands down and giving your ass a firm squeeze.

You rolled your eyes, before perking up, an idea manifesting in your mind. 

"If you really want, we could do that one thing you always wanted to try" you grinned rushing to your bedside drawer, holding up a tiny bullet vibrator

Jeongin's eyes darkened with lust as he looked at the toy. "Oh,” he muttered quickly before moving towards you. 

“You really want to play dangerous games today, huh baby?"

He quickly crossed the room, pushing you down on the bed before climbing on top to hover over you.

"As long as you promise to actually go to dinner, I'll let you use it on me the entire time"

Jeongin's eyes widened, his lips curving into a smirk. "You really are trying to tempt me with a good time?" He asked, his voice low and husky.

"I mean, as long as it gets you out the door Daddy" you giggled, playing with the object in your hand. You slowly twirled it in between your fingers, dangling it in front of his face. He looked like a dog begging for his owner to throw him a bone. 

Jeongin's eyes locked onto the toy, his hands gripping your hips to keep himself steady. He leaned forward, his lips barely brushing against your ear. "You're playing a dangerous game here. You know what that does to me." He whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

"What does it do?" you whispered, looking at him with faux innocence.

Jeongin growled, his hands tightening their grip on your hips. "You know exactly what it does to me, little tease." He said, his voice rough with desire. "It makes me want to do all sorts of things to you."

"Why don't we do all those things at dinner?" you giggled, slowly slipping the vibrator in yourself, before getting off the bed, and pushing him off of you.

Jeongin stumbled back, his eyes widening as he watched you. "You can't be serious-" He protested, but the grin on his face betrayed him.

"Why not Innie? You were the one who said you wanted to try it out?" you grinned before going back to looking for your lost earring.

Jeongin let out a low moan, his eyes practically glued to you. "You're killing me here." He said, his voice roughened by desire. 

You slowly turned to him pouting. "We are getting late and this stupid thing is nowhere to be found" 

"You mean this stupid thing?" 

He slowly pulled out the earring from his pants pocket, dangling it in front of you.

You looked at him, an expression of surprise and annoyance on your face. "You had it this entire time?" You said, your irritation quickly fading at the sight of Jeongin's smug grin.

"If you give me my earring back, I'll give you the remote"

Jeongin chuckled, holding out the earring for you to take. "You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart." He said, handing over the earring reluctantly.

"Yeah, yeah, now let's get going before the boys beat you up"

You quickly put on the earring before slipping on your shoes, and heading out the door. You stood there goosebumps on your arms waiting for Jeongin to unlock the car until you started to feel the pulse of the vibrator inside of you. You quickly hunched over as he came out of your apartment, a smirk on his face.

"What was that for" you screamed, the vibrator still buzzing inside of you.

Jeongin chuckled, the smirk on his face widening. "It's just a little preview of what's to come sweetheart." He said, opening the passenger door for you. "Now get in."

You quickly got into the car, the vibrations of the toy setting your body on fire. Jeongin hopped into the driver's seat, starting the car. He glanced over at you, enjoying the way you fidgeted in your seat.

"Can we at least turn it off before dinner" you begged, your head pressed against the cool window to try and get any relief. Your entire body gets hotter and hotter by the second.

It didn't help that Jeongin had brought his hand down to your thigh, rubbing it as he slightly turned up the vibrations.

Jeongin chuckled, his fingers tracing circles on your sensitive inner thigh. "And miss out on the fun? I don't think so." He said, his smirk growing wider. "Just relax and enjoy the ride."

"Please Innie, it hurts, I'm gonna cum soon if you keep this up" you hiccuped, your eyes beginning to swell with tears.

Jeongin glanced over at you, his smirk faltering slightly when he saw the tears in your eyes. He paused for a moment, contemplating. "Alright, but just for a few minutes, okay sweetheart?"

He turned the vibrations down but kept his hand on your thigh, caressing it gently.

"Thank you Daddy"

Jeongin's breath hitched at the name, his grip tightening on your thigh. "You're welcome sweetheart" he replied, his voice rough. He kept driving, his hand occasionally tracing along your inner thigh, sending shivers up and down your spine.

After a few minutes, Jeongin turned the vibrations back up to the highest setting, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "We're almost there, sweetheart. Just hold on a little longer." He said, his tone cocky.

"Fuck!" you screamed, bringing your fist up to your hand, your lipstick smearing ever so slightly on your knuckles as you bit down on them, trying to contain your moans.

Jeongin chuckled, his eyes never leaving the road. "You're doing so well, sweetheart." He said, his hand squeezing your thigh once more. "But we're almost there, just a little more."

He knew he was testing your limits, but he was enjoying himself too much to stop.

"You promised" you gasped, your orgasm near approaching before he shut off the vibrator completely.

Jeongin chuckled, his hand rubbing your thigh. "I know, I know, sweetheart. I just couldn't help it. Seeing you so desperate and needy was too good to pass up."

He could feel the heat radiating off of you, your body desperate for release. But he kept driving, his smirk never leaving his face.

After what felt like an eternity, Jeongin finally pulled the car into the restaurant parking lot. He parked the car and turned to look at you, his eyes dark and hungry. He leaned forward, his lips ghosting over your ear. "Are you ready, sweet girl?" He whispered, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“Mhm” 

Jeongin chuckled, his hand slowly moving up your thigh. "Good girl."

He turned off the car and got out, walking over to your side. He opened the door and helped you out, his hand resting on the small of your back as he led you toward the restaurant.

As you walked inside, Jeongin leaned down to whisper in your ear again. "Remember, no moaning or drawing attention. Can you do that for me?” 

"Yes Innie" you whispered into his ear as the two of you saw the rest of the boys already sitting there.

Jeongin nodded, his hand squeezing your waist in reassurance. "Good girl."

The two of you approached the table, the other boys looking up as they saw you. "You two are late" Han scolded, a frown on his face.

"Only by five minutes, plus it isn't even my fault" you whined as you sat down, pointing at Innie who sat across from you.

"He was the one who stole my earring"

Jeongin let out a mock gasp, feigning innocence. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing? I would never" he said, pouting exaggeratedly.

The other boys rolled their eyes, not falling for Jeongin's act. "We all know it was you Jeongin" Changbin said, chuckling.

Jeongin feigned hurt, clutching his chest dramatically. "I was trying to be romantic! And it worked, didn't it?"

The other boys laughed again, shaking their heads. "Sure, Innie, sure." Lee Know said, a smirk playing on his lips.

You grinned at that, knowing the boys had a soft spot for you.

As they began to discuss their recent album release, you decided to have some fun, slowly slipping off one of your heels before running your foot along Innie's calf and slowly dragging it up higher and higher along his leg.

Jeongin's eyes widened slightly as he felt your foot against his calf. He tried to keep his face neutral, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of a reaction. But he could feel his body responding to your touch, his heart rate increasing.

He shifted in his seat, trying to get some space between your foot and his leg. But you just continued to tease him, moving higher and higher along his thigh.

"So Y/N" Chan had begun to speak, "How has your new job been, I know cyber security isn't an easy task"

Before you could even start speaking, Jeongin had turned the vibrator one once again.

You quickly coughed, trying to regain composure as the object buzzed inside of you before responding.

"It's been a bit hard to navigate, the guys on my team are a bit, how do I put this lightly, misogynistic. In the sense that they act like, I'm stupid whenever I try to speak up, but other than that it's been great”

The boys listened intently, Chan nodding his head understandingly. "That's tough." He said, empathy in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Jeongin was enjoying your little game. He sat back, watching you struggle to keep your composure as the vibrator was on. He could see the subtle shift in your body language, the slight twitch in your eye whenever the vibrations hit just right.

The boys listened intently, Chan nodding his head understandingly. "That's tough." He said, empathy in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Jeongin was enjoying your little game. He sat back, watching you struggle to keep your composure as the vibrator was on. He could see the subtle shift in your body language, the slight twitch in your eye whenever the vibrations hit just right.

Jeongin chuckled to himself, amused by the way you were trying so hard to keep your cool while the vibrator was going. He could see the slight flush in your cheeks, the way your hands were gripping the edge of the table.

He decided to take things up a notch, increasing the intensity of the vibrations. He watched as your eyes widened slightly, your body tensing up.

"But yeah, the pay makes it worth it." You said, your voice strained as Jeongin continued to increase the intensity of the vibrator. You tried to continue on with the conversation, but the pleasure was becoming too much to handle. You shifted in your seat, trying to find a position that would make the sensations less intense, but to no avail.

You tried to keep the conversation going, but your mind was slowly being taken over by the pleasure.

"You okay?" Seungmin looked at your flushed face, confused as to why you seemed all fidgety all of a sudden.

"Yeah, I've just not been feeling that great for the past couple of days, but I couldn't miss out on seeing you guys"

The boys nodded in understanding, their faces full of concern. "You should have said something, we could have easily rescheduled," Chan said, his eyes worried.

Meanwhile, Jeongin continued to play with the controls, turning the vibrator on and off at random intervals.

"It's okay Chan, I didn't want you guys to find another time in your busy schedule" you almost whimpered, but composed yourself.

"Plus, I think I just needed to get out of the house"

The boys nodded once again, their concern still present. But Jeongin's face had taken on a mischievous look. He could tell you were struggling to keep your composure. The others may have been fooled, but he knew exactly what was happening.

He turned the vibrator all the way up, watching as you struggled to contain a moan.

You tried to keep a neutral expression on your face as the intensity of the vibrations nearly sent you over the edge. You gritted your teeth, fighting to maintain control as Jeongin continued to play with the controls, increasing and decreasing the intensity at his will.

The boys were still talking, completely oblivious to what was happening underneath the table.

Changbin had ended up making a joke, causing everyone to burst out laughing, allowing you to let out a subtle moan, your body begging for relief.

Jeongin chuckled as he heard the moan that escaped your lips. He had a feeling you were going to make a sound sooner or later, but the boys didn't seem to notice, still caught up in their own conversation.

He continued to toy with the controls, turning up the intensity and watching as your body grew more and more restless.

You kicked Jeongin under the table, giving him your best puppy dog eyes to try and plead him to stop, your body so close to cumming that you didn't know if you could control it anymore, your brain slowly turning to mush.

Jeongin chuckled as you kicked him, his eyes dark with amusement. He saw the look of desperation on your face, the pleaded in your eyes. And to be honest, he was enjoying himself way too much to stop.

He leaned back in his chair, a cocky grin on his face. He continued to play with the controls of the vibrator, taking a sip of his drink as he watched you squirm.

"So, what is for dessert" Han questioned, his cheeks filled with the last bite of his food.

You hadn't even noticed that so much time had passed, the only thing your brain focused on was not to cum in front of some of your closest friends.

Before you could even try and respond, Jeongin spoke up. "I know exactly what I want" he smirked, looking directly at you.

"And what's that?" Han asked, oblivious to what he had just implied.

"Tiramisu Cake sounds delicious"

Jeongin knew exactly what he was doing, his comment laced with an undertone that only you and he understood. The others chuckled, thinking nothing of it.

Meanwhile, Jeongin continued to toy with the controls, watching as your body grew even more restless. He knew you were close to cumming, but he wasn't done with you yet.

The conversation continued, the boys discussing their favorite desserts. But you could barely focus on anything other than the intense vibrations pulsing through your body.

Jeongin watched your face, loving the way you struggled to maintain composure. He could tell you were close, and he was determined to push you over the edge. He continued to toy with the controls, increasing the intensity even further.

You shifted in your seat, your hands gripping the edge of the table. You were so close to the edge, the pleasure building and building with no release in sight.

The boys were still clueless as to what was unfolding underneath the table, continuing to chat and laugh amongst themselves. But Jeongin's eyes were locked on you, watching as your body trembled with the need for release.

He loved seeing you fall apart like this, the way you struggled to hold back your moans and gasps, the way your knuckles turned white as you gripped the table. He knew you were on the brink of your release, but he wasn't ready to give in just yet.

He increased the intensity even further, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Lee Know muttered, causing all the boys to look in your and Jeongin's direction.

"Keep this kinky shit at home, or else next time invite us" he groaned, throwing his head back as all the boys began to watch as you writhed since Jeongin decided it was a good idea to turn the vibrator on the highest setting.

"Yeah Innie, share your girl with your hyungs" Hyunjin grinned, pinching Innie's face before going back to watching how your body convulsed on the vibrator.

"Let it go baby" Chan whispered into your ear, slowly rubbing your arm and then thigh.

You ended up cumming right there, your eyes closed tight shut. Your body shaking ever so slightly. Your head pressed into Chan's shoulder as you began to moan ever so slightly in his ear.

"Fuck Innie" he growled, “you never told us she sounded this fucking sweet”

Jeongin smirked, watching the way your body convulsed under the impact of the vibrator. He loved seeing you lose control like this, knowing that he had the power to reduce you to a trembling mess.

The other boys were watching intently, their eyes fixed on your face as you came undone in front of them. Jeongin's smirk widened at their reactions. He knew they were enjoying the show.

Chan's whispered words in your ear caused a shiver to run down your spine. You could feel the heat radiating off his body as he rubbed your arm and thigh in a soothing motion.

The other boys continued to watch, their eyes darkened with desire. Hyunjin's voice broke the silence, his tone low and seductive. "Such a good girl, enjoying yourself so much. "

Jeongin's grin widened, loving the way the boys were reacting to your display. Your body was still trembling from the aftershocks of the orgasm, but Jeongin wasn't done with you yet.

He leaned forward, his breath hot against your ear. "Are you ready for more, sweetheart?" He asked, his voice dripping with mischievousness.

The boys watched intently, their eyes fixed on you and Jeongin. Chan's hand on your arm was still rubbing soothingly, trying to calm your trembling body.

"Enough, please" you whined, squirming next to Chan.

Jeongin chuckled, enjoying the way you were pleading for mercy. But he was having too much fun to stop now.

The boys watched as you squirmed and whined, their expressions a mix of amused and aroused. Chan's hand continued to rub your arm, but his eyes remained fixed on Jeongin's expression.

"You're so sweet when you beg, sweetheart" Jeongin purred in your ear, his hand reaching out to grab your chin, tipping your head back to look up at him.

The boys continued to watch, their eyes dark with desire as they watched Jeongin's hand on your chin, holding your face up to look at him. Chan's hand on your arm had stilled, but his grip tightened slightly as he watched the way Jeongin was handling you.

"But I don't think I'm quite done with you yet," Jeongin said, his voice dripping with mischief. He turned to look at the other boys, a sly grin on his face. "What do you think, guys? Should I give her a break? Or keep going?"

"Give her a break" Seungmin sighed, leaning back in his chair as he stared at you, a small smirk splayed on his lips. "She needs all the rest she can get before I play with her tomorrow"

"Isn't that what you said in the group chat Innie?" he chuckled as he looked at your furrowed brows.

"Did Innie not tell you pup? This was his plan all along"

Jeongin smirked, his hand still on your face. "That's right, I did tell them. I wanted them to know how well I'm taking care of you"

He glanced over at the other boys, a hint of pride in his eyes. They all chuckled, clearly amused by Jeongin's antics.

"But fine, I'll give her a break," Jeongin said, his hand finally releasing your chin.

The boys let out a collective sigh of relief, their eyes still fixed on you and Jeongin. Chan's hand on your arm had relaxed, his touch now gentle again.

Jeongin leaned back in his chair, a satisfied expression on his face. He had had his fun toying with you, and now it was time for him to bask in the aftermath.

The boys settled back into their chairs as well, continuing their previous conversation. But every now and then, their gazes would flick over to you, taking in your still trembling form.

“Tomorrow” he mouthed, grinning at the way your eyes brightened at the thought of his members fucking you. 

[hispg]

Little bunny

Pairings: R4! Leon X Fem! Reader

Summary: You riled him up. It's totally your fault for using this bunny outfit. Now, bear the consequences.

Wc: 2.5k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, mirror sex, soft!Dom Leon, pet names, light dirty talk.

An: Hi Hi, sorry for the recent absence, I haven't replied to any asks or comments. And sorry for the absence, don't get me wrong.I have to sort out some things in my personal life, and frankly my mental state isn't the best. From yesterday to today I had two terrible mental breakdowns.I don't like to talk too much about my personal problems here, but I don't think it's fair to ghost everyone. Anyway, I just wanted to say that my next posts will be scheduled,(I'll see if I have any ready works to post, and hopefully I do), and I'll probably be back around February 5th or so. If I feel better I'll come back sooner, but I need some time to breathe.Don't worry, I'll reply to each and every one of you as soon as I get back! I apologize for the inconvenience, but I promise I'll come back better and respond to every kind interaction I've received!

Sorry for the long rant, but I kind of needed it. Thanks for your attention so far💕

"Look at me, love." Leon purred in your ear, watching you through the mirror.

Your legs spread, his fingers buried in your wet pussy, your cream dripping down his fists and onto the floor, making a mess where you sat.

Your lips hanging open as you moaned, your head resting on his shoulder as you couldn't even open your eyes without rolling them.

It was all so dirty, the mirror bearing witness to the scene that was unfolding. You in a bunny outfit, all dolled up for a party, it wasn't your intention to make Leon horny.

But what did you expect? Sending him a photo of you in that bodysuit, your ass reflected in the mirror and you making a naughty face. Of course Leon would come running to see you. How could he not?

You wanted to get his attention, since he hadn't been able to talk to you all day, so you had the brilliant idea of sending him these provocative photos. And indeed, you got his attention, and at the same moment he left all his chores and came running to see you.

Now you had to deal with him.

"All that for me, love?" Leon purred in your ear, using his thumb to massage your clit.

You hung your head again, letting the hoarse whimpers escape your throat every time he sank his fingers into you, hitting those weak spots that made you soft in his arms.

His mouth found its way to your neck, sucking and licking at the area, his teeth rubbing against your flesh lightly. His little smile only widened when he felt you tighten around his fingers, you were almost there once again.

You felt that familiar feeling forming in the pit of your stomach, your mind getting messy and unfocused, you just had attention at that moment.

Leon also sensed that you were close, watching your expression through the mirror. It was so exciting that he could stare for hours.

Your wet cunt welcoming his fingers so well, so slippery and warm that he could spend all day fingering you, without a break.

"So beautiful, look at you," Leon says, holding your jaw and making you look in the mirror.

Your face flushed, your cheeks as red as an apple, your glassy eyes that begged for his touches. Leon made a point of fucking you while you were still in that bunny costume you were wearing, just to see how hot and beautiful you looked.

"You only did that for a good fuck, didn't you? You wanted to get my attention, didn't you?" Leon whispers sensuously, using his thumb to tug at your clit viciously.

The way he spoke to you was enough to make you roll your eyes, your pussy clenching painfully tight around his fingers, you could bet that this time you wouldn't hold back.

"N-no, that wasn't it…" You moaned, rolling your eyes once more, feeling his fingers touching that weak spot of yours.

You heard Leon's chuckle, and he once again lifted your face, making you stare into the mirror once more.

"Open your eyes, princess. You look so beautiful when you come." Leon said softly, admiring your reactions.

And that was enough to get you there, you just felt your white cream being oozed out of your body, your eyes rolling back as you held onto his forearms tightly.

It was so dirty, the way you whimpered so slyly, his name sliding out of your mouth as you came. Leon kept holding your face, making you see the mess you'd made of yourself.

Through the mirror you could see him staring at you with those blue eyes, the corners of his curved into a naughty smile as he watched your fluids dripping from you.

And there he went, making you come for the thousandth time that night.And when he kept fingering you even after orgasm, you couldn't help yourself and started whimpering even more.

"Leon, stop, it's too much!" You whispered, pouting as you tried to win his pity.

But no, it wouldn't work this time.

"No, I'm sure you can take it." He says, slapping your clit, watching your every reaction.

You whimpered, keeping your pout while he played with your body. By this time Leon's cock was throbbing, aching as it was trapped in his pants, even he could feel his pre-cum soaking through his underwear.

But even though you were struggling to take it one more time, you cried out when he stopped stroking you, when you felt the emptiness he left when he took his fingers out of you.

He had better plans for you now, he wanted to watch a bit at that moment. He then sat down on his knees, leaning back as he saw your legs spread in that dirty way.

"Touch yourself." He demands, his voice low and husky, causing a chill to run down your spine.

You widened your eyes at his demand, biting your lip as you saw him undo his belt, push his pants down and pull it all out at once, his cock jutting out at the same moment.

Pinky tip, flushed, and swollen. The clear and perfect sign of the effect you had on him. Leon wasted no time in wrapping his hand around his dick, grunting as he lazily stroked his length.

You then began to do as he asked, keeping your legs open while you delicately placed your index finger on your clit, making small circles on the sensitive part.

"Keep going." Leon says, biting his lip as he watched you, he began to jerk off with more speed, keeping his gaze on you.

"But… I'd rather it was you." You say, looking at him with sly little eyes.

"If you do what I ask, I can give you what you want all night long." He says, fisting himself as he watches you rub your fingers over your clit.

So wet, soaking wet just thinking about the possibility of him fucking you, even if only with his fingers.

He noticed every detail, your hips rocking as you touched yourself and searched for more friction, right up to the point where you put a finger inside yourself, arching your back and moaning softly.

In one swift movement he moved behind you once more, wrapping one of his arms around your waist while pressing his chest against your back. And in the same instant you felt his size in your folds, his cock rubbing against you, making you both moan at the same time.

He forced you down, making his cock move back and forth in your pussy lips, making you squirm and try to get away from him.

Your movements on your clit stopped, and he growled in protest at your interrupted act. You felt his fingers sinking into your hips, just as he began to fuck you while maintaining total control.

"Keep going." He murmured, in an authoritative yet heated voice.

You obeyed, pressing your finger back into your clit, moaning even louder as you began to feel his balls slapping against you, he moved back and forth, his length grinding against your folds as he held you tight.

And you couldn't contain the moan you let out when you saw the trail of pre-cum running down his cock, making you salivate even more.

At that point you didn't know who was making more of a mess, you or him. Not least because even he couldn't hold back his grunts when he heard the wet, lubricated sounds that filled both your ears, along with your moans and grunts that mixed and became one.

"I'm close—" You moan, biting your lip as you look at Leon.

The image was what you needed to feel your cunt clenching around nothing, your body heating up as you felt your orgasm building more and more.

Leon fucking you from behind, his nails digging into your hips, to the point of leaving marks the next day. His cock emerging and plunging from your folds, your pussy lips becoming swollen from the repetitive movement that was driving you crazy.

You then began to move along with him, your hips moving back and forth, you couldn't hold back the sound that came from your lips every time you felt his balls slap against you. Heavy and full, slamming so hard against you that you could feel your skin heating up and burning with every thrust.

When you started rubbing your clit more fervently, he noticed, and soon grunted in your ear in a bossy voice:

"Pull out." He says, looking down at your fingers that were massaging your sensitive buddy.

Maybe it was just a way of being mean to you, to hold off your orgasm for as many times as he wanted.

"But… I'm so close!" You whimper, looking at him with the sly little eyes you were an expert at making.

"What a shame." He purrs, taking your arms and stopping you from continuing what you were doing.

He then took both your arms, holding them behind you, his hand firmly wrapped around your wrist while the other went back to holding tightly onto your hip.

Leon couldn't help himself and smiled when he saw the mess you'd made of his cock, to the point where there was an absurd amount of the creams oozing out of you.

So dirty, doing all this fussing while he was just teasing you, what a dirty little girl, but that's what you wanted, wasn't it?

"Mh, didn't you want my attention?" He purred once more, holding you tightly as he moved back and forth, rubbing his cock against you once again.

You could feel his warm breath on your neck, his lips lightly touching your skin, and he made a point of giving you little bites, leaving his mark.

"My pretty little bunny, making a mess on my cock." He whispered, in a sensual and provocative way, almost making you feel ashamed of what you were doing.

But it wasn't that, he was proud. Why was that? Because he knew that he was the only one who could leave you like this, and that you were all his, made just for him.

The way he spoke to you made you whimper, humping against him like a bitch in heat, sweat sticking to your forehead as you looked at him through the mirror.

His blue eyes never stopped looking at you, the way you were soaking wet, that bunny outfit that suited you so well. Or whether it was the way your breasts swayed as he grabbed you from behind, grinning shamelessly as he watched you.

And you heard his laugh as you rolled your eyes, letting a sly noise come out of your mouth in a high-pitched way. You were coming.

His hand that had been on your hip went up to your chin, and he made you look at yourself as you came once more.

"Look, bunny, how hot you are. Look at the mess." He says, forcing you to watch your fluids running down his cock, making a new mess.

Just as you saw more pre-cum coming out of him, he was so turned on watching you that he could cum just like that.

White cream dripping off him, making his cock wet and sticky, you did it the way he liked it. The way you were able to do everything the way he wanted, including not holding back while you came, was just one more success on your part.

But now came the part he was most interested in, he was going to fuck you like he loved. Just the sight of the whimpering mess you'd become was exciting, you couldn't speak more than two sentences, you couldn't do anything but moan. It was all down to him.

"You wanted some attention, didn't you?" Leon asked, putting his hand on your back and making you lie on the floor.

Your chest pressed against the cold floor, your nipples hardening even more from the contact. He was still holding your arms, keeping them pinned behind you.

You just stared at him with a pout, moaning as you watched him play with you, lightly smacking your wet pussy, eventually lightly slapping your ass. He just wanted to tease you.

"Please?" You pleaded, arching your hips towards him, only to receive a harder slap.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" Leon purrs, positioning his tip at your entrance, and taking the opportunity to rub his tip against your clit.

He knew he'd have to stop himself from cumming too quickly, because just seeing you in this position was enough for any of his fantasies, it was what he needed to see to go over the edge.

"So be it, I'm going to fuck you exactly the way you want, bunny." He says, a wicked smile on his lips.

And then without you expecting it, he thrust into you all at once, and you felt the delicious stretch he gave you every time. Your pussy stretching to accommodate him with such mastery.

You just moaned, you were incapable of doing anything else, completely drunk on his dick.

You only had time to close your eyes tightly before he started hammering into you, without the slightest pity, just fucking you hard and deep just the way you liked it.

His grip on your hips was strong, and he handled you as if you were a doll that weighed nothing, thrusting into you as he pulled you back onto his cock. Your bodies slammed together abruptly, making that filthy sound echo throughout the room.

Leon was all sweaty, his muscles flexing with every movement, and you could watch him fucking you from behind as you watched the scene in the mirror.

While Leon had the perfect view of his cock sinking into you, your warm walls engulfing him in a unique way, making him grunt at how tight you were, and how hard you could take him. Your juices leaving a white ring at the base of his cock, honeying all over him, acting as if he was the only cock for you.

It was too much for Leon, watching you moaning like that, whimpering desperately as he fucked you. His response was to pick up the pace, his balls slapping against you as his tip reached points so deep you couldn't even imagine.

It was all so fast, you didn't even have time to think as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him hard as you wet his cock even more. Your voice loud and sly, your nails gripping the carpet hard.

And that's what he needed, the last little push, the image of you cumming on his cock in such an obscene way was enough for him to grunt loudly and pump his seed into you, withdrawing his cock and sinking back in with a deep thrust, making sure to finish inside.

For a while, the only sound you could hear was your breathing, shallow and heavy, as you tried to catch your breath.

But then you caught Leon looking at you, the bunny ears that were on your head falling slightly below your face, that bodysuit that drew out your every curve.

He squeezed your hips, looking you up and down. Oh no, he wasn't finished with his bunny.

You wanted attention, and he was going to give it to you all night long.

[1-800-local-slut]

Word of Advice...

Spencer Reid x Black! Fem! Pregnant! BAU! Reader

Spencer Reid Masterlist <3

Spencer and his fiancée are having a baby, and everyone has some advice for them.

I based this on JJ's pregnancy in season 4. This is basically the three times someone gave Spencer some advice about being a dad and his fiancé some advice, I cried writing this because of hormones y'all

Warnings: pregnancy, brief mention of sex, mention of a daddy kink, nothing really, fluff, twins

Request are also open if anyone wants to send anything!

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"You know, no matter how much you research it won't help when you have to actually hold the baby."

Spencer's head jerked up from his computer, no longer fidgeting with his nails and glanced over to Derek. Tabs upon tabs of information distracted him for the past hour. 'What to do as a first time dad', 'When to Start Expecting Cravings', 'How to Prevent Diaper Rash', 'Baby-proofing 101' and more.

The office buzzed softly behind him, other agents bustling around. It was a cool morning, nice and bright but had all the cold spring air Spencer had grown to love with the early call time of his job. Hotch was up in his office, Rossi was currently in the bathroom attempting to battle some sort of meal his stomach didn't agree with, Emily called in sick, JJ had a doctors appointment and wouldn't be in until later and Penelope was busying herself with some random task.

"Sorry, what?" Derek chuckled, his eyes ran over the mess on Spencer's desk. All of his case files, the parenting books he'd bought, the cups of coffee littering the area. How was this guy gonna keep his house clean with a kid running around in it?

"Morgan is right, even though he should be focused on his work. A word of advice, its good to get into the habit of picking up as you go along. Helps in the long run, you know." Hotch appeared from nowhere, in typical Hotch fashion with words of wisdom.

It was true. Spencer Reid, at the age of 27, got his girlfriend fiancée (he was still getting used to the title) pregnant. He got her pregnant, and then all the initial joy and imaginary world where everything would be perfect everything came slightly faded for him. He suddenly remembered him and his fiancée work a hard job with hard hours and an even harder toll on the mind. But he'd been trying not to focus on that, instead just trying to stay on the constant upside.

"Well yeah. I guess coffee cups all over the place aren't gonna be helpful in trying to keep the place tidy." Spencer chuckled, tapping one of the coffee cups on his desk with a random pen.

"I’ll say. You know your girl isn’t down with the nonsense, you better keep that house spick and span if you want to keep your ass clear of a beating. And if she's gonna be the one stressing with child care it'll be safer is you just stay clean and out the way.” Derek lamented. Hotch chuckled and Spencer glanced down at his hand while he grinned.

While he wouldn’t normally wear his engagement ring to work, they weren’t in the field today (hopefully) and he may have forgotten to taken it off this morning when they decided to stay in bed for an extra 45 minutes to sleep soundly. So what was the harm in wearing it? It was a little bit of his home life he would let seep into his daily life.

"Isn't it a little bit too early for you to be looking at all of this anyways? I mean I guess it's technically never too early but she's only what a month a long?" Derek asked, settling himself to sit on the corner of Spencer's desk.

Derek pushed an empty chip bag out the way, as he had settled on the one clear part of the desk. Spencer instinctively grabbed the bag and tossed it into the small trash bin he kept under his desk.

"It's never too early! I figured the better I prepare, the better I'll be able to help out when I'm home. I want to take as much paternity leave as I can, I want to be helpful when I'm home with her." He really should be attempting to clean. A stack of papers straightened, coffee cups gathered into one hand and tossed into the bin two at a time.

"Word of advice..." Hotch grimaced, as he tapped a coffee cup that sloshed and Spence had to grab to keep it from spilling all over his desk. "If you keep your desk as clean as you intend to keep your house, she'll be sending you back to work faster than you can imagine." With a ghost of a smile, Derek chuckled and ruffled Spencer's hair. Hotch smirked, seeing Spencer's mouth hanging open, and the two decided to take their leave to go back to doing the jobs they get paid so much for.

It was true, Spencer is usually a very clean guy but sometimes things get a bit messy. And usually, his fiancée wouldn't mind as long as it wasn't too outrageous but pretty soon those pregnancy hormones would come in full force. A shiver went down his spine as he imagined facing her anger at him leaving piles of books and coffee mugs all over the living room with a chubby baby sat on her hip. Picking up the last few coffee cups, Spencer straightened up his desk once more and finally tried to focus on work.

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"Morning JJ, you want some coffee?" Of course, I was joking. The joke was that JJ (who had recently returned from her maternity leave) was pleased that she could drink coffee again. If anyone bounced right back from pregnancy it was Jennifer Jareau. She looked flawless, glowing even more after her pregnancy. I can only pray to have that same miraculous recovery.

I couldn't drink coffee, the smell making me sick now. Of course I already couldn't have it, you know growing a baby, but it was far easier to resist the temptation.

A job like this has you running on caffeine, quitting cold turkey was like stopping cigarettes over night. Now I settled for some decaf tea, like peppermint or lemon and ginger.

"So, how's things going for the first term?" JJ chuckled, as I placed my spoon down on the counter and blew on the tea. This morning was some hot apple cider with cinnamon and I had a nice everything bagel on the side with some cream cheese spread over it.

"Well I've had too pee every sixty seconds, my tits are expanding with every second, and everything I eat makes me gain forty pounds thanks to bloating. So, great." The happy mood I had this morning was gone. I got to work and suddenly I wanted to put my fist through the steering wheel. And for some reason, Spencer's aftershave was making me want to cry. He just smelt so good, and he looked so good driving us to work, and lately he's just so handsome. Maybe it's knowing that we were about to have a bundle of joy?

"Mood swings getting you, huh?" JJ chuckled, turning around and heading to her desk as I followed behind.

"I'm ready to stop coming in now, I don't know how you were here up until you gave birth. You literally went into labor, I'm ready to go home now. Right now." I scoffed, and grumbled in irritation. I was even ready to stop wearing heels to work.

It felt like at any moment, I would just explode. That extra 45 minutes of sleep helped very, very little.

"Well, a word of advice, positive self talk is so helpful. I don't know why but when I was pregnant everything Will did drove me up a wall, I'm talking I wanted to take down his side of the bed only." JJ chuckled as we approached our desks. I slid into my seat, chuckling. JJ threw down her jacket, a push present from Will, and stretched.

Across the bull pen, Derek and Penelope walked past giggling about something. The two of them thick as thieves like always. The Sun had fully risen, and the world was wide awake. Cars honked outside, the team was wondering around on the floor and of course with no reason to be in the field today it was time to hunker down.

Sit down, do some paper work, the whole 9-5. I couldn't focus on the 9-5 though, hormones driving me to run into my fiancé's arms. To smell him, to hug him and remind him just how much I love him by showering him with hugs and kisses.

"How would you even take down his half?" I laughed as a blew on the cider and opening the file on my desk.

"I was looking at chainsaw's on Amazon, I had a plan I just needed to do it." JJ shrugged, opening her own case file and looking up at me through her lashes.

"Listen, my point is, you just have to try to talk to yourself. You're mind is vulnerable right now to all sorts of crazy emotions. You might suddenly hate everything about Spencer. You can randomly wake up and decide you hate him, you hate yourself, you hate the way your house looks, and that you should just take your baby and run away but you have to remember to keep yourself grounded in reality." With a soft sigh and took a sip of my tea, glancing over my shoulder to make sure he wasn't about to hear what I was about to say.

"I'm having the opposite issue with Spencer. I want to like, live in his skin." Was I ashamed to admit it? No. Was it slightly embarrassing to say it out loud? Yes.

"Oh! Okay! I mean, if that makes you happy!" It would make me very happy. Happier than this bagel was presently making me.

"No but I mean it. The mood swings will get worse as your first trimester goes on, you have no idea. Just try talking to yourself as often as possible, journal. Take care of yourself."

"Okay okay, I will. Thanks JJ, you're the best." With a shared smile, it was finally time to get some work done. Or just finish my bagel. Yeah, I'm just gonna finish my bagel.

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"No, mom you need to stay in the house. Yes, she's home with you, you will be fine. I saw my fiancée this morning, I don't miss her that badly in the two hours I've been outside. I'm at Target mom. Okay. Love you, bye mom."

Finally off the phone, Spencer slid his phone back into his back pocket. Diana was there for a visit, something she begged Spencer enough that she wore down his negotiating skills. So she got out of the ward for a fun few days.

And yes, Spencer did love the time he got to spend with his mom. He was more than happy to have her. But preparing for a baby, his fiancée either soul crushingly sad or horny or showing him things for their baby because in four months she'd be forcing it out of her body, and keeping your mom on her meds and your fiancée on her prenatal meds...sometimes a man needed to go to Target.

Sometimes a man needed to make breakfast, intentionally finish the milk and eggs, and suddenly have other errands that needed to be run outside.

Pushing through the aisles of Target, they all blended together. Everything just seemed crazy now. His fiancée was pregnant. She was pregnant, and their baby was coming in four months. She was nesting now, according to JJ.

When they found out she was pregnant she remained logical. She mapped out each important date, each doctors appointment, and left major shopping for a bit later. Spencer was the one buying mountains of books, crying over the minuscule things. Now though, she was crying over the little things, waking up with insane cravings (his favorite one to be woken up at 2:47 in the morning over? Buffalo sauce. Not like, buffalo wings. Buffalo sauce by itself but it needed to be hot and in a bowl and when Spencer protested she looked ready to rip him in two), and each day was filled with 'Spencer look at this, Spencer we need this, Spencer we HAVE to have this for our baby or we're shitty parents, Spencer, Spencer, Spencer.'

He was in heaven.

His wife couldn't get enough of him, literally sniffing him like he was a big ass pile of coke, his mom was over, it was almost time for their gender reveal (which Emily and Rossi somehow ended up in charge of planning but whatever), and he would be a literal daddy. Not in the sense that she called him but in the actual way.

Without even realizing it, he was in the baby section. His feet basically dragged him there. There was a little onesie, which would be the perfect size for his baby, a pair of baby booties randomly placed near by. But the couple made a promise to themselves, they wouldn't buy anything without each other unless they literally had to have it for their baby. Like the really cute onesie that Spencer found with a little 'R' on the front. 'R' for Reid. Soon they'd be Mr. and Mrs. Reid. Their baby's last name would be Reid.

His fingers ran over the soft cotton fabric of a pink onesie, that had the cutest little flowers stitched on the toes. He pictured it for a moment, a little chunky light skinned baby with curly hair and dark eyes. Brown eyes and chubby cheeks for his/her mommy and daddy to bombard with kisses.

With soft little fingers and little toes. With big eyes filled with innocence that was Spencer's job to guard, that he already knew he'd lay his life down to protect in a heart beat. A baby with a tiny heart beat that he'd be honored to hold. His baby. Their baby together that they made together.

Spencer didn't know when he started moving again, or when he weaved through the groups of people making their way around Target, but he was now on his way to the front and suddenly stopped in front of the cribs.

A large wooden crib with pretty little birds carved into the side. A mobile hung over the soft insides. There were some pillows inside and a mattress inside that looked nice and soft. On the left of it, a white crib, nothing on it but it looked nice and sturdy. And he knew they could probably find some nice designs to put all over the sides.

"First time?" A deep, scratchy voice pulled Spencer from his thoughts. It was an older man maybe 15-20 years older, with his wife standing close to him. Their cart was filled with toys and an abundance of blue. Blue onesies, blue bottles, blue pacifiers, blue toys, blue bibs, blue blankets, blue teething rings. If it was blue, it was in the cart. Clearly not their first time.

"Yeah. I mean, yes, my fiancée. She's pregnant." The smile and blush of happiness that came whenever Spencer told anyone came back. Heat filled his face with joy. Not nerves or anything just pure joy. He wished she was there with him. He wished she was with him looking at the cribs and holding his hand while they looked around. The couple chuckled at how pink he got before the wife began to speak.

"Word of advice, crib shopping without her is a good way to start a war. If he went crib shopping without me for out first I would've murdered him." People say such crazy shit when they don't know you're in law enforcement. Spencer knew she was kidding and couldn't care less but sometimes he wondered how different everyone around him would act if they knew he was FBI.

At work, when he walked onto a scene wearing that jacket with the letters big yellows letters on the back people steered just a bit more clear of him. I mean the FBI is literally the FBI. If he was a normal ass cop he'd be a bit intimidated as well.

"Don't worry, I'm sure she'd do the same thing. I'm just looking right now though. I don't want to do any part of this without her." Spencer would never be this open with strangers but some strange part of him, maybe the part that wished he had grandparents, had him telling this couple with kind eyes. And he of all people knew not to judge a book by its cover. Sometimes it was the nicest looking people who committed the most vile crimes.

"Oh, sometimes you'll have too. Of course, you would never make that choice but take it from 40 years of marriage and 38 years of parenting: sometimes you have to make the calls on your own. It doesn't seem likely now, but as a father you may have to make the best call for your child if your partner is unable to make any sort of choice." Huh.

He never thought about that. Well he should've. He's seen marriages torn apart (usually by the most stressful situation possible, your child being kidnapped or murdered or something) because of one parents choice. Usually it being glancing away for one second. But what if his kid needs something while she's out cold? Maybe she's fast asleep and his kid wants to go outside or something. God forbid it's something far more serious, Spencer would have to make a choice.

Maybe. Who knows. But it was true. Sometimes, Spencer would need to make a choice on his own. And although they promised to make any and all big choices together smaller things would require an adults attention.

The realization was too clear on his face because the man chuckled.

"I'm Clive and this is Judy, it was lovely to meet you young man." He extended a hand, and Spencer took it, returning the firm handshake.

"Spencer. It was nice to meet you too. Thank you for the advice."

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Music was one of the most emotional things in the world. It connected people, spoke to people, saved people. Right now it was destroying me. Right now, I could only hear my heart beat and the Billy Joel song that was wearing me down. The song had me in tears.

I was sitting at our bay window, Diana was watching Judge Judy and sitting calmly after she took her medication this morning with her breakfast. I had a blanket thrown over my legs, a pillow behind my back and my headphones strapped over my ears. She was softly breathing, clutching a pillow to her chest and fidgeting with the soft fringes around the edges of the pillow. From here, she looked a bit like Spencer, eyes focused on the screen with her head tilted slightly to the side. How much would our baby look my me? Or Spencer? Or even Diana, maybe his father or my parents? Anything was possible.

The soft rain pitter-pattered on the window and it just added to my mood. Was I sad? Was I happy? Bitter-sweet was the right word. How would I feel as our child grew before my very eyes? As I watched my baby get bigger with each passing moment? Before eventually they stood on their own two feet and walked completely on their own? I whimpered, an ache in my chest. Each day would be a beautiful reminder of what was to come.

I tried my hardest to keep it down, lest I bother my baby's grandmother. Oh god, grandmother. Diana would be a grandmother. The dam broke all over again and I buried my face in the sheet that was thrown over my knees

"A word of advice," I perked up when Diana's voice added to the mix of music, muffled sobbing and Judge Judy screaming at some random lady.

"When I was pregnant with Spencer, I was all over the place. I kept it to myself, I felt alone. I felt that because I was off my medication my feelings weren't normal but they completely are. Keeping my feelings inside, that turned into stress. Then resentment. For myself, for my husband and sadly for Spencer. Try talking to Spencer about your issues instead of letting them fester."

She read me like a book, what the fuck. Okay I hadn't been the most inconspicuous with my crying BUT dang I wasn't expecting that. I was actually planning to go into the bathroom because I didn't intend to disturb her. Something about being and FBI agent meant emotional constipation. Therefore, I didn't want to talk about my feelings on a deep level, and I did not want a whole thing to be made of it.

But Diana didn't look at me. She didn't turn around and look at me with pity or understanding, she didn't stand up and attempt to hug me, she didn't try questioning me on what was wrong. She just said it. She said it, blue eyes trained onto the TV as a commercial for mesothelioma played. I did my best to wipe tears from my eyes, and from down my face. Perhaps it was time to do away with the music. But in a way, I didn't want this feeling to end. I wanted to feeling to stay. The bitter-sweet feeling washing over me like a blanket. My heart hurt in the best possible way.

"Thank you Diana. I'm not upset, just...feeling things." With a chuckle as I wiped my eyes rubbed my no doubt puffy eyes.

"Well. As long as you're feeling something." Her eyes glued to the TV screen as Judge Judy came back on.

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"Hi everyone, thank you for coming. I just wanted to say thank you for coming to our lovely couples baby shower, Lord knows we all expected to be here sooner." Derek chuckled, raising his ginger ale to us, as we sat perched on the couch next to Rossi's pool. Chuckles and laughter went up all around us, Spencer laughed into his Pepsi. His smile lines crinkled under his sun glasses. God, he just looked kissed by the Sun. God (if there was one) took his time. He took his sweet ass time sculpting each little crease, crinkle, each hair on his head. And it truly paid off.

"Now, if the parents will just come to the front, we'll have them figure out the gender." Finally, Jesus. I loved Derek. I do! But my God could the man talk. And talk. Then talk some more. Maybe it was just the heat bothering me.

It was a sunny day, not too hot though just hot enough to annoy me. People in pink and blue bathing wandered around, Hotch was lounging in his blue swim trunks, Jack standing next to his dad and asking him a stream of questions (he was in that stage) had a the funniest amount of hot pink I've ever seen a child have on.

The wind gave a gentle breeze that offered slight reprieve from the heat as JJ and Will sipped virgin pina coladas from fun sippy cups in their matching pink swim suits. Henry was left with the rest of the kids in the play area with the baby sitters (the same company I planned on using for our wedding) and he arrived in a precious little pink ensemble with pink little sunglasses and sun hat.

And Penny, who could ever forget the darling Penny, who was coming back from the bathroom, with pink hair dye and basically everything else on her body. Even pink eyeshadow. I felt put to shame, thinking my all pink get up was a lot. Spencer had on a blue buttoned up shirt only for the sake of possible opposing sides.

Emily and Rossi (the only people who knew the gender) both wore black swim suits as they sat at the bar. Both giving us no clues at all to the babies gender. Honestly, this entire thing was a bit too big for a regular baby shower.

But we weren't setting any forest fires. Just spending a lot of money on our first child. And with the money we make, of course our children would be pampered each step of the way. No expense needed to be spared. And Spencer, easy going as it is, allowed me to handle the planning for our baby shower (as much as Emily and David allowed me) along with planning our wedding.

The bar, custom drink menu I created, the baby sitting company for all of our friends to bring their kids (honestly this is a small practice run for our wedding), catering company, the pool toys, the kiddie pool Rossi let us set up, and the goodie bags. And Spencer showed up, looking perfect as usual.

Rising to his feet, Spencer gave me a hand and pulled me up from my seat. We waddled (I waddled, Spencer pushed through the small crowd) through the waves of folks who came to see us today (or just came for free food) and eventually climbed to the front.

Looking out at the sea of faces, I almost cried again. I felt Emily place a palm on my shoulder and I wiped my tears before they could fall down. She handed Spencer and I both ice picks, Rossi directing the videographer and the photographer (a personal gift from him). Two black balloons, held in place by David and Emily.

Two black balloons that held out entire future. Two black balloons meant more to me than I thought was humanly possible. My heart beat pounded, as Derek said something about a countdown. The crowd began counting down from ten, as if a countdown was enough for the most important moment of my life, my hands getting sweatier by the moment. Spencer gripped my hand and I glanced over.

Ten...

And I realized then Spencer was terrified as I was.

Nine...

But we were terrified together.

Eight...

And we'd feel everything together from the moment this baby came

Seven...

No matter what happened, no matter how many faces we saw before us right now, it was Spencer and me, and our baby. And maybe one day, more of our babies.

Six...

My soon to be husband, and my child. My eyes welled up again, and Derek made a joke about mom crying early. I'd have to curse him later for being so funny. Our little family was no longer just him, I, Diana and my parents, who were in matching blue outfits watching in anticipation.

Five...

My tears and heart beat combined sounded like the ocean thrumming in my ears and Spencer chuckled nervously and stared down at his flip flops.

Four...

Almost...

Three...

Almost right at my future, the rest of my life.

Two...

Jesus just get to one!

One...

I nearly froze from fear but pushed the ice pick into the balloon, and a sprinkle of pink fell over me. I screamed, my heart soared and I jumped onto Spencer with joy and people clapped an cheered. My mom screamed, literally sobbing as she fell to her knees.

A girl. A girl, to love, and care for, and teach. I wouldn't have cared, either way I wasn't worried but I had always wanted a baby. To have a girl. To love a daughter was truly a gift.

Spencer stood stalk still, like he was a statue and he a terrified grin crossed his face. I saw Rossi nod as Derek chuckled. There was a man holding up a sign, right in front of us with a giant '2' written in pink. Right in front of Spencer, no matter he saw it first.

"Uh oh, Dad's looking a bit- oh my god, oh my god!" And Spencer was flying backwards into Hotch and Rossi.

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"Oh, you can see him start to look a bit pale right there." Penelope narrated to his mother, who they were showing the video too on face time. Spencer was now sitting up right on the living room couch and sipping a ginger ale with trembling hands.

Spencer Reid was having twins. Could his life get any better? What did he ever do to deserve this much happiness? His head hurt just a bit, mainly from when he slipped off the couch after being set down and cracking his head on the floor but this was really happening. It was real.

Suddenly he felt a familiar presence. There she was holding two of his children inside of her and staring up at him with the most gorgeous eyes. She was gorgeous, even more so with the knowledge he had now, and he didn't even know it was possible.

He couldn't help himself, the tears filling his eyes as his mother and Penelope suddenly ended the call and she excused herself gracefully (the internet in the home was shitty, so she'd probably be calling back within the hour) and now he felt tears rushing down his face. She smiled at him, so softly that he couldn't even speak.

"I love you." She whispered as she drew her face closer to his and pressed a kiss onto his forehead.

"I love you too. And I love them." The words whispered, just for the two of them.

Well. The four of them.

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The end! I cried a lot during this for no reason lol. I literally bawled my eyes out, I'm suffering from massive baby fever. Anyways, I hope you all like this one <3

[mad-maximoff]

We Met Again

Part 2 of When We Met since y’all asked so damn much! I just hope this one doesn't get censored too😅

Summary: You were on a 6-month-long mission with Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes only to come back to the compound and face Wanda.

Warnings: G!P reader, angst, making out, unprotected sex, ejaculation , soft sex turned rough, hair-pulling, breaking the bed (literally😂),

Word Count: 3,702

Prt 1 Here

"Welcome back Y/n, how was your little adventure with the boys?" Kate Bishop stood behind the bar making herself a pink alcoholic slush of some sort. You were covered in dirt and soot from head to toe. You just got off a mission with Sam and Bucky. You were in Egypt going about looking for a highly classified terrorist ring. Thankfully you got to them before they started their reign. 

"Adventure my ass. I slept on the dirt while the boys slept in cozy beds like princesses. I tell you what I need is a shower and to take a well-deserved dirt nap in a real bed." You threw your weapons on the table halting at a chair and flinging off your boots. "I'll clean this shit up later Kat, I've been waiting for this." You turned to see Kate pouring herself a tall misshapen glass full of pink slush. "Sure thing Y/n, you and I are the only ones here I think. You want the rest?" She licked the side of her glass where she spilt. "Why not, might help me crash harder." You reached around Kate grabbing the whole blender. There was more than a mouthful left. You thought maybe it was strawberry daiquiri, so you thought nothing of it and chugged it. The first sip made you gag.

"Jesus Christ Bishop! Paloma? Really? What are you 40? You've been around Potts too long. Good lord.." You hated tequila, especially grapefruit. You polished it off not backing down leaving it on a table in the middle of the hallway. You knew there were empty beds not touched by any of the other Avengers. Basically new. It was funny really. Everything to you looked new but it was just the same as the last time you were down this hallway. Maybe it looked new because the last time you were here you were drunk with your pants around your ankles. Come to think of it. That table was new. You pivoted around noticing the table on further inspection. You saw a crack along the wall. Oh yeah, you remember. That was the spot. The spot where you and Wanda...

Yeah...Wanda...

You remember where her room was. You remember you crashed there after you both finished your fun in the hall. Curiosity killed the cat. You noticed the door was slightly cracked allowing light to shine through. But it was almost midnight, it wasn't natural light. It was from a light. Is she there? Did she forget to turn off the lights? Maybe. You pondered. Kate did say after all you two were the two here so it was bound she forgot. It's a common mistake. 

You tip-toed over to her room letting your fingers creep through the part between the door and the wall slightly allowing the length of your fingers to pry the door a bit more. Your strength got the hold of you as it flung open. Wanda was sitting at the edge of her bed in her room, with her leg raised to lean her elbow on her knee, underneath her chin. 

"Kate honey I told you for the third time today. We can drink and watch Sex and The City tomorrow. I don't feel up to it." She huffed watching the news. Her brows were furrowed, her eyes darting back and forth watching the live footage of whatever catastrophe happened. "So you're the one drinking Palomas huh?" You leaned in the door frame crossing your arms. You had to laugh. You never thought she was a cocktail girl. Though..you never thought she was the kind to give blowjobs either but you were surprised by both.

"Oh..it's you...no I don't drink that shit. She found Tony's recipe book for Pepper and his date nights and she's drinking like a fish...When did you come back to the States?" She was genuinely surprised to see me. Her leg fell from where it was prompted. Wanda stood up walking the length of her bedframe around to meet you.

You were shocked also. Maybe she wasn't showing yet? You swore you thought you'd come home and find her pregnant but unless she's super athletic or has it hidden she doesn't look like she's expecting.

"Ah 30 minutes ago. Um..stupid question.." You scratched your head looking down at Wanda then back up at her eyes. She laughed standing in front of you. Her hand reached to your cheek whipping the loose dirt from your undereye. 

"Haha no! Unfortunately, I'm not pregnant. I don't know how. I always thought that first tries always work. I even helped you out a bit." 

"Unfortunately? You wanted me to get you pregnant? Are you insane? You don't even know me and you want kids from me! I'm too young to have a family! Even with my powers...let alone, what gives you the right to choose for me!" You broke her hand away backing away. You had to leave or else there'll be bigger cracks in the wall. 

"Y/n please, I never meant to hurt you. I just got confused that's all. You were so nice to me and after I lost Vis 2 times and lost my boys I just felt you comforted me. That's all." Wanda reached again grasping your bicep. You pulled away again this time hitting the wood casing around the frame with your elbow. The wood casing flew off behind you hitting the hallway floor.

"No! Don’t you dare touch me! All you cared about was yourself! Just because someone showed you comfort doesn't mean you let them cum inside you, Wanda! That's really fucked up! I'm sorry you lost your family but you can't just use me to play house!" You growled noticing your rage was becoming the better of you. Wanda through your eyes was becoming tiny. Her body language was making her small. Curling her fingers into the sleeves of her black cardigan, crossing her arm over to her elbow. She looked down at her bare feet letting out a shakey breath.

"I'm really sorry Y/n...I don't know what I was thinking. I've been so used to having people around me. That it feels weird to be by myself." Wanda's head was bowed letting her newly brown hair almost cover her head. A tiny tear ran down her blushed cheek wiping it away quickly.

All you saw was red. Not by Wanda's magic. But for some reason, you were enraged. How could you be this angry over something you fully did with Wanda 6 months ago? Maybe you do have a tiny bit of an anger problem. Little? In this case, that's an understatement. 

You huffed feeling the hot pressure on your chest cool down to your stomach. You think seeing Wanda so visibly upset may have broken your cross attitude. 

"Get used to it, Wanda." You had to storm off. If the conversation got any more heated; one of you was going to end up in a wall. And it was most likely going to be you. Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe if I get some sleep and a good shower I can speak to her more clearly. 

You thought gliding to one of the newly furnished rooms. 

Each room had its own bathroom. Tony is a playboy so obviously the bathroom was soundproof. The entire compound was all technology so a press of a button and the bedroom could be soundproof. You didn't need that tonight. You wished there was a switch to soundproof your head. 

How could I snap like that? I haven't done that in years! What the hell was I thinking to begin with?! You felt like you could stand under the hot water for hours. It took two layers of body wash just to scrub away the dirt from your body and finally feel human. Maybe you were scrubbing off your anger with it in a sense. You had your little outbursts but this one almost made you black out. Your lofa scraped at your skin furiously, leaving little imprints everywhere. Your back flexed in the mirror examining your clean body. Your hips were women but your shoulders and torso were the shape of a man. You had average-sized breasts. They were nothing special, they were nice to look at but nothing that could turn any heads. Perhaps you could say they were bigger than average but you never noticed.

You got out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around your waistbone, as you inhaled walking to the foot of your bed your v-line showed every breath you took. You thought if someone was to walk in it would be less surprising seeing you topless instead of bottomless. 

"Fuck...you got buff little one.." You gasped in fright hearing Wanda's quiet voice coming from the chair hidden next to the wall. Wanda's makeup was smeared all over her under her eyes. She was sniffling back what little tears she produced. She was crying heavily, using the sleeves of her cardigan. "What the fuck do you want now? Can't you see I'm busy? I'm not giving in to your mind games." You turned to face your back to her loosening the towel from your waist to dry your legs. You reached around putting on a pair of boxer briefs. You heard a creek come from the corner of your room knowing Wanda got up. Her bare feet were quiet on the hardwood but not quiet enough for you to hear. 

"No mind games Y/n. I-I...wanted to apologize...you were right. I need to start learning how to be on my own. I deserve to be alone. I shouldn't have let you do those things to me." She held back a cry making her eyes gloss over. 

"Hey, I didn't mean it like that. I was actually going to apologize to you. I don't know what came over me. I lost my temper too quickly. I haven't done that in years. I shouldn't have taken it out on you." Your hands lifted Wanda's chin to look at you, letting all of her hair fall back behind her shoulders. She looked like a baby raccoon. It was cute but you felt awful that she was crying because of you. "I'm so sorry Wanda." Wanda's hands placed around your hips, sliding herself closer to your body. You pulled her in deeper holding her close. Her head rested on your shoulder letting her finish her cries. Your hands caressed her skull, intertwining with her locs. 

"It's okay..please, please stop crying. You're making me feel worse." You sat her down on the foot of the bed still massaging Wanda's head. She buried her face in your chest noticing her sobs being muffled into silent sniffles. One of your hands dropped placing it on her chest, directly on top of her heart. Her beats were rapid on the first touch, but once you dragged your fingertips along her skin she settled. Your other hand finally dropped rubbing her spine. She was frail in comparison to your body. Every muscle you flexed made it seem more apparent. 

"Thank you," she sniffled, using her sleeve to wipe away her stained makeup. "Thank you very much Y/n. I feel like sometimes I can just go off the handle." Wanda wiped another tear with her sleeve again, the tears glossed in her eyes and made her pupils sparkle as she looked so passionately into your eyes. 

"It's fine Wanda. We all go off the handle some days. I did it on you earlier. We just need to relax a little. The both of us." 

                             ╳°»｡ ∾･⁙･ ღ ➵ ⁘ ➵ ღ ･⁙･∾ ｡«°╳

You and Wanda laid down together in silence. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence however, it felt somehow to you a healing silence. You two didn’t need to talk, that’s what got you two into shit before. Just cuddling together. Wanda laid her head on your bare chest. You threw on a random stupid movie on TV, it was one of those goofy movies that two dudes probably smoked a joint and started filming. You didn’t like it; Wanda found it comical. She’d laugh at the slightest action or joke. 15 minutes later however she was silent. You peered down checking up on her. Her eyes fluttered, she was falling asleep. You twitched which made her jump. 

“Jesus…what’s happened?” She whispered. I knew she fell asleep for a moment. You could hear it in her tone. Groggy and low. 

“Nothing sorry. My leg just spasmed. It’s okay, you can go back to sleep.” Your hand ran down Wanda's thigh. Her skin was soft just like you remembered. 

“Shut up, I wasn't sleeping.” She giggled rolling her head the other way. 

“Oh I'm sorry, I just saw the stucco on the ceiling coming apart so I thought you were snoring.” You joked.

“Fuck off!” She laughed sitting up on your lap. “I do not snore!” Her hands grasped a fist full of your bare breasts in either hand. It felt good to be handled again. As soon as her hands touched you that way, you instantly felt you were getting hard. It wasn't an embarrassment any longer. You had another one-night encounter after Wanda that made feel 10x better about your appearance. 

“No, that's just loudly humming in your sleep isn't it?” Your hands tightened around her hips slowly moving them back and forth. Wanda sucked air through her teeth letting a little gasp. "Ohh-stop!" She laughed biting her lower lip. "You want something else don't you detka?" Her dress grazed the front of your boxers, just to tease you. 

"Perhaps. This time, it's on my terms. This time." Your hands pushed down on Wanda's thighs rubbing your forming bludge on the fabric of her panties. Her brows raised, turning her cheeks into a rose colour. "Really? Would you still want to? Even after everything I did?..."  

“Of course.” You freed your hands from her thighs, swishing a strand of her hair away from her face looking into her emerald eyes. She giggled again looking down at your chest. “You’re tits are huge Y/n.” Wanda’s hands clutched my full chest. "I don't think I saw them last time." She squeezed each handful. You whinced with her nails digging into your skin. 

"Ha! Well, I hope you remember something else's size." You joked lightly tugging at your boxers. “Hmm..I think I definitely need a refresher.” Wanda tugged the hem of her dress; pulling it over her head as her arms whisked it to the floor. Wanda’s hands jerked at the elastic band around your hips. Your fairly large erection greeted both of you with a fair shock as it bounced its way to freedom. “Oh yes, I remember now.” Her tongue folded against the tops of her teeth. Your hands held a firm grip on either side of Wanda’s panties ripping them off. “Seems you don’t need this huh?” She giggled letting out a small whimper. “Fuck-…can we stop all this talking Y/n? I really need you.” Your fingers trailed along her mound going further in her slit. Her inner core was silk. Your finger slipped inside effortlessly. Her little sounds became more low. “Oh…g-god.” Her head dropped down making her lips lay on mine. "Stop fucking teasing me..." She groaned as her teeth bit the bottom of my lip. "Okay, you asked for it." You flipped Wanda onto her back. The bed's feet raised as the bed made a thump. "Did you want condoms?" 

"N-no. No, Wanda, I can pull out." You bent down locking your lips with hers again. "Haha..sure, sure you can Y/n." Wanda's eyes glowed red again briefly. "Fuck no more games. Just let me fuck you by myself." Your fingers slid between Wanda's folds before slipping your cock inside. She gasped curling her fingers into the sheets. Your hands planted on the mattress on either side of Wanda's head. She uncurled her fingers from the bedsheets, moving them around your wrists. Her breaths were choppy trying to get ahold. You thought she looked so beautiful underneath you, the way her skin naturally glowed, her pearly white smile chewing her bottom lip, the way she looked at you. Not in a loving way just yet, in an adoring way? A needing way. 

"Go on. Keep making those pretty sounds for me, sweetheart." Your hips dove in feeling her walls coating you effortlessly. Wanda’s whines grew deafening, her eyes did not stop turning shades of red. 

“Oh shit…y/n…uh-…” Wanda's head rolled back on the mattress. Dropping her jaw open. You began to thrust with a heavy pace. Becoming quick with every moan that escaped Wanda’s lips. The bed frame formed a squeaking noise with each pump into the brunette. Wanda’s leg had a hard time trying to stay afloat around your hips, slipping every movement you two shared. You stopped pulling out briefly. 

“What-..Y/n? Why did stop?! Continuă…” Wanda cried out allowing her hands to fall scratching your biceps. “I will, don't worry. Go flip on your stomach, on your knees and bend over.” Wanda sighed a sly smile flipping onto her knees, arching her back letting her chest lay on the mattress. She glanced over her shoulder with her hair covering her face. Your hand traced her temple softly, leading your fingers into the brunette's long strands. Grasping a fistful of Wanda’s hair. You peered down watching your cock twitch in anticipation with Wanda’s ass sway in the same feeling of suspense. Your other hand grasped Wanda’s thigh sliding your shaft back into her slick folds. 

“Oh…fuck-” Wanda sucked air through her teeth tilting her head down with your hand still tight on her hair. You did begin to thrust slowly as you once did, you began to ram yourself deeply inside the witch as though you were pushing through air. Wanda's hand gave out mid-pump landing on her chest. Her hands gripped the bedsheets as she tried to move her head to a more comfortable spot. "Fuck...you have such a nice ass." You twisted Wanda's hair around your knuckles applying a forceful tug. Her head raised leaving a spot of drool on the sheets. "Uh-huh!" Wanda's head cocked further to watch you. Your hand jerked the fistful of Wanda's hair pulling her hair as hard as you could muster without ripping all of her hair out entirely. Her body lifted off the mattress onto her knees. Her back pressed on your chest laying her head on your shoulder. "Oh god!...Shit!" Your wrist could not take it anymore, you let go of Wanda's hair allowing it to fall behind your shoulder. Your hand relaxed on Wanda's thigh attaching every finger around the softest part of her leg. Wanda's arm flung around your throat holding herself up. "Shit...I'm going to cum..." Wanda's moans were silent as she took a small breath. "Huh? Good baby...me too." You sighed out feeling yourself climbing higher and higher up to your point of no return. "Do it Y/n." Wanda used her knees bouncing her body against you. 

"Do what Wand?" You groaned in her ear smelling her sweet perfume sweat off onto you. "Cum in me...please..." Her cheek heated on yours as you felt her jaw lock open not letting another sound out. "Y-you sure? I don't know." You did not want to take that chance again, you had some rendezvous with a certain green bulky woman in Egypt, knowing you mastered your craft of pulling out. If you did not get her pregnant 6 months ago, hell, you couldn't do it again right? 

"F-fine...you want me to cum inside you huh?" You huffed tightening your grip on Wanda's thighs, the wooden bedframe continued to rattle. The frame began to bell out with your knees ready to cave. "Yes! Yes!" 

"Yes, what?" 

"Cum inside me Y/n! Fill me!" Wanda's voice shrieked out letting go of a low-toned moan. "Oh god! I'm cumming!" Wanda grasped firmly on your neck vibrating her entire body. Her eyes glow red tracing red mists around both of your bodies. "Fuck!" The pressure within you exploded, you could not think if it was you that came or if Wanda had some help to speed it up. You felt your cock throb spewing out your cum in the witch. She tried her best to make her body stay still, her thighs would not stop fidgeting. You bucked your knees forward to have Wanda fall on her stomach as you fell with her. The bedframe finally gave way as the mattress hit the floor. You both hit a thump, Wanda chuckled under your body softly as she took a quick breath. "Well, shit. How do you expect to explain this to Tony?" 

"We'll blame Kate," You sighed wiping a bead of sweat from your brow. "She got too drunk and we found her jumping on the bed. Agreed?" 

"Agreed detka. Let's get out of here. We can go to my room." You arose to see the bedposts still standing but the wood beams holding the bed just fell. "Well, this was a great welcome back." You stretched out your arms above your head hearing the cracks of your shoulder blades. "I'd say so." You stood up from the mattress whisking your boxers off the floor. 

"Y/n? You don't need those." Wanda sat up on her knees running her hands through her hair. You bent over as you picked Wanda up by her thighs and wrapped them around your waist. "Haha! I sure do. I don't want to scare Kate if we run into her." You took hefty strides over to the bedroom door, making your way down the hall to Wanda's room. Wanda draped her hands around your neck giving a sly little smile as she looked over her shoulder. Her wrist flicked a red mist, you witnessed the red mist run down the staircase doing nothing after it left the stairs. "There. She won't bug us. I put her to sleep for the night. Now, we can have more fun." 

"Good. Let's hope I don't break your bed this time." 

"Well, don't promise that. I'd love you to ruin me." Her finger traced along your jaw down your throat. "Ask, and you shall receive." 

[vxsellie]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ PIERCINGLY PERFECT !

pairing : tattoo artist!ellie williams x fem!reader

synopsis : pretty self explanatory

a/n : this might be shitty i'm so tired, but i started thinking about ellie as a tattoo artist and i can't get it out of my head

wc : 3.5k

for the past few years, you've been absolutely dying to get a tramp stamp done.

not only did you pick out an intricate design with meaning, but you also are very aware of how sexy they look. you've wanted to get one for so long that it was bound to happen at some point. apparently, that point is today — a random friday night at about one in the morning. frankly, you're lucky the shop was even open so late.

a bell dings loudly as you push the door open. you made sure to wear low rise pants and a cropped shirt so you wouldn't be put in the awkward situation of having to strip in front of the artist.

"hello there, ma'am." the man behind the desk welcomes you.

he doesn't even look up at you as he continues to fumble with something behind the register. the heels of your shoes click against the tiled floor as you approach him. he has ink all up his arms and neck, coating his skin in art. you love it.

"do you guys take walk-ins?" you ask as you allow your eyes to scan the interior of the building. the walls are a deep red, the floors checkered tile. the countertop is black, covered in stickers.

"mm," he hums, still not looking up, "sometimes. but usually not this late."

you frown, "do you think you could make an exception?"

"i dunno." he shrugs.

you groan, frustrated. you wanted this tattoo done today, otherwise you'd have to wait another few weeks until your schedule is empty enough to fit in an appointment.

you continue to examine the shop, your eyes tracing all the posters and vinyls tacked into the walls. to the left of the counter, there's a doorway. beads hang from the top of it, draping down to sway across the hard floor. nosily, you peek inside. you can make out the outline of a few laid back chairs and shelves on wheels.

the man finally looks up, noticing your staring. he rolls his eyes. "the reason we don't take people so late is because none of the artists want to give you a fuckin' tattoo past midnight."

"then why are you even open?" you point out, turning away from the door to scowl at him.

"listen." he snaps. "you're probably just some drunk ass collage student wanting to get your boyfriend's name tattooed across your tits. now get back to your dorm before curfew or i'll kick you out."

"i date women, asshole." you tell him, leaning forward on the sticky counter. "i'm not drunk and i'm not in college either, so stop making these whack ass assumptions about me and give me my fucking tattoo."

he narrows his eyes at you, his brow furrowed in rising anger. when he opens his mouth, you expect more argument. you expect him to either curse you out or kick you out, nothing less. but instead, he turns his head slightly, never taking his eyes off you, and calls a name over his shoulder.

"williams!" he calls out, his voice carrying through the building and past the thinly beaded doorway.

"what?" a female voice responds from the back. her tone is laced with annoyance, as though the man has already managed to piss her off.

"you willin' to take another?" he asks.

you hear her groan before the sound of her footsteps can be heard marching toward the front of the shop. thick boots thud against the floor, growing nearer. you hold your ground, not sure if this is some sort of trick to get you out of here. then you hear the beads rustle and look over to see a woman emerge from the doorway.

she's wearing baggy brow cargo pants, a thin black tank top, and chunky black combat boots. her hair is brown, cut short above her shoulders as it's held back in a tiny half-up bun. her pale green eyes bore into you as she crosses her arms over her chest, analyzing you.

you feel queasy. you can tell she's trying to decide whether or not you're worth it. you try your hardest to appear worthy of her time, but you're unsure of what that looks like.

"what do you want?" she asks you, her eyes trailing up and down your body as she rounds the counter. "something small and easy, or a big sleeve?"

"neither." you respond. "i wanted a tramp stamp."

she raises a brow at this, her interest seeming to instantly pique. she continues to stare, taking in your appearance. after a long moment, she gazes over at her coworker and shrugs. "yeah. i could take one more."

"make it quick." he scoffs, typing something into the computer. "not only has she been a complete bitch, but i wanna close asap. my dog needs fed."

"don't rush me." the woman snaps at him, rolling her eyes at his audacity.

she goes back around the counter and pushes past the beads and enters the back room. you trail after her, making sure to shoot a harsh glare at the man as you pass him. he seethes with anger at this, knowing he can't do anything.

the back room is exactly as you'd envisioned. the floors and walls are the same, made up of checkered tile and deep red paint. the walls are coated more heavily in decor, though. art and band posters and funky lights nailed into it. there are four of those laid back chairs, small swivel seats beside each one for the artist. and behind it, the supplies are kept on little shelves.

the woman crosses the room, walking over to the station in the back corner. she sits in the swivel seat, rolling it over to the shelves as she dismissively gestures for you to sit on the large black chair.

"i'm ellie willams and i'll be your artist for the next hour or so." she says, the words professional despite her tone sounding uninterested. she grabs a pair of clear gloves, slipping them down over each of her hands.

"uh-huh," you mutter as you sit on the edge of the chair, unable to pay much attention to what she's doing as your eyes roam the decor of the shop. it's awesome.

"which style do you want?" she asks, holding up a few reference photos of her art for you to get an eye of what you'll be given. the work is stunning, her penmanship flawless. she shades beautifully and her details are painfully intricate. you can't help but stare in awe for a moment, allowing you gaze to linger.

you point to one of the pages, "this one. i like the detail."

"perfect," she grins, setting the other photos aside, "that's my personal favorite as well."

she prepares the supplies, gathering all the correct necessities. as she does, the two of you continue to speak. she asks for more detail on what type of tattoo you're looking to get and you explain, showing her pictures and sharing your ideas on what you'd envisioned. she nods along encouragingly, her hardened facade slowly fading as you get to know her better.

as it turns out, she was the one who helped decorate the interior of the shop. she was the first person employed by the old man who owns the place, joel. after being hired a year or two back, he allowed her to do the majority of decor. the two of them painted the walls and laid the tiles themselves. ellie speaks so fondly of him that you’d assumed they were related, though as soon as you addressed she tensed up and bluntly corrected you. sensitive subject, apparently.

she spent her time drawing out your design while you ask her random questions about the shop as well as ellie herself. her hands work diligently as you lean back against the cushion. you tip your head back, gazing up at the ceiling as you blurt out a string of conversation.

you've learned a fair amount of things about ellie — such as boring things like her favorite color, food, movie, etc. and also more creative things like her favorite decoration in the shop or what her favorite tattoo she'd ever done is.

you find ellie to be a rather interesting individual. she wears a hard mask fabricated by her facade of indifference. though, with each question, her mask begins to crack. she huffs out chuckles and quirks small grins before she quickly cover it with a hardened expression. each time she slips up, you fight back a smile.

after about twenty minutes spent of talking and perfecting the sketch, you finally agree on a design. it's absolutely stunning, the floral prints and the swirls all perfectly constructed with careful attention. ellie seems pleased with her work, as well.

"ready?" she asks, spinning around in her chair to face you. she wears two clear gloves on each wrist, tattoo gun in her right hand.

you trace your gaze down her body, taking in her appearance shamelessly. her black ribbed tank is tight on her torso, fitting her muscles perfectly. at her hips, a pair of dark baggy jeans crowd her legs. you find yourself nodding without even fully processing her question, far more focused on the way ellie looks.

she raises a brow at this, knowingly. "okay then."

she scoots her chair forward, small wheels rolling against the floor. she flips the switch and the gun whirs to power. you're instantly snapped back to reality, your eyes darting up to her face. "wait, wait, wait."

"had a feeling you'd say that," she tuts, turning the gun back off. "having second thoughts?"

"of course not." you scoff. "i'm definitely getting this tattoo. i just wanted to know how you'd like me to sit."

she raises a brow, amused. "just—" she pauses, thinking. "okay, i have an idea. turn around and, like, straddle the back of the seat. i'll try to get the best angle to do this."

you do as you're asked, moving to straddle the seat, sitting backward. you arch your spine to give her a better angle of your lower back. you hear shuffling as she tries to figure out the best way to do this. you remain in the same position, patiently waiting as she puzzles this out.

you cross your arms over the back of the chair, leaning your chin on them. "what? have you never done a tramp stamp?" you call over your shoulder with a light chuckle.

"not technically." she responds, honestly.

you tense up. "wait, what? what do you mean not technically?"

"i've tattooed someones entire back before — which includes the lower back. but not only that area. so," she says, "not technically."

you let this information sit as ellie continues to shuffle around behind you. you can feel as she gets into a comfortable position, her sitting in her own swivel chair, pulling it up behind your seat.

her hands are cold as they brush the skin of your back, pushing your waistband lower on your hips. your breath hitches at the action and you tell yourself it's because of how cold her fingers are.

"ready?" she questions with a light chuckle.

you nod, "yep."

the sound of the tattoo gun whirring into motion fills the room. you feel one of ellie's hands hold you by the hip, the other bringing the needles down to your skin. the stinging sensation causes you to tense a bit, but you quickly get over the initial shock.

it's indescribably painful, but you've gotten tattoos before. it can't be that bad. can it?

"you good?" ellie asks from behind you.

"yeah." you respond, your voice pitched higher than you'd meant it to be. you clear your throat. "yeah, i'm good. didn't expect it to hurt so bad, that's all."

she removes the gun from your skin, it continuing to whir in her hand. "we can stop."

"no." you say instantly. "we already started and i really want this tattoo. we are not stopping. just— distract me. talk about something random so my mind can focus on something else."

"okay." she agrees, leaning back down and continuing with her work. you wince, expression contorting. "if it makes you feel any better, i almost passed out when i got my first tattoo. i was sixteen so i wasn't exactly prepared. i hadn't eaten anything beforehand and just showed up, begging for someone to give me a sleeve."

you huff out a laugh at this, struggling to imagine ellie battling with pain. "what'd you get?"

she shifts, holding her right arm out for you to see, halting her tattooing for a moment as she allows you to gaze at the ink. it's a long piece of fern twisting to her forearm, a moth positioned at the top of the plant.

"there's not much sentimentality to it, just thought it looked cool." she admits, retreating her arm back to where it'd been as she continues.

"that's a big size for your first tattoo." you point out. "you never regretted it?"

"nah, not really." she says. "i like it."

you hum, mind wandering as she continues to tattoo your lower back. her left hand remains on your hip as her right one works. your eyes flick around the wall in front of you, taking in the posters and shelving that litters the wall in front of ellie's station. one thing in particular catches your eye.

on the top shelf, a framed photo sits atop the wooden surface. you squint to try and make out what it depicts. your eyes widen when you recognize one of the two people on the picture. ellie and some older man stand side-by-side, a huge grin on her face. she looks younger, but she has her tattoo so you know she's older than sixteen. it was likely a year or two ago, if you were to guess.

you nod your head in its direction, "who's that?"

elie pauses, looking toward the content. "joel."

"your boss?"

"my friend." she corrects, voice coming out a bit harsh but less so than it had before when he came up in conversation.

you want to push for more information, but you know better than to tempt the person tattooing you, so you drop it. instead, you allow your gaze to trail around to search for something else of interest to you. band posters, vinyls, license plates, and maroon paint cover the wall. you quickly grow bored of the decor, turning your mind elsewhere.

"why'd you decide to be a tattooist?" you ask, filling the air with random questions.

"mm," she hums, "when i was younger, i wanted to be an artist. but i was told that it was impossible to make a living off something like that, so i began searching for other lines of work that could incorporate my love for art. and somehow, i landed on this."

you knit your brow, "that's horrible. you could totally make a living off your art. you're really good, y'know."

"thanks, but i don't know how much i believe that." she says with an airy laugh.

"no i mean it." you insist. "your work is super fucking good. plus, your passion for art only adds to how meaningful it is."

she sighs, "yeah but still. i might be good, but that doesn't mean anyone would actually buy my work."

"i would." you tell her.

ellie's hands pause, pulling away for a moment. silence fills the air, thick and heavy in its significance. the lack of response weighs on you, making you wonder if you'd said something wrong. you open your mouth, ready to apologize and take back whatever you'd said that was so wrong. but ellie beats you to it, speaking before you get the chance.

"thank you." she mutters. "that means a lot, actually."

you're shocked by her soft tone so you turn your head to look at her over your shoulder. she's blinking, expression contorted into one of gentility that almost looks foreign on her features. she shakes her head quickly and returns to doing your tattoo, only needing to add a few final touches before it's done.

knowing how close you are to the work being finished, you decide not to ask any more of your pestering questions. you'd been told a lot by various people in your life how obnoxious you can be when trying to befriend or get to know someone. so you stay silent, hating the idea of ellie finding you annoying.

her hands are gentle despite the painful tool in her hands. even if she hadn't told you about her love for art, you're sure you would have figured it out anyway. she treats her work like every piece is the most important one, benevolent in her act of raising it into its full potential. nigh like a child. she's leaned forward, her face close to your lower back as she focuses on the smaller details. your skin crawls with the feel of her warm breath caressing it. goosebumps trail up your spine.

"are you cold?" she asks, likely just having noticed your goosebumps.

"hm? oh, uh, no." you stammer out, instantly embarrassed to have been put on the spot while knowing ellie's mere proximity is the cause. you decide to blurt out an excuse, a lie. "just tickles."

she chuckles, "didn't take you to be the ticklish type."

"really?" you ask, interest now piqued. "what'd you take me as?"

"well judging by how you stormed in here demanding a tattoo and getting into an argument with my coworker, i'd have thought you were more of a badass." she says. "based on first impressions alone, you're rather intimidating. but now that i've got to know you, i know better than to be intimidated by you."

"what? i'm still intimidating!" you exclaim, now offended by her quick dismissal of your priorly deemed badassery.

"mm, no." she laughs. "you have more depth than just being some tough woman. you like to ask questions and learn about the people you meet, you can stand up for yourself while still taking good care of your dignity, you have a good eye for art and know what makes it notable, and you're ticklish."

you frown. "didn't know i was such an open book."

"you're not, really." ellie says, pulling away from your back and whirring the tattoo gone back to idle. she leans back in her chair, raising a brow at you. "i just know how to read you."

you narrow your eyes at her playfully before shifting around to stand from the cushioned chair. the tattooed area already aches with your movement but you ignore it, too excited to see the work to care much. you cross the tiled floor to where a full body mirror is nailed into the wall. you turn around, peering over your shoulder at the new tattoo.

ellie remains at her station, but watches you closely. she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she watches your every movement.

the tattoo is absolutely stunning. the dark ink forming beautifully intricate swirls and floral designs. you stare at it for a long moment before turning back around to face ellie with a wide smile on your face. "i love it."

she mirrors your grin. "i'm glad."

you walk back over to her station, sitting down on the edge of the chair. your back faces ellie as she adds ointment and a clear adhesive. her fingers are cold, never failing to make your heart stutter in your chest. you ignore it, focusing on something else entirely.

"how much do you think it'll cost?" you ask as she continues to gently rub the ointment into your skin. "a few hundred, right?"

you hear ellie chuckle. "i've got it, don't worry about payment."

you instantly whip your head around to face her, your back twisting slightly. but she continues to work despite this. you stare at her with wide eyes. "you're not making me pay?"

"nah," she waves a hand dismissively. "you're fun to be around. plus, it's so late it'll just add more time to my shift waiting for you to work out everything. not to mention my coworker is ass at counting money. i'll just pay for you, easy peasy."

"you don't have to do that, ellie," you tell her, "i can pay for myself. you don't need to do this for me."

"i know." she says, looking up to meet you eyes with her own pale green ones. naught but sincerity shadows her gaze. "i know i don't have to, but i want to. i insist."

you hold her gaze for a moment longer but quickly realize there's no way you'll win this argument. she's decided. you slump your shoulders in defeat, turning back around to face forward and allow her to finish your wrapping. "fine." you grumble.

"y'know most people would be overjoyed to—"

"on one condition!" you interrupt her, your mind instantly formulating a plan to make it up to her.

"yeah? and what's that?"

"you let me take you to dinner." you declare, peering at her over your shoulder. this time, you're careful not to twist your back. "let me take you out. i pay."

her eyes widen, but you can see the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. "fine then. who am i to argue with you?"

you grin victoriously. "next friday. i pick you up."

"it's a date."

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 taglist : @luvsturniolo @zzombiegirl

[szqnxi]

OMG I NEED MORE OF NUMBER ONE FAN ITS ACTUALLY HAS ME GIGGLING AND KICKING ME FEET AHHH

Here ya go anon 😉 Also, don't hesitate to reach out if any of y'all want to be added on this fic's taglist

Your number 1 fan (Part 1)

Katsuki Bakugo x reader

Patrol was exceptionally boring, much to Katsuki's dismay. Today turned out to be a quite typical day and he absolutely hated it. There were no villains to fight or anything of the sort, which had left Katsuki itching for some action.

They had just finished patrolling the area and were currently hanging out on the rooftop of a random building in Musutafu. Kirishima and Mina  were engaged in their own conversation, bickering over options for dinner, leaving him alone to his own business.

He was scrolling through his phone, when he stumbled upon your new song called Juno. It had been released a week prior, but with his busy schedule, he hadn't had a chance to listen to it until now.

Perfect timing. He thought to himself as he put on his earphones.

Don't have to tell your hot ass a thing

Oh yeah, you just get it

Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit

God bless your dad's genetics, mm, uh

Not even a few seconds into listening and he was already certain that this would become his new favorite song of yours. The song was incredibly catchy and  he wasn't going to pretend otherwise. Katsuki was genuinely enjoying your song, finding himself unconsciously tapping his foot along to the beat.

The chorus of the song was captivating, though he wasn't really surprised by your lyricism because of your other songs.

But just when he thought the song couldn't get any better, the bridge part came along, hitting him harder than he had expected.

Adore me

Hold me and explore me

Mark your territory (Ah-ah)

Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one (Ah-ah)

He froze, muttering a curse under his breath when he pictured your pretty face singing that particular line from the song, as if you were singing it directly to him.

*Click*

Katsuki snapped out of his thoughts when he spotted Mina holding up her phone, taking a picture of him. He had been so focused on your song that he didn't notice her approaching with her phone.

"The fuck are you taking a pic for?!" He scowled at Mina, who was now grinning mischievously before taking a picture, again.

"What are you even listening to?" Mina inquired.

"None of your goddamn business" He scoffed

She swiftly snatched one of his earphones, running away a little from Katsuki before listening to the song herself. "Oohh Juno? Nice song choice!" She commented, teasingly grinning at him.

Katsuki's eyes twitched.

"You... little shit!!" He growled, launching himself at Mina and started chasing her as she laughed and ran away like her life depends on it.

Coz it does.

________________

Note: This is short lol and as usual this ain't really proof read. Also, happy 100 followers to me. Feel free to drop some scenarios in my request box and I'll see if I can add it to future parts of this fic

[minhosimthings]

D!ck

Symphony Smut Series Day 3: Doja Cat and Starbo3's D!ck

Lyric: She actin like an addict

Pairings: Husband!Sunoo × fem!wife!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, pheromone usage, p in v, oral (f receiving), dom!Sunoo, sub!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, spitting, sort of a breeding kink, brat reader, swearing, french kisses

A/N: and day 3 has come! I loved writing for Sunoo, cause I've never written for him before and also CAUSE HE'S MY AGE YAAAS. So have some pheromones even though Sunoo doest need those for me to cling onto him

THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST

Buisness trips. So boring weren't they? For the wife of a man who was constantly on them, it was even more so.

"Sunoo another party today?" You're sighed, falling back on the bed as your husband laughed and adjusted his tie in the mirror.

"Im sorry darling, but I've got to attend." Sunoo fixed his hair, carefully combing down a cowlick, "Would you like to come too? You know that blue dress has been laying idle in your cupboard for a long time."

"It's turquoise, Sun." You grumbled, getting up and giving a quick kiss to your husband, before fumbling with his tie, "I'll wear it, only if you agree to give me what I want tonight."

Sunoo chuckled and leaned closer, basically pinning you against the wall, before going in for a deep kiss. His tongue collided with yours painfully, giving you the taste of something you've been wanting to devour for weeks.

"Ngh- Sun" you wanted him to eat you out right there and then.

"Tch tch impatient aren't you?" Sunoo chuckled. You could feel his erection press against your sweatpants, rubbing arousal into you.

"Tonight sunshine." Sunoo caressed your cheek, "I promise. Tonight after the party. Get all pretty for me alright?"

The night was coming too slow for you. All throughout the day, you did nothing but laze around, annoy the cook into teaching you how to make lasagna, failing at making said lasagna, and then speed running a Pokemon game.

But the real treasure of the day were the few minutes before you were getting ready.

Patting down the creases of your perfectly ironed dress, you admired yourself in the mirror, doing a little spin for yourself, and watching as the fabric perfectly spun like a Disney scene. The pearls on your neck stood out too, with their gliterry sheen and the gold embossments.

Reaching into your perfume drawer, you spotted a green coloured tube, which was labelled 'Oil perfume'.

You chuckled at that. Oil perfume, your ass. That, you were certain, was the 'special' perfume Sunoo has gotten you from Italy.

Chuckling like a villain to yourself, you took the greasy substance from the tube and applied it to your neck and wrists, where you knew Sunoo would kiss you, inhaling the intoxicating perfumes of the pheromone, and maybe he'd give you your cake earlier than before.

"Darling, you look stunning." Sunoo greeted you, as you stepped out of your room into the hallway.

"Thank you Sun." You giggled, promptly lifting your wrists up for Sunoo to kiss.

"Nice perfume." Sunoo kissed your wrists more harshly than he usually did.

"Fuck you smell so good."

You had no time to think about anything, as the next second, you were against the wall with Sunoo an inch from your face.

Your tongue danced with his in what seemed to a synchronized tango, the two of you treating each other with as much love and affection that your bodies could exude at the moment. His hands toyed with the hem of your dress, his fingers drawing small circles on your thigh. You brought your hands up to his face when you two pulled away from the kiss, pressing your lips against the tip of his nose. His lips connected themselves to your mouth once more, a smile on his face as he did.

He led you to the top of the bed, laying you down slowly as his body hovered on top of yours. He took a moment to take you in, how the light coming from the curtains accentuated your every feature. He leaned in, pressing a small kiss to your forehead and moving on to your cheeks. "You’re so breathtaking baby." he whispered, his mouth coming to yours as he kissed you with such an intensity you'd never faced before.

He undid your dress after you gave him a curt nod, tossing it off to the side. He pressed his lips to the side of your neck, leaving wet open-mouthed kisses on the surface. You moved your neck to give him more access, offering what you could of your body so he could take. his hand moved downward, cupping your breast in his grasp. His fingers rolled around the nipples, pinching and tugging them the way that would have them hardening underneath his grasp. He bit down on your neck, his tongue running over the affected skin to soothe the sting a bit. His mouth moved down to your other breast, engulfing it and treating it the same as the other one.

You brought your hand down to his hair, grasping at the strands as his teeth gently tugged on your nipples. The buds started to erect with every swipe and lick that he took at them, his eyes locking on yours with every movement that he took. Your mouth slightly parted, your breathing starting to grow a little heavier as he stimulated your nipples. He pulled away, leaving a small kiss on the top of your breasts before pressing his lips against your stomach. He trailed kisses all the way down to your cunt, stopping where he knew that you needed him most. His lips moved to your inner thighs, pressing kisses against the delicate flesh. He bit into your right thigh, his fangs leaving their indenture when he pulled away from you.

His mouth eventually did make itself to your cunt, his tongue swiping across your folds to collect the slick that had accumulated. You closed your thighs around his head instinctively, watching as he looked up at you while licking a stripe up your pussy. "Always did taste so good for me, could spend hours buried in this pussy," he spoke up, his tongue going inside your hole after he finished with what he had to say. Your hands made their way to his hair, your fingers gently stroking his hair as he started to push his tongue in and out of you. His eyes rolled to the back of his head when your slick coated his tongue, often taking more pleasure in this than you. "Oh fuck, right there," you moaned out, your voice sounding needy as you felt his tongue hit that one spot inside of you.

He moaned, feeling your body shudder beneath him, your muscles clenching tight around his mouth. He moved faster, his fingers digging into your hips as he pressed his tongue deeper, relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure. "That's it, baby," he growled, his voice low and raspy.

You were right at that moment, feeling your belly pressurize as Sunoo moved like a maniac around your clit. But-

"Oh fuck this." Sunoo spat at your pussy, "I need you inside me."

Your eyes are fixated on his cock that yearns to be inside of your warmth. He pumps his length a few times, drops of precumming spilling out of his sensitive tip as he slowly lines himself up with your drooling entrance. You mewl out lewdly as he pushes himself in, filling you up completely and your palms fly up to his shoulders for purchase. 

You're thankful he prepped you a little bit earlier otherwise you're not so sure if you could take him in one go like this. after a few heartbeats, he rolls his hips slightly, his pelvis rubbing against your puffy clit and you moan softly. 

He picks up the tempo, his thrusts now faster and harder as the room echoes with the sounds of your pleasure and the bed creaking. his strong arms move your legs up to rest on his broad shoulders, making the position more intimate but most importantly, making it easier for him to go deeper.

Sunoo's nostrils are flared, taking in the sweet poison of your perfume. He didn't know what was making him act like this, but he loved it.

The kiss on your neck was gentle and innocent compared to the sinful actions being committed with each of his powerful thrusts. With every single drag of your tight cunt against his dick, constantly clenching around him deliberately which forced out a long string of groans as he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge.

He dotes on the sound of your sweet voice calling out his name in a choked whisper, your nails clawing down his back. Your cunt pulsing around his cock. Your juices spilling from your hole as he thrusts into you like there's no tomorrow.

"Fuck Sunoo!" you cry as you cream around his cock, cunt tensing around him which pushes him over the edge too. He lets out a broken moan as his warmth fills you up. he stays inside of you for a few moments, not wanting his cum to go to waste. 

"So I guess we'll be skipping the party today?" You look at your husband cheekily.

Sunoo glared at you and gripped your waist more tightly.

"You used that perfume didn't you?" He poked his cheek with his tongue, "Didn't know you were such an impatient slut for me."

"Don't worry darling.

I've not even started yet."