#this is fat reader coded i think

[kechiwrites]

wake up; reader getting fucked from below by neighbour!Simon who keeps your hands pinned behind your back while he bullies the thickness of his cock inside you, just a little too deep. All too happy to let you drool on his shoulder as he drives into you again and again, watching the reflection of your ass bouncing heavy and fast over his lap on the black screen of your television. Scarred and tattooed arms sinking into your sides, anchoring you to him, implacable, insatiable. He was only supposed to pick-up a package mistakenly delivered to your front door, too heavy for you to bring it over yourself. Only supposed to have 'a cuppa, if you have it, pet.' Only supposed to take a kiss, soft, fleeting. Only supposed to 'touch it, over yer clothes, promise.' Only supposed to rub against the outside, slotting his ruddy, leaking tip between the already soaked lips of your pussy. Only supposed to pull out, come against the curve of your ass.

But Ghost can be neighbourly, he can go above and beyond. If it's for you.

[peanutalergy]

would you write something where Spencer finds reader's lost cat and brings it back to her then they keep in touch + they both develop a little crush on each other?

your writing is wonderful!! <3

-🪲

tags: fluff fluff fluff but there's making out (?) idk if that counts as anything; also lots of cursing lowkey; reader is lowk penelope garcia coded

w/c: 1.8k

a/n: tysm for the req that's an adorable idea unfortunately not such great execution from my part also I wrote this in like an hour I'm so exhausted I should go to sleep but whatever I also don't know if this what you meant anon I'm sorry if it's not 😭 yeah I hate this sorry idk what to say it sucks

MISSING CAT

orange, green eyed, really chubby cat, last seen at ~3:30pm on november 9th. he will answer to garfield or little fucker; most likely the latter, despite that not being his name. he's very clingy, he’ll probably come up to you and start rubbing on your leg like the little freak he is but he's actually just a baby who needs his mom (me) so please call this number if you find him.

reward: $10 and a kiss maybe if you’re nice enough

spencer chuckled when he reached the end of the text and saw the adorable picture of a ginger fat cat. he read over the number on the poster, making sure to keep it stored in a folder at the back of his head along with the image of garfield as he returned to his walk.

not even an hour later, when walking past a not-so-nice smelling trash can, he heard some loud purring coming from one of the boxes surrounding it.

if it were any other day, he would have ignored it, guessing it's just another stray cat, but he was still thinking about garfield and his seemingly interesting owner.

“garfield…?” spencer called out from afar. silence. he took a few steps closer, trying to peek over the box while keeping his distance so as to avoid getting jumped at and attacked. “little… fucker…?” he choked over the nickname.

immediately, the animal that had been in his mind since seeing his picture jumped out of the box, purring louder as he started rubbing on spencer’s legs. he chuckled despite being scared.

garfield wasn't nearly as well kept then as he was in the picture, due to the days he had been on the streets. still chubby, but dirty and with a few patches of dried blood in his fur. spencer tried to move away, seeing his pants getting smudged, but the cat just started following him.

spencer pulled out his phone and started dialing the number seen on the poster, still trying to avoid the animal. after a few rings, you picked up.

“hello?...”

“hi, is this garfield’s, uh… owner?”

“yeah, why? have you found him...?”

“i think i did, yeah.”

“oh my god, wait, actually? is he okay? are you serious?” you mumbled excitedly, sitting up from the position you were comfortably lying in, the show on your tv already forgotten.

“i am serious, yeah. i'm just out on a walk, and, uh… he was in a box near a trash can. he's all dirty and bloody, but he seems okay.”

“my poor baby” you said with a pout “where are you? wait– who are you? who do i owe my son’s life to? my savior, my hero?”

“oh, i’m just… just spencer, really.” he said with an awkward chuckle, giving in and leaning down to caress the cat, who immediately leans into his hands as if he's never been pet before, “spencer reid.”

“mm, cool. anyway, where are you? i’m going to pick him up. tell him mommy’s coming. actually maybe don't. don't refer to me as mommy, please.”

“uh, well, i wouldn't mind dropping him off at your place, if you want.”

“i thought you were on a walk? you're gonna walk all the way to my apartment with that fucker in your arms?”

“yeah, so… yeah, actually. does he… is he fine with being carried?”

“oh, totally, he loves uppies, but it's–”

“sorry, what? uppies??” he cut you off, confusion and disbelief clear in his voice.

“yeah…? uppies… like… when you carry an animal? in your arms?...” a bleach and tone, like???

“oh, okay…”

“yeah, so, he loves uppies. but it's just inconvenient, no? carrying him like that? where even are you, dude? is it not far?”

after you tell him your address, spencer decided it's close enough to walk there with an overweight cat in his arms. however, when he took forty minutes to show up at your door, panting and sweaty, you realized that probably wasn't a good idea.

“jesus, man, you could've just said you can't walk that long with this fucker.” you said as you opened the door, letting him in and taking the cat in your arms, talking to him in that tiny, baby voice. “oh my god, my baby, thank you so much. you poor thing. where were you, sweetheart? i missed you so so so much…”

spencer stood awkwardly in the doorway, wiping away the dirt that the animal left in his shirt, as you kept mumbling to him.

it must have been around another half hour before you set him down on the ground again, but when you did so, you looked at spencer and gasped, “oh, where are my manners? i'm so sorry, i forgot you were there. come in, jesus, come on in.”

he walked in, and after offering him a glass of water, you led him to sit on the couch. settling awkwardly beside you, he said “so, uh… is he alright? hurt..?”

“no, he's okay. i mean, as far as i can tell. not a vet, or anything. i don't think the blood is his… although that doesn't make it any less worrying. i'll give his vet a call. maybe stop by the clinic. yeah, i should probably stop by the clinic, shouldn't i?”

“yeah, probably. does he have all his vaccines?”

“of course.”

“still, there's a chance he would have caught a disease or eaten something that could have been infected. it's always good to make sure.”

“yeah, i know. i’ll give them a call, see if they can see us today.” you said, to which spencer replied with a nod, the two of you falling silent for a moment. “oh, right, the reward.”

you stood up and walked to the table, taking your wallet and a $10 bill from it. “there's no need, really… it's okay. don't worry about it” he argued, shaking his head when you offered him the money.

“no, oh my god, no, this is the least i can do. you walked so far, with that little heavy fucker. please, just take this. actually, you deserve more. i can barely handle to hold him for more than a few minutes, i'm not sure how you–” you look him up and down “–managed to walk with him for so long. just take the money.” you mumble, taking another bill from your wallet and handing it to him.

"no, no, really, it's fine, i swear."

"no, stop it. you're not leaving until you take this money."

he took it with a scoff, seeing how you won't take no for an answer.

“i should give you the other part of the reward, too.” you said with a chuckle as you sat back down beside him.

“what, the kiss?” he stammered, shaking his head as his face goes red and his eyes widened slightly.

“yeah, you want it?” he started stuttering when you said that, so before he got a proper word out, you added “nah, man, i'm just joking. i put that there to be funny, i'd never kiss a stranger like that.”

“oh, yeah, that… that makes sense.” he laughed shyly, nodding.

the cat showed up again, and you went back to talking about him, until spencer decided it's time to go home, which was only around a few hours later.

now, you're not sure when that turned into what it is now, but you're glad it did.

maybe it was the day after that, when you took garfield to the groomers, and sent spencer a picture of him when he got home, wearing the cute tie they always give him.

maybe it was when you started sending every picture you took of garfield to spencer.

or maybe it was when you started talking about things unrelated to the animal.

you're not sure. but now, spencer reid is at your place again, wearing a colorful hat and singing happy birthday to your cat.

of course, he's the only other person at the party. he's the only friend you were certain would show up. and that he did, after rambling about how the cat didn’t even know it was his birthday.

“woo hoo!! happy birthday, baby!” you exclaim when the song is over, taking the cat in your arms and giving him kisses.

“yay, happy birthday, garfield!” he says with a chuckle, petting him.

as soon as he starts getting fussy, though, you put him back down on the ground with a giggle, “yeah, yeah, off you go.”

“i did tell you he doesn't know the date he was born in.”

“well, yeah, but at least he's getting plenty of treats.” you shrug as you throw yourself on the sofa along with spencer, taking off the birthday hats and tossing them to the side. “he knows he's loved.”

“i'm sure he does” he mumbles, smiling at you softly.

“thanks, by the way” you mutter after a beat, turning to him and giving him a nod.

“for what?”

“finding him.”

“that was ages ago, you've thanked me 63 times since then.” he says with a laugh.

“it's not enough, though. he's a stupid little cat, i doubt he would have survived more time out there. you saved his life, probably.”

he nods, staying quiet for another moment.

“y'know, there is one way you could thank me.”

“yeah…?” you already know what he's talking about, he already knows that you already know. the blush in his cheeks that showed up as he said that, his fidgety fingers, the way he started avoiding your gaze.

“the, uhm… the other part of the reward…”

you'd tease him, make him actually say it, if it weren't for how anxious he looks. it physically hurts, how awkward he is.

so instead, you move your hands to his shoulders as you lean in to press your lips to his. for a second, you're scared this isn't what he was talking about. you're wondering if you've just screwed up a friendship, until he moves a shy hand up to your face.

he feels scared, at first. he holds your jaw, fingers gently tangling in your hair as he hesitantly kisses you. but when a moment goes by like that, and you move to sit on his lap, straddling his hips, it's like something within him changes.

he starts kissing you like you're the first and last thing he'll ever touch, his hands roaming down your body as he slides his tongue into your mouth. he bites and sucks at your bottom lip while his arms wrap around your waist, and your own arms go around his neck.

but a man can't live only off of his beloved’s lips. unfortunately, humans do need oxygen. so when he needs to pull away to breathe, he does so with a groan.

panting, you stare at each other with a smile, and pressing one quick peck to his lips, you whisper, “thank you.”

"no, thank you.”

[pinkmirth]

i think adrian would get hard just from cuddling with you

MIDNIGHT CRAVINGS, adrian ‘alucard’ țepeș!

❤︎ ₊ ˙ ⊹ 900+ words of . . . nsfw/smut, alucard x fem!reader ( black coded! ) established relationship, spooning, unprotected sex, creampie, minors shoo!

the simplest of affections are enough to rile up the poor man. what can he say? he’s a devoted lover! when you’re underneath the silken sheets of alucard’s grand bed, with him spooning you from behind, his arms wrapped around your middle as your body heat radiates off of him, he can’t help but grow . . . excited. he doesn’t think he could react any other way, being this close and intimate with a beautiful woman he loves.

adrian’s lean hips shift a little against your backside, and it isn’t long until you notice the his stirring cock prodding at you, settled between your clothed asscheeks. you can feel the subtle, steady pulse of his underside through your flimsy nightgown. you hum knowingly, feeling your own arousal grow, and he meekly apologizes with a deep, airy whisper to your ear. you welcome it, though; reaching behind you to slink your arm between your bodies, all to grab hold of him through his pyjamas.

adrian’s breath catches in his throat, holding back a rising groan, and you turn over a little to send him a sweet smile, one that embarrassingly makes his cock jump. god, he always reacts to every little thing you do; you just seem to have that effect on him. your fingers curl around the length of him, tugging down and swirling back up with a pace that makes his hips buck into the warmth of your soft palm. there’s a glint in your eye as you work him, one that shows him you want this— want him.

you steadily jerk his throbbing cock, and his grasp on your hips only grows tighter with every stroke. slippery precum spurts out from his mauve-pink tip and dribbles down, wetting your fingers as they massage his shaft. adrian doesn’t think he can take this for much longer— at this rate, he’ll end up orgasming from your hand alone. alucard pants into the crook of your neck, licking and nibbling at the skin there. his moans have a delicious rasp to it, and the shameless sound makes you throb.

“wanna put you inside,” is your soft confession, and who is he to deny you? the thought of being enveloped by your warm, tight cunt is enough to make his mouth water. he flits out his tongue to swipe over his fangs, releasing a shaky breath.

“of course, my love,” adrian gives in, flipping up the hem of your silk-white nightdress. his large palm encompasses the fat of your ass, kneading and squeezing before he goes to hold his cock at the base, lining up with your quivering hole. he starts slow when pressing it in, your wet entrance kissing his sensitive cockhead. adrian sinks in deeper, and he swears he could cum solely off of hearing you whine out his name so sweetly.

alucard kisses the delicate skin of your neck, his hand lifting up your side to cup your left breast and graze over your pebbled nipples. he starts making good work of you; fucking into you from behind, sucking love marks onto the delicate canvas of your flesh. he’s panting into your neck, and the feeling of his cock driving into you with such an undoing pace has you moaning out, rutting your ass back into him as a feeble attempt to match his thrusts. the momentum of his pistoning hips soon grows restless, almost overpowering.

resounding smacks of his pelvis to your backside begin to fill the room and echo off the walls. it’s almost as loud as both your sounds combined; his shuddering breaths and your broken mewls. his quickened pounding makes your back arch further, ass jutting out and rippling against his plunging hips. he slinks his hand forward, swiping the pads of his fingers against your needy clit, pressing tight circles into the puffy nub. “a—adrian!” you cry out, trying to pivot your face around to kiss him.

you’re then blessed with the sight of your beautiful husband. there’s beading sweat built up at his hairline, stray blonde hairs that have fallen into his face, the seductive flutter of his lashes, a scatter of blush that’s overtaken his cheeks, and his pale-pink lips that are trapped underneath his sharp gleaming teeth before your mouth desperately collides with his.

you moan into his mouth, and adrian takes the opportunity to slide his tongue inside, his thin blonde brows drawn downwards when he feels you clench around him. he pulses in return, swapping spit and suckling at your lower lip, swallowing up all the pretty sounds that pour from you. you feel yourself toppling over the edge, and it isn’t long until you’re creaming all over his cock. you let go with a silent gasp and your eyes screwed shut. he fucks you through it and lovingly coos into your ear, staring into your face when you convulse around him; your plush, agape lips, the cute furrow of your brows, and he glances a bit lower to ogle the delicious curve of your spine down to your butt.

a few more pumps and adrian finds himself unraveling. a raspy moan is what marks his climax, lowly whines falling from him when he cums. his tight grasp around your waist is still there, though it loosens with the dazed sensation that comes tug an orgasm. you bask in the feeling of his warm cum spurting into your womb, filling you up nicely. you pout once he slips out of you, a stream of cum spilling down your puffy cunt.

alucard frees out a deep sigh; one of content. again, you tip your head back to kiss him, a calmer one this time. he returns your affections with gentle pecks, mumbles “i love you’s” onto the soft pillow of your lips, caressing the curving plane of your hips. he’s sure that you both know he couldn’t possibly get enough of you.

[feralforfrank]

TASK FORCE 141 🌽 L!NKS

includes: ghost, gaz, soap, price / fem!reader

note warnings under the cut.

🧢 — gaz begs to film you during sex so he can have something of you while he's deployed. (little does he know the walls are extremely thin (if there are any) and your sweet moans reverberate. now the entire team wants to meet you!)

🚬 — when john is gone on solo missions, he trusts gaz to keep an eye on you, take care of anything you need. but john is gone for quite some time, you grow extremely needy. kyle updates him...thoroughly. (and if price cums harder hearing you whine kyle's name? then that's only for him to know.)

🧼👻 — blind dates are great, right? you expect one guy but two show up and in the end you're laying in their bed, with mohawk fucking your guts out and the beefy (scary-looking at first) one playing with your tits. cw: 3some

👻 — car sex with simon because you cannot resist each other to save your life and have to run out of whatever establishment you're in to fuck.

🧼 — this is so soap coded bc i know that man's dick is huge. that's it. that's the tweet.

🚬 — price coming home is always special because he pins you down on the bed and unloads weeks of frustration of not being close to you, all the while he's kissing you and whispering filthy things in your ear. (one of them being that he heard how loud you were with kyle, should we invite him back?)

🚬 — john fucks you like this after whatever social gathering you attended because you looked too pretty in that dress. (he whispers how he wanted to rip it off of you, crowd you in a closet and stuff you full of his cock right there.)

🚬 — mornings well spent with john.

🧼 — what is supposed to be a movie night with soap ends up being a messy makeout session and then this because the man can not keep his hands to himself.

🧼 — also very johnny coded, im a fat dick soap truther

👻 — simon loves shower sex. craves the inctimacy it provides. also, your moans are louder in here because you think the water conceals them and he loves seeing your boobs mushed against the glass. link 2

🚬 — he's just missed you so much. long periods of deployment with no contact make him very needy.

👻 — you ask ghost for the mask to stay on. who is he to deny you? cw: mask kink

🧼👻 — the video you receive after you text simon that you miss them.

🧼 — johnny loooves tits. doesn't care if they're big, small, heavy, light, or whatever. he. just. loves. boobs. i will die on that hill. cw: boob worship ig

[solardrop]

silver.

aaron hotchner x reader.

summary: hotch really doesn't think getting old is sexy. tags: fluff. a suggestive line here or there but nothing crazy. age gap (reader in their 30s, hotch is 57). jack mentioned. i think this could be read as gn!reader but i could be wrong. just short and cute. word count: 1.0k a/n: last fics rules still apply. be nice to me! when i look up photos of hair dying on pinterest i get rainbow haired e-boys so accept this haircut photo <3 divider creds to @/cafekitsune

Your name echoes across the house when Aaron yells for you from the bathroom. Once you enter the space you're greeted by his hair spiked in every which way, covered in a brownish-black goop. His thick hands are gloved and hold a small black toothbrush-like applicator.

"Sweetheart, can you check if I missed a spot?" Aaron hands you the brush and tray of inky black dye. You make a show of rolling your eyes and pouting back at him in the mirror and you take the items from him.

"I forgot it was that time of month that you decided to cover up all your sexy.." you sigh.

"Really," he scoffs, a teasing smile creeping on his lips, "I thought all the sexy was gone when I shaved.'

You almost teared up remembering the loss of his beard. A case off the grid forced him to grow one out for a few weeks. You understandably jumped his bones upon seeing the new look when he returned. The extra hair provided some out-of-this-world sensations for your softest parts that you would never forget. Only for the wicked man to shave all of it after two days, citing the "professional dress code" of the FBI as the culprit.

You snap a latex glove onto your hand, "Shush and bend over, big guy."

He smiles and kneels to face you, his rough hands gripping the fat of your thighs. You slowly worked around his head, dabbing bits of dye in bare spots. Your fingers rake through the inky black mass on his head, gently massaging his scalp. Aaron hums and thanks you under his breath.

"Do you know why I started dying my hair so consistently?"

"To torture me?"

"No," he huffs," when Jack was about... eight? I had taken him on this trip with a couple of his friends and their fathers, it was fun, but at the end of the whole thing Jack pointed at the grays starting to grow out on my hairline and turned to his friends and said-"

"Baby no...."

"'Guys look! My daddy is sooo old!'"

You clamp your lips shut to hold in your laughter. You didn't want to embarrass him further, especially with the deep red flush rising up the nape of his neck.

"Oh honey Jack was still a baby then... kids are insane you know that"

" I do, and I know. I laughed it off. I know he didn't really mean anything by it, but I didn't know if he felt like the odd one out for having an old dad.." Aaron runs his hands up and down your legs mindlessly. "And now I don't want you to feel out of place either."

You pause at that. In the few years you and Hotch have been together, never has he shown any insecurity about the difference in age between you. And he sure as hell wasn't about to start now if you had anything to do with it. You slicked his hair back with your hands and placed the clear complimentary shower cap in the box on his head, snickering at how silly he looked. Once you slide the slimy gloves off you set the timer on your phone and grasp the face of the man you loved so dearly, forcing him to rest his chin on your stomach and look into your eyes.

"You have less than thirty minutes to explain to me why you think I'd care about you looking old"

"you're young-"

"I'm in my thirties-"

"you're younger," he corrects "than me by quite a bit. All your friends have other young people to share their life and first experiences with. Meanwhile, you're stuck with a sixty-year-old-"

"You're fifty-seven-" Your eyes roll.

"a fifty-seven-year-old with a sassy kid turned angsty teenager for a child." he sighs, "Sweetheart I just don't want you to ever look at me and feel a loss."

You take a moment to scan his face. Despite the stupid shower cap mushrooming around his head, his face showed no amusement when he spoke. The sweet, shy smile he always sported around you was gone, replaced with a grimace and furrowed brow.

"Aaron I have never felt more loved, accepted, and safe than I have with you. I know you know that," you say.

He nods, pressing a quick peck to your belly button before looking at you. His eyes search yours for a moment of hesitation or change in resolve. but you stand your ground.

"The only thing I worry about with you on my arm is fighting off all the homewreckers."

He wheezes a laugh at this. Eventually having to stand up before he smears the dark dye all over you. He always does this. Laughs and acts like he wouldn't have crowds of people stop to fawn over his beauty if he let them.

"Remember that neighbor at the old apartment who would only stop by with cookies when she knew you were home?"

"Or the time Jack's classmate profiled their teacher's crush on you?"

"Don't even get me started on that detective JJ keeps telling me about from years ago in New Mexico. The male detective."

He smiles at you sheepishly, "You've made your point."

"If you want to dye your hair or shave to make yourself happy I think you should," you whisper, "but Aar I love every version of you possible"

You press your lips to his cheek before you continue, "You are the most beautiful, devastatingly sexy old man out. And I will still throw myself at you in public if you decide to finally ditch the box dye."

He smiles at you fully now, eyes shining as he looks down at you. He slides his lips against yours, grinning into the kiss before he pulls away to thank you.

"Maybe after this starts to grow out I'll see how I feel about the silver again." He looks back at his reflection in the mirror. He turns his head every which way to peek at the processing strands under the shower cap.

"Think about the beard too damn it.." you mumble. You begin to wander out of the bathroom when he yells for you again.

"Oh and sweetheart one more thing," you turn to look at him, confused when he stifles a laugh, "will you still think I'm sexy if I start balding like my father?"

[cupidkenji]

killshot, baby

Pairing: Aaron Hotch x Doctor!Fem!reader Cw: Fluff (for real this time), LONGING (this is literally 9k words of pure yearning idek how I did that), mentions of blood, Hotch gets shot, Jack being adorable, Jack gets injured too :(, no explicit age gap, this is just rlly cute idk it's sweet I love Hotch so much I need him Summary: When you get hired as the BAU's stand-by medic, the team leader ends up being the hardest part of your job. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby! She's always fat coded, but like usual she's not described here. Just know a chubby person was imagined when writing this <3 WC: 9k (Hotch is the love of my life I could go on about him forever) This is definitely not medically accurate, please just enjoy for the sake of the story. I LOVE HOTCH I WANNA SMOOCH HIM

As weird as it was, band aids were the thing you remembered most from your childhood. You grew up as a canvas for any sort of scrape, cut, or bruise. Any wound that made your parents feel mildly worried to utterly terrified were ones that decorated your body frequently. You never tried to assign any meaning to why you became a doctor, simply crediting it as your call to the profession - to people. If you had to, though, your consistently bruised adolescent body is the best root cause you could think of. It seemed only right that the kid who couldn’t keep her skin in tact would grow to love helping others. You liked to think that’s how you kept your head an average size. Your bosses and co-workers had raved about your abilities no matter the job you took, and after a while you had to start prioritizing keeping your humility. You had started as just a kid with bruises. 

You tended to ground yourself with those same memories in times like this. For as long as you’d worked in the hospital, you held some disdain for agents. You saw many federal ones, being so close to the HQ for divisions like Behavioral Analysis, but some locals swung by too. You’d had far too many experiences of them being snappy, demanding, and usually inconsiderate to the team of people trying to save someone. You understood the individuals you were committed to helping often got there by doing monstrous things, but demanding to talk to someone when they were bleeding out and half-conscious always forced your tongue between your teeth in an effort to stay respectful. Especially now, pushing a stretcher with 3 other workers while trying to shake off the feds trailing after him. You recognized them, Agents Rossi and Hotchner, if you remembered correctly. 

“We’ll need to talk to him immediately.” The man - Rossi, you assumed, seeing as he was going gray and had less of a charge fueling his steps - spoke quickly as the two men followed your team.

“Be here when he’s out of surgery.” You didn’t bother to look back, trying to convey your annoyance and praying they got the hint. 

“He’s killed three women and has another one hostage. We don’t have time.” The other one piped up, easily keeping pace with you.

Abandoning your previous strategy, you let your team push the man into the operating room, shutting the door behind them and whipping around to face the duo. “I understand that, sir, believe me.” You were more elevated than you would have liked, years of unease unfortunately slipping through your efforts to withhold them. “But whatever happened when you found him left him barely breathing. You can’t speak to a corpse. You’ll have your time when he’s stable. Go do your job and let me do mine.” You tensed your calves planning to turn around, but quickly felt the guilt catch up to you. “I’ll call you if he wakes up.”

“If?” 

You sighed. You hated profilers. “I’ll call you.” 

“Call the headquarters.” He was scribbling down a number on the back of a hospital business card. “Ask for Agent Hotch. We’ll be waiting.” You nodded your head once, taking the card from his hands. He started walking away as he thanked you. “We appreciate it.” Sure.

–

The surgery to save the man had been a trip and half. One of the bullets had internally ricocheted, and the other two were lodged next to crucial arteries. You praised your mother for giving you steady hands as you inched them out of him. It took you and your team six hours and fifteen minutes to get his heartbeat steady, you estimated he’d be knocked out all night. You should call, you thought. You had no idea how late these people worked but they were more than likely expecting to talk tonight and you didn’t know if that’d be possible. You fished the card out of your pocket, his handwriting was impressively neat for how fast he’d written the number. You heard the line ring twice before someone picked up. 

“This is Penelope Garcia with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, who am I speaking to?”

“Uh- I’m Dr. L/n down at Quantico Med. I’m looking for Agent Hotch?” Your words tilted up at the end of your sentence. The casual nature of his shortened name left a weird feeling in your mouth after you said it. “I have an update on a patient he was asking after.”

“Is this about an unsub?” 

“A what?” She lacked professionalism. You wondered briefly if he had just given you the phone number of an employee.

“I’m sorry-” she laughed slightly. “Is this about a suspect? Hotch told me someone might be calling.”

“Um - yeah it’s about a suspect. He was brought in earlier. Is Agent Hotch there? I’m sorry ma’am but I've been in an operating room for the past 6 hours and I want to go home.” You hoped she’d respect your honesty, you really didn’t have the patience to explain yourself to someone new. 

She chuckled. “I got you honey, I’ll page you over.” The line went dead for a second before the ringing resumed. Please be quick, you prayed, get me out of this fucking hospital.

“Hotchner.” His voice was rougher over the phone. You guessed the long hours started to weigh on him by this time of night. You always felt it the most around this time, too.

“Hi, sir. This is Dr. L/n from the hospital. We managed to stabilize your guy, but it’s unlikely he’ll be up before tomorrow. I know it was assumed he’d be awake tonight but it took longer to operate than expected.” Your guys put 3 bullets in him, so sorry for the inconvenience. “I’ll be here all day tomorrow. You can come by at any time and I’ll let you in.”

“Are you positive we can’t talk to him tonight? I understand the situation is difficult but this case is extremely time sensitive. I’m sure that’s not lost on you.” You cursed the man for not being more condescending in his delivery. Thinking of the poor person either trapped or dead right now due to the guy you just saved made you sick. 

“I know.” Fucking hell. “I can wake him up.” A quarter dose of adrenaline works wonders. “Be here in fifteen minutes. You won’t have much time to talk to him.”

“Thank you.” He hung up. You put your head in your hands. Just a little kid with bruises.

– 

The layout of the BAU made you envious of the workers here. You’re sure they’d dealt with atrocities beyond what the average person could stomach, but you also worked within the belly of the beast and man were those hospital hallways claustrophobic. The daylight shone beautifully through the large windows, and you asked yourself if you’d be able to cope with all the paperwork in exchange for a feel like this. There weren’t any front desks, nowhere to sign in, so you sat in one of the chairs by the door and waited to see if something would happen. You had been specifically requested to visit the building , a note signed ‘Strauss’ being left with the hospital secretary. You didn’t like being called on by a stranger, it made you nervous beyond belief. You’re sure anyone walking by assumed you were being charged with something. Sweating like a sinner in church.

“Dr. L/n?” A woman was standing near you, having completely avoided your eyesight until now. “I’m the board supervisor, Erin Strauss. Thank you for coming.” The woman was nice enough, but she seemed rigid, clearly confident in her authority. She led you to her office and gestured to the chair facing her desk.

“I’ll cut right to the chase.” She smoothed her pencil skirt as she sat down. “The BAU is seeking a stand-by medic and I’d like to offer you the position. You’re revered highly by your previous places of employment and your current boss has only good things to say. Along with a personal reference by an employee of mine, you’re certainly a person of interest. You’d be working interchangeably with three other individuals, however you would be the first one called when needed.”

That is definitely not what you were expecting. You were almost immediately ready to turn down the offer. You didn’t work well with cops. You worked well in a hospital, going into the field to patch the wounds of both good and evil was a less than appealing deal to you. 

“You’d be on call while you worked your current position at Quantico Medical, when you’re at home you can remain there, but you’ll be flying with the rest of the team when they leave. You will be entered into a federal database, and employed as a stand-in for hospitals near you when working abroad.” She went on to explain you’d be paid salary, and when you heard just how much you could add to your monthly income by doing this, you took it. You were doing fine, you definitely didn’t need the financial boost, but you had family that could use it. Your niece had been close to turning down college because of the cost, so some extra money could really set her up. 

“Excellent. You’ll start your field training next Monday.” She was shuffling papers into a hefty stack as she talked. “Come back when you’ve finished this and I’ll arrange a team meeting.” The stack was even heavier than you expected when you picked it up. It was far too early to be regretting your decision. 

–

The first day of training had been easy enough. You weren’t an agent, so you avoided having to learn weapons or combat. It generally consisted of learning efficiency, along with how to work properly with agents and the expected etiquette when dealing with an unsub. You had met the team only once by now. Everyone had been nice - Garcia especially - but aside from her nobody had been particularly welcoming. The conditions of your job were a bit strange, basically capitalizing on the what ifs that came with the FBI title, and that created a bit of distance between you and the rest of the team. They questioned the necessity of you, they’d survived this long without a stand-by medic with them, why did they need one now?

Above any disregard for those in law enforcement sat your stubbornness. You knew they were on the fence about you, the most logical thing for you to do now would be attend every session required of you and prove yourself through pure accomplishment. Easy in theory, much harder to execute when Aaron Hotch is the one you’re learning from. He was a good teacher - you’d give him that - he had a confidence to him that easily dominated a room, attracted eyes in a way other men couldn’t manage. You’d ignored the initial stir in your stomach when meeting him in favor of attempting to scold him and his partner. Now, it was much harder to quell the slight pound in your head or the sweat on your palms. He was just standing up front, lecturing on the importance of a team, but his attire was the only thing able to break through the haze in your mind. Every time he’d shown up at the hospital, he’d donned a suit, a slightly baggy blazer worked incredibly well as a shield to your curiosity. That had clearly changed, as he shed the overcoat when talking to the class, having just a white button up adorn his torso. You took notice of the rolled up sleeves, clearing your throat quietly to snap yourself back into focus. You had the intention of snuffing out this little thing of yours but were a living contradiction at this point, setting on the goal of avoidance while barely ignoring the sight of the veins on his arms. You pondered the thought of sleeping with some man at a bar just to get this out of your system, but remembered how little projecting attraction onto someone else helps a situation. In other words, you were probably fucked.

– 

The first mission you worked with the team had you flying to a tiny Georgia town to investigate a string of bodies being found in ransacked homes. It seemed to be a simple motive, robbery turned to murder, but the team was called down to help once the kill count hit five. You had been expecting a long commercial flight, figuring you’d need to invest in a good neck pillow and some aspirin. Nobody had bothered to inform you the Bureau utilized private air travel, or that you’d be flying in one with people you’d known for two weeks. You’re sure you looked a little out of place, looking around the plane without being obvious you were doing it and adjusting to the sight of couches on planes. The others, having had this privilege for years now, took their respective seats. You had been nervous about that, unfortunately. The unsure feeling of where to sit reminding you painfully of high school cafeterias and inferior reputations. The only open seat happened to be right next to the man you’d been ducking away from the past two weeks. Lovely. He took a moment to look at you when you sat. You were prepared to talk to him, but for now you busied yourself with rummaging through your bag looking for nothing and pretending not to see him in your peripherals.

“Do you get sick on planes?” He seemed to have a deeper motive when he asked, like you saying yes would solve a puzzle in his head.

“Not really.” You’d only been on a plane a handful of times. “Turbulence can make me nervous, but I think that’s fairly normal.” You thought momentarily that perhaps he would blame your obvious anxiety on that instead of his proximity to you. He was a profiler, you’re sure he picked up on tells for nerves you weren’t even aware you had, but maybe he’d write it off. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem…” He trailed off for a moment, looking over your face to try and categorize your expression. “I don’t know, lost?” He smiled, light and easy, and you realized he was trying to reach out to you. The comfortability in the gesture made your head spin. It was like a shot of morphine, enveloping your body in a dull elation - an escape. You wanted that comfortability, wanted him to feel weightless around you. There had been a certain tension between the two of you since you started. He was warmer than the rest, but also more awkward. Your first real interaction had been an outburst, and it left you hesitant to talk to him. 

You chuckled at his remark. “No I -” You shook your head as you spoke, as if shaking off his accusation. “Nobody told me about the jet. You’d think exclusive aircraft would be in the job predecessor.”

He nodded in agreement, holding a slight upturn on his lips. “Yes, you would.” He glances away to check the time, looking back to you quickly like you were his homebase. “Strauss has a habit of getting ahead of herself. Plus, we’re all pretty used to it by now. I have to remind her sometimes that normal provisions don’t have a TI.”

“I’m sure.” It was clear she’d worked with the unit for a while. “Even if they did, though, they’d never find another Garcia.” You thought of the woman, bright and sparkly and incredibly good at her job. “You guys are lucky to have her.”

He stared at you, losing a hint of the lightheartedness and letting a wave of genuinity intertwine with it. “You have her too, Y/n.” His eyes were like a trap, rich pools of honey just begging to tug you down in. “You’re a member of this team. Don’t think your newness makes you inferior to anyone else on it. We’re lucky to have you too.”

Fuck, you were whipped. “I really appreciate that, sir.”

He smiled, shaking his head and waving you off. “Don’t with the sir, please. It’s bad enough when Garcia does it. You can call me Aaron.” Not even the other team members called him that, a thought that seemed to strike you both simultaneously. “Or Hotch, whatever you prefer.”

You just looked at him, letting a smile rouse your lips and trying your hardest not to let the effect he had on you reach your face. “Ok.”

–

The first case had been good training wheels, simply tending to a vic who needed stitches and getting a feel for the life of a field agent. You’d been adjusting nicely to it, quickly getting used to working random hospitals and waiting to be needed on an active crime scene. The others had warmed up to you tremendously after getting back, opening their circle for one more, and you couldn’t be more grateful. A team like this was something you’d wanted for a while, growing more and more unsatisfied with the callous ER workspace by the day. Ironically, there was much more life in jobs dealing with murder. He had also been warming up to you. The two of you hit the status of work-place friends nearly instantly. The endearing encounter on the plane simmered inside you for a while. The memory of it prompting you to keep talking to him, always searching for a fix of the painkiller you’d felt that day. 

You weren’t a profiler, but you were unfathomably infatuated, leading you to never miss his tone getting softer with you, or any one of his touches that lingered for just a second too long. It just barely bypassed the line of friendship, but you never lost sight of that linear barrier, so it was incredibly prevalent to you when he breached it. You scoffed at the idea of any reciprocity, brushing off every remark made by a coworker or the one horrific time you heard JJ refer to the two of you as ‘mom and dad.’ This wasn’t a plausible thing. This was a stupid workplace crush that was more of a hindrance than anything. The growing closeness between you and him would have it’s effects properly restrained to the confines of your head, only permitted to express themselves once you were away from the man. It was an odd dynamic, but Aaron wasn’t an obvious guy, so trying to define the edges of you two would only draw attention to the fact you had been looking at all. No thank you.

“Shit.” The team was sitting around the table going over their files. You were mainly there for support, as you were never a part of the lead up to the catch, the chase. You heard Hotch mumble the exclamation under his breath and looked over to see the trouble. He was looking down at his phone, jaw resting between his thumb and pointer finger. You got up and moved to sit next to him, the motion virtually ignored by everyone else as they continued searching for connections.

“Everything ok?” You mumbled to him, trying not to disturb your friends who were nearly nose-deep in their files. 

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Jack’s sitter canceled. I wanted to stay here to go over the latest crime scene but I guess I’ll have to raincheck.” The killings of your latest unsub had been increasing. You knew the collective stress that was starting to boil within the team. Him going home would only slow them down, a horrible addition to a killer that was speeding up. 

You volunteered your night away before you even got a chance to think about it. 

“I can watch him.” 

Surprise was apparent in the raise of his eyebrows. “I appreciate it, but I couldn’t ask that of you.

You’re fairly certain you would do anything he asked of you, but the nobility of the man in this case almost made you roll your eyes. “No, please. I offered and I would love to. I’m not helping anyone just sitting here, and you leaving would slow them down. You know what to look for here, I don’t. I don’t want another girl going missing just cause your sitter flaked. I can do it.”

He seemed mildly speechless. “I -” He paused, trying to find the wording he wanted. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll send you the address, if you’re sure.” He looked at you with more adoration than you’d ever had directed at you, so intense your eyes instinctively ducked down. “Thank you, Y/n.” He was so touched by the action it made you slightly sad to think about. Had no one ever helped him? Maybe you were raised weird, this seemed hardly beyond common decency to you. 

“What are friends for?” He exhaled a slight laugh in gratuitous agreement, but you saw the glimmer of his eyes dull slightly. The notion surely reflected in your own eyes as the words burned your tongue. Friends.

–

Jack was a delight. A well mannered, clearly well raised kid. Parts of his dad shined so vibrantly in him that you’re sure you’d be able to pick him out of a crowd based on mannerisms alone. Hotch had called Jack’s daycare, verifying your identity and giving you the ok to go pick him up. He seemed quiet on the way home, but rushed to give you a tour of the house, and excitedly led you to his line up of toy trains once you’d entered the place. There was a shift between you and Hotch that happened when you gave the offer. A shift that was now only just settling in you. This was his house. His space, his stuff, his place of security. He’d invited you into it, gave you permission to enter it, to exist within it, and it was strangely intoxicating. He was intoxicating, and you realized quickly how much you ached for the permanence of it. You’d made Jack dinner, played for a bit, went out for ice cream per his pleading, and wished him a peaceful goodnight when his bedtime rolled around. He’d dubbed you his ‘best babysitter ever’ and you knew as soon as the words hit your ears that you’d be watching him again. You’re sure situations like today popped up frequently for Hotch, you could be a valuable asset to him when you had free time. He would be saving money too. No need to pay a sitter when you were being paid by the Bureau every second you were there. Aaron had gotten home a few minutes past one, utterly exhausted and uncharacteristically apologetic. He was sorry for being gone so long, making you stay so late, everything and anything the man could apologize for was pouring out of his mouth. He’d welcomed you to stay, but his hair was messy from messing with it all night, and he’d ditched the suit jacket for a gray long sleeve. You’d wanted to take the opportunity, wanted to bask in the safety of him for as long as he’d allow it, but those restrained thoughts were clawing the walls of your skull with a vigor unlike anything you’d felt before. It would be abhorrent to dream about the man while in the confines of his home. You couldn’t do that - you wouldn’t. You brushed off any apology he could conjure and let him escort you out the door. His hand was on your lower back, and his voice was low from the siphoning nature of the day. 

“Thank you, again.” He looked at you. “You’re a lifesaver.” You’d expected to hear some humor in his voice. The start of banter between friends, a casual appreciation for a job well done, but there wasn’t any. He sounded rough, slightly beat down, his eyes filled with a sincerity all aimed at you. A blend of pure adoration and a deeper level of dedication. Was this a commitment? What kind?

Heat bubbled in your stomach as you made eye contact. “Please.” You shook your head slightly. “Jack’s an angel. You’re clearly as good at this as you are profiling.” You nodded in the vague direction of Jack’s bedroom as you referenced the kid. “It was my pleasure. I’d love to do it again, if you’ll let me.” 

He sighed out a small laugh and broke your gaze for a moment, looking back to you as he spoke. “I’d like that.”

–

You’d seen Jack a multitude of times after that. Aaron was never particularly fond of asking you, claiming that he appreciated the gesture but it was mainly Jack’s begging that made him cave. That, and your persistence. You liked Jack a lot, and more selfishly, you liked being around Aaron’s stuff. It was a little creepy, yes, but you felt better acquainted with him after being around his things. An energetic type of understanding, the type that deepened a connection without words. He was needed late tonight, and as much as you hated denying an offer to see Jack, you had priorities at the hospital. The previous sitter wasn’t able to watch him, so she gave a personal recommendation, and Jack got stuck with a stranger. You thought about him while working, probing and patching people half-focused with the desire to be elsewhere. You’d felt mildly guilty about it, but it’s not like it altered your work, so you figured it was harmless. 

You wondered slightly if you manifested the event you were watching play out. You watched in pure disbelief as a sobbing Jack was being carried into the ER by a flustered blonde woman. There was blood staining the right sleeve of his shirt, pouring out of his skin in a surplus and completely soaking through the material. A jagged piece of glass was standing at attention in his wrist, having sliced through the fabric like butter. He was marked ‘urgent,’ who knows if the shard had hit an artery or where the glass had come from. 

Most other doctors were busy, either operating or tending to patients. You’d walked to the front desk, remaining as calm as your racing heart would let you, and told the secretary to assign the case to you. “I know this one. Let me take him.” She just nodded, marking your name down as the primary doctor and allowing you to take him back. 

Walking up to the blonde woman, you assumed this had been the new babysitter. She was a wreck, trying to explain what happened through her own hysteria while simultaneously having her words drowned out by the crying child. “It’s ok, ma’am.” You’d reassured her, obviously she hadn’t intended the injury. “Let me take him, I’m a friend of his father.” You saw the calmness dilate her eyes, making itself apparent in the relaxation of her tense shoulders. You removed the bleeding boy from her arms, holding him against you and cooing at him the way you would a baby. You took him to a stretcher a few feet away and laid him down, ensuring his wounded arm stayed flat in an attempt to slow the blood. He was on the brink of passing out, his body not having nearly enough energy for the sobbing on top of losing vital fluid. “Jack.” You addressed him directly, two more doctors aiding your transfer to an examination room. “I need you to stay with me, buddy. Just a little longer, I promise. You’re gonna be just fine.” You pushed with one hand, caressing his non-injured arm to emphasize your affection. “Just a little longer.” You looked at him in between looking forward to keep the stretcher straight, seeing that same adoration from his father’s eyes mirrored in his. You felt protective, realizing you cared for the Hotchners much more than you let yourself believe. Little kid with bruises, you skimmed through your origins in your mind in an attempt to center your focus. Just a little kid with bruises.

Two hours later, Jack was stitched up and sleeping soundly. You knew his sitter had called Hotch, probably as soon as something happened, and were not surprised to find him idle in a waiting room chair. He was leaned forward, head in his hands and knee bouncing violently. He heard footsteps getting closer, a feeling within him recognizing them as yours, and he looked up. His eyes were teary, tired. The look of a concerned father.

“How is he?” You’d never witnessed this type of worry in him, heard the amount of desperation in his voice.

You smiled lightly as a predecessor to Jack’s wellbeing. “He’s fine. Glass missed his arteries. We had him patched up in around an hour and a half. Gave him a lollipop and a light sedative to get him to rest. He should be all set to go in the morning.” 

He sighed, and the amount of stress that audibly left his body made you feel a little lighter from where you stood. “Thank God.”

“Hey man, give us a little credit.” You joked, relieved when you heard the slight laugh come from his downturned head. Pity laugh, probably, but it was a cherished sound nonetheless. 

“You have full credit, Y/n.” He shook his head, raising it to look at you. “Quite the hero.”

You almost physically recoiled from the term, rushing to correct him while maintaining the lighthearted nature. “Definitely not.” You rejected the praise. “Just doing my job. I’m glad I could help him.”

He leaned back in his chair, relaxing for a second before he planned to stand up. “Noble.” He chuckled. “But you helped my son. That’s about as heroic as it gets to me, doc.”

Blood rushed to your ears at your professional title being used so affectionately. “Go check on your kid, Hotch.” You waved back towards the direction of Jack, knowing that even though he was asleep, he’d want to see him anyway. You also hoped the slight distraction would draw his attention away from your increasingly flustered state. “You’ll have plenty of time to praise me.” You weren’t entirely sure you’d wanted the sentence to exit your mouth, but it was too late to bite your tongue.

He raised his eyebrows so slightly that you scolded yourself for having noticed. Such a minuscule action that seemed to move mountains within your brain. “Oh?”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes at your own remark. “I’m walking away. You know what I meant.”

“Mhm.” He smiled, nodding his head dramatically and rising from his seat. “Just name a time and place, doc. I’ll do good on that promise.”

You went momentarily braindead, hoping your eyes weren’t giving away the less than work appropriate feeling pumping through your veins. You stared baffled at him for what was definitely a millisecond too long before giving a half-shocked, half-flattered laugh and gesturing him away. “Say that when you’re not obviously sleep deprived and delirious and maybe we can arrange it.” The last thing you heard was him, laughing the way you do when you’re very serious but desperately trying to pass it off as a joke. You knew it well, having done it almost every time you were around him since you started. Comfortable, witty retorts between  friends. “Have a good night, Aaron.” 

Aaron, he thought. He’d remember that.

– 

That had been the second shift between the two of you. Felt immediately by both parties and tossing you both into the deep end of whatever you’d been building with him. He’d been much more touchy, seemingly subconscious on his part but noticed by every part of your body, mind, and soul. You thought about what it could mean, then sunk even further into your incoherent mind when realizing just how subconscious the actions really were. He was just drawn to you. You had viscerally fought that conclusion as it came to you but it genuinely could not be anything else. He was touching you more because - whether on the surface or deeper down - he just wanted to, and that fact was wrecking you. You were so fucking into him that it hurt. Hurt to look at him or be in his home watching Jack or have his knee pressed against yours in the back of car during a team outing. It all hurt because he wasn’t yours. He seemed into you, too. Of course, you didn’t know to what extent. You worried maybe he hadn’t said anything yet because he simply didn’t like you enough, and that hurt more than any other factor. It was a foolish notion - one you would have abandoned instantly had you peeked inside his head - but alas, no such luck.

He’d been more relaxed, too. The two of you reaching a point in your relationship you hadn’t ever let yourself dream about. He was funny, achieving that lightness around you that you’d wanted from the start. He’d gotten riskier, amping up the dial on his remarks a bit. Starting with those like the hospital, ending with ones that made you have to take a breather in the room where they kept the coffee. It hadn’t gone unnoticed, per say, but the others were certainly ignorant to the true depth of the change. You simply couldn’t measure it by witnessing, you had to feel it. And fuck were you feeling it. 

A week or so after Jack’s ER visit, you’d asked after him. You didn’t know if the regret was immediate, but it flooded through you quickly. Aaron got nervous, shifty, like you’d touched a live wire of his and he now had to patch it up before it blew. You got concerned, asking if something happened with his stitches or if Jack was now showing some sort of trauma response to the event. Was that even plausible? You weren’t sure, PTSD wasn’t exactly your strong suit. However, he quickly stated that wasn’t the case, noting that Jack was actually in perfect health and had been relentless about wanting you over for dinner.

“He’s grateful.” Hotch was smiling with paternal reluctance, proud of his son for having such good morals but also uncomfortable with the possibility of rejection he was facing. “He wants to see you, say thank you for “saving his life.” He emphasized the last bit in a sarcastic tone, both of you knowing his life hadn’t been in danger but also knowing that fact wouldn’t deter the boy from considering you some type of guardian angel. “Would you be up for it?” If you hadn’t been so focused on snuffing out the heat rushing to your face, you would have seen that same heat reflected in a slight pink across his cheeks. 

“Definitely.” You smiled at the thought of the boy bugging his dad about getting you to the house. “When were you thinking?”

“Saturday night?” Both of you were scheduled to be off that day, and you found yourself begging whatever merciful being would listen to not have some lead to chase that day. “He’ll want the day to prepare.” He chuckled.

“Oh no.” You joked. Prepare? You couldn’t even begin to imagine what that meant. “Well, I am extremely curious to find out what an eight year old boy has to prepare for. How about seven? Would that be good?”

Aaron felt his palms start to sweat. He’d never actually been around his house when you’d been there, only seeing you on your way out. “That’s perfect.”

“Great.” You smiled, checking the time and realizing you needed to get going to the hospital. “I’m looking forward to it.” You nodded slightly as one last confirmation and headed out, suppressing a giddy smile while trying to force yourself into a headspace you could work in. 

In the meantime, Aaron watched you walk off from where he’d been perched on your desk, entirely oblivious to the man watching the scene.

“As I live and breathe.” Rossi had crept up on him, not spooking him but rather suspending him in a state of immeasurable embarrassment. “Aaron Hotcher has a crush.” The man held his shoulder, patting him there like a father witnessing his son get his first girlfriend. “She’s a good one. Quite the eye you got, Aaron.” Then he was gone, walking away with Aaron’s dignity clasped in his hands. Closing his eyes in pure mortification, Hotch simply thanked God that nobody else was around for that and walked away with the intention of fusing to his office chair to avoid ever looking at Rossi again. At least you’d said yes, he thought. He didn’t know how he’d cope with his friend watching him swing and miss.

–

The daylight seemed to be anticipating this more than you were, hours passing by like minutes until eventually the sun woke you up on Saturday morning. It was blazing through the cracks in your blinds, settling in slim lines across your floor, as light and gentle as snow. You’d been rehearsing your poker face in preparation for tonight. Writing safety manuals for any ungodly situation that could happen, everything from a fire to Aaron gaining the ability to read your mind and unearthing what you really thought about him. You were so happy that Jack held you in such high esteem, but your hands were shaking at the thought of sitting down with him and his father and acting like it wasn’t the dynamic you fucking dreamt about. You knew it was a good sign of compatibility if someone’s cat liked you - did their child liking you mean the same thing? You hoped Jack’s seemingly innate approval of you gave you at least a couple brownie points. Aaron had called you a hero. Swiftly ignoring the memory of what he’d said after he called you a hero, you pulled out your phone. You and him didn’t really speak outside of work and babysitting schedules, but you were pacing around your room and needed something to give you a semblance of structure, a reassurance - even if it was just for the time. You texted, asking if you were still on for tonight, then went to go make breakfast and inevitably pace some more. He’d gotten back to you about twenty minutes later, confirming the time and giving details of how excited Jack was about it. You smiled at that, praying tonight would be as smooth as humanly possible and you could walk away with an ounce of emotional control. You set an intention, this wouldn’t deepen your feelings for Aaron. Was it a pointless goal? Yes. Was it also highly unlikely to prove true? Yes. But the loose plan you worked around the resolution almost completely extinguished the anxiety that had been blazing for hours now. It would be fine, you thought. Completely and utterly fine. 

The same words were looping through your thoughts when you got to his front door. Casual - but still minorly more dressed up than he’d seen you. You’d put a little extra effort into your appearance, mainly to pass the time if you were honest, and you walked in with mild confidence fueling your steps. You did your best not to ogle him, he was in an attire that was already threatening to unravel the safety net of the goal you set. You were used to the suits hidden beneath blazers you cursed the existence of, maybe a snippet of his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves late at night. Now, though, he sported a simple black tee, more comfortable than you’d ever seen him. Domesticity was practically oozing from the entire situation. You felt the pieces slip into place as Jack ran up behind him, and you almost cried with how badly you wanted this feeling to be your normal. 

“Hey, buddy.” You laughed as he hugged you, reciprocating the act as well as you could from the multiple feet you had on his height. “How’s the arm?”

He raised up his wrist, now gauze free and proudly showed off the scar there. You played up the genuine admiration you felt for him. “That’s a pretty gnarly scar.” He nodded in response, probably feeling cool for the evidence he handled such an injury. “I don’t want to see you back in my operating room, you hear me? Scared the life out of us.” The scolding was playful, and he giggled at your words.

Aaron huffed in agreement, cocking his head to the side slightly. “You can say that again.” Jack looked between you two, smiling and seemingly thinking something neither of you could decipher. To break the moment of silence, Aaron patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell her what’s on the menu, buddy?”

He told you, and you hummed along to his words, commenting that it sounded delicious and actually meaning it. He ran away a second later - presumably back to whatever he’d been doing before you got there - and left you and Aaron alone. Venturing into the kitchen, you saw multiple pans and pots sitting neatly on the stove, table set and ready to be utilized. Everything was being kept warm, and you finally gained an appetite after having wrestled with nerves all day. 

“Do you want a drink?” He asked it while entering the kitchen, pausing to look at you. 

“Please.” You were desperate to calm yourself, eager to subdue the shaking of your hands. “Do you have any wine?” You weren’t the biggest fan, but you couldn’t think of a drink more fitting for the evening.

He nodded slightly. “Red or white?”

“White.”

He chuckled. “Thought so.” It was quiet, more to himself than you as he was already walking away from you when he said it. He’d thought about what kind of wine you liked, you thought. He’d thought about you. He pulled two wine glasses down from the cupboard, then walked over to the fridge. He reached above it, barely having to stretch, and pulled an uncorked bottle from the storage up there. You felt your legs tense looking at how tall he was, how sure he was of his actions. Jesus. It’s been five minutes and you were crumbling. You watched his hands as he uncorked the bottle, reading the label and realizing the brand.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Seems a little fancy for a dinner.”

He laughed under his breath as he finished pouring the glasses, walking back over to sit next to you on the island stools. “You’re a guest of honor.” He placed yours in front of you. “I thought it was fitting.” 

You searched, but couldn’t find the humor in his tone. You raised your eyebrows slightly. “Am I?” It was sarcastic, you needed to stop the heat in your stomach from spreading. “I didn’t know doing your job earned such a title.”

He was drinking as you spoke, finishing his sip before joking back. “You’re a doctor.” He said. “I thought you knew that better than anyone.”

You sucked air through your teeth as if wounded by his words. “Touche.” You took a sip of your drink, relishing the taste. Damn, he didn’t come to play. He laughed, and you set your glass back down. “Ok, I have to know.” He drew his attention to you. “What the hell did Jack need the day to prepare for?” The question had been on your mind since he asked you.

He took a drink, chuckling with a mouthful then swallowing so he could reply. “He actually helped cook most of this.” He nodded towards the stove full of different dishes. “That was what he needed the day for. Time for trial and error.”

You grinned at the thought of Jack and Aaron spending the day in aprons, making sure everything turned out perfect. “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He looked back towards Jack, coloring in the living room, close enough to see but far enough to miss your discussions. “He gets nervous around you.”

That surprised you. “Why on Earth would he be nervous around me?” You took your turn looking at the boy, an idea hitting you and making you feel sick. “Wait, I didn’t do something did I?”

He looked back at you, smiling. “No, no. Nothing like that. He gets nervous because he likes you. He knows who you are to me, too, so he wants to make a good impression.”

Your mind latched onto that sentence and played it like a broken record, bouncing between your ears over and over. “Oh?” Your lips were curling up at the corners, eyebrows furrowing as you got ready to hold him to that statement. “And who might I be to you, Aaron?”

Fuck. He’d let that slip past his lips without even thinking about it. So used to being in the confidential company of his son. Good thing he used to be a lawyer and could lie his ass off. “Most of his sitters aren’t also my coworkers.” He delivered it the smoothest way he could, smiling and drinking to hopefully exude a false comfortability that he certainly wasn’t feeling.

“Mhm.” You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look sarcastic but in truth downplaying the sting you felt. What if this had been one-sided all along? You hadn’t prepped a safety guide for that.

Luckily, Jack came sprinting into the kitchen a second later, pleading with his father to eat now. Clinging to his leg and declaring how hunger was killing him by the second, dramatically threatening to wither away before your very eyes. You both shared a look, agreeing silently to put the kid out of his misery. The instinctual nature of the act hit you like a bolt of lightning. Both of you so in tune it was comical. The dinner had been lovely, and you reminded yourself to encourage Jack to keep up his cooking hobby. Maybe you could foster a professional chef. You’d talked with them both, light and the happiest you’d felt in a while. There it was, you realized. That weightless feeling you wanted to give him. You felt it in yourself too, and you could only pray it was because he felt it first. When dinner concluded, you’d help clean up while Jack resumed his coloring. His bedtime was soon, and you didn’t want him to spend his last hour washing pans. He was nearly delirious by the time 9:00 graced the clock, tired from the preparation of the day and needing to get to sleep. He’d given you a hug goodnight, thanked you for coming like the gentleman he was, and that was the last you saw of him. The rest of your time there was spent on the couch with Aaron, you both held a second glass of wine, and you noticed it manifest in the blush on his face. He was gorgeous, and you were staring. You know your eyes went to his lips a couple times as he spoke, low and rougher as the time ushered more light out of the sky. You saw his eyes slip down a few times too, this sort of unspoken, agonizing rule of look don’t touch. He’d walked you to the door, thanked you for your attendance, and then you were leaving. Sitting in your car, warm on the inside from both his presence and the anger you felt at yourself for not just kissing him. You were so incredibly needy for this - for him, and that fact just sat with you, like a raincloud constantly in a state of downpour, never letting you forget the pure fucking craving you had for him.

–

You think the start of your blackout was Morgan’s panicked voice over the speaker. You’d been stationed in your typical hut, equipped with medical gear and waiting on someone to need you. It was almost never your team in need of service, typically you were tending to an injured hostage or sometimes the unsub themselves, but never your friends. Your breath had been baited since you’d heard the gun go off. You knew the case was dealing with an aggressive attacker, you’d been expecting a fight, but nothing is ever more excruciating than waiting to hear who the shot was meant for. Derek crying out your name followed by a “get in here. Hotch is down, we need you in here.” had you ready to run the soles of your shoes down to dust just to make it in time. In time. God, in time for what? You’d ran past Emily and Rossi hauling out the unsub, anger evident in their treatment of him. How bad was it? How bad had he got him to have them acting like that?

The scene was bloody. Your brain switching off and forcing you into autopilot as you registered the pool of Hotch’s blood that Morgan was kneeling in. He was putting pressure on the wound, an attempt to stop the bleeding but it was flowing like a river. He wouldn’t make it to the hospital like this, you realized. He wouldn’t make it to the fucking hospital. You were holding his life in between your hands right now, the slightest tremor could sever that chord and you were feeling the pressure hard. Aaron was leaned against the wall, slumping down slightly which was only making the bleeding increase under the internal pressure. 

You looked at Morgan, putting on the bravest face you could muster and effectively seizing control of the situation. “Morgan.” You got his attention quickly. “On three I need you to lift him away from the wall. I need to check for an exit wound.” He just nodded, doing exactly as you’d told him when you reached three. You checked the area, finding an exit wound in nearly the same spot. It’d been a straight line. You sighed in relief. Thank fucking God. “Ok, Morgan, I need you to put pressure on the wound on his back. I’m going to stitch the front to give us the time we need for the hospital drive but I need you to hold it. You got me?” 

He nodded once. “I got it.” He moved his hand from the front to the back, Aaron wincing at the switch.

You took out the numbing cream from your pack, knowing it wouldn’t do much for a gushing bullet wound but hoping it would at least quell the sting of a needle. You took out the needle, threading it with hands frighteningly stagnant as the adrenaline gave you tunnel vision. You had to save him. “Aaron.” You looked at him as you prepped his skin for the procedure. “I’m gonna need to double stitch this, and it’s gonna hurt like hell. I need you to stay with me.” 

The man just nodded, exhaling in exhaustion. “Do it.”

You worked as quickly as possible, gaining hope as you listened to the ambulance approach. “There you go.” You said under your breath, at this point you couldn’t tell if you were reassuring him or yourself.  You looked to Morgan, who was still sealing the other injury. “Help me get him up. Keep your hand on there. These stitches are gonna give us twenty minutes tops. Hold his shoulders straight and walk quickly.” You counted again, both of you rising when you hit three, taking the man with you. The walk to the ambulance was the longest of your life. Aaron was clinging to his consciousness but you knew he was losing grip. Finally getting him to the stretcher and slamming the doors was a relief like nothing else. There was no time to debate anyone else going, you rushed him in and sat right down beside him, taking off almost immediately after. The bleeding had slowed, and your hand took the place of Morgan’s on his back. Since he was laying down, his full weight was on it, and you felt the circulation lessen more and more as it remained there. You couldn’t care less, you’d let the blood drain from your entire arm if it meant Aaron’s survival. He hadn’t passed out, which you thought was miraculous, simply walked the line of decently delirious. Groaning under his breath at every slight bump in the road. 

“Why am I always having to save you Hotchner men?” You knew now wasn’t the time to be humorous, but you would have done anything to deviate from the tears in your eyes, the ball in your throat. You finally understood why it was frowned upon to date coworkers - it should be illegal to care this much. 

“I don’t know, honey.” The pet name was the kicker, allowing a tear to break the dam and roll down your cheek as he chuckled. “You seem to be pretty damn good at it, though.” You laughed too, fighting the devastation you felt at the sight of him with the fact that he was clearly well enough to still be joking. “I should have kissed you when you came for dinner.”

Fuck. “Aaron, now is not the time.” You chuckled slightly as more tears fell. This is absurd.

“I know but-” He flinched as the ambulance hit another bump. Almost there. “I might as well say it now.” You wondered if there was genuinely something wrong with him. “You’ve been all I can think about since the moment-'' He paused to breathe slightly in exertion, you giving a disapproving look as his confession took it’s toll. “since the moment you started, you know that?”

“You are dying! Please, for the love of God, Aaron. Use this energy to prevent that from happening.” Your scolding was dramatic, but your actual concern shone brightly through your ruse of sarcasm. 

“Exactly.” He was being equally as sarcastic. How on Earth did he manage this with a rapidly declining life force. “Give a dying man a chance. How unfortunate would it be if the last thing I hear before I go out is the woman of my dreams rejecting me?”

“Jesus Christ.” You shook your head in pure amazement. This was by far the most goal oriented man you’d ever met. “I’ll let you take me out if you shut the hell up and save your energy.” He smiled, letting his head hit the reclined back of the stretcher. “After you get better.” You added, reminding him that his recovery took priority. “Deal?”

“Deal.” This was probably the most insufferable man you’d ever met. “Such a good motivator.”

Scratch that. Most insufferable man ever.

[messenger-of-babel]

Fragile Stability

Summary: Very few things could make Dick this scared, but patching up his younger sister is one of them . (Nightwing x batsis!reader)

Word Count: 1.6K

Notes: Back with Nightwing and part of this got deleted but I cannot remember where so it mustn't be that important. (On that note: I might redo and reuse this concept for some of my other works in the future with different characters, or try again if I remember what I wanted to add). Warning for blood and mentions of needles, I don't think there's any language warnings. Enjoy! xx

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"Stay with me birdie, please stay with me." Dick grits out, feet thudding against the pavement. It had been a while since Dick had needed to outrun a villain, normally grappling away and flipping over the rooftops like he had been made for it.

Except this time, he had you in his arms, tears streaked down your face as you sob at every rough jostle. "It's okay, I'm getting you to safety, just hold on. Just a little longer, sweetheart." he panted, eyes scanning for the entrance to the nearby safehouse. If he just took a few more turns and twists he could make it, getting well out of range of Black Mask's men. When he found it, he veered heavily, slipping into the abandoned warehouse and pulling the sliding door shut.

"Nightwing, reporting in." He says tensely, activating his commlink the moment he deems it safe enough. It crackles to life, the rough voice of Batman replying.

"Copy Nightwing, report."

"Birdie's been hit." he pants out, manoeuvring to the third to last shipping container at the back. punching in the code with bloodstained fingers, he frees the lock that hisses open, pulling the doors open.

"Their status?" Batman's voice grunts, but even Dick could tell the hint of panic that sat underneath. He unloops your arms from around his neck, stepping into the hidden field surgery set up. A weak LED strip light flickers on above, casting shadows over the walls as he lays you into the surgery chair. There's very little else, a few rolling drawers of medical equipment, a fridge in the back with more supplies.

"Not good." he replies, sitting on the stool beside the chair and dragging a set of drawers closer to him. "She's-she's bleeding badly. Puncture through the thigh from the explosion, a piece of rebar." he swallows thickly, mind replaying the horrid sound of your screaming filling the air once his ears had stopped ringing. "Another in the shoulder, serrated stab wound."

His hands shake as he presses on the puncture on your upper thigh, making you scream out. He winces seeing the way your face is scrunched up, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. "I'm sorry birdie, I'm so sorry." he murmurs, heart twisting painfully.

"We're sending help to your location. Red Robin is headed there now with the car, get her stable in the meantime. We'll prep the ward immediately."

Dick's head felt light, darkness floating at the edges of his sight. He swallowed, cold sweat beading at his hairline. "We…we were ambushed by Black Mask's men. This was a set up, they were ready. They're still nearby, if they find here-"

"We'll worry about the Mask." Batman cuts him off. "You know your job, keep her stable."

"We?" Dick replies, voice closing up more and more.

"Red Hood and Myself are going to pursue Black Mask. Spoiler and Robin are going to take out the rest of the men from the hideout."

Dick swallows, blinking rapidly. "I-It was just supposed to be a minor drug bust." he manages to get out. "Just get the Mask, send more people here not out there-"

"Everyone has their orders."

The tone of Batman is cold and hard, making the words Dick wants to say die on his tongue momentarily. He hesitates before speaking again. "Why are you sending everyone?" There's a small silence, before Batman's voice crackles back over the line.

"I didn't. They left before I could say anything. Now stabilise them."

Dick's well aware of the warmth on the underside of his palm, seeping into the material of his suit. His non bloodied hand comes up to stroke your face gently, wiping away the tears coming from your puffy eyes. "It hurts Nightwing," you say, voice choked with a sob. "It burns."

His heart wrenches and he nods. "Yeah, yeah its gonna burn birdie." he says. "I'm…I'm gonna make it burn a bit more, okay?" he offers you a weak, apologetic smile, hands shaking as he goes for the first drawer, pulling out a surgical needle and sutures. "We need to close it, I need to stop the bleeding." he chokes out, tears burning at his eyes as your hand grips his wrist, hearing you whine as you try to pull his hand away from the uncomfortable pressure. He folds his hand over yours, making your hand press on the wound instead. "Hold down on this." he instructs softly. "I'm going to go get something from the fridge. Nice and tight, there we go." he murmurs, getting up from beside you to hurry for the fridge.

Pulling it open he rummages around, cursing under his breath as he doesn't find what he needs and pressing his earpiece to contact Tim to bring it. He comes back to your side, face lined and worried. "Okay, bad news, sweetheart." he says, grimacing. "I don't have anything to take the edge off. We've got no painkillers left." your eyes look up at him, glossy and scared.

"It hurts Nightwing." you cry, voice trembling. "It hurts, please don't make it hurt more."

He tries to ignore the heartbreaking gaze you send him, leaning over you to tie a bandage tightly around your stabbed shoulder. You cry out, body bucking upwards. Thankfully the stab seemed to be less urgent, the knife doing less damage than it could have with the serrated edge. He searches around a little more, a flat, wooden utensil set up by the sink.

"Bite this." He says softly, coming to your side once more and slotting it in between your teeth. He hates the way that your eyes look up at him all glassy, brimming with unshed tears. You shake your head, making him bring his hands up to cradle your face. "Hey, hey sweetheart, shhhh. shhh..." he tries to soothe, your chest beginning to tremor with muffled sobs. He plasters a fake smile onto his face, hoping that you can't see his teeth clenched tight.

He sits on the stool next to you, moving your hand over the thigh wound so he can look at it. His hands feel numb seeing how much blood you've lost, and he has to snap himself back into it. He peels off his gloves, shake in his fingers now prominent as he grabs tweezers and the sutures.

Stabilise you. That's all he has to do. Till he can get you back to the infirmary.

Despite the steady breaths he takes to calm himself, they're ripped from his throat the second the needle pierces your skin. The wooden spatula falls from your mouth as your mouth splits impossibly wide, eyes scrunched up as you scream. He has to lean over you, forearms keeping you pressed to the chair while he desperately pleads for you to stay still. He can see how much it burns, the way you hiccup after every breathless sob. He hates it, hating how after each pull of the suture through your skin your face ripples with pain. Each stitch he makes stabs at his heart.

It was supposed to be simple.

He grits his teeth, trying to not let himself cry. This was supposed to be an easy mission, it was your first after all. Sure, Bruce was hesitant to let his daughter run around in a costume fighting bad guys. He had wanted you, his unspoken favourite, to live a peaceful life. However, when you expressed interest in the night life, Dick had vouched for you. He offered to be the one to take you out on your first mission, spent countless hours with Bruce in the cave training you. You were meant to come home with scrapes on your knees and a rip in your suit. Not here in a dingy downtown shipping container having a needle shoved through your skin repeatedly.

This was his fault.

Your screams ring so loud in his head that he forgets what the sound of your laugh is like, the irritated huffs you make when you and Tim discuss entrance exams. "D-Dickie..." you sob weakly, hand pushing lightly against his. "Di-Dickie. St-stop…please. Puh-please stop…" you sob, a wispy sound as your eyes scrunch up again. He doesn’t care that you called him by his real name. After all, it was Dick Grayson that had failed you as an older brother. Not Nightwing.

His vision tunnels as he continues to stitch despite your whimpers and sobs, hands shaking so badly it takes him twice as long as he expects to even get halfway. Right now, you weren't just the next Batgirl. You weren't just another spandex clad orphan standing next to Bruce. Right now you were his little sister, the same one he'd spend movie nights with and let hide in his room to cool off when you were mad at Bruce.

When he finally finishes and ties it off, the tools clatter from his hands. He leans forward on to his knees, breath struggling to make it into his lungs. He felt lightheaded, everything feeling like it was burning. His hand managed to feel for your limp one, thumb sliding over your wrist to feel your slow pulse. His other hand pinched the domino mask from his face, letting it clatter to the floor as he wiped his eyes. he didn't even pay attention to the calling of Red Robin through the com, letting him know that he was pulling up right outside. He let himself take a few shaky sobs, fingers digging the tears from his eyes and splattering onto the discarded mask under him.

He wasn’t Nightwing right now.

He was Dick Grayson, the older brother who put you on death's door.

[ryuucam]

SHAKE YOUR HIPS!

⋆｡𖦹°‧ nsfw hcs for the u-20 captain :p but in alphabetical order

contains bf!aiku, blackcat!reader hehe, breeding, cockwarming, size difference, scent kink, panty sniffing, corruption, phone sex, voyeurism, daddy kink, slight public sex, anal and watersports mentioned once, oral (m and f receiving), threesome, lots of pet names, he is ooc but a girl can dream

notes he’s so fine I NEED HIM omg.. this is.. kind of self ship coded but what can we do .. reqs are open

a, aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

oliver has intense stamina, as expected from one of the top soccer players in japan, but even he feels exhausted after sex. still, he’s the ever so reliable team captain, so you best believe he’ll look out for you. sometimes, he’ll slip out of you, carry you to the bath and spend the next 30 minutes scrubbing your body clean (unsurprisingly sneaking in some squeezes to your tits), then dry you and dress you up personally. some other times, when he’s feeling lazy, he stays buried in your heat, letting his cock soften inside you, keeping you stuffed full of his cum. you can whine all you want, but it’s not exactly easy to move when you have a muscle monster sprawled on top of you. either way, he’s nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, peppering kisses on your skin until you fall asleep (or he does).

b, body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

hmm, kind of hard to tell. he loves touching, squeezing, tickling every part of your body. buuuut, he can’t deny he loves your boobs. oliver feels like flying each time he sees your tits jiggle when you jump or walk, given that you’re usually way too shy to purposefully show off your body. he loves how soft they are, regardless of their size, but he just gets a little bit more aroused when his hands struggle to grab all of your mounds. even if it’s not frequently, sometimes he likes to suck on them, sexually or not, finding comfort in the feeling. seriously, he loves it all, boobjobs, paizuri, nipple sucking, push up bras… give him a pair of tits and he’s a happy man.

for him, it’s kind of hard to tell as well. on one hand, he likes his eyes, since it was so easy to draw you in thanks to them. on the other, he likes his muscles: his biceps, his thighs, his chest… he’s just way bigger than you, and aiku has to admit that he gets a sick kick from watching you squirm and shy away when he pressed his body against yours.

c, cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

his cum is thick, overwhelming, sticky, making it hard to swallow (exactly what arouses him the most). it spurts out in fat globes, slowly dripping down his length. it’s white, almost a pearly color.

aiku likes his cum on your body. well, a good breeding session is not something he’ll say no to, but seeing in on your body just makes him hard again. he likes painting your tits, a shit eating grin on his face whenever he sees your pretty nipples all covered by it. he likes staining your thighs white, and likes seeing it drip down to your folds. speaking of your pussy, he likes cumming on it, rather than in it. the way it twitches when the warm fluid slips in is a sight aiku wants to see until the day he dies.

d, dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

gets off on how shy you are. disgustingly so. every little thing you do, be it stretching, having a lollypop in your mouth, licking something, gets his cock hard and leaking within seconds. huge corruption guy. almost came in his pants when he saw your cleavage for the first time, and actually came when you let him touch you for the first time (not even sex, just groping your clothed tits. pathetic). hmm, i also think he has a thing for scent, especially the scent of your cunny that lingers on your used panties, which he promptly slips in his pockets (and when he gives them back, there’s a 50/50 chance that they’re either squeaky clean, folded and right in your panty drawer, or they’re stuffed with cum and left as a gift on your bed).

e, experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

50/50 that he’s a virgin. i saw some people saying that he acts all tuff but he still hasn’t fucked anyone (definitely gotten a few blowjobs here and there, and fingered some girls, just to get some experience). or, he’s not, has had way too many one night stands that he’s not used to lovemaking, making him all shy and red when he fucks you for the first time. either way, your first time together will be something he holds very close to his heart.

f, favorite position (this goes without saying)

hmm, depends on the day. most of the time he likes missionary, mating press if he’s feeling frisky, call him basic but he likes seeing your face. be it because he loves you and wants to feel as intimate as he can, or because he just likes the fucked out face you make when he thrusts into you. likes kissing you during sex, and since he’s gross he also loves sucking on your tongue, the more spit, the better. when he’s feeling tired from particularly hard practice, though, he likes making you ride him. tits out, thighs burning from the ache, body on full display for him - aiku just sits back and enjoys the show you’re putting on for him. in a cowgirl position, you get even shyer and red in the face, so bonus points for that!! plus, his cock feels even thicker like this. win-win, right?

g, goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

the first time you had sex, he did his best to not seem too imposing, afraid to scare his sweetheart away. with time, he lets loose a little, cracking small jokes, letting out breathy laughs when you whine too much, soft smiles when you cry. oliver can be a tease, rubbing your clothed clit until you soak your panties, or can be a love smitten fool, letting out soft i love yous when he cums inside of you.

h, hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

HAPPY TRAIL!!!!! dark hair, similar to the blue-black hair on his head. he trims it, so it’s not too untamed and makes his privates look more clean and appealing. shaves almost every part of his body, except for his fuck ass stubble, so don’t worry about telling him anything. aiku will NOT let go of the happy trail though, especially since he has accidentally exposed it once during a match. he spent the rest of the evening looking at the tweets of people thirsting over it, and decided to keep it unshaven in hopes to woo you.

i, intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

before you, he was the n1 one night stand warrior, occasionally having some friends with benefits, but nothing worth getting all emotional over. after you, aiku fell in love with more intimate sessions. call him a sap, but nothing compares to dimmed lights, low volume music in the background, and the soft sounds you make when he touches you. during those times, he doesn’t worry about anything else but you, your body, your pleasure. soft rubs on your clit, slow strokes of his digits in your cunny, while he gently sucks on your tits, cock prodding at your thighs. he’s completely encapsulated by you, barely whispering soft praises. other times, he’s just mean, fucking you into the mattress so hard that you gasp for air. still loves you though, but sometimes he just needs to fuck his stress away.

j, jack off (masturbation headcanon)

doesn’t do it as often as when he was single, but still does it when he’s away from you for too long. before dating, he’s a bit ashamed to admit that he pumped his cock way too often to the thought of you, always shooting thick ropes of cum from imagining what kind of panties you were wearing that day, how your hand would feel wrapped around him, or any other lewd thing he could get his mind to think about. now, he only jerks off as a last resort if he can’t have you, but his cock’s too stubborn to go down. he calls you, panting in your ear about how he’s so fucking hard, baby, and how he misses your pretty pussy so much. if it’s a video call, he begs you to show him your boobs, your cunny, whatever it is to keep him going, but he knows you get shy, so he’ll just act like he doesn’t hear the squelching sounds of your poor cunt.

k, kinks (one or more of their kinks)

freak!! anyways … he def has a thing for size difference, as i’ve said before, he loves how bigger he is compared to you. no matter your height, weight, it’s kind of hard to not be smaller than a 190cm tall soccer player. he likes seeing the bulge his cock forms when he’s fucking you, and gets impossibly harder when you notice it too and get even more embarrassed.

loves pet names, especially those that take a while to come out of your mouth because they’re “too embarrassing, oli..”. so he just has to reward you when you finally call him daddy. he thinks he’s a bit sick in the head but hearing your soft voice saying daddy, ‘s too much just makes him cum faster and harder. anything for his sweet girl. (also likes any variation of the pet name. dada is a close second but you never say that unless you’re already going dumb on his dick).

l, location (favorite places to do the do)

has probably fucked you on every surface of his apartment. he likes all of them, because each location is, in his mind, appropriate for a different mood. cuddles-turned-sex? couch, or even better, living room floor. against a wall? shower, so he can cum in you every time he wants without having to worry about cleaning up after (lazy ass. leave him girl). something more domestic? lazy fucking with you sprawled out on the kitchen counter when you just wanted to make breakfast.

outside of the house, he’s not so sure. it’s risky, and while he doesn’t mind someone taking a look, he knows you won’t. so he sticks to quickies in public bathroom stalls (don’t worry, he’s covering your mouth the entire time), buuut there have been multiple occasions where he made you ride him in the locker room before and/or after a game. who cares if sendou’s right outside the door? let him hear.

m, motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

he gets off on how much more inexperienced you are than him. likes your shyness, your soft pleas, your hands swatting his away when he’s being a perv (according to you. to him, he’s just being a loving boyfriend. different perspectives). aiku loves ruining you, leaving his mark onto you, seeing you all fucked out in his bed because of his cock. he also likes when you take the lead: it’s rare, but it does happen. lingerie (or any kind of underwear, really, he loves all of it. cotton, silk, ribbons, push ups…), unprompted nudes, you tugging at the hem of his shirt when you’re just too needy and can’t wait anymore. on the same note, he likes having you work for him to fuck you: thigh riding, clumsily playing with the zipper of his pants… he loves his pillow princess, but there’s just something so lewd about having you being so desperate that he gets hard instantly.

n, no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

anything that’s too gross, or is dangerous for you. i’m thinking scat, extreme puppy play (the kind where people are actually going outside on all fours, and with a leash - he likes calling you puppy, kitty, sometimes even mutt when he’s feeling mean, but that’s it). heavy bdsm, pain play… he likes spanking your cunny sometimes but he never goes further. hell, he could even get into watersports but even that’s way too extreme for him. but he probably likes anal - he swears he’ll tell you one day.

o, oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

doesn’t he canonly like blowjobs? he loves having you all pretty on your knees, big doe eyes staring at him. aiku doesn’t mind if you can’t take his whole cock, just watching you suckling and kissing and messily licking his fat tip is enough. he can’t ask too much from his sweet girl, right? that’s why he also enjoys eating you out every once in a while, giggling against your hole when you whine because his stubble is tickling you. when he’s the one giving, he’s ruthless, latching himself onto your clit and never stopping until you’ve came at least two or three times.

p, pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

can be both! it mainly depends on how you’re feeling that day. most of the time, he likes slow, heavy sessions in the mornings to wake you up, and fast, long sessions at nighttime to put you to sleep. as long as he’s sticking his cock into you, he doesn’t care.

q, quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

as i’ve said in letter l, he’s into them when you guys aren’t home. he always makes you cum though - can’t have you walk away with no orgasm. sometimes, he’ll just cum in you and make you keep it inside (he’ll check when you get home so be sure to not let his cum slip away <3). hmm, also likes himself a quickie before you have to leave for an event: he can’t control himself when you’re looking so sexy with a night dress and high heels, especially since those aren’t clothes he sees you in often.

r, risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

just shoot him at this point. simply put, he doesn’t care: he’s willing to put on a show for other people, so long as they aren’t complete strangers. in more than one occasion he has cupped your cunny under the table, knowing that poor sendou was looking at you. gets off in letting other people know that you’re his, but no one is allowed to touch you, to taint you except for him. aiku shows off hickeys, marks, the strip of condoms in his soccer bag… he doesn’t mind. of course, he only enjoys risk if he’s the one at risk: he doesn’t want to embarrass you, or expose you to anyone else. you’re his girl, no one else’s.

s, stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

a lot: nothing to be unexpected from one of the best soccer players in japan. two to three rounds are the average, with little rest time in between (what can he say, he loves your body), but he secretly wants to try marathon sex on a day off. if the session you’re having is emotionally heavier than most, it’s possible for him to only last one round, the emotional toll being too much for him: it happened on your first time, and after one of the talks you guys have had about his past, pouring your hearts out, soft kisses and fat tears being the only communication device (im actually thinking about writing something about this).

t, toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

yes, but probably not so many. a vibrator for you, the kind that attaches itself to your clit and just suckles on it for hours on end: aiku probably isn’t fond of penetration-like toys, he’s confident in his dick game and he doesn’t want any sort of silicone cocks or vibrators in you. definitely has nipple clamps tho, stimming from the fact that i think he’s a boob guy. they’re hidden nice and safe in the box under his bed, and he only takes them out for the times he really wants to see you sob. for himself, he doesn’t have many. he probably had a pocket pussy somewhere, but he threw it out the second he started getting into you (it just didn’t compare to the thought of you).

u, unfair (how much they like to tease)

he lives for it. aiku loves hearing you talk and ask for what you want. most of the time, he’ll be your sweet, nice oli and just fuck you senseless without having your pretty head worry about saying too much. there are times, though, when he just needs to hear his pretty girl talk, ask for what she wants and all that (“you’ve gotta tell me what ya want, angel, i can’t read your mind” “you want my cock? where? show me, cutie.”). you’re embarrassed? all the better for him: he’ll rub his cock against your puffy folds for hours, waiting for you to suck it up and talk. he has all day.

v, volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

i don’t think he’s the type to moan or whimper unfortunately </3 maybe did that once or twice when he first sank his cock into you. aiku is more like a groaner, definitely lets out some sighs when your walls get tighter. that doesn’t mean he’s quiet, of course not. you really should sew his mouth shut (or gag him - he prefers your panties as a gag but he can’t ask too much) because he won’t shut up! he’s always talking, either about how you’re so tight angel, you’re gonna squeeze me to death today, or you like when i play with your tits like this? you’re gonna let me suck on ‘em too, right? bet ya’d like that, baby, you’re just as nasty as i am. you’re just a little perv.

w, wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

aiku is, surprisingly, down for a threesome. however, he’s heard one too many stories of threesomes ruining relationships, so he’d much prefer to do it with one of his friends, people he trusts a lot. probably sendou, given that aiku gets a kick out of teasing him (we’ve all seen s2. let’s not lie to ourselves rn), and that sendou may have a teeny tiny crush on you, he thinks he’d be the best candidate. another thing that helps aiku’s case is that him and sendou are so different - your boyfriend can allow himself to be a little bit meaner, to push you a little bit further, while his best friend is nothing short of a gentleman, rubbing your tits and your clit and peppering kisses all over your face. hm, that’d be nice. he should probably ask sendou what he’d think about getting a round with his girlfriend.

x, x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

i know everyone says this but there’s no way this guy isn’t hung - there has to be a reason as why he’s had more flings than anyone else on his team combined. his cock is big, to say the least, definitely longer than average. what’s the most intimidating part of it, though, is his girth. it’s thick, almost worryingly so, and it stuffs you nice and well, making it easy for a bulge to appear on your stomach each time he’s inside you. the color of the shaft it pretty close to his skin color, getting redder and darker around the tip. circumcised? probably, and probably has a fat tip, meaning that even fucking just the tip into you is a piece of work (has done that before). your hands probably can’t wrap the whole way around his length, and your mouth can’t either, but you’re lucky he gets off by that.

y, yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

once a day, and he’s a happy man. but, he knows that it’s unrealistic: you have college, work, well, your own life, and he’s the team captain and unfortunately has way more meetings with his coaches and sponsors than he’d like. as much as he’d like to send you out of the door in the morning with a few orgasms under your belt, or cuddle-fuck you when you’re watching a shitty movie, or make love to you until you’re sleeping, aiku knows that it happens less than he’d like. not to say you guys never have sex, but it’s not really and every day occurrence. as said in letter j, he results to jerking off to your pictures if you’re too far away. he always gets what he wants in the end, even if he’d much rather have his cum stain your insides rather than a tissue in his hotel room.

z, zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

dead asleep after he makes sure you’re all okay. seriously, you should check his pulse every once in a while. unrelated but this dude snores sometimes. anyways, if it’s late at night, he just cleans you up (maybe another quick fuck in the shower), and throws himself on top of you in bed - he’s sprawled across your body, burying you under all of his stupid muscles, at least keeping you warm all night. when he isn’t feeling so murderous, aiku is just as happy to be the bigger spoon, sometimes abusing this position to sneak in some boob squeezes (and to rub his hard on on your ass in the morning). if it’s morning, well, he still cleans you up, but unfortunately he can’t go back to sleep. at least he has something to look forward too during the day, though.

[yanderambling]

omg i’m thrilled that y’all like him so much!!! and these ideas were soso tasty ugh your minds~ i had a lot of fun with this, maybe too much if you look at the wc lol, so i hope y’all enjoy <3 ALSO continuity note: since Adrian is so popular, i won't carry major events through different stories unless requested, that way everyone can have their own version of his story! but i'll be keeping general facts about Adrian the same unless otherwise specified, like his parents being rich because i find it funny~ thank you and goodnight <3 (and yes i switched this gif with the last part shhhh it’s okay)

pairing: Masochist Puppyboy!Yandere(m) x Bully!Reader(gn)

words: ~ 4.6k

you can read the previous part here!

CW: 18+, NSFW, yandere behavior, stalking, bullying, physical/verbal abuse, BDSM themes, poor BDSM etiquette but neither party minds

Adrian nearly choked when he heard his name read next to yours for the school project.

It took you a second to recognize his; you mostly just call him mutt. Once you realized, you loudly groaned at the prospect of spending the week with that pest.

Adrian couldn’t hear it over his racing heart.

As soon as class lets out, he's right at your side, yammering on about project materials and meeting arrangements and times and "we should really meet at one of our houses so we don't have to worry about distractions, I'm fine with coming to yours! It's closer to school anyway, right? It'll be more private- I just think it makes sense-"

You finally shut him up by making the executive decision that you’ll work at his house (you don’t need him shedding on your furniture, or potentially getting any personal ammunition against you; he is way too interested in being inside your home, and how does he know it’s closer to school?).

Adrian was crestfallen that he wouldn’t get to go in your house (and smell the pure you imbued in your furniture, and pretend he’s really your dog while you sit together- maybe in your bedroom!-, and snoop through your underwear drawer when you go to the bathroom, and snoop through your bathroom when he goes in right after you...), but he was still over the moon at the idea of having you in his space.

(He’ll just visit your window later tonight like usual, anyway- he'll still get high off that closeness alone. Win/win!)

Adrian doesn't think about anything else for the rest of the day, zoning through his classes and plastered to your side whenever he gets the chance, just alight with energy and anticipation and not shutting up about it- he's lucky there's too many witnesses for you to knock him quiet (oh, but he would feel so much luckier if you did).

You would totally bail on this project if you weren’t already failing this class, which is mostly on account of you bailing. You’re wondering if all those cut classes were worth having to work with this, but you’re not feeling hopeful.

The day seems to drag on forever for both of you, for vastly different reasons. By the time school lets out, Adrian is buzzing out of his skin and you're seconds away from ripping it off him.

As you two start the trek to his place, Adrian can't get over how surreal it feels to walk beside you. It's like you two are a couple, and you're walking him home for an after school study date!

He gets lost in the daydream easily, giving you a brief reprieve from his energy, and allowing you to absently notice his rapidly wagging tail almost propelling him down the sidewalk. You can't help but smirk a little at the image that conjures in your mind.

He's truly ridiculous, you can't really believe him sometimes. Doesn't that thing ever get tired? What does he think is gonna happen that's got him so damn excited? That he's gonna get in good with you somehow (hopefully) and you'll leave him alone? (never in his wildest dreams.)

Yeah, fat chance.

When Adrian stops at his house, you think he's joking. But then he walks right up the driveway of this random McMansion, motioning you along eagerly, and enters a security code before holding the door open for you with a clearly anticipatory smile.

...The fuck.

You did not count on Adrian’s family being loaded. He certainly doesn't dress or groom like it.

You consider berating him for not mentioning it, but decide against it for the risk of seeming stupid- to Adrian of all people. You do make a mental note for your future errand requests, though.

Adrian’s parents aren’t home, he tells you his mom is always traveling and his dad basically lives at his office. You’re relieved that you won’t have to put on a nice face for the folks, but there’s apparently still a live-in housekeeper that floats around (are you fucking kidding?) so you stay diligent.

Adrian suggests you two work in his room; you figure the further from watchful eyes, the better.

Despite it being his idea, Adrian can't help his giddy nervousness as you enter his room (he’d texted the housekeeper to make sure it was clean as soon as you decided to come over, lucky he keeps his souvenirs hidden away whenever he’s not admiring them).

The room is frankly ridiculous, easily twice the size of yours, a king bed in the corner, a desk and coffee table and two dressers, and yet adorned with piles of clothes and clutter and more genres of nerdy shit than you even knew existed.

"Yeah, okay, parts of this make sense."

Adrian cocks his head, opening his mouth to ask what you mean, when he suddenly chokes on air.

You've made a bee-line right to his desk, covered in books and papers for hobbies and school alike, but also holding a locked drawer at the very bottom in which he keeps his "school collection" (just discarded pencils with bitten erasers, torn up notebook paper he can still smell your hands on, old gym shorts you were probably gonna replace soon anyway, a bandaid here, a plastic fork there; nothing crazy).

He watches with bated breath as you sift through the contents of his desk, occasionally scoffing or chuckling at what you find. He lets out a sigh when you seem to grow bored, just for you to move on to his dresser and have his stomach doing somersaults all over again.

Maybe he should've asked the housekeeper to hide his stuff better and just braved the questions later...

You move throughout the room like you own it (you do, as far as the both of you are concerned), making little jabs at his various posters and figurines which make his whole body flush hot with pleasure because you're noticing things about him, but every other move you make sends his heart jumping into his throat in a completely different way.

It only takes a minute or two for the stress to get to him.

“Ah- hey! Uh, maybe we should- maybe we should start on the project, right?”

You bark a laugh and spin on your heel to face him, an incredulous half-grin pulling your lips and revealing a gut-twisting flash of teeth.

"We?"

Oh, yeah, he much prefers those intense eyes boring into him.

He starts spluttering placations immediately. "No! Well, uhm, I didn't mean- you, you don't- have to- obviously, I mean, I don't- I wouldn't-"

You roll your eyes and shove past him, effectively cutting him off as you flop down onto his abominably soft mattress. "Right, yeah, whatever. Let's get one thing straight here, okay?"

Adrian nods, his whole being drawn to focus at your entrancingly commanding tone. Although, it's incredibly hard to focus on anything with the sight of you on his bed right in front of him; he's already planning how to avoid that area so it'll retain your scent longer, he wonders if he could cut that part of the duvet out and keep it in an airtight container, maybe the sheets under it too just to be safe...

"This is not a "we" situation, got it? I'm not lifting a damn finger for this bullshit, that's what you're there for." Adrian has a purpose to you! "I am only here to make sure you're actually doing it, which shouldn't be a problem because if we get anything less than an A, it's gonna be your ass."

As tempting as it is to see what punishment you would inflict upon him, Adrian really really really wants to please you- and he's pretty good at this subject anyway!

You then cross your arms and lean back just enough to look down your nose at him. "Got it?"

Adrian can't answer fast enough.

"Yes! Yes, that's perfect! Awesome, good- great!"

But then he doesn’t make a move. Ha.

He looks a little lost, standing in the middle of his own room, barely biting down a grin and wringing his hands as he seems to wait for another command.

Apparently, you’ve trained him well.

You scoff and let yourself fall onto your back as you pull out your phone (Adrian's gonna need a bigger airtight container).

"Well, go on then, we don't have all day."

Adrian scrambles to get to work. He quickly positions himself on the floor by the foot of the bed and pulls the coffee table closer, emptying his school bag carelessly onto the carpet.

You huff a laugh at the sight, all this money and the kid's parents couldn't buy him any class. Maybe sloppiness is an inherent trait, like his apparent passion for service- nobody with this much money should be such a pushover. And yet...

Adrian couldn’t be happier, sitting on the floor while you lounge across his bed and periodically weigh in with (mostly incorrect) corrections or snide remarks, an almost alarmingly wide grin settled on his face as his tail taps a steady rhythm against his carpet.

It’s not an unpleasant picture, you muse absently as you look up from your phone, it’s almost comforting to have your little puppy on the floor, cheerily working away for you while you laze about. It certainly beats doing the work yourself, or having to threaten a student with an actual spine to do it for you.

Still, it doesn't take long for you to get bored. Bored enough to notice your empty stomach, at least.

"I'm hungry."

Adrian's head shoots up from the book he was hunched over, ears raised at attention and eyes glittering with something you're not sure you care to identify.

He's on his feet in the next second, knocking his knees on the way up loud enough to startle you yet showing no signs of even noticing.

"I-I'll ask Len to make something!"

He darts out of the room before you can tell him what you want, but you trust he knows your moods and tastes well enough by this point to predict. (Oh, he does, and Len's not going to be making anything- they don't know all the special ingredients!)

The second he leaves, you decide to really cure your boredom by snooping around in earnest. Certainly this creep has something actually weird hidden in here, you just have to look in the right places.

You waste no time in sifting through his bookshelf (nerd shit), closet (nerd clothes, some dirty), a dresser (nerd clothes, mostly clean), under his bed (dirty clothes, nerd shit in boxes)- the door opens behind you.

“Wha-? Oh! Ah- Wh-what- what are you doing?”

You don’t even bother moving from your crouch, most of your upper body shoved under the bedstand while the rest of you... is not.

Adrian’s mouth is completely dry for several reasons.

“What’re you, blind? I’m snooping.”

Adrian slowly comes further into the room, hesitantly setting the serving tray on the low table. He can’t stop his voice from cracking as he stutters out,

“Uh- yeah, okay, yeah, but- um, would you maybe mind- um, not?”

You snicker, at least he has some manners. “Yeah, I do mind, actually. What’s the matter, mutt? Got something to hide?”

“N-no!”

The answer is so immediate, so fervent, that it has you pulling up just to give him an unimpressed look. He stares back at you, eyes wide and frenzied.

“Jesus you’re a bad liar.”

Looking at him now, you can see sweat glistening on his face and his hands clenching by his side. His eyes dart toward the dresser you haven't checked yet.

Bingo.

You jump up from your position and stride across the room with purpose. You only make it a few steps before Adrian seems to materialize in front of you, making you stop short and almost yelp from shock.

“S-sorry! I’m sorry, I just-" he's waving his hands wildly, head ducked as his gaze rapidly flicks between your face and the floor, "You-you can’t- please, please don’t-”

“Okay, creep, I get the gist.”

You shove past him, and he wishes he could relish the firm pressure of your hands on him.

He whirls around and watches in horror as you approach the dresser. He needs to do something, he needs to stop you, but what can he do? You’ve clearly made up your mind, it’s not like it's his place to try and change it...

All he can do is watch, a high ringing in his ears and his body filling with static, while you meticulously sift through every drawer until his clothes are strewn about the floor and you're panting with frustration.

He's about to let himself take a breath when you suddenly squat down and stick your arm into the shallow space underneath. He nearly swallows his tongue when you let out a disbelieving huff and awkwardly slide out a long lockbox.

You look up at him triumphantly, eyes sparkling with glee, and he almost mirrors your smile just for how captivating it is.

"Open it."

"N-no-"

You lean up toward him and cock your head, he has to stop himself from being drawn in by the magnetism of your narrowed eyes. “The fuck did you just say to me?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't- just, I can't-"

"Oh, I think you can. Or you're not gonna like what happens next."

That's where you're wrong, and it only really strengthens Adrian's extremely shaky resolve. He tries to keep the grin off his face as he habitually starts to picture the punishment you might give him; a cuff on the ears, a knee to the stomach, a punch in the face-

But you just roll your eyes and groan, no longer in the mood now that something more interesting has presented itself.

Instead, your gaze floats down to the flimsy looking combination lock on the box, then it fixes on some heavy-standed figurine you'd knocked off his bookshelf earlier.

Yeah, good enough.

Adrian barely has time to flinch before you're snatching it up and breaking the lock with a sound crack.

Then you're lifting the lid.

"No!"

He starts to lunge forward, but your sharply raised hand halts him dead in his tracks.

Fuck.

It's too late anyway, judging by your wide eyes and slightly slack jaw (god how he wishes he could focus on the glorious curve of your open lips, or the way your perfect teeth peek over them, or how it might feel to have those teeth sunk into his skin-)

"What. The. Fuck."

"I-I can explain- It's not-!"

"I literally do not believe that you can."

Adrian's throat goes dry, he feels tears welling in his eyes. "I'm sorry- I'm sorry! I never meant- it's not like-"

You tune Adrian out as you focus on the stacks and stacks of photos arranged in the box before you. There even seem to be books underneath those, thick ones despite the shallowness of the container. You’d say there’s easily hundreds of pictures in here.

But, more concerning than the amount of photos… is their content.

They’re all you.

Undeniable, from every angle and range and setting you could imagine, it’s all you. There’s you at your spot with your friends, sitting in class, in the cafeteria, running errands in town, sneaking off to that private spot nobody else is supposed to know about, asleep in your bed- in dozens and dozens of iterations, like you could probably make a flip book of every scene.

It’s offensively redundant, honestly, a gross waste of paper. Maybe equally as concerning.

(Adrian needs to keep physical copies, and hard drives, and backup hard drives, and another box further under the dresser... What if something happens to his phone? What if he lost all his treasured photos forever? He doesn’t know what he’d do.)

"You're a bigger creep than I gave you credit for." You murmur, mostly to yourself.

Adrian never thought he'd feel anything but sheer joy from hearing that word leave your mouth. "N-no! It's not- it's not like that! I'm not- I don't-"

While Adrian's still blustering and working himself into a tizzy, you're just... processing.

It's oddly unsurprising, once you consider all the other factors together. Looking at it now, of course Adrian had more perverted reasons for complying to your cruelty, what else could he have been getting out of it? You guess you kinda always knew, on some level, but you never thought it would be like this.

But, since it is, you can't help but wonder just how far this perversion has gone, how far it will go...

This night has been boring enough that you're entitled to a little fun, right?

And besides, looking at him now- all wide eyed and droopy eared, his tail pulled between his legs and clutched in his trembling hands- Adrian actually looks a little bit... cute? In a pathetic, dirty stray caught in the rain type of way, of course.

The only real difference is that you'd be much kinder to the stray.

"Alright, shut it, stalker."

Adrian's mouth snaps closed, his tail trying to tuck further at your dangerously low voice.

"Obviously, this severe-" you flap a stack of photos at him, causing him to duck his head and whimper, "-invasion of my privacy can't go unpunished."

Adrian's eyes become impossibly bigger as they flash up to watch you stand. His ears suddenly perk, his tail tugs against his grip as it tries to hesitantly wag.

Jesus, he's shameless.

This is gonna be fun.

But first, a plan. You don't want Adrian getting too bold, so what better way to keep him in his place than by tying him there? Looking around his room, you don't have much to work with, but you're resourceful; a lace from his sneakers should do just fine (who keeps shoes in their room? what a creep).

"Alright. Sit."

Adrian is falling to his knees before his brain can process the words. When it does, he isn't quick enough to bite down on the high keen that builds in his throat.

You scoff, mentally scorning yourself for ignoring his shit for so long, then go to pull a lace. Adrian watches in rapt attention as you test its strength, your hands flexing so tantalizingly as you pull the string harshly several times over.

He holds his breath on instinct when your scrutinizing glare scans the room again.

"Okay, bed. Back to the headboard. Now."

Adrian scrambles up immediately, pulling some of the sheets off in his hurry, eager to obey before you change your mind.

You follow right after, kneeling up and leaning over him to tie his hands to the headboard above him. His dry throat click as he gulps.

You're so close, your heavenly scent filling his lungs like a sweet paralyzing vapor, he can feel the heat radiating from your skin despite the clothes between you, he could probably taste you if he just stuck out his tongue...

He whines as you yank the shoelace tight with a grunt before tying it off. You tug on his hands once more, forcing the string deeper into his skin, and your hum of satisfaction is drowned out by Adrian's low groan.

What a wonderful feeling, the sharp sting of the lace grounding him down like he needs to be; he can't help twisting and pulling until the burn intensifies, imagining it's your firm hands holding him so tightly...

"Jesus, freak, you're already getting into it?"

Adrian just whimpers, barely registering the question past your condescending tone as he continues to squirm.

You suddenly grab the front of his shirt and pull him forward until he's partially hovering off the mattress, the combined pressure of your knuckles under his chin and the shoestring grating his tender wrists pulls a breathy moan along with.

You lean in close, practically growling as you say, "Don't do my job for me, mutt."

You press a relatively fresh bruise on his arm just to see him twitch and bite his lip (it’s actually from a week ago, that’s how good he is at maintaining your marks for you!). It is pretty gratifying.

Almost as gratifying as the bulge you spot between his wantonly spread legs.

A breathless laugh punches out of you. It's oddly jarring to see, and you would later deny that it's slightly impressive, but it's not an entirely unpleasant sight.

"God, you're fucking pathetic. But you know that, don't you, you little creep?"

If your words weren't enough to have Adrian shaking out of his skin, you lean closer and nip his ear; he jerks back instinctively at the pain, which only makes its sting so much sweeter when you sink your teeth in and pull back.

He doesn’t bother trying to keep himself quiet.

“This isn’t even a punishment for you, is it? Is it, you fucking perv?”

Adrian is so far beyond saving face, he’s mostly beyond communication of any kind, so he just shakes his head fervently and grunts and hopes it’s good enough.

“Use your words, mutt.”

He gasps as you yank his throbbing ear, pulling his face closer to yours- oh dear god he can feel your hot breath against his cheeks, every detail of your perfect face so confident and dangerous and ethereal, your sparkling eyes look positively deadly and Adrian is ready to submit himself to their perils-

“Answer me," your sharp words make his lashes flutter, but he keeps his eyes wide open to stare at your taunting smile hanging just inches from his face, "are you getting off on this?”

He nods, he’s starting to get dizzy with all this nodding but he doesn't feel capable of much else, then you tug his hair back with the most glorious burn-

“Ah-Yes! Yes, I love- I love it, please- give me- more- please, I need- I need-“

He cuts off with a choked sound as your fingers slide up his throat and tighten, all too happy to oblige.

"That what you want? You happy now?" You taunt, your breath against the shell of his ear raising goosebumps all over his body.

He tries to nod against your grip, causing you to smirk and push further.

Oh god yes please-

Garbled moans fight their way from his throat as his eyes roll back in ecstasy, his straddled legs pressing tightly together as he thrashes desperately against the headboard, his whole body trembling and pushing up and up in search of contact- but you keep pulling away, putting more pressure on his neck to support yourself, bringing out the most pitiful little whimpers.

"Use your words, puppy."

Puppy.

Adrian chokes for reasons entirely unrelated to your hand on his neck. His tail, which had been beating a rapid tempo since you sat him down, starts flailing into overdrive.

It takes considerably more effort, but Adrian needs to please you- maybe you’ll even reward him!- so he coughs and gasps until he can force out,

"Y-Yes,” a strained cough, “Tha-agh-thank- you-"

A smile curls your lips unbidden. Such initiative! You let your fingers stroke over his throat as your hand presses in harder.

"There, that's a good boy."

Adrian's vision whites out.

He’s not even aware of the stream of whines and moans that force their way from beneath your fingers, he doesn't notice how his body squirms against the pressure of you on top of him, he couldn't tell the frantic thumping of his tail from that of his heart- all he can focus on is the red hot ecstasy filling every inch of him to bursting, the transcendent bliss of being so thoroughly claimed, so completely controlled, so wholly owned by you.

He's still hiccupping moans and thumping his tail when you withdraw your hand for fear of suffocating him, these needy little noises escaping his already bruising throat.

His head lolls back and his mouth falls open as you remain suspended above him, taking in your handiwork.

He’s so vulnerable, his entire body open and happily exposed to you, every muscle trembling in the aftershocks. His chest heaves as sweat and tears drip down onto his shirt, but he seems to pay no mind as his vacant eyes flutter up at you. He struggles to keep them open as a dopey grin spreads across his bitten lips, and you have to bite your own to stop from returning it.

Then, your eyes travel down to the steadily shrinking tent of his pants, now adorned with a dark wet stain- just like you expected.

Hot.

"Pathetic."

You sit back on you heels, seemingly alerting Adrian to your absence as his hand flies up to grab his throat with a high whine- but you cut that shit off right away.

"Yeah, no, I'm not trying to catch a murder charge tonight, thanks. Besides," your eyes pointedly flick down between his spread legs, causing his face to heat up though he makes no move to close them, "it looks like you got more than your share- frankly, you should be grateful for anything I'm willing to give you."

Adrian's voice is hoarse when he tries to insist, "I am! I-" he cuts off with a heavy cough, which only has you wincing with guilt a little. "I'm- I'm grateful. I am!"

You don't doubt it, especially looking into those watery, red-rimmed puppydog eyes of his. However, you do like to be cruel, and you did just get a bunch of texts from some of your friends about this 'super crazy thing you don't wanna miss and you gotta get down here right now!', (and you're maybe feeling a little uncharacteristically giddy as you fully process your situation) so...

"Doesn't matter, I can't reward this insolence."

You untie the shoelace with a deft tug and slide off the bed without another word.

Adrian just barely stops himself from whining again, the sudden loss of the pressure around his wrists leaving him feeling untethered. He has to dig his nails into his hands as he watches you collect your things (the covered platter lay forgotten on the table, insult to injury), just to keep from reaching out for you.

He wants desperately to follow you, but he can't make his body move for how relaxed and heavy it feels, and he knows it would probably just upset you more anyway- and not in the good way.

“Oh, and Adrian?” You slap the doorframe as you hang off of it, and your use of his name has Adrian's groggy head springing up to face you instantly, ears high and eyes hopeful.

“Next time you want a picture of me, just ask. That way I can knock some sense into you right away.” You tap the frame again, a crooked grin fixing your lips before you push off.

“See ya tomorrow!”

Still too fuzzy to move, and in fresh shock from that almost-genuine smile, he can only listen forlornly as your steps grow fainter and fainter until the door shuts downstairs. Then, he's helpless to do anything beyond replay the events of the past ten minutes in obsessive detail in attempts to permanently document every single sensation you gave to him.

He only manages to move about a half hour later, when his phone buzzes with a text.

He slowly leans over the bed and lifts his phone from the floor, blinking blearily as he reads... your name. Attached to a ludicrously extravagant lunch order for tomorrow.

The phone drops from his fingers like lead.

How?

His heart starts racing as he wracks his brain to recall when you put his number in your phone- then, his tail starts up again as he wonders if he'll be punished for already having yours in his (not for anything weird! he just likes to type out walls of text complimenting every part of you and telling you exactly the ways he wants you to destroy him and then deleting them- but maybe he'll send the next one).

It must mean something good if you want to keep in close contact with him, right? That must mean you aren't really mad at him, right? That must mean you like him, right? You still think he’s a good boy, right?

Another text lights up his phone. He scrambles to grab it back, hands shaking as he holds the screen close to his face.

[ur gnna b my bitch 4evr now]

A shaky giggle escapes him.

Those are easily the most beautiful words he’s ever read.

thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3

check my pinned post~

[ryomens-vixen]

420 w/ 90s Toji

CW: Toji himself is enough warning, rough sex, car sex, gun play, ass eating, profanity, reader is black coded and so is toji.

Author's note: If you have problem with me making toji speak in AAVE please don't hesitate to eat my fat ass about it, please and thank you.

Word count: YIPPIE Y'all finally get a word count! 2.6k ✨

Summary: If you ever wanted to get high the Toji here's your chance.

“Give yuh my fuckin babies bruh, I'ma give yuh my fuckin babies, Ma.”

How did you end up here? Going to pound town in the back of a Toji's big daddy truck, high as hell in a smoke filled truck- oh that's right you know how. It really started when you were out with the boys chillin- the boys meaning Satoru, Suguru, and Kento. You were watching them shooting hoops, Then the hood's hottest DILF and Whore pulled up with his kid- Megumi, he's such a cutie when he isn't mean muggin everyone and when he comes to his dad? Oh boy he doesn't play he's such a daddy's boy that Toji can't even pick up women without the lil boy tagging along. Megumi calls most of the shots anyways- if you're pretty to him that Toji will definitely fuck with you, if not? Ain't no use in talking to him, you're cooked.

Today T-Raw was up to no good as usual not only did he come to shoot some hoops, but he also came to pick up a couple of ladies to “take out” later on- Here is goes taking off that slutty tank top of his, not like he can ever keep his clothes on anyways, that fuckin slut- you couldn't stand him. You couldn't stand him because all he does is fuck around and drive all these bitches crazy about him- clearly his dick can't be that good to be chasing him around like that, or so you thought.

“you bet not cum on this dick yet bitch, I ain't done wit cho ass, c'mere!”

Fuck how did you get here… oh yeah that's right, it really started when they was playing B-ball. Megumi kept looking at you and since he's practically his father's wing man you were hoping the lil boy didn't think you were pretty, then he spoke to you- talking about the dogs at their house to showing you his gold chain Toji bought him. But then it happened megumi ran off to go tell his dad about you.. Just your luck right? Riiiiight..

The whole game stopped because megumi had so much to say about you, hell he even told the guys you're his new mama because of how beautiful you are and it had T-Raw checking you out even Satoru gassed him up to go holla at you.

“Her? Oh that's y/n, you tryna fuck on her? Shit she hard to talk to, but on ma the pussy good as fuck she was just fuckin on me and Suguru last week.” Satoru had promised he'd never tell a soul that y'all fucked, but you have known that not even Satoru himself could hold a glass on water.

And just like that Toji was convinced enough to come see bout you.

“Wass good ma”

“..... “

“Hello? Mamas, So you sit finna talk to me? C'mon ion bite, baby.”

“Don't sit up here tellin them lies we all know yo ass bite.”

He chuckled, “Got a lil attitude problem. I like dat mamas. how bout you come smoke with me later on tonight.”

“I'm not one of these other bitches Toji so go find somebody to play with cause it ain't me.”

“Sound like you ain't had no dick Inna minute-”

“Maybe I don't want no dick from you!?”

Yeah, that's how it all went down. You were giving him too much lip that it was turning him on, that's why he didn't let up on you. He wanted to put you in your bratty ass place once and for all because clearly Satoru and Suguru didn't do it right. Naw you obviously needed some dick from big daddy himself, T-Raw.

Now here you are sitting in his truck getting hot boxed to hell, while Satoru and Suguru babysit megumi for that night, and man did you get the feeling neither of y'all would be able to make it home after this smoke session.

“You Eva put a blunt in yo pussy? I'll light for you- We gotta get fat ma blazed too yah feel me?”

What the fuck did he just say? “Toji shut the fuck up!” You have to admit that was pretty funny and wild to say at a time like this, but he isn't so bad right? Wrong.

You couldn't tell if it was the Kush getting to you or what, but with every minute that passed by he started to look more and more attractive. “Keep it together bitch” is what you thought to yourself, you didn't want to fuck around and find out why all his bitches were so crazy over him.

“So when you gone put that pussy on me, mamas?”

What the hell did he just say?

“I know she wet as fuck f'me, come climb on daddy's lap fo a minute.” this whole time his hand had been gripping your thigh close enough to your coochie. Yeah she was wet- soaking wet actually, but you weren't willing to admit that.. At least not verbally, because your body betrays you.

Before you knew it you had succumbed to his slick mouth, but it's not like you didn't fight about it. Oh but he loves a good ole brat- he loves the way they break once they've had a taste of his ten inch punisher and you were gonna break for him too.

“Bet you won't suck dis dick”

“Yeah I BET I won't, the fuck?”

“So all dat freak shit you do wit gang and nem just fo show, huh? Knew you wasn't bout nothin”

“Excuse me?!” How the fuck did he even know about that?! I bet Satoru told him, yeah totally never fuckin him again.

“You heard me, Ma. Chu ain't bout dat life fo'real.”

“Says who? I do what the fuck I want, when I want and who I want.”

“I betchu won't come fuck me then.”

“Bet!”

It all started with you giving him the best toe curling head he ever had, the way you kissed on the tip, licked him up from Gooch to tip, the way you suffocated on his dick, yeah you took all ten inches and he loved every bit of it “Fuck, y- you a nasty bitch” is what he groaned, he felt so good he took a chunk of your hair into his fist and held you still so he could fuck that throat of yours. You were his bitch now, you definitely weren't going nowhere sucking his dick this good.

You thought it'd stop at that no- you found yourself eating this man's ass like a full course meal, like you were hungry and it wasn't even your idea, it was his and you can thank his old bitch for that. Man was he a freak having his legs in the fuckin air, lighting another blunt while he watches you eat his ass. This was way out of your league, eating ass? Not even Satoru and Suguru made you do this, but at least you learned a thing or two from fuckin around with Mei Mei and Shoko one time. Honestly you were scared to even put your tongue down there, thinking he was dirty, but he was surprisingly clean.

“Dirty ass bitch get in the back, c'mon” he was ready, and you were nervous. We're you gonna be like all these other bitches that fucked him and started acting crazy, or were you gonna treat like you treat Satoru and Suguru? It was hard to tell because you never heard any complaints about Toji unless it's about him not answering his phone or talking to other bitches, the works.

“Bet yo dick ain't even that big-”

“Shut cho ass up and bend ova bitch I'll show yo ass how big it is.”

That was your mistake- bending over. Toji pushed your skirt up over your waist and wasted no time ripping those sexy panties off. Your pussy was dripping for him, spreading your asscheeks apart Toji took his cock in hand and rubbed it all along your wet folds, teasing you while you waited anxiously for him to fuck you- so anxious that you started popping off at the mouth again.

“Can't find the hole ol’ man?”

“Can't wait to shut cho lil ass up-”

“Pus-”

Then it happened he shut you up with the quickness, ramming all ten inches into that tight wet pussy of yours. It felt like your body took a screenshot from feeling his cock hit your cervix like that all you could do was tremble and tear up. You felt so full, hell you felt like his dick was somehow in your chest it was so fuckin big that you could hardly adjust to it.

Reaching back to place your hand on his abdomen was your biggest mistake ever “Move yo fuckin hand” is all he said before take ahold of your arm, bending it it behind your back and using his weight to push his cock deeper into you as if it wasn't deep enough.

The only thing that gave you enough relief was when he pulled out, you could finally breathe that was until he rammed his cock back inside… over and over and over again. He was so rough it felt like your mind was going blank all you could think about was how good your feeling right now, how deep his cock is, how your moans were practically stuck in your throat, toji had your eyes rolling back he even put his blunt out on your asshole so he could focus on fuckin you, god he was a nasty, nasty man, no wonder everyone was crazy for him.

The truck was rocking, you finally let out a strained moaned, Toji was fuckin you so ruthlessly leaving hand prints on your asscheeks, pushing down on your lower back to make you arch some more for him, grabbing fists full of your hair as he leaned his weight into every thrust. Your mind was going crazy, but you weren't the only one- Toji was too. Not only was he high as all hell, he was starting to get drunk off your pussy. He was loving how tight you were around him, squeezing and sucking him back into you- in his mind you were doing this on purpose, throwing that pussy- HIS pussy back on him like that yeah to him you knew exactly what you were doing.

“Man fuck! Fuck you let then two fools hit before me?! Fuckin slut” God he put his weight into it again.

“Lil bratty ass bitch got nothin to say now, say sumthin else, come bitch say some more slick shit for daddy so I keep on tearin this pussy up!”

You were past cloud nine at this point everything felt good, his dick, his words, his thrusts, everything. You almost lost your mind when he reached out in front of you and grabbed his gun. That's when you realized how crazy this man is- he pulled out a damn gun!? For what!? Now you see why everyone is so crazy about him.

“T- Toji Wa-”

“Shut the fuck up” he pulled out panting and started rubbing the barrel of it against your wet folds. “How you gone feel if I put this glock 30 in this pussy? Hm? Talk to me mamas, I'm not fuckin done witchu”

“Toji i-”

“It's T-Raw, bitch.” You trembled the second he pushed the barrel inside your pussy. You couldn't tell if you were scared or excited, but you knew one thing he sure as hell was excited just from pumping your pussy with his glock.

“You's a nasty dirty ass, bitch, throwin back on MY gun, bet it ain't as good as this mufuckin pipe.” He had a cocky tone to his voice while he was gripping the hell out of his cock and fisting it vigorously. “Fuck it-” he tossed his gun to the side causing you the whimper from the sudden emptiness, but that was soon replaced with him slamming his cock back in, then reaching around you to grab ahold of the sides of your mouth as he drilled you, drool on his fingers and arm rest, drool on his cock that's how he liked it.

You could feel a knot in the pit of your pussy, you were so close, tears welled up in your eyes, you were going to burst at this rate, if he kept up brutal pace he'll be cleaning up coochie juice for weeks with the way you around to cum. You reached in between your legs to rub circles onto your clit to help get you to that big orgasm you've always wanted..

“T- T-Raw! F- Fuck! Daddy I'm gonna cum!”

Toji was so lost in your pussy it was almost like he was in another world, You were just too good for him. It was driving him crazy. He almost didn't register what you said at first, you? About to cum? Yeah no he couldn't have that yet, not until HE is done.

“you bet not cum on this dick yet bitch, I ain't done wit cho ass, c'mere!” Suddenly, He puts you into one of the meanest chokeholds you had ever been in, pulling your body onto his lap so that you're sitting on his fat cock with your legs propped up on the back on the front seats. Fuck he really wasn't done with you for real.

“Can't NOBODY fuck you like I do, you ain't gone be thinkin of nobody's dick, but mine after I'm done, you hear me bitch?! Take that shit, take it, take it, take it, Ah Fuck-!”

You couldn't breathe, your eyes were touching the back of your head, he was beating your pussy in and you couldn't do anything about it. His dick was good… too good in fact, he was slutting you out better than Satoru, Suguru, hell even Choso- but none of them know about that one. You could almost guarantee your brain chemistry has been altered just from the way he's trying to put his dick up your coochie, through your stomach and behind the left rib. All you could do now was take his dick like the good little bitch that you are.

“Give yuh my fuckin babies bruh, I'ma give yuh my fuckin babies, Ma.”

“Yes! G- Give it to me T-Raw! Give it to me Daddy!”

His thrust became sloppy and his grip around your neck tightened, he was definitely about to cum inside your sweet pussy, yet that's really you wanted now was for him to fill your pussy up with his baby batter. He let on one loud “Fuck” into your ear and rammed his dick inside you one more time, all you could feel so was his cock pumping his load inside you.

Once he was finished he let go of your throat, both of you panting and trying to catch your breath. But the thing is you didn't get to cum yet and toji knew that and all he could do was smirk at your pouty lil face for not making you cum too.

“What? Yah mad bitch? Brats like yo ass don't deserve to cum.” He took his left over blunt and lit it.

“But since you was a good fuck I'll let you cum this once, but I ain't helpin, so bounce on dis dick all you want.”

“B.. But T-Raw”

“What the fuck did I just say? Huh? Get to fuckin bouncing, I'm waiting slut.”

You know it, you were going to be crazy just like all his other bitches after tonight… ain't no way you're going back to the boys, ever.

Tags: @littlemochabunni @blkkizzat @arlerts-angel @ramonathinks @nkogneatho @tonycries @connorsui @honeeslust @halosdiary @hoshigaby @screampied @rinhaler @buttercupblu @triangularz @fairy-hub

[thesassypadawan]

So Uncivilized (Master Obi-Wan x FemPadawanReader)

Summary: After a long mission all Obi wants is a good rest. Too bad that will have to wait. You ‘accidently’ left something of yours in his sleep couch…and got your poor master all hot and bothered. Oppsies!

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut. Panties, masturbation, some good time riding, and Obi’s big, fat cock. Padawan reader is of age.

Notes: A little something for @fluentlyspeakingtreason! It was truly a pleasure to write this! As soon as I read your ask, I knew exactly what do! I had a lot of fun with it, cannot not emphasize that enough!  Hope you like it! 💙

Sighing heavily, Obi-Wan plopped down on his sleep couch. It had been a long mission and, what felt like, an even longer debriefing with the council. All he had craved from the moment he set foot back on Coruscant was a good rest and, finally, he was able to do so.

Having stripped down to nothing, he pulled back the covers and was met by the very ‘interesting’ surprise of…your panties.

True, a master shouldn’t know what their padawan wears beneath those robes. However you had, on more than one occasion, forgotten them in the fresher after you were done. Leaving Obi flushed in the face, head full of ‘thoughts’, and, well, painfully hard.

Despite all of that, he never dared act on these ‘thoughts’. Always pretending he didn’t see them and, to his great dismay, letting them remain behind. Because of the whole jedi code, you being his padawan, and what not.

That is until today though…

Not sure whether it was the lack of sleep, temptation getting the best of him, or maybe both. Either way, Obi-Wan found himself taking the small, lacey pair into his hands. Bringing them to his face and…

He groaned as he inhaled your heavenly scent. Mouth watering as he lapped at the tacky spot of your arousal that you so kindly gifted to him. “Maker, you’re a sweet one.”

Once they were licked clean, he wrapped them around his hard cock. Eyes closing as he began to pump himself. Imagining how your face would contort in ecstasy, while he pounded into you. How you would clench around him, head thrown back as you begged for…

“I’ve been looking for those!”

Obi’s eyes snapped open in surprise. He had been so caught up in his fantasy that he didn’t even hear the door sliding open. “Little one, I… Well, you see… Why are you naked?”

Rolling your eyes at him, you giggled softly. “Obviously because I couldn’t find my panties. Come on, master, I thought you were smarter than that.”

“I-I-I…” Was all he could manage to stutter out. He was flustered beyond belief. Face on fire from embarrassment. Cock twitching at the fact that you caught him in such a deprave act.

“Anyway,” you purred, snatching your lingerie off him. “Thanks for keeping them warm for me.”

Winking playfully, you kissed his oozing tip and turned to leave. But were stopped when…

“And where do you think you’re going?” Obi-Wan growled, an iron grip on your wrist.

He watched as a mischievous grin crossed your face. “I was going to put some clothes on. You know since I found my panties.”

“Oh no, you don’t.” Grasping your hips firmly, he pulled you down on top of him. Crashing his lips against yours in a searing kiss. Forcing your knees on either side of his thighs.

“You’ve misbehaved, padawan of mine.” He reached between your bodies. Taking hold of himself and placing his fat head at your already soaked entrance. “And you’re not leaving here until you’ve been thoroughly punished.”

“Is that so?” You cooed, grinding your hips into him nice and slow. “Prove it then.”

He merely smirked and with a subtle persuasion of the force, Obi had you slowly sinking down on his impressive length. Stretching out your pussy as he made you take girthy inch after girthy inch. Until he bottomed out.

“Master,” you happily mewled, rubbing the slight bulge in your stomach. “So big, master.”

“Darling,” he scolded, large hand grazing over your little bump. “This is punishment, not enjoyment. Do you understand?”

He felt you squirm under his touch. “Yes, master,” you whimpered, giving a slight nod as you bit your lip.

“Excellent.” His arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “Now be my good girl and take everything I give you.”

Snapping his hips, Obi-Wan slammed up into you. Making your cry out in pleasure, already desperately clamping down on him.

“So tight.” Using his hands, he moved you up and down. “So wet.” Bucking wildly, hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you. “And so naughty.”

He was bouncing you on his cock by this point. Hips thrusting at a ruthless pace as he lifted you effortlessly. Bullying and bruising your cervix over and over.

“M-Master,” you whined, your walls fluttering around him. “I’m so c-close…”

“Already?” Obi grunted, his hips beginning to falter. “All right, dear one, you may… cum.”

Tugging you down hard on his cock, he somehow buried himself even deeper. Groaning as you clenched him wonderfully, while he stuffed your pussy deliciously full of his hot cum.

“Well then,” he chuckled, noticing the satisfied smile you wore. “You certainly looked pleased with yourself.”

“You bet ya,” you giggled, pressing a fiery kiss to his lips. “Think I’ll have to misplace my panties more often.”

“So uncivilized,” Obi-Wan growled, emphasizing his point with a good, hard thrust.

Tag List: @cacti5539

[eternal-adoration]

So you know how many of the jjk men like to tease…? Autistic reader who can’t tell they’re teasing pls 🙏🥺

Such a great concept, anon! I don't know much of autism, just that it's a spectrum, so I hope I've written this well! Also, I wasn't sure if you wanted a SMAU, so I'm just doing a regular thing <3!

JJK men x Autistic!reader

ft. Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Toji Fushiguro

TW: angst, hurt to comfort

pt. 1(?)

A/N: This isn't necesarilly autistic!reader coded, this can count for everybody! also i dunno if I'll make a second part, but we'll see.

Satoru Gojo

You were out with your boyfriend, Satoru, to a café in a more quiet part in Tokyo after a long business trip he had to take. He held your hand in his, fingers intertwining while sitting next to the other as you both looked at the menu to see what drinks and foods sparked your interest the most. You pointed at something on the menu, it was a pancake sandwhich shaped like a cat! It was absolutely adorable in your eyes, and you just had to show your boyfriend!

"Satoru, look! A pancake sandwhich shaped like a cat!"

The white haired sorcerer chuckled softly upon your excited chirping. He peered over your shoulder to see the food item that got you so excited. A little smirk formed on his lips as his sunglass-covered eyes scanned the picture

"A pancake sandwhich, huh? You're really lettin' yourself go, babycakes."

Satoru commented as he kissed your cheek. He didn't hold any malice in his tone, he was just teasing you. But to you, it felt like he thought you were gaining too much weight. You placed the menu card down, and got up. Mumbling you had to go to the bathroom. Satoru noticed the look in your eyes. But before he could ask anything, you already went to the restroom. Satoru decided to wait for you to come back, not thinking much of it. That was, until you were in the restroom for longer than usual, which made him grow concerned. He grabbed his phone, texting you.

.

"Mochi? What's taking so long?"

.

After a couple seconds, Satoru noticed you read his text, but you didn't reply. He knew you only left him on read if you were either multi-tasking or if you were mad at him. He assumed the latter.

Meanwhile, you were crying in the bathroom stall, thinking your boyfriend thought you were getting too fat for his liking. You tried to calm yourself down by playing with your rings, but it didn't help much. In the midst of your crying session, you could hear a familliar knock on the door of the women's restroom and a soft voice speaking from behind it.

"Honeybun? Are you there? Can you come out for me, please?"

You let out a shaky sigh, stepping out of the stall. You quickly washed your face and dried it with a paper towel before stepping out, avoiding your boyfriend's concerning gaze. He gently took your hand and lead you out of the cafe to a side alley before speaking

"What's wrong, sweetpea? Did something overwhelm you? You can talk with me, I'll listen"

Satoru stated, a soft smile on his lips as he tried to comfort you by rubbing a thumb over your knuckles, waiting patiently as you gathered the courage to voice your thoughts.

"Toru? Do you think I'm gaining too much weight for your liking?"

You avoided his widening gaze when the words fell from your lips. Satoru was silent for a second before speaking up, his voice soft

"What? Of course not, babycakes! You're perfect to me, so what makes ya think that?"

A lump you didn't know was in your throat got swallowed as a red blush crept on your cheeks from embarassment and endearment. Of course Satoru thought you were perfect, he always told you that. But his words just felt so mean to you..

"Well.. When we we're ordering and I showed you the pancake sandwhich, you said I was really letting myself go.."

Your boyfriend's blue eyes widened as guilt slowly filled them, he totally forgot that you had a hard time taking hints like sarcasm and teasing, taking things often too literally. He carefully wrapped his arms around you, holding you in a gentle embrace as he hid his face in your hair

"I'm so sorry, babycakes. I was just teasing you.. Didn't mean to make ya feel bad 'bout yourself.."

He mumbled, kissing the crown of your head. You hugged him back, sighing as you hid in his chest. You both stayed like that for a while until Satoru spoke up, a smile on his lips

"Cmon, babycakes. Let's go get those pancake sandwhiches. I'm starving"

It's save to say that Satoru would be trying his best to hold back his teasing comments for your own sake and self-esteem

Suguru Geto

Suguru walks after you in one of the bustling malls of Tokyo. Your boyfriend was internally disgusted by all the filfthy monkeys around you both, but he didn't let his distaste show. After all, today was supposed to be a fun shopping outing for the both of you since he has been preoccupied lately. Meanwhile, you happily gaze at the shop displays to see which shop you wanted to see first. Eventually, a cute display caught your eye. It was a beautiful layered dress with white frills at the edges. You headed towards the display and showed it to your raven-haired boyfriend

"Suguru, look how cute that dress is! Wouldn't it fit so well with my new shoes?"

Suguru switched his gaze from your beautiful face to the shopping display. He let out a soft huff, imagening you in that dress. It wasn't exactly your everyday style, but he knew you could make anything look good.

"Someone's feeling a little bold today, isn't she?"

Once those words left his mouth, you couldn't focus on what he was saying next. Did he think you wouldn't look good in it? Did he hate the dress? Was he making fun of it, of you??

Your racing thoughts distracted you from how he said you'd look good in it. Your feet simply dragged you away from the display. Suguru's eyebrows knitted together in concern as you suddenly left without a word. What happened? He couldn't tell. Your boyfriend wasted no time in following after you.

"Darling, what's wrong? I thought you said you liked the dress? Don't you want to get it?

He was met with silence, which he didn't like. He firmly grabbed your wrist, but still making sure not to hurt you.

"Sweetheart, I asked you something. The least you could do is answe-"

You suddenly pulled your hand out of his grip, telling him to leave you alone as you ran into the busy crowd. Suguru was concerned, what happened? Did he do something wrong? He honestly couldn't tell. When he tried following after you, he eventually lost you in the large crowd. Frustration and concern bubbled up inside him. The raven-haired cult leader sent out some of his smaller curses to search for you across the mall.

Meanwhile, you were infront of some sort of bookstore, panting heavily from how fast you were running. You felt like crying. Suguru's comment made you confused. He never said something like that to you, so it made you feel sad. You knew you shouldn't have just run off like that and give him an answer, but your emotions got a hold of you.

Still upset, you decided to head to a cafe across the bookstore and order yourself something to cheer yourself up. You sat on a sofa and ordered your favorite. A few minutes later, you got your drink and were about to enjoy it as much as you could until you noticed something out of the window.

It was one of Suguru's curses, jumping and pointing at you. In the distance, you could see Suguru approach. When he saw you through the cafe's window, he seemed relieved. Suguru flicked his wrist and the curse dissapeared as he made his way inside.

You sheepishly averted your gaze, your eyes filled with guilt. Suguru sat next to you and wrapped and arm around your waist, pulling you closer

"Oh, sweetheart. You're alright.."

His voice was filled with relief as he tenderly kissed your forehead before placing a hand on your soft cheek, his eyebrows still slightly furrowed.

"Why did you run away, love? What's going on? I wan't you to tell me the truth."

A sigh escaped your lips, averting your gaze as he cupped your face so tenderly. It made you feel bad about not telling him before.

"Well, when I showed you that dress, you said I was getting bold.. Do you think I'd look ugly with the dress, Sugu?"

Your boyfriend's eyebrows raised, realizing why you reacted like that so suddenly. He felt stupid now. He completely forgot you can't easily tell when someone's just teasing you.

"Oh, Y/N, I didn't mean it like that! I was just teasing you, I think you would look wonderful in that dress, my pretty girl."

Your cheeks reddened a little, feeling silly because of the way you reacted..

"I'm sorry, Sugu.. I should've told you earlier instead of acting so childish.."

Suguru smiled softly, kissing the top of your head while rubbing your back tenderly

"It's okay, pretty. 's not your fault." he mumbled, grabbing your hand in his.

"Let's go back to that store, and you can try out that dress to see for yourself how pretty you'll look, alright?"

And with a smile, you nodded. Quickly paying for your drink before walking hand-in-hand with Suguru to the shop. Guess this day will have a good end after all.

Toji Fushiguro

You and Toji had been dating for a while. You were aware of what he did, and that he wasn't always home because of it. But you didn't mind taking care of Megumi when he wasn't there, you loved the kid with your whole heart!

Today was one of those rare moments when Toji was home. Megumi was fast asleep and you two decided to have a cozy night in, watching TV. Though, you weren't really focused on the show in front of you, instead, you were talking Toji's ear off about a comic series you read with Megumi the other day. Toji listened to your every word, though it didn't look like he seemed interested, he was, really. He was happy whenever you and Megumi found something you both enjoyed, it made his heart swell despite the aloof exterior he always tried to keep.

Middle into your info-dumping session, Toji interrupted you

"Yeah, ma, sounds really interestin'. How 'bout we continue watching the movie, yeah?"

To Toji, it didn't feel like he said anything wrong, he just wanted you to also focus on the movie a little since you kept on asking him to see it. But to you it felt like he was dismissing your info-dumping. A seed of insecurity was planted into your head as the idea of Toji finding your constant chatting annoying gnawed at the back of your mind. So much to the point that you just zoned out.

Toji looked down at you, mindlessly staring into space. He waved a hand infront of you, but when you didn't react he called out to you

Eventually after the fifth time of him calling, you snapped out of your 'trance'. You looked up at Toji who seemed a little concerned

"Hey ma, y'r alright? You were kinda out of it just now"

You gulped, nodding your head while averting your eyes. You didn't feel so good, so you got up, saying you had to go to the bathroom.

Toji was a bit concerned, but he figured you just needed to wash your face or something.

So when you didn't come out the bathroom after 15 minutes, he got up and knocked on the door, being careful to not wake Megumi who was asleep down the hallway

"Everything good there, ma? You been there for a while now.."

Truth be told, everything was not good. You couldn't help overthinking about what he said, which lead to you subconsciously scratching your lower arms. You didn't hear Toji calling out for you until the door was suddenly kicked open.

There in the doorway stood Toji, who got onto his knees infront of you, holding your hands

"Hey, hey, ma. What's wrong, huh? Why y'r scratchin' yerself? Come on, talk to me, sweetheart."

You managed to look up at Toji, blinking a few times and taking some deep breaths before speaking

"It's.. It's just- God, Toji- do you think I'm.. annoying? That I.. talk too much?"

The raven haired man's eyebrows knitted together at that question, one of his hands went to caress your cheek with his thumb while the other still held your hand

"Hah? Course not, ma. What makes ya think that?"

You look down at your hands before looking back up at Toji. God, you felt so embarassed, and for what? You didn't know. You let out a shaky breath before replying

"Well.. When I was talking to you about the comics I read with Megumi the other day, it felt like you were dismissing me cause I talk to much.."

Toji let out a huff when you said that, though it wasn't one of annoyance. He gently wrapped his big arms around you, bringing you close

"I'm sorry, dollface. Didn't mean to make you feel that way. I love hearing ya talk, ma. But I wanted to have you focus on the movie 'cause you kept asking to see it with me."

That made your cheeks flush in embarassment, you hid your face into Toji's chest, mumbling apologies which earned you a gentle swat at the back of your head from Toji.

"Don't apologize, dollface. Now, how 'bout we watch the movie another time and you tell me all about those comics, yea?"

When Toji saw you nodding your head, he grinned and picked you up over his shoulder, which made you squeal in surprise. The assasin went to grab the doorknob, but then realized that he had kicked it down...

Guess you two will have to go door shopping tomorrow..

[atomicami]

tattoo artist!abby hcs

modern!abby anderson x fem!reader

✰ content: no outbreak obviously, mentions of needles, tattoos/piercings, vegas living, mentions of anxiety from reader, a bit of homophobia, there are nsfw headcanons so minors and ageless blogs DNI!!, mentions of oral and strap usage (r!receiving), mirror play, scissoring, some picture taking, very inappropriate use of piercings 😀 different sex positions, and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything

✰ middle pic creds to @abbystanaccount

these headcanons are inspired off a pic i saw on twitter the other day that literally had me going feral. like if that isn’t the most tattoo artist!abby coded shit then idk what is. so let’s talk about it!

✰ tattoo artist!abby who’s been addicted to getting tattoos since the day she turned 18 and is so obsessed with the buzzing of the tattoo gun that she decided to dedicate her whole career on it

✰ tattoo artist!abby also canonically has her tongue pierced. you can’t tell me otherwise.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who’s now in her mid 20s and owns a tattoo shop in las vegas, nevada, since the tattoo industry tends to pay pretty well there. what happens in vegas doesn’t always tend to stay there, right?

✰ tattoo artist!abby goes through lots of customers on a day to day basis, and personally she could care less whether they’re sober and just looking for some new ink or drunk with some impulsive decision making after a bottomless margarita from fat tuesday’s because she’s still making that bank regardless.

✰ tattoo artist!abby also keeps a black polaroid camera by her station and has a whole collection of photos hung up on the wall next to her desk. to cherish the moment, she’s always had the tradition to take a picture of her first time clients, along with any celebrities that have visited her shop as well.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who hears the shop’s bell chime and turns to see a group of girls coming their way towards reception for a walk in appointment.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who sees you shyly standing in the middle of your friend group, anxiously waiting while you look around her shop

✰ tattoo artist!abby is told by one of your friends that they’re celebrating their graduation season from UNLV and as a memory together they all wanted to get some cheap $10 matching tattoos that her shop offered to customers.

✰ tattoo artist!abby notices that you’re the only one in your friend group that doesn’t have any tattoos and secretly holds her excitement in when you tell her that it’s your first one, because she would love to be the first person to put some ink on that blank canvas of yours.

✰ tattoo artist!abby starts making stencils for your friend group’s matching tattoos. your friends impulsively chose to do matching tramp stamps and of course you reluctantly agree to do it with them.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who, once it’s your turn, tries to keep her cool when you position yourself on the chair, with your front facing with the front of the chair and your bare lower back peeking out of your low rise jeans to her face.

✰ tattoo artist!abby gently placing the stencil on your lower back and handing you a mirror for you to check and see if the placement looks good.

✰ tattoo artist!abby noticing you start to get anxious once she turns on the tattoo gun, and keeps her free hand placed by your hip, and tells you reassuringly “just squeeze my hand if it hurts or if you need a break, okay?”

✰ tattoo artist!abby praising you throughout the whole tattoo process, saying things like “you’re doing so good for me love, just stay still now…i promise we’re almost done.”

✰ tattoo artist!abby who pulls out her polaroid camera once everyone’s finished and takes a group photo of you with your friends to hang up on her client wall, before pulling you to the side to get a photo of just you with your first tat.

✰ tattoo artist!abby letting your first tattoo be on the house and not letting you pay for it, secretly telling you that it’s a special discount just for you since you’re the prettiest client she’s ever had

✰ tattoo artist!abby who runs into you at the grocery store a week later, and you couldn’t help but check her out in the gym outfit she was wearing: dark gray sweats and a tight black muscle tee that perfectly contoured her broad physique and showed off her arms, letting you see how her inked pieces hugged those defined muscles of hers. and her hands…you also couldn’t help but imagine what her tatted fingers would look like inside your cu—

“hey! long time no see…everything alright with the tattoo so far?”

“hm? oh yeah! the tattoo has been healing perfectly…i’ve been doing the aftercare routine you recommended me to do.”

✰ tattoo artist!abby takes advantage of the moment she has with you right now and asks you out on a date, to which you accept.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who takes you out to a lovely restaurant by the strip, and tells you to order whatever you want because she’s been dying to spoil you since the moment you walked into her shop.

✰ tattoo artist!abby holding you close by her side as you walk down the strip with her. since she’s more familiar with vegas than you are, she knows how the strip can be dangerous at night and wants to keep you safe.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who safely drops you off back to your place in her black jeep wrangler, kissing you on the cheek goodbye with a second date already locked in.

✰ who knew that a second date with tattoo artist!abby would soon progress into something much more than that.

✧*.｡✰ ───

✰ tattoo artist!abby who’s now been your girlfriend for almost three years, to which i’m very well aware is equivalent to like a whole decade in wlw relationships but you both are still going strong today.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who manages to expand her tattoo shop, now being a small chain with a few other locations established across las vegas.

✰ tattoo artist!abby loves it when you visit her during your lunch hours, leaving whatever it is that she was doing to any of her other employees to finish so she can spend some time with you

✰ tattoo artist!abby who still has the polaroid she took of you from when you first came into her shop three years ago, placed inside a little red photo frame on her desk right next to her customer photo wall.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who now lives with you, and upgraded her studio apartment to a nice townhouse outside of the strip, since she knows you have a hard time sleeping at night with the overwhelming atmosphere it always carries.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who lets you color her tattoos with markers whenever you get really anxious, since she knows doing that helps you calm down.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who’s done just a few more pieces on you since the start of your relationship with her, but you always tell her to keep the tattoos minimalistic since that is the style you’ve preferred

✰ tattoo artist!abby who takes you out to eat for your three year anniversary at top of the world, a fancy revolving restaurant located inside the stratosphere hotel that has a panoramic view of the entire las vegas strip

✰ tattoo artist!abby who that same night, waits at the right moment for the hourly fountain show to start playing in front of the bellagio so she can get down on one knee and propose to you right there for everyone to see.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who goes all out for the wedding, booking it at a venue not in vegas, but all the way upstate in lake tahoe, so the two of you can get married with a beautiful lakeside view.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who successfully convinces her father to walk you down the aisle at her wedding after your parents found out that you were going to marry her and decided not to come. despite the fact that jerry wasn’t too fond of abby’s tattoo obsession and had wanted her to follow in his footsteps and become a doctor like him, it didn’t stop him from unconditionally loving and supporting his only daughter. and he knew you were the perfect one to give that to her as well.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who doesn’t even let the officiant finish his final statement and wraps an arm around your waist, twirling you around the altar and giving you the most passionate kiss in front of everyone to tie the knot.

✰ but to really tie the knot, after the wedding ceremony you and abby end up tattooing each others first initial onto each others ring fingers inside her shop.

✰ tattoo artist!abby who is so excited to spend the rest of her life married to an amazing and supportive woman like you.

NSFW HCS UNDER THE CUT

✰ tattoo artist!abby enjoys some good missionary, but then again who doesn’t? she mostly loves doing it to you because she knows you get that sense of protection from her in the bedroom with her prominent, muscular figure towering over yours when she pounds her strap deep inside you.

✰ this one shouldn’t even have to be listed because we all know damn well that tattoo artist!abby eats it for her own pleasure. that woman will eat you out like its her final meal on death row. and with that metal tongue ring of hers rubbing against your clit and teasing your tight entrance, abby’s expert tongue alone will have you cumming into her mouth instantly.

✰ tattoo artist!abby also owns one of those vibrating tongue rings, but she’ll only use that on you after you’ve had AT LEAST three orgasms so you’re super overstimulated for it

✰ tattoo artist!abby definitely makes you look down in between your legs while she fingers you, so you can see how much your wetness is soaking up the healed ink on her fingers while she pumps them in and out of your needy cunt.

✰ tattoo artist!abby also doesn’t care how loud you end up getting while she fucks you, despite how embarrassed you get with startling the neighbors when it happens. if anything she encourages that so they can know how good she’s making you feel.

✰ tattoo artist!abby either uses a completely black strap OR a skin tone colored strap that she had custom made to look like it has tattoos on it, because if she was a dude she would definitely have her dick tatted too idc.

✰ tattoo artist!abby has definitely fucked you in her shop when no one else is around..like can you imagine taking her strap in the same chair that she tattoos her customers?? not to mention she’s got mirrors in that shop and she will definitely make you look at it and watch yourself take her strap like the good slut you are.

✰ in addition, tattoo artist!abby also installed a mirror on the ceiling above the chair. she always tells her customers it’s for them to see their backs better while getting a back piece done but you know damn well she put that in her own shop just for you to watch yourself better the next time she fucks you in that chair again

✰ and we certainly can’t forget about tattoo artist!abby’s iconic polaroid camera…she definitely is one for playing the photographer in the bedroom and keeps loads of nude polaroids of you tucked inside her wallet which are for her eyes only.

✰ tattoo artist!abby LOVES doing reverse cowgirl with you! mainly because she can see your whole back profile perfectly and admire the first piece of ink she put on you every time you ride her strap 🫶🏻

✰ i also feel like it’s not too common for tattoo artist!abby to do this but whenever she feels like doing something different she’ll for sure scissor you too. and it’ll definitely feel good on your end because…well…let’s just say that abby’s tongue isn’t the only part of her body that’s pierced 🫣

✰ and last but not least, tattoo artist!abby is 100% the queen of aftercare. she’ll treat your fucked out self the same way she would with a freshly done tattoo. she’ll draw you a nice warm bath to soothe your muscles, make you drink lots water for hydration, and curl up in the bed with her tatted sleeves wrapped around you as you drift off with her to sleep.

in conclusion, we need to give tattoo artist!abby the attention she deserves 🧎🏻‍♀️thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

[divergentboa]

⋆˚࿔ cw. sub!eren, afab, dom!reader, black coded, dacryphillia ( ? ), overstimulation, cowgirl, mentions of teasing, dirty talk, pet names ୨ baby, sweetheart, pretty girl ୧, cream pie, slight praising, mdni

“oh, fuckkk.”

a whisper drips from his lips as his jade colored eyes immediately roll toward the back of his head when you finally sink down onto his cock after so much teasing, and his mind is just as scrambled as eggs on a hot sunday morning. all while slowly plunging yourself upon him, you pepper wet kisses along his jawline down to his neck in a soothing manner.

incoherent babbles are the only things that eren could fathom once your hips finally meet his. it feels like absolute heaven. your gooey walls so warm and snug and, oh, he begins to think that he hasn’t even been fucking you right because your pussy is so stupidly tight.

he genuinely tries not to combust right then and there. that familiar knot is already built up and it takes everything in him. but he knows that even if he does you’ll give him a sweet smile and tell him how it’s okay.

it was basically suffocation, the way your slit easily sucked him in. his beating hot tip pressed up against that little spongy spot that he loved so much. eren could feel his his waterline dampen and he’s embarrassed because you haven’t even moved yet.

you’ve barely touched him and he’s a mess.

all slumped up against the headboard. softly tanned skin flustered and glistening with a thin layer of sweat building up, breaths increasing every second. wild baby hairs sticking to his forehead and his lips are slightly parted. once you begin moving, he’s quick to nestle his face into your neck with a whimper.

“s-shit baby, fuckkk me, please.”

you let out a small giggle and you feel his dick twitch inside of you when you do.

“already am, ‘ren.” a kiss is planted on his jaw and eren swears he almost cums. his slender hands rested on your fat brown hips as he pathetically bucks his own up into you, trying to match the way you bounced and rolled your hips on his dick. groans and whimpers fall uncontrollably out of his body and you’re no better. moaning prettily into his ear, and eren has a whole eargasm.

you sounded so pretty, moaning his name and telling him how good he felt. his body shook everytime you touched him and it was simply fascinating.

“y-you’re s’deep, baby.” you groan, throwing your head back.

giving up, erens entire head just drops onto your shoulder and you swear that you felt him drooling. your pussy squelched vulgarly every time you slammed your ass onto his thighs. every inch of him touched your walls and it was beautiful. every vein, and even the small upturn of his tip he had. your pussy clenches on his dick and he moans. it was high pitched so you know that he’s close.

“m’god, babyyyy, you feel so— hngg.” eren shudders.

you whine softly, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you felt your high coming as well. your eyes flickered down onto him, leaning down to give him a gingerly kiss.

“c’mon, make a big nasty mess in me, m’sweet boy.” you moan, bouncing on his dick, even going as far as to spelling out your name cause you was really like that.

he must’ve took your words to heart because abruptly, you felt his dick twitch once more before you felt him release a thick, huge load of his nut spill deliciously into your leaking womb. it was sooo much, he couldn’t stop. he felt his balls empty out slowly, like it was never going to end.

“mm. so much, eren. all for me?” you fuck him through his orgasm and his body furiously shakes, still not down from his high as his head slumps on your shoulder once again. it just kept coming, and it was oozing out of your hole but eren was quick to force it back in with a stutter of his hips, desperate.

“pleasepleaee, don’ waste none, sweetheart. fuck, i got s’much f’you. take it all, pleaseeeefuckkkk.” he babbles, breathily.

not proofread lol

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: racer!john b x s/o!reader x racer!jj

cw: dom/sub undertones, spanking, dp in one hole, goes without saying but… unrealistic sex lol, threesome, armpit action (jj with john b), BOYS KISSING 😨, written in the middle of night while watching the powerpuff girls so once again don’t think just vibe, f1 racer john b & jj coded but i didn’t care enough to make it super accurate 💀, fucking on the hood of a car, possibly ooc since this is my 2nd obx piece, implications of plus sized reader

wc: 999

block & move on if uncomfortable !!!

don’t repost, translate, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

“C’mon dude, be careful, ‘m gonna hit my head on the windshield if you don’t slow down.” JJ moans, lazily sucking your tongue. Every one of John B’s thrusts sends you further up the hood of his race car, which the three of you are recklessly fucking on top of. They just wanted to celebrate their positions on the podium with their biggest fan.

The garage in which the car is being kept is so cold your nipples could fall off, but the body heat being shared between the three of you will probably keep it at bay. Probably.

Both John B and JJ were drenched in sweat and some kind of grease, the smell only makes your pussy clench tighter around JJ, his hips shoot up in surprise.

“Oh F-fuck! Just like that, mama~ So tight….”

John B’s pace in your ass slows so he can smack JJ upside the back of his head, “Told you to be fuckin’ quiet, don’t wanna get your bare ass on the news, maybank.”

Before JJ can retort that he very much would not mind him accidentally mooning whatever poor race track employee stumbles upon them, John B is grabbing his hair in one fist with the hand that’s not clutching at your fat ass and shoving his smug face into his hairy armpit.

The lesson does nothing, like usual, JJ just moans as his boyfriend’s strong musk invades his senses. He can wet smacking sounds that are obviously you and John B making out while John B rams your asshole. Since JJ already came before the two of you earlier, he busies himself with cleaning John B’s armpit and weakly slapping his balls against you when the friction fades away too much.

“Always yapping our baby’s ear off for no reason, when you know what else your mouth should be doing instead.”

The unabashed freakish behavior tests John B’s resolve, and he slaps JJ’s face to signal him to stop so he can drag him into a sticky kiss. Your clit throbs at your favorite sight of your boyfriend’s tongues curling around each other, especially when the string of spit that connects them when they pull away snaps and falls on your face.

You’re suddenly taken hostage into a threeway french kiss, which you pull away from to gasp when out of nowhere John B gropes your jiggling ass before harshly spanking it. You moan and try to stick your hips out as far as possible in your sandwiched position, earning you more rough spanks that leave the flesh stinging like hell. Just what you wanted, with a red handprint to match too.

“Yeah I know you like that, baby. This pretty little ass looks so good in red.” John B coos, smoothing his hand over the raw skin to soothe the welcome pain.

JJ pouts at the display, despite his cock seeming to harden inside of your creamy cunt. You lean down to suck on his nipples to placate him, silently communicating that he always gets spanked after you anyway.

JJ threads his hands into your hair, making sure you keep his chest lookin’ pretty as he mentally prepares himself to start fucking up into you again. You’re just so heavenly and wet and warm and tight, he really does think you were put on this earth to drain the life outta him via his balls.

John B’s warning glare stops him, and when he obeys and keeps his hips still, the former’s gaze softens and JJ’s rewarded with a soft kiss on his forehead.

John B slowly eases out of your throughougly fucked ass, his thick tip catching on the puffy rim. You look over your shoulder to watch as he gives his stupidly big cock a few quick pumps before aiming the head at your stretched pussy. You nod and bite your lip when he shoots you a questioning look, having been together so long at this point that none of the three of you really needed any words to speak to each other.

The look of sheer excitement on JJ’s face when he feels the other man’s cock slide up along his inside of you is almost better than how pleased your greedy hole is.

“Oh shit, are you sure you can take it, mama? You’re already shaking over me, ‘s cute.”

“They’re doing just fine, aren’t you, peach? So good for us, our little cheerleader.” John B answers for you, you moan out a ‘yes, babe i can always take it’ to JJ as you get used to the stretch.

You don’t indulge in this often, and truth be told your boyfriends are usually hesitant to give you both of their dicks. Winning never fails to get them so horny that they’d be willing to listen to the devils on their shoulders that are their cockheads though. It’s why you always run to jump in their arms with an extra pep in your step when they break through the crowd of press and racing personnel.

You wiggle your hips to indicate that they can move, and they start fucking with gentle thrusts. They speed up their pace soon after, both of your boyfriend’s moaning at the feeling of their cocks rubbing together inside of you. Not one of you is thinking coherently, you’re all too preoccupied with panting into each other’s mouths and scratching red lines down whatever parts of your sweaty bodies you can reach.

It’s a miracle you and JJ don’t slip off of his car’s hood, there’s countless kinds of fluids all over you and you depend on John B behind you to hold you up. JJ’s too fucked out to down to earth. You suck bruises into his neck when he throws it back against the car as John B hunches over to bite down your back.

Two sets of hands toy with your fat clit, and your orgasm makes you black out so hard that you miss the questioning shouts outside.

[icallhimjoey]

I can’t find the post where it said you were writing poppy and mark joe and also a ski fic — arguably those go so hand in hand, like that version of joe is so ski trip coded and reader being like of course you ski, of course you’re so good at it too🙄

babe, thanks for this! ive received a few ski fic requests after those vids dropped, but this one clicked all of it into place for me, so mwah, love you, you're a star <3 it helps to have read this beforehand! Wordcount: 3.7K

---

Said It Without Saying It

This is supposed to be a fun trip. A couple of days away with your friends. Nice scenery. Good food, lovely drinks. Board games and laughter – the whole ordeal.

You’re not quite sure what’s fun about this.

It’s cold. Fucking freezing.

“You all right?” Joe asks over his shoulder, holding onto Poppy’s ski stick as you cross a flat plane of snow after getting off the chair lift.

“Yea.” You lie, following your little group as best you can.

You’re wrapped up in so many layers of clothing that even something as simple as walking is the most difficult thing you’ve ever done. It’s hard to see. Hard to hear. You can barely turn your head, scarf so tight around your neck, you feel like you can’t breathe properly. But you’d had no other choice but to tie it the way you did. The zipper of your coat had to be done all the way up if you didn’t want the snow to get in.

Snow is still getting in, though, for fuck’s sake.

And there’s absolutely zero give in ski boots. It’s all hard plastic, digging into your calves.

Mark had bent through his knees a little and had told you, “No, it’s nice. Look, you can sort of lean into them. Takes less effort to stand.”

You know what takes less effort to stand?

Sitting down.

Going to bed.

Having a nap.

Preferably somewhere warm. Out of this fucking snow.

Yet you can’t do any of those things, because you’re stood on the top of a mountain, looking down a dangerously steep slope, and it’s snowing. Fat flakes obscure your vision, making you blink and squint fiercely, frowning as you try to follow your friends right to the edge.

You see how Mark checks his phone, holding up your whole group, and you half wish that he would just keep moving so you don’t get more than a second to think about what you’re doing. The other half of you wishes that he’d stall for another hour. Or two.

With hunched shoulders, chin tucked into your coat, and eyes barely open, you wait. Joe uses the moment to slide himself in between your skis from the front, smiling as he taps the goggles on your helmet and says, “Put these on. It’s easier to see with them, even if the sun’s not out. Especially as the snow will feel like it’s going sideways when we go down.”

You doubt you will go down that fast.

God, this is supposed to be a fun trip, but so far, the fun you had envisioned the four of you to be having feels miles away. Nonexistent, almost. You kind of wish you had never left the country.

You’re inside of a fucking cloud, and you can’t feel your fingers. Not properly anyway. You’re holding two ski sticks and your hands are inside of two thick stiff skiing gloves, but Joe just said to put your goggles on, so you give it a good shot and try your best to move your goggles over your eyes. It’s tricky though, because you can’t get a good grip since you’re entirely unable to see or feel what you’re even grabbing at.

“Here,” you hear Joe laugh and feel how two bare hands, no gloves, move your goggles from your helmet to your face.

“There you go.” He says, smiling, giving them a little tap with his finger before he pushes both his hands into his gloves again.

You’re not sure if this is helping your vision at all, but at least it’s all a little less bright now.

“Is this what skiing is?” you ask warily. “Because I’m not sure if I’m made for this…” you’ve had skiing lessons, but it’s different when you’re up on an actual mountain without a person in a bright red coat to help you down safely, especially in bad weather like this.

You had never considered snow to be bad weather before, but this is… everything about this feels scary, and insane, and illegal. Like this should not be allowed. Why do people willingly take these idiotic risks in the name of fun and games?

“See you at the bottom!” Poppy shouts, and before you even register what she’s said, you see a bright pink snowsuit shoot down, followed by Mark who is just as fast.

It’s nice that they’re having fun.

Mark and Poppy are constantly laughing, cutting each other off, and clanging their ski sticks together. They’re bumping into each other for a cuddle as they wait for you and Joe, and never seem in too sour a mood for a mid-slope snow ball fight...

It’s a different experience from the one that you’re having, and you silently wonder if you should suggest for you to maybe take the chair lift back down again. For you to maybe go back to the cable cars that took up the mountain this morning. Meet everyone later, preferably somewhere warm. Out of this fucking snow.

“Of course you’re made for it.” Joe says, far too generous with his compliments. “You’re good at this. I’ve seen you ski, you know how to do this. You’re an expert.”

“Liar.”

“Come on,” Joe laughs. “I’ll carve out a path that you can follow.”

Which is a really sweet suggestion, but he’s got two much more flexible boots strapped to a snowboard, and snowboards tend to leave icy patches behind. You’ve not even quite mastered going down a perfectly prepped snowy slope, let alone a big plane of ice.

Your friends should count themselves lucky that you’re not panicking at the look of how steep every slope actually is. Even the blue runs.

Joe jumps a few times to move his snowboard from between your skis, hops and slides a bit as he waves his arms about to balance himself.

“Ready?” He bends to check his straps.

You’re not ready, but you’re glad that at least your legs aren’t strapped to a singular board. The restriction of movement is quite enough the way it is. You don’t need your feet bound together like that.

Positive thoughts.

Joe starts his ascend and, like he said he would, he leaves you an easy path to follow.

It’s only about three minutes later that you think maybe it would’ve been better if your legs wouldn’t have been able to move independently from one another.

You’re unsure how you’ve ended up where you are, but you do understand that you weren’t meant to speed up the way you had. Weren’t meant to have steered yourself in the direction you had. Weren’t meant to lean on one leg and raise the other off the ground for balance.

From down where Poppy, Mark and Joe are waiting, all they were able to make out was how you suddenly went too fast before you disappeared in a big cloud of snow by your own making.

Everything’s white.

And you’re in pain.

There’s shouting coming from somewhere on your left. Far away. Down, you think. It feels like that should be down, but you’re actually not sure.

There’s a blinding pain in your leg.

Sharp.

Something’s pulling. Like it’s twisted a way it shouldn’t. A way it can’t.

You’ve landed on your back, skis still attached to your boots somehow, and snow is falling directly into your face.

Fuck.

Your knee hurts.

You’re bowing your back to alleviate pain but, it’s not enough, and your breathing quickly becomes short and shallow to help you manage the pain you suddenly have to deal with.

Shit, shit, shit.

Somehow one glove’s come off entirely, and your wrist hurts from where the strap of one of your sticks yanked at your hand.

Fuck.

You vaguely hear your name, followed by a distant, “You okay?” as the snow you’ve kicked up settles around you along with all the flakes falling from the sky.

You don’t get the chance to answer. To shout back that, no, you’re not okay. Something’s wrong with your knee.

Next thing you know, a small avalanche covers your arm from a skier who stops to check on you, and they speak to you in what you think is German before they ask, “Are you okay?” in English with a heavy accent. They hold your glove out to you as they tower over you, something they likely must have picked up as they approached you.

Embarrassment overtakes you entirely as you don’t want attention from strangers, you’re just a clumsy cow, so you attempt to sit up.

“Yea, I think s–”

Oh no, fuck, fuck, shit.

It’s futile.

You’re bum rests on the back-ends of your skis, your knees up in the air, so sitting up is a job for your abs and your abs alone. You’re simply not strong enough.

Where the fuck are your arms?

Why aren’t they working to prop you up?

Your knee hurts.

Why are your boots still attached to your skis?

You need to get out of these skis.

You need to move.

“Don’t move!” Joe suddenly sounds a lot closer, and the swishing of waterproof fabric, of feet digging into the snow as he does his best to rush his way up the slope, sounds like music to your ears.

“Stay still! You’ve got to– stay still, you’ve–”

“My knee! It’s my knee, I need to–”

“Stay still!” Joe sounds more panicked than you do, and that alone is enough for you to listen and follow his orders.

You can’t see how your knee looks twice it’s width.

How your lower leg looks like it’s no longer connected to the rest of you.

It’s a harrowing sight that Joe doesn’t want you to see, so he repeats, “Stay still, stay still, stay still,” through quick breaths, and disappears from your vision just as quick as he had popped into it, falling down to his knees into the snow by your feet. You feel some pulling, followed by a build of pressure as two hands take a firm grasp of your calf.

Through your padded trousers, it feels like Joe’s not wearing any gloves.

There’s some talking between Joe and the stranger but you barely follow any of it.

All there is, is white wet snow, thick flakes that somehow look grey when you stare up at the sky like this.

All of a sudden, there’s your glove. Someone is holding it out to you, and you’re surprised to find yourself reaching for it. Your arms are fine. That’s good.

There is snow, and there is pain.

There is prickling behind your eyes from tears.

A throat that feels sore from the cold air you’re inhaling in quick pants.

The ski stick of the stranger gets used to unclip your boot from the ski, and the relief is instant.

There’s more distant shouting, and Joe barks back a loud, “No!” over his shoulder that makes you flinch.

Joe catches it, immediately apologises, because he doesn’t want you to move, and says, “Please don’t move. You can’t move, okay?”

“Is it bad?”

“I–... I don’t know.” Joe answers honestly.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“I don – what?!” You feel Joe get up a little, coming into your vision just slightly as he looks down the slope. Someone shouts something you can’t really quite decipher, and then Joe answers, “It’s on the map! Check the map!”

The stranger tells Joe he’ll go down to help, and for a moment, it’s just you and Joe and snow and pain.

You can still barely see anything, the snow falling down is a wash of specks that seems to be picking up more and more and, then, suddenly, Mark is there.

“Mark,” you raise a hand in hopes of your best friend grabbing it, so happy to see him there.

“Hey– oh my God, that’s disloca–”

“Did you call?” Joe cuts him off, voice stern enough to shut him up instantly.

“Poppy’s ringing them. I couldn’t get any signal. Hey,” Mark drops down to his knees in the snow next to you, just like Joe did before, but he doesn’t leave your vision. “Do you even know what happened?” You see how he immediately uses his mouth to remove a glove before he moves his own ski goggles from his face, revealing a pair of worry-filled eyes.

You wish he’d put them back on.

You’re glad your eyes are covered, still, because it means that the tears you’re silently blinking from your eyes go unnoticed.

“How did you even do that? Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

Too many questions at once.

You can’t answer any of them.

“Mark,” Joe catches his attention, tells him to use your skis to make a stand-up cross in the snow a few steps up the slope to prevent any other accidents with oncoming skiers. “I don’t know how quick they can be here.”

“Who?” you ask, voice suddenly so very small. Your throat feels tight. Maybe the tears don’t go quite as unnoticed as you thought.

You shift slightly, and, fuck. Your knee really fucking hurts.

Did Mark say dislocated?

“Careful,” Joe says when he hears you hiss, and you hate how you can’t see him. “Don’t want you to move. Is your jacket riding up your back? Do you feel any snow getting in?”

“N-no, I’m– I–” you can’t get through your words and take a shuddering breath instead. If anyone knows what you sound like when you’re about to burst into sobs, it’s Mark.

“I’m here, I’m here. Shh, hey. It’s fine, I’m here.” Mark’s back at your side, and it’s becoming more and more difficult to keep your sobs inside.

You don’t want Mark.

“Joe?” you ask with a shaky voice as one arm reached for him, and it’s a good thing that you miss how Mark’s face drops a little. How his head turns to Joe who’s still holding your leg. For a short moment, the two men look at each other, both unsure of how to react to that.

“They’re on their way!” Poppy suddenly shouts, and all three of you turn your heads to see a pink vision of a person enter on your right, making your group complete.

“Took me a second to figure out where we were, but they’re coming.” She turns to you. “Babe. That looked sick.”

“Pop,” Mark warns.

“What? It did.”

This was meant to be fun.

Your arm is still reaching for Joe, and with Poppy there now, Mark decides that he can take over his job of holding your leg in place.

“Here,” you hear Mark say by your feet, “Get your gloves back on, mate.” And with some new touches to your painful leg, you understand Mark and Joe have switched places. Joe moves Poppy out of the way and kneels down next to you, hovering over you, close to your face, finally in your line of vision.

“Do you want the good or the bad news?” Joe smiles down at you, sounding impossibly sweet. You understand it’s to keep you from panicking.

His nose is red from the cold, and somehow focussing on that works like a lifeline.

“Neither.” You’re not sure how wobbly your lips are – if they are even able to wobble at all in these low temperatures.

“Okay. Can you answer some questions instead?”

Joe asks where you can feel pain. If your head is okay. If your back feels fine. If you know why you suddenly started speeding up so fast. If you still think Poppy’s pink outfit is fucking ugly, which gets a loud laugh from Mark, and an offended “Hey!” from Poppy.

Joe also asks if you’re crying when he notices how you’re doing your very best to control your breathing. Says, “Oh, poppet!” through a sigh when you try to shake your head no, obviously lying. For comfort, he links his arm through yours, because holding hands is impossible when wearing these gloves, and he leans down to press his cold lips to yours.

They still feel warm.

“You’ll be okay. I promise.” Joe comforts. “They’re going to take you down safely, and we’ll be having some hot chocolate before you know it, all right?”

“J-Joe,” you stammer, but before anyone can say anything else, Poppy suddenly says, “I can hear them!”

The arrival of the mountain rescue team is meant to relax you, you’re sure. Help is here. Things will get better now.

Except, it kind of does the opposite.

It’s scary to let yourself be manhandled by people you don’t know. You listen to two men talk to each other in a language you don’t understand as they prepare to lift you onto a sled attached to a snowmobile. Mark gets moved aside, away from your leg, and you hold onto Joe even tighter as your leg slowly gets straightened.

You get told to relax, and you wish you knew how.

They’re moving what hurts.

Shit.

You’re freezing.

Fucking terrified.

Fuck, fuck, shit, shit shit shit.

Suddenly, an extremely painful snap makes you scream involuntarily, and you feel how Joe squeezes you impossibly tight as you burst into actual sobs now.

“Oh, Jesus,” Poppy comments, turning around to look away as she has a hard time pretending that any of that was easy to witness. Mark’s got an arm around her in an instant, doing his best to comfort her as well as you when he cheerfully shouts, “It popped into place! That’s good, that’s so good. It’s back in place. Trust me, that’s good.”

You don’t care if it’s good.

That fucking hurt, and the pain you’re left with now is somehow worse than before.

All you want to do is cry.

Preferably somewhere warm.

Out of this fucking snow.

Instead you’re left to cry in said fucking snow as two men lift you onto a sled before they strap you in, preparing you for the ascend. It’s only then that you realise that Joe won’t be coming with them.

With you.

“Joe,” you croak, and are immediately scared that you’ll be taken away too fast. “Joe! Joe!”

Poppy turns a curious eye to Mark, and she knows this isn’t the time, but she takes mental note to ask him how he feels about that later. About how you’re calling out for her best friend, rather than yours.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Joe coos, back on his knees again, close by your side. “They’re going to take you down to the cable cars we used this morning, all right? The three of us are going to find our gear and get our asses down as quick as possible to meet you there, okay?”

Their gear. Their snowed over skis and snowboard, he means.

How the fuck are they ever going to find those? Heavy snow has been falling this whole time.

They’re going to leave you on your own.

“Hey, hey. Shh. Don’t worry, we’ll be faster than you–”

“Joe, I–”

“We can take a few reds and blacks, and will be waiting for you there, all right? It’ll be fine. You’re okay. Don’t worry, it’ll all be fine.”

Joe leans down and kisses you again, warming your mouth with his once more as you silently cry.

“Joe, I–...” you falter, scared to say what you’re thinking, but the words are right there, and you’re scared, and in pain, and you’re cold, and you want Joe to come with you.

“I–...” you give it another shot, and see how Joe’s eyes suddenly double in size.

“Don’t you dare!” he begins. “Don’t you dare fucking say it right now! Not here. This can’t be–” he stops to laugh, and you can’t help the wet laugh that escapes you in return. “This cannot be the first time you say it, all right? Please save it for later. For when we’re inside and you’ve had your leg looked at by a doctor.”

“B-but,” you’re choking back tears as the snowmobile starts its engine, the two men now sat atop and ready to transport its precious cargo down a steep mountain. “I do.” you finish, just because you want him to know.

“I do.”

You said it without saying it.

It’s not exactly the same, it doesn’t really count, but Joe will take it.

“I know, me too.” Joe replies fondly as he knits his eyebrows together and leans down for one last kiss. He hates that he has to leave you, even if it��s for a short moment. “Me too.”

He’ll kick himself for weeks, months, for suggesting a skiing trip.

This was supposed to be a fun trip.

It still could be, Joe thinks.

You’ll likely not get back onto another set of skis very soon, but that doesn’t mean the trip’s ruined.

You’d almost said it.

Fucking silly.

He had been waiting around for you to find the perfect moment to say those three words aloud to him, just so he could say them back, and you were going to say them now?

Here?

Not a chance.

Not acceptable.

Maybe later, in the hotel bed, when you’re warm under the covers and safe in his arms. You’re allowed to say it then, and he’ll say the words back before yours have even left your mouth properly.

This was supposed to be a fun trip.

It still is.

Joe’ll make sure of it, he thinks, as he straps his board back onto his boots and doesn’t wait for Poppy and Mark.

“I do.” you’d said.

Asked for him instead of Mark.

“Me too.” he’d answered.

You said it without saying it and now, all Joe wants to do is hold you close and kiss your eyelids. He wants to kiss you on the eyes so fucking bad.

Preferably somewhere warm.

Out of this fucking snow.

---

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