#so don't click for a quick read

[rpfisfine]

I have no clue who these little creatures are but cozy new theme :) 🫀🫀🫀!!!

THANK U SM!!!!! <33333 kissa you kissa you kissa you

[anarchopuppy]

Here's uBlock Origin's official guide to bypassing youtube's anti-adblock popups, updated weekly. Please share widely. Don't reward google for their predatory anti-consumer bullshit

To summarize: 1. Get uBlock Origin and make sure it's updated to the latest version. 2. Click on the gear icon to get to the dashboard, go to "Filter lists", and make sure that "uBlock filters - Quick fixes" is up to date

Repeat those steps any time you get another popup (google and uBlock are having an arms race right now so it might stop working at any moment), and if you have any more problems, read the reddit thread for troubleshooting advice

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: KISS & MAKE UP

✩ ‧ ˚. streamer!au: after the breakup, you two decide to make up in the traditional way—by having sex! NSFW

contents: fem!reader. oral (f. recieving), p –> v, teasing, praise, hair pulling (m. recieving), missionary, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, use of pet names (too many to list here). not proofread bc you couldn't pay me to read all this again. 2.5k words. read this fic beforehand for better understanding of the context, but you don't have to.

author's note: tumblr hates me and that's why the banner quality's trash. if u wanna see the details, click here. anyways the streamer!gojo smut has finally arrived, tagging @satorena @screampied @cultrise, enjoyyy ;)

“did you tell them we’re back together?”

satoru nods in response to your question, plopping down on the couch next to you. he's spent the last hour chatting with his stream, and eventually he broke the news that you and him were back together after the breakup.

“yeah, i did,” he confirms, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. your hands automatically move to his hair and you thread your fingers through the soft white strands, pausing after a couple seconds to give him a quick kiss on the forehead.

a week ago, you and satoru had an admittedly messy breakup—not messy in the sense that it got toxic or dramatic, but messy in the way that it could’ve easily been avoided. it wasn’t that big of a deal, but thankfully, you and satoru resolved your misunderstanding within a relatively short time.

since then, things have been a little different—satoru’s been taking a break from streaming, which gave him move time to spend with you and away from his thousands of fans. it was his suggestion, and not surprisingly, it worked. but all good things have to come to an end, and your “honeymoon” away from satoru’s stream seems to be coming to a close.

“something smells good,” satoru notes, lifting his head and glancing at the kitchen. “wait, is that ramen?” your boyfriend gasps, eyes rounding as he looks at you hopefully. 

“yeah, you said you were craving it, so i made some,” you reply with a smile, untangling yourself from his arms and walking over to the kitchen. satoru blows you a flurry of kisses that you see out of the corner of your eye as you check on the ramen, which looks pretty much done.

“y’know, i still haven’t forgiven you for the shit you pulled last week,” you say dryly, turning off the stove and draining the water from the ramen into your sink. the steam rises up as the boiling water slips down into the drain, clouding your face for a moment before it dissipates into thin air. 

“...does that mean i don’t get to eat that ramen?” satoru asks tentatively, a nervous smile on his lips as you empty a packet of flavored powder into the ramen. you shoot him a look and raise an eyebrow, turning back to the stove to hide your smile.

“maybe, maybe not,” you reply coyly, not wanting to give in too soon.

“boo, you whore.”

you roll your eyes and divide the ramen into two bowls, one for you and one for your boyfriend. “you’re lucky i’m too nice to let you starve, regina,” you say pointedly, walking back over to the couch and handing one of the bowls to him, which satoru takes with both hands—a habit from his childhood that never went away. “otherwise you’d be��”

satoru cuts you off by poking your lips with his chopsticks, steaming hot ramen wrapped around them. you reluctantly open your mouth and let him feed you, smiling when he seals the bite with a kiss. 

“best girlfriend ever,” satoru proclaims when he pulls away, a lazy smile playing on his lips. his soft blue eyes study your own, observing your unusually guarded expression and frowning.

“how many times do i gotta apologize for my bullshit before you stop making that face at me?” he grumbles, twirling his chopsticks in his bowl and taking a bite of the ramen. it’s cute how satoru’s face lights up at the taste, and it’s even cuter how his eyes round at you in awe when he takes another bite. “i didn’t know instant ramen could be this good,” he muses, licking any lingering flavor off of his lips.

“very funny, satoru,” you laugh, swirling your chopsticks around the broth and watching the rest of the steam rise from your bowl. “and to answer your question, i don’t really know.”

satoru tilts his head and takes a sip of his water, ice clinking against the side of the glass. when you respond to his question, he pauses and tilts his head in confusion. “...wait, what does that mean?”

you think for a second, choosing your words carefully. “i’m not sure how long it’ll take until we’re back to… normal,” you say cautiously. in all honesty, you weren’t that pissed off at him—you never were. but the fact that satoru was so ready to throw your relationship away over something as small as that was upsetting, to say the least. and you weren’t entirely sure it wouldn’t happen again.

satoru looks at you thoughtfully, more serious than you’ve seen him in a while. you can almost see the gears turning in his head before he replies. “any idea how i can make it up to you?”

you shrug, swallowing another bite of ramen before you meet his eyes. “you tell me. actions speak louder than words.”

your boyfriend drops his chopsticks, letting them clatter around in the bowl before he stands up. he extends a hand to you, a determined glint in his eye. “then lemme prove it to you.”

��satoru, you can’t bribe me with sex.”

“that’s not all i’ll be doing, sweetheart. trust me.”

and that’s how you ended up in his room, hands tangled in satoru’s soft white hair as he eats you out. his tongue laps at your cunt with quick, kitten-like strokes, and he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh. “feels s’good, satoru,” you breathe, involuntarily tugging on his hair and dragging out a groan from his lips. “sorry—”

“don’t apologize,” satoru mumbles in reply, nose brushing against your dripping thighs as his tongue slips past your folds and goes in deeper. he looks up and locks eyes with you, unable to resist smiling at the way your legs tremble around him. “aw, you’re so fuckin’ cute,” he murmurs, flicking his tongue in and out of your cunt with a grin. “and i’m the one who should be—fuck, you’re gorgeous—apologizing.”

this isn’t the first time satoru’s eaten you out, but it feels like it every single time—somehow, his tongue has a talent of rendering you unable to focus on anything else but him. you grind your hips against satoru’s face, eyes squinted shut as your boyfriend flattens his tongue before lapping your slick up with cloudy eyes. “shit, i don’t know what i’d be without you,” he murmurs, voice low and steady—and something about his tone makes you certain he’s being completely honest with you.

“you’re so—fuck, satoru, i’m gonna cum,” you breathe, back automatically arching when satoru’s tongue reaches that spot inside you. he laughs, and the vibration of the soft sound against your puffy, sensitive cunt almost makes your legs give out—but thankfully, satoru’s hands are secured around your thighs, holding you in place. “‘toru, i can’t—”

“yeah, y’can, just relax that pretty pussy for me,” he cooes, licking up the slick dripping down his chin. “c’mon, you’re doing so good f’me, keep going, baby.” and just like that, his tongue slips out of your cunt and he lets you cum—the sheer force of your orgasm hits you like a truck, and your hips roll against satoru’s face in a choppy rhythm as you desperately ride it out, hands gripping and accidentally yanking his hair.

you stutter out his name a couple more times, unable to focus on anything but the feeling of satoru’s mouth on your sensitive, gushing pussy. your boyfriend praises you the whole way, gently murmuring soft words about how sweet you are for letting him taste you, even while your relationship was rocky. when your voice steadies enough for satoru to make out what you’re begging him to do, he’s not at all surprised to hear you plea for him to fuck you—so stands up and tugs you down onto his bed, hand intertwined with yours as he pulls the sheets over your bodies. 

you squeeze satoru’s hand and lean in to kiss him, chest still heaving from your earlier orgasm. naturally, you miss his lips and end up kissing the side of his face, which is flushed bright red from the way his body reacts to the taste of your pussy. “don’t ever leave me like that again,” you whisper, tears pricking at your eyes for some reason—maybe it’s the lovesick way satoru looks at you, or maybe it’s the way he’s holding onto you like there’s no place he’d rather be.

“i won’t,” satoru promises, pressing an affectionate kiss to your forehead and pulling your head into his chest. his lips touch the top of your head as he murmurs, “and if i do, shoot me.” it sounds like a joke, but you both know that he’s dead serious.

“good thing i won’t have to do that,” you say with a soft giggle. your smile is heart-achingly familiar to satoru, and it feels like home—and that’s the realization that has him stripping off what little clothing the two of you still have on before he climbs on top of you. 

satoru touches the tip of his dick to your pussy, waiting for your nod to allow him to go in all the way. after a second, you dip your chin and trail your fingers down satoru’s jaw, grabbing his chin and pulling him down into another kiss. his lips linger for a couple seconds, still-minty breath tickling your face, before he pulls away. satoru slowly lowers his hips and nudges his dick inside of your desperate cunt, hands resting on either side of you.

even though it’s only been a little over a week since you last had sex with satoru, it feels like it’s been forever—your boyfriend curses when he feels how tight you are, mumbling something about missing you “so fucking much” as he goes in deeper and deeper. it hurts a little at first, but you quickly get used to the feeling of him inside of you. 

“fuckin’ hell, i’m never gonna get tired of this,” satoru breathes, dipping his head and kissing your collarbone. a single drop of sweat drips down the side of his face as he watches you squirm, eyes soft and endearing as you do so. he starts rolling his hips back and forth against you to loosen you up a little, dragging out soft moans from you as he does so. 

“yeah, you better not,” you mutter, tilting your head back and drawing in a long breath of air. you can’t remember the last time you felt this good—maybe it was the last time satoru fucked you. “satoru, y’re going so slow—”

your boyfriend cuts you off with a particularly harsh thrust, making your body jolt against his mattress. satoru lifts his head and looks you in the eye, a breathy laugh slipping out of him when he sees the pout on your lips. “the fuck you mean, i’m going slow? you want me to tear you apart? silly girl,” he tuts, back to his usual cocky self. he shakes his head and goes deep enough in you to force you to arch your back, starting to grin at the way you paw at his chest. “always so selfish, aren’t you?” he cooes, dipping his head and giving you a sloppy kiss on the forehead. “but you’re always—so—fuckin’—sweet,” satoru whispers, punctuating each word with a thrust hard enough for you to moan out his name more times than you can count.

“you’re the selfish one,” you mumble, lips trembling enough to muffle your voice. satoru huffs out a sigh and kisses your mouth, teeth gently brushing against your bottom lip. “you broke up with me for no reason,” you continue, tears pricking at your eyes again. “you think i’m gonna forgive you this fast?” 

satoru shakes his head again and caresses the side of your face. “will you?” he asks, slowing his pace enough for you to notice. you mutter something about him edging you on purpose, to which satoru shushes you and repeats his question.

“maybe.”

“you gotta stop giving me maybe’s, baby—y’re drivin’ me crazy here.”

in the past week, satoru’s done so much for you, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. on the day after your breakup, he picked you up from your house and took you for a picnic entirely curated by him. on the second day, he made you breakfast, lunch and dinner—it wasn’t the best food you ever had, but it was definitely the most memorable (in more ways than one). on the third day, he took you out to your favorite amusement park and did everything he could to make you smile—by then, you had pretty much forgiven him, and the giant teddy bear he dropped in your bedroom only made you love him more. the rest of the days were filled with longing glances and little gifts left around your house, which only helped him earn more and more of you back.

so, you figure that satoru deserves what comes next.

“okay,” you whisper. 

satoru’s eyes widen and he hesitates before he tentatively asks, “does this mean—”

you don’t let him finish his question, instead grabbing his face and tugging him down into a full kiss. he lets out a soft hm? in surprise, but kisses you back more than gratefully. “c’mon, make me cum,” you breathe when he finally pulls away. satoru nods dazedly and mouths “i love you” before he goes back in you, pace faster than before.

one of his hands snakes down to your waist, holding it in pace while the other caresses your face. you gaze up at him with a soft smile, eyes fluttering open and closed every time his dick hits your sweet spot—which is more times than your body can handle, but you welcome the feeling of him deep inside of you. after barely a couple thrusts, a coil forms in your stomach, growing tighter and tighter with each movement of satoru’s hips. 

satoru laughs, chest heaving as he grins down at you cheekily. “i knew you’d forgive me,” he murmurs, pinching your cheek affectionately. “m’ so sorry—”

“shut up and fuck me,” you interrupt, tongue starting to loll out of your mouth as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to cumming all over satoru’s dick. 

“as you wish, princess.”

satoru’s breathing slowly changes, becoming more choppy and uneven the closer you watch him get to his high—it’s so, so close for both of you, and when it comes, it takes over both of your minds like a drug. satoru curses and groans out your name, thrusts growing sloppy as he desperately rides out his orgasm. cum shoots out from his dick and coats the inside of your cunt white, dripping out once you physically can’t take any more.

you run your hands all over satoru’s body, clawing and gripping at every inch of skin you can latch onto—satoru’s always been your anchor, and you hope that he always will be. one of his hands leaves the side of your face and tangles with your fingers, holding it down against the mattress as he promises to never screw you over like that again, and you’re only too welcoming to him and his words as you squirt all over his dick. “fuck, satoru—”

he lifts his eyes and meets your own, and unlike you, his vision is clearer than ever. “shoot me if i ever leave you again, baby. i’m serious.”

you raise a shaky hand and touch the side of his face, eyes fluttering shut as you murmur, “i know i won’t have to.”

[bi-writes]

cw: protective!ghost, allusions to civilian!reader being (physically) assaulted at work (18+)

"l-lieutenant?"

ghost is nearly startled by the little voice that practically squeaks behind him. he's been huddled in his office for too long, driving himself mad with paperwork and sergeants too stupid for their own good. he blinks, turning around, and he blinks when he sees you there in the doorway, hands shaking as you try and collect yourself.

when he looks carefully under the fluorescent lights, he can see there are tears in your eyes. it's then that he notices how you look, really look. there's a bruise blossoming on your jaw, the skin swelling a bit where there's a cut on your lip. your shirt is askew, and you're panting and sweating, like you've been running. he's never seen you this way. fuck, he barely sees you at all, except when he goes out during drills, and he's only ever spoken to you once or twice, just to receive some papers or to excuse himself as he tries to get around you in a crowded hallway. you are always quiet, always shy, smiling at him if you are near and trying to keep out of the way.

he doesn't know why it enrages him to see you in this state, but it does.

"the fuck happened t'ya?" he rasps, and he realizes it comes out harsher than he means. he isn't used to being nice.

the slamming of a door against a wall keeps you from answering. just like that, you're moving, about to scramble away, run, when ghost reaches out and grabs your wrist. he tugs you towards him, just quick enough that whoever is coming for you skids into the doorway.

it's a sergeant he recognizes. cocky, full of shit, who never hits his target. he's big, but not as big as ghost. he pauses when he realizes where you are and who you're with, skidding backwards as he tries to contain his anger.

"wot the fuck is goin' on?" ghost snaps, and you sputter, not able to make out your words properly.

"'m sorry, lieutenant," the sergeant huffs. "i'll take care of this."

when he lunges for you, ghost shoves you behind him, tilting his head to the side as he stares down at the little shit.

"did i fuckin' tell ya t'move?" ghost growls. "this how ya answer ta y'r superior, you fuckin' knob?"

"no," he spits back, but his eyes flash when ghost puts a gloved hand against his chest and pushes him back far enough to put appropriate distance between them.

"did y'hit this civilian?" ghost asks, a humorless laugh leaving him. when the sergeant doesn't respond, ghost turns finally, looking at you, and he clicks his tongue to get your eyes on him. "did he put his hands on ya?"

you tremble a little, moving the back of your hand over your eyes before nodding. you don't really register what happens next. you see blood on the tips of your kitten heels one moment, and you cover your eyes the next.

in the bathroom later that evening, ghost is careful as he dabs at your lip gently with a cool cloth. he has taken the gloves off (they were soaked with blood), and you try not to shiver as he holds your face with one big hand and cleans you up with the other. you can see the shadow of tattoos peeking out from under his sleeve.

"why'd y'come t'me?" he asks after a few minutes. you blink up at him, swallowing hard, and he stands back a little to get a better look at you.

"i've read your file," you whisper, looking down, a bit ashamed. "i just thought...you'd understand."

or maybe you wondered what he would do if he found out.

he hums a little, and you miss the feeling of his touch as soon as he lets go of you, washing his hands at the sink. you fixate on his stature, his size. the thick of his thighs, how the holsters there bulge and stretch to try and hold onto him.

just as he starts to leave, you stand from your seat, making your way to him. he hears you, stopping, and you hold onto his bicep gently as you get on your toes to kiss his cheek. he flinches a little, but he relaxes finally, leaning in for you to kiss him there again. when your eyes meet again, you think you see something there.

he kicks the door closed with his boot, trapping you in the room with him. you smile when the lock clicks.

[bamsara]

A quick tutorial on how to Download Fics from AO3

After making this poll about the panic that comes when Archive of Our Own goes down, there seems to be a chunk of folks who didn't know they could download fics for offline use, or don't know how to go about it. Here's a quick tutorial for that.

You do not need an AO3 account (unless the fic you are trying to download is restricted to AO3 users only) you only need an internet connection and a device to download to, whether it's PC or a phone.

These instructions work for both desktop and mobile. At the top of the fic, where the chapter index is, there will be the download option on the right side, and an 'Entire Work' button the left side.

For One-Shots: Go ahead and click the download button.

For multiple chapter fics: In order to have the fic download all together instead of downloading each chapter individually, make sure you select the 'Entire Work' button. Like the names says, it displays the entire work on the webpage, and will download the entire fic with all it's chapters in the correct order when you go to download.

Click the download button. You've got a couple of options:

AZW3 - Amazon-developed ebook format that is designed for Kindles and Amazon's systems. Good if you want to read off of a kindle.

EPUB - Standard file format for Ebooks and is basically used as the default for pretty much most ebook readers. This is what I prefer to use when downloading to my phone.

MOBI - An older version of the AZW3. Older but standard as well.

PDF - Downloads the fics as a PDF. Can be read anywhere you can open a PDF.

HTML - Downloads an offline version of the exact webpage you are looking at. Fine if you want to keep the 'look' of AO3 but you can't change the text size or reading style like you can with ebook formats.

Not sure which one to download? Use EPUB since it's standard and readable by pretty much everything, retains images too.

You now have your fic downloaded to your device and can read it on whatever reading app you have. YAY!

Do keep in mind that these are offline files that do not synch with Archive. So if you download an ongoing fic that updates or is edited since you last downloaded, you will need to download it again to have the updated version.

Happy Reading!

[winnie1emon]

✧.* what happens if you see your ex-boyfriend, theodore nott, at a halloween party?

ex!bf!theo x fawn!reader (fem pov)

word count: approx. 2.7k

cw: MDNI!!, smut, dom!theo, innocent!reader, piv, unprotected sex, creampie, tit sucking/fondling, oral sex (f receiving), praise, rekindling

a/n: last minute, sleep deprived, and not proof-read halloween treat ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

You stirred awake as you heard your dorm room's door click shut and saw a glimpse of your roommate's hair disappearing from view. She was undoubtedly headed to the infamous yearly Halloween party in the Room of Requirement.

You had previously declined her offer to go with her, deciding to spend most of your time moping over your ex-boyfriend, Theodore Nott.

Two weeks prior you had your heart broken when you called things off with him. Your peers had convinced you it was the right thing to do at the time as he never paid you any attention, seemingly avoiding you constantly for no good reason, sometimes days at a time. Although you initiated the separation, you wasted no time in mourning the early stages of your relationship; the moments where you would be alone with him, talking to him, kissing him, and the times you guys almost said you loved each other.

You fluffed up your pillows, preparing yourself to lay down and think of Theodore until you slept like you had been doing for the past week when you heard more shuffling outside your dorm room. It seemed like everybody would be attending the Halloween party.

Dreading the idea that he'd probably be wooing someone new, you sat back up and groaned, forcing yourself up onto your feet and into your bathroom. You stared back at yourself in the mirror; puffy-eyed and your nose tinged pink. You felt the sudden urge to go, feeling your time would be better spent seeing a few familiar faces and dancing out your blues.

You had a small problem though.

You vaguely recalled seeing the bustling students leave wearing costumes, but given the spontaneous nature of your new feelings, you had nothing to wear. You tentatively looked around your bathroom and then at your full dorm, hoping for a costume to spawn from thin air. Biting your lip, your eyes landed on a headband of fuzzy deer ears and short plush antlers.

Theodore had bought you the headband in Hogsmeade during your first date as a way to poke fun at your meek demeanor. You contemplated wearing the headband, allowing yourself a quick Halloween if you simply did the makeup. Against your better judgment, you put it on before propping yourself in front of your vanity to do the deer makeup you so saw often on your Pinterest feed. Luckily, your closet consisted of many warm browns with white accents, granting you the ability to not have to freak over finding matching clothing.

You took a final breath before walking out the door, headed towards an evening of branching out.

--------------------------------------------------------

Theodore's gaze lingered around the room, his face stoic, as he seemingly tried to look for someone.

"Someone missing his girl?" Draco teased, pinching his cheek.

Shoving him lightly with his shoulder, Theodore turned his face towards his pestering friend. "Don't smudge m'fucking makeup." He groaned inwardly as he saw no sign of you after his eyes finished their fourth round around the room. "I'm not looking for anyone either. Don't got a girl."

"Ohh yeah, we forgot," Lorenzo snorted beside him. Theodore seemed unamused, brushing past him and bumping his shoulder on the way.

"Seems angry," Blaise said, stifling a laugh.

"Would be too if I lost what he did," Draco shrugged.

Theodore Nott stalked around the perimeter of the large crowd, avoiding the large wings and costumes present. He took a swig out of his red solo cup, about to give up before seeing you walk in.

Seeing your face illuminated in the party's dim lighting, his lips parted slightly, soaking in the way you looked so graceful when entering, yet so lost.

Your headband piqued his interest. His brows furrowing, he tilted his head slightly to get a better view. Definitely his.

You walked around the room, the heel of your shoes clicking. You caught a glimpse of someone with their face completely obscured by their skeleton makeup, but there was no mistaking those eyes.

No way were you going to purposefully talk to him, the sting of your breakup still apparent. You headed towards the drinks, acting as if you were in your element when truth be told, you didn't care for drinking. You stood awkwardly at the table, looking for your friends to no avail.

You saw him striding towards you in the corner of your eyes and quickly scattered to an area with a larger crowd. Planning to circle back to the drinks table to throw him off, you weaved through the people, getting small peeks at different costumes; an American cowboy, a devil, and a very strange furry octopus.

You grabbed a red cup from the table, bringing the emptiness to your lips to fake a sip, your eyes scanning the room intensely, relieved that you lost him.

Your heart was beating faster than usual, a small bead of sweat forming on your forehead. You adjusted the headband to not fall off and straightened your top.

Coming was a mistake. The dark lighting made it difficult for you to locate your friends, Theodore was looking as handsome normal as ever, and the room seemed to shrink with each step you took.

A bit jumpy from nervousness, you started to fill a cup of oddly green punch before feeling a large hand clamp down on your wrist. Flinching, you immediately looked at the one responsible and met their piercing blue eyes.

"Avoiding me?" he said.

The way he said it like he didn't really care, only bothering to use two words like you both hadn't been pretending not to stare at each other for two weeks made you uneasy.

Pulling your hand away, you swallowed before answering. "No."

Your voice made him smile, his face clearly finding humor in your denial.

God, he looked so handsome with the skull makeup.

He placed his hands on both of your shoulders, pulling slightly away from you to get a better view of your face. "I missed you. Did you miss me?"

Unconvinced by him, you looked at him suspiciously, your body taut. "No," you said again. Frowning slightly, he dropped his hands to his side and said,

"I'm serious. I really did."

Your face started to heat up and you bit the inside of your cheeks to contain yourself. You knew that if you didn't restrain yourself, you would immediately jump up into his arms and embrace him like old times.

"Okay," you said quietly. "That's cool." You tried to sound casual, pretending like you didn't notice his gaze flickering to your deer ears and antlers.

"I like the uh, the makeup," he complimented you, gesturing towards his own face.

"Same to you. Skull-- very nice." You nodded slowly, unsure of the conversation's direction.

"Thanks. That mine?" he asked you, pointing at your headband.

Turning pink, you gave a small chuckle. "Uh yeah, just you know--" you said dismissively. "No costume..."

"Ah, I see I see. So, you here with someone?"

"No, no I'm not." You felt a bit surprised by his question, it seemed somewhat bold in a way. You both stood around some more, staring at each other and then looking away only to subtly shift your arms together.

"Alright well, I'm gonna ask you again," he suddenly spoke up. "Did you miss me?"

You didn't want to answer him truthfully, yet you didn't want to just lie to him.

"I did."

It seemed as though those two words were all he needed to hear to do what he did next. Immediately moving his hands to your face, he leaned into a kiss, wasting no time in slipping his tongue into your mouth. It was far more different than the kisses you guys shared before, this time it felt like your mouths were on fire and the other person's was water; the only way to extinguish it. Your hands were still at your side, allowing him to do most of the work.

Pulling away, you swallowed thickly, trying to process what had just happened. He gave a small, amused huff before dropping his head down to face the ground as you stood there dazed.

"I don't think we should..." you started, trying to find the words. "Like just not here right...?"

Theodore looked at the lively party and nodded as he looked back at you. "You're right. Let's find someplace else."

He grabbed your hand lightly, walking you out the door, and leaving the party. You weren't sure why, but you let him, trailing behind him, trying to keep your steps light in the corridors.

"Come on, there's this classroom-- always unlocked," he smiled at you. "Bit far though," he added. You didn't mind. The anticipation and excitement of getting back with Theodore fogged your mind, shooting out every other piece of information that ever resided in your brain.

He brought you to the stairs and you started to descend, but your heels echoed loudly. "Careful, it's past curfew," he said, bringing a finger to his mouth.

"Sorry, sorry!" you whispered. "I can't it's my shoes."

Theodore stopped mid-step and so did you. His head darted around in all directions looking to see if someone was approaching. "Up you go," he said. Before you could possibly protest, he picked you up off the ground, allowing you to wrap your legs around his torso. He placed one of his hands around your back to support you, the other on your ass.

Despite the extra weight, he seemed to have no problem walking at his normal speed, quickly going down the many flights of stairs until you both reached the ground floor. He opened the door to a classroom, shutting it behind you guys before placing you to sit on the teacher's desk in the front of the room. You observed the classroom, your mouth slowly growing wider.

"Theo-- this is McGonagall's room! She's going to fucking kill us!"

He shook his head to reassure you. "She's not going to find out, don't worry."

You looked uncertain and he said nothing, trying to give you some time to believe him.

"Theo?" you piped up.

"Mm?" he answered, leaning on his hand placed on the table you sat on.

"Why did we break up?" you asked him.

He had a smirk on his face, but you could tell he felt as bad as you did. "What do you mean? You broke up with me."

"No I mean, why did we break up? Why did you start acting like that?" You drew invisible circles on the desk, adverting eye contact.

"I was an idiot," he scoffed. "I just- I just got scared. Always felt bad you were too good for me," he said, starting to get agitated with himself. "You're so sweet you know. I'm," he shrugged. He cupped your face with his hands, making you look at him.

"Didn't wanna drag you down with me."

You opened your mouth again to argue, but he brought his finger to your lips before leaning back in for another kiss. You felt his hands all over your body and you brought yours to his jawline. The kisses started soft, clean. But they became sloppy as he went down to kiss your neck.

"I'll be different now," he breathed out. "I promise."

His kisses grew more intense and you couldn't help but let out low whimpers as he reached the top of your chest. He took your shirt off, taking a step back to admire the view of you in your lacy white bra. He unclasped your bra, hanging it on the handle of McGonagall's closet next to her desk.

Never having gotten this far in your previous relationship, he gave a low gasp, cupping one of your tits in his large hands. Fondling you lightly, he then pinched a nipple between his fingers, suppressing his laughter as he watched you squirm on the desk. He bent over slightly taking the other nipple in his mouth.

Having his hand on your tit, combined with him gently sucking the other, you gave out quiet moans, clawing at the edge of McGonagall's desk. Pulling his head away, a string of saliva still connecting his lips to your nipple, he stood back up, bringing his hands to your waist.

He pulled your skirt down your thighs, letting it fall to your ankles. He kneeled down on the ground, shuffling closer to you.

The sight of his face between your legs, his face with the skeleton makeup on, practically had you shaking in excitement. He kept his eyes on you the whole time; as he moved the underwear sticking to your wet cunt aside, lightly trailed a finger over your wet folds, and as he moved his head closer, slipping his hot tongue into you.

"Mmm, T-theo..." you whined as he brought his tongue deeper inside of you. He flicked his tongue around, exploring freely, the sounds coming out sounding far more erotic than what you were used to.

His tongue slipped out of your cunt, and he used it to circle around your clit, eliciting shaky moans from your mouth as you bought your hands to his hair. Your eyes began to water and you felt your orgasm nearing. About to crush his skull with the way you wanted to squeeze your thighs together, your legs shook against the sides of his head.

Theodore placed his hands on your knees, spreading your legs further apart, continuing to travel around your folds with his tongue with increased speed. Before you could orgasm, he pulled away suddenly, making you whine loudly in surprise.

"Theodore..." you said, tugging on his hair. He stood up and began to unbuckle his belt, slipping his pants off.

"Be patient sweetheart," he smiled. His boxers fell down his legs next, his glistening cock springing out. You placed your hands behind your back on the desk to support yourself as you stayed seated and he guided the tip of his cock with your entrance.

You felt a bit afraid, this being your first time having sex with Theodore, and it seemed like he could tell because he tilted your chin up softly and said, "I'll go slow okay?"

You nodded sheepishly, letting him push into you slowly. A tear rolled down your face, some of your deer makeup coming off. He let out a guttural moan as he inserted his large cock fully into your cunt, beginning to move slowly in and out of you.

"F-fuck," you whispered. He found your reaction cute when you looked wide-eyed at him, face contorting with pleasure.

"Got it?" he asked you. You nodded quickly, giving him the message that you were okay. "Yeah, yeah... you can take it," he whispered in your ear.

He went at a moderate pace, not wanting to overexert you for your first time.

"Theo-- Theo!" you huffed out. He stopped, backing away so that only the head of his cock was still in your sopping cunt.

"Yeah, what's up? Are you okay?" he said in concern.

"Faster..." you requested meekly. "Please?"

Surprised but not complaining, he gave a lowly chuckle, practically grinning from ear to ear.

"If that's what my good girl wants."

He increased his pace, thrusting into you quickly. Your soaking folds allowed him back in every time he pulled out. He took your tits into his hands again, twisting and pinching as he simultaneously pumped in and out of you.

Both of your moans filled the room; his low and paced, yours messy and uncontrolled.

You neared an orgasm again and you could tell he was about to come as his hair became mussed and a light layer of sweat glistened on him.

"Shit... Do you want me to come inside? Is that what you want?"

"Y-yes!" you answered desperately. Your legs shook and you threw your head back as your orgasm washed over you, his following suit right after.

His ropes of release filled your insides, beginning to seep out. He pulled out, looking at the mess he made you. He readjusted the headband on you.

"I love you."

You looked at him, mouth somewhat agape before uttering, "I love you too."

He grabbed your head, planting a kiss on your forehead before helping you off the desk and onto your feet. You looked at him hesitantly.

"Does this mean I'm your girl again?"

"Well..." he feigned uncertainty, giving you a gallic shrug.

"Don't tease..." you complained, leaning into him.

"Sorry, y'know I can't help it," he grinned. "And you never stopped being my girl."

―――――――――ʚ♡ɞ―――――――――

[envy-of-the-apple]

Moon Starves Sun (FULL VERSION)

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Part one: Sun Eats Moon

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

(Warnings: forced relationship, implied nsfw content, implied noncon/dubcon, dark content, implied baby trapping)

When Satoru's close like this, he can hear your heartbeat. 

It's been a while. Ten years. An entire decade. Everything about this is different, yet so familiar. He feels like he's finally reached the shores, feeling the warm sands underneath his feet. Like he's been given his favorite food after being starved for years. Everything melts. Everything except for you. 

He'd like to stay like this forever, listening to your rabbit heartbeat, feeling your soft skin, but for your sake, he pulls himself off you. Lying on a wooden desk probably isn't that comfortable. 

Your eyes are shut. Your breathing is shallow. You're so pretty like this under the moonlight. Your clothes are barely hanging onto your body. He can see every mark he's left on you. Part of him wants to make more, but he'll let you off the hook for now. He's nice like that. 

"Still with me?" 

Your eyes flutter open. You don't respond, but at least you're not crying anymore. He can work with that. 

"C'mon, pretty girl," he says, voice soft, "let's piece you back together." 

The belt left lines on your wrists. He'll kiss them better later. For now, Satoru collects your clothes and heels from the floor, placing them on the desk. He helps you reclasp your bra, runs his fingers on your arms when you finish buttoning your blouse. It's a quiet affair. Every so often, he'd catch your eyes. You don't let yourself linger for long. Satoru finds that a little cute. 

You say nothing when he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you out of his office. Maybe you're still dazed, still gathering yourself back up, because you don't struggle as much as he predicted. You try to leave his grip when the two of you reach the lobby. He's quick to stop you. 

"Where, do you think you're goin'?" He grips your wrist when you take a step away. 

You look at him, eyes shimmering like water. 

You swallow. "My apartment. I—I need to go back—" 

He clicks his tongue, bringing you back in. 

"We can get your stuff later." He tells you with a grin. "let's just go home, tonight. I'm exhausted." 

You open your mouth. Satoru waits. You say nothing, and he thinks you're starting to get it. 

The moon is a dusky red tonight. Satoru thinks it's an ugly color. 

☾

If Satoru could describe you in one word, it would be: predicatable. 

Normal, boring, a speck in the crowd—none of these are bad things. Just like how much of the universe is nothing, you're an empty void, too. Not everyone can be like him. From the minute he was born, Satoru was destined for greatness—a prodigy, heir to a millionaire conglomerate, the Sun itself. His life isn't written on his forehead for everyone to read. 

You are the exact opposite. Completely unassuming. He practically knows everything about you without even having to ask. 

Like how Satoru can instantly tell you've never been over to a boy's room before. 

You've probably never even been in a relationship before him, either. Even before he managed to corral you into his arms, you were always so annoying about the other things like school and friends. Though, you don't really have much of the latter anymore. His fault, Suguru never fails to remind him. 

He watches as your eyes linger over his shelf: the numerous trophies and awards. You're still standing meekly in the corner, still garbed in your school uniform, clutching your backpack. He has to roll his eyes at how obviously you're trying not to look at him. 

"What're you waitin' for?" He finally asks. You jump, eyes flitting over to find him before you find the floor. He resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

It's not like you two haven't done shit before. You sucked him off twice now, and he's finger fucked you against the bleachers. You should really stop being such a prude. 

"C'mere, pretty girl." 

You comply, dropping your bag, making your way to the bed. When you look at him from beneath your lashes, warily expectant, Satoru feels a thrill rushing through his body. 

He's always been impatient. It's in his nature to take. He nips at your mouth, eager to taste your soul from your soft lips. Soft. Everything about you is so soft—Malleable beneath his fingers. 

Satoru didn't explicitly say what his plan was, but you aren't stupid. He can tell you know what's about to happen when you stiffen in his hold, turn to stone within his grip. He would've allowed it if you hadn't gripped onto his shirt, pulling yourself away from his feasting. 

"Satoru?" You whisper, still leaning away. "The door...?" 

Annoyed, he glances over. His room is open. It shouldn't really matter. 

"It's fine." Satoru tells you. "No one's here." No one's ever here. 

You still look panicked, hands gripping his shirt. Satoru finds that adorably pathetic. How helpless you are. How that's all because of him.

He's sure to make a big show of it. Satoru gives a dramatic sigh, slumps his shoulders, but eventually pushes himself off the mattress to push at the door. He even clicks it shut. He's too nice, sometimes. 

"Happy?" You nod, you don't look very relaxed but your shoulders have dropped a bit. 

Satoru doesn't feel too guilty pushing you down, not when you're already in his bed. He isn't known for his patience. He tastes your skin, leaving marks when he can: teeth bites. He pushes you down down down down so he can sink his teeth into your flesh.

You're asleep and under the covers by the time he's done. The moon's out too. Satoru watches it, largely unimpressed. It's so tiny, a sliver of glowing white. 

And then you shift, turning ever so slightly, enough to catch his attention. He should probably kick you out and send you home. That's what he usually does. When he gets into bed with you, draping his arms around your limp body, he convinces himself it's because he's tired and waking you up would be too much of an effort. 

He lets himself enjoy your warmth; it's nothing like the cold glow of the moon. 

☾

Sometimes, even Gojo Satoru wonders if he's dreaming. 

Sometimes, life is too perfect for him to realize it is real. Everything falls perfectly in place, fitting together like those jigsaw puzzles his caretakers used to distract him with halfheartedly. 

You're in his kitchen, chopping vegetables. 

It had already been a few weeks, but he still wasn't used to this. You, being in his home, in his kitchen, in his bed. Satoru thinks he's masking it well, but his mind is still reeling, it's a difficult adjustment. 

Not a bad one. 

It's like he's been drowning for years and he can suddenly breathe when he sees your toothbrush next to his. It's like he's been stabbed and waking up to your sleeping face is the aloe. It's like he's been suffering through a blizzard, and you cooking in his kitchen, humming a song he doesn't know, is the warm sunny day. 

Things have changed since he brought you home. His home doesn't feel incomplete anymore. As though the apartment itself has agreed that this is where you belong. There are more clothes in his closet, more shoes by the door. The space is ever so slightly less empty and it fills him with tangible relief. He can cook a meal, but it's still nice coming home to something warm already made. 

It makes Satoru wonder what things could have been like, had it not been taken away from him. 

You flinch when he wraps his hands around your waist, nestling into the space in your shoulder. You hadn't heard him come in, apparently. Regardless, you don't linger, fingers hesitating before resuming your task. He finds this part of you adorable. Ignoring the thing that makes your heart race, as though he'll just fade away into the shadows. 

It's his ego that makes him slink into your warm skin, making sure you know he isn't going anywhere. 

"Smells good," he says. 

You nod, pushing away the bell peppers in favor of the onions. Unlike him, you acclimated extremely well. It'd taken nothing to lightly push you to add more and more stuff from your apartment to his. You quietly moved from one setting to another. He remembered this trait of yours from high school. Go with the flow. 

Though, perhaps, it was less out of genuine apathy. Satoru doesn't have to say what will happen to you if you refuse him. He doesn't have to throw lectures about his family and the influence he has on you. He likes that you aren't stupidly brave. He likes that you're meeker, quieter. You pick your battles. 

But he thinks he'd like to see you crack, just one more time. 

"Hey," he says, "let's go out for dinner tomorrow night. There's this restaurant just out of town that has great shrimp cutlet." 

He expects you to nod, like you always do whenever he decides to do something impulsive and meaningless. Instead, you bite your lip. 

"I can't." You mutter after a minute of silence. "I have work. Mr. Higuruma just closed a deal and—and I think I'll be coming home later and later this week." 

Home. It's enough to make his heart flutter. It's the first time you've called the apartment that. Your words almost make him forget about the second thing you said.

Higuruma. The lawyer guy with dead eyes. Satoru remembers him. He always looked at Satoru like he was a child, too stupid to do anything. He never liked how the guy looked at you. Besides, he was way too old for you, never mind that you were taken. You were always taken.

"Oh, right." Satoru gives an exaggerated sigh, fully leaning on you. "Work. What a shame." 

You nod, clearly thinking the conversation is done with. Satoru wasn't so charitable. 

"Y'know, you don't really have to work. Not anymore, pretty girl." His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly as he pulls you towards his chest. Your hands freeze. The knife glints in your fingers. 

"I make plenty of money. You should just stay home. That way, you don't have to work shitty hours." 

You stiffen underneath his fingertips. He's disappointed when your skin turns frigid. When he peeks over your shoulder, intent to look at your face, there's a nervous smile twitching on your lips. 

"I don't think that's a good idea..." you trail off hesitantly. 

"Hm?" He tilts his head with faux confusion. "Why not?" 

The knife moves up and down, as though you can't decide whether to place it back on the cutting board. Satoru realizes it's your way of fidgeting. 

"It...it would just be unprofessional to leave when everything is so hectic." You finally decide on. 

Satoru scoffs. "So? Who cares. I'm sure everything will work itself out. Just rely on me, pretty girl." 

You don't like the answer, but you don't make a comment on it. Satoru just watches you rotate the knife in your hands. He wonders if you want to use it on him. Slice at his neck, leave him out to bleed on the pretty tile floor. Cut straight through his heart, ending it quickly. 

Or would you like to carve out his eye and keep it as a souvenir? He thinks he'd happily let you. It sounds romantic.

You don't do anything. Instead, you pull back your shoulders as if you're physically ready for war. 

"'Toru," you say gently, softly, and it works in his eyes, "I...can't let you support me like this. It's not right. It's not like we're married or anything." You laugh, like it's a joke. Satoru doesn't cave. 

"I mean, not yet." Satoru rocks you back and forth in his hold. "But gimme' some time to shop for a ring, okay? It needs to be perfect for my perfect girl." 

You follow his movements. He can see your mouth twitch out of the corner of his eye. Your eyes get glassy. 

He knows he's terrible, but he really wants you to crack. 

"You're right, Satoru." You say, "I'll put in my two weeks tomorrow." He grins in delight. 

"That's a great idea, baby." Satoru kisses you on the cheek.

Right, you pick your battles. 

☾

Satoru tells you he loves you, and you're gone, not even three days later. 

He breaks and shatters into pieces he'll never be able to put back. Each day without you is torture. He feels like a corpse, just going through the motions. His clothes feel looser. His skin doesn't feel like his own anymore. Every time he looks in the mirror, he sees someone he barely even recognizes. 

It's like you left with his heart. 

No, you ran away with his soul. 

One day, you were Satoru's, safely tucked underneath his arm...the next, you just weren't. 

His parents don't acknowledge it beyond casual disgust. Every time Suguru talks to him, Satoru can barely comprehend it. Days pass by. Everything reminds him of you. His bed feels emptier; he hates it when he reaches out to the space you used to take up and finds it cold. Your locker remains untouched. Nothing is ever the same. 

Satoru tries looking for you, but you're untraceable. No social media, no friends left to tell where you went, not even your fucking parents know where you are. 

You left him. 

You left him to rot. 

Denial comes first. It can't be. You wouldn't. You wouldn't fucking dare. Anger seeps in the next. For weeks, Satoru can only imagine what he'll do when he finds you. He'll break your legs this time. He'll squeeze your neck so hard that your head pops. He'll kill you over and over again until your corpse is begging to be forgiven. And he won't ever stop, because you're Satoru's. 

That doesn't stay for long. He feels himself get weaker day by day. Food tastes like dirt on his tongue. Any of his earlier vices are gone. 

He misses you. 

Why wouldn't he? You were his everything. 

Like all things, it passes. You aren't there to fuel the flames, so the fire wanes in his chest. The ache in his heart gets smaller and smaller. Things keep him busy. College. Then, his new position in the office. 

Ten years pass. He’s forgotten what you look like. But he remembers parts. Every so often, he sees a flicker of you within someone else. Your eyes are on another woman’s face. Your lips on a girl's smile. It irritates him to no end. It’s even worse when he starts seeking them out, keeping those parts of them for just the night. 

Sometimes, if he closes his eyes, he can still hear your voice—what he thinks is your voice—soft, needy Toru Toru Toru. 

“Gojo, sir?” 

He blinks. Ijichi stands in front of him. Satoru looks down at the meticulously crafted pages. 

“Mr. Higuruma needed you to sign this,” Ijichi lifts a paper filled with bureaucratic bullshit he pays other people to understand.

Why did Suguru take off now? 

“Sure sure,” Satoru says, “I’ll get it done.” 

Ijichi shifts nervously. “Well, it’d be best to finish it right now, Sir. His paralegal is just about to leave the building.” 

Oh, right. The lawyer’s assistant. Gojo could never get a good look at that person, but the assistant resembled a shaking deer to him at most times. He’s not even sure if they’ve ever talked to each other, but he always found the other a bit odd. Big eyes. A shaky expression. 

It was a little annoying to look at. 

☾

Some executive was throwing an office gala, and since he is Gojo Satoru, he needed to come along. 

And since you are Satoru's, you're dragged along too. 

Honestly, the only upside to this is you and that new dress he bought you. A velvet turquoise dress that he can't take his eyes off of. The gold jewelry draped across your neck makes you even more delectable. But his favorite part of the outfit is the shimmering diamond ring. 

The ceremony hadn't been anything extravagant. He'd just booked out one of his favorite restaurants, ordering lobster and sweet wine. He remembered hearing his heartbeat when he bent down on one knee, opening the elegant ringbox, like an oyster revealing its pearl. Looking back, he didn't know why he was so nervous: it's not like you'd say no. 

"What do you think of it?" He asked when you were back in his bed, bare from everything except that glistening ring. 

"It's pretty." You spoke, perfectly nestled in his chest. 

He feels in his heart when he hugs you, a small kiss in your hair. You say something, but he can't hear it; he is too preoccupied with feeling you in his arms. It's still so new, even after all these weeks. It's the anxiety, knowing at any second you could leave and he'd be nothing. He won't allow that, he can't. 

"I thought about something else, y'know?" He speaks quietly in your hair. "Ropes, chains, maybe. I could keep you here, forever. But—but then I realized how sad you'd get. I couldn't go through with it." 

You give no reaction. When he tilts your chin up to get a better look at you, your eyes are glassy. 

"You get that, right?" 

You nod. He's really too nice, sometimes. 

He spends the entire evening with you, tucked away in a corner, away from prying eyes. Just because he has to be there doesn't mean he has to be sociable. Every time someone walks up to him and you, a drink in one hand, he resists the urge to bite their head off, feigning politeness. He complains about their lack of decorum to you multiple times throughout the night, his head resting on your shoulder. You pliantly sit there, listening and nodding. 

About ten minutes after the last board member left, someone else walks up. By then, Satoru's patience has mostly declined. He peers over with disdain before he can really process who he's seeing. 

"Suguru!" He waves over. 

You stiffen, and Satoru remembers you haven't seen him in ten years. 

Suguru walks over with an easy smile on his face. He's nicely tanned, and Satoru is reminded of the pictures he sent over of the Maldives. Maybe that's where the honeymoon should be. 

"Had fun slacking?" Satoru asks with a grin; Suguru shrugs. 

When his eyes meet yours, he feigns delighted surprise. Suguru speaks your name with practiced shock. It's imperfect, only Satoru can see the amusement dripping from his fangs. 

"Long time, no see!" Effortlessly, Suguru corrals you into a hug. You follow, giving into the cold touch of affection before pulling away back to him. 

"Hello, Geto." You say when you're rightfully by his side again. "It's nice to see you again." 

Suguru laughs, light and airy. "You as well!" He looks at your hands, tilts his head. "Oh? Congratulations, you two! When's the date?" 

"Eh, we'll figure that out later." Satoru gives a quick kiss on your cheek. "Everything happened so fast, y'know? Us reuniting and everything: It feels like fate." Suguru's eyes flash. "Let's not rush this. We'll take our time." 

Suguru nods along thoughtfully. He's looking right at you, and you stare right back. Not used to feeling left out, Satoru is quick to intervene. 

The conversation is light, two long-time friends reuniting after a long spell. You stay quiet like decor, settling into Satoru's side. Suguru doesn't acknowledge you after that. 

"We gotta' go. It's getting late." He eventually says, tugging you along. 

Suguru gives a pleasant smile. "Of course, of course. We should catch up sometime." He directs this at you. You give a strained smile before Satoru leads you off. 

"Suguru." The man turns. Satoru grins. 

"I loved my gift. Thanks, man." 

Suguru's smile is catlike. 

"You kids have fun." He calls out right when Satoru's dragging you away all over again. 

You're silent. Not in the way you usually are, pliant and cute. You're thinking. He gives you a nudge. 

"What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?" 

You shake your head. "Nothing." And then you say, "He's changed." 

From your view, Satoru supposed that's true, but really—

"Nah." Gojo shakes his head. "He's just dropped his act." 

Satoru's hand was wrapped around your waist when you two ran into him. You hadn't noticed him yet, eyes fixed on the floor. The lawyer hadn't changed since the last time Satoru saw him. That dead expression, those creepy eyes. Higuruma's eyes flit over your figure, before he finds Satoru's. 

He stares. Satoru stares right back. Something gives, and the lawyer calls out your name. 

"How are you?" His tone is cool, and this is another reason why Satoru can't stand him. The guy has no tells. He's just a talking robot. 

Unlike you, fidgeting by his side, practically vibrating with nerves. 

"I'm fine, sir." Your smile gets more painful to look at by the second. 

Your voice earns you a tired smile, a mild pinch of humor. Higuruma shakes his head, waving you off. 

"No need for formalities. We aren't at work." His smile drops just a bit, as he watches you for a bit more, eyes flickering to your hand. "I was...surprised when I saw the announcement. I didn't know you and Mr. Gojo were involved." 

Satoru grins, making himself known like a shark in the water. His grip on you tightens. 

"Oh, you didn't tell your boss 'bout us, baby?" He looks down at you with cruel mirth, pinching your cheek. You wilt. "We go way back—highschool sweethearts. Lost contact for a couple years. It's actually thanks to you we were able to find each other again. We'll send you the invites." He presses a kiss to your hairline. 

Higuruma hums at that. Satoru expected jealousy in his eyes; he's even more upset when he finds none. 

"I'll be sure to save the date." 

Then he shuts Satoru down completely. 

"I heard about your resignation. It's sad to see you go," Higuruma says. 

You nod, but you don't look at him. "Satoru and I talked about it, and we decided it's best if I focused on other things." 

"Very, very busy, this one nowadays." Satoru interrupts. "Between wedding plannin' and all that."

"Is that so?" Higuruma says dismissively, "in any case, you already knew this, but I've begun preparations to start a new firm." He reaches into his wallet, pulling out a card. "I always thought you were good at what you do. If you ever want to get back into the industry, call me." 

You take the laminate slip with a quiet thank you. Satoru feels blue turn into red. 

When Higuruma slips into the party, Satoru tightens his grip on you a little harsher than necessary. He's dragging you through the halls. Behind him, he can hear you stumbling over your heels, begging him to slow down. He knows he should care, but he doesn't. That damn lawyer. Those dead eyes. Mocking him. 

"Did you fuck him?" He asks when his anger has reached a high enough peak that he presses you against the wall. 

Your eyes are wild, flitting back and forth. He'd your expression a little cute if he wasn't feeling like a furnace, at the moment. 

"No. I—we never." You say. "Mr. Higuruma was my boss. And—and he's married—" 

"Really? 'cause you're precious 'Mr. Higuruma' was eyeing you up and down like he's already seen what's underneath." 

"'Toru." You plead. "Let's—let's just talk about this at home. Please? Let's just go home." Home. You said that word again. If he were a better man, he'd melt, but he's not. 

"Shut up." He spits out. "Hike up your dress." 

You stare at him. Then, you try to smile, like he's making a shitty joke. It wavers on your lips. 

"It's...we're still in public." You whisper and it's so cute you think he'd actually care about that. "We—we can't...we shouldn't—" 

"Baby." His voice drops, as he licks at your neck. "Pull up your dress, get rid of those panties. Otherwise, I'm just gonna take it off myself." 

He doesn't need to explain anything further. You already get what he's saying. Right now, Satoru doesn't care if you leave this building with your clothes intact. 

He thinks the worst part is that he knows he's being unreasonable. He's backing you into a corner where you'll have no choice but to surrender, and he knows that, but he keeps thinking about those man's eyes and how he looked at you and it was just all so much. 

He'll apologize to you later, with flowers and shiny gold earrings. He'd give you the world; just be good for him now. 

He just needs his fix. So just be good for him now.

☾

When Satoru discovers it's been you all along, he feels like an idiot. 

In a pathetic way of defending himself, he convinces himself there's no way he could have recognized you. You're so different compared to your high-school self. 18-years old, fresh-eyed, naive. The you now is all grown up: a mature voice, a new hairstyle, clothes he'd never even think you'd wear. 

It also didn't help that he couldn't even see your face since you turned away every time he looked at you. 

Embarrassing. He's just glad Suguru wasn't here to call his blunder. 

He thought about it a lot. He spent an hour in his office, pacing around, doing nothing but thinking and thinking and thinking. Part of him wants to corner you already. He can already feel your rabbit heartbeat on his fingertips, the look you always had in your eyes when he was right in front of you. Part of him wants to ruin your life the same way you ruined his. He wants to tear you apart, piece by piece. Leave you in tattered pieces. 

But he can't do that. Satoru still loves you. 

You left him a hollow shell. Broken. Tainted. There are pieces of him he still can't find. He should hurt you. He's hurt other people for doing less. But they weren't you. Even after all those years, he's never quite stopped loving you. 

But he wants to sate his bloodlust, just a tiny bit. 

His perfect opportunity comes where he, the lawyer, and you are all sitting in one of the waiting rooms. The lawyers explaining something, possibly about the ongoing case. Satoru doesn't really care. Besides, this is what Ijichi's here for. 

He waits until everyone is quiet. You're unassuming. By then, your shoulders have lowered, like you think you've gotten away with it 

"Hey," he says, "do we know each other?" 

The other two don't bother, but you stop completely. The pen in your grip shakes. Satoru resists the urge to laugh. 

You timidly glance up like you're still delusional enough to think there's a fifth person he's talking to. Satoru has always been told his eyes are like two suns: bright and intense. He lowers his glasses. You wilt under the solar flares. 

"Hm?" He prods, enjoying the way you shrivel. "Have we?" 

You swallow, glassy eyes flicking from side to side. Finally, you clear your throat. 

"No." You mutter, voice barely a whisper. "I don't think we have." 

"Are you sure?" To intensify the magnifying glass, he leans closer, like he's examining you. "'cause you look really familiar." 

To his delight, you chew on your bottom lip. He can imagine biting it until it's bloody and raw. He stops just when you're about to shatter completely. Breaking you too soon would take the fun out of it. 

"Oh, wait. I don't think that was you." He relents, pulling back and he can see the relief ooze over your face. "I think I got you mixed up with someone who interviewed here a couple months ago. My bad. Maybe you have one of those faces." 

You nod, eager to take the out. 

"Yes," you quickly say, "one of those faces." 

How adorable. You haven't changed since high school. 

He's usually not this obvious, but Suguru isn't here to berate him about it and it's not like anyone else will get on his ass. The women he brings in are his usuals: tall models with full lips and perfect bodies. Satoru parades them around like expensive jewelry. He wants to see you seethe in envy, stew in it. He wants you to see what you abandoned. 

But you don't do any of that. You just sit there, like the dutiful little workbee you are, right by your boss's side.

And then, you give one of them your jacket. Satoru can't stand it wrapped around her waist like she fucking owns it—own you. She wears it so flagrantly, like any token from you shouldn't be worshipped and coveted. He hates it. He hates it. 

"I've never done this in an office before." She squeals when she shuts the door behind her. "So, how do you—" 

"Get out." 

The girl pauses. What was her name again? Satou was too pissed to give a single shit. 

"Um, what?" 

"What, you deaf or something?" He waves her off as if he weren't seething. "Get out." 

"Oh," she says, blinks, and then she takes a step back. 

"Wait." Satoru stops her. 

"Take that off." He points to your jacket. She does it with zero complaints. When he tells her to drop it on the chair, she follows that too. Reluctant expectation. Kind of like you. Maybe that's why he was initially invested in her. 

He only takes the fabric after she's gone. It's soft underneath his fingertips. Nothing designer, but good quality. When you're finally underneath him again, he'll buy you better clothes, all the jackets you want. 

He needs you. He can't wait anymore. 

He needs you, whether you want him or not. 

☾

Satoru wakes up to something crashing. 

It's faint, obviously coming from the bathroom. Not the best way to be woken up. He remembers the first few nights he brought you home. He'd hear you crying in your sleep, choking on tiny sobs. It was the sweetest little thing, like a whimpering puppy. 

These noises are a little more concerning. 

He yawns, sliding out of bed. You didn't bother locking the door. You didn't even close it all the way, either. A sliver of light comes from the crack before he pushes it open. 

"Baby?" He calls. You don't answer. 

You had knocked over a caddy. Toothbrushes, hairclips, soap dispensers, perfume bottles were scattered all over the floor. You're curled up in the corner of the bathroom, huddled right next to the tub. You seem physically okay, no blood, no bruising, but he can't see your face. And you're shivering. 

Satoru's about to call out to you, when he steps on something. He looks down at the tiles. 

A positive pregnancy test. 

"I'm not keeping it." Your voice is hoarse, like you've been crying for hours. "I'm not keeping it." 

"Pretty girl." He coos, trying his best to keep the glee out of his voice and failing. "Let's not worry 'bout that, right now. C'mon, let's get you off the floor." He reaches for your hand. You smack it away. It stung. 

When you look at him, eyes bloodshot and brimming with angry tears, Satoru's heart skips a beat. He feels like he just trapped a wild animal, making it pace in a corner. Any wrong move could result in his hand getting bit off. It's scary. 

He's finally cracked you. 

"Fuck you." Your voice shakes and wobbles, but it's loud and you're clear. "Fuck you. You're a sick, twisted man-child. You ruined everything. You ruined my entire life and—and now you—" 

You're cut off by his giggling. It sounds psychotic even to his ears. He's beyond caring. You flinch when lifts your face up, forcing you to look into his eyes. He's smiling so hard it hurts. 

"Yeah, I did that. I ruined you. I ruined your entire fucking life. For me." He stresses, squeezing your face so hard you try to pull away. "But I had to. You—you wouldn't be here if I didn't." He sighs, pressing your body to his. "I need you."

You're both huddled on the bathroom floor, captive and lover. He's clutching you to his chest, smiling, nestling his face in your hair. You don't say anything for a while. 

"I'm not keeping it." You whisper. "I'm not. I wouldn't stand it if it ended up like you." 

It's spiteful. You're still in that phase where you think your venom can hurt him, as though he'd see your blows as anything but blessings. Satoru thinks to his own childhood. Where he was given everything, lathered in gold and silver. Yet, the house was always cold. But you were always so warm. 

"That won't happen." He tells you. "'cause you're here." 

Your anger has dwindled to smoke. Maybe you've finally realized how crazy he was for you. 

"Please let me go." It's not a beg. It's not even a request. 

"I can't," he honestly says. 

"You won't." You correct him. 

He smiles in your hair. 

"No baby," he says, "I can't." 

If you ran away again, if you escaped his claws, he'd probably die. Drop dead, rot on the floor. He needs you. Even more than he needs food, water, and oxygen. You won't understand that. You've never been in love before. 

You don't fight him. If anything, you sink into his hold. He's there to catch you, heart soaring. You lean into his chest 

"I hate you." You whisper. His heart beats a little faster. It's probably the first time you've ever been so honest with him. 

God, he loves you. 

"I hope our baby has your eyes," he says. 

"I hope our baby looks exactly like you." 

You say nothing, but when he leans down to kiss you, you finally kiss back. You're cracked, and your essence is ready to be molded in his image, just like he's always wanted you to be. 

If Satoru is the Sun, then you must certainly be his universe, the plane in which he rests, because there would be no existence for him if not for you. 

[hypnagogics]

Bro I literally eat up ur writing every time😭can u do ellie using a vibe on u?

before you read.

☆: KILLING 3 BIRDS W ONE STONE HEHE. i feel these all go well, so why not. sorry for the insane wait, and the wildly lazy writing...me putting this off forever only to bang out a crappy blurb in like 2 mins...also can't stick to a single aesthetic WHATEVA.

◇: vibrator use, fingering, porn w/out plot (sawry), dom-ish ellie (but she's still kinda silly), overstimulation, squirting, aftercare at the end (all r! recieving).

"you can take it, doin' so good." she murmurs under her breath, her face contorted in concentration.

you squeal when ellie presses the vibrator hard against your poor, overworked clit, the sensations almost too much to bear. but no matter how overwhelming it may be, it's still so mind numbingly good. the device has been set on a mode midway for the past...however long, and you've completely lost count of how many times she's made you cum thus far. for all you knew, it could have been well into the double digits, and she didn't seem to be stopping any time soon.

ellie’s eyes were dark, low with blown out pupils. they remain trained on you, flickering between observing your facial expressions, your squirming body, covered in a shiny layer of sweat, and what's going on under her hands. "...ellie, hold on...wait." you gasp out, struggling to catch your breath.

she detaches the device from you, her tattooed hand traveling up your body, settling on the side of your face to cup your cheek, and wipe away a stray tear that had escaped from your eye. "need a break, babe?" she says, her gaze softening. that honey voice she puts on, featuring a light domineering timbre, it immediately makes you wet all over again and you whimper quietly, bucking your hips up in pursuit of more stimulation. she notices—of course she does, observant as a fox—and her lips stretch into a sneer, "yeah that's what i thought, still need more." she chuckles, before thrusting the tip of the toy back onto your swollen clit, biting her lip when she watches you arch backward, mantras of her name and pleas falling from your lips.

her free hand, which was previously resting on your knee, flies down the inside of your parted thighs, grazing the heated skin, and she teases your hole with two digits, eagerly observing the reactions. she quickly stuffs her middle two fingers inside with ease, slick and pearly cum leaking down her slender knuckles. curling upwards to massage your g-spot, the pleasure is causing explosions of colors to appear in your vision, your eyes are filling with tears once again.

"just gimme one more, okay?" ellie orders gently, clicking buttons to increase the intensity of the vibrator even more, and you nearly shriek. out of instinct your legs fight to close around her hands, but she's quick to push your knee to the side again, tutting. "nuh-uh, don't do that. just one more. say the safeword if you really want me to stop, alright?" you open one eye and nod meekly at her, and she resumes. within no time at all you feel the brink of orgasm swell in your lower abdomen once more, your legs trembling at every purr of the toy. and she can tell as well by the way you're whining and panting, all with a fucked out, lazy smile playing on your face.

silent moans trapped in your throat, you feel the blinding ecstasy overtake your body, blacking out your senses for a moment. she has lessened the setting to work you through it effectively, all while muttering sweet praises throughout.

"god, look at that." she whispers in awe once it's over, discarding the device on the floor and rubbing her hands across your legs to ease the tension in your thighs, making sure you're okay. she hovers over you to press a tender kiss to your forehead, then over your entire face, grinning when she hears you laugh.

her goofy tone returns, "fuckin' squirted all over me, baby. we'll clean up just gimme a sec." she cuddles up to you, nuzzling her face in the crook of your neck, sighing and softly stroking the top of your head. "next time we'll do a couple more, make a new personal best, whaddaya think?"

tags (idk why some didn’t work): @andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @r3starttt @littlefallenangel111 @srooch @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ine @anniee333 @flowrmoth @liddysflyer @fortune777 @claude999 @brunaedn @lanabaezzzz

[sincerelybubbles]

hotch x shy!bau!reader <3 fem content: slight age gap implied. reader is new to the team and more on the introverted side! not proof read, as is my hubris.

Tired, nerves buzzing from a night spent up and chasing sleep that was not welcoming, you throw your bag down on your desk and go off in hunt of coffee. You usually try to curb your caffeine intake, especially with the travel associated with your new job, but this morning is a happy exception to your new rule.

"Here," Emily says, watching you scan the cabinets of the kitchen. You hadn't heard her walk in, but she's offering you a mug with a sympathetic smile. "Long night?"

"Yes," you say, tone thankful, and spin to figure out the coffee machine.

"Three weeks and i haven't seen you use that once," she comments, sipping from her own warm mug and watching you settle the filter in place.

"I've stayed away. it's harder to sleep when I get back because of the jet lag, anyway, don't need to add coffee at all odd hours to the list, too."

It's the most you've said in casual conversation like this. To say you've been shy with your new team would be an understatement. You're good at your job, you were pulled from the academy early to do this for a reason. You fit well into the team, generally. You like listening to Spencer ramble, especially on the longer flights. Rossi's dry humor reminds you of one of your old professors you grew up admiring. JJ is a constant breath of fresh air, Morgan's consistent strength has built up your own moral. Garcia took no getting used to, lifting you up and settling into your life easily. Hotch is intimidating but kind under the colder-tones, long glances sometimes distracting but oterhwise comforting. Emily is easily one of your favorites on the team, friendly and whip-smart. But, at the core of it, you're shy. Painfully so, even.

The team caught onto this quick, settling into the truth that your observational nature that makes you so adept at noticing the smaller details is bound to weep into your social life as well. So, despite your comfort levels rising with the team, you find these situations hard. Do you explain your nightmares to Emily? Share that you're a diagnosed insomniac who spent the night watching FRIENDS reruns after chasing sleep that pranced beyond reach?

"You're better than me, then," Emily says, smiling over her mug. Her eyes tell you she's pleased at the little crack into your life that you've let her see. They're all like that: insufferably kind and polite with your introverted nature but greedily sipping up everything they can learn about you.

"It's a new development," you admit, clicking start on the machine and settling back against the counter facing her. Something about your sleepiness makes it easier to talk, your tongue looser, your ache to let loose around the team more profound. "I'm sure most of us are insomniacs, though."

"Not me," Emily says, chuckling. "I get home and feel like I don't wake up until I get back here."

"Ah, well, I'm sure it can feel like a curse no matter what way you fall," you say with a shrug. Emily lifts her coffee in cheers to that.

"Morning," Morgan says, turning into the kitchen and giving you a surprised smile. "Hello, sunshine, you're looking bright eyed today."

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "I know, I know."

Emily points with her chin at you, "She's making the coffee this morning."

"Ah-ah, remaking it because you and pretty boy always get here first and finish the first pot." Morgan teases her with a slight shake of his head, grinning and opening the fridge to pull out the creamer.

"Well, you snooze you loose. Or," she sends you a smile, complete with a little nose wrinkle and a tilt of her head, "you don't snooze and still loose."

"Clever," you say, voice dry with humor, hiding your laugh by turning around as the pot finished brewing. "I'll remember this later."

"Careful, she's got teeth," Morgan warns Emily, reaching around you to grab the coffee before you can and filling his cup.

"Hey!" You call in protest, voice raising louder than usual and a pout hitting your lips. Morgan laughs, white teeth on display, eyes crinkled at the corners.

"Here, here," he says, placating, tipping the pitcher to fill your cup as well. "Any sugar or cream to placate the beast?"

Before you can answer, a laugh on the tip o your tongue, Hotch walks in and settles his watchful eyes on you, interest sparking them. You shrink, not in fear but in self-awareness, and send him a closed lip smile. Stepping away from Morgan, you turn quickly to fix your own coffee.

"Good morning," Hotch says, nodding at Emily and Morgan, answering Emily's question about Jack's recent sickness (he's recovering well, thank you) and trying to catch your eye.

You duck away, cowardly and regressing back into your shell, deciding it's time to get to work and stop indulging. You catch Morgan tease Hotch as you leave, though, "Aw, you've scared her off."

You try not to think about it as you duck away, pushing all thoughts of your boss away.

You're unsuccessful.

The problem isn't that you're afraid of him because you think he's mean or unkind in any way. He's done his best to welcome you to the team, allowing you to take investigations in your own direction and listening to your insights since day one. There was a brief moment in your first week where you felt tested, like his questions weren't to gain your insight but to see if you were up to the task, but you slipped past that easily. you have the credentials to back yourself up. you're quiet, yeah, but you're always right on track to where you need to be. pulled early from academy to jump into investigating was hard but it made this easy. a few years of experience under your belt and the job feels natural and, even with the shift in teams to join the big guns in Quantico, you feel like you're exactly where you're meant to be.

No, embarrassingly, this has nothing to do with you not liking your boss or being afraid of him. Rather, he makes you too comfortable. He ducks his head to hear you speak as you walk and talk, settling deep eyes on your face. He's sturdy, dependable, and exactly everything you're all too interested in.

You hate it, harboring a school crush on your boss like you're a teen pining over your teacher. You know it's normal, you know it's perfectly reasonable and there's absolutely nothing wrong with being attracted to him, but you still slink away from him more than the others because of that attraction.

Because it's more than physical.

He listens when you talk. Granted, so do the rest of the team - they're profilers, of course they catalogue everything everyone is saying for future reference. But, beyond that, you catch him paying attention. He complimented your new blouse earlier in the week and it caused air to catch in your throat, suffocating you. It looked new, bright white and without wrinkles, but you knew he must have been looking, noticing, to remember you not wearing it before. He's kind, remembering details about you and the team and using them to aid in everyone's comfort. He knows Spencer can't handle dairy and you've heard him reminding an intern to stock the dairy-free alternatives for creamer in the jet. He brought you a neck pillow on your second flight because you didn't have one.

That gift you accepted with stuttering thank-you's and a flushed face. It hadn't flared this crush, but it definitely aided in your ability to accept it when you finally got around to no longer avoiding how he made you feel with every kind smile and gentle good morning.

You settle down at your desk, putting your steaming mug on a pile of paperwork you really need to sort through, and try to physically push the thoughts out of your head by ranking your hands through your hair, lifting it from your forehead and squeezing your eyes shut. Today isn't the day. You're too tired, sure that the team will be flying out today, and really need to be on your A-Game.

"Everything okay?" A calm voice asks from your elbow. When you look up, you decide the universe hates you. Hotch is leaning on the desk adjacent to yours, holding his own travel cup full of fresh coffee, chin tilted down to check on you. His gaze is kind, light on your face, and his eyebrows are lifted slightly. You get the feeling that he's doing everything in his power to present himself as less imposing.

"Yes, of course," you answer automatically, heart thudding in your throat.

"You know, you shouldn't lie to profilers," he says, tone teasing, voice still low. "If you're tired, it's okay to admit it to me, too."

You're about to brush him off when something in your brain freezes before clicking into place.

He's looking at you, pleading, expression open. He's usually guarded, professional. Caring, but with a guard up. Rare are these moments of genuine asking, especially rarer so are the moment of pleading hidden behind a mask of gentle humor. You think, briefly, about how it must seem to him. He heard you, Emily, and Morgan joking in the kitchen. You haven't been here long, you're shy, but slowly thawing to everyone but him. He doesn't know your reasons, he couldn't, you've made a genuine effort to hide them, and you force yourself to see it from his perspective.

"Sorry," you say, softly, slowly. "I didn't sleep well. First nightmares and then insomnia. Hence," you gesture toward your mug. You shrug, heart beating out of your chest, eyes searching his. Nice, be nice, be open and kind and yourself. "At least I have FRIENDS reruns to keep me company."

You see something relax in him at your gentle offering of the information. He sends you a not-quite-smile, nodding once and pushing himself off of the desk he was lightly leaning against.

"Take a few minutes, I'm sure JJ will call us in soon." He scans your face for a moment before looking down at your desk. He reaches forward, slowly but with purpose, and lifts a file that has been nagging you for days. The new computer system is hard to get used to and the paperwork load is heavier than you've experienced before. "I can help you with this to ease some of your load, too."

He's walking away before you can protest, tucking the file under his arm and ducking into his office. He moves swiftly, leaving no room for argument, and you're left at your desk, mouth agape and heart in your mouth.

"Wow," Spencer says, jolting you in your chair to spin around and face him. His desk is near yours, across a walkway, and you hadn't registered him sitting there. You think he was nose-deep in a book when you walked in but you hadn't been paying attention. "I don't think I've seen him warm up to someone that fast," Spencer admits, leaning back in his seat and giving you a confused look, eyebrows lowered. "Actually, he's never offered to help me do my paperwork. Ever."

"That's because you read far too fast for it to actually help you," you offer, mind racing, words hollow as your thoughts are elsewhere.

Eyes trained on the windows of Hotch's office, you take his advice and relax for the few minutes before JJ comes to gather you all in the conference room. Coffee on your lips, you let yourself smile behind the rim of your mug. You can't imagine how you could think of anything other than that, really.

[luvyeni]

( SPOOKTOBER ) what's your favorite scary movie ! 🎞️ 一 양정인 ՞

𝓟 airings. ghostface!jeongin x fem!reader wc. 2.1k

🕸️◞ WARNINGS. morally fucked reader, murder, knife kink, oral ( ayen. receiving ), unprotected sex, rough sex

「 ♱ authors note 」 is it really spooktober without a ghostface fic?? happy day 4 everyone!!

never answer a phone number you don't know; your mother always told you this. you don't know who could be calling. she always told you , and you thought she was just being a paranoid parent — besides with what's going on in the world, who has the time to prank call someone.

“did you hear the news this morning?” you mother panicked. “what is it now mom?” you stood at the microwave, heating up some leftover food. “apparently there's a serial killer , targeting people over the phone.” you scoffed. “mom please, i told you they were pranks , stop reading articles from facebook.” you laughed. “i didn't read it on facebook , it's on the news.” she said. “look for yourself , it's on now.”

giving her the satisfaction, you walked to your living room; picking up the remote , switching on the television. “did you find it?” you clicked through the channels , finding the new station. “yeah , im watching now.”

“3 reports of murder have happened over the span of three weeks, sources claim victims all happened to be linked with a killer known as ghost face….”

“see.” she exclaimed , “you need to be careful now that you're all alone.” she said. “make sure all of your door are lock and you must never an- answer the phone for numbers you don't know.” you interrupted her. “i get it mom.” you said, the microwave going off. “i have to go now, my food is ready.” she hummed , giving another quick safety lesson. “okay, mom i love you too.” you said before hanging up , tossing your phone on the couch.

you made your way back to the kitchen to retrieve your food; only to be stopped dead in your tracks by your phone ringing again. “mom.” you scoffed, turning back around to the living room , picking your phone up from the couch , not bothering to look at the number. “mom i told you i will call you tomorrow , im fine , really.” you said , only to be met with silence. “mom?”

“what's your favorite scary movie?”

you scoffed hanging up the stupid. “so fucking stupid.” you made your way back to the kitchen , finally able to eat your leftovers , standing at your kitchen counter , scrolling through your phone while you ate , multiple articles about this ghost face killer all up and down your feed. “gosh.” you said reading the details. “so violent.”

you were about to continue on , when you got another phone call— but it wasn't your mother , it was an unknown caller. “who could this be?” you said , your thumb hovering over the decline button , you thought about that call from before; now you were curious. “screw it.” you hit the answer button. “hello?”

there was a slight breathing before a voice spoke up. “what's your favorite scary movie?” the same voice again. “who is this?” you asked , it was silence again. “hello?” you dragged out the the last syllable , but still no answer. “im hanging up now.” you said. “you haven't answered me princess?”

“so you do have a voice?” you said. “what kind of question is this?” you asked , putting your dishes in the sink. “just a curious cat.” the voice said. “do you call everyone with stupid but curious questions like this?” you laughed to yourself , opening your freezer to grab a popsicle. “only the pretty ones.” you smiled , opening the popsicle. “how do you know what i look like?” putting the icy treat into your mouth. “doesn't really matter how i know , just know i know.” he said. “now answer the question.”

“is this the part where i'm supposed to say some crappy 80’s movie that no one has ever heard of?” you scoffed. “well it's not , it the shinning.” you said. “did that answer your question? goodbye now.” you were about to hang up , when he stopped you. “you really are so pretty princess , especially sucking on that popsicle like that.” he chuckled , as you slowly removed it from your mouth. “no i bet you'd look even prettier gutted like a fish.”

“that's the look i was looking for baby.” he said. “fear.” throwing the popsicle into the sink , you walked over to the window , looking outside it.. “wh-who is this?” you asked. “an admirer of pretty things and so far you're the prettiest.” reaching up to close the curtain. “i wouldn't do that if i were you.” he said , you put your hands down. “good girl , now back away.”

“i'll phone the police.” you said , “you won't get away with this.” he laughed once more. “i’ve gotten away with it the last three times, haven't i?” thinking about it for a second. “you're that killer from tv.” he let out a fake gasp. “bingo baby , you're a smart girl aren't you.” he said. “now i know you won't call the police , because you know by time the get there , you'll be dead and i'll be long gone.”

you ran over to your security system, which was armed. “that would be smart , but it doesn't reassure anything will it? i may already be in your house.” you froze in your spot. “i might've been here the entire time.”

“don't hang up now princess , this is just getting good.” not knowing if this was some sick prank or not , you ran around the house making sure all the windows were locked. “i do like watching you run around in those little shorts , keep going you may draw me out princess.” you cursed. “shut up.” you shouted. “is that anyway to talk to me?” you ran back to the kitchen , grabbing a knife — but they were all gone. “what the fuck.”

“i’m not dumb baby, now stop running around before you tire yourself out before i even make you beg for your life.” he said so nonchalantly. “wh-where are you?” you asked. “answer me.” he sighed. “come find me.” he said. “maybe i'm in the place where you clean your pretty body , your body wash smells nice.”

you slowly made your way up the steps ; the bathroom on the left right as you go up , turning the small corner — the bathroom door was wide open , no one was inside. “i did say maybe princess , i could very well be down downstairs , or in your bedroom.” it was silent for a second and you were about to step down the steps , when a arm wrapped around you , a cold blade pressed against your neck. “or i could be behind you.” you voice whispered in your ear.

you tried to break away , but he pressed the knife deeper into your neck. “no don't do that, baby , unless you want me to slit your throat.” you stopped fighting , he laughed. “good girl , you listen well.” he said. “pl-please.” you begged , he dragged the knife across your cheek. “look at you begging already.” tapped the blade on your cheek. “trust me baby , you'll know what begging is when i’m through with you.”

he dragged you back to your bedroom , kicking the door open , throwing you on to the bed , knife still in his hand , now you could see him — well his masked covered face dried blood still on from his previous killings , black cover up. “you don't look frightened, baby.” he said. “you almost look like you're enjoying this.” he tilted his head to the side. “you are.”

you tried to scoot away on the bed , but he grabbed you ankles , pulling you back towards him. “getting wet for a killer princess , now that's a new low.” he said , spreading your legs open. “tiny shorts , i can see the mess you made , you aren't wearing any panties.” you whimpered. “whimpering like a slut.” he let your legs go , “lay down on your stomach , facing me.” knife in his hand waiting for you to obey him. “good slut.” he took the black cloak off , he was only sporting a pair of sweats , his bare torso showing , a bulge prominent in his sweats , making your mouth water.

“look up at.” he dragged the knife down your cheek , under your chin , forcing you to look at him. “so desperate for a cock in your mouth , you're drooling baby.” he let out a dry laugh, removing the knife from your face , pulling his sweats down , along with his underwear , his cock slapping against his abdomen. “go on touch it baby.” you grabbed the base of his cock , kissing his mushroom tip , red and leaking with pre-cum. “wrap those pretty little lips around my dick and maybe i won't kill you.”

opening your mouth allowing him inside , he moaned through the mask. “fuck , im gonna fuck your face.” he gathered all your hair into a ponytail , to keep you still. “fuck.” the masked man rutted his hips , forcing his cock to the back of your throat. “sh-shit thats it , take my fucking cock slut.” the knife hanging in his hand , so easy for you to grab. “fuck , yo-you might want to think twice about that baby , im way faster and it would be so easy to jam this into your head , just keep sucking like the good whore you are.”

he fucked your throat more rougher , you moaned around his cock. “there we go , choke on my dick , fuck gonna fill your mouth with my cum.” he gripped your hair , shoving his cock into your mouth roughly snapping his hips against your before cumming into your mouth. “fuck.”

pulling you off his still hard cock , you let out a string of coughs and gasps. “good girl.” he slapped your cheek softly. “i'm done though.” climbing on the bed , dragging you in the position he wanted. “let's see what's under here.” he dragged the knife up your torso , dragging his knife down , cutting the thin fabric of your tank top. “no bra , just as i thought.” dragging the blade down your naked body , stopping at your waist , pressing down. “ow.” you whimpered , he waved the knife in your face. “see how easy that was for me to hurt you , and here you are ready for me to stuff my cock inside that needy pussy of yours.”

yanking your shorts down , leaving you fully naked and at his disposal. “th-the mask.” you stuttered. “no baby that stays on , seems like you like it anyway.” he slapped your cunt. “seeing as you're dripping all over your sheets , is it the blood on it?” he dragged his length , his tip grazing your clit. “does it turn you on all the people i killed?”

you moaned , he laughed. “i guess that's what it is , you're fucking sick princess.” he let out a groan as he pushed his cock inside you. “getting wet for a killer , you were practically ready for my cock.” he held your leg around his waist as he began to pound into you. “i could kill you right now.” his knife was pressed against your neck again , you moaned. “fu-fuck , that turns you on , doesn't , your pussy tightened hearing that.” he laughed. “fucking slut , you're gonna cum aren't you.”

he pulled out of you , flipping you on your stomach , slamming back inside you. you screamed as he pounded into your cunt. you felt his blade pressing against your bum. “should i carve my name right here?”

you moaned. “pl-please , please.” he groaned. “sh-shit , i told you you'd be begging for me , come on.” he slapped your ass. “beg for me , beg for me to let you cum.”

“fuck! , please let me cum , please.” you begged , tears streaming down your face. “fu-fuck , fuck cum , cum all over my cock.” he growled , you let out a moan , legs shaking as you came. “n-no more.” holding you down by your waist , chasing his orgasm , you didn't even realize him , yanking the mask off , throwing it to the floor. “fuck , gonna cum.” he growled , a string of curse words flowing from his mouth as he came inside you. “ shit , that's it, take my cum.”

his cock softened inside you; he slowly pulled out , your body falling flat on the bed , he grabbed the knife before you fell on it. “careful baby , lord knows what i would do if seriously got hurt.” he sat the knife on the bedside table. “i'd go crazy baby.” he flipped you around , you smirked.

“crazy like killing three people?” he smirked. “crazy like killing a shit ton of people.” he kissed your lips. “but you like that don't you?” he said. “if you didn't you wouldn't be asking me to wear the very mask i use while fucking you?” he hummed , “the same knife as well?” he questioned , a crazy smirk on his face , you scoffed. “you're crazy yang jeongin.”

“i know.”

©LUVYENI

[starkeysprincess]

Blackmail

pairing: dark!rafe Cameron x reader word count: 1.4k warnings: sexting/video call sex, gaslighting, blackmailing, revenge porn, manipulation

a/n: this was a request from an anon summary: Rafe Cameron talks you into putting on a little show for him over a Facetime call, little did you know that you would regret your decision.

You flopped down onto your bed, laying on your stomach when your phone started to continuously buzz as an incoming Facetime call rang through. Before you can even see who was trying to Facetime you, you receive a text from a man you’ve been talking to for a little over a month. the man in question being none other than Rafe Cameron.

When you opened the text, you couldn't help but smile when you were met with a message that read, "Facetime me, princess, wanna see that pretty little face". Your thumb moves across the screen and you click the 'join' button, to which, you're immediately met with the sight of his handsome face, "There she is" he grins.

"Missed me already?" you teased, earning a small chuckle from him, "Always do, princess". You playfully rolled your eyes at his response as you sat up before laying back against your pillows, "You saw me like two days ago". Rafe shrugged, "So? doesn't mean that I don't miss the sight of your pretty face".

"Now you're just being a sweet talker" you snort, laying further back against your pillows, not realizing the new angle gave him a delicious view of your tits and the way your hardened nipples were pressed against the cloth of your tank top. A small smirk forms on his lips, "I'd rather be a sweet talker than a tease".

Your eyebrows furrow, "A tease? How am I being a tease?", your question only resulted in his smirk growing wider. You notice how his eyes flicker down and away from your face, "Well, you're givin' me a good view of those pretty tits and I can see how hard your nipples are".

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you're quick to readjust the angle of your phone but you stop when you hear his husky voice, "Nah, don't hide them from me, princess.".

"They look too fuckin' good for you to be hidin' them. Got me all hard and shit” Rafe confesses, pausing for a second until an idea popped into his head, “Matter-of-fact, why don't you put on a little show f'me?" he suggested. He can't help but grin when he notices how you look away from your phone's camera, "Gettin' all shy on me now?". 

“I’m just not sure if it’s a good idea” you muttered, “Why not? We’ve been talkin’ for about a month now, even gone out together a few times” he pointed out. He noticed you were still looking away from the camera, “Hey, look at me”. You turned your head, looking back at him through the call, “It’s just some harmless fun, s’all”.You stay silent, receiving a faux pout from him, “‘You don’t trust me or somethin’?”. You chew your lip nervously, still hesitant about putting on a show for him. 

He notices your hesitation, “You can trust me, princess. I promise this is for my eyes only, you know I don’t like sharing. The fuck would I share what’s mine with anyone else, huh? Your pretty little body is only meant to be seen by my eyes, no one else’s.”. 

“C’mon baby, give daddy a show, show him what’s his”. 

That’s all you needed to hear from him, the promises that he wouldn’t dare to show anyone because you were his and only his. “Okay,” you nodded, earning a grin from him, “Good girl. Why don’t you start by showin’ me those pretty tits of yours, hm?”. 

You hold your phone with one hand while your other reaches for the hem of your tank top. You slowly pull it up your waist, hesitating for a second before pulling it up further, revealing your bare tits. He licks his lips, letting out a low groan, “Fuck, baby. Lemme see you play with ‘em”. Your hand moves to cup your breast, squeezing it before you capture your nipple between your thumb and forefinger, pinching it before moving to the other. 

His eyes are glued to your tits, “Squeeze them together and spit on them for me, baby”. You do as he says, squeezing the plump flesh together, gathering spit in your mouth before letting it dribble down. He watches as your spit lands on the top of your skin before it slowly drips down between the valley of your breasts. His hand moves to palm his hard cock through his pants, “Shit…thinkin’ about how pretty they’d look covered in my load instead”. 

You can’t see what he’s doing but based on his groans, you have an idea of what he was doing while he watched you. “Alright, baby, flip the camera and remove your shorts” he instructs, to which you listen as you press the ‘flip’ button on your phone. Your hand slowly pushes the waistband of your shorts down your hips until you are left in just your panties. His voice is gruff as he speaks, “Atta girl, slowly remove your panties f’me. Need to see that pretty little pussy”. 

Your hand hooks into the elastic band of your panties, lifting your hips up as you slowly pull them down before tossing them to the side. You prop your legs up, keeping your feet flat on your mattress before spreading your legs.

“Shit…prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen” he groans, “Do daddy a favor and play with yourself. I need to see your wet cunt stuffed with your fingers”.

His words caused your breath to hitch in your throat and you can feel your clit starting to throb with need. Rafe sat up against the pillows of his headboard as he watched your hand slipping between your thighs, rubbing circles against your clit with your nimble fingers.

“That’s it…gonna show me your fingers stretchin’ that tight little cunt?” he breathes heavily, his hand moving up and down his length faster. A small gasp escapes you as you push two of your fingers into your sopping wet hole. 

Your slick coats your fingers, allowing you to pump your fingers in and out. Rafe continues to watch, his thumb pressing against the flushed tip of his cock, spreading his precum as his fist moves up and down his length. 

You let out a soft mewl, grinding your hips down against your fingers the moment you curl them. “You can barely take two of your own fingers. Shit, baby, you think you’d be able to take daddy’s big, thick cock?”. 

“I-I’m close” you stammered, feeling your walls clench around your fingers. His ears perk up at your words, “Flip the camera back around, I wanna know what your face will look like when you’re cumming all on my cock”.

You quickly flip the camera, your face casting onto his screen. He watches as your eyes flutter shut and your lips part, crying out as you come all over your fingers.Your chest rises and falls as you come down from your orgasm, your eyes remaining closed. 

What you failed to realize that night was from the moment you removed your top, Rafe had been screen recording the entire interaction. Something you didn’t find out about until a few days later when you were scrolling through Twitter and the video appeared on your feed. 

The video was clearly cropped to avoid showing your face and you knew this was all Rafe’s doing. You weren’t thinking straight when you grabbed your car keys and made your way to Tanneyhill, pulling right into the Cameron’s property before storming up towards their front door. 

Just as you were about to bang on the door, the door opens, revealing Rafe, who wore a smug look on his face. “Was just thinkin’ about you” he grinned. “Take it down” you demanded, making him shrug in faux confusion, “Take what down?”.

You give him a look, “Oh, that video” he nods, “Yeah, I can’t do that” he tsks. “Rafe, I’m being serious. Please, just take it down” you plead with him. 

“What are you so worried about? At least your face isn’t showin’, right?” he points out, “But could you imagine if your face was shown?”.

“It’d be a real shame if someone were to post the uncropped version, ya know” he licked his lips, “Cause then everyone would know what a whore you are”.

Your eyes avert his gaze, “You think anyone would want you after they see that shit?” he lets out a throaty laugh, “I’m the only one who wants you. I can even prove it to you”.He grabs your chin, making you look up at him, “I meant what I said, I wouldn’t share what’s fuckin’ mine unless I have to teach you a lesson. So if I were you, I’d be a good girl and listen, yeah?”.

rafe cameron m.list taglist

tagging: @oceandriveab / @babygorewhore / @xxbimbobunnyxx / @drudyslut / @sturnioloshacker / @lilacheavenn / @starkeyisthelastname / @rafesthroatbaby / @rafescurtainbangz / @espressomunson / @ihe4rttwd / @rafecameroninterlude / @rafeinterlude / @redhead1180 / @nemesyaaa / @hallecarey1 / @heartsforvin / @eddieslut69 / @eternalbuckley / @kisses4angel / @hyperfixationgirl / @emilysuperswag / @flvredcas / @starkeysheart / @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles / @amandabbbbb / @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account / @spid6y / @peterpan-neverfails / @zyafics / @chimindity / @rowans-posts / @native2princess / @crvptidgf / @rylie-m / @maiiuelle / @rafesfuckdoll / @shawtycoreee / @fae-of-prey / @rafeyswrd

[luveline]

𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐠𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐝 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

when an unknown intruder breaks into your apartment, you call hotch. he races to make it to you in time. requested here. fem!reader, 3.7k

cw home invasion, assault, attempted sexual assault, reader is badly hurt/held at gunpoint, please read with care for the content warnings above

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Hotch?" you whisper into the phone, your voice barely audible. 

"Who is this?" 

Hotch doesn't always look at who's calling at night, he just answers. Bad habit. You curl in on yourself where you're on your knees in the closet, trying not to wheeze breathlessly down the receiver. "Hotch, it's me. I need you to come and help me." 

"What's wrong?" He doesn't ask why you're whispering. "Are you at home?" 

"There's someone in my apartment." 

"You're sure?" 

You shift backwards into the embrace of your hanging coats and dresses. It feels as though tens of hands are petting your shoulders, a shiver racing along your spine as a floorboard creaks somewhere in your kitchen. 

"I heard them open my door. I don't have my taser, I…" You stop talking when you hear more movement, terrified you'll be discovered. Regret clings to you. How many times has Morgan offered to teach you self defence personally? "I don't know how they got inside."

It doesn't take more than that for Hotch to click into work mode. "Stay on the phone with me. Don't talk. I'm going to put you on hold to call Morgan. I will be ten seconds at most. Don't panic. Don't hang up. If you think you can leave without being seen or heard, leave, but if you can't, don't show him where you are." 

The invader's footsteps track to the bedroom. You know at once that your tired mind isn't hallucinating a bad scenario to keep you up —this is real. 

You had the hindsight to close your laptop and push it under the bed along with your go-bag, a rucksack full of clothes that you take on cases in different states as part of the BAU. You'd made a quick assessment —your job more than prepared you for this— based on the little information you had. Either the invader knows nothing about you and has assumed you'd be home, or they watch you enough to think you'd be elsewhere. If they think you're here, you're in danger of being assaulted, kidnapped, or murdered. If they think you're away, you're in danger of being robbed. One scenario is a thousand times more preferable than the other. 

You can't help but think of the horrible things you've seen. You know intimately what kind of damage one person can do to someone at their mercy. 

The hold sound is a quiet droning that freaks you out. If you can hear it, the intruder might be able to, too. Like the low hum of the fridge at night or the bumping of the dyer. 

You hang up the phone. 

"I know you're here." 

Your pulse flies through the roof. It pounds so hard you can feel it everywhere, the tip of your nose, your eyelashes. You look through the dark of your closet and panic in the fullest definition of the word. Your heart can't sustain this for long. 

You failed to think of a third possibility. The intruder watches you enough to know you're home. The BAU has a lot of enemies. Anyone could be waiting for you on the other side of the door.

"Come out and I'll be kind," the intruder sing-songs.

You type out a text with shaking hands, your message nearly illegible. 

They knowa 8m hjome. Cant talkk dontcall me

Thirty seconds elapse. A reply comes through. You smother the chirp with your chest. It sounds loud as a shot in the relative quiet. 

Police dispatch 5mins. I'm 10mins. Morgan 12. I will be there as soon as I can. Protect yourself 

That's easy for him to say. You drop your phone in defeat but scramble to pick it up again when you realise it's your best weapon. Or… You crawl to the opposite end of the closet to your shoe rack and slide the shoes apart with honey slow movements, your breath coming in quick, too-loud pants. You never expected to feel this way, you thought you'd know exactly what to do, how to react, but this feels outside of reality. 

You brace the long heel of a shoe between your fingers. Your hand is a vice. 

In your bedroom, the intruder goads you. "I know you're home, Y/N. There's only so many places for me to look, you know? But if you make me check each one, I'll be unhappy when I find you." 

What the fuck? you think. Breaking apart the fear like a knife is anger, a new shot of adrenaline. Who is this guy? You want to spring from the closet and show him how unhappy you are, but your chances of survival improve the longer you can hide. If he has a gun, that's it. You could be dead in the next two minutes. No amount of anger would save you. 

You could be dead in the next two minutes. 

thank you dpr everything, for being my friend aaron, you text. You know how embarrassing it will be to have said goodbye if nothing bad happens to you, but you also know how haunted Hotch will be if he can't get to you in time. You aren't foolish enough to unravel your feelings for him over text, but you're sentimental enough to think they'd matter to him. He'd want to know. 

If things go bad please knoeew that I loved my life and my work and you and the tram more than anything

After a moment, you add, If things don't go bad please nevrr mentiom this 

Footsteps at the closet door. A pause that feels gargantuan, the silence so heavy it threatens to snap the floorboards beneath your knees. 

"Found you." 

You leap up and throw yourself at the closet door as hard as you can, gasping when it swings on the hinges and clips your opposition in the leg. You don't think, you don't look at his face, you simply drive the point of your shoe into his collar. 

He gasps. Something hard and rigid whips upward, your neck snapping to one side as the skin of your cheek splits, gunmetal glancing off of bone. You drop down onto your ass, half out of necessity and half to get away from the pain. You can't outrun it, nor can you escape the forthcoming assault, grunting in shock as the bottom of the gun comes down atop your head. It was likely meant to incapacitate you, but all it does is hurt. 

You flip onto your front, stagger onto your hands and knees, and launch yourself up through the bedroom doorway. You only have to get away. 

He sweeps your legs from under you barely ten feet down the hall. 

You fall. Your knees hit the hallway slats and your face follows, the nerve endings in your teeth ringing one by one and your eyes tearing up as your nose makes a huge thwacking sound. Gasping, you rush to cover your face though the damage is done. Your gasp turns to a sob, hands quickly wetted by blood. 

"Stupid bitch," he hisses. 

You crawl into the kitchen. He steps on the back of your thigh. 

"I have a G43 pointed straight at the back of your fucking head."

"Good for you?" you say, eyes squeezed closed. 

You whimper as he grinds his foot into your leg. 

"Don't think I won't use it when I'm done with you." 

You shake your head from side to side. That can't be what he's here for.

You should ask him what he wants, or threaten him with the approaching police sirens. You should've tried to climb out of your fire escape. You should've set the door alarm as soon as you came home, but you're just so fucking tired lately you must've forgot. Everything feels like a chore. Right now, you're exhausted. 

"What are you going to do?" he asks you. 

You won't negotiate. You don't answer.

Forceful, no time to protect yourself, he kicks you in the side of the face. It hurts worse than the fall, that shattering pain like a firework under your skin. You struggle to keep your mouth shut, hoping that your whining cry is less audible to him than it is to you, scrambling backward toward the cabinets. You're defeated. Maybe you deserve it, for it to happen so easily. Three minutes and you're down. 

"I asked you what are you going to do, Agent?" 

"What am I supposed to say?" you ask. Even to your own ears, you sound pathetic. 

"Whatever I want you to. Now get up, honey." You cringe. "Unless you want to stay on the floor like a dog?" 

"Don't call me that," you say, wincing at the grinding sensation of your jaw. 

"What, a dog? Or… honey?" His tone is smug. "I thought you'd like that. It's what your boss calls you, isn't it? Late at night when he drops you off. Not strictly professional." 

You groan and turn onto your side. The police sirens are getting close. You live in a busy place near a main road, the sirens could be for anybody, but you need them to be for you.

"Get up, honey. You can pretend I'm him, if you like. I'll make it easy on you. I can be nice." 

You deliberate. Do as he says, or risk further agitation. Do what he says. Live to see the end of the night. 

Or drag it out. Give Hotch enough time to get here. 

"You'll pretend to be him?" you ask, sniffing. You can't tell if you're crying or there's blood on your face. 

"Aw. To begin with, sure." 

You sit up. For the first time, you look your attacker in the face. It's difficult to tear your eyes from the barrel, but you do. He has a cruel face, as tall and formidable as Hotch is but with none of his lightness. You put on your softest expression, gazing at him through tears. When you speak, the fear is real, even if you're attempting a facade. "You'll be gentle?" 

"No. You think he'd be gentle? Agent Hotchner?" His lip curls in disgust.

"I don't know," you mumble, looking down at the floor. "You said you'd be nice." 

"We both know you don't like nice." 

"I do," you say, finding your footing in the charade, the sorry victim, whatever he needs you to be for now. You hate giving him anything, but you know in the moment that you'll do what you need to do to save yourself from injury. "I haven't… I haven't done stuff in a long time, I can't just rush into things." 

The gun makes a quiet clicking sound as he points it with more fervour. "Like I believe that. You're probably fucking Hotchner on the side." 

There, that jealousy. He's been watching you, he knows where you live, what you want, and he's still convinced that you're fucking Hotch. It's not logical.

You cling to the threads, trying to pull apart his composure. You'd assumed him an anger-excitation rapist, unafraid to hurt you as he already has, but now you're thinking something else. 

"You think I'm sleeping with my boss? Why?" 

"Besides your constant need to be touching him? It's disgusting, you throw yourself at someone who doesn't want you. You're pathetic. I can make you better." 

You see movement in the corner of your vision. Dark hair, a stony expression. Hotch stands at the precipice of the kitchen in a bulletproof vest, a finger to his lips. Sh. 

Your relief knocks a breath out of you. The invader takes it for pain at being read. 

"Look," he says, softer. Not genuine softness, but practised. As soon as you give in, he'll drop it. You're both acting for one another, but only one of you is a profiler. "You'll forget all about Agent Hotchner once we're done. So just get up." 

You hold out your hand. His eyes light up with malice as he leans down to take it, his gun finally aimed away from your face. 

Hotch moves in. 

"Drop the weapon." 

Your attacker whirls. Hotch doesn't hesitate. Front sight, controlled trigger press, follow through. A bang like a clap of thunder fills the room. 

You flinch down into yourself. Everything goes a little white for a while, people running into the room, a gun skittling across your kitchen tile. Your ears ring from the bang of two bullets and you're sure you've been hit, you're hurting so much, but hands squeeze under your arms to tell you otherwise. 

"You're okay," Hotch says, knee against your thigh, face ducked down to meet your eyes. "Hey, can you hear me?" 

You shake your head. You can hear him, but you're far from okay. Hotch bites commands over his shoulder, holding your waist in his hands like he's worried you'll slip out of them. Tight. Too tight. You suck in as big a breath as you can manage and choke on it, coughing, the wild sting of your wounds a ringer. 

"You did so well," he says as he catalogues your injuries, his frown deepening. He tilts your head up to the light. 

"I knew you were on your way," you deflect.

"You were talking him down." 

"No, I was surrendering." 

"You didn't give in until you saw me. You weren't surrendering." 

"But I would have," you whisper, closing your eyes.

"Doing what you need to to survive isn't easy. But you do it." 

You hang your head. 

— 

Hotch winces at the sound of your skin being sewn closed. Morgan sits beside you in the back of the ambulance holding your hand, your fingers twitching between his with every tug. They dosed you and applied a general anaesthesia, but the pain is pervasive. His eyes keep moving back to your hand in Morgan's. He isn't jealous —he's annoyed with himself. Hotch should be the one holding your hand.

He should've hugged you. The absence of it feels awkward between you, though he's positive that that's the last thing you're thinking of right now.

"Will you have to set her nose?" Morgan asks. 

The paramedic shakes his head. "Not broken. Just very badly bruised. Even the bone." 

"That doesn't need a cast?" 

Hotch should hold your hand, should hug you, should be organising the scene. Should, should, should. The only thing he's managed to do since he incapacitated your stranger is watch you for signs of life. 

You're despondent. In shock, no doubt. You let your friends pass you from place to place with little more than pained sighs for input.

JJ does an excellent job of surveying the goings on, while Rossi and Reid take care of some of the bigger questions: who is this guy, what did he want, and how did it come to happen? 

What did he want? Hotch can guess. Rage collects like the heart of a furnace, a molten cup of steel in his throat as what he heard you say plays over and over in his head. 

You'll be gentle? 

No. You think he'd be gentle? Agent Hotchner?

He'll never forget the way you sounded asking that question. Terrified, begging for a scrap of mercy. 

Emily approaches from behind. "We have a name." Hotch tips his head to show he's listening. "Paulo Danvers. He was part of a crew that installed her security parameters a few months ago. He was vetted. This shouldn't have happened." 

"No, it shouldn't have." Hotch lowers his tone, "She said she wasn't sure she set the lock." 

"It wouldn't have mattered. He disengaged it from the outside." Emily takes a few steps closer to the ambulance. "Hey. Morgan taking care of you?" 

"Don't I always?" Morgan asks, clapping your arm gently. 

You don't answer. 

"What, you're not talking to me?" Emily asks. She's not mad, the opposite. Concern lines her eyes, thin brows pinching together at the starts, though she does her best to smile through it. 

"I don't feel well," you say quietly. 

"Yeah? You're not squeamish, are you?" 

"Don't think so." 

"It's shock," says the paramedic. 

"What's your pain like?" Hotch asks. He's the only person you'll give a straight answer to. "Bad?" 

"Yeah." Your hand is lax in Morgan's. 

"I can give you slow release tramadol to last the night or codeine pretty much immediately. It's up to you. And I'm really not comfortable with releasing you without next of kin. Do you have family in the area?" 

You shake your head. "It's just Hotch. Agent Hotchner," you correct yourself, nodding at him.

"You're her partner?" the paramedic asks. He can sense the disapproval. 

"Her boss." 

"Not her partner?" 

"He's my closest friend," you say. 

He's never heard you say that before, but it's true. 

"I wish you were my boss," the paramedic jokes, turning back to her supplies as she peels off her gloves. "Maybe I'd get better sick pay." 

You're given slow release tramadol and officially pronounced to be on the mend. If he didn't have an FBI badge, you'd be spending the night on a ward. He'd prefer if you did, but you clearly don't want to be somewhere alone right now, and he just wants to give you what you want after having your choices held over your head.  

He's not offended when Emily asks if you'd prefer to stay with her. It's harrowing what might have happened to you had you not heard the initial break in, and the perpetrator would've been a man like Hotch. Tall, white, dark-haired. He wouldn't blame you for needing space from him to feel safe tonight, but he's relieved when you turn her down. 

"You don't have to act like something happened to me," you say.

Hotch clicks down the locks of his car and turns on the overhead light. You squirm in the passenger seat, looking wrecked. Your chin is split, your nose a dark purple mess cut by white splint. You have a cut on your cheek and another just above your eye. 

"You don't think something happened?" he asks, hands on his legs. He can tell you wish he would start the car and take you home without pressing. 

"No, I know, I look awful, but he didn't do anything to me." Why is it so hard to say what it could have been? "You don't have to act like I'm gonna wig if you touch me." 

"You won't mind if I hug you?" he asks. 

"No. No, I want you to." 

It's thankfully a short gap to cover as Hotch leans over the console. He's careful of your face and still you mumble a tired, "Ouch," in his ear.

He rubs your back, slow and soft. "You okay?" he asks. 

You don't answer for a while. It doesn't matter, Hotch'll sit here in his parked car for hours if you want him to, hands on your hunched back. Your face hides away. He can feel and hear your distress building, and he wants you to cry if you need to, but it'll hurt.

"Sh," he hushes you gently, "it's okay." 

"I'm fine." You sound welled up. 

"Someone broke into your home and held you at gunpoint. You don't have to be fine." 

"Yeah, I do. It's my job." 

"No, that's not your job," he says, closing his eyes. "This has nothing to do with your job. This is about something bad happening to you. Don't put walls up now. It won't work, it never does." 

He tries to back away in case you're overwhelmed.

"Wait," you say, your panic like a cough. 

"I'm not going anywhere," he says. 

You sniffle, nodding into his chest. Hotch has comforted a hundred victims of violent assault. He's held the faces of women he didn't know hoping to give them something solid to lean on. But it's different with you, because you and Hotch aren't simply friends. There's a deeper vein of affection, and tonight's event is a jagged slash against it, bringing every unbidden feeling he has for you to the surface. He can't get how scared you sounded out of his head. He knows that feeling is still there. 

"How did you get here so fast?" you asked. 

"I took the side road. And went unavoidably fast." 

You make a small, small sound. He's known you for long enough to understand what it demarcates, unsurprised when the trembling of your shoulders turns to pained shaking. Hotch holds you delicately. He's done so much in his life, made a thousand and one mistakes, used a heavy hand when he could've been sweeter. He's determined to get this part right. 

"I'm with you now," he says. "I'm sorry I couldn't–" This is harder than he imagined. He presses on. "Couldn't protect you from the start." 

"You know why I called you?" you ask, your tone similarly soft. 

Hotch doesn't bother answering. The answer is unsaid, loudly heard. 

"I knew you'd come," you finish.

He puts a hand on your neck to encourage you into place, kissing the side of your head. Hotch will always come when you call. 

That night, you ask to sleep in his room. I'll sleep on the floor, just don't want to be alone. You're in ragtag clothes he'd scraped together for you, and after helping you wash the blood from your hair and face, you're even more impossible to say no to than usual, looking small in a way you haven't before. Hotch sets you up in bed next to him and wonders if he'll ever sleep next to someone he hasn't let down. 

You put that notion straight in your sleep. Hotch lays awake sick with the idea that he's failed you, and you, frowning, snoring, covered in cuts, curl into his side. You cling to his arm so hard he's certain you're awake at first, a bouquet of bruises painted across your cheek. 

Hotch pulls the blanket up over your shoulder, planting a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

He whispers your name, not sure what he'd say if you answered. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed♡ I haven't written long form (ish) for Hotch in a while so I'm nervous but I hope it's good!! let me know also if you'd like a second part cos usually I don't feel like there's much left to tell but for this one the could actually confess :o

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ FINDERS KEEPERS, LOSERS WEEPERS! ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: the user "gojoslittleslut" tries to make a move on your boyfriend, but she doesn't stand a chance

contents: fem!reader. it's not too serious, nobody gets angry/jealous (except the comments lol). if u haven't already read the other streamer!gojo works u probably should so u understand the dynamic between satoru and his commenters !

author's note: reader is actually a mature person who doesn't pick fights with random ppl on the internet and i think we should all be more like her ꨄ︎

satoru leans back in his chair, idly chatting with people who pop up in his comments after he finishes his last round of the co-op game. his viewers are eager to chat, and some even shoot money satoru's way to draw his attention. whenever someone donates money, he gives them a quick shoutout and has a small back-and-forth with them, and he does that for everyone.

that is, until a user with a questionable username donates to his stream.

gojoslittleslut has donated $100.00!

gojoslittleslut: notice me pls

"shit, a hundred dollars?" satoru says, raising his eyebrows in mild surprise. "thanks, gojoslittl— oh, fuck, what is that?"

you look up from your laptop and see the way your boyfriend's cheeks have gone bright red. satoru laughs a bit nervously, so you get up and walk over, making sure to stay out of sight of the camera. you sit on satoru's desk beside his computer and peer at his screen curiously.

gojoslittleslut: im ur number one fan~

satoru's eyes flicker to yours for a second before he looks back at his monitor. "ah, well, thanks for the donation!" he replies, completely ignoring the user's advances.

suguru-geto: he has a gf ...

gojoslittleslut: yeah

gojoslittleslut: me

you cover your mouth to suppress a giggle, scrunching up your nose at satoru to let him know that you really weren't taking it too seriously. after all, it's just some random person on the internet—they don't stand a chance with your boyfriend. 

satoru reaches over and takes your hand, twining his fingers with yours off-camera. he ignores the sudden burst of comments that litter the corner of his screen, instead watching you intently. in response, you roll your eyes playfully and blow him a kiss, snickering when satoru pretends to faint.

eventually, he turns back to his screen, cerulean eyes doing a quick once-over of his new comments.

toji-fushiguro: ill take his gf any day

inumaki: we know gtfo

gojoslittleslut: toji i get gojo and u take his girl. deal?

toji-fushiguro: bet

"alright guys, settle down," satoru huffs, rolling his eyes. "for the record, i still have a girlfriend and i don't plan on changing that anytime soon," he clarifies, addressing the current feud going on in his comments. 

satoru's a good streamer—he does his best to keep things cordial and lighthearted with his audience, but he also knows his limits. one of his limits involves people trying to separate you and him, his one true pairing (of course satoru's otp is his own relationship).

your boyfriend leans closer to the screen and scowls good-naturedly, holding up the hand still wrapped around yours. "this isn't gonna change, so don't even think about it!"

satoru says his goodbyes and then ends the stream, turning to you with a sigh. "how down bad do you have to be to name yourself 'gojo's little slut?'" he grumbles, clicking through his stream analytics and finding the user. he opens gojoslittleslut's profile and studies it for a moment before hovering his mouse over the block button.

he leans back in his chair and tilting his chin up at you. "she just gave me a hundred dollars, so i kinda feel bad about blocking her," satoru muses, tapping his foot on the floor. he looks up at where you still sit on his desk, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. "c'mere," he mumbles, slipping his hands around your waist and hoisting you into his lap with a soft grunt.

satoru rests his chin on your shoulder and nudges his face into your neck, breath tickling your skin. "you know that i'm all yours, right?"

"of course i do," you murmur, settling into his arms. he's warm and comfortable, like always. satoru smiles warmly and kisses the side of your face, letting his lips linger.

"good. 'cause no fan account's ever gonna change that."

[endless-ineffabilities]

Diet Pepsi (18+)

A modern Aemond Targaryen x girlfriend reader smutshot

When we drive in your car, I'm your baby So sweet Losing all my innocence in the backseat

a/n : how do I explain this? I suppose the song Diet Pepsi got stuck in my head, and when I watched the music video, the only male lead I could envision in that sorta situation is our Aemond/Ewan. So here ya go! Reading time... depends on what you get into 😉💋

masterlist

themes/warnings : pure smut, filthy actions and filthy language, complete disregard for sports car interiors, old money boyfriend Aemond x bratty internet starlet girlfriend reader, sticky surfaces, foggy windows, wayward fingers, sliding tongues, and YES YES YES

"What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?"

Your boyfriend glances at you from the corner of his eye, barely, his attention remaining on the road. But his veiny hand reaches over to squeeze your thigh, fully exposed beneath the scrap of pale pink fabric that you try to pass off as a miniskirt.

Mission accomplished. After only a few minutes of pretending to stew while looking out the window, he is quick to sense that something is amiss with his kitten.

"Nothing," you respond in the best downcast tone you can manage, fighting the urge to clench your thighs to trap his thick fingers in the warmth between.

"Come on now," he clicks his tongue, "don't play around."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You've barely looked at me since you got in the fucking car." Poor baby. You're getting to him, as planned.

Time to rile him up in a way that only you can. "Do you think Maris is pretty?"

He scoffs, "Don't start, kitten."

"So you do," you egg him on. "I knew it. You were looking at her tits earlier. I bet you loved it when that skank bent over in front of you. Gave you a good view."

"Kitten, please," his grip on your flesh tightens, trying to get you stop. "You're being ridiculous."

"And you didn't answer my question, Aemond," you snap back, grabbing his hand and prying it from your leg.

"Fuck's sake," he groans. He then rests both his hands on the steering wheel, at the standard 10 and 2, grasping onto it so roughly that the leather squeaks.

You called him Aemond. Not babe. Not handsome. You must be pissed, for some imagined reason, and he simply does not have the time.

Impatient, he goes off on a tirade, "You've asked me this shit before, babe, and my answer remains the same. I don't care about any other girl. You're the only one that I want, that I will ever want."

Licking your lips, and looking slyly at him behind your done-up eyelashes, you say, "You could've fooled me." He raises his brow at your childishness, muscles flexing under his tight white shirt as he makes a sharp turn. You continue, "I know what I saw. You want her, is that it? Is it because she's got status like you?"

"You have status," he corrects you, "The whole damn country practically knows your name."

"But it's not the same," you moan. "I didn't come from money. My blood isn't blue."

He sighs audibly, "We talked about this. None of that fucking matters, kitten. Especially not to me."

You cross your legs, leaning against the car door as if to inch away from him, your devilishly handsome silver-haired aristocratic boyfriend. The very one you're so keen on tormenting now. "You don't know how I feel."

But he does. You've long since lost track of the countless times you've been blindsided by an uncharacteristic wave of self-doubt. You, infamous for being one of the bubbliest and most outgoing personalities on the internet, your lifestyle guides and fashion spreads a mainstay on every social media platform.

But ever since you started dating Aemond, you can't help but feel unworthy sometimes. He is Aemond Targaryen after all, a glowing young heir to one of the most powerful families in the country, his lineage extending back to the great Valyrian empire.

Old money, as they say. That was his life, but before him, you thought old money was just some fashion trend that dominated your Pinterest boards.

You met at a charity gala for the Hightower Foundation. Unaware of who he was, he was simply a hot guy you set your sights on, and you managed to get his attention by accidentally spilling your espresso martini down his crisp tailored shirt.

Women were not usually that forward when approaching him, especially not those who ran in the same circles as him, like the Baratheon sisters or the Tyrell heiress. But you were different. You were simply, unabashedly yourself. Your biggest asset was you - your personality, your style, your genuine warmth that allows you to build connections with anyone in the industry - you didn't walk into a room with the snootiness and entitlement of a girl born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

The chemistry was instant, overriding any superficial issues that may arise from someone like him getting with someone like you. Which is why you snuck out of the gala together, and fucked each other senseless in the backseat of his car, sweaty and giggling and whispering sweet nothings like you were already long-time lovers back then.

As you are now, nearly two years later. Aemond's love for you has only grown a thousand fold, and he shows this every day.

The car idles at a stop sign. He reaches for your face and implores, "Kitten, look at me, please."

"No," you impetuously say, making him drop his hand.

"Baby, come on."

"Don't feel like it, Aemond."

The light turns green. The car zooms past houses and open fields. Shops and smaller, unknown places of business. They all come together in a blur. The tension is at an all-time high in the car, just as you intended.

He makes several maneuvers, and the scenery outside begins to look unfamiliar to you. The street you enter next is particularly quiet, almost empty, all the shops closed for the day or boarded up. It's likely on the outskirts of King's Landing, far from the Targaryen estate in its central area of Red Keep.

"You still gonna be a brat?" he asks lowly.

You smirk, "Don't call me a fucking brat."

"Have it your way, kitten," he says, and it sounds like a promise. The car pulls up to a vacant parking lot behind an old restaurant, the surrounding area covered by a thin tree line. There is no one, and nothing in sight.

He leans back, and takes a few deep breaths.

"You've been a bad girl, my kitten."

"Have I?" you bite your lip, no longer fighting the urge to clench your thighs. The miniskirt rides up higher, and his eyes become drawn to the sight, his cock hardening underneath his blue jeans.

He hums, leaning over and grabbing your jaw towards him with one hand, "Yeah, bringing shit up like that. Like I would ever look at anyone besides you."

"Wouldn't you?"

"Want me to fucking mention the time you actually flirted with the Stark boy in front of me?"

"I wasn't - "

"Shut up, kitten," he spits. "I'm not dumb."

His voice dips low, and you feel your cunny growing wet and slick. Gods, he is so hot like this. Assertive yet downright sensual. He only wants one thing, and you will surrender it to him in a heartbeat.

"What you gonna do 'bout it, handsome?" You lick your gloss-covered lips and you are caught off guard when he pushes his thumb inside and orders, "Suck."

You obey. His pupil significantly dilates in one eye, while the sapphire fixture in the other glints beautifully. He looks regal, and he's all yours.

"That's right," he breathes, his vision clouding over in lust as he feels the pad of your tongue, "fucking minx. Always so insolent, huh?"

"Mhmmm." When tears blur the corners of your eyes, he takes his hand and sucks right where you did. Then he pulls you in roughly, kissing you with everything in him, the lewdest grunts of pleasure escaping him when you push your tongue past his teeth.

"Come... come 'ere," he places you on top of himself, straddling him in the driver's seat, the lace of your underwear rubbing against his denim. "Gods, this fucking skirt." He pokes at it, lips curling. "You torture me, darlin'. Now you gotta make up for it."

You jut your bottom lip out, dragging your bright pink fingernails across his cheek. His mouth parts at the sight of his pretty little kitten practically begging for it.

"Is that so, handsome? Why don't you make me?"

He anchors his fingers in the thin bands of your underwear and in a sure and decisive flash of movement, he rips the material apart. He throws it over his shoulder, and it lands in the backseat, among the littered lollipop and bubblegum wrappers you leave behind. He loves it when you suck on that hard candy shell in front of him. It's partially the reason why your penchant for sweet treats has gotten worse.

Your pussy is exposed to the cool draft coming from the AC of his car, and it's a good and familiar sensation. He fondles your clit, little slow circles, making you whimper. He presses on, eager to unwrap his kitten like a piece of candy to be devoured. The zip of your miniscule skirt slides down, and your bare ass and cunny is revealed to him.

"Gods fucking damn, kitten," he rasps, then slowly buries three whole fingers into your slickness, spreading your folds, pumping in and out.

"Aghhhh, baby," erupts from your glossy mouth, breath hitching as he picks up the pace. In and out. Out and in.

His face appears almost sinister, clouded over in lust, his bottom lip trapped under bunny teeth, but then he whispers, "I love you, kitten. I love you so fucking much," and you see him as your Aemond. He's offering more than just his body - to you, he has already surrendered his heart and soul.

"I love you too, baby," you respond in as firm of a voice as you can manage, made even more difficult when he probes that sweet spot inside your sopping cunt.

You leak onto his fingers, droplets of your milky white substance beginning to pool in his palm.

"Ask me again," he snarls, shapely lips pulling back to reveal his sharp teeth.

"Wh-what?" you reply in a daze.

"That stupid question," he says. His pace doesn't slow; if he keeps up, you just might forget how to speak, save for incoherent noises that make his cock twitch.

"You'd rather be... b' with... a fancy heiress," you try, pausing when he pinches your hardened nipple over your crop top with his other hand. "Maris... Baratheon... or Floris... or - "

"Look at me, princess," he says, "You feel that? You feel me? There's your fucking answer."

"Not enough," you shake your head feebly, keeping up the ruse. Judging by the buldge he sports, he's into it too.

Smirking, he pulls his glistening fingers out of you, and helps you out of your crop top. He chucks the material somewhere, before ducking his head and nipping at the mounds of your breasts.

"Unnnghhh," you hear him, muffled by your flesh. He undoes your lace bra and sucks wildly. You cradle his head with both hands, keeping him pressed against your tits. His tongue flickers out to taste your skin, and he angles his face so that your eyes meet when he takes a nipple in his mouth.

"Shit, baby," you whimper, heating up all over from the sheer intimacy of it all.

His mouth lets you go with a resounding pop, and he tilts his head toward the backseat, hands gripping your hips to guide you. He follows suit, removing his white shirt in the process, as well as his jeans, shimmying them off his legs as he scrambles after you.

He smacks your ass with an open palm as it is raised in front of him in full view, the sharp sting of it only making you grow wetter.

You shuffle onto your hands and knees, looking back to see him already in position. His fine Valyrian steel chain dangles from his neck, the one thing still on his person. His boxers are also discarded, and his length is fully erect, slapping his stomach when he leans over to hastily cover your mouth with his. Your tongues battle for dominance, drool dripping down your chins. You feel a strain in your neck from twisting back to accommodate his kiss, but you don't care.

You feel it poking at your backside, feel him, his cock all slippery from hot precum dribbling down the sides.

He rocks back, hands digging into the soft flesh of your ass, keeping you in the prime position for him to take.

In a swift movement that nearly drives you insane, he twists downward until his face is level with your opening, and he buries his tongue in your soaking pussy. You know he likes it rough, so do you, and this is his way of getting you ready.

"Fuuckkk," you collapse forward, the side of your face colliding with the smooth leather seat. He twirls his tongue around, and you swear you can see stars.

You must have blacked out for a split second, delirious from the high only he can give you, because a moment later you feel his tip edging itself slowly into your cunt.

"Ready, baby?" he asks.

"Fuck me," is your strained plea.

His cock stretches you out, inch by inch, your slicked walls straining against his sheer size. A whining noise leaves you, music to Aemond's ears, and when he's fully sheathed, he exhales, "So pretty. Such a good little slut for me, kitten." That sends you over the edge.

You move forward slightly, then back again, your ass slamming right into his pelvis. He gets the message, smart boy that he is.

With an animalistic growl, he proceeds to frantically buck his hips into you, his huge cock just about splitting you open. He slaps your ass as he goes, making you tremble.

Each thrust sends shockwaves throughout your body, causing your eyes to roll back in your head. Your dripping cunt begins to feel that familiar ache, your lower belly spasming from his ceaseless thrusts. Your knees threaten to buckle, and if they do, you imagine that his firm throbbing shaft will be enough to keep you propped up.

"Aemond... baby... " your moans echo in the car, joined by his, "Yes... yes, kitten... so fucking good, taking me like this... pussy so sweet for me... "

The filthiest of words spill from the two of you like prayers from the damned, just begging to be answered. And seven hells, with the way Aemond makes you feel like you're floating amongst the skies, he just might be your salvation.

He does not relent, intent on rearranging your insides with how deep he buries his cock inside of you. You don't want him to stop. You never do.

You have to hold onto something to keep steady, to keep from utterly flopping down in a mindless haze. Your palms reach for the fogged up windows, and Aemond angles your bodies so that you're half-seated atop his thighs. He grabs hold of your breasts as leverage, squeezing them as your leaking cunt squeezes his cock.

The angle allows him to fill you better, and that heated coil unfurls in your belly, a signal that you are about to reach your peak.

He draws forward, pressing his mouth to the back of your neck, licking your sweat with reckless abandon.

"Baby," he moans, "I'm gonna cum... gonna fill you up... "

"Oh, yeah?" you answer in a high-pitched, wanton manner.

"Yeah," he breathes.

"You promise?"

He chuckles, and you feel the sound reverberating as your back is pressed to his chest.

"My sweet kitten," he purrs.

"I'm getting close, baby," you let him know, and he takes it as his cue to pound his cock inside faster. His lips are pressed to your ear, arms wrapped around your torso possessively.

He lets himself go, decorating your insides white with his Targaryen seed. You glance down and see it spilling out of your cunt, milky rivulets staining the once-pristine leather seat. His cock convulses in your pussy, waves of his release pulsing like fragmented aftershocks. It hits the right spot, bringing you to that little death, your walls contracting from the dizzying pleasure he gives you.

With that stupid and blissed-out smile on your face, you lean back, collapsing on top of him. You soon find yourselves curled together on the backseat, a mess of sweaty and satisfied limbs.

His silver hair is matted against his forehead, and you reach up and brush them away. He catches your hand and presses a loving kiss to the back of it.

He props his head up on one arm, as you draw lazy circles on the firm planes of his chest. You whisper sweet nothings to each other, as you had on the night you met.

"You should rile me up more often, you little brat," he smirks crookedly.

You roll your eyes, but peck his lips anyway with a cheeky smack, "Isn't that all I do, baby?"

"Sure, kitten," he says, "and I fucking love you for it."

"Oh, baby," you purr, and your wayward fingers reach down to stroke his half-erect cock. His brows raise in amusement, but it only takes several good pumps before his shaft is again taut from your touch. You whisper, "I love you too."

And so the second round begins.

Taglists (refer here to be added)

Vhagar - @gwaynehightowerswhore @kravitzwhore @litchifaerie @g-cf2020 @9431789 @noxytopy @fan-goddess @m00n5t0n3 @diannnnsss @nsr-15 @the-awkward-barbie @rockstwrsz @yellowstonebaby @urdeftonesgrrrl @eddieslut69 @callsigncrushx @starwarsdinosaur @qweq-6802 @tulips2715 @hotdismylife @joyismm @itseunaimonia @just-mj-or-not @crystal-siren @zaldrizzes @all-for-aemond @ajantanijhum @darylandbethfanforever9 @vhwyrm @purpleskiesandroses @technicallystrangereview @jjkysnk

Targaryen - @angel6776 @different-tale-student @binchissimo @teasweeter @raging-panda @rhaenys-nyra @gelacat0413 @simplymurdock @yariany02 @barnes70stark @stupid---person @lonan-hane @thescooponsof @donalesaa @rosey1981 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @wabi-sabi1090 @girl-lost-not-found

P.S. eagle-eyed readers can probably spot the nod to chemical override ;)

[bountycancelled]

OPLA characters reacting to a sweet, girly reader who turns out to be a a ruthless fighter

genre: headcanons, fem! reader, kinda suggestive??, idfk just read it bro

requested: nope, but reqs are open! pls, for the love of god, request for the opla♡

feat: zoro, sanji

a/n: reader's feminine but not female if that makes sense, only witting again because I'm obsessed with the one piece live action. also, this may be a little ooc, since I haven't watched the anime/read the manga, sorry about that! also, if you wanna be added to my perm taglist, pls feel free to ask!

☆ZORO☆

when you first joined the crew, zoro was immediately unsure of what exactly you brought to the table. I mean, they already had a swordsman, a sharp shooter, a navigator, a dumb cook and a captain/motivational speaker. so what were you doing here?

from luffy's explanation of you, he was aware that you were a good fighter, but he had never seen you in action.

the only things he had seen from you were stuffed animals laying around the ship, pastel outfits he could spot for miles, and bows that had been put in his hair while he slept.

he was tolerant of you at best, and straight up apathetic at worst, but finally, there came a time where someone tried picking a fight with you since you seemed like an easy target while you were walking with him and nami.

although he wasn't particularly fond of you (lies), he still felt the need to defend you as a crewmate, but the ass whooping you gave the stranger made him freeze in place.

there was blood splatter on your pretty face, deep red sploches of your cute clothes, and a look of pure hatred in your eyes. and you had never looked more beautiful in zoros eyes.

that was the first time zoro had ever smiled at you. sure, he had slightly smirked at your cuter tendencies, but in that moment he was truly smitten with you.

from that day, zoro wanted to train with you. what you lacked that he had in experience, you made up for in absolute cruelty when fighting. you were quick, agile and you weren't afraid to make zoro hurt, and he loved every second of it.

zoro would sometimes smile when he saw bruising on his body from his time training with you but catch himself and go stone faced immediately. no, he was not falling for you, absolutely not.

except he was, and the next time you showed up by his side with a slight limp, some tears in your cotton candy coloured clothes, blood all over you, and a sadistic smile on your face, he would tell you as much.

SANJI♡

sanji is unsurprisingly, enamoured by you the second you join the straw hats.

I'm talking, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, cheesy and constant compliments like "you're cuter than any of your stuffed animals, yn-swan~" and even brushing up on his baking skills to bake you aesthetically pleasing sweet treats that always put a smile on your face.

if I'm being completely honest, it doesn't bother him that he doesn't know exactly what your strengths are, you could be amazing at everything like barbie or you could literally not know night from day and he'd still admire you all the same.

one day, you're wearing bottoms that are on the shorter side not that sanji minds at all and you're out exploring the island you're at with him by your side, holding all your bags because in his words "angels don't do hard labour when he's around" when someone decides to hit on you.

you reject them politely, but when they make a less than appropriate comment about your outfit, you click your tongue and shake your head, readying yourself to hospitalise someone.

sanji's mood switches to one of being happy because he's around you to one of murderous intent the second this rando tries you, but you already have them wheezing on the floor with broken nose before sanji can even lift his leg off of the ground.

you're back to usual self, fixing the bow on your hair while complaining about how fucking hard it is to get blood stains off of your clothes, while sanji is thinking about how fucking hard he is

safe to say that this heartless, terrifying side of you makes sanji fall even harder and question whether or not he's a masochist.

he'll still insist on doing things like carrying you anywhere (most of your shoes you impractical as fuck, but style>functionality always) lifting things for you and treating you like a piece of fine china because that's exactly what you deserve, no matter how badass you are.

only difference is, now he'll never come to aid when it comes to kicking ass, because he enjoys seeing you take people to heaven and back more than anything.

he compliments now range from "omg you are the most adorable, lovable, doll-like angel I've ever seen" to "please punch me, step on me, make my nose bleed, choke me-" and he's now ten times more annoying about you than he was before, which no one thought was possible.

believe me when I say that images of you in frilly outfits with your eyes gleaming like diamonds eveytime you make someone bleed occupy 90% of his thoughts. (the other 10% is all things cooking, of course.)

[haruchi-slit]

JEALOUS, JEALOUS GIRL!

pairing: true form! sukuna x concubine! reader | synopsis: the king brings a girl and it just makes his favorite so jealous! | warnings: double penetration, sukuna 2pps, creampie (?), teasing, switch, lots of kissing, m receiving (blow job), biting (slight?), porn with plot (?), not proof read properly! chi-list

"I'm a jealous jealous jealous girl, if i can't have you baby, no one else in this world can."

you were trapped in this endless circles of boredom since the king left for a trip to China to meet its emperor, it's been months since he left and you missed him so much, you were left with uraume, they're fine to be with, but they're too busy to talk to you, too busy to make small talks. you were completely bored to death, until one day uraume happily announced that the king is coming back, "really he is?" you asked happily shaking uraume's shoulders. your endless circles of boredom will finally come to an end!

"yes, how many times would i have to repeat it for you?" uraume responds with a frown, removing your hands from them.

you were over the moon! you twirled around like you were a teenager getting her allowance

"the kinggg's finally baackk~" you hummed skipping towards your room.

evening rolls by faster than light, you heard the temples heavy doors creeping open, and the king's sorcerer murmuring "Sukunaa!" you yelp, running carelessly to the main entrance. you saw sukuna being escorted by the gaurds, sorceres and servants, you and uraume bowed your heads as soon as you saw him after passing the two of you, you looked up, with your eyes shining as bright as the northern star, smiling from ear to ear. until, you noticed a unfamiliar face, walking behind sukuna a woman who's about your height, brunette hair tickling down her shoulders, wearing a black and red kimono just like yours, but yours were adorned with gold roses and the red fabrics of your kimono were much more bolder than hers, your smile completely dropped as you saw sukuna's hand resting on her head, ruffling her hair, and she seems to love it, your eyebrows were quick to frown as you saw this gesture, you glared at sukuna and the girl with full of...jealousy. you knew that you weren't in the place to feel this, but still.

you learned that her name was qika, of course from uraume, they know everything about the lord's activities. qika is from China, she used to be the emperor's main whore, but the emperor gifted her to sukuna, because she is the only one who knows how to speak Japanese.

"it's pronounced as: i-ka" uraume says, carrying scrolls full of jujutsu in their hands, "anyways, why are you asking and aren't you supposed to be at the dinning room now?"

you rolled your eyes "I don't want to.." you clicked your tongue, "the lord's gonna be upset if you're-" "i do not care uraume" they raised a brow hearing you raise your voice, "are you jealous?" you rolled your eyes and walked out, striding straight to your bedroom, you didn't ate dinner that night you were too upset that the lord brought a concubine even though he could've just declined the offer.

"bullshit" you sighed softly laying in your bed, as you realized that the lord hasn't called you to get to his chambers. you let out a heavy, heavy breath as you rolled over to the other side of your bed, grabbing the soft pillow close to your chest hugging it tightly with a sour look in your face, when you were about to fall asleep, you heard lewd moans and squelchs from the other room, sukuna's room; your eyes shot open as soon as you heard it, 'fuckkk!', you could only thought to yourself as you sit up leaning on your bed's headboard, while you hear them fucking non-stop. "aaa my-my lord!" the woman yelps, you could only roll your eyes and do nothing about it,

you clicked your tongue; pulling your blanket on top of your body, then falling asleep eventually.

after that you were avoiding him the next day, depriving him even from your glance and presence always occupying your schedule with tons of other activities, you were lonely and fucking jealous, as he spends time with his "new favorite concubine", you could only clench your fist and frown your eyebrows, giving qika and sukuna dirty looks, sometimes even mocking qika for her forced voice while working with uraume "awh thaynk kyu my lowrd" you cursed under your breath, "did you said something?" uraume inquired "huh? no what did i say?" you respond with a defensive tone.

sukuna noticed that you were avoiding him. avoiding him in the hallways, dinning room, throne room literally every where, not batting a care for his presence. though, even if you were a brat, he let's you slide, you're still his favorite after all.

"let's see how long that brat's gonna take it. " he thought to himself. and boy oh boy he didn't expect to see you this fucking desperate. maybe he should make you jealous more often.

you're now on top of his lap, with his half naked body, his broad muscles flexing, as you stare at him intently, you just wanna smack that stupidly handsome smirk he has on his face, for fuck's sake you to do that immediately.

"trying to top me? hah...go on princess, I'd like to see you fail, yeah?" he chuckles leaning on the bed's headboard, as you stare at him with lust and desperation in your eyes, he laughed, "did you heard me and that girl yesterday, are you jealous?", he doesn't even know her name... "were you thinking of me while you were fucking her?" you spat back, grinding on his clothed shaft, he paused, in fact, he was thinking of you- , you glide the tips of your fingers on his markings tracing it gracefully you tilted your head to your left, "I'll take that as a yes. can she take you whole? can she grip your needy cock like i do?", you spoke. "cocky aren't you?" he grunts in respond while clenching his jaw, his lower set of hands creeped to your hips, squeezing it like it depends on his life, you continued to tease him, peppering his chest with sweet kisses, he threw his head back as your kisses travelled down to the mouth on his belly, you gave him a quick kiss as you proceed to his clothed cocks, you rubbed his cock slowly with his undergarment on, you held his clothed cocks on your tiny hands while locating the tip of his cocks, he lets out another grunt, placing one of his upper set of arms on your back as the other covered his face, he might not last long, letting you top him, but he loved seeing you on top of him with your alluring demeanor and dominant side it's just different, he threw his head back once more as you took one of his clothed cock into your mouth, as you circled the tip of the other cock with your thumb.

the king lets out heavy, silent grunts as you gave him an unbearable pleasure- to make it worst the fabric on his dick gave so much friction, enough for him to cum sooner, even though he tried his best to deny his climax, he failed miserably as he paints your pretty mouth with his thick cum, while his other cock spurted cum all over his mattress and yakuta, you snickred "what a mess" you glanced at sukuna with flushed face with his hand on top of his lips "bet she can't do that huh?" , his hands still lingering on your body, you smirked before untying your kimono, letting it pool down on the mattress, "you're such a fucking tease aren't you?" he grumbled, while you took his soaked yakuta off his body throwing it across the room, his cock is still hard, even after cumming, "f-fuck" he murmurs as you aligned his cock on your entrance, while you align his other cock on your ass, "you sure you can take all of me?" he let's out a whimpy chuckle, cupping your waist with his large hands, you didn't respond, you were too focused on proving him wrong and that you're better than qika. she was never better than you. you slowly put his cocks in you, your lips gapped as you take him whole, a string of saliva connecting your lips as you whimpered, your gummy walls swallowing him instantly as you collide your hips to his taking him full, from base to tip sukuna swore you almost made him whimper, you paused for a moment before moving your hips- you placed your hands on his chest as you bounced lightly on his cock, with every bounce sukuna tries his hardest to not let a single whimper out off his mouth, he bit his lips so hard it started to bleed, you watched his blood drip down to his chin, you sucked your lips between your teeth before licking sukuna's blood and latcing your lips to his, before letting out a giggle "ooo c'mon cursed king, don't hide those pretty moans, pleasee. for me?" you teased "s-shut up" he babbled as his hands support your hips from bouncing, you'd giggle on his grumped scowl while he throws his head back on the headboard, you could feel his pre-cum dripping from your pussy mixed with your arousal. you continued to bounce on his dick, you'd whimper every time his dick hits your g-spot you nuzzled on the crook of his neck bitting it, out of pleasure, while his cocks penetrate your tight holes...you can feel your climax brewing in your adomen, your bounce getting sloppier as your cunt drip uncontrollably, "hah-mm fuckk..!" you moan as you feel your climax creeping closer, sukuna's cocks throbs with every whimper that came out off your mouth. "fucking woman," sukuna growled, before pinning you down to the mattress "i should make you jealous more often, huh? "he adds putting you in a missionary before tucking your hair to the side so he could see your beautiful face, "you're so fuckin' gorgeous when your jealous, turns m-me on s-so damn much" sukuna grunts without missing a beat as he feels his climax near.

your gummy walls sucking him in with every thrust, your nails scratching his biceps and back, knuckles turning white as you grip the sheets of the mattress, while sukuna buries his cocks in you- "mfmmgh-" you whined before cumming all over his cocks-

"that's right, fucking cum on my cocks...h-hah-"

sukuna moans softly before nuzzling to the crevice of your boobs, snapping his hips to yours once more before reaching his climax, you could feel his cum oozing out off your pussy and ass, the both of you were catching breaths while sukuna's cocks is still intact, he does his final thrust fucking back the cum that oozed out off your cunt and ass, your toes curled while your eyes rolled to the depths of your skull, goodness...

"I'm getting rid of that girl, I'll get uraume to get rid of her... jealous brat."

a/n: idk lmaoo... Don't ask me why i named the other concubine "qika" i just want it to be different and unique haha, i kinda have a neutral feeling abt this cause whenever i proof read it, it sounds cringe and yuckie I'm not good at writing... anyways does anyone wants to be my anon/mutual?