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#like excuse me good sir how dare you make me aware of everything
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Helping Hand 3
Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
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"Andy, I'm on my way to work," you say, almost breathless as you charge across the parking lot, "you know, I gotta pay my rent, my water, my electric--"
"Not that easy, is it?" He sneers.
"Excuse me!" You bluster, barely dodging a car as you go to cross to the sidewalk embankment in front of the store, "how dare you--"
"I did you a favour. Accept it. You needed to grow up, be out on your own--"
"Why the fuck did you even call?!" You throw your hand out as you pace along the window of the store. Only he can get you like this. Good riddance, it really is a favour.
"My mom's party--"
"Oh, fuck off. I don't have time for that. I'm working overtime trying to scrape by because you gave me nothing, Andrew! You took everything and gave nothing!"
You tear the phone from your ear and hit your finger against the screen. End call. Bastard. He has you all worked up before a twelve. Probably exactly what he wanted.
You stop and force yourself to catch your breath. You can't walk in like this. You're close to tears. You don't even realise until your nose tingles and you feel the sheen threatening to spill over. You cover your face and huff.
"Oh, dear, are you alright?"
You don't move at first, hoping the voice is talking to someone else. It's too familiar. You slowly drop your hands and look at Jonathan. He must have quite the library if he's here so often. You swallow.
"Yeah, yeah," you like. You are not okay. You wasted twenty years on a man who never loved you. "I'm just about to get started."
You force a smile, cheek twitching as it bulbs. You turn to peek over your shoulder at the purple logos behind the glass. Thank god the barriers hide you from view.
"Ah, well then, shall we go in together? I'm just headed in myself."
"Uh, sure," you nod and drop your purse from your elbow to your hand, stuffing your phone inside. "Thanks."
"Allow me," he rushes ahead of you to the doors, "darling."
He gestures you in first. You precede him, hiding the chagrin that tugs at your forced smile. You see Heather, another trainee, and give her a small wave. She's behind the till doing her morning half-shift before classes.
"Well, uh, I should go put my stuff in the hub," you say over your shoulder, "I have to clock in for the--"
"Mr. Pine," Marcia, the morning manager appears from the Best Sellers display, "how are you?"
"Oh, hello," he greets her brightly, "just another check-in. Holidays are fast approaching. Any word on the truck?"
"Not yet but we're scheduling for it's arrival--"
Your head turns buzzy as you short-circuit. Pine. As in Pine Shelves, the story. He's not a customer at all, he's your goddamn boss. Oh god, as if the day couldn't get worse.
"Pardon, we'll discuss that later," Jonathan tells Marcia, "I was just speaking with this lovely employee. Always so helpful. I see training is going well."
"Ah, she's one of Giselle's, but thank you, sir."
He nods and she takes her cue. She retreats as he faces you. You can't speak. You're stupid with shock and embarrassment.
"I hate to make you late," he grins handsomely, "I wanted to tell you though that my sister loves the bookmark, no word on the book yet."
"Your sister?" You blink.
"Ah, yes, she had a birthday recently," he explains, "I must thank you for your suggestions."
You nod, fighting back the blaze behind your eyes, "no problem, Mr. Pine."
"Oh, dear, Jonathan suits me fine," he fixes his pocket square.
"Alright, um, sorry, I..." you look pointedly at the clock, "can't leave them hanging... sir."
"Hard worker," he praises, "as you will."
He stays as he is as you back away. You spin, nearly walking into the shelf of pens that stands centre of the wide aisle. You quickly skirt around it and scurry into the forest of paperbacks and hardcovers.
You get it. It was all a test. You just hope you past. Certainly, you will know once your probationary period is up. For now, you'll just painstakingly agonize over every word you said to the man.
💙
Your shift finally ends but brings with it little celebration. There is no relief in going home to an empty apartment. The rush of customers kept your mind off of the disaster of your life and now you have nothing to keep you from facing the mess.
You cross the lot, checking the time on your phone as you head for the stop right at the edge of the road. You see the orange letters of the bus banner approach. Shit, it's early.
You break into a run. Oof, you're a bit old for this. As you get to the curb, you're left in a fog of exhaust. The driver doesn't see you as he pulls away and you curse at the moonlight. Of course.
You deflate and fall onto the bench. Your feet hurt, your hips hurt, your back, neck and shoulders. Forty minutes for another bus or you could walk down twenty minutes and catch the connection.
You don't know which is better. Once more, indecisive to a fault. You lean forward and cradle your head. You can't even afford an uber or taxi home. You're better off walking for two hours.
So that's what you'll do. You get up and drag your feet down the unmaintained and crumbling sidewalk. You get to the large intersection and wade through the chaos of lights and impatient drivers.
On the other side, you head towards the light of the Walmart with several stops outside. It will at least be safer than standing in pitch black. As you come up to the edge of the large shopping plaza, a pair of headlights flash over you. On, off, then on again. Then a short toot.
You squint at the sleek black paint and the interior light flicks on. Oh god. You cringe as you make eye contact with Jonathan and he gives a small wave.
Just what you need.
He rolls down his window and sticks his head out, "need a lift?"
You shake your head, "my bus is coming." You point over him.
"Bus? Darling, I insist." You hear the locks slide back, "do get in."
You stare, a deer in actual headlights. You can't afford a taxi, so you sure as shit can't afford to tell your boss no.
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humanmessofaperson · 3 years
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Babe wake up, new bears in trees music just dropped
204 notes · View notes
imagineaworlds · 3 years
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Bunny and Baby -- Poly!BAU Team
(Edited version for a broader audience. You can check out the full version on @hotch-and-bunny)
Written By: @desperately-bisexual
Request: None.
Warnings: Dom/sub relationships, Sir kink, Mistress kink, Ma’am kink, Daddy kink, dirty talk, restraints (handcuffs), collaring, leashes, edging, orgasm control, orgasm denial, ruined orgasms, degradation, mild choking, pegging, impregnation/breeding kink, minimal in-chapter aftercare, though it is alluded to happening afterwards. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, the team refers to them as female when saying “good girl”, “princess”, etc.
Pairing: Nonbinary!Reader (fem anatomy) x BAU Team.
Dynamic (in order of superiority): Sir!Dom!Aaron Hotchner, Ma’am!Dom!Elle Greenaway, Mistress!Dom!Emily Prentiss, Daddy!Dom!Derek Morgan,    switch!Reader (sub in this plot), bunny!sub!Spencer Reid.
Word Count: 7645
Criminal Minds Discord Server
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We had been returning from a case in Louisiana, everyone sitting comfortably in their own seats on the jet. Hotch and I were beside each other— I was pressed between him and the window— Morgan was across from us, Emily and Elle were across the aisle and a row back, and Spencer was laying on the couch. Rossi hadn’t come with us because he had a family emergency. Emily and Elle were the only ones talking while the rest of us were quietly working on our own things; but Spencer was just half asleep on the couch, trying to catch up on some rest. He told us before we boarded that he had another headache that kept him up all night, and we all scolded him for not coming to one of us and seeking help because we always knew what to do to help him. He insisted that it wasn’t a big deal, though. While I didn’t entirely believe him, we all decided to let him rest during the flight.
It wasn’t until there was a bit of turbulence that made me grab onto Hotch’s arm that things got… interesting. The thing was, when it came to Aaron Hotchner, the slightest touch could set him off, and he would get mean because he saw even the simplest of shoulder bumps as a bratty act that needed to be punished. I always had to be careful around him because of that. But I forgot. The plane jumped in the air, my stomach dropped, and before I knew it, I was squeezing his bicep to ground myself as some kind of reminder that I wasn’t going to die or something.
When the turbulence passed, I tore my hand away from Hotch, keeping in mind that I had to keep my hands to myself, but it was too late. He was staring at me. I swallowed hard and tried to go back to my book that Spencer had recommended, which was his attempt to win his favor with me after he pissed me off one day and I wanted to punish him. He was lucky that I wasn’t as mean as Hotch and Emily. Unfortunately for me, however, that meant I was completely fucked because Hotch was still sitting there, staring at me, likely asking himself how I could dare to touch him without permission, even when it was for something as innocent as it had been. I finally dared to look up at him. He was frowning.
“Sir—” I tried to explain myself quietly so that the others couldn’t hear, but he shook his head, silently telling me to stop. I fell silent and gulped.
Hotch, without saying anything, looked back down at the iPad that was sitting on the table in front of him as he was going through emails, scoping out new cases to take on; but what he did after that was somewhat unexpected. His hand closest to me drifted between my thighs. I adjusted in my seat, trying to fix my posture to be “smooth” so that no one else would notice. No one looked up. Hotch continued with his plan, forcing his hand between my thighs, spreading my legs open to give him access to what was beneath my skirt. I should have known that wearing a skirt on the jet was only going to get me in trouble, but with the case having just ended, and with Spencer’s headaches, my attire had been the last thing on my mind. To Hotch, however, it seemed to be the only thing on his mind.
“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered to me. I was surprised Morgan didn’t hear him.
When I nodded, Hotch pressed his index and middle fingers against my panties, finding the sensitive nub that was my clit, hiding behind my labia and the clitoral hood. He was too far. I needed him to press harder to actually feel his fingers, to actually get me to the edge rather than just get needy for him— but my desperation for him and what was about to come was undeniable when he slid his fingers down to hover over my core, discovering a wet spot that was slowly forming. Hotch snickered to himself. I knew that he was probably thinking to himself something along the lines of how he had only just touched me and I was already wet, proving to him that I was always thinking about having one of them— if not all of them— fuck me.
Hotch moved back up to my clit, and he pressed hard enough that I could feel him, but not enough to actually give me everything I wanted. Slowly, he started rubbing circles over my panties. A quiet sigh left my lips as I leaned back in my seat, moved my hips forward to give him better access, and I screwed my eyes shut. There was no doubt that if Morgan happened to look up, he would know exactly what was happening.
As Hotch’s fingers started moving faster, I rolled my hips eagerly to make his pace in an attempt to speed up my orgasm, but he pulled away somewhat and slowed down until I stopped moving and waited politely for him to make another move. He went back to what he was doing suddenly. I tensed and tried my very best to hold still this time while also biting my lip to keep myself from moaning. But I was so close again. So, so close. I just wanted to cum for him.
“Sir, please,” I whispered. “Please.”
“Please, may I cum?”
“Ask Mistress first.”
My eyes widened and I looked at him, but he was still reading his emails, so I looked over at Emily. She was still casually talking to Elle without a single clue as to what a mess I was while sitting next to Hotch. I shook my head. I couldn’t. I couldn’t beg like that randomly when they were all doing their own things. So, Hotch shrugged because he didn’t care one way or the other. If I wasn’t going to ask, he wasn’t going to let me cum, and for him, that was fun and it didn’t matter. But to me, it mattered. His fingers kept rolling over my clit again and again, and it was getting unbearable, it was getting torturous. So, I dared to give in.
I let out an audible moan while leaning forward to grab onto the table to hold my orgasm back, and I croaked, “Mistress—” Everyone stopped what they were doing to look over at me. There I was, clearly falling apart as Hotch’s arm was suspiciously moving in the direction that led just between my thighs. Emily was staring at me. “Mistress, please, may I cum?”
Her mouth fell agape in shock when she realized what it was that Hotch was doing and why I was asking. She looked between me and Hotch. “Have they been good?” she asked him.
“No,” he said nonchalantly.
“Then, no, you may not cum, slut,” she said to me.
I whimpered and increased my grip on the table until my knuckles were turning white. “Please! I’m not going to last!”
“You cum, you get punished,” Morgan said.
“Fuck…” I tried wiggling away from Hotch, but it was useless since I was trapped in the seat next to the window. “Please…” I was breathless now. “Please… I can’t…”
“And what are you doing?” Elle questioned roughly, squinting at Spencer, scolding him for something I couldn’t see.
Spencer floundered and stuttered from the couch. “I— Um. Nothing, Ma’am. I’m sorry. It was nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing.”
“Fuck—” I moved my hips around again with Hotch’s fingers as my orgasm suddenly washed through me, a shiver running down my spine as my toes curled in my shoes, my thighs shook against the leather seat, and my walls clenched around nothing. “Shit.” Hotch slowed his movements as I came down from my high. My eyes quickly scanned the interior of the jet, catching how they were all scowling at me, unpleased with how I had cum without any of their permission. My heart sank in my chest. “I’m sorry.”
“First, Spence starts touching himself without permission,” Elle began as she stood from her seat and started approaching the couch. I sat up a bit in my seat so that I could look over my shoulder to see Spencer sitting up somewhat now, an erection straining his pants, a small wet spot on the front from his pre-cum. “Then, you cum without our permission.” She ran her fingers through Spencer’s hair, then once she was far enough in, she curled her grip, roughly pulling at his curls to make him sit up all the way. “And the two of you still had the audacity to say that you’re sorry. I don’t think they’re actually sorry; do you, Morgan?”
“No,” he answered, also disappointed in us.
“We didn’t train brats,” she hissed, pulling at Spencer’s hair again, making him whimper.
“His headache, Elle—” Emily warned quickly.
Elle froze when she remembered, and she tried removing her grip from Spencer, suddenly aware of how she might have hurt him in her fit of anger. “I’m sorry, Spence—”
But he cut her off by gently taking her wrist and leading her touch back to his hair, encouraging to pull again. “It’s gone.”
“Don’t lie, bunny.”
“I’m not, Ma’am.”
She smirked and tugged again, bringing him to his knees. “Then the two of you have no excuse for misbehaving. Their punishment, Morgan.”
Hotch slid out of his seat and moved to the back of the jet where Emily was still sitting so that there was enough room for Morgan to stand at the same time as I did, knowing that it was better than him grabbing onto my hair, too. When we were both in the aisle, my back close to Elle’s, Morgan caught me off guard by pinching my chin roughly in between his thumb and his other four fingers. I pouted my eyes at him. I was trying to silently beg for mercy, but, of course, it didn’t work.
In fact, it made him chuckle. “Princess, you did this to yourself.”
“Daddy, I’m sorry… Please… I didn’t mean to cum.”
“Then, you should have held it like good girls do.”
“Their punishment, Derek,” Hotch reminded.
Morgan rolled his eyes because he already knew what he was doing and he hated that Hotch thought he needed to be babysat while Domming me, even though he didn’t. Morgan and I had done plenty of scenes together. As the only switch in our relationship, it was easy for me to go visit one of them when I needed to be Dommed, whereas I would go to Spencer if I needed to Dom. Each of them were unique Doms, though, and I would seek them out separately, depending on what I needed. I mean, I lived with Hotch, but he could be cruel, and sometimes, I didn’t need that. Out of all of us, Morgan was the kindest. His punishments were never harsh, and playing with him was always easy, compared to with Emily or Elle, who were on the same wavelength, both masters at torturing me with edges, ruins, forced orgasms. When I needed something light, I went to Morgan. When I needed to be completely out of control, not a single thought in my head, I went to Emily or Elle— usually both at the same time. With Hotch, he was everything that Morgan, Emily, and Elle were, but he was also the one who gave me the harshest punishments. Nipple clamps that he tugged on, floggers, plugs, being tied up and left there for an hour while he was gone, cockwarming me until he came and I didn’t. But Morgan was the one that had dictated my punishment. For cumming, he got to decide what they were going to do with me, which gave me a little bit of hope that it wouldn’t be that bad.
“Hands behind your back,” he demanded.
I did so without hesitation, and he spun me around so that he could cuff my hands together. I had a good view of Spencer and Elle now. He was on his knees in front of her, the two of them watching each other carefully— probably because she was trying to decide if he was lying about his headaches or not, and he was trying to gauge how bad his punishment would be. But she was just playing with his hair. We all loved to do that. I mean, Spencer loved it, too, which was why he did it, and it was the easiest way to ease him in and out of sub space. When I would Dom him, our sessions were usually the same. I’d go to his house to find him kneeling by the door, waiting patiently for me while wearing his cute little collar that we all picked out for him, and then he’d cook dinner for me. Sometimes, if he had been bratty, I’d sit in the living room, using him to balance platters in his hands that held my wine glass, any snacks I had, and sometimes even a book or two. If he ever dropped them, I’d punish him. If not, I’d reward him. For rewards, we’d go to his bedroom where I’d worship his cock, but never getting him close enough to the edge to actually make it 100% pleasant. I liked watching him squirm. Even when he had his best days, he knew that I wasn’t going to immediately let him cum because my favorite part about being his Dom was controlling his orgasms. As for punishments, that usually came with tying him up, flogging him sometimes, ruining his poor, little orgasms to make him whimper pathetically, and overstimulating him. I fucking loved the sounds he made during sex. Usually, I could pry them out of him with just a simple praise, but they were always so sweet when I had him tied to his bed, a plug in his ass, and I was riding every single drop out of him, never stopping even after he came inside of me.
His hair, though… One rough tug at his hair and he was immediately our bunny. For aftercare, his favorite thing was cuddling while we played with his curls. Brushing his hair, curling his strands around our fingers, gently massaging his scalp, all of those things prevented him from sub dropping, and it reassured him that he was safe with us, that we loved him, that he was going to be okay. I loved his hair. In fact, I was obsessed with it. Watching as Elle played with it and he nuzzled against her with a hypnotized, submissive smile on his face, I felt myself lighten up, too.
“Come here, bunny,” Morgan beckoned Spencer over to us. After Elle released him, he crawled around her and stopped just in front of me. “Take their skirt off.” Spencer did as he was told, reaching up for my waistband, quickly pulling my skirt down to my ankles. I helped him by stepping out of them. “Not their panties,” he warned when Spencer moved for those, too. Spencer dropped his hands to his lap. “Can you see how wet Sir made them? The mess they made from breaking the rules?”
Spencer nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Don’t be like them.”
“Spence, where’s your collar?” Elle asked, already digging through his bag that she retrieved from one of the overhead bins. I heard another one open behind me and Morgan, probably something that Hotch or Emily were looking for. “Nevermind.” She found Spencer’s collar and leash in his go-bag and brought it over to us. “Presentation.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Spencer looked up somewhat so that Elle could see where she was positioning the collar over his Adam’s apple, and then he looked down and moved his long hair out of the way so that she could clasp it together.
“Presentation,” Morgan whispered in my ear. So, that was what the other overhead bin had been. Hotch had probably gone digging for my collar, too.
The rule with me and Spencer was that we weren’t allowed to wear our collars in public because the whole point of kink was that all parties were consenting adults at all times. If someone wasn’t consenting to the scene, it had to stop immediately. The thing with wearing an obvious O-collar out and about was that the general public couldn’t consent to viewing it. Yes, it looked like a choker if you were oblivious, but it still wasn’t fair. And we didn’t like to draw attention to ourselves, anyhow. So, Spencer and I could never wear our collars in public, but we always had to bring them in our go-bags in case a situation like this arose where we were at the hotel and needed to submit, or, yes, even on the jet. This had only happened once before, though, to be fair.
When Morgan finished clasping my collar around my neck, he pushed me to my knees, my face even with Spencer’s. His breath was hot on my nose, our lips so close I could nearly taste him, but Elle tugged on his leash, pulling him back, and Morgan tugged on mine, pulling me back. We both whimpered at the feeling. “You don’t get to touch each other,” Morgan hissed. “In fact, Y/N, you don’t get to touch anyone at all.” My eyes widened and I looked up at Elle, almost as if I could read the look on her face to see how the rest of them were feeling behind me. 
She was smirking. “Bunny’s so hard…” Elle teased, pulling on Spencer’s leash to have him lean back against her thighs. “Aren’t you?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he admitted.
“You’re lucky that you only palmed yourself without permission. If you would have done anything worse, we’d be making your punishment no-touch, like Y/N. What do you say to us for sparing you that torture?”
“Thank you.”
“Good boy.”
“Let’s move them to the front,” Morgan told Elle so that she could pull Spencer onto the couch to give him room to make me crawl towards the front of the jet where no one would bother me. “Go on,” he encouraged. I started crawling, and when I made it where he wanted me, he had me turn around so that I was facing the entirety of the team. “Now, you get to sit here and watch.”
“Daddy?” I questioned, unsure of what he meant.
“And not talk.” He crouched and kissed me gently. “This is what you get for breaking the rules.”
“It’s useless to keep apologizing; isn’t it?” Around Morgan, I could talk to him like that, which was a little more casual than most scenes called for, but with the others, I could never say anything like that. Morgan understood, though. He nodded and kissed me again. “Give me a toy, at least. Edge me, ruin me— Anything.”
“No.” He stood back up.
Elle had Spencer’s pants on the ground now, and Emily had moved to the couch to peel his shirt off. As Morgan approached them, Hotch moved closer, too. I watched as the four of them dedicated their entire attention to Spencer, kissing his jawline, nibbling on his earlobe, running their thumbs over his sensitive nipples, and Elle worked her hand down under his briefs. I rolled my hips around for friction against my soaked panties when I heard Spencer let out a breathless moan just before Hotch kissed him to shut him up.
“Don’t let him edge,” Emily warned as Elle continued to play with Spencer inside of his underwear.
“Aw,” Elle cooed with false sympathy against his cheekbone, “is bunny already close?”
He nodded eagerly while pulling away from his kiss with Hotch. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Well, I think it’s only fair to make you ask Mistress for permission the same way Y/N had to.”
He turned his head to look up at Emily. “Please, Mistress?” He sounded just as desperate and pathetic as I had. “May I cum?”
“You touched without permission, though, bunny,” she said to him. He shook his head, knowing that was her answer without saying what she actually meant. “I know that listening to Y/N beg was overwhelming for you…”
She dragged her nails down his chest, making his chest tense up. I saw the way his little stomach sucked in, and I whimpered again. I wanted that to be me touching him. I loved the little tummy he had now since we had helped him get over his addiction since Mexico. He was so healthy now, which meant eating well, something we regulated, and it gave him a cute, healthy, tummy that showed when he was wearing his belts with a button down shirt. I loved praising that part of him. Sometimes, it was obvious how self-conscious it could make him, but when we let him know how much we loved it and how proud we were of his progress since Mexico, he would love it, too.
Spencer bucked up when Elle pulled her hand out of his underwear, leaving him hanging on the edge. Hotch grabbed Spencer’s hips and pushed him back down onto the couch with a huff, probably still angry about me, but now it was worse since Spencer was acting up. I saw Spencer’s cock twitch helplessly behind the constraints of his clothes. He was trying to reach for someone’s hand again, but Morgan collected his wrists together and took Elle’s handcuffs, using them to restrain Spencer the same way I was restrained.
“Please,” he pleaded. “Something. Anything. Please.”
“My bag, Hotch,” Emily muttered, focusing on getting Spencer out of his underwear now. He let out a sigh of relief when his cock bounced freely against his stomach. Hotch scrambled to Emily’s go-bag at the back of the plane and started digging in it for something. “The red one—”
“I know,” he grumbled. “I know.”
He pulled out three things, holding them up long enough for me to inspect from where I was kneeling on the opposite side of the jet. The red strap on that Emily loved to fuck Spence with, a bottle of lube to help him take her easier, and the worst part… Honestly, I didn’t know what was worse, what I was enduring or what torture was awaiting Spencer with the last toy Hotch retrieved. I didn’t even realize Emily carried it around with her. How did she even think to bring such a thing? I mean, I understood the red strap and the lube, but… that? I almost felt bad for Spencer. At least I got to cum earlier, even though I wasn’t supposed to, but it seemed like they didn’t want Spencer to cum at all. I felt sorry for him. If I wasn’t so far into sub space, I probably would’ve snickered with the rest of them, thinking about all of the wicked ways I could have tortured him with it, but… No, I couldn’t while we were both being punished.
“If you want to touch so bad,” Hotch said while returning to the couch, “then we’ll touch.” Spencer’s eyes widened when he saw the last toy. “But we won’t let you cum.”
He struggled against his Doms’ holds as Hotch knelt down to begin the tedious process of sliding the tight metal cock ring over Spencer’s length. Spencer cursed at the feelings. I had no doubts that the ring was cold to the touch— which was an unbearable feeling for him— and it was probably so tight on him… When it reached his base, it kept all of the blood right where it needed to be to ensure he stayed hard. And then Hotch grabbed the string version of the cock ring, which was entirely adjustable, so he slid it over Spencer’s balls and tightened it. Spencer cried out.
“Sir—” Spencer moaned pleasantly as Hotch suddenly dipped down and wrapped his lips around Spencer’s cock. “Thank you, Sir.”
Emily came over to torture me. She pulled at my leash, choking me, tugging my head back somewhat. “Keep your eyes on Spence.”
My gaze was narrowed down my cheeks and my nose so that I could watch as Hotch slowly licked his tongue around Spencer’s sensitive tip that was still leaking pre-cum. I knew he tasted good. I knew that he was probably a leaking, pathetic mess, and Hotch was enjoying every second of torturing him; and I wished that it were me instead of Hotch.
Without warning, Emily pressed her index finger against my clit, making me jolt.
“Fuck!”
Emily snickered and started rubbing my clit faster.
“Mistress, I’m close. Please.”
“No.” She kissed the tip of my nose before pulling her touch away. I leaned forward to regain her touch, but she was already walking away. “Lemme fuck him,” she told Hotch, wiping some of the sweat off of Spencer’s forehead.
“I want to warm him up first,” Elle said eagerly. Hotch released Spencer from his mouth and pushed himself to his feet. “Turn him over.”
Morgan and Emily worked together to get Spencer on his knees on the floor, and they pressed his chest against the couch. Emily tugged at his leash to keep him distracted when he looked over at me with a painful, silent plea for help— help which I couldn’t give. He accepted his fate, closing his eyes as he waited for the next step.
“Let me hold him,” I begged. “Please. I’ll serve you all while I do it!”
Elle squirted some of the lube onto her index and middle fingers before rubbing them up and down Spencer’s slit. He tensed up. “Fine,” she said, still concentrating on him. “Come here.”
Morgan sat on the couch, his thigh just beside Spencer’s head so that we couldn’t make eye contact from where I was anymore. I started crawling towards all of them, letting Morgan pick up my leash when I was close enough so that he could tug me forward. He spread his legs so that I was sitting between his knees. “Suck,” he commanded, beginning to take his pants off.
I took the moment with nothing to do as an opportunity to finally turn my head to look at Spencer who still had his cheek pressed against the couch. I leaned down and kissed him. He perked up and started kissing me back. Just as it got more intense, the two of us fighting for dominance in our kiss, I felt him suddenly back down when Elle slid her fingers into his tight hole, causing him to moan against my lips. Our hands were still trapped behind our backs, so I couldn’t hold him steady to encourage him to keep kissing me, I couldn’t tangle my hands in his hair, and I couldn’t even reach to hold his hands as they struggled in his cuffs.
“Baby girl,” Morgan called, waiting for me.
“Stop ignoring him,” Hotch hissed, pushing my panties to the side and sliding his thumb into me. “Shit.” He sounded so turned on. “Fuck, baby.”
“You and bunny,” Elle chuckled. “The two of you can never hold it together. Pathetic.”
Spencer and I moaned happily in response to the degradation.
Morgan, now completely impatient, held my head between his palms, tore me away from Spencer, then turned my gaze before pushing my mouth onto his cock. He kept moving me until I gagged. I felt Spencer rut against the couch when Elle must have curled her fingers against his prostate or something, and I followed suit when I felt Hotch replace his short thumb with his long cock. I thought I was supposed to be facing punishment— Not that I was arguing. Even if I could talk, I wouldn’t have brought it up, because at least I finally got him. He always felt so good. He was so long, but not as thick as Morgan, not that it mattered. Both of them knew how to please me, and that was what mattered more than anything.
“Jesus, baby girl,” Morgan moaned, throwing his head back.
“He’s ready,” Elle said. Spencer whimpered when there was a loss of contact between them after she pulled out of him and stepped away, giving Emily room to kneel behind him and line up her cock with his ass. “Are you going to be good for us, bunny? No cumming?”
Spencer whined. “I don’t know, Ma’am.”
“Promise or we won’t fuck you.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he insisted quickly, realizing his mistake. “I won’t cum. I promise.”
“Good boy.”
Suddenly, he was pushed forward when Emily roughly thrust into him. I pulled my mouth off Morgan long enough for me to catch my breath and moan as Hotch continued fucking me softly to torture me, and I looked over to see Emily showing no remorse with Spencer. Poor thing. Elle had stretched him, and Emily took a second to let him adjust, but now he was ruined. Absolutely destroyed. He was going to be wobbling on our way off the jet when we would land, I just knew it. 
“I didn’t say you could stop, slut,” Morgan growled, grabbing me by the hair this time to make sure that I wouldn’t move away from him this time. I groaned as I took all of him in my mouth again. Just as he willed it, I bobbed my head up and down, my jaw slack, my tongue flat, my throat open to stop the gagging because he was using me as a hole and nothing else, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Hotch pissed me off suddenly by reaching under me to grab my breasts through my shirt, making me roll my hips eagerly against him. “So greedy.” He thrust roughly into me in an attempt to warn me off of acting out again, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to cum. I had to cum. I needed some kind of relief. “Don’t you fucking dare—” He pulled out of me when he felt me tighten around him. “Brat.” He spanked me hard. “Elle.”
“I thought you understood that we didn’t train brats, baby,” Elle said, backing Hotch up. She teased her cleaned and re-lubed fingers at my ass now while Hotch realigned with my pussy. “You and bunny don’t get to cum.”
I moaned around Derek’s length as Elle and Hotch both thrusted into me simultaneously. He gave me every single inch he had to offer, making sure I felt just how big he was, the way he could reach deep places inside of me that made my knees weak every time. As for Elle, her approach had been a bit slower so that she could be safe. When her fingers were moving in me, she only put them in about half way before gently pulling them out and pushing them back in, this time all the way to the bottom knuckle, and then she curled her fingers. Morgan held me steady as I moaned around him again. The three of them working together to fill each of my holes was… I mean, they had all filled me further before, but this just felt so different… so good…
“Mmm—” Morgan bucked his hips up so that he could fuck my face harder. “I’m gonna cum.” He panted as his fingers gripped my hair harder. He let out a grunt as his whole body tensed, his orgasm finally hitting him like a train. As his cum spilled into my mouth, I used his hesitancy as a chance to finally move my tongue around, stimulating his shaft, making him twitch and squirm a bit more, and I hummed happily around him to make it even worse. They were torturing me, the least I could do was slyly return the favor. “Shit, baby!” He pulled me off before I could continue overstimulating. “Fuck.” His thumb caressed my cheek lovingly for a second. “Go on. Swallow.” I shook my head. I couldn’t. I couldn’t take anything more. I was so full, I felt like I was going to explode. He furrowed his brows. “Swallow, slut.” I kept shaking my head, and I tried to escape Elle and Hotch so that I could find somewhere to spit, but they held my hips still while Morgan grabbed my face. “Swallow.”
I searched his eyes for a moment, quickly realizing that he wasn’t going to release me until I did as he asked. Even if the jet landed and we were supposed to be getting off, probably to head back to mine and Hotch’s place to finish all of this, Morgan was going  to sit there with me until I swallowed. I had no choice. While keeping my gaze even with his, I slowly swallowed the load he gave me. When I was done, I opened my mouth to prove my success, and he finally let go of me while grinning.
“Was that so hard?” he teased.
“Mistress,” Spencer moaned, his voice muffled somewhat, “I can’t take it anymore.”
Morgan and I looked away from each other to investigate what was happening, and it was just as our attention was brought to him that we saw Spencer slump as he gave up. Emily was still fucking him, don’t get me worng, but his poor, red, needy cock was leaking, begging for the cock rings to be taken off so that he could ejaculate— and he just couldn’t take the denial anymore. He couldn’t take being on the brink constantly. Holding his posture for her so that he could fuck his ass, keeping his head turned so that we could hear his pathetic noises, all of that meant nothing to him now. They had finally broken him.
“It hurts,” he complained.
“Color,” she whispered, brushing his curls back so that she could lean over his back and start kissing his neck lovingly.
“Green, but I can’t… I can’t… I’m gonna—”
“The two of you and not being able to hold it today,” Elle scolded, moving her fingers faster inside of my ass. “It’s like we need to teach you guys how to behave again and work on your stamina.”
Spencer and I quickly exchanged a worried glance. We hadn’t done stamina in so long. This was close, sure, but actual stamina training with Elle was the worst— especially if Hotch were there. They liked to tie me and Spencer up so that couldn’t move a single muscle, and then they’d press a vibrator against my clit while Spencer got the fleshlight. For hours, we would have to lay there, edging again and again as Hotch and Elle turned on my vibrator and started fucking the fleshlight over Spencer’s cock, and then they’d stop when we were close enough. It was torture. They purposefully gave us hard edges. The longer we went, the more rewards we earned for the week, but if we came, they ruined our orgasms before painfully continuing, and all of it was for the sake of increasing our stamina during sex and teaching us how to hold back our orgasms until we had permission. It worked after a while. Spencer was a lot worse at it than I was, but we finally got the hang of it, and the two of us were pretty good about holding out until we had proper permission; but there was just something about the atmosphere of being on the jet compared to being at someone’s house or in a hotel room that had our brains melted down to nothing. I had orgasmed once without permission, and there were multiple occasions while Hotch and Elle were fucking me from behind that I felt myself getting there again— and if they weren’t so good about pulling away on time to edge me, I would have cum again without permission, regardless of the punishment. But Spencer… He was trying so hard to be their good boy. He had touched himself without permission, which he knew wasn’t allowed, so he had accepted that he wasn’t allowed to cum, but those cock rings were straining against him, practically milking him considering the way he was leaking so helplessly; and it was just too much for him. He couldn’t take it anymore.
“Bunny, if you cum, we’re going to have to put you in your cage,” Emily warned.
“We should anyways,” Hotch panted from behind me.
Spencer shook his head urgently. “No. Please. I’ll be good. I- I prom… I promise.” He sighed as Emily changed her pace while fucking him. “I promise.” It sounded like he was crying now. “I promise…” Our little broken record. “I promise.” Not a single thought in that pretty head of his.
Hotch pulled out of me suddenly and he snatched away Elle’s fingers. My legs shook as my sudden, unexpected, unplanned orgasm was completely ruined. I hadn’t seen it coming. One second, I was watching Spencer fall apart, the next, I was clenching around nothing as my orgasm peaked yet I got no relief from the feeling since they had removed the stimulation when I needed it most. My clit was throbbing. I fell, just like Spencer, my cheek crashing against Morgan’s warm thigh.
“Their cuffs,” Hotch said pressingly. Morgan reached for his pants that were pooled at his ankles, and he grabbed the key from his pocket, then he handed it off to Hotch. “We’re done with you, baby girl,” he told me. I shook my head. I needed to cum. I had to… I had to cum… Geez, I felt as broken as Spencer looked. “Can you stand?” I shook my head again. “Okay…” He freed my hands and rubbed my wrists to ease the pain from every time I struggled against the metal bondings. “How bad is it?” he asked, taking my leash and gently tugging, a signal that he wanted me to turn around face him. I did so. When he saw my face, he chuckled, and Elle followed shortly, the two of them so impressed by how broken I must have looked. I knew that my hair was a mess, my eyes and bottom lip were pouting, and my legs were still shaking. I looked ridiculous. “That bad, princess?” He stroked his cock at the sight of me.
“Fuck them again like this,” Elle encouraged seductively in his ear. “Both of them on their backs…” she said a little louder so that everyone could hear her. “Taking what we give them.”
Hotch fell in love with the idea, immediately shooing Morgan off the couch so that he could throw me onto it. I yelped as I landed on the cushions. My right thigh was just next to Spencer’s face— so close that I could feel his pants against my skin— and Hotch, Elle, and Morgan were standing just in front of me, licking their hips with lust and hunger in their eyes. Hotch was still running his grip up and down his length at the sight of me.
“Look at the mess we made, bunny.” Morgan reached over and pulled at Spencer’s hair, pulling him upright so that his back was pressed flush against Emily’s chest as she used the new angle to fuck him harder and deeper. Spencer’s engorged penis twitched at the sight of me. My panties were soaked with a mixture of my wetness and cum. “Don’t they look so stupid?”
Spencer nodded while screwing his shut in response to Emily’s cock hitting a new spot inside of him. “Yes, Daddy. They look so good.”
I rolled my hips around, butterflies fluttering in my stomach. My whole body was on fire, and I just needed someone to touch me again. I needed to touch Spencer, which was the worst part, because I knew that they wouldn’t let me, and even if I could, a single touch was going to set him off, and I would’ve felt bad if they ruined him, too. 
“You want me, baby?” Hotch teased, gliding his thumbs over my hard nipples through my shirt.
I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“You want me to breed you?”
I let out a shaky breath before gulping and nodding. “Yes, Sir.”
He stopped fucking with me and he instead went back to stroking his cock. “I know you want to cum, baby,” he cooed, “but you can’t… Rules are rules.” He started fucking his fist faster. “Good girls get to cum.” His breath was ragged now. “You weren’t good.”
Elle grabbed his face and turned him so that they were suddenly kissing, and he pushed his hand past her pants and panties so that he could press a finger directly against her clit. They moaned together.
“I’m going to cum,” Spencer warned. Morgan was holding his leash taut, forcing Spencer to keep his back against Emily’s chest while she moaned into his neck and left a hundred different hickies. “Please. Please, Mistress.”
“No.”
“I can’t hold it.” He was leaking onto my knee now, that was how close together we were.
“I said, no. You cum, you get caged.”
“Fuck—” What Emily said did the opposite of what she had intended. Instead of deterring him from cumming, the threat of being locked up in a cock cage enticed Spencer, tipping him over the edge that he needed so badly. “I’m cumming!”
Just as his dick started twitching, Elle jumped into action, quickly grabbing my hips and turning me so that Spencer was lined up between my legs, and she pushed my panties to the side. Emily fucked harshly into Spencer as he started cumming. The force of her action jolted Spencer forward, putting his tip directly at my entrance. We both moaned at the feeling. I needed him, and it seemed he needed me, because when he felt how wet I was, his weak, repressed load slowly poured into me. He had tried to hold back. I could tell with how sad his orgasm was and how he was whimpering that he didn’t want to cum. He wanted to be good for them. But Emily fucking him, Morgan trying to choke him with the collar, the cock rings squeezing his penis and swollen balls, and my torture that he was witnessing was all too stimulating to every single one of his senses. He had to cum the same way I had to cum earlier when they denied my orgasm.
Emily stopped fucking him to make sure that the orgasm was shorter and to ensure that he didn’t go any further into me than necessary. They wanted his cum to be inside of me, but that was it. They didn’t want either of us to enjoy it.
Without warning, Hotch grabbed my hips away from Elle, putting me back where I was so that I was facing him, and he thrust into me suddenly, cumming within an instant, too. “Fuck…”
He came much harder than Spencer had because he wanted to give me everything, to fulfill the breeding kink we had. All I felt was the stretch and the warmth of his semen, though, because he refused to thrust to help ride out his high since it would have inevitably pleased me, too, and that wasn’t the point. He wanted me to be full and to get nothing out of it.
When he caught his breath, he pulled out of me slowly. I whined at the loss. “Did you learn a valuable lesson?” he questioned.
I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“Which was?”
“No cumming without permission. Ever. Under any circumstances. My orgasms don’t belong to me.”
“Good girl. Go clean yourself up in the bathroom then come back for water, a snack, and play with Spencer’s hair.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “I’m proud of you, baby.”
I melted at the praise. “Really, Sir? Even though I broke a thousand rules?”
“Even then. You did good.”
Emily got the cuffs off Spencer, and he immediately went to pry off the cock rings, but Morgan slapped his hands away. Spencer stared at me as Morgan started gently pulling off the metal one around his shaft. “Daddy,” he hissed, his eyes clenching shut. Emily and Elle were running their fingers through Spencer’s hair already to help him calm down. “Fuck,” he gasped when it was off. “Thank you.” He then prepared himself as Morgan went to release the tie that was around Spencer’s balls. When the pressure was gone, Spencer slumped, falling somewhat, and we all reached forward to catch him. “Thank you.” Hotch kissed Spencer’s temple and pulled him onto his lap on the couch. “I’m sorry for cumming without permission.”
“We’ll call it even, bunny,” Morgan said, referencing how I had done the same thing. “You and baby did so well.”
Elle grabbed the lotion from Spencer’s bag that he used for aftercare, and she started massaging it between his cheeks as Hotch continued to hold him. “You, too,” she told me while still tending to Spence. I went to sit down, but Emily beat me to it, taking the only spot left beside Hotch, and she patted her hands on her lap. I laid over her the same way Spencer was on Hotch. Our faces were close again.
“May we?” Spencer begged.
“Yes,” Morgan answered.
Just as Elle started using her other hand to massage some lotion onto my ass, Spencer and I started kissing. He tasted so good. It was comforting rather than erotic, and I felt myself slowly easing out of sub space in a way that didn’t let me drop. I hoped that he was okay, too.
I ran my fingers through his curls. “I love you, Spence.”
He kissed me harder before mumbling, “I love you, too.”
----
criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc​ @Braty-angel
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aot-brainrot · 3 years
Text
Bunny and Baby ~ Poly!BAU Team
(Full version for a smaller audience. You can check out the edited version on @imagineaworlds​​)
Written By: @desperately-bisexual​
Request: None.
Warnings: Dom/sub relationships, Sir kink, Mistress kink, Ma’am kink, Daddy kink, dirty talk, restraints (handcuffs), collaring, leashes, edging, orgasm control, orgasm denial, bladder control, degradation, mild choking, control, pegging, impregnation/breeding kink, minimal in-chapter aftercare, though it is alluded to happening afterwards. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, the team refers to them as female when saying “good girl”, “princess”, etc.
Pairing: Nonbinary!Reader (fem anatomy) x BAU Team.
Dynamic (in order of superiority): Sir!Dom!Aaron Hotchner, Ma’am!Dom!Elle Greenaway, Mistress!Dom!Emily Prentiss, Daddy!Dom!Derek Morgan,    switch!Reader (sub in this plot), bunny!sub!Spencer Reid.
Word Count: 9700
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We had been returning from a case in Louisiana, everyone sitting comfortably in their own seats on the jet. Hotch and I were beside each other— I was pressed between him and the window— Morgan was across from us, Emily and Elle were across the aisle and a row back, and Spencer was laying on the couch. Rossi hadn’t come with us because he had a family emergency. Emily and Elle were the only ones talking while the rest of us were quietly working on our own things; but Spencer was just half asleep on the couch, trying to catch up on some rest. He told us before we boarded that he had another headache that kept him up all night, and we all scolded him for not coming to one of us and seeking help because we always knew what to do to help him. He insisted that it wasn’t a big deal, though. While I didn’t entirely believe him, we all decided to let him rest during the flight.
It wasn’t until there was a bit of turbulence that made me grab onto Hotch’s arm that things got… interesting. The thing was, when it came to Aaron Hotchner, the slightest touch could set him off, and he would get mean because he saw even the simplest of shoulder bumps as a bratty act that needed to be punished. I always had to be careful around him because of that. But I forgot. The plane jumped in the air, my stomach dropped, and before I knew it, I was squeezing his bicep to ground myself as some kind of reminder that I wasn’t going to die or something.
When the turbulence passed, I tore my hand away from Hotch, keeping in mind that I had to keep my hands to myself, but it was too late. He was staring at me. I swallowed hard and tried to go back to my book that Spencer had recommended, which was his attempt to win his favor with me after he pissed me off one day and I wanted to punish him. He was lucky that I wasn’t as mean as Hotch and Emily. Unfortunately for me, however, that meant I was completely fucked because Hotch was still sitting there, staring at me, likely asking himself how I could dare to touch him without permission, even when it was for something as innocent as it had been. I finally dared to look up at him. He was frowning.
“Sir—” I tried to explain myself quietly so that the others couldn’t hear, but he shook his head, silently telling me to stop. I fell silent and gulped.
Hotch, without saying anything, looked back down at the iPad that was sitting on the table in front of him as he was going through emails, scoping out new cases to take on; but what he did after that was somewhat unexpected. His hand closest to me drifted between my thighs. I adjusted in my seat, trying to fix my posture to be “smooth” so that no one else would notice. No one looked up. Hotch continued with his plan, forcing his hand between my thighs, spreading my legs open to give him access to what was beneath my skirt. I should have known that wearing a skirt on the jet was only going to get me in trouble, but with the case having just ended, and with Spencer’s headaches, my attire had been the last thing on my mind. To Hotch, however, it seemed to be the only thing on his mind.
“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered to me. I was surprised Morgan didn’t hear him.
When I nodded, Hotch pressed his index and middle fingers against my panties, finding the sensitive nub that was my clit, hiding behind my labia and the clitoral hood. He was too far. I needed him to press harder to actually feel his fingers, to actually get me to the edge rather than just get needy for him— but my desperation for him and what was about to come was undeniable when he slid his fingers down to hover over my core, discovering a wet spot that was slowly forming. Hotch snickered to himself. I knew that he was probably thinking to himself something along the lines of how he had only just touched me and I was already wet, proving to him that I was always thinking about having one of them— if not all of them— fuck me.
Hotch moved back up to my clit, and he pressed hard enough that I could feel him, but not enough to actually give me everything I wanted. Slowly, he started rubbing circles over my panties. A quiet sigh left my lips as I leaned back in my seat, moved my hips forward to give him better access, and I screwed my eyes shut. There was no doubt that if Morgan happened to look up, he would know exactly what was happening.
As Hotch’s fingers started moving faster, I rolled my hips eagerly to make his pace in an attempt to speed up my orgasm, but he pulled away somewhat and slowed down until I stopped moving and waited politely for him to make another move. He went back to what he was doing suddenly. I tensed and tried my very best to hold still this time while also biting my lip to keep myself from moaning. But I was so close again. So, so close. I just wanted to cum for him.
“Sir, please,” I whispered. “Please.”
“Please, may I cum?”
“Ask Mistress first.”
My eyes widened and I looked at him, but he was still reading his emails, so I looked over at Emily. She was still casually talking to Elle without a single clue as to what a mess I was while sitting next to Hotch. I shook my head. I couldn’t. I couldn’t beg like that randomly when they were all doing their own things. So, Hotch shrugged because he didn’t care one way or the other. If I wasn’t going to ask, he wasn’t going to let me cum, and for him, that was fun and it didn’t matter. But to me, it mattered. His fingers kept rolling over my clit again and again, and it was getting unbearable, it was getting torturous. So, I dared to give in.
I let out an audible moan while leaning forward to grab onto the table to hold my orgasm back, and I croaked, “Mistress—” Everyone stopped what they were doing to look over at me. There I was, clearly falling apart as Hotch’s arm was suspiciously moving in the direction that led just between my thighs. Emily was staring at me. “Mistress, please, may I cum?”
Her mouth fell agape in shock when she realized what it was that Hotch was doing and why I was asking. She looked between me and Hotch. “Have they been good?” she asked him.
“No,” he said nonchalantly.
“Then, no, you may not cum, slut,” she said to me.
I whimpered and increased my grip on the table until my knuckles were turning white. “Please! I’m not going to last!”
“You cum, you get punished,” Morgan said.
“Fuck…” I tried wiggling away from Hotch, but it was useless since I was trapped in the seat next to the window. “Please…” I was breathless now. “Please… I can’t…”
“And what are you doing?” Elle questioned roughly, squinting at Spencer, scolding him for something I couldn’t see.
Spencer floundered and stuttered from the couch. “I— Um. Nothing, Ma’am. I’m sorry. It was nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing.”
“Fuck—” I moved my hips around again with Hotch’s fingers as my orgasm suddenly washed through me, a shiver running down my spine as my toes curled in my shoes, my thighs shook against the leather seat, and my walls clenched around nothing. “Shit.” Hotch slowed his movements as I came down from my high. My eyes quickly scanned the interior of the jet, catching how they were all scowling at me, unpleased with how I had cum without any of their permission. My heart sank in my chest. “I’m sorry.”
“First, Spence starts touching himself without permission,” Elle began as she stood from her seat and started approaching the couch. I sat up a bit in my seat so that I could look over my shoulder to see Spencer sitting up somewhat now, an erection straining his pants, a small wet spot on the front from his pre-cum. “Then, you cum without our permission.” She ran her fingers through Spencer’s hair, then once she was far enough in, she curled her grip, roughly pulling at his curls to make him sit up all the way. “And the two of you still had the audacity to say that you’re sorry. I don’t think they’re actually sorry; do you, Morgan?”
“No,” he answered, also disappointed in us.
“We didn’t train brats,” she hissed, pulling at Spencer’s hair again, making him whimper.
“His headache, Elle—” Emily warned quickly.
Elle froze when she remembered, and she tried removing her grip from Spencer, suddenly aware of how she might have hurt him in her fit of anger. “I’m sorry, Spence—”
But he cut her off by gently taking her wrist and leading her touch back to his hair, encouraging to pull again. “It’s gone.”
“Don’t lie, bunny.”
“I’m not, Ma’am.”
She smirked and tugged again, bringing him to his knees. “Then the two of you have no excuse for misbehaving. Their punishment, Morgan.”
Hotch slid out of his seat and moved to the back of the jet where Emily was still sitting so that there was enough room for Morgan to stand at the same time as I did, knowing that it was better than him grabbing onto my hair, too. When we were both in the aisle, my back close to Elle’s, Morgan caught me off guard by pinching my chin roughly in between his thumb and his other four fingers. I pouted my eyes at him. I was trying to silently beg for mercy, but, of course, it didn’t work.
In fact, it made him chuckle. “Princess, you did this to yourself.”
“Daddy, I’m sorry… Please… I didn’t mean to cum.”
“Then, you should have held it like good girls do.”
“Their punishment, Derek,” Hotch reminded.
Morgan rolled his eyes because he already knew what he was doing and he hated that Hotch thought he needed to be babysat while Domming me, even though he didn’t. Morgan and I had done plenty of scenes together. As the only switch in our relationship, it was easy for me to go visit one of them when I needed to be Dommed, whereas I would go to Spencer if I needed to Dom. Each of them were unique Doms, though, and I would seek them out separately, depending on what I needed. I mean, I lived with Hotch, but he could be cruel, and sometimes, I didn’t need that. Out of all of us, Morgan was the kindest. His punishments were never harsh, and playing with him was always easy, compared to with Emily or Elle, who were on the same wavelength, both masters at torturing me with edges, ruins, forced orgasms. When I needed something light, I went to Morgan. When I needed to be completely out of control, not a single thought in my head, I went to Emily or Elle— usually both at the same time. With Hotch, he was everything that Morgan, Emily, and Elle were, but he was also the one who gave me the harshest punishments. Nipple clamps that he tugged on, floggers, plugs, being tied up and left there for an hour while he was gone, cockwarming me until he came and I didn’t. But Morgan was the one that had dictated my punishment. For cumming, he got to decide what they were going to do with me, which gave me a little bit of hope that it wouldn’t be that bad.
“Hands behind your back,” he demanded.
I did so without hesitation, and he spun me around so that he could cuff my hands together. I had a good view of Spencer and Elle now. He was on his knees in front of her, the two of them watching each other carefully— probably because she was trying to decide if he was lying about his headaches or not, and he was trying to gauge how bad his punishment would be. But she was just playing with his hair. We all loved to do that. I mean, Spencer loved it, too, which was why he did it, and it was the easiest way to ease him in and out of sub space. When I would Dom him, our sessions were usually the same. I’d go to his house to find him kneeling by the door, waiting patiently for me while wearing his cute little collar that we all picked out for him, and then he’d cook dinner for me. Sometimes, if he had been bratty, I’d sit in the living room, using him to balance platters in his hands that held my wine glass, any snacks I had, and sometimes even a book or two. If he ever dropped them, I’d punish him. If not, I’d reward him. For rewards, we’d go to his bedroom where I’d worship his cock, but never getting him close enough to the edge to actually make it 100% pleasant. I liked watching him squirm. Even when he had his best days, he knew that I wasn’t going to immediately let him cum because my favorite part about being his Dom was controlling his orgasms. As for punishments, that usually came with tying him up, flogging him sometimes, ruining his poor, little orgasms to make him whimper pathetically, and overstimulating him. I fucking loved the sounds he made during sex. Usually, I could pry them out of him with just a simple praise, but they were always so sweet when I had him tied to his bed, a plug in his ass, and I was riding every single drop out of him, never stopping even after he came inside of me.
His hair, though… One rough tug at his hair and he was immediately our bunny. For aftercare, his favorite thing was cuddling while we played with his curls. Brushing his hair, curling his strands around our fingers, gently massaging his scalp, all of those things prevented him from sub dropping, and it reassured him that he was safe with us, that we loved him, that he was going to be okay. I loved his hair. In fact, I was obsessed with it. Watching as Elle played with it and he nuzzled against her with a hypnotized, submissive smile on his face, I felt myself lighten up, too.
“Come here, bunny,” Morgan beckoned Spencer over to us. After Elle released him, he crawled around her and stopped just in front of me. “Take their skirt off.” Spencer did as he was told, reaching up for my waistband, quickly pulling my skirt down to my ankles. I helped him by stepping out of them. “Not their panties,” he warned when Spencer moved for those, too. Spencer dropped his hands to his lap. “Can you see how wet Sir made them? The mess they made from breaking the rules?”
Spencer nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Don’t be like them.”
“Spence, where’s your collar?” Elle asked, already digging through his bag that she retrieved from one of the overhead bins. I heard another one open behind me and Morgan, probably something that Hotch or Emily were looking for. “Nevermind.” She found Spencer’s collar and leash in his go-bag and brought it over to us. “Presentation.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Spencer looked up somewhat so that Elle could see where she was positioning the collar over his Adam’s apple, and then he looked down and moved his long hair out of the way so that she could clasp it together.
“Presentation,” Morgan whispered in my ear. So, that was what the other overhead bin had been. Hotch had probably gone digging for my collar, too.
The rule with me and Spencer was that we weren’t allowed to wear our collars in public because the whole point of kink was that all parties were consenting adults at all times. If someone wasn’t consenting to the scene, it had to stop immediately. The thing with wearing an obvious O-collar out and about was that the general public couldn’t consent to viewing it. Yes, it looked like a choker if you were oblivious, but it still wasn’t fair. And we didn’t like to draw attention to ourselves, anyhow. So, Spencer and I could never wear our collars in public, but we always had to bring them in our go-bags in case a situation like this arose where we were at the hotel and needed to submit, or, yes, even on the jet. This had only happened once before, though, to be fair.
When Morgan finished clasping my collar around my neck, he pushed me to my knees, my face even with Spencer’s. His breath was hot on my nose, our lips so close I could nearly taste him, but Elle tugged on his leash, pulling him back, and Morgan tugged on mine, pulling me back. We both whimpered at the feeling. “You don’t get to touch each other,” Morgan hissed. “In fact, Y/N, you don’t get to touch anyone at all.” My eyes widened and I looked up at Elle, almost as if I could read the look on her face to see how the rest of them were feeling behind me. She was smirking. “Em, the water.”
My eyes widened even further. “Wait. No. Please—” I struggled against the cuffs, wiggling around on the ground as I made a desperate attempt to free myself with no such luck. I knew what was coming. I hated it. I didn’t want them to have the satisfaction of watching me struggle uncomfortably later while they laughed at me. I didn’t— “Mistress, please,” I begged as Emily sat in Hotch’s seat so that she was right beside me. “Please, anything else.”
“Color, baby girl,” she said calmly. She wasn’t as frustrated as the others, I could tell. That was the nice thing about her. As wicked as she could be, her emotions were usually opposite to Elle’s. When Elle was mad, Emily was calm. When Emily was mad, Elle was… well, she was still mad, but she made an attempt to restrain herself.
I pouted. “Green.”
“Then, open your mouth.” She held my jaw as I opened up and tilted my head back somewhat, waiting as she unscrewed the cap of the water bottle in her hands. She had one with her, but Hotch was setting two more down next to his iPad on the table. “Tap Morgan’s leg for Colors.” I felt Morgan press his shin against my back so that my fingers were near his ankles in case I needed to have them slow down or stop.
Emily started slowly pouring the water into my mouth. When I couldn’t hold anymore, she stopped, giving me a chance to swallow. And then she did it again. We kept going until the entire bottle was finished, and even then, she grabbed the next bottle, unscrewed the cap, and started pouring. It was half way through the bottle when I started to feel it. The uncomfortable feeling in my stomach that told me that I was going to have to pee soon, and I whimpered, tapping Morgan’s ankle to tell them that I needed them to slow down.
Emily stopped pouring. “What is it, princess?” she asked.
“I’m already there…” I shamefully admitted.
“Full?”
I shook my head.
“Then, keep going.”
I reluctantly opened my mouth again and let Emily continue her work, getting to the end of the second bottle before she decided that I had enough. They were going to save the last bottle. Certainly, there were more in the fridge where the bar was at the back of the jet, but they would grab them as needed. For now, two was enough, later, they would give me a third, and when it got really bad, they would grab more if they had to. I didn’t want the third one, though. I already had to go, and because of it, I could feel myself actually getting wet again, a sign that I was going to be miserable for my entire punishment.
The point of making me drink was that the feeling of being full aroused me the same way it would if I were filled with Hotch or Morgan’s cocks, or Emily or Elle’s straps. It was the same build that came with needing to orgasm. They controlled my orgasms the same way they controlled… well, when I could go. They made me hold my orgasms the same way they made me hold this— and both were painful to keep back. I was fortunate, however, unlike Spencer, to know that I had never actually released without permission, in front of them, or during a scene at all. Spencer, on the other hand… The poor thing. He could never hold it when Morgan would grab his hips and slide inside of him. The pressure on his prostate and his bladder was always just too much.
Eventually, they’d let me go, but they’d wait long enough until I was squirming. I mean, they weren’t going to hurt me. Since Morgan had chosen this as my punishment, they were all going to have to keep an eye on me to make sure I wasn’t actually in pain because this could be a dangerous punishment if not properly handled; but I trusted them. If they weren’t going to let me cum, they at least had to let me pee— which felt just as good as letting go of my orgasms.
“Bunny’s so hard…” Elle teased, pulling on Spencer’s leash to have him lean back against her thighs. “Did it turn you on to watch Mistress make princess drink?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he admitted.
“You’re lucky that you only palmed yourself without permission. If you would have done anything worse, we’d be making you drink, too. What do you say to us for sparing you that torture?”
“Thank you.”
“Good boy.”
“Let’s move them to the front,” Morgan told Elle so that she could pull Spencer onto the couch to give him room to make me crawl towards the front of the jet where no one would bother me. I whimpered when I felt how full I was while on all fours. I already hated it. “Go on,” he encouraged. I started crawling, and when I made it where he wanted me, he had me turn around so that I was facing the entirety of the team. “Now, you get to sit here and watch.”
“Daddy?” I questioned, unsure of what he meant.
“And not talk.” He crouched and kissed me gently. “This is what you get for breaking the rules.”
“It’s useless to keep apologizing; isn’t it?” Around Morgan, I could talk to him like that, which was a little more casual than most scenes called for, but with the others, I could never say anything like that. Morgan understood, though. He nodded and kissed me again. “Give me a toy, at least. Edge me, ruin me— Anything.”
“No.” He stood back up.
Elle had Spencer’s pants on the ground now, and Emily had moved to the couch to peel his shirt off. As Morgan approached them, Hotch moved closer, too. I watched as the four of them dedicated their entire attention to Spencer, kissing his jawline, nibbling on his earlobe, running their thumbs over his sensitive nipples, and Elle worked her hand down under his briefs. I rolled my hips around for friction against my soaked panties when I heard Spencer let out a breathless moan just before Hotch kissed him to shut him up.
“Don’t let him edge,” Emily warned as Elle continued to play with Spencer inside of his underwear.
“Aw,” Elle cooed with false sympathy against his cheekbone, “is bunny already close?”
He nodded eagerly while pulling away from his kiss with Hotch. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Well, I think it’s only fair to make you ask Mistress for permission the same way Y/N had to.”
He turned his head to look up at Emily. “Please, Mistress?” He sounded just as desperate and pathetic as I had. “May I cum?”
“You touched without permission, though, bunny,” she said to him. He shook his head, knowing that was her answer without saying what she actually meant. “I know that listening to Y/N beg was overwhelming for you…”
She dragged her nails down his chest, making his chest tense up. I saw the way his little stomach sucked in, and I whimpered again. I wanted that to be me touching him. I loved the little tummy he had now since we had helped him get over his addiction since Mexico. He was so healthy now, which meant eating well, something we regulated, and it gave him a cute, healthy, tummy that showed when he was wearing his belts with a button down shirt. I loved praising that part of him. Sometimes, it was obvious how self-conscious it could make him, but when we let him know how much we loved it and how proud we were of his progress since Mexico, he would love it, too. Especially when he was as full as I was.
Spencer bucked up when Elle pulled her hand out of his underwear, leaving him hanging on the edge. Hotch grabbed Spencer’s hips and pushed him back down onto the couch with a huff, probably still angry about me, but now it was worse since Spencer was acting up. I saw Spencer’s cock twitch helplessly behind the constraints of his clothes. He was trying to reach for someone’s hand again, but Morgan collected his wrists together and took Elle’s handcuffs, using them to restrain Spencer the same way I was restrained.
“Please,” he pleaded. “Something. Anything. Please.”
“My bag, Hotch,” Emily muttered, focusing on getting Spencer out of his underwear now. He let out a sigh of relief when his cock bounced freely against his stomach. Hotch scrambled to Emily’s go-bag at the back of the plane and started digging in it for something. “The red one—”
“I know,” he grumbled. “I know.”
He pulled out three things, holding them up long enough for me to inspect from where I was kneeling on the opposite side of the jet. The red strap on that Emily loved to fuck Spence with, a bottle of lube to help him take her easier, and the worst part… Honestly, I didn’t know what was worse, what I was enduring while my bladder got worse or what torture was awaiting Spencer with the last toy Hotch retrieved. I didn’t even realize Emily carried it around with her. How did she even think to bring such a thing? I mean, I understood the red strap and the lube, but… that? I almost felt bad for Spencer. At least I got to cum earlier, even though I wasn’t supposed to, and I was going to get a chance to go to the bathroom after all of this, so I’d have two releases, but it seemed like they didn’t want Spencer to cum at all. I felt sorry for him. If I wasn’t so far into sub space, I probably would’ve snickered with the rest of them, thinking about all of the wicked ways I could have tortured him with it, but… No, I couldn’t while we were both being punished.
“If you want to touch so bad,” Hotch said while returning to the couch, “then we’ll touch.” Spencer’s eyes widened when he saw the last toy. “But we won’t let you cum.”
He struggled against his Doms’ holds as Hotch knelt down to begin the tedious process of sliding the tight metal cock ring over Spencer’s length. Spencer cursed at the feelings. I had no doubts that the ring was cold to the touch— which was an unbearable feeling for him— and it was probably so tight on him… When it reached his base, it kept all of the blood right where it needed to be to ensure he stayed hard. And then Hotch grabbed the string version of the cock ring, which was entirely adjustable, so he slid it over Spencer’s balls and tightened it. Spencer cried out.
I felt my stomach fill out a bit more. I tried sitting back on my feet to relieve the tight feeling that being upright or tilting forward caused, but Morgan caught my movement out of the corner of his eye, and he glared over at me. I knew what he was going to say before he could even open his mouth. “Daddy, I can’t.”
“I don’t care. Sit up.”
I adjusted, my panties rubbing flat against my clit, the waistband of said panties moving just under my stomach, making me feel the sweet torture of my full bladder being teased. I moaned, “Fuck…”
“Does it feel good?”
I shook my head. “Please, just let me go pee real quick. I’ll come back and sit here quietly like a good girl.”
“The next bottle, Em.”
I cried, “No!” The more I struggled against the cuffs, I felt my bladder swell, making the urge to pee worse. “Please!”
“Sir—” Spencer moaned pleasantly as Hotch suddenly dipped down and wrapped his lips around Spencer’s cock. “Thank you, Sir.”
Emily came over with the last bottle of water. “We won’t make you hold it much longer,” she whispered as she unscrewed the cap. Subconsciously, I already knew what she told me because it wasn’t safe to hold it back much longer, but hearing it from her was still a relief that made me sigh gratefully. “Open.” I tilted my head up and opened my mouth. “Keep your eyes on Spence.” My gaze was narrowed down my cheeks and my nose so that I could watch as Hotch slowly licked his tongue around Spencer’s sensitive tip that was still leaking pre-cum. I knew he tasted good. I knew that he was probably a leaking, pathetic mess, and Hotch was enjoying every second of torturing him; and I wished that it were me instead of Hotch, but I couldn’t do anything about it as Emily started making me drink. “Swallow.” I closed my mouth and slowly drank everything she had poured. “Breathe,” she cooed when she caught me panting afterwards. “You’re okay.”
I immediately felt my bladder swell again. “Mistress, I can’t take it anymore…”
“You’ve done more before.”
“Alone with Sir, yes. I’ve never been overwhelmed like this before.”
“Open again.”
I did so. When she was done pouring, I swallowed again. It was getting even worse now. “I can’t—” Without warning, Emily pressed her index finger against my clit, making me jolt. “Fuck!” The stimulation was enough for my body to relax just enough for long enough that I let go for a moment. I caught myself just as it happened. “No, no, no, no—” Emily snickered and started rubbing my clit faster. I was so embarrassed by what had just happened, even though it could have been much worse, but all of that embarrassment was clouded by the fact that it felt so good to be touched after Morgan gave me the impression that none of them were going to touch me for the rest of the flight. “Mistress, I’m close.” Because of my full bladder, the truth was, the urge to pee mixed with the urge to cum, which only quickened my edge. “Please.”
“No.” She kissed the tip of my nose before pulling her touch away. I leaned forward to regain her touch, but she was already walking away, and I cried again as I felt my entirely full bladder swell my belly. “Lemme fuck him,” she told Hotch, wiping some of the sweat off of Spencer’s forehead.
“I want to warm him up first,” Elle said eagerly. Hotch released Spencer from his mouth and pushed himself to his feet. “Turn him over.”
Morgan and Emily worked together to get Spencer on his knees on the floor, and they pressed his chest against the couch. Emily tugged at his leash to keep him distracted when he looked over at me with a painful, silent plea for help— help which I couldn’t give. He accepted his fate, closing his eyes as he waited for the next step.
“Let me hold him,” I begged. “Please. I’ll serve you all while I do it!”
Elle squirted some of the lube onto her index and middle fingers before rubbing them up and down Spencer’s slit. He tensed up. “Fine,” she said, still concentrating on him. “Come here.”
Morgan sat on the couch, his thigh just beside Spencer’s head so that we couldn’t make eye contact from where I was anymore. I started crawling towards all of them, letting Morgan pick up my leash when I was close enough so that he could tug me forward. He spread his legs so that I was sitting between his knees. “Suck,” he commanded, beginning to take his pants off.
I took the moment with nothing to do as an opportunity to finally turn my head to look at Spencer who still had his cheek pressed against the couch. I leaned down and kissed him. He perked up and started kissing me back. Just as it got more intense, the two of us fighting for dominance in our kiss, I felt him suddenly back down when Elle slid her fingers into his tight hole, causing him to moan against my lips. Our hands were still trapped behind our backs, so I couldn’t hold him steady to encourage him to keep kissing me, I couldn’t tangle my hands in his hair, and I couldn’t even reach to hold his hands as they struggled in his cuffs.
“Baby girl,” Morgan called, waiting for me.
“Stop ignoring him,” Hotch hissed, pushing my panties to the side and sliding his thumb into me, pressing directly towards my bladder. I screamed in pain against Spencer when I felt myself let go a bit more. “Shit.” He sounded so turned on. “Fuck, baby.”
“You and bunny,” Elle chuckled. “The two of you can never hold it together. Pathetic.”
Spencer and I moaned happily in response to the degradation.
Morgan, now completely impatient, held my head between his palms, tore me away from Spencer, then turned my gaze before pushing my mouth onto his cock. He kept moving me until I gagged. I felt Spencer rut against the couch when Elle must have curled her fingers against his prostate or something, and I followed suit when I felt Hotch replace his short thumb with his long cock. I thought I was supposed to be facing punishment— Not that I was arguing. Even if I could talk, I wouldn’t have brought it up, because as painful as my bladder felt, at least I finally got him. He always felt so good. He was so long, but not as thick as Morgan, not that it mattered. Both of them knew how to please me, and that was what mattered more than anything.
“Jesus, baby girl,” Morgan moaned, throwing his head back.
“He’s ready,” Elle said. Spencer whimpered when there was a loss of contact between them after she pulled out of him and stepped away, giving Emily room to kneel behind him and line up her cock with his ass. “Are you going to be good for us, bunny? No cumming?”
Spencer whined. “I don’t know, Ma’am.”
“Promise or we won’t fuck you.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he insisted quickly, realizing his mistake. “I won’t cum. I promise.”
“Good boy.”
Suddenly, he was pushed forward when Emily roughly thrust into him. I pulled my mouth off Morgan long enough for me to catch my breath and moan as Hotch continued fucking me softly to torture me, and I looked over to see Emily showing no remorse with Spencer. Poor thing. Elle had stretched him, and Emily took a second to let him adjust, but now he was ruined. Absolutely destroyed. He was going to be wobbling on our way off the jet when we would land, I just knew it.
“I didn’t say you could stop, slut,” Morgan growled, grabbing me by the hair this time to make sure that I wouldn’t move away from him this time. I groaned as I took all of him in my mouth again. Just as he willed it, I bobbed my head up and down, my jaw slack, my tongue flat, my throat open to stop the gagging because he was using me as a hole and nothing else, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Hotch pissed me off suddenly by reaching under me to grab my breasts through my shirt, and when I thought that his intentions were pleasant, he threw me for a loop by caressing my inflated stomach. He chuckled. “So full…” He massaged the sensitive part of my torso where my bladder was, making me roll my hips eagerly against him. “And so greedy.” He thrust roughly into me in an attempt to warn me off of acting out again, but I couldn’t help it. The need to pee was too similar to the need to cum, the two feelings were blended together now, so when he teased my stomach, I wanted to cum. I had to cum. I needed some kind of relief. “Don’t you fucking dare—” He pulled out of me when he felt me tighten around him. “Brat.” He spanked me hard. “Elle.”
“I thought you understood that we didn’t train brats, baby,” Elle said, backing Hotch up. She teased her cleaned and re-lubed fingers at my ass now while Hotch realigned with my pussy. “You and bunny don’t get to cum.”
I moaned around Derek’s length as Elle and Hotch both thrusted into me simultaneously. He gave me every single inch he had to offer, making sure I felt just how big he was, the way he could reach deep places inside of me that made my knees weak every time. As for Elle, her approach had been a bit slower so that she could be safe. When her fingers were moving in me, she only put them in about half way before gently pulling them out and pushing them back in, this time all the way to the bottom knuckle, and then she curled her fingers. Morgan held me steady as I moaned around him again. The three of them working together to fill each of my holes was… I mean, they had all filled me further before, but not when my bladder was already full, too; this just felt so different… so good…
“Mmm—” Morgan bucked his hips up so that he could fuck my face harder. “I’m gonna cum.” He panted as his fingers gripped my hair harder. He let out a grunt as his whole body tensed, his orgasm finally hitting him like a train. As his cum spilled into my mouth, I used his hesitancy as a chance to finally move my tongue around, stimulating his shaft, making him twitch and squirm a bit more, and I hummed happily around him to make it even worse. They were torturing me, the least I could do was slyly return the favor. “Shit, baby!” He pulled me off before I could continue overstimulating. “Fuck.” His thumb caressed my cheek lovingly for a second. “Go on. Swallow.” I shook my head. I couldn’t. I couldn’t take anything more. I was so full, I felt like I was going to explode. He furrowed his brows. “Swallow, slut.” I kept shaking my head, and I tried to escape Elle and Hotch so that I could find somewhere to spit, but they held my hips still while Morgan grabbed my face. “Swallow.”
I searched his eyes for a moment, quickly realizing that he wasn’t going to release me until I did as he asked. Even if the jet landed and we were supposed to be getting off, probably to head back to mine and Hotch’s place to finish all of this, Morgan was going  to sit there with me until I swallowed. I had no choice. While keeping my gaze even with his, I slowly swallowed the load he gave me. When I was done, I opened my mouth to prove my success, and he finally let go of me while grinning.
“Was that so hard?” he teased.
“Mistress,” Spencer moaned, his voice muffled somewhat, “I can’t take it anymore.”
Morgan and I looked away from each other to investigate what was happening, and it was just as our attention was brought to him that we saw Spencer slump as he gave up. Emily was still fucking him, don’t get me worng, but his poor, red, needy cock was leaking, begging for the cock rings to be taken off so that he could ejaculate— and he just couldn’t take the denial anymore. He couldn’t take being on the brink constantly. Holding his posture for her so that he could fuck his ass, keeping his head turned so that we could hear his pathetic noises, all of that meant nothing to him now. They had finally broken him.
“It hurts,” he complained.
“Color,” she whispered, brushing his curls back so that she could lean over his back and start kissing his neck lovingly.
“Green, but I can’t… I can’t… I’m gonna—”
“The two of you and not being able to hold it today,” Elle scolded, moving her fingers faster inside of my ass. “It’s like we need to teach you guys how to behave again and work on your stamina.”
Spencer and I quickly exchanged a worried glance. We hadn’t done stamina in so long. This was close, sure, but actual stamina training with Elle was the worst— especially if Hotch were there. They liked to tie me and Spencer up so that couldn’t move a single muscle, and then they’d press a vibrator against my clit while Spencer got the fleshlight. For hours, we would have to lay there, edging again and again as Hotch and Elle turned on my vibrator and started fucking the fleshlight over Spencer’s cock, and then they’d stop when we were close enough. It was torture. They purposefully gave us hard edges. The longer we went, the more rewards we earned for the week, but if we came, they ruined our orgasms before painfully continuing, and all of it was for the sake of increasing our stamina during sex and teaching us how to hold back our orgasms until we had permission. It worked after a while. Spencer was a lot worse at it than I was, but we finally got the hang of it, and the two of us were pretty good about holding out until we had proper permission; but there was just something about the atmosphere of being on the jet compared to being at someone’s house or in a hotel room that had our brains melted down to nothing. I had orgasmed once without permission, and there were multiple occasions while Hotch and Elle were fucking me from behind that I felt myself getting there again— and if they weren’t so good about pulling away on time to edge me, I would have cum again without permission, regardless of the punishment. But Spencer… He was trying so hard to be their good boy. He had touched himself without permission, which he knew wasn’t allowed, so he had accepted that he wasn’t allowed to cum, but those cock rings were straining against him, practically milking him considering the way he was leaking so helplessly; and it was just too much for him. He couldn’t take it anymore.
“Bunny, if you cum, we’re going to have to put you in your cage,” Emily warned.
“We should anyways,” Hotch panted from behind me.
Spencer shook his head urgently. “No. Please. I’ll be good. I- I prom… I promise.” He sighed as Emily changed her pace while fucking him. “I promise.” It sounded like he was crying now. “I promise…” Our little broken record. “I promise.” Not a single thought in that pretty head of his.
Hotch pulled out of me suddenly and he snatched away Elle’s fingers. My legs shook as my sudden, unexpected, unplanned orgasm was completely ruined. I hadn’t seen it coming. One second, I was watching Spencer fall apart, the next, I was clenching around nothing as my orgasm peaked yet I got no relief from the feeling since they had removed the stimulation when I needed it most. My clit was throbbing. I felt myself leak just a bit more, my bladder warming up at the feeling. I fell, just like Spencer, my cheek crashing against Morgan’s warm thigh.
“Their cuffs,” Hotch said pressingly. Morgan reached for his pants that were pooled at his ankles, and he grabbed the key from his pocket, then he handed it off to Hotch. “We’re done with you, baby girl,” he told me. I shook my head. I needed to cum. I had to… I had to cum… Geez, I felt as broken as Spencer looked. “Can you stand?” I shook my head again. “Okay…” He freed my hands and rubbed my wrists to ease the pain from every time I struggled against the metal bondings. “How bad is it?” he asked, taking my leash and gently tugging, a signal that he wanted me to turn around face him. I did so. When he saw my face, he chuckled, and Elle followed shortly, the two of them so impressed by how broken I must have looked. I knew that my hair was a mess, my eyes and bottom lip were pouting, my legs were still shaking, and I was so bloated. I looked ridiculous. “That bad, princess?” He stroked his cock at the sight of me.
“Fuck them again like this,” Elle encouraged seductively in his ear. “Both of them on their backs…” she said a little louder so that everyone could hear her. “Taking what we give them.”
Hotch fell in love with the idea, immediately shooing Morgan off the couch so that he could throw me onto it. I yelped as I landed on the cushions. My right thigh was just next to Spencer’s face— so close that I could feel his pants against my skin— and Hotch, Elle, and Morgan were standing just in front of me, licking their hips with lust and hunger in their eyes. Hotch was still running his grip up and down his length at the sight of me.
“Look at the mess we made, bunny.” Morgan reached over and pulled at Spencer’s hair, pulling him upright so that his back was pressed flush against Emily’s chest as she used the new angle to fuck him harder and deeper. Spencer’s engorged penis twitched at the sight of me. My panties were soaked with a mixture of my wetness, my cum, and whatever had leaked out of me earlier. “Don’t they look so stupid?”
Spencer nodded while screwing his shut in response to Emily’s cock hitting a new spot inside of him. “Yes, Daddy. They look so good.”
I rolled my hips around, butterflies fluttering in my stomach— or maybe that was the urge to pee just getting worse. Regardless, though, my whole body was on fire, and I just needed someone to touch me again. I needed to touch Spencer, which was the worst part, because I knew that they wouldn’t let me, and even if I could, a single touch was going to set him off, and I would’ve felt bad if they ruined him, too. 
“You want me, baby?” Hotch teased, gliding his thumbs over my hard nipples through my shirt.
I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“You want me to breed you?”
I let out a shaky breath before gulping and nodding. “Yes, Sir.”
“You wanna be fuller than you are now, huh?” His hands worked their way down to my stomach where he started massaging his thumbs in, finding my bladder without any problems. “So fucking full. It’s gotta be uncomfortable, baby, I know… But you did this to yourself.”
“Sir—” I tried moving away from him in an attempt to make him stop teasing my bladder, but I couldn’t escape. “I won’t hold it if you keep doing that.”
I didn’t want to be like Spence. As much as I loved him, I didn’t want to share his embarrassment of peeing myself like he had. The first time it happened, we were all together for Elle’s birthday. Spencer had been acting up during dinner, touching her when he wasn’t supposed to, speaking out of turn, giving me lip when I told him to be careful. We weren’t having it. When we got to Elle’s place, he complained that he had to pee before we started, but Hotch pinned him to the wall with a large hand around his throat, making Spencer’s eyes widen as he started apologizing profusely. Hotch didn’t let him go. For being a brat at dinner, the consensus was that we were going to take turns fucking him and cumming inside of him while he had to hold it. He hated it. He was already bloated from dinner, but when we fucked into him, we could see our cocks through his tummy as we were thrusting in and out of him. As I said before, it was always when Morgan finally got to fuck him that Spencer let go. It was something about the girth I was pretty sure, because out of him, Hotch, and the straps Em, Elle, and I had, Morgan was the thickest, which meant that he always stretched me and Spencer, so it was no surprise that Spencer immediately let go when it happened. He cried at the humiliation. He couldn’t believe he had done that while we were all watching— and what was worse to him was that we liked it. We liked that it degraded him.And even worse than that was that he liked it. It made him hard, and when Hotch started to jerk him off, it wasn’t long until he was begging to cum. I was the one who took mercy on him. I gave him permission before the others could argue,  and Spencer immediately fell apart.
I didn’t want to be the one who felt Hotch fill me up and I couldn’t help but let go, and they would laugh at me. I could tell how embarrassed I’d be. Hotch seemed to take mercy on me  the same way I had with Spencer back then. He stopped fucking with me when I was practically in tears, and he instead went back to stroking his cock.
“I know you want to cum, baby,” he cooed, “but you can’t… Rules are rules.” He started fucking his fist faster. “Good girls get to cum.” His breath was ragged now. “You weren’t good.”
Elle grabbed his face and turned him so that they were suddenly kissing, and he pushed his hand past her pants and panties so that he could press a finger directly against her clit. They moaned together.
“I’m going to cum,” Spencer warned. Morgan was holding his leash taut, forcing Spencer to keep his back against Emily’s chest while she moaned into his neck and left a hundred different hickies. “Please. Please, Mistress.”
“No.”
“I can’t hold it.” He was leaking onto my knee now, that was how close together we were.
“I said, no. You cum, you get caged.”
“Fuck—” What Emily said did the opposite of what she had intended. Instead of deterring him from cumming, the threat of being locked up in a cock cage enticed Spencer, tipping him over the edge that he needed so badly. “I’m cumming!”
Just as his dick started twitching, Elle jumped into action, quickly grabbing my hips and turning me so that Spencer was lined up between my legs, and she pushed my panties to the side. Emily fucked harshly into Spencer as he started cumming. The force of her action jolted Spencer forward, putting his tip directly at my entrance. We both moaned at the feeling. I needed him, and it seemed he needed me, because when he felt how wet I was, his weak, repressed load slowly poured into me. He had tried to hold back. I could tell with how sad his orgasm was and how he was whimpering that he didn’t want to cum. He wanted to be good for them. But Emily fucking him, Morgan trying to choke him with the collar, the cock rings squeezing his penis and swollen balls, and my torture that he was witnessing was all too stimulating to every single one of his senses. He had to cum the same way I had to cum earlier when they denied my orgasm.
Emily stopped fucking him to make sure that the orgasm was shorter and to ensure that he didn’t go any further into me than necessary. They wanted his cum to be inside of me, but that was it. They didn’t want either of us to enjoy it.
Without warning, Hotch grabbed my hips away from Elle, putting me back where I was so that I was facing him, and he thrust into me suddenly, cumming within an instant, too. “Fuck…”
He came much harder than Spencer had because he wanted to give me everything, to fulfill the breeding kink we had. All I felt was the stretch and the warmth of his semen, though, because he refused to thrust to help ride out his high since it would have inevitably pleased me, too, and that wasn’t the point. He wanted me to be full and to get nothing out of it.
When he caught his breath, he pulled out of me slowly. I whined at the loss. “You can go now.”
My eyes widened for a second as I registered what he said, but once I dawned on me, I didn’t hesitate. Despite my still weak legs, I pushed myself off the couch and I ran straight for the small bathroom at the back of the jet. I held onto the counter in front of me as I finally released everything that had been building. It felt just as good as an orgasm, if I were being honest. Holding it like that, being teased and denied by my Doms like that… It was just as painful as being edged, but getting to release was just as rewarding as an orgasm.
The door opened suddenly to reveal Hotch standing there, fully clothed, his arms crossed over his chest. I tried hiding myself by clasping my hands together over my crotch. “Did you learn a valuable lesson?”
I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“Which was?”
“No cumming without permission. Ever. Under any circumstances. My orgasms don’t belong to me.” I felt another wave of liquid pressing against my weak bladder, but I tried my best to hold it back since he was still standing there.
“Next time, I will make you go in front of them. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Clean yourself up then come back for water—”
“Sir—”
“Not for that,” he said with a chuckle. “Water, a snack, and play with Spencer’s hair.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “I’m proud of you, baby.”
I melted at the praise. “Really, Sir? Even though I broke a thousand rules?”
“Even then. You did good.” He closed the door again and walked off, giving me the chance to release again.
When I was finished, I stood and cleaned myself, using the washcloths under the sink to clean up between my thighs. Usually, one of them would have helped, but the jet was too small, and the bathroom was only big enough for one person. I had to do this part on my own. When I was washed and dried, however, I made my way back into the main cabin, finding Emily racing to get the cuffs off Spencer. The second he was free, he immediately went to pry off the cock rings, but Morgan slapped his hands away. Spencer stared at me as Morgan started gently pulling off the metal one around his shaft. “Daddy,” he hissed, his eyes clenching shut. Emily and Elle were running their fingers through Spencer’s hair already to help him calm down. “Fuck,” he gasped when it was off. “Thank you.” He then prepared himself as Morgan went to release the tie that was around Spencer’s balls. When the pressure was gone, Spencer slumped, falling somewhat, and we all reached forward to catch him. “Thank you.” Hotch kissed Spencer’s temple and pulled him onto his lap on the couch. “I’m sorry for cumming without permission.”
“We’ll call it even, bunny,” Morgan said, referencing how I had done the same thing. “You and baby did so well.”
Elle grabbed the lotion from Spencer’s bag that he used for aftercare, and she started massaging it between his cheeks as Hotch continued to hold him. “You, too,” she told me while still tending to Spence. I went to sit down, but Emily beat me to it, taking the only spot left beside Hotch, and she patted her hands on her lap. I laid over her the same way Spencer was on Hotch. Our faces were close again.
“May we?” Spencer begged.
“Yes,” Morgan answered.
Just as Elle started using her other hand to massage some lotion onto my ass, Spencer and I started kissing. He tasted so good. It was comforting rather than erotic, and I felt myself slowly easing out of sub space in a way that didn’t let me drop. I hoped that he was okay, too.
I ran my fingers through his curls. “I love you, Spence.”
He kissed me harder before mumbling, “I love you, too.”
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travellingarmy · 3 years
Text
║Diluc║Adopted
Requested from Wattpad.
Child, male reader. Completely platonic.
Fluff.
Word count: 2.2k
---
You don't know where you came from and neither did he, but that question doesn't linger on for too long, allowing yourselves to enjoy in each other's presence.
He wasn't one to have an interest in taking care of children, but ever since he found you in a woven basket in Wolvendom, he made you the centre of his life.
"Diluc, I want to train today!" Barging into his office, you greet him an enthusiastic- yet loud- morning, slamming the door wide open to create a booming sound that Diluc no longer gets a fright out of. "Can we go outside today? Please, please, please?"
He looks up from his paper to eye your person before returning his attention to the paper. "We can go out today, but it will be to the tavern. I have something to do."
You pout and slumped onto a nearby chair, your ears slightly drooping down like the hybrid dog you are. There were few people who had an animal appearance like you and perhaps that might have had been the reason he was drawn to you.
"I said I want to train, not follow you on your errands!" head snapping up as you whined. Diluc slowly closes his eyes and sighs, quite tired from the work yesterday and the added work today. However, he knows how persistent you were and how you would get annoying by the day that even Adelinde starts to get a headache. With that knowledge, he stood up shortly and looks towards your petite frame.
Your eyes sparkled and a child-like smile forms on your face, knowing what he'll say next. "Did you have breakfast already?" Diluc asks, although it was nearly afternoon, and you nod almost immediately. "Then we'll go out and quickly visit the tavern. Afterwards, we can practise your archery." If he was going to shut you up while doing his work, this method was always effective.
You hop off the couch and rushed towards the red-head, grabbing his hand and allow him to lead the way.
Although he adopted you, he did not put himself as your father on the paper and asked of you to call him by his name only, but that didn't matter to you.
You bid Adelinde goodbye and outside, you took big leaps, excited to get on with archery. "(Y/N), slow down. You'll trip and then we'll fall," Diluc points out, slightly bending as he chases after you, trying to keep up in the light of your steps.
You slowed down, walking at a more comfortable pace. For you, stamina was everything but since Diluc wasn't a child, he couldn't go as fast as you wanted. "Sorry, Diluc."
However, throughout that walk, you did stray from time to time, sometimes letting go of his hand to peek what could have been hiding in rustling bushes. "(Y/N), come back here," he would say, gaining your attention back to his side.
Upon entering the gates, a particular someone just had to show up. "Oho~ Fancy meeting you here, Master Diluc," the all too familiar Cavalry Captain greets, souring Diluc's day. Kaeya's smirk stretched a bit, looking quite smug as his eyes move from him and to your petite stature.
"And good morning, (Y/N). Are you here to run errands with Master Diluc?" He asks with a close-eyed smile, ignoring the murderous aura coming from his brother as he leans down to your level, hands on his thighs.
You nod. "I want to learn how to charge my arrow like Fish lady!" you say with a gleam. Kaeya stares dumbfoundedly at you before finally realizing that you were referring to Fischl from the Adventurer's Guild. "Oh, I see That's some intense training, but I'm sure that you can pull it off." He ruffles your hair and chuckles.
"Sir Kaeya, as a captain, you have an awful lot of time to waltz around lazily," Diluc comments, his grip on your hand tightening, but not too hard that it would hurt. This comment's venom flies by over the aforementioned male as he chuckles, shrugging. "What can I say? I'm sure you're well aware that Grand Master Varka has taken all of my knights. Who am I supposed to captain?"
You mused at the two brothers' bickering silently and see that Diluc's eyebrows were twitching-- most likely from the annoyance his brother is giving him. "But as a knight, you should have at least something to do."
"I do, and that's speaking to (Y/N)," he says. "It is a knight's duty to make sure the people are safe and so, I am speaking with him to make sure he isn't being forced into training by you. You know how wrong that is, don't you, Master Diluc?"
"Tch. I'm well aware. And on that note, I believe you're more capable of doing that than I," Diluc crosses his arms as he spoke. It was getting to the point that your feet were starting to annoy you. Standing still was not something you like doing. "Diluc, can we go now?" You tug on the hem of his coat with your free hand and pouted slightly.
This got both of the brothers' attention and they looked at each other. "Apologies, but we have to go now. You know how children are," Diluc says, feeling quite happy.
"Aw, (Y/N), doesn't want to stay with me?" Kaeya pouts. You shook your head and smiled. "I want to train!" you voiced. Kaeya hums in acknowledgement. "Hm, I see. Then, I won't keep little (Y/N) too long. But promise me you'll play with me next time." He offers his pinky finger and you took it, lacing your smaller pinky. "I promise!"
After that, Diluc tugs you along lightly, not wanting to stay anywhere near the captain, heading towards the tavern to speak with a waited person. "(Y/N), you sit here, okay? Don't stray away." Diluc says and helps you up on one of the chairs outside. You nod, swinging your legs that dangle off of the chair. Diluc stares at you and shows a small smile, ruffling your hair, and then walking off.
You were left alone, but not truly alone as you see Diluc not too far from you, talking to a man who looked wealthy themselves. It was probably a business negotiation of some sort, but you were too young to be bothered by trivial matters that did not involve you.
"Hey, hey, look at him." Whispers. To an average person, they wouldn't be able to hear it, but you weren't, and so, you heard children whispering behind you. It was also evident that they were talking about you as you heard another whisper, "He has doggy ears. I want one."
You thought they would just talk like every other person, but that thought was dismissed when you hear light footsteps coming your way. You turned your head to look down at the other children. There were two boys and a girl. The girl was most likely younger than you and the boys were older-- older than yourself. They look like trouble, you thought to yourself.
"Hey, you!" The first one to speak was one of the two boys. He has jet-black hair and wore thick glasses. You hopped off of your seat and stare at them silently, waiting for them to continue. "Is that thing on your head real?"
"Uh, yeah, it is," you answered, getting off from the chair to have a proper conversation with them. It was a common question asked to you that you lost count of how many times someone came up to you and ask.
"I don't believe it," he voiced, crossing his arms and lookin smug. "Yeah, let us touch it," the second one spoke. Your brows slightly furrows. Who were these kids and why were they suddenly asking to touch your ears? Yeah, sure it was strange and not human-like, but who gave these kids courage to spew words like that?
"Sorry, but they're really sensitive.." you state, your brows slightly furrowing. "Oh, please. I bet you're just saying that because it's actually fake!" Without warning, he reached for your ears and tug it harshly and you yelped at the pain. "Woaaah! Did you glue it onto your head? You're so weird."
"Please, let go." You knew how much stronger you were compared to average children, seeing as you had a vision and was trained to combat and so, you didn't dare use force to get him to pull away, wrapping both of your tiny hands on the wrist outstretched to you. Diluc always reminded you to never harm others. "Please, let go!" you repeated, slightly louder than before. Water started to form on the corner of your eyes the more he pulled on your ears.
In response to your distress, your vision glowed and sent a tiny shock of electro from your hands that held onto his. It wasn't harmful, but just enough to make the kid hiss and stumble back. "H, hey, what did you do to him?" The girl reached for her friend, looking at the hand that had a slight purple to it from you.
And to make matters worst, an older woman came running towards you four, seemingly to be one of their mother. "What's going on here?" the lady asks. "Mommy, look what he did to me!" the boy showed his wrist with tears on his face.
With one look at it, the lady turns towards you. "Excuse me, do you have any idea what you just did?" "I asked him if his ears were real and he suddenly attacked me!" Liar. He was lying, but you had no one to back your claims.
She huffs. "How dare you! How would you like it if someone were to do that to you." She reached her long, slender arms for your wrist. "Where are your parents? I'll have them know how naughty you are." Grabbing your wrist, she tries and drags you from your spot.
"That won't be necessary." Just in time, Diluc came back with the same, glaring-like expression on his face. The woman's eyes widened and with a gasp, let's go of your wrist. "Master Diluc?" she calls.
Diluc looks at the woman and to the children, inspecting the wrist that had been bruised. He had heard the conversation from where he stood and sped up his meeting with the person.
"Tell me what happened?" he asks, eyes returning their attention to the woman. "Well, this brat here injured my child and I was about to look for his parents."
"Oh, really? (Y/N), don't tell me you've forgotten what I told you about using your vision?" Although when he asks this, he already knows the answer. You shook your head. "I didn't mean to hurt them, I promise! They were pulling in my ears and.." Your voice grew weaker into silence, drooping your head down, thinking that he wouldn't buy your excuses.
Diluc sees this and immediately kneels down to your level, putting a hand on your shoulders and gain your attention. "Hey, look up. If you know that you are in the right, there is  nothing you should shy away from," his voice was low and spoke softly to you.
Your eyes brightened up a bit and Diluc smiled-- not showing it though. He lifts you off of the ground, putting and arm under you for support as the other went on your back.
The lady was confused but most importantly, scared. "If you're looking for his guardian, you're speaking to them," Diluc spoke, eyes glued on you whilst the words directed to her. "But before you do that, demand the truth from your son." With that, he walked away, leaving the mother to ask what really happened while he comforted you.
You wrapped your arms around his neck and bury your face on his shoulders, trying hard not to let a single tear slip. You idolized Diluc for his skills in combat and his ability to never cry and so, you didn't like crying. It made you feel weak and nowhere near to become like Diluc.
"Hey, it's alright." He rubs your back, noticing your shaking body trying hard not to cry. "It's okay to cry, but don't cry for foolish people. You'll just give them what they want." In moments like these, you see Diluc as a father with his comforting words and life lectures.
You hummed and became silent. Yes, you can't cry for those types of people, you comfort yourself. Taking a deep breath, you peel yourself from his shoulders and showed him the smile that he would never admit he loves to see. A smile that gives others strength with the look of fire in your eyes.
"Alright, do you want to train now?" he asks, slightly smiling. You nod, but stopped yourself. "Wait, don't you still have other things to do?" you ask, to which Diluc ruffles your hair with his free hand. "Those can wait tomorrow. I could use some rest right now."
---
226 notes · View notes
marvelsbetch · 3 years
Text
Peter Parker’s parent teacher conference
Warnings: IronStrange, Supremefamily, bullied Peter, dick head teachers, anxious Peter and homophobia.
-Peter POV-
"Hey Bambi, why didn't you tell us about your parent-teacher conference tomorrow night?" Pops asked sitting next to me on the living room couch.
"I didn't think you would've wanted to go? Dads not the one for school or teachers and you're -well- you." I explained tentatively.
"I'll take that as a compliment. Just so you know, we'll be there for around 5 so just after your decathlon meeting. It'll just be me and your dad so no need to be embarrassed." Pops told me.
"Thanks. This'll be the first parent-teacher conference I would've ever been to." I told him.
"Same kid. It's a first time experience for us all." Pops smiled at me.
"Not many times that happens." I commented resting my head on his shoulder.
"No it's not Bambi, no it's not." He smiled putting his head on mine.
-Next day at 5 o'clock-
"Hey Penis, what're you still doing here? This is a thing for kids with parents." Flash taunted walked passed me in the gymnasium as I waited for my dads.
"Shut up Flash, you know nothing about my family." I told him.
"You better watch your tone Parker or you'll have another black eye." Flash threatened getting really close to me.
"If you would be so kind as to step away from my kid, it would he greatly appreciated." Pops' voice spoke from next to me. They must've just arrived.
"Oh my God! It's Stephen Strange! And Tony Stark!" Flash all but yelled making the whole room fall silent.
"It's Stephen Stark actually. I didn't spend thousands on a wedding for people to not recognise my changed last name." Pops corrected.
"I'm so sorry. I'm such a fan of both of your works." Flash blabbered composing himself.
"Eugene! We've been looking everywhere for you!" A man, who I presume is Flash's father, scolded walking up to us with a woman trailing behind.
"Sorry father but look who I found. The Starks." Flash excitedly announced.
At this point I slowly slipped away from him and walked up to my Dad who gladly greeted me with a hug. I could feel the warmth of the arc reactor on my chest and it gave a strange comfort. After a few moments we let go but I didn't move very far, being so close to Flash made me really anxious.
"Underoos you okay?" Dad asked me worriedly trying to look into my eyes.
"Yeah I'm fine, just tired. I was up late finishing a piece of homework last night." I lied hoping Pops wouldn't say anything as I fell asleep on him last night.
"Wow Mister Stark. I must say I'm a big fan of your work. If you haven't noticed I try to style myself off of you." Flash's father said showing off his black tailored suit and aviator sunglasses and reached out for a handshake.
"I'm flattered but I don't do handshakes. I'm not the biggest fan of touching." Dad told him trying to give a convincing smile.
"Then why've you got an arm around Pen-Peter?" Flash asked making both my Dads give him the 'Bitch WTF' look. I hate that look. Dad was about to say something but I decided to cut in.
"So, why don't we do what you came here to do and speak to my teachers? Sounds great, let's go." I spoke grabbing Pops' hand and dragging him and Dad to one of my teachers.
"Who was he?" Dad asked in a demanding tone.
"Nobody important. Look Mr. Harrington's free. Let's go and talk to him." I rushed and pulled my dads towards Mr. Harrington's table.
"Ah, Peter and Mr. and Mr. Stark. Lovely to meet you, I love all you've done for the world." Mr Harrington spoke as we took our seats.
"Thank you Mr. Harrington." Pops said.
"No problem. So, I teach Peter Physics and I've got no problems. The only thing I would say is that he is often on his phone during lesson and doesn't listen that much. However with that being said, he's never got below an A+ on his tests. You should be proud of him." Mr. Harrington smiled.
"We are. Is that all?" Dad said ruffling my hair slightly.
"That's all thanks." Mr. Harrington announced and shook Pops' hand before we walked away.
"That was a really good report but who're you texting during class? It better not be one of the others or your dad." Pops asked and gave Dad a pointed look.
"No it's this guy I met online. His names Harley Keener and he seems really nice." I explained as I lead them to my history teacher.
"Harley Keener?" Dad asked shocked.
"Yeah. Why? Do you know him?" I questioned.
"Sorta. I'll explain when we get home." Dad dismisses before turning around to face my history teacher Mrs. Keens.
"Wow, this is a shock. It's not everyday the Starks turn up to a parent-teacher conference. How are you both?" She rushed out slightly flustered.
"We're doing fine thank you. How is Peter in this subject?" Pops asked, straight to the point as always.
"Peter is amazing, always hands his homework in on time, always listens in lesson and has never received less than an A on a test. You should be proud of him." She informed smiling at me.
"Wow, our little goody-two-shoes." Dad teased ruffling my hair slightly.
"One thing that you may or may not be aware of is a boy called Eugene Thomson. He seems to be bullying Peter for whatever reason, I've caught him a few times throwing paper balls at Peter or sliding him malicious notes. I'm not sure if it's friendly or not but I felt you should know. Thank you." Mrs. Keens informed, may the ground swallow me up now.
"We will also discuss this later on." Pops told me sternly, oh no.
We left Mrs. Keens with a slight wave and headed back to the main area to find another teacher. My eyes landed on my English teacher who didn't seem very happy, this is not going to end well.
"Oh look, it's your English teacher." Dad commented and pointed to Mr. Malory. Fuuuuuuuuck.
"How do you know my English teacher?" I asked worriedly.
"Research department, making sure my son has the best education he can. Let's go to him now while he's free." Dad brushed off and started to walk towards him. God save me.
My English teacher hates me for no reason, always turns a blind eye to Flash, always nitpicks my assignments and finds any reason to not give me a good grade. He's also quite homophobic and has expressed on many occasions his hatred for my Dads and anything to do with them. He even leads a group called the 'Freedom from Starks'. This is so not ending well.
"Peter, didn't expect to see you here." Mr. Malory commented not looking up from his clip board.
"Well, this is a parent-teacher conference and I, as his parent, would like to speak to my sons teacher about his school work. If you'd be so kind." Dad said, his words oozing sarcasm and sass. He really did his research.
Mr. Malory picked his head up and stared Dad dead in the face. The distaste clearly shown on both faces as the three of us took our seats, Pops took Dad's hand, probably as a way to calm him down. This is worse than I thought.
"Well, if I'm being honest, Peter is the worse student I've ever taught. He's disruptive in lessons, throws paper at a wonderful student called Flash Thompson, slides Flash malicious notes and seems to find any excuse to blame Flash. His work is simply upgradable and I couldn't thing on a bigger lost cause than your son. Any questions?" Mr. Malory spoke and Dads face got redder and redder with anger.
"Really, then why did the last teacher we speak to say it was the other way around, that 'Flash' was the one throwing paper and passing notes?" Dad questioned leaning forward in his seat.
"Look, I don't know what happens in other lessons and quite frankly, I don't care. All I know is Peter is a major distraction and it's bordering bulling with Flash." Mr. Malory told us.
"What about his work is so upgradable? Is it his handwriting or the content of what he's writing?" Pops asked placing his other hand on top of Dads. This is getting serious.
"The content. The ludicrous stories of the Norse Gods and his 'adventures' with them are beyond reason. His stories are beyond the realm of possibility and are just ludicrous." Mr. Malory told them.
"His stories about the Norse Gods, does this involve Thor putting his hammer in inconvient places or Loki and black widow being kind and caring to others?" Das asked.
"Yes." Was Mr. Malory's short response.
"Well, it is within the realm of possibility as it happens. Every single day at the compound or sanctum." Pops spit out trying to keep calm.
"Oh well, maybe he should learn to be more creative with his stories." Mr. Malory spoke silently challenging Pops.
"Thanks sir." I hastily said before dragging both my dads out of their seats and walking off.
"No Pete, I would like to hear more about how much of a bad student you are." Dad argued challenging Mr Mallory.
"And I will be glad to provide. Mr Park-"
"Stark." Dad deadpans.
"Mr Stark is highly disruptive not only to Mr Thomson but is also always on his phone, sleeping in class or just straight up not listening. Honestly, his behaviour is a reflection as to why you people shouldn't be allowed to have kids, you simply don't know how to raise them." Mr Mallory continued to explain. Dad went red.
"What do you mean by you people?" Pops asked scarily calm as be placed a hand on Dad's knee to soothe him slightly.
"Gays. You shouldn't be allowed children because there's not a mother to properly raise them, I never had these issues when Peter lived with May. I honestly think it would be in his best interest to place him back in her care."
Oh my god. He knows May is dead. He knows that I can't be 'placed back in her care' and It was the same when I did live with her, nothing changed.
We were all stunned into silence, including some of the surrounding parents and teachers who were stunned. Well, we were silent until Dad blew up at him.
"How dare you," he began, "I take as good care of my son as any other parent here does, I give him as much as I can and do everything I can to be a good parent to him. If he's sleeping in your classes or being distracted then maybe you should make your lessons more interesting and not be blind sighted by your homophobic, bigoted and downright dickish beliefs. Your head may be crammed so far up your ass you can smell your lungs but maybe once join us in the real world and see that just because people are different doesn't mean they're not as capable. I will be putting in a formal complaint and if I were you, I'd start looking for new places of employment seeing as I am one of the biggest donators to this school. Come on Pete, we're going home."
Dad then grabbed Pops' hand and my arm before storming out of the building towards the car. You could see the steam coming out of his ears as Pops tried in a desperate attempt to calm him down.
I think I can safely say that this night was a disaster.
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mosswillow · 3 years
Text
Jumping In (Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader)
Warnings: 18+ adult content!!, Kidnapping, smut, Dark fic, vaginal fingering, noncon/dubcon, yandere.
Summary: You submit your application to the Avengers as a joke. You’re nowhere near qualified enough for the job. So why do they want you?
AN: A big thanks to @rayofdawnworld for commenting on “Your Room” that they wanted to know about the other Avengers. This one is (obviously) Steve and is happening chronologically before “Your Room.” You can read it by itself though!  I also have a story forming for Bucky in my mind so I’ll probably do him next. 
You’ve always been the type of person to jump into things without thinking. It’s gotten you into plenty of trouble throughout your life but you’ve always managed to get yourself out of it. It’s opened up opportunities for you and taken you all over the world. You put in the application for SHIELD almost as a joke, thinking there’s no way they would ever hire you, especially not to work with the Avengers.
The joke becomes serious when you get a call from Stark Tower offering you a job. You skim over the contract eagerly and sign it immediately, jumping on the opportunity to work your dream job.
After a whirlwind week you find yourself standing in the middle of a high tech training room surrounded by Avengers. Being around a group of people as powerful as the Avengers is intimidating to say the least. The contrast between you and them is stark and you feel your confidence slip trying to keep up with them. They all assure you that you’re doing great and they’re glad to have you with them. It feels like a little family and you get pulled in immediately. You find yourself gravitating to Steve, or maybe he gravitates towards you. He shows up everywhere you go, at the water fountain filling up his bottle, running at the treadmill next to you, stretching on the mat. He watches you spar with different Avengers, giving advice and words of encouragement.
“Keep that arm up Y/N.”
“I will, thank you captain.”
“Call me Steve.”
“Steve.”  You smile.
You spar with Bucky and try to ignore Steve's looks. You don’t know if you feel flattered or uncomfortable with the attention he’s giving you. You decide that he’s probably just trying to be friendly since it’s your first day.
It doesn’t stop though and you constantly find yourself in situations with Steve. He’s in the elevator with you or walking by your room as you’re leaving. You even bump into him at the grocery store.
A week later you open your door to see Steve waiting for you just outside your room. Your heart does a flip at the sight of him standing in front of you. His hair is damp and you try to control your mind from imagining him in the shower. His tight white shirt shows off his muscles, which doesn't help your wandering mind one bit. You shift your eyes away from him and chastise yourself. God, He smells good and you wonder what soap he uses. He gives a cocky half smile and takes a step toward you.
“Good job yesterday.” He says, moving in front of your line of sight.
“Thanks.” you smile and force yourself to look him in the eyes.
He puts his hands in his pockets and rocks on his feet looking nervous.
“I thought I could treat you to coffee?”
Your heart starts beating rapidly. Is he asking you on a date? Steve Rogers asking YOU on a date? It can't be that. The flirting has to be in your head.
“I’d like that,” You mirror him, putting your hands in your pockets. You realize too late that you don’t have pockets though and end up awkwardly rubbing your hands against your sides.  Steve lets out a chuckle and you cross your arms and laugh along with him.
You follow Steve to a nearby coffee shop and he orders you a drink. The two of you sit at a semi-private table in the back next to some barely cognizant university students who are furiously typing away on their laptops.
“How are you enjoying being part of the team?” Steve asks.
“I love it! Everyone is really nice.”
“Are you nervous for your first first mission?”
“A little bit,” you confess.
“I’ll be there with you, don’t worry.”
That was definitely flirting, you think. Captain America is flirting with you.
You smile and take a sip of your coffee. This is like a romance novel, a cute coffee date with a literal super hero. It comes to an end though when you notice a kid taking a picture of the two of you. Steve frowns and cocks his head towards the prepubescent photographer.
“I think we should head back before we get more fans.” Steve Says.
Steve does a silly pose for the kid as he passes by and pulls out a signed Captain America card. The kid stands stunned looking at you as you walk out of the shop. Steve puts his hand on your back and leans in.
“Sorry this was so short. We’ll have to go somewhere more private next time.”
“Don’t apologize! The coffee was amazing, thank you so much.”
It only takes twenty minutes for you to start getting phone calls. A picture of you and Steve is all over the internet. It looks very incriminating, Steve's arm on your back and him smiling close to your ear. You answer your phone and hold it away from your ear as your friend Amy yells at you from the other end.
“Captain America!” She screams over and over again.
“Are you guys dating now or...”
“No, he was just being nice.”
“The picture looks like he’s being a lot more than nice. Please hit that Y/N, if you don’t I’ll scream.”
“You’re already screaming.” you say with a laugh.
“Seriously though, I want to be invited to your wedding one day.”
“Amy! he’s hot for sure but he’s also kinda my boss and I’m not ready for anything serious right now.” The picture of you and Steve is still in your mind. You can barely take care of yourself and certainly aren’t ready for everything involved with dating Steve Rogers.
You hang up the phone and smile to yourself. You can’t believe how your life has changed so fast. One day you’re working security at a hotel and the next you’re working with the avengers and flirting with Captain America.
---
You shake your foot nervously on the way to your first mission. Your role is simple, in fact it's almost impossible to mess up. You’re nervous anyway though. Everyone tells you it’s normal for your first mission and you take deep breaths trying to calm down.
You exit the jet and make your way into town. Your only job is to distract your mark for five minutes. You check your watch and start your way toward your mark.
“Excuse me sir?”
“Yes?”
“Do you know a good breakfast place around here?”
It’s beyond easy. You keep the conversation up for five minutes and end it quickly. Steve gives you a pat on the back after, congratulating your successful first mission. It feels off. Anyone could do what you did. You’re nowhere near as skilled as the Avengers and don’t understand why you would be picked for the job.
“What’s wrong doll?”
“I just don’t feel like I’m really good enough to be part of this team I guess.”
“You’re more than good enough.”
“But you guys are so much stronger... and faster... and smarter.”
“We look for more than those things when picking recruits. Trust me, you’re exactly what I… We need.”
You feel a little better and push away your doubts.
---
The missions become harder after the first one but you’re still never put in direct danger. They say you need more training before taking on more dangerous roles and you agree. You’re not sure if you’ll ever improve enough though and it makes you guilty, like you’re taking up space in a team that someone else could have. As you start becoming more part of the group Steve starts coming onto you more. He takes you out several times and starts becoming more physically affectionate. You like Steve. Aside from being gorgeous he’s old school, bringing you flowers and opening doors. There’s Something about him that feels disingenuous and your gut prevents you from starting a serious relationship.
You meet a barista at the same coffee shop Steve took you to. He’s cute and you  decide to give him your number impulsively. He texts you that evening and you stay up late texting back and forth. The next day everyone stares at you as you stretch before your training. You’re not sure why until you notice Steve standing outside of his office.
“Y/N, can I see you in here please.” His voice is an octave lower than usual and a chill runs down your spine.
“Of course.”
Steve closes the door and motions for you to sit down.
“I’m aware that you’ve exchanged numbers with someone who is unapproved.”
You nod slowly, confused how he knows at all and why it’s a big deal.
“This is a huge security risk.”
“I already ran a background check on him.”
Steve sits on the edge on his desk and caresses your cheek.
“Why do you want to talk to this boy when you have me?”
You push his hand away.
“I mean, I like you Steve but I’m just not ready for the commitment yet, you know that.”
His eyes narrow and he looks at the hand you pushed away.
“I understand.” He says.
You stand to leave and he calls after you.
“Oh, and remember you have a curfew. I don’t want to have to reprimand you.”
Steve feels different, unhinged. You’ve only been late a few times and only by a few minutes. You push away your worry hoping it will get better. He’s probably just not used to feeling rejected. He’ll get over it.
---
“Y/N, don’t you dare enter that building.”
“There are still people inside Steve!”
“It’s too dangerous. Help is on the way, don’t do it.”
You rip the com out of your ear and run into the building. There’s smoke everywhere and you cover your face with your arm. You make fast work of reaching the blocked room, breaking the door in and letting the room of people out. You escort them out of the building and to safety.
“Thank you so much.” A woman says, hugging you.
“No problem.” You smile.
The building starts collapsing in front of your eyes and you watch it burn. You walk back to the jet, coughing and bruised and get checked out as soon as you land.
Steve waits for you outside of medical.
“What were you thinking Agent!”
“Not now Steve.”
“It’s Captain and yes now.”
You sigh.
“I was thinking, Captain, that I needed to get those people out and I was right.”
“And what would have happened if the building had come down on you? Help was coming and you had an order. You’re lucky your lungs are ok with the smoke you inhaled.”
You push Steve out of your way and walk towards your room.
“It was a risk I was willing to take,” you call back.
You reach your room and take a long shower, thinking about everything. As much as you want to fit in with them you just don’t. Something tells you that you need to quit. You need to get out of here and never look back. you decide that you’ll hand in a two week notice tomorrow.
The next morning you wake and dress quickly still feeling the same as the night before. You head to your door and turn the knob but find it locked.
“What the fuck?” you pound on the door but nobody answers. You pick up your phone to call for help. It won’t connect to the internet or call anyone. Your computer is the same way. As the day passes you start feeling more and more uneasy. They have to know by now that something is wrong with you. your voice is raw from yelling for help and your hands bloody and bruised from pounding on the door.
Finally, hours later you hear the click of your door unlocking. You open it to see Steve standing with his arms crossed on the other side.
“I was locked in my room.” you say in a quiet voice.
“I know, I locked you in.”
“What’s wrong with you? That’s insane Steve!”
Adrenaline rushes through your body and you start pacing. Everything is telling you to get out. This is not what you signed up for.
“I quit.” you say defiantly.
Steve rushes toward you, pinning you to the wall. None of your self defence training helps you. He’s so much bigger and stronger, trying to fight is a joke. You know your best bet is to stun him somehow and run but you can barely move.
“You can’t quit doll.” He brushes a hand down your body, giving your butt a squeeze. Your eyes widen in shock.
“I’ll report you.”
“To who?”
You start thinking, your eyes darting back and forth. He slides his hand into the front of your pants and rubs the bulge in his pants against you. your breath hitches and you relax your body a bit. You scream at yourself to do something. The hand in your pants rubs against your clit expertly and it takes everything you have not to let out a moan.
“Ah, I see you’re getting it.”
His finger slides to your entrance and he prods you before submerging his finger. You gasp at the intrusion and realize that he’s barely holding onto you anymore. Your hands grasp his shoulders and you lean against him.
“This would have been much easier if you had followed my plan. You had to go putting yourself in danger.” He chides.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please you’re scaring me Steve.” you say,
“It was going so well but you’re unpredictable, flirting with that barista.”
He pushes his finger in deeper and you whimper.
“If I don’t take action now I might lose you and I can’t lose you.”
“Get away from me,” you beg.
He grasps your hip painful tight.
“You're my girl now, ok? My girl doesn’t disobey me, especially not on missions.”
He pumps his finger, coating it with slick.
You realize that he won’t listen to reason but you try anyway.
“I’m so sorry you’re right I’m your… your girl, just let me go please.”
He pulls his finger out and gives you a kiss.
“See, there’s a good girl.”
He pulls a ring out of his pocket and places it on your finger. His watch vibrates and he looks at it before kissing you on the cheek.
“We can celebrate tomorrow.” He winks.
He leaves you in the hallway and you back into your room, shaking and crying.  You don’t care if he locks you in again. You need to be in a place where you feel somewhat safe and can process everything that just happened. You take the ring off and throw it across the room.
The night is spent curled in your bed crying and the next morning you walk self consciously to the kitchen. Bucky sits at the counter eating cereal and he knits his brow when he sees you.
“Hey, what’s wrong.”
You shake your head.
“You can tell me.” He looks at you with his big kind eyes and you decide to confide in him.
“Steve… assaulted me. He’s out of his mind, saying all sorts of crazy stuff. I don’t know what to do.”
Bucky holds you close.
“You’re his girl Y/N, don’t provoke him and you’ll have a good life.”
You tear yourself away and look at him with disbelief.
“It’s not a secret Y/N and we’re on Steve's side.”
You back away and head straight for the exit hitting Tony on the way
“Woah, what’s the rush?”
“I quit.” you say, tears starting to fall.
“You can’t quit princess, you’re Steve’s.”
Your breaths become shallow and your head starts feeling light.
“How did you think you got the job in the first place Y/N?”
You run to the elevator slamming the button over and over but it won’t let you down.
“What’s wrong with Y/N?” Thor walks over.
“She’s having a hard time adjusting to being Steve’s,” Tony answers.
“Let me out.” you yell.
Steve comes out of nowhere catching you in his arms and you throw your head back and duck. He stumbles back. Other Avengers start to gather and you pull your fists up in defense.
“I want to leave.”
“Come with me back to your room doll, it doesn’t have to be this hard.”
You stand your ground and Steve goes into a fighting stance. You don’t even have a chance, he has you trapped in his arms within minutes.
“I don’t understand.”
“We got your application in the mail. As soon as I saw your picture I knew you were the one I’ve been looking for.” he coos.
“Why go through the whole facade?”
“Use your brain Y/N. Everyone knows we’re together. There’s pictures of us everywhere online. You’ve talked to friends and family about our relationship. It won’t look weird when you drop off for a while because of your job and when you come back engaged nobody will blink an eye.”
“No.”
You look at the Avengers, you’re family. None of them do anything to help you. Every single one turns their back and walks away nonchalantly like it’s just another normal day.
Steve drags you to your room and closes the door. He walks over to where you threw your ring grabbing it off the floor, and places it back on your finger.
“This doesn’t come off again,” He says.
You look at the ring and back at Steve over and over trying to make sense of all of it. Steve walks purposefully to the drawer you keep your candles and lights several, placing them around the room.
He backs you into the bed and undresses you slowly and meticulously. He sits back and looks at your naked body, taking his time touching and examining every piece. He grabs your legs and parts them, looking at your pussy and two fingers in.
“So wet for me already.”
You shake your head and he lands a slap on your thigh.
“No.” He commands.
“Be good so I don’t have to punish you. You’ve seen me work, you know what I’m capable of.”
You bite your tongue and force yourself to lie still as he slams his cock into you. You cry out in pain and he rubs your arm and whispers sweet things. He kisses you as he pushes his cock deep into you. He grabs your chin and squeezes until you open up and let his tongue in.  you reach out and grab his arms and he pulls at your leg until you hug them around him.
“You can come Y/N.” he whispers
You shake your head.
He reaches between you and pushes against your clit. You fight against it for as long as you can but it becomes too much. An orgasm crashes over you and you flutter around his cock. He thrusts hard enough that you get pushed into the headboard and seconds later he’s coming in you. He smiles down at you, lovingly stroking you face.
“I love you Y/N”
You stay silent and he pulls you into a constricting hug.
“Don’t worry doll, you’ll love me soon.”  
You’ve always been the type of person to jump into things without thinking. It’s gotten you into plenty of trouble throughout your life. You’ve always been able to get yourself out of it,
but this time.
This time you jumped too far.
444 notes · View notes
hotdamnhunnam · 3 years
Text
Show Them I’m Yours
A/N: Everyone knows there ain’t no party like a SAMCRO party. Imagine you’re Jax Teller’s girl and you want everyone to know, so he savagely takes you at one of those parties and puts on a hell of a show. (@itsme-autumn suggested that I write this and I was like um hell fucking yes)
Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, sex with an audience (Jax owning your ass and showing off that fact in front of all the Sons – they all get to watch but ONLY JAX can touch), featuring gifs of pretty much everyone
Word Count: ~2.9k
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“Excuse me, sir?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest. Appalled at the audacity of what this stupidly attractive bastard just dared to suggest. “No, I did not fuck up my car on purpose.”
The Prince of Charming smirks at that, hands on his hips, tongue flicking out between his suckable pink lips. “You sure about that, princess? Third time in a week that you’ve come by to get it serviced...”
“Oh, so you’ve been keeping track?” you sass back at him, flattered as fuck that he has, though your pride demands hiding that fact. Of course you’ve been screwing around with your engine all week just to have an excuse to hit up Teller-Morrow and check out his ass, to be honest. But fuck him for calling you out on it. “You’re not even the one who fixes shit. My visits here are not your business, and I’m not your fucking princess.”
His leather-clad shoulders lift up in a shrug, like he couldn’t care less. “Suit yourself. Name’s Jax,” he says with another long drag of his cigarette. “Jax Teller. Knew a stuck-up little bitch like you would be too proud to ask.”
Fucking shit. He knows you well. And hearing him call you a bitch just got you wetter than you would like to admit; you hope to hell that he can’t tell. “Maybe this stuck-up bitch just isn’t fucking interested.”
You flip him off and drive away—your car is really functioning just fine, needless to say—but you’re inevitably back by sex-o’-clock the very next day.
It’s been barely a month since you first moved to Charming, and you’re still not really used to feeling so damn new. It’s honestly alarming, just how shamelessly the men around town gawk at you. Don’t even seem to realize that it’s rude. You’re well aware you’re super cute, but till you moved here, you had never felt so... coveted. So viewed.
Nowhere more so than right here at Teller-Morrow. Home of the infamous biker club known as SAMCRO. The way the crew here always ogles you like heaven’s gift to men is quite a big boost to your ego.
“Know what I think, darlin’?” Jax taunts, sauntering toward your car as you pull in. “I think you know exactly what you’re doing. Know that every man in Charming wants a piece of that sweet ass.”
“Well, Mr. Teller...” you step out of the driver’s seat, standing to face him, close enough to feel his heat. “This ass ain’t up for grabs.”
Jax takes that as a challenge: as an open invitation, as he should. Slowly moves closer, feeding all your deepest hungers—God, he smells so fucking good—then wraps one hand around your back, the other sliding toward your ass... to show you just how wrong you were. “Oh, we’ll see about that.”
Jesus Christ—you want this man to fuck you up against your car, savage and hard, right fucking now... but he has something else in mind. Invites you to a party tonight, at the SAMCRO clubhouse. Who are you to deny?
He approaches his crew, as you drive away, fading from view. All the Sons stand in awe of their President—stunned that he just fucking conquered you.
“Dude, you gonna hit that?” Juice effuses, unable to hide his excitement. “Hot damn...”
Jax Fucking Teller stands tall like the king that he is and has always been, flashing his signature cocky grin. “Hell yeah I am.”
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***************
You have no clue what you are about to walk into. Of course you were shameless enough to choose your most provocative outfit: a skimpy excuse for a dress that covers very little of you, paired with your favorite fuck-me-now shoes. Jax had offered to pick you up from where you live, the Prince Charming he is—but as much as you’d kill for a ride on his Harley, you wanted to ride on your own dime, show up at your own time, keep up the illusion that you’re in control of your shit. You’re all decked out and ready to go nice and early, but hold off on heading out yet—figure you should play hard to get, keep the guy waiting a bit.
Your self-restraint lasts for a solid two minutes. 
There’s no hope of fighting how desperate you are for his dick. The thong that you’re wearing is made of some thin flimsy lace, so your pussy is leaking all over the place, and the seat of your car is all sticky and slick. That’s real fucking classy, Y/N, you think, quite ashamed of the nasty-ass slut you’re becoming.
By the time you arrive, every cell in your barely-dressed body feels so damn alive at the thought of Jax taking you home once the party is over and railing you all fucking night...
You don’t yet know it then, but waiting till the party is over is not what Jax Teller intends. No, you’re gonna get fucked good and hard long before it all ends.
Parking your car outside, you try and fail to steady your nerves with a long horny sigh as you shut off your engine. Preparing yourself for whatever is coming tonight. Finally stepping out, struggling to pull off a smooth sexy strut as you head toward the clubhouse. All right. Let the party begin.
From the second you walk in, you feel downright soaked in pure sin. All you can see are half-naked strangers slobbering all over each other, bodies pressed together, a blur of sweat-slick skin and old worn-out leather. The place stinks of sex, smoke and liquor, and you couldn’t possibly feel any sicker. Oh God, this is straight up disgusting—fuck this shit, you think, regretting having ever decided to come...
But before you can turn and head straight out the door, you lay eyes on the king, and remember exactly why you had accepted the invitation into his fucking kingdom. And all of a sudden your senses go numb and your slutty ass feels... right at home.
“There you are,” he greets you with a ravenous growl in his voice that resounds over all of the noise. “Now the party’s about to start. Glad that I got you to come, sweetheart.”
The gorgeous motherfucker’s lips curve up into a smirk, as he utters that sinful little word, and it has got to be the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever heard.
“Don’t get too cocky, Jax,” you tease him back, as his piercing blue eyes devour your entire figure, clearly pleased to see that you’re practically naked. “Still gonna have to work at that... I haven’t come just yet.”
He snickers, lustfully biting his lip as he reaches around you to grab at your ass through your dress, rendering you a dripping mess just at the touch of his fingers. “No, but already soaking wet, I bet.”
Oh God, yes... those are the only words that come into your head, a silent gasp for air, as his big strong frame slams you up against the nearest wall and holds you there, one hand upon your ass now as the other tangles roughly in your hair.
“Darlin’, you got any clue just how bad I’ve been wanting to fuck you?” he snarls, breathing heated against your skin, making your pussy clench and your toes curl. “You know, ever since this fine ass came to town... all those times you would come around... Christ, all I’ve wanted to do... is just pin you the fuck down... and show the whole fucking world who you belong to. Claim you as my dirty girl.”
Every word from his mouth has you spiraling down into some sort of sex-drunk submissive daze. Lost in a haze, everything else around you fades... until you realize, in a split second, that you and Jax are the focus of literally everybody’s gaze. Looking over his shoulder at the whole rest of the room, you are beyond surprised to find all fucking eyes on you and him. You feel the blood drain from your face. This seems like honestly too much to take—and yet you can’t deny, something about the spectacle of all of this has got you feeling... well, some kind of way...
“Yeah, they’re all watching, babe,” Jax devilishly taunts, reading your mind, lips on your neck and hands groping your tits and God that feels fucking divine. “Like the attention? Kinky little thing, I know it turns you on. What’d’ya say we fuck in front of them and give ‘em what they want?”
It’s not as if you have a choice, when Jax Teller is talking in that motherfucking mouthwatering voice. At this point you are nothing but his filthy fucking toy.
Now that your fate has been sealed as exactly that, he’s gonna give you the most epic sex you’ve ever fucking had.
Handling you like a damn rag doll, Jax swiftly shifts off of the wall, then throws you down over a pool table conveniently nearby, with your back pressed against the surface as he stands between your open thighs and effortlessly rips your dress to shreds. Strips off your thong next, tattered lace lost in a heap down on the floor between your legs. The look on his breathtakingly beautiful face with every move he makes is just pure fucking sex. 
And just like that, here in a room packed full of people most of whom you’ve never met, you are stark fucking naked, legs spread, soaking wet and loving every goddamn minute since apparently you’re seriously fucked up in the head.
Staring straight up into his blazing bright blue eyes, as he so proudly claims you as his prize, you’ve never felt so damn alive. But also dead.
“Mmm, look at that...” he hums, teasing your wet cunt with a cruel flick of his thumb. “Who fucking owns this pretty pussy, hmm? This nice tight ass you got?”
Oh, God—how is it even possible for everything he says and does to be so fucking hot...? Though you can barely speak, needy and weak, you know this bastard has demanded that you answer. So you tell him what is so painfully true. “You do, Jax. All you.”
He growls in pleasure, and you couldn’t possibly get any wetter. You’re officially the property of Jackson Fucking Teller. And he wants to hear you say it, which is just about the hottest fucking thing ever. “Tell ‘em, whore. Tell the whole room who fucking owns you. Wanna hear you tell ‘em who.”
And so you do. The words fall freely from your open mouth. You say it loud and proud. “Jax Fucking Teller owns my ass.”
The room responds with raucous shouts and cheers, resounding in your ears. You barely even notice, though, because now Jax has started stripping off his clothes—everything’s happening so fast—and as you lay eyes on his downright godlike body you are not sure just how much longer your slipping grip on sanity can last. He hasn’t even taken out his cock yet, but the moment that he does... you’re pretty sure you won’t even be conscious anymore.
So you form words, while you still can, beholding this god of a man. “Want you to show ‘em, Jax. Please. Show off how you own me. Fuck me like just what I am, your dirty little whore. Show them I’m yours.”
Jax doesn’t need to be asked twice. Next thing you know his massive cock is finally free, the fucking perfect piece of meat standing so tall and proud and hard between his strong muscular thighs, and he wastes no damn time at all giving exactly what you need. He takes a firm hold of your knees to spread your legs out even wider to receive everything that he has to give... and then he drives his cock inside you in one swift soul-crushing thrust and Jesus Christ, as every fiber of your being dies, you realize that until this moment you had never truly lived.
You barely register anything else that’s happening around you, but on some level you do. It’s even hotter knowing just how much the whole crew is enjoying this amazing fucking view.
“God, that’s so fucking hot...” Juice mutters from his front row spot, stupidly hoping no one else will notice as he scrapes your tattered thong off of the floor and stuffs it quickly in his pocket.
Tig snickers loudly from where he’s standing nearby. “You little pervert. We all saw that.”
Juice points his finger at the guy. “Pervert? Seriously? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black...”
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In the meantime, none of that got past the king. Jax doesn’t miss a thing, and he’s possessive of his property, beyond belief. He promptly shoots a sharp glare at the thong thief. “Think you can try and take what’s mine? I’m gonna be needing that back.”
The look on Juice’s face, at that... you cannot help but laugh, and have a little pity. Something about this whole dynamic with the audience around you has restored a little sanity and dignity, and you’re able to string words together, even while you’re still getting completely fucked to pieces by Jax Teller. 
“Aw, let him have it, Jax. Poor guy’s just picking up scraps. You’re the one who still owns my whole ass.”
Chiming in with his distinctive accent, Chibs echoes your laugh with an approving clap. “Now would ya look at that. So generous! Jackie Boy, you got yourself there one hell of a lass.”
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You smile at him with a playful wink as Jax keeps pushing deeper in, his cock seemingly harder with every thrust, bigger the farther it sinks. “Fuck yeah, he does. You jealous?”
“Aye, as if you have to ask...”
Jax doesn’t like it when you spend more than two seconds with your eyes on anybody else. Although he knows no one’s an actual threat, that fact still doesn’t change how possessive he gets. He takes his hands off of your legs now to powerfully grab your head, keeping your face in place just where he wants it, your gaze fixed on him alone as he keeps fucking you dead.
You can still hear the chorus of indistinct voices:
“Fuck her up!”
“Own that slut!”
“Pound that pussy, Pres!”
And so he does, making you moan and beg him for more, spouting out filth like a two-dollar whore, as his huge monster cock brings you closer and closer to climax. “Fuck yes—Jesus Christ, holy fucking shit—destroy me with that dick—God, you’re so big—fuck, Jax...!”
It feels like you’re about to burst. Happy, for one, seems to want that to happen. He’s more into the action than the words. “Just shut her up and fuck her harder. Till it hurts.”
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You didn’t think that it would be humanly possible for Jax to fuck you any harder than he has been, in these past however many fucking minutes... but apparently it is. And the mind-blowing pain that it causes is pure fucking bliss. All of a sudden he picks up the pace, hips ramming into you so hard the table seems about to break, grunting and groaning out with every move he makes and leaning down to suck the screams out of your mouth, drilling deeper into every inch of your body and drowning you in his delicious taste as he devours your face.
Fuck if that’s not a one-way ticket straight to subspace.
Although your consciousness is all but gone, you try to stay afloat now as Jax pulls back from the kiss to ask one last question. “Who owns this fucking cunt?”
You couldn’t give less of a shit just how insane you sound right now. You’re honestly just proud that you can speak English somehow. “You own this cunt! You own my whole entire ass! You fucking own me, Jax! You... fucking... unghhhh...”
The whole entire room knows what’s about to happen. And as you come undone, some part of you can hear them jeering, cheering, every one of them so damn proud and supportive of their king... 
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But for the most part you can only hear and see and feel one thing: Jax Fucking Teller all around you, deep inside you, splitting you right fucking open, filling you up with his white hot cum until it feels as if your whole goddamn existence served the sole purpose of leading up to this one perfect moment, to this epically earth-shattering explosion...
There is no better feeling in the world than being owned by him. You know it now, and so does everybody in this room. Damn did he show them. Just as you had asked. Jax Fucking Teller went off and did that. Showed off ow utterly and undeniably he owns your whole entire fucking ass.
You end up spending just a few more lazy minutes making out, tongues halfway down each other’s throats. “Mmmm, glad that I got you to come, Y/N,” he gloats, again, smirking in smug satisfaction now that the task is finally done.
But the night is still young. So you tell him. “Well, Teller—you should know that your dirty girl has three fuckable holes... and you’ve only fucked one.”
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***************
Thank you for reading!!! Writing this was TOO MUCH FUN. Hope you enjoyed it and would love to hear if you did! 🤗❤️
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donutloverxo · 4 years
Text
No more waiting
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Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!
Note - Part two to Pink Lady.
Dividers by @whimsicalrogers
Summary - Andy is determined to wait. But will he be able to?
Warnings - 18+ only smut (m/f), professor/student relationship, unprotected sex, dom Andy, many mentions of spanking but no actual spanking, sir kink.
Pairing - Andy Barber x reader
Word count - 3320
Masterlist is linked in the bio!
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You groaned as you tossed out yet another piece of clothing. Professor Barber had asked you to come to his house, so he could give you ‘private lessons’. Obviously, you had no interest in actually studying. Especially with a man who looks like Andy Barber. You intended on milking the time you did have with him by getting what you wanted.
You settled on a tight skirt that hadn’t fit you in years. It was sexy enough to be enticing but innocent enough that you could claim plausible deniability.
You are not trying to tease him. You would never! You’re just wearing a normal skirt and taking lessons like the diligent and sincere student that you are.
You whistled lowly, pulling over in front of his house, impressed by the sheer size of it. He was an actual adult with a big, sophisticated house in the suburbs. The most valuable thing you owned was a Louis Vuitton bag an ex gave you.
You couldn’t be intimidated. Not now, when you were in this deep. Checking your lipstick one last time you rang the bell, holding your books up and eagerly waiting.
After a minute he opened the door. Leaning over the frame and examining you.
You felt butterflies pool in your stomach at his casual loungewear. His sleeves rolled up, exposing his tones arms to you and those dark jeans hugging him so perfectly. You really couldn’t decide if you preferred this or those business suits.
“You’re late.” he scolded you as you rolled your eyes. Of course that’s the first thing he'd say to you. “What have I said about rolling your eyes at me?” he cocked his head to the side, as if daring you to provoke him.
You hummed in thought, “I don’t remember.... Oh yes!” you beamed as if you’d had an epiphany “to do it as often as I can!”
He stared you down for a moment before shaking his head as he chuckled. “Get in here. What am I going to do with you?”
You were about to be a smartass some more, cooking up a dirty response in your head, just to see how far you could push him but then he put his hand on your lower back. You felt shivers run up your spine, goose bumps all over your skin as you squirmed under his touch.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, shutting the door behind you.
You gulped as you nodded, “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? I’m just here to study.” You laughed to ease your own nerves.
“Go sit on the table,” he instructed.
You pulled out a chair, placing your books on the dining table. He sat in front of you, nursing a beer. “Let’s start. Where do you struggle the most?”
“Can I have one too?” You were about to take the bottle from him to take but he swatted your hands away.
“Absolutely not. You need a clear head to study. And we both know you can’t handle your alcohol.”
You scoffed incredulously, “I can so! And if I can’t have it then neither should you.” you puffed your cheeks before mumbling “beer tastes gross anyway.”
“Why do you have to make everything so difficult?” he groaned pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s not forget, I’m doing you a favor here.”
“I know, maybe I could thank you for it.” you licked your lips. Thinking of his heavy cock in your mouth, the biggest you’ve ever had, it was a challenge to deep throat him. You weren’t one to just give it away for free and not expect anything in return. But... anything for professor Barber.
“That’s cute,” he said condescendingly, giving you a fake wide smile. “Now start studying or I’ll have to spank you,” he warned.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you giggled shamelessly, not really understanding how that would be a punishment, but then opened your book when he gave you a stern look.
He got up and walked to the stove check on his sauce. He just needed to get away from you for a moment and take a breather.
He hasn’t thought this through.
His original plan was to tutor you and get your grades up. So that you could graduate and he could ask you out without endangering his job and reputation. He intended to keep his hands to himself till then. One slip up and you both would have to face grave consequences.
The blow job in his office - was a mistake. Although it was too good to be something he mourned or regretted. He should’ve said no but you knew just to push his buttons. Just like the ridiculous schoolgirl skirt you were wearing tonight. Or how your tight shirt and cleavage left nothing to his imagination.
Worse of all was that fucking red lip. He hated that you had tasted him and he couldn’t even kiss you. What he wouldn’t give for just a quick peck.
“Mr Barber,” he heard you call for him and groaned as his cock stirred at your chirpy tone. He loathed just how far gone he was for you. You, sitting up so sweetly with your breasts pushed up together, certainly don’t make it any easier.
“I’m all done. Can we get on to the fun part now? Pretty please?” you cooed batting your lashes at him.
“The fun part is studying - keep telling yourself that and you might actually like it.” he suggested and you rolled your eyes again. He had half a mind to bend you over the table, lift up your skirt and pull down your panties, even though he was pretty sure you weren’t wearing any, and teach you a lesson. “Careful. Or they’ll get stuck up there.” He tapped your forehead with his finger.
“I meant the actual fun part.” Boldly, you reached over and palmed his crotch through his jeans. Not really surprised to find him aroused.
“Stop,” he gritted as he grabbed at your wrist with a bruising grip. “I told you, we’re not doing that. Not till you graduate or I’ll lose my job.”
“What about what we did in your office?” you pouted.
“That was a mistake. You left me no choice.”
You frowned, “Right. I overpowered you because you’re so weak and helpless.”
“Enough. Now study and then we can have dinner.”
“And then we have dessert?” You wiggled your brows suggestively.
“No. Then you drive back to your dorm.” he ignored your pitiful puppy eyes and sat across you, working on his cases. Maybe that would inspire you to actually get some studying done.
“Do you not like law?” he asked after over an hour.
You hummed as you heard him. Too engrossed in studying, you didn’t even register his words. You didn’t remember the last time you had concentrated so well. “Meh. It’s alright I guess. I wouldn’t wanna go to law school though.”
“Then what do you want to do?” he dropped his pen leaning back on the chair, crossing his arms across his chest.
“I don’t know. I guess what you do sounds nice,” you mumbled making notes with your glitter pens.
“Being a DA?”
“Yeah. It just sounds so hard though. Like going to law school and then being an intern for years and then working for like eighty hours a week...”
“Anything worth having is always hard to achieve.” he stated. Aware of how the same applies to his situation. He wants, no needs you, but if he wants to do this the right way - he has to wait.
“I guess you’re right.” you agreed.
After going over your notes and quizzing you, he was satisfied with your progress. He set the table for dinner.
“Good job,” he smiled, feeling his heart swell with pride. “See, you put your mind to something and you can absolutely achieve it.”
You squinted your eyes, “No spanking then?”
He chuckled “Nope. Not for now. I’m your tutor, that’s all.” he said more so to himself, to remember, to have some self control, it will pay off.
“Oh my gosh!” you moaned as the creamy tangy sauce burst your taste buds “I can’t remember the last time I ate something that wasn’t ramen.”
He shook his head “You need to eat better to study better.”
“But I don’t know how to cook!” you whined.
“Then I guess I’ll have you teach you that too.”
He helped you pack your things up, moving as slow as a sloth. Not wanting you to leave just yet. He couldn’t have enough of you. Maybe he’d ask you to stay in the guestroom. He had a perfectly good excuse, it was late. But he wasn’t sure he could trust himself to keep his hands off of you.
“Goodbye then. I’m going to quiz you tomorrow. Don’t forget.” he said walking you to his door. He turned to see you blinking up at him.
He never thought he’d be so smitten with someone so different than him. All his life he dated women his age or older. They suited his old soul much better, none of his relationships really went anywhere, maybe he was too cautious to actually let someone in. To open up enough, to reveal his true self to anyone.
But you were unlike anyone he had ever met, it was as if you were exotic. So bright - almost blinding. So young and sweet. You made him feel things he never thought he could. You could be the proverbial ying to his yang.
“Yeah yeah, I remember,” you waved him off. Still salty that you didn’t get to do any of the naughty stuff you had planned. “Is there something on my face?” You touched your cheek when you caught him staring at you. Letting out a shaky breath and cowering under his predatory gaze.
“I’ll try harder next time!” you panicked, assuming you did a bad job at studying. You tried your best. What else were you supposed to do? The idea of a spanking sounded more scary than sexy to you now.
“Fuck it,” he gritted as he crashed his lips over yours, grabbing your waist and your hip to still you. He invaded your mouth with his tongue, taking his time to explore all your nooks. Sucking your bottom lip between his lips before releasing it with a smack he pulled away. Both of you heaving and trying to catch your breath.
You threw your arms around his neck, pressing hot and quick kisses “I thought we were going to wait,” you said against his lips.
“I can’t. I thought I could. I’m only a man, you know?” he sighed as he pulled you in, exploring your body with his hands “What do you want to do?” As impatient as he was, he would never force himself on you or do anything without your permission.
“I just... I - ” Your cheeks instantly heat up as you stutter. As naughty as your filthy mind was, it had to choose this moment to betray you. “You know, you know! Oh my god,” you smacked your forehead “Are you really gonna make me say it?”
“Yes,” he breathed, leaning down to suck your earlobe “say it.” He peppered butterfly kisses on your jaw and down your neck. Sucking thoroughly on a spot that made you moan.
“Fine!” you huffed. Feeling his fingers ghost over your inner thighs. “Professor – sir, will you please fuck me. As in put your man missile in my special princess place.” you said in a mock seductive tone.
“Don’t sass me.” he groaned, pushing his erection into you, he put his hands on your shoulders to turn you around, lightly smacking your butt he urged you to go upstairs. “Come on, hurry up. We don’t have all night.” You did have all night but his patience, as it often did with you, was running thin.
You made yourself comfortable on his bed, working on his belt and unzipping his pants. “I’ve never been this addicted to a cock before, professor,” you husked pulling him out of his underwear and licking a firm stripe up his slit, his hand holding onto your head. “I hope you know you’re special.” you beamed at him through hooded eyes. Wrapping your lips around his weeping tip, about to swallow him whole but he pushes your head away.
“Right back at ya, honey. Now,” he laid down on his back beside you as you stared at him, so adorably confused, “come sit on my face.”
“What?!” you unintentionally screamed -in delightful horror. It had always been a fantasy of yours, so downright dirty, and you have a chance to do it with your dream man? You would be a fool to turn him down, but you were anxious, that beard between your thighs would be a bit too much for you to handle.
He didn’t give you any time to think about it, grabbing your hips and swiftly placing you on top of his head, “Oh!” you yelped at the coarse feel of his whiskers against your pussy. You held onto his short silky locks for support as he worked on steadying you “That’s - ” you were cut off when he wrapped his mouth around your clit, sucking it harshly.
“You’re already so wet,” The vibrations from his words sent a jolt up your spine “And you’re not wearing any panties,” he tutted before diving back in, determined to not stop until you’re seeing stars.
“Are you really surprised - holy shit,” you gasped as you felt his tongue prodding at your entrance before slipping in. It was so strange and new, the velvety warm feel of it was almost too good. “Oh, I’m gonna come.” you whimpered.
“No,” he pulled away “you don’t come without permission. Is that understood?”
You frantically nod your head, under any other circumstances you would’ve argued, who the hell does he think he is to deny or control your orgasms? But you were putty in his hands and desperate to have that sweet release. “Please, sir, can I come?”
“May I come.” He corrected you “You need to learn some manners.”.
And you had to supress the urge to call him names, “May I come, sir? Please.” you said breathlessly as he lapped you up.
“Yes, you may.”
You sobbed, his fingers digging into your ass and his tongue working magic on you was too good all at once. A string of curses and loud moans left your mouth, your climax hitting you in waves of pleasure, you held onto the headboard as your legs turned into jello.
“That was amazing,” you panted, mewling as he nipped at your sensitive flesh.
You got off of him, kneeling beside him as he got up, his beard drenched in your juices which he rubbed off with the back of his hand. Placing a sloppy kiss on your lips, to make you taste your own arousal, he pushed you down on his mattress and worked on ridding you of your clothes.
You pulled the helm of his shirt up “Off!” you whined. He was too far gone to chastise you so he took off his clothes, throwing them away before he got a good look at you.
He groaned at your naked form. He had thought of you while pleasuring himself more than once. He wouldn’t even be bothered to be ashamed of it. He thought of your lips and small hands wrapped around his girth, how tight and hot your cunt would feel, but most of all how beautiful you’d look when you were completely bare.
He painted a pretty picture in his head, but really, he never could do you any justice. His imagination could never be that strong.
“Is something wrong?” you bashfully averted your eyes from him.
“No. You’re just so... perfect.” he couldn’t come up with a better word.
You scoffed, “You’re just saying that. There are a million things I’d change about myself. I’m not the one who’s perfect!” you frowned. Tempted to touch his defined abs. His broad shoulders and bulky form looked ridiculously big between your legs.
“I don’t have time to argue,” He absolutely would not have you or anyone else, putting you down. Bur right now, his cock was aching to be buried in your heat. If he waited any longer he was afraid he’d burst. He lined his cock up to your entrance, watching intently as he slowly pushed in “but we will have a discussion about that, later.” he groaned as he bottomed out.
“What?” You had no idea what he was even going on about. His cock was stretching you out “It’s too big,” you cried. You felt as if you were being split in half.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can handle it. I’ll be gentle.” He was aware that he was much bigger than average. So he stayed inside you for a few moments, letting you get accustomed to his length. He slipped a hand between your joined bodies, spreading your lips open with his fingers.
“Don’t - don’t do that.” Him looking at your pussy like that, when you were so vulnerable before him made you flustered.
“Look,” he told you and you only shook your head. He sternly said your name and ordered you to look again.
You propped yourself up on your elbows, gulping as you sneaked a peek, whimpering at the sight of his girth buried inside you.
“You have such a pretty pussy you know that?” He gushed before making a ‘tch' sound and stilling your hips, stopping your pathetic attempts at wiggling them. “Wait a minute, will you?” he wasn’t done admiring you and savoring you.
“Please,” you begged as tears fell down your cheeks.
He grumbled something under his breath before pulling out of you, his tip still buried in your heat, he pushed back in forcefully.
You threw your head back, clutching your pillow tightly as his hips rutted into you. His pelvis rubbing your swollen clit every time he bottomed out.
“Can I - can I come?” you remembered to ask him even though you were too delirious to even comprehend what you we’re sayings. Everything around you slipped into an abyss. His groans echoing in the room, his bruising grip on your hip, and his cock driving into you again and again, touching all your sweet spots.
You weren’t sure you could stop yourself even if he said no. But you knew he’d never be that mean. You vaguely heard him say ‘yes' before you let go. Clenching around his length as you slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming anymore.
His hips stuttered, pulling his length out of you, he stroked himself above you. Your fucked out state only fuelling his aggressive jerks as spurts of his seed landed on your stomach and your titts.
He held onto your knee, swirling his cum that painted your skin so beautiful with his fingers, “Looks pretty on you,” He smeared some on your nipple before pulling it between his fingers.
“Ouch,” you grimaced as he released it. “Too sensitive right now.” you closed your eyes, already feeling drowsy.
He hummed “I’ll let you sleep for a few hours.” He used his discarded shirt to clean his cum off of you before throwing it away and pulling you in his arms. He nuzzled his nose in your hair, feeling satiated with your soft warm body against him.
“You have god tier stamina, man.” You murmured “Andy, you couldn’t even last a day. What happened to being patient? What will people say?” you giggled, burying your head in his chest.
“That’s Professor Barber to you.” he smiled, kissing your temple. Even tired, you were still a spitfire. He’d deal with all that the next day. “It was worth it.”
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inkytrinket-irii · 3 years
Text
Petting Party (pt 1)
Rundown of dimensions AU: Quackity’s from 1920s dimension called Prowa, Schlatt and Charlie are his business partners *cough found family cough* and they run a casino/speakeasy. Sapnap is a knight from a fantasy dimension called Quarry. Karl is like Dr.Who. 
tw - Mentions of guns and alcohol (1920s mobster dimension)
 This is really just the fluffiest full I have ever written. 
•••
@thecatchat
•••
•••
Quackity walked through his rooms, digging around drawers for his keys. He squawked a little in frustration as he rummaged. He felt so paranoid, like he was already short on time even though he was about half an hour early and it’s not like Sapnap or Karl would mind waiting. He just wanted this to go perfectly. They’d had dates in his world before, they’d even had proper ones where they weren’t running from cops or mobsters or some other guns/knife/bat-wielding foes. Heh, foes. He was starting to think like Sapnap… and he was starting to feel like Karl— where was his damn key? Karl had literal worlds full of stuff to keep track of, it only made sense he got turned around and mixed up, what was Quackity’s excuse? 
Finally, a glint caught his eye and he snatched up the silver piece of metal, stuffing it into his sleeve and practically skipping to the front. Their home was really just the back half of the casino so he just walked through into the back room. Schlatt and Charlie were sitting at a table, various game pieces scattered across the top, counting cards, chips, and cash. Charlie seemed to be in the middle of a failed game of solitaire and was stacking up a house of cards while Schlatt was just old-fashioned sorting, looking rather bored. It was a quiet night for them. Probably a few drinks and catching up till bed after they double-check the games for cheating. Quackity would usually join them but it wasn’t strange for him not to show. He gave them a wave as he walked past, motion enough for them to look up and acknowledge him. 
Schlatt only glanced up before returning to his work. “What’s with the getup?” 
“I told youse, I’m going out tonight.” 
“Doesn’t answer my question.” 
“I’m going out to meet my partners.” Quackity struck a joking pose. “No harm in good impressions.” 
“Hey,” Charlie frowned childishly, “aren’t we your partners?” 
Quackity chuckled, rolling his eyes, “Of course. My new partners, then. Actually, lemme see a cut of that doe, I wanna butter ‘em up tonight.” He snatched a few bills from the table and turned to make his exit. 
“Wait,” Schlatt commanded, still barely looking up from his work. “Partners like you’re out for coffee to discuss getting new tables?” He took a sharp bite of his apple, eyes lazily growing dark. “Or do youse mean partners like I outta trail behind... y’know, keep you from gettin’ lead poisoning.” 
“Uh...” Quackity blinked. “Partners like I’m off to a petting party.”  
Schlatt choked. Charlie laughed while he coughed, moving to pat his back and smiled at Quackity. “Well, good luck.” 
Quackity narrowed his eyes as he was almost certain he caught a ‘all knows you need it’ under Charlie’s breath. He played it cool and simply snapped, “Hey, I don’t need no luck. Certainly not from you.” 
“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to offend.” Charlie held his hands up, grin still plastering his face. “Was just wishing you the best.” 
“Yeah... yeah,” Schlatt nodded, coming out of his state but still red-faced. Whether it was from embarrassment or lack of air Quackity couldn’t tell. He rolled his eyes again, smiling but waving goodbye without giving them a chance to drag him onto another conversation.
He stepped into the front, waiting patiently by the front of the door. Karl had said they’d meet him at the Vidrio, but should he wait inside or out? He paced, routinely adjusting his feathered headband and combing the actual feathers on his wings. He still worried he was overdressing a little but when he tried to lessen his look he panicked about underdressing. He wanted to look good for his boyfriends, a bit of makeup wouldn’t hurt that... would it? In the end, he’d settled on a simple pale blue dress, eyeliner, and a small headband. Nothing too gaudy but he still looked good. He looked good in everything, of course, he had absolutely nothing to worry about. So why was he all jittery? What, was he suddenly a dud? It didn’t matter. It was probably just because of the surprise factor. 
He’d assumed they would come and get outfits at his place (no offense to them, they just really couldn’t go the way they usually dressed) but Karl had insisted they pick him up like a “proper date.” He didn’t know what Karl knew about proper dates or when he’d started to care about them, most of their dates involved some form of running for their lives. Quackity wasn’t complaining but he’d be lying if he said the idea of just being a snuggle pup for a change wasn’t wildly appealing, especially if it meant getting to have Sapnap and Karl got to hang out in his world and not just flee and sneak. There were some nice things here he felt he never got to show them. 
He sunk into himself, suddenly feeling ashamed. It was bad manners, it was. Combining his work and love life to the point he may as well have made chumps out of his own boyfriends. He knew they didn’t mind, it was all new and fun for them and he was pretty sure Sapnap did the same thing. (He wasn’t entirely sure what his job was, like a knight sure but where was the line between work and just regular old Quarrian life?) Still. He should take them dancing more or something. Technically, that’s what he was doing here but he’d like to make a better habit of it, it really sounded like the bees- 
A bright, impossible, but familiar, swirl interrupted his thoughts. He straightened himself, quickly fixing his headband one last time. His heart was pounding out of his chest— but not because he was nervous, because he was excited. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling like a giddy sap as out from the portal stepped Karl and Sapnap. His breath was caught in his throat as he got a good look at them. He wasn’t sure what he expected, nothing bad, but he mentally made a note to give them an apology for being SO wrong. Whatever he’d imagined, they looked a million times better. 
Sapnap was in a white dress shirt. He had on a maroon vest and black tie he clearly didn’t know how to wear but wore well nonetheless. He had his hair slicked back, completely showing his pretty silvery, misty, eyes. Quackity noted the headband he usually wore in his hair was tied in a ribbon around his neck. Sapnap just couldn’t be without it, he warmly mused. 
Karl had on something with colors in patterns like Quackity had never seen before, not in his world at least, which— of course, it was Karl. Beautiful, strange, mysterious, adorable Karl. The top of the pantsuit was made of several pale shades of green. They washed over it like waves of seafoam, a strip of pale purple lace swirled around it, almost mimicking a deconstructed form of his usual crazy attire. A herringbone cap was pulled over his head, shaping brown curls. 
Quackity stared, absolutely gobsmacked, until his brain caught up to his eyes. Sapnap was saying something and waving his hand a little. Quackity blinked, shaking himself out of it. Egad, he was goofy for them. Luckily, Karl and Sapnap didn’t seem to mind his zoning out. In fact, Karl seemed to find it tickling, he clearly held in a giggle as Quackity snapped to. Quackity guessed this wasn’t the first time he’d found himself stunned. It certainly wouldn’t be the last either. 
“Hey, jackpot,” Sapnap gently flicked his forehead. “I asked how you think we look.”  
“You... good. You look good. Mmhmm,” he managed to squeak out, finally remembering to close his mouth. Slick. He was slick. 
“I’m glad you like it,” Karl chuckled. “I know you don’t really trust me to dress myself for nice places in Prowa.” 
“Hey, I never said I didn’t trust you!”
“You never said it, no.”
Quackity gave Karl a small punch in the shoulder. He flinched way more than was warranted, stumbling dramatically, but a broad smile settled on both their faces. 
“Aw, sugar! Did I hurt you?” 
“Yes!” 
“Hey, hey! Sir,” Sapnap stepped between them, also joking. “What is wrong with you, daring to assault my beloved in front of me?”  He threateningly toward over Quackity, grabbing his shoulders and backing him up against the wall. His eyes flickered with playful malice. He leaned in close, expression caught between a smirk and a snarl, completely aware of the growing blush on Quackity’s face. “I’ve half a mind to challenge you, and another half to crush you right here for your audacity.” 
“Aw, my knight in shining armor,” Karl sarcastically patted Sapnap’s shoulder, thoroughly less impressed by the display than Quackity. “Whatever would I do without you here to defend me from this sweet, cuddly, small, duckling?”
“Hey!” Quackity snapped defensively. “I could fuck you up if I-“ 
“Ey, Q! Have you seen-“ Schlatt stopped upon seeing the scene, turning on his heel and walking right back into the back. “Nevermind. Not my business. None of my business. Absolutely not my business…” 
“I-“ Sapnap dropped his boyfriend (who crumpled onto the floor in laughter), instantly turning a shade twelve times redder than Quackity had been. “I am so sorry.” 
“Ah- Schlatt?” Karl called over Quackity’s wheezing. “Schlatt, it’s fine-“
“NONE OF MY BUSINESS!” A shout came from the backroom. 
Quackity dropped his face into his hands, his chortling turned to full hysterics as he sat curled up against the wall. His dress, which he had been so unreasonable nervous about moments before, creased and probably picked up some grime from the floor. He didn’t care at all. Now that his boyfriends were actually beside him he could care less if he was painted green and orange. He had no one to impress, at least no one who would let anything bad happen over a stupid look. “Oh,” he snickered, the burst dying down. “Oh wow.” He wiped his eyes as jubilant tears stung, apathetic as he’d become he hoped his makeup didn’t run. It wasn’t necessary but he’d still like to look nice for the occasion. He pulled himself to his feet, brushing off his outfit and sighing. “Ah. He’s got a point though, really should be saving that for the party.”
“Speaking of which—“ Karl snapped his fingers in a jazzy rhythm. “Are we ready to go?” 
“Yes, let’s!” Sapnap turned with Karl as all three of them began to speed out the door.
Quackity made sure to bump in front of them before they made it out, he was not letting Karl anywhere near the wheel.  
The car ride was bright and lively although quiet. Quackity couldn’t help but grin just being next to these goons, one could practically feel Karl vibrating with excitement in the back, even Sapnap seemed to be enjoying the drive (he’d never quite gotten over the time Karl had offered to drive... Quackity could barely blame him for remaining he cautious and paranoid around automobiles). The blanched twilight hummed overhead as they made their way through the streets. It was relatively empty this time of night, too late for errands but just before everything started to swing. They pulled into the end of the road and all stepped out.
“It’s a bit of a walk the rest of the way,” Quackity explained. “Especially cause ‘s considered… ‘impolite’ to pull attention.” 
“Hmm…” Sapnap nodded, glancing behind them.
“What’s up?” Karl put a hand on his shoulder. 
“Nothing.” 
“You sure?” 
“It’s fine, I just-“ 
“Just what?” 
“Uh, maybewecouldgoseeSchlattandCharlie?”
“Huh?” Karl blinked. 
“Is… Schlatt and Charlie coming? Could we go get them?”
“N-no?” Quackity stammered, surprised to say the least. “This— uh- ain’t exactly the kind of party you bring your family to. Not ‘less they got dates of their own... and you know Charlie ain’t keen on that stuff.”
“Okay, well, maybe we could spend some time with them for a while at the casino? Before we commit here. The night is young!”
“I means, I’m pumped for your sudden urge to hang out with them and all, but I kind of wanted to spend time with the two of you.”
“Ah-“ Sapnap shrunk into himself. “Of course, I- me as well, I’m so sorry to imply otherwise. I was just thinking Charlie may like to hear about the slimes...” He trailed off, fiddling with the headband around his neck, just the slightest hint of panic on his face. He was very good at hiding it but Quackity and Karl knew him better than that. They shared a glance, this had nothing to do with Charlie. 
“Spice, are youse nervous?” 
“N-no!” 
“You sure? We don’t gots to do nothing you don’t wanna.” 
“Yeah, it’s just-“ 
“Chivalry and all that?” Karl chimed in, sympathetic. “I know our courting isn’t exactly conventional.” 
“No. Well, not exactly. Ah... think I’m merely... flustered?” 
“Flustered?” They spoke at once. 
He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… romance in my world is so different. Much more complicated. It involves a lot of the other’s family and specific sets or roles for meetings, it changes depending on how long you’ve been together and what kingdoms you hail from, so such and so forth. I’ve never been a martinet for the rules but, the way you describe these kinds of parties, I- I- find myself… lost.” 
Karl blinked. “So, you’re used to having a bunch of guidelines and, while you don’t miss them, are floundering without the stencil?” Sapnap nodded at the ground. He took a breath and shook his head, clearing his mind before bowing slightly. He held his left arm over his chest, middle knuckle up with his pinky and thumb slightly out, keeping the rest of his hand balled in a fist. Quackity recognized the symbol by now as something like a salute of the Nether kingdom. It was used to show respect while speaking. He stopped himself from rolling his eyes, remembering the formality was only habit. 
“I apologize for my trepidation,” Sapnap held a bashful tone. “I am just not used to courti-“ he paused, searching for the word, “dates being so… open. I don’t mean that as an insult to your world! I only-.” 
“Okay, buddy,” Quackity pushed Sapnap upright by his shoulders. He seemed confused but obliged. “I get it’s polite and nice for you but, if you really love me, please never do this again.” 
“Do... what?” 
“You have a habit of getting all formal when you’re worried you’re messing up with us.” Karl shrugged. 
“I do?” 
“I don’t know.” Quackity tapped his chin. “Let’s see.” Without warning, he grabbed Sapnap by the shoulders and takes him downward, planting a firm kiss right on his lips. He tensed a little as he felt a sudden wave of hotness wash over him (that was to be expected from surprising a demon) but stayed in the moment. As he pulled away, Sapnap blinked a few times, stunned although the faintest hint of a smile shone through. His gelled hair fell just a little messy.
“What the fuck, Quackity?” 
“There we go! Back to normal! You see the difference?”
“I- I guess so!” He nodded, a look of mild surprise mixing his comprehension as if he’d just realized what color his own eyes were. 
“Now, did youse like that?”
“Yes?”
“You want more?” 
“Yes...”
“You wanna go inside?” 
“Yeah.” Sapnap energetically nodded, slamming the car door shut, slicking back his hair again, and holding out his arms. “Yes, I do.”
Karl jumped between them, linking arms on his side before Quackity had the chance, and holding out his own instead. Quackity shot him a look but took it, joined by Sapnap in confusion at the sudden demand to be in the middle. Karl only smiled as they made their way down the street, nearly skipping at the attention until he lowly murmured, “So… do I get a kiss?” Quackity opened his mouth, smiling, but was cut off by Sapnap swiftly swooping in and planting one on Karl’s cheek.
“Oh- you-!” Quackity squawked, envy and agitation peaking his tone. “I was gonna-!” 
“Well, I did.” 
“Boys, boys, I do have two hands… and two cheeks,” Karl half-sang, leaning over to Quackity awaiting his kiss. 
“Oh, no. Fuck you. You’re gonna have to wait for it now,” Quackity pouted. Sapnap let out a taunting laugh as Karl gasped in mock offense. Well, probably mock. Regardless, Quackity only smirked and turned to face a door in the wall next to them. “Besides, we’re here!” He unlinked his arm, rattling out a little pattern into the door. It opened slowly, revealing a dapperly dressed serpentine blocking the view inside. He smiled wildly as the warm smells and colors hit him regardless, it had been a while since he’d been to one of these, long before he ever met them and certainly not while they were dating, but he missed them. 
He couldn’t wait to share this.
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aquagirl1978 · 3 years
Text
Soon - A Birthday Fanfic for @aliboo
A/N - This is a story I co-wrote with @violettduchess (who dreamt up this crazy plot) as a birthday gift for @aliboo. Hope you love this crazy lil fic! The artwork was created by me.
*************************
“Fairchild.”
“You.” The Captain’s voice is strained with barely contained annoyance. “You have some nerve, calling me like this.”
“You know why I must.”
His lip curls upwards in disgust. “What I know is your absence broke her heart to the point where I could not bear it. And now, when I have returned to heal her, you dare reach out. After all this time.”
The man on the other end of the screen remains quiet for a moment, the upper half of his face bathed in shadow. When he finally speaks, his voice is strained, threaded through with the heavy guilt of his actions. “You are not…..incorrect, Captain. My disappearance has its reasons, ones not even The Empire could torture out of me. But the consequence of it, what it did to her...it weighs heavily upon my thoughts.”
Blue eyes narrow. “You abandoned her.”
“I had no choice.”
“I find it difficult to believe a man with...talents such as yours could not have found another way." He pauses, shoulder lifting in a shrug. "But it makes no difference. I have returned and she has a reason to smile again. That is what matters.”
The man on the other side of the screen leans forward, the three scars on his cheek illuminated by the soft blue glow of his terminals. “My exile may not be complete, Captain, but make no mistake: my time will come and with it, her love and allegiance once more.”
A laugh, short and edged in contempt, escapes him. “A man may speak pretty words, Doctor, but it is his actions that define him. We shall see if you ever show that face of yours again.”
A leather gloved hand slams down onto the terminal, emotion breaking through his cool wall of indifference. “I carved her name into the moon!”
“A lovely token, I’m sure. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.”
A faint murmur of “But she is my muse!” is heard in the background before the screen goes black.
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Placing the tablet down on his dresser, Antares turns on his heel and strides over to his aquarium. “Hmph,” he mutters, his voice soaked in disappointment. “Way to treat your muse…”
“I know she missed you very much, Shock Sock.” Antares carefully shakes some fish food into the aquarium. “She will be very happy to see you, too. And hopefully me as well.” Antares lips curve into his signature smirk. He knows that he too broke her heart when he left. But at least he had the decency to say a proper goodbye when he left. Unlike Mr. I-carved-her-name-in-the-moon over there, lurking in the shadows like the weak coward he is.
When Antares discovered what had happened, how Vile abandoned her like a child discarding a once loved toy, he knew he had to return. There was no way he could leave her heartbroken like that. Determined to reclaim the love they once shared, he knew there was only one thing he could do – he was going to return to her and win her heart back.
A knock at the door snaps Antares out of his reverie. “Enter.”
Corvus cautiously enters the room. “Wanted to let you know we are approaching the spaceport and will be landing in a few minutes.”
Antares nods stiffly. “Very well.”
“Sir…are you ready for this?”
Antares’ eyes meet Corvus’. Corvus was there for everything the first time; he’s fully aware that this mission means everything to Antares. And how failure is an unacceptable outcome. Antares swallows the growing lump in his throat; uncertainty is no longer an option. “Yes.”
He removes his visor, trading it for his helmet, and places it on his head. Any traces of hesitation seep out of his body, as he is fully transformed into the confident captain he needs to be. Now he is prepared and ready.
With his beam saber in hand, Antares follows Corvus to disembark the ship, his cape billowing behind him.
Meanwhile, in other parts of the galaxy...
Dr. Vile is hunched over his desk, a single, solitary desk lamp illuminating his workspace. "How dare he! Hanging up on me like that!" Using his screwdriver, he tightens the final part into place.
"I'll show him," he mutters to himself, his voice dripping with contempt. Grabbing his paintbrush, he carefully paints a small eggplant on the top of the drone. This way, she will know it's from him. And hopefully also bring a smile to her face and remind her of their good times together in the past.
Placing the paintbrush back in the caddy, Vile admires his handiwork. It took longer than he had anticipated, but it was all worth it. Everything needed to be perfect for her. She needs to know he did not mean to abandon her, as Captain Fairchild had accused him of doing.
Holding the drone out in one hand, Vile presses a button with his other, engaging the drone to start on its course to his muse. Vile waves to the drone. "Tell her I miss her...."
"And that I'm coming for her."
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taexual · 4 years
Text
BTS Mafia AU / Their S/O tries to leave them
WARNING: strong language, angst, tough!bts they just want to be loved
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JIN
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You thought you knew Seokjin well enough to find a way to de-escalate the situation if he learned that you’d been thinking of leaving, but the fact that he had just caught you, suitcases in hands, in the middle of the night, complicated everything.
“Uh…” he started, hesitant. You’d never seen him struggle to understand something that was so obvious before.
“I thought you were asleep,” you spoke, hoping to alleviate his confusion but making it worse as you saw him wince.
You lowered your eyes immediately as if that was going to protect you from the hurt on his face.
“And that’s why you thought now was a good time to leave me?” he asked.
You could have said you weren’t leaving him but he could obviously see the bags in your hands – undoubtedly filled with everything that you owned – so you had to go for a different excuse.
“I don’t think there is a good time to… leave,” you said, stumbling a bit as you hoped you wouldn’t have to make this personal. You didn’t want to leave him. You wanted to leave this. This life that he’d shown you. This house, full of so many weapons that had killed so many people. “I didn’t want you to catch me like this.”
“Well, then you should have remembered the security alarm,” Seokjin almost scoffed as he took several steps closer to you. You didn’t know what to expect and you didn’t dare to look up at him. “I got a notification on my phone as soon as you unlocked the door.”
You hadn’t realized he was getting notified whenever people came in and out of the house but, admittedly, you probably should have guessed this.
“I’m—”
“Don’t bother,” he snapped, cutting you off. Then, before you could recover from the coldness of his voice, he grabbed the bags from your hands and walked back inside, crossing the hallway towards the staircase and not turning to glance at you as he said, “save your words until the morning. If you’re going to be leaving me, you’ll have to look me in the eyes as you do it.”
SUGA
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Yoongi had been so busy with his work – constructing an operation that was meant to take down his long-time rival, who wasn’t much of a rival in the literal sense of the word, but Yoongi didn’t want to admit that he still held a grudge for when this guy attempted to shoot him seven years ago – that it took him three full days to realize that your shared bedroom had been untouched for quite a while now.
“Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt,” he addressed one of the maids, tidying up the eternally empty and yet always so dusty guest room across the hall, “but when was the last time you’d seen my fiancée?”
The maid blushed so furiously, she nearly turned into a whole different species. “I’m afraid I don’t remember, s-sir.”
“I see,” Yoongi clenched his jaw, never one to make a scene in front of the people who worked for him. “Carry on, please.”
But his polite façade evaporated as soon as he was left alone. He couldn’t understand it – he’d been texting you. Leaving you voice messages. How could he have gone so long without realizing that you weren’t just busy – you were ignoring him. You were deliberately distancing yourself away from him.
He found himself by the door of your parents’ house before he realized that he was on his way over. Calling you had been fruitless – your phone was off. Asking your friends was fruitless, too – he didn’t know any of them. And so he was here, knocking on the door of the house that he’d never been inside of before. That he’d never even seen before.
Hell, before the door opened and he saw you, looking so different – and so distraught – even though it couldn’t have been more than a week since he’d seen you last, Yoongi wasn’t sure if this was even the right house or if his intel had been wrong.
But you were here. And you wished he wasn’t.
“Yoongi,” you said, “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Well. I wasn’t expecting you to leave me,” he countered dryly, “but I guess we both love surprising each other, hmm? Do you mind if I come in?”
“I don’t, but—”
“Good. We have some things we should discuss,” he said, walking past you into the house and turning around to face you without bothering to look at the decor.
He wasn’t trying to intimidate you with his piercing gaze – probably not – but you still felt the need to defend yourself.
“Very well,” you said, closing the door and crossing your arms over your chest. “Maybe we can start with you explaining how you found out where I was.”
“Or maybe,” Yoongi opposed, closing the distance between you by taking a calculated step closer, “we can start with you explaining why I had to look for you in the first place.”
“You didn’t.”
He scoffed. “I did. You don’t get to leave me without an explanation. Not with a month left to our wedding. Not ever. So, go on, then. Tell me the reason why you felt the need to run away. And pack your bags while you do it because I’m taking you home.”
J-HOPE
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“Do you have plans for tomorrow night?” Hoseok asked. His shoulder was still pressing his phone to his ear, so, for the first few seconds, you didn’t realize he was talking to you.
“Oh. No,” you answered then. “Why?”
“Hold on,” he replied and then said into the phone, “you must have been wrong. I’ll call you later.”
You frowned and, prompted by the confusion on your features, Hoseok explained, sighing in relief, “I got a call that you’d purchased plane tickets for tomorrow. To Spain. Leaving at 7 PM.”
A hot wave washed over you as you felt your eyes automatically seek out the suitcase you’d hidden behind the clothes you’d decided to leave behind in your closet.
“That’s—”
Hoseok – who interrogated sneaky, lying sons of bitches for a living – could immediately tell that something was wrong. Not from the way your eyes left his as soon as he brought the plane tickets up, but from the way your expression was quick to turn into an unreadable wall. A wall that he’d seen before whenever you didn’t want to talk to him about something. A wall that he’d thought he’d burned down a long time ago.
“You did purchase those tickets,” he said, sounding more like he was making an observation rather than expressing his disappointment in your secrecy. “Why?”
“I just—I-I need a break,” you said, finding the words with surprising ease. You thought you’d never be able to articulate your need to get away.
“From me?” Hoseok asked, still using his official voice with you but looking a lot more surprised now.
“From everything,” you explained, not particularly smoothly, “I’m really tired of always being in the middle of—always waiting for you to come home and—just… I’m tired.”
He nodded – you thought you’d imagined it – and then, allowing the first hints of disappointment to creep in, he asked, “why didn’t you tell me?”
You swallowed. “Because I wasn’t sure when I was going to come back.”
“When,” he asked, “or if?”
You didn’t say anything – and that answered his question.
Nodding again before he left your room, Hoseok didn’t try to stop you. Not right now.
You needed a break. He understood and respected that. He wasn’t going to stand in the way of you spending some time away from all of this. Away from him.
But, clenching his fists as he walked down the stairs and into the garage, he was going to make sure you came back. He was going to make sure you wanted to come back.
RM
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Namjoon had been watching you discreetly pack all of your belongings into a duffel bag for the past fifteen minutes. He wasn’t stupid, he didn’t need to enter your shared bedroom and ask you what you were doing. He knew exactly what.
You were leaving him.
So – when you exhaled slowly, double-checked if you’d packed your wallet and keys, and exited the bedroom, not turning the light in the hallway and therefore, getting startled when you heard him clear his throat – all that Namjoon did, was ask you, “why?”
“Namjoon. H-how long have you been standing there?” you countered, not really wanting to know but needing a second to recover from the fright. You weren’t aware that he’d come home; he’d told you he would be gone the whole weekend.
“Long enough,” he replied. He chose not to turn the light on, either, so you couldn’t see him and his voice wasn’t giving much away. Namjoon had always been good at hiding all emotions from his voice. “Were you going to call me? Or leave a note?”
“I was—” you started to say but, the truth was, you weren’t. You were just going to leave. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be,” he said. The shape of his silhouette indicated that he was leaning against the wall on the far end of the hall, his face turned away from you. “I just want to know why.”
“I-I want to spend some time away from—”
“No. Not why you’re leaving,” he interrupted, “I’m sure you have more than one reason to leave me. That’s fine. I don’t need to know that. What I need to know is why you’re leaving without telling me.”
“Because I don’t—I knew you’d try to stop me,” you said. “And I would let you. I always let you.”
“Is that what you think of me? That I make you do things you don’t want?”
You shook your head but he couldn’t see it because he was still not looking at you. He couldn’t see the tears in your eyes, either.
“No,” you said, your voice about as steady as your heartbeat. “You make me forget what I want.”
“I thought you wanted me.”
“I do. I do want you,” you said. He wondered who you were trying to convince – him or yourself? “But I… I don’t want all that comes with you. I don’t want this. Any of this.”
You were brutally honest – for the first time since he’d met you – and you didn’t even specify what this was but you didn’t need to. Namjoon understood. He nodded.
And then he waited.
“Y-you’re not going to convince me to stay?” you asked, frozen in the same spot because this was so unlike him, you suddenly weren’t sure if this was really the same Namjoon who’d grabbed your hand every time you tried to walk away from him before you finished an argument.
“No,” he replied, finally pushing himself off of the wall and starting to descend down the stairs. He didn’t turn to look at you because he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep on living if the last image of you in his mind was your distorted silhouette with a bag in your hands as you got ready to walk out of his life. “If you wanted to stay, you’d stay.”
JIMIN
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Under normal circumstances, Jimin respected your privacy and chose to confront you if he was confused about something. But these circumstances were decidedly not normal – you were gone. All of your things were gone with you. Your phone was off. He hadn’t heard from you in three days.
And that was why he was now sitting on his bed – your bed – with his laptop on his knees as he tracked your credit card payments and made calls. He found your presumed location before he could feel guilty about doing this.
And he got into his car, drove out of the garage, nearly ran over his gardener, and reached the highway before he could reconsider. Before he could stop and think that maybe there was a reason why you disappeared without saying anything. Without giving him a sign. A warning.
These thoughts came later, about fifteen minutes into his journey towards the motel where you’d been staying, and, by the time he was outside of your door – after bribing the manager – these thoughts were already halfway done with suffocating him.
Jimin really needed you to tell him that you were just visiting someone – a sick relative who’d decided to spend his final days in a questionable roadside motel. He really needed you to tell him that you hadn’t run away. That you hadn’t left him.
But when he knocked on the door and you didn’t open – even though he saw you peek outside through the gap in the curtains – he knew that was just wishful thinking. You had run away. You had left him.
“Listen to me,” he spoke, leaning his palms on the door as he pushed against the sturdy frame, “I could find my way inside, you know I could. But I won’t because, clearly, you don’t want me to. I’m not going to leave you here alone, however. I’m going to stay right here.”
A very soft whisper reached him from inside of the room. If he hadn’t been standing so close to the door, he probably wouldn’t have heard it.
“Jimin, please…” you were saying. “Go home.”
“I won’t,” he replied firmly. “I’m not going to let you stay in a place like this all by yourself. I will stay here with you until you feel ready to look at me and tell me why you’re here. Why we’re both here.”
“Jimin—” you tried again but he wasn’t listening anymore as he lowered himself against the wall of the motel and sat down on the cement floor outside of your room.
“And then I will take you home,” he decided, “I will take you wherever you think your home is. Even if it’s not with me.”
V
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Taehyung finished a job a few hours later than he’d planned and had, therefore, found it necessary to stop by the florist’s – who nearly had a stroke when he saw the handle of a revolver sticking out of Taehyung’s coat pocket – to pick up a bouquet for you. You two were supposed to have dinner tonight and he was, clearly, running late; flowers were his way of making up to you.
A pleasant smell of food reached him as soon as he walked through the door of your shared house. It would have surprised him – you’d planned to have dinner at seven and it was now nearing midnight; all smell of food was supposed to have dissipated by now – but he was too relieved that you’d waited for him to think about anything else.
The dinner table looked beautiful. You had really outdone yourself with all of this cooking and Taehyung stopped to take his coat off, before calling out cheerfully, “I’m home! If I had known you were preparing a feast like this, I swear I would have dropped everything and—”
Words got caught in his throat when he noticed a folded piece of paper on the chair where you usually sat. Frowning, he put the bouquet of flowers on the table before leaning down to pick up the note.
“What’s this?” he called out again even though his heart had already started to pound in his chest, realizing what was inside of the note before he’d even opened it.
“I’m sorry,” your clumsy handwriting said, “I love you but I can’t stand another night of listening to distant gunshots and hoping it isn’t you who just died. Please take care of yourself.”
“No,” Taehyung said, crumbling up the note and almost laughing to himself, “no. You hear me?!” he was yelling but the echo of his voice was the only thing that replied to him.
Cursing loudly when he tried calling you only to hear the robotic announcement about your phone being off, Taehyung climbed the stairs, three at a time, to check the bedroom even though he already knew he’d find it empty.
“Fuck!” he groaned, throwing the door shut so hard, it rattled painfully against the hinges.
Not pausing to clear his head or think of a plan of action, he ran back down the stairs and towards his car. It was a chilly autumn evening but he couldn’t feel the wind as he entered the vehicle, only one destination in his mind – you, wherever you were.
JUNGKOOK
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You spent a yet another Saturday night in the bathroom of your house, tending to the wounds on Jungkook’s face that he refused to go to the hospital for. You had no medical education and yet he wasn’t bothered by the stinging pain you sometimes brought him when you accidentally brushed your fingertips right over his bruises – in fact, he didn’t even come to you to get you to fix his face. He just came.
“I missed you,” he would say as a way of explanation but the sight of his beaten up features would drown out his words.
“Again?” you would ask, nodding at the fresh cuts and bruises. “Aren’t you tired of this?”
He’d never reply. He’d obediently follow you into your bathroom, allow you to sit him down on the closed lid of your toilet, and then he’d wait until you got the first-aid kit. He’d watch you clean his wounds in a way that you’d already memorized. He’d close his eyes at the feeling your soft touch as you carefully glued bandages on his face.
And he would say, “thank you,” before leaning in to kiss you. Before standing up to leave. Before coming back here again, next Saturday, bloody and in pain and missing you.
“I can’t do this anymore,” you felt yourself say, your words breathy and uncertain.
You had just used the last adhesive in the kit to take care of the cuts on his face when you spoke up, and Jungkook thought you were referring to your medical supplies.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “I can buy you—”
You shook your head. “No, I don’t—I-I can’t see you like this anymore. I can’t. I don’t want to. Please, just—please.”
“W-what are you asking me?”
“I’m asking you not to put yourself through this anymore,” you said, your hands wrapped around your sides as you spoke, “not to do the things that end up hurting you like this.”
Jungkook swallowed with difficulty before saying, “I… it’s what I do, though. It’s my job. You can’t ask me that.”
“Then I’m asking you to stop coming here,” you replied, looking down at the floortiles because it felt like you were saying goodbye and you lost your ability to think – to speak – every time you looked into his alarmed eyes. “I’m asking you to forget about me.”
Jungkook stood up – so quickly that he felt dizzy for a second – and reached for you but you pulled away. “Hey, where—”
“I’m asking you to leave,” you cut him off, pleading. “Or let me leave.”
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thewistlingbadger · 3 years
Text
Here's my review on the deh movie (spoilers ahead.)
In my honest opinion, the best words that i have to describe how i feel about the movie is that it is better than the in the heights movie. And i say that as someone who has always hated deh and my favorite musical ever is in the heights. The movie isn't perfect but, dare i say i enjoyed it.
I expected it to be super bad because of the white washing, the bad reviews, the story, and Ben Platt existing. And I'm not excusing any of those things (i pirated the movie I'll put the link at the bottom of this post) but I was pleasantly surprised. When you do an adaptation, you're supposed to improve the story to the best of your ability and i think that's what they did here. It wasn't all good though so let me go through the bad.
The bad:
Ben Platt??? Hello??? Honey, we know you can sing. You've got good albums and your performance in the obc was good, so what's going on here? It's such a rare occurrence to get someone from the obc into the movie, AS THE SAME ROLE! Not to mention he was talking so much shit beforehand talk about "I'm the best for the role" this that and the other, so why he didn't put his everything into the movie? It was mainly in the first half of the movie for some reason he was like "let me sing real soft".
As for the thing about his age, it's really not that noticeable imo. I think the hair isn't doing him justice. The hair aged him 60 years for some reason. Tbh i have no opinion on the hair, makeup, and costumes throughout the whole movie. They weren't great, they were boring. There weren't anything really.
... except for Connor Murphy. His design was HORRIBLE! Instead of putting him in all black like how he is in the obc, they decided to go with dark blue? He was wearing like a dark blue blazer, a dark t-shirt, and dark jeans. Like honey what? The fact that he had such a straight boy haircut but then his finger nails were painted black and he had a ring was just. smh.
The acting of everyone in general wasn't good either. Which is weird, because i know these people are good actors 🤔 so what gives? Especially Connor Murphy's acting. It was really bad lol
Waving through a window. There's a lot to unpack here. 1. THEY HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO ACTUALLY GIVE DEAR EVAN HANSEN IN OPENING NUMBER AND THEY STILL DIDN'T DO IT. LIKE REALLY? Does anybody have a map was NEVER AN ACTUAL OPENING NUMBER! An opening number is supposed to set up the plot. It's supposed to introduce us to the setting and the characters. Anybody have a map didn't do that and NEITHER DOES waving through a window. Starting the movie with waving through a window doesn't make sense really. Originally, waving through a window happens after Evan has been pushed. It's really dramatic and super cool. It makes sense that it would be there in the story versus starting the movie off like that. SHOW! DON'T! TELL! Originally you show us why Evan is the way he is but in the movie you just tell us that he's really nervous. It's not deserved. Ben Platt is singing super quietly throughout the whole song and when the ensemble is singing they don't look like they're singing. This had me confused throughout the whole entire movie. If people were aware of Evan singing or if they weren't. (This is why having an opening number is so important! You set up the world!) Not to mention that they do that modern shit. They tried to put a modern spin on waving through window just like how there's a modern spin on all the songs in the heights movie. (I hate that shit it sounds horrible.)
The movie felt too serious? There weren't many jokes. Like the opening of the musical is supposed to be a joke but in the movie they don't write it as a joke. (You can also tell how desperately they're trying to cover how old Platt is by just showing his eyes lol.)
Why is Larry the stepdad. I made this complaint when it was revealed to us and it's still a valid one. It didn't further the plot, AT ALL! IT HAD LITERALLY NO EFFECT!
I feel like everyone in this movie should have been gay. Everyone felt gay. Alana with her outfits, Zoe cuffing her jeans, jarred actually being gay and Ben platt's gayness shined though in his performance. And of course, there's Connor.
I think they should have been more dramatic. I'm supposed to believe that Evan is poor but he he lives in a two story house. (I'm not saying poor people can't live in a 2 story house lol I'm just saying). Evan's room in the movie is bigger than mine for Christ sakes. Put the Murphy's in a MC mansion or something ya know? Make there house bigger.
I hate hate HATE how they put an instrumental of good for you and anybody have a map at the beginning of the movie. I hated it when they did that shit in the ith movie, and nothing has changed. It's the worst way to tease a fan, ever.
What I liked:
The movie was different from the musical...but in a good way. I don't hate the changes they made to the original story. To me it feels like it's a whole different vibe. The musical has always been about Evan but I just feel like in the movie they focus more on him. You're not having Jared or Connor getting shoved on your throat every 5 seconds. The original made me feel icky because you were constantly being reminded of how shitty Evan is (as you should) but it wasn't enjoyable. We're raised from a young age to know what's wrong and what's right. And imo, I can never enjoy a piece of media where the story you know something is bad the whole way through. (Uncharted 4 for example). You have to have duality. You have to have a perfect balance of it feeling wrong and right at the same time. And that's how the movie felt for me. The movie was very well made. Cutting the songs that they cut really made all the world of a difference. Imo i really helped (and that's saying something because i LOVE disappear and to break in a glove.) The new songs are good. I significantly like Alana's character more. She came off as annoying in the original but now she's more genuine imo. I absolutely LOVE how they went really slow with the romance between Evan and Zoe. I don't think they even kiss in the movie (which is GREAT! WE STAN NOT MAKING OUT ON YOUR DEAD BROTHER'S BED!) But at the end of if i can tell her we can see Zoe leaning in for a kiss. I liked how they added that. Speaking of things they added, THE ENDING! 👏👏👏 YES SIR. AS THEY SHOULD. It was so cool to see that because one of the main criticisms when it comes to dear Evan Hansen is the fact that he faces no consequences. So for the creators of dear Evan Hansen to take that criticism and actually apply it to the adaptation, is so insanely cool. (It's bare minimum but I've never seen anyone do it before) it's such a better ending to see Evan take responsibility, and to improve as a person. (It was cool to see some elements of the book brought into the movie but at the same time. Where Miguel. Make Connor gay!)
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Till the sun Dies Aragorn x plus size!reader
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Aragorn sighed, watching the people before him dance. If one more princess or duchess asked him to dance, he was sure to stab someone with the blade that was always strapped to his side. He hated this side to ruling, he was much better out on the battlefield than in a ballroom. This was due to Elrond’s insistence to “Find a queen”. The elf was very insistent to a point of offering Arwen’s hand to prove the point but Aragorn declined. If he was to find a queen it would not be to someone who practically raised him or an arranged marriage, he insisted to have it happen with someone he loved. 
Only problem? Aragorn was not in love with anyone and Elrond was so damn pushy, Aragorn threw a party. So now he was in a room with stifling rich women who wanted to marry him. Aragorn just sat on his throne looking very annoyed with this entire ordeal. “excuse me, your highness?” A voice asked. He looked over, keeping the annoyed face making the servant jump back slightly. “Would.. You like more wine sire?” the girl asked. “...Yes. please the one from last week was nice.” He said. She gulped. “The...Cook said it does not go with the dish sire. He wouldn’t allow it.” She said. Aragorn rose a brow. “Then bring me something very strong.” He said. The servant still didn’t move. “...Lord Elrond forbid us from serving anything like that and...” She seemed to shake. “Katerina, it is only me. Tell me the rest.” Aragorn said softer. “It- it’s not you I’m afraid of sire its the chef.” She muttered. “He’s that bad?” Aragorn asked. “He’s terrifying!” she yelped. Aragorn blinked, leaning off of the throne.
 “Take me to him.” He said. “What?” Katerina asked. “Staff within these walls should not be afraid of one another. Take me to this man.” Aragorn said. She walked off with him, walking through the halls to the kitchen. 
“ARE YOU STUPID? DO YOU NOT COMPREHEND WHAT I HAVE JUST TOLD YOU!?” A voice yelled. You looked over at the poor boy who was at the end of the yelling. “No-no sir I understood but we don’t have--” “THEN. GO. OUT. AND. BUY. IT.” The chef said. You continued cutting potatoes, silent as you looked at Katerina who was shaking in the doorway next to a figure. You dropped your potato before you could see a face, it rolling and hitting the person’s boot. They leaned down, picking it up. “Thank you-” You looked up, gulping. “Sire.” you breathed. Aragorn paused, looking in your eyes. 
By the Valar... You were beautiful. Your eyes, your hair- everything was gorgeous. “Oy, fat oaf. Over here, now.” The chef said. You turned around, looking at him. “the king is here sir.” you said, voice shaking slightly. Gods, your voice was nice to hear as well. “What did you just call this woman?” Aragorn asked. “Sire it’s fine-” “No, it is not.” Aragorn said, walking forward. “If I hear talks of you screaming at any of the staff within these walls, I will personally remove you. Am I clear?” Aragorn asked. Katerina leaned over whispering in your ear. “He looks great doing that, doesn’t he?” She said. You looked at Aragorn, his face stern but his eyes gentle. “...Don’t be ridiculous, that is our king.” you muttered, looking down. You expected Gavin (The chef) to back down, after all the king had told him to stop. 
Instead the man pointed a wooden spoon to him. “You eat my food, which you all seem to enjoy and you tell me how to operate MY KITCHEN!?” He snapped. You all backed away from the two men. Aragorn looked down at the wooden spoon. “Sorry, would you like to be personally booted from the premises or would you like a guard to handle it?” Aragorn asked. “You do not remove anyone!” Gavin huffed, still waving the spoon. Aragorn gripped it, snapping the spoon from its small hilt. “Try waving it now, I think you could so magic if you wave hard enough.” Aragorn said. You resisted a snort. “I QUIT!” Gavin screamed. “Goodbye.” Aragorn said as the man shoved passed him. 
“Now... Who else here cooks?” Aragorn asked. No show of hands. “...None of you cook?” He asked. “He wouldn’t allow us to actually cook. We more.. Cut things and cleaned.” A servant answered. “Allow me to rephrase this... Who here can cook?” He asked. Katerina pointed to you. “Kat!” you said, pulling her hand down. “She can cook sire, I’ve eaten food in her home... It’s quite tasty!” She said. “...I trust your judgement, what is your name?” Aragorn asked. “Y/n.” you answered. “Great. You’re in charge of the kitchens as chef.” He said. “I’m what--” “Now as the chef, I ask that you point the direction of the ale.” He said. “...I wish I could sire but sir Elrond locked the cabinet the barrels are in.” you admitted. Aragorn grit his teeth. “That thorough little shit.” he huffed. 
A man handed him a flask. “Kept it because Gavin’s voice got tiring enough.” The stable boy said. “You are a friend to all tonight.” The king said, downing the entire flask in one go. “Thank you.” Aragorn said, walking out. “...Did the King just empty your flask?” A man asked. “...Yes he did.” The stable boy nodded.
the night ended after three more hours, Aragorn not even getting a buzz. Damn his increased tolerance for alcohol. He did feel terrible though from all the drinking, him going to the kitchens late in the night. He walked in, running his hand over his beard as he sat on a stool before hearing a thud. “Ow- By the nine worlds- how many damn apples did Gavin shove in here!?” You asked as another one pelted your head. You sighed, brushing your apron before seeing the king. You bowed, him holding his hand up as if to indicate a “Stop.” You immediately rose. “Tis very late for you to be here Lady Y/n.” He said. “I.. Well this new promotion has me very confused. Gavin would only let us go to certain areas of the kitchen, I’m trying to be well acquainted with it.” You admitted. “And you discovered the cabinet of fruit?” he asked, noticing the mess of apples on the floor. “No sir... Just apples.” You answered. Aragorn rose a brow, walking over to the cabinet.
You weren’t joking. There had to have been at least four hundred apples shoved in the cabinet. “...How in the hell was that even possible?” He asked. “I have no idea...” you admitted. He looked over at you, raising a brow. “How long have you worked here?” He asked. “...My whole life.” You answered. He nodded. “I started as a servant girl. More of a maid for Denethor.” You explained. “What landed you in here?” Aragorn asked. “I eventually became more of an errand girl... Which Denethor tended to eat a lot of food. Until eventually I came to the kitchen so often I ended up working here.” You said. Aragorn nodded. “Why don’t you go home? It is late and you need the rest.” Aragorn said. You shuffled a little. “I do not dare to walk through the woods at night sire.” you said. He rose a brow. “You live in the woods?” he asked. “Yes sire, in a cottage.” you said. 
He looked at you up and down. “Do you have a place to stay for the night?” He asked. “I tend to sleep in the stables on late nights.” you said. He frowned. “No lady should sleep in a stable.” He said. “Sire, I’m not a lady I’m a servant.” you corrected. “Any woman, even if a servant, is a lady in my eyes.” he said. You said nothing, looking down. “did you come here for something sire?” you asked. “Oh... Water.” he answered. You nodded, walking away. “I can get it myself-” “Sire it is my job.” you said. “Are you always this insistent?” he asked. “I...” you sighed. “I need to keep my hands busy sire. When I don’t I tend to bother myself with dreadful thoughts.” you muttered. He nodded. “I understand how that feels.” He muttered. “You do?” You asked. “I have witnessed a lot of gruesome things outside and within these walls... They tend to really haunt the mind.” He explained. You nodded with a sad look in your eyes.
You said nothing more, drawing water from a bucket and putting it into a cup. Aragorn took it, looking at you. “Y/n..” He said. You turned around confused. “Did Denethor treat you well?” He asked. You looked down. “Sire, you are the first of royalty to treat me with kindness outside of Faramir and..” you swallowed. It registered who else walked these halls. “You knew Boromir?” He asked. “Yes.” you said, a reminiscing smile on your lips. “Faramir and Boromir were almost like brothers to me.” You said. Aragorn nodded. “Boromir was a good man.” He said. “He was kind to me... Meanwhile Denethor usually called me..” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “A oafish pig.” you said. Aragorn really didn’t like hearing this. 
“Y/n, you are by no means ‘oafish’ or a ‘pig’.” Aragorn said. You looked at him with a confused look. “Why do you do that?” you asked. “Do what?” he asked. “You’re being unusually nice to me. I am just a servant, nothing more.” You said. “Every person deserves to be treated with respect until proven otherwise.” Aragorn said simply. “But-” “Y/n, are you usually this reluctant to people?” He asked. “...Yes.” you said. He chuckled. “I should go.” You muttered. “Right! I suspect you know where the guest chambers are?” He asked. “...Sire, those are occupied.” you said. “...By whom?” he asked. “Lord Faramir.” You said, leaving out the second guest. “I see... Which probably means Eowyn is with him.” Aragorn nodded. You blinked. “You... Are aware of the relationship?” You asked. “Of course I am, I introduced them.” He said. You blinked. “You did?” You asked. 
“Oh yes. I’m rather good with other peoples love lives.” He said. You noticed how he worded that. “But not your own?” you asked, without thinking. He blinked a couple of times, you retreating back. “I didn’t- I am so sorry--” he laughed. “No my own love life is... Well it’s messy.” He chuckled. You sighed with relief. “What of you lady Y/n?” He asked. “My love life is nonexistent.” you said, looking slightly disappointed by your own answer. “Really?” He asked, looking at you. You were a beautiful maiden, it surprised him that you never had any love interest. “When you look like this no one really...” you sighed. “Y/n, you’re beautiful, what are you talking about?” Aragorn asked without thinking. 
You swallowed, looking at the man. “Do you not think yourself to be a fair maiden?” He asked. You shook your head. “I... My whole life I’ve been told otherwise.” you admitted. “Y/n...” Aragorn seemed saddened by your answer. You cleared your throat. “you... Y/n, you can sleep in my quarters tonight.” He said. You blinked. “What?” You asked. “You can sleep--” “sire I couldn’t--” “Y/n, I will sleep in a chair-” “Sire no! I should be the one to sleep in a chair!” “So you’ll do it then! Great.” He nodded. “Wait I didn’t mean- Sire!”
Thus leading to you standing in the man’s quarters as he stood behind a partition changing. You looked around at the walls, them being of stone. Then you saw a sword on the mantle of the fireplace. You had heard the tale of  Andúril. How it broke off in the first battle for the ring when Isildur owned it. Now it was rebuilt, on display in front of you. 
“Do you like blades Lady Y/n?” Aragorn asked, standing behind you. You jumped, swallowing hard. “I am... More of a bow woman. Easier to hunt with for me.” you said. He rose a brow. “You enjoy hunting?” He asked. “Yes sire. It calms my nerves.” You said. “I take it you have the proper protection when you hunt in the forest?” He asked. You shrugged. “I make it actually.” you admitted. “You make armor?” He asked. You flushed with embarrassment. “I have to...” you muttered. “Why?” He asked. You shifted and he rose a brow. “...no one really makes it in my size.” you muttered. He blinked. “Armor is typically catered to those of...” you cleared your throat. “Of a thinner figure than mine.” you said, right now feeling uncomfortable. He looked at you. “Why are you embarrassed to have such an impressive skill?” He asked. “I’m embarrassed because of the reason I’ve gained the skill.” you said. He hated seeing you tear yourself down like that. “You’re an impressive woman Y/n, make no mistake.” He said. You looked up at him. “...thank you sire.” You said softly.
you slept in a chair, a blanket over you as you did. It must’ve been before sunrise when you heard Aragorn’s mutters. You opened your eyes, adjusting to the lack of light when you saw him. “No... NO!” he yelled, leaning up. You sat up, confused. He clutched his chest, panting like a madman. “Sire?” You asked, your voice soft. He looked over, sighing. “I woke you. I’m sorry.” He muttered. You got up, kneeling beside his bed. “You didn’t wake me.” You assured. In a half asleep state, he leaned onto you, his head landing on your shoulder. You jumped slightly. “I could hear them screaming...” Aragorn muttered. “Who?” You asked softly. “The men...From... Helm’s Deep..” He muttered, you feeling tears fall. You subconsciously started stroking his head gently. “I let them die.” He whimpered. “You saved us all... In more ways than one...” you said softly. He clung to you, your heart pounding. “Please... Stay with me.” He whispered. Your arms slowly wrapped around him. “I’m not leaving sire...” You said softly. 
The morning sun was creeping and Aragorn woke up, his arms cuddling something. He figured, from the way he usually slept it was a pillow. But then he noticed when he moved his hand it felt like hair. Wait... He leaned up to see you sleeping next to him. He paused, trying to remember what happened. He recalled awaking in the night, he remembered waking you.... What was he... Oh
You soothed him back to sleep. He asked you to stay. He wondered how he should go about this? Should he wake you? You were up pretty late and honestly it’d be rude to wake you just so you’d leave. Should he not move? Well that wouldn’t work, he had a meeting with Elrond today. Should he just go? Maybe he should leave a note so you wouldn’t be completely confused. That seemed logical... Right? OH FOR VALAR’S SAKE YOU WERE A SERVANT. NOT A LOVER, THIS SHOULDN’T BE THAT HARD.
You let out a small groan before leaning up. He didn’t move and you gasped, realizing that he was looking dead at you. You yanked back, falling off the bed and alarming Aragorn in the process. “I AM SO SORRY YOUR HIGHNESS!” You yelped, moving back and hitting the dresser behind you. “Y/n! It’s fine, I should apologize for making you sleep here with me!” He said. “N-no I shouldn’t have even been here-- Oh by the nine-- WHAT TIME IS IT!?” You asked. “Y/n... You’re the head of the kitchens now, you make the times for your own job.” He reminded. “NO LORD ELROND SPECIFICALLY WANTED ME AWAKE AT SUNRISE! SHIT!” You said, putting on your shoes and hopping around on one foot as you tried to put the other one on. “Y/n, I will explain to him what happen, he will understand” Aragorn said calmly. “I didn’t even hunt for you today! Gah!” you yelled before knocking into a mop bucket. Aragorn stood up, helping you up. “Annndd now I’m wet, this is PERFECT.” you whined. 
“Y/n. Breathe. Calm down. We will hunt together.” He said. “...We will?” You asked. “I don’t just go to war Y/n, I was a ranger of Gondor before I was king.” He said. You sighed. “I need to go home then...” you said. “I’ll go with you. You’re technically awake at sunrise by the way. The sun is still rising..” He said. You sighed and nodded. “I’ll warn you now... My home is not much.” you muttered. “My home was a hollowed out tree for a year. I do not care where you live as long as it’s safe for you.” he said simply. 
And there you were, walking a woodland path with Aragorn. “You take this path everyday?” he asked, ducking under branches as he walked. “Everyday.” You nodded, stepping over a log. You carefully stepped onto stones before you untied your apron and walked to a small cottage. At first glance, many would have thought that your home was a forge. You walked in, a cat looking up from a chair. You sighed, as Aragorn stepped in behind you. Blueprints were scattered around on a desk by a window for armor. He noticed you walk into a room he presumed to be your bedroom and turned around looking at the rest of your home. He saw your kitchen, it being small but perfect for one person. He saw your messy desk, he saw gardening tools around. He looked out the window and saw a small but well kept garden. He saw near your desk books on the floors, some to do with smithing, others on atlases and the world. He noticed though, the entire separate stack next to the atlases. It was a whole stack of history books and papers with scribblings tucked between the books. There were also language books... Were you trying to learn elvish?
“you really like reading don’t you?” Aragorn asked. “Oh! Yes I do.” You answered from your room. “ Care- tye quet- eldarin? (Do you speak elvish?)” He asked. “ Ni care-! Quite fluentlime actuallime. (I do! Quite fluently actually.)” You answered. You looked up, realizing that he asked you in elvish. “ Tye quet- eldarin sire? (You speak elvish sire?)” You asked. “ Héru elrond raised me an yen. (Lord Elrond raised me for year.)” He said, petting the cat. You walked out in leather armor and a bow. The bow caught his eye. There were small pictures engraved on the bow. They were very detailed, making him shocked that someone could make such small images that beautiful. “Did you do those?” He asked. “Oh... yes I carve pictures into it when I’m bored at home.” you admitted as you opened a cabinet next to your desk. You pulled a dagger from it, putting it into a small sheathe. 
You seemed relatively focused when you were hunting. You were very quiet, very careful and very set on finding what you wanted. Aragorn let you take the lead, watching you step forward. You locked onto something, hooking your arrow to the string and pulling back. You sucked in a breath, looking at a deer before releasing the arrow. You quickly fired two more arrows and killed it, walking over to it. “You have good aim.” Aragorn said. “Thank you.” you said, beginning the process of getting the meat. You heard a noise though and looked up. “You remind me of Legolas--” “Shhh.” you hushed. Another noise, along with heavy breathing. You rose, slowly. “Crap.” you breathed. 
Aragorn followed your eyes to what worried you. A bear. A very big, very angry looking bear. You stepped back Aragorn drawing his sword. You hooked another arrow to your string, locking eyes with it and watching as it let out a loud roar on its hindlegs. You fired, hitting its jaw. You looked over at Aragorn who was very much prepared to attack and watched as he leapt forward, striking the bear. You aimed again, hitting the shoulder of the bear before it seemed to really be annoyed with Aragorn, tackling him to the ground. “Aragorn!” you gasped. “ONE LAST ARROW!” “I don’t have a clear shot!” you breathed. “DO IT ANYWAY!” He yelled. You nodded, trying to avoid hitting Aragorn. You were amazed by your own aim as you shot the bear, it ceasing movement. Aragorn pushed the bear off of him and stood up. 
“Sire are you--” “You have got to meet Legolas, he would love you.” Aragorn chuckled. You looked at him worried. “Y/n?” He asked. “You could’ve gotten hurt you dolt! What were you thinking, charging into a fucking bear like that!?” you asked. He blinked, noticing the change in your personality.  “...Sorry for worrying you Y/n.” He said. you covered your mouth reminding yourself who you were speaking with. “I’m sorry I-I don’t know what came over me your highness--” “Y/n, It is fine. I want you to address me like a friend.” He said. “...why?” you asked. “I would say we’re friends. I mean, I do not share my bed with acquaintances.” He said. "I... I still should not have snapped..." You said. "I worried you Y/n. It's fine." He said sincerely. You sighed, saying nothing but walking over and collecting the deer meat and walking back. Aragorn followed, noticing figures in the woods. He wasn't sure if the figures were people or animals, seeing them all around him.
"Y/n are you aware of the figures in the woods?" He asked. You nodded. "That would be the fades." You said nonchalantly. "Fades? Like... Ghosts?" He asked. "Didn't you charge with the dead?" You asked. "Yes, I'm not afraid I'm merely walking with caution." He said. You snorted, laughing at the man's refusal to admit he was scared. He smiled, hearing your laugh. "It's alright to admit they scare you your highness." You said. He watched you turn around and time seemed to stop.
You had this beautiful smile, the breeze blowing your hair and his heart pounded in his ears. He swore for a moment he had seen a painting similar to you. That or you had to have been directly from a painting. Either way? You were gorgeous. 
Weeks had passed, you usually finding Aragorn in the kitchens. He actually would end up doing tasks himself, washing dishes, peeling foods, cleaning around the areas. The kitchen staff (except you) could tell why he was there. And the reason was out tonight. “Where is Y/n?” Aragorn asked, confused. “Sick... Katerina is actually very worried, the woman couldn’t even move this morning.” A man answered. He pondered. He knew you said the woods were dangerous at night but if your safety was at a risk... “fuck it.” He thought to himself, going to the stables.
He rode down the path you took, understanding just what you meant when you said it was dangerous. Fades were practically everywhere. Truth be told when he met the King of the dead, he was deeply unsettled by him but kept it to himself because thousands of lives were at stake. Aragorn finally reached your home, opening the door to find Katerina pacing. She looked over and froze. “King Aragorn what--” “Where is she?” He asked. She pointed to your room and he walked in, seeing you unconscious. “What are her symptoms?” He asked. “She’s running a fever, can’t keep any food or water down and she’s been dry heaving when she wakes up.” Katerina answered. Problem number one was the being unable to keep water down. “does she keep herbs around?” he asked. “Like cooking?” Katerina asked. Aragorn sighed. “OH! Medicinal herbs? Yes, in her closet over there on a shelf.” She realized. He opened the door and found various tools in the closet, it being lined with shelves with labeled jars and various potion like things. A book sat in the corner labeled “Discovered Remedies”. Out of both desperation and curiosity he opened it, reading it. He found that you seemed very well versed in remedies for things like a common cold and even stumbled across remedies for poison. Nothing though for what he was seeing. 
He thought to himself what would help and reached an answer. “Elvish medicine.” He realized. “There is an elven encampment nearby.” Katerina said. “There is?” He asked. “Yes, two miles west from here.” She said. He nodded, walking out. “You’re not going out there at night!” She gaped. “Y/n needs help.” He said before leaving. You whimpered, feeling unbearably warm. “Y/n, the king has gone to get help..” Katerina soothed. “Ara...Aragorn..” you muttered in a barely lucid state. She held you close, wiping the sweat off of your forehead with a wet cloth. “I don’t care what anyone says... That man loves you.” she muttered. “Love...” you muttered, trying to speak. “Shhh.” Katerina said. “Love...” you uttered again. “Y/n, this can’t be healthy to push yourself.” Katerina said softly. “I... Love... him.” you muttered. Katerina paused. “The King?” She asked. “y...yes.” you coughed out. She looked at you and then smiled. “Oh I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear.” she muttered. 
Aragorn rode through the forest, going as fast as he could. He found the encampment rather quickly, seeing the elves eating around a fire. He dismounted, running over. They all drew weapons but he raised his hands. “ Ni maure help. Mime nur na- laiva, se pole-'t get better  (I need help. My friend is sick, she can't get better.)” He said. They looked at him up and down. “ Sina nur, does se cui- -esse i cottage atta miles au-? (This friend, does she live in the cottage two miles away?)” An elven woman asked. “yes.” He nodded. They all seemed alarmed. “We will help.” she nodded. 
You seemed to be getting worse, your temperature getting to a very concerning point. Katerina was trying to keep calm, waiting on someone to come back. She started thanking Gods when the front door shot open, two elves walking in. “Lift her head.” one of them said. She lifted your head slowly, you whining in pain. One of them opened your mouth, forcing some sort of elixir down your mouth. You coughed but kept it down. “That should subside the vomiting. Get her some water.” The elf told the other elf. The elven woman ran and came back with water. “Now, miss Katerina... We’re going to ask you to hold her down” He said. she blinked. “Why?” She asked. “We know she’s not going to react well to the potion, most actually fight us out of it.” The elven woman said. Katerina reluctantly held down your arms. 
They put something in your mouth that made you fight against them and Katerina had trouble holding you back from trying to get it out of your mouth. “Y/n, calm down, please we’re trying to help!” Katerina said. Eventually you calmed down, the sweating and fever dying down by sunrise. Katerina left you with Aragorn, him watching over you from a chair next to your bed. You woke up around sunrise, seeing Aragorn asleep with your cat in his lap. You weren’t entirely sure if this was a dream or not. It had to have been right? For him to be here? 
He felt someone staring, opening his eyes to see you yawning. “You’re awake” He said relieved. “When did I even come home?” You asked quietly. “You don’t remember coming home?” He asked. “No... I just remember feeling warm... Now I’m cold.” you shivered. He wrapped his cloak around you, feeling your forehead. “The fever has died down.” He said. He allowed his hand to drift to your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. You knew now this was no dream. By feeling his touch you were now wide awake. “S-sire, what are you doing here?” You asked. He looked down. “Y/n, I noticed you were gone one night. Someone in my staff told me you were sick, why didn’t you mention anything?” He asked. You sighed, “Because I didn’t want to get in the way. Sire, I’ve become a large part in your daily life these past weeks, I didn’t want you to deal with.. with this!” you said. “Y/n, you pushed yourself past the need for human medicine if it hadn’t been for the elves, you would have died.” He said. you shook your head. “I do not need you here taking care of me sire, that is my job for you! Don’t you see that our dynamic isn’t normal!?” “Stop calling me Sire!” “Do you not hear yourself? This is not normal for me to be this close to you!” “Do you wish to be close to me Y/n?” He asked. You sighed. “this isn’t about what I want-” “As your king I am asking you: What do you want?” Aragorn asked. 
Your heart pounded in your ears. “...You.” you responded, heart still going. “I’m right here Y/n and if you’ll allow it I will be all yours.” He whispered, very close to your face. You stopped him though looking down. He paused, looking into your eyes. “We can’t. You’re... You’re a king and I’m just your servant, I cannot be your queen. My status isn’t even wealthy.” You muttered. He shook his head. “I do not care for titles or wealth and last I checked, I was king.” Aragorn said. “...Lord Elrond would not allow this.” You said. “Lord Elrond does not Rule Gondor.” Aragorn reminded. “Aragorn. Talk to him first, then we will talk.” was all you told him.
Aragorn sighed now, sitting on the throne as Elrond droned on and on. “Then there is still the matter of finding you a wife-” “I have a suggestion.” Aragorn said. “Oh! Thank the Valar, you’ve found a suitable maiden!” Elrond said relieved. You seemed to have walked in just in time, handing Aragorn a cup of water. He took it, staring at you. You avoided his gaze, in fact you had been avoiding him all week. “Her.” Aragorn said. “Who? The servant?” Elrond asked. “Yes. Her.” Aragorn said. You looked up, freezing in place. “She’s very talented, well versed in history, makes maps, weapons and armor, she grows her own food, she speaks elvish, she’s practically a diplomat in the making she just doesn’t hold the title.” Aragorn said. Elrond looked at you. “Are the things he is saying true?” Elrond asked. “Yes my lord.” you nodded, looking at Aragorn confused. “... Then I cannot stop you.” Elrond said. Was this man happy that this was a servant becoming queen? No. But Aragorn was practically the man’s son and he saw the way that he looked at you. 
“What is going on your highness?” You asked confused. “I’m officially asking for your hand.” Aragorn said. You nearly dropped the empty cup you were holding with wide eyes. “Your highness you must be joking.” you said. “I am not. You said to speak with him, I’ve spoken with him. He approves and you are right in front of me. Could you please drop the stubbornness for one moment to tell me how you feel?” Aragorn asked. You gulped. “This is madness.” you said, Aragorn standing in front of you, setting the cup in your hands on a small table next to the throne. “I must be crazy or-or still recovering or-” “Y/n do you accept?” Aragorn asked. You nodded before Aragorn smiled. “I do- I accept--” His lips crashed onto yours, you smiling as he held you to him. 
Were people shocked to hear that a servant sat on the throne now? Yes. Were they even more shocked that it was Aragorn’s suggestion to marry you? Again, yes. But were you two happy? Oh hell yes. Aragorn and you would go on horseback rides through the lands, you smiling at your husband. You had one simple thought each time you looked at Aragorn as well.
“I will love you until the sun dies.”
This was a request from @snailcoveredcottage​ I hope you enjoyed it!
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thebiscuiteternal · 3 years
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Since the exchange reveal was today, I can finally cross-post this here.
“A Working Relationship” Sci-Fi AU, Artificial Intelligence, Secret Histories, Intrigue, Finding Your Place (and getting a crush on your android boss)
__________
“I don’t care how smart he is, you’re not putting a Jin on this ship!”
His first reaction is a flush of anger. The second is a barely-smothered explosion of laughter.
In all the insults he’d borne over his parentage in his lifetime, this had to be the first time in… well… ever that it was his father’s side being disparaged.
But when he peeks around the corner and sees who’s arguing with the Admiral, he immediately understands why.
The speaker is a perso-core droid.
Meng Yao has no illusions about the treatment of the droids custom-ordered by the ports his father owns. He’s even met some of them, when they came to drop off another meagre payment to his mother. Delicate, beautiful dolls designed for little more than to be stared at… or played with.
Easily broken, and just as easily replaced.
His still healing ribs give a throb. He can relate to the feeling.
He can use it, too, he realizes, a plan coming together in the back of his mind as he watches the pair bicker.
“Excuse me.”
They both turn at the sound of his voice, and the droid’s eyes narrow, photoreceptors and the light patterns decorating his body briefly shading closer to red than their usual pale green. He’s reasonably sure that if that long dark hair and silver skin weren’t synthetic, he’d be bristling like an offended Firenian Raptor Cat.
It’s an uncomfortably attractive look.
He immediately squashes that thought, then bows, carefully emphasizing the stiff discomfort of the motion. “I apologize for causing any discord. It’s true that my father is Jin Guangshan, but I have no association with the company, nor the ports that it owns.”
“You approached him for work two stationary cycles ago,” the droid says, voice tinged with suspicion.
He had been made aware his background had been searched from the moment he’d been identified as a Jin, however, so he is ready for that. “My late mother desperately wished for me to join the family business. His, of course, not hers. But visiting him has proven to be a mistake. It’s clear now that my father has a very similar opinion of his illegitimate children as he does his droids.”
He opens one of the side panels of his flight suit to show off the bruises that still prominently mottle his skin despite two visits to a medical ward he could afford.
It’s the briefest flicker-flash, a barest twitch of synthetic musculature that most people wouldn’t notice on a human, much less a droid. But the reaction is there, and he can feel the emotional shift in the air as the droid and the Admiral look at each other, the argument between them now silent instead of snapped.
After a few moments that surely feel longer than they actually are, the droid makes a noise that would have been a huff from anyone with lungs and turns away. “One full planetary rotation,” he grumbles, then stalks away down the hall.
If the droid means the planet they’re currently in orbit over, that’s thirty days by the timers in the ports. “Is that to be my entire billet?” he asks cautiously, not wanting to let it sound like a complaint.
Admiral Nie shakes his head. “Probationary period. If Sang-er declares you a fit for Baxia’s crew by then, we’ll re-draw your contract for a more formal position.”
“You value his opinion very highly,” Meng Yao says, careful to keep his tone neutral, lest the Admiral think he’s probing.
Which he is, but-
“As well I should. He's been serving with our ships since before I was born, after all; he knows the fleets inside and out down to the last fastening and half-byte of data."
Something about the way the Admiral says that lingers in the back of his mind even as he’s herded down to the ship’s infirmary to have his ribs properly treated. It’s hardly uncommon for the owners of a particularly well-made droid to brag about them, but to his ear it sounds… odd.  
Less like an owner pleased with his possession and more like a younger brother proud of his elder.
He’s finished settling into his cabin, what few things he owns unpacked and stowed away, when something twigs in his brain.
Sang-er.
It couldn’t possibly be what he’s thinking… could it?
---
The first week of Meng Yao’s temporary new job starts with a surprise and ends with a realization.
Given his prior experiences with employers and Sang-er’s clear dislike of him, he braces himself for the bottom of the heap and jobs like cleaning over-boiled acid out of engine cells. Instead, Sang-er puts him through a mentally grueling -and yet actually somewhat satisfying- examination of his skills, then unceremoniously shoves him straight into financial work.
Tracking numbers and allocating data has always been something he could do in his sleep if he so wished; though he doesn’t exactly let his mind wander, the tasks are easy enough that they allow him space to observe.
He wasn’t wrong, he decides, in pegging the relationship between his human boss and his mechanical one as being something akin to siblings.
Which really only lends further credence to the theory his other observations are steadily building.
Observations like how Sang-er is simply too advanced for a perso-core droid. He sifts and sorts information, skimming star maps and calculating alterations via hard-light illusions generated from his own body, and does it all with a speed and ease that should have overtaxed him a hundred times over. Small-droid cores simply aren’t designed to hold or process that much information that fast.
But a ship’s core, on the other hand…
When he’d been small, a friend of his mother’s had dreamed of one day leaving and joining the Qinghe fleets, drawn by the near legendary status of Nie Zhuyun and her ship Huaisang. A captain so sharp and daring and a ship so clever and nimble that people claimed she had somehow bonded her mind to the core to make them a perfect symbiosis.
How many of the tales his mother’s friend told were true were arguable, but what had been true was that when the Wen Chancellor had finally succeeded in his near singleminded obsession to have the ship destroyed, its core had never been found in the wreckage.
Nie Mingjue had said that Sang-er had been serving the fleet since before his birth, but that didn’t mean it had always been in the same body.
And then there is the second most important observation: Sang-er never leaves Baxia.
He’d been unsure about that one at first. Even though they are docked, most of the crew remain onboard a good portion of the time. But after a few days of watching, it has become clear that while even the Admiral occasionally goes out into the port for one bit of business or another, Sang-er stays on board at all times, sometimes with some gentle but pointed reminding on the Admiral’s part.
As if the droid is being purposely kept hidden.
And he can guess from whom. His father has a very good business relationship with Wen Ruohan; even though the ship is docked in a port that isn’t directly owned by the Jin family, there’s a fairly large presence of both Jin and Wen contingents. If he’s right, and Sang-er really is a reconstruction of Huaisang’s core-
He stiffens, then reaches out to stop the flow of numbers he’d been monitoring.
When he had gone to that first medical ward… there had been…
He closes his eyes and sucks in a sharp breath, then lets it out slowly.
"There a problem?" a nearby officer asks.
"No, sir. Just needed a moment for the eyes," Meng Yao says, and then gets back to work.
---
His thoughts nag at him for the rest of the designated day hours and follow him into his bed that night. They’re still plucking at his nerves the next morning, annoying him enough that he barely touches the breakfast he would have gladly stolen -maybe even committed violence to get- from a rich man’s table not too long ago.
If he's right, then he has inadvertently picked up some information that would be extremely valuable to the Admiral and Sang-er.
But to use that information, he will have to do something he absolutely despises.
Tell everything.
There is no safety in full disclosure. Keeping things close to his chest had been the only way he’d survived the arduous journey between the port he’d grown up in and the central hub where his father resides.
But Sang-er has already proven very capable when it comes to checking up on those he does not trust. If he withholds anything that he overheard, and Sang-er finds out he’d done so, then being ousted from the ship is probably the best thing he could expect.
And… he... likes it here.
It’s hard to admit that, even just in his own mind. He’s only been employed on Baxia for a week.
And yet something in his heart just settles at the idea of staying here in a way he can’t remember feeling in years. The Admiral checks up on his wellbeing. His other crewmates treat him as his station befits. He’s comfortable in the jobs he’s been assigned. Even Sang-er -for all the droid’s aversion to him- judges his work fairly and takes his opinions into genuine consideration. Comparing the crew he’s found himself with to the tittering sycophants who’d taken such glee in watching his father reject him-
He bites his tongue to stop the flow of bitterness before it becomes overwhelming and clouds his thoughts.
The point is that, for the first time in a very long time, he has found himself a place he does not want to give up.
If that means having to lay all his cards on the table, then… then fine.
He reaches a point in his tasks that he can safely pause for lunch, but instead of going down to the dining hall, he goes looking for Sang-er.
---
After more than a little unsure wandering and some eventual directions from a couple of helpful crewmates, Meng Yao finds the droid in question in one of the small-ship hangars, surrounded by a star map and several of their scout pilots.
For a moment, his breath catches in his throat.
In the dim lighting of the hangar, Sang-er's eyes and the geometric designs decorating his form glow brighter, mingling with the reflective light of the illusory stars against silvery skin. With one fingertip, he draws flight paths and points of interest, directing models of their ships less like he is ordering soldiers and more as if he is conducting dancers.
It’s hard not to stare, and in that moment he understands better some of the particulars of the information he’s about to relay.
Drawing up his nerve, he straightens his back and approaches the knot of people just in time for the lights to come back up and the star map to vanish into the palm of Sang-er’s hand. A couple of the younger scouts wave to him, drawing the droid’s attention in his direction.
“Please excuse me if I’m interrupting anything, but may we speak in private?” he asks quickly, before any potential judgements can be made.
Sang-er regards him silently, expression completely neutral, then tilts his head in acquiescence. “You’ve all got your assignments,” he says to the scouts. “See you in fourteen days.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Follow me,” Sang-er says as he turns on his heel, and Meng Yao obeys.
Their destination turns out to be the hangar manager’s office, or what would have been the hangar manager’s office if they didn’t have Sang-er. The doors close behind them with a swish and click, but Meng Yao barely hears it over his own heartbeat.
He swallows hard as he watches the droid lean against the desk.
Okay.
All cards on the table.
"Wen Ruohan knows that you're Huaisang."
Sang-er doesn’t flinch or stiffen or show any other reaction that would give away a human but, like their first meeting, Meng Yao feels the subtle shift around them. "Interesting. And you've come to this conclusion because…?"
It’s not an outright denial. No automatic accusations of wild imaginations or delusions or… anything like that. Just a quiet demand to show his work, like the evaluations before. Meng Yao can’t help but find it oddly soothing for this to be treated as nothing more than a basic report despite the severity of what he’s revealing.
“There’s a specific medical ward in the district of Koi Port that most of the residents pretend doesn’t exist. At the time I was… dismissed, it was the only one I could afford to visit. One of the other patients there was complaining that a job for the Wens had been taken from him and handed over to shifters employed by the Jins.”
That gets a visible reaction as Sang-er’s hands clench on the edge of the desk he’s leaning on.
It’s an entirely understandable response. Shifters are the worst of the worst when it comes to orchestrating and carrying out the theft of high-end droids, and their services don’t come cheap at all. For someone like Wen Ruohan, who already has so much power of his own, to enlist them from another company…
Well, the implication is clear.
“Go on,” Sang-er says, and Meng Yao doesn’t fail to notice the tension that’s entered his voice.
“He didn’t specifically describe the target, but he did mention it was aboard the flagship of the Qinghe fleet, and that the backer had ordered it to be captured fully intact, or else. No offense to any of the other droids here, but there’s no one other than you who could possibly garner that kind of demand. And no other reason why Wen Ruohan would make it.”
“I see.” Sang-er’s expression still hasn’t changed, but the words are decidedly even more clipped. “And what price would a Jin expect for information like this?”
There’s the suspicion that he’s been waiting for.
All cards on the table, Meng Yao reminds himself for what may be the tenth time. Or the twentieth, he admittedly has lost track. If he doesn’t remain honest now, he stands to lose everything.
He allows himself one more nervous swallow before answering. “I don’t know… probably something obscene, honestly. I want to be extended to a full contract.”
“And?”
“That’s it.”
Sang-er blinks at him, unable to catch the surprise from flickering across his face quickly enough, though it’s quickly schooled away. “That’s it,” he repeats, arching one eyebrow disbelievingly.
“You’ve already given me nearly everything I was looking for when I originally went to meet my father. I want to keep that,” Meng Yao says. “The rest… I will come to terms with eventually.”
There’s no immediate response, and the silence stretches uncomfortably between them as Sang-er appraises his words and everything else. It’s hard not to squirm under the stare.
Then Sang-er’s expression visibly softens, and the sight nearly knocks the wind out of him, it catches him so off guard .
Oh, that’s just not fair.
He quickly recovers, standing straight as Sang-er pushes himself away from the desk and walks past him.
“Well, come on, then,” the droid says, and he absolutely does not shiver at the new warmth in his voice.
“Where are we going now?”
“To give my recommendation to Mingjue and have you moved to more permanent quarters. And then we will start planning to deal with this new development.”
We will start planning, he says.
Meng Yao finds he very much likes the sound of that.
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You are mine
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Shang Tsung x Reader
Sfw so far ;)
“My lord.”
You stood before the great and powerful, Shang Tsung, a god, a titan of the many realms. There were no realms left to conquer, all of them under his influence.
How did you come to be in his presence? Simple. You were part of what was left over, given the simple task of keeping what was conquered, conquered and silencing any interference. While many others had their influences in Outworld, yours was more centered to Earthrealm, learning a small degree of sorcery to keep them in check.
You never dared defy your lord, for it was more than certain to end in death. All that could be done was to do your job and hope that the day would go by quicker than the last.
“Is it taken care of, that petty excuse for a resistance?”
He was huge, his throne enormous as he sat before you. He was almost as big as they described the elder gods to be.
“Yes, my lord. They have been… dispensed of.”
He leaned forward a little, a smirk pulling at his lips.
“You look hesitant, my dear… Is there something on your mind?”
You felt fear settle in the pit of your stomach.
Would he kill you? The moment he thought you would betray him, would he take your life, even if it was just suspicion? Skin going numb, your face definitely flushed, you shook your head.
“No, sir.”
There’s no way in hell that he believed you. Your heart sank as his form disappeared into a cloud of green smoke and you felt it, his presence right behind you, the smell of spices and herbs filling your lungs as he leaned over your shoulder. His eyes peered at you, watching, waiting for your to break underneath him.
“As a servant of mine, I need you in good shape to run my… errands, as I also need to make sure you wont do something you’ll regret.” His hand was on your shoulder, claws from his gauntlet, digging into your skin.
“What is on your mind? Speak.”
You shivered, sweat shimmering on your forehead. The plan was to give your briefing and leave, not be interrogated, but his insistence would lead to your honesty and your honesty could lead to your death.
“Sir, I- I don’t... There’s nothing-“
He pulled you around to face him, his look now menacing and filled with disgust.
“You must really want me to end your pathetic existence, don’t you? If you do not tell me why your behavior is so erratic over such a simple question, I will end you.”
He was paranoid. He was always paranoid. That’s why he sent all of his goons to do his dirty work so that he never had to risk his own life. He was smart. He was aware that if the titan of time, Kronika, could be defeated, than he was no safer than she was.
“I was only curious as to why we needed to kill those people. They were weak, nothing. You could have killed them effortlessly if they tried anything funny.”
He was silent for a moment, as if he were reading your eyes for the truth, and satisfied, looked away and looked up from where you stood, to his giant throne.
“Earthrealmers are unpredictable. Someone as pathetic as one simple human can find a way to bring something down, even something like a god.”
He began to walk around you, a slow pace as he spoke, the beautiful material of his outfit, wafting behind him.
“With that knowledge, they, like every other realm, must be kept in check. Any attempt at resistance must be crushed. Do you understand?”
You looked to the floor, bowing your head to the former sorcerer.
“Yes, sir. That was my only concern.”
He chuckled.
“You thought I would kill you for having thoughts that question my own?”
You glanced up at him, eyes meeting his, almost questioning how he knew, but that was a foolish internal question. He was a god. He could read you like an open book.
“People don’t learn unless they question. I can teach you better if I know what you do not. You should not be afraid to speak your thoughts.”
He moved closer, his face dangerously close to yours, his breath smelled like early morning frost.
“The only reason to fear me is failure. So do not fail me.” There was that grin again, those eyes dark, but playful, that smirk telling you everything you need to know about how much of a snake this man was.
He was manipulative. He knew how to get under his chess piece’s skin and make them move to his will. He knew how to strike fear into their hearts as well as quell what other fears they may have. He plays like he’s your friend, that he won’t hurt you, but any wrong move could be mistaken as betrayal and betrayal is not taken lightly by this titan of a being.
“As long as order is restored, I do not see why you don’t deserve a small break for all of your great efforts. There are plenty of others to keep a watchful eye in your place.”
He touched your shoulder, you guessed reassuringly, walking you to the other side of the platform, “seeing you out.”
“A vacation? I think that’s… I mean…”
He very visibly rolled his eyes at you.
“Speak.”
Body tensing under the squeeze of his hand, you spoke your mind.
“I just think it isn’t necessary, my lord. I’m a little stressed about the last mission, but I’m not tired.”
You both stopped at the edge of the round platform, your first thoughts were wondering if he was going to push you off or not.
“Nonsense. My best champions are to be taken care of so that they may be always fit for battle. Rest is a requirement for strength. It would be unwise to not accept the gift I give.”
You nodded and watched as he opened a portal of magic, fire, and electricity.
“You are most appreciated for your services and will be repaid in kind.”
He lifted his hand, instructing you to move into the portal. You did without another word, only looking back to him with a curiosity, a silent question to which he responded with a smile as you disappeared into the portal.
When you opened your eyes, you were inside an Earthrealm city, a resort of sorts, realizing what he had in mind for you and thought that was the weirdest thing you’d ever experienced and you had seen some crazy shit.
The god titan, Shang Tsung, booked you to be pampered for a few days?
You had an idea as to why.
Maybe it was because you questioned him, that he thought he should manipulate your thinking with reward. The more you do as he says, the more of this you will get, the more presents you get, the more delicious food or opportunities you will receive.
You were not dumb. You could see the pattern. The only reason you did what he said was because you had your life on the line. He could just rule you with fear and get the same result, but this… this was so clearly an attempt to manipulate you emotionally, motivate you to be willing to give your life for him rather than die for him only because he would kill you if you didn’t. The strength of a warrior is only as strong as their devotion. You would take what he gave, alright.
But you would not fall for his games as others would.
“He sent me.”
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