#my upper back is fucked up for whatever reason like really badly

[the-kipsabian]

my back hurts

[daisies-daydreams]

Hello hello. I’d like to request some Alejandro x F!Reader fluff where he makes her something homemade after she had a really rough day? 🥺 Ty!

Pairing: Alejandro Vargas x F!Reader Category: Fluff Warnings: Slight Angst, Toxic Work Environment/Verbally Abusive Boss, Swearing Word Count: 1,370

Author’s Note: Hi! Thank you very much for your request. My Spanish is pretty rusty, and I apologize for any mistakes (feel free to correct me). Also, I couldn't help but think of this song ("Mi Ancla") while writing this. I hope you enjoy!

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

You rubbed your eyes as you yawned, exhaustion seeping into your bones. You had just gotten home from a long day at work, sitting on your bed while you listened to the raindrops patter against your bedroom window. You cringed when you thought about today. Apparently, you made so many mistakes that your boss called you into his office. His harsh words still stung, venom seeping into your heart and leaving a bitter taste on your tongue.

"Are you fucking stupid? We've been over this several times."

"You can't do anything right"

"I've never had an employee make this many mistakes. Are you trying to make me look bad?"

Your nostrils flared as you released a heavy sigh. You desperately wanted to leave your job, but you didn't want to burden your boyfriend, Alejandro, with supporting you while you searched for a new one. Your fists clenched as hot tears stung your eyes. You wanted to kick and scream and punch your pillow, your frustration boiling inside of you like lava. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn't notice the front door closing. Suddenly, a pair of muscular arms suddenly wrapped around you. You squeaked before whipping your head around, your boyfriend’s warm features greeting you. His grin slipped when he saw heavy tears streaking down your face.

“¿Cariño?¿Qué te pasa?” Alejandro asked, his brows furrowed. You shook in his hold.

“Nothing,” you stated dully. He tilted his head down and gave you a knowing stare.

“(Y/N), you know you can tell me anything,” Alejandro said as he moved to sit by your side. Your bottom lip quivered before you released a pained wail. Your boyfriend was silent as he drew you in even closer. “Shh, estoy aquí,” he repeated softly, his hand coming around to stroke your frizzy hair. You sniffed and pulled back.

“I-I’m such a failure, Ale,” you sobbed. His face fell, shattered by your own words. “I can’t do anything right at my job,” you cried. Alejandro shook his head as his hands gripped your upper arms.

“Mi vida, you are far from a failure,” he assured you. Alejandro's face suddenly hardened, his eyes darkening. "Wait...was it your boss again?" he asked. You sniffed, eyes sinking to look at your lap. "Culero," Alejandro hissed through gritted teeth. His grip on you tightened as he held you close, as if to shield you from the events that occurred today. Your body trembled as he rocked you gently.

"I-I want to leave so badly," you confessed.

"You can leave, no one is going to stop you," he said innocently. You shook your head violently.

"I can't," you muttered. His brows knitted together.

“¿Por qué? Cariño, this job is making you miserable!" Alejandro said exasperatedly. You sniffled, your words caught in your throat. "(Y/N), it makes my heart ache to see you hurting this much. Whatever reason you have for staying, I'm sure its nothing compared to finding a much better job," Alejandro explained.

"I can't because I don't want to be a burden to you!" you suddenly snapped . You clasped your hands over your mouth. Alejandro leaned back, his brows raising and lips curved into a deep frown.

"A burden? Cariño, you never have to worry about being a burden to me," he cooed. You sobbed as he kissed the top of your head.

"I just...I don't want you to feel the pressure of me relying on you while I'm trying to find a new job," you sighed. He hummed.

"Even if it takes months for you to find another job, I will always be here for you," Alejandro murmured into your hair. You gripped his white shirt, as you soaked his shoulder with your tears. He placed a chaste kiss on the top of your head. “Te amo, (Y/N)," Alejandro whispered, his husky voice unwavering. You pulled your head up to look at him. A small, tired smile grew on your face.

“Gracias por todo, Ale. Yo también te amo,” you murmured. "Te amo, te amo..." you whispered like a tired, broken record. Both of you exchanged quiet glances before he leaned his head down. You sighed as he latched his lips onto yours. Alejandro was usually a very passionate lover, his words and actions always full of vigor. But now, all you felt was a soft, sweet tenderness as his lips caressed your own. You slowly closed your eyes as the rest of the world faded away with your kiss. Your head felt dizzy as he pulled away, a blissful eternity passing in a few seconds.

"Have you had dinner yet?" he asked. You nodded.

"I picked some up on the way home," you said. He hummed to himself.

“Me too. In that case, why don’t you take a shower? I can make us a little treat in the meantime,” Alejandro offered. You smiled.

“That sounds lovely,” you said. He exhaled through his nose, his hands squeezing your arms as he rose to his feet.

“Take your time, hermosa,” Alejandro said, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. You nodded before he slipped through the bedroom door.

***

You took the longest shower you've ever had in your life. The warm water was a welcoming sensation, calming each and every one of your tired and aching muscles. You slipped out of the bathroom and changed into some comfortable clothes. A savory smell of something being fried wafted in from the kitchen. You smiled when you walked into the open area of your apartment. Alejandro was humming along to a song while he busied himself at the stove. Alejandro turned when he heard you enter, flashing a wide grin.

“Hola, hermosa,” he whistled, his eyes scanning you up and down. You rolled your eyes as you came around to stand at his side. You rested a hand on your hip.

“So, what delicious treat have you prepared for me tonight, Chef Vargas?” you piqued as you eyed the pan on the stove. You gasped as he grabbed your hand, twirling you around suddenly. “Ale!” you squealed. He chuckled before pulling you to him, your body flush with his. Alejandro gazed down at you, his hands coming down to gently rest on your hips. Your eyes flicked up to him.

“Bailar conmigo, cariño,” he husked into your ear. You nodded slowly, allowing the music to take over you as you rested your head on his shoulder. The rhythm was slow, gentle and steady, just like the way he guided you through the kitchen. It was so relaxing, you could’ve fallen asleep in his arms right then and there. Alejandro kissed your temple as the music began to dissipate.

You smiled as he moved some of your wet hair from your face. Your heart fluttered as you locked eyes and kissed again, this time angling your head to capture his lips more deeply. Both of you remained in your embrace before the timer suddenly screeched. Alejandro groaned before turning back to the stove. He flicked the burner off and flipped the fresh sopapillas onto a paper-towel covered plate. Your mouth watered at the sight of the golden-brown pastries.

“Is that face for the sopapillas or for me?” Alejandro teased with a cocked brow. You slapped his arm playfully, both of you chuckling as he reached into the nearby cabinet. Alejandro pulled down two containers and dusted the sopapillas with powdered sugar, then cinnamon. You were one step ahead of him, grabbing the honey from another cabinet as he whipped around to you. "Muchas gracias," he smiled before drizzling the liquid over the warm pastries.

Alejandro took you by the hand, leading you over to the couch. You smiled as you snuggled next to him, happily taking one of the treats and savoring every bite that melted on your tongue. A small smirk made it's way across your face.

"¿Qué?" Alejandro laughed. You leaned over, pressing a kiss to where some powdered sugar and cinnamon dusted the side of his mouth. He froze, eyes trained on you as you licked your lips and giggled. Needless to say, you were soon bombarded with kisses sweeter than any sopapilla.

____

Thank you for reading!/¡Gracias por leer! ❤️

A/N: I'm kind of tempted to make a Part 2. 👀

____

Translations:

¿Cariño?¿Qué te pasa? - Honey? What’s wrong? Estoy aquí - I’m here. Mi vida - My life Culero - Asshole ¿Por qué? - Why? Mi amor - My love Sí - Yes Te amo - I love you. Gracias por todo, Ale. Yo también te amo - Thank you for everything, Ale. I love you, too. Hermosa - Gorgeous Hola, hermosa - Hello, gorgeous. Bailar conmigo, cariño - Dance with me, honey.

Muchas gracias - Thank you very much.

[gabessquishytum]

Hairy Hob is a blessing I never thought I needed. And this is coming from someone who was kind of meh on the whole body hair thing in sex stuff, it's fine if it's in it, but not my thing usually. Imagine my surprise when I end up going feral, not for someone like the Corinthian who honestly should be more my type, I end up going absolutely bonkers for Hob Gadling. Hob Gadling this absolute Honda Civic of a man, I love him.

Scent kink too, but I digress. More to the point, for someone like Hob, I figured he might be a bit insecure about his body hair when he and Dream first get together. Maybe he noticed one time how much arm hair he has compared to Dream, who took off his coat for some reason. So, the day comes when they finally plan to do the do, and Hob spends the entire morning and afternoon shaving his entire body, cause waxing will hurt too much XD. And then it's time, they're making out. Deam starts to touch his body while kissing and is progressively becoming more confused the more he touches Hob. Until Dream loses patience and rips his shirt to shreds to see his bare chest. And the horror on Dream's face XD, you'd think someone died or something, immediately ripping off Hob's pants and underwear, and he's bare everywhere of course. Dream looked him over twice, even going so far as to make Hob present himself, ie bending over and spreading himself.

Hob's face is beet red, his face is like a tomato, doesn't understand what the fuss is, he thought Dream might like him like this. But the mounting rage on the Dreamlord's face says otherwise. Dream is livid, and I wonder how he'll punish Hob for this. huehuehuehuehuehuehueheuhehuehue

-Love Yan Anon <3

yeSSSS love that my Hairy Hob propaganda is spreading <3 it's funny bc Hob IS so my type it's almost ridiculous. I think body hair really is A Thing for me (on whatever gender) and I can't explain it BUT. I can attempt to spread the gospel about it heehee.

LOVE the idea of Hob being insecure though omg!!! He's really overthinking everything and he's noticed that Dream is very,,, smooth. He's got the tiniest bit of upper lip stubble but aside from that, he's pretty hairless! And Hob is like, "I'm connecting the dots. He was all weird in 1589, when I had facial hair. Obviously he hates body hair and stuff." And Matthew is probably there like "you haven't connected shit my dude" but Hob is already convinced.

And he's a lil sad because ugh, he has a lot of hair, it's kinda part of him?? Also it takes a long time to shave??? But he'd do anything for Dream so. He spends a good 3 hours meticulously making sure he's smooth, even his butthole doesn't escape, it's a fucking nightmare but. Worth it. For Dream.

And yeah Dream is pissed off, ok. He's finally got Hob naked after 600 fucking years of lustful yearning (including a solid half an hour staring at his chest hair in 1689) and he just doesn't get it. But he's incapable of having a normal conversation about it so he pulls a very squirmy (and slightly itchy, fucking shaving burn??? Oww!!) Hob over his lap and demands an explanation.

Hob is humiliated and embarrassingly turned on about it, and he explains his thought process and Dream is just like. "Oh wow. I'm in love with an idiot." Which is objectively not an ideal moment for a love declaration but does clear up a lot of Hob’s self esteem issues.

But Dream is still committed to punishing his lover for his grave sins against all that lovely sexy body hair. He spends a good hour or two smacking Hob’s poor arse (with particular focus on his hole, which is already stinging sooo badly) and his cock. All his shaving implements are immediately banished too, and it's for Dream to decide when he gets his face shaving privileges back. In fact, maybe Dream decides that Hob needs a little more supervision overall. And maybe Hob is unreasonably turned on by the fact that Dream is in charge of his outfit for each day, and his meals, and most importantly, his bedtime <3

[wooshofficial]

hi woosh. hope i'm getting this right, here, new to tumblr. askgame: can you tell me about clayton legume new new york millennials. i like this guy, i have many a thought, but i want to see what your many a thought are too

HI KITE!!! You’re doing this right!!! And oooooo Clayton Legume Okok

23 and a blend of a bajillion different European ethnicities, but mainly Irish and Dutch

he/him but in a very Not Cis way. The only cis person on the mills is Jana and she gets away with it by being both the mean bisexual and the even meaner lesbian at the same time, Clayton is trans. He’s very casual about it.

Grew up on the Upper West Side, around 70th-95th street, where the money is aplenty and everyone sucks! This includes his parents, who saw the Shelled One as a beneficiary and a supporter of those of Higher Class, and thought the mills were a threat to their financial standing.

His parents are cult founders, basically, but because this sentiment was shared among other collateral across the immaterial plane, there’s multiple branches of this cult that have varying reasons for forming. This includes the LAi branch, who thinks that Peenit was meant to put LA back together. This branch is headed by Clayton’s aunt, who’s daughter is Piper Legume, but we’ll get to that later.

Anyways Clayton despises his fucking family. He hates how his family makes everything about money and looks down on the people just trying to survive and the kids who are learning about and rising against the hardships in the world (which he slowly becomes as he 1. figures out he’s trans 2. realizes he’s not going to be accepted by the world and 3. gets really upset about it). The minute he can he bolts outta there and doesn’t look back.

He goes to FIT on a partial scholarship and partly on money he yanked from his fund that his parents set up for him. He loves design and fashion and especially drag. He visits Lucky Changs frequently and meets people who push him towards the Villages, specifically the West Village (where there are a metric ton of gay bars) and keeps walking east from there because he can feel something pulling at his curiosity coming that from direction. He wants to explore what he was so sheltered from growing up so he follows what almost sounds like a voice

Fucking surprise it’s Loner Shelley. She’s been in the static and between universes for decades now and she wants out so badly because she refuses to let Blaseball take her life away from her, but doesn’t mind the fact that it gave her some weird connection to the different factions of the immaterial plane. So like she’s watching people fall and is getting frustrated and then suddenly she’s in proximity enough to someone who absolutely reeks of Peanut and Rebellion. And she sets a plan into motion.

Back to Clayton. He’s on a bit of a walk on the east side near Stuy Town when he comes across this apartment building. It’s a quaint little thing with ivy crawling up the worn down brick and warm light coming from a couple of the windows. Most of all it exudes this feeling of belonging and love that nothing else has given him before.

Surprise it’s the fucking Apartment. But actually it’s Loner Shelley working in tandem with the Apartment who is in on the plan because WHY NOT

Anyways Clayton is drawn to the place but is like “is this breaking and entering” when the door fucking swings open. The lobby is empty but still feels lived in and appreciated so he goes up the single elevator at the end of it

All the while he’s like “is this weird Blaseball shit. Is this the Shelled One finally coming to kill me for betraying my family what the fuck what the fuck”

So the elevator leads to another warm and lived in hallway with gray doors lining the walls, except for the door three spots down, which is painted a vibrant baby blue

By now Clayton has basically accepted whatever fate that awaits him because he’s too far in now. Doesn’t mean he’s not freaked out. In fact he was gonna see one of his friends perform at a club later that night and now he’s worried that this will stop him from seeing it. Yes his priorities are with his friends. He’s a sap have I mentioned he’s a sap and that the Apartment went along with the plan because he exuded such familial longing that it decided to adopt him on the spot

So he walks towards the door, hears some chattering from behind it, says “what the hell” and opens it.

Four things happen at once:

He walks in on a massive argument between Jana, Benny, Jon, Stan and Duffy over what happens now that they don’t have enough players on the roster to count as a full team

Asuka Guacamole crawls out of the living room TV for the first time

A cat with a piece of paper stuck to its face jumps through the window that was closed several seconds ago

Loner Shelley uses all her power and some from the Apartment to jump into Clayton’s body, promptly making him pass out

It doesn’t entirely work. Clayton still has 90% control of his body, Shelley only has the other 10%, and can only fully gain control of it if he allows her to. Clayton is currently thoroughly freaked out and sort of pissed about the universal plan that only happened because he can’t be rid of his family so he vetos that idea and now she’s just kinda living in his head

Clayton plural momence

Benny realizes, as the guy who keeps up with the team admin shit the most, that Clayton, Asuka, Malin (who showed up earlier) and Alejandro (the cat) are now part of the mills roster, to which all four go im sorry???

But dems da rules man and Benny shows them to the four rooms that the Apartment just made. Play begins a couple weeks later, so Clayton has time to get to know people and also the perpetually tired reporter living in his head and making him lethargic.

The thing about Clayton and Shelley’s like. Situation is that their personalities end up sort of merging and reflecting off each other. Shelley’s monotone speaking and general apathy towards everything morphs into Clayton’s body developing narcolepsy. But on the other hand, Clayton’s passion and drive mixed with Shelley’s athleticism makes him a pretty decent Blaseball player. They balance each other out and end up kinda getting along. They’re not the best of friends but they stopped arguing every 20 minutes!

So that’s how things are until word reaches LAi about a player on the mills with the last name Legume, but that’s going in a reblog because this is long enough already

[scarlet-letter-s-for-soft]

I thought like this when I was younger, and I still hear it constantly in dating/self-help advice videos. I don't mean to imply this concept is immature by any means; we're all allowed to set our own boundaries and decide what we want in our relationships (of all kinds). "A boundary is the distance I can love you and me at the same time" has so much truth to it. Sometimes that boundary is at the edge of an un-crossable chasm and two people just aren't good for each other. But the older I get, the more I think we all do ourselves a disservice when we take such a hard line with cutting people off. Here's a few things I've learned along the way:

People show love in different ways and if you never talk to them about how they give and recieve love, you might assume they're giving nothing back to you. Love languages as a framework isn't wildly helpful, but the overall idea is. I thought for most of my life that my dad didn't love me, that I was wrong or too needy or too much somehow. I'm emotional and receive love in words and my stiff upper lip British father showed it in actions. Picking me up at all hours from the airport or from a party that got scary with zero judgement. Getting me Gatorade and Pepto Bismol and making me milkshakes when I was sick. Always answering my stressed or sad text messages with "love, support, and understanding" because I told him I needed ... love, support, and understanding. He was trying. He was showing me love in his way and did his best to adapt to mine. And I'm so glad we talked about it long before he passed or I would have gone the rest of my life assuming he didn’t care about me how I cared about him.

We all go through seasons of life where we just can't fucking show up. No matter how badly we want to. We get sick. We get injured. We get fired or laid off. We have to become a caretaker for a child or a family member. We're having a really shitty mental health day or week or month or year. We have chronic illnesses flare up. We have ADHD and sometimes forget to plan things or message people back for a long time. We’re tapped in a capitalist hellscape. Etc. Or on the other side - we get our dream job. We fall in love. We travel or move somewhere we've always wanted to. We have babies and adopt pets and find communities to belong to. We finally get back into that creative hobby we've been waiting to have the energy for again. Sometimes you just can't, for whatever reason. And in building relationships that last years and years, you learn very quickly that they're going to go through all kinds of cycles of change. So are you. Communication is key, obviously. But we all do that differently, too. It's always worth it to be vulnerable and reach out and see where the disconnect is.

When you enforce such rigid standards for the people in your life, you unknowingly enforce those same standards with yourself. It's a sword that cuts both ways. If you think loving someone means showing up regardless of the harm it causes you, then you're going to be really hard on yourself when you don't have the energy to show up like that. "I'll take care of me for you and you take care of you for me" feels really unnatural when you're raised as a people-pleaser. But it's crucial to know how to self-soothe, how to put your oxygen mask on first. How to question (lovingly) your expectations of others and to ask if they're fair. How to recognize your beliefs around love and relationships and check if having 'high standards' is a way to reinforce those beliefs when real, messy humans fail to meet impossible standards. We're told that true friends and lovers will show up for you no matter what. But the true friends and lovers are the people willing to try, willing to be honest, and willing to show up even at their lowest. Patience, kindness, and empathy aren't weaknesses. You aren't disrespecting yourself by asking for what you need, talking with the people in your life about how you can best show up for each other, and forgiving when either of you inevitably mess up.

We all deserve healthy, loving, and supportive relationships. Growing up I thought it would be as simple as “if they wanted to, they would.” But life ain’t that simple and we’re all doing our best.

Get used to the messy discomfort of building something real and long-lasting rather than clinging to the idea of what a perfect relationship looks like.

Create room in your relationships for life to happen and for humans to be human. They last longer and you'll find a lot more peace and happiness along the way. 💕

Normalize seeing someone's lack of effort as their lack of interest in you regardless of what they tell you. Giving you all of the right words, but none of the right actions is called manipulation. If a person wants to be with you, they prove it. Period.

[gallickingun]

How do you think Tama would react if you begged him to cum inside you while you were having sex? I just want our sweet elf boy to give me a nice creampie

cw: breeding kink, oral (m. receiving), praise, bit o’ dacryphilia!

His thumb is soft against your lower lip, watching with his own unhinged jaw as you bob your head up and down on his cock, the tip nudging your tongue until you are able to take him further, until your throat is tensing up around the thick shaft and you’re drooling down your chin. He swallows, a shininess in his eyes that he gets every time you beg to please him, every time you drop to your knees to prove to him that he’s worth a thousand stars.

“You’re so pretty,” and he doesn’t even mean to say it, not really. Tamaki’s voice is barely above a whisper, and his tongue parts his mouth so he can lick up and over the bow of his upper lip. An exhale shudders his shoulders and his free hand rubs your neck in a soothing motion, and for some reason he wants to kiss you so badly that he can’t see straight.

Or maybe that’s just a biproduct of your pretty mouth suckling all the way to the base of him.

Tamaki’s irises are hidden from you now, his lids unable to stutter open any longer, the further you take him, the more saliva that pools around the base of him until it drips from his balls to the floor. He moans, high and whiney, and his head drops back against the wall behind him, “Baby, ‘m gonna come if you keep that up.”

The thought of being able to taste him is divine, but your thighs throb with the need for something more. You swallow the pool of drool and pre that sits heavy on your tongue, and sit back on your thighs so you can look him in the eyes, seeking out those sweet, darkened irises with a gentle squeeze of his thigh under your petite grip, “T-Tama?”

You’ve wanted this for a while, wanted to beg and plead and cry until he gives it to you, but Tamaki swore he’d go slow, savor every piece of you until you’re tired and then, he’ll do it all over again. But, still, there is something missing. Your eyes are drawn momentarily to the shiny packages littered across your nightstand, taunting you silently, quietly mocking your every movement. You’ve purposefully bruised both of your knees tonight, with the hope that you can draw out such a long, heady arousal from him that it would leak out of you — but not your mouth, not this time.

“Yeah?” he’s trying his hardest not to stutter, you can tell. Your thumb runs over his knee and then you’re cupping your hands along his calves, anchoring yourself to the floor so you don’t float away with how effervescent his gaze makes you feel. You’re squirming on the floor now, the heels of your feet dug into your ass to give yourself some sort of harsh reminder that you need to get this question out of the way, that it will bother you until you know his answer.

You bite your lower lip to bring yourself back to reality and the sentence is slurred, but at least you’ve propelled it from your lips this time, “W-Will you come in me?”

His hips stutter to a stop and you’re worried you’ve run him off. You lick your lips and massage your thumbs in circles against his ankles, drifting palms headed north to administer the same affections to his thighs. Tamaki inhales in a shudder, and his thick fingers slide along your neck until he’s near gripping you at the shoulders, like he might push you further down until the floor swallows you whole. His thumb traces your jawline until he reaches your lower lip, and he cannot stop himself as he runs the pad of his fingerprint against the swell of your lower lip.

“Y-You mean it?” he is hesitant, and you could cry at the sound of his voice breaking the silence. Your mouth laps at the spittle and start of his orgasm that beads against his cockhead, pearlescent and pretty along the purpled tip. A nod has your mind boggling, and all you want is to let him drown you in whatever he’s willing to give you, just to taste him in your womb instead of your throat.

Tamaki guides you to your feet, fingers circled around your wrists to hold you closely, “Angel, I need to know—“

“Yes, I mean it,” your voice is firm and your gaze is direct enough to match. With a gusto you did not have moments prior, you reach out to hold his shaft in your hand, swiveling your palm up and down the length of him so the head disappears in your grasp and he’s already moaning on your first pass. He bucks his hips but then thinks twice, holding you by the hips and angling his pelvis backward so he does not move again, “I-I’m close, c-can’t keep goin’ like this.”

You are a mess when you take another step forward and practically beg him with your words and your gaze, “Then fuck me, ‘jiki. Want to feel you, all of you, inside of me, please!”

Unsure of where your words incited the riot that is his next movements, you allow him to take you along for the ride. Tamaki guides you to the bed and settles between your thighs, wanting to watch the way you fall apart beneath him as he spears you on the thick of his cock and he milks the sticky translucent arousal from between your precious, velveteen folds. He’s slow and deliberate with each thrust, savoring the way your plush warmth steals the very breath from his lungs, sucking him in like it might be the last stroke you ever feel. His palms are tucked under your knees, using the leverage of this position to hold you near folded in half, something you might complain about if it weren’t for the fucked out expression slackening his features.

“Ah, I’m, ‘m cl-close, angel,” he whimpers, and you’re surprised he’s managed this long. You feel a haze cloud your vision and you know it’s the tears that always fall when he fucks you raw on his cock. He’s so thick and deliberate, and you find yourself lost in every bit of him no matter how he takes you. Tamaki’s hips slam into your ass and it stings, and you’re sure that there will be a plethora of reminders of this evening in the form of blistering purple bruises along the curve of your ass.

“Please, Tama’,” you are wanton and uncaring in the desperation to your tone. You buck into him, meeting him more than halfway, the promise of his seed driving you to a new level of hungry. Tears seep down your cheeks and he releases one leg in favor of throwing it over his shoulder, just so he can brush his thumb over the curve of your face, collecting the saltine droplet on his fingertip. You open your mouth in beckoning for his finger, and he obliges you with little question, nothing but adoration and awe in his eyes as he watches your lips mold around his thick digit, suckling and licking at the knuckles.

Tamaki rolls his lips and then his hips and he gasps for breath, “Tell me, love, tell me what you want from me, please, I need you to—“

It is the only encouragement you need to beg for his cock, his come, to tell him that it’s the only thing left to complete you. There is a hole carved out in your innermost parts, and it’s created just for him. You are a desolate wasteland without the depths of his affections, and the weight of his cock between your thighs is but one facet to the gem of your relationship. Your nails are relentless against his back and shoulders, clawing at him like he might be taken from you if you were to let him go. Tamaki indulges you to the fullest, not a single complaint from his full lips as he bucks into you with a sheer force that rivals even the most brutish of men.

“R-Right there,” he murmurs, seemingly to himself, “g-gonna stuff you full, angel, gonna give you all my come until it’s pouring out of you, is that what you want?”

You’re incapable of speech at this point, too fucked out to do much other than listen and receive. Luckily for you both, you’re receptive enough for a thousand lifetimes, eyes widening and mouth parted in a silent begging as you tighten your thighs and cant your hips in time with his rhythm. The pleadings you’re able to muster are little more than musings, incomplete sentences and half-syllables, but he has been with you long enough to know what you mean.

Tamaki seems to put it all together on his last stroke, eyes widening as he falls forward, hips stuttering with aborted, untimely shifts until you feel the warmth inside of you duplicate tenfold, his cock twitching until he’s spent himself dry. Still, Tamaki moves like he might get started up again, half-hard cock still nestled into the sticky heat of your cunt, watching as the milky slick coats his cock in a ring, collecting when he pulls himself out only to stuff you full all over again. You wonder for a moment if he’s doing this with the knowledge that he’s fucking deeper into your womb with each roll of his hips, but you don’t have the wherewithal to ask.

“So pretty,” his words are but a distant echo of earlier, and this time the meaning is increasingly more lewd than it was when he was merely watching you take his cock deeper and deeper into your throat. Now, with the pulsating thick of his shaft finding purchase in the plush of your cunt, his words carry more weight, and this time you know he’s referencing the way your folds coat him in slick, not leaving an inch of him insatiable for your come. He is coated in it, drenched in the mixture of you both, and immediately, the desire to repeat the action stirs his cock from the depths of your body.

“No, you,” you giggle, framing his face with your hands so you can bring him forward for a kiss, “you’re always so pretty, ‘specially when you come.”

Tamaki turns so his cheek is pressed to yours, hoping you didn’t see the lustful darkening of his amethyst irises before he responds, “Wanna see me get downright gorgeous?”

A giggle is shared between the two of you, along with another round of your begging and pleading to be stuffed to the brim, and who is Tamaki to deny you of something when you ask so sweetly?

[nugatorysheep]

「 ♤ WELCOME TO HELL!! ♤」

Hi! I'm Nugget/Ezra and I like to draw things sometimes, nice to meet you :D This is my main blog where I share my thoughts and my art. For blogs that block minors I'm an adult, and if for some reason you need an exact number that damn badly it's on my Twitter (That you should totally go follow).

My sharing side blog is @nuggets-showcase. (Nsfw blog you'll have to message me for).

This is my LinkTree!! If you need to find something (comics, stories, commissions) it's probably here!!

This is my Twitter and I am much more active there than I am here. Maybe if I get more interaction on this blog I'll consider posting here more but until then Twitter and Discord are my main places to post.

Gender is a mess so currently I use any pronouns, but put some effort into actually switching it up. If that's too hard then [they/them] is more than fine.

《|| Tagging policy here ||》

I'm into a ton of different things, including but not limited to: The Owl House, Steven Universe, Star Trek (specially Voyager but I love TNG too), Spyro, Ratchet and Clank, Pokémon, Rick and Morty, ATLA/LOK, and Magic: The Gathering. Currently MTG and SU are the things eating my brain alive right now but I really wanna branch out, so if you make or share content for anything listed above then don't be scared to @ me so I can give you a follow.

I'm neurodivergent af and royally screwed in the memory department so don't feel too offended if you try to ask or tell me something and I've got no clue what the hell you're going on about. Just give me a gentle reminder.

I don't have a DNI. People who often end up on lists like those also do not give a rat's ass about respecting them, so as long as you're chill in my blogspace then I don't really care what you do in yours. I do bite but only if you bite first... so I guess, to be more accurate, I bite back. Don't test me.

That being said: Do not mistake me not having a DNI list as support for whatever stupid and/or fucked up bullshit you're into. This blog is my safe space, not yours, and I'm not gonna actively defend or protect you for being fucking gross or shitty, and I'm not going to censor myself to make you comfortable. If that's a problem for you then the back button is in the upper left corner.

That's all for now! Have fun looking around I guess :P

[burningtacozombie]

“Whatchu mean, she ain’t your girl? Bro, you got that grade of hottie in yo’ crib and you ain’t tappin’ it? Pfft, what’s wrong with you? Crazy assed fuckboy.” 

this guy just doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up. I want to like Guero’s neighbor, I’m really trying but man he’s gotta meet me halfway. Tyrone’s not making it easy.

Little did she know that they’d remained in boxes for a reason, Guero not able to face removing them all, being reminded of memories from his childhood. He sorely missed those days, his dad cranking out Motley Crue, Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath and Soundgarden, to name but four of Ibarra’s favourites, all at window rattling decibels.

aww, we need more memories of baby Guero and his dad. going through your dad’s things is painful babe and sometimes you need someone else’s to do it for you, I get that.

He was confused at how badly she’d misunderstood his surprise. “Woah, it’s alright. I’m not mad, blue eyes.” Moving to her, her crouched, resting a hand to her back. The muscles beneath his touch immediately knotted in tension. “It’s okay, I just... I didn’t expect all of this. It’s not your job to clean my mess, but I gotta say I appreciate it.” [...]

The stammers again. It pinched at his chest, to see and hear her so unravelled, wondering even more just what the hell kind of situation she’d fled to crumble like that so quickly. He hadn’t even raised his voice. Hell, he hadn’t even been angry in the slightest, yet she’d read his surprise as negative.

of course he’s surprised to come back into a clean home. that poor girl, she’s definitely been through hell and back and having a reaction like that does make one wonder how truly awful it was. whatever it was baby girl, you’re safe with Guero. he’s not going to hurt you.

When she turned, she almost dropped the dish she was placing onto the counter. Oh, hell. He had the kind of physique that came from dedication to the gym, a lean waist, ripped abs and a thick chest, the mass of his upper arms and shoulders perhaps the most impressive where bulk was considered. She’d also never seen anyone with that kind of tattoo coverage before either. What was more, she liked it. [...]

Of course, he’d noticed her taking a moment to check him out, and usually he’d have been playful in response to that, him and his big mouth engaging in a little flirtation. He spared her, though, thinking it was adorable how furiously she blushed. “Yeah, I’m a walking canvas at this point. Anyway, won’t be long.”

ha, anyone would have that reaction at seeing him shirtless for the first time and discovering that sexy canvas. I literally choked on my own spit when I saw him shirtless for the first time, lmao. he’s fucking gorgeous and no amount of trauma can overwrite that. <3 however I’m glad he didn’t make a big deal of her reaction.

His lips thinned in thought, considering his options. “Emma, are we about to get into a whole heap of shit for harbouring a mafia boss’s wife? You haven’t told me much, but that’s kinda what I’m assuming, that you got into that shipping container cuz’ you needed to vanish from a bad marriage without a trace, rather than heading to the airport. I dunno, or were you his...” he trailed off, snapping his fingers. “What do they call ‘em, the woman on the side? The goomada?”

here we go, the important questions coming up. I was wondering when they would actually start talking and when he would get her to open up. at least a little bit. 

For her comfort, he left it, watching her begin to relax her drawn up shoulders as he started to talk about his life. “Okay, I’ll start at the beginning. I was born Guero Ramiro Ortiz on December twentieth, nineteen ninety-three. Interestingly, Guero wasn’t supposed to be my name at all. Dad started calling me that from the moment I was born, because I was light skinned like him. That’s what the word means, basically. Kinda more nickname than anything else. They liked it and it stuck, though. I like it better than being called Hector, as my mom wanted to call me, after her father.

when I say I squeaked, not you GIVING HIM MY BIRTHDAY!!! OMG BLESS YOUR SOUL! and he’d still be hot as a Hector, lmao.

His lips pressed a kiss to her forehead, her heart somersaulting in her chest at such a gesture. Forehead kisses from a man. They were alien to her entirely, but how sweet to be treated to one. 

forehead kisses are wildly underrated, and I want one from him too! <3 

Just then, his phone began to ring, pulling it from his pocket. “Speak of the devil.” Sipping his beer, he answered after a pause. “’Sup, Mr Magoo?”

[...]

“What did he lose?”

“The damned van keys! Told him, put ‘em behind the bar or straight in Hank’s hand, but no. You’d think with how thick his fucking glasses are, he’d never lose anything. Fucking Amsco window face!”

:D I love him so fucking much, oh my god. :D 

Seeing her face lit up, it made his heart skip on a beat. It’d been a while since he’d experienced that. “It’s nice, seeing you relax more.”

Nodding, she looked down at Axl for a moment, her lashes fluttery when her eyes found his. “That’s because of you. Thanks for being my safe person.”

[...]

“Glad I can be, blue eyes.” He winked, and it sent her insides into a fizz, once again beginning to chew at her thumb.

aww, they’re already so down for each other, sparks are flying. love to see it. <3 <3

He undressed to his boxers and climbed in, making sure he didn’t invade her space, Emma removing her sweats and placing them on the floor.  

“Fair warning, I’m told I snore loudly,” he spoke quietly, fluffing the pillows.

“Yeah, so do I. Full on mouth breathing and hissing,” she revealed, making him chuckle quietly. “G’night, Guero.”

they both snore, that’s a match made in heaven xD

 “I h-had a nightmare,” she panted, Guero tightening his arms around her, pulling her onto his lap.  

“Yeah, I guessed.” He waited until she calmed, feeling her breathing begin to steady, her trembles subsiding. “Look, I know you don’t wanna talk about whatever it is you ran from, but I kinda think you might have to. I think you need help, Emma. This shit, it isn’t normal, or good for you.”

he’s right baby girl, you need help. and it might need more help than Guero can give you. the only way out is through, as painful as that is.

She lay curled against him, face buried against his neck, her breathing speeding and then slowing, her muscles tensing and slackening again as she wrestled with whatever it was up in her head that was terrifying her.

[...]

While she settled into sleep, Guero lay awake for a time, beginning to worry about her going out into the world without dealing with her past. The way she remained clung onto him in those dead of night hours was telling, though. He doubted that any place where he wasn’t was a viable option in her terrified mind.

babe you’re her safe person, she said so herself. she’s not ready for the outside world and even if she was, she wouldn’t explore any of it without you. you didn’t know what you signed up for but you’ve done great this far, you can get her through this and hopefully at the other side of it happiness is waiting for both of you. <3

Lost & Found - Chapter Six

Guys! I'm sorry this is a few hours late! I threw myself into getting everything done early this morning so I can relax for the rest of the day, but here you go, update is here! I'm so pleased you're all enjoying it, thanks for the lovely feedback you've been kind enough to leave. I truly appreciate it :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five

Words - 3,572

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse in the coming chapters.

Even under the darkness of nightfall, the difference was stark. Riding onto his driveway at just gone 11pm, Guero killed the engine, climbing from his bike and removing his helmet, eyes widening at the front yard. The grass was immaculately mown and raked, the border edged, the tree trimmed, and path swept. Although he had all the necessary tools to do it, he’d only bothered twice since arriving.  

“Hey, fuckboy!” A flurry of curtains revealed Tyrone, chomping uncouthly upon a candy bar of some description as he stuck his head from the window. “You better get in there and give that fine assed girl of yours a damned good dickin’ in thanks. She been out there all afternoon, breakin’ her back!” 

“She ain’t my girl, homes,” he called back, still a little stunned at how good it all looked.  

“Whatchu mean, she ain’t your girl? Bro, you got that grade of hottie in yo’ crib and you ain’t tappin’ it? Pfft, what’s wrong with you? Crazy assed fuckboy.”  

“Later, Tyrone.” he called, letting himself into the house. Inside, his surprise only grew more, the immediate smell of freshness hitting him. Everything was pristinely clean, everywhere tidy, his eyes scanning further at the details. So that was what colour his tan couch was, beneath the ground in dust and dirt. Fuck, the leather sheened once more, and his carpet! It was actually fluffy again.  

Back when he’d moved in, he’d bought some storage baskets that had remained in their packaging, Guero having every intention to actually fill them, but never getting to it. Not only had she filled them but added a neatly written label to each.  

He had labels?! 

“Magazines, bits and pieces, dog toys.” He spoke, smiling, his eyes then taking in something he wasn’t expecting to see across the room; all of his dad’s vinyl collection and record player placed out on the unit, the hundreds of classic and modern rock albums, all catalogued alphabetically. Everything was organised, and beautifully so.  

Little did she know that they’d remained in boxes for a reason, Guero not able to face removing them all, being reminded of memories from his childhood. He sorely missed those days, his dad cranking out Motley Crue, Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath and Soundgarden, to name but four of Ibarra’s favourites, all at window rattling decibels. 

“Emma? Where you at?” he called, the bathroom door suddenly opening, the fresh smells of disinfectant and bleach hitting his nose, Emma in a pair of rubber gloves appearing.  

“Hey, I was just finishing the tiles,” she spoke, wiping her clammy forehead on the back of her arm. “How are you?” 

“Fucking surprised as hell at what I’ve come home to, shit,” he spoke, her eyes suddenly widening. 

“Oh, oh I, I’m sorry. I sh-should have asked if you minded. I’m sorry, I didn’t m-mean to overstep, I shouldn’t have, I’m so sorry. Please d-don’t be mad.” Her reaction went from zero to a hundred, her panicked babble delivered at speed, suddenly crouching, wrapping her arms around her head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”  

He was confused at how badly she’d misunderstood his surprise. “Woah, it’s alright. I’m not mad, blue eyes.” Moving to her, her crouched, resting a hand to her back. The muscles beneath his touch immediately knotted in tension. “It’s okay, I just... I didn’t expect all of this. It’s not your job to clean my mess, but I gotta say I appreciate it.” 

Eventually she revealed herself, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “You mean it? You’re n-not mad?” 

The stammers again. It pinched at his chest, to see and hear her so unravelled, wondering even more just what the hell kind of situation she’d fled to crumble like that so quickly. He hadn’t even raised his voice. Hell, he hadn’t even been angry in the slightest, yet she’d read his surprise as negative.  

“Of course, I’m not mad.” He slowly reached to cup the side of her face, thumb stroking the apple of her cheek, Emma feeling herself relax, a pleasant little tingle fluttering through her stomach. “Now, you need to tell me what in the hell else you made that smells so damned good, because it’s making my stomach rumble!” 

She pulled off her gloves, standing up, her smile shy, not able to look him in the eyes for that moment as bashfulness tugged at her. “Lasagne.”  

“Yeah? Shit, haven’t had any of that in years. Lead the way.” They moved into the kitchen, Guero taking in the extent of her cleaning, everything utterly spotless, the fresh scent mingling with the scent coming from the oven.  

“I ate already. It’s still warm, though. Big piece?”  

“Please, yeah,” he spoke, pulling off his t shirt. “Imma take a shower first, though.” 

When she turned, she almost dropped the dish she was placing onto the counter. Oh, hell. He had the kind of physique that came from dedication to the gym, a lean waist, ripped abs and a thick chest, the mass of his upper arms and shoulders perhaps the most impressive where bulk was considered. She’d also never seen anyone with that kind of tattoo coverage before either. What was more, she liked it.  

Realising she was staring at him with eyes like saucers, there was a little fluster to her actions, looking down as she cleared her through nervously. “Uh, um... that’s quite the collection of tattoos you have.” Feeling her cheeks flushing, she turned away, focusing on slicing a piece of the lasagne, chewing at her thumb furiously.  

Of course, he’d noticed her taking a moment to check him out, and usually he’d have been playful in response to that, him and his big mouth engaging in a little flirtation. He spared her, though, thinking it was adorable how furiously she blushed. “Yeah, I’m a walking canvas at this point. Anyway, won’t be long.”  

As soon as he’d left the room, she began to fan her cheeks, bouncing from one foot to another. “Oh god, that’s hot.” Men who looked like him were not what she was used to seeing shirtless. Seeing his body, she realised, had taken the edge off the little tumble into her repeated behaviour from her old life. Her natural reaction to whatever she deemed as upsetting someone was to literally drop down low and cower in fright, her submission expected in an instant.  

She could tell Guero wasn’t like that, but conditioned responses took a long time to break in habit.  

He joined her a few moments later, seating himself adjacent to her at the small table, dressed casually in light grey sweats and a black vest. “You even did my laundry for me and tidied my bedroom. Everywhere smells amazing. Thanks so much, but don’t feel like you have to for however long you wanna stay, alright?” 

Looking after people was all she knew, though. Turning it off would be like those conditioned responses; a hard habit to break. “I like it. It’s my pre-programmed state.” 

He was about to ask her what she meant by that, prior to taking his first mouthful of lasagne, pausing chewing a moment in surprise as a world of flavour burst upon his tongue. “Holy shit, that’s unreal! Were you a chef or something? Seriously, that’s amazing! Where’d you learn to cook like that?” 

Shrugging slightly, began chewing her thumb. “You pick it up around Italians.” Closing her eyes, a flash of the past transported her away for a moment, held at the neck, a hot knife pressed into her side.

“You think you can disrespect my mother’s memory by serving me this plate of crap? She’d turn in her grave if she saw what you’d done to her recipes, you idiot bitch!” 

He only ever burned her where people couldn’t see.  

“Emma?”  

Guero’s voice brought her back with a jolt. “Sorry, did you say something?”  

“Just asked if you wanted a beer?”  

Her reply was an immediate, pre-programmed response. “No, thank you. I’m not allowed to drink.” 

He frowned. “Says who?” 

Him. He says. She blushed, shaking herself softly, repeating her reminder in her head. “There’s no mafia in Santo Padre.” “Actually, I will. Thanks.” 

He smiled, going to the fridge and pulling it open. Fuck. She’d even cleaned in there, too. And filled it. Fresh vegetables, deli meats, cheese, fruit, milk, juices and cherry Coke. Obviously, she’d visited Khalid, whose large store was always abundantly well-stocked. 

Returning to the table, he twisted the tops off, handing one to her before he took a seat again, pausing in finishing his dinner. “I notice you dodged my question there.” His lips thinned in thought, considering his options. “Emma, are we about to get into a whole heap of shit for harbouring a mafia boss’s wife? You haven’t told me much, but that’s kinda what I’m assuming, that you got into that shipping container cuz’ you needed to vanish from a bad marriage without a trace, rather than heading to the airport. I dunno, or were you his...” he trailed off, snapping his fingers. “What do they call ‘em, the woman on the side? The goomada?” 

“Gooma,” she corrected softly. “No, I wasn’t married to Rocco. Gooma is probably what you could have referred to me as, but then again not really.” Her response was cryptic, her thumb going to her mouth once more. She always chewed it when nervous or embarrassed, he’d now noticed. “Can we talk about you, please? You mentioned you’re originally from Marana? I wanna know more, everything about you.”  

For her comfort, he left it, watching her begin to relax her drawn up shoulders as he started to talk about his life. “Okay, I’ll start at the beginning. I was born Guero Ramiro Ortiz on December twentieth, nineteen ninety-three. Interestingly, Guero wasn’t supposed to be my name at all. Dad started calling me that from the moment I was born, because I was light skinned like him. That’s what the word means, basically. Kinda more nickname than anything else. They liked it and it stuck, though. I like it better than being called Hector, as my mom wanted to call me, after her father.  

“So yeah, I’m the only child of my parents, but dad has a couple of others out there I haven’t met yet, little bastard Ortiz’s in the wind,” he continued with a snort. “He did some serious time, went away when I was ten and then didn’t get released until four years ago, when I was twenty-five. Mom didn’t stick by him, and she was pissed as hell that after he was released, us reconnecting led to me joining the MC. I swear, she smacked my lil’ brown ass down hard when she found out!” 

Emma chuckled at his widened eyes, sipping her beer as he continued. “I was pretty decent at school, went to community college and learned how to be a mechanic, worked in garages in Tuscon for years until I joined the MC.” 

“What made you want to go outlaw?” she asked tentatively, Guero taking his last mouthful of food and standing, placing his plate into the sink. Immediately, she sprang up, ready to wash it, finding her arms gently grasped as she was steered back into her seat. 

He leaned to her, shaking his head. “Nope.” His lips pressed a kiss to her forehead, her heart somersaulting in her chest at such a gesture. Forehead kisses from a man. They were alien to her entirely, but how sweet to be treated to one. “I joined the MC ‘cuz of dad, and the pay is pretty damned good, too. Made more money in my first year fully patched than I did in two working as a mechanic.”  

“What does fully patched mean?” 

His hand reached for Axl when he came ambling in, smiling when after receiving the scratches, he immediately moved to Emma. “It means when you become a proper member of the MC. Everybody has to take a year as prospect first, which means you get hazed to fuck, given all the shit work, have to be at the beck and call of any fully patched member. Bottles is a prospect, same as Nestor, guy with the braids. He’ll get voted next week, Bottles in four months.” Just then, his phone began to ring, pulling it from his pocket. “Speak of the devil.” Sipping his beer, he answered after a pause. “’Sup, Mr Magoo?” 

He sat and listened, Emma not able to hear the other end of the conversation, Guero beginning to frown as he laughed. “Hank’s gonna beat your ass, prospect. I didn’t see where you left ‘em, but if they fell outta your pocket while we were out earlier, then you gotta whole lotta fucking highway to go search, don’t you?” More speech from Bottles, Guero listening before he interrupted. “Hey, you’re disturbing my evening, and...” he trailed off, rolling his eyes before looking at Emma. “Bitch ass here says hi.” 

“Hi, Bottles,” she chuckled.  

“Right, no... I don’t... yo, you need to calm the fuck down and just go find ‘em. Ain’t on me. Bye!” Returning his phone to his pocket, he shook his head. “Fucking prospects.” 

“What did he lose?” 

“The damned van keys! Told him, put ‘em behind the bar or straight in Hank’s hand, but no. You’d think with how thick his fucking glasses are, he’d never lose anything. Fucking Amsco window face!” 

She took it Amsco were a glazing company, beginning to laugh at his joke. He turned to her with a smile, eyes alight. Her laughter was beautiful. Seeing her face lit up, it made his heart skip on a beat. It’d been a while since he’d experienced that. “It’s nice, seeing you relax more.”  

Nodding, she looked down at Axl for a moment, her lashes fluttery when her eyes found his. “That’s because of you. Thanks for being my safe person.”  

His chest swelled with pride, his smile growing. He liked hearing that, that he was the one she’d placed her trust in, especially after the state he’d found her in. She seemed much steadier, save a blip or two here and there, of course, but he guessed those were issues she had to work out in her own time.  

“Glad I can be, blue eyes.” He winked, and it sent her insides into a fizz, once again beginning to chew at her thumb. “You’re gonna have no skin left if you keep doing that.” 

Her shrug was soft, stopping and reaching for her beer. “It’s an old habit. I’ve done it since I was a kid.” 

“So, did you grow up in New York? You don’t have the accent,” he questioned, Emma shaking her head.  

“Spokane, Washington.” 

“Ahh. Moved out there when you were older, huh?”  

She bit her lips together, getting up when Axl moved to hover by the back door. “Little sir needs to go pee, yes he does!”  

Guero sighed quietly through his nose, trying to quell the little flicker of annoyance that she refused to talk in any great detail about herself. He shook himself from it quickly, though, remembering his own words to her on the matter. It truly wasn’t any of his business.  

“Hey, I noticed when I was tidying that you have all the Kevin Smith movies. I haven’t seen Dogma yet. Can we go watch it?” she asked from the backdoor, watching Axl sniffing and bounding around over the freshly cut grass.  

“Yeah, I haven’t watched that in a minute. Good choice.” More beers were fetched, a bag of popcorn microwaved and tipped into a bowl, the pair settling in on the couch. She then remembered what was stashed beneath it.  

“Oh, here,” she spoke, pulling the money he’d left for her from her pocket and handing it to him. “I’m not taking your money from you, although I really appreciate the gesture. I have enough of my own, which brings me to a question. Do you have a safe?” 

“Nope, although I gotta get round to buying one. I have a floorboard, though” 

She frowned, mouthing the word floorboard back at him questioningly, Guero jerking his head in the direction of his bedroom. After picking up her bundles of cash, she arrived with him, his eyes widening considerably when he saw the size of the stacks she held.  

“Jesus, what you got there, about twenty g’s?” he asked, pushing his knife beneath the floorboard over by the window and lifting it up.  

“Thirty.” It was enough for a new life, and definitely the least of what she was owed, she’d thought prior to taking it. Crouching next to him, she placed her money on the opposite side to where she could see a few more neatly lined piles, pleased he had an adequate hiding place. 

While he placed the floorboard down again, Guero contemplated asking whether it was the reason she’d fled, ripping off the mob for thirty grand, but the question never left his mouth. She’d likely not tell him. With her money safely tucked away beneath the floor, they reassumed their positions on the couch, Axl jumping up to curl against Emma.  

Whether it was residual exhaustion, or her cleaning and yard work endeavours, she dozed off before the movie even ended, Guero removing the popcorn bowl from her lap and gently lifting her up, carrying her to the bedroom and placing her down.  

She stirred, reaching for his wrist. “No, no. The couch is fine, I can’t take your bed.”  

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”  

“I do. I don’t mind sharing.”  

He paused, looking down at her. “Sure?”  

“Mmhm,” she hummed sleepily. He undressed to his boxers and climbed in, making sure he didn’t invade her space, Emma removing her sweats and placing them on the floor.  

“Fair warning, I’m told I snore loudly,” he spoke quietly, fluffing the pillows. 

“Yeah, so do I. Full on mouth breathing and hissing,” she revealed, making him chuckle quietly. “G’night, Guero.” 

“Night.” He was more tired than he thought, falling asleep quickly. He awoke a few hours later to what his sleepy brain assumed to be the hissing Emma had mentioned, opening his eyes to find the space next to him empty of her, sitting up and stretching. The noise he could hear was panicked, heavy breathing. He reached to switch on the nightstand lamp, looking to see her curled up in the corner, eyes wide as she muttered and rocked herself back and forth.  

Peeling the covers off himself, he approached her quietly, noting this was a new behaviour and wondering what had triggered it. A nightmare, perhaps? “Emma?” 

“Don’t do it again, can’t do it to me again. No, Rocco. No, please don’t.”  

She didn’t seem to even notice he was there. Crouching by her side, he tried again. “Emma, he isn’t here. You’re far away now, where he can’t find you.”  

“I did everything you said, I was good. Please don’t, it hurts me. No, don’t.”  

He tried again. “Emma, you’re safe. He can’t get to you here. You’re in California with me. New York is long gone, baby.” Placing a hand to her arm, the action jolted a response from her, her nails finding his skin and scratching as she flew into panic, screaming shrilly, her eyes wide. “Woah, woah! Emma, it’s me, it’s me. Calm down.”  

He clutched her wrists tightly, preventing her onslaught, watching as her wide eyes finally focused, taking him in as she gasped for breath. It took a few moments, but recognition softened her face, pulling herself free from his grip and throwing her arms around him.  

“I h-had a nightmare,” she panted, Guero tightening his arms around her, pulling her onto his lap.  

“Yeah, I guessed.” He waited until she calmed, feeling her breathing begin to steady, her trembles subsiding. “Look, I know you don’t wanna talk about whatever it is you ran from, but I kinda think you might have to. I think you need help, Emma. This shit, it isn’t normal, or good for you.” 

As he expected, she didn’t reply, clinging onto him as he stood and carried her back to the bed, surprising him greatly when she refused to let go. She lay curled against him, face buried against his neck, her breathing speeding and then slowing, her muscles tensing and slackening again as she wrestled with whatever it was up in her head that was terrifying her.  

She had never in her life lay like that with a man, within his protective embrace. It felt different, but good, his steady breathing and soft rhythm of his heart calming her down. Just forty-eight hours ago, she would have been too frightened to allow herself that, the intimacy of sharing a bed with a man, curled so closely against him. Allowing him to hug her had been fine, but this was on another level. A level that she was good with.  

While she settled into sleep, Guero lay awake for a time, beginning to worry about her going out into the world without dealing with her past. The way she remained clung onto him in those dead of night hours was telling, though. He doubted that any place where he wasn’t was a viable option in her terrified mind.  

He was fine with that, but he wished she’d let him help her beyond what comfort his presence could offer.  

[devildomdoofus]

Lemon Dreams: Part 1

[NSFW]

Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan

a bit of spicey lil dreams the brothers have of MC. If requested, I’ll add the undateables (minus Luke) into a Part 3.

Gender-Neutral as always.

MINORS:

DO NOT INTERACT

DO NOT PROCEED

Be smart, have common sense.

I’m not responsible for your irresponsibility.

You see the warnings. I put them out plainly. Adhere.

‼️WARNINGS‼️

NSFW, mature theme, mature content, implied intercourse, nudity, swearing, light bondage, BDSM, tidbit of pet play, wet dreams,

IF I MISSED ANY, PLEASE INFORM ME

Author’s Note (Sorry, I’ll try to be brief):

Trying my hand at some “light” N S F W content to see how I do and see how it goes.

Thank you all, once again, for the love and support and positive responses!! You’re enjoyment is the reason I keep doing what I love to do✨ Please: stay healthy, stay safe, stay you, and stay ruling them all, MCs 💕

- DevildomDoofus

💙Lucifer:

Regrettably, it has been nearly a millennia since he’s had any amount of a decent shuteye due to his brothers’ antics, his oversight of R.A.D., and obligations to Diavolo so you can only imagine the amount of fatigue that he felt in his mind, body, and soul. But because of his image and his own personal desire to be nothing short of perfect, he couldn’t simply rest whenever or wherever he pleased. It was outlandish to even consider the idea. Unfortunately, the side effects of denying himself any form of rest were starting to show. It was causing him to make mistakes he wouldn’t normally make and Diavolo had to personally intervene, using his authority on behalf of his dear friend’s health or lack thereof and demanded that he take a day off. He was the only one in all of the realms that could try and convince this workaholic to put on the breaks. You, yourself, have tried before but Lucifer was as stubborn as the days of summer were long and you felt like you were talking to a brick wall. But because Lucifer could not deny his prince’s demands, he reluctantly obliged... but not without absolute confirmation that nothing would go wrong while he was absent and as soon as he felt rested enough, he would return immediately.

Locking himself away in his room while putting a soundproof spell on the outside of it, he finally sits down at his desk and leans back in his chair as he sluggishly closes his eyes. The silence was both mildly relaxing and extremely uncomfortable as it was so rare for the world around him to be so... quiet. so undisturbed. So peaceful.

It was a bit unnerving.

He sighs deeply. This whole resting thing was going to be a lot more difficult than he originally thought. He stands up to go grab a vinyl record, places it on the antique gramophone and turns the device on. The orchestra makes their way through the metal funnel and the melody of the instruments echo beautifully throughout his room. “Much better,” he hums to himself. He tosses his coat aside, unbuttons his vest and drops it to the floor, removes his button-up shirt, kicks off his shoes, and does away with his belt while his pants follow suit. He dons his nighttime robe and finally slides into his bed. As soon as he hits the mattress, his eyes shut and his mind turns off, allowing him to drift swiftly into a deep slumber.

The dream started out like any other dream he’s had in his life; it’s mundane and not much is going on. It’s practically the same as ‘bringing work home with him’ but in his dreams. He’s at his desk, crossing his t’s, dotting his i’s, finalizing some paperwork, and the like, while the stress from his waking hours begins to find its way back to him like a boomerang.

Then, as if by magic, all of his stress melted away as soon as he heard a knock on his door along with your voice calling for him softly on the other side. He smirks. “You may enter.” He kept his head low as you stepped in due to the fact that he was finishing signing a particular paper. “Just a moment,” he instructs, as the last cursive letter finds its place on the paper. He begins to lift his eyes to meet yours. “Now, what can I do for yo-...” He freezes.

There you were, standing before him, in nothing but one of his ties hanging loosely around your neck. His jaw clenches and his fist tighten into a ball so firmly that his knuckles turn white under his gloves.

‘Like a lamb to it’s slaughter,’ he quotes, internally.

Needless to say, the dream takes a more DRASTIC turn and he’s got you bent over the desk, hands tied up with his tie that you so graciously considered to bring with you, and his name pouring out of your lips like a faucet. He’s taking you all for himself, piece by divine piece, with every snap of his hips, bite of your skin, and claw of your flesh. What a sight you were beneath him.

The moment he wakes, his body is covered in a ‘morning’s dew’ of sweat and the sheets of his bed have become painfully heavy on his lower half. His heart is still thumping wildly in his chest and his eyes are darting everywhere in his room, ensuring that he’s alone and no one can see him in such a disheveled state. He uses part of his robe to dab away the sweat from his brow and then rubs his eyes as he collects himself.

Spends the next many few hours calming himself down and hoping that he is blessed by some unholy miracle where NOBODY walks in...

especially you...

with nothing but his tie hanging loosely around your neck and-...

Ah shit.

The following morning at breakfast, he is eyeing you rather heavily from across the table and his brothers take notice but never dare to say a word. They just assume that you’ve done something to piss him off again and want no part of it.

They are not entirely wrong, though. You had unknowingly irked him quite a bit.

You entered his dreams without permission, made such a delectable spectacle of yourself in front of him, and caused him to feel things that no other demon, angel, human, nor any other soul for that matter, has been able to make him feel. And now he has to deal with these explicit thoughts and feelings, especially when you’re around or in his vicinity, along with many other things that demand his attention and it’s all just so irritating. Delightfully irritating. The kind of irritating he secretly enjoys.

The next few days, you never really get the sense that anything is off with Lucifer for how well he carries himself, no matter his circumstances, and yet... he seems to be less physical with you. Normally, he would give you the occasional hand on the shoulder or upper back when you needed guidance, allow you to lean on his shoulder when your days had been particularly rough and you needed to rest, or pinch your cheek when he teased you but lately... he wouldn’t even keep eye contact with you for very long without turning away and- was that a hint of pink in his cheeks? No, surely you are imagining things. Lucifer, blushing? Has the devildom froze over?

💛Mammon:

This poor, sweet and a little bit sleazy man was just SO exhausted from having to get up early that morning when he’d normally sleep in, to go to a school he doesn’t ever really pay attention to, as well as constantly keep lower demons from getting anywhere near his precious MC, bribe Levi to do his homework in exchange for an exclusive Ruri-Chan figurine (which he went into further debt to obtain), keep his overbearing fanbase from his modeling jobs happy on social media... it all was simply too much for The Great Mammon to be doing when he could alternatively be doing something better. Like being lazy sleeping off this R.A.D lag.

He had skipped his last few remaining classes and told you he was headed to your room to crash before school let out and you two could hang out later. He plopped onto your bed, nuzzled his face into one of your pillows, and fell asleep shortly after to your sweet aroma surrounding him.

His dream began as they typically do, with him gambling his Grimm for higher payouts or watching the Devildom stock market fluctuate in his favor... or more often times than he’ll ever admit, it’s just the two of you spending some quality time together alone for a change.

Only this time, his dream didn’t end up the way it typically did.

In his dream, he was sitting next to you on the sofa with his arm resting behind your head wanting to wrap it around you so fucking badly and watching whatever you had put on when it was interrupted by the winning lottery ticket read out. He leapt from couch with a big yell and the winning ticket in hand, and rushed to hug the tv and to kiss the demon inside of it, thanking him, Lady Luck, and anyone else involved in his incredible fortune today. As he turned around to come squeeze you tight with excitement and have you share in his celebration, his whole body tensed and he stopped in his tracks. He had become a deer in the headlights.

You were now lewdly postured on the couch, bare and exposed, excluding how you were practically dripping in gold jewelry/accessories whilst surrounded by enormous piles of Grimm. With one finger, you beckoned him over.

To say that this is one of his all time favorite fantasies would be THE understatement of the millennia.

He was in front then over you in a matter of milliseconds, his demon form taking over his body and stealing noises from you that the entire House of Lamentation- no- the entire Devildom could hear and FUCK he loved that thought almost as much as he adored you he cared about you; the thought that the entire Devildom could hear that you were his and his alone, that no other soul could make you feel like this.

And just as it was about to get really good, he wakes up.

Red faced, breathing heavily, and a thick coat of sweat all over his body. Not to mention the newfound, painful tightness in his pants.

He’s jerking his head around the room to confirm hoping to deny that is was all simply a dream, and to be certain that you hadn’t come back from school early or something and found him like this.

“Unholy shit.” He wipes the sweat from his face and then takes his phone in his hand to check the time. “UNHOLY SHIT!!” You had texted that you were on your way back home 10 minutes ago! He had to be quick.

He replaced the sweaty sheets and pillow cases with new ones, adjusting them so that it looked as it had before he slept on them, tied his school uniform coat around his waist to disguise the ‘friendly neighborhood bachelor,’ and darted like a bat out of devildom to his room, avoiding major hallways and doors to ensure that no one could stop him or chase him down and see him in his predicament.

You can be sure that for the next few weeks, he’s avoiding you like the plague. He sends texts that he is “paying off a debt and can’t make it,” or “Sorry MC, I’m a little tied up at the moment. This Grimm won’t make itself.” and to you it was a little odd, but nothing he hasn’t exactly done before, so you go about your days as normal. Poor Mammon has once spent an entirety of four months working a few jobs to pay off one big loan.

If only you knew how often he was reliving that dream in his head, over and over and over again. For such a thing to become reality? Well... he feels he’d have better luck winning the lottery. But just as he gambled, he wouldn’t give up so easily.

🧡Leviathan:

It is not uncommon for Leviathan to have certain dreams about certain individuals he enjoys, be it anime characters, video game characters, idols that he fawns over, etc. It’s normal. Quite often, in fact, but he would rather LITERALLY DIE before he ever admits to such a thing, much less have anyone think he has a crush. With his brothers as they are known to be, he’d never live it down. Which is one of the reasons why he keeps himself locked away in his room and goes on binges of whatever it is he’s invested in at the time. He’s left alone to do and be as much of himself as he pleases without judgment. It is one particular episode of an anime he had been bingeing for several hours that has him with his head resting upon his keyboard and ever so slightly snoring away as the characters converse in the background. It wasn’t boring in the least, it’s just that his eyes refused to stay open any longer and his body decided for him that it was about time for a proper nap.

His dream began as normal, with him on a quest to save the renowned, royal heir from the ten-headed beast that guarded the tower in which they were kept. The journey to the tower was extensive and not without its obstacles, the battle was epic, in every sense of the word, and the reward for it’s heads would match the gratification of the victory that ensued it.

Little did he know that in that tower, it wasn’t just any royal heir lying in wait for their prince to come, as they had always been. It was you.

You, in all of your glory, draped across the bed and adorned with the finest of cloths that were barely covering your most intimate of skins.

As he entered your bedroom chambers, expecting to find a fictional character he adored in his waking hours, he stops dead in his tracks and his entire body turns red hot in matter of seconds. You could easily hear the thumping of his heart throwing heavy blows at his ribcage, and, if you looked close enough, you could see the steam trickling out of his ears. You could also hear the clinking of his amor, the metal plates shaking against one another as he trembles before you.

Leviathan.exe has stopped working.

Yes, he’s had plenty of dreams like this before but.. fuck.. they were never of you. Much less like this. Believe him, he’s tried on many occasions to at least see your face or hear your voice, ANYTHING. But inevitably, his anxiety and shyness won in the end and you never came passing through his dreams... until now.

You leant against one arm, your lips curling into a smile, and then beckoned him silently with one crook of a finger.

Anxiety and shyness who?

He quickly does away with the heavy armor, tossing them aside, and crawls across the bed to you, to your face, to those precious lips.

He takes a hold of them in his own and seemingly devours you as he strips you of what little cloth covered you and then pushes you back down against the bed. The dream continues with your bodies intertwining in every way that earned him the lewdest of noises from you.

Until he jerks awake with his face a deep shade of crimson, body covered from head to toe in a mist of sweat, and a heartbeat that could put a drum solo to shame. He quickly scans his surroundings as he’s coming back to reality, making sure he’s the only one within a mile’s radius. If anyone thought he was a hermit now, you can only imagine what it would be like if he was caught looking the way that he did. The anime that he had fallen asleep to was now on a screen that was asking for confirmation if he was still watching. He presses the power button on his computer and wipes away the sweat on his brow before leaning back in his chair, eyes glued to the ceiling as he’s recollecting the dream. He sees the faces you were making in pleasure pass through his mind once more and it makes his face turn 30 shades redder and increases the painful tightness in his snug sweatpants. He shakes his head, no longer wanting to continue digging this grave of overwhelming lust, and plants his head back onto the keyboard. Lord Diavolo, please, just kill him now.

The following months, Leviathan stays locked away in his room and avoids you as if you were the final boss of a game he never wants to stop playing. He knew that if he saw you, got near you, or even heard your name being mentioned, there would be no way of stopping his thoughts, his body’s reactions to those thoughts, nor his brother’s comments about how he’s “acting awfully strangely.”

As much as he wishes that he never had the dream in the first place because of all of the trouble it’s causing, he can’t help but relive it over and over again, putting it on repeat in his mind. But to admit to you these powerful feelings and attempt to bring it to reality? Only normies do such a thing... right?

💚Satan:

Line after line, chapter after chapter, book after book, he simply could not put the new series he had discovered down. He was so invested, he’d finish one book and immediately pick up the next. His mind was reeling far too fast for him to stop now and nothing in all of the three realms could do so. That is until his own body waved it’s white flag and begged for him to shut his eyes, even if for just moment. Satan bargained, internally, that he’d allow himself roughly thirty minutes of rest before he’d pick back up where he left off. He sets the book on a nearby desk, settles down onto his loveseat and closes his eyes.

As a man of many talents and faces, his dreams were known to be as heavily diverse as he was, and often times reflected whatever book he had been reading, philosophy he had been pondering, or stress he had been managing. No one particular type of dream frequented more than another.

That being said, in the past few weeks, you had been a bit more physical with him. Whether it was a simple brush of the hands as you two reached for the same novel, late night study sessions ending up in late night study and cuddling sessions, or the occasional linking of arms as the pair of you walked the length of a museum and studied its inhabitants. It goes without saying that you were making an impression on him and his mind, leaving little to no room for any other thoughts than the ones involving you. Naturally, you had found your way into his dreamworld and you were the one constant in the ever changing slumber visions.

The dreams that you were involved in, which were now a majority of them, were mostly sweet; the most intimate being the one time you had placed a chaste kiss upon his cheek. If you were to ask him about these dreams that had him chipper than usual, he would smile and tell you that “they were simply pleasant hallucinations but nothing more.” And he’d be lying through his teeth, desperately trying to keep his cheeks from reddening in front of you. If you were lucky enough that his gaze lingered, you’d catch the tint of pink making its way across his face. The poor inner romantic in him couldn’t help himself. He’s mastered the art of poker face in its entirety, but when it came to you, his willpower and calm demeanor waned into nothingness and he was like putty in your hands. Just don’t push it or there will be Devildom to pay.

This particular time around, though, his dream would take a more unforeseen turn.

In his dream, he had invited you to join him on an outing over to the Royal Library and you two were now making your way to your favorite lone table in the farthest back corner, hidden behind the many shelves of books. After claiming your usual spot, he went to gather the books he wanted to go through and planted himself in the chair to finally open them up and get started. Meanwhile, you had wandered off, presumably, to find and create your very own mountain of novels to conquer.

An hour or so passed and he had made his way through five of his books when he felt a tap against the cover of the one he was currently reading. “Forgive me, MC, but I’m almost done with this paragraph and I need just one more moment to do so.” Another tap against the cover. “May it wait, MC? I’m nearly finished.” This time, you gingerly grabbed the tip of his book and tilted it away from him (a pet peeve of his). Just as he was about to give you his trademark glare of warning, his eyes widen and his jaw clenches, with his fingers letting go of the book and tightening into a fist taut enough to turn his knuckles white.

There you stood before him in little to no clothing, fluffy little cat ears and a tail to match, with a leash and collar adorning your precious neck. You took his stiffened hand, ever so slowly opened it up, and delicately placed the end of the lead into his palm, flashing him your cheekiest grin.

Now you’ve gone and done it. He snaps.

He jerks the end of the lead so that you’re aggressively pulled forward, bending over the table and sending the piles of books to the floor with audible thuds, and your lips crash into his. He uses his free hand to trap cradle the other side of your face as he devours your lips, devours your taste. Impatient and hungry, he soon lets you go with a low growl before standing up and dragging you behind him, forcefully, by the lead, coming to the front of a shelf that leant against a wall and grabbed your waist, lifting you up to push you against it, having more books tumble to the floor with a sound thud, while once again, taking your lips with his. Something about the way you looked, the way you sounded because of his actions, drove him completely mad.

Before it could go any further, he jerks wakes to the sound of someone knocking on his door. He quickly scans his surroundings and when he finds it empty, he breathes a heavy sigh of relief. The knocks continue and from beyond the door, a familiar voice requests his audience. “Satan? It’s Solomon. My apologies, but I just wanted to return a borrowed book.”

He reaches for a nearby cloth and dabs away the sweat that covered his face. He steadies his breathing and in the stablest voice he could muster, he answers back, “Alright. One moment please.”

“Take your time,” the sorcerer replies.

He gathers himself quickly, as the master of his own emotions does, hoisted up from the loveseat, straightens himself out and starts to head for the door but with a quick glance downwards, he pauses. There’s no way he could greet Solomon with such a visible... display...

He takes his coat from the coatrack, wraps it around his waist and finally opens the door with a welcoming smile.

“Thank you kindly for the recommendation. It was a pleasant read,” Solomon tittered in recollection then immediately shifted into a frown of concern. “Satan... are you alright? Forgive my intrusion, but you seem a bit disheveled.” The disheveled man in question nods, chuckling in hopes of deterring Solomon from pressing any further by lightening his aura. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for your concern. I simply had a bit of a nightmare.” Solomon raised a brow and Satan continued in his tall tale. “It had been so long since I’ve had one, so I’m sure you can imagine how unnerving it’s effects had on me.” Moments passed like molasses as Solomon pondered what Satan had said and the uncomfortable silence was wearing down on Satan’s last minute, makeshift composure. “Thank you for returning the book,” Satan’s voice firmly interjecting the fellow wise man’s thoughts as he received the book from his hands, “and I’m delighted that you enjoyed yourself.” He holds the book in front of where the coat covered his waist. “If you wish for more recommendations, I’ll be happy to share them with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some tea to drink and a book to read to calm my nerves. Good day, Solomon.” Before Solomon could get a final word in, Satan slips back into his room and shuts the door. For good measure, he locks it and turns the deadbolt. He shuffles back over to the loveseat where it all began and dropped down, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a heavy sigh. The blush that wanted so desperately to creep it’s way into his complexion the moment he’d awoken was now set free and his entire face turned red. He knew how to keep a tight grip on every other emotion he’s ever had... but love? Lust? This was going to be a challenge.

Outside of the door, not having moved an inch, Solomon stood with his chin snug between the crook of his forefinger and thumb. “Can demons have nightmares...?” He audibly contemplated as he waited a moment, following his train of thought before asking himself aloud again, “If so... then why did Satan have an erection?”

A pair of delicate hands found their way to Solomon’s shoulders and he glanced over them to see Asmodeus leaning in close to his ear. “It’s called a kink, darling.” Solomon politely shoos away the embodiment of lust with a gentle wave of his hand before starting down the hall from which he came, with the demon practically skipping in tow. “Kinks, we both know, I’m aware of. I had just assumed that his.. situation.. would be more relative to Belphegor.”

“Well,” Asmodeus chirped, “that’s what you get for assuming.”

[jae-daddy]

Duff (9)

im jaebum au series 

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven  masterlist

pairing: im jaebum x reader  genre: angst, smurt, cheating plot: you are the duff and guys use you to get close to your best friend, Heather, and turns out Jaebum is no exception, but as time does on the tension between you and your best friend’s unofficial boyfriend grows a/n: a short one, because I really truly hated where I had left the story last time. it was not it, but I like this. it’s better than the alternative I guess. also, I am writing all of it before publishing it so <3 hope yall like it <3 

You don’t know what came first; the guilt, embarrassment or hurt. 

But you knew yourself well, and you knew guilt didn’t touch your heart until later that night when you were lying in bed. As you stared up at the ceiling, thinking about that him, for the first time guilt laid its icy fingertips on you. 

The first thing you felt was hurt. Hurt that clawed at your heart, and made your soul whimper. Hurt that cut through you entirely as you remained in his arms, watching his face. 

“Yes,” he had said, his fingers digging into your hips. 

“Yes,” you replied, breathing him in as you leaned closer to him. 

You saw his lips draw into a straight line as he pulled away and said, “No.”

“Oh,” was all you said moving away from him. 

A simple sound, not even a word to express the pain that seared through you at his words. 

No.

He didn’t want you. 

Im Jaebum didn’t want you. 

You were in his arms, your skirt drawn up to your hips as you sat on his lap. In a single breath, he changed the moment completely, and you were no longer burning in passion, but in agony. Agony of not being desired by this man, not being wanted by him, when you yearned for him. When you were begging for his lips to touch any part of you, he had turned away. 

And then came the embarrassment blazing through the darkness of lust, and it hurt. It stabbed you everywhere till you were shivering in sudden coldness. You were so embarrassed, so ashamed. You had- you had done... all of that, and all he said was ‘no.’ 

It wasn’t the rejection that the embarrassment stemmed from. It was because you had tried, because you thought it would happen, because you thought he wanted you. Because you had offered yourself to him, and all he said to express his repugnance was a simple ‘no.’ 

You climbed off him and walked out the office. Your face was on fire from the shame as you straightened your skirt. You chuckled to yourself thinking a walk of shame was better then trying to hook up with your boss only to be rejected. 

You finished work that day, and the next, like nothing was amiss. As if that moment didn’t happen. As if every time you saw him, you weren’t reminded that he didn’t want you. 

Im Jaebum didn’t want you. 

It shouldn’t hurt that bad, especially since you almost swore you hated him with your heart. But it did, it hurt truly terribly badly, and there was nothing you could do about it. 

You couldn’t even feel sorry for yourself long enough too. Because as soon as the hurt and shame went away, and you looked up at your dark ceiling, you remembered her face. 

You remembered the way she had held your hand whenever you were scared. How she would give you that look every time she took your hand giving her courage. Her love, her kindness, her friendship, her. 

How for the first time since you’ve known her... for the first time, it seemed as if Heather truly liked someone and you... 

You didn’t feel sorry for yourself, or your heart that ached. You weren’t sure if the ache was because of the rejection or from the thought of loosing your best friend. But you didn’t feel sorry because what happened was your fault.

“Thanks for the files, y/n,” Jaebum looked up from his desk. For the first time, he was seated in the big boss seat without any reason. You smiled and nodded, before turning to leave, like nothing was amiss. As if that afternoon had never happened, as if you had never crossed that line.

You were almost out the door when he said, “Have a good weekend.”

Your fingers turned white on the handle, but you nevertheless you turned around and gave him a bright smile, “You too, Mr Im.” 

// 

Heather pouted as she sat next to you, before pulling you into a big bear hug. 

“It’s so nice to have my best friend back,” she sang, happily, hugging you tighter. 

You gave her small smile as you leaned into her, petting her arm, “It’s nice to be back.”

“Gosh, I’m so glad you’re done with that internship,” she huffed over the loud music of the club. 

You only nodded as you took a sip of your drink, “I still have three weeks left, Heather.” 

“Three weeks pass by like nothing,” she shook her head. She turned to you with a bright smile, “Remember Bali? Maybe now that you’re going to be more free, maybe we can...” 

She gave you a huge grin, quizzically raising her brows up and down to the music. Before she began bopping her head like a dork to the beat, “What do you say, y/n?” 

I’m sorry. 

“Whatever you want,” you smiled at her, and she exclaimed in joy. 

// 

“Mr Park Jinyoung is now officially the CEO of Spring Industries, and has sent forward a report and plan for their proposal,” You looked up to see Jaebum opening his mouth, but you cut him off knowing his question. “The file is already on your desks, and I have included a summary report from myself and Mr Paul.” 

You had a month and a bit to think about what had happened. In the beginning, you had blamed yourself. It was foolish of you to put yourself out there for him, but the more you thought about the angrier you got. 

It wasn’t all in your head. Im Jaebum did flirt with you. 

He gave you all the signals, all the green lights, and the arrows leading you to him. He basically had made a pathway for you to follow into his arms, and after all that he said no? 

No. 

No, it wasn’t your fault for putting yourself out there for him. You had done it because you thought... you felt that he too... but who knows, Im Jaebum was friendly with everyone. 

But he did tell others his wish was to kiss them?

Did he ever follow anyone to the rooftop of a club and call himself a fool for letting them go?

Did he talk to everyone about his mother?

Did he smile like that at everyone? Look at them like that? Touch them with the faintest touch of his fingertips?

But you should’ve known better. 

These rich guys never go for girls like you. 

You don’t have any money, any wealth, nothing to offer them to make their status go up. You weren’t even pretty enough to be a trophy wife. You were just a girl they could play with behind closed doors. 

But for Jaebum, you weren’t even worth that.

“Spring Industries is having a party on Thursday to announce Park Jinyoung as their new appointed CEO. They have requested your presence to show the companies are friendly--,” you once again looked up from your iPad, to find Jaebum staring at you intently. You ignored his gaze, and the rage that fumed inside you, “It’s most likely a political publicity stunt, but I would recommend you do go to the party, as it will be beneficial for you both-”

“What am I going to do about you?” 

“Excuse me?” You gasped, taken aback. 

Jaebum chuckled, humourlessly. His lips twisted into a smirk, and you realised you hadn’t seen him smile or laugh in a really long time. You tried to shove the pain shooting towards your heart away, but a pang still rang through you as you saw his sad smile. 

“How am I going to do this all without you?” He clarified himself. You stammered unable to think of something to say. Jaebum let out a sigh, “Come to the party with me.” 

“I’m afraid that’s-”

Jaebum interrupted you, making you frown. 

“Your last assignment as my secretary, Miss y/n,” Jaebum tilted his head to the side, smiling slightly as he said, “Come with me.” 

No. 

“What about Heather?” 

“I can’t go to formal gatherings with her without others assuming it's a political play,” Jaebum answered, before shrugging, “It’s too early for that step anyway.” 

Too early? They have been dating for months now, and Heather was head over heels for him, and he is saying it’s too early. 

“I-”

“Please, y/n,” Jaebum’s dark eyes bore into yours, and you held your breath. “One last time.” 

"Alright,” you sighed, defeated. 

“Thanks.” 

Thanks, love, the ghost of his past self whispered.

You swallowed the bitterness, before looking down at your iPad once again. 

“Mr Henry and Mark are...” you continued on as if nothing was wrong. 

Because nothing was wrong. 

Everything was right. 

You were about to end this dreadful internship, and come out debt free. 

Heather was in love with her boyfriend. 

Her boyfriend didn’t fuck her best friend. 

And your best friend was still your best friend. 

Everything was just right, but everything felt so wrong. 

// 

You were leaning against the rich white leather sofa and Heather’s shoulders. Your eyes were closed, as you tried not to break down in front of your best friend. 

You knew Jaebum wasn’t going to be here tonight. It was Friday night and he had a company dinner with the upper shareholders today. So, tonight you decided to sleep over at Heather’s house. 

Just like every moment you spent with her now, you wanted to burst out into tears and tell her everything. Tell her how you fell for him and his teasing words. How you didn’t mean to but you started to like him, how your heart ached every time you saw him. How terrible you felt every time you saw Heather smile at you like that, knowing that you were so close to ruining everything. 

“Hey, what’s wrong, babe?” Heather asked, her soft hands wiping the tears that fell onto your cheeks. 

You shook your head and moved away from her shoulder. You leaned into the corner of your sofa, and tried to hold in the tears. But you couldn’t. 

Your chin began to shake as more tears fell from your eyes. 

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Heather moved towards you quickly. “What’s wrong, babe? You can tell me anything.” 

You shook your head, you couldn’t tell her this. You couldn’t tell her this. You couldn’t lose her. 

“I’m sorry, Heather,” you whispered into her tank top as she pulled your shaking body into her. 

“Shhh,” she hushed, brushing your hair, trying to calm your sobbing body, “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s only to be okay. I’m here for you, I’m always going to be here for you. Okay?” 

You bit your lip as you cried harder. You managed a meek okay through your tears. 

After you had calmed down a bit, you leaned back and looked at your best friend. Her eyes were glistening with concern, and a few stray tears running down her face too from seeing you cry. 

You couldn't hide it from her, she was your other half. You had to tell her, but all you could manage was, “I love him, Heather.” 

I love Im Jaebum.

[lovelypale]

Narcotics // Addict!Senjuro x Dealer!Reader

Warnings: 18+, drug use, addiction, toxic relationship, suicide mention, it’s consensual but I’m gonna say dubcon just in case, mostly plot with a bit of spice, Senjuro is college aged.

Words: 1600

a/n: Had this idea plaguing me and I just needed to get it out. Sensitive topic here (as if I write anything that isn’t) but yeah may or may not give these two a happy or sad ending. Let me know I guess!

You opened the door to the large figure in front of you, dripping from the downpour that was tearing through the city. He was imposing in stature but still very skinny otherwise; a very meek man. He was shivering, but you had a feeling that it wasn't from the rain. 

"Why did you take the last train?" You tested the water with a small opener. It was very curious that he would show up so late, again. He knows what he's here for, but you wanted him to say it himself. 

He opened his mouth to speak but ultimately couldn't, instead opting for a shaky wave. You scoffed and opened your door wider for him before leaving to get a towel. When you returned he was still at the door, still shaking, still appearing utterly helpless. You handed him the towel and he took it from you, still avoiding your eyes. Everything was silent. 

"I'm not selling to you anymore Senjuro." 

He continued to stand there, blond and red locks frayed and dripping water on the floor. He looked beautiful, always does, it was a talent that even helpless and strung out he still looked breathtaking. He nodded and hugged himself tighter. "I'm sorry. I'll do anything, please." 

"You don't want anything from me." You put your hand against his cheek and felt his cool trembling against your warm skin. He was desperate again. He said he was going to quit plenty of times but he would always end up right back at your doorstep. You watched him grow from a slightly misguided kid to a truly fucked over adult. He barely knew his mom, dad's an alcoholic, and his brother seems alright but he was always busy teaching. You're sure he's messed up like everyone else and is just the type to let things fester in secret but Senjuro doesn't know that. He thinks he's the problem, the only one that couldn't cope, that can't contribute in the way that his older brother does. It messed with him so badly that it led him to you. The school's dealer. Not only can you make the pain disappear, you can make it feel good.

He doesn't need to feel good. He needs to never see you again. 

"I can't stop shaking, my family will notice. Please." 

"I hope you know they’d hate what you do for this more than the actual drugs itself." He looked at you with his dull red eyes through his foggy glasses, you remember when they used to sparkle. He wasn't like you, he was always so motivated and happy. At some point you used to envy his shy and upbeat demeanor. 

"I understand." He smiled at you but it looked eerie and unnatural. He wasn’t lying about his shaking though, it really did look bad.

You shook your head at him and sighed, turning around to a side room to check your supply. Lucky him, you had exactly what he needed. You took just one and dropped It in his palm. He looked at you confused. "I told you I'm not selling you shit anymore. You're getting one to tide you over, other than that I don't want to see you here ever again. Get help."

He looks at you with a plea in his eyes as he gently grabs your arm. "I don’t think I have anyone else y/n, please don’t leave me alone.”

"That's not my problem, do you even have money anymore?" You pushed away from him and he quickly latched back on to you. Your heart strained in your chest, you always hated this part. This stupid hug he gave you that brought you back to your youth, the days of being in high school when he hugged you before running off to his friends. This was always just business to you but he walked into your life and you’ve felt increasingly responsible for him since. It felt less and less like making money and more like assisted suicide. 

He placed the pill in his mouth and pulled himself even closer to you, ''Anything." You felt his still wet body pressed against you and you knew this fight was over.

You sighed before pulling away from him and walking to your room. He followed you, knowing exactly how this routine went. He watched you kick off your pants and your underwear. You sat on your bed in nothing but your top and watched him with guilty eyes. He was pretty, even with fading hair and way less weight than he started with he was gorgeous to you. Usually people as deep as him don’t maintain as well but he managed to keep his baby face. He looks tired, the type of tired sleep can't fix, but at least you can't tell that he's sold his life away for a drug. At least not yet, but he's getting there. 

You know you're taking advantage of him, but he's also hoping you do. He’s always been a people pleaser and you can’t say no to letting him please you. It started with him running you drinks to making out in your car and now...Terrible. As sinister as this courtship is, neither of you truly want to stop. You loved him, but not enough to stop him from hurting himself. "Hurry up, you have an 8 AM tomorrow." 

“I dropped that course.” 

You stared at him with pure pain in your eyes. “Of course you did.” 

He peels himself out of his wet clothes with a slight sway to his form, you can tell whatever issues that plague him are starting to float away. As usual, he keeps his glasses on. He smiles at you with weird reverence, like he's thankful that you're going to be the one to ultimately kill him. Your hand immediately takes hold of his pretty cock. Long, curved, and pink at the tip. You swirled your thumb around his tip as he patiently waited for you to tell him what to do. You made languid movements up and down his twitching dick, thinking to yourself that you should probably do something before he's completely spaced out. 

"Lay down." He listens and slowly gets on your bed before giving his attention back to you. You can never seem to get over how dainty he looks, it makes you feel even worse about your little situation. You get on top of him and he instantly starts bucking against you, not really even aiming for anything, just trying to get the burning sensation on his skin to cool down. You didn't prep but you didn't need to, taking him was easy. Power and pity is two things you've learned to sexualize when it comes to him. His vulnerability had to be hot or else it would quickly become sad.  

His legs squirm underneath you from the building sensitivity. He utters small "thank you" and gasps as you move up and down his dick. His slight curve rubbed against your upper wall, causing you to be noisier than you'd like to be.  He's getting warmer and warmer, feeling found inside of you. The world is fading off into something more obscure, something that isn't tangible. Your hips feel plush against his palm, he's digging down and tearing into your skin but he knows you’ll forgive him for it.

You watch him writhe in ecstasy, getting closer and closer to his high. He looked so beautiful with his hair all over your bed and his glasses threatening to fall off completely. You never get a warning with him, your orgasms are always so sudden and violent. Your thighs squished his as you curled into yourself, he was still thrusting, seeking his own relief. You thought you were going to pass out from the feeling of him still plunging deep inside of you. "S-stop." 

You pulled off of him and wrapped your hand around his sticky cock again, not wanting to leave him hanging. He seemed to be capable of the job on his own, thrusting into your warm palm with pure joy. "I'm getting close-." You didn't give him the chance to finish his sentence before you changed your hand motion to a slight twist. He came almost instantly in your grasp, you flinched from the slight splatter against your face as you continued to move your hand. He struggled to look at you. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that." 

You let go and grabbed the same towel you gave him to dry off. "You always say sorry so much, stop it." You knew he probably didn't hear that, he was past the point of holding an intelligible conversation. There's nothing but the sound of your sheets moving underneath his squirming body and the sound of faint moaning, it wasn't a pretty sight but you're used to it.

You watched him move around until he eventually stayed completely still, fully enraptured by his high. He was going to be stuck like this for a few hours. You shook your head, admonishing yourself for even letting him in. You can't keep giving him drugs, and you especially can't keep letting him pay you like this. You grabbed his glasses and put it on your dresser so he wouldn’t crush it, in that moment his phone lit up and you saw the message, it was his brother. His friends stopped asking where he disappeared to a long time ago, it was truly only Kyojuro that still cared about where he went to at night. He has to know the reason why his brother is slipping away.

Hey! I finished grading tests early and picked up your favorite on my way home. I was hoping I could talk to you tonight but don’t worry about it! Your food is in the fridge. Wherever you are, stay safe. We care about you.

You winced at the message and decided to respond for him. Thank you, I'm staying with a friend to study tonight. I'll be back tomorrow. 

Nothing but routine.

[dissociacrip]

the delightful dilemma of being multiply physically impaired in ways that directly contradict my ability to efficiently perform my manual labor job duties as a dishwasher in ways that would get me fired if it weren't for the fact that having to overcompensate for my brain and body-wrongness has somehow made me more reliable and consistent than my co-workers - purely in comparison to their typical lack of dedication - and therefore i get a level of responsibility and expectations forced on me that tends to make me sicker. also the fact that i'm working until like 1-2am while having to pretty much sleep on the floor rn.

i didn't call out once while having signs of a herniated disc (not signs of disc herniation according to upper thoracic mri, possibly cci and/or a csf leak) in my cervical/upper thoracic spine causing me excruciating pain that felt like my back/shoulder was on fire and like a knife in the base of my neck, i just left slightly earlier than i was supposed to one time (technically i should have left beforehand based off my schedule but i hadn't caught up dishes all the way due to me being incapable of working fast enough due to my body not working) because the amount of pain i was in was starting to trigger a breakdown. aside from this for the past 2-3 years i have had recurrent episodes of intense, searing pain in my upper back/lower neck accompanied by fairly rapid deterioration of coordination and cognition to the point of slurring my speech and moving/talking like i'm drunk that is only relieved when i lay down for several hours afterwards, which extends beyond my pots symptoms and is suggestive of recurring or flaring csf leaks or cci or both or something. for whatever reason these episodes correlate with working morning hours and have decreased significantly since i've primarily been doing night shift..?

either way though last night my knees still buckled on me a few times when the muscles in my legs started getting weaker on me from exertion. i can't bend down to pick stuff up out of the grates because i get dizzy and almost fell over from it one time. i really only still have this job because my co-workers suck that badly. i haven't had the same energy levels i did before since getting covid in january, though the potential csf/cci shit came before that. i really need to find another fucking job where i can sit down and have minimal interaction with people that pays at least the amount i'm making now but school makes that difficult and my social problems and mild hearing issues get in the way of most desk jobs due to them hinging on customer service work. and actually getting the whole "possible cci/recurring csf leaks" thing addressed in any helpful way is going to be an absolute nightmare. idk where i was going with this i just hate that i'm in this situation of having no choice but to support myself when i'm just barely able to do so with current circumstances and i don't know if my situation is getting progressively worse as time goes on because none of this stuff has been adequately addressed or treating and medical staff don't want to do their fucking jobs properly. i worked for like a month with that "herniated disc" pain and the mri showed nothing helpful like lol ok well i guess i'll just go fuck myself dude.

[xpeachesncream]

acquainted | six

> series masterlist | series playlist <

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: jungkook x reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 4.7k

warnings: unprotected sex, begging, rough sex, doggy style, hair pulling, very slight dirty talk, slight hints of jealousy, very brief moment of spit play, oral (f. receiving), breast play, cum eating, fingering, multiple orgasms, marking/hickeys, cussing/mature language, angst, cuddling/after care, mentions of car accident/death, insecurities, unanswered questions, dont really know wtf this is or where it’s going, love triangle mess

tags: @laurynne5 @yiyi4657 @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead @bluesharksandfish @photographic-girl @yonkoghan @moonchild1​ (pls msg me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

The Uber ride is silent, and part of you started to question whether or not you should continue. But, before you could really talk some sense into yourself, you had arrived at Jin's house.

You remember him dropping his address into your text thread after Chance's death anniversary, in case you ever needed anything. For which specific reasons, you had no idea what. Maybe for times like these? You were beginning to think this is what he planned all along.

As you slowly walked up to the front of his perfect family sized home up in Orinda, you felt a little weird seeing his car and what you assume is Grace's car. You also remember him briefly saying Grace would be in New York, but you double check your receipts just to make sure [on some serious hoe shit]. If anything, you could just make up some weird, bullshit excuse and run away, right? Pull the drunk student card. Hopefully, you wouldn't have to.

You ring the doorbell once and stand there awkwardly. You didn't hear any movement in the house, although the lights were on, so you hit the doorbell once more, the cold settling into your skin as the minutes go by. This was the moment you started to really question your decision. Like what the fuck, Y/N? What are we—

Lo and behold, Jin answers the door. He looks like he had just hopped out the shower since he showed up in sweats, a white longsleeve and damp hair.

"Sorry, I just hopped out the shower." He steps aside to let you in, almost like he already expected you to show up.

"It's alright." You fiddle with your fingers.

"It's freezing, are you cold? Do you want a sweater?" You look down at your leggings and the thin sweater you grabbed.

"I'm good, thanks." You say softly as you follow him deeper into the house. It's quiet for the most part, and you feel incredibly awkward walking behind him like a lost child. He stops in his kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water.

"Water? Or anything to drink? Eat, even? I might have something I could whip up for you really quickly." You chuckle.

"No, don't worry."

"Soooo, wanna tell me what you're doing here Y/N?" He chuckles at you.

"Don't flatter yourself, Jin."

"Can't help it since Jungkook doesn't seem to live here." He smirks, his hands now dug deep into the pockets of his sweats. You can't help but marvel at the sight of his long, veiny arms and the way his collarbone is poking out from his longsleeve. Oh, the thought of his hands wrapping around your neck.

"Ha-ha, very funny." You say sarcastically, crossing your arms.

"Just going along with your game." He's now closer and towering over you, subtly biting his bottom lip as he looks down at you. "You have fun with my stepbrother tonight?"

"And if I did?" At this point, your knees are buckling and you're about ready to pounce on this man with the way he's been acting.

"So then let me ask again - what are you doing here, Y/N?" His voice slightly deepened as his finger rose your chin for you to look him in the eye.

"Why ask when you know?"

"Cause I wanna hear it."

"You really wanna hear why?" You say, almost at a whisper.

"Yeah, I do." He edges his face closer to yours, the lust very apparent and strong as hell between the both of you. "Or you can show me." You suddenly can no longer hold yourself off, forgetting the events that played out until this moment. You instantly throw your bag aside and jump onto him, kissing him as he wraps his arms tightly around you to hold you up. He doesn't break the kiss as he's making his way up to the bedroom.

He gently lays you on the bed, taking off his shirt before aiding you with yours. You bite your bottom lip as you gush at the sight of his upper body, your panties feeling more soaked by the minute. You wanted every bit of him, and you were ready to get filthy, fulfilling every need Grace couldn't. He snatches your leggings off, tossing them across the room. His large hands are feeling down your entire body as he deeply kisses you. His lips move down to your jaw, then down to your neck, his tongue swiping across your skin before nipping and sucking on the surface to leave his mark. You let out a moan while your hands are in his hair.

"Fuck me, Jin. Pleeeease." You mewl as he's sucking on each breast, his tongue toying with your nipples before gently sucking and nibbling on them. He makes his way down your stomach and to your inner thighs, his long fingers hooking onto your panties and shoving them aside.

"God, Y/N. You have no idea how bad I've been wanting to fuck you." He says lowly before he lowers his mouth onto your wet pussy. He instantly swipes his tongue down your folds, sucking all the wetness that leaks out. You let out a breathy moan when the sensation hits you, sending chills and goosebumps down your body. He inserts two digits, biting his lip at the sound your pussy makes every time he curves upwards and picks up the pace.

"Ohhhhh my god." You moan as you slightly arch your back and palm your breasts, toying with your own nipples as he continues to finger you and suck on your clit like no tomorrow. "Mmmmmm, fuck!" You almost yell as one hand is gripping the sheets, trying your hardest to hold on for as long as you could, but this man was really about to make you cum right at this moment.

And so he does. He makes you cum so fucking hard your body needs to be held down from how bad you're trembling. All you want is more, and he knows you want more. He pulls you to the edge of the bed, ready to line himself up with your entrance but you take his cock in your hand and jerk him off for a bit. His cock is long, and the perfect thickness. His tip red and angry, pooling with pre-cum that your thumb is swirling around and playing with. Your free hand is grabbing his other hand and inserting the two digits he used to finger you into your mouth, sucking each digit slowly. He can't even fucking bear this sight right now, or else he'll probably blow his load right onto you. His eyes are rolling to the back of the head and all he can think about is fucking you so hard that the headboard almost breaks the wall.

He wanted you so fucking badly, and you were being the biggest, dirtiest tease.

You finally insert the tip into your entrance, gasping and smirking at how good it'll feel when he completely fills you up. He wastes no time pushing himself into you, completely bottoming out until he's thrusting into you harder than you imagined. Your body is moving upwards, titties shaking and bouncing from how hard he's going. One hand is gripping your thigh tightly as you wrap your legs around his torso, the other is around your neck.

"Jin! Fuck, you're gonna make me cum again." He groans, closing his eyes as he continues to thrust hard, going deep every time he pulls back, hitting your core with the sudden movement.

"You think my brother can make you feel this way?" He lets out breathily.

"N-no." You whine, tears streaming down your face at the overwhelming sensation.

"Seemed like you thought so earlier." He has this look in his eyes, the same look he had when he was hungry for you at the club. Except this time, it was ten fold more being he was in between your thighs, fucking you until he couldn't anymore. And honestly, this shit was boosting his ego because Jungkook had you wrapped around his finger all night and he hated it. Jungkook was a really good looking dude, who was good at a lot of things, and Jin couldn't help but feel a little competitive against his own sibling.

But here he was, getting you all to himself.

"N-no!" You beg. "Only you. Only you can make me feel this way. Please make me cum." He groans, his thumb now working circular motions onto your clit until you're letting your climax take over your entire body once again. You're so out of breath at this point, but Jin doesn't stop and instantly gets you on your fours. He swipes his hand down your pussy, making you suddenly jolt at the sensitivity. You feel his spit dribble down your folds, causing your breathing to hitch. It was obvious Jin was letting out this pent up sexual tension or whatever the hell it was, but you honestly couldn't care less. He could use you all he wanted, especially if he made you cum the way you did just these past two times.

At first, he was gripping your hips, holding onto you as he hammered into your pussy from the back. You started following his movements with his, making him pause just to feel you move along his cock. He gives your ass cheek a good smack, causing you to yelp at the heat pooling at the spot. He grips your ass, spreading it just enough to continue burying himself deeper into your core.

"Just like that." You moan. "Hohhhhhgod, just like that!" You're almost crying. He grabs a hold of your hair, tugging it back so that he can see your face.

"Let me see you play with yourself." He spits out. You reach down for your clit, your hands rubbing in circles as he continues to fuck you and tug on your hair. You let out a loud moan, the headboard really damn near about to create a dent into the wall. "Yeah, that's it. You're fucking naughty." He says in your ear. You feel yourself spiraling for the third time tonight, and this third time has you weak, causing you to collapse down onto the bed as he continues to thrust into you and fill you up with his seed, his hand pressing your face down against the bed ever so slightly.

"Ohhhhggfuck!" You groan, twitching at the last minute aftershocks running through your body.  The only sounds filling the room are you and Jin catching your breaths. He slowly slips out of you, grabbing a tissue on the nightstand to clean you up before cleaning himself up and throwing on his sweats and shirt.

"You okay?" He slightly chuckles, handing you one of his shirts to slip into. You weakly get into it, running your hands through your hair and fixing yourself up. Your panties and bra are still off to the side, along with the clothes you came in.

"You wanted to know why I was here, right?" He smiles, his cheeks tinted a rosy color.

"I'll get you some water, but is there anything else I can get you?" He asks, holding onto the door frame, fine as fuck doing the bare minimum. You shake your head and he disappears out of the room.

You can't believe this happened. So much for keeping distance. But did you regret it? Honestly -absolutely not.

Jin comes back with two glasses of water and sets yours on the nightstand next to you, which also has a picture of him and Grace. Ironic. He sits right next to you on the edge of the bed, watching as you yawn before sipping some water.

"Tired?"

"Yeah, it's been a really long night."

"Tell me about it, Miss 'I'm trying to keep my distance from you.'" You shake your head.

"Yeah yeah, keep it up. It's exactly what I want." You sarcastically joked.

"I'm kidding." He places a hand on your covered leg and gently gives it a squeeze. "For the record, I'm happy you swung by."

"I am too, but I should probably make my way home soon."

"What? No, stay. It's late. Plus, you're tired."

"A-are you sure? I-I mean, I don't wanna--" He shakes his head to cut you off.

"I honestly would really like you to. Besides, I don't know why you expected me to let you go back home this late." It was weird. You honestly thought he'd fuck you then send your ass home, but here you were, cuddling into his sheets and getting warm. But this was Jin - the same guy who didn't go home until you had a chance to spill out your feelings and made sure you were okay. The exhaustion hits you, being that it's 3-4am or something like that, you don't even care to know.

"Okay." Is all you say, sinking deeper into the sheets that smelled like lavender Downy detergent.

"I just need to clean up a few things, alright? Go to sleep. I'll be back in a minute." You quietly nod as you lie on your side, examining the photo on the nightstand. Fantastic job keeping up with your end of the deal, Y/N. Although your friends would probably make jokes about it at first, they'd be so disappointed beneath the surface.

You shake your head and turn the other way to erase your thoughts. You start to feel comfortable, enough to the point where you find yourself falling asleep pretty quickly.

Meanwhile, Jin is cleaning up his kitchen and living room before shutting off the lights and heading back upstairs. By the time he's back in the room and shutting off the bedroom lights, he sees you fully asleep. He smiles to himself and slips into the bed, careful to not wake you, but he's unsuccessful as he feels you stirring and getting closer to his body. Jin welcomes it, throwing his arm around you and allowing you to snuggle up onto his chest, gently running his fingers down your sides. Your skin felt like butter.

"Are you not sleeping yet?" You mumble into his chest.

"I'll sleep soon." He says softly, flipping through the channels on the TV in front of him.

"It's late, though."

"It's a Sunday morning. I'll be okay." He smiles at how cute you were being. "Go back to sleep, cutie."

"Hmph, suit yourself." You say, making him silently laugh to himself. Attitude still on na-na even half asleep. He places a gentle kiss on the top of your head and brings the covers up to make sure your entire body is covered completely.

This.

This felt right for him, no matter how fucking bad or wrong this all went down. No matter how he tried to look at it, or anybody else. He felt deeply for you after tonight and there was really no way of hiding it. Why shit came about this way, he won't ever truly understand, but he always looked at you as some sort of sign. Some kind of blessing in disguise. He knew what he wanted for himself. He had to do what was right for him, whatever that meant. He was the only one who could truly understand.

You shot up from the bed, grabbing your chest as you tried to regulate your breathing. You had just experienced the worst nightmare you had ever experienced, the only part of it you remembered was seeing Chance behind the wheel as soon as the truck came head on first.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" Jin asks in a deep, sleepy voice, slightly raising his head and eyes barely open. You feel his hand against your back, gently caressing it.

"Yeah, sorry."

"Bad dream?" He's now yawning and sitting up against the headboard, his fingers still lightly caressing your hips.

"Yeah."

"Wanna talk about it?" You shook your head.

"I just saw Chance behind the wheel before the oncoming car came on head first."

"I'm sorry." He says softly as he pulls you in.

"It's no big deal."

"Wanna make sure you're okay, though." Is all he says. He doesn't press you for details, or anything along the matter and simply sits there in silence, caressing you and holding you close. He knew you and Chance had a strong relationship, just based off of the way you talked highly about him, and that it was taken away from you unexpectedly. He wouldn't expect you to be completely over it. He would never understand the pain or how it feels, but he could do his best to be here for you. "You know I'm here if you need me."

"I know. Thank you." He smiles.

"Would you like some breakfast?"

"Sure."

"I'll cook something." He places a small kiss on your temple before getting up to get this Sunday started. You took a couple of deep breaths, still a little shaken up from the dream you had. But, you brush it off and get up to meet Jin downstairs. You slip on your panties, still walking around in Jin's shirt, and pass by his walk-in closet only to see Grace's clothes against one wall. You suddenly start to feel weird, so you hurry on by and get downstairs before you could start falling into a rabbit hole about your feelings. Jin was already at the stove, whipping up some eggs and getting some waffles into the toaster. He looked good doing so, his shirt doing a damn good job of outlining his back muscles and broad shoulders. You honestly wouldn't mind another round of last night.

You sit on the stool in front of the kitchen island and fiddle with your bag to grab your phone. It was still pretty early, so it wasn't surprising to see no texts from either of the three. You were sure you were going to hear from Ryujin soon, and you were going to make sure you would be home by the time she called. Hopefully, at least. However, there was a text from an unknown number, and your heart slightly sank when you realized who it was.

[unknown number] 3:02am: had a lot of fun tonight. probably the best birthday yet. thanks cutie :) hope you got home safely.

Jungkook.

"Friends blowing up your phone?" He raises his eyebrow as he watches you stare at your phone. You slightly chuckle and tuck it aside, making a mental note to respond when you got home. Yup. This shit is messy already.

"Not exactly, thank God." You rest your chin on the palm of your hand. "Sorry about earlier, by the way."

"Sorry about having a bad dream? Y/N, don't worry about it."

"And thank you for letting me borrow your shirt and for cooking breakfast." Jin smiled as he began to plate your food. It was the little things that he appreciated, the little things like the way you said thank you for everything.

"Of course." He walks over to your side and puts the plate down in front of you. You raise yourself up a bit in order to kiss him on the lips, knowing you weren't gonna stop that kiss right away. "Your. food." He spits out in between kisses, making you laugh.

"Okay, okay." He chuckles as he sits next to you, digging into his own plate. The both of you start talking about plans for the day and week, with no mention of Grace even though you knew your alone time with Jin would come to an end. No discussion about what this was, or what you both intended for this to be, especially in the long run.

"Why don't you come and stay the night again?"

"I got some work to do." You pouted.

"Then bring it over."

"Bring it over and then what, get distracted by you all night?"

"Maybe." He smirked.

"Mmmm, we'll see." He pouts.

"Fine, I'll let you do your own thing." You chuckle.

"You're a baby."

"I just got you to myself." You shake your head and quietly poke at your food. Suddenly, you felt the need to ask the question. You were just dying to. Like.. what now? What happens when Grace comes back? Nothing? You didn't know what to expect, you should've known this couldn't be much with Grace being back soon.

"So." You poked at your eggs.

"Hm?" He continued to eat, his cute, bug eyes occasionally glancing at you.

"God, I really don't know how to ask this."

"Just ask, Y/N. It won't hurt." He gave you a small, reassuring toothless smile.

"So, what happens when Grace gets back?" He shrugged. Really? Just a shrug?

"Honestly, I don't know."

"Look, I know I can't ask for much right now but are we just going to continue living our own lives after all this? Are you just going to keep me here with Grace around too?"

"I know I can't promise anything but it's not my plan to keep both of you around like that. I'm going to talk to Grace because I just don't think this is working between us anymore."

"How are you so sure? What if Grace comes back and you realize how much you truly do love her?" You felt stupid for asking but you were also dying to know. Your thoughts were everywhere and right now, it felt like your mind was your biggest enemy. You really didn't know what to do, and part of you [majority of you, really] felt like this was completely and painfully temporary and that he was never going to leave her. He had no plans to. You were just filling this void.

You couldn't be mad at it though.

"Y/N, please don't worry about this, okay? I'll take care of it." You simply nodded, knowing you couldn't settle on this too quickly because you didn't even know what that meant. Maybe, this is what it was. Just this. You couldn't expect more. Besides, you still had Jungkook around. You didn't even know what you were trying to do with that either, cause he was fine as hell. A sweet soul too, with the way he handled you at the club, careful to not overstep boundaries and disrespect you in anyway.

Too bad you were too wrapped up in his stepbrother.

Obviously, these things were never easy.

"Okay." is all you say before you continue to finish up your food. Once finished, you do what you can to help clean up the dishes and the kitchen before changing back into your clothes so Jin can drop you at home.

On the way home, Jin has his hand on your thigh while you looked out the passenger's window. Last night replayed over and over in your head and you had to bite you bottom lip to prevent yourself from smiling too big.

"Oop." You say as you jump from the vibration of your phone. "Oh shoot."

"Everything okay?"

"It's just Ryujin, hang on." He nods silently. "Hello?"

"Girl, I'm hungover as fuck. Let's get coffee or walk around somewhere. I need fresh air."

"Sure, I'll be home in a minute, I can meet you up in the next hour or so."

"Where the hell did you go this early?"

"Run errands, workout." You lied. But did you really? You kind of did get a workout in early this morning.

"Run errands and workout after a late night at the club?" She snorted. "Okay. I guess we clearly handle the morning after way differently."

"Yeah, just wanted to avoid the crowd." You glance over at Jin, who's smiling and silently chuckling go himself.

"Mmmkay." She yawns. "Hey, did you ever get that guy's number? I forgot his name." You subtly roll your eyes because you know damn well she wasn't gonna try and make you say Jungkook's name right now. She was drunk as fuck and flirting with Jin's friends when you had given him your number. Of course she couldn't remember for the life of her.

"Yeah, he asked."

"What's his name though? It's bothering me, cause I feel like I knew it all night but now it's not coming to me."

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it does, especially if you're planning to continue seeing him and throwing your pussy at him." You deeply sigh.

"Jungkook." You take another glance at Jin, but this time his smile had slightly faded. "Look, I'm about to get home, okay? Just text me where to meet you."

"Alrighty, we're continuing this conversation though. See you soon." And with that, the call ended. It was silent for a minute and you were unsure if you should apologize, or bring up the whole thing about Jungkook.

"Ryujin doing okay?" He asks, giving you a small smile. You simply nod and look back out the window without saying anything else. Maybe you both just didn't know how to approach the Jungkook thing. You sure as hell didn't, not around Jin.

You finally get to your apartment building, with Jin sending you off with a quick peck on the lips. You take a long, hot shower before hopping into some warmer and more decent clothes for your walk with Ryujin. You also had just remembered to text Jungkook back now that you were alone.

[y/n] 9:47am: sorry, had such a long night and knocked out. but yes, got home safely. i'm glad you had a great birthday. :)

[jungkook] 9:53am: she's up! goodmorning beautiful. hope you're still down for our date.

[jungkook] 9:54am: (sends picture of him laying down in a hoodie and glasses which makes you smile to yourself cause he's cute as fuck)

[y/n] 9:56am: of course i am. just let me know time and place.

[jungkook] 9:58am: time? yes. place? no. i'll keep it a surprise. :-) is it okay if i call you later?

[y/n] 10:02am: sure!

[jungkook] 10:03am: k, i'll talk to you later then. gotta run errands and stop by my brother's spot really quickly. have a good day today!

Whew, just imagine if you had run into him at Jin's house. What would you do then? Lie and tell him you came over for some homework help? Bitch, please.

The heavenly being above was on your team right now, but you knew that wouldn't last long with all this sinning.

After getting a good, quick shower in, you hurriedly got into your car and drove off to your destination, making it just on time to catch Ryujin stepping out of her car. She already has coffee for you, so you both start walking around Lake Merritt, revisiting last night's festivities and the fun you both had. The cold air was still nipping at your skin, cause you to rub your hand on your neck to try and provide some warmth. Suddenly, Ryujin grips your wrist and furrows her eyebrows at your neck.

"Y/N, what is that?" She points. Then it suddenly hits you - the hickeys Seokjin left on your neck. "Are those hickeys?!" She gasped.

Well, fuck.

"Keep your voice down." You say as you zip your jacket all the way up.

"Did you and Jungkook fuck last night? Is that where you actually were? You didn't run errands or go to the gym early this morning, did you? You actually just ended up going back home from his spot early this morning?" She threw questions left and right, her eyes wide and very suggestive.

"No, no! I didn't go home with Jungkook."

"So, did you guys do shit in the club or something? I'm confused, but also impressed if that's the case cause it's bold. I didn't know you got down like that, but I kind of like it." She pinched your side.

"No." She raises an eyebrow.

"Then why the fuck do you have hickeys on your neck? Who else could you have—" She stops in her tracks, hand over her mouth as she slowly approaches you again. "Y/N, who gave you those hickeys?" You simply look at her, your eyes already giving off the answer. "D-did you hook up with Seokjin?" She pulls out his first name, knowing 'Mr.Kim' was not appropriate for this matter.

"Yes."

[bloodpenned]

plz plz plz can you write m!whitney skullfucking pc

wordcount: 2.5k (can’t believe this is the first time i write an actual fic on here.) cw: noncon, detailed ero guro / gore porn, eye trauma, drugging, knives, vomit mention, needle mention, degradation, victim blaming.

or: whitney fucks your eye socket and prepares you for the act. don’t read this to upset or trigger yourself, please.

Since all of your holes have been used by others, Whitney makes one for himself.

“Look at you- You can barely keep your fucking head up, slut.”

The voice drifts to you from far away, a figure leaning over the ice you’re trapped under. Where am I?, you ask, but all your vocal cords produce is a gurgle. Your limbs are made of cement and frozen in place. Letting yourself be dragged back into the depths of unconsciousness is much easier than staying afloat. Through trembling eyelids, you barely make out the shape of the person in front of you. Their legs, to be precise. Pain shoots through your scalp and you jolt, finally present enough for the ties around your wrists and ankles to register in your mind, the cold wall you’re leaning against. That it’s Whitney, because who fucking else would it be, yanking you up by your hair. Your tongue still refuses to move. 

“Follow.” His voice feigns disinterest. Yet he keeps shuffling, leaning his weight more on one leg, then the other again. He holds his hand in front of your face, moving it from side to side. Your head is so fuzzy you see no reason to disobey. By the time you’ve caught up with him to the right, he’s already back the other way. Your eyelids droop. He laughs. “God, you’re out of it. Poor you, did I gave you a little too much? You can’t say I’ve ever underestimated you.”

As soon as his grip loosens, your head drops and black dots litter your vision. Drool spills from your mouth. Something bad is about to happen, there’s no other explanation for this. His hands will end up all over your body again. But there’s no chatter of his friends, no flashes of cameras, so different from the usual that you don’t know what to expect. The world fades out, before flickering back in the middle of a sentence.

“...pay me back. Got that? Good.” The hand is back in your hair, keeping you steady. He’s digging around in his pocket. “If you weren’t such a whore, I wouldn’t have to do this. Did you think I wouldn’t see those pictures? Wouldn’t know when my slut’s gagging around someone else? I promised I would beat some sense into you if you didn’t listen, so here we are.”

Whitney’s found what he had been looking for. There’s something in his hand, moving toward your face too quickly to make out. Everything’s so blurry that even while squinting, you can’t immediately tell what it is. You nearly go crosseyed trying to figure it out. A handle clenched in his fist, gray, reflecting surface, ending in a sharp point-

A knife.

“You’re a fucking cumbrain already, but I’ll give you one too.”

You watch the situation unfold from the back of your skull. This is happening to someone else, anyone except you. It’s a movie, and a bad one at that. You can’t pinch your arm to wake yourself up. Whitney had hurt you before, sure, with his bare hands. Never like this. He’s always made fun of Kylar for having to resort to knives, why would he use one now? Is it just a threat? It has to be. Then again, you’re so disoriented you don’t stand a sliver of a chance against him. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, so loud it makes your head throb. The furthest your abilities go is to shake your head and force a whimper from your throat, rubbing your wrists raw on the zip tie. Whitney presses cold steel against your cheek. You try to spit at him, but you can’t put any force behind it. It dribbles down your chin in a slow stream. 

Whitney barks out a laugh. “What the fuck are you, a dog?” The knife digs into your skin, a gentle push away from slicing you open. “Don’t get to get too excited yet, we haven’t even started, slut.” He slides the blade up to your bottom eyelid, leaving a shallow cut. (Your brain is fuzzy. Your cheeks are warm, burning- Are you blushing? Is the wetness rolling down your face a tear?) Your fingers twitch, your teeth grind together, every muscle pulled tight like a bowstring. 

His breathing is laboured, eyes boring into yours, expression blank for a mere moment. Whitney, as you know him from school, is all but empty. He’s of scoffing and snarling, of laughter and grins- This is nothing you recognize. Your gut twists. Every instinct in your body is screeching at the top of its lungs for you to run. At the same time, another part tells you to stay as still as possible, as if you will simply fade out of existence if you don’t move. (But it’s okay, because none of this is real, and you’re at the orphanage in bed curled up under the covers, and you’ll wake up late and rush to get your uniform to not miss the bus and you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine-) Whitney’s tongue darts out to trace his upper lip, his fingers turning white around the handle. 

The next, there is a blow of air against your eye before pure, indescribable agony accompanied by a wet squelch. You’re dying, you’re dying, you’re dying, it’s over- Half of your face has been blown off, your brain is exposed for all to see and poke and prod, your lungs collapse with every breath, your throat spasms around vomit. What’s left of your right side of vision is a red and black pulsating blur. The screams, the sole outburst you’re capable of, are mere groans in the back of your throat. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish on land. Blood, sweat, tears, pus, slime- You wouldn’t know. Something oozes down your face, thick mucus, making a mess on your lap. You’re warm, you’re cold, sweat thick underneath your clothes. Everything is wet. Everything is hot.

A hand is on your head, stroking. The sensation dissapears into and becomes one with the pain, the thing that melts everything else away. “There you go, you’re being so good! But I’m not done yet.” He speaks to you in the tone reserved purely for dogs. From the corner of your good eye, you can see him reaching his fist back and pounds it against the handle, your entire world dissolving into nothing as it hits.

When you wake up, you do so to a palpitating heart that’s skipping beats left and right, to a convulsing body, to spit frothing at your mouth and a needle in your leg. The gag in your mouth rubs against your tongue and tastes of sweat. Whitney has discorded the knife, left it at your feet. Your eyeball looks like scrambled egg white on one end, a sloppy mess, and you gag. At one point or another, you will have to come to term with the fact that you’re never going to see from it again.

“Can’t have you leaving before the party’s started.” Your head whips around, the sensation of something sloshing inside your eye socket immediately making you regret it. Wind blows straight into the wound and causes you to ear up. He’s on your right. Somewhere. What you assume to be the syringe falls to the ground with a clatter. There’s no way he isn’t standing there, in the void he created, on purpose. You would’ve preferred to be really fucking dead right now. Let him rape your corpse, at least you wouldn’t have to be there to notice it. Whatever he injected you with, it’s all so much sharper now. The lights are brighter, every little step he takes ringing in your ears, your right eye (or the slurry that’s left of it) aflame. You rock back and forth to shuffle further away from him, but you’re already backed against a wall and the movement makes the blood in your skull slosh alongside it.

“Gotta check if you’re wet enough for me. Thank me later, slut.” Whitney pulls on your eyelashes, the tip of his finger teasing the hole. Once in a while, it dips into the wound, your nerves tingling in anticipation at the near touch. Breath hitching every time, your brain can’t comprehend what’s exactly happening to you. Your heart pounds in your ears, your limbs keep twitching against your will. Now that you can, you want to struggle, but you’re so scared of that pain, terrified that he could choose to take the other one as well.

All you want is for this to be over. You just want to be home. As flawed of a home it is, it’s still the one place you can think to return to. (Robin will be there, waiting for you. They always have. Could you still keep up with them during games, now that you’re like this? Bailey’s presence, suffocating as it is, at least keeps you safe from intruders. How pissed off are they going to be, now that you're a damaged ware?)

“Can’t you sit still for one fucking second? You wanna know what it feels like when I slip so badly?” Your head jerks to the side against your will, foot hitting his ankle. “I guess you do, huh? But, fuck- You keep writhing around, maybe I should give the needy whore what they want. You’re soaked, that’s for sure.”

Whitney pulls away, his fingers coated a pale red. Using your hair as a rag, he smears the fluids in it, tugging on it once for good measure. He takes a step back, descends back outside your field of vision. There’s the rustling of fabric, unbuckling of a belt, a zipper being undone. You begin to plead through your gag, repeating muffled, incomprehensible words, because please, anything but this, not right now, not ever, hasn’t he done enough, isn’t he satisfied, he’s already ruined you enough, please, just please-

“It’s cute you think you have a choice.”

There’d been a nagging suspicion in the back of your head that it would come down to this. Every meeting with Whitney would end up leading down the same path, but this time... You choke on your breaths, chest heaving with sobs. With every shock of your shoulders, more heat leaks out of your eyes, your entire face turning into one throbbing mess. You squeeze your eyes shut. (There’s no way you can move the right eyelid, the knife has torn straight through it. All it is now is limp meat, hanging on by a thread.) His dick presses against your cheek. Fucking hell, why does he have to be so big too? There’s ringing in your ears as he leaves a trail of precum, mingling with the mess already there. His scent overpowered by the metallic smell of blood. Why can’t you just pass out again? But you’re still twitching, thoughts racing faster than you can keep track of.

“You’ve been asking for this, don’t try to deny it. I’m not stupid. Well, you’ve got my attention now. You better be grateful.” He misses the first time, the head of his dick rubbing against your eyebrow. Whitney curses underneath his breath. Trembling fingers tug your eyelids as far apart as possible and you hate it, you hate this so fucking much, you want someone to come by here to save you, you want to sink through the floor, you want to die.

He sucks in a breath through grit teeth, and hits his mark. You’re not sure how much he crammed inside your skull, but all of it was too much, too cruel. The screaming is clear through your bounds, raking your throat raw. Whichever way you move, his cock stays lodged in between the bone. The muscles snap and tear, the bones crack, the flesh, like the tight fit that it is, clings around his dick, and he groans as he pushes himself further inside. An impossible amount of more fat and mucus and slime comes free, clogging your nose. The back of your head slams against the wall with every movement, but it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t compare. 

There’s nothing else. There can be nothing else. Your mind is full and empty at the same time. He’s all you can think about, he’s fucking the memory of him into your brain, leaving his permanent mark. Is this what he wanted? You’re being dissected, pulled apart, the creases of your brain violated. He’s saying things, (tight, mess, slut, enjoying, loud.), but he’s pulling out and the scrape of the warm flesh makes the scenery blur. Your throat feels like it was pulled across sandpaper.

The pressure dissipates and you cry in pure relief. But, a moment later, he’s back in and down a slightly different path at a slightly different angle and there’s more snapping, more gushes of fluid. The only thing that will ever fit there again will be him. The perfect little cocksleeve. He’s pushing up against something and you don’t know what, but every time he twitches and brushes against it, your entire vision blacks out. Where the pain reached a crescendo before, it’s turned around to be almost numbing now. Are your nerves torn up? Are you dying?

“Open your mouth. Wait, fuck-” He’s breathless, stuttering over his words. His dick twitches and scrapes against bone. Trembling fingers remove the gag from your mouth. If this were literally any other situation, you might have been almost proud to have turned him into such a wreck. “Stick your tongue out and it’ll be over. Done.”

You latch onto those words like a lifeline. No matter how it ends, you just want it to be over. Without much more than a second of delay you do as he asks, your good eye rolling up to try and look at him. Considering how full your head is, you hardly notice the strings of cum being added to the pool, until some of it leaks through your nose and onto your tongue. He puts one hand on your head, shaking it until more follows. (Though his cum isn’t the only thing there.)

Strings of blood and slime stick to his dick like drool as he pulls out. You hate him. You hate yourself. You hate this fucking town, and you hate every piece of shit in it. Your brain is a cacophony of screaming, of visions of growing fangs and claws and tearing him to shreds, of burning this whole town down. All you do is stare up without really looking, eyes glazed over. You’re tired, so unbelievably tired. All you want to do is rest, even if it’s while bleeding out in some shitty alleyway. His voice drifts to you from far away, smile clear in his tone.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

An eye for an eye has never sounded so appealing before.

[nnightskiess]

‧₊° 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

‧₊° 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐲/𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

Toni grabbed another handful of pebbles from the beach and played with them in her hands before throwing one out into the ocean every few steps. The sun was on full blast and started to hurt her forehead and thus she was on her way to the little cave that would shield her from the sun — the one she’d found on another stroll. She hadn’t run off this time, Dot had actually told everyone to wait until the sun was less vicious before continuing their work. Toni hadn’t felt like joining the others and apparently neither had Y/N, who had disappeared the moment Dot told them to take a break. 

God knows what Y/N was up to now that she had some free time. What would anyone even do on an abandoned island? No matter how hard Toni had tried, Y/N was a hard one to read. She wasn’t as open as the others and kept to herself most of the time, but never disrespected anyone, or treated anyone badly, for that matter. She helped out whenever needed and seemed particularly interested in staying close to Toni, no matter the situation. She hadn’t shied away or looked at her differently when Toni had had one of her anger outbursts and that, in combination with her silent glances and soft smiles, had somehow reeled Toni in. The next opportunity that would arise, Toni would for sure try and start a real conversation with the girl. So far, they had only exchanged ‘thank you’s and ‘can you help me with this’s. 

Toni threw the last pebble as far away as she could, watching until the ripple had disappeared. If only their problems on the island, and in the real world, would fade away just as smoothly. She sighed and threw her head back, trying to tame the curly baby hairs on her head and simultaneously hold a hand to her blistering forehead. This heat was no joke. 

She wrinkled her nose and squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to look at where the sun stood right now. Probably three more hours before it would take away some of its heat. 

Toni reached the small beach and sat down on one of the rocks after splashing some seawater in her face and neck. She took off her damp shoes and socks and buried her feet in the sand. Now that she was finally alone, her thoughts caught up with her and she suddenly realised how Marty had slowly started to slip away. Their friendship had never faltered before, so why would a stupid island suddenly be able to break them apart? If she didn’t have Marty, she would have no one. Sure, the others were nice, but if it weren’t for the need to work together to survive, she would be able to do without them. If she had Marty by her side, she’d be fine with whatever challenge the world would throw at her. Then there was Y/N, who seemed to be someone Toni needed around at all times, too. But if it hadn’t been for Y/N sticking around, would Toni have ever found that out? Probably, yes. Because even though Y/N was quiet most of the times, Toni always caught her eyes slipping and landing on the girl. She always looked at Y/N first when she made a joke, a suggestion or when she did something wrong— ready to see the judgement or disappointment, only for it to never show on Y/N’s face. It brought her a certain form of calmness she needed. Y/N’s smile would not only tell Toni that whatever had happened with the situation at hand would work itself out, but it would also soothe the many burns and scars Toni had gathered over the years.

Toni sat down on the damp sand and started to make random shapes in the sand with her hands, feeling more relaxed as she let her mind go blank. Moments like these were a necessity for her, moments where she could just walk away for a while and be by herself to not get riled up by anything or anyone else. But her mind couldn’t completely shut down this time, as it thought of Y/N. Toni was thinking of what to ask her. She’d been so quiet all this time, how was she supposed to know what topic to bring up? Y/N had never mentioned a favourite band or what she liked to do in her free time. Though Toni would never admit it out loud, this made her terrified to talk to the girl. What if she asked exactly that what would upset Y/N? Something that would spark up a bad memory, especially now that they all needed some more positivity and hope? She couldn’t mess up her first shot of a real conversation with the girl, she was too careful to scare away the only other person who seemed unfazed by her anger issues.

She let out a deep sigh, put on her shoes again after dusting off the sand and decided to walk a bit further— she needed a change of scenery to get it out of her head. However, Toni didn’t get far when her breath hitched at seeing the sight in front of her. She saw Y/N, at least she thought it was Y/N, seeing as she was wearing the same clothes, floating in the ocean a few meters off the coast, face down. Toni’s heart sank to her stomach and she was sure her sunburned face was as white as a ghost right now. 

“Y/N!” 

She sprinted into the ocean as fast as she could, though her shoes sunk into the sand with every step. The girl still face down, floating around. Toni swam the last part and closed their distance, immediately grabbing the girl’s upper body to try and turn her around— to let her breathe. She had expected Y/N to stay unconscious, having to carry her out the water, but the girl gasped loudly and moved her arms and legs around frantically, frightened by the surprise. Toni’s eyes widened as she let go immediately, unsure of what the hell was happening. 

Y/N removed the pink goggles on her face and looked at Toni with the same wide eyes,

“Toni?!”

“Are you okay?!”

The two had now drifted more to shore, where they could stand just on their tippy toes.

“What’s wrong?”

Toni furrowed her eyebrows, “What’s wrong? I thought you had fucking died!” Her voice cracked as she raised it.

“O-Oh...” Y/N looked down for a split second, enough to make Toni panic she had scared her off, too. “I was just trying to stay still to look at the fish...”

Toni’s frown disappeared and she smiled softly at the girl, realising there was nothing to be worried about, “You scared the living hell out of me, fuck you.” She let out a breathy chuckle. 

Y/N presented her with an apologetic smile and offered Toni her hand to help her out of the water. 

“Sorry... Thanks for trying to save me...”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m glad you had fun, though.” She tilted her head to get a better look at the girl.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, “Well, up until you scared me, I did. I thought you were some sea creature or something.”

“Yeah, for good reason.” Toni smiled, “I could’ve been. Please be careful next time, yeah?” 

“Okay.”

“So...” Toni chuckled softly, readjusting her wet shirt, partly also because she suddenly became too nervous to say something else and decided to let Y/N take the lead, hoping she could get away with messing with her shirt a tad longer. She crossed her fingers the girl would say something that Toni knew a thing or two about.

Y/N gave Toni a sheepish smile when they locked eyes and looked back at the sea for a split second, “You know, I used to go snorkeling with my parents when we went to Egypt once. In the Red Sea, have you heard of it?” 

Toni hesitantly shook her head, cursing at herself for not paying enough attention in class or she might’ve been able to talk along. 

“Should I tell you a story about it?” 

The girl nodded softly as she followed Y/N’s lead and sat down next to her in the sand. 

“Well, I used to be really scared of the sea— in ways I still am, especially in deep waters, but this depth is just fine— so my mom signed me up for a snorkeling tour with a few other tourists.” Y/N snorted and shook her head at the memory, “It was a nightmare.”

Toni listened closely, surprised by the new, more open Y/N that was unfolding right in front of her eyes. She had already said more than the past few days combined.

“I was too scared to go any further when the water reached my waist and I just waddled around through the water a bit, looking ridiculous with my goggles on. Mind you, I was nine... or something...” 

Toni laughed softly at the visualisation she made in her head of a little Y/N pouting in the water.

“When my mom found out I had spent the hour doing nothing while she’d paid a good amount of money for it, I got scolded so badly.” Y/N let out a soft giggle but Toni furrowed her eyebrows. Why would anyone scold a girl who was just scared? Even worse, why would her mom even sign her up if she knew she was afraid— it seemed like pure torture.

“She made me do it again a few years later and I must say, if it hadn’t been for the gorgeous instructor I was trying to impress, I’m sure I wouldn’t have gone any further than my waist either.” Toni smiled when Y/N tried to see her reaction. “And in the end, it wasn’t that bad at all.”

Toni cleared her throat, wanting to listen to her talk longer, “What did it look like? Underwater, I mean. With the... fish?”

“The water was so clear. There were a ton of different fish, tiny ones and larger ones, though I still tried to stay away from those.” She laughed. “Some had plain colours and others were a bright yellow or red. And so many different type of corals.”

Y/N’s voice died down, and she looked at her lap, thinking of the distant memory that seemed so far away now, and not only because of the years that had passed. Toni noticed the change in character immediately and bumped the girl’s shoulder in a playful manner, “Did you find that here too before I tried to save you?”

“No.” Y/N looked at her, “Not even close.” She suddenly seemed to realise how close the two of them were sitting and refused to look into Toni’s eyes, growing very conscious and nervous. “But I just wanted to clear my head and feel like I was in Egypt for a moment, not in this terrible nightmare.”

“Yeah, I get that...” Toni mumbled in response. “I was actually... trying to do the same thing, you know? Take a walk...” 

“Did it work?”

“Not really.”

Y/N hummed in reply and stared out at the horizon, hoping to see a lifeboat sail their way. But the horizon was empty and dull. The sound of the birds, trees and waves replaced their words as both girls sat in each other’s company. Toni looked at Y/N’s side profile for a few seconds, debating what to do or say next. 

“You know, I like that we talked.” She decided on saying. 

“Really?”

Toni nodded sincerely.

“I talked way too much, you barely said anything.”

“Didn’t even notice.” She shrugged, “I liked listening to you.”

“To my pathetic, poetic story about Egyptian fish?” Y/N rose an eyebrow and challenged the girl. Toni smiled slightly but remained honest, “Yeah. It distracted me from all the other shit for a while. So, thanks.”

Y/N smiled shyly, “Anytime.” 

A few seconds passed before Toni opened her mouth again, “You’re always so quiet. Why’s that?” 

Toni’s blunt question took Y/N off guard, though she did her best to quickly form an honest reply.

“I just... I don’t... I never had a great experience with friends. Better to not have them than get left out or hurt, right? Especially when we’re already in this... weird environment.” She decided to not brush things under the carpet.

“I suppose...” Toni shrugged nonchalantly, she decided against asking further. Besides, she was kind of biased, seeing as she often tended to choose to be alone, too. Then again, why did she stick with Toni when she didn’t want to have any friends? The thoughts made her head hurt and thus she started to absentmindedly play with the sand. 

“I’ve been on my own for years, I reckon I’ll survive another few days. Don’t you think?”

“You don’t have to be, you know.” Toni looked up and squinted her eyes when the sun blinded her. Y/N smiled genuinely, realising what she meant. 

“Thanks, Toni.”

They lingered for a moment in a comfortable silence.

“So, um...” Toni started, bringing her hands up to comb through her hair, “Should we head back?”

Y/N accepted Toni’s help to stand up and smiled softy, nodding in return. The two talked and laughed softly as they walked back to camp, both girls happy that they probably had just gotten a new shoulder to lean on.

[moon-light-jukebox]

Risk - [Hotch x Reader]

Summary: Things on a case go badly because reader took a risk. The entire team is mad at her...but no one more so than her unit chief.

Pairing: Hotch x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Content Warnings: Rough sex, mild brat taming, pussy slapping, choking, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, Dom!Hotch.

Rating: Explicit

Request prompt: Could you please write a smut (hotch x fem!reader) where reader doesn’t listen to hotch’s orders in a case and she almost gets killed and on the jet on the way home there’s a big ass argument including everyone and it's whole BAU against reader and when they land back home reader is super mad and hotch tells her hes going to take her home and then they have angry sex

A/n: I didn't edit this as thoroughly as I usually do. All mistakes are mine. Hopefully the smut makes up for it. 😌 And I hope the anon that requested this likes it!

-- Risk --

The paramedics had ignored me the multiple times I insisted that I was fine. Luckily, they seemed to agree that I didn’t need to go to the hospital. It was still early enough in the day that the team might be able to fly back home if the local police didn’t need our help wrapping everything up.

I wasn't looking forward to the ass-chewing I knew I was about to get, but I couldn't regret my actions. I'd do it all again, even if that meant feeling a bullet burn across my upper arm.

Once I was released, I made my way over to the SUVs, seeing only Prentiss and JJ standing by them.

“Where is everybody?” I asked once I was close enough.

Both women stiffened at the sound of my voice. Prentiss turned away like I hadn’t spoken. JJ shifted her weight from foot to foot awkwardly.

“They’re wrapping things up with the local police,” the blonde woman answered. “Do you not have to go to the hospital?”

“Just a graze.”

Her eyebrows rose slightly, her lips pressing into a tight line.

“I’ll get the others; maybe we can get the fuck out of here,” Prentiss muttered, walking away without so much as looking at me.

I probably deserved that.

--

The entire ride to the airstrip was filled with tense silence. Even Rossi wasn’t looking at me. Despite the awkwardness, I still couldn’t bring myself to regret my decision. A 12-year-old girl was going home safe tonight because of me; that was all that mattered.

Everyone else could just scratch their mad spot, as my grandma would say.

I was the last one to board the jet, already dreading the 2-hour flight home from Atlanta. JJ and Reid were on the couch, Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss were in the 4 chairs around the small table.

All that suited me just fine, as I really just wanted to go home. I took my seat at the back of the plane, near the section that led to the bathroom. I was prepared to put on my headphones and keep my eyes closed for the entire flight home.

The plane had been in the air for about 20 minutes when one of them finally snapped. I wasn’t surprised that it was Morgan.

“What the fuck were you thinking, y/l/n?” He demanded, his voice low and harsh.

I didn’t bother turning my gaze away from the window. “I was thinking I needed to save Annabelle Richards, who is home safe now. Job done.”

Prentiss scoffed then muttered something under her breath.

“Kiddo,” Rossi began gently. “Yeah, you did the job. But you almost died. You ran in there like a hot head and almost got yourself killed.”

I couldn’t not look at Rossi. He sounded genuinely upset, and the older man had always been unfailingly kind to me in the months since I’d joined the team.

"I know," I conceded, meeting his gaze head-on. "But I couldn't see another way."

“So, you were just going to give up your life? We had no reason to believe they’d release her.” Morgan fumed, back in the game.

“It was our best shot.”

“No, it fucking wasn’t! If you hadn’t been so stupid you would have seen that!”

"Oh, very mature, Morgan. I didn't know we'd resorted to name-calling."

“He’s right,” JJ said, her eyes shifting from Morgan to me. “You were stupid and reckless. You almost died. If Hotch hadn’t taken that shot in time, you would have.”

I licked my lips, my eyes closing briefly. “I understand why you’re upset-“

“No.”

All the air in the room seemed to still at that one word. The voice we had all been waiting for had finally tagged into the match, The Entire BAU vs. Y/n Y/l/n.

I wasn’t prepared for Hotch to fucking stand up and start walking towards the back of the plane, his eyes boring into me. “No, you don’t understand why we’re upset.” His hand gripped the top of the seat in front of me, his knuckles were white with the force of his hold.

“Hotch-“

“Shut UP!” He pointed his index finger at me. “You don’t get to talk. You behaved like a spoiled child. I don’t know how they do things in Richmond, but you’re in fucking Quantico now. You’re a member of my team, and I cannot have rogue agents on my team.”

“What the fuck did you want me to do, Hotch?”

His eyes hardened even more. “I expect all of my agents to stick to the fucking hostage protocol!’

I was on my feet before I even realized I was moving. “She was 12-years-old, and she was screaming!’

“Because she was scared, y/n! She was a child trapped in a building with a mad man and she was scared! We had the profile! We all knew he wasn’t going to hurt her! She was his endgame!”

My fists were balled up at my side. “I couldn’t risk that.”

“Then maybe I can’t risk having you on this team. Sit down, I’ll deal with you when we land.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he snapped again. “That’s a fucking order!”

As you would expect, the remaining hour of the flight home was completely calm and filled with no tension whatsoever.

Not.

Spencer and I were the last ones to get off the plane; he was the only one who hadn’t spoken to me. “Are you mad at me too?”

He licked his lips, considering his words. “I’m not mad like the rest of them. I understand why you felt like you had to do it. I’ve broken protocol like that too. But I am mad because you’re my friend. And because of how you acted, I almost lost my friend.”

Out of all the words hurled at me tonight, Spencer’s actually cut me.

“Reid,” I mumbled out.

“Give them time,” he said, shrugging his bag up on his shoulder before walking away.

Time was not given to me, however. I was standing in front of the elevators when someone called my name from the bullpen.

I turned, giving my unit chief a blank stare. “Yeah?”

“Are you leaving?”

I blinked, then pointed to the elevator.

He wasn’t amused. “Are you going to take the train home?”

“That’s the plan,” I informed him, turning back to face the elevator, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I’m taking you home.”

My head jerked back. “No, you’re not.”

He took a step towards me, his face was set in a scowl that sent criminal running, and he towered over me. “You disobeyed a direct order twice today; I’m still debating on whether or not to put this bullshit in your file and you were shot.”

I mean…he’s not wrong.

“You’re not going to ride a train for 45 minutes when I can get you home in 20.”

I sighed, too tired to fight. “Whatever you say, Sir.”

--

The longer I sat in the front seat of Hotch’s car, the madder I got. How dare he yell at me in front of the entire time for doing my job? Where the fuck did he get off intimidating me into getting into a car with him? Threatening to put shit in my file when all I did was save a little girl’s life.

“If you have something to say, say it.”

I shouldn’t be surprised that he picked up on my mood shifting. “I thought members of the team didn’t profile each other.”

“You’re not acting like a member of this team, so why should I treat you like one?”

I had to bite down on my tongue to hold the string of curses inside my mouth. This smug mother fucker had absolutely no right to talk to me like that.

What had started out as cold anger now roared to life in my veins; I could feel my hands starting to shake.

Thankfully, he was true to his word and got me home in 20 minutes. The car hadn’t even come to a complete stop before I was undoing my seat belt and grabbing my bag. I shoved the door open, turning around to face him while he still sat in the car, his eyes fixed on me.

“Thanks for the ride, Boss,” I spat out. “Since I’m clearly not compatible with your team, you’ll have my transfer request on your desk first thing in the morning.”

He opened his mouth to say something; probably something that would have made me even more mad. But I cut him off, I couldn’t stop myself. I was fucking seething.

"Fuck you, and your perfect team," I said, slamming the door behind me.

I didn’t want to hear another word from that man, so I darted into my building, taking the three flights of stairs rather than waiting for the elevator. I was still so fucking mad. And what’s more, I actually think I was a little hurt.

I expected the bullet wound to hurt, but I never expected the entire team’s reaction to hurt worse.

Reaching my door, I fished my keys out of my bag, more than ready to get this day over with.

I was so fucking distracted I didn’t realize anyone was behind me until my door was open. A large hand grabbed me by my hair and shoved me inside. I tried to struggle, but his other hand clapped over my mouth while he kicked the door shut behind him.

My pure fucking terror only lasted for a few moments. The man turned me, slamming my back against my front door.

“Hotch! What the fuck! You scared the shit out of me!”

His eyes were the darkest I’d ever seen them; my normally composed supervisor was shaking with fury.

“Good, then you know how it fucking felt to watch you run into that house today,” he sneered, his body pressing me against my door.

Adrenaline was pumping through my blood, my breath coming in fast pants. Hotch’s body was flush against mine, his eyes wild and his breathing just as fast.

“Is that why you’re here, Aaron?” I taunted.

His eyes flashed at the sound of his first name leaving my mouth. Those large hands that were on me a moment ago had been resting on the door, but he brought his left hand down so quickly. He placed it on my throat, his thumb resting against my jaw.

“You know why I’m here.”

“I know why you’re pretending to be here. Your excuse for being here is that I fucked up today. But that’s not why you’re here.” I lined forward, dropping my voice into a mock whisper. “I can feel why you’re really here, Aaron.”

And I could. I didn’t have to be a profiler to see how blown his pupils were, to see how his eyes kept straying down to my lips. I especially didn’t need to be a profiler to feel what was pressed against my body.

His thumb dropped down to the other side of my throat before it squeezed, cutting off just a bit of my blood flow. His right hand came down from the door to squeeze in between our bodies, going right for the button of my pants. I was stunned when I felt it pop open and the zipper lower right before his fingers ghosted over the skin right above the top of my panties.

“What am I going to find when I slip my hand into your panties, y/n?” His breath skimmed over my face; his lips so close to mine. “Do you expect me to believe your little cunt isn’t positively soaked for me?”

“It’s not,” I bit out, stubborn to the end.

Aaron just smirked at me, his fingers moving inside of my panties, down, down, down, until I felt one blunt finger run across my slit, not even spreading me open.

His nose brushed against mine. “You feel pretty wet to me, princess.”

I felt my core throb at his words, but I couldn’t let him win. “I’m not your fucking princess.”

“No,” he mused. “You’re nothing but a little fucking brat.” He removed his hand from my panties, bringing it around to hook under the back of my thigh. “And since you want to act like a brat, I’m going to treat you like a brat.”

That was all the warning I got before his lips crashed against mine, his hand leaving my throat to grab my other thigh. He lifted my feet off the floor, forcing my legs to wrap around his waist.

Aaron Hotchner’s kiss was as intense as every other part of him. He ate at my mouth, biting my bottom lip before running his tongue over it. He ground his hardness against my pussy, smirking against my mouth when I moaned.

“Such a needy fucking girl,” was what he said before he lifted me totally in his arm, stepping away from the door. He walked through the living room.

“First door the left,” I mumbled.

He chuckled while he pushed my bedroom door open. “So, you’re enough of a brat to fight me, but enough of a slut to direct me to your room?”

“Fuck you,” I bit out.

Aaron tossed me on the bed, his hands gripping the waist of both my pants and panties before he yanked them down my legs. He was on top of me a moment later, his hands tearing at my shirt, ripping the buttons off.

“You’re going to regret that.”

A tiny shiver of terror went down my body at his tone, because I believed him.

He yanked the cups of my bra down, his scalding hot mouth wrapping around my nipple at the same time that two of his fingers sunk into me.

"Fuck!" I shouted my back arching, pushing me into him.

I felt his teeth graze over my nipple while his fingers continue to move inside me. His middle and ring finger were pumping into my pussy, the heel of his hand grinding against my clit.

“Aaron,” I whined, my hips squirming. His mouth lifted from my breast, kissing up my chest until he got to my neck.

“What do you want, baby? Do you want me to make you cum?”

I nodded my head frantically, my hips trying to rock against him.

“Why should I let you cum?” His fingers curled inside of me brushing over my g-spot, pulling a loud moan from me.

I felt my orgasm rushing towards me, threatening to consume me right when his fingers pulled out of me.

“Oh my god,” I whined out, my hand moving down to try and rub my clit. I was right there.

His hand was like a vice on my wrist, stilling my movements. “Ah-ah, no. Bratty little girls don’t get to cum.”

“But I’m so close,” I pleaded, my voice a pathetic whimper.

His lips brushed against mine, softly, teasing. “If you want me to let you cum, then you need to prove you can be a good girl.”

Hearing Aaron Hotchner say the words “good girl” was almost enough to send me over the edge.

“Can you be a good girl, y/n?”

“Yes,” I answered, trying to press my lips more firmly against his.

Without warning his hand moved quickly, slapping against my pussy.

“Fuck!” I shrieked, unprepared for the sensation but so desperate for more.

“Yes, what?”

"Yes sir!" I corrected tears of frustration in my eyes.

He moved off of me then, unbuttoning his shirt before pulling it off his shoulders. “Finish taking your clothes off,” he instructed.

I moved to comply quickly, wincing slightly when I pulled my arm out of my sleeve. My bicep was wrapped in thick gauze, the skin around it looking bruised.

Aaron watched me while he took his pants off. “It’s so hard for me to look at you. Because I see you hurting like that and all I want to do is lay you on this bed and treat you like a princess.” He was naked now, and I tried not to stare at him. I’d seen him in workout clothes, I knew he was well muscled. But I did not know he was so toned and well defined.

His cock was hard, the head wet with precum, and it was bigger than I had expected.

I scooted up the bed when he climbed on, stalking towards me. “I just want to eat your pretty pussy until you cum all over me. Then I want to slide inside you and make you feel so good.”

Aaron’s body was over mine, his arms caging me in. “But I can’t do any of that can I?”

He moved away before I could answer. “No, I can’t. So, you’re going to prove to me that you can follow orders. I’m going to lay on this bed, and you’re going to put that bratty little mouth all over my cock. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” I said, scrambling to my knees.

“Such a needy little thing,” he repeated, lying on his back.

One hand braced on the bed, the other reached out to wrap around him. If things were different, I would have teased him, but this fucking need in my body was burning too hot.

I wrapped my lips around the tip of his dick, hollowing out my cheeks, relishing in the guttural moan he let out. I slowly started to bob my head, taking more of him each time I went back down.

“I should have known you’d be good at this,” Aaron groaned out, one hand coming up to grip my hair, guiding my motions. “That smart fucking mouth of yours. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about your pretty lips wrapped around my dick.”

I moaned against him, rubbing my thighs together at his words.

“You’ve thought about that too, haven’t you dirty girl?” He was lifting his hips now, making shallow thrust into my mouth. “Come on, baby. Take it all the way down. I know you can do it.”

I tried to relax my throat, fighting my gag reflex as tears pricked the corners of my eyes. “Come on, sweet girl. Try for me. Be my good girl so I can finally fuck that wet fucking pussy of yours.”

His words spurred me on, I squeezed my thumb in my fist, moving my head all the way down. I felt him hit the back of my throat; I started to gag, but I swallowed reflexively around him.

“Oh, my fucking god,” he groaned, pumping into my mouth a few more times before pulling me off of him. “There’s my good girl,” he praised, pulling my face up to his. Aaron pressed kisses to the sides of my mouth before his lips slid against mine.

He moved quickly, rolling me onto my back, shoving my thighs apart so he could settle between them. One of my hands fisted in my bedsheets, the other braced on his arm. My eyes were fixed on where our bodies were about to join. Aaron gripped his cock, moving it up and down my slit, coating himself in my arousal.

“Wrap your legs around me, baby,” he murmured, urging my legs higher up his abdomen.

I groaned when I felt the head of his cock slip inside me.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking tight, y/n.”

“Aaron,” I whined, shifting my hips underneath him. I was still so close.

“I’ve got you, needy girl.” He shifted his weight and then slammed inside of me, pulling a scream from my throat.

It didn’t hurt, just the opposite. I had never felt so fucking overwhelmed before.

“Please, please, please,” I pleaded.

One of his hands wrapped around my throat while the other gripped my headboard. He started a brutal pace while his hand squeezed against me. “Reach down and rub your clit, Princess,” he ordered his hips slapping against mine. “Come on. Make your pretty pussy cum all over me.”

He wasn’t even finished speaking before my fingers found my clit, circling it furiously. His grip on my throat loosened slightly, his thrusts becoming a bit sharper.

“I want to hear you fucking scream my name, you bratty little thing.”

“Aaron, Aaron, don’t stop. Please!”

With one more hard thrust, my orgasm crested, tearing through my body. I felt my pussy clamp down on his cock, pulling him over the edge too. He pumped inside of me a few more times, pulling every ounce of pleasure he could from me.

I finally came down from my high only to feel Aaron drop on top of me for a moment before he promptly rolled onto his side, so as not to crush me.

His arm wrapped around me, bringing me flush against his side, my head on his chest.

“I’m still mad at you,” he mumbled.

“I know.”

“I’m a little less mad now.”

I smiled. “I figured.”

--

Taglist: @rachelxwayne​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @sickeninglyshoujo​ @justagirllookingforherplace @nanocoool​ @andiebeaword​ @imjusthereformggcontent @rainsong01 

@spncersreid