#been a killer week at work but i just had to do something for the hanguangjun đĽş
genuinely cannot understand why people wont take covid seriously and then i remember abt the flu and want to light myself on fire
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Baked Goodies â¤ď¸ Aaron Hotchner
⥠SUMMARY: aaron is smitten for his new graduate student neighbor as soon as he meets her.
⥠WARNINGS: male masturbation, allusions to smut but nothing fully written (part 2?), tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining & slowburn, mentions of drinking and alcohol, mentions of criminal minds-esque violence, age gap (mid 20s/mid 40s)
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Aaron doesnât think heâs ever blushed before now. The warmth on his cheeks was an unfamiliar feeling, as was the smile that was slowly making its way across his face. âThank you,â He says with a voice thatâs slightly lower than his usual tone. His hand reached out to grab the Tupperware container you were holding in yours. He tried to ignore the gentle shock that reached his fingertips as they made contact with yours. He also tried to ignore how soft the skin of your manicured hand was. It was probably a lotion, one with the same lavender scent radiating off your body.
âNo need to thank me!â Your voice was so lively, so excitable. It was unlike anything heâd ever heard before. âIf you ever need any more baked goods, Iâm right across the street.â As you spoke, you lifted your arm to point at the house across the street from his.
You were his new neighbor. The house had been on sale for a few weeks and Aaron had been keeping his eye on it, seeing who the new family would be. He was hoping it would be a family that had a child similar to Jackâs age. He didnât have any friends in the neighborhood, they all lived a few blocks over. Having someone Jack could bond with right across the street would make things easier for both him and his son. Especially when Aaron had to leave for days or weeks at a time due to his job.
But, selfishly, he was not disappointed it was you at all. You hadnât disclosed if it was just you living in the house or not, but Aaron had already formed an imaginary life for you. It was just you and some pet living in the house, and he was going to be the protector. Heâd check on you, youâd come to him when you need some manly job done at the house. And he hadnât known you for more than five minutes yet.
âIâll keep that in mind,â he said with a slight chuckle. âIt was nice to meet you, Aaron!â You called to him as you stepped off his porch, heading to the next house to take your fresh-baked goods to. He closed the door, stepping in and taking a look at the container youâd dropped off. It had a mix of different treats, all homemade. There was a little note inside.
âJack, I got food!â He yelled to his son as he made his way to the kitchen. He quickly sat it down, opened it, and took out the note before Jack could see it. âHi! Iâm Y/N, your new neighbor! I hope you enjoy these! (p.s. thereâs no peanuts!) xâ is what the note read. He smiled at the fact that you didnât give off any real personal information, and even more at the fact that you worried about the allergies of the neighborhood. Not even people you knew. You were worried about the allergies of strangers. He felt his blush come back.
âWhatâs that?â Jackâs voice tore him away from his thoughts. âSomeone moved into the house across the street, she baked some stuff and is giving it out,â Aaron explained. âFor free?â Jack inquired, reaching for a chocolate chip cookie. Aaron laughed, âYeah, she was introducing herself.â Jack nodded, biting into his cookie. âWow!â He exclaimed, surprised at how good it tasted. Aaron laughed again, reaching for one of his own.
It was almost a week before Aaron saw you again. The team had been called in to work on a semi-local case that lasted four days. It wasnât the worst thing Aaron had been through, but itâs never easy to come face-to-face with a serial killer. Then, heâd just become busy with paperwork and Jackâs after-school activities. Aaron had helped coach one of his soccer games, which wasnât something he got to do often.
So now, late Sunday morning, he was finally making the walk across the street to your house. He had planned this since the moment youâd dropped the Tupperware container into his hand. He was going to return it just so he could see you again.Â
He gently knocked on your door, loud enough you would hear it if you were around, but not loud enough to wake you up if youâd decided to sleep in today. He hadnât seen enough to observe your routine. Not in a creepy way, just the way you notice when your neighborâs car is in its driveway or if they do yardwork every Saturday evening. Come to think of it, he didnât know any of his neighborâs routines. He was never around enough to notice them.
When you opened the door, his attention left the surrounding houses and landed right on you. He had been looking around upon realizing how little he knew about the people in his neighborhood. Youâd be the first one heâd get to know, he decided.
âAaron!â You were basically beaming at him. He smiled and mumbled out a, âhelloâ. âHow are you today?â You smiled, stepping out onto the porch to stand near him. âIâm good, I was just coming to return the container.â He explained, holding out the Tupperware. You reached out to take it from him, looking at his hands. You couldnât help but notice the veins that ran along them.
âOh! You didnât have to,â You chuckled, moving your eyes up to look at his again. If you were being honest, youâd been surprised when he answered the door. Chatter about the older man from the neighbors you had given your baked goods to prior to arriving at his house had you ready to be nervous and intimidated.
Instead, you were undeniably attracted to him. When he had first opened the door after hearing your timid knocks, you couldnât help but let your eyes scan his broad form. You didnât think he had noticed, as he was too busy trying to figure out why someone was unexpectedly knocking at his door.
âDid you like them?â You asked with wide eyes. He could tell you were genuinely curious. âI did,â He smiled as he continued, âWith the few that I had at least. My son loved them.â
âYour son?â You couldnât stop yourself from asking. Of course, an attractive man like him was married with kids. You werenât sure why hadnât assumed that before. âYeah, Jack. Heâs my son.â Aaron was awkward, not really knowing what you were asking. You recovered quickly, âWhich ones were his favorite? I can make more!â Aaron smiled with a slight shake of his head, âHe loved them all, you donât have to worry about any of that.â You laughed, âI do! I love baking, itâs a nice way to pass time.â Aaron nodded along to your words, âI guess he liked the brownies the most, they were gone in a day.â You smiled, taking a mental note.Â
âAnd your wife?â There was a hidden motive behind this question, one you hoped Aaron didnât pick up on. You wanted, no, needed to know the details of this manâs life. You needed to know if you could keep up the fantasy you were creating of him. He let out an awkward laugh, âUh, no,â he cleared his throat, âNo wife. Just me and Jack.â You almost wanted to break out into a smile at his words, but you knew that would be inappropriate.
âIâm sorry, I didnât mean to like, pry, or anything.â The awkward tone of the conversation was beginning to make you uncomfortable. As much as you wanted to know, you didnât want to blow your chances with him. âItâs okay,â he comforts you when it should definitely be the other way around, âJust a bit of a touchy subject.â You nodded in understanding. You two stood there in silence for a little bit, before Aaron stepped back. âI should get back,â He said, nodding towards his house.
âYeah, yeah. It was good to see you again.â Aaron took note of the awkward smile and lack of eagerness in your voice. âYou too, Y/N. See you around.â He stuck his hands in his pockets as he walked down the steps of your porch
He was just reaching the curb on his side of the street when he heard someone yell your name. You hadnât retreated back into your house, instead opting to tidy up the furniture on your porch. He didnât know you were waiting to make sure he had made it into the house safely. Aaron watched as the man who lived two houses down from you began to approach your porch.
âThe cookies were delicious!â The man was still shouting as he walked over. Aaron couldnât tear his eyes away from you. He watched as you giggled at his words, yelling back, âThank you!â When the man approached you, he handed off the same kind of Tupperware container Aaron had given you. Aaron couldnât help the jealousy that took over him as he realized this man and he had the same idea: returning the container just to see you again.
Once the man reached you and Aaron could no longer hear your conversation, he turned to continue walking back toward his home. He couldnât help but notice how you giggled at this manâs words. Your conversation with him felt so natural, which was very different from the uncomfortable conversation you two had.
Aaron couldnât help but feel insecure about this. Of course, youâd want to conversate with the younger, handsome, athletic guy who lived in the neighborhood. Why would you choose an older man who had a child and knees that creaked when he stood from his office chair? You wouldnât. No one would.
Little did Aaron know, you had been watching him the entire time you were talking to the neighbor. You couldnât help but check Aaron out as he walked away. His sweatpants hugged his hips deliciously and the athletic fit shirt showed off the muscles in his back. Aaron was hot and you couldnât deny it.
The next time you saw Aaron was very unexpected. Your friend, Elise, had convinced you to volunteer at the local middle school, working the door for entry to the soccer game they were hosting on a Friday night. Part of her grad school program involved her working at this school, so you guys had signed up together. She was excited to see the students she had been working closely with.
 You, however, had completely forgotten you had a paper due for one of your graduate classes. So, she was up, selling tickets, conversating with parents, and wishing the students good luck, while you had your nose buried in your laptop. Textbooks and articles were spread across the table that was holding the register for the ticket money.
âJack! Youâre gonna do great!â You heard Elise encourage one of the students, not really paying attention anymore. It wasnât until you heard a familiar voice that you looked up from your halfway-done paper. âHeâs been practicing hard,â Aaron smiled, touselling the hair on the little boyâs head.
Your movement from behind your laptop caught his attention. âHello, Y/N,â he said, not expecting to see you there. Jack and your friend both turned to face you, surprised that you and Aaron knew each other.
Aaron pushed Jack forward with a gentle hand on his back, âBuddy, do you remember the cookies and stuff our neighbor had dropped off?â Aaron asked him, ready to introduce you two. âYou made them?â Jack asked, stepping closer to you. You nodded at him with a smile, âYes! I live across the street from you!â You smiled at the young boy. You didnât notice the eyebrow raise your friend gave you, knowing about the crush you had said you were growing on your older neighbor. She was connecting the dots.
âDo you work here?â Aaron asked as Jack ran into the stadium to join his team. You shook your head, pointing to Elise, âShe does. She needed volunteers and asked me to work.â Aaron nodded. He let out a light laugh and pointed to your laptop, âDoesnât seem like you're doing a lot of work.â
Your cheeks started to warm up in embarrassment, âI have a paper due that I completely forgot about.â Aaron was shocked to hear you discussing college. He thought you were older than that. âYouâre in college?â He asked. You nodded again, âGrad school. I only have one more semester until I graduate.â You explained, and he relaxed. You were older than an undergraduate.Â
He knew you were young, but he didnât think he was being perverted by forming a small crush on you. Sure, some people may deem it inappropriate, but it is up to you in the end. If, by some miniscule chance, you harbored the same feelings he did, he wouldnât feel weird about it, he didnât think.
Aaron questioned what you were studying and you explained your major, your intended career, and how passionate you were about what you were doing. As your face lit up and your hands aided in your expressive explanation, it was as if Aaron could feel fondness growing in his chest. He began to feel warm, as if you were the sun shining on him.
 He hasnât felt like this in a long time. The only feeling that could mirror what he was feeling now was when Jack got crowned MVP at his last soccer tournament. Itâs the kind of pride that you feel when you know someone is going to go far. Aaron wanted to go with you.
Unfortunately, the buzzer interrupted his thoughts. He let out a breath, a small âShitâ escaping from his lips before he continued, âI gotta get to my seat.â He chucked, rushing away, âGood to see you.â He nodded at you and your friend before disappearing into the stadium.
âSo thatâs him? The hot next-door neighbor?â Elise squealed, with a wiggle of her eyebrows. âElise! Stop!â You whisper-shouted at her, still weary of Aaronâs presence, âI have a paper to finish.â She laughed at the way you made your eyes big, emphasizing that she needed to drop the subject.
âOkay,â Elise breathed out after a while, relaxing in the seat next to you, âweâre done!â You nodded at her words, moving to save the file on your laptop. âWhatâs next?â You asked as you closed it, deciding to finish the paper later. âYou hungry? The concession stand has fantastic pizza!â Even if you werenât, the way she practically moaned about it had you wanting this pizza. âSure,â you shrugged. You packed up your things as Elise dropped off the register where it needed to go, and then you guys headed into the stadium.
The line for the concession stand moved quickly. You couldnât help but scan the stands for Aaron, wondering where he ended up sitting. When Elise proposed staying to see the end of the game, you agreed, solely because it would increase your chances of seeing him again.
And, you did. Not until the very end of the game, after the buzzer had sounded and Jackâs team ran to the sidelines, celebrating the win they had just claimed. The only way you found Aaron was through the cheers. He was the loudest one, the proudest parent sitting amongst the whole school. It brought a smile to your face to know how much he loved his son.
âCongratulations, kid!â Elise cheered for Jack as he approached the entrance to the field, by where you two were standing waiting to congratulate the team. Jack just smiled before turning back to his friends. âYou guys did great!â You called from behind her. Aaron smiled at you as he reached where you and Elise were stood.
âSo, will you guys be at more games?â He wasnât going to invite you, as he felt that would be overstepping some invisible boundary he had made up in his head. But, if you were going to be around anyway he could at least offer to sit with you. âI definitely will be!â Elise cheered, turning to you. âIâll see. You never know with school and work.â You shrugged, trying to mask the disappointment. You were not aware that Aaron was doing the same.
âDad!â Jack shouts, running over to his father, âCan I sleep at Chrisâ house tonight? The whole team is going!â You couldnât help but notice how adorable he looked, and the fond look Aaron gave back to him. âSure thing, buddy. Letâs just run home to get your stuff.â Aaron turned to bid a quick goodbye to you and Elise. To your surprise, he turned back to you. âDid you need a ride home?â
You stuttered at his words, âUh, no, um, Elise-â âYes, she does! I was her ride but my boyfriend just asked to meet somewhere!â Elise nudged you as she cut you off. She waved her phone to emphasize her point. âThanks, Mr. Hotchner, youâre the best! Have fun at your sleepover, Jack!â Elise said as she stepped away from the group. Once you were the only one that could see her, she threw you a big smile and thumbs up, before taking off to your car.
âIâm sorry, I didnât realize that happened,â You gestured to your friend running off as you apologized. âNo need to be sorry, I wouldnât have offered if it bothered me. Itâs not like you live far away.â You nodded and smiled at Aaronâs comforting words, thanking him again. âCâmon, the carâs this way.â You followed him and Jack, watching as Aaron congratulated Jack on the win and questioned him on the different strategies the team uses throughout.
Aaron opened the passenger door as Jack climbed his way into the back. Your jaw almost dropped as you realized he opened it for you. It was so casual. He didnât even stop his conversation with Jack as he held it open for you. He laughed at something as you buckled your seat belt up.
 When he leaned over to check that you were comfortable in the seat, his eyes met yours. He gave you the softest smile youâd ever seen and you could feel butterflies take flight in your stomach. Your cheeks felt warm and you looked down at your hands, growing nervous under his gaze. You mumbled a soft âthank youâ as he closed your door, walking around to the driverâs side.
Aaron noticed your nervousness this time. He could tell you were shocked at his actions. Initially, this made him sad as he realized that no man had ever shown you the care you deserved. However, that sadness quickly turned to excitement as he realized he could be the first. He wanted to show you how you deserved to be loved in so many ways, definitely more than just opening a door for you.
The drive to your homes was filled with laughter as you and Jack tried to sing the pop songs that were steadily playing on the radio. Jack kept stumbling over the words and you could not carry a tune to save your life. Aaron had matching butterflies to yours as you interacted with his son.
His car pulled into the driveway and Jack was inside the house faster than you could even open your door. You both laughed as Aaron made his way around the car to stand with you. âI can walk you across while he gets his things,â Aaron gestured to his house, indicating Jack might be a second inside.
âYou donât have to. Get him to his sleepover, he seems excited.â Aaron laughed, nodding along to your words. âHave a good night, Aaron.â He wished you the same and watched as you made your way to your house. His eyes didnât leave your figure until you were safely inside.
Jack gathered his things for the sleepover very quickly. Aaron was almost certain he had forgotten something as they made their way back into the car. Once they were buckled and on their way, Jack shifted his body to face his dad.
âDad?â He asked, getting his fatherâs attention. Aaron let out a gentle âhmmâ of recognition. âDo you have a crush on our neighbor?â Aaron didnât answer, reaching forward to turn up the radio, but the pink spreading across his dadâs cheeks was the only answer Jack needed.
Aaron was exhausted. Completely and totally exhausted. The case and been long and gut-wrenching. The only victory was the arrest of the unsub, as he had murdered all of his previous victims before the team could save them. Aaron was gone for two and a half weeks, and barely got any sleep while he was away.
âThanks, JJ,â His voice was weak as he thanked her, reaching into the back of the SUV to get his go-bag. He had been too tired to drive himself. JJ had kindly offered after seeing the dark eye bags he was wearing. âAnytime, Hotch. Get some sleep.â He could only muster up a nod in return.
Aaron was turning the key in his lock when he heard your door. âShit!â You yelped as the glass outer door slammed. He turned around with a chuckle, never too tired to see you. âHello, Y/N!â He called as best he could with how tired he was.
He was suddenly wide awake when you faced him. He hoped you couldnât see his eyes scan the entirety of your body, pausing at your very exposed thighs. You were in a loose, long-sleeved t-shirt that came down the end of your butt. The shorts you were wearing with it were incredibly short, barely covered by the shirt. Even with the distance between your houses, he could tell you werenât wearing a bra.
He wanted to blame the way his dick was hardening on how tired he was, and definitely not the dirty thoughts he was having about you right now. He could imagine the way his rough hands would trace the skin across your thighs as he pulled you into his lap, preparing to devour you. His fantasies did not slow as you yelled back to him, very excitedly, âAaron! Where have you been?â
He shook his head, attempting to clear it so he could have a normal conversation with you. His heart fluttered at the fact that youâd noticed his disappearance. âI was away for work,â he informed, âfor far too long.â You erupted into a smile, walking off your porch, âWell, the neighborhood missed you!â He knew you were lying. No one in this neighborhood knew him. They didnât care if he was gone or not.
But, being a profiler had its perks. He knew the hidden meaning in your words. You missed him. His brain was tired and his heart was beating a million times a minute. That mustâve been why his mouth was moving before he could stop it, âI missed you too.â The words rolled off of his tongue, no thought behind them. No thoughts, but definitely feelings.
You hoped Aaron couldnât see the way your eyes lit up at his words. You could feel the heat growing in your cheeks as you continued to make your way to your little garden. Thatâs why you were out here, to get your front yard set up for Halloween decorations. âGet some rest, Aaron. Welcome home.
Even with you raising your voice, he could hear the softness behind it. You sounded so fond. This is how he wanted to be welcomed home after every case, with your sweet voice and gentle demeanor. âHave a nice night!â He called to you, before stepping through his front door.
He dropped his stuff by the door and reached up to loosen his tie. He kicked his shoes off and then moved to undo his belt. Leaving both the tie and the belt on the arm of the couch, he made his way right to the master bathroom. He had texted Jessica to let her know he would pick Jack up in the morning during the drive home, too tired to make the drive to her house.
Aaron had forgotten about his half-hard dick, too encompassed by your presence outside. He ignored it, stripping down and climbing into the hot shower. He hadnât realized how tense his muscles were until the hot water ran down them, relaxing his whole body. As he loosened up, his mind drifted back to you. As he imagined holding onto your thighs as he fucked into you from behind. He could clearly make out the curve of your ass.
He felt as if he wasnât controlling himself as his hands moved to his now fully hard dick. He didnât mean to jerk himself off to dirty thoughts of you, his brand new, younger neighbor, but you looked so fucking sexy. His hand wrapped around his cock tighter as he remembered the outline of your tits that he could make out from across the street.
He could feel himself getting closer and closer to release as he tried to imagine the noises you would make for him. All the times you said his name replayed in his name and he tried to imagine you moaning it, whining it, grunting it, screaming it. He couldâve sworn he could smell your lavender perfume as he came. He opened his eyes as he finished stroking himself through his orgasm. He watched as the water washed away the cum that had landed on his hand and stomach.
âFuck,â he said to himself, frustrated with the hold you had on him. Now that he got that out of his system, he couldnât believe he just came to the thought of you.
 He had been having doubts earlier, wondering how inappropriate, how immoral, how wrong his growing crush was. Being a senior in graduate school, you had to be late 20s, maybe early 30s at the most. Being mid-40s, there was at least a 15-year age gap between the two of you.
He had to shake these thoughts. He quickly lathered himself up, rinsed off, and got out of the shower. He slipped on a pair of boxers and climbed into his bed. He was asleep in less than five minutes.
The next morning, he was woken up by knocks on his door. He had slept for about 11 hours, so he wasnât mad that his slumber was interrupted. âComing!â He yelled, shuffling for pants to throw on. Once he got a pair of plaid pajama pants on, he made his way down the hall to the front door.
He didnât have time to register who it was before he heard your voice, âIâm so sorry to wake you up! I know itâs early but my car wonât start and I have an exam at one and I really need to be on time so I was wondering if maybe you could come look at it?â
Your mouth was moving faster than your brain could keep up with, obviously feeling bad about the whole situation. âSlow down,â Aaron breathed out, trying to get you to relax. His efforts failed as you ran your hand along your hairline and mumbled an ââm sorryâ. âI can come, give me just a minute.â He stepped back, opening the door further for you to step inside to wait.
Your eyes widened at his silent invitation. You followed him through the door, awkwardly standing by the front door. You could tell from your spot in the entryway that the layout of his house mirrored yours. He was currently on his way down the hall to the master bedroom. To get a shirt, you presumed.
You definitely noticed the lack of clothing on his part. It was clear youâd disturbed him, and while you felt bad about that, you were ridiculously grateful. His morning voice, low-rise pajama pants, and hairy chest will be pressed into your memory, ready to be used when you needed some help finishing yourself off.
He appeared again quickly, fully clothed with socks and slides on his feet. He opened the front door, gesturing for you to go through. He followed you across the street to your driveway, where your very old sedan sat. âCan I have the key?â You nodded, retrieving the key from your pocket and pressing it into Aaronâs large hand.
As Aaron went to start the car, it was hard for him not to realize that this was the dream life he had conjured up for you when you first showed up on his porch. Here he was, being the manly man, helping you with your car. He tried turning it on and the sound of the engine sputtering made you want to cry. Without words, Aaron walked around to pop the hood, analyzing what was going on. He was quiet as he looked, and you wouldnât dare interrupt it. âI think itâs the spark plugs. I have the stuff in my garage.â He said after a few minutes.
You nodded along to his words, trying to convince him that you knew exactly what he was talking about. As he began to make his way back across the street, you couldnât help yourself from apologizing again. âThank you, Aaron. Iâm really sorry.â He was quick to turn back around to face you. With a hefty shake of his head, he spoke, âPlease stop apologizing, this is what Iâm here for.â He smiled at you, before returning to his journey to the garage.
If you were growing a crush on him before, it was full-fledged now. You needed to do something about this before your heart exploded at his actions and you soaked through your underwear at his words.
He returned after a few minutes, carrying a toolbox. You couldnât do anything but stare as he worked on the car. He didnât say much, focused on doing this right for you. Every once in a while he would attempt to explain what he was doing, but you were too distracted by the way the muscles in his arm contorted as he worked.
âThat should do it,â He said as he made his way back into the driverâs seat. Sure enough, after a few turns of the key, the car sputtered to life. âOh my god, thank you!â You spoke as he stepped up from the seat, throwing your arms around his neck. âYouâre a lifesaver!â You squealed. Aaronâs hands awkwardly found their way around your waist, surprised at the sudden contact. Surprised, but very intrigued.
When you pulled away, Aaron felt cold. âNot a problem, Y/N.â He said as he wiped the grim off of his hands. âWhy donât you give me your number so next time you donât have to walk all the way over?â The way he asked was so casual. He was so calm as your heartbeat increased with every word. Your number? Next time?
âYeah! Sure!â You were afraid your voice sounded too excited, blowing your cover. Aaron picked up on it but didnât mention it. You two quickly exchanged numbers, and he excused himself, stating he needed to pick up Jack. âSeriously, Aaron. Thank you.â You emphasized, grabbing his hand and pulling him forward. You were being bold. You pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek. He turned away before you could see the pink blush spread across his cheeks. âAnytime.â He said, starting to walk away.
You spent the next couple of hours cramming for your exam and trying to repress any thoughts of Aaron Hotchner that your brain was attempting to conjure up. It was working, your focus on passing this exam. However, on your drive to campus, your phone dinged. Your car showed you a message from âAaron (neighbor)â. You were giddy the rest of the way, not wanting to open while you were driving.
When you parked, you opened your phone to a simple text: âGood luck on your exam! You got this.â You walked into class with a smile, and you were pretty sure you aced the exam.Â
You were surprised at the amount of time you and Aaron spent texting. It was definitely an assumption you had made based solely on his age, but you did not expect him to want to text. However, he appeared to be better than men your age at it. Quick replies, letting you know when heâd be unavailable, and absolutely never leaving on you read. Sometimes you had to explain emojis or slang to him, but you found it adorable.
You had learned that he works for the FBI in a unit that catches things like serial killers, rapists, and kidnappers. He was away on a case right now, somewhere in California. He had learned that you had a very old dog, but other than that, it was just you in the house.
There were times when the conversation felt a bit flirty. Teasing jokes thrown around, compliments to each other. Part of you was starting to think he may reciprocate your feelings, but the other part was starting to think you were delusional. There was no way he could ever like you back.
Until he did.
Elise and a few of your other friends had dragged to a bar downtown. One you had never been to. Like normal, you and Aaron were in the middle of a text conversation while you were sitting at the bar. You had been up and dancing, having fun with your friends, but you couldnât stay away from your phone long enough to enjoy your time.
Elise was picking up on this. After a few rounds of shots, she was getting aggravated. She couldnât comprehend how you were managing an intelligent conversation with him, but she knew she had to get you away from it. She kept telling herself it was for your own good, not wanting to feel guilty about the atrocities she was about to commit.
However, it was going to be so much worse than either of you had anticipated.
Elise slithered her way in between you and the person sitting on the barstool next to you. The older lady on your right was definitely agitated with her actions, but Elise did not care. She saw the white screen of your text messages and long contact name and knew who you were texting. Even in her drunken state, she could recall all of the screenshots you had been sending her from your conversations with Aaron.
âGive it here,â Elise slurred, reaching for your phone. It was still unlocked as she held it in her tight grasp. âYouâre texting your hot middle-aged neighbor. Come shake some ass with us and find a guy your own age.â Her words were a little bit harsher than she intended. âElise, stop. Iâm enjoying texting my hot middle-aged neighbor and do not want to find a guy my own ageâ You demanded with your own drunken slur, reaching for the phone. âUh-uh,â Elise shook her head, locking the phone and tucking into the cup of her bra, out of your reach for the rest of your night.
Only because you were forced to, you eventually did get up and dance with your friends. Just your friends, no men at all.
Elise only returned your phone at the very end of the night, when you needed to order an Uber home. Your head was starting to spin from all the alcohol, so that was all you did. After the order was placed, you gripped your phone as a way to keep the world from twirling underneath. The Uber arrived, too slow for your liking, and you were home. You immediately made your way towards the couch, ready to pass out.
The loud knocks on your door did nothing to help the pounding headache you had woken up with, and you couldnât imagine who was knocking. The knocks were powerful and authoritarian. âHello?â You questioned as you threw open the door. There was clearly attitude behind your greeting. âWhat did that mean?â Aaronâs voice sounded rushed as he pushed himself inside the door. He was dressed in a suit and acting very different than the Aaron you had known before.
âThe message, the last one you sent.â He seemed stressed, running his hand through his hair. Something about the way he looked made him look exhausted. Your eyebrows furrowed, not understanding what he meant. You grabbed your phone from the end table next to your couch and opened your and Aaronâs message thread. Your eyes widened at the voice message marked as âread: 1:32 AMâ.
âI-I donât know,â you stuttered out, afraid to meet his eye, âWhat did it say?â Aaron took a step away from you. âIt was Ms. Landon, uh, your friend from the game,â He sounded nervous as he spoke, âYou should just listen to it.â You nodded, checking the volume on your phone and then listening to the message
It was right after Elise had grabbed your phone when she was berating you for being on your phone the whole time. When she mentioned your hot middle-aged neighbor and you replied, also calling him your hot middle-aged neighbor. And saying you did not want to find a guy your age because of him.
âAaron, I am so sorry-â You started, wanting to apologize for your and your friendâs actions and blame the whole thing on being intoxicated, but he cut you off. âForgive me for barging in here like this, Y/N, but I need to know why you were ignoring your friends to text me.â He finally locked eyes with you, and the eye bags under his eyes were the first thing you noticed.
There was a beat of silence, until he continued, âY/N, I have enjoyed the sparse moments we have shared together. And I may be reading this wrong, I may just be incredibly sleep-deprived, but I think you have as well. I understand that I am older than you, but I would like to continue to have these moments with you. I would like to see what else we can do together.âÂ
Your heart started to beat at his confession. You nodded at his words, rendered speechless for the first time in your life. You couldnât stop yourself as your legs moved forward, reaching for his face and pulling him into a kiss.
There was very little hesitation as Aaronâs hands slipped around your waist, pulling you closer. You didnât know heâd been waiting to do this since you met, but you were going to find out soon. His hands gripped you tighter as he deepened the kiss, moving his tongue into your mouth. He was very skillful in the way he held you and the way he kissed you.
You didnât separate until you needed air. If it wasnât for the fact that you needed air to live, you couldâve stayed wrapped up with him forever. Your forehead was pressed to his as you whispered, âAre we gonna talk about this?â He knew that you were talking about where you were supposed to go from here. Is it gonna be a relationship? Are you going to be exclusive? How would it work with him being away so much? What would your role in Jackâs life be?
Aaron decided all of these questions would remain unanswered as he said, âLater, we got things to do right now..â He pulled you tight against him, roughly pressing his lips to yours again.
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Benign
Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Marrying a former Soviet sleeper agent was your first mistake. Letting curiosity get the better of you and saying his trigger words before sex was your second.
Warnings: 18+. DUBCON - Bucky is partly brainwashed; R is reluctant at first. Reliving past trauma (i.e., grief, prior HYDRA captivity). Rough, unprotected p-in-v.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Marrying into the mob meant one of two things: turning a blind eye to your husbandâs crimes or taking them up as your own. Most of the women who had gone before you chose the former, leading lives of willful ignorance while their spouses cut deals, shed blood, stole guns, and submitted only to the laws of secrecy and discretion.
You, unlike those wives, hadnât had the luxury of choice.
Your life, unlike theirs, had been sold to a man you didnât know, by a father you couldnât stand, and now your dad was dead, and this manâyour husbandâwas to blame.
The least Bucky could do was fuck you hard to say sorry.
But no, ever since the Winter Soldier had reared its ugly head that dreadful night in Madripoor two weeks prior, your husband hadnât laid one finger on your body that was not soft, sweet, and sickeningly apologetic to you. He seemed almost scared to initiate sex, and when he did, couldnât help but act like a touch might break you.
After all, one almost had. Those hands heâd hear you beg and plead to put on you now were the very same ones heâd used to kill dozens, if not hundreds, including blood of your own blood. To the world, Buckyâs reputation commanded fear. To his wife, now, he felt duly obliged to prove he was moreâthat you were safe with him, not from him. Heâd carted you off to every GP, hematologist, nutritionist, and grief specialist lauded among Brooklynâs elite to make that happen. Fast. Frankly, these days, the thought of fucking was the furthest thing from his mind.
Unbeknownst to Bucky, somewhere along the spectrum of grief, youâd already come to settle comfortably at the âNeed-to-be-fucked-until-I-can-no-longer-think-or-feelâ phase, and every bone in your body was crying out for respite in the form of ruthless, mind-numbing sex. It didnât make sense. You hardly knew what to do with it. You should have lashed out, shut down, cried rivers and lakes of tears for that integral part of family that had been lost, but for whatever reason, you had to go numb.
You wanted to do something really, really fucking dumb.
Remorseful as he was, Bucky and his explanations for who or what the Winter Soldier was had been sparse. Heâd told you that he had once been held in captivity by HYDRA, had his brain re-wired some way to make him a merciless Soviet sleeper agent, and that the night in Madripoor was the first in ages he had been âactivated.â How did activation happen? Of course, he wouldnât tell.
But Steve would.
Steve had told you everything you wanted to know about your soldat, describing in painstaking detail how he worked, trained, operated, and could be called to action. You were almost certain Rogers had said it all as a way to assure you that it wasnât Bucky whoâd killed your fatherâit was someone inside him. You were more than positive Steve had never intended for you to use his intel like this.
You hadnât believed him. Couldnât believe him. How the fuck could someone sever all ties to their conscious mind and just transform anew into a killer? You got to be hell-bent on knowing for certain whether itâd been Bucky or him, it, whatever the hell the Winter Solider was, and on knowing it now. If your husband was faking it all and simply using this persona to justify the killing, that would be it. Trust gone, marriage over. If he wasnât, wellâŚyou hadnât gotten that far into your own line of thinking.
âTell me what you want, doll,â Bucky said, pulling you back to the present.
He shifted gently against you, cotton trousers raising the friction a little as he slotted between your legs. He was still dressed head-to-toe from his meeting that morning.
âI want you to fuck me. Make me cum. Please.â
You were bare, save for one small scrap of linen and lace that somehow passed as a nightie. Your gaze was soft.
Bucky didnât want to say no, but he also felt too guilty to say yes. The way you were watching him now, eyes so helpless and pleading, body writhing for contact, he knew you didnât want his touch so much as needed it. Desperately. Couldnât bear to be burdened with grief so you brushed it aside, to the furthest recesses of your mind until all that was left was desire. Starvation, really.
He could satiate you for now, but that hunger might not ever leave. The corners of his lips twitched into a frown.
âGentle?â he mumbled.
âRough,â you countered.
âBabyââ
âI really donât need another fucking lecture on death, Bucky. I know Iâm not myself right now, but I can still make these decisions, okay? Donât talk to me like I canât.â
Anger flashed in your eyes for a second, then indignation, then nothing. Without much energy left, you pushed him away. Flopped back on the bed and, seeming to sink into yourself, heaved a low, feeble sigh.
âI know. Hey,â Bucky leaned over to press a touch to your tummy, and it made you want to hurl, âIâm sorry.â
You turned onto your side.
âYou still donât remember what happened?â
The question came suddenly, almost from somewhere outside your body, it seemed. For the hundredth time.
âNo,â Bucky answered, for what felt like the thousandth.
âThis Winter Soldierââ
âHe isnât me.â
âYou didnât know?â
âCouldnât know. WasnâtâŚprogrammed for it.â
Bucky was watching you now, eyes as contrite as theyâd ever been while you rehashed this subject to the brink of tears. He never could stay composed when he saw you cry.
âBabyâŚâ he started, arms reaching out for you.
Eyes still filling with tears, you shook your head and swatted him off. You sat up, and your brows pinched together in a look he couldnât read. Contemplating.
At last, you made up your mind.
You would try something newâand really, really stupid:
âZhelaniye.â
âWhat?â
Buckyâs own expression contorted with uncertainty.
ââsemnadtsat, rzhaviy, rasvetââ
He heard that. He immediately wished he hadnât.
âWaitââ
You were curious. You had no idea what you were doing.
âBaby, baby, stopââ
ââpech, devyatââ
You were speaking so fast, surely it wouldnât work like that. Either way, he had to stop you. He seized your arms, giving a sharp, deliberate shake, pupils blown to the size of saucers in his eyes. There wasnât much time.
âDonâtââ
ââadinââ
No time at all.
ââdothisdonâtfuckingdothishoneyplease.â
Losing himself already. Feeling it stir inside his mind.
ââdobroserdechniyââ
âKind-hearted.â âBenignâ. You truly had no clue what these words were liable to do, much less what they meant.
Having enunciated this last part, you swallowed. Took the tip of your tongue and rolled it left-to-right across the backs of your teeth, waiting for your speech to take effect like some magical performance before your eyes.
It hadnât, it seemed. You blinked. He blinked. You sat in a protracted silence for what seemed like seventeen years, and presently, your stomach began to churn. Nothing happenedâyouâd been right about this fuckery all along.
Then you remembered one last word of the sequence.
Faintly, you said:
âSoldat.â
The man above you straightened. Sitting. Stiff. Still perched by your legs at a comfortable distance but regarding you now with a pointed stare. Expectancy made manifest in a simple, sharp glare from his eyes to yours.
â...Bucky?â
The look on his face grew even harder. For a time, he persisted in that strange and silent grimace, and just when you started to suspect he was faking this whole demeanor of deadened stoicism, you heard a voice. Clawing out of his throat but sounding nothing like him:
âWho the hell is Bucky?â
The words drove a fear to the greatest depths of your bones, and you hardly knew why. You stared back at the handsome, barren man still watching you with severity, and you couldnât seem to find your husband anywhere.
âJames?â You werenât sure why you tried his name again. You just didnât know what else to say.
The scowl seeped into his mouth, and he frowned.
âJames,â he repeated, like the word was foreign to him.
You found yourself shuffling back on the bed just thenâto what, you didnât know. You just felt a gnawing need to put some space between you and this person, this glowering face, however you could. When he grabbed your ankle, you let out a startled sound, and when he followed you up on the bed, you did more than just whimper; you lifted your leg to knee him directly in the stomach. He caught it.
Then he stared again, expression bloodless and wan.
âYouâre scaring me, Bucky.â Your voice trembled as you tried to free your leg from his fistâgrip unusually strong.
The man paused another moment, if only to soak in your words and let his gaze trail over your face. Your exertions did not register. And, for the very first time, you felt as though you were something more like a plaything in your husbandâs eyesânot a full-fledged human being but a system to be gamed. The feeling was so unsettling that you had to turn away.
Or try to, anyway.
Craning your neck just far enough to spy your phone on the nightstand, your first thought was Steve; he would know what to do. But before you could even think to twist and lift your body in that direction, you felt a hand yank you to the bed, flat on your back. You looked up at Bucky and found yourself caged between two arms. He lowered himself to his elbows, shifted his weight to one side, and seemed not to notice your movements at all when you tried to slide away. The man just splayed his hand across your stomach and pressed it firmly. Stay.
You werenât one to shy away from a challengeâor keep hope alive against the odds. You put your hand over his.
âJamesââ
âZhena.â
The abruptness of Buckyâs word stole the rest of yours. You cocked a brow and followed his gaze to your hand.
To the gaps between your fingers, then the touch that fanned across them to settle on one digit in particular.
Bucky thumbed at the diamond and smiled. He smiled.
âZhena,â he repeated.
You blinked.
âIâ you...gave me that, Bucky. You did.â
He hummed in acknowledgment.
Bucky stared at the ring for what couldâve been five seconds or several years, and then he did something unexpected. He shifted his touch to the bodice of your dressâagain, if you could even call it thatâand he began to tug at the satin bow situated between your breasts.
Of course, this nightie being designed for honeymoons and supremely easy access, it didnât take much effort at all for the folds of your dress to come apart. Your breasts spilled out of the fabric without so much as a hint of protest, your torso was quick to become fully exposed, and suddenly, shortly, your hands were fumbling at your chest in an effort to regain some smidgen of modesty. Your husband just shook his head, following your hands.
âMoya zhena,â he said, a touch more emphasis and fervor to the first of the two words.
Now it was you who was shaking your head. Trying to pry his touch away as you slid up the bed. When he followed, you saw the icy expression had been supplanted by intrigue and, though you still felt ill at ease, you couldnât deny you were curious to know what he was thinking. Who was thinking it? Soft, plush lips swiftly replaced his hands, and before you even knew what he was doing, Bucky, or someone, was latching onto your left breast. Using teeth to graze the hardened nub and send a ripple of thick, guilty pleasure coursing through you.
You whimpered. Bucky groaned.
Your fingers slotted through his hair with every intention of pushing him away, but when you tried, he just flicked his tongue and made another delicious sound against you.
You pushed with even more force, and he groaned again.
Not Bucky, not Bucky, not him, you have toâ
âStop!â you cried.
A set of soft, warm baby blues darted up to meet you.
Some flicker of recognition seemed to cross them, too.
âHoney?â
You almost lurched toward the sound. It was Bucky.
Suddenly, your hands were making fists in the collar of his crisp white button-up, and you were trying to yank him up. You murmured his name in disbelief, relief, and gathered him up in your arms to pull him in for a kiss.
The lips that met you were soft for a momentâjust one.
Then the teeth reappeared. Harsh, jarring, biting. You jerked back at the sensation, and when you found his face again, it seemed your husband was lost to you all over. The eyes were attentive stillânowhere near as cold and aloof as they had been beforeâbut they did not radiate the same warmth and admiration that Buckyâs always did. You almost couldnât believe what you were seeing. He was gone, just like that, and there was nothing you could do to stop it from happening.
A broad palm cupped your cheek to bring you in for another kiss, and you werenât sure if you should indulge. It didnât seem you had much choice anyway, because the lips that were seeking yours were hungry. Starved. Searing into your mouth with a force you couldnât refuse.
But something inside you wanted to find Bucky again.
Somewhere inside this stranger was lying dormant a trace of your husband; youâd seen it yourself, if only for a second. It made you curious. Where had he gone? What did he do when forced to retreat into this strange, preprogrammed being, and how could you get him back?
âBucky,â you mumbled, more of a plea than a moan.
You were kissed harder than you had been in a long time. You didnât have to think, or do, or breathe one puff of air that this man didnât account for. His tongue wedged a gaping space in your wet, welcoming mouth for him to fill, and somehow, you didnât feel the urge to protest. A familiarity in the way he kissed almost put you at ease, and when his body lifted slightly, yours lifted with it.
Before long, Bucky was sitting. Kneeling between your legs with an eye to your soft, shaking torso. Youâd barely even come to notice just how hard you were breathing until you felt a palm on your stomach again. There was an oddly calming insinuation in that one simple touch.
And again, he smiled. Brighter than before.
âNashe?â He sounded eager as he said it.
You peered up at him and raised an eyebrow in question. Perhaps you shouldâve felt more exposed; after all, you were sitting half-naked with your husbandâs assassin alter ego stroking your stomach and beaming over you, eyeing you expectantly, and you didnât know what to say. Apart from the short set of words Steve had taught you, you were totally clueless to Russian, and you werenât quite sure you were in a place to ask Bucky to translate.
When it seemed words might never come, the gleaming teeth above you were shrouded in a tighter, close-lipped smile, and Bucky nodded. Appearing to understand. Instead of forcing a response from you, he just let his hand migrate down your belly, fingers tracing the skin, then settle comfortablyâmomentarilyâat the crest of your pubic bone. Then he pressed the heel of his palm into the place residing right below it, and without really meaning to, you moaned. A quiet maelstrom of pleasure circled low in your abdomen, threatening to draw noises from your throat you werenât planning to make with every gentle gyration of Buckyâs lower hand.
You had to purse your lips to contain the sounds.
Again, he nodded.
âItâs okay,â he said, so quiet he almost couldnât be heard.
He let the friction continue for a while like that: just palming you, watching you react to the simplest of motions against your swollen, aching clit and try not to writhe. At length, you squirmed a little bit. Bucky seemed to want to wait for something to happen, and when you bucked your hips, a look in his eye said that was enough.
He lowered himself between your legs. Shoulders bumping your thighs as he spread them apart, chest rising and falling in measured breaths, and lips smiling all the while. You sucked in a breath when his face came to rest just a few inches shy of your bare, aching warmth.
âBucky?â
The man looked up at you and blinked.
âYeah, honey?â
One thumb traced over the seam of your cunt, and your back nearly arched off the bed. There he was, again, gaze safe and secure to yours and hands moving in tandem as they always would. His tongue calmly followed suit. When you fisted his hair, he blinked once more and then directed his attention back to your wet, warm, velvety folds with a pointed look and a purpose.
The sound that escaped you next could hardly be classed as anything less than a scream, but the soft and unperturbed demeanor of the man between your legs showed he hadnât noticed at all. He just sucked diligentlyâdamn near dutifullyâon your clit with a vigor youâd never felt, and when you yanked at his hair, he hummed.
It was like his lips had been trained for perfect suction; that was how well and thoroughly he descended upon your swollen little bud. An airtight kiss and a quick flick of his tongue, paired with his hot and heavy breaths fanning over your cunt, sent your senses into overdrive. Your toes curled inward, your throat let loose a gasp, and without fully realizing it, your walls were clamping down, pulsing and leaking out desire for more of this touch.
Then, without warning, Bucky brought a hand to the throbbing and slick cunt that was presently clenching around nothing, and he fed it two fingers. So forceful and deep he nearly buried his knuckles right along with them. Then he started scissoring those two fingers, sharply.
âOpen, milaya,â he said. Again, it wasnât entirely Bucky.
But you felt a faint remembrance there. You didnât want him to stop. Maybe you were led astray by the gentle laps of his tongue or the prodding of his fingertips, or perhaps there was something stubbornly familiar about the way he was touching you now. You couldnât tell.
All you knew was that both of your hands were holding tight to his head and begging him, wordlessly, for more.
Your moans rang all the way through the bedroom in your new, far-too-big penthouse apartment in Brooklyn, down the hall, reverberating through every inch of the space until all that could be heard were your sounds and his and the delectable little noises of your bodies working together. Bucky hadnât even stirred to pleasure himself.
You wanted that part to change.
With your hip pinned to the mattress and Buckyâs tongue laving over your clit in ruthlessly quick movements, you probably wouldâve liked to cum all over his mouth and fingers, but you wanted to see him pleased even more.
Just when heâd worked a third finger inside you and was driving you close to your peak, you pushed him away.
Bucky parted from your folds with a glistening chin and two furrowed eyebrows, clearly frustrated to have been torn from his mission before you reached completion, but you wouldnât let that look linger for long. You used your leverage in his hairâhowever slight, comparatively, that grip might have beenâto pull him up on the bed.
Bucky surprised you with just how swiftly he moved.
His steel-blue gaze was on yours in a second, equally penetrating and soft.
âWhatâs the matter?â he asked.
âNothingââ
âMy baby okay?â
He surprised you again; this time by how quick his demeanor was to shift the second he sensed something was wrong. Just like Bucky. It had to be him in there.
You nodded, still out of breath from the wonders heâd been working with his tongue. You squeezed his arm and tried to coax him toward you, to help him lower his body some, and when he seemed uncertain, you offered a smile. Itâs okay to touch, you wonât break anything.
Bucky eyed you skeptically, but it was clear he was more wary of himself than of you. He glanced over your body, briefly to his, then slowly, apprehensively, sank down.
âJust fine,â you mumbled, hooking your legs around his back the second his chest was close enough to yours.
You felt an uptick in his heartbeat when your heels dug a little more firmly into the waistband of his pants. While your hands started working their way toward the front of that fabric, wedging clumsily between your bodies, his gaze flitted to yours, and his brows drew even tighter together. He didnât try to stop you, but he certainly seemed confused as to why you wanted to include him so soon. Why you cared to show concern for him at all.
You noticed that then, and in just about every moment preceding, the man was taken aback by kindness.
Whether it was pulling him closer to you, tugging his pants down with a tender touch, running your fingers across the bulge in his boxers, or simply nodding your head and letting him know it was okay to touch you back, Bucky seemed unaccustomed to any care in this area.
When your fingers made it around his cock and started stroking him, gently, he just mightâve come apart.
His chest shuddered with the inhale of a short, strained breath, and his eyelids fluttered, as if meaning to close.
Buckyâs jaw clenched, and he started to shake his head.
âNo, let meââ
âLet me,â you finished for him, wrist flicking back and forth quietly. You paused just to rub a quick touch between your folds, collect some arousal, then return to touching him when he met your eyes again and allowed you to continue. You skimmed his sensitive underside with your palm and let the warmth of him bleed into your fingertips as you worked him up to a comfortable pace.
Bucky rutted into your touch, probably harder than he meant to. Then he planted a hand beside your head and anchored his weight above you so that he was close enough to reach your lipsâbut he didnât kiss you.
His expression hardened again, and he forcibly removed himself from the pulse of your fingers. He frowned.
âYou want me to fuck you, no? Make you cum?â
He sounded irritated again.
Briefly, you recalled your words from earlier and nodded. It was true, youâd said it to him like that, and youâd meant it. You just couldnât make sense of what he wanted now.
It seemed Bucky couldnât wait to indulge you any longer. He fisted his cock in one hand, angled the head just outside of your cunt, and burst in with one thrust.
âThen let me,â he muttered, plunging down to the hilt.
The first go was rough, and the second was no kinder. Buckyâs face screwed up with indifference again, like he wanted to get something out of his brain and just do.
Like there was a task at hand that needed to be finished.
You couldnât deny it felt fine at first. Fucking edifying after all those horrific thoughts had been eating away at your mind and rousing your own hunger for numbness. The drive of Buckyâs thick girth in and out, in and out repeatedly was no doubt capable of rendering you dumb. But being slammed into and taken so roughly was only good for you when you knew he was feeling good too.
This Bucky was back to being entirely flinty and lifelessâpractically devoid of all emotion as he railed into you.
The back of your head was forced into the pillow with the weight of each thrust and Buckyâs thumb pushing into your chinââBetter, milaya? Is this better for you?ââand frankly, you wanted to push him back and ask the same.
But you couldnât. The pace heâd set was suffocating, and the stretch of his cock inside you was unusually tough.
Instead, you sank your nails into his arm and mumbled:
âBucky.â
The manâs thrusts were both stabbing and rhythmic, sending a welt of pleasure blossoming up in your chest. You tried again:
âBucky.â
He blinked.
And slowed.
âBucky,â he mumbled back.
Seemingly mindless and mechanical, he snaked a hand behind your head to lift your face and tilt it toward the sight below: his cock splitting you open before him, parting your insides with an easy, welcome glide through the slick of your folds. You watched as your arousal enveloped him fully. Not a single inch of his rock-hard, throbbing shaft was spared; even his balls were soaked. They felt even heavier slapping your ass with each thrust.
âYou remember?â you asked, hating how small you sounded.
The manâs nostrils flared, but he gave a curt nod. Expression taut and vigilant, as though anticipating something going wrong at any second. Still, he nodded.
âYears,â he answered.
âYears?â
Since heâd done this? Felt good? Become this way?
No, Bucky was activated in Madripoor just weeks ago. He didnât look like he was ready to indulge in any âfeel-goodâ pleasure, and you werenât sure when heâd last been with anyone else before you. Years could mean anything.
You chanced a few soft fingertips up to his cheeks, cupping either side of his clean-shaven face in an effort to anchor you both to one place. The pit of your stomach was reeling with warmth, and friction, and fullness. It took everything in you just to pull him in for a quick, grounding kiss before the feeling gave way to even more.
Buckyâs teeth nicked your bottom lip. He flinched back.
You ignored the sting and repeated his name, murmuring it carefully up to the seal of his mouth as if requesting entry with that word alone.
It seemed to work. Bucky kissed you back with a gentle, albeit guarded, sort of tenderness that made him soften. His thrusts werenât as rough and punishing as they were before. The dull, throbbing ache between your legs transformed into something sweeter, and your body no longer had to brace itself against strokes that, to you, were nearly bruising and, to Bucky, were just necessary.
For once, your husband let out a soft grunt of pleasure.
âThey never let us,â Bucky said as his teeth grit together, âItâs been years.â
âSince what?â
The face above you tempered moreâthis time with a trace of sadness behind it. He continued to rut into you, but now his thrusts were sloppy, and it seemed as though he were battling against his own pleasure with every motion. He lowered one hand between your legs and began to thumb at your clit, gaze torn from yours.
âClose now?â he muttered.
Ignoring the question youâd asked.
âYears since what?â you pressed anyway. The tiny ripples preceding bliss had already begun to stir inside you, maddeningly, with every flick of his thumb, but your curiosity to know the whole truth was stronger still.
Buckyâs hips were moving at a feverish pace now; his free hand made a fist in the sheets beside your head, and his chest heaved with a series of short, ragged breaths that were no doubt meant to mask his moans as well. Notwithstanding the burn you felt between your legsâhe really was much rougher and stronger now, you sawâyou cupped his cheek again to tilt his face toward yours.
What you saw made your stomach drop.
Your heart clenched like a fist within the confines of your ribcage, and there it wasâthat terrible ache you felt each time you saw something awful materialize before you.
Buckyâs eyes were wet with tears. He wouldnât blink.
He tilted his head into your touch, as if for support, but really, the weight of it signaled to you that he just wanted to feel you. Be assured that you were there. His big, broad arms seemed suddenly unable to hold his weight, and then he sank into your frame with a grunt and another stuttered breath. Like he was ready to collapse.
âDonât leave again,â he said quietly.
The pain in your chest elevated, in bloom.
âBucky I didnâtâ wasnâtââ you started to say.
The friction between your bodies was almost too much to bear. You couldnât be sure if you were talking to your husband, soldat, or some strange, inconceivable mixture of the two, but you could tell that this one was desperate.
Pleading.
âI canât lose you again.â
The head of his cock grazed your most sensitive spot inside, and a whine seeped out through your teeth. Buckyâs whole body was blanketing yours, torso flush with your front and hips working an erratic cadence as he got a glimpse of release himself. He groaned out in pleasure and begged you to stay. You promised that you would. Your legs were still wound around his sides, but both of your bodies were slick with a sheen of sweat; it was hard to hang on. Buckyâs hair was wild and pushed back from his face, but his eyes were clear when they finally met yours, and you heard him mumble again, âPlease stay.â
You didnât know what else to say but okay, baby, I will.
You swore you would stay, and in between oaths, your mouth was consumed by a barrage of kissesâBucky got to feast with a full set of teeth again, primal as everâand then your climax hit. Euphoria washed over you whole with a force you werenât expecting to feel, and you couldnât help but cry out and whine as waves of pleasure coursed straight from the innermost depths of your core.
Buckyâs hips collided with yours in two more stuttered thrusts, and when he bottomed out at the last, you felt a heavy spurt of warmth. A groan coiling out of his chest. Muscles growing lax and two sturdy arms coming to bracket your head as your husbandâs whole body weight went folding into yours. You kissed some more, in between frenzied intakes of breaths and steadying moments where you were simply trying to ground your body and get your heart to slow down to a normal rate.
You held each other in silence for a while. Buckyâs head fell next to yours on the pillow when the last of his spend had been emptied, but otherwise, he didnât stir. At some point, his hands slid behind your back, and the second he hugged you to him, you felt secure in that embrace.
You were probably as far as youâd ever been from understanding who the fuck your husband was, but all it seemed you were capable of feeling for now was pity.
Pity for the years heâd lost to captivity; pity for what was little more than mere existence under HYDRAâs thumb; pity for all the things you still didnât know about his past.
You held Bucky tighter, and, flooded with this strange, grating emotion and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness, you wished you could protect him, too.
âJames?â you mumbled into his hair.
Bucky didnât respond.
You squeezed his shoulder. Still nothing.
Against your better judgment, you tried to shift yourself underneath his body. You figured you wouldnât make it far at all, but at least he would be aware that you were trying to get up. Maybe even start to move with you.
He didnât.
It took everything in you just to wedge an elbow back, struggle to prop yourself up against his weight, and when you were about to let out a huff of an exasperated laugh and tell him, Bucky, youâre crushing me, honey, could you please ease up a little, your request was answered before the words could even leave your mouth.
At the sound of two new muffled voices carrying up from the living room and what appeared to be noises from shuffling feet, Bucky rose straight from the bed, off you.
Your gaze trailed his to the door, and you reached for him.
âBaby, itâs justââ
Bucky was back on his feet. Yanking his boxers and pants up his legs and buckling his belt in no time at all.
The movers. Itâs just the movers bringing in furnitureâ
You moved your hand closer to your husband in the hopes of stalling his movements for half a second, but then a set of ruthless blue eyes had you pinned, quick:
âStay.â
Your outstretched arm was taken up in a much stronger, stiffer one, and you were suddenly pulled over to Bucky.
But you knew from the eyes it wasnât him at all.
And you werenât so much being tugged toward him as you were being hauled to the floor. Thrown on your knees beside the bed, next to Bucky. He was about to leave.
Without thinking, you reached for one of the legs of his trousers and sank your nails into the fabric to hold him in place, to tell him again that there was nothing to see out there but the people you knew, no threat outside at all. But Bucky was deaf to your pleas, it seemed. He shrugged you off easily and made a move for his gun, expression blank, stolid, calm, hardened. Decided.
You tried to rise to your feet but were stopped.
âSTAY,â Bucky boomed again, this time an order that he didnât even deign to complete with a look your way.
If he hadâif he even possessed the ability to consider anything but the immediate task at handâhe wouldâve seen his own hand knock you to the floor to keep you from standing. Mightâve caught a glimpse of the instant your head struck the edge of the nightstand before you hit the ground. Couldâve even made out the first traces of blood that came trickling out from above your temple. Wouldâve seen you cower back, viscerally, out of fear.
But holding the side of your head and watching him leave, grim realization twisted at the pit of your stomach, and you knew the man wouldnât have stopped if he had.
If your soldatâs objective was to protect you from any harm lurking outside that door, real or illusory, nothing you were capable of doing now could stop that. At expense to yourself, at expense to him, at expense to whatever lives stood between the Winter Soldier and that unwavering, hardwired goal, he still would not ever stop.
Thinking of new, innocent lives in the balance, now, you scrambled for your phone the next second to call Steve.
You tried him once. Twice. A third time crawling on your knees, then standing, then staggering over to the door and pulling the phone from your ear just to send a string of texts to your friend while the thing continued to ring.
SOS
Need help
Pick up please
Buckyâs stuck and heâs
About to hurt people here
A crash sounded outside. You hurried to the door. Your hand closed around the knob and tried to turn it. The handle turned freely, but something behind it was refusing to let you leave the room. You pressed again.
âBucky!â
Your cry was useless in the face of the barricade outside.
You pushed your shoulder and, behind it, the whole force of your weight against it anyway, trying to get out.
The line went dead. You tried again.
Now with your phone to one ear and the bedroom door taking the brunt of your hits from the other, bleeding side of your body, you scarcely heard much of anything else. The ring started. Stopped. Began again when you pressed a shaky finger to Steveâs contact name, and continued in a cycle for some time while you tried to force whatever was on the other side of the door away.
The second a voice broke through the haze of your frantic, half-crazed state of consciousness, you cried:
âSTEVE!â
âMrs. Barnes?â
You were shocked to hear a woman on the other end. Your pulse was still racing, shoulder aching from the impact of each desperate push youâd been forcing against the door, and then you stopped. Another loud something sounded down the hallway, further away, but you were too startled and unnerved to take any note of it.
You started to ask, âWhereâs Steve?â when the voice continued:
âThis is Mrs. Barnes?â
âYes,â you answered woodenly.
You held the phone as close to your ear as you could, but still, the womanâs words were coming in and out in bursts. You mustâve mistakenly accepted the call when trying to reach Steveâyou couldnât think right now; could barely retract the phone far enough to see a strange number displayed on the screen. You swallowed.
ââfrom Lenox Hill Hospital at Northwell Healthââ
The high-rise medical center on the Upper East Side youâd visited that week. Bucky had wanted you tested for nutritional deficiencies and anemia, of all fucking things.
ââif you had a moment or two to chat and maybeââ
No, you needed Steve, not this outpatient courtesy call.
You wouldâve liked to hang up. Shouldâve hung up. In fact, your fingers were practically itching to hit the button the whole time the nurse was speaking to you, but something in you just couldnât be persuaded to do it. It took several more seconds before your senses began to creep back, and by then, when you were about to drop the call, you heard a phrase that stopped you on a dime.
ââbut the doctor advises prenatal vitaminsââ
âWhat?â you snapped, far more harshly than you meant.
The nurse paused a beat, whether from incredulity at how rude youâd just sounded or to consider something. When she resumed, she sounded a little more guarded.
âYesâŚDr. Watkins did reach out to you about your bloodwork from your last visit, didnât she? I thoughtââ
âNo,â you said, rushed and painfully brusque, again. You tried to rein in your tone some before continuing, âShe didnâtâdidnât reach out about anything. What vitamins?â
Another pause.
âPrenatals.â
You hated that she gave you another second to chew on that word before taking a breath and pressing on.
âIâm terribly, terribly sorry to be the one to spring that on you, Mrs. BarnesâI thought you knewâŚumââ The nurse was sheepish now, almost embarrassed to be speaking, ââyouâre aboutâŚthree weeks along in your pregnancy.â
Three weeks along.
Advised prenatal vitamins.
For the child growing inside of you.
A rivulet of blood trickled into your left eye.
Your whole body was apt to convulse, but it didnât.
You hung up.
â
Taglist: (please lmk if I missed anyone! I can only tag 50 at a time so will continue in a separate post) @vicmc624 @she-could-never @mcira @kentokaze @identity2212 @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx @stinkerbelle007 @opibarnes @wilsons-striped-ties @desigirlxx @pono-pura-vida @geminiflanagansblog @buggy14 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @buckysdoll1520 @armystay89 @minimarvelingmarvel @kunakizen @ghostiebby06 @blackhawkfanatic @dameron-grantspector @sushiseoks @deansapplepie @mrsjoequinn @gyokujyn @lunaroserites @first-edition @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi @excusememrbarnes @daisychainsoflove @mostlymarvelgirl @diannana @shawnberry @yujyujj @urmomsalex @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @athenabarnes @christinabae @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast @wintrsoldrluvr @bethbunnyy @i-heart-smut @aagn360 @dahliawolfe @fantasyfootballchampion @lilyevanstan1325 @kandis-mom @thealyrs
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âł please respondâŚI showed you my cock
      ⤠ghostface x female!readerÂ
ă 18+ ONLY â Minors DNI ă
â taking requests
part 2 âť a pretty mouth
2023 was a different year for everyone. Covid was 2020's big killer, and now ghostface seemed to be claiming 2023 as his year. You were one of his taunting targets. Text messages, phone calls, notes in your locker or mail. He had even been in your room once to leave a message on your mirror.
âI like the red onesâ which was referring to your panties that you were trying on the other day after doing some much needed retail therapy with some friends.Â
Your group was getting smaller and smaller as more students were murdered, kidnapped or not heard from in weeks. Curfew was getting shorter that soon enough school was sure to be cancelled until the police solved whoever was running around killing everyone.Â
Itâs Tuesday night and you just finished showering, you had been blowdrying your hair for the last 20 minutes. The recent news far from your thoughts, the truck load of school work that was due was giving you a migraine. Finally your hair was dried and you were ready to slip into bed and start your assignment. You turned your TV on, immediately putting on your current Netflix show that you were binging.Â
Eyes flicking back and forth from your laptop screen to your TV. You hadnât checked your phone since you started to shower and noticed you had multiple messages from an unknown number. But it wasnât unknown to you. You knew exactly who it was.Â
Unknown Number +1**********
⤠quiet night?Â
⤠parents arenât home.Â
⤠neighbours are out of town.Â
You had only had one actual physical contact with ghostface which was two weeks ago. He chased you around your house until your neighbours came barging in and he ran away. Ever since you had your parents change the locks and debate whether or not to send you across the country to live with your aunt and uncle until it was all over. You pleaded that they didnât and instead they paid for a self defence class for you.Â
Your phone buzzed again, drawing your attention away from the TV.Â
Unknown Number +***********
⤠i liked the little show you put on for me the other day.Â
⤠wish i had been there to ruin those little red pantiesÂ
You werenât sure what to write back, you sat there debating if you should even write anything back and entertain this creep.Â
Just as you put your phone down, the screen lit up and the room echoed from your ringtone.Â
Unknown CallerÂ
You werenât sure if you should pick up, but something inside you made you do it.Â
âHello?â You hesitantly asked as you held the device up to your ear. Waiting to hear that deep voice that you couldnât recognise.Â
âHello y/n. Enjoying your show?â Your eyes met your TV screen to see your show playing still on low volume. You turned the TV off, quickly standing to your feet to look out your window. It was barely lit outside from the streetlight and nothing seemed to stick out like a sore thumb.Â
âWho is this? Why are you tormenting me?â You had asked the question too many times that it was just routine, youâd hope that one time he would budge and just tell you.Â
âThe question isnât who I am. the question is where I am.â You heart began to race, eyes searching endlessly out your window, he had to be close by. You suddenly felt the booty shorts and crop top that you had slid into wasnât the best attire to be wearing at home alone whilst being stalked by a psycho.Â
âLook asshole, you wanna play games. I can play.â You werenât sure what you exact plan was, but it was the first thing to pop into your head. Were you terrified of ghostface? Yes. But did it also arouse you how much he called you, texted you, the fact he had probably seen you naked countless times, even possibly pleasured himself to the sight of you.Â
âOh yeah? In the mood for monopoly?â He chuckled darkly on the other end, you could only hope he was still watching you from where he was. With your free hand you danced your fingers down your torso, dipping into the waistband of your shorts and panties and itching your way to your centre that was throbbing. You could hear a deep growl on the other end.Â
You chuckled into the phone, knowing he was definitely watching you now. You breathed a soft moan as your fingertip circles your juicy clit, using your arousal as lube to slick your finger around the bundle of nerves. Your moans grew louder and your mouth fell agape as you began walking backwards onto your bed, allowing yourself to fall back into the plush mattress and send yourself into a bliss.Â
You had forgotten about ghostface, your phone falling from your ear to beside your head.Â
âHey!â Your eyes popped open as you remembered he was still on the other end. You quickly grabbed it, slowing your circles to keep yourself on edge.Â
âI want to hear your pretty cries when you cum, I want you to cum to me and only me. You got that princess?â His words were sharp and threatening, just like the blade he used to murder your friends. God you were getting turned on and touching yourself to a psycho killer. The unexpected happened next. A snapchat notification came through.Â
Gfce23 added you on Snapchat!Â
It was him. It had to be. You accepted, still working yourself and slipping a finger inside your dripping cunt to get more arousal on your clit.Â
Immediately a video came through, along with a few photos. You bit your lip as you thought about what could possibly be on the other end. You had to take the chance though, you were too far down the rabbit hole.Â
âOpen them, I want you to see what you fucking do to me.â His voice was hoarse and breathless, you could tell he was jerking himself on the other end or something. You clicked on the purple square. Your eyes met a hard cock, veiny and thick. The tip an enraged red with a slight purple tinge. A single drop of precum oozing out the slit and his black leather glove wrapped around his cock.Â
The video began playing and his hand jerked his cock slowly, throaty moans echoing as the video continued to play and that drop of precum dripped down his pinkish shaft. A small bush of pubic hair that led to a faint snail trail and a set of what you could only guess were abs.Â
His hand got faster and his moans got faster as he pumped himself hard in his hand, but before you could view more you heard your parents car pulling into the driveway with their faint music blaring.Â
Ghostface was in the back of your mind as you quickly closed your phone and got settled into bed. Ghostface didnât call you back, didnât text you and didnât send anything else to you that night. But that doesât mean he let you off easy.Â
It had only been a few days since you last heard from ghostface, but when you did you were surprised to see the message he had sent through was not his usual taunting, threatening approach.Â
Unkown Number +**********
⤠i want to see that pretty pussy spread out tonightÂ
⤠leave your window unlocked
⤠i know your parents wont be home
⤠hope you like it rough princess
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GOJO SATORU: GUILTY CONSCIENCE
⊠⧠Ë. serial killer!au: ever since that first night, you can't get him off your mindâand even though you handed him over to law enforcement, it looks like he still wants you too. PART 1 | NSFW
contents: fem!reader. porn with plot, dubcon, semi-public sex (in a bathroom), oral (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), pet names (detective, princess, smart girl, pretty girl, etc.), gojo cums in your mouth. non-sexual threatening. non-sexual usage of knives/guns. more plot than porn. this is not good for you btw !!! 4K words.
author's note: pls appreciate your smut writers bc this shit is hard !!!! the sk!series might be over after this one bc i'm not feeling it anymore, but nothing's set in stone yet. posting this for the ppl who wanted a part two, but personally i would've just left it as a standalone.. oh well, i didn't want 4K words to go to waste, so enjoy đ¤
âsatoru gojo, what are we going to do with you?â your subordinate asks, resting his hands on the table dividing the dim interrogation room in two. you and your coworker sit on one side, facing the serial killer on the other sideâwho also happens to be the man you fucked in an alley two weeks ago.
ever since that first encounter, you havenât been able to get his face out of your mind. at work, his ice blue eyes haunted your every move. at home, he was all you could picture as your mind strayed back to your time beneath him. and now, as you and your boss interrogate him, all you can think about is how good satoruâs hands felt roaming over your skin when you cornered himâor, more accurately, when he cornered you.
âi dunno,â satoru replies, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands behind his head. he grins shamelessly, looking you up and down with interest. âso, pretty girl, howâve you been since we last met?â
you slip your hands into your pockets to stop yourself from doing something youâll regret and ignore the curious look your coworker gives you. âthis meeting isnât about me. this is about the people you killed and the punishment youâre about to get,â you answer through gritted teeth.
satoru laughs, eyes locking with yours and seeing right through you. âthatâs funny. so, whoâs this shrimpy guy next to you? your boyfriend?â he jeers, grinning unnervingly at your coworker. you shoot your subordinate an apologetic look, which he responds to with a nod.
âiâm her boss, actually,â he clarifies, running a hand through his blonde hair and narrowing his eyes. âkento nanami. and iâve been referred to as a lot of things, but shrimpy is a first.â satoru makes a face and laughs, as if heâs amused by the whole scene.Â
âreally? iâm surprised,â satoru replies easily. âi mean, whatever. iâve seen better looking officers⌠like the one next to you.â he looks back at you, a careless smile still dancing on his lips. kento frowns and looks back and forth from you to satoru, and you force yourself to maintain a poker face in order to detract any suspicion.
âdo you two know each other?â kento asks, crossing his arms. satoru starts laughing again, to which you roll your eyes. even if satoru were to tell kento what you hadnâtâthat you two had fucked when you were supposed to be arresting himâyou doubted that kento would believe him. after all, whatâs the word of an obnoxious criminal compared to yours?
you shake your head and ignore satoru. âiâm the one whoâs been leading the investigation on him for the past couple months,â you answer. kento meets your eyes and cocks an eyebrow, so you continue, âwe met two weeks ago. i cornered him, but he escapedââ
âshe let me,â satoru interjects, clearly enjoying the death glare you shoot at him a second later.
âyou held a gun to my forehead,â you remind him pointedly, tapping the spot on your head where you vividly remember the cold metal resting against.Â
âyeah, but i kissed it aftââ
âweâre getting off-topic,â kento interrupts, shooting you a warning glance. âdetective, iâll handle the interrogation from here.â
you hesitate, not liking how smug satoruâs expression isâbut, seeing as you donât have a choice, you dip your head in assent and exit the room.Â
now that satoruâs been caught and is now in the grasp of the law, you donât really have anything to do for the rest of the day. he was your case, and now, it looks like itâs closed, especially if your boss is the one interrogating him.
kento nanami has a reputation among law enforcementâheâs known as the stoic, serious man with a perfect record. there hasnât been a single criminal heâs interrogated that hasnât cracked, although the knot in your stomach tells you that this might be the first.
a sharp knock sounds on your office door, summoning you back from your train of thought. âitâs open,â you call, holding a piping hot coffee with both hands. kento opens the door and steps inside, eyebrows unusually tensed. his hands are balled into fists, too, in stark contrast to his characteristically calm demeanor.Â
âsomething wrong?â you ask tentatively, studying your bossâs troubled eyes.
kento takes a seat in the leather chair in the corner of your office and rests his elbow on the armrest, rubbing his temples. âdetective, be honest with me. what happened the night you were supposed to arrest satoru gojo?â
for the first time since satoru pinned you to the wall of a darkened alley, your heart drops. kentoâs knowing eyes watch your every move, from the subtle twitch in your eye to the way your fingers tense around the cup of coffee. âwhat do you mean?â you ask carefully, surprised at how steady your own voice is.
âdetective, donât play games with me,â kento asserts calmly, hand casually drifting towards the side of his waist. you know him well enough to know what heâs reaching forâthe same instrument that another man pressed against your forehead just two weeks ago.
despite your mind being clouded with fear and uncertainty, you manage to rationalize your way through the situation. what proof could your boss possibly have besides the word of a criminal?Â
itâs your word against hisâand you both know whose word kentoâll believe.
âthat night, he threatened to kill me,â you start, repeating the story you told the authorities when they came ten minutes too late to catch satoru. âand he mustâve drugged me or knocked me unconscious because next thing i knew, he was gone.â your confidence grows with every word, and you start nodding as if you believe your own lies.
kentoâs eyes narrow, and you force yourself to hold your poker face as he scrutinizes you and your words. three long, painful seconds of silence pass before his hand moves away from the holster strapped to his waist, and you internally sigh in relief. he stands without a word and makes to exit the room, but before he does, you risk it all. âwhy do you ask, sir?â
your boss pauses and turns back to you, eyebrows lifting in mild interest. he doesnât answer immediately, and you tentatively ask, â...what did he tell you?â
kento exhales a soft huff of air, a look of dread in his brown eyes. âdetective, for your own peace of mind, i assure you that you donât want to know.â
well, fuck.
âi trust your judgement, then,â you reply, feeling your poker face start to slip away. you lift your now-cold cup of coffee to your lips and take a sip, attempting to hide the grimace that threatens to make an appearance. âhave a good night, boss.â
âyou too, detective. stay safe.â
âiâll do my best.â
kento nods and heads out, and through your open window you watch him tell another one of your coworkers about how heâs planning on heading out early to make bread for his family, a gentle smile on his lips. eventually, he waves bye and exits the building.
you finish off your coffee and stand up, fishing out your key card from your pocket. you figure that you should head to the bathroom before you go home, just in case. a couple of your coworkers congratulate you when you come out of your office, praising you on the capture of your suspect. you take their compliments with a smile, ultimately wishing them a good night and escaping to the bathroom.
the door clicks shut behind you, and the comfortable quiet eases you at once. but before you can even appreciate the silence of the confined room, a sultry, familiar voice interrupts your thoughts. âaw, you werenât gonna say bye before you left?â
you turn and your mouth drops openâstanding before you, in the flesh, is the criminal you swore you last saw handcuffed to a chair.
âwhat the fuââ
satoru reaches out and grabs your wrist before you can scurry away or grab your phone. he pulls you into his chest, and you can feel his heartbeat against your backâat least, thatâs what you notice before he clamps his hand over your mouth to stifle your yells.
âshut it,â satoru hisses, breath hot against the side of your face. he turns you towards the mirror of the bathroom so you can see how heâs holding youâone hand over your mouth, and one wrapped around your waist. âdonât try anything clever, sweetheart. i wouldnât wanna have to hurt that pretty face of yours.â
you turn your head and glare at him furiously, cussing like a sailor against his hand. you eventually try to bite it, but your meager attack is essentially useless against his iron grip. satoru raises his eyebrows sternly and hushes you again, ice-blue eyes boring into your own.Â
âiâll answer your questions, honey, but be careful,â he pauses and nods at his pocket, where the handle of what appears to be a knifeâhow the fuck did he get his hands on a knife?âpokes out of the cloth. âokay, iâm gonna take my hand off your mouth now,â he murmurs, purposefully lowering his voice.
true to his word, satoru removes his hand from your mouth. you take a long breath and hesitateâagain, thereâs not much you can do in this situation but play along. if heâs telling the truth, you can ask questions and he can answer them, so you try your hand at getting some information and biding time. someone would have to walk in the bathroom eventually, right?
âby the way,â satoru starts, a grin curving the corners of his lips upward. ânobodyâs gonna come save you, princess. the doorâs locked from the inside.â he also removes his hand from your waist, letting you take a step back.
âhow?â you ask suspiciously, unsure if heâs telling the truth or not.
satoru laughsâhis hair falls into his eyes, and immediately shakes it away with a huff of breath. âiâm good with my hands. but you already know that, donât ya?â
you back away towards the other side of the bathroom, where sinks line the quartz countertop. âwhy arenât you still in the interrogation room?â
âyou think youâre the only girl i can convince to let me go?â satoru tuts, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. he reaches into his pocketânot the one with the knifeâand extracts a badge of some sort. satoru flicks it at you, and you catch it in midair. to your surprise, itâs the badge of one of your superiors who was supposed to be keeping an eye on satoru. the coy smile on satoruâs face confirms what youâre thinking, and his nod seals it the next second.Â
âokay,â you say carefully, drawing out the word for a couple seconds. âhow long have you been waiting here?â
âlong enough,â satoru answers vaguely, not bothering to elaborate.
âthanks a lot,â you deadpan.
ânice to see that youâre still feistyââ
âand what the hell did you tell my boss?â you interrupt, suddenly remembering the dread-filled way kento had looked at you. the way your voice rises is unexpected enough to force satoru to involuntarily take a step back. itâs not much, but the step you take forward a second later to assert your position brings you a small feeling of satisfaction. after all, heâs only humanâand all humans get surprised by loud noises.
satoru holds up his hands in mock surrender and eyes you skeptically. âyouâre really worried about your bossâs approval, arenât you?â he asks dryly, white hair falling into his eyes again. âheh, desperate much?â
you roll your eyes and curl your hands into fistsâunfortunately, your action only seems to amuse satoru, but you ignore the little âawâ he coos and continue glaring at him. âanswer the fucking question, satoru.â
âlanguage,â he snorts. a second later, satoru cocks his head and thinks for a moment, and when his eyes land on you again he asks, âso, youâre still callinâ me satoru? cute.â
your face involuntarily heats up, and even though youâre sure satoru can tell, you pretend not to noticeâagain. âanswer the question or iâll scream.â
âyou wouldnât dare.â
âwouldnât i?â
you donât get the chance to fufill your threat, because satoru sees that youâre serious a second too earlyâeverythingâs a blur as he grabs your wrists and bunches them into one hand, firmly securing your hands behind your back. his chest rests on top of your back as he folds you over the bathroom counter, and his reflection leers at you from the mirror. ânice try, baby. but remember, youâre dealinâ with a world-class serial killer.â
âworld-class? how humble of you,â you snap irritably, craning your neck to glare at satoru out of the corner of your eye. âyou asshole, get off me or iâllââ
satoru interrupts you by prodding at your lips with two of his fingers, forcing your mouth open and slipping them inside. you instantly attempt to bite him, but his fingers are so long that they trigger your gag reflex instead. âmissed me, detective?â satoru coos, curling his fingers downwards and pressing on your tongue. a little whine involuntarily slips out of your lips, and satoru takes that as a yes. âyeah, i can tell,â he continues, studying your heated face in the reflection of the mirror. âi bet you couldnât stop thinkinâ about me since that night, yeah?â
he doesnât bother waiting for a response before he extracts his fingers and leaves you gasping for breath. you watch as satoru lifts his now-soaked fingers to his lips and runs his tongue over them, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. itâs disgusting, filthy even, but that doesnât stop your thighs from clenching together in a futile attempt to hide your arousal from him.
âyâknow, i think youâre wearing too many clothes,â satoru sighs, resting his chin on top of your head and smiling coyly. âwanna fix that for me?â
âdo i have a choice?â
âno.â satoru pushes himself off of you and gives you enough space to start removing your clothes without his smothering presence. the idea of running away or screaming crosses your mind, but the serial killerâs smile makes you certain that youâd regret itâand thatâs even disregarding the knife thatâs still shining at you from his pocket.Â
seeing as you donât really have any other option, you slowly shrug off your coat and let it slide down your body and onto the floor. your collared shirt comes off next, followed by your pants, until thereâs hardly anything shielding you from satoruâs hungry eyes. the feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach is hard to describeâitâs something like a mix between longing and fear, two emotions you hadnât felt since that night.
and maybe, even though every instinct you have insists that this is the last thing you should be finding pleasure in, you want to feel that way again.
âyou really coulda been anything in the world with that body,â satoru sighs, leaning back against a wall and taking his sweet time looking you up and down. his eyes narrow slyly as he watches you shrink away from him instinctually, and the next thing you know, heâs on you again, hands tracing over your skin and lips unbearably close to yours. âalthough, i guess itâs a good thing youâre a detective, âcause i wouldnât have met you if you werenât.â
you shouldnât be agreeing with him, and as he lifts you up onto the counter, you also know that you shouldnât be letting him do this. it goes against everything you swore to protect when you joined law enforcement, and if this ever got outâno, when it got out, youâd be the pariah of the city.
but even after thinking it through, one, two, maybe even three times, you canât find it in your heart to care about much else than the hands pushing apart your thighs and slipping inside your shamelessly wet cunt.
âheh, how long has it been since we last did this?â satoru coos, eyes glazing over with a mixture of lust and adoration. his face is redder than youâve ever seen itâthe blush spreads all the way up to the tips of his ears, and itâs even more prominent underneath the overhead lights as he eyes you. âtwo weeks, right? feels like itâs been twenty.â
âdo you ever shut up?â you mutter sourly, averting your eyes from satoruâs. he responds by curling up the two fingers he has inside your cunt, a mean little smile on his lips.Â
âcareful with that mouth of yours,â satoru warns, pushing his fingers in farther until heâs practically knuckle-deep inside of you. his thumb rests firmly against your clit, toying with the sensitive skin. âitâll get you in trouble one day, pretty girlâŚâ satoru withdraws his fingers in one swift motion with a soft, wet pop. he lifts his hand to his lips and licks off your slick, swiping his tongue over his fingers a couple times with a smile. âyâknow what? iâll let you go if you can do one thing for me, âkay?â
he waits for your response, raising an eyebrow patiently for you to catch your breath. it almost feels like deja vu, or some cheesy movie from the 90âs: the pretty little detective getting fucked by the big bad serial killer, and you know how these films always endedânot pretty.
âwhat?â you ask halfheartedly, expecting him to ask you to do something like erase him from the police records or sabotage the investigation. satoru cups your face with both hands, leaning in close enough for his lips to brush against yours, and his smile is almost mocking when he replies.
âsuck my dick.â
part of you wants to ask âthatâs it?â, but the glimmer in satoruâs knowing eyes makes you certain that he wonât make this easy for you.Â
âwhat if i say no?â you ask tentatively. itâs a stupid questionânow youâre just playing russian roulette with his rationality, and either way, you already know your decision.
the past two weeks have been torture. every waking moment of yours was spent thinking about the man you fucked, and every time you thought of his carefree smile and feather-light touch, you just felt guilty for wanting more. after all, when you first became a detective, you swore to prioritize your job and not make any personal relationships with your subjects. and yet, here you were, almost too eager to get on your knees for the serial killer who you swore to incapacitate.Â
satoru shrugs nonchalantly in response to your question and not-so-subtly shoots a furtive glance at his pocket, where the handle of his knife still pokes out. âyouâre a smart girl. i think you can guess, yeah?â
and thatâs how you ended up with your lips wrapped around satoruâs dick for the seventh time (if you include every fantasy youâve had about giving him head). itâs almost funny how he switches up the second you run your tongue over his blushing pink tipâhis face goes red, all the way up to his ears, and the little breathy moans that slip out of his lips would be adorable in any other context but this.
âf-fuck, wasnât expecting you to be this good,â he manages to mutter through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering open and shut. âwhereâd you learn to suck dick like this, hehââ
itâs been.. a while since satoru first helped you get on your knees in front of him and unzipped his pants, and even though it couldâve just been a couple minutes, it feels like this is all youâve ever known. satoruâs ice blue eyes have barely moved from you since you started, and it looks like itâll stay like that until you finishâor, more accurately, until he finishes.
satoruâs foot bounces on the floor as you lick a long stripe from the tip of his dick to the top of it, and the way his nails dig into his palm makes you absolutely certain that heâs close to cumming down your throat. âshit, donâtâ donât stop,â he chokes out, threading his fingers through your hair and involuntarily pushing down your head. âfuckââ
when satoru finally cums, itâs pitifully obviousâactually, itâs almost embarrassing. last time, you were the one in shambles when he was done with you, but now, it looks like itâs the other way around. his eyes flicker as they almost roll back from the sheer pleasure of you sucking him dry, and when satoruâs cum shoots out of his painfully hard dick, itâs a hot mess that leaks out of your mouth and down your chin.Â
ây-yeah, good girl,â he murmurs shakily, reaching down and swiping his thumb over your cum-soaked, swollen lips. you lick off the thick, viscous liquid from his fingers instinctually, a dazed little smile on your face as you watch satoru tilt his head back towards the ceiling.
itâs interesting, seeing the cityâs infamous serial killer like this. heâs leaning back against the white tile of the bathroom walls, chest heaving from his orgasm, and in that moment, you realize that his attention is on everything else but you.Â
so, naturally, you stab him in the back.
not literallyâthatâd be a pain for your officeâs custodian to clean up, but you extract the knife from satoruâs discarded pants and, before he can register the sharp object in your shaky hand, you press it to his blush-red throat.Â
satoruâs hazy eyes widen in disbelief as he realizes whatâs going on before they narrow in what looks almost like a mix between anger and shock. itâs stupid, foolish, and almost naive, but somewhere in your chest, it feels like a dagger pokes at your softened heart when you categorize the look in his eyes as betrayal. which is, by all accounts, entirely unreasonableâdid he seriously think you wouldnât take advantage of him like this?
at the end of the day, no matter how good the dick was, you werenât about to sacrifice your well-paying job for a man on the run from the law.
âwhat the fuck?â satoru snaps, hand twitching in a movement to throw you off of him, but thankfully, the sudden shift in atmosphere heightened your instincts to a point where nothing could possibly catch you off-guard. you dig in the knife a millimeter deeper into his throat, avoiding eye contact with the man you just made cum with your mouth. âare youââ
âyeah, i am,â you assert, biding time. as much as youâd like to pretend that youâre completely in control of the situation, thereâs only so long that you can hold up this stalemate. satoruâs stronger than you physically, and the second he figures out a way to handle the knife pressed to his neck, heâd get his revenge.
satoru comes to this conclusion about as fast as you did, and his lips curve upwards in a jeering smile. the look in his eyes is borderline insane when he snarls, ânobodyâs gonna rescue you from me, princess. just you waitââ
and, with perfect comedic timing, the bathroom door opens, and one of your female co-workers steps in. youâve never talked to her much, but thankfully, her instincts are even faster than yours.
what happens next goes by in a haze. your co-worker holds a gun to the side satoruâs head, and calls for backup. then, a handful of sleepy-eyed police officers haul away a cursing and fighting satoru to who-knows-where.
but just before heâs out of sight, satoru shoots you an unsettlingly calm look. and as if that wasnât concerning enough, the last words he mouths to you are âthis isnât over.â
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My Little Muse ~ HHJ [M]
WORD COUNT: 4.9K (you broke my 2k streak hehe thank you)
GENRE: mafia!AU, continution of THIS piece, hyunjin simping for reader,building of relationship, fast paced, insta love, SMUT MINORS DNI (You WILL be blocked) cunnilingus (female recieving) protected sex
PAIRING: Hyunjin x Fem!Reader
â¤Copyright: Š DreamEscapesWriting - January 2024
â¤MASTERLIST
  "Do you even know who that was?" The lady behind the counter of your pain shop questioned, her eyes scanning over your body as she looked at your appearance trying to see what it was that Hyunjin liked about you so much. You weren't even that special - to her at least. It was obvious by her tone of voice that she was annoyed by you because of a random man asking you out on a date, but it wasn't as though you asked him to pay you any attention.Â
"N-No." You stuttered a little, your eyes never straying from the man as he straightened out the black suit he was wearing and climbed into the back of a black SUV. Part of you was intrigued by him, he seemed so charming and confident when he'd told you to go on a date with him.
"That's Hwang Hyunjin." She stated as if it was meant to mean something to you, but you were new to the City and you had no idea who anybody was. You weren't much of a gossip so you didn't read town magazines, you mostly kept to yourself spending time at work or painting at home.
"Is he a celebrity?" You frowned, turning to look at the lady who was biting back a smirk. You could tell she wanted to say but she didn't, she just smiled and shrugged her shoulders at you.
"Good luck, he's relentless when he sees something he wants." Before you could ask what she meant she was going toward the back of the store while you looked around nervously wondering if everyone working inside of the store knew of the man.
It had been weeks of non-stop gifts coming to your apartment and your workplace and it was safe to say it was getting a little out of hand. It had started small at first, the occasional box of chocolates - which you never ate in case they'd been tampered with - then there were some notes that were left at your desk - all cute and sweet notes from HHJ but then when he realised you weren't responding the gifts got bigger.Â
One morning you'd walked into work to find a huge bouquet of your favourite flowers on your desk with a note attached, "I asked your boss what kind you liked, go out with me tonight? HHJ" Rumours were spreading quickly around the office that you were dating him which wasn't true. He'd given you his number a few weeks ago - along with one of the notes - and you'd saved it into your phone but never called him. You weren't sure you were comfortable going out with someone as the likes of him.
You weren't stupid, the moment you'd left the paint shop and headed home - empty-handed by the way, you weren't going to take such expensive gifts from a stranger - you'd researched him and found out everything there was to know about Hyunjin.
A ruthless leader, the tabloids painted him as a "kind-hearted" man who helped a lot of businesses grow and kept them protected from others who threatened to cause harm to the business or who stole. But if you dove deep enough there were articles that painted a not-so-pretty picture of him, a killer who took what he wanted whenever he wanted it and you didn't know which side to see.
Everyone you'd asked at work about Hyunjin had said nothing but kind things, everyone seemed to like him but you were never sure because of his title. "Mafia leader" didn't really scream "green flag" mostly, red flags all over with a hint of green if you squinted really hard enough.
"Yn, you've worked enough tonight. Head home," Your boss grumbled as he looked at you and over at the clock on the wall. It was almost nine pm and you'd already been there since 7 am, it was safe to say you were overworking yourself but you didn't care. You'd been hoping to wait out the black SUV you could see from your office window but it was still there and had been since 5 pm.Â
"But-"
"He's still going to wait there no matter how long you hold out," Brady told you, shaking his head.
"Give him what he wants. If he gets his date maybe he'll leave you alone." You sighed a little as you packed up your laptop and slid it into your bag, maybe Brady was right but you weren't sure you liked your boss telling you to go on a date with someone.
"I'll think about it," You mumbled, making your way toward the stairwell, counting down the steps until you'd be outside and in front of the black SUV that was waiting for you.
As soon as you stepped onto the pavement Hyunjin - along with two huge men - were waiting for you,Â
"You won't give up, will you?" You quizzed, wrapping a scarf around your neck as you tried to beat the cold air that was whipping around.
"Not while I'm alive," Hyunjin said with a cocky smile plastered across his cheek. He was standing there in a simple suit and yet it was like the freezing temperature didn't bother him one bit. You sighed a little looking at him and then at the two men who appeared to look cold.Â
"Fine. ONE date. That's it!" You told yourself that you were agreeing to this so that the two men beside Hyunjin could finally go and get warm again.
"Okay, one date." He nodded stepping to the side and offering you to get into the car. It was either a car ride home with him or the subway so you began to walk toward the car,
"You're not going to fight for more than one?" Not that you were complaining but you had expected a little fight from him after all the effort he'd done to get you to accept. As you stepped into the car Hyunjin pulled you back so that your back was against his chest and he whispered in your ear,
"Trust me, I know you'll be begging for more." His breath caught against your skin and that's what you blamed the butterflies that were fluttering inside of your stomach on. There was no way you were attracted to him, not when he was a walking red flag, so you brushed the feeling away and sat in the back of the car.
"I'll pick you up on Saturday. Wear something fancy," Hyunjin told you with a smile, lifting your hand to his lips and kissing your skin softly. He wasn't going to drive home with you tonight, he trusted his driver to take good care of you which was why he'd been sending him every morning before work as well as after. He couldn't stand the thought of you riding the subway every day, not when there were dangerous people about.
Not to mention, now that you'd been associated with him you were a walking target already and he wasn't going to let anything happen to you.
"I don't have anything fancy." You contended but he smirked at you, he'd already taken care of something he'd wanted you to wear for him.
"I'm sure you'll find something." With that he shut the door and tapped the side of it, watching as the car drove off into the night.
Hyunjin hadn't lied when he told you that you'd find something, when you'd walked into your apartment the other night there had been a box waiting for you with your name on it.
Inside was one of the most stunning dresses you'd ever laid your eyes on and you dreaded to think how much money it would have cost him. But there were more pressing questions you had. How did he get into your apartment? and How did he know your dress size? All things you were planning on asking him as you waited for him inside the lobby of your apartment building. It was far too cold to be waiting outside in your gown - which was what it was, a ball gown. Something you'd never thought you'd wear.
A long silky green ball gown that slit up your left leg and stopped just below the top of your thigh, revealing your leg in a sexy - yet classy way. You had no idea what Hyunjin had in store for you but you were a little worried,
"Miss Yln, Mr Hwang is here," You nodded at your doorman - Ted - said as you slowly got up from the chair and let out a deep breath. You were nervous about all of this, but you were more nervous about meeting up with Hyunjin, what if he didn't like the dress on you? What if he changed his mind and left without saying anything?
You had no time to question anymore as a hand slowly took yours and a kiss was placed upon your skin, you hadn't even noticed you were outside until you felt him touch you.
"You look beautiful, as always," He whispered to you, looking at you and taking in your appearance. His personal shopper had been right the dress was perfect for you, he had half the mind to stay in all night instead of taking you out with him.
"T-Thanks, you look good too." "Good" was an understatement, you don't think you'd ever seen a man look so hot in your entire life. He was once again in a suit but this one was different, he was in a tailored suit with a bow tie and looked just as fancy as you did tonight.
"We should get going, don't want to be late." He nodded over to the limo and your eyes bulged out of your head,Â
"Where are we going?" You quizzed as he took your hand in his and helped you into the back of the black Limo. It was dark inside except for some LED lights that lined the underside of the seats and some fake stars on the ceiling.
"An event I was invited to," Hyunjin answered, not giving you the answers you clearly wanted from him but he was enjoying getting to toy with you a little.
You'd come into his life so unexpectedly and he loved it, he found himself thinking about you when he knew he should have been working or when he was painting. Sitting in his art studio at home were countless paintings of you, all in different scenarios but you'd become his muse.
"What event?" He chuckled a little as he shut the door to the limo, glancing at you with a smirk on his face. He already loved that you asked him so many questions, you had a backbone and it was nice to have someone around him like that. Everyone else was so quick to bend to him and he hated how dull and boring that was. With you, he had to fight for what he wanted and you fought back just as hard.
"Do you always ask this many questions?" He arched a brow, holding out a glass of champagne for you to take and you studied it for a second wondering if you could take it or not.
"Yes, and you won't get out of them by avoiding them. I have many, starting with how you knew my dress size and how you got into my apartment?" You took the glass from him, watching as he took a drink from his own and you downed the glass that you were holding.Â
"I trust you did research on me?" He wasn't stupid, he knew someone would have told you his full name and you would have googled him sooner or later. Besides, he wanted you to know some things before going forward with a date with him,
"Well...Y-Yeah but that doesn't answer-"
"I'm a very powerful man, Miss Yln, I can get into any place I want and once I was in your place I found your dress size." He said it as if it was the most casual thing in the world for someone to do and you didn't know if it scared you or excited you.
"Do I need to sweep for hidden cameras?" Something you hadn't thought of before, what if he had it set up so he could see you changing?
"Spying isn't my style."
"No, but stalking seems to be." You grumbled at him, making him laugh with you, but you weren't joking.Â
"I wouldn't call it stalking. I was giving you gifts."
"And sending a car all of the time, finding out where I lived." You reminded him and he rolled his eyes playfully at you. It wasn't as though he'd paid for someone to give him your address, it was public information if you looked hard enough.
"Where you live is employer information, wasn't my fault you worked for me." Hyunjin shrugged you but frowned at him, you didn't work for him as far as you knew.
"I work for Brady."
"Who works for me. It's a big world out there, my little muse." The nickname sent a tingle up and down your spine and you hated yourself for it. You were supposed to be turned off by him but the more time you spent around him the more drawn to him you were.
"Muse?" You raised your eyebrow and he smirked at you a little,
"A source of inspiration."
"No, I know what a muse is, why are you calling me it?"
"It's a cute nickname," He shrugged not letting you know just yet that you were the one thing keeping his art alive and he would do anything to make sure he didn't lose his inspiration now he'd found it.Â
"This place is huge." You whispered to Hyunjin as you walked around the huge art gallery he'd bought you along to. All of the walls were painted a brilliant white colour so that the canvases and other art pieces stood out among the masses.
"It's lovely to see you Mr Hwang, and with a date? It's already rare to see you out but even more rare with someone with you." You stared at the journalist who seemed to be buzzing with excitement as Hyunjin dropped his arm to be around your waist, and your stomach flipped.
Those damn butterflies inside of you needed to stop, you wanted to crush each and every one of them for feeling for Hyunjin,
"I trust you'll keep everything off the books that you see here tonight. I wouldn't want Yn scared off."
"Of course, it's lovely to meet you Yn." The man bowed to you before leaving you both alone and you were a little speechless.
"Does everyone bend to your every command?"
"Everyone except you." He stated as he took two glasses from a passing waiter, handing one of them to you before drinking all of the contents from his own. He was nervous and he hadn't been this nervous for something in his whole life, at least not for a long time but being here, with you, made him nervous.Â
"You hate that, don't you?" You giggled drinking slowly from the glass and watching your date as he turned to look at you and smiled,
"No, I actually kind of love it."
"Why?" You didn't understand how a man who could get everything he could ever want by the snap of his fingers would ever want you. He could have anybody else and yet he wanted you,
"You don't make life boring. You're excited," He told you while looking into your eyes,
"So, you like me fighting you back?"
"My little muse, I love everything you do." Before you had time to process anything else he began to walk with you toward some paintings that were hanging up.
"Tonight's function is about raising money for schools." You frowned as he told you this.
"Art schools, if we raise enough money we can add more scholarship programmes for kids who can't afford to come to schools we provide." If your heart wasn't already singing for him before it was practically making an album devoted to him by now. If you were listening to him right he was building art schools for people,
"We?" You stuttered a little, there was no way it was true. Everything you'd been reading about him and it had never once mentioned this.
"Hmm, me and a board of chairmen. My name isn't on anything, I don't want people to know about it and use it against me. Or destroy it," He stared down at you, your eyes hadn't moved from his face the whole time it was like you were seeing him in a whole new light right now,
"What made you decide that was what you wanted to do with your time and money?" Hyunjin opened his mouth to speak but his eyes glanced behind you and he smiled warmly,
"Geum Ji Eun," He greeted, you spun around to see a teenage boy who bowed to you both and you did the same.
"It's beautiful, no?" Someone with a thick British accent asked causing you to turn your head to see someone standing beside you. You'd spotted him around as you'd been walking but you smiled a little at him, trying to be as polite as possible,
"Ah, now I see the real reason for your stare, you're the woman in the painting," You'd been staring at the painting for almost ten minutes now trying to figure out why Hyunjin would have painted you and displayed you here. The piece was labelled "Little Muse" and it wasn't the only painting that displayed you as the main focus but it was the one you were most drawn to.
It depicted you inside of an art studio in a white button-up shirt and shorts while painting on your own canvas, it was clearly something Hyunjin had created on a whim since you'd never done anything like that but it was beautiful.
"I don't think I am, I think it's just a coincidence," You laughed nervously looking around for Hyunjin but you could no longer see him from where you were standing.
"I don't think so, I think Hyunjin painted you for a reason." The man stepped closer to you and all of the hairs stood up on the back of your neck letting you know that something wasn't right.
"That reason being?" You backed off a little but he continued to step forward until you hit something hard behind you, panicking you looked up to see a bald man who could have been 6''5 looking down at you with an angry scowl on his face.
"He wants people to know you're his," The first man growled out, stepping toward you so that he was almost touching you,
"I suggest you move away from my future wife or I'll make sure you die a slow and torturous death," You said nothing about the future wife comment but watched as the two men scattered away from you clearly terrified of Hyunjin.
"Future wife?" You questioned him as he stepped closer to you, looking down at you and scanning your features trying to see if you were hurt or scared in any way but you didn't appear to be.
"How is it, that two men can scare you and you completely forget about them and ask me about something I said?" He laughed a little and shook his head at you, you were braver than he thought.
"I knew you'd never let them hurt me." You spoke without thinking about it first causing you and Hyunjin to freeze in place. He didn't think earning your trust would be as easy as it was.
"You trust me that much?"
"I-" You did and you didn't even know why, but you did and you weren't going to lie about it to him.
"I'm not sure why, but I do." A giant smile took over Hyunjin's face and he took you by your arm and began to walk around the gallery with you once again.
Throughout the rest of the evening whenever you were introduced to someone Hyunjin made sure to introduce you as his "future wife" which would have been something that put you off but for some reason it didn't. It only made you giggle and shake your head at him.
"Thank you for an amazing night," Hyunjin said as he slowly leaned forward a kissed your cheek, sparks flew from the contact and your stomach felt as though it was going to explode.
"Do you want to come up for a hot drink?" You found yourself asking, you didn't want the night to end and you needed more of him.
"Are you sure?" You nodded at him and Hyunjin paid his driver to wait for him but you smirked a little.
"Spend the night," As soon as the words left your lips Hyunjin's cheeks blushed bright red and you turned to walk into the building, swaying your hips a little as you knew he'd be watching you walk away from him.
"You're so hot," He groaned as you got into the elevator of your apartment, your body was pushed up against the mirror as you looked back at him a giggled.
"Do you know how hard it's been keeping my hands and lips to myself all night?"
"No one told you to," You whined out at him before he kissed your neck softly.
"You enjoy challenging me, don't you? Fuck, it turns me on so much whenever you fight back at me." He groaned a little before kissing up to your lips and kissing you deeply, grabbing your neck and pushing you into him.
He wanted to take his time with you and be gentle but he couldn't, not when he was craving you as much as he did right now. His lips moved to your neck and he began sucking on your skin, smirking as he heard a moan escape your lips that was almost as beautiful as you.Â
"I need to taste you," He groaned sinking to his knees in front of you making your eyes fly open,
"Hyunjin, we're in public,"
"I want to taste you, so I'm going to," Besides it was almost two in the morning it wasn't as though someone was going to get into the elevator with you.Â
He pushed the dress up and found you naked below the silk,
"No underwear?" He smirked before he gently began rubbing your clit making you gasp out, you were soaking wet for him and he wasn't going to waste a single second waiting to get to your apartment. His tongue dragged against your slit and you whined at him,
"Please...Hyunjin," You begged no longer caring that you were in an elevator with him right now.
"Spread your legs, I want full access to what's mine." He ordered and this time you didn't fight him, you moved your legs further apart and he placed one of them over his shoulder. He was ravenous for the taste of you, he wanted nothing more than to make you cum for him as he sucked on your clit slowly pushed two fingers into you and stole your moans away from you,
"That's it, little muse, let it go." He moaned out as you began to work your hips on him, grinding yourself into his face as he thrust his tongue into you. Your hands slowly moved to his hair and you gripped onto him tightly as you rode his face, moaning his name louder each time you rocked your hips.
"F-Fuck," You swore out, your eyes screwed shut as your orgasm hit you knocking you over the edge as you screamed his name out.
Hyunjin slowly raised and smirked as the elevator arrived at your floor and you stormed out dragging him but his blazer as you tried your best to hurriedly open your apartment door.
As soon as the two of you were in your apartment you threw your arms around the back of his neck and kissed him desperately, kicking off your shoes and biting down on his lip.
"I need you," You moaned out, the orgasm you'd gotten in the elevator wasn't enough, you needed more of him, all of him and you weren't going to stop until you had him.
"You sure? I don't want you to regret it," You knew he was teasing you and you hated him for it as you unbuckled his belt and pulled him free from the confines of his pants.
"Does it seem like I will?" You moaned out, pumping his cock in your hand slowly as he let out a low groan,
"I want you," You begged, pushing the head of his cock to your clit and rubbing yourself against him, the friction simply wasn't enough for you,
"Don't I deserve it?" You put on a pleading voice and Hyunjin growled, if he wasn't careful he was going to lose control of you and he wanted to savour every second he had.
"Tell me you want this," He ground out, looking down at you as you giggled a little.
"I want you to fuck me Hwang Hyunjin." Without a second to lose he followed you to your bed and smirked as you stripped out of your dress hurriedly making him strip too.
"You sure?" He smirked as he watched you glare at him,
"Shut the fuck up and fuck me," You mumbled as he laid you down on the bed, his head dipping down as he licked your breast biting down on your nipple and tugging it with his teeth, you whimpered out and your legs spread further apart. You pointed to the nightstand and Hyunjin ragged it open, finding a condom and rolling it onto himself with not a second to spare.
It was slow at first as he thrust into you, looking down at you as he gave you some time to adjust, his lips kissing you hungrily as you tightened around him. God, he was bigger than you thought he was and your eyes squeezed tightly as you tried to ignore the slight pain you were feeling, you knew it would pass soon.
âYouâre so tight, little muse.â He groaned, slowly pulling out of you and thrusting into you once more, your walls stretching around him each time as you whimpered his name out.
"You're just too big," You hissed, pulling his hair a little as he groaned,
"But you can take me, can't you, little muse?" He teased pushing into you deeper and you could have sworn you could feel him in your gut,
âH-Hyunjin,â You moaned out, looking at him as he smirked a little.
âFasterâŚPlease,â You begged before he nodded at you, thrusting in and out of you a little faster this time, your whole body shaking as you moaned his name out so loud you were sure your neighbours were going to complain but you didnât care.
Sex with Hyunjin felt like nothing could ever harm you again, like nothing else in the world mattered as long as he was fucking you.
âI want you like this every night,â He groaned out, thrusting harder as he looked down at you with lust in his eyes.
âI want you everywhere, over my desk, in my office, fuck,â He grunted out as his cocked pumped in you again, the sound of your skin colliding growing louder inside of the quiet room.
âI need you all the damn time.â He grunted as he kissed you deeply, your legs wrapping around his waist as you pulled him closer. God, you felt so good he never wanted this to end but he could feel his orgasm rushing closer each time you clenched around him and you werenât far off either. He could tell by the way your mouth formed an O and your moans turned into quieter whimpers.
âHyunjin,â You warned out as you squeezed around his cock, his hips moving at a faster speed as he grunted your name out. The new pace of his cock made your orgasm hit you like a truck and you cried out, squeezing him as you cried his name out loudly. Watching you lose it for him sent him over the edge as you milked his cock of everything heâd been holding back,
âYouâre mine, little muse. My future wife, mine.â You slumped against the bed as you nodded at him, whimpering as he pulled free from you and discarded the used condom into the bin inside of your room.
âYours.â You mumbled to him as he let out a breathy chuckle and made his way to your bathroom, running you a hot bath for you to relax inside of before he took you for a second time that night.
Throughout the years your relationship with Hyunjin only grew stronger the longer that you were together and you were always his âlittle museâ no matter who came into his life, including your daughter whom he called âmini museâ. The two of you were the light of his life and he was so thankful to run into you all those years ago in the paint store - which he bought and renamed âlittle museâ after you got married. It was safe to say Hyunjin was more than obsessed with you.
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Unhappy Holidays
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions đťđŚđđ
Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors dni, enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).
Prompt Request: #50"You're so fucking obsessed with me.â #82"Really? Because your pussy is saying something different, sweetheart.â #93"Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.â
A/N: This is my first submission for @imagining-in-the-margins November/December Office Party writing challenge! I'm sorry I've been so busy recently, but the holiday season really does take a lot of effort to get through at work lmao. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more over my vacation! For now, enjoy some very unserious smut~⥠(as if I write any other kind).
Here's a link to my masterlist, where you can find all my work!~â
Working with the FBI was no walk in the park, which, from your desk at the opposite corner of the bullpen, Spencer Reid sure made it look like.
Working on adjacent teams for the last three years had become gradually infuriating. You were forever in the man's orbit, stuck dealing with the other women on your team sat giggling about him and his many stupid haircuts, and wondering just how far you'd fallen to have to stare at his stupid face 5 days a week.
If you were unlucky. His team did happen to be out on cases a lot more, whereas yours handled correspondence and consulting cases, a cushy and safe job.
It annoyed you to no end that you had multiple field-based qualifications, extensive fire arms training and were top of your class at the academy only to be relegated yo desk duty whilst boy wonder with his doctorates was allowed to trip over his own feet catching actual killers.
Other people wondered where your dislike of the man sprang from, and you could only let out a disgruntled squeak and tell them your horror stories.
A few months into your job, your been fresh faced and bushy tailed or however that saying goes, and overly eager to take any assignment that came your way. Even if the assignment was baby-sitting an injured Doctor Spencer Reid. He'd been shot whilst out on a case whilst trying to talk down an unsub, and you'd jumped at the chance to get to know him.
He was an office legend, of course, though those days it was more for his characteristic lack of social graces rather than the beauty he'd grown into. You'd been so eager to get to pick his brains, find out how he'd managed to score the position on the BAU at such an early age.
Reality had hit you square in the face when he'd spent a week ignoring you, making you run around like a headless chicken searching for hard copies of documents the FBI had digitised a millennia ago, and hadn't so much as spared you a glance.
The straw that broke the camel's back came as you were running back to him triumphant with a document he'd requested eight hours before and had let yourself into Penelope Garciaâs office quietly, only to hear him bad mouthing you.
âShe makes me uncomfortable. I've had her out searching for useless files all day because I don't know what to do with her.â
âShe's trying to help, Spencer, it's her job right now, cut her some slack.â
âHer job is currently getting in the way of mine. I even tried writing my own doctor's note so I could get rid of her, but Hotch wouldn't allow it.â
You'd dropped the file loudly on the table, watched the two spin around with horrified looks and turned silently and left the room.
He hadn't once tried to find you after that, and you let your apprenticeship under Doctor Reid quietly fizzle out as you got back to your regular work.
Your resentment still burned though.
Each time you'd been caught in the same elevator with him, you'd ignored him to an almost insane degree, enjoying the way he squirmed and tried to make small talk.
You'd been in contact with JJ and his Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner as well, through cases you'd recommended, but always maintained your cold shoulder.
The one place you could not ignore him, however, was a Penelope Garcia party.
After you'd slammed the file down on her desk, Penelope had guiltily sent you a gift basket filled with sweet treats and books, and had hounded you for a week to make sure your feelings weren't too damaged by her friend's stupidity.
You actually liked her, and found at least one silver lining to the storm that was Spencer Reid ripping through your life.
In the three years since the âincident,â you'd found yourself at three parties where Penelope in all of her heartwarming ways had tried her best to force a reconciliation between the two of you, to disastrous results.
The first was a Halloween party, and you'd been incredibly proud of your Princess Laia costume when you'd arrived. Only until you'd gone to the kitchen to top up your drink to hear Spencer Reid boring some guest or the other about how Star Trek was more advanced, and had a richer plot line.
Penelope had stepped into the kitchen just as he'd caught a glimpse of your (rather skimpy) outfit - yes, you'd chosen swimsuit Laia, yes, you were going to own it - and had immediately jumped into introductions, as if you weren't already intimately acquainted.
âSpencer! This is Y/N! She loves Halloween, too, she makes all of her costumes. You guys should talk.â She'd led the other guest away and left you there with Spencer as you'd awkwardly looked upon his own costume.
âAre you the Tenth Doctor?â You asked begrudgingly, noting his pin-striped suit and the shorter hairstyle he'd chosen.
âAre you a fan? I prefer the original show run more than the current stuff, but David Tennant has really been doing a wonderful-â
âI'm sorry, let me stop you there. I don't watch Doctor Who. I guess I prefer something with a⌠How should I say, richer plot?â
He'd snapped his mouth shut and didn't have chance to open it again before you turned dramatically and walked away from him.
The second party you'd been cornered into was just over a year later.
Having been stuck in the office over Halloween, Penelope was determined to get in one last celebration before Christmas steam-rolled every other holiday, and thus you'd been invited to her single-people-only-friendsgiving-potluck, and you'd found yourself having to navigate knocking on her door with a casserole dish in your hands.
Luckily a large hand had appeared from behind you and knocked on the door for you. Unfortunately, the sudden shock from the silent appearance of a man right behind you startled you so much that the dish fell straight from your hands anyway.
Penelope opened her door upon hearing the crash and you whirled on your would-be attacker.
It was Spencer again, eyes round in shock, hand still curled into a fist.
You took a calming breath as you gathered yourself, trying not to bite his head off. You wanted to scream and shout and rip his head out but you didn't, instead letting the fury drip into your voice as you finally opened your eyes again.
âThat dish took me four fucking hours to make.â You huffed in anger once more as Penelope guided you into the apartment and poured you a glass of wine before you moved back to the entry hall to clean it up again.
Needless to say he didn't care to converse with you after that.
A few small parties in between had been blissfully Spencer-less and you'd lulled yourself into a false sense of security. That's when you accepted the Christmas party invitation.
As one of the unlucky few members of the FBI who had to stay out over christmas in case of some emergency or the other, you'd been grounded in Virginia, unable to travel home for the holidays. So Penelope Garcia's singles-only-Christmas-fun-time-Party was your last ditch effort to spend the holidays actually resting and eating good food.
Learning from last time, Penelope reassured you that there was no potluck, that she had prepared all the food herself, and all you'd need were a bottle of wine and a willingness to party.
You'd taken those recommendations as law and had immediately let yourself into a glass of mulled wine as you arrived, and - noticing that the party was Reid-free - had allowed it to raise your Christmas spirits slightly more than you usually would.
By hour two of the event, you were full of yuletide joy and swaying freely along to the tune of Silent Night.
Spencerâs late entrance really would have gone unnoticed by you had you not bumped face first into his chest as you spun yourself around in your dance, his hands quickly falling to your hips to steady you.
The few moments it took you to gather yourself were about as long as you needed to realised that he'd caught you in his arms underneath the mistletoe. And with your mind fogged by mulled-whatever-it-was-Penelope-mixed-into-that-punch, the part of your brain that objected to the very existence of Spencer Reid went silent, and the incredibly tiny and somewhat damaged part of your brain that instead saw him as attractive started shouting loud instructions.
Before your common sense could return, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss the very warm, very close man holding you upright.
âMistletoe,â you muttered as you clawed his arms off of you and took yourself straight to Penelope's bathroom to throw up.
So yes, your acquaintance with Spencer Reid had never been good, and you were perfectly fine with resenting him from afar, privately.
With three years of bad experiences under your belt, you weren't excited at completing your yearly tradition of horrendous interaction. Which is perhaps why you immediately and loudly protested Penelopeâs New Years Eve party invitation.
âY/N, it's a party. What's the worst that can happen?â She pleaded as she followed you down the corridors of the office building.
âI could see Spencer Reid. I could be forced to converse with Spencer Reid. I could get absolutely wasted and kiss Spencer Reid. There, three options, please accept my resignation from partying.â
âY/N we both know you don't drink anymore, so at least one of those is unlikely to happen. And Spencer might not even come, he has tickets for an indie theatre from 6pm onwards, they're playing some Russian movie from the 60s that's like 4 hours long or something. So u retire yourself and tell me you'll come?â She had to take three or four steps for each of your own, not that you were so different in height but because you were practically marching in order to avoid the topic.
But you finally stopped and let out a sigh as you turned back to Penelope who stopped just before she ran into you.
âYou're sure he won't be there?â
âI'm sure he RSVPâd no.â
âFine. But I'm not drinking and I will still be expecting the Penelope Garcia virgin punch experience.â
âBring the party poppers and you have a deal.â
âDone.â
âXâ
Over the week since you'd accepted the invitation, you'd made peace with it. For the most part, you did love a Penelope Garcia production. There was something wonderful about your friend and her ability to brighten anyone's mood, an ability that was only heightened at holidays. She was like a glittered goddess gaining power when worshippers used her altar, except the altar was her house and the worship was a range of hallmark-induced holidays.
You arrived at the party at 10pm, and though that was the start time you'd been given, you weren't surprised to see a full house of Penelopeâs team mates already in attendance. Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss sat spread across the sofa in the living room area, and you noticed a few techie friends also grabbing drinks and chatting.
âY/N, I'm so glad you're here! You remember everyone on the team, right?â She pulled you into a hug and then sat you down in the middle of the group, waiting for you to mingle and become comfortable before she ran off to more hostess duties.
âOf course, nice to see you guys.â You grabbed your promised punch and sat back comfortably, striking up a conversation with Emily about how bleak the dating scene had been recently.
âIt seems like all the men around me are jackasses,â Emily muttered and you giggled along.
âI'm wounded,â Morgan shot back, a hand pressed to his chest in faux pain.
âGood. You're like a lion out there in the clubs stalking gazelles, it's like watching a nature documentary when you're out there.â
You almost snorted your entire drink up your nose as Emily finished, needing to compose yourself for a second.
âI guess the men on our team aren't great with romance,â JJ laughed and took a swing. âHotch and Rossi have four divorces between them, and Derek here is a lost cause.â
âOur only hope is young Spencer. May he grow into a respectful young gentleman and break out curse,â Emily toasted.
âOh that ship has sailed,â your laugh this time was bitter, your mood immediately growing sour with even the smallest mention of Spencer Reid.
âAh, Penelope mentioned you had a problem with our boy wonder. Care to share?â
You opened your mouth to give your standard non-answer and move the conversation along, but you were interrupted.
âYes, Y/N, care to share? I am slightly curious about that as well.â You turned around and there he was, and your stomach turned in disgust.
Just one time, just one party. You'd been having fun, and here he was to ruin it.
âWhat are you doing here?â you gaped up at him, unsurprised to see him still decked out in sweater vest and slacks even in his down time.
âI was invited.â
âYou declined, Penelope said you had movie tickets.â
âTicket, singular. And it was cancelled so here I am. What's your problem with me, Y/N?â His jaw clenched and he grabbed the back of your chair and leaned down. It was supposed to be intimidating, but you rolled your eyes. When he looked that attractive, veins in his arms popping out of the sleeves he'd pulled up, you couldn't see him as intimidating. His arms were distracting yes, but God that was nothing compared to his thighs. His pants were tight, and you thanked whatever Clueless tailor had sewn them, because you now allowed yourself a momentary lapse to enjoy the appearance of his lower body.
You tried to shake the thought of his attractiveness from your mind, reminding yourself where you were and in what company.
âI don't think I need to answer that. I think I'll enjoy holding it over your head instead,â you said, standing up and beginning to gather your things.
âWait, Y/N, where are you going? New Year isn't for another 30 minutes.â Penelope scrambled over and grabbed your hand, pleading with you to stay.
âI'm sorry Pen, but there's just this very annoying bug buzzing around me, and I think I need to get away from it.â You said your goodbyes and excused yourself from the party, happy to have walked away relatively undamaged.
Fate had other plans, and as you stepped out of the apartment building ready to walk yourself home, a hand caught yours from behind as a voice chased you.
âY/N, wait. I'll go. You go back inside.â
âAnd return with my tail tucked between my legs after making a grand exit? I'll pass, thanks boy genius.â You shook yourself from his grasp and made to walk away again, but he quickly matched your pace and stepped into your path, cutting you off.
âI can't let you walk home. It's like 40° out here, and your coat is more style than substance.â
âGet into a car with a stranger? I'm sure you of all people know how stupid that sounds.â You stuck a finger out and poked his chest, but he grabbed your hand and held it in place as he spat out his next words.
âI'm not a stranger, I'm the man you're obsessed with, Y/N. Big difference.â You laughed, mostly in shock at his indignance, but he stared at your face as serious as could be.
âMe? Obsessed with you? I'm not the one who followed a woman they're barely acquainted with out of a party filled with all of my friends. Sounds like you're projecting, Spencer.â
âAm I?â He questioned, stepping closer and grabbing your hip as he continued his questioning. âI wasn't the one who was sat there talking about me with all of my colleagues.â
âWell, I wasn't the one who turned up to a party I'd declined an invitation to.â
He was imperceptibly close now, hand gripping your hip so tight you wondered if it'd leave you with a mark.
âI certainly was not the one who initiated a kiss last year, Y/N. You need to face the facts, you're so fucking obsessed with me.â If his hands had you feeling dizzy, his words were completely knocking the sense out of you. Suddenly you returned to the person you'd been under that Mistletoe, and everything from his closeness to the rough edge to his voice begged you to do it once again.
âGo fuck yourself,â was about all the words you could manage as he finally let his lips fall down and crush into your own.
You should've pushed him away, but instead your traitorous body wanted to prove his point, opening up for him faster than you'd opened up to anyone else before.
His tongue flicked against your lips and you gladly let him explore your mouth, opening up to tangle your tongue with his.
He tasted sweet, like the punch Penelope had handed you earlier, only now you wondered if someone had accidentally laced it with how free you were being with your affections.
He resurfaced for air, but you didn't care if there was nothing in your lungs at all if it meant that his lips would engage your own in battle once again.
âLook how much you want me,â he smirked. âLook how needy you are after a single kiss, chasing my lips like that.â
âYou and your big fucking mouth. I wish you'd shut up once in a while.â
âI'll make it my new yearâs resolution.â His lips joined your own again, and you clashed hard, exploring as much as you could muster as he pulled you in the direction of his car.
âI'm not driving⌠home⌠with you,â you growled between kisses, trying not to put your teeth to his neck and bite down hard. You're not sure if that impulse was a murderous one or a kinky one.
âI'm not putting you in the front seat, Y/N, I'm putting you in the back. You should be familiar with the idea.â
Heat sparked between your legs, and you allowed yourself to be manhandled into the beat-up trash heap of a car.
He'd not taken his hands off you as he got you in, pushing himself in first and then pulling you by the hand that you'd unconsciously gripped hard. You immediately straddled his hips, skirt naturally riding up in the process. He noticed and looked curiously down at you, growling as you pressed your lips against his neck and grabbed you instead by the hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of your head.
âSee, you're obsessed with me. Just admit it.â Without breaking eye contact, he dug his fingers into the material of your tights and pulled in opposite directions, leaving your underwear exposed to his wandering eyes.
âI'm not obsessed with you,â your voice needed conviction to land, but it came out as a lusty whisper, especially as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear and finally touched your aching cunt.
âReally? Because your pussy is saying something else, Princess.â He found your clit faster than you'd ever expected, rubbing slow circles into your skin as you began rocking your hips back and forth.
It was becoming hard to disagree with him, with each flick of wrist growing the heat between your legs. You attacked his neck again, hands practically ripping at his top buttons so you could muffle the sounds of your arousal against his neck, collarbone, chest, any stretch of that pale skin available to you.
He forced your hips to a stop with one hand as he slipped a single digit inside of your hole, gathering your arousal as he set a steady pace, thumb keeping your bundle of nerves occupied.
âListen, Y/N, can you hear that?â
âI can't h-hear anything.â You had to grind your teeth together to get the words out with minimal interruptions of moans bursting from the pit of your stomach.
He leaned in close to your ear, nuzzling your neck and placing chaste kisses up towards your ear, finally pulling away just enough to whisper a single word in your ear.
âLiar.â
His hand stilled and pulled off you quickly and your eyes broke open, hands unconsciously fitting into his shirt as if you were worried he was going to leave you there like this, on the edge of pleasure but still so far away.
âUse my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.â
âJackass. You've only been here for like 20 minutes.â
âYou can climb right out of this car if you want to, Y/N.â He tried to keep his tone light, but the death grip he had on your thighs, the very obvious tent pitched in his pants and the way his eyes couldn't go five seconds without undressing you told you you had more power in this interaction than he wanted to give you.
There was no way either of you were letting the other go unused tonight.
You relaxed your grip on his shirt and shifted your weight to one of his thighs. Lithe he may be, but lowering yourself down there was an unexpected strength there. He watched on curiously as you rocked experimentally against him. Back and forth you rocked, trying desperately to keep up his momentum or tempt him to help you out again.
It was time to let your voice back out, and you did, moaning without a care as you hummed his leg like a bitch in heat.
âYou're enjoying this lot, huh, Y/N,â he muttered, and you watched as his hand worked his pants zip open, removing one of the barriers in the way between the two of you, as he began palming himself.
âWhat's that saying? Anything you can do, I can do better?â He growled at that response but didn't stop you. Instead he bought a hand down on your ass as you moved, so hard you jolted at the sudden pain. Your eyes shot open as your hips stilled, but you felt warmth grow between your legs.
âYes, you definitely enjoyed that. Should I do that again, or do you think we should hurry this up and go back up for the countdown?â
You hesitated only a second before you pushed his hand off his lap, shifting your hips further towards his knees before letting your hand reach for where his had just been.
You didn't let yourself think about how big he was as you pulled his cock free, didn't let yourself wonder how he measured up against anyone you'd been with before. You didn't let yourself waste time thinking about how various office rumours were true, and definitely not a second was wasted feeling jealous about how those rumours were spread in the first place.
Instead you simply slammed your lips back against his, mouth opening to let your tongue engage his as you lifted your hips with his help and lowered yourself down on him.
You didn't have to rid yourself of sinful thoughts after that as he purged every single brain cell from your head, filling you so contently that there was simply no space for anything but him.
You locked up on top of him, clawing at his shoulders as you whimpered at the stretched, falling so he was balls deep inside you. You wanted to move, to use him for your pleasure, but your walls tightened every time you even thought about it as he stroked your hair through it all.
It had been some time since you'd last had a sexual partner, and you needed the few minutes to overcome the first uncomfortable bliss of it all.
âThat good?â he whispered, but the harsh tone of earlier was gone, replaced only by unsure humour to break the silence.
âBeen a while.â He nodded, kissing you again to distraction as he shifted your positions.
Cradling your neck and securing your legs comfortably around him, he lowered you against the backseat, pulling out slightly as you adjusted to the new angle.
âBetter?â You nodded quickly, because it was. There was no more pressure on your legs, and despite the cramped space in the car, you had enough space to lie almost flat.
âYes⌠thank you.â Just as his cutting tone had escaped him, you also heard your own tone softening, the sigh of contentment slipping past your lips almost sweet. Almost.
âAre you going to fuck me now, or what?â
He let out a shocked laugh, but lent down to shut you up with a kiss nonetheless. Bracing himself against the car door, his hips softly rocked into you, pace increasing until you were back to the edge of cumming, nails pressed hard into his skin until you were sure he was going to complain.
He didn't though, but kept up his thrusts, until your vision suddenly darkened and stars exploded in them, rolled back in your head as they were.
âShit, shit, shit, shit, where should IâŚ?â He panicked, but you wrapped your legs around him, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down to swallow his moan as he shot his load inside of you.
âBirth control.â You whispered when you finally let him go, gasping for air. âContraceptive pill. No need to get the car dirty.â
He collapsed on top of you then, forehead resting against your own as you both caught your breaths.
The moment was silent, and you found the synchronicity of your breaths almost calming. Eventually you had to break apart, and he helped you up to a sitting position, but didn't break eye contact as fell back into his lap.
His hands stroked your back, dipping to your ass at times, but he didn't talk. Neither of you did.
The eye contact between the two of you was possibly the most pleasant conversation you'd ever had.
âI'm sorry.â He blurted, just as fireworks erupted into the night sky. Your heart shook, and you weren't sure of it was the shock of the sound, or the way the rainbow of lights illuminated his sincere expression.
âYou don't have to apologise for cumming in me, Spencer.â
âNot that. Before. The casserole and the mistletoe, and the Halloween costume.â
âWow. Um, okay. Apology accepted, I guess, though I'm not entirely sure why you're apologising now.â
He took a deep breath just as another set of fireworks went up.
âI pulled you under the mistletoe. It was Penelopeâs idea, she knew how stupid I was being around you and sent me over. I saw it and took the chance.â
âFuck. Why?â
âBecause I was pretty useless at being chivalrous the year before.â
You climbed off his lap in a scramble and sat on the seat beside him, mind racing, trying to figure out where the hell he was going with this.
He turned to you, trying to keep your attention as he stumbled over the words.
âYou couldn't knock on the door, so I wanted to help you, but I didn't think I'd scare you so much you'd drop it.â
âYou didn't scare me it was a momentary lapse in my observational skills.â
âYou shrieked,â a smile threatened to pull his lips up, they twitched as you flushed red.
âAnd Halloween?â You looked at him again now, trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the two of you.
âYou refused to look at me for a year after we stopped working together,â he shrugged quickly running a hand through his hair and expelling a breath. âI donât really know how to talk to women.â
âYou just know how to piss them off?â
âMorgan says it comes naturally.â
âYeah, well, Morgan is very wise.â
A brief silence stretched between you, or as silent as a night full of cracks, pops, whizzes and bangs could be.
âI don't get it. You tried your best to get rid of me when I was there to help you. I wanted to impress you, and you kept sending me on meaningless errands, and now you're saying what? You wanted my attention?â There was a quiet anger to your voice, but you were surprised to find it diminished and tired.
âI wanted you gone because you were distracting me, Y/N, not because I hated you.â
âWell, what's the difference, Doctor Reid? Please indulge me.â You huffed a little but kept your eyes on him, trying not to seem too desperate for his answer.
âI have an IQ of 187. Emily says when I'm around a pretty girl it's more like 52,â he fidgeted with his pants, forcing the words out.
âYou're a pretty girl. We had a case to work and all I could think about was how to get you to like me. Hotch chewed me out like three separate times for being absent minded.â
He was looking anywhere but you, trying his best not to appear like a fool but you were locked onto him.
âOh my god you're an idiot.â
âWhen you're around, yes.â
âAnd that means I'm equally stupid.â
âNo, you just jump to conclusions and hold grudges. There wasn't anything really that stupid about your actions, though it could be suggested that not thoroughly thinking through the wording of the conversation you overheard-â
You cut him off with a kiss, pulling him down again mlby his tie.
âOh my god, shut up,â you whispered as you broke apart.
âDoes that mean we can do this again? Because I'd like to do this again?â
âStop talking, start kissing jackass.â
He finally didn't argue with that, pulling you back into him as you sat under the stars in his car welcoming the new year.
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Do the batfamily members ever get too into their undercover work? (Undercover in an office and theyre worried about spreadsheets, working in a warehouse and coming home complaining about missing parts)
Bruce: Status updates on your undercover missions. Dick, you first. What have you got down at the docks?
Dick: I haven't confirmed the Killer Croc sightings yet, but more importantly, our catch hasn't been measuring up to last year's. Tuna we're doing okay on, but the salmon population seems to be on the low end. I've contacted the Department of Wildlife and Fisheries but it'll be another 3-5 business days before they can come down and check it out.
Bruce: At least you're doing something to help. Jason?
Jason: Class was okay. I think the kids are warming up to me as their substitute while Mrs. Maloney is out on maternity leave. The average on the last vocabulary quiz was 83.53% so either I'm doing my job right or they need to be challenged. I'm worried about Tristan Lancy, though. He's normally a good student but his grades have been dropping recently and his parents don't seem like safe people to tell. I'll talk to him tomorrow and try to pair him up with a peer tutor if he needs it.
Bruce: Also see if he has any alternate contacts besides his parents. Tim, any updates at the chemical plant?
Tim: If by updates you mean OSHA violations, I could go on all week. We got a batch of new recruits today and they were just thrown into the workâno PPE, no safety training, nothing. This is what happens when you place production over employee well-being. I'm gonna file a complaint after this meeting. Also, I think the union will have something to say about the manager cutting people's lunch breaks short.
Bruce: I see. Damian? Please tell me you found something volunteering at the zoo.
Damian: Depends on how you define "found." While I have not obtained evidence of a mutant larvae black market, I did help some of the animals at the sanctuary make progress with their recovery. Bobo the monkey is healing from his broken arms and we're gradually getting him re-acclimated to climbing higher surfaces. Suzie the black bear was born a little prematurely but seems to be catching up to her peers in terms of growth. Lastly, we got a grant for additional wildcat research and enrichment. As an aside, we are having an educational seminar on European mountain goats this Friday at 3:30 and I expect all of you to be there.
Bruce: I'll put that on our calendars. Steph?
Steph: It's not really undercover work for me, just work. Anyway, yes the newest Batburger location is being used for money laundering. But I really need to vent about the customers for a sec. We don't open until 10 and at 9:30 this morning some moron was banging on our door demanding Jokerized cheese fries. Then right in the middle of the lunch rush, Janie got sick so I had to fill in as the cashier and it was hell. After that, I had to step in between a fight at the drive-thru because the customer claimed we only gave him nine pieces of his ten-piece Robin nuggets and tried to beat up the kid who took his order. And to top it all off, an entire high school hockey team came in five minutes before closing.
Bruce: Cass?
Cass, blowing balloons: Can't talk. Arranging bat mitzvah.
Bruce: Duke, you're my last hope.
Duke: Margie's bringing a peanut butter chocolate cake to the bake sale. I swiped her recipe and we can easily beat her. Her ganache is way too watery and just runs off the top of the cake, which isn't even leveled. She's also trying to do something with a raspberry filling that isn't working at all. It's like she couldn't decide on what to bring. The bake sale committee also asked if we can bring some apple pies because the original baker has to go out of town for a family emergency. I think we'll win if we bring them with some ice cream and a touch of caramel, even though this isn't a contest.
Bruce: Thank you. At least our most critical case has been taken care of.
Barbara: ...I'll save my book launch for later.
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LAP Bands should be illegal
This post is going to deal with medical fatphobia, weight loss surgery, coercion, emetophobia, food issues, disordered eating, and just all around bad shit. But itâs important.
Shortly after I reached adulthood, I was coerced into weight loss surgery. I weighed about 250 pounds and was considered morbidly obese.
The Lap Band is a disgrace to the medical profession and is just another example of how the medical profession does not care about the lives of fat people.
To preface this: the surgery works. I lost 70 pounds and people treated me differently and I hated them all for it.
The Lap Band made my life miserable. When it was filled, I could not eat until noon without getting stuck. Even then, getting stuck was always a risk. There was a strict diet to follow and you were supposed to be safe from that if you followed it. On top of that, there were rules for how you ate. One standard I saw was not to eat in bites larger than your fingernail. Can you see yourself doing that for a week, let alone years and years?
Getting stuck is a horror you can't imagine. The food lodges in the top of your stomach, blocking off your system. You continue to produce saliva and swallow it down. Slowly, the mucous in your saliva builds up. It feels like you're drowning. Eventually, you have to essentially throw it all up. A disgusting experience (and a mortifying one if you're in public.) The saliva is thick and ropy. This experience is often called "sliming" on the forums.
I became frightened of eating in public. In a way, I became frightened of food altogether. I knew something had to give the day I reacted to someone biting a hamburger in a tv show the way a regular person would react to a killer jumping out in a horror movie. I developed the disgusting and unhealthy habit of chewing and spitting out food. I completely lost my enjoyment of many foods I had previously enjoyed because of how problematic they were (I can no longer enjoy a chicken thigh for example.) I stopped eating meals and began grazing. I developed eating habits worse than the ones that "made me fat"
After 3 years, I had the band emptied of fluid, which significantly decreased, but did not stop, these problems. I regained the weight, and found it didn't bother me. (Along the way I discovered that my discomfort with my body had never been weight related)
I had my band removed after 6.5 years earlier this year. I am in a support group on facebook for victims of this malpractice. There are 5.6 thousand members, each with their own horror stories. Some of them cannot get the band removed because insurance will not cover the procedure, though they happily covered the band's placement. Some have tried to go through with removal but have had surgeons try to coerce them into getting a different weight-loss surgery instead of just removing it. Many have long-term damage from the band eroding the walls of their stomach or esophagus, or from the band adhering to multiple organs. Many of them had the band for 12-14 years, before removal because none of our doctors told us it needs to be removed within 10.
Many practices no longer perform Lap Band surgery and now believe it is unethical. The surgeon who removed my band still performs this surgery regularly.
A study performed in 2011 with 151 lap band patients, found that 22% of patients experienced minor complications and 39% experienced major complications. The person who coerced me into surgery actually experienced major complications and needed an emergency removal.
I experienced no serious complications. Everything I described above is considered normal. And It still drastically lowered my quality of life.
I don't know why I'm sharing this or who I'm sharing it for, but here I am. If you know anyone considering the lap band surgery, don't let them go through with it without knowing the truth. And please be kinder to your body than the medical profession wants you to be.
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A Doe in Fall (part 2)
I have a terrible case of the big bad sads so enjoy part 2 earlier than I planned
â˘HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall
Part 1 - Pretty in Red smutđŚ
Part 2 - Liar smutđŚ
Part 3 - A Tragedy smutđŚ
Part 4 - Enough
Part 2 Liar
You not-stalk Alastor for weeks but donât find anything blackmail worthy to grab ahold of. But luckily (?) for you, a chance encounter pulls you deeper into his hobbies and therefore his scope of fascination. Most importantly, do murderers go on dates?
ăWarnings/Promises: Smut, HumanAlastor x FemBurlesquerReader, Alastor eats pussy like beignets (MESSY), dancing, shoe stress, murder, dead body, food metaphors, stalking, masturbation, Tommy is a bad dude, allusion to coerced prostitution, praise kink?, public sex acts, stage name is a fucking pun GOTCHU BITCHES, Gluttonyă
minors dni please
The nights you didnât work were spent casually looking for Alastor. Not stalking, just âŚ. pursuing.Â
You found over the course of several weeks what places he never attended, and a few that he did like clockwork. As much as you wanted to approach him, you knew youâd end up checkmated again. You just wanted to observe the man, surely youâd see something you could use against him, something tangible.
What was he doing? Knife carrying smooth talker who fingers ladies in the park? There was more to him than you anticipated. That addictive adrenaline rush was calling you to chase him. Youâd catch him in the act of whatever men like him did, andâ- well, youâd figure it out then. Was he a mugger, maybe? The knife would make sense. But he disposed of bodies so well, a month and no mention of a corpse anywhere. You didnât want to even touch the thought bubbling up in the back of your skull. It was getting louder and louder, heavier than the other thoughts.
A repeat killer.
You decided, somewhat foolishly, if he was a killer it would be best to know that information. So you needed to continue even if the cards all read death. Right?Â
Right.
For all his efforts, he hadnât actually noticed you. While he tended to stay at the back of the room, you were always further back, on the balcony, at the bar. He went about enjoying his nightlife wholly unaware someone was watching. Because of this, he did things that were considered quite dangerous for a woman.
Many nights you found yourself alone in wooded areas. Well, âaloneâ.Â
During your casual stalking you found him to be quite pretty, in a sense. He walked smoothly, always had pressed and tailored suits. Slender fingers, wide shoulders, small waist. Fingers.
Many more nights you buried your face into your pillow and thought about his hands on you, his breath at your ear. His âShhh.â You couldnât replicate the feeling. No matter how you tried.
If all else failed, no juicy blackmail available, maybe just endear yourself to him. Bed him. Get the conquest done and let him go on with his little crime spree or whatever it was he was doing when you werenât watching. Because so far all youâve seen is a man who loves to dance and enjoys whiskey.Â
After another show done, body sore, you did your tour of the theatre. Tommy was snapping his fingers at you from the bar, his attempt to tell you to come over. Every day he seemed to become more and more brutish.
âWhat can I do for ya?â You tried to keep a bounce in your step, arches aching.Â
âI want you to meet someone.â Tommy turned to a small man at the bar, hair thinning and combed forward. You guessed in his sixties. âGive Mr. Wilson a warm welcome. Heâs one of your most generous benefactors.â
You nodded, smile slipping as you mind started to consider what was happening. You had heard some girls were taking dates, offering private shows, but you had been under the impression that was entirely of their own free will and desire. Had Tommy turned pimp? Your gaze flashed to Tommy, his stare cold, and then back to the man. âWell, thank you very much doll! Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Wilson.â Tommy saw someone walk by and followed, leaving you with the older man.Â
âYour dance was something else, sweetheart.â You nodded, his hand coming to rest on your hip. âI bet those hips do more than dancing.â
Leaning in, you rested your hand on the hand he set on your hip and whispered into his ear, âTouch me again without my permission,â you lifted his tie, a flirtatious move to anyone watching, âAnd the next time you see this tacky tie, youâll be shitting it out.â You patted his chest. âExcuse me, Iâll be right back.â
You pushed through the crowd and out of the front doors of the theatre. The air chillier tonight than past weeks. Looking around, you balled your fists. You wanted to hit something, break something.
Without any destination you tore off down the street, angrily huffing to yourself. You looked both ways to cross the intersection when you saw a familiar silhouette. A car honked, your hands coming up in apology as you finished crossing the street to follow Alastor.
Was your luck miraculous? Or malignant? You made it several blocks before a man stepped in front of you. You werenât listening, trying to look past him to see where Smiles was headed.
âWill you fuck off?!â You pushed him out the way only to have him pull you back by the arm. Before you could let out your frustration, a stranger walked up to you both.Â
âHands off, move along.â The stranger flashed his identification papers, making the offender leave quickly with his head down. âMiss you need to be careful out here. Thereâs been people missing from this ward. Pretty thing like you should be home.âÂ
Your mouth formed various shapes, no words fitting.
âDetective Brady.â He handed you a card.
I donât want this.
âSure, thanks.â You snatched it with two fingers and practically jogged away. No sign of him, no indication where Alastor went. Were there any forested areas? He often took strolls in shady parks but you couldnât remember any nearby. Turning around you realized how far youâd wandered from the fanfare and lights. The area was dark and deserted, not just Alastor but no one was around anymore. You stashed the card in your bra and rushed past an alley, giving up and deciding to just go home, when your ears caught the sound of dragging fabric on pavement.
Ice. Your blood chilled. Taking a few steps backwards, you turned to look into the darkened side street. You saw nothing, but heard a familiar wet sound.
Would it matter? Death?
You lifted your heels, walking on the balls of your feet to not make any sound as you approached the black shadow blanketing the majority of the side street.
A glimpse of brown leather shoes peeked into the light, soon your eyes adjusted as you too entered the inky darkness.
âI donât care for liars.â Alastor was in front of you before you could even shout from shock. You looked around him to see a crumpled body on the ground and a black car.
âIs there a problem?â His eyes scanned your face, his usual smile no longer so inviting but instead manic and wide. You donât know what possessed you, the adrenaline was flowing again and drowning out your more sensible thoughts.Â
Your eyes were locked on his golden brown stare, âOnly⌠if youâre quite attached to his wallet.â
He burst into laughter, wiping tears with the back of his bloodied glove. A small smear of blood was left behind on his cheek.
âI have no need for it.â He reached down and fished it out of the manâs pocket, âAnd neither does he!â
You caught it with both hands, âWell doesnât that make me the lucky lady of the evening.â
âDonât speak too soon. Iâm quite cross with you.â He gestured at you with the knife, âWe had a deal.â
In what could best be described as an out of body experience you watched yourself rush to his side and lift the manâs legs, âIn the trunk?â
Alastor stared at you, teeth showing as his smile grew, âIâve seen films less entertaining than you.â A stifled laugh as he lifted the man from under his arms and you both carried him to the car. You dropped the legs with a loud thud, Alastor gently setting the man down and opening the trunk.
A waxed canvas was lining the inside, âClever.â You hadnât meant to say it out loud. He hummed happily at the compliment and you sank your teeth into the reaction. Everyone wants something; power, money, sex, praise. Find the right combination and even the toughest hearts would swing open.Â
After he tossed the man, the knife, and the gloves into the back, you reached for his hand. âYour wife is going to be miffed. Blood is so difficult to get out of cotton.â You scratched at the bit of blood that had stained his cuff. âSpit works really well. But lemon juice and baking soda before any store bought cleaners will help.â
Alastor took his hand back, adjusting his sleeve to hide the red spot, âOh she has much bigger issues to deal with.â
Your mind raced. A chauvinist? Abuser? A weight settled into your stomach; disappointment. âIs that so?â
Giggling, he leaned against the bumper, one leg crossing in front of the other, âConsidering she doesnât exist, sheâs quite terrible at laundry. And I havenât eaten a meal in years.â A giggle devolving into a full chest laugh.Â
A terrible joke, you smacked his chest, âCruel! Unfunny!âÂ
âPerhaps I should eat you?â He leaned close.Â
âI hear Iâm quite sweet.â You smirked, heart pounding in your chest with such force you were rocking slightly with each pulse.
Alastor felt his blood pressure rising. He should kill you. Just to be safe. Butâ- oh, this was so fun. You hid any fear you were feeling perfectly. He could be forgiven to think he was staring into a mirror. If he met himself in an alley, well, he would feel quite safe. Perhaps you weâre of a similar inclination?
He watched your throat as you gulped. You licked your thumb and wiped at his cheek, âYou always make a mess, hun.â
Alastor felt the world spin as you then dragged your blood stained thumb over your lips, red lipstick smearing with it. âSweet eno-,â he swallowed your words, hand coming to your neck and pulling you into the kiss. No patience, his tongue swiped over your mouth and plunged in at the smallest parting.Â
Your mind was screaming, finally, yes.Â
His tongue as soft as his hands rolled over your own, every time your mouths pulled away and drew back together was thinning your frontal cortex. Alastor could taste the faint metallic tinge of the manâs blood on your mouth, and he found his sleeping libido shiver awake. Always a fan of kissing, he now found his mind wandering to other parts of your body, other acts of affection, as he felt youâd call them.
No time. He pulled away, âAgainst the wall.â
You practically threw yourself into the bricks. Alastor pulled a gas tin from the trunk and began dousing the street. You frowned, body relaxing.
âYouâre taking the food metaphor too far. Fire? Really?â You took a second to realize there was no odor.
A laugh in threes, âWater, dear.â You watched the blood thin and begin snaking down to the gutter. He set the can in the trunk and closed the hatch. After opening the drivers door he turned to you, âDo you trust me to drive you home?â
âHonestly, no.â
âThatâs why I like you,â a wink. âWear comfortable shoes tomorrow.â He flashed a smile, pushing his glasses up. Before you could question him he hopped into the car and drove off out of the back of the side street.
Alastor found himself singing a little louder as he drove home. A thrilling evening becoming somehow more exciting. He realized that always seemed to happen when you stumbled into his plans. Still annoyed you had followed him, his thoughts shifted to possibilities. A kindred spirit could make things easier. More fun. Safer. But who were you? Much like himself you wore a mask. He could see it clearly as it always began to slip in his presence.Â
He pulled his car behind his home, backed up against a large greenhouse. Still in the idling vehicle, his fingers came to his lips. What a peculiar creature you were. Killing the lights and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, he considered what to do. The possibilities kept coming in waves. But he stopped himself, never one to live in fantasy. Helping toss a dead man into a car wasnât the same as killing. Yes, you showed no outward concerns, but he couldnât be sure you wouldnât turn tail the second things got more intense.Â
He always took his time, sensing out those who were good candidates. The abhorrent, the abusers, the cruel. There was something so satisfying, deep in his gut, to watch a person with power over others cower in fear. The same eyes that relished in the pain they gave to those under their thumb shaking in realization the were now the prey. Begging for mercy they didnât afford others. Alastor sighed. He remembered your pained sob in the park, frustration and disappointment at his lack of reaction. Eyes fluttering closed, if you had gotten in the car youâd not be disappointed in him now.Â
A deeper sigh. But you didnât. Which was wise. He thought better of you for it. Opening his eyes and leaving the car, he went to the trunk to begin his work.
You couldnât sleep. Not because of the dead man, you were getting used to that. It was the lack of information. Comfortable shoes? For what? He didnât give you a time or place to meet.
Tomorrow was Sunday, you realized. Ah, the bar. That was the only place that would make sense.Â
Sundays were big nights for your theatre, but you werenât needed unless a girl was sick. You simply werenât at that level of fame for your little company and this was fine for you suddenly. You spent your Sunday pacing your small one room apartment and changing shoes.
What did Alastor have planned? With the little you knew about him it a could be a capital crime or a walk in the park. You genuinely couldnât imagine and it was exciting. A normal man asking youâ- was this a date? Was it presumptive to call it a date? You couldnât quite see Alastor dating. You let the question go. Most men would take you for a movie and perhaps a chaste kiss at the door of a cab. With Alastor it could be literally anything. How do you dress for anything?Â
Your friend teased you, arriving early to her bar and chewing on your lip.Â
âSo, either you suddenly wanna look nice for my dive, or youâre expecting someone.â She was wiping down the counter.
âI adore your customers, Betty.â You hopped from the seat, needing to reapply your lipstick.
Your singing voice was strained, nerves keeping you tense. Looking into the modest crowd you couldnât find him. A cornflower yellow dress, a little too tight around your waist but you didnât let that stop you. The collar a loose and folding slit from shoulder to shoulder, you were positively cute, he decided. Leaning at the bar he couldnât see your face, but under the small lights you were glowing nonetheless. A little ball of pride rose in his gut, noticing you clearly had put more care into your appearance tonight than most Sundays.Â
Truth was he had enjoyed a whiskey and your songs for several months now, always at the seat closest to the door, out of sight and out of mind. His favorite of your casual dive bar digs were the trousers you occasionally wore. You looked so sharp.
When your set was done, you tried to be gracious as you left the pianoâs side. Alastor watched you from his seat, letting your face light up once again when you recognized him. He gave a noticeable look to your shoes.Â
âThose will do.âÂ
âDo what?âÂ
âYou,â he leaned against the bar, âowe me a drink. And alcohol always pairs well with dance.â
Maybe a date, you thought. You offered him your arm, âLead the way.â
As you walked, arm in arm, you found yourself not needing to speak much. His arm was so solid in yours. You felt like everyone was looking, the handsome man and the pretty young thing. Did you two look sweet? Like the cleanest cut kids in the neighborhood? Did you look like the kind of people who sat in pews once a week and clasped hands over dinner?
Did you look like the sort to toss bodies in cars? No, decidedly not. And it made you feel powerful. What a perfect act. The feeling of looking nothing like what you were was akin to the addicting rush of your cat and mouse game with most men.Â
âDo you like those group dances? Like the Big Apple?â Alastor asked as he opened the doors for you.Â
âNot particularlyâŚâ
âPerfect, neither do I.â He laughed.Â
A small table in a small nook of a booth lining the small dance floor. You clinked your glasses together, no toast necessary, and watched the couples swing around the room. As the 20âs were fading from the rear view, you all hoped dance would be less stigmatized. But part of the fun was how scandalous it was.Â
âHow was your day? Made it home safe and sound?â Alastor crossed his legs and leaned into the plush booth seat.Â
Oh, this was going to be⌠normal? You choked a little on your drink, surprised. âHonestly?â
âAlways.â
âI sat in my apartment changing my shoes repeatedly.â
Alastorâs laugh was loud and sharp, but you didnât find it obnoxious. You liked it.
âThat wasnât my intention. I just didnât want to risk you being unable to dance.â
You rolled your eyes, taking a slow sip with your gaze on the dancers, âYa know how to avoid that? Tell me to wear shoes for dancing.â
A snicker, âPerhaps Iâm not quite as skilled with talking to women as I like to think.â
âThen talk to me like a man.â Your glass made a thud as it hit the table. Alastorâs eyes widened as they always did when you said something wildly amusing to him.
âHmm, I donât talk much to men.â He thought, âNot for long conversations, that is.â Your mind conjured up the two dead men. âI never asked your name. Is it too late now?â
âYou saw it on the posters. Autumn.â
Alastor smirked, âAutumn Hind is not your real name. That is clearly a stage name.â
Swirling your drink in its crystal, you smiled, âItâs a good one though, you have to admit.â His brow cocked, not understanding. âHind, a doe. And what do does do in the fall?â Your own brows rose suggestively.Â
Alastor hit the table, âA deer pun?! Oh darling, weâre going to be fast friends.â He offered you his glass for another wordless toast.
âI thought it was pretty funny, for a burlesque dancer no less. A horny little deer prancing on stage. Better than Allie Way and Frosti Winters.â You grinned into the glass, proud of yourself.
You could see Alastor physically relax beside you, dancers moving about in front of you both.Â
âAnd yours? Your day, that is.â
He hummed, âI slept late, stayed up late. Took care of our newly penniless friend.âÂ
You wanted to ask more, what did you do with him? Can I come next time? Is there a pool of gators somewhere eating well today?
He leaned in to you, âMay I have this dance?â
Your smile was uncontained, all desire to control your outward appearance was lost in the fun of dancing with your newest partner. Was there anyone else in the room with you anymore? Who knows. The music kept playing and that was all you needed.Â
Alastor was a marvelous dancer, you noticed other women glancing his way, eye lashes fluttering but ignored as he focused on the movements. This was how you managed to not-stalk him so well, he was completely unaware of the interested gazes of those around him.
While he didnât notice the individual stares, Alastor could feel the attention on him and it made his chest puff. He loved it, how he could feed an image to the masses and be seen as he saw fit. It was something you both had in common, even if neither of you had strong enough egos to vocalize it yet.
When the music wound down, a slow number for the lovers, you hadnât expected Alastor to stay on the dance floor. A slow dance, one arm on your hip, hand in hand.Â
Now close, you felt you could speak without risk of others eavesdropping.Â
âWhy did you invite me out? I have a distinct memory of you saying you had very little affection or time.â You were shorter than him, your shoes not very tall, so you had to speak up and at his neck.
âA man who says he has no time is a man unwilling to make any.â Alastor led you in a small sway along the floor.
âOh so you just didnât see me worth the effort before.â You said it half teasingly, half seriously.
He looked down now, eyes meeting yours again, âThat was before I knew how entertaining you could be.â
You pouted, entertaining was not the word you wanted to hear. Enthralling, Enchanting, Endearing.Â
âThereâs that face again. What ever could it mean.â Alastorâs head cocked to the side.
âIâm entertaining at work. You donât need to take me out to enjoy my entertainment value.âÂ
He laughed again, making you glare, âDarling, being entertaining is high praise. And youâre not entertaining at work. Youâre bewitching.â He pulled you a little closer, âThe way you make those men act a fool. Truly a sight. You wield a power many women just dabble in.â
You shimmied a little against his chest, âWell if weâre giving out complimentsâŚâ you remembered the satisfying hum from last night, âThe canvas was clever, but the water in the cans was brilliant. Nothing suspicious about a little petrol in the trunk.â
His grin widened. âAnd your precision. One cut and that brute was down. It was remarkable.â The hand holding your waist began to tighten. It egged you on, whether he intended it to or not, âI can appreciate the way you carry yourself.â Your freehand ran across his vest, suit jacket left at the table, âI wish I could see more.â
Your chest pressed against his, trapping your hand. âOoh, you are observant, little one. Why did you agree to come out? Still chasing my,â his hips pressed against yours, hand sliding down slightly to hold you close, âaffection?â
Fingers playing with his buttons, âHmm, debilitating fascination and your affection. Do you have any to spare?â You smiled sweetly up at him.
Your mouths were on each other before the bathroom door closed behind you. Alastor locking it without looking, one hand staying on your neck. The small room was just a single toilet and a bathroom cabinet with a built in sink. Little tulip shaped light sconces above the mirror made the room brighter than the dance hall. Your nails lightly grazed his scalp, him humming in return. His body was pressing yours against the wall, despite his thin frame he had a power to him. Hands on your hips, holding you firmly in place. Your hips tried to roll against his anyway.
âIs it praise? Iâll sing your song until Iâm blue in the face, until my lungs give out just tell me what you need.â You whined.Â
His head shook softly, thumb pulling down on your chin to open your mouth. âIt isnât that simple. Itâs not something you can say.âÂ
His tongue swiped over your own, neither in your mouths. He tasted like whiskey, bitter and fragrant. Your eyes fluttered shut, feeling his body against yours. You were vibrating; the way you always did when he was near you.
Kissing, tongues, body presses. You were tangled together.
âThis isn't⌠doing anything?â You asked, his lips coming to your neck. Sighing, your hand gripped his hair weakly. âThat feels good.â
He shook his head into your skin, âI donât see any desire to carry it further. But I enjoy it for what it is. And you seem to enjoy it. Is that enough for you?â
You wanted to scream, to argue, but as he pulled away and you stared up into his sharp honey brown eyes, you felt helpless to deny him anything. Did you need sex? Really? Itâd been three months now without it and you were only recently clawing at the sheets with thoughts of Alastor. Being in his mouth was better than being strangers. Sliding fingers back into his hair and drawing him closer, your leg came up and hooked on his hip.
Alastor pulled you both from the wall and turned you, pressing your body into the sink. You were staring at your reflection, Alastorâs eyes meeting yours in the mirror, âIâm happy to do many things for you⌠just not exactly what youâre asking for; not right now. Not in this tiny dance hall bathroom.âÂ
His hand snaked up your chest and lightly held your neck, you fought back a moan.
âWell, if itâs good enough for your wifeâŚ.âÂ
He laughed into your skin, other hand slipping down the front of your dress and cupping your crotch. âIâve heard no complaints.â The way he anchored you, arms twisted and firm around such vital parts of you, made your whole body relax into his arms. A parachute safely secured around you as you fell. Mouth to your ear, hot and warm breath, âTurn around.â
Head spinning, you turned in his arms. Alastor lifted you up and onto the countertop of the sink, lips crashing back into yours.
The sound of music shook the thin walls of the room, heart erratic in your chest. His fingers slid up both thighs slowly, a familiar feeling for you now. His hands your favorite dance partner.Â
His eyes didnât leave yours as he dropped to his knees, your legs closing in embarrassment before he slid his hands between them.Â
âDid you ask for more affection, dear?â He pushed your dress up around your waist, two fingers pulling the fabric of your panties to the side. You wanted to rip them off, damning your garters. You felt feverish as you watched him bury his face into your pussy. Your wetness was evident by how easily he glided through your folds. One hand gripped the counter, the other combing through his chestnut hair. Alastor kept his eyes on you, reading your face as he moved his tongue over your heat.
Mind racing for something clever to say, you opened your mouth but just gasped out his name as he sucked gently at your clit. One of your short heeled shoes you stressed over fell off as your knees came up around his head.
You were confident you made the right answer. With the music thumping along you didnât feel any need to keep yourself quiet.
Your breathy moans and little hip rolls into his mouth made Alastor smile against your skin. He had learned many ways to keep people satiated.Â
With a struggle, you opened your legs again allowing his tongue to drop down and into you. Nose rutting against your sensitive clit with every movement of his tongue in and out.Â
A pounding on the door made you jump.Â
âPeople are waiting!â Someone yelled.
Alastor pushed his tongue deeper, wriggling up and down against your twitching walls. Your head fell forward, âAlastor-,â you choked.
He buried his nose into your muff, eyes closing.
The door knob rattled, âHello!â
âAlastor.â
So warm. Your body was so warm on his face. Your smell was making him feel feral. Gluttony. The way you were twitching and heaving under his tongue, groaning his name. Had he ever felt so powerful while on his knees? Had he ever enjoyed someone elseâs body in such a bloodless way? No. Decidedly not.
âWeâre gonna get the key!â The man at the door said.
âOkay, okay, affection received.â You patted his head, pushing him away by his forehead. âDonât need to end the night in a paddy wagon.â
Alastorâs tongue was still out, eyes glossy as he looked up at you.
For the briefest second you considered wrapping your thighs back around his head and waiting for the key.
You hopped off, grabbing your shoe and leaning to get it back on. Crouching down you kissed Alastorâs nose and wiped his chin clean with your handkerchief before pushing it into his shirt pocket. âUp, up!â Hand in hand you barreled out of the door before the staff could see you and rushed to the furthest corner of the hall.
When you stopped and looked back you saw a staff member looking around annoyed, a man putting his hands up and entering the bathroom with a huff.
Before you could say anything, compliment or scolding, a woman was in front of Alastor. Your hand slid from his naturally.Â
âI am so sorry. Are you the host of that jazz show?â The woman had her hands in front of her, nervously twisting the handle of her purse, âSorry if youâre not! You just look like the description, tall⌠handsome⌠cute glasses.â
You turned around, partly acting like you didnât know him at all and partly hiding the way your face twisted. Unsure what exactly you two were doing, you didnât want to create hassle for either of you. Alastor laughed, âThe very same! Alastor, itâs a pleasure to meet you.â With your back turned you couldnât see the womanâs face, but she made a barely audible squeak.Â
While you were eavesdropping, a man offered you his arm. Your hand slipped to Alastorâs back, giving him a touch as you slid into the strangers arms for a dance.
He turned around to see you hit the floor and smiled, returning to the fan before him. After a few more compliments about his voice and his appearance, the woman shrunk a little, âAre you free tonight? I donât have an escort homeâŚâ
A hum, soft smile, âAh, I would love to see a fan safely home. But, alas, I am here with someone.â
What an easy excuse. It was nice to not need to lie.
âI seeâŚ. Oh, uh, your glasses⌠here, theyâre a little smudged,â she offered him her handkerchief but he declined, pulling yours from his pocket.
âDanced too hard?â She chuckled, trying to elongate the conversation.
Alastor hummed, fogging the glasses before wiping them clear. âEating, actually.â
âOh youâre a messy eater, huh?â
âSo Iâve been told.â He folded the square into a triangle and returned it to his pocket.
âWhat a⌠delicate handkerchief.â She looked at the soft yellow fabric and saw your yellow dress twirling behind him. âAh. WellâŚ.It was a pleasure to meet you.â The woman sheepishly excused herself, letting him watch you dance around the floor with the stranger.
Heâd never so explicitly told anyone his proclivities as he had done with you. Growing up he learned quickly his interests misaligned with other young men, but he didnât really understand it well enough until he entered his early 20s and had to learn skills his peers didnât. A man can only turn down so many offers for sex before people begin to question him. Certain rumors could be downright dangerous.Â
Your eyes kept returning to him, your smile meeting you eyes as you twirled.Â
While he had bed a number of partners, it was more often than not the result of physical reactions and what felt like necessity. The few times he genuinely felt he could enjoy in indulging in carnal pleasures he found himself utterly alone. He enjoyed dating, necking, kissing, but he could only keep some people so happy for so long. Quite a few women assumed marriage would solve the issue, and pushed him. Which made the inevitable break up easier.Â
His reputation was that of a rake now. The popular host who rarely dates but often canoodles.
He laughed to himself, if rumors spread of his recent antics with you heâd be practically blacklisted from certain clubs. Alastor watched you graciously leave your dance partner and hop up to him. If he were any other man, youâd throw your arms around him and make him swoon for you. But he was Alastor. Your confusingly respectful killer. So you stopped yourself, instead offering him a smile.
âI wasnât aware you were a radio host.â
âYou never did ask my job.â You both walked back to the table where his jacket was lying in the booth seat.
âHonestly did not care. Which is unusual for me. Normally my first question to men is what they do for work.â You tried to avoid looking at the bathroom before settling back into your seat beside him.
He lifted his hand and gestured for another round, âShould I be flattered or insulted?â
âOh definitely flattered. There were much more interesting aspects to you.â There was a little space between you, a foot or so of emptiness.Â
You scooted closer, Alastor glancing to you before shifting his legs and closing the last few inches of distance. Thigh touching thigh, you sat silently while your drinks were poured and brought to your table.Â
âTo sinning,â you offered a real toast, Alastor laughing his signature laugh and raising his glass.
âTo sinning!â
His hand came to rest on yours, both settled on your lap under the table. Your cheeks were hurting, desperately trying to keep your smile looking demure and not stupid-school-girl-in-love. His fingers folded into yours, and you entirely lost the plot, face melting into a lovesick grin.
Alastor leaned into you, âAre you alright? Liquor already gone to your head?â
You squeezed his hand, âDifferent kind of intoxication, doll.â
The evening was, in a word, divine. You danced with reckless abandon and enjoyed various degrees of affection. You were surprised to see Alastor so open, you had pegged him as less wanting to draw attention to himself. But no, he clearly relished in making heads turn.
He offered you a ride, and this time you took it. You didnât live far, you just wanted a little more time. When he stopped the car, you jokingly turned around and looked into the trunk.Â
âWeâre very alone.â You mused. He hummed an agreement, getting out of the car and opening your door. âWow and a gentleman.â
âA testament to my mother. If youâre comfortable, give me a wave from the window when you get in.â He closed your door behind you.Â
âI donât mind if you know where I live, youâll have easier opportunities to kill me, Iâm sure of it.â Placing two hands on his chest, you leaned up, âIs a good night kiss too forward?â
Alastor stifled a laugh, âQuite! My image of you is shattered.â before leaning down to meet your lips.
When in the apartment you turned on a light and went straight to the window. Leaning against his car with both hands in his pockets, Alastor was smiling up at you. With a wave from you, he got back into his car and left.
To say you were on cloud nine would be an understatement. Clouds couldnât carry the weight of your joy. Youâd fall to the ground like lead, regardless of the cloud classification. And with that feeling you went to bed smiling, unaware of the dark catalyst barreling towards you.
ŕźťMasterlistŕźş
â° Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):
@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,
@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinskaâ¨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows
ADIF @multifandomfanatic02 ,
đšAlastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions
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the sweetest sin of all
aaron hotchner x feb!bau!reader ||
summary: in the midst of investigating a serial killer who chooses victims based on the seven deadly sins, aaron hotchner finds himself entangled in more than just the case (inspired by hozier's new song 'too sweet'):
word count: 3.4k
warnings: heavy tension, hurt comfort, crossing professional boundaries and general talks of CM violence and murder (nothing graphic):
a/n: hi! i wrote this entire thing for a friend, but maybe you might enjoy it too! this is my first piece of writing on this new blog so if you like feel free to like, reblog or even just let me know! and hopefully if it goes well there'll be more soon!
a/n update: it went well, here's part two!)
From the dim lighting of the office it was almost impossible to tell the exact lateness of the night. His watch consistently ticking, remained a steady rhythm. He ran a hand across his face, his tie undone and lying, long discarded on his desk. The first few buttons of his shirt undone, unbuttoned and an almost vulnerable step away from his usual armour. Papers containing violence were spread haphazardly and with chaos across his desk. A nearly forgotten glass of strong neat whiskey sat in place of his usual bitter coffee.
His team had been on the case for nearly a week, and Hotch felt they were no closer to catching the Unsub. The whole team was feeling the pressure. The profile told him they were dealing with a moral enforcer, a highly organised, violent offender with a clear mission. It should have been easy for them but bodies seemed to be continuously appearing and everyone was feeling uneasy and frustrated.
He was drowning in the details of this case, the Unsub's pattern ever-present in his mind. He thought of the remaining sins - envy, wrath, and lust - and something burned deep within his chest. It was a dangerous game they played, one where the stakes were higher than any case he'd ever worked on.
Being head of the team he felt the responsibility more vehemently than the rest, and he was doing something heâd promised the team he wouldnât. He was letting it get to him.
Thereâd been four victims so far, each killed to match one of the seven deadly sins. So far his victims had been; gluttony - an overzealous upscale restaurant critic who binged food that he slated publicly, greed - a high-profile stock broker with the inability to control his obsession with obtaining more of his client's money, sloth - a wealthy trust fund baby who squandered their university scholarship out of laziness and pride - a wealthy woman with a shopping addiction who frequented beauty salons and had an intense social media presence flaunting herself.
Each victim came from a different geographical area of the city and Garcia hadnât been able to uncover any crossover between their lives where it might have been somewhere they could have met the Unsub. There were no leads and the team felt at a loss.Â
Knowing the Unsub was three victims away from the end of his mission, Hotch knew they were close to losing him if they didnât catch a break soon. Heâd sent the team home to get some sleep and told them to be ready bright and early the next day. Yet Hotch couldn't bring himself to leave the office, hoping the crime scene photos might uncover something he'd missed. He thought everyone had listened to his orders until he was drawn away from the graphic images in front of him by a gentle knock at the door.
"Come in." He croaked harshly, the hours of not speaking catching up to his vocal chords.
It was her. Of course, it was her.
She always had a way of pulling him from the edge, of grounding him when the world became too much. In the chaos and uncertainty of their work, she was his constant, his unwavering beacon of light. She was his solace, his calm in the storm, and in that moment, he allowed himself to get lost in her.
She was like honey, dripping out and pooling where flies could get stuck on the intoxication and drown. He could feel it, the danger she could be. If heâd been a man less controlled he could see how she could be his every downfall and triumph. In her, he saw a reflection of all his desires and fears. She was every strength and weakness. In the moment, he couldn't help but want to drown in the intoxicating allure of her, his deadly and dangerous, yet irresistibly sweet sin.
âIâm heading home for the nightâŚâ Her voice trailed off in a quiet hush to match the silence of the office.Â
The creases in his forehead from pouring over crime scenes and endless theories seemed to smooth out. He breathed out hours' worth of tension in a single breath, allowing the corners of his mouth to turn upwards so quickly that unless sheâd been a profiler paying attention she might not have noticed. The way his body language shifted was subtle enough to the untrained eye, but not to her. He couldnât conceal himself in his controlled, cold-edged front as well as he usually could when she was around.
"I gave those orders hours ago." He mused, leaning back in his chair, the breath of a sigh dying on his lips.
She gently shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her. "I thought you might be used to me defying your orders by now, Hotch. You should take your own advice, didnât you promise to stop working so late," she replied, a glint in her eyes that held an irresistible challenge. Their playful banter was a welcome change from the dark seriousness that heâd been so consumed by moments ago.
She smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief waiting for his retort.
"I didnât promise anything." He huffed.
She didnât wait for an invitation, she didnât need to. Crossing the threshold of his office and making her way to the imposing desk of the Unit Chief.
Sheâd not seen her boss look so troubled by a case in a long time. Her gaze was drawn to him as his elbows leaned against the desk, his usually impeccable suit dishevelled. She noted the way the top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a hint of the man beneath the stoic FBI Unit Chief. It was a stark contrast to the man who was always put together, always in control. Yet, in that moment, he looked anything but. Not yet unravelled, but on the edge of it.
She moved further into the office, she was not someone who second-guessed her decisions. She walked with confidence, and perched herself on the edge of his desk, letting her legs dangle over the edge her black work trousers tight across her thighs. She rested her hand on the desk, dangerously close to her Hotchâs, mere centimetres.
His gaze shifted from the papers in front of him and followed the contours of her face, lingering a moment too long on her lips. He swallowed hard, his mind flickering with thoughts he'd held at bay for far too long. But he was Unit Chief, and professionalism might as well have been his middle name. He lightly shook his head, feeling the back of his eyes burn from the focus heâd had all day.
Hotch wasnât one to open up, he was always controlled but around her, there was a tug at the stitches of his personality.
âI have a bad feeling about this case.â He hummed, the night breeze catching against the window. He could smell her perfume, mixing with the scent of burnt coffee and paper. He dare not think about it too long.
He reached across his desk and grabbed his near-forgotten whiskey, downing it in one drag. He bent towards where her legs were hanging over his desk, motioning for her to lift them. She drew them up towards her chest and he opened the drawer beneath her pulling an expensive-looking bottle from it and refilling the glass, this time handing it to her. Their fingers grazed slightly with the exchange. His warm, hers icy cold - meeting to form the perfect temperature.
âWe have no leads. I always trust the profile, but this case⌠Weâve got nothing.â His eyes watched her as she swirled the liquid around the glass, her eyes watching it splash against the sides. He sighed in defeat, rubbing his eyes with both of his hands before leaning his head back, a deep exhale exiting his thin lips.
âWeâll get him.â She said confidently, something shifted in her tone. It was like a dagger's sharp edge, certainty dripping off it like blood. He almost believed her, but she could see the already dim light dissipating from his dark eyes. She felt sympathy pooling in the tips of her fingers. If she didnât hadnât been holding their shared glass she might have reached out and touched him so that it could bleed from her into him, so that he would feel less alone.
She leaned back slightly, her eyes searching his. It was unclear what she was searching for in them. He couldnât read her entirely, even with all his years of profiling. When she smiled, he felt his heart catch in his throat. It was like looking directly at the sun. Burning and bright hot.
âYou should follow your own orders⌠And for once so should I. Go home. Get some rest.â She downed the liquid with a swift tip of her head. Hotch watched the curve of her neck as she moved and the way she licked her lips catching a fallen drop of liquor. She laid the glass down on the desk, allowing her hand to brush over his. His skin crackled with electricity.
She moved with grace as she climbed down from his desk. That one moment shared more intimate than sheâd expected it to feel, with their proximity, the lateness of the hour and the unusually undone Aaron sitting at his desk.
His eyes followed her every movement, skin stinging as if heâd been burned. She was halfway to the door before he heard himself call out to her. It almost didnât sound like his own voice.
âWait. Donât go yet. Come here.â His voice was firm like it always was, but there was a depth to it that she hadnât heard before. One sheâd always longed for. His eyes glinted with dark hues as he watched her turn from the door. He almost breathed out in relief.
She had an unreadable expression. One that set the blood in his veins on fire. She lowered her head, and with it, her eyes darkened. He stood from his desk, making his way over to her with steps that felt dreamlike. Their eyes met with an energy never shared before and once in front of her he reached out, gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear so that he had an unobscured view of her whole face. The same face that had the power to completely undo him.
Her eyes widened slightly as if surprised by his gentle touch, but at the same time, there was a knowing in them as if sheâd been waiting for it all along. She remained still, and his heart pounded in his chest as he looked into his eyes, an unspoken conversation passing between them. It felt like any words would have made the moment less intimate.
His hand lingered against her cheek, the warmth radiating from his touch was a stark contrast to the cold, sterile environment of his office. Her skin felt like it was burning under him. The silence between them was palpable, filled with the yet unspoken words and emotions that threatened to bubble to the surface. Hotch, usually so controlled in his feelings suddenly felt so unsteady. His heart beat suspiciously with the feeling that perhaps heâd crossed a line.
âHow do you know?â He whispered, eyes scanning hers as if he were a detective trying to uncover the evidence that gave her certainty. In the light of the office, she looked like sheâd been hand carved, art that heâd been lucky enough to be in the presence of. He traced his thumb over her lips, eyes heavy with a mixture of desire and something else she couldn't quite place. It was a dangerous gesture, one that could endanger his whole career.
'I trust you, and thatâs all I need to know that weâll get him.' she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, eyes glazed with a devotion that almost made him groan. The conviction of her words pierced his wavering confidence. Heâd gone from feeling almost hopeless to buzzing with determination.
He let his hand fall away from her face, but the warmth lingered, an almost promise that what sheâd been sure sheâd felt moments ago had indeed been real. Reality swarmed his brain, aware of the situation heâd almost found himself in. He straightened up, posture contrasting his relatively dishevelled exterior.
"Youâre right, you should follow my orders. Go home, get some rest. I told the team weâd start fresh in the morning," he instructed, a softness in his voice that was rarely displayed. But she didnât move, and he didnât either.
He watched her eyes for any sign of discomfort, the tension in the room was palpable, an electrifying current that Hotch didnât dare to break. Silence blanketed them, only broken by the ticking of his watch. It was a solitary reminder of the passing time, yet the urgency of their case had fallen to the back of his mind.
âClose the door.â She instructed, using the same authority that Hotch usually spoke with. The change in dynamic almost made him falter, but with a small smirk, he moved towards the door. Heâd been aware of the power imbalance he held in his position but with the tone of her voice, there was a subtle shift in the air between them. She moved back towards his desk with certainty. Moving his name tag so she could perch to face the dark space of the office.
Their eyes met across the room. She tilted her head to the side, examining his body language. As he locked the door behind him, the air seemed to constrict around them, the room becoming a world of its own where only they existed. The only sound in the room was the soft click of the lock and their breathing. It echoed throughout the office, bouncing off the walls and settling into their bones. The tension escalated, but it was different now, charged with an anticipation that neither of them could ignore.
He might have been unit chief, but right here, right now, she was in charge. The line between professional and personal blurred dangerously as their eyes locked, a promise of something more hanging in the balance. The air was charged now, they were poised, daring each other to make the first move. They both knew that they were on the precipice of something dangerous, something that could have dire consequences professionally.
Yet, the pull was too strong to ignore, and for the first time, Hotch allowed himself to teeter on the edge, his resolve tested by the powerful undercurrent of desire that crackled between them. Tonight, they were not just colleagues, they were two individuals drawn together by an irresistible force. In the room, the undeniable chemistry that had been simmering under the surface for far too long had nowhere to hide.
On the desk, she rested each hand palm down to the side of her thighs and opened her legs wider to create space for his body to fit. She moved her head in a motion for him to step forward. Hotch couldnât think, couldnât breathe, pupils were blown wide from more than just the darkness of the room. How long had he craved something so forbidden, how long had he denied himself the idea that this could ever happen?
As he moved closer to her, he couldn't help but think about the deadly sin of lust, a strong passion or longing that was deemed sinful. Here he was, teetering on the edge of crossing professional boundaries, something heâd never done. The balance of energy in the room was no longer solely from the stress of the case, it was about them - about her. He could have tried to argue that it was, but no jury in the state would believe him. If this were a trial, he was about to be found guilty.
The Unsub's deadly pattern echoed in his mind - the three sins heâd yet to kill for; envy, jealousy over another's life or possessions, wrath, a violent anger driven by hatred, and finally, lust, a powerful desire that can become all-consuming, much like the craving he was experiencing in that very moment. Looking upon her he felt envious of anyone who had ever been allowed to touch her, he felt wrath for anyone who had ever wronged or hurt her, and most of all he felt lust. He definitely felt lust, his desire for her taking over all his senses.
Was he caught between duty and desire? No, he had no doubt in his mind. The sheer intensity of her shared gaze and the way she was beckoning him forward smashed the boundaries of their relationship. Heâd never seen her in this light, never dared to allow himself to think of her like this. But now she was in front of him how could he ever deny himself something so sweet?
Hotch had always been a man of control, a man who kept his emotions in check. But in this room, with the charged atmosphere heavy between them, he felt his resolve wavering. He was caught in the powerful current of the desire for her that heâd managed to keep at bay. He didnât want to be in control anymore.Â
He closed the distance between them, fitting himself between her legs, his hands landing on her hips as he looked down at her, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
She brought one hand off the desk to hold the waistband of his suit trousers, tugging lightly.
âAre you finally going to kiss me, Agent Hotchner?â She asked, voice dripping with honey. Sweetness laced with danger that hit him right in the chest like a bullet.
She was an intoxicating mix of all seven, a deadly sin in her own right. She was his lust, his unending desire. She was his gluttony, the one he wanted to consume endlessly. She was his greed, the one he wanted all for himself. She was his sloth, his reason for inertia. She was his wrath, the one who could ignite a fire in him like no other. She was his envy, the one he admired and coveted. And she was his pride, the one who made him feel like he was on top of the world.
âYou will be the ruin of me.â He breathed, his eyes almost black. He looked down at her taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and the way her eyes sparkled with a mixture of mischief and satisfaction. He was entirely wrapped around her finger. Tonight, he decided, he would willingly drown in this sweet sin, consequences be damned.
âThat is entirely my intention.â She chuckled and he groaned, a guttural sound that felt foreign to him.
"Only if you promise not to tell the team," he murmured, a playful undertone to his voice.
As he leaned down to capture her lips with his, he knew without a doubt that this was a deadly sin he was willing to commit. It was both sweet and intense, a perfect reflection of their now complicated relationship.
Her lips tasted of the whiskey they'd shared, sweet with a hint of burn that left him wanting more. She tasted like a curse, sickeningly sweet as if to cause him decay. He deepened the kiss, pulling her impossibly closer. He was standing on the cliff of the unknown, and he was more than willing to jump and fall headfirst.
As he pulled away, he couldn't help but study her face. Heâd come face to face with endless serial killers, and been in the presence of pure evil. But heâd never been so close to something so dangerous. She was a temptation he couldn't resist. Sweeter than any apple in the Garden of Eden. He traced the contours of her face with his fingers, his gaze never leaving hers.
He could still taste her on the back of his tongue, sugar and shared whiskey burning. Heâd never been so certain that heâd been willing to trade his control for the intoxicating sweetness that was her. She was a forbidden fruit that was too alluring to resist, and Aaron Hotchner had no more resistance left in him. Not now heâd tasted something so delicious.
After all, wasn't life about balancing the deadly sins and virtues? Tonight, he chose to sin.
(you can now read part two here!)
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Your First Time
Prompt: You confide to Killer that you're a virgin and want to be prepared for Kid.
NSFW
Kid X Fem Reader X Killer
You had been on the Victoria Punk for a couple weeks now, had gotten the routine of how everyone works and how everything moves. It felt comforting being some place with a consistent schedule, even if it was filled with eccentric people, you now called your friends. Although you couldnât ignore something forever, your Captain, the one who had convinced you to come aboard by practically dragging you on, kept trying to get you alone.
        Itâs not that you didnât enjoy it, and Kid was certainly public about his intentions, slapping your ass as you walk by, pulling you on his lap if he so desires, and the make-out sessions were great. But you started to overthink on one particular night when he had a grip on your hips while he was grinding his hard on into you while biting at your neck. It wasnât the fact that you were in front of everyone, no one seemed to care over the public display. You had felt embarrassed when a moan escaped your lips, putting a hand to your mouth while your face turned red, but Kid had grabbed your wrist grunting that he wanted to hear you.
        The real problem wasnât the location, your head wasnât reeling at what was happening around you. Despite being open to try things, and never denying Kid, you had always wiggled your way out of his grasp before it got any farther. Kid would clearly be annoyed, but wouldnât push you, and it started gnawing at your mind.
        So you decided to go to Killer, the right hand man of Kid, and another conquest Kid had made clear was his. You woke up extra early, knowing no one else would be up to bother the conversation you were about to pull the first mate in too. Closing the door behind you as you hear the clinking of pots.
        Killer glances over his shoulder, âY/N, youâre up early.â His low deep voice making your heart flutter a little bit. You sit as close to him as possible without being in his work space, watching him move about the kitchen before setting a cup of coffee and a muffin in front of you, âAny reason for this visit?â He leans against the counter, crossing his arm while peering down at you through his mask.
        You let out a noise as you try to find the words in your mind, deciding to take a sip of coffee to ignore the question for juts a couple more seconds. The hot liquid practically burning your tongue as the two of you sit in silence. Killer doesnât pressure you, nor does he move to continue what he was doing, He waits patiently while seeing you dance the cup between your hands before you hang your head down letting a sigh out, âItâs about Kid.â
        Killer perks up at your quiet admission. Before he could ask anything, you continue, âOr rather itâs about me.â Your face turning red as he watches you stare at the steam. You brush a strand of hair behind your ear, still refusing to look at him, âIâm uh. Iâm not experienced.â Your voice going to whisper at your admission.
        After a heavy silence hits you, you start to babble about how youâve never had the chance, and that itâs embarrassing to be with someone like Kid and what if you donât live up to what he expects. The quick rant continues until a hand slaps the table next to you, startling you to be quiet as you realize Killer looming over you. Your face red as you remember to breathe again.
        âSo⌠Youâre worried youâll disappoint Kid?â His chest barely brushing against you as he leans lower, âAnd you want me to help?â The clarifying question send another round of emotions swirling around your mind.
        âWell, uh. Itâs just. Kid is so quick, and rough. And itâs not that I donât like it. Itâs just. Um.â You stop for a second to gather your thoughts, âYou seem more gentle.â The whisper of the last sentence leaving your mouth before you could change your mind, âMaybe could give me pointers about him.â Your thumb rubbing the rim of the cup in your hand while you stare at Killers hand resting next to yours.
        You arenât sure what Killer is thinking as he walks away, starting to actually cook breakfast again. You start to pick at the muffin in front of you, accepting the silent refusal. The noise of others waking up and walking on deck alerting you to the time. You go to stand up, placing both hands on the table, but a hand on your shoulder stops you.
        âMeet me in the captainâs room after lunch.â The husky whisper sending a shiver down your spine, you whip your head around and before you could say anything others start to enter the room. Killer places a plate of breakfast in front of you, also setting a place for the others coming in, leaving you with your head reeling.
~~~
        You made you way through your ship, you knew Kid was in his workshop right now but it still felt weird to be going to his room. The dim corridor echoing your foot steps before stopping in front of the large door that had subtle dents and scratches in the wood. Should you knock? Should you just walk in? Before you could decide Killer opened the door, ushering you into the large room before shutting it.
        You take in your surroundings, a huge bed laid against the back wall, posts on each corner that made it seem much to fancy for who you knew Kid to be. A large desk in the corner filled with scrap metal and bookshelves full of knick-knacks and books that looked well-loved, bars in front of them, presumably to keep them in place during storms.  A rather large mirror encompassing most of a wall, just across from the side of the bed. There were two wardrobes, one shut with nothing in front of it while the other had doors ajar, clothes piled around. The room seemingly a mix between well-worn and messy, and lived in but clean.
        âDone staring there, Y/N?â Killerâs voice spooked you, when you realized he was sitting at the end of the bed, leaning back on his hands while staring at you through his mask. You mouth becoming dry as you stare at his bare chest, a happy trail of blonde hair dipping below his pants.
        You glance further down at his crotch before snapping your eyes back up towards his masked face, shifting your weight from one leg to the other. No doubt your entire face was red at this point, the tips of you ears even feeling hot as you feel rooted in your spot. âW-what if Kid comes by? This is his room wonât he-â
        âWe share this room sweetness, now get over here.â Killerâs stern voice had you moving your legs underneath you. Approaching the sitting man as your nervous hands grab his shoulders, placing your knees on either side of his legs before resting on his knees. His rough hands taking a gentle hold of your waist as he shifts you closer to him. Gentle circles from his thumbs helping you relax slightly. âHow do you want to do this?â
        His question shocks you a bit, your grip of his shoulders tighten a bit as you remain silent, not really knowing how to answer. âI know youâre a virgin, but I didnât think youâd be innocent tooâ His silent taunting voice shook you as his hands moved to the top of your thighs, pulling at the skin slightly. His head goes closer to yours before whispering, âDo you want to be in control or do you want me to do everything?â One of his hands angling closer to your crotch, a thumb narrowly missing your core.
        You nuzzle you head into the crook of his neck, your arms wrapping around his neck, âS-show me how to do everything.â Your meek voice making him tense slightly underneath you. He seems to hesitate slightly, so you swallow your pride, âHow do I make someone feel good Killer?â You whisper it in his ear, sitting up slightly to push him against the bed. Sitting on top of him as you slowly take your shirt off, grinding down enough to feel the tent in his pants.
        Killer watches you trying to be confident in your actions, the slightly clumsy movements of an attempt of seduction turning him on more than if you were actually experienced. Maybe he should have told Kid of your intentions so he could watch. Watch your timid shy self try to be what you think Kid wants, doing everything to please him and learn how to make him crazy. If Kid finds out, heâll surely have opinions on the matter. But, in Killerâs defense, he hadnât expected you to be so eager, he thought you wanted to be prepared, to know how it feels, before experiencing it with Kid, who was often harsh in his actions. The idea of Kid finding out of your inexperience amused him, thinking of how he would have handled the situation instead.
        Killer is brought back to his senses when he feels you tug at his pants, already on your knees while staring intently at your newest project. With a little bit of a struggle, you release Killerâs cock, it bouncing into the air before you hesitantly take hold.
        One of your hands on his bare thigh while the other gives a slight squeeze to the base. You stare at the veiny appearance as it twitches, itâs much bigger than you had expected. âIf you want Kid to go insane,â The low grunt reminding you of Killer, âYou should look up at him while you drool over his cock.â
        You think about his words, taking an experimental lick from the base to the tip, hearing a slight curse from above you. You move your hand up, brushing the plump tip with your thumb while letting saliva pool in your mouth.
        You open your lips, letting your tongue lull out, hovering just above Killers tip as drool slowly rides down onto his cock, you glance up to meet Killerâs eyes in an attempt to ask if what you were doing was correct. His masked face not giving you much but the curse under his breath as his hand slips onto your head is enough encouragement as you turn your attention back to the matter at hand. Slowly pursing your lips around him, the slick of your drool being spread as you bob your head down a bit.
        Killers tells you to relax your jaw, before pressing you down a bit more. You flatten your tongue against his shaft, taking in the salty flavor of sweat and precum, trying to be careful to not scrape your teeth against him. You go down a bit deeper, gagging as he hits the back of your throat, tears brimming your eyes, âremember to breathe when you come up.â Killer coaching you through it all as you continue to try and take him deeper. You feel yourself getting hot, wanting to be touched yourself but also not wanting to miss any instructions as your fingers dig into his thighs, your other hand twisting and bobbing in unison with your head.
        Killer grabs your hair, tugging you off his dick as you release him with a âpopâ, you tongue laying out of your mouth slightly as you catch your breath. He brushes some tears away from your cheeks as he tells you how good you did. He picks you up and places you on the bed, waiting for you to be ready before he removes your shorts.
        âKid is thicker than I am, so you have to be prepared for that,â He murmurs while you let him spread your legs. Your head propped up by some pillows, one hand leaning against the head board while the other was being bitten to not let noises out so you could listen better. Your eyes half lidded, a little disappointed that you hadnât made Killer cum before he pulled you off.
        The touches of another personâs hands on your skin, so close to your core was driving you insane. The fire building up as Killer spreads your folds apart, the cool air hitting you more before the tip of his finger teases your entrance.
        Killer knew he was fucked at this point, if Kid finds out how sweet and adorable your mewls are while learning how to please him. He mentally prepared himself for Kidâs anger later before pressing in. Watching as you happily accepted the single finger, the soft warmness welcoming the intrusion with a slight buck of your hips. He glances up to see you staring down at him, the lustful look covering you face as you bit a knuckle. Killer shifted, keeping a finger in you as he reached up to grab your wrist, âYou know Kid likes listening.â
        A whine escaping your lips as you feel another finger inside you. Killer moves your hand towards your breast, and you take that as an order to knead it, playing with your nipple, pinching and squeezing in pace with Killer spreading and pumping his fingers inside you. He watches you and you canât help but to glance away, your head turning towards the mirror. You let out another moan, seeing yourself unraveled with Killer arched above you preparing you for more. You see Killers head glance up at you before turning towards the mirror, he stops his movements entirely.
        âThereâs a reason this is here,â He pulls his digits out of you entirely, a slight ache as you feel yourself pulse around nothing. He sits at the edge of the bed, facing the mirror while gesturing you to come over. You crawl over to him before he picks you up, your legs hooking over his as he leans your back against his chest and widen his own legs, making you open further in full view of yourself.
        The way you glistened slightly, the slight rub of Killers hard dick just underneath you, the glimpse of his cock in the mirror so close to your pussy making your mind go wild. The emotionless mask tilted down as both hands approach your entrance, a single finger from each hand entering you at two different angles, âWatch yourself Y/N.â The demand had your head snapping towards the mirror, watching as he slowly pumping his fingers inside you.
        The dull ache being replaced with want before he pulls your pussy open, adding another finger while you feel the sting of being stretched open. At some point your impatience gets ahead of you when you grind your hips down, feeling Killerâs hard on below you, âYou arenât prepared yet.â The hushed warning tone as he added yet another finger, the harsh pump stretching you out as you let out a moan with a single movement hitting a bundle of nerves. He warns you to behave if you donât want to be hurt by accident as your body burns up wanting more.
        In frustration you lean up, twisting your head to bite Killers neck. Your arms going to wrap themselves around the man behind you to keep him close to your attack. The gasp that leaves Killers mask makes you light headed but you donât let up, lapping your tongue at where your teeth was starting to break his skin. âYea, I can tell why Kid likes you.â
        Killer was having a hard time controlling himself, he didnât want to hurt you. And knowing how big he and Kid were, wanted to take time to properly prepare you. But your gasps and moans were thinning his patience. The grind on him making him go nearly insane, and the bite in his neck only reminding him of how Kid marks him ever so often. He thought about what he should do next, he could take you right now, finally get done the main mission of you coming to him this morning. But you were doing this to learn about Kid, to be prepared for when the domineering Captain finally got a hold of you in private.
        His thoughts were interrupted with a creek of the door, glancing up in the mirror he could see the red feathered coat. You hadnât seemed to notice the extra person, too entranced on leaving a mark on Killers neck. Killer smirks under his mask, spreading your legs more and twisting so Kid could have a better view as to what was happening, a moan vibrating against Killers skin at the movement.
        âY/N. Remind me, why are we doing this?â Killerâs hushed tone made you confused as you detached yourself from him, leaning your forehead against his neck as he continued to brush against your bundle of nerves.
        âW-wanna be. Good, for Kid,â Your moans and breathing making you take time to finish the sentence before glancing at the mirror with half lidded eyes.
        âMmhmm, and why is that?â Killerâs eyes bounced from what he was doing with you to the tall man who had closed the door, locking it. No doubt, his eyes never leaving the scene before him. Killer couldnât help but want to see Kidâs reaction.
        Kid watched from his position as Killer and you were having fun. You hadnât even slept with Kid yet and here heâs finding you playing Killer. His anger was replaced by curiosity when he saw Killer adjust with you in his lap. The words spilling out of your mouth as your naked body was flushed and wide open like an invitation, Killer clearly stretching you wide with soft pants coming from you. Kid already more than pleased with your answer.
        Heâd certainly have to show Killer who was in charge later, but for now he couldnât stop watching as your head turned to face the mirror, although you seemed to out of it to realize he was there, Kid starting to palm himself through his pants while watching you stare at yourself in the mirror. The confusion clear in your face from Killers second question before your face turned a darker shade of red, âCause itâs my first time.â The low whisper sending Kid crazy, you were still to focused on watching yourself react to see anything else in the room.
        Kid walks over to the bed, gripping your hair and twisting your head towards him, the moan that escapes your lips sending him to another planet before you realize who youâre looking at. âOur little mouseâs first time?â The devious smile playing on his lips as he watches your wide eyes stare up at him. Kid glances towards Killer, who had stopped fingering in in favor of wrapping his hands under your thighs, lifting them up and holding them in place for Kid to view.
        âK-Kid-â You stutter out, more embarrassed at being so exposed, you wiggle to try and get free only for Killerâs grip to become tighter, Kid moving his hand to your chin, squishing your mouth open.
        âAnd what have the two of you done so far?â His tone dipping down as his other hand meets your warmth, you involuntarily buck your hips towards his touch with a low moan, âSeems like your needy cunt is more than ready.â
        You feel Killerâs dick twitch beneath you while Kid shoves a finger into you, taking your lips in his, shoving his tongue down your throat. You move your arms around Kidâs neck, pulling him closer as he presses you further into Killerâs embrace. When you start feeling light head he leans back, looking between the two of you before pulling a chair closer, undressing as he sits down in front of you. Killer adjusts his legs a bit, as though expecting what Kid is about to say, âShow me what else you were going to do. Make her cry.â
        You let out a small squeal at the demand youâve just heard as Killer reaches one of his hands down to direct his dick to your entrance. Letting your leg go slack before holding it up again. The hard stare of Kid, who had started to stroke himself, was only added to the pleasure as you felt Killerâs tip nestled in your entrance.
        You roll your hips downwards, gasping at the sudden intrusion you had be longing for. Killer grunts, finally letting himself sink into you. You groan at the sting of being stretched, eyes squeezing shut the deeper he goes into you. The mixture of pleasure and pain flooding your brain the more you're filled. Kid leans forward, placing a hand on Killers knee as he watches you squirm and moan.
        Killer leans down closer to you and you take the opportunity to nuzzle your face into him, twisting uncomfortable as he starts to fuck up into you at a steady pace. Your hand reaches down, feeling the tight sensation of being fucken into, your fingers dipping down around Killers cock to feel how youâve stretched around him.
        The tight sting becomes pleasure soon enough as you yell his name, finally gathering the courage to open your eyes again. You stare down to see Kid massaging Killers thighs, the fast motions making it hard for you to focus. All of a sudden you feel a gentle kiss on the inside of your thigh, a tongue moving over Killers fingers settling closer to the action. You look back down to see Kid peppering your thigh in small kisses before he bites down hard. A scream erupting from your throat, the sensitive skin being overwhelmed with pleasure more than pain.
        Killer lets out grunts behind you, his head resting on your shoulder as he continues to fuck you senseless as Kid finds another patch of skin to bite. Soon enough your body littered with bruising bites, some leaking blood as you hold onto Kid, moaning both the menâs names without reason other than you wanted more.
        âLet her down,â The whisper erupting from Kid causes Killer to gently place your thighs down, blood slowly running through your legs again as Killers dick kisses your cervix with the new found gravity pulling you down. You cry out, gripping Kids shoulder, falling forward slightly. Kidâs head goes behind you, his shoulder right in front of you for you to sink your teeth into as you hear Killer let out a throaty moan. A glance in the mirror shows you the Kid has latched himself onto the blonde man, the opposite side from where you had bitten him.
        Kids dick brushes against your stomach, the rigorous movements still making your mind numb as you reach down. You hesitate when you realize just how thick Kid is. Both your hands meeting to fully wrap around him as you start to squeeze and pump. The hearty groan you hear from Kid causing a shiver down your spine as he thrusts into your touch.
        You feel a bundle in your stomach starting to unravel as time continues. Biting harder into Kidâs shoulder as it comes undone, tasting the sweaty copper the enters your mouth as Kid hisses. Killer gripping your hips before lifting you off him with just enough time to cum on your stomach. You can feel Killer breathing heavy behind you as Kid continues to thrusts into your hands, âCumming without me now?â His words feign hurt as he pushes Killer to lay on the bed, you laying on top of him before Kid climbs, pumping his cock inches away from your face.
        Killer wraps his arms around you in a comforting manner as you decide to open your mouth, letting your tongue hang out in preparation for what was to cum. Kid smiles down at you before placing his tip to your lip, letting the precum smear against you before aiming inside you. The hot white liquid hitting the back of your throat quickly before you swallow the sour taste down.
        âDamn, you were gonna let me miss this?â Kids husky voice turning slightly sweet as his hand caresses your cheek before glancing up at Killer who squeezes you tighter to his body, âAnd here I was thinking you two wouldnât get along.â
        Your mind was still foggy, not fully processing what was happening. The sudden stop of movements lets the air tickle your skin, turning you slightly cold. You turn to snuggle into the man below you, an arm grabbing onto Kid in an attempt to pull him down. â âm tiredâ You mumble, the throbbing ache starting to become more prominent as your eyelids got heavier.
        Kid watches as you fall asleep in Killers arms, âWhy didnât ya take your mask off?â The question came as he leaned down to remove Killers helmet himself. A sweaty, flushed red embarrassed face was revealed making Kid chuckle, âLike our lil Mouse that much?â The silent agreement coming as Killer gets on the bed properly, laying against the pillows, being careful to not wake you up.
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Understand (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader)
Pairing: Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Wife!Reader
Description: Y/n has been using the exterminations as a way to try and search for the soul of her earthly husband for years. What happens when she actually succeeds in finding him?
Warnings: Cannon typical violence and angst. Also uh,, not healthy. (The end is kinda fucked up)
Word Count: 2,411
Master Lists:
Master ListsÂ
Hazbin Hotel Master List
Y/n slid the dark mask over her face, jiggling it slightly to make sure it had clicked properly into place. She had never wanted to be an exorcist, hated the very thought. When she had been alive, she was the type of human who felt bad about accidentally stepping on bugs. If she had had any other choice, she wouldâve taken it but she didnât and so Y/n tried her best to detach herself from the experience.
Exorcists were a handpicked group by Adam. If you werenât one, you didnât know about them and if you knew about them, you were fucked. Y/nâs entire existence in the peaceful afterlife had been turned on its head when sheâd been chosen. Pulled out of normal day to day and pushed into harsh, year round training. There was nothing nice about it and nothing she could do. No one listened to a thing she said, not even Sera. Sometimes, Y/n caught herself wishing sheâd just been sent to Hell instead.
There was, however, one small benefit to these yearly trips. While it was a pain to act like she was being more violent than she was on the field, a constant terror in her life that Adam and Lute would find out sheâd been letting demons go, it also gave her the opportunity to search.
Y/n had been married in life. Her husband had been a criminal, one of the worst, something she hadnât learned until after his death. Still, she couldnât stop herself from loving him. Every day on earth sheâd lived without him by her side had been abysmal. No other love was quite like his love.
When she had first arrived in Heaven, Y/n had searched everywhere for him. There had been no luck. It had been a foolish hope, she knew: looking for a serial killer among the blessed but, she couldnât help herself. She wanted to hear him explain, wanted to understand. Most of all, though she tried not to think about this part, she wanted to give him a kiss. To throw her arms around his neck with abandon the way she did when they were young. She wanted to hear his voice, have him tell her he still loved her too and mean it. She wanted to know she hadnât wasted her life, her one chance at a living love.
The gates opened and Y/n dove through with the hundreds of other exorcists. Their game was underfoot, their cat and mouse sadistic chase. For Y/n? The search was on.
----
Alastor watched as the exorcist descended upon him. He was feeling brave and stupid, empowered after his near win against Vox just a few weeks before. Cracking his knuckles, he wondered what the exorcistâs voice would sound like if added to his broadcast.
A wicked grin on his face, she hovered before him. Her wings flapped with great strength, sending gusts of wind Alastorâs way as she kept herself vertically in the air. Alastor simply looked down, pointedly away from the exorcist, and straightened his lapel with his hand that wasnât holding his microphone. He was trying to make her angry. As she inched closer to him, Alastor assumed it had worked.
âDonât see many of your lot around these parts this time of year.â he mused, checking his nail beds, âWhat can I help you with?â
There was a silence. Alastor looked up towards the angel, confused. Normally a blasĂŠ statement like that would have gotten a rise out of anyone intent on killing him. Instead, the lights of her eyes on the mask just stared at him. Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground.
âSay that again.â
Her voice came out muffled and harsh through the mask, clearly altered by some equipment within. He laughed, taking a menacing step forward. Leaning down condescendingly, he conceded to her demand.
âHow may I be of use?â
The exorcist was silent again. After a moment, Alastor shrugged. He straightened himself up again, his hands on top of his microphone as if it were a cane. He summoned his shadows.
âWell youâre certainly making this easy.â
His horns began to grow, throwing strange and menacing shadows across the walls of the ally way. Still, the angel stood there.
âIt⌠it canât be.â she mumbled under her breath.
Alastor raised his eyebrows.
âCanât be who, darling?â he asked, feigning innocence, âThe Radio Demon canât be such a big name you folks up in Heaven hear my shows, can it?â
Alastor let out a laugh, taking a step forward as the exorcist tentatively took a step back.
âOh who am I kidding, of course it is!â he exclaimed.
The exorcist took another step back as Alastor threw his microphone into the air, catching the center of its stand neatly in his outstretched hand. Her back hit the shadows he had put up to block the ally way and she frantically turned her head to the side, checking what it was sheâd run into.
Alastor tsked her, walking up so they were just a few feet apart. Harshly, he used his microphone to turn his face to hers again.
âDonât look away from me, dear. I might get jealous.â
âWere you married?â the exorcist asked suddenly.
Alastor froze in his tracks, his brow furrowed the slightest bit.
âSorry if thatâs weird.â she stuttered out, rubbing her arm holding the spear uncomfortably, âI just, well, Iâve been looking for my husband? He died in the early 1930s and well, he sounded a lot like you.â
Alastorâs heart dropped, crashing into his diaphragm. The angel watched him nervously as he removed his microphone from the side of her head. She let out a breath sheâd been holding, something that was quickly taken in again as he used the end of his microphone to life her mask from her face.
It clattered harshly against the concrete as it fell from her face. Alastorâs eyes went wide. There was no doubt about it. Sure, she had a soft ethereal glow about her now, but hadnât she always in a way? Sure, her hair was cropped around her ears and she was in armor. It didnât matter, in an instant he knew. The shadows fell from around them, his horns shrunk back to their normal size.
âY/n?â
âAlastor?â she asked back, just as breathless.
Slowly, she reached a hand out to his face and cupped his cheek. He leaned into it on instinct. Y/nâs spear clattered to the floor, her other hand finding his other cheek as she looked up at him in simple amazement.
âYouâŚâ gingerly, Alastor reached his free hand up, laying it on top of one of Y/nâs, âOf course youâve been in Heaven this whole time. You were always so good, much too good for me.â
âOh hush, Alastor.â Y/n scolded lightly, her eyes filling with tears, âYou know I donât like it when you put yourself down like that.â
âNo, Y/n.â he let his microphone disappear, taking both her hands off his face and holding them intently in his own, âYou donât understand. I did terrible things when I was alive, I still do them now. There is a reason I am down here.â
âI know.â she responded almost immediately.
âNo, y-â
âI donât mean to interrupt but Al, I do know.â Y/n cut him off, âYou were killed hurrying a body hun, hard not to. Plus, when the police searched the house they told me what theyâd, um, found in the basement freezer.â
Y/n chose her words carefully, her eyes averted. When she looked back at Alastor, he was still smiling yes but, there was something confused about him too. They had grown up together. She had always known exactly what was going on in that head of his. Well, most of the time anyways.
âIâve been looking for you.â
âYou have?â Alastor asked, âAfter everything, after⌠God, how long did I leave you up there alone?â
âAbout thirty years.â Y/n shrugged.
There was a moment of silence. A question tugged at Alastorâs tongue, one he wasnât sure he really wanted to know the answer to. Still, time was running out. The screams of demons being attacked were becoming more and more infrequent. He didnât know if heâd ever get another chance.
âDid your new husband make it up to heaven with you?â
Y/nâs eyes went wide.
âNew husba- Alastor, I never remarried.â
âWhy not? You deserved to be treated well, Y/n. To have had a good life. Why waste it all on me?â
âI loved you. I still do.â
Y/n knew it was a bad idea, knew the risks if any other exorcist in the area heard her. Still, she couldnât help but feel it would be worth it to die, knowing sheâd found Alastor and that he knew she still loved him.
âYou find anyone down here yourself?â Y/n asked awkwardly after a moment, looking around the ally.
Alastor took a step forward, closing what little space had been left between them. Like he had done it a thousand times before, because he had done it a thousand times before, he raised a hand to Y/nâs cheek and turned her face to his. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted, she stared up at him.
âNo one.â Alastor shook his head, âThereâs no one but you.â
A horn sounded from a ways away and Y/n turned up to the sky. Waves of exorcists were flying over head, going back to the portal, back to heaven. Y/n took a step back, Alastorâs hand falling from her cheek.
âAl, I have to go.â
âPlease, Y/n. Stay with me here. I canât get to you up there, I donât want to lose you again.â
âI have to go, Al. I donât want to cause any more trouble for you and everyone else down here.â she insisted, turning to where her mask lay on the ground, âIâll be back in twelve months, I promise.â
As Y/n leaned over to grab her called disguise, her wings splayed out behind her. Light hit the tip of her spear just right in that moment, catching Alastorâs eye. A wicked idea filtered into his mind. Something he never could have done, would have ever even imagined when heâd been alive. But now? Hell had hardened him, taught Alastor sometimes you had to be cruel to get what you want and not just when it came to killing creeps. He had tried life without Y/n before, tried nearly sixty years of it. Alastor didnât like it one bit.
âWe will get to see one another then,â Y/n was saying as her trembling fingers fumbled for the edge of her mask in the dim light, âand I promise Iâll find a way we can end up together for good, I really d-â
A searing pain shot through her, causing her words to catch in her throat. It was worse than anything Y/n had ever felt before, emanating from the center of her back. Panting in pain, she reached a hand behind her back. It came away wet with sticky, golden blood. Her vision blurring, Y/n looked up at Alastor. Clutched in his right fist was the head of her spear. From the other hand, he dropped her left wing to the floor.
âAlastorâŚâ she panted, her breath weak, âwhatâŚâ
He took a step forward and an arrow of fright shot through Y/n. She tried to take one back but the pain was starting to really get to her now and she stumbled, falling to the ground. Alastor stood over her, smiling menacingly down as she scooted back from him. Y/n was full on hyperventilating now.â
âAl, what are you doing? What⌠how⌠I donât understand.â
Alastor hushed her gently, the way he used to when they were little kids and he found her crying. Tears began to drip from Y/nâs eyes and she jolted violently with fear as his clawed hand grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to twist around and giving him access to her other wing. He grabbed it, pulling it out to its fullest extent.
âAlastor please.â Y/n begged, tears rolling hotly down her face, âPlease donât. Please.â
âMy, these sure are pretty.â Alastor hummed, admiring the weft of the feathers as he held Y/nâs remaining wing.
âWhy would you do this!?â Y/n screamed, her voice echoing in the empty ally.
Alastor fell to his knees behind her, still holding her wing out, still immobilizing her in pain.
âIâve already lost you once.â he said softly, leaning into Y/nâs ear. She whimpered, trying to scoot away from him but unable to due to the hold he had on her appendage, âI wonât do it again. If Satan, or God, or the fucking universe think they can keep us apart, then not a single goddamn one of them has been paying attention because you are mine. You are mine and there is nothing that I wouldnât do to keep things that way.â
As the final words left Alastorâs lips, he cut through Y/nâs remaining wing in a single motion. She let out an earsplitting scream before passing out in a steadily growing puddle of her own golden blood.
âThere, there my love.â Alastor hummed gently, dropping the spear to the ground and smoothing her her wild hair down around her face as he pulled himself to his feet.
Straightening his jacket, Alastor leaned down and picked her limp body up off the sidewalk. The injuries were bad, but nothing he couldnât help her handle.
âI just canât explain to you how happy I am to have you back in my arms.â he said to Y/nâs sleeping form, looking down at her tired and tearstained face with nothing short of adoration, âYou might be mad for a while, but I can handle that. At the end of the day, we will both know that youâre not going anywhere.â
Leaning down, he planted a soft kiss on Y/nâs forehead. For a moment, his smile went hollow. He hadnât meant to go this far, to hurt her this bad. Alastor had just been so scared, so utterly terrified at the prospect of losing her again.
âShe will understand.â he reassured himself, âShe has to understand.â
ââ
Part Two â Caged Bird (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader)
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summer fling
summary: a summer fling turns into more after lance tells the truth.
pairing: lance stroll x reader
warnings: none
genre: fluff!!
notes: Iâve been on a lance kick recently!! sorry for the infrequent uploads, Iâve been very busy recently. send in any requests đŤś
words: 1.1k
LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO
You had met Lance at a fancy restaurant during yours- and coincidentally his summer break. You didn't know who he was, all you knew was that he was hot and sweet, a perfect combination for a summer fling!
âSo where are you from?â Lance had asked, some fancy drink in his hand as he stood by you at your table, âWhy do you want to know? For all I know you could be a secret killer..â You had replied with a grin, wanting to keep him on his toes.
âAww..câmon, I just want to get to know you..â He responded with a smile, not sensing any harm in your words, or rather any resentment.
âFine..you can sit down and get to know meâŚâ
That had been maybe a week ago, know you and Lance text, call and hang out frequently, you didn't mind it. You quite liked him actually, but it was supposed to be a summer fling, not a full fledged romance, but heyâŚmaybe it wouldn't hurt.
You still didn't know much about him, he said he didn't have social media so you didn't bother trying to dig up anything, not really caring that much about it, but you did know he had money.
âOkay, no! Thats so ugly!â You say with a giggle as you lay on Lances chest, him scrolling through some cars he liked, Lance let out a fake offended gasp, âThat is not ugly!â
âWhatever helps you sleep at nightâŚ.â You respond with a smile. "Don't make fun of my car choices." He replied, his tone clearly playful- he didn't actually care.
You laid there, resting your head on his chest as your fingers intertwined with his, your thumb stroking his hand. You looked up at him, watching his mouth form words as he scrolled through his camera roll.
You looked away, not wanting him to notice you looking. Your thoughts were scattered, you had no idea what you wanted from him. You had grown close, closer than you had ever thought. But for what?
I mean you didnât even know what he did for a living, he never brought up that kind of stuff. Should you ask? No..no donât ruin the mood.
So you didnât ask, you just went on with how things were not asking any questions, not wanting to ruin anything.
But he had stopped texting or calling frequently, even hanging out, it was weird. Maybe he was hiding something from you?
But one night you had gotten a text, two tickets to a Canadian Grand Prix? Formula One? You had heard of it, but didnât really care.
Then your phone popped up with a face time request from Lance.
âHey uhm- whatâs up with the tickets?â You ask, confusion evident in your face and words.
"Oh those?" Lance looked away from the camera for a second, he was trying to hide the genuine excitement from his face. It was quite hard.
"I thought it would be nice to take a trip over to the race, you don't have to go with but if you want to-" He stopped himself, he was being too desperate.
"It's not a big deal.." It was clear he wanted you to say yes, very desperately.
âNo..no itâs okay! It sounds fun, Iâll make sure I can go..but why Formula One?â You ask, feeling like he was hiding something.
He was shocked for a second, how had you not made the connection? He had been so subtle about his passion for cars, he figured it to be clear.
âI uhm- I work in Formula One..kind of..â He says, clearly avoiding the topic. âOh okay thatâs cool..well Iâm sure itâll be fun..â You say with a smile, not wanting to press into the topic.
Lance sighs in relief, you didnât press him on this topic. It was something he wanted to keep to himself for the time being, just until he felt comfortable with you.
But you werenât just some summer fling anymore, he had developed genuine feelings towards you.
âWow..okay this is fancy..â You say, stepping onto a jet thatâll take you to the Grand Prix.
"Yeah, it is.." He was more used to seeing this sort of environment, but for you it was probably quite impressive.
âLance- why are there so many people..â You whisper out, clutching his hand as you two are ushered out of the airport, people shouting for his autograph on hats- or asking for a picture.
âIâll tell you once we get to the hotel..â He says with a sigh and small smile, squeezing your hand.
You first thought that maybe he was a very rich well-known bachelor- although that wouldnât have made sense.
You were nervous, anxious. What was he going to tell you?
âIâm a formula one driver for Aston Martin..and my father owns the team..â Lance says, looking up at you from his spot on the bed, nervously fidgeting with his fingers.
Well that was certainly not what you were expecting.
Your eyes widen at that statement, you didn't really want to believe it, but the pieces all fit together. The jet ride, the crowd of people, the way everyone was taking pictures of him.
"You- your dad owns the team?" You ask cautiously. What did this mean for you? Were you considered a "trophy" to him? Your mind was racing- you didn't know how to feel.
"Y-yeah.." He responds nervously, you could tell he was worried about your reaction. He had always expected that reaction with anyone he told the truth.
You weren't expected to understand or want to be around that. He didn't blame you. You were different.
"I understand if you want to leave or-" His voice trails off, he's waiting for you to speak up.
âNo! No..itâs okay, just a lot to take in, yknow? You couldâve told me..â You say with a chuckle, walking over to him, standing between his legs.
His eyes widened at the suddenness of this encounter. You were standing between his legs, he had expected you to run off, not this.
"I wanted to, but I felt it wasn't right- especially not until I knew how you felt." He said softly, not really letting his eyes wander.
There was a soft smile on his face.
âRight..just donât do that again..â You say with a giggle, reaching for one of his hands to lace your fingers together.
âAnd just know itâs not âdaddyâs moneyââ Lance says, looking up at you.
You nod your head, giving him a small smile.
Now you know why he didnât want to tell you.
âSo..I guess weâre official, huh?â Lance says with a chuckle, you smile softly at him. âI guess so..â
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
radio đŞŠ: donât be afraid to send in requests or ask to be added to the taglist!! I hope it was good :))
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Hey! I hope youâre well!
For milf Wanda, Iâm always a sucker for Wanda comforting reader because she has that motherly nature about her.
Perhaps, reader meets Wanda at a bar when theyâve been stood up for a date and Wanda helps them feel better
Just How Fast the Night Changes
pairing: wanda maximoff x reader
warnings: only slightly suggestive, hint at an age gap
summary: Your date doesnât show, but luckily Wanda is there to save the day.
word count: 1.2k
a/n: i hope i captured milf!wanda in this đđ tbh idk but i like their interactionâŚenjoy! i feel like thereâs a potential for a part two here đł
Glancing down at your watch, you let out a heavy sigh. Your date was supposed to meet you here an hour and a half ago. Seeing as it was almost 9 oâclock, you figured she wasnât going to show.
âIâll have another one.â You motioned to the bartender, raising your wine glass that was now empty.
âPut it on my tab,â a melodic voice said as a stunning woman dressed in a well-tailored suit slid into the stool next to you.
âOh no, you donât have to do that,â you tried to politely decline, waving the bartender to come back.
âPlease.â The woman gently put her hand on your bare shoulder, her touch eliciting goosebumps, âI insist.â
âThank you,â you mumbled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, as you feel her emerald eyes following your every movement, her gaze burning you alive.
As the bartender approached with your glass, you quietly thanked him with a smile before taking a sip of your wine.
âSo, tell me,â she started also sipping her drink before swiveling in her seat so she was leaning against the bar and facing you, her knee barely grazing yours in the process. âWhat is a beautiful woman like you doing sitting at a bar alone on a Friday night?â
You felt your cheeks warm from her complement â the way her leg kept brushing yours didnât help either.
âIââ You cleared your throat, a whole new warmth flushing your face â this time out of embarrassment. âI was supposed to be meeting someone here, but they didnât show.â
âIâm sorry, sweetie.â Her expression softened, a small pout forming on her lips (not that you were looking or anything).
âItâs fine,â you told her, swirling the wine in your drink distractedly. âShe was just some mutual friend my coworker set me up with.â
âStill.â The woman knitted her brows and placed a g hand on your knee. âNo one should get stood up, especially not someone like you.â
You couldnât help but let out a laugh. âWith all due respect, you donât even know who someone like me is. For all you know, I could be a stalker serial killer.â
âYouâre right,â she agreed with a chuckle. âThough, I would like to get to know you.â
You stared at her for a brief moment, contemplating your next move. There was no doubt that the woman sitting before you was stunning â probably way out of your league to begin with â but flirting with strangers was not something you were totally familiar with. Screw it.
âIâm (Y/N).â You held out your hand for her to shake, which she gladly accepted.
âWanda.â
You let your hand linger in hers for a moment, her soft touch warming your body.
âSo, Wanda,â you began with a slight smirk, âwhatâs a beautiful woman like you doing at a bar alone on a Friday night?â
âTouchĂŠ.â Wanda grinned, tipping her glass to you before downing the rest of her drink. âI had a rough week at work, and my ex-husband has my twins this weekend so I figured I come drown my stress.â
âWork sucks,â you agreed, trying to hide the shock hearing that she had kids. You recovered smoothly with the help of your wine. âIâm sorry about your week.â
âDonât be. It happens,â she said. âLuckily, it just got a lot better.â
You rolled your eyes at her flirting, but you couldnât stop the blush creeping up your neck.
âWhat do you do?â
âIâm a lawyer,â Wanda replied.
âWow.â Your eyes widened. âVery impressive.â
Wanda grinned bashfully, her cheeks tinted with a blush of her own. âWhat about you?â
âA surgeon.â
âSo youâre gorgeous and smart?â She grinned, clearly enjoying the effect her flirting had on you.
âI guess if the shoe fits,â you chuckled, the alcohol giving you a boost of confidence. âYou wanna know what else Iâm good at?â You lowered your voice with a suggestive smirk.
Wandaâs eyes visibly darkened, and she licked her lips.
âHoney,â she started with a slight rasp in her voice, scooting forward so her knee made its way between your legs, âthe things Iââ
The buzzing of your cellphone on the counter rudely interrupted her. Briefly glancing down at the screen, you winced.
âI am so sorry,â you apologized with a frown. âI have to take this. Iâm on call.â
âOf course, of course.â Though Wanda understood all too well the inconvenient phone calls at annoying hours, she still bit back the disappointment that this particular call was ending the night earlier than she wouldâve liked.
As you listened to your attending brief you on the situation, you dug through your purse, trying to fish out your wallet.
âIâm so sorry,â you repeated to Wanda after hanging up, still trying to fumble through your bag. âThey need me down at the hospital.â
âNo worries,â she shot you an understanding smile and placed her hands on yours to stop your movement. âItâs on my tab remember?â
âWanda,â you trailed off, shaking your head.
â(Y/N).â She stared at you, as she gave you a look that you imagined she often gave her kids when they decided to talk back.
âI canât let you do that,â you tried, though you knew you were fighting a losing battle.
âYes, I can,â Wanda insisted, slyly zipping your purse shut.
âFine,â you huffed and slid out of your stool. âIâm buying next time then.â
âNext time?â She smirked at your presumptuousness despite also wanting to see you again.
âUnless you donât wanna see me again,â you rambled, your nerves bubbling inside of you. âWhich I totally get and I understand, I just thoughtââ
â(Y/N),â Wanda interrupted softly, putting you out of your misery. âI would love to see you again.â
âOkay.â All you could do was nod, as you bit back a smile.
âOkay,â she said, mirroring your expression as she took your phone out of your hand and began typing. âHereâs my number. I expect a call.â
âYes maâam,â you hummed, missing the way Wandaâs eyes darkened at your words. After you took your phone from her and putting it back in your pocket, you stared at her for a moment.
Instinctively, you leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on her cheek. âThank you,â you breathed, âfor saving my night.â
âPleasureâs all mine,â Wanda whispered, struck by your proximity and the feeling of your lips on her skin.
âNow, I really have to go.â You glanced at your watch and reluctantly retreated from her.
âWell, I hate to see you go, but Iâll happily watch you leave,â she playfully slapped the side of your waist, not quite your ass but having the same effect.
As you made your way towards the exit, you swayed your hips a little extra, knowing Wandaâs eyes were still on you. The brisk night air cooled your adrenaline rush, and you took a deep breath, a grin forming on your face. To think your started your night alone after being stood up and yet you somehow ended up leaving with the promise of a date with a beautiful woman.
How quickly a night can change.
âââ
wanda taglist: @alexmxff @likefirenrain @amasimpformilfs @crescent-witch @iliketozoneout @fxckmiup @inluvwithfictionalwomen @chelleztjs18 @mediocre-writerr @milfloverslut @fayhar @kermy48 @nataliasknife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @when-wolves-howl @findingmaximoff @kacka84 @carnagewidow @bentleywolf29 @wandaromanoffsblog @noaaas-world @luvwanda @togrowoldinv @sadpiscesheartâ @jujuu23â @beenicejoy @an-evergreen-rose
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HIS BONNIE ON THE SIDE.
đđđđđđđđ. being in a relationship with dark!john wick through the years.
warnings. toxic relationship. nsfw. corruption kink. emotional manipulation. canon typical violence. gaslighting. not proof read.
pairings. dark!john wick â đâ fem!reader.
josieâs note .âş Ë â i love doing these little hcs (and also i've had no inspo for full length fics unfortunately </3). anyways, this is for my all my toxic!john wick enjoyers â hope you enjoy ⥠!!
#. requests are open. â masterlist.â keanu reeves masterlist.
đđđđđđđ.
dark!young!john wick is so much more impulsive, especially when it comes to you. even though heâs only in his twenties, his name is rapidly spreading throughout the crime world. john's known for his ruthlessness and ambitionâ and you get to be the first to fall victim to both, and live.
john is a bit of an adrenaline junkieâ loves the thrill of the chase. whenever you try to escape from him, heâs hot on your tail. this game of cat and mouse only makes catching you so much more fun.
his jealousy is worse when heâs younger (although it never really gets better). having been raised in the ruska roma (a desolate home, completely void of love and feelings), heâs projecting all his emotional turmoil onto you.
again, john was taught to wield the sharpest blades, and wield the heaviest of gunsâ but feelings⌠heart to hearts? heâs almost emotionally inept.Â
"thought you were too tired to go out," his voice makes you jump as you nearly drop your keys from your hands. you turn around, noticing him hiding behind your entrance door, lurking.
"i-i just went for a walk," you stammer. john's footsteps echo in your tiny apartment when he comes closer. towering over you at 6'1, you gaze upwards at your lover.
"yeah, i know. i saw you.. and him."
heâs fuming watching you get cozy and comfortable around other people, even if itâs just platonic. john wishes you were like that around him, and not so guarded and fearful.
and heaven forbid one of your male friends tried anythingâ anything. youâre devastated to see their photo splashed on the morning news the next day.
heâs possessive as all hell. working in crime syndicates and doing hits for the mob heightens his paranoia of something happening to you, so whenever possible, he keeps you under constant surveillance.
you frequently get into fights about this. even if you bring up the subject nicely, he damn near freaks out.Â
âi just want some space. i'm not even sure you trust me at all!â your hands flop to your sides frustratedly, eyes fluttering with exhaustion at the tiresome loop of this conversation.
âi'm not going anywhere, ever. you can be sure of that.â
young!john is so quick to react, too quick. your arguments can get ugly very fast. seeing him so explosive and agitated with you in contrast to his usual charming and cool nature grounds you in realityâ he's a cold blooded killer, and he could if he wanted to...
speaking of killing, because of his job, he randomly disappears for weeks or months at a time.
you miss him so badly, but itâs not like you could call him or talk to him in any way, so you spend many sleepless nights wondering what the hell heâs doing. if heâs even alive.
don't even try to break up with him, or ghost him. younger john is not above kidnapping youâ and even worse, pretending like it's your fault. you've been a bad girl, and now you've forced his hand :(
dark john wick is a manhandler! i'm speaking my truth! heâs just so much bigger than you, and stronger than you, sometimes he doesnât even realise the brute of his strength against you.Â
he grabs your arm when dragging you somewhere, throws you over his shoulder, or when heâs feeling particularly passionate, just presses his fingers into your cheeks and pulls you in for a rough kiss.
"it's you and me, till the end. i meant it, you know that right?" john asks softly, his forehead gently pressed against yours, his dark irises searching yours for any semblance of understanding. you slowly nod, and try not to cry when he locks his lips with yours.
â â â
đđđđđ.
dark!older!john wick is silent but deadly. having (somewhat) emotionally matured into his middle aged years, heâs more calculated, and logical when it comes to you.
less explosive and controlled by impulses, his ability to fill your innocent little heart with guilt is almost impressive.
âiâm sorry, john, please,â you wrap your arms around him from behind, your chest pressed against his back as you rest your chin on his shoulder . âi-i do trust you, i swear. how can i show you i do?â
while johnâs face may well be presenting a hurt facade, he canât ignore the growing bulge in his pants. your glassy doe eyes, quiet sniffles, and desperate need to want to be in his good graces againâ who is he to pass up the opportunity?
even older, he is still so fiercely protective over you. heâs the infamous baba yaga, heâs not taking any chances. youâre damn near suffocated from how tight a leash he keeps you on.
when you keep resisting his âprotectionââ john is determined to make you see how much you need him. heâd probably hire someone to scare you a little bit, or even do it himself, just to have you driven back into his loving arms.
âiâm here, honey,â he whispers, wrapping his arms around you, enclosing you in his warm embrace as you sobbed into his chest. thankfully you miss the small eerie smile on his face. âiâll always keep you safe.â
he has a little bit of a corruption kink. you're this sweet little thing, and john's ready to completely smear your rose-tinted view of life. while he doesn't give you all the gorey details, whatever he does tell you just adds onto the emotional manipulation that you need him. that you can't live without him (when it's practically the vice versa).
he's so unbelievably devoted to you. it's actually unhealthy, you're constantly on his mind. normally, he can keep underwraps how sickly in love he is with youâ but during sex is when his darkest thoughts come out.
âiâll kill them,â his lips against your ear, a hand gently holding your throat while the other is pressed against your button, vehemently rubbing circles.
he continues rutting into you, deliciously stretching your small cunt with his large cock. the tip gently kissing your cervix as you let out a strangled moan, completely overwhelmed with pleasure. âIâll kill them all for you, every last one.â
heâs kind of condescending in a way that he thinks you need his help for every little thing. at first it makes you feel small, and stupidâ hey, you may not be the worldâs most feared assassin but surely you donât need his help with walking to work in the morning!
he's always right (or at least he thinks). having been put on a pedestal by the crime world, it's no wonder john develops a slight superiority complex. john likes to let you "win" fightsâ but deep down, it's his way or no way.
*cough* he's a stalker *cough*.
either way, younger!john or older!john perceive you as the angel among his demons. the one thing in his life that could cleanse his soulâ or taint yours.
ďš âĄ ďšâ taglist: @desoolate @sughcashsaiki @vezuiv @br-2408 @beansricejc @emosludge @nwheregirl . . !
let me know if anyone wishes to be added/removed. â ৠ⧠â Ë
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