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#are the piercing ones from my teenage years
hella1975 · 10 months
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assigning a character the highest honour like *adds go home by julien baker to their playlist*
#and by honour i mean pointing at them like TRAUMATISED! TRAUMATISED! TRAUMATISED!#like yeah relating to this song is a red flag actually. yeah it's one of the most personal songs in the world to me#and i actively am not allowed to listen to it some days bc it makes me significantly worse#even if im in a GOOD mood because of the layers upon layers of emotions ive associated with it#yeah i literally wont even blorbo post to this song even if it's accurate to a character because it's so personal#so they have to be REALLY FUCKING SPECIAL AND FUCKED IN THE HEAD to get this honour. enter touya#i made him a playlist im going crazy like yeah actually of course i was always gonna be weird about him#like he's got fire themes. he's got body horror. he just wanted to be good. he's ethel cain coded. he's georgia coded#he's got mommy AND daddy AND sibling issues. he's the only other character ive let even come close to mary on a cross#he's a waiting room girlie. he's an archer girlie. im tearing my hair the fuck out of my scalp#why does the first character ive latched onto this hard since CHUUYA have to be from mha of all things#like that's embarassing for me im embarassed to be here. and yet#touya todoroki#the thing that makes me sick about touya is yes the abuse he went through via his quirk and his dad etc etc#but also bc sekota peak happened when he was 13 right? and he's 24 now? that's 11 years unaccounted for#like ik it's confirmed his burns put him in a coma for 3 years and all for one and the dr guy just stapled his stubborn self together#which is something else i will YELL MY HEAD OFF ABOUT WHAT THE FUCKKKKK HE WAS A CHILD STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT#but im pretty sure it's confirmed that after 3 years he goes off again on his own? which still leaves him as a teenager?#like he straight up burns himself alive at 13 wakes up at 16 and reappears at 24 with dyed hair and piercings and a bad attitude#and im not supposed to wonder? or get upset? like i absolutely am leaning into the 'he was on the streets' angle bc i hate myself#and that's devastating and also what alternative is there logically like he has NOTHING#no home no money no name that he can feasibly use not even an appearance that will warrant anything but more cruelty#so youve got this child on the streets with injuries that absolutely cause insane amounts of pain daily he's literally STAPLED together#and he's completely alone and the only thing getting him through is this growing hatred and rage#like id set all my plans around killing the guy that put me there too actually just to fucking get me out of bed in the morning#I CANNOT STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM. WHERE WAS HE FOR THE PAST DECADE. HORIKOSHI PLEASE#I WANNA GO HOME IM SICK THERES MORE WHISKEY THAN BLOOD IN MY VEINS MORE TAR THAN AIR IN MY LUNGS#PIERCE MY SKIN NEEDLES TO WORN OUT RAGS THE FOLDS IN MY ARMS THE SICKENING BLACK AND I HAVENT BEEN TAKING MY MEDS#I KNOW MY BODY IS JUST DIRTY CLOTHES IM TIRED OF WASHING MY HANDS GOD I WANT TO GO HOME
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deadsetobsessions · 3 months
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Danny’s Wayne adoption bait. The guy that owns the bodega knows it. Everyone and their mothers knows it. Danny, on the other hand, had no clue. To be fair, he had just crash landed in this dimension a week ago and his back was still sore from the weird design the car had.
(It’s only three weeks of homelessness later does Danny realize that he crash landed on the Batmobile. Whoops. Oh well. He’ll blame it on Clockwork if the vigilante asks after repair costs.)
(Bruce, on the other hand, is scouring the streets for this kid the car cams caught- oddly static filled footage- because his mind jumped to the worst case scenarios: a suicidal meta or a meta being threatened or a meta in a trafficking scheme or even worse all three at once and Bruce just can’t because there is a child in danger, he doesn’t have time to sleep.)
Danny rubbed at his back, eyes going watery at the memory. Sure, his wounds have healed over by now but the- heh- phantom pain is no joke. He shuddered, huddling closer to his threadbare hoodie. His only saving grace from getting jumped while walking the streets of Gotham at night is his invisibility and intangibility. Also, he’s floating, so “walking” doesn’t apply to him.
He’s gotta check on the kid he saved yesterday from a mugging, so Danny hurried along to the depilated apartment complex the kid was squatting in. Turning visible and tangible as he turns the corner, Danny glanced around for Amy.
“Danny!”
“Hey, kiddo. Doing alright?”
“Yeah! Come meet my gang!”
Danny felt his eyebrows rise to form Jazz’s exasperated look. Ouch. Waving the pain of losing Jazz away, Danny smiled at the excited girl.
“A gang? I wasn’t aware I was being brought to your almighty group.”
“Yeah! Uh, you actually helped a bunch of us so…”
Danny thought back to all those times he punted crooks away from robbing kids and shrugged. Yeah, what Amy said was likely.
“Kay, kiddo.”
She scowled, and Danny didn’t have the heart to tell her it looked more like a pout.
“You’re just a teenager.”
“Well, you’re a just a kid.”
Danny cackled as she chased him down the street, trying to kick his shins.
Life is good, even if he’s homeless and hungry.
——
“Jason.”
“Old man.” Jason mocks back, pausing his tasks. He waits as Bruce struggles to put his thoughts and feelings into words.
“There’s… a meta.”
“In Gotham?” Jason tilts back, hands halfway to his guns as a silent offer. Bruce shakes his head.
“A child. In Crime Alley.”
“In my turf?” Jason’s disquieting demeanor quickly swapped to a protective one.
“Trafficking, I think. Male, black hair…”
“Shit. Get Dickwing back here, he’s good with traumatized kids. I’ll go look for him.” Jason’s already moving, mind filtering through the kids he knows might have information to offer.
Bruce nods, shoulders relaxing. Jason smacks down the lump in his throat at the subtle sing of trust. “I’ll get Oracle and Red Robin on it.”
Jason morphs from Jay to Red Hood in one smooth step, helmet firmly placed on his head. He grunts in agreement, slinging his legs over his motorcycle. He roars off, mind half filled with tearing apart whatever traffickers dared to shit near his territory and the other half filled with worry for this possible kid.
——
Danny, as the Bats become aware of his existence, hands Amy and her kiddie gang a bag of fancy beef jerky.
“Try these with peanut butter, it’s kind of good.”
Amy stares at him, the judgement of an eight year old more piercing than anything he’s ever experienced.
“You’re fucking weird-”
“Language!” He squawks.
“-but sure, whatever you say, boss.”
“Boss?!”
The kids ignores his alarmed face.
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c0llisiion · 2 months
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NEED TO KNOW — j.jk
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★Pairing: jeon jungkook + f!reader
★genre: smut
★: older!jk, dads bestfriend!jk , oral (giving and receiving ) , unprotected sex , reader has a crush on jk, bachelor!jk, big dick jk, size kink kinda, hair pulling, gagging, slapping, pervert jk , dry humping , anal play , degradation, name calling, nicknames - lmk if i missed any!
★W/C: 4,395
A/N: remember that time I mentioned a jk fic that i was writing? This is that fic. Literally put this on hold for 2 months and finished writing it last night 😭 anyways enjoy!!
☆⋆。𖦹°‧★ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆。𖦹°‧★
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“But i dont wannnnaaaaa goooooo!..” you whined as you declined your dad’s offer to go to his big company party. “Sweetheart this is a huge deal for me …” your dad countered. “… more over, mr.jeon is going to be there ..!” Your ears perked up at the mention of Mr. Jeon. The tall, tatted bachelor with his piercings and built body, who has been your dad’s best friend since his college days.
Since you were a teenager, you have had the biggest crush on him. He was perfect in every way. He was older. More wiser. Handsome. Just your type. The initial infatuation was small, but as you grew into your adult years, it grew stronger.
You were starting to dream about him. Not even the usual kind. Wet dreams.
He grew older like fine wine. Body covered in beautiful art. Built like an actual Greek god.
Surprisingly, he was not yet married, even though he was well off in his late 40s. He used to say 'no woman has ever caught my attention' when someone mentioned him still being single at his age—from what you've heard.
Your dad and him, being business partners, frequently bring him to your home. Always hanging out at the bar or in your dad’s study. You capitalized on these small visits and began attempting to attract his attention. Whenever he came over, you started hanging out at the bar. Offering to make him special drinks. Talking about his interests , which you found out through intense stalking just to impress him. wearing revealing clothes, buying him his favorite food and snacks whenever you visit his office to pick up something for your father. You got very close to him. Your obsession with him became stronger because he seemed so nonchalant about your little tactics. The worst thing you have ever done was hire someone to break off one of his relationships. Only you were meant for him. No one else.
Hearing your father say that he would be there was another opportunity to impress him. You shot up. “WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY THIS BEFORE???” You say as you rummage into your closet for the perfect dress. Your father believed that your attraction to Jungkook was innocent and similar to that of a child. You had always said you hated the smell of alcohol, so he thought it was strange for you to start hanging out at the bar. Despite noticing many changes, he dismissed them as 'innocence', so he expected you to join him if he mentioned Jungkook. He left your room with a satisfied smile on his lips. You finally found the dress. A satin spaghetti strap dress in black, his favorite color, with a dangerously low open back. The dress was revealing when you put it on; the side of your boob was peeking out, but it hugged your curves perfectly. As the time got closer, you finished up spraying on your most expensive perfume, taking a final look at yourself before leaving.
The party was classy. A huge venue with what appeared to be millions of waiters with champagne. Upon entering the venue with your family, your eyes immediately searched for Jungkook. It wasn't long before you spotted him in the middle of a small group. He seemed to notice your family and hurried towards all of you without delay. As he got closer, your heart was beating fast. “Hey hey! My man!” He said taking your dad into a tight hug. “You could have come a bit more later!” He said sarcastically, taking a jab at your dad’s late-coming habit. “Don't blame me! This one took too long!” Your dad exclaimed, hugging you by your side. Jungkook’s eyes landed on you. He stared you down. Taking in each and every curve, his eyes eventually landed on your chest before he looked at your face and smiled. “So glad you came! You look gorgeous tonight.” He said, taking in your hand and kissing the back of your palm slowly, in a sensual way, while deeply staring into your eyes. He pulled away and rubbed the skin with his thumb before giving you a smirk. You felt your insides melt and your brain malfunction at his simple gesture. You were frozen in place and didn’t know what to do. You shyly backed away and looked down , trying to hide your wide smile with your bangs, which Jungkook took notes on.
Time flew by as you watched Jungkook speak in front of the huge crowd with charisma and confidence. One of his best traits. He always caught everyone’s attention with his choice of words and tone. It was embarrassing for you to admit that, but it turned you on. Your legs were crossed, rubbing your thighs together from time to time, and no one seemed to notice, except for Jungkook, of course. He eyed you every time you made a small movement.
All the speeches and boring talks concluded, which made you run out onto the balcony for some fresh air. You stared off into the distance, thinking about what Jungkook had done to you earlier. Was it platonic? Was he just being nice? Does he have feeli- “did all those old men bore you out?” Jungkook was behind you. His voice husky. His lip and eyebrow piercing, shining under the moonlight. You were caught off guard and turned around to see ‘your man', “mr.jeon! Ugh you scared me!” You said dramatically, placing a hand on your chest. He gets closer with a charming smile on his face and hands in his pockets. “My apologies. I didn't mean to scare you!” He let out a soft chuckle. “How is your night going?” He asked you. “Hm? Oh good i guess, it’s kinda boring, but i would do anything for my father..” He chuckled and gave you a side eye. “For your father? Really?” it seemed like he knew the real reason why you were here in the first place. “Wdym really? I love my dad!” You said in a playful, offended tone.  He chuckled once again. “Fine fine! I know how much you adore him.” You sighed softly and smiled.
“I like that dress on you. It suits you a lot.”  He said while eyeing you. You blushed at his compliment, looking down and fiddling with your acrylic nails. “Thank you..” you mumbled under your breath. You feel him getting closer to you. “Sorry? I didn’t hear you,  sweetheart.” His hands were on your hips, squeezing them softly. You froze in place. Heart beating faster. Your legs threatening to fall. His hands creeped towards your ass. Groping it softly, not wanting to seem too pushy. “Mr.jeon…-“ you let out a shaky whimper at his touch. “It’s jungkook for you, doll.” He said leaning in closer to your ears. He took a huge sniff of your neck and hair. “Thierry mugler alien eau de parfum? You have good taste.” He said while softly chuckling in your ears before pulling away. He lifted your chin so you can look at him. Your eyebrows were slightly furrowed as you stared into his intoxicating eyes. “What did you want to say earlier?” You gulped before speaking up. “Thank you… jungkook.” He smiled at you before placing a kiss on your forehead. His hands went under your ears, caressing the soft skin gently. Your eyes widened, and you just stood there. “I’ll see you around okay?” He said smiling before he left. You were standing put, like a statue, your limbs refusing to move. 
A few days went by, and you were still processing whatever happened with jungkook that night. His kiss. The way his hands caressed your body. His little nicknames. It was just too much to process. You didn’t see or hear much from jungkook since that day. There were small interactions, but he seemed to ignore you each time. You were starting to get worried. What happened? What did you do wrong? Did you fuck up? Does he hate you?. You never stopped overthinking.
One morning, you heard the familiar voice of Jungkook from the kitchen, laughing and giggling with your father. You quickly put on your clothes and dolled up, still hoping to impress him, before you went downstairs. “Ah! She’s finally awake! We were just talking about you!” Your father exclaimed. You observed jungkook as he sat on the kitchen island and ate what appeared to be lucky charms. His favorite cereal. He glanced at you briefly before turning away. You felt your heart shatter. After all that he did? Is this the way he treats you? . You walked past him and got yourself a glass of orange juice. “Did you sleepwell princess?” Your father inquired. Jungkook was still not looking at you. His gaze was fixed on the newspaper in front of him. “Yeah yeah i did.” You said putting on a fake smile. “Oh!” Your father exclaimed as he heard his phone ring. “Excuse me.” He said before rushing out of the kitchen.
You glared at jungkook and gulped down your orange juice before dropping the glass onto the table. Jungkook noticed your action, which made him put his newspaper aside and walk towards you. “What’s wrong?” He inquired, leaning onto the island. “Hmph!” You huffed, turning around. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Come onnn! Tell me.” He said while hugging your waist from the back. You let out a heavy sigh before turning back around. “What did I do wrong? Why do you keep doing this to me?” You asked. “Doing what?” “Are you seriously going to act like you don’t know?” You said folding your arms. Jungkook had a confused look on his face. “You are ignoring me damn it!” “Ohhhhh! About that! I just didn’t have anything to say.” He said shrugging. You rolled your eyes at him. “Admit it, Jungkook, you just want to play with my feelings. You don’t care about me. You never did.” You let it all out. It was weird for you to act like this, but you couldn’t help yourself. Jungkooks eyes darkened, and he stared at you. You gulp.  “You think I don’t care about you? Me? Not caring about you? You think i come to your house almost every other day for your father?” He said while pushing you down onto the island. He turned you around and hugged you close to his body; you could feel his clothed hard dick on your pussy. You shudder when he slowly grinds his hips into your behind. “Ya feel that doll? Thats how you got me everyday..” he said whispering into your ears. His free hand found your right tit before he gave it a squeeze. Tugging the thin white fabric of your crop top down to expose your hardened nipple. You hear him darkly chuckle in your ear before giving the sensitive bud a squeeze. His hips never seemed to stop as he continued dry-humping you. You felt yourself involuntarily lowering yourself on the island, pushing your ass back into him for more stimulation. He immediately pulls away, leaving you weak and clenching around absolutely nothing. You whined, turning around to face him with pleading eyes. “What?” He scoffed at how desperate you were. He got closer and fixed your shirt. He didn’t say anything and just rubbed your shoulders down before walking away. 
A while later, you were napping in your bedroom. It was not uncommon for you to take naps in between the day since you were basically unemployed and didn’t have much to do, and you also needed one after what happened with jungkook.
All the blinds were shut, leaving the room completely dark. It was silent; the only sound that was heard was the faint noise of the air conditioner. You were in deep sleep and didn’t notice or hear Jungkook entering your room. You felt the bed sink next to you before you felt a cold hand on your hip. His hands, kneading the soft flesh of your ass before it grazed around your desperate cunt. You whine when you feel his fingers touch and draw circles on your sensitive part. “Shh..” he shushed you before pressing onto your pussy. He chuckles at how quickly you got wet. Your mouth was agape, soft grunts escaping every second. He slowly pushed you onto your stomach, climbing on top of you before pulling your pink panties to the side.
It was dark, and he couldn’t see much, but he could feel how soaked you were. He spread your cheeks and lowered his mouth down onto your cunt, sucking on it. Your eyes shot open, heavy breathing as you turned around to see the man of your dreams eat you out from behind. “Ju-jungkook..?” He shut you up by lapping his tongue over your dripping cunt. You let out a loud moan, your head falling sideways, already drooling even though he barely started. He lifted your ass up using his strong hands, making you arch your back. He dropped his head lower and started sucking on your clit, his big nose pressing into your soaking pussy. You grabbed a handful of his hair from behind and pushed him closer. He hummed into your pussy, making you gasp for air. Loud slurping and squelching sounds, along with his groans and your moans, echoed throughout the room. You were seeing stars. The way his mouth ate you out and the feeling of his cold lip ring on your pussy were beyond comprehensible. Your heart started beating faster as you felt your body warm up, and a knot formed in your abdomen. Jungkook took notes on your body language and pulled away. You cried out when you lost contact.
He leaned in and switched on one of your bed lights, finally giving the room some light. He observed your body. Your ass was still up, your pussy glistening with his spit and your arousal. It was clenching and unclenching around nothing. He let out a scoff before turning you around. Your face already looked fucked out. Tears painted your cheeks, and drool was all over your mouth. He hovered over you, placing a hand on the headboard. He used his other hand to wipe your face clean. “We have gotten ourselves a good hour; better make this quick, alright?” You nodded softly and wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him into a soft and tender kiss. He kissed you back and hugged you closely to his body. His hands went under your tee, squeezing your tit. You whined into the kiss. “You are so sensitive, sweetheart…” he mumbled. You break off the kiss and cup his face. “Jungkook… want more..” He tilted his head to the side and stared at you. He put on a smirk before standing at the foot of the bed.
He took off his pullover, revealing his tatted arms and toned abs and pecs. The soft bed light that was illuminating the room was able to capture every detail of his body. You stare. Hand in between your legs, squeezed shut. You bit your lip softly before your eyes met his. He gestured for you to come closer, which made you crawl to him. Your face was now right in front of his hard dick. You could see the bulge growing. His hand went behind your head, grasping your hair gently. You looked up at him with your doe eyes, which instantly made him fold, but he kept his composure. He gave you a nod, pushing your head closer to his crotch. Your nose nudged the bulge before your greedy fingers hastily unzipped his pants. Your eyes widened when his cock sprung out and hit his stomach. He was big. Girthy. The tip was red, and you could see his precum peaking from the slit. Without wasting time, you took a stripe from the base of his dick until the tip before you sucked on it. He hissed at the feeling of your plump lips sucking on his sensitive tip. He was starting to get impatient and pushed your head down, filling your mouth even though he was only half way in. You looked at him with teary eyes as you choked around his girth. He almost lost it when you looked up at him with those eyes of yours. His other hand caressed your cheek, pushing himself further down your throat. You could feel him. Your jaws were hurting, and you grabbed onto his hips for stability. Your throat spasmed around his cock. He noticed how you were kinda struggling. “Better make me feel good, okay? I want that throat to show me what it got.” With that, he started thrusting into your mouth. You started choking and gagging around his length, which just turned him on even more.
He yanked your head off of his cock. A string of pre cum and saliva connected your lips and his cock head. You looked up at him and whined, wanting his dick to stuff your mouth again. He bent down to your level before licking your chin clean, swallowing the mixture before speaking to you. “On your knees and hands, baby girl." You obliged immediately, taking off your flimsy tee before throwing your ass in the air and arching your back for him. You felt the bed dip behind you, and jungkooks long dick landed on your ass, slowly grinding through the sheer panties.His wet cock making it translucent. You whimpered, already feeling yourself getting hotter. “You are such a dumbslut.” He lowly chuckled.
“You think it wasn’t obvious?” He removed your skirt and ripped your panties. You gasp at his sudden action. “All these skimpy skirts and tops.. and just when I'm around? Were you that desperate, princess ?” He said while pushing his cockhead into your sopping hole.
You let out a loud moan; his tip was enough to stretch you out. “Not gonna lie… i was very flattered” gripping your ass cheeks as he slowly pushed further, letting you adjust to his size. He continued. “I only kept my cool because you were my best friend's daughter, but—holy shit-“ he gets cut off as you clench around his length, tears already dripping down your face. Your mind fogging up. You were constantly letting out soft moans and whimpers as he slowly bottomed down into you. “Woah there-“ he chuckled. “im not even half way in sweetheart” he said while grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling your head back. You looked at him with teary eyes. Lips quivering. He smirked before kissing your cheek. He let go of your hair and pushed your head down into the pillow using his hand. The other hand was on your hip as he finally pushed all the way in. “Since you are begging for it— ” you let out a loud scream as he filled you to the brim.
Although it was painful, the pleasure made you forget about the pain. you felt warm spit fall on your pussy as he starts moving. “Gon’ fuck you silly, alright? Isn’t that what you wanted? Getting dicked down by your father's friend? What a whore…” You nodded incoherently. A loud cry left your lips as his hips thrust into you harshly. His pace was slow, but the way he thrust in was so... Your body was moving forward with every thrust. Sounds of wet skin slapping echoed through your room. You were not able to focus on anything. His pace increased, and so did the harshness of his thrust. You clenched around him, making him fall forward. He caged your tiny body under his larger one. “Fuck babygirl.. you are gonna rip my dick off..” he chuckled. “Jungk-kook… feels too good…” you managed to blabber out as he fucked into you like a madman. “Yeah? you like that? You liked getting fucked by older men, dont you sweatheart?” You whined as his large hands gripped your hair.
This was wrong. Very wrong. This man has seen you grow up. He has been there since you were a baby.
“Let me hear those pretty sounds…” he said while landing a tight slap on your ass, reddening the area almost immediately. You gasped and whimpered, letting out a loud pornographic moan as Jungkook hit a specific spot. His other hand found your swollen clit and started drawing rough circles on it. Pinching and tugging the abused nub. Your legs trembled, and your moans got louder. “F-fuck! Jungkook…don’t s-stop! Feels so good!” You babbled. Jungkooks eyes were focused on your pussy. The way you took in his length. Your milky white cream coated his entire length, collecting at the base of his cock.
He stopped thrusting in you for a moment. You whined as you felt him suddenly stop. Jungkook smirked before leaning over and whispering in your ears. “Fuck yourself on me, doll.” You cried in defeat. Jungkook placed his hands on his hips, waiting for you to start moving. You gulped before slowly rocking your body forward and backward. You could feel his every inch penetrating the insides of your gummy walls. His large tip hitting your cervix over and over again. “Thats all you can do? Wow.. so pathetic..” he scoffed. You shook your head furiously and started going faster. Jungkook let out a satisfied groan as he watched your ass ripple. “Play with that little clit of yours.” He commanded. You reached down in between your legs, finding the sensitive nub almost immediately. You slowly rubbed your clit, sending shivers down your spine. You moaned out as the stimulation of your pussy and clit was getting overwhelming. You fucked yourself faster on his cock. Mouth in a soft ‘o’ shape and eyes crossed as his cock hit your gspot every time you moved in and out. Jungkook was in a different world. His eyebrows were furrowed, and sweat dripped down his neck. He was close to cumming just by seeing you fuck yourself on him.
His hands spread your ass cheeks, before a glob of spit landed on your asshole. You shuddered and panicked, stopping for a moment. “J-jungko-?” “Just focus on fucking yourself; everything is going to be alright…” he reassured you. You nodded before going back. His long fingers toyed with your rim. You grunt when you feel his fingers prod into your asshole. “Shh- shh.. youre safe .. jus’ wan’ try something new..” You gulped and shut your eyes tightly as his fingers ventured further into your asshole. He shoved three of his fingers into you, making you moan out loud. “Fuckkkkk- so tight…” he whispered. You melt and crumble when you feel his fingers move inside of you. You buried your head in your pillow, muffling out any unholy noise.
Your pussy and asshole clenched around his fingers and dick, making him groan. “So damn sensitive… has any guy fucked you, this good princess?” You shake your head. “N-no sir …” Jungkook shot up at the name. His fingers increasing in speed. You let out choked-out moans and cries as his fingers curled inside your asshole. “Say that again, will ya?” His other hand found your hips and started stretching your pussy out again. “Please.. f-fuck me harder… sir.” That was all it took to make Jungkook go feral. His cock left your pussy and was immediately shoved inside your sensitive ass. Your eyes shot out, and you couldn’t make any noise as you looked back at jungkook with tears rolling down your cheeks. He pinned your wrists behind your back before moving in and out. He struggled, initially. curse him for not stretching you out more, but his cream-coated cock provided enough lube for him to start pounding into you smoothly. “Shits so fucking tight- gah-“ your lips quivered and legs trembled as Jungkook fucked into you with great strength.
You screamed out, finally getting your voice back after he fully plunged his cock into you. Your cunt was leaking arousal, dripping down your thighs. Jungkook didnt seem to stop. His heavy, cum-filled balls were slapping against your pussy. “Jungkoook…- its too- too much!” You cried out. “Take it. You are a big girl. Take it like a big girl. I know you fucking can. Look at your little ass sucking me in. So good. So fucking good.” He pulled your body back and pounded into you. Your face was a mess. You cried and moaned like a bitch in heat every time he filled you to the brim. You felt your orgasm approaching as the feeling of the familiar knot in your stomach began growing. “Jung-jungkook- gon’ cum…” you whined. “Go on princess… be a good girl and cum all over me..” you nodded weakly, focusing on reaching your high. Jungkook flipped you over, laying you down on your back. His hands pushed your legs up against your chest. You were in ecstasy as the new position had you seeing stars. You observed Jungkook's sweaty body and fucked-out face.
A slap was landed on your glistening, sopping pussy before two fingers were shoved inside them. His thumb stimulating your clit. “Ngh- oh fuck- jungkook m’ so close…!” Your eyebrows were knit together, and sweat dripped down your face. The overstimulation getting too intense. Both his hips and hands increased their pace, determined to help you reach your high. You saw white as Jungkook pressed down on your sensitive bud. Clear liquid gushed out of your pussy and landed on his abdomen. You screamed as he continued fucking you through your orgasm. “Yeah.. just like that.. so dirty.. you are such a dirty little girl..” Jungkook's movements got sloppier. Your orgasm turned him on by a mile, and he was close to cumming himself. You twitched under him, still not over your intense orgasm, not noticing that he had slipped out of you and was furiously jerking himself off. His head was thrown back, and soft moans left his mouth. His breath hitched when a load of his milky white cum shot out all over your body. Coating your stomach and your boobs. You moan as you feel his hot cum land on your body, taking the mixture in your shaky fingers and licking it off while staring into his eyes. Jungkook smirked at you with half-lidded eyes.
“My dirty little girl."
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A/N: HEHE THANK YEWWW 4 READINGGG! how was it tho? This would have been a stepcest fic but i changed my mind in the middle 🙁💔 im currently writing fics from my inbox! You can send in your rqs <3
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moyazaika · 1 year
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yandere! rockstar x manager! reader
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“on another note, people have noticed your recent music has been quite romantic,” the host states, keen eyes pinned to her guest with an easy smile. “so who’s the lucky person, feroze? your fans are dying to know.”
with soft strands of crimson hair that fall over his flawless brown skin, sharp, stygian eyes lined with kohl, and the sleeves of his black shirt rolled back to reveal prominent muscles — feroze looks gorgeous. he has to, for his first interview of the new year.
“oh, i’m sure they are.” he drawls, crosses one leg over the other. “but that’s a secret i won’t ever tell, i’m not fond of sharing.” the audience, mainly consisting of teenagers who have his posters up on their walls, swoon, and the host laughs politely. “besides, they know who they are, and that’s enough for me.”
but feroze is stupid, you think, if he believes he can evade the host’s intrusive questions. this is her show, and despite his status as a celebrity rockstar — he’s here as her guest.
“not ready to go public just yet?” she asks, her words met with a shrug from the man seated across from her, but the woman persistently presses on, “alright, no names, but can you at least tell us more about this secret sweetheart of yours?”
“they’re the love of my life.” he states simply, expression apathetic. feroze rhythmically drums his fingers on his legs, “i could write a million songs in their name, and none would be able to properly capture the way i feel when i’m around them.”
“it’s something bigger than words can convey.” feroze’s words fall from his lips like a confession. and you notice that every time he talks, his tongue piercing glints under the harsh studio lighting. “in my language, we call it ishq.”
the host is about to say something, presumably ask the musician what he means, but he doesn’t give her a chance to, and you wince. he’ll get backlash for speaking over her, despite all the times you’ve reprimanded him for his impatience, especially in the predatory eyes of the media.
because popularity isn’t enough. no matter how many of his concerts sell out within seconds, or how many weeks his music tops worldwide charts — no limelight hides his brown skin, or his desi heritage. there are always those who lurk, waiting for him to mess up, and ready to tear him apart when he does.
“it’s a connection, a level of adoration that is beyond rationality,” he clarifies, “ishq can be beyond beautiful, or it can be utterly destructive. but either way, it leaves you an absolute mess.” feroze chuckles, the sound low and wry. but it is nothing compared to the approving applause from the audience, who watch the lovestruck star in awe.
“wow, that’s just lovely!” the host gushes, and, you note from your place in the audience of onlookers, glows with the pride of getting feroze to talk for so long, speak more than some simple words.
it’s undeniable that he’s a star, he belongs on his stage, commands attention when he sings with his husky voice and lays his heart bare in the lyrics. but when it comes to interviews or fan meets, it’s almost impossible to get a word out of him.
it’s mildly amusing to watch, the way everybody will try so hard to pry a few short sentences from his lips, when all he ever does around you, much to your vexation, is speak.
“i’ve built a name for myself, from the ground up, for over twenty three years,” his black eyes scan the applauding audience, and find yours, lingering there when he speaks. “but if they asked me to — i’d leave it all behind. the fame, this life.” he says, “the music would stay, songs of adoration and sweet nothings, but only for them and nobody else.”
“surely you don’t mean that?” the host asks the man seated across from her, “your fans would be absolutely devastated, to say the very least.” she winks at the audience, who agree wholeheartedly with her words. “and what would music even look like without the feroze khan?”
“if you want me to be honest with you, i simply don’t care.” he shrugs nonchalantly, and all of a sudden, the studio which was previously buzzing with excitement, falls entirely silent. “i don’t care if music falls apart, or if the world hates me for it.”
the host’s grin falters, and your heart skips a beat. he tilts his head to the side. “all of this?” he makes a vague gesture at the studio, the bright lights and dozens of eyes trained on him at this very moment. “it means nothing to me, next to them.”
“i guess you really love them, don’t you?” the host attempts to lighten the mood, but her smile strains the corners of her lips, and her eyes anxiously dart to the camera, ready to wrap up this conversation and move on.
“love is too simple of a word,” feroze muses, twirling one of his many rings between his lithe fingers, looping it around and over them with charming ease. “this is something messy and rough around the edges, but it’s something i want to experience forever, all the same.”
again, his eyes meet yours in the crowd, a slow smile spreading on his lips. meri jaan. he mouths, and you flush, heat creeping up to your cheeks out of embarrassment or irritation, you don’t know. but the words linger in your mind all the same, my love.
but as soon as feroze’s smile blossoms, it withers, and his expression smooths over, back to a bored gaze and his relaxed demeanour. you wearily run a hand over your face, irritation seeping under your skin at the rockstar’s insistence in actively ruining his career.
there’s tension in the studio, a palpable uneasiness draped over the silent audience — but if feroze notices, he doesn’t care enough to show it. the musician is the epitome of ease: arms lazily draped over the armchair he casually lounges in, legs crossed comfortably as he watches the host expectantly, ready for her next question, but not quite interested.
and you decide you’ve seen enough. so with your jaw set, and hands curled into hard fists, you turn on your heels and leave the studio without so much as a backwards glance.
you don’t need to look at him to know that feroze watches you walk out. but what you don’t know is that after you leave, he refuses to say a single word for the remainder of the interview.
by the time you and feroze get back to his place, your anger has twisted itself into a shimmering rage, and you make sure that he knows it too.
“you’re going to ruin your life and destroy your career!” you exclaim, hating the way he regards you with such nonchalance, even now. “i have tried, time and time again, to be patient with you — but telling your fans on live television that you don’t care about any of them??”
“not my fault if they can’t handle the truth” he shrugs, “let them all rot, they’re nothing to me. the only person i need is you.”
“feroze motherfucking khan.” you curse, “if someone hears you say that — you’re over!!” you seethe, grit your teeth and bite your tongue before you can say anything you’ll regret.
coming back from this interview was going to be difficult, but people had come back from worse, right? besides, you could always resort to bribery and censorship, if push comes to shove. but hopefully, if you can do your job right, it shouldn’t.
“why do you insist on making my job so difficult?” you mutter, lean against the wall and close your eyes in resignation, admitting defeat to the stubborn celebrity.
it’s the low sound of feroze’s voice that brings you back to the present.
“i’m making your job difficult, am i?” feroze laughs, the sound dripping with disbelief, you open your eyes, find that his darken. “you make mine impossible.” he narrows his black eyes, “when i see you at my concerts, i forget the lyrics to songs i’ve sang a million times, my hands start shaking, and i can barely hear the music over the sound of my heart.”
you shake your head, don’t trust yourself not to say something stupid, but something twists in your chest.
“even now,” with every word, he takes a step closer to you, until you’re pressed against the wall and he’s looming over you, hands reaching out for yours. “i can barely think straight. here,” he guides your palms against his chest, fingers gentle, even when he feels like being anything but. “can you feel it, what you do to me?”
“you drive me absolutely insane, with your very existence. every song of mine is about you, and whenever i perform knowing you’re watching me, i can barely breathe.” you look up at the musician, your anger giving way to something slightly softer, as you feel the erratic rhythm of his beating heart under your hands. “i love you.”
“don’t.” you manage, “don’t throw away your entire life for me. you’ve got the world at your fingertips, everybody either wants you, or wants to be you.” and it’s true, both of you know it. “you’re a superstar, feroze. music hasn’t seen something like you since cobain, don’t throw it all away for me — i’m not worth what you have.”
“not worth it?” feroze echoes, shakes his head as he wraps his fingers around your wrists, “then tell me why i go to sleep and wake up with my mind and body thinking about you. tell me why i want to devour you, one kiss at a time, and memorise the dips and curves of your body underneath mine.”
his voice is barely above a whisper as he lays his desires bare before you. “go on, use your words and tell me.”
but you have no answer for him, couldn’t think of one even if you tried, because the only thing on your mind is how close he is, how his lips ghost the shell of your ear and graze your own with every word.
“that’s what i thought,” feroze says, he considers something for a moment before continuing, “and forget my being a superstar, that’s not what i want, and it never has been since i met you.”
the limited space between you is heavy with desire and promises of debauchery, and you want nothing more than to let yourself sink into it. so, even when you know this is unprofessional, know you could lose your job for this — you can’t help yourself.
your anger is washed away by something warmer, something that leaves you wanting for more. “then what do you want, feroze?”
“i thought you’d never ask, meri jaan.” feroze breathes against your jaw, curls a hand around your throat.
“how about you let me show you exactly what i want,” his other hand holds your wrists, bound by his fingers, over your head. the man pushes his knees between your thighs, and finally smiles. “be mine, just for tonight — say yes, and i’ll show you what ishq means.”
something inside him comes undone when you press your lips against his, burning with want.
he knows. he knows he’s a handful, your rockstar always saying the wrong thing and giving you headaches, leaving you with yet another mess to deal with.
throughout the night, he realises that even his best music has nothing on the mellifluous sounds of you whimpering his name, all breathless. your anger dissipated and replaced by raw need.
he swears he’ll make it up to you. he’ll treat you so well, that you’ll never want to leave. besides, it’s not like you could, even if you tried — he wouldn’t let you. what’s a rockstar without his manager?
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igotanidea · 3 months
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Family rules: Damian Wayne x reader
Christmas bingo day 23 : midnight kiss
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The first time she truly understood the meaning of the proverb heart over mind was on a school trip in September.
He was just standing by the wall, doing nothing except staring into space with those piercing green eyes.
Such pretty eyes
Such devilish, snake eyes.
Acting like he was who knows who.
Arrogant, cold, keeping his distant, rough, self-absorbed, not caring about anything or anyone.
Just like his father.
Damian Wayne.
***
Y/N had the misfortune of being born into a technological company family. Obviously she didn’t know it when she was a kid, but the word Wayne was inflected in her home on all occasions.
Wayne this, Wayne that...
 sort of spell or- more likely - a curse.
Damn it!
She was 12 when she gathered enough courage to ask her father what this was about. A mistake she only made once, cause even the mention of the Bruce Wayne and his famous, profitable company made her father see red.
That's how she found about the on-going competition between her father and Damian's one.
Obviously it was not like she was excluded from family rules and allowed to live in a bubble. Y/N was supposed to hate the entire Wayne family, the progenitor, his adopted kids and everyone who even came close to them. The only blood son included.
The only problem?
Said blood son was attending the same school, the same class as Y/N was. Which meant a lot of time spend together.
And you just command a teenager to do something and hope they'll listen. It's pretty much impossible, if not foolish belief.
***
In her defence - she tried.
She really tried to hate Damian.
But for five years, his name has been coming to her from every way on every occasion.
Wayne this, Wayne that.
Damn it!!
She could tear her hair out in utter desperation. How was she supposed to not think about him when all the world seemed to be dead set to remind her of his existence.
Of his stupid, unnecessary existence.
With his stupid, idiotic smile and his ridiculous handsome face and infuriating behaviour and the tendency to just be mean all the fucking time.
The internal fight between what she felt and how she acted made her clench her fist and grit her teeth every time Damian came into her view. The little bastard has been doing it on purpose just to see her flustered and enraged. It was like he was trying this best to show his superiority and just rub it into her face.
„L/N.”
„The hell you want Wayne?”
„Will you be attending this year’s New Year's Eve?”
„Will I what now?” she raised her gaze, unable to hide the confusion.
„want me to spell it out for you or something”?”
„Hm.” she muttered „I had no idea you knew how to do that Wayne.”
„I;m only telling you because I know you have problems with reading.”
„Clearly you have a problem with understanding simple things.”
„What I understand is that your father was left out when the invitations were being send. Are you finally going bankrupt”
„You little piece of-!” before she could stop herself her palm met with his cheek with a loud slap.
Shit.
He got exactly what he wanted. Provoked her and got the awaited reaction. She exposed herself, cause acting so dramatically only proved her contradictory, violent emotions he evoked in her.
„Nice one. Didn’t think you had it in you.” he wiped the little drop of blood she drew with her nails.
„Trust me I had it in me ever since you invaded the class.”
„I’ll let you make it even when you invade Wayne Manor for the party.”
„Though you said my family wasn’t invited?”
„It’s a charitable thing to open the door for the poor. I’ll see to it personally.”
„Such a generosity on your part, Mr. Wayne.” she rolled her eyes. „You can take your fake bounty and shove it up-”
„I can’t wait till you meet Todd. You two have so much in common.”
„Your older brother? Yeah, from what I heard you two have quite a rocky relationship. Maybe we’ll gang up on you.”
„Can’t wait.” Damian laughed dryly and with a mischievious glint in his eyes walked away not bothering to say another word.
***
„I;m not going.”
„You;re going.”
„I am so not going!”
„You don’t have a say in the matter!”
„Last year you said that new year’s party is not a place for kids!”
„You’re not a kid!”
„I’m 17! I;m a kid!”
„You ran away from home few months ago. You’re not a kid. You’re going. End of discussion.”
„If I’m not a kid then how come I can’t make a decision on this?” she smiled at her father with absolutely innocent eyes, pointing out all the holes in his logic.
Well-
He didn’t take her defiance in a good way.
Almost dragging her to the wayne manor, but dragging nevertheless.
***
Vomiting.
That’s how she felt entering the place,
Running away.
That’s how she felt walking up the steps and being thrown to the sharks when all the gazes landed on her and her father.
Hiding.
That’s how she felt when the gravity of being judged only based on her clothes and outlook sunk in.
Instead Y/N was forced to fake a smile, dance and do the rounds pretending to have fun.
All for the glory and good publicity of her father’s company.
Worst part?
He has been watching.
Like a predator in the darkness, waiting to strike when she was least suspecting it.
„Mr L/N.” Damian crept behind the girl and her father and she was sure he only did it on purpose to startle her. „Would you mind if I steal your daughter for a dance.
The tragicomic of the situation was truly poetic.
Her father went pale. Then red. His jaw got tense. Then loose. And then he smiled forcefully nodding his head, unable to say the dreaded yes. Apparently being torn between the devil (his daughter dancing with the son of his archenemy) and the deep blue sea (offending the host) was too much to handle.,
Too bad, Y/N had no chance to object or get away before Damian led her to the dancefloor.
„It’s not XVIth century Wayne, women can make their own decisions.” she hissed not really happy about his hands circling around her waist.
„Then run away if that’s what you want. I dare you.”
„I’m not going to make a scene here!”
„thought so.” he chuckled, capably leading her in the dance.
„what the hell is that supposed to mean!?”
„absolutely nothing.”
„I’ve known you for five years. There’s never nothing with you Damian.”
‘You used my name, Y/N.”
‘And you repeated my mistake.”
„Maybe it’s not a mistake?” he pulled her slightly closer, causing her to let out an involuntarily gasp. „I’m just saying-”
„I’m supposed to hate you.” she whispered making a turn and then a swirl
„So you don’t.” this was not a question but a statement, his hands trembling slightly. It was hard for him to keep the attitude while dealing with a whirlwind inside. He was 17 and liked a girl, having no idea how to behave to not make a fool out of himself, get embarrassed and lose in her eyes.
„don’t let it get into your head.” she whispered pressing herself closer to his body. They were dancing and it was only because of that.
„Me?” Damian smiled but it came unnoticed due to her head leaning on his shoulder „I think you’re the one who’s fantasising.”
„You sure you’re not hoping for a midnight kiss?” she mocked
„Are you?”
„no.”
„me neither.”
Bruce and f/n were carefully watching their kids.
Damian and Y/n couldn’t care less.
Family drama and conflicts seemed light years away at that moment.
 Future could be figured out later.
Part 2: moment of weakness
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jksprincess10 · 1 year
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Mr Miller’s birthday gift || Dbf ! Joel x reader
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Summary: You meet your dad’s best friend at the bar where you’re celebrating your birthday. 
CW: Age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 36). Joel knew her since she was a teenager. oral sex (f receiving), alcohol, p in v, unprotected sex, he talks you through it, praise kink, rough sex, domestic Joel, implied death of a loved one, this is 3k words (you can just skip to the porn, I won’t be mad). 
The bar was already vibrating with low music, the lights were warm and yellowish. It was a busy Saturday night, well as busy as it can be for a small-town lounge. The place was mostly occupied by older gentlemen, except for your group of girls.
It was your 22nd birthday and it was the less sketchy place to have your party. You didn’t love it, but your friends said you probably wouldn’t have to pay for any drinks that night, as the men would shower you with gifts, hoping to get lucky. Anyway, you were thankful to be with your best friends Samantha, Bianca and Allison.
You were probably on your third shot paid by a stranger. You were dancing close to your friends, even though it wasn’t really the bar where people would dance. The soft fabric of your black dress would shimmer elegantly under the lights.
“Holy shit. Is that Mr Miller and his brother?” asked Allison while looking at the door who had just opened to let the two handsome men enter. Your gaze followed hers. The men were… infamous in your neighborhood to be real eye candy. To make matters worse, Joel was your dad’s best friend. They went to school together and they really hit it off even though Mr Miller was a few years younger than him - your dad wasn’t really the mature kind anyway. They had lost each other for a while before reconnecting when you were a teenager.
“Yes. Fuckfuckfuck.” You muttered, before asking for a glass of water, hoping to get down from your slight buzz. You didn’t want him to see you drunk right as he got here.
As you were drinking the lukewarm water, your eyes met with his soft brown irises. You couldn’t do as if you didn’t see him. Especially since he was waving at you. You shot him a smile and your friends pushed you to go and talk to him.
“Hey hun’, didn’t think I’d see you this bar for old men.”
“Well, you know… it’s my birthday so… There are few places where you can party in this awful town.” You smiled awkwardly as you tucked some of your hair behind your ear covered in various piercings.
He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Shit, I totally forgot. I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you.” There was a way he could make it up to you, yes. You blushed slightly as you thought about it.
He would always bring you gifts for your birthday since you could remember. He was a caring man, really. You were totally crushing on him since, well forever. Even though it was really weird because he was so close to your dad, and he knew you since when you were a teen. But… you were an adult now, right? You could do what you want.
“N-No worries, Mr. Miller!” You looked awkwardly at his brother, who smiled at you. “Well, I’ll let you enjoy your evening. Hope Sarah is doing well.”
Sarah was his adorable tween daughter. You would babysit her when she was younger. Joel was a widow, and you didn’t know much about his past, as he didn’t like talking about it.
He went to sit at the bar with his brother. You went back to your friends who were clutching to you like they were hungry for gossip.
“God, what did he say?” Whispered Bianca.
“Nothing important! He didn’t get me a gift, can’t blame him, but he said he would make it up to him. Now, the subject is over. Please fetch me a drink.”
“Yes ma’am.”
You went on with your evening without really thinking about it, until the barman brought drinks to your table that were from Tommy and Joel. You felt like you were melting in the floor, you wanted to disappear. But still, you took the shot, while looking in his direction. He locked eyes with you and smiled. You were starting to feel the heat.
“He totally wants to fuck you.” Whispered Allison.
You spat half of the shot on the table.
“He doesn’t seem like the type to like younger women. He was married and he’s super serious.” You argued.
“Stop being delusional, he’s been looking since he entered the bar. And we all know you’ve been crushing on him since you were a teen, he was like your sexual awakening. What are you waiting for?” Said Samantha.
“Oh my god, stop.” You were starting to get fed up. You didn’t want your friends feeding into your delusions and make you think that this was more than it was.
Frustrated, you got up to ask for more water and of course, you bumped into him.
“Y’okay?” He asked.
“Yes, my friends were just being inappropriate and saying how hot is Tommy.” You lied to get your revenge.
The men both laughed, and Joel patted his brother on the shoulder.
“You still got it. I don’t.” Mr Miller laughed.
You finally got your water.
“Sorry for the bother, Joel… ehm… I mean, Mr Miller.” You didn’t know why you apologized, but it was automatic. You always apologized even though you had no reason to do so.
You went back to your friends and drank your water. Later, you ate a cake that was made by Bianca, and you all kept drinking until it was time to go. Still, you were careful and drank a lot of water. You certainly drank less than the girls and you were feeling okay, but not enough to drive. You felt tipsy, but you could still walk and think mostly straight.
The girls called a taxi and when you were leaving with them, Joel and Tommy were leaving at the same time.
“Hey, y/n, I was just dropping Tommy off, do you also want a ride?” He asked.
The girls pushed you more towards them to encourage you.
“Y-yeah, that would be really nice actually.” You tried to smile.
You hugged the girls before following the men. Tommy let you sit at the front, which made things more awkward for you. You kept fidgeting with your jewelry as soft music filled the truck. You tried looking outside, but sometimes, you’d turn your head to catch a glimpse of Mr Miller’s side profile. He had a nice strong jaw and a bump on his nose that you found adorable. Small wrinkles formed around his eyebrows as he was concentrating on the road.
Finally, he dropped off Tommy, you gave him directions to the building where you lived as you did some small talk. You texted your dad to tell him you were almost home and safe. You didn’t address that Joel was the one who drove you, though. Your dad was always worried when you went out late.
You were 2 minutes away when Joel got a call. You picked it up for him and put it on speaker. It was Sarah.
“Dad, Lea and I are going to sleep now, just wanted to say goodnight. See you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight baby girl. I’ll pick you up around 10 and we’ll get breakfast together. Love you.”
You hung up for him and he thanked you. You tried to ignore the way you felt your body melt as you heard the sweet nickname. He was a really sweet dad, really.
Joel parked his car behind the building to make sure you’d make it home safe. He didn’t like the idea of dropping you off in the streets. You cleared your throat, feeling your heart thumping loudly in your chest. You wanted to be bold, and maybe the alcohol you consumed helped a little.
“Mr Miller, you know, what you said about making it up to me?” He turned to you, looking at your face attentively.
“Yeah, what about it, darlin’?” The nickname was rolling on his tongue because of his stupidly charming southern accent.
You bit your lip. “Do you…” You leaned into him, elbow resting on the middle console of the car to support your upper body. He followed your movements and you saw him swallow nervously. “Do you want to come inside?” His eyes moved down to your lips, his long lashes covering most of his irises. You took that as a sign and pressed your lips against his. It was soft, timid at first, until he cupped your cheeks with his hands and leaned more into you, his tongue licking at your lips to ask for entry. You opened your mouth slightly to let him taste you and let yourself taste him. He tasted like the beers he had consumed. You couldn’t help the whimpers that died against his lips.
Your lips went their separate ways when you had to gasp for air. Joel seemed like he was hesitating, fingers tapping nervously on his steering wheel. You instantly panicked.
“I’m sorry, I guess I… misinterpreted…” You were opening the door, but he stopped you, holding your wrist.
“It’s just… are you sober enough? I don’t know if you’re just too drunk to understand who I am. And I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“Mr… Joel… I am. I want this. Please. If… if anything, I’m the one taking advantage of you here.”
He let out a shaky breath. “God. Don’t tell your dad.”
You agreed and got out of the truck, as he followed closely to you. You held his arm to keep him even closer and you almost ran to your front door. He kissed you again in the elevator, hungrily, this time, giving you a taste of what was coming.
On the 3rd floor, you went out of the elevator, and you fumbled with your keys until you found the right one and opened the door. You almost banged it shut. He grabbed your waist to bring you closer, mouth attaching to yours as you were guiding him blindly to your room.
“I always thought you were… so pretty and nice…and soft… but I didn’t want to be a creepy 36 years old man hitting on you…” He said between kisses.
You laid your back on your soft bed, making him hover his body on top of you. His strong thighs straddled your waist, making you feel every inch of him.
“Stop. I had a crush on you since I first met you.”
He laughed softly, a smile accentuating the small wrinkles around his eyes. Your hands caressed the soft flannel fabric of his green checkered shirt, before undoing the buttons. He helped you take off the black t-shirt that he was wearing underneath. You drank in every centimeter of tan skin you discovered there. He was already naturally tan, but the fact that he mostly worked outside brought out the delicious color of his skin even more. He wasn’t the most fit man, and he had a bit of a tummy, but his arms were strong and inviting. Every part of him looked soft.
“You’re perfect, Mr Miller.”
The name went straight to his dick.
“You’re gonna have to stop calling me like that, hun’.”
“Or else?” You asked teasingly.
His rough working hands brushed over your thighs, before pulling up slowly your shimmering dress. You helped him get it off, revealing a black lace bralette and matching panties.
“Or I won’t be able to control myself.”
The dress joined his shirt on the ground, becoming one in the pile of laundry. His hands caressed delicately the skin he discovered, your soft tummy, the smooth skin of your chest.
“I’m okay with that, Mr Miller.” You whispered near his ear, before nipping at his earlobe. You laughed as your nose brushed against his scruffy beard.
He groaned and held down your wrists, moving you away from him and keeping you stuck against the mattress. He bent the top of his body over yours, lips tracing the line of your neck, your chest, your belly, slowly going down on you. He finally placed a soft kiss on one of your thighs.
“So pretty… yet, so fucking bratty.” He sighed as his fingers traced the outline of your cunt, feeling the wetness already ruining your lace panties. A breath got stuck in your throat, your body squirming, asking for more.
His plush lips replaced his fingers, placing kisses on your clothed wetness. Your fingers curled in his soft hair, pushing him closer. He softly slapped your thigh and you let him go.
“Please, Joel. I wanted this since forever.”
He smirked as he looked up at you, brown eyes filled with lust.
“Use your words, hun’. Be precise.”
“God. Please eat me out. Please please please.” You begged, already a mess, even though he barely touched you.
He seemed satisfied with your begs. Two fingers pulled down your panties, before discarding them somewhere in the room. He buried his face between your thighs, and he licked from the bottom to your clit, testing the waters.
You let out a swear word under your breath, hands coming back to his brown curls. He laughed softly, his breath hitting your wetness and making you shiver.
“You’re such a mess already. Dirty little girl.”
You pulled on his curls to bring him closer, and he finally committed to the part, tongue curling around your bundle of nerves, making you squirm against him. Joel put a hand on your lower tummy to keep your body down.
“You taste so fucking sweet, hun’. Knew you’d be so good for me.” He praised, before his tongue pressed harder against you, putting more pressure in each movement. You felt your body tremble under each lap of his tongue, moaning openly for him.
His fingers parted your folds so you would feel everything directly in your nerves. Two fingers collected your wetness and stimulated you, discovering every part of that sweet cunt. He left a kiss on your clit, before sucking it in his mouth. That sent you over the edge so quickly.
“G-Gonna cum, god, please… Joel…” He sucked even harder as you came undone under him, trembling, and closing your thighs under the impact of the orgasm. He guided you through it, being patient and waiting for you to settle down.
His face went back to face yours, before kissing you softly, making you taste yourself on his mouth.
“Take off your pants, I-I want to suck you…” You moaned against his lips, hands clumsily finding his leather belt.
“Not tonight hun’, as much as I want you to. It’s your birthday, not mine. So instead, I’ll fuck you, okay?”
You held his gaze and nodded. You’d let him do anything he wanted. He finally took off his pants and his boxers at the same time. Your gaze traveled down his hips to discover what you had imagined so many times. He was even bigger than you had seen through his tight jeans.
“Like what you see?” He asked flirtatiously.
“Yes. Better than I imagined when I was touching myself.”
“You thought about me like that, hun’?”
You nodded and helped him take off your bra, freeing your breasts.
“What would your old man say, hm? His sweet girl thinking about his best friend while masturbating...” He whispered before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking softly to make it harder. His other hand grabbed your other boob, his fingers pressing softly into the flesh.
“He doesn’t need to know, Joel.” Your fingers tugged on his curls to make him stop. “Stop making me wait. Please fuck me.” You begged.
The older man finally obliged. His hands spread your thighs.
He suddenly stopped to ask. “Do you have condoms?”
“No, we don’t need them. Getting checked regularly and I’m on the pill. I want to feel you. Please.”
His hand held the base of his cock as he inserted himself slowly in your dripping hole. You tried to relax as much as you could to ease the pain. Seeing you wince under his insertion; he pressed a kiss against your mouth to soothe you. His soft brown eyes were looking attentively at your expression.
“You okay, hun? You still want this?”
“Yes. Just let me… just let me adjust. You’re fucking huge.”
“I know, I know, sweet girl. You’re doing good.” He shushed you, caressing your cheek as he finished inserting himself completely. You melted into his touch like you were starving for him.
You concentrated on your breath and your walls adjusted eventually. Joel was patient, caring. As always. You moved your hips to show him that he could start thrusting into you. He put his hands on each side of your head as he expertly moved his hips. Your hands came up to his cheeks to pull him into a soft kiss.
It hit you all at once. You were in love with Mr Miller. But you didn’t say anything, you just kept kissing him, muffling your whimpers against his mouth.
“How do you like it, hun’?” He asked as he let go of your lips to hide in the crook of your neck, leaving kisses there.
“Rough. Hard. Unless you’re too old to provide.” You teased with a smile.
“Watch your mouth, girl.”
His body suddenly left yours, leaving you empty and wanting more. He flipped your body over and held you by the hips to lift your ass up, as he thrusted forcefully back into you. You bit into your pillow to stop yourself from screaming. He seemed amused by your reactions, and he kept a fast and hard rhythm, the sound of your skin slapping filling the silent room.
“F-Fuck, Mr Miller…”
You moved your ass against him to feel him more, and he slapped your butt cheek, hard. You sobbed his name and your body fell back into the mattress. This didn’t stop him. He kept thrusting harshly into you as his fingers held your ass.
“Where do you want me, hun’?”
He pulled on your hair to lift your head and hear your response.
“Cum in me, please.”
His hips stuttered as he shot his warm liquid between your walls. You whined as he pulled his dick away from your hole. Even though your whole body was sore, you managed to get up and run to the bathroom, as Joel looked at you with an amused grin.
***
When you came back to your room, Mr Miller was still here, laid on your mattress, only wearing his boxers. You found clean panties in a drawer and joined him, your small body finding his warmth. He put his strong arms around you.
“Happy birthday.” He whispered as he smelled your hair.
“Thank you. It may be the best birthday. Whatever dad bought me… it doesn’t beat this gift.” You lifted your chin to steal a kiss from him. You bathed in his warmth and his spicy perfume, refusing to think that this was the last time you would do this. Still, it was in the back of his mind.
You eventually fell asleep in his arms, and he refused to move, not wanting to wake you up.
***
You woke up before him and you were grateful for this opportunity: you took the time to drink in the sight his peaceful expression and the soft curls sticking to his forehead. You got up slowly not to wake him up and found his flannel shirt on the ground. You took it in your hands, feeling the soft fabric, before stealing it to wear it around the apartment.
You made coffee and the sound of the machine woke him up. He joined you in the kitchen, looking groggy and tired. You sat up on the counter as you looked at him with an amused smile.
“Hi.” You said joyfully.
He approached you and pressed his hips between your legs as he leaned in for a kiss. “Hi, hun’. You look good in my shirt.”
He looked at the time and sighed. “I have to take a shower and then pick up Sarah. M’sorry… I wanted to stay.”
“It’s okay.”
You pointed him to the bathroom and before he disappeared, you said his name. He looked at you through the door.
“Is this the last time, Joel?” It felt weird, intimate, saying his first name now that you were fully sober and awake.
“’Course not.”
You stopped the coffee machine and joined him in the bathroom, leaving a kiss on his lips before disappearing with him in the bathroom.
“We may… have time for a quickie before I leave, hm?”
You laughed and your bodies found each other in the heat of the shower.
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urlonelystarrr · 2 months
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be my daddy
older!keegan p. russ x virgin!reader
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GENRE → smut.
SYNOPSIS → keegan's your older, mean ex-marine neighbor, who takes a liking to the pretty little thing next door - you.
TAGS/WARNINGS → age gap (18 & 32), corruption kink, virgin!reader, fingering, dirty talking, pussy & ass eating, dom!keegan, degrading, squirting, some praise, cock sucking, nipple sucking, creampie, manhandling.
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the neighborhood that keegan lived in wasn't exactly the most inviting. so, when he caught a glimpse of a moving truck unloading furniture into the home across from his, he was intrigued. it was a gloomy afternoon, and he had decided it was the perfect time for a smoke break. he sat on his porch, lighting up a cigarette and taking a hit. keegan had lived in the neighborhood for years, the only people he really saw were drug dealers and people that would come and go. being a 32 year old ex-marine, he didn't have much friends in the neighborhood, and he preferred it that way. most of his neighbors would describe him as an asshole, but he didn't give a fuck about them anyways. he took another hit, watching the street, and noting a few cars that would pass by here and there.
the sound of footsteps caught his attention, as he turned his head to see a young, teenage girl. his breath hitched as soon as he caught sight of you - the prettiest, young thing he'd ever seen. he couldn't believe it - you were fucking gorgeous. he'd seen his fair share of women, but you were different. keegan was good at reading people, and he could tell that a pretty young thing like you was innocent. he wanted to take it away from you. he let out a puff of smoke, his eyes narrowing. his voice was deep and low, almost like a rumble. "hey, kid. c'mere," he commanded lowly, making a 'come here' gesture with his middle and ring finger.
you looked over at him, taking in the sight of this male who was calling out to you. and without thinking, you walked up to his house, past the mailbox and standing right at the small stairs. he leaned back on the chair, an arm crossed over his chest as he took another slow hit, the smoke curling around in the air. you noted that both of his arms had a sleeve of tattoos on them, both consisting of skulls, knives and other things related. his eyes were narrowed and intense, piercing blue eyes scanning you up and down. he licked his lips at the sight of you in that pleated pink miniskirt, and a lacey white top. the backpack slung over your shoulder made him question your age, however. "why the fuck are you dressed like that in weather like this?" he scoffed slightly, enjoying the way you squirmed. "i don't really see the issue," you replied, your voice a stark contrast to his rough one. he scratched at his jaw, the black stubble that was there making you wonder how old he was. "it's fuckin' freezing out here, kid. n' what's a pretty little thing like you doin' out here alone?" he mused, a faint smirk appeared on his lips. "just walking home from school," you said, fiddling with the straps on your backpack. "you a highschooler?" he tilted his head, examining you. "mhm. a senior."
"so you're eighteen?" he said with interest, resting his elbows on his knees. when you nodded, he let out a low chuckle. the unsuspecting look in your eyes immediately told him that you were naive, no smart person would've let him know that much information. "you've got no idea, do ya?" he said, making you tilt your head in confusion. before you could speak, he exhaled out a puff of smoke, letting the cigarette fall to the ground as he extinguished it with the front of his boot. "so you're a lil highschool girl, walking around a neighborhood like this with your tits and ass all on display." he said, his tone taking on a more aggressive and confrontational approach. he liked to make fun of you, knowing full well that he'd give anything just to get a squeeze of those perfect tits, or to get a taste of your ass. you weren't used to people talking like this, so you froze up, not knowing what to make of his interpretation of you. "that's not what i..." you replied, trying to find it within you to defend yourself, but you couldn't seem to find your words as he antagonized you. "it's what it looks like. your daddy let you walk around like that, huh?" he said, standing up and leaning over the porch railing. the black shirt clung to his muscular body, a bicep vein bulging out as he watched your every move. "i guess? i don't... why are you...?" you tried to make sense of it, why he kept questioning you. some part of keegan enjoyed the look of discomfort on your face, letting a low chuckle escape his lips. "i'm just wonderin', sweet thing. there's a lot of men out there who'd love to bring you to their place and take you. gotta be careful." he warned, the railing creaking under his weight as he adjusted himself, trying to hide how his dick was starting to get hard. you nodded, he was looking out for you after all. "thank you, mister. i don't think i caught your name..."
"it's keegan. don't ever call me that shit though. you'll address me as 'sir', you got that, sweetheart? or maybe you need me to bury that in your little head?" the way your eyes widened and the way you shook your head was both amusing and cute to him. "no sir, I think i've got it." he nodded, tilting his head towards your house. "your parents waiting at home for ya?"
"no sir, they're at work." you said, not meeting his eyes. he started to walk down the steps, lifting your chin up to look at him. "look at me, pretty girl." he said, an unknown emotion flickering in his eyes when you looked up at him. "maybe you should stay with me. it's not safe being alone, is it?" his grip tightened ever so slightly, but you were too busy trying to calm your racing heart. "i don't wanna be a bother," you hesitated, watching as he pulled his hand away and walked back up the steps. you could make out the faint imprint of something in his jeans, and he turned around to face you. "don't stand there n' stare at me, get your ass over here." you walked up the steps, your skirt riding up momentarily, and before you knew it, you were alone with him.
the inside of his house was much nicer than the outside. it has its own modern and dark look. the wood floors creaked under his boots, as he took steps into his kitchen, letting you sit down at the island counter. he poured himself a glass of whiskey, watching you with interest. part of him couldn't believe how easy it was to get you alone with him. "so do you just let anyone into your house?" your plump lips stretched into a small smile, his eyes flickering to your mouth, imagining what it'd be like to fuck your throat. "no, i don't. but you seem dumb enough for me to almost feel bad for ya," he said, taking a sip of his whiskey, smirking when he watched your face fall slightly. "i'm just playin', princess." he reassured. you couldn't help but smile, turning your head away to notice a deer head mounted on the wall in the living room. "is that real?" you asked, and he had to lean over the counter to see what you were looking at. "that? fuck yeah it is, caught it myself."
"so you're a hunter?" you asked, turning your head back to look at him, only to find him already looking at you. "sure am. been doin' it ever since i got outta the military." god, he couldn't help himself, the thought of hunting you down sounded so fucking appealing, his dick twitching in his jeans at the thought. a flicker of interest was apparent in your eyes, and he knew you were going to ask about his experience in that field. "joined when i was twenty, then after i did my time, i moved here n' started hunting. this area has the best woods for hunting. maybe i shoulda brought you out there." he said, taking on a more predatory tone. "for what? are you going to dress me up as a bunny and chase me?" you teased, laughing at the thought, without knowing what was going on in his head. he set down his glass, rounding the counter to come over to where you were sitting. your skirt hiked up your thick thighs, and he leaned his weight onto your thigh, looking at you intensely. "don't tempt me." he added, before pulling away. he took your hand, helping you off the stool and placing his hand on your lower back, guiding you over to his living room. as he sat you down on the couch, he let his legs spread wide as he slumped back into the soft leather. "you're something else... you know that?" he asked, turning to look at you. your lips parted as if you were going to say something, but you let him continue. "other girls your age...they're fuckin' eager to explore themselves n' go around, have sex with just about any guy. same for the guys. but you," he laughed to himself, which sounded mocking. "you look like you don't even know what sex is. but your body looks like it's made for me. you ever gotten fucked before?" he studied you, gauging out your reaction.
your eyes widened from his vulgar language, feeling your skin flush from how crude he was being. "sir...that's not-" before you could finish, he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back roughly. "i asked you a fuckin question," he said threateningly, his eyes narrowing at you. "i haven't," you admitted, pressing your thighs together. his eyes darted down to your thighs, and a smirk appeared on his face. "you dirty little girl. don't tell me this is turning you on?" when you didn't reply, he chuckled, his grip tightening. "you're disgusting. you like getting manhandled by grown men? is that it? you should be scared, not trying to cover up how wet your pussy's gettin' f'me." he taunted, leaning in closer. you let out a soft whimper, feeling your body growing hotter from his degrading words. you hadn't ever felt like this before, and you didn't expect yourself to enjoy having someone talk to you with so much disdain. "open your mouth," he commanded, spitting into the open cavity. he forced your mouth open again, using his thumb to spread around the saliva in your mouth. "good. you're gonna need all the spit you can get," he said lowly, releasing your hair. he reached down, and your gaze flickered to his thighs, leading up to his crotch where a prominent bulge formed in his jeans. "have you sucked dick before?" he looked at you, unbuckling his belt. "no sir," you bit your lip nervously as you watched his large hands slipping the leather out from the loops. "c'mere," he pulled you closer, tossing a throw pillow onto the ground onto the floor. "kneel down on this, wouldn't wanna bruise your little knees." you sunk onto your knees, your weight resting onto the soft pillow that was enough to cushion your knees from the hard floor. he took your hands, guiding them up his thighs and to his unbuttoned and unzipped jeans. you took it as a sign to pull them down, all the way to his ankles. he freed his own cock from his boxers - thick and veiny, the pink tip leaking pre-cum. he pulled you closer, his hand on the back of your head while you pulled his boxers down to his ankles. he took his cock, rubbing the tip against your plump lips. he let out a small groan, watching as you opened your mouth. "that's it, baby, use your tongue." his eyes crinkled at the corner, his lips parted as he felt your wet and warm tongue wrapping itself around his tip, your tongue running along the head and teasing him. he knew it was your first time, so he knew he had to hold back from fucking your throat raw. you started to take him into your mouth, your head bobbing up and down slowly, as you adjusted to the feeling of his cock in your mouth, throbbing and warm. you let out small grunts as he started to thrust up into your mouth, his breathing heavy and uneven. "fuck," he muttered lowly, panting as you started to quicken your pace, your head bobbing up and down. your mouth soaked his cock, and you started to find your own pace, your hand reaching up to grip the base, preparing yourself to deepthroat him. he let out a deep groan when you finally did, his tip deep in your throat as you swallowed down his cock. he let out a big shuddering gasp, "oh fuck, keep doing that." he held your head in place, moaning as he thrusted into your mouth, your saliva dribbling down his length and onto his balls.
"you like sucking cock, don't'cha? you like having me use your mouth?" he taunted, gritting his teeth as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him up deliciously. he knew he was gonna cum soon, and he wasn't gonna hold back. he started to fuck your mouth, watching as your eyes watered from the pressure, and you held back a choke as his tip hit the back of your throat. your hands were on his thighs, squeezing them as his eyes rolled back, emptying himself into your mouth. "shit..." he hissed, pulling your head off. small strings of saliva and cum attached your lips to the pink tip of his cock, and you eagerly licked your own lips, swallowing his cum. he groaned as you licked him clean, his hand tangling in your hair. "atta girl." he stood up abruptly, kicking his pants and boxers off that were gathered around his ankles, forcing you up to your feet.
"i'm gonna eat that sweet little pussy of yours," he grabbed you and forced you into his room, laying you down on your back. he got rid of his own shirt, his muscular body on display. you caught glimpses of even more tattoos on him, but you weren't able to stare for long as he had pulled your top off. "been dyin' to see what's under your clothes," he said, pulling your skirt down. he wasted no time undressing you, unclipping your bra and letting it fall to the floor. his mouth watered at the sight of your bare tits, and he took one nipple into his mouth, while his thumb flicked over the other one. you let out a gasp, the pleasure on your sensitive nipples causing your back to arch. his tongue swirled around your puffy nipple, eyes fluttering closed as he sucked on your tit hungrily, his hand grabbing a hold of the other. he pulled back, taking the other nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. you moaned and writhed beneath him, feeling his tip poke at your clothed pussy. his thumb and forefinger rolled and pulled on your nipple, while his mouth was latching onto your nipple. he pulled back, teasing your nipples with his tongue, loving the sound of your whimpers and moans. he kissed your neck, trailing hot and wet kisses down your body, until he reached your pussy. he pulled the lacey fabric down, exposing your shaven wet pussy to him. he licked his lips, spreading your puffy lips open to get a good look at your glistening folds. "fuck," he let out a low groan, his tongue running up your slit and to your clit. you gasped, watching as he spread your pussy open, lapping at it hungrily. the rough stubble tickled the skin on your inner thigh, your juices coating his mouth and chin. he groaned as he tasted your sweet little pussy, his tongue swirling around your little clit.
he fucking loved the way you moaned, the way your hand reached down to tug at his hair. he loved how your thick, warm thighs would squeeze his head while he lapped at your gushing, virgin pussy. the look of pure bliss on your face was enough to make him cum again, but he wanted more. "get on all fours, right fucking now." his tone of urgency made you listen - and so you flipped over, your pussy sticky and gushy from cumming. you felt his hand push your head down into the mattress, and a finger running along your pussy hole. he removed his hand from your head, using his big veiny hands to spread open your ass, your little hole all puckered. now, keegan hadn't ever felt the urge to eat ass or see why people did - but yours was too fucking perfect for him not to. he leaned in, his stubble tickling your skin as his mouth latched onto your asshole, making you cry out of surprise. his tongue swirled, flicked, and fucked your tight ass, his fingers reaching down to rub your aching clit. and soon enough, you were moaning and begging him for more. "that feels so good sir!" you cried out beneath him, and he smirked while dragging his mouth down back to where your pussy was. "i know baby, keep takin' it like the dirty little girl you are."
he kept on devouring your pussy, until your eyes were rolled back, and your toes were curled, and your hips were lifting off the bed. he loved being the first to do this to you, to corrupt your innocence. you were all his. he laid you back down on your back, laying next to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. he kissed you, sensually while his hand made its way down your body, to your seeping pussy. "have ya ever fingered yourself?" he whispered into the kiss, his voice low and smooth. you shook your head no, a small gasp filling his mouth as his thumb found your clit. his ring and middle finger circled around your entrance, and he found it hard to restrain himself as he knew he couldn't be too rough with you, yet. your brows furrowed, your hips lifting slightly as his index finger slid into you, curling up into your pussy. "mmh, feels weird, sir.." you whimpered, not used to having something inside of you. his fingers were much larger and longer than yours in comparison, and he liked that. "my fingers the only fuckin' thing that's ever been inside ya? seems like it, you're squirmin' around from one finger," he smirked, starting to finger your pussy slowly. the feeling of his thumb on your clit made your whimpers turn into soft moans, and he had slipped in another finger without you realizing. his pace started to increase, his other hand rubbing your clit steadily while his fingers moved in and out of you, curling up to hit that sweet gummy spot inside you. you couldn't stop the moans from spilling out, your hips pushing up into his hand. "dirty fuckin' bitch, look atcha, leaking all over my fucking fingers." you moaned again and again, tears forming in your eyes. you felt like you were gonna cum again, but something felt off, it felt like you were about to piss. your tight little pussy squeezed his fingers, making him lean down and kiss your neck. "feels like....i'm gonna pee," you warned, but he didn't give a single fuck. he gave a slap to your pussy, making you let out a small squeak. "a squirter, huh? let's see..." he licked his lips, increasing his pace until he was roughly finger fucking you. he rubbed your clit furiously, making you squirm and cream all over his fingers, and then his eyes widened when you started to squirt all over his fucking fingers, the sound of his fingers pounding into your tight young pussy made him leak cum against your back. you were panting heavily, as he yanked his fingers out of your pussy, and stuffed them into his mouth.
with force he pushed you onto your back, positioning himself in between your legs. he spanked your puffy lips with his meaty cock, eyes flickering with amusement as you squirmed from the sensation on your clit. "i can't...take anymore," you whimpered, squeezing the bed sheets. he roughly grabbed your face, his cock poking through your folds. "you fuckin will, i'll make this pussy mine even if it fuckin' breaks ya," he seethed, slowly sinking his cock inside of you. he let out a small grunt, feeling your virgin pussy stretching open from how big his cock was. you started to gasp and writhe, and he slowed down just a little bit. "fuck, you're fuckin' tight, ain't'cha?"
your head rolled to the side, trying to fit his dick into your young little pussy, and you let out small gasps and grunts. "please sir..." he grabbed a hold of one of your tits, slapping it and squeezing. "please what? look how your pussy's droolin' all over my cock, you're so fuckin' dirty, you know that?" he pushed your legs up to your chest, squeezing your thighs until your pussy finally sucked him in. he let out a low groan, starting to fuck you slowly and passionately. "sir, i feel so full!" you cried out, tearing up while his cock filled up your pussy. "please, don't stop," you moaned, looking up at him as he planted his hands on either side of you, rutting into your pussy, a groan leaving his mouth as he felt you squeeze around him. with a sudden movement, he grabbed you by the throat, and started pounding into you mercilessly, making you scream and shake under. "that's it baby, take my fuckin' cock, you like getting fucked by an older man, huh?" he smacked your tit, fingers digging into your throat. "i could be your fuckin' daddy, say it, say im your daddy," he planted his cock deep inside of you, his tip itching that gummy spot inside you, that spot that made you go completely dumb. "y-you're my daddy," tears leaked down your face from pure bliss, as he continued to stuff you full of his cock. "good fuckin' girl, fuck, you're gonna make me cum, princess." he was an animal, pounding into you so hard that you wondered if you were actually going to break, his mouth was latched onto your nipple, sucking hard while he buried himself inside of you.
he groaned, flipping you onto your stomach. he spread your legs roughly, his cock finding it's place inside you again. he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back to look him in the eyes. he slapped and groped your tits again, feeling your pussy flutter around his cock. he smacked your ass hard, grabbing a cheek as he pounded into you, a mixture of your cum and juices making strings of cum stick to him. the room was filled with the sounds of your pussy sucking in his cock, squeezing around him until you were a mess, crying hard as you reached your third orgasm, cumming all over his cock. "makin' a mess all over me, don't worry, i'll make ya clean it up." he hissed, fucking you twice as hard as his cock throbbed inside of you, eyes rolling back while filling your pussy up with his cum. he pulled out, slapping his cum-coated cock onto your weeping pussy. you cried out, trying to close your legs. "open your mouth, you dirty bitch," he crawled up to you, shoving his cock into your mouth. his eyes rolled back again as you sucked his cock clean, and he pulled out, roughly holding your face. "if i catch you walkin' around like a little fuckin bimbo again, best believe i'll fuck you so hard ya won't even be able to walk." he released your face, stepping back to find his clothes. "yes sir," you replied weakly, sitting up and feeling sticky. he smirked at that, stopping you from leaving his room. "bathroom's right there, go on, take a shower n' i'll get you your clothes." he leaned down, and kissed your lips again, his hands running up your body. "my pretty little girl. you're mine to fuck, to break, to do anything with anytime i please."
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authors note: sorry I've been gone a while :( i've always loved cod men but i haven't been confident enough to really write about them, so yeahhh... more of them will be coming soon. and I'm sorry but I had to delete my old posts, I just don't like those characters and now I'm starting to lean towards characters that I actually like. (ghostface, Keegan, ghost, könig, so much more...)
922 notes · View notes
haeryna · 3 months
Text
first time that i called you mine (that wasted summer) ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ⋆。 ゚☁︎。 ⋆。 ゚☀︎。 ⋆。 ゚
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summary: suguru figures out he loves you the summer when you're both fifteen. satoru calls you his a few months after. when you finally realize it, there's nothing left to call yours. ↪ a continuation of this drabble
tw: angst, referenced abandonment, homophobia, implied mild sexual content, reader calls satoru a manwhore (affectionate), swearing, the author loves parentheses a concerningly large amount, not proofread teehee
notes: title taken from loote's wasted summer. reader is a teenager, along with satoru, suguru, and shoko. banner from @/cafekitsune
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Suguru is only six years old when he falls in love with you.
At first, it was entirely childish. When he saw you for the first time, tears streaming down your cheeks by the creek he'd explore with Satoru, he liked feeling needed. He liked how you'd clung to him so desperately, and selfishly, he liked having something he didn't share with Satoru.
(He should have known that whatever was Suguru's inevitably also became Satoru's)
He knew he loved you when you were eight, bravely defending Satoru from a group of bratty kids who were calling him slurs before Satoru had even knew what love was. He knew he loved you when you were twelve and crying for him when Suguru got into his first fist fight, sniffling as you patched up the bloody scrapes after.
But this was different.
"Sugu, sit still!" you hissed, as he squirmed uncomfortably on the lumpy sofa that resided in his basement. You were fifteen, and tired of Suguru complaining about how the nearest piercer was a two hour drive away. In one hand you brandished a piercing gun; in your other, the piercings that were meant to go into his earlobes. Besides you, Satoru gleefully filmed Suguru's discomfort.
"Are you sure that's sanitary? Why are we doing this because you're bored, can't you experiment on Satoru first?" Suguru shot back, leaning away from the piercing gun.
"You're such a big baby, you've been complaining about your empty earlobes for months now. You literally came with me to buy the piercing gun, which cost me my whole allowance by the way, so sit still. And it's summer break, so if you're going to do something dramatic to your appearance, you have to do it now." Before he could stop you, you determinedly swung your leg up and over, lightly straddling his lap.
Suguru realized several critical things as he registered your weight sinking into him.
You smelled like the meadows you'd roamed as kids, mixed with the smell of cigarette smoke (Shoko had convinced him to take up smoking with her) and burnt sugar (Satoru's failed attempt at some monstrosity that still sat smoking in Suguru's kitchen). You smelled like them, he realized. Like a mix of the people who loved you.
You were pretty. He'd always known that, but now, with the heat of your body pressed against his, he didn't realize how somewhere along the way you'd grown into your gangly limbs and the clothes you complained were a few sizes too large.
These two realizations were combined with the fact that he was a boy, a teenaged boy, and you were so close that his heart was going to burst. You smelled like flowers, smoke, and sugar, you smelled like him, like you could be his, and if you moved an inch lower you would know that the Suguru you always came to for comfort was just another boy, and he couldn't bear it. He would rather die than lose you, he would do anything just to have you, he wanted, he wanted, he wanted-
"Yay, all done!" Effortlessly you slid right off his lap as fast as you'd hopped on it, and it was then he realized his earlobes were stinging. In the time he'd spent dazedly staring at you, you'd pierced his ears.
Satoru snickered, still holding his phone obnoxiously close to Suguru's face. "He looks like he's in shock. Hey, if I get a piercing, would you straddle me like that too? You'll make me jealous, you know."
As the two of you bickered in the background, Suguru couldn't help but swallow shakily, lightly pressing his fingertips to the round black earrings you'd picked out for him.
"I love it," he says quietly. "Thank you."
(I love you, is what he meant to say, but you didn't understand because you merely shot him a smug smile before berating Satoru for being a "manwhore, Satoru, I'm not like your groupies at school, go get one of them to pierce your ears for you if you want one so bad!")
Suguru has always known he's loved you, but that summer, he knew he loved you.
Where Suguru goes, Satoru follows. It's only inevitable that he'd realize he was in love with you too. Despite his easygoing nature and flirtatious charms, there's a critical difference between Suguru and Satoru. Satoru gets possessive, a dangerous combination of the spoiled upbringing and how guarded his heart is.
"Who is that?"
Satoru blatantly stares at the boy leaning against your locker. Pettily, he thinks that he's definitely shorter than Satoru, and uglier too. It doesn't seem to matter though, because you're laughing at whatever the he said. As you turn to reach for your books, the hungry look in the boy's eyes make Satoru's fists clench.
"Kenji?" Shoko looks amused when she sees the look in Satoru's eyes. "Isn't he in our English class? He's got a massive crush on her, apparently it's all he talks to his friends about."
Satoru grits his teeth. "Oh, does he?"
He can't quite explain the burning, insidious feeling that forms in his chest. What could've possibly been so funny to make you laugh like that? The smiles you're giving him, why didn't you give those to Satoru too?
The boy, Kenji, reaches over to your face, looking as though he's going to tuck a loose strand of hair around your ear. Something inside of Satoru snaps. He stalks over, ignoring Shoko's snicker, calling your name loudly and abruptly.
"There you are!"
You turn, surprised, as Kenji's hand drops away, his lovesick smile turning into something that looks something similar to fear. "'Toru, where were you? Suguru said he needed to stay in during lunch for a club, but I couldn't find you when I waited outside your classroom."
Satoru's heart lurches traitorously inside his chest, and before he can stop himself, he latches onto your wrist, tugging you towards him. "Don't scare me like that," he murmurs, cradling you firmly in his arms. "Shoko and I couldn't find you, it made me worried."
You peer up at him, clueless to the long forgotten boy fuming behind you. "Ah, I'm sorry, I forgot I left my lunch in my locker." Something in Satoru's chest yearns. Is it because you're so used to his physical affection, his touch, his love, that you don't give him the same starry eyed look as the boy who's still awkwardly waiting by your locker? How can he get you to look like that? How could he make you love him too?
The realization doesn't strike him like he expects, but it feels a bit like finally finding the choreography that fit with the song, the way that he would find a lyric for a song Suguru was attempting to write. It felt like coming home, and reclaiming what was once lost.
Satoru loved you. He has always loved you.
"Let's go," he says, signature smile back on his face, any trace of vulnerability long gone. As he intertwines his fingers with yours, he turns back to see the resigned, frustrated look on Kenji's face.
Just to be an asshole, he tucks your hair behind your ear as you walk away.
You're sixteen when Suguru and Satoru get together. They don't tell you anything. They don't have to. You can see it in the way that Suguru cradles Satoru's face when he falls asleep, affection settling warm in his dark brown eyes. You can see it in the way that Satoru somehow always needs something from Suguru at the precise moment that a girl tries to ask him out. It's in the dark purple marks you can see peaking out from Suguru's collarbone when his shirt slips down an inch, in the way that when Satoru stretches, you can see angry red scratches down his back.
You're sixteen when Satoru's parents find out, shattering the life that you once had. You're sixteen, sitting in Suguru's basement, sobbing as his parents tell you that he's gone. Shoko is saying something to you, but everything feels muffled and hazy, as you let out a choked wail. You know he's gone. The guitar you gave him only a couple months ago, the binder full of music he's composed, even Satoru's clothes that he'd keep in the dresser next to his bed. Every trace of them is gone. You feel as though they took your heart with you.
You're sixteen when Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru leave you, and it's in that moment that you realize you loved them a little too late.
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babydollmarauders · 1 month
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THE START OF IT ALL — JACK HUGHES
part of the el!hughes au
summary: how jack and y/n (lovie) met, through the grace of quinn
warnings: bad parental guidance, small mention of body insecurities and anxiety. (4k words)
notes: a well overdue fic! i’m so thankful to you guys for being patient with me as i navigate writing in my hectic new reality of college and working full time! <3
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goosebumps trail my exposed skin, the chilling air of the practice rink nipping from my lack of sweater.
the sound of skates scraping against the ice rings in my ears, mingling with the bangs of sticks hitting against pucks and creating an oddly peaceful soundtrack for my meditation.
my feet are killing me.
capezio tights stretch across my legs, making them shimmer in the fluorescent lighting of the rink, and a black leotard hugs my body, neatly pulled together with a pink wrap skirt. ballet flats adorn my feet, my pointe shoes laying idly in my dance bag in the seat beside me as i watch the national development team practice.
it feels like so long ago that i came and watched my first practice; the one fateful day of september seeming light years away now. but in reality it was only a mere couple months ago that a group of us dance girls had decided to walk down the block and watch a practice.
Natalie and Thalia wanted to check out the guys, and me? i just didn’t want to be left out. but then watching one practice turned into watching two, and then three, and before i knew it, it became a regular occurrence. it didn’t matter anymore that the girls lost interest and no longer tagged along, in fact, i enjoyed the time spent alone.
this became my safe haven; no dance partners to critique my fouettés, no parents whispering in my ear that i’m not doing well enough in school or that i’m not practicing my dances enough or that i need to go on a diet because i don’t look as pristine or perfect in my leotard as the other girls do. just me and the sounds of several sixteen year old boys whipping pucks into the net and gliding around the ice.
as the piercing sound of a whistle slices through my peace, i know that afternoon practice has ended, my serene escape over until tomorrow.
as the team shuffles off the ice and back into their locker room, i revel in the silence for a little while, taking the moment to change from my flats to sneakers; the twenty-seven minute trek home will be a lot more terrain than the five minute one from the ballet studio to the rink, and a lot harder on my shoes.
pushing up from my seat, my hand wraps around the strap of my dance bag, slinging it over my shoulder as i slide through the rows of seats. my feet squeak against the cement steps, two at a time until i reach the exit floor.
pushing through the glass doors, i slip out into the crisp November air, ducking my head as i walk past a group of players that stand around their cars after practice, hair damp from post-practice showers. a few more players can be heard slamming the doors of their cars, obviously in much more of a rush to get home than their teammates.
it only takes five minutes of walking for me to become paranoid, a black GMC following behind me with every turn i make. my heart stutters with anxiety, my pace speeding as i attempt to shake the fear that rakes my body.
but as i speed up, so does the car, until finally the drivers window rolls down as they drive at a pace similar to my walking speed. inside is a teenage boy, a familiar face that i know i’ve seen on the ice of the usntdp rink.
“hey, you watch our practices.” it’s a statement, he knows i do, i assume a lot of them know,m. it’s kind of hard to miss the thirteen year old girl sitting alone in the stands every afternoon.
i stop, turning towards the boy as i nod in response.
“i always see you walking home, do you want a ride?” he asks before his eyes widen, stumbling over words, “wait, i just realized how that sounds— i’m not trying to kidnap you, i swear! you just live a few houses down, i figured i’d save you some time.”
i’m aware that my answer might be stupid and not very well thought out, but in this moment, i truthfully don’t care— the boy seems trustworthy, an odd sense of warmth radiating from him, so i nod again.
“yes, please.”
his head nods in the direction of the passengers side, unlocking the doors as he tells me to hop in; and i do so, slipping into the seat and hastily pulling the seatbelt across my body.
“i’m Quinn,” he introduces, a hand held out in front of me, “i play for the national development team.”
“i know,” i hum out, shaking his hand, “i’m y/n.”
Quinn steps lightly on the gas pedal, continuing the route to our apparently shared street.
“so, why do you come to the practices?” he questions, and though the question itself sounds a little judgy, his tone is soft, “at first i assumed maybe you were a sister, but then i’ve never seen you with any of the guys.”
i watch as the trees pass by in a blur through the window, my hands fidgeting with the strap of my dance bag that sits on the floor between my feet.
“it’s peaceful.” i confess, making him throw me a lopsided smirk mixed in with furrowed brows, “i don’t really get along with any of the girls in my ballet class, and my parents don’t get home from work until dinner time. its nice to just kill some time and listen to the sounds of the skates on the ice and the pucks hitting the net.”
Quinn hums as though he understands me, and for once, it actually feels like someone does. we’ve barely spoken to each other, we’ve only just met, but for once in my life, i feel as though someone isn’t judging me or about to tell me what i could do better.
“i get it.” he shrugs, “so, have you been a hockey fan, or are you just a little oddball and like the sounds?”
a small smile spreads across my lips, a laugh escaping at his joke, and Quinn garners an appearance of pride at making me laugh. his chest puffs out just slightly, his posture straightening and a smirk resting on his lips.
“i am,” i nod, before i realize i should clarify, “a hockey fan. i’m a hockey fan.”
it’s Quinn’s turn to chuckle now, eyes flickering towards me before they settle back on the road ahead, “but i get the feeling you are a little oddball, aren’t you? or at least maybe some other people think so.”
the vibe in the car turns stony, my body tensing.
“yeah,” i drop my eyes to my hands, finding great interest in the dirtied white color of my bag strap, “i prefer to keep to myself, you know? it feels like all everyone tells me is how i can do better. how i can perfect my dances, or how i’m so pretty but i would be so much prettier if i did this or that, or how despite straight A’s and a 4.0 GPA, there’s more i could do to get into a stupid ivy league that i don’t wanna go to-”
i suck in a deep breath, cutting off my rambles prematurely, because here i was dumping all my insecurities and problems on a boy three years my senior and who i’ve only just met.
“i’m sorry, those are some shitty people.” Quinn frowns, a hand tightening just slightly around the steering wheel.
“that was all my parents.”
“fuck,” he curses, glancing over at me quickly with wide eyes as we turn onto our street, “your parents said all that?”
i shrug, nodding my head, “it’s what a parent does, right? they criticize you to be the best you can be. the girls in dance aren’t much better.”
Quinn parks the car in front of what i assume is his billet house, turning in his seat to face me properly.
“a parent should guide you to be the best version of yourself, not criticize you until you become the person they want you to be.”
his words repeat in my head, my brows threading together as i hum in acknowledgment of his statement.
rather than truly respond, i unbuckle my seatbelt, pushing the door open as i gather my bag from the floor.
“thank you for the ride, Quinn. sorry for dumping all my problems on you.”
i don’t give him a chance to respond, hopping out of the car and slinging my bag over my shoulder as i shut the door.
i’m only one house away when i hear him yell, “hey! same time tomorrow?”
i spin around confused, finding him standing next to the car with his hockey bag slung over his own shoulder.
“what?”
“same time tomorrow! i’ll drive you home!” he smiles gently, before giving a small wave and heading into his house.
what the fuck just happened? did i just make a new friend?
***
my entire body aches, my toes in particular feeling incredibly sore due to the bruised skin that covers them, but i push through.
only a week until the spring performance and i still don’t feel that my solo is where it should be. my pointe shoes make my toes prick with pain, but over time, the pain turns into a stinging numbness.
my reflection stares back at me in the mirrored wall, a frustrated puff of air passing through my parted lips. my tutu caresses my arms as i let them fall to my sides, lowering back down to flat feet.
in the mostly empty building, i can hear the ring of the bell above the front entrance followed by muffled conversation approaching the private room i currently occupy.
i walk over to the chair that holds my things, my brows furrowing as i check the time. i still have five minutes until Quinn is due to pick me up. that gives me more than enough time to run through the solo once more.
walking over to the barre, i flex my feet a couple of times. but before i can begin to dance, i’m bombarded by the sound of conversation.
“what are we doing at a dance studio?” a male voice echoes through the building, grumbling in obvious annoyance.
“i told you, i have to pick up a friend.” i recognize that voice immediately; Quinn. my close friend of four months.
“a girlfriend?” i scrunch my nose at the other person’s question, part of me wanting to shout out that i can hear them.
“a girl that’s a friend, yeah. more like a little sister.” a heated blush rises to my cheeks, a smile spreading across my lips.
he thinks of me as a sister.
a knock sounds against the door of the private room before it creaks open, Quinn’s head popping in.
“hey, twinkle toes, you ready to go?” he smiles warmly, his eyes sparking with care as he eyes my outfit, “nice tutu.”
“you’ve seen this one before.” i giggle but it quickly dies off into a sigh as i think about how much work i still need to put into the dance, “give me one sec?”
“yeah, go for it.” he nods, “mind if i come in?”
“come on in.”
closing my eyes, i take a deep breath, tuning out the sounds of Quinn and his company entering the room. breathing out, i enter fifth position.
plié, passé relevé, back down to fifth position, my eyes open as i run through the rest of the dance, focusing on my core and watching myself in the mirror.
my sight flickers to Quinn, a smile on his face as he watches me dance, and for a moment i feel so proud of myself. but then my sights set on the boy beside him.
fluffy dirty blond hair mussed atop of his head, beauty marks dotting across his soft features, and beautiful blue eyes that watch my figure. he’s the prettiest boy i’ve ever seen.
i stutter in my steps, suddenly nervous and self conscious in front of the unfamiliar face, and before i can fix my form, i buckle under his stare; missing a step before my ankle twists, a sharp tinge of pain shooting up my leg as i stumble back down onto flat feet.
“shit.” i whimper, my facial features contorting in pain as i flex my ankle, gauging my pain level.
“are you okay?” Quinn stammers, eyes wide in concern, “what happened?”
“i’m fine,” i sigh. walking over to my bag, i pull my flats out and sit on the chair, beginning the process of taking off my pointe shoes, “i just got a little distracted.”
“distracted?” Quinn repeats, confusion plaguing his features before he looks back at his company, his lips quirking into a smirk, “y/n, this is my brother, Jack. Jack, this is y/n.”
my face heats under the heavy gaze of Jack’s blue eyes, his shoes tapping against the floor as he steps forward, extending a hand in front of me.
“hi.”
he smiles and it’s as though the whole world slowed, as though the universe was saying ‘look. look at him. perfection personified amidst your very eyes.’
“hi, it’s nice to meet you.” my hand slips into his, shaking lightly before i pull away, distracting myself by continuing my endeavors of changing my shoes.
Quinn and Jack share whispered huffs, mumbled words between the two of them as i slip my flats on, shoving my points shoes in my bag.
i stand now, removing my tutu and holding it carefully, leaving me in only my tights and leotard.
“i’m ready.” they both look over at me, Quinn nodding in acknowledgment before he turns and wordlessly begins walking out, leaving his brother and i to fall in line behind him.
“so how did you guys meet?” Jack asks me as we step out of the private room, his voice hushed.
“i go watch the development program practices a lot, Quinn saw me walking home and offered me a ride.”
“you like hockey?” he raises a brow as he looks over at me with a bright grin.
“mhm.” i hum, “i’ve watched it my whole life. my dad is a red wings fan.”
we exit the building, following Quinn to his car.
“good team.” Jack replies, his voice far off, eyes staring ahead as though deep in thought; and i assume that’s the end of our conversation until he speaks again, “i liked your dance. pretty.”
blood rushes to the apples of my cheeks and i bite my lip to hold back a smile, “thanks.”
i pull open the car door as Quinn unlocks it, climbing into the back seat so that Jack can sit up front with his brother. but i’m surprised when he joins me in the back, earning a look from Quinn.
it’s silent as Quinn starts the car, pulling out from the parking space and out of the lot.
“so,” Jack starts, gaining my attention once more, “you dance and you like hockey, what else should i know about you?”
i ponder the question for a moment before i look over at him, “there’s not much to tell. i’m an only child, i like taylor swift, i don’t know.”
“well what do you and your friends do for fun? do you wanna be a ballerina when you graduate?” he turns towards me, letting me know i have his full attention.
“i only have one friend.” i shrug, “Quinn. and he and i usually just hang out at his billet house or at the rink. he’s been teaching me to skate.
“as for the ballerina thing, i don’t think so. i love dancing, but i don’t want it to be my life.”
Jack hums, nodding his head in thought before his lips part again, “give me your phone.”
“what?”
“gimme your phone.” he makes a grabby hand, waiting for me to pull my phone out of my bag before i set it in his palm.
he turns it on, getting in easily with my lack of password, and quickly types something before handing it back.
“two.” he smirks.
“what?” my face punches in confusion.
“you have two friends now.” i look down at my phone, a new contact open with his number inputted in.
“okay.” i smile, not quite sure how to react to this gorgeous boy wanting to be my friend. it’s a new feeling that i’m not quite used to.
the car is silent as we pull onto Quinn and i’s street, but if i remember correctly, he’s staying at a hotel with his dad for the next couple of days.
“hey, twinkle toes.” Quinn calls out from the drivers seat.
“yeah?”
“you still coming to the game tomorrow?”
“i plan on it.” i tell him.
“alright, you’ll be sitting with my dad and Jack.” he informs me, “Jack, you good to wait for her at the entrance to take her to your guys’ seats?”
Quinn stops in front of my house, unlocking the doors.
“yeah, sure.” Jack confirms, watching as i exit the vehicle, “i’ll see you tomorrow.”
“see you tomorrow!” i smile. i shut the door, Quinn’s window rolling down as he calls out a goodbye, “bye, snuggles!”
i can hear Jack snort out a laugh as i walk away, a wheezed echo of “snuggles?!” coming from the back seat.
“shut it, Rowdy.” Quinn grumbles, rolling up his window before peeling away.
***
thirty minutes.
i spent thirty long minutes picking out my outfit for tonight. when i originally said i would go to Quinn’s game, i had just planned on wearing a USA Hockey sweatshirt and some leggings; but now that i’ve met Jack and know i’ll be with him? i refused to dress down so much.
descending the stairs of my house, my mother peers over the back of the couch, her hair in a tight bun and her laptop in her lap, slaving over a law case with files piled beside her.
“what are you so dressed up for?” she inquires, her glasses sitting low on the bridge of her nose.
“i have Quinn’s game tonight.” i walk around the couch to stand in front of her, my nikes shuffling along the area rug.
“i’m so proud of you.” she smiles, and for a moment i’m left to ponder where this could go, “you’re finally taking a care to how you present yourself.”
and there it is; the subtle jab. it can never be a real compliment, there’s always gonna be the underlying insult muddled in somewhere.
“are you going with friends?” she questions, her focus falling back on the open computer screen in her lap.
“kinda?” i’m not quite sure what to call Jack, he said we’re friends, but we also don’t actually know each other.
“kinda?” my mother echoes in wonder, looking back up at me as i wander into the kitchen to retrieve a water bottle.
“yeah. i met Quinn’s brother yesterday, the one a year older than me?” i start, “i’m sitting with him and their dad at the game. i don’t think i would call us friends really, but we exchanged numbers yesterday.”
my mother sighs, pushing her glasses atop of her head in order to pinch the bridge of her nose.
“does this boy play that brutal game too?”
my mind wanders back to what Quinn has told me about his family in the past, “yeah, they all do.”
“oh y/n, don’t get too wrapped up in these boys. they won’t do you any good.” she tells me, “find a nice boy, one who wants to do something substantial with his life.”
“we’re just friends, mom. it’s not like anything is gonna happen.”
“but you want it to.” she narrows her eyes, waving her finger towards me, “i can see it. mother’s intuition. don’t fall for this boy.”
who is she to tell me who i should fall for? she and dad barely even speak anymore. i wouldn’t even call what they have, love.
“it’s just going to a hockey game, mom. their dad is gonna be there too.” i sigh, “i gotta go.”
“how are you getting there?” she asks, “are they picking you up?”
“no,” i shake my head, “dad said he would drive me.”
her brows furrow, “your dad had to go into work.”
i gape at her, a blank look covering my face. i shouldn’t be shocked, this happens all the time. it’s the same reason i walk home from ballet, or why i’ve come to rely on Quinn to pick me up for school. but somehow, it still always feels like a cut to the heart.
my mother sighs, shutting her laptop and rising from her seat, “i’ll drive you. come on.”
“you would think he would try and spend more time with you. but it’s always work with that one. work then family.” she mutters, ranting to herself as she slips her shoes on, grabbing her keys from the dish on the entryway table.
i fall in line slowly behind her, dreading this car ride already; because it appears it’s one of those days. the days where my mother will do anything to appear better in my eyes than my father. including talking down about him to me in hopes to make me more upset with him than i already am.
and i was correct. the entire drive was spent with me sitting silently in the passengers seat, watching my surroundings pass by as she went on and on about all of the things my father has done wrong in the past week.
i couldn’t get out of the car quick enough, nearly breaking the car door off its hinges as i throw it open. calling out a goodbye to my mother and assuring her that yes, Quinn would be driving me home afterwards, i slam the door shut and jog towards the arena entrance.
slowing down upon the sight of the glass doors, my body lights up, butterflies flutter in my stomach as i spot Jack in the lobby just through the doors. he wears jeans and a gray hoodie, converse tied to his feet, and he looks down at his phone, glancing up every few moments.
when his eyes land on me through the clear glass, a friendly smile spreads across his lips, slipping his phone into his pocket and taking a few steps towards the door, propping it open for me.
“hey!” he chimes as i reach the entrance, “puck should drop soon! i was gonna text you to check in but, i didn’t wanna push anything.”
my heart rate picks up, my cheeks burning at the idea of seeing Jack’s name pop up on my phone, “you can text me any time.”
Jack’s smile drops into a smirk, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and amusement, “i’ll keep that in mind.”
“our seats are this way.” Jack begins pushing through the lingering people in our way, many not paying any attention to the people in their way as they try and navigate towards their own seats.
for a second, i’m pushed away from him, worry flooding my mind as i think of how i’ll try and find our seats if i lose him. but then he looks back at me, his eyes finding mine, and he must see the anxiety that fills my body, because it’s not a moment later that his hand finds mine.
his hand slips into mine, interlacing our fingers as he gently tugs me closer to him as he walks, a reassuring quirk to his lips, “i got you. it’s okay.”
and somehow, all my worry melts away, just like that. for some reason, i feel like he’s telling the truth; it’ll be okay.
there’s something about Jack’s presence that calms my nerves. that makes me feel okay. and it sounds utterly insane because i’ve known him for all of twenty-four hours, but i feel like can truly trust him.
as we reach our seats, Jack sitting next to his dad with me beside him, he still never lets go of me. instead, he rests our hands on his thigh, glancing over at me to gauge my reaction before he speaks.
“you okay?”
and finally, for once, i’m telling the truth, “yeah.”
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reiderwriter · 2 months
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My Love Is Mine All Mine
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Week 2 of my Playlist series 🎧💕
Summary: Spencer Reid always liked broken things, but you didn't think you could be fixed. Maybe all you needed was understanding and companionship.
Warnings: slight angst, case details mentioned - misogyny, kidnapping, etc, but no graphic/ explicit details. Hurt/Comfort.
A/N: Tumblr, please let me post haha I've been good, I promise 🙏 This fic is so late because I've been having some technical issues with tumblr and it has greatly annoyed me, so hopefully if you're seeing this it's been fixed? Who knows... Thank you to everyone who has sent in songs so far for the Playlist series, I'll be cresting the playlist today and posting it for everyone to see and use!
Masterlist || Series Playlist
Falling for Spencer Reid wasn't in your plan for the new year, but looking back, it was probably something that was just bound to happen. 
He'd been the first person to show you any kindness after everything you went through, the first person who hadn't put their own rigid horror at your past before their attempts at sympathy. 
You watched the way people recoiled from you as you told them - bluntly, you had to be blunt - what the man in the cabin had done to you. 
He listened to your words, didn't interrupt, didn't quietly shake in anger, and refuse to meet your eyes like your father did, didn't weep for her baby like your mother did. He took your hand as it shook. He held your gaze. 
It was his job to ask questions, but there weren't many left to answer. 
The only reason you were alive was because his team had tracked the string of bodies to your kidnappers home. You were alive because one of his coworkers had put a bullet through his head, ending your nightmare. 
The very idea of love was repulsive to you as you emerged from that basement in the first days of the next year, and you remembered thinking the snow looked fresh and soft. You remembered wanting to lay in it, to wrap it around yourself like a warm blanket and drift into sleep. The cold ground would be as much comfort as you would allow yourself. 
Because after everything, you knew you didn't deserve love. 
You accepted understanding from him, though. 
When the shock wore off, you were awash in all the misery inflicted upon you. You raged, kicked, screamed, broke things, and made people uncomfortable. Nothing would numb the pain of being trapped inside your head, your head still trapped inside that basement, that cage. 
He came to visit you at the hospital. The nurses had given up on you, were content you were physically healing, and that they had technically done their job but not bothered by your deteriorating mental state. Some days, you swore that they pierced your skin in the wrong places purposefully, not even searching for your vein. 
But then he was there, with a book and a chess board, and he'd asked you if you'd ever played before. 
“No. Chess always seemed too…” You swallowed the bile that drowned your lungs and tried again. “Before, it was boring. An old person game, too many rules. Now… He said we shouldn't do things like this. Said we shouldn't cultivate our minds.” 
It was a confession again, but one that took a weight off your shoulders, and not one that pushed it further down. 
“Would you like to learn?” His tone was so soft and awkward, like a teenage boy asking a girl out on a first date, that you almost giggled. 
“I'll be honest and say you'll never beat me, I've played through most board combinations, including a large proportion of the 10^80 theorised checkmate positions, so if you'd rather do something else, that's fine, or I can leave, too, if… you'd… prefer?” 
You had laughed then, a thing that bubbled up from the pit of your stomach and left your shoulders shaking as you gasped for breath doubled over. 
You'd been in hell for six months, and he'd drawn you out of it for a few moments by rambling about chess. 
“Are you a patient person, Doctor Reid?” 
“I think so.”
“Then set up the board and let's play.” 
He beat you every time, obviously, but you enjoyed his small explanations of the moves, and you did improve slightly. 
More than that, you enjoyed his company. It wasn't that you talked extensively In your hospital room, oscillating between your lowest point and somewhere just a rung above that where the snow was falling and the air was fresh, but that he never looked at you the way others did. 
You were discharged and were sad to lose that small glimmer of normality. He'd come twice a week throughout January, and now you were back in your usual shape. You were being discharged, and so that would end. 
You were surprised that he came to pick you up from the hospital the day you left. 
The parents who had looked everywhere for you for half a year hadn't wanted to, and the close friends from before hadn't spared you a thought since reposting your missing poster on their social media pages. 
But the man you played chess with twice a week, the man who'd carried you out of hell himself was there. 
“Ready to go?” You nodded, dumbstruck, and followed as he grabbed your bag. 
You weren't exactly sure where it was you were going, but you followed the man anyway, only a small part of your brain shouting in protest considering the last time you'd been blindly trusting.
He led you back to an apartment with some bare furnishings but a large window and a warm soft blanket covering the bed. It wasn't his, but yours. 
“Your parents are paying for it. They're taking the city to court due to the circumstances. Apparently, there were numerous phone calls to law enforcement that went unnoticed, but the city is looking to settle, so you don't have to worry about rent for a while, maybe ever again. The WiFi is all set up, hot water is working, and so is the heating. The locks are triple enforced, and I'm right down the hall, so if you need-” 
“What?” 
He blinked at you and suddenly, looking sheepish, as if becoming aware that he'd presumed a friendship between the two of you without consulting you first. 
“I live down the hall.” 
You stared at each other for a few moments as you processed his words. He lived down the hall. He'd driven you to your new home, set everything up for you, and he lived down the hall. 
“You're a good man, Spencer Reid.” You whispered, turning away to not let the moment linger anymore than it already had. 
Chess nights became routine. You'd set up the board and play for an hour or two or until you were sick of losing. 
Gradually, though, the nights got longer. He'd arrive just as you were eating a meal, and you'd invite him to join you, or he'd bring along takeaway and you'd eat quietly together, talking about everything and nothing.  
One day, you'd mentioned a film. A popular one, one you'd loved as a child and still rewatched to this day. 
“I've never seen it, is it good?” He'd said. And in your shock, you jumped up and sent half the chessboard flying. 
“Well, it seems that now our game is over, that we have time to give you an education, Doctor Reid.” 
“I have three PhD's-” 
“And still you haven't seen Clueless?” 
You'd pulled him over to the couch he'd picked out for you, loaded up the movie and then invented a new tradition. 
Chess nights and film nights were separate days of the week. So he could always promise to be around for one of them even if he had to miss the other because of work. 
You didn't ask him about his job anymore. He saved people like you, and you didn't need to be thinking about people like you too much.
What they went through, if they survived physically. If they survived in other ways. 
He always visited you first when he returned, though. There would be a knock on your door at some point in the day or night, and he'd let you know he was home safe. 
Another tradition. You'd opened the door to let him in the first time he'd returned from a case after you moved in, and he'd leaned down and wrapped his arms around you. 
You heard the breath of relief, loud and emotional, and hadn't quite realised it had come from you until a few minutes later. Some part of you had thought he wouldn't come back. 
Now, every time he came home, you ran to the door and quietly comforted each other, reminding the other that no matter what happened, you were both there for each other. 
You weren't sure when traditions and movies turned into love or if it had lingered over you the entire time. You didn't think you could love someone right then, your heart broken into small pieces with the torment you'd suffered. 
But it was stitched back together with pieces of him still lodged inside. He was in the very fabric of your being as you became whole again. 
The truth was that you most likely couldn't find love again because there was no room in your heart for anyone else. And you'd never be able to reschedule chess nights to go on dates anyway. 
You weren't sure if Spencer ever figured out how much of hum you carried around with him, how your eyes followed his lips as he ran through decades of memories to give you the fact he thought would please you the most. You weren't sure if he loved you as much as you did him until you were.
You'd agreed to watch one of his movies for a change, agreeing to stop the streak of 80s brat pack classics to watch a black and white war film from Russia with no subtitles. You'd sat together on that couch under blankets you'd bought together months earlier, and he'd pulled you in closer.
“I want to watch the movie and translate at the same time. You should sit here.” He'd pulled you into his lap, letting your back fall against his chest as his lips fell to your ears, and he began to whisper. 
Sitting there so closely, so intimately, was almost torture. Unconsciously, your head tipped back with his words, displaying your neck and shoulders, silently willing his lips to drift even once. His arms wrapped around your waist, and you did your best not to squirm the entire movie, but with your heart beating out of your chest, it was a hopeless cause. 
“Did you enjoy it?” He whispered as the credits rolled, but you hadn't even noticed the movie had ended. It wasn't until the silence that followed his question stretched out notably that you came back to reality. You couldn't answer, in fact. You gaped for a few short moments, hoping something vague but accurate enough would just pop into your mind. 
As you attempted to negotiate yourself out of distraction, you turned your face to his, but he was closer than you thought.
Your noses touched, and your breaths mingled. His arms still wrapped around your waist, and your blankets still anchored you to one another. 
“I wasn't paying attention to the movie, Spencer. I'm sorry.” The words came out of you so fast, yet so quietly that you were surprised yourself how honest you had chosen to be. 
“Why not?” He asked, eyes having drifted sleepily down to gaze at your lips. 
You didn't answer his question but felt your cheeks flush red. You thought about pulling away, moving back, or at least laughing everything off, but you didn't. You stayed there, still like a deer in headlights. 
“Your voice was too distracting,” You forced some of the tension out of your body and let your head fall against his shoulder again, hoping this moment wouldn't end anytime soon. 
“Distracting?” He sounded concerned and shifted in his seat, lifting you up from your happy place in his arms until you were again face to face. “Did I make you uncomfortable?” 
The look on his face was so concerned and focused that you had to pause for a second to catch your breath. He cared about your comfort so much and paid attention to each word that came out of your mouth. He wanted your happiness more than anything in the world. 
“No. I'm never uncomfortable with you, Spencer.” You were back to whispering now, hands floating up to grab his own, fidgeting by his sides. You bought them up to your face and guided his hands to your cheeks, needing to show him just how comfortable you were with him in actions, not just words. Words could be dishonest. Actions were honest. 
His concern melted away as he began stroking your cheek with his thumb, smiling sweetly at you. 
Though you were both content, you'd never been quite this intimate before. So when his thumb swiped over the corner of your lips, your eyes both caught on each other. You could see him weighing up the outcomes in his head, going back and forth between pulling away and pushing in closer.
Slowly and softly, as though he were trying not to startle you, his head moved closer until his lips were on yours. 
It was a quiet kiss. You wouldn't describe it as fireworks, or butterflies, or anything loud and grand and passionate. It was quiet, and it was right. 
He pulled away seconds later, trying to gauge your reaction, but you followed him away and kissed him again. 
When you finally pulled away, it took you a few seconds to realise you'd climbed back into his lap, unconsciously having moved closer to him. You guiltily looked up, waiting to see any discomfort on his features, but to your surprise, he was busy straightening out your hair. 
“I love you, Spencer,” you whispered as he took care of you. He smiled, looking down at you once again, pulling his arms around you to gently lower both of you down to a laying position on your couch. 
“I love you, too,” he said as you held each other and drifted into contented sleep.
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mintmatcha · 5 months
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MONSTER FUCKING
Fandom: Dungeons and Dragons
The night continues with Obsidian.
cw: cisfem reader, feminine nicknames, female receiving oral, OC x reader, monster fucking, a TINY BIT OF DUBCON, overstimulation
PART TWO OF TWO (Part one: here)
a/n: again, big thanks to @saetyrn9 and @tyga-lily <3
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He doesn’t return until the fire is burnt low, nothing but embers. His figure is nothing but a silhouette against the hall light as he creeps, doing his best to move silently around the room. His dirty clothes are replaced by the sheerest of shirts and pants, thin enough that even in the low light you can see how his scales shimmer in hue, purple and green where the firelight touches. Every now and again he throws a glance towards you, tucked neatly on your side of the bed, and then sighs, low and forlorn. 
It feels wrong to watch him while he thinks you’re asleep. Even alone, he makes his movements so small, crouching to take up little space as he fiddles about, oiling his scales and the other mundane things he has to do before sleep. It hits you that he might be insecure about the space he takes up.
The world is not kind. It is tragedies and maladies, injustice and inhumanities. Tensions are always simmering under the surface, chaos always threatening to boil over. Horrible, awful things plague this world and not a single person is left untouched or unchanged.
Through all of that, Obsidian somehow remained gentle. That’s what you admire most of him- the softness he carries himself with. There’s a bitter edge that clings to you, a callus that won’t come off of your palms. He treats you well anyway, despite it all.
“You never got to ask your questions,” you say, voice only just louder than the last licks of fire.
Obi starts at the sound of your voice, then his shoulders soften. He drags himself to the edge of the bed, hands folded politely in front of him like a scolded child. He smells faintly of lemon and soap: soft, sour, and refreshing.
“Why are you still awake?” he whispers, affection honey sweet in his tone. He reaches to grab your ankle, then hesitates before dropping back to his side. “My curiosities can wait for another day.”
The night air is cool against your cheeks and the sheets are not thick enough. Obi, in all his emotional and physical warmth, is just out of reach. When you extend an arm for him, he doesn't meet you at first, hemming about like a child. It’s goofy, for such a grown man to seem so shy- you have to bite your lip to hold your smile back.  
Instead of waiting for him, you peel back the sheets and crawl to him. It’s impolite and unladylike, but it earns you a smile from him and an outstretched hand. This time, he doesn’t pull away when your fingers loop with his, instead closing tight.
“I’m sorry Kiri said all that.” 
“You don’t have to apologize for her behavior,” he says, eyes never leaving the spot he’s chosen at the end of the bed,  “I heard how you… scolded her.”
The innkeeper had threatened to kick you all out after the way you berated the poor girl, screaming in the hallway in just your nightgown, but the elf had deserved it. She’s barely older than a teenager in elf years, you remind yourself, but that isn’t an excuse for bad behavior.
Tomorrow, when the sun is up and emotions aren’t high, you’re sure the group will discuss it all, but for tonight, you want to tend to Obi’s wounds.
“Was I too harsh?” You trail a thumb across the back of his hand. Knees on the mattress, he’s still much taller than you, able to rest his chin on your head if he wanted. 
“Too harsh? No,” The hint of amusement you’ve come to love is back in his voice, “Too loud? Debatable.” 
Imitating you, he drags his thumb back and forth in comfort, the rounded nail grazing against your skin. Finally, he meets your eye, the green piercing even in the night. The feeling of want is thick, slowing every breath as if your ribs are stuffed with molasses, and all you can think is that you hope he feels this too-- hope he wants this too.“I appreciate you standing up for my honor.”
“Always,” you say. A heat drips into your core as you realize his claws are trimmed and rounded-- just for you.  “Anything for you.”
You rest a hand against his chest and wait in the silence, savoring the luxuriant feelings that fills your throat: want and need and desire and greed and contentment and bliss-- all a muddle you can’t swallow again, filling you, but also leaving you with a hunger that can’t be sated.
“You should rest,” he says as he slides his arms around you, grabbing handfuls of cloth. 
“Ask your questions first.”
Verdant eyes flicker down, marked by his chittering. It’s like a purr, you realize-- a sound of pure contentment. Feline is the way he moves, elegant and fluid.
“Does it really feel good-” His knuckle drags down your chest and hints over the apex of your breast, “When these are touched?”
He hesitates there, a breath away from you, wondering, hoping. The air crackles a bit wilder with magic for a moment- a response to his excitement.
“Obi,” You loop a finger under the strap of your nightgown and guide it off of your shoulder, pushing the neckline dangerously low. “Do you like my tits?”
“You should know that it’s very cheeky to answer my question with a question,” he leans forward and bumps his head against yours, nuzzling ever so slightly The ridges and tiny horns ruffle your hair and all you can do is giggle and squirm into it, bumping your noses together. His touch has wandered dangerously low, cupping under your ass and lifting you into him. 
Then, he sobers, voice lower than ever.
 “Yes.” He takes the satin edge between his fingers and delicately, carefully, lovingly moves the other strap down the other shoulder, guiding it until your breasts fall free. Obi swallows thickly, then runs his tongue across the upper ridge of his teeth as he takes in everything about you. “I like them very much.”
His nose is textured against your skin, grooved yet smooth against your clavicle. Each breath is released so slowly that it blooms with heat, crawling across your chest as he moves down, loving every inch above your breasts. The journey is marked with kisses and nips, the lightest touch of his teeth. The way he reveres the boring parts of you makes your heart flitter and, by the time he’s sucking a bruise into the fat of your tit, your body is trembling for him too.
“I didn’t realize they were so…” Teeth sink into your tit, testing the give. The other is cupped by his wide palm, lifting it into the side of his muzzle.  “Malleable.”
When he opens his jaw again, wider this time, it’s marked with the click and suck of wet. Strands of spit string together for a fleeting moment, following his panting tongue.
Oh, he’s no longer feline. He’s closer to a dog, feral and drooling for you.
The rough edge of his tongue dragging against your nipple rips a gasp from you, but it only serves as a siren’s call. His body presses into yours, folding your legs back and forcing you back into the down of the bed. The sheets crunch under you as you’re moved by the force of the way he indulges. You should scold him or warn him of the way you’ll bruise in the morning, but a heat consumes every aspect of you, robbing you of any thought. The scorch of his mouth, the delicious drip of spit trickling down your ribcage, the ambient heat that’s simply him- it all ignites that pulling, twist, blazing heat in your core, a fever you can’t sweat out.
Obi pulls away just enough to look at you through slitted eyes.
“My fawn,”  he purrs, “Now you are being too loud.”
His hand grips your side hard enough that even the trimmed edge aches.
“People are going to hear you,” he continues,  tongue dragging down the sweat touched valley between your breasts, “They’re going to know you’re being bedded by some beast." 
That makes your stomach flip, then flip again, tying your insides into a sickly knot. Your hands find the ridge of his horns on their own. Their length is surprisingly long for his age, more than enough for you to tug and stop his descent.  Obi glances up at you, giving you the reprieve you need. Both of you lay there, breathing in sync.
"Don’t say things like that," you say once you've caught yourself, "I don't like that. You're not…"
Lemon oil, mixed with the pressing of some sort of shrub nut- that's what he oils his scales with. It makes his skin so soft and makes the air always marked with him. 
"You're not some beast." You rub a thumb down the ridges of his horn, "You're my prince."
 The words feel so corny coming out of your mouth. You're no wordsmith, unlike him, but you can see the statement physically hit. At first, he just slightly draws back, then his eyes go wide before becoming intensely soft. Then, he curls in, tucked his chin and resting his forehead against your collarbone.
"Oh," he says, voice on the brink of laughter, "Oh, my fawn, my princess--"
He squeezes your hips again. "You're going to shatter my heart one day, aren't you?" 
Before you can respond, he's kissing you for real. It's different from anything else you've experienced with humans and elves; his mouth is different, firm lips unable to fully pucker. The feeling is strange, with too much teeth and pressure,but so, so, welcome.
Obi must enjoy it too; he shifts and writhes, finding his place between your awaiting thighs. You can feel how he grinds into the mattress, strokes long and slow and rough, searching for any sort of pressure. You want to touch him again-- no, need to. You need to see his cock for real this time, coax it out of his body for you to ride. 
Another tug on his horns pauses him. 
"Stop, just for a second," you say. He obeys, pulling back fully, and you untangle yourself from him. 
"Are you alright?"  Obi says, a tad dejected, "We can stop-"
You wriggle out of your slip and clumsily push it to the foot of the bed with your feet. A sliver of doubt wrangles its way into your thoughts; even in the dim, you're sure he can see your body and all its imperfections, the scars, the marks, the bits you simply don't like: does he know what to expect? Does he even know what humans look like naked? 
The room is cold without the fire going. You have to remind yourself who the man is on top of you. It’s not some stranger-- it’s Obi. Your Obsidian. A friend, a confidant, a brother in arms, and the kindest soul you’ve even met. It strikes you then that maybe you have feelings for him outside of all of those definitions, something closer to love than simple lust.
"I haven't shaved in a while, I'm sorry-" 
"You have the body of a nymph," Obi blurts out, voice high with surprise, "You're exquisite."
His pupils are fully round, engulfing almost all of the iris as he soaks in the sight of you. 
"Human's do not like this?" He leans down, head just below your belly button, examining when your body meets your cunt. His fingers run through your pubes, "But it's so…"
Mid-sentence he halts, mouth parted just enough that you can catch the jagged edge of his fangs. He swallows deep breaths, sucking more and more until his chest is puffed against yours. Strong, forceful hands loop under your knees and cram your legs apart. You squeal and kick, giddy in your embarrassment and barely able to contain your laughter.
"Oh, you smell so good," he exhales each word, only inches from your cunt. He’s pressing into you, almost folding you in half so he can creep into the bed with you. "That's your quim? That's what you've been hiding?"
He traces two fingers up the clef, admiring it even closer than ever. The rumble in his chest, the purring, is so grand that it shakes your thighs. Like this, strung up and spread apart, you feel so exposed, so vulnerable. You muster up even more embarrassment when fingers part your lips and his steamed breath tickles your most inner parts. 
“Don’t look so closely!” you scold, but he doesn’t listen.
"Humans get so wet." You try to close your knees on instinct, but the mass of his body stops you, "Is this usual? Do you always?"
"Only when-- a-aa-ah-"
You find out that he was not looking for an actual answer. Obi takes you by the hips and drags you down into his muzzle, wasting no item before dragging that damned tongue across the entirety of you. He's eager and unaimed, licking and sucking and drooling across every inch of you except where you want him. The crest of his brow digs into the puff of your mound, blocking you from reaching down and playing with your clit yourself. 
The want, the need-- it's dizzying. Words fail you every time you try to speak, your comprehensibility robbed by the hiccupped whines Obi is pulling from you. Teetering on this edge is deliciously painful, but you're already losing patience.
 Frustrated, you grind your hips down and Obi's nose bumps against your clit. The pressure makes your body sing, so you do it again and again, claiming your pleasure on your terms. A laugh rumbles through your skin as Obi chuckles and obliges, lapping at exactly where you need him too. 
Heat sears through you as you cum: hard. It's almost a surprise, boiling over when you least expect it. It’s a flex and release of your muscles, a quick, simple thing that gives you just enough release. It’s nothing life changing, but it’s better than what you get with most men.
You breathe and wait for Obi to move or comment, but he's still, waiting for you to pick up your pieces. 
"That was nice." You say after a bit, "Now, why don’t you come here and let me ride you?"
Whe he doesn’t respond, you sit up slightly, only to be caught. A hand presses down on your stomach and locks you in place against the mattress. Dark eyes glance up at you, narrowed. 
 "Stay still," he says, voice rougher than ever, "I can do better than simply 'nice.'"
Immediately, you regret teaching Obi where you liked to be licked. He abuses that knowledge, focusing on your poor, overstimulated clit until you're nothing but whimpers. Your brain cant think when he's touching you; all you can do is whine. Reaching and grasping for hair that isn't there, your nails run across his scales head and find no purchase.
Then, your own head is tapped by… something. You screw back and realize he's ran you into the fucking wall; you have to extend both hands to stop yourself from being crumpled even further. 
"Shit, shit, shit, shit--" This one's going to be big. You can feel it rolling in, coming like a wave.
Two thick fingers press inside you. If you weren't impossibly slick, the stretch would ache, but there's no friction left to resist the intrusion. He explores a bit, pumping and curling and-- there. That's all you need to tumble again, falling and falling and falling-
Until the drop hits. 
You're left boneless. There's no resistance in your body as he adjusts you again, throwing your knees over his shoulders-
"Obsidian, no," You drum your heels against his back,  "No, no, no, no, I can't take another--"
A deep, rolling growl fills the room as he squeezes tighter, locking you together as his long, firm tongue presses inside of you. You realize he’s speaking an unfamiliar tongue-- Draconic, most likely. It’s sultry tones and clicked vowels, rolling deep and slow into one long slurred sound. Maybe he’s scolding you, maybe it’s praise: you don’t care. He holds you like he owns you-- like he controls you, and you find that you like that.
“Please, please, please, just fuck me already-” You find yourself blabbering, “Need you, need it, just-- oh, Gods and Stars-- Please fuck me, please--” 
You clutch on to the mattress and hope the world stops spinning. “On me--- in me, just-- Gods, fucking cum already-”
“No,” Common slips from his mouth,  “Not yet.”
The night is a blur after that. There’s no possible way to count how many times you cum; they all roll into one in your mind, an unstable peak. He’s everywhere, he’s everything. You always imagined him as a patient lover, but you’re quickly proved wrong. He’s mean and demanding, drawing everything from you until the ache in between your ribs grows unbearable.  Slick runs from your thighs to your knees, ruining the cotton beneath you both. The unbearable sounds of wet fill the room, marked by your occasional protests.
You hate him, you think. Maybe you love him. You can’t tell when your brain is absolutely swimming in dopamine. 
“‘m gonna pass out,”  you whine, weakly batting a hand against his forehead. The dragonborn pulls away with a dot of a kiss, finally listening.
“Then do, fawn.” Obi’s chest and face shine with a mixture of your excitement and his spit, “Sleep. That doesn’t bother me.”
With that, he spreads you open again. You eventually do drift off, too overstimulated and absolutely fucked to even keep your eyes open. There has to be something to it. The taste? The smell? Dragonborns are more sensitive to pheromones, you think. Maybe he's high off of you?
No, it’s too focused to be solely for him; it must be for your pleasure. He must get some sort of sick fucking satisfaction from unraveling you down to your very core and then continuing. You feel unwound, a ball of yarn left to uncoil and flounder in the breeze
In the moments of twilight between sleeps, you manage to catch him moving, legs positioned around your rib cage as he whines, voice tight when he speaks. It’s mumbled nothings, ripping through his broken voice. Draconic seems to be paced so much slower than Common, each word rolling carefully slow off of his tongue.
Exhaustion sits so heavy that you can't keep your eyes focused.  You have to keep one eye closed to even get a glimpse of what he's-
Oh. 
Oh. 
Above you, inches away from your face, Obsidian Vyke fists his cock. Contrary to what he said, his body is not very similar to a humans. All of the important parts are there, of course, but the shape is much, much bigger, with a tapered end and ridges running down the bottom. It's an ashen purple, the same color as his skin under his scales, and his balls are a bit darker, hairless and slick with his precum. The head pulses every couple of strokes and you know he's dangerously close to cumming himself.
You want that. You’ve been begging for it this entire night and it’s there, inches from your face. That needs to be inside me, you think, but your poor pussy is twitching and raw from all the attention. 
You settle for the next best thing. 
With all the effort you can muster, you prop yourself up ever so slightly. You stick up your tongue and the pillow of his cock presses against it.  It only takes a couple of kitten licks for him to spill; he crumbles into a whine and your mouth is suddenly painted with thick, potent seed.
It’s… different from other spend you’ve had the displeasure of tasting. Less astringent, more… you’re not sure. When your ex husband used your mouth, you always winced at the taste, but now you close your mouth and suck. His cock doesn’t stop kicking, dribbling more than a man could ever dream of producing. It’s hot enough that you flinch with it touches the back of your throat, but you don’t stop swallowing, draining it down as fast as you can.
The taste was enjoyable, you realize. You liked that, as if you were a common whore. Before any sort of shame can set in, Obi scrambles away, cooing and stroking the side of your face with his usual warmth.
“Oh, sweet fawn, you didn’t have to,” he says, “Let me get you something to spit that into.” 
You shake your head and open your mouth again, tongue extended to show him it’s already gone. 
"Little minx." Obi speaks with a wild amount of warmth and you bathe in it, letting your eyes close again. "Beautiful, dirty thing.”
There’s no way you’re beautiful now, with your makeup smeared and your hair ruined, but you choose to believe him. The swipe of a tongue against your cheek, comforting, not erotic, elicits a giggle from you. Gods, it hurts to even laugh.
“You’re dripping in sweat. I’m going to steal a towel to clean you up with, alright?” Obi pauses, presumably waiting for your approval, before hurrying about. You can make out the slip of fabric being pulled up, the creak of floorboards, the-
Sleep overtakes you.
The sun is much, much higher than you’d like it to be when you awake. The town is in full force, boys screaming the news, merchants peddling their wares, but you can’t seem to find the energy to join them. Not when the bed is so warm and welcome.
Obi is gone. He’s always been an early riser, so that doesn’t bother you much. Besides, you aren’t sure you want him seeing you like this, knock-kneed and drained as you try to gather yourself together. Down there is unbearably slick still, even after all the time that's passed, and that fills you with a sick excitement. 
It’s not until after your bath that you feel remotely human again. The glitter and lust of last night begins to fade as you strap yourself into your clothes, but a relaxed giddiness still hangs on.
By the time you meander downstairs, the inn is busy serving lunch. The air is tinged with salt and spices-- the familiar kind you haven’t smelt in ages, let alone tasted. Familiar faces are crowded into one of the smaller booths, Obsidian’s comically large shoulders bumping against his two elf companion’s. Tensions have clearly calmed since last night. The elf is busy spooning bits of vegetables out of her stew and plopping them into the dragonborn’s.
“You must take my carrots. I know how you like them,” she demands, “And I’ll have your rabbit, since you don’t eat meat. Does that sound good to you, sorcerer?”
Obsidian is already obliging, cornering the bits he doesn’t want out of the bowl. “If that’s what you want.” 
"You'll take this bread too. I grabbed an extra for you."
"Oi, you didn't grab any extra for me."
"The Sorcerer probably weighs fifty times what you do, he needs more."
Obsidian pats his stomach with concern. "Fifty times?"
“She awakes!”  Tig, Kiri’s lover, croons, head in their hands as they notice you. They are just as lean and beautiful as Kiri is, but painted much, much fairer. “We feared you dead, Rogue!”
“Aye, both of you act as if I would leave her rotting,” Obi bemoans. Both elves turn to the poor man and coo, patting his shoulder comfortingly. Your speech clearly had some effect on the group and that deepens your giddy feeling.
“Did you bathe again?”  Kiri hands her bread over to the dragonborn as promised, “I thought you had done so last night.”
You glance over at your… lover? Friend? You aren’t sure. He watches back, brow quirked, waiting for you to lead this dance.
“Just taking advantage of the water,” You reply as evenly as you can, taking the empty seat. Your relationship news to be figured out before you make it public knowledge, especially since your last relationship ended with such…
The dragonborn slides a roll across the table with a crinkle of his eyes, sparing you a train of thought you’re not emotionally ready for. It steams as you rip into it and cram it into your mouth. Hunger suddenly rips through your body and you perk up, searching for the source of this stew.
“Did you sleep well?” Tig asks between mouthfuls. They aren’t as proper as Kiri; they spread their legs wide and take up as much space as they can, holding their utensils like a shovel. If they weren’t so ethereal and genderless, you’d think that they were a half elf.
“Hopefully I didn’t keep you up,” Obi says, offhandedly, “I’d hate to think I kept you awake.”
Oh, that rascal.  His nose scrunches as he tries not to laugh.
“You bothered me a bit,” you reply, equally placid, “But I don’t mind.”
“What a shame.” He takes a spoonful of the meal and chews it thoughtfully. Then, he pauses, pressing two fingers into the crook of his jaw. “I must have sleep strangely because I woke with this awful ache in my jaw-”
A swift kick to the shin silences him.
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todomochi-uwu · 4 months
Text
Who. (3/?) J. Y & S. M
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Pairing: Poly! Jeong Yunho x reader x Song Mingi
Genre: Angst, Smut
Warnings: This content is for a mature audience
Synopsis: You can't remember when was the last time you spent time with them, the last "I love you", the last time any of them kissed you.
Other chapters: Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5
If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee ☕
“You remember the day we met?”
“How can I not? You were always running after me every chance you had.”
“Hey! I wanted to be your friend; I was a lonely child.”
Yunho and Mingi met when they were just children, on the playground, next to the swings. The younger one had been sitting on one of them, swinging his feet and looking at the ground, occasionally looking at the other children, wanting to play with them, but being too shy to ask. He had been there for a long time, until one of them pushed him off the swing, making him scratch the palm of his hands and the top of his knees on the ground, small teardrops started falling down his eyes, between the pain and the humiliation. He wanted to run back home and hide in his room until a small hand appeared in front of him.
“Are you okay?”
Mingi took the other boy’s hand, picking himself up and dusting his clothes off. “Yeah, thank you.”
The kid frowned, looking down at his scratched skin, “You are bleeding, come, my mom will clean you up.” He interlaced their fingers and made Mingi follow him.
And that’s how everything started. Mingi felt as if he owed Yunho for his kindness, so when he found out they went to the same school he made it his mission to follow him around everywhere he went, and while at first the older boy had thought it was a bit weird to have someone always on his tail, he quickly grew accustomed to it. They became a unit, there wasn’t one without the other, same group of friends, same schools, same everything; from children to hormonal teenagers, to young adults, and finally adults.
Yunho can’t remember when he started feeling the way he felt about Mingi, he just suddenly realised that the boy who had been next to him every day for the last twelve years made his cheeks turn red; that he would often find himself staring at him for long periods of times, admiring how much his features had changed from when they were children. He had lost all the baby fat in his face, a slimmer and sharper jawline, his piercing eyes had lost that innocent shimmer and now made his knees grow weak, and how pink and plump his lips were. Yunho wanted to die every day, knowing it wasn’t normal to think that way about his best friend, or any boy at all; crying himself to sleep wishing to wake up “normal”, luckily for him, his mom was a saint, and when she noticed her son’s feelings, she let him know that what he was feeling was completely okay and she would support him no matter what.
What he didn’t know was that Mingi was right in the same sport as he was. He had noticed the way his heart skipped a bit every time Yunho looked his way, how puffy his cheeks were and how the way he laughed made him look like a puppy, how nice his fingers looked when he was typing across the keyboard. He was in trouble, he feared rejection, he feared getting heartbroken, but amongst everything, he feared losing Yunho.
Funnily enough, all it took for their love to blossom was a shot of vodka and a game of spin the bottle, Yunho now cringes at the thought that their first kiss was drunk in front of their friends; Mingi finds it sweet—first kiss, first love, first everything. Mingi remembers Yunho’s face the first time they made love, his puffy cheeks reddening up, lips parted and small gasps left his throat, his lips swollen from making out; he looked ethereal. He remembers the way his boyfriend had been so gentle, so patient with him. Yunho remembers the way Mingi whispered sweet words of affirmation in his ear, telling him how much he loved him, and how good everything felt. And while the first may have been somewhat awkward, both truly inexperienced and nervous, it was a memory they were both fond of.
“You remember how you told me you loved me the first time?” Mingi giggled, laying his head on Yunho’s shoulder, leaning further down on the couch outside their apartment’s balcony. They were looking at the stars trying to distract themselves, feeling too anxious to do anything else.
“Oh god, please don’t remind me. I was such a fucking idiot.” He facepalmed himself, feeling the cringe cover his body.
“You came up to my house with a bouquet of lilies you stole from your neighbour’s garden, banged on my door, and when I opened the door, you just screamed, “Do you like me back?” No, I like you. No, do you want to be my boyfriend? No. Just, do you like me back?”
“I’m sorry, I was a little bisexual closeted teenager trying to confess to his best friend, I didn’t know there was formal etiquette to asking you out.”
Mingi let out another small laugh, taking Yunho’s face between his hands and leaned up for a kiss. Slow, gentle, full of love, just like how all of their relationship had been, until recently. They stayed silent for a little while, lost in their thoughts.
“Do you remember the day we met her?”
College days were blurred memories for both boys; too busy with law and med school, always stressed, always horny and always sleepy. That week Wooyoung had invited the couple to a party at his house, it had been the first time in months they had the time to have fun, so they eagerly accepted. The first task that night was getting drunk off their minds, the next one was to dance and chat all they could and the last one was to go back to the apartment and fuck each other's brains out, it sounded like a good plan. Only one thing got in their way, you.
Mingi had been sitting down on the armrest of an old and crusty couch, sipping on something someone had told him was “jungle juice”, a beverage that tasted like ass, but was getting him tipsy, so that was fine by him. He was looking around, trying to find his boyfriend in the crowd, when his eyes came across a view that had him questioning if what was before his eyes was real, or if he was just starting to hallucinate from the drink.
“Hey, Mingi! Haven't seen you in a while, where have you been, man?” Han side hugged me, and Mingi tried to focus on what he was saying, but he just couldn’t, not when you were right there. He prayed on the back of his head that you weren’t dating Jisung, “Oh, right, I'm sorry, babe. Y/n, this my friend Mingi. Mingi, this is Y/n.” He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, blood drowning the inside of his cheeks and air escaping his lungs, how does one talk again?
“Hi.” You smiled at him. He was done.
It would be a lie to say you were not feeling the same. The pain Chan had been leaving in your heart for the past months went away in a second, the weight being lifted off your shoulders. Jisung had pitied you the second he noticed the way you were looking at his friend, he didn’t know how to bring up the fact that Mingi wasn’t single, of course, that was until he saw he was looking at you the same way. Surprised and confused, he decided to excuse himself, not wanting to get involved in the potential mess.
You guys went outside, claiming the noise was overwhelming you, it was there where a tall figure crossed your way, going directly to your new friend. “Hey, baby.” The new stranger said, while leaning down and doing the same thing you’ve been wanting to do all night, Mingi kissed him back.
“Hi, love. I tried looking for you, but couldn’t find you.”
“I had to come outside, Seonghwa and San were becoming too much, and I'm tired. Do you want to leave?”
You stared at the ground, feeling your heart fall to your stomach, Of course, you had gone out to forget about one guy and another one had crushed you.
“Yunho, this is Y/n. Y/n this is my boyfriend, Yunho.”
Boyfriend, great. You never even had a chance.
You looked up, ready to say hello and get the hell out of there, but you made eye contact with him, and all of a sudden everything turned even more confusing in your head. Yunho’s eyes widened the second they saw yours, his heart stopped, and the spit in his throat made him choke. Easy to say, Mingi and Yunho didn’t leave that party as they planned, they spent hours and hours with you, getting to know you, making you laugh, flirt with you… Jisung had come back, ready to leave when the scene in front of him had completely startled him. There you were, in between the two men, one of them devouring your mouth like there was no tomorrow while the other one groped your hips and sucked on your neck. Han is a good friend because even though he wanted to leave after fighting with Minho, he decided to wait for you, wanting you to have a good time and forget about Chan, so he spent the next hours going and coming back to see if you were done. Finally, you were done and gone with two new numbers on your phone and the promise of a date the next day.
“I was so scared that night,” Yunho confessed for the first time.
Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed, “why?”
“Well, yeah we both made out with her that night, but I knew I liked her the second I saw her, I wanted something more, but I didn’t want to lose you, and I didn’t even know how that would work.”
“We acted as if we knew what the hell we were doing, like some experts in polyamorous relationships.” The lawyer grinned, “I was also worried she would wake up the next morning and completely forget about us, or just see us as a one-time thing.”
Both smiled at the idea that that didn’t happen, but it turned sour the second they remembered that while they had managed to get you, they had also managed to lose you.
“I miss her, Min.”
“Don’t worry, Yuyu. We’ll bring her back home, I promise.” He wanted to reassure his partner, but the same he was nervous, could they?
____________________________________________
“Oh my god, Chan! I’m so happy for you.” You threw your hands around him, shaking him around excitedly.
“It's not that big of a deal, Y/n.” His cheeks turned red.
“It’s not a big deal? Chan, you finally got that promotion you’ve been waiting for years, this is huge!” You jumped around, making Chan laugh, “We have to celebrate, let's go out tonight, I’ll call Jisung.” She skipped to her room, not waiting for Chan’s answer.
You always made him special, like everything he did was amazing, and his heart couldn’t help but feel warm and heavy in his chest. It had been a little bit more than two and a half months since you had appeared on his doorstep, and his head had been going to the same place again and again the last few days, would it be okay if he tried anything? He didn’t expect you to answer right away or to even like him back, but he could still hope. He had noticed that in the last weeks, you had stopped crying, you stopped looking at your phone every five minutes or at every notification that popped up, and you stopped mentioning them all together, could you be moving on? This and more questions circled his head as he finished getting ready, he had taken a shower and chosen an outfit that didn’t consist of an oversized hoodie and baggy shorts; he needed all the luck and advantage he could get. He was wearing his favourite black combat boots, some black ripped skinny jeans, the ones that hugged his legs and ass just right (according to Changbin), a black crop top that Han had gifted him, claiming “it was a crime the world had never seen his abs in one of those”, but he had never worn it due to being too shy, a jean jacket and a bunch of black and silver jewellery adorning his hands, wrists, ears and neck, his hair straighten and slicked back, opposed to his usual messy curls.
He had just come out of his room, when you ran into him, “Jesus Christ, Chan, you look so good.” Your eyes were everywhere on his body, but his eyes. Chris couldn't help but feel a bust of confidence.
“You don’t look half bad.” You were wearing a tight black leather skirt with a blue spaghetti strap lace top (it was Mingi’s favourite outfit on you, it gave you confidence, and made you feel good about yourself, but Chan didn’t have to know that), on your neck was his favourite necklace, the one he had been wearing and had left on the bathroom counter, right before taking a shower and you had found. “You are wearing my necklace.” He gulped, and he scolded himself in his head, why was he acting like a hormonal teenager all of a sudden? You did weird things to his head.
“Oh yeah, I was going to give it to you, but it looked good with my outfit, I hope you don’t mind.” You batted your eyes at him, trying to look cute so he didn’t make you take the jewellery off.
His mouth dried up. Fuck, Chris, get it together, he thought. “I don’t, it’s okay.”
You smiled brightly at him, “I’m ready, I’ll just go and put my shoes on. Can you go get Jisung meanwhile?”
He nodded and turned around, hyping himself up the entire way to your friend’s apartment.
____________________________________________
“You said she would be here, Minho,” Yunho said, they were standing in front of Chan’s door.
“I didn’t know they were going out tonight, calm down Jeong.”
“Jisung didn’t tell you he was going out with them?”
Minho sighed, exasperated with the couple, “I forgot, okay? Besides now you know where she is, you can come back another time and…” Mingi was quick to cut him off.
“No, I'm not leaving until I see her. I've been going crazy for months and I’m not going without talking to her.” He sat down on the floor, next to the door, “I'm waiting here until they come back.”
Minho looked at him in disbelief, “You can not stay there, they’ll be gone for hours, and you might freak out some of the neighbours.
Mingi simply shrugged, looking down at the floor.
Minho turned to look at Yunho, wanting him to do something about his partner, but he was already sitting down next to him. “You cannot be serious.”
“We are not leaving until we see her. End of story.”
Minho threw back his head, exhausted and annoyed with their stubbornness, “Suit yourselves.” He disappeared down the hall.
____________________________________________
Han looked at Chan while he looked at her, the memory of their college relationship popped into his head. He remembers consoling you, trying to mend your broken heart as best as he could; he remembered why you ended things, why you moved on, how you did it. He also remembers finding out about Chan’s feelings, that same night Minho went to pick him up after he passed out drunk. He remembered feeling guilty for introducing you to them, for not having a clue Chan reciprocated your feelings.  And tonight, he couldn't help, once again, but feel bad for the producer, if only he had said something, would things be different now?
“I didn't know you still felt that way about her…” Jisung said as he took a sip of his drink.
Chan looked at the floor, and shook his head, “Did Minho tell you?”
“He didn’t have to.”
____________________________________________
Minho couldn’t sleep. He kept turning and tossing in his bed, and no, it wasn’t the lack of his husband next to him, it was the pair of idiots down the hall that crowded his head. He couldn’t help, but feel bad for them, having been in the same situation as them, lost, heartbroken, fearing the uncertainty his relationship had been a few years ago. He wanted to ignore so badly that feeling in his gut, telling him to help them, but he just couldn’t, so he got up from the bed and made his way, once again, down to Chan’s apartment.
There they were, asleep. Mingi was lying on Yunho’s shoulder covering it in drool, while the other one had a look of discomfort on his face, even asleep he could feel how uncomfortable was the wall he was leaning against.
Minho crouched down, shaking his fellow rival doctor by the shoulder, “Jeong, wake up.” He whispered, “Come on, idiot. I don’t have all day.”
Yunho opened his eyes, at first alarmed, but then confused. Y/n wasn’t there, why was he being awoken?
“Be quiet, I'm taking you there, get up.” He got up, ready to walk away, “Hurry up and don’t wake up Mingi. I certainly don’t need two idiots in my car, and I doubt she wants to see you both,”
____________________________________________
Taglist:
@tunaasan @scuzmunkie @jeongwangjessmina @certifiedmoa @tenebrisirae @ddaeing @bratty-tingz @myshadowsbackstage @berryfiavoured @jkookiejiminlvr @yunsara @soobiverse @kyeos4ng @asjkdk @popcatx0
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alwaysmoncheri · 21 days
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hi!! I love your drabble about hotch and the monster under the bed! I had this idea and I wanted to share if you want to write it, but no worries if not. Years later reader and hotch's daughter is a teenager, hotch/reader wake up because they hear something in the middle of the night coming from daughter's room. An intruder?? Hotch goes to investigate, but the noise was actually daughter sneaking her bf in the window. She makes him hide under the bed when she hears her dad coming. (I thought of the line "you told me to make friends with the monster under the bed!") Maybe hotch notices her window is open or something and is suspicious. I love girl dad! Hotch. Sorry if this is too specific! 🩵🩵
oh my goodness! i love this sm! thank you for requesting! (never too specific, my darling, no apology necessary)
cw: girl dad!hotch, mom!reader, fem!reader, established relationship, fluff, kissing, minimal swearing, daughter’s name not specified, boyfriend’s name specified, 1.1k
<3
“hey, hey, you have to be quiet,” your teenage daughter's excited yet cautious voice is barely heard from the room next to yours, while hushed shuffling and quiet giggles softly echo through the walls, “sh, shh!” she giggles again, pressing her pointer-finger against her boyfriend’s mouth.
you and hotch know that your daughter has a boyfriend, but you’ve never properly met. she’d rather stick with sneaking him in her window every now and then for the privacy and until she’s comfortable for you and hotch to finally meet him. however, this particular night, they seem to be having a hard time keeping quiet.
from beside you, hotch awakes with a start, ears keen to the whispers through the walls, and eyes momentarily wide with fear with the thought of someone dangerous being in the house. without hesitation he climbs out of bed, his protective instincts high on alert while making his way toward the suspicious voices that echo throughout the house. in the quiet hallway, hotch contemplates grabbing a household weapon, his mind entertaining thoughts of danger. however, as the voices become clearer, recognition dawns on him. one of the voices undeniably your daughter’s and the other, a teenage boy’s.
“i am being quiet,” the teenage boy’s hushed assurance emits through the walls, reaching hotch’s ears, causing his frown to soften as he continues to listen.
“my parents are in the other room,” your daughter responds, nervous of being caught but giddy nonetheless, “i swear, if you get us caught.” she warns, but hotch can practically hear the smile, no doubtly reminiscent of yours, curled on her face.
“they won’t even know i’m here.” the teenage boy reassures her with a smirk reminiscent of hotch’s.
hotch makes his way over to your daughter’s bedroom, his steps quick and quiet in hopes that his presence in the hallway goes unnoticed. before he opens the door he hears a quiet thud and soft voice from the other side. hotch’s lips curve into a gentle smile, already knowing what is happening. when he opens the door, greeted with a nervous grin on your daughter’s face and an open window, all of his suspicions of her boyfriend’s presence are confirmed.
“hi, dad,” your daughter greets, nervously tilting back and forth on her heels with her hands clasps behind her back.
“honey, is there someone else in here?” hotch inquires, his gaze piercing but gentle, a knowing smile teasing at his lips.
a nervous grin adrons your daughter’s face as she tries to divert attention, “there’s no one in here but me, dad.” she replies only for there to be a soft thud coming from underneath her bed. a quiet, “oh, shit,” emits from the hidden figure under your daughter’s bed and her eyes widen momentarily, before quickly composing herself in front of hotch.
“then what was that?” hotch’s questions, crossing his arms and feigning seriousness.
“the monster under my bed?” your daughter responds with a nervous raise in her tone, attempting to weave a tale connecting to the imaginary friend during her childhood.
“oh?” hotch raises an eyebrow, playing into your daughter’s little white lie.
“yeah, you know, you’re the one who told me to make friends with him.” your daughter shrugs, an air of nonchalance in her response, yet a hint of mischief lingers in her eyes as if she knows that hotch sees right through her playful lies.
“and did you ever find out his name?” hotch asks, maintaining the delicate balance between parenting and understanding.
“james.”
“well, does james make you happy, sweetheart?” hotch asks, his voice softening.
“yeah,” your daughter admits, her smile betraying the joy in her heart, “he does.”
“then i think james is perfect for you.” hotch concludes, embracing the realization that your little girl is growing up.
your daughter’s smile widdens and her eyes gleam with happiness and hotch can’t help but see so much of you in her, “i love you, dad.” she says, the sincerity in her words tugging at hotch’s heartstrings.
“i love you, too.” hotch replies as your daughter makes her way over to him in order to hug. they share an embrace full of trust, love, and understanding of the situation, “make good choices.” hotch adds after the two of them pull away, his voice a mix of fatherly concern and pride. you daughter nods, before kissing her dad’s cheek and waiting for him to leave her bedroom.
hotch makes his way back to your shared bedroom, the muffled whispers of your daughter and her boyfriend creating a playful ambiance in the air. as hotch sits on the side of the bed, the night is lit by the glow of the bedside lamp. sensing his return, you’re already awake, and without a word, you silently join him on that side of the bed. your arms envelope him in a comforting embrace, wrapped securly around his shoulders before placing a tender kiss on the side of his neck from behind, the softness of your touch an unspoken reassurance.
“i think i just found our daughter with a boy under her bed.” hotch confesses quietly, leaning into your touch, and eager to hear your reaction.
“what?” you exclaim, a mix of surprise and amusement in your voice.
“yeah, when he bumped his head, she said it was the monster hiding under her bed.” hotch explains, a chuckle escaping his lips.
“oh, she can do better than that.” you reply, laughing softly against hotch’s neck, slowly allowing your arms to slip from his shoulders to hug tightly around his waist.
“yeah… should i have kicked him out?” hotch wonders aloud, seeking your opinion.
“she’s old enough to make her own decisions,” you respond seriously, hugging him a little tighter to show him that you’re there, “you did good, honey.” you add for reassurance.
“i don’t know if i’m ready for this.” hotch admits, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.
“me neither but we face it together, always.” you affirm, your love and support unwavering.
“always.” hotch echos, nodding his head before turning it to kiss you, the tender exchange, unexpected but very much welcome, expressing love that transcends any challenges.
“let’s go back to bed.” you suggest and hotch nods, allowing you to pull him back under the covers and snuggle close to his side.
suddenly, a loud fit of giggles followed by a subsequent shush emits from the room next to you, a soundtrack to the unfolding chapter of parenthood. you and hotch glance at each other from under the covers, knowing smiles plastered across your faces.
“monster under her bed alright.” you remark, the laughter now echoing through the walls of both rooms.
masterlist ❧ aaron hotchner masterlist ❧ taglist
thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!
tags: @ihrtmasong
alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.
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stairs-feooff · 1 year
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An Open Letter to White Emo Kids
When I was thirteen years old, I googled ‘how to be emo.’ The music, the aesthetics, the darkness of it all captivated me. There was transgression there, with boys in makeup and girls who weren’t ashamed to be bisexual. The online emo community on google plus (anyone else remember google plus? Just me?) took me in with open arms. I was allowed to be depressed, I didn’t have to hide my burgeoning sexuality or the starts of my struggle with depression, something I now know was caused by intense amounts of dysphoria and life in an abusive and queerphobic household.
Only, there was one problem. I wasn’t white. 
Certainly, nobody would say they had an issue with me being Latino to my face. Most people in the scene genuinely believed they were not racist. After all, they loved Latino people, they thought the guys in Pierce the Veil were so hot. They appreciated the culture too, sombreros and maracas were the full extent of Mexican culture, right? 
But to be emo, you had to be pale. I remember Onision saying that Black people couldn’t pull off emo, and while everyone I knew talked about how horrible he was for saying that, they all secretly believed it. The emo kids I knew stayed out of the sun, they wore long sleeves to stay whiter and some on the more goth side carried around parasols. It was just part of the gothic, to stay white and dead looking. I hid myself from the sun, my skin tanned quickly and well, we couldn’t have that. 
Every guide on emo aesthetics emphasized stick straight hair. Every emo kid I knew reinforced that idea. I begged my mom for a relaxer, she refused. It was alright, I figured out how to damage my hair well enough on my own. Pete Wentz kept his hair straight, spent his time with a flat iron to press down the curls that made him inpalatable to white suburban teenagers. I could too. The burns, the split ends, the fact that my hair didn’t start to return to its natural texture until I cut several inches off this year, that was the sacrifice kids like me needed to take to come into the scene. If not, you would be made fun of. You’d be compared to Ray Toro, everyone’s favorite ‘princess fro fro.’ He was Puerto Rican, just like me. No one talked about that, beyond whispering it around like a dirty secret. No one acknowledged his pride in his country, mirrored by my own pride instilled in me from my mother. Every piece of him, every feature identifiable as nonwhite was sneered at. His hair, his nose, his lips, the white kids said he was the ugly one because of them. I was too, I suppose. 
That was back in 2014. I remember it vividly, still.
Turn back the clock to the early 1980s. Dischord records has just signed seminal emo group, Rites of Spring. There is change in the humid Washington DC Summer air. A new genre would be born from it, branching from the existing hardcore movement. To say Dischord records created emo would be no exaggeration. Without them, the music all of us in the scene know and love would be nonexistent. Dischord was seminal in the scene, Dischord was also founded by Ian MacKeye, vocalist for Minor Threat and later, Fugazi. 
Minor Threat is not emo in the tradional sense. Musically, it’s similar to punk and hardcore groups of the time, lacking the distinct musical flourishes of MacKeye’s later emo group, Fugazi. Still, Minor Threat helped shape the hardcore scene emo was born from and created the record label that signed Rites of Spring, the first emo band. Fugazi is legendary in first and second wave emo circles, influencing bands like Thursday. MacKeye’s stamp on emo is inescapable, even in the third wave. MacKeye also penned the song: Guilty of Being White. 
Guilty of Being White is a minute of MacKeye complaining about systemic racism - or rather, being blamed for systemic racism. He’s sorry for being white, he’s so so sorry, don’t you feel sorry for him, a white man in the 1980s? Isn’t it horrible that white people are blamed for systemic inequality? Isn’t it horrible that he actually has to put work into allyship with people of color? 
MacKeye says he never meant for the song to seem racist. Surely, the fact that it’s become a favorite of white power groups is a coincidence. 
All that is to say, racism was baked into emo from the very beginning. The label that created the genre was founded by white men with very clear issues with racism, even if they did not see it that way. Pete Wentz flat ironing his Black hair and Tyler Joseph refusing to say he’s influenced by rap aren’t bugs unique to the third wave. Instead, they’re features of the genre. 
Now, I’m not writing this to ‘cancel’ emo. I love emo dearly, I still consider myself emo. It, in every wave, is my favorite genre of music. Rites of Spring, Jawbreaker, My Chemical Romance, these bands have shaped my life like no other. Through emo I have met some of my best friends, white and nonwhite alike. Emo allowed me to express my gender and sexuality freely. Emo changed my life for the better, and it continues to do so. No, I am not writing this to cancel emo, whatever that means. Instead, it is because I love the genre so much that I feel the need to point out its flaws, its shielding and harboring of racism since Dischord herself began. 
They say you should end essays like this with a call to action. Personally, I don’t know what I can say that hasn’t been reiterated a thousand times. Really, what am I supposed to say here? Stop being racist? I, like so many other people of color both in and out of the scene are tired of telling white people to do just that over and over. We are tired of seeing white people stop saying what isn’t acceptable anymore, not due to any sort of active unpacking of white supremacy on their part but simply out of a wish to not be ostracized. I am tired of going to emo spaces outside my friend groups and explaining to white thirty year olds what racism is, over and over and over again ad infinitum. I am tired of seeing white people try and take the lead on discussions of racism, whether it is to rapidly assert ‘im not racist but-‘ or to be on the opposite extreme, to jump the gun and form a dog-eat-dog circus, where the end goal is not to actually form a safe place for people of color but to prove how not racist they are. I am tired of watching white people jump on whatever they can to demonize people of color in the scene. I am tired of watching nuanced conversations about racism and complicitness in racism be overshadowed by people upset their pet white man isn’t going to kiss their other pet white man anymore. I am tired of watching children be called slurs. 
Perhaps my frustration is coming loose. It’s hard to be in the middle of all this and not be frustrated. At this point, I am disillusioned. These conversations are seemingly brought up every month, and yet, there is no systemic change. All I can say is I hope that one day, emo becomes actively hostile to racism and racists. Perhaps being aware that racism has been integral to the scene since the beginning is a good place to start. 
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xzaddyzanakinx · 5 months
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| So, So Right | pt.1
Stepbro! Anakin Skywalker x Innocent Reader
18+ MDNI
Warnings: eventual smut, inappropriate relationships
Info: Modern AU, Anakin is whipped, Anakin literally worships the ground you walk on, Not Profread
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It had been almost 4 months since your world was shattered and the pieces were glued haphazardly back together. Everything had happened alarmingly fast, one day it was just you and your mother, the next she was bringing home a stranger. He was nice, he made your mom happy and that was enough of a reason for you to love him as well.
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That was until one night Obi-Wan and your mother came in to the living room where you sat typing away on your laptop for a college class. Obi-Wan cleared his throat to catch your attention, once you looked up and saw the nervous smiles on their faces you got a nauseous feeling in your stomach.
“Can we talk for a second?” Your mother asked tentatively, almost afraid to ask.
“Yeah sure. What’s up?” You raised an eyebrow and carefully put your laptop on the coffee table.
“We’ve decided it’s time for you to meet my son.” Obi-Wan smiled, “the year is almost over, he will be coming home for the summer.”
Your mind spun, this could mean the end of your normalcy. This was a serious step, of course you knew he had a son, but you had never even spoken to him, much less seen him.
“That’s a couple weeks away. Uh- well thanks for telling me?” You said confused.
“Yes but, honey, look at me.” Your mother’s sweet and calming voice pierced through the fog attempting to form in your mind. “He’s coming to visit this weekend!”
“Like this weekend? As in tomorrow?” You asked, standing up abruptly.
“Yes, he will be here tomorrow afternoon. We want to take you both out to dinner.” Obi-Wan nodded, reaching out to encourage you to walk over.
“Okay,” you forced a smile, trying to hide your nervousness, “what’s his favorite desert?”
Obi-Wan chuckled, pulling you into an embrace where you were sandwiched between him and your mother.
“Blondies.” He whispered and gave you an affectionate shoulder squeeze.
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You tossed and turned all night, unable to get comfortable and desperate to turn your thoughts off. You so badly wanted to make a good impression on him. You knew enough about him to know he played Lacrosse, he was such a good player and had so much passion for it that he had considered majoring in sports management. Though quickly realized engineering and mechanics was the perfect fit for him. He was tall and pretty, a scar across his eye from his teenage years. That was it, that was all you had. Plus the fact you now knew he liked Blondies.
So the moment your alarm had went off you rolled out of bed and got to work. Baking was your passion, culinary school was the perfect fit for you. You dreamed of opening a pastry shop, and you used every spare minute to hone your skills. The process was easy, cookie dough and brownie batter, slap it all in a pan and throw it in the oven.
Now that you’d taken them out to cool, you found yourself restless and incapable of sitting still. This was going to be a long day.
Over the next few hours you packaged away the Blondies in a cute pastry box with a pink tag that you’d written ‘Anakin’ in beautiful calligraphy, showered and watched a few episodes of your favorite show, and now you sat at your vanity.
Staring at yourself in the mirror, hyping yourself up to meet the most important person in Obi-Wan’s life. Carefully applying your makeup, not too much, just enough to accentuate your natural features and lengthen your eyelashes. Painting your nails and nude-ish pink and slipping on a soft baby blue dress with matching shoes.
Descending the stairs while your hair flowed gracefully down your back in loose curls. Obi-Wan and your mother sat at the kitchen table chatting, immediately looking up when you entered the room.
“Oh! You look lovely!” Your mother clapped her hands and her lips curved into a genuine smile.
“Beautiful.” Obi-Wan beamed, he had really taken to the roll of father figure for you, and it showed in moments like these. He treated you as his own flesh and blood.
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The car ride went quickly, and soon you were entering the restaurant. Watching the crowd from the waiting room, in fitted black dress pants and a black button-up stood a sandy haired boy. Obi-Wan rushed over and clapped a hand on his back, pulling him into a crushing hug. You stood with your mother, watching the scene unfold with adoration.
“Ani!” Obi-Wan outstretched his arms to gesture to you. “Here she is!”
His gaze lingered on your face before traveling down and back up, his cheeks a bit pink and his eyes wide.
“Hi! It’s nice to meet you again Satine.” He nodded and took your mothers hand between his two large ones.
“I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” Anakin turned to you, his height making you feel smaller than before. You introduced yourself as Anakin seemed to drink in every word.
The hostess soon called for your party, and brought you to a large round table near a floor to ceiling window. The view was gorgeous and the table setting was just as elegant. The dinner was going smoothly, Anakin was easy to get along with. He seemed genuinely interested in everything you said, you were so relieved that you didn’t even notice the hunger in his gaze.
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That had been weeks ago, and it felt like an eternity. The dinner ended with a bombshell of an announcement, Obi-Wan and your mother were engaged to be married.
Now Anakin had moved in, the wedding date was set and Obi-Wan had put his house on the market. Your room was right next to Anakin’s, and you had a shared bathroom connecting the rooms. You didn’t mind, in fact you quite enjoyed being so close to him.
The friendship had blossomed beautifully, spending time with Anakin was your new favorite thing. He kept you company when you were flitting about the kitchen with your apron covered in flour, helped you with chores, read to you at night and he even walked through the neighborhood with you and quickly discovered your fear of the large dog at the end of the cul-de-sac when you practically jumped into his arms when it barked at you. He didn’t make fun of you like you expected, he held you to his chest and whispered calming words until you were ready to continue, after that his hand was practically glued to yours in a comforting grasp at all times.
Today was the beginning of his new summer job, he’d be working at the local car shop as a mechanic, he was absolutely ecstatic. Of course you were equally excited for him, but you held a bit of worry in your heart, what would you do all day without him here?
“Goodmorning princess,” he called from the shared bathroom, you almost always kept your doors open so you could easily get to his room and vice versa.
You hopped up quickly and rushed to sit on the bathroom sink while he brushed his teeth. He greeted you with a sleepy kiss to your forehead, leaving a soft smile on your lips.
“Are you excited?” You asked.
“So excited.” He grinned, spitting toothpaste foam into the sink and rinsing it down.
“Good! I-I’ll bring you some lunch okay?” You said.
“Perfect. I’d miss you too much if you didn’t.” He gathered you up in his arms, hooking his forearms under your thighs to hold you close to his chest while you wrapped your legs around him, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder. He walked you over to his bedroom, gently laying you in his still-warm sheets.
“Ani?” You asked as you watched him strip from his pajama pants and sleep shirt.
“What is it babe?” He asked as he walked to his closet in just his boxers.
“What am I supposed to do all day while you’re gone?” Your lip stuck in a pout.
“We talked about this,” he said gently, sliding a white shirt over his head and throwing some jeans on the bed before making his way to you.
“I’ll be back everyday at 5:00. You’ll have from 8:00 to 5:00 to do whatever you want! Call up one of your friends, see if they want to set up a weekly hang out or something.”
He carefully tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear, you could see the pain in his eyes at the thought of you being upset.
“I know. I will.” You sighed, scooting closer to rest your head on his knee.
“I gotta do this to get the experience, so I can open my own garage. How else am I gonna make sure you get that big cake shop hmm?” He caressed your cheek with his thumb, making you nod in agreement.
“You’ll see me at lunch, and once I get home, I’ll take you out to see a movie. How that sound?” He asked, taking notice of your sour expression.
You perked up at the thought, it had been a while since you’d been to the theater.
“Yes! That would make up for it I think.” You said playfully.
“Good. Now I gotta go before you convince me to stay.” He laughed, smoothing your hair and standing up.
Throwing on his jeans and a belt before tugging on his brand new pair of work boots. He took one last look at you, pressing his lips to his thumb and transferring the kiss to your bottom lip in a gentle swipe. He left you there, alone in his room. His blankets smothered you with his scent and you slowly let yourself fall asleep.
You groggily awoke to the feeling of the mattress being weighted down. A gentle hand shaking your leg to get your attention. Your sleep filled eyes barely registered the figure at the foot of the bed, Obi-Wan. You rubbed your eyes with your knuckles as he spoke.
“What’re you doing in here?” He asked.
“I came to tell Anakin bye and I fell asleep.” You laughed, sitting up.
“You almost had me worried,” he smiled, “I didn’t see you in your room when I stopped to tell you that your mom left for work and I was on my way out.”
“Sorry!” Your eyes widened, “oh I didn’t even think- I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“It’s okay, don’t apologize.” He stood up, getting ready to leave. “Have a good day!” He called as he left the room.
Once you gathered the energy to pull yourself out of the cocoon you’d made in Anakin’s bed, you headed downstairs to make yourself breakfast and to assemble a bag lunch for Anakin.
You called a few friends, only one being free every week. Your childhood friend Ashley was more than happy to have a standing date with you every Thursday, she seemed excited to spend more time with you. As you ended the call you hopped into your car and set on your way to Anakin’s new job.
You stepped out onto the pavement with your old beat-up sneakers and shorts with a black crop top. The ground around you practically sizzled from the heat and you quickly made your way inside into the sweet relief of air conditioning. You strode up to the desk and tapped the bell on the counter, a man came out from the back after a few seconds.
“What can I do for you missy?” His voice was gruff and his shirt was stained beyond repair.
“I’m Anakin’s step-sister, I brought him lunch.” You lifted up the bag and smiled.
“Right, he told me you’d be coming.” He smirked, taking in your appearance before turning on his heel and yanking open a side door.
“Skywalker! Your girl is here.” He shouted, and moments later Anakin came rushing through the door, unzipping his work jumpsuit so that it hung from his hips, his white undershirt covered in sweat.
“There she is!” He grinned, enveloping you in a tight hug, breaking the embrace to place a possessive hand on the small of your back, leading you outside and back to your car.
“How is it? Is it fun? Do you like the people? Who was that guy? Is he your boss?” Your rapid fire questions had Anakin laughing as he cracked open his can of Pepsi.
“Slow down,” he grinned, pulling out his sandwich and chips. “Yes, it’s fun and all the people are super nice. And yes, that man is my boss, his name is Gary.”
“He doesn’t mind that I’m gonna be here everyday does he?” You asked.
“No, I told him you’d be bringing me lunch. He’s fine with it, gave me a teasin’ though.” He laughed.
“Why?” You questioned confused.
“Ah no big deal, he’s just jealous that I’ve got such a sweetheart like you.” His hand found yours and his thumb brushed your knuckles lovingly. “Thought it was weird my step-sis tolerated me enough to bring me food.”
“Huh? That’s mean!” You huffed, “I don’t tolerate you, I love you!”
“I know baby. I know.” He brought your knuckles to his lips and placed a chaste kiss there before taking a bite of his sandwich.
“Guess I’m just lucky.” He shrugged with a teasing smirk.
You watched with adoration as he downed his food, he was starving, as if this was the only thing he’d eaten in days.
“I’m gonna have to pack you more tomorrow.” You said, dusting crumbs off his shirt. “Do you need me to bring you a snack? Are you still hungry?”
“I’ll be alright for today, we’ll just get some food before the movie tonight.” He said, taking his palm to your cheek.
He stared, his pupils blown wide as he gazed down at you leaning into his palm. He was always so soft and gentle with you, he made you feel so loved.
“C’mere.” He whispered, cradling your head now between both hands as he drew your face closer. Pressing a kiss to your nose and then to your forehead. “Thank you for always bein’ so sweet to me.”
“You deserve it.” You grinned, quickly pecking him on the cheek. “You should probably get back.”
“I know.” He sighed, putting his trash into the lunch bag and setting it in the floor board of the car.
His gaze lingered on your lips, and quickly shot over to the garage doors, all four were shut and so was the public entrance. He shook his head slightly.
“What’s wrong Ani?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed.
“Nothing princess. Just thinking.” His voice was soft. “I love you.”
“I love you!” You responded happily, throwing your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his neck. A soft groan escaped his mouth at the feeling of your lips grazing accidentally across the sensitive skin.
Anakin’s head swam as he thought to himself, about the last few weeks, the way you so willingly gave him affection, how you didn’t seem to realize how your touch affected him, that you didn’t seem to understand that the attachment between the two of you was far from normal. He should be ashamed, taking advantage of your innocence like this, you didn’t know any better. He should be disgusted with his actions, with his anything but pure thoughts. But he couldn’t help himself. You were you, and that was enough of a reason for him to throw his morals and better judgment out the window.
He made a decision right then, with your arms around him and his lips pressed against the crown of your head. He was yours, you were his.
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yxami · 9 months
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Immortal yandere! Collab with @suiana 😊
description: immortal gn yandere x gn reader, immortal x reincarnated reader, lots of past life talk, obsession, possessiveness, mentioned killing, lovesick yandere, I don’t think they can even thrive w/out reader
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You stared dumbfounded at the person who had just told you they were your destined soulmate. Honestly, were they on something? That was your first thought until you had memories flooding back from your past lives. Each life, they’d give you the same spiel to remind you how long they’ve been alongside you.
Every single time.
It wasn’t even rehearsed, they knew it by heart by how ecstatic they were to tell you, their heart beating like a teenage school girl in love each time. You’d always stare at them like you were now, no matter what body or gender you reincarnated as. It was always the same blank one piercing into their lovesick eyes.
This life was the longest they waited without you, it took you a year to reincarnate again which worried them so badly that they were this close to start massacring so you’d have a larger chance at being reincarnated. More people dying means more people have to reincarnate. Right? Yeah!
Every little delusion helped them skip their way back into your uneventful life, no matter where you were born, they’d find you. It’s like you had a tracker in your heart and they were simply your little compass. Something destined to find you no matter how far you were.
“Again? You’ve been chasing me for my past 15 lives?” You weren’t that surprised from all the memories they somehow unlocked from your brain. Even if your brain wasn’t there for those situations your soul was. Souls recall everything according to him.
“Yup! This will be your 16th! How should we celebrate? Go somewhere? Maybe have a party, almost like a sweet 16?” They excitedly brought up questions back to back, as if their mind was programmed to try and scrounge up ideas that might please you.
You were tempted to deny and just walk away, but judging from the memories you saw, that method didn’t work. It just seemed like they’d cling onto you even more if you did, hanging over your shoulder asking why you were so moody. Did you want to hang out alone? Were you being grumpy because you needed affection?
Those were the questions they asked you in the past when you had decided to try and ignore them the whole time which ultimately made them adore you more for trying it. It was like they saw you as a rat in their difficult maze, looking from above to see what cute little choices you’d make.
Maybe it would make more sense if they were a giant rat in love.
“Hellooo? Lost in thought? Cmon let’s go! I managed to grab a cake on my way here and I don’t want it to melt in my car” They pushed their lips into a pout about the idea of a large cake melting into their seat which they’d have to hire someone to do and that would take too long!
They dragged you along into their car, ironically it being a luxurious car as if they had spent their entire life dedicated to work instead of focusing on you. If you had to guess it probably took them less than a month to infiltrate into a rich family.
But they didn’t let you guess about them, they could almost read your mind so they decided to fill you in on things you didn’t know since the year had passed. The entire car ride filled with “I love you!” And “Did you miss me?” Along with their history that they actually managed to get on track about.
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