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peachesofteal · 2 months

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Simple Math / Part 8

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. No smut. Graphic domestic violence, physical abuse, choking. Non consensual kissing. Hospital setting, nurse!reader, medical inaccuracies. Drowning metaphors. Strong feelings of self loathing, despair, fear, anxiety. Suicidal ideation. Crying. Panic attacks. Bun is unraveling. Comfort. Protective Simon and Johnny. Things are happening.

The girl in the mirror hates you.

It’s easy to tell, by the way she stares, how her eyes glow in the yellow fluorescents of the staff bathroom.

You make her sick.

Your weakness, your stupidity, has cost her, again. As if it hasn’t cost her enough at this point, as if it hasn’t drained her dry over and over until she thought she would die.

Until she thought she wanted to die.

Someone knocks on the bathroom door.

“Occupied.” You snap, and they huff, turning away to go who knows where.

You peek back over to the girl in the mirror. She still stares at you in disdain, but now it’s more expectant, more… intrigued, like she’s asking, well… what are you going to do?

“What are you going to do, sugar?” Phillip’s hands tighten around your neck, white teeth gleaming in the afternoon sun of your apartment. The sound of your windpipe being crushed echoes inside your eardrums, and you flail uselessly, struggling, kicking and hissing and crying to no avail. “Where are you going to run next?” Black spiderweb strings along the outside of your vision, and your palm slaps against his forearm, a pathetic endeavor, as always.

He’s too strong. Too determined.

You’re an ant. He’s a shoe.

You’re an early high school grad, on an academic scholarship at school your mom couldn’t afford, and he’s the charismatic grandson of a Texan oil tycoon, the son of a judge, living in a fancy house without roommates in the city.

You want to be a doctor. He wants a housewife.

You want to be a mother; he promises to beat them out of you.

You want a life in the sun. He wants to become a shadow himself.

“Phillip.” You wheeze, air snaking through your teeth. He lowers his ear, like he can’t hear you, a mocking bow that you know he relishes.

“What’s that?”

“Can’t- breathe-“ The sigh that answers you is what you imagine a disappointed father sounds like, followed by a tsk, an over developed dramatic show that you’ve come to know so well, and he throws you to the ground in one motion, shoulder smacking against the hard wood floor.

There’s a tear of muscle. An immediate soreness. Stars dance in your vision.

“Gotta hand it to you, princess. You were hard to find this time.”

You don’t have an answer for the girl in mirror.

Even with the turtleneck and the very good makeup, it’s bad. There is no doubt, someone will notice.

And then there will be questions. Nonstop questions, personal questions, private questions. Questions from your boss and an HR rep behind a closed door somewhere, invasive, mandated reporting, logical questions that you must have answers for.

You chew your lip.

It’s not so obvious, maybe, with the turtleneck. The long sleeve under your scrub top covers the tender flesh on your neck, your shoulder, your forearm. It’s second nature, how easily you hide, how perfectly they tuck away, little stories beaten into your skin for no one else but you to feel.

Except for your orbital and cheek bones.

These are blatant. The ball cap pulled down over most of your face hid them well enough on your way in but now... inflamed, angry skin swells beneath your eye, and while it looks okay, you guess, when you get close, it’s obvious that something is wrong. The foundation and failed attempt at contour can only do so much.

It’s shocking to realize you’re actually mad at him for it.

For being so impulsive.

So sloppy.

But then again, wasn’t that your fault?

You’re bold. Bolder than ever before. Closer to the top of your breaking point now, angry and beaten down and dying in the black of a bottomless pit. Unable to escape. Unable to climb out.

You’ve been falling inside it for years, and it’s all you ever do.

Fall.

And you’re so, so tired. All you want, is for it to end.

“That was sick, even for you, Phillip. What are you, some kind of freak? Jerking off all over your ex girlfriend’s-“ The backhand is swift. It rockets across your face, combination of it’s force and the sting making your head spin, and you stumble.

When you lurch, he presses close, chest to your side, strong fingers digging into your forearm so tight it hurts.

“Don’t say that.” His lips drag across your cheek, insult to injury where he struck you. They press together in a kiss, a foul, rancid piece of affection, making your stomach turn.“You know I don’t when you call yourself that. I don’t like when you lie, sweet thing. It’s not very nice.”

“It’s not a lie, you Texarkana hillbilly fuck, it’s the tru-“ You’re up against the wall in a single movement, arm twisted so hard you cry out, and he shoves you into place until he’s got you where he likes, face to face, nose to nose.

“There’s my spitfire. Knew she was in there somewhere.” The nickname almost makes your retch. It’s a flicker of a memory, of yourself before the grave of your now life, the fateful twist that is Phillip Graves.

“I hate you.” You spit. His eye twitches, and he looks every bit the insane man you know him to be.

Because this... this is Phillip having fun. This is Phillip playing with his food. Phillip and his toy.

This is not Phillip’s crazed rage. This is not suit and tie Phillip, rip your hair out from the roots Phillip, beat you until you’re unrecognizable Phillip.

This isn’t the Phillip who slaughters innocent people. Who murders entire towns for pleasure.

For a very short moment, your mind drifts to Simon and Johnny. You wonder what they’re doing right now, if they’ve already had their lunch, if Penny visited today. If maybe she napped with her Da safe and snuggled, sweet and asleep dreaming of sugar plums. You think about the light in Johnny’s eyes from last night, the way he looked at his daughter, and Simon, and even you. You remember the press of Simon’s mask covered lips on your forehead, a sweet, comforting piece of affection that you’ve already locked inside your heart.

You float there. In those feelings, those memories.

You wish they were here. You wish they could help you.

The acknowledgement is terrifying. It happens so fast, hardly a second, but in that time, horror shivers down your spine.

You’d put them in danger, for yourself. Your selfish, stupid self.

Phillip’s mouth hovers over yours, and you swallow the gag rising in your throat.

“I can’t stay.” He whispers, pseudo-gentle kisses adorning your nose, your cheek again. “It’s really rotten luck, honestly, you showing back up here today. I was just saying my see you laters.” You’re not religious, but the thoughts come easily regardless. Oh god, thank god. Thank fucking god. You have a chance.“I know you’ll be here when I get back, won’t you? I’m tired of chasing you around the world, sugar.” He gives you another wet, closed lip kiss, and your jaw trembles. “If you’re not, it’ll be that much worse for ya.”

You can do this.

It’s not anything you haven’t done before.

Deep breath. You can do this.

Stepping outside the bathroom is like taking your first steps as a child. You’re slow, pushing through the burn in your side, the sore agony in your shoulder, the torn cartilage you’re sure is the cause the of the pain in your shoulder.

You can do this.

Get it together. Get yourself together. You’re not going far.

You make it down the hall without running into anyone, and once you reach the on-call room, you’re breathing long sighs of relief, sliding the lock into place after the door shuts behind your back.

Two black duffels sit on the floor, staring at you. Mocking you, just like the girl in the mirror.

What are you going to do?

The receptionist is calling your name.

You ignore her, trying to make it to the elevators, almost breaking into a run even though you’re in pain, your face throbbing, neck sore beyond belief.

“Sorry, can you-“ Intercepted on your path, she gasps. “Oh my god, what happened?”

“I was mugged.” It’s a point-blank response, even though you sound like a frog or a piece of roadkill, and it brokers no argument. You look at her with the flattest gaze imaginable, dissuading her from saying anything else.

“I- I’m sorry. We’ve been trying to call you.” The hair on the back of your neck rises.

“For what?”

“We need your room. There’s been a block reserved, and it includes the floor you're on. I'm... sorry.” You’re not able to contain your shock, mouth dropping open, heart cracking into tiny pieces.

On top of everything. Now this.

The receptionist peeks at you nervously, waiting on pins and needles for a response.

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning, I’m afraid. I’m so sorry. The hotel apologizes, the block is paying for a higher rate and-“

“It’s fine, really. I needed to check out anyway.” You know it’s not her fault. Hell, you’d be surprised if it wasn’t the hotel’s fault either. It’s not like Phillip wouldn’t move heaven and earth to force you out of hiding. He's more than capable of finding out where you’re staying.

She gives you another apologetic look before scurrying away, and the elevator doors finally enclose around you, a tidal wave of despair swelling in your heart, dropping you to your knees with gut wrenching sobs.

You’re crying again. Curled up in the on-call bed, your shoulders shake in hysteria, tears and panic overwhelming everything you have left, swallowing you until you can’t see the surface anymore.

Your throat burns. Breathing is like rubbing sandpaper down the back of your tongue, and you wheeze when you try to take deep breaths, shoulder shrieking in misery every time you shift.

You have to get it together. You have to work in an hour.

But you can’t. You dig deep and try, desperately working to pull something forward, something sane and controlled, but there’s nothing to be found, only acid in your throat. The hysteria mounts. It catches the wind and flies down the hill, crashing into you over and over until your hands are clenched together so tight, even they hurt.

You fucking idiot. You waited too long. You ran out of time.

You’re dead.

“Oh my god.” Nia covers her mouth, eyes wide. You hold up a palm.

“It looks way worse than it actually is.” Another nurse peeks around her shoulder, and gasps.

“What happened to you?”

“I was mugged yesterday, getting off the train.”

“Oh my god!”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“Did you tell the police?”

“Yes, I did.” You assuage them to the best of your ability, reassuring their worry. “I filed a report, and they didn’t get anything important. I’m okay. Really.” And then the kicker: “I would tell you if I wasn’t.” You glance at everyone, four or five now, gathered around, and lay on the final piece of the puzzle. False familiarity and the ever present desire to be relevant. “Wouldn’t I, Nia?” You gesture around to expectant faces as if to say, tell them, and she readily agrees.

“Yeah, she totally would.”

Everyone pretty much leaves you alone after that. Patients need checks, meds, all of the usual stuff. You assure Nia once more in private, promising that you’re okay, and she reluctantly leaves you alone too, once you swear up and down.

The only thing that doesn’t leave you alone, is your cellphone.

>Hey, just wanted to check in, see how your day off was yesterday?

>Bunny :)

There are a few others, alternating like above, Simon first, then Johnny. Asking if you got some rest, if you’re okay, and then a promise not to push.

You ignore them.

You ignore the feeling in your chest at the sight of their incoming text messages, the proof of their care.

You ignore the way it feels to know they’re only a floor below you.

You ignore the fact that when you got here today, all you wanted to do was run to Johnny’s room and settle in that chair next to his bed, curl up close to them, where there’s love, where there’s warmth.

You ignore it at all.

Get it together. You have a job to do.

Simon appears at the pit three hours into your shift. There’s no one around, everyone trying to take breaks, cover breaks, or deal with whatever emergency is happening in the moment, except you.

And when you round the corner and spot him, waiting, it takes your breath away.

Half of your reaction is pure fear. The last thing you want is for him to see you like this. Beaten. Broken. Ugly.

The other half is… something pure. Something enamored. He came up here, why? Is he worried because you didn’t answer? Do they care?

Still-

You start to turn on your heel, eyes flipping wide and panic startling your heart. You’re barely a shadow, a clip of a person on the other end of the hall and yet-

“Hey, there you are.”

Fuck. The acid starts to rise all over again. You keep your face tilted down towards the floor.

Maybe you can pretend you don’t hear him. You leap back around the corner, practically running towards the on-call room, where your life sits in two black bags, waiting.

You can’t do this. You can’t face them, let them see.

Something desperate gnaws in the pit of your soul, a howl that begs you to turn back and let him in, let them both in, tell them everything.

It’s selfish, and cruel.

It’s unfair.

He calls your name. You still don’t answer. Your scrub pants swish together as you jog, trying to get away, but the effort is in vain. He’s too quick, long strides overtaking yours at a brisk walk, and just before you reach the door, he positions his body in front of the handle, an immovable wall.

There’s a long moment of silence. You stare up into his face, wide eyed, horrified.

You know what he’s seeing. A failure. A moron. A mess.

To his credit, his expression does not change. His brow does not furrow. He only stares at you, frozen, slow thawing fury finally glowing in his eyes after a centuries’ long minute.

He reaches, time standing still, the back of his fingers stroking the lightest touch against your tender cheek, and his voice is almost unrecognizable behind the mask when he snarls,

“Who did this to you?”

The tears come in a flood. You don’t understand why the breakdown comes in this moment, why everything crashes into a million little pieces, until you feel a strong, careful arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a broad, warm chest, face tenderly nestled into a black hoodie. It feels… safe. Like a home you haven’t had in a long, long time. Like something you never thought you’d feel again.

Maybe it’s a moment of weakness. Maybe it’s your downfall, another thing for the girl in the mirror to be angry with you about, you’re not sure. You’re not sure about anything except this feeling, this feeling that lights up your heart in an explosion of fireworks, fear and panic and anxiety soothing into sadness, into a homesick feeling for a love, a life you’ve never had.

Maybe it’s a moment of weakness, when you sob his name, when you go limp against him and he holds you steady, a cheek atop your head, soft words washing over you in a whisper.

Maybe it’s a moment of weakness, but right now, you can’t seem to care.

Johnny is distraught.

Simon brings you into his room, still tucked into his side. He’s careful with you, telegraphing all his movements, letting you know where he’s going, reverence rich in his touch like he’s handling glass.

“What in the-“

“Bun says she was mugged.” Simon tells him, and you miss whatever is happening over your bowed head, hands shaking with nerves all over again. “She assures me she’s not hurt but-“

“I’m fine.” You croak, and Johnny jerks, mouth half open in disbelief. The light is dim, casting short shadow across his face, his sweet eyes drenched in worry, and you stand at the foot of his bed, tears waiting on your waterline. “I’m okay, they didn’t really get anything, and I-“

“Come here.” He cuts you off, raising both arms, extending them as wide as he can manage, scooting his hips to the side. It’s a feat, but he hides the grimace of pain well. When you don't budge, he repeats himself, firmly the second time. “Bunny. Come here.”

The shame burns, entrenched in you so deep, you know you’ll never be able to cut it out, and your tears fall unbidden, encouraged by the hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach, your heart, an ache that you need soothed so desperately.

You’re out of control. You’re losing your grip.

You had a moment of weakness but this… this is too much.

“Please, pretty girl.” He whispers, reaching you where no one else can. Speaking to you through the fog of your doubt, your hatred, your fear.

Your hands shake as you reach for his, and when you sit beside him, hip to thigh, he looks at you like he’s staring at someone other than the person who used to be his nurse. He’s looking at you the way you catch him looking at Simon sometimes. Bright gaze full of love. Of worry.

“I’m okay.”

“No, ye’re not.” He shakes his head. “Ye’re not. This is not okay.” The way he says it feels like he knows, like he understands, and you swallow dry, breathing ragged and shallow. It turns frantic, and he squeezes your knee gently, redirecting your attention. “Hey, shhh. It’s okay. Ye’re safe with us.” Simon sits on the arm of the chair, directly next to the bed.

“Do you need to count your breaths?” He cuts directly to the quick. Will this provide you relief? Will this stop the pain? The agony?

No.

“N-no.” You gasp.

“Okay. Just try to breathe, everything’s alright."

I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just this- this happened and then I found out I had to find a new place to stay, and I st-still haven’t, so I have to sleep in the on call room, and I don’t-“

“Whoa, okay. Slow down.” Simon soothes, hand slowly sliding up and down your spine. You relax into it, marginally, clocking the subtle upward tick of Johnny’s lips, firm line shifting into a small smile, and then turning cross.

“What do ye mean, ye dinnae have a place to stay?”

“My apartment-“ is trashed. Is a scene of a crime. Is a hollow rib cage housing a dead heart. “is being renovated so I’ve been living in a hotel,” Johnny nods, like he knows. Of course he does. What secrets do they have between? Probably none. “But someone reserved a whole block and there’s no vacancies, so I had to check out this morning.” It’s pathetic, the way you’re crying over this, the way you feel, but it’s all so forlorn in this moment, and you can't stop yourself from falling deeper and deeper into a well of despair, hopelessness dragging you to the bottom, trying to drown you. “It’s not a big deal but-“

“It is a big deal.” Johnny declares. “Ye had somethin’ horrible happen to ye, and now this on top of it?” Simon shifts, flat palm and fingers pushing down through the air, and you barely catch it from the corner of the eye. It’s the same kind of sign you give someone when you want them to slow down, and you blink.

What’re you doing?

“I… I’m fine.” You wince at the croak in your voice, last menthol infused cough drop wearing off, bringing back the raw pain in your windpipe, the gravel grit of bruising in your voice.

“It’s okay to be upset, bun. Anyone would be.” You wipe your face, chasing away the tracks of tears and trying not to wince when you straighten your back.

“I know, but I’m okay. Really.”

“Ye cannae stay in an on-call room.” What?

“Oh… it’s fine. It,” wouldn’t be the first time. “It’s not a big deal.” Simon is watching you, focused with that same blazing intensity that feels like he’s digging around inside your skull.

“Why don’t you stay with us?”

“What?” You blurt. “No. No, I… I couldn’t. It’s not-“

“Appropriate?” Simon finishes, head cocked. “Johnny isn’t your patient anymore.”

“And we have plenty o’ room. Penny’s still staying with Price’s a lot, because Simon’s here all the time, so it’d be nice and quiet for ye.” Say no. Tell them no.

“I couldn’t. It’s… you hardly know me. You’d invite me to live in your house?” Incredulously, you stare at them, flicking back and forth between two expectant, understanding faces.

“We know ye. Ye try to hide yerself from us, bun, but… ye cannae. Ye light up every room ye step foot in, and I dinnae think we would have made it through this without ye. Ye’re special to us, even if ye cannae accept it.” He winks. “Yet.”

“We want to help, sweetheart. Let us help you.” You’re between a rock and a hard place. An immovable force, and object. Two wills, locking in around you.

But instead of a cage, it’s warm. It’s gentle. It’s… safe.

“I couldn’t encroach.” You’re on autopilot, mouth making sounds that your heart protests. Simon sighs.

“You’re not encroaching. We’re inviting you.”

You would be putting them in danger.

“I… I can’t.”

“Why?” Johnny’s still got his hand on yours, and he squeezes, carefully. “Talk to us, bunny.”

“Tell us what’s really going on.” Simon is grave, and for a second, air gets stuck in your lungs, fighting to escape.

You cannot tell them. No matter what. You can’t. The turtleneck is too tight, cotton and polyester scratching at your sore skin, and you shiver.

“There… there’s n-nothing going on. What if the people that mugged me,“ come back to finish the job? Track me down? Words die on your tongue, the lamest attempt to push them back withering away. Simon is having none of it.

“We’re special forces, love. No one is going to get to you while you’re with us." He pauses, trapping you, holding you in stasis, and when he repeats himself, it's a dark vow, a promise. "No one.”

If you do this. You have to tell them.

You can trust them. They’ve proven that so far, haven’t they?

You hardly know them.

But isn’t that better?

“I…” Your hand raises instinctively to your throat, and Johnny’s eyes narrow.

“Bunny.” He leans forward at the waist, slow as to not hurt himself, and you sit, frozen, bug eyed, transfixed on his hand that are stretching towards your turtleneck.

You should stop him. You should tell him to back off. You should do something.

You can't. You don't. You sit there, waiting for the discovery. Waiting for the shame.

Once he hooks his pointer finger in the top and tugs, it’s over.

Your heart stops in your chest. Johnny burns, dragon flame and rage, incineration boiling over in his body.

“Bleedin’ christ.” He hisses.

“Fucking hell.” Simon echoes, and you close your eyes. You know the tender skin looks bad. Swollen. Angry.

“Please.” You whisper, lower lip quivering, floodgates trying to burst into pieces. “Please I… I can’t talk about it. I c-can’t, I can’t-“

“Okay, okay. Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe now, sweetheart. You’re safe.” You’re crying violently, unable to see, trying to rasp out apologies, and Simon stands, tucking you back into his chest, big hand on the back of your head. Johnny keeps his touch at your back, consistent, reassuring pressure that rubs from the top of your spine down, and he hums delicate, affectionate phrases lilting in heavy Scots’.

The girl in the mirror screams at you inside your head. She calls you a fool. A coward. She tells you the truth, that you’ll only get them hurt, that you know better.

You don’t disagree with a single thing. You know all this to be true.

But for a moment… would it be so bad to indulge? To have one- two good things in your life, even if it’s fleeting. Even if you know how it will end, can you not just have this for yourself, in this suspended moment of time, this chance?

You want it. Them. So desperately, it swells and aches and tugs at you, just as they do.

Time ticks forward, and you do not pull away. You don't try to hide, or evade. You just... exist. Between them. The rock and the hard place.

“Alright?” Simon murmurs, your tears now stopped, only delicate sniffles sounding from his chest. You nod, shifting backward to take them both in.

“I… if you’ll have me, I’ll… I’ll stay, until I can find a place.” Inky dark shadow flickers across Simon’s face, but sunlight chases it away, happiness crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

“Are ye sure?” Johnny is hopeful, bright, and beautiful, and you tighten your grasp on his hand, holding it like you’ll never let go. You take a deep breath-

You take the plunge.

A moment in the sun.

“I’m sure.”

#simple math #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #john mactavish #phillip graves

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yandere-daydreams · 1 month

Text

file #3: the foot fic.

part of the FREAK SHIT MARCH evidence packet.

pairing: yandere!nanami kento x reader (jjk)

length: 2.1k.

warning: non/con, fem!reader, oral sex (f. receiving), foot jobs, unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of kidnapping, unbalanced power dynamics, and cannot mention it enough: feet.

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d ended up here.

Which was to say, you weren’t entirely sure how you’d ended up in this position, not this physical location – the small kitchen of Nanami’s up-until-recently neglected apartment, back pressed against the rounded edge of a pristine marble countertop and hands clasped so tightly in front of you that your knuckles were beginning to turn white. That, you could explain in fifteen words or less: Psychotic Ex-Boyfriend Kidnaps Overly Trusting Partner To Roleplay Repressed Domestic Fantasies, with further elaboration possible if you ever got the chance to talk to anyone who wasn’t currently holding you hostage. That, as much as you hated it, was normal. You knew why you were here.

It was much less normal to have Nanami on one knee in front of you, head bowed and one of your feet sitting in the palm of his hand. You hadn’t decided whether it was good abnormal or bad abnormal, yet, but still – not normal.

It must’ve been a rough day. He always looked tired when he got home, but tonight, he seemed exhausted – blond hair in a state of styled disarray, tie gone and shirt already partially unbuttoned, the circles under his eyes just a shade darker than they had been that morning. There was a cut on his cheek, too, and a tear along the wrist of his sleeve. Usually, he would’ve tried to get you to fuss over the damage, to trade privileges like a few minutes of T.V. and the latest news about your friends and family and not being handcuffed to his bed whenever he couldn’t watch you himself for sex and domestic labor and the faux-reciprocation of his obsession, but you hadn’t been able to say anything, let alone do anything before he’d fallen into his current position at your feet, his cheek resting gingerly against the inside of your thigh and his pale face slightly pink. He hadn’t said anything, either. You were starting to think he never would.

Unable to find an explanation written on the back of his head, you turned your attention to yourself. You’d been thinking about what you were going to make for dinner when he got home, because cooking meant he had to trust you with something more dangerous than a plastic spoon and you couldn’t go back to not being able to hold your own toothbrush, even if that meant having to trip over yourself to play housewife with your captor. You were dressed for housework, but that didn’t mean much. Nanami picked out all of your clothes, and he liked you in soft, pastel silk gowns and cutesy, garish vintage dresses. Your current dress was far from overly provocative – the neckline above your collarbones, the skirt falling to your knees. He’d seen you in it before, too, and never had this reaction.

The only new factor was your socks, but that would’ve been ridiculous. It was a new pair – a far cry from the thigh-highs and nylon stockings he usually bought for you. The material was thick and white and cottony, only ankle-high with ribbed hems and a lace trip. He was cupping the arch of your foot, his hand slotted in the tender space between the heel and the upper sole, and the plush fabric rubbed uncomfortably against your skin as he shifted his hold ever so slightly downward. More out of reflex than anything, you jerked back, your toes curling downward as you tried to weakly pull yourself out of his hold, and as if pulled out a trance, Nanami snapped up at you, tired eyes weary and lips slightly parted. Your eyes met his, and for a second, it was all you could do to stay still, to stay quiet, to not yell or scream or thrash until finally, Nanami’s weary expression broke into a slight grin, an airy laugh trickling past his lips as his stare fell back to your foot. “They’re… cute,” he started, slowly, nuzzling his cheek gingerly against your thigh. “I knew they would be, but—” A pause, a kiss to the tender patch just above your knee. “—you always manage to surprise me.”

You managed to smile shakily. “Sorry, Kento, I didn’t mean to distract you. Why don’t you sit somewhere a little more comfortable? I can start on—”

“In a minute.” Another hand was brought up and wrapped around your ankle, just above the lace trim of your sock. His forehead settled against your thigh as he lifted your foot gently and with an almost painful sort of delicacy, pressed the sole of your foot into the bulging tent in his pants that you’d been trying so hard to ignore. You felt his lazy grin press into your skin, and something cracked open in your chest.

This time, you couldn’t stifle your immediate reaction; lurching back, your hands finding the edge of the counter as you tried to pull away from him. It took nothing for him to keep you in place, though, and even worse – the ball of your heel pressed into his shaft as you tried to get away, rolling against his cock with a little too much force and drawing a low grunt from the base of Nanami’s throat. Instantly, you regretted moving at all. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Again.”

You fell silent. His head lulled forward, pressing into your thigh, and somehow, you managed to spit something out. “…I’m sorry, Kento?”

“Again, angel, please,” he muttered, his eyes falling shut. You didn’t move, but he didn’t need you to – his hips jutting forward, grinding stiltedly against the sole of your foot. Any vague illusion of wholesomeness was forgotten entirely as he fell onto his knees, unabashedly rutting against your leg with all the shame and all the pride of a stray animal, desperate for its twisted idea of affection. You made a half-hearted attempt to distract yourself, to focus on the white tiles of his kitchen (not quite dirty, but not as clean as they could be, either – you’d have to do the floors tomorrow), then the far wall (there was a layer of dust along the edge of the light switch fame – you could take care of that later on tonight), but it would’ve been impossible not to think about the wet, hot breath fanning over your thigh, the stiff cock throbbing against your foot. You thought would’ve gotten used to his—uh, his unwanted attention by now, gone numb to the feeling of his mouth on your neck and his fingers on your clit, but this was a type of fresh humiliation you weren’t familiar with, the kind of unthinkable debasement that made your face heat-up and your thought spiral down, down, down. When your paralysis persisted, Nanami grit his teeth, rocked your foot against the length of his cock without ever letting his hips stop moving – like he was trying to fuck a hole through your heel. It was a rough, jagged motion; almost clumsy, despite the fact that you’d never seen him so much as trip. It might’ve left you off-balance, if you hadn’t been holding onto the counter so tightly. You might’ve fallen, if you thought that you would be enough to make him stop.

You shut your eyes, forcing yourself to suck in a shuddering breath, but that was a mistake – showing any kind of weakness was a mistake. You felt one of his groping hands on your upper thigh, then your ass, finally finding the thin, flimsy material of your panties and pulling. There was no elegant way to strip you down, so he didn’t try to be elegant. There was a harsh tearing sound, the feeling of blunt nails scraping against unprotected skin, and then, scraps of ruined material were scattered on the floor at your feet, the skirt of your dress pushed up to your waist as he forced his face between your legs, mouth already open and tongue already lapping over your cunt.

It was a bad position; the distance too far, the angle too sharp, everything about strained and awkward and unnecessary, but Nanami didn’t seem to notice, didn’t seem to care. His tongue ran over the length of your slit before he latched onto your clit and sucked. Instantly, it was too much – a strangled cry tearing past your lips as you buckled into yourself, your knees nearly giving out as another reverberating moan sent pangs of something sharp and electric stabbing into your core. Against your better judgement, your hands shot from the counter to his hair, your fingers soon knotted in a mess of blonde in a futile attempt to pry him away from you. He only melted into your hostile touch, one of his hands remaining on your ankle while the other found your hip, keeping you still and pliable as his attention dipped lower, the flat of his tongue pushing broad patterns into your entrance as the bridge of his nose ground lazily against your clit. “Love you,” he mumbled, his voice little more than a throaty, ragged murmur – almost too deep to be audible and constantly interrupted by the sound of your slick on his lips, on his tongue. You wished he wouldn’t talk. You wished he wouldn’t pretend to love you. You wished he wouldn’t force you to do the same. “You’re so—so pretty, and so perfect, and—”

A guttural moan cut him off, and his attention shifted, his head lulling back just far enough to stare up at you with eyes so soft and so tender, you could almost forget he was humping your leg like a bitch in heat. You were suddenly aware of your own distraught expression – all grit teeth and misty eyes, misery and pleasure flooding through your veins in tandem. You wanted to ask him not to look at you. You needed to ask him to stop, but—

You felt a frigid ache in your left wrist – the wrist he’d kept shackled to the bedpost for the first three weeks of your kidnapping. You tried to open your mouth, but your tongue was deathly dry, your throat stuffed with cotton, the feeling not entirely unsimilar to the residue left behind by the velvet gags he used to shove in your mouth when you didn’t want to lay there and let him break you. You couldn’t say anything, couldn’t do anything as he let out a final, primal groan – as you felt something thick and hot soak through the fabric of his dress pants and into your ridiculous, childish socks. He whined into your cunt, fingers burrowing into your waist as he dragged you that much closer to his mouth. His tongue fucked shallowly into your cunt, and a whine caught in your throat as your vision burnt white, as you came unwillingly on his tongue.

You couldn’t do it, anymore. With his hand still on your hip, his cum still searing into the sole of your foot, you collapsed. Nanami caught you before you hit the ground, and you hated him for it. You wished he’d let you crumble to the tile floor, wished he’d just watch and laugh as you curled into a ball and stayed there for the rest of the night, the rest of the week. You wished he’d—

Oh, god, you’d made yourself cry. Nanami let out a breathy chuckle as you sniffled and tried not to wail, kissing your tear-stained cheeks with a gentleness you couldn’t seem to link to the man who’d just cum to a pair of socks. “It’s alright, angel. You can let it out.” Another kiss, this one to your forehead. “Too much?”

You nodded, burying your face in his shoulder. You felt his arms wrap around you, keeping your body pressed into his chest as he pushed himself to his feet. There were a few seconds of quiet, unthinking solace before he lowered you onto your shared bed – a pair of shackles still hanging, unlocked and waiting, from the headboard. Immediately, you scrambled for the nearest pillow, burying your face in the plush material and sobbing openly. Nanami’s comfort came in the form of a wry grin, a pair of hands on your hips, turning you onto your stomach and starting on the buttons of your dress.

As he settled between your legs, his calloused fingertips skirting over your bare skin, you couldn’t help but wonder if the shackles had really been so bad.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #yandere jjk #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #yandere nanami #yandere nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader

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star-sim · 3 months

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my love (mine all mine) ☆ jake sim

☆ non-idol! jake x fem! reader ☆ summary: after years of abuse, jake is afraid of love, so why do you have to be so warm? ☆ genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, implied adult! au, very domestic ☆ warning(s)? domestic violence and abuse, poor parenting, 1 mention of self harm, implied mention of suicide, kinda indulgent sorry ☆ word count: 1.5k

The earliest memory that Jake had was the sound of porcelain plates crashing against the tiled kitchen floor, and the wails of his mother.

For a period of time, it was all that he could remember: going home to a cold house, hand-in-hand with his older brother, his heart pounding in his chest as his young mind wondered if Dad was going to hurt Mom again, or if they'd go back to loving each other tonight.

He couldn't have been any older than nine when he experienced the wrath of his father first-hand, when he came to school in May wearing a long-sleeve shirt and long pants as if the early-summer weather wasn't rising, the scent of citrus filling the air. Sure, the bruises, and later scars (because of course, his father just had to try to stab him with a broken beer bottle), hurt, but nothing would compare to the silence that rang through the house after a screaming match. It would pierce his ears every single time, so loud that it was deafening, yet so silent that Jake could hear every single breath that his mother took as she pulled at her hair, driving blades into her skin, ignoring the quiet rumble of her child's stomach.

He'd gone to bed hungry many times. Too many times.

But, perhaps the worst memory that Jake had was the morning after his seventeenth birthday. Jake spent his birthday outside the house, not wanting to be suffocated by the taste of salty tears and domestic violence in the air. He came back late, much later than he should have.

Thank god, neither of his parents were home, and his brother was already off to college by then. When they weren't screaming at each other, physically assaulting their son, or neglecting him, his parents were either off to work, or hanging out with their sketchy friends, drinking all of their responsibilities (like their children) away like nothing else mattered.

Or so he thought.

Because the next thing he knew, his mother was shrieking at him, hitting him with the same hands that should have been cradling his face. And when his bastard of a father heard the commotion, it was almost like he was excited, excited to have an excuse to put his son in a chokehold. It seemed like the only time that his parents wanted to agree with each other was when they could hurt him.

As his lungs closed in on him, his choked breaths gasping for air while Jake tried to pry his father's hands off his neck, he felt light-headed, a fuzzy feeling filling his head until his body lost all its strength.

Jake swore that he would have died that night, if it weren't for the barks of the family dog.

If his perception of family, love, and marriage wasn't already warped, that early morning of his seventeenth birthday did.

He vowed to himself then and there, that he would never get married, nor would he ever start a family.

Yet, as you held him in your arms, enveloping him with warmth as hot tears streamed down his face, Jake could feel all his resolve slipping away.

Indeed, his vow held up. It held up all throughout college and for years into his adulthood. He became known as the "single friend," the friend that was always the designated driver because he'd rather die than consume a drop of alcohol.

But then you pranced your way into his life.

You, with your beautiful face. You, with the brightest smile that he'd ever seen. You, with the softest, most gentle touch.

When you wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing tender kisses against the nape of his neck as you giggled a soft,"I love you," Jake's heart pummeled to his stomach.

It was suffocating.

His hands were clammy, so moist with sweat that he had to wipe his palms on his jeans. His chest would pound, loud enough for it to be the only sound filling his ears. His stomach twisted, a hot coil curling in his abdomen. It was nauseating.

But the worst was what he felt in his throat.

Something wicked— Something overwhelming and painful— clambered up his throat. It wrapped itself around his neck, pulling tight like the noose his mother threatened to put around her own neck. When it crawled up to his mouth, Jake nearly threw it up. He tried to swallow it down, but he gagged.

And it was already too late.

He'd already muttered the words, "I love you, too" back.

Love was terrifying. If he loved, what would happen? Would he get married, and enter a life of pure misery?

And what if he had kids?

When Jake was angry and he looked in the mirror, he hated the way that all he saw was his father's eyes staring back at him. His mother always told him that he looked like his father anyway.

Jake knew he wouldn't. He would never lay a finger on another person, let alone his own kin. But as days and years passed, his voice only sounded more and more like his own father's. He couldn't help the way his expressions scarily resembled his mother's, the same ones that he'd seen contort into fear, wrath, and indifference.

But here he was.

In the dark, his face was buried in your shoulder, the same ones that he'd kissed. You patted his back as he let out sobs, wet and salty tears wetting your skin.

It was another night, where you and him would hang out and flirt in your apartment, maybe do a little kissing.

Maybe he shouldn't have laid down with you. Maybe he shouldn't have let you put your fingers in his hair, stroking it gently as he laid on your chest. Maybe he shouldn't have listened to your every word as you traced his face, muttering to him everything about him that you loved about him. He shouldn't have, he really shouldn't have. Especially when you ended it all with a kiss to his eyelids, whispering into his ear, "I can't wait to marry you one day."

Jake always did his best to contain his emotions. After all, he'd learn to do it so well because of his home life. No one had to know about his struggles.

Yet he couldn't help the wave of emotions that crashed down on his shoulders. One moment, he was smiling in your kiss, the next his face was wet.

It didn't help when you were so warm to him. You cradled his face, kissing his tears away, hands holding him like he was a piece of glass.

"I'm scared," was all he could say.

Because that was all he felt in that moment.

Fear.

Fear, because he couldn't figure out why he was crying.

Fear, because now all his emotions were spilling out.

Fear, because you said you wanted to marry him.

Fear, because he, too, wanted to marry you.

You didn't let him go that night.

You stayed there with him, letting him cry into your shoulder until the sun rose. You didn't know why exactly, but the way he gripped your waist like you'd leave him was enough to tell you.

"I know, I know," you'd whispered into his ear. "I know, Baby."

All he did in response was pull you closer, and chant your name like it was a prayer, like you were his god and he was your worshiper.

Jake's favorite memory was the sound of wailing.

Not the wailing of his mother, not the wailing of his older brother, but the wailing of the child in your arms.

He could only watch with misty eyes as the small newborn clung to your chest, loud crying filling the hospital room.

"Jakey," you said weakly, flashing him a smile. "Look what we made."

We.

That's right.

This child was his and yours. As he held the baby, being careful not to do anything stupid, Jake stared into its crying eyes (as if his eyes weren't crying, too).

When Jake looked at his child, he saw his eyes. He saw the same eyes that his own father gave him. He wasn't filled with fear, or anger, or guilt— he felt love.

This child didn't have his father's angry eyes, the eyes that Jake spent his entire life believing he inherited.

No, this child had Jake's eyes, Jake's eyes that were filled with love.

You giggled softly as you watched your husband's intent and utterly fascinated gaze at your child. He snapped his head up at you.

"I love you," he blurted. He didn't say it a lot. It felt like poison on his tongue when he did, something unnatural and not meant for him. But in that moment, it felt like his entire being was made to say it. "God, I love you so much."

Yes, Jake would run.

He'd run, and run, and run, from love.

He'd run as far as he could, until his legs gave out.

He'd run for eternity, because he knew that one day, he'd walk to you.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen fic #enhypen angst #jake sim #jake sim x reader #jake enhypen #jake sim imagine #jake fluff #jake sim angst #sim jaeyun fluff #sim jaeyun angst

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hadesoftheladies · 8 days

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women's sports is one of the loudest and most successful anti-patriarchy campaigns in human history. what women's sports did and does is prove, over and over again, the excellence, the raw power and strength of the human woman. it completely disrupts ideas on gender.

you have big, powerful women in rugby. fast, endurable women runners. impeccably strong gymnasts. women with strong, large bodies that take up space. that are HEALTHY. they are not RESTRICTED or ladylike. they are free of the stillness/deadness that femininity demands. no corsets. no (aesthetic) thinness. no hourglass bodies for gawking. women's sports screams to society "we are fully human, not objects, not small men. we are not domestic dolls. we are hunters and foragers. fighters."

why do you think men are so vitriolic about it? why don't they want women in football? why don't they want it televized? why do they keep harassing female basketball players? why do they insist on dressing women in sexualized uniforms? why do they now make it taboo to exculde men from women's sports?

i firmly believe it's because women's sports tears patriarchal gender ideology apart so effortlessly. it completely spits in the face of patriarchal political propaganda and shows how null it is. it forces all of us to view women as full, as the beginning of human excellence, as central to human history. not as decorative sexual objects, no matter how men want us to be.

that's why there's so much aggression and derision when it comes to women's sports from men. because women's sports destroys the idea of femininity and depicts women as non-derivative. women must be monsters and cannot afford to play into the childlikeness that femininity demands. the arena of sports forces us to focus on women's physical performance rather than appearance. their strength rather than how attractive they are. their skill and strategy. their humanity. it is a form of entertainment where all female roles are agentive and active rather than passive.

women's sports events are also hotbeds for female and lgb solidarity like you have no idea!

y'all need to start watching women's sports. not only because it is exciting, but it deprograms the patriarchal bullshit out of you so fast. you realize how much is possible. how much we can all achieve right now.

#women's sports #radblr #feminism #olympics are coming up #women athletes are so so cool #like i watch them and im like i can't imagine how much strength it took to pull that off #sometimes my dad watches WNBA highlights with me #im not yet a dedicated watcher of sports but im fixing that this year #anti-gender #anti gender #women's sports makes men so angry because women are strong and smart and beautiful without any femininity bullshit

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cherienymphe · 14 days

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Teenage Dirtbag XIV

JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, mentions of DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, mentions of violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

⭑

You gasped, stomach tight at the feel of the warmth that slid over your folds. Your leg—the good one—was being pushed back, knee bent and almost painfully close to your head. The healing one was resting on the bed, a hand gently massaging your thigh. The soft feel of those fingers were a stark contrast to the tight grip on your other leg, and you reached down to twist your own fingers into blond hair.

“JJ,” you breathed.

You were mindful of the fact that you weren’t alone in the house. It’s not like your parents were the lightest sleepers, but they knew Rafe wasn’t staying over, and so you didn’t feel like lying to them should you wake them up. JJ hummed against your mound, and the vibration against your skin made your toes curl. His hand slid up, straightening your leg a bit and pushing it back a tad more.

You shockingly liked the slight burn from the stretch.

Turning your head to the side, you stared at the window with half hooded eyes and parted lips. Your breathing was coming out in short uneven gasps, fighting the urge to let a moan escape. Sinking your teeth into your lip, an almost inaudible whine escaped when JJ repeatedly thrust his tongue into you. The rough texture against your insides made your back arch, making JJ hum and let your leg go.

It rested over his shoulder as his hand slid up your torso, pushing against your chest and pinning you down. Reaching up, you grabbed his hand, clinging to it as he ate you out, and you almost wished you’d told your father to leave the A/C on. Sweat was clinging to your frame, losing track of just how long JJ had been in between your legs.

Rafe hadn’t been by in two days.

You knew it was Ward’s doing, and for once, you found yourself grateful to the older man. You didn’t know the specifics of that conversation following the hospital visit, but you knew it involved Rafe spending less time around you—until he could get his shit together at least. This was the third week in a row where your boyfriend wasn’t with you every single day, and JJ took full advantage.

It was just hours earlier when he’d climbed into your room just as you were about to take a shower, startling you and forcing you to tell your mother you’d just bumped into the bed. He’d kissed you the moment you’d told him Rafe was at home, and you couldn’t swallow down your gratitude when he offered to help you in the shower.

While still a little sensitive and faintly bruised, your nose was pretty much better. Your knee on the other hand still needed weeks of recovery, and you could only imagine how much longer the process would be dragged out without physical therapy. Your therapist told you that you were doing good and that your recovery was right on track, something you’d been happy to relay to JJ as he peeled your towel off of you.

The teenager in question had long released his hold on your torso, fingers sinking into your soaking cunt. Your juices made a mess of his hand as he massaged your walls, curling his fingers into you and against you and making you reach out to grab your sheets. He added a second and then a third, and when he added a fourth, you grabbed his hair again.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, repeating yourself as he roughly fucked you with his hand. “F-fuck.”

The blond chuckled at that, his amusement at your torment evident. His mouth came down on you again, sucking on your clit and flattening his tongue against your folds. You could feel your legs starting to shake, and JJ cursed when you tightened your hold on his hair, grinding yourself against his face. Running his tongue over you a few more times, JJ turned his head to gently nip at the inside of your thigh just as he curled his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion, and your breath hitched.

Spots danced in your vision as you came, JJ guiding you through it as he kissed and bit at your skin. You were making a mess of your sheets, coming all over his hand, and he hummed at the feel, leaning in and tasting you again. Your chest heaved as you continued to come—out of breath—and JJ was content to lap up all you had to offer while you came down.

When he lifted his head, your leg fell from his shoulder, and you felt like a noodle as he climbed over you. His lips were shiny, and when he kissed you, you tasted yourself on them. The kiss was gentle—sweet—so different from how he was just handling you, and your core buzzed with every movement of your thighs.

“Do you want me to stay the night?” he murmured, lips grazing the corner of your mouth. “I’ll be gone before the sun is up.”

You should’ve said no. After all, it was risky, you knew that, but basking in the bliss of your orgasm and with JJ’s lips so close to yours, you couldn’t resist nodding. You wanted to spend the night with him, relaxing in your bed with your head on his chest. At your agreement, JJ stood up, and your gaze lowered.

“What about you?” you wondered, pointedly glancing at his evident arousal at the look of confusion on his face.

JJ chuckled at that, and you watched him search your drawer before pulling out a t-shirt. You pushed yourself upright as he neared you, allowing him to pull the shirt over your head. He kissed you again once you were dressed, still mindful of your nose, and you reached for his own shirt. He made a slight noise of protest, grabbing your hand.

“Don’t worry about me,” he murmured into the kiss. “Your knee is still healing.”

You rolled your eyes, appreciating the concern, but it wasn’t needed.

“I can still…”

Your smile faded as you glanced down, JJ’s shirt still in your hand as you’d started to lift it.

The bruising peeking from underneath was clear as day, and you blinked when JJ put his hand on yours. The sight took your breath away, having been some time since you were confronted with JJ’s own tumultuous home life. He’d been staying in your pool house so much that you had to guess he was hardly ever at home to experience his father’s abuse.

“What happened?” you finally wondered, voice quiet.

When he didn’t answer, you looked up, and JJ looked like he was going to tell you to forget about it before thinking better of it. With a small sigh, he took your hand into his.

“I crashed a bike he was trying to sell,” he shrugged, relaying the information like it was nothing. “He wasn’t too happy about that.”

You blinked at him, eyes wide.

“You…you what?” you gasped, reaching for him again. “Why didn’t you say any…?”

“I’m fine,” he assured you with a smile, and you shook your head.

“You’re not though! JJ, that looks really bad,” you whispered, pushing yourself towards the end of the bed.

JJ tried to stop you, but you pushed his hands away.

“I can walk, you know,” you lightly told him, making your way to your bathroom.

JJ was close behind, hands hovering around you.

“I know, but…if you don’t have to, you really shouldn’t.”

You searched your cabinet for some cream, facing him as soon as you found it. JJ looked like he wanted to protest, but with one look from you, he relented. With his help, you sat on the sink, JJ moving to stand between your legs as he reached behind his head to pull his shirt off. You couldn’t stop your small gasp as you took in the bruise in its entirety.

It covered so much of his chest and even part of his lower back.

You could see some faint scratches from the accident he hadn’t told you about, and your frown deepened, worried about what came from the accident and what came from his father. As you put the cream on his skin, ignoring his hiss, you wondered why he didn’t tell you.

You asked him.

“You’re already dealing with so much,” he said, and you looked up at him. “I was angry about Rafe, and I’d crashed it before I realized what was happening, and…”

You watched him swallow, eyes troubled.

“I hated that you were being put through his bullshit,” he roughly whispered. “I felt like…I don’t know…like… Like you shouldn’t be the only one hurting.”

Your heart sank at that, lips parting.

JJ scoffed.

“I kept egging him on…”

You softly sighed, gently brushing your fingers over his skin. You couldn’t take your eyes off of the dark coloring, and when you paused, you felt JJ’s hand on your cheek.

“How long?”

You didn’t need to elaborate.

“Too long.”

You didn’t know what to say funnily enough.

Your situation with Rafe was so similar but also just as different in many ways. Rafe was your boyfriend, someone with no familial ties to you whatsoever, fear and conditioning keeping you at his side. JJ’s abuser was his own father, and you didn’t want to imagine the turmoil he felt to remain so loyal and open to the person who raised him. The same person hurting him…

When he helped you back to your bed, you took his hands as you sat down. Glancing up at him, you leaned in, only breaking eye contact when your lips came in contact with his stomach. The skin tightened briefly beneath your touch, but the blond eventually relaxed. You kept your lips against the bruise, wishing you could kiss every single one away.

“Your face looks much better,” Sarah commented, a smile on her face as she sat on your couch. “The last time I saw you, it still looked a little scary.”

Her chuckle was nervous, carefully watching you as you joined her.

“You sure you should be walking?”

You gave her a reassuring smile as you handed her the muffin your mother had baked.

“I can walk, Sarah, it’s fine,” you gently told her. “I just can’t be on it too much.”

She nodded at that, picking at the pastry. There was a look on her face like she had something on her mind, and you watched her shoulders heave.

“Rafe’s tied up with dad and business stuff,” she said. “You probably already know.”

“Yeah, he was here yesterday,” you let her know, swallowing at the memory of his hand on your throat as he fucked you against the couch. “He’s been tied up with Ward a lot recently, so there’s been a few times a week I don’t see him.”

Sarah hummed at that, taking another bite.

“You…don’t seem all that bothered by that,” she commented.

When you looked at her again, her blue gaze was on you, and you frowned slightly.

“I mean, we always spend so much time together. A day or two apart isn’t the end of the world, especially when it’s for a valid reason.”

Sarah slowly nodded at that, and again, you could tell that something was on her mind.

She finally voiced it.

“I never got the chance to talk about what JJ said at the hospital…”

Her demeanor suddenly made a lot more sense, and you let out a soft ‘ah’.

“Every time I visited you, your parents were around, or Rafe was around, and it just didn’t feel like the right time.”

You gave a light chuckle at that, supposing you agreed.

“I mean… that was crazy,” she scoffed. “I don’t even know why he would say that. Do you?”

You shook your head at her, wholly aware of the fact that the man in question was just upstairs in your bedroom.

“You know how JJ and Rafe are with each other,” was all you had to add.

Your words made her eyebrows shoot up.

“Yeah, they fight and can’t stand each other, but JJ accused Rafe of hurting you. He’s an asshole, that I’ll never disagree with, but…” she glanced away, shaking her head. “You broke your nose.”

She frantically blinked.

“You fractured your knee,” she stressed. “I don’t understand why JJ would accuse Rafe of doing that.”

Pretending like you had no idea why he would, you sighed.

“Did you ask him? I just… I don’t know, I just assumed it was because of his feelings about Rafe.”

Running her hand through her hair, Sarah sighed in frustration.

“Yeah, I did, and he just keeps saying to forget it…that he was mad. I know you guys hung out like twice, but I didn’t even think he cared about you like that. Not enough to accuse Rafe of something so horrible,” she mused. “You guys don’t even talk.”

Her face was pinched as she tried to make sense of it, and part of you felt bad for lying to her.

“Why would he say that?” she wondered more so to herself. “I can’t really imagine JJ going that far just because he hates Rafe, you know?”

You nodded, and she continued.

“…and you know more than anyone how much I hate you two together, but it’s just because you could do so much better. Rafe just can’t seem to get his shit together, and he treats you like a child, but I…” Sarah shook her head. “I don’t think I could ever think Rafe is capable of what JJ accused him of.”

Your eyes met hers at that, and she shrugged.

“God knows Rafe is such an asshole, but even I can’t imagine him hurting you like that.”

You pressed your lips together, taking in how upset the thought made Sarah, and you got it. They fought and hated each other at times, but from what you’d seen, that’s just how siblings were sometimes. You never once thought Sarah genuinely hated her brother. She loved him, and even if she didn’t like him most days, she’d never want to imagine he was way worse than what she already thought him to be.

“I think JJ was just worried. It’s like you said, I looked scary coming out of that room,” you chuckled. “…and it probably just got the best of him, and Rafe was an easy target.”

Sarah seemed to stew on that, and you briefly glanced up the stairs.

Her next words shocked you.

“Do you think he likes you or something?”

Your eyes were wide when you looked at her again.

“JJ?”

“Yeah,” she lightly said with a shrug. “Anybody could see that he did seem really concerned about you.”

That was the last thing you wanted to hear, because if anyone could see that, then that most definitely included Rafe.

“Worried enough to full blown attack Rafe? You two only talked like two or three times, but…I guess that’s enough to get a little crush.”

The blonde was smiling, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to return.

“Sarah,” you nervously warned, and she waved you off.

“I know, I know. You and Rafe, and…Rafe would lose his mind if he thought JJ liked you, but I can’t see why else he would react like he did. I do get it though,” she shrugged, leaning back. “You’re pretty, and you’re sweet, and you’re dating the guy he probably hates most in this world.”

Her words brought out a lot of emotions, and you couldn’t deny the way your chest bloomed at the idea of gushing over JJ with Sarah like he was your boyfriend instead of Rafe. You couldn’t though, and swallowing down those feelings, you rolled your eyes at her.

“I don’t think about JJ like that.”

“I know, I know,” she huffed. “You and Rafe, but I’m not going to pretend like I’d hate the idea. I’d definitely love it more than you with my brother, that’s for sure.”

Part if you wanted to tell Sarah the truth. God knows that you did, but it was too risky. While you suspected she wouldn’t care about you cheating on Rafe, she also knew you well, and wouldn’t believe you’d just decided to start sneaking around with JJ without an airtight valid reason. If you told Sarah about you and JJ, she’d know that something was seriously wrong with your relationship with her brother, and considering recent events like JJ’s accusation…

It was just too risky.

You pressed your forehead to your bed, nails dragging along your sheets as JJ pushed his cock into you. His chest was pressed to your back, forearms resting on either side of you and keeping you caged beneath him with every descent of his hips. His face was pressed into the place where your neck and shoulder met, peppering kisses along your skin as he fucked you, and you reached back to glide your fingers through his damp hair.

After showering with you, JJ hadn’t exactly been in a hurry to help dry you off, and you found out why when his lips had met the back of your neck. His hands on your waist had guided you towards your bed, his soft voice in your ear telling you to just relax. You hated being so limp beneath him, but you knew that JJ just wanted to be mindful of your knee.

He was comfortable between your parted legs, taking his time in thrusting into you, skin dragging against yours. Your toes curled as he stretched you out, and a shiver crawled up your spine as he pressed kisses along your shoulder. You really wanted to face him, but every time you tried, JJ warned you off.

“Relax, princess,” he lightly laughed against your skin. “Let me do all the work.”

You rolled your eyes, a laugh on the tip of your tongue when a particularly forceful thrust made you gasp. He nipped at the skin of your neck as you moaned, eyes rolling as he plunged his cock into you. After taking a few deep breaths, you replied.

“Please, JJ,” you sighed, tone pleading.

He hummed at that, and you could feel the smirk on his lips.

“I think I like you when you’re needy.”

You pulled on his roots, making him hiss, but it quickly faded into a chuckle.

“I swear you’re only this bratty with me…”

You didn’t refute him, but a smile did dance along your lips as he pulled out of you. He was gentle in pushing you onto your back, and he softly tapped your right thigh as he climbed over you.

“Keep this leg down,” he warned.

His tone was mirthful, but you knew he was serious, and you gasped when he bent your other leg, pushing the head of his cock past your folds. He took his time in slipping into you again, and your back arched up towards him. The blond groaned at the tight grip around his cock, fitting snugly inside of you, and you reached up to clasp your hands behind his neck.

JJ held himself above you, one hand pressed into the mattress while the other kept your leg hooked on his hip. His blond hair hung onto his forehead, just as damp as it was before due to the thin layer of sweat that clung to his skin. Pulling him down, you lifted yourself slightly to brush your lips against his.

You could hear how wet you were, hear the sound of his cock disappearing into you, but even if you didn’t you could feel how wet you were. You were dripping around JJ, making a mess of your sheets, and as if reading your mind, he looked down to watch his cock go in and out of you. You were just about to reach down and touch yourself when you thought you heard the last thing you wanted to hear.

You froze beneath JJ, quietly telling him to stop.

“What?” he breathed, kissing your jaw.

He was still thrusting into you, and you turned your head towards the window. Heart dropping, you quickly and gently repeatedly hit JJ’s arm.

“I think I hear Rafe’s truck,” you gasped.

At that, the guy on top of you did stop, and in the silence, you confirmed that it was indeed the distinct sound of Rafe’s truck you heard pulling into the driveway.

You remained still for half a second more.

You sat up as soon as JJ got off of you, and you were quick to grab your T-shirt, pulling it on and limping a bit towards the window. You already knew it, but the sight of Rafe’s vehicle in your yard—confirming your suspicions—made your heart drop to your stomach. To make matters worse, any hope you had that JJ could sneak out while you let your boyfriend in were quickly crushed.

You could make out Topper in his passenger seat, and you didn’t doubt that Kelce was in attendance too.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, voice shaky.

You felt like you were going to be sick, and when you turned towards JJ, he’d already pulled his pants back on.

“Topper and Kelce are in his truck,” you choked out, and JJ met you halfway.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he reassured you. “I’ll hide, alright?”

It seemed the only option, and although you nodded, you wanted to throw up as you thought about what could happen if he was caught. You heard your phone vibrate then, no doubt Rafe telling you to let him in. You trembled at the sound, and JJ ran his hands over your temple and cheek.

“He won’t fine me,” he told you, kissing your face and lips. “If they’re with him he can’t plan on staying long.”

That did reassure you, and you nodded, telling yourself you only had to entertain him for a bit.

“Look, JJ…whatever you hear…”

You didn’t continue, and when you looked at his face, you noticed the way it clouded over. He seemed to understand where you were going with this, and after some time, he gave you a nod.

“You can’t come out no matter what. I don’t care what you hear—what he does, you cannot-.”

“I know,” he said, sounding unhappy with that, and you didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched.

At JJ’s urging, you hurried downstairs as best as you could. You took deep breaths the entire way, fixing your face and repeatedly telling yourself everything would be fine. The guy you were cheating on your boyfriend with was currently hiding upstairs, and your volatile boyfriend was about to walk through the door…but everything would be fine. Your stomach twisted more and more the closer you got to the door, and when you finally opened it, you gave him a small smile.

“I thought that maybe you’d get your mother to get the door or something,” was how he greeted you. “You shouldn’t be on that leg unless you need to be.”

Swallowing down a sigh, you gave him a look.

“She’s asleep, Rafe, and I wasn’t expecting you to drop by at eleven at night.”

He nodded at that, leaning in to briefly kiss you on the lips.

“I know,” he huffed. “…but my dad has basically been keeping me hostage, and I’m going to Top’s tonight, and I haven’t had the chance to see you in like three days.”

When he brushed past you towards the stairs, your heart skipped a beat, and you quietly took his hand as he offered it. As he helped you back to your room, you thought to yourself that Rafe didn’t like being away from you, sure, but it was more than just about missing you. He never wanted you to get too comfortable with not having him around.

This unexpected drop in was to confirm you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

When you crossed the threshold to your bedroom, you glanced around. There was no sign of JJ, and you even noted that your bed had been straightened. Heat flooded to your cheeks as you recalled what you’d been doing there just moments before, and one glance towards the cracked bathroom door had you wondering if JJ was in there. You knew he’d be smarter than that, and as you sat on your bed, you realized that you were facing your closet.

The door now closed where it had once been partially open.

“You could’ve let me know you were coming,” you told Rafe. “I just would’ve left the door unlocked.”

Your boyfriend softly chuckled to himself, and it didn’t exactly sound humorous.

“So, you could know when to expect me…?”

His eyes bore into yours as he said that, and you sighed.

You wondered if he’d ever get over that night you’d slept at John B.’s, and you rolled your eyes.

“I have a still healing leg, Rafe. I’m not going anywhere, something I’m sure you took into account when…”

Your words died in the air as Rafe’s face twitched, and you swallowed down the rest of what you were going to say. He made his way towards you, towering over you, and you shrank away from his gaze as he looked down his nose at you.

“…and I’d do it again if it kept you bedridden for months.”

You swallowed at that.

“It’d be worth it to know where you are at all times and having you ready and waiting for me.”

You looked away from him at that, pushing back tears.

“Did you come to make me feel like shit for not being able to go anywhere or…?”

When you looked at him again, he was rolling his eyes towards the ceiling.

“Believe it or not, baby, I did miss looking at you,” he murmured, reaching up to cup your chin. “You know I like falling asleep to this face every night.”

His thumb brushed along your bottom lip, and he bent down to kiss you. This kiss wasn’t as brief as the previous one, and you were forced to move your mouth against his. When he deepened it, his hand circled around your neck, and you flinched, but not because of his fingers on your throat.

There was a spot on your neck that felt more sensitive than the rest.

You knew what it was, and you were relieved the lights were off.

“God, I’d fuck you, right now if Top and Kelce weren’t downstairs waiting on me,” he sighed the moment he pulled away.

You glanced at your closet as his lips moved to your jaw and then your neck. Rafe struggled to pull himself away, and when he did, you leaned into the hand that was on your cheek. He brushed his thumb over the skin, studying your face.

“Sarah told me she came by the other day to check in on you,” he told you.

At the mention of Sarah—and the reminder of that conversation—you blinked.

“Uh…yeah, she did. She didn’t stay long,” you confirmed, and you watched Rafe frown at you.

“Did she say something to you?”

Now, you frowned.

“Like what…?”

When you gave him a questioning look, Rafe merely raised an eyebrow at you. His thumb was still tracing circles into your skin, and you hated the way he drank you in. His blue eyes flitted over your features, taking in every shift, and by the time you evened out your expression, it was too late.

“You know I know you like an open book,” he said, making your shoulders sag. “Somethings bothering you.”

Yeah, the guy in your closet.

The reminder of that conversation about JJ forced you to unintentionally focus on the fact that the man in question was currently in your bedroom. It was a thought that made you want to throw up, and unfortunately, that wasn’t a feeling you were able to keep hiding. While impulsive, you knew JJ understood the severity of his and your current predicament and wouldn’t dare reveal himself. With that being said though, you couldn’t stomach the possibility of Rafe discovering him somehow.

However, that wasn’t the only thing bothering you, just what was currently bothering you, so a half truth spilled from your lips.

“She was just talking about…what happened at the hospital,” you slowly confessed.

The mention of the incident had Rafe’s jaw clenching, in turn also causing him to tighten his hold on your own face.

“Right,” he responded, tone clipped.

Rafe moved away from you, and you watched him poke at something on your dresser.

“JJ’s lucky my dad didn’t have him arrested,” you heard him sneer. “That Pogue is always looking for trouble.”

“I’m sure he just wanted to blame you, Rafe, that’s all.”

You heard your boyfriend scoff, and he shook his head. He turned around to face you, leaning back with his hands on your dresser as he stared you down.

“He probably has a little crush on you.”

His tone was mocking, and you raised your brows.

“He doesn’t know me,” you argued.

“He doesn’t need to. You talked…what…? Once?” he wondered, head tilted. “That’s more than enough for the likes of him.”

You remained silent.

“I mean, come on,” he dragged the word out. “You’re pretty, you’re rich, and you’re my girlfriend.”

Rafe softly laughed to himself.

“That last point alone is enough to have that Pogue wanting what he can’t have,” your boyfriend spat. “After all, why the fuck else would JJ Maybank of all people care if you fell down the stairs? Enough to want to fight me? He’s nothing to you.”

“Sarah and I aren’t exactly strangers, Rafe. She was worried, so it makes sense that he’d be worried too,” you shrugged.

Rafe pulled his lip between his teeth as he regarded you.

“So, that makes what he did okay?”

“No, I just think you’re trying to make it something it isn’t. JJ barely knows me, and what he does know is that I’m a spoiled Kook princess who’s dating Rafe Cameron. Call me crazy, but I don’t think I’m his type.”

What you were doing was the literal definition of gaslighting, and if Rafe wasn’t an abusive jerk, you might’ve felt bad about it.

“You’re the quickest way to get me to break his nose. You’re exactly his type.”

Rafe found himself funny, and you rolled your eyes, feeling uncomfortable with this conversation for obvious reasons. Your boyfriend decided that he’d kept Kelce and Topper waiting long enough, and when he approached you, you were prepared for the kiss. Rafe deeply inhaled when he pressed his lips to yours, hand resting on the back of your neck.

You made a slight noise of protest when his hold tightened.

When he pulled his lips away, he kept his nose touching yours, and his gaze was devoid of humor as he looked between your eyes.

“You should probably tell Sarah to watch her friend,” he whispered. “Next time he puts his hands on me, I just might break his neck. You think you can relay that?”

His thumb was painful against the front of your throat, and you gave him a shaky nod. You reached up to touch it when he roughly let you go, and he threw a comment over his shoulder as he left, telling you he might come back later to stay the night. Your fingers trembled against your skin, and you didn’t relax until you heard his truck start again.

The sound of it was gone completely when the closet door finally opened.

“I’m fine,” you breathed, JJ wasting no time and hurrying to kneel before you.

He turned on the lamp, and you hated how cold his eyes were as he inspected you.

“I told you, JJ, I’m fine,” you assured him, reaching for him.

His entire body was vibrating, and you knew it took everything he had to control himself.

“God, I hate him,” he breathed, pulling you into his arms.

You hugged him back, burying your face into his chest. You inhaled his scent, the smell and feel of him helping you calm down. Rafe’s presence had shaken the very atmosphere in the room, and you took deep breaths, JJ’s hands rubbing up and down your back.

“He said he might come back later,” you murmured.

“I know,” JJ exhaled. “I heard.”

“Maybe…maybe you should leave,” you said, looking up at him.

Rafe’s visit had spooked you, and you knew it was evident, but JJ didn’t seem as disturbed. A small smirk danced along his lips, and he brushed his hand over your cheek.

“Don’t worry,” he slowly leaned in, giving you a tentative kiss before deepening it. “I’ll be out of your room before he gets back.”

He kissed you again, and you shuddered when his hands slid along your thighs, dipping beneath your shirt.

“He insulted me…so now I really want to fuck his girlfriend,” he bit out against your lips, pushing you back and covering your frame with his own.

You couldn’t deny the effect those words had on you, hating how quickly your fear of Rafe started to fade at the sound of JJ’s playful tone.

“JJ,” you warned, but your tone was light, and he smiled into the kiss.

He tapped your right thigh, pushing your shirt up with his other hand, blue eyes glinting as he held your gaze.

“Keep this leg down.”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #dark!jj maybank #dark!jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #obx #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #outer banks imagine

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kropotkindersurprise · 2 years

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September 26, 2022 - Congratulations to the Cuban people for voting in favor of the Family Code! [article]

The new code guarantees the right of all people to form a family without discrimination, legalizing same sex marriage and allowing same sex couples to adopt children. Under the new code, parental rights will be shared among extended and non-traditional family structures that could include grandparents, step parents and surrogate mothers. The code also adds novelties such as prenuptial agreements and assisted reproduction.

The Code promotes equal distribution of domestic responsibilities amongst men and women and extends labor rights to those who care full-time for children, the elderly, or people with disabilities. The code establishes the right to a family life free from violence, one that values love, affection, solidarity and responsibility. It codifies domestic violence penalties, and promotes comprehensive policies to address gender-based violence.

The Code also outlaws child marriage and corporal punishment, stating that parents will have “responsibility” instead of “custody” of children, and will be required to be “respectful of the dignity and physical and mental integrity of children and adolescents.” It also asserts that parents should grant maturing offspring more say over their lives.

The new code also expands the rights of the elderly and people with disabilities. It recognizes the role of grandfathers and grandmothers in the transmission of values, culture, traditions and care.

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strawb3rrystar · 30 days

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hihi!! i love your writing and i was wondering if you could do a hazbin hotel x male reader who's physically weak? take your time ofc, don't overwork yourself :3 also since the cast is big, could you include the characters vox, valentino, adam, and angel dust? you can do more if you want, but take care of yourself!! i would like headcanons and i don't mind if it's fluff or smut lol thank you so much!

Being a bottom is a mindset.

Pairing: Vox, Valentino, Adam, Angel Dust x Masc! Reader

Warnings: Mentions being babied, forced domestication, manhandling, oral, exhibitionism, impact play, overstimulation, creampie, intoxication

Word count: 794

✰Masterlist

It's not hard to be weaker than Vox, considering he is an Overlord. Vox finds your weakness to be most delightful. He'll use every opportunity to baby you. He'll brush your teeth for you, pick out your outfits, monitor your social media like a child. He'll expect you to do all the cooking and cleaning like a good househusband. It's not like you can do much of anything else anyways, because Vox barely let's you leave the house.

When you do leave the house, it's mostly going to be for a meeting or because Vox wants you in his office. During these meetings Vox will pull you into his lap. His arm firmly wrapped around your waist to keep you there. If he gets bored, which is very often, he'll tease you through your pants, watching you squirm. When Vox wants you in his office, he wants you there for one reason. To give him head. He loves the feeling of trying to work with his cock shoved down your throat. Knowing that anyone could walk in at any moment.

Again, it's not hard to be weaker than Valentino. But he finds it to be most amusing, and takes great pride in the fact that you're weaker than him. He can literally pick you up and throw you over his shoulder. And he does, a lot. Val loves to just pick you up and bring you wherever he goes. He's a major tease. Will tease you both in public and in private. Has to bring you along to every shoot. It's not one without you is his excuse.

He loves to force you face down into the mattress, because then you're even more defenseless than you were before. You shut up real fast when he spanks you. Because you know that if you don't shut up and take it, things will get much worse for you. Val can't resist shoving his cock down your throat. He just loves to see the cute tears that form in your eyes when you gag on it. He'll have you suck him off in the studio, your dressing room, his limo. He'd even have you suck him off during a meeting, if Vox allowed it. Another one of Val's favorite activities is comparing the size of your cocks and then teasing you for letting him.

It's no surprise to Adam that you're weaker than him. In his mind, almost every angel is weaker than him. He'll 100% make fun of you for it, though. Adam will most likely order you around a lot more, because he likes taking advantage of the fact you'll listen to him. Under no circumstances will you be coming to Hell on extermination day, he doesn't want you to get hurt. It may not seem like it, but he does care for you, a lot.

Like Val, Adam is a huge tease, and will tease you anywhere and everywhere. He'll make you sit on his lap all the time. And will pick you up and carry you around. Loves to fist your hair and bring your face closer to him, even in non-sexual scenarios. Adam loves to purposely tease your wings, with the goal to turn you on. But if you do the same to him, you'll be met with the roughest pounding of your afterlife. Will make fun of you when you start to cry from overstimulation, while wiping your tears. Loves to cum inside you and calls it 'breeding' even if you can't get pregnant.

It's actually very surprising to Angel that you're weaker than him. Most of the sinners he knows are very much not weaker than him. He'll try to keep you out of danger as much as he can. Which is no easy task in Hell. Angel will make sure you stay far away from Val at all costs. I can imagine you being a light weight, so Angel will keep an eye on you to make sure you don't over do it. If you do, he'll be an absolute sweetheart to you. He'll bring you out of the club and back to the hotel. Turning down your drunken advances, because he doesn't want to take advantage of you while you're intoxicated.

Angel is the softest dom you will ever meet. As I've mentioned in previous headcanons, he likes to dom with his partner. Will make sure you're having the best time of your life when having sex. He'll have very clear boundaries and a safeword set in place. He loves to press on your stomach and feel his cock inside you. Angel's favorite thing is makeout sessions that turn into passionate sex. He has many arms that he can do many things with. Take that how you will.

Star's notes -> I do not write male reader often, so I hope this is to your liking!

(Thank you, sweet anon, for requesting!) (Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @alexandria-fandom @corruptcoder @perfectlycraftychaos @stressedbleach @ghostdoodlen @roboticsuccubus83 @sugarplumz100 @myamythos @hazbinhappy @mollzaj @sunshines-bright @t0uchst4rv3d | Join the taglist

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hardlyinteresting · 2 months

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Love, Guilt and Other Wounds

Aaron Hotchner x female reader

When Aaron and his partner are taken hostage, he has to break her heart to save her life.

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, a little bit of domestic fluff, mention of blood, injury (non-graphic), hostage situation, knives, cannon-compliant themes of violence, non-detailed discussion about religion (Christianity), themes of childhood abuse, please let me know if you want me to add anything else.

Word count: (less than I expected, sorry) 3.7k Request here! | Masterlist

"Of course, I’ll hurt you. Of course, you’ll hurt me. Of course, we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence". - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Aaron isn't sure if he believes in a God or a higher power. He was taught to read scripture; and spent Sunday mornings perfecting his posture in church pews-- starched shirts and neckties pulled too tight. The preacher's sermons left him wanting-- wondering how this man of God could stand over his congregation preaching every week, and not see all the lies they were holding back. How could he not see the secrets Aaron seemed to read so clearly? At just fourteen Aaron knew who was having an affair and with whom. He could see which children feared their fathers. Every pew had another story, another family growing together, or falling apart. The hypocrisy of it all drove him mad, and he imagined standing from his seat to shout it, overwhelmed as he realized he had unintentionally become the keeper of everyone's secrets. He learned that everyone in that church was a liar in their own right, and he hated it. But, when he left for college, his mother called to ask if he was still going to church on Sundays, and he lied and said yes.

He should have paid more attention. Maybe then he'd understand how he ended up here. Perhaps it's some sick retribution. A cosmic evening of the scales; his penance for his sins. He just wishes you weren't here with him. How dare he think he could love someone when all he's ever done is punish those who love him? His hands are stained with blood; he taints everything he touches.

Very early on in his career, Aaron learned he couldn’t take cases personally. As devastating as it was to have another victim show up while hunting a killer, it wasn’t a personal failure. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He repeated the process again and again. Logically he knows that he is not responsible for the actions of the aggressive sociopath who is now holding the two of you hostage; but, he blames himself for not keeping you safer, for bringing you with him, and for putting you in harm's way. He knows he will not recover if you don’t make it out of here. He won’t forgive himself.

The profile said this man would be anti-social. Physically, he’d be small in stature. It was clear he’d been sneaking up on his victims. He had been taking couples, knocking out the men with a blow to the back of the head, and then the women. It’s a method that the team had seen before, common for UNSUBs without the social ability to lure their victims, or the physical strength or confidence to attack head-on. But they had not profiled that he would escalate to taking out his targets with a taser.

After six days in San Diego, the team finally had a lead on two rental properties in the UNSUB’s comfort zone. One was an old tyre factory, listed as a multipurpose warehouse and storage space; the other was a large storage facility in an industrial neighbourhood. Both units had been paid for in cash, both offered the privacy and space required to hold and torture two people for days at a time. The team split up, Hotch and you arranged to meet the owner of the factory space to find out more about who the renter was and gain access to the property. With no response from the owner of the second property, Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi headed over to check it out.

The two of you had only been on the property for five minutes before Aaron had been incapacitated and taken out. He had foolishly made his way into the building while you ran back to the SUV to grab your jacket. Out cold, there was nothing Aaron could do to stop you from meeting the same fate.

It’s not his fault. But he feels like it is as he watches you shiver from across the room. He can’t be certain how much time has passed, but it feels like hours. He can only hope that you’re being kept in the building you were attacked in, that the team will connect the dots and come and get you, but until then you’re stuck. He watches, nauseated as your eyes flutter open, and then shut again. You’re concussed, he doesn’t need to be a doctor to know that. His ears are ringing, and he’s sure the blow he took to the head has at the very least temporarily worsened his hearing.

“Doesn’t the FBI have rules against fraternization?” The UNSUB wonders out loud, waving a knife around as he walks towards you.

“What makes you think we’re a couple?” Hotch asks, as he tries to work his hands free from the rope that binds them behind his back, “She’s just a colleague”.

It’s a lie. But it needs to be said. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. Buy time, shift the UNSUB’s interest away from the two of you. Ruin the fantasy.

“I think I’ve been doing this long enough to know a couple when I see a couple, Aaron,” the man taunts, obviously proud of himself. He’s feeling emboldened having taken two FBI agents, but that works in your favour. He’s getting cocky, too full of himself. It’s a level of confidence he isn’t used to having, it just gives him a higher height to fall from. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. “I think it’s time we wake your girlfriend up,” the man says, his hand gripping tightly at your hair, your head tugged back without remorse.

Aaron resists the urge to cringe as he hears you groan, your face twisted with obvious pain as you’re rudely awakened. “She’s pretty. What’s she doing with you?”

“I told you. She’s a colleague”.

Your eyes are unfocused, scanning the room trying to make sense of what is going on.

The man raises the knife, holding it to your throat. This time Aaron blinks, desperate to control his expressions and micro-expressions. In this scenario, the less he cares about you, the safer you are.

It’s the burden of being tied to him. Time after time his love destroys people.

The blade presses closer to your throat. Aaron controls his breathing.

“Impressive agent Hotchner. But I’m still not convinced,” the UNSUB moves the blade but pulls your head back further. Your eyes meet Aaron’s, “Do what you’re going to do, he doesn’t care,” you say. You’re speaking to the man with the knife in his hand as much as you’re speaking to Aaron. He weighs his options, his heart pounding as he watches you hold your breath, willing the tears to leave your eyes. It’s the permission he needs but doesn’t want. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He knows you’re doing the same, telling him to break your heart to save your life.

“Please, Hotc--”.

He doesn’t let you finish, “Just shut up for once. Please,” he thinks the words cut through him more than they cut through you. Knowing his cruelty is a lie does little to soften the blow, and it breaks his heart to be the one throwing it.

But this is all he’s good for, isn’t it? Letting people down. Surely it’s not just coincidence that so many of those who have dared to love him end up damaged. One way or another he destroys people. Who is he to say that he’s the one who is suffering when it’s he who does all the damage?

Even as a child, he couldn’t help it. He thinks perhaps he inherited his sharpened tongue and lack of patience from his mother. She loved him in her own way but could never show it without first tearing him apart. Her biting words, and regular beatings. Prentiss had been right when she once said he was distrustful of women-- unfairly so. Not all women carry the hateful, spiteful heart his mother had. Very few had ever turned their rage at the world and their shortcomings into a personal and violent rage against him. He grew weary nonetheless. Better safe than sorry.

At a young age, it became clear to him that there were few things, if anything, as important to his mother than appearances. On Sundays, she fussed over his clothes and his posture. She lectured him on table manners from the moment he could hold a fork. His room had to be spotless. His grades had to surpass average. Long before his brother was ever born, he learned how to live up to her expectations. But still, there was always something she could find him lacking in, an excuse to take her open fist or wooden spoon to his skin, a reason to send him to bed without dinner. He remembers crashing into the china cabinet trying to escape her one night. She was mortified on Monday when he had to walk into school on Monday with a cast around his arm. “Make sure they know this was your fault,” she told him. Perhaps I was built to fail, he had thought. She loves me and I embarrass her. I will only ever let her down. God, how disappointed she would be to see him now.

Seconds feel like hours as the UNSUB leers expectantly. The man's mouth twists into a smile when he sees the tears forming in your waterline again. Aaron watches your fist clench presumably to distract yourself from the migraine that matches the pounding in his head, just as much as it is to pull your attention away from the hurtful lies he's about to weave.

“You were supposed to have my back,” Arron spits with faux vitriol. “You had one job and couldn't even manage to do that”. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward.

“From the moment you showed up I knew you'd be a problem”.

He continues to try to work his hands out from the binds. He can feel the knot loosening as he continues to buy the two of you time. “Aaron,” you beg, tears slipping down your cheeks now.

“Following me around with some school girl crush. Look where we are now,” Aaron breathes.

He can feel his father’s rage resting on his shoulders, as heavy as his hands were when he used to pat him on the back. It’s a quiet burning, far more silent than his mother’s anger, but it’s there and threatening him all the same. A silent shame; a fear induced by the knowledge that he’s failing but not being able to stop it. His father lived like a ghost in their home, just as Aaron has learned to haunt his life. He only ever raised his voice when he drank, but even then his hatred was self-directed. A sorrowful self-pity. A cry for help. The affairs, the gambling, the drinking; the man punished himself, stumbling home to a house with a vengeful wife, a silent boy, and a crying baby. It was a heart attack that finally killed him, but Aaron never doubted his father had stopped living long before that.

Aaron breaks his own heart as he delivers each verbal blow. He hopes you understand. He prays that just maybe your concussion might leave the memories of this moment blurry. Selfishly, he begs you to forgive him, because he won’t forgive himself.

He can see the way your wrists strain against your restraints. The UNSUB adjusts his grip on your hair as you struggle to distance yourself from him. Your eyelids flutter and he knows your vision must be swimming but you don’t give up. With a sadistic grin, the UNSUB wipes at the tear stain on your cheek with fake sympathy, grasping your jaw roughly he forces you to look straight at Aaron, “Poor girl… guess boss man doesn’t care about you after all. What a waste,” he sighs his breath heavy against your cheek, as he moves to hold the knife to your throat again, “She’s so pretty,” he directs his commentary at Aaron this time.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’ve slept with her. How couldn’t I when she was practically throwing herself at me?” The words taste bitter on his tongue as he speaks them. His stomach churns as he continues, “But what we have certainly isn’t love”.

It couldn’t be further from the truth. Aaron grounds himself choosing to remember the quiet morning you two had shared only a few days earlier. Waking up without an alarm but with Jack sneaking in to jump up on the bed. As he watches you cry now he recalls how you had smiled so brightly at the little boy, ruffling his hair and cuddling Jack into your side. He had watched with a smile of his own as you bargained with his son, promising pancakes in exchange for ten more minutes of sleep on your shared day off.

You crept into his heart so slowly he had hardly noticed. Until one day, he looked up from the bright pink sticky note you'd left on your recent report, reminding him not to work too hard; he knew, without a doubt, he was in love with you.

For so much of his life, Aaron conditioned himself to expect a fight around every corner. He learned to make sacrifices from his happiness in fruitless attempts to keep peace. For the first time in forever he's been feeling like maybe, just maybe, he's enough. You’ve been more than patient with him; understanding his hesitance to open up to people again. You don't get upset with him for working late, but you scold him for not getting enough sleep and skipping meals.

He smiles more. He cracks jokes the way he used to. You've helped him see the forest from the trees-- healed parts of him he didn’t know needed mending. He's tried to do the same for you. He's watched you open up and trust the team more. He's seen the way your confidence has grown and he can't take credit for your growth, but he's enamoured by the transformation just the same.

You deserve better. You deserve better. You deserve better. The thought echoes in his head the same as it does most days. But now, it’s louder. The voice in his head matches the volume of the ringing in his ears, and the rushing sound of his pounding heart. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He fights to remind himself, but the UNSUB is laughing now. Taunting you and your emotions, and there’s nothing Aaron can do but sit there and watch. He struggles to feign indifference, watching as you continue to make yourself smaller. It’s only then that he notices that you too are working your hands out of the rope that restrains you. The UNSUB was stupid enough to tie your wrist in front of you.

Aaron’s eyes focus on the bandaid wrapped around your index finger. You cut yourself making dinner last week. He could have sworn his heart melted when you turned to him holding your hand out, blood beading already. “Aaron, where do you keep your first aid kit?” you’d asked. Your brows furrowed, and your lips pouted. “In the bathroom, the cabinet under the sink,” he’d answered with no intention of letting you go off and tend to your wound alone. Instead, he guided you down the hall, his left hand looped in a gentle hold around your wrist, his other hand on your waist.

Once you were sat on the countertop he took great care, making sure the wound was cleaned before he bandaged it. “My hero,” you teased, leaning in for a kiss.

A simple cut he could manage to fix. Jack promised you could use as many of his Star Wars bandaids as you wanted while you healed as well. A little love and patience could make it better, a philosophy he adopted to heal Jack’s scraped knees, and schoolyard bruises. But the sight before him now is far worse than any kitchen mishap could be.

Your nose is still bleeding. Bruises have already begun to form, red marks turning deep purple with every passing minute. He knows that your concussion is something you'll recover from. The contact burns from where the taser touched your skin will become new skin someday soon. The cuts and scrapes will scab over and then disappear.

Aaron worries the damage he's done can never truly be ameliorated. Your compassion is unmatched. It’s what makes you a good agent, a good partner, and someone Jack can turn to. You are forgiving. God knows you've excused enough of his behaviour. But, he doesn't deserve to be absolved of this guilt. He will carry this day around in the darkest corner of his heart; the same place he holds the memory of Haley and how he failed her. The words “what we have certainly isn't love,” will linger uneffaced by time or kind words.

The squeak of an old door opening piques Aaron's interest. The UNSUB doesn't react. Seemingly only interested in tracing the tear tracks on your cheeks. Your eyes are closing again. It's over now, he wants to tell you. He wants to hold you; comfort you; to apologise because you deserve to hear it anyway.

“Paul Simpson. FBI,” Morgan’s voice booms, “drop the knife and put your hands where I can see them”. Prentiss and Dave come to stand next to Morgan, their guns trained on the newly identified perpetrator. Aaron bites his tongue so hard he can taste blood-- it's all he can do to stop himself from bursting into a fit of bitter laughter. We win, he wants to say.

Disarmed and handcuffed, Paul is escorted outside by Morgan and two members of the local police. Prentiss and Rossi make quick work of untying you and Aaron.

“Aaron?” he can hear you mutter, breathy and quiet.

“Yeah, I’m right here,” he promises kneeling at your side. Your eyes are glazed and unfocused as you nod and tip forward. Unconscious, your entire body falls forward into Prentiss’ arms. Aaron’s voice joins Rossi in calling for a paramedic.

The doctors assure him that you’ll wake up soon. They dealt with his injuries quickly. Bruised ribs are the worst of his injuries. A cut at the back of his head and the taser burns were patched in only a few minutes, though he’ll readily admit he was far from a good patient. Too anxious to keep still much to the nurse’s dismay.

You’re still asleep. A major concussion will have you out of the field for much longer than he knows you’ll be happy with. He makes a mental note to start setting aside some extra paperwork for when you inevitably start hounding him for something to do. With the lights in the room dimmed, and a comfortable silence settling he allows himself to indulge in the illusion that everything might be alright between you.

With your hand in his, he breathes deeply trying to focus. He prays to a God he’s not sure he believes in. And when the quiet starts to get to him, he speaks out loud, as silly as he thinks he may look. He tells you about the phone call he had with Jack earlier and lets you know that Jack has a new painting he can’t wait to show you when you get home. Your hand squeezes his, encouraging him to keep talking.

“Aaron?” your eyelids flutter as you adjust to the light. The nurse had them turned to the dimmest setting but it’s still far more than you feel immediately capable of coping with.

“Yeah, honey,” he affirms. You release the breath you’re holding your brow relaxing.

“I love you,” you tell him. Your voice is steady and steadfast. Your resolve is impressive, unwavering and determined as you focus on making eye contact with him. “It’s not your fault,” you promise. He’s sure you don’t expect the weight on his shoulders to lighten instantaneously. You’ll tell him every day that he’s not to blame; intent on chiselling away at his guilt, shrinking it down before it manages to consume him.

“I love you,” he swears. He knows it won’t squash any of the doubt he’s planted. Aaron knows there will soon be days that the niggling insecurity threatens to break what you’ve managed to build together; when the worry that you aren’t enough seems louder than it ever has before. He won’t blame you if you decide it isn’t worth the pain of staying with him. But, he’s hell-bent on loving you through it. He can only hope that it’s enough.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds fic #hotch x reader

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magicalink · 2 months

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Sleep Headcanons💤

How your non-human husbandos need or not need to sleep. This is part of Better Find Husbandos AU and speaks of the times when reader was in a relationship with each of the boys. Contains: fluff! Domestic slice of life! Headcanons canon for Better Find Husbandos!

Characters: Venti, Albedo, Xiao, Scara/Wanderer/Kuni in order x female reader. (arranged in the order reader slept with them :3)

Venti

The body your dear wind spirit created to inhabit completely resembles the one of a human. Even if he is strong and resistant due to his nature, he needs to eat, drink, go to the bathroom, etc, to sustain this vessel without resorting to using his Archon or wind spirit powers, which cost energy that is no longer unlimited now that he doesn't have the Gnosis anymore.

Therefore, obviously, he totally needs to sleep. He sleeps every single night (or day, after a hangover) like any healthy human. That keeps him in shape and without the need to cheat and grab elemental or divine energy from his stash, which he only does when strictly needed. Because of this, in his humanoid, weakened state, it's really easy for him to get drunk. But if something very bad happens and he needs to sober up to protect you, he won't hesistate to grab that power and using it to strengthen or modify his body and fight alongside you.

As I said, he sleeps every night and he likes doing it with you. He was so happy when you gave him a room in your teapot, since then he didn't need to sleep on the street or sneaking under Diluc's vines to get shelter. But ever since you got intimate with him he doesn't use that room and to be perfectly clear, he has no intentions to go back to it. He crawls into your bed every single night and he loves it.

He uses the cute little pajamas you made for him when Barbara taught you how to sew, sleeping hat and all. He snuggles up to you and demands being little spoon. He snores all night, most of the time softly light a spring breeze, but some nights noisily like a hurricane, and he drools all over your pillow.

Albedo

Your dear friend Albedo, the chalkboy, the homunculus. It took a bit of time of friendship and some nights of sharing the bed with him whether because there was a snowstorm after you visited his lab and you were trapped or because he invited you with a straight face, but you learned about his sleeping habits too.

Very much like Venti, he needs to sleep and eat. He is a nice cook but he has weird tastes, such as eating spiders or so, but when he has guests he cooks decent food. He does have some resistance when it comes to spending some days without sleep, but it's not clear if this is due to his physical nature or his workaholic behavior. Sometimes he works for three days in his experiments running on 3 hours of sleep and caffeine seeminly unaffected. But besides those marathons, he does sleep regularly. He is careful with his health and the health of those close to him, like Klee and Sucrose, and he always exercises and eats healthy. (Matbe thst's why he is obsesses with the nutrients of spider and other unconventional foods) He is a grat brother and a grear friend and makes healthy foods for Klee and forces Sucrose in and out of bed whenever she is in one of those workaholic insomniac marathons or depressive strikes that prevent her from going out. After all, she doesn't have his superhuman resistance.

From the few times you slept with him, you know that he has a comfy double bed in a room behind his lab, sheltered from the frigid environment of Dragonspine. You were super comfy there, but honestly Albedo is kinda restless even when he sleeps. Apparently his curiosity doesn't stop even if he is dreaming, and he twitches and mumbles things about his experiments in his sleep. Sometimes he sits up, turns on the lamp, and writes notes on the notepad he keeps on the nightstand for when he gets ideas in the middle of the night. The few times you were with him, he apologized for waking you up, he gave you a warm smile and a gentle kiss and tucked you back, spooning you just to fall back asleep and mumble things about whopperflowers in your ear while his hand twitched like he was trying to write in his dreams.

Xiao

Xiao doesn't need to sleep. He can go an entire century without doing it, but it doesn't mean that doesn't take a toll on him, or that sleep doesn't help him. In fact, it's wonderful for his health, both psychological and physical, making him get stronger.

But sleeping is not easy for him. He hadn't slept in a long time, because he is scared of stopping his watch over Liyue for the smallest second, and because the nightmares he gets are atrocious.

It was only very deep into his relationship with you that you convinced him to sleep. The bond you have with him is so special, not only you cleanse his karmic debt energy but also your proximity manages to calm him down enough as to fall asleep. It took a long time to reach this stage but then when he laid by his side he could finally sleep, even if Venti was making a ruckus with his snoring and drooling. He loves him too, and wants to protect the both of you. So no, he doesn't need to sleep, and most of the time he is only keeping guard while in bed with you, enjoying the peace and quiet and your proximity, the sound of your breath. But sometimes he does relish in the luxury of sleeping by your side, and the morning after he always feels so refreshed that he feels like a different person: light, stronger, healthy.

He is a big spoon with an iron grip, his protective instincts never go down, not even when he is asleep.

Kuni

Ei created Kuni based on Khaenrian technology that aspired to create perfect humans, (such as Rinherdotir plans for Albedo) with a twist. She didn't want to create a human, he wanted a puppet that could fool humans into thinking that it was one of them.

She did succeed in making him indistinguishable from a human from head to toe. On the outside. But on the inside, he doesn't have the same organs humans have, (not even synthetic, improved humanly organs like the ones Albedo has) but synthetic organs that even if they are not like the ones of humans, they were designed to mimick their noticeable functions.

That is to say, as we all know, Kuni can drink and eat, and feel the flavor of the food. He loves bitter tea and despises sweets. But that doesn't mean he needs to expell those things. In fact, his "stomach" will dissolve everything with a potent acid which its recepy was lost along with Khaenria's demise.

So that's about all his bodily functions: he can perform them, to trick humans, because that was his original purpose. But he doesn't need to do it to survive. Eating, drinking, peeing, breathing. That is unnecessary keeping himself alive. That's just for show (As Kabukimono, not only he began drinking to pass as a human, but also he learned that he had to blink often to make humans less uncomfortable). Or for pleasure.

Because he knows you love when he breathes in your neck when he gives you kisses. And he loves to enjoy the flavor and aftertaste of a bitter black tea. Or to accompany you with a little platter of whatever you two are making for dinner for you and your glutton floaty companion.

Same goes for sleeping. He doesn't need to sleep. He could go an eternity without doing it and he would not die, his body would not get weaker. And as Kunikuzushi and Scaramouche, he never slept, he deemed it lowly and weak and he considered that the fact that he was able to wake himself from the slumber in which Ei put it was a signal of his superiority.

But sleeping is good for his mental health.

Ei planned his body meticulously, making sure to be in control of all his bodily functions. But as we all know, she everything regarding his mind slipped out of her control. She wanted a thoughtless, emotionless, empty puppet. But Kuni is so much more than that.

He had his own thoughts and emotions and desires from his first waking moment, and oh those feelings were human. They were so profoundly human Ei panicked and did what she did. Because if humans do have a soul, then Kuni definitely has one too.

And even if the body and brain don't tire, age or wear down, the mind does. The heart does. The soul does. Going around without sleeping won't make his body crumble, but it sure makes him stressed, irritable, depressed.

He got back in touch with the act of sleeping when he was still the Balladeer, when he started hooking up with you. Just to play. Just to experiment. After your passionate nights, he fell to the temptation of closing his eyes while you were cuddled up against him, nestled in his bed he never used before he met you. He was just planning to rest his eyes for a while, to experiment with those mundane pleasures. He never expected them to feel so good.

Nowadays, he loves sleeping. But it has to be with you. Otherwise, who would comfort him when he gets those atrocious nightmares??

When they don't haunt them, there's nothing better than to cuddle up against you in your shared bedroom in the Teapot after a long day. To close his eyes, hold you tight and relish in the warmth of your human flesh, of your steady breath, of your beating heart. Well, maybe there is something better: to wake up beside you the next morning and play with your hair until you wake up, laughing at you because you're grumpy that he interrupted your sleep.

He demands being big spoon all the time: he NEEDS to cling to you and cage you in his arms all night to feel like you will never abandon him because he truly doesn't want to end up alone again. He doesn't hate being little spoon though, it's just that it makes him feel so...vulnerable. Receiving love always makes him feel so vulnerable. Because it reminds him of how much he is convinced that he doesn't deserve it. So getting in contact with his feelings it's a struggle for him. He prefers when you hug face to face, when you nestle your face in his chest.

The same way he loves your human flesh, you love his truly special body. You love how cool it feels. It's not cold, it's just cool. His warmth is subtle, it's there, but it's not enough to make you sweat under the covers. He is the perfect cuddle buddy for summer! You love the way he syncs his breath to yours until you fall asleep. You love the sound you hear when you press your face to his chest. That sound you found that night when you held Scaramouche close for the first time in his camp. When you discovered it ticked.

He was defensive and ashamed back then, and he is insecure until today. He is convinced he doesn't have a heart, he can't press his ear to his chest, he can't hear the magical sound you claim to hear. He thinks it's your infatuation for him playing tricks with your mind.

But you know what you hear. When you nestle your face in his chest, on the left side, you can hear it. Tic, tac, tic, tac, steady, a mechanical sound ticking like a clock. Tictactictactictac, quickens, if you mamage to fluster him. It's the only sound that soothes your nights, along with your voice, so you sleep by his side every time you can.

But when you're away in yoyr travels, so busy or imprisoned in Meropide Fortress for stealing Furina's cake that you can't even go back to spend the night in the Teapot, what can he do?

He doesn't wanna sleep. There is no point. He has spent ages without doing it, so he can keep going without sleeping until you come back.

But...

He is now a college student, and the mental health toll of having to keep up with the Akademiya classes, his classmates that seem to chase him everywhere, and the constant deadlines of his thesis is too much to bear without sleeping. He knows he wouldn't be able to survive that hell without ending up snapping and kicking some sage's butt if he doesn't sleep regularly. He doesn't want to upset Nahida, so he does sleep when he has time. But it's just not the same without you! Hurry up and come back from those dumb travels to cuddle him!

Author Notes: I guess it surprises no one that Kuni's part is always longer ehe. Homegirl has her favorite. Also I'm super sorry I always do the same: posting a new random thought I had one night instead of finishing chaptwrs of ongoing series I've been promising for ages. I swear I'm working on them. I'm working on finishing that Albedo fic and I had a meeting with my editor (aka my boyfriend) to talk about the major plotpoints of Assembled Love and that gave me some inspo to write the next chapter. Im also working on another spin off chapter for it. (Honestly my most popular post is the other spin off, I wonder why)

Weird of me to post something that it's not smut, ain't it? 🤔 Normally my fluff has smut in it but ig this is like, my 3rd or 4th completely sfw post. Anyway, the posting of something new and random instead of finishing old wips is like a personality trait of mine 🥲 I struggle so much to finish old things cuz I don't find the right vibe that I craved to write something fresh and new. Note to self: hurry up and finish what I'm writing while it's new and the vibe is not gone, exactly what I did with the Assembled Love spin off that blew so much, I pulled an all nighter finishing it before I forgot the plot bc it was a dream I had.

In other news, I haven't had a genshin smutty dream in AGES. I bet that's the cause of my relapse into depression and not the economic crisis. Praying for Kuni to visit me in dreams like old times 🙏

Ig you can see I'm very in the mood of talking about my fics and genshin in general so inncase you are too, my dms and mailbox are always open, and so are my requests.

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gators-aid · 3 months

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decode (pt. 2) - toji f. x reader

previously titled: leave us

masterlist.

part one. | part three.

you and toji fushiguro have been in an on-again-off-again relationship all throughout high school. over the summer break after graduation, you find out you're pregnant. too bad toji has already skipped town after your last breakup.

tags: fem!reader, gun violence, harassment, physical violence, mention of domestic abuse (not between toji & reader), teen pregnancy (reader and toji are both 18-19 range), mentions of abortion, mentioned that toji sold drugs, americanized setting, non sorcerer universe, 00's setting, reader is megumi's mom, toji initially denies megumi is his, i aged up gojo, geto, and shoko so you can have some frens, exes to lovers (eventually), their relationship is toxic rn, not beta read we die like toji :(

wc: 2.7k

4 years later..

You pull Megumi’s hat over his ears to protect them from the cold and squeeze his body closer in your arms. “My mom can’t watch him today, she’s got a doctor's appointment. Shoko and Geto are working right now, too! I promise he won’t cause any trouble. He can sit in a booth while I’m working. Pleeeease, Nanami! You know he’s a good kid!” You beg your boss. He looks down at you and your son, contemplating which rules this would violate.

It’s Gojo who comes to your defense.

“Come on Nanamiiii, I can help her keep an eye on him! You won’t have any problems, my Megumi is the sweetest little thing, aren’t you baby? Aren’t you?” He leans over to squeeze Megumi’s cheek until Megumi turns his head into your chest to escape Gojo’s teasing.

Gojo had taken up working at the diner with you after he dropped out of college on account of, “My family has enough money for me to never have to work again. Why would I waste it in college when I can spend my youth working a minimum wage job for fun?”

You and Shoko had punched him in the face for that one.

“Any disruptions to the customers and you’ll have to figure something else out, Y/N. This is a one time thing. Gojo, don’t let the kid be a distraction to you. You need to stop forgetting you have tables all the time.” You smile and give Gojo a victory high five. “Are you excited to spend the day with mama, Megumi?”

Megumi had turned four a couple of weeks ago. You two now lived in your own modest apartment. It was close to your mother’s house and your job. Usually your mother would keep Megumi for you during work hours, and when that wasn’t available Gojo, Geto, or Shoko would help you out. With all four contenders busy, there was no choice but for you to bring Megumi with you to work. Babysitters and daycare were out of the question on your salary of shitty tips. You could barely afford the apartment. The only way you could get furniture into it was on a loan from Gojo (which he refused to let you pay back).

You, Nanami and Gojo walk into the back of the building through the kitchen to punch in. “Our little Megumi’s gonna be joining us today!” Gojo announces to the kitchen staff, mainly comprised of high school students and Hakari. You hear various coos as you walk Megumi through the kitchen. “Can you say ‘hi,’ baby?” You whisper to Megumi through his knitted hat.

He pulls his face from the interior of your sweater and meekly waves to the staff, who all burst into bright smiles. There had been a few times your mother had brought Gumi to the diner to see you during hours, meaning the staff had not only heard of, but had seen Megumi around quite a bit.

Megumi, unlike his father, was incredibly shy and quiet even for his young age. He was one of the best babies you could ever ask for. He cried of course, even had a nasty case of colic when he was little, but on average he cried far less than a normal kid. For a while you were concerned, bringing him to every doctor your insurance would allow to get second opinion after second opinion. Their conclusion? It’s just his personality.

"It seems like he cried all his tears out during his first couple of weeks!" One doctor had joked. Yeah, so had you.

Every time you looked at Megumi, you saw Toji. Their resemblance was undeniable. Sometimes it felt as if he hadn’t inherited a single genetic trait from you. Some days, it made you more sad than others. You hadn’t seen any baby pictures of Toji, didn’t think his family even owned any, but if you had to guess, Megumi had to be the spitting image. You’d see old classmates you hadn’t talked to in years only for them to comment on how much they resembled each other. Not knowing about you and Toji's dramatic breakup.

You and Gojo punch in and take off your coats to hang them up on the rack. Yuki, one of your newer coworkers, bursts through the door with a few empty water glasses. “Agh, thank god you two are here!” She exclaims, setting them down by the sink. “I’ve got this table of guys that are driving me batshit. The kitchen guys don’t get it. I need a freakin’ break.”

You giggle at her and take off Megumi’s hat from where you’re holding him on your hip. “I can take the next one!” You hang up Megumi’s hat next to your coat. “Just let me get him situated.” Yuki gasps and runs over to you. “Hi Megumi! I’ve heard so much about you! It’s nice to meet you, I’m Yuki! Oh my god, Y/N he’s so freakin’ cute!” She exclaims.

Gojo and Yuki get to talking shit about her table while you walk out onto the floor to choose a booth for Megumi to sit. You choose the one furthest from the door and closest to the kitchen and set him down on a side where you’ll be able to see him clearly for the majority of your shift. “Okay Gumi, I’m gonna be working but I’m gonna come over and check on you a lot too, okay?” You set your bag next to him and pull out a few toys and a coloring book. “I’ll get the kitchen guys to sneak you some food, okay?” He nods and grabs a blue crayon from his half empty box. “Okay, mama.” He replies in the sweetest voice you've ever heard.

You give him a kiss on his forehead and move a piece of his hair behind his ear before moving to the other side of the booth and adjusting your waist apron. “Y/N, you got table three.” Yuki announced. You looked behind you to see Gojo and Yuki approaching Megumi’s table. “Megumiiiii! What are you coloring?” Gojo slid into the seat next to Megumi and his toys.

“How many?” You asked Yuki. “Just two.” She responded, “The one guy’s hot, maybe you could get laid tonight.” You scoffed. “First of all, don’t say shit like that on the floor when we have customers who may hear you.” You give her a pointed look, “secondly, you’re too young to be talking about intercourse. You’re like twelve.” You smile at her and turn around to go greet your table.

“I’m literally 18!” Yuki exclaims as you walk away.

“Exactly the point!” Gojo responds for you.

You pull out your server book as you approach your table and click your pen. “Hi, I’m Y/N, welcome to-” when you look up, you freeze.

First, you see Jinichi, Toji’s brother. When your eyes move over to the other side of the booth, you see him in the flesh for the first time in five years.

He’s looking down at the table, so you can’t see his face, but from his build alone you can see he’s almost doubled in muscle mass since you last saw him. His hair is longer, bangs falling over his eyes, and he sports a black muscle tee to show off how much he has bulked up over the years. He's intentionally avoiding your gaze.

All the feelings you’ve felt over these five years, anger, rage, resentment, loss, pain, sadness. They all come rushing back at once. Five years of wondering what he was up to while you stayed up with Megumi as a newborn when he had colic and wouldn’t stop crying for almost a month straight. As you operated on auto pilot and almost cried when you saw him smile again. As you cared for him through his first flu, which you had eventually caught too. Rushing him to the hospital for a slight rise in temperature as your mother convinced you over the phone that everything would be okay and you sobbed hysterically. When Megumi took his first steps, when he said his first word. You always thought of Toji.

How would he have reacted? You may not have trusted him, but you don’t think he’d be a particularly bad father if he were to put in the effort. Every time Megumi smiles, every time he frowns, it looks like Toji has walked right back into your life. When you two talked about kids, it was never very serious. You always talked about the idyllic. How many you’d have, what their names would be, if you’d move out to the countryside so they’d have space to play. You never discussed how you wanted to raise them, how you two would afford it, if Toji would stop dealing.

“Well, well, fucking well!” Jinichi starts. “This is just fucking hilarious!” You can see Toji tense up where his elbows rest on the table. Jinichi leaned back in his seat looking back and forth between you and Toji. “High school fucking sweethearts! Look at this shit, Toji, that's your girl right there! Hey Y/N-” Before Jinichi can finish his sentence, Toji bangs his hands on the table, making the condiment bottles rattle loudly, and bringing the entire restaurant's attention towards the three of you. Toji mumbles something under his breath that you can’t pick up. You’re still physically frozen in place.

Jinichi had always been an asshole. Toji didn’t like you to go over to his house for multiple reasons relating to his family, but one of the major ones was because of his brother. Jinichi always had a smart mouth. Liked to put dumb ideas in Toji’s head, one of which was the one that eventually got him shot and bleeding out on your bedsheets.

“Ahh, come on little brother. You’re so intense nowadays. We’re here for a good ol-”

“We’re here for fucking business, Jinichi. Shut the fuck up. We don’t want nothin’.” Toji says, finally addressing you without even looking your way. You feel someone grab onto your shoulder and quickly turn to see Gojo. He gently pulls you away from the table.

“I- I didn’t-” you begin, before Gojo can even get you five feet from the table, Jinichi is back at it. “Hey, what the hell, don’t take my waitress! I ain’t ordered nothin’ yet! Hey Y/N, you look good by the way! Usually girls get ugly after they have babies!”

It’s so sudden and quick that if you weren’t five steps away, you wouldn’t have seen it at all. Toji leans over the table, somehow calmly and aggressively at the same time, to grab his brother by the collar of his shirt. “That’s enough. Don’t make me fucking tell you again.” He says, his tone quiet and deadly.

All you can think about is Megumi, where the fuck is Megumi? He’s your priority right now. Your head whips toward Megumi’s table, where you see Yuki with her hand on Megumi’s shoulder as he watches you intensely.

“Fuck. Gumi.” You whisper to yourself.

You pull away from Gojo’s grasp to race toward your son. “Mama..” he whispers as you reach him and pull him tightly into a hug. “It’s okay honey. Don’t worry about it.” You firmly grasp the back of his neck to ground yourself. This is exactly why you had said all those things you said to Toji all those years ago. You didn’t want your child growing up in an unstable environment. You didn’t want Toji’s issues to be a cause of stress for yourself or for Megumi. It'd be slightly different if these were two random guys in the diner. Sure, you'd shield Megumi if it got intense, but the fact that one was his father made the hair on the back of your neck stand up at the slightest movement.

“You look sad mama. Did the big men hurt you?” You laugh at his innocence. “No, baby. They didn’t hurt me.” They did hurt you. In a deep emotional way that you didn’t feel like explaining to a four year old right now. “Let's go honey, little kids shouldn’t see this.”

“I’m a little kid, right?” He asks. “Yes, you are.”

“What the hell is going on?” You hear a booming voice come from the kitchen door and see Nanami walking towards Toji’s table. “Nothings going on!” Jinichi yells. “You know how the little brothers are, always got a goddamned inferiority complex goin’ on or somethin’!” Toji still has a grasp on his shirt as Jinichi is yelling at Nanami.

“I’m going to have to ask you two to leave.” Nanami says calmly. “I ain’t fucking leaving. I came here for some fuckin’ service from my brother’s old-” Suddenly, Jinichi’s head is being slammed onto the table, and a collective gasp is aroused from the restauraunt.

“Come, Gumi.” You pick him up in your arms. “Yuki, can you pack his stuff up for me please?” You ask as you contemplate your next move. “Of course, of course.” You can’t head to the front or kitchen door without Gumi potentially seeing more violence. You would have to rush past in the hopes that nothing else happens while you’re moving by. The kitchen door is closer from here, less potential for Megumi to see anything.

“Ok, Gumi. Can you close your eyes for me real quick, baby?” You ask, rubbing his back. “Ok, mama.” You move Megumi so that his face is pressed to your chest and book it toward the kitchen door. You hear more commotion as you pass by, but will yourself not to turn around and check. Gojo and Yuki follow you in from behind with your bag. When you’re in the kitchen, you’re quick to set Megumi on the ground to grab his hat and secure it on his head.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I never would’ve given you that table if I knew.” She apologizes as she hands you your bag. You laugh. “It’s not your fault Yuki. By the way, remember what I said about no intercourse? You wanna implement that policy because of fuckers like him-” “Mama!” Megumi chastises. “Sorry, bad word.” Yuki lets out a relieved sigh.

“I didn’t even see them walk in, Y/N-” Gojo starts. “Oh my gosh guys, it's not a big deal! Seriously, I’m just worried about Gumi seeing anything.” Even as you say this, your hands shake as you attempt to zip up Megumi’s coat. Gojo gives you a knowing look and grabs your own coat off the rack for you.

“I just, um, need a little break. I can’t afford to lose out on the money tonight.” You say, grabbing your coat from him and sliding it on. “I’ll cover you-” Gojo starts, but you interrupt. “I’m not taking money from your family, Gojo!” You pick up Megumi and hold him on your hip. “I’m not saying that. I’ll split the tips from tonight with you. My apology for not seeing them before.”

“No, Gojo.”

Nanami walks in the kitchen door. “Take the day off,” he says to you before walking back to his office. “No, Nanami I’m ok I’ll just take him to my mom’s really quick-”

“You’re too shaken up to do anything else today. I’ll schedule you more next week to make up for it.” Nanami supplies. “Thank you.” You say, silently relieved. Was your distress seriously that obvious? You would have to tone it down in front of Gumi.

“Wooow Nanami you’re such a good manager-”

“Can it Gojo, you’re gonna have to pick up the slack tonight.”

You’re already making your way out the back of the building when Gojo responds with a whine.

“Hey what the hells going on out there?” Hakari asks as you walk by. “Some bullshit.” You respond. “Mama!”

You weren’t even in the building for thirty minutes today, but it feels thirty degrees cooler when you walk out. The trek to the bus stop is gonna suck.

It's a ten minute walk from the diner to the bus stop. You cling onto Megumi for warmth, making sure he's buried not only in his own coat, but in yours. When you get to the bus stop, you realize it’s gonna be another fifteen minutes before the bus comes. Megumi isn’t one to complain, but you can feel him shivering under you. “Just a little longer baby.” You soothe him, rapidly rubbing his back and arms in an attempt to warm him.

It must be some sick joke for an old pickup truck to pull right in front of the bus stop and roll its window down.

“Do you need a ride?” Toji asks.

You've gotta be fucking kidding.

part two is up! thanks so much for all the love on the first on! 70 notes is crazy!

pls send requests or questions to me! and also let me know if i missed anything in the tags!

thank you guys !!!

(i'll make a masterlist maybe when pt 3 goes up but im too lazy rnnnnnn)

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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boba-beom · 10 days

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౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ pretty angel | CHOI YEONJUN

⟢ bf!yeonjun x fem!reader

⟢ drabble; fluff, suggestive

⟢ cuddles and morning kisses are always a good start to your day, especially when it's with your cute boyfriend.

⟢ wc: 576

⟢ warnings: established relationship, physical affection, petnames; (baby, angel and princess), domestic boyfriend jjun agenda, kisses and lots of them. let me know if I've missed anything!

⟢ a/n: this is my late birthday gift to my angel, Angie ᡣ𐭩 @junniieesbby. I've been in a slump with writing recently but I really hope you enjoy this one!! getting out cute boyfriend jjunie for the dash :>

turning softly under the duvet of your bed, you're woken up by the warmth of your boyfriend's body radiating next to yours. his lips plush as he pecks at random points along your cheek, down your neck and down to your shoulders until you open your eyes, meeting into his sleepy ones, yet they twinkled as you held eye contact.

"morning cutie, slept well?" yeonjun's hoarse voice rumbles against your shoulder as his arm slings over your still figure.

you let out a hum as you stretch out your arm and letting it drape over yeonjun's broad shoulder when you bring it back down. his smile was incredibly sweet, cheek squished against the pillow and the side of your shoulder.

"I always sleep well when you're beside me, baby."

you giggle to yourself when you felt his hold on get tighter after the simple petname. yeonjun's the most affectionate between the both of you—you of course coming in a close second. but he never fails to compliment you when he feels like you need it the most, or even give you that physical affection, because truthfully it's something you both yearn for when you know you're about to spend the day together.

"aren't you cute," he tucks a stray strand of hair away from your face, cupping your cheek as his thumb caresses your skin. "you look good too."

"agh, what are you talking about." you refuse to believe him knowing just how rough you look in the mornings, but that never changed yeonjun's mind.

he shakes his head, jutting out his bottom lip into a cute pout that makes you want to kiss his lips.

"you're my pretty angel, how can you say that about yourself?" he kisses your shoulder again, this time a little slower. you can feel him dragging his lips along your skin and working his way towards the side of your neck and focusing on that area.

"mmh, you never fail to flatter me, baby." you sigh when his fingers begins to skim over your stomach, feathery touches that made you suck in lightly. "you're too good to me jjunnie."

"just giving you what you deserve, and that's all my love for you sweetheart."

yeonjun's weight on his bed shifts as he lays his body between your legs, burying his face into your neck while he pecks the area non-stop. his kisses managed to give you goosebumps, the tingling spreading across your skin. your giggles and sighs fill his ears and your boyfriend does the same. chuckling against your skin at how cute you are while you react to his kisses.

his hips however, have a mind of their own. rolling in a slow yet delicious rhythm that almost has you bucking your hips up to chase that friction you both are in dire need of.

"so good to me jjunie." you whisper again.

you circle your hands behind his neck and along his broad shoulders and under the neckline of his tank top. the heat of his skin warms up the palms of your hands until you tangle your fingers in his hair at the back of his head.

"wanna have breakfast in bed princess?" he lifts his head as his half lidded eyes look down at you with a cocky grin on display.

you gasp at the feeling of his gentle fingers hooking on the waistband of your shorts, pushing them down until your bare ass hit the sheets beneath you.

"sounds perfect to me."

taglist: @bb-eilish @ericyjun @ericyjun @luvsoobs @yeonyeonyeonjun @junniieesbby @kyrkitten @day6andetcetera @dainsleif-when-playable @txt-yaomi @soobinsman @choiwrld @ahnneyong @wccycc @lizdevorak @fairybin @Laylasbunbunny @acaiasahi @itaehynz @cha0thicpisces @fairybinie @yunkiwii @prodsh00ky @aprilisque @ja4hyvn @https-yeonjun @lovejoshua @seolis-world @jak-ey @smutnoullitheorem @my313

#k-labels #kflixnet #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun x fem reader #yeonjun drabbles #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun suggestive #yeonjun soft hours #txt fluff #txt drabbles #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt x fem reader #txt x reader #txt suggestive #txt soft hours #smiles writes ౨ৎ

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tightjeansjavi · 2 months

Text

The Rite of Movement | drabble

“blooper reels with my baby love”

A/N: the wife @strang3lov3 demanded (endearingly) for Joel and baby love to have silly fun sex, and silly fun sex they shall have! If you ain’t gigglin’ and tootin’ in the bedroom, then tf are you doin’, baby love? 🤭

~word count: 1.8k~ (don’t ask…just smile and nod)

Summary: sex isn’t always sexy and blooper free, baby love.

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: none, fluff, smut, domestic intimacy, real sex, amateur porn video, normal bodily functions, bloopers, established relationship, unprotected piv, flirting, teasing, intimacy, creampie, cock warming, mommy kink??, Joel is in his 40’s and reader is in her 30’s, reader has no physical descriptions (mentions of readers breasts being big) readers nickname is baby love, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

Everything that could have possibly gone amiss during yours and Joel’s filming session for the day went wrong. It started with the UPS delivery driver giving Joel a funny look when he had to sign for a box that was clearly from Pornhub due to the painfully obvious black and orange packing tape.

What made the situation even more awkward is that the driver looked at Joel’s face for a hard minute, trying to decipher if he had seen his face somewhere…and then Joel watched the driver grow flustered at the realization that he did in fact see Joel’s face somewhere before.

But before Joel could even tell the poor guy to have a nice day, he was scurrying back to his truck and speeding off down the street.

“Amateur.” Joel mumbled to himself, chuckling under his breath and closed the door before locking it. He set the box down on the nearest available surface and headed upstairs.

He found you naked, and sprawled out on the comforter with Artemis curled up on your chest, using your breasts as her own little personal pillow while you gently stroked her fur.

“I think the UPS delivery driver has watched our stuff before, baby love.” Joel announced from the opening of the bedroom door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his bare chest.

You glanced over at him, grin playing on your lips as you listened to Artemis’s happy little purrs. “Oh? What gave the poor guy away?”

He pushed himself off the side of the doorframe, making his way over to the bed and plopped down beside you, making himself comfortable on his stomach and propped himself up on his elbow, “Well, I think it had to do with the non discreet packaging that Pornhub decided to use, and the way he was lookin’ at me?” He reached across you with his freehand and gave Artemis a few scritches behind her ears.

You giggled softly, picturing the poor delivery driver's face when he realized that he had seen your boyfriend on the hub before. “Was the packaging discreet at all? Did you open it?”

“Nah. They had the Pornhub orange and black tape plastered all over the damn box. And no, I didn’t open it. Didn’t wanna waste another second when I knew that my baby was waitin’ for me. M’shocked I didn’t get a hard on jus’ thinkin’ of ya down there, baby love.”

You laughed again, reaching over and gently swatted at his bare shoulder. “You’re a dork, Joel. And an insatiably horny one at that.”

He snorted under his breath, shaking his head with a grin. “Well, can ya blame a guy? Got the most gorgeous woman laid out in my sheets. You best believe that my cock is always ready for you.”

“Joel!” You scolded him, covering Artemis’s ears with one hand, “Not in front of our child!”

He laughed, the skin around his eyes crinkling in the corners as he threw his head back, giggling like the buffoon he was. “Baby love, that ain’t even the worst she’s ever heard from us! She’ll be fine.” He reassured you.

“She’s still a child, Joel.” You said with a huff, kissing the top of her furry head.

“Yes, she is, and unfortunately our child is gonna have to leave the premises now unless she wants to be scarred for life.” He said playfully.

“Well, I’m not gonna move her. You see how comfy she is right now? She’s in heaven.”

He snickered, “yeah, well no shit sherlock. She’s using your tits as her own personal pillow. Don’t worry, baby love. I ain’t jealous or anything.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you’re not feeling jealous right now Joel.”

“I ain’t!” He reiterated in a non convincing tone, and as soon as he reached for Artemis to gently lift her from where she was laying on your chest, she hissed and swatted at his hand with her paw.

��Hey!” He softly yelled, “I know her tits are like two fluffy clouds for ya, but there’s no swatting at me, young lady!” He scolded her as if she truly was able to understand what he was saying.

She hissed and swatted at him once more before she dashed out of his reach, ducking right under the bed before he could grab ahold of her.

You were in a fit of giggles over the whole thing until he looked over at you with a narrowed glare, lips pouted and looking extra kissable. “Think that’s funny, do ya?” He scoffed, “I’ll show you funny, baby love.”

When you and Joel finally got to business after messing around with one another for nearly an hour, he was having camera issues and of course the damn ring light stopped working halfway through!

This resulted in Joel fiddling with the switch, checking the wall outlet and adapter while you kept yourself stimulated. He looked rather silly being hunched over, balls hanging heavy between his thighs, muttering under his breath when the ring light still wasn’t working.

“Damn, baby. If only you could see my view from here!” You said teasingly with your hand between your spread thighs. He looked over his shoulder at you, narrowing his eyes and shook his head. “When I fix this damn thing, you are toast, baby love.” His threat was playful, but you knew he was dead serious.

“…If you ever fix it, that is.” You added.

“Hush up over there. I’m gonna fix it, dontcha worry your pretty little mind or pussy about it.” He gruffed out, giving the side of the ring light a firm smack! (As if that was going to fix it)

By some miracle, Joel smacking the shit out of it actually did work and he wasn’t going to waste another second before he practically launched himself back on the bed like a big cat pouncing on its prey. You’re both a mess of tangled lips, tongues and moans when he slips back inside of your messy cunt with ease.

The obscene squelching sounds your pussy made around his cock, and each heavy, deep thrust of his hips, spurred him on further as he withdrew his cock halfway. The thick, veiny girth of his cock was coated in a thick ring of your milky arousal gleaming under the soft glow of the ring light. He took a lungful of air, gearing up to give you his all: the grand finale as he slammed his hips forward, punching his cock into your cunt with a force that nearly knocked the own air from your lungs, eyes rolling back slightly when the head of his cock kissed your cervix, keening your hips to meet his deep thrust. And then you hear it. The sound is unmistakable, and the sudden growing redness on Joel’s already flushed cheeks confirms that you’re not having an auditory hallucination.

“Did you just…?” Your question hangs heavy in the heady, sex stained air.

His brows are furrowed together, sweat beading along the ridges on his forehead. He lets out a huff of air, cheeks turning an even brighter red. His head hangs between his shoulders in shame, and it’s hard for you to suppress the giggles from slipping past your lips.

“‘Scuse me, baby love.” He wheezes out an apology just as Artemis lets out the faintest gagging sound from the smell and darts out from under the bed and immediately runs to the door, slipping past the small opening in a successful escape.

You thread your fingers through the back of his hair, pulling him down so your faces are close together, “better out than in, ain’t that right?” You said with a giggle, rubbing your noses together.

He goes all bashful, cheeks still flushed red as you pepper his face with adorning kisses, “you fucked it outta me, baby love. My bad. ‘Scuse me again.” He grumbled.

“Baby, I don’t care that you farted. It’s natural, and it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, but you need to make me come, otherwise I’m gonna have to do it myself.”

“Oh, heavens! I can’t! Not after that! I’m so embarrassed right now, baby love. You’re just gonna have to continue without me.” He said dramatically, burying his face into your neck.

“Oh, baby. There, there. How about you roll over, and I’ll ride you the rest of the time? You can just lay there and look extra pretty for me.” You suggested.

You could feel his lips curve up into a grin against your glistening skin where he began to press light open mouthed kisses. “Okay. That’ll work, baby love.” He said in agreement.

What kinda man would he be if he turned down getting to see your pretty tits bounce while you rode his cock? Only fools would turn down that opportunity! Joel may have been a little embarrassed from passing a bit of gas, but he was no fool.

So, that’s how you ended up seated on his cock, giving him the perfect view that men dreamed of experiencing with you, but would never have the chance to. But of course your boyfriend was still feeling bashful over the whole incident and refused to look you in the eyes as you rode him. He brought his arms crossed over his face, hiding his eyes from your view until you had enough and grabbed his wrists in your palms, pinning them on either side of his head.

“Hey, you’re gonna look me in the eyes right now, or you don’t get to come.” You warned him. And between your stern tone, and his wrists clasped in your hands, he was in absolute sub heaven.

“Okay, mommy.” He said in his best sub voice.

You both burst into a mess of giggles, unable to take the moment seriously as you gently fell on top of his chest, tears welling in the corner of your eyes from how hard you were laughing. “Oh my god! Of course Tommy is the one with the daddy kink, and you’re the one with the mommy kink!”

Joel was mortified as he buried his face between your tits, hoping they would suffocate him and put him out of his misery.

“Shuddup. I didn’t say that! I never—okay, so it slipped. Big deal!” He scoffed between your breasts, blowing a light raspberry against your soft skin. “For the record, we are not uploading this.”

“Oh, fuck off! We absolutely have to upload this, Joel. We’ll title it, ‘blooper reels with my baby love’. And people will eat that shit up!”

He let out a strained groan, burying his face further into your breasts. “Fine.” He gave in, wrapping his strong arms around you, hugging you tightly to him before he thrusted upwards into your spent cunt with no given warning. “Only after you come all over my fuckin’ cock, baby love.”

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star-sim · 4 months

Text

say it back! ☆ jay park

☆ non-idol! bf! jay x fem! reader ☆ summary: jay thinks you're really cute, especially when you're mad. ☆ genre: fluff!! implied college! au / young adult! au , super domestic and cutesy ☆ warning(s)? nope! ☆ word count: 1.1k ☆ after supermassive blackhole i realized just how many jay stans followed me, so eat up guys 😛

It was a Friday evening. The sun was beginning to set, casting a vibrant peach-orange glow over Jay’s apartment.

With a navy-blue apron hanging loosely from his neck, Jay took in the scent of garlic chives and caramelized onions marinating in the pan. With a spatula, he popped in a lump of gochujang, stirring in the hot, red paste.

If Jay had to be honest, he spent most of his time just touching you, his girlfriend. Not in a sexual way. Any physical touch with you was more than enough. Whether it be cuddling on the couch or you clinging onto him while he did things, the intimacy of having skin-on-skin contact was everything.

On days like this, Jay was the one cooking dinner. Not-so-surprising, you were an absolute mess in the kitchen, so he took on that responsibility. You should be home soon. You had taken up an internship a weeks ago, so you had to stay just a tad later than usual.

As Jay immersed himself in the gorgeous aromas of his craft, he thought of what he should do with you later.

He could watch a movie with you, but knowing you, you would probably be all over him. He never expected you to be the clingy, needy type, doing whatever you could to snuggle up against his warm body. Jay’s lips parted before spreading into a gummy grin. He could imagine your voice:

“Baaabe,” you would whine, plopping yourself in between his legs. You would tangle your arms with his, or maybe you'd place his hands in your hair and make him play with it.

If his eyes were glued to the TV for long enough, you would pout, before peppering soft kisses against his neck. Jay would pretend to ignore you, making you whine again.

“Give me attention,” you would murmur against his ear.

Oh man, Jay felt giddy and warm inside just thinking about it.

What he wouldn’t do just to have you come home already—

The door clicked open.

“I’m home!”

Speak of the devil and you will appear.

Jay heard a few footsteps and a giggle before feeling arms slither around his torso.

“Hi,” you mumbled against his back.

Jay grinned. “Hi, Angel.”

You peeked over his shoulder, taking in the scent of his cooking. “Smells good.”

“Go wash up, baby,” Jay said. “I’m almost done.”

“Okayyy,” you squeezed his waist. You gave Jay a small peck on the cheek. You drawled, “I love youuuu!”

Jay hummed.

He heard you huff.

“I love you,” you repeated.

“Mhm.”

There’s a pulse of silence before you pulled away, leaving him alone.

When you left, he couldn’t help but smile so stupidly.

You were going to drive him crazy.

You were so cute, and adorable, and pretty, and beautiful, and gorgeous, and precious, and everything that he loved. He wanted to hold you in his arms forever and kiss you forever and be with you forever and-

How many kids should you and him have? He’d always wanted two boys and a girl, but he wouldn’t mind having more. Later down the line, when you and him got older, he’d buy you a pretty diamond ring— in fact, he’d buy you everything that you’ve ever wanted. And then you and him will get married and buy a house. Would you take his last name? [Name] Park didn’t sound too bad. People would call you Mrs. Park, and instead of calling you by your first name, Jay would refer to you as “my wife,” and—

He was feeling dizzy just thinking about it. Was he getting ahead of himself?

“Are you mad at me?” your voice suddenly said.

Jay jumped. He whipped his head around to see you with your arms crossed and a big, sulky frown.

Were you standing there the whole time?

“B-Babe, I thought you went to the bathroom…”

You shook your head.

“Are you mad at me?” you repeated. Taking a few steps forward, you turned him around, pressing him up against the kitchen counter while holding his hands together.

“Wait, what?” Jay’s brows knitted together. “Baby, where is this coming from?”

“You…” you began, averting your gaze. “You didn’t say it back.”

Jay cocked his head. “Say what back?”

You huffed. “I said I love you, and you didn’t say it back.”

You tilted your head so that he couldn’t see your pouty face, playing with his fingers. You murmured something under your breath, something that he couldn’t quite hear.

Jay stared at you for a few seconds, processing everything. And then, he threw his head back, loud bouts of laughter emitting from his lips. Every time that he would calm down and look at you, your sulky face would make him burst back into his fit of giggles.

“It’s not funny!” you slapped his shoulder, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment. When he wouldn’t stop laughing, you turned away, punching him on the arm, “You’re a jerk, Jay.”

At that, Jay immediately stopped laughing.

“Wait, I’m sorry!” Jay clasped your hands in his, pulling you close to him so that you were flushed against his chest.

You frowned.

“It's too late to apologize,” you mumbled.

Jay almost chuckled at your grumpiness, but stopped himself before you’d be even more upset with him.

You stayed like that for a few moments: Jay holding you close against the kitchen counter, fingers loosely intertwined.

Finally, Jay poked your cheek.

“Hey!”

“Don’t be mad at me, Angel.”

Your frown deepened.

Jay sighed.

Bringing a large hand up, he gently grabbed your face, bringing it closer.

“What are you-”

Jay began littering chaste kisses all across your face– he started at your cheek, moved up to your forehead, down your nose, to your other cheek, and lastly to your chin, where he teased you by kissing just close enough to your lips. He exaggerated by making loud kissy noises to further rile you up.

“Stoooooppp,” you whined, but made no attempt to resist him.

Jay let out a low chuckle. He cupped your cheeks. He ghosted his lips over yours, reveling in the way that you automatically closed your eyes and wet your lips in anticipation. He contemplated whether or not he should pull away to tease you, but decided against it.

Who was he to deny you?

When your lips met, you let out an excited squeal, squeezing his bicep. When you guys pulled away, Jay breathed against your lips, “I love you.”

“Baby...” you mewled, sliding your hands up his chest to hook around his neck.

“I love you,” he repeated himself, leaning in to give your lips a peck. “I love you so fucking much.”

You giggled softly, your breath brushing against his cheek. “I love you, too.”

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