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itadorisgf · 9 months ago
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SUGAR N SPICE - NANAMI KENTO
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or nanami kento as your sugar daddy
- note: i’ve been thinking a lot about nanami and yeah <333 also i have no fucking clue how sugar daddies work lmfao
- edit: this turned out way longer than i expected
- ft. nanami kento
- warning: cursing, nsfw
- tagging : @miitsukai hey bae 😆😆
- GOJO SATORU EDITION
⤷ main page
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NANAMI KENTO
first, let’s get this out of the way, nanami kento is so fucking hot.
your arrangement is formal. you probably meet through a sugar daddy website. at first you’re skeptical because it seems a little too good to be true like here’s this man who’s not that old, hot, and not a fucking creep? sign me up!
but for real, you’re cautious after being scammed a few too many times.
during the first conversation, nanami lays out his expectations and rules if you want to be his sugar baby. he’ll wire you a set amount of money every two weeks. he doesn’t expect much from you in return besides companionship in the form of texting, calling, and taking you out when he has the chance to. he states that he has no expectations of more sexual favors and does not wish to pressure you into anything if you are uncomfortable.
uhhhh, is this man real????? you’re definitely surprised that he doesn’t expect sex in exchange for money, but you’re not going to complain.
he’s a lil stiff and formal, but he’s polite and you got bills to pay, so you easily agree to the arrangement.
you two probably don’t meet up for awhile. nanami’s often occupied with work, but you text frequently. you’re surprised that he shows genuine interest in your life and what you do.
he asks about your day and inquires about things you’ve mentioned offhandedly, which is strangely touching.
when you ask about his day in return, he just says “work is work” and then proceeds to talk about how it’s shit.
you almost choked on your spit when you first read that. it’s not often that nanami curses so you found it amusing how much he loathed work, especially when he was forced to work overtime.
he calls you once a week on fridays. the first time you heard his voice, let’s just say it got you feeling some type of way to say the least.
don’t even get me started on the first time he took you out. it’s at the end of one of his weekly calls that he tells you he’d like to take you out next saturday.  you don’t have any other plans so you agree and nanami informs you that he’ll send you some extra money so you can buy yourself a new outfit for your date.
he sends you way too fucking much for a simple outfit, but you’re not complaining. it takes you awhile to decide what to wear, but eventually you choose to purchase a simple black dress. it’s not too showy or revealing besides the slit up your thigh and the low neckline.
you’re nervous when saturday evening rolls around because it’s going to be the first time you’ve actually met up with nanami???? what if he’s actually a creep??
you’re not given much time to think further when your doorbell rings. opening the door, you are taken aback by how fucking hot he is. pictures really do not do this man justice. he’s dressed in tan slacks and a white button up shirt with the top buttons undone. it takes you a moment to snap out of it and he leads you to his car, which is really fucking nice, holy shit.
in the car, he tells you that the dress you’re wearing suits you and that he’s taking you to a restaurant downtown. despite your nerves, the conversation flows rather easily between the two of you. it seems that nanami is more interested in what you have to say with the way he continues to ask you questions.
nanami is really the perfect gentleman all throughout the night. he opens the car door for you, pulls out your chair, and actually listens to what you have to say.
at the end of the night, he leaves you on your doorstep with a kiss on the cheek.
although nanami doesn’t expect anything sexual from you doesn’t mean you don’t feel inclined to treat him. he always sounds so worn out and tired during your calls so you decide to send him a lil gift :)
said gift has nanami’s eyes widening when he unlocks his phone to see the rather explicit picture you sent him that leaves little to the imagination with an accompanying text that read “hope you like the set im wearing, thought of you when i bought it.”
although unexpected, the image is definitely not unappreciated. the sage green lingerie set clings to your skin and hugs your body in all the right places, highlighting your best attributes. nanami’s eyes trail over the bralette, noticing how sheer it is, to the point where he can make out the outline of your nipples underneath.
you’re a fucking tease, full-well knowing that he was at work when you sent that image. nanami had to lie when gojo asked what was so interesting on his phone.
your phone dings and you’re eager to see what nanami’s response is since your “relationship” wasn’t exactly sexual. it’s your turn for your eyes to widen when you read nanami’s response: “i’m coming over after i finish work. i expect that to be the only thing you’re wearing when you greet me at the door.”
the text’s tone has shivers crawling up your spine. you can’t wait to see what nanami has in store.
the hours seem to drag on and by the time your doorbell rings signaling nanami’s arrival, you’re racing to unlock the door - eager but nervous for what’s to come.
you lock the door behind nanami. he doesn’t say anything at first and the uncomfortable silence has you fidgeting.
“at least you can follow directions,” nanami sighs, his tone disinterested. your head snaps up and you shrink under nanami’s gaze. his eyes trace over your figure as if he’s inspecting you.
“where’s your bedroom?” you shuffle down the hall and lead him to your room. nanami sits on the edge of your bed, loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves. god, he really is fucking hot.
he pats his knee and it takes you a moment to realize what he’s asking of you. you walk over and drape yourself over his knee, arching your back so your ass is up for him. he places his hand on one of your cheeks, massaging the skin there. his palm is rough as he kneads the flesh of your ass.
“you know what the stop light system is?”
you nod and yelp when nanami lands a harsh smack to your left butt cheek. “use your words when i ask you a question.” his hand soothes the ache of the blow. “now, do you know what the stop light system is?”
“yes.”
“good.” he lowly hums. “i did not appreciate that little stunt you pulled while i was at work.”
your breath hitches when his hand trails up your spine, wrapping around the column of your neck and pulling you up until his mouth brushes against your ear. “now, you’re going to be good and count the number of spankings i give you. since this is your first time, i’ll only give you five on each cheek.”
“i understand.” nanami releases your neck, letting you hang over his knee once more. nanami’s blows are hard and quick, and by the time it’s over, you have tears beading at the corner of your eyes.
“color?” nanami asks, massaging the reddened skin with one of his hands.
“green,” you manage to croak out. nanami shifts you until you’re sitting up in his lap, your legs on either side of his waist, straddling him. with his thumb, he wipes away your tears. “you did so good for me.”
he runs his hands up and down your thighs until they settle on top of your hips. his nose nudges against your jaw, lips skimming against your neck as he breathes out, “perhaps you deserve a reward.”
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cafedanslanuit · 6 months ago
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calling them by the wrong name [a tiktok prank] ft. eren, armin, mikasa, jean, levi, reiner, annie and porco
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♡   —   tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, gn!reader
♡   —   a/n: set in a modern au, they’re all around college age <3
♡   —   masterlist
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eren
- you usually got into playfights with eren and he loved to end them by tickling you. he usually won but unfortunately he had no clue to were about to prank him once again
- “sdfkhj stop! j-jean stop!” you laughed, squirming under his hands
- eren stopped immediately, kneeling in front of you on the bed, eyebrows knitted together as he looked down at you
- “the fuck did you just call me?”
- “what?” you asked “i said ‘baby, stop’”
- “you said jean,” eren said. “you play with jean like this?”
- eren was so serious and looked so mortified you couldn’t keep up the charade and pointed at your phone recording the whole thing from the nightstand.
- you could visibly see his tense muscles drop once he realized it’s another prank and then squinted at you. “you think you’re so funny, huh?” he asked while you started laughing
- he grabbed both your legs and pulled you closer, leaning down and capturing your lips in a heated kiss.
- oh no you’ve awaken possessive!eren enjoy the ride
armin
- you had just woken up, sharing the morning bliss with armin in your shared kitchen. he handed you the newspaper as he prepared coffee for both of you
- “levi, can you hand me my glasses, please?” you asked, trying and failing to read the newspaper in front of you.
- armin stopped in his motions and walked to you, who were sitting on the kitchen table. you looked up to him, confused. “my glasses, baby?”
- “you realize what you said, right?” he asked carefully. you cocked your head to the side, feigning ignorance.
- “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”
- armin stood still, his blue eyes on you as you could practically listen how loud his thoughts were at the moment, trying to see if you’re lying or if, in fact, he didn’t heard correctly the first time
- a minute goes by and he was still not moving, just staring at you and when his eyes started filling with tears you felt bad for him. “oh no, no, no, baby, it’s a prank,” you say, pointing at your phone.
- armin lets out a long sigh and hangs his head low. “you’re so mean!”
- go and hug your man please
mikasa
- mikasa and you were working on your backyard garden. mikasa was usually in charge of it but this time you loved whenever she let you join her
- “annie, could you pass me the trowel?”
- mikasa stopped in her movements and then turned her head to you. “annie?”
- “huh?” you asked. “what do you mean?”
- “you just called me annie” she said, sitting back on her heels, a noticeable frown on her face. she shook the dirt off her gloves and left them on the ground, standing up and turning to leave.
- “wait no, it was a joke for tiktok!” you say, grabbing her ankle and pointing at your phone that was propped on her tool box.
- “i’m out of here,” she sighed, rolling her eyes as she started walking again with you attached to her ankle
- “‘kasa, pleeeeeeeease!
jean
- you were cuddling with jean when he said he was going to the kitchen to get something to drink. he stood up and just as he was leaving the bedroom you called out for him
- “could you get me some snacks too, eren? thank you!”
- this mf went back on his tracks and looked at you like you had just insulted his whole family
- “you did not just call me eren”
- “what? i would never, baby, what are you talking about?”
- “no, stop, you just did,” he said, his voice breaking a little. “are you and eren… i don’t know- are you-?
- you didn’t have it in you to continue the joke, sprinting and colliding against him, pulling him into a hug
- “i’m so sorry, it was a prank! jean, baby, it was a stupid prank oh my god i’m so sorry-”
- anyway he was extra cuddly that night. reassure him he’s the only one, please.
levi
- sitting on your balcony and sharing tea with levi was one of your favourite habits
- levi was done with his cup and started pouring himself more tea from the little teapot that was in the table
- “armin-- i mean, baby, could you pour me more tea as well, please?”
- levi kept pouring the tea without reacting to your words and then poured some on your cup as well.
- “you’re spending way too much time with those brats,” he grunted, putting the pot back on the table and handing you your cup.
- “jealous?” you teased him with a flirty grin. levi rolled his eyes.
- “whatever helps you sleep at night”
- he sees you chuckling and suddenly the pieces fall together. “not another fucking tiktok prank,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
reiner
- you were cooking with him, stirring the pot as he chopped vegetables for the stew.
- “pock-- shit, reiner, could you pass me the carrots please?”
- you noticed reiner stopping for a moment. you prepared yourself for his response but instead he handed you the cup with diced carrots for the stew in silence.
- you poured them to the stew but he kept silent. “hey babe, wanna watch a movie while we have dinner?”
- “sure, sounds fun,” he replied with a small smile that doesn’t meet his eyes.
- your heart broke into a million pieces and you quickly went and hugged him tightly, pressing your face against his broad chest
- “reiner, it was a prank, oh my god, i’m so sorry.”
- you heard his sigh, the tension leaving his body as he wrapped his arms around you.
- (there’s a cut on your tiktok video and then a take of you peppering his face with kisses as an apology)
annie
- you were watching a movie with annie and lowkey getting bored, so you decided to pull the prank you had been preparing
- “‘kasa, the popcorn, please?” you said, your eyes locked on the tv screen as you moved your hand towards your girlfriend.
- she literally slapped your hand away
- “wha- baby!?”
- annie paused the movie and turned to you, arching her eyebrow. “you think you’re so funny”
- “what do you mean?
- “you know exactly what i mean. so this better be a joke or else-”
- “or else what?” you giggled, grabbing your phone and filming your girlfriend.
- she rolled her eyes and when you tried to crawl to her, she quickly used her leg and pushed you away.
- “no clowns allowed in my personal space.”
porco
- it was date night and you guys were in a diner, talking about your week and spending quality time together. so of course you decided to pull the prank you’d seen on tiktok
- “rei, could you pass the ketchup?”
- porco widened his eyes and put his burger down.
- “this better be a fucking tiktok prank,” he huffed
- “what do you mean?”
- “you just said ‘rei’ like i’m that dumbass- wait, no, where is it-,” porco says as he starts looking around for your phone.
- “HA!!!! i fucking knew it!” he goes as soon as he finds it hidden behind the salt shaker. you laughed as he grabbed your phone and started filming you.
- “what would you do if it wasn’t a prank?” you grinned.
- “well you better hope you brought your own ride because i’d leave you here,” he smirked, earning another laugh from you.
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burnedbyshoto · 5 months ago
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indulge me
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indulge me: an arrangement
— Being a secret little girl in the modern world is rough, but it becomes much more chaotic when a classmate of yours offers to be your new daddy dom.
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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader
warnings: 18+, smut, nsfw, ddlg dynamic, college!au, modern!au, daddy!shouto, little girl!reader, I am not well versed in this dynamic please do not use this as an educational source, dom!shouto, sub!reader, biting, marking, mating press, nipple play (both), spanking, oral, gagging, choking, praise, degradation, little space
word count: 13,547
a/n: this is a commission for @bakusbiatch​ thank you for your endless amount fo patience as it took me 100x longer than ever to write this
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If there was something you knew now that you completely did not understand at the age of eighteen was the entire dynamics of sex. To be fair, after an adolescence of watching porn, reading erotica, and even gossiping between friends, it was, without doubt, that you were entirely clueless about real, healthy dynamics.
First off, the first time you had sex was super uncomfortable. 
There was no break or even space for pleasure to build in because you had been so tense, so awkward that you remained rigid and still the entire three minutes the guy fucked into you. You remember his sweat-soaked body collapsing on top of you, his eyes seeing galaxies in the stuffy, now smelly room as he breathed out a ‘Woah.’
You had smiled at him stiffly, letting his softening dick flop out of your dry vagina and curled in on yourself as he snuggled into you, praising the world and everything around it for this moment. It was without saying that you left his cum stained sheets and ran back home.
Sex sucked.
But that was when you were seventeen and made the terrible decision on fucking your friend with whom you had scary sexual tension. You avoided sex to your best ability after that, not so much as caring to allow anyone to touch you because that was disappointing. Why would you go through that when your fingers sufficed much better? Why go through that awkward tension when you didn’t have any moments of awkwardness when reading smut?!
Audios were better.
Words were best.
But, as one does, you fell in love against your will to a boy just a few months older than you. His smile was soft, and his words were kind, but oh, did his touch drive you hot and mad. You weren’t exactly sure how long you had lasted, how much perseverance you had kept when the two of you would fall onto his (thank fucking god) clean sheets, his strong hands and fingers keeping your hips close to his as you kissed him as if you couldn’t live without his touch.
“Are you… are you ready?” he had asked, his shirt thrown into the abyss of his room and the button of your jeans undone, revealing the simple set of panties you had on. “I don’t want to—”
“I’m ready,” you interrupt him, your body practically burning from the inside out with the desperate need and lust for him to fuck you. “I’m ready.”
He stills, his tongue peeking past his lips before a slow, chilling grin spreads against his mouth.
“Okay,” he nods, “can I ask you to do something, though?”
You, in your desperation to get his dick out of his sweats and buried deep into your throbbing cunt, nod.
“I have a daddy kink… I really, really like the daddy little girl dynamics,” he breathes, palms pressing to your knees and dragging down your inner thighs in a teasing, near authoritative way. “Can we… are you interested in trying it?”
Now, although you had largely avoided sex, toys and fingers weren’t nearly enough to replace the overwhelming need to be touched, fucked, and worshipped by another human being. You had fucked plenty of people who had always claimed to have kinks and fetishes. Most of the men you had in bed who said they had a daddy kink only liked being addressed as daddy; that was it. There was no true dynamic, just a play on the power the title brought them.
So, in the naive, childish way you were, you agreed.
You listened to his every command in bed, thrilled and keened under his praise for his princess, for his little girl, and you ate it up, thanking and praising your daddy. The sex ended with you cumming so hard you went blind for a moment, so dizzy from your high. As the both of you drifted off to sleep, you had no clue when you woke up in the morning he would present you with a little girl starter package made by him for you specifically. It was then that you realized that dynamics were an actual thing, and as he presented you a checklist of kinks, toys, and rules he laid out, you realized that nothing you had ever experienced — real or fictional — could have prepared you for this.
The two of you went through the list and rules together, your eyes widening and face blazing with embarrassment as he described his expectations and needs with this dynamic. You nodded, so completely lost in this entire thing that you agreed with most everything he offered and wanted.
The one rule you did have didn’t necessarily surprise him.
The dynamic was to remain a secret, you asserted, unable to budge on this thought. You could be his little girl, but it was to stay in private, never in public. And he tilted his head in thought but ultimately agreed with a smile. He thought you’d one day stop being in the closet over this kink, and you thought the opposite.
And time moves forward; it’s rigid and unforgiving. Two years into a relationship, a year and a half into the dynamic, you and your daddy break up, and you, against all odds, are left scrambling for a daddy you never realized you needed.
What was a girl to do?
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Your head is angled downward, and the hood that sits on your head is not concealing your face as well as you would have liked. It was without saying that you were a woman of pride. You took great care of what you did, how people viewed you, and how you presented yourself to the world. Most days, you always exited your small apartment as an excellent student who was always wearing properly done makeup and stylish outfits. 
Your style screamed confident woman (not little girl, you absolutely refused to wear anything cutesy in public), and you walked with your chin raised and eyes on the horizon.
To see that you were in sweats, an oversized hoodie, no makeup on, and perusing the store's area made for young girls and toddlers, was a shock. You had made sure to come nearly thirty minutes before closing; no one would be here to accidentally see you, no one could see you in your embarrassing shame-picking for your dynamic. All because your newest daddy couldn’t afford to buy you new things since your old ones had your ex’s name or brand all over it.
This was for the best; you reminded yourself as you haphazardly threw the items within the basket, face flaming as you ignored the temptation to simply stand in the aisle and flip through the sticker book and coloring book you recently tossed into the cart. You were fine; you already had your plan of action on what to say when purchasing these items.
‘My sister is pregnant again, and she already has a kid,’ you mentally rehearsed, imagining an excited smile on your face because you are excited for this imaginary pregnant sister of yours. ‘It’s a present for the baby and the brat.’
Solid.
Perfect.
Beautiful.
Making sure to quickly take note of what was inside the basket, you spun on your heel and marched your way through the empty store to the deserted register.
You kept your head down as you placed the basket on the conveyor belt, easy peasy, you would be fine!
“Found everything you were looking for?” a voice asks, piercing through your mental rehearsal just in case you got questions. 
You blink, head raising up, exposing your face to the person behind the register.
It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal.
Checking things out at the register wasn’t supposed to be all that embarrassing. I mean, what could top having to buy pads and tampons from a creepy, greasy old man during your very first period ever?! But you had to admit seeing a familiar face behind the register as he began to scan the items in your cart kinda made it a big deal.
Todoroki Shouto read his name tag, and ‘TODOROKI SHOUTO?!’ screamed your heart. 
Oh, how to describe Todoroki Shouto, well you didn’t even know where to begin.
Shouto was one thousand percent a supermodel that has yet to be recruited. He could probably be a top star athlete, good enough to go overseas if he wanted. He was a genius. Someone who was somehow friends with everyone he came across even though he was a man of few words. 
He stood tall behind the register, the tight black high collared shirt sitting beneath a light blue opened dress shirt. His distinctive red and white slightly wavy hair — all-natural, you believe — pushed back in a way that you would bet to hell and back that he had run his fingers through it. For the past three years in university, you had more than a few classes with this stunning man. You two shared the same major, and he often sat at the back of the classroom, but you were nearly hyperaware of everything he did because his voice was liquid honey and sex and everything that was —
“You can let go of the basket,” Shouto cut through your thoughts, and you gasped loudly, suddenly realizing that you had zoned out thinking about him.
Your hand lets go of the basket, and you slap your sweater-covered hands over your mouth; horror strikes through you like a blazing sword. You weren’t wearing makeup, you were in trash clothes, and you were in front of a man you had lusting feelings over!
NO!
“Sorry!” you squeak, your heart and bile rising up your throat at alarming rates as Shouto merely smiles at you in understanding. “This is all stuff for my sister!”
Shouto blinks, his head tilting to the side as he scans a sippy cup.
“Your sister’s quite young,” he remarks easily, trying not to make you feel stupider—probably.
Tell the lie, y/n, you chide yourself as you shift your weight.
“Ah, well, not actually my sister,” you explain, fingers scratching against your scalp. “My sister is pregnant r-right now, and she already has a little one, so I thought that this would be a good… present?”
Nailed it.
Shouto’s eyebrows quirk, a small smile spreading across his face as he scans the plush doll. 
“That’s very kind of you; you must have a good relationship with your sister.”
“O-Oh yeah, we’re very close.”
“And would you say that this is something appropriate to give to a pregnant family member and their child?”
You froze and looked down at the items you had hastily thrown into the basket.
It was a pacifier, sippy cup, baby blanket, choker, coloring books, stuffed animal, candy, and stickers.
You choked, feeling heat exploding in your cheeks all over again; absolutely not. This was not something to give to a pregnant woman.
“My sister is pregnant,” Shouto explains, definitely sensing your poorly concealed stress, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m the youngest of my siblings, so I don’t really know what to buy her.”
“Absolutely the fuck not.”
Shouto blinked, and before you could start screaming apologies over your rudeness, he began laughing loudly. Your face continued to burn in your utter humiliation and shame, but Shouto only found amusement in this all as he began to place your items away in a bag. 
“What are your recommendations then?” Shouto finally asked, his lips pulled back into an easy, teasing grin. “And that’ll be forty-eight seventy-three.”
You shoved your card into the chip scanner immediately, your gaze everywhere but on him.
“I think you should get whatever your sister wants or still needs,” you quickly say, eyes now focusing on the Approved message on the machine. “Every person is different.”
“I suppose,” Shouto agrees, his arms crossing against his chest, and you have to resist the temptation to ogle at the way his muscles become sinfully pronounced. “Well, I won’t hold you up. See you in lecture tomorrow, y/l/n.”
“Bye!” you squawk, grabbing your bag and racing out.
His eyes burn into your back the entire rush out of the store, but you find that you can’t seem to worry about that. You’re much more elated and somehow horrified at the realization that he knew exactly who you were.
Step zero of who knows how many to get Todoroki Shouto to fall in love with you, complete!
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“So, about the upcoming paper assignment, I’m sure you’re all eager to get started on,” your professor’s voice boomed throughout the lecture hall, his arms folding across his chest as he leans against the podium with an easy grin. “I decided that I would be nice and allow for some partnering up!”
Your eyes widened as excited murmurs exploded through the classroom. 
Partners for a ten-page paper? You were going to thank god almighty. 
But, at the same time, you frowned. This was a class where you didn’t exactly know anyone. It was a course outside of your own major, and with your usual friends not in this class, you knew that you were going to have to go out of your way to find a partner. You withered a bit in your chair, not entirely on board with that train of thought.
“There are an uneven amount of you guys in the class, though,” your professor continued, still sporting that easy grin on his face. “And I decided that instead of having too many groups of three, and because I was so nice to allow partner work, I decided to make the partners. Look at the pinned paper at the door for your partner or partners for the group of three! No, I will not allow trades, and no, I will not allow complaining! Be grateful!”
Hopeful and exasperated murmurs sounded through the room as the professor dismissed the class and frantic movement followed after. Even as old as they were, everyone was desperate and eager to see who a random generator assigned them to. Packing up swiftly, you threw your bag over your shoulder and began walking towards the list. 
You wonder who you were gonna get.
“Y/l/n,” a voice spoke softly, lowly by your ear.
You whipped around — one part startled, a second part curious — and came to see Todoroki Shouto standing slightly behind you. His gaze was at the wall for a moment, dropping only when you were looking up at him. He smiles slowly, and you feel your chest tighten.
Oh boy.
“Todoroki,” you smile, attempting to relax completely in front of him. “Any hopes as to who’s your partner?”
“Well, as long as it isn’t Sero, I think it’ll be okay,” Shouto’s eyes crinkle with his deepened smile. “Last time I did a paper with him, we did it completely high—” you choke, eyes widening at the thought of trying to be eloquent enough to write a paper while high. “—It was terrible.”
“Oh, I bet,” you laugh, arms crossing across your chest as the two of you begin inching forward within the crowd, others leaving with proud laughs, curious frowns, or aggravated groans. “But at least it sounds like it was turned in?”
“It was,” Shouto nods, his teeth flashing as he finally tears his gaze from you. “Oh, would you look at that?”
You hum, eyes squinting as you try to read the list through the many heads before you.
Y/l/n, Todoroki S.
“Would you look at that.”
“Seems like we’re partners,” you laugh, relief and horror flooding your body.
“I’m glad it’s you.”
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So, it was decided that with the two weeks given to write the paper and taking Shouto’s job into account, this paper was to be written as soon as possible. The suggestion of working on it together in the same room and not just through google doc was brought up and agreed upon. So with consensus on that, the matter of where it was going to happen was brought up.
“We can do it at my place,” Shouto offered with a shrug, “my house is pretty big.”
“I don’t have a car,” you interject, a frown on your face — you wanted to see his house. “My apartment is five minutes from campus. Is that alright?”
A smile.
“That’s perfect.”
And so, on a Friday afternoon, you found yourself already apologizing profusely as you walked up the staircase that smelled just a tiny bit of cheese. You warned him about the mess of your apartment. About how not to judge you on any and all messes you might have made on your way out! That you would have cleaned up had you known this was happening!
“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Shouto spoke, attempting to ease your anxiety as you push your key in the doorknob and turn it. “I really don’t mind a messy place.”
“Ha, well, this is it,” you say, your face feeling disgustingly warm as you breach the entrance to your small one bedroom one bathroom place. “Leave your shoes right there, and we can head in!”
Toeing off your own shoes, you scrambled into the apartment, eyes wide as you attempted to make sure that nothing was crazily messy or out of place. There wasn’t any dirty laundry or undergarments anywhere? No, good!
Shouto locks the door behind himself, a chuckle at the back of his throat vibrating in his chest as he watches you skirt about. He looks down at the shoes you were wearing, white sneakers, and smirks at how small they look compared to his. He never really thought he was that tall or big, to be honest. It was a decent size for someone from his family, but it amused him greatly to see his things pushed against yours.
He looked back up, eyes landing on your flustered face as you stood by a table in the kitchen area.
“Ready?” he asked, hands shoving into his pockets.
“I believe so!”
And for some reason, probably the very same reason that had him entranced by you, Shouto laughs and steps foot into your apartment.
The paper itself isn’t that hard.
It’s an argumentative piece mostly on a Green Act proposal that was currently being debated within the government body. A paper that was fifty percent argument was something you were elated to have, but the other fifty percent was using sources and articles to further back your point. It was now two hours into the paper writing, takeout filling the empty spaces between the table as Shouto’s laughter and your ranting filled the open air. It was nice; he was nice to hang out with.
“I’m just saying we are nearing a universal climate disaster, and I do not want to be wondering when I will die because some fat old men with huge wallets want to continue getting richer!” you yelled, your chest heaving with your lack of proper air. “It’s dumb!”
“I bet if you grabbed ahold of their favorite toupees, they’d fold and agree,” Shouto teases, his grin covered by the mug he’s currently drinking tea from. “I’ll bail you out of prison.”
“I wouldn’t go to prison for that,” you argue, arms folding across your chest as you shake your head in solemn understanding. “They’d murder me and make it look like an accident.”
“Dark.”
“You know it.”
“I’ll avenge you.”
“You better, or else I’ll blame you for my murder.”
Shouto’s jaw dropped, ready to retaliate with something else, but he was interrupted by a loud call from your phone. You frowned, head tilting as you pulled your phone out from your jean pocket and stared at the screen.
Incoming call from: dd.
“I have to take this,” you say apologetically, standing up as you answered the call. You waited until you were in your bedroom before placing the phone to your head, your heart hammering with the unknown. “Hello?”
.
Shouto heard the click of your bedroom door, and he sighed, leaning back into his chair. His eyes looked up at the ceiling, momentarily bored now that he wasn’t with you. He wondered who ‘dd’ was and if you were alright. He hoped it wasn’t anything serious.
Grabbing his water cup, Shouto frowned, seeing that it was empty. He looked over at the sink where you had initially filled up the water cups. You wouldn’t mind if he filled it up on his own, right? Shouto pushed back his chair and stood, the cup resting in his fingers as he walked over towards the sink with a light hum.
He filled the cup slowly, not wanting to make too much noise. But as he stared at the drying dishes on your dish holder, he frowned at the sight of the pink sippy cup you had bought from the store last week. It was cleaned, obviously used, and he tilted his head.
Weird.
The cupboard was open, and Shouto couldn’t help but look into the dark wood and startled once again when he took in the neatly folded bib and the nearly innocuous pacifier sitting on top of it. Untouched, undisturbed, but used — definitely used.
Frowning, he took a slow, long drink of his water as he stared out towards the small living room you had. There, sitting on the wood coffee table, was the coloring book you had also purchased. That wasn’t adding up… if they were for your sister’s kids, why were they here? It didn’t exactly seem like the place to be holding them. 
Shouto thought, trying to figure out just why you had all these things for… well, children.
Was testing products on your own a thing people did?
Well, yes, he supposed so, but these were already licensed products. The coloring book, well, he guesses that was a pretty normal thing! Drawing and coloring were everyday stress relieves — his mother often used that to help herself. But a pacifier, a bip, and a sippy cup? The only thing he could rationalize with that was—
“You’re being fucking ridiculous, daddy!” your voice harshly whispered (maybe ridiculed and mocked) from your room, just loud enough that Shouto heard, and his eyes widened.
Oh.
Ohh fuck.
.
.
.
“You know what, this isn’t working,” you scoff, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as you roll your eyes to the heavens above. “This was a good trial run, but I’m going to have to end this. This is not what I was looking for.”
“Come on, brat, you know you don’t mean that—”
You hung up, your fingers curled in a fist as you growled lowly at the screen. You wasted no time in blocking the number. What a fucking terrible daddy he was. Didn’t buy you anything, didn’t support you, or help you. There was no dynamic in this relationship. It was just a power-hungry dom with a streak for being called daddy.
A fucking poser at best.
Rolling your eyes, you tossed your phone onto your bed and walked out of your room back to the main area of your place. You looked at Shouto, who was sitting in his chair, his face bored, maybe a bit tired, and his face was concentrated on his phone — he was idly scrolling through it.
“Sorry that took so long,” you apologize, slinking back onto your chair, hands rubbing your face. “I tried to be fast about that.”
Shouto peered past the top of his phone, a comforting smile on his face, “Don’t worry about it; it wasn’t like we were intensely working on the paper anyways.”
You smile, slightly embarrassed. 
“That’s true, um—”
“I think it’s time—”
The both of you spoke over each other clumsily, awkwardly — both of you obviously thinking of something that wasn’t quite in front of you. Your smile feels less forced now, “we’re done for the day?”
Shouto shifts in his chair, his head dropping slightly in agreement, “I think that would be best. We did a lot today, though.”
“We did!” you agree with a laugh, standing up and grabbing the items off the table, assisting Shouto with getting ready to leave. “We’ll meet back up in two days?”
Shouto nods, “that sounds like a plan.”
You help him pack up, insisting that you could clean up the kitchen without his help. It takes a few minutes, but finally, you have him walking out of your place, a light wave on your hand before he exits onto the staircase. You close the door with a sigh.
Jesus Christ.
.
.
Shouto stands in the stairway, his eyes concentrated on his phone where he has a single question typed into his browser.
ddlg dynamics ↳ Let’s talk DDLG, also known as Daddy Dom Little Girl. It’s a submissive/dominant relationship where the dom is known as a “Daddy,” and the submissive is known as a “Little Girl.”
...Interesting.
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Now, you were a pretty paranoid person; you could admit that. 
You didn’t like being paranoid, but you were. Most days, you always triple-checked you weren’t being followed, quadruple-checked you had your school assignments turned in and your things in your bag. With your sex life and part of your social life being introduced to the ddlg dynamic, your paranoia grew even more.
Most people weren’t understanding — they weren’t. They assumed this dynamic was simply calling your dom daddy in bed and getting called princess in return! They always believed that, allowed for that. It was socially acceptable to call your dom daddy in bed, but god fucking forbid any other part of the dynamic come into play.
You remember reading comments in articles about grown women sitting in frilly skirts and diapers as part of her dynamic and watching grown adults tear her apart — skin and bones. That was the reaction you feared, you hated.
There was a reason why you enjoyed sitting in your frilly skirts, in your white and baby pink clothes. You loved having your dom come home, tired and stressed, and ask you, his little girl, to sit on his lap while he distressed. You enjoyed the sippy cups that helped to melt your anxiety, and you enjoyed doing chores under your doms watchful eye.
The praises, the rewards were always so uplifting, and the sex was always on an intensity that made you tremble with explosive satisfaction. If your dom wanted you in diapers, you would negotiate appropriately, and you sure as hell didn’t need a fucking stranger’s opinion on whether or not that was ‘normal.’
But no amount of confidence you had in your dynamic had ever eased the bottomless paranoia and anxiety. 
Hence why after Shouto had left your apartment and you realized in horror that you had left out some damning evidence to your dynamic. The coloring book on your coffee table and the sippy cup that was obviously used were on full display. You wondered for a few hours, nearly spirling with anxiety if he had noticed — if that was why he was partially stiff as he left for the day. You had only managed to calm down when he had sent you a text later that night that he had enjoyed being over and was looking forward to working together the next day.
The praise was needed, seeping warm into your bones as you rolled over in your bed and knocked out.
You thought that you were in the clear. That that was as far as things were going to go, but your paranoia came back the next day in full force as you sat in a group with Shouto.
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“Do you want a sticker?”
That was the beginning of it all.
You had accepted the sticker without a second thought. Your typical barriers down because the lack of a dom in your life was throwing you for a bit. God, you were pathetic. You had smiled brightly, eagerly nodding as you thrust your hands out towards Shouto, waiting to receive a sticker. 
“Good job,” he had said with an endearing smile, “you deserve it.”
It was only then that the weight of what happened settled on your bones, and you froze.
Fuck.
Smiling stiffly, you pressed the sparkly pink star to your shirt and returned back to your assignment, unable to speak up again for some time.
You had hoped that it was going to end there, but it seemed that nothing about your life was going in your favor right now. 
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“Do you have a bedtime?” Shouto idly asked one late night when he was over, and you could not stop yawning to save your life. “I think everyone should go to bed at 10 p.m. on a school night, don’t you agree?”
You had choked on your saliva before disagreeing vehemently. 
“I don’t sleep until… like, um, three in the morning?” you make up, teeth tearing into your lip as you avoided eye contact.
“Such a bad girl,” Shouto murmured, much too low for you to pick up.
“What?!”
“That’s bad for your health,” he recovered with a smile.
“Oh… yeah, I suppose so.”
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“Y/l/n is a sub; she’s a brat about that,” Shouto said to the group you both were assigned to in yet another class the two of you shared.
You had been idly drinking from your coffee cup and was utterly zoned out when he said that. So when you had picked up his words, you nearly choked at the sentence, your eyes watering and your throat burning with your drink and humiliation as the entire table turned to look at you.
“Oh shit, are you okay?!” Mina asked, eyes wide.
“I’m a what?!” you splutter instead, eyes focused on Shouto and your cheeks beginning to burn with unsaid fear.
“You’re a substitute babysitter for your sister,” Shouto remarked, his head tilted as he feigned innocence. “You were telling me about that the other day, remember? Sero is trying to get into the babysitting gig too.”
You wanted to believe him, you wanted so desperately to believe that Shouto was just somehow landing a missile into every paranoid corner of your life without meaning to, but this was getting out of control. This was too on the head, too obvious to not say that he somehow saw your little things and pieced together the dynamic you’ve come to love and thrive in. But you couldn’t fess up; you wouldn’t give yourself to the wolves of embarrassment and shame over something you knew wasn’t wrong.
“Oh,” you say stiffly, smiling over at Sero, “I’m on an app that is used a lot by small families; I can text you the name?”
“I’d appreciate that!” Sero laughs, blissfully unaware of the rising tension between you and Shouto. “I didn’t think that high school girls had some type of business turf thing; they’re scary and aggressive!”
“It’s a serious job for high schoolers,” Mina waved him off, “this is the only thing most of them can do!”
The conversation between Sero and Mina began to drift off as you were staring at Shouto, unable to break the eye contact the both of you found yourselves connected by. You didn’t want to pull away, too bitter and anxious to. You were currently two weeks without a daddy dom in your life, and you knew that you should be able to have a better grasp on your life than this — you knew you couldn’t lean on this dynamic at every point in your life. But you were sad to admit that you were struggling to keep your head afloat. You felt like you were almost drowning, struggling to keep your composure as you needed a play or a simple scene.
But the confidence in Shouto’s eyes that were hidden behind the sheer curiosity and wonder was making your skin itch, making you want to grab him by the collar and bring him in close and demand to know exactly what he was thinking. 
He would not embarrass you.
He would not.
“Can I talk to you, Todoroki?” you asked, practically demanded of Shouto as the group of you began to stand at the table, readying to leave. 
If you noticed Mina’s and Sero’s eyebrows shoot up towards the ceiling, you didn’t say anything as Shouto paused in putting things into his backpack. His head tilted, but he nodded his head, “yeah, about what?”
“Don’t worry about it,” you smile stiffly, tossing your own backpack over your shoulder as you turn on your heel and immediately begin walking. Uncaring if he was following you or not. “Bye, Mina, Sero.”
There’s silence behind you before the heady sound of a chair scraping against the floor is heard and the long, quick strides of Shouto following after you. You exit the cafe you had been in, eyes squinting when the harsh rays of sun fall on your face, but you don’t hesitate or pause even once.
There’s no one outside right now; it’s just you and Shouto. 
You feel him at your shoulder, and you keep your gaze straight ahead, unwilling to look at him just yet. 
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” you finally whisper, your voice low and angry. You nearly spat them out at him, utterly humiliated and horrified that you were probably outing yourself should he just be that dense and annoyingly able to pick at your anxiety. “Stop it.”
“I don’t—” Shouto began, eyes wide and screaming of innocence that could make you cry.
“I know you saw my things, and I know you pieced it together,” you cut him off, your lips pursed tight. You suddenly stop in your tracks, tears burning at the back of your eyes as you turn to face Shouto. “So if you have a problem with that, I suggest that you kindly fuck off!”
Shouto stands next to you, hair hastily swept backward, hand on the strap of his bag, and his face telling you that you had miscalculated something. You prayed it wasn’t about how he knew about you being a little.
“I don’t have a problem with that,” Shouto admits, his hand raising to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t think you’re weird or strange or bad for being into the ddlg dynamic. I’m actually… I take part in it too. I was trying to subtly tell you that I was into it as well, and well, I heard that you and your last dom broke it off… I wanted to tell you that I was interested in becoming your new dom.”
You blink.
“Eh?!”
“I’m interested in forming an agreement with you?” Shouto tilts his head; there’s a sense of seriousness to his face, his eyes innocent. “I need a little, and if you’re looking for a dom…”
He lets the silence fill the rest of his sentence, and your mouth gapes open as blood rushes to your face at the straightforward request.
“I… I barely know you!” you splutter, your heart in your ears as you can barely comprehend what was going on. 
Two weeks ago, Todoroki Shouto was practically a stranger. You knew him about as well as a person knew the barista at their favorite coffee shop. Friendly, but not close. Definitely not close enough for you to say that you would allow for him to see you in your little space, for him to give you a list of rewards and punishments — for possible sex?!
“Most caregiver contracts like this are done between people who know even less,” Shouto shrugs, his arms folded across his chest. “You don’t have to say yes now or even agree, but I like you a lot. I want to pursue a relationship with you, and I assumed that this would be a good starting ground especially if you need it.”
Your tongue sweeps across your lips, unable to come up with a single rationale thing to say. 
“I don’t need an answer right now; indulge me, though,” Shouto smiles softly, his gaze dropping for a moment. “Take as much time as you need. We can do a single scene to test it out, and if it doesn’t work out, no hard feelings. Let me know when you’re interested in it, though.”
You can’t say anything; you can only numbly nod as Shouto smiles at you once again.
“Let me know.”
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Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [received Today 23:44]
Todoroki S.: ↳ If you need a list, I’ll send mine over whenever you want. I have my rules, rewards, punishments, and kinks all supplied in it. [seen 7 Days Ago 23:44]
You: ↳ Send your points, we can see if we’re compatible. [seen now]
Todoroki S.: ↳ I enjoyed the scene we did today; I hope you did too. I’m interested in making this a real thing if you are too. [received Today 20:44]
You: ↳ I did, too, actually, lol. Um, thank you, first of all! We can work on the contract now. [received Today 20:48]
Todoroki S.: ↳ Okay. I’ve already made the first draft of one; if you’d like to look it over, let me know what you think, and we can edit some things around. [seen now]
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It has been two months since the contract was signed.
Two months.
Two months of Shouto practically living in your apartment with you, a once stranger seeing you at your most vulnerable. He was a steady hand on your back as you slipped into your desired little space, a constant warmth at your side as you went about your day at home. 
It had been weird at first; your anxiety still wouldn’t let up, nearly convincing you many times that this was all but a prank. That Shouto would pull away from you when you least expected it and would expose you to the world. There had been many times where he would hold you on his lap, his arms warm around your back, your favorite stuffed animal sitting on your lap as he promised you that you were wrong.
“Daddy is here to protect you, sunshine,” Shouto murmured in your ear, his warm lips pressing to the small behind your ear. “Daddy would never do that to my baby girl. That wouldn’t make me happy.”
“I-It wouldn’t?” you sniffled, your nose face nuzzling further into his neck as your sobs had finally stopped. 
“No, not at all, sunshine,” Shouto smiled against the crown of your head. You felt his lips press a soft kiss there, his warm hands stroking up and down your back. “Do you remember what makes Daddy happy?”
You blink, your wet eyelashes heavy and sticking together as you peer at his jaw as if it could possibly tell you.
“I can’t… I can’t remember, sorry, Daddy,” you sniffle again, suddenly terrified that he would be upset with you. You were such a terrible baby girl.
“What makes Daddy happy is seeing his baby girl smiling, happy, protected, and safe,” Shouto easily relays, pulling you away from his shoulder, his calloused fingers rubbing the tear streaks that still stain down your face. “I promise that I will never do anything to cause you harm, sunshine. I only want you to be happy; you being happy makes me happy like nothing before.”
There’s no stopping the way your bottom lip trembles with the pleasant weight of his words, the way it warms you from your belly and curls to your toes.
“Pinky promise?” you whimper, somehow out of breath.
Shouto looks at your curved pinky that is extended out for him to hold, to seal the other half of a promise he has no intentions of ever breaking.
Smiling softly, Shouto wraps his pinky with yours and twists it gently, locking the promise.
“Pinky promise,” he affirms, placing a kiss to your knuckles.
.
.
He was so good to you.
So sweet, gentle, patient, and kind.
He tended to spend the night Mondays through Fridays, giving you the weekend to be on your own. He only ever slept in your bed with your given consent (which was every single time), and there was just something about wearing the silver chained choker on your neck that he bought for you. Dainty and cute, nothing too crazy to draw overwhelming attention.
It had a tiny cherry blossom that was engraved with Shouto on the back.
It was a constant and calming reminder of what you had during the day.
The arrangement was going better than you had assumed it was going to be.
Shouto made for an excellent daddy, but there was one grievance you had. With two months of extreme kinship, so many nights of being curled into his side, getting near-daily cuddles for following his orders perfectly, and a few spanks because you were careless even after he warned you — you had assumed that the sexual part of the dynamic would come out. 
You had okayed for him to be able to fuck you, regardless of whether or not you were in little space! You reached your little space more often than not around him because he was so well, but now you were bordering desperation. You wanted your daddy to please you more, to give you the reward you wanted most: his cock.
“I’m home, bunny,” Shouto called out, his voice hinting exhaustion but mostly satisfaction at being home again.
Per your rules and regulations, greeting Shouto with a cheerful ‘welcome home, daddy!’ when he arrived home was a must. It was a clear indicator that not only were you home but that you wished to indulge in the dynamic for the rest of the day.
But you sat at the coffee table wearing an unapproved, not chosen outfit for home.
You were wearing an off-the-shoulder white cotton shirt that was big and soft, pink lace shorts that barely covered your ass but was hemmed with lace and pretty frill. You had thigh highs on as well that were the same pink as your shorts. There was a pacifier in your mouth, your gaze focused on the Disney coloring book in front of you as you colored in Sleeping Beauty. 
You turned your head, eyes looking at your daddy with a vague look of disinterest before turning back to your coloring.
“I said ‘I’m home,’ bunny,” Shouto restated, giving you the benefit of the doubt of whether or not you heard him. Typically you were excited to have him home, going to his side immediately and asking a million questions as to what he had been doing and why he was home so late. 
“Hmph,” was your response as you placed a sticker onto the coloring page.
Shouto’s eyebrows furrowed; he toed off his shoes and began walking towards you, assessing what was happening. 
“Is my bunny mad that I was a bit later than I had promised?” he asked, sitting on the couch behind you, his fingers brushing across your clothes as if he was trying to remember if he had selected this outfit. But the sudden touch that you were craving in a way like no other made your head spin just so, and you resisted the motion of caving.
You wanted to be a brat! Your daddy should be taking care of all your needs! He promised he would be taking care of you better than you took care of yourself! He should know when you wanted his cock!
“Hmph!” you hrmph again, and you lean out of his touch even though you craved it. 
Although you couldn’t see him, you could feel the slow, calculating blink Shouto took at this action. There’s a moment of silence before the couch sounds under his shifting weight. You freeze at the feeling of his warm palm on your spine, a whisper of danger. It feels partially like a threat, a reminder of impending consequences.
“What did daddy say about bunny using her words?” Shouto asks, his voice stern, low, commanding. 
It should scare you, but the threat in his voice makes your heart stammer and your cunt wet. So, instead of doing what’s right, you stand up, ignoring him yet again as you stick your nose up to the ceiling and try to walk away. 
Well, you try to, that is.
Before you can go too far, Shouto’s fingers are wrapped around your wrist, keeping you in place.
 “You know I don’t like it when you don’t speak, right?” Shouto asks, his eyes digging into your cheek as you refuse to look at him. Yet another rule he has in place. You had to look at him when he spoke to you or when you spoke to him. It was to help make sure that you behaved properly in public — to make you the best baby girl ever. “Use your words and look at me, princess.”
The word princess rolled off his tongue, and you bit down on your tongue to keep the breathy moan from expelling from your lips. He typically only used princess when you were on the verge of genuinely displeasing him, when he was warning you one last time before a punishment was given. Your daddy was two months without jacking off, exhausted from work, and now dealing with you, his bratty baby girl. There was no way this wasn’t going to end with him forcing you to suck him off or to use you as an onahole (something you had said was okay unless you used your safeword, of course).
You shook in his hold, teeth biting your lip as you stared at the wall, refusing to heed his command.
“I’ll give you to the count of three to look at me and address me,” Shouto says, his thumb stroking the innard of your wrist. “One.”
There was no way you would cave.
“Two.”
The silence between the two of you was heavy.
“One.”
Excitement shot through you at the thought of him finally fucking you into your mattress.
“No dessert tonight,” is what Shouto said instead, and you froze.
You whipped your head towards Shouto, fury, and humiliation painting your face as your jaw drops, the pacifier falling onto the floor.
“No!”
“No?” Shouto repeats, his eyes narrowed, unhappy with the challenge. “Do you want me to take away your video games too?”
“No!” you shriek, hands clawing at your face because this was not going the way it was going. “I want my dessert and my video games!”
“Too bad, princess,” Shouto states sternly, unaffected by your growing tantrum. “You lost them both for tonight.”
“No! Give them back! I haven’t done anything wrong, daddy!” you scream, throwing your arms in your hysterics as Shouto stands up to his full height, looming over you without a single issue. Tears prick at the back of your eyes because you’ve messed up somehow; your daddy doesn’t want you — doesn’t love you the way you love him.
“You’ve been misbehaving this entire time I’ve come back home,” Shouto retorts, his other hand grabbing your wrist and managing to place them both close to his chest, limiting your thrashing actions. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the new outfit.”
“I don’t want those punishments, daddy! I don’t want t-them,” you wheeze, your eyes locked on your hands that are bound so tightly in his hands, and you whimper loudly. “You’re hurting me, daddy!”
“And you’re trying to hurt me,” Shouto calmly points out. “I can’t have you doing that, so I’ll hold onto you until you calm down enough. I’m doing this because I care for my little brat.”
“You don’t care! You don’t c-care!” you sob finally, unable to keep the hot tears from your eyes. “Daddy doesn’t care about me!”
The effect is evident and instant.
Shouto’s grip on your wrist lessens altogether, and your pounding fists finally connect with his chest as you collapse against him.
“Daddy doesn’t c-care…”
“That’s not true,” Shouto breathes easily, his fingers brushing against your sides before his arms wrap around you. “I care so much for you, baby. What’s wrong? Tell me what I can do to make things better.”
A loud sniffle emits from you, and you fist your hands in his shirt, your head shaking. 
“It’s been two months, and daddy won’t let me have his cummies,” you whisper, terrified that he would reject you. “Am I not good enough? Attractive enough that daddy wants to reward me with his dick?”
There’s a shift in the air.
“My little doll wants her daddy’s cock, is that what?” Shouto murmured against the top of your head. “My precious, innocent baby girl wants something filthy like that.”
“Mmn,” was all you could manage, your face burning at the implications, the suggestion in his voice. 
“And instead of using her words, as we practice, she decided to act like a little brat to get her way,” Shouto’s voice is low, raspy, and deep. Its tenor is just right that it makes the room instantly hotter, your body brimming with excited energy. “I think… my beautiful doll has broken too many rules for me to just give her a good reward. She deserves to be my little doll as punishment for now. I thought she was grown enough to ask for things she wanted.”
You gasp as Shouto’s warm, calloused hands drop down to the minimally exposed flesh between your booty shorts and your thigh highs. It sends an entire wave of goosebumps down your skin, and you shudder as they rise upwards, slipping under your shirt and resting on the soft skin of your stomach. 
“Your punishment will be what daddy wants it to be, doll,” Shouto states, his fingernails brushing over your clothed nipples, and you mewl at the touch. “You’ve given up your right to speak right now, and because daddy can’t trust you to not be a brat, you will suck daddy’s dick until I see it fit. You will stand on your knees like the beautiful doll daddy knows you can be. Silent, obedient, and so beautiful.”
The words are a goldmine you’ve wanted to hear this entire time, but you’re upset — rightfully upset — that it took your daddy so long to figure it out! He needed you to spell it out for him to act on it!
“I don’t like sucking dicks!” you complain, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “That’s yucky!”
Shouto raised an eyebrow at that, his eyes flashing dangerously as he absorbed the implications of your actions. He knew he was going to earn this just as much as you were.
“Excuse me?” Shouto says calmly, a single eyebrow arched. “Do you want to repeat that?”
“You heard m-me,” you stammer, trying to remain steady under his steady stare. “If daddy couldn’t catch that, maybe I should be the one giving out the punishments.”
A hot, predatory smirk pulls across his face as his grip on your wrist tightens, and he yanks you just slightly closer towards him.
“Oh really?” he chuckles so coldly you shiver. “So you think you’re in charge here?”
You nod slowly, your pupils wide and blown. Your eyes were transfixed on his mouth, his pretty plump lips practically calling your name. 
His tongue swipes across his front teeth, and you watch him in awe, horror, and damning horny anticipation as he sits back on the couch and takes you down with him. You struggle for a bit, terrified as you feel unbalanced, ready to tumble to the floor. But your stomach is pressed heavily against his knees, pleasurable discomfort spreading through your body as you recognize this easy, beautiful spanking position. 
“I’m going to give you ten spanks,” Shouto announces, his hand rubbing smooth circles over your soft shorts. “You will count every one of them and thank me for each one. If you mess up, if you misbehave, you will get more until you do as I demand.”
You struggle against his hold, thrashing and twisting as his fingers push the shorts higher up your ass, exposing your flesh to him. But as he did so, you remember that you’re not wearing panties, and Shouto sees that too.
“Mm, you’re not wearing panties,” Shouto says, his voice trying to keep the undying want and lust from bleeding through his tone. “My precious doll is that desperate she couldn’t fully dress herself?”
“I can d-dress— aahhh!!!!”
Your interjection was interrupted by the sharp, well-practiced spank that Shouto delivered to your round ass. You arched against his lap, your skin tingling and feeling pathetically good. 
“I said you were my doll right now, and dolls don’t speak unless given permission to,” Shouto clipped, his hand circling your now tender flesh. “You didn’t count, so let's try again.”
SLAP.
“Oh my god!” you shriek at the contact, your head spinning at the craved touch. It wasn’t like his typical spanks, the ones that came down not to hurt but to remind you, to correct you to be better. These stung with power, reminding you that you were getting what you craved, and you felt your toes curl and your cunt beginning to seep with the knowledge.
Fuck, you wanted this.
THWACK.
“Again.”
THWACK.
“Daddy can spank your pretty little ass all day, doll. Do as you’re told if you want daddy’s cock.”
SPANK.
“O-One, thank you, daddy!”
WHACK!
You threw your head back at the sensation, your eyes crossing and your hips bucking backward as you shriek with pleasure. You don’t count, your head swimming with unfound energy, and Shouto tsks.
“You’re so terrible at following directions, aren’t you?” Shouto asks, his mouth hovering by your ear, and you nearly melt when his teeth tug at your cartilage at the same time he serves another heated spank to your perky ass. “Such a dirty brat, getting off on her punishments. But let me tell you, if you don’t start following what I instruct of you, I’ll fuck your mouth and leave you without any cummies.”
You gasp loudly, sobbing as he delivers yet another solid spank for your undoubtedly bruising ass. And so, with a pathetic, desperate nod, you agree.
You count to ten, thanking him each time with a beautiful sob that makes the bulge in his pants obvious to you. Your lips are swollen, bruised, and sheen with saliva from holding back your louder sobs. Your ass seems to be imprinted with the shape of his hand against your skin, and you tumble off his lap at the final thank you.
There’s slick gathered on your shorts, soaking through the pretty pink fabric turning it dark. 
“I forget that my beautiful baby girl is a masochist,” Shouto sighs as he stands up in front of you. You gasp on the floor, your head swimming with the building heat between your legs, and you hear an all too familiar, always exciting, sound of a belt being undone followed quickly by a zipper and rustling fabric.
“God, you’re so wonderful, doll,” Shouto sighs as he pulls out his hardening cock to where you’re already on your knees with wide, curious, hopeful eyes. “Already on your knees, ready to choke on daddy’s cock even though this is a punishment.”
You can barely register his words, your eyes focused and fascinated — scared almost — of the cock Shouto has. It’s fucking huge, and it’s thick, slightly curved upward with a pretty flushed tip and bulging veins. You were sure if you could even manage to take more than a few inches in!
“I think I remember something about how you don’t like deep throating,” Shouto hums contemplatively. You freeze, your heart stopping for just a moment at what he’s implying. “Well, it’s a good thing this is a punishment.”
His fingers press into your mouth, making you choke, and with your lips spread wide, mouth open for taking, Shouto guides his cock into your parted lips with a dangerous moan. 
There's an immediate ache in your jaw, the size, and girth of his cock overwhelming you without so much doubt. You gag immediately at the weight of it pressing on your tongue, filling your mouth. Heat hammers in your cunt, and you heave against him.
Shouto sighs as if he was in heaven, his hands grabbing the back of your head and slamming your head as far down his cock. So far that your nose brushed against the skin of his stomach, before pressing against it completely. 
Shouto moans louder than your panicked gags and chokes, his hips swirling and twisting as he looks down at you with lovesick eyes. “You’re so good at this,” Shouto praises, his fingers wiping away the tears that prick at your eyes. “So good.  Daddy’s so pleased with you, taking my cock so well. So beautiful even when you cry on my dick.”
Your throat spasms around his cock, your lungs burning severely from the lack of oxygen. Not a single part of your body able to relax as you desperately sought to breathe. It hurt, but it felt so good. Saliva began to pool from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chin and drooling on your clothed breasts.
Shouto took notice and hummed contently.
“Daddy’s going to count to the number ten,” he informed you, rolling his hips further into your mouth, shoving his cock even further down your throat than you thought possible. “If you can keep your pretty nose pressed to daddy’s stomach the entire time, daddy promises you he will give you the best orgasm you’ve ever received.”
You made a squeaking noise around his cock, your fingers that were buried into his shirt gripping tighter as he suddenly lets go of your head.
“One.”
Resisting the urge to pull off him completely was a near-losing battle.
“Two.”
Your body shook with intensity, the scorching need to properly breathe slamming down on you.
“Three… four…”
Shouto’s hands began to pet your head, soothing the worried lines on your face, brushing away your tears.
“Five… six… fuck, you’re so gorgeous, baby girl.”
You whimper around his cock, and Shouto moans liquid gold in return. He smiles deviously, fingers brushing down your throat.
“Seven… eight…” you choke loudly when his fingers press against your throat, tightening your already spasming throat around his cock, furthering the burning sensation all throughout your body. “Nine…”
You look at him with pleading eyes, wordlessly begging for mercy, for something as he pauses for more than a second between nine and ten. His hips lazily jerk into your mouth, his free hand combing his hair back, messily styling it as he smirks. Your saliva was dripping uncontrollably now, pooling at the back of your throat, on your tongue, past your lips. Shouto sighs, his eyes bright with power, with the knowledge that you were so obedient.
“Ten.”
Immediately, you collapse from his cock. Saliva and pre-cum connecting your coughing mouth to his hard dick still. Your lungs ache, and your breathing is frantic as you try to regain a sense of composure. Your tears meaning nothing so long as the inferno between your thighs is tamed. 
“You did so well, baby girl,” Shouto praises, and despite the pain in your lungs, you puff up at the praise. “You did exactly what daddy asked for you, so daddy believes you deserve a reward. Do you agree?”
Unable to speak, your belly tight and warm, and your throat aching slightly, you nod eagerly.
“Use your words, angel,” Shouto coos; he steps out of his pants before squatting before you, his fingers grazing your chin. “Daddy loves it when he hears you speaking.”
“I would love a r-reward, daddy,” you whimper softly. 
Your eyes swim with want, with inexplicable needs and desires. Shouto softens when he notices you nosing into his palms; he brushes a strand of hair out of your face.
“Look at how politely you asked that,” Shouto praises, kissing you softly on the corner of your mouth. “Daddy’s so proud of you, sweetheart.”
You keen some more, your wet eyelashes batting in your excitement and undying love for him.
“Now, daddy wants you to go to your room and take off all the clothes you want. Once you’re ready, I want you to call me in, and then daddy will take excellent care of you, okay?” Shouto commands you, his lips pressing softly onto your cheeks, eyelids, and finally softly onto your lips.
You gasp loudly at the touch, your eyes wide but looking incredibly drunk at the touch.
“Okay!” you giggle, pressing forward and taking his lips into another kiss.
He hums before assisting you to your feet, and you breathlessly laugh as you turn around and skip away towards your room. 
Your room is neat, as is required of Shouto. Your bed is neatly organized; there’s nothing on the floor or on your chair. Everything is put away correctly and cleanly. Grinning, you take off your shirt followed by your bra, shimming off your shorts, you toss away your clothes into your hamper, leaving only your socks on.
Hopping onto your bed, you grab a stuffed animal before turning to face the door and sing.
“Daddy, I’m ready!!!”
You squeal after saying that, excitedly staring at the closed door, eagerly anticipating the way Shouto would walk in. Your eyelashes flutter when you see the doorknob twist and in comes Shouto, who, unlike you, is completely naked.
Now you knew he was fit, even with your mind beginning to sink into your little space, you knew that Shouto was a handsome, fine man. He was built, muscular, and toned. He was tall, his head nearly hitting the top of the door if it wasn’t for the fact he was leaning against the doorframe. There is a slight smile on his face that screams of his pride, his joy of seeing you like this. And his eyes rake like hot coals against your body.
You shudder.
“Aren’t you cute,” Shouto murmurs, pride evident in his tone. He walks towards you, tongue slipping between his lips as he reaches the foot of the bed. “Such a beautiful princess, but now… what does princess need?”
“I need my daddy to take care of me,” you whisper, eyes hooded and mouth turning dry as he begins leaning onto the bed. “I want my daddy.”
“Such a dirty girl,” Shouto says with a chuckle as you begin to lean back onto your bed, your legs spreading for him. “Such a dirty, gorgeous girl.”
Your breathing stutters as the bed moves under his weight, and you’re practically panting as you watch his body slowly crawl over yours. Shouto looks down at you, his eyes deceivingly bright even with the shadows, and your eyes flutter as he leans down. 
You’re expecting a kiss, craving the feeling of his smooth, plump lips on yours. But you gasp in shock, betrayal, and in lust when his lips press against your earlobe. He trails his kisses everywhere, kissing every inch, every centimeter of your face, but never once your lips.
“Daddy, stop teasing!!” you whine loudly, feet kicking on the mattress and hands burying into his hair.
“I’m not teasing you,” Shouto objects, but the grin on his face says otherwise. “Why do you think I’m teasing you? What do you want?” 
“I want daddy’s kisses! Give me your kisses!” you cry with a pout.
With a burst of cheerful laughter that warms your heart and makes your belly flip, Shouto presses downward, capturing your lips with his. The contact is blissful, everything and more that you need. You eagerly kiss him back, making noises that are both sinful and so blessedly innocent as your arms wrap around his neck.
Shouto kisses you back with matching intensity, one elbow resting by your head, the other resting on your hip as he allows your tongue to press into his mouth. He lets you greedily take what you want, his thumb on your hip drawing nonsensical pictures. But as you shudder against him, completely overwhelmed by this all. Shouto probes his tongue into your mouth, gliding his wet, hot muscle against the roof of your mouth and the back of your teeth until your panting, unable to do anything but absorb him.
“So pretty, so cute when you’re like this. A beautiful doll for her daddy,” Shouto whispers into your mouth, and you can only moan in response. 
“I need daddy,” you speak, your glazed eyes unable to even look at Shouto. “I need daddy so bad.”
“Where does my princess need me?” Shouto speaks, his lips trailing down your slick chin and neck. “Right here?” he asks, sinking his teeth onto your neck and sucking softly.
“A-Aahhh~,” you shudder, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues to place hickey after hickey on your neck, your collarbones, and the spot right behind your ear that makes you melt. “Yes, I need you everywhere… I need daddy’s mouth and cummies in me.”
“Your boobs are so cute, baby girl,” Shouto whispers, and you nearly jump out of your skin when you notice that he’s nosing against your breasts. “So pretty, better than anything I could have hoped for.”
You whine loudly, your body arching off the bed as his hot tongue dips out and licks a pebbled nipple. You pant as he licks again, your fingers burying into his hair.
“Such beautiful nipples, you make your daddy so happy,” Shouto praises, and you gasp loudly as his mouth envelopes your nipple. Your cunt throbs with intriguing want, your socked feet traveling up the line of his leg as his teeth graze and move your nipple in his mouth. “You make me the proudest daddy ever.”
His fingers card down your stomach, trailing and lingering around your cunt, and yet never once touching it. It’s tactical, teasing, and mind spinning. Your clit spasms with needed attention, angry with the teasing, desperate for contact — for attention. You make a noise, something not quite human, unable to pull yourself from your growing fuzzy head as Shouto moves from one nipple to the next.
Shouto chuckles, his eyes of blue and grey flashing up at you dangerously, knowingly.
“Don’t tease me, daddy,” you whisper, hips circling, thrusting into the air where you wish his fingers were.
“Okay,” he promises, and as if he could read your thoughts, his teeth gently bit down on your untouched yet demanding nipple. Your head slams against the mattress, your chest once again feeling alive as if you had been electrocuted. He sucks your nipple, teeth tugging on the sensitive flesh, warm tongue, and spit sinking into your nerves. His fingers taking care of your lonesome nipple, keeping it company with gentle, purposeful rolls as he has you sobbing his name. And when you thought the teasing couldn’t get worse, his fingers finally land where you want it most.
On your clit.
“You’re perfect, angel; I love you so much.”
It happens then, like a warm blanket being placed over you — comforting, warm, making the pain in your body hum with only pleasure, and your body trembles with peaking need.
“I wanna… I wanna do more,” you coo, eyes heavy and feigning intoxication as you look up at your daddy. “I wanna please my daddy!”
Your daddy blinks at you, head tilting before a knowing look flashes across his eyes, and he smiles softly, fingers abandoning their spots to press gently against your cheeks. You don’t even mind, so excited and happy that he’s holding you.
“What do you want, sunshine?”
“Can I please suck daddy’s nipples?” you ask with a hopeful face, “He made me feel so good, and I — I wanna make my daddy feel good too!”
“You wanna suck daddy’s nipples? Okay.”
You giggle loudly as the world spins, and you gasp when you’re suddenly sitting straight up, your wet cunt pressing against his hip bone. You laugh lightly, a bell-like giggle, and your hands press to his chest. “That was so fun!”
“Was it—?”
Your daddy can’t finish his sentence because you caught sight of his dusty brown nipples and launched forward, capturing the soft tissue in your mouth. 
It tastes like your daddy, the salt and unique taste he has. And your tongue lashes at it, your cheeks hollowing as you suck at it some more. It hardens in your mouth, a sensation that has you breaking away from him with a beautiful gasp.
“Am I doing a good job?!” you ask, looking at the pretty pink flush on your daddy’s face as he heaves slightly, flustered and a bit out of breath. “My nipples do that when you do a job, daddy!”
“You’re doing so well,” your daddy informs you, and you laugh excitedly. “Do you want… do you want daddy’s cock now?” 
“Daddy’s cock?” you question, heat rushing to your face at the naughty word. “W-What does that mean?”
“Daddy’s cock is how I can make you feel good,” daddy explains, his fingers trailing up and down your thighs, playing with the hem of your socks. 
You giggle as he snaps at it playfully.
“You’ve been doing such a good job, sunshine, and daddy’s cock hurts and wants to be in you.”
“In me?”
“Mmhm, and when it’s in you, you can get daddy’s cummies,” daddy smiles softly. “You want daddy’s cummies, remember?”
You think about it, unsure if you had wanted it, but then you remember that you had said it.
“Will daddy’s cummies help me? My stomach feels funny, a-and I feel wet.”
Daddy nods fast, his body shifting so that he’s in a sitting position and your wet chest presses against him. It’s a sensation you’re unfamiliar with, and you make an embarrassing squeaking noise at the feeling.
“I promise it’ll make you feel better, sunshine.”
You think about it some more, your arms wrapping around his neck as you think. But soon enough, you find yourself giggling and nodding, “I trust my daddy!”
“I’m so glad you do. Daddy’s so glad his baby girl trusts him.”
And the next thing you know, you’re back on your back, and your daddy looms over you, spreading your legs wide apart. You look down at gasp at the sight of daddy’s cock.
“It’s so big!” you shriek, “Where is that going, daddy?!”
“This is going right… there,” daddy emphasizes, pressing two fingers into a part of your body that has you speechless. It’s an intrusion you’re almost unfamiliar with, and yet it makes your head spin and your body hot with need and action from him. “I promise it’ll feel so good; I’ll make you feel so good.”
“O-Okay,” you whimper, watching your daddy pull something against the length of his cock before pressing the swollen head to the entrance that made you feel funny in a good way. “I’m ready, daddy.”
“I’m so glad,” your daddy smiles, and with a gentle kiss to your temple, he presses his cock into you.
“DADDY!” you shriek as his cock pressed into you, filling you out and stretching you out completely. The sensation is overwhelming, piercing pleasure slamming through your body as your arms and legs wrap around him in a vice-like grip. 
Daddy’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in close as his hips begin rutting in and out of you. The sensation, the rhythm, is constant and is intoxicating. The creak of the mattress and the loud, grateful cries of your mouth into the crook of his neck fills the room. And then he shifts you just a bit, his hips able to thrust further, more profound, into you, and a wanton, nearly voluptuous noise escapes your mouth. 
“Kiss me, daddy!” you cry, head thrusting back into the mattress, pleasure saturating so deep in your brain you can’t think anymore. “Kiss me, please! Kiss me, kiss me, kissmekissmekiss—”
His mouth is over yours, hot pants and wrecked breathing is passed between open parted lips. Your tongue pushes against his teeth, unable to find his tongue as your hips swirl and thrust up into his thrust cock. Every thrust sends daddy’s cock deeper into your pulling, demanding cunt, stretching you out, sending you further out in an unimaginable way. Your walls spasm uncontrollably, clenching and tightening without a single input. 
But soon, daddy’s shifting up onto his knees, and you can only wildly cry out for him when his arms shift from keeping you close to pressing behind your knees and shoving your knees into the mattress by your shoulders. The most primal, deranged moan rips from your mouth as the stretch sends his cock to a place in your cunt you never could imagine existing. You shake like a child against him, fingers scraping at his back, tearing his skin as your heels dig into his back. The head of his cock buries and brushes against your cervix, making you cry and see colors you’ve never seen before in your life. Your praises for your daddy are endless, and his powerful pounding sends the headboard of your bed crashing against the wall harder and harder.
“How are you feeling, bunny?” Daddy grunts, his face contorted with pleasure and the need to look at you. “Do you feel my cock in you? Can you feel daddy’s cock hitting your cervix?”
“D-Daddy, I-I — ohhh my god!” you sob, your hips pathetically rutting up and down against his cock, stupidly furthering how deep his cock can go, your cervix melting with pleasure, making you oh so dizzy. You can only blabber. “Daddy’s cock is so big, it’s so good! It’s making my stomach feel so funny! I’m so scared!”
“Don’t be scared,” your daddy pleads against your neck, though his speed and strength doesn’t lessen. “Your stomach feeling funny is a good thing; it’s supposed to happen! I promise you, this is how it's supposed to happen. Okay?”
“Okay, daddy, okay, okay, okay,” your voice lessened to a senseless babble. Your sentences blurring together, and your cheek pressed into the mattress, and drool pooled from your lips. 
His pace is completely irreplicable now; every maddening powerful thrust of his hips sends the headboard into the wall. The wet slapping echoing throughout the room when he pierces into you almost drowned out both of your senseless cries. 
It almost scared you, the sensation foreign, but his gentle reminder that this was normal, that you would be okay, kept you from spiraling. Slick erupts in your cunt, an overwhelming heat that throbs right in your core, coating your thighs and your stomach, and with every slam of his hips, it grows only more. 
Intensifying. 
Exhilarating. 
The temperature of your body sizzles off you in immense heat. His lips press against yours, a maddening escape of lust and need exchanging between your parted lips. Your saliva is everywhere, covering both of your faces — connecting them even when you part. But that didn’t stop him; it only fueled him to kiss you entirely, wordlessly praising you, engulfing you with his mouth, daring you with his tongue.
You were barely keeping up with his snapping hips, your mouth begging for more when he suckled on your tongue.
“It’s feeling so funny!” you suddenly cry as your daddy’s fingers pinch and rub against something between your legs that sends electric waves throughout every nerve in your body. “I feel like Imma pee, daddy! I can’t stop it! I can’t stop!”
“It’s okay, let it happen,” your daddy grunts into your ear, and with that, the calming steady of his voice, you let the heat, the tightness in your stomach you feel like is piss, slam through you. 
A tingling, white noise power sensation slams through your entire body. You arch into your daddy, your scream dying on your tongue as your body thumps with a full-body heartbeat. It sends your toes curling, your fingernails scarring his back, and a pathetic, pleasure-derived sob released into your daddy’s sweaty neck. 
His thrusting keeps up for a bit, letting your clenching and relaxing cunt finish him until his thrusts border sloppy, and with a final thrust that has your fingers trembling, he stops, collapsing onto you.
You don’t know what happens next, only that for one moment too long, it’s silent with only heaving breathing and incredibly warm body heat. Your eyes close, and you’re out before you even know it.
.
.
.
You open your eyes to a dark room.
Shouto is next to you, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he holds a wet, warm cloth to your body, gently cleaning you up.
“Holy shit,” you murmur, your voice scratchy and nearly blown. “Did I drop and pass out after cumming?”
Shouto jumped at your voice, looking up at your face with a tired but satisfied grin, “You did.”
You laugh softly, not quite humorlessly, not entirely because you were amused. You sit up, groaning at how your lower body screams in pain; well, it seemed that your drop really did hide any pain.
“That was fun,” you grin, eyes closing as Shouto presses the cloth to your neck, cleaning the sweat and saliva there. “Glad I decided to speak up on that — ow!”
You pouted as Shouto retreated his pinching fingers from your ribcage.
“You didn’t speak up; you acted out and then spoke up,” Shouto chuckled, sighing as he leaned backward, allowing for you to stretch your tired limbs.
“I still managed to say my truth,” you grin, taking the wet cloth from his hands and focusing on his body. Shouto sat there, still and silent, as you gingerly cleaned… everything off him.
“Well, if we’re saying our truths, can I ask something?” Shouto murmurs, so unlike his typical confident demur. You pause for a moment before nodding, continuing to clean the broken skin on his body. “Would you like to be my girlfriend? I-I know this is cheesy and all, but I feel like I want you outside of our arrangement, outside of the dynamic.”
You can’t help but laugh, making Shouto look panicked, even if for a bit.
“I thought I was the only one.”
.
.
.
“Sero, psst, Sero!” Mina whispers loudly, hitting her friend in the back of the head with an eraser.
“Shit, what?” Sero hisses, a slight annoyance in his face from being hit.
“Look!”
Sero follows Mina’s pointed finger over where you and Shouto sat, in the middle of your own world despite it being smack in the middle of the lecture. He scanned your bodies more intensely and froze at the sight of purple and red bruises on both your necks.
“Is that—?!”
“YES!!!”
“HOLY SHIT! WE CALLED IT!”
“Sero!” boomed the voice of Aizawa, their scariest professor ever. “Is there something you would like to share with the class?”
Sero freezes, an awkward smile blooming on his face as he shrugs, “I’m just noticing some hickies today, that’s all!”
There could have been no casualties in this admittance; after all, Aizawa didn’t give two shits about hickies on university students. But the loud, panicked “shit!” coming from you was undoubtedly damning. 
Shouto snickered, his fingers tugging at the collar of your shirt as his fingers brushed against the collection of bruises, “I think they look nice.”
869 notes · View notes
lokithealligator · 3 months ago
Text
H.C.M.C. || Chapter One
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Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Reader is new to Brooklyn and after an incident at the garage belonging to Howling Commandos Motorcycle Club, her life is changed forever.
Warnings: Violence, gunshots, mention of blood
Word count: 3,006
Authors Note: Thanks to @borikenlove for pushing me to do this and helping me with this new fic! Send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!
Reblog & give some feedback!
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Brooklyn was the last place you cared to be.
You had been offered the job of a lifetime that was located in Manhattan, right near the Empire State Building. But unfortunately, you couldn’t afford a place close by. Your aunt, an ever so lovely woman, had a loft in Brooklyn that she agreed to let you live in until you found a more permanent spot. She traveled for work and had a couple places around the country so it wasn’t an inconvenience. You moved across the country for this job and you couldn’t exactly complain when you had a bed to sleep in. Just save your pennies, you’d tell yourself.
Six months passed by and things started to fall into place. You took on the job flawlessly, being an associate at a magazine. You worked more on the technical parts, putting everything on the site and making sure things were running smoothly. Your coworkers were fun and the work environment was perfect. You couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity.
Then you met the Howling Commandos.
The body shop down the road from your home was always full of bikers. You found out from one of your neighbors that it was a motorcycle club and a body shop rolled into one. She had nothing against them though, even suggesting it when you told her your car had been acting funny lately. You weren’t a mechanic by any means and your best friend who did know cars was all the way back in Nevada.
Sucking it up, you got the number and called the shop, explaining to the woman on the phone what issues seemed to be wrong with it. It was still drivable, but you didn’t want to take any chances. They had an opening the next day, which worked out perfectly because you were off.
By ten am, you were heading out. The sooner you could get the repairs done, the sooner you could do your errands on the one day off a week you got. You pulled up slowly, eyeing the line of motorcycles as you passed before parking outside of the garage. A man with a rag in his hands walked up when you slid the window down.
“Hey, can I help you?” The blonde guy asked with a soft smile, tilting his head. The patch on his work shirt read Steve.
“Hi, I called yesterday about getting this old thing looked at. The woman on the phone said I’d be able to get in today,” you explained. “I’m not great with cars so I have no clue but there’s a rattling in the back every few minutes and I know for sure it could use an oil change.”
Steve looked the car over before nodding. “We can take a look. Wanna leave the keys in and step out? I’ll get one of the guys to take a look,” he spoke, taking a step back.
You hesitated but nodded, grabbing your bag and stepping out after shutting the car off.
“Go ahead and take a seat over at the table, I’ll come back when Sam gives the diagnosis,” he smiled sweetly. He seemed to be the nicest one around, or at least he came off that way. A couple other guys in the garage looked like they were over the day already.
You nodded and walked over to the picnic table, setting your bag beside you after taking out your phone. You could only hope it didn’t take long at all. You sat there for about ten minutes, sliding through post after post. Some days social media wasn’t what you needed, especially since you worked online every day.
A pair of footsteps approached and a man with his hair pulled back into a bun approached, taking a seat on the other side of the table. You glanced at the patch on his grease covered button up: James.
“Looks like a new muffler and that oil change, but everything else looks pretty good. Racked up some miles on it too, huh?” James said, giving you a slight smile. So Steve must have been busy.
“Oh, yeah. Had that thing since I was in high school and drove it from Nevada to here for the move,” you spoke, shrugging.
“What brings you to Brooklyn?” James asked with curiosity. You weren’t ready to give this stranger your life story, but it was better than being annoyed by Facebook.
“For work. Got a good job in Manhattan and found a place here. It’s definitely a change though. Way more snow here than Vegas, that’s for sure. And people are a bit more...rushed,” you admitted, but it was New York. Even if you didn’t live in NYC, it seemed the state as a whole hardly slept. Nor did the man in the alley outside of your loft at three am who loves to scream at his roommate.
“Yeah, we have a tendency to be. I’m Bucky, by the way. I’d shake your hand but..all grime,” he chuckled, flipping his hands up.
You smiled, shaking your head. “Oh that’s fine. I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you. And thanks for helping out with the ol’ girl. I’m hoping to upgrade this yea-“ you started to say before the sound of a gunshot rattled through the compound.
“Get down!” A voice yelled out from the garage and you hesitated. Bucky was quick to act though. He got up and grabbed your arm, pulling you around the back of the garage and away from the front.
“Stay low,” he said as he got you behind the building. Your hands were shaking and eyes wide, staring up at him as more bullets started to blast through.
You couldn’t help the scream that left your lips as you curled up, covering your ears. Bucky peeked around the side, almost catching a bullet to the face of he hadn't seen the man seconds before aiming for him. It hit the wooden fencing behind him instead.
“Fuck!” You yelled as pain surged into your shoulder. Somehow a bullet managed to slip through the wall and dug itself into your skin. Bucky looked over and rushed to your side, moving so your back was against his chest and he was blocking you from further shots.
More gunfire rang out, but the sound seemed closer, as if it was shots from inside the garage. Squealing tires sounded off, rushing down the road away from the compound. You shook in Bucky’s hold, tears falling as pain flooded your body.
“Everyone good?” A voice sounding like Steve, called out.
“Back here!” Bucky called out as he tried to put pressure on the wound to stop it from bleeding. “Shh, we’ll fix this,” he whispered.
Steve came around the corner, a deep frown on his lips. “Shit.”
“I...I gotta go to the hospital..” you whispered through whimpers of pain.
“We have a doctor. C’mon,” Bucky said, standing up before helping you up.
Being shot was the last thing you ever expected from today.
Following them inside the other building near the garage, it seemed it was one of the other targets. A couple other men had gotten hit, but thankfully no one was killed.
“Who’s she?” A man asked, glancing over from his spot on a stool, cleaning his arm. He had been grazed by a bullet but nothing major.
“Y/N, brought her car in for some work. Caught a slug in her shoulder,” Bucky said as he sat you down on one of the couches.
“Who were those people? Why would they want to shoot a garage?” You asked, wiping at your eyes. Clearly you had no idea what happened in the motorcycle community.
The room was silent for a moment as the men looked to Bucky.
“Rival club. Hydra guys who have it out for us because we stole their business,” Bucky said in simple terms. He wasn’t about to disclose the nature of the business.
“Jesus…” you mumbled, wincing as more pain ran down your arm.
“Doc’s been called, he’ll be here in ten,” the one on the stool spoke after setting his phone down.
“We’ll get you fixed up,” Bucky spoke gently.
You were completely confused. How could a rival garage have it in for these guys? But a club...what did that mean? You glanced around, noticing little things. A bar filled with alcohol, or what used to be there. The liquor was currently seeping down the shelves. Frames on the wall held old photos, men on bikes, a few leather vests were pinned beside them.
A motorcycle club.
One that seemed to deal in more than just fixing cars. You kept the realization to yourself, cradling your arm to your chest as you tried not to focus on the pain. What were you supposed to do now? Call the police about a shooting? These men didn’t look like the type who would like police.
You listened as the men talked, trying to keep it hushed but failing. Mentions of Hydra, retaliation, anger that they would do this to their clubhouse. They kept calling Bucky *Pres*, like it was a higher up status. Then it hit you, your car. It was most likely riddled with bullet holes now and who knew what else. An oil change and a new muffler were now the least of your worries.
“What the hell happened?” A guy said as he walked in, a bag slung around his shoulder.
“Hydra. We gotta start with her,” Bucky spoke, motioning over to you. It was clear you were the only one who wasn’t used to being around gunshots. “You can set up in Church,” he said, walking over and pushing two doors open. It certainly didn’t look like a church with a large table in the middle and chairs surrounding it.
“C’mon. I’m Banner,” the man said as he looked over to you. Slowly you stood up, legs shaking when you walked into the room. You took a seat on one of the chairs while the doctor set up various things. Scalpels, gauze, antiseptic solution, etc.
Bucky leaned against the table after shutting the doors, looking you over. “I’m sorry you got caught in that,” he said with a sincere voice.
You hardly had a voice now, shock still in your body. “I don’t...I don’t get it,” you hesitated. “Why would a garage be shooting you guys?”
Bucky chewed on his lip for a moment, trying to decide something. “We’re not just a garage. We’re a motorcycle club. Howling Commandos. Been a club since the 60’s when my grandpa started it. Hydra is pissed that we stole their business.”
“Yeah, but they seriously can’t be mad about you guys stealing car business. What’s really going on?” You asked.
Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You ask a lot of questions,” he said, sharing a glance with Banner before looking back at you.
“I uh, need you to remove your shirt and lay down on the table so I can get the bullet out,” Banner said, rubbing the back of his neck. It seemed he was used to working on the guys here and not women.
You watched them for a minute before standing. Turning your back to them, you used your good arm to maneuver the shirt off, holding it against your chest when you turned back. Bucky kept his eyes on your face, never leaving. So he was a gentleman, apparently. Banner helped you up onto the table, laying on your stomach. Bucky stepped out for a moment, coming back with a folded up hoodie so you could rest your head on it.
“This is gonna hurt, I’m sorry,” Banner said as he started to clean around the wound. You winced, gritting your teeth to try and keep quiet.
“Got any liquid courage left out there?” You asked, glancing over at Bucky.
Nodding, he stepped out once more and came back with an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels. This you could work with. Opening the bottle, Bucky handed it to you. You took a couple of large swigs before handing it back to him.
“Keep it close, please,” you asked. Bucky pulled up a chair and sat near your head, the bottle in front of him on the table.
Banner started to dig for the bullet, your eyes squeezing shut at the pain.
“Breathe, Y/N,” Bucky spoke softly. He wasn’t showing it, but he was terrified of you going to the cops. Having an outsider shot there wouldn't be good for them and they were already dealing with enough when it came to the authorities. Always on the clubs back for something.
You were quiet for a while, soft whimpers falling from your lips as Banner dug out the slug, dropping it into a little bowl. You needed another drink to get through the next part. It seemed that some of the siding was pushed inside with the bullet and Banner wanted to make sure it was all out before he patched you up.
“Y/N...you can’t go to the cops about this,” Bucky finally spoke, his arms loosely crossed.
You saw the worry flash in his eyes. Sighing, you looked away from him and grimaced as another wave of pain hit you. “I won’t,” you muttered.
“I’m serious. They can’t be on this. I’m sure someone will have called about the gunshots already, I don’t want them to know a civilian got hit too,” Bucky sighed, leaning forward to be face to face with you.
You turned back to look at him, thinking for a moment. “As long as my car is fixed for free,” you said.
Bucky raised an eyebrow before chuckling. “That’s fair.” Standing up, Bucky walked over to the other side of the room. It looked like he was writing something down from your angle. “This is my number. You need anything, call me. And that doesn’t just go for the car. People start hassling you, you need our help, any car trouble, anything,” he spoke, setting the number in the palm of your hand. “We’ll take care of you. We owe you.”
You nodded softly, hoping he was being honest. You deserved honesty right now. Banner cleaned the wound off before stitching it closed. At this point, you sort of started to feel numb to the pain. He did tape gauze down over it before helping you to sit up.
A knock on the door came and Bucky got up, opening the door slightly. He nodded and took something before closing the door again. “Might want a clean shirt so...here,” he spoke, handing you a plain black tee that was a bit bigger than your usual size. You thanked him quietly and slowly slid it on, taking a deep breath.
“I guess I’ll head out,” you groaned as you slid off the table while Banner cleaned up.
“I’ll drive you. C’mon,” Bucky offered, opening the door for you.
Was it really a good idea for this guy to know where you lived, especially since it was so close? You bit your lip and hesitated, looking over at him. He tilted his head. “I promise no funny games,” he said.
You sighed, not wanting to walk the streets right now anyways. The pain was hurting more that you were standing, plus it could be good if he knew where you lived. He did say anything after all. Nodding, you stepped out and followed him outside. Collecting your bag from the picnic table, you sighed in relief to see your things hasn’t been hit. But then you saw the back end of your car. The windshields were busted, holes littering the back.
“Jesus Christ,” you groaned. Bucky looked over to you and followed you gaze.
“Don’t worry,” Bucky tried to reassure you as he led you to one of the bikes. You narrowed your eyes, wondering if it was a good idea. He picked up his helmet and turned, sliding it on your head and clasping it closed.
“Just try to avoid the bumps, okay?” You asked as he slid on.
“I promise. Now where we going?” He started the bike, the roar making you realize it was these bikes you always heard going down the street.
“You know that building at the end of the street here at the corner of Albany?” You shuffled your bag onto your good shoulder as he nodded.
“Wow, that’s close,” he said, patting the spot behind him.
You slid on, never having been on a bike before. His arms reached back to take your hands, making you wrap your own arms around him as your feet found the little foot pegs. If you weren’t in pain and still scared after the shootout, you might actually enjoy this.
Bucky was slow to pull out, making good on his promise to avoid any bumps, though sometimes it was inevitable. It was just a few minutes drive with the traffic. You pointed to an open spot on the side of the road, the spot your car usually sat. Bucky pulled up and shut the engine off, letting you slide off before he did.
“Thank you…” you spoke, allowing him to slide the helmet off and setting it on the bike.
“Thanks for not snitching,” he said. “Do you work soon?” He asked, curious.
“Um, tomorrow morning actually,” you tilted your head as he smiled. How was this man smiling when he was just shot at?
“Good to know. I’ll see you around, okay? And I’m serious about calling us for anything,” Bucky said. “Consider yourself inducted in. You caught a bullet, you’re one of us,” he chuckled slightly.
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile on your lips. “Yeah, yeah. Call me when my car is done.”
“Yes ma’am,” he nodded before grabbing the helmet and sliding it on his head. He got back on while you stepped up to the door, giving you a playful salute and driving away.
Talk about a weird day.
632 notes · View notes
acosmis-t · 7 months ago
Text
Pillows || R.W. x Reader
Behind Locked Doors Index
Word Count: 5.1k
Warnings: ddlg, grinding, technically masturbation, a touch of voyeurism but eh, edging, overstimulation, degradation, aftercare, smut, fingering, oral (female receiving), innocence/corruption, virgin!reader
Summary: When Ron catches you using his pillow for its not-intended purpose
Request: ddlg w ron? the reader being very innocent and humping her pillow, not knowing why it feels good and ron walks in and helps her, maybe w a lil bit of edging, degrading and overstimulation 😽
a/n: I'm ass at summaries lmao. idk if this is what you wanted but it’s where my mind went :)
Tag List: @weasleys-wizard-wap
—————
You were splayed out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling in hopes for it to give you ideas. Hermione was out, Harry was out, Ron was out; you were left all alone in your boyfriend’s prefect dorm.
The two of you had started to spend more time in those closed quarters, and now that’s where you waited, desperately ignoring that pooling in your stomach. You hadn’t gone that far with him yet—Ron still wanted to wait until you were ready—but today the desire was getting more and more insatiable.
You couldn’t close your eyes, couldn’t spare a blink more than a split-second, because anytime you did, images were painted across your lids. His lips and teeth and fingers on your neck and sliding to places that had remained untouched for your 16 years of life.
It was getting bad.
You tugged on your hair, stressed, but the sensation only made you whine. You knew you had to be flushed, despite the winter coldness. You turned on your side. Sat up. Laid back down. Reached your hands up and grabbed two fistfuls of fabrics, raising and then dropping them all around you.
He had always loved to have more pillows on his bed, and now they surrounded you. Some covered your legs and rested under your arms, warming you in a cocoon. You brought one to your face, screaming into it.
You were so bored.
You plopped it into the space between your legs, resuming your starfish position. You felt hot all over, itching and...and wet? You groaned, not sure what to do. You didn’t have the first clue as to how to take care of yourself—and even if you did, Ron had made it clear that he was to be your first, not your fingers.
He had prefect duties, you knew that, but it didn’t make the wait any less torturous. You just wanted to cuddle up beside him, let him tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. Maybe you could crawl on top of him like you did last time—his tongue brushing against the veins of your neck, thumb drawing lazy circles on your thigh, teeth-
Ugh. Very, very bad.
Maybe a shower was what you needed. Something cold, sobering, because you felt high—woozy on the feeling. You were heavy and needy, unable to get properly comfortable. He should’ve been back by now.
You sat up again, secure in your decision. A frigid shower was exactly what you needed, ice to freeze off the feeling. But as you moved, no longer supine, you shifted on top of the pillow from earlier. Your hips rolled against it.
Oh.
That was...odd. Almost an itch. A touch sensitive, but—but not entirely unpleasant. Actually, quite the opposite.
You shook your head, remembering yourself. You leaned forward to keep crawling off the bed, but your cunt brushed against the fabric again. An involuntary whimper left your mouth. You stopped trying to escape, a theory you wanted to test popping into your mind.
You tried straddling the pillow, completely lodged between your thighs, and planted your hands on the few inches that were stuck in front of you, keeping it in place. You rolled again, then again, a bit of pain, but something pushed you to do it some more.
You lifted up and slipped off your thin cotton shorts. You kept the panties on, then fully sat over it. You rolled your hips again, and a small moan slipped out. You felt a bit of something leak out and onto the pillowcase, and you looked down, finding a small, damp circle right where your crotch had been.
Heat bloomed in your cheeks, but you swallowed it down, getting back to work. You rutted on the pillow, and that itch was still there. It got worse, and you whined a bit as you sped up. Fire was crawling up your body, building in your stomach, decorating the sensitive insides of your thighs as the soft fabric rubbed against them.
You leaned forward, and the itch waned, a moan taking up as you dragged your clit forward. It still hurt, body not quite yet accustomed to such a feeling, but you didn’t want to stop. You went back, making sure that when you rolled your hips, all of your cunt felt some part of it.
Something strange filled you at one point. Like chills. One ran through your body, and you clenched your eyes as a bit more liquid wet the pillow. You kept going.
Your stomach started to hurt, a cross between nausea and pressure on your bladder. It was the good kind, though, and you sighed as the world fell away. Your teeth dug into your lip, and you sped up, small cries tumbling out as the pressure increased.
A knot tying everything tightly.
It shouldn’t have felt this good.
The door clicked open, and you froze, head flying up. Ron stared at you, shock lining his features.
A small smile tilted his lips up.
You flushed, shoving off the pillow and wrapping your arms around yourself. You and Ron both caught a glimpse of the wet pillow, a matching spot on your panties. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I’m really, really sorry.” Shame clotted in your throat.
Ron dropped his bags and robes, walking over to the bed and pushing aside some of the strewn pillows so he could sit on the edge. It reminded you of a father reprimanding a daughter. “Why are you sorry, darling?”
You looked down. “Because I messed up your pillow. And I made myself feel good without you.”
“Did that feel good?” You could hear the amusement fill his voice.
“Y-yes,” you stuttered, almost feeling like crying. “I’m sorry.”
Ron hummed, and you met his gaze, body still trembling. He had a dark look in his eyes, something you rarely got to see. He loosened the tie around his neck, discarding it along with his shoes and socks, moving onto the bed properly. “You made a mess of yourself, didn’t you, baby? Can you tell me who that pretty pussy belongs to?”
“Y-you, Daddy. It’s yours.” You let loose a breath as he brushed some of your hair away.
“Then why were you touching it without me? I don’t like my things being touched without my permission, baby. You should know better.”
You nodded against the scolding, “I’m sorry.” Your eyes widened as he picked up the pillow you had used. “N-no, it’s dirty, Daddy. It’s-”
He brought the wet spot to his nose, smelling your arousal. Your jaw dropped as he gently lapped at the fabric, a philosophical look on his face. “Don’t tell me what to do. You know that’s not your place.”
Ron dropped the pillow, sliding a hand up your bent legs instead, pushing them apart. When you didn’t listen, he sneered, “Let me see your mess. Let me see what you did.”
You whimpered, opening up, muscles trembling. You had that knot in your belly, making you slightly uncomfortable as it was still pulled tight.
“Relax, baby,” Ron said. “I just want to see your cunt. You acted out of place—y’know I don’t like that.”
You calmed down, but your eyes remained open as he slowly pulled your panties from under your bum and down your legs. You looked down, seeing the flesh pink and glistening. Ron prodded a finger, swiping it down your folds, gathering that liquid onto it.
He popped it into his mouth, groaning at the flavor. He looked to be in heaven.
You wrinkled your nose, pulling back. “Don’t do that, Daddy. It can’t be good.”
Ron glared at you, pushing your thighs apart once more. “Baby, you taste like a drug. This is my pussy, so don’t think of taking it away.”
He brushed his thumb against your clit, and you jumped away. “Ow,” you cried. He hit a small, very sensitive part of the knot, slightly hidden by the hood.
“You didn’t finish, did you? You’re awfully tender.”
“I-I don’t know. I don’t think so. I-”
“You know, Harry told me something funny once. It’s always the quiet ones—it’s some Muggle saying. Do you know what it means?” Ron was rubbing his hands up and down your thighs, positioning himself between them.
You shook your head. “N-no. What does it mean?”
He leaned forward, kissing you for a minute. You reacted immediately, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him over you entirely. Hooking your legs around his torso, you accidentally brushed your cunt against his trousers, the fabric rough and making you hiss.
You did it again.
“It means,” he whispered, his breath on the shell of your ear making your insides flutter, “that it’s always the most innocent ones—the quiet ones—that are the dirtiest fucking whores.”
A whimper fell out—echoed through the air as one of Ron’s hands slid between your bodies, grazing your clit once more. Every bit of air left your throat, every thought eddied from your mind. “R-Ron,” you mumbled, pushing your forehead up into his shoulder.
He pinched your labia in warning. “You had it right before. Don’t fuck everything up now, princess.”
“Feels good,” you continued, drawing in shaky breaths. The discomfort faded away, leaving only hunger in its wake.
“Did you even know what you were doing on that pillow? Could you even realize it?” He pressed the pad of his thumb onto your hood, and you jerked against him, chest heaving.
“Just felt good,” you slurred, that knot still twisting in your stomach, but slightly waned. You wanted it back.
He pushed down, and when you gasped, he lightened. Tears welled as he drew circles, path slickened already. “You are a slut, aren’t you? You put on a façade, pretend to be this innocent little girl. You almost had me convinced.”
“Ron,” you whined as that pressure built again, his thumb making intricate patterns.
He pinched your clit.
“Ow,” you sobbed, digging your teeth into his shoulder. “That hurts.” But you didn’t move away.
“You liked it. Don’t pretend you don’t. Do you want me to finish the job, baby? Make you feel good?” He pulled back, looking you in the eye.
You nodded instantly, ignoring the tears still falling. “Please, Daddy. Please.”
“Say that you want it. I need you to say it.” His mask switched off, seriousness taking over his features.
“I want it,” you breathed, grinding your hips against his hand and body.
Ron grinned, but you recognized the minute his role went back into place. He latched his lips onto your neck, and you arched, mewling. And you nearly died as he cupped your heat, his palm digging into your knot. “You need some help, don’t you? Didn’t realize what you were doing and now you’re all needy.”
“Please.”
He sucked on your pulse point, tongue tracing the rapid beat. There was a bruise when he pulled back. “I love it when you beg.”
A finger pushed into your entrance. You had tried it before, but only ever experienced slight discomfort, a smarting stretch. It wasn’t like that now. Now, his middle finger slid in with ease, making you wriggle against the sensation. He scraped a place that had your vision going spotty.
“Oh,” you whimpered, hips struggling involuntarily.
“What? Did you like that?” When you didn’t respond, he slid the finger away, straightening it.
“N-no, no, no. Go back. I liked it. A lot.” You shot a hand down, wrapping it around his wrist, trying to redirect his finger somehow. You wrestled for control, losing any propriety or submission because you had felt that knot tighten for a moment, then release when he moved.
“Don’t be a pest. I told you not to touch what’s mine.”
“But—Ro-”
He froze, pulling out to place a light slap on your clit, having you arch again, thighs pressing together for friction. “Fucking slut. You can’t do anything right—I don’t think you even deserve to cum.”
“Daddy.”
“I can make it rough for you,” he whispered, replacing his hand, this time a second finger accompanying the first. You winced at the stretch, a few tears falling as he pumped them into you harshly. “Would you like to have your first orgasm be while you’re crying? I know you like the pain.”
You weren’t capable of cohesive thoughts, not as he hit that same spot as before, practically punching it with his fingertips every time he thrust back in. Your thigh muscles shook a bit, cramped. You were gasping sounds, but none of them connected enough to enlighten Ron that he should never stop.
“Or, we can go slow,” he took the pace down, matching his low voice and words. You missed the speed immediately, the lazy rhythm making you almost uncomfortable, impatient. “Build it up so badly that you would even realize you came six times until you couldn’t walk for the rest of the day. I’ll drain every fucking ounce of pleasure out of you.”
“How about here, baby? Do you want me here as well?” He thumbed your clit, and fireworks lit in your stomach. The circles he massaged had you bucking, once more biting into his shoulder to contain yourself.
“F-fast. I think,” you gasped down a breath of air, “I think I might explode. I need it, Daddy. I wanna cum for you. Like your slut.” You adjusted to the two fingers, so when he made the ‘come-hither’ motion while still inside of you, your scream was edged only in ecstasy.
“Of course, darling. That’s all you ever will be—some pathetic slut who couldn’t understand how a pillow made her happy.”
And then, he was fucking you with his fingers. He had his hand tilted so every thrust shot at that special spot. You bent and unbent and turned and writhed under him. The feeling was all-consuming, drowning you—holding you underwater as he moved his thumb back up to your clit, rubbing those quick circles enough to have you drawing blood from his shoulder.
You knew tears were falling, only from the sheer enormity of feeling. You slipped out from your body, no thoughts at all except those humiliating, degrading insults and his fingers making you feel like you were on cloud nine. They were opposite meanings, but combined, blended into one intention. Muddy and confusing and absolutely pleasurable.
Orgasmic.
“Daddy—Daddy, it’s there. There, there, there.” Letters, syllables, meaningless phonetic structures fell out of your lips.
“What is, baby?” He slowed his fingers, almost pulling out, then roughly shooting them back in. It made you lift off the bed, your back tight as a bow. “Is my slut reaching her orgasm? Does she want to cum on my fingers? Make an even bigger mess?”
Helplessly, you nodded. You grew hot, flushed, trembling as he played you. Ron looked at you, hovering above and ensuring you met his eyes. They drew you in, pupils dilated, blue irises nearly gone. You could see your reflection in the black; shifting, your mouth parted, arched so much that your face was tilted toward the headboard, wanton moans a dangerous temptation.
He only kept going.
“‘M gonna….wanna cum, Daddy….please….” The knot was so tight you thought it might snap, breaking you with it.
But before it could get to that point, everything disappeared. Vanished into nothing. The knot immediately started to loosen, and another sob broke past. You dropped your spine back onto the bed, the world coming back into focus, dull ringing in your ears.
You hadn’t cum.
It almost hurt, how bad you wanted—no, needed—it. But Ron only smiled, resting back onto his haunches to get a full view of your cunt. He traced the folds, got a bit of arousal onto his finger, brought it to his mouth. He closed his eyes, and you saw the bulge in his pants that looked near painful.
“That’s the other way we could do this,” he murmured, returning that finger to circle your entrance. You hissed at the sensitivity. “I can make you wait—baby, I can make you wait for hours. And who knows? Maybe I still won’t let you cum. I take punishment very seriously.”
“I don’t need to be punished.” You sat up, but Ron loomed over you again, shoving you back down by the throat. “I wanna cum, Daddy. I want you to make me.” The way he looked at you made it feel as if he really would make you wait. Something danced, pulsed down below.
“I’m not sure. You were getting off on my pillow. Those are two things that belong to me. I have to punish you somehow.”
Your lip quivered.
“I can edge you like that until you can’t take it. All you’ll know are apologies and my name. One following the other. I can make you so, so sorry. And it’ll feel good, doll. It’ll feel so good. You trust me, yeah?” He moved back over you, drawing your thighs apart.
You nodded, bucking as he slid his hand back down, brushing underneath the hood of your clit. You jumped away, too much pain and stimulation already in that area. “Hurts,” you whimpered.
“Want me to try my tongue? Want me to lick you up—fuck you with it?” He pushed your knees up, then bent down to lick from entrance to clit, swirling the nerves.
The sensation was wet, prickling, incredible. He fasted his lips over your clit, then slipped his tongue through the folds—swiped it. You closed your thighs, but his head was in the way, burying him further in what laid in between. You felt him grin.
“If I left right now,” he started, the air on your most sensitive parts making you buck, “what would you do?”
You opened your mouth to respond, but he pushed his tongue into your entrance, incapacitating you entirely. He twisted it, did tricks with it, painted your insides with ten shades of pure exaltation. And he started going down on you; hot, sloppy, open-mouth kisses. He sucked on certain spots, not holding back, even as he brought you to near-overstimulation over and over.
He groaned against your cunt, and the vibrations made that knot renew. You started grinding against his face, and he only laughed, more vibrations driving you insane. Two fingers entered you, deep and finding a new location that had those fireworks exploding.
Your vision failed you, all comprehension failed you as those fingers twisted, scissored, curled against that swollen spot from before. It sent electric through your veins, shooting to your heart; the pain made you gasp. You wanted to get away, but something about it was too intoxicating.
Because even more, you wanted to cum.
“Daddy,” you whined. “Almost there.”
His free hand wound up, blindly finding one of yours and threading your fingers together. You took a tight grip, needing him to ground you as you felt like floating away. The knot twisted, a coil winding and winding until it was unimaginably taut.
No longer could you discern what he was doing, only that you wished he never stopped. His tongue, his lips, his fingers, his teeth were everywhere, lighting you on fire. Your muscles were shaking and an edge approached, your climax hanging in your peripheral.
You screamed in frustration as he pulled away once again, squeezing the life out of his hand. The actions left you raw, overstimulated, and all you could do was pull your legs together slowly, shielding yourself. He spread chaste kisses along your hipbones, teasing things that could’ve made you cry.
No. They did make you cry.
“Please,” you wailed, throat clogging as you were repeatedly deprived of something so good. “You said you would help me, Daddy. This is not helping.”
His chuckle was low, warming your veins. “Sure, it is. Two things you soiled, and that means two times I take away something you want. It’s only fair, baby.”
“Does that mean I can cum now? Please?” Your entire body was trembling, sweaty and disheveled. Much more of a mess than you had started.
Ron smiled at you, shifted forward so he could press his lips to the back of your hand. You saw his tongue dart out, licking the arousal left on his chin. “I have some work to do—prefect duties and all that.”
You snorted. “You? Doing work?” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pinning yourself under his body. You kissed up his throat, sucking and dragging your tongue up the veins. Ron groaned, and it made something pool lower. “I can make you feel good, Daddy. I’m ready.”
Contorting your arms and torso, you got your shirt up and over your head, discarding it to the side. You silently thanked the fact that you had forgone a bra, easier access to your breasts. The hardened nipples pressed against his chest, and it earned another groan.
“I didn’t take you for a tease,” he murmured, slanting his mouth over yours. He bit down lightly on your lip. “I can punish you for that too.”
You shook your head immediately, and he chuckled again, though that pooling did grow. “If you own me, then take me. There’s no teasing at all.”
Ron pulled back, sparing one last peck before getting off the bed completely, languid as he wandered to his desk, falling into the chair and drawing parchment. “Maybe later,” he brushed you off, a careless wave of the hand.
“But-”
“Don’t argue with me. I have things to do, things that are more important than some pathetic whore.” And then his attention was diverted, focused on an assignment you just knew he didn’t understand a word of.
You sighed loudly before resuming your initial position, stretched out on the bed, this time the boredom overshadowed with something else. A much heavier desire. You spared a look to the back of Ron’s head, but it was bent intently over his desk, and you could feel the smile permeating through the room.
Ugh. Parallels, while usually fun, could be quite frustrating at times like these.
Desperate times.
Desperate times. Desperate measures.
You spared Ron another look, then watched the room. You were slick, soaked with arousal and spit and sweat and you thought you might as well take advantage of natural lubrication. Silently, you trailed a hand down, feeling how wet you were.
Extremely. Unimaginably.
You started at the entrance, circling it, gasping at the feeling. It wasn’t as good as when Ron did it, but there were still overstimulated nerves to be toyed with. You let a moan slip out, but he ignored you.
“Don’t be a brat,” he growled, still not turning.
You neglected the advice, sliding up to your clit. You felt along the folds, a realer moan fell at the first circle you drew on the knot. The positioning wasn’t right to rub it with your thumb as Ron had, so you tried something that felt more comfortable; your index and middle finger had perfect access.
Copying his actions, you tried fast circles. Another shudder ran through your body, and your legs shook with abandon. It hurt, beyond stimulated, but you could only keep going, that knot still very much alive. After a minute, an itch started to build; you caught a certain angle, and you near-screamed, speeding up as that coil got tighter than ever.
You didn’t notice Ron had moved until a hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping your ministrations. His teeth were bared, glaring as he took away your third orgasm.
“You are so lucky—so fucking lucky. On your knees. Now.” His voice was hoarse, and you moaned a bit, keeping your eyes closed as his grip tightened.
“Now,” he snarled, pulling your hand away, throwing it to the side. 
You nodded, slowly pushing yourself up onto shaky legs. The lights were brightened, sounds cotton as Ron pushed your knees apart. Your brow furrowed, looking at him with concern. But he paid it no mind, simply grabbing your original pillow and sliding it into the space between, pushing your shoulders down so your cunt was flush against it.
“Wha-” you started, wriggling around, then hissing at just how sensitive the area had become.
Once you were positioned properly, he sat back in his chair, reclined as his lip curled. “Ride it. Don’t think of stopping—not even when you cum.”
“But I’ve never-”
“You’ll know. So will I. I’m making it up to you, baby. Be more appreciative. This will make you happy.” His words were convincing, dripping of sweetness. Like honey.
You nodded, chewing your lip as you planted your hands like you had the first time. From there, you wasted no time, rolling against the pillow. A moan immediately fell out, the process so much smoother and pleasurable than before. You were bare against the fabric, but it didn’t stop you, the receptivity so much higher.
Your eyes watered as you sped up; half from overstimulation and half from the way Ron degraded you like he would a pile of dirt. You focused on the friction near your entrance, your clit still too sensitive.
Ron hummed, but stayed silent, watching you intently. You looked up, closing your lids as the actions became a chase. They weren’t elegant—not in the slightest—and you started bucking back and forth, the release feeling so far yet so close.
“F..fu...fuck,” you stumbled over the words, warmth blooming somewhere low. The pain faded entirely, muscles spasming as you tried to go as fast as possible, desperation serving as motivation.
Your hands were so tight that they flushed away from their normal color; red and white and desperate. Vaguely, you tasted iron in your mouth, but it meant nothing, especially as the sounds leaving it were so much more guttural.
They stemmed from somewhere deep in your throat, and as you shifted, legs spread and exposing more, they grew louder. Ron made a noise of his own, something caught in the crosshairs of a groan and curse.
You whimpered, clenching your eyes shut as you concentrated on finally being given an orgasm. You heard the bed creak with how quick your movements were, but it meant nothing. Your tits were bouncing as you rode the pillow, hair stirring as you gasped, pushed to the very edge.
“Please,” you whined, that knot nearly hurting your stomach. You didn’t know what you were asking for.
You felt his hands surround you, no longer sitting in his chair. They brushed against your neck and shoulders, goosebumps erupting on the skin set alight. The mattress dipped for a second as Ron crawled onto it, hands finding your waist; not controlling, but steadying.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
You gently lifted your head, peeling your eyes open to find his even more encapsulated in black. There must have been desperation in your features, because he finally granted you the one thing that sent you over the edge.
“Cum.”
Your vision turned white, blood rushing in your veins as you screamed, torn and muffled by your hand. You went faster, trying to ride it out and wring as much from it as possible. Your legs were quaking, arms tight and contracted as you felt like you nearly ascended, chest rising then falling back into your body.
For a moment, there was only breathing. You could feel everything around you, every sense picking up every observation. You leaned forward, finding Ron’s shoulder as his hands rubbed up and down your arms.
“You made such a mess of yourself,” he hushed you. “Getting off on a fucking pillow. Dirty fucking whore,” he brought up his words from before.
You shook slightly, off-balance as you noticed how soaked the pillow was. You tried to get back onto it, remembering his command not to stop, but you collapsed forward again.
Ron lifted you off the item, gathering you up into his lap so you were seated bridal-style across him. You laid into his arm, drained, until his hand slid down, parting your legs and feeling your cunt. You sobbed, his touch like needles.
“You liked that, yeah?” He fingered your entrance, getting some of the cum and pulling it to his lips. He sucked the digit off.
“Yes, Daddy,” you murmured. “Was really good….wanna do it again….”
He kissed your forehead, pulling you tight to his chest. “Not tonight. Too much for your first time.”
“But we didn’t even get to….” You let him finish the thought.
“Trust me, baby, we will be doing a lot of that. But not tonight. You wanna get cleaned off?” His voice was much softer than before, soothing you.
You nodded, but exhaustion threaded through your lashes, dragging them down. “In a minute.”
He chuckled, and you fell deeper into his comforting warmth. It was a different sort of drowsiness, making all your thoughts and worries disappear for a while. You barely noticed when he lifted you up, bouncing against his chest as he walked you into the bathroom.
You jumped, then relaxed as he placed you into the warm tub of water. Your muscles thanked you immediately, especially as Ron cleaned you off, massaging out the aftershocks. He drew the washcloth up and down your body, careful as he went inside your thighs.
And when he was done, he dried you off, doing an impressive bit of magic as he transfigured the sheets into something clean, laying you under the covers. You were half-asleep as he walked away, reaching your arms out blindly for him to come back.
He smiled, shaking his head, then coming to the other side of the bed, turning out the lights as he slid in beside you, instantly drawing you into his arms. His length poked at your back, but you could hardly remember it.
“My first orgasm was to a pillow. Can you believe that?” You wrapped yourself tighter against him while you whispered.
“Can’t say I wasn’t the least bit jealous. I know you’ll make it up to me, though.” His laugh made you descend further into unconsciousness, bringing you to rest.
It was quiet for a bit, his hands still idly massaging and rubbing your muscles, making sure no soreness or tremors would persist. His breathing slowed your own, eyes burning until you closed them, letting yourself be lilted away.
“Ron?” you asked after a few minutes. He roused a bit behind you, and you realized he had been falling asleep as well, despite his clearly still awake member.
“Hmm?” You felt the vibrations on the shell of your ear, barely holding on long enough to respond.
“I don’t think I’ll ever see pillows the same.”
994 notes · View notes
solies-scripts · a year ago
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Karasuno receiving nudes
This is post-time skip so all characters are adults. It’s all under the cut because this came out hella long and I don’t want to clog up the tags or my blog 💕 Yes I’m ignoring a system update for my phone, just ignore that
This didn’t come out as good as I hoped but I’m still kinda proud of it.
Edit: I was just told that the emojis in the fake messages are not in the base yellow colour and are in fact in the ‘white’ option. I didn’t know that when I posted this almost 6 months ago as I’m colour-blind, I’m extremely sorry for this mistake and I really didn’t mean to offend anyone in any way. I will make sure I don’t make a mistake like this again. Once again I am extremely sorry
NSFW under the cut 💕
Ukai Keishin
He will be shocked that you sent him something like that but he would be pretty chill about it
You will get the smoothest yet dirtiest compliments from him
And yes, he will ask you to send him some more too
He will tell you to behave yourself and wait for him to be finished in the shop
If you live with him then you know full well that he is going to close the shop early to go upstairs for you
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Sawamura Daichi
He would be so smooth with you
Compliments how good you look of course because he you look stunning to him
But he will also tell you exactly what he is going to do to you when he gets home from work
If you send him multiple to try and tease him then he will warn you to behave
It’s your choice if you continue or not, it might make things more interesting for you
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Sugawara Koushi
It can go one of two ways with Suga
If you send them when he isn’t busy then he will take his time to compliment your body 
He will also tell you that he thinks you deserve a treat for the pretty pictures
But if you send them to him while he is busy then he is going to give you one warning
It’s your choice whether to listen the warning but be careful because he will punish you if you don’t listen to him 
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Azumane Asahi
Shook™
At first he doesn’t know how to respond and just makes sure to go to a more private place so people can’t see his phone
That is until you send more and get him riled up
Then he is complimenting and praising every part of your body making sure you know exactly what he thinks of you
If he can get out of work early then you can be assured that he is doing so to come home to you
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Nishinoya Yuu
Hypes you up so hard
His messages would be a mess of compliments and dirty talk, not knowing which one to stick to
Like, you will know how attractive he thinks you are and how hard you made him
He will tell you that he will be home soon to have some fun with him
If you send him multiple then this man will rush to get home to you
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Tanaka Ryuunosuke
Another one that hypes you the fuck up
No matter what you send him or when he will tell you how amazing and beautiful you are
Once he gets that out of his system he will ask for more and might even suggest some poses
He has no shame in doing so because he doesn’t think he should be embarrassed about being attracted to his s/o
He will tell you exactly what those pictures did to him as well
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Kageyama Tobio
He wouldn’t know what to do
It would take him a little while to respond because he is trying to think of a good response
If you want him to hurry up then send him more and he will finally tell you how good you look
He’ll be super blunt about it but you will know that you had a pretty big affect on him
He probably won’t be able to get out of practise early seeing as he is apart of a pro-team so you will have a very riled up Tobio when he gets home
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Hinata Shoyo
Hinata probably turns his phone completely off when he is practising with the Black Jackals so you won’t get a quick response
Once he does finally look at his phone you had better hope that he isn’t still around is team because he will go bright red
If he is around them then they will be able to tell exactly what kind of message he got as he scurries off so he can respond
He will compliment the hell out of you and tell you how amazing you are
At least you know that he is on his way home when he responds so you won’t have to wait too much longer
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Yamaguchi Tadashi
As soon as he opens his phone to check your message he is going to lock his phone again so fast
He would be so flustered he wouldn’t know what to do with himself 
Once he realises that he should probably respond to you he will go somewhere a little more private 
He will apologise for the late response and will compliment how amazing you are
Baby doesn’t have the guts to leave where he is early in case of someone figuring it out but he will assure you that he will be home as soon as he can
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Tsukishima Kei
This sly motherfucker
He would tell you how lewd you are for sending him these pictures when he is busy
But don’t worry he will tell you how perfect you look to him in his own little way
And yes he will be coming home early just for you because he is whipped
He will tell you exactly how he wants to find you when he gets home though
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Shimizu Kiyoko
This will fluster the hell out of her
She wasn’t expecting something like this from you while she was at work
After taking a minute to calm herself down a little she will respond telling you that she thinks you look amazing
But she will also apologize to you and say that even though she wants to come home early she cannot
But don’t worry she will make it up to you when she does get home
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Yachi Hitoka
You might have killed her
She just wasn’t expecting something like this from you right at that moment so it pretty much kills her
Even though she is super flustered she will respond immediately with a jumbled compliment
She will ask you what you want her to do because she really has no clue
Her job can be pretty flexible so she might be able to come home early too
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Tags:
@daichi-stan​ @ya-local-asahi-nonnie​ @rattycakes263​
5K notes · View notes
some-kindofgnome · 4 months ago
Text
you turn me on (i’m a radio)
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bokuto comes over one night midweek while you’ve got the apartment to yourself. after a mishap with his favourite volleyball shorts, you take advantage of the privacy.
c: koutarou bokuto x reader
wc: 5.4k
tags: smut (18+ please!), college au, aged-up characters, oral sex (both receiving), praise kink, begging, soft and sloppy sex feat. bo the horny simp giving u the creampie of ur life, body worship if u squint
notes: bo has a fat ass and I have a praise kink. that is all. oh, wait, i should also mention that this is mostly unedited. so if u see typos feel free to point em out! thx 💕
the song this bit is named after is so sweet and sunny & makes me think of bo all the time, so give it a listen if you’d care to! ☀️
ALSO forgot to mention that this was inspired by a tiktok i saw like a million years ago where this girl was helping her boyfriend get out of his too-small rugby shorts. it has been lost to the ether but you better BELIEVE if i ever find it again i’ll be linking it here
EDIT: @karikarasuno​ the absolute ANGEL has scoured the internet and found the tiktok in question.  p l e a s e go and watch it, u will not regret 😌
(MASTERLIST)
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“’Kay, okay, I’m going!”
Bokuto tears himself from the tender press of your mouth in one fell swoop. As he whirls away with a tempted giggle, he combs his fingers through his mussed-and-sweaty hair. Practice was only two hours tonight, but he still doesn’t want to leave your side even long enough to shower.
You’ve only been dating for a few months, still lingering in that phase of every new relationship that feels too good to last. Your emotional involvement in one another deepens by the day, but you never fight. And you have a shamefully difficult time keeping yourself away from him. On a weeknight like this with no big assignments to speak of, you should be catching up on your readings, your chores, or even your sleep. But when you passed Bo in the quad earlier, pausing in your walk to class for a hi and a kiss, you’d invited him over before you could even stop yourself.
He’s nice to be around. Pleasant, unhindering. Even if you wanted to finish some readings or do some laundry while he’s over, he’s happy to be idle in your company. He is infuriatingly patient and understanding sometimes, compared to the slew of demanding, needy boyfriends that came before him.  
You watch him retreat into the safety of your bedroom, grinning like a fool. He’s fresh out of practice and practically dripping in sweat, dried from the walk you shared from the athletic center. Your evening class that night wrapped up around the same time as his practice, and when you passed the gym doors on your way home, he was already loitering on the steps with his teammates. Instead of pretending he didn’t see you or offering you a casual, passing nod like you expected, he practically bounded down the wide concrete steps and introduced you gleefully to the pack of volleyball players behind him who already knew you well.
There was no way you were letting him go all the way home to shower first. Not when he’s never minded smelling like your orange-and-sandalwood shower gel in the first place.
Once he’s disappeared, you give a yawn and a deep stretch and haul ass off the couch, padding into the kitchen to tidy up the snacks you shared on the way in the door.
You’ve barely got the first plates in the sink before a muffled babe? from the bedroom gives you pause.
“Bo?” You call back, setting your handful down and trying to keep your brow from furrowing too deeply. “You okay?”
“Can you… um…” His response starts off strong, louder than before, but it dwindles into a dull, unintelligible mutter that sounds uncertain enough to send you away from the kitchen.
You gently shoulder the bedroom door open, frowning at his broad shape, silhouetted in the shadowy bathroom doorway from the light behind him. “What’s the matter?”
Feeling along the wall for the light switch, you illuminate the pot lights over your bed.
Bokuto’s cheeks are gently flushed as he waddles toward you with his thumbs dug into the waistband of his volleyball shorts. The fabric is tough and certainly seems clingy, but there’s a strain in his neck and shoulders that takes you a minute to pin down.
“I can’t…” he starts to say, trailing off, then pulls his hands out of his shorts and drops them to his side with a heavy, defeated sigh.
“They’re stuck.”
You force the corners of your mouth downward, tightening the line of your mouth to keep the mirth locked firmly in your throat.
“I can see that.”
He’s been hitting the gym hard lately, shoving down the calories to try and bulk up a little for the upcoming tournament season. And while you know he’s been putting on some weight, since he tells you just about everything, it never occurred to you that he might be bulking up quick enough to outgrow his favourite shorts.
Bo lets out a quiet little whine, digging a thumb into the waistband one more time and prompting you to step forward.
“How stuck are you?” You reach for him. He turns sideways, twisting his chin over one shoulder to try and assess the situation from every plausible angle.
Oh. You slap a hand to your mouth.
The waistband is rolled down around his hips and already strained to its absolute limit, stuck on the sharp swell of his butt and already compressing the flesh in a way that looks genuinely painful. He’s wearing a pair of tight white compression shorts underneath the uniform shorts in question, but they’re not doing much to aid the situation, either.
You’re eager to get him out of those shorts for several reasons now.
“Alright.” You try to keep your voice low, stepping up to his front and gently laying your hands on the stiff cotton roll at his hips. “Let me just-“
“I don’t know what happened,” he whines, slotting his hands on top of yours and squirming in between them. “They were hard to get on, but-“
“Don’t worry,” you interrupted softly. “We’ll get them off you one way or another.”
The fearful reflection of your sharpest kitchen scissors in his eyes suggests that he believes you.
Your first two attempts are about as successful as Bokuto’s solo endeavours. First, you wedge your hands into the fabric at his sides while he pushes from the front and back, but you give a hard shove while he lets up on the tension and his elbow very nearly connects with your nose, so you try a different approach.
Coming round to his backside, you dig your hands into the space between his uniform shorts and the tight spandex that holds what’s left of his modesty.
“Okay,” you pant, already a little breathless after dodging Bokuto’s flying elbows. “What if I-“
“Hang on,” he prompts, but it’s too late. You wind up and jump as hard as you can, using the downward force generated to try and shove the confining waistband down over his hips. It slides down another couple of inches, and inspiration flares in your chest as Bokuto turns over one shoulder, sweating.
“It’s working!” Your voice comes shrill with excitement, and before he can stop you you’re jumping again, shoving even harder this time. You meet resistance this time, and before you can clue in to what’s pushing back Bokuto howls in pain and doubles over, clasping his palms between his thighs.
“Oh, fuck, baby, I’m sorry.” You drop to one knee beside him as he descends into pained laughter.
“’S alright,” he promises, “I didn’t want kids that bad, anyway.”
You can’t help the snort that bubbles forward from your chest. Bo straightens slowly as his pain fades, but you stay on your knees, determined to get him undressed without resorting to textile violence.
Determination settles heavy and proud across your shoulders. You look up through your brows at him and when your eyes meet, his cheeks pink softly.
“We got this.”
Bokuto’s throat bobs. He nods shallowly and pulls his lower lip between his teeth.
You slip your hands into his shorts again, rolling them slowly down his thighs. Bokuto averts his eyes, letting out another audible gulp. Just when you’re starting to get somewhere, his hips twitch and he shifts his weight restlessly from one leg to the other.
“Stand still,” you scold, giving his hip a little slap. His breath hitches, hands flinching forward as he dips his torso backward.
“Um,” he pants. When you look up at him again, his neck and ears are bright red and he’s got his eyes trained firmly on the Star Wars poster hanging above your desk.
You level your gaze and realize two things.
1) Bokuto’s not wearing anything under his white compression shorts.
2) Apparently, your little scare wasn’t nearly as painful for him as he let on.
“Babe,” you tease. “I’m flattered, really.”
“C’mon!” He protests, scraping his fingers through the wild strands of his sweat-clumped hair. “What’d you think was gonna happen if you got down there all…”
“All what?” You lean forward without thinking, nuzzling the spandex that sits in the groove between his hip and his thigh. He groans deeply, letting his head fall back. His cock, thickening at the base, is still restrained tightly by the waistband of his shorts. You can practically see it throb into its confines, and his groan pinches tight with discomfort.
“Baby, please.” He’s wound his hands tightly in the front of his t-shirt by now, rucking it up over his belly for some way to dispel the tension. “Get ‘em off. Please.”
“You’re not exactly making it easier.”
A desperate whine from over your head suggests that maybe the time for jokes is passing. You abandon all coyness and tuck your hand under the weight of his balls, gently tugging down on the waistband and freeing all of him from its confining pressure. Bokuto gasps and lets his hips swing forward, but his dick swells quickly to fill its new, spandex restraint and you figure you’d better work quickly.
“God, this is really turning you on, isn’t it?” You can’t help the eagerness in your tone as you attack the swell of his hips one last time. With all his sensitive parts in the clear you don’t have to hold back, wedging and wrenching until the widest part of his pelvis is free and the shorts drop to the floor with a soft little triumphant rustle.
Bokuto groans like he’d just been strapped to a time bomb, stepping out of the fabric and kicking it towards the door. He drops the hem of his shirt and reaches for you, but you’re already leaning in to nose against the crook of his thigh some more, peeling down the stretchy, forgiving top of his compression shorts.
“Wh- babe.” He flushes. “I haven’t showered-“
“Don’t care,” you hum, entranced by the hypnotic length of his shaft, white spandex stretched sheer and dabbed with wet at the tip. “Want to taste you.”
“Are you s- oh, you’re sure.” His hands surge forward, this time soothing lovingly over the crown of your head as you tug the stretchy fabric down to his knees. His cock bobs eagerly against one thigh, unaffected by its confining endeavour, and you lean in and seal your mouth against the seam of his groin, where his shaft meets his body.
He is bulky and broad, thick cords of muscle and fat spanning his thighs and torso. His thighs and pelvis are dusted all over with wiry silver hair, and you bury your nose into the trimmed patch of it over his cock, licking eagerly at his soft skin.
Above you, Bokuto shudders hard enough to buckle his knees while you trace your hand up the stiff length of him. You’re trying your best to hide just how deeply you want to breathe him in, the addicting musk of his sweat filling your brain and sending deep throbs of arousal straight to your pussy.
“So hard,” you groan into his hip, “just from letting me get on my knees for you?”  
He draws a sharp breath through his teeth, squeezing at the back of your head as his eyelashes flutter. His face is beet red from nose to hairline now.
“W-well, what else was I s’posed to- with you lookin’…” He is borderline incoherent, and you haven’t even put your mouth on him yet.
Adorable.
“You smell so good,” you murmur without thinking, flicking your eyes to his quickly when you realize what you’ve said. But it only serves to push his own arousal further, cock throbbing palpably between your fingers as he curses quietly through his teeth.
“Please,” he groans, letting his head roll back. “Don’t tease.”
You can’t deny a request as pleasantly worded as that.
After planting one more teasing kiss along the plane of his shaft, you draw back to his tip and give your tongue an enthusiastic flick, dipping it into his weeping slit. He yelps, and you swallow him down before he can ride out the shock, making him shiver. You can feel the tremor racking all the way down the column of his spine, his toes curling on the floor by your knees.
When you start to bob your head, his jaw goes completely slack. You’re learning to love the way he doesn’t hold back with you, a point made obvious by the expressions crossing his face as you settle into a steady rhythm. You can’t fit his entire length- impressive, not that he knows it- into your throat, but when you grip the base of his shaft with one hand and the spit from your throat drips eagerly between your fingers, he practically goes cross-eyed.
You fight the urge to smile around him, leaning into the way he fusses and grips at your skull.
“Nggh, babe, not gonna last long… when… suckin’ like that.” He’s grabbing your head with both hands, rocking his hips tightly forward in time with your gaudy slurping. You’re drooling all over your hand, spit dripping obscenely down your chin and onto the hardwood, but his whimpers are growing to obscene levels, punctuated by deep, chesty growls and quiet, slurred praise.
There’s no way you’re going to back off now.
You’ve been with Bo long enough to know his tells, so when his thighs start twitching and his voice pitches from his chest into his throat, you re-double your efforts, intensifying his pleasure until he’s howling and panting like a beast, rocking tightly into your mouth with his abs drawn tight as a bow.
“Ohhh, babe, lemme cum on your tits,” he pleads, slurring every syllable together as he looks down at you with unimaginable bliss mounting in his gaze. “Please, please, please, your tits, lemme cum on ‘em.”
With a smirk touching one corner of your mouth, you drop your free hand between his thighs. Until now it had been braced delicately on his hip, gently mitigating the wild bucks and twitches of his body giving into ecstasy. But you’d picked up one little trick that never failed to boost him over the edge- and send him falling that much further as a result.
As you draw your mouth back from his twitching cock, you close your free hand around the heavy sack of his balls- drawn up tight to his thighs in preparation for his orgasm- and give the supple skin a gentle little tug while you arch your back and jerk him off against the swell of your chest.
Bo’s voice shoots up a twelve-tone as his hands slide from your hair to your cheeks. His fingers tremble as he cups your face, throwing his head back with a wild yowl and wildly humping your fist. The first long spurt of his cum hits you square in the throat, dripping down between your collarbones and soaking the neckline of your tank top as he rides out the powerful waves of his climax. By the time it’s over, his thighs are shaking hard, tough lines of muscle standing out against the silver hair while his cock dribbles ripe streams right down your shirt.
He deflates with a heavy, heady sigh, falling to one knee in front of you and keeping your face gathered between his palms.
“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he moans, leaning in to capture your mouth and dip his tongue sloppily against yours. As soon as he’s found your lips he skates his hands down your shoulders to your breasts, lovingly cupping and thumbing the tightening buds of your nipples where thick shots of his cum are soaking into the white cotton. You can’t help the shaky little sigh that catches at the back of your throat, or the aching way you lean into his touch.
“G’nna-“ he cuts himself off, dipping his face into your throat. He licks into the tender column of your windpipe, bringing one big palm to the back of your neck to hold your head steady while he tucks his chin in and tastes the wet stripes of his cum that paint your décolletage. You’re not exactly sure what to expect, but the long, wet groan he lets into your chest is a pleasant surprise. He slides his hands from your neck to your shoulders to your sides and up the plane of your back, drawing you closer while he laps the mess from your collarbones and neckline.
“C’mon,” he mumbles into the swell of your left breast. “Gotta taste all of you.”
He slips his arms underneath you, lifting you with little more than a quiet grunt of effort as he gets to his feet. He holds you lovingly against his chest, striding slowly across the room and depositing you onto the bed with a smooth little bounce.
You hardly have the space to catch your breath before he braces a knee on the mattress beside you and leans down for another taste of your lips, kissing you slow and loving and skating a palm down your front. He slips his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, slipping his fingertips across your clit and making you yelp. Chuckling into your mouth, he dips his fingers lower and gasps.
“God,” he sighs. “Shoulda known you were holding out on me.” He sinks his middle finger into your clingy depths while he catches your mouth under his one more time. You’ve been unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone words, pinned sensuously under his touch, but as he curls his fingers against the restrictive insides of your leggings, you whine deep and slow into his mouth, arching your back to push your hips into his touch.
He doesn’t linger, drawing his hand from you and curling it in the waistband of your leggings instead. You’re slipping your fingers under the hem of your soiled tank top, pulling it up to expose the bare swell of your breasts.
“Let me?” He poses it like a question, pulling your leggings and underwear down and fluttering a kiss to the newly exposed skin below your belly button.
“Please,” you pant, already planting your feet in the fluffy sheets to lift your hips and help him undress you.
He pulls your leggings and underwear down over your hips in one smooth motion, pulling just a little harder than necessary to make you gasp and giggle. Your ass lands on the mattress all at once, punctuated by another handful of mirth that you can’t keep contained.
Bo’s grinning down at you as he balls up your clothes and tosses them toward the hamper like a mid-court basket shot. He doesn’t wait to find out if they made it, though, settling himself between your knees and gathering your hips into his arms.
“So soft,” he purrs, kissing the velvet skin of your tummy.
“Bo,” you whine. It’s your turn in the hot seat, and now the idea of teasing isn’t half as appealing as it was when you were on your knees.
“What? You don’t want me to take my time with you?”
You groan, letting your head flop back against the pillows as your eyes slip shut. Now that he’s got you bare, with his breath puffing hot and wanting over your tender skin, it’s hard to focus on anything but what you want.
“Don’t be mean,” you whine, but the hot press of his tongue on your inner thigh shuts you up fast. He moans low and rumbly against the damp of your skin, sinking his teeth gently into the fat of your thigh and giving a noisy suck.
“You’re so ready for it,” he muses, eyes darting sideways to admire your weeping slit. The buzz of his voice shoots right down the column of your spine, vibrating pleasantly at the base of your tailbone and sending goosebumps racing up your torso.
“Man,” Bo sighs, planting one hand on each thigh and pushing them apart. “You must really like suckin’ me off, huh?”
“I swear,” you grit. “I’m never touching your dick again if you don’t-“
He doesn’t waste another minute, leaning down and sealing his mouth greedily over your slit. The payoff is there for both of you, if the sound he makes when he dips his tongue between your folds is anything to go by.
The relief comes on swift wings as soon as he lets his tongue wander, stoking the fire that had been burning dangerously low and hot in your gut. Your thighs twitch in toward his ears while he tastes your messy slit, but his palms are as strong as shackles, keeping you open and vulnerable for him.
Bo prods his tongue forward, pressing inward as far as he can with a tiny little strained groan of effort. You cry out and clamp down around his tongue like a vice, a reaction he feels so vividly it makes him whip back from your body with a laugh.
“Don’t stopppp,” you plead, but his face is already disappearing between your thighs again, and you wrap your fingers in the hem of your tank top while he re-focuses his efforts on your swollen clit. He’s pressing his hips forward in a slow tempo that matches the patterns he tongues between your thighs, softly humping the mattress in time with your pleasure.
You’re sensitive and ready for him, stomach tightening smoothly when he settles into a rhythm. His technique is sloppy but he makes up for it in eagerness, pausing only to take deep breaths through his nose. He smiles into your skin and you can feel the way his mouth twitches against you, making you arch your back and slide one hand between your legs to rake through the silvery strands of his mussed hair. He grunts hard against your clit and you jump, giving him the chance to slip his hands under your thighs and hook them over his shoulders.
When he swallows you down this time, there’s something in the changed angle that drives pleasure straight down your back, letting it reverberate all the way into your toes. You flinch hard between his hands, and as he settles back into his messy, enthusiastic rhythm, you feel the telltale twinges of your building climax.
“Bo-“ you choke on his name.
He flicks his gaze to yours and his eyes flash, bright and golden. He knows your tells, too, and he sinks his fingers into the fat of your thighs, re-doubling his efforts and sucking a languid rhythm into your needy clit.
“Fuck,” you sputter. “Fuck, f-fuck, I-ah-“
Your mouth drops open, but the scream dies in your throat as white-hot pleasure bursts through your veins. Bokuto is heartbreakingly persistent, keeping up his ministrations while you claw at his hair and clamp your thighs down around his temples and ride the waves of your orgasm as gracefully as possible. By the time the sharp, burning pleasure’s raked its way through you, all your limbs have gone tense, and when it’s over you collapse, sweat-soaked, to the sheets beneath you.
Bo’s trembling between your legs, and when he surfaces his cheeks and ears are maroon. His cock is still twitching against his belly, bobbing as he gets onto his knees and still weeping long streams of spend.
“Oh.” The word flies from your throat before you can trap it, and he rubs your thighs soothingly with both hands as he takes a shaky, cleansing breath.
“You’re so-“ he starts to say, but you reach for him and he’s got no choice but to dip his cheek into your palm, flushing even deeper at the open way you stare.
“C’mere,” you prompt. Bo takes the bait and flops forward, landing stomach-first on the bed beside you and pillowing his head between your slick breasts. The position ought to be comical, but the weight of him is immensely soothing, rising and falling with the even pulse of your laboured breath.
You lie that way for a long while, staring vacantly past your reflection in the dark window beside your bed. The nighttime chill radiates through the glass, cooling your heated flesh. Your body aches with the fresh sensations of climax, but you’re not ready to put your clothes on yet.
“Bo.”
“Hmm?” It never occurred to you that he might be half-asleep until he winds himself upright, blinking weighty silver lashes against his still-blushing cheeks.
Still, you know how to wake him up. The conspiratory grin that touches your mouth is completely involuntary, and it’s enough to have Bokuto cocking a tired brow.
“Can I ride your cock?”
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything at all. His eyes grow slowly bigger, focus drifting away from your face as his jaw drops. Literally.
“Bo? Baby?”
“Y- b- I… h-“ he sputters, blinking hard and shaking out his sweaty hair. He looks up at you again with an expression unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Like a kid at the zoo.
“Right now?”
You can’t hold back a snort, shoulders pitching forward. But he’s not kidding.
Neither are you.
You raise your eyebrows. “Is that a yes?”
By the time he rolls over, his cock’s already half-hard again, swelling against the strong cord of his right thigh. He sits up, scooting himself comfortably back against your bed’s stacked pillows. And when he reaches for you, you’re already rooting through the nightstand for supplies.
Bo’s a big dude, in every conceivable way. And while he’s never exactly been shy about that fact, he’s also painfully aware of the fact that with great power comes great responsibility. So when you start to warm a dollop of chilly water-based lube between your fingers, he doesn’t flinch.
“Mmmf.” He pushes his hips into your hands as you wrap them around his shaft, letting him swell into your palms while you slick him up. He’s still tender from before, and when you shift onto your knees your clit’s still tensing with leftover pleasure, but you’re buzzing with want. It hangs thick and heavy in the air between you. You’re unwilling to let it dissipate until you’re both completely satisfied.
By the time you’ve got the lube spread evenly from his base to his tip, Bo’s fully hard for you again, flushed and panting and grabbing at your hips as you scoot forward to straddle him. His impatience should probably bother you, but at this point it’s just endearing.
“Hmm, you’re so close,” you say, leaning forward to brush your lips against his. His mouth drops open as you bring his tip to your ready sex. Your pussy clamps involuntarily around the swell of his weeping head, and you’re panting into each others’ mouths as your hips sink slowly backward. The fill of him presses up into your belly, and you bottom out with a little flinch of discomfort, settling your thighs over his. He’s long enough that it actually hurts to take him in all the way like this, but you’re willing to put up with it for a minute while you get adjusted.
“Look at you.” Bokuto’s eyes rake up and down your trembling form, keeping time with his strong palms that rub soothing circles into the flesh of your hips. You shift a little, making him twitch and grunt. His thighs strain, struggling to keep from bucking upward against your tender cervix.
He lets out a deep, shaky sigh through pursed lips. “You’re so f-fucking perfect, you know that?”
You’re concentrating on tucking your knees underneath you for proper leverage, but he never fails to make you smile.
“I haven’t even started moving yet,” you breathe, bracing one hand on his shoulder. Once you’re stabilized, you lift your hips slowly forward, letting the thickness of him pull slowly from your slick depths. Bokuto’s head falls back against the pillows, beet red with exertion already.
“God,” he groans, bringing one hand around to your ass. “More, baby.”
You swallow hard, grip his hips tightly between your knees, and swirl your hips in a careful, tight little circle. It’s a subtle movement from the outside, but where you’re joined it rubs the thick ridge of his tip along all your tenderest nerve endings, sending powerful surges of pleasure vibrating into your chest.
Bokuto’s feeling it, too, the hard angles of his jaw standing out as he clenches his teeth. His silvery lashes rest heavily over his flushed cheeks, giving you little more than a bare peek of his dark, tawny eyes with the pupils blown wide in ecstasy.
“Just like that,” he prompts when you angle your hips forward, pinning your abused clit against his pubic bone and continuing to grind greedily over his shaft. He interrupts your rhythm with a sharp little pat to your ass, making your hips jump forward and giving him an opening to lower his chin and seal his mouth in the crook of your shoulder.
“Fu-uck,” you whine, looping both arms under his and clutching tightly at his back as your rhythm grows more urgent. You know how to work yourself to the peak easily, using his powerful body and thick cock to your every advantage.
“You’re close already,” he pants in your ear. “Oh, man, I can feel it. Don’t-“ His hips jerk backward, choking him on a surge of pleasure that washes over both of you.
“Don’t hold back for me, baby. I c’n… take it, yeah, that’s it.”
The low rumble of his voice in your ear reverberates all the way down to the pit of your stomach, cocktailing with the pleasure you’re grinding out yourself, and when he grabs your ass with both hands and rocks his tip against the gooey-sweet spot on your upper wall, you’re lost.
“Bo,” you whimper, grabbing tightly at the muscles in his back as your thighs start to shake. “Fuck, oh, fuck, ohfuck-“
The peak crests quietly between you, but quickly bleeds into every limb. You’re powerless to do anything but cling to him and whine in his ear as your hips stutter and twitch and grind over his stirring cock. Just when you think the wave is subsiding, Bokuto glides his hips beneath yours again and draws it out into a tight, near-painful shudder. Your vision whites out, then flashes black as you squeeze your eyes shut and lose yourself to the pleasure.
“Fuck.” Bo’s cursing as you come back to the surface, humping shallowly into your spent body. The lube you used squelches obscenely with the handfuls of slick your climax brought forth, numbing your used insides to his desperate thrusts. “Fuck, you’re so- you’re so- ohgod, inside, I-“
He goes completely incoherent as he finds his own pleasure, shoving his hips tightly against yours. His balls draw tight beneath you, thighs twitching as thick, heady warmth fills your belly. You’re addicted to the fullness he leaves in you without fail, the mess between you when he goes slack and you draw your hips backward to let his falling erection slide out of you.
Your roommate’ll be back from the library at any second. You should be getting up and dressing yourselves, making some attempt at feigning innocence before she comes in. But the bedroom door is closed and it’s far too easy to tumble back into the haphazard embrace from before, cum collecting sticky and hot between your thighs as Bokuto buries his face between your tits.
“D’you think they’ll stretch?” he mumbles into your skin, once your pulse has finally slowed to its regular pace.
“Hmm?” In your pleasure-addled haze, you don’t follow. Bokuto lifts his face from your flesh, resting his chin gently on your sternum.
“My shorts.”
Right.
“Uh-“ You have to purse your lips hard, to keep the dumb smile from showing on them. You take a slow pass of air in through your nose and lift your fingers to comb soothingly through his sweaty hair.
“We’ll make them fit,” you promise. “Somehow.”
Before he buries his face in your chest again, you catch the pure, blissed smile that stretches his cheeks. He slips his eyes shut, nuzzling you tenderly and kissing the swell of one breast.
“Good,” he sighs. And then, bare-assed, sweaty and sticky, he falls asleep.
You spy the shorts, still lying in a crumpled heap by the bathroom door. You make a mental note to check the brand and sizing later, before he leaves.
You’ll make then fit again.
Somehow.
367 notes · View notes
andypantsx3 · 7 months ago
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subtle | shouto todoroki/reader
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pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader
status: complete
length: 2,171 words
summary: Someone leaves chocolates on your desk. You're determined to track down the sender, certain it's a mistake, and Shouto Todoroki makes himself as unhelpful as possible.
tags: romance, reader-insert, fluff, valentine’s day
warnings: aged up characters (no smut though!!)
There was a box on your desk.
There was a box on your desk, and the sight of it was enough to instantly set you on edge.
The box looked normal enough, if a little fancy, maybe. Its lacquered top glinted brightly under the fluorescent office lighting, its smooth, polished sides waterfalling into the soft matte of your desktop underneath. You weren’t close enough to read the inscription, but you could just make out some elegant, curling script inlaid into the top of the box, possibly the name of whichever company had produced it.
The box looked very normal, in fact. Only, you knew it wasn’t. Boxes didn’t just show up in the middle of the Todoroki Hero Agency, a campus swimming with pros and armed with layers of security so deep it took even you--Shouto Todoroki’s manager--fifteen full minutes to get through screening every morning. It was something very much like being a prison guard at Tartarus.
So either this box meant the agency was dealing with a security breach the likes of which had scarcely been seen before, or someone had mistaken your desk for somebody else’s.
Which, considering it was Valentine’s Day, made a lot more sense.
Buoyed by the realization it wasn't a security risk, you crept closer, peering at the box, and the script resolved itself into the name of the extremely fancy chocolatier in Hiroo district that you made a point of drooling over every time you had to make a house call on Shouto. Their prices were literally insane, so you had never let yourself wander inside, unwilling to shell out an entire week’s pay for a tiny set of chocolates. Even if they did look absolutely fucking unbelievable from the window.
Your mouth watered.
That confirmed it--this was a Valentine's gift, and it was definitely a mistake. For the briefest of seconds, you’d wondered if maybe you had gotten obligatory office friendship chocolates, but this was too much. Some poor, love-sodden flop had gone out, spent their week’s pay on someone they were clearly very serious about, and then proceeded to fuck the entire thing up by plonking their gift straight onto your desk instead of their intended’s.
You frowned, quickly checking the box over for some kind of clue as to who had left it. There was no note included, nothing even mildly helpful that would give you the slightest hint of the person who'd left it here. Which left you with the question of how to return the box to the sender without knowing who they were, or how to pass it on to whoever they’d really meant it for.
You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, staring hard at the surface of the box like you could crack its code if only you glared hard enough. The box stared back at you, unhelpfully silent.
You were still skewering the box with your gaze some minutes later, determined to unravel its secrets, when a deep voice murmured from your doorway.
“You look puzzled."
You startled, whipping around to find Shouto propping up the wall, looking as unfairly handsome as usual. He was watching you intently, those heterochromatic eyes fastened to your face in that careful way he had, the one that always made you feel too warm and slightly unfocused. As usual, it was all you could do to remind yourself that you were a professional and he was something solidly between a friend and a coworker, and no matter how cute and attentive he was, you shouldn't get any ideas.
This morning, he was dressed in his hero uniform, tall and broad-shouldered, his distinctive hair only a little ruffled from his early patrol. It wasn’t often someone tried something in the districts he watched over anymore, probably too nervous to find themselves on the wrong end of the number four hero’s temper. You knew from the reports you received to your phone that the only trouble he’d encountered this morning was a pack of amorous school girls purposely misusing their quirks to draw his attention.
Thirty minutes ago, in fact, you’d almost spit out your coffee laughing at a photo of him looking wildly uncomfortable as he attempted to ice down some girl’s lava quirk with his right hand while fighting off her unfathomably enormous bouquet with his left. It was only right that he should suffer once a year, when every other day he got to stalk about as handsome as you please, oblivious to the effects his appearance had on every breathing person within a five mile radius.
You gave him an absent nod, gaze drawn back to the box on your desk.
“Somebody accidentally left something in here,” you told him, gesturing to it. “I’m trying to figure out how to track down who it was, or who it was meant for.”
Shouto made a small noise in the back of his throat, almost like a cough, and it was enough to startle you into looking up at him again.
“What?” you asked, peering at him. Was he coming down with something? It wasn't often he got sick, but when he did, he usually attempted to hide it and needed to be steamrolled into taking time off. You looked him over, trying to assess whether or not you needed to start badgering him now.
Shouto gazed back at you evenly, his expression deceptively bland. “...You think it’s not for you.”
You felt yourself blink at him, surprised by the comment and struggling to discern his meaning. What did he mean, you think it’s not for you? “Of course it’s not for me, Shouto, it’s from Grégoire Chardin.”
You knew he’d know the place, considering he lived in the same fancy rich people neighborhood as the chocolatier, but Shouto looked unimpressed.
“Why should that mean it’s not for you?” he asked, his tone dry.
The remark caught you off guard, as his comments sometimes did, and you bit down something like a smile. Bless his sweet, oblivious, rich boy heart. Either he overestimated your appeal to his agency staff, or he really did not understand the concepts of cost and return on investment.
“It’s expensive, it’s not something you would give someone as obligatory chocolates,” you explained, watching as a white eyebrow went up. His expression sharpened into something you couldn’t read well.
“It could be a secret admirer,” he said.
You stared blankly back at him, absolutely floored by the idea.
He thought you had a secret admirer? The idea sent an excited thrill all the way down to your toes, but you quickly squashed the feeling. So far, you'd never been on the receiving end of any furtive but romantic gestures, and you really didn't get any interested vibes from anyone in the office, no lingering glances or excuses to spend more time with you. The person who paid you the most amount of attention was Shouto, which was to be expected, considering how closely you worked together. And obviously he wasn't interested, he was just happy to stand in your doorway spouting wild conspiracies about his agency staffers like they were completely reasonable things to say.
“I don’t have a secret admirer,” you told him.
Shouto’s mouth pressed into a thin line and he took an intent step forward into your office. “Is the point of a secret admirer not to be exactly that--secret? How can you be sure?”
You couldn’t help it--you gaped at him, your face going weirdly warm. Okay, was he--was he serious? You obviously weren’t the most unfortunate creature on earth, and you even had your good days, but nobody in their right mind was going to attempt anything with you when there were girls like Nejire Hado and Ibara Shiozaki roaming the hallways of his agency. Even several of the analysts and most of the support crew had you beat out in terms of appeal--literally bless this man for his obvious indifference to your appearance.
“I, uh--thanks for your confidence in me,” you said, fighting down a laugh. “But I assure you, it definitely wasn’t meant for me. I just have to figure out who left it and who they meant it for.”
Shouto shifted impatiently, like he was waiting for something.
“You’re so certain,” he said, sounding frustrated.
“Of course I am,” you waved at him vaguely. It was actually super cute that he thought you could net yourself a dude who was willing to shell out Grégoire Chardin dollars, but you were just wasting time now, lingering over the least important part of this entire affair. “Listen, Shouto. I know sometimes men talk in the locker rooms. If you--if you hear anything, will you let me know? I just want to return it, it looks way too good sitting here.”
It was actually taking all your willpower not to open it and avail yourself of Japan’s finest chocolate, considering you would never have another opportunity like this again. Maybe you should just pretend it was for you....Really, no one could fault you for opening something left in your own office. But...no. No, you knew better.
Shouto appeared indifferent to your internal struggle. He watched you for a long moment, his features impassive. “Under one condition,” he finally allowed.
You cocked an ear to show you were listening, rifling around with the paperwork on your desk to distract yourself from the chocolate. You were strong, a good person. You had willpower like steel. You did not need to eat it, no no no.
“If no one comes looking for it by the end of the day, you will open it,” he said, moving closer.
You glanced up at him, shocked. “Shouto, this is someone else’s gift,” you hissed. “I can’t just open it.”
He placed a large palm down on your desk, leaning over you slightly. “That is my bargain.”
“You want me to steal somebody’s shit in your own agency,” you accused him. You tried not to pay attention to how close he had gotten, how straight his nose was up close, the way his eyes seemed brighter and his mouth pulled into a pout almost too pretty for a man.
The rest of his expression slipped into something like annoyance, matching his pout. “If no one comes for it, then it must be evident that it was meant for you.”
You suppressed a derisive laugh. Now was not the time to get shirty with your own boss, especially when his delusions were kind of sweet. It was honestly just short of a miracle that a man who looked like Shouto did could possibly think anyone on earth would have a thing for you, regardless of his own tastes.
“What if they’re just too shy to ask for it back?” you asked, watching those heterochromatic eyes flick over you curiously.
“If it’s as expensive as you say, someone will come looking,” he said. Which was actually kind of annoyingly reasonable.
A smirk flitted across his maddeningly perfect face when you failed to come up with another argument. He had a point, and he knew it.
You let out a gusty sigh. “Fine, but only because I’m certain someone will come looking for it. Please be subtle when you’re gathering info, okay? I'm sure this is embarrassing for whoever made this mistake.”
Shouto looked almost offended. “I am perfectly capable of being subtle,” he intoned in his deep voice.
This time, you did laugh. He was quiet, maybe, very perceptive, and unobtrusive when he wanted to be, but no one had ever accused the man of possessing tact. “Yeah, okay. Just, try to channel more subtlety than you think you need, okay? No one else but the sender needs to know about the mix up.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Shouto was leaning over you more fully, eyes glittering strangely as his clean, fresh scent met your nose. You froze in your chair, brain going horrifyingly vacant as he leaned impossibly nearer. What the fuck was he doing?
“It will be like I’m not even asking,” Shouto promised, his voice light. “Not asking anyone at all.”
You tried to scrape your thoughts back into something resembling order, but the effort was all but futile. You needed to get him out of your space stat before you embarrassed yourself.
”Okay, then it’s a deal,” you said quickly. “Now go...flambé a villain or something.”
Shouto lingered for a long moment, his mouth curling a little at the corner, like he was being let in on a secret you couldn’t hear. His eyes brushed over you, almost like a physical touch. And then he was gone, pulling open the door to your office, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.
“You will see,” he said by way of farewell. “You will find out how subtle I can be.”
You stared at him in confusion, but he didn’t explain himself. He just smirked, and closed the door behind himself.
741 notes · View notes
tangerinesdream · 5 months ago
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𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 —
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pairing: zoro x gn!reader
synopsis: friends with benefits who’re oblivious to each other’s feelings
warnings: a lil angst, cursing, mentions of sex, underlying wano spoilers
wc: ~1.5k
notes: hey y’all, i still have some requests but god this scenario has been on replay in my mind. I originally intended for reader to be fem, but i don’t think i actually used any female-identifying terms? if you do catch any tho, please point it out!
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Being a part of the Straw Hats meant getting separated for periods of time, especially during battles (which was like meat to Luffy.) This time though was the longest you’ve been away from Zoro since the two year break. You stayed with Luffy to retrieve one idiot cook, but now you finally arrived in Wano, and you’d finally see your swordsman.
Well, he wasn’t your swordsman, not officially anyways.
It started in Sabaody, you were the second to arrive, and it didn’t take you long to find his familiar mossy hair. He got a little taller, earned a scar over his eye, wore a yukata, but you could tell his muscles grew from whatever intensive training he’d gone through over the past two years. If you had a tiny crush on him before, your attraction—and lust—him only increased. Even with his slight personality change, which was a little more intense, a little more cocky.
It was so. Sexy.
A quick chat and a few drinks later, your legs were wrapped around his waist, lips devoured, tongues tangled make out. His hand never stopped groping, squeezing, memorizing every inch of your body like he was seeing it for the first time.
That night was the first of many shared nights. You didn’t sleep with him often, not with how fast-paced and chaotic the New World was. But during the calm after a battle, when everyone would be feasting and partying, the two of you would share a look. He could be at your side, or on the other side of the crowd, and you would still be able to meet his eye; half-lidded and full of pent-up energy in the shape of lust that sent chills through your skin and wetness to your core.
God, did he even know what he was doing to you?
And sometime in between, you fell in love. Actual heart-breaking love.
The fact that you had usually sex after both of your lives were on the line didn’t help. It was more intense that way; more intimate. One hand would tightly grip your hip, pulling you down as he thrust up into you; the other roughly cupping your jaw, forcing you to lock gazes with him.
“Don’t you dare take your eyes off of me.”
And then he’d leave you with these fluffy, weak, aggravating feelings that he didn’t seem to reciprocate.
It wasn’t fair.
That’s why you chose to stay behind with Luffy. You needed a break from him, some time to think over what your feelings really were: love, or some twisted vivid form of lust.
But dammit if your heart didn’t yearn for him.
Now that you were in Wano, you planned to confess. If he also had feelings for you, great! But, if he didn’t…
Well, you didn’t want to think of that!
But your confidence sunk with each passing day. So much was happening it felt like you spent years in Wano before actually seeing him. When you finally did see him, he was running with an impossibly gorgeous woman clinging to him.
Brook was there too, and he was more than eager to spill the tea about seeing Zoro and this Hiyori girl sleeping together.
“Oh.”
Brook didn’t know about you and Zoro. It wasn’t necessarily a secret, but the two of you didn’t exactly flaunt your relationship, or make the effort to tell anyone. Should you have? If the two of you were public and official, would another woman be in his arms? Probably so. Zoro followed a certain code of morality (a.k.a being brutally honest,) if he had feelings, he would’ve been honest about them by now.
Right?
Well the answer was clear as day: his attention was elsewhere and you were, alone, overthinking in one of the many screwed up countries of the New World.
It didn’t help that she was nice. And pretty. Actually, she was gorgeous. And so compassionate. She tended to his wounds, and took care of him, and she was kind to everyone she met. She was everything he needed, while the best you could do was give him your body. Why wouldn’t he choose her?
~
Zoro may have been oblivious to your feelings, but he knew something was up. Normally, your eyes would be on him then he’d look up, catching the smile you sent his way. He missed sitting next to you for dinner, holding your thigh while you delicately traced the lines of his hand. Or when he’d just listen to you ramble. You always talked with so much fervor and enthusiasm, there was a certain smile at your lips, a kind of gleam in your eyes, and honestly?
He missed the sound of your voice.
So when you didn’t spare him a single glance, when you were quieter than usual, when you were going out of your way to ignore him?
That fucking hurt.
You were talking to Usopp, but he didn’t care. He just took your wrist, grunting out a gruff, “We need to talk.” You protested but he kept pulling you until you were behind the house you were in.
You finally pulled your wrist free, “Zoro what the hell—“
“No you what the hell (name). What’s your problem?” Straight to the point. He was pissed, and all he wanted was you. He needed you to get over whatever it was that was making act distant, so he needed answers immediately.
“I don’t think we should have sex anymore.”
But he wasn’t expecting that.
You must’ve seen a hundred emotions play in his eyes. Mostly anger, frustration, hurt. Yeah, he looked hurt, more so than you imagined. He shook his head, looking at you with disbelief and brows deeply furrowed, more so than usual, “What?”
You bit the inside of your cheek. Why did you say that? Take it back. Tell him you missed him. Tell you’re so stupidly in love past the point of no-return.
But instead you began, “We haven’t seen each other in a while, and—“
“Because you chose to save that pervert shit head.”
“Can I say my piece?” and he let you, silently waiting for you to explain, “I just… I know my worth, and I’m not just going to wait around and be an easy fuck whenever it’s convenient for you.”
Is that what you thought? He looked offended, “Do you seriously believe I’m using you like that?”
Your heart quickened as your pout deepend, “Don’t patronize me Zoro. I see how you let that girl cling to you, and how you’re so eager to protect her. I don’t care if you’ve caught feelings for her or what, but I don't want to wait around just to be another body to your count.”
“So this is about Hiyori. What do you expect of me? If you haven’t noticed, people are trying to kill her and she can’t fight for herself. Quit being childish and jealous.”
Now you were pissed, and physically nauseous, and all you wanted to do was throw something at him but all you had were your bitter words, “I know you slept with her asshole.”
A wave of shock washed over his face before he put the pieces together, “Brook.”
“Yeah, Brook,” you felt the stinging sensation in your eyes, you didn’t want to cry. Not in front of Zoro, not for Zoro. But as soon as you turned he caught your wrist, but you stayed facing away from him.
“She crawled next to me when I was already asleep, without my permission, but that’s all that happened— just sleep, no sex.”
By the absoluteness in his tone, you knew it was the truth. He has no reason to lie, but that didn’t stop the thoughts of them together from corrupting your mind. Still faced away from him, with slow tears finding their way to the ground, “Does she mean something to you?”
“Not like you do.”
“Look at me,” He turned you to him, cupping your face in his large, calloused hands, thumbing the tears off of your soft, moonlit features.
He wanted to say it, the feelings that he felt long before Sabaody. The words that played at the edge of his lips whenever his mind clouded with bliss, buried cock deep as you squeezed so perfectly around him, for him. The amount of times he wanted to tell you what you truly meant to him always overshadowed the doubts of you leaving if he ever let his feelings known. Though, he thought you had to have known. He thought it was obvious in his actions, but you clearly had no clue. Zoro needed you to know exactly what he felt for you, but words were tricky. So he confessed in the way he knew best.
He kissed you, not in the fast, heated way before he claimed you. It was slow, deep, he imprinted the taste of his tongue on yours.
When you parted, you laughed, but it came out as a sob, allowing yourself the full cry your body so painfully yearned.
“Ah jeez,” he wiped away the new tears, but they didn’t relent, “Why are you crying?”
“Cause, stupid swordsman, I—“
Tell him.
“I love you.”
His eyes snapped to yours.
“Say that again.”
“Stupid swordsman.”
He pouted, “Not that—“
“I love you.”
He moved against your lips with more fervor and urgency, translating the hidden words he felt so deeply in his being, holding you as close he possibly could.
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pride-cat · 2 months ago
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nah idc, unless you have any tags of this post muted for your own well-being, you’re gonna listen to me for a bit cause i’m fuckin tired and furious /srs
reblogs would be much appreciated - i don’t wanna ask this a lot and it’s definitely not urgent rn but i want to get this out there and i want to be fucking listened to about this for once since i don’t tend to be given that kind of time :/
people who are harassing and dogpiling op saying that “cis people can’t be deadnamed” as a “gatcha now i’m gonna keep using his real name” are COMPLETELY MISSING THE POINT.
No, cis people cannot be deadnamed. YES, cis people can have FUCKING BOUNDARIES ON THE INTERNET and ask you to not call them by their real name - even if they’re a popular (or not so much ig) influencer. i’m trans (nb), by the way, and i go by a chosen name, so don’t fucking go there with me.
the fact that the post says in quotes, “it STILL has that core idea that people are only deserving of respect and basic human decency up until they do something you don’t like, they step out of line, or say something wrong,” and people flame this post for saying that?? PROVES THEIR POINT HELLO??
and also: “if i said as much on twitter i bet someone would say something like ‘it’s transphobic to compare deadnaming a trans person to using the wrong name for a cis person’ as if there’s transphobia in saying that disrespecting ANY person’s identity is shitty as fuck.” YOU FOOLS. YOU FUCKING FOOLS. YOU ARE DOING EXACTLY WHAT OP DESCRIBED. MAKING FUN OF CISHETS FOR THEIR PRIVILEGE IS FINE BUT THEY STILL HAVE A GODDAMN RIGHT TO THEIR OWN IDENTITIES AND SENSIBLE, FOLLOWABLE UNPROBLEMATIC BOUNDARIES. MY GOD. THESE PEOPLE HAVE NO CLUE HOW UTTERLY BRAINLESS THEY LOOK TO ANY OUTSIDER WITH COMMON SENSE IT’S INSANE.
i think it’s fucking hilarious (/s) that these people will still use someone’s correct pronouns when a twitter stan just like them hypothetically doxxes a decent person or is even fucking disgusting towards minors, and will call them by only what they wish to be called if they know of another name that they do not. but when someone like technoblade does nothing wrong and refuses to apologize for doing nothing wrong (as he should lol) and twitter twists his words to make them seem wrong and to make said words speak louder than actions (if that sounds wrong because you’re used to hearing it the other way around, GOOD.), he doesn’t deserve to be called techno anymore instead of his real name?? and it’s definitely not just because he’s cis either, it’s simply because they don’t like him and want him gone lol.
this is what i got cancelled off of twitter 2.5 months ago for saying. it’s mind-blowing and hilarious in an infuriating way. so no, i’ll never say sorry for supporting technoblade and i’ll never say sorry if the way i defend him pisses severely-deranged motherfuckers off. get a fucking life, he’s never gonna stop thriving and making a fuck ton of money and making people genuinely laugh just because you don’t get enough attention on twitter dot com. fuck off. i hate y’all more than most people and i have a lotta groups of people to hate.
(i couldn’t find the original post btw, otherwise i would’ve linked it right here)
EDIT: X
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maemelany · 6 months ago
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Fixing the Broken (Part 4)
Summary: People say that time heals all wounds. In your case, time made it worse.
You’ve been married to Chris for five years, but his absence spoke louder than his words. After 5 years of trying, you’ve decided that you’ve had enough, and you left him. But Chris doesn’t want to let you go; he doesn’t want to give up on your marriage.
Would he be able to fix what you consider irretrievably broken?
Warnings: Angst, always Angst, toooones of Angst
Word Count: 2k
Pairing : Chris Evans x Reader
A/N / disclaimer : Part 4 is here! So, this is the first therapy session, and because I’m not a therapist and I have no clue how it works IRL, I had to do some research (Google and YouTube are my best allies). Please remember this is fiction, and it doesn’t reflect in any way how a real couple’s therapy session would go.
Let me know what you think about it in the comments. And let me know if you want me to add you to the Tag List.
Thank you so much, @shinykoalacat​​, for showing me Tolerate it by Taylor Swift. I listened to it while I wrote this part.
Love x Mae❤️
Masterlist 
Prologue ,Part 1, Part 2 ,  Part 3  Part 5 
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While you were out building other worlds, where was I?
-Taylor Swift
You were not going to be the first one to talk. You kept your hands crossed, watching the clock opposite to the couch on which you were seated. Chris was doing something similar, watching his phone from time to time.
You thought that counselling would be a lot of things, but quiet wasn’t part of your assumptions.
“Aren’t we supposed to talk or scream at each other or… I don’t know” Chris finally asked.
“Therapy isn’t about screaming. However, sometimes you will feel the need to.” the therapist said with a warm smile on her face.
She seemed very nice. Alicia, as she asked you to call her, had to be in her late forties, and her big frame glasses put the focus on her brown eyes.  
When you met her a few minutes ago, she asked you to get comfortable, but you couldn’t. Chris tapping his foot wasn’t helping either. A week ago, when you asked Chris to choose the therapist, it seemed like a good idea. Now, not so much. You hated not being in control. And you knew that Chris didn’t know her either. When you asked him where he found her, he said that she had been referred to him by one of his good friends.
“Do you feel like you need to scream, Chris?” Alicia asked
Chris frowned “No, I don’t”
“And you, Y/N?”
Oh yes. You wanted to scream at Chris for so many reasons, but you weren’t going to ridicule yourself. You wanted Chris to realize his mistakes. It was all about him, not you.
You shook your head. “I don’t want to scream”
“What do you want, then?” Alicia asked
It took you a few seconds to realize that Alicia was asking you the question, “Me? oh hmm…”
You didn’t know how to answer the question. You wanted your husband by your side, and you wanted to fix things. You wanted your husband to love you and choose you. But you couldn’t say that without sounding selfish. If Chris chose to be far, it meant that he wanted to be far. You didn’t want to force his hand and forced him to stay married to you. Therapy was supposed to be an eye-opening experience for him. You wanted him to admit to you and himself that he didn’t want this marriage. If something had to be saved, he first had to be honest.
“You’re thinking too much, Y/N. There’s no wrong answer” Alicia encouraged you.
“She wants a divorce” Chris answered for you.
You rolled your eyes. It was as if Chris was pushing your buttons on purpose. “Since my husband here seems to know everything, why doesn’t he tell you why I want a divorce?” you said, still not looking at Chris.
“The thing is I don’t know why she wants a divorce”
You gave a bitter laugh. “Oh, he knows. He knows what he did”
Alicia looked at the both of you as if she was waiting for more.
“From what I see, there’s a lot of resentment” she finally said
You chuckled. That was the understatement of the year. Your anger hadn’t left you since your last argument with Chris when you forced him to come to therapy with you. It was as if all your pain and sadness turned into this ugly feeling that was anger.
“Since we’ve started this session, you haven’t addressed each other,” Alicia said. “what I want you to do from now on is look at each other and have the same conversation you just had. Talk to each other, forget I’m here”
You vehemently turned to face your husband. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. It was hard to say all the things you just said to his face.
“Why do you want a divorce?” Chris whispered
You realized that you didn’t give him an answer the last time he asked you that question. Not a constructive one, at least. You just said that you had to.
You cleared your throat. “I want a divorce because that’s what you want” you finally said
Chris’s eyes grew bigger. He looked at you as if you had a third eye on your forehead. “I what now?”
Incredulousness was written all over Chris’s face. He looked as if he’d been hit by a train. You bit your lip again and looked at Alicia for help. You hated confrontations. Couples therapy was definitely nothing like you expected it to be.
“Do you want a divorce, Chris?” Alicia finally asked
“No! I love her…” he started but then remembered Alicia’s instruction and faced you again. “I love you. I don’t want a divorce”
Tears started to fill your eyes. You hated feeling that way. “Yes, you do! You’re never here. You have a whole other life I’m not part of”
Chris looked at you tenderly. “Baby, it’s work, it’s not my life. I swear to you I don’t want a divorce”
Instead of calming you, his word only made things worst. “Don’t bullshit me. Your work is your life, Chris. And if you haven’t noticed that, then it’s worse than I thought”
You turned back to Alicia. “He doesn’t want to see it, but it’s true. I’m not irrational or selfish as he seems to think”
Alicia smiled. “Remember, Y/N, you’re talking to Chris”
You turned back to Chris and met his eyes. “I’m not irrational or selfish as you think”
Chris breathed heavily. “I said I was sorry, Y/N. You’re not selfish”
You crossed your arms in front of you, letting the angry tears silently running down your face.
“I was angry when I said that Y/N. You’re not selfish, you’re the most generous person I know” Chris said
You gave him a dry laugh. “You see, Chris, your words are so confusing, and your actions never match your big speeches. You tell strangers that you love me more than you say it to me. You say you don’t want a divorce, but you’re never with me. You say I’m the most generous person you know, but you called me selfish a week ago”
Chris closed his eyes. “I said I didn’t mean it” He repeated under his breath.
“Well, I don’t believe you! “You screamed.
A deadly silence followed your statement. You just did what you wanted to avoid. You screamed. You made it about you when it was all about Chris and his absence.
“You would have saved yourself some pain if you had admitted to yourself you needed to scream when I asked you, Y/N” Alicia said, a warm smile on her face.
You weren’t sure if you liked her or hated her. One thing was for sure, your therapist was right. You knew you wanted to scream at Chris when she asked you, but you said no, only to find yourself screaming at him minutes later.
“Did you know Y/N was feeling that way, Chris?”
When Chris shook his head, you rolled your eyes. “I told you I felt left out” You said
His eyes widened. “When? I think I’d remember my wife telling me something like that” Chris replied
“I told you I was alone in the house way too often” You argued.
Chris looked at you with his eyes growing even bigger. “You told me that the house was too big for one person” Chris rectified.
“What do you think I meant by that?” you asked him, the frustration rising.
“I don’t know, maybe that you wanted us to move into something smaller?”
“How can you be so… obtuse!” You screamed again
This counselling session was clearly not going the way you expected.
“Do you feel better now?” The therapist asked
You shook your head unwillingly. Chris did the same.
“You’re not feeling better because instead of solving the problems together, you keep blaming each other”
You opened your mouth, ready to defend yourself, when you realized Alicia was right.
Alicia smiled at you two. “You’re supposed to be a team. If you want this to work, you’re going to have to start working together instead of against each other”
You frowned. Chris had to work on himself. You didn’t know what you did wrong. Alicia seemed to notice your expression and focused on you.
“Y/N, you have a lot of resentment against your husband, and you feel like he doesn’t hear you” Alicia started.
You nodded. That was a pretty accurate summary.
“But you weren’t exactly clear about your expectations. When you say that the house is too big, instead of saying you feel alone, you’re being evasive, and you leave room for interpretation. You cannot get angry at Chris for interpreting what seems obvious to you differently. You are married, but you don’t share the same mind”
You had to face it; Alicia was right. You never explicitly asked Chris to slow down on work; you just thought it would be the case after a few years.
“And Chris, you need to reflect on your actions and how they made Y/N feel. She said she doesn’t feel like your actions match your words. You need to think about that. You may not want a divorce, but denying your part of responsibility in the matter will not solve things”
Your decision was made. You liked the therapist. When you started the session, and she remained silent, you wondered if Chris wasn’t playing with you and hired an actor to act like a therapist. Now that she was calling you two out, you were confident she was a real therapist. It took her less than an hour to put into words what took you years.
“One last thing. Chris mentioned that you’re not living in the same house right now” Alicia asked.
You nodded.
“Good. I’m going to ask you to remain in separate places for now,” Your therapist said
Chris frowned. “I don’t think so”
“I understand your frustration, but this process takes time.”
Chris didn’t protest more, but you could see he disagreed with the therapist’s request. You didn’t know how you felt about it. One part of you wanted to go home and be closer to Chris, but the other part, the more rational one, knew that things were too fragile now for you two to be under the same roof.
“I want you to put yourself in Y/N’s shoes during this week, Chris. You’re going to be alone in the house while Y/N will be doing her thing”
Your thing? You didn’t know what Alicia was talking about. If she thought you were going to restaurants or drinking fancy cocktails with your friends, she couldn’t be more wrong. Your days consisted of work and watching sad romantic movies on Netflix and every other streaming service available. Even in normal times, when you weren’t dealing with a potential divorce and the biggest heartbreak ever, your life was pretty dull. You worked from home because you had the option to, and you saw your friends from time to time. That was it.
“What do you mean, my thing?” you finally asked.
Alicia smiled at you. “That’s what I want you to find out, Y/N. Chris has his thing, work. I want you to do your thing. It may be work too, or yoga, or whatever brings you joy. And if you don’t know what it is, then I want you to try to find out”
You took some time to think about what Alicia just said. Did you know what your thing was? When Alicia announced the end of the session, you were shocked that it had already been an hour.
You took your bag, wanting to leave as soon as possible. You didn’t want to talk to Chris without Alicia because you knew it wasn’t going to end well. You may be aware that you two tended to argue with each other instead of having constructive discussions, but that didn’t mean you were ready to change that—both of you.
When Alicia asked Chris to stay a few more minutes to fill some forms since he was the one paying for the sessions, you took it as your chance to run away.
You didn’t have time to lose; you had to find your thing after all. 
Tag List ( let me know if you want to be added): 
@jennamarieee623  @jessyballet  @spookyparadisesheep  @coffeebooksandfandom  @janeyboo  @calirindo  @killerstvles  @patzammit​  @inlovewith3​​   @90girlgolden​ @katelyneann​ @breezykpop​  @n3ssm0nique​  @mary-on08​  @anthonyjanthony666​ @dangerouslovefanfic @positionsfyou @ragamuffin285 @sohoseb @chloehn @beautifulrare4leafclover @evatia @jennmurawski13 @melaninromantic @saltyflowermakertaco @chris-butt  @badb1tch05 @memoriesat30 @marvelfansworld​ @lady-x-red​ @thumbeliina​ @allwaysadoll​ @beautiful--blessing​ @shamelessfangirl-3​ @xxneetu​ @shinykoalacat​ @goldenrogers​ 
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absurdthirst · 7 months ago
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The Night
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F!Reader
Comments: Part of the Quarantine AU - Marcus Moreno ‘verse
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He couldn’t fucking believe his luck. Finally, FINALLY got the balls to say something to you. Admit that his attraction to you and his feelings for you were growing to an almost overwhelming level and this happened.
Sometimes he wondered if all the luck he had was used up in his professional life the last few years. Nothing had been going right personally for him unless he counted his amazing daughter.
It started off as a normal night. The two of you arguing over what to watch. Missy had decided that watching tv with her dad and you was not how she wanted to spend her evening, so she was in her room. You were not arguing per say, more like good natured bickering and teasing.
You always enjoyed needling him about watching things that he was in, the newsreels and stories. There was even an OnDemand section where you could watch all the Heroics battles. Claiming that it was amazing that someone who had watched so much news hated to watch his own press. He wasn’t like the others, he didn’t care for the attention.
What wasn’t normal was the fact that you had apparently been drinking. He didn’t have a clue, thinking you were drinking a soda. Steadily sucking on a straw while you settled down to a movie marathon of Tremors movies.
“No! Three does not count. Back to Perfection is clearly a lame attempt to capitalize on the success of the original movie. It only had one of the original characters!” You argued.
“And how about 4? It’s a prequel. You mean to tell me that there were no town rumors about big ass desert slugs that came up out of the dirt to eat people?” Marcus argued, laughing at you when you stick your tongue out at him.
“Did you see that town in the original movie? It was D. E. A. D. Dead. The town slut was probably also the gas station attendant and the waitress at the only diner.” You snort, stifling your laughter as you try not to choke on your drink.
He choked on his own drink at that retort. “Okay fair point, judgy. Shut up and watch. We’re gonna watch them ALL! Muwhahaha!” He faked an evil laugh and grinned as you elbow him in the ribs. This was a light, fun feeling that he never wanted to miss out on again.
You were settled on his couch, like normal. It wasn’t unusual to have the two of you close, but it seemed like every time that you got up to go to the bathroom or get another drink, you would sit just a bit closer to him. Your legs are pulled up against your body as you lean in towards the throw pillow between you.
He felt the air shift, but didn’t know if it was his own desires projecting or reality. At least until you move the pillow out of the way and tuck into his side, pulling your blanket over him to share. He wasn’t going to argue, adjusting his arm until it was around you comfortably.
Only problem was where your own damn arm is draped. You are rubbing against his crotch and all the prayers in the world weren’t working. He is starting to get hard under your seemingly innocent movements.
You start snickering, but nothing funny was happening in the movie. You were being a little shit, knowing exactly what you were doing. His hips shift, trying to move away discreetly. Instead he felt your arm follow him.
“Fuck.” He mutters under his breath.
“Hmmm?” He knew he had to be imagining the coy tone of a damn hum. It was like you were fucking with him, seeing how much he could take until he got down on his fucking knees and begged.
“Dammit. You asked for it.” Marcus lunges at you, making you squeal in surprise as he pins you back on the couch. You have a grin on your gorgeous face and he can’t help himself. He leans down to kiss you, his erection pressing heavily against your thigh.
Right before your lips touch he smells it. The liquor on your breath is heavy since you were breathing rapidly. He jerks back and watches your eyes closely. The sheen of intoxication making them glassy.
“Shit!”
He scrambles off of you like he had been burned. He wants you. Fuck, he wants you bad. But no fucking way anything was going to happen while you are drunk. It would be different if you were already together and had both been drinking. But you aren’t and you haven’t been. And he wasn’t going to risk fucking things up by taking advantage. It wouldn’t be right and went against everything he believed in.
“I have to take a piss.” He mutters as he gets to his feet and rushes upstairs to his bathroom.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He scowles as he paces around the bathroom. He had already decided that he was going to talk to you today. Find out where you stood on this…thing that was between you. Lord knows he knew you at least wanted him, after listening to the phone call with your mother.
He gives a self deprecating chuckle as he looks at his reflection in the mirror. It seemed as though the universe was conspiring against him. Ready to take the leap and you chose that night, out of the entire week to get shit-faced.
Closing his eyes and sighing, he turns on the faucet and splashes water on his face. He stays in there a few more minutes before coming back out, waiting for the hard on he was sporting to go away.
It was getting worse. He woke up hard and went to bed hard. Didn’t matter how many times he ‘took care of it’, it seems like he is a 16 year old boy again. He knew it had everything to do with the woman on his couch and not some mid-life crisis. If you hadn’t been drinking, he knew that he probably would have stripped you down on that couch. Not even considering that he had a daughter in the house.
Marcus shakes his head as he walks out of his bathroom, ready to deal with the potentially awkward conversation. He huffs, slightly annoyed as he stops in the middle of the room. You were asleep, curled up on the couch and snoring lightly. The tv still playing the credits for Tremors 2 as he walks over to cover you up a little better.
Sleeping alone again was better than fucking up. He rolls his eyes as he turns off the tv and walks back to his room. Another cold shower was in his future, but it would be interesting to see what you had to say tomorrow.
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Quarantine AU:
@softsliders29​ @justpedropascal​
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binniesthighs · 5 months ago
Text
coax the cold | reader x chan
Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan 
Genre: smut, lil bit of fluff 
Tags: softsub!chan, softdom!reader, virgin!chan, shyyyy!chan, lowkey awkward chan hehe, tinder hookup au, college au (very US college haha--or at least how I know it), guided sex, cowgirl, reader has nipple piercings sooo nipple play (my new kink) , hair pulling, use of petnames, praising, protected sex, fingering (f), someone’s impatient ;) 
Word count: 4.2k 
Recommended listening: bite by troye sivan 
*photocreds to OP! 
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[02:05] 
you are messaging: chan 
me: i’m here by the bike locks? is this the right place? i don’t see a door anywhere? 
Buzzing above your head, a streetlight flickered from the erratic flying of moths to the addictive yellow glow. You were never really a squeamish person, but when it came to moths, there was only so much that you could take in the uncomfortable silence of the parking lot. 
A group of girls with their cropped shorts and bralettes came barreling out from a pair of doors farther down the building with music screeching from the phone speakers shoved in their tiny pockets. 
“You’ve got the addy right? You didn’t hear anything about it getting shut down? Becs was telling me that they were doing ratios so it looks like we can’t bring the guys--” 
You tapped on your phone screen to see if you had received a reply or if the little flame icon would flash while you watched the minutes tick by. 
You had a little shame about the position that you were in, and you started to care less and less after seeing this guy’s pictures. He was somewhat illusive from what you could tell. The way that he texted in all lowercase made him seem approachable but he still wasn’t one ask for pictures of your tits or send the odd drunk text asking for you to come over. 
You had send the message at this hour. It was likely that you were impatient from “playing the game” but he seemed intriguing enough. 
The Friday night was filled with energy from the other side of the street across from the apartment complex. His place was situated right on the edge of campus next to a couple run down houses with windows lit by multicolored string lights and creaking doors which let out vibrating trap songs every time someone opened them. You had left a house similar to that before coming here right when it was getting boring and the boys were getting a bit handsier than you would’ve liked. You were done making out with randoms in hallways who tasted like watery beer and bad decisions. 
“Um, hey!  Are you y/n?” The stranger’s voice called from a fire escape door. 
He was dressed simply, sort of like someone who didn’t care, or someone who hadn’t left their room since the morning. In this lighting, his hair seemed to be some kind of dark burgundy brown which was a bit different from his caramel blonde hair from the photos. You would’ve felt lied to on another occasion, but the simple trait wasn’t a game changer. 
“Uh-yeah, that's me.” You smiled bluntly, not really sure even what to say in a situation like this. 
Up close you saw what the pictures really didn’t give him justice: a faint press of dimples and stretching veins on his hands. You assumed that he was a bit smaller under the giant black hoodie that he wore, but he had that same kind of coziness that was just a little too dangerous for a hookup. 
“I live on the third floor.” He informed you while leading up the hollow sounding cement staircase. 
“Mm. Okay.” 
The stranger turned his head briefly to smile back at you, “I-Its nice to meet you.” 
“Nice to meet you too.” You nodded, even though he didn’t see. 
This young man’s room was nearly exactly as you had pictured it to be element by element. Like every other boy his age, he had a gaming set up with color changing LEDs on the side of his machine and a smaller TV that was hooked up to some console you didn’t care to know the name of. The floors were nearly clean and the bed made--almost like he had planned for it to be that way; you could see the dirty clothes peeping from under his bed. 
The banged up beige walls were decorated with posters of indie bands that you had heard of once or twice. He had somewhat of an organized open closet that held types of CDs and vinyl too--the room itself smelled a bit dusty like the protective covers of those albums that you associated with a record store. 
“You can...we can sit down if you’d like.” He rather awkwardly gestured to his full sized bed. You prayed that once you pulled the covers back later there would be no white stains. 
“Okay.” 
“I could-um, turn on some music maybe? If you would like?” 
“Sure!” You piped trying to sound as confident and in control as possible--it was clear he wasn’t. 
He fidgeted with his phone and a bluetooth speaker which startled him when he turned it on. Just like the posters on his walls, he picked some soft sounding acoustic song with a crooning folk singer that sounded like he was singing with the exclusive use of his head voice. 
The stranger sat next to you clasping his hands in front of him and eyes glued to the floor. 
“Sorry...this is my first time doing this.” 
“Doing...?” 
He smoothed back his dark locks, “You know...meeting up with someone like this after meeting through an app. Um...what do you study?” 
“Biochem with a graphic design minor. You?” 
You weren’t sure if this was a hook up or an interview. 
“Poli Sci Human Rights stuff and sound engineering on the side.” 
“Huh...thats...cool.” 
Both of you nodded your heads in the silence to which he cleared his throat loudly to feel the space. 
“C-can I get you anything? You thirsty or something? I can steal some of my roommate’s Smirnoff Ice--” 
“--No. I’m fine. Thank you though.” 
He smiled sweetly to hid the fact that he was rubbing his sweating hands against his pants. 
“But...how this usually starts off, you could lay down and maybe, I could get on top?” 
“Oh!” He squeaked, “Sure! I can do that.” 
The bed groaned out with the shuffling of bodies and your hookup sighed out with a shaky breath and squirming legs. “Like this?” 
Rather than saying more, you crawled carefully over to him to the tune of his quickening chest and widened eyes. The shier he got, the harder it was for you to keep it in--he was ridiculously cute and your mind could only run wilder thinking about how he would react to everything you were about to show him. Your hands crept to the hem of his hoodie where you teased cold thumbs to his torso. 
“I’m gonna take this off you, okay?” 
Chan nodded eagerly with hair fluffing once you pulled it over his head. 
“Take mine off?” You hushed into his ear to which he smacked dry lips to obey you. 
He took his time pulling it off you; he savored the way that your bare body looked in front of him with glossy eyes that shone with the soft pastel glow from his computer in the opposite corner of his room. His chest heaved with his excitement which only held even more shallow breaths once your top hit the floor. 
“I-I can touch you?” 
“You can touch me anywhere you want to, baby.” You followed his head back to the pillow where you parted his quivering lips with your own. You could feel his shock get caught in his throat, then snake out hotly from his mouth to yours. He kissed you carefully, but growing in greed once you ran the tip of your tongue over his bottom lip. His curious hands wrapped around your back where he rubbed lightly at your sides, then traversed to your chest. You sunk deeper onto him to the tune of the music skipping to the next song which sounded nearly like a chilled out pairing of twangy guitars. As far as you could tell, it sounded something like Grateful Dead. 
As your hips melded into his, Chan’s whole body jerked feeling the sudden contact of your pussy grind against him. As you had expected, he had hardened instantly, and his length bobbed and tented the thick fabric of his sweats. You kissed him deeper, exploring the corners of his mouth and the inside of his lower lip while tugged at the plush skin gently. 
You should have guessed, but this boy didn’t have a clue how to take a bra off, so you did the job for him, sure to give him a display at the same time just for the dramatic effect of your surprise. 
“H-holy shit.” Chan oggled your breasts from below. You were certain that he didn’t notice the way that he slicked his tongue slowly over his lip at the sight of you. 
“You can touch them too.” You purred back into his ear, and he eagerly brought thrilled hands to your nipples. 
“They’re really...um, pretty.” He said with fluttering eyes from your breasts to your eyes. What a gentleman he was being. 
You toyed with your delightfully hardened bud in your hand while he played with the other. You pulled lightly at the sliver stud piercing there to show him that he could do the same and wetted your fingertips with your tongue to bring the wet to your skin. He kneaded at your breast firmly at first, cupping it in his hand, then moved his attention to your sensitive skin aroused just from the softest touches. 
Your tiny moans was all the validation that he needed to squeeze harder and pull rougher. It was as if you could see his cute pent up fantasies unfolding right before you in his sparkling brown eyes. 
“Mm, that feels so good.” You coaxed him further, going to grind you ass harder into his own lap and indulging in the way that even in your shorts, your folds could part around the thick imprint of his dick. 
You collapsed over his face to align your nipples nearest his tongue which he gave no more thought. Chan kissed at them with trailing breathy moans of his own that melted into you and vibrated against the metal made one with your hardened buds. He sucked too with a flicking tongue that sent heat straight down to your clit. Each time his flattened tongue would return with the wet of his spit, you felt weaker and weaker for this boy becoming more tantalizing by the second. 
“Want to--want to take off even more?” The phrase barely escaped your lips. 
“Mmhm.” He agreed, then took to shimming off his pants quickly and watching you do the same, revealing your sky blue panties that always soaked in the way that you liked them to. 
Your show continued on, and you took two of our fingers to rub over your clit while facing him. He too had wetted a spot into his boxers that adorably bunched around the upper parts of his thighs. With your free hand, you slithered to his erection and traced the outline, leaving him on a teasing squeeze. 
“B-before we do anything else...I have to tell you something?” The young man hesitated, causing you to draw your hand back. 
“What is it?” 
“This is like my, first time, first time. You know?” 
“You’ve never--” 
“--I know. It’s...kinda embarassing...and the fact that it’s happening this way...” 
“You don’t want it to happen this way?” 
Chan stammered, but shook his head vehemently, “That's not it. I just don’t want you to be dissapointed...since I don’t really...know what I’m doing too well.” 
He cracked with a hopeful smile, and you couldn’t stand it any more. 
“Babyboy, you’ve got nothing to worry about, I don’t mind.” 
“You don’t?”
“No,” You scooched next to him to twist a couple of his deeply cherry red strands into your fingers, “In fact, the fact that you haven’t done this before...really turns me on. Got it?” 
Chan gulped, “S-so...what-what can I do for you? I’ll do anything?” 
You pressed a light kiss into his forehead with a hand trailing up his thigh and back to his dick which still throbbed with his excitement. 
“How about, you show me how you jerk off this cock of yours, angel? And I can show you how I do the same? For starters?” 
He licked his lips once more, hooking his hands under his waistband and freeing his cock pink, and even thicker than you had imagined. You slid yourself unto his arm to cuddle up close to him, one of your legs swung over his so he could see exactly how you played with your clit. 
He wrapped his hand around his dick with a tug which elicited a tiny “ah!” from his mouth. 
“That’s it...jerk your cute cock for me...just like that.” 
His eyes devoured the circles made by your hand between your legs--you strung together your slick between your fingers to him to see. The clear stringy cum shone on your fingers, making the other boy whimper out seeing how it coated them. 
“I want to touch you too...down there, so bad.” He pleaded after pumping faster at himself. 
“Oh? Pretty boy would like to feel what it’s like to touch my dripping cunt, hm? You know that watching you makes me like this...?” 
Chan gasped out at the thought, letting out an “mmhm.” that cracked in his throat. 
“C-can I?” 
The heat of your naked bodies intermingled and turned the air of his small room dense, and each of your senses became hyper aware in your own arousal: every hair that stood on end, every flinch of his muscles beside you, you could feel it all. 
“Of course you can.” 
Chan shifted, leaving his dripping cock to pulse on your thigh where he flipped on his side to dip his hand between your folds and against your swollen clit. 
“Rub in circles baby, or whatever feels right to you...you’ll know if it feels good for me.”
He nodded with hands trickling down to your pussy heated between your legs. 
There’s something different about him, it could be the fact that you know next to nothing about him, or how he makes you bothered. 
Slowly, his fingers dip between your folds slicked from your teasing--and the way that there mere sight of him teases you. Your back arches from the press of his fingers, and your bud throbs under each and every swipe of his fingers. 
“Feels good?” He whispers into your ear, tickling it. 
“Mm-yes.” With your free hand, you tangle your fingers into his hair to pull right at the roots. You bite a kiss into his lip while drawing him closer to you. His lips are plush and quivering like they can’t decide what to do with all the simulation at once. 
“Harder...you can press harder,” The words were airy on your tongue while your hips writhed. 
“Like this?” He circled harder, wider with his digits mixing with your cum. 
The room appeared to blur in your euphoria. Coupled with the gentle music playing there was a kind of peace to this boy and everything about his little space. The further he continued, the more you longed for him fully--to feel every inch of his length inside of you as you fucked him for the first time. 
Your hand grabbed at his hair even tighter: a symbol that he took as a good sign. He laughed out a little at your response. 
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He coos. Against your thigh, his dick bobs with a flared tip, begging for more attention. 
You moan out for him as you dig your heels into his bed, and watch the way that your nipples harden around the metal piercings just from his touch. 
“Just you wait baby, we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” Your kisses pull at his lower lip as you fill his mouth with more moans. “You don’t even know how fucking tight it is, how it feels when I pull you inside of me and how the friction feels when you’ll fuck me.” 
Chan shivers from your words with a gulp and lets his fingers fall down to your entrance where is curiosity gets the best of him. You wince feeling his fingers fill your pussy with the wonderful way that you desperately close around his digits. 
“Shit.”
“Are you ready?” You ask him permission before trailing a hand down his torso. 
“--Yes,” He nods quickly, “Please. God--I want to feel it. Show me.” 
You twitch from the lack of contact to your pussy when you swing your leg to straddle him. Your hips meet his, and he struggles for a moment over where to put his hands. In one motion you grind your dripping folds over his bare dick, slicking him up and down with the light grind of your hips. A broken gasp escapes from his lips which you catch with your own mouth in a kiss. His closed eyes flutter from the feeling of having you so close...but not completely yet. 
“Got a condom, angel?” You caress down his cheek and let your thumb linger over his bottom lip. 
Chan gives you a grunt in response before contorting his body to the side table where he fumbles for the plastic wrapper. His curtains dance a little with a breeze caught in them, likely from the window being open. The air smells a bit like water, and it’s cool and crisp in your lungs. It cools the surging heat that your body succumbs to. 
You move for him to roll the condom on, tracing the muscles of his chest. His skin is untouched, unmarked, and suddenly all you crave is to see him bruised and scraped in pink. You dig your nails into his chest seeing the way he jerks at himself just a bit more while looking up at you in awe. 
“H-how do we do this?” He asks. 
“Just...do as I say...’kay?” 
Your date nods, letting you take complete control over his body. You start at his neck with kisses that turn heavier and heavier then darker and darker. He busies his hands by cupping into your breasts and tweaking with the hardened buds. 
“Just lay still, I can put in the work pup, okay?” You reach for his erection further down his body, and he finds handles in your hips and ass. 
“I can do that.” He sighs out with a little groan feeling your hand squeeze at him. 
At first, you tease your entrance with his head, barely letting him feel anything besides your clit against his pink tip. His skin grows dewy in his anticipation, and he licks at his lips which dry from each breathy exhale he uses to steady himself. You take your cum to wet at his dick with your hand, and push harder at his sides with your thighs. 
“Tell me if you ever want me to stop, got it?” 
Chan hastily nods, digging deeper into your sides. 
“Fuck, just--fuck me already...I can’t...it’s really...hurts to wait--” 
“Getting demanding now are you?” You tap a light slap to his face. “You’re doing what I say, not the other way around.” 
“S-sorry...” He whines. 
You resume, sitting properly on his length: all the way down, all the way to your cervix which screams in ecstasy from feeling him fill you so deeply. 
“Fuck.” He groans, but his curse is intertwined with a beautiful giddy smile. “Its really tight. Oh god--” 
You lean over him to attach your lips with his once more--a tiny distraction from the way that you start to roll your hips over his length. Chan freely lets his moans tickle your lips, each of them more gruff than the last as he looses himself in you and your rhythm. He’s dizzied: lightheaded--even you can tell. The new sensation takes him over, and he’s left a mess for you: hips trembling while you work your pussy up and down his length and his fingers claw into your shoulder blades. 
Chan’s Adam’s apple bounces as he gulps dry, forming praises the best that he can. “Feels...amazing...” 
You sit back, allowing his full length to tease your g-spot as you fuck him rougher, indulging yourself to all the pleasure that he can give you when you let him in as deeply as possible. He notices the change, and supports your body up with hands running up and down your chest, and down your arms where he pulls at the skin with his short nails. 
“You like this?” You gasp between each roll of your hips. “How my cunt feels on your cock? How I can use you like this? Use your words Channie.” 
“Yes. Fuck yes. Yo-You look...mm--” 
You giggle a little at the light pink blush to his cheeks and the way that he stumbles over his words. 
“Think you can last a little longer, baby?” Your fingers creep to his throat where you tease at squeezing his neck.  
He pauses, loosing himself in it again before giving you a rushed answer: “I think? It’s just...really intense I think that I’m c-close already.” 
You permit him only a couple more seconds of you, then glide off him carefully to which he whines out in confusion. 
“Your turn to fuck me now. Come on, behind me.” 
Chan looks bewildered and breathless, but he does as he’s told and tosses aside stray pieces of clothing on the bed to get to you. You hoist up your hips for him after burying your face into the mattress. To guide him further, you fuck your fingers for him too at this angle, only stopping once you feel the pressure of his cock once more. He slides himself in agonizingly slow until he bottom’s out with a choked moan. 
“Fuck me baby boy. You know what do to.” 
Your date’s hand finds your hips once more which he firmly grasps, then begins screwing into your pussy already blazing with heat and your orgasm building from before. He finds his pace after a while and fills the room with the fleshy sound of skin on skin. Your own fingers find their own way back to your clit where you rub in tandem with his thrusts. 
“Oh,” He gasps quietly. 
Your nails bury into the comforter of the bed, and your teeth clench harder as he milks himself into you and grows in pace. 
“Fuck yes baby, fuck me just like that. You’re doing so good; fucking my pussy just like you should...” 
Your orgasm quickens hearing the praises come from the bottom of your heart and the way that he grunts out hearing them. For someone who’s never done this before, it’s unbelievable how good he is at it all. 
He shudders, and you feel yourself tighten around him further, sensing both of your release coming near. Your hookup doubles over your back, burning you with the heat from his body as he fucks into you with reckless thrusts. 
“Shit, I’m so, so close.” He admits though clenched teeth. 
“Me too baby, finish me off, cum inside until you’re throbbing and you can’t take any-anymore.” 
A switches flips within this once innocent man, and you feel the bed creak as he kneels on one leg, then lifts one to stamp upon the bed to better his angle. The new position directly sends your g-spot into flames, and you shake from limb to limb feeling your orgasm right on the brink. 
He growls upon his release, finishing it off with shallow breaths once he nearly collapses over your back to feel each drop of his cum release inside of your pussy. You rub your orgasm out until you see lightning behind your eyelids and it’s heightened by the way that he twitches with his cum against your deepest spot. 
“A-are you okay?” Your adorable date immediately asks once you gasp and writhe under him. 
“I’m fine, I’m fine...fuck,” You laugh out, “That felt unreal Channie.” 
He shakes once his softening dick leaves your hole, and you get a good look at this stranger: chest flushed and hair messed over his forehead. He falls down to his side on the bed still breathless and letting out happy little laughs. 
“I’m sorry if that was like, really fast. It just all felt...so good, and, I couldn’t really control it--” 
“Mm, don’t you worry.” You sweep down to kiss his gasping mouth. Silently, you thank whoever it was in the universe that let you meet this boy on this night, and whoever willed you to leave that party. 
“What do we do now?” Chan asks, still bare for you to take in wholly. You wanted to tell him, but couldn’t find the words. He was kind of beautiful. 
“Whatever we want. I could go, or I could stay. Really anything goes.” 
His chest is peppered with your purple love bites, and you wish then to give him even more if you have the chance--whenever that might be. 
Chan tilts his head, “Stay?” 
“Well, we still need to get to know eachother don’t we?” 
The handsome stranger grins, and lets his hand trace the side of your face. The cool of the room feels addictive against you, and it weaves around your neck and against the little hairs of your arms. 
“You’re right.” He nods, “There's only so much you can tell about a person from these kind of dating apps.” 
“That’s true.” Your hand discovers his collarbones, which you trace lightly. “It’s nothing like the real thing.” 
~🌹~
Bunch of (Ro)ses!
@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz  @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes  @lmhmins @eunaeiekim
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bubble-tea-bee · 4 months ago
Text
M!S/O Who Gets Emotional Easily (Billy Loomis, Will, Hannibal, Jason, Brahms)
Last Edited: May 20, 2021 12:03 AM
TW: none
Anon: Hi! :) can I request Brahms, will, Jason, billy loomis and Hannibal with a male reader that’s get emotional easily and cry’s easily and feels for people
Tags: none
Billy Loomis
• “What’s up with you, Sweetie? Why’re you crying?”
• Billy doesn’t really get it.
• Okay, his beau is emotional but does he always have to be this emotional.
• Doesn’t like it when he cries for him though; he hates it when he cries
• Billy does secretly like that he feels for him; this means he doesn’t have to say what he’s feeling.
• Definitely feels like he has to protect his lover more since he’s so emotional.
Will Graham
• “Take deep breaths, Buttercup; just listen to my voice and take deep breaths.”
• Will doesn’t really know what to do besides be there to calm down his boyfriend.
• He doesn’t mind that he gets emotional or cries easily.
• Hates that his beau cries so much but he doesn’t hate him for it.
• He understands feeling for people so he definitely bonds over that quite a bit.
• Will is probably the only one who can understand the most.
Hannibal Lecter
• “Just let it all out. I’ll be right here to talk about it.”
• Hannibal may not know exactly what his lover is going through, be he knows exactly how to help them.
• He’s right there by his side, letting him cry it all out.
• Afterward, he lets his boyfriend tell him why he was crying and lets his thoughts known on the matter.
• The fact that his beau can feel for others only makes Hannibal love him more.
• He’ll treasure him and make sure all of his wants and needs are taken care of promptly.
Jason Voorhees
• It’s okay! We can get through this together!
• Jason is holding his boyfriend tightly in his big meaty arms.
• He’s rubbing his back and just letting him cry it out.
• He doesn’t really understand but he sits and listens and is there for his lover the entire time.
• No way is he going to abandon him for being emotional.
• Jason does see it as a blessing that his beau can feel for him since there is no one else around him.
Brahms Heelshire
• “Why are you crying? Do you want a hug?”
• Brahms has no clue what to do.
• He does what his mother used to do and holds his boyfriend in a very tight hug; it’s a little too tight but he is trying.
• He doesn’t like it when he cries and he won’t understand why he does either.
• May say some insensitive things but he always ends up apologizing; he doesn’t think before he says stuff sometimes.
• Brahms will never really understand why his lover is emotional or why he feels people but he’ll still be there for him.
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starlessea · 4 months ago
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Sea Witch (Daryl Dixon/Reader)
Era: S4 
Summary: You sing just like a siren, and it makes Daryl realise why some sailors chose to drown.
Words: 1521
Warnings: Language.
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Daryl was bewitched. He'd tip-toed his way out of the cellblock like a ghost haunting the hallways - careful not to wake anyone. He'd always had trouble sleeping, and found himself sneaking out for a midnight cigarette more often than not. Though, he'd run out of them the week before last, and had only recently managed to find a soggy packet on yesterday's supply run. He'd been waiting for this, and his fingertips traced over the carton in his pocket - feeling antsy to breathe in that first breath of smoke.
Except, he had forgotten all about them when he made his way outside. It was dark, and usually Daryl would find a secluded spot in the courtyard to flick his lighter like it was a sparkler in the night, and let the ends of his cigarettes burn his fingers just so that he could remember the feeling. But tonight was different. 
He thought it must be the witching hour, because the world didn't quite feel like it had when he’d left it. The moon was out, and it cast a hazed glow over the fields, and made Daryl's hands look a lot paler than they were. Yet, the sky was clear enough that he could see the countless stars hanging in it - like peering sets of eyes staring down at him. Daryl wasn't the type of man to spook easily, but something about this night set him on edge.
Then, he heard it. He wasn't entirely sure from where, but he could definitely hear it nonetheless. The man took a few tentative steps, whipping his head around to try and find the source of the noise. He couldn't, but he kept searching in the dark, as if some strange magnetism wouldn't let him leave. Daryl was bewitched - but by what exactly, he did not know.
You stood in the watchtower, overlooking the rolling fields and the forest that concealed any world that may exist beyond the prison. It was like you all lived on an island, lost out at sea. You wished that were the case - and that whoever dared to try and come for you would drown in their manmade boats and leave you all in peace.
Everything had been calm since you'd taken down Woodberry, but you couldn't help but feel it was the calm before the storm. So, you watched. You peered into the dark like you expected to see something there, and counted down the minutes until you could switch your shift and rest your eyes for good. 
On nights like this, you felt an unease creep into your bones. You had no explanation for it, except the fact that everything felt too quiet. You didn't like that very much, so you decided to change it. Humming softly to yourself at first, you let your voice get gradually louder, as it got carried off by the wind like a ship to the current. 
"My heart is pierced by cupid-" you sang, the words coming out sweet and thick.
"I distain all glittering gold. There is nothing can console me-"
The breeze had died down, so that your voice rang clearer in the stagnant air, seeming to carry all away to that forest and beyond.
"But my jolly sailor bold." 
Daryl thought he'd gone mad. He paced around the courtyard like a fish bobbing around a lure - except, he couldn't see the lure dangling right in front of him. His cigarette remained unlit between his lips, and was mostly unsmokable from how much he'd chewed it between his teeth. The song was unlike anything he'd ever heard before, and he couldn't let himself return to his cell until he found out who sang it. It was strange; he felt more trapped here, outside, than he had done within the prison.
The moonlight allowed him a good enough view of the area, but he could see no other figures aside from his own shadow. He wondered if he was stuck in the midst of a dangerous game - but he felt himself too far gone to turn back now. The man spat the cigarette out from his mouth and stomped over it with his boot, grumbling under his breath about how much of a waste it was.
He turned on his heels, ready to call it a night - albeit a disappointing one. Then, he heard it again, and Daryl Dixon was no quitter.
"His hair it hangs in ringlets, his eyes as black as coal-" you continued, staring out into the abyss like you expected to see a ship break through the misty fog and drop anchor at your gates.
"My happiness attend him wherever he may go."
Then, you saw him. A figure stood below the watchtower, looking up at you like they'd just stumbled upon the new world. You let your words trail off and squinted, trying to get a look at whoever it was.
Daryl stood triumphantly at the base of the tower, having found the source of the siren song. He hadn't expected it to be you - but that was probably intentional. Daryl batted all thoughts of you away like they were oncoming attacks, not letting him alone for more than a minute. He really did feel bewitched by you, by your unassuming smile, or the way you laughed at other people's jokes that weren't his - and how he wished he'd been the one to tell them. He hadn't thought you'd been the one singing, but that was only because he tried to think of everyone else it could be, first.
"Who ya tryna lure in?" Daryl called up at you, and you flinched.
You hadn't expected for the shadow in the dark to be him, but you couldn't say that you minded, either.
"Jesus, Daryl!" You yelled back, resting your hand over your heart. "You scared me."
It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't entirely the truth. You'd seen him before he'd even called out. The only thing that had scared you was realising it was Daryl. The man left you utterly speechless on a good day, and you wondered whether tonight was a good night.
"Nah, ya scared me." He grumbled in response, keeping his voice loud so you could still hear it.
You couldn't make out any of his features from where he stood, but the moonlight illuminated enough that you could see him looking straight up at you - like you were the beacon atop of a lighthouse.
"Thought my time was comin' to an end." He remarked, and you stifled a laugh. "Jus' wanted a cigarette an' I got the sea witch over here singin' some creepy shit."
You felt your cheeks burn, suddenly feeling too tongue-tied for someone who'd spent the night pouring over all the lyrics and melodies you could remember. It was like you'd used up all your words on your songs - leaving you silent for longer than you'd like.
"It's not creepy!" You argued, after a few seconds, but the man already knew.
Daryl wasn't sure why he'd said that, and suddenly wished he could take it back. He glanced up at you, leaning on the railing of the tower as your hair draped over the edge of it. To him, you almost seemed like an apparition - standing there against the ghostly moon like you were made to exist for this night.
"Ya got a pretty voice." He mumbled, wanting you to know what he’d really meant to say.
You bent further over the guard, trying to hear what the man had muttered into the night. 
"What?" You shouted, calling out to him. "I can't hear you from down there."
He remained silent, or maybe you'd just missed what he'd said again. He felt so far away from you, and you wished he'd just come closer.
"Are you going to come up?" You prompted, but felt your heart sink as he quickly shook his head.
"Nah." He replied. "Don' fancy drownin' tonight." 
You raised an eyebrow, not having the slightest clue what he meant. The man didn't give you much time to mope, however, as he called back up to you before he left.
"Maybe tomorrow." He said, and you watched the angel wings of his jacket catch the light as he turned around.
"Okay." You smiled to yourself. "See you around, Sailor!"
And so, Daryl returned back to the cellblock for the night, thumbing over the near-full packet of cigarettes in his pocket. The prison was as quiet as it was when he'd left, and he wasn't sure if any time had even passed since he’d been gone. The man slumped back onto his mattress and felt himself drift off to sleep like a boat adrift over waves, feeling more tired than he’d done in a long time.
Daryl fell asleep to dreams of peering, starlit eyes and a sea witch who stood among them, and you continued to sing until another figure was lured to your watchtower - this time, to take over your shift.
A/N I was listening to this cover of Jolly Sailor Bold whilst writing this. It’s honestly so enchanting-
Send me a message if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!
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doctorstethoscope · 3 months ago
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The Right Chapter 2 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader
Hello besties, laptop is going haywire but for the moment we are back!! 
Read chapter 1 of this fic here!
TW: This chapter contains swearing and descriptions of domestic violence. Please read at your own discretion! 
wordcount: 2.6k
tagging: @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 DM to be added to the tag list :) 
Josh fell asleep on your ride home. You roused him gently as you pulled into your designated parking spot outside of your apartment.
“Josh,” You whispered, pushing at his shoulder gently. “Come on, we’re home. It’s late. Let’s go to bed.” 
He jerked awake. “Fuck. I was sleeping. Jesus.” He barked. 
“Sorry, baby. We’re home.” You repeated.
“Don’t know why you even bother calling it home. You’re never fucking here.” Josh grumbled, clumsily unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding out the passenger seat of the car. He went on ahead as you went into your backseat to gather your go-bag and purse. When you got to the front door, he was still fumbling with his house key. 
“Here, let me.” You took the key from his hands gently, unlocking the deadbolt and opening the door. 
Before you could even turn around, you were on the floor in the doorway, your nose slamming into the carpet. You were bleeding onto the floor, your blood soaking the tan fibers. It takes you a moment to realize that he’d pushed you. 
“Josh, what the--” a well placed kick to your hip cut off your protest before you could finish it. You rolled over, looking up to see him panting, with angry eyes. 
“You think you’re real slick huh? Staying late at work with the boss? Jesus, sweetheart. I thought you were better than getting a promotion on your back.”
“We were working, Josh. There’s nothing else going on there.” You argued, scrambling backwards away from him and propping yourself up on your elbows. You know that there should be some sort of instinct kicking in, one that allows you to disarm him as if he were an unsub, but you feel helpless as you struggle to put distance between the two of you. He followed you across the room, kneeling over you and pinning you against the floor before delivering another harsh slap to your already-swollen cheek. 
“Listen to me when I’m talking to you.” He growled, and you gulped. He smirked, before grabbing you by the hair and throwing you against the closest wall. You see stars, but you will yourself to stay awake. You’re scared of what he might do if you can’t fight back. 
“Oh yeah? Just working, at 2AM when everyone else is gone? And what was that he called you? Invaluable.” He spits out, pulling you up roughly by your forearms. He leaned in close, presumably to intimidate you. You don’t give him the satisfaction, looking him in the eye and doing your best not to let your glare betray your fear. “Well, we’ll see about that.” He smirked, reaching an arm around to take your gun out of its holster, placing it against  your chin. Your face dropped. 
“Josh… Joshua, you’re drunk. Let’s just go to bed, okay? I’m sorry I was out late. I’ll make it up to you in the morning. I swear.” You’re frantic, your training leaving you once again. De-escalate, de-escalate, de-escalate. “I’m sorry, baby. It won’t happen again, I promise. I’ll request a transfer so I don’t have to travel anymore.” 
He chuckled. “Okay, dear. We can talk in the morning. I’m going up to bed. Get that blood out of the carpet, will you?” He placed your gun on a nearby end table.
He kissed you on the forehead before he went to the bedroom, but the gesture had never been less comforting. He left you there, standing against the wall, blood streaming down your face. You slid down the wall, knees curled up into your chest on the floor, regulating your breath for a few minutes before you rose again. You holster your gun before tending to the blood on the carpet, realizing belatedly that you can’t get it clean because you’re still dripping all over the stain. You chuckled a little, although none of this is really all that funny, sitting back on your heels and looking up at the ceiling, wondering how the fuck you ended up here. Realizing you had no clue what time it was, you reached out your work phone, seeing a missed text from Aaron. 
Please let me know that you’re safe.
You looked around, at your blood on the carpet, at the dent your head had made in the drywall when Josh threw you against it. You brought a gentle hand to your face, feeling how your nose was definitely not in the same place it was when the day had started, and you sighed. Things with Josh were never perfect-- but this was too far. You texted Hotch back. 
I need help. 
Hotch could have easily blamed his inability to fall asleep on the cups of coffee you both had been drinking well into the evening, but he knew that wasn’t the case. If that were so, there was no reason for him to be flicking his eyes over to his phone every three minutes. But here he was, in his study, file open in front of him, and not a word of it absorbed.     
Finally, finally, his phone buzzed. He unlocked it fervently, anxious for the assurance that you were fine. Your text provided no such assurance. 
“Are you safe right now? Do you need medical?” He texted back, trying to keep his head for your sake. 
“Not urgently. Can’t stay here.” 
“You alone?”
“He’s asleep.” 
“On my way. Pack a go bag.” 
“Don’t come in. Light sleeper. Just text.”
You were suddenly grateful for the load of laundry you’d left in the dryer that morning, tossing it all in your go bag without folding it. When you realized that you didn’t know when or if you’d be back here, you took the lockbox off the top of the fridge and pulled out all of your important documents-- your passport, birth certificate, social security card--you tuck them all into a file folder as you feel your phone buzz. 
“Outside.” Hotchner texts you plainly. You gingerly pick up your bags and slip out the door, careful not to make any noise. 
Hotch is out of the car in an instant once he sees you-- he doesn’t know what he expected, exactly, but somehow you look worse, even from a distance. 
“Hey, hey, give me that.” He said, taking your bags from you. “You said you didn’t need medical.” He said, accusatory, but not mean. 
“I said not urgently. I didn’t want you to send an ambulance.” You told him. “I feel fine. I just need advil.” You said as the two of you climbed into his SUV. 
He looked you over, incredulous. Your nose was definitely broken, and he couldn’t tell in the dark of the night, but he was pretty sure you were still bleeding. Your cheek was swollen from where he slapped you, and you were sporting a black eye, likely a complication of the nose. And that was just what he could see. He shuddered, although he tried to hide it from you. 
“We’re going to the hospital.” He said, turning his key in the ignition and taking off.
“Hotch, I just want to sleep. Please. I’ll take myself to the hospital in the morning, I promise.” You practically begged. 
He turned his head towards you. The only thing he wanted more than to give in, in that moment, was to make sure that you were safe. “Did you hit your head?” He asked, 
“What?” You asked. 
“Did you bump your head at all, when everything happened?”
“Yeah,” you told him, running a hand over your head and feeling the tender bump that was forming there. You cringed, and Aaron caught it. 
“I’m sorry, but we need to take you to the hospital. You probably have a concussion.” He apologized. 
“I really don’t want to go through the whole ‘you were clearly involved in a domestic dispute’ thing that they’re going to do,” you complained.
“You don’t have to answer any questions you don’t want to answer. I just need to make sure you’re okay. Everything else goes at your pace.” He promises you, sneaking a glance away from the road and over to your face. You’re already looking back at him. 
“Thank you,” you whispered. 
Already looking back at the road, Hotch took one hand away from the wheel and gave your forearm a quick squeeze in response. You drove in silence for a few moments before Aaron pulled into the hospital.
“Alright, let’s get this over with so we can get you to bed.” He told you, climbing out of the car before coming over to your side to help you walk. Truth be told, you didn’t really need assistance, but your hip hurt so badly that you were limping, and it seemed better to have Aaron slowed down by helping you, rather than just by watching you. 
The emergency room was, thankfully, deserted, and you were seen relatively quickly. Aaron offered to stay in the waiting room but you asked him to come with you. 
“I, uh. I don’t really want to be left alone right now, if you don’t mind.”
“No, no, of course not.” He said, standing and following you and the nurse. 
“What brings you in, dear?” The nurse asked, moving slowly to accommodate your pace. 
“My boyfriend beat the shit out of me.” You said, figuring she might make it easier if you  just bite the bullet, and Aaron shot you a glance. You shrugged in response, and then noticed the nurse’s eyes shifting between the two of you. 
“Oh, no. Not him.” You assured her with as big of a smile as you could muster, given the amount of pain that you were in. “He’s a friend. He picked me up.” You explained as she led the two of you into an exam room, shutting the door behind you. Aaron helped you up onto the exam bed gently, choosing to stand nearby rather than sit in the chair provided.
“Okay, ma’am. Our policy for domestic disputes is not to involve police unless requested by the victim.” You cringed at her word choice. “We don’t want this to be more stressful than it already is. What we do instead, is we take a detailed account of everything that happened to cause you bodily harm, and if you decide to pursue any legal action, we can send those records along on your behalf. So can you tell me what happened tonight?” 
You glanced over at Aaron before you started, taking a deep breath. He wasn’t going to like this. You told the nurse, clinically, what had happened, leaving out the things he had said to you for Aaron’s sake. You did your best to keep your emotions in check, although regurgitating everything that had happened was making you feel sick. You glanced over at Aaron-- his jaw was set, his mouth in a straight line, nostrils flaring, even as he stared at the linoleum tile on the floor. You closed your eyes and attempted to zone out as you continued, as if you could distance yourself from the emotions by imagining that it was just a story you were telling. 
“And then he pulled my gun out of my holster---”
“Ma’am, do you have a gunshot wound?” The nurse interrupts you, voice slightly panicked.
Oh, shit. You probably didn’t need to include that part. Your eyes are open in an instant, and you look over at Hotch. He’s pissed, and not looking at the floor anymore.
“No, no. Sorry, that is um--- that’s clinically insignificant. He didn’t fire the gun or strike me with it. That’s how it ended.”
“Okay, hon. Why don’t you get changed,” she said, handing you a hospital gown, “and I’ll send the doctor in in just a second.” 
“Thank you,” you said, and Aaron echoed his thanks. 
“Clinically insignificant?” Aaron asked incredulously as the nurse shut the door. 
“Can you turn around? I need to change.” You deflected.
He turned to face the wall as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “He pulled a gun on you, (y/n).” He shook his head as you quickly changed. 
“I know. I’m sorry. You can turn back around now.” You told him.
“No, I’m sorry. How long has this been going on for? How did I not notice?” He asked as he turned to see you, practically swimming in the oversized gown.
“I think we all work really, really hard not to be profiled, Aaron.” You tried to comfort him.
He was interrupted before he could respond by the doctor knocking and then swinging the door open.
“Good evening, folks.” The smiling blonde woman said. “Let’s get you home so you can sleep some of this off, yeah?” 
It takes a couple of hours, but you’re sent home with a nose that’s set back in place, as well as a prescription for enough pain killers to put a large dog in a coma, in addition to the confirmation that you did, in fact, have a concussion. Your hip, thankfully, was just bruised. 
“She needs to be woken up every couple of hours for the rest of the night and the day tomorrow. Just to be safe.” The doctor told Hotch. 
“Not a problem.” He said resolutely. 
“Do you have any questions?” She asked, turning to you. 
“When can I go back to work?”
“Well, if you work at a computer--”
“I work for the justice department. So, I guess I’m really asking about field work.” You clarify.
“At least ten days, and that’s if you’re feeling better.” She said, giving you a stern look. You visibly deflated, knowing that if the doctor said ten days, Hotch wasn’t letting you in the field for at least twenty. 
“Thank you, doctor.” Hotchner said, placing a hand on the small of you back as she opened the door and allowed you both out. 
“Of course. Call us if anything changes.”
You trudged out to the car in an exhausted silence, sure that you’ll fall asleep as soon as the car starts moving. Once you’re buckled in, Hotch speaks. 
“I’ll tell Strauss that we aren’t coming in today,” he says offhandedly as he cranes his body back to pull out of the parking spot, his arm strewn across the back of your seat for leverage.
“We?” You questioned. 
“You need to be woken up every two hours. I can’t exactly do that from the office.” He reminds you. 
“I can just set an alarm on my phone, it’s not a big deal.” 
“Uh huh, and when the alarm doesn’t wake you up because you have a brain bleed?” He’s teasing you, but you also know him well enough to know that there is a very real twinge of anxiety behind it. 
“Hotch,” you scoffed at his joke, breaking into a smile despite yourself. “I don’t need you to take care of me.” You added more seriously. 
“I know you don’t.” He placates you. “But will you let me do it anyways? Plus, you’re not the only one who didn’t sleep last night.”   
“I guess that’s my fault.” You admitted. 
“Hey, I’m glad you called me. And I’m also glad the bureau has a generous sick leave policy. We both need it right now.” 
You can sense that this is an argument that you’re not going to win, and even if you could, you don’t have the energy to try. You close your eyes and lean back against the headrest in the car, giving him a resigned nod before you fall asleep.
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hdlynnslibrary · 5 months ago
Text
Nevarro
In a Universe Far, Far Away - Part 7 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |
Pairing: Din Djarin x Earthling fem!reader Warnings: some language, exploring past the season 2 finale, emotional angst, fears of abandonment, hints of grief, some minor feelings of embarrassment, someone gets gagged with a greasy rag (we like to see it) Words: 3.7k Tags: Angst, no worries the cheese is safe, Din is conflicted about a lot of things, but is still thoughtful!Din
Thank you to my lovely beta reader @princessbatears <3
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“Mando,” Boba said after the channel for the call had finally been closed. “One moment before you start preparing to leave. I think I have something in mind for that debt of honor you’ve insisted on me accepting.”
The silver helmet tilted slightly before Mando responded, “And I intend to keep my word as I gave it.”
Fett grinned, “Good, ‘cause I know exactly what you can help me out with.”
You watched as Din crossed his arms over his chest, clearly no longer sure if he should have given out such a boon but too stubborn and honorable to retract it.
Whatever Fett asked for, it was as good as done. Though, if you had to guess, you did think there might be the hard limit of anything that would be purely dishonorable (such as turning in a kid for a bounty price for example) that Din wouldn’t do it was unlikely that the elder Mandalorian would ask for such a thing.
“Name it,” Mando said as he leaned back.
“So there is a question about what is happening with this soft one,” Boba said, jerking his head towards you. “I’ve taken a shine to her, don’t want anything untoward happening.”
The warm feeling of someone in this weird situation you’d found yourself in was cut off with the clear fact that Boba — despite apparently caring enough to find someone to look out for you — was trying to offload you on someone else. That stung enough on its own and then you had the pleasure of hearing the sharp tone of Din’s voice when he spoke back up.
“Your point, Fett,” Mando pressed. His arms were still crossed, his body still in the way that people sometimes went when they were trying to process something.
“Your debt of honor, I’ll consider it paid if you watch out for her,” Fett explained. “Fennec and I are going to have enough trouble with some of our old… associates on Tatooine.”
You winced, understanding what was going on. Now that their joined venture was coming to a close that left one very large loose end to deal with, namely you. And it seemed it seemed like you weren’t a project anyone wanted to just take on.
“And you think my plans are going to be any safer?” Mando bit out.
Fett tilted his head and stared Mando down until the black visor looked away from his gaze just slightly.
“No, I don’t think you’re work is necessarily safer,” Boba drawled, “but I trust you to uphold your word. I’d rather use up this debt of honor, which you insisted on, in this way. It wouldn’t be right to abandon our mir'shebika to being on her own or even worse with the New Republic, they won’t have any clue of what to do with her. Full offense, Dune,” Fett joked.
Cara shrugged, “None taken, you’re probably not wrong. There aren’t really… protocols for this kind of situation.”
Your heart sunk into the pit of your stomach, you already knew what was going to happen. Din would agree because of his sense of duty and honor, and you would become his… problem. An unwanted complication when it was clear he had been itching to just wash his hands of everything and get on with whatever he had planned.
Yet… it wasn’t like you were going to protest. You could in theory, you just were hardly in a situation where you could go off on your own and support yourself yet. Hell, you couldn’t even read the written form of Basic making it that much harder to navigate this new universe on your own. You needed a guide for at least a little while… even if they didn’t necessarily want you.
There was a tense silence as Boba just waited Mando out, the older man was relaxed and unconcerned. The posture warranted when Din gave a disgruntled and heavy sigh.
“Fine, I will take her with me and act as her protector,” Din surrendered before continuing, “until she’s able to take care of herself.”
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After that tense little scene, your ship had gotten word the New Republic envoy would be arriving out of hyperspace shortly. Boba and Fennec had decided it was time to get ready to drop you all off.
As everyone had buckled into their seats, Fennec had pressed a wrapped up block your hands.
“Your cheese,” she said before explaining. “It’s wrapped up in a cooling mesh, will keep it nice and chilled for up to 48 hours if you keep it wrapped, or until you can put it another conservator.”
You had to blink back sudden tears of emotion you couldn’t exactly place, so you ducked your head in the pretense of examining the wrapper. The fact that she had not only was ensuring you hadn’t forgotten one of your only possessions, but also that Fennec had even made sure that it wouldn’t go bad? It touched you.
Opening your mouth to say thank you, she had waved it away like it was nothing before sitting down for entry.
“Don’t, I have a reputation to upkeep,” she said with a stern frown. The assassin proceeded to surprise you with a small, dry smile, “Just make sure to stick anyone who gives you trouble with the sharp end of that knife, eh?”
Huffing a laugh, you nodded in agreement. Really, what else could you even do in such a situation?
Cara had taken some great amount of joy stuffing the Moff’s mouth with a gag when he started being his snarky self. The greasy rag was probably too good for him to be frank, but no one was in the mood for the attempts at mind games he was increasingly desperate to play. Perhaps he did know more than you all did, but what use was that if no one was going to play his game? His access to leverage and power had been cut off, leaving just a vile man desperate to regain any scrap of power over someone else. Getting rid of his presence and having the New Republic deal with the issue just sounded so delightful.
You watched as the dull gray surface of the planet came more into focus as the ship landed. The earth wasn’t “earth” per-say, it was much too dry and hard-packed for anything you could see being used for soil. Some of the cracks seemed to run deeper into the crust of the planet letting a warm glow of molten orange lava traveling in a network of volcanic rivers and tubes. Perhaps in the far-off future, the planet would be more hospitable to the growth of more things on the surface, but for now, it was a relatively young planet in concerns to habitability.
The goodbyes were over just as quickly as they had begun, sentimentality not high on the priority lists of bounty hunters, ex-shock troopers, or assassins. Boba told you to not get into trouble while Mando slung the beskar spear into place on his back and Cara double-checked both of the prisoner’s cuffs were still properly locked.
The moment your little group was down the ramp, it was being raised up. After practically spitting the five of you out onto the grey lava flats, Slave I was already off the ground as the ramp fully retracted back up, the engines kicked up as a notch the flames a hot bright blue as it quickly rose up from the ground and then punched through the atmosphere of the planet into hyperspace. The gray dust from being set down hadn’t even settled before Fett and Shand had departed for Tatooine, or so you presumed.
With little time to adjust from being on a spaceship to a strange planet, you could see a black man in a formal-looking outfit. You assumed it was Greef Karga, who was waiting for your ship with a small envoy of very official appearance people as well as two white and orange-clad starfighter pilots. One of the pilots, an older man did a double-take of Mando. You wondered if this had been the same man who had been part of the reason the Razor Crest had been crashed on that ice planet.
“Mando! Marshal Dune!” The man from before said in a booming and warm voice. He heartily patted Cara on the back in front of the official-looking congregation of people who looked to be New Republic representatives. You hadn’t missed the slightly confused raised eyebrow when he had seen you, but apparently, any questions about your pajama-clad self could wait. “Good to see you both are in good health.”
He looked to Din’s side and then also scanned over you before frowning slightly. “And the child?” He asked.
“He’s… safe. Returned to learn with his kind,” Mando offered stiffly.
Karga’s brows furrowed for a moment like he wanted to inquire further before deciding against it.
“Good, good as long as he is safe that’s what matters,” he said before turning back to the matter at hand. “The New Republic officials have an initial scan they would like to make of the men you both have brought in. Considering how slippery higher Imperials can be, they just want to confirm their identities before any rewards are transferred.”
Mando nodded, letting some of the soldiers step forward to take control of the war criminal and the scientist. As they were being processed you partly listened in to Karga talking about setting up an account for the credits the Moff’s bounty was going to bring in before Din started arguing with Cara about the percentage of the cut she was going to take when she refused to take half. After all, she wasn’t in need to replace a ship like he was, she pointed out.
As the two of them continued to bicker back and forth, and Dr. Pershing and Moff Gideon were being processed you didn’t even notice that someone had approached you until they were directly in front of you.
“And this one? I don’t recognize her face, just a low-level Imperial right?” One of the officers asked as they started to scan your face. “Not going to get much of a bounty for her.”
You were jerked back slightly and away from the officer and nearly stumbled. A hand shot out to find your elbow for a moment to steady you before it let you go again.
A wall of cape and beskar slipped in front of you, not unlike before with Bo’Katan, but this time you hadn’t provoked the situation.
“She isn’t Imperial. She’s a civilian and under my protection,” Mando stated firmly, not looking back at you. Instead, his visor stared holes into the New Republic officer waiting for him to back off.
The man frowned, fidgeting with the handheld scanner for a moment before he assented and moved on to help their counterparts.
“Come on,” Mando said, turning on his heel and starting off without you. You blinked before setting off after him, needing to adjust your stride to keep up with the speed he was using.
“Don’t you need to collect the bounties?” You asked as you both left the New Republic people behind. You were confused as to why you both were leaving already.
Din grunted before responding, “Karga is going to take care of the paperwork for me for a cut, he has more experience with New Republic red tape and bullshit… and you need new clothes.”
You felt your face warm with embarrassment at being reminded you were pretty much just in borrowed shoes and your pajamas. It was a fashion statement you really didn’t care to be making, though thankfully the cardigan you also had seemed to make the outfit look a little more intentional? Maybe? Either way, you were just glad you hadn’t picked out the truly ratty sleep clothes you owned, you had plenty of comfy things some of them were just… well for sure not what you would want to wear out and about.
“Sorry,” you found yourself saying by reflex, not noticing the helmet slightly turning to better look at you.
He shook his head with a sigh, “Don’t apologize, it is what it is.”
You kept close to the Mandalorian’s side as you entered the city of Nevarro. The blocky stone arch, so familiar to you from the show, loomed large over your head as you passed under. You couldn’t help but crane your neck to look up at it before going down the main thoroughfare. Domed roofs in creams and grays sat on top of buildings that had been carved into the tough igneous rock. It was then you realized that you had been walking down a wide slope, the building frontages having been created in the walls of what had once been a rather wide canyon that, you presumed, had lava flowing in it at one time probably centuries ago.
Now instead of a canyon of heat and fire, a community had found itself a safe haven. Brightly colored awnings were to be found at nearly every doorway, some in solid colors like ocher and crimson, while yet others had beautiful and intricate patterns in a multitude of colors. Food vendors and merchants alike seemed to have thriving businesses, the smell of spices and cooking food was a mix of the unknown to you as well as hints of ones you swore you knew, but it was all mixed up in such a way you couldn’t pinpoint a single one.
It must not have been a regular school day — not that you knew what day of the week it was here — for children were running around in what seemed like a citywide game of tag. Their screaming laughter echoing in the square that had the memorial tribute statue to IG-11. It still boggled your mind that the statue existed not just as an Easter egg in the background of the show, but had been something an entire town had found to be something they wanted to commemorate.
Din seemed to know where he was going as you followed him to the far side of the square. The shop you shortly found yourself in was nice and neat and smelled of something earthy and floral. The owner had been more than happy to help you pick out several day’s worth of clothing per the Mandalorian’s instruction before he disappeared out the door to go to another shop a few doors down.
You watched his back retreat with some amount of apprehension. You didn’t really think he was just going to up and abandon you on a strange planet with no money, at least you were like ninety-nine percent sure he wouldn’t go back on his word. But he was the most familiar person you had at the moment so with him leaving? It left a wide crack of terrifying aloneness inside of you even as the sales lady chatted away.
The store was an interesting assortment of dry goods, clothing, and other personal essentials. Everything was neatly arranged and the whole space had the feeling of being rather new. You couldn’t help wondering if this store was just part of the now newly thriving community of Nevarro since Karga becoming its Magistrate rather than just running a bounty hunting guild from it. Whatever had gotten him taken from his previous post you were pretty sure it hadn't been because of him being incompetent, Karga was clearly a level-headed and damn smart man to get this sort of change enacted in what was, what? Many a couple months at most?
You got a couple shirts, new undergarments, some pants, and one of the cheaper lightweight jackets. When you hadn’t been sure about what kinds of planets and climates you would be going to shortly the owner had pointed you to some of the temperature-regulating fabrics. Somehow they had the technology to not only have the items be breathable in hot weather, but also insulating in colder temperatures with the fabrics interacting with the ambient temperature to keep normal human body temperatures regulated at an ideal level.
The lady — whose name you had been told was Renna — had then also gone on to explain how all the clothing she sold was silver infused for antimicrobial purposes. The amount of engineering that had gone on in just weaving the cloth itself before it had even been turned into clothing boggled your brain as you picked out socks that looked and felt just like regular socks, but you had been told they had a very high rating for staying odor free as well as being easy to wash in the waterless washing machines that were extremely popular around here.
While Renna hadn’t remarked on what you had come in wearing, she had clearly found it lacking and urged you to put on one of the new outfits and try on a sturdy pair of shoes that actually fit you properly. One thing you could give this universe? The changing rooms were properly made with a door and not with curtains that never seemed to be the right width and left gaps at the sides. Much less stressful trying on things without worrying about if someone might get an accidental eyeful.
Renna knew what she was about, literally everything she’d helped picked fit you eell and everything felt like it was pretty good quality for the cost. At least you hoped so, you were a little fuzzy on the equivalent value of credits vs any forms of currency on earth. Some Star Wars ultra nerd had probably done some fancy research work and math equations to try and figure that out, but that hadn’t ever been useful information you wanted to know before.
As you were finishing up your little pile of clothing, you knew exactly when Din came back from how the owner of the shop had tensed slightly before putting her customer service face on.
You, on the other hand, felt a tension that you had been holding in your shoulders unwind knowing Din hadn’t left.
Turning around, you gave him a little smile that you hoped didn’t come off as too desperate, but you found it a little hard to hide the relief you were feeling.
He had paused for a moment, head tilted as he looked over you and your pile of clothing and personal essentials Renna was about to start wrapping up for you. “All set?”
“I tried to keep it to a minimum,” you explained as he came to stand at the counter beside you. You couldn’t help but notice how he made an effort to not crowd in over the shorter shop owner or hover too close to you.
He nodded his head slightly, no longer looking at you and seemed to examine the jacket. “Everything looks good, but do you have anything better than this?” He asked the owner.
“Oh, yes,” she said quickly, “that is one of our cheaper options, let me grab some that is a nicer quality for you both to pick from.”
While she was pulling the stock from the back, Din pulled down a belt and pouch set as well that was in your size and added it to the pile since you “needed someplace for that kriffing knife” as he had put it.
You had a bit of a hard time suppressing the grin at his acquiescence with letting you keep your single weapon and gift despite his original dislike for the idea. Even if it was still rather begrudgingly given you were going to take it. A new jacket was deemed to be more appropriate according to the Mandalorian’s standards, it was a pretty, dark green with an almost ribbed texture to the fabric and then also sewn with a quilted diamond pattern in a golden-brown thread.
When Renna gave Din the bill you couldn’t help but grimace because it sounded like a lot. You opened your mouth to say sorry again, but he beat you to it, the visor turning back to you as he opened up one of the pouches at his waist.
“You don’t have to keep apologizing,” he said gently. “Credits aren’t an issue at the moment and you need real clothes.”
There was a slight moment you almost missed as the Mandalorian stiffened slightly as he pulled something from the pouch. You saw what looked like a round, silvery object in his gloved hand before he stuffed it back into the pouch and retrieved some credits.
It was hard to read a person covered in beskar, but you could tell he was upset with the now polite yet clipped tone he spoke with as he finished paying. It struck you then, that had been THE ball. The same ball that the child had loved, the part of the lever from the now vaporized Razor Crest that had been the last little reminded that had caused Din to turn back. With everything that had happened it had been put in his pouch for safekeeping, probably he had meant even give it back to Grogu later… but it had been forgotten and left to be found at this moment.
He finished paying for your clothing, polite to a fault still, but so, so unsettlingly quiet now. You had only the smallest glimpse of the emotions the man behind the helm was feeling, yet it was rather clear he was distressed to have found it. The items having been put into a bag, Din jerked his head towards the door. “Time to head out, the magistrate should hopefully have things sorted now,” he said, his tone back to being terse and short again.
He didn’t even wait for a response from you before heading out the door. Your arms full of your new pack filled with new clothes, your pajamas from home, and your damn cheese, you gave Renna one last hurried “thank you” before jogging to make sure Mando didn’t leave you behind.
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Translations: mir'shebika - little smart-ass
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klinenovakwinchester · 7 months ago
Text
baby, i’m preying on you tonight (Damon Salvatore x Fem!Reader, Stefan) -- one shot
Uhm. I blame @treat-winchesterswith-kindness​ for this one (again)
Summary: You’re Damon’s, through and through, but one day Stefan overhears you breaking a rule, and tells Damon. Punishment ensues in your favorite form: a game of chase with the Salvatore brothers.
Warnings: SMUT, Daddy kink, kind of a dark fic, established relationship (Damon x Fem!Reader), but Damon shares you with Stefan sometimes, no incest though y’all don’t be WEIRD, sort of public sex but you’re in the woods behind the Salvatore house so, oral (f and m receiving), choking, biting, light smacking, orgasm denial
Word count: 4.2k
DAMON MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST
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When you said you wanted to play a game of tag with the Salvatore brothers, that’s exactly what you had meant. A game of tag.
Not what you’re doing now.
“Come on, guys,” you laugh, not taking their serious looks seriously at all. Especially not Stefan’s. He’s supposed to be above this, or he always acts like it anyway. “When I said ‘let’s play a game’ I didn’t mean like this, you know that. I don’t know these woods like you do. And it’s dark. Aren’t you scared I’ll get hurt?” You look toward Stefan then, knowing better than trying to appeal to Damon’s softer side right now.
“You’ll be fine,” Damon says, eyes narrowed and gaze locked on you. “We won’t let you get too far.”
Stefan is the only one who seems not completely consumed by the idea of chasing you. “We don’t have to do this if you really don’t want to.”
“Don’t be naïve, brother,” Damon sneers, reading you like a book. “She wants this. Listen.”
He points his index finger to his ear. Your breath hitches because you know exactly what he’s listening for. It’s something you can’t hide, no matter how hard you try. It’s a biological response, the same one your body has every time you’re near them.
“Ohhh, and she’s getting excited as we stand here,” Damon smirks. “Your heart is racing, Princess. Are you sure you don’t want to give in right here?”
“No,” you say a little too loudly because your adrenaline is pumping too fast for you to control things like your volume. “No, because then there wouldn’t be a game.”
Damon takes a single step toward you and you instinctively take one step back. The only issue is the two of them have you boxed in. One step away from Damon is one step closer to Stefan, and if his silence is anything to go by, you’d say the other Salvatore brother is into this just as much as the one currently stepping toward you.
“Go ahead,” Damon says quietly, darkly, tilting his head. “Run. I’ll give you a head start.”
You know better than to hesitate, so you take off running, yelping when Damon’s fingers graze your arm. He wasn’t trying to grab you then, only letting you know who you belong to. And of what is soon to come.
Running in the woods at all is difficult, but take away the sun and suddenly it’s like you’re constantly running through foreign territory. Never mind the fact that you’ve been out here with Stefan while he hunts, or that you’ve made out with Damon against nearly all of these trees. Right now, it feels like you couldn’t be any farther from home.
Your heartbeat is thudding too loudly in your ears for you to focus on whether or not you hear footsteps behind you. But then you remember you wouldn’t hear them coming even if you focused. They’d be on top of you in a split second.
Damon didn’t even tell you how much of a headstart he’d give you, so you run blindly and as fast as you can for what feels like fifteen minutes -- but you’re aware it’s probably only been five.
You break to catch your breath, pressing your back into one of the trees. If you really wanted to toy with them, you’d climb to the top. You know they wouldn’t expect it because they’ve never seen you climb trees before.
But running was the only mode of hiding specified in the rules. Breaking one might get you in even more trouble than you already are.
It was a harmless offense, what led you to them proposing a game of chase as punishment. You flirted with the bartender at Mystic Grill, but to be fair, they’re new and you wanted a free drink (you got it, but that’s beside the point, apparently).
Leave it to Damon and Stefan Salvatore, though, to know your every move. Stefan was apparently walking past the Grill when he heard you. And once Damon found out, well, he was waiting for you by the front door when you walked in.
You went in for a kiss and he didn’t move. He stood staring at you, arms crossed, and asked the one question that always makes you freeze. “Do you have something you’d like to tell me?”
You knew at that moment that he had seen or found out or something. You never would’ve bet on Stefan being a tattle-tale, not to you.
But, that’s all a few hours in the past. Now, you need to focus.
You know there’s no way you’re making it out of this without one of them getting you. But that doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy the chase just as much as they do.
So, with that thought in mind and a wicked grin on your face, you take off running for the second time.
+++
Damon leisurely kicks some leaves, whistling quietly to himself.
“How long until we go after her?” Stefan asks tiredly.
Damon stops and smirks. “Soon. Why? Eager?”
“No, Damon, I’m worried because it’s dark and she’s running through the woods.”
“Can you still hear her?”
Stefan pauses. “Yes, but--”
“Then there’s nothing to worry about,” Damon says, his tone mocking. He claps Stefan on the shoulder, trying to be brotherly, but Stefan’s worry is still present. “Two minutes,” Damon compromises. “Two minutes, and then we’ll go since you’re so worried.”
Stefan shrugs Damon’s hand off his shoulder with a scoff.
+++
Meanwhile, you’re resting again. You have no clue where you are, but you know they can still hear you. You do wonder what’s taking them so damn long.
You lean your head back against the tree, ignoring the thought of bugs and other gross things out here.
A twig breaks to your left and you freeze, breath hitching. No other movement occurs, though, so you exhale. You figure it must’ve been a small animal or something.
You’re too tired to run anymore, your calves are screaming from the exertion and your muscles are starting to have small spasms. Hesitantly, you close your eyes, taking a deeper breath.
Wind rushes past you, the tell-tale sign that one of them has just run by you. The sudden burst causes your eyes to fly open, your heart skipping beats as it begins to race again.
“Tired already?” Damon’s voice taunts you from a few feet away, but you can’t see him. But you hear slow footsteps from the other direction -- Stefan. “There goes your heart again. You know, Stefan was worried about you, but I think you’re having fun, aren’t you?”
If you didn’t know them, you’d be terrified.
But instead you start running.
Damon’s laughter echoes behind you. “See, brother?”
You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling, drawing blood on accident. You’re not a Vampire because both of them refuse, but your favorite thing to do is tease them this way -- biting your lip to cheek until you bleed, so they taste the familiar tang of blood when they kiss you. It drives Damon especially wild.
The two of them rush past you on both sides, coming to stop in front of you. Your feet skid against the ground as you stop, chest heaving, staring them down. You can barely see them, but you’ve made it to a break in the trees where the moon is bright in the sky.
“Ready to give up?” Damon asks sweetly, eyes darkening even further. “Or am I going to have to make you?”
“Make me,” you say, gulping down one more breath. “I bet you can’t.”
Damon quirks an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?” He exchanges a look with Stefan. “That sounds like a challenge.”
Stefan remains quiet as always, no doubt trying to control himself. But he also knows his place. He knows you’re Damon’s, but Damon shares sometimes. Like now, when you want both brothers. It’s thrilling.
While they’re busy sharing their brotherly glances, you take off running in the other direction, giggling. The sound makes Damon grin before he jogs after you, waiting for the right moment to use his speed.
You’re less running now and more leisurely jogging, waiting for Damon to catch up. You’re well aware that you’re mocking him, and what it means for when he finally catches you. But the idea makes you warm all over.
You let your thoughts get away from you because in a flash, you’re boxed in by both brothers once more. Your footsteps slow to a stop as you spin around, finding Stefan behind you and Damon directly in front of you.
“Mmm,” you hum, holding back a grin from what you’re about to say. “I think I might’ve bit my lip while I was running.”
You practically see Damon tense, his gaze lowering.
You nod, continuing. “Definitely did. I can taste bl--”
You don’t get to find the sentence before you’re sped back against a tree, Damon’s hand around your throat.
“What did I tell you about doing that?”
You wrap both hands around his wrist, pressing his palm further into your neck. “That you love it,” you laugh, eyes rolling back when his knee presses in between your legs.
“Princess…” Damon growls. “Watch your mouth.”
“No fun,” you pout, which turns into a frown when he lets you down, removing all contact from your body. He knows you love his touch, that you practically yearn for it, so when he steps away, it hurts the most. “Fine,” you roll your eyes.
Stefan stands by just a few feet from you. Perfect.
Keeping your eyes on Damon, you turn and begin walking toward Stefan, letting your grin stretch across your lips as you bat your eyes at the younger Salvatore brother.
Stefan smiles softly, ever the easier brother, or so you think. Right when you stop in front of him, ready for a kiss, he spins you around.
Your breath is caught in your throat as one arm wraps around your waist, holding your back flush against his chest. His other arm is crossed over your chest, his hand resting on your shoulder -- he knows better than to touch your neck, that’s only Damon’s.
Regardless, you’re now trapped.
“Thank you, Stefan,” Damon nods to his brother. “Now, what am I going to do with you?”
“You could let me go, for starters,” you say, starting to squirm in Stefan’s grip even though there’s no use. He simply lifts you off the ground a little and you’re no longer in control.
“Aw,” Damon pouts. “Cute. But no. You did something wrong today. You broke a rule.”
“It’s a stupid rule.”
“Is it now?” Damon raises an eyebrow. “Do you need a reminder, then? On why we have that rule?”
You shake your head.
“I think you do,” Damon nods, stepping closer to you. He kisses your forehead softly, leaving his thumb and index finger on your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “That’s alright. My little girl just needs to be reminded who she belongs to, and that’s okay. I can remind you.”
You can feel yourself getting wetter the more he speaks, and you wonder if he can tell. Knowing Damon, he can.
“How can I remind you? Let’s see…”
Damon steps away, once again removing all contact. This time when you squirm, it’s less to rile Damon up and more involuntary. When Stefan tightens his hold, you whimper, your head falling back against his shoulder in defeat.
When Damon tugs his shirt over his head, you know exactly what’s about to happen.
He carefully lays the shirt down in front of your feet, gazing up at you from the ground, smirking. “I may be mean, but I’m still a gentleman. And no Princess should have her knees on the dirty ground, should she?”
You shake your head.
“Kneel for me,” Damon murmurs.
Stefan loosens his hold on you enough for you to begin kneeling, and he lets go fully when you do, to make sure you don’t get any other ideas about running. The sticks and rocks bite into your knees, no doubt forming pretty bruises for Damon to marvel at tomorrow, but you stay put.
“Good girl,” Damon smiles. “Hands behind your back. I have my belt, but don’t make me use it.”
The idea of his belt around your wrists entices you greatly, but you obey. There are other times for that. Right now, you don’t want to delay this any longer. You need something.
“Perfect,” Damon comments upon seeing you clasp your hands behind you. “Do you remember what we’ve practiced? Using no hands?”
You nod.
“Good,” Damon steps forward so he’s right in front of you, loosening his belt and letting it hang open. “Go on.”
Slowly, you tilt your chin up, leaning forward.
It’s harder than it looks, unbuttoning and unzipping jeans with only your mouth. You remember when Damon first wanted you to try. He had undone the button, but wanted you to pull the zipper down with your teeth.
But now, you’re almost a pro. It takes you a second, but soon the button pops open and you hear him groan. You grab the zipper in between your teeth and tug, holding back your satisfied smile when you hear it unzipping.
“Good girl,” Damon all but growls, pushing his jeans down, his underwear too.
His cock is hard and already leaking precum, and the sight is enough to make you lick your lips. You inch forward on your knees without realizing what you’re doing until you hear Damon clicking his tongue at you.
“Did I say you could move?”
You shake your head, averting your eyes from his dick to his feet.
“Eyes,” he reminds you, waiting to continue until after you’ve looked up at him. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself. Aren’t you?”
You nod slowly.
“Then we’ll slow down,” he says, and in one swift motion, your hard work is undone as Damon pulls his underwear and jeans back up.
You whine, squirming on your knees, unclasping your hands. “Damon, not fair--”
“Ah, ah, ah,” he looks at you with narrowed eyes. “Where are your hands?”
You’re too annoyed to put them back. “Damon.” This time you reach your hands out to him, grabbing. And as much as he loves that, he shakes his head.
Your eyes widen when he yanks his belt from around his hips. “Wait--”
“Hands,” he orders, stepping around behind you. You don’t move. “Little one, don’t make me move your hands.”
With a dramatic sigh, you put your hands behind you, your wrists pressed together. You nearly roll your eyes when you feel Damon’s belt tightening around your wrists, but you quickly decide against it when you see Stefan staring you down.
Damn the darkness. You had completely forgotten Stefan was here. He’s been in the background like a statue.
Once Damon’s belt is secure, he stands up and rounds you once more, this time standing much farther away.
“Brother, you like it slow. Maybe you should teach her.”
You look to Damon in surprise, then to Stefan in curiosity, wondering if he’ll agree. Damon is lenient a lot when it comes to sharing, but the one thing he’s always been strange about is that Stefan’s dick is not allowed to be anywhere near your mouth or pussy. He’s let you give Stefan a handjob while you sucked Damon’s cock, or while Stefan’s fingers were buried inside of you, but you’ve never given Stefan a blowjob.
Until now, you suppose.
Stefan’s hard and it’s obvious. He’s already unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans as he walks over to you. He pushes his jeans and underwear down once he’s in front of you, but your eyes are trained on Damon, awaiting his next order.
“Do whatever you want,” Damon says to Stefan, but his eyes are locked on yours.
You can’t believe Damon said that, so when you drag your eyes away from his, you bat your eyelashes at Stefan out of spite.
You’ve always known Stefan feels different than Damon -- not a bad different, but different. You’re used to and love the feel of Damon. Stefan doesn’t feel wrong, but he’s not your Damon.
Still, when Stefan tilts your head up with his fingers underneath your chin, you can’t help but let your mouth fall open automatically.
You keep your eyes on the younger Salvatore brother as he feeds his cock into your mouth, though you can see Damon staring at you from the corner of your eye. His arms are crossed over his chest, and you swear you can feel the anger and annoyance flowing off of him.
He can’t be that upset at you for breaking one tiny rule. But he’s Damon. Maybe he is that upset.
Stefan’s hand moves to the back of your head, gently guiding you, and this is...different.
It’s so secret that you like things rough (look at how you’re spending tonight), so to have Stefan guiding you so slowly, not even letting the head of his cock hit the back of your throat, is different.
Not to mention, it’s not even remotely satisfying. Now you understand what Damon was doing.
You hate things slow. This is torture.
Stefan is groaning and you’re squirming, not from pleasure but from boredom.
Eventually, you feel Stefan’s release flooding your mouth and you swallow it all, unfazed.
To his credit, Stefan also doesn’t seem fazed.
Damon, on the other hand, looks ready to rip Stefan’s heart out for putting his dick in your mouth — as if he didn’t tell him to.
Stefan tucks himself away and steps back, looking at Damon.
“Does she look like she’s learned her lesson?” Damon asks.
Stefan pauses, eyeing you, then shaking his head. “No.”
“Mm, thanks, Stefan.”
“Be quiet,” Damon snaps, his gaze lethal all over again.
“Or what?” You quip, shifting around to sit down on the side of your ass, as opposed to your knees like you were. “You’re gonna punish me again? Because that was hardly punishment. I was about to fall asleep.”
“Awh, poor thing,” Damon mocks you. “You need me to satisfy you, don’t you?”
“That’s not what I said,” you grumble, twisting your wrists, annoyed that you can’t get out of the belt.
“I think that’s what you want to say,” Damon says, stalking toward you. “It’s okay that you don’t have the right words. I’ll help you.”
You start squirming again when he gets closer to you, his feet almost touching his shirt.
“Up,” he orders, using the come here motion with his fingers.
He helps steady you as you stand, but his letting you stand was a big mistake.
As soon as he leans close enough to kiss you, you take off running in the opposite direction.
It isn’t long before he’s speeding after you and slamming you into a tree, his back pressed against yours, your face near milliseconds away from being busted up by tree bark.
“You should not have done that, little girl.”
The sound of Damon ripping your shirt rings in your ears, followed by the sudden sensation of cool air on your nipples as he spins you around, tossing the scraps of your shirt aside. He cages you in, both his palms pressed onto the tree right beside your neck.
“No bra? Seriously?” Damon sneers, disappointment lacing his words as he doesn’t dare glance down at your tits. His chest isn’t even pressed against yours, just one more instance of him punishing you with no touch of his.
“Thought it made things easier for you,” you smirk, but it falls into a gasp when Damon lightly smacks your cheek with the ends of his fingers.
“Be quiet,” he growls, grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “I won’t repeat myself a third time.”
You decide to obey, too entranced by the look in his eyes -- but he’s not compelling you because he would never do that to you. He never has, and he won’t start tonight.
“Now,” Damon lets go of your jaw, and his hand returns to the tree. “Since you obviously weren’t satisfied by the blowjob you gave my brother, I’ll take it you’re feeling pretty frustrated right now, yeah, Princess?”
You nod.
Damon smirks, leaning in close enough to touch your nose with his. “Good.” He pulls back. “And since I know how much you like my dick in your mouth, you don’t get to have it tonight.”
“Damon--” You start to whine, but he presses his index finger to your lips, silencing you.
“First, that’s not my name. What’s my name, Princess?”
“Daddy,” you mumble.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Damon turns his head to the side, tapping his ear. “What was that?”
“Mean Daddy,” you say this time, loud enough for him to hear. “You’re being mean.”
“That’s what happens when you break Daddy’s rules, baby. I have to be mean. Look at me,” he whispers, tipping your chin up with his index finger. “You know I love you. Don’t you?”
You nod again. “I love you too.”
“I know you do, Princess, but when you flirt with someone else, it makes me think you don’t.”
“I just wanted a free drink. That’s all.”
“And why didn’t you call me? Hm?” Damon asks. “You know I’ll always buy you a drink.”
He has a point, so you nod. You should’ve known better. You did know better, but you chose to ignore that.
“I think Daddy deserves to taste you,” Damon whispers. “Don’t you?”
You nod eagerly, a little too excited, but you can’t help it.
“How about my dear brother holds you up?” Damon inquires, looking to Stefan.
Stefan stalks over and takes you from Damon, both brothers careful to keep their hands on you at all times, lest you decide to run again. This time when Stefan holds you, he keeps an even tighter hold on you.
You should’ve known what they were up to, but you didn’t. Not right away.
The first time Damon denied your orgasm, you cried out in protest, fighting against Stefan’s hold.
“I said I deserved to taste you. Did I say you deserved to cum?” Damon asks, looking up from where he’s kneeling, his face right at your core. “Hm? Did I?”
“Answer him, sweetheart,” Stefan urges, his lips brushing against your neck, teasing you and terrifying you all at once.
Another one of Damon’s rules: your blood is his.
“No,” you whine. “No, you didn’t, Daddy.”
“Good,” Damon smirks, glad you used your words. “Now be a good girl for me and stay still.”
He dives back in the way he would if he was thirsty, and in a way, he is.
Stefan retains his hold and you try your best to stay as still as possible, taking what Damon gives you. He eats you out like a man starved -- but the thing is, he is starving. He wouldn’t have been in the right mindset to chase you or punish you like this if he hadn’t already been in a bad mood.
Like the one he gets in when he’s starving.
After the fourth denial, your muscles are quivering, and Stefan is doing all the work in holding you up, shushing your whimpers.
“Please,” you beg, too tired to fight or hold your eyes open, even. “Please, no more. No more.” You shake your head, although it’s more like you’re letting it loll back and forth on Stefan’s chest.
This time when Damon brings you to the edge of your orgasm, he pushes you over. But you’re so overworked that it’s small and not at all satisfying. When his mouth leaves you, his fingers enter you, his lips soothing your cries with small kisses on your cheeks.
“I’ve got you,” Damon whispers, taking you from Stefan.
The younger brother speeds off back to the house while Damon takes care of you.
Damon lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his hips while he unbuckles his belt from around your wrists. Once that’s gone, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
“I know, Princess, I know,” Damon shushes, shoving his jeans down. “Daddy’s got you now. Don’t worry.”
Your cries quiet down only when he’s inside of you. You rest your head on his shoulder as he slowly rocks into you, his arms holding you flush against him. The skin-to-skin contact calms you down every time without fail.
Slow thrusts soothe your whimpers, and soon your orgasm is building again. Damon thrusts as deep as he can, knowing that’s what you need right now. You love it, you need it.
He feels when you’re about to fly over the edge, so stays still, peppering kisses on your neck, leaving a hickey here and there while your walls grip him. One more thrust is all it takes for you to finally cum, satisfying your needs this time.
And when his teeth sink into your neck, you’re lulled to sleep.
+++
When you wake up, you’re in Damon’s bed, underneath the covers. He’s sitting at the end of the bed, watching you, smiling softly.
“Hi there little one,” he whispers. “You okay?”
“Mhm,” you nod, pulling the covers up under your chin. “That was perfect. Thank you.”
“Anything for the Princess,” he murmurs, leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead.
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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 7 months ago
Text
Live Stream Murderer (Part 3) | Spencer Reid x reader
Requested by @thatsonezesty13 / Summary: You’re kidnapped by the Live Stream Murderer, who is in search of his soulmate. He tortures the women for 36 hours and whoever lasts that long is in his eyes; his soulmate. Will you make it through the 36 hours of torture?
| Part 1 | Part 2 | 
A/N: Here is part 3. Sorry if there are any mistakes. I read over it I don’t know how many times, but sometimes mistakes slip through. I was too excited to get this out to y’all. I hope y’all enjoy the next part! xx 
Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx
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“The autopsy confirmed the victim is y/n y/l/n.” The coroner informs Hotch and Morgan. Hotch had ordered Spencer to head back to the sheriff’s office with the rest of the team while Hotch and Morgan went to the coroner’s office to hear the results of the autopsy done. 
He flips through the folder of the results, “her death was a result of loss of blood. She sustained different injuries but I’m quite certain that the loss of blood from the knife in the leg was what led to her death.” He hands the folder over to Hotch. 
“How did you confirm it had been her?” Morgan asked.
Your body was covered with a sheet and the coroner informed them that due to your state now, it would be best if you weren’t seen like that. 
“Fingerprints, as well as other bodily marks such as a new tattoo.” 
Hotch only glanced over the autopsy before handing back to him, “Thank you.” 
The coroner nods, “I have others to attend to..” 
Hotch and Morgan understand and decide to head back to the office where the rest of the team were. 
Spencer felt like he was having an out of body experience. Your death not only came as a shock but it had been such a horrid way and he couldn’t imagine what you had gone through, alone, in the last few hours of life. 
He kicked himself even more for knowing this could have been prevented, only if he’d stayed with you that night and gone out to the car with you. You would still be alive if he had listened to his gut. 
“Have there been any more leads?” Hotch asks as he enters the room. The Live Stream Murderer had gone silent and there hadn’t been any new victims reported missing. 
Spencer stood from his seat. He hadn’t slept at all. His hair was a tangled mess. He had bags under his eyes and his eyes were red and puffy from crying, “Did you see her?” 
Morgan gave a nod, “We did. The coroner confirmed it was her.” 
Spencer’s last bit of hope had been taken from him. He’d hoped they would be wrong and the body wasn’t yours. Maybe just someone wearing your clothes, but now that hope was crushed. His bottom lip quivered, “How? How did they confirm it was her? Did you see her yourself?” 
“He advised us that we didn’t need to see the state of her body.” Hotch informs, “She’d..” He glanced around at the team, “Her body had already started showing decay.” 
“How would you even know the body was hers then?” Spencer walked closer to Hotch, “You didn’t even see the body. What if he got it wrong? Got the wrong body? You guys wouldn’t even know because you didn’t even look!” 
Morgan stepped forward and laid a hand on his friends shoulder, “He confirmed it was her body, kid... Fingerprints and he said there was a new tattoo.” 
He could feel the gears in his brain shifting. He was exhausted, but that didn’t mean his mind wasn’t working 100%. He was confused. New tattoo? You didn’t have a new tattoo. Not one he’d seen. 
“She didn’t have any new tattoos.” Spencer slowly sat back down as his mind continued to work. 
“Maybe she had one done recently and didn’t tell anyone?” JJ suggests, “I mean, it’s not like we’re all very close to know those kind of things. She isn’t going to up and front come forward and show a new tattoo.” 
“Yeah you guys weren’t that close, but her and I were.” He looks up at his friends, “She would have told me about a new tattoo. I would have known.” 
The team wonders if Spencer’s is just grief stricken. He’d lost Maeve and now y/n. Both in horrible and traumatizing ways. He was only holding out false hope that it wasn’t your body, but they all knew the truth; it had been you. 
“You don’t know that Spencer..” Rossi says, patting Spencer on the shoulder. 
“I think it’s time for all of us to head back to the hotel and get sleep.” Hotch sighs, “We all need it.” 
Spencer stays in his seat as the world continues to move around him. The team are gathering their things and heading toward the door, but Spencer doesn’t move a muscle. The Live Stream Murderer had been so careful with past victims. Penelope was never able to pinpoint a location and she just all of a sudden does in the end? There had to be another reason behind it. 
This had been all too easy. He’d dumped previous victims in random locations and now he led the team right to it? What was the shift? Why change it now? 
“It was too easy.” 
The team stops at the door, “What’d you say, kid?” Morgan asks. 
“It was too easy.” He stands, “Why would he shift his method of dumping bodies? Why in the end change it up? We would have never found him. He made sure of that in the beginning during all the videos that even Penelope couldn’t pinpoint him. But then she just.. finds the location?” He shakes his head, “Why would he be so careless?” He points off in a random location, “he wanted us to find her body. If that’s even her body in that damn morgue! Whosever body that is, he wanted us to find it.” 
“Spence..” JJ starts. 
“Dont!” He points at JJ with a shake of his head, “Don’t you dare call me that. She was the only one to call me that.” 
“Kid, you haven’t slept in days. You’re just exhausted and grief stricken.” Morgan tries to tell him. 
“You guys are profilers, this is your job. How could you have just turned a blind eye at all these clues? He wanted us to find that body for some reason.” 
“You’re reaching pretty far, Reid. I think it’s time for you to get some sleep.” Hotch tries to reason. 
“You all think I’m crazy? Don’t you?” He gives a half hearted laugh, “that I’m just on my way to going off the deep end again because first I lost Maeve and now y/n? Maybe I wouldn’t sound so crazy if you would open your eyes and actually look at the evidence put before you.” 
The team hadn’t believed him. They’d thought of him as crazy and grief stricken; that it was pure exhaustion. But he couldn’t let this go. He wouldn’t let this go, not until he saw it for himself. 
He snuck into the morgue that night and searched for your autopsy in one of the cabinets. Reading over it, nothing made sense. New tattoo on left ankle? You’d had that tattoo on your ankle since you turned 18. There wasn’t anything new about it. 
His hands shook as he gripped the handle of your holding case. The body came sliding out on the table and he pulled on gloves before pulling the sheet back to reveal “your” body. As he looked over the body, nothing made sense at all. The injuries from the knife didn’t match up. In the video it was on your right leg, not the left. The poker never touched your shoulder, but there was the injuries. 
His eyes scanned your ankle and for sure, there was a tattoo but the tattoo was fresh, like it was brand new and not over 10 years old. There was one more thing that only confirmed his suspicious about that body not being yours; Neither shoulder had been dislocated. 
He called Hotch from the morgue right away, waking him from his sleep. “Hotch, it’s not her.” 
Hotch groaned, “Spencer, you need to get some sleep..” 
“Hotch i’m here at the morgue now. That body is not y/n’s. The tattoo she’s had since she was 18 looked brand new. The body had marks from the poker on the shoulders and Hotch..” 
Hotch sighs and rubs his eyes as he hears what Spencer is saying. 
“Hotch neither shoulder was dislocated.” 
That woke him up. He’d watched the man do it. He sat up in bed, “Spencer where are you right now?” 
“The morgue-” 
“Get out of there now. Don’t touch anything else. Put everything back where you found it.” 
“But Hotch it’s not-”
“I’m hearing you, Reid but if someone catches you in there, no one will believe you. Now get out of there and go to the station. I’ll gather the team.” 
Spencer did as instructed and put everything back the way he found it and left without a trace. 
Hotch and the rest of the team arrived just as Spencer made it back. They all regrouped and watched part of the videos over again. Sure enough, everything that Spencer had suspected was correct. No injuries to your shoulder with the poker, but that’s exactly what the copy of the autopsy said. 
“Who has access to the autopsies? It’s obviously been doctored.” Spencer says, pointing at the autopsy. 
“The only ones who can change the results are the doctors. No one else has access.” JJ says. 
“Penelope-” Hotch starts, but Penelope’s already a step ahead.
“Already on it. I’ve sent over the doctor’s files who work at that morgue.” 
The team pours over the files and only one person stands out. “His wife died right before the Live Stream Murderers began.” Penelope says, “Oh my.” 
“What is it Penelope?” Spencer asks. 
“She died in a car accident. He is quoted after the accident saying how his wife was his soulmate and thought he couldn’t find another. But hoped he could.” 
“Which doctor is it?” Morgan asks, swiping through the files on the ipad. 
“His name is Robert Baker.” Penelope confirms, sending a photo. 
“That’s the doctor we saw yesterday.” Hotch says, “He’s the one who read off the autopsy.” 
“Yeah and he also advised us not to look at her body.” Morgan adds on, “He knew we would see the different injuries that didn’t match up. He covered it up.” 
“Penelope send us-” Hotch started to ask for his address, but of course, Penelope was a step ahead. 
“Already sent to your phones.” 
It was a smaller home off the highway. It was secluded; the perfect place to keep someone hostage and no one know about it. 
He’d stitched up your wound from the knife, put medicine on the burns from the hot poker and also popped your shoulder back into place. He’d held you in this room since you made it through the 36 hours. The windows were caged and the door was locked from the outside. There would be no escaping for you. 
You were still too weak to try and fight back, so your only hope was that Spencer hadn’t given up on you. That the team hadn’t given up on you. 
Laying in that bed, you heard the door unlock and he entered the room with a tray of food. “Good morning.” He smiled happily, closing the door behind him and coming to your bedside. 
It was a hospital bed and he’d hooked you up to an IV to help with the dehydration. There was another IV but you weren’t exactly sure what it was and had your suspicious that it was some kind of medication to keep you sedated. “I hope you like cinnamon toast. I wasn’t quite sure what you liked the best.” He put the tray on the table and moved it in front of you. 
“How did you sleep? I slept well now that I found my soulmate.” He smiled as he brushed your hair back off your face. 
He jumped when he heard a door slam against the wall, “What the hell?” He muttered and stood from your bedside, taking a look out the window he saw the police cars. “They aren’t going to take my soulmate. They won’t take you. I won’t let them.” 
You helplessly watch as he turns the button up on the other IV and suddenly you felt very loopy. 
The team sweeps the house and makes their way upstairs and to the room where you’re being held captive. Spencer is the one who enters the room first and sees you.
You’re loopy but you can tell it’s Spencer. He came for you. He’s here to save you. You whimpered, trying to motion toward the door beside Spencer, but Spencer comes straight to your beside, “Y/n..” He smiles, grateful to see you. 
“behind you.” You try to say, but it comes out like gibberish. 
Spencer eyes go to the bags above you and recognizes the other medicine, immediately pulling the IV from your arm. “It’s okay. I’m here now. I’m going to take you home.” 
You looked passed him and your eyes went wide. 
The gun cocked behind him, “You’re not taking her anywhere.” 
Spencer’s body froze and he knew the danger he was now in. His eyes met yours. He wasn’t going to miss another opportunity. “I love you.” He whispered, giving you a small smile and then he slowly lifted his hands in surrender, “She’s not your soulmate.” 
“Yes she is. She survived.” He pushed the gun into the back of Spencer’s head, “She’s not leaving.” 
“I love you.” Spencer had whispered to you. You’d heard those three words that you’d wanted to hear for months. The words that had kept you alive during the torture and gave you something to look forward to. 
You had to helplessly watch as the man held Spencer at gunpoint. You’d made it this far and he’d saved you. He’d found you. This couldn’t be the way this ends. This couldn’t be the end of your story, not after he’d confessed his love here and now. 
“put your weapon down!” Morgan ordered the man. When he turned around, Morgan took the shot. 
You screamed at the sound of the gunshot and Spencer’s body shielded yours, “Shh. It’s okay. It’s okay.” 
You were sobbing as he pulled away, his hands cupping your face, “You’re okay. I’m okay. shhh.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and you could feel his lips quivering against your skin, “You’re safe. You’re safe...”  
You woke up in the hospital with Spencer by your side. He was holding your hand, but asleep in the chair. He hadn’t left your side since he found you. He carried you out of that house and held you in his arms until the ambulance arrived. Then he rode in the ambulance to the hospital and followed the nurses and doctors that took you to your room. You weren’t out of his sight at any point. 
“Spence..” You whispered hoarsely, “Spence...”  
His eyes fluttered open and they landed on you, “You’re awake.” 
“Water..” You whispered. 
He nodded and grabbed the cup of water on the bedside table, putting the straw to your lips. 
“thank you..” 
He set it back after you were done, “Do you need anything? I can go get a nurse if you’re in pain or if you’re-” 
“I just need to tell you something.” 
He sat back down in the chair and held your hand, “What’s wrong?” 
You gave his hand a weak squeeze and your eyes filled with tears, your bottom lip quivering as you stared at the man in front of you, “I love you, Spence.” 
Spencer couldn’t help the emotions that flooded him. You loved him back. You were safe and he’d found you. Ever since you started at the BAU, the two of you had a bond like no other and he knew in his heart that you weren’t gone. His heart hadn’t betrayed him. You were safe and sound in the bed in front of him, confessing your love. Life had given him a second chance and he wasn’t going to mess it up or miss another opportunity to tell you that he loved you. 
“I love you, y/n.” 
~THE END~ 
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