#i think about my friends and how lonely i am even though i have them all the time

[rafaelsilvasource]

You and co-showrunner Tim Minear originally wanted Carlos (Rafael L. Silva) to become an APD detective, but you've now chosen to make him a Texas Ranger — which, it must be said, is an interesting choice, given that Carlos had been so insistent in the past on not wanting to follow in his father's footsteps. How would you respond to the criticism that being a Ranger goes against what Carlos initially set out to do?

Raisani: I think the Texas Rangers became an embodiment of Gabriel Reyes, Carlos' father. What I mean by that is … Carlos had grown up with a perception of his father, which is: "My dad is homophobic, or certainly uncomfortable with who I am. He made me feel shut out. He made me feel unloved, unvalued." Carlos' arc in Season 4 with his father was to realize, "My dad is a more complex and beautiful man than I realized, and even though it took him a minute to get there, he did get there, and we became ultimately best friends. I love and revere my father, and just in time for me to realize that, he gets killed and taken away."

I would encourage people to go back and look at that Texas Ranger episode [in Season 4] where Carlos talked about the massacre [where] the Rangers killed all those innocent people in the early 20th century. What [Carlos'] mother teaches him in that [episode] is, "Look, the Rangers, like any organization that's older than 20 years, have some blood on their hands, but they've also done a lot of good. And nobody represents the good that they have done like your father." She talks about how the diversity of the Rangers has increased, which is real. They went from being all-white to now 33% or 40% [people] of color and women. "Your father embodied that change, and now you can take that legacy and take it to the future."

To me, Carlos' arc was to realize Rangers are not just inherently evil. "Yes, they have a bad history, but just like my father who I had a bad history with, they're more complex than I was giving them credit for. And rather than just spit them out and reject them, I can be the change in that organization." So that's what Carlos is going to do, and that's the symbolic relationship that he has with the Rangers.

But in a purely plot relationship, there's no better way to solve [the mystery of] "Who killed my dad?" than to be inside that organization, because Carlos believes — and I think rightly so — that some of the cases that his father worked on may end up having something to say about who killed him. So that's what I would say to people who maybe have some doubts about that.

Carlos bumps heads with Ranger Sam Campbell (Parker Young) on a big case in the premiere, but they seem to have formed a new partnership by the end of the hour. How would you describe the evolution of their relationship this season?

Raisani: I feel like they're two brothers vying for daddy's love. The dad is the chief, the older brother is Campbell, and Carlos is this pipsqueak young brother who just got to the front of the line and now he's a Ranger. And in Campbell's mind, some of it is because, "OK, this is some nepo baby stuff. Your dad was a legend, and you just get to waltz to the front of the line." We built this little family of brothers and a father, so the first episode is really about Carlos and Campbell in a foot race with each other. And then what they realize by the end of [the premiere] is, "Boy, we're a lot more effective when we work together. And in fact, we make a pretty amazing partnership."

Moving forward into the season, we get to play just how complementary these two pieces are together. One of the things I personally love about the Rangers, which we can't do from simple 9-1-1 calls, is they can go into some much more complex, deeper investigations against much darker bad guys and much more real-world problems that are happening in Texas — cartels and with drug smuggling and stuff like that. So we'll do some cases that I think people can't believe are real. But we'd never had the opportunity [to do those stories in the past], because we didn't have that vehicle to get into these stories like we do now that Carlos is a Texas Ranger who gets to investigate the darkest, most dangerous crimes that are happening in Texas.

Carlos' investigation into Gabriel's death will certainly drive a wedge between him and T.K. (Ronen Rubinstein) this season. How has Carlos and T.K.'s relationship evolved now that they've been married for almost a year?

Raisani: What I wanted to show with their relationship this season is that people can love each other with everything they've got — and everybody has challenges in their relationship. To love someone completely doesn't mean you're not going to fight all the time, and yet you can use [that conflict] to make the relationship deeper and more meaningful. We didn't want it to be happily ever after. For me, in real life, the wedding is the beginning of the story — not the end — and there are so many more deeper stories you can tell once people have that level of commitment towards each other.

We really wanted to put some pressure on that relationship. For T.K. especially, it's like, "You love Carlos. You want him to get that closure, that peace, that can come from finding out his dad's killer." But also, T.K. is a former addict who knows he's seeing signs of addiction, and Carlos is addicted to this thing, and it's clouding over and suffocating other elements of their future together because Carlos is so focused on what happened in the past. T.K., because he loves Carlos, will be patient and graceful about it, but at some point, he's going to have to put his foot down — and it's going to be very uncomfortable when he does.

[naamahdarling]

.

[melto]

my birthday week is like a fight for my fucking life.

[cats-in-the-clouds]

it is unfortunate when i go to prayer and cry my eyes out and the only response i really hear is that i simply have to bear it. like usually i can get my emotions out and once they’re settled i hear a rational solution but it sucks when i don’t get the answer i want. i just have to keep waiting. like normally i hear something that gives me strength but wow apparently i’ve hit a new low

[mintjeru]

The symptoms you’re describing sounds a whole lot like burn out, which happens to the best of us when we push ourselves too long and hard past our limits. It definitely would seem easier to rely on external statistics (likes and reblogs/retweets) to determine the value of your work when you can’t see it yourself, but this is definitely something that can make you feel worse when the numbers don’t hit your expected target. Regardless of the size of your audience, it’s not unreasonable to want or desire for interaction and positive feedback for work you’ve put time and effort into producing, especially when you’ve done so with more limited resources (time/energy etc) than you had access to before. While it’s not a sure-fire way to cure burnout, taking a break and getting enough rest as well as allowing yourself some breathing space can help. Take care of yourself! Love your work—but don’t burn yourself down to the ground! There’s only one like and one reblog that I can give 😢 even if I want to give more…

hey anon! first, thank you for taking the time to write and send this in 🥺 second, it's a bit of a late reply bc i started crying while reading this for the first time and had to come back to it later ajdsdjfsjdf ;;;

you're probably right, i think it is burnout. i've been telling myself otherwise for months now bc i've been worried that the frequency of my posts has set myself up for others to expect something of me + not making art to share would be letting my followers down. but that's also locked me in a cycle of feeling guilty for either not drawing or making something that has no love behind it. logically, i know that taking a break would help, but i'm apparently not the best at allowing myself to take it easy 😅 still, i'll take your words to heart.

ty again for this, and i promise your one like and reblog is enough! i'm thankful that you leave notes on my posts and immensely grateful that you would even consider giving more <3

[125storejuice]

[fingertipsmp3]

Absolutely devastated to report that spending time with my friends and being outside has in fact made me feel better

[blujayonthewing]

IN MY FEELINGS. ABOUT AUBREE.

[jarofstyles]

Haze

Hi bestie babes, here is a best-friends-to-best-friends-with-benefits piece! I am unsure if I'm doing a second part but if I did it'll be later on down the line.

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WC- 8k

warnings- use of marijuana, friends with benefits, biting, daddy kink, soft Dom H hehe

“H? Do you really think I’m pretty?” Y/N’s voice was slightly slurred, a mix of both tired and high as a kite from the joint they’d finished just a bit ago. The cool air flowed in from the window they’d cracked in order for her landlord not to get a call to complain, but she welcomed the chill. She always got a bit hot in her skin when the high hit her. “Don’t lie to me. Give it to me straight.

She loved smoking, sure, but she hated how it made her mind think about things she had purposely been putting off. Like her awful fucking dating life and how stupidly lonely she was.

Harry sat next to her on the sofa, his legs spread in an obnoxious manspread, his fingers messing with the Rubik’s cube. It wasn’t uncommon for them to smoke together- he was her best friend- but she wanted his opinion. The poor man was going to be subject to her insecurity.

Her string of bad dating experiences lately had made it hard to believe it wasn’t a her problem.

"Pretty? Babe, you're beautiful. Come off it." he mumbled, eyes still on the puzzle game. He was in that fluid mindset, neither here nor there. His reassurance felt nice but at the same time, a little vague. Her face contorted in a frown as she looked over at him. He was still baked, so she got it, but still. A little more would be nice.

“You have to say that. You’re my best friend. Tell me honestly, H. What is.. what is wrong with me? Because I don’t know how someone can go on so many bad dates and it not be a them problem.” It had been plaguing her the whole time and harshing the high. The words needed to come out. “I’m the common denominator.”

Finally, he put the Rubik's cube down and turned to face her fully, his gaze locked on hers. Sure, he was dazed from the weed, but he wanted to be sincere with her once he had heard how she had actually been a bit torn up from it. As hard as she tried, it wasn’t easy for her to hide her emotions from him. Even high Harry could see past the playful quips she had made lately. It had only been a matter of time before she had asked him about it and in his opinion, it was bullshit. There was nothing wrong with her at all. Y/N was amazing, but it was only natural to become a little insecure when someone had the string of bad luck like she had.

"Y/N, there's absolutely nothing wrong with you. I'm being completely honest with you, I swear. It's not you, it's them.” He winced knowing how cheesy it sounded but it couldn’t really be helped at the moment. “You're a fuckin’ amazing, smart, beautiful, funny, talented, kind person... I could list off all your good qualities cause there’s loads of ‘em, but m’high and can't think straight enough right now t’give you the fancier words like… exuberant? Pretty sure that one’s right ."

Y/N let out a little laugh. She could hear it in the low tone of his voice and how it seemed to take him longer than normal to say things when he was stoned and trying his absolute hardest to get that out, but it was a little cute. Too bad it wasn’t enough to get her out of her wallowing.

“Then I’m doomed.” She groaned, sinking into the couch. Her hands came up to cover her face, a tired sound leaving her as she tried to reset. “Dude, do you know how entirely and overwhelmingly exhausting it is? And don’t you dare call me dramatic.” Her eye peeped up at him before she fell back into a huff. “I know you get sex on tap but for the rest of us normal folks, it’s like a war zone out there.”

Harry snickefed at her little quip as he watched her sink into the couch. Letting out a sigh as he really thought about it though, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. "I understand how you feel, trust me. It's not easy for anyone. Although I have to admit, I can't exactly relate to your dating struggles, not really. I just happen to be lucky enough to have a very dedicated fanbase."

He was joking but… not really. He always teased her about this. The women who tended to hang out around the garage or try to get near him after hours to ride him in the cars that he just fixed… It wasn't hard for him to get what he wanted. Being good looking, tattooed, solid and single, it got you a lot of places, and a lot of ass. If only she could relate.

“Yeah, yeah. Slut.” She grumbled lightheartedly, kicking her foot against his thigh. It wasn’t fair it was as toned as it was. “You’re a mechanic and you’ve got all the rich soccer moms throwing themselves at you for a romp in the backseat while their husbands are at work. That’s nice and all, but the dating pool for us commoners is abysmal at best.”

Shooting him a glare, she grabbed the bag of goldfish shaped crackers and popped some into her mouth. “At this point I’d be fine with a friends-with-benefits sorta thing- but god damn it, I just want someone to love me at some point.” There was a moment of silence before she cleared her throat. They didn’t really discuss their sex lives and stuff often so she took his silence as one of not knowing what to say- which was fair. She was sorta dumping this all on him. In the grand scheme of things it wasn’t that insane. Everyone went through shit like this. “Sorry. I don’t mean to actually be dramatic this time.”

Harry shook his head at her remark, giving her a reassuring smile that had his eyes crinkling at the corners. He locked his gaze on her face as he listened to her speak, his expression softening with understanding instead of the smug joking he was giving off before. "Hey, s’alright babe. You're not being dramatic. It's how you feel, and I understand that. Everyone deserves love, and I have no doubt you'll find it."

He paused for a moment, considering his next words carefully. When he spoke again, his voice low and sincere as he knocked his hand against her thigh to get her to look at him.

"Y/N... can I ask you somethin’? And don’t make it weird.” He warned, making her unsure what the hell he could be asking.

Brushing the hair out of her eyes, she turned to look back at him with a questioning look on her face. “Sure. What’s up?”

Harry seemed to hesitate for a moment, unsure whether he should ask or not. It would most definitely change their dynamic if she was offended or freaked out by it, but regardless he felt like it it was something he knew he had to ask. He shifted on the couch, turning to face her fully, taking a deep breath and letting his gaze lock on hers before speaking.

"Y’know how you were saying how you're open to a friends with benefits thing? And how you're tired of being alone?"

“Yeah…. I literally said it like, two second ago.” She replied, voice slow and drawn out. She knew she was foggy, but damn. Of course she didn’t want to draw conclusions but she had to wonder why he would be bringing that up again. Her heart beat a little harder as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Why?”

His gaze remained steady on hers, his expression unreadable. He took a moment before speaking again, his voice low and slightly hoarse. Of course he wanted to be careful with his words, in the off chance this could offend her but he knew that he’d kick himself for not asking if he avoided it. He took a deep breath before asking the question.

"I was wondering... if you'd be interested in having an arrangement like that... with me."

Blinking rapidly, she had to be sure she wasn’t just hearing things. Usually she wasn’t the type to have hallucinations when high, but she didn’t know if he would ever actually suggest that. “Uh.. can you repeat that?”

Harry smiled softly as he saw her surprise. He knew it was a big ask, but he was committed to the idea now.

Leaning forward, his voice was smooth and deliberate as he repeated his question, this time with more confidence considering she hadn’t completely looked disgusted at the idea.

"I was asking if you'd be interested in having a friend's with benefits arrangement with me. No strings attached, just a... way to fulfill certain needs without the commitment. What would you say to something like that?"

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said.” The nod was casual, as if that hadn’t just completely freaked her out. Not in a bad way! But in a…. What-the-fuck-my-best-friend-just-asked-me to-casually-hook-up-on-the-regular, sort of way.

“Uh… I’m not saying no, but I have to ask why you’d suggest that? I didn’t think you were attracted to me in the slightest.” It had completely come out of left field. The intent behind complaining wasn’t for him to offer but to get genuine advice from him considering he never seemed to struggle in the dating department.

"Who the hell said I wasn't attracted to you? I’ve always thought you were stunning.” It wasn’t supposed to come off defensively but he had to wonder in the moment if maybe it did. Harry had never once thought of her as anything but mind blowingly gorgeous.

“Okay, but you have to say that. You’re my best friend, like I said before. I just….” Hesitance grew on her face, looking over his own for any sign of joking. If he was, her ego really couldn’t handle another blow. “I really don’t want to be a pity fuck. And I also don’t want to like… no offense to you, I don’t want to sleep with someone who isn’t exclusive with me? Not like in the dating sense but like, I’d ask you not to sleep with anyone else for safety and I don’t know how you’d feel about that.” Maybe she was rambling but thoughts were running rampant in her already overcrowded brain. Asking him not to fuck anyone else felt like an overstep for some reason.

As she spoke, Harry nodded along, listening intently. He understood her hesitation and appreciated the honesty; it was one of the things he had always loved about her- But he certainly didn't want her to feel like a “pity-fuck” either. That was the furthest thing she could be. He could respect her wanting a certain degree of exclusivity, especially for safety. He knew he was a bit of a whore and he wasn’t ashamed of it, but he had full ability and sometimes the wish to be monogamous- more than he expressed. Granted, if it were anyone else he’d probably feel a little suffocated in an ask like that but… It didn’t sound so bad when it came to Y/N.

"I get it," he said, nodding in agreement. Reaching out and placing a hand on her knee, his touch warm and gentle, he tried his best to reassure her. "I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't find you attractive, Y/N. It's not about pity, it's about wanting a connection with someone I know and trust. And it’s not like it isn’t a convenience for me, too. No awkward leaving afterward, no like… ‘here I’ll get you a cab’ or saying no to a sleepover. We’ve slept in the same bed loads of times and you know I love a cuddle..”

Sharpening her gaze on him, she tilted her head. “Is this because you wanna do some crazy kinky stuff? Cause I’m open but I dunno how crazy I’ll get.” She was kind of kidding…. But kinda not. There were her own things she wanted to explore, but she didn’t want to be a lab rat.

Harry's eyebrows raised at her question, slightly taken aback. He couldn't help but laugh lightly at her tone, but there was also a hint of genuine interest in his reply.

"You really think I'm into kink, huh? Some sort of freak in the sheets?” Wiggling his brows, he teased her. It wasn’t as if it wasn’t obvious that he was a bit of a frequent fucker, but he didn’t have much shame in that. It wasn’t a kiss and tell sort of situation, but he wasn’t shy about letting her know he’d had a lovely night the day prior when need be. “Well, maybe. But no, that's not the only reason..." He let out a breath, a smirk on his lips. "But I'd loveeee to find out what you'd be open to, if we did this."

“Nope, you first, casanova.” She bounced in her seat, getting closer. Her nosy tendencies took precedence over everything else, it appeared. Getting to know more about him that was was enticing and she couldn’t hold herself back. “What's the crazy stuff you’re into? C’mon, we never talk about this stuff.”

Harry was open about the fact he had a healthy supply of offers and hookups but she had stopped him a few times from giving details. Mostly for her sake, so she didn’t see him as some sort of deviant- even if he was. Now, though, knowing she was potentially someone who could experience said things? Her curiosity was killing the cat. Her cat. Metaphorically speaking.

The man’s lips curled into a small smile as he saw her eager expression. He leaned back on the sofa, his arm stretched out behind her. He was throughly enjoying her nosiness- maybe for the first time- considering it gave him the perfect opportunity to tease her a bit more. "Oh, where do I even start... I have quite a few kinks, darling. But I have a feeling you'd like to hear about a certain one..."

“Okay… so tell me.” She rolled her hand to motion to him to continue. Patience really wasn’t Y/N’s strong suit and it was beginning to show, even if the smoking had initially relaxed her. “Let’s hear it. I want to know what I’d be getting myself into, besides greasy hands and the smell of motor oil.” Though she’d never admit how she’d learned to enjoy it, too.

He couldn’t lie and say he wasn't enjoying how intently she was looking at him, how her gaze was fixed on his every move. He leaned forward just a bit, his voice dropping lower as he continued* "Alright, y’wanted to know, you'll get to know like the princess y’are. But keep in mind, I've got a few of these, not just one." The taunting made her give him that impatient look he was used to, snickering under his breath as she bore her eyes into him.

“Okay. Lay them on me, tell me!” She huffed, knocking his knee. “You’re edging for no reason. I already know that one because you’re gross. Tell me the real stuff.”

Raising a brow at her eagerness, he leaned back again with his arm still draped behind her. He began speaking again, letting his voice drop a bit. "Alright, just a little tiny taste then… See if you can handle it. I've got a thing for power dynamics, darling. Particularly, I like to be in control."

“Mm… I could have guessed that. You’ve got the whole smolder thing, and you do the…” Y/N put her hand behind his neck before pulling it off. “Then you do the neck holding thing when we go out. You like to control where people go. Boss me around. So I had a clue. Give me one I wouldn’t expect.”

The perceptive observations hadn’t been something he expected, but it did amuse him. He reached up to brush a strand of her hair away from her face, his fingers lingering against her skin.

"You know me too well, little dove." He muttered, his eyes sparkling with mischief. This was a conversation he was enjoying. Not one he anticipated tonight, no, but one that had him on the edge of his metaphorical seat. His real seat was leaned against the back of the couch. "Okay then... how about this? I also enjoy a bit of exhibitionism. Kinky enough for you?"

“Oh?” She sat with it for a moment. “Actually… that makes sense too. You’re understated in public but you still get a lot of attention. Behind the scenes you’re an attention whore and stuff, which I know first hand but… yeah.” She huffed. “Damn. Can’t believe I didn’t guess that sorta stuff.” Another question popped into her mind. “Wait… what have you done with that? Are you talking like. Dressing rooms, cars? Or in front of people for real?”

Harry grinned as she continued to analyze his kinks, watching her as she went through it in her head. Had she thought about it before on her own? That wasn’t something he’d mind, in all honest. He chortled at her question and leaned back, his arm wrapped behind her. He didn't want to reveal too much but he was enjoying this back and forth. Maybe a tad bit more than he should be.

"You've got good instincts, darling. Yes, I enjoy exhibitionism. And yeah, both dressing rooms and cars are on the list. But not just that... I like a bit more of an audience sometimes. But that’s a different conversation. I can explain why I like it, though. Since you seem to be so curious.”

“Do tell.” Yes, maybe she was a little nosy but… it was slightly arousing. Harry was interesting to her before but now, with the idea of her being in those scenarios, she felt an elevated desperation to know.

Harry noticed how her eyes darkened with excitement as she listened to him and it made a feeling of satisfaction twist in his gut. Having an effect on her was something he hadn’t realized he’d enjoy so much, but now that he had a taste he wanted to see more of it. He shifted a bit closer, his voice dropping into a low whisper. "I like the thrill of being caught. The danger of it, y’know? I love that it’s risky, that your adrenaline pump and you’ve got t’be quiet. Or you don’t, and you have people see- when it’s appropriate.” That was something he’d experienced a few times. “I’ve had it happen before. Maybe I could arrange that, if that’s something you’d want. People watching, not touching, just watching me touch you... and I’d touch you plenty, darling."

“I think um, I’d like it” It was hard to talk with how her tongue felt tied. “I’ve not done a lot of it but I think I’d be open to seeing and doing more of it.” Her voice weakened, feeling him close to her. His cologne was warm and slightly spiced, his fingertips brushing her arm. Y/N had never experienced the sort of thing he was describing. The most she had done was fuck in a car. “Y-Yeah. I think that’s something we could um… try.” She cleared her throat, trying not to show how affected she actually was. It was hard not to. “What other kinks? Anything I wouldn’t guess?”

Harry saw right through her attempts to seem unbothered and he grinned, his hand continuing to lightly brush against her shoulder. He was enjoying the effect he had on her, the more the minutes passed by. It was a brand new side of her that he hadn’t been privy too prior, but now that he had a chance to? He was going to indulge.

"Glad you're up for trying it, darling. And as for other kinks..." He paused for a moment, his gaze trailing over her body before he spoke again in a deeper voice.

"I'm also into a bit of rope bondage, but that’s for another day too. The typical things you’d expect in kink too, the rougher stuff sometimes, but I really like working you up until you can’t take it anymore. Making you desperate, y’know?"

“Ropes?” She swallowed the shock. “Oh. Hm…” it made sense given the other things but for some reason she hadn’t expected him to be into actual ropes. “I’d have thought maybe more handcuffs but you do like being difficult, don’t you?”

It was a joke but it slightly intimidated her. Nothing she wouldn’t try, though. She trusted him to do that sort of thing with her, if they got to it.

Harry hummed at her surprise and leaned a little closer, his hand coming up to her chin to tilt her face towards him. His eyes locked with hers, his tone serious. It was hard to ignore how beautiful she was now that he was allowed to think that way. It was something he’d tried to limit his brain from indulging in before, but knowing he’d have all the rights to be the one to stare and touch her, he felt like a layer had been peeled back.

"Yeah, darling, I like being difficult. And I like being in control. But we'll take it slow, alright?" He saw the hint of intimidation on her face and the small act of rebellion he liked to see in her. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, her skin hot and soft under his touch. “Nothin’ you don’t want t’do. I’ll make sure you're comfortable. Even if you’re a miserable little brat sometimes.”

“I…” her train of thought was stalled by the tender touch. Harry was… he was being a lot more liberal with his touches. Sometimes he was when he was high in general but this itself had her feeling hot under her skin. There was that intention now that this was slightly more than what friends do. “I can’t lie and say I’m not slightly intimidated by the thought of us doing stuff together. You’ve done a lot more than me.” She admitted meekly.

Harry simpered as he heard her confession and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He appreciated her honesty, understanding her intimidation. It would be the same for him in her position, but luckily he was going to use his advantage for good. "I know I've done more than you, but that's not a good nor a bad thing. Everyone is experienced in their own way, darling. And that's the point of us doing this... to explore each other, to learn what the other likes." He ran his hand down her arm, his fingers lightly tracing her skin, sending chills across her body.

His fingers curled around her wrist, lightly pulling her up and leading her to straddle his lap. This wasn’t at all where she had expected this night to go but… she couldn’t complain. With her nerves aside, Harry was by far one of the most attractive people she had ever met. There was no way she could turn away the opportunity to feel the way he touched someone romantically.

“You’re really okay not sleeping with anyone else in order to do stuff with me?”

Harry gazed up at her as she straddled his lap, his hands sliding up her thighs, pulling her closer against him. He looked up at her with a mix of desire and affection, appreciating her concern for his boundaries. "I'm absolutely fine with it," he assured her, his voice a low rumble. "I don't want anyone else." His hand came up, gently cupping her jaw. "I want to make you feel good, Y/N. I want to give you all the pleasure you deserve, and I want to be the only one doing it."

Y/N let out a weak sound as his lips pressed against the corner of her mouth. Having him so close was making her feel lightheaded, placing her hands on his shoulders as he tugged her closer to him, chest to chest.

“What do you want to do tonight?” She mumbled, eyes dropping to his lips back up to his eyes. “We don’t have to do like, everything and stuff but… I dunno.” The weed definitely made her aroused.

Harry chuckled softly, his lips just barely grazing the corner of her mouth, teasing her again. Feeling her body against his, her hands on his shoulders, it sent a wave of heat through his body. He doubted she knew that he’d started getting aroused when she started talking about what he’d be into.

"You're cute when you're bashful, darling. And high." He teased, his lips curving into a smirk as he spoke against her skin. "As for what I want to do... I just want to enjoy this moment. Maybe smoke a bit more, later. But mostly I just want to touch you."

“O-okay. You can touch me however you want.” Giving him that opening was bold, but she also knew she needed to just let him take charge. He said he liked to dom, so he would take care of her. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt soft presses of his lips over her cheek, down to her jaw.

“You smell really good.”

Harry could feel himself holding back the pleased noise. The little compliment was a welcomed one, but he didn’t get them often from her. It was a new part of their dynamic but he couldn’t find himself upset with it. In fact, he was going to do everything he could to get some more out of her. He glanced at her, enjoying the way her eyes closed in response to his touch. Running his nose down the column of her neck, he took a little inhale of her scent. Sugary Sweet. Just like her.

"So do you, darling." He spoke against her skin.

In a test of how she’d react, he let his hands slid under her shirt, his fingers tracing along her bare skin. There was no stiffening, so he continued slowly moving closer to the hem of her bra. His lips continued their path down, leaving behind a trail of tingling sensations and wet marks on her skin.

The shaky exhale was louder than she had wanted, his hot fingertips burning a trail over her skin. He took the permission to heart, tracing the bottom of her bra as his lips moved down her collarbone.

Her breathing hitched as she felt his teeth sink into the skin lightly, a firm sucking making her fingers grip his shoulders tightly and nails dig into him just a bit. “Oh, shit… why does that feel good?”

Harry giggled against her skin as he felt her nails digging into his shoulders, enjoying the fact he was already getting a reaction out of her. He continued to kiss and bite her skin, occasionally sucking on the sensitive parts, marking his territory and drawing out more sounds from her.

"Cause I know what I'm doing, darling." He murmured against her skin before biting her collarbone again, this time a bit rougher.

“Oh my god.” She keened, head falling back as her hand came up to cup the back of his head. Fingers curled in his hair, feeling his mouth mark her up while his hand went under her bra, cupping her in his palms. “Fuck.”

Y/N felt the pulsing between her slick thighs, her sleep shorts riding up as she shuffled closer and pressed his mouth harder against her skin. It had been a while since she’d gotten laid but it was a little embarrassing how quickly he managed to get her to feel completely insane.

The sounds of her keening and breathing and the feeling of her arching into his touch was making his own need for her grow. His lips continued to work her her skin, marking and kissing and doing all the things he wanted because it felt like heaven to have this on tap. He could only imagine how much better their smoking sessions would be, how much more fun sleepovers would be if he got to love her up like this without a second thought.

“H…” she whimpered. Rocking her hips slightly, she rubbed against his bulge she could feel clearly between her thighs. “You’re h-hard already?”

Harry hummed quietly, feeling a thrill as she rubbed against him. His lips curled into a smirk against her skin before he lifted his head up, looking at her with darkened eyes. "Yeah, 'course I am, darling. You have no idea what you do to me, do you?"

Moving his hands back down to her hips, he gripped them tightly to grind himself against her. Give her a taste of just how hard his cock got for her. There was no reason for her to doubt. “You did this, sweet girl. S’all your fault.”

“Oh, shit.” She groaned, giggling at the end as she felt his mouth fall onto her chest. Wet, sloppy kisses were placed on the tender skin as she felt him guide her back and forth, setting a pace for the friction. “I can’t tell if it’s been a long time or if uh… if you’re just really good at this.”

Both. It was absolutely both.

Harry chuckled against her chest, his breath hot against her skin before his smirk widened.

"Mm, I would like to think it's because I'm really good at this," his hands guided her hips, setting a slow, torturous pace. "But maybe also a bit of both. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

“Uh-huh.” She nodded. “9 months.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at her response and tilted his head to the side.

"Nine months? Damn, babe." He murmured, his hands going under her shirt, his fingers tracing up her sides, making her shiver. Getting the reactions from her felt almost as good as her rubbing over his cock. "That's a long time."

“Just didn’t find anyone good enough to let in my bed.” She retorted, using her grip on his head to guide him back to her chest. “Take my shirt off.”

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He quickly pulled her shirt off, throwing it over his shoulder, before his hands came back up to her body, slowly tracing up her stomach, his fingers brushing over her skin. The thought had been there quite a few times over what she’d look like bare, but this was a brand new vision for him. One he absolutely adored.

"Beautiful." He murmured, his gaze wandering over her chest as he took in the sight of her bare skin, his breathing growing a bit heavier.

Her voice interrupted his inspection of her body. “Bra, too, please. Have to bite the bullet.” Despite her nerves that maybe he wouldn’t like what he saw, she felt comfortable with him. Harry wouldn’t ever make her feel bad. That much she knew for certain.

Plus… she wanted to feel more of his mouth.

Harry chuckled softly and nodded, his gaze locking with hers for a moment as he ran his fingers over the straps of her bra, pulling them down over her shoulders.

"You're so beautiful, darling. Don't ever feel nervous around me," his reassurance grounded her, his voice gentle but firm.

He reached behind her back, quickly unclasping her bra and pulling it off, tossing it away. Taking a moment to appreciate the sight in front of him, his eyes lit with desire. “God. You don’t even understand how phenomenal you are, do you? M’a lucky son of a bitch that you’re letting me touch you at all.”

Y/N continued to rub herself against him, feeling flushed at the praise. It was embarrassing that she had a pretty good idea that her sleep shorts were getting soaked, but she was swollen and wet and the motions itself of him between her legs were getting her embarrassing close.

Feeling his mouth kiss over the naked skin, she let out a moan that she hadn’t expected to. He was delicate but demanding, taking what he wanted.

Harry groaned as he felt her rubbing herself harder against him, his hands gripping her hips tightly to guide her movements. He couldn't resist the need building up inside him, the need to make her moan and whimper and squirm beneath him.

"You sound so pretty, darling," The compliment murmured against her skin, his lips traveling down her chest, stopping every so often to leave wet kisses, claiming every inch of skin he could. Selfish, possessive, needy. He wouldn’t deny any three of those allegations should she so choose to label him.

“It’s gonna feel so good when you’re inside of me.” She whispered, almost in awe. He was thick and long and she could feel every inch under her. It was almost intimidating to feel it and know that was going to be inside of her at some point. “But I… we have to wait for that. Wanna do that when we aren’t all… you know.” High. At least the first time they fucked, she wanted to be sober completely. “I think I could get off just like this, though. I feel so good right now.”

Harry nodded, his lips continuing to leave wet kisses on her skin, his hands roaming up her sides as he continued to grind himself against her.

"Impatient, aren't you, darling?" He teased, nipping at her neck before moving his mouth to her ear, whispering in it. "You'll just have to wait for that, though. But...there's always other ways to get us both off, hm?"

“Which way?” She breathed, eager to hear any and all suggestions he had.

Harry held her gaze, his eyes dark and full of desire as he spoke in a low, husky tone.

"Let me show you."

He gently pushed her back until she was laying down, his hands running down her thighs, pushing them apart slowly. Shifting his position, he hovered over her, his body fitting perfectly between her legs. His weight rested on his forearms as he looked down at her, she felt her world right itself from how it had been tipped over.

Y/N hadn’t expected the shift of direction but she liked it. Feeling him on top of her, she felt… delicate. Protected. Even if his gaze was predatory and hot, she knew he was good hands to be in.

She also hadn’t expected his hands to grab her shorts, pulling them off and tossing them to the side- but as soon as her panties were exposed, he settled back between her thighs. It was less of a barrier between them.

Harry hummed in approval as he got a glimpse of her panties, taking a moment to admire the sight before him. "You're so fucking wet, darling. Made a mess of those useless shorts. Panties aren’t much better." He murmured, his eyes roaming over her body before they went back up to her face. "And I fuckin’ love that you're all mine right now."

Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. Grabbing his face, she pulled it back up to her own and kissed him. Taking matters into her own hands, she felt him reciprocate immediately. And god, could the man fucking kiss.

Harry let out a soft curse at her sudden action but didn't hesitate to kiss her back through it all, his lips moving against hers hungrily. He pressed his body closer against hers, trapping her beneath him as his tongue delved into her mouth, greedily tasting and claiming her like he had been teasing the whole time.

“I wish you could fuck me right now.” She whimpered, feeling him rock against her. His cock perfectly pressed against her cunt and their mouths lapping against one another’s, it was heated and desperate. They couldn’t, not right now, but the idea of it had her slick and throbbing. It was unfair how her body was so primed and ready for him but she had to do the right thing. He’d feel so perfect inside of her and she’d be so full and they both knew it. “I wish you were inside me.”

Harry groaned at her words, the sound almost like a growl as he buried his face against her neck, his breathing getting heavier as he heard her whimper. He rocked his hips against her, his own need growing stronger with every second that passed.

"You have no idea how badly I want that, darling. But we can't...not yet." He whispered against her skin, his hands gripping her hips tightly. “I’m plenty patient, though. I’ll wait for you to want it, and then…” the pause was heavy. “Then I’ll give you every fucking thing you’ve ever wanted out of a fuck. Can promise you that.”

“I know. I know.” There was no doubt that he was fully and utterly capable. She swallowed back her desperation, wrapping her legs around his hips to pull them closer. “You just feel so good against me. I never expected this…” she whispered against his mouth. “But I’m so happy you decided to be horny and suggest it.”

Harry laughed, leaning down to press his lips against her neck again, licking at the skin as he continued to move his hips against hers, his body hot and heavy against hers. He lifted his head up slightly, looking down at her with darkened eyes as he took in how she had started to look a little blissed out. Just how he wanted her.

"I didn't expect it either, darling. But... I'm glad I did." He murmured, his fingers caressing her skin as he settled into a slow, steady rhythm. Rubbing back and forth, rocking his clothed cock into the sticky heat of her ruined panties, he knew her scent would be on them and that just sort of did something to him. Her own mark left on him.

Y/N felt the bubbling pleasure in her tummy. Feeling him rutting against her, the softness of his tongue as it brushed against her own, his hand curled around the back of her neck in such a possessive and firm grip, she felt controlled in the best way. Her eyes rolled back as she felt him grind harder against her.

“Fuck, Daddy. That feels so fucking good, feeling you against my cunt.” She purred, keeping herself glued to him. There was a pause of moment but she could feel him twitch against her, the sharp intake of breath as he tried to catch himself. It had been a shot in the dark, but one that hit the bullseye. “You like when I call you that? Does it make you feel good too?”

The reaction was visible. The man liked it more than she could even seem but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to play into it to see just how far it went. “Daddy… daddy…. Dadddy.” She taunted, whispering it against his skin. “You’ll make me cum like this. Just keep grinding into me…. Just like this.”

Harry groaned at her response, his lips moving down to her neck, leaving biting kisses in his path. The honorific had him weak, even more worked up than he had thought he could be in this scenario. Little Y/N was getting bolder by the minute and he fucking adored it. It made him wonder what else he could get out of her.

"You're gonna get it, darling. Jus’ be patient and let me make you feel nice, the way you’ve been wantin’ too." he murmured against her skin, his hips continuing to move against hers, keeping a steady pace. His hand cupped her chin, forcing her to look up at him, his eyes dark and intense as he looked down at her. "Daddy's gonna take such good care of you, Y/N. Don’t ever doubt it."

Harry was hot to the touch, her fingers guiding his face back to kiss her as he ground his cock into her. She could feel how it twitched against her, her legs keeping him close so they could stay glued together. “That feels…” she babbled. “S’good. So good, H. I feel so hot and I’m so fucking wet and I wish there wasn’t anything between us but we gotta be good. So good.” She rambled. It was hard to control what left her mouth. She would call it temporary insanity if he brought it up again outside of their arrangement, but the simple movements were making her lose her goddamn head.

Harry's breathing was getting heavier by the minute, his heart pounding against his chest like they wanted to escape his ribcage as he continued to rock his hips against hers. He felt hot and needy, every fiber of his being screaming to be closer to her, but he held himself back, knowing that they had to at least try to be good. He’d get to sink his cock into that hot cunt another day, make her cum around it and squeeze and milk every drop from his balls into her. That was something he was going to look forward to. But for right now they were testing the waters, and he liked it way more than he thought he would.

"Y’feel so good, darling. So, so fuckin’ good, can barely stand it." He murmured against her lips, letting the praise flow easily off his tongue. It’s what the woman deserved. All these shitty hookups and no one knew how to get to those little itches she couldn’t scratch- but he could read her so easily. Harry knew what she needed. "You're doing so well for me, being so good. Daddy's proud of you."

The last sentence made her whine out loud. Pleasure flowed through her at his praise, wanting more of it. All of it. It had been so long since she had been touched by someone else, and while the last person she had expected to do it was her best friend, she had also never felt this level of desperation.

Harry could feel her body responding to his words, her whimpers and whines making his own desire for her grow even more. He loved knowing that his praise was making her feel good, that she needed to hear his words. He continued to murmur sweet, filthy things in her ear as his body moved against hers, his need for her growing more and more intense with every second.

"That’s my girl, sweetheart. You're doing so well for me, letting me take care of you like this."

He knew it had been a long time for her, felt it in how she kissed. Selfishly he would be glad to be the one she got to take care of her. No one else really deserved it. Maybe he didn’t either, but he cared for her genuinely. He liked her and he wanted the best for her- so that’s what he was going to do.

“M’gonna cum, daddy.” She whispered. “I feel it. You’re getting my clit so perfect each time you move… god, s’so embarrassing to cum dry humping but I forgot how good it feels.” Or maybe it just hadn’t ever felt this good with anyone else. It had been a while, sure, but she hadn’t actually had dry sex with someone since she was sneaking around with her boyfriends back home. Something about it made her know that it had to be a Harry thing, though. That he’s the reason it felt this fucking good and why she was desperate for it.

Harry could feel her words shooting straight to his core, his body growing hotter in response. He could tell that she was close before she had even said so, by the way her body trembled against him, by the way her words got breathier and more desperate. Hearing her say so only made him more eager to get there.

"That's it, sweetheart. Let daddy make you feel good, darling." Harry murmured in her ear, his hands gripping her tighter, his body moving against hers more frantically now as he chased his own release alongside hers. She was going to cum, she was going to cum because of him and fuck if that wasn’t the sweetest reward he could think of- he wasn’t sure what was. "You're doing so perfect for me. Just let go for me. You can do it. I've got you, sweet girl."

Y/N felt it approach quicker than she had wanted. It was no wonder, though. Harry was giving her everything she didn’t know she needed in the simplest way, and he wasn’t even inside of her yet. She felt safe and appreciated as his fingers held her and his lips cooed encouragement to her, the rhythmic back and forth of his cock rutting against her poor, soaked panties, the heat boiling over.

“I’m gonna- m’cumming, m’cumming, I’m cumming Daddy- Harry.” She babbled as her eyes welled up with pleasured tears, nails digging into his skin as she came.

Harry's breathing hitched as he felt her grip on him, her hands digging into his skin and her body trembling against his as she came. “There you go baby, there you fuckin’ go. Yes.” He gasped, feeling himself tip over the edge. His name leaving her lips in a strangled whimper had been the final straw, his own release hitting him like a wave, his body shuddering against hers as he followed her over the edge. Shooting right into his briefs, he felt the hot and sticky load and momentarily mourned the loss of it not being inside of her, but it was quickly passed over as the orgasm washed over him.

"God, darling," the man groaned, his voice low and rough as he buried his face against her neck. Mouthing over the skin as he tried to gather his bearings, he mumbled sweetness into her. "You did so well for me, sweetheart. You're so perfect. So good for me. Sweetest fuckin’ peach."

The loud groan that followed her own had caught her off guard, the sharp thrusts of his hips making her cry out in overstimulation but she did little to stop it, keeping her legs around his hips. “What the fuck was that?” She laughed, head falling back on the sofa with her eyes blurry and wet. It was hard to think.

Harry couldn’t say anything, his own brain fuzzy and his body in overload after that climax. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his forehead resting on her shoulder. His curls brushed her skin, scalp slightly damp as her fingers settled in the mess of hair and brushed through it without a second thought.

"Bloody fuckin’ hell, babe." Harry finally managed to say, his voice a bit shaky. "That was… incredible." He lifted his head up, looking down at her disheveled and flushed form, his eyes roaming over her.

It was just dry sex, but it had been better than some of the full on stuff he’d had. Maybe it was just their connection, their vibe, maybe even being high, but he knew it felt impeccable. This was something he wanted to revisit- and he would, especially when he was all alone with his hand on his cock.

“If it feels good like that, what the hell are we gonna do when we do the real thing?” Y/N blinked up at him, the flush of her orgasm glowing on her skin. She felt her body shivering slightly, her poor panties a complete mess she’d need to change into, but there was no regret so far. It took her by surprise considering she had been anticipating a bit of awkwardness between the both of them but there was no hint of it as they recovered, a light kiss pressed over her cheek as his hazy eyes looked down at her.

Harry let out a half-laugh, his body still feeling heavy and spent after that intense release- one that had been a welcomed surprise. There had been no prior indication that would be happening tonight but for as insane as it was that it happened, he was more than happy that it did. Getting to experience this side of Y/N had been something he liked far more than he could have ever anticipated.

Leaning down, his forearms rested on either side of her head as his eyes locked with hers while he spoke. "I have a feeling that the real thing will be earth-shattering." He said, his voice low and slightly hoarse. "The wait might kill me, though."

[inkskinned]

before you know about women, you hear that you do not need to love the man, just that you need to love him through his manhood. which is to say you have seen the future painted in lamb's blood over your eyes - how your mother shoots you a look about your father's inability to cook right. how your aunt holds her wineglass and says i'm gonna kill em. men, right! how your best friend bickers with her boyfriend, how she says i can't help it. i come back to him.

you learn: men are gonna cheat. men aren't going to listen when you're talking, because you're nagging. men think emotions are stupid. they think your life is vapid and your hobbies are embarrassing. men will slam things, but that's because men are allowed to be angry. if you get loud, you're hysterical. if a man gets loud - well, men are animals, men are dogs, men can't control their hands or their eyes or their bodies. they're going to make a snide comment about you in the locker room, about your body, about how you're so fucking annoying. you're going to give him kids, and he will give you the money for the kids, and you're going to be running the house 24/7 - but he gets to relax after a long day, because his job is stressful. the man is on stage, and is a comedian, and says "women!"

and you are supposed to love that. you are supposed to love men through how horrible they are to you - because that's what women do. that's what good women do. wife material. your father even told you once - it'll make sense when you're older. it was like staring down a very lonely tunnel.

it feels like something's caught in your throat, but it's all you know, so. it's okay that you see sex as a necessary tool, a sort of okay-enough ritual to keep him happy, even though he doesn't seem to care about happiness as-applied-to you. it is relationship upkeep. it is kissing him and smiling even though he didn't brush his teeth. it is getting on your knees and looking up and holding back a sigh because he barely holds you as you panic through the night. it's not like the sex is bad and you do like feeling wanted. and besides! he's a man! like... they're another species. you'll never be able to actually communicate, right. he isn't listening.

you just don't get it. you don't feel that sense of i'm gonna climb him like a tree. mostly it just feels fucking exhausting. you play the part perfectly. you smile and nod and are "effortlessly" charming. and it's fine! it's alright! you even love him, if you're looking. you could have good life, and a good family, and perfectly happy.

in the late night you google: am i broken. you google i'm not attracted to my husband. you google i get turned on by books but not by him. you google how to get better in bed.

the first time he yells at you, it almost feels like blankness. like - of course this is happening. this is always how it was going to end up. men get angry, and they yell, and you sit there in silence.

you mention it to your friend - just the once - while you're drunk. she shrugs and says it's like that with me too, i just try to forget and move on. men are always gonna hear what they want to. pick your battles and say sorry even though he's in the wrong. you play solitaire online for a month. you go to your therapist appointment and preach about how you're both so in love.

after all, you have a future to want. nobody lied about it - how many instagram posts say marriage is hard. say real love takes work. say we fight like cats and dogs but the best part is that we always make up. how many of your friends say happy anniversary to the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. if you really loved him - loved yourself too - you'd accept that men are just different from you.

the first time she kisses you, it's on a dare at a party. something large and terrifying whips through your body. you wake up sweating from dreams where her mouth is encrusted with pearls and you pick them off one by one with your teeth. fuck. you sit at the computer and your almost-finished game of sim city. you think about your potential perfect life and your potential future family. you google am i gay quiz with your little hands shaking.

you delete each letter slowly. you don't need to love him. you just need to keep going.

[luveline]

could i request teacher!reader with hotch? like maybe she’s jacks teacher

thank you for your request! fem!reader, 1.2k

You're a teacher: you're always tired. Overworked, underpaid, everybody knows how it goes. And maybe you've let yourself go because you don't have any real material hopes for the future beyond getting Macy Danish to read at a first grade level, but how were you supposed to know that Jack Hotchner's father would be so overwhelmingly attractive? It's not fair. 

He's handsome though older than you'd been expecting, but that isn't the cut and dry of it. When he comes in, it's alone, in a well-fitted suit. He's tall and remarkably dark-eyed, shaking your hand without trying to impose any authority, as some of the fathers tend to do, and when you call him Mr. Hotchner, he says, "Aaron, please," but continues to call you Ms. L/N.

"Aaron," you say, pulling your skirt under your thighs as you sit down. You're dressed in nice clothes for the parent-teacher conferences, but you could've covered your sleeplessness better. "Jack is the nicest boy in class. He's actually my loveliest kid. Um…" You search through your notes for the preliminary assessment of Jack. "Sorry, two seconds." 

"Take your time. I know what it's like to dig through a mountain of paperwork every day." 

"Jack mentioned you work in the government, he calls you a special agent," you say, smiling. "You get the bad guys." 

"I am a special agent. Supervisory." Aaron is conscientious enough to pretend he doesn't notice your surprise. "I'm chief of the behavioural analysis unit." 

You can't even begin to guess what that entails. "Oh," you say breathlessly. 

"I understand that it sounds fantastical." 

"It sounds impressive," you say, floundering to correct yourself. Behavioural analysis? It must be obvious to him how nervous he's making you, then, and when you realise that, you get worse. "I'm so sorry about this. I should be more organised. I usually am." 

"That's alright. Take your time." 

Does he always speak that way? His voice is like fucking silk? Is he messing with you?

You yank the notes you made for Jack from the pile and flatten them across the desk. "Okay, sorry. Like I was saying, Jack is really the nicest kid, him and his friend Molly. They're both lovely, and teachers shouldn't have favourites, please don't tell the other parents, but they're my favourites." You smile at him quickly and return your eyes to the paper. The words swim in front of your eyes. "Jack can read better than you could ever hope for a first grader, he's immensely intelligent for his age group. He's patient. He'll explain anything to anyone if they ask him too, and he does it well." 

"I'm glad to hear that," he says, again so softly. 

You pick up one of your skinny biros to have something to fidget with. He's a very good looking man, but you're a good teacher. You can focus on what to say. Some parents need good things only. Some need reassurement that they're doing a good job. Aaron is harder to read, but you know what he needs, too. 

"He can be lonely," you say, looking him in the eye. "I don't think that that's down to any fault. I'm sure you know better than I do why he might feel that way." You know about his mom's passing over a year ago. You've seen grief in children too many times. "He… I understand if this isn't okay with you, but he eats lunch with me sometimes. I encourage him to sit with his peers, of course, but I think he runs out of energy pretty quickly." 

Aaron nods thoughtfully. His brows quirk into a furrow that you're afraid is directed at you. 

"I don't think he necessarily has trouble connecting with his friends." 

"What do you think?" 

"I think something awful happened to your family, and Jack will feel it for the rest of his life, but that it won't stop him from being great. It already isn't. And… he clearly has a father who loves him and who he admires. You're his second favourite topic." 

"What's his first?" he asks. 

"He's really into Fruity Fridays," you say with a laugh. "I bring in fruits you don't get often in America. Someone would've had to sign a form." 

"No, I remember signing it. He likes that?" His smile is golden. "I can't get him to try new things." 

"He had all the leftover gold kiwi last week." You rub your lips together. Time is ticking. You have nearly thirty parents to see tonight, but talking to Mr. Hotchner has been so normal. He's a regular person in a sea of inattentive helicopter narcissists. It's a relief and a half to meet him and know a kid as gentle as Jack is in good hands. "Mr. Hotchner, I have to tell you, I'm really relieved to meet you." 

"Aaron," he corrects.

Your tone drops too low. "Aaron." 

"I'm more than relieved," he says. "I knew that this year would be harder for him. I didn't know… I'm grateful to you, for being so kind with him." 

You look down at your notes, flushed from head to toe despite your airy skirt. Crossing your legs, you shake your head. "It's my job." 

"To let him take up the only break you get all day?" he asks. 

"It's not like that. Jack doesn't bother me." You fold your notes in half. "I can see his role model measures up." 

"I could say the same thing." 

The next time you see Jack, bright and early Monday mooring shepherded by his aunt Jessica, he's very happy to see you. You offer him a hug and pat his back when he wraps his arms around your hips. "Hello, Jack. Was your dad pleased with your drawings?"

Jack smiles at you. "I have a note for you." 

"You do? Can I see? Where is it, honey?" 

Jack takes off his backpack and pulls out the note and a tupperware container. "Oh, wow, did you make treats for the class? Jack, that's so nice!" 

"No. Dad said those are for you. He said you should have nice for nice, or something," Jack informs you. 

"You'll share with me, though? I can't eat them all by myself," you whisper. 

He nods with enthusiasm and runs off to put his backpack in his cubby and his coat on the hook. You look down at the cookies and note, which is actually an envelope. 

You open it with your thumbnail. The writing is Aaron's usual tight cursive.

Dear Miss L/N, 

I hoped to thank you again in person, but work makes that hard. I appreciate everything you do for Jack. There are teachers who work, and there are teachers who go above and beyond. I can feel confident anywhere in the country knowing Jack is being taught by the latter. 

Gratefully yours, 

Aaron Hotchner. 

P.S. Please don't feed Jack too many cookies. They're not for him. 

You keep the letter even if it's lame to do so. When is the next parent teacher conference, anyways?

[rinhaler]

𝖒𝖞 𝖋𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖎𝖘 𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖓

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ plug!ryusei shidou x f!reader

Genre: smut Notes: iiiiiii want him n need him desperately ♡ i made him icky, manipulative and dress like pete davidson warnings: 18+, (soft?)dom!shidou, sub!reader, dubcon, drug use (weed), blowbacks/shotgunning, reader has pubes!, ryusei has a gold tooth, virgin!reader, corruption kink, dumbification?, fingering, blowjob, head pushing ♡, male masturbation, use of nii-chan (not referring to ryusei), slight dacryphilia, shush!kink, praise, pet names, cum eating ♡, he calls your pussy 'her', slut used once. words: 7.1k

“No way am I coming over. Your big brother would kill me.”

Ryusei can’t stop himself from smirking when he can hear your attempt to conceal a whimper. And he just knows there’s a plump little pout on that pretty little face on the other end of the line.

He’s been dealing to your brother for years, they’re basically best friends if you subtract the client aspect from the equation. They smoke together, they’re always hanging out and Ryusei isn’t a stranger to the apartment you and your brother share.

“How did you even get my number anyway, darlin’? Reaaaal naughty of ya to be calling me like this. Gonna be in big trouble if I tell your nii-chan.” he tells you. And this time you hear the smirk behind his voice. He’s teasing you. He’s toying with you, but you still can’t stop yourself from becoming paralysed with fear.

“He gave me it for emergencies! Please don’t tell ‘im!” you sigh. “He’s on some weekend work trip because he’s tryna get a promotion. I’m just lonely…”

“Awe, and why is that my problem?” he asks, harshly. It takes you aback slightly though your determination doesn’t falter. You take a deep breath and try to formulate a response in your mind.

“You guys are always havin’ fun together… but you never let me join in. I wanna have fun with you too, Ryusei—”

“No.”

“But—”

“I said no.” he stands firm and shows no signs of backing down. He hears the little deflated exhale you release, and he licks his lips as he thinks. He doesn’t want you to be sad, but he knows fucking around with a client’s sister behind his back is a stupid fucking idea. “You’ll be alright on your own. Why don’t you invite one of your friends over.”

“W-Well… I just wanted to see you.” you tell him, honestly. “I— I wanted to try smoking with you.”

He chuckles when he hears that. It hasn’t been a discreet crush you’ve harboured since you saw him for the first time. You may have thought otherwise, but Ryusei has always known. He kisses his teeth and laughs again as he thinks about this tantalising proposition being thrown onto his lap.

“You’re really tryna get into trouble this weekend, huh? Do you always invite drug dealers over?” he wonders, knowing the answer already. He knows you’re a good girl who always does as her nii-chan says. But today you want to let your hair down. Today you can let your hair down because he isn’t here for the whole weekend. You can be a little naughty and reckless and have some fun for a change. “Are you that lonely, baby? Jus’ want some company?”

“… Y-Yes. ‘m lonely…” your lower lip wobbles as you think about being in the same apartment all by yourself for the next two days. You’re fine now, it’s only 12:30pm. But what about when it gets dark out? You’re a stupid girl who lets her mind run wild with the possibilities of ghosts and home invaders. You’ve seen one too many horror movies while your brother and Ryusei are high in the front room for no regard to your taste in genre. You hate horrors but you’ve seen so many thanks to them. And now your mind is racing. What if you got kidnapped or killed for the fun of it? “I don’t wanna be alone, Ryusei… ‘m so scared.”

He grits his teeth, resolve crumbling as he thinks about you all alone in the apartment he’s spent so many nights in. So many pointless nights where he could have been out making more money or fucking a multitude of girls who don’t hide their attraction for him. So, is he really about to sacrifice the same for you?

Lonely, frightened, you?

“Well, we can’t have that, can we? I’ll be there in twenty.”

Now that he’s here you’re not sure what you were thinking. You’ve never smoked before. You’ve not even had a sip of alcohol before! But you know drugs are Ryusei’s whole life right now. Selling, buying and occasionally consuming. He locks the door behind himself as he enters. He’s wearing a wide grin as he comes in and approaches you.

He thinks you’re just the sweetest little thing.

Your feet walk you backwards as he gets closer to you, lunging forward to grab you when you almost trip over your pink Kirby slippers that your brother got you for your most recent birthday.

“Clumsy girl.” he grins, gripping into the fat of your underarms. He leads you over to the couch and more or less throws you down onto it. He dumps his backpack on the coffee table. “What time does your brother come home, sweetheart?” he asks, not even looking your way as he takes out his belongings and spreads them out on the table.

“Uh—” you think, eyes squinting as you look up at the ceiling and try to act natural. “Monday… morning.” you tell him.

“Well, I’m sure he won’t mind if I keep you company ‘til he gets back, right?”

“R-Right…” you aren’t so sure about that, but you’re hardly going to disagree with him. Though in truth, he knows he’ll be furious. But the time he cared about your pathetic brother’s opinion has been and gone. What kind of man would he be if he left a poor defenceless thing like you all on your lonesome in such a sketchy part of town?

You watch him carefully as he pulls out a grinder, some papers, and a large baggie of weed and puts them all down on the table. Your mind wanders as he describes the effects to you, none of it is computing. And it gets even worse when he starts talking about different strains doing different things. As far as you were aware, weed was just… weed. You’d never heard about strains or effects. All of your knowledge comes from movies. Tripping, munchies, all of the cliché stuff.

He grins when he sees your dumb expression. Of course you’re not understanding anything he says. All you need to know is that you’ll be okay because he’s here to look after you. He’s here to take you through it.

You watch him as he grinds it up in a tall metallic grinder. And seeing him roll is like witchcraft to you. It’s not like it’s the first time, but it’s the first time you’ve seen it up close. Your nii-chan always exiles you to your bedroom when they’re rolling and smoking. You’re only allowed out once they’re high, though it’s never stopped you peaking from the crack of your door.

Your eyes widen in disbelief as he holds eye contact with you while he licks the paper. Suddenly you’re looking anywhere but in his direction. He’s revelling in it, making you so uncomfortable and shy. You really are sweet ‘n innocent, huh?

“Here.” he hands it to you, his voice earning your attention and you look into his pink eyes before they drop to the blunt in his hand. You look back at him, confused, and he finds himself adjusting the baggy shorts he’s wearing in hopes that you haven’t noticed the way his cock jumps when you tilt your head so stupidly. “What? This is what you wanted.” he speaks, his defensive tone surprising you.

“But… I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never smoked before…”

“Never? Not even a cigarette?” he asks.

“Nothing… never smoked or had a drink or even been to a party. Nii-chan is too protective.” you pout. He wants to fucking ruin you. You’re so fucking cute and stupid he thinks he might cum in his underwear just from hearing you speak. You’re so obedient and it makes you so fucking stupid. As if you aren’t a grown woman who could get her own apartment and do whatever she wants. “Will you show me?” you speak, cutting through his thoughts.

He nods, effortlessly. He lounges back into the couch, legs spread wide as he lets the blunt balance between his lips. It’s lit instantly, and you can’t believe what a pro he is. He’s got one of those stupid lighters. The ones with the metal bit you have to spin with your thumb rather than one of the plastic ones you just push down. You can never use them. Your brother always lends them to you when you want to light a candle, but he always ends up lighting them for you.

“Get me somethin’ to use as an ashtray.” he tells you, it’s a rude demand rather than a request. But his lack of manners doesn’t stop you from immediately jumping to your feet and rushing over to the kitchen sink. You just washed your brother’s ashtray this morning. You smile happily as you hand it to him, clearly willing to do anything he asks whether he’s polite about it or not.

He takes a few more drags and flicks the ash every so often. And when he’s halfway through, he looks at you, expectantly.

“Your turn.” he tries to hand it to you again. You take it, and you flinch as he also forces the lighter into your palm. “You didn’t invite me over just to watch me smoke, did you? What, are you trying to take advantage of me?” he laughs, running his tongue along his top row of teeth. His golden canine twinkles at you, halting you from speaking for longer than you’d intended.

“It’s not like that! I just— I’m nervous, and I hate these lighters.” you explain. You stiffen as he rolls his eyes and adjusts his body, angling it to face you. His stare is harsh, bordering on agitated. It’s only fair, you think. He hadn’t planned on spending his day babysitting you or showing you how to do something so simple. “’m sorry.” you speak, it’s so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it. Almost.

“Open up.” he commands. You’re confused at first, and before you know it his rough thumb is tugging at the fat flesh of your lower lip. “I said: open up.”

You clear your throat and angle your body in a similar way to him. Although you’re nowhere near as tall or intimidating as him. You’re like a sullen little dormouse, respecting the orders of your master. Your lips part ever so slightly as he places the blunt between them. Your lips close around it, keeping it perched firmly between them. He can see lip gloss residue smearing on the paper; his depraved mind is going into overdrive. His lewd thoughts encompassing him, he needs to break free and focus on you before you start to ask more silly questions.

He tucks your hair behind your ears and away from your face. A brief thought crosses his mind of how embarrassing it would be to get caught by your brother because he singed your fucking hair.

“Don’t just suck it, yeah? Breathe it. You wanna feel it go in your chest, alright?” he asks you, it sounds like a reminder. Like he’d already told you this and he’s making sure you are listening this time. It’s hard not to when all you can focus on is him. How he’s staring at you. How he smells like cheap aftershave and weed. The smell of weed is revolting, truth be told, you aren’t sure how you’re going to be able to inhale it without gagging.

He flicks the lighter a few times and keeps an eye on your expressions and your breathing to make sure you’re doing it right. You look terrified.

And he likes it.

Your eyes get wider and wider the more you inhale, and he’s worried they might pop out of that pretty head of yours. You suck and you breathe in as much of the earthy smoke as you can until it embraced your lungs like an invader claiming its new home. He can’t hide his laughter when you begin to choke, realising you are the good girl you’re claiming to be and absolutely have never smoked anything in your life.

“Everything hurts.” you tell him, still coughing and sputtering out lingering smoke as your eyes water. “It tastes like shit…” you continue, covering your mouth as you can’t stop yourself from choking anymore. He gets up, handing the ashtray to you to balance the blunt in and he flees the scene of the crime without a word. He returns a few moments later with a glass of water, he even added in a few ice cubes for you.

“Think you’re all grown up because you’ve had your first puff?” he wonders, “Never heard you swear before, darlin’.” he finishes as he hands the glass to you.

“I swear… I’m allowed to swear, Ryu.” you answer defiantly.

Cute, he thinks. You really are trying to sound all big and bad for him. But he’s never going to take you seriously after that little display, you’re just a little girl trying to act tough. A cute girl trying to be the cool girl.

But you both know you’re far from cool. A cool girl wouldn’t care so much about pleasing her brother and being a good girl for him. A cool girl would do whatever she wants without fear of the consequences.

At least you’re trying, he thinks.

You glug and you glug until you soothe the suffocating dryness in your chest. He’s transfixed on a droplet of water clinging to the corner of your mouth, unable to tear his gaze as it begins to run down your face. And he can’t think of a cuter sight than you still trying to be the cool girl, wiping it away with the back of your hand before he can notice despite it being much too late for that.

“C-Can I do some more?” you ask him, big wet eyes blinking at him as you hope he’s still willing to guide you.

“Think you can handle it?” he asks. “Get some more water.” he commands, not even letting you answer first. It’s probably the right call, though, you’re hardly going to be accustomed to the feeling of smoke contaminating your insides after one heavy inhale.

You follow his pathing from moments before, getting yourself some water and fresh ice cubes before returning and facing him again. You drink so much; he grabs your wrist and moves the glass away from your lips before you down the whole thing.

He lets out a heavy breath as he holds the blunt and sees how your lips immediately part for him this time without being asked. Fast learner. His thumb pulls at the metal wheel twice, each time it sounds make your eyes flicker further open.

“Breeeathe.” he demands, and you obey. You take it waaaay better this time, holding it for longer after he pulls the lighter away and takes the blunt from your lips. “That’s it, atta girl.” he smiles as you slowly exhale, only coughing a little bit. Your little hands are immediately reaching for the glass of water you set down moments before.

“I feel…” you try and think, eyes darting around the room in search of the right words to use. Your eyes close without your permission, humming happily as you embrace the feeling, a cheery smile visible on your face. “Weird…” you giggle, deeming it the only appropriate word that springs to mind.

“Is that right, baby? Feelin’ weird?”

“Mhmm.” you sigh, dreamily, letting the feeling consume you wholly. You want to melt into the couch beneath your thighs; and you involuntarily begin to lean back into the plush leather before Ryusei stops you. “My eyes are hurting, Ryusei…”

“Mm, I’ll bet. They’re all bloodshot, princess. Think you’re high.” he smirks.

“Wan’ some more.” you tell him, reaching to take the blunt from his hold. He moves his hand away. The fat, brown joint just out of your tired reach. And fuck he can’t stop his cock from twitching when you don that pout. That pretty little pout that you can’t stop yourself from displaying any time you’re disheartened. “P—lea, p-please…” your lower lip juts out further.

“C’mere.” he instructs you, his empty hand patting at his adjacent thigh. He sees the hesitation in your eyes. The little protest lodged in your throat as you think what a bad idea this could be. Why does he want you to sit on his lap? Your heart is racing with possibilities. Is he going to try and kiss you? Or is it simply an easier position for him to help you smoke? “Move, baby, now.” his voice is firm, almost scary. Your movements are slow, but you find yourself moving on his order regardless.

You go to him, but he stops you as you try and sit nicely in his lap. It isn’t quite what he had in mind. He doesn’t want to baby you like the princess you want to be for him. You’re like a ragdoll as he positions you, limbs loose beneath his touch until you realise you’re straddling him. His legs are spread wide, relaxed, and you’re hovering above him a little.

“Open your mouth f’me.” you’re like a robot, complying with each and every command he issues without hesitation.

You’re too good, too perfect. And Ryusei Shidou is quite the opposite; he’ll ruin you if you aren’t careful.

But right now, you couldn’t care less.

Your dewy lips part, wider than they had earlier until Ryusei seems satisfied. He’s relieved you’re only hovering over him, or you’d have definitely felt the way his dick twitched at the sight of your pudgy lips widening for him.

He relaxes, fully, his own eyes becoming more bloodshot as the minutes go by. Weed doesn’t affect him like it used to, not in the way it’s affecting you. But he’s calm. All of his thoughts are collected, and he feels at peace. It’s probably the reason he’s being so brazen and not giving a second thought to the consequences of being with you anymore.

While you’re waiting for his vision to be realised, while you’re waiting for the reason as to why he wants you in this position with your lips spread, he lights up the blunt once again. You watch him through a heavy-lidded stare as he takes a hefty inhale.

You sense him planning something, the cogs whirring sinfully in his mind as he looks between your eyes and your lips as he inhales the smoke deeper and deeper into his lungs. He rests his arm over the rest of the couch, harbouring zero consideration for the potential ash staining the cream carpet below.

He tries to close the distance between your bodies, and you instinctively jolt away from him, your lips clamping shut just as quickly. As much as he wants to smile, to laugh, his lips remain neutral and sealed. His empty hand holds the small of your back. His fingers drift, trailing up the column of your spine. He flattens his palm between your shoulder blades, pushing your face and body closer to his. His right hand remains between your shoulder blades, the other coming around to tug your viscid lower lip until your mouth is ajar. He leans in, closer. The closest he’s ever been to you in the entire time you’ve known him.

He's going to kiss you.

Your heart is thumping, the intense beating, hammering your heart through blood, muscle tissue and flesh. Your eyes close instinctively, and at that, he does smirk.

His eyes alternate between yours, and your gloss covered lips. And then his are ghosting yours, not close enough to touch but not far enough for you to not feel their presence. His gaze becomes heavy, lustful as he observes you. He’s fixated on how you react as he blows the smoke from his lungs into yours.

Your eyes widen as you realise he isn’t kissing you, but your mind is hazy as you realise what he is doing. His lungs shrink as he empties them, but he doesn’t move. He smiles, though, and you fucking feel it. He’s waiting patiently to see just how desperate you are for him to kiss you.

Your breathing is intense. He can hear each breath you take through your nose as you try and compose yourself. You try and calm down and hide your burning shame from him. He knew what you’d assume and chose not to correct you. Just to see you squirm.

But you want to kiss him.

You want him to kiss you.

He chuckles lightly when he sees a nervous little gulp plummet down your throat, he’s sure if he blinked he would have missed it. He wonders if your eyes always vibrate so intensely when you’re nervous.

“Did you like that?” he whispers, his lips still inching away from yours. You feel each and every breath it takes for him to speak that sentence.

“Yeah…”

“Yeah?”

“Mm… mhmm…” you nod, eagerly and yet somehow still awkwardly. “D— Can you do it again?” you whisper. It’s so meek and downright precious he can feel pre fucking ooze out of his tip.

He adjusts his position, nodding, his lips almost catching yours but not quite before he pulls away to smoke some more. Your lips part beautifully and he’s smiling sinisterly yet again. His hand travels from your back to hold the crown of your head, you can’t back away this time, not that you’d want to. He’s keeping you in place as he slowly begins to puff smoke past your desperate lips.

You moan, involuntarily, as you feel your mind cloud and your body grow wearier. But still, you can’t get enough. You can’t fully satiate your desires of intoxication. Not with drugs. Not with attention. Not with touch. You need him. More of him.

“Baby?” you hear him mumble, his lips clumsily toying with yours as he refuses to fully close the gap between them. “I think ya wanna kiss me.”

You squeak, almost, a high pitch whine sounding through your nose as the uncomfortable statement surges through you. Were you so pitifully obvious the whole time? You lean in closer, attempting to close the separation between you. But he pulls away, ever the tease, and he can’t help but relish the whimper that claws its way up your throat.

“You ever even kissed anyone?” he asks, closing the gap once again. “Y’know, since you’re such a good girl.”

You feel the tips of your ears and face begin to sear with heat, embarrassment flooding through your blood. You nod, defiantly, doing all you can to assure him you’re not the big loser he seems to think you are.

“I have… ‘ve had boyfriends before… Ryu…” you tell him, though it’s still a little humiliating.

“So,” he starts, his hand holds your hip as he adjusts himself slightly. Thumb stroking your side calmly, despite his cock driving ever so gently into your core as he moves. Not hard enough to set off alarm bells, but just enough to leave a lasting impression. He bites lip and releases it just as fast as his eyes rake over you, and you feel so small under his stare, despite him being the one looking up at you. His fingers weave and comb through your hair until he gets a tight enough grip. Your noses are touching before he tilts his head, your lips barely lingering on one another’s as you each fight against fully committing. “If I kiss you right now, it’s gonna be worth my time?” he whispers.

In truth, it’s been a while since you kissed anyone. You haven’t had a boyfriend since high school and that seems like a lifetime ago now. But you don’t want to go another second without feeling his lips fully pressed against yours. So, you nod. It’s weak and unconvincing, but you nod anyway.

It’s enough for him. In truth, he wouldn’t have cared if you’d never been kissed before. He’d be more than happy to teach you, though he’s sure he’ll teach you plenty anyway. He’s going to turn you into a masterpiece; one that has been created only for him to enjoy.

His lips slot against yours and it’s like an explosion. You’ve been fucking starved for him, and you can barely remember to breathe as it intensifies. Suctioning sounds repeat as you kiss without stopping. Neither of you remember to come up for air until you’re gasping.

Your lips part divinely as his tongue pushes past them and it’s so rapturous as your little wet muscle meets his. He groans, loudly, as he licks and swipes all while you’re moaning pathetically into his mouth. He bets your soaked, he’s rock hard and leaking like a virgin getting his first hand job after all.

“Stick out your tongue.” he tells you, and like always, you do as you’re told. He licks at it, swirls his own tongue around it. He sucks it until he’s heady with lust.

His body collapses against the back of the couch, and like the perfect pet you follow him. You can’t stop making out with him now. You can’t possibly get enough. You doubt it would even be enough to crawl inside his skin and live out the rest of your days there.

You’re addicted to him.

He pushes your body down so that your crotch is fully pressed into his. The feeling of his throbbing cock almost entirely against your panty-clad mound is a surprise to say the least, you hadn’t expected it and your surprised expression gives you away instantly. But he doesn’t comment right away, instead, he grinds his crotch against yours as you carry on kissing. Your breath fans across his face, you’re delirious from the sensation of him being against you like this, you’ve never known anything quite like it.

“Feel what you’re doin’ to me?” he chuckles, parting away from you enough to look up at you again and lick his lips. But you chase him, you think you might stop breathing if you deny yourself of him. Your tongue pushes past the seam of his lips, and of course he doesn’t object. He feels your little wet muscle searching for something, and he can’t contain the amused scoff when he realises you were tracking down his gold tooth, the tip of your tongue licking it from behind all of the way to the front until you reach his gums. “Fuck… you’re filthy.” he informs you before kissing you again.

You giggle before he yanks at your hair. Flirtatious laughter being forced into a tantalising gasp, your head angled so that you’re looking up at the ceiling above. The column of your neck is almost enough to make him cum. It’s so fucking bare. So pure and untainted. He wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into you. To cover you in hickeys and bite marks so that everyone knows what he fucking did to you.

But he knows, deep down, it isn’t worth it. It isn’t worth the questions and the bullshit and the drama. Not this time, anyway. Instead, he leaves gentle kisses and soft suckles against your skin. His tongue leaves fat, wet stripes over your throat and pulse point, hot breath fanning over them between kisses. You’re keening for him as his lips begin to ascend. You’re shuddering against him as he breathes heavily, deliciously, into your ear. His hand drifts to squeeze your tit over your crop top as he continues to breathe thickly into your ear canal. The intensity forcing your skin to break out in goosebumps.

You mewl, and it’s a fucking siren song as he sucks on your earlobe. He drives his covered cock up into you as he takes the cartilage between his teeth, alternating between that and sucking like he’s trying to get milk from nipple.

“Does anyone else know what a naughty little thing you are?” he talks directly into your ear, thumb rubbing over the thin material of your top, your hardened nipples unfortunately hidden behind your push up bra. “Or do you only get like this f’me?”

“Jus’ you…” you sigh, your arm wraps around his neck so that you can hold his head the same way he had yours. Tiny little fingers toy with blonde and pink tufts, he groans slightly at the comforting feeling.

“Darlin’… you know you have to pay, don’tcha?” he asks. It’s so out of the blue, you push away from him. He grins as he watches the confusion and horror take over your facial expression. You were so blissfully at peace, lost in the feeling of his lips and his touch all over your body. “Drugs aren’t free, y’know.”

“B-But…” you think, panicking, “I— nii-chan only left me enough for emergencies…” you tell him, hoping he’ll take pity on you. He offers a fake little pout, tutting at your excuse. It’s so feeble and pathetic and he loves how easy it is to mess with you.

“Awe, baby.” he offers faux sympathy, his thumb stroking over your cheek yet again. “You better do what I say then, yeah? Gonna have to keep bein’ a good girl f’me, ‘n then we can forget the whoooole thing.”

“What do you want me to—”

He thrusts his hips up, and you lose balance, falling perfectly into his arms. He tugs at your crop top, urging you to take it off. You start pulling it upwards, though it’s too slow for his liking. He yanks it over your head, getting a quick eyeful of your tits and aqua blue bra before he sucks hard into the fat flesh of your breasts.

You’re too busy moaning, rolling your hips against him to notice he has unclasped your bra with one hand. He pulls carefully at the straps, ridding you of the material covering part of your modesty. He bites his lip and breathes heavily as he ogles them. You feel the way his cock pulses against your cunt.

“S’fuckin’ pretty—” he muses. You feel different, now. You’re fully on display for him and you are completely at his mercy. Your rational mind is telling you to give him the emergency money your brother left and send him on his way. But sadly for you, your poor neglected pussy wants him to stay and have his way with you. “You’ve gotta suck my cock, baby. Now.” he demands.

Your heartrate sky-rockets. Things are moving so fast you can barely process it at all. You look down between your thighs and see the ever-growing bulge in his shorts. Can you argue with him? Reason with him? It doesn’t matter either way, you’re already sliding carefully onto the ground and getting down on your knees between his spread legs. You aren’t sure where to start. Everything you think about doing dies a sudden death with each new idea that comes to the forefront of your mind.

“Pull it out, hurry up.”

Little hands shake as nimble fingers grip onto the waistband of his shorts. You pull and you pull and he lifts his body to help in your efforts. He almost grunts as his cock springs free, pearlescent pre leaking a ton from his twitching slit.

“Mmmm…” he moans as he grips his cock at the base, shaking it a few times so that the tip hits your nose softly, soupy liquid sticking to you as he does. “Be a good girl, show me how bad you can be.”

There’s not a single universe where you’re successfully concealing your apprehension from him, though he thinks nothing of it. He thinks you’re nervous because you’ve had a crush on him for quite some time now and you don’t want to disappoint him. Your hands carry on shaking as you grab onto his length. He’s huge, both of your little hands are holding him in your grasp and there’s still more of his thickness unable to be held.

You think to start off you should clean the tip; you lick and lave over his throbbing head and your face scrunches as you register the warm tanginess permeating your tastebuds.

His body almost dissolves into the couch as you start to take more and more of him. He shoos your hands away and holds himself so that you can balance your hands on his thighs. His free hand holds your head, forcefully attempting to shove you further and further down on his length until you’re choking on him. You’re spitting and sputtering just like you had when you smoked.

“S’cute.” he moans. The light praise encourages you to keep trying for him. So, you do, try. You try to give him mind blowing head. You try to remember to use your tongue to keep him nice and stimulated as you bob up and down on his cock. You even remember one of your friends telling you that squeezing your thumbs stops you from gagging as much.

But it’s all in vain.

Ryusei hisses, flinching from an amalgamation of too much teeth and not enough spit. He snatches you away by your hair, seeing red veins stabbing through the whites of your eyes as they begin to gloss over. A watery sheen telling him of your deepest shame and embarrassment.

“Are you a fucking virgin, baby?” he wonders. His cock spills more pre as he sees tears fall from your eyes and cascade down your cheeks. The little sniffles you can’t stop are a symphony to him and he can see the way your throat is choking back audible cries. He can hear the little croaks trapped there, though, poor thing. “Never sucked a cock before, have you?”

“’m s-so sorry.” you stop fighting your losing battle as you start to cry, utterly humiliated that your secret has come to light because you did such a terrible job giving head. “I’ll— g-get my purse ‘n then you can just g-o. I’m sor—”

He leans forward, hand snaking between your thighs to cup your cunt. “Never had a cock in her, huh? What about fingers? Anybody ever ate your pussy, sweetheart?”

“N-Nothing!” you speak, almost defiantly though that wasn’t your intention. You’re feeling vulnerable and defensive. You’re embarrassed, and he has his hand somewhere nobody has ever touched you before. “Only kissed before…”

“Mmm… no wonder you’re so wet.” he speaks, though he isn’t seeking a reply. He’s simply musing to himself. He should have known, really. When would you get a chance to fuck and learn how to suck cock when your brother practically holds you hostage in this shit hole apartment? “I won’t fuck you, today. You’re not gonna suck my cock either. Come here.” he continues, he grabs both of your wrists and drags you back to your previous position with little effort. You’re above him, again, your thighs straddling his. “Stand up, actually.” he orders, you obey.

Your tits are still exposed and you’re standing in nothing but your pleated mini skirt and silk panties beneath. He twirls his finger, encouraging you to do a spin for him. You complete it, quickly, your skirt raising ever so slightly and exposing a peak of pink silk before you find a neutral position once more.

“Slower.” he tells you, so you spin again. Slower, just for him. “Stop.” he tells you when your back is facing him.

“Is something wrong, ah—!” you yelp as he ruthlessly kicks the inside of your ankles until your legs are spread apart from each other.

“Bend over, put your hands on the table.” he instructs you. You’re slow in doing so, not wanting to rush this time; though you still feel your heartbeat in your throat. Your skirt rides up, the pink silk completely covering your most precious secret. Though he grunts at the sight, unable to control himself. His jaw clenches and bubbles at the sight of brunette curls peaking from the sides of your panties. “Holy shit, fuck.” he sibilates, thick long fingers hooking into the pink silk. He wastes no time tearing them from your body, shoving them into the pocket of his hoody.

He grabs the globes of your ass, kneading the flesh under your little skirt and parting your pussy lips in the process. He’s enamoured by the sight, the way your arousal has soaked your pubic hair. It’s shimmering, he can’t help but to touch and toy with your pubes when they’re taunting him like this. He can’t remember the last time he fucked a girl with a cute bush of hair like yours. It’s always fucking waxed and landing strips and of course he won’t complain, but seeing your intimate form in all of it’s glory like this… you’re perfect. You’re fucking holy.

He pushes a single finger hastily into your wet hole. You almost fall forward; you cry out from the feeling of being stretched for the very first time.

“Never shave this fucking pussy, yeah? Leave it like this f’me.”

You don’t reply, mind spiralling from the feeling of pain and pleasure as he burrows his finger in deeper and begins to curl it when he feels that perfect little spongy spot buried deep. Your cheeks are stained with glittering tears, the overbearing living room light not offering you any courtesy in that regard. Your tear-stricken face will be exposed to him, eventually.

Will he care?

Will he show concern?

Will he be sympathetic since he is the cause?

It appears not. He holds no consideration as he pummels a second finger inside of your gummy interior. He scissors them again and again and again until you’re practically screaming. It feels worse when he pushes against the spot. That spot that blinds your fucking vision.

“A-Ah. Aaah—!” you sob, scream, anything your body can physically project in your current state. It almost feels like an out of body experience. “Ouch! Ow, R-Ryusei. Hurts! Hurtin’ me—!” you explain. He wraps an arm around your midsection, fingers still cosy deep inside. He pulls you back, your spine flush against his chest. His hand moves from your stomach to your mouth, silencing your cries and whimpers as his fingers carry on battering your g-spot.

“Shhh, it’ll feel good in a minute.” he informs you. “Rub your clit, baby, show me how you touch this virgin cunt.” your entire body becomes scalding in an instant, the lewd language and very notion that you masturbate filling you with unease. But without question, your fingers find the swelling nub between your pussy and begin to rub and rub.

He rests his forehead against your shoulder, smiling down as he hears painful cries turn to libertine moans. His smothering hand frees your airways, allowing you to send your mewling into the airspace freely. He squeezes his cock, hard, and begins to masturbate himself. A sticky, clacking sound filling the room. It’s mixing in with the sound of your squelching cunt.

Your eyes cross as he finds a perfect rhythm with you. You’re sure you look like a bona fide whore, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re balancing on the balls of your feet with your legs spread open wide, putting your cunt on full display. Your left hand digs into the leather arm rest beside you, the only form of balance you have.

You’re so fucking loud. He’s never heard anyone scream or moan as loudly in his life, though he’s one to talk. He’s on the verge of cumming after so much torment and he couldn’t be more vocal if he tried.

“D-Do you want all the neighbours to hear what a little slut you are? Want ‘em to tell your brother you got fucked stupid while he was gone?” he asks, it’s rhetorical, of course. He doesn’t care that you’re being loud. He just wants to torment you, tease you and build that unadulterated shame that you’ve had embedded in you your whole life. You are the product of repressed sexual urges. Would you have let a drug dealer strip you and play with your cunt if you weren’t so desperate and needing to be toyed with?

“’m gonna c-cum. Fuck, Ryusei! Cumming f-for you—!” you cry, your walls squeezing his fingers until they feel close to breaking. “Oh my god…” you sob. Your poor little virgin slot throbbing and pulsating around his thick heavy fingers and you continue to cum for what feels like a lifetime. His curling fingers dragging out the feeling for as long as humanly possible.

“Hah- haah- ah, fuck!” he finishes, white, gluey fluid shooting up your back. He fucks his fist until he drains every last drop from his swollen balls. He admires his work, smearing the remaining residue on your ass cheek and your skirt. He wonders if you’ll remember to wash it, God forbid your stupid brother find a cum stain on it.

He scrapes his cum onto his fingers and orders you to face him. He brings his sperm to your lips, expecting you to know what to do.

“Eat.” he says. You hesitate. He wants you to what? It’s a liquid, you can’t eat it. Does he want you to lick his fingers? Put them in your mouth? He’s sick of waiting, however, forcing them by your lips until the bitter taste coats your tongue. “Eat it.” he looks at you with venom in his stare.

You hold his hand sweetly with both of yours. He watches you as you suck his fingers, internally thinking how much better you are doing this than you are at sucking cock. He bears his teeth, the golden one glimmering in your eye once again as you continue to clean the cum from his digits.

“Thaaaat’s it, good girl. It’ll get the taste of weed out of your mouth.” he tells you. You finish sucking, releasing his fingers with a gentle pop before placing his hand back on your thigh.

He allows his fingers to lightly caress your skin. The pads carefully glide over you as you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him for the final time during this encounter. But he wanted to fuck you, didn’t he? He wanted you to suck him off properly, too. He’ll let it go for today, but this certainly won’t be the one and only time you’ll bare it all for him.

You still owe him for the weed, after all.

He thinks he might set up a depraved little payment plan for you.

© 2023 rinitxshi

[r4izx]

the next page

scaramouche x gn!reader

summary: you start seeing less and less of your lover and more and more of him with someone else.

- 2,522 words and 13,694 characters.

- slight cursing

a/n: sorry for not updating for so long •́ ‿ ,•̀ exams just ended. have this and not a part 2 of my last fic LOL.

9 days, 14 hours, 58 minutes and 2 seconds.

you don't know how you managed to keep track of the time but that's how long since you've seen your boyfriend in the day. if it wasn't for your shared apartment, you might've not even catch a glimpse of him at all.

these days, scaramouche has been coming home late and going out a lot. it's the reason why you've been staying up late night, waiting at the dinner table until he comes home for the dinner you prepared. but everytime he comes home it's already 2 am and the food has gone cold. you even offer to heat it up for him but he's either not hungry, already ate, or tired. but not too tired to go out with his friends it seems. and although you said friends, you're referring to a particular girl he's been spending more time with than anyone else. more time than with you. it didn't take long for you to find out why he's been ditching you. but it has been so long since you knew the reason yet you've done nothing about it.

you still wait at the kitchen table for who knows how long. but you always end up falling asleep, not noticing when he comes home. and the next day when you wake up, he's gone. that's basically your everyday routine. all you do is stay holed up in your shared apartment all alone. you didn't have much friends compared to him since you chose to hang out with him most of the time.

10 days, 2 hours, 4 minutes and 31 seconds.

it's late at night when scaramouche just entered the apartment. fortunately, you woke up almost immediately after hearing the door unlock. you fell asleep on the table, once again. and before scaramouche could even enter his bedroom, you called out his name.

"wait! scara..!" you still feel groggy from just waking up but you couldn't miss this chance. the chance to confront him. he stops in his tracks and slowly turns his head into your direction.

"what? be quick, i'm tired." scara replies. he was never the warm type of person, but he was also never this cold. you've never heard him speak in a tone like this. cold as ice. hearing him speak like that made you hesitate and even more nervous than you already were.

you nervously speak up,

"w-well, you know these days i've been thinking... you might be spending too much time with your friends and a girl i've been seeing you with. because we've barely hung out together compared to you and your friends." you finally confront of him. hoping he would understand how you feel, just like how you understand that he can have other friends as well.

"because of that, it's been really... lonely. I really don't wanna sound dramatic but maybe we could-"

"you are though." you internally flinch. before you could even finish what you were gonna say, scaramouche interrupted you. "you're being so dramatic y/n! can't i hang out with my friends?! you think you're the only one i have?! archons, there's so many people out there better than you! you're being so possesive."

you? possesive? is he being for real? are you wrong for wanting to spend time with your lover? his words keep echoing in your mind. 'dramatic, better than you, possesive.' you wanted to fight back and defend yourself. but, you wouldn't. you couldn't. you knew that he has other people to rely on too but who knew it would hurt this much when it's being said to you directly. what you didn't know is that he would choose to rely on them over you. now you look like a blind fool, who only saw the truth right now. the truth to his feelings. 'is that how he thinks of me?' you were stunned. too hurt to speak. but you snapped out of your daze once you felt something wet rolling down your face. a tear. you were, crying. crying for a guy who you knew you don't deserve. but you couldn't help it. all you could do now is wipe your tears.

"s-scara no- i'm sorry," what for? why do you need to apologize? "how about i join you with your friends instead? that way we both cou-"

"pfft." scaramouche tried holding his laughter. keyword: tried. he fails. bursting into a fit of laughter. "you? join us? tsk. don't make a joke like that, seriously... i don't need anybody to embarrass me infront of my friends. i told you, i'm too tired for this shit." and just like that, scara entered his room. leaving you all alone at the kitchen table, once again. you covered your mouth, hoping he wouldn't hear your muffled whimpers as you try to not to burst into tears. rushing to your own bedroom just after scara went to his.

you couldn't hold it in anymore. you broke down, tears streaming down from your eyes, too fast to wipe. you couldn't stop crying when you remember the things he had just said. but that wasn't the main reason as to why you were breaking down. sure, the hurtful words were a part of it but it was mostly because of the fact that, ...you know your worth. and you're worth more than this, and you deserve better. but you can't bring yourself to just... let go of him. you hate it that you wouldn't move on. that you couldn't move on.

8 days, 16 hours, 18 minutes and 20 seconds since that incident.

ever since that day you and scara has distanced even further. only seeing each other at night. barely. you told him how you felt and you didn't expect an outcome like this. you figured that you should treat yourself to something nice. you decide to go to the arcade. it was an arcade where you and scara would sometimes go to after class. it wasn't the best place to take a break at, considering you still think of him here, but atleast you were able to relax a bit. surprisingly, you managed to win something at the claw machine! it cheered you up when you remember the amount of times you spent money on rigged claw machines and end up getting nothing. maybe you should go to the arcade more. specifically on bad days. ironically, you're luckier on days where you feel like the unluckiest person ever.

just as you were about to get the prize you won, you saw something, no- scratch that, someone, out of the corner of your eye. someone you really didn't want to see. but still, you looked. your gaze lingered on him. you couldn't help but stare at scaramouche. your lover was right there. right there with another girl. is he cheating? is he leaving me? replacing me? you start overthinking, especially when you remember your last interaction with him. green hair, olive eyes. she's pretty too... maybe scara was right. maybe you were possesive... because right now you're feeling a lot of things. anger? sadness? jealousy? whatever it is --it doesn't feel good. while you were out here feeling like shit, scaramouche right now had the biggest smile on his face. with someone else, he looked so... happy. the smile on his face however, wasn't new to you. seeing it made you reminisce about the past. when you both were still happy together.

"scara! h-hey!-"

you both were walking at the side walk on the way home from school. it felt as if it was just yesterday when this happened. scara was teasing you, smudging ice cream on your face after you both bought some.

"ah- stop it!!"

scara didn't stop, he started laughing. he burst into laughter. and instead of being mad at him for teasing you again, you felt oddly comforted. was it because of his smile? seeing him so happy with you? whatever the reason was, you're just glad he's happy. and so you couldn't help but laugh along with him.

and right now, you're seeing the same memory again. but it's him,

...with someone else.

he's laughing with someone else. doing the same teasing to someone else. being so happy, with someone else.

it hurts.

and it hurts even more when you see that you won matching keychains. there's a pang on your chest and you can't explain the feeling. all you know is that you get this feeling when you see him being okay without you. while you're here suffering without him. it's unfair. you know your worth, and you deserve better. maybe... you should really move on.

so you've promised yourself, --you won't chat him, call him, prepare food for him, wait for him to get home. to think you would change yourself this much because of scara when he wouldn't change a single thing for you. but, it's for the better. now you're both avoiding each other.

15 days, 16 hours, 59 minutes and 58 seconds.

you managed to not interact with him as much for this long. things were awkward for the both of you, keeping replies short with each other. you think if other people saw you both they wouldn't even suspect the idea that you both are lovers. but hey, you kept your promise intact. fortunately, you haven't seen him at all for the past few days, not even a glimpse of him- ...yet.

as you were walking back home, you passed by you and scara's old spot. it was yours and scara's usual spot. it was somewhere near your shared apartment with him, an overlooking hill, where you could see the whole city. it was a place you both went to for a breath of fresh air. some memories quickly popped into your mind but you didn't wanna remember anything about it. not anymore. but it was only now that you noticed two figures on the spot. one was... from the silhouette you could already tell it was scara, but you still took a better look to confirm it and just as you suspected, it was him. now, the other figure was... the same girl again.

you're starting to hate the color green because of seeing her too much with him, although, you do feel slightly guilty 'cause you haven't even spoken to her once yet you feel like this. but still, you hate the color purple even more. it was the color of his hair, his eyes, and you were pretty sure it was his favorite color seeing how much his room is filled with it. because of him... you're hating a lot of things, including the fact that he looked so majestic right now. the wind blowing down on his face, his hair flowing with the air, his face leaning closer and closer to the girl's lips,...

as they kissed.

you watched as scara and the girl's lips touched each other's. it's a bit embarrassing to say but scara has never kissed you on the lips. was he saving it for a special moment like this? the atmosphere for them must have felt romantic. but right now, you feel like it's getting hard to breathe, the air around you is heavy, and your vision is getting blurry. ever since scara and you had distanced, you already knew at some point something like this would occur. but it still hurts. so much.

the dam broke.

tears started flooding down from your eyes. you cover your mouth, hoping the two of them wouldn't hear your sobs. your gaze fell downward. you couldn't bear to look at him again, it'll just break you even more. it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. and you start to think that maybe scara has never even loved you from the very beginning. maybe he was always more than friends with that girl. always ditching you for her, being this intimate with her, and at your personal spot with him too. looking back to your most precious moments with him, you really are a blind fool. you thought you were special. when in reality, he'd replace you the moment you do something he doesn't like.

and so, you break your promise. you take your phone out from your pocket. scrolling for a long while through your contacts. it was only now that you realize how long you actually didn't chat him. you finally find his name. 'scara♡'. you quickly cleared his nickname and started typing. even though your eyes were growing blurry from tears, you still tried to finish typing. albeit, with difficulty, you click send.

"scaramluche, we shoudl bresk up."

you didn't care if it had so much typos, you just wanted to get it over with. you tried staying loyal to him, for a long time. despite all of his complaints and how hard it was to breathe around him, you still endured. but a person could only take too much until they break.

you waited for a few minutes until the two of them finally left your spot. it was where you always went to when you needed a breathe of fresh air, so you went and sat there. watching the city lights, gazing at the sky, breathing this fresh air. this is what you need. no matter how many times you come to this place, the scenery always takes your breathe away. even though scaramouche was just here awhile ago, you couldn't even think about him right now. you wouldn't.

and for the first time in a while, you felt... relaxed. you felt calm. the air around you finally felt light, it was easier to breathe. now it's just you and yourself again. you were used to being alone in the confinements of your shared apartment, but this... feels different. you are alone, but you felt free. you aren't chained down to bothersome worries and doubts anymore.

going back to your shared apartment that day was difficult for you. but from then on, you knew things were gonna get better, so you held on. scaramouche didn't even bat an eye to the boxes lying around on your room. he didn't even care about the fact that your closet was getting emptier and emptier through the days. but that's good. because just like how he neglects you, you won't let yourself be bothered by him anymore.

and alas, the day comes where you finally move out. you went far enough to even ask the landlord if you could move in early. this is the beginning of your life without any problems. without any of him. scaramouche is blocked on all of your socials, he wouldn't know a thing about your whereabouts even if he tried to look for you. because you know a lot of things about him when he doesn't even know where you work.

you finished setting up your bed at your new apartment. you hastily scrambled onto the bed, lying down on your back. your whole body instantly felt relaxed and the only thing you could think about is that you don't regret doing this. you think that maybe this was really what you needed. a break from him, being freed from doubts and worries. you truly did the right choice of moving out, and...

33 days, 21 hours, 5 minutes and 10 seconds.

...moving on.

[strang3lov3]

Boundaries

Roman reads your diary when you're out of the house and learns all of your dirty fantasies about him. (3.5k)

Tags - stepdad!roman because I was in that kind of mood, stepcest, smut, daddy kink, age gap, (i aged roman for this so just picture him as dilfy as you'd like - perhaps pedro pascal aged. or joel miller aged if you're nasty), dubcon, some hitting, unprotected piv, blowjobs, vibrators, overstim, creampie, come eating, dom!roman - yes I know. I know I know I know. Let me have this let me pretend he’d fuck my brains out until they’re dripping out of my ears. He’s also a huuuuuge creep in this but I’m into that. I love this little dirt boy slime puppy. Fic help @beefrobeefcal for your beautiful eyes and @noxturnalpascal for your generous editing 🩷 A/N - ROMAN GIRLIES I am sorry for taking my sweet fucking time on getting him out to you in a timely manner but he can be difficult to nail down. I hope you like this icky stepdaddy version of him 🩷

Roman’s bored today. You’re not home right now, you’re out and about spending his money on god only knows what. He shouldn’t complain, though. You’re not as bad as his wife - your mother - who buys bags and bags of clothes and those single-function kitchen gadgets. He knows he’s one to talk, that really, he doesn’t need all of the square footage of his massive apartment or the fancy light fixtures or closets full of clothes he doesn’t wear. But he still doesn’t get it. Your mom doesn’t even cook.

Roman’s lonely, despite his marriage. He married your mom when you were still a teenager. He didn’t see much in her and he doesn’t think she really saw anything in him either, but neither of them seemed to really mind those facts. It was for appearances, mostly, there was never any love in it. Never any sex, either. Your mom could impress her family and friends by marrying rich, and Roman could appear to live a normal life. It makes him feel like Dexter a little bit, and that she’s Rita. Although, he feels like Rita too on some days. 

Roman checks his phone. 9:17pm. Your mom is gone too, she’s out getting drinks with her old friend from college. At least they’re out of the house. They get rowdy and obnoxious when they drink. Roman figures he might as well go to bed, so he gets up off of the couch and heads up the stairs. He’s just about to go to his bedroom when he catches a whiff of something strong and fruity coming from your room. 

A lit candle. You and your stupid fucking candles. Your room is covered in them, all different sizes and colors and scents and brands. You leave them lit all the time, and Roman’s constantly having to remind you to blow them out. But you’re not here right now, and who knows when you’ll be back. He goes around your room, blowing the candles out for you.

 Roman doesn’t go into your bedroom often, the door is always closed and locked. But he catches glimpses now and then, he sees that you leave your bed unmade with your sheets and blankets crumpled up together and he wonders how strongly it smells of you. Not just your shampoo and body wash, but your sweat too. You. And he sees clothes on the floor, a bra hung on the closet door. Bottles of nail polish and acetone and used cotton pads on the vanity where you apply and remove your makeup. Lotion on the nightstand, a jewelry dish filled with sparkling gold trinkets. All of the things that make you up. He gets to look at it up close now, messing with the tchotchkes on your dresser and bookshelf as he strolls through your room. And he snoops through your bathroom too, opening your medicine cabinet and finding razors, and Midol, and mismatched earrings. 

Roman lies down in your bed sheets to smell you like he’s always wanted to do, bunching them under his nose only to be disappointed when he finds that they’re freshly laundered. Only then does he feel like a creep, but not enough to stop what he’s doing. He’s learning so much about you. Roman opens the drawer of your nightstand and finds a THC cartridge and chuckles. You little pothead. He finds a little satin bag and pulls your Satisfyer from within it and smirks as he brings it to his nose and sniffs it, hoping for even the briefest of whiffs of your scent. Not much. He puts it back in its bag and stuffs the bag in your drawer, his fingers grazing over something else deep in the back. He pulls it out - a journal. You’re so difficult for Roman to understand at times, this is the fucking jackpot. 

He situates himself against your thick Tempurpedic pillows, ones that he purchased for you, and he opens your journal. Your handwriting is loopy and a mix of cursive and print, but he manages to make out the words anyway. There’s some entries that are just nonsense - “Bugs flew into my hair”, and “Lost in a maze, following orange tabby cat”. He assumes these are dreams you’ve written down. He flips through the pages some more, hoping that maybe he’ll come across one of your sex dreams. He wonders which celebrity it’ll feature. Probably Pedro Pascal, but he hopes it’s about someone weird like Conan O’Brien or Liam Neeson. 

Roman. Roman is the first name he finds, and it’s within an especially long entry. Not a dream, no - you were most definitely lucid for this one. There’s details, adjectives and adverbs, words like ‘desperate’ and ‘sexy’. You’ve written in detail the way you believe he would fuck you. The things you’d want him to do to you, the things you want to do to him. 

He should feel sick to his stomach right now. You’re decades younger than him, he used to help you with your algebra homework at the dinner table. So fucking gross, so wrong. Roman likes it wrong. He likes it when there’s something off about it, something that would ruffle feathers if people knew. He wonders, do you like that too? Or do you feel ashamed of yourself, do you feel sort of icky inside? God, he hopes you feel humiliated by yourself. 

But he doesn’t feel sick, he feels excited. Thrilled, even. Thrilled that it’s now 9:44, and you don’t like to be out late. Minutes feel like hours as he waits for the sound of your careful steps up the stairs, down the hall. He can barely contain his smirk when he sees the shadow of your body on the floor right before you walk through your bedroom door, face dropping as you see him laid in your bed, your diary in his hands. “Hey, kiddo!”

“Roman–” 

“You’re out past curfew,” he teases. “Isn’t very becoming of a young lady, you know.”

Your cheeks heat up and your bottom lip begins to wobble. “Roman,” your voice shakes, “P-please, don’t read that.” 

“Oh, you’re too late for that. You should have gotten one of those diaries with a lock. Like, maybe one of those ones where you use your voice to unlock it. Or is that before your time?” Roman pauses, waits for your response. He’s not met with one. “Yeah, I read it all. You’ve got a lot of insect nightmares.”

“Did you - did you read anything else?”

 His smile tells you everything. “Mhm. I think it’s cute that you think I’d make love to you. That’s how you put it. Very romantic, very The Notebook-esque. No pun intended, of course.” Roman wiggles your diary in the air. 

 You’re gonna be sick. “Oh my god,” you whimper. “Oh my god, Roman. I’m sorry - you–” you seethe, “That was private.” 

“Ooh, defensive! No, I get it. I really do. You’re embarrassed. You’ve been fantasizing about fucking your stepfather and you’re embarrassed. What would your mommy think?”

Tears begin to blur your vision and you stomp over to where Roman lies on your bed and attempt to rip the journal from his hands, but he’s stronger than he looks. He yanks it back towards him, pulling you on the bed as he does. “C’mere,” he says. “Let’s read your bedtime stories. Is this what you think about before you sleep? While you play with your pussy using that little toy in there?”

“Please, Roman. Don’t do this.” 

“Yeah, I guess that’d be rather redundant, wouldn’t it? Because you’ve written everything in here, and I’ve read it all. I don’t know,” Roman sucks his teeth as he scoots closer to you, too close for comfort. His body touches yours, he brings his face too close to yours as he speaks. You feel claustrophobic, surrounded by him. Like there’s nowhere to run. “It occurred to me, sitting here, reading your dirty little fucked up fantasies about me, that you’ve got me all wrong in your head. And that just kinda bugs me, I guess?” he says. “I don’t know. If you’re gonna fantasize about your stepdad you should do it right. Like look - ‘long, thick, and veiny’,” Roman repeats your own words back to you. “I’m flattered, sweetheart, really. You’ve described a pornstar’s dick, and that’s sweet. But–” Roman unzips his pants and pulls out his cock, already rock-hard and leaking, a pearly bead of precum sitting pretty at his slit. “See? Painfully average.” He strokes himself slowly, squeezing his cock as he does. You’re almost in disbelief, and you should feel disgusted by this. Disgusted by Roman, by his actions. Disturbed by him for putting you in such a vulnerable position, making you feel so small. But goddamn if this isn’t what you’ve wanted. You can read between the lines, see that Roman’s casualness means that on some level, he must want this too. It appears as though your feelings are reciprocated by him, and that’s humiliating in an entirely different way than being caught for having them in the first place. It shouldn’t feel good like this. 

“Look at you,” Roman says. “You don’t give a shit. You’re fucking- fucking salivating over there. Why don’t you get on your knees?”

The door’s wide open. Your mom could come home at any point, walk up those stairs and see her husband on your bed with his cock out, and you sitting right next to him, your eager eyes devouring him. Enabling him. 

“On your knees,” Roman demands. It’s not a suggestion this time. 

The memory foam mattress slowly springs up as you slink off of it and onto your knees, just like Roman asks. He moves with you, lifting his hips to push his pants and boxers down his thighs, and then unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off, revealing his soft, lightly toned body to you. His cock stands at full mast and looks imposing above you despite the way he described it as average, painfully average at that. Maybe it’s the context of the situation. The way that if you take him down your throat, that a line will be crossed and that there would be no way to go back. 

Roman sees you weighing it in your mind as he holds his cock between his thumb and forefingers. He doesn’t want you to think, or second guess this, rather. You’ve done enough thinking to know that this is what you want. It’s why you wrote it all down, right? You want this. You fucking want this. 

With his free hand, he reaches for the back of your head and pulls you close, tangling his fingers in your hair and looping the strands around his fingers as he pushes you down on his cock. He’s met with resistance as you push back, opting to swirl your tongue around the head and tasting that headiness of him, savoring him the way you wanted to. Roman swats your cheek, “Hey - quit that. Don’t fucking tease.” You wish he’d rub the skin he hit, show you a little kindness and make it hurt less. 

 “Wider, open wider,” he grunts. You open your jaw to allow him to push himself into your mouth inch by inch. He smells musky, heady, stronger than you would expect despite his pubic hair being so neatly trimmed. He tastes salty, the bead of precum that meets your tongue tastes so bitter and rather unpleasant, just like Roman is. But you love it anyway. 

Roman takes your hand in his own and wraps it around the part of his cock that you can’t reach with your mouth, squeezing your fingers tight so that your knuckles grind against each other as he twists your hand up and down. His other hand is still tangled in your hair as he fucks himself into your mouth, making lewd grunts and moans. None of it feels pleasant, it’s just his cock in your throat, sliding in and out. It’s mechanical, emotionless. You feel like a fuckdoll. 

Roman decides then that he wants to push you to your limit, so he pulls your hand off of his cock and forces himself down your throat entirely, his hand pushing on the back of your neck, causing you to gag and choke. He displays his strength again as you try to pull yourself up, but he holds you right where he wants you with his hand firmly on your head. “Nuh-uh, you're not quite done,” Roman says, “Choking builds character. Breathe through your nose. You’re fine. Hey–” he taps your cheek, “You’re fine. Relax.”

You know he’s right. It’s like the way they say to try to relax if you know you’re going to be in a car wreck, tensing up makes it hit harder. You try to relax your jaw and open your mouth wider as Roman fucks your mouth, but you still choke on him, drooling all over and making a mess of his lap. Zero gentleness as he bounces your mouth on his cock to an increasingly faster rhythm for his pleasure alone. Tears are spilling down your cheeks as you take Roman’s cock as far down your warm, wet mouth as he wants you to. 

“Mmph–” you groan in discomfort. 

“Oh, shut up,” Roman pants. “Fuck - just - just shut up. You’re fucking fine.” 

Your nose brushes against that coarse patch of trimmed hair at the base of his cock as he forces your head up and down on his member over and over, gripping his muscular thighs for stability. You whine in discomfort as Roman really forces himself into you, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. He giggles at the way you gurgle and sputter on him. “Listen to you,” he taunts. “God, you’re making this so fun for me.”

Roman moans and grunts, his head tilted back as he uses your mouth. Your jaw aches and you don’t think you can take much more. With a deep groan, Roman pulls you off of his cock. “Fuck,” he says. “Get- stand up. Up. Take your clothes off.” He lays on the bed, arms folded behind his head and his hard cock standing up tall, shiny and wet with your saliva as he watches you take off your clothes. You don’t actually consider if you want this or not, you just do as Roman tells you until you’re completely bare in front of him. He looks predatory, threatening even, as he lays there on your bed. “You have your mother’s hips,” he tells you, smiling sickly when your face falls at his comment. He knew that’d ruffle your feathers. 

Roman sits up and leans toward you, reaching for your arm and pulling you onto the bed with him so that you’re straddling his hips. He brings a hand between your thighs, humming when he feels just how slick you are. He ignores your clit entirely, skipping past it to push two of his fingers into your pussy, curling them rhythmically as he brushes against that sweet spot inside of you. “Fuck, Roman,” you moan. And as quickly as it begins, it’s over. He’s impatient and needs to be inside of you. 

Roman sucks on his slick fingers and then puts both hands on your hips, pulling you down a bit, lining his cock up with your entrance. He rubs the thick head up and down your dripping seam, coating himself in your arousal. “Come on,” he says. “Like you wrote about. Let daddy make sweet, sweet love to you.” 

Oh, you like that. Daddy. It adds another layer of fucked-up to all of this that affects you right where you need. Roman watches how your eyes go wide and your lips part. “My, oh my. Is that how we’re doing things? I don’t recall reading about your daddy kink but color me surprised, I guess. Dirty, dirty birdy,” he hums, still teasing your cunt. “Very cliche, you know, but I’m not here to yuck your yum. I will happily be your daddy.”

With that, Roman pushes his cock into you. That slow, gradual slide inside your body stretches and aches and hurts, causing you to bite back a moan. His warm, hard cock fills you just how you need, just how he needs too. Roman sort of whimpers once buried inside of you completely, but he doesn’t allow you a moment to get used to him before he’s thrusting his hips, guiding your own as he does. 

You feel unsteady and grip Roman’s shoulders for balance, he’s surprisingly broad. As he moves his hips he insists on looking at you, not with any love or adoration but intimidation, perhaps. At least that’s how you interpret it. He’s so fucking handsome - his once sleek strands of hair, all different shades of brown and gray are becoming mussed. His brows knit together as he focuses on his pleasure, his dark, hazel eyes scanning up and down your body. You fall forward and bury your head in his neck, the rough scruff on his face brushes against your skin, scratching you. 

You like the way Roman fucks you. Even beneath you, he holds all of the power. His thrusts are sloppy and harsh enough to make you forget about how disgusted you feel by yourself, by him. With Roman inside you, all thoughts are gone. All there is is the in and out, his warm hands holding you down with his nails digging into your skin as he pushes himself inside you over and over again. 

“Oh- hey. Sit up.” Roman’s thrusts still and he leans to his side to open your nightstand and rifle through your belongings for the second time. He pulls out that little satin bag and removes your vibrator from it. “You come on this thing when you’re thinking of me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you answer. 

“Mm-mm,” he tuts. “We went over this. Yes, who?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.” Roman holds down the power button and the toy buzzes to life, then clicks it a couple more times to increase the power. He wriggles it between your bodies, “I wanna watch you come on it,” he says. 

It’s less than a moment before he’s back to fucking you, everything now intensified with the toy vibrating on your clit. It never takes long for it to get you off but with Roman inside of you, you’re done for. Your orgasm approaches quickly, thighs twitching, moans becoming stuttered and broken with your release. 

“Do you always come this easily?” Roman pants, “Or just for me?”

“Just - just for you, daddy.”

You wait for Roman to come too, but it never happens. He keeps going, fucking you til you’re an overstimulated mess, adding insult by using his free hand to tease your nipples, flicking and twisting the sensitive buds. He likes the way you moan louder when he does that. 

“Too much,” you beg. “Please - I can’t.”

“You’re such - fuck - don’t be a pussy. You can take it ‘til I’m done.”

Another orgasm is beginning to approach, threatening to send you over the edge a second time. Those tears from earlier when you were on your knees for Roman are falling freely now. 

“Oh please, the fucking tears. Why are you crying?” Roman goads, still fucking you relentlessly. “You like it this way. I know you like it this way.”

You do like it this way. You like the way Roman fucks you like he’s an animal, how he makes you feel like you’re one too. But you need that come down, that final descent from pleasure, because it’s painful at this point. Your quiet sobs of exhaustion and ecstasy do nothing to slow Roman down yet. “I want one more,” he demands. 

“Roman–”

“Yeah, one more. Do it for your daddy.”

Roman grunts as he fucks you hard, you’ve only now noticed how damp he is with sweat, and how damp you are too. That particular thought makes you feel queasy, the idea of your sweat mixing with his. It feels more intimate than coming on his cock, somehow. This is so fucked up.

You don’t know where release begins and ends, it all feels so intense. But you must’ve moved the right way, made the right sounds, because Roman seems satisfied enough to finally spill into you. You welcome the warmth of him coming inside you, as well as the pain in your shoulder as he bites you there to muffle himself. 

When he’s satisfied, he gently flips you over and pulls out of you, his cock already soft. His spend drips from your core and he uses two fingers to push it back inside, then licks the remnants off his fingertips, humming with satisfaction. You’re all fucked out, an exhausted look on your face. Roman pulls a blanket over your naked body and pushes some hair out of your eyes. “This is on you,” he warns. “Whatever happens, whatever you’re feeling right now…this is on you. You know that, right?”

You nod. “Yes, Roman.”

Roman likes you like this. So pliant, unquestioning, willing to accept a responsibility that’s really not yours to accept. You’re more desperate for him than he thought. He presses a long, gentle kiss to your forehead just to get under your skin and fuck with you. “Sweet dreams, kiddo.”

Next

I'm really sorry about the "you have your mother's hips" comment. I know that was out of line. But I don't have self control and the ickier it is the harder I nut. (also if you enjoyed,,,,please tell reblog/send me asks/comment <3 )

tagging some friends i think might be interested based on if you've rb'd or commented or talked about my Roman stuff before <3 @dorims @atinylittlepain @joelsdagger @goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout @galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson @bookmarkingfics @moth-maam56 @kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink

[remxedmoon]

“the valiant bison. it leaps to protect its fellow creatures, but not you.”

hooved

2 power - 8 health - 3 blood

protector - when a creature on this card’s side of the field is about to take damage, this card will jump forward to take the hit instead.

sharp quills - once a card bearing this sigil is struck, the striker is then dealt a single damage point.

BISABEAU!! YIPEEE! and a fancy custom sigil to go with him! wow! writeup below, as always

that custom sigil huh!! i had to rewrite that description SO MANY TIMES and it STILL ISN’T PERFECT GRAAAA. i couldn’t fit it into the proper description, but isa’ll return to his original spot after taking the hits. he basically redirects all attacks on his teammates to himself. like a moleman but in reverse.

also ^ he won’t try to protect terrain cards! because that’s a boulder. not his friends. the entire concept around the sigil is based around him protecting his friends from harm.

sharp quills is there to let him counterattack while covering for his allies! fun fact, in my original concept for this card, this was replaced with the mighty leap sigil?? for some reason??? even though airborne cards can’t attack cards on the field?????? idk what my thought process there was. thank god i caught that before finalizing his card

don’t ask how he has sharp quills btw. it’s uhh. his horns. yes. the quills are his horns.

i went back and forth between calling him a bison or a buffalo. his design was based more on water buffalo than american bison? but i ended up going with bison just because it was shorter lol. plus the bisabeau pun. i am beholden to the pun.

you might’ve noticed that the patch is in a different spot here! i couldn’t find a spot that didn’t cover an important part of the card. so i had to go through the miserable experience of moving the patch and cutting it out even more thoroughly to prevent it from messing up the pixels around it. somehow that damn patch was harder to make than the CUSTOM SIGIL.

speaking of the sigil patch. he gets burrower! which makes him move to any empty space that’s about to be attacked. functionally, this means that ALL damage on the board will get redirected to him. except for airborne attacks i guess

this card doesn’t have a hidden trait! and there’s a reason for that! because…

“a meek, unassuming calf. it has not yet learned its own strength.”

hooved

0 power - 2 health - 2 blood

fledgling - a card bearing this sigil will grow into a more powerful form after 1 turn on the board.

clinger - when one of your creatures is placed in a space, a card bearing this sigil will move towards them as far as possible.

TWO CARDS!! he gets to have a fledgling form :3

fledgling is self explanatory i think? i wanted to keep some kind of reference to his Change and this was the best way i could think of! lil baby thing based on his past self…

clinger is a sigil from act 3! it’s like. only on the lonely wizbot i think. initially i was just going to give them sprinter (which makes them move to a different space after attacking) but it felt… too similar to the elk fawn for my liking. and it felt more appropriate character-wise

this card is also part of the reason why i went with bison. buffalo calf is a long name!!!

idk how well it comes across but they have their lil braid!! i wanted to include the glasses in some way but it felt a little out of place with the card design. so they only have the braids. a necessary sacrifice

i realize that burrower is a TERRIBLE sigil for this card but! i had to keep it consistent with his mature form. hope your bison calf doesn’t fling itself into danger and die! oops!

that’s everything to do with these cards! phew! that was a lot of text. here’s the patchless versions!

[reallyromealone]

Title: bakugos brother

Chapter:...4?

Fandom: bnha

Characters: Bakugo, kirishima, bakusquad and deku squad and a few teachers

Fic type: series

Pairings: kirishima x male reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, fluff, angst, teen romance

Notes:I lost the ask, so requester I hope you enjoy

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

"Apparently he's like super smart"

"He plays chess, I heard he never lost"

"He seems pretty ordinary, I don't get why he's Nedzus personal student"

(Name) Ignored the comments as he left Nedzu's office, his uniform perfectly ironed and his school work organized to perfection as he went to his gen-ed classes, spending the first portion of his day with Nedzu then the rest with his peers as the faculty deemed it important for him to make friends and talk to those his age.

"Apparently he's brothers with Bakugo"

"He probably has serious anger issues"

(Name) Walked into the gen-ed class and took a seat in his chair, staring off as he began playing chess in his head as he waited for things to start "you're bakugos brother, right?" A voice asked beside him and (name) looked to see a guy "yes, I am" (name) said simply as the others glared slightly "your brother is an obnoxious asshole!" One student said "yeah! You two are so fucking cold to others, what? You think you're better than us?!"

"You know, it's impressive " (name) said simply as a student looked confused "what is?"

"That you can make baseless accusations on someone whom you haven't even had a conversation with" (name) said simply as the others looked shocked "you make claims about me that hold zero merit and frankly I think that's appalling" "how dare--"

"I think that's enough class" present mic walked in clearly frustrated with his students "is this any way to treat a new classmate?"

"But--"

"But what? I heard everything and frankly I'm ashamed of you all" the blond teacher said sternly "(name) was put in your class hoping you all would give him a warm welcome and you berated him for actions of another"

The students looked ashamed and (name) was awkward, fidgeting with his mechanical pencil as the others mumbled out apologies and the blond sighed "now pull out your textbooks to page 138"

When classes ended, (name) had a free study period and decided to go to the courtyard to play some chess by himself and get away from it all, he felt just as lonely as he did at his old school but he should have expected to be in his brothers shadow here as well.

"Hey... Uh were sorry about what happened" a few students came up, a purple haired teen and two others "it was pretty shitty of us to put that on you, that wasn't cool" the teens mumbled and (name) shrugged "I'm used to it"

"You shouldn't have to be though and it's uncool"

"Shinso Hitoshi" the purple haired teen offered and (name) looked at them passively "Bakugo (name)" his voice always so calm and collected as they nodded "so you play chess?" One student asked and (name) nodded "outside of school, I'm a professional chess player"

"Whoa! That's so cool! Is that why you're Nedzu's student?"

"Actually it's due to my quirk, I have an intelligence quirk" (name) explained and the three sat with him "whoa those are super rare!" The other said and Shinso looked curious about it "why didn't you apply earlier?" Shinso asked before realizing that was probably insensitive and (name) shrugged "didn't think I would be able, two students already got into here... A third seemed impossible" it was a lie but they seemed to accept it.

"So what's it like being Nedzu's student?!"

After classes, Kirishima was excited to see his boyfriend as the two hadn't seen each other in a few days due to conflicting schedules but now they could! Even if half the class wanted to join as well.

"I brought a friend" (name) said simply as shinso looked awkward, kirishima feeling pride at his boyfriend making friends independent of the redhead "oh! You're the one going through the transfer!" Momo said excitedly "yeah the one replacing mineta!" Ochaco cheared "and right before the sports festival! Oh we can train together!"

Hitoshi was startled a bit as he noticed Midoriya who was a calming presence "come on! Aizawa is only letting us out till 845! We only have like five hours!" Mina yelled as Bakugo grunted at her dragging him.

Hitoshi was dragged into conversation with tenya and kaminari about god knows what as Kirishima and a few others chatted away, leaving the Bakugo siblings to walk beside each other awkwardly "how's heroics" (name) said in more of a statement, uncomfortable as he tried to make small talk with his brother "fine" Bakugo grunted as Kirishima went with tsu and Ochaco "babe I'll be right back! Don't follow I want it to be a surprise!"

And then the siblings were left alone as the group seperated to grab the things they needed or wanted and to meet up after for food.

"You two seem happy" Bakugo was rarely soft, the concept of him being calm and tentative was something that would be laughable to anyone who knew him "he makes me happy, I hope I make him feel the same" (name) said simply and Bakugo make a soft hum "I'm glad you're at U.A"

"Didn't you not want me here?" (Name) Looked at Katsuki as they stopped walking"fucking--- I know I was shitty, dad's making me go to therapy with hound dog" this was new, something he didn't expect at all.

"Dad's fed up with the hag, he's forcing basically everyone to therapy so expect a call"

The two sat on a bench, small talk between them as they waited for their friends to come back.

It was strange for Katsuki to say he was finally meeting his brother, on equal grounds and no hostility but Katsuki needed this.

He needed his brother.

"BABE LOOK WHAT I FOUND!" Kirishima barreled in with bracelets "look, it has chess pieces! And you can customize it so I added a barbell!" Kirishima said excitedly as he handed (name) one and the calmer Bakugo took it curiously "this is cheesy" he said simply but the small smile as he put on it made kirishima fly to cloud nine.

Bakugo was surprised that his brother had such an interest like origami, seeming genuinely happy with the variety pack of designs "oo make me a brid!" Kirishima teased and (name) took that seriously and they could see the gears turn in his head.

(Name) Was happy when he returned to his form, putting the bracelet in a safe area with his other important items and sat down, thinking About the conversation he had... Bakugo apologized...

He had to talk to kirishima tomorrow about this.

"Hey shitty hair,.can I talk?"