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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

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moving day (explicit)

genre: domestic-ass smut (honestly kind of fluffy bc i am Whipped For Min Yoongi)

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: you manage to entice your boyfriend into taking a break from unloading boxes to unload something else instead.

word count: 2.6k

contains: explicit sexual content bloop bloop !!! established relationship, up to you if it's idol-verse or not idk 🤷‍♀️, cunnilingus, blowjob, reader gets a facial oop, tiny bit of praise kink, long-haired yoongi with a hair tie on his wrist 🥵🥵, yoongi has domestic soft dom energy, reader is yoongisexual lmao

A/N: my water sign placements really Jumped out with this one...... that's all i'll say lmao i am lowkey embarrazzed and not responsible for any delulu feelings this may stir up 👀👀 BUT BOY IT SURE WAS NICE TO WRITE A YOONGI THAT ISN'T THE ONE FROM LDOMLT !!! even i need a break from that asshole sometimes 😂 hope y'all enjoyyyyy 💜

this is also on AO3!

~*~

“Remind me again why we didn’t hire movers?” The question comes out strained as you struggle to lift a particularly heavy box.

Your boyfriend watches you carefully to make sure you’re lifting safely– if you have to hear him say ‘with your knees, not your back’ one more time, you think you might lose it. Then he grabs another box off the truck and follows you up the drive to the house.

“I didn’t realize you had so much crap,” he says with a wry laugh. You make a mental note to get him back for that later.

A bead of sweat rolls down your temple, and when you finally deposit the box on the kitchen floor, you reach up to wipe it away with the back of your hand. The heat wave that’s been ongoing for the last few weeks is stifling, but Yoongi made a huge fuss about not turning on the AC until you got everything off the truck. Something about how you’d just be leaving the door open, and he’s not going to waste money to air condition the entire street.

Your boyfriend is such an old man sometimes, honestly. He’s lucky you love him.

Yoongi’s mouth pulls down at the corners as he struggles to read the label on the box in his arms, determining where he needs to drop it. It’s one of the many endearing faces he makes that you find so sexy, even though you objectively shouldn’t. A little thrill of excitement runs through you at the reminder that this is, in fact, really happening. You’ll get to see all of him, every morning and every night.

His face, and… You follow him down the hall, appreciating the view. His cute little butt, and…

Gingerly setting the box on the floor, he stands upright and sweeps his hair off his forehead for a moment in an attempt to cool down. His hair.

Yoongi claims he hasn’t gotten it cut because he’s been so busy with all the planning and packing required for the move, and maybe that’s true. You have also threatened to burn down any salon he makes an appointment with, and it was a joke, but god. He looks so fucking good like this. If he actually admitted to keeping it long just to make you happy, you’d probably propose on the spot.

He glances up and catches you openly staring, sticking his tongue out to indicate how overheated he is. Then he waggles his eyebrows and your core throbs a little. Fucking hell, the things this man does to you.

Your heart jumps in your chest as he walks back down the hallway to close the distance between you. Before you have time to process it, his thigh is slotting between your legs, his hips pinning you against the wall as he finds your lips with his own. It’s enough to make you gasp into his mouth, and you can feel his smug smile at your reaction.

Yoongi loves to make you come undone.

He pulls away far too quickly, and you whine a little at him leaving you unsatisfied. Not that you could ever get enough of kissing him, but you’d at least like to try.

“Come on,” his voice is quiet and low in his throat. “We’re nearly done with these boxes. Then we can properly christen this place.”

You don’t want to move any more stupid boxes. You want him to turn you around and take you right up against the wall. But you lose your will to argue when he gently strokes your arm with his hand, and you look down to see the thin black elastic around his wrist.

Since the two of you got together, your friends have relentlessly bullied you for this fact: you are insanely whipped for your boyfriend. They’ve dubbed you “Yoongisexual” at this point because literally anything he does becomes a kink for you. Including the simple act of wearing a hair tie around his wrist. It’s something you’ve done for most of your life, so when he kept complaining about his long hair getting in the way, you bought him a pack of elastics, mostly as a joke.

But then he started wearing one around his wrist, and you realized very quickly that it was no longer a joke.

You slip a finger under the thin black band and tug on it gently, and he smirks at you, because you both know exactly what he uses it for. “Soon. I promise.”

As much as you want to be good and do what you’re told, you’ve run out of patience. When Yoongi moves to head for the front door again, you tighten your grip around his wrist, forcing him to turn back to you. Then you slide his hand up your skirt and beneath the waistband of your panties so he can feel how soaked you are.

“How am I supposed to go back to lifting boxes when you did this to me?”

A groan escapes his lips as his fingers brush over your drenched folds and circle around your warm, wet center. You smile because you know damn well you’re on equal footing in this relationship: Yoongi is entirely whipped for you, too.

He presses one of his perfect fingers into your tight heat, curling it to rub circles on your g-spot, and you inhale sharply at the feeling. Your head tilts back against the wall, your eyes fluttering closed. “Ah, fuck.”

Yoongi grunts in response, and when you open your eyes again to take him in, he’s looking at you like he’s ready to devour you.

Withdrawing his hand from your panties, he slips the other between your back and the wall, encouraging you to stand up and move towards the kitchen. You follow the direction of his touch, knees instantly a little weak. When he guides you to the island in the center of the wide, sunny room, you turn back to him in confusion.

He wastes no time on explanation, arms wrapping just under your ass to pick you up and set you easily on the counter. You squeak at unexpectedly being lifted off the ground like it’s nothing: he really is getting shredded from all those Pilates classes.

Yoongi is already working to strip you of your shoes and socks, and the look on his face is so focused, with a blazing intensity that’s bordering on anger. Fuck, you love it when he gets like this. It only takes him a matter of seconds to finish the task, and then his hands are reaching up your thighs.

“What about the boxes?” You ask demurely.

“I don’t give a shit.” Yoongi says, his voice deadly serious. “The neighbors can have them.”

You lift your hips to assist as he pushes your skirt up and grabs the band of your thong, pulling it down and off of you entirely. He sends it sailing over to the other side of the kitchen, and now there’s nothing separating your cunt from the cold marble countertop. He grabs you by the hips and scoots you forward just a little more, until your ass is almost hanging off the edge of the island.

You want it so bad, but there’s still a tiny part of you that protests. You have to say it. “But Yoongi, this is where we’re going to eat.”

When he glances up at you, quirking an eyebrow, you realize what you’ve set him up for. “I know,” he says coolly. “What do you think I’m doing?”

Just as you open your mouth to argue, Yoongi reaches for the hair tie on his wrist, deliberately poking at your known weakness. Pulling it off, he places it between his teeth as his hands reach up to run through his hair. He rakes the dark strands back into a small, low ponytail at the base of his neck, then grabs the elastic out of his mouth and loops it around a few times until it's secure.

You think to yourself that you have no idea how you got so lucky, and then he brings his mouth to you and that thought is reinforced a thousand fold.

With a heady sigh of relief, you lean back, bracing yourself on your elbows and draping your legs over his shoulders. Yoongi’s already groaning against you as he slides his tongue up your dripping wet folds. He loves the way you taste, would spend hours between your legs if you’d let him– which sometimes you absolutely do. And he’s fucking good at it.

It would be impossible to make a full ranked list of all the things you love about your boyfriend, but his tongue is definitely in the top five. He traces it up to settle at your clit, flicking against the sensitive bud with short, deft strokes, and you make a mental correction as you groan and buck up into him. Top three.

He slips two fingers into your pussy this time, and your next moan is nearly a sob as he starts to press down hard with them against your front wall, matching the rhythm of his tongue. “Yes, baby, fuuuuuck,” you cry out.

“Mm-hmm,” Yoongi hums in response against your cunt, and the buzz of his mouth drives you fucking crazy, as does the satisfied look on his face that you see when you glance down. Your boyfriend loves doing things he’s good at, which certainly includes making you come.

And you’re already close to the edge, a fresh wave of arousal gushing out of you as he takes you apart so expertly. You’re sure you’ve made a mess of the counter beneath your ass.

You’re so worked up now, inches from your orgasm, that you can’t keep quiet, moans interspersed with breathless swearing and pleading.

“Fuck, Yoongi, please, don’t fucking stop,” you whimper, and his pace only increases slightly, his perfect rhythm never faltering. You can hear the squelch of his fingers curled inside you, the slick slip of his tongue across your clit, flicking over and over, and your legs are starting to shake.

“Ohhh shit,” you groan loudly as you feel your core start to tighten around him. You reach one hand forward to brush a few loose strands of hair off his forehead, reveling in his absolute perfection as your climax approaches. “God fucking dammit, Yoongi, yes, yes–” your words break off with a loud moan as the wave of pleasure surges and your walls begin to pulse. Your arms tremble with the effort of keeping you propped up as your orgasm rips through you, your back arching violently.

It feels like you’re coming forever, and Yoongi gently slows his pace to ride you through it, your cunt fluttering around his fingers again and again. He waits until you give a soft whine of overstimulation, then finally withdraws, trailing light kisses along your hips and thighs.

“Oh my god, I love you so much,” you manage to gasp, and you hear him laugh a little.

“Come show me how much,” he instructs, and you don’t need any more encouragement. Your legs threaten to give out as you slip off the counter, and you sink to your knees as gently as possible to avoid banging them on the wood floor. You pull his dick out of his sweatpants and can’t help but make a soft, appreciative noise at the weight and thickness of him in your hand.

You’ve never dated anyone who gets as hard as Yoongi does just from performing oral. When you think back on your exes, you usually had to coax them to attention after eating you out. But you’ve never had that problem with Yoongi. You swear he nearly gets as much pleasure from it as you do.

This thought is all but confirmed when you take him in your mouth, tasting the salt of the pre-cum that’s already leaked out of his tip, and he groans at the feeling. “I’m not gonna last long, baby,” he admits, and you take that as a challenge.

You grip his thighs with your hands and start to bob your mouth along his length, hollowing your cheeks and applying extra pressure with your tongue in exactly the way you know he likes. You swear you feel his knees nearly buckle.

“Fuck yeah,” he hisses. “Good girl. Just like that.” You hum a little, pleased at the praise, and pick up the pace at which you’re swallowing him down.

Yoongi doesn’t babble quite as much as you do when he’s close, instead preferring to make heady little grunts and groans; they’re the sexiest sounds in the world as far as you’re concerned. The low timbre of his voice is enough to make your cunt flutter back to life, as is the way he squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back, hips bucking into your mouth to match your pace.

“Baby,” he groans, and you glance up at him again, not letting your tempo change. “Wanna paint your face, fuck. Can I?”

He doesn’t do it particularly often, but you know finishing on your face is something Yoongi loves. It’s one of the many, many things you had no interest in until this man waltzed into your life and pulled out all the freakiest parts of you that you didn’t even know existed.

Which is why when he asks, you don’t hesitate. You slide off him with a wet pop and sit back on your heels, staring up at him with your eyes wide and your tongue out.

“Goddamn,” he grunts as he brings his hand to his cock, pumping himself hard and fast. “So fucking good for me.” He only has to stroke a few more times before he makes a final strangled whine, white ropes of cum spilling out of him and across your waiting face and tongue.

Yoongi milks every last drop out with a few gasps of effort, and you giggle a little despite yourself. You just love him, every part, every noise.

As if he can read your mind, he says it back. “Love you. Fuck.”

You try to hold your head still to keep any rogue drops from running into your eyes. Yoongi looks around, and you see a worried expression start to cross his face as he tucks his dick into his pants.

“Shit, baby. I don’t think we’ve unpacked the towels yet.” Your shoulders shake a little in more disbelieving giggles. “Hang on, hang on,” he calls back to you as he disappears out of the kitchen, moving quickly.

It’s only for a brief moment that you have to just sit there and laugh, beads of cum trailing down your jaw, and then he returns, dropping onto his knees next to you. He’s holding the roll of paper towels you’ve been using to clear errant dust in the new house as you go.

“Should have planned ahead. Let me clean you up.” Yoongi says softly, tearing off a few sheets and dabbing at your face. He soaks through them quickly and has to grab more. “Fuck, you made me come a lot,” he says with an embarrassed laugh, and that only makes you laugh more.

He wipes the last of it from your temples, then lets the damp crumpled sheets drop to the kitchen floor, taking your face in his hands and pulling you in for a sweet, gentle kiss. You smile against his mouth in an overwhelming daze of happiness.

When you break away, he presses another quick kiss to your forehead, then murmurs against your hairline. “Well, that’s one room down. Let’s finish this up, and then you can help me decide if I should bend you over the couch or my desk first.” You bury your face in his shoulder at the mental image, and his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer. “God, I fucking love you.”

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #moving day

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gguksgalaxy · 1 year

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5:26pm | Seungcheol 1k

Slight angst, requested by anonymous, request me from here

“You’re late,” you deadpan the second your boyfriend sets his briefcase down on the hallway floor. You can’t even see him from the kitchen, but he surely can hear you. The two of you should’ve left for your family get-together already, 26 minutes ago to be precise. He promised he’d be home. He wasn’t.

He rounds the corner from the hallway into the kitchen, bottom lip tucked between his teeth every so slightly as he meets your gaze. You merely raise your eyebrows to which he sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” It wasn’t the first time this had happened. It surely wouldn’t be the last time. Seungcheol was a busy man, the fact that he’d even agreed to come was something. Him always getting caught up at work was just getting too frustrating at this point.

You look at him properly. His tie undone, first buttons too, jacket slung over his arm. Part of you understood why people found him intimidating. Dark eyes, darker brows, strong build. Yet when your eyes land on his, all you see is the sweet young man you fell in love with almost three years ago now. His eyes wide, innocent almost, avoiding your piercing gaze. “You’re not even going to give me an excuse?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I don’t have one. I got held back.”

You nod. “Get changed, then we can talk. I can’t keep doing this.”

“Don’t say that,” he rushes, suddenly beside you, fingers warm on your wrist.

“Cheol,” you sigh, reaching out to let your fingers graze the line of his jaw, “I’m not breaking up with you. I just want to talk about it. I promise.”

He steps away with a deep sigh, trudging into your shared bedroom. It leaves you with time to gather your thoughts. The couch is comfortable as you sink into it, waiting for him to return. You have many words you want to say, but they all seem too harsh. Despite wanting to say so much, you don’t want to hurt him. It isn’t his fault entirely, and yet you can’t help but clench your jaw when you see your mom’s dejected text upon hearing that you won’t be coming tonight.

“Baby,” Cheol starts the second he returns to the livingroom.

“You’re sorry, I know,” you say again, eyes tracing him as he takes a seat in the chair next to you. “I just think we need to talk about this before I actually convince myself that you don’t care about me.”

His brows furrow the second the words leave your mouth. “What? How could you even—“ he stops himself, pursing his lips. “That’s going to be a stupid question, and you’re going to explain it to me. I’ll shut up. Please tell me what you want.”

Despite your anger, you can’t help but smile at him a little. “Listen, I get that you’re busy, and that your job at the company is important. What I do not understand however, is that you can’t come home on time when I ask you to. I don’t ask you to very often. And even then, would it be too much to at least call me to let me know you’re going to be late? Send me a text?” You pause, taking a deep breath before your emotions get the better of you. “I know you love me—“

“I do, so much,” he interrupts, catching himself as he does. He bites his lips, eyes going wide. “Sorry.”

Another chuckle leaves your lips. “I know you love me, but you’re starting to make me feel like your work is more important. Can’t your boss and coworkers be respectful of the fact that you have a life outside of work a few times a year?”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “I’ll try and be more firm next time. It’s just that I…” he stops again, eyes trailing off to the painting behind you. “It’s not okay, and I’ll do my best to not let it happen again. Okay?”

You tilt your head just a bit. “What were you going to say?”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” He pushes it away with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, not the way it usually does. “Did you really think it’s because I don’t care about you? Baby there is no way I would ever forget you on purpose, I swear I stood in the hallway for like 45 minutes before I could go. They kept talking and pulling me into shit that had to be solved and—“

“Seungcheol,” you whisper, grabbing his hand where it’s tight around the armrest. “Stop, it’s fine. I know how work can be. Next time, just please let me know if you really can’t help it.”

“Next time I’ll just tell them that ‘sorry my w-girlfriend is waiting for me at home’,” he grumbles.

You let his little slip up slide for now. “What were you going to say though?”

For a moment the two of you have a silent conversation. His big eyes pleading you not to ask him, and you definitely not giving up until he gives in to you. Knowing he’d give you almost anything you asked for.

“The reason I’ve been so busy is because well…I’ve been trying to secure this promotion so that we can live more comfortably and all. I though that it would help us both out, so maybe we can get out of his apartment for a start.”

“What?” you almost gasp. “Seungcheol I’m living comfortable now than I ever have. You don’t have to get a promotion at work for me? Babe, this place is huge in my books. Don’t overwork yourself for my sake.”

He nods softly again, eyes full of love and adoration as always. “I still want to do it. I want to provide for you.”

You grab his hand so you can kiss his knuckles ever so softly. “Then I’ll support you.”

Maybe one day you’ll ask him if he really just almost did call you his wife.

Request me from here | © GguksGalaxy 2018 - 2023

#seungcheol fic #seventeen fic #scoups fic #seventeen angst #seungcheol angst #scoups angst #seventeen drabble #scoups drabble #seungcheol drabble #mywriting

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findingnemosworld · 9 months

Text

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐉𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧

• related to my wattpad story ( @taznimali if you wish to follow )

___________________________________________

It shouldn’t be this nerve wrecking, she had gone on dates before, Yes, some were blind dates set up by her aunt in hopes of her moving forward in life which were quite the disaster and yet in that moment she stands in front of her mirror, debating on which dress she’d chose, eventually she opts for the red dress or as her aunt liked to call it, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬.

She finally manages to tie up the strings then she smoothed out the front of the dress to make it seem more presentable at least, " Ok, relax " Luna says to no one in particular, as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. " Relax, it’s just a date "

Except, it wasn’t just a date.

Months of back and forth, of battling the obvious tension that developed between them at work or even spending time together had accumulated to this moment where they finally gave in to what they both have been feeling all along.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing followed by two knocks.

She swallows the lump in her throat, then checks her reflection in the mirror once again before a smile formed on her lips which were coated with a beautiful shade of rosé, her makeup was simple, the dress looked perfect, her hair cascaded in beautiful waves across her back and the heels were comfortable. “ Ok I think it’s good " she mutters before sauntering out of the bedroom to make her way towards the front door.

He was in a limbo state of emotions, in the sense of feeling both nervous and excited all at once, the fact that it’s finally happening was beyond anything he could have ever dreamed of yet he was thankful nonetheless, they’d gone past the blurry lines and unanswered questions to finally get to this very moment.

Falling in love with your best friend seemed like a ludicrous idea back then, he never believed that the girl who stuck by his side and had been there for him when he needed could ever be anything more than that yet it seemed that fate had other plans that seemed to kick in when she first returned a year ago.

And it all lead to 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 very moment.

The door flies open and he could have sworn that if his heart possessed limbs, then it would have ran straight for her. She looked incredibly beautiful, she’d always been and yet tonight, there seemed to be a different air about 𝐡𝐞𝐫, about them in particular.

" Hi " She breathes out the greeting, with a soft yet captivating smile.

" Hi " He muttered, his gaze raked over every inch of her; feeling the blood rushing in a million different direction, an embarrassed cough erupts from his lips as he shakily hands her the bouquet of red roses. " These are for you " he smiles.

" Oh wow " She giggles, taking a whiff of the roses, " Thank you Jord " she said before stepping to the side, " Erm … come in. I’ll put them in a jar before we leave "

He walks in, standing near the doorway as she walked into the kitchen to fill up the empty vase, then she placed the roses in. " All done " she said loudly before grabbing her purse to join him, " shall we head out? "

He blinks twice, and smiles. " Ah yes, yes we shall "

___

“ Hey Lulu " He breaks the silence as they drive towards their destination for the night.

" Hm … " She hums in response, she’d grown accustomed to the nickname despite hating it at first. " What’s up? "

" I didn’t tell you this earlier! " He began with a soft tone, " But you look … " he pauses before a soft chuckle erupts from his lips, " You look incredible " he whispers.

Luna casts her gaze away, silently grateful that there were no lights to show how her cheeks reddened from the compliment she heard, " Thank you Jordan, you don’t look so bad yourself "

He grins, " I’m glad you think so, because I thought I might hear a comment about my hair " he adds teasingly.

" Oh ha ha! " She rolls her eyes before laughing, " We both know you deserved them, someone had to knock some sense into you about using that hair gel, please give your poor hair a rest "

" If you say so " He said, " I can’t say no to you "

" Lucky me " She giggles.

They reach the restaurant and were lead to a private booth before being given the menus, the first few minutes were spent in silence as Luna looked over the selection of meals, " I don’t know what to choose " she states, " Do you go here? "

" Yeah, I’ll order us the special " He said.

Once they had their orders down, they spent the rest of the night chatting about everything and nothing over a glass of wine.

" I’m glad we are taking the leap " He said with a smile, " It’s been quite the wild ride for us "

" It has been " She nods in agreement before she looks at him. " Jordan, I’ve always - erm - I’ve always loved you but a part of me believes that you were better off with someone else so I settled for being the 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 "

" I’m sorry I never paid attention to your feelings Lu " He said with an apologetic tone. " I was reckless and didn’t know better, but now I do know what I want "

" And what is that? " She smiles.

" I want to spend a lifetime with you, cuddling every morning, watching our girls grow up and become closer than we are " He starts with a smile before adding, " I want us to have our own nights after matches where I can just hold you close to me, we don’t have to say anything, just be there for one another with no words spoken. I want to be able to celebrate every win and cry after every loss with hope that we can survive it all together, I just want … " he exhales a breath, " I want you "

Blinking away the tears, she looks at him. " You " she chuckles, " Jordan Henderson have a way with words "

" That’s cause you " He chuckles, " Luna Cortes, manage to bring it out of me "

After having dinner, the pair decide to drive to a beautiful and secluded area, he stops the car, and they sit out on top of the hood of the car in comfortable silence once again, looking up at the stars.

He looks at her from the corner of his eye, noting how she shivered. " Lu, you’re freezing " he states, taking off his jacket to place it around her. " There we go " he smiles.

She looks up at him, then carefully moves closer. resting her head on his shoulder, she said. " No matter what happens, I want you to promise me that even on the worst of days, we will never be apart " she whispers.

With his free hand, he hooks his thumb to her chin to lift her head up and in turn, press a soft and featherlike kiss to her lips before muttering. " I promise "

#football player imagine #footballer imagine #jordan henderson #liverpoolfc #lfc #hendo #jordan henderson imagine

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newtonsheffield · 2 years

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No molly, cause “all I am” Mary and Kate’s relationship just hits different.

Don’t get me wrong, I love them in all your fics but anytime I ever see Kate call Mary mum, my heart melts (eg in offside when baby Katie breaks her arm and is screaming for her mummy and Mary’s like I’m sorry, she can’t be hear, but Katie was actually calling for Mary 🥺)

In All That I Am, how do Mary’s parents factor in, if it all?

Kate's relationship with Mary is one of the true love stories of the Bridgerton series in my opinion.

This Mary is Kate's Mum. She legally adopted Kate after Edwina was born, and Mary had wondered, of course she had if it would feel different with Edwina, but it never did. She'd looked down at the tiny baby in her arms, and felt exactly the same rush of motherly love as when Katie had learned to tie her shoe lace last week, an excited gasp breaking through the kitchen.

"Mummy! I did it!"

And she'd been so delighted, jumping up and down excitedly and Mary had felt tears spring to her eyes. "You did, Katie! That's so amazing! Stand over here so I can take a picture for Papa."

She loved Kate just as much as she loved Edwina, so with her stomach swooping she'd asked Tharman.

"You know I love Katie don't you?"

His eyes had widened nodding gently with their new baby in his arms, "Of course I know that, honey, of course."

"I've been thinking, and um- I- You know how much I respect Kate's biological Mum and the relationship you have with her, but I- I think it would be good for me to... legalise things with Kate. If it was what you both wanted." She took a shuddering breath, "If anything happened to you I wouldn't- anyone could take her from me."

And her heart had been pounding in her chest as Tharman had nodded, smiling gently. "We'll talk to Katie, but you know you're her Mum."

And she feels sick, the next day when they sit at the table, Katie colouring a picture of a dog furiously, her tongue between her teeth.

"Katie, Mary and I have been talking, and we were wondering if you'd like her to become your Mum."

Katie had frozen, her little brow furrowed as she looked up at Mary, something a little hurt in her voice "But you said you already were my Mummy."

"Katie we-"

"No, No! You said I was the same as Edwina, you said!" Her tiny face had turned bright red, scrambling off the chair trying to run away, but Mary couldn't let her. She let her arms dart out, wrapping around her tiny waist, drawing her onto her lap, pressing her against her chest.

"Katie, I love you, so much, and you are just the same as Edwina, okay? But Papa and I need to know if you would want to be my daughter no matter what okay? Because if you do it's important that we go and see some people and tell them that okay?"

"You still love me?" Kate's little voice had been so tiny, pressed against her neck.

"I am going to love you so much, forever."

And Mary hadn't even been able to look at Tharman who'd had tears streaming down his face.

"Can we go see the people then?"

"We can, Mummy and I just need to get it ready first okay?" His voice had been gentle, kissing the top of Katie's head, then Mary's.

"Okay."

And even so, she hadn't really been sure how her family would react. They'd been skeptical, at first, when she'd told them she'd met Tharman, that he was a widower with a three year old daughter.

"It's just... it's a lot of responsibility, Mary." Her mother had sighed.

They'd stood in the house she'd grown up in, like a wall of disapproval, even her brother David had looked so seriously, in a way that had had Mary's eyes rolling.

And then Katie had darted forward, smiling up at him.

"I'm Katie. You must be David. I like your shoes, do they light up like mine?"

david had stared down at her a little incredulously for a second before his face had split into a wide grin, clicking his tongue. "Damn, yours light up?! Run around in a circle and let me see!"

And that had been it.

But even so, watching them now, she was worried.

Katie was sitting on her mother's knee, chattering away happily while they looked down at Edwina, her curly hair bouncing up and down with her wild arm movements, little legs swining happily.

"I'm adopting Katie." Mary cleared her throat as David raised his eyesbrows

"What?"

Her face had twitched, "I'm not interested in hearing it, Davie. She's my daughter, and I love her, and we're a family, and there's no difference. I'm her mum, she's my daughter."

David let out a low whistle. "Calm down, Moo. I meant what? I thought you did that already? What took you so long? That kid's fucking great."

And the next time she was at her mother's more than a little harried as Kate scampered through the door while Edwina cried, perhaps she'd expected to burst into tears, but not for the reason she did.

"Gramma Sarahhhhhhh! It's Katie!"

"Katie, please don't yell." Mary sighed just as her mother called back.

"I've made you biscuits sweetheart!"

She'd followed Katie through to the living room only to find her already perched on her mother's lap smiling at a woman Mary didn't recognise.

"Mary, this is Sally, she just moved in across the street. Sally, my daughter Mary, she's holding Edwina, and this beautiful little girl is her daughter Katie."

And she burst into tears.

#all that i am (all that i ever was)#sharma family feels #mary sharma #kate sharma #kate sheffield #molly’s asks and answers

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astromechs · 2 years

Note

22 or 28, Chris & Adrian

here is number 28! and also i posted this on ao3 just because it got a little bit longer than a drabble lol

from this list (still accepting)!

Adrian has his back straight in his chair, defiant. His hands are still tied behind him, but that will change soon. A lot of things will change soon; he’s strong and he’s committed, just like Peacemaker. There won’t be any whining about being electrocuted, no more whining about pinky toes. He’s definitely grown past all of that.

Which, of course, just to get his point across, he’ll have to say as much. Because how else do you communicate anything if you don’t just say it directly? This is why no one understands anybody, and he’s not going to fall into that trap and keep perpetuating the fucking cycle. You’re welcome.

Peering up at the ceiling through his glasses, as defiant as his stance: “I’m not going to tell you anything.” He shifts in his chair, fingers moving closer to the ties. Just a couple of more seconds to stall, he thinks, and he can get himself free. “Because I’m not stupid and weak, and I don’t spill all the beans while I’m being electrocuted. Nope, not me. I’m tough and I don’t feel pain and I can keep my mouth shut.”

So suck on that.

A little more wiggling, and — fuck, yes, he’s got it. Though the ties could, of course, stand to be a little tighter to make this more of a challenge, it’s fine; he’ll go with what he has. And quickly. The ties fall to the floor in one single fluid motion, and with a pivot on his heel, Adrian is at Chris’s chair, undoing the knot. Again, it could stand to be a little tighter — don’t they, like, teach people how to tie super tight knots in the army? — but he’s adaptable, because that’s how he’s survived out there as Vigilante for so long, obviously.

As soon as Chris’s hands are free, Adrian bends over, leaning in to press their lips together. It’ll never not be a thrill to him, kissing the best guy ever who somehow actually wants to kiss him, too (which is so fucking cool, he can’t even begin to tell you how cool that is) — but even so, something about this kiss is a lot less exciting than it usually is, and a lot less exciting than he’d expected this kiss, specifically, would actually be.

Nearby, Eagly begins to squawk on his perch, and they break apart. The moment had already been broken long before that, though. Actually, Adrian has to admit, it had barely even been a moment at all.

In the ensuing silence, the refrigerator hums behind them, and the sun, slowly setting outside, is sending its last through the blinds of the trailer’s windows; by now, Adrian knows better than to look that way so there isn’t this whole awful glare on his glasses. And in this moment, he keeps his eyes on Chris, unblinking before, finally:

��That’s it?”

“Dude,” Chris says, brows knitting, face contorting in that weird way that Adrian has now learned for almost absolute certainty is a sign that he’s getting irritated. “You’re the one who wanted this whole weird fucking redo the torture scenario as foreplay! And I’m here, man. Doing it. For you.”

Adrian scrunches his nose, and considers. That may be true, but — “But you could do it a little better. Your acting’s totally off.” Standing straight again and turning away with his hands going to his hips, he huffs out a sigh. “I just freed you from the big bad alien who was gonna torture us! You should be kissing me like I’m the hero and you’re super grateful that I saved you, not just… half-assing whatever the fuck that was.”

Since he’s still turned away, Adrian doesn’t actually see Chris stand from his chair, but he hears the telltale groan and creak of it (one, Chris is a big guy to start with, and, two, Adrian’s never said anything because he isn’t a total dick, but he desperately needs some new furniture that isn’t on the verge of falling the fuck apart, kitchen chairs and more). He hears him inhale a long breath through his nose before taking the steps necessary to cover the distance between them. Since Adrian has spent years perfecting his skills in reading everything that happens in his environment (another must for all his patrols), that’s all more than enough warning before big, muscular arms that wrap around him. For the voice that mutters — no, almost grows — into his ear:

“Fuck you, I don’t half-ass anything.”

The effect is instant for Adrian; there’s something that feels like a buzz running down his spine, a breath hitches in his throat, and his pants become just a little tighter. Fuck, part of him wants to just skip all of this and get to what they both really want. But before they do that, no matter how much his body is screaming against it, he still has a point to make.

Fortunately for him, he has excellent control over every single muscle. He’s spent years perfecting that, too, after all.

Turning in Chris’s arms, Adrian looks him dead in the eye. That isn’t always the easiest thing for him, eye contact, but it’s easier with Chris, and it’s easier when he has a point to make; put those two things together, and he’s really not thinking much about the struggle at all. “Well, you kinda just did.” He pauses, and tilts his head. “That was some textbook half-assing.”

The more time they spend together, not just as Peacemaker and Vigilante out on patrol killing bad guys and aliens and whatever else, but also as just Chris and Adrian, the more things that Adrian’s started to figure out how to read — or, at least, he thinks so. There’s this look on Chris’s face right now, one that he usually only gets when he’s obviously got his own point to prove; there’s this certain kind of glint in his eye, and one of the corners of his mouth curls into half a smirk.

Another breath catches in Adrian’s throat as Chris leans in, murmuring, voice so low it’s barely even audible, “You think this is half-assing?”

There isn’t much time to let that sit, because before Adrian knows it, Chris is lifting him from the floor with both hands and pressing him close, crashing their mouths together with a force that might’ve actually knocked him off of his feet had it not been for the whole lifting thing happening first.

No, is the last thing that Adrian can think before everything in his brain turns to complete static. No, this is definitely not half-assing.

#adrian chase #chris smith #vigilmaker #vigilante #peacemaker #* fic #* prompt fic #asks #batmurdock #stupid boys being stupid i don't know what else i can say for this lol

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xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

Text

You Have Me - Bakugou Katsuki

Dad!Bakugou x Babysitter!reader

Warnings: Dad!Bakugou, Fingering, 18+, Cursing, pining, cheating, daddy kink (cuz duh)

Request: Dad Bakugou in love with his babysitter. She’s younger than him but still over legal drinking age and Bakugou is not too old. I just wanna see how he’d go about this whole situation ESPECIALLY if he was already married.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

“F-Faster Katsuki!” You said as Bakugou pounded into you on the kitchen island.

“Shit baby...fuck, you like that shit? Like how daddy fucks your sweet cunt?” He teased as he hit your cervix. “You gonna give me another brat? Huh? C’mon Teddy Bear I know you can do it~”

His hand traveled to your clit as he toyed with your pretty pussy. Your legs shook as he worked his magic and you clenched around his cock.

“Ohh~ ‘M gonna cum!” You cried out. Your hands clawed at Katsuki’s back as he sucked his teeth in due to the stimulating pleasure.

“Do it. Cream all over my cock baby.” You obeyed his every command as you did what you were told and spilled all over him. Your orgasm didn’t stop him as he continued to ram into you. He sped up as he chased his own release and threw his head back.

“F-Fuck! Fuck baby,” he leaned down close to your face as he used his hand to grab your chin. “I love you. You fuckin’ understand me?” He said and brought a smack to your ass. “I love you Y/N.”

His voice grew whiny as his thrust became sloppy. You both were a moaning mess until Katsuki met his climax and filled you with his release. Right as he came, his lips met yours for a rough and passionate kiss that you both desperately moaned into. He continued to slowly thrust into you to push his cum deeper inside your womb as you tugged at his hair. Your lips finally separated as Katsuki stopped his thrusts. He rested his forehead against yours as you both held heavy breaths. He grinned at your dazed eyes and grew excited. He was sure he done enough to get you pregnant. He saw your soft, angelic features and listened carefully as you began to speak.

“Katsuki...it’s time to wake up.” You said with a smile.

“Huh?” Bakugou said in confusion as he lifted his face away from yours. You sat up and shoved his shoulder as your voice began to fade out.

“Wake up! ....Wake up Katsuki. Katsuki! ....Katsuki!”

—

“Katsuki! Wake up!”

The 25 year old man had his eyes shot open as he flinched the slightest bit. He awoke to his bitch of a wife smacking his upper body to get him to come to.

“Ugh, the hell do you want?” He groaned as he layed back down in bed.

“I want you to get out of bed! We’re supposed to be going to Aki’s party today! You owe me since you didn’t want to buy me those heels!” She complained. Bakugou rolled his eyes at the gold digger and shooed her away with his hand.

“Go by your damn self. I have a meeting today. I’m not going to one of your shitty friend’s stupid ass parties. And also, I don’t owe you shit. I’m not dropping three grand on a pair of heels for some bitch.” He said with his eyes still shut. He heard his wife gasp at his insults and he could already imagine her dropped jaw.

“Excuse me, but I’m not some bitch. I’m your wife-“

“Who’s a bitch.” Bakugou interrupted. He opened his piercing, crimson eyes as he watched her tilt her head to the ceiling and crossed her arms.

“Hmph! Fine then! I’ll go by myself!” She said and marched out the room and out the house. Bakugou groaned as he rolled onto his back and threw his arms over his eyes.

“Good. That’s what I wanted. Stupid bitch.” He said to no one in particular. He sighed as he held on to the memory of the sweet dream he was having before his wife had interrupted. The sweet dream of him completely indulging himself in Y/N L/N, his son’s babysitter.

Was it wrong for him to have these thoughts about Y/N while being married? Yes. But did Bakugou care? Not at all. He was so drawn to Y/N it was like love at first sight for him. Besides, he didn’t love his wife anyway. They dated for a year and the whole time, Bakugou completely hated it. Truthfully, Bakugou dated her for her looks and the sweet facade she put up, but when her true self came through, Bakugou knew he was done with her. Unfortunately, before he had the chance to break up with her, his son Katsuo, was conceived. So when the news of her pregnancy became known to him, the toxic couple decided to tie the knot and get married. What a poor decision.

Bakugou decided enough time had been spent in bed and so he got up and got ready. Once he was fresh and clean he checked the time and saw it was 8:30. He made breakfast and prepped the table. Once he was done, he walked to his son’s room to wake up the little guy.

Katsuo Bakugou. Katsuki’s precious son. Even though he wasn’t planned, Katsuki loved his dear boy regardless. It’s sad to say the same thing can’t be said with the boy’s mother. Leiko Hotashi, Katsuo’s mother, seemed to have no love for the child, or anyone other than herself and money. She complained the entire pregnancy, she didn’t smile at the first sight of him when he was born, and she didn’t bother to be around the little guy either. Katsuo basically grew up without a mother’s love but he turned out just fine because Katsuki’s love was more than enough. The constant absence of his mother didn’t bother him and the child didn’t seem to care whether she was around or not. It’s sad really, but what can you do?

Bakugou walked into the room and saw a tuff of blonde hair that resembled his own. He walked to his ‘mini me,’ and shook the 5 year old awake.

“Katsuo...wake up bud. C’mon.” Katsuki said in a surprisingly soft voice. He was greeted with a pair of red eyes that copied his own and he smiled down at his carbon copy. “C’mon bud, breakfast is ready.”

Katsuo sat up in bed and yawned as he rubbed one of his eyes with his tiny fist. Katsuki smiled at the cute sight. “G’morning dad!”

“Heh. Good morning bud now let’s. Go. We got a nice breakfast waiting for us,” Bakugou said as he picked up his son in his arms. Katsuo giggled in excitement as Katsuki walked down the stairs and went into the kitchen.

The two sat down at the island as they enjoyed their breakfast and Katsuki listened to his son babble on about nothing. It was a peaceful morning for the most part. Katsuki’s morning always consisted of his crazy wife being a nag but other than that, he enjoyed his mornings with his son.

“So, I have to go to work soon and Mom is gone, but Y/N is coming by in a bit to watch you.” Katsuki explained to the young boy who seemed to light up at the mention of your name.

“Y/N’s coming?! Yay!” The boy shouted. Katsuo loved you. You’ve been his babysitter for 2 years and you already had the child (and his father) wrapped around your finger. Without knowing it, you showered the boy in motherly love, something that he never really got to experience. As we already stated, Bakugou felt drawn to you as if it was love at first sight, but seeing the way you interacted with his son just sealed the deal for him.

The two continued their meal and when they were done, Katsuki had the child wash up and get ready for your arrival. He cleaned up in the kitchen and by the time he was done, you knocked on the door. Bakugou felt his heart race at the knowledge of your presence and before he ran to the door, he stopped infront of a mirror to check himself. He fixed his hair and adjusted his clothes to fit more comfortably and then ran to the door. Before opening it, he placed his hand on the knob, took a breath, and then pulled the door open to be blessed with the sight of your beauty. “Y/N! Hi!”

“Heh, hey Katsuki.” You said as you stood at the door with a smile. You weren’t dumb. You always noticed how nervous Bakugou was whenever you were around. His crush was a little obvious to you and even though you felt something for the handsome hero, you never made any advances for the man. He was married and had a kid! There’s no way any sort of relationship was happening. Luckily, a very flirtatious friendship blossomed between you two and you grew so close that you both reached a first name basis.

Y/N L/N. A beautiful woman at the pretty age of 23. She was not only beauty, but she was brains, strength, and grace. She was a fierce and charming lady who had poison on her tongue but a fluffy heart of gold. The lot of you may be thinking that a 23 year old woman should be doing more than babysitting, but Y/N is still fairly young. And besides, babysitting was just a side gig. You had an actual career and owned your own dance studio but ever since you met the Bakugous, you just couldn’t give up on the little job.

“...Umm...Katsuki. Are you gonna keep staring or are you gonna let me in?” You said with a chuckle. Bakugou embarrassingly snapped out of his trance before speaking.

“Right! Uh, come in,” he said and stepped aside for you to enter. You nodded with a smile and walked into the large home, took a seat on the soft couch and you waited for Katsuo to come down. In the meantime, Katsuki always took the opportunity to make small talk with you.

“So..how’ve you been? It’s been awhile since you came over to watch Katsuo.” Katsuki said as he took a seat that was pretty close to you.

“Yeah, sorry about that. The studio’s just been pretty hectic with more clients coming in. Even before I came here, I dropped off some choreography for a heels class that I’m teaching tonight.” You said. The mention of your upcoming class made Katsuki a little excited. Your studio commonly filmed classes to post online for publicity and when Katsuki found videos of you dancing/teaching a heels class, he couldn’t help but constantly admire the view.

“Still coulda’ came by to at least say hi or something,” he said with a gruff but obvious sarcastic voice. “S’been forever since I- I mean since Katsuo saw you.”

“Relax dummy,” you said with a giggle as you playfully slapped his arm. “I’ve only been gone a week.”

Bakugou pretended to be in pain as he placed a hand over his chest, slumped in his seat, and scrunched his face. “Ouch. Don’t remind me. Like I said, it’s been forever.”

You both laughed at his little joke as he sat up straight again. You looked around the house and after seeing a few family pictures hanging, you decided to bring up another topic. “So..where’s the Mrs.?”

“Tch. She’s out at some random party.” He said as he stretched out his neck. You raised your brow and smirked at his answer.

“Oh? Is somebody upset he got left behind?” You teased which made Bakugou cackle a bit.

“Yeah right! Like I care about that nag. She could leave for an eternity and I wouldn’t care and neither would the kid. Besides, it’d just give me the opportunity to get a little closer to you.” He said as he leaned in a little closer and you did the same.

“Oh really?” You said with a smile.

“Really.” He replied back with a face that mimicked your own. Soon enough, his hand found a place on your inner thigh and gave it a squeeze. Your lips slightly separated with a tiny gasp and Bakugou definitely took notice of that. Things would’ve continued if it wasn’t for the sudden voice of a child.

“Y/N!” Katsuo said in excitement as he took notice of you on the couch. You and Bakugou jumped and quickly separated before the child could even get an idea of what was about to happen. You were quick to stand and greet the small boy as you crouched down to his level and gave him a hug.

“Hi Katsuo!” You said with your award winning smile. Katsuki watched from the couch as Katsuo went on and on about all the things he wanted to do today and the only thing that appeared in his head was a new family picture but with you in it instead of Leiko.

“Alright bud,” Bakugou said as he got up from the couch, walking to the two. “I gotta get to work but enjoy your day with Y/N, okay? And be good.” Bakugou said as he ruffled his boy’s blonde hair.

“I’m always good, dad!” The boy pouted as he swatted away his father’s hand. You laughed at their interaction and Bakugou chuckled before kissing the crown of his son’s head and walking to the front door.

“Bye Katsuo!” He said from the exit. You walked him to the exit and before he left he turned to you. He checked to make sure his son wasn’t watching before making his move. He grabbed your chin with his fingers to make you face him and softly spoke. “And I’ll see you later tonight, beautiful.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes at his compliment then said your thanks. You expected him to leave after that and so you tried to walk back to Katsuo but before you could, Katsuki pulled your wrist, grabbed your chin again, and pecked your cheek before exiting and slamming the door shut. You stood with a shocked expression as you felt blood rush to your cheeks.

Although you knew you felt something special for Katsuki, you knew he was married. And you weren’t no homewrecker! Even though some may see it as a harmless little peck on the cheek, you couldn’t help but feel guilty for his growing affections towards you. You sighed a bit before calming down and walking to the blonde boy waiting for you in the living room. You were going to enjoy your time with Katsuo but the return of his father stirred up a little confusion in your chest.

—

Hours passed. When you arrived it was 9:30 a.m. Now, it’s 10:00 p.m., and you expected Bakugou to be home soon. You didn’t really expect to see Leiko. Whenever Katsuki mentioned she was out partying, she never came back while you were around. It’s not that she was purposely avoiding you, she just tend to stay out into late hours of the night.

Katsuo was supposed to be in bed half an hour ago but his puppy eyes got the best of you and so you stayed up an extra hour to watch a quick movie with him. In the middle of the screening, he fell asleep on you and so you turned off the T.V and carried him to bed. After tucking him in, you walked away but felt a tug on your arm. Your turned to see Katsuo with sleepy eyes staring up at you. “Yes Katsuo?”

“Sing me to sleep again. Please Y/N,” the sweet boy asked. You smiled down at him and nodded. You took a seat on his bed side as you ran your fingers through his soft, spiked, blonde hair and sang.

As you sung Katsuo to sleep, you didn’t even notice the front door opening. Katsuki walked in feeling a little excited to see Y/N again but when he walked through the door he heard an angelic voice. He placed his bag down and followed the sound into his son’s room. Once he made it there, he stood in the doorway and listened to your voice and watched as you sung his child to sleep.

Your calming voice sent a blush to Katsuki’s face as he smiled and watched. Your voice was like honey. Smooth and sweet. The way you took care of Katsuo filled Katsuki with a type of happiness he never experienced before. He notice you ran your fingers through his son’s hair and Katsuki couldn’t help but feel a little envious of his own child.

“Don’t go away, stay another day~”

You finished the song and smiled as you saw Katsuo finally asleep. You leaned down and pecked his forehead before getting up to leave his room. As you looked towards the doorway, you jumped at the sight of Katsuki’s tall figure leaning against the frame.

“Katsuki, hey. I didn’t even realize you came home. How was work?” You asked. Your question made Katsuki smile, as it was similar to something a wife would ask her husband after a long day. It was something Katsuki never got to experience, even though he was already married. He smiled at you with kind eyes before tilting his head to signal you to follow him. You smiled softly and nodded as you followed Katsuki down the stairs.

—

For the past hour you and Katsuki had been laughing and talking. You followed Katsuki into the kitchen where he made you both some tea where you then both found seats in the living room. There, you talked some more and you both enjoyed the private company. Eventually, Katsuki grew bold and walked back into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“Heh, real smooth Romeo.” You teased and Bakugou chuckled as he rolled his eyes as sat down. You both picked up another conversation and eventually reached your second glass.

“Thanks for always taking care of Katsuo the way you do, Y/N.” Bakugou said with a slight blush. And it wasn’t just the alcohol causing it.

“What do you mean?” You asked, your face holding a similar blush for the same reasons. Safe to say you were both a little tipsy tonight. Not drunk but filled with a little liquid courage.

“I don’t know..like a mom?” His words caught your attention and your gaze encouraged him to continue. “Katsuo..doesn’t have the greatest mom in the world. I think everybody knows that. Honestly, if she wasn’t around at all, Katsuo wouldn’t even know the difference. But you? You’re like the mother he never got....the mother he should’ve got.”

You felt a growing heat flow in your face and you smiled at the sweet compliment. You can’t lie, sometimes you did see Katsuo as your son. You didn’t have kids but you always wanted some. Having Katsuo around was like having a son of your own. “Awe, thanks Katsuki.”

“You shouldn’t thank me, it’s just insane how you’re the actual definition of perfect.” He said before taking a sip of wine.

“Stop it,” you said and playfully hit his arm again. You both put your glasses down and he laughed a bit before continuing.

“No, I’m serious. I mean, c’mon you’re beautiful, smart, kind, sassy,” he began.

“Yeah..and,” you said as you both began to face each other.

“You’re great with kids, you’re good at everything, you have a steady career, you have a passion,” he continued.

“Mhmm..” you said while smiling at his words. You shuffled a little bit closer to him on the couch and Bakugou smiled when he noticed.

“...You’re perfect Y/N.” He focused his gaze on you as he became entranced with your E/C eyes. He leaned in close and you did the same. “...You’re the perfect one for me.”

At those words, you both closed the gap between you two and kissed. Your lips were pressed together for a few seconds before you both pulled away for the same amount of time. During that time, Bakugou kept his lips hovering over yours before pecking your lips a few times and then giving you a real, passionate kiss. Due to the small amount of alcohol in your system you happily returned it. Your hands found way into his hair and his found home on your waist. When you took a small breath, Bakugou slipped his tongue in and you both fought for dominance. In the heat of the moment, Bakugou carried you to sit on his lap and you followed his lead. Your tongues continued to tangle as Bakugou’s hands caressed your body.

They moved down to the hill of your ass and gave it a firm squeeze. You moaned into the kiss and it was music to his ears. Almost as good as the sweet lullaby you sang an hour ago. Soon enough, his hands traveled under your shirt and bra to fondle your plush breast. This made you let go of the kiss and throw your head back as you released soft moans. Bakugou didn’t stop and went into kiss your neck. He left sweet pecks before he left a few hickeys. His mouth moved around your neck before he found your sweet spot, earning a needy sound from you. Bakugou began nipping at the spot and licking the soft skin. His actions caused your hands to tug at his hair and made your hips naturally grind against his center. This made Bakugou groan as he gently layed you on your back on the couch. His body found way in between your legs as he separated from your neck and took notice of your flushed face. He smirked at the sight and his eyes traveled to your shirt, where his hands were hidden under. Deciding to change that, his hands left your valley of breast to push your shirt and bra up to expose your chest.

“Beautiful...” was what he whispered before going in to take one of your mounds in his mouth. You gasped and squealed at the sensation of his mouth covering one breast and his hand massaging the other. Bakugou continued to mark up your chest, leaving love bites and bruises all over.

“Ngh...Katsuki..” you whined. Both your centers began to grind against each other as the two of you were pretty much dry humping one another. Bakugou bit at your nipple, causing you to squirm.

“Easy Princess, I got you. Daddy’s got you, Love.” He said as he used both hands to rub soothing motions into your bare waist. You settled as Katsuki kissed a trail back up to your neck and whispered into your ear. “I’m gonna take such good care of you tonight, Y/N.”

His hand glided off your chest, down your stomach and down your pants. His movements had the wetness between your legs growing and his husky voice definitely didn’t calm it down. His hands slid into your panties and his finger took a swipe at your slick.

“So wet...and it’s all for me..right baby?” He smirked against your cheek.

“Y-Yes Katsuki!” You said as you attempted to grind against his hand before Katsuki pulled it away.

“Try again,” he said with a seductive tone. You were confused on what he meant but you were growing so desperate for a touch. His touch. So your mind began to scramble and think. Master? No. Sir? No. Senpai? Hell no.

“..Daddy.” You softly said. You watched as Bakugou’s smirk grew before he kissed your cheek in approval.

“Good girl.” His finger soon returned to your center and after running it up and down a few times, he slowly pushed two in. You gasped at his thick length as Bakugou pumped his hand in and out of you. Wanting to test the waters a bit more, he slid in a third finger as he picked up the speed a bit.

“O-Oh my god!” Your hips began to grind against his hand and Bakugou curled his fingers. “Fuck!”

“Feel good, baby?” Bakugou asked as he began to grind against the underside of your thigh. Your lower body began to slightly shake as his fingers reached a sensitive spot.

“Yes Daddy!” You cried out. You felt the coil in your stomach tightening, signaling a familiar sensation to almost be reached. Growing more riled up and wanting more room on the couch, Bakugou began to throw the decor pillows off the couch. The pillows flew around the living room knocking a few things over, including the family picture. The sound reached your ears and the sight of the broken frame snapped you out of your pleasured state. Your eyes grew wide as you finally came to and realized what you were doing. “Ngh, no!”

You pushed Katsuki off of you and pulled your shirt back down to cover yourself back up. Bakugou looked at you in shock and confusion as he watched you sit up and settle down. “Y/N...?”

Your hands covered your face for a second before rubbing at your temples for a bit. “No, I- ..*sigh* I’m so sorry Katsuki.”

“Uh..no..I-..I guess that was my fault. I’m sorry I just...”

“Ugh..no. Katsuki it’s not that.”

“I just thought you..felt the same way,” he said as he sat back and rubbed the back of his neck.

“No, Katsuki I do, really, it’s just...”

“So then..why’d you stop?” He asked as he looked at you with a nervous and awkward smile.

“Katsuki..you’re married. I’m sorry, I really like you but..I just can’t bring myself to come onto someone who is already in a relationship.” You explained.

‘Wow. She really is a perfect person,’ Bakugou thought to himself. “Y/N, if that’s the problem then don’t worry about it. I don’t even love Leiko, much less like that bitch.” Bakugou moved in to wrap his arm around your waist but you pushed it away.

“So then why are you still with her?” You asked. Katsuki smirked at your words and laughed a little.

“S’a good question,” he said. Right after those words left his mouth, keys could be heard opening the door and in came the bitch herself.

“What’s a good question?” Leiko said as she looked around. She took notice of yours and Katsuki’s presence on the couch, along with the bottle of wine and empty, used glasses. “Well? Is somebody going to explain? What was the question?” Leiko asked as she walked into the house, closing the front door.

Bakugou smiled at you with full eye contact before standing up and facing his wife. “Why am I still with you?”

Leiko raised a brow at the question and her anger began to boil. “What?” She sternly asked.

“Why am I still with you? I don’t love you, I don’t like you, I only stayed with you because we had Katsuo, our child which you don’t even love. In fact, the only thing you do love is my money, or more so, money in general, and yourself. You’re a conceited ass bitch who’s just taking up space in my life. You’re suffocating Katsuo and I by just existing and you’re holding the title of my wife, a title that Y/N should have. So why the fuck am I still with you?” Bakugou said with a stern voice.

“You-...You’re with me because I’m the mother of your child.” Leiko said with hesitation in her voice.

“Are you? Because you’re never around to be a mother for him. Katsuo doesn’t even care whether you’re here or not. Your presence in the house doesn’t make a damn difference. If anything, Y/N’s more of a mother to Katsuo than you.” Bakugou replied.

You grew uncomfortable with the situation and made an attempt to leave. “Umm..I think I should go-“

“No,” Bakugou began. “You’re staying. I want you to see this thing through to the end, beautiful.”

“Beautiful?! The only woman you should be calling beautiful is your wife Katsuki!” Leiko complained. “Not that slut!”

Now you were a uncomfortable but you were not no slut and you definitely didn’t take shit from nobody. “Excuse me?” You said with attitude but before you could continue, Bakugou intervened.

“Call her a slut again and I’ll blow your ass to bits. Let’s not forget, you had the title of a whore before being called my wife.” Bakugou said with the intent to cause pain.

“Well I may have been a whore but at least I never cheated, which is what I’m sure you were planning on doing with her if I hadn’t come home.” Leiko said.

“You’re damn right I was! Lucky for you, Y/N’s a good person so nothing actually went down but if she gave me the chance, please fucking believe I’d take it in a heartbeat. Matter of fact, if she gave me the chance to wife her up and make her Katsuo’s new mom I’d do that in a heartbeat too.” Bakugou said while looking at you. You felt your heart speed up a little due to his confession but you turned your head to the side to hide your growing blush. Bakugou smirked at the sight before Leiko interrupted.

“What the hell are you trying to say?!” Leiko asked with anger.

“I’m saying I don’t love or like you and I never did! And after 2 years of getting to know Y/N after falling for her at first sight, I can finally fucking say that I’m in love with somebody and it’s her!” Bakugou turned to face you as his wife’s jaw dropped. “Y/N, I’m fucking in love with you. Alright? I have been for the past 2 years already, ever since I met you. And to the bitch behind me,” Bakugou said and turned to face Leiko. “If it wasn’t already obvious, we’re getting a divorce.”

Leiko was fuming as her face grew red with anger. She began laughing in disbelief. “Hah, fine! Fine whatever! Like I give a fuck! Y/N you can have him and the damn kid! I never wanted him anyway! The damn brat just gave me an excuse to keep Bakugou’s fat wallet around. But when you come crawling back, don’t expect me to say yes Katsuki!”

“Well don’t expect me to come crawling back, ‘cause if I’m able to get Y/N to give me a chance, then I won’t be needing anyone else except for her and my son. You can get the fuck out now. I’ll send you your shit and the divorce papers to wherever the fuck you decide to stay.” Bakugou said as he gestured to the door. Leiko screamed some more nonsense that nobody payed attention to and finally walked out the door and slammed it shut.

Silence rang throughout the house for a few minutes after the official split between the toxic couple. Bakugou turned to face you with a small smile as he stood infront of you.

“Well?” He asked.

“Heh, well what?” You asked with a laugh.

“I uh..heh, it wasn’t the way I wanted to tell you but I got my confession out...” Bakugou took a seat next to you and took hold of your hand. He brought it up to his lips, placing a peck to your knuckles before speaking. “..I love you Y/N. I know I do..and I know this might be a bad time to ask considering what just went down-“

“Uh, yeah. A really bad time,” you said with a little giggle.

“Right but umm..do you...how do you feel about me?” He asked with a nervous pulse beating throughout his body. He had to know. Do you love him just for his looks? Did you just want to fuck? Did you actually feel something towards him?

You smiled before using your other hand to grab hold of Katsuki’s shoulder and pulled him in for a sweet kiss. Katsuki’s body jumped in excitement but his hands were quick to hold onto your waist. This kiss was sweet and loving and lasted for some time before you pulled back. You smiled at the blonde as he looked at you with anticipating eyes.

“I love you too Katsuki.” Before you could even process anything, Katsuki had already pounced on you and pinned you to the couch in a hug. He had his arms wrapped around your waist as he tucked his head in the crevasse of your neck.

“God, I’ve been waiting years to hear you say those words.” Bakugou said before he began covering your face in thousands of loving kissed. You giggled at the ticklish and loving feeling and just smiled as you allowed Katsuki to show you his love.

—

Time passed and you and Katsuki stayed cuddled up on the couch. Nothing sexual, nothing nasty, just pure love induced cuddle time. Eventually, the late hours of the night exposed themselves and so you had to go.

“Katsuki, get up,” you said in a soft voice.

“No.” You laughed at his quick reply and began to push at his body to get him off.

“C’mon Katsuki seriously. I have to go home!” You said with another laugh.

“No. Katsuo and I are your new home.” He said, making his body become dead weight to stop you from going.

“Oof! Katsuki!! C’mon!” You whined out with a chuckle. Katsuki laughed with you but you kept trying. “You both are my new home, but my old home has comfy pjs for me to sleep in.”

“I can give you one of my shirts to sleep in. You’d look so amazing in them, princess.” He said with a smile as he imagined how you’d look prancing around in his clothes. It wasn’t the first time he thought about it but just knowing it was so close to becoming true sent butterflies all over his body.

“C’mon Katsuki. You already made me miss my class, the least you could do is let me go back to my apartment.” You said. Bakugou raised his head to look at you with a grin plastered on his face.

“You stayed on your own free will. S’not my fault you love talking to me. Let’s not forget what happened after our long talk too,” Bakugou said, hinting at your scandalous acts with him before you stopped anything else from happening. You rolled your eyes at his words before he spoke up again. “Matter of fact, maybe we should pick up where we left off,” he said and began kissing your cheek.

“Noooo, Katsuki, seriously. I’m tired, I just want to sleep.” You said with a smile.

“So sleep here,” he bargained. You looked at him with a raised brow, silently asking him to go on. “I was serious about having you stay over. You can sleep in my shirt and we can both fall asleep in the guest room.”

“Both of us in the guest room?” You questioned.

“Yeah. I’d let you sleep in my room but I’m not letting that bitch’s leftover presence contaminate you.” You laughed at his insults but allowed him to continue. “And yes both of us. I’m not going to sleep without my princess in my arms.”

You couldn’t lie, the sound of falling asleep in Katsuki’s arms in his clothes was pretty tempting. After taking a look at Katsuki and seeing the same puppy eyes that Katsuo was able to persuade you with, you gave in.

“Fine.”

“Yes!” Bakugou said with a fist in the air as he cuddled in closer.

—

Bakugou finally let you go and allowed you to take a shower. While you were in there, he took a quick drive to the corner store and bought some compression shorts for you. When he returned he left one of his shirts and a pair of the compression shorts for you on the guest bed as he went to get ready for bed in his own room. You walked into the guest room and saw the shorts and shirt and put them on. You looked in the mirror and noticed the shorts weren’t even noticeable considering their tiny length and the large size of Katsuki’s shirt. While staring at yourself, Katsuki walked in wearing nothing but gray sweats. He took a glance at you and was drooling over your body in his clothes.

“...Wow,” he whispered but you heard. You turned to face him and smiled. You walked to him and wrapped you arms around his neck.

“Hey Suki, ready for bed?” You said. Bakugou smiled at the new name as a small blush dusted over his cheeks.

“Suki?”

“New name for you. Like it?” You asked.

“Love it.” He said and pecked your lips before picking you up and carrying you to the bed. He dropped you onto the soft mattress and flopped on top of you. You both laughed a little before getting under the blankets and cuddling up against each other again.

Time passed and Katsuki felt at peace finally with you in his arms. Like the missing part of him was finally filled in. You were so happy and felt so loved in the safety of his arms. Staying the night was definitely worth it.

“I’m so glad Y/N. I love you so much and I’ve wanted you for so long.” He said with your head tucked under his chin. You smiled at his words and nuzzled into his chest.

“Well congrats Katsuki. ‘Cause now, you have me.” Katsuki kissed the crown of your head before falling asleep. And when he woke up that morning to find you in the kitchen with Katsuo on your hip as you made breakfast, he smiled with a full heart as he walked to you both and remembered your words.

“You have me.”

A/N: Hey y’all, for a better experience with the story, I do recommend clicking the link where Y/N sang to Katsuo. I put two links in the story. The heels class and Y/N’s singing, (which is from Rio 2, Jewel’s lullaby) Don’t judge me, that’s the best lullaby ever😂 If you don’t know what a heels class is in dancing, it is basically...dancing with heels😂 Umm...yeah. THE ENDING IS SO RUSHED, IM SO SORRY!

TAGLIST: @sxcker4you @aomi04

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

Sweet Evening Breeze

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,042 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Naïve reader, Innocence kink, Oral sex, Unprotected sex, Previous bad sexual experience Summary: Being Jack Hotchner’s babysitter is a pretty great job. He’s an angel, most of the time, and his dad is so sweet and thoughtful, really takes care of you. Really takes care of you... *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Jack, buddy, time for breakfast,” you call down the hall for the third time. “We’ll play Legos later.” He shouts something nearly incomprehensible back, and you sigh as you stretch up, trying to reach the jam he likes on the top shelf of the cupboard.

Most of the time, the fact that Jack’s dad, Aaron, is very tall gives you butterflies in your stomach, but sometimes it’s just an inconvenience—like when he puts groceries up so high you don’t have a chance of reaching them.

“Dad did not say you could skip breakfast, and it’s not okay to lie. Little monster,” you mutter, and you can feel Aaron’s breath on the back of your neck when he chuckles softly. Whoops. You didn’t even know he was standing there. “I say that with full affection.”

He reaches around you to take down the jam, resting a hand on your lower back, probably for support. The bit of skin exposed by your stretching tingles at the touch.

“Of course, and so do I. Often.” You turn to face him, give him a grateful smile, and take the jar of jam.

“Thank you. Ugh, aren’t you miserable in that?” you ask, gesturing to his usual business suit. As Jack’s babysitter, you see Aaron in a suit almost every day—another thing that gives you butterflies—but you’re in the middle of a heatwave, and it’s 97 degrees in your little suburb of DC, which means it’s probably more like 115 downtown. That’s too hot to do anything, but especially in a suit and tie.

“It’s cool in here, but yes, I’ll probably be miserable the second I step foot outside.” You spread peanut butter on one English muffin and jam on another, laughing softly when a thought comes to you.

“Too bad you don’t have as much flexibility with your dress code as I do.”

At the start of this heatwave last week, you’d asked Aaron—after much nervous deliberation—if you could wear shorts and tank tops around the house instead of your usual jeans and a t-shirt or sweater. Your so-called uniform was self-imposed, because he’d told you from the start you could dress however you were comfortable, but you didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. You weren’t trying to show off your body, or tempt or tease, or anything like that; you were just extremely hot, especially playing outside with Jack.

He had agreed, of course, that you should dress for the weather, and that shorts and tank tops were fine. He also reminded you that you could use the pool whenever you wanted, whether he was home or not, and just thinking about taking a dip later is enough to make you sigh in relief.

“I don’t think anyone would be interested in seeing me in an outfit like that,” he jokes—sometimes people can’t tell when he’s joking, because he’s so dry, but you’re familiar with his humor by now—and you laugh again. It earns you a smile.

“I think it’s more important that you’re comfortable than what people think when they see you in something, but it would probably be a little distracting.” You’ve seen him in his swim trunks on more than one occasion, most recently with no shirt to accompany them, and you can attest to being very distracted that day. You were supposed to be keeping an eye on Jack, and you did, would never put him in danger, but your eyes had also been following the drops of water that dripped from Aaron’s hair, down his throat, over his chest…

You had been hot for more than one reason that day, and your butterflies moved a little bit lower.

You shake your head of those thoughts quickly, glance around you to see that Jack is still not in the kitchen. You sigh, and put the peanut butter muffin on a paper napkin, hand it to Aaron.

“I’m going to go get him, but have a good day, okay? Try to stay cool; maybe you can take a swim tonight when it’s not so hot.”

“Good idea. Maybe you can join me if you’re still here.” That was sweet of him to offer. You smile at his kindness, brush a hand over your head. You wish your hair wasn’t all over the place, clinging to the sweat on your neck, your temples, but humidity is not your friend. He doesn't seem to mind.

“Thanks, maybe I will.” He gathers his things to head out, and you steel yourself and head to Jack’s room, scoop him up, giggling, into your arms, and plop him down for breakfast.

The two of you spend the day inside, because even swimming is a nightmare when the sun is beating down the way it is. You play with Legos, watch a movie, do some coloring pages, and play learning games on his iPad.

At around three, Aaron texts you, lets you know he won’t be home tonight because of a case, and you mentally plan out a small, easy dinner for you and Jack, then a little more playtime, then bed for Jack and a swim for you after.

You tuck him in, turn on his nightlight, and close the door behind you, then head to your room to change into your bathing suit.

You usually wear a purple one piece with shorts over it, something you can play with Jack in without worrying about anything falling out, so you’re surprised to find a pale blue, floral print bikini on your bed—a very tiny bikini—with a sticky note on the tag.

Went shopping for Jack and this made me think of you. I hope you like it. - Aaron

The first two things to pop into your head are, it was so sweet of him to think of you while out shopping, and you’re really glad he’s not here to see you in it, because it only half-covers all the things it’s supposed to cover. You double check the tag, but it’s the right size, so it must just be the intended design. Your cheeks flush hot, but it also makes you feel good, to be wearing so little. Kind of wrong, but good in a way you can’t explain.

You grab a couple of beach towels and step out into the slightly cooler night air, sigh at the feel of it on so much of your skin. You lay out your towels on the lounge chair by the edge of the pool—maybe you’ll lay there and read or play on your phone after your swim—and then step into the pool.

The water is still so warm, and the contrast between it and the breeze that blows across the surface has goosebumps breaking out across your skin. You dip your head under the water, let your hair fall loose and luxuriously wet after being twisted up all day long, and when you open your eyes Aaron is standing at the edge of the pool; you gasp, startled by his sudden appearance, and then laugh lightly.

“Oh my god, you scared me. I thought you weren’t going to be home tonight?” You swim closer to the edge so you can see him better, and he crouches down to your level. He’s taken off his jacket and tie, loosened the collar of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves; your heart races a little at his proximity, and all the dark hair you’re presented with.

“Change of plans, we weren’t needed after all. I texted you, but I see your phone is over there; I’m sorry I scared you.” He looks you over, something calculating in his gaze, and then smiles softly. “You’re wearing the swimsuit I bought you. Do you like it?”

You can feel yourself flush, because you hadn’t anticipated him being home to see you in it, but there’s nothing you can do about that now.

“Yes, I like it. It’s pretty. Thank you.” He must be able to sense your apprehension, because he tilts his head curiously.

“If you don’t like it, you can tell me. It won’t hurt my feelings. Don’t be shy.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I love it. That was so sweet of you.” You reach out a hand to rest on his arm, don’t want him to feel like you aren’t grateful. “It’s just a little… revealing.” He makes a soft noise of contemplation, reaches out to brush his fingers over your shoulder, over the strap.

“I was a little worried about that. Why don’t you get out of there and let me see? I can let you know if I think it’s too much.” You appreciate that he’d do that for you, and you respect his opinion, but you feel really exposed in it—and you’re not sure why that makes you feel so uncomfortable and so good at the same time.

Sure, he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, but there’s no way he’d ever look at you as anything other than the sitter. You’re just too… innocent.

All the same, you nod your head and lift yourself up out of the pool; Aaron moves back, helps you up, and guides you over to the lounge chair. He sits, and you stand.

From there, he looks slowly over your body; he lingers over your breasts, your hips, then asks you to turn so he can see the back. You swallow, self-conscious under his gaze.

“Have you ever been this undressed in front of a man?” he asks, his voice low, and your breath hitches. “I can tell you’re nervous, that’s all.”

“Um. Once,” you say, flushing. He hums, brushes a hand down the length of your arm, and you feel a chill. You turn back to face him, and he pats the lounge chair, encouraging you to sit next to him. You sit, cross legged, facing him, nervous, but… also not; it’s hard to explain.

“Were you completely naked?” The way he asks it is so casual, but being naked isn’t casual for you; you can barely bring yourself to think about being naked, let alone talk about it. With your employer.

But something about the way he asks it makes you want to answer, at the same time, and there’s almost no one you trust more than Aaron. He’s always been so good to you.

“No. I left something on.” It had been a bra, gray with a pink bow in the middle. You were more comfortable keeping it on, and your ex-boyfriend hadn’t cared. He hadn’t cared about much, it turns out.

“Was it during sex?” The way the word sounds coming out of his mouth makes you anxious, and excited; you can’t believe you’re having this conversation, and you also don’t want it to end.

“Yes, during... sex.” He nods, brings a hand to your cheek and brushes your wet hair back, tucks it behind your ear. Your heart is beating so fast you’re surprised the world around you is still so calm, quiet. Intimate.

“How many times have you had sex, sweet girl?” You close your eyes, embarrassed. You don’t want him to know how innocent you really are, not when he’s so much older and more experienced. He’ll laugh.

Then again, this is Aaron, and he’s only ever made you feel cared about and safe before. So maybe he won’t?

“Um. One time.”

“Just one time? That’s surprising to me; you’re so beautiful.” You shiver, maybe from being wet with the breeze on your skin, or maybe because he brushes his fingers over your lips, or maybe because he called you beautiful. No one’s ever called you beautiful. “Did it feel good?”

You’d wanted it to feel good; it did, for maybe a minute, and you think about that minute all the time, especially when you… when you slip your hand into your panties at night in your bed, thinking about Aaron’s broad shoulders, his thick forearms, his hands, his mouth...

“Kind of. And then no.” His hand freezes and he frowns. His voice is abruptly less low, more serious. There’s a wrinkle between his eyebrows you want to reach out and touch.

“Did he hurt you?” It had hurt, but you know he hadn’t meant for it to hurt. He wasn’t mean. He was just so eager to finish that once he started, he’d stopped caring if you were feeling good, so focused on his own body. You figured that’s just how guys are, and it made you never want to do it again—so you didn’t.

“Not on purpose,” is what you say. He covers your hand with his, big and warm and careful. You’ve always felt so comforted by his touch, and tonight is no exception.

“What happened?”

“It started quickly and ended quickly. I don’t think I was… prepared.” You’re blushing, hoping he understands your indirect statement so you don’t have to say it out loud. He rubs his thumb soothingly over the back of your hand, reaches up with the other to touch your flushed cheek.

“You weren’t wet?” You exhale, a little shaky, tell him no. “Are you wet now, sweetheart?” You’re almost ashamed to say, but he is asking...

“Very.” It’s just a whisper, but it makes him smile a little, touch your mouth again. You could get used to that.

“Good girl. Can I feel?” That gives you pause, for a moment, but thinking of him touching you where you’ve imagined for months—it’s too good of a prospect to pass up, no matter how nervous you are. You nod, and he moves his hand inside your swimsuit bottoms, brushes over your core, slips between your lips easily. He never takes his eyes off of yours. “It would feel really good to have sex now. Do you want to try again? You’re always taking such good care of us; I want to take care of you.”

You bite your lip, and he leans in slowly, presses his mouth to yours for a gentle kiss. You make a soft noise of pleasure, tilt your hips so you’re sliding over his hand, and he groans—it’s honestly one of the best sounds you’ve ever heard in your life. It means he wants you… never in a million years would you have guessed that.

“I want to try,” you breathe, and you feel bold, so you kiss him this time. He pulls you close, deepens the kiss, adds tongue, and you moan at the feel, clinging to his shirt. “Aaron.”

“Let’s go to my bedroom,” he says, voice low, and he moves his fingers up to the part of you that makes you shake with desperate need, rubs tight circles so you’re panting, chest heaving; you nod quickly and he picks you up, hand still moving inside your swimsuit, carries you to the sliding glass door and pushes it open with his elbow.

You assume you’ll head straight for the bedroom, but he stops in the kitchen, sets you on the counter and kisses you again, a little harder than you’ve experienced before; you love it, try your best to match the way his mouth moves, and his fingers press hard against your aching bud, making you gasp with pleasure.

“Have you ever had an orgasm?” he asks, a little breathless himself, and you smooth your fingers through his hair.

“Um. I think so. From touching myself like this.” He moves his fingers faster, and you press your palm against the counter for support, move your hips against his hand. It feels so good, so much better than when you do it that you could cry.

“Has someone else ever given you an orgasm?” You use the fingers in his hair to bring him to you for a kiss, something you both moan softly into.

“No. I want-I want you to be the first,” you murmur, and he closes his eyes, exhales through his nose, and lifts you up again, this time carrying you to his bedroom and setting you on your feet by the bed. He looks down at you with eyes so dark and gorgeous, then asks if he can remove what little clothing you have on. You tell him yes, and he pushes down the bottoms, which you step carefully out of.

When his hands move to the top, you hesitate, always self-conscious about this; he leans in and presses delicious kisses to your neck, your shoulders, slides the straps down, and looks up at you with caring, gentle eyes. You nod, and he pulls your top off, too, leaving you completely naked in front of someone for the first time in your life.

It’s such a rush, you wish he hadn’t waited so long to initiate this.

“You are so incredibly beautiful,” he says, and with the way he‘s looking at you, you actually believe it. He takes your face in his hands, kisses your lips, then moves down your throat again, your chest—he pays your nipples a bit of attention, flicking his tongue, scraping his teeth, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. “So perfect.”

He puts his hands all over your body, sweeping over your arms, your waist, and he presses kisses to your stomach, your hips, your thighs. You want his mouth where his fingers were, but you don’t ask; it’s almost like he knows anyway, when he looks up at you from his knees.

“Has anyone ever tasted you?” You shake your head, and he puts his hands on your butt, squeezes softly, and guides you to lay back on the bed. “I want you to tell me how it feels, okay?”

Normally, you’re quiet out of necessity, because when you aren’t here you have an apartment you share with a roommate—even though most of the time, you sleep here whether you’re strictly required to or not. You’re quiet here too, because you’ve never wanted Aaron to know how he makes you feel, although now you’re really wishing you’d have found out sooner that he feels the same way. Imagine all the cool, quiet nights you could have spent on this bed, in his arms…

Shaking yourself out of the fantasy—because reality is literally happening, and it’s so much better—you nod, and he carefully spreads your thighs, leans in to tease his tongue along your slit, light and wet.

“Oh. Aaron.” He looks up, reaches a hand forward to twine your fingers together, and you squeeze them, moaning when he dips again, this time pressing his tongue inside you where you’re wettest. “Oh my-oh my god.” He leans in to press damp kisses to your lower belly.

“That’s right, sweetheart. I want you to come on my tongue—come on my tongue, don’t be shy.” Again, he slides it inside, brings his free hand up to rub you, and it’s not long before you do as he asks, shaking and tightening your grip on his hand. You’re almost embarrassed by how loud you are, but he is nothing but sweet when he comes up, whispers in your ear how well you did for him, how pleased he is to be the first to make you moan like that, to taste you.

He kisses your mouth so you can taste yourself, and groans when you reach for his head, hold him closer.

“Thank you,” you murmur, shaky, when the kiss breaks, and he rubs over your lips with his thumb like he did before, smiles softly.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweet girl. I told you I wanted to take care of you; I’m just so glad you let me.” You move your hands to the front of his shirt and rest them there, hoping he’ll take the hint, but he just gets a glimmer in his eye that makes the butterflies flutter low despite your very recent release. “Don’t be shy. Tell me what you want.” You flush, don’t know how to ask a man—especially a man like Aaron—to get naked for you. “Oh, there’s that blush. My sweet, innocent girl. You haven’t even been properly fucked, of course you don’t know how to ask for what you want. But I’ll teach you.”

He sits up, hovering over your body, gets his fingers on the buttons of his shirt and starts to slip them free. He has to unzip his pants to untuck it, and the sight and sound of that makes you whimper—you immediately tense, feel shame at being so vocal, but he just leans in to kiss you, soft and slow.

“You can’t wait for me to be naked too, can you? You want to see what a man looks like, feel what a man feels like. Don’t you?”

“Yes.” It comes out roughly, almost too low for even you to hear; you clear your throat and try again. “Yes, Aaron.” It earns you a slightly harder kiss, and he climbs off the bed to undress the rest of the way; your eyes are drawn to his erection as soon as it’s exposed, and he looks at you with nothing less than lust in his eyes. It makes you shiver and want to open your legs for him again.

“You’re staring. Have you touched a cock before—stroked it with your hand?”

“No. Can I?” you ask, sitting up against the pillows, and he nods, moves next to you, and takes your hand. You’re intimidated by the size of him, all the more so when he wraps your fingers around it, covers them with his, and strokes.

“Feels so good, baby,” he rumbles, slinging his free hand around your hip and holding you close to his body. He is so… just good looking, so different from your ex-boyfriend, from guys your age, and you look up at his face while you touch him, hoping to bring him even half as much pleasure as he brought you. Your eyes flick back down, though, after a short time, transfixed by the wet head disappearing into your fist. “Hmm. Good girl. Do you want to try putting your mouth on it?”

God, do you want to try that. You want to know what it tastes like, feels like on your tongue; you nod, scoot back a little so you can bend over him, and he puts his hands on your head, slowly guides your open mouth to hover over him.

“Careful with your teeth, and keep me nice and wet, okay? We'll go slowly.” He pushes your hair back from your face so he can see you better, which is sweet, and you nod, close your lips around him, let him show you how he wants you to do it.

He feels so big in your mouth, and you remember to be careful, to be wet, like he said. He’s not making you take him deeply, just a couple of inches, and when you’re not so nervous it feels really good, the weight of him against your tongue, his gentle hands teaching you what to do. It makes you feel useful, learning how he likes to be pleasured, and you enjoy finding ways to make yourself useful to Aaron.

“Perfect, perfect. Just like that—you’re doing great, sweetheart.” You hum around him, pleased that it feels good for him, and you’re stricken with the urge to feel him spilling into your mouth, but he groans and offers something even more intriguing. “Would you like to come sit in my lap? I want to press into your warm, tight, sweet pussy; I promise it will feel good, not like last time.” You make another noise, something eager, and he pulls you off and gets his hands on your waist, brings you up to rest against his thighs.

“Will it hurt?” you ask, just in case. You hadn’t thought to ask that last time. “You’re big; what if it doesn’t fit?” You look up at him, and warm, tender eyes peer into yours.

“It won’t hurt, and it will fit, I promise. We’ll make it fit. Lean up.” You stretch up a little, press your hands to his shoulders, and he rubs his hands soothingly over your body, kisses your chest, and then dips a finger inside you; you grip him tightly, moan, hold still while he moves it in and out, then adds another. “How does that feel? Don’t be shy.”

“Feels-feels good,” you breathe, and he pumps them together which feels so incredible, so new. He brings his free hand to your butt and squeezes softly.

“Good girl. I’m adding another. You’re so wet, it shouldn’t be a problem, but tell me if it’s uncomfortable.” The third finger makes you feel like you’re full up, a little snug, but you know you’ll need to get used to it if you want him inside; you breathe, will yourself to only feel the good, remind yourself that this isn’t like last time. Aaron is being so good to you; he won’t stop being good to you.

“Aaron.” It’s a gasp, a plea, a question, and he answers it by pulling his fingers out, putting his hands on your hips, and lining his cock up at your entrance, lowering you slowly onto it. You pant, moan as it slides in; it feels tight to you, and you’re so incredibly full, but his hands feel like safety and you’re not worried. He’s always taken care of you; he wouldn’t hurt you.

“You’re perfect, you’re doing so good. You feel so good.” He squeezes you, stretches up to brush his lips over yours. “We’re going to make you come again; I’ll give you the best night of your life, I promise.”

“Of course you will. This is already the best night of my life,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he kisses you harder; you can feel his hands tighten, and it doesn’t hurt, only makes you want more, rougher. You feel filthy for wanting that, but it’s Aaron, and you want any and everything he wants to give; you also want him to take anything he wants to take.

He moves your body up and down, a show of strength that makes you moan, just a string of desperate sounds you’re a little embarrassed of; he appreciates the noises you make, though, if the way he grips you is any indication, his eyes determined as he makes you bounce on his cock.

“Oh, yes baby, just like that. How does it feel, sweet girl?”

“Mmh, good, so good, so good,” you sigh, your butt making contact with his firm thighs each time he brings you down on him. “Feels so good to be… to have it inside me.”

Aaron hums, frowns just slightly.

“Tell me what it is, baby. Your innocent little mouth can be dirty for me, this once. What feels good? What’s inside you?” His voice is a little tense, like maybe he wants to finish, but he doesn't change a thing, doesn’t hurt you so he can get there faster. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, curl fingers into his hair.

“Your… It’s your cock, Aaron. Your cock feels so good inside me.” You’ve thought the word, never said it aloud, but it makes him groan deeply, so you vow to say it again at some point just to savor that reaction.

“Yes it does, yes it does. Feels so good inside your perfect pussy, my perfect, sweet girl.” His hands move you faster, and you want to help now that you know this is how he likes it; when the two of you work together, it’s quicker thrusts, harder thrusts, your breasts bouncing along with the rest of your body and making you feel filthy, indecent. Amazing.

You lean in for a kiss, and Aaron turns it into something deep and decadent, delicious; you pass moans back and forth, holding tightly to him, the both of you breaking a sweat even in the cool air. You’re so close, so close to the ultimate pleasure you felt with his head between your legs, and you can hear your moans change, eager, needy things.

“Aaron please. Please.” You take his face in your hands, look into his eyes, bounce on him and kiss him and plead for release against his lips, and he holds you so tightly and climaxes, spilling inside you and pumping up into you, breathless.

“Oh, good girl, you did that. You made me come, baby. Not so innocent anymore, are you?” You shake your head—you don’t feel innocent anymore, you feel good, you want more, want to chase the feelings you’ve felt tonight, including the one still building inside you. “Now let’s get you off. I want to feel it.” He digs his fingers into your hips, so hard you think it might bruise, but in your heightened state of arousal it just feels good; you keep moving until your orgasm takes control of you, makes you grip his hair hard in your fingers and slam yourself down on him.

“Yes, yes, mmm.” He brings a hand to your face, softly catches your jaw, and guides you to make eye contact while you ride him through it until you are both spent, sinking against the bed. He sweeps his hands over your body, kisses you softly, and you melt at his touch. “That was so incredible. Thank you.”

“I told you, you don’t have to thank me. I wanted to take care of you; been wanting that for some time,” he admits easily, touching your cheek. “I’m just glad I could give you a good experience after the bad one.”

“Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Your voice is light, low, because saying things like this, talking about sex, is still so new to you. “I love being here for you, helping you with Jack, and anything else you need. Do you think you’ll want or need me like this again?”

“Oh, I don’t see how I could do without, if it’s something you want. Although I may have to return that swimsuit. It is pretty indecent,” he says with a somewhat guilty smile.

You figured as much, and for the first time tonight you feel very confident when you say, “No, I think I’d like to keep it.”

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

earned it [02]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. mentions of murder, suggestive content, unedited fic

notes. err, i’m only doing this on impulse. i would like to continue it, but i think part one stands enough for itself :> i might delete this if i don’t like it a few days later lollll

series masterlist

Your infamous customer hadn’t arrived even as the restaurant closed. You watched close enough, fidgety in your movements and often bumping into other servers, all because your gaze kept darting back to the front door, awaiting his presence.

There’s no actual reason why you want to see him. Maybe it’s because he left an impression? The guy didn’t even budge after finding out someone had snuck into the kitchen to poison him, leaving you to wonder why anyone wanted to kill him. Not that it was any of your business, but you figured it was only common between powerful people who are equally greedy. Still, you’re unfocussed in your work, apologizing every now and then when your boss shook their head at you.

Thankfully, you managed to get back to your old pace. Thoughts of the white-haired tall man left the room at the same time everyone did, leaving only you and your boss in the locker room. You ended up working two shifts again on this weekend, your co-worker asking you to cover for them due to sudden family issues.

It’s tiring, that much is for sure, but you won’t complain when it’s more money down in your pocket. You’re dazzled, however, as you leave the locker room and see that your main chefs are still there.

Upon seeing you, they immediately usher you into a lone table, table 98 that remained untouched the whole night, a two lit candles illuminating the otherwise darkness of the isolated restaurant. Only this time, it’s occupied by him no less, his azure eyes flittering up to yours at the sound of your hesitant footsteps.

You’ve been looking for him the whole night, yet now that he’s in front of you, you don’t have any words to say. Instead, you bow down deep, the hands clasped in your lap shaking.

“S-Sir.”

“No need to be so nervous. I only wish to discuss something with you,” his laugh is so carefree, lighthearted as he gestures to the empty spot across him. “Take a seat,” Wordlessly, you foolow his orders and dash down to the seat, spine straight and head held high. There’s a hint of amusement in his small smile, but he doesn’t tease you, save for the lilting tone he held. “So you’re in sophomore year of university?”

“Yes, Sir. How’d you know?” You furrowed your brows, unsure of whether you’re supposed to expensive meal served in two.

Gosh, and this was on page three too, a single meal cost at least six months’ worth of rent.

“I pulled a string or two,” he lifts one shoulder lazily, waving his knife in the air. “And please, call me Satoru. Assuming we come to an understanding, things will go well for the both of us. You are in need of financial aid, yes?” You nod, utterly clueless in where this is leading, but Satoru’s already made up his mind long before he came here that he found no need in beating around the bush.

“Good. Then what do you say about being my sugar baby?”

“S-sugar baby?” you repeat the word first in confusion, then with distaste. He simply hums around the meat he’s eating, as if it’s a normal occurrence for him to inquire such things, and you scoff, crossing your arms on your chest.

You don’t care that this guy is your precious customer – he was just the same as everyone else.

“Is that the reason why you asked me to stay behind? Do you think you can just pay people to sleep with you? It may have worked on others, but not to me. I would rather keep my dignity than be with you,” you breathe hard after your rant, slapping your palms down on the table. The impact of it makes the table shake, his hand reflexively reaching to steady his wine glass. “As for what happened yesterday, you don’t have to thank me about it. I did what any right-minded person would.”

“And if I said I never wanted to be saved?” he asks, his tone still so calm that it further infuriates you. You stare at him, stunned and mouth gaping. “Sit down. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Thank you for graciousness, Sir, but I really don’t—”

“Angel,” You freeze at the nickname. He chuckles with his forehead pressed to his clasped hands, “Do you really think I need to pay people to sleep with me? I could have anyone I want,” his voice falls an octave or two, the sonorous warning rumbling something…alien inside your body. You stand there, unable to move, and he easily sees through this as he hides a smirk behind his drink. “Sit down. I’m not done talking to you.”

You don’t know what snapped in you to actually follow, but his words weren’t just that. They were always laced with eased dominance, the words leaving his lips coming out as a command. No, it was more like a hypnotizing order, and you’re nothing but a puppet enslaved by it.

His smile only grows bigger, and you hate that he looks ridiculously handsome under the dim lights of the room. Life would’ve been much easier if this man had been ugly.

“As I was saying, this relationship should be casual, no strings attached. I’d prefer if you’re exclusive to me, and in return, I’ll cover all your school fees and everything else. As for the sex,” he cuts his eyes straight to yours, an intense burning heat in them. You squirm in your seat, a little intimidated, albeit excited, by this proposition too, though you’d rather die than let him know that, “I don’t need that from you. I just want someone to talk to.”

“You’re paying me to talk to you?”

“No,” he chuckles, “I’m saying you form a relationship with me in exchange of financial aid. You’d be similar to a lover, nothing less of a friend,” he stares at his drink so hard like he was having a debate with it. A few seconds later, he found his answer, the gleam in his eyes surreptitious as he says, “Someone I can trust.”

You huff. Surely it wasn’t easy as that. “Why me?”

“No reason,” he shrugged, “I just find you endearing, that is all,” You lean back on your seat, trying to process all this. The hesitance must be written all over your face because he adjusts his tie, sliding a white business card your way before sliding his chair back in. At least he’s well-mannered enough to do that. “You can take your time to think about it. There’s no need to rush.”

Somehow, seeing his figure retreat triggers something within you. You watch as silhouettes emerge from the darkness trail after him; must be his security team, serving as an additional note that what you so struggled to achieve was likely nothing for him.

Was it fear? Desperation? Shame?

You don’t know, you won’t ever really know, but you run up to him anyway, brave enough to tug at his sleeve. The guards surrounding him tense up at the contact, stepping away only when he raises a finger that spoke a thousand words.

“You-you’ll pay for everything?”

With his back turned to you, you failed to see that victorious grin he wore. “And everything more,” he reassured. He turns around to confirm your submission, but you’re quivering under his towering frame, poor hands clutched around the card so tightly he won’t be surprised if you break it. He chuckles, coaxing the worries out of you as he caresses your cheek, his breath evident of expensive liquor hitting your cheeks. “Relax, angel. It’s not like you’re selling your soul to the devil.”

Your pupils blow wide at the close proximity. If he was attractive before, it’s nothing compared to the clarity of his sharp, angular features that are softened by his playful smile. Oddly enough, his thumb caressing your cheeks is tender yet calloused.

There’s no telling when who put who under a spell, because you’re clutching helplessly at his suit jacket, whispering, “Am I not?”

You are, he wants to say, but you’re so innocent, so vulnerable – such an angel, he can’t help but hum in his head – that he doesn’t have the heart to let you know. He already knew things were bound to fall out of place one another, but until that hasn’t happened yet, he’ll have to keep you close. He’ll make you his.

“I’ll take good care of you,” he declares so confidently that you couldn’t even question his capability to do so you, and for a moment, just a moment, your knees weaken under his stare. “Now that, I can promise.”

Should you have pulled away then? When he leaned down to seal the contract with a kiss, should you have pulled away then? Or better yet, could you even pull away then?

You’ve been so alone your whole life that each moment with him is awakening, soul-crushing, mind-shattering and so damn weakening that you should’ve pulled away then. If anyone were to tell you you’d share your first kiss after work hours with a man whose name you don’t even know of, you’d tell them they were crazy, crazier if they claimed you would enjoy it.

But you did. Oh, you did, you were addicted to him – his taste, his scent, his touch, everything about him – that when he pulled away, taking away every last breath in your lung that formerly remained taint-free by him, you’re left wanting. Craving.

And he knows this. How could he not? Your eyes are hazy with lust, chest pressed against his firm ones that would soon be the same body you found home over and over again. You’re not the only left intoxicated from this sudden agreement. Whatever you feel, he feels it twice as much after years of watching you from the sidelines, asking himself a million times over what it is about you that pulled him in so much in the first place.

The innocence? The dedication? The youthful naivety?

Gojo wants to laugh at himself. It was never any of those – he simply wanted to fool himself that maybe he’s worthy of this, of your love, of your purity. He’s selfish, manipulative, heartless, and he wants nothing more than someone like you to make him feel like he’s everything he’s not.

He steps forward to brush his nose against yours; breathing in the tiny gasps you reward him with. And he’s barely even touched you.

“I look forward to our next meeting,” he rasps, butterfly touches all the way down your back to hold you flush against him, letting you feel that he’s all muscle and hardness, while you’re the complete opposite, composed of softness and little ghosting kisses. Perhaps when he gives you by a name, he was right to call you – “My Angel.”

The loud blaring of your alarm cuts through the silence of the room, its shrill sound piercing your ears. You groan, blindly patting the bedside table to swipe snooze. The spot next to you has been cold for a while now, but it’s normal for Satoru to leave early for work that you burrow yourself deeper in the covers. Five more minutes of sleep shouldn’t be so bad; it’s the weekend, anyway. You’ve got nothing else to do.

Waking up after that, on the other hand, now that is an impending task on itself.

You’re beyond sore, your inner thighs littered with handprints and your shoulder covered in love bites. “Jeez,” you mutter to yourself, stepping out of the bathroom. Tying your robe around you, you go out your shared bedroom, rubbing your eyes to get the sleep out.

It’s past noon already – Satoru really wore you out. And fuck, you could barely walk. You had to grip the counters just to sit on the stools, and even then, you’re wincing from the pain.

He should be doing paperwork in his office right now or something; he never really told you what to do. You don’t feel like asking either since he’s made it clear he prefers to keep his personal life, well…personal. But nevertheless, you swing your legs back and forth on the stool, texting him a quick I love you baby :)

Satoru doesn’t reply.

Usually, he’d respond in a few minutes, always supplied with a wink and an eggplant emoji. It was so him to act this way, that when those few minutes turned into a few hours and you’re met with radio silence, you can’t help but worry.

You try to brush it off, ignoring the deafening silence that rings all over his penthouse. He’s busy, he’s working, he’s got things to do – that’s all it is.

You convince yourself hard enough that you’ve cleaned the place until it’s sparkling, your reflection bouncing off the black marble floors. Every minute, though, your mind would race back to him. Not thinking about him proved to be a really daunting task because you think of him when you’re eating, reminiscing the way he’d always surprise you with a back hug, muttering morning angel all over your skin just to distract you from your meal. You think of him as you’re killing time with boring dramas; if he was here, he’d nudge your leg with his foot, pushing your shorts until it exposes your panties. He’d make sure you don’t get to focus at all, riling you up and kissing you hard that the show playing becomes nothing but background noise. You think of him, you dream of him, you remember him – and yet, you can’t feel him.

Nails bitten down to the skin, you scramble for your phone, swiping call over his contact. It doesn’t go through. Now that’s another odd thing; Satoru never fails to pick up your calls.

“He’s just busy,” you lie to yourself, telling the same thing over and over again even as night falls and you’re staring at the empty left side of the bed, hands smoothing over where the curve of his body would’ve been. “He’s just busy,” you say once more, giving into the exhaustion brought on by your worries. “He’ll come home soon. He always will.”

Except he didn’t.

And that was two weeks ago.

“Angel, I got you—” Satoru immediately clamps his shut, his footsteps muted as he walks closer to you. You’ve been dating for a few months now, and you’re still very wary of the nature of your relationship so you refuse to move in with him. He doesn’t mind, he respects your space and decisions, but now he’s starting to regret letting you have your way. You’re hunched over your swiveling chair, cheek pressed against the opened textbook and glasses perched on your hair. The lamp desk illuminates the dark circles lining your eyes, his heart breaking at the sight.

Thanks to his help, you’ve been able to spend more time focusing on your studies. It should be comforting, but Satoru’s heart aches as he thinks of what you’ve been like prior to meeting him.

How long have you stayed up all night just to pass your exams? How long have you cried yourself to sleep, unable to handle the burden placed by the world on your shoulders at such a young age? How long have you had to turn down friends’ invites to parties with a forced smile because you had to go to work? How many times have you stared at a failing mark, teeth clenched because you studied well for it; your exhaustion just got the best of you and muddled your brain?

Satoru places the beer and dinner he’s got you on his way back home on top of your one-man dining table, pressing a kiss at the top of your head. You look so beautiful this way – unaware, unknowing, and focused in nothing but the future ahead of you that you don’t bother yourself with his past.

Perhaps…it was comforting, after all.

He’d rather have you worry over your own studies than worry about him. Satoru can’t stomach the idea of you – his precious angel – being involved in his own shit, possibly get caught between the crossfire. It pains him to say it, but he doesn’t want you getting too close for comfort.

So he stays there by your side, simply because it would expel all ideas of you wanting to be beside him. He’ll be right where you’re safe, and the sigh that leaves your lips when he moves you to your bed, fitting in his long, lanky bed on your cramped mattress an immense struggle. As if feeling that you’re finally home, you snuggle closer to his chest, murmuring sweet nothings that tug at his heartstrings.

Satoru rubs circles at your back, staring so hard at the chipped paint on your wall that he’s sure he’s got it burned in his memory.

Now that he thinks about it, he should’ve been satisfied with that. He should’ve held back in his desire to have more of you. He should’ve just tucked you in and left, but he was never really in control of himself. Before he knew it, he’s pulled in by you too much, encouraging him to move in with you under the lie it’s easier to keep an eye on you.

Had he just left you earlier…would things have been different then?

He’s asked himself this question too many times. Satoru always came to one conclusion. He loved you way too much that it consumed him, and soon the love he held for you slowly burned you inch by inch. The only way to save you was to pull away – but he wasn’t ready for that yet, not now – but he’s too scared, too deep in love that he ignores the warning signals and holds you close instead, finding comfort in the warmth of your arms.

Fuck. Satoru downs his second drink, glaring at everyone beneath his shades. Geto snickers beside him, sending side eyes to his boss every now and then just to check. Of course, Satoru’s not actually going to pass out, he was no lightweight, but he’d been uneasy every since that pretentious gold envelope landed on his desk.

One of the downsides of being a mafia leader meant you had to mingle with other clan shit, including him of all people. There were always new leaders popping out of nowhere, Satoru quote unquoting, criminals be spawning like maniacs.

For fourteen years – fourteen fucking years – his clan had been in bad blood with the Zen’ins. They were pretty new in the illegal side of business, starting off as a powerful name in the trade industry before they got interested in oil. One thing led to another, the family began to realize they could have so much more if they turned a blind eye to a law or to, soon shifting into illegal weaponry trade, human trafficking, then drug manufacturing.

These bastards had the audacity to insult the Gojo Clan when Satoru’s family dropped by to strike a contract out of curiosity to their goods, only to be turned down because they’re ‘barbaric’ and ‘informal.’

Satoru still remembers that humiliating moment of being escorted out by bodyguards, but he held his head high, vowing to show that bastard Zen’in guy that the Gojo’s were one of the powerhouses for a reason. He doesn’t even know where the elderly guy got his confidence from. Mafia business was not the same as their former expertise, yet they acted all high and mighty with their rules and standard of being sophisticated even in a life or death situation.

Gojo doesn’t know whether he should be happy or sad that the old man died, his son taking over just as soon as his father perished. He would’ve celebrated with a whiskey or two, except the new clan leader was quite adamant in cleaning up their name to prove he would not create the same mistake his father did.

The new leader threw a large cruise party, inviting pretty much everyone they were chummy with, and Satoru has never felt more out of place. He recognized a face or two, but he couldn’t really give a fuck. He hated events like this – it was all about establishing power and face.

Satoru groaned under his breath, swiping at another flute as a waiter passed by. He felt the bubbles fizzle down his throat, the slight burning sensation somewhat easing his nerves.

He leans back at the wall and checks his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. It’s been two fucking hours since they arrived, and the host still hadn’t arrived. If they planned on being ‘fashionably late’ Satoru won’t hesitate to slice someone’s neck tonight. He hates his time being wasted the most, and his eyes slid over to his friend’s still posture, looking like he just saw a ghost.

“Suguru,” he sighs through his mouth, “Don’t be so tense. This is a formal event – no blood will be shed tonight.” Suguru had a weird skill of being able to read Satoru’s thoughts that he raised his hands in surrender, silently promising that he’s not going to kill anyone.

“You’re not sure of that.”

“I won’t lose my composure, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he rolls his eyes, not looking back as he effortlessly places the empty glass back to another waiter. Satoru stands next to his friend, sucking his teeth out of boredom. Suguru, on the other hand, is tenser than ever, his eyes locked onto something in the middle of the crowd that began to cheer.

Faintly, somewhere at the back of his mind, Satoru hears someone whistle in signal. A few seconds later, the fireworks are lit and decorate the night sky, bursts of gold and beauty accompanying the entrance of the woman who’s so effortlessly caught everyone’s eye tonight.

Satoru is rooted to his spot, taking off his glasses the same time the crowd parts. Then, his breath is knocked away from his body, his heart pumping so hard he actually struggled to breathe.

Because you’re there, smiling and waving at the crowd as if it’s second nature to you. Seven years of being apart from one another and Satoru is still bewitched each time he lays his eyes on you. You’re the same…from your face down to the angelic feeling you always carried, but at the same time, you’re different. Gone was his precious angel who shied away from too much attention, his precious angel who would’ve never worn such a bodacious ring embedded on her left ring finger. Your smile is more charismatic, confident, and even fierce compared to the small, private ones you always shared with him – he almost couldn’t recognize you.

As if feeling someone’s eyes on you, you spot him leaning languidly against the walls, those lips you used to kiss turned downwards.

Seven years ago, you would’ve kissed him until he smiles again, singing to your pouty and clingy boyfriend who never voiced out the reason of his troubles. Seven years ago, he would’ve carried you and swung you around, showering you with affection as he reminds you how lucky he is to have you.

But this was no longer the past – that much is clear from when he left you without another word.

Still, you smile at him, an empty one that showed nothing but concealed anger. He was sure though, so fucking sure, that for a split second, he saw you light up. That may have been seven years ago, but you loved each other to the point of insanity – surely you still held some sort of fondness of him.

Satoru takes long, self-assured stride towards you, his gaze never leaving yours with his hands tucked into his pockets. There’s no telling what he’ll do, but in his mind, it’s clear.

You still love him, he still loves you. He’ll do something about it. It doesn’t matter what, he just will. That was until a young man closer to your age with blond hair and pierced earrings, narrow feline eyes lined with eyeliner hobbles beside you, his weight supported by a cane that Satoru stops in his movements.

He’d recognize that face anywhere.

The youngest and perhaps most mischievous leader of them all, Naoya Zen’in. Albeit not as hard-headed as his father in comparison with his rather laid-back and welcoming nature, Satoru knows a monster when he sees it. It takes one to know one, after all, and despite the heir being crippled from a former accident, his intelligence and power was not to be overlooked through his appearance and coy smiles.

In fact, he might even be more dangerous than his old man, this theory only proven when his arms snake around your waist. The matching rings gleam from under the light, and you press yourself closer to him to whisper in his ear, your attention very much still on Satoru.

Satoru’s entire body burns.

“Still there, Sir?” Suguru asks, gripping his boss’ bicep to hold him back. Smart of him, Satoru exhales through his nose, unable to stop his glare from darting to your husband’s.

He’s heard of you, of him, of how his most annoying rival had a phenomenal trophy wife who looked harmless at first look, but was actually the brains of most of his operations. Satoru forgets how to breathe normally because he’s heard of you, and the rumors he’s gotten wind of about Naoya’s trophy wife are nothing less of how dedicated and perfect the two of you are.

Slapping Suguru’s arm away from him, Satoru grits his teeth. “Get me a drink.”

His precious angel was gone. No, this woman that stood before him…you were an entirely different entity, something darker, something along the lines that were more like him.

What exactly happened the day he left you?

taglist: @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head tagging the ones who asked for part 2, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

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chuckbass-love · 3 years

Note

hii! I have a request for prompt 71 with Andy or ransom ☺️

Hey lovely, thank you so much for waiting this long for me to post this and i really hope you enjoy reading it just as much as i enjoyed writing it.

Prompt #71: "I'm gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, i want you to see how pretty you look when you're spreading your legs for me"

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Warning: Swearing, unprotected sex, rough sex, ass spanking, vagina spanking, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, daddy kink, breeding kink and angst.

Word Count: 3,486

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @sergeantbuckybarnes go check them out💜

In The Mirror

Standing in the middle of the master bedroom, you start to fold the freshly washed clothes before putting them away neatly in the closet. You start off by putting shirts away, Andy’s and then yours before moving on to jeans. Sometimes you wonder how he even has the room for his own clothes since you take up the majority of the space. But you just put that down to shopping trips he's so insistent on treating you to.

As you’re just finishing up, you hear the front door open before it slams shut so hard that the anger fuelling the slam of it can be felt even upstairs where you are.

Looks like Andy is finally home...

You decide to finish up with what you’re currently doing, taking your time before approaching your husband with caution. It was probably another run in with Neil, something you’ve grown accustom to dealing with ever since you met him. Doesn’t mean you don’t run out of ways to handle it occasionally though, your best option is to just allow him to vent before you distract him. Usually distracting him requires an old movie and takeout but other times it requires rough and needy sex.

“Andy” you call out as you pad down the stairs and into the kitchen, only to find him practically chugging a beer way to quickly. It must be bad if he couldn’t even wait until dinner to drink alcohol.

“You know sometimes i think why do i even bother going to work. I mean, Lynn sure seems to enjoy screwing me over for that fucking prick Neil and i’ve had just about enough of it”

Okay, now he’s really angry. You have no idea what to do or even what to say to him, you’re rendered speechless by his cursing and boiling temper.

“I was just about to make dinner, uh, lasagne perhaps. Or maybe we could order takeout again and rent that movie you were telling me about. It’s up to y-“

“Did you not listen to a goddam word i said? I don’t give a shit about dinner, do whatever. I’m going to take a shower” his decibels rise, his tone scolding as he storms past you and up the stairs taking two at a time until he reaches the top. You hear his heavy footsteps stomping to the bedroom and then suddenly it all turns quiet until the shower water starts to run.

Rather than leaving him to cool off, you decide to head up to check on him.

In a way, he was right. You practically ignored his annoyed state and changed the subject, in fact you couldn’t have changed it fast enough. But that’s only because you didn’t know what to say. When he gets like that, there’s not a lot you can say.

“Andy, i’m sorry” you squeak, stepping into the master bedroom to find him stood with his back to you as he removes his dress shirt and tie. His back muscles tense as he stands still for a second before turning around and tossing his clothes to the floor before starting on his belt.

“Andy” you mumble, desperate for him to acknowledge you.

“What?” he snaps, slipping out of all clothes until he’s in nothing but his birthday suit, his impressive size dangling between his legs.

“I’m sor-“

“I heard you”

You gently step closer to him, examining his face for any tell tale signs of discomfort before you rest your hand on his right forearm, “please, just talk to me. What happened today?”

“Like you care, all you seemed to give a shit about was dinner, so how about you go focus on that like a good little house wife and leave me to deal with the tough shit... does that sound like a deal?”

“That’s not fair, Andy. I didn’t know what to say to you, that’s all. You’ve had that many run ins with Neil lately that i lose sight of how to help you. But i’m here now, just talk to me. Tell me what i can do to make it better”

Silence.

His hand pulls from your touch, but before you can even understand what’s going on you’re back is already touching his toned tatted chest. His arms rest on your shoulders, keeping you pressed against him.

“Well, there is one thing...” he starts, moving your hair to the other side of your neck, freeing up some skin for him to feast on. His mouth nears closer, his hot breath fanning you torturously as his nose nudges at you. That’s when you feel his hands fiddle with the hem of your shirt teasingly, slowly lifting it up your torso with ease. You lift your arms in the air, allowing him to remove it before he discards it behind him without a care.

“Such a beautiful body, honey. Be a shame to waste it fretting away about dinner in that kitchen” you gulp in response, feeling his lips barely grazing the nape of your neck, the action causes a shiver to dance down your spine as his beard scratches you.

“Andy” your voice is nothing but a breathless whimper as you turn to face him, his hands instantly rest on your waist at the band of your booty shorts. Of course when he tugs at them, you know what he’s after now and you also know that no matter what you do or say, he’ll take it regardless.

He drops down to his knees, surrendering to your body and dragging your shorts down your legs as he sinks to the floor. You step out of them for him, even going as far as to kick them to one side before he pushes you back to the wall.

The palm of his hand gives your calf a soft squeeze as the other lifts your leg up to drape over his shoulder, your aching sex on show for his lustful orbs to focus on. The insatiable hunger is starting to drown out his mind, body and soul, he’s incapable of thinking of anything else but you, craving anything else but you.

He’s starving, desperate to taste you.

A couple more minutes pass with him peppering kisses along your ankle at first before moving up to your calf and then your thigh. You try to push him away due to the sensitivity there but he only forces you off him, he’s so much stronger than you could ever be and you know now that you’ve lost.

He presses another chaste kiss to your bundle of nerves before pausing and feeling your body react to his touch. Your shaking body begs to be worshipped and devoured whilst he begs to drink and breathe you in like you’re his only lifeline.

“Smell so good” he coos, poking his tongue out to give your clit a kitten lick as his nose nudges at your mound, the action causes you to roll your eyes to the back of your head. Whatever you did to deserve this agonising torture, you will make sure to never do it again. This is teasing at its peak.

“Please, Andy. I need you”

“Oh you’ll have me, alright” his response is quick yet snappy as he dives into you. His mouth latches onto your sex aggressively, sucking, slurping and biting. His beard scratching your inner thighs and it's sure to leave a burn there.

The tip of his tongue points all the more as he winds it around your clit rapidly and even with one hand gripping your hips roughly whilst the other strokes your leg up and down before settling on your ass, you still feel unsteady as if the smallest wave of pleasure could knock you to the floor.

His mouth right where you want him comes and goes as he takes breaks in between to come up for air, but right when you feel yourself getting lost in the feeling, it comes to a complete halt.

You glance down at him, eyelids heavy, chest rising and falling, only to find him rising to his feet.

“What the hell, Andy?” you ask, your entire body heating up.

“You sound angry” he cocks his head to the side as he grazes his hand across your hardened nipple.

“I am”

“Now, that’s exactly how i felt when i came home. Yet instead of comforting me like a good little wife should do, you made me feel worse. So therefore, you don’t deserve to cum”

What the hell is wrong with him tonight?

He shoots you a wink before padding into the bathroom, the shower water still running and steaming up all of the mirrors in your eye-line until he closes the door, locking it to prevent you from entering and leaving you standing there perplexed at his actions.

He did all of that on purpose. He built you up to the edge of ecstasy before leaving you to come crashing down all alone, all in the name of proving a point.

You reach for your robe off the hook on the bedroom door before storming out, brimming with frustration as you make a start on the dinner. Lasagne will do for tonight.

You prep it as fast as you can whilst the oven preheats to the correct temperature before putting it in and setting the timer. Now you can relax.

As soon as you throw yourself down onto the couch and flick the tv on, you hear the bathroom door open. You’re almost certain that he expected you to wait for him like a lost puppy dog but you refuse to play into his petty games of revenge. All because you didn’t comfort him. It was silly and unnecessary.

So for now, you’ll indulge in some reality television whilst you wait for dinner to cook and if there’s one thing that’s for certain, it’s that you are most definitely not putting out for him tonight. No matter what he says or how much he sweet talks you. It’s not good enough for him to treat you like that.

Whatever Neil did or said, that’s a work problem.

Andy can’t believe his eyes when he comes back into the bedroom only to find it empty. He wraps his white towel around his waist, covering up his modesty before heading out into the hallway and down the stairs. As he reaches the bottom of them, he spots you watching tv in the lounge, giggling away at whatever The Kardashian family are doing now, but whatever it is, he doesn’t care.

Instead of leaving you be, he stomps over “what do you think you’re doing?” he inquires, voice bellowing more than he intended “i’m waiting for the lasagne to cook, it’s in the oven. Enjoy your shower, honey?” you probe sarcastically, a rhetorical question. However your sarcasm infuriates him further as he picks you up with ease.

“Andy, put me down. NOW” you shout, kicking your legs and slapping his upper back as he drapes you over like you weigh nothing.

“Dinner is in the oven” you remind him, desperate to avoid burning it. But that’s when he puts you down before walking over to the kitchen and turning the oven off.

Your eyes widen as he approaches you once again, picking you up and carrying you up the stairs, taking them two at a time as he always does.

“Andy” you groan until he places you back onto your own two feet, his hands practically rip your robe off to expose your naked body before he does the same to the towel covering his manhood up.

“I’ll tell you what’s about to happen, honey and you’re going to listen” he informs you, stepping closer and moving you to stand in front of the mirror. You correct your abysmal posture as you look back at him in the mirror. A sinister glint in his eyes becomes crystal clear as a wicked grin graces his handsome face. His beard full, his hair still wet from the shower as droplets of water drip down his chest.

“I’m gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, i want you to see how pretty you look when you’re spreading your legs for me” the pure filth has you holding your breath in shock before exhaling dramatically.

He’s always been kinky but sometimes he still manages to leave you shocked. Although it’s times like these that you love him the most, the whines and whimpers he draws from you so effortlessly, the way he causes your body to tremble raggedly and most of all the way your entire world stops turning as he brings you to that cliff edge, pushing you off of it with his two large menacing hands.

He kicks your legs apart further before pulling your arms to the back of you. He hooks his arm inside of them to prevent you from moving away from him whilst his other hand massages your puffy petal like folds before circling your dripping entrance.

Once his tip is resting directly at the tight hole, he proceeds to move forward, the skin around your entrance catching onto him as your walls welcome him inside.

“Oh, fuckkk” he draws out the word, groaning and gasping for air as he drives home, the feeling overwhelming you to the limit.

How can one man have such a firm and tight grip on you like this?

How did you end up here, unable to utter out a single word as his pace picks up before he’s fucking into you so violently, snapping his hips with no signs of slowing down.

“Keep your eyes on yourself, honey, do as i say” he warns, and the moment you look up at him, you see the darkness and it causes you to look away, focusing back on yourself just like he instructed you to do.

The feeling of his cock dragging along your walls so fast is enough to cause the knot in your stomach to tighten painfully. The pleasure is almost too intense to bare, too much for your fragile body to handle. Yet you continue to take it, allowing him to fuck away his anger, channeling it into this moment.

His arm and hand tightens around your arms, holding you in place as he keeps his sights on you, watching as your mouth hangs open in the perfect O shape. Fuck, you look perfect like this with him bending you to his will, using you for the sole purpose of his pleasure and his pleasure only.

How did he get so lucky to be graced with you’re beauty?

The harder he snaps his hips into you, the more the coil tightens and the all too familiar feeling builds all the more inside of you. An ongoing reminder of your impending orgasm.

“Andy, i-i’m gonna c-cum” you tell him, begging for him to allow you the privilege of releasing, the privilege of creaming all over his rock hard cock.

A dark chuckle erupts from his throat, mocking your pleas for a release before tutting at you, the torment continuing.

“Please” you beg once again, only to be reprimanded with the harsh sting of his hand landing on your ass cheek “keep your eyes on the mirror, honey. You’ll come when i tell you to, quit being a brat”

The need to release is almost unbearable, tears of pleasure welling in your eyes and drowning out your vision before you blink, allowing them to stream down your innocent looking face for him to see. It only spurs him on more as he moves his free hand in from of you, kicking your legs further apart before smacking down on your sex brutally. Your body jerks in response before somewhat relaxing at the feel of him rubbing briskly at your pulsating clit.

“That’s it, honey. Taking that cock so fucking well”

“I need to c-cum, A-Andy” your voice trembles frantically in hopes of him taking pity upon you.

“Shhh, baby. Just let daddy fuck the frustration away, gotta fuck it all away” his words are pure filth but his tone is gentle and needy. He just wants to take his anger out on your body, channel it into something.

You can imagine that with the field of work he’s in that he finds it hard to keep his cool with Neil every day. Which is a shame because they used to be close.

Granted that was back when Neil first started and Andy mentored him, whipped him into shape and taught him everything he knows. And Neil is a better lawyer because of it. However, it also means that he’s just rude, obnoxious and cocky towards Andy, pushing him to the edge and taunting him a little more every day.

“Hold yourself back for daddy, you’ll cum when i give you permission to. Is that clear, honey?”

“Yes” you mumble, barely audible.

“What was that?”

“I mean, yes daddy” you correct, watching his eyes intently, searching for any sign of him letting up his tight hold and hard thrusts.

“Good girl, being so perfect for daddy and taking this fucking like a pro, huh?”

“Yes daddy”

Your eyes glaze over as you struggle to keep yourself in tact, the hold you have on your orgasm is slipping from your control slowly but surely and you know that if he doesn’t give you the go ahead soon then you’ll end up breaking the rules.

Something that will surely earn you a painful punishment.

“God, fuck. I’m gonna cum, you gonna cum with me, honey?” he asks, gasping. You throw your head back onto his chest, arching your back into him further. You nod your head as quickly as you can as you feel your knees turning weak.

“Count down with me”

“10’ you say in unison, his fingers rubbing furiously at your sex.

“9” the sound of your skin slapping together bounces off of the walls.

“8” the feel of his mouth latching onto the sweet spot on your neck, pearly white teeth sinking in to mark you up.

“7” the moans he’s eliciting are now flowing out of your mouth uncontrollably.

“6” deep grunts escape him as he pushes you against the mirror, causing your cheek to push up against it.

“5” the feel of him fucking into you tightens the coil for the final time, the feeling agonising.

“4” you scrunch your eyes closed, seeing stars as you arrive at the cliff edge.

“3” you say in unison as his thrusts turn from fast and rough to slow and hard.

“2” his cock twitches inside of you, your walls flutter around him over and over.

“1”

“That’s it, baby, cream all over that cock for me”

You let go, body shuttering as you stand up onto your tip toes. His grip on your arms lets up, causing you to fall forward, hands resting on the wall either side of the mirror.

“Oh god” he growls, hands splaying across the soft globes of your ass before he fills you with hot ropes of cum, breeding you unofficially.

He remains seated deep inside of you for a minute or two whilst the two of you struggle to regain control of your breathing, both of your hearts beating so fast that it feels as though they are on the cusp of exploding out of your chest.

“How are you feeling now?” you ask as he pulls out, turning to face him.

“Hungry for Chinese takeout and a night filled with fucking that tight cunt”

“Was that not enough?”

“I’ll never get my fill of you” he says, pulling your naked body flush against his “i want you all of the time and besides, that was just to channel my anger into something. The next time will be to make a baby”

“W-what?” your voice shaky as you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You heard me, i’m gonna spend all night breeding you, honey. Gonna make you all nice and round with my child. Gives me a chance to take my mind of that cunt Neil”

You nod your head, humming your agreement before pressing your lips to his.

Sure, you’ve had chats about kids before but this is the first time he’s openly suggested trying and even after his outburst, your love for him remains.

You can’t wait to spend the night tangled up in the crisp white sheets of your bed, filled with his cum.

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

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midnight-dreamerness · 3 years

Text

Savior

Chapter 2: Finding Strength

(This is NOT my gif. Credit to the creator <3)

series summary: when your protector returns, he finds you broken and abused and helps you climb out of the darkness

chapter summary: you finally have had enough and you find the strength to escape

pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

warning: mentions of death, acts.mentions of abuse, mentions of self harm

word count: 2.1k

Quitting the job you love was really hard. After your brother died you got back together with Kade after a short break in the relationship, you moved in with him. You didn’t have the best relationship with your parents, and it only got worse when Danny, your brother, died while overseas.

You walked into the apartment, your head bowed trying to hide the tears threatened to spill down your cheeks. He’s already home, you saw his car in his usual spot in the parking garage when you pulled in. You could also make out the sound of the tv playing in the living room.

You headed towards the bedroom until he called your name, making you turn and slowly make your way into the living room.

“Did you do it?”

There are empty beer bottles everywhere along with a half empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the coffee table. You sighed but nodded nonetheless, playing with the hem of your blouse.

“Good. Start cleaning. This place is a mess.”

And you did what he said, all day. He made you scrub the floor down with a scrubbing brush. You had to clean every inch of the apartment, while picking up the trash he left behind him all day. When night came, you had officially cleaned everything and cooked him dinner. You sat down at the table, ready to eat after not having breakfast or lunch all day.

“What are you doing? You think you deserve to eat? No. You're going to sit there and think about what you did.”

With sad eyes and an ache in your stomach, you didn’t fuss. You didn’t even say a word. You didn’t want him to see you cry so you held it in as much as you could. You hold back sobs, it creates a burning feeling in your chest and throat.

After you got home yesterday, Kade had been enraged. Accused you of cheating, he didn’t even mention you telling Jay about the abuse. It was worse because it was Jay. He knew your background, and how you fell in love with him when you were younger. Last night's memories were fuzzy after that. All you can remember was the agonizing pain and the god awful headache you had after he slammed your head against the kitchen counter. Kade has made you quit your job, you weren’t sure why.

Kade wipes his mouth with a cloth once he’s finished eating. “I try to be nice to you. But you test me. Every single day, you test me.” He stands from his seat at the table, coming closer and closer to you. You look up at him pleading with your eyes.

“Worthless. Pathetic. Get up.”

You do as you're told and stand up. He roughly grabs your arms, dragging you down the hall. You think he’s heading towards the bedroom but he stops at the hallway bathroom. He opens it and tosses me inside.

“This is your new room now. You should get comfortable,” he snarls. You're on the ground now, groaning. He takes the chance and shoves his foot into your chest.

When will it stop! When is enough, enough for him? Why am I not good enough? What did I do that made him so violent?

These things run through your head as he continues his abuse. Pain and suffering, blood and tears are things you have gotten used to.

It’s an hour later when he stops, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he stares down at you in disgust. You look at him weakly and in pain. You're almost positive you need medical attention, but you say nothing.

“Cheating whore,” he spits. With one final look, he’s gone. The sound of the kick in the bathroom door clicking, only making more tears pool in your eyes.

What has my life come to? When did it get this bad? How did I let it get this bad?

The bathroom floor was ice cold, even with a towel laid underneath you, you were still freezing. You know he bumped the temperature down, torturing you even when he wasn’t at home. You twirled the card between your fingers. His name sticking out along with his number.

Deceive Hay Halstead.

You remember fourteen year old you, rushing into your brothers room where he and Jay were playing video games. You remember how excited you were when you told the both of them you got the lead role in your dance group.

“I’m so proud of you,” Jay had exclaimed.

You wondered if he would be proud of you now.

Would he?

There’s so much history between you and Jay, a lot of things your brother never knew about, and now he never will.

It’s been days since you saw him. You can still see his smile and his perfect white teeth as he spoke to you. You can still feel his body against yours from that day he had you against the wall.

You should’ve told him. You're filled with regret. He could’ve helped you get out.

I wouldn’t be in this stupid bathroom if I had agreed to let him help me.

You could’ve called him the day he made you quit your job. You could’ve driven off, anywhere. Somewhere, where Kade couldn’t find you.

Yet, here you are. You have a few - a lot - new bruises that have replaced the old ones. There’s still a harsh pain in your chest and your stomach from not having eaten in days. You know it’s been at least a week.

He comes and goes. Sometimes you can hear giggles pass down the hallway to your shared bedroom. Then…you can hear him pleasing other women in your bed. The ones he would love you on, on good days.

But no…he is with other women while the woman he should be with is withering away down the hall.

You didn’t scream, you should’ve. You know that now. You were scared he would kill you or those girls. You wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself if something happened to them because of you and your stupidity.

So you sucked it up.

It’s been two weeks. Yesterday had to be one of the worst days. You recall the rage burning like fire in his eyes. He was angry, more than usual. Something must’ve happened. Either way, there’s no excuse for what he did.

The cuts along your back sting like hell. You begged him to stop, and it was a mistake. You should’ve let him beat you till it was out of his system for the night. If it’s even possible, he got angrier. He threw you into the bathroom counter, your back crashing into the mirror, causing it to shatter agains you. Your thigh had hit the faucet, creating a huge bruise on the back of it, but nothing hurt worse than the pain in your heart.

“Pathetic slut,” he snapped before walking out, locking the door behind him.

You sit on the floor only a day later, staring at yourself through the glossy flooring. A large shard of glass sat next to you, your eyes wander to it ever so often. It tempts you. Taunts you like a clear voice in your head.

“Do it.” It would say.

Then you would hear the sound of his voice. Familiar, warm, and inviting. Your heart aches. You miss him.

You can see him at the elevator, waiting for it to open while he looks at you.

“You’re strong. Remember that.”

You wonder why you pushed him away. Why you don’t let yourself trust the one man, that still lives, that would never hurt you.

A sob racks through your body as you pick up the large piece of the mirror and throw it across the room. An aggravated scream leaves you as you stand up with trembling legs.

How could I let this happen? Why didn’t I ask for help? The abuse has gone on for three years.

Your throughts were only “why” and “what if’s.”

He’s taken everything from you. Ripped you from your friends, your old life. You didn’t even notice at the time. You just needed someone. You followed him blindly. He told you you only needed him. Nothing - no one else.

I lost myself trying to please him.

You decided you're done letting him win. You're done letting him control your life. Your choices were dying here in this bathroom helplessly, or die trying to get out. You chose the latter.

You searched around the room in a haste, looking for anything to break the doorknob off. Your eyes trained on the top of the toilet. You take it off, arms falling at the weight. You are weak from the two weeks with no food, but you still find it in yourself to raise it over your head and lm it down in the knob.

You weren’t sure the exact time, but Kade would be home soon. So you knew you had to hurry

One hit didn’t seem to do it, so you raise it again and with a grunt, you use all your strength to slam it back down again. Your mouth falls open in surprise when the knob falls to the floor with a loud clanking noise.

It took you a moment, but you dropped the lid and rushed out of the bathroom. You made your way to the home phone, picking it up with shaky hands.

You're hit with a wave of dizziness, but you still dial the number you now know by heart. You were filled with hope when he answered after a couple of rings.

“Halstead.”

“JJ?”

There was a silence on the other end of the phone for a second, but soon he repeats your name.

“I want out. P-Please help me,” you beg, tears streaming down your face as you pathetically spike.

“Address. I need an address.”

The sound of the front door unlocking catches your attention. Your body goes ridged, frozen in place.

Jay repeats your name a couple of times.

“No. No,” you mutter as you begin to back away.

“Hey! What’s going on? I need an address, sweetheart.”

You somehow manage to tell him the address with a, “please hurry,” at the end. You hang up, throwing the phone to the side. You're filled with dread as Kade stumbles into the room, pulling at his tie. You're starting to regret what you just did.

Kade narrows his eyes, ripping his tie from his neck.

“How the hell did you get out?”

He stalks towards you, and although your first instinct is to run, you stay put. You're done taking the abuse.

“I’m done, Kade. We’re done.” You stand your ground, head held high and a new found confidence in your words. He laughs. It’s evil and sickening.

“We’re done? I say when we’re done!” He exclaims, his hand rising and connecting with your face before you had the chance to move. You fall to the floor from the power of the slap. Although you act confident and strong, you're weak. Two weeks without food would be the cause. It didn’t help that you were still in pain from the most recent beating.

You let out a cry as he pulls your hair back with a huff. “When will you learn?” He asked, pulling your head back so you were facing him.

“You look pathetic,” he laughs. You're slapped in the face once more before being dragged towards the kitchen by your throat. You grabbed at him, your instincts kicking in.

“God, your stupid,” he spat, shoving you into the table. Your eyes widen as you feel your skirt, the same one you’ve worn for two weeks now, being pulled around your hips. You felt hopeless now. You only hoped Jay would be here soon.

“At least you're good for something.” You heard him mutter before the sound of his zipper being undone filled your ears. You clamped your legs together and attempted to move, but it was no use. He overpowered you easily. You cried softly as he moved closer and held you down with a deadly grip on your bruised and cut back.

There’s a knock on the door that paused Kade’s actions. He hissed and pulled away, fixing himself.

“Who the hell did you call? Did you call someone?”

The look of fury in his eyes was enough to have you cowering in fear. A scream rips from your throat as he grabs you by your hair again.

“CPD! Open up!” You heard his familiar voice. The same voice you heard as you laid on the bathroom floor.

Kade’s grip on you tightens. “I’m going to kill you, you little bitch.”

A/N: Small cliffhanger? Yep. Chapter 3 should be out Tusedsy! If you want added to the Saviors taglist let me know!

@miranada0102 @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @kelelas-life

(Not sure why some of these didn’t work.)

#chicago pd #chicago pd imagines #jay halstead #jay halstead imagines #jay halstead x reader #one chicago #detective jay halstead #jay halstead one shots #chicago pd x reader #dom jay halstead

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Text

𝘼𝙐𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙨 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩

i wanted to use this picture so badly but I knew it would ruin the mood.

∘ request(s):

"ayo? they’re not sleeping with anyone else??? does that mean???? raw??? w edgy karl????????

"ooooo i’m lacking in edgy karl content😩 for the next one could you do one where maybe the reader is being a brat and karl puts them in their place? if that makes sense?"

"Ever since I read your edgy Karl x reader I been getting massive brainrot where reader is just questioning their relationship and Karl is just dismissive about it. It feels great to get that off my chest. 😭"

∘ pairing: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader

∘ warnings: nsfw (18+ minors dni), smut, prostitution (sort of), drinking, Todd the frat boy, crude/suggestive language, degradation, asphyxiation, spitting, angst

∘ word count: ~5k

∘ links: 𐐪 ao3 𐑂 𐐪 previous part 𐑂 𐐪 submit an edgy!karl edit 𐑂

∘ song recommendation: Come Here by Dominic Fike

a/n: y'all really drive this series oml. thank you to all your requests! should I do song recs on these or is that dumb? happy reading :)

♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

You adjusted your dress, attempting to not look as unkempt as you felt. Your hair had luckily survived the bus ride to Karl’s, yet your clothing was wrinkled from being smashed against various girls with the same destination in mind. You scoffed to yourself as you leaned against the side of the house, tugging your heel into a more comfortable position as one of the women in the group knocked on the large door.

It felt like there was always some random party blaring out of the windows, so you were surprised to be mixed into an excited group of girls waiting to be invited in by one of the Brothers. The only time when you’d been over to visit Karl and there wasn’t some kind of celebration of a random event was directly before spring break.

A nameless member dressed in a tux answered the door and you bit back a laugh as he welcomed everyone into the foyer. As you scanned the crowd for Karl, you noticed the number of older people lounging about in formal attire. You furrowed your brows slightly, knowing that Todd was probably behind whatever cultist bullshit was about to happen.

You wracked your brain trying to remember if Karl had mentioned anything about the importance tonight, but knowing the two of you, he’d probably begun to tell you only for him to get distracted.

A familiar laugh drew your attention to one corner of the living room where a man who looked dangerously like Karl playfully shrugged out of the grasp of another frat member. His nails were bare and he lacked any piercings, his hair even tamed so it fell just right over his forehead. You couldn’t deny the way your mind ran absolutely feral at the view of him, as if you’d stepped into some strange alternate universe where Karl was actually Carl.

As someone else struck up the conversation in his group, he turned to look over the crowd, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. His eyes brightened as he spotted you in the mix of the group. Whoever had let you into the house handed you and the rest of the people a brochure, something you then realized most of the room was holding.

You snorted slightly as you read, “46th ANNUAL MEMBER AUCTION,” printed boldly across the front page in elegant script. Your stomach twisted slightly at the discovery. You flipped open the pamphlet, seeing a list of numbers and the names of corresponding Brothers.

Karl was 23.

“I didn’t even sign up, honestly,” a voice called in your ear as Karl leaned over your shoulder, peering at the page in your hands. His cologne was more expensive than he usually wore, made obvious by the way it complemented his natural scent with a fuller smell.

You turned slightly, nearly leaning into his warm breath above you as you moved to look at him. “Come on, let them pimp you out,” you joked, your finger underlining one of the details on the back. “It’s for the frat Karl,” you mocked, making him roll his eyes playfully. “You look awfully pretty to not have signed up,” you chided, a small amount of jealousy tugging in your chest.

He ran his tongue across his teeth, his eyes dancing with mischief as he looked down at you. “Do you want me to?”

You shrugged. “You know how loyal I am to this frat. I think it’s only right,” you continued to josh, eliciting a low chuckle from him. The smell of his whiskey hung beautifully on him. You’d be damned not to acknowledge what a catch he was.

He pulled his hand from his pocket and settled it on the small of your back, the two of you mumbling to each other as you headed towards the kitchen so he could pour you a drink. As he explained the process of the auction, your nerves started to change drastically. Luckily, your exterior kept this from Karl because you weren’t even sure yourself why you could be feeling so strongly about the event. “... Really, only the married guys get out of it without being heckled all night. It’s… I don’t know. It’s pretty lame.”

“So basically, it’s an event where the guys objectify themselves in the name of the frat." You jested, your eyes glued on his pinky ring, the only symbol of the Karl you knew. "Have you done this before?”

Karl shook his head. “I wasn’t old enough, thank God.” He leaned against the counter beside you, his back to the circulating groups of people so he was only looking at you. As he slouched, he matched your height.

You reached forward, taking the unbuttoned collar of his white shirt between your finger pads. “I’m trying to decide if I’m scared or aroused by this version of you,” you tittered, wanting so badly to feel his teeth against your skin. He smirked at you. “It’s like Wonderbread you. Like you’d have to sign a contract with me before you gave me a hug,” you teased further, making the smug look on his face twist into a laugh.

He leaned closer to you, his hand brushing to lay against the curve of your hip. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I can still rip you in half.”

You took a sip of the Brandy in your glass to hide the moan wanting to rip through your throat at the closeness of him. His lips brushed against your skin before pressing a kiss behind your ear subtly. You nudged him away from you reluctantly as Todd strolled into the kitchen, arms raised slightly as if he’d been searching the high heavens for Karl.

He moved to stand between the two of you, reaching for a decanter of a liquid you couldn’t place. Karl crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Karl, I have been looking everywhere for you.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small pin with Karl’s number on it and nudging it towards him on the counter. “You know, it’s kind of fun that partners can’t bid because-” he paused before wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against his side. You let out a laugh, resting your hand against his chest as Karl’s eyes darkened at the two of you. “-Your lovebug can have me tonight then, huh?” He mocked, smirking.

“Well, technically, I’m not his partner…” you added, pretending to touch Todd flirtatiously.

Todd’s arms pulled you closer. “You know what I mean, Princess.” You snickered, pushing him off of you as he moved to lean against the sink behind you. “Come on, Karl. I’m practically handing you the opportunity to hook up with MILFs, random TAs, and sorority girls,” he begged, making Karl pinch the bridge of his nose.

“That does sound intriguing,” you chimed, making Karl giggle mildly.

Todd’s eyes lit up with a sarcasticness as if you were actually promoting the idea. “You can go instead if you want to, babygirl,” he offered, tilting his head in an action to resemble a car salesman.

You looked to Karl with raised eyebrows and he shook his head in disbelief at the stupidity of whatever banter you and Todd were striking up. “That would be fun! Please, illegally pimp me out instead. I want to be solicited-”

Todd’s hand reached out to clamp over your mouth. “Okay stop.” He straightened his tie and the pin on his lapel in the shape of a number 12. You quietly wondered who were in the top places and what they were doing to be in those spots. “Karl, you’re a legacy dick. Most of those women out there probably hooked up with your family members and are back for more of that sweet sweet Jacobs-”

Karl cut him off gruffly. “-I’ll do it if you don’t finish that sentence and never bring that to my attention again.” Todd pretended to zip his lips before pointing to the pin and walking off. You took the pin in your hands, trying to ignore the shakiness of your fingers as you pinned it onto his jacket. “You know his name is actually Mark, right? He pretended to be a Romney for his first two years here.”

You snorted. “Don’t feed me that information right now.” You wet your lips, feeling his eyes on you as you brushed your hands down his lapels. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to… I was just joking.” You chewed the inside of your cheek. “Like, we can leave if you want,” you offered softly.

Karl chuckled, moving his hands up to rest over yours. “Someone’ll pay fifty bucks to take me to some dodgy hotel for ten minutes. It’ll be okay,” he assured. “Maybe I'll have fun, who knows.” He drew you closer once again. You swore you could get drunk off the intoxicating allure of his breath. “I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”

You furrowed your brows, suddenly worried about having that conversation with him. “If you’re okay with it, I am,” you answered quietly, sending him a small shrug.

He popped a piece of gum in his mouth, shrugging back at you.

Everyone began to gather around the grand piano in one corner of the living room. You could suddenly feel the heat of the massive fireplace against your bare legs as Karl rested an arm against the wall above you, leaning over you slightly. “How much would you bid on me, if you could?” He whispered as Todd explained some rules to the bidders.

You looked up at him reaching up to play with his lot number. You hummed slightly in mock thought. “Maybe a packet of ramen, a Speedway rewards card, and…” you trailed off before digging into your purse and grabbing a handful of quarters, “five dollars in linty coins?” You joked, sending him an innocent smile.

He bit back a laugh. “I feel like you’re the only one that knows my true value,” he quipped sarcastically.

As the auction began to kick off, men were being bought for various currencies, from picnics in the park to gala dates and etcetera. The tension in your shoulders began to cool as there were fewer ambiguous payments. The women and men that paid sums of money were the ones that worried you the most. Karl’s hand slithered up your back until he reached the back of your neck, pressing his fingers into your skin almost possessively.

You focused on the crowd, trying to notice any peering eyes cutting into Karl, but no one seemed to have the slightest clue. Karl’s fingers worked at a knot in your neck, making you want to moan at his touch. You hated being this close to him and unable to mark him as your own. He pulled you closer, pressing his lips to the skin on your shoulder that wasn’t covered by your dress. “Relax,” he whispered, heat raking through your body at the sound of his voice.

Finally, his number came up. Before the auctioneer could finish introducing him, a handful of sorority girls sparked up with heavy numbers in the air. Your eyes widened and you could feel Karl stiffen behind you at their urgency. As their bids began to grow and add zeros, your heart began to beat in your ears.

“$5000.” Your mouth grew dry as the number halted the noise in the room. Bewilderedly, you searched the room until your eyes landed on a woman in her early-50s. You couldn’t help your mouth slightly fall open. “I’d like to bid $5000,” she repeated. You downed the rest of your Brandy, letting the alcohol sting your throat and warm your stomach. As Karl’s turn closed, your mind went blank. What did I expect to happen? You scorned.

After about an hour, the bidding was over. You plastered on a smile after everyone exited the room, standing before Karl and spending the time you had left letting your mind race with emotion. “What’s wrong?” Karl asked, nudging your arm with his elbow.

You swatted him off. “You excited to spend time with your new mommy?” You chided, making him raise his eyebrows. Your voice came out a bit more condescending than you’d intended.

Something dark flitted across his expression. “Definitely.” He pressed closer to your ear again. “I bet she cums on the slow stroke,” he leered, making you inch away from him. He giggled slightly at his own joke, before noticing your quietness. “What?”

“Nothing,” you mumbled, unable to explain just how you were feeling about the situation. It was as if reality had seeped into your bones at what had happened.

Karl ran his fingers against his bottom lip as he looked at you, the skin flushing a deeper red. You’d seen the color too many times to count, but it was usually due to stimulation from you. “Don’t be like that. What’s going on?” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms softly. This seemed to only further allure him. “If you’re gonna act like a brat, I’ll start treating you like a brat,” he whispered, perking your attention. You let your eyes wander back to the ground. He took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him. His calm expression added arousal to your swimming cauldron of feelings.

You pulled out of his grasp. You bit your tongue, grasping at your thoughts and searching for what you wanted to tell him. His grey irises swirled with some kind of worry and what you could only describe as fondness. Instead, you chickened out. “Just use protection, okay?” You faltered.

His features remained quiet as if in thought. In one swift movement, his hand brushed against your jaw, pressing his lips against yours. Your whole body relaxed into his touch, your eyes closing to relish in the feeling of silent loyalty to you. As his tongue brushed against your lips, it was as if he was stating just what you meant to him. If you weren’t in the right mind, you’d moan a gracious pledge of your mutual devotion into his mouth.

He pulled away shortly, leaving you flushed and winded as he reached his thumb up to swipe away the smearing of your lipstick. “I’m in your fuckin’ pocket, remember?” He acquiesced almost emotionlessly, before dropping his hands and letting you stumble. You had to will your body not to grin at what he’d said as the woman who bid on him approached the two of you.

She shook hands with both of you talking about the thrill of the event and how she’s gone for the last couple of years. “Ma’am, he’s a virgin. Please be careful,” you noted as Karl helped her into her coat. Karl’s eyes shot daggers into you, biting back a laugh of his.

The woman giggled with her whole chest. “Oh, darling. That won’t be an issue,” she gasped as she caught her breath. You covered your mouth with your hand to hide your smile as you made eye contact with an ill-looking Karl.

You opted to head back to your apartment, eyeing the clock each time you get an odd feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your roommate had gone out for the night, leaving you to stew in your own thoughts. As two hours passed, you were beginning to feel phantom notifications from your phone, your heart skipping with faltering hope.

As if your prayers had finally been answered, a brief knock at your door sent you jumping over the back of the couch and tugging on a hoodie before you threw open the door. Karl stood leaning against the frame and cracking his knuckles. He eyed you curiously as he noticed your urgency. His shirt was barely buttoned and untucked, hair ruffled and curling here and there. As you let him into your apartment, your mouth grew dry with anticipation. Karl slumped onto your couch, kicking his feet up on your coffee table and raising an eyebrow at you.

You wet your lips, sitting on the arm of a chair near his side of the couch. “How was it?” You asked. “Did you learn anything?”

He scoffed, humor dancing behind his eyes. “You will never guess where I was.” You furrowed your brows at him as if it wasn’t obvious. To this he shook his head, sitting up to lean his elbows on his knees, reaching forward to pull you into the empty spot beside him. “So, that woman owns an art studio downtown and she holds classes for whoever. The nail polish girl in my art class is like the right-hand man to that woman and she caught wind of the auction,” he paused to loosen a few more of his buttons. “The woman has always gone to the auction, but the girl knew I was participating this year and recommended me.”

“Okay, so… You were in an art class all night?” You probed, making him grin smugly at you.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Not exactly.”

You snorted, leaning into the cushions and turning towards him. “They weren’t drawing you nude were they?” You joked sarcastically, the mental image proving to be almost unthinkable. His eyes shifted to his lap as he chuckled and you punched his arm. “You’re kidding!”

He shook his head, biting back a grin. “I had old dudes staring at my dick for two hours straight and trying to recreate it in charcoal.” You covered your mouth with your hand, waiting for him to reveal that he was joking. “They liked my cheekbones,” he taunted.

You huffed in disbelief. “Oh my fucking God.” Your mind was utterly blank. “So, you didn’t sleep with anyone?”

He smiled at you. “Nope. You’re still my only one.” Your cheeks flushed at this. “That being said, you were so incredibly immature earlier,” he chided, making your eyebrow perk with discontent.

“Excuse me,” you nearly hissed.

His eyes navigated your body. “Jealous little brat, honestly,” he scoffed. “Make it up to me.” You stared at him blankly, as if unable to comprehend his words. He moved his arms to rest on the back of the couch, letting his legs spread a bit further. You watched him intently as his jaw tensed, looking slightly intimidating as he eyed you. His calm expression started you, gears turning behind his eyes. “Did I stutter?” He nipped.

You climbed onto his lap, letting his hands slip beneath your hoodie as he gripped your hips, pulling you down to grind against his leg. Heat spread across your body at the friction, realizing now just how needy you’d been for most of the night. Funny how you didn’t even think of taking care of yourself without Karl there.

He tugged your collar to the side, pressing his lips against the sensitive skin of your neck, his warm breath a stark contrast to the cool temperature of the room. You felt his teeth glide over the valleys of your collarbones as if threatening to mark you as the brat you were. His brat.

His fingers dug into your skin, his knee bouncing slightly as he pushed you to increase your speed. You moaned against his shoulder, reaching the hand that wasn’t planted securely on his arm towards his belt. The clasp was almost second nature for you, considering the various places and positions you’d been in and wrestling with it.

As you slipped your hand into his pants, he groaned, bucking against your touch as if he'd been hungry for you all night. He rested his hand in the crook of your neck, roughly bringing your lips to his own. Instead of kissing you immediately, his lips brushed against yours, the smell of his breath dancing against your skin and forcing you to want him more as your hips moved to make up for the lack of his taste on your tongue.

Your hand gripped him through his boxers, earning a muffled grunt of pleasure from Karl. His eyes threatened to roll as you began to palm him, his breathing deep and needy. Curses hissed through his teeth, the sound further adding to how turned on you were. "Give me your mouth," he moaned, a demand you were more than happy to fulfill as you slipped onto your knees in front of him. Karl's hand gathered your hair as you tugged his boxers down. Your fingers traced the hem of his dress pants that ran against the inside of his thigh before attending to his arousal once again.

Then something clicked into your mind. "I've been thinking about what Todd said," you began, Karl's reaction dulling as you began to pump your hand around his dick. "About me sleeping with him," you continued, your voice dripping with a venomous innocence.

Karl twitched in your hand, his grip on your hair tightening. You moaned slightly as his eyes hardened. "Tread lightly, pet," he nearly growled. The gruffness of his voice sending goosebumps down your back. "You're on thin fucking ice already."

You looked up at him with doe eyes, crowding his lap. "I wonder if he's bigger than you," you commented.

You seemed to find the last straw rather quickly as Karl grabbed your arms, pulling you up and throwing you on the couch beneath him. "Fucking bitch," he snapped, ripping your underpants down your legs. "And here I was about to make this about you," he chuckled darkly, leaning on his knee to slip his jacket off his shoulders and discard his button-up shirt.

He grabbed your thighs, pulling you towards him before he ground his hips against yours roughly, clashing his lips against yours. He tugged on your hair tightly, tongue pressing into your mouth.

His lips left yours, pulling your hoodie over your head and throwing it across the room before digging his teeth into your chest. You moaned at his efforts, basking in the roughness of his actions. Karl pushed himself into you without warning, and without hesitation, he began to snap his hips into yours. Your thighs tightened around his waist, attempting to adjust to his speed before he hooked one of your legs in the crook of his elbow, pushing it towards your chest.

His hand moved to wrap around your neck possessively, his eyes burning into yours with a mix of lust and glimmers of the sadistic side of him that loved to see you tremble beneath his touch as he restricted your breathing, only for you to gasp for air when he allowed. "Fucking brat," he barked, pounding into you faster. "Bring him up again and I'll make your life miserable," he groaned, spitting into your mouth to illustrate his point.

You let him take his anger out on you as you fought not to grin at the pure sparks of pleasure pulsing through your veins at the view of him completely dominating you. Your eyes fluttered shut, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in an attempt not to cum from the intense stimulation, your fingers digging into the softness of the couch beneath you as you searched for something to anchor yourself.

Karl leaned back slightly, dragging a hand through his hair as he slowed his hips, his eyes glued to yours, the new angle driving him deeper into you. The view of him above you like this oddly reminded you of when the two of you went to parties and spent the night grinding against each other in the massive crowds of your peers to an unidentifiable song.

Any idiot could tell Karl could fuck by the way he danced.

Karl pressed his hips firmly against yours, bucking into you relentlessly once again, pulling your hands above your head and holding your wrists in his fist. He kissed you harshly once again, swallowing your attempts to catch your breath and dragging his teeth across your lips again.

You felt unable to control your orgasm as it raced through you, your moans echoing into Karl's mouth as your body tensed. Karl used your orgasm to ride out the rest of his own pleasure, smirking slightly at your disheveled appearance.

As the air settled, the two of you straighten up the living room, making sure to find each article of clothing so your roommate wouldn't comment. Karl sat back down on the couch, reaching an arm out for you. You raised an eyebrow at him hesitantly, with a small smirk playing on your lips.

He huffed jokingly. "Come on, I can't fuck your brains out and not hug you at least for a bit," he joshed, gesturing for you to join him.

You let out a small laugh. The man with multiple piercings, tattoos, and a glare that can insight nightmares, was always the first to ask to cuddle. You tucked into the spot beneath his arm, letting his grasp tighten around you as you wrapped a blanket around the both of you.

His heartbeat thumped against your ear, making you want to slip into a deep sleep. "I think we should set Todd up with Nail Polish Girl," you joked, breaking into the comfortable silence between the two of you. You glanced up at Karl as you said this, hoping to gauge his reaction as you silently apologized for what you'd said earlier in the name of getting him riled up.

He chuckled shortly. "We should probably straighten ourselves out before we meddle in other people's relationships," he mocked. It'd come out as a light-hearted statement, but it tugged heavily at your nerves.

You pushed yourself to sit up and look at him, suddenly anxious. "What do you mean? We're fine, right?"

Karl smirked. "Well yeah, but sooner or later we're going to have to figure out what we're doing." He wet his lips. "I mean, how much longer are we supposed to just mindlessly hook up."

"We're not mindlessly hooking up. We're friends too," you reasoned, your voice uneven as you attempted to inject humor in your statements, hoping to mask your hesitation.

He rolled his eyes slightly. "Yeah, but don't you want more? Like who do you say I am when your friends ask?" He raised his eyebrows, shortly waiting for a response before continuing. "A booty call, right? Am I supposed to be a booty call forever?"

You were taken aback slightly. His tone wasn't provocative, but that didn't stop your heart from racing. "What are you saying?"

He shrugged. "What does it sound like I'm saying?" He sat up a bit more to angle towards you. "I don't mean now, but eventually I'd like this to mean a bit more."

You stood up from the couch, nearly tripping over the coffee table as you reached for a pair of discarded sweatpants and slipped them on. "This is a lot to think about," you mumbled, unable to make eye contact with him. Your mind raced with the different outcomes of what he was talking about. Also, all of them involved the two of you going stale and him finding comfort in other people. "I mean… what we have now is good. Isn't it?"

Karl stood too, raising his hands slightly as if he were consoling a cornered animal. "I didn't mean to freak you out. I thought we were on the same page?" You rubbed the back of your neck nervously, looking for words. "I- uh. I'm sorry." His hands fisted at his sides awkwardly, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. Sirens wailed from outside your windows, the street becoming the only noise in your apartment as he awaited your next move. "I'm actually… gonna head out. I'll uh… I'll text you later," he stated, grabbing his jacket, gauging your reaction.

Your tongue felt like sandpaper as you chewed the inside of your cheek. "No, uh… I think I need some time…" you trailed, your eyes flashing to his. "... To think…"

He nodded slightly, taking one last look at you before slipping out your front door, the lock clicking shut behind him.

Tag List:

@mrwinemaker @madsbbg @idiotinnit @xxtakechancesxx @chxrrymilkshake @westyywifee @kiritokunuwu

#this was so hard to write #edgy!karl #edgy!karl jacobs #mcyt smut #mcyt x y/n #karl jacobs x you #karl jacobs my beloved #karl jacobs angst #karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs imagine #karl jacobs fanfic #college au #college au karl jacobs #karl jacobs smut #karl jacobs x y/n

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divinefireangel · 3 years

Text

They Just Don't Know You

Soft Yandere! Seo Moon-Jo x F! Reader

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.

Author's Note: A 2nd longer fic for our lovely cannibalistic psychopath. I hate that I'm attracted to him. Someone please be my therapist. Or psychiatrist. Honestly doesn't matter. My brain is fucked anyway.

Copyright: Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. I readily welcome suggestions and criticisms. That being said, Happy reading! 🤍

Warnings: 16+ and written for female reader, but all can read. (nothing specified with respect to appearance, etc of reader). Except that I've mentioned reader is short, cuz LDW is tall 🥰. There is a brief mention of sex, but no actual smut. Reader kinda highkey hates on her parents and younger sister. Read it to know. Age gap between reader and Moon-Jo. Slight obsessive thoughts. Manipulative words. I tried to put plot twist in the end, probably you won't notice it 💀. Please please tell me if I need to add more warnings. Do not read if you start to feel uncomfortable. I apologize in advance 🥺

❗❗PLEASE READ WARNINGS ❗❗

Pre-Requisite / Summary: Just a fic based on the song They Just Don't Know You by Little Mix. After watching Strangers from hell I related this song to him for some reason. Reader and Moon-Jo are in an established relationship. And reader's loved ones don't approve.

2.3k ish words My longest fic till date 🥳

" You know that he's too old for you. You can settle for younger, much younger guys for your age sweetheart. If you can't find anyone eligible enough, we will find one for you. And you don't even know if he has intentions of marrying you. What if all he wants is just a fling or some time pass relationship. Hmm? What are you going to do then? "

Sipping her tea silently, Y/N sat next to her dad on the porch swing, listening to all the criticisms he had about Moon-Jo. All his words did was boil her blood. But what could she do when they don't walk in her shoes? They don't know how safe and content she feels when he kisses her like she's the only girl for him in the entire universe. And no point in explaining that to her father anyway. She's tried. And failed. Multiple times.

"Are you done with your tea?" She asks her dad, in desperate attempt to try and get away from him and his words because she knows, and even he knows that it's going to end up in a fight if they continue to speak on the same topic.

Humming yes, he hands her his tea cup which she takes to the kitchen so she can help her mom with dinner. Placing them in the sink upon entering the kitchen, Y/N drags her palms down her face in frustration.

" I could hear what he said you know. Your dad. He's not wrong. Seo Moon-Jo seems like he'll break your heart in three. And we're only looking out for you Y/N. You don't have to go through heartbreak when you can very well avoid it." Her mom finished slowly.

" Why. Why is it so difficult for you to accept the fact that I'm actually in a happy relationship for once in my life. So what if he's much older than I am? He's a dentist. A doctor. A very good profession and he's known and well respected in his neighbourhood too. " Y/N said loud enough for her dad also to hear.

Huffing in annoyance she left the kitchen to go upstairs to her room. Or rather the room she shares with her sister. Of course the door is wide open. The younger rascal is always here for the drama.

Ever since Y/N came out to her family about her relationship with Moon-Jo, her sister has become the favourite child, for obvious reasons. And now eavesdropping with the door wide open? That's a new low. But what else can Y/N expect from such a low life who is literally thriving off her own sister's pain and suffering.

When entering the room, Y/N realizes how big a mistake it was to visit her family. And she did not need such snark from a younger, less experienced child.

"Are you that blinded by " Love " that you don't even see how weird his hair is? A man who isn't an idol or actor doesn't need such long hair. He's clearly a fuckboy. Or man whore. Whichever is right. " She said with disgust.

'She's just jealous. She's just a jealous bitch. They all are.' Y/N thinks to herself.

" At least one of us gets laid regularly. And just so you know, it's absolutely heavenly when he makes me cum over and over on his fingers and his dick-" Y/N said as her tone slowly got lower and darker and her emotion angrier.

Screaming and covering her ears, the younger girl ran downstairs to her mother, no doubt to tattle on her older sister. Rolling her eyes, Y/N started packing her things, all of them, in a bag she took down from the top shelf of the wardrobe.

It's really difficult to leave one's family, but it is clearly getting more and more tiresome to love them nowadays. If it's so wrong to date him, why does Y/N herself not see it? She's a logical and smart young lady. Does her family hate that man so much that they don't even want her to be happy? No matter who she's with. And is it so bad to date a man who's older? Richer? And cares more about her than all of her family members combined?

Wiping the fallen tear stains from her cheek, she just thinks to herself ' They just don't know him. They just don't know him like I do. '

Sending a text to her lover, saying that she misses him and that she's coming back home sooner than planned, Y/N carries her bag through the front door, her parents and sister ignoring her as she leaves and walks out that door one final time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once reaching their shared apartment, Y/N collapsed into her lover's arms the moment he opens the door, crying her eyes out. Seeing his lover in turmoil, shedding a tear or two of his own, Moon-Jo carries her to the living room couch to cradle her like a child who needs attention.

" They- They said -"

" Shh my darling. I know. " Moon-Jo said, shushing his girlfriend and giving her a shoulder to cry on. Once she's calmed a little, her sobs turning to sniffs, she lifts her head to meet his gaze.

Seeing her sad, tear stained eyes always upset him. More than anything in the world. Running his long slender fingers across her cheeks and jaw, he removes her hair from her ponytail with his free hand and rests it on her thigh.

" Tell me. Please tell me that you won't break my heart like them. That you won't try to tear my world apart like them. " Y/N looked desperately at him, wanting so badly to know that he's not just using her.

Those words, that slipped out her mouth, shocked Moon-Jo, to say the least. What did he do wrong? What did her family fill her head with?

Tilting his head to a little, he looks into her red eyes, trying to read her mind for a moment, all the while she just looked at him with the same desperate expression.

"Please tell me that you will be there when I need you the most. " Y/N whispered so softly, she herself barely heard it. But the end of the sentence, she started crying all over again.

Taking her head to his neck, he stroked her hair and her sides, trying to calm her down.

" Darling. I promise with my everything, that I will never leave you, I will never ever let you go. That I will do anything, anything necessary to prove my love to you. "

"No, oh dear no. That's not, you don't have- have to do anything at all to make me believe you love me. I'm sorry I asked such a stupid question. " She sobbed out.

Shushing her softly again, he rocks their bodies back and forth, till she's calmed and fallen asleep there, in his arms. Knowing that his arms are her only safe place for her from now on, he takes her delicate figure to the bedroom.

Placing her on her side of the bed, he lays down on his. Staring at her stunning face, he feather touches her face with his fingertips, memorizing every curve, every little detail on her, like a sculptor admiring his work and giving it the finishing touches.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

" So, I did a little digging on your sugar daddy. "

" Why?! And he's not my sugar daddy. " Y/N said in disbelief. No. Not her dear best friend too.

" I know you said not to and I'm sorry. But I am worried about you. He made you leave your family Y/N. " They stated with worry and sympathy.

" No. He didn't make me leave them. I left them by choice. They don't see him like I do. And clearly, they hate that I'm happy with him. " Y/N finished as they sat down at the lunch table.

" Y/N..... "

" What? Even you don't want me to be happy? " She questioned her friend in disbelief. Laughing sarcastically Y/N shook her head.

" I've heard rumours! Okay? He was in the orphanage that had that severe fire explosion. And most of the culprits from that incident are MIA. What if he's one of the people who caused it?! " They said in a whisper, worried that the neighbouring people can hear their conversation.

" Do you really think that? All of that is just a rumour. And he's told me about it. He's told me everything. Unlike my parents who so desperately tried to tie me down to an arranged marriage. "

" He's not good for you. I know you deserve better. Okay he may make happy and all but what if he leaves? What if he just uses you and drops you like you were nothing? We're just trying to make sure you don't get hurt Y/N. Physically and emotionally. " They finished.

" This, all what you said, is cheap talk. But it'll eventually wear down because when we get married and have kids and all that in the future, you're all going to look like fools. And I will proudly say ' I told you so '. "

" If that's the case then I am the happiest person for you. Hopefully I won't have to be the one to say ' I told you so'. "

" Wow. I, just- hah. Wow. Just wow. " She paused.

" You know, I really hoped you would be more supportive or at least tolerant enough to have patience and support me with my decision for my love. " Y/N said loud enough for eavesdroppers to hear audibly.

Of all the people she would have to drop, never even in her nightmares had she fathomed that her best friend would be one.

Getting up from the table, she picks up her bag and leaves without another word, and goes to the only place that has love for her and that accepts her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Reaching home, Y/N notices the place empty. Maybe he's at the clinic?

Shrugging off her bag and jacket she sits on the couch for a moment, before her restlessness takes over and she begins pacing in the living room.

Why are people being like this? Do they hate her so much? They barely know him. Why are they treating and accusing him to be such a criminal! He's not. He takes care of Y/N so much. He loves her so much. He provides for her. He's affectionate with her, more than he's told he thought capable. He's become her ride or die. And she, his.

They don't know him like I do. They will never love me like he does.

They don't know about the love they have. The just see what they want to see. Bloody society dictating whom to love and whom to not. Is it so hard to see the love they have for each other? Can't they just let it be. They don't know the turmoil she's gone through recently; they don't know how well he's taken care of her, kept her happy and same enough to not let her intrusive thoughts get the best of her.

Her thoughts interrupted by the door clicking open. Smiling, Moon-Jo enters with a box, surely containing sweets from her favourite bakery. How can you not love someone so considerate, who does things for you without even having to ask.

Seeing the sad look upon his lover's face, Moon-Jo's smile fades into a frown.

" What's wrong my dear? "

Smiling sadly Y/N just shakes her head, conveying that she doesn't want to talk about it.

Placing the box of sweets on the coffee table, the two hug each other, feeling of comfort taking over them both. She can just stay here, forever, in his arms till the world ends.

" Babe. What's wrong? You can tell me anything. Anything at all. I'll take care of the problem. " Delicately Moon-Jo cradles Y/N's head in his palms, making her face up to him, their height difference evident.

Sighing, she moves to sit on the couch, motioning him to do the same. " It's just people. And what they say. My family was one thing, but my best friend, the person I chose as my family " Pausing Y/N breathers the tears back in, " They were doubtful of you today. How can I live knowing that no one will approve of us? " Y/N questioned looking at him.

" Does their opinion really matter that much? So much so that you are skeptical of my affection to you? " Coldly, he moved back from his seat on the couch.

" No! No. Gosh that is not what I mean. Not at all. I love you and I know that you love me. So much. So much so I would die for you. But there are other people whom I care about. Who's opinions matter to me. And I don't want to let them go. As happy as I am with you, I need them too. They give me joy in a different way, that is important. "

" Do I not make you happy? Are you not content with the love I give you? Is it not enough? " He asks carefully.

" That's not what I meant! You love me more than anyone I've known. "

"Then what's the problem? You don't need those people who don't love you. You have me. You will have me forever and ever. I will never leave you. And you will never leave me either. We'll be with each other till the end of the world darling. "

Nodding with a small smile you looked down at your feet.

Unhappy with your action, Moon-Jo pulls your face up by your chin to look at him with such force, it scared you a little, making your heart skip a beat in fear.

" Do you not love me, babe? " He asked tilting his head to a side, his expression mildly offended.

" I do! I love you. So much. " You finished with a soft tone, cupping his face with your hands.

Grinning like a Cheshire Cat, Moon-Jo leaned down to capture your lips with his. Reacting immediately, you kissed him with as much energy and sincerity you could muster, as you head filled with thoughts of doubt.

Had your parents been right? Had for friend been right? Had they all been right all along and you too blind to see?

No. It can't be. He loves you. He's said that so many times. And you love him.

You love him.

You.

Love.

Him.

...

Do you love him, or have you been illusioned into loving him?

#lee dong wook #lee dong wook imagine #lee dong wook x reader #ldw #strangers from hell #strangers from hell x reader #hell is other people #seo moon jo #seo moon jo x reader #seo moon jo imagine #seo moon jo x f!reader #yandere seo moon jo

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lomlwintersoldier · 3 years

Text

Break Me Down II

Masterlist | Part 1

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: oof more sexual tension, mechanic!bucky

A/N: i wrote this over and over again and i realized it wasn’t working because I was trying to fit it al into 2 parts sooo....there will be a third part to tie all this up <3

Since that day in the gym with you, Bucky can’t seem to get you out of his head. He finds that when he turns a corner, a part of him hopes he’ll run into you, to repeat the fleeting moments he’d had with you before. When he enters a room, his heart jumps in the half second it takes to find you, and when his eyes do land on you, it’s like he can hardly breathe. You’ve gotten under his skin and all the denial he felt previously about his feelings for you had disappeared. Your smile, your laughter, your darkening eyes when you're serious, and the way you look at him...he could bask in your stare forever.

But, he can’t let on his feelings to you just yet so instead he chooses to work on the 1965 Ford Mustang that’s been sitting in his garage for weeks. He missed getting his hands greasy while he was dating Serena, she’d typically preferred when he focused all his energy on her so his own interests, such as fixing up “vintage” cars (seriously, he was older than this car by like 30 years) took a backseat.

He heads down to the old, leftover garage at the back of the compound where he kept his beauty away from Tony’s Lamborghinis, Ferraris, and Porsches knowing the billionaire would make fun of him for having a relatively cheap and ordinary car.

It’s pleasant to be out in the sun, working on his car, bathing in the summer heat as a light breeze blows through him every few minutes; it reminds him of the times he’d worked on various cars back in the day. Modern cars were so different from the old clunkers he used to fix up so it was a learning curve, but it wasn’t long before he fell into his rhythm and the hours passed like minutes.

It’s mid afternoon by the time he realizes he’s stuck on one of the final parts of the job. His hands, albeit expert and surprisingly delicate, were too big to get to the parts he needed deep in the hood of the car, and he sighs in frustration. He leans over the hood, hands gripping either side as he chews on the toothpick in his mouth quizzically.

Then, he has a wonderful idea.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Ms. Y/N, Mr. Barnes is requesting your presence in the garage.” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice booms over the intercom, startling you from the book you were reading.

“What? What does he need me for?” You inquire intently as you sit up on the couch, pushing the throw blanket that enveloped you away from your heated skin.

“He simply requested your help. The task is undetermined,” her feminine yet robotic voice replies.

Your heart jumps a bit although you can’t fathom what he could need your help with. Following that day in the gym, you’d found yourself holding your breath whenever you passed the common room, the kitchen, his room, just hoping that you could get a glimpse of him. You wanted his hands on you, to breathe his air, to look into those eyes again.

And it appears you now have that opportunity.

The walk down to the garages feels endless and you find yourself walking quickly, too quickly. You didn’t want to seem as eager as your speed would show so you slow down to a snail's pace until finally, you reach the side of the compound you’re sure you’ll find him in.

You see him before he sees you and...damn. Does he look enticing.

His back faces towards you as he bends over the hood of the vintage red car he’s working on, the white tank top he’s wearing gloriously displaying the black and gold arm the Wakandan’s gave him. Sweat glints on the exposed skin and you resist the urge to bit your lip. When he turns, a wide smile crosses his face and you suddenly feel like your cheeks are on fire.

“Hey, doll,” Bucky calls out to you as you stride over. “Think you can help me sus out this problem with the engine?”

You look at him quizzically as you plant your hands on your hips, glancing at the cherry red car before you. “I don’t really know anything about cars…”

He grins, straightening up as he wipes his grease-covered hands on the towel he has tucked in the waistband of his jeans. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to.”

“I just need your hands,” he holds his flesh hand out for you, daring you to take it with a smirk on his face.

“Come on, doll,” he laughs. “It’s not hard.”

You roll your eyes before placing your hand in his. Gently leading you by the hand to the front of the car, Bucky points at the mess of black parts that rest under the rather simplistic hood. “There's a part under here,” he gestures towards the left side of the car, “that I can’t get to. Hand’s too big.” He raises his large metal hand and wiggles his fingers playfully. A surprised laugh escapes your lips. “This is what you asked me to come out here for?” You ask incredulously. “Do you know how far this place is from the main building?”

“You have small hands,” he chuckles as he takes your hand and presses his palm to yours, spreading your fingers to match his and he’s right. Your hands are far smaller than his.

But now, hand pressed to his, you're abruptly aware of his presence, of his large and imposing body that towers over you as he stares intently into your eyes. Locks of his dark hair have fallen out of his bun and frame his face, the strands so close to tickling your cheek. Your eyes drop to his lips and you think, I could just….he’s right here….

“We should fix this car,” you exclaim, breaking both of you out of the moment as you drop your hand from his. You spin away leaning both your hands on the car, focusing very hard on the engine in front of you.

You can practically hear the smile in Bucky’s voice when he says, “alright doll, I need you to wiggle those pretty little fingers down...here.”

He places your hand over where he wants you to go as he rests his other hand on your hip. Trying to not be too distracted by his touch, you follow his instructions, reaching through the tight crevice he was unable to worm his digits between.

“Now take...this,” Bucky murmurs against your ear as he presses his chest to your back, handing you a part with the hand that just moments ago rested on your waist. He smells of sandalwood and cypress, a deliciously intoxicating aroma that is just wholeheartedly Bucky.

As you work, you realize you no longer have autonomy over your limbs. Your hands have become his as if you’re a marionette and he, the expert puppeteer. He guides you through the process, never letting your body move more than a few inches away from his as you listen intently to everything he whispers to you.

As you connect the last part, you circle around to face him, parting yourself from his chest. In response, he leans forward, practically caging you in against the car. Breaths intermingle, hearts beat faster.

Fuck it, you think.

Without stopping to contemplate the choice you’re about to make, you lean up onto your toes, connecting your lips to his with a fervor that initially catches him off guard, but he quickly sinks into your kiss, his scorching hands falling to your waist as he pulls you against him. His tongue forces its way into your mouth as you entangle your fingers in his hair, almost pulling it as you fight for dominance.

This kiss is filled with all the tension you’ve felt over the last couple of weeks, a desperate result of the stolen glances and held breaths in each others presences. So close and so far at the same time but now, in this moment, there is only the two of you, existing in perfect sync as you ride out this impatient longing together.

When you finally pull away, you’re out of breath, but you leave your arms tangled around his neck as his drop to your hips, resting lowly enough that his fingers graze your ass.

“What was that?” He laughs as he brushes a strand of hair from your face.

“You were getting too cocky,” you smirk as you push away from him, beginning to strut away the same way he did with you all those days before but you’re suddenly yanked back by the hand. Faster than you can react, he's got you enveloped in his arms and he’s walking you backwards until your back hits the cold cement wall of the garage.

“What’re you-” Bucky cuts your words off by crashing his lips to yours.

While the kiss was passionate before, there’s suddenly a need, an urgent craving that you can practically feel brewing beneath his skin, a hunger so deep you’re unsure you can satisfy him. His hands come up to cup your cheeks, keeping you so tightly pressed against him that you’re almost certain no one else exists, it’s Bucky, it’s just Bucky. All of him is almost overwhelming. This kiss is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before, it sets your body on fire, ignites electricity in your veins and leaves you frantically reaching for more.

“Was I, doll?” He murmurs heatedly against your lips. “Was I too cocky for you?”

His hips dig into yours and you tear your face from his, breathless and gasping for air. He wastes no time in moving to your neck, sucking and kissing and biting, earning your quiet moans as he gyrates his pelvis to yours. Your legs have gone weak and the only thing keeping you standing is his waist pressed between your legs.

“Bucky!” You exclaim when he bites the sensitive skin just above your collarbones particularly hard. He takes your cry as a signal to move back up to your lips, giving you one last, harsh kiss before pulling away.

But this time he doesn’t walk away. He keeps you pressed forcefully against him, the fiery heat between the two of you voraciously palpable as both of you try to catch your breath.

“Come up to my room,” you breathe as you tangle your fingers in his hair once more. His eyes fix on yours, his brow furrowing as your lips part in hunger, wanting more, wanting him.

“You sure you want that, baby?” His right, flesh hand cups your cheek and you see a tinge of real concern in his eyes, despite the bravado in his voice.

Instead of responding, you lean up and gently bite the soft skin of his neck, earning a groan from his delicious mouth.

“More than I’ve ever been.”

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

Next Part: Coming soon! <3

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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

Text

an (incomplete) list of things kon can do because lex luthor is his dad that people always forget about:

#1 : math - he's fifteen, and math comes easy to him (unlike a lot of people his age, or at least, his visible age.) a lot of things come easy to him, because when you have all knowledge in the known universe downloaded into your brain, things like advanced math don't bother you very much.

but it bothers his friends, because bart loses interest about three seconds into the assignments, cassie groans anytime "homework" is brought up in general, and tim hates the concept and execution of math so much that he'd rather hide in kon's room where he thinks no one will look for him instead of even cracking open a textbook.

but kon's pretty sure being a hero means you don't need any real world skills, and after his initial hesitation and disagreements, he realized that he genuinely wants these people to like him, to be friends with him. their math homework is easier than a breeze to complete.

#2 : tying a tie the ~fancy~ way - he's nineteen, and his fingers flow through a silk tie like a fish through water. the motions are beyond familiar, he could do them in his sleep. so is the action of pulling on a suit, pressing his collar, arranging his hair into a neat style. he's timothy drake-wayne's date tonight, and he needs to look the part. fortunately, luthor taught him how to look the part a long the ago.

the party itself is,,,,pleasant, he supposes. he spends most of the time as arm candy, tim's pretty little thing as his boyfriend sweet-talked investors and networked. but they both know that the tipsier people are, the easier they let slip secrets to someone they believe won't understand them, and kon gathers a wealth of information by the time he meets up with tim by the appetizer bar right before dinner.

tim tugs him close by his tie and kisses his cheek, then laughs when kon discreetly but disgustedly spits out the pickled salmon cracker toppings.

#3 : educated debating - he's sixteen, and in an argument with tim that's gone so off the rails that kon can't even remember what they were fighting about in the first place. wherever they started, they were here, now, kon on top of a table in an ice cream parlour screaming about how a socialist approach to taxes would boost the lower class, tim on top of a barstool screaming right back about how the middle class are the only ones paying taxes and socialism would only put more weight on their shoulders.

both of them are this close to busting out laughing, and the only reason they haven't been thrown out is because the employee behind the counter is frantically taking notes. kon can see it in tim's eyes, see the way the younger boy didn't expect to hold such a passionate and intense debate with him, didn't expect kon to be capable of it. it's a pleasant surprise, though; that much is evident in tim's barely-hidden grin.

the debate comes to a pause when bart smacks him with a spoon and tells him off for stepping on the speedster's ice cream, and the tiredness with which he collapses back into the booth is a good one.

#4 : efficient + effective workplace supervision - he's twenty, and wondering how in the hell people hadn't murdered the entirety of young justice when it was first founded. bart had graduated to being the flash's full time sidekick, and though he came to visit often, it wasn't the same. gotham was almost always on the verge of imminent disaster these days, and tim was one of the few ropes holding it together. kon missed him like crazy, but his few visits were all the boy could spare. cassie was in charge now, and she was a wonderful leader, but busy, always smoothing over relations between the team and the justice league and civilian offices.

so, somehow, that left kon to be the den mother to all the new younger kids, and somehow, kon was good at it. he knew exactly what to say to get people to listen to his commands, telling them to work on this or work on that, train for this and practice that. he tells them when to get some sleep and let the weight of the day roll off their shoulders, and when to push themselves to raise them higher than they ever thought they could go. unexpectedly, he finds himself liking it.

#5 : the splits

#6 : colour schemes + interior decorating - he's twenty-one, and tim's finally deciding to turn the nest into a home. bart, who had spent the last couple of years bouncing between allen-west-mercury households and was therefore accustomed to a home with a fire of love reaching every corner and every member of the family, was appalled. so was kon, honestly.

the penthouse that tim worked out of was cold and impersonal, sleek lines that angles that matched the limbs and contours of tim's body. but the shadows around tim's eyes had lessed over the past few years, his smile coming to his lips almost as easy as when young justice first learned how to work together. all it took was a little encouragement from cassie, and suddenly, all four of them were involved in a home renovation project.

cassie churned out ikea furniture like it was nothing, the three of them taking a break from their jobs to just watch her as she lifted one of their hardwood bookshelves with one hand. bart bought home goods and essentials from various department stores and ran around, stocking the house with them wherever he felt a saucepan needed to be hung (near the coat hanger) or a candle holder needed to be placed (on the kitchen barstools, because apparently those were decorative anyway).

kon, meanwhile, decorated. he painted rooms and bought curtains and pillows, yes. but he also sorted through every single souvenir and memory the four of them had managed to accumulate over the years, photographs and hacked-off pieces of giant robots and saved movie tickets and broken weapons. he gets his hands on everything he can find, then fills up tim's nest until it's brimming with a cosy warmth made up of the four of them.

still, it's an obnoxiously large penthouse, so there's empty and open space left over even after redecorating. it's tim who takes a breath and works up the courage to tell them, not ask but tell them, that he wanted each of them to have their own bedroom. so bart takes the largest guest room and turns it into an explosion of colour, and cassie spends too much time decorating a room that she won't even live in most of the time. kon conspicuously notes how tim doesn't bother giving kon a room, just dumps kon's backpack on his bed and clears room in his own closet. he does wrap tim in a ttk hug though, from all the way across the room, and drinks in tim's red flush.

#7 : speed reading (no powers) - he's seventeen, and just now realizing how competitive his best friends are. cassie had long since resigned herself to being the judge and the hander-outer-of-prizes (candy from the nearest convenience store) for the speed-reading competition, but tim, kon, and bart were still in the running.

eventually, though, the pressure from holding back his powers grew too strong, and bart slumped against the back of the sofa, mournfully opening his mouth so cassie could drop a candy into it.

and then there were two.

kon thought back to the confrontation that had started this contest in the first place, robin's offhand comment about how he had to be the one to collect the data files from the company office they were infiltrating, because he was the only one who could speed-read and retain information. that had spiraled into an argument, then a challenge, then a competition, with a clear rule not to use any powers.

kon darted his eyes across the page, soaking up every word, the pages like tiny knives on the pads of his fingers as he turned them. he lost track of the page count, just reading and reading and reading until he tried to turn the page and realized there wasn't a next one. he yelled in triumph, reveling in tim's defeated groan, and settled in for cassie's quiz on the contents of the book.

#8 : sophisticated meal and wine palette - he was twenty-two, and discovering that he really, really liked tim's shocked face. they'd been friends for years now, childish hatred turned into playful bantering turned into knowing each other inside out. still, every now and then, kon did something that forced tim's eyebrows high on his head, his eyes widening just the barest bit.

right now, kon was at a dinner party with the words moral support written across his forehead. tim could handle himself remarkably well, but there was tiredness lacing the smaller boy's frame, and kon could practically see the way the tips of his soul were frazzled. so kon let tim lean into his arm and whispered jokes about luna-with-the-big-ugly-purse and martonio-who-can't-do-a-combover into his ear. or, at least, he was.

somehow he'd been drawn into a good natured argument with the man sitting just two seats down from tim and kon. friendly opinions of food had been tossed back and forth, growing more and more heated until kon looked him right in the eye and said he liked prosecco with his prosciutto, internally crowing with satisfaction at their shocked silence and sighing with pity that none of the guests here would ever try that combination out of fear of deviation. once the man had regained his sensibilities, he shot back, saying the sixth course should never serve salmon, instead regaling the fish to the amusebouche or the cheese course. kon snorted and told him fish itself was going out of style, and if he wanted to impress guests at the next dinner party he hosted, he should try serving octopus.

tim's shocked face was a pleasant surprise, but seeing the stunned, controlled blinks of everyone around him as they realized he wasn't just a pretty face was satisfying as well. even more satisfying was when he and tim said their goodbyes; while waiting for the valet, tim pressed up onto the tips of his toes and whispered promisingly in kon's ear, i fucking love your competence.

#9 : manipulating people into hating him to justify his actions - he was eighteen, and he was screaming, crying, tearing his hair out. kon didn't know what he had expected. lingering fondness? grudging acceptance? maybe a small leap for a chance at love?

it didn't matter. clark didn't want anything to do with him. and he was eighteen now, which meant clark didn't need to take care of him anymore, didn't need to pretend to pay attention to him anymore. he'd made it quite clear.

maybe that was why he found himself hesitating before saying no to amanda waller's offer. he forgot about the warnings tim gave him, though, and waller pounced on that hesitation, quicker than a panther. it was easy, it was oh so easy to let himself go with her.

besides, they had a reason to hate him now. he hadn't done anything to clark. he hadn't asked to be made. but clark had wanted nothing to do with him anyway, and didn't that sting. so if people were going to turn him away now, it was going to be for something he did.

he didn't realize how bad he was spiraling, how close he was to stepping off the lighted ledge he'd been balancing on his entire life and tumbling into the darkness below. but cassie had a stronger punch than most grown superheroes, and bart had tenaciousness written into every strand of his ginormous hair, and tim gripped his jaw so hard his fingernails dug into kon's skin and told kon that he was getting his best friend back, no matter what the hell he thought he was worth.

maybe it was madness that made him throw himself forward, still wrapped in the lasso cassie borrowed from diana, practically mauling tim's lips with his own. he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to break down crying after he kissed someone, given past experience, but the three of them, his wonderful, wonderful friends, just hugged him tight, let him fight and shake and sob until all the rage was gone. it was the first time in a long while he'd done something in hopes that someone would look at him with love, not hatred.

#10 : waltzing - he was twenty-three, twenty three and giddy with how much time he had left. conner was with tim drake-wayne publicly now, so expectations were thrust onto him, expecting to be met.

kon tended to have more fun at events than tim ever did. granted, kon didn't have to deal with all of his coworkers drinking too much and exchanging money with secrets faster than drugs and asking tim whether or not his relationship meant he was open for still-young and handsome men who needed just a small escape from their wives. but tim wasn't trying very hard to enjoy himself either.

so kon was completely justified in tugging him towards the center of the room, in a patch of floor sparsely occupied, then pulling him as close as he dared. tim's panicked whisper of what!? was overridden by kon's laughter, but he muffled his sounds for a minute, letting tim hear the quiet music playing in the background (prerecorded and playing on speakers, not live).

understanding broke over tim's face, and he arched into kon's hold as easy as breathing. kon moved one of his hands to grip tim's wrist, and he twirled the two of them effortlessly, breathless at tim's flabbergasted expression. the rhythm was simple, and tim caught on quickly. one two three, one two twist, one two three, one two step, one two three, one two switch, one two three, one two three.

kon couldn't say they danced the night away, because a little while later tim took a break for a drink, then speeches were made, then dinner was served. by then, they were both entirely too tired to dance, longing for just a bed and a soft blanket and each other. but for those few minutes in the middle of a packed yet empty ballroom, kon and tim did lose themselves in the music, just a little bit.

i don't know shit about taxes or socialism. this got way longer than anticipated whoops. i'm tagging this "long post," but if someone asks me to put it under a cut, i'd be happy to

also jesus christ this thing is almost 2.5k words. im uploading it to ao3 later if i'm in the mood

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridg @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy

#scribbles from the swamp #kon-el #conner kent #superboy #timkon #core four #dc #kon-el headcanon #kon-el fic #conner kent headcanon #conner kent fic #superboy headcanon #superboy fic #timkon headcanon #timkon fic #core four headcanon #core four fic #dc headcanon #dc fic

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chiwhorei · 3 years

Text

gun bunny

pairing: mafia!s. aizawa x fem!reader

genre: mafia!au, quirkless!au, smut- 18+ minors dni

word count: 2.5k

warning: somnophilia, voyeurism, violence, attempted kidnapping, attempted assault, mentions of blood, mentions of guns and knives, degradation, age-gap (reader is 19 and aizawa is 31), spitting

a/n: hello! this is my contribution to the smut pile mafia!server collab, this is both my first smut pile collab (this is so late i am so sorry sksksksk) and my first full-length bnha piece, be sure to check out everyone else’s amazing work here! thank you to @10millionyearsdungeon and @messwriting for your constant support while i trudged through sad pal hours for a fucking month and crawled out of the pits of writer’s block

hymns: hayloft by - mother mother, i’m on fire - awolnation cover

Blood pours over decades like syrup, the tinny-sweet smell was distinct but all too familiar. A muffled gun’s buzzing frames 19 years of life. The barrel feels cool, sitting precariously by the highest angle of your cheekbone.

“I told you not to cause trouble, brat. Now I have to clean up your little mess.”

Aizawa’s body is tall and broad above you, holding you against him with a protective grip on the small of your back. Every word is sneering, punctuated with a growl-- you feel it reverberate against his chest.

The bullet is resounding even through the silencer; a deafening sound, final bell tolling next to smeared streaks of mascara.

Aizawa Shouta has always been around-- whether bringing your dad a hefty stack of reports to thumb through or loosening his tie in the parlor and toasting him to another job well done. A carousel of chauffeurs and bodyguards encircle you, but all are nameless faces except for the man that can make people disappear in an instant: Eraser.

Otsuka y/n, the only daughter of the most powerful man in Japan, is a weighty title against your shoulders. Your father’s reputation has cradled you for almost two decades, keeping you draped in fur and balancing on red-bottoms. He has more money, more power than God. To most of your father’s inner circle, you are the dutiful, angelic heiress to his blood-soaked empire. You play the part well enough, polite, temperate- your hands are painted red in culpability, but perfectly manicured.

Your father’s business isn’t a secret, no matter his attempts to shield you over the years. There’s only so many nights spent humming to the tune of cracking skulls in the next room before “investments in oil” starts to lose its validity. Whenever you ask him, he pats your head, smoothing stray strands of hair, “I do it all for you, bunny. Everything is for you.”

You decide not to think about rouge splatters of blood and bruises against his knuckles, ignoring the clicking of a loading gun before he leaves for the office.

It’s better this way.

“You can’t be serious, Otsuka.” Aizawa paces across the hardwood, heel to toe with Italian leather from one large bookshelf to the other. A familiar habit, you’ve seen the contemplative marching before and know it to mean one thing: Aizawa is pissed.

“Have you ever known me to joke around? Especially with y/n?” Your father’s elbows hit the table in front of him, the jagged scars lining his face seem even more intimidating when coupled with a harshly set frown. You perch on the side of his large desk, swinging your feet lightly.

“Oh daddy, I’m not a child. I don’t need Eraser to babysit me.” You huff, crossing your arms and providing a pout to your father’s hard expression. You hear the mumbled, “Don’t call me that,” from behind you, but decide against a response.

“He’s going to look after you while I’m in Musutafu. I have to handle some…” he trails off slightly, one of his hands coming up to rub against his bald head, “noncompliance, but I shouldn’t be gone for more than a few days.” His disfigured fingers curling around yours, you look up to meet his eye, “Be a good girl, bunny.”

You give your father’s temple a kiss, pulling back to smile sweetly. Your next words have Aizawa snorting, rolling his eyes far enough into his skull to be painful.

“I always am.”

A bend downwards at the hips frames your ass perfectly, the lace of your panties curls around your pussy tightly, hooking against the lips and showcasing your soft skin. Questions swirl in the bowl of cereal in front of him, all but forgotten as soon as a cup“fell” from your fingers and clattered to the floor. The taste, the smell, the feeling of--

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Aizawa is ripped from the reprehensible desires of his senses to meet your eyes, your form still folded over on itself and displayed for Aizawa in the otherwise empty kitchen. You giggle at his scowl, snapping back up and smoothing out your skirt. Aizawa bites down on the spoon in between his teeth, he swears he can feel his teeth cracking. Better his canines than his will.

This only marks the beginning of a long week for your father’s right-hand man. The proceeding days turn to nights at a snail's pace. The past week has been inching towards disaster with every minute of alone time you could steal with Aizawa.

“Eraser, what are you doing up so late.” Your voice curls around his shoulder, the whine tugging him towards your open bedroom door. It’s late, far too late for you to be up to anything good.

You always like to push your luck, playing a game you know Aizawa won’t let himself win. Pressing firmly against the line but never pointing your heel across. Maintaining your immunity, feigning innocence behind a soft pout. Your appointed guardian isn’t fooled by any honeyed façade you build around his associates. He knows what you are at the core.

He tries to shake off your pull, but the way your voice lilts against the long hallway is magnetic. The past few nights have been the same song and dance, your disarming call to him as he trudges to one of the many guest bedrooms. Every night he gets closer, heavy feet and tense nerves guiding him towards your warm voice. He’s weathering a sea, you’re the siren hell-bent on his drowning.

“I told you not to call me that, little girl.” His response to your wanton call is shallow, the nickname is one he hates the sound of, especially rolling past your lips.

“Do you like what you see?”

Aizawa’s brows set harshly as he looks on to where you lie nestled in pillows and silk. You have nothing but a loose, light pink camisole to cover your body, cotton panties pulled down to your ankles with shameless intent. Your legs are spread wide for your viewer’s pleasure, two fingers brush against your lips, dragging lazily- up and back down.

Aizawa knows what you really are, a petulant brat.

You pull at the soft skin, spreading yourself to unveil the tight, clenching hole. He leans his shoulder against the jam, eyes drinking you in where his body shamefully wishes to be. The groan aching deeply in his chest is not lost on you as your other hand pulls the hem of your shirt upwards to catch in between your teeth.

The soft plush of your breasts bounces slightly, nipples peeking out from the folds of fabric, now fully exposed to the inky-black stare of your voyeur. There’s nothing left to his imagination now, the question that haunts sleepless nights, palming a large hand up and down his cock and imagining something softer and smaller. The picture of what his boss’s precious daughter would look like squirming under him becoming clearer beyond all reason.

Aizawa should turn heel and walk away, he should slam your bedroom door shut and count the days until your father’s return with a measured distance. He should walk away. He should-

A soft whimper drags him from contemplation and back to the writhing succubus center stage. Your fingers move quickly against your aching clit, drawing out babbled pleas to hit harshly against the tall, brooding presence at your door.

“I’ve had about enough of your games, bunny. Your father tasked me to keep you out of trouble, but you are the trouble.” Aizawa’s words hit your ears mockingly, but they sound more like an invitation than a warning, especially as his body inches forward, breaching the threshold of your bedroom inch by inch.

Two fingers slip past your lips, pushing in and drawing back slicked with arousal. You repeat the action, slowly, ensuring the boring set of eyes are trained on where you clench desperately; wanting to put on a good show with your bodyguard in the front row.

Aizawa’s head is swimming, dizzy and drunk. He wants to tear you apart, to lay claim to the twitching prize between your legs. If you struggle around two of your own much smaller fingers, it would be nearly impossible to wrap you around his thick cock.

That is, not without breaking you.

The heated pants escaping you pick up in canter, your audience winding a tight cord with his presence alone. Aizawa is unrelenting in his deep, unblinking stare, stepping towards your bed slowly. Once his body is looming over you, the coil in your stomach has turned into a hair pinned trigger.

“Such a messy little slut. Getting off to the attention aren’t you?” You’re rendered dumb at his comment, Aizawa barely has to press his thumb into your chin before your mouth hangs open. You look up with glassy eyes, fingers sore from working against your pussy, chasing a high you can only imagine how fast Aizawa could steal from you. His expression is as neutral as always, but the despondency doesn’t quite shadow the fire burning in his eyes. You watch him lean forward slightly, a string of saliva falling downward to land against your tongue. His spit feels hot, you can taste the remnants of cigar and mint gum as you swallow.

You come undone in a litany of cries, pleading with your captor. His hold is passive as he looks at you, watching you cum against your fingers, the squelching sounds make his mouth dry. The only source of hydration is at the apex of your thighs. Visions flash before his eyes, images of what the curve of your breasts look like as he’s buried tongue deep, lapping you up post-orgasm and pushing you over once more for good measure.

Aizawa retreats, lest he pulls you against his mouth while your cunt is still pulsating, he needs to escape before your knees are pressed to your shoulders. He slams your door closed harshly, leaving you with the taste of his contempt for you on your bottom lip.

You’re quick to sleep, body falling into the warmth of unconsciousness coupled with dreams of what a certain set of fingers would feel like against you. How the scars and calluses would brush against your most intimate inches of spongy flesh, how he would stretch you.

You can almost feel the soreness in between your legs and the heavy slap of something against your stomach. You can almost remember the whispered confessional swimming in the back of your head, the soft grunts from above your sleeping form. As sunlight stretches across your sleep-stiff body, your hand trails down over your naked skin, maybe you aren’t the only one playing games this week.

You could have almost sworn you had gone to sleep with panties on.

The car ride to your father’s bar was filled with unflattering tension. You had protested in vain that going with Aizawa wasn’t necessary, but had been met with a dismissive, “I don’t trust you to behave.”

“I’m not a child, Eraser. I don’t see why I couldn’t just sit at home.” You wobble behind your escort, heeled boots clacking against the gravel.

As you enter the building, a young mop of violet hair flanks Aizawa down with a stack of papers. The man is nameless to you but is familiar enough to be assumed under your father’s thumb.

Aizawa looks over the document’s now held in front of him with care, rolling up the sleeves to his crisp dress shirt as his eyes scan the pages. You note the shimmering silvered skin of a scar under his left eye, pronounced by the harsh lighting surrounding you. His hair is held up partially by a tie, the loose strands framing his face.

“Are you listening to me, little girl?” You're snapped back from watching his mouth curling around syllables to actually make out what they’ve been saying.

“Go sit down, I’ll only be a few minutes.” You nod along and turn to perch at the bar, but stop at the grip pulling you back for one final order. “Don’t get yourself into trouble.”

Aizawa leaves you to stew in the subtle brush of his pointer finger against the tender skin of your wrist, he rubs the skin subtly before disappearing to the back rooms.

The minutes ticking by are agonizing. Aizawa, usually the epitome of brief, has been gone long enough for the condensation on your glass to mar the wood below it in countless ringlets. You twirl the straw against the strawberry liquor, willing time to crank by faster with the action. The drink in your veins isn’t nearly enough to get you drunk but does make the opening of the front door unnoticeable.

Your back is facing the heavy wood, unaware of the two strangers now approaching until the curdling sound of one man’s voice hits the shell of your ear.

“Well, well, look what we have here. Why don’t I buy you a drink, princess?” Each man steals one of your sides, enclosing you into a tight, predatory huddle.

“This is my bar. I don’t need you to buy me anything.” You try to shake off the nauseating feeling of their bodies so close to you, gut twisting uncomfortably as one man’s breath crawls across your shoulder blades. They’re both so close. Too close.

“Wow, this little kitty cat’s got some claws, don’t she?” You feel hands curl around each bicep, a bruising grip right below your armpits. Your body is hoisted up, your balance off at the jarring upheaval.

Possible escape routes flash across your mind but all seem impossible. Would trying to shake off the still faceless strangers even work? And even if you sprung free, would you make it to the back office before they caught up? Should you try to scream? Would Aizawa hear you?

Before you can make any moves, you feel the flat side of a knife at your collarbone. A chill rattles down your spine at the contact, two inches of metal keeping your entire body compliant.

Their intent is clear, you’ll be coming with them, and by the sharp point of a blade digging into the first layer of skin-- you’ll be coming quietly.

A mixture of shock and disbelief compels your body into compliance, dragging you to the front door and closer towards an awaiting trunk.

“Your carriage, princess.” You hear the shorter man on your right, his voice at your neck sounds waterlogged through the blood rushing in your ears. Any protests die at the knife against your skin, digging in shallowly and pricking a small trail of red along your clavicle.

A sharp snap sounds behind you, like a piece of thin wood under a heavy boot. One of your captors falls in a pile next to you. You’re turned around to meet a familiar pair of venomous, black eyes, Aizawa’s words roll from his tongue with a growl.

You’re pulled at the wrist, stumbling back into the strong chest of your appointed bodyguard.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing with my bunny?”

#aizawa smut #aizawa x reader smut #aizawa x reader #bnha smut #bnha x reader #shouta aizawa #tw: somnophilia #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: weapons

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