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cavillscurls · 9 months ago

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darling, hold out your hand (j.miller)

a daddy next door drabble

Joel reflects on your kiss, the type of man he is, and the type of man he longs to be.

warnings/tags: MDNI. joel pov. follows the events of chapter two. age gap (20s/50s). angst. some fluff. impure thoughts and desires. joel wrestles with his self-loathing, per usual. self-flagellation. religious allusions. sexual frustration. discussions of masturbation (m), but no actual deed. denial (?). no dialogue. word count: 1.1k

two | series masterlist | three

It wasn’t his intention.

Never his intention.

He has to repeat the mantra to himself over and over in order to seek salvation. Never his intention. And he hopes whatever power in the universe burdens themselves with his thoughts forgives him because he knows. He knows that in every realm of existence, tangible or otherworldly, he is not worthy of redemption.

He knows this. He never has been.

He was a goner the moment you stepped foot on his porch. Passing glances through window panes and brief outlines of a silhouette leaving the adjacent home did little to spark his interest. But when you appeared to him in the flesh, sheen with sweat and bearing sweet gifts, he forgot himself briefly. Lost was composure and grace, fervidly replaced by instinct, desire. Infatuation.

Bad, bad man.

Something about you, frightening in its clarity, screamed vulnerable, lonely. A voice of fate calling to him, showing up on his very doorstep, and beckoning him to take charge. Not by the means of abusing his power—never, he would never hurt you, never fail you—but he could be whatever you needed him to be.

Not that you needed him at all. Such confliction.

Beautiful, and smart, and curious, and the fucking sweetest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. And when you kissed him, a part of him was reborn. It bloomed and swelled and ached in his chest, a caged thing, smothered by his own restriction, looking to be set free. He saw it in your eyes. The same thing he saw when he stared at himself in the mirror. Desperation. A longing for something unspoken, nonexistent, but perhaps, on the precipice of emerging from its hiding. A dire plea to give, and take, and give, and take some more. Something to be nurtured.

Something to be taken care of.

He paces the entirety of the house that evening like a madman, knuckles white from tugging at his hair, jaw sore from the way he grinds his teeth.

He should go over there and ask to see you. Apologize for his lack of self-control. He’s a grown man, he knows better. He should know better.

But no, no. That won’t do. What would he say to your father if he answered the door? Showing up asking for you is incriminating enough, there’s no chance he comes up with something clever enough to get out of a line of questioning.

Guilty, guilty, guilty.

Besides, who is he to assume you even want to see him again? Speak to him again? Look at him again?

He could avoid you; he could act as though the incident never happened on the occasion he is forced to see you. But he knew that was neither productive nor sensible, and he’s already the kind of man who had spent plenty of years running from his problems; he isn’t sure he has the strength to do so any longer.

He feels sick to his stomach.

It’s a familiar feeling. The same way he felt when he saw you across that yard, taking his own necessary stroll away from the bustling crowds, when that boy grabbed you. Blinded by rage and instinct—to preserve, to protect, to shield the precious from the tainted—he was lost even before he found you. And once he had you, talked to you, touched you, held you, kissed you, something snapped inside of him. A cosmic event that has worked its way through his entire nervous system, setting his skin alight and numbing his brain to any other thoughts other than you, you, you.

He can’t admit it to himself, but nestled deep, there lingers a regrettable sense of possession.

She chose me. She wanted me.

And he could deny the truth until the sun burnt out or the world stopped turning, but it wouldn’t curb the obsession because he wants you. In every way a man of his position, his age, shouldn’t. And he knows he’s not strong enough. Not smart enough. Not careful enough, because if you hadn’t left him standing in the yard, he wouldn’t have stopped. If you had asked him to take you into his arms, take you into his home, take you, he wouldn’t have—couldn’t have—denied you.

His shower that evening is an unforgiving sort of cold. Punishment. Though somewhat relieving in the way it distinguishes the fire under his skin.

He pours himself a shot of whiskey. Neat. Downs it in one go and reaches for another. A bad habit for stressful days, but he’s been good about it lately. Surely one minor step back in judgment wouldn’t be as catastrophic as his sober choices.

He lies awake, bloodshot eyes boring up at the ceiling long into the early hours of the morning. Naked. And there’s an ache that both the cold and the alcohol could not diminish. It churns in his gut and weighs in his cock that lays heavy on his stomach. Hard, and leaking, and fucking pulsing for relief since the moment you got into his truck. And he knows he could rectify the discomfort; his hands are burning where they bunch against the sheets, longing to touch.

He’d start with slow strokes; anything too quick, too sudden, and he knows he wouldn’t last. He’d close his eyes and paint a perfect picture behind his lids: plush lips, and wide eyes, or the sight of what he knows to be the softest skin. It teased him all evening in the form of supple breasts revealed over the line of your tank top; the sliver of skin between the hem and your skirt he was lucky enough, just for a moment, to dig his fingers into; the curves of your legs from beneath your skirt, so carelessly blown astray for him to take a greedy peek.

He could hardly tolerate imagining his hands anywhere else. Your hips, your thighs, your cunt, soft and warm and inviting and the andetode to all his suffering—one touch, he just needs one touch to cease the hellfire.

But he doesn’t allow himself the pleasure. Instead, he forces himself to deal with the pain, a reminder of his actions, his foolishness. He wouldn’t disrespect you in your absence as he so blatantly did in your presence. A feeble attempt at the unworthy redemption, though he’s certain he’s already crossed the threshold of irredeemable.

He groans, his abdomen contracting relentlessly in some pitiful form of reprieve. This is what he deserves. A new town, new opportunities, and he grasped for the one thing stamped unattainable, destining himself to be alone. This is what he deserves. He clenches his eyes shut, focusing on his ragged breathing, and attempts to conjure the idea of sleep. It never comes. This is what he deserves.

You’re in his dreams. Haunting and beautiful. So close, yet unbearably out of reach, and the pain persists.

This is what he deserves.

Because he knows. He knows, better than anyone, that there is no version of him that deserves you.

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Ao3 | KOFI

#fic: daddy next door #joel miller x reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #daddy!joel #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au

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sweetteainthesummerx · 7 months ago

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THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG

Ollie Bearman and his girlfriend turned wife, as seen from social media and the public.

series masterlist

reader has a name and a no fc, but is portrayed as East Asian :) No warnings, probably going to have multiple parts :) ALSO NO HATE TO MACE CORONEL I literally searched up young actors and he popped up AND no hate to ollie and Estelle's relationship I just wanted to write for fun. pls be kind this is baby's first Tumblr post also someone pls help me how do I make my blog aesthetic

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

E-news!

TRENDING NOW

AUBREY YANG WINS OSCAR AT AGE 17

Aubrey Yang, age 17, wins Best Supporting Actress in break out role on blockbuster movie, Station 13. This young star has been acting since the age of 7, landing roles such in which she worked with household names like Michelle Yeoh and Robin Williams. Her astounding and emotional performance as a newly orphaned teen in the apocalypse adjacent Morgan Freeman has secured her spot in this tumultuous industry. In her acceptance speech, Yang delivered an impactful critique on Asian presence in Western Media and how her win is “ not just [hers], but for all of us”.

Yang is set to star in upcoming movie, White Jade Tiger, a historical film based on the book of the same name, directed by John M. Chu next fall.

See below for Audrey Yang’s Acceptance Speech I 2024 Academy Awards.

aubreyyang posted

liked by morganfreeman, michelleyeoh_official, and 987,432 others

aubreyyang Wow. I am still in absolute shock. Thank you so much to everyone who supported me and helped make this happen. Here’s to more change and more love in the future!

view all 26,183 comments

morganfreeman well done, and well deserved Aubrey. It was an honor seeing your incredible talent and hard work.

— aubreyyang thank you so much for guiding me and imparting your wisdom!! I love you on set dad!

michelleyeoh_official They grow up so fast…proud of you, Aubrey!

— aubreyyang MICHELLE MY HERO

dior.n.goodjohn MY QUEEN YOUVE SLAYED TOO HARD IM AFRAID

— aubreyyang AHHH MY GF VAN TRIP WHEN???

user dior and aubrey are friends???

user2 yes they’re both from vancouver their friendship is so cute

macecoronel ❤️

liked by author

sabrinacarpenter girlboss

aubreyyang SABBB my lover

olliebearman posted

olliebearman Spring break, ready to get back on (the) track 😁

tagged: kimi.antonelli

comments are turned off.

liked by kimi.antonelli, arthur_leclerc, and 7,4720 others

celebgossipnews_page posted

celebgossipnews_page Aubrey Yang has won an Oscar: but is she winning in the love department? The actress was seen arguing with long-term boyfriend, Mace Coronel in front of Nobu Downtown last Friday night, at 9:00 pm. She left the restaurant in tears, without Coronel. Could this power couple break up at the height of Yang’s career?

Liked by 7344 others

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user1 dude I hate him sm like wdym u pulled Aubrey, the baddest baddie out there

— user2 fr man is washed up

aubreyyyfanpage girl stand up that man is not worth it LEAVE HIM

— yang4eva WORDD miss ma’am he does not deserve u ONE CHANCE PLS

aubberieyaang posted

aubberieyaang as liv once said, its brutal out here

liked by celine_diorr and others

view all 20 comments

celine_diorr NAH NO WAY LIL BRO CHEATED ON U LIKE WDYM

celine_diorr WHEN I CATCH U BRO WHEN I CATCH U

liv_laugh_love girl are r u ok u know its bad when ur quoting me

— aubberieyaang I can’t help it I start singing one step forward three steps back whenever I start crying

chuck_bushes do u want me and walker to go beat him up

— celine_diorr YO I want in

— aryannawhatrudoinghere me too

— walkdontrun pulling up to his house rn

— leeahh_j AUBREY I LOVE YOU DONT CRY

— aubberieyaang AW I LOVE U GUYS

dallastexas dude how r u showing up to set and pretending to be okay

dallastexas im gonna grab food and come over to urs

— aubberieyaang PLS. Also water im so dehydrated

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

#ollie bearman #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman x you #ollie bearman x female reader #formula 1 #f1 drivers #f1 x reader #smau #f1 smau #ollie barman x female character

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crybaby-bkg · 2 years ago

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His Muse

Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader Warnings: Yandere Bakugou, Obsessive Tendencies, psychoanalyst therapist reader, smut, extremely dubious consent, stalking, kindapping (tagging to be safe), cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampies, kitchen sex, strength kink, threats of violence (not to reader). please let me know if I missed anything! Word Count: 6.5k Notes: this isn't a more violent yandere fic, and has lots of bargaining and dub con, just as a warning!! but I can't believe I came up with this idea in November omg I move so slow when it comes to full fics. also I tried gradient style for the title and I love it lol it was so fun to try. anyway, please enjoy!! Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI! Also available on ao3!

When Bakugou comes to you to be his therapist, you don’t think twice about it. He filled out his application correctly, he answered when you called, his insurance went through, his problems sounded legit. You had become wary taking on new patients in your field—dealing with criminals, those with hardened and extensive records, people with all kinds of issues that an everyday therapist wouldn’t be able to handle accordingly. But you did it all (someone had to), so your vetting process was a little heavier than usual, if the therapy wasn’t state mandated.

But Bakugou Katsuki passed with flying colors. If anything, he sounded a little too normal for your line of work, but he kept promising that his issues would be better discussed during sessions. With a little hesitance, you agree and take him on.

He’s…okay, for the most part. A little gruff, rough around the edges and snappy when you try to touch on certain topics of his life. But in general, he’s a great patient; he pays on time, shows up five minutes early, doesn’t linger when your next patient comes buzzing, doesn’t try to touch you or seek out personal information from you.

If anything, he still seems a bit too strait-laced for you. That is, until he starts to delve into why he really wants to come to therapy—to deal with his tendencies of rage, lashing out, and obsession. You had told him that you didn’t deal much with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, but he had assured you that, no, his obsessions and compulsions weren’t about checking the locks a certain amount of times on a Wednesday, but instead about people.

He obsessed over people, and when things wouldn’t go his way, his rage would rear its ugly head. He still hasn’t told you what his rage specifically looks like, especially with how he momentarily glances over at your little message pinned on your wall that warns people about admitting criminal acts that you’d have to report, damn the confidentiality.

“When did these obsessions start?” You ask him, body tilted toward him even though your eyes and hands move to your open computer. You document what he says, take note of it all, skimming over previous notes from other appointments.

“Maybe about eighteen months ago?” Bakugou’s voice is gravelly, deep and grating against the column of his throat. As he answers, he shoves his hands in his sweats pockets, scoots down a little further on your adjacent couch, looks around the room as if he hadn’t been in here a few times before.

“So this is a more recent development?” You ask, humming under your breath and nodding when he grunts an affirmation. You type, obsessive tendencies over people started less than two years ago, could be trauma based, and you wonder if he can read the words through the reflection of your glasses when you look over to see his eyebrows screwed down.

“Was it sudden for you?” You cock your head to the side, before shaking your head. “Let me rephrase; did these tendencies ever show their faces in other aspects of your life? Different time periods, situations? Or was it just a sudden thing that happened, something you realized once the obsession had already begun?” He starts nodding his head before you can even finish, his ash blond bangs shadowing his eyes for a second in such a way that sends a prickle of chills up your arms. You don’t know why, so you try to swallow the feeling down until it burns at the back of your throat, shifting a little in your cushioned seat. Bakugou watches you for a second before he opens his mouth to speak.

“It was sudden.” He answers, plainly, doesn’t offer up much else until you cock an eyebrow at him, signaling for him to go on. He rolls his eyes and huffs under his breath, shifting again before he shrugs dramatically with his hands still in his pockets.

“I dunno, I was fuckin’ normal until I wasn’t.” You chuckle a little at his tone, crossing your legs under the desk, watching how Bakugou’s vermillion eyes dart down to catch the sight of them, before they slide back up to your face.

“You’ve been in a relationship before?” You state more than ask, eyebrows slid high on your face in question, watching Bakugou roll his eyes a little before he nods.

“Yeah.” He offers, his mouth set in a thin line, obviously not wanting to offer up too much information on the topic.

“How many?” You push. How the hell does he expect you to help him when he keeps giving you short answers, nothing to work with? Why even seek out your help if he acts like being here is such a nuisance to deal with?

“Two.” Bakugou says through gritted teeth, eyes cutting at the decorations you have hung on the walls. “What does this have to do with anything, anyway?” He spits, cuts his eyes at you once more as you narrow your own at him.

“I’m trying to find a connection between your sudden obsessive tendencies with your relationships with people in the world.” You clarify for him, sitting up a little in your seat as his own irritation bubbling off of him starts to sink into your pores, too.

“People rarely have sudden personality flips and switches with no leading causes beforehand. Did these tendencies start because of preexisting mommy issues that were suddenly uncovered after being repressed for years? Were you in a long and committed relationship, which ended in such a way that it wasn’t necessarily on your terms, even if it was ultimately your own call? Was it an accident you were in? Have you always been like this and never realized it? Do you understand what I’m saying, Katsuki?”

…

Bakugou isn’t taking in a single word that you’re telling him. He wishes he could; he’s sure you’re saying some real shit that he should most likely take into consideration. But its so hard to focus when you look at him like that, when your neck rolls a little with every word, when your foot bounces under the desk, the way your lips curve just so.

You’re the reason he’s even here right now. The bane of his fuckin’ existence, but also the only thing that matters to him in the world.

You are his obsession. His muse, his fantasy, his daydream turned reality. And it’s all your fucking fault. With how you prance around your home with your curtains open, wearing nothing but slutty little shirts and no bra, no pants, just panties that sink into the curves of your ass and thighs. How you just go about your life without a care in the fucking world, always so oblivious to everything around you.

You hadn’t even noticed him, the months he spent watching over you. Didn’t catch his lingering stares, or how his ash blond head of hair always seemed to be at least ten feet behind you with every step you took. How your long time neighbor from across the hall suddenly disappeared, how a new tenant moved in when he knew you’d be out. How you forget entirely too often to lock your door, to put your used panties in the hamper. How you tease him with everything, how you’ve been fucking leading him on for over a year and a half now.

So, he had to get desperate. Had to search you up and find what qualifications he needed in order to be seen by you, a psychoanalytical therapist for those who want to be reformed.

But Bakugou had no plans on reformation. There was nothing for him to be reformed on. He just wanted you, and goddamnit, if he wasn’t going to have you.

“I understand you, doc. Loud and clear.”

***

It was your day off, and you had plans on spending it in your bed, catching up on some reading and maybe finishing that one show you started a while ago. But, lunch time came around, and you were craving something specific and didn’t have all the ingredients that you needed. You figured you could go out to the grocery store to grab them, get some fresh air on the way there, and maybe stop at that book shop you had been eyeing for a while.

You get ready quickly, closing your front door behind you, pausing for a second to stare at the door across the hall. You still can’t believe Ms. Hayashi had so suddenly moved out, especially after living in this complex since it was first built. She hadn’t even said goodbye, and you never got the chance to return the Tupperware she lended you.

It wouldn’t have been as weird if someone hadn’t supposedly moved in the next day. You were a gossip with your landlord, a nice older lady, and she gave you all up the updates on the people who lived in the complex. She had said that he was a nice guy, kind of scary and intimating in stature, but respectful the whole time. Said that he didn’t even look at the apartment before giving her the first six months rent and despot in cash. She told you to ever call her if you smelled meth cooking from that apartment, as no one who works a regular job just has that kind of money laying around.

You shrug to yourself, coming to the conclusion that maybe the new owner just needed to get out of town, away from somewhere or someone else. Everyone has their reasonings, and you can’t analyze every single move someone you haven’t even met before has ever made.

You continue down the steps until you’re out of the building, unaware of the crimson eyes that follow your every movement. The walk to the store is a little longer than you’d like for it to be, but you figure that the exercise can do you some justice, and it’s always nice being out in nature. You stop and pick a flower that grows from a crack in the sidewalk, twirling it in your finger the whole way to the store, finally tucking it behind your ear when you have to grab a grocery cart.

And still—and still—you don’t see the eyes that watch you. The figure that follows your every move, that disappears behind walls and aisles every time you turn your back. You feel it though, he can tell, because you move a little quicker and look over your shoulder more than usual.

You go to the self checkout, trying to hurry now, as an uneasy feeling starts to wash over you. You get these often, especially working in the field that you do with the patients that you choose to take on—hardened criminals, fresh out of jail and still ready to harm society, people that just like to see the world burn for the fun of it.

The therapist is typically one of the first few people to be taken out, after parents. You’re always too high on the list for your liking, despite loving your job.

You keep trying to scan an item, but it’s not working, and that only makes your panic settle in deeper into your bones. You try to remember the techniques that you give people when they start to feel overwhelmed by their emotions and what goes on in their heads, but its hard when that sinking feeling only grows deeper and heavier by the moment until—

“Need some help with that?” You jump away quickly, eyes wide as you hold up the can of soup you were gripping tightly like a weapon. You let out a breath though, only in slight relief, to see that its one of your patients standing beside you—Bakugou Katsuki. He looks different than he usually does in your sessions together; he’s wearing a tight compression shirt that hugs his wide shoulders, navy blue in color, sweatpants that wrap around the thick muscles in his thighs, and plain running shoes.

For some reason though, the panic in your stomach doesn’t fully quell at the sight of him.

“No, I got it. Thanks though, Bakugou.” You tell him politely, smiling shakily. Why does the sight of him unnerve you so bad? You’ve run into patients before on the street, and they never make you feel like this, this uneasy, even when it was dark and you were dressed more scantily than you are now, with your baggy pants and too big shirt.

“You sure?” He grunts, cocking his head at you as he gently pries the can from your still tight grip. “I watched you struggle with it for like, two minutes. Let me.” He tells you, never taking his eyes off of you as he scans your item easily enough. He only looks away when he bags it for you, and starts to scan the rest of your things as if you weren’t standing there.

“Oh no, it’s okay, I can finish that myself.” You wave him off him with a shaky smile, finally breaking out of your stupor when he’s damn near finished. You reach out to stop him, but Bakugou only waves you away with a grunt.

“’S alright. It’s the least I can do for you helping me figure my crazy out.” Bakugou shrugs at you, a joke you’re presuming, as he glances over at you with a tiny lilt at the corner of his mouth. It calms you, only for a second, before something ever so slightly changes in his eyes, in the way he looks at you and takes you in, makes you feel like something sinister is sinking deep into your bones. Your stomach tightens again, and you have to force a smile when he finishes, before it drops when you see him reaching for his wallet.

“Oh, I really can’t let you pay for my groceries.” You tell him, stepping up to him before pausing when he looks at you out of the corner of his eye with an expression so terrifying, that it makes stone drop into the pit of your belly.

“Let me.” Bakugou tells you more than asks you, and you nod slowly, swallowing the thickness that has settled into the back of your throat. You can only watch as he pulls out a wad of cash, counting through it before inserting it into the machine, mouth set in a thin line all the while. You try to take him in, figure out where his own groceries are to be in this section, where all this money is coming from, if his address that he put on the file is even anywhere near this area.

It’s not.

“Cmon.” Bakugou snaps you out of your trance, big veiny hands holding all of your groceries as he nods his head to the exit. You’re stuck there, wondering if this is really happening, if these are just boundaries being crossed or a crime about to be committed. You feel tears stinging at your eyes as you try to blink them away, hiccuping slightly as you slowly shake your head.

“Please give me my groceries, Bakugou.” You don’t even recognize your own voice, soft and shaky and purely terrified. Bakugou fixes you with another deadly expression but this time—this time he smiles at you, and its everything but friendly. All big white teeth and too sharp incisors, all falsely charming and all weaponry, all threat with no escape from his drooling maw.

“I think we should go home, now. Don’t you?” He asks you with a cock of his head, body still turned to the exit, his stature eery with how the veins in his neck throb with every second you stay rooted in your spot. “Before something happens to these nice people in here, right? Before they have to bear witness to a massacre, all because you don’t want to walk home with me.”

You have to bite back your sob that bubbles up in your throat. You’re terrified of what will happen to you, but you’re a caretaker first. You have to put yourself before these people, put yourself before the monster that wants you as a sacrifice before he burns an entire village down for you.

So you nod, and take the hand offered to you as he switches the groceries to one hand, just to squeeze yours in the other.

You leave out of the grocery store with tears muddled in your eyes, a quivering chin that you try to conceal, hope no one wants to be a hero and find themselves hurt, or worse, because you can’t school your expressions.

This was taught in a psychology course you took in college, you remember. One of your classes after you started working on your highest degree—what to do in real life situations as a psychologist. How to avoid more conflict when a patient is erratic. How to deescalate. How to survive.

Everything you’ve ever learned has gone out the window now.

You and Bakugou walk down the street hand in hand, looking like a normal couple for the most part, besides your trembling jaw and shaky steps. You glance up to him, watching him squint in the sunlight before he glances down at you, squeezing your hand gently, as if to comfort you, as if he weren’t the cause of your panic. You notice that he’s walking right in the direction of your apartment, as if the route were memorized.

“How do you know where I live?” You ask shakily, mouth full of cotton as Bakugou keeps his head forward, grinning. He glances at you again, eyes bouncing between the delicate flower tucked behind your ear, and the terrified expression your eyes carry.

“I should be asking you the same thing.” He shrugs nonchalantly, doesn’t offer up anymore information until you stand outside of your building. “You know, for you to be a therapist to fuckin’ weirdos, you don’t watch your back good enough for my liking.”

You didn’t think your stomach could sink any lower, but it does. It does when the realization settles, when his words kick in—that he’s been watching you, but for how long? How could you not have noticed? Did he even contact you because he needed help, or was this only a way to grow closer to you, to his obsession?

Before you know it, Bakugou has walked you up the stairs until you reached your floor. Your body turns to instinctively to your door, but you’re pulled in the other direction.

“Wha—” you go to ask Bakugou, before you notice he’s set your groceries down to fiddle with the key to…to the apartment across the hall from you. You feel the tears flood again, letting them flow this time since no one is around to try and save you and put themselves in harms way anymore.

“It’s been you? This whole time?” You ask slowly, starting to pull away when Bakugou opens the door to Ms. Hayashi’s apartment, still decorated the same before she mysteriously disappeared—you don’t think its so mysterious anymore.

“Of course it’s been me.” Bakugou scoffs as he grips your hand tighter, pulling you closer until you near the doorway. “I had to watch over you—do you know how careless you are with everything? With your life?” He snarls, whirling around on you when you plant your feet and try to keep him from pulling you into his lions den. Bakugou is all snarls and teeth, invokes such a deep fear within you that you can’t help but shrink under his gaze.

“Now come on. I’ve been waiting for this for entirely too long.” His voice is downright salacious, eyes turning sharp and hungry, and in a way that makes you feel like nothing more than hunted prey.

Bakugou damn near drags you within the apartment, despite your whimpering and pulling at him—he’s just too strong. He walks you a few feet inside before he dumps the groceries on a coffee table, finally letting go of your hand so that he can lock the door, emerging a key from his sweatpants pocket to one of the many, many locks, an insurance policy of you never leaving him unless he allows it.

You try to put on your therapist boots for a minute, swallowing your fear as you try to reason with him, swallowing thickly when he turns around and takes your trembling form in.

“Bakugou,” you start shakily, “this doesn’t have to end bad for us. You can just let me go, and we can pretend this never happened. I won’t report you, or anything. Please, please, PLEASE!”

He comes rushing at you before you know it, on you in seconds, despite trying to turn and outrun him before he pounces. But it’s too late and he’s too big and too overwhelming, and he grabs you up in his arms, shushing your screaming with his mouth pressed against yours.

So this is what he wants, you think to yourself, terrified to say you’re slightly relieved. You’ve worked with men who liked to torture women for fun, and you were scared that he was secretly one of them, but it looks like he just wants—

“You.” Bakugou whispers with a swallow against your mouth, hot and breathy. “I want you so fuckin’ bad, wanted this for so long, fuck.” He’s wrapping you up within him in seconds, arms crushing your ribs, tongue sneaking into your mouth, hands grabbing handfuls of whatever he can reach.

You’re stunned, mostly. Finally putting the pieces together of everything that is Bakugou, his coming to you about his obsessions, his secrecy despite needing your help, the way he always looked at you, how he devours you now like a mere schoolboy. It all makes sense now. You pull away from him, eyes round and wide as you take in his lowered ones, how he dives back in to nip at your jaw and chin and cheek.

“I’m your obsession.” You whisper shakily, hands on his shoulders, despite them making no moves to move the large man back. Bakugou groans at that, damn near sinks to his knees at your realization, wraps you up even tighter as he buries his face into the skin of your neck.

“Fuckin’ finally. Thought you would’ve caught on sooner by now, dumbass.” He scolds you, licking up the expanse of your skin as you shiver and try to back away. But Bakugou only holds you tighter, and you whimper at the bulge that nudges your hip.

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve—could’ve worked on exposure therapy, had someone there to monitor you for our safety, could’ve—”

“Too much work. I just want you.” Bakugou moans, nipping at your skin, grabbing handfuls of your ass when you squeak. He walks you backwards until your back meets a wall, the breath being knocked out of you as you gasp, eyes wide when he finally pulls away from your skin.

You’ve never seen him like this, all fucked out and relaxed and even a little excited. Always saw him with a bored or irritated expression, one of indifference. But now, Bakugou looks high on euphoria, with kiss swollen lips and low eyelids as he takes in your still shocked expression.

“Let me taste you,” Bakugou rushes out in a quick breath, diving in once more to lick at your mouth before he pulls away, big hands squeezing at your waist and ass excitedly. He’s like a dog with a bone, like a pup with no master, waiting for you to give the command, the permission to go.

You wonder if you have more control of this situation than you originally thought. So you try your hand, see how far you can push before you can wiggle your way out of this entire thing and get the chance to call the police.

“Bakugou,” you start, quickly being cut off by him with a sharp nip to your chin.

“Katsuki,” he corrects. You nod.

“Katsuki, if I—if I let you do this, this one thing of…of tasting me, will you promise to let me go?” You try to reason with him, cupping his cheek when his eyes wander over your form instead of your face, leaning into your touch instinctively.

“We can,” you pause with a swallow. “I can do this. I can create a therapy plan for you, for your obsession over me, and it can be fully consenting and healthy, but you have to let me help you and let me take control.” You try to reason with Bakugou, hope he understands what you’re saying, that he won’t catch on to this just being a trick. But he only groans and turns his head, sucking your thumb into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut at your gasp before he releases you with a pop. He turns half lidded vermillion eyes to you, frowning as he rests his heavy head in your palm.

“Whatever you fuckin’ say, just let me taste you, goddamnit.” He mutters petulantly. You can only hold your breath, wonder if what you’re agreeing will hurt you in the long run before you nod.

“You can—you can taste me, Katsuki.”

You think you might’ve sealed the deal with a devil, with the way you can practically see horns protruding from his forehead and a tail flickering behind him when he drops to his knees. Bakugou is too quick for your liking, yanks your pants around your ankles too fast, hurries you out of them, rips your underwear away from your skin until it tears and falls limply in a pile on the floor.

You squeak when his face is suddenly pressed right against your cunt, his nose buried into your pubic hair, the sound of a big sniff echoing throughout the room. You can’t help but cringe, but don’t dare push him away—people need to be exposed to all aspects of things in order to overcome them, even if those things are sniffing what lies between your legs.

“Fuck, smells so good.” Bakugou grunts under his breath, huffing a few times before he forces your legs further apart until you can accommodate the wide expanse of his shoulders. You grunt from the stretch, trying to make yourself comfortable, but Bakugou picks up on it quickly, and grabs your knee to hike your leg over his shoulder to rest on.

It creates a better angle for him anyway, with your lips glistening with your arousal—you were aroused. Turned on by him just as much as he was with you. You were wet, even if it’s not as much as he would prefer, as he would get you to that amount in only a matter of time.

You throbbed when his tongue traced the hood of your clit, of your lips, your folds. You twitch hard against his mouth when he keeps licking and licking at you, until your slickness and his spit mingle and he doesn’t know where you end and where he begins. Until it makes a mess of his mouth and chin and the floor below him, and you, with your pretty moans and grabbing hands.

Bakugou has waited for this moment longer than he can really care to remember, at this point in time. Waited to worship you on his knees, be able to look up from between your soft thighs and see the scrunch of your brows when he sucks your clit between his lips and runs over it with the flatness of his tongue.

It’s an addictive feeling, really. Makes him feel higher than any drug could ever take him, makes his eyes roll back and his cock throb so hard that he has to grab it from beneath his sweats to keep from busting his load already.

You can only stand there and take it—take the incessant licking around your hole, and the dipping of his tongue inside of you, and the sweet little kisses he plants on your clit. You try to reason with yourself, convince yourself that this is an improvised session with a client that needed your help so badly that you decided to take him on your day off. Try to tell yourself that this is all apart of the therapy that he needs in order to get over you.

You only hope that the taste of you doesn’t become so addictive, that your plans for him will go flying out the window the moment you try to reason with him.

But its hard to reason even with yourself when Bakugou is sliding a thick, middled finger inside of your dripping hole as he noisily sucks your clit between his lips. You cry out at that, knees wobbling, but he’s there to catch you with his free hand, his shoulder. Holds you up steady like a pillar as he lashes his tongue against you, twists his finger, curves it slowly, before he’s adding another one before you can even register what’s happening to you.

“Shit, Katsuki,” you moan out, cursing yourself for letting him make you feel so good, for getting so wrapped up in this ‘therapy’. You can only hope that the board doesn’t take your license if they were to ever find out about it.

“Thats it, baby, ride my fingers just like that.” Bakugou breaks you out of your trance with his groan. You hadn’t even realize how your hips were moving against him, grinding down on his digits that curl up inside of you, that slide against that swelling spot that makes your knees weak and your eyes cross.

“Gods, you’re so fuckin’ sexy.” Bakugou whispers against your mound, trailing spit from his mouth down to your clit once more, eyes never leaving the pleasured look on your face.

Did you know he imagined this, in damn near every session he’s ever had with you? While it wasn’t plenty of sessions (he had only started seeing you about six months ago), it was all he could think of. Every Tuesday at 2:45pm, in office number 218, first door on the right, the mint green office—all he could think of was you. Even when you asked him questions with a professional and friendly smile, even when you were covered head to toe, even when you ripped him a new one for his shitty answers and responses.

This was all he wanted, all he craved to see. The way your mouth dropped open when he starts damn near directing you in how he wants you to ride his fingers. How your hips move and swivel and tremble when he keeps bringing his fingers close to his face, inside of you. How you grip so tightly at his hair and pull when he won’t stop sucking and licking and messily kissing your clit. How he damn near makes out with your hole, tongue drooling and smacking against your soaked skin until he feels himself about to burst in his pants.

This was all he wanted, and Bakugou always gets what he wants. Even if its you—especially if it’s you.

“I’m—oh, I think I’m—shit!” Your brain is damn near fried when you start to orgasm, an earth shattering moan slipping from your throat as you throw your head back, hips bucking against Bakugou’s face and hands. He has to hold your entire body up steadily, fears that you may fall from how hard you’re coming, how you shake in his arms.

His fingers are steady inside of you, and only slows when you start to finally come down from your high. Bakugou kisses the inside of your thigh sweetly, nibbles at it when you groan and complain about feeling too weak from the intensity. But that’s not a problem for him at all.

“Hey—what are you—” Bakugou cuts you off with a wet kiss pressed to your mouth when he stands to his full height. His tongue slides against yours and you can’t help but moan when you taste yourself on him. He doesn’t give you a chance to step away and try to slink back to your own apartment, instead hoisting you up quickly in his arms as he starts to walk to a room behind you.

Before you can protest, you’ve been dumped on the kitchen table, Bakugou pressing you down with a hand to your sternum when you try to sit up, shooting you another one of those eery looks from earlier. You still instantly, before slowly lowering yourself back down on the table, eyes wide again when he levels you with a stare for a beat longer before he steps back to yank his shirt over his head.

“I thought,” you mumble, trying not to stare at how well built Bakugou is, how his biceps might literally be bigger than your entire head. “I thought that we agreed for you to only, um, taste me, and then you’d stop.” Its hard finding your voice when Bakugou stares at you like that again, not scarily, but hungry like before. Hard to fight back and push him away when he grabs your shirt in two hands and rips and pulls until your torso is exposed, like the fabric meant nothing to him.

You clench your thighs at the display of strength and hope that he doesn’t notice. (He does).

Bakugou shrugs at you, pulls your bra down until your tits are on display, grabbing a handful of each and massaging them in warm, sweaty palms. He ducks his head down and gives a sweet kiss to both of your nipples, licking one crudely before he stands back up to his full height, your breasts still in his hands. You think he must’ve forgotten what you said, or simply didn’t care to answer, but he surprises you when he squeezes your tits tightly and speaks,

“Think I need a little more exposure before I have to be reduced to doses only, doc.” Is all Bakugou gives you, squeezing your chest one last time before he pulls away. You try not to show the panic on your face when he reaches to pull his sweats down until they bunch around his corded thighs, cock damn near bursting from its confinements.

Bakugou reaches inside of his boxers, biting at his bottom lip when he touches it directly for the first time since he’s gotten you, groans a little at your gasp when he fully exposes himself. He’s thick, curved a little to the side, his head a dark flushed color, a fat vein forking up the side of his shaft. He rests his cock over you, makes a soft little noise in the back of his throat when the precum slides from his tip and pools in the dip of your bellybutton.

“Shit, I love you so fuckin’ much,” Bakugou mutters under his breath as he positions himself at your entrance. Your eyes bulge at his confession, but before you can even touch on what he’s said, he’s already sliding his way inside of you.

Your head falls against the kitchen table, the dull pain quiet compared to the overwhelming pleasure that settles low in your pelvis. You groan, thighs hooked around Bakugou’s waist as he fucks his way inside of you, a moan on his tongue as he watches the way your lips split and suck him inside so, so sweetly.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t wait anymore,” Bakugou mutters against your mouth. As he soon as he settles inside of you, he’s pulling out until his tip kisses your entrance, before he fucks his way back in. You shudder, his cock warm and heavy inside of you, his tip brushing against your sweet spot with every stroke until you start to cling to him and ask for more, more, more.

And Bakugou gives it to you, with feral growls, hiking your legs up higher until they rest on his shoulders, hunching over you with every wet slap of his balls against your ass. The position forces him even deeper, makes your feet dangle entirely too close to your face, Bakugou leaning over to kiss you sweetly on the ankle.

“So, fuck, what’s the diagnosis, doc?” Bakugou taunts you, grinning down at you when you blink bleary eyes up at him. He’s sweaty and golden and has a halo of light behind his ash blond hair from the overhead light. He’s prettier than you want to admit, but its hard trying to keep a face of professionalism when his cock keeps kissing your sweet spot and his chest pressed against yours makes your nipples harder than rocks.

“Huh? What happened to that fucking smart ass that would lecture me in our sessions?” He teases, smile wide and feral as he holds your cheeks tightly between his thick fingers. He forces your mouth into a pout, kissing it, when you blabber nonsense up at him.

“Fucked you dumb already? All those years of college right out the door, huh, baby?” Bakugou’s so mean, makes you whine and claw at his shoulders and nape. You could answer him, give him your professional opinion—not like you even had one in the first place—but he makes it so hard to think. When his cock is balls deep inside of you, when he looks at you with his teasing and yet adoring little grin, when he keeps shaking your face at him with a taunting coo, when he sneaks a hand between your bodies to circle your clit.

“It’s okay; I can think for you. You don’t have to use that pretty little head even once when you’re with me.” Bakugou’s coos sweetly, reaches down and pecks your forehead and mouth when you whimper pathetically up at him with teary eyes.

“Gonna cum? Yeah?” He asks you, hips never faltering as he fucks you into the table, his mouth pressed against yours as you grab him tightly, feeling the oncoming orgasm starting to flood your system.

“Yeah,” you whine softly against his mouth through your puckered lips, making Bakugou groan as he fucks you through your orgasm. You tighten up around him so deliciously, sound so pretty with your fucked out moans and hoarse voice, look so gorgeous all high out of your mind and pliant on his kitchen counter.

How could he ever remember to pull out?

You try to protest when Bakugou holds you tight and starts to cum inside of you, but your complaints fall on deaf ears. He only holds you tighter against him, groaning loud in the skin of your neck as his cock spurts his hot seed deep inside of you. When he finishes, he collapses on top of you, breathy and sweaty, and you’re in no better position. Its quiet for a while, despite your legs and back aching, and the cooling feeling of his cum starting to spill from around his softening cock still buried inside of you.

“So,” Bakugou starts, and you’re almost fearful of what he might say next. “Can you start scheduling my appointments to your apartment instead of your office now?”

You’re at least a little thankful that he has plans to let you go back to your life, even if he’s forcing himself to be apart of every little aspect of it. You nod tiredly, wondering how and if you’re going to tell your boss.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

#—new treat in the streets! ��#bakugou treats! 🍬#tw: yandere #tw: stalking #tw: dubcon

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milkpup · 11 months ago

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｡⋆ʚ♡ like father, like son

›› chapter 3 ›› nsfw 18+ ongoing multi-chapter fic!

art by @g00miato (PLS GO CHECK OUT THEIR PROFILE OMGGGGG PLS IT'S SO GOOD)

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ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ

›› toji fushiguro x reader ›› megumi fushiguro x reader ›› toji x reader x megumi (mfm) ›› 18+ f!reader ›› started: 12/6/23 : updated: 1/29/24 : status: ongoing

‹𝟹 summary: You and Megumi are best friends. You've known eachother for almost your whole life. His home has become your second home. As time passes and life happens, Megumi slowly develops feelings for you, even though he's unaware of it. To complicate things further, you're now living with him and his father, who has also taken a liking to you.

‹𝟹 fandom: jjk, jujutsu kaisen

‹𝟹 genres / warnings: au - no powers, college au, power imbalance, pseudo-incest (they both want y/n, nothing w/ eachother), dubious consent

‹𝟹 tags: good cop bad cop, fluff, smut, angst, toji has a big dick, dilf toji, toji is his own warning, toji tries to be a good parent, toji is an asshole, toji is trying okay?, daddy dom toji, daddy kink, porn with feelings, porn with plot, friends to lovers, spit / spitting, spit kink, spit as lube, breeding, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, double vaginal pen, double pen, anal, making out, making love, love triangles, praise kink, degradation, light masochism, light sadism, emotional sex, cuckolding, jealousy, jealousy kink, smoking, smoking kink, emotional manipulation, manipulation, polyamory?, father and son share you, protective megumi fushiguro, megumi needs a hug, megumi has a big dick, AGED UP CHARACTERS, dead dove: do not eat, finger sucking, large cock, cum swallowing, blow jobs, first time blow jobs, under desk blow jobs, fingerfucking, face sitting, face riding, 69, mutual masturbation, threesome mfm, lots of smut, loss of virginity

‹𝟹 notes: ch 5 is in the works, it's just taking me awhile bc i have a naoya fic i'm fixated on rn x-x enjoy!

!! - again, PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING - !!

! - ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ - !

Chapter 3: Innocence

Toji leaned against the balcony railing, smoking a cigarette. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “What the fuck were these idiots up to?” He questions himself, thinking back on what he just witnessed.

You and Megumi, in your bed, asleep. This is normally of no concern to him, you both grew up together, often having sleepovers in each other’s rooms. But this time… it was different. Why were there clothes strewn about the floor? Why was he wrapping his arm against you, pressed against your naked form?

All these thoughts were plaguing his already troubled mind. But the most problematic thought came to him overbearingly: Why am I hard?

His large cock was straining against his sweatpants, making it unbearably hard to think clearly and rationally. He felt guilty. Guilty for thinking of you that way, for tarnishing his relationship with you, and for letting his mind wander about what you and his son did. As much as it stung his heart, his body was heating up. His cock begged to be released from its clothed prison.

He took another long drag of his cigarette. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Y/N is undeniably attractive, kind, and intelligent. Any man that didn’t fall for her would be a fool. He felt a twinge of jealousy as he thought about Megumi getting to you first.

But jealousy was not the only emotion that consumed him. He put out the cigarette and went back inside his room, sliding the balcony door shut.

He walks towards his shower in the adjacent bathroom, stripping as he’s walking towards the bathroom entrance. His large cock is fully exposed, and he’s about to go fuck his fists at the thought of you and his son.

He knows it’s wrong to already think of you in this way, but he doesn’t care. He’s a man who is a slave to his desires, no rationality could bring him back in the heat of the moment. He didn’t feel too guilty though, it’s not like he was doing anything with you. He was just thinking about you. That’s fine, right? I’d never touch her. What’s wrong with a little fantasy though?

The water is almost scalding hot. He turns it down slightly and steps inside. Toji wishes it was you here instead of his hand, but he’s unsure if he would cross that line.

His back is facing the water, his forearm is against the wall of the shower. He’s leaning on it for support as he fucks his hand, thinking about how beautiful you look, how your body is such a fucking tease, how Megumi gets to be close to you but not him.

He grunts, picking up speed. He doesn’t mind sharing you, but he wants to be your first. He’s jerking his cock praying to God that Megumi hadn’t taken that part of you yet. He wants it to be his.

He licks his lips, he’s going down the rabbit hole and losing his morality. If my son can have you, why can’t I? I can please her better, and I honestly deserve it.

He pumps his cock more, thinking about how you owe it to him after all. He took you in, fed you, clothed you, basically raised you… he’s thinking of collecting his debt now. While Toji tries his best to be a generally amiable guy, he can’t fully suppress his innate urge to be an asshole. He loves you, but maybe not in the way he should.

He moans, nearing the edge of his pleasure. “My sweet Y/N, fuck..ahh” He can’t even finish a sentence, cumming at the thought of taking what’s rightfully his, and maybe letting Megumi watch just for the thrill of it.

He turns around and lets the water wash away his sinful thoughts and actions, and finishes cleaning up.

It’s Friday night, but a little too late to go out and do anything. Tomorrow, he wants to take you out.

Megumi wakes up earlier than you. He’s usually an early riser, but this time he was grateful he could look at the soft features on your face while you’re asleep. He would be way too embarrassed to watch you as intently if you were awake, he’s blushing even while you’re asleep. He doesn’t mean it in a creepy way at all, he just admires how beautiful and peaceful you seem while asleep.

You yawn and shift in the bed, and Megumi uses this as his cue that he should probably leave. He kisses you on your forehead, gets up and dresses himself, and silently lets himself out of your room.

He walks towards the living room, passing by his father’s room on the way. Toji isn’t in there, and Megumi finds him sifting through items in cupboards and in the fridge in the kitchen.

Toji is cursing himself silently, upset that he doesn’t have all the required ingredients to surprise Y/N with breakfast. Toji isn’t categorically an asshole, he wants to do nice things to spoil you but doesn’t know how. He figures this is a good idea since you usually take care of meals. He’s upset because now he has to waste time getting the ingredients, but he knows you like to sleep in on the weekends anyways.

Toji turns around and sees Megumi approaching the kitchen. “Oh hey, Megumi. Do you think Y/N would like omelettes or waffles more for breakfast? I’m trying to help her out a bit.” He smirks a bit.

“Probably waffles. I think she’s more of a sweet person.” Megumi replies, unsure why Toji even cares enough in the first place. I mean, Toji used to live off of takeout and instant food. Why is he suddenly interested in cooking? Megumi brushes it off. He doesn’t care that much anyways.

Megumi yawns as he walks towards the counter where the coffee pot is located. He starts brewing coffee as Toji moves towards the front door, grabbing his keys on the way out.

Toji returns, bags of food in hand as Megumi sips on his black coffee. He works his way to the kitchen, setting down the bags and begins to unpack them. He has to rush if he wants to make the food look presentable enough for you.

Megumi silently watches his father hastily beating eggs and flour together to make a batter. He notices so much effort on Toji’s part, it’s unsettling.

You wake to find the other side of your bed is empty, a little bit sad at the thought that Megumi got up before you. You yawn, slip out of bed, and pick out something to get dressed in. You still need to shower, since you passed out after... that.

Your face flushes immediately as the thoughts of last evening come flooding back to you. Heat pools between your legs, remembering the feel of his touch against your body.

You ignore your uninvited thoughts as you make your way to the bathroom to clean up a bit. You’ll shower after breakfast though. Fuck, I hope they’re not waiting for me to make something for them. I definitely slept in a little late. You rush to finish getting ready and exit the bathroom.

Your cinnamoroll slippers flop as you make your way to the kitchen, stifling a tiny yawn. You smell something cooking, but Megumi is sitting on the couch watching something. So that means, Toji is cooking?

He notices the soft patter of your footsteps and turns around as he finished putting the last of the batter in the waffle maker. He grins, “Good morning, Y/N. I figured I’d help you out this morning so you could sleep in. You must have been tired.”

He knows exactly why you’re tired, he’s teasing you at this point. You blush at his comments, “Good morning, Toji.” You sit down at the table beside you. “It smells delicious. Thank you Toji, I really appreciate it,” You add as you’re looking up at him with your half-lidded sleepy eyes, softly smiling.

Toji’s heart skips a beat seeing your precious smile when you’re still tired. He walks over and sets down the food, calling Megumi over.

You set a waffle on your plate, adding syrup and strawberries on top. It smells delicious, and you can’t wait to try it. You take a bite, and, it’s not that good. The toppings add flavor, but he could’ve added vanilla extract or more sweetness to the batter itself. Nonetheless, you eat it with a smile on your face. “It’s really good, Toji. Thank you!”

Megumi takes a bite. If you say it’s delicious, then it must be right. As soon as he tastes the overwhelming intensity of mediocrity and flavorlessness. “Tch.” He clicks his tongue. It’s not that good, and she’s definitely lying to him. Why?

Toji smirks at your compliments. He’s glad he made you happy. He gets up to start cleaning the table and kitchen, and you follow suit. Megumi is uninterested and returns to the living room, putting on some random, boring show.

“Thank you Toji, it was good. I was worried since I slept in late that I left you all hanging,” you chuckle out.

Toji is washing dishes beside you, as you’re picking them up and drying them. “You’re welcome, Y/N. Anything for you.” He looks over at your flustered face and smiles.

You get caught up looking at his adorable grin and reach over to grab the next plate to be dried. Instead, you make contact with his soapy hand instead. You linger for a little too long, hyperaware of the small touch you just made. You’re embarrassed and pull away. “S-sorry…” You manage to stumble out, blushing and looking away.

“Don’t be, doll .” He eyes you up and down, smirking. She’s so fucking hot, and innocent too. It’s almost too easy.

Megumi overhears chatter and catches you a blushing mess in front of his father. He can see the way Toji observes you, like a predator waiting to pounce on its prey. Why am I uncomfortable? Am I jealous? Of my own father? I mean, we just had an amazing night together, why should I be jealous? His heart was pounding, feeling suddenly possessive over someone that wasn’t even his. The loudest thought roaring through his mind, however, was the most disturbing. Why am I hard? He clenched his fists and grit his teeth. This should not be happening.

You finish cleaning up with Toji, when he gently grabs your wrist and looks at you. “Let’s go out together. We need more stuff for the house.”

You already knew this and were planning your usual errands for later today. You look up at Toji and nod, “Sounds good. I’m going to shower and get ready first.”

He releases the soft grip on your wrist, and you walk away towards the bathroom. He licks his lips as he watches your womanly figure recede from vision. He can’t stop looking at the way your shorts hug your hips and ass as you walk away. He grins mischievously and thinks to himself: I can’t wait to get all of that later.

‹𝟹 notes: ch 4 is on my ao3, i'll be posting it to tumblr shortly! lmk what y'all think!!!!

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‹𝟹 notifs: @vvxxccaa @arylaa @starshipxoxo

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(･ω･)つ divider creds to @/cafekitsune and @/eloquentreverie

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monst · 3 months ago

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LOVEE your tim fics🩷🩷 i keep coming back to read them again 🥹 if its okay can i ask if youre planning anything else for him?

Aww Thank you! That really means a lot! And it’s more than okay to ask! Eeeekkk I’m like obsessed with Tim so there’s so much I have planned for him. I try to hold myself back cause I don’t wanna be stingy and hog the tags >.<

Ahhh okay okay I’m just really excited! Right, so imma separate this into two categories Sfw & nsfw(Under cut)

WC- 800

Sfw:

Tim drake General hc’s: We’re sitting at 2.3k words for this so I’m tryna cut this down.

A couple of cute date fics: Sort of like “Go for a drive” and “Watching the sunset” Ex: Watching movies in the car (Drive up movie theater), Skateboarding, and slushies (Some graffiti) Gala shit, Maybe some sports stuff cause he’s low-key sporty (Multifacited this one, probably why I like him so much lol) Magic shenanigans while play their version of D&D (Kinda like that one Gravity falls episode, gotta bring in my witch boy Klarion) Mostly fluff

Another edition of ‘High Ramblings about Tim Drake’: I mean I typed it out and I figured I might as well post it- just general ideas on what DC can do with his character. Hypothetical story arcs, his position in Gotham, his age and alias, etc.

Father, there's something wrong with Timothy: Aftermath of Joker Junior, Mostly from Damian’s pov. This one is more of an Elseworlds au since I didn’t want it to be the Batman Beyond version. Anon requested the batfam’s reaction to his relapse so it’s canon adjacent? (Not an x reader) Thriller/Horror.

Executive Tim: Anon req. Yandere Tim Drake. He’s already got a killer migraine and Tam’s replacement already screwed up. Screwed up may be a bit harsh but with the week he’s had he wasn’t feeling quite charitable. The mix-up with one of their outside distributors has Tim calling different vendors. Multiple calls later and he swears if he gets transferred to a different department one more goddamn time he’s going to- “Hello you’ve reached (Your name) how can I help you?” - Employee poaching lol, Unhealthy power dynamics, Gratuitous abuse of power.

Around the world: Series in no particular order. I hc that he’s learned to make the most of his time with his partner. (Past relationships failing due to not spending any time together) So even if you're not a vigilante he takes you with him on missions if you're also free and down. Needs to do a stakeout? Going undercover? Trailing a suspect? Or just general boots to the ground investigating? He’s asking if you’d like to tag along. However, anything that involves him in the mask or anything that involves physical combat is off the table. You walk into his apartment and see Tim's bitchy face and he just asks you “You wanna go to Switzerland?”

Old friend: Some call it being at the wrong place at the wrong time others prefer to call it fate. Honestly, he never pondered fatalism. But the joker was dead and there were no leads. Whoever had done it didn't leave anything behind nor did they announce it. It had to be fate. After all, this was the kind of death the psychotic clown would have despised. It’s been two weeks and the blame game had already been played. Solid alibis. He was told not to investigate. So he was in some dingy laundromat with Ives; catching up with old friends to curb his need to investigate. But he recognized the employee refilling the quarters “(Name?)” - Mystery, suggestive themes, smoking, gang affiliations, Hypocrite Tim Drake

Not your typical office romance: Multi-chapter, your company sends you as part of a team to initiate building reforms in Gotham. As a result, your introduced to your new colleague for this project Tim Drake from Wayne’s R&D department. You're eager to get to work, but your flakey coworker is halting progress. Your polite facade comes crumbling down due to massive misunderstandings. Lots of antagonism, Bitchy Reader

Nsfw:

Escalation 2: This one is mostly done just need to edit. You found a way to play off not seeing the snap but my boy is shameless. And you may have started something you'll lose at.... There is now a part three in the works..... Fml but fucking screaming at how much it well escalates 😆

Deal with the devil: Dark! Tim drake (Borderline Yandere) Hmm. This one is fucked; He should have left you to your fate. You knew better than to go investigate that cave alone but that’s just who you were, reckless, fickle, unburdened, hardheaded. He didn’t know whether he hated you or if he was just deeply envious. But even so, he couldn’t just leave you alone, not when you actually used the emergency beacon he gave you. Not when you actually kept it. He should have expected that it was Ra’s Al Ghul’s doing, he should have ignored his words, he should have but a snake seduced Eve in the Garden of Eden, and wasn’t Ra’s a devil?

Five minutes: Oral fixation reader, Tim’s playing Apex (Octane or Horizon main) with some old friends but you really need him in your mouth. Subspace. Why Apex? Because everything I know about it has been involuntary.

Vacation: Sort of a spin-off of Across the World. This series involves trips around the states and the world. He’s a vigilante but he’s also a very public figure that still needs to attend certain social events. Ex: Ski trips(This one* mhm), Weekend Conferences, or just a vacation. (Cases might align with an event)

Indecent: You come up to his office while he’s busy. But you came up looking too distracting how on earth is he supposed to concentrate? Spoiler he doesn’t. (SneakPeek)

Boudoir pics: Cute flirty pictures of each other that's what this was supposed to be.

Impatient: The fact that your boyfriend could so easily hold you down was very hot. But you're so over it, if he didn't stop teasing you were going to die! Tim x M. Reader

Lastly: he has like two days in the upcoming kinktober event. Maybe an add to possibility ft Poison Ivy

A/N: My undiagnosed ADHD won’t let me write things in order so that’s the reason why most of my stuff takes a while and/or sits in my drafts for ages (Ex: I have Bruce Hc’s that have been done for weeks…) Also, thanks for the ask! I had all of these all over the place this def helped me organize it all.

#Oooh I can use this as a masterlist too #uh random bullshit go!#tim drake x reader #Special sorry to ya who follow me for my bnha stuff most of your asks are outlined T.T

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whumpsday · 7 months ago

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3 whumpy anime to check out this spring!

Go Go Loser Ranger is a heroes vs. villains anime where the villains are the good guys and the heroes are downright evil. Having wiped out all the powerful monsters more than a decade ago, the heroes keep the weakest monsters captive, to parade around and torment on a weekly basis while the public believes otherwise. Because they're immortal when hit with most weapons, they'll always reform to be hurt over and over again, despite feeling all the pain.

Footsoldier D is one of those weak monsters, an immortal shapeshifter made of dust, called a "duster". After escaping the heroes' arena, he forms a plan to kill the heroes and steal the few weapons they have that can permanently kill dusters, freeing the rest of his kind. Given that he has the constitution of a porcelain doll, he can't use strength to fight: he has to rely on wits, stealth, shapeshifting (despite knowing very little about humans or the outside world), and a shaky alliance with a double-agent ranger who seems to be taking advantage of him for her own gain.

Whump tags: villain whumpee, hero whumper, immortal whumpee

Watch it on Hulu, Disney+, or any unofficial anime site.

And if you don't have time to check out a whole anime, the Go Go Loser Ranger opening theme video is also really good, with fantastic visuals symbolizing D's struggles!

An Archdemon's Dilemma is a romantic comedy stuffed to the brim with popular whump tropes. Zagan is a demonic sorcerer who attends an auction for the possessions of another recently-killed sorcerer, when he sees that one of those "possessions" is an elf slave, Nephelia. Having had a destitute, harsh past himself, he feels a rush of sympathy and buys her way out, vowing to ensure her safety. However, Nephelia is terrified, believing she's about to be used as a sacrifice in a dark magic ritual. And unfortunately for both of them, Zagan is a socially awkward loser who sucks at communicating.

It's surreal seeing something that looks like it could be a caretaker-new-master whump fic as an actual, fully-realized anime. It definitely doesn't take itself too seriously despite the premise, leaning heavily on the "comedy" part of romantic comedy, and is mostly just a silly time with lots of whump-adjacent stuff thrown in. Fanfic-y to the point of "there's only one bed" being an actual line.

Whump tags: fantasy slavery (very pet-whump-esque in its tropes), caretaker new master

Watch it on Crunchyroll or any unofficial anime site.

The Grimm Variations is an anthology of horror retellings of several Brothers Grimm fairy tales. With each episode being written and directed by different people, it varies wildly in quality, with episodes ranging from laughably bad to incredibly good, but I'm here to talk about episode 2: Little Red Riding Hood.

The Little Red Riding Hood takes place in a dystopian future where the upper and middle class use virtual reality technology to augment their reality. One man, Grey, is tired of this and craves the real: specifically, the feeling of real blood spraying him as he murders countless women, his wealth and connections protecting him from consequences. But when this serial killer makes the mistake of targeting a woman called Scarlet, he finds himself on the other side of the knife. This episode is a complete and utter gorefest with multiple onscreen torture scenes.

This isn't even my favorite episode of the series, it's like my 3rd favorite. But episode 2 is the one with the gruesome torture scene, so it's the one that goes in this post.

Little Red Riding Hood whump tags: whumper-turned-whumpee, torture, gore

Little Red Riding Hood warnings: sexual assault, eye gore, fingernail gore, violence against women, major character death

Watch it on Netflix or any unofficial anime site. Orrrr if you just wanna watch the big torture scene without any of the context, it's on Youtube.

that's all I have for now :)

(P.S: Dungeon Meshi, while not really whumpy as a whole, is also currently airing and very very good and I might write whump fanfic for it at some point in the near future. Netflix or any unofficial anime site.)

#fandom

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tacticiandrafts · 4 months ago

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THE CRUCIFIXION ; Nikolai Gogol, Fyodor Dostoevsky x fem!Reader

Part one / 5.2k words

SYNOPSIS . . . Your plans to lay low as a fugitive in the magical capital of Athlyne are spoiled upon meeting Nikolai, an eccentric conman. Interested in your powers, he introduces you to Fyodor, his charming and mysterious associate. You’ve stepped into his trap before you know it.

CW/TAGS . . . Dark fantasy setting, mentions of drug dependency and a corrupt government, reader is an anxious mess

P.S. ! HELLOOO EVERYNYAN! this is part one of a series (out of ~6 or 7, tentatively). i’m experiencing nikolai fever so i’m excited to continue letting him consume my mind :)

also posted on ao3 @ tactician!

As a light breeze drifted through the window and fanned your hot neck, your eyes fluttered shut. You let the pestle slip from your hand momentarily as you leaned against the counter, shivering as the sweat cooled. From behind you, Dr. Yosano chuckled.

“Letting the heat get to you?”

“Yeah, sorry. This is the last one, though.”

She peered over your shoulder and nodded approvingly as you finished crushing a mixture of ginkgo root and dried centipede. “Looks good.” Counting the bottles neatly tucked away on the shelf above you, she let out a low whistle. “You’re really on top of things today. I thought we’d be behind on orders.”

You grinned, dragging a forearm across your damp hairline. “I’ve got an errand to run, so I thought I might take my leave a bit early.”

She nodded approvingly. “That’s fine with me. Thanks for the hard work.”

You spent a few more minutes helping her box up the orders you had just made and finally straightened your aching back with a groan. A strong arm snaked around your shoulders and you shivered as Dr. Yosano smirked, a dark glint in her eye. “Are you sore? Why don’t you let me take a look, hm?”

A shiver traveled down your spine, and you doubted it had anything to do with the remnants of magical seeds you’d just been working with. You flailed a bit as you slipped from her tightening grip, bounding toward the door to pick up the satchel and parasol you’d thrown on the hook earlier that morning. “No thanks, I should get going. I’ll see you for dinner!” Her dramatic sigh drifted out behind you as the door swung open and closed, the humidity fully enveloping you.

The afternoon sun hung high, occasionally eclipsed by passing clouds. The summer air was thick as the pulp of a blood orange; you cowered under the parasol as you made your way down the street. Even the shade that canopied the area surrounding the apothecary could do little to relieve your discomfort as a damp film coated your skin.

Auguste Apothecary, the pride and joy of your boss, Akiko Yosano, was nestled by the side of a towering zelkova elm. The massive size of the tree made the building appear dwarfish and shoddy, but its regular customers hardly minded its outward appearance. Though the elite had their own pharmaceutical facilities closer to the palace and Auguste had a bit of a shady reputation, it was located smack dab in the middle of the largest residential district in the capital of Athlyne, so it had likely never experienced a shortage of customers from the day of its opening.

Dr. Yosano’s pool of patrons wasn’t huge by any means, but no one would dare visit another apothecary after walking into hers. Her knowledge of natural medicine was unmatched and her ingredients, supplied by a talented farming mage, were of the highest quality. Though, you probably would have stayed by her side even if she turned out to be an incompetent fraud. She was sharp and incredibly capable, this was true, but you thought that her kindness and discretion were her finest qualities by far. For that reason, you expected that no one was more loyal to her than you were.

You had run away from your hometown, located in a distant territory of Athlyne, at age fourteen. Fleeing to an adjacent province and finding work as an apothecary’s assistant in exchange for food and shelter, you lived with a constant knot of anxiety twisting in your stomach, wondering how many days of peace you had left until your family found you. That was, until the Meursault Post arrived on the shop’s doorstep, containing an advertisement for a position at one of the capital’s finest apothecaries with the promise of shelter and a decent salary. Athlyne’s capital was densely populated and located hundreds of miles away from your home—it was your best shot at a halfway normal life. Adrenaline running all the way to your toes, you traveled for two weeks on about half the rations you really needed for such a trip and eventually found yourself collapsed in Auguste’s entryway. In your starved and fearful state, you’d begged Dr. Yosano to take you in, listing every personal merit you could think of, and all she’d done was shrug. Sure, she said nonchalantly, come here and show me what you know. As it turned out, no one else had shown up regarding the position (she was a teenager, only a few years older than you, and everyone else had simply laughed in her face) so she would have hired you no matter what sort of impression you made. Regardless, you could feel simple appreciation and sympathetic care in her every action. After all, she never asked any questions. She had no interest in your origins, nor did she pry when she found you sprawled under the elm tree in the middle of the night, under eyes dark and knees bouncing. She helped you set up your living quarters in one of the cabins behind the building, helped you make dinner every night, and wordlessly prepared a steaming cup of jasmine tea each time you were hit with a bout of insomnia.

Hitching a ride on the back of a supply cart headed toward the lower market, you thought you might pick up a batch of sweets or a bottle of wine for her.

Your thoughts trailed off as the cart began to head downhill, passing through the open gates into the underground sector of the capital. The air became cooler the further in you went, and you let out a little sight of relief. The streets there were sprawling, narrow, and winding. It was easy to get lost and even easier to find yourself trapped for hours searching for the exit. Though it may have felt a bit claustrophobic, the lower market was far livelier and less sterile than the markets above ground. It was rare to find Count Bram’s police force wandering around there, so the atmosphere was energetic and relaxed, with a variety of talented performers and community-oriented business owners. On top of that, the usually tight regulations on magical powers and objects were far more lenient, so there were certain things you could only see or purchase there.

Dr. Yosano never spoke of it, so you didn’t dare ask, but rumor had it that the lower market was the territory of her former teacher and the previous owner of Auguste Apothecary. Little was known of the shadowy Dr. Mori, but stories often circulated of the scandal that drove him underground. It was said that the apothecary was burned to the ground by the military after numerous reports of malpractice leading to death. It was revealed that he was an unregistered mage, but his imbued medications were so powerful that Count Bram allowed him to run free in the lower market provided that he offered his services to the palace. Left in the ashes of a terrible disgrace, a still teen-aged Dr. Yosano received funding from an anonymous benefactor and rebuilt the apothecary herself. Now, she barely broached the topic of Dr. Mori, but she was outspoken in her disdain for the medications he produced.

Incidentally, these medications were the reason for your errand. If you followed certain whispers, you’d be able to find one of Dr. Mori’s subordinates selling suppressants, pills that blocked your magical ability. You felt guilty for keeping this from Dr. Yosano, but it couldn’t be helped. At the moment, suppressants were your lifeline. Though the apothecary’s ingredients were nothing to sneeze at, you hadn’t yet succeeded in making your own solution with anything close to the same efficacy. Dr. Mori’s methods to make such a medication remained a mystery.

Jumping off the cart, you weaved through the crowd. Cheers erupted as a man, likely a former member of the traveling Fitzgerald Circus, juggled fiery tennis balls with his bare hands. Going further downhill and turning onto several more backstreets, your eyes roved over the various shops, snoozing animals, and hollering people before arriving at the front of a small and unassuming tavern. Squeezing through the door, you passed through the low-lit hallway and ducked around the corner past the bar to find the back room. You swore under your breath as you approached the door. Low stock. Be back Monday. Sorry :). Reading the words, a deep frown crossed your face. You had run out days ago and hadn’t had the time to make the trip until today.

Cursing Dr. Mori’s subordinate until the end of time (count your days, Ichiyou Higuchi!), you turned back, ignoring the old bartender’s piercing, monocled stare. You would’ve stopped to play a game or two of chess with him as you usually did, but you were too absorbed in your current dilemma to give him much other than an apologetic smile and a wave. This situation was a first, but you guessed that you only had a few days before your power began coming back to you.

Suppressants were a double-edged sword. They helped unregistered mages live normal lives without having to serve in Count Bram’s court, police force, or military by erasing their abilities without a trace. Even if a tip sent the police knocking at your door, they’d find it impossible to tell whether you possessed abnormal powers or not. But dependency on suppressants was a lifelong struggle. There were no unwanted side effects, but they rendered users financially dependent on Dr. Mori’s underground trade forever. If you stopped taking them, your powers would return, for a short time more powerful and difficult to control than they had ever been. Of course Dr. Yosano didn’t approve: they were a bandaid of a solution to a larger problem that would only benefit one man in the end.

Mages were few and far between in Athlyne and its territories, but they were plentiful in the capital’s lower market due to Dr. Mori’s services. Whole families were killed serving in the military generations before you were born. Now, during Bram’s rule, mages were either from one of two families serving directly under the Count or they were the product of a mutation, the first of their kind in their family. Most members of the latter group did everything in their power to avoid being drafted, and that usually meant selling their livelihoods to afford a lasting supply of suppressants. The state of the nation at the hands of powerful figures was unforgivable, and Dr. Mori’s greed only worsened the struggles of the common people. But given your own circumstances, coexisting with your magic was unthinkable. Ridding yourself of that curse was the entire reason you started anew in the first place. So, like many others, you found yourself in an impossible dilemma.

In your restlessness, you must have made a wrong turn. When you finally broke out of your own head and took a look around, the surrounding streets were unfamiliar. You let out a slow and heavy sigh. Perhaps you’d wander and shop for a while before asking for directions.

At that moment, a hand slipped into your own. Your arm was lifted above your head with a flourish, and before you could react, you were spun around to face the man who’d grabbed you.

“Hello, my lost-looking lady!”

You blinked at him, trying to swallow down your instinctual panic. You didn’t expect to be left alone in your wandering knowing that the capital’s conmen were notoriously bothersome, but abruptly grabbing a stranger was like asking for a fist to the nose. …Gosh, though, your annoyance stuttered as your gaze traveled over his face. His radiant skin, mischievous smile, and glowing eyes almost distracted you from the scar running across his eye and the calluses littering the heel of his palm. Even these attributes were attractive, cutting through his forcibly high tone and boyish features. He was tall, with a long braid thrown over his broad shoulder… You huffed in an attempt to shoo these thoughts out of your head. As you stared up at him, numerous passersby peeked at the bizarre scene before turning their heads down and briskly walking away. It would be best to yank your hand back and continue on as though nothing had happened, much the same as everyone else.

“May I ask what you’re doing touching me?” And yet, you did the opposite. You couldn’t be blamed. He was very handsome.

“Allow me to explain. I couldn’t resist seeing a surprised look on a lovely face like yours! You see, I can tell you’re in need of excitement!”

“Ah, twenty words or less, please. I’m trying to decide if I should punch you or hear you out, you see.”

“Oh! I like you already! I have fifteen left now, right? Wait, no, I messed up! I’m running out!” He squealed as he let you go, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. You frowned, trying to hide the amusement beginning to mask your annoyance. Instead of responding, you placed a hand on your hip and raised a brow at him. The man dropped out of the cutesy pose he had been holding and took off his hat, bringing it to his chest in a polite gesture. His voice lowering, though still not without a teasing lilt, he began to explain. “My name is Nikolai and I’m a fortune teller!” He threw his hat up and gave you a spin, catching it as he faced you again. This time, he inched closer, eyes narrowing. “I sensed quite a turbulent energy as you passed by just now. In fact, I can tell how special you are! You can see your own destiny, can’t you? How exciting! Would you spare a moment for a reading?”

You shivered, tensing. Those words, a bit too close to the truth, felt far too pointed. And that look in his eyes—did he know you? Though this was undoubtedly a part of his routine, you couldn’t help the way his words triggered your deeply rooted paranoia. Perhaps he recognized you—but he couldn’t, you were so far from home, and the photos would be outdated by now…You were falling right into such an easily avoidable trap. Even so, with the threat of your magic looming over you, your judgment became impossible to trust. Dread pulled at your shoulders and fingertips, the thought of this man knowing something chilling your blood. You’d have to indulge him, just to be sure. Even if you were only being paranoid, your life was on the line here.

(There was no need to mention the small part of your mind that was bored and frustrated and very much wanted to hang out with a funny and attractive man, so long as you kept a tight hold on your wallet.)

“A reading…?” You tilted your head, coy.

“Yes, your fortune! My shop is just down the road, so what do you say? Will you place your future in my trusty hands?” His words were laced with so much mirth and mischief that you wondered if he was even taking himself seriously.

Hesitantly, you shrugged. “Fine. My plans for today have fallen through. Lead the way.”

Anyone who took such a tone with him was probably not likely to agree to follow him in the end. You could tell from his genuine look of surprise at your words, which quickly morphed into even greater mirth than before.

An infectious giggle rang through the air. He wasted no time invading your personal space again, hooking an arm around your elbow and starting to skip. You would have tripped and slammed your face into the ground if not for his surprising strength as he pulled you along. If you were anyone else, your suspicion might have eased up as you processed how ridiculous the two of you definitely looked, frolicking through the crowds like a couple of hearty drunk men.

He didn’t take you very far, making only a few turns (hopping all the way) before leading you down a slightly quieter street. There, you found yourself pushing through the door of what looked like a small library or bookstore. Clouds of dust puffed out as you moved through the space, ducking your head to squeeze past eerily low rafters toward a sitting room in the back. This was obviously not his shop (an old man greeted you when you walked in), and he probably rented this back room out for his hustles. Still, it looked surprisingly cozy, with an old armchair positioned near the entrance and a small walnut coffee table between two stools in the back. Nikolai had finally let go to allow you to navigate there without encountering any hazards, bewildering you a bit as he bounded through with almost impossible grace given his height. You took the chance to look around, wondering if you felt impressed or put off by his design choices. The creaky wooden boards were muted by numerous rugs scattered across the floor, an eclectic collection of oil lamps bathed the room in a low but warm yellow light, and a violently red porcelain tea set glittered on the table. Taking it all in, you sat down, playing with your hands for a moment as you watched Nikolai follow behind you.

A grey cat with barely-there stripes glanced up at him, squinting sleepily on the armchair. He patted its head as he passed, chirping in feline fashion as he met its eyes. The cat simply flopped to the side, curling its paws as its soft, fat stomach spilled over the cushion beneath it. He almost mirrored it in the way he plopped himself on the stool across from you, grinning.

Sweat began to gather at your temples. He continued staring at you without saying anything. The attention flustered you, so you averted your gaze to his hands. They were long and slender, and they had felt gentle, rough and warm in your hand—make up your mind! Are you scared or attracted to him?! “So…shall we?”

Nikolai nodded, gesturing widely to the cat. “Don’t mind my assistant, oka~y? She won’t spill your secrets, so don’t worry about a thing!”

“Yeah, sure,” you snorted. You were starting to regret everything from the moment you woke up that morning as you stared at the lounging cat, thinking you really needed to work on your impulse control, so you decided to turn your attention toward Nikolai as he shuffled a set of cards. You hadn’t seen him pull them out.

Now that you were sitting right in front of him, your eyes moved absently over him a few times.

He wore a long white tunic with ornate black embroidery traveling past the collar and circling the buttons down the front. His white pants were similarly intricate, the patterns disappearing where the wide legs were tucked neatly into his boots and the waist was fastened to his hips by a silky black sash. Strings of pearly beads and brightly colored tassels adorned him from head to toe: they hung from his neck, draped across his black fur cap, and swayed across his pants. The maximalist patterning and embellishing of his clothes wasn’t unusual for an entertainer, especially one who operated in the lower market. Showmanship was probably what paid the bills, after all. Still, there was something more to him that you couldn’t place hidden beneath the flashy gestures and showy words. Perhaps if anyone else wore those clothes, so fit for a clown, they’d be easier to avoid altogether. But Nikolai seemed scarily calculating for the second-rate, theatrical scammer he presented himself to be. Though he disguised it well, you still couldn’t shake off the feeling that he’d approached you for a reason. His words and his gaze were just too pointed. The thought startled you, and you averted your eyes again for fear of him noticing how blatantly you were checking him out. If he noticed, he made no indication if it, immersed in his own show.

“Ah! I see!” He gasped loudly, pulling a single card out from the stack and scrutinizing it before nodding dramatically. He held the card between his index and middle finger, shutting his eyes as though he was performing some sort of ritual. Then, he spun it around and let go of it, letting it flutter down in front of you.

A stranger in the capital using cards to tell the future was utterly laughable to you. Only the scattered descendants of the Chekhov family had the innate gift of foresight. Even if these cards themselves were magical, they had to have been imbued by a Royal Sorcerer of the Camus family, and artifacts made by a Camus were just about as hard to come by as the throne itself. Nikolai was obviously not a Chekhov, and he couldn’t possibly afford an artifact if he was performing cons in the lower market.

Nevertheless, the image that stared back at you froze your pulse.

You recognized The Lovers from your own handling of cards nearly a decade ago. This particular rendition featured two birds circling each other over an abyssal, grey sea. They were seagulls, and their coloring was a striking match to the one on the Chekhov family crest: an image you were intimately familiar with.

“Oh my!” Nikolai let out a high-pitched giggle. A horrible heat rose to your neck. “Now, for a quiz! Do you know what this card is telling us?” You opened your mouth, mind racing for an excuse, for a lie, or some other explanation. You couldn’t come up with anything, nor could you bring yourself to get up and run. Though, he barely gave you time to think about it because he didn’t wait for your answer. “We were destined to meet today, darling! This could mean only one thing.”

Your heart began to pound so frantically that you almost missed his next words.

“You and I are soulmates!” He threw himself forward to look even closer at you, his mouth curling into a scandalized grin.

“Um, what?” You couldn’t mask your confusion. Your head was spinning, the shock from what you expected him to say had rendered you dumb. To make matters worse, that most certainly was not what the card meant, and somehow his shoddy grasp of tarot was so funny to you that you shook with the effort it took to force yourself to stay serious.

“As you can see, this card here called out to me. The Lovers! The name says it all.” Though you should have played along the same way you had done this entire time, you forgot to react. He continued on, waving his hands in excitement. “We’re destined to be together! Yay!”

After a moment, you shook your head in disbelief, heaving out the breath you had been holding in. “Are you messing with me right now? You don’t even know what the cards mean.”

Even the offense he feigned held a trace of barely concealed humor. “Surely not! My assistant can sense it too!” You turned your gaze to the cat, who had rolled over to face away from Nikolai and his loud voice.

He was ridiculous. You suppressed a smile.

“You are messing with me. This is the worst scam ever. Even though I walked into it.” You started to stand, pouting facetiously.

His hands quickly found yours and he stared at you with an exaggerated, puppy-like sadness.

“My love!” The sadness quickly dissipated as he winked cheekily. “My services aren’t free, silly.”

The moment abruptly ruined, you recoiled. “What? …You’re serious?” He stuck his tongue out, sliding you a piece of paper (where did that come from?) across the table. You glared down at the beautifully inked, absolutely preposterous bill. A drawing of Nikolai’s face mocked you from beside the numbers. “What’s the point of this? I think you know I’ve never seen this much money in my life.” And I really thought we were flirting just now, even though I still kind of feel as though you might be plotting my downfall.

He nodded, snatching the piece of paper and crumpling it up. “Co~rrect!” He stood, pointing at you. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the conundrum! You’re in debt because of a scam, but you’re broke as a joke! Wait! Oops, forget I said that! Oh no, what should we do?!”

Your horror, amusement, and bashfulness having now faded slightly, your head was clear enough to observe him. He had a habit of rambling on like he was telling one long inside joke, pretending to get worked up while speaking fast enough to prevent you from getting a word in unless he wanted you to say something. His behavior was beginning to confirm your suspicions—you were convinced now that your original hunch was accurate. He wasn’t at all as dense as he made himself out to be, and he wasn’t just a scammer.

Still, you couldn’t understand him at all. Nikolai was putting on such an obvious show, one you’d seen many times in your curiosity surrounding the self-proclaimed fortune tellers of the lower market. But nothing about him was adding up. Why did he seek you out? How could his reading have exposed you so thoroughly, even though he had no knowledge of the cards’ true meanings? And if he approached you because he knew who you were, if he was trying to reel you in and sell you off to your family, what was the point of fooling around so obtusely, of making a scene outside? In the capital, your family name was synonymous with dirty money. He’d have more trouble on his hands than it was worth if he attracted too much attention.

All of that being said, he had drawn you in with alarming skill. You were curious. You wanted to run. You wanted more. Your head spun. Should you be running?

Only one thing was clear. He’d spent this time trying to confuse you because he wanted something. What could that be, though, if not the Chekhov family’s ransom money?

“A date!” Nikolai announced his wish before you had even a moment to ponder it.

Once again, he made you feel slow. The realization made you laugh. “A date with me?”

“A date with you!” He grabbed your hand and spun you around again, this time pulling a single red rose seemingly from thin air. He slipped it behind your ear with a ghostly soft touch and tapped your nose lightly before taking a step back.

“All of this was a ploy to…ask me out?” It wasn’t, but the joke relaxed you. You wished you could be naive, that you could trust that it was. He offered a knowing smile in return.

“Bin~go! You pass with flying colors!”

You laughed again, loudly, from deep in your stomach. “Great. You can have your date, so I’ll get going now, alright? Quit harassing me.” He took a step back, watching you from a distance now.

The smile that bloomed on his face was small enough to bewilder you again, to quiet your laughter. His eyes lost their mischievous shine as they softened, the clownish pitch disappearing from his voice when he spoke again. It was as if he was speaking to you for the first time. “Sure. Think of this as the start of another game. I’d like it if you entertained me just once more. I have a favor to ask of you, when we meet again.”

His genuine gaze was heart-stopping. It filled every inch of the distance he’d just put between the two of you. Dr. Yosano had taught you to be careful of the unpredictability of strangers in the capital, but your answer came easily.

“Alright. You can find me at Auguste Apothecary when you’re ready. I’ll pay you back. Promise.”

He said nothing, but his eyes narrowed again with his usual jovial pretense as he held the door open and watched you go.

Continuing on your way as though nothing had happened and your heart wasn’t seizing inside your chest, you found yourself buying a few bottles of wine in a stupor.

Nikolai was nothing if not confusing. How could a man you’d just met touch at your deepest anxieties with just a few cryptic words, sending your heart plummeting to your stomach, then eclipse every inch of fear simply by amusing you with a teasing look and a sharp laugh?

The confusion followed you all the way out of the cool underground air, through the oppressive summer humidity, and to the familiar silhouette of Auguste.

“Did you travel all that way just to get me some wine? Seriously?”

Dr. Yosano’s familiar voice unfurled your tangled thoughts. You turned to smile at her, embarrassed. “Not exactly. This was the only errand I was able to get done, though.”

She returned your smile with a bemused one of her own. “Sounds like things didn’t go your way today.” She grabbed two glasses and took your hand, wrapping your fingers around the stem of one. “There’s always tomorrow, though. Wanna drink to that?”

You huffed, silently judging her heavy-handed pour as she filled them both. “Sure. To a luckier tomorrow.”

As you took a sip, all the air left your lungs and the force of it nearly bowled you over. Everything around you seemed to disappear, your senses swept away in a vacuum. The image was clearer than any glimpse of the future you’d seen before taking suppressants: your hands, dripping red. Your nails, caked with dirt and blood. Nikolai, his expression obscured as he soaked in the shadows at the furthest corner of the room. A man you’d never met before sat in front of you, smirking. His black hair framed his pale, sullen face like a marble arch, cold to the touch. When he spoke, his words were quiet and soft. They hit you like thorns. You shook your head, angry, scared, and tearful. “It’s because I trust that both of us will be saved,” you retorted, and his smirk twisted.

When the vision ended, it was like a sheet being ripped from over your head. The back of Dr. Yosano’s hand was cooling your forehead and one of the glasses was shattered on the floor, staining everything red. Your fingers, your nails, both of your feet, her wool socks.

You leaned into her touch and thought about how to breathe again. You blinked away everything you had just seen, focusing only on the image of Nikolai, of his face, unreadable.

You were prepared this time. You repeated this like a mantra in your head, thinking of nothing else as the other woman helped you into bed, laying a cold towel over your head.

You can find me at Auguste Apothecary when you’re ready.

You kept blinking, but the shadows never left, never revealed his eyes.

Even as you recalled all the times you, yourself, weren’t ready, each time you failed at your duties, you kept repeating it. You were prepared. The vision faded, and the words shifted in your mind as you succumbed to sleep.

I’ll find you there soon. Are you ready?

The voice was soft. You bled when you touched it. The sound sent rats scurrying away, fleeing. Everything was cold, like black marble.

By the next evening, you remembered nothing of your dream and could only recall bits and pieces of the vision. Again, you cursed Ichiyou Higuchi, who had really done nothing wrong except for being absent when you needed her. Finally feeling the weight of a bag of suppressants in your hand, you felt you could face anything.

All you needed to do was wait for him to show up.

#nikolai x reader #nikolai gogol #bsd nikolai #fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd fanfic

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villainbait · 2 months ago

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Unexpected Inspiration

Pairing: Rafayel x reader Rating: E | Explicit | 18+ Tags: stalking, flirting, obsessive behavior, obsession, fantasizing, fantasy bondage, implied non-con Summary: Even though you’re not her, it would be all too easy and Rafayel plans to take full advantage of the situation. However, you don't play along quite like he planned. Word Count: 700~

A/N: I saw someone posting headcanons about rafayel stalking MC and it gave me an idea. This is just sort of me studying his psyche in a different way that's a bit darker. Hope you enjoy and thank you for reading. ♥

“I know, I know.” Rafayel whines, his lower lip jutting out even though the person on the other end of the line couldn’t see it. “I said I know, alright? I’ll stay away from her until the time is right like I promised. Don’t be such a killjoy.”

He was standing outside the art shop, debating whether or not he wanted to paint. Everything had seemed so dull lately after seeing her on campus and he was desperate for anything to catch his eye. In fact, he had replayed the glimpse of her so much he was starting to hallucinate as he watched you hurry towards him before turning sharply and entering into the shop. Fate had never been that kind, but today she was cruel.

“Gotta go.” He hangs up the phone abruptly and follows you into the art shop, brushing his bangs from his eyes with a practiced gesture.

You weren’t her and a pang of disappointment shot through his gut. Yet, you looked so much like her that the two of you could've been sisters in this lifetime. As he followed you around the modest paint shop, he realizes that it has been hard for him to stay away from her and you…well, you came along at the perfect time.

It was all too easy.

You were looking at canvas options when he approached and asked what it was you wanted to paint. He could tell you thought he was attractive, but that was to be expected and he was unimpressed by your compliments. Though you shrugged off his casual touch, surely you were just shy. He made you laugh and could tell you were enjoying the unexpected interruption.

However, after some flirting and fun banter he thought you’d be an easy mark.

But you just left.

That bothered him. That irked him. He was put out by your soft rejection and easy dismissal.

So he followed you, intending to soothe his injured pride, but something in the way you interacted with this cold, insipid world stopped him. He watched as you knelt to gently touch the petal of a flower growing in one of the many planters along the street, half-expecting you to pluck it. When you merely appreciated its violet beauty with the soft stroke of your finger before moving on, Rafayel hung back and found himself curious about a human for the first time in a long time.

Rafayel was curious about you.

Rafayel dogs your steps over the next week and hits the jackpot, finding that you live in a quaint but cozy condo by the sea. He finds his thoughts dipping into dangerous territory, but he can’t seem to stop. In those brief moments he heard your voice over the last week, he couldn’t stop from imagining how you would sound writhing in pleasure underneath him. Would your cries be just as sweet?

He slides his thumb idly across his lower lip just thinking about how you’d taste. How would you sound begging, desperate for release that he would continue to deny you? The mere thought of seeing you cry because of him made him more aroused than he’d been in at least a century. He knew you’d look so pretty all sprawled out and clinging to him, reduced to a needy mess that couldn’t even remember her name.

The thought of you being tied up and helpless almost undid him as he leaned against the lamp post adjacent to your building entrance. Rafayel wondered what hues your pretty skin would turn once he unraveled you. Would your skin look mottled, an echoing pattern reminiscent of the foamy sea or would you simply flush a darker vermilion hue? How brilliantly those colors might translate to a canvas once he was done using your body as one.

Feeling inspired, Rafayel continues to wait outside of your building, casually soaking in the waning sunlight and waiting to catch glimpses of you inside your apartment. For a while, he admires the way you set up your canvas on the balcony, preparing your paints with practiced ease before you finally sit down to stare out at the sea.

He couldn’t clearly make out your expression from where he stood on the street, but the very fact you seemed to long for the same sea as he did made him want you with a sudden aching desperation. Rafayel had to have you. His mind made up, he saunters across the street, whistling a soft tune.

There was no other way for this to end now.

#no beta please don't bully me #rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #lnds rafayel #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel l&ds #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfiction #fanfiction #rafayel fanfiction #rafayel fanfic #rafayel fic #loveanddeepspace #rafayel drabble

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temnurus · 7 months ago

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LWJ POV Fic Recs

I've done a WWX rec list, so I thought it was about time I made one for Lan Zhan, whom I adore & can never get enough of. The fact that we couldn't see into his head during canon will forever drive me mad, & if this bothers you as much as it does me, boy do I have good news for you! There are not one but two series re-writes from LWJ's POV in this list for your reading pleasure, along with 8 other not-quite-so canon compliant fics that are nevertheless out of this world good. Not gonna lie, people, several of these would make my top 20 if I redid my favorites list today, so I wish you some very happy reading. 😉

he comes in colors by ilip13 (M, 63,596)

Thoughts: The prose was absolutely gorgeous. I loved the author’s writing style, & the way they portrayed how Lan Zhan viewed the world was breathtakingly beautiful. I appreciated the nod in the author’s note about him possibly being read as neurodivergent because I picked up on that, & it felt both familiar & comforting in an I’m-not-so-alone-after-all way. I outright sobbed at some points due to the intensity of the emotions, both Lan Zhan’s & others’.

Wei Ying’s care & consideration for Lan Zhan was very gratifying & lovely to see. The depiction of grief was deeply moving, & the dynamics between all the characters in the story were rich, deep, & very meaningful. This is a new favorite of mine, & I couldn’t stop thinking about it for days after I finished. Fic hangover is very much a possibility with this one, but it will be 100% worth it; I promise you that.

paint smears on sunny days by SnowshadowAO3 (E, 53,808)

Thoughts: Barely anything hurt in this. Like, you could blink past a minimal amount of anxiety. It was mostly an adorable kid fic in which Lan Zhan very quickly found himself falling for his son’s art teacher. Wei Ying being so desperate to spend more time with both of them was heart-meltingly cute, & I loved how he just slotted so easily into their lives it was like he could’ve been there all along. If you like domesticity & gratuitous fluff, then I urge you to give this one a go. I was thoroughly charmed & added it to my favorites list immediately.

The Price of Old Wishes by SoManyJacks (E, 67,793)

Thoughts: This was absolutely fantastic. I crave Lan Zhan POVs, & a fic that was basically canon from his perspective was very much on my wish list. I was so excited when I found it, & I devoured it in a day. The tags that serve as trigger warnings are all referring to events in canon, so there’s not really much that’s going to be a surprise in that respect. If you handled canon, then I think you’d probably be fine to read this fic. I loved the explanation for Lan Zhan’s difficulty with words being selective mutism. It’s the second fic I’ve read with that idea, & I’ve loved both of them. I highly recommend this. It’s definitely been added to my favorites list.

leave all your love and your longing behind by ScarlettStorm (E, 143,609)

Thoughts: This was one of the best modern AUs for Wangxian I’ve ever read. It hooked me from the very beginning, & I absolutely melted at how sweet & caring Lan Zhan was when Wei Ying invaded his house in a panic while trying to escape from the dog that was chasing him. His cat Bunny (so cute) was a love muffin & such a comfort in the moment. The dynamics between the neighborhood help squad Lan Zhan contacted to assist with the dog & its overwhelmed owners were also incredibly heartwarming. This fic expanded beyond a love story into a lesson on the importance of community & treating each other with kindness. I can’t recommend this highly enough. I already know it’s going to be a consistent reread for me. It really is just that good.

When the Lights Come Up by brooklinegirl (E, 50,012) Thoughts: This is more Notting Hill inspired/adjacent than strictly following that story, for which I was actually quite grateful, as there were parts of Notting Hill I wouldn’t have cared for or felt fit Wangxian’s dynamic. I loved Lan Zhan’s characterization in this so, so much. Actually, I enjoyed pretty much everyone’s characterization, even down to side characters like Lan Huan & Nie Huaisang. Wangxian’s chemistry in this was spectacular, & the yearning was FELT. I got so anxious & heartbroken during the angsty bits, but as always, brooklinegirl delivered on that happy ending with aplomb. As someone with ADHD, I lamented the lack of chapters for good stopping places, but this is a minor personal quibble & by no means takes away from the overall brilliance of the work.

Where You Fell by Sweet_William (E, 303,010)

Thoughts: The angst was REAL in this fic, y’all. The intensity of Lan Zhan’s feelings is one of my favorite things about him, & that aspect of his character was fully realized here. I cried like a baby several times in this fic. I probably lost count, to be honest. Wei Ying being homeless & begrudgingly allowing Lan Zhan to help him in small ways at first nearly broke my heart, & then it absolutely shattered into a million pieces when the story hit peak angst later on. Tissues were a necessity, but I promise you that it was all worth it in the end. The slow burn was fantastic & so, so satisfying when they finally got their happy ending. They certainly deserved it. It was very overdue!

to hold the wind by androids_fighting93 (E, 62,474)

Thoughts: I was very excited to read another Wangxian soulmates AU, & this one was particularly interesting with the execution. The first time soulmates touched they remembered a scene from their past lives together. This of course offered a wealth of opportunity for angst with the quality of the memories Wangxian would have of theirs, & it delivered exactly that.

The slow burn was torture, & I cried at a couple of different points, particularly at Lan Zhan stifling his own feelings in order to respect Wei Ying’s boundaries regarding not wanting to remember. This fic also made me incandescently angry at Jiang Fengmian & Madam Yu for being such shitty foster parents & utterly failing Wei Ying (not that it was a new feeling, heh). He got his happy ending eventually, thank fuck, because we all know I couldn’t possibly accept anything less.

And He Knew Those Silver Eyes Were Trouble by PieceofLove (E, 311,140)

Thoughts: This is basically a series rewrite of The Untamed from Lan Zhan’s POV, though the author does mix book canon in as well, like the Phoenix Mountain kiss, etc. It’s the second I’ve read, though much longer than the first & not quite as well written but only because the bar was set so high by the first! I very much enjoyed this fic. I binged it within a few days, & that’s not bad for a little over 300k. The author clearly adored Lan Zhan (as they should), so it was fun to get their take on his side of the story. I’d absolutely recommend it as worth reading, even if I still like The Price of Old Wishes best of all the Lan Zhan POV rewrites of the series I've read so far.

Adventures in Pet Sitting by raitala (E, 63,003)

Thoughts: Wei Ying was a surprise extra roommate for Lan Zhan when he showed up to his brother’s apartment to pet sit. This was the first fic I’ve read that featured Lan Zhan as the one who was under the misapprehension that he was straight due compulsory heterosexuality. Usually I see Wei Ying placed in that position, so it was an interesting change of pace.

I loved how awkward things were at first & how it built up over time with the intense sexual tension between Lan Zhan & Wei Ying. One of my favorite scenes pre Lan Zhan’s self realization earned the light dom/sub tag, & I was very jealous of Wei Ying for the experience. That’s all I’ll say so that you can find out for yourself. Nie Huaisang was another highlight of the fic. I loved his meddling & the comic relief he provided amidst the Wangxian shenanigans.

varied my velocity by fantasiavii (E, 58,876)

Thoughts: I adored Lan Zhan in this. I have a soft spot for Lan Zhan POV fics, & this one was really well done. His characterization was just perfect. My heart went out to him for the shame he carried surrounding his sexuality. It made me cry at one point. I also really enjoyed the author’s dance background & how it came through in the fic with Lan Zhan’s love of ballet. The banter & intimate moments between Lan Zhan & Wei Ying as they got closer were absolutely fantastic. I really can’t rec this highly enough. It’s a new favorite.

*Edit: So I goofed & had to replace Scales & Arpeggios in this rec list because I forgot it was an alternating POV fic, not strictly Lan Zhan's. I do promise that the brooklinegirlfic is just as good. She's one of my very favorite Wangxian authors, after all.

#mdzs #the untamed #cql #wangxian #lan zhan #wei ying #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wangxian fic rec #Temnurus rec list #this one's for you lwj #bc we love a petty bitch #he's so funny y'all #i love him so much #we goofed but we fixed it!

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thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos · 3 months ago

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So on occasion I get these brain worms that won't leave me alone, so im going to tell you bc I feel like you'd appreciate this one. Also bc I feel like someone who might get asks for their personal hcs might like it when someone else gives theirs instead.

I feel like the Rise guys, even though they lived in the sewers and then an abandoned subway, would still take time to have proper hygiene, esp as they age and start getting into relationships with people.

Donnie gives me "designer adjacent cologne" vibes. Certainly nothing that's overwhelming or pungent. Just something with a "clean" subdued scent that would pair well with either formal attire (which I feel like he'd prefer since he has style) or just lazy day stuff. (Obligatory undercurrent of motor oil if you've caught him in the middle of a project)

Leo, in true disaster twin fashion, would kinda do the same as Don, but would like something a little more intricate and complicated in scent profile. Maybe something with wood notes, or a flirty floral when he's feeling saucy. Wears either on the reg, it's just the scent he lives in.

Mikey strikes me as the kinda guy who wouldn't mind actual cologne but would prefer simple stuff, like the old trick of putting a dab of vanilla extract on pulse points instead of scent. And since he works with food so often, not only would it be accessible all the time, but its also kinda sneaky and flirty in its own way. Like, oh you smell baked goods? Come closer, its just me baby~ Lmao

Raph is harder for me to picture. We've seen he's a bit touchy about his various "stinks" (hahaha), so I get the feeling he would just smell like fresh laundry and bar soap most of the time. Esp since he's likely hitting the weights and bench a lot. Gotta keep the b.o. down to a gentle roar. And personally, laundry and soap is the coziest of scents, so when you'd cuddle up to him it would pair well with one of his signature bear hugs ❤️

Hope you liked those! 😘

SMELLS !?!!!!?!?

I LIVE FOR THIS SHIT FUCK YES

I love thinking about what specific kind of scents the rise guys would wear because ✨yes✨ they would totally wear some sort of cologne

I loved reading this!!! You TOTALLY nailed them!! (not me squealing about Don and the motor oil bit)

Thank you for sharing nonnie!! Made my night!

Tagging @sophiacloud28 for her rise men thoughts 😈

#nonnie asks #*dusts off a chair* you’re welcome to sit down and share anytime #I can literally smell these and it’s making my brain go brrrr #rottmnt #I actually don’t get a lot of asks about my writing haha #but that’s probably because it’s mostly SMUT lmao

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darklydeliciousdesires · 11 months ago

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London Will Burn - Chapter Two.

Told you I wouldn't leave you waiting for long, besties! Thank you so much for all your engagement, it makes me so happy to read your enjoyment of the story. Well, here we go, then. Sexy times below! ;)

Previous chapters - One

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,207

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI.

The Wallace homestead. A gigantic townhouse standing statuesque in the centre of Richmond Upon Thames, Kew to be precise. It was most definitely a money address, and Rin expected no less. It stood tall, strong and foreboding, much like the family who resided there.

Thank goodness she was being taken within its walls as a welcome guest, she thought.

If only she realised the truth. She’d have run as far as she could have gotten away from the duplicitous man who took her hand and led her up the steps, into the house and up two floors to his bedroom.

“Wait here a moment,” he murmured, hands roaming her, lips pressing a kiss against her neck. “I need to tidy.”

Grasping his suit jacket, she pulled him nearer, purring softly as her fingertips trailed over his short, neat beard. God, he hadn’t even kissed her lips yet and she was in erotic overload. “I don’t mind mess.”

He straightened, hands clasping her face. “I do.” His mouth ghosted hers, rumbling a laugh when her tongue shot out to lick his cupid’s bow, reaching to smack her arse. “Patience.” He slid into his bedroom, closing the door with a soft click, the space immaculate as always. He detested anything being left out of place, but he needed a moment all the same.

Taking his phone out, he put it on silent, walking around to the side of the bed and placing it behind the lamp, pressing down on the large piece of Blu-Tac he’d previously placed there, keeping the phone in place once he’d set it to video and began the recording.

Only the camera lens remained poking out from behind the heavy silver lamp. She wouldn’t notice it if he kept that lamp off, switching the one on the adjacent bedside table on, illuminating the gloom of his bedroom. It was an uncharacteristically dull spring in London, thus not offering much in the way of bright daylight to brighten a room, and he wanted as much illumination as he could get. The video had to be clear.

Returning to the door, he pulled it open, greeting her with the kind of look that could easily buckle a set of knees, Rin still feeling the tumult of excited energy zapping through her. ‘Oh god, I’m about to have sex with Sean, oh bloody hell is this really happening to me?’ she thought. It had been so fast paced, even for someone as upfront as her.

When they both knew exactly what they wanted, why engage further in the lead up, though? Why waste time teasing it, when they could just enjoy instead?

She knew enjoyment was exactly what she would receive as his mouth met hers at last, the kiss soft to begin with before the heat began to rise, his beard prickling her lips as their tongues rolled together. Her hands moved to unknot his tie as he shrugged his jacket off, the dance of undress as slow waltz to begin with, until hunger dictated a greater need, Rin undoing all of two buttons upon his shirt before simply tearing it open.

His chest was gorgeous, wide and defined without being too chiselled, her hands touring the planes of his back as she pressed herself against him, moaning softly into his mouth. There was more finesse to the removal of her clothes, Sean savouring in the reveal. That didn’t mean the heat of need ceased to burn through him, though, the want within him spiralling. Just because his designs were not solely motivated by the need to fuck her did not mean he wouldn’t thoroughly enjoy the experience.

“God,” he breathed, pulling from her mouth and standing back to look at her once his deft fingers had removed the black lace underwear. “Now there’s beauty.”

She smiled, hands tugging down his trousers and boxers, Sean stepping from them and straightening once more as she grasped his cock, her eyes flitting down. “And there’s one hell of a thick cock. Wow. I bet it feels even better than it looks.”

He pushed her back on the bed, smirking with satisfaction, beginning to peel down her long, black socks. “I’ve been assured many times that it does.” With her lying spread and bare before him, her folds already glistened with wetness, the urge to simply sink himself balls deep into her was a hard temptation to fight, bringing his thumb to her slit and mouth to her inner thigh.

Hot kisses peppered her skin, Rin biting her lip with a little hum as she felt him spreading the petals of her sex, his thumb stroking through her wet, looking up to see the anticipation dancing in her eyes. All he had to do was move that thumb a fraction upwards and it’d be skimming her clit, but devilish as he was, he left her waiting on it.

Keening against his touch, she could barely believe how wet he’d gotten her, just from his kisses while undressing her. The sting of arousal throbbed through her core, craving gratification, her need not sated any by his mouth drawing nearer, licking a hot swipe over the uppermost junction of her thigh. Squirming, she attempted to pull him closer, closing her thighs only to have him prise them back open with his elbows, turning his head to lay a bite against her thigh.

A single word followed his sharply delivered scold. “Patience.”

“I’ve never been very good at that.”

Moving back up her body, his tongue licked a long line from her navel to her neck, staring down at her with a soft frown. “If you don’t show it, I’ll only make you wait longer.”

Her lips tightened, grumbling in protest. “Tease.”

“I am,” he confirmed, head dipping to suck her nipple. “I’m also worth the wait.”

She didn’t doubt that for a second as he worked his way back over her skin with licks and kisses, amping her frustrations further by laying a kiss upon her pubic mound, tongue flickering, so very nearly catching her folds, his mouth then moving to her hip instead. Damn him.

His hands toured the slender, strong muscles of her thighs, borne of years in the saddle. He could only quietly imagine with much eagerness just how well she’d ride him. His tease was merciless, almost bringing his thumb where she needed it most, a tiny touch against her bud before descending to push lightly against her streaming opening.

He had her teetering on the edge of desperation just enough that when he finally did meet her folds with a long lick, the sound torn from her was almost primal. That first touch of wet heat gliding over her clit made her hips bounce, his hands holding her down, tongue dragging through her folds again and again until she virtually whimpered.

He knew exactly what he was doing. Oh, to finally have a guy between her legs who had more than just a vague clue over how to please a woman. Sean Wallace, as she would swiftly learn, had a fucking encyclopaedia of knowledge relating to all things sexual. The bud of her clit swelled hot against his tongue, each lick rolling slowly, smiling against her as her cries filled the room.

Yes. He knew well how good he was.

Burying his tongue into the hot honey of her gaping little hole, he tongue fucked her with zeal, nose nudging her bud, experiencing a little pinch of lament that this would be the only time he’d ever get to have her. “Just fucking enjoy fucking her for all she’s worth and remember the goal.” he thought, hands smoothing over her skin, grasping her breasts while returning his tongue to her clit.

As languid circles were replaced with fast flickers, Rin closed her eyes tight as the pleasure streaked up her spine, her head lost between the downy pillows, her fingernails trawling over his scalp. When he closed his full lips upon her and sucked, he sent her on a direct trajectory to the stars.

“Enjoying yourself, darling?”

She could see him grinning at her against the slick mess he’d licked her to, tongue once again rapid in motion. “Fucking hell, yes!” she cried, her groan almost strangulated at feeling two fingers slip in effortless glide into her heat. “You’re damned lucky I haven’t knotted my legs around your neck.”

He grunted a chuckle, deep and raspy. “I wouldn’t mind, just as long as you don’t asphyxiate me. I cannot deny I’d die a happy man with a mouthful of your pretty little cunt, though.”

She raised an eyebrow, sharply inhaling a breath when his fingertips pushed firmly into her g spot. “You need to dick me down thoroughly before I’ll let you expire.”

He emerged from between her legs, kissing his way up her body until he reached her mouth. “Oh that’s an absolute given. Minus the expiration.” Kissing her slow and dirty, his fingers remained nudging deep inside her, a low groan echoing in his throat when he felt her grasp his cock.

Her touch was much more proficient than he’d been expecting, screwing his eyes tightly shut and pulling from her mouth, burying his against the side of her neck. She left him bereft for a second, pausing to stroke her hand over the sodden mess of her sex, returning to slip a soft clutch over the head of his hardness.

He twitched against her, abs shuddering, firming further to each squeeze as he began to pant hard into the curve of her shoulder. When after wetting her fingers with a lick, her other hand joined it to circle over the tip of his cock, it was all he could do not to flatten her to the bed and pound the life out of her.

He would not lose control, though.

Those delicate swirls, coupled with her other hand working in slow, firm pumping strokes on his shaft sent his shudders right to his thighs. Oh, she was good. Too good, fire licking the pit of his groin as he began to sway into the clasp of her hand.

“Mmm, you want to be in me so badly right now, don’t you? Yeah, I bet it’s all you can think of, isn’t it, absolutely ruining me with your dick.”

With those words burning through his brain, the tentative grasp upon the control he sought not to lose slipped from his grasp, his hand reaching to yank open the bedside table drawer and pull out a condom.

“Oh, you’re going to get it now, little vixen,” he spoke, removing the thin tube of latex from its packet and beginning to roll it on.

Rin grabbed her legs at the ankle, bringing them down to rest either side of her head. “I’m ready.” Her splayed position and wide, mirthful grin was met by an aroused growl, Sean leaning to circle a lick at her nipple while nudging her opening in tease.

When he finally pushed forth and spread her around the thick of his cock, her exclamation was but a helpless little whimper, knocked sideways by the feel of her tingling walls being so widely parted. Oh, how she hoped this might become a regular thing. A cock that beautiful wouldn’t be forgotten in a hurry, especially since right from that first moment, he showed her just how well he could use what he had.

Her mouth dropped open in exclamation, staring up at him as she panted heavily, little darts of pleasure skipping over her nerves as he fucked her steadily. His mouth closed over her other nipple, sucking as his tongue beat across it, her hands moving to trail over his thick arms.

The way he fucked her... god. It went beyond simple in out, in out penetration. He hit her at every angle, every depth, shallowly breaching her one minute only to plunge fully into her the next. His body moved almost fluidly against hers, Rin running her hands up and down his arms as she met his downward movements with a little upward punt of her hips, pulling him to her, losing herself in a tangle of messy kisses as they panted against one another.

“You look even more beautiful, you know, when you’re being fucked mindless,” he rumbled, his voice gone to gravel entirely as he bit her lower lip with a hungry groan. Clasping her jaw in his grasp, he hit her deeper with a few more sharply delivered thrusts, the need to quicken taking over for a few moments, her wails making his pulse flip wildly before he brought himself under control again. “God, you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

He nuzzled her, kissing her again, Rin a little staggered by the praise he heaped upon her. Knowing Sean even only a little, she truly hadn’t thought him the type to be this complimentary. She wouldn’t class him as unfriendly at all, or even arrogant, but she’d always considered him maybe a little too wrapped up in himself to be so extolling of another.

And then there was the passion in him, which he lavished upon her amply, kissing her, his lips travelling to her neck, his deep groans, the way he stroked her all over as that slow rhythm gave way to something with more voracity. God, the man was addictive.

His thumb moved to her clit, skating back and forth over the slick little bud, her nails grazing his chest as she cried out. Pleasure so torrid she felt on the verge of tears; that was a definite sexual first for her, being fucked so magnificently, she felt like crying.

Sitting back on his heels, he pulled her legs up over his shoulders, beginning to pound into her cunt furiously, chasing the tingles of release he could feel beginning to glimmer within him, the coil of his arousal thrashing like an angry serpent.

Moving her legs, he reached for her, pulling her up with him, Rin feeling her bum cheek sting as he grasped them both in his big hands, spanking one hard. Bloody hell, it felt good, her body moving rhythmically against his as she ground herself down on every last inch of his fat cock. Her walls fluttered around him as the pressure increased, delicious friction scraping sparks right through her, burning to her very marrow and back.

He coaxed further groans from her, repeatedly spanking her as his teeth nipped gently at her neck, Rin grasping his thick shoulders as she rode him with gusto, her body moving like a wave against his, taking a handful of her blonde waves and fisting it at the roots, pulling her head back, his tongue sliding in a slow drag up her throat until they were sharing kisses full of filthy indulgence once more.

It was the kind of perfect sex she’d only ever fantasised before, never believing that any reality could ever live up to it, and certainly not with her pre to early teen crush.

Staring at one another, it was intensity unmatched, Sean feeling himself pulled in by her sharply, so strongly that he had to keep reminding himself that he wouldn’t let his emotions be swayed by her. One time, it would only ever be this moment he would enjoy with the magmatic young woman atop him.

He constantly reminded himself of that, but it was tricky, being at the mercy of such burning pleasure, given so effortlessly by the enchantment of her cunt, her kisses, her. She made him feel the first flourishes of a truly amazing sexual connection, but it could and would not be. For a few moments though, he let himself tumble, clutching her to him, groaning in utter abandon as he felt the pleasure surging up his spine.

It suddenly felt much too intimate for him to handle, cursing his own predisposition to be emotive. Gripping her waist, he hauled her off his thighs, turning her over and re-entering the hot clasp of her cunt from behind. Rather than let his thoughts overtake him, he instead focused on the end goal, two hundred million from a man who had been foolish enough to think he would stand being crossed, and not be able to extract himself from it on his own merit.

Looking over to where his phone was concealed, he smirked directly at the lens, grasping a handful of Rin’s hair and pulling her head back as he began to pound her mercilessly. He wanted Kevin’s stomach to turn, for fury to burn hot in the centre of his chest when he saw it, the video he would edit to shorter length and send to him along with his threat. Sean wanted him to feel nothing short of fucked over, watching the man who he’d attempt to fuck over, fucking his beloved daughter like a jackhammer.

His efforts had hot pulses darting through her, Rin crying out through each ragged pant, those frantic thrusts plunging her into a release that had glimmers sizzling over ever nerve, leaving her unmoored and drowning in ecstasy as he came moments after her.

Moving to the side of the bed, his chest still heaved heavily, pulling the condom off and knotting it, lying back with a satisfied huff as he reached to grasp her bum. “Well, that’s one way to spend an hour.”

She turned onto her back, smiling sultrily. “I can think of a few more ways too, if you’re interested in extending that hour?”

“Can’t,” he lamented, shaking his head as he stroked her knee. “I have a dinner meeting at six.”

“Oh.” She looked disappointed, but made no effort to protest, or outstay her welcome. Getting up off the bed, she began to dress, Sean feeling something soothed inside that she appeared to take it for what it was. Well, what she thought it was. He pulled his boxers on, a pair of jeans and a sweater, throwing his shirt and trousers into the laundry basket in his ensuite bathroom. By the time he was done, she was standing by the door.

Leaning to him, she kissed his lips, Sean encircling her in his arms, kissing her back with heat. “This was fun. I get it, though. One time thing, it’s alright.”

He nodded. “Glad you understand. And yes, I certainly shan’t forget it in a hurry.”

He didn’t either. Not after seeing her out, retrieving his phone and stopping the recording, or editing it to trim down to a smaller file with enough evidence on there to show her clearly. In fact, not even after his dinner engagement had finished at just coming up to nine that evening, either. Sex for Sean was a mere commodity, something he indulged in and paid little mind to afterwards, as simplistic in nature as one seeking a meal for sustenance.

Women rarely remained in his thoughts for long.

Rin had wedged herself so firmly into his consciousness that come 9:10pm that night, driving himself from the restaurant, he only successfully remained in his house for a grand total of ten minutes. His destination, after changing into black jeans and a simple, dark grey t shirt? Westminster.

It was only ever meant to happen once...

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