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alinathinkstoomuch · 8 days ago

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PART OF THE JOB

pairing: dbf!bodyguard!hotch x reader summary: you go to a party to make hotch jealous and, in the process, end up butt-dialing him mid-make-out with another guy…oops, based on this request. warnings | an: jealous jealous super jealous hotch, protective hotch, age gap, mutual pining, tension, lil bit of manhandling, 2 divas arguing instead of kissing, angst if you squint, r is a brat. word count: 2.2k

✧ masterlist

Being a good kisser had never ranked high on your list of life priorities…until now. The sloppy lips currently smothering yours made you want to reconsider that standard entirely. And, annoyingly, all you could think about was how Aaron—no, Hotch, you reminded yourself—probably wouldn’t kiss like this.

He seemed like he'd be patient and gentle at first. He would take his time, studying, sensing your body before he decided to take it any further. He’d wait, just until a whimper was on the tip of your tongue before giving in, silencing you with his.

He had spent years, decades even, studying people’s behaviour for a living. And that skill was bound to apply to scenarios a little less gruesome than murder.

And his hands—so big—seemed like they would cradle you in place. Keep you still. Keep you there, ready for his taking. Fingertips moulding into your skin as his mouth trailed lazily down your neck.

The thought alone made you moan into the mouth of someone who neither deserved it nor was the reason for it. But Steven had taken it as encouragement anyway, his hands sliding down to your ass. They felt smaller. Wrong. Insufficient in every way Hotch’s wouldn’t be.

You pulled back slightly, lips parted, the words you’re not him taunting your tongue, only to frazzle into nothingness as you remembered all the countless times you’d practically thrown yourself at Hotch only to get nothing in return.

You had a pool. A big, gorgeous pool that mostly just existed for when your father’s friends brought their kids over. Otherwise, it sat untouched. You never really cared for swimming anyway. Chlorine clinging to your skin and ruining your hair? Not exactly your thing.

But you had noticed that on the gentler mornings, when your father was out of town, Hotch would sit outside with his coffee and the newspaper, positioned perfectly to face the said pool.

So, naturally, you decided that morning swims were now officially your thing. Wellness era, fresh air, early starts, all the things magazines were banging on about. Never mind that the swims lasted fifteen minutes and the everything shower that followed took forty-five.

You’d swim a few laps, then stretch out along the edge of the pool. You’d tip your head back, sun catching your skin, doing your best to coax even the smallest comment from the man who seemed permanently committed to keeping his mouth shut, and his eyes anywhere but on you.

But by your fourth attempt, you were convinced he’d started timing it. Closing the paper or standing up just before you decided to get out, like clockwork.

That was just one entry on the ever-growing, mildly unhinged list of attempts you’d made to get him to notice you.

There were others. Of course there were.

The final straw came in Steven’s bedroom. A house party that had slowly devolved into a bedroom party. One that, unfortunately, only one of you (Steven) seemed to be enjoying.

Hotch had been so good at dodging any and all attempts to get even a sliver of attention—anything that didn’t fall strictly within the bounds of his contract to keep you safe—that you’d started to think you’d imagined the connection between you altogether.

It felt less like something real and more like a concept. An idea to keep you company on the nights you couldn’t sleep, and, apparently, during moments like this, when you were actively trying to scrub him from your mind by hooking up with someone you had barely any interest in… only to end up thinking about that damn scowl anyway.

You pulled back all the way this time, a hand flat on Steven’s chest.

“I—I need a second,” you mumbled, standing almost too quickly, the drinks you’d indulged in earlier deciding your balance.

“Is something wrong?”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, mostly to stop yourself from blurting out the truth that yes, everything was wrong. Because the man you actually wanted was old enough to be both Steven’s father and yours, and you had no business wanting him the way you did.

“No, Steven,” you said, forcing a breathy laugh as you smoothed your hands over your hips. “I’m just a little hot, you know? No AC in here, let’s crack a window open, yeah?”

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but you were too warm to care. You turned and made your way across the room. Your fingers curled around the latch, starting to twist it open, only to freeze at the banging on the bedroom door.

“Uh hey? Sorry to interrupt your, um… whatever, but—” The door creaked open, and one of Steven’s friends poked their head in. “There’s some strange man at the door who just threatened to break my arm if I didn’t tell him where you were.”

Steven straightened immediately and it almost seemed endearing. “What the hell, I’ll go down—”

“No,” you cut in quickly, grabbing his arm before he could move. “It’s fine. I’ll go.”

“You sure? Sounds like a psycho.”

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s just my babysitter making sure I haven’t been kidnapped,” you muttered, brushing past Steven’s friend in the hallway as you headed for the stairs.

You were halfway down by the time your eyes landed on him, standing on the doorstep like a vampire who refused to enter without an invitation. You raised your brows first, the disbelief plain on your face, before hissing, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Your father wants you home.”

“My father is in a completely different state and has no clue where I am,” you bit back, whipping your head over your shoulder at the sudden stillness behind you.

Several pairs of eyes were strained on the two of you. At least the music was loud enough to drown out your voices, leaving them only with a visual, like a grainy, black-and-white movie.

“I will shut this place down quicker than you can blink if you don’t get in the car.”

“Feel free,” you encouraged, arms settling comfortably on your chest as you crossed them. “Did you bring your badge for the full effect, or was that confiscated before you swapped the FBI for a career in babysitting?”

Your name fell out of his lips in warning.

“There is no danger here. Just a bunch of honry young adults. Feel free to resume your evening, Hotch.” You reached for the door, hand already moving to slam it in his face, but he was painfully faster.

His own hand shot out, catching the door before it even reached the halfway mark. With a slight shove, he forced it back open and before you could react, that same hand was wrapping around your wrist.

“What the hell—” you started, but he was already pulling you through the door.

You stumbled after him, heels clicking against the pavement as he all but dragged you toward the car.

“Let go of me,” you yelled, yanking against his grip.

“I asked you nicely.” He didn’t even look back. “You wanted a scene, now you’ve got one.”

You dug your heels in, breath catching as anger surged in your chest, before you confidently decided to take a page out of his handbook.

“I will have you out of a job before you’ve even put the keys in the ignition if you don’t let go of me right now.”

That stopped him.

He turned to face you, your wrist slipping free. “Do you want to use my phone or yours to call your father and tell him you spent the night getting drunk, letting some guy crawl all over you?”

“What?” Your stomach dropped, brows pinching together as the words landed.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “You pocket-dialled me.”

“No, I didn’t,” you breathed, denial rushing out as your hands flew to your back pocket, fingers scrambling for your phone.

You unlocked the screen, heading straight to your call log.

There it was.

Hotch (bane of my existence) – 5 minutes, 42 seconds.

Fuck.

“That was an accident,” you said quickly. “I didn’t mean to.”

Which, technically, was true. You wanted him to imagine it, paint his own picture when you walked out in that low cut top, knowing full well he’d track your location to Steven’s house. You wanted to get under his skin, not give him front-row seats to the sound of your moaning.

He said nothing.

Just stood there, watching you like he could see straight through every excuse before you even placed them in a sentence.

“I figured. Didn’t sound like you meant to call anyone.”

Heat flooded to your cheeks, every drop of blood in your body momentarily being replaced by molten embarrassment. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything else, so you sighed, then walked past him, spotting his car parked a short distance away.

He followed without a word, but when you reached the curb, he moved ahead and opened the passenger side for you.

The call had lasted almost six minutes.

And he hadn’t hung up.

He’d stayed on the line, listening to Steven’s hands on you. Listening to the moans that weren’t meant for him but came from thoughts that were. Thoughts that had always been about him.

You stared at the window, your teeth picking apart the inside of your cheek, trying to focus on the blur of streetlights instead of the shame simmering beneath your skin, settling into the space where your confidence used to live.

Still, he said nothing as he drove.

Didn’t ask questions. Didn’t bring it up. Didn’t even look at you.

Back to the usual, then.

Pretending like nothing had ever happened. Like this was just another night, another drive. Like escorting you home after dragging you out of a party wasn’t personal, and instead was just part of the job.

As if you were the only one making this complicated. As if you were reading too much into things. Like he hadn’t quite literally shown up, stormed in, and hauled you out after listening to you dry-hump someone else over the phone.

“Are you hungry?” he asked after a moment, the delivery of the question and when he chose to ask it pulling a laugh out of you.

“Really? You came all this way to make sure I’ve eaten dinner?”

“A yes or no would suffice,” he replied, eyes fixed on the road.

“No, Hotch. I’m not hungry. Though I probably would’ve worked up an appetite if Steven had finished what he started.”

His jaw twitched—just slightly—knuckles tightening around the steering wheel. “I’m sure you’re not missing much,” he said flatly. “He seemed a little sloppy.”

“Oh yeah?” you shot back, a bitter little smile curling at your lips. “You got all that just from listening in? Bet you wished it was a FaceTime call instead, huh? Would’ve really completed the picture for you.”

“You think that’s funny?”

You shrugged, fingers busying themselves with pulling apart the loose threads of your denim skirt. “I mean, don’t you? You’re the one who stayed on the line for six minutes just to judge my taste in men.”

“Boys,” he corrected.

“Oh yes, absolutely. Because a man would never string me along. Never make me feel like I’m imagining things. It’s the boys that are the problem.”

He stopped at a red light, using the pause to turn toward you but you shifted immediately, pressing yourself further into the door, angling your body away from him. As far away as you could get without actually jumping out of the car.

“I just don’t think you should be giving your attention to people that don’t deserve it.”

“And where do you think you fall on that scale?” you asked, glancing over at him.

“I don’t.”

You frowned. “You don’t what?”

“I don’t fall anywhere on it,” he replied simply. “I’m not supposed to be on the scale.”

“Right.” You nodded once, popping the t. “Of course not.”

“I—”

“Just take me home, Hotch,” you cut in, turning your body back toward the window. “I’m tired, and, quite frankly, I don’t want to be around you anymore.”

Lies. All of it. Every single word.

You wanted to stay in that car until he cracked. Until he slipped up. Until he admitted something. But there was only so many hits your pride could take in one night, and you were already bleeding from every place that counted.

He obliged to your request, shifting the car back into gear the second the light turned green.

The rest of the ride back was spent in silence. Halfway through you reached for the radio and started flipping through the stations, deliberately landing on the cheesiest pop music you could find, just to irritate him further.

And when he finally pulled into the driveway, you wasted no time reaching for the door handle, but his voice stopped you.

“You don’t have to keep trying so hard.”

You turned to face him. “What?”

He stared ahead, not looking at you. “To get my attention. You already have it.”

Your breath caught, stuck somewhere between disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.

You nodded again, this time managing to successfully open the car door.

“Goodnight, Hotch.”

tags - @fandomscombine @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue @kiwriteswords @anvdala @supersanelyromantic @yourallaround-simp @percysley @writerskive

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds #ssa aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x you #dbf!bodyguard!hotch #dbf!aaron hotchner #mine🌟

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jays-bonnie-on-the-side · 20 days ago

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WHAT’S DONE IN THE DARK, COMES TO LIGHT

PAIRING : sam winchester x fem!reader | dean winchester x fem!reader

SUMMARY : sam and reader have been together a few months. after a night out with her friends, she comes back to the motel, determined to have sex with her boyfriend. too drunk to notice, she climbes into the wrong bed.

WARNINGS : estalished relationship. strong language. fluff. angst. smut. oral (m. receiving). unprotected p in v. daddy kink. misunderstandings. violence. cheating. pining. mutual jealousy. mentions of alcohol.

A/N : had this idea in the archives for a while and thought it was time to share it. hope you like it as much as i did. also, if you need a clue: y/f/n-your friend’s name, y/o/f/n-your other friends’s name. y/n/n- your nickname

You and the boys had a case close to the city your best friends lived in. So, after the gruesome hunt, you catch up with them at their favorite bar. The brothers decide to join, eager to celebrate your victory while meeting your childhood friends. You walk into the bar, hand in hand with your handsome and tall boyfriend, his brother following behind as you search for the girls. Their eyes land on you, and their faces drop.

“Hey!” You shout as you see them making their way through the small crowd.

Letting go of his hand, you wrap your arms around your two best friends. They squeeze you tight, having not seen you in almost a year. It felt so good to be in their presence. You loved the company of the Winchesters, but it was due time to see your girls. And with luck on your side, they dropped all their plans to get together.

“Ugh, I’ve missed you guys!”

They let you breathe, pulling away from the embrace. “We missed you!”

“We’re glad you made it in one piece!”

They knew you were a hunter. You couldn’t lie to them. When you dropped out of college after learning about the supernatural firsthand, you couldn’t find an excuse good enough to tell them why and where you were going; You didn’t want to either. They begged you not to join the life, but they knew that whatever they said, wouldn't stop you.

“Thanks to these two,” You turn and intertwine your fingers with his before facing them again. “Guys, this is my boyfriend, Sam.”

Their eyebrows raise, and their lips curl. “Boyfriend?”

Sam extends his free hand for them to shake. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

“You too,” they say as they each accept his strong hand.

Dean stands beside you, eyeing up the girls. You glance toward him, swallowing your annoyance as you introduce, “And this is his older brother, Dean.”

Like every straight woman, they stare at the gorgeous specimen with hungry eyes. You knew your friends well enough to know what they were thinking. You couldn’t blame them; He’s magnificent to look at. When you began working with the boys, you had the same thoughts, but they vanished once you started dating Sam.

Like his brother, he reaches and shakes their hands. You felt a strange tinge in your body when Dean’s touch lingers. Unsurprisingly, the girls liked it, and pretty soon, they were paying more attention to him than you. After ordering drinks, everyone moves over to the pool table, to play a game of Cutthroat. The match wasn’t much of anything; Dean took turns with them, his arms wrapped around theirs, taking his sweet time to show them how to align and hit the ball just right.

You roll your eyes, feeling jealous, and you aren’t sure why. After prying your eyes away from the scene before you, you lean into Sam. He wraps his strong arm around your waist, kissing the crown of your head. Given he’s much taller, you tilt your chin to the ceiling and meet his gaze. He gives you a small smile, already knowing your request.

He clears his throat and calls over to his brother, “Hey, man, it’s getting kinda late. I’m gonna head out. You ready?”

Dean looks up from your friend and over at Sam. “Late? It’s only 10:30.” Your boyfriend gives him a look, and he takes the hint. “Oh, right.”

“Well, I’ll catch up with you boys later,” Sam pulls you into an embrace, and you whisper in his ear, “Don’t wait up.”

He plants a sweet kiss on your lips before turning his attention to your friends. They smile and give him a quick discussion on the consequences of what’ll happen if he doesn't treat you right. Sam chuckles at their attempt to be threatening but understands where they’re coming from. He would never hurt you, and you knew that. They exchanged their goodbyes with your boyfriend before turning towards Dean.

“Well, ladies, it was nice meeting you. I hope to see you again soon.”

“Maybe we can catch up tomorrow,” “You know, somewhere more private.” They purr in his ear.

It had been a while since his last threesome, and though the attractive women were tempting, he had his eyes on another girl, one that already belonged to someone else. He knew he could never make a move, and he had no choice but to be okay with it. After all, he only has himself to blame for constantly putting his brother’s happiness before his own. He plasters a fake smile and shakes his head at the proposal.

“I would, sweethearts, but the world ain't gonna save itself.”

"You're so brave," one of them fawns.

You roll your eyes for what feels like the tenth time. Hell, you’re surprised they haven’t rolled out of your head already. However, you’re the tiniest bit relieved when he declines their offer. You wouldn’t know who to be more angry with: him or them. Your friends weren’t the kind to have one-night stands but Dean never would’ve guessed. Knowing so, they would’ve gotten attached if they weren’t already. He says a final goodbye before walking towards you and Sam.

“Let’s go before I regret it.”

Sam gives you one last kiss, one that leaves you wanting more, earning a side glance from Dean that no one catches. “Have fun.”

With that, the three of you watch as the handsome brothers leave.

“They’re so hot.”

“How you get any work done is beyond me.”

With a chuckle, you shake your head. “It ain’t easy.”

“I could take them both and not in a fight,” Y/F/N says.

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head at your friend’s quip. Y/O/F/N laughs in agreement. Your mouth had fallen open, taken aback by her blunt honesty. Could you blame her? Not one bit.

“Well? Aren't we all thinking it?”

“Of course not!” You squeak.

“So you’re telling me that you wouldn’t have a threesome with them if the opportunity arose?” she asks, eyebrow raised.

“I mean…” You shrug your shoulders, not wanting to lie but not wanting to tell the truth either.

“Ha! You totally would!”

Shaking some sense back into your head, you speak over the loud, drunken individuals. “I love Sam. I don’t think I’d be with him if Dean and I ever…”

“Fucked?” Y/F/N finishes.

“Yes.”

“I could!” Your second friend shouts.

“I’ll drink to that!” says your first one, holding up her shot glass and waiting for you two to do the same.

You clink glasses and down the hard liquor. The alcohol burns in your throat, almost making you regret drinking it in the first place. You missed your girls. You adored Sam and Dean, but you couldn't get as rowdy and loose in front of them as you needed to sometimes. A few hours had gone by, and you each had switched to water after one too many shots of tequila.

“You’re telling me…tha you‘n Sam…haven’t donnit yet?” Your friend slurs.

You nod but stop when your head begins to spin. “Not once. I think ‘e wants to take it ssslowww.”

“Nuh-uh! You have ‘ta have’a drink from that talllll glass’iv wat-ter.” Your other friend says before raising her empty glass to her lips. She frowns and waves the bartender over. “Can I have’a tall glass of waterr?”

You three burst into laughter at the “coincidence.” The fading alcohol makes you all tear up a bit, making the not-so-funny joke hilarious. The bartender comes over, and sets your friend’s hydration on the counter in front of her, paying half a mind to your boisterous trio. A few minutes had passed and the joke began to die.

“Seriously, Y/N/N. You need to’ride that man, like yesterday!”

“Yeah! You go back to that motel ‘n get dicked down!…Dick him down!”

Despite her words, you knew exactly what she was saying. With confidence, you stand from the bar stool. “Youknow what? I willl! ‘M gonna go and do my boyfriend!”

“Yeah!” The cheer.

After downing the rest of your water, you throw your share onto the bar. “All right, bitches. Ima go get laid,” You wrap your arms around their necks and pull them in for a hug. “I’ll see ya guys, tomorrow.”

“We want alllll the details.”

“You b-better not hold out on us.”

“I promise!”

Fortunately for you, the walk wasn’t long. The motel was down the street from the bar they chose. The cool air helped sober you up, not much but enough to see straight. Once the Impala’s in sight, you smile to yourself. You pull the key out and silently struggle to get it in the keyhole. Finally, you hear the lock click.

“Aha!” You exclaim before shushing yourself.

You push the door open to the dark room. Sam had gone to sleep over an hour before you showed but Dean was wide awake. He couldn’t sleep. He hadn't been able to since he realized he had feelings for you, his brother unknowingly beating him to the punch. The moonlight shined across the floor, eliminating the foot of the beds. You quietly shut the door, and stumble to your duffle bag near the table.

Assuming the Winchesters were asleep, you don’t bother going to the bathroom to undress. You kick off your shoes, holding on to the table to keep your balance. Dean squints in the dark and sees your shadow, watching in secret. You pull your shirt over your head and his eyes widen. He looks away, knowing he shouldn’t watch, but he can’t help himself.

You wiggle out of your jeans, and Dean practically drools. Though the darkness engulfs you, the moonlight peeks through the thin curtains, casting a perfect glow over your curves from where you stand. You were in nothing but your undergarments, causing his pants to tighten. He knew he was wrong for watching you, for wanting you, for being so turned on but it wasn’t his fault. He can’t be blamed for how he felt, especially when you were almost naked in front of him.

Unsure if it was the confidence from the alcohol or the anticipation, you eagerly stroll between the beds. Dean closes his eyes, fearing that you’d catch him staring. You lift the bed sheet and the mattress dips softly beneath your weight. He stirs, forcing you to stop. Once he stills, you move again, this time between his legs. You kneel in front of him, grabbing the front of his jeans. His large hands stop yours, squeezing gently.

“What’re doing?” He whispers.

You push them away, whispering back, “I want you.”

With haste, you unbutton his jeans and yank down his zipper, allowing his boner room to grow. You lower his boxers, enough to expose his untrimmed hair, and though he wants to stop you, his mind clouds with lust as you pepper his pelvis with kisses. He wanted nothing more than you to take him into your pretty little mouth. To feel your lips around him, your cheeks hollowing as you suck harder and harder—no! You couldn’t.

“We can’t, sweetheart.”

“Why not?”

“You’re drunk.”

He heard the drunken drawl and figured you only wanted him while under the influence. Though a pang struck his heart, he would never take advantage of you. Even if that wasn’t the case, even if you did want him, his brother was in the bed beside yours. No, he thought. We can't. He sighs, hating his decision but knowing it was the right one.

“But I’m sober enough to know I want this.” You straddle his hips, setting your heat on his erect and clothed member.

“We shouldn't…” He weakly fights but a gasp escapes once you move.

“Please,” You grind, enticing him with every word. “I want you so bad, baby. I’ve wanted you for sooo long. I’ve dreamt of your perfect cock inside me, filling my pussy with your cum. Please don’t make me wait any more. I need you.”

He bites his lip; He could spill his load right now if he chose to let go. Fuck! You had him so whipped. He couldn’t say no to you, not like this. But his brother invades his thoughts.

“But what about—?”

“What about him? I want you.” You feel his hesitation so you curl your fingers around his shirt, pressing your palms to his abdomen and sliding them up to his chest. You lean down and kiss his tattoo. “Don’t you want me?”

Without missing a beat, he answers, “Fuck, princess, I want you so bad.”

“So fuck me,” You sit up and grab his hand, bringing it to your damp panties. “I’m so wet for you, baby.”

He huffs in shock; You weren’t exaggerating. You were drenched, just for him. His thumb rubs against your folds, smearing the wetness against the soaked underwear. He runs his digit upward, applying light pressure to your aching clit, eliciting a quiet moan from your impatient body. He couldn’t fight it anymore. He needed you just as much as you needed him. He nods, and you see the shadow before you agree.

You nearly squeal with excitement but the quietness reminds you why it has to stay that way. After all, you didn’t want his brother waking up to the intimate and long-awaited scene. You return to your previous position and eagerly pull both his boxers and jeans down. With your face so close, his erection pops out, lightly smacking your cheek. The harmless slap goes directly to your core making it tingle with anticipation.

All you want to do is pounce and bounce on him, but you desperately want to swallow what he’s packing. You drag his pants to his ankles and he quickly kicks them off. Your hand wraps around his member and you’re thrilled by the size. He was thick but not too thick, long but not too long; Like you suspected: He was perfect.

He forces himself to keep still, letting you take charge. His breath quickens as he feels your own fan against his sensitive sack. You take his tightened nut into your hot mouth, sucking gently. His body flinches, not out of discomfort but out of immense pleasure. You stroke his twitching cock as you show love to his other testicle.

His breathing comes out in huffs; He isn’t sure how much longer he’s going to last and you haven’t even taken him in your mouth yet. As if you read his mind, your mouth travels upwards, your tongue licking the underside of his dick until it reaches the tip. Your mouth swiftly closes around it, tasting his delicious pre-cum. His fingers weave through your hair, desperately wanting you to go further but not wanting to rush you.

You get his unsubtle hint and take him down your throat, inch by inch. He throws his head back, loving the way your mouth feels. Needing air, you retract and breathe through your nose. You go down again, your cheeks beginning to hallow. Soon, you determine a steady pace, sucking harder with each bob.

The longer you pleasure him, the wetter you get. Your saliva escapes your mouth, traveling down his shaft and over his balls. He was so close, closer than he wanted to be. He was half tempted to cum down your throat but held off, wanting to fill you elsewhere. You’re so lost in giving him the best head he’s ever received, that you’re confused when he pushes you back.

“W-what? What’s wrong?” You whisper, dazed.

“Get on, sweetheart.”

Your pussy flutters at his words. Finally, you thought. Fingers hooked on the hem of your black lace thong, you drag it down your legs and toss it on the floor. You move so your knees are beside his hips and you hover above his erection. His tip brushes against your drenched folds, causing you to whimper.

His hands fly to your hips, helping you maintain your balance while trying to hide his eagerness. You’re so close to fulfilling his, and your, dreams of being deep inside you. Sure, he was always respectful of you, never objectifying you, but he’s a man after all. Yet, it was more than wanting sex. He wanted that connection; He craved it.

You reach between your legs and take hold of his awaiting phallus. Without prolonging it any longer, you align him with your entrance and slowly ease down. Your head falls back as you each moan softly, finally getting the touch you desire. His wet member and your soaked pussy allow a smooth acceptance and you’re damn thankful for the preparation. Your core meets his base, and you smile at being able to take him fully. After all, he’s bigger than what you’re used to.

He sheds his shirt and rubs your thighs as you adjust to one another. You place your palms against his torso, readying yourself to move. He positions his hands on your hips again, prepared to assist. You lift yourself, and he glides out of your tight hole. His breathing quickens as he watches himself disappear.

The pain of him stretching you out is drowned by the alcohol in your system. If it wasn’t for the liquor, you could’ve sworn you were just drunk on him. It doesn’t take long before you create an unholy rhythm. He was captivated by you. The way your hips roll and your body bounces…It was intoxicating. The line between the best ride he’s ever gotten and it being you was blurred. No, it’s definitely her talent.

What he wouldn’t give to see you and not your shadow. His hand cups your covered breast, squeezing lightly. When it doesn’t suffice, he reaches around and unhooks your bra. After tossing it with your underwear, his fingers twiddle your hardened nipple. Groans and quiet moans fall from both your lips but once his other hand moves to your front, you forget why you were trying to remain silent. His thumb instantly finds your clit, eliciting a loud whimper.

“Shh, sweetheart. ‘Don’t want to wake him up, do you?”

“No, Daddy,” you whine. “‘M sorry.”

The nickname sent chills down his spine and he wanted more. It wasn’t the first time a woman had addressed him that way in bed but you were the only one he wanted to hear it from. It egged him on, so much so that he found himself thrusting up into you, taking control. I’ll show her who her daddy is, he thought.

You moan again, just above a whisper. The hand he used to fondle your breast goes back to your hip, guiding your body up and down, up and down. His hips meet yours and his thumb adds more pressure. You begin to squirm above him, the pleasure raking over your body as it also builds in the pit of your belly. Heavy pants mix with the sweet sound of skin slapping—a symphony to your ears.

With his rhythm so vigorous, and your aching thighs, you were ready to topple over. His thumb rubbed harsh circles on your sensitive clit, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You were so close and so was he, but he refused to cum before you did. His hips snap up, hitting your G-spot with every thrust. Your nails dig into his skin, as you teeter on the edge of your most powerful orgasm yet. Fuck, keep going, Daddy, you thought what your mouth just couldn’t say. Just like that. He knew you were close by the way your walls clenched around his shaft. Just a few more—

“Dean, seriously? You—” The lamp between the two beds is switched on, blinding you and your partner.

Your high’s disrupted. You squint in the light, and when you see your boyfriend sitting up and across from you, your eyes widen. W-what the—? Your head whips to see the man still buried deep inside your guts. D-Dean?!

Suddenly, you become very sober. With a gasp, you push yourself off your deceiver. His mouth was agape, a mix of shock and guilt. We weren’t that loud, were we? But that wasn’t the point. No, he just had sex with his brother’s girlfriend.

Sam’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head. The combination of moans, the collision of skin, and the mattress bouncing had awoken him. He groaned to himself, annoyed his brother would have sex in the same room he lay asleep in. Unable to ignore it, he decides to stop the fornication. What he didn’t expect was to find you on top.

“What the fuck?!” He shouts, throwing off his covers.

“Baby, i-it’s not what you think.”

You’re terrified. It wasn’t your fault, you thought Dean was Sam. In a way, it wasn’t Dean’s, either. He assumed you wanted him. You begged him. It didn’t matter. It was both of your faults. You should’ve known it wasn’t your boyfriend and he should’ve told you no and stuck to it.

“Sammy,” Dean holds his hands in defense. “Hold on a second—”

Sam leaps toward the bed, striking Dean across the face.

“No!” You cry, trying to pull your boyfriend away.

He lands another punch across his brother’s face. And again. You continue your pleas but he doesn’t listen. All he can see is red. You and Dean try to stop his violence but his strength overpowers you both.

“Baby, stop!” You tug his arm once more but he shoves you away.

He doesn’t mean to do it so hard. The force pushes you off the mattress. The room spins, not because you hit your head, but because of the alcohol and complexity of the situation. The possibility of you being hurt, of him hurting you, breaks through his fit of rage. He stops his punishment against Dean’s countenance and checks on you.

You sit up and see Sam with a worried look. Seeing you’re fine, he steps into his shoes before grabbing his duffle bag, and the keys to the Impala. With as much haste as you could gather, you begin to stand. He stomps to the door, throwing it open then storming out. You quickly wrap a sheet around your body before running out of the motel after him.

“Sam, wait!” You jog towards him, trying to catch his attention. “I swear it’s not what it looked like.”

He stops abruptly, and you run into his back. You stumble as he turns on his heel, “Really? ‘Cause it looked like you were fucking my brother!”

You shake your head frantically. “I thought it was you!”

“What? How the fuck do you get him and I confused?!”

“I—It was dark, I was drunk—I am drunk. I forgot which bed was ours,” he stared at you wildly. “Baby, I would never cheat on you. I’m yours, only yours.”

He chuckles darkly, sending shivers down your spine. “Yeah, well, not after this.”

Sam spins around and in a few strides, he’s beside the Impala. The door creaks open and he throws his bag into the passenger seat. He hops in and shuts the classic door behind him. You run towards the car, and put your hand against the glass. Tears begin to well in your eyes, afraid he’s serious. How could he not be? His girlfriend and his brother…the perfect recipe for disaster.

“Please, don’t go. We can work this out,” You plead, your eyes reflecting the desperation.

He ignores you and starts the engine. It roars to life and you’re petrified of the sound. You know if he drives away, it’ll haunt you forever. And that’s what he does. You begin to pound on the window, following the car as it backs out. The tears spill over and your breathing is erratic.

“Don’t go! Please! Sammy, don’t leave! Please, baby, I love you! No, no, no!”

Your boyfriend peels out of the parking lot, leaving you a crying mess. You didn’t know what to feel most ashamed of: The fact you cheated on your loving partner or how good it felt before the light turned on. Back in the motel room, Dean gets dressed. He touches his sore cheek, wincing from the pain. He had heard your confession and he couldn’t have been any more devastated. You thought he was his brother.

What was he thinking? He should’ve known better. It wasn’t the first time he’d taken the girl Sam liked away but this was the first girlfriend. He couldn’t help himself; He’s in love with you. You should’ve been his for the start.

He isn’t sure which is worse: That he might’ve lost Sammy for good, or that he doesn’t regret what happened.

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SAM WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | JOIN THE TAG LIST

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bokutoko · 2 months ago

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ᴀᴋᴀᴀꜱʜɪ confessed his feelings in a handwritten note.

he felt silly, really. a grown man, working a full time job and living on his own as a (mostly) fully functioning adult, and he couldn’t seem to say how much he cared for you to your face? it was a shame how much akaashi’s overthinking truly held him back. he was a handsome man, with a tall, lean—though recently gone softer—build, a full head of soft and healthy hair, and a pair of beautiful chocolate brown eyes that had the ability to bring anyone to their knees.

he was gorgeous.

but his mind betrayed him often, acting as his own worst enemy.

before he psyched himself out this time, though, he grabbed a pen and paper from his desk drawer. before he lost the courage, he wrote a note from the heart, explaining how wonderful you were—how you helped him believe in himself, offered advice and listening ears when needed, and brightened his days every moment you were on his mind—which was all the time, actually.

he hastily folded the note in the envelope, signed your name on the front, and placed it on your desk face-down before you and his other coworkers returned from lunch break.

hopefully, you’d see it.

and you did see it. reading every word over and over and over, your cheeks felt hot, stained scarlet.

akaashi didn’t want to look, but even if you didn’t feel the same, it was like a trainwreck—he couldn’t look away. in his peripheral, he saw—

you putting the letter away like it was nothing?!

his brows furrowed, confusion settling over his features. he was expecting you to at least meet his gaze; he wanted to see your pretty eyes, even if it was you rejecting him.

but then again, he shouldn’t have been surprised. you were ethereal, destined to be his version of the epitome of beauty, his definition of divinity. you were intelligent, quick to match wits with any man who dared to challenge your skills in the workplace. you were incredibly funny—to the point that his drink (embarrassingly) once shot out of his nose at dinner when you told a story (he went home and took a shot of something stronger afterwards).

how could you, the embodiment of perfection, love a man like him, who fought gruesome wars in his mind on the daily?

this was, of course, until later that evening where you both were out at dinner with mutual friends. you mentioned an anonymous note, and that was when akaashi realized.

he forgot to sign the letter.

a/n: oh, akaashi…🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️

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misstycloud · 11 months ago

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Shapeshifter x fem.reader

“Please stop.” You whimpered, shaking like a leaf.

The creature crouched down to your level and whispered in a soothing voice- it didn’t have the desired effect, though. “Why? Don’t be scared, I would never hurt you. There’s no need to be so frightened.”

“….just leave me alone..”

“No I can’t do that. I love you (Y/n). You’re everything to me. You don’t understand the depth of how much I need you.” He- it- pleaded.

You scoffed despite the inner turmoil. “Well, feelings not mutual.”

He sighed and shook his head slowly. “Why can’t you understand? I just love you so much.” He caressed your hands while staring straight into your eyes. It felt like he was unveiling your soul, like you couldn’t hide from that look, no matter what. “I,” he started, “can be whoever you want me to be. I can be whatever you wish.”

Suddenly, he started changing. It was like something was alive underneath his skin, that wanted to move and reshape the shell it was inside. Slowly, but surely, its features morphed into someone else.

This new shape was clearly tall, even when he was still couching. He looked a little rugged, wi the jet black hair and also at as equally dark grey eyes. He was muscular, too.

“Would this be better?” He asked in a deep voice, tilting his head in wonder. “Would you like someone like this- someone who can protect and care for you? Someone who wouldn’t hesitate to get into a bar fight to defend your honour.”

You looked away and shut your eyes.

“I see.” He said. “So this is not your type, then?”

Once more, you heard the familiar sound of flesh and bones. And against you better judgement, you glance his way again.

This time, he was not as muscular. In fact he was quite thin, but still tall. Messy brown hair shot in all directions, coverering his forehead, it almost shielded his face entirely from view.

“Or is this better?” He gave you a dorky smile. “A nerd? Someone who can relate to your interests and become just as engrossed in them as you. Wouldn’t that be nice? We could talk for hours about the things we like.”

You shook your head hastily. Rejecting his suggestion.

“Or maybe not.” He sighed.

The sound of flesh moving followed and you looked away, not wishing to see the peak of the gruesome transformation, before facing him again.

This new body was considerably shorter than the previous two. It was one of a mousy young man, appearing to be in the beginnings of adulthood.

“If you like being the one in control, I wouldn’t mind. I think this form would fit for that, you see. I’d be nice to be dominated by you. You wouldn’t have to hold back from anything, you could be completely in charge if that’s what you desire?”

You remained silent.

“I take that as a ‘no’, then.” He stopped for a few seconds, thinking, then the smile retuned. “Wait, I can’t believe I didn’t think this.”

Suddenly the young man disappeared and a woman took his place. She was gorgeous by all means. Her long blonde hair flowed in waves down her back. Her curvaceous form would have any person staring.

“I apologise. I should have asked if you would prefer a woman instead, my mistake. Now, finally, is this desireble?”

“I told you to stop. I don’t want any of this- I don’t want you. I don’t want to be near you. Leave me alone, please.” You cried in desperation. Hoping it would be able to push away the creature for good. But you knew it was a foolish dream for it to become bored with you.

The woman hushed you and took you into her arms. “Shhh, shhh, it will all be fine. No need to worry about anything. You’ll be good, I promise. I will take care of you.” She tried comforting you by patting your back like a mother consoling her crying child. “And don’t worry. It doesnt matter how long it’ll take, but I will find the right form eventually. You will just love it~.”

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#oc #yandere oc #male yandere #obsessed #possesive #misstycloud oc #toxic #yandere x reader #yandere shapeshifter x reader #yandere shapeshifter #Yandere monster #Yandere monster x reader #female yandere

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pinkhoodi · 1 year ago

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bat dads or girl dads ? girl dads !

✎ᝰ — bat boys as girl dads !

♡⃕ — bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd x reader

♡⃕ — genre + warnings: fluff + children ??

♡⃕ — a/n: dick as a father would make me- nvm that !

꒰ BRUCE WAYNE ꒱

Ꮺ “no” rarely exists and he realized that a while ago. when his beautiful daughter was first born, he would be stern (still loving) and make sure to deny any of his daughter’s requests. as years go and his daughter gets older, it becomes harder to say no to his precious child

Ꮺ he won’t admit it but it’s something about her adorable features that make it harder and harder to say no. even if it’s the most wildest request, he’ll try to accomplish it or tell her “I’ll think about it”. the cute pout, the ways her eyes widen, and her adorable going please please please dad. how can he say no :(

Ꮺ BUT if he can’t obtain that request, his favorite excuse is “I’ll think about it”. even when his daughter catches onto his games, he’ll continue use it and just throw on an extra lie to help out

Ꮺ bruce is the dilf that everyone flirts with and it’s exhausting for him. he tries to avoid pta meetings at all costs but can’t cause his daughter loves those meetings. while the women flirt, the daughter gets free cookies ;p

Ꮺ this man bruce is studying long and gruesome hours on how to raise a girl. raising his eldest son at ten years old is the closest thing he had and it wasn’t helping. prepare yourself for the “am I doing this right?” “is this good for her?” “are you sure this is what we should give her?”

Ꮺ surprisingly, he became quickly accustomed to his bat cave and his office being glittered and glammed. the buttons on the monitor have stickers and his batmobile having a bow on it

Ꮺ learning from his mistakes from his other children, he will try to leave little to no detail about his night activities to his daughter. she knows about the bat cave (due to exploring and being bored in the mansion) but he refuses to take her on missions and don’t allow her to be in the bat cave if the mission is extremely dangerous

Ꮺ daddy-daughter days is something bruce prioritizes! he doesn’t care what is planned before or after that, he’ll make one day every month to spend time with his daughter. whether it be going to the mall, the movies, spending the day at a kids play center, or even napping. that day in his calendar is meant for his daughter and his daughter only

꒰ JASON TODD ꒱

Ꮺ the most laidback father you could ever meet BUT he knows when it’s time to be concerning and when it’s time to be the fun dad

Ꮺ the man almost passed out when his gorgeous daughter was born. he couldn’t take how adorable his lil girl was in the room, he had to step out and started crying. he couldn’t believe he’s a father now :(

Ꮺ it does take jason time to adjust being a father. his patience isn’t the best but he is learning ! he tries as much as he can to unpack all his bad qualities and become better for his daughter before she was born

Ꮺ as much as he is laidback, he is also very cautious and makes sure to have all his weapons away and locked up from his daughter. he refuses to let ANY incident happen just cause he was being careless

Ꮺ he is one to always allow his daughter to decorate his face, no matter how ridiculous he looks. he’ll gladly pose with stickers on his eyelids, three bows on his head and one tied on his wrist, and heart glasses on if it makes his daughter happy

Ꮺ his daughter is lowkey his mood maker. he won’t admit but however his daughter feels is how HE feels. but he won’t take it out on her, absolutely not ! if she’s grumpy, he’s grumpy with her. she’s hungry ? he’s hungry as well. even if he’s feeling fine, he’ll play along with her so she can get what she want from YOU (mischievous mfs mmcht)

꒰ DICK GRAYSON ꒱

Ꮺ the most girliest dads of all girl dads <333. he’s there for any and everything and is NEVER one to say no to his daughter. though sometimes he doesn’t realize when to be a disciplined dad and a fun dad

Ꮺ he’ll make sure to never, and I mean never, have his daughter follow into the life that he is in. as much he enjoys saving gotham and bludhaven, he refuses to let his daughter lead into a life of danger and being unsure of whether or not he’ll be home soon

Ꮺ he has an endless amount of pics of him and his daughter. his lockscreen is you and him holding her at six months old, his homescreen being his daughter at one years old, and even his voicemail is him and his daughter saying hi and sorry to miss your call

Ꮺ being a dad is something dick cherishes so much and he’ll gift everything his child wants and more. he’ll do any and everything to have his daughter be happy, even if he can’t get it

Ꮺ between him and his daughter, the exchanges of “I love you dad” and “I love you more” happen more on his side. many “I love yous” as the two of them giggle and he kisses her forehead. they’re so cute :(

Ꮺ unlike bruce, he loves going to pta meetings. he does get uncomfortable with the flirting from other moms but he’s really only there for the free treats and how to better improve his daughter’s education

Ꮺ the biggest gift giving dad as well ! he likes coming home with a surprise in his hand and hearing his daughter gasp and smile at the gift in his hand. it warms his heart when she says thank you and hugs his leg tightly, nearly squeezing it with the gift in her hand

Ꮺ the two nap a lot together. it’s one of dick’s favorite pastime when he’s relaxing with crime fighting

♡⃕ the bat boys as girl dads ☹️🫶🏽. it would be uber cute seeing jason walk into his helmet decorated in barbie stickers

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: 2 thessalonians 3:3

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ilovetoxicfictionalmen · 1 year ago

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SOLD!

Pairing - Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Summary - You’re locked away in the Arrow House. Until your abductor returns to bear the good news.

Warnings - Noncon, dubcon, p in v, smacking, rough, virginity loss, breeding implications, mean tommy.

Word Count - 1.5k+

Despite the fire being lit across the room, your body shivered underneath the thick blankets on the king sized bed. The lamp stayed on most nights, you were too distressed to turn it off. It had been weeks – months even since you’ve been confined in this mansion, Arrow House.

You lost track of counting the days, your mind slowly danced with the sensation of being stir-crazy. None of the domestic workers spoke to you unless necessary, all of the men kept their eyes low around you. For the men who wore peaked caps, their eyes stalked you, awaiting a sudden move on your behalf. The only company you were allowed was the son of the household, Charlie.

For the first time since being here, the door creaked open loudly. As your head shot up, you instinctively pulled the sheets up to your chin as your body curled into a ball. Finally he had returned, your abductor stood like a statue in the doorframe, his jacket already removed. If it wasn’t so dark on the other side of the room, you’d be able to see his demeaning smirk.

Whenever you saw Thomas Shelby, you only shared a couple of sentences together, he wanted to keep you in the dark of whatever sinister plans he had with you. He came and went, an addicted businessman he was, likewise to your father. After all, they both had empires to watch over, to rule and to use in battle. How were you so foolish to let the Peaky Blinder Devil’s eyes wander into your soul and drag you to his depths of Hell.

“Hi darling” his words spoke slowly, it was intimidating as he slowly approached you until he was standing right next to you. “Are you excited for tomorrow?” He tilted his head to you as his weight dipped into the bed, his shoes off now.

“What’s tomorrow?” your timid voice squeaked out, your eyes peeking out from the covers.

Tommy breathed out in contempt and laid next to you, he tugged the sheets down enough to see your gorgeous face.

“We’re finally getting married, my love” he smiled in a trance of love and obsession.

You choked out a sob and couldn’t help but to shake your head at the thought of marrying the ruthless Thomas Shelby. Being cursed by the Shelby name, you’ve heard the stories with their gruesome deaths.

Tommy cooled you and pulled down the covers to your knees, his body straddled your hips as he whispered soothing words into your ear to help calm you. “No, no… It’s okay, your father gave us his blessing. Our families will finally be united, unstoppable is the word he used” he smiled softly, almost innocently as he believed that would ease all of your stresses.

But when your head rapidly shook underneath him, his smile dropped. He planted his elbows next to your ears to warn you, but you stubbornly continued to deny the truth.

“Please no! I’m already engaged! I have a fiance Tommy! I- I need to talk to him!” You explained desperately.

As you tried to push your upper body up, he pushed you back down.

“I am your fiance!” Tommy roared, his hot breath gusted over your mouth, his fingers now twirled into your hair as he tugged your head back. “You’ll talk to no one without my permission” he growled into your ear.

“Please Tommy let me go!” You pleaded pathetically as tears continued to stream down your flustered cheeks.

You felt yourself start to hyperventilate underneath him, you couldn’t breathe or think anymore. Thomas Shelby was going to be the death of you. As your hands gripped onto his biceps for a reminder of reality, you tried to control your breathing, stop your crying, but you had been holding it all in for weeks. Everything has driven you insane.

“There, there… Let it all out little one… Let go off all of your stresses” Tommy coached as he stroked your damp cheek.

Your eyes darted to his and your teeth gritted together. Abruptly, you tried to fight him off of you. Foolish even to believe that you actually had a chance.

“No, get off of me!” You demanded harshly, Tommy’s expression didn’t flinch.

A forceful backhand to your left cheek silenced you momentarily, then as the realization settled in, you started to mewl again severely. Tommy tutted to you and rubbed your stinging flesh as you couldn’t stop crying, your heart pounding in your chest.

“That’s it… Let it all go… Can’t have you be all emotional for our big day eh?” Tommy grinned as he felt his cock twitch in his trousers. His dark eyes lingers over your body. “Fuuckkk… I don’t think I can wait another day” he mumbled to himself, gently pressing his hips into yours.

Your sobs stopped suddenly as you looked at him with wide eyes. After a deep exhale, he smiled at you before quickly taking off his shirt. You laid frozen underneath him momentarily.

“Please… Don’t do this, I-I’m a–” you blubbered out, completely lost for words as you watched him unbuckle his belt.

He fell back over you and roughly kissed your neck, his teeth nipped at your skin. You could smell the whisky and smoke on his body. Tommy’s rough, cold hands ran over your bare shoulders. For bedtime, you were only allowed to wear a silk dress gown, with nothing else underneath.

“It’ll be our little secret… No one will know except us eh?” He grinned by your ear as his hands worked to get his hard length out.

“Tommy please! Anything else!” You begged for mercy, your hands weakly pressed against his shoulders.

Tommy huffed at you as he stroked himself and you couldn’t help but to squeal as you felt him poke against your upper thigh, he felt thick and long.

“Must I teach you obedience? My dear wife-to-be” Tommy threatened with a firm slap to your side.

After you cried a little more you told him no and he nodded his head in approval. For his pleasure, he kissed you from your torso all the way up to your jaw as he slowly stroked himself. Whilst you laid stiff, your body trembled lightly as you watched him fearfully.

“Can I have a kiss, my dear?” He asked softly as he looked up to you.

All you could do was squeak out in compliance and he gently pressed his lips to yours. Quickly his tongue slipped into your mouth as his hands caressed your hips, his cock pumped against your inner thigh. Tommy moaned into your mouth and you whimpered into his.

One of his hands slipped up to your bare pussy and you yelped out. Quickly he hushed you before kissing you again as his fingers played with your folds before two gradually pushed themselves inside of you. Since your mouths were connected, it quietened your painful groans whilst your legs squirmed around. After he was able to fit a third digit into your tight hole, he pulled them all out and licked them clean.

“Let me show you how I’ll take care of you everyday” he gasped as he teased your entrance with his tip.

“Please I’ve never-!” You objected.

But he only shushed you and coached you to breathe as he roughly tried to push himself inside of you. You cried out in agony, your walls clenching in resistance as he continued on. Tommy muttered to himself about how tight you were and he rubbed your tits through your dress.

Eventually, his large member was buried deep inside of you, his hands intertwined with yours as he rested on you for a moment, both of you trying to steady your breath before the worst came into play. Tommy was whispering praises into your ear. You were so tight and warm for his cock. Lightly, you were cursing, blubbering and sniffling. Tommy gave you a soft peck on the lips to grab your attention.

“How do you feel?” He asked sternly.

“Full” you choked out, your face tear stained.

“That’s a good thing” he nodded, his hips ready to unlock just to lock again. “You ready?” Tommy raised an eyebrow to you.

“No” you sniffled, your lower lip trembling.

It went ignored as he started to slowly thrust his massive size inside of your tight canal. Your hands shot up to his back and you held onto him for dear life as his pace gradually picked up. Both of you were moaning in unison as he began to slip in and out of you more smoothly.

“Fuck… You’re going to look after my son. Then give me some more children. You’ll always keep the bed warm for me. Distress me whenever necessary. In return, I’ll give you whatever you want. Take you to whatever fucking country you want to go to” he explained his proposition calming despite how quick his hips were snapping into you.

“Tommy please” you gasped out.

“Yes, now scream how good of a wife you want to be for me” he moaned as his hands went to your hips and he thrusted more viciously into you.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #smut #dark smut #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #peaky blinders

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risuola · 1 year ago

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V — SILENT PROMISE // Sukuna thought he won't bend, but the sight of you made him question himself.

contents: blood, usage of weapon, reader discretion is advised — 1,5k words

ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | masterlist

You were wet, your breath was heaving and your heartbeat rumbling in your head.

You were trembling.

Bleeding.

The red iron stung your eye, made your hair stuck to your temple and cheekbone. Pain pulsated, spreading its waves around your skull, focusing right where the wound was somewhere underneath the strands of your wet hair — a mark left by the grip of a gun that hit your head hard.

You coughed.

Yet another splash of ice-cold water hit you in the face and you weren’t ready. Again. Your clothes were soaked, sticking to your body in a harsh cocoon of fabric. Your light-blue t-shirt translucent against your skin, stained with blood that dripped from your face. You felt exposed, cold. It was humiliating, having all four of the men around you look and snort at every shiver that run down your spine. They seemed amused, they were amused to torture you.

Someone grabbed your hair, pulling the wet locks violently and forcing you to look up, to tilt your head back. Something sharp touched your neck, poking and prodding at your delicate flesh on the side of your throat.

“I don’t know anything,” you whimpered, before the question was asked once more. What do you know about Sukuna Ryomen? You heard that already twenty times and each of them was a little lower, a little more cruel, a little more violent.

Fact is, you couldn’t even recall how you got into the dimly lit room lined with cold concrete and furnished with steel. One moment you were heading home with a bag of snacks and the most gorgeous, most red strawberries you found in the store and in the next, you were here — tied up with the very same strawberry red running down your face.

The ropes were digging into your flesh, partially taking away the circulation and your hands felt numb, tied behind the backrest of a metal chair. You could feel your skin ripping underneath the roughly textured bounds, it stung every time you were yanked around or hit by someone. It wasn’t humane, you didn’t do anything, you shouldn’t be treated like that—

“I’m sure you can tell us something. Sooner, the better, princess.”

—but you were. The men around you were kind enough to explain the situation to you before the terror began. Apologized even, but they didn’t seem sorry when the first pain was inflicted on you. When they screamed and threatened, they didn’t seem sympathetic or regretful. No. It was pleasurable for them, you saw it in their eyes, on their faces. Pathetic joy that they got from torturing someone like you.

You felt the blade press its way into your skin and it stung. A hot drop of, what you only assumed was blood run down the side of your neck and along your collarbone, sinking finally into the ruined fabric of your blouse. The cut was shallow, you could tell as much, but it still sent yet another jolt of fear throughout your body. You felt your heart going wild inside your chest and you held your breath, afraid to move too much when the knife was that close to your throat.

“I really don’t know you fucking asshole!” You groaned the moment he took the weapon away. The stress and fatigue made you lose your temper but you were determined to not cry, no matter how much you wanted to and god knows you wanted to wail.

* * *

“Seeing something familiar?”

Sukuna felt in real time how the blood in his veins was turning into fire. Rage — indescribable and heavy — was taking over his thoughts and his muscles were twitching. His shoulders, up until now relaxed, squared up. His brows furrowed, a crease formed between them and the look of his eyes became cold and dreadful. Menacing.

“How unwise,” he spoke, his voice low and dangerous. The officer in front of him flinched, bending underneath the gruesome, unnerving aura that turned the air in the room into a thick substance, impossible to breathe in. Despite his best effort to hide his nerves, the droplets of sweat gave all away. Sukuna smiled, grinned in a way that’s thirsty, in a way that craves blood and pain. “You’re getting very nervous, detective.”

“Cooperate and all of that will soon be over,” the man said, struggling to hold the gaze of the criminal that’s now leaning towards him, asserting his nightmarish dominance over the situation.

“Oh, it will be over soon, but I doubt you’ll be happy with the results.”

“We predicted you might not be thrilled to see this girl interrogated, and—”

“That is what you call an interrogation? Beating a little girl? It seems like my ways of dealing with people are more humane than the ones of police.”

“Unfortunately, it’s the mean to an end. You are too valuable of a capture, it gave us a green light to use every method possible to get what we want from you and that includes torturing this hardly innocent little girl.”

Sukuna scoffed. Then laughed — the sound of it ominous and loud. His head tilted backwards and he leaned against the backrest. He knew how it worked; he used those very same methods to get what he needed in life. He threatened women, he threatened children but, in his etiquette, violence against those groups was forbidden. Fear, yes, but physical abuse not and he stood by those rules, enforcing them on his pawns. He used those methods because they were effective. Not a single man in love, not a single husband or father, stayed strong for long when a wife or a kid was on the line. They always bent.

Was he now one of those men who bend?

“A mean to an end, huh?”

“It’s either you or her. You can tell us what we want to know and she’ll be safe and sound, with no charges to her name. You can also keep up the stubborn and we’ll see how much she can take. If that doesn’t work, we can also put her to prison and, I assure you, she’ll be very popular over there. Female inmates love to play with newbies.”

Sukuna couldn’t imagine you being in jail. You were too fragile, too sensitive to be incarcerated, you belonged in silk and flowers, not steel and concrete. You deserved to be free and now they threatened to encage you? Very, very unwise.

* * *

“I didn’t cry, you know?”

“You’re one very, very brave kitten, are you not?” Sukuna cooed, holding you tight to his chest and kissing the torn skin around your wrists for the nth time. He’s got you in a cocoon of his own jacket, on the back seat of a black car driven by one of his pawns. You were tired, exhausted, but happy to see him, to feel him.

The praise made you giddy, his menacingly loving tone made your heart bang against your ribs despite there being no danger anymore. You still shivered due to your wet clothes but now it was somehow bearable. Now, with a large, mighty body next to you and callused hands gripping you tightly, the discomfort of wet clothing was just a nuisance. You were smiling, nuzzling into him, craving the touch you’ve been stripped off for way too long. Nearly three whole weeks you spent without seeing Sukuna, neglected of his warmth and once you saw him again, you realized that the constant of danger that followed him has got you hooked.

“I missed you,” you said into the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin that poked through the metallic hint of blood and plain smell of soap he had to use while in jail. The jacket you had wrapped around your upper body carried his expensive perfume — rich and woody, smoky note of tobacco and vanilla. It was sexy, spicy with a touch of sweetness that you couldn’t get enough of.

“Me too, sweet thing, me too.”

Sukuna exhaled, allowing the tension away from his shoulders. Despite the crime he just committed — another one to his name — he felt at ease, because you were safe. The moment he saw, not more than an hour ago, the fear in your eyes; the moment one of the officers ripped your shirt open and used the knife to snap one of your bra straps, his patience snapped as well. It didn’t take him long to put down the detective that was assigned to him — headbutting him so hard he passed out cold. Once he undid the chains, he was out the door and searching for you, fighting his way through the officer-packed halls until your frame came into sight.

“Ryomen—” you gasped out, once your beautiful eyes landed on him and he could have sworn they glittered in the dim, dirty lights around. There was a cheer in your voice, a melody of joy and relief and at the moment he couldn’t care any less about the violence he was exuding. He needed the men around you down and you out of here. And he’s got you out quickly, carrying you in his arms and towards the car that waited for him.

That’s how he’s got you there, trembling against him but safe. Whilst kissing your wounds, he made silent promises to never let that happen again.

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saradika · 3 months ago

Text

— liminal.

din djarin x f!reader

rated e - 4.2k

tags: snippets in time, amnesia, winter soldier-esque trigger-words, implied brainwashing/cult!au, angst, descriptions of wounds, yearning, soft smut & piv, outdoor sex, canon-typical violence and death (bounty hunters), ‘darksaber is haunted’ vibes, unhappy ending

a/n: gorgeous moodboard is from the angst challenge hosted by the lovely @almostfoxglove! was so excited to contribute to freya’s event!

If there was a past, he has forgotten it. But you’ll help him remember.

You’ll make new memories with him.

(or - you find yourself spending the summer with a stranger who can't seem to remember anything about his life. And you might just be falling for him, too.)

Twelve weeks have passed since your stranger slipped headlong into your life.

Sudden, in the way you found him, stumbling into the aftermath.

You had thought him a machine, with the way the metal armor had encased him, glittering in the sun. The dome of his helmet, seemingly still and unblinking - a single figure, amongst the dead around him.

The sight was gruesome - red spilled across the ground, darkening to umber where it seeped into the earth, and you still shielded away from the memory of it.

A yelp, when he had stirred. You hadn’t been able to leave him behind. Even then, you had known he had needed your help.

It took another week for his wounds to heal, even with your care.

Vicious things, the tears in his side. A glimpse of bone and sinew in the tender space beneath his armpit - a weak, unprotected spot. A dagger still buried in his thigh that you had had to tug free - the limp still slipping to the surface on rainy days.

Bacta was an expensive commodity, but you had given him all you had stored. Smeared carefully across his wounds before you bandaged them - how alive he had been, then. Your hand pressed against a bare chest, his heart thrumming beneath.

It knitted him back together but hadn’t fixed everything.

His head must have been hit hard. There’s no memory of the battle. If his friends or family were amongst the fallen, what had lead to the fight in the first place.

There were no memories of where he came from. Of his home - his look blank, when you carefully prod.

Why he was here.

“If there is a past,” He told you, “I have forgotten it.”

Even his name is shrouded, lost inside him.

A ‘hey’ and a ‘you’ is enough in the time that followed, as he trails behind you like a shadow. Shaking off your questions - the rapid-fire trying of titles, to see if one feels familiar. Unmoored and left adrift - your small home and bit of land are the only spaces that felt familiar.

So, you let him stay.

The shadow sticked, melding with your own.

It’s been ten weeks since he removed his helmet.

You hadn’t pushed.

His grip was firm that first day - catching roughly around your wrists as your fingers hooked along the edge. Unyielding. No words spoken, but you had understood, even then. Leaving him to his own devices, letting him eat in the guest room you cleared for him.

Until a morning comes, when you catch yourself looking into a pair of eyes. Warm and brown beneath dark curls that spill across his forehead - and even then, something behind your ribs had hitched.

The movement slow as the helmet had lifted fully, with hands that hesitated. A stiffness in the way it was set down on the table beside him as you doled out breakfast, as if there's something about it.

An urge to keep it near, though he did not know why.

Like he shouldn’t, but there are no words to explain why he felt this way. Just the same sense of knowing that kept him in his armor every day. The routine in the way each piece snapped into place, down to the short hilt of black metal at his belt, though there had been no blade.

You had examined it yourself, once. While he slept, fingers traced over the handle, each groove. Hot beneath your touch, a sharp wash of unease had pulled your hand away.

It’s written across his face - the lines near the drawn-tight pull of his mouth.

Without the helmet, he could not hide.

Despite how much he does not know, you can read him. Even when his words come slowly and quietly.

In the days that followed, everything flickered across his expression. A furrow of his brow in concentration. The quirk of his lips when you said something funny. Those eyes sliding away, as his hand scratches at the scruff lining his jaw.

A flicker of worry, under the heat of summer. Reacting to the hiss that slipped from you when you burned the side of your wrist, working on repairs to your speeder. The barest brush of a hand at your hip, as he moved you out of the way.

Something innate alighting inside him, as he finished welding the piece himself. The bright sparks glanced off his armor, stars in the afternoon light.

Finding his voice, as time passed. Uncovering that edge that must have always been inside him. Sharp snark, and a sense of humor that could rip a surprised bark of a laugh, from deep in your chest.

And when you’d caught his matching rumble after, it felt like a triumph.

Eight, since he gave you something.

The sun dipped low, bathing your cabin in orange and purple. Exhaustion weighing down your limbs, after another long day of gathering fruit for your stall at the market. Hours spent standing in the shade of the trees, but it hadn’t made the heat much more bearable.

Though you had to admit - time passed much more pleasurably, with his addition.

It had been hard at first, to pick out what to say, when he had no stories to pull from. When everything he knew had melded together, unsure of what was dream and what may have existed.

You filled the space instead. Your own stories not much to tell, but you could feel the weight of his gaze often. Small comments and questions, when silence stretches out. Encouraging you to continue.

Conversation turning easier, with each passing day.

A dutiful presence at your stall. Catching everything - a leashed hound at your side, hackles ready to bristle. As much of a fixture as the handmade wooden crates, lined with soft linen. The hand-carved sign, passed down by your father’s father.

And in the quiet, evening light, he had plucked it free. A bruised jogan fruit from the basket at your feet - the word tumbling from him around a mouthful, teeth sinking into the purple flesh.

“Din.” Chewing, then swallowing, “I think that is my name.”

Your eyes had bounced to his. Dripping down to the tongue that had peeked out against his lip, before slowly repeating.

“Yeah?” You asked, before trying it for yourself.

“Din.”

It tasted sweet.

Fruit-ripe against your lips, and you had found yourself smiling.

Six weeks, since your lips had first touched to the nape of his neck.

Fitting together in your tiny bathroom, with the stone walls curling in.

Din’s back had been to you. Head bowed as you trimmed the grown-long curls, skin sticky with heat. His armor was in a neat stack at his feet, shoulders bared.

Mirroring your first few days together - but so different.

Your fingers had traced over the silver at his temples, catching in the warm light of your bathroom. Meaning hidden, in the careful touch.

It felt easier than it should be.

Natural.

And deep down, you thought it should scare you.

Maybe it does. At night, when you’re tucked into bed. Caught thinking about the man in the other room - who he might be. Where he came from, what higher power had guided him down here, to you.

But then you see him - the crinkle of his eyes and that easy routine. Looks exchanged that you’re not sure how to interpret, as if in a language only he knows.

Ones you never learned the words for.

And you just - forget.

You hadn’t been able to help it.

The dip of your head.

A chaste kiss pressed against the notch of his spine, right at the nape of his neck.

Summer lingered in his hair. Soaking in the sun and the wind off the lake - a hint of shampoo, when your nose brushed against his curls.

He smelled like home. Like you, mixed with leather and metal and man.

Din’s shoulders strung tight where your palm pressed, the soft inhale of breath that you almost missed.

You caught his eyes in the mirror, after.

When they opened again.

Where they had snagged. Watching every little movement - the careful brush of clippings from his skin. The touch that he had leaned into.

They burned, in the hazy reflection. A different kind of heat bloomed over your skin, and you thought, maybe-

Maybe he felt it, too.

Things had changed, four weeks ago.

The surface of the lake had been like glass, stretching out from the grove of trees.

Your favorite place - you’d spend all day out here if you could. Shirking responsibilities for a few hours beneath the branches, watching the sun change the water from blues to pinks and purples.

Something you had decided you were doing, today.

Your market stall was doing well. Picking extra fruit the day before - working longer, later, for this.

Din’s look dubious, when you told him you were going in. Those eyes caught between watching and turning away, as your shirt was peeled off.

Left behind with your boots, socks, and pants.

Scattered across an old blanket, the pattern sun-bleached and faded.

A shiver wracked through you, at the cool cling of the water. A balm to the heat, soothing all those weeks spent working.

Step after step, as you had let the lake surround you. Head tipped up, as you let the water mute everything.

And underneath the clouds, you had let yourself go under.

There was a splash, at the shore.

The catch of the sun against metal, left amongst the thick grass. Half-undressed already, as he had rushed to follow once again.

Din’s hand had curled around your bicep - pulling you to the surface, leaving you sputtering.

Worry, etched in the lines of his face, when your eyes had opened.

You had laughed.

Not meaning to - his brows furrowing as you explained.

“I’m fine.” You grinned, “It’s just a lake. I’m not drowning”.

His heart hammered beneath the press of your palm. Fingers smooth against your skin, goosebumps raised with the prickle of wind.

With more than that, if you were being honest.

Even now, you’re not sure who had moved first.

Maybe you both did. A part of your lips and the tilt of your head, and suddenly, his mouth was covering yours.

His rough groan echoed your soft sigh, as arms wrapped around your waist to crush you against him.

Melding yourself against bare skin, as you opened for the lick of his tongue.

The kiss had been clumsy. Clicking teeth and churning water as you grasped at each other. Unable to get enough, now that you’d begun.

But there’d been something practiced in the way he touched you. In the cup of his palm as he felt your warmth, thrust beneath the surface of the lake.

How he tucked you beneath him on the blanket, back at shore. A knee shifting as it pressed into your thigh, opening you up for him further. The weight of him as his hips rolled - separated by thin, soaked fabric.

You can still remember the way he groaned against your mouth when you tugged on his curls. How his skin felt feverish to your touch, and you knew yours must have faired the same - those weeks of wondering and wanting building. Taking off full tilt, and neither of you wanted to stop.

His hand had slipped to cup the back of your head, as your hips lifted. A rough sound when you brushed against the straining weight of his cock - tentative at first, and then desperate.

“Tell me I can have you.”

Another roll of his hips, and heat bloomed in your belly, as a confession slipped free. Husked into the shell of your ear.

“I haven’t wanted anything the way I want you.”

Your breath hitched, as something in your stomach bloomed. Clinging to him even tighter, as he nosed against your throat.

“You can’t know that.”

But out of everything, this had been one thing he was certain of. Drawing back until he hovered above you, blotting out everything else.

“I do.” It was soft. Emphatic, as his fingers kept your face tilted up to meet his, “I just know it. Can feel it, when I’m with you.”

It’s enough.

What remained was tugged off, left among the grass. The ragged groan warm against your skin when he finally sank to the hilt inside you, your cry lost among the lapping waves and birdsong.

Learning each other in new ways, committing each second to memory.

“Please-“ It slipped from you.

Your peak had dangled just out of reach, inching closer each time you took him fully. Your thighs hooked around his hips, driving him deeper. Needing more.

“I know, cyar’ika.” He mouthed at your throat. Teeth scraped against skin, needing his mark to linger, “Feels so fucking good. I shouldn’t have waited. I-“

The rest was lost, in the snap of his hips. The admission, the sweet name coming from a place deep inside him, as something forgotten slipped free.

Gold had burst behind your lids. The sunlight was demanding, filtering through as you drifted among the clouds.

Never knowing bliss like this, until him.

It snatched your breath, as your heart galloped away from you. Thrumming down and around him as he growled your name - before he followed, just as he always did.

Content to sink into your embrace.

After - your fingers traced over sun-warmed skin.

An ache in your chest, at the split slash at his hip. The healed blaster wound on his chest. Another mark against his ribs, one that had long faded.

A dozen others, cut into the planes of his torso.

He let you, as he sank into the grass. Head tipped up, eyes closed as you trace out words you’re not ready to say.

Biting them back, from the tip of your tongue.

Ones that echo his from before.

Ones about wanting. Needing.

You’d make new memories with him.

You’d help him remember if that’s what he wanted. Write down every detail, until he could see the bigger picture.

Until he could piece things back together.

It might take time - but in that pocket of summer, it didn’t matter.

Together, you’d have plenty of that.

It’s been two weeks now, since you’ve spent every night together.

The evening after the lake had been an unspoken thing. An entwining of hands again, and you had led him into your space.

His few things mixed with yours in the nights that came after, the bed in your guest room untouched for days.

You slept better than you ever did before. Eased by the weight of him beside you. Comforted by his presence, content to wind down the evenings with your limbs twined together.

A breeze sifted in through the cracked window, after another long day. With the lights off, you could see the sky above - the scattering of twinkling stars against a blanket of inky indigo.

Din’s eyes were drawn to it, often. Head tipping up, as the sun set, and the moon slipped into view. Minutes passing, with his eyes narrowed.

Sifting through broken slivers, twisting them until they fit.

“Do you think you’ve been up there?” Your head cradled against his shoulder. His arm was warm where it wound around you, your eyes fixed on the stars like his were.

He was silent for a long moment - the room filled with the hum of evening life, the steady inhale-exhale of breath.

“I think so.” It came slowly, “I dream of flying. And it feels…”

The words trailed off, a breath before he finished.

“It feels like I have.”

Your hand squeezed against his arm, thumb smoothing over skin.

“I’ve never been.” You admitted, “I’ve always wanted to go somewhere when I was younger. Anywhere.”

You’d spend ages pouring over holo-novels, dreaming of seeing different planets. The sprawling city of Coruscant. The forests of Kashyyyk, Beaches in Iloh, the vast stretch of the ocean before you.

“I’d take you.” His voice was a rumble, beneath your ear, ”I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Your head tilted, as you regarded him.

Curls mussed from your fingers, crushed against the cushion of your pillow.

Eyes dark and expectant. Earnest - you knew he was telling the truth.

You smiled, as your head dipped. Your admission breathed out, just before your lips touched to his.

“I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”

It’s been one day since everything changed.

Your afternoon at the market drawing out into the night. A runaway speeder clipping the side of the booth, sending fruit to spill upon the ground. The awning drooped, the wooden pole splintering.

Din had stepped away to get supplies. Your fingers smeared with pulp as you scavenged what you could, tucking fruit back into boxes.

Disposing enough that worry had begun to creep beneath your skin, prickling.

It had taken two hours to fix, his hands overlapping yours as the new piece was fitted into place.

The bag of credits tucked in your pocket, the evening light stretching out your shadows on the walk home.

And on a long strip between old buildings, the split of shadows became four.

Then six, as you found yourself boxed in.

Your heartbeat leaped, with the gravel-rasp of one of their voices. The glint of metal - a blaster, held loosely in the palm of a hand.

“Been looking for you. You’re hard to find, know that?”

There was an ache in your hand, as it wrapped around Din’s pauldron. It’s immediate - the way his arm had reached out, tucking you between him and the stone wall behind you.

“I don’t know them.” There was a wobble in your voice.

A rough laugh answered, “Not you, girlie.”

Din.

The knot in your chest dropped to your stomach. Fear like acid in your throat.

“The Tribe is looking for you. Not too happy you split. Offered a hefty sum.” It’s too casual, for the way the blaster pointed at Din’s chest. Still at each end of the alley, but each word brought them closer.

“Children of the Watch, too. It’s tempting, but…”

Din’s back was strung tight beneath your touch. These words meant nothing to you - names you didn’t recognize. References you didn’t understand.

The man was close enough then that you could see the glint of his eyes. The pull of lips across teeth that felt too sharp. An urge inside to run - but Din was too solid to move, and you couldn’t bear to leave him.

They paused, as their eyes dipped.

“Personally, I think we’d much rather have that.”

It’s almost as if Din instinctively knows what he meant, with the way his hands slipped to the black hilt.

Where it’s sat for weeks - an ever-constant, silent presence.

Two of the men had twitched, a foot shifting backward.

“Dead or alive, Mandalorian.” The man’s voice turned pressing, tipping towards desperate, “Doesn’t make a difference. Don’t need you, and definitely don’t need her-“

The blaster twitched towards you, and it’s as if a switch was flipped - no more than a heartbeat passed before the blade hummed to life in Din’s hand.

Inky black, fathomless. Consuming, as it swung through the air, and the last light of the sun dimmed with its presence.

Unnatural. Dangerous.

There was the smell of burnt flesh. The man’s arm cleaved at the bicep, paired with a wail.

A shorter knife pulled from Din’s hip, seated into their chest. The cry cut short. Red smeared across his armor, as you sank back against the wall in shock.

The destruction made sense, now. The carnage you had found him in - you had thought he'd been the lone survivor in a battle.

A half-truth, at least.

Instead you saw him for what he was.

You can picture what happened - for it was playing out in front of you. He moved as if he were made for this.

Fluid. Too much so, muscle memory kicking in, in a way that tells you he had done this many times before.

A second downed, before you managed to move. His name was weak on your lips as you reached for him, trying to keep him from pursuing after the rest who scattered.

Flinching, when his head whipped your way. Your own face had reflected back at you from his visor, fear widening your eyes - and for a moment, you didn’t recognize him.

The fierce warrior, in front of you.

But then, it was there.

Finding him in the slope of his shoulders. The way he stood - weapons sheathed as he cupped your face.

Urging you back toward home, trying to shield you from the mess that had become stuck to your thoughts like burrs.

It's only these weeks together, that had your legs moving. The fact that it's still him - that he did this for you - even if it caused your stomach to lurch.

Letting him take you as far as the house, then deeper.

You needed all that red gone. His armor peeled away in the golden, safe lights of home.

He husked your name once, then twice. Red-stained hands catching at your own. Excuses and promises murmured out, crackling through his helmet.

“I couldn’t let them touch you.”

“Cyare, please-“

And you only relented, with the lift of his helmet. Those brown eyes finding yours, and it’s only then that you could breathe again.

Letting him erase what happened, as his mouth brushes against yours. Waiting for you to close the gap - and, you had.

The jolt and sting of the near misses eased with the touch of hands that you’d come to know well. Stripping him as bare as you felt, the stained armor left at the foot of your bed - the hilt stinging your hand, pain prickling up your arm as it had dropped to the floor.

Trying to erase what happened, as you fell into the man you knew, until it all feels like a bad dream.

He did this for you.

It echoed in your mind, and from his lips. Assurances uttered, with the low rasp of his voice. Smeared across your skin, pressed against the soft curve of your inner thighs.

Filling you, with a familiar weight. Fingers entwined as you’re flipped onto your belly, another promise groaned into your ear.

“I’ll always take care of you.”

“You’re mine.”

“You’re safe.”

It lingered, after. You fell asleep with that thought, those words, letting them wrap around you like a cocoon.

Maybe if you believed it hard enough, it would be true.

There’s a weight when you wake.

A third companion, in the slow creep of the morning hours. Silent as it follows you.

Somber in the eyes that almost meet, only to just miss each other.

You don’t know how to take what happened. The admission after - everything you’ve ever wanted to hear, just at the wrong time.

Wishing you had been back at the lake again, instead.

Wishing you had said something, then. That you had left the stall broken, and gone home early.

Because while it doesn’t really change things, you still reeling with the change from the slow, idyllic life you’ve become accustomed to. The two sides of the coin, of the man you’ve come to love.

That heaviness between you swells - cracking open, with the silhouette of figures against the horizon.

That fear creeps back again, as you look to him. Leaning into the hand at your shoulder once more, tucking you amongst the grove.

But it’s not the men from last night.

The ones that slip through the trees look like him. Gleaming helms, covered head to toe.

Long capes and blasters at their hips, a commanding voice ringing out from the woman whose gold helmet is adorned with twin horns.

"Djarin."

A name, a title, you think - you cannot tell. But dread still curls in your stomach, mirroring the ache when his blade had arced through the air.

You wonder if they were the ones looking for him. Wonder where they’ve been, how they knew-

“You must have known we’d come for you. That it would lead you to us.” Her head cocks, as she takes him in. Voice turning sharp, cracking like a whip.

"You’ve been gone too long. You toe the line of dar'manda, mand'alor.”

He flinches, as one last phrase is uttered.

“Ibic haar Yust.”

This time the words - what is spoken - does something to him.

Din’s posture straightens, as if awakening from a long slumber. Hands methodical with the way they drop to the clip at his waist, unlatching his helmet.

Your Mandalorian disappears beneath, his voice distorting with his dutiful echo.

“This is the way.”

He leaves your side, and your brow knits. Hand reaching for the tattered cape as he goes to them, though the fabric slips through your fingers.

The pit in your stomach drops, as you call after him - panicked.

That single syllable stretches long.

Becoming lost to the wind.

He doesn't answer. Doesn’t react. Doesn't turn, as he rejoins his clan. Melding in with the others - their figurehead back in place, after weeks of searching. The darksaber back where it belonged, calling out with spilt blood, until it could find its way home.

After all, that name was never yours.

And neither was he.

thank you for reading, and thank you again freya for this event! it was so fun to use your images for inspiration, and to tap into that angst

cyar’ika - darling, sweetheart

cyare - beloved

Ibic haar Yust. - ‘this is the way’

dar’manda - the state of being ‘not mandalorian’

mand’alor - leader of the mandalorians

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #almostfoxgloveangst2

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jayke0 · 1 year ago

Text

A Pleasant Surprise

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem reader

Summary: Steven has had something on his mind for a while now, and finally he divulges his fantasy to you; degrading was certainly not on your playing cards.

Rating: nsfw, smut

Warnings/Content: sub!Steven, dom!reader, “mommy” title, degrading, grinding, cumming in pants, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 1,441

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.

………......................…………………………………….

When Steven had come to you with a “fun idea”, you'd expected something along the lines of ”naive uni teacher gets fucked by his student”, but this was so much better.

“Love? I have a, uh…suggestion,” Steven calls from the bathroom between brushing his teeth. “Well, it's more of a proposal, really.”

“Yeah? Go on.” You're sitting in your bedroom reading some gruesome crime novel that Marc seems to have a real distaste for.

You hear the water running briefly before your boyfriend joins you in the room, warm morning sun streaming in through the cracked curtains and casting a soft glow over his face. “I mean, we don't have to do it now of course. I know you're reading and all that, and I have to get to work in a bit–.”

You close your book and pat the edge of the bed, making him instantly respond to your gesture by placing himself down. “I'm all ears, sweetheart, lay it on me.”

Blood rushes to Steven's face as he actually thinks about saying it outloud, feet shuffling a little on the creaky floorboards. The words feel stuck in his throat now that he has to speak them, despite the fact he'd thought about the whole image on numerous occasions... and in great detail.

“Heeyy c’mon,” your hand brushes his arm, and you move closer to him to wrap your arms fully around his, crinkling his blue floral shirt. “You know I can't read your mind, Steven… Though I wish I could, that'd be super fucking helpful, then the other two couldn't lie to me.”

His chuckle makes you smile and you feel him draw in a long breath.

”I wanna like… grind against you… and I want you to mock me for it, u-until I cum… in my trousers…”

The pauses between his words are almost comical, but you look up at his face and see that he's completely serious, looking at you with wide eyes and waiting for an answer.

“Oh! Right.”

“Ah, Gods! No no... no no no no no, forget it–.” He frantically shakes his head, his hands doing the same as his face scrunches. “It's weird, I'm sorry, pretend I never said anything. Me and my big bloody mouth.”

“Steven,” you say between giggles, hand resting on his soft face to pull his gaze towards you. “It's not weird, silly! I just didn't expect you to be the one that's into degrading.” Careful not to fall back off of the bed, you climb onto his lap, thighs either side of his as you examine his expression, how gorgeous he looks with his brows knitted together and his unruly curls that Marc would definitely be gluing down with copious amounts of gel right about now.

His chest deflates as he lets out a soft sigh, resting his head on your chest out of embarrassment while you link your arms around his neck to run your fingers through the long curls at the back of his head. You feel his hands graze up your back, gliding under your night shirt and making you shiver with the warmth.

“Are you sniffing me?”

“No! Well…” he pauses, “yeah, but not in a creepy way.” The man lifts his head and looks up at you with those big doe eyes, and you watch them close as you start rolling your hips down on him slowly. You're only in your underwear underneath that shirt, but Steven is fully clothed and ready for work… or at least he would be, if his eyes weren't fluttering shut and arousal wasn't growing in his tummy.

“I promise you, darling, I like your idea.” You reassure him with your hips drawing slow circles against the material of his trousers, creating a delicious friction. “As long as you tell me if it's too much, alright?”

The bed creaks a little with your grinding before he looks up at you, nodding with a kind of desperation in his eyes that lights a fire in your gut.

“You promise?”

“Yeah love, yeah I promise.” He says, his voice a little more whiny.

You don't bother yourself with working out the psychological reasons for why your boyfriend enjoys being degraded about how long he can last, chalking it up to his masculinity, despite your reassurances that he's just as much of a man as his other two alters.

“You've got 10 minutes, think you can do that?”

Steven groans at your question, since both of you know all too well that 10 minutes is more than enough time. Still, he nods, big puppy dog eyes looking up at you and begging you to divulge in his vision.

A smirk creeps across your face when you see those glassy eyes, your gaze trailing down to the blush dusting his cheeks and the straining muscles in his neck.

“God Steven, I love the way you look at me. Look at those big soft eyes, all for mommy, aren't they?”

He lets out a whimper with the use of that title, his cock stirring in his trousers and reminding you of the thin barrier that's stopping you from grinding on the rough material of his slacks all together. The man doesn't take his gaze off of you; he drinks in every one of your features as if he's seeing you for the first time.

Rocking his hips up, he pants.

“Yes mommy, all for you, I'm all for you.”

“That's right, sweetheart, those desperate eyes are for me. that dumb little face is mine.” You lean forward and nip his bottom lip, soothing it afterwards with your tongue as he gasps and bucks his hips.

“I can feel you twitching, baby. You just can't help it, can you? Always getting so worked up and hard when I'm around, maybe I should put this pretty cock in a cage, what do you think?”

Steven's shoulders drop as he leans forward into your neck, biting and sucking any skin he can get his mouth on while his hot breath and whimpers raise goosebumps over your skin.

The suction he had in your neck is broken as his head is suddenly jerked backwards, your grip tight in his hair and making him whimper pathetically.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart.”

His adam's apple bobs in his throat as he tries to suppress his moans, his head nodding wildly. “Yes mommy, I'd– agh–I'd love that.” His hips buck again.

“Mhm.. then you'd at least last longer than 5 minutes, you'd actually be able to fuck me properly.”

Steven's mouth hangs agape, his eyes now squeezed shut as his grip on your hips tighten and he guides your hips down on him harder, wanting more, anything.

“Sh–it… Ah- Feels so good.” His eyebrows knit together in a beautifully strained way. “More, gimme more–.”

You tut with a small smirk on your lips, rocking back and forth to coat his trousers in your own arousal that's seeped through your underwear.

“Oh, look at you, you gonna cum in your pants, baby? Gonna prove how pathetic you are to mommy?” You feel the muscles in his shoulders and back tighten. “C'mon sweetheart, cum for me, ruin those pants.”

Sweet moans and whimpers tumble from the man's rosy lips as he finally lets go, staining his boxers enough that you feel the wetness as it soaks a spot on his trouser leg.

His grip on your hips loosens, but he doesn't stop whimpering, soft babbles and huffs escaping his throat as he calms down. You stroke his head, combing your fingers through his hair as your hips slow. “Good boy, you're such a good boy, Steven.” You smile brightly at him, despite the fact his eyes are still shut.

They only flutter open when he feels your hand stroking his cheek and tilting his head down.

“Are you ok, baby? How do you feel?”

His cheeks are flushed bright red still, beads of sweat sitting on his forehead from the warmth of his button-up shirt. A smile cracks across his face as he nods shyly, “I'm ok– great, yeah.. I'm great, actually.”

“You sure? I didn't hurt your feelings, did I?”

He shakes his head and tilts face to kiss your palm. “No, you didn't, love. I promise.”

His eyes drift down to the wet patch on his trousers, your eyes following as you chuckle softly.

“Should probably change…” He mumbles while resting his head on your shoulder.

“Yeah, that's probably a good idea.” You place a kiss on his neck as you embrace him, ignoring the fact that he will most definitely be late to work… again.

...........................................................................

Tags 🖤: @boredzillenial @cowboymarcs @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar @fanofstuffidk @minigirl87 @marisferasiop @red-hydra @summonthesoups @steven-grants-world @queerponcho @ominoose @mynamesstevenwithav @rinverse @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mooksmouse @cupidysm

#moon knight #moon knight system #moon boys #steven grant #moon knight smut #steven grant smut #oscar isaac characters #steven grant x reader

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