#more of a sugar daddy situation was not was i was expecting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

muchosbesitos · 5 months

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omg your miguel stories are tew good plz stop encouraging my obsession💀 but just in case you dont wanna listen👀... is there anyway you can do a one shot of miguel being like a laid back sugar daddy/just spoils the absolute shit out of us without giving a fuck PLEASE🙏🏾

anywaysssss love you and i wish you all the best<3

million dollar man

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: age gap (reader’s in college while miguel’s in mid thirties), handjob, and semi-public fingering

author’s note: i loved writing this request sm so thank you for allowing me to indulge 😩 wishing you the best too <33

word count: 4.8K

The rules of the website had practically imprinted in your brain with how many times you reread them- no cat-fishing relationships or scams, no low-quality photos, and to not be abusive. The rules seemed pretty simple but you couldn't help but hesitate to accept the terms, your hand hovering the cursor. "Oh fuck, just click it already," you mumbled to yourself, accepting the small box on the right corner of the screen after a couple seconds of hesitation. Your screen flooded with what seemed to be hundreds of older men, most of them actively seeking out for a sugar baby in exchange for some kind of service in return.

You'd been wanting to sign up for a sugar daddy website after noticing how empty your pantry was, a couple ramen packets sitting on the counters collecting dust. While you knew that you could be living much worse, you couldn't help but want more than eating the same food everyday. With the amount of student debt that you were crumbling under, you couldn't afford to make extravagant purchases. The job that you had managed to sustain you for your basic needs, but you were tired of simply just floating above the debt line. You found yourself with the desire to have more.

You decided to accept on the terms of the website and set up a profile, but you couldn't bring yourself to explore the options available. You stepped aside from the computer, rubbing over your eyes as you debated the reality of the situation.

You didn't have much time to regret your decision though, your phone alarm ringing with the reminder that you had to be getting ready for work soon. You shut off your computer, deciding to face the consequences of your actions at a much later time when you weren’t running late. After putting on the uniform for the ice cream shop that you worked at, you made your way out the house out to the parlor.

"I don't really see what the problem is with having a sugar daddy. You deserve more than what this place pays," one of your coworkers, Luna, told you as the two of you cleaned up the spoons from the previous shift. "You don't think I'm being a gold digger by doing it?" You asked her, wanting to get some kind of reassurance about the doubts that'd been clouding your mind since you'd joined the website.

She shrugged, walking over to take the order of an elderly woman that walked in. "If they know what they're getting into, I don't think it constitutes as being a gold digger. They know that the relationship is purely transactional," she responded to your question after the woman stepped away with her vanilla cone.

Her words rung through your mind as you sat down in front of your computer after getting off work, deciding to explore the options that were available. Most of the names shown on the website were some of Nueva York's most prominent businessmen, their name plastered onto some of the most successful buildings in the state.

You'd expected for most of the profiles to be senile men who were in the middle of a life crisis, instead getting men in their mid forties to sixties. Your nose scrunched up as you clicked through some of their profiles, most of them coming up as married with the description of 'wanting discreet fun.'

You were about to give up on your search for the night when you stumbled upon a profile of a man in his mid-thirties, one of the youngest men you'd seen in the fifteen minutes of scrolling. Miguel O'Hara. His profile revealed to you that he was divorced, his description being that he sought out for someone to spend time with in exchange for monitory compensation, a clear difference between his profile and the others you'd encountered.

To say that he was an easy swipe right was an understatement, your finger almost snapping off from how fast you clicked on your mouse. Not only was his persona more endearing than those you'd encountered, he was one of the more handsome men you'd had seen. You didn't think too much of the swipe, your eyes widening in surprise as you got the notification that it was a match.

You spent about a week talking to him about what could be expected out of the arrangement before he suggested that he take you out to a dinner. His reasoning behind the spontaneous date was that he simply wanted to see how the two connected outside of text, get a feeling of what type of person you were. As you waited for the day of the dinner to arrive, you couldn't help but be filled with anticipation and excitement.

You'd even gotten up early the day of to plan out your outfit ahead of time so you wouldn't have to do so after class, choosing to wear a pair of jeans that weren't too distressed with a black top. Scenarios of how the dinner would go riddled your mind throughout the day, your focus of what was on the board diminishing with every second that you were in the classroom.

You showed up to dinner half an hour late due to the subway not arriving at its designated time, easily finding Miguel through the crowds of people. not only was the tallest one in the room, he was also the one with the nicest attire in the place. The black button down shirt he had on accentuated the bulging muscles underneath, the material flexing to fit around him perfectly and the black slacks that he had on fit his legs to perfection.

You caught a whiff of his cologne when he stood up to shake your hand, the pure scent of him reeking of money. He pulled the chair back for you, waiting for you to take a seat before he sat back down. You couldn't help but notice how well he filled out the seat, the pure presence of him almost demanding to be seen.

"Sorry I'm late, the subway got delayed," you started off, wondering just how long he'd been here waiting for you to show up. "While I do appreciate punctuality, I understand," he responded, handing you one of the menus from the table. You picked up the menu, noticing that none of the prices were on there but rather just what the meals had to offer.

A waiter came by a couple minutes later to take the orders, Miguel ordering steak with mashed potatoes and a red wine. "I'll just get the grilled chicken with water, please," you told the waiter, handing them your menu along with Miguel’s. They nodded and stepped away, the only sound at the table being the classical music playing throughout the restaurant.

You looked down at the plate of food dumbfounded, wondering how exactly it was that rich people got full. You were half expecting for the waiter to announce that it was a prank, to come back and fill up your plate. Upon realizing that the two bites that were placed on your plate was the whole meal, you reluctantly took a bite out of it.

"So, the terms of our arrangement would be pretty simple. I'd provide you with the funds that you deem appropriate and you would provide me with your company. I'm not expecting any kind of sexual favors in return, but I wouldn't be opposed to it if you had the desire to," he told you, his tone casual as if he were just having another business arrangement. You almost choked on the water you were sipping, setting the glass back down.

"So what you're saying is that you don't want to have sex with me unless you and I wanted to," you repeated back to him, raising a brow as he nodded. "Do you mind if I ask why?" The question came out of you without much thought, his brows furrowing in exchange. You thought he wasn't going to respond to the question as his silence turned deafening, the room seeming to rise in temperature with every second that passed. "I’m looking for this certain kind of arrangement because I know what to expect from this. My daughter passed away a couple months ago and it helped me to realize that no amount of money that I have will keep anyone next to me," he responded after a couple of minutes, his words coming out with a certain kind of precision as he spoke.

You stayed quiet as you let the words stick in your brain, wondering just what exactly it was that made this man so closed off to the world. You wanted to ask him more questions, but you figured that they weren't appropriate for the setting or the arrangement that was being discussed.

"I'd start off with giving you a short allowance for now, $500 a week just to get you started. It'll increase the more that we spend time together, a little bonus if we have to show up to an event together. Obviously, iId take care of the expenses of your outfit," he added, his red eyes boring into yours like they wanted to see through your very being. “That all sounds very promising, but I think I need some time to think about it if you don't mind," you finally spoke up, watching as his eyebrows bunched up before he nodded.

"You look unsatisfied by the meal. Was it not up to your liking?" He asked after you finished up with your meal, placing a couple hundred dollar bills on the table. "No, the meal was good. thank you," you told him, giving him a tight smile as you got up from the dinner table once the waiter came over to the table. "So if it was good, why do you look unhappy?" He pushed the question further, his eyes locked on you as the two of you headed out of the restaurant.

"Like I said, there wasn't anything wrong with the food. the portions were just a bit.. questionable," you responded, your voice dropping towards the end like you were admitting something taboo. You were expecting for him to protest after what he'd just paid, not the small chuckle that escaped from his lips.

Miguel took you to a burger joint in Brooklyn, stating that 'no other place could do it quite the same.' You'd ordered yourself a burger and fries along with a milkshake, Miguel getting the same thing as you. "Thank you for saying something, the whole meal felt like an appetizer," he told you as the two of you sat down with your trays, the juiciness from the burger looking more inviting than the piece of chicken you'd eaten earlier.

"How do you rich people put up with eating like that?" You asked him, almost moaning at the taste of the burger once you took a bite. "Most of them do cocaine if I'm being frank. I normally don't eat out unless I need to so it's few times I have to subject myself to that," he explained, watching as you stole some of his french fries with amusement.

Despite the initial awkwardness that'd been present throughout the dinner, you couldn't help but enjoy talking to him as the night progressed. His dry humor was something that you were growing to like, the way that he seemed to have a response for everything that you asked/told him.

He was honest and direct, not in a way that he used to excuse what some might deem as 'rude', but in a way that seemed genuine and vulnerable. He'd taken you home after the two of you had finished up, saying that it was too dangerous for you to be taking the subway alone at this hour. You watched as he pulled out of your house, a small smile on your face as he drove away.

The doubts about the arrangement crawled back into your brain once you were alone, absentmindedly reaching over for your laptop and signing in. You weren't sure what exactly it is that you sought out for, maybe some kind of reassurance that he wouldn't get bored with you or start expecting for you to act a certain way around him.

You opened up your browser, deciding to read a Reddit thread about the experiences that some others had as being sugar babies. While some of them described the experience as something pleasant, a few posts lingered about some other girls that had a bad encounter with their sugar daddy. You decided to close your computer after a couple minutes, coming to the realization that Miguel was nothing like the men described in those awful experiences and the decision to say yes had never been so obvious before.

You weren't sure when it was that you started seeing Miguel as more than a provider, seeing him as someone that you cared about beyond what he was giving you. He'd kept true to his promise, his daily allowance now being $700 with the time that the two of you spent together. You'd started to seek him out for the littlest things that you had to do, such as going out on grocery runs or going out for lunch.

When you'd asked him to go to the grocery store with you, you'd managed to deny the growing attraction that was slowly starting to build up by simply telling yourself that you were using him since he was able to reach the top shelf. But the more that you gave a thought about where the relationship between the two of you was headed, the more that you were certain that you couldn't live with yourself if he wasn't present in your future.

You went over to his house after feeling overwhelmed with your final exams coming up, hoping that he would just be able to spare a couple minutes and hold you. "What's wrong?" He asked once he opened the door, exhaustion and anxiety coating your features. "I just need you," you responded back to him, his face softening just the slightest bit before he opened the door to let you in.

He guided you over to his couch, his hand wrapping around your shoulders as he stroked your upper arm. The two of you stayed silent for a while, simply staring at the fireplace ahead of you. "I hope I didn't disturb you," you spoke up, knowing how busy he was.

"You could never disturb me. I like having you around, you're more tolerable than the people I work with," he responded, his thumb lazily drawing circles on your arm. "I'll take that as a compliment," you murmured, leaning against him as you felt the combined heat from his body and the fireplace lulling you into a sense of peace and security. "You should. What's got your little head all worked up anyways?" He inquired, the flame from the fireplace flickering in his eyes as you looked up at him.

"I have finals coming up. And I can't really afford to fail, otherwise I'll get my scholarship taken away. I don't know, I guess I'm just anxious knowing how much is on the line," you told him, realizing just how silly your concerns sounded out loud. “I can help you out if you’re really that stressed out about them,” he suggested after a couple seconds, the movements on your arm coming to a stop. "How about this. if you pass your finals, I'll take you on a little trip to Cabo to celebrate. We'll go on a mall spree beforehand to get you ready."

True to his word, Miguel had the tickets set up for the weekend which you would be done with finals. He'd been the first person that you told about passing them, hearing him say that he was proud of you felt like an even bigger accomplishment especially after he dedicated some of time towards helping you review.

"I knew that you could do it, you're so smart," he'd told you once you shared the news with him, his big arms enveloping you in a hug as he held you close to him. It was the first time he'd hugged you, the feeling strange to the both of you as he did. The act felt unpracticed, something he hadn't done in a long time with the way that his arms awkwardly wrapped around you. Despite that minor detail, you felt invincible as he held you like nothing could touch you.

"I'm thinking about getting my nails done. Which set do you think would look better?" You asked, handing him your phone with the Pinterest board of designs you'd saved. He grabbed his glasses from his case, putting them on the bridge of his nose as he peered down at your phone.

"Isn't it all the same just in different colors?" He noted, scrolling through your phone as he tried to find a difference in the multitude of designs you'd saved. "There's somewhat of a difference in there, it's pretty subtle since I just tend to go for what i'm familiar with," you responded, putting on your seatbelt as you waited. The two of you were heading out to the mall, but you'd come up with idea of getting your nails done after getting in the car.

Miguel ended up liking a simple red design with some gemstones on the pointer and ring finger so you gave the reference photo to the lady doing your nails. You watched as she put on the gemstones with precision, your eyes flicking over to Miguel as he waited for you in the lobby.

If he was uncomfortable in this setting, he didn't show it as he scrolled through the People magazine available. You turned your attention back to your nails, an idea sparking up in your head as she started to put on the final touches to the gem design. "Do you mind putting an initial on my ring finger?" You asked her before it was too late, waiting for her to agree before you told her what letter you wanted on there.

Your hand rested on his pants as he drove, his eyes flicking down to the design and slightly widened as he noticed the small 'M' on your ring finger. "What'd you do that for?" He asked, his attention turning back to the road after a couple moments of shock. "Figured it would be a nice little detail since you were so generous in paying for them," you responded, sliding down his zipper with a bit of difficulty as you adjusted to the feeling of the acrylic once more.

You watched as he let out a shaky breath, his eyes remaining on the road ahead. "I'm driving," he warned you as you started to palm him through his boxers. "So keep your eyes on the road, Miguelito. Just feel," you reiterated, your hand squeezing around his cock slightly. “Ay Dios, nos vas a matar.” (oh god, you’re going to kill us)

You watched as he retrained himself as he drove, knuckles starting to turn white from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. You picked up some of the precum leaking out through the tip of his reddened cock, lathering all over the shaft as a form of lubrication. Your hand moved with ease up and down his semi-hardened length, his cock getting harder with each tug that you gave him.

He let out a small hiss as he felt one of your nails brush up against the underside of his cock, the area a bit sensitive for him. He'd pay for your nails hundreds of times over and over if it meant he got to see them wrapped around his cock with his initial on them.

You pulled your hand once Miguel was nearing the mall, drying your hand of the sticky residue with a piece of tissue paper he had in the glove box. "Now you decide to stop?" He asked, maneuvering his way into the parking lot with such ease, parking in reverse in what seemed to be mere seconds. If it were up to you, you would've taken about twenty minutes to do the task before eventually giving up.

Your attention went back to the bulge in his pants, his cock still hard from your previous ministrations. "Well, maybe you'll get more motivated to get out of the mall now," you suggested, getting out of the car as you dusted off your attire. Miguel rolled his eyes as he followed behind you throughout the mall, his hand making the slightest contact with yours.

You stumbled into a Gucci store after a while of walking through the mall, immediately drawn into the designs of the bags. You looked around, one of them in particular catching your eye. The design of the bag was beautiful yet simple, a black leather handbag in the shape of a heart. Your eyes widened as you looked at the price tag attached, your hands making quick work to return it to the shelf.

Before you could get the chance though, Miguel grabbed your hand and turned your attention to him. "What's wrong with the bag? You don't like it?" He asked as he looked at you, expecting for some kind of reasonable answer. "No, there's nothing wrong. it's just expensive," you responded, avoiding eye contact with him as you stepped away from the shelf.

"Well, how much is it?" You heard him ask behind you before you got the chance to walk away too far, his hands reaching up for the purse. "It's almost five grand and that's not including tax. It's fine, I don't need a pu-," you started off but you got quickly interrupted when Miguel called over a sales associate to get him the bag from the back. "I thought you said it was expensive, mi cielo," he simply stated before he went off to check out with the associate that had the bag in a dust bag, taking his black amex card from his pocket as the transaction processed. You stood behind, watching as he paid for the bag with seemingly no hesitation.

The rational side of you threatened to come out, wanting to tell him that he could be spending those five thousand on something other than a bag, but you pursed your lips and watched the scene unfurling in front of you. You remembered the whole point of why'd you even joined the sugar daddy website, wanting the opportunity at having nice things.

"You may not need a purse, but your eyes practically lit up when you saw this one. I'm here so you don't have to resign to that disappointment that you've grown used to," he told you as the two of you walked out of the store, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Well, thank you. I really did like the bag,” you told him, leaning up to give him a small kiss on the cheek. You walked around the mall, eyes glancing around the different stores before eventually walking into Nordstrom.

You picked out a couple pieces for the trip that you'd need, such as a couple dresses, skirts, and bikinis for the warm weather you’d be exposed to. Miguel went with you to the fitting rooms, sitting down on the couches outside as he waited for you to finish up. You'd changed into the shirt and skirt that you'd pulled into the dressing room, looking at yourself reflected on the body-length mirror.

You couldn't deny that the skirt made every part of your legs look good, from your thighs to your ass. Even though you were confident that Miguel would end up liking it, you still decided to call him in to get his opinion. He opened up the door as discretely as he could, glancing around to make sure that no associates were nearby as he stepped inside.

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh as the giant of a man in front of you was rendered speechless, eyes raking up and down your figure as he took you in. "Te ves tan hermosa dressed like that," he finally spoke up after a couple seconds, his hands wrapping around your waist as he held you close to his body. (you look so gorgeous)

You weren't completely sure what the first part of his sentence meant, but you could guess that it was something good based on the tone of endearment that he used and the way that he couldn't keep his hands off you. "Can you be quiet for me?" He asked, looking at you through the mirror as his hands splayed on your stomach. The question sounded more like he was telling you to be quiet, so you simply nodded along and watched him sit down on the small stool.

Miguel placed you down on his clothed thigh, your legs spread out for him as your back fell flush against his toned chest. His hand made his way down your body, your skirt being pushed up as he did so. He cupped your clothed cunt, the expense of his hand capturing most of it.

"You look so pretty when you're all like this. All needy and just for me," he murmured into your ear, one of his hands holding you in place as the other one slid the black pair of panties you'd chosen to wear. One of his fingers went inside your cunt, the tightness of your walls engulfing it completely as he pushed it deeper inside of you. Your slick coated his finger as he opened you up in a way that only he could, reaching places that even some of your toys couldn't reach.

"Excuse me, but do you need some help in there? you've been in there for an awful long time," an associate called out, knocking on your door. Your eyes widened at the prospect of getting caught in this position, a small muffled gasp making its way out of you. "No, the dress is just stuck," you called out, hoping your voice didn't come out as needy as it sounded to your own ears.

"Well I can come in there and help you out. Sorry, it's just that we have a line forming," the associate told you, her hand coming to the doorknob and slightly shaking it as if she were trying to open it. Her attempts failed since the door was still locked on your end, the rattling of the knob stopping a couple seconds later.

You were half expecting him to remove his hand, but his fingers remained deep inside of your cunt as he looked down at you. "You weren't playing fair in the car so why should I have to play fair?" He spoke just low enough for you to hear, a hint of amusement as he spoke. You struggled to keep your voice even as you spoke, resisting the urge to just go ahead and let a moan rip out.

"Uh no, thank you though. It's just a zipper but it's almost off," you told the sales associate, letting out a small sigh of relief as the clacking of her heels retreated from the dressing rooms. Miguel pushed another one of his fingers into your cunt, moving them in a scissoring motion before he curled them upwards to reach that spot inside of you.

Your toes curled and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt his thumb make contact with your clit, the nub already starting to stimulate just by the touch of his finger. You felt your clit throb against his fingers as he rubbed small circles on it, the rhythm in sync with the fingers he was pushing inside of you.

Your back flushed against his chest as you felt yourself getting closer to that sweet release of euphoria, your shaky breaths and whimpers getting muffled as you pressed the palm of your hand against your mouth. Just as you were approaching that all too familiar release, Miguel pulled his hands away quickly.

You were about to protest before remembering what you'd done in the car, the words dying in your throat as you got up from his lap. "Touché," you mumbled as you started taking off the clothes that you'd been trying on, watching as he wiped his hand off on a handkerchief. Miguel covered up your body with his as he stepped out of the dressing room, closing the door quickly afterwards.

"Sorry about that, she called me into help her with the zipper. stupid thing wouldn't budge," you heard him speak outside, surely talking to the associate who must be growing impatient with every second that you spent inside. You stepped back into your clothes, carrying the choices that you'd picked out as you went to go join Miguel at the checkout line.

Needless to say, the attire that you'd showed Miguel proved to be a definite yes. He gladly paid for the rest of your clothes, not batting an eye as the total came out to be two thousand. "Thank you for the excellent customer service. The concern that you show for your consumers is truly admirable," he noted as the associate handed him back his card, a small smirk creeping up on his lips as he also received the shopping bag. The two of you made your way out of the store, completing the small checklist that the two of you had made for what was needed in order to have a successful trip.

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beesarekindaswag · 4 months

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Prompt : The Mean Girls of Wayne Enterprises

Hear me out…. Mean Girls but make it DCxDP.

The public personas that the bats present, modeled after “Brucie” Wayne are the perfect templates for Mean Girls shenanigans.

Imagine : Our favourite ghost boy has decided to venture out into the world after making sure that Amity would be safe and secure (perks of being the recently crowned King). Danny knows he’d never pass the physical tests to be an astronaut but that doesn’t mean he can’t at least achieve part of his space dream. He’d done his research, very thoroughly at that, and overall it was Wayne Enterprises that came out on top. Their aerospace department was miles ahead of the competition - presumably something to do with Bruce Wayne literally being the one funding the Justice League (and if rumour is to be believed, the OG sugar daddy for a certain Bat).

Disregarding Danny’s personal feelings about the JL, the chance to create technology that will be used in SPACE, for space exploration and understanding was too good to pass up.

Just the thought alone filled him with a sense of contentment. Thankyou space obsession.

Which is what had lead to the current situation - an internship at Wayne Enterprises itself. How he landed it, he has no clue - sure, he’s got some smarts (much more than he’ll give himself credit for) but his grades had suffered from his years of literally saving the city (and by extension, the world). Perhaps it was fate? Or more likely, a meddling time god…

Danny wasn’t complaining though.

Only three hours in to the position and he was barely containing his excitement - literally, the fulfillment of his secondary obsession, regardless of how second hand it might be, created such a buzz in his core. He was having to consciously stop his more ghostly attributes from shining through - not even metaphorically shining, damn you LED freckles (yes we’re using the concept of Danny’s ghost from reflecting his love of space - constellation freckles and all)

Now though, he had been released to break in the cafeteria. There was a panicked moment of ‘oh shit, where do I sit?’ But thankfully, his (half) life was saved by one of his new coworkers calling him over with a friendly wave.

“Hey, Daniel, right?”

“I go by Danny but yeah, thanks for the save there” a awkward laugh at his own words, “didn’t expect it to feel like high school all over again”

There’s polite laughter amongst the table and the conversation flows over to casual small talk. At least, it does until out of nowhere, all eyes jump to the doors.

Enter : The Plastics.

Richard Grayson - the dumbest guy you’ll ever meet.

“Once, he asked me why aster isn’t the opposite of disaster”

Timothy Drake - knows everything about everyone.

“That’s why his eyebags are so big - they’re full of secrets”

And the queen bee, Damian Wayne.

“Once he called me an uncultured swine… it was awesome”

(I don’t know what’s better - Damian aged up to match Danny or tiny Damian being Regina)

What follows is a comedic story: Danny meeting the three, them assuming he’s going to be out of touch being from the Midwest (he is but only in the sense that his version of normal is Fenton dumbfuckery) , him eventually getting past their public personas by just not giving a shit for their drama - he grew up with the QUEEN of mean girls, the Wayne boys have nothing on Paulina Sanchez.

Just, Mean girls Waynes… that’s it - that’s the post.

#dpxdc #funny #dc x dp #dcxdp #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc crossover #space core danny #batpham #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #mean girls #danny is just happy to work with space tech #he doesn’t care for the drama #let the boy do his space stuff

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phoward89 · 3 months

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This is based on this ask.

Coryo is a hands on dad in this. (Thank God, since he was a real piece of shit in the last daddy!Coriolanus one shot)

Everyone says that pregnancy is a beautiful experience. Women are supposed to look radiant and glowing as they're round with the new life they're growing inside of them.

What nobody tells you is that your feet and ankles swell, your back aches, you pee more than a race horse, you balloon into the size of a beluga whale, and your mood swings are all over the place because of the pregnancy hormones. Oh, and you crave the weirdest things.

Nope, people don't tell you that. You had to learn that the hard way. At least you had your husband by your side during everything.

Coriolanus is a very busy man, being the youngest President of Panem, but he always made time in his busy schedule for you. To check in on you and make sure you were okay. After all, it's his fault you're in the condition you're in.

Okay…

Well…

You both agreed to try for a baby during the honeymoon, so it technically wasn't his fault you're big and miserable right now.

Honestly, Coriolanus had baby fever and replaced your birth control pills with sugar pills a month or so before the wedding, so you were bound to get pregnant right away.

Anyways, you're currently so big that you can't do anything by yourself. Hell, you can barely even walk anymore. You're practically waddling like a duck.

And you're so emotional. You've been crying at the drop of a hat lately. Anything, literally anything, can put you into a crying drag. It was emotionally exhausting.

Your husband, the president, was surprisingly supportive of you. He doted on you. Even when you were complaining about being uncomfortable or crying your eyes out for the umpteenth time, Coryo was right by your side trying to comfort you.

Despite his cold, calculated, stoic nature that everyone saw, he was soft and loving towards you. But only you.

Because he loves you more than anything in this world.

Despite vowing to never let himself fall in love again, when you became his personal secretary when he was Senator Snow he fell for you.

It was hard not to. Your beauty paired with your personality was hard for him to resist.

So, he broke a promise to himself that he made at 18 or 19 years old. But, when it comes to love it just happens. Vowing to never fall in love's a foolish notion because one can't control who they fall in love with.

It just happens.

But, unfortunately, when he fell in love with you it wasn't when you were available. You had a long time boyfriend. And since Coriolanus wanted you to be his, he got rid of your boyfriend.

Permanently.

With poison.

And then a few months after your boyfriend was out of the picture, Coriolanus wooed you. He asked you out with pretty words and a single white rose. Of course you accepted.

Then, when he was campaigning to become Panem's youngest president, he proposed. And after he won the election, becoming President Snow, he married you; made you his First Lady Snow.

And now you're about to become a mother, another thing he had a hand in the making of.

The only problem was that your due date’s come and gone.

And you feel absolutely miserable.

“Darling, I just got off the phone with Dr. Wellock about your situation of being overdue.” Your husband, Coryo, announced as he walked into the sunroom room you were lounging in.

“What did he say?” You asked as the platinum blonde made his way over to your side.

“He says that an induction isn't done until the expecting mother is anywhere between 10-12 days overdue.” He said, taking a seat next to you on the sofa.

“So that means I have at least 5 more days of feeling miserable?” You asked, feeling tears begin to well up.

“Unfortunately, yes, my darling rose.” Coryo told you while wrapping an arm around you. Pulling you into his chest, he said, “The doctor gave me a list of things that can help to induce you naturally.” Rubbing your lower back, knowing that it was bothering you lately, you husband told you, “I'm having the kitchen staff cook the foods that'll help naturally induce you, Y/N.”

Coryo was a godsend. He was looking after you when he should be busy running the country. He didn't have an easy job.

He was the President of Panem.

And here he was catering to you. Offering you comfort and gentle reassurances during your difficult time of being overdue and feeling uncomfortable.

Suddenly, you felt overwhelmed. Felt like a burdened. And, before you could even control yourself, you started to cry into your husband's chest.

“What's wrong, little dove?” Coriolanus asked, threading his long fingers thru your hair, trying to soothe you.

“I feel bad that you're here with me instead of running the country. You’re the president, you should be working, not by my side giving me backrubs and helping me get from point A to point B all the time.”

“Y/N, darling, I might be the president, but I'm also your husband. As your husband, I put you and our unborn child before anything, including work. The wellbeing of my family will always come first, Panem second.”

“How did I get so lucky to have you?” You asked between sobs.

Because he whacked your Academy Sweetheart.

But, Coriolanus couldn't tell you that. No, that's a secret he'll take with him to the grave. Along with all the other various murders he's committed and will keep on committing in order to be all powerful and filthy rich.

No, instead the president just presses a kiss to your head and tells you, “Dumb luck, I suppose.” Rubbing circles into your lower back, causing soft moans to fall from your lips, Coriolanus smiled, “But I consider myself the lucky one for being your husband. There's no other woman in all of Panem that I could ever see myself loving as deeply as I love you.”

Sniffing and wiping at your eyes, you say, “Don't tell me sweet stuff like that or I'll never stop crying.”

Unfortunately, labor inducing foods didn't work. So, Coryo told you that the doctor told him that sex, nipple stimulation, and orgasms could help induce labor. You laughed at him, saying that had to be a lie since, despite your huge size, you were still very sexually active with him. Coriolanus just shrugged, claiming that's what the doctor told him.

You don't know if it was from sex or just your time to go into labor, but in the middle of the night (after having late night sex with your husband) you woke up with labor pains and a soaked nightgown. When you woke up Coriolanus, telling him that it was (finally) time and that you were in labor, he quickly grabbed your baby bag and rushed you to the hospital.

The man, being a very devoted husband and father to be, drove you himself. You feared that Coryo would drag you to the hospital in his pajamas, but much to your relief he did toss on some clothes before taking you.

Once at the hospital, since you're the First Lady of Panem, you were put on VIP status and given a private room with a window view of the Rockies. You didn't really care since you were in the worst pain of your entire life, but it was a nice gesture. Coriolanus sure did enjoy the special treatment you were getting. Remarking how only the best for his love would do.

The president never left your side during your labor. He wiped your sweaty forehead with a cool cloth, buzzed the nurses for ice chips and pain meds for you, and he let you squeeze his hand to the point he thought his bones would break whenever you had a particularly painful contraction.

The hospital staff just melted at the sight of President Coriolanus Snow doting on his First Lady Y/N Snow. The nurses were swooning everytime they heard Coryo tell you, “You’re doing so well, darling.”, “I know it hurts, little dove, but soon we'll have our baby and it'll be well worth it.”, “Squeeze my hand as hard as you need to, my darling rose. I served as a peacekeeper once, I can handle you breaking my hand while in labor pains.”

You were sitting up, pushing hard every 5 seconds, around 3 times per contraction. Coryo was right by your side, holding your hand and telling you, “You're doing wonderful, darling. Just a few more pushes and we'll be parents.”

The nurse in the room fought back the urge to swoon at the president’s words while the doctor just assured you that Coriolanus was right, that he could see the baby's head and after another push the baby would be born.

So, gathering all of the strength you could muster after pushing for what felt like hours, you did one last, hard push.

Your baby came out with a healthy set of lungs. Crying before even needing a spank to the butt.

Dr. Wellock held the baby up in the air, only to announce, “It's a girl!”

A girl. You and Coryo had a baby girl.

Tears of love welled up in your eyes as Coriolanus’ baby blues shines with pride as he whispered, “A baby girl.”, before pressing a soft kiss to your chapped lips.

“Mister President, Sir, would you like to cut the cord?” Dr. Wellock asked your husband as a nurse helped you deliver the placenta.

“Yes, I would like to.” Coriolanus replied before standing up and going over to the doctor. Silently, the doctor passed him the scissors and he cut the cord. After cutting the cord, your husband returned to your side while the doctor passed the baby over to the nurse to be cleaned and wrapped in a blanket.

“She's beautiful, darling.” Coriolanus told you as the doctor quickly cleaned you up.

“Does she have your platinum blonde hair?” You asked, a curious smile splitting your face wide open.

“Yes.” The president nodded. “She has both my light blonde hair and blue eyes.”

“You're going to be beating all the boys off with a stick in about, eh, 13 or so years.” You knowingly giggled right as the nurse appeared with your bundle of joy wrapped in a soft pink blanket and matching hat.

Handing you your daughter, the nurse asked, “What's her name?”

“Cersei.” You and Coryo answered at the same time, looking at your daughter with nothing but love.

Honestly, you were a bit nervous about how Coryo would be as a father since, after all, he had a lot on his plate as the president of the country. But it turns out that you didn't have anything to worry about. Coriolanus was a great father. He was very hands-on despite his strenuous and busy job being President of Panem.

The president always made time for his daughter and, of course, for you.

And when you went out in public, he was always by your side when wheeling your baby in the stroller. So many paparazzis would hide and flash pictures of President Snow with your daughter because it was the only way to get a picture of them together. Coryo never used Cersei for photo ops or publicity stunts. In fact he rarely talked about her at all interviews other then the general and polite answers of, “Oh, she's doing well.”, “Cersei's a happy girl.”, and “She’s hitting all of her milestones.”

Honestly, Coryo didn't like to talk too much about his daughter because he didn't want her in the limelight. He chose to become the president and you chose to become his first lady. You both knew the fame that came with it. But Cersei was born into it and your husband, President Coriolanus Snow, wanted her to have as normal of a childhood as possible.

And then, when your daughter was 3, you got pregnant again. Well, you and Coriolanus weren't trying, but weren't preventing either.

You were too far along yet, just nearing your 4th month. You knew that soon you'd be blowing into the size of a balloon tho.

But you weren't thinking about that right now.

Right now, you were just smiling at the sight of your daughter curled up on your husband's lap as he read her a book during one of his breaks from his office in the presidential wing of the mansion.

“Daddy?” Your daughter, whose platinum blonde hair was in little piggy tales, asked- causing your husband to pause in his reading.

It was cute how Coriolanus melted the first time he was called Dada and decided to let his daughter call him Daddy as she grew despite telling you over and over again during your pregnancy with her that he was going to be called father or nothing at all.

She's like Cersei has your husband wrapped around her finger.

“Yes, princess?” Coryo asked your daughter, looking at her with a genuine smile.

“Mama’s here.” She excitedly told your husband with a big smile on her face.

Coryo looked up, only to tell your daughter, “Oh, so she is.” Waving you into the room, your husband said, “Come in and sit down, darling. You don't need to stand in the doorway.”

“Oh, don't mind me, I was just walking down the hall and thought that I'd just check in on my favorite people while on my way to get a snack.” You told your husband, shrugging off his offer of you joining him and your daughter in the sun room.

“Mama, I want a snack!” Cersei exclaimed.

Coryo chuckled, only to close the book he was reading and place it onto the side table by his sitting chair. Standing up, with your daughter slung on his hip, the president announced, “Looks like a family snack time’s in order before I get back to work being the President Panem.”

When Cersei was almost 4, you had your son, Cassian Xandros. Then when she was 5 you had another son, Caspian Xenos and when she was 7 you had your last child. Another son, who was named Caelestis Xanthias.

Even tho Coriolanus had not 1 but 3 boys to carry on the mighty and magnificent Snow name, it was your daughter, Cersei, that was his favorite child.

Coriolanus was a good father to all 4 of your children, but it was your daughter that had him wrapped around his finger. She was daddy's little princess. She could do no wrong in his eyes.

But your boys…oh boy…Your son's had to be perfect unless they wanted to hear Coriolanus lecture them. He expected straight A’s and top marks in school from his 3 boys. Expected them to be involved in school politics, chess club, and the debate team. And when it came time for them to be mentors in the Hunger Games for a district that didn't have a Victor to act as a mentor, well you better believe that they had to be perfect at that too.

But not Cersei. Oh no… Coryo let Cersei get away with shit that he'd never let Cassian Xandros, Caspian Xenos, and Caelestis Xanthias get away with.

Cersei didn't want to be a mentor, so guess what? Her daddy, President Snow, let her stay home sick during the games so her mentor spot had to be given to somebody else. If she wanted to quit ballet lessons after just one lesson, saying it wasn't fun, then she could. She could get away with anything she wanted to, because your husband let her.

Coriolanus spoiled his daughter rotten.

And one day, as a young woman, when Cersei went running to her daddy saying that she was in trouble (knocked up) and that the Peacekeeper that got her in that condition didn't want the responsibility of a family, you know what Coriolanus did? He just told your daughter that he'd take care of everything.

And boy did he ever…

He had tea with that peacekeeper, where only one of them walked away from the garden tea table alive, and scattered the man's family all over the districts. Making sure that his younger siblings, nieces, nephews, cousins, etc were reaped when eligible.

Coriolanus also assured your daughter that you and him would help her raise her baby. That she'd have your support and wouldn't be alone.

So, when Cersei gave birth to her daughter, Celeste Snow, as a single mother you and Coryo were by her side. Assuring her that everything was fine, that she was going to be a great mother.

You had a sense of deja vu whenever the nurses all gossiped and giggled about how President Snow was such a good father and grandfather to be for staying by his daughter's side and supporting her despite her being an unwed mother.

Coriolanus was a great father to all of your children, but his favorite was your daughter Cersei. So, naturally, his favorite grandchild was her only daughter Celeste. He dotes on your granddaughter Celeste. She was the apple of his eye, even when the boys started getting married and having children of their own.

Coriolanus loved all his grandchildren, but Celeste was his favorite.

You on the other hand didn't have favorites. You loved all of your children and grandchildren equally.

But Coryo wasn't like you. No, your husband was the type to love obsessively, so he had to pick favorites.

So, it didn't surprise you when one day, before the games started, you walked into the sunroom to see your granddaughter and your husband having brunch. It reminded you of how he used to read to her mother all those years ago.

He might be older now with pure white hair, a distinguished white beard framing his face, and a bit more weight on his bones, but he was the same man in spirit he was all those years ago when he used to cut time out of his day just for your daughter. Now he just does it for his granddaughter.

“Grandpa, Grandma just walked in.” Celeste announced, peeling little shell pieces off of her soft boiled egg.

“I see that, darling.” Coryo told your granddaughter. Looking at you, he gestured to the empty seat next to him at the table and suggested, “Why don't you join me, my darling rose.”

“Well, I wasn't planning to, but if you insist.” You smiled, walking further into the room.

Your eyes saw the way Celeste had her hair done in a braid, that looked like the one that Victor from 12 Katniss Everdeen wore and you secretly hoped that your husband wouldn't yell at her for it. You knew how much he couldn't stand the Everdeen girl and feared that he'd be upset with Celeste for wearing her hair like the victor's.

As you sat down, you heard your husband say, “Your hair looks lovely darling, when did you start wearing it like that?”

“Everybody at school wears it like this now, grandpa.” Celeste said with a little devious smile on her face.

And the backlash never came. He just nodded his head and went on to eat his egg.

And that's when you knew that Celeste had the same power over him that Cersei did. That you had as well.

Coriolanus Snow might be a cold, evil, dictator of a president, but to his granddaughter, daughter, and wife he's just a man that loves them unconditionally to the point where it might be considered a weakness if anyone knew.

And perhaps that's why he never speaks much about his girls in interviews. He'll speak about his boys, but not his girls.

Because if anything ever happened to his girls, well…the president wouldn't know what to do with him.

That's how much he loves his darling girls.

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22, @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503 @shari-berri, @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak, @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons, @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1, @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88, @v-love

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theemporium · 6 months

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💰 sugar daddy Carlos finally getting you to agree to spoiling you on your birthday and you come home with a puppy

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

It was one thing for you to accept gifts from Carlos, but it was a whole other fiasco to get you to buy something for yourself with his money.

Though it was a miniscule issue, it had been an ongoing one throughout your relationship. Carlos could buy you the world: he could shower you with expensive jewellery, pretty dresses and the finest wines the vineyards in Spain had to offer. He could swoop you up and take you on spontaneous holidays. He could send you a different bouquet of flowers every hour of the day.

But the second he put his card in your hand and told you to spoil yourself, you would scramble back into your shell.

For reasons beyond Carlos’ understanding, you hated using his money on yourself. It was one thing for him to gift you something he bought with his money, he was the buffer in the situation. However, for you to actively use his money right from the source to buy yourself something? You would rather throw yourself in front of his car.

It had been an ongoing argument that spread over the duration of your relationship. It would be brought up at the most random times. Sometimes it was a few comments thrown back and forth, and sometimes it led to hours of talking it over and not quite reaching a conclusion.

Carlos was at his wits end when one night you finally agreed to use his card for something.

He had been buzzing all weekend. He unfortunately had to leave early the next morning for a race weekend, but he spent the few days he was away just imagining what you were spoiling yourself with. He was shocked to see more than one purchase go through, his giddiness growing with each bing from his banking app.

He could hardly contain his excitement when he landed back home on Monday night, dumping his bags by the door and quickly making his way to wherever you were so he could see what you had spoiled yourself with.

However, his steps fell short when he heard a bark he didn’t recognise.

“Surprise!”

Carlos looked at the massive grin on your face, spread from ear to ear, before his eyes fell to the bundle of fluff in your arms. Chocolate brown curls that covered its entire body, the small puppy in your arms looked more like a teddy than an actual animal. The puppy was just twice the size of your hand and it hardly looked real as you cuddled it to your chest.

“You bought a dog?” were the first words to leave Carlos’ mouth as he tried to wrap his head around everything. “But I saw so many—”

“He needed toys,” you answered with a sheepish smile on your face, scratching behind the ears of the happy puppy. “Bear is a needy guy.”

Carlos raised his brows, though he was unable to hold back his grin. “Bear?”

“That’s his name,” you said, unashamed.

Carlos shook his head as he closed the distance between you both, smiling as the little puppy lightly nibbled on the tips of his fingers. “When you said you would spoil yourself, I was expecting a pretty dress, not a pretty puppy.”

“This is me spoiling myself with something I really wanted,” you argued, leaning up to peck his cheeks, almost amused by the way his skin flushed in response. “Thank you.

“No, thank you for finally using my card,” Carlos hummed as he leaned down to kiss you. “Even if it was for our son.”

“It was a family purchase,” you grinned back at him.

#cece's slumblurb party #carlos sainz #formula one #f1 #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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ollie-lolly · 1 year

Text

18+ Obey me cast smut headcanons

18+ Don't take my warnings lightly love~

most of Obey me cast x gender neutral reader

Warnings: My opinion, dark kinks, swearing, talking about smut in detail, minors don't interact

Note: Consent is important kids! In all these situations consent is used. Later side characters are not displayed here, since I am not at that part in the story. Reblogs and constructive criticism is always appreciated!

Concept: How I believe sex would be like with the characters! A lot of these are shared opinions by the Obey Me community.

Word count: 858~

Lucifer

-Hard dom for sure

-Will sub for you under certain circumstances

-R.I.P the bed

-Uses you as a stress reliever (with consent)

-Loves tying you up

-Daddy kink

-Brat tamer

-Secretly likes it when you act out

-Is willing to share you with Diavolo

Mammon

-Switch but with a sub lean

-Loves lap dances

-Wil try to use money during sex

-Strip games, especially poker

-Would love a sugar daddy/mommy lifestyle

-Would love being the sugar daddy but would also love you playing that role

-Praise kink 100%

-Will want cuddles for a long time afterwards

-You are his human. No one else's, so sharing is off the table

-Just really wants to make you happy

-Loves watching you play with yourself

-Also is a brat in the sheets, if ya catch my drift

-Loves the pain <3

Leviathan (This being very long is my way of saying happy birthday to my baby boy <3)

-I also believe he is a switch with a sub lean

-Tail fucking

-Two cocks

-Underwear thief

-Loves being degraded and praised so…go to town!

-Needs constant reassurance so please give him some.

-A great way of easing him into it, is sexting and phone sex

-All the hentai he has seen definitely fucked his expectations up

-He also got like a couple of dark kinks because of it

-Hentai addiction, but will imagine you as one of the characters

-Is really into cuckolding, but is too shy to say anything about it

-When figuring out a kink you have to help him out since he is too shy to talk about it

-Does not last long in the beginning, but you can help him build it up over time

-There is a good chance that he is a virgin. He does masturbate a lot though

-PERVERT

-You have to start intimate moments because of his insecurities

-That being said, when he is jealous that is definitely not the case

-Will want to have sex in the infamous bathtub

-Whether it is actually going to happen is up too you

-But if you are willing to do it in said bathtub he will put tons of soft blankets and mattresses in there

-Role play

-When he role plays as a character he likes he is way more confident

Satan

-Hard dom just like his daddy

-Uses you as a way to relive his anger and frustration which is often

-Always with consent

-Pet play <3

-Cockwarming while reading -Fucks you while reading

-Reads smut in public places

-Also fucks in public places <3

-The library is a popular pick, so uhh have fun?

Asmodeus

-The definition of a switch

-This man has tried it all

-Certified sex god

-A sex toy collection larger then Diavolo's castle

-Voyourism and exhibitionist

-Would be the most likely to share you sexually

-Especially with Solomon

-VERY experimental

-Very high sexdrive so goodluck!

-Has his little checklist in his room of where you have and haven't fucked yet

-Moans his own name

Beelzebub

-The definition of a service top

-Food play

-Good at head

-He is super sweet and gentle with you

-Is obviously willing to share you with Belphegor

-2 for 1 deal!

-Will suggest doing it in at the gym or sport locker rooms

-Does not like to do it often, but will do it more if you want to!

Belphegor

-Switch

-Hard dom and power bottom

-60% of the time will let you do most of the work

-A wild card you never know what to expect

-Might play with the concept with consent

-Knive play

-What i am trying to say, is that he likes his sex dark if that makes sense

-Has fantasies of kidnapping you with Beel

-Will use his powers to make you dream about sex

-Gets turned on when he sees you sleeping

-Will fuck you when you are asleep if you give him your blessing

Diavolo

-Soft dom

-R.I.P the bed and the floor, and.. you get the jist

-This man fucks and he fucks HARD

-Breeding kink

-Please read my sugar daddy fics of this man to get a better idea of how he is like

Barbatos

-Also a service dom

-Will stop in the middle of sex if Diavolo or visitors need him

-He is a busy man, so don't expect a lot

-Tail fucking

-This man is a mystery, so he will definitely keep you on your toes

Simeon

-Switch?? Maybe soft dom

-We don't have enough in game material to make confident statements

-The only way you would get there is by a very very very motivated corruption kink

-Congrats! You made him fall from grace

-Will still keep a lot of his angelic traits when he falls. He will be gentle

-Secretly has a lot of pent up anger so good luck with that

Solomon

-Switch

-He is a wild card man (just like Belphegor)

-You can never quite expect what is going to happen next

-Definitely puts his powers to good use

-If you are okay with it, he will invite Asmo to join in

-May or may not be your side hoe when you are in the human realm for a little too long

(Plz i need someone to write about this and tag me)

Started on and finished on: 8th of april 2023

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ghouljams · 5 days

Text

'Til Death (Remember Me in Your Will)

Rating: Mature (Minors Do Not Interact) Words: 3.7k Tags: David "Hesh" Walker/F!Reader, Sugar Daddy au, Dom/sub undertones, flirting Summary: You start dating Hesh as a way to supliment your income. It's not like you've never sugared before, you know how to play this game. It's just too bad Hesh seems to have his own ideas about what this relationship is. Next Chapter > ao3

You’ve always been smart. You don’t know if you’ve always been pretty, but you try not to be too harsh on your younger self. You also have bills to pay. You’re fortunate enough to be doing what you love, working a job you’re passionate about, and getting paid shit all for it. Luckily you’re not the one paying your bills. You have sugar daddies for that.

Like you said, pretty, and smart enough not to rely on one stream of cash. You have a couple men you sugar for, all old enough to make sure they know you’re not looking for love, and with enough experience to get you off at the end of the night. It’s a good situation, everyone gets what they want, and you don’t worry about your job paying you barely above minimum wage. When one man drops you, you hit up your favorite sites for another. Which is how you got here, staring at Hesh with a cup of coffee held tight between your hands and a hangover that throbs like a lobotomy.

What you don’t know is how he got in, but you’re more focused on his offer than anything else. Drop the other men you sugar for to be his exclusively, and he’ll double every dollar they pay you monthly. You’re not greedy by any stretch of the word, but your mouth waters at the proposal. That’s a lot of money he’s laying on the table.

“And what about sex?” You ask him. It’s been months of dating him, and Hesh still hasn’t touched you. In fact the smoldering tension between you has made all your other relationships feel cold. Forcing you to rely on your toys after sex these days when your other daddies fail to perform. That doesn’t mean you want to cut it off cold turkey. You can’t, not when he still makes you throb eagerly even with the hangover migraine. If he doesn’t want you, there’s no deal.

There’s something steely in Hesh’s eyes when he leans forward, his elbows settling on his knees. His smile is wicked, predatory, it makes goosebumps prickle over your skin. Your blood runs hot, and follows his eyes as they drop to stare between your legs.

“Baby,” He purrs, “I’ll fuck you over this table right now, all you gotta do is say yes to me.”

(six months ago)

You check your makeup in your compact mirror. Not your favorite, but you find the men you date appreciate the femininity of it. There’s something terribly alluring about swiping your pinky over the corners of your lips with a compact mirror in hand, and you don’t get that sort of sex-out-of-the-bag flavor with your phone camera. You really need all the cards you can get tonight too. You’ve got a date with a new man, a new sugar daddy. You don’t usually go for them when they’re this close in age to you, but he seemed nice, and paid in advance(no strings attached), so you’re taking the chance on him. He offered to pick you up, but… you’re not about to get trapped in a car with a man you don’t know. It’s better having a quick escape route if the date goes south.

You snap your compact shut and tuck it neatly back into your purse when you spot your date. He hands his keys to the restaurant’s valet, and offers you a smile. He’s wearing a suit, you expected as much with the caliber of restaurant he suggested, but it’s nice being dressed up for. You hold your hand out in greeting as his long strides carry him close. You’re pleasantly surprised when his fingers grip yours and raise your hand to his lips. He just grazes your knuckles, his eyes heavy on yours as he kisses your hand. They’re green, you note. Not just his eyes either, his suit too. It’s so dark you’d mistaken it as black, but it’s green, and it makes his eyes positively electric looking.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” He smiles, dropping his hold on your hand and slipping his around your back as you turn to walk into the restaurant.

“I just got here,” A white lie, you got here with ten minutes to spare, never early or late for the men you date. Your date hums, his thumb rubbing against the small of your back, right where the zipper of your dress ends. His hand splays wide, his pinky grazing the swell of your ass. It sends a little shiver through you, the touch quickly removed as your date gives his name to the host.

“Walker.” He voice, sure and even, louder than the intimate softness of his voice when he’d greeted you, makes something warm slither down your spine.

“David Walker,” you feel the name over your tongue, adding the last name to the one he’d had on his profile. You feel the way his attention slips back to you heavily, it may as well be another hand with the warmth that it draws over you.

“My friends call me Hesh,” He sounds proud, but not like he’s puffing out his chest. There’s no bragging to the nickname, just the simple exchange of information.

He settles his hand on your back again when the host leads you to your table. The firm pressure not pushing you, not hurrying you, but steadying you. You wonder if he doubts your ability to walk in the heels you picked, or if he’s simply the touchy sort. You suppose you’ll figure it out soon enough. He pulls your chair out like a gentleman, helps you scoot in to the table, and takes his seat across from you without a wasted movement. You’ve never met a man that seemed so immediately comfortable in his own skin.

You suppose that comes with the territory. The men that pay you, pay you for a reason. You’re arm candy, or a kink, or an easy lay that’s a step better than a prostitute for men too important to “date down”. You know all sorts of men, but Hesh… Hesh seems like he could find a partner easily. Maybe it’s a time issue. You’ve only dealt with some of those. The type of man that doesn’t have the time in his life for dating. You slot the possibility into your mental file for Hesh, and settle your elbows on the table, leaning against them with a smile.

“So,” You draw the word out, give him time to eye the way your breasts push together against the low cut of your dress, “how was your day?”

It’s a simple question, one that never feels out of place, but busy men will always talk about their work. Hesh’s eyes drag over you, flicking to meet yours from their brief rest on your chest. He smiles, taking the menu set in front of him to look over as he speaks.

“I’m in the military if that’s what you’re askin’.” You feel yourself falter a little, regaining your composure, your smile, when he glances up at you.

“You must be busy,” You try, keeping your tone interested but light. You dislike intelligent men, the ones that can see through you, see through your questions, it makes it harder to play the game when both sides know the rules. But a date is a date.

“Hard to date with deployment looming,” He admits, or perhaps supplies, helping you build your mental catalog for him. You nod, you can see that. It would certainly make it hard to keep someone around without an incentive, hence the use of a sugar baby. Ah, got it. You file him neatly into the correct box and reach for your water glass.

“I can imagine,” You raise a brow, taking a sip, busy men like talking. Busy men tell you about themselves, what they can do for you, what you should do for them, how busy they are and how little time they have for you, as if you’re meant to be grateful for every second they allow you.

Hesh waits. He sits patiently, watching you with interest as you swipe your thumb over the lipstick stain you’ve left on the rim of the glass. He’s quiet, observant. Unnerving. Busy men talk, and Hesh isn’t talking. He’s watching, taking you in like he has all the time in the world. He sets his menu down and laces his fingers together on the table. You wish you couldn’t feel the hesitance in your fingers as you take another sip of your water, delaying the inevitable.

“Do I make you nervous,” He asks after your third sip. There’s a keen evenness to his tone, low and deep enough to shiver goosebumps over your skin. You set your water down and plaster on a smile that feels as fake as you’re sure it must look.

“Of course not.”

“You done this before sweetheart?”

“Sugar?” You can feel Hesh’s hum, the warmth of it spreads through your chest, his eyes soft and his smile inquisitive. “Once or twice.” You lie.

“Once or twice,” He turns the words back to you. An interrogation technique you often employ during these sorts of things. It works though. You bite down the need to correct him, to tell him maybe it’s more than just once or twice.

“It’s hard to pay the bills with just my work.” You explain, though you’re not sure why. Something in your stomach flutters to explain yourself to this man, the desire shakes itself through your bones. He reaches for his own water glass, draws the moment out as you watch his Adam's apple bob with the motion of swallowing. You've done this a good dozen times, but no one has put you on your toes as quickly as Hesh has. You take the moment to give him a once over. There's a slight shadow over his jaw, we'll groomed stubble that feeds its way into close cropped brown hair. Young-ish, with an age to his eyes that makes you wonder what he's been through, what he's seen. He's just at what you would call “acceptably older” if you were actually dating him, but he still wears his youth in the gleam of his smile. He watches you like a hawk, and you in turn watch him like a rabbit.

“Non-profit, right?” Hesh confirms, and you nod, before quickly giving a verbal affirmative. Verbal answers are more confident, and you've done this too many times to be losing your confidence now. Hesh is outside of your normal routine, but a sugar daddy is a sugar daddy, and at the end of the day they all want one thing. A pretty thing on their arm. They don't care about what you do or who you are, as long as you go home with them at the end of the night. “Do you enjoy it?”

The question takes you off guard. Or, not the question itself, you've heard that a hundred times at least, it's the genuine interest disguised behind an impassive smile. You blink at him.

“I-” you don't give details about your work, they don't want details, you give the necessary ‘yes’ and move on to talking about him or playing footsie under the table, “I do it’s-”

Your waiter stops beside the table, and you feel Hesh's attention leave you like a weight falling off your chest. He speaks with conviction, orders wine for the both of you, and where you usually feel as though that sort of move is right out of a “how to show women you’re the boss 101” handbook, on him it feels natural. He’s used to commanding attention, to giving orders. No wasted breath, no wasted words. Hesh orders and you wonder if he’ll do the same for your meal.

“What did you say you did in the military?” You ask when the waiter leaves, and Hesh’s eyes feel all the heavier on you for your interest.

“We were talking about you,” He corrects. The way he sits and looks at you show a man that holds not just himself to high standards, but everyone else as well. The weight of his full attention is crushing now that you’ve felt it leave you, and yet it sparks something in you. A desire to please. A desire to live up to those expectations.

He’s here for you, you don’t want to disappoint him.

You’ve never had a conversation with a man who makes you feel so aware of yourself. You can feel the brush of fabric against your skin like a touch, and each breath you take seems to tease you as your dress pulls over your chest. And his eyes… He touches every inch of exposed skin he can with them, drawing warmth over you until you’re positively alight with want. You have to excuse yourself to the restroom. He stands with you, old school manners you’ve only seen in movies, and offers a hand to help you around the table. You think you feel the brush of his fingers over your hip, his touch burning through you even when you must have imagined it.

You fix your makeup in the bathroom mirror, attempt to clean up some of the mess you’re making in your panties. God. It’s been so long since you had a date that stoked the fire low in your stomach, a man that looked at you like something to be desired not just a sure thing. When’s the last time your date seemed so interested in you, asked questions to further your answers, brought up topics that related to something you’d mentioned and not just something he could brag about? When’s the last time you had a good date with a hot guy and weren’t worried about whether it would be worth your time?

God have you really not thought about the money this whole time? You’d been so swept up in the way Hesh spoke to you, the way he looked at you, that you couldn’t think of anything else. Even now you can’t help thinking of the way he’d purred, “Anythin’ you want,” when you’d asked what to order. The memory of his voice makes you press your thighs together. You want to know what he’d say to you without the filter of public decency. You want to know how he’d touch you behind closed doors.

He stands again when you make your way back to the table, waits for you to sit before taking his seat. You notice he’s barely touched his food since you left, only picking up his knife and fork when you do. You slot “slow eater” into your folder on him. It doesn’t matter you suppose, he sips his wine, always pours another swallow for you when you run low, and yet he seems to finish with you. His food is gone just a bite after yours is, and he leans against the table as the waiter whisks your plates away. Like he’s waiting for something.

It’s easy to slide your foot against his calf, easy to see the heat that burns in his eyes. You’re careful of your heel, but you’re well practiced in this game. He wants you, you know he wants you. That’s how these things work, pick a pretty girl off the site and take her home at the end. You get first right of refusal and some extra cash in your pocket, he gets to boast about the pretty thing he’s screwing.

“You hopin’ for something sweetheart?” Hesh catches your ankle under the table, firm fingers stopping you from trailing past his knee. His tone is casual, playful, his grip is not. “Gotta use your words like a big girl.”

“I’m hoping we can get the check,” You purr. Your dates usually rush for it, signal the waiter as quickly as they can to shuffle you into the back seat of their car, or the nearby hotel. You don’t think you’ve had a date ever end at dinner, the same way you’re sure you’ve never had a dinner last quite as long as this.

“We?” Hesh smiles, his thumb rubs your ankle, the friction making you shiver, “You offerin’ to split the bill little one?”

“Of course not Daddy,” the title falls from your lips with an invitation to touch further. You try not to stretch too obviously into his grip, feel the slip of your skirt as his fingers push up over your calf like a curtain drawing the evening to an end, “Just thought you might like to have dessert elsewhere.”

Hesh’s hand is warm and appreciative as it strokes your leg. You feel the drag of calluses, rough palms skating over your soft skin, and wonder how those thick fingers will feel once they’re inside you. Men like him… they like when you��re a little bold, they like knowing that you’re not too shy to avoid falling into bed on the first date. You’ve honed your edge against the predictability of the men you date, and you know you’re right by the way he catches the waiter’s eye and taps his fingers against the table.

You settle into the warm feeling of victory, and the knowledge that you’ve snagged another source of income. Not to mention the added benefit of sex. Hesh touches you with an idle sort of intimacy that makes heat throb between your legs, he touches you like it’s his right to, like he holds command over the how and when of it. You don’t think he’s the sort of man people often say ‘no’ to.

He drags his fingers over your shin, settling your foot against his knee as he takes his hand from under the table to take the check. It’s a bit of a stretch, the burn in your hamstring of keeping yourself looking presentably seated while still abiding by his placement is a wonderful precursor for the night ahead. You keep your eyes on him as he pays with barely a glance at the bill as he hands the waiter his card. The whisper of wealth. No, you don’t think people say ‘no’ to Hesh often. If ever.

Hesh slips his card back into his wallet as he stands, and moves around the table to offer you his hand. You don’t need it, but you like the way his fingers curl around yours, the firm grip he holds you with as you stand. You brush your hands over your skirt, letting the hem fall back into place. You don’t miss the way Hesh’s eyes follow the sway of your chest as you lean forward. Men are all alike, perfectly predictable.

You press close to his side, letting him feel the soft curves of your body as he leads you out of the restaurant. He hands the valet his ticket and you make a mental note to call one of your friends to come grab your car. Although you suppose you don’t have to spend the night, you can uber back here in an hour or so and grab it. The restaurant staff know you well enough they can let you park here for a bit.

“Are we going back to yours or finding a hotel?” You can’t say you aren’t interested in seeing where he lives, but a hotel is closer, and you’re ready to go.

“Neither,” Hesh hums, “you’re going home.”

He’s not- he’s not interested? Your confusion must read too clearly on your face because Hesh’s hand finds your waist and drags you close. You tip your head to avoid bumping your nose against him and he takes the motion as permission to kiss you. His lips searing yours as his hand squeezes the meat of your hip. You’re quick to wrap your arms around his shoulders, quick to press against the length of him, your chest to his, your hips to his. You can feel the thick twitch of his cock where you push yourself against it. (Fuck is that all him?) He’s like a furnace, radiating warm want that soaks into your skin. The night air feels freezing on your exposed skin

Hesh’s lips part, his breath a sigh as his head tips. The soft push of his lips against yours is exceedingly gentle for the hunger you can taste behind it. It shivers down your spine, aches in the creek of Hesh’s grip on your hips, a want that you can’t quantify. Your lips slide over his, his stubble tickling you a little as you part and kiss, part and kiss, again and again.

He presses, forces you to lean back, arching into him. You’re reliant on him to keep you standing, trusting your balance to a man you barely know. It makes your skin prickle, makes you want. You wiggle your hips, try to entice him to give you what you know he’s looking for, even slip your tongue in the part of his lips. His fingers tighten until you squeak with pain and pull away from the kiss.

He pulls you up, lets you go to take his keys from the valet. You can still feel his spit slicking your top lip, the tingle of his stubble against your bottom. You balk, the dark fabric of his suit does enough to hide the outline of his cock in the low light but you know what you felt. How can he just leave you like this?

“You’re serious.” You realize, and Hesh pauses with his hand on the top of his car.

“I am,” No wasted words. You hesitate, worry your lip between your teeth before you can stop yourself. Hesh waits you out, patient as a saint.

“But I thought-” You try to blink through your confusion, “I thought this went well.”

“It did,” Hesh smiles and it isn’t patronizing or pitying, but there’s something in it that doesn’t feel entirely friendly, “I’d like to get to know you better, that’s all sweetheart.”

You frown. The first genuine expression you’ve given him all night and it’s a furrowed brow. You fix your face before you lose the next date to your pouting. Hesh’s brows are heavy, his eyes lidding as he watches you. There is something dark and unreadable in the way he looks at you, something heady that makes you dumb. The chill rushes to you when he looks away, climbs into his car, and leaves.

#cod x reader #x reader #david walker #david hesh walker #david hesh walker x reader #hesh walker #hesh walker x reader #hesh cod #cod hesh #hesh x reader #sugar daddy!Hesh #f!reader

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suzukiblu · 6 months

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Day twenty-one of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

“Sure,” Tim says in a mostly-reasonable imitation of a normal person who is not in a good ten feet over their head, taking the seat Kon left him. Kon flashes him another grin and unzips his jeans. He is still wearing his suit underneath them. It still does not even slightly matter to Tim’s stupid idiot hormones.

He tries not to stare at Kon stripping off his boots and jeans, but absolutely, undeniably fails. The situation is not improved when Kon turns his back towards him and smirks back over his shoulder at him.

“Unzip me?” he asks, the bastard. Tim does not in any way believe he needs the help unzipping his suit, but also Tim is a stupid idiot with stupid idiot hormones and he does, in fact, lean forward on the bench and reach up to do so. He pulls Kon’s zipper down his spine and, miraculously, does not spontaneously combust in the process.

New information: Kon doesn’t wear any kind of underlayer under his suit. At least not over his torso, anyway. Which Tim supposes shouldn’t be a surprise, but certainly is something he’s noticing right now.

He can’t even decide if he’s hoping for him to be wearing underwear or not. He should be hoping for him to be wearing it, given they’re here to try on clothes and that’s therefore kind of necessary, but . . .

Kon strips the rest of his suit off. He is, unfortunately, wearing boxer briefs. Very small and very tight boxer briefs, but boxer briefs all the same. Tim tries not to stare at Kon’s ass and then immediately encounters the larger problem of accidentally looking at Kon’s reflection in the changing room mirror, which offers the opportunity to stare at other things that belong to Kon. Like his chest. And his abs. And his Adonis belt and–

Fuck his life, Tim thinks feelingly, barely resisting the urge to cover his eyes before he can embarrass himself. He’s already embarrassing himself; it is way too damn late for anything like that to help.

“What should I try on first?” Kon asks. Tim, in mute panic, grabs the first thing off the top of the pile and shoves it at him. Kon, unfortunately, accepts it.

More unfortunately, it turns out to be a very clingy black T-shirt with a very deep V-neck. Kon doesn't have actual cleavage, obviously, but that T-shirt has not gotten the memo.

And apparently neither have his pecs.

Fuck, Tim thinks with great feeling, still barely resisting the urge to cover his eyes. Fuuuuuck.

“Hmmm,” Kon says, tugging at the dip of the V-neck with a finger. “What do you think? My color or naw?”

Tim is suffering. There is a hell and he is currently in it, right here and now.

“Black isn’t a particularly daring color choice, most people look good in it,” he says, clearing his throat. “The fit’s nice, though.”

“Fair enough,” Kon says, plucking at the collar again and then stripping the shirt off. While facing Tim. Directly. So Tim therefore has a front-row seat to his bare abs stretching and flexing and–

Jesus. Just–Jesus.

“Next?” Kon asks, holding out an expectant hand and smirking at him.

Bastard.

Tim, in vengeance, hands over the leather pants. It immediately backfires, because Kon just smirks wider and steps right into them, and in fact the process of watching Kon get into leather pants is . . . well, it's a fucking process, alright. And then Tim is alone in a changing room with a shirtless Kon in very tight leather pants and absolutely no one else around to interrupt. Not a single convenient supervillain attack to be seen.

Fuck, Tim reflects with great feeling.

“Guess this still isn’t a very daring color choice, huh?” Kon asks, tugging casually at his own waistband. Tim's teeth would also like to do that, please. Like. He has never done that to anyone's waistband in his life, but he would like to start. Right now, ideally. “Maybe I should've gone for something else.”

“They look alright,” Tim says, desperately trying not to choke and die. He may or may not have had to put one of the shopping bags in his lap. Kon seems unconcerned and just twists to check out his ass in the mirror. His ass which is in very tight black leather. With belts. And buckles.

And straps.

Tim is disproportionately fixated on the straps, maybe.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer,” Kon tells him with a smug grin.

“I . . . kinda want to?” Tim admits helplessly, then winces at himself. Oh, that was the literal opposite of smooth. Kon laughs anyway, though.

“Oh do you now,” he purrs teasingly. “Is that why you were so concerned about getting me a phone with a good camera, pretty boy?”

“. . . technically it only matters if my phone has a good camera in that situation,” Tim points out, and Kon actually pouts at him. It’s clearly a put-on, since he’s still half-smirking, but it’s a pout all the same.

“Aw, you don't want me to send you any pics, Tim?” he asks.

Tim might be, like, dead now. That might be a thing. He might just be dead.

“Uh,” he says, blinking rapidly a few times in a desperate attempt to make his brain do literally anything but go down that particular avenue.

“These are a little tight, though,” Kon muses casually as he looks back down to the pants in the mirror, and then smooths a hand down his thigh because he apparently wants Tim to die. The bright fluorescent lights glint across his earring and make those inhumanly blue eyes even more undeniably inhumanly blue, and also make all his muscle definition all very, very visible.

Technically, Kon has muscles like these because he's a genetically-enhanced half-alien who's all jacked up on solar power. Tim is perfectly aware of that fact. A normal unenhanced human being built like this would probably need an assist from steroids and a ridiculously-specialized diet and to basically never leave the gym. And also probably they'd be at least a little bit dehydrated, to look this cut.

Tim can tell himself all that all that he likes, but Kon still looks like the bodybuilder edition of Playgirl right now.

“Since when do you mind tight?” he asks.

“I don't,” Kon says, sparing him another smirk. “But if I didn't make sure to keep my TTK on them 24/7, they'd probably rip. Leather's a little less forgiving than spandex, you know?”

Tim is fairly sure Kon said some words after “rip”, but fuck if he could tell anyone. He couldn't tell anyone with a gun to his head. He couldn't tell Batman.

Fucking hell.

“Then I'll buy you another pair,” he says reflexively. Kon laughs, ducking his head. He is still shirtless. Very, very shirtless.

“Man, I don't care what you think you owe me, you cannot possibly wanna buy me this much stuff,” he says.

Tim tries to figure out how to say “you're my teammate and ally and you deserve to be somewhere safe and taken care of and have everything you need” without actually saying “you're my teammate and ally and you deserve to be somewhere safe and taken care of and have everything you need”. It's difficult, mostly because the alternate and equally true answer is “I think I'm kind of getting off on this, actually”. Which is actually kind of weird and questionable of him even if Kon is flirting with him and acting kind of–

Yeah, he really needs to stop being weird about this.

“I have the money,” he says reasonably. “It’s not any harder for me than using your powers is for you. And I like doing it.”

“You like doing it?” Kon says, tilting his head. Possibly Tim should’ve phrased that differently. Or just not said it at all, more like.

“Yeah,” he says, then quickly changes the subject in self-defense. “And you did me a favor. I want to pay it back.”

“There’s ‘paying it back’ and there’s ‘signing a lease’, man,” Kon says, raising an eyebrow at him. “Like, you offered me an apartment.”

“If you’d let me I’d give you a fully-furnished apartment, bills and expenses, and an allowance,” Tim says wryly, and belatedly realizes that last one maybe sounds a little bit patronizing or weird when Kon–pauses.

“An allowance?” he repeats, just barely frowning.

“Yes,” Tim says, because fuck it, he’s committed now and trying to backtrack would just make it more awkward. If he acts like that was a normal offer to make, maybe Kon will buy it. It’s not like he doesn’t know his initial socialization and education came from a bunch of weird nerds in a lab. “You know, rent and bills and groceries and a little extra, so you don’t have to call me up every time you want something.”

“Because I saved your life?” Kon says, fidgeting with the button of his pants for a moment. Tim pretends not to notice. Pretends very hard not to notice. It’s . . . arguably a success. Maybe.

“Yes,” Tim lies. Kon’s saved his life plenty of times; it’s really not relevant to wanting to see him actually properly taken care of and not just ditched in a lab without any damn windows in it.

Seriously. Kon is solar-powered and Cadmus is underground. What advantage-taking idiots thought he belonged there?

“Just that?” Kon asks, biting his lip. Tim . . . pauses.

That’s a weird question, he thinks. It is, right?

He’s not sure how to answer it. He lies to Batman, so that’s not a concern, but . . .

But.

“Not just that,” he says after a moment, and just . . . doesn’t elaborate. Kon reddens a little, and then, weirdly, smiles a little. Tim does his damnedest to deal with the sight of him half-in civilian clothes and looking very, very touchable. Just–very close and touchable. He could just . . . reach right out. And touch him.

Kon’s just . . . very close right now, is all. Like . . . very, very close.

Fuck.

“Hi,” Kon says with a little smile, then steps forward right in-between Tim’s knees still half-dressed in black leather and belts and buckles and straps. Tim almost falls off the bench.

“Hi?” he tries. He very suddenly feels like he might be cooking in his own skin and maybe needs a couple decades to recover before he actually does die here. Because he definitely feels like he's about to die right now, oh god. Did Ivy pollen the mall? Maybe Ivy pollened the mall. Maybe–

Kon leans down over him and into his personal space, and Tim ends up with his back pressed against the changing room wall.

Nope, never mind. This is all him. This is exclusively a Tim problem. All Tim all the way. All Tim all the time.

Fuuuuuck.

“Uh,” he chokes in mortification, feeling his face absolutely burn. Kon braces a hand against the wall and very literally bats his eyes at him, the fucking bastard. He is . . . so attractive. So, so attractive. Like every kind of attractive Tim can currently envision and then some. Why is he so attractive? Why is he this far up in Tim’s space? Why is he–

Oh, fuck, Tim thinks.

“Oh my god, I in no way meant to make you think this was, like, a condition or–!” he starts to sputter in horror, and Kon cuts him off by putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing him up tighter against the wall with a very, very pleased smirk.

“Shut up and kiss me, you weird little nerd,” he says, and then leans in close enough to be kissed, his eyes soft and half-lidded and mouth still curved into that same pleased smirk. Tim’s brain shorts out entirely. Tim’s brain effectively electrocutes itself, actually.

Oh god, he thinks feebly.

He can’t kiss Kon, obviously. That would be a very stupid thing to actually do. Flirting and joking around is one thing, but actually kissing him . . .

Kon bites his lip, a little flicker of uncertainty reflecting in his eyes. Tim has been in literal death traps that were less upsetting than that little flicker.

“Okay,” he manages, useless and breathless, and then–like an idiot–kisses him.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young just us #young justice #long post #rinfic #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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xjustakay · 2 months

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✺ (3/27) ✺ @jegulus-microfic prompt: birthday — 1,009 words (jegulus dads ft. harry; sugary waffles and a very happy birthday for the world’s greatest dad —love, harry and regulus)

“Shhh, we have to keep quiet, darling,” Regulus whispers, shooting Harry an amused look.

Harry cups both hands around his mouth, whispers between them, “Sorry, papa.”

With a quiet snort, Regulus ruffles the mess of his dark hair —made even worse by the fact that they’ve only been awake and out of bed for all of thirty minutes. Getting ready for the day had been put on hold in favor of tiptoeing around the kitchen, being as quiet as humanly possible for a five year old who’s over-excited to make his dad waffles for his birthday. Regulus is under no illusion that James is actually still sleeping in their bed, but they’ll both pretend for the sake of their son.

“Should we put whipped cream on top?” Regulus suggests as he drops the fresh waffle onto a plate.

Harry nods hurriedly. “And rainbow sprinkles, and a cherry! Like a sundae!”

“Of course,” Regulus chuckles.

He follows the little boy’s giggled instruction, allowing Harry to be the one that tells him when to finally stop piling the whipped cream on (there’s more whipped cream than there is waffle, by that point). Regulus hands off the shaker of sprinkles, lets Harry take that over as well. In the middle of watching him, he notices his phone light up on the counter. Reaching for it and finding a message notification on the screen, his lips curl upward.

How bad is it?

Regulus eyes the mountain of whipped cream on top of the thick waffle on the plate. Harry has taken it upon himself to try to cover every inch of the sugar pile with rainbow sprinkles, tongue poked out between his teeth in concentration. It’s the same thing James unconsciously does while deeply focused and it warms something in Regulus’ chest to see it.

He snaps a quick, secret photo, unnoticed by the boy, and sends it off with no comment. The moving dots of a reply show up near-immediately.

Say goodbye to my abs, I guess

Regulus laughs a touch too loudly at the message, startling Harry out of his focus. With a furrowed brow, Harry lifts a hand, holding a finger to his mouth and shushing him.

“Too loud, papa,” He admonishes.

“Sorry, darling,” Regulus mutters, a grin unchanging from his face. “Maybe we’re finished with the sprinkles, yeah?”

Harry nods his head but continues shaking the container over one last section of the plate until he’s satisfied. He plops a bright red cherry on top of the colorful, sugary mess, then wide green eyes are looking up at Regulus.

“Do we have birthday candles?”

Regulus nods. “In the drawer by the sink.”

Before he can move to retrieve them, Harry scrambles off his stool and goes to do it for him. He comes scurrying back over, holding up the package for Regulus to take.

“How old is daddy now, papa?”

“He’s just turned thirty today,” Regulus answers, voice purposefully louder than moments before.

Exactly as expected, his phone buzzes with another message shortly after his voice carries from the kitchen.

Quit smiling about it

Regulus laughs quietly to himself, sends back a quick ‘never’ and tucks his phone in the pocket of his sweatpants. Despite Harry’s suggestion to try to fit all thirty candles on the melting pile of whipped cream, Regulus talks him down to just three. They’re very carefully situated and lit, Regulus balancing the plate on his palm to carry it down to the bedroom. Harry rushes ahead, feet thumping hurriedly on the hardwood before he pushes the door open.

James, bless him, is in fact pretending to be asleep still. His phone sits set aside on the nightstand, his arm tossed over his face where he’s sprawled dramatically in the center of the bed. Harry creeps around the side, tiptoeing once again and glancing back at Regulus behind him.

“Should we wake him?” Harry whispers.

James chooses that precise moment to make a loud snoring sound that send Harry clapping both little hands over his mouth to stifle his laugh. Regulus smiles widely, fond gaze flickering back and forth between his husband and his son. Harry looks at him expectantly once again and waits for a nod of approval before clambering up onto the bed.

He’s poised to pounce right on his father, wake him up enthusiastically, but before he’s given the chance, James jolts upright toward him with a playful roar. Harry squeals loudly, losing himself in a fit of giggles when he’s scooped into James’ arms, relentless fingers tickling at his sides.

“Papa, help!” Harry shrieks between peals of laughter.

“Papa can’t help you now,” James threatens jokingly.

Regulus snorts, shaking his head. “Okay, lit candles here, let’s settle for a minute, yeah?”

James finally gives Harry a reprieve, both of them breathless and pink in the face. Harry flops onto his back between James’ outstretched legs, the bedsheet tangled around one thick thigh and the opposite calf. James makes a ‘bring it here’ motion with his hand and Regulus steps forward, carefully perching on the side of the bed nearest to the two of them. Harry hauls himself into a sitting position, watching eagerly as Regulus holds the plate out in front of where James sits.

“You have to make a birthday wish, daddy!” Harry tells him.

“What, you’re not going to sing to me?” James replies.

“No,” Regulus says immediately, earning a loud laugh from his husband. “Blow out your candles, the whipped cream is melting.”

James sneers at him but adjusts his lopsided glasses to stare at the flickering candle flames. His hazel eyes dart to Harry in front of him, then to Regulus at his left. A wide smile stretches across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes, helpless adoration bright in his gaze.

He locks eyes with Regulus for a long moment, the two sharing a fond, knowing look. James doesn’t have to say a thing for Regulus to know what he’s thinking; what else is there to wish for, when this is what life looks like?

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #happy birthday to our favorite aries<3 #this sweet little family is all i got for today but #i love them a stupid amount :(#also i didn’t edit this even a little so if it’s a mess no it’s not ty #jeggy dads series #kay’s microfics #kay’s writing

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mvniro · 6 months

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. . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 PLEASE STRIP ME! ; a fyodor dostoyevsky fic. ❞

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . till date this fic remains one of my favs. fyodor is so hot ugh.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; sugar daddy!fyodor, sugar baby!reader, fem!reader nsfw, angst in the beginning, confessions, hurt to comfort ig, riding, nipple pinching and sucking, fyodor refers to himself as "daddy", uses of term "dumb doll", fyodor is hot, and that's all ig.

the twilight sky outside analyzed the situation and told the stars about it who twinkled in amusement, all of them finding pleasure in your misery, like the man you gave your heart to.

you glance at the clock on the wall and then huff, turning away from its direction as if the clock was the one behind your emotional state, as if it were the clock who played with your heartstrings as if your heart was an instrument.

it's nearly one in the night and you are still sitting on the luxurious bed with your back against the headboard, reminiscing about the first time you sat on this very bed and felt the same feeling of being an outcast, as if you are a foreign to this luxury -- which you are.

your hands gripped your silk night gown which reached till your midthighs, a very revealing and loose one at that. you bit your lip to produce pain which had the ability to divert your attention away from the aching in your heart.

alas, it worked but in ways you didn't expect. for the physical pain of harshly biting down on your bottom lip was the cheery on top needed by your brain to stimulate a signal which made the dams in your eyes open up, moistoning your eyes and blurring your vision.

at the same moment, the man behind this reaction tried to slowly open the door without making any noise but once he saw the lamp lights on beside the nightstand near the bed, he raised his eyebrows.

fyodor didn't expect you to be awake at this hour and he made sure you knew about this by the way he continued to look at you even while closing the door and walking towards you.

a heart heavier then your brain which is littered with opposing thoughts, you sit straight and look at fyodor, taking a deep breath for the oxygen will be knocked out of you very soon by your own heart.

"what is wrong? can't sleep? is the dress not to your liking?" voiced the man whose cold voice could put even snowy lands to shame, a man who held too much interest in his eyes but too little in his tone for fyodor dostoyevsky is an enigma. even to you who had been with him for more than a year now.

you do not answer, no, you can not. your eyes frantically scan over his features, those soft lips which you can kiss only in your dreams, that pale skin which makes you wonder just how good would it look with love bites, the sharp jaw you want to cup and kiss and lastly, those damned eyes.

the rich dark purple which shines brightly despite those tired looking eyes can captivate you, play you like a doll and you won't even realise for the one who admires the castle won't see the blood, sweat and tears of those who made it.

you gulp, your heart beat being the only sound you heard for a minute or two before you shook your head. ". . .i wanted . . . to talk to you."

why is your voice such a contrast to his? his confident voice puts your quiet and nervous one to shame.

fyodor hums, stepping towards his side of the bed as he lays down with a sigh and after mentally pushing yourself with the reminder that it's either now or never ; you swiftly move to be on top of fyodor, your knees planted on the soft mattress on either sides of his waist as you look down at him with sorrowful eyes.

"aren't i attractive to you? or am i not your type?" murmuring the harsh words which have been piercing your mind ever since you realised you fell for the very man who never kissed you, who made it clear that your presence was something he could buy and he did.

"generally having a sugar daddy and sugar baby relationship means a mutual benefit. sex or sexual favors in exchange of money. of course it varies with different people but . . . paying me only to have my company . . . don't you ever wish to have some more?" your voice -- is it doing justice to convey all your pent up emotions and feelings? you wonder.

now, fyodor is a man of rationality and cold logic but even he is a human.

how can you not see the way he is gulping thickly, able to outline and picture your cunt as the flimsy lingere nightgown is doing its purpose of letting his imagination run loose. the way you are leaning down to be closer to him caused one of the thin straps of the nightgown to fall off your shoulders and near your elbow, allowing fyodor a glimpse of just a small portion of your cleavage.

how can fyodor focus on your words when your lips look so pouty and eyes so moistened? lord, oh lord, you answered his prayers, didn't you?

oh dear lord, is this angel on top of him his to corrupt?

"tell me, why won't you touch me? let me fulfill my duty as a sugarbaby. let me satisfy you sometimes fyodor." you softly let out, staring at him and fyodor, oh fyodor, what are you doing?

why are you pulling on the angel's other strap and letting it fall down her elbow? do you not know your patience and self control is running thin?

you can't do it. you aren't fyodor to conceal your emotions and feelings deep within the chambers of your mind.

so you allow a sob to travel through your throat, allowing it the freedom to be freed and let fyodor hear it, you let him hear your misery.

"you always do this. these actions of yours make me feel as if you desire me too . . . only for you to shut me out by acting cold and distant again." your voice is strained, cracking even as your vocal chord is being choked by the nimble hands of sadness.

"am i some kind of a doll to you? who you can play with as much as you want?" your words don't seem to have any effect on the russian below you whose expressions haven't changed a bit.

it's always this cold and calm look of his which you hate but oh, how you love it too.

and fyodor noticed it. he always does. the way the corner of your eyes soften as your eyes go all doe like whenever you admire his features but he doesn't like how that softness is always shielded by a sheet of longing and sadness.

"if you were to tell me to dance on fire for you, i would gladly become one with the fire for its not the fire which burns me but your coldness, fyodor." you confess, biting your bottom lip in a fragile attempt to stop or hide their quivering but this action of your's, the furrowed eyebrows and the slightly red eyes of your's makes you look all the more appealing to fyodor.

"have i done something to make you feel like so? don't cry. didn't i tell you? your presence brings me joy, your opinions and perspectives are intresting enough for me to spend enough to have you by my side. why? are you not satisfied? do you want more? tell me what you want and it's your's, you know there is no limit to what i've to offer to you." the cold and calm tone accompanied with the russain accent is a voice you hear daily yet still can't get enough of.

you shake your head. no, he can't offer you what you desire.

"i don't want your wealth anymore. i want your love and that's the only thing you can't offer." you weakly mutter and close your eyes, waterfalls of heartbreak wetting your cheeks for even you know that your desire is a painful lie you live in and hope to achieve.

fyodor feels the tightening of his pants and the slight hardening of his cock at your soft sniffles, god, how vile is he to get turned on by your sniffles of sorrow?

"sweet doll, do you think my affection for you is fake? . . . is that what you think? are you getting bored of me? do you want to leave?" fyodor asks, his voice a bit sad, looking at you whose eyes are still closed and hearing his words make you cry even more as you now don't feel shy or hide your sobs, letting them out in the open for fyodor to hear for maybe then, he could understand your feelings.

these simple words are not your breaking point. the sadness lingering in his tone is. the subtle frown which you are sure is adorning his mouth is. those affectionate touches and him being more touchy with you since the past two months only to distance himself from you before things could escalate further is.

the way his hands immediately cling onto your hips as they squeeze your hips tightly but in a comforting manner is.

"i love you! i love you! why are you so smart yet stupid to realise this!? i don't want to be a dumb sugar baby who is happy with a little bit of attention! that won't work for me! i need all of your attention, all of you! fyodor i need you! i need your love, i want your love!" you sob loudly and oh, oh.

not only did you reach your breaking point tonight, fyodor did too.

his grip on your hips tightened and his eyes went a bit dark, more sharper.

"stop testing my patience dumb doll." was a sentence which was enough to make you straighten up and behave yourself, but not tonight. oh definitely not tonight.

tonight you will pour your heart out to him and wait for his judgment.

"i try so hard to make you notice me, to seduce you yet none of them work . . . am I that unattractive? or are you in love with someone else? are you even capable of loving fyodor? capable of loving me?" you stare down at him, eyes sad and lips parted to let quick and short breaths escape along with occasional sobs.

the tears stopped coming long ago as the anguish converted into a cold calmness of sadness and the ones which flowed down your cheek began to dry up but left their trail there for fyodor to see.

this was it. the final push fyodor needed for him to pour out his feelings, his emotions and his pent up desires.

fyodor scoffs in amusement and only tightens his grip on your hips more, enough to leave a bruise and tight enough to immobilize you.

"dumb doll, how can you say all that when you don't even know the thoughts in my head everytime i see you? do you know what i think everytime i make you wear these sexy nightgowns?" fyodor's voice is low and seductive yet it has that soft edge to it and you purse your lips in embarrassment as you feel the wet pool in your core and you know fyodor felt it too or he wouldn't have smirked the way he did, so arrogantly yet arrogance looks good on him, sexy if you may add.

hands of temptation belongs to fyodor as he lets his hands run up and down your curves.

"not treat you like a doll? nonsense. you are my doll, how can i not treat you like one? so fragile and magnificent, all for me." the last part wasn't a hope or wish but a statement. fyodor wasn't asking you to be his, he already made you his when he first paid you for spending time with him.

"do you even know what i think every time i look at you, especially when you look so preety when you are sad?" the smooth voice holding onto the calm and collected tone which made it clear to the receiver that fyodor isn't just any human but a part of the rare percentage who are unbelievably majestic, lured you in, you wondered often if he is a siren.

you shook your head as a no, sniffling occasionally as fyodor's hand went lower towards the hem of your nightgown, he played with it as he said,

"i wish," he muttered, looking at your lips before he looked up at your eyes again, lifting the hem of your nightgown.

"to strip you of your clothes and feel your body . . . with your soft, smooth skin . . ."

you part your lips as you let out a soft gasp, feeling fyodor's cold fingers trail the flesh of your ass before he gripped one of your buttocks and he squeezed it roughtly between his cold fingers as if to show you how your last claim of heartbreak angered him.

hearing your gasp, fyodor smiles seductively, and eyes you, admiring the cut of the dress which was loose enough to give him a glimpse of your cleavage, the way your hair fell all over your face and the way you were basically straddling him which resulted in your nightgown to ride up.

"you say all this but your actions proved otherwise" you furrow your eyebrows as you mutter and the man beneath you just continues to eye you in a more intense, vulgar way.

“to touch you . . . in the most intimate places, but how can i? you know i am a man whose morals and beliefs shape him. so how can i think about you in such a way which contrasts my beliefs?” did he ask you? you weren't sure, your focus was on his hand which went towards your hip and grabbed it.

you part your lips, letting out a shaky breath as fyodor's fingers dig into your skin to grip it while his thumb applies slight pleasure to your hip, it feels as if he is trying to memorize the way your skin feels against him.

“how can i ignore my desires any longer? my desires to kiss you . . .” fyodor's eyes move up and down your body in a perfect coordination with his hands which grab your shoulders, kneading onto them as he then trails his hands down your arms and towards your wrists.

not only is your breath a bit frantic but so is his.

angel, oh angel, is this not enough for you to open your eyes and let go of that foreskaen purity?

oh let the drug who is injected into your veins, begin it works.

you took the drug yourself. the drug named fyodor dostoyevsky.

“and to taste your sweetness.” fyodor tugs on your wrist making you lean near him more.

"my beliefs and morals are what shaped me but you are what makes me feel human. my desires towards you knows no limit so don't ever try to question my emotions and feelings towards you. or i'll make another use of that preety mouth of your's." he whispers that last sentence.

broken. the thread of fyodor's self resistance and control broke.

fyodor pushes your head towards him, pressing his lips against your's as he begins to kiss you, he had always known his feelings would be reciprocated but it sure did feel good to have your lips move against his.

dancing in sin, the music is provided by the short and hot breaths you two share, you could feel your core throb as you placed one of your hands on the bed to stabilize yourself and the other on fyodor's cheek, caressing the skin you dreamt of littering in your marks and kisses.

like a snake, fyodor's hands slithered towards your back to push it to have you more closer towards him.

after a long while, you pull back to catch your breath, looking at fyodor as you parted your lips to speak but how can he just hear words leaving those wet and slightly swollen lips?

oh no. absolutely not.

fyodor pushed himself up slightly to capture your lips in a heated kiss again, elbow propped against the bed while with the other hand, he brushed your hair to the side.

you closed your eyes just like the russain beneath you, trying to appreciate every single movement made by his lips, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip before it entered your mouth and his occasional biting down on your bottom lip.

when he pulls back again to let both of you recover from the lack of oxygen, fyodor chuckles breathlessly.

"fuck it." he mutters a curse before changing your positions, making you lay on your back as his lips cling onto your's yours in a desperate manner, clinging onto you like how a water droplet clings onto the edge of a leaf, wet sounds produced due to the kisses shared between you two were the epitome of just how sinful the night will get from here on.

fyodor is desperate.

more.

more and more.

oh lord, he knew once he started, he won't be able to stop and look, now he is tainting this angel of your's.

what will you do now when he is not letting the angel breath, continuously kissing her, one after the another -- you will do nothing, whatever needs to be done will be decided by the god under whose mercy the angel's heart is.

your heart beating is frantic but not more then the arousal which is aggressively coursing through your veins, you try to clench your legs to stop the slick from dripping on your panties but fyodor's hand on your inner thigh had forced you to keep your leg open.

fyodor leaned down to plant soft kisses on your lips, chin and jaw, trailing the wet kisses as to crave a path of his love.

"i will only ask once for my patience is thin right now, so tell me, sweet doll, tell me if you want this," fyodor leans up to capture your lips in a quick kiss again, "because once i have my way, i'll never let you leave me." he whispers, eyes trailing up to stare at your face and can you really say no to those purple eyes which were hypnotic enough to make your breathing stop midway.

"you are sounding like a big talker right now--" your words were cut short by the gasp which left your lips when fyodor's hand which was on your inner thigh had trailed up to press his thumb against your wet core.

"big talker? i'll show you that i don't speak empty words, dumb doll." fyodor smirks, the silence of the night didn't find it offending how his voice cut through the calm and hot atmosphere and rather they found it just as soothing as you, the russian could almost be passed as a god with the way the moonlight falling from the opened windows reflected his pale skin and dark irises, and oh, you closed your eyes as you exhaled shakily.

"please . . . please strip me. fuck me. i made myself clear too, no? i want you, your touch, your lips all over me. hah . . . you are no saint, you are the devil. stop fucking with these morals and just fuck me fyodor!" you beg, voice proving your desperation and neediness to have the russian all over you, to make your dreams which you hide in the darkest depths of your heart a reality.

fyodor began to rub his thumb over your wet core, rubbing against the sensitive bud with nothing but your panties to restrict the pleasure he created.

and is he really the god of your heart if he doesn't listen to your prayers?

"then let me show you just how much i desire you and once i am done, you'll be chanting my name like a prayer and when i repeat this all tomorrow? oh doll," fyodor coos the last part, biting his lip as he chuckled, "my dolly, my sweet sweet dolly, you won't even know if you are on earth or in heaven."

fyodor didn't hear your reply, immediately moving down to bite on your collarbone which he was only ever able to brush his fingers against for the past few months when he realised that maybe he wants to keep you by his side for as long as he can and could for fyodor doesn't think he has feelings for you as strong as to call them love.

fyodor sucked on your collarbone, licking it after before he looked up at you again, overcoming by the sudden urge to look at your face and the sight of your parted lips and barely opened eyes upon receiving such a small portion of pleasure made you look pure in fyodor's eyes, not to mention the moonlight falling on half of your body had only made you look more ethereal.

the nightgown straps barely on your elbows anymore as they revealed the upper portion of your cleavage and fyodor immediately knew that he had to free you from the fabric which is an obstacle for his hands from exploring your curves and body.

fyodor leans up on his arm, using the other to hook his index finger on your strap, pulling it down your arm, you raised your arm to help him slip the strap out with ease and once fyodor slipped both the straps off, he ripped the nightgown apart with his hand, immediately clinging his lips onto your naked breasts.

it started off as a single lick against your nipple before he went back to swirl his tongue against it, flickering it with his tongue.

then the sensation increased as his fingers trailed up your thighs and slipped into the nightgown, continuing their path up your other breast as he grazed the nipple with his nail before flickering it with his finger.

soon his index and middle finger squeezed the nipple between them, pulling on it as it made you hiss and fyodor smirked against your breast.

fyodor found pleasure in hearing your short breaths and gasps of pleasure and he would've loved to go and tease you for hours, manipulating you into thinking he is finally giving in to touch you, only for him to prove you wrong . . . only if it weren't for his painfully hard boner.

fyodor clicked his tongue before he grabbed your hips with both of his hands and rolled over with you on top of him once again as he looked up at you with that devilish smirk on his face, minute sweatbeads were beginning to form on his forehead and if you squint enough, you could see him gulping.

"be my good doll and ride me and tell me all your complaints. sweet doll, i will listen to every complain of your's today" fyodor tells you, hands slowly removing your panties as you lift yourself up to help him, he throws it away, not bothering to remove his sweatpants or anything as he immediately guides you to sit on his crotch, moving your hips to create some friction to ease his painfully hard erection, silently gasping as you slick wets his fabric.

fyodor smirks as his eyes remain closed, teasing you, "go on sweet doll, begin complaining to your daddy."

and when you nod, your head tilted back as you close your eyes and begin to move back and forth on his clothed boner, fyodor's eyes couldn't tear away from you ; your nightgown which was now rolled down and ripped to reveal your clevage, the slight pink mark appearing on your collar bone and your hair which fell infront of your face -- fyodor sucked in a breath.

his cold hands came to restrict your hips as he tapped once, you got the signal and you lifted yourself up slightly and watch fyodor skillfully remove his sweatpants and briefs with one hand, stroking his hardened and aggressive cock a few times before he rubbed the tip against your folds to get your slick on the tip, rubbing the length against your inner thighs which had slick dripping down.

"sit." he commanded a bit too softly to match the fire of lust blazing in his purple irises and if you paid enough attention to look past the pleasure and pain of sinking down on his cock, you could've seen the way his irises were dilated and reflected your image in them then you could've understood how deeply and intensely fyodor always stares at you.

a pained whimper left your lips as you settle down on his cock, feeling it strech your walls for the very first time. your fingers can't even fathom the sensation of his cock and now that you finally have it inside you, you know no one else, not even your own fingers or the finest toys out there, could satisfy you the way he is going to for the reason is simple, the same way the heart has no use if there is no blood left for it to pump, there is no libido in you if there is no fyodor.

for the sight of the man makes your brain fall into the lap of arousal and submit yourself to it, to fyodor.

"i am your doll? then why don't you cherish me and love me? why do you act as if we are just two partners in a deal? i am not one of your business partners, don't treat me professionally like you treat them" you grit your teeth, trying to get used to the pain.

you move up when you feel the pain become a bit bearable, going down on his cock as a choked breath leaves you and fyodor's eyes widen ; you move up and down his cock again, biting your lip in pain but the face you make as you are in pain yet try to give pleasure to him -- oh what a sight.

"you claim to love me? dumb man --" you let out a gasp, feeling your pussy clench around his cock as he sucked in a breath, "you are so smart yet how can you be so oblivious that your coldness makes me think you don't even like me?"

and suddenly, fyodor is hyper aware of his surroundings of how the bedsheet moves with your movements, the wet squelch as his cock enters and leaves your hole and your and his grunts and pants filling the entire room.

the hair falling on your face sticked to your forehead as you begin to move more on his cock.

fyodor parts his lips, your furrowed eyebrows relaxes as you let out a breath of relief, feeling the pain slowly turning into pleasure and fyodor did not stop himself or try to fool himself into believing he is superior when he leaned forwards, elbow propping against the bed as he brought his other hand towards your face and gently tucked the hair strands sticking to your forehead away, staring at you with a fond smile and suddenly everything makes sense, the sudden urge to touch you since the past few months, to whisper into your ears and watch you get shy and to give you whatever you desire, it all makes sense to him now for no one understood human emotions better then fyodor but to feel them, that's a different thing and he finally did.

"touch me, kiss me, caress me and let me do the same to you, you don't know, no one else can compare to you, you've me wrapped around your preety fingers. and it angers me to think someone else will claim you as her's one day. it isn't fair! you are mine, you should be mine, i don't want anyone else to have you except me. you are the type i want to marr--"

"i love you, my dumb doll." fyodor intrupted you as he breaths out, hand coming down to gently squeeze your nape, the sudden desire he felt is something he won't deny anymore as he pushes your nape forwards to once again have your lips against his.

your eyes widened, you've known fyodor enough to know words of affections are foreign to him so to hear him speak the purest words of intimation?

oh how your heart surrendered to him once more, how it bowed to him and was ready to bend to his will.

"i. love. you." with each word he spoke against your lips, he thrusted his hips upwards and relished as you moaned.

"i. love. you." he once again emphasized to let you hear him loud and clear, sucking on your bottom lip before pulling back and grabbing your chin with his index finger and thumb.

"you hear me? are my words reaching your ears, my doll? i love you." fyodor gritted his teeth, looking at your widened eyes and parted lips and how he resisted the urge to utterly ruin you and have you cry out his name as he saw how tears glistened and flowed down your cheeks.

"go on, confess the feelings you've always bottled up, my baby doll. and don't you dare stop no matter what, speak. tell your daddy how much you love him." fyodor commands, pinching your chin as he smiled seductively, pulling your chin closer to plant a small kiss on the corner of your lips, before he moved towards your lips to nibble on your upper lip.

fyodor pulled back and his purple eyes shined devilishly as he pulled on your nipple. "move your body and your lips, my doll. daddy is all your's. wanna wife you before the sun rises tomorrow yet i can't do that without knowing if you feel the same, can i? open that mouth and complain, after all, when have i ever denied you desires and wishes?"

━━━━━━━ 💋 end.

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alicerosejensen · 10 months

Note

Infinite darkness Leon with a calm soft reader,he found her awake looking behind the glasses in Early in the morning remember the past,so he wants to Leave these thoughts from her behind and go back to sleep(their already in fourteen, like sugar mommy and daddy;)...)

Warning: fluff, soft reader, hint of sugar daddy (Barely a hint) , the reader's traumatic past; Poor eyesight, reader wears glasses.

Note: I hope I translated the request correctly. In general, it is surprising that I write fluff and not Hurt.

Sunlight through the soft curtains penetrated in thin beams of weak light into the bedroom. It was a time when he was not touched during the vacation. With Leon's work, you can never be sure that he will not be called at any moment to be sent on another mission, but so far everything was calm Leon just rented a house by the lake for a week and took you with him to enjoy peace and quiet. He even likes this life, almost remote from the bustle of the city, in a small cozy house, when the neighbors do not make noise in the evening and he can just sit with you on the couch embracing watching some program or movie while your head lies on his chest.

He had a sweet night full of tenderness, love and wet kisses with passionate confessions of devotion. Leon left traces of his love on you when he grabbed your waist slowly and deeply moving inside you, giving pleasure, finding the perfect contrast to make you feel good with him. He whispered and promised to give you everything you deserve and you knew that he would rather die than break his promises.

His sweet beloved angel... You were sleeping and Leon was just picking through your strands for a long time and kissing your back while you were sleeping on your stomach quite a light sleep. He just knew that you two needed to leave for a while. In the end, Leon thought a change of scenery would be a good cure for unpleasant memories of the past.

However, what he didn't expect was that if he woke up too early, he wouldn't find your body next to him in bed. Usually he always hugged you tightly, this made the joint sleep quite deep, helping to relax, and it was not easy to break out of his grip. Although, it would be more correct to say that it was impossible to escape from the captivity of Leon S. Kennedy without forcing him to wake up, but somehow you managed it.

The wristwatch that was lying on the bedside table showed Leon only five in the morning. He casually threw them back looking around the room in search of you, noticing one small detail - the clothes he took off from you in the evening also disappeared somewhere. However, it is unlikely that you could have gone far.

"Sweetheart?" Leon called loudly, putting on boxers and pants to go downstairs.

Fortunately, the anxiety disappeared as soon as you appeared in his field of vision, sitting in an armchair in panties, one T-shirt and your glasses, which you wore only when you sat down to work. Leon's hands slid over your shoulders making you jump in surprise

"Oh, it's you…" you sighed with relief when you got comfortable in the armchair that you turned to the window to look at the sunrise over the lake. The view was really beautiful. "I was already hoping that I could lull the vigilance of Super Agent Kennedy"

Leon grinned, but his smile faded when he noticed that the trip didn't make you feel any better. The mood remained the same melancholic and even last night could not fix the situation in any way. He took you for a walk in the woods, watched some meaningless movie on this old TV, had great sex with you, but you were still not with him. Somewhere out there alone with myself.

Leon walked around the armchair, standing right in front of you and slowly pulled the glasses off your face. You stared at him with surprised eyes when his silhouette became slightly blurred due to poor eyesight, but before protesting, his hands grabbed your face when he bent down to kiss you with a demanding kiss not devoid of tenderness and passion.

"You'll have to train for a long time for that, sunshine." He merrily remarked, interrupting the kiss, but continuing to squeeze your cheeks in his palms, stroking them with his thumb, while his forehead was pressed against yours. "We didn't come here to get up so early."

"I know…" you gasped, pulling away from him, immediately shuddering from the cool air, from which your skin is covered with goosebumps. "I just can't forget about what happened. I keep running away from the past, and when I think it's all over, it's over… finds me again"

"I'm sorry I'm ruining your vacation," you drawled in frustration, looking at the notebook on the table with which you came here with him.

"Don't say that!" Leon objected and you are touched by him and the care and tenderness with which he treats you when he takes you by the hand and pulls you towards him, forcing you to get up from the armchair.

"Listen, it's very nice and quiet here. No one but the two of us and possibly annoying birds that sing incessantly. You're safe here with me, and believe me, I won't let anything or anyone disturb our peace. We deserve it. And when we get home, we will solve everything that worries us. I brought you here to distract you and calm down and not worry even more."

That was Leon's whole point. Your Leon. Pressing you to his chest while his hands stroke your back and his lips gently kiss your temple. This person is ready to be your saving beacon for the rest of his life, and no matter how selfish it was, but you really liked the idea that you could entrust your worries to him and he would do everything to heal your wounds. It seems that the world does not deserve this man, but he is there and he is yours. The warmth of his hands was like the embrace of a July paradise in which you settled forever and it seems only for you there was a place.

Your heart began to beat in its natural calm rhythm when Leon literally covered you with his body, burying his nose in the top of his head, kissing her.

"Come on! Let's go back to bed and continue our sleep and then… and then we'll decide along the way and we won't get ahead of ourselves even"

Leon does everything for your endless happiness, which makes it seem to you that in this house the two of you could stay together for a thousand years, no one would find you. Not his job, not your traumatic past. And let this thousand years last only a week, it will remain in your memory forever as one of their most precious memories when Leon grabs you in his arms in a wedding style to go back to bed and you cuddle up to him sweetly wrapping your bodies in a warm blanket feeling how he hugs you to him.

Because he loves and will love for a very long long time…

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hotchfiles · 3 months

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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [CHOICELESS HOPE] ❞ — four. delicate.

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader. summary: the moment leading up to the kiss, the drumroll, is as good as the kiss itself. it's certainly more innocent. it's completely harmless. content warnings: canon divergent. emotional cheating (not on reader). angst. right person wrong time. a bit of daddy issues on this one. no use of y/n. word count: 900+ .a/n: me taking my least engaged fic and making a series out of it? more likely than you think. summary based on himym's victoria and her theory.

previously

Aaron knocks on your door even though that is the least effective way to show you he’s there, hoping in some way this would delay the terrible thing he was about to do. He wishes he could pretend he didn’t know what you felt for him still existed rooted deep in your heart as it did his, and Aaron surely wishes his heart didn’t beat that fast as he heard Jack’s laughter and your voice about three times rougher than usual, apparently pretending to be some sort of monster.

He tried to be honest, but being honest to himself meant admitting that night was a succession of terrible choices only he could be blamed on. He was the one to ask if anyone at the BAU could watch over Jack as his sitter had been sick and Jessica was busy, he thought JJ or Spencer would offer to, but you did. And he accepted it knowing fully well he was leaving his son at your house so he could have a date with his girlfriend.

Your eyes were always your tell, he saw the hurt in then the moment he dropped Jack off, knowing clearly by his outfit that he was going on a date, a special one even.

That was another terrible choice, not explaining before why he needed someone to babysit Jack. You told him he looked nice and your voice didn’t crack but the fake smile you gave him made his heart break. And the one you gave Jack was even worse, watching you so genuinely happy taking him in your arms as if Aaron wasn’t being the biggest jerk was enough to throw him off balance the whole night.

His date wasn’t good, he was silent, more than usual, and it wasn’t fair. Beth was a good person, he loved her. Beth made him believe in something he thought he would never again, that little spark that faded the moment you left and crumbled when Haley died. Beth brought it back, she wasn’t some sort of placeholder as he waited for his true love to come knocking at his door. She was love, and stability. Someone Jack adored, someone he had built a relationship long lasting enough that Jack got accustomed to.

And his final terrible choice that led him to your door again, cutting the date short. Much shorter than Beth expected as they had planned it for weeks before. But he couldn’t face her. He couldn’t talk to her with the attention she deserved because all he thought about was your sad eyes to him and your warm smile to Jack.

He was a mess. He was hurting himself. And Beth. And you. And inevitably he would hurt Jack if he kept acting like that even though he was acting like that because he couldn’t change Jack’s life upside down again. It was always an impossible situation with you.

You know something’s wrong by his face and by the time he shows up at your door, he looks defeated, so you pull him inside instead of calling Jack to go home. You don’t ask him what’s wrong, you don’t want to know, you don’t want to hear him talk about his love life, instead you smile at him and place your hand on his cheek, rubbing the signs of age on his face lovingly, he closes his eyes and hold that same hand, leaning into it for just a moment.

“I gave Jack ice cream twice already so he’s in a hell of a sugar rush.” Your confession makes him laugh and breaks the intimacy of the moment, thankfully so. It was your intention after all, you couldn’t afford more than those tiny minutes. His eyes are accusatory, his mouth expresses his shock as he shakes his head in disappointment. “What? I want him to like me, everyone at the BAU has years of family time with him and I don’t.”

Jack comes from the kitchen yelling, the amount of daddy daddy daddy leaving his mouth per second probably breaking some record, Aaron takes him in his arms, throwing him in the air just high enough to get the boy giggling.

He forgets his dilemmas for that night, Beth’s messages and calls ignored on his phone as the three of you played together. Hide and seek, catch and even a bit of karaoke before it got too late.

Sleeping is hell when he gets home. He keeps thinking about everything he ever did wrong, how he almost cheated on Haley with you and then he let you go, and how he made Haley’s life miserable after that, so much so she ended up cheating on him–he couldn’t judge her for it. And how he was again on the same destructive path.

Fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree, his fidelity to the women he loved seemed to always come back as a question the universe begged to have an answer to: Are you really that different from your dad?

If it wasn’t for you, for your restraint, for your respect for his commitments, would he be able to defend himself from such accusations his own mind threw at him at night? If you didn’t leave the unit, if you didn’t leave his lingering hugs first, would he be a faithful man?

Would he be the man he wished Jack would grow up to be? The man he wished his own father was? Or would he just prove what his mother would constantly say, that he was merely his father’s son?

Those kept him awake until his mind couldn’t handle it anymore.

#lari writes sometimes #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario

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kisskiss-slashslash · 1 year

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Hey 🙂

Really enjoying your writings.

May I request the slashers - the usual suspects (Jason/Michael/Sinclairs/Thomas) and anyone else if you want, mistaking their fem s.o for being romantic with someone else (like the situation with this other person looks totally sketch and could be construed for something not so innocent but its absolutely innocent - s.o would never cheat).

How would the slashers initially react and how would they feel and go about the situation.

❤

Warnings: Implied sexual harassment

Slashers and mistaking their s/o for being romantic with someone else

Jason Voorhees

He sees you holding a male camper’s hand as you walk away from the camp, and finds his heart breaking. Is he not enough? And if he isn’t, why would *that one* be?

Jason follows the two of you quietly, trying to see where this is going. He does not want to believe that you would truly cheat on him. But you give that camper sultry looks, and every time you do, Jason’s heart breaks a little more.

Finally, you arrive at a small clearing, far away from the camp.

“Now come on, honey, let daddy have some sugar”, the guy says, making grabby hands in the general direction of your chest.

“Oh I’ll let you have *something*, alright”, you say with a grin and, in one fluid motion, pull the small knife from your pocket and bury the blade in his throat.

“Shhh, no screaming, we don’t want to alert the others now, do we?”, you coo in a faux-comforting tone while his yellow camp shirt slowly turns red.

Jason comes out from between the trees and looks at you, bewildered.

You give him an apologetic smile. “There you are, love. Did you see all of that? Sorry. But this one was so gross that I just had to kill him myself.”

Now Jason just feels silly for ever doubting you.

Vincent Sinclair

He finally leaves his workshop for the day and wants to spend the rest of it with you, only to find you on the couch, with Lester leaning on you. It definitely looks like you’re cuddling.

Vincent feels like someone pulled the rug from under him. If you were to ever leave him, he would expect it to maybe be for Bo, but for Lester?

You and Lester both look up, and now Vincent notices that his youngest brother looks, quite frankly, miserable.

“Lester isn’t feeling well”, you tell Vincent in a soft voice. “Bo just left to the next town over, to get some meds, and asked me to take care of him until then.”

Lester coughs heavily. “Sorry, Bro. Didn’t mean to hog your girl.”

With his jealously forgotten, his protective older sibling instincts kick in, and he quickly sits down on Lester’s other side, putting his hand on his forehead. The youngest Sinclair is definitely running a decently high fever.

“If you let him lean on you for a bit, I can get up and make him some tea”, you say, and Vincent immediately agrees.

Freddy Krueger

He does not like you cozying up to other people, and being stuck in your subconscious, unable to do anything unless you fall asleep, sure isn’t helping.

Why are you watching horror movies with this loser? Why are you laughing so much? There you are, even casually mentioning Freddy by name, that should be enough of an indicator that you are unavailable, so why is this idiot still here?!

Once you fall asleep, Freddy confronts you about it. “I’ve killed significant others for less petty reasons before, bitch.”

“Okay? Sorry that I was trying to help you, I guess.”

“Help me?”

“Uhm, yeah? Did you not hear me tell him about you? Take a wild guess who the guy is gonna be thinking about when he goes to sleep tonight, and how those thoughts are gonna make him feel.”

Freddy presses his lips together. “...Fine, I guess. But next time, find a way to tell people about me without whoring yourself out to them, got it?”

Brahms Heelshire

You are getting just a tad to friendly with the new grocery delivery guy, and Brahms does not like that. It gives him flashbacks to Greta. So he tries to keep your attention away from the guy as well as he can. He unplugs the phone every time he calls, he demands your full attention during the times the man would be there and just generally tries to keep your eyes where they should be.

Finally, you have enough.

“Brahms, what is going on?!”

He keeps his eyes fixed on the ground. “Do you love him?”

“Huh?”

“The delivery man. Do you love him?”

“Wha- Oh. Is this what this is about?” You sit down on Brahms’ bed and gesture for him to do the same.

“That man is my cousin”, you finally tell him. “Kinda distant though. I found out when I did one of those genetics tests you can order from the internet for fun.”

“So… You’re not gonna leave with him?”

“Hell no. I told him I got a great thing going here. But he’s also the only blood related family I have any real access to here, so I’m trying to maintain a good relationship with him.”

“Oh… okay, I think I understand.”

Bubba Sawyer

Subtle flirting is kind of part of business, especially when dealing with customers as a woman. You explained as much to Bubba when Drayton had the idea of you earning your keep by helping out with peddling his chili to people. But that doesn’t mean he has to like it. In the rare cases where he gets to watch from afar as you charm the customers into getting seconds, he finds himself irritatedly fiddling with his chainsaw.

One night, you come home, pull the hair net from your head and heavily sit down next to Bubba.

“What a day”, you grumble. “I swear, some of these people think they can treat me however they like just because they pay some chump change for Drayton’s chili.”

Now that catches Bubba’s attention. He looks at you, confused.

“What, you didn’t think that I *like* getting hit on by randos every day, did you?”, you say. “I want to tell them that I am married, but Drayton doesn’t want me to. Says they’re paying for the view and that feeling like they’re encroaching on another guy’s territory is going to scare them away.”

Now Bubba coos empathetically and begins rubbing small circles on your back, to help you relax. Now that he knows that you don’t like it, he feels a lot better about it.

#slasher x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #freddy krueger x reader

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creedslove · 11 months

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HEARTLESS 💔 - PART NINE

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

Summary: Jack wants to know more about your relationship which makes him want to pursue a new relationship on his own, but things aren't as easy as he thought it would be

(This is the ninth chapter of the HEARTLESS 💔 series)

Warnings: angst, jealousy, jealous!whiskey, low-key jealous!reader, hurt, fluff,

A/N: Tinder what? 🤔🤠🤳

3.8k words

You knew Jack was awake and he knew you weren't asleep either, but neither of you dared say a word about what had just happened. Ever since your ex walked back into your life, you had spent quite a few hours just wondering how you would address the situation, you thought of a simple, harmless and non traumatic way to tell your son he had a father, and that his father was willing to be around, even if he wasn't before, and yet, once more your son baffled the two of you with his purity, his innocence and his ability of loving regardless of Jack deserving it or not.

You couldn't see the man's expression, but you were sure he was just as moved, not expecting it to be acknowledged so easily.

You had your arm wrapped around Wyatt's small body, facing his sleeping form, silently admiring him, pride and love burning so intensely in your heart. And then you felt Jack's big hand joining yours, entwining your fingers and taking your hand to his mouth, pecking it very gently, like the good southern gentleman he once was to you

"Thank you sugar, for allowing me to have this" his voice was full of emotions and it brought tears to your eyes, even if you had no plans in showing him. Eventually, with the silence in the room and only the rain pouring outside, you fell asleep. But sleeping next to a toddler isn't an easy task, you were used to it, of course, and you would be lying if you said it wouldn't be funny when Jack experienced that.

"Dada? Dada?" Wyatt's soft voice wasn't enough to snap Jack away from his slumber, so the little boy climbed his daddy's chest and squeezed his cheeks gently "dada!!!" He said a little louder and Jack widened his eyes, startled and alert at first worried some danger was right there, but relaxed the moment it was only his son's smiley face watching him "I want wawm miwk dada… pwease" he asked with sweet puppy eyes and Jack couldn't hold the wave of love that flooded his heart, his son was right there, snuggling him, at the same time he called him dada and asked for some milk. It was so domestic and adorable, something that Jack thought he would never be able to have and there it was.

He smiled big and wrapped his arms around Wyatt's small body, getting up and carrying him along "of course we can have some milk, son… that's essential for cowboys who want to grow stronger" he said in a low voice not to disturb you which brought a smile to your face, even if they couldn't see it.

Wyatt immediately clung to his daddy and giggled excitedly as Jack took him downstairs and began warming up his milk. He'd paid close attention to how you made Wyatt's warm milk the first night he'd spent with the two of you and once it was ready, he poured it into a small cup, it wasn't his usual sippy cup, but he figured Wyatt wouldn't complain. As the two of them waited for the milk to cool down a little, Wyatt rubbed his tired eyes and frowned softly at Jack, he was a curious little thing, his dad had noticed and he also knew he'd taken that after you

"Why dada no wive with mama and Wyatt?" He questioned and Jack swallowed, licking his bottom lip as he thought of an answer and for a moment he wished you'd be up and help him come up with an excuse, but then, Jack realized he had to answer that question alone, because now he was officially a dad, and he needed to step into this role and act as such, he couldn't run away from anything, so he stroked Wyatt's cheek

"Dada and mama had grown up problems, and dada made your mama cry and dada is very sorry for that" he finally handed Wyatt his cup seeing the liquid wasn't so hot anymore and smiled sadly at his son "unfortunately some families don't live together, so that's why dada lives here and you and mama live in the big city, but I love the two of you very much and this place will always be yours and mama's home too"

It didn't take much longer for Wyatt to fall asleep after he finished his milk, he hadn't asked much after his dad's answer, he liked to know he could be back to see the animals any time he wanted and after feeling all warm and full, he fell back asleep. Jack took him upstairs and placed him close to you, watching as you both slept peacefully. Once again, he cursed himself thinking of all the beautiful moments he lost because of how stubborn and cruel he had been to you. He could have had so many memories with his family, and while he admired your sleeping form and pretended for a brief moment you still belonged to him, he sadly thought of how you and Wyatt wouldn't have to leave in the early moment because his family would be by his side on his ranch and the thought that had been haunting him: how you wouldn't have 'someone' because by then he was sure he would've already married you.

As Jack got under the blankets, he couldn't keep mind thoughts from drifting back to what you had previously told you. You had someone, as in, you were dating someone. Someone that wasn't him. Jealousy was such an ugly color, but Jack Daniels was wearing it like a champ. He needed to know more about it. What was this guy's name? Where did you meet? Had he met Wyatt? He wanted to track him down, get his file, public records, criminal records, anything he could find and that he could dispose of and show you he wasn't a good person and that you should stay away. Jack wanted to be able to mend your broken heart and show you unlike this new guy whoever that was, he was the one who would have his arms open and ready to welcome you. He didn't even acknowledge the time he fell asleep, but he had sweet dreams about the family he wanted to have.

The next morning, Jack helped you take your bags to your car. He wasn't happy to see you and Wyatt gone, but he knew there was no other way to make you two stay a little longer, yet, he hoped that everything that happened and you had talked through would make it easier for him to visit your son. Wyatt finished breakfast while watching TV, Helen watching him, as she could only show up to work that morning after the terrible storm from the night before, and of course she loved every single time she got to spend with the little boy.

When you were done with the last bag, Jack approached you once more. He could tell you weren't so weary around him anymore but it didn't mean you were happy about his presence either. However, he needed to talk to you, and even if you weren't too thrilled, he was going to ask you no matter what.

"So, who's the guy you're dating? Where did you meet him? Does Wyatt know him?" He blurted it all out and you had to bite your lower lip not to laugh at how pathetic he sounded. You knew you could be angry, maybe you should be angry, but Jack sounded so silly, like a jealous school boy, you felt pretty amused at his inquiry.

"Listen Jack… he's a real nice guy, he's handsome, we get along pretty well and though it is still recent, I think it might lead somewhere…" you scratched your head softly and saw how he furrowed his brows, jaw clenching softly though he tried hiding his jealousy it wasn't easy.

"Where did you meet him?" He placed both hands on his waist, unconsciously taking a defensive pose, and even if he didn't like any bit of that conversation he couldn't bring himself to stop asking questions about it, the more it hurt the more he wanted to know.

"Oh Jack.." you sighed and blushed softly staring at your shoes for a while before facing his deadly gaze "we met on Tinder"

"Tinder what?" He asked confused and watched as you bit your lips again. Were you holding back your laughter?! Oh that cowboy was getting pestered by minute.

"It's a dating app, Jack… it's very common.. maybe you should try, perhaps you could meet someone nice there"

"So you wouldn't care at all if I got that Tinder thing and found myself some sugar?" He questioned, taking his time to analyze every single change of expression, Jack was really desperate for any crumble of your love.

"Why are we even discussing this, Jack? Are we done here?"

"You still haven't told me his name…"

"And what do you want his name for? So you can just get your Statesman contacts on him? Maybe it's better that way" you shrugged and turned away from him, but Jack caught your arm holding you in place "there's something else we need to talk, this is important, Y/N" he warned you and slowly made you look at him, he'd taken off his sunglasses and watched you with deep, sad eyes.

"I just want you to know that even before I went after you and Wyatt, a few days after I woke up when I was shot… I had a meeting with my lawyer, and I made a will, leaving everything for you and Wyatt, you know I have a dangerous job, I'm getting old and after what happened, I'm scared it could happen again and maybe if it does, Ginger won't be able to fix me again" he sighed "so I wanted to make sure you and Wyatt are going to be financially safe…"

And once again, Senior Agent Whiskey left you speechless. You didn't like hearing him talk about those things, you didn't even like considering the fact he could have been dead by now, you wanted to tell him to quit being an agent, if he didn't feel safe in the field, maybe he could just get a desk job, he could work in the intelligence part of the agency or he could stick with just his CEO position of Statesman… if he did so, he would even be close to you and Wyatt. But you couldn't say that to him. Jack Daniels was already a delusional man on his own, if you'd said something like that, he would take it the wrong way, assuming it meant you wanted him to be closer. And just inbecause you didn't want him dead, it didn't mean you wanted him around you.

"We don't want your money, Jack… Wyatt and I want you alive" you told him, you didn't want him crossing the boundaries, thinking he had the right to claim you as his, but he deserved to hear those words "well, mostly because I think the only person who actually has the right to kill you is me" the two of you chuckled softly, he was amused at your sense of humor "but seriously Jack… I'm happy you're not dead"

•••

Tinder. Tinder. Tinder. Tinder. Tinder.

Jack couldn't get that word out of his mind, he just couldn't wrap his head around the fact that you went on a dating app to find yourself someone. It wasn't just a coincidence, a good deed of destiny that brought you and your guy together, just like it happened to him and you, when he ended up stumbling on you during his mission, which almost caused him to blow it and it didn't even bother him, because it brought him the love of his life. But instead you had gone after a man, because you wanted to be with someone and Jack couldn't hold back his jealousy over this fact, and as if it wasn't enough, he was presented with the fact that you literally told him you wouldn't care if he got a new girl himself. It was just too much for him, and he couldn't accept that.

However a curiosity also crept up in him… what if he tried this tinder thing as well? Would it be too bad? Would he find someone nice? Maybe he could find your own profile? He had so many questions and yet he didn't know where to begin. In fact, he did… he knew he just had to download the app, that was the first step, and then what?

He took his phone and after battling with himself for a while, he finally did so, still pretty confused at how things worked. What was he supposed to do? Just swipe through people's photos and choose the one he liked? He thought it was odd, practical yes, if he ever wanted to find a night stand but if he looked for love, then there was no way he would find it that way. Jack was an old fashioned man when it came to that. He was a gentleman, he had manners, he knew how to treat a lady, romance to him was between two people, looking in the eye, hand in hand, flirting, kissing, and not things happening over a screen. Jack sighed and put his phone away, he couldn't believe you, out of all the people decided to go use that resource to find yourself someone.

Before sleeping, Jack made sure to video call you and talk to Wyatt. Sometimes you would be part of the conversation and sometimes you would just hold Wyatt, snuggling him while he talked about his day to his dad. It didn't matter if Wyatt was only a child and couldn't hold up a conversation, Jack loved that moment, it was a habit that quickly became his favorite and he tried doing it almost every night. Sometimes it wasn't possible due to work or other things, but either you or Jack would always let each other know. Still, whenever he hung up, he felt a hole in his chest, an emptiness he couldn't fill no matter how many times he watched pictures of you and your son, he was still a lonely bastard and there was nothing he could do to change that, and it was exactly because of this loneliness that Jack decided to give that Tinder thing a try.

He was an attractive guy, it was a stated fact, so it wasn't like it was extremely hard for women to take a liking to him, but Jack was a demanding guy…It's not that the women there weren't attractive, they were, but he knew he was just looking for someone else he couldn't have, whenever he swiped to the left, he had hopes the next picture he would see was yours.

But eventually Jack managed to start conversations here and there, some women were alright, he had some chats with them, others the conversation really took off and some even sent him a few nudes - which he didn't hate, by the way - but it wasn't exactly what he expected. He hadn't felt any sparks with any of them, even if he had agreed to go out for a coffee or something eventually.

And the days went by, sometimes fast and sometimes slow; he often visited Wyatt, brought him a few gifts and though you and him were always cordial you would never actually let him in for a deeper conversation, it felt to him that apart from Wyatt, you and him had absolutely nothing in common, and that's what brought him pain. Even when Jack tried being nice to you and brought you a box of chocolate, you thanked him in a respectful way but informed him you didn't eat chocolate anymore. He didn't know until which extent you were just avoiding him or if you'd just changed, but it hurt him to see you were so far away from him, and it was another reason why Jack insisted on that Tinder thing, he thought that maybe he could find someone who would at least bring some joy into his life.

And that was how Jack met Clara. After a few days of chatting, the two of them decided to go out once for all, at least Jack would get distracted, have a nice meal with a hot chick and maybe get laid. It wouldn't just erase you from his mind and heart, but you made sure to show him you had gotten over him, so he just decided to take his chances with Clara.

At first, he didn't really think things through when it came to a place to take his lady for the night, he had barely realized it was an actual date, it would be better that way, so he wouldn't be too nervous about being around her, but as time approached he realized he was nervous and because of that, he had to put a little effort to it. So Jack got his best pair of leather boots, along with his leather jacket and his stetson. He had good manners and knew a gentleman should always take his hat off when he sat at the table, but he would like to make a good impression on Clara. If she looked anything like the picture, she was indeed a stunner. He finished off by applying some cologne and after making sure his mustache was well trimmed, he headed for the restaurant. He didn't think much about the place he was taking Clara, he needed a good place in the city and pretty much only realized he'd picked the little Italian place you loved so much when he had already parked there.

Jack sighed and faced himself in the rearview mirror, sighing and reminding himself he wasn't on a date with you because you had moved on and he should do the same.

And then Jack sat at the table uncomfortably for the last half an hour, drinking the finest Statesman scotch they had available while he waited for Clara. He looked around and at the door every five minutes, not wanting to show he was slightly anxious and extremely embarrassed to have been stood up on his first try. It felt utterly humiliating, he didn't know why he had been rejected like that, did that girl just want to make fun of him? Why? He'd been nice to her, a gentleman, he hadn't been creepy or anything, he was going to pay for a very fine meal and he wouldn't expect anything in return, like a good southern gentleman he was. Maybe Jack was too old for that shit, maybe he should just accept he would never be happy again. He had two chances of love in life, one of them had been taken away from him and the other one he threw it away in the worst way someone ever could. Jack sighed and looked down at his phone one last time, he was just going to stand up and head home, but he felt someone standing in front of his table and a tiny bit of hope warmed his heart, he raised his head preparing his best, flirty smile but felt mortified when you stood there, watching him with curious eyes

"Jack, what are you doing here?" You questioned him curiously, it kind of looked like he was on a date with the exception there wasn't anyone with him. It was quite odd but curiosity got the best of you. He opened his mouth to answer you, but he watched you in disbelief as a man approached you, his arm snaking around your waist and pulling you closer.

"Our table is ready, baby" he said in his deep voice.

Jack was baffled. That guy was… scruffy. And he was wearing jeans to a date with you! He had wild curly hair that seemed to be tamed only by his ridiculous cap. Jack wanted to scoff at that image, a grown up man wearing a cap as if he were ten. He couldn't believe that was the guy you'd chosen for yourself, that you had thought that man was more attractive than he was. It was too much for him, the circle of humiliation was completed and Jack knew he had to go home.

"Hey man, my name's Frankie" he extended his hand to the cowboy, knowing exactly who he was by the things you'd told him.

Jack stared at the man and licked his bottom lip, knowing they expected him to shake his hand, but suddenly a beautiful girl walked towards them, ignoring you and Frankie and going straight to Jack, pecking his lips and smiling "sorry honey, I'm late" she said with a sweet smile.

That was the cherry on top of the uncomfortable cake that night had become. You swallowed and took Frankie's arm showing him it was time to go to your table, definitely not wanting to see any other PDA coming from Jack and his date. The cowboy watched her with an amused smile, he had liked the girl immediately, though there was one simple problem: she wasn't Clara.

"Care to explain?" Jack asked the girl, taking another sip of whiskey into his mouth and ignoring how you and your new boyfriend were seated just a few tables away. The beautiful woman chucked and shrugged.

"I've been watching you since you got here, cowboy… seems like you were stood up by your date, just like I was… now my real question is: what kind of woman would choose not to have dinner with you?" She asked and smiled "because I certainly wouldn't pass up my chance… my name's Taylor, by the way" she extended her hand to the handsome cowboy and expected him to shake it but instead, he took it to his mouth, kissing it gently.

"My name's Jack" he said with a smirk and licked his lips once again, watching how she blushed but at the same time loved the attention "tell me, Tay… how would you like to ride home on a cowboy tonight?"

And Taylor bit her lips, laughing at his joke and nodded softly. And Jack felt really good about himself, he had a pretty lady laughing at his joke, a pretty lady who kissed him even without knowing him, because she had her eyes on him, and she felt like they could have some fun. He liked how she laughed and it reminded him of you when you still liked him, it brought him good memories, good enough so he could pretend you weren't just a few meters away with your new guy, even if he wasn't aware of how your blood boiled when you heard him use the same pick up line he did when you two met. At that moment things were just good for the cowboy. Maybe good old Jack Daniels still got it after all.

_____

A/N: okay, okay, okay, I know I *might have* misled some of you into thinking Javi G would be reader's new guy. And some of you almost convinced me, I love Javi G, he's sweet, funny, lovely, but I don't think he would be the best fit for this story, I mean, it had to be Frankie, it's always been Frankie from the beginning, him and reader are parents, he's a real guy with a real working job, he's a family man, they deserve to live their passion 😭😭😭 TINDER WHAT?

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apollyonsdarksecrets · 9 months

Text

You can call me, Sir.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.

Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,

Specific chapter warnings : Failed CPS case, implied abuse with belt, clothes shopping (I tried my best to be as body neutral as possible), sugar daddy Arron, sales lady is rude towards reader, Things are getting spicy, first rules, use of pet names, reader is described as having hair long enough to sweep over one shoulder, trying on clothes, Let me know if I need to add anything!

A/N: The amount of love that has been shown for this story so far has absolutely filled my heart! I’m sorry this chapter took a minute to come out, I got married last week sooooo 😍 that slowed the process down a little. Haha 💜

*~*~*~*~*~*

9 years ago

The worst part was the way her nose stung, like a million tiny needles stabbing her all at once. But she had to breath through it, because only selfish, weak, incompetent people cried. So she forced her thoughts solely on the older woman who sat across from her, her grey hair loose around her shoulders, and the bright pink blazer she wore with matching skirt. ‘I think name is Deloris?’

Not what you would have thought when you heard the term ‘CPS worker’. She smiles at the young teen as if she was Y/n’s best friend and there isn’t a care in the world as her fountain pen taps against her yellow notepad. “You’re mother must have been a lovely woman.”

A muscle in Y/n’s jaw twitches, but she manages to return Deloris’ smile briefly. “She was.”

“So is that really the reason you have been skipping school?” Her green eyes were full of mock sympathy, and Y/n can only assume how many of these ‘troubled teen cases’ she has had to work.

“Yes ma’am.” It was the 8th anniversary of Y/n’s mother’s death. Today. She can hear her father in the other room, moving about the kitchen, pretending to not be listening through the thin walls. Y/n squeezes the pillow in her lap tighter to her churning stomach, already anticipating how the rest of the night will go.

“I’m sorry, dear. I know losing a loved one can be hard, but that doesn’t mean we can go about making things hard for the ones we still have.” Deloris tilts her head, her lips in a slightly pout as she regards Y/n, who only bites her cheek to keep quiet. She drops her chin to her chest, fanning shame with a small nod, placating the woman. “Good. I’m going to go talk with your father now, I hope you understand the severity of the situation you’ve almost caused. I expect to hear you are in school tomorrow.”

Deloris doesn’t take long in the kitchen with Y/n’s father, her pitchy laughter grating on Y/n’s ears. Her father escorts the worker to the door, his hair is combed, beard neat and he’s dressed still in his work clothes. A fitted grey collard shirt and jeans. His usual Forman outfit. At one point in Y/n’s life she can remember thinking her dad had been very handsome, but that had all been before the drinking.

“Have a good evening Miss. Deloris.” Her fathers southern accent is always laid on heavy whenever he is trying to impress someone, or to get his way. And for most of his life it worked well. Y/n wonders sometimes if that is how he had charmed her mother.

As the pine door shut, Y/n closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath before the storm. When she opens her eyes again, she’s staring at the brown tweed couch across from her, out of the corner of her eye she can see her father’s still form in the archway of the living room.

The sound of leather hissing through his denim belt loops makes her stomach drop, her breath quicken in her already tight chest. “Gone an got me in trouble huh?” He folds the worn leather over in his hands, snapping it together watching as she jumps in her seat. Her gaze remains focused on the spot Miss. Deloris had occupied, the old springs and cushioning holding her shape. “You ain’t learned trouble girl.”

Present Day

It’s almost unbearable how cold it is outside, the dark clouds over head threatened to snow on the busy sidewalk as you shove your hands as far into your jacket as they will go. Aaron is pressed against your side, his arm wrapped around your back, directing you through the crowd and to the front of a large store.

Chic’s End

Your nose scrunches slightly at the different mannequins in the brightly lit windows who’s clothing is on the higher end of fashion. Pieces you’d never find in your own wardrobe. Aaron guides you towards the door but you stop abruptly shaking your head. “Hotch, aren’t there places a little less… fancy?” Your tone gives away your discomfort as you scan the nearly empty store.

Aaron sighs, stepping around you so he can look you in the eye. “Rule number one: call me Aaron when it’s just the two of us, Hotch is too formal. Now I’m sure there are, but you deserve to be a little spoiled…” He pauses, his phone vibrating in his pocket making him frown. “Now go inside, let me check this and I’ll be right in.” As he fishes for his phone he pulls open the door for you, letting you walk in with a small head rush.

‘Our first rule?’

You take the moment you have some to look around the store front, a few customers are mingling about the rows of clothing, associates putting away inventory or helping their guests. A brunette is standing at the register, her hair sprayed and pinned into a tight bun atop her head. She glances at you, her nose turned up at your simple outfit, without a word of welcome she goes back to her work.

The door is opening a moment later, a small bell going off as Aaron steps in, the icy breeze trying to follow. “Sorry, David was checking in.” His voice reaches the woman at the counter, grabbing her attention. She watches as he shrugs out of his winter jacket, her gaze fixing on the flash of jewelry on his wrist with a smile.

“Is he okay?” You ask, handing Aaron your own jacket as he hangs them on a coatrack.

“Oh yes, he’s-.”

“Good afternoon, is there anything I can help you with?” You turn, the same woman from before now standing in front of you. She’s wearing a form fitting black dress, the apparent dress code for the establishment, a silver name tag pinned to her collar reading ‘Denise.’ Gone is her dismissive attitudes from before, her blue eyes staring intently at Aaron with a sly smile.

You feel something in your chest squirm, making you take a step in front of Aaron as you pull your best smile into place. “Oh thank you, but we are just-.”

A warm hands is suddenly on your shoulder, pulling you into Aaron’s side. “We’re looking for some work attire; blouses, pants, skirts and such. Along with more casual wear.” He squeezes your shoulder as you slide him a disgruntled look.

Denise regards you with a tight lipped smile, nodding her head slightly. “Of course. Right this way.” She turns on her heel, an extra sway in her her step that makes you roll your eyes as you pull out of Aaron’s grip following her. He follows behind a few paces, regarding you with masked amusement.

She takes you to the back of the store, pointing out the sections of racks you’ll need and where on the walls you can find work appropriate pants and skirts. Denise turns to Aaron once again, stepping to close for comfort as she stares openly at his suit. “You know, we have the latest in Brioni’s suit jackets that I think would complement you rather well, Mr…” She brushes her hand against his arm and your eyes widen.

“No thank you. I’ll let you know if we need any further assistance.” Aaron comes to stand beside you, his expression hard to read as he places a hand on your lower back. Denise’s eyes narrow slightly, her smile faltering before she pulls her emotions back.

“Please do.” She saunters of, throwing one last look over her shoulder.

You laugh unbelievably, “Jesus… she was a bit forward.” You turn toward the rack beside you, picking up the first shirt your eyes land on. It’s a simple white blouse with navy blue pinstripes, the neckline is a little low for your taste but otherwise it’s very pretty. You pick up the tag and instantly drop it, your mouth falling open.

“What?” Aaron asks, sliding the clothes along the pole, looking through the selection.

“This! These clothes are way to over priced.” You turn the tag towards him, and he squints at the small numbers. ‘75.56’. He frowns slightly and you think he’s about to agree with you, call this whole ridiculous thing off until he shrugs.

“That’s not so bad.” He grins at the incredulous look you level him, showing perfect teeth. “Darling you’ll come to realize the value that comes with certain things. Soon enough you’ll see the value in yourself as well.” He chucks you under the chin softly and you think that’s it.

You’re going to explode.

Everything it too much.

“Hotch, I can’t just let you waste that kind of money on me. You don’t know what you will need it for later, bills, or -.”

Aaron steps into your space again, bending down until he’s eye level with you and you clam up. His eyes are dark, burning with an intensity that has your shoulders slumping slightly. When he speaks his voice is quiet but direct, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “What did I say our first rule was?”

You stammer, your grip tightening on the fabric still in your hands. “You said… to call you Aaron.”

“Correct. So that’s one. Now, when I say I am doing something for you, buying you something, getting you something; do not doubt me. If I couldn’t, I wouldn’t. Do I make myself clear?”

All you can do is nod, your throat dry and tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. “Good girl. Now if you really find calling me Aaron to difficult, you can always call me sir.” You suddenly look like a fire had been lit underneath you, your face flushing a new shade of red he’d yet to see before. You turn away from him, trying to hide your emotions and aggressively shuffle through the clothes before you.

Aaron straightens with a satisfied smile.

*~*~*~*~*~*

An hour in and there is a mount pile of clothing in the cart in front of you. Everything you’ve selected draped over one side and everything Aaron selected on the other. You had found a discount rack, the red tags a twisted mess by now, but the 15% off sign did little to quell the guilt eating you.

“Okay… this is more clothes than I think Garcia even owns. I think we should-.” You’re talking absently, glancing up only to find Aaron is walking in the opposite direction of the checkout. “Oh for the love of all things holy.” You quickly follow, pulling the cart behind you as the hangers rattle together. He stops in front of a display of eloquent evening gowns and you follow his stare to the forefront of the display. A deep emerald green satin dress takes your breath away, with a sweetheart neckline and a slit that goes half way up the mannequins thigh. You peak around the back in awe, it plunges well down to the lower back, a sheer material with beautiful rhinestones occupying the negative space.

Aaron watches as you pick up the bottom of the dress, rubbing the buttery material between your fingers. “I would love to see you in it.”

You shake your head, though your focus remains on the dress. “There’s no reason to, when would I ever wear this? Besides we’ve been here for nearly an hour, if we don’t leave soon I’m sure Denise is going to jump your bones.”

Aaron chuckles at that with a shrug. “You might not be wrong, she’s been lurking around the corner ever since I took my jacket off and she caught sight of my watch.” You glance down at his wrist as he shows you a golden Rolex. You hum in understanding, putting the two together. A handsome, stylish man, with a nice suit and a watch that coasts a couple of grand. She sees dollar signs. “Go ask her for a fitting room.”

Glancing around you notice she’s no more than ten feet away, pretending to be busy with an already neatly arranged display of sweaters. You walk over, hands clasped behind your back. “Excuse me?”

She doesn’t bother to look up, her head tilted as if in contemplation as she stares at the stack in front of her. “Yes?”

Your jaw clenches slightly, but you smile regardless. “I’d like to try that green dress on, where are your dressing rooms?” That finally catches her attention, she looks around you to the dress your talking about and then to the cart beside Aaron, the red tags turned her way. With a bemused smile she finally looks you in the eye.

“Sorry, that dress isn’t on sale, dear. Maybe come back some other time.” Her high voice carries farther than she thinks, reaching Aaron who’s eyebrows raised in surprise before furrowing as anger bubbles in his chest.

Before you can say anything he is by your side, startling you both. “She didn’t ask you if it was on sale. She asked if you had a fitting room.” Denise pales, his voice is harsh and edged making her shift on her feet as she begins to stammer

“Well I… it was just-.”

“Just what? It’s a simple question, this is a clothing store so you must have fitting rooms. She would like one opened.” Denise can no longer keep eye contact, her gaze flickering from his face and away again. “Now.” The command in his voice makes her move, her mouth agape and she’s pointing indirectly over her shoulder. She turns, quickly walking away and you’re left to stunned to react. Aaron’s hand finds your back again, pushing you forward, his other hand on the end of the cart.

The dressing area is three beiges booths with deep red curtains for doors. A large mirror takes up one wall that is lit up like Time Square during Christmas, and there are mirrors in the booths as well. “You said the green dress?” You nod, giving her your size and she’s running off again, her head down and face red. Aaron takes a seat in one of the mahogany chairs, folding his arms across his chest. He’s watching Denise leave with that same look he gives every unsub as they are being hauled off to their final destination.

“Um… thank you, for… for that.” You speak up, breaking the silence waiting on Denise to return.

He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, his black shoe tapping the polished floor. “You don’t typically show when you’re upset or irritated, I had to step in. I also couldn’t stand by and let you be berated like that.”

This time it’s you who crosses their arms, glowering at him. “I wasn’t showing I was upset, so what she was being rude? It didn’t affect me.”

His lips pull into a sarcastic smile, head shaking. “Sweetheart, I’ve been working with you for three years, nearly four. When you get upset over something, even if it is trivial, you dig your nails into your palms. Most likely because you would rather focus on that then what’s stewing in your mind and your chest.” You blink at him, awareness washing over you as you shake out your hands, crescent indents marking your flesh.

Before you can snip at him Denise is back, placing the dress in one of the rooms and leaving without a word. Aaron raises an eyebrow and you huff, turning and walking into the booth before snatching the curtain closed. You take a moment to breath, your annoyance merging on anger as you begin to undress.

You have to force yourself to remember this is all apart of the contract, this is all small steps to whatever greater end goal he has. You can’t fully trust he’s doing this out of the kindness of his heart, no one is like that. Working a career where you catch murderers and kidnappers and rapists has shown you such. The thought lingers at the back of your mind that maybe he’s pushing you to break and go to therapy where they will force your leave. It wouldn’t happen, you’ve come to far to let anyone treat you that way.

You step out of your pants, bending down to pick them up when you notice movement in the mirror. You look up, making eye contact with Aaron from where he sits and you go still. The only thing that moves is your heart as it suddenly jumps into double time.

Aaron’s eyes slowly rake over your body, the hunger in his eyes evident even from where you stand and you can feel your body respond. Heat rushes through your veins, leaving you lightheaded. He shifts in his seat, your eyes dropping to where he tugs at his pants legs, a noticeable bulge in his lap that makes your guts clench. From anxiety? Want? Curiosity? You aren’t sure. You quickly look away, his smile turning wolfish as you straighten and spin around, giving him a full peak at the matching black bra and panties your wearing before yanking the curtain fully closed.

All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears, your fingers suddenly tingling and your lungs working for air. Shakily, checking the curtain again and again you strip out of your bra, and pull the dress over your head. The satin is soft and cool, the green leaving your skin glowing in the light. It hugs your body in ways you wouldn’t of imagined and you… like it. It screams seduction, fun, and someone you’re not but someone you once might have wanted to be…

The only issue is you can’t zip it yourself. You struggle for a few minutes, contouring your body this way or that, but you can’t get the zipper more than half way up your back.

Reluctantly you pull the curtain aside just enough to peak your head out, your eyes instantly finding Aaron’s. He raises an eyebrow, his hands clasped together in his lap and you are more than aware of why. “I need her help.” Your voice is floaty and you clear your throat. “I can’t zip it up.”

“I’ll help you.” He stands, crossing the small distance in three long strides, quicker than you can reject his help.

“Wait- no, I’m-.” But he is pulling the curtain away from the other side and you curse the interior designer with a flourish of silent profanities. In the small space he seems larger than life, all broad chest and long limbs. He steps closer and you back up, an all to familiar dance you two have rehearsed before.

He holds his hand out, a gesture of reassurance but he is still looking at you like a starved man. “Spin around, pretty girl.” Your legs feel suddenly numb, like you’d never used them before in your life as you continue to stare. “It’s okay.” He whispers, taking another half step forward.

“It’s fine, it fits well enough without it zipped I’m sure it’ll fit great when it is.” You fight to keep your body lose and face expressionless, trying to mask the feelings bubbling in your guts. Aaron doesn’t say anything, only continues to stare you down, gaze never wavering. “Really.”

“Turn around.” You don’t want to listen, but the timber of his voice makes your body ache in a way that catches you more by surprise than anything else has these past 24 hours. Cautiously you lay your hand in his, letting his pull you in before spinning you around so you’re facing the mirror. He sweeps your hair over your shoulder, his fingers grazing across the naked skin pulling gooseflesh to the surface.

You stand as still as possible, hardly breathing as he gently slides the zipper up. His palms spread across your ribs, warm through the thin fabric. “What do you think?”

“It’s a beautiful dress.” You whisper quietly, trying not to back down from his stare.

“You make it beautiful.”

“You’re only saying that.” He pulls you closer, your back hitting his chest, your body molding to his. A gasp disappears on your lips, his hips pressing into you lower back his erection prominent making you shiver.

“I can promise you I’m not.” His hand slips to your stomach, splaying across your abdomen, and a small noise hitches in your throat. He tilts his head down, pressing a tinder kiss to the crown of your head and all you can focus on is where he’s touching you and where he isn’t, but where you want him to. Your panties are suddenly slick feeling as you shift against him, his erection digging further into your ass.

“Aaron…” You try to warn, and he watches the way your eyes flutter, the shields you’ve so desperately and carefully constructed cracking under the weight of his stare. Some logical part of your brain, buried beneath the mush of your thoughts, is screaming and begging to run away. But how long had it been since you’d felt that fire in the pit of your stomach, curling your toes and making your thighs pinch together?

You’re about to open your mouth, say something, anything at all, when he is suddenly pulling away. “Come out here so I can get a better look at you.” Aaron steps behind the curtain leaving you to your spiraling thoughts and an ache you’d never imagine. Your face is flushed, eyes wide and pupils blown out over the color of your irises. It’s hard to keep the air in your lungs from rushing out in soft pants.

All you can think is that if this is how you react to a few simple words and actions, you’re screwed.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The next half hour is spent paying for your clothing, a bill Aaron wouldn’t allow you to see, then moving the bags from the car to your hotel room. You stare at them now, laid out on your bed with furrowed eyebrows and your thumbnail caught between your teeth. How would you get these in your bag and on the plane with as little notice as possible?

“Maybe we can go get you another duffle bag tomorrow.” Aaron answers as if he could read your thoughts, and if you didn’t know better you would say he did.

“It’s okay.. Thank you for the clothing.” You manage, giving him a tight smile as you glance to where he is standing at the foot of the bed.

The entire car ride was filled with tension, his presence alone setting you on edge, all while he remained calm driving down the busy streets and helping you to your room.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He smiles at you, possibly more so from your compliance, his eyes like coffee. “Would you like to join me for lunch?”

You bite your nail harder, looking back to the bags. “I’d like to just order my food to my room, I need to get this organized and finish my reports.” You expect him to argue but he only nods, coming around the bed and kissing the top of your head before he walks towards the door.

“I’ll check on you in a little while.” With that he leaves, and as the automatic lock slides into place you crumple. You sit heavily on the bed, running a hand through your hair like it might comb your thoughts back into place.

What are you doing?

What is he doing?

You groan in frustration, the feeling of not having control over what happens next beating on your bones and muscles. You haven’t relaxed since this began and you have a feeling you won’t for a long time to come.

*~*~*~*~*~*

If you would like to be tagged in the next parts please comment below and I will gladly add you! Thank you all for your support!

@kneelforloki @hmett20 @axionn @ncis0mrs0gibbs

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wantonrowls · 2 years

Text

Stray Kids headcanons: Them as Sugar Daddy

Bang Chan

As a working student, it's difficult to juggle working and studying at the same time. You earn just enough to fund your tuition fees but it's still too far to make some for yourself. It's barely enough for you to eat three meals a day or even go out and have fun so you just tend to do more part time works just so you could live by. This however, changed when your friend encouraged you to follow her and get yourself a Sugar Daddy.

She encouraged you to meet a client that was supposed to be hers but decided to give it to you since she have another booking going on, you shoot your shot and hope for the best, wearing the skimpiest skirt, doing your makeup a bit heavier than usual and wearing the sexiest perfume you own, you sat on the restaurant and waited for the client.

This was unusual, a younger male in a black suit sat in front of you. He smiles at you and introduced himself as the client. You expected the client to be a bit more older, say in late 50's so it was odd to meet someone younger. He told you he is a CFO and works in the gun industry and he wants to have a sugar baby. You sat back and think to yourself, he assured you of the price, handing you the folder to an agreement, he was far more serious about the situation and assured you that if you don't wanna do it anymore you can leave freely which is a win-win situation.

You agreed.

Since then, your rent have not been on due, you have plenty of food on the fridge, you don't go to part time work anymore and most importantly, you can focus on the Uni. Whenever he needs you, he calls from the phone he bought for you and you have to answer it quickly or else he'll get a temper. He splurges for you whenever you go shopping, giving you a pair of his black card which is a gold mine. He just knows that you know your limit and he trusts you to it. You can spend it all you want, you just have to pay him with another method.

Here we go; Having sex is not required but giving him head is a must. He loves it whenever you're cramped up under his office table while he slaps his thick cock at the pad of your tongue. He groans at the feeling whenever you straddle him on his seat while he gets to run his palms in circles at your boobs. His cock twitch in joy to the roleplay you do as his assistant whenever you arrive in a tight office skirt and glasses.

"Hey Boss, I heard you needed me" you leaned at the front of his desk, he bites his thumb at the sight of your cleavege

"Hi my pretty slut assistant, yes I needed you, come here baby" He cooes, pulling you to his seat

Whenever you run your hands under the table to his crotch if he's working or if he's in a meeting, he'll hiss in the painful erection and ends the meeting abruptly. You'll look at him innocently while his sharp gaze pins you in your seat, you're gonna be dead Y/N.

"What did you just do, Y/N?"

"What are you talking about Daddy?"

"You're teasing me Baby, I told you not to do it when other people are around right?"

"I'm sorry Daddy, you just look sexy whenever you're mad"

"Get on your knees and show me how you're sorry then"

You unexpectedly love the relationship you have with him and he is too so if you're really into him, he'll let you move in on his penthouse and have the bestest of sex for whenever you wish, with consent, of course.

When you do, he loves showering you with praises, how good you look bouncing on his thick girth, how beautiful you look even if you're smeared with his cum. How blissful it feels whenever you take him in your mouth, not waisting any drip and slurping him from the shaft like a good sugar baby.

Be ready because you're gonna be showered with his wealth. Dior, Chanel, whatever the fuck you want, he'll buy you with no hesitancy because he loves it if you're happy and loved.

Lee Know

He knows the struggle as he himself climbed from the bottom to where he is now, a CFO of multiple food companies. He's wallet is bounty as fuck when he offers one of his black card the first time he met you after you signed the agreement. He's unsure at first on what to expect from you because it's his first time too but he just made a clear statement that you don't have to do anything you don't wanna do. This includes sex and kinks and even physical touch.

At first he's distant from you. If he calls you about something say to buy you a bag or just chill with him then you better best be on time or he'll be upset because he doesn't like it if you're late. Eventually he warmed up and is more clingly than you expected. Hugs, kisses, licking and biting there's no in between. He always have to have his hands at your skin.

His kink? he's a cat person so when you went to his penthouse he showed you the personalized neck chain that he specifically bought for you. You must wear it if he needs you to.

"Daddy this looks cute"

"Yes Baby, you look wonderful wearing it. Do you like it?"

"I love it Daddy, thank you"

Bonus if you meow at him while you blow him, he'll be in a mess of his moans, locking his palms in a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back and forth.

If you kitten-lick his shaft, he goes nuts. He's weak about your mouth and if your knees hurt, he'll pin you in the bed with his knees instead, shoving himself deep to your throat so you could happily suck him

After that shenanigans he loves to take care of you, he'll scrub your body on the tub and wash your hair, you don't even have to lift a finger because he'll gladly attend to you like a monarch

If he's in a bad mood say you're late or you didn't do what he asked you to do then you have to be on all fours and beg for his mercy, locking you on his bedroom.

"Baby what have I told you about being late? Hmm?" he asks while his thumb grazes at the bottom of your lip

"I'm sorry Daddy, I had to run a errand real quick"

"But my time is much more important, yes?"

"I'm really sorry Daddy, what do you want me to do so you could accept my apology?"

He won't really care if you're in a coughing mess at his girth, you earned it because you wronged him and the only way for him to turn his mood around is if he's balls burried deep on your mouth and your eyes are watering, only then he'll be gentle and sit you to the bed so he could burry his head on your chest

Even if you don't ask for it he'll buy it for you say a dress or a certain book that you were just glancing at at the mall. Chilling with him means that he'll rent the whole fucking place

"Daddy why does my name written in this contract?"

"My Baby said she wants Mcdonalds"

"Yeah….the food, I mean?"

"Oh"

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