#oh this is so perfect.............................

[catbolt]

Sylus is not-so-subtly using Mephisto to spy on you while he's on a business trip— something you realize immediately as you're lounging on the couch watching TV in one of his t-shirts and hear a sudden tap-tap-tap from outside the balcony's sliding glass door.

You squint, adjusting your glasses to see a familiar red eyed crow cocking his head at you through the window. "Really?" You murmur with a smirk, getting up to pull open the door. Mephisto hops onto your shoulder with a rusty-sounding squawk.

"How long have you been out here?" You murmur good naturedly, ruffling the bird's feathers. The apertures of Mephisto's mechanical eyes restrict and dilate as he registers your face. "Hey, Sylus," you say with a wink, knowing he's listening and watching through Mephisto.

As you return to the couch, setting Mephisto on the coffee table across from you, a text buzzes through on your phone that confirms your suspicions. I like you in that shirt.

You smirk, standing up to strike an exaggerated pose in front of the bird, showcasing how oversized the shirt is on you. "So sexy, right?" You tease sarcastically.

Sexiest thing on the planet, Sylus writes back. Maybe I should come back home early to take it off of you.

"Maybe you should," you say, watching Mephisto preen his feathers. "How many more days?"

Three, baby, Sylus responds. Mephisto can keep you company in the meantime.

"Mephie can't talk," you retort, talking into the silence. "And he needs his gears oiled, by the way. He creaks like an old man when he walks." You can practically hear Sylus' thick, rumbling chuckle when he responds with a string of laughing emojis.

"I'm getting lonelier by the second," you whine. "Seriously, it's been like two weeks now and you've been too busy to call. I worry about you, you know?"

There's absolutely nothing to worry about. I'm fine. I'll be home before you know it.

You roll your eyes at his placating text. You aren't trying to be clingy, but this is the longest the two of you have ever been apart, and the persistent aching feeling of missing him is starting to wear you down. "I know, I know," you mutter, waving him off. Your phone buzzes again.

In fact, I'll make you a bet. If I'm home before you know it, you have to do whatever I say. Agreed?

"Oh, please," you snicker. Mephisto fluffs out his wings. "Fine. Whatever you say." You know he's just trying to get you to stop being mopey.

Anything I say?

"Anything," you concede, lying back to absentmindedly resume scrolling through the TV channels.

Perfect. As if on cue you hear three hard knocks on the front door.

"Son of a..."

[A/N]: adapted from a request by @harukablossomsblog~ hope you enjoy!

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐘 — 𝐂.𝐒.

Synopsis: Chris can't fuck you in his balloon-filled room, but he needs you so bad.

Warnings: Smut, BIG DICK CHRIS, raw p n v, sucking fingers, GETTING CAUGHT, creampie, BULGE KINK.

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Loud squelches echo through the living room. Chris is between your legs, pounding into you as you lay on the couch. 

“Fuck—shut up, baby. Bein’ too damn loud,” he husks, the grip he has on your legs getting tighter. 

The position you're in is unbearably good. Every inch of his length is buried inside your dripping heat, your stomach bulging while he continues to drill himself into you. 

“-’m sorry, I—,” the words are muffled as he places a hand over your mouth. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you feel his tip graze that spot—the spot that made it impossible to do anything but scream in pleasure. 

Chris huffs, the feeling of your warm, wet walls clenching around him making it harder to contain himself. He wants to pound you even harder, he needs nothing but to see you absolutely destroyed under his touch—but he knows he can’t. 

Not when you’re in the living room—Matt and Nick only a short couple steps away from seeing such a lewd scene. 

“Shit!” Chris hisses, biting on his lip as he tries to muffle his own noises. But it’s so hard. This is absolute bliss, everything he needed and more. 

It’s not his fault his brother decided to pull some fuck ass prank, filling his room with balloons and not even offering to help clean it up. He couldn’t hold himself back when you came over in that one skirt—the skirt that drove him beyond insane. 

The second you had bent over, giving him just the smallest glimpse—there was no holding back. He needed you right then, dragging you up to the living room and distracting you from the worry of being in plain sight. 

“Chris! Chris!” 

Your screams are still muffled by his hand. You feel his fingers dip into your mouth, immediately sucking on the digits while his hips plunge deep—making everything go a hot flash of white as you feel yourself toppling closer and closer towards the edge. 

“C’mon,” he husks, sucking on your neck as some sort of method to keep himself from groaning loudly. You just feel so fucking good. “-give it to me—wanna feel you cum all over my big dick, sweetheart,” 

He lets out a pitiful noise, every muscle straining as he feels your wetness convulse around him. “Oh fuck—you’re-you’re gonna make me cum, I—”

Your chest is arched into his. The high is excruciatingly long, the feeling of his grip getting tighter as he starts to ruthlessly shovel his entire length in you over and over again. His desperation is clouding his senses, forgetting that you’re hidden in plain sight. 

He just doesn’t care. Not when you feel like heaven wrapped around him, not when you’re shaking beneath him. And definitely not when you’re begging for his cum, wanting to be filled to the absolute brim. 

“-want it, Chris. Inside…I—please,” you rasp. 

His head drops into the crook of your neck, the rhythm of his hips stutter as he lets himself finish deep inside of you, making sure to give you everything. 

“Fuckkkkkkkk, all filled up now, huh? Is that better, baby?” he purrs, removing his hand from your mouth and petting the side of your fucked-out face. And holy shit—it’s the perfect sight. You’re so… messy. And it’s all for him. It’s not his fault he’s obsessed. He just couldn’t wait when he saw you in that damn skirt. 

“What the fuck?!” 

Your eyes go wide as you see Matt in the corridor of the hall. 

Instincts take over, you panic while trying to catch your breath. 

“I’m sorry, oh my god!” you shout, sighing as you hear his bedroom door slam shut. 

As you squint your eyes shut with shame painted on your face, Chris slowly starts to pump himself inside you again. 

“Chris, what’re you—”

“Already got caught,” he mentions, his hand grazing down and tweaking your sensitive nipple. “No point in stopping now. I had to wait all damn day for you and I—”

You shriek as he moves his hips sharply, your skin pulsing as you feel his lips brush against your ear,

“-and I’m greedy—so fuckin’ greedy for you.”

[mariasont]

That anon was living under a rock because your smut fics (all of your fics tbh!) I reread wayyy to many times, lol. But if you’re taking smut requests, I’d love to see more bimbo!reader and Hotch! I can’t get enough.

I’ll take anything!! But more specifically, their first time, all of that built up tension (that you write so perfectly!) finally breaks!

Anyways, I never send in requests but I saw a window of opportunity and had to take it, haha.

Third Date Rule - A.H

summary: the third date proves to be worth the wait when you and hotch experience your first time together. pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI, sexy time, fingering, oral fem receiving, p in v, they did not in fact wrap it before tapping it and it's not really discussed so yeah idk about that one, aftercare wc: 7.7k

This was so overdue.

Technically, it's only been three dates. Technically.

But if you count all the years you'd known him, the months spent daydreaming about this moment, the weeks of waiting while he played the world's longest game of restraint, then really, you should have had him naked ages ago.

And if Aaron (which still feels like a thrill to say — Aaron — because you're dating now and you can freely call him that) wasn't so stubborn and noble and insufferably gentlemanly, you would have.

But tonight was finally the night. The third date. The sacred, hallowed, much-debated, universally accepted gateway to getting into the sheets. And yes, okay, maybe you barely survived the wait without jumping his bones, but that's hardly relevant now. The point is, you did it.

And now you're in his lap, his tie wound tight around your fingers, his tongue deep in your mouth, and gods, if this night didn't end with him inside you, you might actually die. 

Like, literally. Heart failure. Sudden death.

This was premeditated. At least, for you. You moisturized like your life depended on it, doused yourself in perfume that could be classified as a controlled substance, and selected a bra that made your tits look so insane, it might actually be illegal in some states.

And then you spent an embarrassing amount of time picking the perfect dress that says oh, I'm classy, but also please take me home and rip this off with your teeth.

You pull away, just enough to see him. To take in the slow bloom of pink trailing from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, the way his pupils are so wide they’ve all but erased the brown of his eyes. And his lips — swollen and red from kissing you — part like he was debating how bad it would be to drag you right back in. You wouldn’t mind.

“Aaron,” you sigh, fingers burying into his hair, marveling at how absurdly soft it is, how freely he lets you have this piece of him. “We should go to bed.”

For a second, he locks up. Not hesitation but calibration, a body processing desire so sharp it might break him. You feel it in the way his chest expands, in the quiet exhale through his nose.

"This wasn't my plan for the night," he murmurs, voice softer now, not strained, but steeped in something much gentler. Something careful. "I wasn't —," He shakes his head, like the whole concept doesn’t sit right in his mouth. "I don't want you to think this is just —,"

"Sex?"

You can see the way he wants to argue, like he wants to carve the word out of the air and replace it with something that means more.

"Yes."

You can’t stop the stupid, lovestruck smile pulling at your lips. Maybe it’s the wine from dinner finally working its magic. (It’s not.) Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, all serious and earnest, like you’re the only thing in existence, and if he blinks, you might vanish. (It definitely is.)

A laugh bubbles up, light and giddy, body not knowing what to do with all this adoration. You lean in, pressing a kiss to his jaw, just to see if he’ll let you. (He does.)

“Are you serious? If you just wanted sex, you wouldn’t have spent actual years pretending my very dedicated, very expertly executed attempts to seduce you weren’t happening.”

His brow arches, but you see it for what it is — a stall. “Expertly, huh?”

"Remember that heatwave last summer? When I just had to eat a popsicle at my desk every afternoon?"

His eyes darken like the memory is playing in high definition behind his eyes.

"I remember."

"Do you?" Your fingers slip beneath his color. “Because —” You tilt your head. “I always seemed to finish them standing in front of your office —"

You don't even get to finish your sentence. 

One second, you’re speaking, the next, you’re airborne. Lifted clean off the couch, legs locking around his waist automatically, arms thrown around his shoulders like you planned this all along.

You didn’t, but you wish you had. 

Not that it matters, because he’s already moving, already walking straight to the bedroom.

You bury your smile against his jaw, letting your breath tickle against the shell of his ear as another giggle slips out. It couldn’t be helped.

"I really hope you know," you whisper, “that I am, like, stupidly excited for this. Like, counting down the days excited.”

Aaron sets you down on the mattress gently, but his body doesn’t follow right away, hovering over you.

"You're not making this easy for me."

You ignore him because you’re much more distracted by how insanely soft his sheets are. That was your first thought when your back hits the mattress, hair fanning across the pillows.

For a fleeting second, you wonder if he’ll catch the scent of your perfume tomorrow. If he’ll notice the ghost of you when he lays down alone.

Your second was that this is so not the time nor place to get emotional. 

But this is his space. His bed. His room.

It’s tidy, but somehow not sterile, everything having its place, but not afraid to be used. A book sits on the nightstand, a book mark sticking out mid-thought. A photo frame faces the bed, though from this angle you struggle to see what’s inside.

There’s his suit jacket from yesterday, draped over the back of a chair, a little rumpled. 

And maybe it's silly, but you feel weirdly honored to be here.

You should probably be processing this moment, what it means to be here, with him, like this. Instead, you take a second to admire the view.

The lamp softens the sharp lines of his face, making him look almost gentle — which is funny, considering how you hoped to be thoroughly destroyed by him.

Something expands inside you, stretching against the walls of your chest, something too big, something that terrifies you.

So you do what you do best. You deflect.

“I can’t believe I’m about to sleep with my boss.”

He doesn’t even try to hide his exasperation, his forehead dropping into the crook of your neck. “Sweetheart—,”

"What?" You giggle, letting your fingers slide through his hair, letting your nails rake lightly over his scalp. "It's true."

His sigh is nothing short of pained, but then he kisses your cheek anyway, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. You were starting to feel like each was a thinly veiled attempt to tame you.

"Please don't phrase it like that."

"Yes, Mr. Hotchner." 

Every self-satisfied thought evaporates the moment he kisses you – really kisses you.

It’s not just a meeting of lips but a focused intensity, tongue sweeping inside your mouth and suddenly nothing before this mattered, because clearly, clearly, every kiss you’ve ever had was just practice for this one. 

Your body responds before your mind can catch up, spine arching and he doesn’t stop you, just kisses you with a hunger that makes teasing obsolete, that makes breathing secondary to the way he’s taking from you, giving to you, all at once.

His lips wander, dragging across your jaw like he’s leaving invisible ink behind, pressing something permanent into your skin.

You hope you’ll wake up tomorrow and still feel him there.

Your hands move to the nape of his neck, drawn by craving, by the need circling inside you like a ribbon of fire.

It stretches outward, licking at your skin, threading through your veins. His hands hold you still, spanning over your rib. His breath fans over your pulse, and you swear he can feel how fast it’s racing.

You should be gloating right now. This is, after all, exactly what you wanted, what you worked for. A biting remark sits on the top of your tongue, but then his mouth moves, and he finds it.

That wicked, traitorous little dip beneath your jaw that turns your entire brain into pink, glittering static. He pauses, listening, feeling, before sealing his mouth over it again, tongue dragging over the sensitive skin like he’s testing a theory that he already knows the answer to.

Your fingers clench in his hair, a startled sound choking in your throat before you can stop it. And then, the bastard laughs. Not sweet, not kind, but low and sharp and smug because he knows exactly what he’s done. 

You had the upper hand. Past tense.

"There it is," he murmurs, pressing another kiss there, his tongue flattening over it just to make you squirm. "You want to know how I figured this out?"

You hum, or try to. But it’s pathetic because you’re barely conscious, every cell fried to uselessness by his mouth.

He mimics you, just to be an ass about it, mocking the dazed little sound like he hasn’t just reduced you to it. "You always reached for it when I looked at you too long."

Your mouth opens. Closes.

"Or," he continues, "when I stood too close to you at the coffee machine. You'd fidget, tuck your hair behind your ear like you weren't thinking about it." His exhale burns against your pulse. "Cute."

You gasp, a little offended, mostly turned on. "Oh, wow. Profiling me? At work? That's, like, wildly unethical."

"Didn't need to," he murmurs. "You were practically begging me to figure you out."

His mouth is perfect in the way lightning is perfect – striking, searing, and completely out of your control. It’s perfect enough that you can pretend not to hear him.

He sucks, slow and hard enough to tear a sound from your lips before you even know it’s there, something that feels like vulnerability in its purest form. Something you would never willingly give him.

His laugh is quiet, wrecking, as he pulls back, lips slick with your skin. "That good?"

His mouth makes quick work, over your collarbone, down, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, down, branding every inch of skin he can reach. 

He stops at the neckline of your dress, and suddenly, you can't think about anything except how it's still on.

You want to strip it off, want to offer yourself up as a willing sacrifice, but you’re well aware that if you try, if you even reach, he’ll stop you. Or worse, he'll make you wait. He'll slow you down, draw it out just to watch you squirm because patience is his weapon of choice, because he lives for making you suffer.

His teeth graze the swell of your breast, just enough to sting, and whatever fragile grip you had on yourself disintegrates on impact. Your hands fumble blindly for his face, fingers shaking, needing to see his eyes.

"Please, Aaron.” It’s an exhale, a prayer. “Need you."

You see the ripple of tension along his throat. And for one tiny, blinding second you think this is when he finally snaps, abandons his tolerance and just takes you.

"You don't know how long I've wanted you like this," he rumbles. "I'm going to take my time."

You whine, frustration bleeding from your fingertips where they clutch his shoulders, fingers digging in like you can physically push him into moving faster.

He does not move faster. 

His hands slide up to the straps of your dress, as he drags it down with all the urgency of a leisurely Sunday stroll. 

Your mind is halfway through an exceptionally justified complaint about how slow he is moving when he folds the dress.

Folds it.

Sets it aside. Doesn't toss it.

And that may be the hottest thing he's ever done.

Because you know he knows. He’s always known. Known that your things aren’t just things — that your dresses, your heels, your overpriced lip glosses aren’t frivolous, aren’t some shallow indulgence, but tiny, curated pieces of you.

He has listened to you decide between two pairs of shoes that are, for all intent and purposes, identical. He knows jasmine is mysterious and vanilla is flirty, knows that you’ll debate your right to own the same three shades of pink. 

And instead of dismissing it, instead of rolling his eyes (though he does that too), he folds your dress. As if it matters.

You stare at him, somewhere between melting and spontaneous combustion, and he simply raises a brow. “Something wrong?”

"No." You shake your head for emphasis, voice a little too weak to get the point across. "Just thinking I might have to marry you."

His hands settle at your waist, fingers tracing over the pink lace like he’s trying to process it, like if he touches it enough times, it’ll confirm that this is actually happening and not some cruel illusion. His thumb brushes the scalloped edge, breathing shallow. You were pretty sure he’s currently having a full-scale existential meltdown over lingerie.

"Agreed," he murmurs, distracted, hooded eyes still glued to your chest. "I think the courthouse opens at eight."

Your giggle stutters, hiccups right out of you, because his hands are suddenly everywhere, roaming with no clear plan, just a man in crisis over how much of you he wants to touch first. His palms skate over your stomach, down your thighs, up over your breasts.

"So, this is all I had to do to convince you to do what I want?"

His mouth follows, retracting the path of his hands, rewriting, reworking, perfecting – because apparently, the first time wasn’t good enough, wasn’t thorough enough. 

"You think this is what did it for me?" His voice is hushed. "You could've walked into my office six months ago and told me to get on one knee.” A kiss, open-mouthed, starving, just below your navel. “I would've done it."

Six months ago. You don't know if you believed that.

Except now you're spiraling, backtracking, rewinding, piecing together little details like some lovesick conspiracy theorist with red string and a bulletin board. Every interaction, every loaded glance, every time he let you get away with high-level flirtation without so much as a blink. You thought you were testing him, but what if he was never fighting at all?

And before you can even recover from that, before you can file an official grievance about why no one told you sooner, his hands squeeze at your thighs, his mouth so close to exactly where you need him, and his voice —

"You're so beautiful."

His nose presses into the damp center of your panties, and your hands fly to his hair so fast it’s practically reflex, breath stalling in your chest like your body forgot how to function for a second. 

This is everything. What you've wanted, dreamed of, written in the margins of notebooks (hypothetically, of course).

It should be perfect, but suddenly, it isn't.

Uncertainty slips between the cracks, heat turning into something less solid. You don’t have time to find it, to name it, because he’s already there, already sensing it, already fixing it before you even know what’s wrong.

"Hey." His voice hooks into you, gently reeling you back from wherever your brain was about to go. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

"No, I—," The words come out far too fast and desperate, and you can't decipher why it's so hard to say. "I do want to. Obviously." The nervous laugh that follows is definitely not your usual flirty confidence. "Have you met yourself? Because if you haven't, I would love to introduce you. Tall, devastatingly handsome — you'd love him."

His move curves, but his eyes stay patient and focused, giving you a second to breathe.

"It's just..." Another pause, another frustrated sigh. "I haven't been with anyone in a while."

"That's okay, we can take it slow." He moves so that he's hovering above you again, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his smile just amused enough to leave you flustered. "How long?"

"May."

"May?"

"Yeah, like, May. Three years ago."

Aaron just stares at you, processing. You can see the gears turning, the little mental loading wheel spinning, his expression caught between stunned and deeply interested.

His fingers creep up, sliding under your ribs, just close enough to the heavy swell of your tits to remind you exactly where you are. What he was doing to you before you so rudely derailed this into actual conversation.

"Really?"

You pinch his arm. "Hey! That is not an absurd amount of time."

"No. I know. I didn’t say that," he says quickly. "I'm just... surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

His lips part and he immediately shakes his head, exhaling like he's physically trying to dispel what just ran through your mind, knowing exactly where your thoughts were.

"I just mean — I don't know how every man you meet doesn't immediately worship the ground you walk on."

"Oh, well, they do." You smile. "But I was only ever planning on letting one of them take me to bed."

You reach for his dress shirt buttons, tugging insistently, but your hands refuse to cooperate, not properly communicating with your brain.

It's his fault, you decide.

He looks too good, and it was extremely hard to focus on anything but that.

You have no idea how you survived dinner. Or the car ride home. Or even the eternity it took to get past the door, because that was definitely a struggle considering your mouth was all over his, tasting the whiskey he’d barely touched, before he could even get the key in the lock.

You spent all night picturing this, the way his hands would feel in you, the way his mouth would taste, the way his suit would look crumpled on the floor.

Which, in hindsight, probably meant you were a pretty terrible dinner guest. Nodding, smiling, pretending to listen, all while barely holding back the need to ride him in public.

Aaron laughs, clearly entertained by your struggle, and then, because he’s nothing if not arrogant, he starts undoing the buttons one-handed, to be a show-off.

It’s rude, really. Because now all you can do is watch, helpless as he peels himself open to reveal golden skin, dark hair dusting over firm pecs, trailing lower, disappearing beneath his belt. 

Your manicured fingers glide over the broad expanse of his shoulders, pushing his shirt away like uncovering some lost Renaissance painting that scholars would kill to get their hands on — something that should be in a temperature-controlled glass case, not just here, sprawled above you like he belongs to you. Which, he does, because he’s just letting you do this, letting you look. And you look. He is art. No, better than art. Art is stationary, lifeless, some brushstroke interpretation of what beauty should be. But this, him, he is warmth and breath and muscle.

Museums wish they had something this valuable. They’d burn down in despair if they knew he existed just for you.

"May," he muses, letting the word roll off his tongue, turning it over in his mind. "That's an oddly specific answer."

You make a vague sound of agreement, mostly just to acknowledge that yes, technically, he did say words, but you’re too busy to actually care. Too busy with spreading your hands over the planes of his chest, with grabbing at his belt.

"You were hired in May three years ago."

Your hands freeze. 

"That's... um weird." A slow blink. "Weird that you know that. Weirder that you noticed."

You work his belt loose, tugging it free. It’s meant to be a distraction, a well-placed touch to shift his focus from his revelation.

But then your plan backfires spectacularly because he’s hard, thick, unreasonably big and suddenly your fingers feel useless.

Aaron makes a sound — half a hiss, half a laugh — and his hands snap to your wrist, catching you before you can explore further, like he knew you were going to do that. "It’s okay, honey."

"I—I don't—," You blink up at him, floundering, desperately trying to sound casual. "That's, uh, I don't know what that's supposed to mean."

Aaron’s smirk deepens, his grip on you slackening just enough to trick you into thinking he’s going to be nice.

But then his other hand moves, slipping between your bodies, sliding beneath the heat trapped between your thighs, finding the neediest part of you, and pressing.

Your whole body jerks, a startled gasp catching in your throat as sensation flares — hot, sharp, mercilessly good.

His fingers start to move, rubbing tight circles against you. Your hands cling, one locked onto his bare shoulders, the other pressing against his dick, desperate to make him feel even a fraction of what he's doing to you.

It earns you a groan, low and gritty, hips twitching against your palm, his breath is hot against your lips, his mouth hovering just barely out of reach.

"I won't tease," he promises, but the way he bites at your bottom lip feels like a lie. His tongue is quick to follow, flicking over the welt he’s just left, soothing the burn before sealing it with a kiss, just this side of messy. “Three years… that’s a long time.” His lips skim yours again. “For both of us.”

A pleased sound bubbles up from your throat, slipping between his lips, that makes it obnoxiously clear just how much you love those words. That is a sentence you’d like embroidered on a pillow. Maybe cross-stitched into a nice, elegant frame for your future shared bedroom. 

"Oh," you sigh, a smile stretching against his lips. "I really, really, like knowing that. That's, like, incredible news."

Your brows scrunch, and you pull back just an inch. 

"Just to be clear, though, you do mean in a wow, you've ruined me for other women way, and not in a I've been to busy for a sex life way, right? Because those are two different things, and I need to know which one we're working with here—"

Aaron huffs a laugh and instead of answering with words, his hands slip into your panties, fingers finding your clit without prelude. Skin to skin now, no fabric, no flimsy barrier. Just touch.

His fingers dip lower, dragging through the slick, indecent in how easily he moves through the mess of you. He makes a noise — nearly a groan, mostly a hum of appreciation, of possession — before he spreads it, smearing your own arousal over your clit, rolling circles.

"Oh, wow, sweetheart."

Your thighs fall open like you have no say in it — because you don’t, because every instinct in you is reaching for him, needing it like a fix.

And maybe, maybe that should be embarrassing — the obvious, shameless way you seek him out — but it’s a gorgeous kind of humiliation, a flush that spreads lower.

"Well," you gasp, chest rising in stuttering little pants. "Y—you kept me waiting forever."

Aaron hushes you with a soft tsk, his fingers pressing, stroking, coaxing you into sweet, mindless submission. Every movement feels preordained, like he already knows your body, like he’s a man who’s spent years thinking about this.

"I know, sweetheart," he soothes, murmuring it against the fragile skin beneath your ear, punctuating it with a kiss. "But I think I'm making up for lost time pretty well."

"I guess," you manage. "Th—that's acceptable."

Aaron chuckles, the vibration traveling straight into your skin. His lips descend, an idolization thing, but it’s the kind of devotion that sets you on fire.

His hands spread over your thighs, parting them gently.

Your underwear drags down, slipping over your thighs, grazing the curve of your knees, and then off. And suddenly, there's nothing separating you from his eyes, from the way the air licks over you, cool against the sticky heat between your thighs.

His lips part like he wasn't expecting to fall apart so easily. Like he thought he'd have more time, more control. And the power in it, the sheer, intoxicating power of knowing he's just as affected as you are, that this is breaking him open, makes your skin fizz, burn, ache for him even more.

If someone had told you a year ago that Aaron Hotchner, mister all-business-all-the-time, would be between your legs, staring at you like he's never seen anything more perfect, you would have said something nonsensical. Something about fate. Or destiny.

And you would have been right. Because you always knew this was a definite.

"Oh, honey.... You're gorgeous," It's almost a whisper, like the words were dragged out of him against his will, stolen straight from his lungs the second his eyes landed on you. His gaze drinks you in, head tilting, lips parting, tongue skating over the swell of his bottom lip. “I knew you would be, but…”

A sharp, sizzling spark races up your spine, white-hot and unbearable, but when it should tip over into relief, it withers into frustration. The kind that makes your body revolt against the absence of touch. Your hips buck, thighs squeezing as if you can somehow force the friction you’re being deprived of.

"Give me a second, baby," he teases, caressing his nose along the inside of your thigh. "Just wanna look at you."

His mouth moves in decadent passes, open-mouthed kisses pressed into your inner thigh.

Another kiss. Then another. So close.

Then he detours. Veers off, pressing his lips into the dip of your hip instead, dragging his tongue along something that is not your clit.

"So perfect."

His fingers prod through your folds, parting you, fingertips wading through the slickness pooling at your entrance. The sound that spills from him is sinful.

All of your muscles coiling tight, every inch of you scorching with unmet need and just when you think you're going to have to beg him, just when the words start to form —

He gives in. 

His tongue is there first, dragging a flat, broad stripe through your center, licking over every hypersensitive inch of you before looking up at you through hooded eyes. You swear you nearly come from the sight alone.

"Knew you'd be sweet."

Aaron doesn't waste another second, burying himself in you, mouth moving like he's been ravenous for this. 

His grip is firm as he spreads you wider, keeping you at his mercy. His lips wrap around your clit for a split second before he moves again, tasing, licking, humming, lapping up everything you're giving him.

It's messy. Wet. Dripping. His mouth moves as he tries to wreck himself on you. Each second convincing you that he wouldn’t mind suffocating here if it meant another taste.

His nose nudges against you, the angle so cruelly perfect it sends another violent tremor through your body, legs jumping against his shoulders. Your fingers grasp blindly for purchase, gripping the sheets, tangling in his hair, at anything you can reach. 

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs into you, words muffled by your pussy. "Let me hear you."

"Oh — " The sound falls from your lips, your eyes squeezing shut like you can block out the overwhelming pleasure if you just try hard enough.  "Oh, that's — "

Your hips stutter, thighs tightening around his face.

Aaron chuckles darkly, and you feel it more than you hear it, the sound pulsing through your core.

You’re not sure you have a body anymore, not sure you exist outside of this moment. You’re just sensation, just trembling atoms held together only by his hands, his breath, his voice. There’s no past or future – just now, just him.

If this is what it means to transcend, to be unraveled and rewritten in the same breath, then let it consume you whole. You could die like this, and it would be the kindest death you could ever ask for.

A single finger ghosts over your entrance, teasing but never quite committing. He dips in, just the barest of intrusion, and you shudder, clenching around nothing because it’s gone just as fast. 

He waits, just long enough to hear the next breathy fussing before finally spearing back in. Your eyes flutter shut, breath breaking apart in little puffs.

The sounds coming from your cunt should embarrass you, sticky, so shockingly loud that if your brain was working, you’d be mortified. But it’s not working. Not even a little. 

His hand flattens over your stomach and suddenly the pressure doubles, triples.

"Tell me, baby," he murmurs, "feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes, yes, oh my gods, Aaron, I—"

Your normal senses have left the building. Packed its bags, hit the road, abandoned you to whatever dark magic this is. Because this —this isn’t how your body works. This isn’t how guys work. You don’t come from this. 

But here you are, hurtling toward it at full speed and all because he decided you would.

It’s happening too fast, the pressure stacking. Your thighs shake open, stomach clenching so hard it aches. Your mind is lagging behind, still reeling, still trying to rationalize but it doesn’t matter because your body has already made its choice, has already given in, has already decided this is happening, whether you’re ready for it or not.

"Aaron, I think—,"

Aaron just groans, finishing your sentence for you, lapping up your confession with his tongue,

"I know, baby." Hot air blows against your swollen clit. "Let me feel it."

It crashes over you, back bowing off the bed. Your body splinters apart, thighs trembling so hard you couldn’t stop them if you tried. The edges of your vision smear into nothing as the pleasure consumes everything in its path. 

His mouth stays on you, tongue and fingers pushing you through the aftershocks until you’re clawing at the sheets, until that pleasure tilts so far into oversensitivity that makes you unaware if you’re pulling him closer or pushing him away.

Your limbs feel like liquid, consolidating into every inch of your body, melting into the mattress as Aaron moves to be face to face with you.

He's looking at you like he's the only thing keeping you tethered to this planet, and maybe he is, because when his lips get close enough, you tug him the rest of the way down, crashing your mouth into his in a way that's all sloppy desperation.

You can taste yourself on him, can feel the way he groans into it when you sigh against his mouth, all soft and dreamy and drunk on gratification. 

When you pull back, your fingers card through his hair, fixing nothing but feeling everything.

"Oh my gosh," you gasp, dissolving into giggles, toes curling as you flop back against the pillows. "I knew you'd be good at that, obviously, but I wasn't expecting all that. Like wow, you should get a certificate of excellence or something."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you sigh dramatically, "Or like, a trophy, a raise, a sash that says best head giver in gold letters—," You pause for a breath, sucking in air like you just realized how winded you are.

"— and I mean, I've never come like that before. So. You should probably put that on your résumé."

When Aaron presses against you, you feel every inch of him. Thick and unfortunately still restrained. His slacks are a cruel barrier, the rough drag of the fabric catching your clit in a way that rips a whimper straight from your throat.

His teeth scrape along your jaw, then he's mouthing at your neck, sucking, teasing, marking you.

"Firstly," he murmurs. "I hate the idea of anyone else touching you."

An involuntary shiver rolls through you.

"And secondly," he continues, "the fact that they didn't even know how."

Your hands are frantic as they fly to his waistband, fumbling a bit, the last hindrance between you offensive in its existence. 

"Well, yeah," you sigh, looking up at him through fluttering lashes, glossy lips parted just for him. "I mean, you're literally the only one who's ever known what to do with me. That has to mean something, right? Like, cosmic destiny or whatever."

Aaron shoves his pants and briefs off, barely sparing them a second thought, and then he's back, fitted between your thighs.

"You already know the answer to that." His lips brush your temple. "I'm the only one who knows how to handle you. And I plan on proving it."

"Yeah, okay," you say, squirming beneath him. "Not gonna argue when that sounds like the best idea ever."

You've seen a lot of versions of Aaron. You've seen work Aaron, serious and bossy, looking at crime scenes like he can hear the evidence whispering just to him. You've seen grumpy Aaron, glaring over his coffee when you talk too much at morning briefings (but you know he likes it, he just won't say). You've seen soft Aaron, the one who lets you steal his jacket even though you definitely don't need it.

But you've never seen this Aaron. This post-kissing-you Aaron. Lips slick, still damp with you, evidence of where he’s been, what he’s done.

His eyes flick to yours, and there’s no shame, no rush to wipe it away. If anything, he tilts his head, letting you see it from a better angle.

"You're so handsome, Aaron." Your voice trembles. You don't even know if you said it out loud or just thought it so hard he must have heard it anyway.

"And you,” he murmurs, tracing his thumb over your cheek, “are so damn sweet, honey."

You beam at that, overwhelmed, so unbelievably happy that your thoughts are practically spilling out faster than you can catch them.

"Okay so I just need to say — this is so exciting, like, you do realize I've had a crush on you for years, right? And now this is actually happening, and that's just — wow."

You suck in a sharp breath, nails dragging over the thick muscles of his arms, across his shoulders.

"I mean, it's us, Aaron. Can you believe that? Like, I feel like this has been building for so long and now I'm just — gods, you're so hot, this is actually distracting me. I can't even finish my own thought —,"

You laugh, because you already feel so full of him and he isn't even inside you yet.

"And I know you're being all careful and slow because you're sweet and romantic and, like, the most perfect man alive, but also —,"

You grind up, chasing friction, his cock sliding just right over your clit. Your breath stutters, hands fisting at the nape of his neck as you try to remember what you were saying.

" — I'm literally at your mercy right now, so you should probably take advantage of that before I —,"

"You talk so much, baby."

And then he shuts you up. Hard.

His mouth rams into yours, ingesting the comment, the breath, everything.

He doesn't rush. 

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance before he finally, slowly, pushes inside.

It knocks the breath from your lungs. Your mouth parts against his, lips catching on his as a little sigh slips out. Your nails dig into his shoulders, helpless against the way he's opening you up. 

He stills, a sharp, fractured inhale slicing through the air, fingers digging into your hips — hard. He is struggling. You can feel it. The way his cock twitches inside you, like his body is screaming at him to move.

"I-I'm good." Your laugh wobbles, catches at the edges, barely disguising how badly you want him to believe you. "You can keep going."

"You're tensing because it's been a while." You don't mean to, but your body reacts before your brain can tell it not to, stiffening. Stupid, stupid. His exhale is shaky, and his lips press against your cheek. "I know that. I expected that."

You swallow, but it doesn't help.

"I also know that you think if I notice, I'll stop." His forehead rests against yours. "But I need you to hear me, baby. I'm not stopping."

His lips graze yours.

"I'm going to work you through this. Just let me in, princess."

And the second you do, the second you finally give in —

He groans, pushing deeper, stretching you completely, filling you to the hilt. 

"There we go," he breathes, wrecked with praise. His hand presses to your lower belly, feeling how deep he is, how well you take him. "That's my good girl."

Your head tilts back, lips parting, body doing the melty thing that feels really, really nice but also really, really dangerous because you swear you're seconds away from levitating straight out of your own skin.

"Okay, so I did think this would feel good —," Your fingers twitch against his chest, nails raking lightly over sweat-damp skin as another sharp moan tumbles free. "— but, um, wow, this is like — this is so —,"

Your words taper off, get lost somewhere between your psyche and your mouth, because oh. Oh, wow. He's so deep, so heavy inside you, pressing into places you didn't even know existed.

"Go on, baby," he murmurs, a smirk plastered across handsome features as he dips his head. "You were saying?"

"You know," you gasp, words all flimsy and loose, like they've been shaken up inside you, "I kinda always wondered how big you were —"

Your breath hooks halfway through, hiccups on a moan, brain scrambling to keep up with your mouth, your mouth scrambling to keep up with — him.

"Not that I, um — I stared at your pants or anything —" Another sharp inhale, another desperate moan, your walls fluctuating and squeezing around something too thick. "I mean, I try not to because I'm a professional —"

An involuntary clench makes him curse, makes his fingers dip into your hips, makes his head plunge forward hard against your shoulder.

"Honey, shit—,"

Your lashes flutter. "What?"

"Sweetheart, if you keep squeezing me like that while you ramble about my cock, I'm not going to last."

Your mouth clicks shut promptly.

"That's what I thought."

Hotch rocks his hips, just once, a sharp gasp fissuring from your lips like you weren't expecting it. 

"Jesus, sweetheart. You're trembling." He cups your cheek, his thumb skimming over your bottom lip, eyes dark and aflame. "Does it feel that good?"

You nod, and he hums, dragging his cock almost all the way out before pushing back in. 

His hand drags down your waist, spans over your belly, fingers pressing like he's charting the way he fits inside you.

"I used to tell myself I wouldn't do this," he admits. "That I wouldn't touch you. Wouldn't ruin you like this."

Your head lolls back, eyes fluttering, lips parted prettily, gasping as he rocks into you again, and again, and again. You shake your head, or at least, you think you do.

"You don't —" You try to shape words, but they liquefy on your tongue. "Don't ruin me, Aaron, you — oh, you make me —"

Hotch's throat bobs, his pupils blown.

"You make me so, so good, so soft, so perfect."

His hand cups your jaw. "You're already all of those things, sweetheart."

"Not before you," you sigh. "I've been waiting so long, Aaron, so, so long —"

"I know, baby," he groans. "I know."

His hand veers between your bodies, his fingers finding the swollen, neglected bundle of nerves.

“Aaron — oh, wait, wait, wait —,” Your hands shoot up to his shoulders. “I don’t know if I can, I mean, I can, but it’s just —,”

His cock throbs inside you, his rhythm stuttering for half a second before he finds it again, harder this time, his fingers matching the pace.

“Too much?”

“Yes, no, kind of? I don’t know, I can’t—,” You choke on your own breath as another thrust knocks every last rumination from your head. “I can’t think.”

“Good.” His forehead presses against yours, his lips parting against your mouth, panting, his control slipping. “I don’t want you thinking. Just feel me, sweetheart. Feel what I’m doing to you.”

Your body is shaking, shaking so hard that you don’t even know if you’re moving or if he’s just pushing you through it. 

“I know, baby. But you can take it, can’t you?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, body twitching. 

“That’s my girl,” he praises, groaning as he grinds into you, stretching it. “One more, honey. You can give me one more.”

It hits you slowly, unwinding through your organs like smelted honey.

“Oh, oh —,” Your breath falters, mind going blank, the pleasure overwhelming every nerve in your body until you can’t do anything but let it consume you.

“Christ,” he groans, feeling you clench around him so tight it nearly undoes him.

You barely register the way you’re gasping, twitching, babbling out breathless little moans, vision blurring, and for a second you think you might black out.

“That’s it, princess,” he rasps, fucking you through it the reverberations. “So, so good for me.”

His pace turns shallow, sharp, chasing the tight, perfect squeezing of you still thrashing around him.

“You’re so tight, honey,” he grits, hands bruising your hips, your breath still catching from your own orgasm.

You’re too gone to respond, too wrung out to do anything but whimper as he takes you, using your body to pull himself over the edge.

He groans, low and deep, his fingers tangling in your hair, his mouth ghosting over your cheek as he finally breaks.

A shudder, a muttered curse, his body jerking, hips slamming into yours as he spills inside you.

He doesn’t mean to collapse, you know that, because even as his body gives out, his arms brace, still trying to be careful, even now. You want to cling to him, lock your legs around his waist, but you barely remember how to move, so you just let out a sleepy sound, nuzzling blindly at his throat. 

He murmurs something low, something that sounds like praise, maybe worship.

His lips press to the side of your face, half-gone and still recovering, and then his muscles tense, trying to lift himself off you.

Your arms wind around his neck before he can get too far. 

“Sweetheart,” he rasps, “I’m crushing you.”

“Don’t care,” you mumble, voice a little hoarse. “Feels nice.”

“You did so good.”

When he finally pulls out, you feel the loss and everything that comes with it, his release sticky and warm beneath your thighs. 

Aaron disappears into the bathroom, and you barely have time to miss him before he’s back with a warm cloth in hand.

You giggle, squirming before he even touches you, already restless, and the second he presses the cloth to your inner thighs, you jerk, laughing helplessly.

“Oh, wait —,”

Aaron sighs, one hand pressing against your hip to keep you still. “Sweetheart. You have to let me clean you up”

“But it tickles—,”

He smirks and continues his work. “How do you feel?”

“Like I saw god actually,” you ramble, kicking your feet against the sheets. “Or, like, like, if I had to describe it, I’d say I transcended reality for a little bit —,”

Aaron just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your knee as he finishes cleaning you up. Each swipe reminds you that your legs might not be on speaking terms with you tomorrow.

When he’s done his mouth finds yours again. It’s easy to kiss him. If it were physically possible to stay attached to him, twenty-four hours a day, you’d gladly test the theory.

“Worth the wait,” he breathes into your mouth.

“Well, yeah,” you murmur, smirking up at him. “I figured it would be for you.”

He laughs.

“Yeah, baby, you were good,” he mutters, kissing right over your stuttering pulse. “You were so good.” Another kiss. “So good I’m already thinking about the next time.”

Your heart hasn’t even slowed down, and you’re already thinking about the next time. Already plotting, already ready to drag him back down and see just how quickly that next time could turn into right now. But before you can so much as tug at him — Aaron is rolling out of bed, pulling on his pants, disappearing into the kitchen.

You mean to protest, to demand why he left you alone in a post-bliss haze, but then he’s back, pressing a glass of water into your hand, watching you drink it like it’s his personal responsibility.

Then comes food, something light and something he feeds you between kisses, between lazy murmurs about nothing. 

At some point, the blankets are back over you, his lips pressing against your forehead, his voice saying something about getting some sleep before you got any ideas, before pulling you against him.

You hum, content and drowsy, shifting a little, rolling over to get more comfortable —

And then your eyes land on that photo frame from earlier. You had a clear view of it now.

It was you.

It takes you a second to place it, but once you do, you almost laugh. You know this photo — because Garcia took it. She printed it out months ago, probably as some ridiculous gag, and stuck it to Aaron’s office wall with a bright sticky note that read your favorite obviously. You’d rolled your eyes at the time, called it workplace favoritism, but he’d never taken it down. 

And now, somehow, it’s framed. On his nightstand, like he’s been looking at you every night for —

You don’t finish the thought.

Instead, you just smile, huge and uncontrollable.

He doesn’t say anything.

And you don’t need him to.

Because you already know.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're No Good

Pairings - Cult leader/clan Leader Geto x F! reader

Summary - You have been promised to marry the psychotic, human hating leader of the Geto Clan, Suguru. Your heart sinks at the wedding when you realize you're likely to be ended once you've fulfilled your duty, giving him an heir. He detests you on sight, as do you, but something happens the first time you lay together, Suguru swears you're some witch, because he can't get enough of you. He becomes consumed with fucking you, with the excuse of 'having an heir' but you begin to wonder just where the lines are blurring. Would you survive this- and will Suguru survive being with you?

CW- Arranged marriage trope, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, psychotic Geto lol- lots of hate sex, Suguru calling you a stupid monkey, angsty, FULL of smut. Reader is a virgin bc she's sheltered due to been promised to him. Reader is FEISTY asf and mean right back. Explicit sex and Geto being whipped/insane/obsessed and psycho. This part- Heavy angst, hate sex, cum licking, oral (m and f recieiving) choking, smacking, say hi to Gojo, toxic relationship. WC this part- 6.5k

Will be six parts <3 Plz share/comment/ like if you enjoy!

<<<Part Two - Playlist - Masterlist - Part four (soon)

Part Three

“Fuck…” Suguru’s moaning as he’s filling you, and it’s just too much, too intimate, his silken long locks falling against your skin, his lips hovering over yours, one of your legs wrapped on his hip.

“Fuck you…” Is what you mutter back, as his cock fills you, hitting every damn spot all at once, you’re soaking him, hands gripping the blankets, trying to avoid that desire to grip him instead.

“You love it, don’t you?” You shake your head and he chuckles, slipping his hand down your tummy to toy with your clit, pressing it in circles, making you cum so damn easily. “No?”

“Who c-cares- mnh!” You’re screaming out as he overstimulates you, those lazy lidded violet eyes devouring your face, your nails grip his back on instinct, making him hiss in pleasure.

“Fuck.” He huffs again, as he feels your walls, so slick and tight, pulsating all around his veiny length. “Feel perfect-” He pauses himself, as you gasp, he’s burying his face in your neck again, fucking into you deeper and harder now, taking over all your senses while he hides his feelings.

That he’s obsessed with you should be obvious, it is obvious to fucking anyone besides you, clearly. You haven’t noticed the way he’s non stop in your presence, even as there’s a knocking on his door now, he scowls over at it, you release your nails and he glares at you.

“Put them back.” You scowl right back.

“You’re needed M-Master Geto- oh! Ah!” He’s slamming his cock deeper, using one arm to balance, as the other grabs you by your throat.

“Put them back, now. Are the sheets fucking you?”

“I like them better than y-you.”

“Annoying fucking brat…” He grumbles, shoving his cock so deep as the door knocks again. “What is it!?”

“Plans for Kiyoto, Lord Geto. We have been waiting for an hour.”

“I’m not done yet.” The wet sounds of his cock splitting you in half fill his chambers, as he chokes you harder, looking as you lose oxygen, big hand taking your pretty little neck more and more. “I’ll come later.”

“Kiyoto?” You murmur, and he squeezes harder, slamming his cock even deeper as the bed creaks with the force.

“You can still speak?” He raises an arrogant brow, you’re helpless as the fuzziness of him choking you makes you feel like you’re floating as he slams his cock so deep, tip pressing into your spongy cervix, you pulse all around him screaming silently in pleasure. “There, shut your stupid mouth.”

Suguru releases your throat, slamming his lips on yours, and you’re too weak to fight it, you let him kiss you, clinging to him desperately, and letting go for just one blissful moment. Where you inhale the scent of the sex filling the room, where you feel his taste buds on your tongue, and your tongue moves back, earning his soft little whimper that he hides.

You wish you could let go.

But how do you let go with a monster?

Suguru’s big hand comes to your thigh now, gripping it and shoving impossibly deeper as you whine out, your hips rolling for more. If there is ever a time the two of you aren’t declaring your hate or scowling, it’s when he’s fucking you into that bed, deeper and deeper, kissing you like he could love you. A mix of hatred, desire, and more and more feelings you both suffocate.

A month married to him, in his bed constantly, in whatever position he had you in, last night you’d been on top of him, as he’d laughed while you tried to ride him, but when you’d rolled your hips a certain way, you got that look. The look of whatever real Suguru Geto is inside of this shell, you got a glimpse of his tenderness when he came inside you.

Even now, it doesn’t feel all like hate, not when he slows, and he parts his lips, murmuring something that sounded like beautiful, but when you ever looked at him, asked him what he whispered, he’d shut down and flip you. He’d fuck you harder until you couldn’t remember whatever tender words may have spilled from lips that only produce hate.

You gasp now, looking up at him, when he entwines a hand in yours, it’s too much pressure in your tummy, it’s too intimate really, he shouldn’t fucking do this, and he knows it. “D-don’t…”

“Don’t hold your hand, but I can cum in you?” He whispers back, and you gulp now, nodding, while he shakes his head. “Rather me choke you again?”

“Yes.” He scoffs, slamming his lips back down again, rhythm slowing. “Stop kissing me, fuck…”

“No.” You turn your face and he exhales, biting your throat now, sinking fully in and throbbing inside you. “Fucking brat, I swear.”

“Shut up and finish- mnh!” Suguru leans up and shoves you in that mating press now, looking down at you as his hair falls loose and silky and long, brushing the backs of your thighs.

“Need my cum so bad, pathetic girl?”

“Monkey.” You finish, and he pauses, it’s been weeks since he’s said it during sex to you, shit a week since he said it at all. Any time someone else said it he’d end them, so people don’t talk that way anymore.

But the irony is it’s his creation, calling others that.

“You only shut up when I lick you, even dick apparently doesn’t work.” You flush at that, and he’s spitting down between your thighs now, obscene as he does it, running that rough thumb on your clit again as you scream out. “There we go, you can’t help yourself, feels too good.”

“Hate you. Hate you.” You’re whispering even as you shatter, milking his cock so that he cums right with you, groaning out loud, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Perfect little cunt, fuck…” He’s whispering, as he watches the creamy stripes already oozing from your little hole, moaning as he sees it, releasing your thighs. “You took so much, but you’re just pushing it all out.”

“There’s enough cum, you cum so much, ugh.” You grumble, voice breathy as he chuckles so cruelly, finally pulling out of you, dripping with your slick and his seed, sticky and glistening.

“Clean it up then.” He gets on his back now, yanking you until you’re on his face, you gasp then.

“Suguru…”

“Fuck…” He’s parting your drooling lips as you brace yourself on either side of him, feeling the tip of his tongue flick on your overstimulated clit. “Saying my name? Are you only sweet when I eat you out?”

“Shut it.” You lap at his sticky tip, he jerks in your hand, still mostly hard as he’s moaning against you, making you drip out more of his cum right on his lips, mixed with how slick you are.

“Pretty pussy so beat up.”

“Pretty, hmm?” You are met with him shoving up his cock deep, as you suck as much as you can of him, you’ve sucked him a few times now, times when you can’t help yourself.

You love to.

But you don’t want him having the satisfaction.

Though you’ve never done… this, sitting on his face while he laps you up, his huge hands on your hips, while his tongue scoops the cum pouring, only making you closer again. Your eyes roll back as you suck him deeper, losing yourself in the sensations again, it's hard to remember when his tongue devours you that he’s a mass murderer who ‘hates you’.

“Suguru…” You’re pulling back for a moment, pulling away as he flicks your clit again and again, hot breath right on your core, and he glares, yanking you back.

“Don’t run, now, let me get her ready for me again.” You just whine, pathetically, shaking your head.

“M’gonna cum-”

“Cum, then. Now.” You sure won’t be taking his orders, but he sucks your tiny clit in his mouth, shoving his cock up with a thrust of his hips, and you are cumming, just like he fucking said. Your thighs shake on either side of his pretty face, as he licks you clean, his own cock fully hard and ready again in your throat. “Finally being good?”

“Mmm, never…” He laughs at you, tapping your hips as you shakily get off him, just to yank you on top, sliding his length between your puffy lips. Your hands brace on his chest, your flushed face so gorgeous he can’t think for a moment. “Must we… so frequently? Shouldn’t I take a test?”

Suguru pauses then.

“And if you are, will you stop your duties as my wife?” He asks, while you grind on him, and you’re exhaling, trying to focus.

“What’s Kyoto?”

“Jesus… just fuck me, don’t talk.”

“That’s all we do!”

“That’s all I enjoy to do with you, it’s the only time you’re not a mean little bitch.” You glare now, leaning back and slapping his cheek, he slaps you right back, while he drags you on his cock, and you scream in pleasure, tits right in his face bouncing with the motion. “There you go, can’t help yourself.”

“Hate you… what the…” He slaps your tits now, as you whine out in pleasure, he leans up to suck one in his mouth, moaning, cheeks hollowed as he does. “Tell me nothing, hmm?”

“It’s an attack, okay? Will you focus on riding dick, your technique is pathetic.” You scowl again, rolling your hips just so and grinding with him bottomed out, smirking as you elicit a whimper.

“Whining like a little bitch, the almighty Lord Geto.”

“God I hate you.” He whispers, pulling you by your hair and kissing you again, so brutal and bruising while he shoves his cock up inside you, skin sweaty and slick from the two of you.

“Attack for what?” You whisper, close to cumming again.

“A thousand curses, will take out every non-sorcerer… f-fuck you feel so… mmm… and anyone who stops me.” You pause at that, unmoving, looking at him in horror now.

“What!?” You earn his scowl, he flips you on the other side of the bed, on top again, a hand on your mouth, as you yank at it.

“I’m killing everyone in that city that’s human. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe, you’re with me.” Your parents live in Kyoto, he doesn’t even let you argue, sinking deeper, shaking his head.

“My parents-”

“Your parents, my parents, baby they’re all gonna die soon.” You’re in horror and shock as the door knocks again, and Suguru rolls violet eyes. “I said I’m busy!”

“Satoru Gojo is here, Lord Geto. You may want to… see this.” Suguru freezes over you.

“You’re gonna kill our parents!? Everyone!? Really!”

“Have I ever made it a secret?” He scoffs, pulling out of you and making you flush in embarrassment as he looks at your body. “I said I’d make an exception, why is that not enough? What more must I constantly do?”

“I don’t know- not be a murderer psycho!?” He’s scowling again as he gets dressed, and you hastily follow.

“I’ll be out there in just a moment.” He says gruffly and you’re following him out, earning him constantly glaring back at you. “I’ll knock you out with a sleeping curse if you don’t stop.”

“Thought I was supposed to go everywhere with you, as your wife, hmm?” His jaw locks as you two step outside, the brightness blinding for just a moment, as several of Suguru’s cult members are ready to fight Gojo, who’s just smirking, turning his attention to the two of you then.

“You paid me a visit, figured I’d return the favor buddy.” Satoru says with a big grin, and Suguru smirks so damn evil, while Satoru eyes you behind the veil of white thin material, face softening a bit. “Who’s the pretty girl, and why is she near you?”

“My wife, okay?” Satoru pauses, while Suguru steps closer, crossing his arms under his wide robes. “What’s it to you?”

Satoru pulls up his white wrapped blindfold, one cerulean eye meeting yours, swirling storms that you could never forget, looking back at Suguru, glossy lips turning up in a smirk. Suguru scowls right at him, when Satoru puts his hands in the pockets of his dark blue pants, tilting his silvery locks as he steps just a bit closer, his shoes glinting under the light with each step.

“A non-curse user married to the infamous Suguru Geto.” Gojo whistles now, walking closer until he’s right in front of you.

“Arranged marriage.” Suguru says, making you tense, feeling sick to your stomach, sure you know it’s true, but…

Perhaps you thought you were a little more?

“Ah, need me to take her off your hands?” Satoru taunts, grinning as he puts his blindfold back on, and you watch Suguru stiffen, before he glares.

“The fuck you say?”

“You hate humans, I’ll take her with me. Sure she’d prefer that over certain death, hmm?”

“You won’t take her any fucking where.”

“Why, it’s forced, right?” Satoru’s lilting voice was laced with sarcasm, as he looks right through Suguru, the way you do, the way Shoko had so casually the day he last saw her, the way only people…

People he loved did.

Fuck he can’t, he doesn’t, but as Satoru brushes your hair back gently and you eye him curiously, he grips one of Satoru’s wrists tightly, and he can feel the goddamn gaze behind that blindfold. Knowing, still caring somehow, though Suguru doesn’t deserve his care, nor does he deserve you.

If he loved you enough, he’d let you run the fuck away with Satoru, perhaps he could keep you safe, from the monster Suguru had become.

But he can’t stand the thought of you gone.

“Is it because she’s pregnant?”

“What!?” Suguru demands, and he lifts his blindfold again, eyeing you with those powerful six eyes that everyone knows the Gojo heir has, as you touch your tummy, looking at Satoru in shock.

“It’s brand new, won’t even show up on a test, but you are.” Satoru’s voice is just a little soft, you could feel how he felt horrible for you, but also you could still feel the love he had for his former best friend.

“You can see?” You murmur softly, as Suguru’s lips are parted.

“I can see a lot. I see you care about her, hmm?”

“You need to leave, to prepare for when I come.”

“Suguru!” His name on your lips makes him pause, as you look at him with tears now. “You can’t do it.”

“Oh I can’t hmm?” Suguru’s struggling to remember his motives, all he can think of is that there’s a fucking baby in you already.

“You can’t do this, what life will this baby even have?”

“A better one, when the scum is off this earth.”

“Including her?” Satoru says now, and Suguru’s jaw locks, violet eyes narrowed with his lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, the wind starts whipping around the three of you, as you feel Satoru’s immense energy. It’s far surpassing Suguru’s, intense to withhold as it surrounds him. “If you hate humans, you hate her.”

“That’s… she’s mine.”

“Your human?”

“She’s my…” He stands in front of you now, as Satoru grins, chuckling just a bit. “She’s my wife and has my heir, she won’t leave my fucking sight.”

Suguru never wants you to leave him, the thought makes his heart clench with fear, his very energy shifting, and Satoru picks up on it. “Oh so you’ll just kill her once she has your heir?”

“No I…”

“Why not, care about someone again?” Suguru bristles at that, at his friend seeing everything with one glance, Satoru has always been that way.

“So perceptive now, are you?”

Satoru’s jaw locks. “Now, yes, and you are blinded, can’t even see what’s here for you, can you?”

“Satoru fuckin leave, go prepare now because I sure the fuck am coming prepared to kill everyone in that city, including you.” Suguru stomps away, as Satoru sighs, stepping closer to you.

“Are you alright here?” He murmurs, you nod then, carefully. “I can get you out of here.”

“You what?” You blink just a bit, and Suguru is shouting your name, glaring at the two of you.

“You love him too, don’t you?” Satoru’s question makes you question yourself, your own heart, things you’re trying to shove back, to avoid. But it’s as if Satoru knows you better than yourself and almost like you can feel the love he himself has, the care radiating under his powerful energy.

“No! God no…” You falter, and Satoru exhales, brushing the backs of his fingers across your cheek, and you feel Suguru summon a curse right around you, making you gasp.

“Back the fuck off.” Suguru speaks through gritted teeth, Satoru just smirks, waving off Suguru’s curse like it’s nothing.

“You see them.”

“Yes, I can, some… family trait.” You murmur softly.

“Hmm, interesting. I can still take you away, just say the word.”

You hate Suguru.

Suguru is a psycho murderer.

Right?

“Or…”

“Or?” Suguru’s now got his people around him, his cult, his minions, making you sick as they gather, as if they’re putting a dent in Satoru Gojo.

“Or… you try to stop him.”

“Me!? He fucking hates me, he thinks-”

“Nah. He certainly doesn’t hate you, in fact… maybe only you can get through to him.” He rubs the back of his neck, as Suguru and his group start stepping forward. “I’ve tried, I’m… fucking tired.”

“If you don’t get through, how can I?” Your voice is hoarse, Satoru leans down a bit, voice dropping to a murmur.

“He feels something. Try to… just buy me some time could you?” You gulp now, as you touch your stomach again.

“I’ll try, Gojo.” He smiles at you then, the smile you remember has changed he's… sadder now.

“You have something on here…” He brushes long fingers against your neck, making you tremble a bit at the contact, then blush. You'd only been with Suguru and it wasn't either of your choices, so you wonder if it's just … someone else touching you? Or if it's his intense energy, but soon you notice a little piece of paper that he's placed there. “In case you need me.”

You nod, tucking it in your robes. “Thank you…”

“Good luck with… all of it.”  He disappears with one more sad look at Suguru, who's now scowling as he walks over to you. “Go to your room until I say you can leave.”

“What!?”

“Now you’ll be seen as a weakness.” He says, in disgust at the thought, looking at you furiously.

“Why, when you don’t care?” Your words make him furious, how can you not know what he feels?

“I do care, that’s the problem.”

“Oh, I’m a problem!?”

“Go. Now.” You shake your head at him, and he grabs you by your chin, squeezing it tightly. “Go to your room for the rest of the night, I will not repeat myself, or would you like your parents dead earlier?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” You say through your sobs that are rising in your throat, and Suguru pauses, guilt flashing as he sees what he’s already done to you, and he hasn’t even started.

“Now.” You rush off as he stares, and the others gather, he aches to follow you when you slam that door, when he hears your cries, but he does nothing. “Someone lock her doors from the inside out.”

******

It’s been all night you’ve been stuck in this goddamn room, and of course you have no phone in here, Suguru lets you use a cell phone to speak to your parents but he never really lets you keep it in your room. Finally, it’s gotta be late, you’ve lost sense of time but the locked windows of your room show it’s dark out, the door opens with a resounding click.

You peer and see him then, furious at you as he stands there, and you step up to the doorway. “Locking me away like this is beauty and the beast, huh?”

“Might as well be, isn’t that what we are?” He raises a brow, and you gulp now, shaking your head.

“No, you’re beautiful. On the outside.” You watch Suguru pause now, face softening a bit. “If I’m pregnant, shouldn’t I be allowed to eat?”

“I didn’t say… you think…”

“You’ve locked me in here for hours.” Your tummy growls as if on cue, and Suguru feels like…

God worse than shit.

His best friend had just been there, and now the girl he’s fallen for is starving and apparently… pregnant. If Gojo is to be believed, there’s life inside of you already, and what sort of life would it be when you’re living in constant terror from him? But Suguru is too far down this path, as much as he will make an exception for you, he will not do that for anyone else.

His family and yours included, eventually.

“So you know, your parents are on vacation.” You exhale in relief, but then instantly feel guilty.

What about everyone else?

“Can I have a phone to talk to them, please?”

He shrugs then. “Sure, I’ll have one brought to you along with dinner.”

“So I have to stay here!?”

“Until you calm down.” He shuts the door again as you glare at it, and he’s resting his head on the other side, despising himself.

“Suguru, really!?”

It’s of no use. With dinner and a phone in a little bit, you devour it, realizing then that you are starving, you’d fucked the man all morning and are apparently… carrying his baby, and haven’t eaten anything. The door opens and Suguru stands there once again, crossing his arms and looking down at you.

“You can come to my chambers if you behave.” You’ll behave alright.

Knowing it to be your chance to attempt to get to him in any way, you agree. As you walk down the halls, seeing his daughters giggling as if everything’s fine, Suguru pats them on the head as he pauses, and when they leave, he looks at you. “So if they were human, what would you do?”

“I asked you to behave.”

“Did you think of Gojo and-”

“Forget who you belong to?” He says angrily, hands on your shoulders now, heat burning you through the silk of your robes.

“It’s just all arranged, yeah?” Your retort leaves him breathless, sputtering, as he catches you by your wrist.

“It was arranged, but let me explain-”

“Nothing you say makes any fucking sense!” You're yanking your arm, now he is dragging you to his room, you're stumbling helplessly, following his quick pace until he's slammed the door behind you.

“You are mine, all mine.” He whispers, huge hands on your face, as you bite a trembling lip.

“Suguru, you can’t do this. Please.”

“Stop telling me what I can or can’t do. Why, think I’m not powerful enough?” He slams a hand on one side of your head, making you tense.

“Is that all this is, who’s more powerful? Does this mean nothing?” You take that hand putting it on your stomach now, as he gulps audibly, his already tired eyes even more heavy.

“The heir.”

“The baby, say it.”

“Baby…” He murmurs, almost in wonder for a moment, before stepping back, as you feel your heart shattering. “You’ll stay here, you’ll be safe. I’ll have guards if they come to retaliate.”

“Oh, so it’s all fine then, you’re gonna what, kill other kids!? Pregnant women!? Does that make you feel good, Suguru, so fucking strong?” You shove at him now, and his dark brows lower, jaw clenched.

“You will be safe.”

“For how long, until your hatred overtakes you, and you remember what I am. Say it, huh?” He’s squeezing your wrists, shoving you off him, pinning them above your head as he leans down, the ticking of the clock on his wall matching the rhythm of your pounding heart.

Tick tick tick.

How long until your heart stops beating?

“You’re… more.” He wants to say it then, that he loves you, a human… that he’s never felt like this, even with the love of his friends.

Nothing like it.

You scoff right at him. “Tiny, pathetic, useless, but you’re different, okay? I know that you are.”

“I’m a human. Say it. Say monkey, isn’t that what I am?” He glares at you now, shaking his head, and you laugh then, a mean little laugh. “Can’t now, why?”

“You’re… I… just shut the fuck up.” He slams his lips down on your brutally, your arms are going numb until he releases them, his tongue diving inside your mouth, drinking every bit of you up as you whine softly. “I need you.”

You blink a bit, disoriented at his words, as he picks you up in his arms, and you cling to him, tears filling your eyes. “Why? I’m pregnant now, remember?”

“You think Gojo knows?”

“He knows a lot. He knows you.” Suguru glares now, your back against that wall, as his hands grip your ass, and you feel his hard body against you. “He loves you.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” He’s kissing you again, as you exhale, trying to catch a breath, trying to control the storm inside of you. “No one should love me.” He murmurs against your neck, teeth sinking in, making you cling to him, nails scraping against the silk of his robes.

“Why n-not? You’re not t-too far-”

“Baby, I’m no good.” He whispers now, in your ear, and you know it’s true, you know that Suguru Geto is a fucking monster.

But you also know one thing too.

You’re in love with him.

In love with a monster who wants to end the world.

“Then why do you need me? Huh? Go get one of your girls, I’m pregnant already.” Suguru scowls as he leans back, and you bite back a moan as he moves against your hot, eager cunt.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?”

“Shut up.”

“No! We won’t.” You wriggle until you’re out of his hold, and heading for his door, he presses your front against it, hand on yours on that knob. “Let me go. You said once I got pregnant, you were done. Remember?”

Suguru said a lot, a lot of bullshit.

He called you disgusting, useless, trash, a monkey… but as you look at him the way you do, you’re breaking him, in between making his desire to take you grow by every fucking minute. He cups your face, brushing aside your tears, you always cried over him, didn’t you? He’s not worth them, he’s not worth any of you, yet he’s so obsessed and greedy he still takes.

“We don’t have to stop. We both enjoy this, don’t I make you feel good?” He’s slipping his fingers, moaning when he finds your soaked panties under your pretty yukata, and you clench your teeth, eyes rolling back. “We can give this a chance, having this baby.”

“A chance?” You whisper, in between hiccups of pleasure as he keeps teasing your clit over and over, and you find yourself arching against him.

“To be together. I know they’ll be special- like you.”

“I am a fucking human.”

“No.” He’s sinking two fingers in your slutty little hole, as those sticky walls grip his thick digits so good, as he loses himself in your scent, your feel, the sound of you, every fucking bit. “You’re special, you’re more, I know it.”

“Mnh… I hate you…” You cry out as he pumps more and more, thighs shaking while he works you so damn well.

“I know you hate me. You should… go ahead, cum f’me.”

“Call me it.”

“No.”

“Useless, pathetic- weak, worthless-”

“Beautiful.”

“No!” You’re fighting it, turning in his hold, as he sucks your juices off his fingers, getting on his knees for you, and you’re faltering again. “Don’t call me that.”

“You are beautiful. Do you not know?”

“Shut up. I hate you more for it.” Your tears stream further down your face, as he tries to grip you by the hips, to drag you closer to him. “You act as if you could ever love me.”

Suguru blinks then, pressing a kiss on your tummy for a moment, making you both pause. “We can have a perfect world.”

“It’s a massacre, it’s murder, it’s not perfect! Killing everyone that doesn’t meet your standards? Suguru please just stop. Stop it.”

He scowls now, standing tall, looming right over you, your breath catches in your throat in fear. “I will not stop my plans. Gojo got you this fucked up from one meeting? Maybe you did like him then.”

You scoff now. “Your audacity is batshit. How can you be jealous of your arranged wife who is a human, that you said you didn’t wanna touch!?”

“I… you know I didn’t…”

“I don’t know shit, Suguru Geto. Except Gojo loves you, and fuck, I see glimpses of how and why. I do.” You cup his face then, he jerks back for a moment, like your touch is fire, as you cup the other side of his face. “If you love Gojo, and if you care for me one little bit, you won’t.”

“You assume I love anyone.” His words, lies, tear you apart.

You blink more tears, as Suguru lies right to your face. “You care.”

“So what!? That’s why you’ll be safe.”

“And Gojo? And those damn kids from Jujutsu high, and the people of Kyoto, children, you’ll kill them?”

“Just go. You don’t want to now that you’re pregnant, right? Leave.”

“It’s not that, it’s that I want to know if anything good is fucking inside you, Suguru please just this one thing. Just don’t attack.”

His jaw sets as he pulls your hands off, and they fall to your sides, while he glares down at you. “I’ll give him another week to prepare, you can let him know since you’re suddenly his friend, hmm?”

“He loves you. Don’t you see it? Can’t you still be worthy of it? Of… my love?” You whisper, after he’s turned away, and Suguru laughs darkly.

“You could never love me.”

“How do you know- if you’d just try, Suguru!”

“I’ll give it a week. That’s the best you’re getting.”

“Is there any room for me or this baby in whatever heart you have left, with all that hatred inside you?” You whisper, he turns to open his mouth, but you storm out of his room, sobbing as you rush down the halls, leaving him alone, picturing his friend brushing your hair back.

Gojo would be better for you, wouldn’t he?

But Suguru doesn’t think he could ever let you go, even when he brings you to tears, even when he himself feels moisture that hasn’t been there in so long, memories and images of happiness filling him. Of you and a baby, maybe they look pretty like their mom, maybe they’re fiery like you, maybe they’re…

Human.

He sinks to the ground then, head falling against the door.

What if they’re human?

You’re collapsing on your bed, in tears, trying to pull yourself together, finally getting the number Satoru had conveniently hidden in your collar, pulling it out and dialing it, sniffling. “Hello?”

“I tried… I tried but…”

“Shh, hey, calm down.” Satoru sits up in his empty home, hearing your cries, some odd ache to comfort you filling him.

If anyone knows what it’s like to love Suguru Geto, despite all his flaws and his intentions, it’s Satoru Gojo. But also… you seemed so fragile, so small in a home that all hated you. And yet he saw it in your eyes, pretty eyes, full of fear but also feelings, and then he knew that you care for him, as much as Suguru cared for you, so very clear to Satoru.

“It’s okay… it’s not all on you.” Satoru says, his voice comforting your aching heart now.

“He said another week he would give you.” Satoru sighs then, nodding.

“A week is better, more time to prepare.”

“I tried, he doesn’t… he won’t…”

“I know. You love him.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Neither should I, but I remember my best friend, the only friend I had.” Your heart tears apart for the person Suguru used to be, and now for Satoru, who you barely know, but you feel it, the longing, the loneliness.

“I don’t know if he’s in there. I don’t know if I can face him if he does it.”

“You bought me time, sweetheart, thank you okay? You can only do so much right now.” He says softly, and you take a shaky breath.

“I see why you two were close, you’re kind of comforting.”

“Comforting hmm, I don’t think I was back then.” Satoru remembers being a little shithead, conceited, cocky. “I don’t think I was there when he needed me, when he needed someone. I can’t forgive myself for it.”

“You should.” You lay on your back now, staring up at the intricate patterns on the ceiling, as the warmth of the phone touches your cheek. “What are you gonna do, Gojo?”

“Try to save everyone, of course. Should be a piece of cake.” You snort then, as he laughs a bit, deterring the situation some. “I meant it, I can get you away, somewhere safe.”

“Why would you?”

“You didn’t choose this. You’re just… a girl. You know?”

“Pregnant, really?”

“Mmm, yeah I’m pretty sure. It’s a certain energy I can pick up on, like more than one in your body.”

“I should go, I’ll be fine, I don't think he’d hurt me… in any way other than… hurting others.” He hurts you in his own ways, sure, but Suguru doesn’t realize how much he’s hurting you, pushing you away. You shouldn’t care, you should have known he was this way, but something in you loves him, against it all.

Do you love the monster or the man still inside?

“All right, if you’re sure.” Satoru says softly, cutting your thoughts off as you blink a bit.

“Satoru, will you… kill him if you had to?” He hears the fear, the thoughts he has in his own mind clearly connecting with you, the last thing Satoru ever wanted to do was kill him.

“I’d try everything else first, but I have to defend the kids, and everyone else… if it comes to it, I… shit I don’t wanna think of it.” You hear his emotions, sighing as you come to understand his meaning.

“Is there any of him left?” You ask softly, Satoru takes off his blindfold, pouring himself a drink and leaning against the counter, pressing you against his ear.

“You want to know if the Suguru you met that day is in there?”

“What was he… like, even?”

Satoru laughs a bit, without humor. “He was a little shit.”

“Well, he’s still that.” You both laugh softly, shit it’s the first time you can recall laughing since you’ve been here almost.

“He was arrogant, but he was kind, he thought we should help the weak, I argued with him. He stopped me from… doing some rash things. We lost a few people, and he grew distant, I wish I noticed… or…”

“He wanted to protect the weak?”

“Yes.” You can’t fathom that it's the same man, sighing a bit now, shifting in the bed as sleep starts to tug at you somehow, though you’re scared to even close your eyes. 

“You really loved him.”

“I still do.” He clears his throat a bit now, Satoru’s never really shared how he felt until you, a stranger on a phone, married to his former friend, but for some reason he feels you understand more than anyone. Your voice alone, speaking the words, are something he didn’t know he craved.

“I will keep trying if I can, but I can’t face him right now.”

“Just get some rest, if you need me I’ll get you away. But I hope… I hope he’s still him, somewhere.”

“Me too. Good night, Satoru.”

“Good night.” You hang up, leaving his mind whirling, thinking of your pretty forlorn face, wishing he could save you, wishing he could save his damn best friend, and everyone else. “An extra week, huh…”

You curl up and pass out shortly after, in nightmare after nightmare, hating Suguru, loving Suguru, images of Satoru in there too, of them killing each other, hurting each other. Villages burning, a city in ruins, Suguru’s curses everywhere, so vivid and real you’re tossing and turning, unable to wake up, even as you scream out loud in your sleep.

Suguru is in your chambers then, watching what he’s done, sitting by your side as you toss and turn, gently touching your forehead, sweaty from your exertions. “Shh, Princess…”

Princess.

Why’d he say that?

Why couldn’t he call you it- monkey- anymore?

“Suguru don’t… I love you…” He pauses at your words, on your lips incoherent, tears glistening in the dark room. “Don’t… you’re hurting me… never loved me…”

“I do, fuck I do.” He leans down, holding you, he’s never spent the night with you, of course you wouldn’t allow it, but he’s never even held you.

What’s he done, but fuck you good and try to make you forget how horrible he truly is? As you calm now, blinking a bit, in and out of a daze. “Suguru?” You whisper, fear in your pretty eyes, mixed with more.

He caused this.

How could you even have a baby like this?

“Go to sleep, you were screaming so loud everyone is up.” He huffs, lying to you now, and you pull back.

“I’m fine. Just go, sorry I was having nightmares.” He pulls you back against him now, his strong chest, warmth you ache to sink against, all while you try to picture a world in which he wasn’t evil, wasn’t insane, wasn’t bloodthirsty. A world where he’s just a boy and you’re just a girl, cuddling in bed.

It’s a lovely dream, but you know it’s fake.

“Get to sleep.” His soft order is met with him pulling you even closer, covering you both with a blanket, and for one moment, you let yourself believe the lie, that Suguru could be himself again. That he’d give up this insanity for you.

A beautiful lie, really.

You nestle against him, wrapping an arm around his waist, burying your tired face against his neck, and Suguru feels himself breaking in two. Part of him wants to just… go back to how things were, to be good for you, but there’s still such hatred that’s eaten at him for years. Consuming him.

He knows hatred will win.

But as he holds the girl he loves, he hopes she’ll forgive him for what he's about to do.

More angst cominggg- this will be 6 parts loves <3

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[my-castles-crumbling]

freshman - march 1 - jegulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - NSFW (implied sex but not detailed) - word count: 523

“....so fucking perfect, guys,” James said reverently, laying on his dorm bed and grinning, knowing he had been rambling for too long, and yet completely unable to stop. He’d been talking about this all day, and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Thinking about him. “He had…God, the most perfect eyes, and this little smirk that just…fuck. And his body. Fuck, I would’ve been happy just staring, but then he just dragged me into that room, and pushed me on the bed-”

“We’re happy for you, mate,” Sirius interrupted, grinning, even though all of them had heard the story of James’s mystery man at least ten times. “Glad you had fun at the party.”

“Oh, the party was awful. Right, Pete?” James asked Peter, who still looked a bit pale from the amount of alcohol he’d consumed. 

“I think so,” Peter mumbled, head in his hands.

“But fuck, it didn’t even matter. That guy was….” James grinned and launched into the more specific details again.

Remus and Peter seemed to zone out, but Sirius, the amazing friend he was, smiled and nodded along as James went on and on, giving a play-by-play, asking the appropriate questions and giving the appropriate reactions.

“...and I think I’m in love,” James finished, after giving the details about how he and the other man finished. “But I’m kicking myself because I didn’t get his number! Didn’t even get his name!”

“M’sure you’ll see him soon,” Sirius said bracingly, clapping him on the shoulder. “The school’s small. Which reminds me– Reg’s starting as a freshman here this year! I told him to stop by to visit soon, so he can meet all of you.”

The others made noises of excitement. Ever since they’d started rooming together at University last year, they’d heard a lot about Regulus, and everyone was eager to meet him. Before any more could be said, there was a knock on the door of their room.

“Reg!” Sirius yelled, ignoring Peter’s moan of complaint at his loudness. He bounded off of his bed and wrenched open the door. “Mates, this is-”

James stared into the gray-blue eyes he’d been thinking about for the past twelve hours and gasped out loud. “Fuck,” he mumbled, his shock mirrored in Regulus’s own expression.

It was Remus who realized first, and Peter shortly after. They broke into fits of giggles as Sirius still looked between James and Regulus confusedly, obviously missing something. But after twenty blissful seconds, he gasped a truly horrified gasp. 

“Oh no,” he cried, turning a deep shade of maroon. “Oh my God. James!” He pointed a shaking finger at James, who had a hand over his mouth. “You-you told me all about how much you love shagging my brother!? You gave me details! Oh fuck, I asked questions!”

James glanced at Regulus, who seemed to be struggling not to join in on Remus and Peter’s laughter. He sent James a smirk and said. “That good, eh?”

And James couldn’t help but nod. “Yeah,” he admitted, voice rough.

“Someone kill me,” Sirius wailed in the background.

But James was too busy staring at Regulus again.

[rosiecosy]

the hickey scandal˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

(ot13 x reader) — fluff

you were bored.

which, in seventeen’s world, usually meant chaos was about to happen.

and today’s chaos? a fake hickey.

a little smudge of red and purple eyeshadow on your neck, just barely peeking out from under your collar. it was perfect.

you casually strolled into the waiting room where the members were lounging, sipping on your drink like nothing was out of the ordinary.

but seventeen was seventeen. and seventeen noticed everything.

"wait." dino’s eyes locked onto her neck immediately. "wait, wait, wait, WAIT."

"…what?" you blinked innocently.

"WHAT IS THAT?!" he practically shrieked, pointing at your neck like it was a crime scene.

"what’s what?"

"DON’T PLAY DUMB," seungkwan hollered, already on his feet.

"oh my god," mingyu gasped, nearly dropping his phone. "IS THAT A—"

"IT CAN’T BE," joshua said, but he sounded disturbed.

seungcheol stood up so fast his chair scraped across the floor. "come here."

her eyes widened. "uh… no?"

"Y/N," jeonghan said, voice dangerously soft. "you’re hiding something."

"i’m literally not—"

"WHOSE HANDS HAVE BEEN ON YOU?" hoshi suddenly dove across the couch, grabbing your shoulders.

"GET OFF ME—"

"who is it?" minghao asked, completely serious. "do we know them?"

"are they alive?" wonwoo muttered darkly.

"let’s not jump to violence—" joshua started.

"violence is the answer," woozi interrupted.

"GUYS," you groaned. "IT’S NOT A BIG DEAL."

"NOT A BIG DEAL?!" seungcheol exploded. "OUR BABY HAS BEEN—"

"—DEFILED," jun finished dramatically.

"STOP SAYING THAT," you yelled.

vernon, sitting quietly in the corner, just stared at you. "damn."

"NO, NOT DAMN," SEUNGKWAN SHOUTED. "VERNON, WHY ARE YOU CALM?!"

"she’s grown," vernon shrugged. "let her cook."

"COOK WHAT?!"

by now, the room was absolute chaos.

seungcheol was pacing. seungkwan was having a meltdown. dino looked like he was about to cry. jeonghan had gone completely silent, which was somehow worse.

woozi, arms crossed, stared at you. "if you don’t tell us who, we will find out."

"guys, please," you sighed, barely holding in your laughter. "it’s really not that deep."

but before you could say anything else—

mingyu grabbed his phone. "i’m calling our manager."

"WHAT?!"

"we need to check security footage," he said seriously.

"YOU ARE NOT CHECKING SECURITY FOOTAGE FOR THIS," you screamed.

"i already texted them," joshua said calmly.

"OH MY GOD."

"y/n," seungcheol said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "if you don’t tell us the truth right now—"

you opened your mouth—

but then dino sniffled.

you froze.

"we raised you better than this," he mumbled, eyes glossy.

"OH MY GOD, DINO," you cried.

"i can’t believe we have to let her go," jun sighed dramatically.

"YOU DON’T HAVE TO LET ME GO, I’M STILL RIGHT HERE—"

"it’s always the youngest ones," vernon muttered.

she looked at woozi desperately. "help me."

he shook his head. "you brought this on yourself."

you groaned, slumping onto the couch. they were never going to drop this.

and at this point… telling them the truth was way less fun.

so instead, you sipped your drink, shrugged, and said—

"i guess you’ll never know."

that was the final straw.

"GET HER."

you barely made it two steps before twelve very determined members tackled you to the floor.

[hy6erion]

I have just been having the worst (maybe best who knows) ideas about Viktor with a breeding kink.

Oh anon, you’ve just sent me into a spiral (≧◡≦)!! Viktor with a breeding kink?? Whispering in that sweet accent about keeping you full, making sure it takes… oh no, I’m doomed <33

Fic under the cut (´ ω `♡)

⇢ 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫

It starts the way most things do with Viktor—an observation, a hypothesis, a slow descent into obsession.

You noticed the shift in him before he did. The way his hands lingered on your hips longer than usual, the way his sharp golden eyes trailed down your body, calculating. Viktor has always been touch-starved, but this was different.

It wasn’t until one late night in the lab, when he had you pressed against the desk, your legs hooked over his forearm, that you heard the first slip of it.

“Look at you…” he murmured, his breath hot against your throat, each word thick with reverence. His hips snapped forward, slow and deep, pushing himself as far inside as he could reach. His fingers dug into your waist, holding you still, trapping you. “Taking me so well. So eager, hm? Such a perfect thing… meant to be filled.”

Your breath hitched, nails digging into his back as heat coiled in your belly. His words alone sent a shiver through you, a molten need pooling between your thighs.

“Viktor—”

“I wonder…” His pace quickened, just slightly, enough to make you feel every inch of him dragging against your walls. “If I keep you like this, over and over… would you swell with my child?”

Your moan was immediate, head falling back against the desk.

Viktor groaned, his grip on you tightening like a vice. “You like that, don’t you?” His voice was unsteady, broken with desire. “The thought of it—of carrying something we created?” His hand splayed over your lower belly possessively, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin. “Mine.”

You clenched around him, and he felt it. The way you pulsed at his words, your body responding to the very idea.

His control snapped.

He gritted his teeth, a growl ripping from his throat as he buried himself as deep as he could go, his pace turning desperate. His breath came in short, needy pants against your ear, his forehead pressed to yours.

“I will make sure of it,” he whispered, voice raw with determination. “Again and again, until it takes.”

His thrusts became erratic, the sharp slap of skin-on-skin echoing through the lab. Every movement, every broken gasp was filled with intent—this wasn’t just pleasure, this was purpose.

His fingers tangled with yours, pinning your hands to the desk as he pushed, stretching you around him with every brutal roll of his hips.

“You will look beautiful like that,” he groaned, his voice dark, reverent. “Round, full of me… a true creation of science and love?”

Your body tensed, the coil inside you winding impossibly tight. The way he spoke—like he was designing the future with every thrust—sent you over the edge with a cry, your walls fluttering around him.

Viktor cursed, his body stiffening. His hips stuttered once, twice—then he was spilling inside you with a deep, shuddering groan, pressing himself flush against you like he could make it stay.

For a long moment, all you could hear was the ragged sound of your breaths mingling, the warmth of him settling deep inside you.

And then, Viktor let out a breathless chuckle, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“…We should do this again,” he mused, voice still heavy with exhaustion and something far more dangerous—satisfaction. His fingers traced lazy circles over your lower belly, his golden eyes gleaming with quiet possessiveness. “Just to be certain.”

And just like that, his obsession had a new purpose.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

not editing this or proofreading it. school is hard, so all you guys get is my shower thoughts for now 😔 this shit is so unserious. i also lost motivation for this one, so… have this

cw- demon!sukuna, chubby!reader, smut, mdni

imagine summoning demon sukuna on accident in your sleep only to find out he’s actually an incubi.

he stares at you with a smoldering gaze as his wets his lips with his forked tongue. he’s eager to indulge, and you are the perfect prey.

seeing this as something you can use to your own advantage, you ask him to take care of your little “problem”… the problem being that you’re a complete loser virgin.

also, this is just a dream, right? it’s not like you’re going to suffer any real life consequences! maybe your subconscious will come up with a juicy enough scenario to satisfy your urges without having to look for a real man because… ew.

the only dick you’re getting is in your dreams… that is until he reveals to you that he actually has two dicks.

“o-oh!” you gape as you’re unable to tear your eyes away from him. two whole dicks… his presence is suffocating in your mind.

“already taking back your request, woman?” he asks in a low rumble. he’s definitely challenging you right now.

“no! it’s not like it’ll hurt-“

your words are cut off by him removing the sheets that were covering your body. he curls a finger into the waistband of your panties, and he can feel his mouth already begin to salivate from the promise of burying his tongue so deeply into your weeping pussy until you’re writhing and begging for a break.

however, his one track mind is completely halted once he lays eyes on said slickened pussy.

“what- is something wrong?” you quickly ask, looking down for yourself. not a fictional dream man already making you feel self conscious about your body.

“you’re hairless.” he notes bluntly, leaning in to get a closer inspection.

“stop that!” you bat him away, crossing your legs so he can’t see you anymore.

“don’t hide yourself from me.” you swear you hear him growl as he forces your plush thighs back open. he leans in closer, and he takes a deep breath. the scent of your arousal has him throbbing in need, but he’s completely mesmerized by the fact that there’s not any hair.

“did you just sniff me-?” you ask, unsure if you want the answer to that question or not.

“you smell normal.” he remarks with the same blunt tone. he then leans into you — his warm breath caresses your sensitive skin, and you feel your back arch involuntarily for him.

his tongue laps just once, savoring you as if he’s at a fucking wine tasting, and your virgin ass is already on the cusp from a little lick. you whine, trying to lift your hips as if to silently ask for more.

“you taste perfect.” he continues with his observations before his long fingers gently caress the small bundle of nerves that only you have ever touched, and fuck, he’s so skilled with moving his hand in perfect circles until your damp cunt is making wet schlicking noises.

you nearly cum when he slips two fingers inside your inexperienced hole.

“feels normal.” he comments, not paying any mind to how you’re nearly coming undone on his hand.

“are you fucking— oh sh-shit… giving me a doctor’s visit right now?” you manage to pant out as you look down at the demon.

“just trying to figure out why you’re hairless.” he obliges you with an answer while casually pumping his fingers in and out, curling them to brush against a spot that makes you cry out.

“i-i shaved!” you answered him frantically, rolling your hips as you shamelessly grind against his hand. the incubis smirks at your clear desperation. he feeds on it.

“shaved?” he asks, stroking his fingers against that spot with more vigor until he’s recklessly pounding his fingers into you.

“yes- oh my—… i’m gonna cum… don’t stop. oh right there!”

“tell me more about this shaving thing. why would you do such a thing to your pretty cunt, hm?” he prompts as if he’s not relentlessly finger fucking your poor pussy.

you can’t give him an answer because you literally can’t think. this demon is making you see the gates of heaven with his fingers.

it’s not a minute later before you’re screaming out in pleasure, soaking his hand in your juices as you finish on his digits.

he leans his monstrous sized body over yours, still leisurely pumping his fingers in and out of your fluttering cunt as he gives you an expectant gaze. he’s still waiting on his answer.

“it’s mostly for… for aesthetic purposes,” you manage to breathe out while your body is still vibrating from your orgasm. you’ve played around a time or two with your toy, but it had never felt this damn good.

“aesthetic purposes for who? you’re a pathetic virgin, are you not?” he asks with a low chuckle. “you humans are so perplexing. you’re lucky i find the rest of you aesthetically pleasing.”

you feel your face warm as you look down at your body. no one usually compliments your body. being a big girl means getting compliments about your smile or your hair — never your body because it’s never good enough.

“you do..?” you ask, unsure of if he truly meant his words.

his fingers slowly slide out of your warm channel, causing you to shudder from the emptiness.

“oh pet, i wouldn’t have answered your pitiful calls if i didn’t find you so tantalizing,” he slowly reaches his hand up, and he pinches your nipple, “i’ll have so much fun with you,”

then, he’s gone.

you startle awake in your bed, leaning up and looking around as you pant heavily. that all felt so real. sukuna felt so real.

peaking under the blankets, your eyes widen as you can immediately see that your orgasm was real. your bedding is completely soaked…

and you can’t wait to try and summon him later tonight again.

[strangereads]

my two immediate reactions every time i see you've posted:

the not-so-subtle attempt to save face.. oh steve, honey... nice try! and also how could it not turn into an interrogation when the thought brings up about a million and one questions that BEG to be answered.

steve ready-to-bust-after-only-thirty-seconds harrington... i will eat him alive. i truly do want to lick. my hunger cannot be contained

dear god imm gonna pass out

in conclusion:

show-time

request: i cannot stop thinking about asking steve if he ever got himself off to you before you got together. he’d be so blushy and sheepish about it but man it’d be fun to watch him squirm 🤤

2.1k words, established relationship, masturbation (steve), gn!reader, MDNI this entire blog is 18+

It’s a universally awkward experience to have a sex-scene come on in a movie. Unless one’s watching it alone, of course.

You are not. Cuddled in behind you, cushioning you against his chest, Steve lounges, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Sure, in terms of awkwardness-rankings, watching this with your boyfriend who you also have sex with isn’t as bad as, like, watching with parents.

But still. You kinda can’t tell if you should be watching or averting your eyes — and you don’t want to peek over your shoulder to figure out what Steve’s doing.

The man in the film grunts, his hand in his pants jerking furiously, his eyes fixed on a polaroid of the film’s love interest.

You squint—surely this is stretching the truth a bit?

Yeah, yeah, guys jerk off, you know that - this isn’t your first day on earth.

You just didn’t think it would be like, romantic style. People in movies kiss in the rain and run through airports, so they’re hardly known for being grounded in reality.

The man in the film groans lewdly and you feel Steve shift slightly behind you, his fingers looped around your middle twitching.

Did he-? When you-? You suppose you’ve never really thought about it.

You’re asking before you can second guess yourself.

“Did you do this?”

Steve’s attention switches idly from the screen to you as you crane your neck to look back at him. His brows pinch together.

“Did I do what?” He asks, doting brown eyes searching your face.

You fluster a bit. This is certainly moving you up through the awkwardness rankings. But now it’s in your head —now you’ve said it — you can’t turn back.

The thought of it blazes hotly through your mind.

Steve, all those months ago, still just crushing on you, but never quite making a move. He’d told you, whispered his secret, when you’d finally gotten the nerve to ask him to be your boyfriend officially, that he’d been sweet on you far longer than you knew.

But the image of it is what has you interested. You imagine Steve, his fist stuffed into his tight jeans, working himself over and biting his fist to hide his moans, at the mere thought of you.

You’d had plenty of long, late night conversations on the phone before officially getting together.

The thought of if he’d ever touched himself while you talked, none the wiser on the other end, wanders into your mind — and your stomach clenches hotly at the thought.

Clearing your throat, you tip your head towards the screen.

“Like, before we got together?”

It takes Steve another glance at the screen to realise what you’re asking. A simmering, pink colour crawls up his neck and in a moment, you go from feeling awkward to feeling downright devious.

Steve clears his throat, his eyes darting rapidly back and forth from the screen to your face. “Uh, I- I mean, why do you ask?”

A coy smile curls at your mouth. “I wanna know how accurate it is.”

Steve stares down at you, the pink now creeping up his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. God, he looks delectable like this.

Is this how he looked when he did it too? Blushy and embarrassed to commit such a filthy act thinking of someone that wasn’t his? A hot buzz drizzles through your core, fringed with endearment.

Steve licks his lips nervously. His hands on your stomach stiffen and then relax. The film plays on in the background. His expression shifts towards something sheepish.

“It’s — I, uh, well, yes.” He stammers. “It’s accurate, yes.”

“How many times?”

Steve’s eyes narrow, but his face gets redder. “What is this, an interrogation now?”

You giggle, drinking in his evidently embarrassed state. The confirmation of him doing it solidifies the perfect image of him in your mind, your own film-scene imagining Steve in the same position as the character on screen. In real life, Steve moves his hand to tug at the collar of his shirt.

“I’m just… enjoying the idea of it.” You muse.

“Uh huh,” Steve says, tongue jammed into the side of his cheek. “Not just—” He fumbles for his words. “Just enjoying seeing me, I don’t know, like—”

His words trail off and his head tips back with a groan, exposing the delicious expanse of his throat. It begs you for kisses and love bites. He moves both hands up to cover his face.

You wait til he pulls them away to nod. “Absolutely, baby. Watching you squirm is far more interesting than this film.”

In the background, the man on screen gives a pornographic shout as he finishes in his pants. Steve manages to turn redder, even if he keeps his eyes fixed on you.

“But I’m just,” You huff and pout. “Put out, I guess. You did all that for me and I didn’t even get to see it.”

At the exact same time, you watch as Steve’s pupils dilate, blowing out in obvious lust, and something pressed against your back thickens up.

Steve, to his credit, only makes one strained noise which he immediately smothers with a cough. You feel his hips twitch beneath you and make a quick decision, confidence built on the sweltering heat of Steve’s face.

You push forward and up, then quickly turn, slotting your knees across either side of Steve’s thighs, perching atop them nicely.

You’re not outright in his lap—there’s room between the two of you for what you hope will happen.

It takes Steve another long moment to catch your drift.

“Wait, you want-?” He inhales sharply. You can see the twitch of his cock through his loose sweatpants. “To see?”

“To watch,” You clarify, smiling almost mischievously. “Yeah.”

Then just to check, “Is that okay?”

Steve’s breath shudders out of him but he’s nodding before the question is completely out of your mouth.

“H-Here?” He checks. You nod, resting your hands atop your thighs to show you don’t plan on using them. Steve’s hungry eyes scan you up and down, the tent in his pants pitching up in arousal.

“Just show me how you did it,” You murmur, words on the side of sultry. Your own excitement, that faint thrum of pleasure, has already started to pool low in your gut.

“Yeah, but I normally don’t have an audience for it,” Steve mumbles, his left-hand reaching for the drawstrings of his sweats.

They come undone with a simple tug. Steve stretches the elastic out a bit and then slips his hand in.

You know the moment his large hand settles around his cock from the flutter of his lashes, the soft groan that curls out his throat, rough and sweet all at once.

This… This is new. You usually don’t get such a focused look at Steve’s pleasure, at the little shifts in his expression, too wrapped up in your own pleasure to pay proper attention. Getting this much detail sends a delicious throb between your thighs. You hardly want to blink.

Steve’s hand moves slow to begin with, slow, gentle strokes to get himself properly warmed up.

After a moment, he draws his hand back and some part of you worries he’s too weirded out now. But he only brings it up, to his mouth, and you realise what he’s doing.

Quickly stealing his hand, Steve’s eyes widen as you let spit drop from your lips and pool in his palm. Another soft, jagged noise drags from his throat.

“Jesus Christ,” He murmurs, more to himself. “This is not what it’s like when it’s just me, this is, like, ten fucking times hotter.”

His hand sneaks back into his sweatpants but this time when he grips his cock, the reaction this time is immediate.

Steve moans, louder this time, his eyes crushing closed and his hand starts moving faster. With the help of your spit, it doesn’t take long before you can hear it, the slick sounds of him fucking his cock desperately.

His head tips back against the couch and a piece of hair flops over, into his eyes.

You reach out and brush it to the side and Steve’s eyes crease open at the same time a whine threads through his moans.

“Fuck,” He grunts. He sinks in teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes desperately roaming your face. “Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty.”

“That what you thought bout?”

You’re impressed with yourself for the cool, calm demeanour you’re portraying. Steve nods, the motion a little wild, his hand still making those lewd, wet noises.

“Uh huh,” His voice shakes a little. “Just, fuck, dunno, like, your face and-uh-what y-you’d sound like.”

Your eyes glitter with interest, ego raring at the devotion your boyfriend is spilling out.

“What I’d sound like?”

“Y-Yeah,” Steve stammers, his breathing heavy. “Like, doing this.”

Now that’s a picture; Steve jerking off to the thought of you, hot and bothered with your hand between your thighs. You give a breathy gasp without meaning to.

Steve hears it, groaning louder as he quickens his pace. You sort of want to reach forward and ruck up his shirt, so you can see the glorious clench of his stomach as he rolls his hips up into his warm hand.

“Can I see more?” You ask tentatively. “Please?”

This time, it’s more like a whimper that creeps out of Steve’s throat.

“Oh my god,” Steve mumbles through a stilted moan. “Jesus Christ. Yeah, yeah, of course.”

He swallows heavily, his free hand reaching down to push at his waistband. You help, lifting up to help tug the fabric out of the way.

Obstructions removed, your mouth salivates. Steve’s cock is pretty — and it looks that much more enticing when it’s worked up, pink and the tip of it leaking all over his hand.

Steve’s a fucking vision. His head still lolled back, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. His throat, dotted with moles, crawling with pinkness. His big, veiny hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it steadily.

You think about how much you’d like the lick the trail of hair on his tummy, down, down, down.

“You seem close,” You say and it earns you a reedy whimper in response. “Is it- does it normally happen this fast?”

“Are you kidding me?” Steve whispers back. His eyes are closed and after a moment, you realise he’s trying to keep himself from cumming too quickly, even as his hand doesn’t slow. “I—ngh— n-normally don’t have such good, ah, material. My imagination is— is not this good.”

You’re equal parts flattered and flustered, heat twinging in your gut.

“Can— can I?” Steve whimpers out suddenly.

The question nearly throws you. You almost say Can you what? when the meaning of it douses you in fire.

He’s asking permission.

Oh, that does something to you.

“Yeah, Stevie,” You say, voice lilting closer to a coo. “I wanna see it, please.”

Something shifts in his motions, changing gear as Steve’s hand suddenly starts moving in smaller, tighter strokes, just over the head of his cock. His head tucks forward, his eyes scrunched closed, and he’s whimpers out, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

It only takes a few seconds, the whine in Steve’s voice pitching higher and higher, until something gives.

His hips take over, something desperate and primal shoving them up, his thrusts rapid and frantic. His hand doesn’t stop moving, not even as his cock starts to leak out ropes of cum, shooting out enough to cover the back of his knuckles. It joins your spit to rub slick against his cock.

He keens pitifully. For one long minute, you listen to Steve’s breathy whines get softer and softer, watch his desperate thrusts abate til an overstimulated shiver wracks through his body. Then, and only then, does he collapse back, sinking into the couch.

He’s a bit ruined, truthfully.

And you’ve soaked through your panties.

“You’re welcome,” You croak, throat dry. His hair is back in his eyes and lean forward, tenderly brushing it out of the way. You leave your hand there, cupping the side of his face, and Steve leans into it, still panting.

“What?” He asks.

“You were thanking me,” You point out cheekily.

Steve’s face plunges back to that scarlet colour you’re beginning to adore most ardently. He turns his face further to hide away in the palm of your hands.

“Shut up,” He mumbles.

“So you don’t wanna do that again?” You tease.

Steve pulls back and eyes you. “Now, hang on, I didn’t say that…”

[dismalflo]

intervene

Poly!marauders x reader where james is oblivious to being flirted with ✩ 875 words

cw: reader is a lil jealous, fluff, established relationship

"She's obviously flirting with him, Rem," you murmur petulantly from your place on Remus’s lap. You've nestled yourself in a cozy armchair away from the chaos of the party, the two of you being the quieter pair in comparison to your more energetic boyfriends. Sirius had wandered off a while ago to do god knows what, and James—lovely, oblivious James—is standing across the room, completely unaware that the girl next to him is flirting with him. And, of course, you can’t help but glare at her from your spot.

"I know, dove," Remus replies with a lazy smile, pausing to squeeze your waist. His tone turns teasing as he adds, "I have eyes."

You whip your head around to look at him, incredulous. "You—you know? That's it? You're not going to do anything about it?" Your dramatics earn a soft smile from him, as he gently moves his hands to cup your face.

He plants a few quick kisses over your cheeks in an effort to placate you. And it works. You melt into Remus, happy to be doted on. Despite the noisy room full of people, in this moment with him, everything feels peaceful.

"I'm not doing anything about it because he keeps looking over at us and…" Remus’s mischievous glint catches your eye, that familiar spark he and the others get whenever they’re scheming. "Just imagine what Pads will do when he comes back and sees it."” 

Your jaw drops. "Oh, you're mean when you want to be." Despite the words, you cuddle in closer to Remus, and he beams down at you, his chest rumbling with quiet laughter.

"Mean? Me?" He chuckles softly, his breath warm against your temple as he continues to hold you close. "I’m just enjoying the show."

You glance back over at James and the girl. She’s still leaning in, giggling all but ignoring James’s distracted response. A strange mix of protective instinct and possessiveness bubbles up inside you. Just as you’re about to shuffle out of Remus’s lap and go retrieve James, you spot Sirius making his way over to him

You straighten up, suddenly feeling a little more tense. Remus’s arms tighten around you as he notices the shift in your demeanor.

“Here comes trouble,” he murmurs with a knowing smile, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

You can hardly hear the boys from where you’re sat but you do see the over the top fervent kiss Sirius gives James, the smitten smile on the curly haired boy afterwards, and the hardened features of Sirius’ face as he talks to the girl that was flirting a minute ago. Obviously she gets the hint, she walks off in the opposite direction and the two boys walk towards you and Remus.

Sirius arrives looking smug, bending down to give out kisses like he’s handing out gifts

"You’re welcome, poppet," he teases, and maybe your jealousy wasn’t as well hidden as you thought. Remus barks a laugh at your expense. James, still confused, looks from Sirius to you and back again, trying to process what just happened.

"Wait, what—did you—?" James stammers, blinking in surprise.

Sirius grins, savoring the moment. "Oh, I just, you know… intervened," he says with a dramatic flourish, as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

“She was flirting with you James.” Remus says bluntly, filling in the gaps of James’ knowledge. 

James looks at Remus with wide eyes, his face flushing a bit as the realization hits him. “What? She was? I—well, I wasn’t paying attention, was I?” He scratches the back of his head sheepishly, still trying to wrap his mind around the situation.

You snicker at James’ obliviousness, then glance at Sirius, whose expression is a perfect mix of satisfaction and mischief. “Well done, siri”

James’s expression brightens with recognition, and he grins playfully. "So you sicced the dog on me, you little minx," he teases. "If you were jealous, you could’ve just said so."

You flush embarrassed to be caught and sink further into Remus’ embrace trying to hide from the teasing.

"Oi, I’m not a bloody dog," Sirius interjects, wrapping an arm around James and pulling him closer. "And you seemed to enjoy that kiss, Prongs."

James laughs, leaning into Sirius’s embrace, still a little dazed but clearly amused. "Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly complaining about it," he says with a wink. "And sorry for making you terribly jealous by accident, lovely."

You huff, "It wasn’t terribly—"

"It was, dove," Remus cuts in, his voice teasing as he remembers the dramatic pout you put on earlier.

"My poor baby," James exclaims, leaning over to pepper kisses all over your face, then doing the same to Remus just because he can.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real heat behind it. You can feel the warmth of Remus’ arms around you, his steady presence grounding you as the teasing continues. James leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, and you can’t help but melt a little into him.

Sirius chuckles at the sight of you relaxing, finally breaking from your earlier pout. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he teases, his smirk turning into something softer when you give him a playful shove.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

let me know what you think of this! <3

[svelish]

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

Sweet dreams, my dear.

Warnings; manipulation, fucking a sleeping person?, dacryphilia, obsessive!billie, fingering, aftercare.

Little note !!: I'm so fucking sorry if this is weird..

Billie just couldn't help herself. Her girlfriend looked so sweet, so innocent, so unknowing. Your long lashes rested gently along your cheeks, not even threatening to flutter open. She smiled, stroking the brunette haired girl's cheek, moving down to her lips. They were just perfect. Plump, soft, with a little roundness. Billie wanted to take her fingers, make you suck on them feeling your tongue on her fingers. She hummed as she moved on top of you, holding your body up slightly as if not to touch you so suddenly. She moved down to your ear, nibbling before giving a small whisper.

"Are you awake, love?"

No response. Billie smiled, sliding off your small shorts. Sometimes, she had to wonder if you enjoyed showing off like that. If you knew how much those short bottoms you wore affected her, small shirts hugging your chest so tightly that Billie could make out your bra design.

Speaking of that, she lifted up your shirt, moving your arms up slowly to not wake you up so suddenly. She was pleased to see a translucent black lace bra, matching your translucent black laced panties.

Billie was already down to your undergarments. You insisted on sleeping like that all the time, it gave easier access for nights where yall were both in the mood. Poor you, always so flustered at the sight of Billie, trying your hardest to not act on your thoughts that ran rampant. You shifted around slightly and Billie took that as a sign to get started already.

She grazed her fingers against your clothed clit, testing the waters at first. No movement. She pulled down your underwear so slightly, trying not to moan at the pure sight of your pussy. To Billie, it was just so perfect, so tight..

Slightly pushing your legs apart, she noticed how wet you were already. Billie almost drooled at that sight.

Taking just one finger, she slowly traced your labia, teasing your hole and avoiding your clit entirely. She gave a small slap onto your clit with three fingers, loving the way your lashes fluttered. You didn't even wake up. You probably assumed it was nothing.

Taking advantage of you without your knowledge.. the thought was too enticing to stop. She continued toying with your clit, going from squeezing the bud to give strokes. She noticed your breath hitching slightly. You were just perfect, weren't you? As a reward, Billie fastened her pace, rapidly rubbing your clit. The sight of it was almost enough to make her cum.

She bit her lip when she watched how your legs trembled at the feeling of Billie's slender fingers on your clit, and she just had to wonder if you would cum just from that. She slid her other hand up your bra, squeezing your nipples. You leaned into the touch, eyebrows starting to furrow while you gave out a small moan. Your eyelashes fluttered even more, and Billie was sure you were soon to wake up.

She removed her hands off you before getting in a better position, with her thumb, she made sure to press down on your clit here and there. While she wanted to tease you.

Taking her fingers out, she was satisfied with the clear liquid produced. How kind of you. You were always such a kind girl. Taking a third finger, she swiftly pushed her fingers back in, relishing the wet noises coming from her lover. Your warm walls clenched around her fingers so tightly. Did you want even more? She angled your hips up slightly, now knuckle-deep inside of her. Humming, she began moving, curling her fingers and smiling at the way your legs trembled. Oh, you were just so perfect. You were close. Billie knew your body inside and out by now. The way you were huffing and puffing proved her thoughts even more.

Something was just so enticing about the way your eyelashes fluttered slightly, before opening your eyes up completely. The way you instantly gripped onto the covers, letting out the cutest little gasps.

"Y/n?" Billie innocently smiled, moving her fingers at a sloppier pace. It was clear you were close, walls tightening around her fingers.

"Taah— haahn..!" Poor you could barely even speak. Hell, you could barely even think, you'd just woken up after all. What you did know was that the pressure in your stomach was increasing, pressing against her, and—

You came with a scream, covering up your face. Billie removed her fingers and instead started to rub them over your clit. It hurt. The overstimulation hurt. You looked up at Billie, lips slightly parted, eyebrows furrowed as you felt tears well up in your eyes. You weren't sure exactly how to feel right now.

"M'love, did so well for me didn't she? I'm so sorry princess, I'm going to clean you up, mhm?

You turned your head away, just laying there with tears slowly falling down to your chin. It felt very overwhelming of course to the person who just woke up to an orgasm first thing they felt.

You feel a cold feeling between your legs, you flinch. Luckily it was just a wet towel.. Billie gently wiped her off, making sure to not hurt you or make you uncomfortable. You were then handed a glass of water, helping you to sit up.

Billie came back and joined you in bed, cuddled up next to you, dragging a blanket over the both of you. You felt warm. "It's okay princess. I'm here, it's okay. I love you, okay?"

Soft kisses on your shoulder and cheek calmed you down. Perhaps it would be okay.

[rabbitindisguise]

#there's a whole bunch of public health improvements that have been made beyond this though #like: what proportion of the relevant population lives in slums? #flu rates are going to look different in a population that lives in discrete houses in suburbia #vs a population that lives three families per shanty or flat #you're going to have much less lung damage among people who grow up with electric heating of some kind #vs people who grow up with oil burners or poorly ventilated wood stoves #and reliable access to heating makes a difference! #we're not even going into the fact that reliable access to clean water #which while less of an issue for influenza is nonetheless significant for other diseases #and let's not forget the fact that we have MULTIPLE diseases wiped out or reduced in mortality by vaccination #so yeah the flu vaccine saves lives #but people who got the measles and survived can have their immune system damaged by the infection #but now most people don't get measles bc of vaccines #and that might also have a knock on effect on how many flu deaths we have #modern medicine is not perfect and i have my share of trauma from its practitioners #but jfc there has been some nigh-on *miracles* that we've achieved #and i feel like not understanding the role that things like safe potable water and sufficient housing play in mitigating disease #leads to the destruction of the systems that made them possible. #like what's happening under Trump in America #vaccines are so important but they're not the sole picture #which isn't minimising the importance of vaccines #but if we rely on vaccines alone we get ... well. the minimising response to covid. #where the ongoing pandemic was declared 'over' bc there were vaccines (and it was more convenient to pretend that's all we needed) #public health #history #fiction #research #on writing (@jackironsides)

sorry for kidnapping your tags, I was just going to mention potable water too and this added even more stuff in addition to that

the only thing I would add to the list is fever reducers, gatorade, vitamins and fortified pasta, and the beautiful and plentiful invention known as The Fridge (can store fruits and vegetables with high levels of vitamins in the freezer ready to eat during the winter, the season where people are most vulnerable to viruses because of the cold's affect on the nose. This builds immunity and fights infections.)

oh, and handwashing!! in medical settings but especially in schools where viruses spread easily

Hi! This is kind of a weird question but how/why was influenza (and other diseases that we have vaccines for now) so deadly 100-200 years ago? Obviously vaccines help tremendously, and probably immunity over time, but are there other reasons that the flu was a much bigger deal a century ago? Sorry if this is oddly specific, but my current project is historical. Thank you!

This is a very interesting question and there are a couple of different ways of looking at it.

Let's start with influenza:

[Note: it's surprisingly difficult to get good worldwide flu data, so I'm going to use US numbers for the purposes of this post.]

I think the first thing to understand is that unlike many other infectious diseases, influenza is substantially different every year. That means that the immunity that you build in 2017 from either the flu or the flu shot won't necessarily help prevent you from getting the flu in 2023. By then it will be a different enough virus that your previous immunity won't be as helpful. Though it might make it a little milder. But keep reading, I'll give you some fun facts to share at parties:

We name flu (A) viruses based on two different proteins on the surface of the virus. The proteins are "H" and "N". There are 16 different "H" proteins, and 9 different "N" proteins that we currently know of. The combination of the two forms the "name" of a particular flu virus. Think H1N1, or H5N6, or any other combination. Each combination has their own attributes, which contributes to how infectious or deadly they are in any given year. And which ones circulate are different every year.

Just mathematically, that's a lot of substantially different flu viruses. Hundreds of them, in fact. And you have to build immunity to each one individually. You could, say, build immunity to H2N5, but that would do little to save you from next year's H4N3. And not only that, but within a single type there are many smaller variations. For example, say you got H5N3, but then it went and mutated. If you then got exposed again, you might have some immunity to new!H5N3, but it could also be just different enough that you still get sick.

Like I said above, different types of flu virus are deadlier or spread faster than others. H5N1 (a type of avian flu with a human mortality rate of 52%) is terrifyingly deadly but fortunately doesn't spread particularly well, while H1N1 (the star of both the 1918 and 2009 flu seasons) spreads rapidly and kills primarily young adults (weird, since flu usually kills babies and old people).

This is why in 2009 we did the whole "close the schools vaccinate the teens hide the president" routine. Because if it was *that* H1N1 we were all about to be screwed in ways we had never experienced before. Fortunately it wasn't, but thank goodness we did it. Also if you got vaccine #2 in 2009, you are also protected against the 1918 strain of H1N1. You're gonna be a hit at parties with that one.

Now, if you look at only deaths (not the best measure, but one with some emotional punch), within the last decade alone we have years where 12,000 people died of flu in the US (2011-2012) and years where that number is as high as 61,000 (2017-2018). These numbers are similar throughout recent history (relative to population), but then you get years like 1968 (where 100,000 people died in the US) and 1957 (where 116,000 died), and then sometimes you get these wild whopping years like 1918 where 675,000 died (equivalent to 1,750,000 people dying in today's US population). These fluctuations have happened since Hippocrates was around, and probably long before that, and there's really nothing to suggest it's getting any milder in any statistically significant way.

Now, outside of these natural fluctuations, we do have some ways of driving down these numbers. We do have a vaccine. It is different every year, based on our prediction of what the most likely or dangerous types of flus will be this year. Fortunately, you do get to keep this immunity for some time, so you can look at the flu vaccine as a personal collection of different flu viruses you have immunity to- you can collect 2-3 different ones every year in one shot and you didn't even have to catch them!! Yay! Unfortunately, since we never reach herd immunity with the flu vaccine, and we can't perfectly predict and incorporate all the strains that will circulate in a given year, while you do get some protection, it's not ever perfect. But it *is* still worth it.

We also have other feats of modern medicine as backup to the flu vaccine. We have oxygen, antiviral drugs like tamiflu, immune modulating drugs, and technology like ventilators to help keep people alive in ways we would not be able to in previous generations. So that's also an advantage. Unfortunately, these don't always work either, and we are still at the whim of those yearly fluctuations in influenza virus deaths.

And really, if you ask any epidemiologist, covid is just a little trial run for the next Big One. Which is both extremely likely to be a flu virus and which we're statistically overdue for.

TL;DR: The flu isn't getting milder so much as it varies wildly in severity every year. The next major flu pandemic is probably going to be in our lifetimes, so start collecting your flu immunity now if you haven't yet. New collections drop every August and are available until April. Get em' while they're hot. This year's included a 2009-like strain of H1N1 and a delightful H3N2 number from Hong Kong.

As for All the Other Vaccine Preventable Illnesses:

*ahem*

Yes, it's vaccines. It's obviously vaccines. Its basically only vaccines. Anyone who has ever told you it's not vaccines is lying. No other major discovery of modern medicine has ever saved as many lives, prevented as many disabilities, and created as many opportunities for a life well lived as vaccines have. No antiviral drug, no antibiotic, no ventilator can even hold a candle to vaccines. The answer is f*cking vaccines*.

I hope I have made myself clear.

Enjoy this table:

*Yes I do have a masters degree in public health and am a registered nurse that interacts with the public regularly, how did you know?

-Ross @macgyvermedical

[peter-pumpkin-eater]

Bite

Caleb x gn!reader

summary: Sitting on Caleb's lap while sleepy might be a bad idea (you'll do it again)

warnings: slightly suggestive (nothing mentioned but hinted at), yearning, one (1) gendered pet name (pretty girl), biting

word count: 607

You were curled up in Caleb’s lap. Something was playing on the tv but you weren’t paying attention. Your half lidded eyes weighed heavy with exhaustion. It also didn’t help that Caleb’s fingers were running absentmindedly on the outside of your thigh that was tucked against him. Caleb dropped his head in the crook of your neck and stifled a yawn against your skin - the puff of hot air making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

You melted further into him, his warmth seeping into your bones. He dragged his lips up your neck before resting behind your ear and taking a deep breath. Your scent flooded his senses and he wasn’t thinking, he was too tired and the feeling of you pressed against him was overwhelming. His lips ghosted back down your neck and the sleepy tilt of your head giving him a little more access was his breaking point.

He opened his mouth slowly and the feel of his teeth grazing across your skin set you on fire. You were suddenly wide awake. Before you could fully process what was happening you felt his teeth sink into your neck. It wasn't a hard bite, but you know that it’ll probably leave a mark.

“Ah~” You gasped before throwing a hand over your mouth. The sound you made not only startled you but also Caleb. He froze against you before you could feel the curl of his lips against your skin.. 

“You like that?” Caleb’s gravely voice chuckled against the shell of your ear. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, still having a hand over your mouth. Caleb wrapped his arms tighter around your torso, the hand that was on your thigh snaking under it pulling you closer against him. 

Your heart was beating so fast you were sure Caleb could feel it through your back. His lips moved to your shoulder and you shivered. 

“Talk to me, baby.” He purred against your skin before sinking his teeth in again, gentler this time. You think you could feel his tongue run over the bite mark.

“Mm!” you moaned against your hand before dropping them to claw at Caleb's arm around you. You needed to get off his lap before you embarrassed yourself further. Another chuckle puffed against your ear. 

“Does my pretty girl like being bitten? Naughty.” He teased. 

“Caleb. Need t-” you gasped using both hands to try and peel his arm from you.

“Need to, what?” He spoke as he ran his nose against your pulse point. He was taking this too far. He should stop. He doesn't want to scare you away, but the way you're shaking on top of him and those oh so pretty sounds falling past your lips were a drug he will never stop trying to get now that he’s had a taste. 

You wiggle against him trying to break free. “I- I need to get up” You stuttered out.

Caleb had to let you go now. It was getting harder for him to control himself and if anything, this was a perfect test to see how far he could push you. He loosens his arms around you and you bolt from his lap and up the stairs. He sighs heavily with a smile on his lips and leans into the couch. He adjusted his sweats and was sure you had felt his own reaction to this against you. 

Upstairs you had locked yourself in the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face. You looked up at yourself in the mirror and groaned at the very obvious bite mark on your neck. You were fucked.

[nosyrobin]

Reposting this as a separate part and not as a big ass reblog cause that was so lazy of me…

Yandere!Batfamily x TeddyBear!Reader

Part 1 | part 2

Damian who's a little sneaky bastard. He plays the"innocent" child card. Making you dot on him.

Damian who forces you to take a small form of your bear shape. Mostly so he can hold you like the true teddybear you are. Forcing you to stay in his room as he sleep.

Damian who actually gets terribly upset when you actually start to ignore and find ways to avoid him.

Damian who is close to making his father force you to get into mind control so you can listen to him

Tim who always uses you as a pillow. You could try to get away from the coffeeholic man. But he could only smile with you having a muzzle on, roaring to be free. You're his sweet experiment.

Tim who gives you coffee when you let your guard down. Don't worry about the funny taste, it's just to make you obey and stay with him longer when he studies.

Tim who smiles when you act so loopy and hug him, growling softly in your bear form and nuzzle into his neck in your human one. You're just so sweet...

Tim who sometimes designs chips, he made one that completely will force you to be the mind slave you were originally to be. Maybe even keep your spirit in that teddy bear form of yours.

Jason who tries to soothe your pains, but he's only causing more when he stares down at you backing away from him.

Jason who still vents to you about his much he's in a frenzy between liking Bruce and not liking him. It gets tiring.

Jason who declaws you, you could try and regenerate your body. He'll only do it over and over again for the times you clawed at his face.

Jason who wants to break you mentally, who wants you to depend on him. So he can take you away from this place.

Dick who gets sickly sweet with you. You can't tell if he's actually being nice or not.

Dick who coos at you, he hugs you tightly In your human form, making sure you have no space to transform. Learning you need an amount of space to transform between forms

Dick who babies you too much, it's sickening how he could make you seem so childish when you're years older than any of the men in this place.

Dick who has Barbara always give him secret photos off of the cameras in the house of you. Aren't you his cute teddy bear.

Bruce who only watches, not even caring if you actually trusted him or not. You're only here to please his sons.

Bruce who has a perimeter around the house that the chip Tim made can alarm him or any of the boys that you tried to escape. Oh well, guess it's another dose of honey for you.

Bruce who has cameras watching you 24/7. Don't worry, he doesn't watch you that much. Unlike Tim.

Bruce who agrees to Damian's plan to put an another chip. This time in your brain.

You who’s starting to snap…

You who's is starting to isolate yourself from the bat and birds. They notice, but you are calculating how to escape.

You who finally found your source to escape this hellish mansion

You who fall to the ground when trying to escape late at night. You fall with a hard thud as the chip under your skin, your fur, it shocks your your entire body. You couldn't help but see feet come towards you. You try to roar only for a syringe enter your neck. Dark figures surround your body as you start to black out.

You who are their perfect teddy bear.....

[keferon]

OUGH WAIT DISREGARD MY LAST WRITING POST. I HAD A BIG BRAIN MOMENT. THE GANG (Damus, The Twins, Skywarp + Thundercracker, Soundwave, Bluestreak, Trailbreaker, Skids, Windcharger) are all foster kids in a group home, we know this. Who runs the group home? ORION PAX.

POV Orion desperately looking for his kids after the Tsunami separated him from them, hoping he'll find them alive, dreading finding out one of them didn't make it. Weeks pass, he's losing hope, but refuses to stop searching.

Finally, he finds them in the care of Shockwave, this Big Old Pancake Man.

Orion is both utterly relieved by the fact his kids are alive and taken care of and utterly blindsided because OH NO THE MER THAT KEPT MY KIDS ALIVE IS H O T

Shockwave isn't planning on leaving his guppies anytime soon. Orion would have to be dead to leave his kids behind. The Family Comedy now gets a hint of romance as Shocks and Pax work together to keep their 10 boys alive. (At some point Starscream reunites with Skywarp and Thundercracker, dragging behind him the big sweetheart beluga mer that is Skyfire. Kid count goes to 12. We have passed Apocalyptic Ponyo and gone full send to Little Mermaid Brady Bunch)

…………..DAMMIT YOU ARE VERY CONVINCING

Okay okay maybe he isn’t exactly runs it but like?? Works there perhaps? As a teacher or librarian or idfk it doesn’t matter. What matters is that kids love him and also he was at home when the whole tsunami happened so he doesn’t know if they’re dead or alive. There’s literally no way to contact them and realistically? A big group of kids isn’t perfect for surviving the apocalypse.

ESPECIALLY because none of them really know how to swim. Except maybe Skids and Soundwave

Trying to think of an interesting way for them to meet now……..

[nosyrobin]

Damian who’s a little sneaky bastard. He plays the “innocent” child card. Making you dot on him.

Damian who forces you to take a small form of your bear shape. Mostly so he can hold you like the true teddybear you are. Forcing you to stay in his room as he sleep.

Damian who actually gets terribly upset when you actually start to ignore and find ways to avoid him.

Damian who is close to making his father force you to get into mind control so you can listen to him

Tim who always uses you as a pillow. You could try to get away from the coffeeholic man. But he could only smile with you having a muzzle on, roaring to be free. You’re his sweet experiment.

Tim who gives you coffee when you let your guard down. Don’t worry about the funny taste, it’s just to make you obey and stay with him longer when he studies.

Tim who smiles when you act so loopy and hug him, growling softly in your bear form and nuzzle into his neck in your human one. You’re just so sweet….

Tim who sometimes designs chips, he made one that completely will force you to be the mind slave you were originally to be. Maybe even keep your spirit in that teddy bear form of yours.

Jason who tries to soothe your pains, but he’s only causing more when he stares down at you backing away from him.

Jason who still vents to you about his much he’s in a frenzy between liking Bruce and not liking him. It gets tiring.

Jason who declaws you, you could try and regenerate your body. He’ll only do it over and over again for the times you clawed at his face.

Jason who wants to break you mentally, who wants you to depend on him. So he can take you away from this place.

Dick who gets sickly sweet with you. You can’t tell if he’s actually being nice or not.

Dick who coos at you, he hugs you tightly In your human form, making sure you have no space to transform. Learning you need an amount of space to transform between forms

Dick who babies you too much, it’s sickening how he could make you seem so childish when you’re years older than any of the men in this place.

Dick who has Barbara always give him secret photos off of the cameras in the house of you. Aren’t you his cute teddy bear.

Bruce who only watches, not even caring if you actually trusted him or not. You’re only here to please his sons.

Bruce who has a perimeter around the house that the chip Tim made can alarm him or any of the boys that you tried to escape. Oh well, guess it’s another dose of honey for you.

Bruce who has cameras watching you 24/7. Don’t worry, he doesn’t watch you that much. Unlike Tim.

Bruce who agrees to Damian’s plan to put an another chip. This time in your brain.

You who’s starting to snap….

You who’s is starting to isolate yourself from the bat and birds. They notice, but you are calculating how to escape.

You who finally found your source to escape this hellish mansion

You who fall to the ground when trying to escape late at night. You fall with a hard thud as the chip under your skin, your fur, it shocks your your entire body. You couldn’t help but see feet come towards you. You try to roar only for a syringe enter your neck. Dark figures surround your body as you start to black out.

You who are their perfect teddy bear…..

Teddy bear!reader who’s trapped in the Wayne household.

Teddy bear!reader who’s practically some weird cuddly entity that resembles a teddy bear with a human form

Teddy bear!reader who has to endure all the venting, ranting the batfamily has to tell them. They can’t help but frown as it starts to get draining.

Teddy bear!reader who’s always hugged when seen. They can’t get out of the tight hold the boys get them into to. Even Bruce doesn’t let them go easily.

Teddy bear!reader who has a chip in them, shocking them when they don’t keep up the “happy bear” facade. You’re supposed to be the cute teddy they love.

Teddy bear!reader forced to be into human form so one of the boys can take them out and spoil them. But it’s only to show others that you belong to them if you somehow escape them.

Teddy bear!reader who’s starting to crack. The cuddly teddy is starting to be a grizzly bear.

————-

But that only stops when you get shocking pain in your neck. You roar, clawing at your own skin and fur. You transform between bear and human. Dick frowns as he hold the controller down. Damian could only hold a scowl watching his beloved animal act out.

Jason sits watching you beg for the pain to stop, Tim could only smile. Bruce has a hand on Dick’s shoulder. He squeezed it seeing you about to pass you. Dick stops the shocking pain.

You whimper, holding your arms. You feel your claws poke your own bruised body. Bruce kneels down, lifting your head as you flinch at his touch. “Our poor teddy….” He says lowly, he shows pity more than guilt.

It makes you sick as you try and roar at him, growl. Anything. But in the corner of your eye, you see Dick ready to press the button. You immediately stopped trying to fight. “You seem cranky..” Bruce says, he then helps you sit up as Damian moves by his father.

“Father, maybe it’s time for them to eat some honey?” He questions.

Honey…it’s not honey. It’s a drug to make you loopy. To make you obey them. To make you happy and do anything they wish to do to you.

To make you their perfect little teddy bear.

A/N: UH OH??? DID I EAT? OR DID I EAT🗣️‼️