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janitorhutcherson · 6 months

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Marked Only for Me (Olderbf!Mike Schmidt NSFW)

hii!! okay, i have never written smut before, so i am begging you all to plz be patient with me! this is very long, so my apologies.this is a part of my olderbf!mike series, so hope u guys likeee. also, for this let's make the assumption mike went to college and all of that before his security jobs. he just had burn out and was there, hence why he's working for a major company with what would be little experience. anyways, lmk what u think!

summary: mike comes home and needs to blow off some steam

warnings: nudity, sex, name calling, hair pulling, choking, marking, possessiveness, an implied free use situation, fluff at the end!!

word count: 2,925

nsfw after the cut!!

You were sitting at the kitchen table doing homework in the home you shared with your boyfriend, Mike. You're 20, a couple of years into college, drudging through math problems that make your head feel like it's sitting inside a frying pan. You had to admit this wasn't your ideal way to relax after a 10-hour shift at the bookstore you helped run. Things had been hectic with Black Friday, your store doing a special sale where everything was 50% off, and bookworms were coming out of random corners to fill their already overflowing shelves for cheap. Of course, being younger, you were the one who had to do the grunt work, carrying piles of books to and from inventory, dealing with the more demanding customers as your older coworkers would tell you that they "just couldn't handle kids these days" and that it'd certainly be better for the younger one to do it. Luckily, though, Abby was at a friend's house, meaning you didn't have distractions. You were as focused as could be with a cup of coffee beside you, the sunlight that was once beaming through the cracks of the blinds now completely gone. You were focused, your brain functioning as much as it would with the problems. Things were quiet.

...That is until Mike stormed in. He was frustrated, angry, an invisible red-hot aura beaming off him. His hair was messier than it typically was. The softness in his eyes was instead replaced with a cold look. His eyebrows were furrowed together on his forehead, his jaw sharp and defined as he gritted his teeth. Although this wasn't common, it wasn't necessarily rare either. Mike worked for a publishing company as a marketing manager. He'd gotten the job after a few months of hard work to make up for the slack on his resume after working at the mall and the pizzeria. He moved up the ladder quickly, his company admiring his friendly attitude and his somewhat shy but personable behavior. He loved his job much more than his past ones. He felt happier, got more time off, was less stressed, and was definitely safer. Even with that being said, sometimes shit just pissed him off.

Today's big issue was a meeting with his marketing team, which also involved the big guy over his head. He felt like he was criticized, demeaned, dragged through the mud, and all in front of the team he was supposed to be respected by, listened to. On a typical day, this might not have pissed him off so much. He might've mentally plotted the demise of his boss, but he wouldn't have caused the outburst he did at work, and today had been particularly awful. He'd been late, burned his breakfast, knicked himself while shaving, and even gotten into what he considered to be a little fight with you the night before. Even though you'd both settled the argument, made up, and kissed before bed, he had been thinking about it all day. He'd then spilled coffee on his brand new tie, leaving a stain, and then... that happened. Mike snapped. He yelled at his boss, showing his ass in front of everyone, causing a meeting in his boss's office to end with an inevitable write-up.

Now, he was home, trudging in all his bad energy, disrupting your study time. You couldn't even be frustrated with him, his demeanor proving he'd obviously had a bad day. You went to stand up to greet him with a hug, a kiss or two, but before you could, Mike stormed over to you, grabbing your arm harshly. You gasped, slightly thrown off by his sudden actions. He pulled you closer to him, his eyes locked on yours and his breath heavy against your neck.

"What the fuck, Mike?" you said, your eyebrows furrowed as you stared into his cold brown-green orbs.

"Listen to me," he grunted, his voice low and gravely. "I have had a very, very bad day, and I need you to be a good girl for me, okay? I don't want no shit, no back talk, you'll listen to what I say.. do you understand?"

His hand still gripped your arm, his fingernails digging into your skin. You could feel yourself starting to drip, your panties feeling damp against your skin as your body buzzed with excitement. All you could do was nod your head, your eyes locked on his as they clouded over with lust. Mike snapped his fingers in your face, looking at you from underneath his eyebrows.

"Use your words," he demanded.

"Yes sir, I understand," you stuttered out, your cheeks flushing red. Mike's face was now pleased, his entire demeanor softening a little. His hand stayed wrapped around your arm as he tugged you into the living room, pushing you roughly onto the couch. You huffed from the impact, your eyes widening as Mike dropped to his knees before you. He slid your sweatpants off, prying your knees open to reveal your see-through pink panties soaked beyond belief. His eyes were hungry, his mouth open, almost drooling as he looked directly into your eyes.

"All for me, babydoll?" he teased, his hand sliding in between your legs as he drew small circles around your clothed clit. You nodded your head as a whimper escaped your lips, the aching in between your legs only growing worse.

"What did I tell you?" he said, his words sharp as he smacked the inside of your thigh.

"Yes sir," you corrected, your words wavering after the impact from his hand. Mike nodded, satisfied with your answer, as he slowly slid your panties down your thighs, wasting no time. You gasped once again as the cold air hit your wet cunt. Mike exhaled sharply, taking a moment to admire you in front of him. His eyes trailed up to your pathetic look, your already-glazed-over eyes, down to your barely clothed chest, only a sports bra covering your breasts he loved so much, then down to in between your legs, where you were so wet, and all just for him. His lips trailed up to your tummy, sucking on the skin in different areas, from above your abdomen all the way up to right below where your sports bra stayed, purple marks forming.

He then dove in without hesitation, his large hands gripping your sides as he leaned in, moving one hand to take his index and middle finger to spread your pussy lips. His mouth instantly attached to your clit. You yelped as you bucked your hips forward, his lips meeting the sensitive area. Mike pinched your thigh, a sign to quiet down until he said to do otherwise, two of his fingers reaching out to be shoved into your mouth.

“Suck,” he demanded, his fingers going as far back down your throat as they could. You did what you were told, sucking on his fingers and drawing your own circles with your tongue. His tongue drew tiny and slow circles against the set of nerves, your hands reaching down to tangle in his hair from desperation. God, he loved eating you out. The way you yelped, quivered, shook underneath him, your hands tangled in his hair to keep yourself from going over the edge. He fucking loved it, you were the perfect cure to his anger, calming, something he could take it out on in a productive way that made everyone feel good. Your whines were suppressed as you bit your lip, your teeth digging into the softer skin. Mike pulled away for a moment, his eyes locking with yours once again as he admired your face, your now swollen lips.

“You know what, baby? Be as loud as you want for me now, princess,” he mumbled, going back to attacking your wet cunt. Slurping sounds filled the living room mixed with your moans and whimpers as his tongue slid up and down your slit, his lips wrapping around your clit to suck as hard as possible when his tongue wasn’t fucking inside of you. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. His cock was rock hard inside of his work pants, his own face flustered as he rocked back and forth against himself. His tongue continued to lap at your clit as he slid two of his large fingers in and out of you, your walls clenching around them. You could feel yourself drawing close and Mike could tell. Your thighs attempted to clench around his head, but before they could his calloused hands pried them open, holding them apart. Just as your eyes began to clamp shut, your thighs shaking as the knot in your stomach started to untie, Mike pulled away. You gasped as he slipped his fingers out, furrowing your eyebrows as you stared at him with an angry glare. He chuckled as he stood up, raising his eyebrows up and down as he leaned down, his hand lifting your chin up.

“Poor baby, was all ready to finish for me, hm? You were gonna be ‘Mikey’s little slut,’ weren’t you? That’s what you tell me you are, right? My little slut?” he teased, no remorse behind his eyes. You huffed, punching his arm before crossing your arm, too out of it to say anything from the knot that remained in your stomach but too angry to take initiative.

“Awh, don’t be mad, princess,” he snickered, shaking his head as he leaned further down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “You really think I’m done with you?”

With that being said, Mike pushing you back on the couch. His right hand held you down as his lift struggled to unbutton his pants. He pulled his pants down, letting them fall around his ankles as he yanked his boxers off, his cock springing out. He stepped out of them, letting you go for a moment to unbutton his shirt before tossing it off as well. Mike then looked over to you, leaning forward, ripping your thin sports bra off of your chest, your breasts now exposed to him. He licked his lips, excitement overflowing his body. He crawled on top of you, attempting to make the two of you fit on the couch. His mouth attacked your nipples, biting and gnawing at your skin. His mouth moved up to your neck, sucking and prodding and biting until purple marks were left all around, ones you were all too aware would be impossible to hide later on. He moved down to your chest once again, marks all across your collarbone, your tits. Mike’s hands gripped onto your neck as he sat up, looking into your glossed over eyes. He pressed his lips to your ear, a soft kiss against your earlobe.

“’M about to fuck you so hard you see stars,” he said, his voice causing prickles to cover your skin. Then, without hesitation Mike slammed into you, his pace staggered. Your moans were as loud as could be, the sound of skin hitting against each other and the echoes of both of your voices filling the living room. His thrusts were sloppy as he felt himself starting to get close to the edge, his hands pushing your hips down and into the couch. Your entire body sunk into the cushions as he used everything in him, his cock abusing your poor cunt. You swore you saw stars until you felt his hand gently smack against your cheek, your eyes averting back to his gaze.

“You’re gonna look at me when I fuck you, princess,” he growled, his hand sliding up to your hair as he tugged. You grew close, clenching around his length, your thighs starting to shake. Your core was threatening to come undone.

“Fuck, Mikey, baby, I’m gonna fucking cum,” you whimpered out, closing your eyes as your head leaned back against the side of the couch.

“Cum for me, baby,” Mike stated. You did as he demanded, finishing around his cock as your liquids gushed against him. His thrusts grew sloppier before he pulled out, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that baby? You did so good for me, listening to what I said, letting me use your pretty cunt,” he stated, his thumb caressing your cheek. He then resituated, pulling you off the couch, pushing you onto the ground. You were now in the same position he was in earlier, completely fucked out. Your lips were dull from exhaustion, your cheeks red and your hair knotted in certain areas. Mike’s cock was directly in front of you, his hand guiding for you to suck on him. Your lips wrapped around his tip, the tip of your tongue licking his slit. You worked your mouth down his length, licking the sides. Mike’s moans became frantic, desperate as your mouth worked its magic. His hand tangled in your hair as he pushed your head up and down, thrusting up into your mouth.

“That’s it, baby, feels so good,” he grunted. With no warning, Mike pulled out, spilling his load all over your face. He twitched, his moans loud and low, your tongue stuck out to catch his cum. His body laid against the couch, feeling heavy as his head leaned against the back of his couch. A tired grin was on his lips as you also smiled up at him, licking yourself clean. Mike looked down at you, a chuckle releasing his lips. It was obvious all of the tension and anger was gone, as his once cold eyes were once again the soft loving brown they used to be. He looked at you with adoration, always amused by how gorgeous you were even after rigorous activity and getting your face painted.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, picking you up bridal style as he leaned down to kiss you, not caring about his own load that was now on his face. He sat you down on the bathroom counter, grabbing a washcloth out of the cabinet, running it under warm water. He started to wipe away all of the liquids covering your face, pressing kisses to your skin here and there, looking your body up and down as he admired all of the marks he left.

“You always know how to make me feel good and how to take care of me after,” you croaked out, your voice laced with exhaustion as you smiled. Mike smiled back at you, his hand tenderly touching your cheek before pushing your hair behind your ear.

“I love you, of course I want to make sure ‘m taking care of you,” he said softly. His lips once again pressed against yours. “Thank you for letting me… you know.. blow off some steam,” he said, wiggling his brows.

“Of course, honey. I was worried, though. Is everything okay? Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, leaning forward as you slid off of the counter, grabbing a new washcloth and beginning to wipe his face with it as well. Mike sighed, shaking his head as he looked at her with sad eyes.

“I just- I got into it pretty badly with my boss at work and got criticized, I felt like a wounded animal, like I had to fight. I’m so used to having to fight that I don’t know how to shut up and listen,” he mumbled. “It was so bad, Y/N, and I got written up after that awful day I had this morning… I just.. I don’t know. I do know I feel better now, and would feel even better if we cuddled for a bit and then went out for food?” he suggested, spilling his thoughts to you. You giggled, nodding your head as you reached up to press a kiss to him. You dragged him into your shared bedroom, the two of you cuddling up together under the blankets. You turned to your side, your eyes locked with his.

“I love you, Mike, so much. And I’m so, so unbelievably proud of you. Thank you, for always making me feel good too, for taking care of me, for being such a good brother to Abby, just… thank you,” you said softly. Mike looked back at you lovingly, his appreciation for you apparent.

“I love you, princess, you don’t even know how much,” he mumbled. His eyes were heavy. He leaned over and set an alarm for an hour from now, the two of you planning on a night of dinner out and grocery shopping. He curled his arm around you lazily, your body limp and exhausted against his as you yawned.

“Oh, and baby?” he asked. You hummed, lifting your head to meet his eyes. “Wear a crop top when we go out, I want everyone to see you all marked up.” You giggled as you laid your head down, drifting off to sleep.

When you two went out, you did just that, wearing a cropped scoop neck shirt with a low-rise flowy skirt. He showed off any marks you’d left, too, your possessive boyfriend holding you close anytime someone’s eyes linger too long. Mike was strange, possessive, and sometimes a little of what most would say was unsettling, but to you, he was the love of your life, the man who made you feel good, the one who fucked you until you couldn’t think. You loved him, and you always would, blessing you with a lifelong supply of angry sex and aftercare cuddles.

#josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson imagine #mike schmidt smut #olderbf!mike

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bet-on-me-13 · 4 months

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The First Supervillain

So! A Typical "Early Start" AU where the events of The Show happen early in the Timeline. Like, in the 70's or 80's.

Danny never quite managed to fix his Public Perception, and even years into his career people still saw him as the Villain.

Coincidentally Valerie was seen as a Hero because of how often they were seen fighting. Even after they revealed their Identities and got together, they still had the occasional Battle. It was their love language.

His role as the Villain was Cemented when Pariah launched his Second Invasion of Earth after some dumbass accidentally freed him, and Danny took the Blame for it. Instead of being seen as the Hero who battled Pariah and stopped the Invasion, he was seen as the Tyrant to launched the Invasion in the first place, with Red Huntess being the one to defeat him in one final Ultimate Battle.

And honestly? He was fine with that. Now that he was the King of the Ghost Zone, he had the Authority to Regulate the Portal so villains stopped getting through. And that meant that he wasn't needed to stop random Ghost Attacks anymore. He could finally focus on College and his own Life, instead of sacrificing everything to act as the Protector of the Human Realm.

Val continued to be a Hero for a few more years, eventually retiring when it became Clear that the new generation of Heroes could pick up the Slack.

He went to College, got a Job as an Aerospace Engineer, and eventually proposed to Valerie.

About 20 years since his initial Accident, and he was doing great! He had moved into a humble home on the edge of town with his loving wife Val, his beautiful daughter Ellie, and his cute dog Cujo.

Yeah, life was good.

Until the day Danny accidently caused a Mass Crisis.

...

Superman was having some extreme trouble in dealing with his current Opponent. He had just been flying around the City, patrolling as Usual, when all of a sudden he had been attacked by a Flying Mech Suit.

At first he had assumed that Lex was giving it another Go, but he quickly realized that was not the case when the Armor seemed to Phase though solid matter in the middle of the battle. Lex had never made Tech advanced enough to do that on the fly.

This opponent was tough too. Strong enough and Durable enough to go blow for blow with him, and seemingly able to pull Advanced Weaponry from out of nowhere whenever he wanted. As tough as it was to admit, Superman as losing the Battle.

Then, without warning, the battle stopped. His opponent was staring at the space just behind him, with a look of pure dread. He turned around, and his heart stopped.

Floating behind him, staring right past him and directly at the Mech Suit, was the First Villain Phantom.

He looked much the same as when he had last been seen, although he was definitely Older. He had snow white hair, and glowing green eyes that seemed to stare right past him and into his very soul. He was wearing what seemed to be a costume of sorts, with an all black suit, white gloves, and white boots. Over his Shoulders sat a Cloak made of Stars, and above his head sat a Crown made of an Icy Blue Fire.

The Mech tried for a greeting, "Er- Hello t-Lord Phantom. How do you d-"

"Skulker."

"Y-yes?"

"What are you doing here? I thought I gave you explicit orders to stay in the Ghost Zone until further notice. You disobeyed me."

"Okay look. I got excited, that's my fault. It's just, I got anxious waiting. Can you really blame me? I've been waiting 20 years to take another Crack at the Human World, what's it matter if I left a few weeks Early?"

"I told you. You were supposed to wait exactly 20 Years, and you left Early. This calls for punishment."

"No wait!"

"Let's see how you feel after a few days as Soup."

The Villain pulled out a Thermos, and in a flash of green light, Skulker was gone, and the King was capping the Thermos. He then turned to Superman.

"I apologize for him, he decided to leave ahead of schedule." The King addressed him. "Now, Kryptonian. Rest and tend to your wounds, you will need to be in your best health if you want to continue saving the lives of those people below us."

With a dramatic flare, the King reached up and Tore a hole in Space. Through the Hole, Superman could only see an infinite Green Void, with the sound of screams cheering being heard through the rift.

The King departed through the Tear in Spacetime, and it closed behind him.

Superman tried to collect himself, and activated his League Emergency Comms.

"Attention All Founding Members, and Justice League Dark Members. This is Superman calling for an immediate Emergency Meeting."

He took a deep breath.

"Phantom is Back."

#Dpxdc #Dp x dc #Dcxdp #Dc x dp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Phantom is the first Supervillain #Red Huntress is the first Superhero #Danny/Valerie #Danny x Valerie #When Valerie and Danny battled against Pariah Dark they both managed to beat him #So they both became the King and Queen of the Zone #But nobody knows this and thought that Hero Red Huntress had defeated Villain Phantom #Danny went along with this since if was just easier and he didn't plan to ever break out the Phantom Persona again #Until Skulker decided to break the terms of his Parole #Skulker was supposed to be released in a few weeks but he got excited when he learned that a new Rare Species had become a Hero #He violated his Parole and left to the Human Realm Early #Misunderstandings #Now Superman thinks Danny is planning an Invasion of the Human Realm #They need to find Red Huntress #she would know how to defeat Phantom #Too bad for them she never let her identity be revealed

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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months

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Congratulations! It's Triplets. Part 3

@unadulteratedsoulsweets said: In Congratulations! It's triplets! As much the entire thing is so wholesome I wanna see some bit of angst. Imagine dis the entire family is out in public.Includes the Batfam, Jazz and the triplets for a huge family bonding activity. Some random person( a karen) commented on how Jazz is a teen mother, an irresponsible person, a whore... Etc (you know the usual comments of being a mother too young) and the Batfam reaches the conclusion that the Pit Rage transfers onto the kids as two of the triplets have already green glowing eyes with rage filling it by the second and ready to tackle/punch the person who made the comment but the last of the triplets have their other "siblings" by their collar but despite holding the two back they too have their eyes switching from blue to eery toxic green and was one second to join them to murder whomever bad mouthed Jazz

It's not that Jason didn't think that the Pit would only have repercussions in his life. He just always assumed it would only be his life.

He never considered the possibility that it would affect his offspring in any way. (Besides having a father that was completely mad in Pit Rage)

Maybe it was a pipe dream to think that or maybe it was just having hope that his messed up second life had already been hard enough so the universe was going to give him a break on this one.

The three small children currently growling at a reporter, eyes flashing in and out of green, told him that wasn't the case.

It had started off as a fun little day out. Jazz and the kids mainly kept to themselves in Wayne Manor. Bruce had housed them in the west Annex, a place usually only used when guests of high importance would stay in the Manor's history.

It came complete with its own kitchen, bathroom, sitting room, seven bedrooms, and three bathrooms. It even had its own entrance that usually stayed out of sight of the main gate- a compelling feature for Jazz, who didn't want her kids in the limelight until everything legal was settled.

The distance between the two buildings was one acre, giving the family of four the privacy they needed and keeping them close for Jason to get to know.

As far as Jason knew, Jazz had not revealed the father of her children to anyone.

As far as the world knew, Jazz had recently moved to temporary housing until her insurance could help her rebuild her house or, if she was at a total loss, find new housing.

Thankfully, no one thought it strange as they weren't the only ones displaced. Poison Ivy's latest Save the Earth stunt targeted overpopulated neighborhoods guilty of destroying the land to build upon (in her own words).

She returned the favor and broke down the buildings to give back to the Green. Never mind the people inside the buildings or the livelihoods she destroyed in progress.

Ivy had gone through five streets before the Bats stopped her and returned her to Arkham Asylum.

It's been a week since the incident. Jason hasn't seen much of his kids, not for the lack of trying, but it was hard to fit their schedules. The three were in school most of the day, and when they got out, Jason usually had to run to prepare his "nightly" job.

He couldn't just slack off- doing so would mean those scum bags that didn't directly work for Red Hood would think that they could get away with breaking his rules.

He had slowly been dividing his responsibilities among his men- drug dealing, weapon dealing, illegal car races, prostitution, and protecting kids and street workers- so that he could have one night off without worrying.

That didn't mean he didn't see his kids at all. Jason usually had two hours a day with them, where he tried his best to connect to his kids, but the triplets seemed weary of him.

He could tell they didn't feel comfortable with him invading their space, so he tried to stay outside the annex. As someone who worked a lot with street kids, he knew never to break the sense of safety their hiding holes were to them.

Instead, he decided to meet his children in the open space between the Annex and the Manor.

The four-five with Jazz casually reading on the Annex floating balcony. Jason pretended not to notice she was doing so to keep an eye on her kids- would sit down at the garden table to have an after-school snack, enjoying the multiple rose bushes nearly as tall as him that Alfred cared for.

It was always one of Jason's favorite Wayne gardens because it often made him think of magical castles with giant mazes and lovely scattered flowers.

He noticed that his eldest- Dan- might have felt the same, given how the boy would sometimes spread his arms and run through the rose bushes pathways. He even picks up sticks and plays knights against invisible enemies.

(Jason pretended he was a knight in these gardens when Bruce first took him in.)

Danny, his second, seems more interested in lying underneath the rose bushes and reading about the stars. If Gotham had clearer skies, he think his boy would be a cat napping in the sunlight and sitting around at night to glance at the starlights.

His daughter seemed even more adventurous than her brothers. She often would test Jazz's patience because she wandered away from the Annex garden to explore the others. Jason had seen her climb statues and trees to get a better viewpoint, marking whatever she saw on a little map.

He got a look at her map and felt his heart swell at the childish little drawings- Damian's painting corner in the east Garden was now "Artist Alley", the south garden had a dragon fountain so Dani had decided it was "Dragon Keep" and she had found the north floating balcony where Bruce liked to go practice his not so secret love of singing.

Dani had marked her map as "Siren's Side" with a cute little drawing of Bruce singing.

The more he learned about his three kids, the more Jason loved them.

Jazz wasn't kidding when she said she didn't mind him in their lives- she was just worried that he would try to take them, and with his money and connections, she wouldn't be able to stop him. Her worry bled into the three children, and with intelligent eyes that belied their five years of age, they would watch him with guarded caution.

The moment they would finish their snack, the three would make excuses to run off and do their own thing. Jazz would continue reading, but Jason wouldn't be a Bat if he didn't see the way she relaxed whenever the kids left the table.

It was rough....to want to be accepted by them but also understanding why a random man wanting a family connection would be difficult to establish.

That's why Jazz's suggestion that they all visit the zoo had been such a shock. She gave Jason a strained smile, but her eyes were soft. For a moment, Jason felt his heart skip a beat. "It would be nice for the kids to see the zoo with their...dad."

The five had headed to the zoo- with Bruce and the rest following behind in disguises because they are all nosy assholes. He had gotten so used to the clicking of Tim's camera- as his brother was over-excited to capture his nephews' and niece's first zoo outing- that he hadn't realized a second camera was following them.

They had just finished watching the penguins swim when Danny tugged on the leg of his pants. "Mr. Dad, sir. Can I tell you something?"

Jason's heart jumped. Is Danny starting to like him? Sure, he put Mr and Sir, but he called him Dad! Grining widely he kneed down to get to his level.

"What up, bud?"

Danny leaned in to whisper in his ear. "There is a man taking pictures of me in the bushes."

Usually, Jason would have told him something like, "Tim is weird, but he's harmless." However, he knew for a fact Tim was on the roof of the Penguin exhibit and that meant some random man was taking pictures of his kid.

Green bleeds into his vision slowly, and Danny jerks back, surprised by the sight. "Go with your mother-"

"Pervert in the bushes!" Dan's voice cuts Jason off. They both turn to the little five-year-old throwing stones into the surrounding bushes and a man stumbling out of them with a shout. "Pervert in the bushes"

Danny facepalms, which is not the reaction his son should have. How in the world did Dan even know the word pervert?

"Dan! What on earth are you doing!?" Jazz screams alarmed. She raced back, a tray with four ice cream cones in her hands, and Dani, not far behind, also carrying her own cone. The girls had gone to get some frozen treats for everyone not too long ago.

The man turns to her with a very familiar predatory glint in his eye. Shit, Jason knows who he is. He is a paparazzi and one of his kids called him dad in front of the stranger.

The man takes Jazz's picture, momentarily blinding her with the flash, before firing questions and taking more pictures of her reaction to each one, "Miss, are you the baby momma of Bruce Wayne? Or one of his many kids? How did it feel to be a mother so young? Were your intentions to get pregnant to have access to the Wayne Will? How much money did the Wyanes pay you for a night?"

What?

Jazz's eyes go wide, her face drained of blood, and she looks frozen in fear. "I don't-why would- I'm not!"

"Not a whore or not a gold digger?"

"Neither!" Her voice wabbles like she's about to break into tears.

Jason sees green. He is about to beat the disgusting pig to the ground but his children are faster. Dani races forward, little arm pulled back and throws her whole body into a jab at the paparazzi's manhood.

The man drops his camera in a wheeze. Dan smashes it with another stone, hitting the lens five times just to make sure it is broken and starts to advance at the man.

Dani is currently yelling at the top of her lungs, swearing, and punching the man with her belt buckle wrapped around her knuckles. It's satisfying to watch- his kids beating down a full-grown man with no training, just vicious righteousness to protect their mother.

That is, until Danny- the apparently more level-headed triplet pulls them both off by the back collar of their shirts. Jason sees it for the first time.

The kids eyes are glowing green.

Horror creeps into every part of his mind, and he doesn't even realize the creep is screaming about suing them or Tim and Bruce's fantastic entry to get a handle on the situation.

He is distantly aware of Steph and Cass, helping a silently crying Jazz walk away, and that Dick, Damian, Duke, and Harper form a protective circle around the kids, but it's Cullen that realizes Jason is frozen.

"Jason? Are you alright?"

No, he is not alright.

Pit's madness ruined his life. It left blanks in his memory. Left him lashing out and killing quickly. It makes him attack Tim and others. It made the child Jason used to be, feel sick and revolted.

It made it hard to look in the mirror and not be disgusted. It was everything that was wrong with him since the Joker took all his innocence away with his blasted crowbar.

Pit Madness is a curse that he has to live with sometimes where he claws at his own skin in a pathetic attempt to get away from it. But he could never escape its taunting whispers, its controlling green, or its presence sitting somewhere behind his eyes that turned him into a monster.

A curse he gave to his children.

He truly is Wills Tod's son, isn't he?

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Warning: bits of self-hate #Paparazzi are scum #Jason trying to connect to the kids #The kids: You shall not succeed #Jazz thinks Jason is sweet #In a strange turn of events it's Danny the voice of reason among the triplets #Congratulations! It's Triplets #part 3 #angst???

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tasteleeknow · 1 year

Text

BETWEEN

PAIRING: minho + chan x fem!reader GENRE: smut. fluff. f2l. roommates au. threesome/poly. CONTENT: 18+ minors dni. WORD COUNT: 5k

SUMMARY: Your two roommates are your best friends in the world. You’d also love nothing more than to be sandwiched between them. Queue tension and smut with feelings.

do not repost to other sites, including translations.

It’s laundry day, a day you’ve put off a little long. You end up grabbing a shirt from Minho’s clean clothing he’d left in the dryer to throw over your head as you wait for your own load to finish. Neither of them were around. You’re leaning over the counter to grab a paper towel when the front door opens. You peak around the corner just as Chris is throwing his shoes aside. Okay, this is fine. The shirt is just long enough to hang over the tops of your thighs, covering the pale blue underwear you’d slept in.

There’s no escape. You’re going to have to face your friend in your underwear. Be casual about it, you tell yourself. It’s not a big deal. You really needed to stop putting off doing laundry.

You continue with your task, wiping down the kitchen bench as your eggs fry. “Are you hungry?!” you call out. “I’m making breakfast if you want anything.”

He was always up before you and Minho, spending his early mornings at the gym.

“I’m starv…ing….” he trails off from behind you. Alright, so he’d noticed the no pants thing. Act casual.

“Good, I’m making extra. I thought—”

Then he’s behind you, not quite touching, but hovering so close you're forced to pause your cleaning. He leans over you. “You can wear mine, if you like,” he says, tugging a little at the hem of Minho’s t-shirt.

Then he’s gone. The shower starts just as the dryer announces your clothes are ready.

—

You’d hoped your regular nightmares would be left in childhood. But as you’d grown out of your favourite shoes and your allergy to soy, your nightmares had stuck. The first time you’d crept into Minho’s room after a particularly bad one, you’d nudged him awake hesitantly. He’d welcomed you under his covers, unquestioning. They stayed away with him, with Chris too the few times he’d fallen asleep in your bed. It was only when you were alone that your sleep was disturbed.

Minho is curled up on his side when you crawl under his sheets, shuffling as close to him as possible without touching. He still stirs when you roll over to face the edge of the bed. He would always wake up when you joined him. He connects his front to your back, as always. But then, with a small contented noise from his throat, his hand slips up under the hem of your shirt—his warm palm resting against your stomach.

This is new.

“Min?” you whisper.

When he doesn’t respond, you roll over. His hand slips to rest on your back. You reach up to brush his hair behind his ear, tucking the soft strands away from his eyes. His hair was longer than you’d ever seen it. He hadn’t bothered getting it cut. He hums, almost a purr. He’s awake. “Does it bother you when I sleep here?” you whisper.

His brows pull together slightly and then he tugs you a little closer, pressing you right up against his chest. You have a feeling that’s all the answer you’ll be receiving.

You watch as he drifts off. It only takes him a few minutes. His features go slack, lips parting slightly as his breathing evens out. You follow him shortly after.

It’s only a few hours later that you find yourself staring at the ceiling—Minho’s legs tangled with your own. The nightmare that had led you into this room had been particularly bad, startling you awake with a racing heart. You’re usually fine after joining Minho. But not tonight. It’s enough that you find yourself creeping from his bedroom in the early hours of the morning, completely giving up on more sleep. It’s unsurprising when you find Chris awake, lounging on the couch with a book in his hands. He often had a worse time with sleep than you did.

“Nightmare?” he says as you settle into his side, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Mm. Nothing new, it was just… more intense.”

He lifts the woollen blanket off his legs and drapes it over you. “Intense?” he questions.

“He-It… stood right over me. It usually just gets to my door before I wake up but… it walked right up to my bed and just… stood there. It felt like he was going to lunge at me any second… it was—” you cut yourself off as you bury your face in his shoulder, a shiver running up your spine.

“You’re alright,” he soothes. “Promise.”

“I know. I just… I hate sleeping alone.”

Minho chooses that moment to stumble into the room, fluffy socks sliding along the floorboards as he runs his fingers through his hair. He collapses onto the couch beside you seconds later, dropping his head into your lap as he stretches out as much as he can along the cushions.

Chris huffs out a breathy laugh beside you, draping his arm over your shoulder—book forgotten. “Problem solved,” he says.

“Where’d you go?” Minho mumbles from your lap, eyes closed.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you answer as you brush his hair from his face, the soft brown strands a pleasant occupation for your hands.

A bolt of lightning lights up the room, drowning out the soft glow from the lamp Chris had been using to read. “The storm?” Minho questions as you play with his hair, stroking some of the strands around his temples.

“My dreams,” you correct.

“You don’t have them with me.”

“I know… but the one I had earlier just lingered, I guess.”

All three of you are quiet as rain starts falling, the type of rain that falls heavy with no build up—creating a curtain between you and the world.

“Stop sleeping alone, then,” Minho says. “Just stay with me.”

You take a moment to process his meaning. Then, “Everynight?”

“Mm.”

The corner of your mouth lifts a little. They were so good to you, both of them. “Love you,” you whisper as your fingers brush the shell of his ear.

He says nothing, his upper lip twitching a little.

You told them both as often as you could. You loved them more than anyone on earth. They had to know. It had morphed though, the type of love. That was always how you knew you’d end up loving someone. You had to know them so completely that you were safe, comfortable. Love them as friends, then as lovers.

It was the way Minho would keep one eye on you in public, when he knew you’d get overwhelmed. He always managed to catch onto when you wanted to leave before you’d even had a chance to voice it. He was quiet with his love, softly spoken words of comfort that you’d absorb without moving a muscle. If you moved, he might startle—shrink back into his comfort zone.

Chris’ attention was a little different. Rambling words, tripping over himself as he told you about his day. A hand on your back as you made your way through the busy weekend market. While Minho kept his eye on you from a distance, Chris was up close—physical contact and direct questioning.

A clap of thunder rumbles through the sky as Chris detangles himself from you. “Hot chocolate?” he asks.

“Mm, thank you.”

“Minho?” he prompts.

The man in question grunts out something that Chris interprets as a yes. “Three hot chocolates,” he says as he disappears into the kitchen, leaving you with a half asleep man in your lap. You continue playing with his hair as the storm intensifies. You’d always liked storms. They formed a protective barrier from the rest of the world. The air was washed clean, the suffocating heat of summer days was quashed, and no one expected anything from you.

You begin tracing over the tiny scars and imperfections that mark Minho’s face, little traces of evidence from his life before you’d met. It was hard to imagine that you’d ever been without him. It was only out of ignorance that you’d endured it.

“Do you really not mind if I sleep with you?” you ask, hoping he won’t retract his offer. “You won’t get sick of me?”

His eyes flutter open, long dark lashes visible even in the dim light. “I like it,” he says simply. I love you, you hear.

—

It’s an easy routine to fall into. Your room becomes a glorified closet as you spend each night in Minho’s instead. He even puts up with your pillow talk, and on nights where he’s particularly energetic, he offers a few thoughtful comments in addition to his hums of acknowledgement.

The feeling of the mattress dipping as someone sinks into the bed behind you wakes you. It’s the smell of his shampoo that tells you it’s Chris that wraps around you. “You awake?” he whispers.

“Mm, couldn’t sleep?”

“Yeah,” he confirms.

Minho makes a small noise before draping his leg over you, smacking his lips before stilling again. You’re completely enveloped now, two warm bodies sheltering you from the darkness. Chris didn’t join you often. You’d spent a few nights with your back to the dark room wishing he would. Minho’s bed was centred in the room. You preferred having yours pushed against the wall. It felt safer.

Chris makes a small contended noise as he presses up behind you.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he whispers after a moment, breath ghosting over your neck. “You bent over the counter… your thighs…” It takes you off guard. You know what he’s talking about, despite it being weeks ago that he caught you in Minho’s shirt. You find yourself unable to breathe, heart thumping so loud you're sure he must hear it. “It’s wrong—dirty to think about you that way,” he continues. “I know. I know I shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

A pause. “What?”

“Why is it wrong?”

He’s quiet. Then, “Because you don’t want it.”

“How do you know?”

His hand rests at your hip, a comforting hold. He’s quiet as you reach down to take his hand in yours and guide it up to your lips. You press a kiss to the side of his hand, just below his thumb. A slow kiss, one you hope conveys all the meaning you intend it to.

When you release him, he doesn’t move. Not apart from brushing his thumb over your lips. He can’t see at all what he’s doing, still behind you in the dark room. He goes by feel, playing with your lower lip until—with a tiny amount of pressure—he pushes inside. Your lips wrap around him, taking his thumb as he presses it to your tongue.

Then he starts whispering, “I wanted to hold you down, press you into the counter and lift the shirt a little higher.”

You hum around his thumb, wrapping your own fingers around his wrist to hold him there. You’re not dreaming, you’re sure of it. You’re awake and sandwiched between the two people you love most. It’s surreal. This was always the way it would have gone. Chris was always going to be the one to bring you all together, finally.

He continues, “How would you sound?” His breathing is heavier now. “If I fucked you against it? Would you make pretty little noises? Would you say my name?” His thumb moves in and out a little as you suck at it. “I can’t stop thinking about it. How warm are you… how would you suck me in…”

Minho makes a small noise and you both still, waiting to see if he’ll wake.

“Have you ever heard him whine your name?” Chris starts again. His low whispers are a little more hushed now. “He tries not to. He tries so hard. He usually does it in the shower, when he knows you aren’t home.”

Your grip tightens on his wrist.

Chris continues, “You know how he is: he’s shy.” Warm lips to your neck, a firm press. “He wants you though.” His nose brushes the skin behind your ear as he nuzzles a little further into you. Then he laughs, quiet and breathy. “He was so casual when he said you should sleep here, like he doesn’t wrap his hand around his cock and imagine he was brave enough to fuck you into the mattress.”

You pull your lips from his thumb, leaving it wet. “Are you—Are you sure?” you whisper, attempting to turn your head to face him. His hand wraps around your throat, holding you in place and preventing you from turning.

“I’d never lie to you, baby.” His fingers are gentle at your neck, his thumb stroking your skin slowly. “I love you.” It’s surreal hearing those words in such a new context. Whispered into your neck as his wet thumb traces patterns against your throat. “Should we wake him up? We’ll have to be gentle,” he murmurs into your hair. “Don’t want him to startle.”

“Chris?” It’s almost a whine.

“Mm?” he hums, hips pressed right up against you now.

“Love you too.”

His fingers press slightly into your neck as he adjusts himself behind you. “Mm, I know.” Then his hand drops from your neck, across your hips, to your lower back. He pushes you a little, moving you across the mattress towards Minho. He still has one leg draped over yours. “Make sure he does. I’m not sure if he knows the same way I do.” He nudges you a little more. “Go on.”

Minho’s lips are parted. You reach to brush his plush upper lip with the tips of your fingers. Then, with far too much gentleness for someone trying to wake a person, you snake your hand around the back of his neck and into his hair. “Min,” you call gently as your fingers caress his scalp. “Minho.”

You watch his brows furrow as he stirs. Then his eyes flutter open. His lashes were visible even in the dim light. As you watch them flutter you’re reminded of a morning you’d awoken to find him half draped over you, his face buried in your neck. As his eyes had blinked open only minutes later, you’d felt them—his lashes tickling your neck like the fluttering wings of a butterfly.

“Mm?” he hums now, still blinking himself awake.

“I love you.”

He frowns, then grumbles something under his breath before rolling over away from you. You suspect he doesn’t understand how you mean it, that you don’t mean it exactly the way you always do. Another tactic then.

“Do you think about me in the shower?”

You feel the bed dip a little, Chris moving behind you. A tiny muffled noise follows. He was laughing into your pillow.

Minho is still.

You attempt to repeat yourself, “I said do you—”

“I heard,” Minho says, still facing away from you. His voice is rough from sleep. “What is he doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” the man in question answers from behind you. “Was kept awake by thoughts of bending our girl over the kitchen counter.”

Our girl. Our girl. Our—

Minho sits up. So quickly it startles you.

“Are you gonna answer her question?” Chris prods.

Minho rubs at his eyes as he turns to face you. You sit up, partly just so you can reach up and smooth down a tuft of stubborn hair that sticks out from his temple. He licks his lips. “What’s happening?” he mumbles.

“I love you,” you repeat. He looks at you now, in that way that clearly betrays the cogs are turning. You press your lips together in poorly suppressed fondness as he processes.

“You… love me?” he says finally.

You press a kiss to his cheek in answer, an innocent peck.

“Answer the question,” Chris says from his reclined position on your pillows, clearly enjoying the show. You don’t turn to him, but you can picture the grin on his face clear as day.

Minho blinks. You decide to help him a little, “In the shower?”

His eyes drop, breaking eye contact.

“I have too,” you offer. “I’ve thought about you.” His eyes are back on yours. You’re half tempted to call a pause so you can flick a light on. The darkness is stealing the depth of his brown eyes from you. “I only ever think about either of you—both of you sometimes. I felt a little guilty… I-I didn’t want you to—”

“Both… of us?” he interrupts.

You can only nod. What do you say to that?

Then he’s looking over your shoulder, engaging in a silent exchange with Chris. They did this often. You wonder if they’re able to communicate without words because they were merely remembering conversations they had when you weren’t around. Had they had a conversation about you? About this?

An arm snakes around your waist. Chris drops a soft kiss to your neck, pressing himself so close behind you you’re practically enveloped by him. Safe. Minho reaches towards you, it’s hesitant and you hold your breath as his fingers brush your cheek. Don’t startle him.

“Me more though, mm?” he asks with a small tilt of his head and a lopsided smirk.

Chris rocks you to the side a little as he laughs, detaching Minho’s palm from your cheek. That’s the way he was: Minho. Layers of wit and charm blanketing a soft interior. You don’t give me a chance to retreat any further, falling forward out of Chris’ arms and forcing Minho to catch you in his own. He helps you settle in his lap, lifting you a little as you rearrange your limbs.

“This doesn’t mean I wanna share with anyone else,” you start as you brush the hair from his face. “Just us, yeah?”

He nods. His eyes flick over your shoulder and then drop to your lips. “Just us,” he agrees. Then his lips are brushing yours, teasing just like his words so often are. You pull him to you properly by the back of his neck, his grown out hair offering you plenty of leverage to hold him where you need. He lets you take from him, lets you guide him. Teasing… and then giving. That’s the way he was.

Chris settles himself behind you. He litters your neck with kisses as you squirm a little in Minho’s lap, attempting to have more, more, more. Your arms are practically wrapped around his head as you lift a little on your knees, grasping at his hair until Chris is pulling you off him. You take in the way you’ve left Minho as you’re tugged back against the other man. His hair is a mess, lips wet and slightly parted as he catches his breath. You’re tempted to reach out and grab at him like a baby reaching for candy.

But then you’re distracted, tipped onto your side and pulled tight against a solid torso. “There’s no rush,” Chris says with a breathy laugh. “He’s not leaving.” You meet Minho’s eyes as Chris returns his thumb to your mouth. “There you go,” he encourages. “Good girl.”

Your breathing settles back into a normal rhythm. He was right. You’d been frantic, desperate. If you rush it’d be over—the last thing you want. You can’t help rolling your hips a little though, not when Minho is looking at you the way he is, watching as you suckle on Chris’ thumb. They were yours. Take your time.

You reach for Chris’ wrist, wrapping your fingers around it as Minho lays his head on his pillow. Chris rolls his hips into you as you pull his finger from your mouth, slowly, right to the tip. He presses his finger back in before you have a chance to do it yourself. You tug him free of your lips. “I thought there was no rush?” you whisper.

His lips ghost over your earlobe as he speaks, “Am I being greedy?”

“You stole her,” Minho answers before you can.

“I saved you,” Chris argues before pressing his lips behind your ear. “She was devouring you.”

“Maybe I wanted to be devoured.”

You reach for Minho’s hand and bring his finger to your lips, pressing a kiss to his fingertip. Chris resumes his grinding as you slip Minho’s finger into your mouth. Devour. It feels like an appropriate description as you lay there sucking on his finger with Chris leaving messy kisses at your neck. “What would you like?” he mutters between kisses. “Tell me what you want.”

It’s a loaded question. You decide to answer as simply as you can, distracted by the way Minho watches you suck on his finger. He licks his lips as you pull him from your mouth. “Fuck me like this. Just like this. Surrounding me.”

“Surrounding you?” Chan questions, his hand at your stomach holding you firm against him.

“Mm. Feels safe.. I-I like being between you.”

He presses his face into the hair behind your ear. “You’re safe, baby.” His hand slips into the waistband of your shorts. “Always.”

Minho shuffles a little closer to you, close enough that he can replace his finger with his lips. You go practically limp as they each prepare you—Chris with his fingers playing with your cunt, and Minho with his tongue in your mouth and his hand up your shirt. Surrounded. It’s so easy to lose yourself like this, to roll your hips and grasp at Minho’s hair, to forget about any shame as you let small whimpers escape into his mouth. Chris is playing, it’s the perfect word to describe the way his fingers prod and swipe at your cunt. He must feel how you drip for him, how his fingers slip easily through your folds, but you’re alone with the desperate pulse—the emptiness that begs to be filled with a dull throb.

Minho makes a small noise as you tug a little too hard at his hair. He squeezes your breast in his hand as punishment, his palm warm and perfectly sized to hold you. “Are you getting desperate again?” Chris mumbles into your neck. “Be gentle with him, baby.”

You whimper a little, nipping at Minho’s lip in defiance. He pulls back a little and a flood of anxiety floods into your chest at the thought he might be leaving, that you’d pushed it too far. But then he’s shuffling down the bed and lifting your shirt up, tugging the fabric up above your tits. He stays there, his breath warm against your nipples as his fingers trace patterns across your skin.

“Listen,” Chris whispers. His fingers speed up without warning, strumming at your entrance—too low to brush your clit. His goal is clear when the wet sounds of your slick fill the room, his fingers stopping their rapid strumming to prod at your hole every few seconds. You should be embarrassed, you would be in any other situation. But not here. Not with them.

You feel Minho’s whispered, “Fuck.” His breath is hot before he latches onto your breast. It’s a wonderful distraction as your shorts and underwear are tugged down your legs and discarded, as Chris aligns himself behind you and slips his cock between your legs. The tip brushes your click as he grinds into you like this. Minho’s head is perfectly placed to entangle your fingers in his hair and hold him to your chest as he continues sucking at you.

It should be overwhelming. It’s all new and so much, so, so much. But it isn’t. You’re home. You’re surrounded. You’re with them. You practically float as you’re pressed between them, as they consume you.

You’re grateful Minho insists on sleeping with the air conditioning going, now more than ever. Heat surrounds you. Minho’s hot mouth at your breast. Chris’ cock hot between your legs and his warm chest pressed to your back. Heat.

“Do you want me now?” Chan says, voice a little strained. His cock nudges your entrance, tip prodding and retreating over and over. “You want me to fuck you into Minho, hm?”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Yes.”

His teeth graze your skin as he pushes in, the ghost of a bite—followed by a low moan. You cling to Minho as you’re filled, holding him to your chest as his tongue laves at you—devouring.

You squeak as Chris pulls out and fucks back in suddenly, shoving you slightly up the bed. Minho makes a small sound before reattaching himself, determined not to be disturbed. Chris is a little gentler after that, deep and slow rolls of his hips that have you pressing into Minho each time. Eventually he detaches from you and moves up the bed. You expect him to kiss you. Instead he keeps just fair enough away that you can’t lean forward and capture his lips. He watches your face, traces his eyes across your features as Chris fucks you from behind.

You should feel exposed. But you don’t. You always liked when his eyes were on you. He reaches to lift some hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear as Chris fucks into you. Then he leans in, so close his lips brush yours. Each thrust of Chris’ hips bring you tantalisingly close to joining. Teasing and giving, that was Minho. You wait for him to give. It only takes a minute or so longer. Then he’s pressing right up against you, practically crushing you between their two bodies as he bites into your shoulder.

You cum with Chris’ fingers on your clit and Minho’s teeth on your neck.

“Do you want my cum?” Chris groans. “I’ll make you all messy for him. Do you want that? He can fuck it back inside you for me.”

All you can do is nod, a weak noise accompanying it. Minho’s lips are on yours a second later, wet and messy as you let him take what he needs. He swallows the whimper you release as Chris shoves into you one last time and releases inside you. You’re surrounded by heat, pressed between them tightly.

Chris grinds into you again for a moment, panting into your neck as you lay full of him. “Love you,” he murmurs finally.

Minho leaves a peck at the corner of your mouth. “Okay?” he asks. Your fingers massage his scalp a little as you hum in response.

“Need you though.”

“Now?”

“Mm. Now… in the morning… tomorrow night too.”

He smiles, lopsided and satisfied. “Why?”

“Love you.”

He drapes a leg over you as Chris slips from behind you and disappears into the bathroom. “Sorry?” Minho questions with a smirk. “Couldn’t hear you.”

You tug at his hair. “Don’t be a brat.”

He rolls you onto your back, pressing you into the mattress. “I do think about you,” he says, voice taking on a softer tone. He switched like that often, letting his walls down without warning. “Not just… not just in the shower. I think about you when I’m at work… when something happens and I’m stressed or—” he pauses, lowering himself onto his elbows. “I think about you a lot.”

“About fucking me?”

His nose scrunches as he drops his eyes. “Not just that. Just… in lots of ways.”

“I love you too.”

He drops his face to your neck as Chris reenters the room. You roll Minho back onto his side, allowing Chris to resume his position behind you—how you liked it.

It’s a little slower when Minho presses his body to yours and fills you. Less frenzied than Chris had been. He grinds his cock deep, pressing you into Chris’ chest. You silently curse the years you’d spent in your own bed, all the nights you could have been pressed between them like this. It was only out of ignorance that you’d endured it. If you’d known how it felt to be sandwiched between them, to be full of one’s cum as the other fucks it deep inside—

“How does she feel?” Chris asks as his fingers wrap around your throat, a gentle cradle.

Minho groans in response, reaching to your hip to give him leverage as he sheathes himself right to the hilt. You forget to breathe as he speaks, “Hot… Hot and dripping, fucking sloppy.” Your breath is forced back into your lungs as he suddenly pulls out and fucks back in. “Listen.” He jostles you into Chris as he speeds up, filling the room with the wet sound of his cock fucking the cum into your already wet cunt. He was shy. He was your shy best friend and he was demonstrating how wet you were to the man pressed to your back.

You latch onto his neck, forcing him to slow as you press your teeth into his skin. His hips stutter a little before he resumes, a scattered pattern much less controlled than the one he’d started with. You lick at the bite mark when you’re done. “You’re so good,” you whisper. “You’re mine.”

When he cums it’s with a gasp of your name. You imagine it’s how he sounded in the shower, how he’d sounded all the times he’d thought of you. Had he ever thought of you like that a few hours before you’d crept into his bed to seek comfort.

Chris reaches over you as Minho catches his breath. “Let me feel,” he whispers before his fingers are on you, playing with your dripping entrance and strumming at your clit until you cum with his hand around your throat.

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cryptidghostgirl · 3 months

Text

Make You Wish Chapter Three -- A Reunion

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Previous Part: Chapter Two -- Where Is She

Warnings: Another pretty tame chapter ngl. Mild mention of murder I guess??

Word Count: 1,195

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Make You Wish Master List

A/N just a reminder that my requests are open :)

"Blitzo, can't you just deal with whatever it is on your own?" Y/n groaned, rubbing her temples in irritation as she stepped out of the office, "I swear to god, if this is some joke? I'm gonna kill you."

There was the quiet, indiscernible drone of the TV. Other than that, the room was silent. Y/n looked up, her eyes falling on the wall beside the office's door and the people who stood before it.

Moxxie, Millie, and Blitzo in a quiet, tense line. She raised her eyebrows, nearly smiled.

"What the fuck is going on?"

Blitzo uncharacteristically said nothing, simply raising his hand and pointing to the entry way. Y/n's eyes narrowed, her muscles tensed and ready for a fight as she followed the path indicated by his gesture. The hand on the knife at her side fell slack as her gaze landed on an achingly familiar face.

"Holy shit." she mumbled, her mouth falling open a little.

"Yeah, uh, he's been asking for you?" Moxxie nervously explained, "You didn't... I mean, he's the Radio Demon. He hasn't been seen in years, you didn't fuck with him... did you?"

Y/n felt tears press behind her eyes again as she took a tentative step forwards. Then another one. Slowly, she crossed the room to the taller demon who just stood there with a smile, watching her all the while with his arms folded behind his back. Y/n peered up at him, her eyes narrowed as they met his own.

The one person in the whole world she'd been practically dying to see. There was a pain, he was the cause and the cure of it. Hesitantly, she raised a hand and poked his nose.

"Shit." Blitzo muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly as Millie let out a subtle gasp.

"Are you done?" Alastor asked, his voice crackling with irritation as he looked down at Y/n, whose arms were now crossed over her chest.

"I had to make sure you weren't a dream." she shrugged, turning her head away, "Mox was right, you've been gone seven years."

"Are you mad?" he teased, leaning down towards her ear.

Y/n rolled her eyes, turning to face him once again. She scowled at the man for a moment before a smile broke out across her face.

"I never could stay mad at you." she admitted, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"I..." Moxxie trailed off in confusion.

Alastor slowly wrapped his arms around Y/n's waist.

"Mills, start planning a funeral." Blitzo scoffed.

Before any of the trio could say another word, he had lifted her off her feet and was spinning her in the air.

"Al!" Y/n shrieked through her laughter, "Stop it! You'll mess up my hair!"

He set her down again and the pair released each other.

"You menace." Y/n shook her head, still laughing, "It's like you knew I was thinking of you."

"You were, were you?" he teased, leaning down to her level.

"Y/n, do you know the Radio Demon?" Millie interrupted, taking a step forward.

Both Alastor and Y/n turned to face her.

"What, this old freak?" she asked, elbowing him gently.

"I resent that." Alastor hummed and Y/n laughed again, her joy unbridaled.

"Yeah, we're friends." Y/n confirmed, catching the genuine concern in her friend's eyes, "Known each other for about as long as I've been down here."

Alastor nodded as Y/n looked back up at him.

"Speaking of the old days," he hummed, looking her up and down, "what's this new look you've got?"

"Huh?" Y/n looked down at her clothes before turning and meeting his eyes once again, "Oh, I'm an assassin now."

"No no no, my dear." he shook his head, "This simply wont do. I can't have you wandering around looking like some ragamuffin."

Alastor snapped his fingers and Y/n looked down to see she was wearing a dress now. She almost yelled at him, almost tore him a new one and called him a dick. Then she realized what dress it was she was wearing. Y/n looked up at Alastor with wide eyes.

"This is..."

"The dress you murdered your husband in, yes."

Y/n squealed, throwing her arms around Alastor's neck and pulling him in for another tight hug that he reluctantly accepted. Letting him go, she spun around, watching the way the skit splayed out from her legs.

"You remembered! Oh, Alastor! Thank you."

"The fuck." Blitzo muttered to himself, watching the scene playing out before him.

Y/n beamed up at him as Alastor raised a claw, looping it through the circle on the collar Y/n still wore. All of her other accessories and clothing had vanished, as he had intended, except for this. He hummed thoughtfully and Y/n's cheeks grew hot with shame. She looked away.

"What's this then?" he asked, letting the ring fall from his finger.

It hit the leather of the collar with a quiet thud.

"Look, I... made some bad choices." Y/n sighed, refusing to meet his eyes, "A physical sign of a very real metaphysical decision I had to make."

"Quite possessive, to cast a spell like that." Alastor mused, "You always had a thing for that though, didn't you."

Y/n raised her arms, wrapping them tightly around her body at the harsh remark. She made to move away from him but, as she did, Alastor grabbed Y/n's chin, forcing her to look at him. He watched her expression carefully.

"You could have come to me. You know I would have taken that delectable little soul off your hands in a moment."

"Yeah well, you weren't here." Y/n firmly stated, taking a step back so he no longer held her, "I did what I had to do to survive."

Alastor raised his eyebrows.

"And who exactly did you make this... bad decision with?"

"Al, can we please talk about this later?"

"They don't know, do they."

"They do." Y/n insisted, "I just... please, not now."

"Fine." Alastor relented after a moment.

The pair fell silent, Alastor's critical gaze interlocked with Y/n's indignant one.

"Sooo," Blitzo began, breaking the awkward silence and drawing the attention of the room off the pair and onto him as he took a step forward, coming to a stop beside Millie, "you two fucking?"

"Jesus, Sir!?" Moxxie exclaimed in shock.

"You can't be serious, right?" Y/n laughed in surprise, "No, Blitzo, we're not fucking. The day Alastor has a sex drive is the day Heaven is overrun by... I don't know, giant killer bees?"

"It's more likely than you think, dear."

"What's that-"

Alastor cut her off mid sentence, placing a hand over her mouth as he caught the images flashing across the TV on the other side of the room.

"Hey, rude." Y/n scoffed, pulling herself from his grip.

Alastor ignored her. With a flick of his finger, he raised the volume on the TV. At the sight of his narrowed eyes and tight smile, Y/n turned to see what exactly was bothering him so much.

----

Next Chapter --> Chapter Four -- Vox

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evie-sturns · 4 months

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𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 - 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰

summary: you've been pissing chris off all day, accidentally knocking his stuff over, purposely teasing him in public, to the point where he starts to get seriously mad at you to the point where he has to put you in your place.

warnings: smut, rough!chris, use of safe word, argument, swearing.

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I didn't know that what i was doing was affecting chris this much, I mean, today has just been like any other. I hung out with my boyfriend of 2 months, chris, the whole day with his brothers and friends.

he seem's to be extra on edge today, ever since i broke one of his cologne bottles.

(flashback)

hey chris, im just gonna head downstairs- SMASH

"oh fuck i'm so sorry i'll clean that up now-" i said, getting on my hands and knees and collecting the shards of black glass. "y/n just go downstairs, get out of my room please." chris spoke, glaring down at me. "i'm so sorry chris, i can buy you anothe-" i was cut off by him picking me up and placing me outside of his bedroom.

(present)

me, chris, nathan, nick and matt are sitting on the sturniolos couch as the sun sets through the window to our right, a dim light fills the living room as matt and nick have an argument, god knows what its about.

im cudding up to chris's side, my leg resting over his thigh as he scrolls on his phone aimlessly. ive been sitting here for about an hour, i think chris is still pissed about the cologne bottle incident. i hate to admit it, but chris when hes mad is the hottest version of him.

i move my leg from his thigh up to his lap, using my leg to rub him very softly through his sweatpants. he grabs my leg, pushing it off him "stop that." he whispers, shaking his head at me. "stop what?" i ask, a guilty smile tugging at the corners of my lips as i move my leg back to its original position, applying more pressure on his crotch.

right before he's about to grab my leg again nathan starts - "whos up for top golf!" he says, looking around the room with a smile on his face. "nate its late." matt speaks, leaning back against the couch.

"so you're boring?" nate tuts.

"fine, only if the others go though." nick says, standing up off the couch. "chris, y/n?" he says, looking at us.

im about to agree but chris answers for me "were staying here." he says, his tone angry.

i look at chris with a confused look, but hes back to scrolling on his phone. "well me, matt and nate are going, we'll be a few hours." nick says, grabbing his coat and phone.

matt and nathan follow nick out the door, giving me and chris a small wave before slamming the front door shut.

chris stands up, leaving me on the couch, he faces me "what the fuck is wrong with you!" he yells. "what?" i say defensively, moving back against the couch, my eyes widening from the sudden raise of his voice.

"what!!??" he mocks, before starting

"this whole day you've been on my last nerve, and I'm sick of it. You've ruined half the shit in my room then you start touching up on my dick in front of my brothers?"

my jaw is slack, in pure shock as he flames me, i can't help my attitude start to build up, i scoff "not my fault you've been sensitive and pissy all day, sorry that im clumsy today?" i bite back, rolling my eyes.

chris stares at me "you have no respect for any of my shit, youve gone and shattered my $450 cologne that nick got me and you expect me to be happy? pathetic." he yells.

a few tears drop from my eyes, i don't know why. his words aren't hurting me but he knows i can't deal with people yelling at me. my attitude keeps up though "if you're gonna be so sensitive go cry in your room christopher." i fold my arms.

chris storms out of the living room, slamming the door to the bathroom shut.

i wipe my eyes before standing up, running upstairs into chris's room. its already been decided that im staying the night here by nick, so i decide to get into my pyjamas.

i pull my shirt off over my head, revealing my white lacy bra which i especially wore for chris, i was expecting a different evening with us.

suddenly i hear the bedroom door open behind me, chris storms in before walking up to me, i swing my body around to look at him. he grabs me by my throat, i gasp loudly as he grabs me, throwing me down on the mattress.

i sink my teeth into my bottom lip as i look up at him, before pulling him down into an angry kiss. he pulls away, ripping off his shirt. "built up a bit of an attitude today haven't you?" he mumbles, yanking my shorts and panties off in one motion.

he reaches a hand under me onto my back, flipping me over onto my stomach.

he grabs my ankles, forcing me onto all fours. i whine, desperatly. "so needy aren't you." he says, yanking down his sweatpants. i look over my shoulder at him.

"hand behind your back." he demands, putting his hand out. i put my hands behind my back, chris grabs both of my wrists with one hand. holding them, forcing me to arch.

"chirs.." i groan, squirming slightly, his hand collides with my clit. "fuck!" i yelp, chris shushes me "why do you think you deserve my dick after giving me such an attitude today hm?"

he lines himself up with me, pulling my wrists closer to him, my chest and head are fully off the bed as my back arches more then i knew it ever could.

without warning her slams into me, i let out a loud cry from the sudden stretch. "dont. make. a noise." he says, slamming into me at a brutal pace. i let out pathetic whimpers as i'm held in place by him.

he reaches his spare hand round, shoving two fingers in my mouth.

chris has never been like this in bed, im in total shock as he fucks the attitude out of me.

without warning i clench around him, releasing the knot in my stomach. his thrusts don't slow, i wouldn't be wrong if i said they quickened.

im so sensitive, my vision blurry as he takes what he needs from me.

we've had a safe word established for a while, we made it while we were in a stupid mood, so it has a stupid name. 'dinosaur' , but ive never even thought about using it until now.

"chris.. chris chris." i groan, tears streaming down my face from the intensity. "fuck- d-dinosaur" i cry out, chris stops thrusting instantly, checking to see if he heard right.

"dinosaur.." i whisper.

chris pulls out instantly, he gently releases the painful grip on my wrists, as he collapses down next to me, sitting on the bed, pulling me onto his lap in a cradling me.

"hey hey.. don't cry sweetheart." he whispers into my hair, grabbing his shirt and pulling it onto me. "are you alright baby? too much?" he coos, rubbing my arms. "please speak to me gorgeous."

i nod into his chest, "im fine, just sensitive.." i stammer.

"oh okay i'm so sorry" he says, pure guilt in his voice as he stands up, holding me like a bride.

suddenly i let out a small laugh, he looks down, confusion painted across his face.

"wait.. whats funny?" he questions

"what were we thinking when we came up with that safeword." i laugh into his chest.

——-----------●∘◦❀◦∘●●∘◦❀◦∘●--------------———

this might be my last fic for a few days cause school is starting up tomorrow.

#sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fluff

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brighteuphony · 3 months

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On the way back from Tea Country with Chakra-poisoned Kakashi tryna "casually" fish for some info before Sakura comes in with the one-hit KO on accident.

So she's got some complicated feelings for Kakashi as well, though they're a lot milder than what she feels about Sasuke.

There's a moment in my AU where Sakura goes through a deep reflection ritual, in which she has to face Inner Sakura -who is representative of all the ugly truths her day-to-day self hasn't been able to face- and come to terms with who she is.

During that time, she's got to face the music.

The music:

Sasuke is the last prodigal son of a clan that was brutally butchered. He's a genius with one of the most powerful dojutsu out there (that he has no idea how to use) and is coming in hot with more baggage than an airport terminal.

Naruto is not normal. She doesn't know what he is (as in-canon, she finds out after the time-skip and the Sakura from above is right on the cusp of Shippuden), but there's nothing normal about a kid who can pull wild orange chakra and who can fight Gaara's tailed beast and come out on top. He's got the personal attention of the Hokage, but the entire village has banded against him for some reason. He's special.

Kakashi is a war veteran turned Jounin and an infamous ANBU captain (I headcanon that some ANBU names are leaked specifically to generate a healthy level of fear/caution among other villages- which is why we know of Itachi/Kakashi/Shisui very publically) and is ALSO the last prodigal son of an old noble clan.

(No way a bookworm like Sakura didn't consume every publically available scroll on Konoha clans).

It doesn't take the big brains to figure out that he got team 7 specifically to help deal with Sasuke's trauma/teach him about the Sharingan, and put a leash on Naruto (and in the future, when she finds out that Madara was able to control the Kyuubi with the Sharingan as well as the knowledge that Kakashi was Minato's student it becomes even clearer why he got the Sasuke/Naruto combo.)

And Sakura? Sakura is a civilian. No clan, no dojutsu, nothing to her name except great chakra control. She's the literal meat in the meat-grinder of the military machine of Konoha, the acceptable sacrifice in a group of otherwise invaluable shinobi. She's just a...girl. (And it doesn't help that she was obsessed with Sasuke instead of training, furthering the gulf between her and Kakashi.)

Kakashi was absolutely not built to handle her- in fact, Kakashi has NO idea how to relate who hasn't gone through a mountain's worth of trauma or someone who hasn't been ingrained in the shinobi-as-a-tool lifestyle, and even then, he's not fully equipped to handle people who have (lmao Sasuke). Not to mention the man is a prodigy- he has no idea how to teach people who have to work hard to get somewhere in life. How do you teach someone if you've never had to 'work hard' to get there yourself?

So, Sakura understands that Kakashi was put in one of the most ridiculous situations of his career- a situation he had NO idea how to handle. She can forgive him for that. BUT, she can't forgive him for not trying his best.

Sakura spent a lot of time coming to terms with the fact that she rushed into the Chidori/Rasengan combo without a single idea of what she would do, but...Kakashi was a big reason for that.

She was HIS responsibility, and he fumbled that bag. Whatever his reasoning, whether it was to 'protect' her, or whether he thought she was worthless, whatever: he should have TRIED.

Kakashi was an adult with resources aplenty. He recognized that she had stellar chakra control but never bothered to teach her genjutsu or direct her to teachers who could pick up the slack.

And after the accident, he abandoned her again. Being forgotten in lieu of Sasuke and Naruto hurt...but she could heal. Being abandoned as some kind of martyr to Kakashi's failures as a teacher? It's gonna take a while for Kakashi to make that up to her...if he can muster the courage to face her.

Sakura finally understands why he preferred the memorial stone to the living. He already failed the dead, and it's easier to wallow in self-flagellation than it is to try and step up for the living.

Sakura stopped being a coward some time ago, and when Kakashi finally does the same, she'll forgive him.

Thank you so much for sticking with this wall of text! And thank you so much anon for the question! Once again, I really appreciate all the kind words people have been throwing my way. <3 <3 <3

#naruto #haruno sakura #kakashi #Blind!Sakura #Her teachers in order:#Chiyo: Medicine and Chakra control #Saeko: Genjutsu master who lives with Enji #Enji: Ninjutsu specialist and general cheerleader #Aren Uzumaki: Pirate captain and Fuinjutsu specialist #her necklace is a western style evil eye pendant - the last thing Enji gave to her before he passed away #coven!Sakura

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lovelybrooke · 3 months

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What’s up with MC? (Platonic yandere Hazbin Hotel immortal au)

So I've really wanted to write some stuff about reader and their life. I hope this helps you guys understand them a little bit more. This doesn't have much to do with Hazbin Hotel, but hopefully you still enjoy.

Trigger Warning for: Very bad/neglectful parenting, disassociation, talks of regretting a child, bullying, please tell me if I need to include anything else.

masterlist

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You were born a very small and loud baby. You cried and cried, even after your mother took you into her arms and laid you down on her chest. Even when your father took you for a few seconds so he could hand you to the nurse. And even when she rolled you down the hallways of the hospital to get your test done. It wasn't until you cried yourself asleep that it was finally quiet.

Life wasn't always so bad, back when your dad was around and your mom wasn't a drunk. Your father worked at a family pharmacy, had good hours and was home before dinner. Your mother stayed at home taking care of you. She would make you lunch, play games with you, and would even rent movies from the library to watch with you. In your childlike eyes, life was perfect.

Things weren't perfect though. In reality, your mother got pregnant young, forcing her to marry your father when she was 20. In her young, 20 year old mind, she thought she loved your father and he thought he loved her. So getting married seemed like the next step when she realized she was pregnant. And she loved you, she loved your smooth skin, she loved giving you baths, and dressing you up. But she didn't like the crying, and the sick days, and the clinginess. She hated having to be the one to deal with all those things while your father was at work. And when he was at home, he wasn't a help either. He was distant, they never talked or loved each other like they did when they were teens.

Your mother started drinking when you were three. It started off with wine at dinner, then at lunch and dinner, then at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Eventually, she started picking you up from Pre K drunk, the other moms could smell it on her. One mom told an admin who told the principal who told your mom that another parent would need to pick you up. You could faintly remember the fight your mom had in the parking lot and then with your father at the dining room table. Whenever your mom got like that, you imagined that you weren't yourself, instead you were a character in one of the books your mom used to read to you. It helped.

As your mom got worse, your father slowly stopped showing up. He said he had more work, his boss was getting older so he had to pick up the slack. When he was home, he was distant and cold. He never wanted to play with you, he treated you less like his child and more like an associate. As you got older you knew it was because he didn't want this life, he didn't like his 9 to 5, and he didn't like coming home to a drunk wife and a child he never desired to have. And when he stopped showing up, a part of you, even though you barely knew him, was relieved. It meant less fights, less loud yelling, and less time spent inside your own head.

You were a quiet kid all throughout school. You never were good at making friends, but it wasn't something that bothered you. With your dad gone, money got tight, and when you were seven, your mom started working at your local supermarket. It wasn't great, but it was better than having no money. That's also when she started smoking. You stopping kissing her goodnight because she smelt like cigarets. You felt bad, but she didn't seem to care.

When you were eight, you were trying to climb a tree in your backyard when you fell, breaking both of your legs in the process. You laid there until the bright blue sky became black, eventually falling asleep and having the strangest dream. Your mother didn't find you until the next morning, your cries being drown out by the beers and t.v. She took you the hospital where you were apparently fine.

When you were ten your father called the house. It was a Saturday meaning your mom would sleep in, and when you picked up the phone, you heard a voice you didn't know. It was old, manly, and angry. He was shouting something about money and credit cards, and when you hung up, he called again, and again, and again, until eventually your mother woke up. They argued for hours and when they were finished, your mother told you not to answer the phone again, so you didn't.

When you got to middle school you experienced bullying for the first time. A girl in your 3rd period made fun of your clothes, which your mother found at the thrift store. You never realized that you wore the same clothes every day until then, and so when you got home you learned how to use the washing machine. From that day on you did the laundry in your house, and when your mother suggest you make dinner, you did that too. It eventually became a routine, you'd go to school, your mom went to work, you'd get home and clean the house, do laundry, and make dinner, all while you mom watched t.v. It never bothered you, because if you didn't do it, who would.

The bullying didn't stop, even into high school. You were the poor kid with a drunk mom and an absentee father, you were the prime subject for bullying. It was never anything big, the occasional teasing and mocking, especially on days when your mother would pick you up. It was embarrassing, to have her yell at you from her old, beat up truck. Or when she'd smoke in the school parking lot. Or when she rant to you about work and get mad when you interjected. You got better as you got older ignoring it, ignore her, ignoring the way she made you feel.

When kids would talk about your dad, you'd make up a different person in your head since you never remembered who he was. You imagined him as a prince, handsome and knightly. You imagined dancing with him, him kissing you on the forehead before you went to sleep, and him telling you he loved you. You guessed that was the great thing about having a deadbeat dad, he can just kinda be whoever you wanted, even if it wasn't real.

When you were 15, you were working on a project after school when your mom forgot to pick you up. You were forced to walk home from school, alone, in the cold, when a car swerved your way and you fell unconscious. You were having the craziest dream until you woke up, in your bed, your mom asleep in the living room, game shows playing loudly on the t.v.

You stopped relying on your mother for anything after that. You stopped expecting her to help you, stopped expecting her to pick you up from school, or to even pay your bills. You got a job and started contributing what you could so you could keep the lights on. You knew it wasn't right, that this isn't how a parent should act. But she was still your mom, she still loved you, right? If not, then what was all this for.

---

A/n: I think I made readers life too tragic, sorry. Parts of this were based on my own experiences growing up but nothing this bad, so feel free to tell you what you think.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #platonic yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel #platonic yandere helluva boss #yandere helluva boss #helluva boss x reader

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noxxchive · 2 months

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mwah what up dawg can i requests dazai with a s/o whos very immature like laughs at the wrong time, whos laughs at inapporiate jokes and pranks kunikida. :33

YAHOOO hello hi hey anon!! TY for the request ehhehe MUA also dazai is so silly i wanna put him in a microwave *having a near death stroke*

✦ Dazai with an immature S/O ✦

♫ Walking On A Dream - Empire Of The Sun

✧ warnings : gn reader・ bad writing・slight hint at suggestive jokes・dazai being dazai (what else is new)・crack?・fluff??? (what the fuck is this help…)

✧ summary : some headcanons (my brain is fried) + you and zaza Dazai are a tad bit silly together at the agency instead of workin

w/c : 1K-ish

Youuuu two are pretty much the cause of Kunikida's daily headaches…

…though it's not just Kunikida losing his mind at this point, with both you and Dazai matching each other's energy, the whole agency is praying for peace every day.

Dazai feels prideful when he gets to get a little laugh out of you, it's easy for you to laugh at things and he finds it adorable

Your laughs and giggles feed his ego TRUST

His favorite moments are when you both seem to read each other's mind, later going back and forth between your ideas of how to annoy Kunikida

Both end up getting scolded and lectured by him, and in a worst-case scenario, he forces the two of you to sit as far apart from each other as possible while dumping piles of paper on your desks.

Your laughs also make him burst out laughing as well no matter how unfunny or serious the situation can be

With his way of wording things and your humor combined, it’s impossible for you to not snicker when he says the most normal things

“Dazai can you over real quick—” “I’m coming!” “…….that’s what she said LMFAOOOO”

A hundred percent made you laugh so much once that your stomach AND jaw were hurting

Dazai is silly, so it’s only fair he gets an ALSO silly s/o

…Today was unexpectedly boring. No special cases, no special encounters with the infamous port mafia… no special anything. Just paperwork. The only way to entertain yourself—and slack off from dealing with the paperwork and reporting on earlier cases—was to cause a little bit of chaos. The awkward silence throughout the agency’s office was killing you anyways…

You took a quick glance at Dazai who was sitting across the room and laying his chin on his desk, half asleep and bored out of his mind. He was quick to notice you looking at him and returned your gaze with his shit eating grin. The one that meant ‘nothing but trouble™’.

Your lips parted slightly to mouth the words ‘I’m bored’ to him, but Dazai was already spinning around in his office chair and wheeling his way closer to Kunikida’s desk.

“Heeeeey Kunikida~ So, you see, me and y/n are a teensy bit bored and I was wo-”

“Get the hell back to work, Dazai.”

The blond grumbled in frustration, not even raising his head from the monitor screen in front of him. His hands typed into the computer with speed, making a continuous clicking sound. Kunikida then paused, fixed his glasses and turned his head to you.

“…You too, y/n.”

He added, speaking in a much less annoyed tone than when he talked to Dazai. He immediately went back to working. The brunette sighed, getting back to his desk with a pout. Though, you knew that he was way too bored to have mercy on Kunikida today—or literally any other day.

Yanking one of the forms put aside on his desk in a swift motion, Dazai carefully turned it into a paper plane. He continued doing so until nearly half the pile of papers was gone and paper plane-ified. You raised your head from your own work and watched in amusement.

“Oh? You knew origami and didn’t tell me? Wow, ‘samu, can’t believe you’ve been keeping such great talent a secret from me!” You giggled, clutching your chest to add onto your dramatic act while spinning your office chairs’ way closer to Dazai. He grinned, busy adding the finishing touches to his 30th paper plane, “Oh I can do much more than some silly origami stuff, trust me on that.”

A chuckle escaped from your lips, loud enough for Dazai’s ears to catch it and smile with pride. He was so focused that he had even piqued Atsushi and Kyouka’s interest—along with Ranpo stealing glances from time to time.

You had long begun to help him with whatever he was scheming, making a few paper planes of your own and dropping the 45th? 54th? Whatever number paper plane onto his desk. While both of you were busy with your paper plane making, Kunikida’s laptop slammed shut; though neither you nor Dazai heard it or the sound of him stomping his way to the two of you. Dazai snickered while you counted the paper planes he’d made, going back and forth with the numbers as you kept losing count.

“Goddammit Dazai, stop distracting me! Unless you want to count all this yourself…” You grumbled and playfully smacked him in the head with the plane you were holding. He chuckled and opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when Kunikida cleared his throat.

It made you both sink into your seats, slowly turning to face him—arms crossed and impatiently tapping his foot.

“Dazai. Y/n. May I ask what you’re doing? It’s not work as far as I’m concerned.”

Kunikida’s tone was surprisingly calm… the calm before the storm, you thought. Dazai, completely nonchalant about Kunikida’s presence, held one of the paper planes up and above his own head and grinned.

“Entertaining ourselves since boredom is ought to kill us~ Why do you ask?”

Out of curiosity, you decided to unfold one of the planes to take a look at it’s contents. Your vision blurred for a second once you realized what all that paperwork that you had turned into planes actually was… While Dazai was busy showing off the paper plane he had in hand to Kunikida, you desperately tugged on his sleeve, tapped his shoulder, shook his hand, anything to get him to stop talking.

“Dazai… have you even taken a look at what those papers were about?” Kunikida cut Dazai off, brows furrowed.

“Hmm? Oh, no not really! What’re they fo—”

“They’re all boss’ notes and reports…”

You whispered to him in a shaky voice, eyes still glued to Fukuzawa’s signature at the bottom of the crumpled piece of paper.

“Handwritten notes and reports.”

All three of you turned your head to Ranpo, who was fiddling around with a bag of chips, struggling to get it open.

“Those are all handwritten by him. He left them on Dazai’s desk not expecting anyone to touch them, knowing that he barely—almost never works… Just thought I’d let you know.”

A long pause. Ranpo then turned his chair around and aside from his faint chewing, the silence in the office had become deafening…

“…Wow, nice work, detective Dazai Osamu…” You mocked, eyebrows knitted together.

“Hey! Don’t throw me under the bus like thaaaaat, you helped too! So cruel of you, bella…”

Dazai gave you a dramatic ‘hmph!’ and awkwardly turned to Kunikida—who was practically shaking in fury—with a sheepish smile, throwing the paper plane at his head followed by a nervous laughter.

“Nowwww before you do or say anything, Kunikida-kun~ In my defens-”

“…DazaaAAAIIII—!!!”

p.s : its been awhile since ive written and actually posted it so this is a bit wonky I KNOW im not this ass at writing please spare my life i have a wife and kids…

#𓂃⊹⁺༉ noxie one shots #bsd dazai osamu #bsd dazai #bsd dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #dazai x reader #dazai x male reader #dazai x gn reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd x reader #bsd x male reader #bsd x gn reader

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outlawyunho · 10 months

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Pretty - Shota Aizawa

word count - 3K synopsis - shota aizawa would do anything for you, even if it meant going past his comfort zone. warnings - she/her reader, drunk! reader, aizawa is the king of consent lets be real, coercion, reader is a horny mess but so is aizawa, aizawa is S-O-F-T for reader lemme tell you, some kissing, grinding, heavy petting (maybe?), dub-con if you squint, idk this was entirely self indulgent im not gonna lie to you minors do not interact

It's not like this was the first time he'd seen you utterly shit-faced. No, not in the slightest. He's known you for years, since high school when he was just a floppy haired emo boy and you were a goddess that decided three dorks were her best friends. He's seen you drunk countless times over the years, thanks to Mic and his ability to make you forget you are a grown up. A Pro-Hero at that. But you were too persuaded by your friends' efforts to have a good time. Shot after shot after shot- Aizawa lost count after the fifth double shot that you pounded back, giggling with Mic as Aizawa watched you wipe the liquor that was trailing down your chin. He should have known right then he was in for a hell of a night.

"Okay, just..shit.. okay.." He's struggling, he really is, between your limp body held to his chest by his strong arm that's wrapped around your waist and the effort it took to get you here, in his apartment, he's more than happy to tuck you to sleep in his bed and call it a night on the couch. Expect you're not only drunk, you're high. High off some dank smelling stuff Midnight pulled out of her purse while you were all waiting for the cab. Aizawa loves his friends but sometimes he loathes them so completely it drives him mad. Face pinched tight, the tips of his ears blushed a deep crimson. That's how he looked standing beside you outside the bar as you swayed and laughed as you hit the thick blunt Mic passed you.

He drops you as carefully as he can onto his large couch, winded and tired as he tosses his keys on the coffee table and loosens his tie. You lay there giggling to yourself as you stare up at him, your eyes redder than his at this point. His hair is tucked back in a loose attempt at a half up bun, the strands that normally lay over his eyes tucked neatly behind his ears, and his face is clean shaven and flushed from lugging your nearly limp body up the stairs.

"You're so pretty." You coo and fuck if it doesn't make his stomach flip- but you're drunk. Completely wasted in fact and he knew it when you had told Mic before the two of you had left that you thought he was an amazing singer. Aizawa knows for a fact that's a lie.

"Yeah, yeah. You're so fucking gone. How does your body even handle that much alcohol?" His voice is gruff but there's a fondness in it. Because of course there is. He loves you. Has loved you since said emo days. It's never stopped, never ceased in the slightest. Why else would he deal with your excessively drunk ass?

You stretch, either completely ignoring or just not hearing his words, stretch nice and big with your arms thrown over you head and your back arched sharply. A hollow moan rumbles out of your mouth and through his apartment and his eyes flicker to the velvet skirt of your dress that has fallen so dangerously close to exposing you. Aizawa looks at the ceiling, jaw clenching, fist balled up in the pockets of his black slacks.

"So pretty.." Your voice is far off, a gentle murmur to yourself as you keep staring at him like he put the stars in the night sky.

"Don't be ridiculous." He says about your comment because.. yeah, you're definitely beyond drunk right now. "You need to sleep this off, gonna feel like shit tomorrow."

It's like you dont even fucking hear him.

"Mm, but I mean it. Think about you so much." You smooth your bare foot down his slack covered thigh, your mouth parted and pretty as you say, "So pretty and kind and strong, drive me crazy, Sho."

Aizawa can't fucking breathe. Heart pounding in his chest as he looks down at the sight of you, looking so fucked out but he hasn't even touched you. No, this was all your own doing.

No. This was the alcohol. The weed. You didn't mean it, you were just fucked up.

"Angel." His voice is a warning and fuck if he can't see the way it makes your whole body shiver. Oh, this isn't good. "You are way too drunk and I am way too sober to have this conversation right now."

"I'm not that drunk!" Expect it's all slurred words and mashed teeth and if you weren't looking at him like you might consume his soul he might have laughed at that. "Don't you want me, Shota?"

God, his face is burning, dick twitching in his slacks and it washes deep shame through his body. He feels like he's fucking short circuiting, his resolve wobbling like your bottom lip as you look up at him with your most appealing doe eyes.

"How about, uh, I.. I make you something to eat and then you can sleep this off?" His voice is held together by a wavering thread, words filling his dry mouth as fast as he can form them. He can't do this right now. He needs you to carry your ass to sleep so he can go take care of the massive problem you've brought to life in his pants.

You sit up, teetering only slightly as you lean you head against the back of the couch and groan, rubbing your thighs together and fuck, Aizawa is doing everything he can to not think about that. You're so….needy.

"I don't wanna eat, I want you." You peer up at him, and he knows what you're about to do before you even do it. What's worse? He knows he's gonna fucking fall for it. Like he always does. "I guess you don't want me though.."

Your voice is pathetic, breathy and wounded, and your face is so downtrodden, that frown so deep it sends a pain through Aizawa's heart like a dagger.

He sits on the couch quickly, locking his gaze on your watery eyes. Fuck, you were actually crying about this. Aizawa wants to die when his dick twitches at the sight of a lone tear tracking down the pretty apple of your cheek. You do things to him, things that no one else is able to do and the worst part is you don't even have to try.

"I didn't say I didn't want you." He says cautiously, thumb wiping the tears away as you turn to him with that fucking pout that never fails to work on him.

You lean into the warmth of his hand, your own fingers coming to wrap tight around his wrist to keep him there.

"But.. you keep saying no." You pout and he wants to kiss it off your face.

"No. I'm saying you're drunk and I'm not gonna take advantage of my best friend because she's drunk. That's not me." His voice is stern. Resolute. But then your mouth parts and the tip of your pretty pink tongue swipes over the tip of his thumb and he almost loses his shit right then and there.

"You're not taking advantage of me if I want it." You say so coyly and Aizawa snatches his hand back, points an accusing finger at your wicked smiling face.

"You can't want it if you're drunk, Angel. Stop fighting me on it. The answer is no." He's steady and authoritative on the outside but on the inside his heart is pounding, cock aching within its confines. All Aizawa can really think is "What the fuck is going on?" He'd never seen you act like this before.

"Okay." You sigh sadly, voice small. You seem to curl in on yourself as you sit next to him but then your head pops up and the hair on the back of his neck stands on end when you press him with the most innocent look. If he didn't know you, he might have fallen for it, but he does know you. Knows that you're a manipulative little shit when you wanted to be, especially when it's to get him to do something he doesn't wanna do.

"What about.." You start and he's about to cut you off before you can even say whatever ridiculous shit you've managed to think of in the messy state you're in, but he's not quick enough. "Just one little kiss, please Shota?"

"No, absolutely not." But his stomach does this stupid little flip just at the thought and he can't not look down at your lips. You catch him, eyes glinting as you scoot a little closer. You may be a Pro-Hero but you are a fucking evil women. Sinful in a way that Aizawa isn't sure he can stay away from, no matter his moral compass.

"Just one itty bitty kiss and I'll go to bed like a good girl, I promise, Sho." You look so good saying it, and sound even better. But Shota Aizawa is not a fool and Shota Aizawa has known you far too long to let something so hormonal ruin one of his most treasured friendships, even if he did want you so badly it was tearing him up inside.

You shuffle closer, right hand coming down softly on his thigh and his whole body freezes. His eyes slant as he looks over to you.

"I said-"

"You won't be doing anything wrong, Shota. I know you'd never take advantage of me." You lean in, ghost you breath across his neck and Aizawa seriously can't fucking breathe. "You're the best friend a girl could ask for, Sho, I know you'd never hurt me "

Your voice is honey dipped venom and Aizawa's chest seizes when your thumb starts stroking a soft line up and down his thigh.

No, no, no, no, no. Fuccckk.

Your lips look so soft, bitten and shiny with your spit and so close. He imagines you taste like whiskey and cherries and the spearmint chapstick you made him put in his pocket so you didn't lose it.

"I…I.."

"I promise I'll be so good, just for you."

"Only one." He says and….wait what the fuck did he say? His brain has betrayed him, or maybe it was his dick, doesn't matter when there isn't anytime to process what the fuck he's just agreed to.

You're pressing your lips to his as his mind flounders, your nails digging into the meat of his thigh as you taste him for the first time after all these years.

You moan so loud and lewdly, it ricochets around his living room, and his head, and his heart. The sound sends a shiver down both of your spines. You taste just like he thought you would, plush lips pushed against his own. The kiss wasn't anything special but because it was you it was the hottest kiss Aizawa has ever had.

Only one. Only one. Only one.

No, he can't, he has to stop this. You taste too sweet, the little moans and whines escaping your throat are doing too much for him. He wants to hear more. Needs to hear more; but not like this. Not when you're drunk. He'd be a horrible friend, a horrible person, if he let this continue. So he pulls away, leaning back, eyes fluttering open, mouth beginning to speak.

He can't get a single fucking thing out when your pushing back towards him, your hands grabbing his face to hold him still. It's him that moans this time, a shocked gaspy moan that you swallow without a second thought. You toss your leg over his lap, grind yourself down against the hard line of his cock beneath his pants.

This kiss was miles away from the other. Teeth biting against his bottom lip, your tongue licking into his mouth, your hands ruining the bun he had his hair in as you yank the black tie out. And your hips, they won't stop grinding against him, it's so hot but so wrong and that stomach bubbling shame makes its appearance again. He braces his hands on your hips trying, in vain, to stall you but you only work faster. Rutting and whining and whispering his name.

Oh fuck, oh fuck.

He separates your mouths, bites at his lip when you settle for licking a fat stripe up his neck, sucking just below his ear.

"We can't, we gotta stop." He doesn't know how he manages to get the words out and somehow he's unsure if they even came from him. He's never sounded like this before. What the hell are you doing to him?

You pin his hands against the back of the couch, something that felt so strange considering he could have you wrapped up in his scarf in barely a second. Except, he doesn't have the scarf at this moment and you've driven his willpower straight into the mud.

"I'm so sorry, Shota." You whisper into his ear, licking at his ear lobe. "I'm sorry, I just need you so bad."

In that second, with your mouth and hips dizzying his brain, he finally realizes something.

He wasn't taking advantage of you, you were taking advantage of him.

The realization hits him so hard he gasps; or maybe that was because you picked that moment to swivel your hips just so that he could feel the way your lips parted under your lace panties and slotted over him. Even through the layers he could feel that wet hot heat.

"Gotta stop." Was he even trying? "Angel, we have to stop. We g-gotta go to sleep before this gets out of hand." He tries once again to push you away but you only shake your head and clinge tighter, fingers lost in his hair as you chase the release that's been slowly building in your stomach.

"No." You grit out between this little gasp that has his hands clenching in the skirt of your dress. He doesn't move them, they just sit there gripping the fabric as he thinks about how much of a pathetic weak man he is for letting you trick him like this. "Don't wanna sleep, want you to fill me up. Wanna feel you deep inside me, Shota." You punctate his name with a high pitched whine and that's it, that's all it takes.

That wavering thread, his moral compass? Gone just from the way you say his name.

He lunges at you, wraps his hand around the column of your throat and for the first time since you jumped him your hips finally still.

"You are such a fucking brat." Aizawa growls, squeezing your throat just tight enough to make your head fuzzy. You wanted to play dirty? Fine. He could be dirty too.

He reaches his hand behind you to blindly drag the zipper on the back of your dress down, snatching the front off your shoulders and down your arms. He pulls it down until your bare chest is exposed to him, nipples pebbled in the cool air of his apartment, let's the dress settle around you waist before he's balling his fist in the material and using it to drag your hips against his.

"Fuckk." He groans, letting his head fall back against the couch. You whimper as you watch him use you now, all that confidence and control gone as you tremble with every grind and rut. He's pushing his hips up into you now, no longer holding back, and the feeling is mind-blowing.

"Shota.." You begin to whisper but he's quickly silencing you with his lips, hungry and searching, as they attack your own.

"Fucking evil women." He smacks the supple skin of your ass, hard. So hard it has you falling into his chest, burying your nose into his neck. Aizawa grabs the back of your neck with his big hand, presses hard enough that you know that's your place now. You were no longer running the show.

"Drunk off your fucking ass," he bites out before actually biting into the skin of you shoulder. You whine pathetically, suddenly embarrassed of the sound of your wet soppy cunt humping against his nice trousers. "Can't take no for a fucking answer. Thought you were gonna be a good girl, Angel? What happened to that?"

You can't speak, your body quivering as you orgasm approaches, a hot white heat that tingles from your head to your toes. You manage to grit out a weak "I'm sorry, Sho.", but it's just about as pathetic as you feel right now.

"So fuckin' impatient. Why couldn't you have waited till tomorrow?" He grits out, his head spinning. He wouldn't fuck you tonight, that's too far. He knows despite this little performance you've put on that you are in fact still inebriated and he'd never forgive himself if he did something that sober you wouldn't have wanted. But this? If you want to get off so badly, he'll make it happen.

Because you should know by now- Shota Aizawa would do anything for you.

"Please." You whimper out even though you're not really sure what you're asking for. But that doesn't matter, because Aizawa knows.

He slips his hand down between the two of you, thumb finding your clit pressed roughly against the wet lace of your panties. He rubs tight, teasing circles over your sensitive nub, kissing and sucking at the soft skin of your chest as he peers up at your pleasure stricken face. You look so beautiful like this, it's addicting, something he's dreamed about for years. To finally experience it though? It was unlike anything he'd imagined, especially when your eyes clamp shut, nails digging into his shoulder as you cum- hard.

"Fuck, Shota!" You gasp around a steady chant of yes yes yes's. "I love you, oh my god, I love you so much, Sho."

You collapse into his chest, body trembling and jerking every now and then from the small aftershocks that rush through you. He rubs your back as you catch your breath, his lips pressing the sweetest most adoring kisses to your forehead.

"I mean it." You say, breathing heavily through your nose and Shota hums in response as he looks down at where you're cradled to his chest.

"Mean what?" He asks and his breath is ragged, rough sounding. You huff a bit as you adjust your weight in his lap.

"I'm not that drunk…and that you're pretty…and that..I love you." Your voice is so shy now, so unsure, such a stark comparison from the girl that jumped him only fifteen minutes ago.

Aizawa feels the heat that rushes to his cheeks, the heavy thud of his heart. He loves you more than you can ever know and hearing you finally say it back, especially while you were grinding against him, was enough to make him cum in his pants.

Which he did. Like a fucking high school kid. It was honestly kinda ridiculous the way you molded him however you wanted to, how he let you do it. He couldn't imagine letting anyone see him the way he allows you to. Only you.

Always you.

"Can we go to sleep now, Angel?" He asks into your temple and you answer with a yawn and a nod, sleepy eyes fluttering shut.

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