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luveline · 12 days

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𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

When someone hurts you, you and Aaron both need time to get better, and to put things right. fem, 8k

cw canon typical violence, graphic scenes and imagery of assault/battery, recovery, mentions of being sick, issues eating. established relationship, lots of angst and comfort, hotch being vulnerable, jack being sweet

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

You lay backward over the luxurious stretch of the couch and sigh as your spine gives a sharp crick. Your head feels heavy after a long shower, your arms ache from a day at work, but the feeling of soft cotton on your legs deters any moping.

I hope these are more comfortable, his note read, a white post it note stuck to a boutique bag. You wrap an arm around your waist remembering how Aaron’s message had made you feel: spoiled, and considered.

You’d mentioned in passing that all your pyjamas are old and rough as a consequence, thought nothing of it, and promptly forgot about the conversation entirely.

When Aaron finally comes home tonight, you’re going to give him a proper thank you. You can imagine his reaction to such a thing, his smile as he says it’s no problem, his eyes shuttering closed as you press a kiss to his cheek. You hadn’t realised how prevalent affection would become in your life after meeting him, but everything he does inspires love. Awful, soft, marshmallowy love where he looks at you and you want to sit in his lap.

You slide your phone up your chest lazily and click the button on the side to light the display. Aaron hasn’t claimed to know when he’ll be home tonight. All he’d said was to let yourself in.

It’s odd but not the worst thing in the world to be alone in his apartment. There’s less and less free space each time you visit as Jack begins to outgrow his and his fathers lodgings, but there’s never a stain or bad smell, the Hotchner apartment feels homey. You’re excited whenever you’re invited to spend the night with them.

Maybe some time soon he’ll ask you to move in, or better, to marry him. You’re not a hundred percent sure how you feel about marriage, about being someone’s wife, but there’s a great well of pleasure to be found in the idea that Aaron would want to marry you. He makes you feel loved already in a hundred different ways but the ring might be nice, like a symbol to signify how much you mean to him.

You rest your hand across your eyes. It’s silly to think of. Sillier to want so soon. You’ve been together for just under a year, and you have no false hopes about rushing into the future, but it’s certainly a future you want with him (and with Jack, too). He’s taking things slowly for a hundred different reasons but he loves you, and gifts like your new pyjamas cement that. He really listens to you.

Your phone rings a moment later.

You smile at the screen. It’s nice to be in love with someone who loves you too.

“Hey,” Aaron says when you answer, his voice warm even through the phone, “I didn’t think you’d answer.”

“How come?” You sit up with a little start.

“It’s getting late, honey. I called Jess and Jack was already gone.” He doesn’t say anything further.

“Are you okay?”

“I wanted to hear your voice, I think.”

“Well, where are you?” You struggle to envision him speaking saccharinely like this where his colleagues could hear him. He’s nice to you often, but he’s a reserved man.

“I’m just,” —a crunching sound of metal, the trunk of his car closing— “about to get in the car. I’ll be home before ten. Can I have you until then?”

“I don’t see any reason to say no. But do you think you could come home a little faster? I have a crick in my neck.”

“And you want me to fix that?”

“You always fix my neck.”

“How have you done it?” There’s a sound you assume to be the car door closing, but you can’t hear anything beyond that.

“I have bad posture.”

“You have perfect posture.”

“No, it’s quite bad.”

He laughs loudly. It took some time to draw the humour from him but he isn’t as stony as you’d think, and for a while he didn’t have much worth laughing for, anyways. Whenever you hear it, you try to prompt it twice.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Aaron, it’s just like when you said my weird rash wasn’t weird.”

He laughs again, to your pleasure. “It wasn’t weird, it was a heat rash, I promise. You act like you’ve never seen heat rash.”

“One of us goes to hot cities all the time and one of us lives permanently in Virginia.”

“What are you talking about? Virginia’s far from cold. You’re being argumentative, I can see your smile in my head. I’m never going to fix your crick if you keep acting like that.”

“No, don’t be like that,” you laugh, tipping back into the cushions. “You’re always such a sore loser.”

“What did I lose?”

You can tell from his tone that you’ve promised yourself one of those hugs that borders on a straight jacket tightness, his face tucked into your neck as he asks you to repeat yourself. What did I lose? he’ll ask again, kissing your chin, the line of your jaw. Tell me clearly.

“It hurts,” you say honestly, “please don’t be mad. I really need one.”

“I’m not mad… I’m going under the overpass, my signal might cut out.”

“Okie dokie. Hey, did you eat? I can make you something for when you get home. I got groceries.”

“I’m not hungry, but you can make yourself hot cocoa, and I’ll drink it when I get there,” he says.

“Or I could make us both some?”

“It’s much more fun if I drink yours before you can, honey. You know that—”

You pause in the quiet, then hear a quick beeping. You pull your phone from your ear and find the call disconnected.

Cruel overpass, you think.

Sure he’ll call you back, you take your phone into his kitchen and set about finding all the things you’ll need for hot cocoa. One mug, because you should hate when he forces you to share, but you love the feeling of his fingers on yours as he takes it and the thankful kiss he dots on your cheek.

The kettle is uncomplicated. You toy with the stovetop, set the kettle on the burner, and let the temperature rise. It begins whistling lightly a mere thirty seconds later.

You click your phone on again. He’ll have passed through the tunnel now and will be calling you back any minute. You stare at the phone, hoping to summon him, slouched over the counter with the tin of cocoa powder by your fingers. The kettle whines with growing heat, but cool air kisses your back.

Goosebumps rise. Up and down the lengths of your arms, the back of your neck—

A sudden chill.

The lack of air comes before the hand, the pain a rush, a burst to be away from. Leather on your neck creaking without sympathy as a hand tightens and drags your body back against something hard.

Not Aaron. Your scream comes strangled under cruel fingers as you fight to move forward again, straight for the burner, the kettle shoved across the burner grate and exploding with scalding water, heat of the burner kissing your chest— you scream, only it’s worse than a scream, sound from the deepest part of you forcing itself past the heat at your neck as you try to fling yourself away from the pain.

You fall with a hard clout. “Stay still!” comes out enraged against the back of your neck. You drop to your knees, the pain lighting flaring up your chest, your gaze frantic as you search for a flame that isn’t there. You’re not on fire, you’re crawling and then scampering up into a standing position when the heavy weight drops itself on you again and smashes your face into the floor.

All your fight leaves you. Your ears ring. Your panic wanes but the pain stays alert in your mouth.

A hand grabs you by the back of the head and drives your face into the ground. It’s like light in your eyes and your nose, the brunt of it, the crack of your bone and the hot trickle of blood that swiftly follows. You gurgle in pain, spluttering and gagging against the linoleum, waiting for Aaron to turn you over and say sorry. It’s an accident.

Blood drains from your nose in spurts to match your racing pulse, so much blood you can see your eyes reflected in the dark stretch of it. Water drips down the front of the stove, your breath aches and begs, and your attacker takes a measured breath.

He flips you over. You can’t slide away, there’s nothing left in you, your head a second body as he raises something.

Your phone rings on the counter.

“Please, don’t,” you plead with a sob.

You pass out as the pain connects. Just as quickly as it started, your body takes the reins.

—

There’s a strange darkness waiting for you. Like waking before your alarm and stealing those last minutes, body aching, not wanting to get up and face the day. Aaron gets up early every morning, sometimes as early as four AM, and whenever you get up with him your eyes hurt for hours.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Hey, hey, I think your boyfriend’s coming.

What will he make of my handiwork?

You didn’t stay awake long enough for that one, did you? But you’re waking up now.

The pain is enough to wake you up again, a hot drag down the side of you to your hip and in. You aren’t aware of the sounds you make, but you can hear them. Your panicked squealing as the heat presses further and further in. Your crying, and your whispering, “Stop, stop.”

“There’s handsome,” the dark voice says. “I’ve gotta go hide somewhere, does he carry after hours? I think I’ll find out.”

“Oh,” you say, feeling sickly. You attempt to curl into yourself, when did you turn onto your back? “No,” you mumble, lips wet with something hot.

“Honey?” a voice asks.

“Honey,” you repeat, woozy again, darkness falling in all over again, where it stays.

Honey, are you in here?

—

The window behind Aaron’s shoulder is cold. Rain patters fast like floods, thunder occasionally chewing through clouds, and Jack Hotchner cries sluggish tears into his dad’s shoulder.

Aaron has his eyes closed. They’ve been at this for a while. “Shh, shh shh, buddy,” he says softly, patting the bottom of Jack’s back. He’d sway him back and forth if his arms weren’t about to fall off.

Jack squirms closer, no room left between them.

“I know it’s scary,” Aaron says.

Jack just cries. This approach of quiet support isn’t working; Jack isn’t a baby that needs to be put to sleep, he’s a panicking little kid, and Aaron needs to change gears. He ushers him away from his chest and crosses his arm behind Jack’s back. Careful, he shifts Jack’s weight to free his other arm and brings his fingers up to the silky brown hair dropping onto Jack’s forehead.

“She’s okay,” Aaron says, stroking Jack’s hair. His little forehead is clammy. “She’s not hurting. I know it looks scary, honey, but… she’s just resting.”

Jack looks him in the eyes. “Her face.”

“I know.” He nods emphatically. “It’s hard to see. Blood isn’t nice. You don’t have to see her again today, not if it’s too scary.”

Jack lifts a hand to Aaron’s face. Clumsy but with clear attempts to be careful, he wipes at the skin under Aaron’s eye. Aaron bites back a smile.

“I look tired,” he says.

“Yeah.” Jack brings his hand back to wipe his eyes. He sobs as he does it. Aaron can’t describe the ache it gives him to see it.

“Buddy, I’ll do it. Let me wipe your face. I can do it.”

Jack drops his hands. Aaron turns his hand and wipes the smudge of Jack’s tears from hot cheeks, testing the waters with a little smile.

“I couldn’t see you under all those tears.”

Jack does a little smile back. “Yes you can.”

“I couldn’t! But now I’ve wiped all your face I can see you again. You’re handsome, did we know that?”

Jack giggles. He sniffles, and he presses his palm to Aaron’s neck. “I don’t want her to be sad, dad.”

“She’s going to be sad, because something scary happened, but it’s okay. I’m gonna take care of her.”

Aaron would offer to take him home, but they can’t go home. They may not go home for a long time —the team is still trying to work out how someone made it into the apartment without alerting the building’s security or Aaron’s internal system. And then escaped again without Aaron’s notice. Until then, Aaron has to make a decision about a safe house, for himself, Jack, and Jess, though she's extremely unreceptive to the idea.

Aaron has to look after Jack, and he needs to take care of you.

“What do you think, bud?” he asks, cupping Jack’s head in his hand. “Do you want to go home?”

“You said I can give her a hug.”

“If it’s too scary, we don’t have to. I don’t want you to get upset again.”

“I’m not scared. I want to give her the hug,” he says.

Aaron pulls him in for a hug of his own. “Okay, buddy. Just try to think of it like this. She’s where she needs to be to get better. Everybody here is looking after her. She’ll be okay soon.”

Aaron looks over Jack’s head down the hospital hallway. It’s a quiet ward, and here between the main ward doors and the hallway that leads down to the individual rooms there’s complete silence. Night is approaching quickly again, and with it comes Aaron’s panic. Your head turned into a puddle, your face lax of expression in the dark. He can’t stop finding the women he loves bloody and on their backs.

“Ready?” he murmurs. “Can you walk with me? My arms are tired.”

“Yeah.”

Aaron puts Jack down gently onto his feet. He neatens his hair, chucking him under the chin as he goes to see his smile. He’s so pretty, like Haley was, with shiny eyes. He’s a beautiful kid. Aaron takes his hand and together they make their way down the hallway to your room.

You’re sleeping.

Aaron herds Jack through the door and to the plastic covered chair by your side, where he lifts him up and sits him down. He stays between you both. Jack isn’t scared of you, just the blood, but he wants to show Jack that he’s going to protect him from anything he needs protecting from. He also desperately wants to touch you, and reassure himself that you’re still breathing.

He looks for your hand. Your pinky finger is splinted, but he can take it with care, give the palm of it a squeeze.

The blood matted in your hair has finally been washed away after a turbulent day, as well as the staining that marred your face. Your nose is broken, and looks it, the bruises so fierce your eyes have turned puffy and your top lip has inflamed. There are second degree burns in multiple places but most affectedly on your chest. There’s a stab wound at your hip, allegedly done with a small blade. It nicked your small intestine. The bandages laid over you are a lump under your hospital gown.

Aaron looks at you, and he feels a passionate disdain for himself. He wishes he could… be someone else. Someone who doesn’t have such a deep connection to a job that hurts the people around him, over and over. Haley used to say he was obsessed with being the hero, but this doesn’t feel heroic.

“Do you wanna give her your cuddle?” he asks softly.

Jack stays sitting.

He’ll have to give it to you himself. Careful, Aaron leans down over your prone body and presses a half kiss to your ear, the only place that won’t hurt.

You have an IV drip going into your arm, painkillers, an ECG monitor to the left. The room is white but busy, you’re a burst of colour against it all, your cuts and bruises, the evidence of violence he can’t remove. Aaron’s tired. He perches on the gap of bed by your leg and holds your hand, turning to Jack, who watches with a frown.

“She’s sleeping,” Aaron says.

“When can she come home?”

“In a few days.” He feels the pad of your hand, terrified of your broken finger but needing to hold a part of you.

“Why is she sleeping all day?”

Traumatic experiences are exhausting. “I think she might want to be alone, so she sleeps.”

“Should we go?”

Aaron shakes his head. “I think we should stay. When she wakes up again she’ll be happy to see us, because we’re not strangers.”

“We’re family,” Jack says. He’d liked that, when the nurse asked you how Aaron was related to you. Family only.

“We’re her family,” Aaron agrees.

If he somehow miraculously fell out of love with you, you’d still be family to them. You’ve given so much of your heart since you met them. Aaron wants everything you have to give.

You wake in a slow, slow upheaval. It takes effort on your part, the opening of sore eyes, the dreary decision to face your pain. Your hand jumps in his but relaxes when he shushes you, your slimmer fingers stilling under his rubbing thumb. For a split second, you keep your gaze half-lidded, jaw soft, like you’ve been indulging in a stolen nap.

Then your breath catches and you screw your eyes tightly.

“You’re okay,” he says, quietly, and not as lightly as he means to, “you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” in quick succession.

“Hurts,” you say, and gasp, a whine stuck in your throat.

He doesn’t know what to do. Jack shouldn’t watch this but he can’t leave you alone. “It’s okay,” he says, holding your wrist to stop it climbing up your bruised face.

You were worse the first time you woke up. Catatonic, then sobbing. You mumble and whimper now, pain threading goosebumps down your arms.

“It hurts too much,” you say. A sob falls out of you like you’ve been ripped open.

Aaron doesn’t think, but an instinct sparks. The pain, to hit you right out of the gate like this, to make you say something like that when you’ve always always made your problems small, must be torture. It must feel new and sudden all over again.

Aaron checks that Jack is alright and leaves the room. He looks down one hallway and then the other, but there’s no nurse around —he races to the reception desk and begs the two nurses there for help with you, “She’s in intense pain,” he says, grasping the desk.

The nurse he’s more familiar with clears her throat. “Mr. Hotchner, she’s already had enough motrin for two people at your request, she really shouldn’t need–”

“Pain is just as important to treat as the injury.”

A second nurse puts her salad down with raised brows. “Do you want to overdose her?”

“Excuse me?”

Aaron has always seen himself as a gentleman, but the argument that ensues is tricky to navigate while remaining respectful, and he’s no closer to better treatment for you by the end of it. He gives each nurse a disapproving glower and takes his phone from his pocket, turning on the spot, ready to call whoever it is he needs to call for a second opinion. He’s not gonna listen to you cry when there’s no need.

He pushes the door open with the phone still clutched in his other hand. Jack’s climbed onto your bed. He cuddles your face, sitting by your pillows and bent over you protectively.

Aaron lets out a breath.

“It’s okay,” he says, his arm behind your head and his arm on your shoulder. “W’gonna take care of you.”

“I know,” you say, crying without sound, shaking under his arms.

His cheek smushes against your forehead. Your eyes are closed and your face braced for contact Jack doesn’t make, careful not to hurt you as he rubs his cheek into your skin. Your blankets are falling off of you from the squirming and your bruises shine with tears in the light, but Jack has calmed you down some.

Aaron shouldn’t have left Jack with you. He’s been so scatterbrained since he found you when he should be the opposite, but Jack is doing better than Aaron managed alone.

“I’m sorry for crying,” you say slowly. “I’m hurting, but it’s not bad. I’m okay.”

“That’s good. You have a big scratch on your face, and bruises.”

“I know.”

“Dad says you have a bruise on your tummy too.”

“I got lots of bruises, but it’s okay. Don’t worry about me.” You bring your hand up injured and uncaring to rub his leg. “You’re being a really brave boy, thank you.”

A tear rolls down your cheek.

“It’s teamwork,” Jack says. “I hug you and you hug me.”

“Is that what you want? You want a hug?”

“I want to go home,” he says, hugging you harder.

You grasp his arm loosely where it’s just under your chin. “Jack, can you move your arm?” you whisper.

Your breath comes quickly, but Jack moves his arm away from your bruised neck and you try to calm yourself down.

Aaron jolts himself back into action. “Sweetheart,” he says, rushing to sit Jack back and give you more space. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He watches. Not sure what to say. Not sure saying anything is wise. You squint at him through your lashes, eyes opening slowly, your mouth a line pressed hard to stop from crying.

“I think it's time for Jack to go home,” he suggests gently.

“Yeah,” you say, eyes swimming with tears.

“No.” Jack squeezes your head again, to your panic.

“Jack, buddy, please don’t touch her neck,” Aaron says, grabbing Jack from your pillow.

He erupts into tears again. Frantic and vying for you, Aaron tries to calm him and he kicks against his chest, tears turning to disgruntled sobs at not getting what he wants. You wince, pressing your face completely into the pillow.

Aaron carries Jack from your room, phone in hand.

—

Is she breathing? Can she talk?

I don’t– I don’t know, I don’t– She’s breathing. Honey, can you hear me? I don’t know what to stop. I don’t know where it’s all coming from.

Where’s the worst of the blood?

It’s everywhere.

Abdominal? Chest?

I can’t tell. I can’t tell.

Mr. Hotchner, you can’t panic. Does she have a chest wound?

Yes. Yes, but–

Is she conscious? How’s her pulse? Be ready to start chest compressions.

Honey, can you hear me?

Your name said clearly.

“Hey, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” you murmur.

“If you need a minute, that’s okay.”

You cover your mouth with your hand. Emily Prentiss has a soft voice like your boyfriend’s when she wants to have it. She’s never spoken to you like this, none of his colleagues have, but since the incident, everybody treats you like you’re made of glass.

Cognitive interviews are meant to happen immediately after an accident, but you weren’t up for company. Aaron promised this would be on your terms, that Emily is the most practised, and that she’s reaped the most information from them than the rest of the team. So far, it’s worked to drag bad memories to the surface.

“Maybe we should start from the beginning.”

There isn’t a beginning. There’s just conversation. Aaron’s hand on your heart and his shaky voice, so unlike him.

“Okay.”

Emily reaches for your hand. She smiles, and her nice features get nicer. That’s another thing they all share, good looks. “Okay. What did you notice, in the kitchen? It’ll help if you close your eyes,” she reminds you.

You close your eyes.

“What stuck out?”

“Nothing,” you murmur. “I’ve been in there lots of times, and nothing ever changes.”

“Nothing? Not even the drawings on the fridge?”

“Jack’s particular about his best work, even if I think they should all be on display.”

Emily’s voice turns to a shard of itself. “What did you do? Can you take me through it step by step? Make yourself a cup of hot chocolate.”

“I never got that far.”

“What did you do?”

“I filled the kettle.”

“What kettle?”

You don’t understand the need for specificity, but you answer. “Aaron got it for me, when he… he told me he loved me, and when we got home he’d bought me a kettle and a bunch of stuff to make my being there easier. The kettle, because… he said something about superheated water. How the microwave can be dangerous, and this would be easier than a pan.”

“Alright. Okay, and what did you do after that?”

“I put the kettle on the stove.” You lit the burner, and heat kissed your palm, and suddenly the room had felt cold. “I got goosebumps.”

“When?”

“The kettle started to whistle, and it was cold.”

“And then–”

“Then he grabbed me.”

“Yeah,” Emily says softly.

You touch your nose. “I tried… He didn’t feel like a person. He didn’t feel like someone I was fighting, it was just painful.”

“Like he was quick on his feet?”

“He was silent. I didn’t hear him until I made him fall.”

“How big did he feel?”

Your stomach churns. Big. He’d felt big.

Where’s the worst of the blood?

“He said he was going to hide,” you remember.

“He said that? He said ‘hide’?

“Yeah. And he asked me if Aaron carries after hours.”

“When was this?”

It’s a headache. You try to remember more, because that’s what they need right now. If you ever want to go home, if you want Jack to go home, you need to remember more. The BAU are good, but nobody can make a map out of slivers.

“That was at the end,” you say.

“After he stabbed you?”

You wince. “Yes. After.”

“You’re doing so good,” she praises, “I just want to fill in the gaps.”

“I can’t remember. I was unconscious.”

“When Hotch found you?”

“No, before.”

“Before?” she asks.

You’re sick of sitting there with your eyes closed. Sick of your hands shaking with nowhere to hide them, and sick of feeling sick, your nausea as present as the stinging pain of your burned wrist against your sleeve each time you move.

You open your eyes and look around the conference room for something interesting. How nice would it be to think of something else for a few minutes?

“He called it handiwork when he cut me. Asked if I thought Aaron would like it,” you say, bordering monotonous as your gaze fizzles, unfocused, across the room.

“Okay, Y/N. Okay. I know you’re tired.” She reaches for your hands to squeeze at the same time. “You did really well. Any details at all are details we can use to find him.”

You’re not in the mood for talking anymore. Tears burn your eyes, waiting for a blink to set them loose.

“I want to see Aaron,” you confess quietly.

“I’ll find him for you.” Emily stands but bends, the dark of her hair a contrast to her pale face. She’s lovely, and her hand is gentle on yours. “Are you okay? Can I get you something to eat?”

So Aaron’s not keeping that to himself. “I want to see him, please.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

This is a horrible room. It’s not their fault, but the big white board is tacked with bad photos of grisly cases —currently your own. You stare at a photograph of your blood in the kitchen and don’t know what to do. Should you look away? You hadn’t realised you bled so much.

You turn your chair toward the door. Emily looks back as she leaves and smiles at you softly, but your eyes are already moving to the smaller dry erase board by the doorway. It’s ‘Hotch’s turn to clean up on Thursdays. How strange that they make the boss clean the conference room.

You can picture him picking up coffee cups and wiping down the table. You can always picture Aaron.

You can see him hovering over you, his hand pressed to the bloody mess of your hip to stop the blood.

“It’s okay,” you whisper to yourself, wanting to break from the memory, following Aaron’s example. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” You repeat it into your hands, head tilting down. You sink until your knuckles touch your knees.

That’s all he says when you panic. He’ll say it over and over again until you can breathe right. I have you, I have you, you’re okay.

He’s much quieter this time. You hear his footsteps, his familiar gait, your head pounding too hard to move. Aaron makes a sound between a sigh and a hum, like he’s saying a sorry hello as he kneels in front of you. His hand takes your face, rubs softly over your ear.

“My head’s just hurting,” you murmur.

He doesn’t respond. You sit together for some time as your mind races with bad memories, your fear a rush of goosebumps down the lengths of your arms and thighs. It’s hard not to think about what happened, mostly because you’re still a walking bruise, your stitches sting when you move, the blisters on your chest ache, all of it inescapable. But it’s your anxiety that plagues you most. You’re in a constant state of dread.

You had no idea someone could hurt you as badly as they had until it happened, and now you’re desperate not to be hurt again.

“You have to look after me,” you say eventually, throat sore with how awful it feels to say.

“Yes, I do.”

“Please don’t let me get hurt again.”

Total silence. You sniffle at his lack of an answer, only slightly comforted by his hands at your wrists now, pulling them from your face. “Let’s sit up,” he says, standing himself. “Come on, let’s sit up. You shouldn’t be putting so much pressure on your abdomen.”

You lean back and everything aches like a stretch after a long run or a bad night’s sleep.

Aaron pulls a chair next to yours. When he sits, your knees are pressed in between one another’s thighs, so close he could hug you. You might need one. He’s given you a ridiculous amount of them each day, some for him and some for you.

He has with him a takeout box and a bottle of water.

“Here,” he says, popping the seal of the drink. “Three sips.”

You feel like crying, but you drink. He opens the takeout box to reveal a normal looking sandwich already cut into two halves, but he takes a plastic knife from his pocket, peels away the wrapping, and cuts the sandwich again into quarters.

“I’m gonna be sick,” you say.

“No, you’re not. You won’t be.” He presses the sandwich flat with his hands and holds it to you until you take it. “Please, Y/N. You only have to eat what you can.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Please.”

“Did Emily tell you about my interview?”

He reaches for your thigh. Mildly unlike him when you aren’t at home. You assume it to be a tether for your sake. “No. Is there something you think I should know?”

“I don’t want to say it again.”

“Then you don’t have to. Someone will tell me when I get back.”

You pinch the fluffy bread in your hands, eyeing wearily at the wet insides. “Can I come with you?”

“You’re having trouble in the cognitive interviews, you won’t want to hear what we have to say.”

You split the sandwich in half again, watching as salad and mayonnaise ooze from the bread.

“If you don’t eat, you won’t get better,” he says, a touch stern.

“I can’t eat when you won’t let me come with you.”

“I’m not the only person capable of protecting you. I…” He circles your wrist before you can make a mess. “Can you please eat it?”

You take a bite to appease him, your stomach roiling, food wet and cold on your tongue. You eat the whole quarter queasily, a lump at the back of your throat begging you to stop.

Aaron takes an empty hand and rubs it tenderly. “Thank you,” he says, that rubbing turned more forceful, his hand journeying to your elbow and back again.

It’s sweet how attuned he is to your needing his touch, but mortifying. This entire experience had been embarrassing from start to end. Couldn’t defend yourself, can’t get to grips with it, and can’t keep anything down. Aaron looks at you and your bruises and you wonder if he’s seeing you with blood matted in your hair, or hearing you beg for him to get you something stronger. All you’d wanted was a sedative.

“I’m far from the only person capable of protecting you,” he says.

“You saved me,” you say. You mean it in every sense of the world.

“…This is my fault.”

“I want to be with you,” you say honestly. “I don’t feel okay by myself right now, I just need you, or I feel so sick I wish that I died.” The anxiety is marrow deep.

Aaron looks gutted. “Don’t say that.” His hand goes back to yours, back to tenderness. “I know you're scared.”

“Then why won’t you listen?” you ask weakly.

“I’m listening to you,” he says, his tone a dulcet, pleasing softness you’ve never ever heard before, “I need you to be safe, and I need Jack to be safe, and I can’t do that while he’s still out there.” His brows pinch together, agonised. “I’m sorry you’re scared. I didn’t protect you. But I won’t let anything happen to you again.

“I love you. Please believe that I’m doing what’s best for you right now.”

You turn your head away. He cups your cheek regardless.

“I love you,” he says again.

“I know.”

“No, I love you.”

He’s saying sorry.

“I love you,” you mumble back.

“How are you feeling? Is anything hurting more? Weeping?”

Your eyes are heavy at his touch. “You only looked at me a couple of hours ago.”

“Alright. Can I kiss you? I need to go.”

You don’t answer. Aaron kisses your chin, your jawline, the type of roving, teasing kisses he’d give as he squeezed your sides, only he doesn’t squeeze you, he can’t without hurting you. His hand hesitates just above your deepest wound.

His bright kiss works to spark a modicum of life back into you. Not a lot, but enough. It was likely his intention, some quick prodding kisses to remind you of something happy between you both.

You curl your fingers over his hand and turn your face for a chaste peck. He smiles, the curve of his lips evident and relieving against yours.

“Someone will take you back to the safe house, okay? Give Jack a kiss for me,” he says.

You nod. Aaron strokes your cheek.

—

Your assailant could have killed you while you were vulnerable, but he didn’t. “He assumes he’ll have another chance,” Emily surmises.

“That’s cocky,” JJ mutters.

“It’s telling,” Aaron says. “But he won’t.”

The coaching has been extensive. You, sick, a breath from tears and hurting, your shoulders in his hands and his grip too tight. If someone tells you I’m dead, you wait. If Morgan tells you I’m dead, you ask Rossi. If he says I’m dead, you ask Emily. You can’t believe the first thing someone says. No one is going to move you from this safe house to another without seeing me first. If I do get hurt, you and Jack will be moved separately. You will always get my confirmation before you’re moved.

I’m not gullible, you’d said, wincing at his sharp tone.

It’s not about that. People will lie, and they will lie well. They will talk their way into the house if you let them. You can’t let them.

I won’t.

He’s racing against a countdown, because no matter what he says, what you know, or how many agents wait outside your house, sometimes it’s a force of will.

Foyet didn’t need much more than that.

He admittedly feels on surer footing knowing where you are. The decision to guard you without putting you in WITSEC is aching and scary but better, too. He knows where you are. He can be there in ten minutes. No guessing games, but no hiding for you either.

Your dread is taking over everything you do. Today’s the first day since you came home almost two weeks ago that you could function without a live-in nurse or Jess there to look after Jack, and already he’s worried, because he’d convinced you total honesty was what’s best for the both of you, and so your texts are candid.

One an hour for his sake, more if you're up to it.

Threw up my beta blockers. Jack misses you, he wants to make you a Lego boat and fishing rod, but I’m not sure how to do it. Please make sure you eat dinner.

Your next message makes him smile, thankfully. I’m kidding about the dinner thing. Ha. I had one of those gels you got for me, and Jack wants fries, so I’m making waffle fries.

He texts back quickly. Eat dinner. Please tell Jack I miss him too, and don’t worry about the boat, he’ll work it out. Then, feeling awful, he adds, I love you

Aaron should go home. He’d feel better if he knew he was there to help you keep your medication down, but if he leaves… He knows his team will give you everything they have, but he has more. He can fix this.

He can’t fix this, god, his head hurts badly. You’re covered in cuts and bruises and burns and he thinks he can make up for that? You’ve been brutalised. Aaron can’t believe this is happening again.

He rubs his brow.

“You okay?” Emily asks.

When he looks up, JJ is gone.

“I’m fine.”

“It’s okay if you’re not.”

He’s not fine, but he knows what she’s asking. “I’m okay enough to do this,” he says.

It’s hard not to confuse you with memory, your hurting similar to his own, your situation one that he’s already lived. Haley will haunt him for life. It doesn’t usually feel as punishing as he fears he deserves: he gets to remember the best parts of her everyday. He sees her in Jack all the time. He sees her in you, occasionally —you’ll touch his hair or rub his arm like she would’ve done, and it doesn’t make him miss her any more than he does, he’s not in the business of wishing you weren’t yourself, he loves you, but he remembers her. Aaron remembers how he failed her every day.

He can’t fail you, too.

“Is it ever easy?” Emily asks.

Aaron looks around for a bottle of water. “Is what?”

“Being in love.”

He thinks about it. “I must make it look hard.”

She laughs softly. “Sometimes, yeah.”

Maybe that’s not fair, then, to you. For him to make it seem difficult to love you. To fail to correct Emily when she asks.

He chooses his words carefully. “Loving her is the easiest thing in the world. But… I continue to work a job I know makes me hard to love in return.” And that puts you in danger.

It doesn’t feel wrong to be sincere. Perhaps it’s easier with Emily. She saw so much of him during Foyet, and she’s family, truly. He can tell her how intense it’s felt.

“Well, it doesn’t seem hard for her,” Emily says.

He shakes his head.

She continues regardless, “Even during her cognitive, she mentioned the first time you told her you loved her. When it was over she wanted to see you over anything else.”

But I put her here, he wants to say. Or doesn’t want to say at all, but instead knows with surety.

“She can’t eat if I’m not home,” he says. What a thing to do to someone. “It’s my fault.”

Emily smiles, hair slipping off of her shoulder as her expression turns to playfulness. “I think you’re seeing it all wrong. Something bad happened to her, and you’re so safe to her that you make it better when you’re with her. That’s not fault, Hotch. Just love.”

He turns his attention back to the board without another word.

—

When the day comes, when they find the man who hurt you, you’re sitting at home with Jack Hotchner in your lap. You’re laughing at his laughing, cartoon fish on the TV, and Aaron’s got a gun in his hand fifty miles away. You both giggle, nearly in hysterics as the safe house living room glows pink and red, Jack’s favourite character swimming hurriedly across the screen, as Aaron negotiates the arrest.

Usually capable of mediation, Aaron finds his patience completely unravelled. He offers the UnSub two choices: he surrenders now, immediately, and he keeps his life, or he deliberates and Aaron kills him.

He has reason to believe the UnSub will try again, of course. Will keep hurting you until it sticks.

He goes home satisfied.

“Dad’s home!” you say excitedly, your movie long finished, your thighs numb and stitches stinging where Jack has leaned against you. You encourage him off of you as the front door closes, the cold air from outside rushing in.

“Honey?” Aaron calls.

“Yeah!” You stumble into a standing position, sure you look about as disgusting as you have since the situation began, promptly sitting back down as head rush hits.

Jack races for the door, meeting Aaron in the hallway with a whoosh. “Hey!”

“Hi, junior g-man, what are you doing?”

“We watched Finding Nemo,” Jack says, “and now I’m hugging you, duh.”

“Duh. Well, I need to talk to Y/N for five minutes. Can you wash your hands for dinner?”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine.”

You hear the sound of a light kiss, and then Jack rockets across the hallway and up the stairs. Aaron walks into the doorway, tie still knotted but with no suit jacket, and you know what he’s going to say before he says it. He wears a strange expression.

“You got him?” you ask.

He puts a white bag on the coffee table, looking down at you fondly. “I got him.”

“How did you find him?”

He crouches down in front of you. He’s so careful to be harmless to you now, so tentative. “You’re not the only woman he hurt. We dealt with him in the past. From the information you gave Emily during your interview, and the information he left behind, we found him… If you weren’t as brave as you are, I couldn’t have kept you and Jack safe.” He holds your knee. “Thank you.”

You stare at him. Staring, wondering what he means. “Brave?”

“Brave.”

“I’m a coward.”

He shakes his head. “No. You’re not.”

All you've done for days is cry and throw up and bleed, literally. You’ve ruined clothes and sheets, thrown up in his lap, terrified and aching. Each time was met with the same gentleness. A kiss on the cheek, or a hand rubbing your back. Is that bravery? You feel like a baby.

Aaron’s brow is relaxed. He takes your two legs into his hands, and he looks at you with a reverence that leaves you breathless.

“You’re hurt forever because of me,” he says quietly, you strain to hear him, “because of who I am, and what I choose to be.”

“How can you say that? It’s not your fault.”

“It wouldn’t have happened to you if I hadn’t missed his MO the first time.”

“You’re not putting the knife in anyone’s hand,” you argue.

“But it keeps happening.”

His hair shines dark and wet. It must be raining outside, the safe house walls are thick, the windows shuttered permanently, you haven’t heard a peep. You stroke it back from his forehead.

“Remember… when we first got together, and you told me you were sorry for how hard being with you could be. And I said it was okay, that it wasn’t hard, and you said it would be?”

“I remember,” he says, practically mouths.

“I was so afraid when...” You swallow roughly. “I still am. But not– not of you. Not of what you can do. When you told me it was going to be hard, I thought, well, it’s worth it, because I really liked you then and I love you now.” Tears collect in your eyes. Safe. I’m safe. “And you look after me, so– so–”

You stop as your voice turns to glass, worried you’ll make a fool of yourself and cry in his hands.

“I didn’t want this for you,” he says.

“Nobody wants this. Bad things happen to everyone, but who has someone like you to look after them?”

He breathes out heavily. “Please… don’t cry.”

You wipe your cheeks, taking a lengthy pause before you say, “I’m okay now.”

He looks at you in silence.

“Come and sit with me,” you say, scrubbing your cheeks, hot tears cooling on the backs of your hands. “Your knees.”

He actually smiles. It changes his entire face. “What about my knees?”

Aaron sits on the couch next to you atop Jack’s blanket, a bag of pretzels tipping between your leg and his. You attempt to rake his damp hair into submission as his fingers run against your thighs, fishing for pretzels to put back into the bag.

You’d like for him to grab you and kiss you harshly, give you one of his straight jacket hugs, some roughhousing, but you won’t get that from him until you're better, and even then, it’s up in the air. So much has changed.

But not everything.

“I love you,” you murmur, fingertips scratching down behind his ear to the back of his head.

He turns to you, sagging with relief and exhaustion. “Kiss?” he asks quietly.

You nod. He holds your cheek, and you close your eyes at the same time for a kiss. It’s not a lot, but you have time. He can give you another one when you’re both better recovered.

He pulls away. You open your eyes, finding his closed, his face downturned. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Was Jack good?”

“Jack’s always good.”

“Did the nurse have anything to say about your chest?”

“She said it’s healing okay. That I need to use, uh, scar patches when they start to scab.”

“I can get those.”

“I know, I knew you would.”

He gathers you up for a hug. For a moment, you think he’ll move on, that the end of your nightmare will kill his remorse, but he breathes in, nose wedged against your cheek.

“Do you think that tonight, we could pretend it didn’t happen?” You’d like to just sit with him, press your hand to his chest and doze. It’s the first night in a while that you’ll feel completely.

“Yeah. I can do that.” He hugs you rather tightly. “Do you want to see your present?” he asks, relaxing his grip.

“My present?”

He grabs the bag on the coffee table and places it in your lap. “I’m worried it’ll remind you of bad memories, but I wanted you to have nice things then, and I still do.”

In the bag, there’s a pair of pyjamas. Very different to the ones you’d been wearing when you were attacked, they were girly and sweet, soft in your hands, these are sturdy. Still soft, but thick. The shirt is short-sleeved and the pants cuffed at the ankles, a hoodie tucked underneath them, and a packet of minky socks.

“Thank you,” you say.

Thanks for everything, for saving you twice, for taking care of you at your worst, and for wanting you to have something comfortable to wear at the end of it. To have experienced an abjectly cruel battering will leave its marks in your forever, but you meant what you told him. He looks after you, and you love him.

He kisses your shoulder. “You don't need to say that.”

He doesn’t add anything else, his nose pressed to your shoulder, his hand on your hip. Whatever goes unsaid can be felt in the other’s touch.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thank u for reading!! it’s been a long time since I wrote a fic for hotch and it’s hard to write him being vulnerable but I hope this is alright anyways and that you enjoyed :D please consider reblogging if you did enjoy it (cos that way my fics get shown to more people <3) ❤️

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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gojonanami · 4 months

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❝ 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐈𝐅 𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄 ? ❞

❝ ALL THESE PEOPLE THINK LOVE'S FOR SHOW, BUT I WOULD DIE FOR YOU IN SECRET ! ❞

✧ pairing: suguru geto x sorcerer! reader

✧ summary: suguru's birthday spent with you is like a dream -- the perfect day spent in bliss, but what happens when the dream has to come to an end?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, jjk compliant au (reader is a sorcerer), domesticity, cuddling, oral (m +f), handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), improper massage technique, some angst (discussion of star vessel / premature death arc / geto's defection),

✧ wc: 3,015

The first thing Suguru felt were fingertips brushing against his cheek.

“Morning, birthday boy,” you murmured, and his almost violet eyes fluttered still half within the grasp of the sandman, and it didn’t help you looked as if you were the thing of dreams — your body clad only in his white button down, hair askew from your late night with him, and eyes filled with utter love and devotion, “finally waking up? Because I have a whole day planned for you,”

His lips curl despite the sleep that weighed on his eyelids, a hum leaving his lips, as his fingers find you, even with his eyes closed — just as he always could, his fingers curling around your wrist, as he expertly tugged you and wrapped his arms around you. You were caged in around his limbs, pressed to his chest with barely any space to move, you’d be scared, if wasn’t exactly where you wanted to be.

You sigh, burying your face in his chest, lips brushing the skin of his bare chest, “Sugu, come on, we can’t laze all day, I have a nice breakfast planned, and we’re having lunch with Satoru, Shoko, and Nanami later, and I have a million other nice things planned — none of which we can do if you don’t get out of bed,”

“But you forgot something,” it’s his turn to sigh, as he shifts his face to rest against your neck, nose nearly tickling the skin there, as his lips press butterfly kisses, dotted like constellations along your neck and collarbone — as if he find the all the universe had to offer between the space of your neck and shoulder, “my favorite thing to do is right here,”

You roll your eyes at the innuendo, a knowing smirk on his lips, one you didn’t need to see to know it was there — it was done against your neck after all, “If I recall, we did plenty of your favorite thing last night, and it’s the reason you’re probably so tired right now,”

His fingers begin to toy with the buttons of his shirt that you’d stolen, “Well, they say you can never have too much of a good thing, after all,”

“Oh, is that so?” and his lips find yours again to swallow your next retort, his lips gliding against yours and he can taste the coffee you had just had, the bitter taste mixed with your sweet tongue, that flicked not so sweetly against the seam of his lips.

“You said I could have anything I want today,” he murmurs, beginning to undo the buttons one by one, as he revealed your body to his eyes — a twitch in his boxers as he realized you wore not a single thing underneath, “well right, all I want is you, for breakfast,”

Your cheeks burn, thighs pressed together, his words sending a rush of heat down to your still aching cunt, “Sugu—” but his lips find yours again, his fingers busy with teasing your nipples — rolling both between his pointer finger and thumb, “fuck, baby—”

“Gotta enjoy my meal baby,” his lips burn a trail of kisses down your body, his lips curling around your tit, his teeth grazing and teasing one and then the other, drawing a whimper from your lips, as he pulls his mouth away with a pop, “it’s the most important meal, and I have to start my birthday right, don’t I?”

And his hands drag down your sides, large calloused fingers squeezing your hips, as he lifts your legs to hook around his shoulders, his dark gaze devouring the sight of your pretty cunt glistening with your slick, before his mouth and tongue would.

His lips warm your outer lips, as his fingers tease your puffy little clit, pinching it, “Still swollen from last night,” his lips curl as you yelp in surprise, with a glare shot his way, that rolls into the back of your head as he buries his face in your sweet pussy. His nose grinds against your clit deliciously, as his tongue collects the pre already drenching you, humming at the taste — how was it that you were truly his favorite thing he tasted? You weren’t exactly sweet down there, but you were the only dessert he wanted (he’d leave the actual sugar to Satoru), “seems like you wanted this too by the way you’re leaking down here, my shirt and sheet is even wet,” he teases, making you cover your face in embarrassment, “don’t worry, sweetheart,” he smiles up at you with his slick covered lips and dripping chin, “I’ll clean you up.”

“You don’t have to do this for me,” Suguru says, but you only shake your head, meeting his gaze in the mirror, with a roll of your eyes.

“I want to do this for you,” as your fingers continue to comb his dark locks, finger twirling one strand between his fingers, “plus this is more for me than you, you never let me play with your hair at Jujutsu Tech,” you pouted, and he snorts.

“First, you said ‘play,’ not do, and second, do you forget the first and only time I let you, Shoko, and Satoru do my hair?” and you stifle a laugh, badly disguised as a cough, as you lips part to answer, “don’t lie, I know you guys use it as your group chat photo,”

“I only wanted to put clips and a scrunchie in your hair — dying your hair was all Satoru—” and his sharp look cuts you off, as you relent, before running your fingers through his hair, and easing another knot from his locks, “well isn’t this nice though?” and he nods, after your lips graze the edge of his hairline, “we’re almost done and you can tie your hair up after,” you hum.

“Do you like my long hair?” and he meets your curious gaze in your reflection, “I mean, i decided to grow it out after we graduated, but I was wondering if you ever thought I should cut it,”

You purse your lips, scrutinizing him in contemplation, “I love your hair either way, but you were always so meticulous about cutting it the same length, so why did you decide to grow it out?” His eyes fall to his lap, and he swallows, “you don’t have to—” you say softly, and his fingers find yours, squeezing.

“I want to,” he echoes, as he bites his lip, “I heard when I was a kid that hair holds memories, and ever since Amanai and Haibara…I don’t want to ever forget them,” and he toys with a strand between his fingers, “And by keeping my hair longer, it feels like I can hold onto that, onto them,” he says softly, and you nod, “I know it’s not logical—”

“Not everything has to be logical, not everything has to have a reason,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his cheek, wrapping your arms around his neck, “sometimes things can just be a thing you do — but either way, if you cut your hair or keep it long, I don’t think you’ll ever forget those two, and neither would they — ever,” and he turns to meet your lips in a slow kiss, your fingers ghosting his cheek, before you finally part, “come on, get dressed, we’re going to be late.”

~~~~

“You told me he liked strawberry sponge and cream cake,” you punched Satoru in the shoulder, who takes it if only to appease you, with a pout, “you said that’s what he wanted this year, you blue eyed freak,”

“It is! How was I supposed to know he’d lie to me?”

“You know him for how many years and you can’t tell it was a lie?”

“You’re his partner, you don’t know what cake he likes—”

Suguru rubs his forehead, as you and Satoru continue to bicker, as he pulls a lighter out, and offers to light Shoko’s cigarette, as she leans on the windowsill of one of the open windows, “Those two never grow up do they?” and Suguru snorted, leaning against the wall next to her, facing the spectacle you and Satoru were making, “why did you say strawberry cake?”

“Because it’s both of their favorites,” his eyes slide to those two as Satoru used his infinity only to infuriate you, “I always had thought those two would have made a better match,”

He feels Shoko’s eyes slide to him, “She loves you, not Satoru,” and his eyes find yours, just as they always did, and you smile the one smile he always hoped would be reserved for only him.

“I know.”

“Did we have to stay that long?” Suguru sighs, pulling off his jacket, “who slipped alcohol into Satoru’s plastic cup anyway?” and your pause gives it away, as he glances at you, pulling off your shoes, “sweetheart, you know he can’t handle his alcohol,”

“Well someone should’ve handled their job right then,” and he laughs, as he walks over to wrap his arms around you, as you grumble, “you ask Mr. Six Eyes to do something — and he can’t even see through a lie, so are we really buying that he actually has them—”

And his lips find yours again, his hands sliding down to your hips to pull you closer, “I believe you owe me a present still,” he kisses down your neck, and he feels you melt into his touch, your fingers splaying on his shoulders, “and I know exactly what I want,”

“Well, I may have gotten you something a little different,” your lips curl.

“A massage?” he raises an eyebrow, as you strip him down to his boxers on the bed, a few towels underneath him as you warmed the massage oil with your hands. He heard the squish and squelch of your fingers, and he felt his dick twitch, the noise sounding like something else.

“You don’t relax enough, this way, I can help you relax a little,” you hum, as you stand beside him, “can I start?” and he bites his lip, but nods.

“Go ahead, princess,” and you do — Suguru didn’t realize how many knots he had in his back, the muscles stiff and immovable at first, until you begin to work away at the bundles of stress he had accumulated. A moan slips from his lips as he feels the stress ebb away, a blush burning up his cheeks, “Sorry,”

“No complaints here, baby,” you giggle. God, he was so fucking hot like this. His muscles were glistening with the oil, each muscle becoming more relaxed under your touch, the little grunts and groans that left his lips left another knot, but this one was in your cunt.

Suguru couldn’t help let these moans escape his lips, you were making him feel so good, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to move after this, his body far too limp. Or so he thought. Your hands were traveling lower and lower, until they brushed against the waistband of his boxers, and he shivers, “Sweetheart,”

“What? You carry stress here too, and as your masseuse, I have to do a good job right?” you hum, “as long as my client permits me,”

And he bites his lip, “I’ll permit anything from you, baby,”

You don’t need any more words, as your fingers pull at the boxers, tugging the fabric down to reveal his ass, your fingers first ghosting over the flesh teasingly, before beginning to massage it.

Fuck, now he was fully hard, his dick rubbing against the mattress — thank god you put down towels — as you worked out the knots in his gluteus muscle, but he didn’t know if you were helping him relax or not, because he never had felt more stiff. And it doesn’t escape your notice.

You hum, “Maybe we need a different method,” your finger traces up and down your spine, “would my client mind turning over for me?”

“Princess—”

“Just one more thing to help you relax,” and he relents, turning over, to reveal the tent in his boxers, still drawn over his front, and your eyes fall to his cock, “and I see where all the stress has gone,” you tsk, as you climb onto the bed, straddling his waist, drawing a gasp from his lips, “poor baby, all worked up still?” Your fingers traces his clothed head, a large wet patch that assuredly wasn’t massage oil, “I think I can relax you.”

He’s biting his lip as he watches you tug down his boxers, fabric dragging against his erection as you do, slapping against his stomach, “Sweetheart—“

“Just let me do this for you, baby,” you murmur as you clean your hands with a rag and instead smear the beads of precum along his length, drawing a groan from his lips, “so sensitive for me, Sugu, been wanting me since morning haven’t you?” You hum, as you begin to work his cock with your hand, lips leaning down to press a kiss to his weeping tip, “it’s only fair if I get to taste you too — after all, I may have been your breakfast, but you’re my dessert,”

And your lips wrap around his length, tracing his slit with the tip of your tongue, and tasting his salty precum. He groans, the noise burning a trail to your cunt, “s’good for me,” you murmured against him, as you took as much of him as you could, taking the rest in your hands.

His fingers weave into your hair, hips lightly bucking into your mouth, the tip of his cock brushing against your throat, and you manage to suppress your gag reflex, “shit, sorry—“ but you cut off his apology by licking a thick stripe up one of his veins, before hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, “fuck, Princess, I’m close—I—“ and your fingers toy with his balls and your mouth redoubles his efforts, until he’s cumming down your throat with your name on his lips, his thick load painting your mouth and throat, as you swallow it eagerly.

He flutter open, only to watch you pull your swollen lips from his length, strings of spit and cum still connecting you to his cock, before you wipe it away, “don’t worry baby,” you lean down to lick the beads of cum dripping from his tip, his hips jerking, “I’ll clean you up,”

And after you get him all cleaned up, the two of you are in bed again, tucked up next to each other — Suguru was completely boneless, as you climb into bed beside him, “you okay baby?”

He nods, smile on his lips, “More than okay after that,” he murmurs, lips finding yours, and then he pulls away with a pause, “but I didn’t get you off, baby,” and his forehead furrows as you chuckle.

“Worry about that tomorrow, baby. I think you need some sleep now,” you crawl into his arms, your head pressed against his chest, you were so warm pressed against him, “got all I need right here,” you murmur, before you ask, “did you have a good birthday?”

“I always do,” his fingers graze your cheek, as his eyes flutter shut, “always when I’m with you, Princess,”

The first thing he feels, again, are soft fingers against his cheek, his eyes heavy with sleep, flutter open, as his brain catches with his body.

“Master Geto? Master Geto?” His eyes finally flutter open to find Nanako and Mimiko at his bedside.

He rubs at his eyes, as he stares at a ceiling for a moment, as he lets the haunting feel of your body slip from him — for a moment, he had let himself believe it was real — that you were with him, that he was still with you — all of you.

“Happy Birthday, Master Geto,” they both intone together, and his gaze slides back to find the girls’ holding a birthday cake box. He blinks a moment, before he realizes.

“Thank you both,” he sigh, sitting up, and even though he knows, he asks the question anyway, “it was left at the doorstep of the compound?”

“Yes, the same one, the one that’s always left for you,” Mimiko answers as Nanako hands him the box, and he slips off the twine and opens the box to reveal a strawberry and cream sponge cake, “I didn’t know Master Geto even liked strawberry cake,”

And he chuckles, as he stares at the cske, the residuals unbidden and clear as day who had left it — who had always left it, “I don’t but it was the favorite of two people very important to me before — you know I don’t care for sweets,”

“I thought you didn’t care for sweets made by monkeys,” Nanako said, typing on her phone, before she snaps a picture or two of the cake, “why is this an exception?”

“Because one of those special people baked it, and she’s a sorcerer,” and you always had — every year without fail. He didn’t even know how you had found him — he didn’t tend to stay in one place for too long, but you always did.

As he lifts the cske out and hands it to the girls, “go slice it up and have a piece,” he smiles, “I’ll take care of the box,” and they nod, as Mimiko takes the cake while Nanako walks out staring at her phone still.

It wasn’t the cake that he found special, but the card that was hidden at the bottom. It was nothing special — always a random card picked out with a birthday message printed on the outside — but no, what was special was the note you wrote.

My favorite treat for my favorite birthday boy — I hope you have a good birthday — with your name signed below.

His fingers twirled a strand of his hair, still far too long, as he traced your name with his finger. He hadn’t had a really good birthday — not without you.

But, he opened the drawer of his bedside table, placing the card inside with the others, at least he could dream of one.

✧ a/n: i've been hopping between my sukuna fic and prof geto 3, but i was bouncing back and forth between whether i wanted to write this or not, but i just had to for suguru - man has claimed a sweet spot. thank you to the anon who's idea i put on a spin on and @biancaness, who provided the massage idea :). this is also for @gaylatteart because their birthday is tomorrow, the day after suguru's. thank you bb for being so wonderful and congrats on doing the thing - i'm super proud of you!!

✧ taglist: @foxygemin1, @honeyangelsblog, @biancaness, @rwtard, @strangehuman101, @serendididy, @i-love-the8, @ririthedevil, @linastired, @bsaeshell, @jaceum, @going-to-californiaxx, @dontshuugo, @diogodxlot, @coffeebun17, @slikdolliy, @spider-fan72, @sophistication-as, @get0sfav, @klynne, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @heijihattorisgf, @teatreeoilll, @el172736738, @nem0philistx, @strawmariee, @mysuperrainbow

#sab [mlist]#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x reader #geto smut #geto x reader #geto x you #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x you #geto suguru fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction

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daenysthedreamersblog · 4 months

Text

ONLY ANGEL

she's gonna be an angel, just you wait and see

when it turns out she's a devil in between the sheets

and there's nothing she can do about it

summary: you've been 'betrothed' to felix ravinstill since before he could remember, and as that official engagement day draws closer coriolanus is tired of pretending you don't belong to him

parings: academy!coriolanus snow x academy!reader

warnings: MDNI! swearing, mild violence, infidelity, smut, thigh riding, fingering, oral sex, p in v sex, lil exhibitionist kink, mild daddy kink, breeding kink, discussion of murder, reader is a huge slut for coryo, coryo is also a slut for reader, idk probs some more that i forgot

notes: this one was fun :) hope u enjoy!!!

Felix Ravinstill was his natural born enemy. He remembers deciding it when he was younger watching your small hand hold Felix's even though neither of you knew what it meant, he remembers it settling into his bones that very first day at the Academy when Felix had his arm around your waist and you had turned to look at Coriolanus, a small smile on your lips, a cherry sucker in your teeth as you spoke with the voice of a candy coated temptress, "Hi Coryo."

He hated Felix Ravinstill for having you, always had, always will. Today, he especially hated him. It was an ordinary day, most of the students crammed in the academy library to work on their most recent assignments. That's why he was there, stack of books next to him, mindlessly staring at a blank sheet of paper. He could hear the rest of his table too loudly to focus, hear as Festus made some crude joke, listen to how Arachne told him off, as Felix's hand was making its way over to you.

You.

Sweet, pretty thing you. He didn't understand what you saw in Felix enough to let him touch you, nor anyone at that table. But that was the only reason he truly hung around that crowd of elite children, so he could slither in closer to you.

You.

With your cherry sucker rolling between your lips, Felix's hand around the back of your chair as you leaned back the top buttons of your uniform shirt undone, sweat glistening slightly along your chest. It was a hotter fall day, the AC not working in the library, but he didn't mind, not with how revealed it made you. He glanced down, his pants uncomfortably tight as he imagined what your sweat would taste like. He sighed readjusting himself glancing up to see you looking at him. Felix was looking down at a book Festus was showing him as Arachne scribbled something down on a sheet of paper.

You pushed it into your cheek, tongue peeking out at the movement, your fingers dancing on the edge of the white stick. His eyes darkened as the wicked smile played on your lips, he knew you did things like this on purpose; sweetest torture one could bear. He palmed his hard cock, eyes quivering with the little bit of relief it gave him and all he wanted was it to be your hand rubbing him. He wanted to drag you by your hair and slam you on this very table in front of everyone and shove his co-!

"Coriolanus." Arachne Crane drawled .

He blinked up at her, the whole table now looking at him. "Yes?"

"Are you coming to the orientation event tonight?"

The event. The first event of the school year where the Academy stuffed all its students in a room to kick off the start of the year. "Of course." He nodded. "I have to give a speech for the underclassmen." And there would be food, and probably you.

His eyes met yours for a moment as your cheeks sucked in to roll the sucker back the other way. "Always the overachiever Coriolanus." Felix joked his fingers toying with the collar of your shirt and he fought the urge to snap his wrist.

He watched as you popped the sucker out of your mouth, lips a shade redder from it, and he knew if he licked into your mouth he would taste the cherry.

Felix Ravinstill's days were limited.

He knew it would go well, his speech, it was never what he was worried about, he was top of the class for a reason, he knew most of the students didn't care for being spoken to, but he knew once he saw you it would be over for him. He knew you were out there somewhere, maybe listening to him, maybe with your stupid boyfriend's hand around your waist.

And you were, staring him down while your lips wrapped around a strawberry.

He hid his throbbing erection behind the podium.

He wanted to wrangle your neck sometimes, wanted to curse the blood pounding in his cock as he watched you drop the fruit carcass onto your plate and lick your lips. He cleared his throat, his skin too hot, trying to avoid looking to see you pick up another one.

The words felt useless and he forced himself through it letting your eyes bore into his, letting himself press his cock against the podium just to ease the pressure.

You picked up another, taking another bite a little bit of juice sliding down your chin and he fought the urge to run off this stage and lick it off, to suck your chewed up fruit into his mouth. You took your hand, wiping it off your jaw, and sucked it off your own fingers.

He wondered how your mouth would feel around his cock, how warm and soft your tongue would be against him. He wanted to fuck his cock deep down your throat until you gagged, drowning in his cum.

He cut his speech short, getting to the point to get off the stage. He busied himself with food to avoid thinking of you even though that was impossible. He would stay for an hour, eat, drink a glass of posca, and then head home before he shoved a plastic knife into Felix's throat.

You all knew each other, grown up together, and it was always set in stone that you would marry Felix. It was something older families had set up before either of you could talk. You two were always together after that, and he kept you on his arm like a pretty accessory. Coriolanus figured you probably felt indifferent about the whole thing, he had never been able to really ask you about it, and you never gave him straightforward answers if you didn't want to.

He turned finally seeing you across the room. It was cruel of you really to wear a skirt that short in front of him and have Felix's greasy fingers pawing you. A skirt he wished he could push up and bend you over in front of your stupid boyfriend. You would let him too, he knew you would, it's what bothered him the most.

Your eyes met his and held them as you took a sip from your glass eyes burning into his over the rim. You turned, whispering something to Felix, motioning to your cup, and peeling off of him walking straight for Coriolanus.

"Hi Coryo." You smiled brushing past him to where all the food was being kept along the table setting your half eaten fruit down. He loved the way you said his name, how it rolled off your tongue like golden honey.

"Hey." He sipped on his drink.

You refilled your cup, "Your speech was nice."

"Not too boring?" He joked as your body turned to face his.

You smirked against the rim. "I don't think your boring." Your lips were still red from the strawberry and Coriolanus wanted to taste that sweetness, you're so close he can smell it off of you. He clenched his fist instead. "You're the most interesting man I know."

Man. You had said man as if your loser boyfriend wasn't 20 feet away no doubt watching this whole encounter. Coryo leaned down a little closer, "I don't think Felix would like to hear you say that."

You fucking shrugged, "Then he won't." You turned your hair brushing his chest at the movement. "Bye Coryo."

This was the game the two of you played, you would make your eyes, say little comments, accident brush into him, and then you were gone leaving him achingly hard.

You were walking away hip swaying as you walked. You were trouble.

You were his trouble.

Sweet, irresistible you who was forced to leave ten minutes later by your boyfriend leaving Coriolanus to steal your plate of half eat fruit simply to taste your leftover spit and take a long walk home alone to go over what needed to be done.

"Trouble in paradise it seems." Clemensia slid down into the seat across from Coriolanus motioning to you and Felix, upset expression's on both of your faces. "Daddy must have picked out the wrong ring."

Coryo furrowed his brow, "Ring?" He knew it was coming soon, but he'd thought he'd have time to climb his own ladder to take you from Felix by right.

“Oh you haven’t head the news?” Clemmie cocked an eyebrow a sly smile on her face. “They’ve been ring shopping, or their parents have been. They'll be engaged by the end of the year.” She chuckled peering over at the two of you. “He’ll head off to University and she’ll be at home getting fat with his child.”

The food on his plate went sour. “What?”

Clemmie rolled her eyes, “Her father is pushing hard to set the marriage in place. He wants his daughter to be First Lady of Panem, and he is President’s Ravenstill’s direct heir.”

Coriolanus Snow, future President of Panem, I salute you.

Well if your father wanted you to marry the president, he was selling you to the wrong son.

He pushed his food around watching you storm away from Felix. And because he didn't like to waste food, nor look that suspicious he finished his lunch. He waited a few minutes, excused himself, and he was on his feet following where you ran off too.

He looked for a while finding you deserted at a lone table in the library.

"Hey." He said softly to not spook you.

He watched you slowly look at him expecting red eyes and tears, but instead your expression was blank another sucker in your mouth. "Hi Coryo." You still said his name so sweetly like the sugar from your candy laced your vocal cords.

"You alright?" He stopped in front of you.

"Yeah." You sighed rolling it along your teeth. He wanted to ask why you were arguing with Felix, if you truly enjoyed his company, or was this one big farce to appease your family. Instead he stared at you waiting for you to fill in the gaps themselves. You wouldn't, you never did, you never liked to reveal your cards, and he could only assume the argument had everything to do with postponing the engagement and nothing about a ring. You only cocked your head to the side hair falling over your shoulder. "Did you need something?"

He did, desperately. And he was tired of denying it to himself.

He walked over, pushed your chair back and settled his hands on either side of the chair's arms, towering over you. "Where do you get all those?" He asked finger bouncing off the stick.

You smirked up at him your knees sliding between his thighs, "My daddy." He was hard. He felt his pants fighting with his cock as he stared into your eyes. "Do you want one?"

He was sick of this game you played, and he was running out of time.

He didn't answer, but his lips parted as he reached forward and pulled the one from your mouth. He thought you were sick of the game too because you let him, let him slide it off your tongue, watching the trail of spit still attached, and into his own mouth. He pushed it past his lips feeling his cock twitch as he finally tasted that sticky sweet sucker you always had on you. "Cherry."

"Hmm." You had a smug smile on your lips as you stared up at him and slowly he felt your legs begin to part between his own. He glanced down, glanced down as your uniform skirt began to ride up bare thighs. He wondered if he reached his hand under there if he would find you naked and drenched. He thinks knows he would.

"Your boyfriend will be upset if he finds you like this." He says leaning down a little closer to you.

You feign innocence. "I'm not doing anything."

You settle into the chair more you shirt collar widening as he views the dainty gold necklace around your neck with the letter 'F' on it. His fingers go to it, tracing the letter, then he's trailing up your neck tilting your face up more by your chin. He wants to strangle you with it. "Do you enjoy teasing me angel?"

"Do you enjoy getting hard by it?" You ask back and he shoves your sucker deep into his cheek to grid his teeth. Your eyes go to the bulge in his pants.

His hand tightens on your jaw, "Let me come over."

"My daddy won't like that." You shake your head.

His cock throbs. "I don't care."

Your hand splayed against his chest as you sit up more, "Why do you want to come over so badly?"

"You know why," His fingers dig into your skin fighting the urge, forcing restraint into his body.

You move forward more your face inches from him, "Do I?"

"Because you want me to." His eyes flicker around your face. "That's why your always making those eyes at me hmm? Rubbing against me like a bitch in heat?"

Your hand goes to his wrist to pull it from your face, and then your dragging it down between your legs. He can't look away from your face, not as you trail his hand up your thighs to brush his fingers against your soaked pussy. He was right, you weren't wearing anything under your skirt and he knew it was just for him, and him alone. "I can't help it." You pout rubbing his knuckles against your folds. "You make me so wet all the time Coryo."

He curses as you shutter when his fingers bump against your throbbing clit and he losing the battle of self control. He wants Felix to find you like this, find you screaming out for Coriolanus as you cum. Instead he runs his hand along your arousal one last time and straightens up, "Let me walk you to class."

You watch with a flush on your face as he sucks your wetness off his fingers, letting it mingle with the tart cherry of your sucker still on his tongue. He's surprised you don't force him to give it back before Felix's sees. "Okay." You say standing up and he sees your own wetness sliding down your thigh. You let him tuck your hand into his arm so he could walk you out and back towards class. "I think I'll sit with you today if you don't mind." You tell him as you cross the classroom's threshold together. He's not surprised after the earlier argument you seemed to be reeling from.

You take the seat on his left when you usually sit a row down with your stupid boyfriend. And when said stupid boyfriend walks in later a glare settles in his gaze watching him look between you and Coriolanus who still sucked on your candy. Felix grumbles, but sits down anyways with no more fuss, Coriolanus chuckled silently to himself. You don't speak much more to Coryo, just mindlessly doodle on some paper with you head resting on your hand.

But then class starts, and your knee knocks into his.

At first he thinks it's an accident, but a couple minutes later you do it again leaving your leg to rest against his. He wants to reach out, rub his hand up you thigh to bury in your cunt. He wants to watch you squirm and fight the noises he was pulling from you. He wants to make you cum a row behind your boyfriend, and you would let him.

He knew why Felix kept such a tight leash around you, if this was how you behaved off of it.

By some form of grace or luck of whatever watched over Coriolanus Snow, the class assignment required partners. He usually would partner with Clemensia, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up as he turned to look at you, an expecting glint in your eye, "I'll come over tomorrow night?"

You only laughed a little, but you didn't say no. And he watched as Felix came stumbling up from his chair to grip his hands against the edge of the table where you sat like the desperate swine he was, struggling for scraps. "Come over, we can work on it together."

You frowned sweetly, almost looking truly apologetic. "Oh I'm sorry. Coryo already asked me to be his partner."

Felix's angry eyes burned into Coriolanus, "We're always partners though." He leaned forward to whisper. "If this is about our argument earlier I can just..."

"No." You patted his shoulder. "Of course not, but really I can't say no to Coryo now that would be awfully rude."

"I'm sure Clemensia needs a partner." Coriolanus added. "Sorry Felix."

Felix only motioned for you to get up so he can take you home. You stood up and smiled down at Coriolanus, "Bye Coryo."

He watched you walk away wetness still glistening on your legs, the taste of it still on his tongue.

He arrived five minutes sooner than he was supposed to. He knew your parents were home, and wanted to impress them, wanted your father to realize how much better than Felix he was, it wouldn't be a hard task. He knocked, his hand lying limp at his side waiting for someone to answer.

It was your father.

He was a wealthy man, not as wealthy as Strabo Plinth, but enough. It was all about where he had put his money during the war, investing in the right places, unlike the Snows. You kept up with the league of elite children in school, you belonged there in the thick of it all. Snow did too, but he had to work harder to keep that image and he hated that that was the only thing keeping him from you.

He reached a hand out to shake your father's hand, “Coriolanus Snow.” He introduced.

“I know.” He offered a tight smile as he shook Coriolanus’s hand. “She told me you were stopping by to help with some…assignment.”

He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

But your father never moved as he took back his hand, never invited him inside leaving Coriolanus to stand awkwardly in the door frame. “Daddy.” Your sweet voice piped in shoving past his tall frame to open the door more. “Stop scaring him.”

Daddy. It sent a cool chill down his spine as you stared up at your father. “I’m not.” He held up his hands, “ Just wondering why you need help in school in the first place.”

“It’s a group assignment.” Coriolanus added as your eyes flitted up to him. “We got paired together.”

“Oh,” You father relaxed stepping away from the door. “You can work a the table then.” He motioned to your dining room table.

You walked away from him leaving him to follow you into your home and close the door. “We were actually goi-!”

“No bedroom.” You father shot at you without even looking as he disappeared into your home.

You sighed finally turning around, you motioned to the table, “You can set your stuff down here.” You instructed. “I’ll be right back.” You left, no doubt going to gather all your school work from your room. “Are you hungry?” You asked once you returned with your piles of books and papers. You were wearing one of you cute little plaid tweed mini skirts that hugged your thighs and he knew you weren't wearing anything under it.

“I ate before I left.” He lied.

“You can stay for dinner if you want.” You sat down next to him your leg sliding against his. He knew you did things like that on purpose just to touch him, just to drive him insane as your perfume wafted into his nose. He began to protest, he wanted to stay, if only to convince your father he was the better man. “Stay, please.” You set your hand on his wrist as you smiled.

He nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you did get to work after that as he educated you through what was needed for the assignment, your shoulder against his as you watched what he wrote down. Sometimes he truly thought you never payed attention, maybe you thought you were too pretty for school and it wasn’t needed. You were too pretty for it. You didn’t need it. He knew your father had set you up with someone wealthy to ensure you have a long profitable life without having to work for it. Yet, here you were working towards it anyways. He admired it for a moment, but your hand fell on his thigh and he knew he would end up having to do the whole assignment by himself.

He didn't mind as he listened to the quietness of your house. You glanced up at him, and he met your eyes realizing how close your face was, and he knew what you wanted as you bit your lip. "Does your daddy know what a little slut you are?" He whispered.

"No." You breathed slinging your leg over his thigh to straddle it.

His hands went your thighs, "Then you better be quiet angel." He glanced down as your skirt rode up your thighs your bare cunt pressed against the meat of his leg, he felt your wetness seeping through. He leaned back, watching as you rocked your hips against his thigh. He took a second, just one second, to enjoy the feeling of your body against his, enjoy the fact you were riding him, getting off to him, then he was sliding his hands up your bare thighs to wrap around your body. You were so soft under his touch like you had bathed in rose petals. His fingers dug into your waist forcing them to roll against him harder and you made a small noise from the back of your throat.

"Felix can't get you off can he?" You whine as your clit rubs against him, the sweet friction of it all making your head fall back slightly, "No he doesn't know how to handle you does he?" He stared up at you, at your open mouth, and he runs his hand down your hair. "That's why you came crawling after me." You grind against him faster chasing your own high as your hand goes to his pants palming his hard cock through his pants.

You're such a whore, he knows that about you, he knows you hide it so fucking well and yet here you were, fucking his thigh, hand halfway down his pants when your father could come find you any second. It makes him want to slam you back on the table and sink his cock into your wet heat just for him to see, just to prove he was the man of this house, of you. "Coryo." You moan out quietly and he thinks its the sweetest way you'll ever say his name. You slid your hand down his cock. He groans out taking in the sight of your hand working him, swirling your hand around the shaft pre-cum leaking out of the tip.

He wants to bury his face into your mouth, your neck, your breast, but he can only watch you, watch you get yourself off on top of him. He flexes his thighs the same time you tilt yourself forward and your grip tightens on him. He stares up at your face, eyes glazed over as you grind your pussy down hard against him, lip tugged between your teeth pumping his cock at the same rhythm as your body. He feels you clench your thighs and soon enough you cum, drenching his pants with your pleasure. He wraps his hand around yours to fuck your hand faster, harder, and then he's planting it against your soaked thigh to cum against you, hot white ropes of it splashing across your skin. You don't move off of him, you both sit there for a while breathing heavily against each other until you straighten up to stare down at him.

"I don't let Felix touch me." You say hands coming up to toy with the ends of his curling hair.

"Why?"

You only smile and he's never thought you looked more beautiful, sweat on your hairline, red cheeks, and his cum on your body. You glance down at the clumps of white covering your skin, and then you run two fingers through it, gathering it on your fingers, and shoving them in your mouth sucking his cum off. He's mesmerized as you groan gently popping your fingers out and licking your lips. You climb off his body to settle back into your own chair glancing down at the wetness staining Coriolanus's pants seeping down onto his skin a satisfied feline grin on your face.

Your mother came through the next second, “I’ll set the table for four?”

You smiled up at her, “Yes ma’am.”

He dined with your family, a deliciously huge meal, one he hadn’t had in a while and he wondered if your parents could smell your actions in the air. “She didn’t give you too much trouble son?”

Your father’s voice made him look up as he asked, “No sir.”

He turned to you, “Why wasn’t Felix your partner?”

“He went with someone else.” You shrugged pushing your food around.

“I’ll speak with him.” Your father said.

“Daddy no.” Coriolanus shifted in his seat at the whine. “Please don’t.”

Coriolanus cleared his throat watching both eyes snap up to him. “I asked to be your daughter's partner for this assignment, and she was too kind to tell me no.”

Your father relaxed as Coriolanus had saved you from some lecture. You gave him a sly smile as your mother chimed in, “I made apple pie.”

After desert, and a minor interrogation from your father about his plans after The Academy, you walked him to the door. He didn’t like that your father felt the need to exert his power over him. In all honestly he didn't trust your father's intelligence if he thought Felix was a good option for you. You stepped outside with him closing the door behind you. You leaned against it staring up at him biting your bottom lip. He planted his hand next to your head towering over you.

"Are you gunna kiss me goodnight Coryo?" You tilted your face up for him.

"I don't think Daddy would like that very much." His hand comes up to your chin.

You smirk, going onto your toes to brush your lips against his. "Oh I think Daddy will."

He attacks your mouth tasting the sticky sweetness that was you, always would be you. The taste of apple is still on your tongue from your mothers pie, apples and cinnamon everything that was nice layered your lips as he licked along it feeling you part your mouth for him to slip inside. His hands were in your hair pulling you closer as you braced your hands on his chest melding your lips against his. He swept his tongue into your mouth meshing it with yours. He yanked your head back to stick his tongue down your throat feeling your back arch so your breast press against him, and the salty remnants of his cum lace your molars. He nips at your bottom lips your moan vibrating through him as he sucks and tugs on it until he knows it will bruise. Then he pulls back, "Are you going to let me fuck you angel?"

You give him a breathy laugh, "See ya, Coryo." Then you disappear back into your home.

By the time next week hit you were back in your normal spot next to your boyfriend. It shouldn't have surprised Coriolanus, he knew you were just rebelling against the mold your family had forced you into, and he just happen to enjoy letting you use him.

But you turned around, that cherry sucker that tasted so good between your lush lips, and you would smile.

"Hi Coryo." You said it like you had a secret only he knew and he was sometimes forced to jack off in the men's bathroom just to take the edge off. Just to avoid wanting to fuck you right then and there in front of the whole class, and he knows you're waiting for the day he finally does it.

As he tucked himself back into his pants exiting the bathroom you were standing there, back against the opposite wall watching him. Your eyes met and he only leans his shoulder against the door frame of the bathroom. "Felix is mad at me."

He looks you up and down, "Why?"

"Because I told him you were coming over tonight." He chuckles to himself, your eyes studying him as he walks over to you.

"I am?" He asked as you trail your fingers up the buttons on his shirt.

You frown, "I'm needy."

He scoffs, "I hope that isn't the reason you gave him."

"Please," You whine your hand running down his arm to guide it to the middle of your skirt and he can't help himself, even your begging is sweet.

He guides his hand up your bare thighs, your soaked cunt greeting him like it had missed him too. "You need me that bad hmm?" He runs a hand up your center watching you tug your bottom lip between your teeth. He leans his head down taking your lip between his own teeth and sucking on it tasting that lingering cherry sugar as he pushes two fingers into you. Your mouth parts in a gasp as you part your legs more for him. "Does your boyfriend know his girlfriend is a dirty whore? Fucking soaked for me all the time?" You tilt yourself forward sucking in his hand deeper as he curls up against a sweet spot your quiet moan echoing around the empty hall. "You want someone to find us don't you, you want them to see what a fucking slut you are for me."

"Coryo." You whimper nails digging into his shoulders and he hopes you mark his skin forever. He presses his forehead to yours feeling you pant against his face as he presses his palm to your clit.

"That's right." He grazes his teeth along your jaw as he fucks you faster with his hand. "Call out my name when you cum angel." He growls out, "My angel." Because you were, his, he knew that long ago, remembering glaring at Felix when you all were children and he had his arm around you when it should have been Coriolanus. His tongue lolls against your damp skin of your neck and your hand twist in his hair as he pulls your leg up more around his waist.

It's a test of restraint to not wrap your legs completely around his waist and sink into you, to take what is so rightfully his. Instead he shifts his hand, thumb pressing into your clit to listen to your mewls, to the sound of his wet fingers dipping in and out of you at a brutal pace. He sinks his teeth into your neck rolling his tongue along the mark he knew he was giving you, and you love that it will be there.

He feels you clenching around his hand as you moaned out his name cumming against him. Your chest hits his with every panting breath as he slowly lifts his head to gaze down at you, hair slightly disheveled, cheeks flushed, blissfully dazed out from the orgasm he gave you. "I'm making cookies."

Of course you were, he groans as he presses his face into yours capturing your lips with his own hand still buried inside of you. "What kind?"

"Chocolate chip." You smirk against his lips. "I'll let you lick the spoon."

You opened the door for him this time and he wanted to yank you from the frame to run away with you forever. You wear wearing a pretty black minidress with a white long sleeve underneath it, an apron covering you, flour splattered across your cheek, and a pink ribbon tied your hair at the base of your ponytail. It's like you worked so hard to persevere girlhood and innocence to hide the adultery lurking under your skin.

"Hi Coryo." You batted your eyelashes at him as you opened the door for him more to come inside.

He did love the sound of you closing and locking the door for him, "Where's you father?" He asked watching you walk in front of him.

"Working late." You replied leading him towards your kitchen waving a hand around. "My mother is off doing something unproductive."

He leaned against your marble island watching you throw a cup of sugar into the large bowl, "They left you in here all alone?"

You chuckled, "I'm not alone, you're here with me." You cracked an egg your eyes glancing over towards his, "Do you think your parents would have liked me?"

Coriolanus looks you up and down. He thinks they would and maybe in a perfect world where he wasn't an orphan your father would have wed you to Coriolanus. "I could never take you home to mother in a dress that short." He smirks as you slowly begin to stir the batter. He sometimes was surprised Felix let you leave the house if this is how you acted, how you dressed.

"Oh yeah?" You pop your hip out a little.

He straightens up stalking over to you until your back was pressed to his chest, nose buried in your floral scented hair. "She would disown me for bringing home such a brazen slut."

"But her son loves when I dress like this." His hands find the hem of your dress as his fingers trace with the curve of your ass.

He plants his mouth against your neck, "Does he now?"

You push your ass back into his hard cock. "Oh I think he adores how I dress for him." His hand splays across your backside as his teeth graze the flesh of your jugular and he wants to sink his teeth in to stake his claim. "How I never wear any panties for him."

His nails dig into you because he fucking knew it. "All for me." He repeats sucking on your skin until you wince away hoping the mark is deep and purple and Felix knows it's from him.

You turn suddenly eyes flickering up to his face, "The trick is a little extra vanilla.” You motioned to the dough sitting on top of two fingers. "Try some." He wraps his hand around your delicate wrist and brings it to his mouth. He sucked in your fingers eyes never leaving yours as your mouth parted slightly the blush forming on your cheeks as his tongue swirled around your flesh. It tasted delicious, but your skin tasted better like sugar had ingrained itself into every pore. He let your fingers glide deeper on his tongue before he popped them out of his mouth.

"Hmm." He ran his tongue up the sides until all that was left on them was his spit.

You breath. "All for you." He's kissing you then, consuming your validation that you knew what he knew, you belonged to him. He taste the scoops of dough you had stolen, the chocolate and brown sugar mingling on your tongue and he adores that extra teaspoon of vanilla you added. He licks it off the roof of your mouth sucking on your tongue, and then your arching into him on your toes as his hands trail down your body cupping your ass as your dress rides up.

He reaches his other hand back pushing aside your large bowl of batter and then he's lifting you onto the counter loving the way he fits in between your legs. You were made for him, he knew that long ago, cut perfectly from that juicy forbidden fruit Eve ate. His hand goes to your chest kneading your breast over fabric as he slowly lowers you to the countertop spreading your legs open for him. He breaks the kiss descending down your body to peer at you decadent wet cunt. He knows you'll taste sweet down here too, his mouth waters taking in the sight.

"Oh she's pretty."

He can't help but moan into you as he licks up the center prodding your clit with the tip of his tongue feeling your hand find his blonde curls. Your feet come up around his shoulders as he passes over it gently at first savoring the taste of your arousal and knowing he would never taste anything better than you. He traces circles around it slowly feeling you squirm under his touch, hearing your pretty whines, nails scraping against his skull. He dares a glance up at you, at your agape mouth, your eyes squeezed shut as he begins to move his tongue faster.

He decides then he won't wash his mouth out tonight. He wants you stuck between his teeth forever and when tomorrow comes he hopes Felix will smell your cunt on his breath.

He tilts your hips up wrapping his lips around your clit pressing down on it with his tongue as you breath heavily beneath him. He's slithering his arm up your body squeezing your breast. "Coryo." You moan out pushing your pussy into his face more, grinding it against him. He's moving his tongue side to side, hard pressed rhythmic motions that have you a mess in his hands. Your thighs clench around him as you whimper one last time before you cum against his face. He drinks you up, everything you have to offer, lapping up what you give him as his tongue pushes into you for a moment feeling your walls spasming from your orgasm.

You yank his head up by his hair and you shoot up encasing his mouth with your own tasting yourself on his tongue as you sweep into his mouth and he groans pressing his groin into your island.

"Tell me how you like it." You pant out into his mouth teeth knocking against each other.

Coriolanus takes your expression in and he realizes, yes you never let Felix touch you, but you never touched him either. You have never touched another man besides him, saving yourself for him, and it makes him want to shove his cock down your throat even harder. He helps you off the counter onto shaky legs and your going down onto your knees in front of him. He lets you unbutton his pants and unsheathe his hard length running your hand along it.

"Put your mouth around it." He tells you as you bring it up to your lips, and you fucking lick the tip like it's one of your cherry suckers.

Then you open your mouth and wrap your lips around him sliding him inside. He always imagined what your mouth would feel like after so many times of seeing you suck on that hard little candy. It's even better than he thought. He hisses as his hips buck forward a little letting him hit the back of your throat. You bob along his cock once, twice, three times before you pop off blinking up at him with that coy little act, "You're so big Coryo."

He shoves himself back in your mouth, "Wrap your hand around it." That was all you needed to know as you worked his cock, taking him deeper, hand swirling around the shaft tongue lolling against the head. You work him faster, grip hardening around him, sucking in your cheeks as you look up at him with big doe eyes. "Fuck." He gritted out hand tangling in your ponytail to move your head against him, force his cock deeper watching the water well in your eyes, but you never stopped. "You like my cock in your mouth don't you angel? Want my cum down your throat yeah?"

You moan against him in response teeth gently grazing his skin. Your mouth too soft, too hot, hands gripping him so tightly, his hand in your hair holds harder as his thighs tighten. Your tongue sweeps out along his shaft and he's cumming, hot ropes of it shooting down your throat shoving his cock deeper to make sure you took it all.

And you did, greedily, your hand still softly gliding along him as he thrust one final time into your mouth. He wraps his finger around the ribbon in your hair and tugs it out slipping it into his pocket. You popped off, wiped your lips with your finger, and sucked it clean keeping your eyes locked with him.

His hands come around your face as you stand up. "Break up with Felix." He whispers out thumb tracing your puffy lips. He's sick of seeing you with him, not being the able to claim you in front of everyone like he wanted to.

"I have to preheat the oven." Is all you say back stepping out of his hold to go over the the oven.

He clenches his jaw, "I want Felix to know."

You shrug, your back still to him, "Then tell him." You turn after turning on your oven. "It won't change anything." You walk towards him a hand coming up to push his curls away from his face, "Unless..." You peered up at him manipulative innocence in your eyes. "You were the President of Panem."

Coriolanus couldn't get enough of you at that point, he had become addicted to your sugar sweet taste and once was never enough for him.

All it took was one little smile while you licked up the red ball of your cherry sucker, and he was pouncing on you, meeting you in the hallway every time.

In between classes he would shove you into random closets to force his cock down your throat. You two would time bathroom breaks unsuspectingly and he would have you up against the stall wall fucking you with his hand.

His favorite moments were when he hunted you down in the library pretending to read a book. You would look up with a little shy smile. "Hi Coryo." You'd purr and soon he'd have you sprawled out on the table like his own personal meal drinking your pleasure like it was nectar from the Gods.

He came over occasionally too, lying about some assignment or help with a test. Your mother always invited him to stay for dinner, and he would, of course, shove his hand inside you under the table until you came while he spoke to your father.

Felix was suspicious. It wasn't hard to be when you showed up with marks on your neck, the same neck still wearing that ugly 'F' necklace, and the pretty ribbon from your hair wrapped around Coriolanus's wrist. He would only glance back at Coriolanus, and Coriolanus would smirk back at him, but he never said anything.

Everything was wonderful.

Then one day things began to change.

"Let me fuck you." Coriolanus told you kissing your open mouth as you came down hard on his hand. He wanted to be inside you, wanted to trap you to him forever. You would let him.

Your head falls back against the wall, "No Coryo."

"Let me fuck you." He kissed you again. "Come on baby girl, I know you want to."

"I'm waiting until marriage Coryo." You unravel yourself from him fixing your skirt. He knows you're lying, "I'm a good girl."

He scoffed, "Yeah a real angel."

You sighed running a hand over your face. “My father is having Felix and his uncle over tonight.”

“President Ravinstill?” You cringed when he said it. "Why?"

"Because Felix thinks you're up to something and wants to speed things along." His jaw clenched, he was going to murder Felix and his stupid uncle. You flash him a smirk, "He thinks you're trying to corrupt me."

Coriolanus chuckled, "I don't play well with others."

You came closer, hand dipping under his shirt to rest against his bare chest. You kissed his jaw, "You play well with me, Coryo."

He waited outside your home watching through your windows as you ate dinner. You sat next to Felix, fake laughing, hand sometimes brushing his wrist with affection. It boiled his blood and he curses his father for dying, for investing in District 13 to make him poor. You were his. He should be sitting at that table with you planning your engagement.

He knew the only way he would take you from Felix was winning the Plinth Prize at the end of the year, going to University, and stealing that Presidency out from under him.

It was the only way.

He watched you kiss Felix on the cheek as him and his uncle left. He watched you arguing with your father, storming off no doubt to your bedroom. And then he was moving, sticking to the shadows until he was around your house staring up at your bedroom window. He scaled the wall ending up on your small balcony staring into your sheer curtains.

You looked so beautiful sitting at your vanity combing through your hair still in your dress from dinner.

He pushed the balcony door open quietly, but your eyes met his through the mirror. "Surprised you didn't storm into dinner earlier." You set the brush down. He took a seat on your bed raising his eyebrow, "I always know where you are Coriolanus Snow, even if its creeping outside my windows."

"Who gave you these?" He motions to the vase of fresh flowers.

"Felix." Your smile drips in sweetness. "My boyfriend."

You turned to him, "How was dinner?"

"Boring." You sighed leaning your elbows against your vanity. "He's going to propose after graduation." Coriolanus's blood heated. "The ring was beautiful though."

His eyes followed you as you stood, "I could buy you a better one."

Your hands rested on his shoulders as you cocked your head to the side. "With what money?" He glared at you. He didn't like that people suspected he was poor, let alone you.

"Would you say no if I asked you?"

"That's not up to me." You chuckled hands toying with the end of his hair. That 'F' necklace around your throat dangling in his face.

Coriolanus narrowed in on it, "I could just...kill your father, Felix, anyone that got in my way." He reaches up and rips the necklace off your neck hearing it clatter to the floor, broken.

You leaned down, nose pressed to his cheek, the words brushing his mouth in a sweet caress, "Then do it."

His hands went around your back pulling down the zipper of your dress feeling it loosen around your body until it fell around your feet. You stood up stepping out of the dress and Coriolanus looked up your body slowly, taking in every naked inch of your body. He landed on your face, "What do you want angel?"

"Even when you were a boy, you were a man." You slid onto his lap naked body pressed against him hands running through his hair. "I want a man. I want you."

He flipped you onto your back crashing his mouth to yours engulfing your lips with his own. You were unbuttoning his shirt, peeling it off his shoulders, running your hands down his bare chest. His tongue meshes with yours mouths gliding along each other as you burst open the button on his pants. He wants his skin against yours, to feel your warm softness against every inch of him. He pushes his pants down his legs until the two of you are nothing but flesh.

You capture his lips once more as his hand travels up your side his thumb brushing the underside of your breast. You blissfully sigh. He cups your breast, hushing your mouth with a harder kiss. His thumb passed over your nipple, rolling the pad along it, feeling it perk up to his touch a low whine in your throat that he swallowed up nails scraping against his skull. He moves his mouth off of yours trailing down your neck, tasting every sweet part of you until his mouth wraps around your perked nipple lavishing it with his tongue as your back arches pushing it further into his mouth. His teeth nip down on it, licking and sucking as your squirm under him.

He feels your wetness against his thigh and he shifts to run his hand along your folds. "Did you think about me fucking you all throughout dinner?" He presses a finger slightly against your clit. "Thought about all the pretty noises your Daddy would hear down the hall."

Yours eyes darken as you gaze into his. "I wanted you to fuck me during dinner; storm through my front door and take me in front of Felix and his stupid uncle."

"You're such a little fucking whore."

You smirked, "Daddy's little fucking whore."

He shoves his fingers inside you, lips parting at the intrusion. He wants to be inside you, wants to claim everything you are as he thrust his hand in and out of you, stretching you open, the room thick with the scent of your arousal and squelching sounds of your pussy. You buck your hips into his hand to meet him as his palm presses down on your clit and he already feels your walls clenching around him.

He presses his face into your chest, your heart thumping rapidly for him. You were breathless, your legs spreading open more for him as your body tightened around him as he brought you closer to your peak. He curls his fingers against that spot he knows you love and you came undone with a soft cry, clamping down around his hand, nails digging into his scalp. He straightens up admiring you. You looked so beautiful sweat forming across your chest, cheeks red, lips parted to catch your breath as you stared up at him. You simply glanced down at his long, hard length and then back up at him. He knows you're a virgin, knows you'll take his cock like a slut.

He lined himself up with your sopping entrance and pushed into you. He can't help but groan as he closed his eyes moving slowly into you, letting your tight walls adjust to him, squeeze around him. He pauses for a moment the only sound coming from either of you were broken breaths. And then he pushes in until he fully inside you. You gasp at the feeling, the fullness, as you gazed up at him.

Your pussy fluttered around him and he rolled his hips against you pulling his dick back and slamming back into. "You take my cock so well." You arched your back as he slammed into you moaning out for him, wrapping your legs around his body to pull him deeper. His mouth was on yours, a mesh of spit and tongue, your hands rooted in his hair as he fucked into you. He was kneading your breast with one hand, pushing the other into your mattress to fuck you harder. He glanced between you, watching his cock disappear into you soaked pussy, watching how well you took each brutal thrust. "Perfect fucking pussy, made just for me." He drags his teeth along your jaw as your breast press against his chest. He pressed his hot mouth to your ear, "You're fucking mine, you understand that angel?" His hips snapped against yours heels curling into his sides as you nod against him. "Not Felix's...not your fathers...mine." He growls in your ear.

You agree tilting your pelvis up allowing him to slid against that sensitive spot.

His curls spill across your face, he wants to hear you say it. "Say it."

Your brows scrunch as he slides his hand to your clit. You moan for him, "I'm yours Coryo." His grunts fill the room as he pounds into you as you cry out for him over and over again. He hears your bed knocking against the wall, the squeaking sound of the spring as it slides against the floor, neither of you care who hears it. You clamp down around him coming all over his cock squeezing him too tight.

"Gunna cum in this tight little pussy." He hisses out his thrust growing sporadic. "Gunna make you have my heirs." Your too fucked out to care as your teeth sink into his shoulder wanton pleas falling from your lips. He's spilling into you, cumming so deep inside you feeling your walls spasming around him, drinking in every drop of his seed. He thrust it further within you as your legs slowly uncurl from around him.

He pulls back to look at you his cock twitching one last time. "You have a lot of work to do." You tell him fingers twisting the curls along his face a devious smile on your lips and he knows you've never been an angel, not a day in your life.

You were the devil in a candied disguise.

"President Coriolanus Snow."

He will win that Plinth Prize. He will take you from Felix, from your stupid father, by right or by force.

He doesn't care what he has to do or who he has to kill along the way as long as he gets to have you at the end of it all.

PART TWO HERE!!

im a whore for those blonde curls

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x you #coryo x reader #fanfic #coryo smut #coryo snow #coryo x you #president coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #daenysthedreamersblog #smut

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yanderenightmare · 5 months

Text

TW: NSFW, dubcon/noncon, slave darling, crude and derogatory terms, classism, abuse of power, death threats

fem reader

Thinking about the poor kitchen maid who's suddenly told she's to be the spoiled Prince's new chambermaid.

It hasn’t even gone a day yet, but you already miss your job in the kitchens.

Sure, the sweltering heat of the ovens always left you in a state of fever, and kneading dough from dawn ‘til dusk made your arms acidic with burns – unyieldingly sore – not to mention never getting a chance to sit down and rest before collapsing in bed at the end of the day. But the smell of freshly baked buns and the chance to sneak a bite out of those that came out of the oven just a bit too burnt for serving had always felt like payment enough.

That and not having to deal with the royal family.

You know you should feel honored. You know it’s supposed to feel godsend to be picked to become the Prince’s personal servant. But… there was a reason he so often required a change of maid.

You still remember the last one they’d taken from the kitchen. She was pretty and young and shouldn’t have been working there in the first place – that’s what everyone used to say before she disappeared.

You wonder if such words carry curses… and what you did to deserve the same things being said about you.

You nearly cried standing outside The Prince’s chambers, chewing on your lip with his breakfast tray in hand, wondering what rumors were true – if he really was as terrible as everyone claims – wondering where the other kitchen maid went and whether you’d end up in the same place… wondering what you could do to keep it from happening.

You don’t know what you were standing there waiting for, nearly pissing yourself when you knew he was still out – busy hunting down a couple of runaway servants for sport. It was almost as though you feared the room itself, as though it would bite once crossing the threshold.

None of the sorts happened, though a gust of warm wind hit you like the breath of a beast once you opened the door.

Inside, there were around a dozen heads mounted on the wall – dragons, bears, lions, wolves, and other creatures you weren’t too sure of – all with mouths big enough to bite yours off.

You took only a second to look at them before they looked as though they’d leap from the walls and eat you alive, just like you’d predicted.

You set the tray of food down on the bedside table and walked to the bathroom to draw his bath – deciding work would keep your mind off it.

Stepping out a second later, you fixed a fire in the hearth and made to make the bed, stretching the duvet and the quilt over the massive mattress while eyeing the thread count with envy and the hand-stitching with awe. Left to wonder how many ducks had been shot to stuff the mountain of plush pillows he’d all but thrown onto the floor to make space for himself.

Walking through the steam to the bath again, you opened the cupboard to pick out soaps and oils – overwhelmed by the sight of every shelf stocked full of all sorts you’d never seen – glad you had somewhat decent reading skills – unlike many of the other maids.

Soaping the water, you sat on the edge and waited with a hand wading through the warmth – and while biting your lip, you let your mind wander again – daydream, like it so often did – imagining what it would be like to feel it on the rest of your skin, warm and smooth, sucking all the stress out and leaving you soft like a newborn.

He watched you enjoy yourself, his stark eyes calmly assessing what they saw with a tilt of his head – trailing from the tip of your worn-out shoes to the tattered edge of your grey maid’s dress, up your lap to the cinch of your waist where your white apron was bound – taking his time until your eyes fluttered open to find him standing there.

You nearly fell into the water, hopping up to a stance. “Sorry, your majesty- I forgot myself! Please forgive me.” You bowed, looking down at the muddy stains on your gray shoes – in anxious wait of his wrath.

But instead of a backhanded slap that would send you straight to the stone floor or a spit of venom which would make you flinch and cry, he spoke a calm and patient “Come here-”

Though spoken in a certain tone of authority that forced you forward in quick steps until stopping just short of him – still with eyes downcast.

“Mh, I'm glad they haven't run out of cute ones down there.” He said then, once you stood only a hair's length from him – voice just as calm as before and inspiring just as much surprise in you still, though now joined with visible confusion in the crinkle it caused between your brows. A furrow that only deepened once he reached out his hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Your majesty?” You questioned.

“It’s master.” He corrected sharply, and you grew unsure if his voice wasn’t just cold rather than calm. “I like that better. Now quit wasting my time and undress me, slave – I have important shit to attend to today.”

You wavered only a second, feeling the words like a flick to the forehead. “Of course, your majes- master. Forgive me.” You blurted with hands quickly jumping forth to help detangle the knots keeping his robes together.

Small fingers working hurriedly to appease him, setting aside the light leather cuirass upon his dresser once loosening it from his torso – wondering if you should tell him your name, though thinking better of it as he’d opted for simply referring to you as a slave instead of asking.

You hadn’t been called that in a long while – slave – never by anyone in the kitchen, at least. You’d nearly forgotten it was what you were – a slave – and not just a busy member of the crown’s staff.

You bit your lip with another bow of your head, not wanting the Prince to see your face in its hurt while you undid the ties to the braces on his arms. The castle had become your home rather than a prison over the years, but… with the echo of your title wringing in that very heavy tone of his, along with standing there – bowing your head while undressing him of all fine body armor and robes – you couldn’t suppress the reminder of being of much lesser blood and birth. A fact that – despite never before having bothered you much – somehow seemed to strangle you now.

He’d dragged mud in with his boots – and given he’d not bothered taking them off, you were left to believe he wanted you to do it for him. And though humiliating as it was, you crouched down and began undoing the laces nonetheless – further feeling degraded while caressing the boot.

You pulled it off and repeated the action with the other foot – wondering if he meant you to remove his breeches and tunic as well until he, fortunately for you, lifted the shirt off and pulled the strings to the trousers himself. Leaving the undergarments in a pool on the floor next to you.

You kept your eyes down until he was completely submerged in the water, afraid to see something you weren’t allowed to – before getting up and padding back to the cupboard. You'd never been any lady's or lord's maid before, but you had been trained in the duties – and though heat rose to your cheeks at the thought of those duties, you still made to grab the soap and loofa in shakey hands before kneeling down on the stool next to the tub.

You’d never seen the prince if not from afar atop the castle balcony during speeches by his mother, the Queen – and had only ever heard of his appearance as something twisted and foul – but looking at him with his eyes closed, he really didn’t look as demonic as people had made him out to be. But further thinking about it, scrubbing his chest with soap and water and oil – you realized that none of those people were likely to have seen him up close either.

He looks every bit royal with his strength of face – cutting edges as though carved in marble, with chiseled muscles gleaming in the water and oil.

He was no doubt very handsome, you concluded silently – finally understanding why he was more of an eligible prince than what his attitude would otherwise allow – that, along with the kingdom’s riches, of course.

He sagged forward while you mindlessly amused your findings – though paying attention enough to take the cue – squeezing water onto his back with the sponge before rubbing over the broad flex of muscles, freezing once hearing him let out a heavy moan.

He leaned back again after you were done. Spilling water onto your dress once pulling his arms out to rest on the frame with a sigh – his chin tipped upward, lounging lazily on the back of the tub.

You reached for his face next – now with a silken cloth – stroking it lightly over the few droplets of blood splattered from when he must have cut into those poor runaways after hunting them down with swords and dogs in heel.

You shuddered some at the thought and must have let your eyes linger too long – or at least long enough not to notice him opening his – staring at you silently with eyes jaded in something that seemed to seize you by the throat.

“I’m sorry, ma-” You tried, but he seemed disinterested in it, reaching for you with wet fingers rubbing on the hem of your collar.

“You’re not dressed properly.” He said then, voice lazy yet loud – unimpressed, though not enough to be outright angry.

Gulping at the feel of his large hand so close to your neck, your voice only barely held it together. “I’m sorry, master. They hadn’t the right maid livery in my size, but I’ll have it ready tomo-” You started, hands folded neatly on your lap.

“Take it off.” He interrupted.

You blinked – tensing with your throat closing – sitting there stunned for a moment before mustering an ever so hesitant answer.

“Your majesty?”

“It’s master. Don’t make me tell you again, slave." He growled through grit teeth right at your face after yanking you close by the fabric of your shirt. "And you either dress properly, or you go naked. And right now, it looks like it’ll be the latter. Unless you want to be whipped for poor servitude?”

Your eyes – moon-big now while you shook your head – breathing thin through your nose. “No, master... I’ll undress.”

“Good.” He broke off your collar, dropping you back down onto your seat on the floor before rising with water rushing fast and heavy down along his limbs, dripping onto you as he stepped out with an unfettered splash.

You got up as well, beginning with the buttons on your shirt. Feeling him eye you while he wrapped himself in the towel you’d laid ready for him – his burning gaze leaving you goosefleshed and nearly in tears, bashful as you stepped out of your skirt – naked before him.

You didn’t dare look – even as he stepped toward you. Keeping your head bowed low – breath in shivers while eyeing the hand he reached for you, his fingers stopping just short of touching your bare skin.

“Clean yourself.” He said then, wafting the same hand to the tub he’d just used. Still filled with bubbles of lavender, though no doubt also of his own grime. But you wouldn’t refuse, no matter the degradation – your thoughts still lingering on the former kitchenmaid who’d disappeared not long after becoming the Prince's personal servant.

You stepped in, feeling the warmth close around your legs – still hot enough to prickle. Lowering yourself down, you sat there – swallowed by the bubbles with the loofa in hand, lathering your flesh with the mix of oil, soap, and water – brushing off soot and sweat – leaving you soft-skinned and smooth to the touch, but also riddled with goosebumps that wouldn't lower under the heavy leer the Prince was giving you.

“Get out and come here.” He said a short moment later, and you got out as told – taking slow steps toward the man, with footprints leaving soapy puddles in their wake.

He reached behind you to pull the pin from your worker's bun, letting your hair cascade in flowy wisps down around your shoulders – before brushing them behind you to clear your face and chest.

He’d dried off but didn’t offer you the towel – having dropped it into a wet pile on the floor – now reaching out to feel the smooth gloss of your breasts with brazen digits. Inspecting and assessing while caressing their weight as you stood there with your head still hung down low – silent and shivering.

Soon his hands fell from your chest down to judge your every curve, sliding over slippery slopes until reaching your cunt – stroking two thick fingers through the drippy curls found there. Gliding them between the lips, he circled your clit with his middle digit – tickling you – while dark eyes watched your lip quiver with a power-hungry gleam.

Stepping closer, the small smirk stretched on his face brushed your hairline where you tried bowing your head even lower in embarrassment – with brows tremoring similar to the hands hanging loosely by your sides.

“Aren’t you gonna bleat like a little lamb? Hmm... slave?” He asked then – low in a whisper, blowing gently into the sweat of your hair – cold enough to make you shiver even more. “The slut before you did….” He added with his smirk sharpening – lips stiffening against your skin where he brushed them in halfhearted kisses down your forehead and temple until reaching the shell of your ear. “I had to wring her little neck just to make her stop squealing.”

You sucked your teeth on impulse, jolting just a bit but not enough to make the dire mistake of moving.

“I can tell you’re smarter. That’s good….” He continued with fingers kept at your cunt – playing your shivering core where you stood planted – dripping wet with bathwater and terrified of moving. “Weak little things like you do better understanding their place.”

Your hands formed loose fists, flinching at your sides as you kept from the urge to wring your thighs shut until he left your sensitivity alone.

“But smart or not, I believe you missed a spot earlier-” Both his hands found your hair instead. “So get down on your knees, slave.”

One paw cupped the back of your skull in a ponytail while the other laid flat on your scalp, pushing you down until he had you leveled with his throbbing manhood – thick and high-strung – blushed red and strangled with veins – bobbing with might against the ant trail leading up to his navel and looking every bit impatient to be served.

“Use this pretty head of yours to do better, and maybe I won't have to wring your little neck too.”

You eyed the swaying length with eyes crossing – sucking your lip at its intimidating reach and how it seemed to rise higher than your head – mumbling out a weak. “Yes, master...”

You dropped your jaw and produced your tongue – feeling him keep control of your head in his tightening hold, yanking your hair before you gave the large cock a flat lick – starting at the base of his balls until flicking off at the very tip.

Not too revolted by the mild taste of lavender and vegetable oil, you locked your lips around the head and sucked it in hopes he’d ease his grip.

“Sh-fuuhck- you really do know your place, huh slave?” He mouthed – his head hanging back in a heavy groan – holding your skull in both hands while using them to bob you against his crotch on repeat, lolling his hips inside the wet warm comfort of your mouth a little deeper for each time – only moaning with a laugh once you gave a whine for breath. “Sweet and obedient- just how I like- with a nice wet throat to fuck too….”

He thought of kicking you when you put your small hands against his thighs to brace yourself – but given how softly you held them there without nails and pinches, he decided he’d grant you the tiny mercy – thinking he’d later teach you to keep your hands on your knees when serving him head like a proper slave ought to.

Tipping his head back again, he looked down at you and the pretty curl between your brows and the cute sight of your teary eyes looking back up at him – giving a hiss at how it made his balls tug in excitement.

“Get up-” He growled, pulling you up by your hair and throat until you shoddily stood upright on unsteady feet – lightheadedly looking at him with dazed eyes and a wet pout. “’This tight cunt as loyal to the crown as your mouth, hm?” He asked with a hand smacking the soft place, making you yelp before he made to bury two of his thick fingers inside the taunt space.

You whined out softly at the intrusion – kept steady and close by the fist holding your throat in a choke – before he used the same hand to throw you over the bed – stomach first with a slap to your ass.

“Bow down, slave- and show me some fucking respect. You’re in the presence of royalty, remember?”

He mounted you with a pent-up groan – and a strong fist in your hair, pushing your face down into the mount of pillows you’d dallied with earlier. His knees dipped into the plush next to your hips, locking you beneath him with his spit-slickened meat resting between the soft valley of your ass, sliding between the cheeks impatiently.

Gathering your wrists in his other fist, he kept them crossed at the small of your spine – before pulling back and letting his cockhead fall right to your sweetly wet and welcoming opening – wasting little time in piercing it nice and deep in a direct aim – like an arrow shot straight through a target.

You winced and bucked your hips at the attack – feeling your walls weep and sting – fluttering hot around the size of it.

He leaned across your back – heavy against your shoulders with his mouth at your ear in gritty whispers. “I like docile slave girls like you who know a thing or two about pleasing a man. Good submissive sluts who understand they’re nothing but warm soft meat for men like me to devour.”

His words groaned in nibbling bites on your earlobe – with a hand kept strict and harsh in yanking your head back for him as he slowly started dragging himself out and stuffing you so fast you couldn’t keep from yelping at the breach. Toes gripping the cold rocky tiles as your legs shook under you – being rocked into harsh and deep by the muscle strength of the beast on top.

“I'm not the first one you’ve bent over for, huh?” He continued with a grin, haughtily chuckling in low breathy condescension. “Probably the first one you’ve had take you in a proper bed, though, hm? And not in a hayloft on whatever dirty farm you grew up on.”

Your fingernails punched into your palms where he wrung your wrists tight, keeping you pressed flat beneath him while he heedlessly rutted into you like you were nothing but his own snug fist.

“I bet the whole village had a go seeing how pretty you turned out.” He laughed again, scoffing at it with his tongue tickling your ear. “Did they all fuck you like this? From behind like a farm animal? On all fours with your pretty face moaning in the mud?” Simpering, he sped up as though aroused by his own words.

Twisting your hair tighter and groaning louder against your ear – chasing your deepest parts with balls clapping hard against your clit.

“You’re all fuckin' inbreds- It’s a fucking miracle your filthy parents created something like you- prettier than all the bratty princesses I have to listen to yap all day.” He moaned – now fully drooling against your face, nomming on your ear with heavy breaths.

Fully draping you in his sweaty muscles, you lay gasping beneath the weight – cunt clenching hard around his shaft – making him hiss.

“Ah fuck- It's nice coming home to an obedient slave- so tight and warm- grateful for a royal cock in your poor slave cunt, huh?”

You winced at his pounding, so deep you felt it choke you – making your stomach fold and curl, trying to protect itself from the assault. “Yes- thank you, master- thank you-” You cried while he placed sloppy layers of wet kisses down your temple and cheek in return – until finally pulling off.

“Come here, down on your knees-” Ripping himself to his feet, he pulled you with him by the fist riddled in your hair and pushed you down at the foot end.

Tugging on his cock in the other hand – quick faps in the slick – he kept you looking up at him while slapping the wet weight in sticky taps against your lips.

“Open wide, slave- here it comes-”

Only one more jerk and it all blew in thick white beams shooting across your face – spewing in clusters, hitting you once on your forehead and another over the nose - dripping to your lips into your gaping mouth where he focused on squeezing out the rest – tapping the plush creamy tip against your tongue while panting.

“Mh-fuck- clean me off and swallow.”

With breaths heavy and slowing, he detangled his hand from your sweaty locks and made to pet your head instead. Gently running his fingers over your hair while watching you obediently kiss and lick up all the spill in tired and slow yet devoted strokes with your tongue until it was all prettily wiped clean.

“Good slave.” The Crown Prince hummed then.

Finally sounding satisfied – still with a lazy hand holding your head where you so faithfully sat at his feet, swallowing his seed, while his satiated cock grew limp in regard.

“Now go wash off while the water’s still warm, and come out and help me get dressed.” He ordered, voice groggily soft in the after high. “I have a full schedule today looking at potential brides… and I want my little farm animal by my side to keep me going insane from boredom.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo, Naoya

HQ – Oikawa, Sakusa

BLLK – Reo

DS – Doma, Muzan, Sanemi

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk smut #bnha smut #yandere bnha #mha smut #my hero smut #yandere csm #yandere aot

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daycourtofficial · 2 months

Text

In a world of boys, he’s a ✨gentleman✨

Summary: based on this request - your friends help walk you through all the nice things Azriel does for you

Author’s note: I forgot all about this tbh lmao why was this just sitting in my drafts all alone

“I think Azriel has the best manners,” Feyre says, her cheeks glowing from the wine, wisps of brown hair coming out from her braid.

“And the biggest wingspan,” Mor adds, raising her blonde eyebrows.

“I’m serious,” Feyre turns to Mor, “he’s so polite, he cleans up after himself, he treats (y/n) like a queen, he-“

You choke on your wine. “Treats who like what?”

Mor slaps your shoulder, causing you to almost spill your glass. “Oh, do not start this again, I will scream.”

“Start what?”

Mor rolls her eyes, falling back on the couch, “pretending like you don’t know how nice Azriel is to you.”

Your face heats involuntarily. “He’s very nice to me, I’m well aware of that. He’s a nice guy.”

Mor groans, getting up for more wine, “see! This is what I’m talking about!”

Nesta and Feyre giggle, but you sit up, “what do you mean what you’re talking about? What is wrong with me thinking that he’s nice to me?”

Feyre’s giggles continue, “it’s not that, sweetie. It’s just… he’s exceptionally nice to you.”

“So? We’re friends.”

Mor chimes in, “if any male was as nice to Nesta as Azriel is to you, Cassian would slit his throat.”

“Cassian’s more of a hands-on brute, but I see your point,” Nesta corrects.

“Friends don’t act like the two of you do,” Feyre muses, refilling her wine glass.

Soft touches, sitting needlessly close to each other at gatherings, Feyre catching the two of you napping on her couch on multiple occasions.

“He always blushes around you,” Elain observes.

Images of Azriel’s reddened cheeks and ears flood your memory, and how adorable you’d find it.

“He always asks you if it’s okay for him to pick you up to fly.”

A montage of soft “may I?” and “is this okay?” flutter through your mind. His soft touches of your hair when you’d take off, knowing it was your least favorite part, trying to comfort you in some way.

“He pulls out your chair for you at every family dinner.”

“-and plates her food!”

Azriel’s scarred hands grab the back of your chair, a soft scraping noise filling your ears, replaced by your soft “thank you”.

He sits next to you, grabbing your plate reflexively, piling it with roast, carrots, and potatoes, knowing to avoid the celery.

You thank him again, oblivious to Cassian’s exasperated arm movements at the two of you, as well as Nesta’s immediate swatting of him.

Elain giggles, “he always comes by every Sunday asking me to help him arrange a bouquet for her.”

Nesta smirks as the other two females let out soft “ooooh”s, as if you all were gossipy teenagers. Maybe you were. Your eyes draw towards the bouquet sitting on the table in front of Elain, the pink and yellow hues making you smile.

“He always has a hand on you whenever you’re out in town.”

The warmth from his hand is a welcome presence on your lower back as you two push through the crowds of the Velaris stalls. You prefer going out into town with him in tow - he was much taller than you and could see over the crowds.

Not to mention how he carried all of your bags and you spent the rest of the day catching his scent on your clothes afterwards.

“I’m not even sure you own your own coat from him lending you his.”

Nights out at Rita’s always ended with the two of you walking along the Sidra, his arm around your shoulder. He’d always wait for you to start shivering before placing his coat around your shoulders, helping your arms into the sleeves.

You scratch at your neck, uncomfortable with all the attention on you. “That doesn’t mean anything… right?”

Mor huffs, dramatically falling back on the couch after draining her glass, “I can’t explain this again.”

“Ask him out,” Feyre says, while Nesta nods her head, “just do it.”

As if the Mother herself were in the room gossiping with you all, Azriel strolls into the room, a bit shocked when five pairs of eyes peer back at him, amusement in four pairs, adoration in one pair.

You can’t help the smile that graces your face when you see him, and Nesta loudly placing her cup on the table jolts you out of your trance.

“Will you- would you,” you clear your throat, rushing the words out before you get too scared, turned in your seat to peer at him, “would you like to have dinner? Tonight? With me? Alone?”

Mor and Feyre are trying, but failing, to hold in their giggles at your nervousness, but you have completely forgotten they were in the room with you.

Azriel’s lips curve into a smile, “I would love to. I can pick you up at 7?”

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel x y/n #acotar writing

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itostea · 1 year

Text

hot things bllk boys do as your boyfriend (rin, shidou, nagi & chigiri)

warnings: suggestive in shidou’s part, reader is called pretty girl in shidou’s part

credits to whoever did this idea first! and repost bc i forgot tags oops

rin:

poking the side of his mouth with his tongue whenever you’re showing him a new outfit 🤭🤭

“So what do you think?” You beam with a grin, doing a twirl for him to get a 360 of your clothes. A half-empty bag is disregarded on the side of your shared bed. You can see your reflection on the side mirror and how the fabric fits around your waist. The dress isn’t anything special in design but its intended use is to be frame flattering–the kind of dress that you can wear on any occasion. It’s one of the few things you came to really like from your online purchase and insisted Rin see. In the end, you ended up forcing him to sit through your haul (not that he really minds).

Teal eyes flit from side-to-side and subconsciously, his tongue pokes the side of his cheek. The scrutiny, though it shouldn’t, makes you nervous. You don’t think he’s yet to understand the effect he has on you. Comically, you straighten up when he’s about to speak, making him raise a brow in question. “The dress’s a bit short.”

“But it’s cute right?!” You whine, doing another twirl for emphasis and stepping closer to him.

“It’s not bad.”

“Huh? Are you sure? I thought this was one of the better picks…” You frown, your spirits dying as you were excited to show him the dress.

“It only looks good because you’re wearing it,” he speaks frankly, leaning back to observe you again. Like before, his tongue probes at the inside of his cheek whilst studying you.

You try your best not to react and try not to squirm underneath his gaze and how effortlessly good he looks. “H-Huh? Yeah thanks…”

“Why are you acting shy now?”

“I’m not!”

shidou:

hand placement. that’s it.

“Ryu! Get off of me!” You sigh for nth time, helplessly writhing underneath him. “At least take a shower first before you hug me…”

“You complain too much baby,” he taps the side of your cheek with a boyish smile. “Can’t believe my girl can be so mean. After a day of tiring practice too.”

“Uh huh, I’m pretty sure it was only tiring since you’re always butting heads with Rin.”

He ignores your insult and instead leans up. “When were you on first name basis with that bastard?”. Little strands of hair fall over his forehead and his pink eyes glow above you. From below, you can really see the product of his hard work. His sweat still clings to him but that only draws more attention to his biceps and muscles. You see a smug smile on his face, realizing that you were caught gawking at him.

You avert your eyes with embarrassment written all over your face. “Shut up, I wasn't looking. And besides you literally call him Rinrin.”

He only bursts in laughter. “I didn’t say anything yet! Awh I didn’t think you’d get jealous!”

“Huh?! Aren’t you the jeal–!”

He interrupts you with another pat on the cheek. “Well don’t worry I won’t call him any nicknames reserved for you. Alright sweetheart? Or did you like baby more? Or was it pretty girl?” He teases leaning closely to you, pressing kisses over the crevice of your neck with a coy grin. His grin only widens when you gasp and whisper-yell his name when he bites down softly on your neck. “You wanna join me in the shower?” He breathes against your neck.

You’re not a fool to miss the hidden meaning behind that offer, well aware that the two of you weren’t just going to shower. “I gotta run some errands,” you say half-heartedly, not really convinced that you want that.

“Yeah?” He chuckles close up to your neck before he props himself with his arm bent while the other pushes your lips closer to his. Your body jolts as his hand creeps down to rest on your neck–with his thumb rubbing little circles over the fresh mark he just left. When he disconnects from your lips, a familiar gleam in his eyes draws your attention. “Still don’t wanna join me?”

“My errands–” Another kiss. A gentle squeeze to your neck as he deepens the kiss. You can’t find yourself to be mad when you feel his grin against your lips. In vain, you try to muster up a glare as you purse your lips. “Ryu–!”

Again. Only this time that hand slides down to rest at your hip. The sound of his lips against yours is enough to make you hide your face in embarrassment. And he doesn’t seem like he’d be backing down either.

“Okay fine! I’ll join you in the shower, you demon!”

“Knew you’d come around.” He pulls you up and only returns your glares with a cheeky smile.

You pout as he gathers you in his arms, not finding much in your heart to push him away. “You did all of that on purpose didn’t you.”

“So what if I did babe? It always works doesn’t it?”

nagi:

literally lifts you like it’s nothing 😭😭😭

“We gotta go pretty…C’mon, get out of bed.”

“Don’t wanna…”

Nagi finds the situation to be amusing, seeing as the roles are reversed with you being the lazy one and him trying to pry you awake. He’s not usually one to wake up early but after the release of a new game he’s been wanting to try, he wanted to get his hands on it before it sold out. Again, he tries to gently shake you awake, suddenly gaining a newfound respect for you–seeing as you dealt with similar situations involving him.

“Why can’t you just go alone?” You whine, covering your face with the blanket.

“You said you wanted to try that bakery’s pastries, didn't you?”

“Can’t you just get them for me after you finish buying the game…” You mumble.

Nagi sighs. He could. But he doesn’t want to. Call it selfish but he doesn’t want to go alone. It’d be such a hassle if the line was long and he’d be waiting by himself–without you to talk to. “Nope. Can’t do that.”

“Why not?” You complain for another time, your voice muffled by the blankets. You hear the ruffling of the blanket and how the bed flattens with his knee. Your hands come to cover your eyes from the early sun streaks peeking into the room, scowling once you see your boyfriend holding the blanket in between his hands.

He looks at you blankly. “Don’t make me carry you…”

“Huh? As if. You’re too lazy to do all that work–! Sei?!” Suddenly, you’re a few feet up, face-to-face with a fluff of white hair. Your look of shock brings a small smile to Nagi’s features and he can’t help but pinch your cheek in between his fingers, positioning you so you could fit in his arm.

“I wouldn’t really call this work. This wouldn’t even count as a workout either…” he glances at you, proceeding to carry you to the restroom so you could get ready. “Let’s get you more awake ‘kay?”

You blink. You’re awake now. Completely. Sometimes or maybe too often, you forget the extent of your boyfriend’s strength and that’s always given him an advantage in the element of surprise. Even now, you gape as he continues to handle your body in his arms as if this was just a stroll in the park.

“Hey…I can walk there myself…” You protest weakly, opting to cross your hands rather than resist.

“Nah, don’t want you running away from me. Of course if that happens, I’ll just have to carry you again.”

chigiri:

maintains eye contact with you all the time 😩😩

A hand brushes over your shoulder as you’re doing your skincare, applying the moisturizer carefully over your face with your eyes fixed on the mirror. Glancing at your boyfriend, you tilt your head. “Yes?”

“Don’t apply your moisturizer like that. Do it like this,” he motions with his fingers, only smiling when you only blink. “Here let me do it.”

With a nod, you face him, allowing him to massage the product onto your face. “Feels nice, Hyoma.”

“I bet,” he mumbles quietly, lightly chuckling as you make a noise of displeasure when he rubs a spot too hard. Rosy eyes watch you carefully as his nimble fingers continue to massage in the residue of any leftover product. You feel yourself getting a bit bashful underneath his gaze, preferring to just avert your eyes to the side while he continues to apply the cream on you. “Not gonna look at me?” He teases, collectively deciding to just finish your skincare routine for you.

His fingers reach over to grab onto your lip balm, unclasping the container and gathering a reasonable amount on his finger. With his thumb and pointer finger, he holds onto your chin and smooths the substance over your lips. You try not to tense from his hold, still stubborn in ignoring his gaze. “I am looking at you.”

“Right,” he laughs. “Anddddd there. Done.”

“Thank you,” you mumble, finally peeping a look to gaze at your boyfriend. He’s still smiling, only this time his eyes crinkle at the sight of you looking so meek.

“You’re pretty cute, you know that?”

Your hands cover your face as a sound escapes your throat. “Please stop, you're gonna kill me here.”

#rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #rin x reader #itoshi rin #shidou x reader #shidou ryusei #shidou ryuusei x reader #nagi seishiro #seishiro nagi #ryusei shidou #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #chigiri #chigiri hyoma #hyoma chigiri #chigiri x reader #chigiri hyoma x reader #fluff

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sukunas-wife · 5 months

Note

Ryoumen “i want a second son” Sukuna except he gets a feral little princess who matches his energy and is not above taking big bites of dad and only yuuji-nii can control her sksks

Eegehehe- warning- I suck at writing for girls actually😭 I’ve never had a younger sister or niece 🥹 my female cousins are literally non existent also,

The doctor became nervous after your newborn started crying. The maids made quick work of taking care of everything and handing you your child already bundled up. Sukuna was just as confused before he took his child from you, carefully unfolding the blanket.

The room was silent, everyone turning to Sukuna, for a brief second your aching muscles were numb that you didn’t feel after birth. You were nervous, what happened, why didn’t anyone say anything? Sukuna held the child with two large hands supporting it, using his other two hands to carefully pull back the blanket. He didn’t lift his head, but you watched his mouth gape slightly like he wanted to say something. He turned his head slightly, settling on just looking at you through the corner of his eyes. It was a low rasp “she’s a girl,” he cleared his throat wrapping her back up. Without a doubt it was his, his pink hair, she had even taken to his red eyes like Yuji had. His fixed stare didn’t show it but he was concerned for her, even if he had wanted a second son, “Lord Sukuna we co-No.” he turned to Uraume, “It’s my child regardless if it’s a boy or not. She stays here.” He leaned back, handing you your daughter.

After everyone had cleared the room you were breastfeeding your child. Sukuna sat with arms crossed, eyes closed and his head resting back against the wall. You were staring down at your little girl and you realised, “You didn’t want a daughter because it’s going to force you to settle down.” You were grinning like a fool when you turned to look at Sukuna, he grunted not opening an eye or looking at you. “I’d be a fool to let anything happen to my daughter.”

You hummed, “If she’s anything like you I’m sure she can handle her own like Yuji when she’s older.” Sukuna opened an eye looking at you, “Anya..” you turned to look at him. “Her name is Anya.” There was no room to argue with him on that. He stood up, “I’ll bring Yuji.”

He left the room before you mocked him “oouu I’m Sukuna I’m gonna protect my daughter I’m a big bad tough guy.” You scoffed to yourself, “He doesn’t realise he’ll never hurt another child again Anya.” Leaning down you kissed her little head, and she barely opened her eyes.

—————

“hehehe” Sukuna was sitting on his throne head resting on his fist, eyes closed. You left a while ago to do something he already forgot about. Yuji wanted to go with you but Anya held him back, Anyways was an anomaly. She had no cursed energy or presence. Yet she still had the power to read minds, it was something that baffled Sukuna.

He learned she had that power at the worst time, when you were all gathered eating breakfast. When he thought about getting a collar. Anya just jumped excited “are we getting a dog like the one’s old man sells in town?!” Everyone looked concerned at Anya and she pointed at your husband with a bright smile, “Papa was thinking about buying a collar!” You looked at Sukuna “When did you- Right now! He was thinking about looking for a collar and a really good one so it doesn’t slip up or come loose.” It was the heat on your cheeks when you realised what collar he meant, but you were more concerned when you thought he was actually saying these things out loud in front of Anya.

Sukuna was looking away trying to clear his throat, ‘What the hell is this brat on about? I didn't say that shit out loud… did I?’

“OOOO PAPA SAID A BAD WORD!” Anya covered her mouth with her hands and she turned to you, your mind was drawing a blank ‘…what..what’s going on…”

Yuji was spaced out shovelling food into his face before he looked over, “Anya sit down don’t stand on the chair.” She listened to his not so demanding verse and sat down, “okay Yuji-nii.” She plopped down in her chair before perking up, “Are we getting a dog?”

Sukuna cleared his throat again looked right at her, if his hunch was right, ‘No, we’re not bringing some mangy mutt into the house’

Anya deflated and rested her chin on the table pouting, “why not?” ‘Because I said so.’ “Then why’d you say?” ‘Because I’m the owner of this house I decide what goes and comes.’ Anya sighed, getting teary eyed, trying her best to plead silently the way Yuji had taught her. Yuji snickered and he turned to you, you were sitting down whispering and asking Yuji if he knew what was going on. He explained to you that he figured out Anya could read minds not too long ago when she kept beating him in stone, parchment, shears, (please I’m sorry😭), hide and seek, and their little treasure hunting games. What he didn’t tell you was he also used her to out scam the guy who shuffles a gold token and bets money you’ll never find it.

It explained to you why Sukuna was just giving her looks and she was vocally responding.. it left you to worry how many of your thoughts she had actually heard. 😭

On a side note- here are some cannon events in the process of Anya growing up 😭😭

As a baby she was menace 🥺 she liked biting/trying to chew her dads fingers when he’d poke her cheeks. Not a cute nibble either, she’d dive in predicting the “If you eat his finger you’ll get stronger”

When she took hold of his finger the first time he was in love. That was his daughter and she meant the world to him. Then she dug her nails hard into his skin making him wince and immediately clip her nails. But when you don’t clip her nails because you're scared you’ll hurt her he always ends up with a scratched chest and hands when she’d try to take hold of something. She’s the reason he started wearing shirts even if they were uncomfortable on his massive arms 😔

Was kinda glad she didn’t sleep in the bed with both of you. She loved sleeping on his chest and Sukuna did also. But only allowed it when he could put those baby gloves on her.

After hitting age one she loved messing with Yuji and Sukuna while they were sleeping. You continuously went after her picking her up with your hand sunder her arms. She’s let out her baby screams and wiggle her body you could hear your husband’s attitude, “unhand me mother! I crave chaos! Ahahahsgsghshss!”

The older she got the more both of you learned the way Yuji admired his dad but was a total mama’s boy? It was almost the same case. Except she admired her dad.. and was a daddy girl. Yes she loved you and thought the world of you, but daddy’s so cool because he has so many cool powers! 🥺

It didn’t matter if she was sleeping in your arms, she was laughing and having the best time with you. If she even felt or heard the slightest sound, meaning Ryomen was in the room, she would scream and cry for him to pick her and take her with him. The same case as Baby Yu, you were jealous Ryo got all the attention and baby love even if they were attached to your chest most of the time.

Speaking of jealous, Yuji was the most jealous little 10 year old boy 🥹 “MY DADDY!” He’d carry Anya back to you so he could sit in HIS dads lap. Sukuna found it amusing and more often than not bullied Yuji. Which actually led to your funny little schedule where when Anya was briefly awake Yuji would be glued to your side. When Anya was asleep Yuji would run and stick to his dads side.

Sukuna has a permanent dent in his side boob where 2yo old Anya crawled over to him on your bed and then latched on, i don’t mean milk- i mean she saw a mound of flesh and went ‘nom’ He grunted and it took everything in him to not swat her instantly. He sat up after pulling her away. She was dangling by her feet clapping her hands and laughing, Sukuna was pressing his hand to his chest helping himself and cursing because no way he really let this brat catch him off guard and mess him up 😭

Which is also when it hits him, she has no presence because she has no cursed energy. He was disappointed but relieved she’d never have a reason to be caught in trouble 🥹

Here’s a little montage of moments 🥹

An invisible child means invisible crimes. Sure, Ryomen could actively tell where she was. But it’s his child he could let his guard down and close his eyes to think about the things he had to do. Breathing became slower the more he started to relax almost to napping completely.

1…2…3…4… “YUJIII NIII I GOT THE THING”

Kamutoke… she took the Kamutoke

Sukuna was going to get up and chase after her but she tripped and face planted into the shiny floors Sukuna had to pick her up and wipe off her tears and snot while telling Uraume to put up his tool because there was no doubt in his mind Yuji or Anya would kill the other with it by mistake

Anya loves her parents, but when Sukuna is thinking Sinister thoughts she runs to Yuji.

Ex. The four of you went out into the city, Anya was riding on her dad’s shoulders the way Yuji used to. She was patting away on his head when she heard the thought, “I should kill that man, I’ll start by slowly gutting him a- wwaahhhhh” followed by squirming and Anya basically jumping over knocking down Yuji. When you asked her what was wrong she said “…nothing… papa is kinda scary.”

Yuji had to piggy back her the rest of the day when she didn’t feel like walking but she sang her cute little “Family ooting” song

This is both Yuji and Anya when daddy’s home ,

(I’m sorry I’m so bad at writing for girls 😭 I don’t have a niece to spoil or interact with, I’ll have to steal my friend and her little sister next time and play with her 🥹 I’ll do better for next one i promise 😤)

Tag: @sad-darksoul @cyder-puff @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @sakuxxi @mercymccann @simpforyoubitch @certainduckanchor @domainofmarie @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @dolliira @ilovemybabies378

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urfavlarry · 18 days

Note

needy joost :3

Stay with me

Joost Klein x reader

summary: you get back home to a drunk, and very needy Joost.

a/n: since i don’t write smut and don’t know if this was meant to be a smut request i wrote it as fluff sorry if you wanted smut but i do not write these types of things and sorry its short :,)

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╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🐦 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

You kick off your shoes, walking to the bathroom to get changed out of the fancy things you were wearing. You were out with your friends at a restaurant, all of you finally having enough time to go out together. You changed into something more comfortable, slipping on your comfort socks and do your skin care routine before walking to the living room. To say it was a mess was an understatement. There were some soda cand sprawled out in the middle of the floor, blankets thrown here and there when you notice a sleeping Joost on the coach. You smile softly, picking the mess up and folding the blankets. You weren’t mad, it wasn’t like he pulled something like this every single day. He must’ve had his own night..in. You sit down next to him, running a hand through his blonde hair, scratching his scalp, careful not to hurt him.

He moved around slightly, moving his hands to hold onto your waist. “Mm.. how was your day?” He asked groggily, barely even awake. You tell him about your day, talking his ear off before you felt him getting up, tired eyes meeting yours. You smile softly at him, Joost leaning in for a kiss. The kiss was sweet, a bit sloppy since you were a bit tipsy since you had a few drinks with your friends, but not drunk, while Joost was again, half awake. He cupped your cheek, pulling you in so you were on his lap, lazily slipping his tongue into your mouth. He rested his hands on your waist, your hands tangled in his messy blonde hair before pulling away for a breath.

You smiled softly at him, kissing his nose before going to get something but he pulled you back down, wrapping his arms around you and hiding in the crook of your neck, leaving gentle kisses one your soft skin. “Stay..” He mumbles, clinging to you and kisses up your neck, to your jaw.

You chuckle, kissing the side of his head. “Joost, I forgot to shower let go.” You say, kind of desperate to take a warm bath. He grumbles, mumbling; “You can do that with me.” He practically doesn’t even ask, probably just giving you a heads up which was funny. You slipped into the bath, sighing as the hot water hit your skin. He quickly joined you, sitting so his back wss facing you. You lightly scratched his back, washing his soft blonde hair. You leave small kisses on his back, Joost leaning into your touch. You left the bath, changing back into your pyjamas. You fix yourself up in the mirror before getting picked up by Joost, your legs instictavely wrapping around his waist. He kisses your nose and carries you to bed, sinking into the covers while clinging to you like a leech. He put a hand under your shirt, drawing all kinds of shapes on your stomach as he tangled your legs together. You brushed the hair out of his face, listening to the horror movie playing in the backround you almost forgot about. Soft snores echoed in the room, smiling at him you finally turn off the TV and decide to sleep aswell, comfortable in your partners arms.

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╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🐦 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

#joost klein requests #joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost klein fanfiction #joost klein x y/n #joostice for joost #stand with joost #justice for joost #joostice #free joost #joost klein x you #joost fanart #joost x reader #eurovision #eurovision x reader #eurovision fanfiction #eurovision requests

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fungal-rot · 2 months

Text

Save A Horse, Yadda Yadda…

pairing: Joel Miller x reader

summary: you find yourself getting distracted by the man next to you. his thick fucking thighs always grabbed your attention

warnings: 18+, smut, thigh riding, slight degradation, bit of dirty talk, reader gets called a good girl, oral (f receiving) but literally for a second, use of pet names (honey, baby, sweetheart)- lemme know if i forgot anything

w.c.: 2k

⁺˚°｡⋆♱✮˖☽𓋼𓍊◯𓍊𓋼☾˖✮♱⋆｡°˚⁺

It was a relatively slow, easy day in Jackson. You had got caught up on house chores, which albeit, there wasn't much to do anyhow. Joel did patrol early in the morning and had the rest the day to wind down, and Ellie was hanging out with Dina.

Flipping through a book, only paying half-attention while you skimmed the pages, you caught yourself stealing glances at Joel who sat beside you on the floral printed couch. He whittled away at a block of wood, working on a new little side project with careful focus. The sound of a sharp blade gliding across the surface of each corner was the only thing that could be heard.

Perhaps that's what was distracting you.

Slow.

Or perhaps it was the way his biceps flexed under that shirt of his, or the way his veins seemed to protrude from the top of his hands and up his forearm with each thought out stroke.

Maybe it was also the way he was sitting with his legs spread, letting the wood shavings and chips fall to the floor that he always promises to 'clean up after.' How his thighs appeared thicker, meatier when he's sat like this in that pair of denim that you innocently, accidentally, shrank just a tad bit when you last did laundry.

Your own thighs clenched together.

Easy.

"Don't hurt yourself now." Joel's low voice brought you out of your stupor with a snap of your head, uttering a small noise of confusion.

"You're thinkin' too hard." Joel clarified, flicking his gaze to you briefly as he swiped another stray chip from his lap.

'Smartass.' You thought before letting out a soft hum in reply and lean back against the couch, closing your book and tossing it onto the coffee table.

There was a beat of silence. Your eyes trailed over Joel's body again, breath hitching with the image of his large, broad frame.

He seemed to have noticed the way you eyed him so hungrily while lost in your thoughts, his gaze following yours to his lap. With a smirk, Joel took the opportunity to spread his legs a bit wider, knee pressing against yours subtly.

You watched and squeeze your thighs together once more.

Gotcha.

"Hey," he murmured before setting his project down on the end table next to him. "What's goin' on in that pretty li'l head'a yours?"

“Nothing,” You answered, the side of your face turning up somewhat with a wince at how quickly you responded.

Joel scoffed and folded his arms over his chest and sat back, head tilting disbelievingly with a cock of his brow, “Yeah? So y’ain’t starin’ at me like some piece’a meat?”

You rubbed at your nose as you felt the all-too-familiar warmth of embarrassment kiss at your face, but you couldn’t deny it. Joel had meat for days under all that clothing. So thick, and big, and-

“Lookit ya! You’re still doin’ it.” Joel gestured a hand towards you, brows drawing together with a shake of his head.

“Am not!”

“Bullshit!”

He turned his head and scratched at his chin, nails scraping the graying facial hair before he looked over at you again. His eyes trailed you up and down, and with a sigh he grabbed at your hips, eliciting a surprised yelp from you, and settled you onto his lap.

“What’re you doing?” You asked, instinctively placing your hands on his shoulders for stability.

“It’s not what I’m doin’,” he muttered and hooked a hand in the bend of your knee, gently making you spread a bit wider, “It’s what you’re doin’.”

Your brows furrowed this time, nose scrunching with confusion. You part your lips to speak, to ask what the hell he’s talking about, but that all quickly went down the drain the moment he had you roll forward.

A soft moan replaced all words instead, your eyes fluttering shut as you ground against him.

“Mhm,” Joel noised, watching you with a stoic mask. “ ‘S’what I thought.”

He kept force-rocking your body, arms flexing and grip tightening.

Back and forth, back and forth.

“Joel,” You panted, eyes screwing shut with a fall of your head.

“Hm? That feel good, baby?” He cooed, voice mockingly sweet. You nod and he watched with a smug look plastered on his face. “Yeah, poor thing jus’ wanted some attention, huh?”

Joel’s cock began to twitch inside his already-too-tight pants- which, by the way, he knew for a fact was your doing- and he unclasped his belt skillfully with one hand, undoing the button and lowered the fly.

“You’re gonna ride my thigh,” He instructed, pulling out his half-hard length from his briefs, “an’ I’ll think about lettin’ ya cum.” His other hand slid down from your hip and to your knee, giving a light squeeze.

Your eyes snapped open. What the fuck does he mean, ‘I’ll think about it’?

“Aht!” He could see the disapproval etched on your features, the way your brain was racking up some counter argument. “Don’t wanna hear it. Y’already lied twice t’me now; so excuse me for not playin’ nice.”

Joel swiped a tongue over his bottom lip before giving his cock a tug, “An’ I think I’m bein’ awfully fuckin’ generous lettin’ you hump my leg like a damn bitch in heat.” His voice was low, almost inaudible as he narrowed his eyes.

With a huff of air, you continue rolling your hips, forward and down. Then you tried moving side-to-side, chasing after a high that wasn’t there. Your body slowed before stilling completely and take in a sharp, frustrated breath.

“I didn’t say stop,” Joel gruffly spoke, eyes piercing into your skull.

“I’m not getting anywhere, Joel,” You complained before letting your head slump into the crook of his neck. What was once a pleasurable feeling, dry-humping his thigh, got uncomfortable fairly quickly with the way the seam from your jeans dug into you.

“Kinda the point, ain’t it?” The man retorted and tilt his head down to take a look at the pitiful frown on your lips. He chewed at the inside of his cheek for a moment, feeling his heart soften. Joel was mean, sure, but he wasn’t evil.

Finally, Joel conceded and tapped at your leg, “Alright, get up.”

He held your hands to spot you as you slid off his lap, back to your feet. Then his large fingers worked to get your pants off, helping you shimmy out of the denim. Joel gazed at your lower figure fondly, a faint smile creeping on his face as he hooked his finger into your panties, swiftly tugging them down. The man let out a low whistle at the sight of your slick-coated folds, then leaned in, tongue seeking out your entrance briefly before swiping back up to your clit. Your breathing hitched, legs twitching at the new pleasure making your stomach burn hot, then he pulled away again, not before leaving a delicate kiss under your navel.

“Come on back, honey,” Joel’s voice eased from his stern tone, now more gentle and loving. He guided you back over his thigh and closed a fist around the head of his dick once more. A shudder ran up your spine as your lips came in contact with the fabric of his pants, your arousal already soaking the denim. Before you could start moving again, he gripped your chin in his free hand, lightly squeezing to make your lips part and directed them over his length. “Spit.”

Complying willingly, you let saliva gather in your mouth and drooled all over the head and top of his fingers.

“Good girl,” Joel praised lowly and began stroking himself. “Go ‘head, sweetheart.”

Once you got the green light, your hips shifted tentatively before falling into an easy rhythm. An airy sigh pushed past your lips in content as your head fell back into place on Joel’s shoulder. A hand came up to hold it in place, fingers carding through your hair.

“That’s it, baby, jus’ like that.” He murmured, fist tightening around his dick as he watched you greedily get yourself off. Moans and grunts and breathy exhales sounded through the room, along with the wet smacking of Joel’s cock gliding through his hand.

“Actin’ like such a needy slut,” Joel commented, lip curling into a snarl before a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Can’t go two seconds without makin’ a mess’a yourself.” The way Joel went back and forth from degrading to loving then back damn near gave you whiplash.

You mewl into his shirt and clench around air, hips picking up speed while you gripped his bicep. Joel’s thigh was damp with your arousal, the warmth seeping into the fabric and vaguely hitting his skin.

“Or a mess’a me,” He added with a pleased glint in his eyes. You felt his body shake with each passing stroke of his fist. The fact he was getting off to you getting off on him made you shiver with delight. Heat began to build up in your core, stomach fluttering and tightening while goosebumps erupted across your body. You lift your head from his shoulder and crash your lips against his messily; teeth closing, tongues swirling.

You retreat, just enough to speak, “Joel,” the pitch of your voice raised in warning, hips stuttering as your forehead rest against his.

“No,” He denied flatly.

“Joel,” You repeated. Pathetically, Joel thought.

“Gotta learn your lesson somehow,” he countered with an unbothered face, tone lacking sympathy. “If ya wanted some lovin’ y’know ta ask. I’ll take care’a ya.” His own breathing hitched as his thumb swiped over his slit, wiping precum down the underside of his shaft as that close feeling creeped up on him as well.

“But ya didn’t do that, didja? Then you lied-“

“I didn’t wan- fuck- didn’t wanna bother you,” You explained in a hurried slur of your words, throwing your head back while desperately trying to hold off on your orgasm.

Joel’s face softened, but just barely. His tongue clicked, gaze trailing down your neck and to your breasts that subtly bounced with each move of your lower body, then to your pussy gliding back and forth across his denim clad thigh.

Fuck it.

“Okay,” he breathed out with a curt nod and grasped your chin once more, leading you back to face him, “You’re gonna cum- but you’re gonna look at me when ya do, got it?”

You nod against his palm, brows curving inward as your eyelids flutter; the coil on the verge of releasing.

“Repeat it.”

A heavy sigh escaped your lungs, “I look at you wh-when I c- oh, fuck-“ Your eyes widened, cunt clenching as your body convulsed and writhed over top of him.

He smirked proudly when you couldn’t even finish your reply. Your slick spread further over his leg and he relished the feeling. “Good fuckin’ girl, that’s it.”

You continue to ride your high out, eyes never leaving Joel’s. His lips press against yours once more, tongue flicking over your bottom lip before pushing it in. Your hands came up to cradle his face while you swallowed down every single moan and grunt leaving Joel’s throat just as he spilled himself into his fist.

Breaths labored, chests heaving, and legs trembling. You break the kiss and smile down at him before planting a quick peck to the bridge of his nose, making him smile.

“I love you,” Joel whispered, wiping the mess off his fingers onto his pants. Eh, they needed to be cleaned anyways.

“I love you,” You say back. He lies down, pulling you on top as he catches his breath. “I’ll wash your jeans for you next time I do laundry.”

He hums softly, closing his eyes and slips his hand under your shirt, soothingly running his nails up and down your back, “Sounds good,” There was a beat, then, “Jus’ don’t shrink them any further.”

⁺˚°｡⋆♱✮˖☽𓋼𓍊◯𓍊𓋼☾˖✮♱⋆｡°˚⁺

thank you for reading <3 and thank you for all the love on my previous fics. for the longest time i never posted any of my stories to tumblr because i felt they weren’t “good enough” haha. it’s genuinely keeping me motivated to keep writing and hone my skill, so please feel free to keep reblogging and/or leaving a comment <3

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #the last of us hbo #tlou #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Text

König x Petite Reader Headcanons

Warnings: Non-Explicit Implications of Sexual Content, Petite Reader, Size Kink, Jealous König, Insecure König, Implied 141 x Reader, Petnames, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

A/N: Forgot that I'd already written this once before, so here we are with more König x Petite Reader Headcanons ! Just see this as some extra content for our beloved König and his smol s/o <3

When it comes to you, this man is F E R A L

Genuinely cannot believe how perfect you are.

Constantly jokes about how he could fit you in the palm of his hand.

And once, to shut him up, you proved him right by sitting on his open hand when he wasn’t expecting it and gave him a smug look.

“There,” you said, folding your arms over your chest. “You can fit me in your palm.”

König tried not to think of how close he was to your special parts, how warm you felt on him.

He had to disappear to the bathroom for a few minutes afterwards, and when he returned, his face was flushed and he could barely look you in the eye.

He’s never been the same after that. Any trace of a size kink he had before has been amplified to such an extent that he’s taken to hiding your clothes so you’ll have to wear his.

And he just can’t keep his hands off you whenever you do.

“My my, Engel,” he says, one hand sliding around your waist and pulling you closer to him, the other drawing the hem of his shirt further and further up your thighs.

“What could you be hiding under here ?”

Calls you his Mini Maus.

“Because you’re just so tiny and precious !” he gushes.

And since you’re so small compared to him, he treats you as if you’re fragile, like an endangered species of flower.

Concerning intimacy at the beginning of your relationship, König was concerned that he was too big for you.

But, when you put his mind at ease (and challenge him) – “I bet I can take you, Köni~” – you’re in for it.

König’s fighting spirit won’t let you off easy.

When he’s feeling more dominant, he bunches your wrists into one of his hands while he sits on top of you, his other hand slipping beneath your (his) shirt and slithering round the band of your underwear.

“Pretty little thing,” he says, a dangerous smile at his lips. “All weak and defenseless.” He leans down, his eyes dark and wild. “Just for me.”

If you try to struggle (consensually), he’ll smack you through your underwear. And not gently, either.

“Don’t test me, Mini,” he says, his grip about your wrists tightening. “You don’t know what I’m like when I’m angry.”

He loooooves fitting his hands around your waist.

Especially when he finds that his hands wrap around your middle and his fingers touch.

Size kink: upgraded.

He gets lowkey jealous if you ask someone else to reach something for you.

Will sulk about it.

“I just don’t see why you had to ask Ghost to get it for you,” he’ll say, frowning as he lies in bed.

You sigh, putting your book down.

“König, you weren’t even here !” you say. “And I was starving !”

König knows he’s being unreasonable, but he can’t help but feel like he can be easily replaced.

Especially when he knows the rest of the 141 would gladly drop everything to be with you.

He’s not stupid, he’s seen the way they look at you.

A few minutes alone together and a kind word – “You’re so perfect, Köni~ My big, big boy,” – will set him straight.

Loves showing you off to his friends. His acquaintances aren’t safe, either.

He’ll stand you before him and show you off to his associates like: ”Look, this is my partner ! Aren’t they beautiful ?!”

So help him god if anyone tries to show you up or disagree.

You’ll never see them again.

And neither will anyone else.

König loves you more than life itself, and regardless of his insecurities or your unwavering ability to have anyone you could ever want, he’s glad you chose him <3

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

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stsgluver · 4 months

Text

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟓 — gojo satoru

synopsis. there's nothing more romantic than travelling halfway across the world for the girl you love... even if it is two years late.

wc. 3.4k

tags. none really, yn is described as shorter than megumi, possible ooc for EVERYONE, lowkey forgot how to write halfway through, possible spelling mistakes and plotholes (pls still like my writing i beg)

a/n. im sorry i never really got round to answering the comments on the last post but i have added everyone to the taglist who asked. so i did write two endings but one was bad SO i stuck to this one only <3 i hope this is the right end to the series and thank you sm for the support over the last few months!! i will have a 'spin-off-ish' series focused on the students making the videos in the first place which i will add the link to on this chapter once it's up. this is for @ilovejugs69 ly pookie

previous part / series masterlist

“this is such a bad plan.”

megumi let out a small sigh, resting his head back on the leather of the plane’s seat. an economy seat – much to gojo’s dismay – but there hadn’t been much time to consider other options, bar gojo buying himself a personal private jet and hiring a pilot all in the space of less than an hour.

the dark-haired student clutched the arm rests as he felt his stomach churn in knots as the reality of their decision sunk in. it was a very last minute and muddled plan but gojo was desperate to see you again and megumi wanted nothing more than to have his family back – so when gojo offered to take them both to the other side of the world to find you, he agreed a little too quickly. spontaneity was not his thing and with each passing second he was remembering why.

gojo shuffled himself back in his seat, nose scrunching up in annoyance as he struggled with the small gap for his longer-than-average legs. if his height wasn’t drawing the pair any attention (which it certainly was), the uniforms and the sorcerer’s blindfold definitely were. he didn’t need his six eyes to feel the stares of strangers.

“i’ve never had a bad plan in my life.”

megumi scoffed at the declaration, rolling his eyes at the white haired sorcerer’s misplaced confidence. like it wasn’t gojo’s idea to send megumi on that mission alone that ultimately resulted in yuuji swallowing sukuna’s finger or his idea to prank nanami on his birthday that got both himself and the first years all detention.

“don’t roll your eyes at me, young man,” gojo lightly swatted megumi’s arm, wiggling one of his fingers in front of the younger boy’s face. “your mother will think i’m a shit dad and won’t come back.” megumi ignored the tightening in his chest at the casualness of gojo’s words.

“you are a shit dad,” he retorted, closing his eyes and willing the next seven hours to go by faster than they were. he didn’t hate flying, but he wasn’t the biggest fan, and the nerves that were building up alongside the nonstop chatter from the man beside him were definitely not helping.

gojo gasped and megumi felt him jostling in the seat next to him, he could only imagine the dramatics his teacher was pulling in public. it was best he kept his eyes closed.

“that wasn’t very nice. god, teenagers and their angst these days.”

megumi heard gojo mumbling loudly under his breath and there was no doubt in his mind that there was a cheshire grin on gojo’s face, daring him to take the bait and bicker like the mature adult he was.

however annoying he may have found him, megumi knew that gojo was just as nervous as he was. the two, however, were just polar opposites in all aspects. so while megumi just wanted to spend the next few hours trying to sleep and hope he’d have the courage to face you when he woke up, gojo wanted to play avoidance by teasing him as if they weren’t travelling halfway across the world for you.

when megumi didn’t respond, to gojo’s disappointment, a silence settled between the two. with his hands now stuffed in the pockets of his uniform and head almost on gojo’s shoulder, the dark haired sorcerer attempted to finally fall asleep.

“do you think she’s mad at me?” megumi asked quietly after about five minutes.

gojo hummed thoughtfully, looking down at the teenager almost asleep on his shoulder. “she has no reason to be mad at you,” he said in the most reassuring tone he could muster.

“she’s never messaged me back,” megumi countered.

“at least yours still go through.” gojo huffed lightly, an attempt at brightening megumi’s mood at the expense of himself but it only left both more unsettled at their predicament. he knocked his knee into the younger boy’s gently. “get some sleep, this is going to be a long flight.”

“if you just take a seat here, i will go see if ma’am is available. it’s so lovely to meet her family finally.” a woman dressed in formal attire gestured towards a small lobby waiting room with a bright smile.

there was no one else in there apart from one middle-aged guy with a briefcase, newspaper in hand. gojo thanked the woman, hand on megumi’s shoulder as he led him into the back corner of the white minimalist room.

the sun had set by the time they’d landed and found your office building – something that gojo had forced shoko to send him. he hadn’t even had a chance to tell her what they were doing before he’d gotten on the plane so after she had a go at him for leaving her out of the loop and not bringing her too, she sent across the necessary details with demands for regular updates.

“i bet she’s going to call security,” megumi sighed as he dropped himself down into the black leather seat, resting his head back against the wall behind him. between school and the plane journey, he’d been awake for nearly twenty hours and the stiff seat he was on felt like a pile of feathers. he was going to fall asleep before he’d even had the chance to see you.

gojo crossed one leg over the other, hands crossed behind his head. the teenager wanted to elbow him for his calm posture – he could have as well, he’d dropped his infinity the second the two had entered the building. the second the older sorcerer had stepped into the building he knew you were here, recognising the cursed energy that brought him a familiar comfort he’d missed. “why would she?”

megumi snapped his head in his direction, eyes opening to give him an incredulous look, “why would you say you’re her husband?”

gojo waved a hand dismissively, “i basically am–”

“was. several years ago.” megumi countered and gojo’s mouth dropped open at the audacity of his pupil to point out the obvious facts.

rolling up the sleeves of his jacket, gojo began to stand up and megumi was close to cracking a smile at his behaviour. the delirium of not sleeping was beginning to sink in. “okay, kid–”

“you’re here.”

gojo’s sleeves dropped just as fast as megumi stood up from his seat, both more alert than they had been all day. suddenly, the uneasy feeling megumi had had on the plane didn’t seem so bad, this was so much worse.

you’d barely changed since you’d left, bar your hair being a few inches longer. if the two looked closely enough at you, they’d realise you were just as wrecked with nerves as they were as you struggled to stop your hands from shaking.

when the receptionist had first come up to tell you that your husband and son were here to see you, your initial reaction had been to say she’d made a mistake… until the cryptic message shoko had sent you thirty minutes earlier started to make a lot more sense.

she was the only one you’d maintained regular contact with after you’d left. initially you had gone on a complete no contact with everyone, refusing to even acknowledge that you had a life and a family in japan. you were scared and you’d chosen the coward's way out by running. it felt wrong to still have strings binding you to a life that was no longer yours.

but you missed her and you worried constantly about gojo and megumi, so you’d slowly built up messaging her once a month to every few days just to know everyone was still alive.

you had desperately wanted to take megumi with you but you didn’t have it in you take him away from his sister and, despite how you’d laid into him about how even he had limitations, you knew megumi was safer with gojo than you. in america, you were vulnerable to curse users and curses alike without the protection of any other sorcerers or specialist schools to help you.

the three of you probably looked like idiots to the other man in the room, all staring at each other too afraid to make the first room. it felt surreal to all be together again. you were afraid your longing to see them again had reached a point of insanity, and they were afraid of spooking you if they got too close too quickly.

megumi was the first one to make a move, stepping around the rows of seats and the centre coffee table till he stood a metre from you. “hi.”

your hand covered your mouth as you had to tilt your head up slightly to keep eye contact with the boy you’d raised since he was only a fraction of your height. you may not have changed but megumi had – both his height and voice – and the guilt of leaving him behind was overwhelming.

“oh my god, you’re so much taller than me.” you moved closer to him to gently grab ahold of his arms as you took in how much he had grown. there wasn’t a day that had gone by that you didn’t regret and feel guilt for leaving megumi and you only hoped he understood why you left him so suddenly. taking a step back, you gestured to his uniform, “what’s jujutsu high like?”

the words were bittersweet. what had leaving achieved apart from heartache? megumi was still a jujutsu student and gojo was still japan’s lifeline. maybe you would live a longer life in america, but was the life you had now worth the one you’d left behind?

“it’s…” megumi hesitated before clearing his throat, “it’s okay. there’s two other first years, yuuji and nobara. they’re alright.” you smiled at his words, flashbacks of your own childhood crossing your mind as you remembered the innocence of your first year. it was fun being in a class with two prodigies, you were mini celebrities in a world of rich and powerful sorcerers.

“i’m glad you’ve made some friends, megs,” the nickname rolled off your tongue too naturally and if megumi closed his eyes, maybe he could pretend that you were all still in japan and you were just catching up after being away on a prolonged mission. you glanced to the other sorcerer in the room who had remained silent up until this point – although he had silently made his way over. “i’m going to go speak with satoru in my office and then can i take you out for dinner? to talk properly?”

megumi nodded a little too eagerly, “yeah, please. i’ll just wait here.”

“perfect. satoru?” the acknowledgement was all the strongest sorcerer needed to be following behind you, keeping a distance of several paces as you led him inside your office.

gojo rested his forearm against one of the large ceiling height windows in your office that overlooked the city. you had to be at least twenty stories up and the blaring of car horns was simply a hum, vehicles appearing as mini red and yellow dots on the busy roads below.

“nice view.”

it was the first words he’d uttered in your presence and despite him being the one to initiate the venture to you, he had no idea what to say. this was likely his only chance to convince you to come back and he may have already screwed up by waiting as long as he had.

“what are you doing here?” you asked as you pushed your door shut, leaving the two of you in the privacy of your small office. it was nothing special; a chair, a desk with paperwork piling up and no photos whatsoever. there was no trace that you even existed beyond these four walls.

“don’t i at least get an ‘i miss you’? i just travelled over ten hours for you,” he said lightly, trying to ease the tension in the room but your voice was no longer as soft as it was when you spoke with megumi. the teenager had done nothing wrong – he was part of the reason you left.

“it’s been two years.” he didn’t have to turn around to know that your arms were probably crossed in front of your chest, your head tilted to the side as you waited for him to explain himself. except he thinks his past offences of stealing all of the sweets before halloween were a little more forgivable than letting you leave.

his hand turned to a fist as he dropped it from the window, turning around to look at you properly. “i know.”

both of you stared at one another, neither of you speaking as you took the other in.

“you chose them over me,” you accused. them being both the higher-ups and the whole of jujutsu itself. you’d given him a chance to have a normal life – a natural life in which you’d grow old together and die of old age – and he’d chosen the short life where he’d likely die before he turned thirty.

“you knew what you were signing up for,” he said and there was no malice behind the words though they still frustrated you. he was right to an extent, he’d sat you down after you’d finished school, just before he’d taken in megumi and given you an out. you chose to stay, fully believing that the two of you had already gone through your worst.

“i didn’t realise i’d always be on the losing side.”

“we weren’t always losing–”

you stepped closer to gojo as you held out your hand, counting each disaster after the other with your fingers, “haibara died, we almost died, geto defected, we took in megumi and the tensions between your clan and the zen’ins got ten times worse. you said you wanted to change jujutsu society and what had we done? i never knew if you’d come home to me after missions, it made me feel sick.”

“how do you think i felt coming home to a note?” you could count on your hands the amount of times you had seen gojo angry – and while he wasn’t all the way there he was teetering on the edge as he frustratedly lifted off his blindfold, throwing it onto your desk. in the same way you’d been desperate for him to hear what you were saying before you’d left, he was equally as desperate for you to hear him now. to see that he was here. “megumi? at least geto left for a purpose, you just left.”

it was an unfair dig – geto had committed mass murder, after all – but similar to the one that you’d pulled on him two years ago.

you clicked your tongue as you tried not to make it obvious how badly that made you want to cry, holding your hands up in surrender. “was it so wrong to want a life where i didn’t go to work thinking i would die? to want a future?”

“you were my future.” he sounded sad as he uttered them, and it looked foreign to see the gojo satoru look so dejected. there were only inches between the two of you now and despite the fact he towered over you, he appeared so small as he continued, “was i ever yours?”

memories of your late teenage years and early adulthood play out as a montage: from your first meeting when you’d both gotten lost on the train to school, to the tears you spilled as you finished writing your note and closed the door to his apartment for the last time.

“of course you were.” your voice was shaky, no longer holding any bite. until the day you’d left, since you were sixteen, you’d never envisioned a life without him.

gojo’s hand reached out to push your hair back from your neck, the little white scars still tarnishing your flawless skin. it was taking all of your resolve to not collapse into his arms and have him hold you like you knew he would. you were sure you’d believe him this time if he told you he could protect everyone, that he was in fact able to be in six places at once and still come out on top. “come back with us please.”

“satoru…” you dragged off, looking away as you fought between listening to your rationale that reminded you that nothing had really changed and your heart that missed being in love.

“just come back,” he repeated, “are you going to tell me you’ve found someone else? that you enjoy your life here?” it was wrong and selfish, he knew it, to be convincing you the way he was – to even be here full stop – but he missed you and he wasn’t ready to let you walk away again.

“i can’t lose you.” hesitantly you pressed your hands to his chest. for a second he was scared you were going to push him away, but you didn’t, fingers tightening around the material of his uniform.

“don’t be silly and travel halfway across the country then.” his voice was just above a whisper now as he brushed his nose against yours. “hey, look at me properly.”

you complied without any hesitation – you always did when it came to him. two years of no contact but your body still reacted on muscle memory to the sound of his voice. never in your life had you ever seen eyes like his, of course you hadn’t, and you were still taken aback by the full blue colour as he gazed down at you.

“tell me you don’t want me to kiss you.” you did want him to. “tell me you want me to walk out of this room and not turn back and i’ll do it.” he wouldn’t have left without you.

“i missed you,” you whispered, and that was all he needed to duck his head down to let your lips meet. gojo’s hand slipped round to the back of your neck, tugging you impossibly closer as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip. you missed this, you missed him, and you were going to find it impossible to let go of him again.

only when your lungs ached to breathe did you force yourself to pull back from your ex boyfriend. gojo’s eyes were still focused on your lips and you didn’t doubt that if it were up to him, he’d be leaning to kiss you again. it was only the light push against his chest that held him back.

“what are we doing?” you asked, voice wavering from both the kiss and nerves. whilst there was no doubt in your mind that gojo was who you wanted, you had many reservations about reentering jujutsu society.

“about to ditch this place and go back to japan on a plane. all three of us.”

you brows furrowed together, “but–”

gojo held a finger up your lips, his other hand slipping into his back pocket, pulling out three plane tickets. “i already got your ticket, you don’t want it to go to waste do you?”

you lightly hit his arm and smiled up at him. he was grinning now and it didn’t need to be said aloud – he was yours again (though he’d never really stopped being such) and you were coming home. “that confident?”

“surprised you were able to resist me this long.” he pecked your cheek this time, a hint of tease in his tone like he hadn’t needed megumi to convince him to even enter your office building in the first place.

you let his joke slide with no rebuttal. “are you coming to dinner?” you hoped you hadn’t been keeping megumi too long.

“do you want me at dinner?” gojo asked.

you reached across to your desk to grab ahold of his blindfold and passed it to him. as much as you loved being able to see his eyes, you’d rather not be spending your first twenty four hours with him in bed complaining about a splitting headache. “i’m sure megs won’t mind. plus you can pay,” you added with a wink.

gojo raised an eyebrow, lips tugging up at the corners into a slight smirk, “oh so that’s the real reason why you missed me?”

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super sorry if ive missed anyone!

#snapshot !#gojo #gojo satoru #satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x yn #gojo series #gojo fic #jjk #gojo fluff #gojo drabbles #gojo imagines

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bunnysbrainrot · 7 months

Text

The Real Thing

Relationship: dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Content: EXPLICIT, toys, filming sexual acts, Daddy kink, degrading/praising mix, dom/sub dynamic, creampie, unprotected p in v, sexting

Summary: You let it slip to Joel that you touched yourself without his knowledge. The thought drives him over the edge, eager to show you that the real thing is so much better.

This is a series! Click here to read the other parts!

The chilled glass rests on Joel’s lips when he receives your message. You’d been up to your usual nightly texting after your respectively busy days. Tonight, the thoughts of him had sent you into a shaking, sated frenzy after finishing yourself off. Your hands had barely been freshly cleaned of your slick before you texted Joel, your dad’s best friend, and your most hidden secret.

You pant as you tempt him, I touched myself thinking about you.

Meanwhile, Joel tenses as he mulls over those six simple words. You probably fingered yourself, Joel thought, after rubbing gentle circles on your clit. He could imagine your stifled moans like you’d given him before.

He’d watched you fuck yourself with your own toy. God, what he wouldn’t do to see this in person again.

Joel sets his glass of whiskey on the side table, flitting his fingers to issue a reply.

Did it feel good, sweetheart?

Your reply is swift, though you’re still catching breath as if you’d ran a mile. The waves of euphoria waft over your senses, elated.

Really good

But that’s not the response Joel wants to hear. A hidden, possessive part of him snaps. He replies quickly, his question leaving you hitching your breath.

Better than me?

You know the answer, but you’ve messed up already. Regardless of your answer, you’re sure you’re in for another lesson.

No, sir, you admit.

Joel presses further, I don’t believe you.

Anxiety courses through you, shooting directly to your aching sex, already thoroughly fucked on your own accord. You text Joel back, catching your lower lip between your teeth.

How can I prove it to you?

Perfect.

A smirk tugs at Joel’s lips until he grins at his cell phone. He clears his throat as he replies, covering for his heated cheeks.

You can prove it by heading over to my place. I wanna show you a thing or two.

His Southern accent still saturates his message, you can hear it as if he were whispering in your ear. To your dismay, you can’t have his company until you trek to his house. You shift and sit straight, and send a reply.

I can be there in 15 :)

Joel’s response is almost immediate. It sends a shiver down your spine.

Bring your toy, too.

Three knocks sound against the door of Joel’s house. He saunters over to the foyer, hoping it wasn’t Sarah who forgot something for her girl’s night. With any luck, she would be fine, and he could proceed undisturbed.

To his relief you greet him with a wide smile. You seem more confident this time around - last time you came over you were still doe-eyed and timid, but he helped you break past that.

“Hi,” such a simple word, but the way he draws it out is like a siren song. If it weren’t taboo, you would kiss him right here on his doorstep.

Your cheeks warm, “Hi, I um… I brought it.”

He turns sideways and gestures with an open arm for you to enter.

The words good girl brush across your skin as you walk past Joel into the foyer. He must’ve seen your flustered state, because his hearty chuckle fills the air.

“Where do you want me?” you pipe up.

Joel’s glance to you is soft, melting the rich brown of his eyes into something warm and safe. You stare into the deep chestnut until his voice breaks you out of the trance.

“You sound nervous, baby.”

In front of him you shift on your feet, clenching your hands into fists as he calls your bluff. Joel approaches you and rests his hands on your shoulders.

His lips rest on the crown of your head, “It’s just us, babydoll. Y’ain’t gotta worry when you’re here.”

You nod slightly against his chest. The thrum of his heartbeat hammers against your ear. You’re encased in Joel’s arms as your breathing steadies, just in tandem with his heart.

“Attagirl,” mumbles Joel, “won’t let anything happen to you, ‘kay?”

A hand on your lower back guides you to the staircase. Joel follows closely behind as you make your way up to the second floor, making a beeline for his bedroom, where you’d spent your night together last time.

The smell in the room hadn’t changed from Joel’s usual scent - that signature mix of freshness and earth.

“I think I just get nervous, even though we’ve done this before.”

Joel nods at your words. “Would it be crazy to say that I feel the same way?”

You whip around to face him. Comfort and pride fills your chest now that you know you’re not alone. Before you ask him to clarify he nods, giving you a sheepish smile. Returning that face with a smug smirk of your own, Joel lands a soft blow to your ass. No tolerance for brattiness here.

“On the bed.”

His command is short and distinct. You execute the task immediately, patiently waiting on the bed as he asked.

Joel shifts his attention to your bag, and gestures to it, “Lemme see it.”

You place your bag in your lap and rummage the insides, finally grabbing onto that familiar firm silicone, carefully kept in a velvet bag. Joel’s eyes grow dark at the sight of it slowly being unsheathed from the red velvet.

He strides to you and takes the toy for himself, holding it in both hands while he lets his mind wander. He’d watched you fuck yourself with this toy barely a few weeks ago. Hell, he had been inside you last week.

But even with that consistency, it wasn’t enough for him. There was hardly a moment of relief. Now that he had felt everything firsthand, fantasies raced through his mind like wildfire.

“Are you not going to touch me?” you ask.

Joel’s expression steels, and his lips curl into a smile.

He shakes his head, “Not yet. You know how this happened last time, right?”

You protest, “What am I supposed to do when you’re not around, Joel?”

The sharpness of his tone stops you. “You ask first. You tell me first.”

After a moment, you nod.

Another command has you exposing yourself, “Take it all off, sweetheart. Nice and slow for me.”

Layer after layer, cool air meets your skin, brushing over your perk nipples and caressing the mounds of your breasts. They ache as you notice how intently Joel eyes you while undressing.

Your tits catch the lamplight beautifully. Their skin looks soft to the touch, pillowy and supple.

“Fuuuck,” he groans. Joel lowers a hand to his crotch, palming a growing erection in his jeans.

Dutifully, you peel your bottoms and throw them aside, followed by your underwear, joining your other garments on the floor. You’re laid amazingly bare, ready and squirming with a new wetness between your thighs.

Joel hands you the dildo you’d brought along, nodding sternly. “Go on.”

You tense, “You’re not going to help me?”

“You did alright by yourself before. Don’t let me stop you.”

His tone makes you scowl. Joel breathes a laugh before he sits at the foot of the bed, placing a hand close to your thigh, temptingly close.

“Don’t look at me like that. You knew better,” Joel remarks.

You did. Maybe some part of you wanted this to happen - and maybe that part of you wasn’t as small as you’d thought it was.

Without further instruction, you take hold of the dildo’s shaft, placing it carefully at your tight entrance. It had grown sore from your session from before, but still welcomed the toy easily. It dips into your displayed pussy, slowly easing in to the hilt.

Joel is mesmerized by the sight. The way the toy stretches you wide around its middle, the way your eager cunt swallows the remains of the length. Your cries sound around the room.

The lack of touch has you writhing in front of Joel. Despite your slip-up, the least he could do was touch you, even if it was holding your hand. But he offered nothing.

Since you think a toy can be better than him, he’ll let you deal with this yourself.

“Joel-“ you mewl, shoving the dildo deep into your pussy. Your walls flutter around the length, desperately searching for the familiar warmth of Joel’s cock, but to no avail.

The sound of a belt unbuckling sends a chill across your body. You crane your neck to spot Joel freeing his thick cock from his boxers. He kicks his pants to the floor and reaches for his shirt quickly after.

Warm light highlights the tone in his arms and chest. The sculpted muscles of his torso ripple as he twists to face you once again.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” Joel asks in a whisper.

You nod fervently, but he can tell you’re straining for the pleasure. You’re reaching for the ecstasy that only he had been able to give you.

“Think you could make yourself come for me?”

The challenge weighs on you. At this rate, it was unlikely. There was only so much your arms and wrists could take while you fucked yourself. It would be so much easier to suction it to the floor or the shower walls like you’d done at home.

You shake your head. You admit the defeat.

Joel finally makes contact, stroking the fullness of your cheeks. Their warmth radiates into his rough fingers.

“Can’t do it, can ya?”

You scowl, “Usually takes a little longer than this.”

He objects, “And how many times could I have made you come in that amount of time?”

Point taken.

The dildo drags slowly out of your used hole, throbbing with each heartbeat. After the toy’s usage, you weren’t sure how much you could handle from Joel. But you knew he would push you to your limits.

“Now,” he starts, “I wantcha to turn over for me. Elbows and knees.”

You oblige but ask, “Elbows?”

With his help, you’re in position in front of him, your bare ass and drenched pussy in full view.

“If you’re on your elbows, it feels better. Just trust me, honey,” Joel’s cozy voice reassures you. You ease your muscles, trying to replace the nerves with excitement.

Out of sight, the heavy head of Joel’s cock presses against your wet hole. You release a long whine, pressing your ass into Joel. The gesture is eager and desperate, but it makes him chuckle.

Needy little slut.

He delivers a harsh slap to your ass, groaning when you whimper at the impact. The head of his cock pushes further, greeting your walls with its thick girth. A low moan thrums through you as his cock stretches you wide, slowly filling your delicious cunt.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you’re tight.”

The words roil through you. You clench down onto his dick, drawing out a low moan deep from Joel’s chest.

His cock fills you slowly, but so much deeper at this angle. Every inch molds you to him, shaping your needy pussy to accommodate his size. Your slick coats his shaft, letting his movements speed up, until the lewd sounds of your sloppy pussy fill the room. Each wet slap drives Joel into a frenzy of hurried thrusts and deep strokes.

Somehow, your body is withstanding his sweet torture. Your moans sound muffled in the comforter - you grip the blanket desperately to hold yourself steady.

“You really think a stupid fuckin’ toy is gonna be better than this?”

Joel’s voice is gruff. It grates over your skin like the rough stubble of his beard. His voice rumbles again - his thrusts are more precise to strike your sweet spot. Your moans are a song only he has memorized note for note. A siren’s call. A simple plea.

More. More. More.

“Not a fuckin’ chance.”

A harsh thrust sends you screaming into the sheets, hiding your face to quiet yourself. Joel’s fingers coast down your spine to the base of your hair. His fingers thread through and gain purchase, tugging you upward.

You gasp, but release a low moan as Joel slowly drags his cock through your walls, before slamming right back in.

Joel laughs; his words brush across the shell of your ear, “Oh, you like it deep, huh?”

The soft whine is all the answer he needs. Joel repeats the movement a handful of times, relishing in the sweet sounds you’re making.

A new idea comes to him. Joel props himself on one knee, now gripping your hip in one hand, and your head in the other. The fullness is suffocating, and your position doesn’t grant you much room to move. You’re pinned.

Completely free to be used at Joel’s disposal.

He doesn’t waste a moment, and the strokes are deeper even still. You let out a shrill cry at the stretch. Tightness coils in your abdomen as you near your climax, ready to release.

“Come for me, princess. Show me whatcha got,”urges Joel, maintaining his speed and angle. The way you caught your breath revealed what worked best.

After a few more thrusts, you’re at the edge of your orgasm, with every inch of your body being set ablaze as it struck. It shatters through you like lightning. For a moment, your hearing dulls, and your vision blurs as you cry out through your euphoria.

“That’s a good girl. That’s a nice big one, too,” he says admirably. Joel pats your ass as a reward. You whine through the aftermath of your orgasm, clenching gently around Joel’s cock.

His pace slows only for a moment before he resumes, this time leaning backwards to get a better view.

Joel had seen it all before, but he would never grow tired of this sight. As he moves, your sweet cunt stretches tight around his heavy cock, eagerly swallowing him back in. He drags his movements out to give himself a good show, like the greedy lover he is.

“Baby, I wish you could see this,” he marvels.

You whimper in response. If it looked as good as it felt, it would be a dream to witness. A new idea suddenly sparks.

You shakily point to his phone on the nightstand. Joel pieces it together instantly. You want him… to record this?

Damn it all to hell.

“Y’wanna make a movie, sweetheart?” Joel’s filthy comments string along as he opens his phone’s camera, and selecting the ‘video’ option. “Wanna see what Daddy sees?”

Your soft moan gives him his answer, so he presses ‘record’. Joel tries to keep the camera steady, while keeping his strokes deep and thorough.

To think that he could keep this for later, for his own private enjoyment.

A tightness grows in Joel’s spine, wandering to his abdomen and making his balls tug tight. He can’t last much longer at this rate. Not with you squeezing him like this-

“So fuckin’ pretty. This pussy is so fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he coos. If he talks through it, maybe he can last.

You mewl into the blanket, clamping around his cock in a vice grip. Joel growls lowly at the tight warmth enveloping him.

To think this will be on video… It’ll be real, and there would be no denying this affair.

You shudder at the idea - surely the both of you would take it for your own personal pleasure, using it as the perfect material for when you ached for the other.

A band pulls taught in your tummy and snaps free, sending you into another overwhelming climax. Joel embraces the new tightness and lets it tug him toward the edge. He angles his phone to show off your splayed pussy before he unravels.

Joel groans harshly while his thrusts falter. He stalls for a moment before a new heat fills your cunt. Hot ropes of cum coat your slick walls, buried deep with a harsh thrust.

The recording pans in further - now zoomed in on your stuffed hole. Joel pulls himself from you, exposing your abused pussy to the camera. Slowly but surely, Joel’s cum leaks from your cunt and over your swollen clit.

“Who’s better?” Joel demands.

You reply between gasps, “You… you are.”

Joel presses a thumb against your slick clit, teasing the bundle of nerves into a circle. You twitch and tighten your pussy on instinct, making Joel chuckle from behind the camera.

“Damn right I am.”

He presses the record button once more to end the video, tossing the phone to the side. You let yourself collapse into the bed as your hips relax back into place.

“Next time you wanna play with a toy,” Joel mutters, easing himself at your side. He catches you gasping for a steady breath, smiling nonetheless. “At least you’ll have some good material to think about.”

You huff out a laugh, and playfully try to slap him on the thigh. Joel laughs heartily, filling you with the comfort only he could provide.

His fingers glide along your spine. “Let’s get you cleaned up, how’s that sound?”

Hiiii everyone! I’m still alive don’t worry, I just had to take a mental health break. I appreciate your understanding!

If you enjoyed, please support my work by reblogging or leaving a like!

I’m very happy to be writing again. I missed you guys <3

#fanfiction #tlou #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel #bunny writes #smut #tlou fic #fic writing #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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ultralightpoe · 6 months

Text

Full House - Eddie Munson

Authors Note: Wow. I think I went too far with these, lmao.

Word Count: 5,258

Warnings: Dad!Eddie. That's it.

Description: Stepdad!Eddie and his girls that gives nothing but Uncle Jesse Vibes.

Part ll HERE

(Thank you for the gif @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal )

Enjoy!

(Eddie is not the step dad, he is the dad that stepped up)

Eddie Munson was many things in life.

Triple senior, Satanic Freak, Dungeon Master, High School Graduate, Vecna survivor, Waynes son, and now Mechanic shop owner. But his favorite title came by accident, a truly brilliant accident of course.

Nancy and Steve had planned a vacation for themselves, the first vacation they had since the birth of their adorable son Edward…..okay they named their kid Vince but Eddie thought that name was ugly and had spent the past 5 years continuously mocking them over it. So, in everything Eddie, he had named him Edward Jr. this week.

Anyways, Nancy and Steve were having a very lovely trip at Niagara Falls while the rest of the group watched little man. While Eddie was at work Joyce Byers took him, and when Eddie had gigs Dustin took him and they ‘studied’ together which meant Dustin used him as an excuse to play games rather than study for his senior year.

It was all going splendidly, until Eddie got a call in the middle of his work shift telling him that he would have to go down to the school immediately since Edward Jr -Vincent, had gotten into a little bit of a fight.

So Eddie booked it, still in his greased out mechanic suit, a bandana on his head and the biggest concern that Steve’s kid would be kicked out of his school while he was away. What had he done to the kids? Had he broken their noses? Made them bleed?

Here was the problem, Eddie forgot that he was talking about Steve Harrington's kid, so when he arrived at the school to see his nephew bleeding and whimpering he realized the mistake. Vinny had gotten beat up, not the other way.

“What happened, bud? Who did this to you?” Eddie was gonna fuck a kid up, he was gonna scalp someones son. He was going to absolutely annihilate some random ass boy.

His nephew whimpers, using the back of his hand to wipe away a fresh tear as Eddie takes a gentle hand to assess the damage. “L/n….”

Eddie was gonna kill this L/n punk. “What’d he do? He been bullying you?”

“You must be Mr. Harrington.” A saccharine voice fills the air, drawing his attention up to an older woman with narrowed eyes.

“No, I’m Vinny’s uncle actually. Eddie Munson.” He introduces himself, holding out a hand which the woman glares at, and he realizes then that he was still covered in grease. So he pulls his hand back, embarrassed and nervous. “Sorry about that, rushed from work-”

“Never mind that. Let’s go.” The teacher nods her head. “You too Vincent.”

Eddie, now partially annoyed by the use of his nephews full name in such a tone, grabs his hand into his own and follows the old bat into the office where two more three more figures sit. The sight before him makes him stop, blinking slowly as a heat crosses his skin.

Was he blushing? Shit, he was.

Sat in the chair is the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, with a small baby in her lap and a small girl softly crying sitting on the edge of the chair, hiding half her face in the womans shoulder.

“Have a seat Mr. Minson.” The old bat snaps, moving around the desk to sit in the cushioned chair.

“Munson.” Eddie corrects, sitting in the chair beside yours while trying to keep it cool. Vinny takes the arm of the chair, holding onto some of the fabric of Eddie’s jumpsuit tightly. The woman blatantly ignores him as she shuffles around some of the papers on her desk. So Eddie turns to you slowly, holding out his hand again. “Eddie Munson.”

“Y/n L/n.” You smile, taking his hand in your own. “I am so sorry about your son-”

“I prefer the parents not to talk until I explain.” Old bat snaps out making Eddie sit up straighter. “I brought you both in here because it seems that Motley has violently assaulted Vinn-”

“ASSAULTED?! They are 5!” You snap out as the girl, Motley, begins crying which leads the little baby in your lap to start crying as well. And right on cue Vinny himself starts crying.

“Woah woah woah.” Eddie starts, pulling his nephew closer. “Bud, why don’t you explain what happened here?”

“She hit me!”

“He pushed me!”

“And then she bit me!”

“He pulled my hair!”

“Okay, ease it up.” You sigh, rubbing Motley’s back in soothing circles. “I am so sorry about your son, and I will totally get if you’re upset but they are 5 and I don’t really know about the assault word-”

“Miss. L/n.” Old bat interrupts but Eddie shakes his head. He will just handle this just as Nancy liked to parent.

“What can make this better, huh Vinny? Like your dad always says, an apology?”

“Y-yeah….” Vinny whimpers which makes Eddie smile and imitate the whimper voice. “Yeah?”

“Do you think you can apologize, Motley?” You ask and Motley sticks out her tongue to Vinny. Eddie tries to hold in his laugh at this, the little metal head was not backing down. “Motley.”

“Fine. I’m sorry Vincent.” She snaps out. “But the next time you pull my hair-”

“I think we got it.” Eddie laughs, picking his nephew up. “Let’s go get some ice cream and forget all about it.”

He smiles at the principal before tearing out of the room, keeping Vinny held above the ground as he rushes out of the school. He is rushing too fast to hear you calling behind him, until they make it out of the school.

“Wait! Sir-” He turns, blushing wildly as he attempts a smile. You smile back, still holding the little baby in your arms and Motleys hand. “I am so sorry about all of that. Motley has been a bit…. Aggressive since her dad left. How about we all go get ice cream and it’ll be on me today?”

And then Eddie, as terrible as it is, gets excited. That meant your single, single and very pretty. So he smiles. “Sounds metal to me.”

The giggle that escaped Motley makes him happy.

Soon enough Eddie found his entire world wrapped around his three ladies. You, the little 5 year old named Motley and the little baby Ziggy. (Both named after rock music. You don’t like it then name em something else.)

His life did an entire tilt and he found himself going from the freak to being ‘Daddy Eddie’ as his girls liked to call him.

“Lemme get the straight.” Eddie starts, holding up one finger and leaning back as he takes in the scene before him, Motley covered head to toe in flour and smiling from ear to ear. “The bag of flour just happened to knock down from the shelf and fall on you?”

“Yup.” The girl nods, still smiling.

“And you don’t know how the step stool got there?”

“It was there when I walked by.” She shrugs.

“I see. And you didn’t know that we hid the cookies on that shelf?”

“You do?!” She feigns shock, bringing both hands up to slap her cheeks. “What a coincidently.”

“Yeahhhhh. What a coincidently.” He imitates, bringing his own hands up to slap his cheeks in shock, trying very hard not to laugh at this entire thing. From her covered in flour, or her grammar and especially not the innocent act. Do not laugh. Do not laugh.

“Motley! What did you do?!” You cry, coming into the kitchen in the pajama shorts Eddie loved so much, to see your daughter covered in your flour.

You had both been in bed…..snuggling….. When you heard the sound of bowls falling.

“I am innocent!” Motley cries, waving her hands like she truly could not believe you would think it was her.

“She’s innocent!” Eddie follows, doing the same as her. “Tell her you want a lawyer, Mot.”

“Motley, do not-”

“I want a lawn mower!” She snaps out before you could warn her away from it. The room falls silent for a second after her words slip out and both you and Eddie try to control yourselves, but before you know it you are cracking up.

Tears springing from your eyes as you cackle, Eddie finds himself using one arm to lean against the wall as his other arm holds his ribs, pained to be laughing so hard.

“What’s so funny?” Motley asks, a puff of flour blowing out as she giggles herself which just sends you and Eddie into yet another laughing fit. “Mama! Daddy Eddie!”

“What Mot?” You laugh, swiping the tears from your eyes.

“You’re being mean!” “Aww, we’re sorry Motty.” Eddie coos, moving closer as you do as well. Before she knows it you are both launching to hug and kiss at her, covering both of you with flour as she giggles and screams to escape.

Eddie steals her another cookie before you take her to the bathroom to shower her off, you both lay with her to read for bed before you lead him back to your room, taking a shower together before going to bed yourselves.

Eddie was completely at peace, laying on the couch after a long day at work, with Ziggy laying on his chest slobbering all over his shirt. Motley laid on his legs, her head shoved between his hip and the couch as she snored away.

They were sick, and you were in the kitchen making some chicken soup. Eddie had been in charge of getting them showered and ready for dinner, the only problem was the steam from the shower had cleared their noses which meant about 10 minutes of getting them both to blow into a tissue. And by the time that was done all their energy was gone, so he led them to the couch to lay with them and try to ease their whimpers.

They passed out soon after and he was trapped in a pile of heat from their fevers and their slobbering snores. But he was at ease right here, their warmth making him just as tired. One hand rubbing Ziggy’s back while making sure she didn’t roll off his chest while the other hand slowly rubbed Motley's scalp.

Before he knew it he slowly began falling asleep himself, and by the time he woke up he felt your fingers rubbing his forehead very very softly, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Do you want me to grab them?” You whisper, which makes him shake his head.

“Let em sleep, they don’t feel good.” He whispers back, turning bleary eyes to Ziggy who was currently crawling her way up his chest, she whimpers and whines until she is able to put her mouth around his nose. The gums touch his skin as she sucks on his nose, and he laughs slowly. “Apparently she is teething too.”

“I’ll go grab her ice pack.” You laugh, moving to the kitchen to grab it as Motley wakes up.

“Daddy…. I hurt.” She whines and he nods, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the couch to give her room to get up, she does and quickly crawls until her head is in his lap.

“You want some soup? Huh pretty girl? Maybe we can listen to Elvis before bed.” He offers, watching a small smile break out on her face that she tries to hide. Eddie teases her by leaning to see it and laughing when she covers her mouth. Then he pulls out the big guns, taking up the Elvis voice as he stares at her. “Let’s go eat some soup sweetie pie.”

“Hunka hunka burning love!” She giggles, jumping up to dash to the kitchen, when she passes you she nearly knocks you over but you manage to lean out of the way just in time.

“What’s the rush?”

“Promised her Elvis after dinner.” Elvis was the king of rock, which albeit wasn’t the rock that Eddie liked, but Motley had grown overly obsessed with him lately and he was cool with that. Anything his girl wanted.

Blurb song inspo hereeeee .

The opening of King Creole began, Motley stood on yours and Eddie's bed wearing his sunglasses and his leather jacket. She held a ukulele he had found from a garage sale, and thought it was the perfect size for her to play guitar.

Ziggy stood on the ground, using his nightstand to help herself stand as she swung her butt up and down to the music.

Eddie stood by the bed, with his guitar in both hands as Elvis Presley's song blasted through the speaker, wearing his newer leather jacket and a random pair of shades he found on the dresser that he was sure belonged to you. Motley giggles loudly as Eddie sings the lyrics, playing his guitar to it as Motley pretends to play guitar as well.

You were at the store and Eddie was supposed to be practicing for his gig coming up, and when you left he had Ziggy set up in her little play crib before Motley came in with the leather jacket on. One thing led to another and they all were playing along.

“There’s a man in New Orleans who plays rock n roll!” Eddie sings, leaning in at the same time Motley does so their noses press together and then leaning back as she does and shimmying their shoulders.

They sing and scream, dancing along as you pull back into the driveway. When you come in to get his help to carry in the groceries you are surprised by the loud music, even more surprised by the Elvis playing with the Metal twist to it.

“Eds?” You call from the door, watching both him and your daughter shimmy their butts to you as they sing before you lean and stop the music which makes them both twist quickly to find you.

“MAMA!” Motley cries, excitement crossing her face as she whips his glasses off, dropping the ukelele on the bed and launching into your arms. “Daddy Eddie was teaching me guitar!”

“I see that.” You laugh, keeping a hold of her as you lean to kiss Eddie, laughing when you see him in a pair of overly feminine glasses. “Nice look baby.”

“I thought they were very metal.” He laughs, kissing your lips softly, holding your jaw before Motley groans out a ‘ewwwww’.

“Did you like the music?” You laugh, looking down at her. “Even Daddy’s guitar.”

“He made the song better!” She laughs before you set her down.

“Go get ready. We are having Vinny and his parents over.” At your words she groans, rolling her eyes which makes Eddie laugh out and reach a ringed hand to pull one of her pigtails lightly.

“What’s with the attitude, pretty girl? Your rock n’ roll career is already getting to you?” He laughs, leaning to kiss her cheek before sliding off his jacket, moving to pick Ziggy up and make his way down the hall as his baby girl giggles happily.

“I hateeeee Vinny.” Motley groans, following behind and snatching the chain that hangs from his pants to slow him down. “Daddy Eddie, pweaseeee.”

“Ohhhh, not the puppy eyes!” He whines, looking up to the ceiling.

“No!” You call, covering her eyes. “Not this time.”

Eddie sat on the floor of the living room with his back to the couch, water dripping from his hair onto his exposed chest as Motley sat behind him taking a brush through his hair over and over. He wore a towel around his hips, keeping him covered waist down but all his tattoos exposed as rubbed lotion on them, allowing Motley to have fun playing makeover with his hair.

You sat near him, your feet in his lap as you read through a book you have promised yourself you would finish for months now.. Ziggy played with her toy blocks near as well, babbling along to the movie that played on the tv.

Nights like this were perfect, no hustle and bustle and he got to spend time with his favorite girls.

He rubbed some lotion on the bat tattoos, not really paying attention to what was happening around him only to be interrupted by a sharp gasp falling from your lips. Instantly he is sitting up grunting a bit when the brush Motley was holding puls his hair.

“What? What’s wrong?” “Ziggy is-” But he already sees her, wobbling as she tries to stand without using anything to help her, blabbering quickly. Excitement courses through him as he sits up, Motley giggling behind him.

It takes her a moment but she stands, turning to you and Eddie with a tiny smile. “Come here. Come of Stardust.”

Eddie coos gently and Ziggy wobbles, moving to take a step before landing on her butt.

“It’s okay. It’s okay baby. Try again.” You coo, reaching your arms out. Ziggy giggles and picks herself up again, and once again she tries to take a step. Then, still giggling, she walks.

Clumsy and heavy, she takes step after step until she falls into Eddie’s arms while everyone coos around her.

“Da-Ed-ay.” She giggles and Eddie’s heart stops. Oh my god.

“Did she just….” He gasps out as you tear up beside him.

“Mix your name and daddy as her first word. Indeed she did.” You laugh, moving forward to kiss his cheek as he pulls Ziggy in to kiss her face all over.

“THAT’S MY GIRL!”

Eddie was beginning to get a little pissed off, his body thrumming with it as he watches his girls very closely. He keeps a firm hold on the neck of his guitar to fight the urge to punch someone in the face.

That someone was Gareth.

His band hadn’t had much exposure to kids, he knew this. The closest any of them had been to a kid was Jeff’s sister and she was only 2 years younger than her brother. So when Eddie had introduced his girls to them they hadn’t really known what to do. But he assumed they would get used to it by now.

But his friends hadn’t. In Fact they did nothing but complain when Eddie showed up to band rehearsal with Ziggy on his arm and Motley's hand held within his own. She twisted his rings around, smiling from ear to ear when they walked up to the boys.

Motley had been worried and had taken far too long to pick an outfit since she wanted to look as cool as Daddy Eddie and his friends. She ended up choosing the Hellfire shirt Dustin had made for her 6th birthday and his older jacket, she even let him braid her hair. And when they walked up she gave them a well rehearsed devil look, even sticking her tongue out just like Eddie does whenever she is throwing a fit.

The only problem was Gareth and Paul both groaned outwardly, Jeff was the only one that seemed to try and smile, shaking his hand in an awkward wave. Eddie, now irritated and tense simply explains “Y/n had to go and help Nancy with something, I offered to take the angels.”

“Of course you did.” Paul scoffs, turning to grab a beer from the fridge with Gareth and Jeff in tow. Eddie bends down so he was level with Motley, rubbing her arm.

“Don’t take those geeks to heart, yeah? They’re just nervous. You scare them.” He smiles which makes her smile.

“It’s okay Daddy Eddie. Papa never liked when I bothered him either. We’ll stay out of the way.” She shrugs, kissing his cheek and taking her chalk set to the sidewalk before he places Ziggy on the couch.

The papa comment unnerved him and he was already defensive. He didn’t like that they were in a situation that they could remotely compare to their deadbeat dad. It made him sad.

They start practicing, but soon enough Motley is running up and dancing around in the garage as they play. “PLAY TIFFANY!”

“Whose that?” Jeff asks, covered in sweat.

“Please tell me it’s not that teenager that sings ‘I think we’re-’” Just as Gareth starts groaning, Motley begins singing and dancing to it.

‘Ithinkwe’realonenow. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around!”

“Stop stop stop!” Paul snaps. “This is band practice. You can’t just-”

“I think we should play it.” Jeff smiles. “You have the tape Eddie?”

Of course he had the tape, it was Motley's favorite song at the moment. So, with a deep sigh since he already knew he would get shit for it he pulls the tape from his pocket, holding it in the air between two fingers.

Gareth sighs, snatching it from him and taking it to the stereo system.

An hour later and many snide comments, Eddie was about to lose it. Motley had, at some point, gotten a little upset and chose to sit on the couch with Ziggy who was beginning to get whiny and sad. She hadn’t napped all day and Eddie knew it was time to call it a day before he punched one of his friends.

“I think I’m gonna get the little ones home.” He mumbles, grabbing the tape from the speaker and putting it in the case as he looks over to where his girls were. Ziggy had her pre-cry face on and Motley was half asleep in the cushions. Eddie shuddered at the thought of how many times Gareth had sex on that thing.

“Next time don’t bring the rugrats and we can practice actual music.” Gareth scoffs and that tight string in Eddie finally snapped. He pushes closer to his friend, getting in his face as one hand snatches itself in his shirt tightly and in a threatening way, his other hand holding the tape up to his friend's face.

“THIS IS MUSIC!” He screams, eyes wild before he shoves his friend back and takes a deep breath, turning to where his daughters sit. “Come on, pretty babies. Let’s go make dinner.”

He scoops Ziggy up, then Motley, casting one more glare to his friends before walking off.

“I cannot believe they would be such assholes. To MY nieces.” Steve scoffs, hands on his hips as he stands next to Eddie. Tonight was the school recital, so both of them were dressed up to attend.

Steve had dressed himself in a button up with a nice sweater, making sure to match Nancy who was carrying their 3rd kid, the blue of the dress making her light up. Meanwhile Eddie chose a button up with his leather jacket, or well Motley had demanded he wear the leather jacket because it was a part of the look.

You, as per usual, looked truly stunning. He made sure to keep a hand on your hip or the small of your back to make sure everyone knew you were with him, that’s right. Eddie the freak munson had the hottest woman around and two of the prettiest and most talented daughters in the world.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Eddie sighs. “Talking to my girls like that?”

“They are just jackasses who can’t even play guitar.” Steve scoffs once more, looking past Eddie to check the door. “Ah, there they are. DUSTIN! ERICA!”

Dustin spots them, smiling as he holds Erica’s hand and shuffles closer to them. “Is Mike coming?”

“No. He has a date to make El jealous.” Nancy laughs.

“Where is El tonight?”

“Going out with Max.” Nancy explains, and Eddie feels you tense under his hand. He casts you a quick look to make sure you’re okay, watching Ziggy lay her head on your chest as she plays with your necklace.

“You good?”

“Yup.” Your answer is clipped, and Ziggy lifts her head up to copy you with a ‘yupyup.’

“Where’s Lucas?” Steve asks Erica, leaning to kiss her forehead.

“He had an away game. Asked us to film it.”

“Then asked me to stop dating his sister.” Dustin laughs which makes Steve and Eddie break out in their own fit of laughter.

“Da-Ed-ay.” Ziggy giggles, reaching for him so he grabs her quickly, kissing her lips to make her happy.

“I’m sorry? Did she just mix daddy and Eddie?” Steve gasps and Eddie shrugs.

“I’m telling ya, my girls are geniuses.” He smiles, leading you into the auditorium so watch Motley's recital.

He sits with Ziggy on his lap, holding your hand tightly in his own as Steve pulls out a camera and squats in the aisle to film everything.

Motley and Vinny come up to do their dance, the audience laughing loudly when Motley steps on Vinnys foot after he tries to trip her. They both blush, Vinny takes a bow and Motley holds up a rock sign, which makes Eddie cheer loudly and stand up to yell for her.

Song Inspo for this blurb hereeeeee

“Aruba, Jamaica, ooo I wanna take her.” Eddie sings, holding Ziggy on his shoulders easily as he dances with you. The Hawaiian shirt you picked out for him is light on his skin as the sun beats down on you both, the sweat from the day sticking to him.

This was the fourth of July celebration, everyone in the group met at the beach to enjoy the day…… which meant Steve had shown up at 4 am to save the spot. Eddie had already applied sunscreen onto Motley and Ziggy twice, you had done it three times and you both were still scared that the girls would burn.

You had gotten Ziggy the cutest toddler beach outfit, that included a purple swimsuit; hat; and sunglasses. And his baby girl looked absolutely rocking.

Then Motley got her very own swimsuit, inspired by her favorite artist of the time Tiffany, and Eddie (who had been practicing braiding hair for weeks, your scalp was sore.) had put her hair into two pleats that she had proudly shown to her Aunt Robin who had spent the next 30 minutes complimenting her favorite niece.

“Daddy Eddie! Come swim!” She yells out, running up to him. “Puh-lease!”

Now here was the problem, Eddie hated showing his abdomen in front of his friends. It was easy for Steve, who liked to say the scarring was Tom Cruise's amount of cool. Eddie however had never shown them how disgusting his scars were.

“Daddy daddy daddy.” She calls, jumping up and down as Vinny dashes past to get to Dustin. “We’re gonna play chicken and I need my daddy.”

“Maybe Uncle Lucas can help you.” He mumbles, squatting down with Ziggy still on his shoulders, the toddler pulling at his hair sharply as she blubbers.

“I don’t want Uncle Lucas. I want my daddy! Only you can help me!” She cries, grabbing his arms. His heart melts, and he tries to smile.

“Okay pretty girl. Let me get Ziggy settled.” He sighs and she lights up, dashing to go tell Vinny as Eddie moves to hand you Ziggy.

“I’m gonna help El set out the food. Be careful.” You mumble, leaning to kiss his lips before moving to the table as Ziggy waves over your shoulder. Eddie takes his shirt off, rubbing his abdomen in worry as he makes his way to the water where Motley now stood.

“See?! My daddy has cool ass scars because he’s awesome and he’s gonna kick your slimy little ass.” Motley brags to Dustin, who stares at her with wide eyes that make Eddie laugh.

“Language, pretty girl.”

“Sorry.” She blushes, turning back to Dustin. “My daddy has sick scars and he’s gonna beat your toothless ass.”

“Woah.”

And suddenly Eddie felt a little better about his scars, smiling from ear to ear as he lifted Motley up, dashing into the water to help her win a game of chicken.

Thanksgiving was spent at yours and Eddies house, after hours in the kitchen and a quick fit from Motley you had fully prepped the table.

Now everyone sat around it, trying not to laugh as Dustin tries to convince you to eat the mac n cheese he made, practically shoving the spoon in your mouth.

“No! I eat that and I die!” You laugh, slapping the spoon away.

“Who would take care of the kids?” Jonathan gasps in fake astonishment. “Me right?”

“You’d only get the kids if Lucas died.” You shrug which makes Lucas smile in triumph.

“I knew it-”

“And you only get my girls if Erica dies.” Eddie interrupts. “And that’s if Dustin is dead.”

A laugh tears from your throat as Dustin claps, but you’re quick to stop him. “And that’s if Steve is dead.”

“And if Steve has them then Nancy is dead.” Eddie laughs.

“Who has to die for me to get them?!” Mike asks, face red and puffy. El laughs and Max rolls her eyes.

“Let me guess, if Nancy has them then I am dead?” Max scoffs, and you go a bit tense.

“Well in this entire hypothesis that means I am dead, so that’s a bit mean.” Eddie giggles. “Because if my girl is dead then they go to me.”

“No they wouldn’t.” Max laughs, which makes the table go a little quiet. “They’d go to their dad.”

“What?” Eddie asks as Motley giggles out a “PAPA!”

He turns to you, eyes wide. “That true?”

“Technically yes.” You mumble out, looking extremely guilty. “But only because-”

Eddie doesn’t want to hear anymore, he slams his silverware down and storms down the hall, slamming the door loudly.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry-” Max starts, only to have you glare at her and move to grab Ziggy.

It had been a week since Eddie talked to you, he slept on the couch and only talked to the girls. The only communication he had with you was through the girls, and that was it.

He made them pancakes, and took them to school and daycare.

Right now he sat in Ziggys nursery as he tried to get her ready for the day, her only in a diaper as he sat in front of her.

“Aw, come on. Gimme a smile, little baby.” He coos, wiggling his shoulders. “It’s such a cute dress and you know you want to wear it. Huh?”

“No, Da-Ed-ay.” She giggles. “Wuv yu.”

“Aww. I wuv yu too.” He laughs. “In fact I love you THIS MUCH!”

He opens his arms out wide which makes her giggle. “How much do you love me?”

“Dis Muck.” She giggles, opening her own arms wide.

“Our arms are open, we gotta hug.” He laughs, pulling her in quickly which makes her scream and giggle, pushing him away as he kisses her stomach over and over.

“PAPA IS HERE!” Motley screams from the living room which makes Eddie whip his head around to the door that had been closed.

What? “MOMMY! MOMMY MOMMY! IT’S PAPA!”

Eddie stands up quickly, Ziggy in his arms as he swings the door open, meeting your shocked face as you come up the stairs.

“Did she say-?” He starts.

“I’m hoping not.” But as you are saying it there is a knock on the front door. So Eddie makes his way to the living room with Ziggy in his arms as you run to catch Motley before she answers the door.

Choosing to do it yourself, Eddie watches with his heart in his stomach as the door swings open and he is met with-

No.Fucking. Way.

Part ll HERE

(Would y'all want a part 2? If you send in requests for blurbs or scenarios of Eddie and the girls I will 100% write them. Send em in.)

Taglist:: (let me know if you want to be removed)

@localemofreak @paradise-summertime @jenniquinn @eddiesxangel

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