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evilminji · 2 months

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Okay, but... now I'm wondering >.>

@the-witchhunter We talked about Danny being Morningstar's feral, probably engineering oils and ectoplasmic goo covered, mad scientist/himbo hybrid (attack) purse dog. His special lil guy.

But!

I seek your Knowledge(TM).

From second hand accounts? He seems to HATE the hypocrisy. The blaming HIM for humanity's own choices. The rat race and endless song n dance of "Righteous Good VS. Cartoonish Evil". Because it let's humanity paint themselves the helpless victims. Because it's all surface level. Because it is not so easy to escape the ugliness of your Sins, yet they keep trying to scapegoat him.

Fuck um.

He was tired of it.

But? He still has CONSIDERABLE POWER. It's probably written down. And the Ring Of Rage? Is proooobably not the loveliest of artifacts? I imagine, like the Crown, it's NOT leaving Danny alone. One of those "we don't CARE if there is no throne left to sit upon, you WILL wear us, as King" sort of systems.

It genuinely would not and DOES NOT matter, if not a single soul in all the Zone bows to him. Did he defeat the previous holder of their Right To Rulership? Yes or No.

If No, fuck off.

If Yes, new monarch.

Is it hurting him? Not the rings problem. Nor the Crown's. Heavy is the weight, etc etc. But! DANNY would certainly care. He is... is ANGRY all the time now. Has no idea who would even MAKE this bullshit ring. Why JUST Rage? Yeah, it makes ghosts stronger, but at what COST?

He can't even get rid of it!

......by himself.

Luckily, he's still clear headed enough to know that he's NOT in this by himself. And it's amazing what "mom, dad, this ring is trying to drive me insane. Help me" in a terrified and tearful voice, can brush over. No one threatens their baby and all that.

It would honestly be hilarious, seeing the extended Fenton clan decend like LOCUSTS on Pariahs Keep, searching for clues, terrifying the local ghosts, if... if he wasn't so tired.

God he's so tired.

It's Aunt Alecia who... "politely encourages" a passing scholar to lend them the book they need. Took the poor sucker right out of the sky. Guy never stood a chance. RIP.

He learns he has to head..... over? Like... 27 that-ish way, then up. Huh. 27 WHAT?

Realities, apparently. He's in the wrong bundle. Branch? Neighborhood? Eh. Clan Fenton rolls back out, he packs his bags, and hilariously enough? Goes off to the devils night club. Hopes he likes rings. Or hates them.

Thankfully, being "king" means the Zone? Kinda... humors him? Like... it still has RULES(tm). He can... can FEEL that now. But it's willing to bend some for him, if he asks. And anything NOT against the rules? If it's in the right mood? He need only ask. It's weird. Being suddenly so powerful, yet NOT, at the same time.

Cause none of it's his.

All he has is the Zone's attention. The ability to ask pretty please. If you don't mind. And then? The highways between... ALL will just? Shift and change for him. He can see how it went to Pariah's head. The Zone is pretty agreeable. Is by nature Amoral, cause it's not a Being, it's... well, it's the Zone.

And everyone wants him to ask things. Do things. Demand this or that. Use this power.

Maybe he doesn't WANT too! Maybe he didn't WANT to be king! Doesn't he have the right to say NO? To refuse? Why do they think he OWES them service? An eternity of politics and people trying to kill him, for something he never wanted in the FIRST PLACE.

He's so tired.

The nightclub's pretty cool.

So he comes to ask, politely of course, cause the guy's probably busy, if Morningstar could... dunno, fix or destroy it? Want a ring, maybe? Also he heard you MADE the stars. Huge fan of all of that. Can I ask about the process? Or are you in the middle of something?

And? Lucifer? Turns around, from where he's Leaning Seductive Yet Elegantly(tm) to see... scrawny. Tiny corpse child. No... half? Corpse? Alive. Dying. Alive yet dying. Huh. Well, that is different. And here he didn't think he'd get see anything NEW. You, child, are NOT a zombie. What are you?

Halfa.

I have no idea what that is. What do you want?

He gets shown the ugliest, crudest, peice of shit ring imaginable. A genuine foul little curse. Really stinks up the place. He destroys it, obviously. This club has STANDARDS. Hope that wasn't important?

Kid just smiles the biggest fangy lil grin. No. No it was not.

Obvious, lie, but cute lil teeth. He'll allow it.

He gets dragged into talking about the stars. And talking. And talking. Mostly bragging and explaining. Kid hangs off his every word. Follows him around as he makes his rounds. Asks good questions. Completely focused, dispite the booze and barely dressed dancing all around him.

Lucifer can't help notice the crown.

Lovely little thing. Space ice and star dust, glittering like jewels and light catching the mist. If he remembers right... that one iiiiiis..... not Limbo, it's.... Zone! That crown is the Zone, it changes to suit the wearer. He recognizes the vibe. Awfully young, aren't you?

And.... it all burst forth. He didn't even need to press. Use persuasive words and honeyed tones. Like an inflamed, festering wound. The merest brush is enough to spill everything.

Negligence, greed, blood lust. Bigotry and xenophobia. A tyrants endless quest for power. Ah, humans. They truly don't change do they? Realities away, dead or alive. Now they're harrasing a child. He honestly looks miserable. Whereas just a moment before, listening to Lucifer talk about his work on the stars, his soul practically GLOWED with light. A tiny little star unto himself.

.......maybe it's the big ol "I'm you BIGGEST FAN" eyes. The sad wet cat aura. Perhaps the scrawny "could snap you like a twig" teenager, all elbows and knees. The fact he is, in fact, NOT human; for all that he once was. But?? The kid? Is... not terrible company.

He'd even go so far as to say? It's like having a pet intern.

He can sleep on the couch.

Tell you what, you stay here? I'll keep taking about stars and YOU can do the chores I don't feel like doing. I'll take care of you and all that.

And Danny? Honestly was sold at the word "stars" but? This sounds like a phenomenally terrible idea... and he has yet to meet one of THOSE he hasn't made out sloppy still with, so deal! But as a minor, that DOES make you his new gaurdian for the next four-ish years. He's legally obligated to finish schooling.

Ah.

.....well shit.

(Just? Local stressed 14-15 year old Ghost King does RESPONSIBILE thing and finds Adultier Adult. With more qualified Adult powers. Unfortunately for everyone, the adult is Lucifer Morningstar, night club owner. Even MORE Unfortunately, said ghost kind has pack bonded with the Nice Star Man, who saved him from the Bad Ring, and effectively offered to let him crash on his swanky couchs.

Now Morningstar has to? Somewhat VAGUELY pretend he gives a shit local schooling system, as he puts his charge INTO it. Actively giving waking terrors to the magical community. What evil plot is afoot? Where did he get this tiny minor death god? What is his end goal FOR said child?

No one knooooows~

But Lucifer is just doing this cause he's a Being of his word. He hates the tedious minor chores he'll be foisting off onto Danny. And? Most importantly? Look at that face. *shoujo sparkly eyes of Star Sempai Noticed Me!* it's like having a golden retriever puppy. Ffs he has STANDARDS.)

(It'd be hilarious to watch the hostile 5th dimensional chess DC characters have going on in the background, all while? Danny is like? Man! Isn't this universe GREAT? Everyone here is so CHILL! And nice to me! I'm so relaxed now! Finally, I can finish my education in peace.)

@hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #tw wounds #but only as euphemism for emotional state

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occamstfs · 2 months

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Should've Worn Green

Happy St. Patrick's Day! Figured I couldn't miss the best Irish Tf day of the year eh? Best! -Occam

Charles didn’t account for the drunks storming the streets today when he was getting ready this morning. Why should he have to step out of his way to avoid getting beer spilled on him. Nevertheless perhaps the accountant should have checked the calendar before wandering into the streets without wearing a hint of green.

Such a blunder would not long go unpunished however. Compact as he is, he nimbly ducks out of the way of glasses clinking in brutish hands raised high. He scoffs at their total disregard for sanitation as they spill beer all over each other in the cheers. Barely avoiding getting drenched himself Charles bumps into a figure who drunkenly laughs before reaching out towards him.

“Aye! Shoulda worn green lad! ‘S St. Paddys!” He shouts as he pinches the already frustrated clerk who yelps and slaps at the hand. Not even pausing to dignify the man with a verbal response, he pushes forward to not be late for work.

He stumbles onward, reaching the edge of the crowd and finally takes a break. In the scarcely fresher air, his stomach lurches and he leans onto a building to avoid falling over. His shoulder itches as he almost feels what can only be described as vertigo? He looks over the crowd angrily, sure that they are to blame for whatever this episode is, contemplating going back toward whoever assaulted him but every face in the crowd is impossibly similar. Jesus, he’s never seen so many redheads in one place?

Wondering if he’s somehow woken up in Ireland proper he feels a breeze on his midriff. Not only has his shirt been untucked but the skin exposed suggests it never could have been tucked in the first place. It’s as if he’s grown half a foot. Charles starts hyperventilating, trying to convince himself his shirt must have shrunk in the wash, though surely he would have seen his exposed belly button when he put it on no?

He again looks towards the crowd seeking anything to blame for his state. This makes it evident that he has grown indeed, now able to directly make eye contact with men in the crowd. There is a draft on his ankles as his increasing height only becomes more difficult to deny. Charles clenches his jaw as his eyes find the man who simply must be the culprit.

In the middle of the mass of Paddy’s day parishioners, he sees a man staring directly at him, a smirk edging out from under his thick beard. He raises a large glass of Guinness in cheers and Charles can’t help but stare at the man in turn, his anger quickly being replaced by confusion. He winks, the glass still raised, as Charles stumbles backwards trying to avert his eyes. They forcibly return to this man each time taking in a new facet of his impossibly masculine body. The jungle of hair in his pits draws him in as if there’s a fire in his still-raised arm. His powerful chest is covered in a similar forest of beyond dense red hair.

Charles, unbeknownst to himself, continues to hungrily stare at the statuesque man as the pitch-black coif on his own head begins to bleach as a red tint starts to force its way up from his roots. He scratches at his face wondering how he forgot to shave before work. Oh, work? He needs to get to work right? His eyes retreat from the specimen to check his watch. He raises his arm to check his watch creating a tear in his suit as his bicep involuntarily flexes. His face reddens just as his hair continues to do, his anger towards the crowd returns as they have clearly forced him to not only be late to work, but to arrive wearing less than his prestigious work demands of him.

Before enacting whatever meager retribution his increasingly muddy mind decides he looks up to see the mysterious man approaching him through the crowd. His body involuntary clenches in fear, each instinctual flex creating new tears in his workday attire. His chest bursts into existence shooting his shirt’s buttons far into the dancing crowd. Tears appear down the length of his dress pants revealing tight briefs barely hanging together underneath. He rips off the rest of his suit jacket lest it impede him as he prepares to bolt from the rapidly approaching giant, though with each surge of growth coursing through Charles the man seems less menacing and massive, and more familiar.

He again scratches at his shoulder as he begins to notice that someone in the crowd desperately needs a shower. At least he thinks it's the crowd, he looks towards his own pits questioning his cleanliness and sees pits with thin dark hairs. But that can’t be right? Surely they should be red like all his other hair. He flexes his pecs and watches the ginger hair on his torso dance in the morning sun. Laughing before he returns his attention to his pits that are rapidly agreeing with his assessment and growing thick and red, they also make it clear that the sudden stink in the air could be no one but him.

It’s chill though Charles thinks, he’s been partying all morning with the guys, he’s sure they’ll get it. Smirking to himself not even noticing how swiftly he has assimilated to being one of the parishioners that have taken over the block. As he stands there, his red pubes increasingly showing above his crotch as his briefs are weighed down with each growing pulse in his crotch.

Finally the smirking Irishman who started it all makes his way over shouting, “Ay Charlie! Yer gunna have to cover up ya! Shame we’re not Scots or I’d toss ye a kilt, Ha! And ‘Ere lad don’t be standing around without a drink in hand.” He tosses a large cup at Charlie who catches it, though losing the head as it splashes all over him, matting his ginger curls to his chest and revealing the most intricate details of his still-growing bulge.

Charlie cheers at the man who must be a friend, or at least a countryman, before quickly starting to down the tankard. As he swallows the swill he swiftly loses whatever smidge of himself that remained in this northern paragon of a body. His chest fills out with a bit of weight as beer trickles down the beard expanding further down his face. As he swallows his voice develops into an impossible to mistake accent. It’s just, didn’t he have something to do today? His brown eyes sparkle as they brighten to a green bright enough to be in the tricolor as he laughs. What could he have to do today more important than celebrating his home country! America is fine and all that but fwoh, could certainly stand to be more like his homeland. Charlie, tired of thinking so much on a day like this, gives into a primal urge of celebration and joins the bacchanal. Charles Morris would not arrive to push whatever buttons and keys he was supposed to at work that day. But Charlie Mulligan was having the greatest time of his life, as he would continue to do evermore.

#male tf #mental change #cultural change #masculinization #racial change #muscle tf #jockification

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amaiaqt · 11 months

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤミㅤhear me outㅤ⋆ ｡˚ㅤ♡ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsituations where he felt humiliated while explaining himself ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤwanderer, cyno, kaeya, heizou !

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤwanderer !ㅤ

(may be considered a little suggestive ???? kuni likes your thighs!! basta yon putek)

in his defense, it's normal for a loving boyfriend to tweet about his partner on his private account, right ? he's just flexing you !

kunxzhi tweeted: "i want to bite [name]'s thighs archons send strength" kunxzhi tweeted: "archons im no soldier im going feral for them"

he stared at his tweet notifications that displayed on your screen as you held your phone up in front of his face, giving him the most 'this you ?' look humanity has ever seen

no, you weren't mad, you were flustered actually. but you're not used to him thinking about you like that, you thought you were the one thinking about him like that

"you wanna like... elaborate, babe ?" you spoke, setting your phone down on the counter as you leaned with one arm against it, the other resting on your hip in a sassy manner, staring him down. at this, kuni got even more nervous, tugging at the collar of his loose tanktop and mustering up a crooked smile

"i uhm..... hehe ?" why the hell did he 'hehe' ?!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤcyno !ㅤ

please, he did NOT mean to stare at you so much, his eyes following you like a predator, and you weren't even doing anything

you were just wearing one of his shirts with an apron tied around your waist, circling the kitchen while cooking. it wasn't anything like..... ok maybe because you were wearing his shirt and it was loose so you looked absolutely darling in it, but archons forbid the day he has to admit that

he didn't even realize he was staring until you were waving your hand in front of his face. "cyno ? darling ?" he snapped out of his trance as his lips parted, the words ready to spill out for his response, but he felt the way your hand rested on his chest softly

that hand on his chest, along with the way you looked up at him, he is about to have a meltdown

"cyno ? you've been staring at me for a while now.." "eh...." how does he even explain himself in this situation when there was absolutely no prominent reason he should be staring in the first place ?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤkaeya !ㅤ

you've scolded him about drinking on several different occasions by now, and yes, he respects your concerns and he has limited his visits to the local tavern ! but, he needs to let of some steam sometimes

tonight was one of those nights where you allowed him to go to the tavern, giving him a curfew of course

and he arrived on time to his curfew ! just... very messily...

there was a knock on the door, and to your relief, it was your boyfriend ! but, vomiting in the plant bed by the door when you opened up to him knocking. he looked up at you, wiping off his chin as he gave you a guilty, crooked smile. only for you to narrow your eyes and glare at him in return, expectant of an explanation, yet only receiving a nervous chuckle from the male still hunched over on the doorstep

may the anemo archon give you patience to deal with this charming but stubborn man

"you're sleeping on the sofa tonight." "aw love, how cruel !" "you smell." "well, true, but —"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ｡ﾟ ⊹ㅤshikanoin heizou ! ㅤ

you two had developed a morning routine that you were both used to. you would make him some food that he can take with him, whether he's leaving for work or personal training, and he would come home at the end of the day with some random trinket and a kiss

but today, he came home with a broken leg. actually, you had to pick him up at work because he couldn't even walk

his eyes glued to the wall or the floor when you stood in front of him, waiting for an explanation that he couldn't give. it wasn't that it was bad, it was just humiliating. but to his dismay, you asked his coworker instead

"did he sprain it while practicing his stunts ?" you questioned one of his office peers, receiving a sympathetic laugh in reply. "it's ironic actually, we thought so too." they replied, making you raise your eyebrow. "then if not from that, what happened ?" "he tripped while walking into the office."

color drained from his face and his dignity dropped to the floor, making a hole for him to crawl into — not actually, but he wished

as you stepped out of the office, carrying him on your back, you planted a kiss to his cheek as he hid his face in your shoulder

"no need to be embarrassed, idiot."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ© amaiaqt, 2023 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤdo not plagiarize !

#♡𝅼 ་ ׅ : babe wake up amai posted ！#꒰ㅤdelulu publishing houseㅤ꒱#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #amaiaqt #genshin fluff #heizou x reader #shikanoin heizou x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi #scaramouche #genshin wanderer #cyno x reader #cyno fluff #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya alberich #genshin impact

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 5 months

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Need me a Thomas Shelby with “you fell asleep in my arms. it was kind of adorable.” thank you and cg for 100 followers!!

Thank you so much for this request my love! I'm so sorry it's so long coming. Again, I'm studying for the bar and it is crazy with the holidays! Also, I hope you like this! Tommy is not my typical bread and butter but I wanted to give people the option! Sending all my love to you angel! - Mo

100 Follower Celebration: No Man Works Alone

Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader, fluff

When you got connected to the middle Shelby boy, you were warned that life would never be the same. You assumed as much, knowing that their business went much farther than horse racing. You were up to the task. You had been in the Shelby orbit for years, you saw what it all took, and when Tommy made his intentions known to you, you were willing to step up and do your part in expanding the empire.

Polly joked that you were made for this life with the way that you so seamlessly came in. While the Shelby company were encroaching into higher society and government facades, they needed a pretty face to butter up old money hands. When the boys were running liquor and snow and violence, you ran sweet words and high teas with women whose husbands had deep and ancient pockets. Even before Thomas met with potential partners, they were already inclined to agree since you were just so kind and elegant looking. Surely a woman like you would never be with someone not reputable right?

But it wasn’t just the business you managed to soothe and nurture. You also added a salve to the Shelby familial wounds. Some wounds required more care than others. Some would never heal completely, but petty arguments could be solved and begin the groundwork for a more harmonious union. You had stepped in more than once to facilitate peace agreements between the Shelby siblings more than once, “Do it for the children yeah? They deserve to be able to see their cousins and aunts and uncles freely. Shelby’s need each other. And it’s Christmas for God’s sake!”

And no good deed goes unpunished it seems. Due to your expert people skills and kind face, you were put in charge of a Christmas gala for all the biggest names in the city. A dual purpose to flaunt the power of the Shelby family, and to raise funds for a women’s shelter to be built. In the same week you were planning to host Christmas dinner and Christmas morning in the home for the entire Shelby family. Everyone was coming and it was to be a beautiful affair. It’s would be wonderful save for the sheer amount of people to take care of. You had spent the day running around, only to continue into the evening, taking care of your and Tommy’s children; putting them to bed and giving them each some attention in the absence of their father.

By the time you had finished your tasks for the day, it was late, and Tommy still wasn’t finished with the ledgers and accounts. He looked exhausted, the puffiness of his eyes evident in from under his glasses. Sleeves rolled up and shirt open the quiet desire for sleep was coming off him in waves. You wrap your soft satin robe tighter around you as you gently sit next to Tommy. Without looking up from his work he says to you in a gravely voice, "You should be in bed, it's late love."

You shake your head, though you feel as though invisible fingers are dragging your eyelids down, "Mm not tired."

Tommy chuckles as he hears you attempt to stifle a yawn. He takes off his glasses to look at your faltering face. "You're not eh? You sure?"

You lean back on the comfortably expensive sofa Tommy had set up shop on, stretching out the ache in your back, "Perhaps a little. But I don't like not sleeping next to you. If you're up, I'm up. We're a team yeah?"

Tommy smiles, enamored by your insistence. It was one of the things that drew him to you the first time he saw you. Your quiet defiance. You intent to keep people together and not leave anyone behind. It was only a small fractal of how sweet and tender your heart was. Tommy leaned over to gently kiss your temple, "Alright then. If you insist Commander. I'll be done soon enough I promise."

With another poorly hidden yawn you say, "Take your time darling. I brought reading."

Just as Tommy predicted, within 15 minutes you were out like a light. Back when you all were children, it was a running joke that you would be running and playing as hard as you could one minute, and fall dead asleep on any surface the next minute. It never changed. As Tommy chuckled and picked the book off your face where it fell, he was reminded of you as a young girl. Though there were a few more marks and lines on your face now, you had the whispers of your youth still on your face. Your daughter with Tommy slept the same exact way. Mouth open slightly. Arms raised above your head. Utterly at peace. Tommy was tempted to wake you to tease you, but knew you would punish yourself for 'falling asleep on the job'. He opted to finish his paperwork instead, working diligently and quietly so as not to disturb you. Soon enough he was done and put everything away in his desk to pick up tomorrow. Pressing gentle kisses to your face, he whispers against you, "Darling, wake up. Let's go to bed eh? Get you more comfortable."

You jolted awake, nearly knocking Tommy over, "Oh God... what time is it? Are the kids ok?"

Tommy chuckled deeply, pulling you up by the arms, "No no darling. Kids are alright. You fell asleep next to me. It was a bit adorable really. You look exactly like Matilde in her crib. "

You throw yourself back down, "Oh God I fell asleep while you were working! That is not what I wanted to do! I wanted to keep you company!"

Tommy laid himself over you, pushing your arms away from your embarrassed face, "You did keep me company. Perfect company. You needed to sleep. You've been running around. Being the best mother and wife. Being the best coordinator. Being the best aunt and sister in law. Hard work my love. C'mon. Let's get to bed yeah?"

You let him kiss you and take you to bed. Sleep took you both sweetly and quickly. And in the morning you would start it all over again. Waking to your children jumping on top of you with joy, and another list of things to attend to. But as long as Tommy was next to you. It would all be worth it.

#peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x you #100 follower celebration

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incorrectbatfam · 6 months

Note

I wish Retail Stephanie very good luck this Black Friday

Thanks, she's gonna need it for:

Retail Steph: Part 8

[clothing store, 12 AM]

Steph: *opens the doors*

Steph: *immediately gets trampled*

Steph, face down on the floor: Don't forget to check out our winter selection.

———————

[call center, 2 AM]

Steph: Wayne Enterprises account support, this is Stephanie speaking.

Steph: Mhm.

Steph: I see where you're coming from. But, like the name suggests, Cyber Monday is not until Monday.

———————

[coffee shop, 7 AM]

Steph: Here's your drink, have a nice day.

Steph: *ducks behind the counter*

Steph: And here is mine.

———————

[furniture store, 10 AM]

Steph: For the last time, I can't tell you if this washing machine will fit if you don't know how wide your laundry door is.

———————

[drive-thru, 12 PM]

Steph: Sorry, this Batburger location is not participating in the Thanksgiving Robin nuggets deal, but I can still take $5 off your meal.

Steph: What do you mean that's not good enough? The original deal was only $3.

———————

[grocery store, 3 PM]

Steph: Stocking up on Christmas cookies, eh?

*silence*

Steph: Not a talker. Okay.

Steph: *silently scans for the next ten minutes*

———————

[restaurant, 7 PM]

Steph: Careful, these plates are hot.

Steph: And I mean REALLY hot.

Steph: Someone put me out of my misery.

———————

[at home, 11 PM]

Duke: Hey Barbara, why am I on night patrol?

Barbara: Steph's excused.

Duke: How come?

Steph, rocking in the corner: I'm not crazy. You're crazy. Every single customer in this world has gone insane. I'm the only normal one left. Ha!

Cass: Shh, they can't hurt you.

Tim: I'll get some more hot chocolate.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 16 days

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the girl next door 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You can’t remember the last time you had the house to yourself. Even if your mother’s just next door, it feels a little lighter around there. And you’re happy for her. Maybe having Steve around will be good. He can be an outlet so she doesn’t have to put all her frustrations on you.

She was happy when she left, even excited. That’s another rarity in your life.

You start your day off with a tea. The apple cinnamon bags are a bit old so you use two. You bring the cup into your room and get your table set up with your pencils and sketchbook. You open the window to let in the sunlight, the natural light much brighter than the yellowed bulb above.

You know your mom would tell you to do something more useful than just scribble in your sketchbook. You got the dishes done last night. Steve offered to help but you deflected as you foresaw your mom’s disapproval. You can’t let company pick up your slack.

You try to wipe away the anxiety of last night. It’s over now. You shouldn’t have worry very much about it again.

You finish your tea. It’s cold by the time you get to the dregs. You sit back to look over your sketch. Your eyes feel a bit fuzzy from hyperfocusing on that one stamen. You rub your brow and yawn. The sun shifts and you look over at the old alarm clock on your nightstand. It’s close to noon.

Something else catches your eye. You look up at the window across from yours. The curtain ripples around the gap before it’s pulled open from inside. Steve stands on the other side of the pane. Can he see you?

You can’t tell as he turns away without acknowledgement. The glare of the sun should hide your room well enough. You never really thought of it as your blinds are closed more often than not.

You get up to rinse out your cup. You stretch your legs as you pace in the kitchen. You’re restless. You’re so used to your mom and her demands and expectations, that having your own time feels aimless.

You could surprise your mother with dinner. Have it in the oven when she comes home. It’s still early but you can make something more than boxed macaroni. It will be a good cushion to fall back on when you remind her about tomorrow’s appointment.

🏠

When your mother returns, you can see the fatigue around her eyes. For as little as she goes out, you’re not surprised. What strikes you, is how happy she is. You help her to her recliner and she sighs as she leans back.

“Such a nice man,” she keeps repeating.

You smile and let her regale you with a recounting of her day. Still, you can’t help but wait for the pendulum to swing back to normal. She leans her head in her hand, her eyes distant.

“I swear, the universe sent him to me,” she says, “it had to. It was how much I need someone.” She drops her hand and traces her finger around the armrest, “sick, got a lazy daughter, stuck in this damn house...”

There it is. You frown. You mash your hands together and waver.

“I made dinner,” you offer.

“I don’t want KD,” she snips.

“I made... I made shepherd’s pie,” you offer meekly, “should be almost done.”

“Hm, wondered what that stench was.”

You frown. “I can put it in the fridge for tomorrow. Be good to have something we can just heat up after the doctor’s.”

“Doctor?” She grumbles, “eh... I forgot.”

She slumps and her eyes dull. You can’t help the pang in your chest. Sometimes you wish it was you who was sick. It feels like you deserve it more than her.

“Hopefully it’s good. If you can get the surgery--”

“Surgery!? Surgery. You keep going on about the damn thing,” she barks. “They can’t fix me, girl, get that through your head.”

“I know, mom, but they can help--”

“Like you help me? Crittering around here like a rat!” She hits the armrest violently, “would ya leave me be?” She closes her eyes and turns her face away, deflating once more, “ruined a good day...”

You sniffle and slowly turn on your heel. You should have known better. You should have just left her alone. As much as she rants about you staying in your room, she prefers you there. Out of sight, out of mind.

🏠

The next day, your mother doesn’t say much. Her silence is just a bitter as her words. You don’t push it. She gets in the car without argument and you set off into town. Even if she says it’s a waste of time, she listens intently to the doctor and answers all his questions. It’s only when she has to go through the tests that she shows her agitation.

After some hours spent at the specialist clinic, you’re free to go. Your mom is just as quiet. You feel her mood roiling in the air. Her hand is shaking to the point that she’s hissing at it.

You steer down to the corner and linger at the stop sign.

“Mom,” you squeak, “you want some orange julius? A treat for the way home?”

“Don’t talk to me like a damn child,” she snarls. “Let’s just go. I’m tired. Got no blood left in me.”

You nod and bite your tongue. Maybe you can just put her to bed. Her naps are a respite, though you find yourself anxious in the silence, terrified of waking her prematurely.

As you pull onto the suburban avenue, you slow and approach your drive. You pull in and shut off the engine. You get out and go around to help your mom. You open her door and she hauls herself out, tisking under her breath.

“Didn’t see him,” she mutters.

“Good afternoon,” Steve’s voice answers your question before you can ask. You look over the hood as he waves from his porch, “busy day?”

Your mother steels herself and forces a smile, “just went to the doctors.”

“Oh, everything okay?” He asks.

“Sure,” she chimes, “just some tests. Nothing serious.”

“Good to hear,” he stands behind the porch railing, arches crossed, “day’s not over yet. Still lots of time to enjoy the sun.”

“Mhmm,” you mom grabs onto your wrist, shaking you as leans into you. “Nice day out.”

“I was gonna do up a milkshake, if you ladies wanted to join me I got plenty to go around.”

“Milkshakes?” Your mother considers, “mm, I’d have to change out of these.” She looks down, “smell like a hospital.”

“Sure, take your time,” Steve says, “how about you, honey? I got strawberry. You seem like a strawberry type.”

“Eh, she’s more a vanilla type,” your other cackles. “Plain.”

“Got that too,” Steve ignores the joke. “I understand if you’re tired out though. Don’t wanna be too desperate over here, just wouldn’t mind the company.”

“I’ll be over soon,” your mom assures him, “she’s got some laundry to do.”

She keeps hold of you and points you towards the house. You help her inside, even though she does her best to hid how she clings to you. Her steps are uneven and stunted. You get through the front door and help her sit on the chair you keep by the door, just in case.

“Goddamnit,” she’s shaking pretty bad. “Help me, you dumb girl.”

“I... I don’t...”

“Get my goddamn inhaler. I forgot it this morning.”

“Oh, uh, okay.”

You hurry down the hall and to bathroom. It isn’t in the cabinet. You go back out and scan the table. Not their either. You find it next to her recliner. You wish she’d keep it one place. You go back to her and hand it over.

“I’m gonna go over,” she says before she huffs from the canister, “you’re gonna stay here. Out of my way.”

“Alright,” you agree. You prefer that anyway.

She takes a minute before she gets up. She shooes you away and you retreat to your bedroom. You sit on your bed and wring your hands, waiting as you listen to her. She doesn’t say goodbye before she leaves. Only the front door slamming lets you know she’s gone.

You exhale and pull the fold out table up to the edge of the bed. You open your sketchbook and stare at the pencil. You don’t feel like drawing but you have nothing else to do. You just sit, looking at the amaryllis. You can pick out every flaw in your work. You close the cover and frown.

A knock startles you and you stand up. Oh gosh, it’s probably Marge. What is it now? Is the siding too stained? Are the steps crooked? You get up and shuffles down the hall. You open the front door, hiding behind it as you poke your head around.

Steve has the screen door propped open against his elbow. He holds a tall glass filled with pink, “here. Figured I’d bring this over.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you accept the condensating glass, a wide straw poking out of the whipped cream topped drink.

“Maybe next time you can pop over too,” he suggests, “I’ve been working on getting the pool going...” he grins, “it’ll be a good summer for it.”

You nod and look down at the milkshake.

“Really nice of you,” you say.

“It’s nothing, sweetie,” he puts his hand on the door above him, looking down at you, “enjoy.”

“Uh,” you look at him then at the straw. You don’t want to be rude. You put your lips around the tip and take a sip. “Mm, yup, good. Thank you.”

His blue eyes stick to you and he drags his hand down the door, “I’ll make a deal. You come over to see the pool when it’s ready, and I’ll make you another. How about that, sweetie?”

You push your lips out. It’s not nice to say no. He didn’t have to bring you the milkshake or invite you. You shrug.

“Okay,” you agree, “erm, thanks again.”

He nods and taps the door frame before he steps back. He gently closes the screen door and you watch him through. He turns and strides down the stairs. You shiver as the cold glass numbs your fingers. Hopefully, he forgets about the pool thing. You don't even have a suit.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #au #silverfox au #the girl next door #mcu #marvel #captain america

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pumpk1n-writes · 1 year

Text

Tell Me All About The Dark Places You Hide

➥ in which the reader figures out that their best friends are the infamous Woodsboro Killers and decides to help them rather than turn them in. {ft. stalking, in-depth descriptions of how the reader would murder someone, Billy uses “princess”, reader is a bit insane}

Part Two | Word Count ~ 720 (sorry, this one’s pretty short. The next few parts will be longer — this is more of an intro than an actual part and I was rushing to finish it)

The media you consume is your own responsibility and I will not be held accountable for your choices. I’m not going to block minors from this account, but proceed with caution anyway.

Taglist ~ @wasawattpadkid

It was a normal Friday night for you, some old black and white horror movie on, parents gone, and homework lying forgotten about on the kitchen counter.

The phone behind you rang and you groaned, leaving it for a few moments before getting up to answer. “Who’s this?”

Somebody on the other end — clearly using a voice changer — began speaking. “Do you like scary movies?”

“Eh. I enjoy them but the suspension of disbelief needed for most of them is too much.”

“Oh? What do you mean by that?”

“Well, for one, the way that the killers in a lot of them actually do it is disappointing. They hardly toy with their victims and just straight up kill them. There’s hardly any fear, it’s just a single moment of blood and gore before it’s over.”

Billy grinned underneath his Ghostface mask. “You’re an interesting girl, what’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know that right now. What’s your favorite color?”

Without thinking Billy answered. “Red.”

“Like blood?”

“Sure, princess. Like blood.”

“Princess?”

Billy smirked again. “Well if you’re not going to tell me your name I have to find something to call you. You got a boyfriend?”

“Oh god no. They’re all toxic little shits that don’t know how to act. Besides, it’s too messy to clean up their blood.”

A beat of silence then; “For legal reasons, that was a joke.”

And all of a sudden, you were a much more fascinating person than Billy had ever imagined you would be to him. He wanted to know everything about you, all your strange little habits and personality traits that made you the way you are, your daily schedule, what your blood looked like spilled over his blade and hands.

“Hello?”

“Don’t worry, princess, I’m still here. And I have more questions for you.”

“Well I’m getting kind of sleepy so hurry it up.”

Billy smiled to himself, using his binoculars to glance around your room. You sat up on your bed, playing with something he couldn’t see. You also — he noticed, blood pooling southward — were only wearing an oversized t-shirt.

“What would you do differently as the killer in those movies?” That wasn’t the question you’d expected. Maybe your favorite band or your least favorite food. Maybe your name again. But not how you would commit murder.

You thought for a moment, humming under your breath. “For one thing, I wouldn’t make it so obvious it was me. In a lot of those movies the audience is guessing who it is in the first five minutes. That wouldn’t be me. I’m pretty outgoing and bubbly around my friends anyway, so I wouldn’t really be a suspect. Plus, my friends say I’m wicked smart but no one can tell when they first meet me.”

Billy nodded to himself. That much was true. He would never have expected you, one of his classmates who sits next to him in English, to go so in depth on how not to get caught murdering people.

You kept going. “So I would play that up. Cry at any mention of my dead classmates, but not too much or it’ll get suspicious. I’d keep up the facade of ‘perfect student’ and act disgusted when anyone brings up how I killed them. That alone would help.”

Billy laughed. “You sound like you’ve thought about this a lot.” But secretly he was taking notes.

“Sorry, I get really bored sometimes, and this is just what my mind strays to.”

Really? This is what your sick, twisted mind thought up in your free time? He wondered how many times he’d glanced over at you in English and you were plotting his death, spaced out with a happy smile on your face.

“Keep going, princess.”

“Well that’s just how I wouldn’t get caught. The actual murders themselves I would make as grisly and gory as I could think of so people would think a sweet, innocent, ‘perfect’ girl could never commit them. I would maybe draw satanic symbols on the wall in their blood or something to throw off police. I would only kill crackheads or past criminals so that the police wouldn’t really care very much to solve it. And I would only kill weeks apart so that they don’t feel immediately threatened.”

“Jesus Christ,” Billy was mostly thinking to himself, but still. He was impressed.

He also thought he might be falling in love with you a little bit.

#poly!ghostface #poly!ghostface smut #angst #billy loomis #fluff #scream #scream 1996 #smut #series #fic #scream 1996 smut #billy loomis scream #stu matcher x reader #stu macher

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cutecatlov3r · 7 months

Text

kinktober: chastity~ shoyo hinata

synopsis: corrupting your pure friend . you gotta teach him the basics of course, he doesn’t know much, what better way to show him where to start by teaching him how to masturbate first ?

warnings/tw: aged up! corruption, masturbation, cum play, handjob, and porn with a plot(?) BONUS [twt links !]

the character ai bot that I made in honor of this: here

not proofread // posted early bc ily !

“e-eh?! woah uh wait! i uh! no don’t-!” he protested, watching how your hand was trailing his thigh. you were rubbing little circles on his thighs under the cover. you and him were friends, you have been for awhile. of course you knew that he was a major ‘no sex’ sort of person. he invited you for a movie and now here you were trying to make a move on him. why wouldn’t you? he’s fucking hot.

“you know I don’t do those things! im waiting until marriage,” he continued, shaky breaths. he could feel himself crumbling underneath your touch. his face was flushed a dark red color.

“oh cmon! don’t be such a prude… look at how cute your cock is. sprung up so quick… as soon as I put my hand here,” you gave him and innocent smile.

he gulped slightly, shaking his head slowly, sinking into the couch you both were on. he was anxious, breathing quickly. he shut his eyes, balling his palm into a fist to feel his purity ring.

“no… I’m waiting until marriage,” he blushed.

you bit your lip slightly, seeing him so flustered made you so goddamn turned on. you wanted those same fingers inside of you, oh how erotic it would be for him to finger fuck you with his cute little purity ring on.

“shoyo please,” you hummed, hand trailing a bit more up. his cock twitched slightly, he winced at the sensitivity. “I’ll make you feel so good~” you teased, palming his pulsing dick.

he looked at you with pleading eyes. his mind said it was a bad idea… but his dick just needs her. he’s never been the type to give into any temptation, he wouldn’t even watch porn. but now that you’re in front of him, boobs squished against his arm, hand on his thigh, it made him rethink.

“let me show you how it feels to feel so good…” you whisper in his ear. he let out another shaky breath, looking over at you. your eyes were so seductive, he was drawn to them.

“no…”

“please shoyooo~” your voice sang slightly, fingers teasing the waist band of his shorts

…

“show me…” he mumbled, looking away from her. it was way too embarrassing. he couldn’t even believe those words escaped his mouth. why did he feel so horny? why did he want to stick his dick inside of you. he wondered what it looked like, what it’d feel like… your gummy walls clinging onto his hard cock… the wetness… softness.

you smirk to yourself, grabbing his chin to face you. you wanted to see his cute little flushed face.

“how should I show you what to do? maybe you need to see what we’re gonna do soon huh? you ever watch porn?”

he blushed at your straightforward question, shaking his head ‘no’. you chuckle at his innocence. of course he hasn’t. you bet he probably hasn’t ever came from touching himself… he’s probably never even touched himself.

“ever… hmmmm touch yourself?” you asked in your cheerful voice.

once again he shook his head ‘no’. you looked at him, amused. so cute, so ready for you to corrupt his mind.

“such a bad idea…” he mumbled to himself. he couldn’t believe he agreed.

you pulled out your phone, going on Twitter, you scrolled through dozens of porn accounts searching for just the right video to show him. it would be his first time watching it so…

you click on this video.

you make him hold the phone, hand stroking his clothed, painfully hard cock. he watched, blushing, eyes staring on to the phone. the way the girl got fucked from behind… sucking on the guy’s dick afterward made his cock leak some precum. the girl was so eager for the man’s cum… maybe he wants that… but yet he still doesn’t know how.

as he watched, your hand rubbed his clothed cock up and down. you teased his leaking tip by putting just a finger on it. he whimpered slightly, still paying attention to the video.

“shoyo… let me see it” you giggle.

he looked at you with a small blush. why did you have to ask it like that? so embarrassing for him.

“okay…” he set the phone down, pulling down his shorts slowly. his hard dick hit his abdomen straight away, causing him to hiss at how sensitive he was.

his cock was pretty average, thick, a vein running on the left side, and slightly curved. not shaven, he never cared for those types of things because he didn’t think he’d ever be doing this sort of thing before marriage. his cock was almost tempting you with its pink flush on the tip to just hop on it and ride. he was embarrassed, looking at himself. the precum spilling out made him ashamed that he’s gotten this far with you.

you chuckled at his facial expression, grabbing your phone. you chose another video for him to watch.

ultimately you decided on this one.

you placed your phone back in one of his hands, guiding the other. his eyes were glued on to the phone, like an addict. the way he wasn’t giving the girl the time of day to catch her breath… he moved so fast, he bet that the guy’s cock was feeling so amazing.

you guided his hand to wrap around his own cock, pumping it. you couldn’t feel the soft flesh, giving him the opportunity to feel himself.

his breath was hitching, eyes off the phone. he felt weak. he didn’t mean to but his shaky hand dropped your phone on to the couch. the woman’s moans echoing off in the room.

he watched as you helped him rub himself. the way his thumb hit his tip here and there made him see stars. his back arched slightly when you started to move his hand faster.

you put a wad of spit on his twitching cock, making him moan. the spit spread over his dick and hand as he pumped, making him feel extra euphoria. he shut his eyes to chase his high.

he felt like he was gonna shoot something out soon. maybe it was that liquid that he sometimes saw when he woke up. he never understood why it happened but he never paid mind. he dug his nails into the couch, moaning and groaning.

“y/n… st-stop it’s too mu-“

“i stopped controlling your hand awhile ago,” you chuckle.

he looked down and saw that his own hand was pumping himself, shame throughout his body. but he didn’t want to pull away. he wanted to chase this high that was coming. he felt too alive, his hand was moving on its own, as if he had no control over it

you giggle to yourself, amused as you watched him masturbate. he was such a whiny and whimpering mess.

“god…! i can’t- im!” he whined, rubbing faster. as soon as he rubbed his dick faster, white splurges of his cum landed on to his stomach and a bit on the couch. he panted, looking at the white sticky substance.

you smile, grabbing his hand that had his cum. you licked it all clean, teasing his fingers as you shoved them down your throat.

his cock twitched at this action. the sensation of your saliva and tongue on his finger pads made him feel tingly.

your eyes were like a hungry lust demon… he was so fucked.

“we aren’t done yet shoyo,”

#hq x reader #hq imagines #hq smut #haikyu smut #haikyuu #haikyuu shoyo #shoyo hinata x reader #hinata shoyo smut #hinata shoyo #shoyo hinata smut #shoyo smut #shoyo hinata #hq hinata #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #hinata shouyou #hq shoyo #hinata smut

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madaqueue · 1 month

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Dripping in Gold | Chapter 1

synopsis: finding a job was never easy, and why even bother trying after you meet satoru gojo, a man with mysterious and exorbitant wealth, who wants nothing more than to spoil you with it? the only caveat to your little arrangement is that it can never, ever, become personal.

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au, sugar daddy gojo. language, angst, light smut. alcohol mention, masturbation (f). 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.6k

a/n: IT'S HERE AHHHH hope y'all like this one :)

series masterlist | next chapter

God, I need to get a job.

The afternoon sun filters in through the blinds as you scroll through your phone, trying to distract yourself from the reality of your future. You graduated college months ago and still have no idea what you want to do or how to do it. Application after application, shitty interview after shitty interview, and you’re still no further into the career that’s supposed to be the rest of your life.

Sighing, you prop yourself up on your elbows in bed to take in the space around you - clothes were strewn across the floor of your studio apartment, dirty dishes piled in the sink, empty takeout containers from restaurants you certainly couldn’t afford to be eating at. It was all just too much.

Eh, I’ll get around to it, you think, laying back into the pillows and returning to your phone. You navigate to check your bank account, just to see the damage that months of unemployment have done.

“Balance: $68.06”

Shit. That’s not even enough to make rent this month, and even if you did have a job lined up you’ve already asked your landlord for one extension on your payments and he did not seem very open to the prospect of doing it again.

Trying to shut out the thought of possibly losing your apartment, you move over to Instagram to quiet the dread building inside of you. Scrolling through posts of your friends on yachts, traveling the country, eating expensive dinners with expensive-looking people, you only feel like more of a failure.

How are they able to do it? I mean, sure, they at least have jobs, but none of them pay well enough to do this, right?

You hover over one of your friend’s pictures, trying to recognize the incredibly well-dressed, albeit much older, man she’s seated across from. As you zoom in, it suddenly clicks - her new jewelry, the expensive bottle of champagne, fresh nails, styled hair - and you remember your conversation with her the last time you saw each other.

You were both out at a bar and she kept buying rounds of shots for you and all your friends.

“Dude, not to be a total dick, but how are you able to afford all this?” you shout over the music blasting through the speakers.

“Oh m’god, you aren’t gonna believe it” she slurs slightly, “there’s this app where rich guys pay you to just go on dates with ‘em, I jus’ gotta keep lookin’ pretty and they pay me so much.”

“Don’t you have to, like, fuck them though?” you ask, curiously raising an eyebrow.

“Only if y’wanna! You’re not really supposed to, but they pay you a lot more!” she grins.

At the time you pushed the conversation to the back of your mind and promptly forgot about it after a few more drinks, but now the realization crashes over you.

No, there’s no way. You try to shake the idea out of your mind - were you seriously considering getting a sugar daddy before getting a job?

She did make it sound pretty easy though…and I mean, it’s just dates, right?

You hesitantly pull out your laptop to search for the website she had mentioned. There’s no harm in just checking it out, you try to rationalize. Before you know it, you’ve set up a profile and have picked out a few pictures of yourself that make you look particularly hot - you out at a bar, you on the beach, you with your friends.

After you finalize your profile, the screen suddenly fills with pictures of, frankly, less-than-attractive older men. You roll your eyes and scoff at your own stupidity for even considering this idea, starting to shut your laptop before something catches your eye in the corner of the screen.

Bright white hair and piercing blue eyes look back at you through the computer. Holy shit, he’s hot, you think as you move your mouse to click on his profile.

Bio: “My name’s Gojo, but you can call me yours 🥰 23, casual only”

Okay, so he’s hot, rich, and practically the same age as you? You feel like you’ve struck gold. Besides, he only wants something casual, which is all you’re interested in anyways since you still need to focus on finding a job eventually, but this could at least help you financially bridge the gap between then and now.

Swiping up, you decide to just send him a message and hope for the best; after all, the worst he can say is no.

You: Gojo, I need you to be fr with me - does that pickup line in your bio ever actually work?

Sighing, you move to close your computer as you wait for him to respond, but a message pops up almost instantly.

Gojo: Why don’t you find out tonight over dinner - 7:30 work for you?

A smile starts to form on your lips - this was almost too easy. The two of you briefly confirm the details of your first date before you finally shut your laptop and start getting ready.

–

Standing outside of the restaurant, you’re suddenly hit with a wave of nervousness as the reality of what you’re about to do sets in.

There’s no way this is a good idea - maybe I should just go home. No, no, I’ve made it this far, and I really do need the money.

You inhale a shaky breath as you try to steady yourself before reaching for the door and walking inside. The restaurant is beautiful, the scent of fresh bread and herbs hitting your nose as soon as your feet step onto the dark wood of the floor. The deep red walls make the space feel cozy, intimately lit with candles and a chandelier hanging overhead. You glance down at the burgundy dress and black heels you decided on since they were the nicest clothes you owned, yet you still feel slightly underdressed.

Glancing around the restaurant, the white-haired man is nowhere to be found. “Hi, um, I’m here to meet someone,” you hesitantly explain to the person at the host stand.

“Ah yes, you must be with Mr. Gojo. Right this way,” he gestures for you to follow him. He leads you through the restaurant to the far back corner, unveiling a small room that was initially hidden behind a curtain.

As you adjust to the dim lighting, you glance around the new space in front of you: a single table with roses placed in the middle, and on one side sits perhaps the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He smiles at you as those bright blue eyes meet yours before they slowly move down and up your body, taking you all in.

“Well, aren’t you a treat,” he grins before getting up to pull out the empty chair for you.

When he stands up you allow your gaze to cover him as your eyes shift up to his white locks then down across his black suit, adorned with a dark red tie that somehow perfectly matches your dress.

“You aren’t half-bad yourself,” you respond as you move across the small space to sit down.

“Careful now, don’t flatter me too much or it’ll go to my head,” he smirks as he returns to his seat across from you. He places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in his palm, staring at you.

Trying to break the silence, you murmur, “This place is nice.”

“Mhm,” he hums, eyes never leaving your face.

“So, um, what do you do?” you continue, desperately trying to loosen the pressure you feel from his gaze.

“Do you care?” he taunts, tilting his head to the side with that same smirk on his face.

“W-well, I-” you stammer.

“It’s okay sweetheart, I’m not offended. You’re here because I’m paying you, and I’m here because I wanted to sit across from a beautiful woman. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that,” he smiles.

The combination of the pet name and him calling you beautiful suddenly makes your cheeks flush and you look down at the table, trying to hide your reddening face.

Suddenly you feel a hand on your chin as Gojo gently tilts your head back up. “Eyes up here, princess,” he purrs. “After all, what’s the point of this little date if I can’t even look at you?”

Something about his touch, his voice, his words has your heart fluttering in your chest. You’ve never been nervous like this over a guy before, and you’ve barely just met him.

You swallow, trying to keep your eyes on his but it almost feels like he’s seeing into you, somehow able to view the depths of your soul. You feel naked in front of him, like he’s looking at your very essence.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally breaks the eye contact with a chuckle. “Sorry, I know I can come off a little intense sometimes. You’re just so gorgeous it feels like I would be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t try to take it all in.”

A sigh escapes your lips as you finally tear your gaze away from him, softly laughing at the compliment.

The rest of the date goes smoothly - he orders the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu and tells you to get whatever you want, since it’s obviously his treat. The conversation flows easily between the two of you, and you find yourself genuinely enjoying your time with him. When it comes time to leave, he thanks you for spending the night with him and gives you his phone number in case you ever want to go out again. As you part ways to walk towards your car, you get a notification from your bank.

Holy. Shit.

Your eyes widen at the screen. Gojo sent you $2,000.

You almost feel dizzy, not having had this much money at once in nearly months. Now you can pay rent and buy groceries and do all the other stuff you were too broke to do. Sitting in your car, you let out a squeal of excitement.

Unfortunately, your joy gets cut short as you go to turn your car on, the key turning repeatedly in the ignition as it stalls out.

Of course, you think, the one time I don’t put gas in this goddamn thing. To your credit, you really couldn’t afford it, and it had lasted longer on empty before. You had also neglected the oil change, and the tire rotation, and the other maintenance the mechanic kept emailing you was overdue, but how were you supposed to pay for all that anyways? Not knowing what to do, you pull out your phone to call someone to help you. As you unlock it, you’re met with Gojo’s contact information he just put in.

I mean, he would definitely help me. And I know he can afford gas. Sighing, you call him.

He answers almost immediately. “Miss me already?”

You want to roll your eyes at his cockiness, but you really do need his help. “My piece of shit car won’t turn on, and I figured you’re probably still close to the restaurant, could you help?”

“Anything for you, sweetheart. I’ll be there in a minute.” Even after just one date, it’s like you can practically hear his smile through the phone.

As promised, he arrives a few minutes later. He drives up in a sleek, black Porsche that has windows so tinted you wouldn’t be able to see inside if he hadn’t rolled his window down. Of course he drives a nice car, you think to yourself.

“Your savior has arrived,” he smirks, leaning his head out the window at you where you stand against your car. Opening the passenger side door reveals the interior of the vehicle, which is just as nice as the outside, with black leather seats and an all-black console. “You know, this is usually the part where you say thank you.” He turns to face you as the scent of his cologne hits you, something woody and crisp.

“Thanks,” you mutter as you settle into the comfortable seat. “You can just take me home.”

“On it,” he responds with a salute.

The drive is quiet as you spiral into your thoughts. How am I supposed to get a job now if I can’t even drive to an interview? How am I even supposed to get groceries? Can I just leave my car at the restaurant? Where else would I even take it? How am I supposed to afford this? Fuck.

Gojo clears his throat next to you, pulling you out of your mind. “You alright over there, sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah, sorry,” you stutter, “just stressed.”

He glances over at you out of the corner of his eyes. “Well, what if I could help you be a little less stressed?”

“Oh yeah, and how would you do that exactly?” Looking down, you suddenly notice his hand on your thigh, his thumb moving in slow circles along your skin. The gentle sensation makes you feel flustered as heat begins to pool between your legs.

Am I seriously about to fuck this guy I just met?

Before you can say anything else, Gojo continues. “How about you use my car while I get yours sorted out for you, hm?” A look of surprise flashes across your face at his kindness and lack of sexual proposition. “What, not the offer you were expecting?” he smirks.

“Gojo, I-” you start.

“Look, princess, I want to do this. Let me help you, please?” he pleads.

“Fine,” you relent, “but I owe you one, seriously.”

“Don’t worry about it. But, if you really insist, I’m sure we can figure out a way for you to repay me at some point.” You tilt your head to look at him as his eyes meet yours, a glint of mischief in his blue irises.

After a few more minutes of him flirting with you, his hand never leaving your thigh, Gojo finally pulls up to your apartment building. Stepping out of the car, he hands you the keys and reminds you not to worry, that he’ll take care of everything. You thank him again as you walk inside - he insists you don’t wait outside while he waits for his ride home - and he sends you off with a wave.

Walking into your apartment, your thoughts swirl in your mind as you replay the events that just transpired. How did you manage to find this rich, handsome, courteous man? More importantly, what’s the catch? If he’s truly as good as he seems, why was he on that website in the first place?

Sighing, you flop onto your bed and peel off your dress, tossing it into the accumulating pile of clothes on the floor. Your skin feels warm where he touched you, a part of you wishing he had inched higher. Before you realize you’re doing it, your hands traverse down your body between your legs, gently pulling your panties to the side.

As you rub over your clit, you picture how his soft fingertips would feel against you, how good those long fingers would feel inside you, beckoning you towards your release. Your other hand traces up your chest, gently cupping your breast as you toy with your firm nipple. His name escapes your mouth as you feel yourself getting closer, eyes shut as you picture him. “Gojo,” you can’t stop yourself from moaning into the empty room as your orgasm hits you, legs shaking, the thought of him the only thing on your mind.

Your breathing slows as you come down from your high, heart still pounding in your chest.

Well, that settles it, you think as you sit up. I guess I am going to fuck him.

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show-your-fangs · 10 months

Text

Swimming Pool ✿ Aaron Hotchner

We Shouldn't (And Yet We Do) - Part One

Pairing: DBF!Hotch x f!Reader

Words: 12.6k

CW: 18+, NSFW, mdni, smut, a little angst and so much fluff.

Summary: You return home for the summer because of your parents’ drama but luckily for you, your father’s friend, Mr. Hotchner, is there to bring you some much needed comfort.

Tags/warnings: shitty family life, age gap relationship (reader is 20, Hotch is 40), teasing, groping, perv!hotch, inappropriate thoughts and behavior, grinding, daddy kink bc fuck you, fingering (f receiving), protected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it or at least make sure you talk it over with your partner and get tested!).

a/n: Thank you so much to @canuck-eh for writing Loose Morals and reigniting my passion to write this series, and to @xladyxdreamer for putting up with my Moments angst to the point where this series is now my penance for it. Finally, to whoever started the DBF!Hotch train, you are a god and I love you.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

Coming back home in the middle of summer was…a lot. You’d just finished your second year away at college and you weren’t supposed to come back home until Christmas six months later, a compromise you’d agreed to only for your mother. But then she’d called out of the blue, sobbing, hysterical, and you had booked a flight back home to Virginia before she’d even hung up.

When you did finally arrive the morning after, she was much calmer, but the edge in her voice remained and you knew something was wrong. The only problem was that she refused to tell you what it was. It wasn’t until your high school friend took you out to lunch later that she finally clued you in as to what was going on.

Your father had apparently been caught getting busy with another one of the professors at the college he taught at. Someone had taken a…suggestive picture and now everything was in shambles. Well, not everything, mostly just his own marriage. From the little bits of information you were able to string together from your mother, it was clear that he was gaslighting her into believing that the picture was taken out of context and he wasn’t actually having an affair.

It had all blown up in your face about twenty minutes ago. Your house was packed with people, mostly your father’s close friends, colleagues, and their wives. He had decided to host an end of term/start of summer cocktail party to quell whatever doubts lingered amongst his social circles that whatever had or had not been taken didn’t mean anything and his marriage was still going strong. What he hadn’t accounted for, however, was you coming back to make sure your mother was alright.

You’d been holding onto the anger all afternoon as you followed your mother around, yelling and complaining and just desperately trying to reason with her. You’d never been a huge fan of your father. Sure, he’d done the bare minimum to give you life and was now paying for the part of your tuition that wasn’t covered by all the scholarships you’d gotten so that you didn’t have to graduate with massive loans. But aside from the small kindnesses he awarded you every so often, your relationship was nonexistent.

It was almost as if he’d predicted your mood because he didn’t arrive at the house until the party was minutes from starting. You had thought about leaving, about going out and getting wasted with your high school friends, but before you could even tell your mother you were going out, you found her crying in the master bedroom. And just like that you were back to seeing red.

The door swung open and you practically stormed towards it like a woman possessed.

“We need to talk,” you started. “No, let me rephrase, I need to scream at you and you’re going to listen—”

“Honey,” your father said sternly, opening the door fully. “Do not be rude to Aaron, say hello.”

Shame hit you like a bus as Mr. Hotchner came into focus behind your father. Fuck, he was good. It was eerie how clever your father could be when he didn’t want to be told off, when he knew that he’d done something wrong and instead of owning up to it he’d do everything in his power to avoid talking about it.

“Hi, Mr. Hotchner,” you managed through gritted teeth as your father walked past you and into the kitchen.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he replied, an amused smile on his lips. “I didn’t know you were coming back for summer break.”

“I’m not,” you tried to keep your voice steady. He must’ve known why you were angry, why the sudden outburst, but he didn’t reply, he simply nodded, lips in a thin line, trying to look anywhere but you.

“Well,” he broke the short silence. “I better put this on ice.”

He held out a bottle of Scotch he’d presumably brought over from his own house next door and walked after your father. You stood alone at the open door, the freedom of the night away from the exhaustion of fighting against your parents alluring. And yet you couldn’t seem to walk out, couldn’t seem to will your legs to move you in the direction of the rational choice.

Your heart was beating unbearably fast, and it wasn’t because of whatever was happening between your parents. No, it had everything to do with the FBI agent that had just walked into your home and the way he had clearly glanced down at your exposed cleavage before he had to immediately shift his gaze to anything else.

Aaron didn’t want to leave you there but he truly didn’t have a choice. You were wearing a tight black dress, so tight in fact that he could’ve sworn he saw every curve of your body. What had made it even worse was the way your breasts were practically spilling out of the garment, the trim of your lacy bra peeking around the edges. He’d felt like a teenager all over again, his crotch tightening uncomfortably as he tried his hardest to listen to the words coming out of your mouth to make sure that he responded eloquently.

Your mother had already put out ice buckets and he practically slammed the bottle into an empty one. Was it stupid to chill Scotch? He honestly couldn’t even remember anymore as he desperately wished he could’ve dunk his already hardening erection on the ice as well. He needed to get a grip, needed to calm down, needed to pretend like he hadn’t already seen your body in the many pictures you had posted online in the two years that you’d been gone.

He served himself a double, watching as you left the door wide open and retreated back upstairs. He lingered by the table for a moment, finishing his drink and calming himself down. He’d known you for a little over two years, at least on a first name, dinner at your house every month, type of way. You had just graduated high school when he started teaching part time at the college where your father also taught. The two of them had become fast friends and in the months that followed while you waited out the summer to start classes you had babysat Jack while Aaron was away on cases.

It was wrong and he definitely knew it. But there was something so captivating about you, about your kindness and curiosity and interest in not only his work but in him as a person. You loved getting to know people, getting to share secrets and discuss the root of existence and emotion and life. It was easy to forget that you were this young, your eloquence far higher than most of the adults that had just started shuffling into your home.

He’d filled his glass up once more as your father’s friends and his colleagues arrived. He plastered on a polite smile and greeted everyone as they made their way through the house. The repetitive nature of small talk for the next twenty minutes allowed him to forget about you, calm his body down enough to appear normal, collected.

He had migrated to the backyard with the rest of his colleagues after a while, the men around him engaged in mindless conversation about the break ahead, their vacation plans, and anything that wasn’t about the elephant in the room, because he knew, they all knew, that your father had clearly been caught redhanded and if they didn’t get their wives to agree that he was nothing more than a victim, they could be taken down next.

You waited until the backyard was packed with people before you emerged from your room. If your father didn’t want his friends gossiping about his affair tonight then you’d give them something else to talk about. And what better thing to gossip about than your father’s college age daughter practically displaying her body for all of his married friends and their wives.

Wearing that skimpy thing that did nothing to cover you up could only mean one thing – you were trying to get back at your father. Aaron couldn’t help but almost choke on his drink as he watched you saunter back out of the house. His ears began ringing loudly as you swayed your hips, clearly asking for attention. You walked right up to the edge of the pool and dove in without so much as a single word, the stark contrast between the cocktail party and your rebellious, summer blowout attitude jarring.

He couldn’t help but notice your father’s absence back out in the courtyard, your mother also conveniently nowhere to be seen. He could only assume that she was either consoling his poor, broken ego or sucking him off inside. Either outcome made him feel incredibly bad for you, bad that you had to come back home to rumors of your father’s infidelity and your mother’s complete denial of it.

While she was working overtime trying to fix a one sided relationship, you were determined to lash out against it in the most childish way you could possibly think of, and that unfortunately meant parading around your backyard filled with middle aged men in practically nothing.

Well, fortunate for him because he got to see the way your nipples hardened against the sheer fabric the second you stepped out into the cold night air, got to marvel at way your waist dipped into your full hips, the plush muscle begging to be squeezed tightly, got to catch the faintest glance at the outline of your pussy against the red material. It was unfortunate because he knew he wasn’t the only one staring at you and he had to bite his tongue as he began to hear the men around him murmur about your body.

He wanted to step up and use his own frame to shield you from them, to hide you away from their practically salivating stares. But instead he simply took a sip of his drink and allowed himself to watch you like a hawk, to silently guard, determined to step in if any of them actually decided to turn their thoughts into action. Because even then he couldn’t help but feel protective of you.

Your father came barrelling out of the house mere minutes later, your mother practically running to catch up and stop him. He was about to blow up, about to make a scene, one that you were eagerly waiting for when her hand landed on his chest and he seemingly remembered where he was and who he was surrounded by. He instantly relaxed his face and Aaron couldn’t help but take a step forward, tense and ready to fight him.

“Honey,” your mother spoke instead, layering the guilt on thick. “Please get out of the pool, I don’t want you catching a cold.”

Aaron set his glass down and walked over to the little hamper by the grill, expertly fishing out a large towel. He could feel everyone else start to notice that he’d moved, that he was inserting himself into something that clearly had nothing to do with him. But it didn’t matter the second that your round, hurt, expressive eyes met his. His gaze softened, just for you, to let you know that you didn’t want to make this any worse than it already was. And for the first time ever, you listened to him.

Your mother thanked him as he walked around them, towel extended in his hands for you to simply curl yourself into it. He could tell your cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, and when he draped the fabric over your shivering body, he could smell the faint, lingering scent of alcohol on your breath. He sighed deeply, just for himself and you followed suit, taking the moment to compose yourself.

“Thank you,” you whispered, delicate fingers taking the towel from him and wrapping it around yourself, terrified of what your reaction would be if you’d let him do it for you. You were back inside the house in seconds, the party resuming quickly as your parents started their rounds of greetings and small talk. He lingered by the pool for a few minutes, not wanting to be incredibly obvious about following you inside.

He told himself that he only wanted to make sure you were alright, that there was nothing wrong with being concerned for you after what had just happened. And so when the waiters began to pass out hors d'oeuvres, he took advantage of the distraction and slipped back into the house.

“Sweetheart?” he whispered loudly as he willed the wood beneath his feet not to creak loudly against the final step of the staircase. “Are you alright?”

The second floor was deserted, terrifyingly quiet and dark. He noticed the light was on in your bathroom across the hall from your room and he approached. The second his shadow landed over the wood, the door swung wide open, greedy hands grabbing a hold of his shirt and pulling him into the small room.

“I need you,” you slurred, your hands sliding down towards his belt, trembling fingers struggling with the silver buckle. He couldn’t stop the groan that erupted from his throat, the sounds spurring you on.

He was so distracted by the thrill, the shock and surprise of your neediness, of your clear desire for him that his brain short circuited for a second, lost to the sensations he’d been craving from you for years.

You’d never done anything like this before, never even flirted with each other as far as he was concerned since he made sure to watch his words around you, only allowing himself one thing, to call you sweetheart. Which could only indicate that your sudden boldness meant that you’d thought about this just as much as he had, that you’d caught him staring at you with hunger in his eyes just like he’d caught you staring at him with danger in yours.

“Sweetheart,” he said bluntly, trying to use his words before he was forced to use his hands to stop you. “You’ve had a lot to drink,” you scoffed. “You’re upset,” your hand squeezed over the outline of his cock and it took everything in him to not let out a single sound. That seemed to do the trick as your confident demeanor slipped away and the terrified girl desperately trying to hide resurfaced.

Tears laced your eyes, your chest began to shake, your hands trembled, slowly slipping away from his body. He scooped them both up in his warm, large palms, bending your arms over your chest before pressing you tightly to his. You began to sob then and it broke Aaron’s heart. Your face landed over his frantically beating heart. If you noticed through your tears you made no effort to comment on it. He held you like that for a while, not caring at all that his clothes were definitely wet now.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, arms crossing over your chest in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up now that you were clearly not going to get what you’d wanted only seconds before. He crouched down and picked up the towel off the floor, this time making it a point to drape it over you and wrap you tightly in it. You felt like a child, a dumb, stupid child that had just thrown a tantrum and had been scolded. It was humiliating.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart,” he assured you, allowing himself to talk down to you just a little. His heart was still racing, his mind even more so now as he realized that the barrier that he’d put up between the two of you all those years ago had just been shattered into a million pieces. “Why don’t you take a shower and get some sleep?”

You nodded, refusing to look him in the eyes. But he would not have it. He hooked a finger under your chin, gently yet forcefully, pulling your gaze up to meet his. His thumb ghosted over your bottom lip, your mouth opening slightly without him doing anything to you.

“Good girl,” he hummed and you practically whimpered, your thighs pressing together. The side of his mouth curled into the tiniest of smirks before he removed his hand from your body completely and walked out the door, leaving you alone in your bathroom with a fire burning in your chest.

You were unsure when the decision had been made, but you’d awoken the next day to a letter from your mother on the kitchen counter, the house spotless as the cleaning crew she’d hired probably went through it the night before. Your parents were gone for the rest of the summer, apparently one of your father’s friends had a timeshare at some resort in Italy and they were able to squeeze your parents into their trip last minute.

You released a sigh you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The memories of the events of the night before had been washing over you in powerful, drowning waves ever since you opened your eyes fifteen minutes ago. You regretted at least ninety percent of your actions, having been so wrapped up in getting back at your father that you had completely forgotten that your actions would also affect your mother. The look of disappointment, of complete and utter shame and embarrassment that had taken over her face as she spoke to you haunting, especially now in the brightness of the day.

And then there was Mr. Hotchner. Fuck, you cringed every time you remembered what you’d done, how you’d come onto him so pathetically. You couldn’t deny the rejection didn’t hurt but he had been right. You were upset, unbelievably so, and it would’ve stung even more to think of your first time with him to have been because you were trying to make your father angry, not because you actually wanted to sleep with him.

And oh boy did you want to.

As much as Freud was an idiot, you were very aware after two years of your psychology degree that your attraction to older men had everything to do with your need to seek the approval your father denied you from your romantic partners.

You’d had a very childish crush on Mr. Hotchner for years. It was silly, something that kept your pussy wet at night and made your friends giggle whenever you told them about the hot neighbor that you used to babysit for. But you knew he was unattainable. You could never have him, and sadly, that only made you want him even more.

In an act of defiance you hadn’t done what he’d told you to do the night before. Instead you took off the remaining pieces of clothing you still had on and tossed them into your shower before you walked across the hall to your room, pulled out the shitty bullet vibrator you’d left behind two years ago, and desperately tried to get yourself off. To say you’d been unsuccessful, your fingers and the weak device never even coming close to what you truly desired, what you needed.

That had only made you angrier, angrier at yourself, angrier at him. By the time you had drank your first cup of coffee all of your embarrassment had washed away into cold, seething irritation. He clearly wanted you just as much as you wanted him. You definitely hadn’t imagined the way he responded to your touch, the way he’d groaned in response. And that was the problem. He’d been holding himself back, whatever friendly relationship the two of you had built, one that you regarded as honest and sincere nothing more than a facade he’d concocted to keep you at arm’s length.

You grabbed a pair of sunglasses that your mother must’ve left on the kitchen counter and placed them over your eyes before walking back out to your backward. You were aware that there was a specific spot in front of the sliding doors that he could see from his house next door. You’d noticed it when you were babysitting one time, the thrill that he could’ve seen you in your bikini at some point that summer driving you insane.

You didn’t want to be at arm’s length anymore. You refused to let whatever fears you were holding onto because of his relationship with your father to stop you from going after what you’d wanted for so long.

You dragged a lounge chair over to that exact spot, the blaring sun perfectly over it as the excuse you needed in case he brought up your pathetic ploy. Once you were satisfied with your placement you shrugged off the robe you’d been wearing, the fabric falling off your shoulders and pooling around your feet in an instant to reveal absolutely nothing covering your body.

You’d fallen asleep at some point, completely naked and aggravated. You made sure to take your time getting into a comfortable position over the chair, chest out, legs curled suggestively, putting all of your assets on display. With the bait set, it was now a matter of waiting for him to bite.

You heard him yell your name across your house about ten minutes later. It didn’t surprise you that he had his own set of keys, your stomach already twisting in anticipation and excitement at just how easy it had been to get him exactly where you wanted him.

“Are you decent?” he asked with a smirk in his voice. He knew you weren’t. “Jack is here with me.”

You practically leapt off the chair, frantically picking up the robe and putting it on as the two of them walked out onto the backyard. Jack said your name then, chipper and excited, immediately melting away any ice left behind. You turned around just in time for the boy to wrap himself around your legs, squeezing you into a tight hug which you reciprocated, pulling him up to sit on your hip.

“Hi, angel,” you greeted the boy. “How’s summer treating you?”

“Hot,” he replied, trying to push himself away from you. You couldn’t help but laugh, setting him back down in the shade. “Can we swim in your pool?”

“Of course you can!” you replied. “Do you mind if I join you?”

The boy’s eyes practically widened out of his head in joy, turning back to his dad with just an unbelievable amount of energy.

“Not at all,” Mr. Hotchner replied for him and you shot him a smile before you excused yourself to go change into something kid appropriate.

To say that he’d seen your little display was an understatement. He’d been sitting on his desk in his home office, finalizing his weekly schedule with Jessica when he saw you step out. He knew, after much trial and error, that you couldn’t see him from this angle, and so he made no effort to move to get a better look.

And then you took off your robe and he was abruptly presented with your naked body. His mouth went dry in an instant, his pupils dilated, his heart pounded against his chest. It took him a full minute to realize that Jessica was trying to get his attention before his brain reconnected with his body and he asked her to repeat herself.

Five minutes later he was hanging up the call and rushing down the hall to ask Jack if he wanted to go swimming. The boy practically leapt to his feet, running across his room to get himself ready. They didn’t have a pool at their house, so your mother had generously let them use theirs after you went away for college. She’d even gotten them key to the house and sent him the alarm code every time they changed it just in case.

Aaron changed into his swimsuit in record time, practically tripping as he ran back and forth, all over the house, looking for the many, many toys that Jack definitely needed to stay distracted for the next few hours. As much as he wanted to walk over alone, find you naked and eager for him, fuck you on the lounge chair and then probably inside the pool to cool off, he couldn’t leave Jack behind, he wouldn’t leave Jack behind because he didn’t want you to know just how much you had affected him.

This was a power move, one that he had fallen for instantly. What he needed to do was not give in, not give you what you wanted, continue to frustrate you, to tease you until you couldn’t take it anymore, all because he wanted to remind you that he held all the cards, that he was the one calling the shots, that he would be the one on top while you writhed in pleasure beneath him.

You returned a few minutes later in a plain black one piece. To say he was disappointed was an understatement, but he admired your decorum while you were around Jack. It was like a flip had switched, eyes clouded with lust and desire clearing away to joy and excitement to spend your day with a hyperactive kid instead of lazily sunbathing your troubles away.

You handed Mr. Hotchner a bottle of sunscreen, having specifically chosen the cream kind instead of the spray so that he’d be forced to touch you when you asked, “Would you mind getting my back?”

He looked up at you with the same eyes from last night and you were surprised your knees didn’t buckle. He looked at Jack then to make sure the boy was adequately engrossed in his toys, clearly deciding which ones he was going to play with first, before he opened the bottle and squirted some of the cream into his palm.

“On my lap,” he ordered, low and just for you to hear. Your eyes immediately darkened and he smirked knowingly. You rolled your eyes then, reminding yourself that today was just playful after all.

You stepped forward towards his opened legs and prettily sat yourself down on his thigh, your back to him. You’d already put your hair up so he went right in. His warm, sticky palms landed on the sides of your neck first, slowly sliding down your shoulders before they returned to the center and then slid down your exposed back. While you couldn’t wear the skimpy, barely there suit you wanted, you’d still chosen something that gave him a subtle peek of your body.

He continued his movements, unapologetically taking his time, dragging his touches, lingering over your neck and putting pressure around it. You shivered under his hands, your ass unconsciously grinding down on his leg.

“Be a good girl and stay still,” he purred in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. You stilled immediately, his fingers squeezing around your neck softly in reward. “All done.”

Your brain processed the words and yet you made no effort to stand up, and he made no effort to make you. His hands grazed down your arms, the backs of his fingers practically leaving feather light kisses on your skin until they landed on your hips. He gave your love handles a squeeze before he let his hands settle over your lap, leaning down to rest his chin on the crook of your neck.

The gesture itself had been so casual yet unbearably intimate that you didn’t notice you’d stopped breathing until your lungs started to burn. You inhaled sharply, your entire body shivering as you tried to keep the panting at bay.

“You say the word and I’ll stop, sweetheart,” he whispered against your neck, gentle and kind, his tone meant to reassure you that you still had power. You nodded and he pressed a kiss below your ear, making you shudder once more. “So responsive for me.”

A whine escaped your lips, making Jack turn back to face the two of you. His hands were off you before you could even register, your own body reacting instinctively as you shot up to your feet.

“Ready to get in the water?” you managed, flashing the boy a bright smile. He nodded enthusiastically, picking up a few of his diving toys in one hand before taking your outstretched hand with his other one. He diligently led you to the shallow end of the pool and Aaron watched as you both threw the little fishes into the deep end, giggling as Jack tried to toss them farther than you.

He took a moment to compose himself, a moment to shift the material of his swim suit to try and hide the evidence of his arousal. He hated how easy it was for him to come undone around you, how you had him wrapped around your finger and could get him hard by simply existing. It made him feel young again, his libido higher than it’d been in years, and it was all because of you.

He was brought out of his thoughts when he heard you and Jack splash against the water. Jack resurfaced first, already panting as he worked overtime to keep himself above water. You appeared then, like a beautiful mermaid coming above water to lure unsuspecting sailors to their deaths. And in that moment Aaron knew that he’d sink to the bottom of the ocean if it meant he could have even a taste of you.

“Daddy!” Jack yelled, getting his attention. “Come into the pool!”

“Yeah, daddy,” you teased. “What are you waiting for?”

All the playfulness drained from his face in a second, making you choke on your own saliva in response before it reappeared as if nothing had happened. Your thighs rubbed together, the knowledge of the effect your words had had on him thrilling.

“Coming buddy,” he replied to the boy, choosing to ignore you as he stood back up, kicking off his flip flops and cannonballing into the pool.

Jack’s laughter brought you back down to reality as the waves his dad had created crashed over you, cooling your overheating face. You watched him resurface at the other end of the pool, one of the fishes you’d thrown under between his fingers.

“One to zero,” he announced playfully and Jack gasped, immediately diving down to gather as many fishes as he could, giving Aaron the perfect pocket of privacy to glance back at you. His face fell into a stern look of warning, daring you to call him that again to see what you could find out.

You smirked back briefly before diving underwater, the mere mention of a challenge overshadowing whatever tension lingered between the two of you.

You grabbed three fishes, swimming across the pool towards him underwater. You made sure Jack was above water before you made your move, fingers wrapping around Mr. Hotchner’s trunks to pull yourself out of the water as you practically climbed him.

You felt him tense against your touch and that made your body flood with warmth once more. You made him feel like this, you made him react like this, you had the same effect on him that he had over you.

Your head pierced the surface and he wasted no time pulling you further out of the water, his arm hooking around your waist again and pressing your hip against his painfully hard erection.

You gasped loudly, nervously looking around and noticing that Jack had thankfully gone back underwater so at the very least he wouldn’t see the euphoric expression on your face.

“Fuck,” you moaned, your hands steadying yourself against his chest. “Mr. Hotchner,” you whined and his grip tightened.

For a second you forgot about where you were and the game you were still playing. Your eyes landed on his. They were hazy, glossed over and dangerously close to snapping.

“Address me properly,” he ordered, lifting his knee to slide between your legs and press you further into him. You swallowed a moan, your breathing ragged, your skin unbearably tight over your body.

You opened your mouth to speak but the word was screamed into existence by a voice that wasn’t yours. The two of you turned to face Jack who was eagerly swimming over to where the two of you were. You started to shift uncomfortably, trying to pull away from him, but he kept you in place as if you weren’t caught in a compromising position.

“Did you get tired of swimming?” Jack asked you like this was the most normal thing in the world and you managed a nod. “That’s okay! I get tired sometimes and daddy has to hold me too.”

Your cheeks heated up once more and you thanked every deity out there that the sun was so hot on your skin that the kid didn’t notice a change. Jack reached out and grabbed a hold of his father’s shoulder to keep himself above water before pulling out his other hand from under the water, a fistfull of the colorful fishes in his palm.

“I got six!” he told you and you finally snapped out of your daze, groaning dramatically as you showed him your own loot only being three.

“I demand a rematch!” you told the boy before tossing your fishes back into the pool. He followed your lead and held your stare, the two of you seizing the other up before he got tired of waiting and dove back into the water, his giggles getting swallowed by the water.

“Little cheater!” Aaron let you go then and you followed after the boy. You were so concerned with winning the silly game that you didn’t even notice the dopey smile across his face, one that he couldn’t hide from himself, one that almost made his heart burst with happiness.

You played with the fishies a few more times until Jack was complaining that he was starting to get hungry and the three of you got out of the pool to dry off while Mr. Hotchner ordered lunch.

You reapplied Jack’s sunscreen, placed a hat over his head and a towel over his body before you walked into the house to make a pitcher of lemonade and get some of the fruit your mother had bought a few days ago so that you could snack on it while you waited for the pizza to get there.

You’d cut the lemons and had started squeezing them into the pitcher when his hands wrapped around your waist again, his front pressing against your back forcefully. You ground your ass back into him, never once stopping your task.

“Hi,” he whispered in your ear.

“Hello,” you replied, squeezing a half of a lemon with your hand, too lazy to get something else dirty.

“Thank you for today,” he continued, his hands now slowly running up and down your sides, begging to elicit a reaction from you. “I know it’s not exactly what you planned but Jack is having a lot of fun.”

You hummed in agreement. “I’m having a lot of fun too.”

“Oh, yeah?” he stepped forward, locking you in place between the counter and his chest. “I’m having a lot of fun three.”

You snorted at the insinuation and the terrible joke, and he laughed in return, the two of you devolving into a fit of giggles like you’ve known each other intimately for years. And in a weird, almost strange way, you had. You’ve always had this rapport with him, this deep understanding of each other, mostly because you were both so into the other that you’d actually spent many nights asking questions, eager to know more.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked you once the laughter subsided and your heart started beating rapidly once more.

You immediately twisted around in his grip, holding your hands up and away from him as the juices from the lemons ran down your arms.

“Yes,” you heaved and he didn’t waste another second as he pressed his lips to yours. They were so soft and still warm from the sun still lingering over them, lulling you into a sense of safety. You opened your lips as his hands left your waist and cupped your jaw to press you further into him. You moaned into his mouth as his tongue entered, deepening the kiss into a hungry and desperate mess.

He pulled back so you could breathe after a few more laps and your eyes blinked open, the light reflecting against them and making them shine almost ethereally. He smiled, his thumbs rubbing over your cheeks. You returned the smile, somehow already feeling warm and fuzzy from just a kiss. He leaned in again, his nose playfully tickling your own, making you giggle sweetly. He truly wanted nothing more than to make you laugh all the time.

He was about to press his lips against yours again, already craving the feeling like a man that had been left to wander the desert for days, when his phone rang loudly, interrupting the tender moment. He sighed deeply, apologetically looking at you and you immediately shook your head, letting him know not to worry about it. He picked up the phone, determined to make the conversation quick so he could return to what he truly wanted to do.

In the meantime you finished the lemonade, washed your hands with soap, and brought the pitcher, some glasses, and the bowl of cubed watermelon to the table outside. You checked in on Jack, the boy having fallen asleep, making you chuckle softly. You sat yourself at the table and waited for him to come back, already missing his lips.

It was certainly an interesting turn of events, made even more interesting by how easy it was to fit into his life. Even with your parents you always felt like the odd one out, like they were their own thing and you just sort of existed around them. But with Mr. Hotchner and Jack…you felt like you just fit right in, like you’d always been a part of their family.

When he finally exited into the backyard he bore a very different expression on his face, one of remorse and stress. The playfulness from before had left his body and all that remained was the stoic FBI agent you’d sometimes get when he returned from cases or…got called into one.

You sighed deeply, knowing that was exactly what had happened and he had to stop himself from melting at the thought that you just knew what he needed before he could even ask it.

“Do you need me to look after Jack?” you asked as he sat down on the chair across from you.

“Please,” he replied, taking your hand in his and squeezing gently. “Jessica can pick him up at school Wednesday afternoon and take him to her place.”

You nodded, returning the squeeze and trying to alleviate his guilt with an understanding smile.

“When do you leave?” he asked you then, one of the many elephants in the room finally getting addressed.

“Friday morning,” you replied and it was his turn to sigh, defeated. As much as you understood his work and just how much he needed it, he also understood your own, your life being far away from D.C., far away from him. He just wanted you all to himself, here with him all the time, and it pained him that he couldn’t have it.

After allowing himself another moment of sitting in silence, of feeling his emotions and letting them tear his heart into pieces, he stood up, pulling you to your feet with him. He crushed his lips to yours and your hands finally tangled in his hair, his own greedily squeezing your hips.

“Pizza should be here any minute,” he mumbled against your lips.

“I got it, don’t worry,” you replied, pressing a closed kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Why don’t you say goodbye to Jack?”

He nodded, reluctantly letting you go as he knelt down beside the lounge chair and woke the boy up. You watched as they said their goodbyes, your fingers coming up to trace your lips where he’d just kissed you, all the conflicting things you were feeling crashing over you at once.

The first phone call came that same night. It was late, you were already asleep when your phone vibrated on the nightstand next to you. You were honestly surprised that you’d heard it, annoyed more so than surprised as your eyes blinked open painfully.

“Hello?” your voice was deep, hoarse and clearly exhausted.

“Hi, sweetheart,” his on the other hand was soft and awake.

“Hi,” you replied, settling back on the soft pillow and closing your eyes.

“Did I wake you?”

“Mhmm,” you whined and it broke his heart.

“I’m sorry,” to his credit, he did sound sorry.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled.

“I just wanted to say goodnight to Jack.” And to you.

“He fell asleep immediately…” You tried to stay awake, desperately, but sleep was pulling you down, the heat from spending the entire day under the sun had seeped deep into your bones, making them heavy. The current had sinked your boat and you were peacefully sinking under the waves with it. You didn’t even register him calling your name, realizing that you were probably out of it, and finally telling you that he’d call you another time.

You woke up bright and early the next morning, your senses overwhelmed by just how much his bed smelled like him.

It was honestly a stupid thought, that the things that were his carried him with them, but it didn’t matter how many times you’d slept here in the past, there was something so all consuming about them now.

Your three days with Jack went by quickly. You had forgotten how much of a perfect kid he was, how attentive and kind and easy it was to take care of him. Getting him ready for school was a breeze, breakfasts were filled with laughter and him rambling on about the dream he’d had the night before. Once you dropped him off at school, you found yourself missing him more than you ever had, and so you spent your days wandering aimlessly.

On Monday you cleaned the entire house, top to bottom. You put on one of Mr. Hotchner’s records on and drowned the house in music, your voice booming just as loudly as the singer’s, wanting nothing more than to distract yourself from the ache in your chest.

On Tuesday there was a lice outbreak and luckily, Jack was not affected. They still had to shut down the school for the day, so Jack had gotten a half day. You took him to the store to buy enough baking supplies to start your own bakery, and spent the rest of the afternoon making cookies and cupcakes.

It was around six that your phone rang. You were in the kitchen, cooking dinner for the two of you. Saucepan forgotten, you immediately crossed the room, fingers fumbling to answer the phone.

“Hey, give me one second,” you cut him off, putting him on speaker before you stepped out into the hall. “Jack! Your dad’s on the phone!”

“I don’t know if I should be touched or offended that you don’t want to speak with me,” he cracked and you couldn’t help but smile, making your way back to the device on his counter.

“I always want to talk to you,” you hummed. “But I also know you’re busy and—”

“Dad!” Jack ran into the kitchen, swiping the phone away from you and running right back down the hall. You laughed to yourself, returning to the stove before you burnt something.

You hadn’t been speaking, not really. Every so often you’d send him a picture of what you were up to and he’d do his best to reply, always short and sweet. He never sent any pictures of his own for obvious reasons, but it still made your heart constrict every time that you woke up the morning after to a missed call from him.

They were on the West Coast, in a small town somewhere in Oregon. At least that’s what you’d gathered from the messages here and there. By Wednesday you said goodbye to Jack at dropoff and told him you’d see him for Christmas. He was, understandably, very upset, since you’d just spent, what he kept calling, the best three days of his life with him. It broke your heart, shattered it into a million pieces, but you reminded him that you didn’t live there anymore and that you had other places to be. Obviously not cooler than spending time with him, but that it was still important.

Jessica called you that afternoon to let you know that she had Jack and you chatted for a bit. She was always so easy to talk to, her openness to their strange family dynamic almost overwhelmingly supportive. She always remembered your birthday, always sent you a card (one that you knew she’d been making Mr. Hotchner and Jack to sign every year), and always made sure to ask if you were coming back home for any major break.

She liked having you around, liked the extra support you had given them while Jack was out on his own break, liked that the boy clearly loved you and felt safe around you. And after the three days you had spent with him then, it only made sense to start thinking about actually coming back home next summer to help them out, to have an excuse to see him as often as you could.

You spent Wednesday and Thursday working on the tasks you'd been left with from your internship. They had graciously allowed you to go home after you informed them there was a family emergency, but you still had to meet the weekly quota, just like everyone else. Being in your house alone was...exhausting. It was too quiet, too empty, too devoid of Jack's infectious laugh and...and Mr. Hotchner's low and inviting voice.

You hadn't spoken to him since you let him know Jessica had picked his son up. You knew he was busy, knew that he probably didn't want to speak to you while his mind was not in the right place, while he was using most of his energy to do his job. He didn't text and so neither did you. And as much as you understood why, the silence had only made your heart clench in pain, your brain already overthinking all the possibilities.

He was supposed to arrive in a few hours, having received the only text he'd sent to tell you that they were about to take off and that he should be back home in a few hours.

You’d decided to get one last swim in before you returned to your concrete life that was Brooklyn. But if you were being honest with yourself, you just needed a distraction.

You’d been drowning, quite literally, as the finality of the distance that you were about to put between yourself and Mr. Hotchner loomed closer and closer. Sure, he traveled a lot for work, he was away at least sixty percent of the time…but you had moved away two years ago with the intention of cutting yourself loose of all the ties keeping you in D.C.

It had been easy to do so, the only one that truly hurt you every day being your mother. But now, after sitting with your overwhelming crush that has snowballed into catching actual feelings for him…was hell.

You needed to talk to him about it, needed to ask him to tell you that everything was going to be okay, that you could make this work, whatever this was. But you also didn’t want to pressure him, didn’t want to pressure yourself to get tied down to something that could very easily not work out.

You were floating on your back, simply allowing the water to gently rock you around the pool when you saw a pair of slacked legs walking towards the edge of the pool.

“There you are, sweetheart,” he hummed. “I’ve been calling for a whole minute and you didn’t answer.”

You stood yourself up, shooting him an apologetic smile as you walked towards him.

“'m sorry,” you murmured, the tightening on your heart only squeezing harder now that he was really here. He shot you a smile in response but he looked tired, defeated almost. You could only imagine what it must feel like to walk around with all of that weight, with the burden of the atrocious things they dealt with every day.

He squatted down next to the edge and you propped yourself up on the space between his legs to pull yourself high enough for his lips to reach yours. The kiss was short and soft, domestic almost, as if you did this every time he came back home from a long case.

You slid back into the water, unable to hold yourself up any longer as an excuse to put some distance between the two of you. You were certain that if he stared at you for even a second longer, he would definitely know there was something wrong, that somehow he’d be able to see into your body and realize just how contorted your heart was.

“Join me?” you asked, trying to change the subject before it was even brought up.

He sighed, conflicted. “I don’t think we should, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you whined. “I promise I’ll behave.”

He chuckled at that, knowing fully well that you most definitely would not, because he would most certainly not. But he found himself standing back up, quickly shrugging off his button down, the white wife pleaser underneath, his shoes, socks, and pants. You watched him in awe, mouth hanging slightly open as you began to salivate, your desire quickly making you forget all about your painful feelings.

He smirked at you as he sat down on the edge of the pool and slowly lowered himself into it. You hadn’t realized until he stretched his hand out to you that you’d drifted away to the other side of the pool. You took a small, steadying breath, trying to appear as normal as possible before you walked back to him.

His hands wrapped around you instantly, bringing you into him tightly. It was almost as if he relaxed into you, his breathing deep and steady, a drastic contrast to your rapidly beating heart. You tried so hard to copy his rhythm, to blend into it in a feeble attempt to not raise suspicion, to show him that you were happy he was back.

And it worked...for almost a second.

“Thank you for taking care of Jack,” he said.

“It was my pleasure,” you replied almost too quickly.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” he pulled back, his gaze desperately trying to meet yours.

You hated him so much, hated how good he was at his job, hated how he could read you like it was the easiest thing in the world. Meanwhile, you were having to use all of your knowledge to just guess how he was feeling.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you lied, your fingers subconsciously fiddling with his hair. He sighed, shifting your core away from his as his hand snaked down to pull your swimsuit bottoms out of the way. Your eyes widened in shock and confusion, finally snapping up to meet his but his attention was no longer on your face.

Before you could question the sudden advance, he plunged his middle finger into you, making you moan loudly, your walls clenching around him.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he ordered, his finger curling upwards to hook against the spot that he somehow knew instinctively would make you come undone.

You whined, holding onto him tighter. “I’m scared!”

“Of what?”

“This–” he curled his finger again, another moan erupting. “Us– fuck, I’m scared that I won’t be able to see you every day and it’ll mess up whatever this is,” you practically screamed.

His movements stilled and you decided to foolishly allow yourself to meet his eyes. He was staring at you with what you could only describe as relief?

You blinked, realizing that he was allowing you to read him like he could read you. You’d said exactly what he was thinking, what he was also holding in, what the heaviness that he carried had been about.

He pressed further into you. “Do you want to be mine?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “I want to be yours, all yours.”

“That’s good,” he groaned. “Because I want to be all yours too, sweetheart.”

You whined at his words, the tight grip fear had on your heart releasing just enough to let you breathe again.

“I thought…” you trailed off, afraid that if you said what you’d thought aloud that he’d hate you. Instead he just waited patiently for you to muster the courage to say what you’d been holding in. “I thought you might only want to fuck me and nothing else.”

He shoved another finger into you at that, as if you say how dare you think that. You moaned again, your body tensing up, your walls pulsing around his fingers, practically keeping them hostage inside of you.

“So tight,” he mumbled, clearly needing a moment to regain his composure before he spoke again. “I’ve wanted you– to be with you for a while, sweetheart. I was just…afraid of how it could destroy your relationship with your parents.”

The second elephant in the room reappeared and you couldn’t help but get another one of your fears off your chest.

“Did you know he was…” you trail off before you can finish your sentence but Aaron knew exactly what you wanted to ask him.

“No, I didn’t,” he shook his head, intensely observing your reaction. When you tensed under his touch he wasted no time to press a soft kiss to your temple. If you didn’t know but now you do then why are you still hanging around with him? That was the second part of your question, of your uneasiness, of your tensing body.

“To see you,” he murmured against your skin and you pulled back from his touch, far enough to look him in the eyes. “I kept coming back to see you.”

The confession made your stomach flip. You didn’t know how to respond, how to tell him that you’d felt the same way in a way that didn’t make you come across as insane or clingy or immature. So instead you smiled softly, leaning forward to press your lips to his once more. His grip on your body tightened, his lips on yours opened, pulling you further into him. You may not have tomorrow, but you definitely had tonight.

“I am more than happy and willing to take this slow, to just see where it goes,” he makes it crystal clear, no way to misinterpret his words, no way for you to twist them until you’ve convinced yourself that you’re crazy. Instead you just let your mind free.

“Please fuck me,” you begged and a groan loudly erupted from his throat. His fingers resumed their fast pace but you whined in response, trying to stop him. “No, I need your cock in me, please.”

He shushed you then, kissing your temple gently as he only doubled down in his forcefulness.

“Let me make you cum first,” he replied. “I gotta stretch you out, you’re so tight.”

You whimpered then, a symphony of breathy moans as you remembered just how big he’d felt through his pants. If he was telling you he needed to work you up before he could slide inside of you then you would obey. Fuck, the anticipation alone was going to be the death of you.

The water began to splash over the edge, the constant crashing of waves somehow in perfect synchronicity to the pace he’d set. It quickly became overwhelming, as if your pleasure was so intense it was actually transcending your body and manipulating the world around you.

You moaned into his ear, your hands desperately digging into his back, trying to anchor yourself to him, afraid that you could slip away at any moment. He began peppering kisses along your jaw, each one lower and lower until he was physically unable to reach any more of your skin due to the water level.

You were so close, so, so, close and he could feel it. Your body had tensed, your toes curled against his lower back, pulling him closer to you. And with one final thrust against the spot inside of you that made you see stars, the band snapped and you were screaming, not caring if the neighbors could hear you.

He worked you through your orgasm, his fingers slowing down to a bearable pace as you rested your forehead against his chest.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked, clearly concerned that you hadn’t said something for a couple of minutes. You nodded against his body, slowly pushing against his chest to face him.

“Never better,” you replied and his eyebrows shot up in provocation.

“Do you want to make them a little better?” he teased and you couldn’t help the smile that took over.

“Yes.”

He pulled his hand out of you and you whined at the loss of contact.

“Such a greedy girl,” he mocked. “You’re about to be stuffed with my cock and you’re whining about missing my fingers.”

You shivered, eyes darkening as he grabbed a hold of your hand and led you back to the shallow end of the pool. He helped you out of the water, his hands attentive, possessive, never once letting you take a step without being on you.

Once you were out of the water he pulled you into him swiftly, lips back on yours with abandon. You practically melted into his touch, into his embrace, into him. Every thought in your brain was about him, about how soft his lips were, about how he smelled like a warm fire in a forest, about how his rough hands felt on your body, about how desperate he was for you.

You didn’t even register as he undid the knots of your bathing suit, only felt the cold air against your nipples, making them immediately perk up. The back of his hands accidentally brushed one as he shuffled to discard your top and you moaned into his mouth. The noise that reverberated from him in response was addictive. His eyes snapped open and he pulled back, your own lips chasing his in protest.

But he didn’t give you a second to figure him out as he arched your back with his hands, his mouth latching onto the nipple he’d just touched. It was your turn to mewl, eyes glossy and hands hungry to dig into him.

“Aaron,” you whimpered and he froze, ice cold, fully stopping his movements. His mouth softly unlatched from your breast, a thin string of saliva connecting him to you. Your face heated up immediately, the mere thought that you did something to upset him filled your eyes with tears.

“What did you say?” he asked, softly, as if he knew you were feeling like a small little animal and he needed to be careful not to spook you.

“A-Aaron?” you mumble, not even once fully comprehending what you had just done.

“You’ve never called me Aaron before,” he explained, taking pity on how much your brain was clearly not working at the moment.

You blinked in confusion, a tear accidentally falling down your cheek. He immediately wiped it away, looking down at you with eyes filled with nothing but adoration.

“I’m sorry—” you started, unsure exactly what you’re apologizing for. And he shuts you up with a kiss immediately.

“Say it again,” he groaned against your lips.

“Aaron,” you repeated, his name finally feeling heavy and important on your tongue.

He places a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Again.”

“Aaron.”

Another kiss, this one on your neck. “Again.”

“Aaron,” he licked down to the base of your neck, his teeth greedily sinking into your soft skin as his lips suck. “Fuck, Aaron, please.”

You whined again, the sting of his mouth marking your body absolutely making you lose it. Whatever wits remained evaporated in an instant. When he pulled back, eyes practically raven, face flushed, lips plump and swollen, you couldn’t help the need to reward him.

Your hands landed on the pronounced outline of his cock against his still wet, black boxers. He wasn’t quick enough to stop you as you wasted no time pulling the fabric off him. Your eyes widened, your breathing hitched in your throat, your hand trembled slightly as you abandoned your efforts to get his boxers down his thighs and instead tentatively returned your hand to hover over his length.

He was so hard, the vein running along the underside practically pulsating. You tentatively traced it with your nail and he hissed. You smiled to yourself, your full palm replacing your finger as you wrapped your hand around him, slowly pumping him.

His own hand curled around your wrist, demanding you to stop. Your eyes shot up to finally see him, to see just how clenched his jaw was, just how deep his breathing had become.

“No, sweetheart,” he huffed. “I need you.”

As if you could both finally read each other’s minds, you untangled yourselves from each other, discarding the clothing that remained on your bodies and tossed it away before his eyes landed on you, on your naked frame, now right in front of him and not far away, separated from him by the haziness of glass.

His eyes raked lower to your pussy and his brows knitted in surprise.

“You have a tattoo,” the question blended into a statement as his hand gripped your hip, pulling you forward so that he could see it better. You bit your lip, amused by just how mesmerized he looked.

“A friend of mine gave it to me first semester,” you explained, omitting the many health code violations, how you’d been high and couldn’t remember actually getting it, or the fact that you had been sleeping with your friend when he did.

He traced his thumb over it, the placement was lower than your hip, easily hidden by your underwear and small enough that he’d never been able to make it out at a distance. His thumb dug into the center of the shitty heart then, anchoring his grip as he pulled you back to him. You moaned at the sting and it only spurred him on, the realization that you liked it when he hurt you igniting a fire in him.

His other arm hooked under your ass, lifting you over his shoulder. You gasped loudly, your confusion quickly turning into a fit of giggles as he moved you both towards the lounge chair that you had rearranged earlier that week to face his house.

He made sure to hook his foot around the pants he’d discarded earlier, kicking them forward with his foot, making sure that they landed right against the chair. He then unlatched the backrest and quickly set you down on it, your entire body over the comfortable foam cushion your mother had bought last year just for the Hotchners.

He knelt between your legs, hands running down your body to pry them open for him. It didn’t take much as you opened yourself up to him eagerly. He grinned, the smile that graced you one that you’d never seen from him before, one that even he couldn’t remember when he’d smiled like that last.

Before he forgot, he reached over to where he’d thrown his pants, growing impatient as he struggled to pull out his wallet and procure a single silver wrapper from it. You’d been so consumed by the moment that you hadn’t even thought about protection.

You thought about telling him not to, that you were on birth control and that as far as you were concerned you were clean. But you had no idea where he’d been, not that talking about his sexual partners bothered you, but bringing it up now did not seem like the right time.

“Someone was sure of himself,” you teased, watching him roll on the sheer latex over himself with more concentration than you’d ever seen from him before, and that was saying a lot.

He retaliated by slamming his tip into you without warning. Your head fell back, a moan rocking through you and down to your core, the waves reverberating against him, causing him to take a sharp, steadying breath.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he panted, a little condescending and you swallowed the urge to fight back, to resume the game you’d started when you called him daddy. He didn’t know just how deep you were willing to go, how much fun the two of you would have.

But tonight wasn’t the night for it. You needed him, craved him, desperately demanded that he fill the ache between your legs. You nodded, your hands gripping the cushion below you.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your need to anchor yourself, his ego boosted so high he had no idea how he was supposed to come back down. But he didn’t care, he couldn’t care, not when you were laid out in front of him like a buffet, what he’d been starving for the only thing on the menu now.

His left hand wrapped around your thigh, opening you further. You propped your other leg over the armrest, and he pushed forward. He had not been lying, fortunately for you. He stretched you painfully, practically stuffing you full.

He made it halfway into you when you hissed, one of your hands shooting up to wrap around his bicep, urging him to stop. He stilled immediately, slowly rocking his hips back to slide out of you before slowly pushing himself back in.

That’s when you fell, your arms giving out under you. An accomplished grin lit up his features. He sat himself back up on his heels to tower over you. Your hand sliding down to the one he’d wrapped around your leg, your fingers lacing with his, almost like a pinky promise as he continued his slow rhythm, never giving you too much, never forcing your body to take anything it wasn’t ready for.

You could practically feel the wetness dripping out of you, coating him more and more with every thrust. He could clearly feel it too, the slick making it easier for him to slide in and out of you each time.

He took it as an indication to keep going. He thrust back into you, pushing himself just an inch further than before. You were a mess of whines and whimpers, your back arching in response, needing him fully in you.

“Please, Aaron,” you slurred. “More.”

He pulled out of you completely, the desire to see himself slam back into you fully overwhelming. His hips pushed forward, easily sliding himself inside to the hilt, your ass slapping against his hips beautifully. He moaned then, his hands flying to your hips, locking you in place. You whimpered, your head craning up enough to see there was no space left between the two of you.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, your walls clenching around him unconsciously.

His eyes shut close in pleasure at your movement, jaw clenching, fingers digging into your skin deeper. You took him in, on the verge of coming undone, on the verge of cumming in seconds like a teenage boy that didn’t know how to stop himself.

You giggled, your warm laughter bringing him back to you as he realized what you were laughing about. He scoffed, blush creeping over his cheeks in the most adorable way. You clenched around him again, deliberate and mean. He almost screamed then, the moan that left his lips guttural and raw.

“Sweetheart, you’re killing me,” he huffed. “I don’t want to cum yet, give me a second, alright?”

You sighed, feigning annoyance, but respected his request, unclenching your muscles to give him a moment of respite. Your hands began to draw circles over his own, nails slowly dragging up his arms and towards his chest, gentle, curious, exploring.

You took your time, diligently running your fingers over every ridge, every dip, every single one of the scars that littered his abdomen. They were smaller now and faded from what they had been when he was first attacked, but you knew they were there.

He hadn’t told you the full story, hadn’t really mentioned it aside from briefly alluding to it when he was forced to explain a comment Jack had made in passing one time, a comment about his mother. But you’d noticed them years ago, and as much as he could act like he was over it, like he was comfortable being shirtless around you, you needed him to know that he was safe, that he could trust you.

He didn’t flinch under your touch, instead he hummed, his own hands shifting their grip on you to show you how much he appreciated your touch.

“Did you catch the bad guy?” you asked suddenly. He turned to face you with a scolding expression, this is clearly not the time for this. It only made you laugh again, embarrassed. “What? Thinking about gross things helps!”

“I don’t want to ever think about that when I’m with you, got it?” he commanded.

“Yes, sir,” you replied and his eyes darkened once more, whatever fear of bursting immediately leaving his body as lustful greed flooded back in, emboldening him.

“What you called me the other day,” he started, somehow both confident in what he wanted to ask and yet boyishly shy about it. “Are you okay with that?”

“What did I call you?” you acted dumb, so dumb indeed that it got you another powerful, forceful jam of his cock. You squealed, his tip now uncomfortably pressing deeply into you. “No, daddy, ’s too much,” you whined, your voice hitching into a sweet, high pitch that made his cock twitch inside of you. “It hurts.”

“Too deep?” he asked in his normal voice, making sure to check in with you. You nodded, desperate for him to pull back, and he immediately returned to the comfortable pain. You let out a deep breath, air filling your lungs again. He was concerned, but more than anything he was turned on, the desire to ruin you too strong. “I’m going to start moving, alright?”

“Yes, daddy,” you mumbled and he groaned loudly, his cock practically taking on a life of its own and making him react in a way he’d never experienced before.

Aaron understood what desire was, he knew what it felt like, knew what to do with it, but this? This wasn’t desire. This was debilitating, allconsuming, painful almost. His brain disconnected from his body, it was as though he was floating next to his body as well as feeling everything that was happening around him, to him, because of him.

He wanted to consume you, wanted to lose himself to the perfect sounds coming out of you, wanted to feel your tightness around him all the time, wanted to drown and stay at the bottom of your waters forever.

His moans danced with yours in a delicate choir ensemble, the slapping of your bodies coming together becoming the bass keeping the pace, the rattling of the lounge chair against the concrete floor the percussion, the scrapping of the mattress against the plastic the strings – it was all too much, too good, too perfect.

“I’m close, sweetheart,” he whined. “Rub your clit for me.”

Whatever coherent thoughts were left in you forced your body to obey immediately, your shaky hand landing in between your bodies. Your fingers were met with a lewd amount of slick, your clit puffy and screaming out to be touched. You rolled your fingers over it and the sensitivity sent you into overdrive, a snap of electricity running all the way down to your opening.

He moaned in response, your core starting to tighten with each thrust, with each touch. The pressure was tight, tighter, desperately trying to force your dam to burst.

“Daddy,” you whimpered. “Daddy, please, please, please, please–”

“Cum, sweetheart, cum all over me,” he demanded and you let it break. Waves of pleasure crashed against you, your entire body shaking, thrashing, slamming against his. Your moans turned into whines, you dug into his forearms, your legs hooked around his waist, pulling him further into you, locking him in place.

The second he felt you clench against him, the second he felt your core tighten, your slick warm his entirety, your nails digging into his arms so hard he wouldn’t be surprised you drew blood – he lost it. He managed to thrust into you two more times before he slammed himself as far as he could inside of you, not caring if it was uncomfortable for you.

He came hot and hard into the condom, his own pleasure blurring his vision, making his own body shake against yours, making his heart feel like it had skipped a beat. He stopped breathing for a few seconds, the sensations too overwhelming for his body to remember that it needed to breathe to survive.

You were panting hard, your chest rising and falling as if you’d just ran a marathon. Your nails had stopped digging into his skin but he barely registered the lack of pain. It wasn’t until you ran your fingers over the indents in his arms that he opened his eyes, seeking yours immediately.

You waited until his gaze met yours as if it was about time it did. You smiled lazily at him, completely spent, content, satisfied. He returned the smile, allowing himself to lower his body down over yours. His chest pressed against your own, softly caging you, holding you captive as his aching lips found yours.

This kiss was unlike any of the ones you’d shared, unlike any of the ones you had shared with anyone before. It was definitive, possessive, claiming you as his, and yet it was unbearably gentle, playful, wholesome.

He was the first to pull back for air, but he didn’t move away, instead he pressed his forehead to yours, his gaze unflinching, trying to communicate so much with no words at all. It was like he was making sure to savor every last drop, committing the sight and feeling of you to memory.

Aaron took much of his life for granted, the routine of it all having numbed him to most things that other people would deem as exciting or fulfilling. The only area of his life where that wasn’t the case was his son. That little boy made everything worthwhile, every battle worth fighting, every day worth living. And now, looking at you, feeling how good he’d made you feel, he knew had found something else, someone else, that made him feel excited for what the next day could bring. That made him feel fulfilled in more ways than he could yet comprehend.

Whatever doubts you’d had, whatever walls you had started to put up to protect yourself now laid crumbled all around you. He was right from the start, you were his, whatever that happened would happen, the best that you could do was ride the waves and see where they would lead you. All that did matter was that he was there and that you knew that he was also yours.

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! This chapter was a blast to write after all the angst that Moments has killed me with.

My requests are open! I have a few chapter ideas for Mr. Hotchner but I would love to hear what y’all would like to see. Even if it doesn’t make it into the actual series, I will try to write some cute lil blurbs.

And also, because I’m a writer that needs validation, please leave me comments or love letters if you’d like to remain anon. I need the praise and love, thank you 🩷

Ps. The next chapter is titled Guest Lecturer so you can imagine what kind of debauchery I’m about to write.

Pss. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future updates!

#dbf!hotch #dbf!hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner #dbf!aaron hotchner #professor!Hotch #perv!hotch #we shouldn’t (and yet we do)

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dilvuc · 4 months

Text

❝MUSHROOM WIFE❞

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: fluff

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗: male

𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖑𝖊: mushroom wife

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: jade leech x m!reader

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: none

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: jade made a decision to act as your housewife. you find it really cute and you can't deny his offer

“Welcome home, dear~” jade greeted you at the door with an apron on. grim was a little confused and scared what's going on here. he feels that the organized leech wants something.

“I'm home…” you blushed with a soft smile. jade clasped his hands together, “Would you like a bath? Dinner? Or…”

jade winked, pressing his finger against his cheek, “Me~?”

“???” grim look at the leech confused, “What's going on?! Why are you here?! [Y]! Explain!”

“Well…” you mumbled, scratching the back of his head. jade chuckled, “We’ve made a promise~”

“Eh? What did you say?” you blinked.

“Let me be your wife. I would like to prove that I'll be a better wife for you in the future.” jade smiled, pressing his hand over his heart. you were a little taken back by this. the male continued, “You don't mind me acting as your wife?”

“A-ah…I…why did you ask that?” you uttered with a red face. jade blushed, feeling a little embarrassed, “Um…I just want to…become the best wife for you. I-is there a problem with that?”

“N-no, it's not like that! Just surprised, that's all…” you rubbed the back of your head. not that you hate it, just surprised. you can imagine jade as a waifu material. it might be pretty. now that you think about it, you can imagine what the future might be like when he becomes your stay-at-home wife. so perhaps you could make that promise. jade stared at you worried, “[Y]...? Are you alright?”

you clasped his hands into yours, catching him a little by surprise, “Jade. Let's make a promise.”

“A promise…?” jade tilted his head.

“A promise that we will get married when we get older. I never realized that [Y] would be so bold~” jade smiled bashfully, clasping his hand on his cheeks. grim doesn't know if he could be scared or not. having one of the leech monsters in the dorm will give him nightmares. “I have dinner served for the both of you. Mushroom stew~”

“Boy, he sure loves mushrooms…” you and grim thoughts. jade continued, “I have done your laundry, made your bed, vacuumed the lounge and cleaned your room.”

“Ah. Thanks for that.” you chuckled as you and grim about to head to the lounge, but jade pressed his hand on your chest, stopping you from leaving. “Dear, have you forgotten about something.”

“What is it?” you questioned. jade pointed to his cheek, “A husband always kisses his wife on the cheek after work.”

“This is getting uncomfortably weird…” grim sweatdropped, jumping off your shoulder. you become flustered by the idea before giving your lover a soft peck on his cheek, “There…”

jade chuckled excitedly after a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you~ Let's have dinner, shall we?”

“Geez, you need to stop teasing your husband…” you smiled.

rules

twst masterlist

╰┈➤ author note: please note that this is a slow update. i will still accept your request, but it will take a while since i'll be working on my books on wattpad. if you wish to read those books, here's my wattpad account.

#male reader #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x male reader #twst jade #jade leech #octavinelle #dilvuc #❝dilvuc 2024❞

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ghulehunknown · 5 months

Text

Mistletoe’d: Papa Emeritus III x F Reader

“Papa’s going to be coming down your chimney tonight.”

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 (coming soon!)

**WARNING - NSFW CONTENT - MDNI**

Summary: After the Ministry Christmas party, you join Terzo in his bedchamber for some festive activities.

CW/Tags: characters drinking alcohol, established relationship, clothed female nude male, blowjob, penetrative sex (P in V), condom use, cunnilingus, face-sitting, face fucking

Word Count: 4381

Available on AO3! Primo | Secondo | Terzo | Copia

Author’s Note: This is the third day of the four-part series XXXmas at the Ministry, a collaboration with @copias-sewer-rat, @molly-ghuleh, and @bupia - please read their works too!

Happy Hornidays! ❄️

xoxo, the Naughty Ghulehs 💋

Primo | Secondo | Copia

A HUGE thank you to AlexandrMcQueer on Twitter for the accompanying artwork! Check out the full NSFW version on her account.

Tonight was finally the night of the annual Ministry Christmas party, and Christmas Eve. Papa needed your help to pull everything off, so all week you were scheduling with the bakers, the cooks, the cleaning crew, and decorating.

But after this evening, you could relax. Well, aside from tending to Papa’s needs and making sure the ghouls didn’t get too soused that it ruined their unholiday in the morning. But after the party, you could enjoy the festivities.

Everyone began milling about and socializing in the main hall, picking at the large charcuterie spread and ladling punch or eggnog into glasses. It looked like everyone from the Clergy was there. Even Imperator and Nihil showed up, though they did not seem too sociable, seating themselves at a table in the corner. Primo immediately sat himself in one of the few chairs scattered around the hall with a large mug of something warm.

Suddenly the ghouls began whooping and you turned your head to see Terzo enter in a lavish looking Santa suit - it was made of crushed red velour with flecks of red sparkles and appeared to be trimmed with white feathers.

“Nice suit, Terzo,” you quipped, eyeing him up and down as he approached you.

“That’s Papa Claus to you, principessa,” he said with a snarky grin and giving you a smooch on the lips. “And you’re Santa’s little helper.”

That you were. He’d ordered you the shortest green elf dress, although the skirt was more like a tulle tutu. The outfit was a whole ensemble, complete with an elf hat with ears, pointy shoes with bells on the end, and candy cane patterned tights. You felt ridiculous, but ’tis the season.

Everyone was in their best holiday attire - anything from ugly Christmas sweaters to formal wear. The ghouls were all dressed in elf costumes, with the exception of Dew, who was dressed as Rudolph - an antler headband fitted over his mask and a red nose strapped to the front of his mask.

Cardinal Copia was wearing an old Saint Nick red and gold cloak over his red cassock, and a poorly made attachable white beard. Secondo was dressed in an all black 3 piece suit that had a subtle fleur de lis pattern, and was chatting with one of Primo’s ghouls.

The night went on, and you were actually managing to have fun. The ghouls turned one of the snack tables into a flip cup station (much to your dismay as you shuffled the catering staff carrying fresh trays of food back into the kitchen) and several of the Siblings started Christmas karaoke, with a very drunk-looking Copia taking the lead.

Terzo flitted between you and the rest of the guests, chatting with various Clergy members (and skillfully dodging Imperator each time). He snuck up behind you, squeezing your ass.

“Make sure these old fucks are having fun, eh?” he said lowly in your ear, nodding backwards to the senior members of the Clergy.

“And just how am I supposed to do that?” you said, one eyebrow raised, his hand still under your skirt.

He winked at you, handing you a bottle of opened bourbon before cupping your ass cheek in his hand and rubbing it. “We’ll cheers soon, then I can have you all to myself.” He leaned in closer to whisper in your ear. “Papa’s going to be coming down your chimney tonight.”

He clapped you on the ass then darted between people again. “Everybody - eggnog!” he shouted towards the crowd, raising his arms up. He was herding everyone to the center. You thought you might die on the spot from your cheeks burning red, but everyone was paying attention to him - thank Satan.

As everyone poured themselves another glass and gathered, you went around and splashed a bit of bourbon in everyone’s cup.

“Some bourbon for your eggnog, Cardinal?” you asked Copia, approaching him with the bottle.

“Eh, none for me,” he said, hiccuping and covering his glass. “It’s strong enough as it is! I’ve had th-three already.”

“It’s nonalcoholic, Cardinal,” you responded, blinking at him. He looked puzzled and walked away.

You made your way over to Primo who was almost snoozing in his chair. “Papa Primo?” you asked, holding the bottle out, gesturing towards his half empty mug. You weren’t sure if he was dressed like Scrooge on purpose or if those were just his pajamas but he mumbled something that sounded like “Bah,” and shook his head swiftly, the tassel at the end of his nightcap swinging around.

Everyone was standing in a semicircle around Terzo, who for once seemed just slightly lost for words. “Well, uh - shit,” he began, eliciting a few chuckles from the crowd. “I do not know what else to say, other than it’s been a fucking great year. We had two fantastic tours, and we’ll be continuing into next year… I, eh - met someone very dear.” He glanced at you briefly before continuing. “We won a motherfucking Grammy…!”

The ghouls whooped and cheered while the Siblings and other Clergy members clapped. You glanced over in the corner. Even Imperator seemed pleased - maybe.

“Sì, sì it has been phenomenal. You should all be very pleased with yourselves. So pleased in fact I think you should all celebrate, in eh, whatever means you choose to do. And if I do not see you all before the New Year, have an unblessed holiday. Now, we toast! Tomorrow morning we will celebrate our Savior’s birth. But for tonight, we sin.” He held up his glass and the others did the same. “To Lucifer!”

“To Lucifer,” you said, chiming in with a chorus of voices. You swallowed your bourbon-eggnog concoction - mostly bourbon by your heavy hand, you found as you winced slightly, the liquor burning down your throat. You didn’t drink much and this was your first holiday gathering at the Ministry. Next month would mark your first full year here, and the first time you laid eyes upon him - your Terzo.

“Eh, see you next year, Papa!” piped up Copia, still hiccuping as he nodded and ducked out of the crowd. You smiled at the Cardinal’s little joke. Terzo stopped in his tracks for just a moment and acknowledged Copia before walking away.

He rolled his eyes as he walked towards you then his face brightened. “Hello,” he said, standing very close to you.

“Hi, Papa,” you said, smiling at him and holding up the last bit of bourbon, swishing it in the bottle. “Saved the last for you.”

“Mmm,” he said, leaning in to kiss you. “How much? I need to keep my stamina for later.”

You took a swig and shuddered - Satanas, you still couldn’t drink straight liquor. “Not much now.” He chuckled at you and took the bottle from your hand, knocking back the rest. You coughed a couple of times and reached for some party punch, completely forgetting the one you reached for also had alcohol and coughed again.

He patted you soothingly on the back and asked, “Are you okay, tesorina?”

You nodded, finally grabbing the nonalcoholic punch and chugging some.

“Will Papa have to take care of his little elf this evening?” he said, trailing the back of his index finger over your cheek.

“No, Papa,” you said, clearing your throat. “I’ve barely had anything.”

“Good. I have a surprise for you tonight, amore.”

“Hm. Any hint?” you asked coyly.

“Not a fucking clue. Come to my room in five minutes just as you are.” He picked up a handful of hard candies from the snack table and popped a few in his mouth, staring at you while walking backwards a few paces before turning around and heading down the hall.

You continued to mingle with the other Siblings, trying hard to conceal your blushing cheeks but to no avail.

“Someone’s excited about something,” one said.

“It’s nothing,” you murmured.

“Come on - spill!”

“Well, Terzo and I -”

“Terzo?” said another.

“Oooooh!” the others said in a singsong tone almost in unison.

“He said he has a surprise for me, in his room.”

“So you graduated from office visits to home visits now?” asked the first Sibling, looking impressed.

“Well…I’ve seen his bedroom a few times,” you said, not willing to divulge the full truth just yet. You’d been spending most of your nights in his room and sneaking back into the Siblings’ quarters early in the morning. Even though each Sibling had their own room, you knew your Sisters would hear the door to the suite open.

“I think this is the most serious he’s been with anyone,” said the second Sibling. “I’ve been here a few years and usually he’s done with his fling after two months. But you’ve stuck around.” You shook your head, not willing to believe this hype only to be let down. You just wanted to live in the moment and enjoy what you had with Terzo. “You should go - you don’t want to keep him waiting.”

You smiled and bid your fellow Siblings goodbye as they all made lewd gestures to imitate various sex acts and waved you off, wishing you luck.

You walked down the silent and dark corridors, passing ghouls and Siblings alike shrouded in the shadows to have their midnight dalliances, no doubt egged on by the holiday cheer and the alcohol. You smiled, thinking about not having to hide in a hallway like when you first started dating him. Now you had his entire bedroom to have your sultry romps.

You opened his door and walked into his Papal suite, the familiar lush decor and smell of mahogany filling your senses. You passed by the small and elegantly decorated Christmas tree by the fireplace. You wondered just what his surprise might be when you saw him propped up against the wall, a rose in his mouth and —

What was that?

He was dressed in his Santa jacket and hat, with nothing else on - save one thing. Your eyes trailed along his upper body then snapped to what was in between his legs. On the end of his throbbing hard cock was some mistletoe, tied around his shaft by a red ribbon and a little gold bell below it. He waggled his eyebrows and at the same time isolated his pelvic muscles to make his cock bob up and down, tinkling the bell.

“How long have you just been standing there all hard waiting for me?”

His face fell momentarily and he took the rose out of his mouth. “I thought you would like it.”

“I do!” you said, suppressing laughter as best as you could while stepping towards him. You held onto the lapels of his jacket and leaned in. “I do.” He smiled again, a smug look of satisfaction washing over him.

“Good,” he said, handing you the rose. “Because you’re going to get stuffed and glazed just like Secondo’s honey ham.”

You bit your bottom lip, smiling. “But I don’t think it’ll be quite as delicious as you, amore.”

“It should be. I’ve been eating a lot of pineapple for this.”

“Really? Then I’ll have to taste it for myself,” you said, feeling the heat pool at your core.

He cupped your face in his hands, kissing you deeply, slipping his tongue in. You weren’t sure where to place your hands so you held onto the rose with one hand, the other in his hair. He swiftly brought you closer to him, his quivering cock poking at your thigh under your tulle skirt.

“Mm!” you said, surprised at feeling his hardness brush against you.

“Well,” he said, pulling away to look at you. “It’s not going to kiss itself, tesoro.” He twitched his cock again, making it bob up and down and wagged his hips side to side, making it shake the other direction and sounding the bell.

You eyed him slyly as you bent down, gently falling to your knees before him and placing the rose on the floor. You took his cock in your hand and began stroking his length, eyeing the perfect pink tip at the end. Each time you stroked him, the bell would chime.

“Oh cazzo,” he sighed, leaning his head back, his lips parted.

You flicked the tip of your tongue against the head of his cock and watched his abdominal muscles contract. He was like putty in your hands.

“You like that, amore?” you asked teasingly, his shaft in your palm.

He glared at you from the corner of his eye. “Stai zitto,” he said through moans as you continued to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock. But you could swear you saw a smirk pull at the corner of his mouth as he said this.

You closed your eyes as you took his entire length in your mouth, sliding him in and out and clutching onto his hips. The little leaves on the mistletoe tickled your nose each time the bottom of his cock reached your lips.

Clink! Clink! went the bell each time you slid him in and out of your mouth.

He started to whimper and moan quietly, his eyes closed in pleasure. His hand was on the back of your head, gripping your hair tighter the faster you went. At one point he began thrusting into your mouth, probably no longer able to contain himself.

Clink! Clink! ClinkClinkClinkClinkCLINKCLINK

“Mmm!” you mumbled around his cock as the greenery around his member assaulted your face over and over, scratching your nose and cheeks a little bit each time. CLINK.

Your eyes welled with tears as he hit the back of your throat repeatedly. CLINK. At this point you were hardly doing any work, just kneeling there and being used as a vessel. CLINKCLINK

“Satanas you’re going to make me cum like that,” he panted as he continued pushing his hips into your face.

You smiled around him - well as best as you could - and brought him closer by gripping his ass cheeks.

“Ah - cazzo!” he exclaimed, suddenly pulling out of your mouth and panting.

“Terzo?” you asked, trying to look up but you were unable to as his hand remained on your head as he used you to prop himself up and regain composure.

“I can’t cum too soon and ruin the evening, no?” he said, standing up straight and helping you up off the floor. “Not when I haven’t even taken care of you.”

You kissed his laughter lines around his mouth as he spoke, his Papal makeup smudged from your kisses earlier. “You always take such good care of me.”

He turned to face you and held you in an embrace, kissing you passionately again, his hands roaming all over your body. He began to massage your breasts through your costume, building the arousal between your legs even more. Your breathing quickened as you both moaned into each other’s mouths.

“Fuck this fucking blouse,” he said breathlessly, breaking away and tearing at the front of your green cardigan, the buttons flying across his floor - eliciting a ‘Shit!’ from you. “Mmm!” he mumbled, kissing you again, pawing at your chest.

He fumbled around your back at your bra clasp, unhooking it after a couple of tries. You urgently slid the straps off your shoulders and tossed the bra to the floor. He bent down to take your nipple in his mouth, circling his tongue around it and sucking. He alternated, pinching the other one between his fingers.

“Oh Terzo,” you sighed, running your hands through his hair, fiddling with the silver strands peppering his raven hair. He’d never admit to it, but you saw the box dye left on his bathroom counter.

Instinctively you squeezed your legs together, alleviating some of the need to touch yourself. You felt your heart race and a shiver run down your spine.

“Fuck me, please Papa,” you sighed, breath trembling.

“Mm?” he said, glancing up at you between your breasts with a glint in his eyes. He kissed all over your chest, up your neck and finally, your lips. “Is la mia principessa ready for her Papa to fuck her brains out, hm?”

“Yes Papa, please,” you said, still in a breathy whisper. “Fuck me.”

He nodded his head towards the bathroom and glanced over. “Go get a condom and meet me in bed. I’ll get the lube.”

“Why are there none in our nightstand drawer?”

“‘Our?’”

“Shit. You know what I meant.”

He grinned. “Ti stai dimenticando? We used them all last night and I didn’t have time to take some more out.”

Slightly embarrassed at your gaffe, you made your way into the bathroom and started opening drawers. “Where did you put the box?”

“Bottom drawer!” he called out.

Did he think differently of you now? Would he think you were too presumptuous and want to call the whole thing off? Or potentially, were you just overthinking things as usual? “Found it! Oh fuck, shit!”

“Sorella?” He sounded concerned and rushed over to find you on your hands and knees kneeling near the toilet.

“Almost got it!” You had dropped the roll of condom wrappers behind the toilet and had wedged yourself between it and the vanity. “Help me, Terzo!”

“Ah, I see now,” he said slyly. “Call for me in a panic just so you can entrap me.”

“What? Terzo, no, I really do need help, I drop- ”

“Sì, I can help,” he said, kneeling down behind you, his cock right up against your ass.

“It’s just, argh!”

“Argh!” he imitated you, running his hands all along your body.

“It’s right there I can’t - reach - !”

“Has anyone told you how sexy you look with your ass in the air in candy cane tights?”

You rolled your eyes but you knew he couldn’t see. “Er, no - um, thank you. But I dropped the condoms behind the toilet.”

He craned his neck to see. “Ah. This is quite the pickle we are in. You with your hand behind the toilet and your ass against my cock.”

“No, I believe it’s your cock against my ass.”

“What am I to do, tesorina? What should a Papa do when finding his lover in a compromising position, hm?” He leaned down and trailed kisses along your back, momentarily freezing your arm from the continued search of the condoms.

“Fuck…” you whispered, feeling his mouth move further south and his hands finding their way around your waist.

“What’s that, bella? You think Papa should fuck you? You called me in such a panic earlier that I did not bring the lube…mmm, what should we do?” he said, kissing you just above your ass. “Is la mia principessa ready?”

Your body ached with desire. You needed him inside you. He trailed his finger along your tights-covered behind, poking around where your entrance was. “Darling, I think your tights are just a little wet. Let’s see just how wet you are inside.” He gripped the fabric and you heard it ripping apart.

You let out a surprised gasp as the chill air hit your warm, now exposed nether regions. He entered you with a finger and your body shuddered against him as you whimpered quietly.

“Oh yes,” he said in an amused tone. “You are very ready.” He slid out and up to your clit, playing with it gently as you moaned and rocked your body back and forth to feel the friction against his fingers. “So responsive. Una così brava ragazza.”

“Please, Papa,” you said under your accelerated breath. “Please fuck me.”

“Don’t worry amore,” he said, reaching over you and grabbing the sleeve of condoms that you were having trouble getting just moments before. “I will.” He tore off one and ripped it open.

You readjusted yourself on the tile floor so you wouldn’t bang your head against the toilet or the side of the vanity as you heard the crinkle of the wrapper and the clinking of the little bell still attached to his dick.

“Oh FUCK!” you both said in unison as he entered you. He slammed into your dripping cunt with such ease, you felt him bottom out immediately. The tingle of the mistletoe against your clit heightened the sensation.

Clink! Clink! Clink! Clink! In and out, in and out. You both moaned each other’s names in pure, unadulterated passion.

“Ah - merda Sorella, you turn me into a teenager again. Fucking on the floor out of sheer desperation for one another.” Now he was so deep inside you the bell muffled against your body. CLUNK. CLUNK. CLUNK.

“So - mmm! - you’re d-desperate for me?” you said teasingly against the cold tile.

“La mia diavoletta pensa di essere così intelligente, eh? È ora che chiudi la bocca.” With that he fucked into you so hard, so fast, you couldn’t say another word. He pushed your head against the floor roughly, your cheek pressed against the cool marble so hard you could feel the grout indent. He nearly knocked the breath out of you as he hit your g-spot perfectly each time, a relentless grip on the back of your head.

“Ohhh - !” you moaned as he rammed into you over and over. CLUNKCLUNKCLUNKCLUNK. He was thrusting faster, riding out his orgasm, his nails digging deeper into your hips.

“Fuck - I’m going to - cum - Sorella - !” He pounded into you, tapering off his speed as he came, his cock twitching a final time before he slumped over your back, breathing heavily.

“Satanas,” he breathed, his chest heaving wildly as he pulled out, your body shuddering under him at the loss. You heard the snap of latex and the condom hitting the trash can liner.

You turned around and sat down, leaning against the toilet. You watched him untie the mistletoe and take it off, tossing it aside. “So how was it, with that?” you asked, nodding towards the discarded plant.

“Honestly? It was a little itchy. It might just be a novelty.” He tossed himself on his back against the floor. He looked at you, his chest still rising and falling from being out of breath. “How was it for you?”

“Honestly? It was a little itchy,” you repeated. You both smiled and laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

“Come here Sorella, I did not intend to leave you wanting. Hop onto Santa’s lap.”

You crawled over to him and straddled his lap, gazing into his eyes.

“What do you want this year for being such a good little girl?” He asked, caressing your arms and looking at your breasts before flicking his eyes up into yours.

“I want…endless kisses…and a mind-blowing orgasm,” you said, leaning down to kiss him.

He returned the smooch. “Mm, I did not know a present for you would also be a present for me. Come closer and sit on Santa’s face…that’s it, Satanas yes please.”

You moved up his body until you were straddling his face, then delicately lowered your body on him, doing your best to move your skirt out of the way.

He sputtered, spitting out the tulle from his mouth and pulling your hips towards his face again. He batted at the layers of fabric, cursing in Italian, before finding your cunt.

Your eyelids flitted closed as your lips parted in a silent “oh.” He took your clit in his mouth and sucked on it between his lips. He alternated between that and flicking your sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue. You looked down to gaze in his eyes but his face was completely hidden under a green tutu.

You began to buck your hips against his face as he used the flat of his tongue, building up the friction and feeling yourself closing in on orgasm. He switched up and deepened the suction on your clit, flicking his tongue against you simultaneously.

“Oh fuck Terzo - fuck, I’m so close!” You rocked back and forth as you pinched your nipples, heightening the sensation.

His fingernails dug into your hips again as he sped up his ministrations. Grabbing ahold of your waist, he slid you along his mouth faster and faster.

“Oh, Terzo!” you cried out in ecstasy, trembling on your knees above him as you came hard and fast in his mouth. He didn’t let up the motions or the intensity until you pulled away, giggling from the overstimulation. You climbed off of him and sat down next to him, both smiling at one another.

“How are you feeling? Good?” he asked, stroking your thigh.

You nodded your head. “Yes, very. But can I lay down next time? I’ve been on my knees an awful long time.” You both laughed.

“There’s Papa’s little hoe hoe hoe,” he said with a devilish grin. “Of course, amore mio. Anything for you.”

You held onto his hand, playfully caressing all his fingers. “It’s been a very good Christmas so far,” you remarked.

“Mmm. And you haven’t even opened your presents yet.”

“There’s more?”

“What, you thought this was it? No Sorella, go look under the tree.”

You eyed him suspiciously as you stood up, legs still a little shaky. You walked out of the bathroom and into the living room.

You hadn’t noticed the presents under the tree earlier, but there were a few. A lot, actually. Somehow even your gifts for him were under there. One of the ghouls or housekeeping staff must have moved them for you.

One caught your attention - a gold envelope poking out from the middle branches of the tree. You reached inside the tree, accidentally sending the package spilling onto the floor. Two plane tickets splayed out on the floor.

You picked them up in wonder - your name was at the top of one, and his on the other. You walked in a daze over to him.

“You did not truly think I would leave you with just my cock for Christmas, did you?” he said, following you out of the bathroom and now leaning against the wall. “I love you, principessa. I call you princess because to me you are. My sweet little thing. I want to give you the world, my world…would Italy be a good start?”

You flung your arms around him, tears in your eyes. “Yes, Terzo. I think that will be an amazing start.”

[Stay tuned for a continuation of this story!]

Italian to English Translations

(la mia) principessa ((my) princess)

tesorina (little treasure/darling)

amore (mio) ((my) love)

cazzo (fuck)

Stai zitto (Shut up)

Ti stai dimenticando? (Are you forgetting?)

Sorella (Sister/nun)

bella (beautiful)

Una così brava ragazza. (Such a good girl.)

merda (shit)

La mia diavoletta pensa di essere così intelligente, eh? È ora che chiudi la bocca. (My little devil girl thinks she’s so smart, eh? It’s time you shut your mouth.)

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my future works!

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rotten1angel · 4 months

Text

war is over / r. black

regulus black x fem!muggleborn!reader

word count — 0.6k

summary: regulus and you escape grimmauld place to the potters

authors note & warnings: walburga and orion, from my old account, so the writings a bit eh

—

you knew it was a bad idea staying at the black house for winter break.

walburga and orion weren’t supposed to come home–but of course they had to come back from france a week early.

you hid in regulus’s wardrobe as you heard screaming downstairs — mostly from walburga and regulus. you clutched your knees to your chest as your hands covered your ears. tears streamed down your cheeks as you heard spells being cast. you heard pounding footsteps as regulus burst into the room and ripped open the wardrobe doors.

“reg–” you sobbed.

“come on.” regulus grabbed one of your hands and pulled you up and out of the wardrobe. holding on tight to your hand you felt him and yourself apparate.

you tried to piece together where he was going but you couldn’t–all you could do was hang onto him.

you had stopped moving — you and regulus stood in front of a warm, lit-up house.

“regulus..?” he ignored you as he — still holding your hand — walked up to the door and knocked. you two stood in silence as you heard a warm, motherly voice yell ‘coming!’

it was around 9 at night — freezing cold, and once the door opened you felt a fire’s warmth bleeding out into the frozen air.

“hello dears — i’m so sorry, who— who are you?” no malice was behind the voice, only concern as to why two teenagers were standing outside this woman's doorstep.

“regulus black, ma’am, and this is (y/n).” regulus’s voice cracked slightly as he looked at the woman. “ah.. yes darling — please, both of you, come in.”

you two had been seated on a red couch by the fire — hot cocoa in both of your hands. regulus had explained that they were at the potters to you — where sirius had stayed for the past few years.

“what are you doing here, sweetheart?” mrs. potter had asked regulus has she sat down in a chair across from him.

“my parents — they found out (y/n) was a muggleborn and threatened to kill her..” regulus told the woman–not looking at you–as if he was ashamed and it was his fault.

you wrapped your hand around his and leaned your face into the crevice of his neck.

“well.. you can stay as long as you need, love —we’ll need to get a room prepared, i’ll go up and do that now.” the woman smiled at the two of you and left the room.

you kissed regulus’s neck–knowing it calmed him. he turned his head and kissed the crown of your head.

you heard stumbling coming from the stairs and then you felt regulus’s body tighten — you peered up to see sirius and james staring at you two — mouths gaping.

“sirius— i—“

“what did they do to you?” anger and concern filled sirius’s voice. sirius walked over to the two of you and crouched down— hugging regulus’s shoulders, one hand cradling his head.

you had backed away from regulus and looked over to james — who gave a small, awkward wave which you returned.

euphemia came back downstairs–smiling at the two brothers. she went over — rubbing sirius’s back.

“alright, sirius, im sure regulus and (y/n) are exhausted. i’ve set up a room for the two of you — james can show you, it's just the spare bedroom down the hall from yours, james.”

james nodded — sirius let go of his brother and the three of you got up and followed james. you hung on to regulus’s arm as he followed the two older boys.

once you got to the room james stopped and turned. regulus nodded in thanks and went in, shutting the door behind you two.

once he did he turned to face you. he held your head in his hands and kissed your forehead.

“i’m sorry, my love, we shouldn’t have gone to my house for break — i should have listened to you.” his voice broke as one of your hands went over his.

“reg.. its alright.” you kissed his cheek and he sighed. you two changed into some pajamas euphemia had put out on the dresser and got into the warm bed. the two of you tangled in each other.

—

taglist — @wildieflower @diqldrunk @masivechaos @imabee-oralizard @garfieldsladybird

#regulus black #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black x female reader #regulus black x fem!reader

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angels-fantasy · 7 days

Text

Top Secret Fiction Ch. 4

Farmers Market

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Description: After meeting the one and only pro hero Dynamight on a dating app, you two begin to see each other. Because of the dangers that come with his hero work, you both promise to be completely honest with each other from the beginning; though you can't help but keep one big secret from him.

You write fan fiction, mostly about him.

Chapter Details: nothing crazy. another date, katsuki being sweet, reader uses their quirk

Word Count: 1.4k

previous chapter

It's been about two weeks since you went on your date with Bakugou and you haven't seen him since, unfortunately. But it was for good reason - his hero work.

Going into this, you knew he'd be extremely busy, but you didn't think he'd be this busy. But you could understand it. Though something you did appreciate was the fact that he did make time to talk to you on the phone and would let you know when he'd have to go hours without talking.

In these past two weeks you also thought about his serious talk with you, about honesty.

Guilt ate away at you every time you started writing or even thought about it, which made it harder to stay active on your writing account.

Your secret really wasn't that big of a deal, but it was still a secret. Fan fiction was also something that had a bad reputation among people who didn't read it, so who knows how Bakugou felt about it.

Your phone ringing broke you out of your thoughts.

Looking at the caller ID, you saw that it was Bakugou. Smiling, you answered it and said "Hi Bakugou!"

"Hey, you busy right now?" He asked.

You looked around your room, as if that'd give you an answer. "Uh no, why?"

"Good. Can you be ready in like - thirty minutes? I'm free for the rest of the day and I wanna hangout now that I actually have time."

How sweet.

"Yeah I'll be ready by then. Are we meeting somewhere?"

"No, I'm picking you up."

"'Kay, see you then. Bye!"

"Bye."

Hanging up, you squealed into your pillow and then looked at the time. It was only 3:00 pm, so you'd have to be ready by 3:30.

As you rushed to get ready you wondered where Bakugou was taking you. He didn't say you had to dress a certain way, so you went for a casual and comfortable outfit.

He didn't seem like the type to take you somewhere extravagant randomly, so you were sure it'd be somewhere that was pretty relaxed.

After getting ready you noticed you had a few minutes left to spare so you decided to go check on the plants you had around your home.

You had about three plants in your home, all of them ranging from different sizes and types. You didn't have many plants in your home because you already had many at your work place.

You attended to each of your plants needs after they had told you what it is they wanted. One wanted more sunlight, the other was thirsty, and one was just fine.

You looked at your phone to check if Bakugou had texted you, and luckily he did. He had sent a text saying he was outside waiting for you.

You smiled and slipped your shoes on, saying bye to Cheerios and your plants like you always did.

Sliding into the passenger seat you said, "Hey stranger. How've you been?"

He smiled lightly, "Sorry I haven't been able to see you. Work keeps me busy but I'm good, you?"

"I get it. I've been good too though. Has anything interesting happened at work?"

Bakugou brought a hand up to his jaw and stroked it while he thought. "Eh, nothing major. I did stop a bank robbery with Red Riot a few days ago though."

You gasped and turned to him, "A whole bank robbery? I feel like that's such a stereotypical situation... you know? Like, you just see it in movies all the time."

"I know, which is why people usually don't attempt to rob a whole bank" He laughed, "But clearly these guys were idiots."

You laughed at that. "I can't even imagine trying to rob a bank. I mean - where would you even start?

The two of you continued to talk on the way to your destination, which he actually told you about this time. He said that there was a farmers market happening nearby and he actually went there pretty often, so he thought he should invite you along with him which you thought was sweet.

When you arrived it was just as you expected and it seemed to be quite busy.

"Wow I can't believe I've never been here before! The decorations are so cute." You said in awe, once you both started walking around.

"You wanna go get food? There's this old dude that sells the best takoyaki at his stand." Bakugou said as you two walked through the crowd.

You nodded, "Yeah I'm down. Takoyaki sounds really good right now - oh and after can we stop at that stand?" You asked, pointing to a stand that was selling crocheted stuffed animals.

He nodded and then held out a hand, "So you don't get lost in the crowd."

Yeah right.

You smiled and grabbed his hand, letting him lead the way to the takoyaki stand. Once you got there you met the old man he mentioned and talked to him for a bit. You found out that he made the takoyaki himself and he'd been doing it for over thirty years!

When it came to paying, Bakugou kept insisting that he would pay for your food but you stood your ground and told him you were just fine paying for your own.

He grumbled about it for a while after but eventually got over it. You two then went over to the stand you mentioned earlier, and looked at the stuffed animals for sale.

"They're so cute! I think I'm gonna buy one." You said to Bakugou.

He hummed, "You should get that one." and pointed to a white jumbo bunny wearing pink overalls.

"You're so right." You said and placed your food down so you could grab the bunny and check for a price tag.

Your eyes widened at the price.

"This thing is sixty bucks!" You whispered to him.

"What? Lemme see." He said and grabbed the bunny from you to look at the tag. His eyebrows raised a bit at the price. "Tsk, I can make this shit myself."

"You crochet?" You asked.

"Sometimes..." He said and looked away.

You laughed and then grabbed the bunny back from him. "Well, I guess it's goodbye bunny. You're just too expensive." You said and sadly put the bunny back where it once was, making sure to grab your takoyaki.

"Wanna go sit under that tree?" You asked and pointed to a large tree with a bench underneath it.

Bakugou nodded and you began making your way over to the bench.

Once you got there you both continued to eat your food in a comfortable silence. Looking up at the tree, you used your quirk and listened.

"This tree has seen a lot of things." You smiled.

"Whaddya mean?" He asked around his food.

"My quirk. I just used it and listened to the tree. She said she's seen a lot of interesting things in this spot, good and bad." You said and listened some more, "Proposals are the most common."

Bakugou smiled, "The tree really said all that?"

"Yeah! Trees have such interesting stories because they've been around so long." You said excitedly.

He looked up at the tree, "I guess I never thought about it like that."

After some more talking and eating, Bakugou offered to throw away your trash for you, which you accepted. He told you to wait at the bench for him, so you did.

It was taking him a bit longer than you thought it would so you began to worry a bit. As you were biting your lip in thought, a touch on your shoulder made you jump.

"Didn't mean to scare ya."

You placed a hand on your chest, "Jeez! You walk so quietly I didn't hear anything."

Bakugou smirked, "Here, I got you something."

He handed you a large, brown paper bag and watched as you looked inside.

"The bunny!" You gasped and pulled it out of the bag. "But it was so expensive, why did you buy this?!"

He shrugged, "You wanted it, and I guess it's okay to look at."

You looked at the bunny intensely and rubbed its head.

"It's so cute... Thank you so much." You said.

"It's not problem, just make sure to name it after me." He joked.

You clicked your tongue and smacked him with the bunny.

...

You guys had ended up spending the rest of the day together, finally leaving the farmers market around 8:30 pm.

When Bakugou pulled up to your house, you hesitated before getting out.

"You good?" He asked.

"Yeah, um. Do you wanna come inside?" You asked quietly.

He smiled the widest you've ever seen him smile and said, "Yeah. Will your plants be okay with it?"

"Har har." You said while rolling your eyes and got out the car, leading him into your house.

authors note

sorry for the little cliff hanger :3

also, here's the bunny katsuki bought reader

taglist: @doumadono @54fangirl @andysdrafts @dagger-dragger @lovra974 @l4rsun1vrrse @emmab3mma @littlkittenfan @tatiquichi @cloudxluv @seonne @shonen-brainrot @the2ndl @gold24fish @cxp1d @rv19 @gina329

(those in pink couldn't be tagged)

#@angels-fantasy #fanfiction #fanfic #writers on tumblr #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia #bakugou x reader #topsecretfiction #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x you

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