#girl this does FUCK ALL for me give me a physical fucking button to click something tangible and real please god i'm begging u

[percontaion-points]

Firstlife chapter 23

Today’s review might be difficult for some; reader discretion is advised

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 23

“Ten! I’m so glad you’re okay. I knew something was wrong when your dad refused to give me the name and address of the boarding school you were supposedly attending, but I had no idea...not until the girl, Elena, came to see me.”

In the wake of the Lori Vallow sentencing (woman who murdered her children and then ran off to Hawaii), I’m thinking about how odd that the entire thing must have seemed to the Lockwood’s friends and extended family. Like where is the girl, Mr. L? Why can’t you produce her?

I’m wondering why nobody called the police about the entire thing. But then again, maybe stuff like CPS doesn’t exist in a world where a parent can decide to ship his child off to a place that routinely canes, waterboards, and poisons literal children. 

She sprays something clear into the wound and the bleeding stops. With the glass in front of her—the light illuminating my hip—she picks up what looks to be a pair of tweezers and slips the tips inside my wound. Again, there’s no pain, but I do feel pressure. 

So six years ago, I had a really big cyst grow on my hip. (Which wow, the placement of the chip in Ten is 100% NOT LOST ON ME) I ended up going to a dermatologist near me who numbed me up, and made an incision. That part didn’t hurt.

But you want to know what fucking hurt like the motherfucking dickins? Her poking around and squeezing all of the puss out from the cyst. 

So yeah. I’m calling bullshit. This was written by somebody who has never once experienced anything similar in their life. 

“A drug,” she explains. “We call it Special K.”

Okay, so I’m down with the entire “the future technology tracking chip has an anti-kill switch”. But what’s confusing me is that this tiny microchip Ten didn’t even know was in her hip has drugs in it. 

Like after a few hours of timed release, it would be FUCKING EMPTY. 

“You died,” she repeats, and I’m not sure she’s talking to me or to herself. “I killed you. I’m sorry.” Then she slams the tip of her paintbrush into my jugular.

Chapter 23 summary: Killian takes Ten to her Aunt Lina’s house, as promised. He says he has to go destroy the car, but that he’ll find her again. Lina takes Ten into a shed out back, which is described as “looking like a serial killer’s heaven”. She straps Ten onto a table, and says that the chip can have a reaction. After looking over Ten’s body to find the site, she determines that it’s in Ten’s hip, and starts trying to pull it out.

But Ten does indeed have a reaction, and… If you’ve ever seen Good Place with Michael trying to press the button and kill Janet, then it’s kind of like that. “No no, I need it in me! If you take it out, then I’ll die!” But the second that Lina actually takes it out, Ten is like “Dafaq?” The book tries to explain this, but the half-assed explanation somehow makes the entire thing worse. Willing to accept magical future technology, but the drug is confusing. 

Seconds after that, Lina shoves Ten into a hole in the floor. They can hear people moving around violently above, and Ten knows that her time there is up. They walk through a wet tunnel, and Ten feels physically ill with the idea that they might be walking around in used toilet water. Which… same. 

They come up in another house where there are several people who are strung out on whatever drug. Lina makes them change, although since they were wet– regardless of what was in that water– Ten doesn’t argue. 

However, as they’re leaving, Lina seems to snap. She starts saying all of this stuff about “I was so sad when you died!” in a voice like she’s 5 years old. She then stabs Ten in the neck with a paintbrush she randomly grabbed. And I’d like to go on the record and say that this would have been better if the author hadn’t flat out told us about Ten’s death in a drug house a while ago. 

[chicomecoatl]

Fuck wireless headphones fr tho

[hyuckshaze]

zoom shenanigans - l.dh

✩‌ haechan ‌x‌ ‌fem!reader‌ ‌|‌ boyfriend!haechan | smut | ‌1.6k+ words ✩

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ you don’t quite know how hyuck convinced you to sit on him while in a class zoom call

WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ exhibitionism, unprotected sex, dom!sub themes, asphyxiation, edging/overstimulation, spitting, slight humiliation, degradation (use of words such as whore, slut etc.), dumbification, slight dacryphylia, salirophilia, dirty talk - basically pure and absolute filth!

AUTHOR’S NOTES ⇾ i couldn’t stop thinking about this throughout the entirety of my online classes today, so i just had to write about it to get it off my chest. i am an absolute slut when it comes to dom!hyuck, so this is just self-indulgence really. enjoy! not proofread so please message if there’s any errors, or anything missing from the warning list! - lex

You don’t quite know how Hyuck convinced you to sit on him while in a class zoom call. 

He’d driven you insane. You’d been sat on his cock since the start of your lesson, for which your teacher, thank God, had decided that cameras did not need to be on. The class only lasted an hour, with you sitting on his lap in his gaming chair because ‘your desk chair just isn’t comfy enough, Y/N’, according to him anyway. You thought your desk chair was perfectly comfy, but he insisted. 60 minutes doesn’t seem all that long in the grand scheme of things, but with a boyfriend as evil as Donghyuck, of course he knew just how to make that hour feel like an eternity, teasing you relentlessly throughout. His lips brushing against your ear as you tried your hardest to complete the set work, whispering unspeakable promises into your ear and sending dark shivers down your spine. Though you couldn’t see his face, you knew the exact expression that was plastered on his face as his wandering hands roamed your body, squeezing and pinching all the spots that he knew would have you squirming in his hold. By far, the most infuriating thing he would do, though, was to snake his hand around your body whenever you had to turn your microphone on, fingers rubbing your clit in circles that had you biting back loud and sensual moans, managing to suppress the noises down to sighs which, as a University student, were not all that uncommon to hear. 

It’s when the time hits 11:50am, exactly 10 minutes before the end of the lesson (you know because you began checking it, what seemed like, every few seconds, sensing his growing impatience), that his self-control evaporates. With a raspy grunt, his hand wraps around your neck and he thrusts up into you, hard, fast and rough. You gasp, face contorting in pleasure at the sudden movements which have you crying out and grasping at the desk in front of you in order to stay upright. You whine as his grip on your neck tightens, pulling you back towards his chest in one, swift movement. A yelp escapes your lips, now blindly grabbing at the armrests on either side of the chair in order to stop your legs from giving out. Not that you’d go anywhere, Hyuck’s rigid grip on you made sure of that. His hot breath against the back of your neck caused goosebumps to form on your exposed skin, a shudder going through your body at the overwhelming amount of pleasure. His hand on your neck pushes your jaw backwards, the back of your head resting on his shoulder as he looks down at your flushed face, tears of pleasure collecting at the corners of your wide and innocent eyes, perfect pink lips parted so beautifully, not to mention the dream-worthy sounds escaping them. How could he have ended up with such a perfect little girl? His hand moves for only a split second from your neck, squeezing your cheeks together in order to open your mouth. He spits harshly into your now open mouth, pressing your cheeks shut again afterwards. You let out a sudden and uncontrollable moan at the sound of him doing such a filthy thing, feeling his spit hit your tongue forcefully. You know what he wants. You close your mouth and swallow, his hand creeping back down towards your neck as you show him your empty mouth.

“That’s my good girl.” He rasps, giving a tight squeeze to your neck once more.

With your eyes squeezed so tightly shut, you almost forget that you’re supposed to be listening to your Biomedical Sciences lecturer drone on about Haematology and Transfusion. Almost.

“Right, now that’s done, everyone turn your cameras on for this last task. We’re going to be going through the homework assignment that I set for you all last week, don’t think you can get away without speaking either! I’m gonna be asking you all questions about the task.” His words barely register in your mind, your head fuzzy and body shaking at the feeling of your boyfriend rearranging your insides so delectably. After a few moments, his words seem to sink in and your eyes shoot open, urgently whispering Hyuck’s name. There was no way you could turn on your camera, you’d have to lie. I dropped my laptop; my WiFi is lagging; my room is a mess. A thousand ways to excuse yourself ran through your mind, albeit at a much slower pace than usual. You could only focus so much through the feeling of Haechan fucking into you so hard and fast. Your desperate whines of his name are interrupted as he hums into your ear, not slowing his hips or showing any sign of stopping. If anything, it becomes even harder to think at his words.

“We both know that’s not what you call me when I’m fucking you, baby.” He growls into your ear, pounding into you with even more force, rendering you barely capable of thinking, let alone talking. Your walls clench tightly around his hard cock, a string of curses escaping your boyfriend’s pink lips as he grunts loudly at the feeling.

“M-my professor s-said-” You start, barely able to string a sentence together.

“I heard what your professor said, baby. Turn on your camera. Show your entire class how much of a filthy little slut you are for me. Show them how this perfect A* student cums all over my dick, huh? You’d like that wouldn’t you? Everyone seeing the perfect little teachers pet coming all over her boyfriends cock during her class? Everyone seeing how fucking dumb you get for my dick?” You bite your lip, holding back a scream. You can’t, however, stop a broken whimper from escaping you.

“Fuck! Yes, yes, yes, yes! Please, oh my God!” The hand that isn’t clutching your neck so tightly moves downwards, fingers brushing your clit so delicately.

“Please... Please what, slut?” He spits, tears now leaking down your face, chest shaking as you hold in overwhelmed sobs.

“Please Daddy!” You cry out, mascara beginning to smudge as you clench your eyes shut so tightly. You no longer care about your waiting professor, you no longer care about the entire class, it’s only Haechan. He is all you can feel and think.

“Y/N, we’re waiting on you to turn your camera on...” Your professor presses, but you don’t even hear him. It’s only when your boyfriend stops all of his movement, hand slipping away from your throat, reaching down and reclining his gaming chair into a laying position, that you realise what he wants.

“No, no, no. Please, Hyuckie!” You whine, head spinning at the loss of movement. He’s laying practically flat now, out of view of the camera. You try to move, rolling your hips atop his dick but his fingers dig into your hips hard, almost painfully, as he holds you in place, smirking up at your shaking figure with mirth.

“Go on, baby. Turn on your camera.” He warns, fingers digging even harder into your hips. You send him an exasperated look, to which he gives you the look. You know what that means. ‘Do as I fucking say, or you’ll regret it’. 

Your shaky hands reach over to the laptop, clicking the camera button as you let out an uneven breath. After a few seconds, your face appears on the screen. Your eyes widen. What your boyfriend had failed to inform you, was that your face was flushed and sweaty, mascara smudging your cheeks in obvious tear streaks, a drop of his spit glittering as it sat upon your chin. You wiped your face on your sleeve as soon as you catch sight of yourself, moving forward to pretend to be sorting a non-existing wire behind your screen as you try to make yourself look more presentable. As you do so, you hear his voice whisper.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you called me just then and don’t think you’re getting away with it. ‘Hyuckie’ doesn’t fuck you the way Daddy does.” His low tone causes you to clench around him, taking a deep breath at his teasing words. He scoffs at your silence, squeezing your ass, hard, so that you let out a small whimper. He hums in satisfaction as you plaster an obviously fake smile onto your face before leaning back, clicking on the unmute button for only a moment before abruptly turning it off again, barely having finished your sentence, as Haechan’s rock hard dick twitches inside your sensitive pussy.

“Sorry, Professor. I had tech issues.” 

✩  ✩   ✩

Those last 8 minutes of class felt like an eternity, and your boyfriend made sure of that. You thought you’d done a pretty good job at hiding it, though. Not one person gave you a funny or disgusted look as you answered the Professor’s questions and kept a small, albeit forced, smile on your face. You couldn’t help but feel a twisted form of pride at your ability to pretend as though nothing was happening as you sat atop of Hyuck’s dick, enduring his endless verbal and physical teasing throughout.

It wasn’t until after the two of you were finished, long after the class had done so, that your boyfriend checked his phone

“Y/N...” You heard him call from the bathroom. You couldn’t find the energy to move, simply humming in acknowledgement at his hesitant-sounding call. He enters the bedroom in all his naked glory, carrying a small, wet cloth in order to clean you up in one hand, his phone in the other. Your eyes trace his naked body, focusing on the smooth, tanned skin. He really was a sight for sore eyes, somebody that you could never get tired of looking at. You’re disrupted from staring at his body when he holds his phone out in front of your face. You reluctantly tear your eyes from his torso, focusing in on the brightly lit screen, squinting slightly to read the text upon it.

“ 

MESSAGES

Jaemin

fucking your gf during her zoom class, nice one bro. though, you might wanna make sure that you actually hang up next time. the whole class was still there, apart from the prof. not that they’re complaining, i saw their faces. they’re gonna be getting off to that for the entirety of lockdown, i swear! 

“

Needless to say, nobody in class called you the Teacher’s Pet anymore.

✩   ✩   ✩ 

[erodasfishtacos]

Three Minutes

Prompt: Harry slips up and it’s only right his wife serves him a little punishment.

Word Count: 3.2 k +

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (sexting, dirty talk, public, subby!h)

AN: I’m excited to share this!! I’m pretty sure I’m going to do a part 2. Let me know if you’d like to see this! I’m dedicating this to @harrywritingsbyme because she’s an amazing writer and you need to read everything of hers! Requests open ☺️

Reblog if you can!

Harry was dreading his interview with Howard Stern. The guy was an obnoxious prick who had no filter and liked to put people on the spot - it’s what he’s doing right now. 

You were off to the side, watching the interview next to Jeff. It was matter of time before Howard brought you up to pick and prod at your husband.

“So Harry, you’re married, yes?” Howard asks, typical sunglasses on and curly permed hair donned. His mouth a little to close to the microphone.

“Yeah, I am,” Harry smiles tightly, hands rubbing on this upper thighs. He spares a quick glance over to you.

“She’s here, right?” Howard looks over at you and winks, “Fucking gorgeous babe, huh?”

You roll your eyes at the interviewers remark and Harry’s isn’t pleased but nicely responds, “She’s amazing, way out of my league.”

Howard laughs, “Now I have to ask you, does she tour with you?”

Harry replies, “Yeah. For the most part, sometimes she’ll go off to visit family or friends for a bit.”

The interview smirks, “Does she get worried you’re going to fuck other people while she’s not there? I mean you have girls falling at your feet. It must be hard to avoid temptation.”

You blink owlishly, attempting to contain the offended scoff bubbling in your throat. Jeff snickers and you send him a elbow.

Your husbands face can’t hide his annoyance at the question, “Are you asking me if it’s hard not to cheat on my wife?”

“I mean you could have a line up of girls after every show willing to blow you. I couldn’t be satisfied going home to the same thing every night.”

The band is looking back and forth at each other - clearly uncomfortable. Mitch’s face completely blank - of course.

“Well, I mean - I think that kind of stuff like...people going crazy over you was exciting when I was a bit younger. But no, I mean I’m very much in love and also consider myself a monogamous person.”

“Man, I mean - some of the songs you write about her? Watermelon Sugar, that’s clearly about eating her out,” Howard laughs, the tune playing softly in the background.

Jeff nearly chokes on the water he’s drinking and you pat him hard on the back - as payback for making Harry do this interview.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had pussy so good I’d write about it,” the interview jokes crudely. The women interviewer tittering in the background at his antics.

Harry fumbles, “Uh-uhm, it’s not uh- necessarily about anything or any act like...in particular. Just about having a good time with the person you love.”

The female interviewer who stays mostly quite chirps in to break the tension, “Is it hard to be long-distance when she’s not on the road with you?”

“Not at all. Most of the time she’s with me but we’re lucky we have technology that helps us not feel so far away from each other.”

Howard smiles, “How do you not go crazy being without sex for long amounts of time?”

It’s odd how obsessed this guy is with sex. As well as painting Harry as some sex-crazed rockstar who can’t go a day without.

Harry then goes on to put his entire, big ass foot in his mouth. “Y‘know that’s uh-that’s what good about FaceTime and Snapchat.”

The interviewer grins like a predator at Harry’s admission. You’re face is bright fucking pink. You’re gonna murder him.

“Well you heard it here first, folks. The key to how Harry Styles - one of the greatest artist of his time- keeps a happy relationship with his wife while he’s on the road. Dick pics and FaceTime sex.”

Harry glances over at you, his face apologetic as he already knows he in trouble.

You’re not that embarrassed - it not like it’s a weird thing to do but you didn’t want him talking about it with a trashy talk show host. 

The interview is almost over which is good because Harry’s about to lose his temper after he’s asked about his step-father’s passing and the stalker who was harassing you two.

During the interview however, you get a wonderful fucking idea as easy payback for Harry’s little slip up.

After Harry’s tossed his headset and microphone pack off with a little too much force to be unnoticeable - he’s sliding up beside you.

“Baby love,” He murmurs sheepishly into your cheek, nuzzling there for a moment, and breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

“You did good, H,” You reply softly, landing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling back to brush his hair off his forehead.

“Y’not mad?” Harry asks warily, knowing he got nervous and gave a little too much information.

“No baby, not mad at all,” Your voice steady and believable. It was true - you weren’t mad, just a little annoyed.

He seems confused. He knows you like the back of his hand and usually, you get peeved when he says something in interviews you’d rather the word not know.

Like the one time he let it slip you had an affinity for hooking up in hotel pools after dark. Prat.

**

Harry multiple appearances that day and it ends in a dinner at a fancy restaurant in Beverly Hills with big wigs.

You were invited but declined, despite Harry’s pouting and whines for you to go. You were the only thing that made these work obligations go faster.

However, you had other plans and a little bit of revenge to play on your unsuspecting husband.

All in good fun - of course.

**

Harry sits down with a group of people from his label. They’re all dressed in tight suits and rolex watches.

Harry on the other hand is in a flowy button-up only halfway done and a tight pair is skinny jeans. Jeff is dressed pretty casually too.

They were talking about tour dates and had just received their appetizers when he gets the text from you. Your name in his phone as baby love.

Harry nearly chokes on his water when he opens the message to reveal an image of you nearly naked in your shared bed. You skin tone standing out against the baby blue comforter.

You have one of his vintage tees on as well as some creme boyshort panties. The shirt is lifted though, rumpled up by your collarbones to reveal your breasts.

Harry wants to drool over the picture but doesn’t want to risk anyone else seeing his wife in any state of undress. So he quickly responds.

Baby, I’m at dinner.

You reply with another picture. A hand tucked down your underwear, cupping your heat. He can see the outline of your fingers underneath the thin fabric.

Already have something you could eat.

Harry can already feel himself twitch in his jeans. Cut it the fuck out now

Another. Fucking. Picture. Comes through.

This time you’re completely stripped, tits visible with soft pink peaks, and a hand strategically covering your cunt. 

Make me, H.

It clicks what game you’re playing. You rarely sent anything risqué when you where together because you had each other physically.

Harry curses under his breathe, locking his phone and pushing back his chair a little too fast - excusing himself to the loo.

As soon as he clicks the lock on the single-person restroom, he’s pressing on your contact information and you pick up on the very first ring.

“You bloody brat, I’m out at dinner,” Harry hisses at you, giving himself a rough squeeze through his tighten trousers.

All he hears back is a breathy moan. He’d know that sound anywhere - you’re touching yourself.

“What the fuck are you playin’ at?” Your husband demands, but the clipped edge in his tone tells you how much it’s affecting him.

“Just a little payback, babe...for spilling our dirty secrets,” you hum innocently, deciding to send him another picture.

It’s a simple photo without context some might not even understand. It’s just your hand but your fingers glistening with your arousal. 

Harry’s hand is about to crush is phone into bits as his eyes roam the picture. He was nearly panting, already able to imagine the taste and smell.

He takes a deep breath before he threatens you, “if you don’t pull your desperate little self together right now- I’m not going anywhere near that needy cunt and I’ll make you spend all night choking on me.”

Instead of the typical, sad whimpers he expects to hear - he receives a patronizing, high-pitched giggle.

“That’s not how it’s going to work tonight, H,” you inform him in a matter-of-fact manner before continuing, “we’re playing by my rules.”

Your husband laughs in disbelief, echoing against the bleak bathroom walls, “and what those rules, sweetheart?”

“You’re going to go sit through your nice little dinner, rockstar. And I’m going to send you pictures, maybe some videos to watch to keep you entertained. If you don’t open them within three minutes each time and reply - you’re not coming tonight. The couch will have a blanket and pillow ready for you.”

If he was in charge, he’d laugh and remind you that you two have three lovely guest rooms he could choose from. But he doesn’t want to push it.

“Fuck,” Harry spits, having to cram his hand into his jeans to adjust himself so he doesn’t look like a pervert when he goes back out.

But he was so fucking game.

He’d do anything you wanted from him - no matter if he could embarrass himself in front of business partners or fans. He was besotted, whipped, whatever you wanted to call him.

“Are you going to be good for me, baby?” You coo tauntingly, from the other end of the line. Basking in his little huffs of air and the agitated lift in his voice.

“Yeah, m’gonna be good,” he murmurs gruffly, his demeanor had changed now that he wasn’t in charge any longer - always willing to let you be dominant when you wanted to be. 

It wasn’t often - but when you did, Harry would fall into a nice, fuzzy headspace of compliance and submission. He always wanted to please and this amplified all of his desires.

“Best husband I could ask for, you know?” You reward, knowing that the games are just getting started and you wanted to make this last.

“I love you s’much,” Harry automatically returns, with deep devotion and honesty. His voice as sweet as maple syrup.

“Are you hard, H?” 

He grips himself, like he’d just remember, “m’really fucking hard for you.”

“Snap an picture for me, pull yourself together, and then go back to your table - don’t forget the rules.”

“Yes ba-“

Then you end the call while he’s talking.

Harry’s a little shaky as he swipes onto his camera. He grips the thick outline of his cock, rings glinting in the dull lights, and takes a picture.

He hopes it’s good enough and quickly sends it before splashes some cold water on his face and thinking of anything but his naked wife laying at home in their bed - wet and horny.

Jeff gives him a side-eye when he sits back down, casually throwing a napkin over his lap because he can’t help the semi that refuses to go down all together.

“You alright?” His manager asks him, the others still in the throws of tour venues and vendors discussions.

Harry nods, lying easily “the missus couldn’t find her phone charger - thought I nipped it.”

“You do love to steal those,” his friends agrees before cutting off one of them men to suggest three days at Madison Square Garden instead of two.

Harry’s clutching his phone like a lifeline, anticipating the indicative text vibrations that let him know you’ve sent something.

However, despite how many times he checks, fifteen minutes pass and still nothing has sent from you. He almost starts to worry if you’re okay.

But just like the sneaky little thing you are, you wanted to give him enough time to calm down and relax before rilining him up again.

When it finally alerts him, he’s unlocking his phone and opening the message thread as fast as possible. 

The picture makes his jaw almost drop on the fucking carpeted floor. You’re in one the large closets in your home- the one that holds all of his Gucci suits in particular.

There is a massive floor to ceiling mirror in this room that you’re standing in front of. You’ve slid on one of his custom silk Gucci button-ups that has styles embroidered on the breast pocket without doing doing up any of the buttons.

He’s an absolutely goner for you in anything that makes you look like his property - the large engagement ring and wedding band on your left ring-finger satiates that feeling quite well.

It takes he a moment before he realizes what else you’re wearing. Your fucking collar. It sat tight around your neck, the expensive leather biting into your skin.

Your one hand was holding the phone and the other had a hand teasing at one of your hardened nipples through the silk fabric of the shirt.

He keeps his phone in his lap with a dim light setting so nobody can risk a chance at seeing such explicits pictures of what’s his.

You look so good with my name on you, baby. Please, want to see you in just the collar, take off the shirt.

Harry fumbles along with the conversation, that’s revolving all around him, “Yeah, I loved Argentina. Definitely want to got there again.”

Buzz.

How’d you already forget I’m in charge? Maybe I’ll just go to bed if you’re not going to follow instructions.

As punishment - if you can really call it that - in the next image you don’t have the collar on any longer and you’ve done up a few buttons on the silk shirt.

Harry feels panicked at the thought of you stopping. He was in a nice, soft headspace clinging onto anything you were willing to give him - desperate to make you happy.

I’m sorry, baby. I’ll be good for you. You’re so fucking sexy. I can basically taste you on my tongue.

“Harry?” Jeff draws him out of his haze. He’s looking at him expectantly, eyebrow quirked, and a martini in his hand.

“What did you say?” Harry asks, eyes itching to dart back down to the screen of his mobile.

“Would you want Kacey to open for you again in North America?” Jeff repeats with annoyance.

“Oh, uh-yeah, that’d be great,” he tells them without really think about it.

He should be paying attention to this pretty important meeting but he can’t when he gets another alert.

The video is back in the bedroom, your delicate fingers sliding down your torso with the button-up pooled around your ribs.

Your hand slowly, at a near crawl- traces down with the camera until the manicured tips of your fingers are at your mound.

Harry’s stomach is tensing in excitement as he watches your fingers dip into the part in your slick, swollen folds.

He has to bite back a groan when the video cuts off and he reads the text below the attachment.

Was this the pussy you enjoyed eating so much you won a Grammy writing about? Was Howard right in his interview?

If Harry was in charge, he would have delivered a few resounding smacks to your arse for how cocky you were being - despite it being the absolute truth.

Did he write and win a Grammy based on a song about how much he loved eating his wife out? Sure fucking did.

Baby love. Yeah, wrote it about you. Write all my songs about how much I love you and your body. Everything is yours.

Harry is so good when he’s subby - is the thing.

Harry was a sappy sod anyways, always ready to tell you how much he loved you and thousand of other sweet things. This just amplified all of his warm, fuzzy emotions.

Send me a picture of your left hand

He hesitates for a moment, still nodding along to the ebb and flow of the business talk but having no actual idea what they’re talking about.

Harry places his large, wide hand flat on the table in front of him. He knew why you wanted his left hand - you were just as possessive as him. 

You want to see his long, slim fingers that feel so good inside of you. You want to see the glimmer of his wedding band as well as the tattoo of your name on the outer curve of his hand.

He doesn’t think to turn off his flash. It ends up going off in the dimly lit restaurant and blinding the table, reflecting off the silver flatware. 

He looks like a complete knob - taking a picture of his hand but also something weird Harry may do anyways and upload to his Instagram.

The men blink a few times and look at him with a confused expression. Jeff jabs him roughly in the side.

“Uh, snapchat streak,” he mumbles, tucking his phone back into his lap and sending it.

You were cutting it close, babe. 2 minutes, I don’t like waiting. But fuck, who’s name is that on your hand, who’s that ring for?

You, you baby. All of its for you, promise. I belong to you, only you for the rest of my life.

The response is quick.

But...you have girls falling at your feet, lining up to blow you.

A direct quote for the interview today. Brat - she knew how he hated when people assumed or talked like he had no self control or morals.

Only want your mouth, your cunt, your tits. So bloody gone for you, baby. Please send me another video.

He really shouldn’t be egging you on.

Your being greedy but you’ve been following the rules so I’ll allow it.

The video does not disappoint. You’re hand is nestled down between your thighs, pinching at your puffy, stimulated bud. Just the amount of pain you like. It’s a short clip but it has him wriggling in his seat.

He watches it again but before he can finish it - Jeff is snatching his phone out of his shaky hands and tucking it into his own pants pocket.

The manager’s obviously sick of the lack of focus and honestly, how disrespectful Harry’s being which is something he usual never is.

“Pay attention,” he whispers with a sharp, irritated tone before clapping Harry on the back to play off the scolding to the group.

Harry feels a knot form in his stomach as his phone sits stagnant in his friends pocket. His wife sitting, impatiently waiting for his response that she’s not going to get.

He watches his vintage wristwatch as fifteen minutes pass, he hears a few buzzes from his phone that go unattended.

Harry’s not fuzzy anymore - well not in a good way. He has anxiety bubbling in his tummy and his semi had finally disappeared from nerves of disappointing you.

He decides to engage in the conversation to keep his mind off of what is waiting for him at home. He craved to look at those images and videos again. To have it in real life.

**

It had been three hours since he responded. The people at the table insisting on dessert and alcoholic coffees despite Harry saying he was exhausted from a long day of promo.

At the end of dinner, Harry would love to lie and say he’s recovered from his shakiness but he hadn’t.

After shaking the hands of the record label men, he walks to his car with Jeff. He gets a nice talking to before his phone is being placed back into his hand and he’s sliding into his obnoxious vintage Ferrari.

He takes a deep breathe before he unlocks his phone. The buzzes he heard where not all from you. A few from Twitter, his mum, Niall. There was only one from you.

Game Over. You lose.

—

Thank you for reading💕🥺

[danidrabbles]

OCTOBER 1: KNIFE PLAY

Notes: Kicking Kinktober off with the following. Thank you as always @javier-pena for reading this over for me!

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+!)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: SMUT, established relationship, romance???, sexy use of knives (...i hope), sliiiiightly dub-con but that’s Dave for ya, dirty talk, gags, 1 **** (dedicated to Kelli and Cris 😘) If I forgot anything important, please let me know!

The slam of the door startles you awake. Sitting up in bed, you listen to him rummage around downstairs, trace his path through the kitchen, the living room, and up the stairs. Usually, he’s more quiet, at least attempts to not wake you, but the fact that he doesn’t must mean that today is one of those days.

You know what Dave does; your darling husband by day, something else entirely by night.

It hadn’t started off like that, is what he told you once he came clean. He really had been a CIA operative before becoming what he is now. But this suited him better. He had tried to explain what that meant, careful not to scare you; that people paid good money to eliminate other people, that it sometimes got messy.

But you weren’t scared. You tried to explain that to him, and that mutual understanding, that you were the same on some level others might consider fucked up, it deepened your bond, your marriage, in a way you never expected.

The bedroom door sweeps open, his silhouette dark in the deep of the night, painted in shadows, but the little light in the room does allow you to take note of the blood that has dried on his face. It makes you inhale deeply, fisting the duvet under your hands and waiting for him to make the first move.

It’s one of those days, after all.

Dave reaches you in two big steps, his boots heavy against the protesting wooden floor, but waits at the end of the bed, gnawing at his bottom lip and balling his fists like he has to physically hold himself back.

“It’s okay,” you say, and as soon as you do, he’s on you. Sheets discarded, he crawls over you, pushing you back against the mattress. His eyes roam your face, and he seems to be looking for more than that, so you give him more affirmations. “You can take what you need.”

Wordlessly, he straddles you, a thigh on either side of your body, and you’re trapped below the weight of him, your arms pinned to your side, the fabric of your nightgown stretched across your frame. There’s a barely-there roll of his hips, and he’s unmistakably hard as he seeks out the friction against you. He reaches behind himself, then produces his knife from his back pocket. With a click, the blade reveals itself, glinting like a promise and fuck, it shouldn’t make a burst of arousal flare up inside of you, but it does.

“You would let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” Dave asks as he turns the knife over in his hand once, twice, before giving you an expectant look.

“Yes,” you answer, obedient, eager, honest—because you would.

The cold blade—phosphated carbon steel, as he once explained to you—presses against the skin at your collarbone, the tip just hitting the side of your neck, and you swear you can feel your pulse racing against the sharp steel.

You know exactly what he can do with it, what he has done with it, and yet you trust him, literally with your life.

“You won’t hurt me, not unless you know I want it.”

You don’t miss the way he grins, or grinds down against you, or how he inspects your body under his. In a flash, he hooks the knife under one of the straps of your nightgown and pulls, the fabric parting easily around the top of the blade.

An eager hand pulls at the flap of fabric until he can fill his hand with the soft, plump flesh of your breast. With a gasp, you arch up against him, crying out when he pinches your nipple and twists.

You expect him to go for the other strap, expose your tits to him and play with them until you’re begging him for more, but instead, he fists the torn fabric and pulls it away from your body, bringing the knife up to begin cutting a slit right down the middle. With each rip-rip-rip of fabric, the throb between your legs gets more intense, and an actual moan escapes your lips when he fists the last bit of it and pulls, tearing the garment in half and pushing it to the sides of your body.

His finger dips under the waistband of your underwear, grazing just where the soft curls on your mound begin. He toys with it, pulling it from your body and letting the elastic snap against your skin, before hooking his finger back under it.

“Want me to tear this off, too?” he asks, focusing not on your face, but on the task at hand.

You take a deep breath. “Use the knife.”

That earns you his attention, something akin to pride flashing across his face before he looks back down. In one rapid move, the blade slides over your hip bone and under the fabric of your underwear. With a tug, it tears, the elastic snapping and the material folding back, exposing you to his hungry eyes.

Your head falls back against the pillow, and you moan as he repeats the action on the other side, again when he rips the fabric from between your legs.

“Open up,” he orders.

You try to move your legs, open them for him, but with his thighs still on either side of yours, it’s impossible. Just as you’re about to protest, he leans over you, grabbing you by the chin.

“Open. Your mouth.”

His fingers find your face, and the pinch to your cheeks borders on painful, making you open your mouth with a wet gasp.

Even in the dark, you can see him smile, before he tilts your head back just a tick and spits. His smile only grows when you welcome it with a moan, eyes fluttering and body surging under him before you swallow. “That’s my good girl,” he praises, kissing your open mouth before stuffing your ruined panties inside of it.

The blade is back at your throat, and the pressure of it against your voice box abruptly cuts off your answering whine. With a rough exhale Dave sits back and begins dragging the dull side of it down your body. Still, you find yourself holding your breath, your chest jutting out with the effort. Chin to your chest, you watch as he circles your nipple, once, twice, until it begins standing to attention, hardening at the cold, gentle touch. He brings it back to the centre of your chest and slides it over to your other breast, flicking at your nipple. Satisfied with how your body quivers under his, he slides the blade further down your body, following the bump of your ribcage to your belly button and down.

He shuffles back, and despite the fact that his body is no longer keeping your arms incapacitated, you keep them pressed against your torso while he crawls between your legs. With his free hand, he pulls one over each of his thighs, spreading you open for him to look at, to take you.

The knife kisses the sensitive skin of your thighs, and he keeps teasing you while he opens his trousers and takes his cock out. His eyes fix themselves on your cunt, no doubt glistening with want, even in the dim light of the night.

“You get so fucking wet for this shit, it’s depraved, sweetheart,” he grits out, and despite the fact he says it like he’s scolding you, you know he loves it. Dave is a dark man in more ways than one, and he loves that you’re like this. Like him. For him. With him.

He proves you right when he begins stroking himself, a ragged sigh sailing past his lips as he throws his head back, exposing the thick, strained tendons in his neck. He allows himself a couple seconds of relief, before he stops himself with a long exhale, a hand trailing up your thigh to touch you where you’re more than ready for him.

He fills you with two thick fingers, curling and stroking at your slippery walls, and it’s so much at once, making you cry out against the makeshift gag in your mouth.

“This sweet pussy is going to feel so perfect around my cock,” he says, eyes only leaving yours when he slowly pulls his fingers free, groaning softly at the way your body pulls at him, working to keep him inside. “Would you like that?”

You nod in the dark, unable to help yourself from bucking your hips to chase his touch. The hand that still holds the knife is quick to push you down, the blade glinting dangerously close to your hip bone.

“Want me to put it in, baby? Want me to put it all in? Push all the way inside until you can’t think about anything else but how deep you can feel me inside you?” He slides himself over your mound, pushing until the head of his cock can smear wetly under your belly button, showing off just what that would mean.

There’s so much you wish you could tell him right now. That yes, you want it. That you want him so badly to just take what he wants from you, here, like this, between the shreds of your clothes where you’re spread for the taking. That this ‘depraved shit’ does make you wet, it does when it’s him, when he uses you, when he makes it hurt.

But your affirmation is suppressed against the fabric in your mouth, nothing but incoherent, muffled babbles filling the bedroom.

And yet, it’s like he can tell exactly what you’d been thinking, because the knife hits the floor with a clatter, and if he gave you any time, you might be able to analyse the sudden surge of emotion that flows through you at the idea.

But he doesn’t give you that time. The sound of the blade startles you almost as much as the fat tip of his cock notching at your entrance, as the slide of him inside, as the sharp thrust that makes his thighs slap against the back of yours. He pushes you up the mattress with the force of it, and your hand flies up to press a palm against the headboard to keep your head from knocking against it.

“Fucking Christ,” he sighs, stilling for a second to revel in the tight squeeze of your pussy before he draws back and spears himself through your slick walls - again, again, again.

“I’m gonna make this pussy come,” he promises, voice strained. “I’m gonna make it flood my cock and then I’m gonna cover you in my come,” he adds, a hand dragging over your torso, thumb and pinkie catching on your hardened nipples before he settles his hand on your hip to pull you down against him.

The head of his cock knocks against the button of your womb with each thrust, and at your silenced keens, he falls down to a forearm, eyes boring into yours as he continues to fuck you. “I’ve got you, baby,” he assures.

Your hand curls around his bicep, fingernails digging into the fabric of his long-sleeved top. It’s wet, warm, no doubt evidence of his successful mission, and that thought, your body’s response to it, eases the glide of him inside you.

“I’ve got you,” he repeats, his hand leaving your hip to slide between your legs, to draw maddening circles around your slippery, puffy clit, and with the way he’s been working you up, you already know it will take no time at all. “You know that, right?”

You nod with a muffled groan, focusing on the way he stretches you open and plays with your clit, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes with how hard you squeeze them shut as it builds—as it all builds.

You know.

--

Thank you for reading! I hope to see you all tomorrow for October 2: Stripping. Anyone who guesses correctly which character I’ve written for will get a sneak peek at the fic in their DMs😌

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[the-modernmary]

chess, not checkers || a. hotchner x f!reader

Summary: Cross-examining Agent Hotchner should have been a lot more simple than it had been. But when the questioning slips out of your control, you find yourself being profiled right there in the middle of the courtroom. Amazing how one stranger can know you better than anybody you've ever met.

Contains: SMUT! 18+ only, minors DNI. Fingering, (light) choking, semi-public sex, adultery, anger sex, enemies to lovers, edging, lawyer hotch <3

Word Count: 8k+

Comments: This is so heavily inspired by “charcoal grey” because we all know how hot he was in that scene. Thank you to @angelfxllcm for being an absolute godsend as I wrote this and being the most supportive friend ever. (If you haven’t read her work, you absolutely should!)

“Fucking FBI and their selfish ass schedules,” you grumbled as you hurried through the hallway of the courthouse, your intern Robin on on your heels. “Court gets pushed back for a week because Agent Hotchner just had to leave with them on a case instead of working remotely, and then expects us to drop everything to go to court the second he gets back to D.C. As if we don’t have jobs too. As if I don’t have six other cases sitting on my desk that now have to be pushed back because of him.”

 Robin scrambled behind you, nodding along to every word that left your mouth. “Does this happen with the, uh…”

  “BAU,” you supplied.

  “—BAU, right. Do court cases usually get pushed back for them?”

  You shook your head as you checked your watch. A glint caught the corner of your eye. Shit, your ring. You hadn’t expected to go to court, and completely forgot to leave it at home. You pulled it off and slipped it into the outside pocket of your bag, hoping nobody noticed.

“No. Most cases from the BAU never go to court,” you explained. “There’s enough evidence against the people they arrest that it’s almost always a plea.”

  The Bankers Box in Robin’s hands almost slipped as you placed another file precariously on top of it. “Then why is this case going to court?”

  Your step faltered as you processed her question, and you couldn’t hide the disbelief on your face. “You did read the brief for this case, right?” you asked, unsure if you really wanted the answer, except her embarrassed blush and averted gaze gave you enough of one. “Seriously? Okay, well, first of all, because of that, you won’t be sitting at the attorney’s table with us. Instead you’ll be in the public seating. I won’t weaken my case because you decided to be unprepared. If this happens again, you won’t be welcome to join me in court at all, am I clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.” Deciding to take pity on the poor intern, you sighed as you started your explanation. “Our client claims that his arrest was unlawful and therefore none of the evidence they found should be usable. I’m inclined to agree with him, so we’re fighting all of the charges that were made with evidence found after the arrest.”

  “So you don’t think he’s guilty?”

  “I don’t ask that question. I’m not God and I’m not his priest, I don’t need to hear his confession. I just need to get him out of unjust and illegal charges.”

  Robin’s eyebrows furrowed. “So he’s going to walk free? Even after everything he did? How do you sleep at night?”

  Fucking Christ, how did this girl even get into law school? You rolled your eyes, suddenly regretting your decision to take on an intern. “No, he’s not going to walk free. He’s going to get a lesser charge, because everything else was obtained illegally. And I sleep very well, actually, because my job isn’t some episode of Law & Order. Less than 10% of my cases ever go to trial. I’m not here to suddenly convince juries that the evidence is wrong. My job is making sure that everybody is given their constitutional rights, that the police are doing their jobs correctly, and that the State isn’t over-punishing. Any cop knows that, and if you ever come across one that doesn’t, you know that you should look into those cases even further. You have to realize, criminal defense lawyers—”

  “— are the last line of protection against a corrupt system.” You turned to see your assistant, Marcus, making his way towards you, briefcase and your spare blazer that you keep in the office in hand. “I see you’re giving her your famous anti-prosecutor lecture.”

  Marcus helped you slip on your blazer over your satin button up, his hands lingering on your skin for just a little too long to be considered professional, and it made you shiver in anticipation. “God knows she needs it. Thank you, Marcus, for bringing these so quickly. Were you able to get the physical copies of Agent Hotchner’s files?”

  Marcus held up his briefcase. “All right here. Although I have to say, I’m a little lost as to why you need his service records.”

  The three of you turned the corner to enter the courtroom, your heels clicking on the tiled floor. Robin obediently took her seat in the public viewing area while you and Marcus pushed through the swinging door to settle at your table. “I’ve heard stories of Agent Hotchner’s testimonies. He used to be a prosecutor, so he’s not easily tricked, but he is prideful and will defend his work. I’m going to use that to my advantage. It’s like I always say, practicing law means always playing chess, never checkers.”

  Marcus took the seat next to you, making sure to sit close enough that his knee brushed yours the whole time. “You know, I was thinking, this case is complicated,” he whispered, “And we haven’t combed through everything yet… It could take more time than we planned.”

  You smirked, knowing exactly what he was insinuating. “Agreed. I’ll tell Tony I have to stay late at the office tonight.”

  Before Marcus could continue his flirting, you were distracted by the door to the judge’s chamber opening, revealing the back of a man in a black suit. “Thank you again, your honor, for the continuance,” came the deep timbre of the man, and oh. You certainly weren’t expecting that. “A young girl was able to be reunited with her family this week because of it.”

  The man in the doorway turned, and your breath caught in your throat. He was tall and buff and expensive-looking and absolutely gorgeous. His suit was tailored to fit him perfectly, the sleeves of his blazer straining against his biceps. He carried himself with an aura of confidence, like he belonged in the courtroom, and he was making his way directly towards you. Unconsciously, you separated from Marcus, putting as much distance between you and your assistant as possible without raising suspicion.

  The man said something to the prosecution before turning to you, hand outstretched. He said your name as a greeting, and your name had never sounded so good. “I’m Aaron Hotchner.”

  When you stood up to shake his hand, you tried to ignore the way his eyes raked down your body, or the way the two of you held on just a moment too long to be considered proper. It felt as if he was looking right through you, learning all of your secrets as though they were written on your body. No, you knew that look. He was studying you. “Agent Hotchner, it’s a pleasure.”

  “Likewise, Counselor. Please, call me Aaron.”

  You raised your eyebrows in Aaron’s direction, still shaking his hand, and it made your skin burn. You dropped his hand. “I’m just glad we’re able to get this case done and over with. Hopefully with no more delays.”

  His eyebrows quirked upwards in what could only be described as shock. “I see your reputation precedes you,” was his only reply before going to his respective seat, and if he noticed you watching his every move, he made no indication of it. That being said, you definitely felt his gaze on the back of your head as the judge entered the room and the session began.

  As the proceedings dragged on, you and Marcus continued to talk strategy, his hand finding its way to your thigh ever so often. You also continued negotiating with the prosecutor, both of you flashing Post-It notes of potential plea deals that you would be willing to accept, always careful to keep it out of the eyes of the judge and jury. By the time Aaron had been called to the stand, the offer given to you still wasn’t low enough. Fine, if the prosecution wanted to make a fool of themselves, so be it.

  You listened to Aaron’s testimony with the prosecution, completely enraptured. There was something about the way he spoke, so full of authority and confidence, that made the entire room drawn to him. He was incredibly intelligent, that much was clear, and despite the many years since he had actually practiced law, that prosecutor candor hadn’t left him. Staying focused on the case had proven to be more difficult than previously expected. You found yourself staring at his lips, and it didn’t take long for your mind to conjure up some obscene and explicit situations starring the man in front of you. 

  Eventually, his eyes caught yours, and he watched you, his lips — god, those lips — quirked up in a smirk. Aaron watched you expectantly, and in the light of the courtroom, his eyes were almost the color of whiskey, and you wanted nothing more than to drink it all in.

  A sharp “Counselor” broke you out of your trance. In the corner of your eye, you could see Marcus looking at you in concern, but he was the furthest thing from your mind now, especially as Aaron let out an amused huff of air.

  “Counselor, does the prosecution wish to cross-examine the witness?” the judge asked with barely hidden annoyance, making you think that it probably wasn’t the first time she had asked the question.

  You stood up quickly, smoothing down your pencil skirt as you did. “Yes, your honor. Thank you,” you said, trying your best to keep your voice steady as you noticed Aaron’s eyes trailing down your bare legs.

  The cross-examination started normally, and Aaron answered all of your questions with careful precision that only a lawyer could pull off. He seemed to know exactly where you were trying to go with your questions, and easily sidestepped any unflattering implication you were trying to make. Long, biased questions were met with short, clipped answers, not giving you anything to work with. Whatever move you made, Aaron was right there, two steps ahead with you. Never in your life had you met somebody who could follow you so easily or could match your wit without so much breaking a sweat.

  It was exhilarating.

  “Agent Hotchner,” you started, hands clasped behind your back. “Could you please explain to the court how profiles are used when finding and apprehending suspects?”

  Aaron sat up a little taller in the witness box. “Using behavioral research and past case studies, we’re able to construct what we call a profile of the perpetrator, or unsub. Anything they do can give us insights as to who they are — their victims, what weapons they use, even how they dispose of the bodies. Once we have a profile of who we believe is committing these crimes, we have our technical analyst run the parameters through her system. From there, narrowing down our search is easy.”

  You nodded slowly, pretending to mull over what he was saying. “For clarification’s sake, in layman’s terms, you build your profile off of assumed psychology, and not concrete evidence, is that correct?”

  The muscles in Aaron’s jaw flexed, a sure sign he was gritting his teeth. “Behavior analysis is a tool, just like any other—”

  “It’s a yes or no question, Agent,” you interrupted, and oh, he was not happy about that.

  His tongue darted out from between his lips. “The research we use for behavior is—”

  “Yes. Or no.”

  Aaron hesitated, his frustration building up to palpable tension that settled in the courtroom like a thick fog. You weren’t giving him a chance to explain or show off anymore, didn’t allow him to be seen as the smartest person in the room anymore, and that was getting to him.

  “Yes,” he conceded, grimacing as if admitting that was physically painful for him.

  “Thank you,” you replied, and he caught the unspoken that wasn’t so hard now, was it? even if the rest of the room did not. You walked back over to your table, snatching up a piece of paper and holding it in the air. “Your honor, the defense would like to submit Exhibit Seven into evidence.”

  Once the judge gave her express permission, you placed the form in front of Aaron with your left hand, perfectly manicured fingers splayed out in front of his eyes. You almost missed the way his head tilted ever so slightly and his eyes narrowed, like he was staring at a puzzle half complete. “Agent, could you please tell us what’s laying in front of you now.”

  He leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning the paper before meeting back with yours. “This is a part of our official report of the case. Specifically, it has the profile that was used to lead us to the apprehension of Mr. Mckenna.”

  “Does it say on that paper who had the final sign off on the profile before it was circulated?”

  “Yes, that would be me. As Unit Chief, my job is to sign and finalize any reports.”

  “And could you please read the profile, verbatim, as written on that report?”

  Aaron’s face remained neutral, with the exception of his eyebrows scrunching together. Slowly, he had started to piece together your strategy, and he didn’t like it. “The unsub is a white male, between 32 and 40 years old. He’ll most likely be unemployed and driving a van or truck — anything that would let him easily transport his equipment and victims. We believe that he’s also had run-ins with the law before, likely as a juvenile. He’ll come across as friendly, if not a little shy. We believe that this comes from a failed relationship in his past, one where he believes that he was manipulated and wronged, and now he’s going after surrogates for that woman. Killing these women is the only thing that gives him any sort of power. If we can figure out who this past relationship was, it will lead us directly to the killer.”

  You paced back and forth in front of the witness stand, your skirt tightening around your legs with every step you took. “Between 32 and 40 years old, unemployed, and killing surrogates… Except Mr. Mckenna is 22 and works part time as a bartender. How do you justify arresting my client with those inconsistencies?”

  “As I mentioned before,” Aaron started, his voice dangerously low, “A profile is just one tool we use of many. Not every single part of the profile will fit every single time. Which is why we also rely on outside evidence to ensure that we have the best chance at catching the unknown subject as quickly as possible.”

  “Except you had no concrete evidence, which you admit in your own report!” You took two steps closer to him, getting as in his face as possible without risking being held in contempt. With every word that left your mouth, your voice got more and more forceful, and you got more and more under Aaron’s skin.

  “All of it was circumstantial at best. You had a hunch, an inherent bias against my client due to his previous conviction record, and you were frustrated at your own inability to get a good lead. But you can’t arrest somebody on a hunch, or because you’re angry. You had no evidence and the man you arrested didn’t even match the profile that you came up with!”

  Your eyes locked with Aaron, his gaze heavy, and neither of you dared look away first. “Objection!” came from the prosecutor behind you. Exactly what you wanted. “Argumentative and foundation.” You flashed Aaron a predatory grin.

  Two moves to checkmate.

  “Sustained,” said the judge.

  “Withdrawn.” You tapped the witness bench, hoping to convey an air of aloofness and calm. Aaron scowled. “Agent Hotchner, before joining the FBI, you were a prosecutor, is that true?”

  Confusion flashed across his face for the briefest of moments, and it gave you a twisted sense of satisfaction to know that you had the upper hand. You knew the answer to every question you were about to ask, and he knew that. He just couldn’t figure out where you were going with this line of questioning, or what the relevance even was. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  You made a soft hum of approval. “Could you please walk us through your higher education?”

  “I attended George Washington University for both my undergraduate and law degree.”

  “What did you major in for your undergrad?”

  Aaron hesitated. “Political Science.”

  Check. “So all together, you’ve had about seven years in higher education. In that time, how many psychology classes did you take?”

  It was almost sadistic, the way you relished in the slight twitch of his face — the realization that he had been backed into a corner. The silence was deafening as Aaron’s scowl met your smug grin.

  “None,” Aaron said finally.

  “None,” you repeated, performative shock dripping from your words. “Do you have any academic background in psychology or human behavior, then?”

  Aaron’s jaw clenched, and as you made your way closer to the witness stand, you saw his thumb frantically moving back and forth over his fingertips. Clearly, you had struck a nerve. “The FBI has rigorous coursework in order to become a profiler, along with multiple exams and continued training as more research becomes available to us. The profiling classes are no easy feat and are written by experts in the field. Creating profiles has a long and respected history in detective work, and these profilers have caught some of the most prolific serial killers of all time.”

  You placed a hand over your chest in faux modesty. “My apologies, Agent Hotchner, I believe I wasn’t very clear. I’m not calling into question the validity and effectiveness of profiles. I’m calling into question the validity and effectiveness of you as a profiler.”

  You could practically see the cartoon fire spewing out of Aaron’s ears. He was so close to being in your trap, something he had to have known, too, yet he continued to toe dangerously close to that line.

  “A lack of formal education in profiling,” you continued, keeping your voice light, “and the blatant disregard for basic police and legal procedure as shown in this case with my client… I mean, how many other mistakes were made in your past cases? It’s hard to believe that you can read anybody, much less the hardened criminal that you have painted my client to be.”

  Checkmate.

  “Objection!” cried the prosecutor again. “Your Honor, this is —”

  He was cut off by the judge raising her hand. “Sustained. Counselor, I would advise you to tread lightly from here on out.”

  You raised your hands in mock surrender. “Withdrawn.” You turned around to make your way back to your table, ignoring Marcus’s look of complete disbelief. Baiting Aaron had been easy, and now all you had to do was wait.

  The courtroom was uncomfortably silent for one beat… two beats…

  “Not only can I read Mr. Mckenna,” echoed Aaron’s voice, “But I can also read you.”

  Once you got back to your desk, you turned around, hands resting on the cool wood of the table top, but you never sat down. Instead, you leaned forward, and arched your eyebrows in a silent challenge — one he was all too eager to pursue.

  “The red Harvard Law tag on your briefcase is a perfect match to your lipstick, and you wear the same one every time you go to court. Not because you’re superstitious the way most lawyers are, but because it’s your way of maintaining control in the courtroom, something you’re desperate to keep in every aspect of your life, personal and professional. I would guess that this need goes back to late high school, early college. But you’ve been worried about appearances and how you’re perceived for even longer than that.”

  You fought the urge to roll your eyes. So he thought you were Type A? Anybody could have guessed that by your anything. All they would have to do is look at your color coded case files or your daily schedule, planned down to the minute. You had only been trying to sway the jury when you insinuated that he wasn’t a good profiler, but maybe you were actually starting to believe it yourself.

  Except Aaron got a dangerous glint in his eye, causing your stomach to bubble with anxiety. Clearly, he was playing chess, too, and by the looks of it, he believed he was winning. 

  “In fact, you’re so worried about losing control, that despite your busy schedule, you refuse to hire a planner for your upcoming wedding.”

  That got your attention. The objection that you were about to call died on your lips, and all you could do was stare with poorly hidden shock. Next to you, Marcus turned pale as a ghost.

  Aaron, cocky bastard, continued his profile of you, with no clear signs of stopping anytime soon. “You have a tan where your ring usually is, and I know you’ve been wearing it recently as you subconsciously fiddle with where it would be whenever things in court aren’t going your way. Just like you’re doing now. You still have your maiden name, which you plan on giving up when you do get married because not taking his last name would arouse too many questions that you want to avoid. Just another way your concern of appearances is manifested. So you’re engaged.

  “I would say congratulations, but it’s not a happy relationship, not on your side, anyway. Younger female professionals will take their rings off in fear of not being taken seriously, but you’re an established and respected lawyer. You needn't worry about that. So if it’s not about you, it’s about the fiance. You don’t want to be associated with him.”

  You gripped the edge of the table, too angry to form words. Your nails dug into the varnish, and you were sure that your heavy breathing could be heard from across the room. This dick. This absolute, garbage, piece of shit dick. The worst part was how casual he sounded as he aired all of your dirty laundry for everybody to hear.

  “He’s holding you back, in all aspects of life, but mostly intellectually. He doesn’t have a sliver of your capabilities. The two of you are probably high school sweethearts, prom king and queen type, but while you grew up and matured, he never did. He can’t keep up with you. Still acts the same way he did in high school, only now with more access to alcohol and money. Career wise, he doesn’t have much going for him, probably some sports related pipe dream. But you stay with him because you know how to control him and how to use him to your advantage.”

  Aaron’s eyes zeroed in on Marcus, and all of the color drained from your face. The voice in the back of your mind was screaming at you to object, to get the judge involved, anything, before Aaron did any more damage, but you were frozen in your spot. For the first time in your life, you were completely and utterly speechless and spiraling out of control.

  “That need for control is also why you’re sleeping with your assistant. It’s casual for you, but not for him anymore. You should break that off. That’s nothing new for you, though. In fact, I would bet that if we looked back at all of your affairs since your engagement, we’d find a long string of men and women, all of whom are your subordinates or of lower status than you. It’s a win-win situation — they’re more than eager to have a chance with you, and you get to stay in control. Oh, you’ll stop when you actually get married, but you continue to push that date back, as well. So…”

  He leaned back in his chair, clearly feeling good about himself, and God, you could kill him. You could reach over the witness box and wrap your hands around his throat and squeeze until his whiskey colored eyes popped out of his smug, beautiful face.

  Aaron lifted his chin, eyebrows raised in your direction. “Do you believe in my abilities as a profiler now, Counselor?”

  That snapped you back into action. You cleared your throat and unnecessarily smoothed down your skirt in an attempt to regroup your thoughts. “Well, Agent Hotchner, thank you for that little show and tell. It’s clear that you are very passionate about your career. However, just like your profile of my client, you have no evidence for any of your unsubstantiated accusations.”

  It was a pathetic attempt at saving face, and Aaron knew it, but it had to be enough for you. You turned your back towards Aaron so that you could face the judge, who, to her credit, had a perfect poker face the whole time. “Your Honor, I move to strike Agent Hotchner’s outburst” — not an outburst, Aaron was too composed to ever have one of those, but he grimaced at the word all the same — “from the record, as no question stands before the witness at this time.”

  The judge looked at you dubiously, clearly debating her ruling. There shouldn’t have been any reason to worry, you were legally in the right, but there was always the chance that she wouldn’t be on your side. You noticed yourself fiddling with where your engagement ring would usually be, and you cursed yourself under your breath. How could Aaron have possibly known all of that?

  “Sustained,” she said finally, “I direct the jury to disregard the witness’s, uh, example when considering the evidence.”

  You let out a breath of relief. It wasn’t much of a win — everybody still heard what had happened, it was still in the back of their minds, like the ring of a bell echoing — but at least in regards to the case, you had the legal upper hand.

  The judge turned back to you. “Defense, the witness is still yours, if you have any further questions.”

  If you were a little more in your right mind, you would have cut your losses, but between your oath to defend your client to the best of your ability and that stupid self assured grin on Aaron’s face, you knew that you really had no choice.

  Deep breath in… Slow breath out… You’re at a stalemate now.

  “Agent Hotchner,” you said, causing him to perk him up in interest. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting you to continue. “Wouldn’t an ex-lawyer and an FBI agent be familiar with the rules of decorum in a courtroom?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I understand your question, Counselor.”

  “Let me rephrase, then. Would you say that you have a history of emotional outbursts and rule breaking in your line of work? And I’ll remind you that you are still under oath.”

  Aaron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “No, I wouldn’t. Integrity is one of our core values, and we take that very seriously.”

  With shaking hands, Marcus handed you one of the files you’d had him print out on Aaron. “If that’s so, can you explain why, since your promotion to Unit Chief in 2005, you and your team have had seven disciplinary hearings, one of which being an internal investigation into the excessive force used by one of your agents, and another being a congressional hearing?”

  A sick sense of satisfaction passed over you when you saw him get visibly shocked, his poker face breaking for the first time that day. If he wanted to go for blood, you could fight back twice as hard. “I’m not at liberty to discuss either of those cases.”

  You shrugged nonchalantly. “Very well, Agent. So between the discrepancies in the profile, your inability to control your temper, and your history of breaking procedure, coupled with the fact that you arrested my client without any warrant by kicking in the door to an innocent civilian’s house, do you really believe that your arrest and the subsequent evidence that came from that arrest was obtained legally? Or do you just not care either way, as long as you’re able to prove that you’re right?”

  Right as he opened his mouth to speak, you turned your back on him and started to walk back to your table. Aaron wasn’t even able to get a peep out before you cut him off with a sharp “Question withdrawn. At this time, the defense rests.”

  “Our arrest was made on the grounds of—” Aaron tried, and you smirked to yourself. He must have been desperate if he was trying that move twice. You whipped around, gaze steeled.

  “I have no further questions, Agent Hotchner,” you repeated, only letting out the slightest hint of amusement. “But thank you for your cooperation with Lady Justice today.”

  Aaron’s eyes met yours, and a weight settled in the pit of your stomach. You should have hated him, but something about him had you completely and utterly entranced by him. Maybe it was the novelty of the case. Maybe it was the matching intellects and the fact that he was the only other person who could give you a challenge.

  Maybe you just liked the way you got to lose control with him.

  As he passed you, his arm brushed yours, and your whole body burned.

  “Very cute, Counselor,” he whispered, voice dripping with condescension. “How long did it take you to come up with that little switch up?”

  “Don’t patronize me,” you snapped. “I was playing chess, you were playing checkers, and that’s why you lost.”

  The rest of the session went on normally, if not a little tense. To your surprise, Aaron hadn’t left immediately after his testimony, and instead took a seat in the section for the public. Good. As soon as courtroom decorum wasn’t a factor, you were sure to give him a piece of your mind.

  Court adjourned for the day, and you couldn’t get out of there fast enough. You told Marcus to continue to push for a better plea option as you grabbed your briefcase and stormed out, pushing through the throngs of people until you could see the back of Aaron’s head.

  You sped up your steps until you were right behind him, and you grabbed his wrist to stop him in his tracks. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

  You pulled Aaron into an empty conference room, hoping to get some privacy before you completely blew your lid. You already had one public humiliation because of him, and you did not need another.

  “What is your problem?” you hissed, locking the door behind you. “You had no right to put my personal life on blast like that.”

  Aaron placed his hands on his hips, swooping the sides of his suit jacket back, and you had to make a very conscious effort to not stare. “You questioned my profiling abilities, and I proved them.”

  “You didn’t prove shit,” you argued, folding your arms across your chest. “Except for the fact that you’re an insufferable bastard.”

  “Are you saying that my profile was off? Because if you didn’t want to be caught committing adultery, then you shouldn’t have made it so obvious.”

  You gritted your teeth and took a step towards him in a futile attempt to come across as intimidating. Even in your heels, he still seemed to be towering over you. You’d have to level the playing field somehow. You gripped his tie and used it to pull him down so that he was closer to eye level with you. “I don’t need your judgment, Aaron.”

  Aaron moved closer to you, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His Adam's apple bobbed and it captivated you. “I couldn’t care less about what you do,” he said flippantly. “Matter of fact, I don’t think this fit of anger is even inherently about your little secret coming out. Do you want to know what I think it is?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I think,” he continued, completely ignoring your protest, “You’re angry because as much as you can dish it out, you can’t take it.”

  Your grip on his tie tightened at his words. “Trust me, I can take anything,” you said, voice low and breathy.

  Aaron’s eyes flickered to your lips — those kissable, red stained lips of yours. You hadn’t had to reapply your lipstick once throughout the day, and he idly wondered just exactly what it would take to muss up that perfect, pouty red lip. 

  “I also think that for the first time in a very long time, you didn’t have control, and you liked it.” He bent down a little bit more so that his lips brushed against your ear with every word and you could feel his breath run down your spine. “Aren’t you bored of sleeping with boys who are so far beneath you?”

  You’re not sure who initiated it, but the next thing you knew, your lips crashed against his, the two of you making out like it was the last kiss either of you were ever going to get. His hands felt impossibly everywhere all at once — gripping your hips, tugging at your hair, and even snaking under your work blouse to palm at your breast. His teeth nipped at the fibres of your lips. With every movement of his hands, little gasps escaped you, and you could feel the curve of his lips curling up into a smirk.

  His fingers trailed up the side of your body, past the curve of your neck, and tangled themselves in your hair before yanking it back, exposing the column of your throat. Immediately he attached his lips to your neck, nipping at your pulse point.

  “Aaron,” you whined, trying to regain the breath he stole from your lungs. You practically melted in his arms, going completely weak at the knees, especially as his tongue trailed across the underside of your jaw. You let his tie fall from your grip, instead bringing your hands up to cup his face to pull him in for another kiss. 

  His lips set a bruising pace, and it caused a fire to burn in the pit of your stomach. You had never once been kissed like this, never once felt so all-consumed by a person. Aaron’s cologne surrounded you, making your head spin. Bruises were sure to form from how harshly he was gripping your hips, but you didn’t care. He was addicting, and you wanted more.

  Hotch walked you backwards until you were pressed up against the wall, his thigh shoved in between your legs, forcing your skirt to ride up. The position made his arousal obvious as he pressed against you. The way he held you was possessive, primal even, Unconsciously, you ground down on his thigh, hoping for anything to help relieve the ache between your legs. 

  Unfortunately for you, Aaron caught on to what you were trying to do, and he chuckled against your lips before pulling away just far enough to speak. “Look at you,” he whispered, and the raspiness of his voice only served to turn you on even more. He hooked a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him, and his thumb traced your bottom lip, tugging at it ever so slightly. His other hand slowly trailed its way up your thigh, nails scratching at your skin. “Skirt hiked up around your waist, desperate to get off. Your little boyfriends aren’t doing it for you anymore?”

  He pressed his thigh further into you, ripping an involuntary moan from your throat. “Fuck,” you gasped, your hips still moving back and forth against him, not caring how needy it made you seem. “I need… I…”

  “What? Big, bad lawyer doesn’t have any more smart ass comments?” he cooed sarcastically, pushing your skirt up even higher. He replaced his thigh with his hand, and his fingers ghosted over your covered pussy, teasing you, not giving you nearly enough contact. “Fuck, you’re so wet already. Go ahead, needy girl, if you’re that desperate.” Aaron yanked down your panties in one fell swoop, and you blindly kicked them off to the side. “Be a good girl and show me how much you want this.”

  Without any more of a warning, one of his fingers entered you, and you let out a breathy moan that Aaron was sure to have on repeat in his mind for days to come. When the heel of his palm pressed against your clit, your brain completely short circuited. You threw your head back as far as you could despite being pressed against the wall as his name clumsily tumbled from your lips like a prayer.

  “You’re so fucking tight,” he grunted, pressing you further against the wall. “Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

  Electricity coursed through your veins as he added a second finger, easily finding that spot in you that made you see stars. You rocked your hips back and forth against his hand, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. His lips trailed from your jawline, down your neck, and to your collarbone. 

  “Look at me,” Aaron ordered, tightening his grip on your chin, and your eyes shot right back open. Instead of the whiskey colored irises you had gotten used to, Aaron’s pupils were so blown that they made his eyes completely black. “I want to see you lose control all over me. Gonna make sure you come harder for me than you have for any of your boy toys.”

  That wouldn’t be very difficult. Nobody had ever made you feel the way you did then, Aaron’s fingers buried deep in your cunt and lips exploring every inch of skin he could access. No part of this was for his pleasure — from the curl of his fingers to the slow circles on your clit, it was all expertly calculated to bring you to the edge with as much intensity as possible, and it was all devastatingly effective.

  “I’m so close,” you whimpered, and if it weren’t for the wall behind you, you would have completely lost your balance. “More, fuck, please.”

  “More?” he mumbled against the column of your throat. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

  Coherent sentences were not an option for you at the moment, not when you were so deliciously overwhelmed with pleasure and with Aaron. Besides, how could you tell him that you wanted him to completely and utterly ruin you? That you wanted him to bend you over the conference table and pound into you until you could barely speak. You wanted Aaron to mark you and send you home to your fiance with reminders of every little thing he did to you for the days to come. You wanted raw and untamed passion. You wanted to be consumed, for him to settle in your lungs like smoke, and haunt your dreams for the rest of your life. 

  You didn’t want nice and calculated the way every other man you’d been with had acted — you wanted Aaron Hotchner to take control.

  You couldn't say any of that, so instead, you grabbed his wrist, the one that was holding your chin in place and, without breaking eye contact with him, you guided his hand down until it rested on your throat. “More,” you choked out, giving him an animalistic grin.

  That was all it took. Using his grip on your neck, he pulled you in for another kiss, messy and desperate and swallowing all of your incoherent moans as his fingers moved harder, faster.

  You clung to him like a lifeline as you felt your whole body tense up, your orgasm fast approaching. You were so fucking close and he felt so fucking good and, God, if this is what losing control felt like, then you and Aaron could do this forever and —

  His fingers were gone from you, and you clenched around nothing. You cried out in protest, which only seemed to amuse him.

  “Oh? Prom queen isn’t used to not getting what she wants?” Keeping his hand on your throat and you pinned against the wall, he made slow, teasing work of his belt buckle.

  Your chest rose and fell in a desperate attempt to catch your breath. “What happened to watching me come undone all over you?” you shot, trying to even out your voice as much as possible. It didn’t work very well. “Did you lose your nerve?”

   A dark, humorless chuckle escaped his lips. “Don’t worry, Princess, that’s still the plan. I just never said where. I want to make sure you’re nice and wet and ready for me to turn you into a moaning mess on my cock.”

  In an attempt to regain some control of the situation, you rolled your eyes. “Yeah? And how do you expect to do that?”

  He smirked and released your throat. Wordlessly, he grabbed your wrist, and guided your hand down your body, further and further until you reached your throbbing pussy. He used his hands to press your fingers to your clit, and you whimpered softly. God, you were dripping, and the extra stimulation didn’t help your shaking legs.

  “By making you so needy and whiny that by the end of this, you're begging for me,” he hissed, lips brushing the shell of your ear with every word. He moved your fingers so that you were rubbing small, slow circles around your clit, although it wasn’t nearly enough to give any real relief. “Begging for me to come and fuck you over and over and over again. Because you know that your pathetic fiance and your string of affairs have never made you feel like this before.”

  Aaron yanked your hand away from your clit and you could sob. You wanted to cum so badly that you could barely put it into words. Still holding your wrist, Aaron brought your hand up to his face. He took a brief moment to admire the way your fingers glistened, covered in your arousal, before bringing them to his lips and sucking.

  Eyes wide, you made a choked noise as you committed the view of Aaron to memory. “Please, Aaron, fuck, I need you,” you whined, the start of a long string of incoherent begging. You needed him then and there, damn the consequences.

  He pulled your fingers out of his mouth slowly, and you moaned at the obscene wet noise it made. “So desperate,” he murmured as he began to unbutton his slacks. “All for me. All because I edged you once.”

  Aaron pulled down his pants just enough to pull out his dick, and you licked your lips involuntarily when you saw it, big and thick and leaking precum. Clearly, it gave Aaron a bit of an ego boost, because as he ran the head up and down your sensitive folds, he reminded you, “You did say you could take anything, Princess.”

  Your breathing came out shaking as you shivered, waiting for him to do something — anything. You were so empty and you needed him so badly. If you didn’t get his dick in you soon, you were pretty sure you would lose your mind completely.

  “Fuck me, Aaron,” you moaned, arching your back to press into him more.

  He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips in an almost intimate gesture. “Patience is a virtue,” he chastised.

  In your haze of arousal, you barely noticed him grabbing your briefcase and digging through the small pocket in the front. You especially didn’t notice his pause when his finger touched something small, round, and metal in the bottom of the bag. The only thing you cared about was him coming back to you, holding up a condom packet with a smirk.

  “I knew I’d find one somewhere in your briefcase.” You let the comment slide, the excitement at the prospect of sex with Aaron Hotchner outweighing any jackass comment he could make. Aaron made quick work of putting on the condom. The second he was done, one of his hands ran up your thigh, getting a good grip on it before pulling it up and around his waist.

  “Do you feel how wet you are for me? How willing you were to give up control? All for me? That—” Lips pressed to your ear, he pushed his cock into you, bottoming out with one thrust. You threw your head back in pleasure. “—Is playing chess, sweetheart.”

  Aaron dropped his forehead to the crook of your neck as he began pounding into you at a desperate pace. He had held off on his own pleasure for long enough, and now he was chasing his orgasm with a ruthless determination. One hand stayed gripping your thigh, the other one braced against the wall next to your head. Aaron nipped at your neck in between moans of praise for you.

  “I — oh, fuck — knew it,” he groaned, digging his fingers deeper into your thigh. “You wanted somebody to take control. Somebody who knows how to please you.”

  You wrapped your arms around his neck and tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you. You were an incoherent mess at this point, his name tumbling from your lips like it was the only thing you knew how to say. At that moment, it probably was. 

  “Finally, that bratty mouth of yours is good for something. You sound so pretty, moaning out my name. Say it again.” A particularly deep thrust caused you to tug at his hair. “Louder.”

  Never before had you met somebody like Aaron Hotchner, and you weren’t sure if you ever would again, so you screwed your eyes shut and let yourself get lost in the absolute pleasure he was providing. You memorized everything you could — the way the calluses on his hands felt against your skin, the way he moaned out your name, how deliciously full you felt, and how for the first time in your life you felt truly seen — so that you could suspend the moment in amber to preserve in the back of your mind.

  “Please,” you begged, scratching his scalp lightly with your nails. “I’m so close. Fuck, Aaron, you feel so good, please.”

  Aaron tore his lips from your throat, choosing instead to press his forehead against yours. His lips brushed yours with every word he spoke, so close that you were practically kissing him. “That’s it, princess,” he murmured. “Be a good girl. Be a good girl and come. All over my dick.”

  When you came, it was with a cry of his name as your whole body shuddered. You clung to him as he continued to fuck you. His thrusts began to stutter, and he took the opportunity to capture your lips in one last, scorching kiss, and you were all too happy to oblige.

  You think he moaned something as he came, but you couldn’t hear it over the sounds of skin slapping against skin. He fucked you through his orgasm, making sure that you felt every single inch of him. As if you could ever forget it. 

  The two of you stayed where you were for a few moments, relishing in the feeling of being full a little longer. Your walls fluttered around Aaron, which caused him to muffle his whimpers into your throat.

  “Aaron…” you whispered, not wanting to disturb the moment. “That was so—”

  “I know.”

  “We shouldn’t have done it.”

  “I know.” He pulled back just enough to leave a lingering kiss on your lips, and your whole body burned. “But I don’t regret it. Do you?”

  You shook your head. “Not at all.” The confession lingered in the hair for a tense second because both of you seemed to remember where you were.

  Aaron slowly pulled out of you, an act that looked almost painful for him when you let out an involuntary moan at the feeling. He could have spent all day in you, if given the chance.

  The two of you adjusted yourselves in silence, both of you hoping to be able to leave the room with some semblance of professionalism. At the very least, the goal was to not look like you had just had sex in a courthouse conference room. Shame and embarrassment flooded you — what had you been thinking?

  Once you felt that you were presentable enough, you grabbed your briefcase and tried to ignore Aaron burning a hole in the back of your head with his gaze.

  “Well, Aaron, this was fun.” You cleared your throat. “I’m sure we’ll see each other around at some point.”

  You were two steps away from the door when you heard his smug, courthouse voice come back in full swing.

  “Forgetting something?”

  You turned around in a huff, ready to go right back to arguing with him, but what you saw made your whole body heat up in embarrassment. There was Aaron with a self-satisfied grin and dangling off his finger was your panties.

  “These are cute,” he mused. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to fully appreciate them.”

  You rushed over there, fully prepared to snatch them out of his hand. “And you never will,” you shot, but even as you said it, you didn’t make much of an effort to take them out of his hands. You just stared at him and his swollen lips and mussed hair, all your doing.

  Ever the gentleman, Aaron started to hand your underwear back to you, but instead of taking it back like you knew you should have done, you covered his hand with yours, closing it in a fist around your panties.

  “Who says you can’t?” you whispered, guiding his pantie-filled hand down to his pockets. “This way… You can keep it as collateral. To make sure I’ll come and see you again.”

  His breath hitched in his throat as you guided him to put your panties into his suit pocket, and you were glad to be the one surprising him this time.

  “I don’t care about your fiance,” Aaron started, and you braced yourself for the worse. “But I’m not interested in being the ‘other man’ to your affairs with your assistants, too.”

  “Consider it ended,” you promised, not caring how desperate or easy it made you look. You wanted to keep Aaron around for a long, long time.

  Just until the wedding, you corrected yourself.

  You slung your briefcase over your shoulder, wincing as it dug into a bruise that Aaron had left. It would be there for a while — you’d have to find a way to hide it from Tony until it faded. The thought made you stupidly giddy. “I’ll see you around, Aaron.”

  He nodded in goodbye, and you slipped out of the conference room on shaking legs. As soon as the door closed behind you, you reached into your bag, and reluctantly slipped on your engagement ring.

[ickymichi]

𝐨𝐡 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫!

𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

<3 summary: you didn’t know you were failing that badly for him to make you stay back. but you weren’t complaining when he brought you to his office and locked the door.

<3 word count: 3.5k

<3 warnings: nsfw, swearing, soft levi and fluff at then end cause we love soft levi in this house.

<3 nsfw warnings: age gap(reader is of age), degradation, spanking, hair pulling, male oral reciving.

<3 note: this was requested by @jahanaraaaa and i just had to write it straight away cause it sent me into my monthly levi brianrot. tysm for the request & wait my dear i loved it so so much.<//3 but if you enjoyed please like n’ reblog, it’s greatly appreciated!

all contents belongs to fckyaeger 2021. please do not repost/modify on this or any other platform.

The noise of his expensive dress shoes clicking as he moved across and black the laminate floor and his deep monotone voice was slowly putting you and others to sleep. But you had to fight it because you didn’t fancy getting an earful from your professor Mr. Ackerman. Well maybe you would, it’s no lie he’s extremely attractive and you’ve always had an attraction to men older than you. His bare ring finger gave you evidence that he probably wasn’t seeing anyone so it didn’t make you feel guilty about your not so little crush on the man.

“that’s it for today then, and don’t forget the assignment this time. Looking at you yeager.” His deep voice shook you from your daydream and the class was already over. ‘perfect this was the last one! Get me to be-’ “(y/n) stay back, I need a word”. Huh? Did he notice you falling in and out of sleep? we’re you failing his class? Well probably he always gave such difficult class test every week. But was it bad enough for him to make you stay behind?

Packing up your things you made your way down the small steps to where he leant against his wood desk. “you wanted to talk to me sir?”. You spoke with you arms folded, quite frankly annoyed he ruined your plans to sleep for the rest of the day- but also intrigued in what he wanted. you lifted your gaze from checking the time on your phone to his face when you didn’t get an answer. The action was a mistake because you were met with his steel silver eyes looking back at you and the sleeves of his dress shirt straining against his biceps and across his chest made him look irresistible. Shit he definitely saw you staring earlier, shit shit sh- “come with me.” He suddenly spoke up and pushed himself off his desk to walk in-front of you and towards the door at the side of the room. Quickly you followed his long strides, Not knowing where you were going but in the moment you didn’t really care.

Finally he stopped in-front of a door and unlocked it before stepping aside to let you in. walking to one of the two seats sitting before the large wooden desk you sat one one of them and waiting for him to take his place behind the desk. Hearing the click of the lock made you jump slightly and turn around to see him making his way to you with one hand in his pocket. “don’t look so excited, just having a little chat is all.” Fuck is it that noticeable? Well with the way you’re rubbing your thighs together, how your skirt riding up slightly and you don’t move to fix it, it definitely is. “so then, any idea why I went to the trouble of taking my free time to bring you here?”. Why is he acting like you asked for this? “I dunno Mr. Ackerman, maybe is it that you just love chatting to me?.” You could physically see his eyebrow twitch, moving to place his elbow on the arm of the chair and rest his face against his palm he sighed quiet loudly. “maybe I should’ve payed more attention to that attitude of yours”. You bring a hand to your chest and put on your best fake ‘what? Me?’ face. “me? Have an attitude? you’ve got the wrong student i’m afraid, i’ve always been the teachers pet i’ll have you know”.

You swore he was trying to stare right through you with how intense his gaze was. Sighing again he used his foot to slightly sway is leather chair. “listen (y/n) only reason i’m on your ass with the grades is cause Principal Smith is one mine about them.” Scoffing slightly you look off to the side for a moment before looking back at him. “why does he of all people care about my grades out of everyone in this place.” Not wating a second after you finished your sentence he butted in: “cause you used to be a top student only a month ago, now all of a sudden they’re coming out your ass. Care to let me know why?” “Dunno, a girl has priorities and frankly my grades aren’t one of them.” You huffed and crossed your arms back over your chest and pushing up your tits slightly. It was quick, but you seen his eyes flick down to your chest and back up.

“listen (y/n) i wanna go home just as much as you do and i’m not in the mood, so how ‘bout you just try harder when the next test comes around and i’ll try my best to give you the highest I can ‘kay?”. He truly did all seem concerned and all the times you’d fall asleep in his class, cheat on his tests or just not turn in assignments started coming to you along with the guilt of it all. But that doesn’t mean you’re gonna stop your little cat and mouse game. “i’m gonna need a bit more convincing than that sir, it’s easier said than done y’know.” Raising an eyebrow at your comment his adam’s apple bobs in his throat and he fixes his suddenly tight collar. “what do you mean convincing?, what do you have in mind?.” He questions, moving the chair to face it in your direction. Spreading his legs, leaning back and bringing one hand to run it through his black hair.

“oh professor! That sounds so, so scandalous! Didn’t think you were the type.” You seen slight snarl on his face before he turned to look at the bookshelf to his left. “tch, shut it brat, you hinted at it. And don’t think i don’t see the way you stare all class long.” He smirks at the end of his sentence, watching your eyes widened before you send him back your own quirk up of your lips. “oooh? You finally noticed huh? Gahhh it took you long enough.” Waving a hand around and turning your face to the side. “Get over here now.” “Hmm? What was tha-” “I said, get the fuck over now.”

The way his voice went down on octave and his stern gaze had you getting up and walking over to him like an obedient dog to its owner. Now standing between his spread legs your hands went to run across his shoulders and chest without you even thinking. They got lower and lower until they tugged at his belt. He took your two wrists into one and pulled you into his frame. “get down.” The short, but demanding command brought a quiet whimper from your mouth and had him chuckling in your face. Lowering down to sit on your knees , resting your hands on his strong thighs. You looked up to see him looking straight back, he always looked intimidating-but from this angle, it felt like he was burning holes through you. “hurry it up ‘teacher’s pet’” his deep voice, with a mocking sultry tone at the end, went straight to in between your legs, making you turn to hide your face. He bucked his knee up slightly to get your attention and silently tell you to actually hurry.

Rubbing up and down his thighs a few times, feeling the muscles twitch under your touch. The sight of his strained bulge in his slacks had you reaching for his belt, pulling it out through the loops and down onto the ground by your sore knees. His zipper and button came undone with ease along with you pulling down his trousers to his mid thigh, just enough to pull his cock from its tight confinement. He hissed slightly at the brisk air and your soft hand wrapped around him so suddenly. Humming at his reaction you didn’t waste another second and let a drop of spit fall onto the tip, waiting for it to meet your fist before setting his cock with the salvia. You saw his grip on the arm of the chair get tighter, so putting him out of his misery, you took him into your mouth and pushed your head down as far as you could before your gag reflex stopped you. “jesus (y/n), fuck do it again.” His scary n’ intimidating resolve crumbling right in front of you just made you want to see the other side of your professor even more. doing as he told you, you pulled back for a short second before bringing his cock back in and down your throat, holding it for as long as you could. The groan he let out sounded like an angel was above you, making your eyes roll back, throat tightening around him. Anyone would notice how hard he’s holding back from nestling his hands in your hair and fucking up into your mouth, and you did.Wanting to feel him grip your hair, you took his hands from the arms of the chair and placed them on the back of your head. He didn’t wait for you to get used to the feeling of them in your hair before he planted his feet down and used your throat as his own personal fleshlight. “that’s it bitch, suck my fucking cock, choke on it, there you go.” he took one hand from the back of your head and pinched your nose, cutting of your breathing and stilling his cock in the back of your throat, not listening to the hits you were giving his thighs.

All that could be heard in the spacious room was the wet gagging of your throat and his strangled grunts. Waiting and waiting for him to warn you he was about to cum- but it never came, all that did was your head roughly getting ripped from his cock. Once you could breathe probably you started coughing from the lack of air going into your lungs. “a-are you. You okay?” he asked with a bit of concern in his voice that made your chest swell. Giving him a small nod he hummed and lifted you to straddle him. “go ahead and strip for me” growing more impatient for the need for him inside you, you got straight to ridding your body of it’s clothes. Just being left in your panties, Levi looked down to see the soft pink lace with a small bow on the front grinding over his aching hard on. “please sir, can you fuck me now.” That name, that name is what did it for him. He brought his larger hands to the flesh of your ass and ripped the panties from the back and threw them to the floor.

The man didn’t even give you time to react before he lifted you slightly and pushed himself inside your tight heat. You weren’t going to lie- he was definitely bigger than you thought, especially for a man of his height. His bruising grip on your waist and the feel of sinking down on his cock had you whimpering and reaching for his broad shoulders. “s-sir more need more.” His strong chest shook with the deep chuckle he responded with. “a bit greedy don’t we think?” “don’t care, want you sir plea-ah!” he cut off your begging with a harsh slap to your ass and thrusted his hips up to meet yours. It all came at once and you feel into his chest panting. “c’mon brat, do the rest yourself since you want it so badly.” His demanding and teasing tone returned as he leaned back to watch you.

Lifting your knees up as much as you could till just the tip remained in you, and then you slammed back down onto his thighs. The action ripped moans from both of you in sync and had you repeating the cycle for another while. Levi thinks to himself for a short second, ‘what is he doing, why is he doing this?’ but you loud moan shook him from the thoughts and threw them out the window. The mix of the leather rubbing against your knees and the sweat on your skin started to make it harder for you to bounce desperately on his cock.

As if he could sense what your thinking, he reached around and under to rest his hands on the underside of your ass and stood up, holding you in his strong arms. He made it look effortless, how he could hold you up and walk to the wall behind his desk. “S-sir fuck wait”. He didn’t want to wait, he wanted to feel more of you, feel you cum around him and feel you squirm when he fills you up. “you didn’t wanna wait earlier did you? Didn’t wait a second when you had the- fuuck- chance did you? Just a fucking whore for me that’s all you are. A hole for me to use” His words were laced with venom, spat right into your ear by his mouth along with the stinging slap to your ass. Desperate to feel more of him, you dig your fingers into his shoulders, the skin hidden my his baby blue dress shirt as he lifted you up and back down with the brute strength of his arms.

Levi couldn’t hold it back much longer he needed to see you a shaking dumb little mess for him. He hoisted you so he could turn around and place you on the edge of the desk. You wanted to finally get a good look at the man that was giving you the pleasure you waited so long for, leant back on your forearms you could finally see Levi Ackerman in all his glory. The light from the two windows behind him shone in rays through the blinds and bouched off the exposed skin of his chest where he unbuttoned his shirt, the light flush to his cheeks and the jet black hair sticking to his forehead. It all made him look angelic before you, and you just couldn’t peel your eyes off him. He noticed the slight trance you were in and gave a particularly hard thrust that kissed at your cervix. It straight away snapped you out of the gaze and threw your head back with a loud moan. “fuck sir please don’t sto- hah! Wanna cum on y’ cock please please” moans spilled from you in tangent with his hips meeting your own. “such dirty fuckin’ words for a teachers pet hm? Should teach you some manners next time. But go ahead you wanna, hnngh, cum that badly do it for me darlin’”. There was too much for your fucked out brain to dissolve in the one sentence. Next time? Did he want to do this again? Did he mean to call you that name?. you didn’t care- you didn’t in the moment, all that matters was making him get you to the edge then watch him crumble himself. “yes sir m’gonna cum for you h-hard fuck fuck ahh m’ cummin oh my go- Levi!”

You didn’t mean to call him that, you really didn’t, it just slipped out in the midst of your orgasm ripping through you in waves. But he definitely didn’t miss it, his rhythm faltered for a short second but he seen you were still riding your high so he brushed it aside to keep you seeing stars, and trying to get there himself. “shit (y/n) that’s it, fuck you look- feel so good think i’m close” he grunted, watching you fall apart under him. He needed to feel deeper inside you. Grabbing your ankles from his waist, he brought them to his shoulders and kept up his erratic pace.

You had only come down and he still hadn’t let up. It was starting to tether on the edge of pain and pleasure and you didn’t know how long you could keep going. “No, no Le-sir please I cant can’t anymore fuck!” the moan he let slip out had him turning to hide his face in your calf. “shhh just- jesus christ, a bit longer ‘kay m’ nearly there baby you gonna take it all when I fill you up like the cumdump you are.” He struggled to get the sentence out, biting back more moans. You whimpered at the way the pet name fell from his lips like velvet.

“Sir I think i’m go-”, “‘s not my name princess” you peeked your head from his previous place behind your arm to see his stern stare had returned. “L-Levi..” you said quietly in case you were wrong. “fuck, there we go, now say it again”. His voice had gone deeper and the crease of his eyebrow told you that he was about to follow in your footsteps and reach his high. “Levi I think im, think i’m gonna cum again, please don’t stop it’s so good!” he hoped you were right there behind him cause he was himself. “fuck fuck (y/n) cum with me now, fucking cum you greedy little slut.” Flipping you over, he brought a hand to your hair and pulled you up to level with his face, making your back arch in a painful way. “I mean it bitch, be a good girl n’ cum nice n’ hard for your professor while he fills you with his cum.” He pushed your head back down onto the desk with force and brought his free hand to clap on your ass one, two and three times before gripping the tender flesh in his hand, using it as leverage to pound into your clenching cunt. Too much, it was all too much and for the second time you came, gushing around his cock. But this time it came gushing out of you and splashed onto his exposed stomach.”holy shit that’s it you fuckin slut!”. He brought three of his fingers down to dance across your clit and help you ride it out as his hips jerked against yours, his balls tightening and emptying the white spurts to paint your walls.

When you both were well spent he slowly pulled out of you, watching as his cum dripped out of your twitching pussy. He softly laughed when he used two fingers to push it back in you, seeing you wince as he did. Your whole body was sore and, frankly you don’t think you could move any part of it. Voicing your distress to him, it was like he snapped out of the mean, demanding character and flipped a switch to a caring side you’ve never seen. “here ill help” he brought his arm to under your knees and behind your back to lift and sit you on his chair behind him. “I have some tissue and wipes here for you if you need them, do you.. do you want me to help you get cleaned up?” not having the energy to answer him, you just nodded your head and let him crouch down and wipe away the mixed fluids from your body as gently as he could.

“listen (y/n), do-” “i’m not gonna tell anyone don’t worry, besides why would i? wouldn’t benefit me if did anyway.why? you ashamed we did this?” he looked up at you with wide eyes and took your hand in his. “no, no of course not. I just, just don’t want it getting around. could lose my job y’ know.” He whispered the last part quietly. “yeah I know, but i’m not ashamed or anything either, just so you know.” For the first time, in what you think is probably forever, he smiles softly and looks down at you playing with his fingers. “that’s good to know, and when i said next time, it wasn’t just in the moment, just so you know.” You both laughed at him mocking your words. “your not as scary as you seem Mr. Ackerman” looking and laughing up once again he hid his wide smile behind his hand. “is that so? Well thank you Ms. (L/n).”

you were going to laugh back a retort but just watching his soft, plump lips dance as he spoke and still in a smirk had you moving before you could think and slotted your lips onto his. Shocked, he didn’t react at you falling onto the floor beside him, but after a second he registered what was going on and moved one hand to the back of your head, the other to your bare waist and moved his lips against yours. Pulling away for a breath of air, he looked into the irises of your eyes and spoke up: “you don’t have to say yes of course, but if you’d like, i’d love to bring you to dinner sometime. not just as a professor and student shit, just as two people wanting to get to know each other”. Now it was your turn to freeze up and not know how to react. Going through the current scenario in your head, weighing between the options, you wondered what to say to the awaiting man before you. “I u-um.. i’d love to si- Levi” the way his name slipped from your tongue like honey made him flush and sheepishly look away for a short while. “well then I guess I could find some free time for you.” “yes, i’ll have to find time in my oh so busy schedule aswell Sir”. Both of you fell into a comfortable fit of laughter again in each other’s embrace.

The scene looked rather comical really. You-bare naked- and your-half bare- college professor laughing on the floor of his office, while talking about planning dates. Who would’ve thought failing grades would get you here?.

-End <3 part two? 😳

[jisungscaramel]

dare | han 

❀ genre; smut, a little fluff, best friends au ❀ pairing; han jisung x reader (fem) ❀ word count; 2k

[warnings] explicit sexual content, oral, unprotected sex (be safe y’all), (mild) edging, cockwarming, saucy truth or dare

The intangible friction between you and your best friend was undeniable, yet with conviction, you held this idea that it was all in your head, and instead of fleshing out the inkling of frustration you felt every time you’d hang out, you chose to ignore it.

You chose to ignore the way he’d press his palms into the small of your back when he’d pull you close, the way he’d keep your body tight on his when he’d hug you, the way you’d catch his curious stares, the way his eyes seemed to send endless subliminal messages. 

You chose to ignore the way the butterflies would flutter in your chest whenever that physical contact was made, the desire that would pool in the pit of your stomach whenever your wordless gazes collided. 

You chose to ignore it. 

Until today. 

Honestly, you couldn’t say if he was on the same wavelength as you but as soon as he said these words on what you perceived to be a usual Netflix date (hold the chill), you were definitely suspicious: “Let’s play truth or dare.”

You knocked him on the head. “Han Jisung, you know there’s only two of us here… right?” 

He blinked at you innocently and rather cutely, as if he couldn’t see the correlation between your questions. “Yes… you’re point?” 

You clicked your tongue, sinking back into the worn in leather couch with your arms crossed. “Have you ever played truth or dare with just one other person? I sure as fuck haven’t.” 

He rolled his eyes in an exaggeratedly exasperated manner. “No, but I don’t recall there ever being a rule saying you can’t.” 

“But,” you turned to him to put on your best puppy dog face… which was mediocre at best but a valiant attempt, “don’t you wanna watch Avatar? We’re almost done with Book 2.” 

“We watched it already… 4 times actually… in the past month.” 

“Yes… your point?” you wrinkled your nose, repeating his previous words. 

“Let’s do something different for a change.”

You turn the television off. “Ok fine,” drawing out the latter word as if it were stuck on your tongue. 

Next thing you knew, he was constricting your body with his limbs, happily rubbing his cheek on yours like a child. “Yee!” and then all of sudden, he was sitting back, deadpan, folding his arms with determination. “Truth or dare?” 

“Hmmm truth.” 

And then that small child was back. “What? Why? That’s no fun!” 

You shrugged. “You wanted to play truth or dare, remember? Emphasis on truth.” 

“Fine, is it true that you hooked up with someone in the library?”

“Ji, I already told you that story.” 

“I know, but it was so wild that I didn’t really believe you. Now you have to tell me the truth.”

“What makes you think I’d be any less truthful otherwise? And also, what makes you think that I’d absolutely tell you the truth now if I was possibly lying before?” 

He widened his eyes and flared his nostrils in a rather comical manner. “If you can lie during truth or dare, you must be satan.” 

You stared at him rather blankly, speaking quite frankly, “that… made no sense.” 

His lips pressed into a firm line. “It does; you just won’t admit it.” 

You snickered, rolling your eyes. “Whatever… truth or dare”

“Dare, I ain’t no bitch.” 

You smacked his shoulder - playfully. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

And he pouted, rubbing his shoulder. “Nothing… nothing at all.” 

“I dare you to leave Felix a voice note confessing your love to him.” 

He offered you a begrudging glare but he wordlessly unlocked his phone with no hesitation, opening his messages with his roommate. He lifted the end to his lips: “Oi Felix! I just wanted to let you know that I love you bro.” He smiled in satisfaction as he sent the note. 

“That’s not what I meant!” you protested. 

To which, he shrugged. “You didn’t specify what kind of love.” 

Your hand made contact with your face in embarrassment. “Why are you like this?”

“Because you,” he placed his palms on his cheeks to squish them, “love me.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Ok, truth or dare?” 

“...Just to make you happy: dare.” 

“Hmmm,” he bit his lip in contemplation, “what should I get you to do?” he gripped his chin. 

“Please don’t make me eat wasabi. I almost burned my nose off that one ti-” 

“I dare you to kiss me… on the lips.” 

When you met his eyes, you expected the usual teasing glint, but you saw none. He was dead serious, and you felt the saliva thicken in your throat, forcing you to swallow a little harder than normal. 

As if your body was moving on its own, you leaned forward toward Jisung, resting your hands on his shoulders, distance lessening an inch by every passing moment. You were only planning on giving him a peck, but it just felt more natural to slightly part and purse your lips into a proper kiss. As your eyes fell shut, your heart began trembling in its confines, rattling your spine - you just hoped it wasn’t as obvious to him as it was to you. 

His plush peach lips were as soft as you imagined - though you’d never admit you’d been imagining it in the first place. And for a moment, maybe two, you passed through the mix of emotional signals, focusing instead on the physical, the subliminal body language: how his hands found themselves on your hips, how his lips occasionally broke the rhythm to tug on your lower lip, how he’d let out the softest groans every time there was a change in pressure. 

But then you removed yourself from your physical position, remembering the mental position you were in, biting your lips and looking away, biting your lips as if you wanted to say something, but your words clung to your throat - so you cleared it. “...truth or dare?” 

“Truth.” 

“Why did you want me to kiss you?” 

His expression was serious - something you weren’t used to. He leaned back, folding his arms, lips parted, tongue smoothing over his teeth to graze the edge of his top lip. “Same reason why you couldn’t get your hands off me.” 

You didn’t even have a moment to be dissatisfied with his answer. “Truth or dare?” there was a sultry tone to his voice, and although it was out of character for him, it was perfectly in line with the vibe he was giving in that moment. 

“Dare.” The first time you’d chosen that, it was for no reason other than to spare yourself of Jisung’s complaints, but this time? Curiosity laced your tongue, wondering where he would take it next, if he would take it anywhere at all. 

“Go down on me.” 

You tugged on your lower lip with your teeth as a subtle smirk grew on your face. Of course, he would. You got down on the floor, kneeling in front of him. 

You placed your palm over his crotch, feeling a stirring beneath the fabric of his jeans. “Are you gonna help me with this?” You prodded the top button with your index finger.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “You’re a big girl.” 

Challenge accepted. 

The finger on his button flicked it undone, but you took your time pulling the zipper down. You were in no rush. 

But he was. 

You could tell from the slightest gestures: the way his back kept sinking back in the couch, the way his fingers kept combing through his hair, the way he hissed under his breath, the way his hips rolled up - if you weren’t so close to him, you wouldn’t have noticed any of it. 

When you finally took it upon yourself to free his personified frustration, you were taken aback, not because of his girth or the throbbing redness - although that was in the back of your mind. You were teetering on a metaphorical edge of your friendship. The kiss was one thing but now you were approaching the gate of no return. But you’d have plenty of time to worry about that later... and after the fact. 

You let the lust shroud your head with its black clouds as you leaned in closer. You delicately ran the flat of your ring finger up his length while dragging your tongue down, eliciting an explicit gasp from him.

And he couldn’t help but squirm under you when you circled your tongue under the head, where he was the most sensitive. 

Your lips secured around the tip, and you sunk them down as far as they could go, until they pressed firmly on his pelvis. The vulgar gurgling sound you inadvertently made while fighting your gag reflex only did more to stir his arousal. 

“Fuck, since when were you this hot?” 

You started bobbing your head up and down, cheeks hollowing as a result of the increased suction. Every now and then, you’d slow down to trace his prominent veins with your tongue, and when you’d pick up your pace again, grunts and groans continuously trickled down his lips. 

You wanted to smirk. Your nostrils flared as the corners of your lips lifted up as much as they could in their limiting position. You had to take your hands away from his hip and the base of his dick to place them behind your back just to show off.

When Jisung’s sounds became gruffer and more primal, you had an inlinking of what was to come. So, you stopped, smacking your lips with a loud pop. 

“Truth or dare?” Desire poured from your half-lidded eyes, lacing your voice in a tone that sent electricity through Jisung’s nerves. 

“...Dare,” he whispered, still heavily breathing. 

You stood up. “Take your pants off and don’t move for the next five minutes… no matter what.” 

He peered up at you with suspicious eyes, but did as you asked. His suspicion turned into surprise as you pulled your leggings and panty off in one motion, setting the garments on the ground. 

“What are you doing?” he asked in a strained voice as you straddled him, gripping the back of the couch for support, aligning your now-dripping heat over his erection. 

“Making,” you started lowering yourself, taking him in, “things more,” all in, “interesting.” 

He threw his head back, “Fuck.” 

“Remember,” you tapped your phone on the other side of the couch to see the time, “no moving for five minutes.”

“You’re so evil.” He glared at you. 

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought you knew this already.” 

“I didn’t-” his attempt to amend his statement was cut short when you attached your lips to his jaw, trailing kisses up its line, slowly, taking your time. 

He held his breath when yours blew into his ear, heat searing his skin, and you could feel him twitch inside you.

“I’m gonna destroy you when my turn is up.”

You tapped his chin with your finger. “If you can manage to behave until then.”

“You think I can’t?” 

“It’s not that I think you can’t… I just don’t think you can.” You waved your hips to increase the pressure between your connected skin, and you could tell he had to bite his tongue just to suppress a moan. 

When your lips latched onto his neck, he gulped, staring at the clock at the other end of the room. He tried to fixate on the constant movement of the second hand, but his body had a different agenda, preferring to focus on how good your lips felt on his sensitive skin, how you alternated between sweet pecks and French kisses, hard sucking and soft nibbling.

He felt the heat radiating from his skin, sweat dripping down the back of his neck as a result of his attempt to hold himself back. He grit his teeth, frustration crippling his body; he was this close to caving, this close. 

“Time.” 

He bucked his hips up, gripping yours tightly. “Such a fucking tease.” But he still held back, keeping his pumping slow and steady. “Truth or dare?” 

You crashed your body to match his tempo. “Truth.” 

“Do you want it harder?” 

“...Yes.” 

 ><><><><><><><

A/N This one is also a reimagined version of a scenario I wrote for a different idol years ago

[xoxo-teddybear]

Oh, The Lies You Tell - Bakugou Katsuki - pt. 1

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: angst, trauma, abuse, betrayal, fluff, slice of life, smut, cursing, manipulation, possible spoilers, physical harm, 18+

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

Ep. Warnings: cursing, mentions of abuse and manipulation, slice of life(ish), manga spoilers!!

A/N: Ok so this is just what I daydream about, and since ima tv addict, I’m involving some “Avatar: The Last Airbender” related things, but a little different. This is more of an introduction to our character but I hope you enjoy!

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9

Summary: It’s Y/N’s first day at UA.....as a “former” villain

“Y/N L/N. She’s a new transfer student. Treat her with your respect and do your best to take care of her.” The tired teacher spoke.

“.......Hey. Please treat me well.” The intimidating girl said as she bowed in respect.

Now if you were to see Y/N on the streets as a stranger, you wouldn’t even think she would have this threatening aura. The class agreed. She’s gorgeous. From a far, you would think she’s a sweetheart, But the girl had a cold, calm stare in her E/C eyes. There was actually no way to describe it. It was just chilling to the bone.

Not only that, but it was clear you were a little rebel. Mainly because of the way you decided to change up your uniform. Your sleeves were torn off to make your button up top some sort of tight fitted turtle neck with a tie that was complimenting your busty figure. Especially since it was tightly tucked into your skirt, pressing against your torso instead of loosely sitting in there like the other girls. You also added a small dark brown belt to cover where your skirt and top meet. Your waist gave the perfect show of how curvaceous you truly were. Your thighs were deliciously thick and your ass must’ve been a perfect peach, considering it caused your skirt to seem a little too small for you. Instead of the typical shoes and knee high socks, you opted for thigh high dark brown leather boots that folded at the top to match your belt. No heel though, of course. Gotta keep it casual. You finished off your rebellious look with a pair of black leather fingerless gloves. Do you look like trouble? Yup. Do you look hot as hell though? You bet.

“You may be seated next to Katsuki Bakugou.” Your new teacher spoke. Before anybody else could give an indication of who this “Bakugou” boy was, an electric blonde spoke up.

“Be careful with that one pretty lady, he’s our resident hot head.” The boy spoke while the entire class giggled.

“Shut it dunce face.” Your eyes shifted from one blonde to another. This time with a spiky head of ash blonde hair and piercing red eyes. As you walk towards your new seat, you made eye contact with the spiky blonde, you saw the look on his face. Just like everyone else, a face of fear and shock, except this time the person didn’t know who you were.

Bakugou could definitely say upon first glance, you were definitely something fierce. It threw him off just how powerful your presence was. He quickly turned away as you took your seat.

As class began, everyone had their eyes on Y/N. Some admiring her beauty, others wary of her aura, and some too nervous to mention their newfound fear of her. In the middle of Mr. Aizawa’s boring lecture, a scratch at the door could be heard.

‘A scratch?’ Everyone thought. But Y/N knew exactly who it was.

When Mr. Aizawa went to open the door, in came what appears to be a wolf-dog. Mr. Aizawa seemed to casually accept it and just expected you to explain. He was too tired to deal with this crazy shit.

“Oh..there you are Rumor. Took you long enough to find this place.” The creature, also somehow intimidating, simply just huffed at the girl and layed down next to her seat in between her and Bakugou.

“L/N, please explain to the class why Rumor is here. They clearly seem to be confused.” Y/N looked around the room to see her new classmates staring at her and her furry friend.

“*sigh* he’s my animal companion.” You simply stated. Apparently it didn’t satisfy your peers because a freckled, green haired boy spoke up.

“Animal companion? Like a service dog?” The timid boy asked. You secretly rolled your eyes at the fact you’ll have to answer this question again. That is until Bakugou spoke.

“You damn nerd, if he was a service dog, she woulda said that now, don’t ‘cha think?” ‘Dunce face and a damn nerd huh? Wonder what new nickname this hedgehog will give me.’ Your little quip made you give the smallest smile with a quiet laugh to yourself

What you didnt realize was that during your little moment, Bakugou was watching you the entire time. He fought the blush that was threatening to rise and successfully won. ‘The hell?’ Bakugou thought. Since when did he blush?

“He’s right. Rumor isn’t my service dog, he’s my animal companion. And no, not my pet. He’s more like a close friend. My best friend if anything. He’s also not a dog either, he’s a changeling.” You explained hoping someone else knew what a changeling was. Thankfully, the “damn nerd” did.

“Changeling? I thought they were just a myth.” He said. “What the heck is a changeling, Deku?” You turned and saw it was a girl with a round face and pink cheeks. ‘Deku? How rude’ you thought to yourself.

“Changelings were rumored to be magical like beasts who could take the form of any animal they chose. Those forms could be as real as eagles and bears or as mythical as dragons and unicorns. They could also change the size of their form too. Am I right, L/N?” Deku asked you.

“You’re completely right, Deku.” The green haired boy blushed at his nickname on your tongue. “Rumor can be any creature I command. His wolf-dog form is his casual form though. It’s the form he took at birth I guess.”

“You guess?” Bakugou asked.

“Yes, I guess. I didn’t have Rumor since he was born. I found him while I was on a walk in the forest. We just clicked, and he followed me home. That’s when I discovered his powers and what he was, and seeing that changelings were only rumored to have existed, I thought it would’ve been a fitting name. We’ve been together ever since, and not only does he work as a friend, he’s a fighter too. He’s like a partner to me which is exactly why principle Nezu allowed him to attend UA with me. I guess you could say he’s part of my...uhm..quirk” You thoroughly explained. You couldn’t help it. You loved talking about Rumor. He was your best friend and definitely one of a kind.

Rumor looked up at you and barked. You turned to pet him on the head and gave him a little smile. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by the resident hot head, which once again caused him to fight back a blush. ‘The fuck is going on with me today?’ The blonde thought to himself. Finally satisfied with the answers, the class picked up where they left off and continued to learn about quirks which didn’t seem all that useful to you since....you don’t have one.

——————————————————————————

Later

“Remember, we will all be meeting at gym gamma tomorrow morning, so don’t bother coming to the classroom. Just meet up there with any comfortable gym wear.” Mr. Aizawa said at the end of the day.

“Yes sir!” The class all said. “L/N stay behind, I need to speak to you and Rumor.” The tired teacher said with a yawn.

“Yes sir.” You calmly replied.

As the class gathered their things to leave, some came up to speak to you. First it was Deku and the round faced girl.

“Welcome to UA L/N. My name is Izuku Midoriya!” Deku said.

“Oh my apologies. I thought I heard that your name was Deku.” You said so nonchalantly with your sweet voice.

“Well it’s just a nickname that started up with Kacchan.” The boy was now blushing in slight embarrassment while rubbing the back of his head.

“Kacchan? I’m sorry, I don’t know who that is.” You said.

“Oh right! My bad, Kacchan is Bakugou. It’s a name I gave him during our childhood.” He stated.

“Seems a little mean.” You chuckled

“Yeah but he’s always been like that.” The boy smiled with a small laugh.

“I think I can tell. He must be really nice to Deku and Dunce face.”

You both shared a laugh at your little sarcastic poke at the explosive blonde that the girl was feeling a little left out.

“Anyways, I’m Ochako Uraraka! I was really hoping I could talk to you more but Deku over here can’t seem to keep his mouth shut.” the girl slightly teased.

“Meh. No worries. We’re gonna be stuck together for the next few years. We have plenty of time to get to know each other.” You so kindly spoke as you gathered your stuff.

“Totally! We can-“ Uraraka was cut off by a very handsome two toned boy with a scar. He definitely reminded you of some you knew. You watched as he came up to speak to Midoriya.

“Hey, Midoriya. Did you want to...” you tuned out his conversation. You simply just stared at him in awe. No doubt about it. He was definitely Dabi’s brother. But he was a whole lot more handsome.

The boy caught onto your staring and introduced himself.

“Hello L/N, my name is Shoto Todoroki. You may know me from my father, Endeavor, but I assure you, I’m nothing like him. In fact it’s safe to say I hate him.” He stated ever so calmly. ‘Wow. So blunt. And I guess hating Endeavor runs in the family’

“Hey it’s fine. I get it, daddy issues.” You nervously laughed but this seemed to strike an interest in Todoroki as he seem to have wanted to continue bashing both of your fathers until he was interrupted by Bakugou.

“You’re in my way Icy-hot.” ‘Jeez, another nickname?’ You thought.

“Then move to another side.” Todoroki quickly came back with.

This caused you to now openly give a quiet laugh, you could already tell what kind of relationship those two have. During your small laugh, Bakugou once again caught himself staring, except this time, he was caught. And it was by you.

You both made eye contact once again. As he stared into your E/C colored eyes, and you stared into his rubied gems, you both grew a slight blush on your cheeks and the 3 standing next to you both took notice.

“Hey..” you sweetly said.

“..........hey.” He replied and quickly looked away embarrassed. That peaceful little moment made your heart stir. Something that hasn’t happened in a long time. If felt calming, loving, happy...and weird and confusing. Thankfully, Dunce face came up to flip the switch.

“Wow Kacchaaannn,” the electric blonde said wiggling his brows. “Never seen you blush like that. You got a little crush on the new gir-“

“SHUT UP SPARK PLUG!” Bakugou exclaimed as he quickly made his way out of the classroom.

“Hey why you gotta be so mean all the time man!” Dunce face cried out.

“I SAID SHUT UP” Bakugou screamed from down the hall. ‘Well he certainly is interesting.....and cute’

“Ah jeez, whatever,” the blonde sighed before you seemed to have caught his attention.

“Well hey there pretty lady,” he started “I’m Denki Kaminari and you are one gorgeous girl. And you definitely got a rockin’ bod-“ he was cut off by our scary teacher.

“That’s enough Kaminari, I need to speak to L/N. Now all of you, out.” He commanded.

They all took their leave thinking about how cool and kind you were. Oh how wrong they were. The little act you put up sure was convincible. Hell, the only thing you genuinely meant was that Todoroki and Bakugou were cute and the blush that came up whenever Bakugou stared at you. You still couldn’t explain it but you brushed it off.

When all were gone, you mentally took notes of their names and possible quirks.

Izuku Midoriya. Alias: Damn Nerd and Deku. Quirk: unknown.

Ochako Uraraka. Alias: unknown. Quirk: unknown.

Shoto Todoroki. Alias: Icy-hot. Quirk: possibly related to cold and heat

Denki Kaminari. Alias: Dunce Face and Spark Plug. Quirk: possibly related to electricity

Katsuki Bakugou. Alias: Kacchan. Quirk: unknown

“L/N.” Your teacher snapped you out of your quick thought and got you focused.

“You seemed to be very comfortable with telling them about Rumor.” Mr. Aizawa said with an eyebrow raised.

“Well he is my best friend. I could go on and on about Rumor for hours if people didn’t stop me. And you can’t lie, he is pretty interesting. Especially his fighting style. You would know all about that, wouldn’t you....Eraser Head?” You said with a sinister smile.

You were well aware that Aizawa knew Rumor’s capabilities very well. You were also aware he knew much about yours too. I mean, you both have fought each other before. And one of you almost didn’t make it out alive. Hint hint, it wasn’t you.

“You are to address me as Aizawa Sensei or Mr. Aizawa, Titania.” He sternly said.

“Ouch, the villain name? I thought the past was the past. There’s a good inside me, dont you remember? You were the one who said it after all. You were even the one who recommended an S-Class villain like me should join UA.” You snidely replied.

*flashback*

As you fought against the skilled pro, you could tell he was getting weaker and weaker by the second. You used your air bending to push him back, crushing him into the wall, and keep him far away. Before you could send Rumor in to finish the job, a hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“Kurogiri? What are you doing here?” You stopped fighting and quickly turned to your superior in a fearful and shaky manner. Although you were much stronger than him and could easily take him down, you knew better. Your mind had already been so manipulated into thinking you were the weakest villain in the league, when it reality, you were strong enough to take down Shigaraki in a snap...but you didn’t need to know that.

Eraser Head, too tired and beaten to even pick himself up off the ground watched the interaction from the distance.

“You were told to collect intel, not fight a pro.” The black fog stated.

“Well yes, but he tried to stop me an-“ he silenced you with a smack to the face. Kurogiri was a respectful man...in ways...but he was just following orders on how to treat Y/N.

“If he tried to stop you, you run away.” He said, matter of factly.

“But he-“ once again, he cut you off but this time with a louder voice.

“But nothing! You were to gather intel and report back to base. Not fight. If you got into trouble, you are to run away, and use your bending and Rumor as assistance.” He stated.

“Yes sir. I’m sorry sir.” You said with your head bowed down in dishonor.

Aizawa could already tell from afar how controlled you were. In past fights, he’s noticed how you were so quick to succumb to any villain in the league, and you were always so willing to go back to them no matter how many times you could’ve ran away on your own. It was like they had something you needed, or more so it was them that you needed. For survival, perhaps?

“Did you even gather the information we needed?” Kurogiri asked.

Your silence gave him all the answers he needed. With a disappointing glare he reached for you, when you flinched at just the slighted movement, Aizawa knew something was wrong. Yes you were a villain, but it was clear you were also a manipulated child. So he acted quick, and attacked Kurogiri, knocking him out, and grabbed you. Before you both took off, you threw one of your earrings at kurorgiri’s unconscious body, knowing he’ll know what to do once he sees it. As he ran with you, he took notice of the animal behind him that followed you. When he finally landed on a cliff hanging over the city, he placed you down to sit on the grass and looked at you before speaking.

“I can see it. All of it. They’re controlling you aren’t they?” The pro-hero spoke.

“Excuse me? Nobody is controlling anybody! I choose to follow orders!” You yelled as Rumor came up to you.

“What is that thing?” Aizawa asked.

“He’s my friend and you won’t harm him!” You said while grabbing onto Rumor.

The pro took note of that word you used. Friend. Villains don’t have friends, they don’t have anybody but goons and partners in crime. Literally. You were definitely different compared to these other villains.

“I have no intentions on harming you or your friend.” The pro spoke.

“So what do you want with me.”

“....Simple. I want you to go to school, live in the dorm rooms, eat good food, train more to become better as a person and fighter, and make more friends. I see a good in you Titania, you deserve a good life. Not one controlled by villains where you do their bidding for what? Survival?” Aizawa said as he crossed his arms while looking at you.

You were in shock. He was able to figure you out. Well, he figured out why you were with the league. Survival. But it doesn’t matter, you were so brainwashed that you were convinced anyone outside the league wanted to kill you...at least that’s what the LOV told you.

“I don’t want to go to school, I want to go back home to the league.” You said while looking down and holding onto your furry friend.

“Home? UA could give you a better home.”

You looked up in shocked at his words. He wanted you to attend school at UA? You know that place. That’s the one place where the league has been so invested in ever since All Might joined the staff there. Suddenly, an idea came into thought. You knew exactly how you were gonna get into the league’s good graces and out of the cold shadow.

“UA?....That’s where you want me to go? How the hell am I supposed to get in there? I’m a known villain genius.” You sarcastically said.

“A villain hidden behind a full face mask. People don’t know your true identity, and did you ever think that maybe the league wants it that way?” He said

“Are you saying you know who I truly am?” You questioned him.

“No, but that doesn’t matter right now. If you want to go to UA, I can help you. I’m a teacher there and I can put in a good word for you. Sure it will take a lot of convincing but I’m willing to do it. Using UA as a reformatory program for you could be benefitting you in more ways than one. So if going to UA is what you really want, I’m more than happy to help you Titania.”

You couldn’t believe it. Your heart was so excited. You were finally going to get away from this horrible life of crime and killing. Away from the abuse and blood. Away from the league. But your brain was telling you to deny it all. You were safer with the league, everyone is out to get you, and you will die without the villains help. But a bark broke you out of thought.

You turned to your side to see what seems to be a smile on Rumor’s face. He was wagging his tail and sticking his tongue out while giving you puppy dog eyes. It appears he knew what was going on and he seemed excited. For your best friend, the world. So you gave in...happily.

“Y/N.” You said while getting up off the ground.

“Huh?” The pro spoke.

“My name is Y/N L/N, and I’d be happy to join UA.” You said with a smile and tears of joy filling you eyes. Rumor happily barked at the pro as well.

“Well alright then,” the pro said sticking out his hand for you to shake, “Y/N L/N, welcome to UA.”

As you shook his hand your smile held a thousand words. Happiness, excitement, villainy, and sin. Sure you were going to benefit yourself, but you were also going to benefit the league.

*Present Time*

“I was hoping I’d get more respect from you considering I was the one who got you into UA,” Aizawa tiredly said while turning his head towards the ceiling and crossing his arms. “But I guess that mischief and attitude just comes with the deal.”

“Correct.” You simply said.

“So are you willing to tell them what your “quirk” is? You seemed so open about Rumor, I thought your powers would be the same.” Aizawa pressed on.

“Not sure yet. I only just met the students. They seem nice.” You said while looking at your now very interesting shoes.

“They’re a crazy bunch, but they’re incredible friends. They could be great friends to you too Y/N.” You looked back up at him with hope, but quickly remembered why you were there in the first place.

The teacher took noticed of this and continued. “Either way, they’ll have to see what you got tomorrow. In gym gamma we’ll be doing some sparring including our quirks, so you’ll have to show them all that you can do.” He said.

He saw how that made you nervous. Not because you were scared to speak about or show your abilities, but because you knew you would be hit with thousands of questions. Oh how annoyed you must be.

“Understood.” You said to him as if you were a soldier. He won’t get used to that. He’ll have to make sure you know it’s ok to speak to people as..well people, and not like everyone is your superior.

“Good,” he began to walk to his yellow sleeping bag to pick it up, “now head to the front of the school. I left an escort for you to help guide you to your dorm room. That person will also be a guide in all things UA for you so be nice. You’ll be stuck with them for awhile. That is all, you can go now.”

As you and Rumor made your way to the front, you had so many questions going on in your mind. Should you make new friends or keep them at a distance? Should you completely drop the league and join UA? Should you blow your cover and expose why your truly there? What to do, what to do.

When you made it to the front, you finally saw your escort, and you couldn’t help but give a little smirk.

“Hey..”

A/N: If y’all wanna see the clothes that inspired Y/N’s uniform, check this out!!!

A/N: Damn guys, I know I’ve only just started writing but this is kinda the story I imagine in my mind at night. So I thought it would be fun to give it to reality. So here’s my first FanFic😅 hopefully it doesn’t turn out too terrible, but I promise to work on my skills and improve. Also, if you need a reference to what Y/N’s uniform looks like, search up “Akame from Akame Ga Kill.” That’s the look that heavily inspired Y/N’s new uniform. And if you’re confused on what the boots look like, search up “Lucy Heartfilia thigh high boots,” bc those are the EXACT boots I imagine on Y/N except in a darker brunette color to match the belt. Once again, NOT spell checked so my apologies for any mistakes. I hope you enjoyed pt. 1! And if this goes well, tell me if you’d like a pt. 2! I love to hear feedback! Thx <3

[acapelladitty]

Whole Day Off: Part 4 (The Event)

Pairing: Jonathan Crane/Female Reader

(Warnings in this chapter for: physical assault and attempted sexual assault, neither of which take place at the hands of Crane.)

Summary: After an unprovoked attack forces the Scarecrow to step into an unfamiliar role as a saviour, you find yourself experiencing a new side of Jonathan Crane which you never could have anticipated.

Twisting your keys as you pull them free of the ignition, the engine quickly dies and the chilled air of the night sweeps across your body as you step free of your car. You had not expected to be seeing Crane tonight, but the invitation had been a welcome distraction from the uninteresting pile of work which sat atop your desk at home, awaiting your attention.

As always, the warmth of your long coat keeps most of the cold air out and the only exposed areas of your body are your lower calves as they peek out from the bottom of the coat. The skirt and bra combination, a continued winner in your salacious rendezvous with the infamous Scarecrow, clung to your body beneath the coat and you amuse yourself with his reactions to such an outfit as you hurry along.

A low cough grabs your attention and your head snaps around to take in two nearby figures; their upper bodies leaning against one of the many metal cargo crates which were littered around the dock as their upper halves remained hidden by the evening shadows.

“Hey, baby,” the shorter of the two men piped up, “did you get a little lost?”

Ignoring them, your feet pick up their pace as you move through the dock, treading the familiar path towards your destination.

“Aww, come on now,” the voice continues, “I’m just trying to help you. Why don’t you come over here and tell me your name?”

The vague sound of footsteps in the space behind you forces you to turn your head and you can see that both men have moved off their original position and are now walking behind you at a slight distance. Anxiety grips at your chest as you realise you have no defensive weapons or pepper spray with you and the vulnerability of that knowledge makes your breath catch in your throat.

Moving even faster, you focus on your goal. The warehouse would provide a fantastic cover and there were few who would actively move against the man who resided there once made aware of his presence.

“Why you being so rude, darling?” A new voice, the one of the taller man, joined his friend, “We just want to say hello to the pretty lady.”

Breaking into an open sprint, you briefly appreciate your own foresight as your flat shoes make the task easier than it could have been as your feet pound against the gravel. The warehouse is just up ahead and if you can just get through the doors then there is a lock which will be strong enough to keep both men out.

In the quiet of the dock, the sound of mixed footsteps echoes off the metal containers which litter the area, and your breath comes in short sharp pants as you try to keep a distance. Fear curls against your spine and it is the raw fear of vulnerability, of being the victim of one of the worst types of violence.

A squeal of dismay escapes your throat as a rough hand locks around your upper arm, twisting you in place as you come face-to-face with the shorter of the two men. His mouth is twisted into a cruel smile as his free hand latches on to your other arm.

“Why you running, babe? We just want to talk?”

His face is inches from your own and his breath reeks of cigarettes as it washes over you. To his side, his taller friend wears a similar expression of cruel joy and it makes the anxiety in your stomach roil.

“Maybe you can show my friend and I here how sorry you are for being so rude to us?”

Snatching your hand free in one sharp jolt, you reach out to draw your hand across his jaw as you allow your sharp nails to score a series of lines down his cheek, the redness immediate and raw looking as the blood rushed to the area.

Howling in surprise, the man dropped his grip of your left arm as his hand flew to his face, pressing against the wound with open fingers.

“You fucking bitch!”

His hand drew back for a moment before a searing pain exploded across your lower jaw and you realise that he has struck you. The heat of the blow is stunning, and you can instantly taste copper in your mouth as your lip splits under the force of the hit. Adrenaline spiking, you raise your foot and bring it down sharply; the heel making firm contact with the tips of his toes, and the move catches him so off-guard that he drops his hold of you fully.

Resuming your sprint, the wind whips against your cheek as you move frantically through the dock, the sound of hurried footsteps and garbled obscenities hot on your heels. A wave of relief washes through you as you reach the door of the warehouse, but your hopes are short-lived as a harsh hand makes itself known against your head.

The grip in your hair is painful enough to elicit a short scream from you but it is quickly cut off as your head is thrust forward, colliding against the metal door and causing sparks to fly from behind your eyes as pain flares from the spot. Still a little stunned, you can do little to resist as your body is spun around, back pressing against the door as both men pin you there with firm hands, hard fingers digging in to your soft flesh.

“Stupid bitch.” The taller man speaks with a low growl as his hand settled along your jaw, drawing a grunt from you as his fingers disturb the tenderness there, “You’ll pay for that.”

The sensation of a hand fumbling messily at your coat buttons renews your panicked fury as you struggle in place, attempting to free your body from its pinned position as hot tears prick at your eyes and your chest heaves.

“Stop. Struggling. Cunt.” The words are hissed as a hand once again makes itself known against your scalp, pulling your hair with enough force to make you yelp as the pain blossoms across your head.

You are unable to prevent the inevitable as your coat is pulled open by rough hands, the fabric falling to the sides as a fresh well of shame rises to your cheeks when your almost naked form is exposed to their evil leers.

“Oh, I think we caught ourselves a whore, Don.” The shorter man grins, his eyes roving over your exposed chest as his fingers pluck at the thin lace of your bra strap, “You working tonight, baby?”

Lip trembling, you want nothing more than to cover yourself but with both hands pinned against the door, such a desire is unavailable and so you can do little but whimper as the free hand of the taller man ghosts over your chest.

Slipping his hand within the lace bra, fresh revulsion makes your throat tight as his disgusting fingers knead at your breast for a moment before pulling free.

“Oh, she’s a professional alright,” his words were rough, laced with sadistic joy, “you can smell it on the cunt.”

Fear and rage churn a torrid mixture within your gut and, at his words, you turn to face him fully as you use what little moisture you have left in your mouth to spit in his face.

“Fucking whore!” He recoils as your spit lands on his cheek and his retaliation is immediate as his hands dip within his jacket and pull free a small blade, the metal glinting in the low light, “Disgusting little slut.”

Pressing the blade against your stomach, blind panic seizes at your body as you suck in a sharp breath. The trembling of your fingers against the door is uncontrollable as the lump in your throat makes fresh tears spring into your eyes. Through your fear, a slight pain makes itself known and you know the blade had left a small nick in your skin, enough to serve as a warning.

The blade remains against your skin even as the shorter man drops his hold of your wrist.

“Keep the bitch there,” he grunts, his hands dropping to his slacks, “I’ve got a surprise for her.”

Blinking back the tears which were threatening to escape your eyes, you would not give these men the satisfaction of seeing your distress.

However, just as the tell-tale click of his belt unlatching sounded, a shadow emerged from the darkness behind him and a high grunt of surprise broke free of his chest as a thin arm wrapped itself around his chin and twisted his head to the side. Within seconds, his body had dropped to the floor unmoving as a syringe protruded from his exposed neck; the needle having been slammed in there and its contents deposited in one fell swoop by the man who now stood over the fallen body with a predatory stance.

Despite your fear, a frantic bubble of hope welled within you as you take in the sight of Jonathan Crane.

His usual clothing is all there, shirt and slacks covered by a pristine white lab coat, but his expression is hidden by his infamous Scarecrow mask; the burlap removing any human elements of his person as it concealed his mood and intentions.

It was the first time you had seen him wear any of his costume in person and a low whimper drew free of your throat as the taller man tightened his grip on your arm, the knife still pressed against your stomach.

“What the fuck is this?” Open panic clouded your assailants’ words, and it was clear he knew who he was dealing with from the genuine fear in his expression, “Why are you here?”

“Gotham is my city.” Distorted by the mask, Crane’s voice was almost unrecognisable, and it sent a shiver down your spine as you attempted to match it up with the man you had come to know, “I am everywhere as every shadow and darkness bends to the Scarecrow.”

“St-stay away from me,” his bravado gone, the man pulled you forward to stand between him and Crane, “leave me alone and I’ll give you girl.”

Bastard.

Even unable to see his expression, you could feel Crane’s eyes as they took in your form and a wave of shame and upset rocketed through you at how pathetic you must look in this moment.

“The girl already belongs to me,” the distorted voice spoke once again, devoid of any emotion, “as does everyone in this city. However, I will accept your cowardly bargain. Hand me the girl and we have an accord.”

Open relief flooded the expression of the man holding you as he released you from his grip, shoving at your back roughly as he pushed you towards Crane. Not expecting the shove, you stumble across the uneven ground but find your balance in Crane’s extended arm which presses against your torso almost urgently as he pushes something against you.

Glancing down, you take the simple gas mask into numb fingers as you press it against your mouth and nose. Barley a second passed before a dull thud was followed by loud hissing filling the air as a plume of orange-tinged smoke engulfed the small area and the three individuals caught within it.

A fear grenade.

You had seen his work on them in the basement.

The smoke stung at your eyes and you slammed them shut as you focused on even your breathing through the mask, desperately hoping to avoid the fate which had been decided for the bastard who attacked you. Eyes still closed, the sound of screaming cut through the cold air and you flinched at the sudden noise as loud wails and panicked grunts washed over you.

A firm hand on your shoulder makes you crack one eye open, and you can see that the smoke has dispersed as you turn to face your saviour. His mask is still on and the lack of visibility makes your heart stutter even as adrenaline continues to course through you. You hold his passive gaze for a silent moment before a fresh round of screaming draws your attention to the man on the floor.

Writhing in place as his mind conjured his every fear, the fallen form of your attacker looked very uncomfortable in the hell of his own making as you came to stand by his side. His body curled towards you, almost like instinct, and you draw your foot back to land a harsh kick to his ribs. The kick draws a low keen from his throat as he curls his body up further but the fire of revenge stokes your heart as you land another kick.

“Fucking bastard!” You hiss, teeth baring in rage even as a suspicious wetness once again threatened the corners of your eyes.

Drawing your foot back again, you deliver one final kick and this time you make sure that the target of your violence is his fear-consumed face. The ball of your foot connects harshly with his nose and a sickening crack makes itself known as blood immediately begins to spurt from his nostrils and his screaming ceases into nothing.

Unconscious.

Good.

Fuck him.

Your hands settle on the edges of your coat and your whole body shakes as you run your hands along the torn seam of the lapel. Your lip wobbles dangerously at the damage but you move past it as you fix the straps of your bra, forcing yourself to correct the mess that your attackers had left you in as you swallow down the small trickle of blood which your split lip bled into your mouth.

A loud metallic slam makes you jerk in place and you whirl around at the noise. Behind you, you just catch sight of Crane dragging the prone body of the smaller man through the warehouse door as he begins to move the bodies from the open.

Waiting patiently as he reappears, you want to thank him for his help but the words seem to stick in your throat as your trembling fingers instead move to play with the hem of your skirt.

Perhaps sensing your uncertainty, his voice is low as he speaks and the clarity of it makes you realise that he has turned off the voice modulator within his mask.

“Go inside to the basement,” the words are calm and yet they border no argument, “and wait for me there. I will move our guests indoors and then join you when I have them secured.”

Nodding even as your knees wobble at the effort of movement, you follow his instructions as you slip within the warehouse and carefully avoid the dumped body as you head towards the basement stairs.

Your feet feel heavy below you as you hear him begin to move the second body and you pause at the base of the stairs to survey the basement. It looked as typical as ever with several pages of work strewn across his desk as the shadows in the far corners of the room held what remained of his costume as it clung to the mannequin there.

Moving through the large space, you settle your gaze on the familiar metal gurney which was bolted to the floor at a nearby wall. It was a gurney which you often found yourself pinned to under his strong hands and it was a familiar space which your legs guided you towards.

The canvas across the gurney was soft as you lay your ass on it and pushed yourself up.

Now seated, you press your back against the wall as you drew your knees up to your chin. The heat from your legs is welcome against your chest and you wrap your arms around your knees as you settle into the comforting position. The shaking of your body is undeniable as is the ache across your abused flesh, from your bruised jaw to your throbbing scalp, and you take a moment just to breathe.

The vague knowledge of where you were pressed against your consciousness, and you had to admit to yourself that it was almost sad how much relief being in this familiar environment brought you. You were trapped within the lair of a different monster, but the sense of safety was undeniable.

You have no idea how long you remained in that position, time seeming to move at a questionable pace as your mind raced with the events of the evening, but your attention was soon captured by the reappearance of Crane as his heavy footfalls made their way down the basement stairs.

Watching him as he moved towards his workbench, his mask was clasped within his hands and a sigh escaped you as he dropped the mask on his chair before dipping his hands within one of the nearby drawers. Taking in the messy shock of disarray which the mask had left his hair in, you were thankful that he had neglected to keep the thing on as you took in his welcome appearance.

He approached you at a steady pace and your eyes flicked to his hand, taking in the small med-kit there for a moment before settling against his face. His expression was passive, but the signs of his rage were there, hidden in the tightness of his eyes and the thinned lips as they pressed together harshly.

You did not imagine the rage was directed at you, but the sensitivity of your emotions made you flinch away as his hand reached out for your own, your eyes darting away to look at anything but his face.

Ignoring the flinch, his hands settled on your ankles with a gentle firmness as he pulled them free of the gurney to hang in the air just above the floor. Your hands moved out to press against the canvas as he moved you to an upright position, his gaze piercing as he surveyed the damage to your face.

A small click of the med-kit opening alerted you to his intentions and you remained in place, lacking the energy to truly protest. His hands are clinical and precise as they swipe at your split lip with an antiseptic cloth, cleaning the blood there as he removed any dirt from the wound. Your tongue slips out to brush at the small wound and the sharp taste of the chemicals makes your nose crinkle.

Moving lower, his fingers make themselves known on your stomach and you jerk in position at the unexpected touch.

“You have a cut on your abdomen. It needs cleaned to prevent infection.”

In the chaos of your thoughts, you had forgotten about the knife wound and you give a pathetic nod as you relax your stomach to allow him to wipe off the small nick in the skin.

Having spoken once and broken the awkward air, he was quick to do so again.

“I heard the commotion and assumed I was being targeted,” his voice is low and confidential but there is an odd edge of discomfort to it which catches your full attention, “so I took some time to prepare my toxin and mask. Hence the delay.”

Your brow furrows slightly at the words, not understanding his point until it hits you.

It was his version of an apology.

For not helping sooner.

“I was foolish,” you answer, almost reflexively, “and I didn’t have anything with me to help. They saw a chance and took it; I should have known better. Especially at the docks.”

His hands stilled for a moment as he listened to your words.

“You cannot hope to control rabid dogs,” his tone was measured, not comforting but it had lost some of its earlier steel, “and those men were little more than parasites. No rational being can find pleasure in taking a truly unwilling soul.”

As much as you agreed with the sentiment, there was still a strangeness to hearing him confess to it out loud. Your mind flittered through the various crimes and atrocities which had been ascribed to the man before you and it struck you that for all his monstrosities, that could not be counted among them.

Your eyes met his for a moment and, as though once again sensing your thoughts, a fleeting mixture of irritation and amusement passed through his gaze as he moved from your stomach to lay his hands flat on your hips.

Pinning you with his gaze, his words were heated as his thumbs pressed into your skin.

“Rape is a tool of fear for those who are too weak to do any better. They seek power by inflicting the basest horror on their victims. Such a primal fear has no real power and is better left to the imagination. I would not sully myself to lower my standards in such a way.”

Despite the firmness of his grip, his hands are still gentle against your skin as you lean forward into his space, capturing his lips with your own in a soft kiss. The rush of adrenaline that has been holding you together is dissipating and it its wake you can feel an almost desperate need to please him as you focus on his presence. The familiar taste of him in your mouth is welcome as you latch on to the pleasant feeling, ignoring the prick of tears as they once again threaten the corners of your eyes.

Your hands claw at the lapels of his lab coat as you press your mouth against his, greedily biting at his lips despite the sting in your own as you feel his glasses pressing against the bridge of your nose. His grip is steady on your body as he stands between your spread thighs, and it tightens noticeably as your hands free his coat to dip lower and brush against the bulge of his crotch.

His lips pull full free of your own as his head settles in the crook of your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there with his sharp teeth as he growls under your ministrations. Blinking, you feel a tickle against your cheek, and you wipe away the fallen tear with the back of your hand as you press your chest against him.

One finger dips below your skirt and teases along the length of your panties as his head lowers itself to your chest; chapped lips pressing along the line of your collarbone as they trailed a pathway towards your breasts.

Your breath stutters for a moment, the noise coming out almost like a sob and, as he pulls his head back up to speak to you, the words die on his lips as he takes in your frantic and borderline distressed state.

The lustful haze in his eyes appears to almost harden as his hand pulls free from its position below your skirt and instead settles below your chin; the analytical frown which often graces his expression returning full force as his gaze pins you in place.

Whatever he finds there makes his lips twist for a moment in clear indecision before his decision comes and he moves away from your body, taking a measured step back even as you lean towards him once again.

“No,” his words are simple and firm, “not right now.”

Shame and disappointment burn at your skin as your lip trembles with the perceived rejection. Your fingers are visibly shaking as they reach out for him carelessly, clawing in the open air as desperation once again bubbles in your chest.

“I want you,” your words are soft but the strength of them is missing, “I want this.”

Stepping back between your thighs, your heaving chest presses out against him but is stopped by his hand between your breasts as his palm lays flat across the latch of your lace bra.

“What you want, I cannot give you and it is clear that you are not in a position to offer me anything I can accept.” His tone has the grace to hold a little regret, but the steel is undeniable as he refuses your advances, “What I can offer you is a mild sedative, the effects of which will last around an hour and will give you time to settle your psyche. Then we can see about our little game.”

Panic settles in your gut as you attempt to decipher any hidden meaning or intentions in his words. A sedative is what he claims to want to give you and you have no reason to doubt his words. But still, he was the wolf and you were little more than his willing prey and that dynamic could not be ignored.

His grip against your jaw, tactfully avoiding the bruised area, loosened slightly as he once again caught your attention.

“I am a patient man, witty girl,” amusement threaded his tone and touched at his gaze as he held your eyes, “and I can enjoy your temptations whenever. Take this time I offer to heal.”

Nodding your consent, you allow him to pull you from the gurney and set you on your feet as your hands make quick work of your coat, dropping it in a messy pile atop the gurney as you shiver in the cool air of the basement.

His presence is quick to disappear from your side as he strode towards his workstation and you instead head in the opposite direction, making a steady path to the old couch which took up residence against one of the far walls near his costume.

The fabric of the couch is soft below your skin and you appreciate the sensation as you patiently await the good doctor to administer your medicine. One hand is tucked within his lab coat as the other holds a syringe aloft as he approaches you, allowing you to see the sedative openly.

Taking a space as he seats himself on the couch by your side, he extends his hand expectantly and you place the back of your wrist within it. His fingers are as steady and clinical as ever as he taps your forearm, searching for a perfect entry point, before depositing the full amount in your system. The needle was so fine you barely felt it and the slight burn of the medicine as it enters your bloodstream forces you to release a sigh while he discards the syringe on the arm of the couch.

As he stands, he pulls his lab coat free of his body and you reach a hand out and wrap it around his wrist to halt him from moving away.

“Stay with me,” you ask, forcing a tone of nonchalance despite your real desire to not be left alone, “just until the sedative kicks in.”

To your surprise, he relents and retakes his seat on the couch.

Feeling bolstered by his apparent generosity, you incline your body to the side as you pull your legs up on the couch and angle your head so that it lay flat against the thin expanse of his thighs.

You feel his muscles tense below you for a moment and you prepare for the rejection, but it never comes as he instead snatches up a nearby psychiatric journal and turns to one of the many ear-marked pages as he balances the journal on his lab coat.

The sedative is doing its job well and you feel your body loosening as it forces your muscles to relax. A low shiver wracks your frame as your bra and skirt do little to fend off the cool air of the basement. Your jacket was still atop the gurney and your legs were in no position to be travelling to collect it.

Your concerns were solved by a sudden movement on his part as he snatched up the lab coat from his lap and dropped it over your prone body, allowing you to hook your fingers along the edges of it and pull it over you like a blanket.

“Thanks,” your words are sincere but drowsy as your thoughts become woozy, “for everything.”

His answer is little more than a grunt.

“What will you do with them?”

Even as you ask it, the question catches you by surprise and his head tilts down, catching your eyes with his sharp gaze.

“Your assailants will not survive the week.” His tone is firm and unflinching, the words holding no apology, “I will use them as test subjects for my new toxin variant and if they do not die under the experimentation then I will dispose of them manually.”

Eyes fluttering shut, you focus on the lull of his voice as he continues to speak.

“Does that bother you?”

Curiosity colours his words and you fight the fog of your mind as you consider your answer. Guilt is the furthest thing from your mind as you imagine both of your attackers screaming under the torments of the Scarecrow; their screams that much different to the screams which he often drew from your own lungs.

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you give him an honest answer.

“No.”

And with that confession, you surrender yourself to the becoming darkness as the sedative wins out and lulls you into sleep.

Full fic available on AO3

[shorkbrian]

Bad Vibrations

Prelude - You know those stories that like you read and then the ending is like “but it was all a DrEaM”? yeah this is that but in reverse. Also keep in mind that Shindo is an individual who keeps up a very polished outer appearance, very different underneath the surface. Bakugou saw through it; Shindou’s a little faker for the public just saying

Pairing - Shindo Yo X Reader

Prompt - Shindo but noncon

Warnings - NSFW, stalker Shindo, non con, dub con, graphic, vibrations (ofc), crying, idk, y’all should know by now that there aint nothing good going on in these here parts.

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/4FeWr4OsidcJClBjUEBHWI?si=Ea026PEQSX2vsQFf8AKkZw

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You wake up to a hand over your mouth, a weight across your waist.

It’s still dark, your bedroom window open and leaking cool air into your room.

There’s a figure above you, straddling your waist, eyes glinting through the darkness. It’s a man, you determine, with his unruly hair, muscled build and the rough “shhhh” noise he makes, his hand tightening over your mouth as you fully awaken.

“Mmh!” You whine, panic flushing through your body. Who is this? Why is he here? Oh god, are you going to die?

“If I take my hand off, can you be good?”

His voice is soft, barely above a whisper. The man doesn’t seem to be a threat from his body language, the smooth rhythm of his voice, even though he’s apparently broken into your house, into your bedroom. 

You nod your head. As soon as your mouth is free, you’re begging quietly.

“Please don’t hurt me, please.”

“Shhh, I wouldn’t dream of such a thing.” The man cooed, a hand cupping the side of your face. Odd. “I just want you to be good, okay? You can do that for me, right?”

What does he mean? You suppose your puzzled face clues him into your confusion, because the man chuckles lowly.

“Aw, don’t worry… I know you don’t have a clue who I am, but that’s okay - it’s not your fault. I’m Shindo, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you, everything’s fine.”

The man was so soothing, if he wasn’t pinning you to your bed with his bodyweight, maybe you wouldn’t be shivering with fear. You couldn’t think straight, mind still foggy with sleep, all you could do was blink up at the man-Shindo.

“I’m tired of watching, I just want a little taste, y’know? You looked so pretty earlier, like a little treat.”

Your eyes widened, and your body tensed. What was he—? Had he been watching you? What did he mean by /earlier/? Your mind flitted back to what you were doing before you drifted off to sleep, and you immediately flushed. An electric toothbrush had been pressed to your cunt, over your panties, the vibrations ever so slight as you writhed under your own hand. You had never messed with toys before, too intimidated by all the different choices, the names, the reviews. Plus, the actual act of buying them was mortifying, even if you could just order one from Amazon - what if it showed up in a package clearly outlining what it was? What if your neighbors saw?

“Don’t be shy, I know it felt good, I mean, it certainly looked good.” Your attention was pulled back to the present, to the man-Shindo sitting on top of you. He was grinning, a small hint of teeth showing. Your heart hammered in your chest - you we’re going to die. This man was going to rape you, then kill you. 

“Please, there’s-there’s money in the drawer, you can have it a-“

Shindo surged forward, capturing your mouth in a kiss, cutting you off mid-sentence. You squeaked, rearing backwards, but he followed, pressing his lips so firmly to your own that you felt like he was trying to worm his way inside. You tried to turn your head, shocked, scared, but a hand grabbed your chin with an iron grip, freezing you in place. It hurt.

A moment passed, then two, and you were fully panicking now, chest heaving, hands flailing. Shindo separated himself from you with a quiet, wet smack, barely pulling away from your lips before leaning back down to kiss your nose. The hand holding your chin relaxed.

“Don’t fight, just be good. I’ll treat you nice, okay? Don’t make me upset baby.” His voice had a sharp edge to it, and you had the immediate sense of mind to commit to doing what he said - you figured if you didn’t, you might not live to file a police report. You nodded shakily, tears brimming in your eyes. This couldn’t be happening. 

Shindo smiled at your nod, patting your cheek lovingly, before another kiss was planted to the tip of your nose. “Good. Now, we’re going to get to the fun stuff, what do you say?”

It was a rhetorical question, the man not even waiting for a response before he was tugging at your shirt, almost ripping it as he pulled it up and over your chest, whistling as your bare chest was revealed. “Damn baby, you’re delicious.”

You flushed, hands twitching uselessly at your sides. You shouldn’t, you couldn’t fight, he’d hurt you. You just needed to stay still and quiet, let him do what he wanted, let him take what he wanted. It was going to be fine. You could do it.

Abandoning your shirt after he bunched it underneath your arms, the man immediately palmed at your chest, hands warm, soft. The chill of the night air plus his interest in your nipples had the small buds peaking almost immediately, stiff and upright. Shindo gave a quiet, pleased huff, before thumbing over your nipples, closely watching your face for a reaction. You turned to the side, determined to not give him one. Maybe if you just stayed still, didn’t engage, he’d get bored and hurry up, fuck off into the night and back from where he came.

A wet, searing heat enclosed your right nipple, and you gasped, arcing at the foreign sensation. A glance downward showed Shindo with his mouth around your tit, brown eyes hooded, twinkling up at you. You turned your face to the side again, shooting a hand up to bite down onto your fist as the man started sucking. It felt good, a dull pressure pulling at your breast, making you want to arch your back and push further into the man’s mouth. 

He stayed there for a moment, sucking quietly, before quickly switching to your other tit, immediately bringing his hand up to palm softly at the spit-slicked nipple he’d just abandoned. You whined into your fist, it felt good, why did it feel good? It shouldn’t, this was wrong.

Shindo switched again, one hand always kneaded the breast not held up to his mouth. He kept his tongue busy, playing with your nipple, laving hotly over your skin, sucking bruises into the sensitive flesh of your breast. You could’ve sworn that his tongue vibrated a couple times when it passed over your nipple, but maybe that was just the intense shaking from your body.

You were so stressed, so scared, your body was practically vibrating in fear - you were shivering so hard you felt like you were going to throw up. 

The man quickly got bored, detaching from your breast to shuffle down further, stripping the sheet away from your body as he did so. The tears that you had successfully held back so far came rolling down your cheeks as he gripped the waistband of your pajama pants. When you couldn’t quiet a sob, the man’s brown eyes flickered up, away from where he was peeling the pants down, barely pulling it past your belly button.

“Hey, don’t cry, I told you I wasn’t going to hurt you, like, three times. I’ll be gentle, I know how to treat my girl right.” He soothed, but his words just made you cry harder. 

He clicked his tongue, before crawling up to flop down next to you, laying on his side, facing you. You closed your eyes, the intensity of his gaze too much for you to handle, muffled cries wracking your body. You couldn’t do this, he was going to rape you, this can’t happen.

Thumbs wiped at your face, rubbing your tears away. “You know, it’s kinda hard for me to get it up when you’re laying here crying like that, so I’m going to need you to stop.”  

You kept your eyes closed, wanting to convince yourself this was just some bad dream, you could wake up, this wasn’t happening. A sharp pinch to your cheek had you giving a small cry, eyes snapping open to see his face inches from your own.

“Don’t fucking ignore me, I’m being fucking nice. You want that to change?” He growled, making you flinch. The whiplash from the personality change had you confused, lips quivering as you burst out into a fresh wave of tears, quickly trying to wipe them away. This man was dangerous. 

Seeing you try to rectify your crying, Shindo backed away, offering you a comforting smile. “See? It’s not so hard. God, you’re perfect for me, so obedient.”  His voice was sickeningly sweet again, nothing like the vicious growl it had been not ten even ten seconds ago. It was terrifying, the man was unhinged. 

There was a quick press of his lips against yours again, before he was resuming his position by your lower half, busying himself with pulling your pajama pants off.

The second they passed your hips, revealing your bare pussy to his gaze, Shindo groaned out a curse, body sagging. Your pajama pants were quickly ripped the rest of the way off, leaving you completely exposed. 

You wanted to cover yourself from his searing gaze, but something told you the the man wouldn’t like that - he might hurt you for trying - so you twisted them into the sheets by your head, anchoring yourself in the physical sensation that it provided you.

Shindo looked up, sticking his fingers in his mouth as he did so. You watched him suck on them, swirling his tongue around the digits before taking them out, absolutely drenched with his spit.

“You’re gonna like this part.”

Before you could ask what he meant by that, before you could even /think/, those fingers were pressed against your pussy, smushed up against your clit. The sensation from that lone had you breathing in quickly, closing your eyes. When the vibrations started, you almost screamed.

Your eyes flew open, mouth open in a silent cry, hips bucking uncontrollably both towards and away from the vibrating fingers. It felt so good it hurt, the vibrations hitting deep, buzzing and rumbly, so fast and heavy that you couldn’t think, you couldn’t even breath.

Shindo laughed, eyes dark as he watched you writhe on his fingers, slowly starting to rub them over your clit, along your labia, moving up to press hard against your mons pubis, which mad the vibrations go so impossibly deep, you choked on a moan, eyes rolling back into your head. The feeling was incredible, it was too much and not enough all at the same time,  like nothing you had ever felt before. 

He played with you like that, you don’t even know for how long. It could’ve been a second, it could’ve been an hour. All you knew is that it felt good, that you wanted more, that you couldn’t stop your hips from trying to grind down against his head. And then he was pulling back the hood that protected your sensitive clit, using a finger to flick at the bud, and you were sobbing through an orgasm.

“Please! Oh god, stop, stop! It-it hurts, no more, please!” You cried, the pleasure quickly breaching into overstimulated pain as he ghosted over your clit. It hurt, sharp pain, the buzzing reaching into your thighs, and you didn’t know if it would ever stop.

Then, it did, and you almost cried in relief, collapsing against the bed in a gasp, sweaty and breathless. 

You think some time passed, enough for SHindo to strip out of his clothes, because when you next opened your eyes (when had you closed them?) the man was naked, watching you. 

He had his fist loosely wrapped around his cock, his long, veiny cock, already shining with precum. He was stroking slowly, seemingly content to watch the rise and fall of your chest as you tried to regain your breath, the glistening wet of your pussy clenching between your legs. 

Your eyes met his, those brown, glinting daggers, slitted dangerously as they watched you. “Mm, feel good pretty? I knew it would. Just gotta let me take care of you… I can make you feel even better.”

“I don’t….” You whispered, your sentence trailing off. You didn’t want to do this, but could you even say no? Would he hurt you?

Shindo didn’t hear you, or if he did, he didn’t acknowledge you. He leaned forward, letting go of his cock to situate himself between your thighs. You cringed when his wet hand brushed against your leg, pulling it up and over his elbow, opening you up to him.

This was so gross, his cock was leaking all over the place, and he was going to put it inside you, you were going to vomit.

“Let me in, let me treat you nice.” He cooed, tapping the tip of his cock sweetly against your clit, almost mocking you. You jerked on each tap, body shaking hard again. 

Then he shifted, dipping down so he could line his cock up, slip it inside quickly, before you could move or wiggle backwards.

You couldn’t think about anything other than the solid heat filling you, pushing into your stomach, stretching you past the point of comfort. You had to bear down, relaxing your pussy around him so it didn’t hurt as much. He was long, and thick, and it hurt - was it supposed to hurt?

Shindo cursed again, his hand quickly patting along the bed before he found your own, immediately clenching it tight within his grasp. 

“Baby, you feel so nice, clenching like that around me. Been waiting so long for this, was gonna do something all dramatic and romantic like flowers and candles…. I just couldn’t wait any longer.”

He was completely inside, stilling as his hips came into contact with your skin, panting above you.

“Been watching you for a while, you’re real dumb, I followed you home in plain sight several times. I even broke in a few times, stole some stuff.”

Your eyes were wide, staring up at the man above you with your mouth open. This was too much to process all at once, the physical sensation, the information being dumped on you. 

Shindo continued “It was nothing big, just some panties and other little things here and there. You didn’t mind though, you never even noticed it was missing.” You had noticed some stuff go ‘missing’ but you had just chalked it up to your own faults, loosing your favorite necklace, misplacing towels, forgetting where you put your underwear after you folded it.

“You’re a little dumb, but that’s okay baby, I don’t mind. It’s kinda cute, y’know? Although it would’ve been nice for you to at least recognize me - I’m not in the top ten, but I’m still a pretty good hero.”

Wait, hero? You looked up at the man, scanning his face. He didn’t look like any hero you had seen on the news. He caught your suspicious gaze, his brow furrowing, a deep frown appearing on his face. 

“What, you really don’t get the fuck who I am?” He snapped, the hand holding your own flashing towards your throat, fighting around your skin, cutting off your air. “I’ll give you a little hint.”

The cock inside of you vibrated, just like his fingers had.

You choked behind the hand cutting off your airway, thrashing under the man over you. The cock kept vibrating, but the hand let off your throat, letting you gulp in deep breaths. 

“This ring any bells?” His voice was light again. You wanted to cry, he was moody, volatile, scary. You couldn’t do this - you could feel his lightly vibrating cock leaking inside of you, whether you could actually feel it or not, just the mental image was making you sick. 

“I-I don’t know who you are..” You tried, voice slightly scratchy. “I just wanna stop, please? I won’t tell anyone, please, if you’re a hero…. This isn’t right.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Fine. I gave a plenty of chances.” The mean cut in his voice was back, and that’s all you could notice before his hips were pulling back, cock sucking out of you, before it plunged back inside.

It was vibrating even more intensely, like it was shaking your inside, and you couldn’t think past the quickly building thrusts, the man sweating and groaning above you, hand gripping your leg tightly. You couldn’t breathe.

“No, I don’t want this, it-it feels weird! I can’t—!” You squealed, Shindo unrelenting as he rolled his hips into you, grinning.

“I dunno, feels good to me.”

You moaned on his next thrust, the vibrations bringing you to the edge, too fast, too intensely. You felt like you were speeding towards it, and then you were falling over it, shaking on his cock as you came, clenching your teeth.

“Fuck, fuck baby, feel so good!” He didn’t let up, didn’t give you a second, just kept thrusting, leaning down to push his tongue into your mouth, his spit going everywhere. It was too much, you couldn’t take it, you just came!

“Shin-do! No, too - mmhm - much! Plea-se, too-too m-ah! Ah, ah, ah!” You moaned, embarrassed at the sounds tumbling out of your mouth as you ripped your head away from his slime tongue, but yet you couldn’t stop yourself as you whined.

“Nn, you’ve got such a tight little cunt, perfect - ah! - for my cock.” His thrust sped up, the vibrations getting stronger inside of you, and you threw your head back, squealing, bucking your hips, thrashing - anything to get away.

But his grip was unrelenting, as was the quickening slap of his hips against yours, his thick balls swinging to clap against your ass lewdly. You couldn’t get away, he was going to cum inside, you couldn’t make it stop.

“Oh, baby - haah - keep moving like that, you’re milking my cock, feels so good.” He moaned, dipping down to pant against your neck. You cried out, trying to still, trying not to egg him on. You just wanted this to be over, you could hardly think with the pleasant, intense buzzing in your pussy, the solid, warm cock filling you up, pushing you past your limits.

And then you were gone, screaming into another orgasm, loosing yourself to the sensation.

----

You wake up to your covers tucked around your chin, safely snuggled into your pillows.

It’s light, your bedroom window open and leaking the sun into your room.

You go to stretch, reaching your arms above your head, only to pause at the unrelenting ache in your back, the horrible tight soreness between your legs. It-it wasn’t a nightmare.

It was real.

[kaepop-trash]

Going for one of those touchless car wash drive thrus and betting with johnny who can make the other cum faster 🙈

I’m hitting that area again where I hate everything I write. But my new year’s resolution was to not be stagnated by my need for perfection. So I am posting this. I hope you like it.

-

"Between this ice cream and my coffee," She snorted, the melting ice cream making her gurgle. "I'm going to be so jittery by the time we get home." She lifted her head to stop any ice cream from coming out of her mouth while she spoke.

Johnny laughed, resisting the urge to turn to look at her while he took a turn at an intersection. "Why did you get both?" He questioned. There was a pause, and the slowly moving traffic gave him the opportunity to turn to look at her. Ice cream on one corner of the mouth, she stared out of the windshield with deep contemplation.

"You know." She turned to look at Johnny, "I'm not so sure." She confessed.

Johnny bit back a smile.

"I just." She clicked her tongue, "The sign outside the ice cream store said labour weekend cherry, blueberry ice cream and you know how much I love cherries." Johnny gave her a nod that made her grin.

"But then you also got the piping hot coffee from the store beside it that is now getting cold." He looked towards the untouched cup that sat beside his half finished one in the cup holder.

She stared at the cup for a second, grinding her teeth. Then she shook her head, "It's fine." She reassured with an affirmative nod, taking a spoonful of her ice cream. "I can indulge in both." She mumbled with the spoon in her mouth. “If the coffee gets a little cold, it is what it is.” She shrugged.

Johnny gave her a soft chuckle, warmth spreading in his chest from the content smile on her face.

When they stopped at another light, a touch of cold against his lips made Johnny push back with a jerk. He turned to find her sticking her ice cream spoon close to his lips.

"Have some." She offered. She stuck the spoon closer, the cold ice cream rubbing off on his lip. She bit back a smile.

He parted his lips and licked the little bit off his lip before wrapping them around the spoon. When her exhale came out sharper than either of them anticipated, he turned to lock his eyes with her, smirking against the spoon. She dragged the spoon out, his bottom lip tugging against it.

"It's nice." Johnny mumbled. “I’ll just get the car washed and we’ll go home okay?” Johnny asked when he remembered the task he had set for today.

She turned back to her cup and hummed, the sound voicing her distraction clearly. Johnny grinned to himself.

"Another spoon?" She questioned and Johnny hummed, not looking away from the road. 

"Last one though." He tilted his head towards her a little as she reached out with a spoonful of ice cream. "We have to go to that office barbecue tonight and I don't want to get too comfortable. Once this long weekend is over, it's back to the gym." He sighed, taking a bite of the ice cream and humming pleasantly.

She chuckled, "It's good right?" Johnny nodded, a grin forming on his lips. "Don't worry about exercising now.” She groaned, “I'm the only one who sees you naked anyway." She scoffed, "I hope." She added the jab.

Johnny grinned at the road, "There's also the physician who does my annual physical. Need to keep her impressed." He teased. They finally drove into the carwash after making their way through the holiday traffic.

"Why? Did your firm stop giving you healthcare?" She raised a brow. 

Johnny laughed with raw delight, his eyes turning into upturned commas. "You know I always aim to please." He turned to her and winked. 

She scoffed with disbelief, "Where was this attitude when Haechan stayed over a few weeks back and you literally wouldn't let him sleep." She clicked her tongue.

Johnny opened his mouth in shock, trying to hold back a smile. "You're the one who can't keep quiet!" He protested. “I pleased you just fine.” He reminded her, "The poor guy had to go live with Mark because of just how pleased you were. Something Mark wasn't happy about I assure you." He said the words like he was talking about the weather, with conversational ease.

She gasped loudly, "I am not loud! You knew exactly what you were doing, Johnny Suh.” Johnny laughed as if to confirm her accusations.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He shrugged, reaching for his cup.

“No?” She narrowed her eyes. “Am I not with a man who enjoys being a whore with the possibility of spectators?” 

Johnny choked on his coffee, making her laugh. She also reached out to rub his back, with a wince and a mumbled apology when he kept coughing. He gave her a look that was somewhere between humour and defeat.

“Are you okay?” She tried to swallow her giggles unsuccessfully. “You know I’m right.” She added with a softer voice.

Johnny took a deep breath after his coughs subsided, letting out a short laugh. “You’re going to kill me, (Y/N).” He smiled, resting his head against his seat. 

The car in front of theirs finally moved inside for its wash to begin.

“I can’t believe you called me a whore.” Johnny chuckled.

“I believe you’ve called me worse.” She reminded him.

Johnny shrugged, “That’s fair. And I guess I am your whore, so it’s not untrue.” He smirked.

She hummed, “Good boy.” The look he gave her made her curl her lips and her toes together.

She turned away from his sudden charged gaze, “This is going to take forever, Johnny. I want to go home and take a nap.” She whined.

“Your nap can wait.” He responded, his brows creasing when he realised something, “You woke up at noon, why do you want a nap?” He sat back in his seat and raised a brow at her.

“Do I?” She rubbed her cheeks against palm.

She shrugged, finally finishing her ice cream and reaching for her coffee. “Why not?” She made a face at the cup, the now room temperature coffee tasting borderline unpleasant. “Your office parties always go on too long and your boss always refuses to let you leave. I’m using this week to catch up on sleep so don’t question it.” She grumbled, a soft pout forming on her face. She stretched in her seat like the conversation reminded her that she was tired, yawning softly. The action illiciting affection in him.

Johnny gave her a tender stare, “We always leave any social gathering the moment your battery runs out.” He reminded her, reaching out to stroke her hair. “You even have a signal.” He smiled when she nuzzled into his touch.

Johnny hummed and nodded, “You tug on my sleeve and sit against me.” He laughed softly, remembering all the times it happened. “It’s very cute.”

She gave him a cheeky grin, “I am adorable, yes.” 

Johnny laughed. When their car finally moved towards the wash she let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m hungry.” She mumbled, reaching up to tug at his fingers and play with them mindlessly as she turned to frown at the slowly proceeding queue.

“You’re a lot of things today, it seems.” Johnny pestered.

She turned to him with another pout, “Don’t sass me.” She scolded him with a finger pointed at his chest. She let go of his hand, making him pout this time from disappointment. She sat up in her seat with new-found energy, “You know that fish we had last month? With lemon preserve I think?” Johnny nodded, remembering the anniversary dinner well, every part of it. “I’m craving it so bad!” She whined again. 

Johnny bit his lips as the spray of soap covered the car in spuds.

“I’ll make you a deal.” He whispered slowly, the low rumble of his voice making heat pool in her stomach— a conditioned response.

“What?” Her voice dropped in its volume too, turning to his indulgent smirk.

“Come here.” He spread his legs wider on the seat.

She groaned, the sound one of defeat. Sitting up, she gingerly moved across to do what he asked. “Whore.” She mumbled.

“Johnny.” She wanted her voice to sound like a warning, but the breathless hush that came out instead did everything but mediate the tension building in the car. 

It was truly hard to resist him.

Johnny hummed, “The one who cums first buys lunch alright? If you win we can get the fish. If I win, I'm craving a good burger.” She nodded, eyes fluttering shut as he ran his fingers through his hair. “We have to be fast though, princess.” A soft laugh left him as she nodded dutifully, reaching out to undo his pants. “They might ban me from getting my car washed here if we get caught and the other place ruined the car’s paint the one time I went there.” Johnny’s head fell back when she grabbed his shaft, a groan dissolving the last of his words.

“Stop talking about your car.” She huffed, “I thought you were in a hurry.” She tilted his head back with her other hand in his hair, reaching down to kiss his jaw.

“Take off your shorts.” He tugged on the band with a finger.

She smiled against his neck, “This is a competition, baby.” She cooed. “What makes you think I’m going to make this easier for you? Work with what you have, Johnny.”

“Such a wretched girl,” Johnny huffed. “Fine.” Johnny groaned, dragging his finger to the buttons of her shorts and flicking it open, “I’m perfectly capable of doing this with a hand.” It was a challenge, his eyes oozed it as he kept them focused on her eyes and put two fingers into his mouth. He licked them with precision, the other on her back pulled her closer. 

She bit down on her lip, clenching around nothing. “I would have done that for you.” She licked her lips. Johnny smiled, popping the fingers out of his mouth.

He was, without a shadow of a doubt, right about his single hand being very capable; but she wasn’t in the mood to lose. She gripped him tight and Johnny winced, bucking up from the seat. In retaliation, Johnny took the liberty of plunging two fingers deep inside her. Her legs twitched, a loud groan leaving her lips. She increased her pace immediately, the car filling with sounds that made her blush.

“Shit.” Johnny breathed out. “Look at how you’re clenching around me, (Y/N). Reminds me of the first time I fucked you with my fingers.” He hummed against her forehead. She mewled at the memory, clenching tighter around his fingers. “I was already whipped for you then.” He sighed when she rubbed circles on his tip.

“Fuck.” She breathed out, his words seemingly more effective than his masterful fingers. She did remember that time, almost too well. The memory of the humid car and the tropical heat making her hips buck. Johnny let out a victorious chuckle.

She bit down on his ear, making him twitch in her hand as she expected. “Come one, Johnny.” She urged with a delicate whisper, “Don’t hold back.” She winced when he curled his fingers inside her as punishment for her coaxing. She kept up her persistence anyway, “You’re the one who loves this don’t you? Knowing someone can catch us like this any moment.” She poked her tongue out, leaving a kitten lick on the shell of his ear. Johnny groaned in response, the sound vibrating in her chest and making her certain that she would either lose the bet or go insane trying to win.

“Yes.” Johnny confessed. She shivered at the ease he did it with.

“What is it about it?” She questioned. The car moved forward to get washed down— the last step of the process. The sudden jerk forward made her chest slam into his. His fingers pushed further in at the jerk, making her moan loudly.

She took a deep breath, “Do you want people to watch? Want them to see what you do to me?” She hummed, the words forced through her teeth.

Johnny put his head against the seat, a sigh leaving his lips. Moment’s later she felt his release coat her fingers, looking down with a victorious smile.

“If you cum now, I’ll let you fuck me tonight."

"Shit." Johnny groaned at her words.

"Surely make a party with finance people more fun, huh?” She giggled. She was pumping him so fast now that his own fingers faltered inside her, something she would have complained about if she wasn’t so focused on winning the bet this time.

“That was cheating.” He groaned, she looked back up at his devastatingly handsome face, laced in the aftermath of her work. He took shallow breaths, lips parted and one eye looking at her.

“That was negotiating.” She leaned forward to peck his lips, pulling back to take in the fucked out look on his face. He pulled his fingers out with a wet pop, a soft mewl leaving her lips from the sudden emptiness.

“You don’t deserve to cum for being conniving.” He was still panting, pulling her closer to kiss her. She whined against his lips at the punishment, smacking his chest when she pushed back. “We’re also out of time.” He whispered against her lips. On cue the loud buzz sounded, signalling the end of the wash.

“Fine.” She sighed, pulling off his body and sitting back on the passenger’s seat. She turned to look at him, making sure his eyes were on her, then she licked her fingers clean of his release with lazy precision.

“Fuck.” The word stuttered out of his lips as he tucked himself back into his jeans.

“I told you I was hungry.” She hummed against her fingers.

“You’re making it real tough to think about lunch when you do that.” He mumbled.

“Good.” She gave him an innocent smile, “Let’s go, we’re done.” She pointed at the now visible street at the end of the wash. “I earned that fish.”

-

Send me an ask about a character from one of my fics in a scenario and I'll write a drabble.

Character from: Unintended Consequences

[trashyswitch]

Two Minds Think Alike

Vanny had just welcomed this stranger, William, into her head: a beige bunny with a shady past. As she tries to understand who they are and what their motives are, she discovers a fun little secret about her new bunny friend.

This fanfic was suggested by @trashylever on Tumblr. This is my first lee!Glitchtrap fanfic! So trashylever, and everyone else, I hope you enjoy!

Vanny was still trying to get used to there being more people in her head than just...herself. He kinda just introduced himself, said ‘I need a home’ and embedded himself into Vanny’s brain without a proper introduction. She didn’t even know who he was. And yet here he is: living in her head. If she’s gonna learn to live with him, she’s gonna have to get to know him.

Vanny closed her eyes and pushed herself deeper into her head. There, she saw the bunny being that had joined her head. Vanny decided to start off like all exchanges do: with names.

“So...Do you...have a name besides Glitchtrap?” Vanny asked. “Or something less mysterious than…’Malhare’?” Vanny asked, using quotations.

The being turned to her with a tired, bored face. “...Afton.” He replied.

Afton? Wait...Why did that name sound strangely familiar?

“Is that...a first name? Or a last name?” Vanny asked.

The bunny groaned and got up. “William. William Afton. Happy?” they spat at her.

Vanny raised her eyebrows. This person’s got quite the attitude. They sound pissed...over a need for a name. “Yes, thank you.” Vanny shot back.

The being looked at her before looking away.

“Are...Are you gonna ask me for a name? Or am I supposed to just give you a name?” Vanny asked.

The guy...William...looked at her from the corner of their eye and looked back down again. “You’re a teenage girl. That’s all I need to know.” the person said.

Vanny sighed and sat down on the ground. “Great...I’m expected to live with THIS-” She pointed to the bunny in front of her, “-For the rest of my life.” Vanny muttered out loud.

The bunny sighed. “Life isn’t fair, sunshine.” They muttered.

Vanny widened her eyes and turned to the bunny with a frown. “Excuse me?!” she walked right up to the bunny and pushed them down with her foot. “Just who do you think you are?!”

The bunny looked up at her with a frown. Then, they scoffed. “Try looking up my name. That’ll give you a pretty good idea.” they spat with a dangerous look in their eyes. Vanny growled and left her mind.

Vanny opened her eyes and hopped onto her phone. She typed the name ‘William Afftin’ into the search bar.

[A-f-t-o-n. AfTON.] the bunny corrected.

Vanny sighed and fixed the name. ‘William Afton’. She clicked the search button and watched as tons of links showed up right away. Tons of links about ‘child killer’, ‘The Man Behind The Slaughter’ and ‘Fazbear Entertainment’ came up. Vanny’s expression turned from annoyed to surprised in a single second. Child killer? Child killer?

She clicked one of the links. This brought up pictures of happy kids, and blurred images of their corpses beside the happy images. They were mostly aged 5 to age 10! Names of previously missing children filled her brain as she read them: Charlie...Cassidy...Fritz...Gabriel...Jeremy… And Susie.

[They were interesting kids. Somewhat ignored by the adults there. No one even noticed they went missing until they got home. Stupid people…] The bunny told her.

Vanny widened her eyes. Holy...How did he-

Vanny scrolled down and looked at the other pictures that came up. There were photos taken of...suits?

[Animatronics. Big robots with endoskeletons and programming designed for anything you want. In this instance, they were disguised as animals and made for kids entertainment. We were the talk of the town at the time! Freddy Fazbear and the Band. Kids loved it.] The bunny explained.

Freddy Fazbear- WAIT A SECOND! “That VR Video Game was based on real life?!” Vanny reacted.

[Yup. That game itself was Fazbear Entertainment’s way of saving their tarnished reputation of child-killing machines. Every entertainment spot the Fazbear company opened, ended up with at least one child or person killed from robot malfunctions.] The bunny explained.

Vanny frowned as she looked at the missing kids. “It wasn’t just robot malfunctions...It was murders too.” Vanny mentioned. “You were the cause of those murders! You killed up to 5 children!” Vanny reacted.

[Yup. Indeed I did.] The bunny replied.

Vanny huffed as she put her phone down and went into her head again. “Why?” She asked. “Did you know them personally? Why would you specifically choose to kill them?” She asked.

“Does it matter?” The bunny asked as they stood up. “I just did.” they replied.

Vanny looked at the bunny. “You’re not a bunny. I wanna see what you really look like.” Vanny told them.

William sighed and closed their eyes. “There’s plenty of images on the World Wide Web to give you a good picture.” they told her.

“I don’t want to use the internet. I wanna see you. The real you.” She told them. “That is, if your former self was programmed into your code.” Vanny mentioned.

William rolled his eyes. “I have no former self anymore. This is it. I’m a glitch shown as a bunny.” William explained.

“You know technology has advanced enough to change your appearance, right?” Vanny mentioned.

William gave her a dirty look. “Well maybe,” William walked closer to Vanny. “Someone didn’t put that into account when programming me into the fucking game!” William spat at her. Then, he leaned his head back a bit. “I’m afraid this is as close as you’re gonna get.” William turned around and walked away.

Vanny let out heavy breaths as she processed the words hidden under his overwhelmingly rude attitude. Despite not actually being responsible for how William’s brain and personality was handled, Vanny still felt hurt by his words. This man, who was once a physical being, is now stuck inside a girl’s head. Even worse: a teenage girl’s head.

Vanny closed her eyes and frowned as she looked at him. “Why…”

William hummed and tilted his head as he looked at pictures hidden in her head.

“Why choose me...of all people?” Vanessa asked.

William smiled a little at that question. He turned around and looked at her with purple, glowing eyes. “Because your curiosities can lead you down a really dark path if you let it.” William told her. “...And maybe I can help you with that.” William offered.

Vanny widened her eyes and stared at the bunny in both horror and awe.

William chuckled at her reaction. “The internet has offered you endless chances to satisfy your curiosities and yet…” William looked at their own hand. “You stop yourself.”

Vanny bit her lip and lifted her head up. “W-Well...that kind of job takes a lot of work to clean and cover up.” Vanny admitted. “And I don’t want the police finding out about my internet searches. They could see me as a suspect.” She added.

William chuckled at the last part. “There are always incognito modes.” William reminded her. “And as a guy who’s been there and done that, I will help you through all the steps. But only if you agree…” William offered.

Vanny’s awe-struck face shrunk down as she backed away. No...No she shouldn’t! She’s worked this hard trying to make a life for herself! She can’t ruin that now!

William hummed and waved their index finger. “Mmm...there’s that doubt. There’s the part of you that’s trying to return back to normal life.” William pointed out. “But that normalcy will not satisfy that instinct inside you. I’ve tried. Eventually, it found a crack and broke right through it. You’ll be better off starting early than spending your life trying to hide it. After all: Therapy always teaches you to let it out rather than shove it inside you.” William explained.

Vanny considered correcting him, but realised that he was still staying true to the facts. So, she let him talk more.

William walked closer to Vanny and gave her a charming, yet sadistic kind of smile. “You and I have something special in common: you and I both wanted to know things only the dark part of the web could provide you.” William said. “I’ve already answered all my curiosities. But you...You’re waiting to get your full answers. The world tells you to stay true to the law...yet your instincts tell you otherwise...” William explained. He started taking steps back.

“Besides: you gotta remember that everyone only has one life. It’s why I’ve been prolonging my life for as long as I have!” William explained. He spun himself around, sprinted up to Vanny and grabbed her shoulders. “Look at me! I’m in my triple digits now! I should be long dead! But I’m not! I’ve cheated death!” William declared with genuine excitement. “And now I have a chance to restart my killing spree...with a new body, and a loyal partner...something I lacked the first time.” William said eagerly.

Vanny smiled at the thought.

“So:” William held out his hand. “Will you be my new partner in crime?” William asked.

Vanny’s smile grew. It was a hard offer to resist. She’s been wanting to do this for so long. And now, she actually has the chance! Finally, after some thought, Vanny nodded and shook his hand. “I’d love to.” Vanny replied.

The two of them spent some time determining their action plans. With just a few google searches, William and Vanny were able to find a new Fazbear Mall that was opening up. And as luck would have it, they were hiring! So, Vanny pulled up her resume. With William’s previous business experience, he helped her sort out her slightly jumbled resume and cover letter. Before they knew it, the resume and the cover letter was sent to the business email. Now, all they had to do was wait.

While they waited, Vanny snuck back into her brain and looked at the bunny with curious eyes. “So...William Afton.” Vanny walked up and poked his shoulder. “What’s your little secret?” She asked.

William looked at her with confusion. “What do you mean ‘secret’?” William clarified.

“My deep secret is that I like really dark things. And I know you do too. But do you have another little secret you’d like to share?” Vanny asked.

William raised their eyebrows and smiled a little. “Like I’d ever share any secrets with you…”

Vanny frowned a bit. “Well, it’s only fair.” She told them. “Plus: we’re living with each other. I gotta know at least a few things about you.” She continued. “And specifically you...not just your history.”

William raised an eyebrow. The bunny had to admit she was stubborn. “Well...Okay.” William took a moment to think. “I was a father of three kids...all who I’ve outlived because… circumstances…” William admitted with a chuckle.

Vanny looked down with wide eyes. “Yyyyup...may or may not have found that within your history search.” Vanny admitted awkwardly.

William let out a laugh. “Wow! Okay.”

Vanny walked up to him. “Did you ever get tattoos when you were younger?” Vanny asked, grabbing his arm and looking at it.

William widened his eyes. “Uuuuuuhhh-” William pulled his arm out of her grip. “No. Even if I did, you’re not gonna see it on me now.” William mentioned.

Vanny looked down at the middle of his bunny tummy and gasped. “Look!” Vanny poked a visible light green little circle. “You have a bunny belly button!” she cooed.

William yelped and doubled over, wrapping both his arms around his belly. “HEY! No touching.” William warned.

Vanny raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “Why? You ticklish?” Vanny asked. “Is de bunny wabbit ticklish?” Vanny teased as she tried to poke his belly.

“No!” William yelled back, slapping her hands away. “And stop that! I am a grown man!” William yelled at her.

“Hmmm…” Vanny leaned over and stared at the bunny’s side while poking it a couple times. “Maybe a grown bunny…” She gave the belly a squeeze. William shrieked and slapped her arm away. “But a grown man?! There’s NO way!” Vanny teased, sticking her tongue out.

William growled. “Bite me!” he shouted with visible teeth.

Vanny stared at him with starry eyes. Even though William was trying to scare her into stopping, his bunny image didn’t help him at all. If anything, it just made things worse! Vanny giggled and snorted at his attempts to frighten her. Lastly: Vanny brought her index finger up to William’s nose and…

*Beep!*

William squeaked and held his nose in surprise and...almost fear. He made his eyes go cross-eyed as he tried to look at his nose, which only added to the cuteness. The moment Vanny let out an excited squeal however, William shot her a glare out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t even THINK about pulling those stupid, childish-” William yelped as his backside was poked.

“OMG! Your back is ticklish too?!” Vanny reacted. William tried to turn around, but was caught by one of Vanny’s arms around his shoulders. With her free hand, Vanny started crawling her fingers slowly up his back. William’s eyes widened almost immediately as his lips formed a wobbly and crooked smile.

“Oooooh! I see it’s not just your spine…” Vanny started scratching the back ribs. “The sides of your back are ticklish too!” Vanny reacted.

William let out a muffled yelp and shook his head. “SSSTAHAP-!” He yelled at her.

“OH! I’m close! I’m cracking your wall down!” Vanny teased excitedly.

Then, Vanny moved one hand up to the rabbit ears. “I wonder…” She started tickling the inner ear just as a small test. The moment William moved his rabbit ear away and wheezed, Vanny IMMEDIATELY covered his ears with tickles! It was so hard to resist not going for it, when the perfect opportunity had come up!

Now Vanny was tickling his ears menacingly and listening to every laugh, squeak, titter and giggle that left his mouth. It had actually surprised William just how well the programming managed to replicate his laughter as well! Things have REALLY changed since he was younger.

“VAHAHANNYHYHY! THAHAHAT’S EHEHENOHOHOUGH!” William tried to tell her.

“Hell no it’s not! We have tons of time! I still have a response to wait for from the Fazbear company that YOU used to work for. So now I’m just quickly waiting! And while I wait…” Vanny started tickling the base of William’s bunny ears. “-I can see just how ticklish you really are!” Vanny declared.

“NOHOHOHO! UHUHUN- AAHAHAHA-! UHUHUNFAHAHAIR!” William yelled at her.

“Oh I KNOW it’s unfair. But wanna know something else that’s unfair?” Vanny asked rhetorically. “Refusing to tell me a secret of yours after you found out about mine!” Vanny replied to her own question. “Now THAT’S unfair! And just downright rude!” Vanny added.

William shook his head, flapping his ears around as she attacked the vulnerable base of his ears. “NAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHEHE! COHOME OHOHOHON VAHAHAHAHANNY!”

Vanny smirked. “Whaddaya mean ‘come on’? Are you challenging me?” Vanny asked.

William shrieked and turned himself around to get away. Sadly, this just didn’t work. Vanny quickly wrapped her sneaky arm around William’s back and waist, and used her arm to dip him backwards like they had just flashbacked to the 20’s.

William yelped and giggled quite bashfully at this sudden turn of events, but was immediately thrown back into his frustrated frenzy the moment Vanny tickled all over his belly. “NoHO! VANNY! IHIHIHI’LL KIHIHILL YOHOHOHOU!” William threatened as he fell into another hysterical laughing fit.

“Ooooooh! I see…” Vanny said to herself while she poked and prodded at the green circle that highlighted the bunny’s belly button. “You don’t really have a belly button! Just a little green circle that sticks it out from your tummy.” Vanny explained to herself.

“YEHEHES! YOHOHOU HAHAVE YOHOHOUR AHANSWEHER! NOHOW LEHEHET MEHE GOHOHOHO!” William ordered.

Vanny rolled her eyes with a smile and continued to tickle his belly. “Ever heard of manners? Even dogs develop better manners than you!” Vanny teased.

William growled through his laughter and started to push her away. Vanny sighed and stopped tickling his belly. William went limp in her arms as bits of sweat started to fall down the bunny’s face. Was...was that just an overexaggerated emotion?! Or was William actually able to ‘sweat’? “Ohokahay. Can...can you put me down?...pleeeease?” William asked. His attempts to be polite sounded very childish. But, it somewhat worked.

Vanny smiled and laid William back down. “I-Thank you. Though, you didn’t need to lay me- HAHAHA! HEHEHEHEY- YOUSONOFA- EEEEEHEHEHEHEK!” William accidentally interrupted himself. It turns out that Vanny couldn’t resist sneaking a tickle or two onto his ears again.

“No more statements, Giggly Willy. Just a thank you will work well.” Vanny told him as she stopped fully this time.

William grabbed onto his ears and curled up into a little ball on the floor of Vanny’s mind. It was...Quite hilarious to see a tough, put together man doing such a childish move.

“I...Am content with wo-working with you, but…*huff*...C-Could we keep the tickle attacks to a minimum?” William asked.

Vanny hummed as she thought. She finally sighed. “Fine. Once a month.” she told him. “I’ll tickle you once a month.”

William looked up at her and uncurled himself. “Wanna move that to twice a month?” William asked.

Vanny blinked in surprise. “Bi-weekly?! I thought you wanted to keep the tickling to a minimum.” Vanny reacted.

“For-forget that. I don’t mind them.” William admitted casually.

Vanny did everything in her power to not throw her hands in the air and shower him with tickles. But she knew one thing for sure:

Vanny is never letting William live this down!

[artxyra]

I'm not entirely sure that your taking requests (I'm only 68% sure) but if you are can you try doing a daminette fiction based on the song Karma (cover by CMKC) with some class salt? (Maybe even some sibling jasonette or some daminette (or maybe even both...?😏) if you can) Btw I love your writing! 💜 (And before I forget thx for doing my requests, the previous ones and hopefully future ones 💜)

Note: This fics original idea had Marinette being akumatized into KARMA, yeah that didn’t happen when I was writing this one. 

I've lost my mind The skies are crashing around me I'm left behind Smoke obscures all that I can see

“Oh, look, honey, our daughter made her first dress. Get the camera.”

A doll sits on the windowsill overlooking the growing garden on the deck. The doll has blue straw-like hair, bright blue color buttons for eyes, and a black stitched smile.

“Get out! You’re nothing but a pest. How could I care for such a child when you couldn’t do the one thing you brought into this world for.”  

The doll no longer sits on the windowsill, but now lays on in wastebasket. No longer did the doll possess the bright stitch smile. Instead, the face lays bare without a stitch in sight.

“Hey, what are you doing out here all alone? What’s your name?”

“K-ka-karma…”

A small blue jay flutters its wings.  

“I’m Jason. I’ll protect you for now on.”

The blue jay chirps.

A bullet sounds off. A small pull of blood surrounds the bird.

“No!” A thunderous boom goes off in the distance. Multiple sirens join the assembly of loud music. A young pre-teen holds the girl close to his chest, blood oozing out of her chest. A hand touches his shoulder. He shakes it off. Never letting go of her.

Beep…Beep…the heart monitor comes to life slowly. Waiting for the young child to test its system. There is no movement. Then there is silence.   

A dark-haired, blue eye teen, stares into the mirror. Her eyes showing no emotions as her body is littered with markings ranging from cuts to words meant to demean a person.

“Marinette! How could you take credit for Lila’s design?”

The mirror cracks slightly.

 “You have to be an example, Marinette. Your peers look up to you.”

Another crack.

“Marinette how you be mean to that poor girl at your school?”

Another crack.

“I thought you were our everyday Ladybug.”

The mirror shatters. All that is left is darkness.

Marinette stares frozen in place. The gloss in her eyes fading away as the glass falls to the ground, blood in her hand as fragments of glass pierce her skin.

She gasps unsure what to do. Her hands never close as she stares at them with fear. The blood continues to ooze out. The room does dark. A thump.

Her frail arms wrap around her legs tightly. She doesn’t move.

When she comes to, it's by the rushing sound of running water. A waterfall, maybe. She looks up and all she can see is white.

“Why did you do it?” A voice pulls her away from the water. Quickly, she turns around but is halted by a pain aching feeling shooting through her body. She lets out a cry.

“I’m I dead?” Her voice was hoarse, she couldn’t even whisper.

“No,” The voice chuckles. The knobs squeal to life. The water stops following, no longer hitting her in the face. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Her mouth opens but no words come out. She begins to breathe heavily like there was no air entering her lungs.

“How could you push Lila down the stairs? Here’s a taste to what Lila felt.”  One moment she was standing top of the stairs getting ready to leave, the next she at the bottom of the platform. Everything was hurting. Then darkness.

Marinette eyes flutter open, there the no hard tile beneath her like earlier but now cotton sheets and a blanket. She could feel her body move, one toe wiggle, two taps against her fingers.

“Jason,” She sits up pulling the blanket closer to her chest. There is no one there.

A wave of sadness washes over her. A glossy shine covers her bluebell eyes.

“Hey, hey, I’m here, Pixie.” The voice was comforting. She curls into herself. His arms wrap around her and pull her close. Whatever happened to her should have never happened.

He looks down, a soft snore escapes her lips. A smile appears on his lips. At least she safe and with him. No longer in that toxic environment.

A phone vibrates. It’s Marinette’s.

Jason unlocks the phone to see a series of messages. None of which are good. The hand holding the phone shakes. He tightens his grip. Slowly the screen begins to crack.

“You’re safe now.” He whispers into her ear. “Your big brother is here to protect you.” The remaining source of light turns off. He stays next to her.

“We are meant for each other M’lady. To halves on the same coin. You belong to me and no one else can have you.” Green eyes haunt her dreams. The cold feeling returns with growing darkness that was all too familiar.

She wakes up screaming. Tears rolling down her cheeks. There was no stopping the waterfall.

Jason runs into the room cursing himself. He knew he should have left but his family needed him for a mission life or death.

“You’re okay, Pixie, no one but you and I are here.” She continues to cry into his chest. He doesn’t mind the dampness he welcomes it. “It was a bad dream, Mari. A really bad dream.” His free hand caresses her hair, calming her down slowly.

“Todd what is the meaning of this.” His little brother asks over the phone. Jason watches as Marinette takes small bits of her food before swirling the remains in her bowl before repeating the process.

“It sounds like you miss me, Demon Spawn.” Jason jokes back, half into the conversation. He keeps his attention on Marinette. “Hold on.” He hangs up before Damian could retort. Marinette had pushed her bowl away from her and picks up the spoon. She looks at her reflection.

“Why would Adrien even spare you a glance. You are ugly, dull, nothing you would do would ever get his attention.”

“Argh.” Something snaps. It was the spoon. Breathing heavily, Marinette staggeringly gets out of her chair.

Jason helps her to the floor. He could see that she wasn’t going to make it far in her current condition.

“Am I not pretty enough.” Jason barely caught her words. He must burry any of the anger he has for those idiots for the sake of his sister.

“You’re magnificent, Pixie. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He replies. His phone continues to ring with the familiar ringtone, He ignores it.

“Thank you, Jay-Jay.” Marinette closes her eyes. The ringtone lures her to sleep.

“You’ll never be a real designer, Marinette. One word from him and Gabriel will have you blacklisted from the industry before you even put your name out there.”

“I like to see you try.”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, an aspiring fashion designer, has been blacklisted on the bases of copying designers for her work.”

“I told you, Dupain-Cheng, you should have back off when you had the chance.”

Marinette curls into herself as the memories flood back into her mind. She’s alone. The old TV flickers in the darkness. The channel continues to change as the voices, tone, and display changes with each click of a button.

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” She murmurs to no one. Her grip tightens around the blanket.

“What the fuck, Todd? You’ve been gone for days on end and being all secretive.”

“I didn’t think you care about my well-being, Demon. I have a life outside of this shithole.” Jason says as he cleans the barrels of his guns. His younger brother growls. He could only raise an eyebrow.

“I will find out what you’re hiding Todd.”

“Good luck with that.”

Jason picks up his guns and disappears within the shadows of the Batcave.

“Pixie,” The door creaks open. A little bit of light enters the room. Marinette is sleeping on the couch, the blankets cocooning her. Everything seems fine.

“So, she’s what you’ve been hiding.”

“What the fuck?” A gun cocks.  

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“No, my sister in everything but blood.”

“Hmph…why is she here?”

Jason sets his gun down and shuts the door. He turns to Damian; the teen genuinely was curious.

“She needs helps and I’m the only one who can help her. Gina tried but the mental and physical abuse became too much to manage. So, for her protection, Gina sent her to me.” Popping the cork off the bottle, Jason pours himself a drink.

“Does father know?”

“If he did, she would have been adopted in the family by now.” Jason pours himself another glass. Damian scoffs at the out his brother is drinking.

“Ladybug is hereby declared an enemy of Paris.”

“Tikki, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”  

“What do you mean you’re no longer going to be Ladybug? You’re a true creation soul. A true holder of the ladybug miraculous.”

“Find someone else to do it, Master. You heard the Mayor, I’m an enemy of Paris, no better than Hawkmoth and Mayura.” She hands him the ladybug miraculous. Her red eyes close at the thought of losing her best friend.

Marinette wakes up sweating, her hand immediately reaching for her ears. Nothing. She sighs and curls back up.

“She’s been through a lot Damian, whatever scheme you have in mind leave it be and forget about it.”

Swinging her legs over the bed, Marinette sneaks over to the door. The door opens just enough for her to rest her hand against the doorframe.

“Jay-Jay…” Her voice was a whisper again.

Jason pushes the bottle and glass to the side. He’s by her side examining her. She wasn’t hurt.

“Pixie, you should be sleeping.”

“I had another nightmare.” She tells him. “Who’s your friend?”

Damian shuffles in place. She’s so tiny compare to any of his sisters like the wind could just blow her over without even trying.

“I’m Damian.” He tells her.

Marinette gives him a curt nod. Her eyes lock onto his. They’re green. She could feel her chest tightening. No air could get in or out. The glossy look returns in her eye turn.

Sobbing Marinette screams out, “Je vais le faire, Chat Noir. Je vais le faire, arrête!” She slides the down the doorway.

“Shit,” Jason runs over to Marinette. She blocks her view of Damian. Her lock on the green eyes soon fades to blue. Jason’s eyes. She tightly wraps her arms around his neck. Jason rubs her back. Turning to Damian all while keeping him out of Marinette’s sight, he tells his brother, “We’ll finish this later. Your eye color triggered a memory. And Damian, do not tell anyone about her.”

Damian is frozen in place. So much had happened in the last ten or so minutes. He had met the most beautiful girl he has ever seen and then she has a panic attack, something clearly triggered by previous trauma.

“Okay, I won’t tell.” The youngest Wayne agrees but not without weighing the pros and cons. He left the small rundown apartment with more questions than answers.

Jason turns his attention back to Marinette, who’s sobs turn into sniffles. “He can’t hurt you anymore. He can’t hurt you anymore, Pixie.” Marinette buries her head into Jason’s chest. She takes a deep breath. She can only hope.

Now you've used up all your luck It's time to get what you deserve I'm holding out for KARMA I'm holding out to watch you burn

Years past before Marinette was completely healed. Gina would visit from time to time making sure that her granddaughter was okay. She was ecstatic to find that Marinette was healing even if it was a slow process.

“Are you ready?” Marinette turns to Damian; his green eyes hold so much love and care for her than the green eyes she had grown to hate. Nodding, she takes his hand.

Beyond the doors, a series of lights flashes along with shouts. Reporters are in a frenzy trying to get the latest scoop on the Wayne heir’s beloved. Never once had she made a public appearance.

“Yes, thank you all for coming and showing my family your support. Today marks a very special achievement, my young son proposed to his girlfriend just a couple of days ago much to my second oldest dismay.”

Jason disrupts Bruce’s speech by shouting, “Hey” from his location next to Roy.

“Please welcome my son and his fiancée, Marinette Karma Todd.” Bruce steps away from the podium. The doors behind him open to show Marinette holding hands with Damian. She grips his hand tightly as Damian gives her a reassuring smile.

In Paris, several people are thrown in for a loop. Several lawsuits were issued. Collège Françoise Dupont, the school board was not happy at the treatment of one their student, a student that would grow to become one of the most powerful women out there.

Adrien Agreste, who was outed as Chat Noir, received a sexual harassment charge and a restraining order. The Wayne’s were out for blood and wanted to add attempted rape charge and compensation for all the trauma he had caused Marinette.

Lila Rossi, who managed to keep a tight grip on her classmates was finally exposed. Apparently, her latest lie was about being the mysterious Damian Wayne’s girlfriend. That backfired. She was then hit a cease and desist order along with a restraining order. Marinette had won the war.

Alya, who never learned to check her sources, lost any and every opportunity in her field. She even lost her job because she published a story about her best friend being the Wayne heir’s girlfriend. Thankfully, for the business, that article was only hosted in Paris, but the damage was already done.

Marinette never sent anything to her adopted parents. They didn’t deserve her. She was their servant, someone to help with the bakery. Though they were better than her birth parents, she couldn’t find it in her to ruin their lives. Gina became her legal guardian and that was that.

“I’m so glad that I meet you,” Damian says to her, placing a kiss on her hand. Marinette giggles and pulls Damian in for an embrace.

“I’m the lucky one. You would have thought this would be my future.” Marinette gestures to their growing empire. It was small but with Wayne Enterprise and Damian’s Veterinarian business, they were doing quite fine.

“Can I offer you a dance, Angel?”

“I would love that.”

No music plays just the beat of their hearts as one.

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[atsukashii]

❝jealous, love❞ // e. kirishima

SYNOPSIS: ➛ contrary to unpopular belief, Eijiro Kirishima does get jealous, especially when sleazy guys are trying to hit on his girlfriend

» CHARACTER PAIRING: eijiro kirishima x fem!reader

» WORD COUNT: 2.1k

» GENRE: aged up characters, post u.a

» WARNINGS: fluffiest of fluff, protective kirishima, y/h/n - your hero name

« masterlist || ao3 »

Being a pro hero and trying to juggle your personal life is harder than you anticipated. There are things that you see people take for granted that pro heroes physically can’t. Like being able to plan dates with your boyfriend of three years. 

You and Kirishima had learned the hard way that it was almost impossible to plan dates. This is purely due to the fact that you would and can be called into work at any moment of time. After multiple dates that ended up with either you or Kirishima having to run out because of it, you both decided the next time you really wanted to go out and do something, you were requesting the day off, so there would be no interruptions of any sort unless the world was ending. 

As you glance down at your phone out of pure habit, you have a feeling that the world would not in fact end tonight. Instead, you and your boyfriend are going out to a fancy dinner that you had prepared for, two weeks in advance - just to be safe.

Threading your golden earrings through your lobes, you stand up straight and tilt your head slightly at your reflection in the mirror. You’d decided that you were going all out for your date with Kirishima tonight. Dressing yourself up with full glam makeup, and brand new red dress you know Kiri will love, that now brushes your thighs. The look completed with your nude strappy heels fastened to your feet, you were finally ready. 

You check the time once more before grabbing your clutch from the dresser and leaving your bedroom, stepping down your hallway towards the kitchen. Kirishima leans against the island bench of your small kitchen, texting on his phone as you enter. As soon as he hears your heels click against the wooden floors though, his attention snaps to you and the phone almost falls from his hands. For a second, you both stand in complete silence, until Kirishima breaks by moving towards you. Gently, he takes your hand and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“If you weren’t already my girlfriend, I’d date the hell out of you.” he breathes, making a giggle escape your lips.

“Well it's a good thing I’m already your girlfriend isn't it then.” You smile, looking up at him. God, he looks so attractive. He’s outdone himself for your date tonight as well. A black button-up shirt stretches tightly across his chest and matching slacks makes it all too much for your brain to comprehend.

“That’s what I tell myself every day.” He says grinning. Even after all this time, compliments from Kirishima make you blush - and really, you should be used to it with the amount of verbal loving he puts on you on the daily. The man is seriously smooth, and the ultimate confidence booster. You love him dearly for it. 

“You good to go?” he asks, offering you his arm. You don’t bother to bring a coat with you as you wrap your arm around his. It’s summer and with a jacket, the heat would be way too much, which is the only reason you can afford to wear a dress right now. 

Together, you leave your shared apartment and walk to the restaurant that's located just a few blocks from where you live. You’d seen it one day on your way back from work and decided that you and Kiri just had to visit. With classic white tablecloth covered tables, flowers, and dim lighting, it was the perfect romantic setting for a date with your long time boyfriend. When you’d stepped inside, you were seated at your table and quickly ordered before holding up your now delivered wine glass to your boyfriend with a small smile.

“To the first date and relaxing evening in far too long.” Gently, he touches the tip of your glass to his own and beams at you.

“And to many more.” 

❀ ❀ ❀

It’s late when you leave the restaurant, but you both decide that the night itself is still young. On your way home, you decide to stop in at the store to get some wine to have at home. Walking into the store, you both give the man behind the till a kind smile before you slink down the aisle currently displaying too many types of wine for you to choose from. You are about to turn to your boyfriend for help when his phone goes off. His eyebrows furrow as he pulls his phone from his back pocket. You go to check your own, in case the world seriously has it out against you and is, in fact, about to end, but Kirishima places a hand on your arm. His phone already pressed against his ear.

“It’s not urgent, pick whichever one you want babe. I’ll be right back.” He explains and places a tender kiss to your brow before walking away for privacy. Obviously, he didn’t want to ruin your good mood with work talk, and it's that kind of forethought that is one of the reasons you love Kirishima. Your happiness and health are always at the forefront of his mind, whether it be taking care of you when you're sick or comforting you after a heavy day at work, he’s an actual godsend. 

Your eyes scan over the numerous bottles of wine, still unsure of which one to get. Now that Kirishima’s gone elsewhere and not here to help, you’re tempted to close your eyes and point to one in hopes to find an option. Suddenly, the artwork on one catches your eye and you reach towards it, only to stop when a voice fills your ears. One that's definitely not your boyfriend.

“Need a hand with anything darling?” Your eyes move to the stranger, standing a few feet from you with a smile on his face. Your hand hangs uselessly in the air as you watch his eyes track slowly from your face, down your front, and back up again. Even though his smile seems somewhat kind, the look in his eyes screams creeper and is grossing you out. Your eyes track from the man, looking over the top of the aisles in hopes of finding your red-headed boyfriend, but you can’t seem to find Kirishima anywhere. Placing your attention back to the stranger, you resist the urge to wipe your now sweaty hands on your dress and instead give him a kind smile in return.

“I’m good, thanks for the offer though.” You say, hoping that this means the conversation is over. But apparently the guy doesn’t get the hint and stuffs his hands into his pockets.

“Say aren’t you that pro hero, y/h/n?” He asks. You honestly didn’t think you would be noticed tonight, your boyfriend yes, but you? Not so much. Though, much like Kirishima, you were climbing the hero ranks at a speed that seemed to be catching attention. I shouldn’t be surprised, you think; as yesterday you helped your close friend and fellow pro hero Chargebolt bring down a villain that was very publicly known. The media had been spreading the story like crazy, and it wouldn’t blow over for a while. Or until you were outshined by another top hero or something major happened. You don’t mean to make it sound like it's nothing, because you’re proud of your skill and your job, you’re just not a fan of reporters and media is all. 

“Yeah, that's me. But I’m off duty right now.” You explain, suddenly reaching forward and grabbing whatever bottle of wine off the shelf you can get your hand on, to get out of the conversation. As you turn to leave, the creeper’s eyes trail down your torso again, his lips lifting in a satisfied smile. He just graduated from creeper to pervert. You’ve been trained on how to best communicate with people, but pervs still and always will creep you the fuck out. 

“What's a pro hero like you doing here all alone on a Friday night?” Gross.

“I’m here with-”

“Sorry about that babe, Bakugou was just having a go at me about some paperwork.” Kirishima’s voice interrupts and you’ve never been more glad for your boyfriend's presence then you are right now. Once he reaches you, Kirishima looks at the perv and instinctively wraps his arms around your waist. 

“Picked one yet?” He asks you, nodding to the bottle of whatever in your hands. 

“I think so.” You say, feeling a lot more relaxed with Kirishima’s arms around you. 

“You’re Red Riot.” The guy says making you both rotate your attention to him. Kirishima gives him a tight smile, that to anyone but you would look completely genuine. But you know Kirishima, and he’s pissed at the way the stranger is looking at you.

“Nice to meet you.” Kirishima nods, before letting his hand slide down from its perch on your waist until it rests on the small of your back, right above your ass. It’s a possessive move and one that makes you relax slightly against him. Kirishima isn’t normally a possessive person, except for when it comes to you. You know that he hates that people tend to pay attention but he has never made it out to be your fault. It’s a similar thing when he’s in hero costume and guys and girls alike drool over your boyfriend's ripped physique - you amongst them. 

Kirishima suddenly turns his back on the stranger and you instantly become weak at the heat in his eyes. It’s not just attraction swirling in his ruby gaze, but jealousy. Something that he doesn’t usually express often. 

“Ready to go beautiful?” He asks, laying it on thick. You nod your head in response and begin walking to the counter with the bottle of what you now see to be red wine, with Kirishima right behind you. You know there’s logic to the reason he’s sticking to you like glue so that the perv can’t see your frame from behind Kirishima’s bulking one. At the register, you’re practically sandwiched between the front counter and your boyfriend, who somehow has the coordination to simultaneously hold you and try to tap his card to pay for the wine before you can, but he fails. He had demanded to pay for the dinner tonight, so you’d requested to pay for the wine, which he agreed to. Sighing in defeat, he slips his wallet into his back pocket as the guy behind the till wrap’s it all up. You lean back into Kirishima’s chest as you feel yourself finally relax again, Kirishima follows by resting his head on your shoulder. 

“Thank you. I love you, Eijiro.” You whisper to the air, and you know he’s heard you when his arms squeeze around your middle in response, a silent code that he returns the sentiment. 

Saying a kind thank you to the worker, you and Kirishima walk out of the store. Once you’re outside, he can’t help but glance over his shoulder and outright glare as if the shop has physically harmed him. 

“Babe,” you say, trying to smother a giggle. Kirishima looks back at you with raised eyebrows and an innocent look on his face.

“What?” shaking your head at his antics, you both stop at the traffic lights and wait to cross the road. 

“Are you jealous, Kiri?” Your tone is teasing, and the bulking man lets out a dejected sigh, pulling you once again tightly into his side as if he can’t bear the act of not touching you right now. His arm wraps around your waist as the lights change, allowing you to keep walking. 

“I hate it when people stare at you like that. Can they not see that it makes you uncomfortable? And to do it so blatantly, that guy was gross as hell. Are you alright?” He asks and you nod in agreement, whilst falling for him a little bit more.

“I’m okay, and I'm glad you were there to save the day, Mr. Hero.” You smirk and the beaming grin that covers his face makes the awkward encounter completely worth it.

“Whenever you need me, babe, I'm there.” You both know it's corny as hell, but you don’t care. Kirishima practically drags you across the road before stopping you, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your lips. Your heart flips inside your chest at his actions, something that hasn’t changed since your first kiss.

“I love you so much y/n.” Grinning against your boyfriend's lips, pure euphoria floods your system. 

“I love you too big guy.” You pull back, entwining your fingers with his and begin to walk backward, pulling him alone. “Let’s go home and drink this hopefully not crappy wine and watch tv.” 

“Babe, you know just what to say.” He fake groans whilst walking next to you, the bottle of wine in a paper bag tucked under his arm like a ball. God, he’s perfect. 

©️ 2021 all rights reserved to atsukashii, do not change, edit, translate, or repost any works on any platform.

[dirty-urie]

Date Night

Third Person

Brendon x Sara (OC kinda)

College AU

PWP Oneshot

NC-17

5.4k Words

Disclaimer: This is a fictional story using the names and/or likeness of at least one real person. This is intended for entertainment purposes ONLY. Please do not share or bring up my work with anyone other than fellow fans. Any similarity to real-life events involving these characters that have not been shared with the general public is only coincidence. Just because I’ve included something in my fics does NOT mean I condone, support, or encourage that behavior, language, or action in real life. Please practice safe and consensual sex practices, and just be a good person.

Warnings in Order of Appearance: Real Person Fic, Crude and Vulgar Language Throughout, Mentions of Alcohol, Brief Joke About Forgoing Contraception, Talk and Consumption of Pornography, Unprotected Oral Sex, Female Receiving Oral, Intercourse, Male Receiving Oral, Female Masturbation, Use of a Non-Sex Toy as a Sex Toy, Minor Social Anxiety

Author's Notes:

1. I spelled Sarah's name wrong on purpose because I felt bad writing porn about her. Brendon's technically permitted to write about him, so I'll do that without guilt (okay, with some guilt, but I feel guilty about everything. I have anxiety), but I respect Sarah too much to do that to her. That being said, I didn't want to use a random name, so I decided on a middle ground. Here's Sara, who is both not a real person and also not not married to Brendon Urie in real life. Schrodinger's OC. Okay, thank you for putting up with me.

2. I don’t know if I’m going to write any more third-person fics. I know they’re not really that popular, but for some reason, this spoke to me in third, so I embraced that. Anyway, give it a chance, and if you don’t like it, give whatever I publish next a chance.

3. This used to be split into two parts because I uploaded it on mobile, but I have since condensed the two parts, and now the whole thing is on this post.

Brendon fumbles with his keys as he unlocks the door to his apartment. Sara won't be there for another little while, but he's anxious to get inside anyway. His roommate is away visiting his family for the first time in nearly two months, and he hasn’t gotten any real alone time with his girlfriend since then. It’s hard, and Brendon knows Sara’s been struggling too because she spent their whole coffee shop study-date the day before whispering to him about how she's been practically crawling out of her skin. Brendon shivers at the memory of her hot breath against his ear as he slams his front door shut and hurries to his bedroom.

He's thinking about all the nasty ways he wants to get back at her for getting him so worked up in public when, speak of the devil, his phone buzzes, and Sara's name pops up in the caller ID. Actually, "Brunette from Creative Writing" pops up, but he swears he'll change it one day. Sara jokes that they'll be married with a whole flock of adult children, and she'll be calling him from the bingo hall as "Brunette from Creative Writing." God, he fucking loves her.

"Hey, babe, I just got home," he says after he hits the answer button.

"Okay, I just got out of my lecture, but I'm stopping by my dorm to grab my duffel bag, then I'm going to the drugstore to get condoms that aren't the shitty university clinic ones, so I won't be there for almost another hour," she tells him.

"Noooo, just come straight here. You can just wear my clothes all weekend. And condoms are so unnecessary; I'll just pull out," Brendon whines.

Sara laughs into the phone, knowing he doesn't mean any of that. "Oh sure, in that case, I'll come right over. Did you want to pay me $400,000 to raise a child in cash or check?"

"Uh, check, but you're gonna have to wait a bit to cash it," he replies.

He can practically see her rolling her eyes, even through the phone, "I'll be there in an hour, but I'll bring you something fun from the drugstore," she says.

"Fun like sex fun or fun like gum from the checkout stand fun?"

"You'll just have to wait and see, love you, bye!" she tells him through the phone before hanging up.

"Love you too, babe," he says sarcastically to no one. He walks into his bedroom and makes sure it's spotless. He doesn't want anything whatsoever to get in the way of fun, sexy times once Sara gets here.

His apartment is clean; he has wine and groceries in the fridge, enough money saved up to rent a movie and order dinner later, and no homework, so once Sara shows up with the condoms, he’ll be good to spend the entire weekend at home with her. With nothing else to do, he climbs onto his bed and grabs his laptop. No harm in a little pre-gaming, he figures, pulling up his favorite porn website while he waits.

He clicks on the first video without too much thought. It’s a girl, one Brendon recognizes, wearing a tiny thong and nothing else, and playing with a small bullet vibe while her boyfriend watches. She’s wet, probably just with lube and not actual bodily fluid, he realizes, but at least they bothered to make her look physically aroused at all.

He gets invested in the video, in the new toys that the boyfriend hands her, in the way both of their arousal grows as time goes on. He gets so engrossed that he’s beyond startled when Sara interrupts with, “Starting without me?” eyeing the erection already straining through his jeans.

Brendon laughs with glee now that she’s finally here, “No, no, no, just passing the time while I wait for you. No touching yet, see," he says, holding up his hands and waving them around before pausing his video.

"Well, don't stop on my account," Sara scoffs. "I don't mind you starting without me as long as I'm there when you finish," she murmurs.

They both moan, Brendon in response to her words, Sara in response seeing Brendon's cock twitch in his pants, “Ah fuck, babe, that’ll be sooner than I’d like if you keep talking like that.”

Sara climbs in next to him and snuggles against him so that she can see his computer screen, “Ooo, she’s hot,” she says, pointing to the girl now getting eaten out by the guy who, coincidentally enough, doesn’t look dissimilar to B.

“Yeah, I like a lot of her work,” Brendon says back, disinterested in the video playing on the laptop now that Sara’s actually there in the flesh “hey, you should take your pants off,” he suggests, totally smooth and subtly.

“You’re such a guy, B. No ‘how was your day? Are you hungry? Can I get you something to drink?” she teases.

Under normal circumstances, Brendon would object to such slander on his impeccable moral character. But, well, there’s not a lot of blood in his brain right now, and he knows that she would just respond with more teasing, further delaying the Fun Sexy Times, so he rolls to his side and kisses behind her ear, pressing his cock against her leg in an attempt to tease her into pliability. It works; she melts, whimpering a little bit as heat pools deep in her stomach when she feels just how turned on Brendon is. “You feel so nice, B. Bet you’d feel nicer without this layer of denim between us. Can you help me?”

Brendon unbuttons her pants and moves down to slide them off her body, moving his mouth along the newly revealed skin as he works them off. He’s paying so much attention to the warm flush of her thighs that he almost misses her panties: dark red lace, even darker where she’s soaked through them, and so delicate that they’re nearly see-through.

“Oh fuck, babe, that’s gorgeous. Are you wearing a matching bra?” he asks.

She answers by sitting up and pulling off her t-shirt, revealing the same thin lace. Her nipples are hard, practically poking through the delicate material.

Brendon settles back on his heels to fully take his girlfriend in, now stripped down to just her matching bra and panties set.

Sarah grins down at him, “Why do I get the sense that I can expect this set in every color for my birthday? Although, I know for a fact that I can get the same reaction from you wearing full-coverage high-waisted granny panties,” she thinks aloud after seeing Brendon’s wide-eyed awe.

Brendon isn’t paying attention, though. His mindset shifted from the fun and playful sex they usually have to lust-fueled passion as soon as Sara took her shirt off. Don’t get him wrong, they have great sex, but they normally have to do it fast and quietly and spontaneously, so they’ve gotten good at not taking themselves too seriously, at laughing at Brendon’s old superhero boxers, and then getting to business. Now that he has the chance to really take his time to appreciate, no, worship her as she deserves, he wants to do it right.

He moves off his heels and crawls over her body, supporting himself with one muscled arm as he moves in to kiss her. She picks up on the change in mood immediately, grasping the back of his head to deepen the kiss. He’s throbbing against her thigh now, even through his jeans, and she’s worried that she might come just from feeling him.

She, too, loves their normal sex, but even though it’s fun, it can’t always be as intimate as either of them would like. And it’s a shame too because as good at Brendon is at fucking, banging, screwing, whatever, he’s damn good at making love. At making sure she’s safe and supported and in absolute bliss, even when they’re hooking up in someone’s bedroom at a party, but especially like this when they’ve got hours and total privacy.

When her moans increase in pitch and frequency, Brendon crawls back down on the bed and settles between her thighs. “Darling, these panties are a gift to humanity, but I’m afraid they’re going to get in the way of some things I have planned. You don’t mind if I take them off, do you?” he says, voice deep and gravelly. He mouths against the soaked fabric while he waits for her response.

After taking a moment to collect herself and catch her breath, “God, Brendon, please, I need your mouth, fingers, cock, something,” she whines.

Now that he has her permission, he moves his mouth from her core to the waistband against her hip and bites it, just letting his teeth scrape her skin as he pulls down. Whether intentionally or not, Sara arches her back up, making it easy to slide them all the way down her legs. He kisses her way back up her legs, but instead of stopping between her thighs, he keeps going up. He licks up across the flat planes of her stomach all the way until he reaches her bra. Just like with her panties, he mouths over the fabric first, inching up slowly before sucking on one of her nipples through the lace.

As much as he loves how her breathing gets faster and heavier just from that, he can’t resist the actual mouth-on-skin that the low cut of the bra allows. He sucks a pink mark on each breast and then moves to lick and suckle gently on her neck. They’ve both agreed that they’re not middle schoolers and visible hickeys are beyond tacky, but they both go so wild from neck stimulation that it can be hard to resist spending a few minutes sucking a licking at the rapidly-beating pulse points.

As much as Brendon wants to keep teasing, Sara’s squirming like crazy, and he’s worried that if he kept going in the same way, she’d come before he got to touch her for real. He finally settles between her thighs for real this time, kissing and sucking gently on her vulva for just a second or two. Sara is quivering by the time he moves down to suck on her clit. As soon as he finally makes contact with the sensitive hood, she screams out in ecstasy, taking full advantage of Brendon’s roommate’s absence. He sucks around her clit just like her nipple, a few short staccato bursts followed by long, drawn-out pulls. He moves his tongue gently the whole time to stimulate her further.

Both of her hands are tangled in his hair, tugging hard when he moves from sucking on her clit to licking across her entrance. He licks across the opening in broad strokes before his tongue enters her, rubbing her clit with his thumb the whole time. He waits until her thighs are clenched tight around his head, and she’s bucking up against his mouth before he slips two fingers inside to rub over her g-spot.

“B, stop, I’m gonna fucking come!” She shrieks.

He lifts his head without slowing his fingers, “You don’t wanna come?”

“Want you to be inside me when I do. Inside me for real, not just fingers,” Sara pants, trying hard to distract herself from her building arousal.

As much as Brendon’s disappointed that Sara won’t come on his face, after all, he’s been hard for over an hour now, and he would love to get out of his restrictive jeans and get a little more stimulation than rubbing himself against the bed.

He crawls out of bed and peels his shirt off. Now it’s Sarah’s turn to marvel at her lover. His cheeks and chest are flushed a deep pink from the exertion and arousal, his face is shiny with spit and her juices, and his cock is tenting the material of his pants.

Sara strokes over herself lazily, it’s not nearly as good as Brendon, but it’s something to take the edge off while she watches Brendon unbuckle his belt to strip his pants off. He’s moving slowly on purpose. He always did love to put on a show.

Once he’s down to his black boxer-briefs, he asks Sara where she put the condoms when she came in.

“B, I love that you’re so distracted by me, but the bag is right next to you on the nightstand,” she answers.

“Hey, I’m not wearing my glasses. That’s not fair,” Brendon replies softly. He turns and opens the plastic bag with the drugstore logo on the front. Sara laughs when his eyes visibly widen. “Should I be scared?” He asks, holding up a large vibrating dildo.

Sara laughs. “No, love, I just wanted to get some toys I could leave at your place,” she answers as he pulls out a bullet vibe, two different types of lube, a cock ring, massage oils, whipped cream, a multi-pack of condoms, and yes, gum from the checkout stand.

“...I may have gotten a little carried away in the sexual wellness aisle,” she admits.

Brendon’s eyes are still the size of saucers, “God, no kidding, babe, this is all incredible,” he says, stripping off his boxers and opening the box of condoms to tear a packet open with his teeth. It’s a bad habit, and usually, Sara would scold him, but she’s so worked up that she spreads her legs in anticipation anyway. Her mouth goes dry while he strokes himself with lube before he rolls the condom on.

He finally, finally, finally settles over her. “Is this position okay?” he asks.

“It’s perfect, baby; I love getting to see your face when you push into me,” she answers, whining as he drags his cock across her opening.

That’s good enough for Brendon. He rocks forward into her slowly, partly because he’s a tease but partly because he wants this to last as long as possible. After pushing in deep to rub back and forth across her g-spot, he starts thrusting in earnest, relishing her moans and pants.

“Oh B, you feel so good,” she cries out.

“You feel even better, love. Squeezing so nicely around me. So tight and wet,” he says.

Sara scratches down his back in sheer bliss. Brendon’s rhythm is steady, but he’s moving just slowly enough that they can both relish every thrust without feeling overly needy or impatient. She pushes her thighs together to feel him even better inside her.

His thrusts falter for a second, and he chokes out a gasp. “Love you, love feeling you,” he groans, “but it’s been nearly a month since we last had sex, babygirl. If you keep that up, I am going to come.”

She relaxes her thighs just a little bit. “God, I love how sensitive you are right now, babe, responding to my every touch so much. I love you collected and composed too, but it’s such a treat having you so weak for me,” she marvels, stroking the back of his neck.

A shiver goes down his whole spine, and he devotes all of his energy to not coming. “I haven’t touched myself since we last had sex,” he admits, “I figured if my sweet girl couldn’t get off, I couldn’t either. It’s been such a challenge, but fuck, it was worth it. I’m so on edge for you.”

She tightens around him, moving her hand to touch her clit. “Shit, Brendon, that’s so fucking hot. I’m just thinking about you late at night, hard and aching thinking about me, but controlling yourself so it could be all the better when we finally reunited. Did you ever cheat? Did you ever jack yourself but force yourself to pull away right before you came to roll over and go to sleep? God, I bet you had so many dirty dreams. Bet you woke up humping a pillow because your body needed to get off so bad. Bet you’d struggle to hide your hard-on in public when your mind wandered even just a little. Such a dirty needy boy, but so so good for me, aren’t you?” she pants out, squeezing tighter as she talks.

He laughs, “You know me so well, sweetheart, all of the above is true. My roommate was thrilled to have all the hot water for himself this month because… I took a lot of cold showers. I’ll leave it at that. Now, if you don’t mind, I believe you’ve taken my job,” he says, replacing her hand on her clit with his own.

Sara falls back and goes rigid, crying out. He circles his thumb faster as the pace of his thrusts picks up. “I’m gonna come!” She shouts.

“Do it, come on me,” Brendon whispers.

Sara contracts around him, shrieking and convulsing as she comes on him before melting back onto the bed.

Brendon leans down to nip at her shoulder and then kiss her lips. “Good, baby?”

She nods, eyes closed and still panting hard.

“I’ll give you a second,” he murmurs, mostly to himself before pulling out and collapsing down next to her. He strokes over himself while he waits for her to come back down to earth, still rock hard.

“Shit, B, you still haven’t come,” she finally realizes, “do you want me to blow you?”

His cock twitches at the thought.

“Or I could ride you? Let you watch my tits bounce as I fuck you?” She suggests.

“That one wanna be back in that perfect cunt.”

Sara moves to straddle him, rubbing her clit against his tummy and kissing him before moving back to settle on him for real. She lets him thrust up into her a couple of times before moving herself, relishing the way his muscles tense under his flushed skin.

Brendon loves being ridden. He wouldn’t say it’s his favorite position, but it’s up there. It’s even better when Sara takes her bra off, as pretty as it is, and he gets to see her entire naked body. She gets herself at the perfect angle and rides him as hard as she can.

“I’m really not going to last long,” he warns.

Sara tangles her hands back in his hair just like he loves. She’s pulling out all the stops to get him to come. “God, B, me neither, I didn’t think I had it in me, but I’m right back on the edge. Just rub my clit, and I’ll come.”

He moves his hands from her ass to touch her clit.

She shudders, “B, I’m gonna come!”

“Me too,” he grunts out, “do you want me to pull out?”

“No, wanna feel your hot come inside me, even with the condom,” she answers before coming again. Even harder this time as waves of pleasure roll through her entire body.

The rapid contractions around his cock trigger his own orgasm, and his entire head goes blank as he gets lost in the sensation. Sara collapses and situates herself in his arms just as they’re both starting to come down.

He moves, but she stops him. “Honey, I’ve gotta,” he starts, but she whines and shakes her head, knowing exactly where he’s going, “I’ve gotta pull out so we can clean up and eat dinner. Round two after Italian?”

She finally nods but wraps her legs tighter against him anyway, “just two more minutes. Then we can go be romantic.”

***

“Sara, sweetheart, food’s almost here,” he whispers thirty minutes later. He’s wearing pajama pants with no shirt, and his torso’s still wet from the shower he took to rinse off. “Do you wanna go get yourself cleaned up while I set up the coffee table to eat?” He asks.

Sara shakes her head, “I get clingy and needy after sex-”

Brendon cracks a grin because he knows this, of course.

“So you’re stuck with me for the next couple of hours,” she finishes.

“Mm, that’s fine with me, babe. I just want you to be comfortable,” he responds, kissing her forehead.

She moves up into the kiss and realizes that a shower might be nice after all, “Actually, I am a little sticky. Come into the bathroom with me?”

“Anything you want, love,” he says, scooping her up and carrying her to the shower.

He turns the water on for her and then goes to sit on the counter while she rubs off the sweat under the spray. “B?” She calls.

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s nothing fancy, but when you rubbed my clit in little circles, I nearly died on the spot. Normally when I’m alone, I just stroke back and forth, but god, it felt so good to feel something new,” she says. Brendon doesn’t respond immediately. “B?” She calls back timidly, shy now. “B?”

She’s getting worried that he left without her hearing, so she pulls back the shower curtain and has to choke back a moan. Brendon’s still sitting on the counter, his head tipped back on the mirror, palming over himself through his PJ pants.

“God, Sara, sorry, I just love hearing how I make you feel, and I couldn’t help it,” he tells her.

Sara shuts the water off and walks across the bathroom to Brendon, paying no mind to how she’s dripping all over the tile. She yanks him up to his feet and drops to her knees on the padded bathmat in front of the sink. She pulls his pants down just enough- no underwear, she observes without surprise- and takes him in her mouth, getting him slick enough that she can stroke him to total hardness with her hand. Once he’s fully hard, she takes him back in her mouth and sucks hard, making his knees tremble. She bobs her head up and down, stroking him with her hand when she doesn’t have his whole length in her mouth.

He’s bracing himself against the counter to stay upright and not buck into her mouth. She moves down to just stimulate the tip while quickly stroking over the rest of him.

“Can you come for me? Food is going to be here any minute,” she says, looking up at him with big eyes.

“You playing with yourself down there, baby? Getting all wet from sucking me off?” He asks, the dirty talk getting him closer to the edge.

“Oh, you know it, gets me so hot, making you feel good. I wish I had one of my new toys, though,” she pouts before licking his dick again.

Brendon gropes behind himself blindly, trying to find… well. It’s not a vibrator, but it does, well, vibrate, he thinks, hitting the button on his electric toothbrush. He hands it to Sara, who puts it between her legs without hesitation, pressing it against her clit.

She goes weak, moaning a buzzy hum over his cock while she sucks. She knows he’s close by the way his balls are drawing into his body, so she goes ahead and lets herself go. Tightening the pressure around his cock.

“Shit, babe, I’m gonna come,” he warns, hips bucking. “Can I come in your mouth or…?”

She holds up a thumbs up, and he comes, most of it staying in her mouth, but some ends up dripping down her chin. She swallows, and Brendon hands her a wad of toilet paper to wipe off the rest with.

He tucks himself back into his pants and then helps her back to her feet.

“Can I have my toothbrush back, love?” He requests softly.

Sara blushes and takes the still-vibrating toothbrush out from between her legs, “Sorry, I forgot I still had that.”

“No worries,” he responds with a soft chuckle, kissing her forehead. He takes the toothbrush and turns it off before rinsing it off under the sink. “Gosh, you did a number on this thing. It’s soaked,” he marvels, “My perfect messy girl.”

Just then, there’s a knock at the door. “Perfect timing, must be the food. I’ll deal with that while you get dressed?” He suggests, and she nods, still a little dazed from the orgasm. Well, orgasms, plural.

She goes back to his room, where she stashed her bag and rummages through it for her pink silk slip nightgown. It’s super simple, just spaghetti straps with a straight-across neckline and then deep pink fabric straight down to just below her ass, but Brendon loves it. She suspects it’s just because she can���t move very much without flashing her butt, but he insists that the slip itself is gorgeous.

As she’s getting dressed, she hears the door open and Brendon apologizing for his relative state of undress, saying he just got out of the shower. Brendon’s naked more often than he’s clothed, so Sara just shrugs it off until she hears a giggle and flirting coming from the delivery girl.

Brendon stammers out that he has a girlfriend, but he’s flattered, but that doesn’t seem to be deterring the delivery girl, who makes an extra point to linger her hand on Brendon’s as she hands him the food. Sara strides out of his bedroom, “Hey, B, have you seen my panties? I can’t find them in your bed or your bathroom or the kitchen or the sofa, so I wonder if I left them in your pocket during our multiple rounds of lovemaking,” She calls before pretending to spot him and the girl for the first time by the door. She scootches in next to him and kisses him on the cheek, plastering a sickly-sweet smile on her face. “My apologies, didn’t know you had a guest,” she lies, shooting death beams at the delivery girl whose hand is on Brendon’s bicep. The girl retracts her hand, and Sara grabs a twenty-dollar bill from her wallet on the doorside table to tip her. Sara knows Brendon would’ve already tipped her on the website, but this more of a ‘please don’t touch my boyfriend without his consent tip’ than a ‘thank you for your work tip.’ “Have a nice day, ma’am,” Sara tells her, shutting the door.

Brendon smirks, but there’s a weariness behind it, “Way to save the day, baby. Getting possessive?”

“No, I love it when others check you out. Just validates how hot I am for you. You just sounded like you do when you get overwhelmed at the grocery store, and I figured you were feeling a little claustrophobic,” she explains.

Brendon nods. “I don’t mind a flirt, but she was getting way too handsy. And even then, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world; I just felt a little vulnerable being shirtless and all. She probably just wanted a big tip. I bet that works for her a lot. And y’know, I probably shouldn’t have been shirtless at all. If I was in a restaurant, they’d have every right to kick me out, so really, I’m lucky she didn’t blacklist my address,” he rambles, turning to get plates and silverware from the kitchen.

Sara touches his shoulder and grabs the bags of food from him. “Hey, B, you don’t need to justify your feelings, okay? I get it; she was in your space. Both your personal space by touching you and your physical area by being near your home. But it’s sweet of you to give her the benefit of the doubt. You’re probably right, I would guess that works with nine out of ten guys; she was cute. And hey, I gave her a nice tip to get her to go away, so it worked on us too.”

“And you got to brag to a stranger about our hot sex life, so it really did all work out in the end,” Brendon half-jokes, and she’s happy to observe that any panic seems to have left his body.

“Mhm, my favorite hobby. Maybe we should order dessert, and I can change into something even more slutty. This shows my ass so nicely, but my chest is totally covered,” she suggests, and he cracks a real smile for her. “Seriously though, you’re totally good?”

“Yes, ma’am, everything’s perfect,” he responds, and he’s telling the truth.

“Good, let me set up dinner then. You go relax on the sofa,” she orders.

Brendon goes to sit on the couch, knowing better than to deny a direct request. Sara plates the food and brings it to the now dim living room, where Brendon’s lit three candles in the center of the table.

“Awww, how romantic,” she praises, settling against Brendon with their food.

“I had more romance planned, I promise, I just weighed my options, and I cared more about snuggling with my girl than trying to overdo it on decorating the living room,” Brendon responds. “I do still have wine in the fridge if you want that?”

She twists around to kiss him. “The romance level is perfect. Consider me totally romanced. I think I’ll wait on the wine until later if that’s okay? It’ll make me sleepy, and I’m still interested in a round two,” she says, resting her hand against Brendon’s thigh.

“Whatever you want is fine with me, love,” he says, sighing contentedly.

***

“You’re falling asleep, babygirl.”

“Am not.”

“Your eyes are closed.”

“Your eyes are closed.”

Brendon smiles, “Do you wanna keep watching the movie, or do you wanna go to bed? If you’re sleepy, that’s fine, but we’ve gotta move to the bedroom then,” he murmurs.

Sara moves off the couch and stretches, turning on the light. “I’m not even tired; I took a nap earlier. It’s just the dim lighting and carb surplus. C’mon, let’s keep watching, it’s only 10 and we’re not even to the, ‘paint me like one of your French girls’ scene.”

“Okay, if you insist, then we’ll soldier on. I’ll get dessert,” he agrees, getting up to head to the kitchen.

“Ooo what’s for dessert?” she asks.

“Cannoli and coffee,” he responds.

Sara moans playfully. “God, Brendon, I’m so turned on right now.”

Brendon rolls his eyes. “I’ll try not to take offense that you’re more attracted to sweets than me.”

Sara wraps her arms around his waist from behind him. “I’d choose you over cannoli any day. Someone could offer me a thousand cannoli and I’d scoff in their face and then go kiss all over you. I love you, babe. Thank you for a great date night,” she says before spinning him around to kiss him.

“I love you too,” Brendon whispers against her lips. “Tonight was wonderful, and I owe it all to you.”