#someone hold me back tie me to a chair

[kangaracha]

skz + losing 3racha

(this is actually written by @keepswingin, who found out i was saving this for a nevermore oneshot and said 'not if i write it first' and kicked me out of my own house)

---

The door creaks as he pushes it open, the room beyond dark and unwelcoming in a way it's never been before. Minho's not used to this - the quiet, the lack of unopened snacks sprawled throughout the room, the absence of clothes, of beanies, of half-finished verses scribbled hastily on scraps of paper or napkin or an old thank you card from a sponsor. 

The room used to be alive with his memory. Now it just sits, a void of their own making, because attempting to do anything otherwise was something Minho couldn't bring himself to do. Not then, not after, and certainly not now, even if it was the company forcing him to be in here after threatening of doing it themselves. And Minho would never let them do something like this themselves. Not now, not ever, not when it was something that concerned Jisung of all people. 

"Is this it?" she asks, attempting to peer over his shoulder. She's a ball of energy wrapped with anxiety, he could tell from the moment he met her, and he had hated it. Hated how it reminded him of Jisung, hated how it reminded him that the world around him would keep spinning even if his own had stopped still. 

"Yes," he whispers, willing his voice to stay steady. 

He takes a step inside, and can't stop his chest from hitching, the soft exhale that leaves him breathless. The bed is made, stripped of old sheets. The shelves are empty, the desk pushed into the biggest corner wiped clean and prepared with a brand new laptop sitting on top. 

She brushes past him gently and comes to a stop in the middle of the room, eyes flickering across what awaits her. Her hands squeeze into fists beside her, and Minho hears her chest hitch too, but when she turns to him, there is nothing but excitement glittering in her eyes. 

"Thank you," she says, even taking the time to bow. Minho can't bring himself to react, at least not when he's frozen like this, unable to form anything close to words as the odd feeling in his chest tightens more. "I'm so grateful your company is providing me with this opportunity, and that you guys are being so welcoming." 

She watches him for a long moment, and if she's waiting for Minho to say something, he can't, he can't, not when he's in Jisung's room with someone else and Jisung hasn't been here in months, and the last thing Minho ever said to him was something he never should have said at all, and then he was gone, they were all gone, and Minho and the rest of them were - 

"Minho-ssi?"

- left behind.

Minho blinks. He feels like he wants to scream, or cry, or not speak for a long while. "I'm sorry," he whispers, turning towards the door. "Please let us know if you need anything." He closes the door behind him just breathes a for a moment, before pressing his forehead to the wood and closing his eyes. 

He can pretend that it's Jisung shuffling around inside if he closes his eyes.

o

The room is a mess of wires and cameras as he sits off to the side in a lonesome chair, allowing a crew member of the channel they're interviewing for to clip a microphone onto the collar of his shirt. The man doesn't say much as he does, and Minho doesn't really pay attention as he leaves, his mind beginning to drift as he watches someone else struggle with fixing Seungmin's shirt in front of him.

He gets lost in a mind a lot these days, and sometimes he doesn't even realize he's lost until one of the members is gently tugging his attention back to the present, a soft look here, a gentle touch there. Too nice, for someone like Minho, who is the barbed wire thrown over a fence long forgotten. Sharp edges and a sharper tounge, once upon a time. Now, he feels like something lost in the wind, far from home. 

"Okay, we're ready to start!" The director announces, walking into the middle of the set and clapping his hands together. "I'd like to go over a few things before we begin." 

And then he waits, eyes scanning the room, like he's looking for someone in particular. He is, because he wants the leader of the group, the one in charge of Stray Kids as a whole, and Minho doesn't realize that he's talking about him until Hyunjin is beside him and gently tugging him up from the chair. 

Minho turns to him, something hot prickling in his throat. He would spit an insult, before. Now, he simply presses his lips together and allows Hyunjin to walk him over to the director with a stiff smile. 

The director waits patiently as Hyunjin apologizes on Minho's behalf, and then the older man launches into what he expects from the shoot, among some other things. Minho doesn't really listen, simply nodding his head when needed. 

He forgets to speak up, sometimes. When they're filming or out at an event that is mostly spoken in a different language he doesn't care about enough to learn. But he's had to learn, and he's had to lead, and none of it ever makes sense in his head because all he wants to do is lock himself in Jisung's room and never come back out. 

Sometimes he even goes as far as pretending that Chan is still around, only for that cavern in his chest to grow wider when he turns and finds he was never there to begin with. 

"What do you think?" the director asks, curious tone cutting through Minho's thoughts. "You know your group best." 

This isn't my group, he nearly corrects, mouth forming Chan's name like second nature. But Chan isn't here, and Chan isn't the leader of Stray Kids anymore. Lee Minho is the one in charge of the five original members, and the three new ones. 

("To keep the name relevant," a higher up had said to Minho as soon as he had asked about two girls joining with only one new boy, instead of keeping them as an all boy group. "Sales are down, and the media has finally stopped talking about the other three. We need to send a positive message of acceptance in these trying times.")

There's a rope cutting into his chest. He can't breathe. Hyunjin squeezes his shoulder, thumb pressing against his skin hard enough to hurt. It keeps him from crying. He's thankful he doesn't cry. He's not supposed to cry. 

Chan was never supposed to leave. 

"Whatever you think works best."

o

The studio is cold and bare of the energy it used to have when Changbin would be there alongside the other two, spitting curses or lyrics or swatting at whoever had decided to make fun of him in the moment. Now it's home to a revolving door of producers that Minho never likes. 

Some bring lyrics that are too disconnected for singles. Others merely want to pander to the girls, offering them notes that Seungmin and Jeongin were more than capable of nailing themselves. The b-sides don't flow like they used to, and far too many of them are disjointed and heavy in rapping that's too heavy for songs meant to be light. 

The chorography is the only thing that stays the same after all this time, the one thing Minho can still throw himself into without having to think. He's given Hyunjin and Felix more work to do in having to train two girls with left feet, though the new guy wasn't too bad, but they never complained. 

"Good," this producer tells him, waving a hand with a small smile. "That's all your lines." 

Minho wants to say something, anything. He wants to record the whole thing, strain his letters less, hit that note like how he should be able to. But the words well up in his throat, and nothing comes out. 

He nods, and murmurs his thanks as he pulls the headset off. 

The booth is too quiet. The producer is too quiet. 

Everything is too quiet without a voice to tie all of it together. 

o

He stands on the bridge and watches the boats as they pass underneath him, the wind stinging at his cheeks. Every breath fills his chest with cold air, and it keeps him here, and awake, and alive, as he watches the lights of the city blink and flicker in the distance. 

Minho had brought Jisung here, years ago. They had talked for hours, standing on the edge of the universe, even if it was nothing more than the pathway of a bridge. He had smiled so much that his cheeks had hurt, and Jisung's laughter had been the sweetest thing he had ever heard. Minho had hugged him - pulled him close and buried his face in the crook of his neck, stayed there until forever was something he thought possible. 

"I'll never forget you," he whispers against the next breeze, hoping it will carry his words to wherever they were, wherever Jisung was. "I don't think I ever could." An exhale that rattles his bones. "I don't want to." 

He closes his eyes. Listens to the wind, and the waves, and the beat of his own heart. 

Something warm wraps around him, squeezing him tight. It feels like someone he knows. He doesn't open his eyes, afraid to shatter whatever illusion his mind has created this time. And then a hitch of breath, and a small, raspy voice, whispering close to his ear. 

"You don't have to." 

[ciaoteamo]

Milk and Water (Pt. I)

pairings: doppelgänger!Milkman x fem!Reader

summary: One of the newest residents’ very first doppelgänger comes in, trying to sway you into to letting them in. Will you..?

pt.II

art credit (twt: loafuu_chii)

warning: 18+ content

“…what’s the story behind your um… ears(?)” You ask the doppelgänger before you. It was a clone of one of your favorite neighbors actually, her name was Maria.

A woman around your age that you became really close friends with over the few months of you working here.

“@&! !$?&” The doppelgänger let out a series of sounds.

“right, so give me one second” You press the bright red button next to the window and the steel blinds shut with a blaring alarm sound.

You call D.D.D. and they clean up their mess per usual. You once again, you were just thankful you didn’t have to work on that side of the glass.

You check your wrist watch, and happily sigh at the fact that you only had one more hour left to work.

“ mmm, someone’s eager to go home i see” A familiar voice speaks up.

“oh, Mr. Francis” You give the man a polite grin. He gave you a sly one in return. You knew it wasn’t him off the bat. Francis was usually shy towards you, making you want to tease him into blushing whenever you saw him.

Well, you suppose you could kill two birds with one stone. Flirt with the doppelgänger of your crush, and have some entertainment.

“how are you pretty girl” He asks, sliding an I.D. and sheet through the slot.

You examine the documents and identification and beam a smile up at him.

“the date on the I.D. is a little expired hun” You declare. He lets out a small chuckle and leans a little toward the glass.

“mmm, been busy with the milk business, love. must’ve slipped my mind to renew it” He replied. His eyes were low but he still held his sly grin. You leaned back in your chair, with a bored look on your face.

“you’re not like my Francis” You huff and tilt your head with a disappointed look.

His grin faltered and he stepped closer. His breathing had quickened a bit and he took off his hat. “who knows, i could be better” He suggests.

Now that his confidence had depleted a little, you were growing bored of him. You checked the time again and you had 45 minutes left.

“well i’ve gotta get you moving now. it was nice to see such a handsome face though, so thank you” You beam and reach for the button

“you don’t want to do this, trust me” He states with a warning tone. This wasn’t unusual, getting threats after realizing they’re doppelgängers, but being that this one was this aware… they must be evolving.

“and why would i trust you?” You ask out of curiosity.

“i mean look at me” He smirks, one arm leaned against the top of the window. His irises turned from their chocolate brown and into an empty pure white.

“hm” You nod and press the button.

“(Y/N)!” He roared with what you assume was his fist banging the glass.

You call D.D.D. and wait for them to clean their mess, again.

The steel blind begins to lift and you sit back in your seat, checking your watch again but noticed the new pink lighting that shone in.

You furrow your eyebrows and look up in horror as you see blood streaks on the window in thick, and dripping amounts. You jump out of your chair and put your back against the wall.

About 5 D.D.D. workers were piled up, bloody and battered in the corner of the room, and there the doppelgänger was.

Staring at you.

His eyes were low, his shirt was torn, revealing his pecs and the start of his abdomen. He was panting with his (surprisingly still) neat hair and an almost psychotic expression.

“oh no…” He starts with a laugh, still breathing heavily.

“what did you do..?” You cover your mouth with your hand.

“it’s what you did. you got me all riled up.”

He looks down for a brief moment and you swear you hear a zip. He holds his tie and the end of his tattered shirt in his mouth and looks up at you with knitted eyebrows.

His breath fogging up the window as he asks you. Looking like a poor starving puppy. “will you let me in now…? I need your help…” He slightly groaned.

“…what. the. fuck.”

[gojoux]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 “𝐋𝐄𝐓'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓” 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌

Gojo. Geto. Sukuna. Nanami. Choso. Toji. Megumi. Itadori. Yuta.

◈ — 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

“Say no more.” He'd grab your face in an instant and press his lips against yours. He would immediately get touchy all over your body, and for not even a few seconds, he's already slipping his tongue in, savoring your taste with hunger. He'd pull away for a moment before devouring your lips with his own, your mouth would be invaded by his tongue once more before pressing you against the nearby wall.

◈ — 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

“You want to make out? Alright, love. Let's go somewhere private, we can make out there as much as you want.” He'd place his hands on your wrist and lead you toward the bedroom. His lips would immediately find yours, soft but deep kisses at first before it gets heated. He doesn't mind if you want to be on the top or him on the top. Rest assured, he's not giving your lips a break either way. “Now I know what you need to do to convince me.”

◈ — 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

His body would shiver with excitement as he looks down at you with a hungry look. “Come here,” he reaches for you and grabs your body, “You want to make out, do you now? My, my, are you in the mood for me.” He tilts your head with his finger and starts trailing kisses on your neck, nibbling your skin with his teeth, licking and sucking, and doing whatever he wants until he makes sure it leaves a lot of his marks. His mind is filled with dirty thoughts, “I hope you know what you're getting yourself into.”

◈ — 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

“Right here? Right now?” Nanami's eyebrows would elevate at this request. “I should have expected it from you.” He sighs and loosens his tie before leaning back on his chair saying, “I can spare some time for you, love,” as he pats his lap, gesturing you to sit with him. “Let's make it a good one.” He'll place a hand on your cheek and the other on your waist as he kisses you slowly, with no rush, he likes to take his time savoring your lips.

◈ — 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

He would look at you confused, “What's that?” He had no clue what making out is and he's not familiar with the term. Once you explain it to him, he'll nod and hold your waist, initiating the kiss first. “Like this?” He'll kiss you more. “I think I can get used to this.” His kisses slowly become deeper, letting out a few hums of satisfaction here and then. His touches would become bolder as well once you give him the cue. He's never done something like this but he seems to enjoy it with you.

◈ — 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

He'd raise a brow after hearing your request out of nowhere. “So you want to make out, huh? Are you feeling needy?” He'll tease you for it. “Now come here, I'll show you just how good I can be with my lips," he'd speak to you in a seductive tone while looking at you with a sly smile on his face. He'll kiss you all over your face until it's damp from both of your wet lips after the kiss while his hands eagerly caressing and groping your body. He won't stop even until you're breathless.

◈ — 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈

He'd turn a bit red at your sudden question. He is a little surprised with your forwardness but he's not against it. “What did you say? Do you want to make out with me?” He doesn't mind if you kiss him. In fact, he'd like it if you did because he's been wanting to do that with you for some time already. Megumi starts off shy with a few pecks, focusing on your lips and what gesture you like. It's surprisingly hard for him to stop kissing you once he's warmed up.

◈ — 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈

“Eh? With me?” He points at himself. You'd smack his arm which makes him let out a short playful laugh, “Okay, okay, let's do it.” He'd kiss you eagerly, he really wanted to experience kissing someone ever since he was single, and now that got the chance to make out with you is more than a dream come true. He'll circle an arm over your shoulder and the other around your waist, pressing your body closer to him as he focuses on kissing you.

◈ — 𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀

His face would turn red and his cheeks would be flushed. He'd look at you with surprised eyes and then he'd nod slowly. “O-of course, let's make out.” He'd say your name in such a soft way, the most romantic tone he's ever spoken to you with. After a few seconds of looking deeply into your eyes, he would lean closer and test the water with a few soft pecks before the kiss got deeper. He doesn't really know where to place his hand so he just holds your waist as he pulls you closer.

[luveline]

how about spencer x badass reader and they are wearing couple or similar clothes intentionally or unintentionally?? I think that would be cutee

tysm for requesting ♡ fem!reader

"Are you kidding me?" Derek asks, sounding like a kid in a candy store, a crisp twenty in his back pocket. 

Emily follows his line of sight and feels her cheeks apple unbidden, a delighted smile on her painted lips. "Oh, my god." 

"Yeah, Garcia?" Derek asks, phone to his ear, Penelope first on his speed dial. "You need to come and see this. Like, right now. Don't worry, baby, just come and see it for yourself." 

"I don't even know what to say." Emily stares at you. 

You usually dress in line with the other women in this profession: pants that aren't too tight so you can run in if needed, a simple blouse, and a blazer if you're feeling formal. 

Today, you've opted for something softer. It was a slow change, one day you were wearing a cashmere sweater, thin and fitted to your form. Another day, you chose to layer your shirt with a cardigan of a similar colour. 

Right now? You're all Spencer. Your slacks remain unchanged but your blouse has been swapped for a shirt with a stiff starched collar and layered under what can only be described as a grandpa sweater. It's not quite ugly, but it's almost identical to Spencer's. 

What's more, you've swapped your boots for converse. 

Spencer holds the door for you. He's chosen to wear a tie at least, clinging to that last strand of professional business attire. He has two coffees, one in each hand, while you carry a box. He's all elbows as he talks to you, and you, ever his fan, follow every word with a fond smile. 

"Hey, are you guys sharing a wardrobe now?" Derek asks, absolutely unwilling to hold back.

Emily piles on, "It's cute! You're totally an old married couple, you look like my grandparents." 

"What happened to your boots, lovergirl?" Derek asks, nodding at your cons, arms crossed over the back of his chair casually. "Don't get me wrong, I'm loving the sneakers." 

"You guys totally match," Emily coos. "You could be on a Christmas card." 

You smile —you smile, Emily might just call the news— and walk past them to your desk. Hotch has moved you away from Spencer knowing you'll encourage his endless chattering, which places you on a different island of desks next to Anderson and Agent Camille. 

Spencer put his coffee down on his desk, taking off his messenger bag. "Nice going, guys. She brought you donuts. You know, to apologise for calling you both antagonistic losers yesterday," he says, smiling at the mutual horror that crops up on their faces. "The fancy kind, too. She knew your favourite flavours without asking." 

From her desk, Emily can see you've opened the box and offered them to your desk mates, your expression unperturbed. "Just don't touch the chocolate sprinkle ones, they're for Spencer," you say.

No matter what they say, how sorry they sound, you give out the donuts to anyone who'll take one until they're all gone. When Garcia arrives, she finds you sitting in your desk chair with your head leaning against Spencer's stomach, taking alternate bites of the same sprinkle-covered donut like it isn't the most domestic, coupley thing you could be doing. 

Unlike Emily and Derek, Penelope genuinely thinks you look cute. "You guys are like Brangelina," she breathes, eyes wide, her smile infectious. 

Spencer fails to hide a grin, his hand on your shoulder. You're better at controlling your emotion, sliding a small parcelled package across the desk toward her.

"Thank you, Pen," you say. "I like the shoes. They're comfy. And the sweater was a gift." Spencer nods enthusiastically. 

That explains why you'd taken such an offence. Anything to do with Spencer raises your hackles. If you felt someone was making fun of his present to you, you'd defend him with your last dying breath, or, in this instance, punish your coworkers in his honour. 

"I'm sorry," Derek apologises again, "I was kidding! What do you want me to do, you want me to wear a sweater vest too? I can do that." 

You reach back to touch Spencer's side, levelling Derek with an impartial look. Not mad, not sad. Totally indifferent. "That could be a good start." 

Spencer hums. "I think so. You wanna borrow one of mine?"

The barest hint of a smile plays on your lips. "That's generous, Spence. You're a philanthropist."

"I am." He strokes the slope of your sweater-clad shoulder proudly. "You know me, I love sharing my wardrobe." 

[ltbunny]

Blind date with ex-husband price. It was like 4 peoples doing. It was your coworkers' yoga instructors, then the yoga instructors' supermarket bag boy and then his girlfriends who set up the date. How did we even get there?

Anyway, your dressed up, all pretty, excited to meet someone new. It's been a while since you've been on a date, a blind one at that, alot of guys take one look and either get too 'excited' or extremely deflated, both of them are horrible, but it's been a while since you've been on the scene after you finally got over your husband...

Annnndd, it's your ex. Fuck he looks good, fresh trim and his shoulders look so broad, he's wearing his 'going out, need to impress shirt'.. damn, he really wanted to appeal whoever his blind date was... maybe it's not to late to leave, he hasnt even no- oh.. his hand is on your lower back

"Sweetheart!" He smiles in a way that doesn't reach his eyes,

"John..." you acknowledge, looking up at him, "dont call me sweetheart."

"Sorry, love, bad habit."

You roll your eyes, but don't correct him. Is he doing it on purpose?

"Well, red bag," He smiles.

"Red tie," you respond

"So we're with each others company for the night then," He grins and looks at you, sheepishly, "well, that's if you want to continue the blind date?" He sounds hopeful...

He leads you to the table. Obviously, he pulls the chair out for you and gives you a bouquet of flowers, its only the gentlemanly thing to do, he says.

It starts off strained but you find yourself picking up the little things he does that you used to love, pointing out your favourite foods in the menu, listening intently to everything you say, stupidly lovey-dovey puppy eyes as he nods along, his hand on yours, stroking his thumb on the back of your hand, he even said some stupid line about 'me n u' and says soap put him up to it, fuck, you missed his laugh. You find yourself asking about the boys, work, it feels like you and price are just on a date night, like you two used to do before the divorce.

He walks you home at the end of the night, he started with hand holding, and now his arm is somehow around your waist, and he's closer than any ex-husband should be, really. When you get up to your apartment, he looks a little nervous,

"I'm not inviting you over for a nightcap, John."

"I know, love," he says smoothly, "just wondering... if it would be appropriate to end the night with a kiss,"

You feel a faint heat in your cheeks, unsure of what to do... after a few seconds, you nod, looking up at him. You feel his hand tentatively reach out for the back of your head, cradling it while he kisses you, you missed this, the tickle of his beard, his big hands on you, soft lips, soft kisses.

You can feel him actively try to hold back tongue, but the way you open your mouth slightly in the kiss makes him go for it immediately. You feel yourself melt. It's so desperate and carnal, but still so soft, like he doesn't want to push it, but it goes on longer than expected, neither of you really wanting to pull away, eventually you pull back, lips sore, heated faces, you wonder if you should withdraw the nightcap thing and just let him in.

"I had a lovely night, sweetheart, I... would really love to see you again." He says with a flushed face, his hand on your lower back again, going in circles.

"Me too, John."

"Text me, okay? We can go to that tex-mex place you really like, or somewhere fancier," he smiles softly, "I wanna see my woman happy."

"Not your woman, John."

"Yet." He says with a grin, leaning down and kissing you softly again, "thank you for giving this a chance, love, ill see you tomorrow, hopefully?"

You nod, and he walks home with a smile. Can't believe you had such a nice date with your ex-husband, thanks coworkers, yoga intructors, bag boys girlfriend...

(You probably wouldn't think it's so sweet if earlier you saw gaz in the back alley with bloody knuckles, after beating up the guy that was meant to be your date, texting price

'all done, sir.'

'Knew I could count on you, garrick.')

[hotchfiles]

— help me hold onto you • aaron hotchner

fem!reader, unprotected vaginal sex, a bit of angst.

he knew he would be in trouble whenever he turned those keys. what he wasn’t expecting was how big the trouble would be. he had no idea he would open the door to three bags full of clothes and other things he left at your place as the months passed, waiting for him.

“darling? what–what are these?” he asks even though he knows the answer, hoping you want to at least talk about it before making any harsh decisions. you’ve been in a relationship for almost a year now and it works. it always worked.

normally you wouldn’t drink before an argument, still when he gets to the kitchen he sees you calmly sipping on a tall glass of wine, fingers tapping on the table, hair up, face clean but red, you were in your pajamas already, nothing like you probably looked hours before.

“what’s the only thing i asked of you, aaron?” you don’t move, don’t glance up at him, eyes focused solely on how the purplish red liquid moved in your glass, taking a big sip right after.

aaron sighs in frustration, he didn’t want this to become a fight. he was so tired. “i know, i’m sorry–”

“answer the question, please.”

“don’t make promises i can’t keep.” he takes his tie off quickly, suddenly feeling suffocated by the fabric surrounding his neck. that’s why your relationship worked, you knew he was busy and his schedule was unpredictable, so very early on you accepted it as it was, saying you wouldn’t be mad at him as long as he didn’t break any promises. if you’re not sure, don’t promise me you will be able to make it.

first months he wouldn’t promise you anything, too afraid to break it, to disappoint you.

he watches as you take the wine in a mouthful and refills the glass, the bottle now empty and starts getting frustrated, you’re a loud drunk and you’re surely already getting tipsy.

this was the first time he slipped up, it didn’t need to be such a big deal, it didn’t avail to having his things right at the door as if he was getting kicked out. all the other times he promised he could take time off, he did it. just–teens were getting kidnapped, the team needed him.

“we saved two girls today.” low blow. but it was true, he wasn’t back in time because of that, he got on the jet instead of staying back to do that. to save two thirteen year old girls. not some futile reason. it had to count for something.

“i’m proud of you for that, aaron. are you proud of me? for the promotion we were supposed to celebrate with my boss? or are our accomplishments only worth it when it’s about saving someone?” you raise your voice only slightly, the alcohol from the sweet wine getting to you slowly and then all at once.

you always tried your best to keep your voice down when arguing with him, simply because he never raised his, and it could be an endearing feature if it didn’t look like he did it to look like the rational one, the right one.

“that’s not what i said–”

“i know what you said. you want to make the fact you let me down okay because you did a wonderful thing someplace else. that’s not how it works.” you open the second bottle of wine of the night, feeling his eyes on your back. “i want you to leave.”

“you know this is ridiculous, you’re acting like a child.” sore spot. you were a few years younger and that had never been a problem. but he couldn’t go back now, he could see the anger darkening your eyes, your knuckles turning white by the strength you’re using to grip on the edge of the table.

“how am i a child?” you begin slowly and keeping your voice down, you get up finally from the chair you had been sitting, facing him directly, his instincts make him try to touch your arms, but you dodge it quickly. “we had an agreement. you broke it. am i a child for not giving you permission to hurt me again?”

he knows you’re about to snap, your chest coming up and down in rapid breaths, and he doesn’t feel particularly in the right, he knows he screwed up and he’s sorry, but your reaction is out of proportion to him, an exaggeration made to make him feel more guilty than he already does. “i said you’re acting like a child. the one time things don’t go your way and you’re packing me out?” aaron almost feels the sharpness of a slap but he’s quick enough to grab your wrist. “see? proving my point.”

“how many times do i have to accept you screwing up so i can be seen as mature?” you yank your arm out of his grip and go back to your drink, “same times as haley? how many times did she forgive you so you could go around and do it all again?”

lower blow.

hotch feels it right in his core and he’s angry at you for bringing up but more so angry at himself because you were right. still, it is anger nonetheless that guides his next actions, quickly and firmly walking up to you, caging you against the table in sudden movements.

your breath hitches from the surprise, and your attempt to move is stopped by his roughed hands on your chin, firm but never close to hurting. “i’m not leaving.” you wince, not in fear of him, but of how easy he can make your mind go blank when he’s that close.

his eyes go from your eyes to your lips, he notices your failed attempt to conceal the way you licked your lips, he glances at your chest, heavy breathing under your thin pajama shirt, nipples hardening against the fabric.

damn you for choosing wine.

hotch reads your mind almost, but his smirk doesn’t last too long displayed on his lips, your hands pulling him by the neck, a low groan followed by a “fuck this” leaving your wine tasting lips just mere seconds before gluing to his.

eager to get your forgiveness, he is quick to follow your lead, both hands sneaking under your clothes, one down the waistband of your shorts, grabbing hard on the flesh of your ass, the other drawing soft circles on your nipple.

you melt into the kiss, his lips, his hands, his scent, him. and you have no time to feel bad about it, pulled up to sit on the table, legs around his waist, you can feel how hard he is against your wetness.

a pained whimper leaves his lips when you use the new position to grind onto him, needing something, anything against your clit at this point.

aaron sinks his teeth into your bottom lip to get your full attention, earning a loud moan in response, his hands travel your thighs and you pull his shirt out his pants so you can feel his skin under your fingertips, not bothering to unbutton them and working with what you got under it.

his lips travel your neck and your collarbone, “i love you, so, so much”. his declaration comes in between kisses and the sucking of your skin, “please don’t make me leave after this.” it comes in a whisper now, but he doesn’t stop, pushing your shorts down and sliding it down till it drops to the floor with your help.

“just shut up and take your pants off.”

“you know i can only do one of those.” it makes you laugh and you sink your nails to the bit of fat on his side, the tiniest bit of annoyance at how easy he had you in the palm of his hand and how he didn’t even seem to know it truly.

on the edge of the table sliding his hard cock into your folds was an easy feat, pants, shoes and his boxers long gone, his socks stayed on almost making him lose balance as he feels just how wet you are. he drops his head, forehead on your shoulder

“fuck—oh my god, you are so wet, you’re always so wet for me.” it isn’t arrogant, it’s appreciative almost, you move his head so you can look at him, hot, sweaty already, cheeks so red as his eyes were glassy, the mix of lust and love and regret clear in his dark caramel irises.

you kiss him once more, sweet, forgiving and he takes this as his sign to continue, pushing you down the table, hotch holds your thighs for support, plunging his cock into your wet cunt with ease, bottoming out at the first thrust. you enjoyed the stretching pain and you never had the patience to wait.

lower lips between your teeth, you slide one of your hands to your clit, two fingers working your arousal, quickly replaced by aaron’s calloused fingers. you arch your back and moan loudly, “fuck, yes, and move.”

it feels like an order and for hotch it is one, he is delighted to oblige, maintaining the same finger moves on your clit and beginning to fuck your pussy, strong, firm and precise at first.

“honey, fuck—please…” his begging is meant to warn you that if you keep clenching around him he won’t be able to control himself, you almost don’t listen, fingers working on your own nipples enjoying the high he is always able to get you in.

“aaron—i’m… fuck, don’t stop, you’re so good.”

the praising, the guidance, the reassurance, it makes the moans leaving his lips seem like whining, he enjoys it too much.

“yeah? like this?” the way your hands try to grab him is enough answer to him, along with how tight your pussy is throbbing against him, you’re almost there, he can feel it.

his movements on your clit get sloppier, the sight and sound of your wetness against his digits making him go insane. your back arches once more and your whole body begin to squirm, the tight coil in your lower belly finally ripping, “yes, fuck—“ you’re breathless, weak, but you still have it in you to edge him in, “aaron, baby, cum for me, please.”

he would be crazy to do anything but, so quickly you ask him and his hands are hoisting both your legs over his shoulders, getting a new, deeper position, it doesn’t take long for you to feel him filling you up, “i can’t live without you, you’re so, so good for me” his lasts broken words before letting himself go.

you don’t move and neither does he, his dick softening inside you, his hands caging you in the table and his head dropped to his chest, both just trying to recover.

“aaron?”

“yes, sweetheart?”

“you can stay.” he looks at you with nothing but love and happiness and gratitude, “but if you screw up again do not try fucking me into forgiving you, i’ll chop your dick off.”

“you like it too much to do that.” his grin is sincere, feeling finally free to joke around you, he gets out of you and you whine at the loss. “see?”

“bite me.”

“gladly.”

[yuujispinkhair]

Sin for Me

You know that dating Yakuza King Sukuna means he is often busy with work until late at night. But that doesn't mean you can't drive to his fancy downtown office and take his mind off work, at least for a little while. -> This is part of my Blog Anniversary Event (closed). @skunaskitten requested "Sin for Me" by TWNTYFOUR & 7INK. Omg babe, thank you so much for requesting Yakuza!Sukuna!! I miss him so much, and this song is so sexy and fits him so well!!

Pairing: Yakuza!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: smut + fluff Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, sex in Sukuna's office, dirty talk, creampie, daddy-kink. This story is set in my Yakuza!Sukuna Universe, but you don't need to read that to understand what is going on. Sukuna is the Oyabun of one of Tokyo's most powerful Yakuza clans, and reader is in an established relationship with him. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Your heart flutters as you stride down the large hallway of the fancy downtown office. It's long after sunset, the city is wrapped in night, a million little glittering lights lighting it up. And you feel on fire as you approach the heavy wooden double door at the end of the hallway.

The door to the office of the King of Tokyo's underworld. Sukuna's door.

Your man, your lover, your whole world since you met him.

Sukuna is a busy man, always giving his all and always so passionate about everything he does. So intense. He is still in his fancy office at eleven p.m., going through his documents, maybe preparing a new contract, or maybe signing someone's death sentence disguised as a business e-mail.

And you were feeling rather lonely in his penthouse, all alone, sitting on the luxurious leather couch, watching TV, and waiting for Sukuna to come home.

You know he doesn't do it to anger you. He would never do that. But he tends to forget about the time when he is busy with work. And a man like Sukuna has a lot of business to deal with. He is the King, after all.

You can't deny that it's incredibly sexy how dedicated he is to his work. Passionate and ambitious. Just like he is in bed.

But enough is enough. You are here now to take Sukuna's mind off work.

You feel exhilarated, a mix of adrenaline and lust pumping through your veins as you push open the double door to Sukuna's office. You can feel the sinful caress of the red lace lingerie you are wearing beneath the luxurious black coat.

Everything you wear was bought by Sukuna in the fancy designer boutiques of the city. The city that belongs to him.

You are already ruining those expensive panties, already so wet just at the thought of the Yakuza King's maroon gaze traveling over your body.

He is sitting at his mahogany desk, a glass of vodka in front of him, his suit jacket abandoned, his black tie loosened, the upper buttons of his red dress shirt open, revealing some of his buff chest and the sexy tattoos that mark him as the King of Tokyo's underworld.

A pair of beautiful maroon eyes lands on you. An elegant eyebrow gets raised. An amused smirk lifts one corner of soft pink lips.

"Decided to provide me some company, my love?"

You smile at him while your heart beats wildly in your chest.

"Yes, I couldn't let you be here all stressed and alone, could I?"

You lick your lips nervously as you slowly unbutton your coat and then let it slip off your shoulder and fall to the floor, revealing your red lace lingerie to Sukuna's hungry gaze.

His smirk grows bigger. He lets go of the pen he was holding and leans back in his leather chair, maroon eyes never leaving yours as he says,

"Then come over here, angel, and sin for me."

You smile at him and start walking toward him, but his low, velvety voice stops you,

"Uh uh, not like that. Take it all off for me. Be a good girl for Daddy. Leave those panties on the floor."

You can feel your pulse even in your pussy, wild and excited, so turned on by being here in Sukuna's office late at night, the nightly city twinkling outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the King's eyes on you, knowing he wants you. And you are eager to please him, eager to obey his every command.

Sukuna looks like a sexy devil, sipping his vodka while watching you, his cat-like eyes trailing slowly over your body as you slip out of the lacey bra, moaning softly when you feel the air brush over your naked tits. You look at Sukuna with your heart racing as you let your hands slide down your sides, hooking your fingers in the luxurious fabric of your red panties.

Your breath quickens, and Sukuna's eyes flicker to yours.

"Yes, just like that, my good girl. Take them off. Show me your pretty pussy."

You feel light-headed with those maroon eyes on you as you push down your panties, letting them drop to the floor before you step out of them, leaving them behind as you slowly make your way to Sukuna's desk.

He watches you with his burning gaze, taking you in as if you are his prey or the most beautiful thing he has ever laid his eyes upon. Maybe both at the same time.

You are so wet for him, so aroused by the situation, pussy creaming up so much that you feel it on your thighs as you slowly walk over to Sukuna.

The moment you have reached him, his strong hands grab your hips and pull you on his lap. You gasp, so turned on by being in his lap like this, wet and completely naked while he is still fully clothed, smirking at you like the devil that he is, his large hands so warm on your bare skin, his thumbs gently caressing your hips, making lust pool in your stomach.

But he isn't just the devil. He is also your lover, your man. His lips capture yours in a kiss that's equally passionate and tender.

"Kuna…"

Your voice comes out as a needy whimper when one of his hands slips between your spread legs to rub your wet swollen clit slowly, making your hips buck against him, smearing your cream all over his luxurious black suit pants.

You can hear the smile in his sexy voice when he says,

"Yeah, kitten?"

"I want to make you feel good… please… let me.. let me take your mind off work."

"I know, sweetheart, I know. And I guarantee you that you are very successful in your mission. I can't even remember what work is."

Sukuna pulls away from your lips to grin at you while his right-hand rubs those delicious slow circles around your clit, and his left hand opens his belt and pants. You moan softly when he frees his fat long cock, so gorgeous, so perfect, and all yours.

He gives it a few lazy pumps while he looks at you through his long black lashes,

"Come sit on my cock. Ride Daddy until every last trace of stress leaves his body."

His maroon eyes sparkle at you, his low voice soft like a caress, velvety and full of desire, as you gulp hard and lift yourself up enough to position your soaked, twitching pussy over Sukuna's swollen cockhead, slowly lowering yourself onto him, gasping when you feel his thick tip splitting you open.

You cry out softly when you sit down completely on him, taking his whole hard length into you, so deep, so perfect, making you feel so full. Your head is spinning, clit pulsing wildly. You could so easily get lost in pleasure. But you remind yourself why you are here. To take care of Sukuna, to help him de-stress, to help him forget about work. To spoil his gorgeous cock until he can't think anymore.

You lift yourself up again, moaning at the feeling of that veiny cock gliding through your wet heat. Your hands link behind Sukuna's neck, fingertips caressing the stubble of his undercut, and you look deeply into his eyes, gasping, when you sink down again, taking his gorgeous cock all the way into you again, clenching your hot cunt around him.

The low groan falling from Sukuna's lips is all the reassurance you need.

You moan his name as you bounce on his fat cock, riding the King thoroughly on his fancy office chair, taking him in so deep anytime you sink down on his lap again. Clenching around his fat cock, pleasuring him with your wet, hot cunt, spoiling his gorgeous cock like he deserves after a hard day at work.

Sukuna's large hands are on your naked ass cheeks, kneading them softly but not doing anything else, letting you take control, giving himself to you. Letting you ride him and take care of him just like you said you would.

His lips trail over your tits which jiggle in front of his face. His teeth graze over your hardened nipples, tongue flicking over them, making you cry out in lust.

And your horny cries get joined by Sukuna's low moans as he lets his head fall back against his leather chair, hands tightening on your ass, muscular tighs flexing beneath you as you feel his orgasm approach.

"Ah! Yes!! Oh Kuna, please cum in me, Daddy!"

A low growl escapes his lips as his eyes close and his hips buck, impaling you deeply on his gorgeous fat length. You can feel him cum in you, can feel his cock throb in you, shooting his hot seed into you in several strong bursts.

And you are spurred on by Sukuna's orgasm, riding him so sweetly through it, milking Sukuna's cock lovingly until he has given you every last drop of his hot seed. Fucking all the stress out of him. Serving the King of Tokyo's underworld like only you can.

You tumble over the edge a second later, crying out Sukuna's name loudly as your pussy shudders around him, and your cream gushes onto his cock and his fine suit pants, giving him your all too.

His large hands knead your ass gently as he slowly rolls his hips, fucking you through your orgasm, his lips claiming yours in another passionate kiss, kissing your lips and licking your tongue until your pussy stops spasming around his gorgeous cock.

Sukuna doesn't let go of you even when you pull away from your long kiss. His strong hands are sprawled over your hips, keeping you in place right where he wants you, on his lap, on his cock.

The nightly city is glittering beautifully outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, but you only have eyes for Sukuna. He looks so beautiful, his hair slightly ruffled from your fingers running through it, his maroon eyes filled with love, and his handsome face relaxed.

The smile on his face is so attractive and boyish that it makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. A soft laugh escapes his lips before he tells you in that warm, velvety voice,

"Thank you, my love, for helping me take the edge off after such a stressful day. You're so good for Daddy."

AAAHHH YAKUZA KING SUKUNA MY LOVE!!! It was so comforting to write for him again after such a long time!! Thank you so much for requesting him!! I hope he made you happy too 💗

Comments and reblogs would be sweet!!

[inkdrinkerworld]

scenario where reader trips or someone accidentally pushes her into beefy!james but he’s sturdy so he doesn’t even budge but his pecs provide a nice cushion to fall back onto lol

oh oh this is rugby!james and reader’s meet cute!!! set in collage!!

the party was in full swing. apparently rugby was a big deal on this side of town and the university had the best team- supposedly.

you’re not into rugby, you barely understand a handful of the rules but an excuse not to hear your roommate moaning all night wasn’t going to be passed up by you.

you were making your way out of the kitchen when three guys ran past you, shoving you out of the way and into someone else.

“fuck,” you grumble, holding your cup behind you so it doesn’t spill all over the man whose hand wraps around your waist to steady you.

you hadn’t been so lucky, your shirt is wet with vodka.

“you alright?” he asks softly, his other hand reaching to rub your back.

as you look up your heart hammers in your throat. the man holding you is gorgeous.

like carved from marble beautiful. he’s got on round framed glasses that make his eyebrows look even sharper, his brown eyes melty with concern.

his nose is a little crooked but still pretty. and he’s got full lips that look a little too enticing.

“yeah,” you manage to breathe, pushing off him. he’s huge- beefy is the better word. his shoulders are broad, his arms are corded with muscles that you see clearly from his t shirt. “sorry about bumping into you.”

the man shakes his head, the curls he’s got tied back bouncing free from his hair tie.

“s’nothing, those guys are idiots.” his chin juts to the men who’d bumped into you, they’re all currently trying to do some kind of drinking game.

“thanks for not letting me fall,” you pause when you realise you don’t know his name.

“james.” he offers easily and you smile.

“y/n,” you introduce yourself and he smiles too- showing off two deep dimples in his cheeks. god, it’s like the crafted him with not skipping a single detail.

“wanna change your shirt? i think i’ve got my hoodie here somewhere.” james offers easily and you wonder if he’s always so pleasant.

“you won’t miss it?” you ask, feeling like you’re flirting but you’re not sure.

“nah, would rather you have it, pretty girl.”

so you nod, flustered by his nickname and james points to the chairs behind you.

“here,” it’s a black hoodie that looks so soft, and as you take it you notice it’s got the school’s rugby emblem on it.

“didn’t realise you were a player.” you say and james grins- all wide and happy.

“s’alright, i have a helmet on most times, hides my identity.” he jokes and you giggle.

“like clark kent,” you hold the hoodie up to your nose discreetly. “thanks james, i’ll find you tomorrow to give it back.”

james nods, “don’t sweat it, pretty girl. whenever you see me you can give it back.”

james is definitely flirting with you.

james’ name is shouted across the living room and he grimaces, “gotta go, but it was nice bumping into you.”

“yeah it was,” you mumble to yourself as james jogs over to where his name was shouted from. you make it to the bathroom quickly stopping off your shirt and fitting the hoodie on- james smells lovely is the first thought you have.

like roasted marshmallows, vanilla and brown sugar. maybe you won’t rush to give him the hoodie back just yet.

[sc0tters]

Fool For You | Vince Dunn

summary: when Vince sees you with another guy he can’t sit by when you get too close.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, oral (fem receiving), choking, swearing.

word count: 2.38k

authors note: I have never written for Vince until now, so I don’t know if any of this made sense… I like this man though so I hope you guys can sit through reading this.

You and Vince went around in circles.

One month you couldn’t stand the boy and the next you were practically living in his bed.

It was a cycle that your friends couldn’t stand as they watched your heart remain in the hands of the man who didn’t know how to deal with it.

They had brought you out to a bar after rumours of Vince having a new girl in his life came out “I want you to meet someone!” Heidi called out motioning to a guy who had been staring at you for the last fifteen minutes.

He seemed much quieter than what you would go for “hey.” You smiled swirling your drink in your hand.

Tonight you were meant to be saying goodbye to Vince for good as you moved on to someone new “I’m y/n!” You introduced yourself over the sound of blaring music in the speakers.

From across the bar sat on a seat alone Vince was pissed. Watching you smile as the boy you were with leaned down to whisper something into your ear. That little dress you wore was something that the hockey player hated on you.

Not because it barely went over your ass but because Vince didn’t like other guys getting to see you looking the way you did in that dress.

Vince fixed his bow tie as he waited for you to come out of your bathroom “we’re gonna be late!” He groaned looking up from his watch “should I wear these or those?” You asked holding up two different sets of high heels.

The hockey player felt his jaw tense staring at your body from head to toe “you aren’t wearing that.” Vince shook his head getting up from your bed “what’s wrong with this?” You frowned thinking that you looked cute.

It wasn’t often that you got the chance to get all dressed up and you really liked the dress “look I’m not going if you’re going to wear that.” He raised his hands not wanting to argue “give me a sec.” You sighed dropping both pairs of heels as you turned back to your bathroom.

Vince couldn’t help it as that night went through his mind watching you laugh at whatever stupid thing that guy said “are you even listening to me?” The girl who sat next to him scoffed seeing where his eyes had gone.

She was the one who had been rumoured to be his new love connection “you are totally unbelievable,” she added getting off of the chair next to him as she made her way to find someone new.

The hockey player remained sat in his seat until the boy leaned forward to kiss your lips. Vince swore he saw red as he practically took two long strides before he got to your side “hey-” the boy in front of you groaned as he was pulled away from you.

Before they could have a conversation where you could tell Vince to fuck off he instead landed a blow to the boys cheek sending him back tumbling “Vince!” Your eyes went wide as you sent him a harsh glare “c’mon.” The hockey player grumbled wrapping his hand around your arm as he pulled you off of your seat and in the direction of the door.

The humid Seattle September air hit your face “where are we going?” You asked furrowing your eyebrows “get in,” Vince opened the passenger door to his black G-Wagon.

You feet remained stuck to the sidewalk “I’ve only had one beer and I know that you’ve only had one drink.” That was true, despite being at the bar for an hour you had been nursing the same drink all night.

The mental coin toss went on in your head as you contemplated putting up a fight “listen baby, you look so fucking good right now that I just want to get my head between your thighs.” Vince’s words sent shivers down your spine “but I can’t do that if you’re going to be difficult.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw causing you to practically jump into his car.

It shouldn’t have been this easy for him to get you where he wanted it but you were always going to have to try harder to not fall into his hands like putty “what about her?” Your voice was soft as he slammed his car door behind him.

Vince sighed as he turned to face you “she doesn’t matter.” He mumbled hooking his fingers under your jaw “yeah she does.” You nodded letting your lips form a frown.

The hockey player rubbed his calloused thumb against your cheek “you are the one in my car baby.” Vince’s words made your hand land on top of his as you nodded.

That moment felt foreign as his eyes stared into yours “wanted you all to myself,” his confession made you smile “really?” The boy nodded as he kissed your lips.

His over hand went to your leg tracing up your skirt “Vince,” you whimpered pulling your lips from his “what do you say we go back to mine?” The hockey player smiled as you nodded.

The drive back to his was quiet, you looked out at the road for the most part silently hating how wet your panties grew at the thought of what Vince was going to do to you “penny for your thoughts princess?” He asked watching you turn around to him with nothing more than a nod “you were a fucking idiot tonight.” You spat sending Vince a glare.

It made him laugh “‘m fucking crazy about you baby.” He confessed pulling into his garage before his car came to a stop.

Your palms grew sweaty as the boy came around to your side to let him open your door for you “shouldn’t even let you get what you want with the way you acted tonight.” Vince ran his fingers through your hair “thinking you are could find someone better than me?” His words continued as your body pressed up against the side of his car.

A whimper left your lips “why don’t you go be a good girl and go sit upstairs for me?” His hand tapped at your thigh as you nodded listening to his instructions as you made your way upstairs.

You removed your shoes reaching behind your back to undo the zipper “keep on disappointing me today baby.” Vince clicked his tongue as he leaned against the frame of his door “sorry Vincey,” you apologised letting your head drop.

Vince smiled as he walked over to you “don’t be,” he forced your head up to look at him “gives me an excuse to fucking rip this dress up now.” Before you could attempt to protest the sound of fabric ripping made you gasp.

You were surprised at how little effort it took from the boy to rip a straight line down the back of the dress “fucking hell baby.” Vince groaned seeing your matching lingerie that was hidden between by the fabric of your dress.

The boy smiled running his fingers over the straps of your bra “you’re so fucking beautiful.” He cooed pressing a kiss on your shoulder “all mine too.” The hockey player added smirking as you looked at his reflection in the mirror.

Vince pushed you onto his bed watching as your body bounced on the comforter “you know that if I was with him he would already be fucking me?” You blinked repeatedly not enjoying the way your body basked in his sight.

Naturally one of your talents was to piss Vince off as you pressed at his buttons “that mouth is forever going to get you in trouble.” He sighed letting his knees fall between your legs “such a pretty baby.” Vince mumbled pecking your lips.

His mouth nipped at your jaw pressing soft marks against your bone. He moved on the journey down to your core sucking at the valley of your breasts, before he moved to your stomach “fuck Vince.” You cried seeing his eyes staring right back up at yours.

Vince smiled as he was faced with your clothed core “let’s get these off baby?” The hockey player asked hooking his fingers in your waistband.

The thong drove down your legs before he threw it across the room “been waiting to see this all fucking day.” Vince let out a grunt as he placed a kiss on your clit.

The sensitive nub sent shivers up your body “Jesus Vince,” you gasped locking your fingers in his hair as his tongue licked up your slit “just me baby.” The hockey player laughed driving his tongue into your core as it lay flat “don’t stop!” You begged as his lips wrapped around your clit making sure to focus most of its attention there as his fingers curled into your cunt.

It was hot has the boy seemed like he was working for his harder than he had worked for his Stanley Cup win. Vince watched as you drove your hips into his face “you’re so hot.” You blurted out making him smirk as your hands dragged through his hair giving it the occasional tug when the pleasure grew too much for you.

Vince felt his cock grow hard as it throbbed against his boxers “I know baby, I know.” He used his free hand to lightly slap your clit repeatedly “shit Vince!” You gasped screwing your eyes shut as your pussy clenched around his fingers.

Before you knew it you were given a rude awakening when Vince retracted his fingers from your core as he smiled seeing you try to protest “you really think you could act like that all night and then get away with it?” The hockey player let out a laugh as he shook his head “want to finally be a good girl and listen to me?” Vince sat up straight as he ran his hands down your thighs.

You whimpered nodding your head repeatedly “please Vince.” You knew your were getting your way when he pulled his shirt over his head.

Within seconds a messy pile of clothes formed serving as a contrast from his clean wooden floor “don’t know how much I missed you.” Vince’s words were soft as he ran his painfully hard cock over your clit “gor a weird way of showing it.” You mumbled sending him a glare “you’re lucky that I need you.” The hockey player let out a grunt as his cock slid into your cunt.

You needed little to no time to adjust to his size, which was good because he wasn’t going to give you it “fuck Vince.” Your head dug into the mattress as he brought your legs up to your sides “not so mouthy now?” Vince smirked picking up the pace of his thrusts as the new angle caused his cock to slide deeper into your pussy.

Your hips tried to ride his in an attempt to help relieve the pressure between your legs “you really think he could have done this for you?” The hockey player scoffed growing annoyed as he thought back to how that guy from the bar ran his fingers across your neck “could have had you gasping for air like this?” Vince let his hand wrap around your throat as he let his calloused fingers squeeze the sides.

Vince smiled to himself as you nodded moaning when his cold chain landed on your chin “only you V.” Your eyelids grew heavy with your brain only focusing on your cunt clenching around his cock “all yours.” Those words made an animalistic switch go off in his head.

The sound of skin slapping suddenly erupted in the room as your cries of pleasure became a mere background noise to it “shit Vince.” You groaned bringing your hands to cup his as you wanted to kiss his lips.

His tongue dragged along your lower lip “my pretty little girl.” Vince cooed as your soaked cunt squelched each time his throbbing cock drove further deeper into it.

Your head pushed back when your breath went shaky “feeling good?” The hockey player smirked as he saw how swollen your lips had become.

It was needy as you whined “so fucking good.” His hand from your throat went to your clit “let the world hear who makes you feel like this.” Vince always liked hearing you scream especially when it was in your apartment where your neighbour was forced to listen through the wall that stood between your bedrooms.

But his bedroom always made him feel differently as it seemed that his walls soaked in your sounds to then speak of the story later “don’t stop Vince.” You begged as the sensations between his cock and his fingers suddenly started to become too much for you.

As your eyes screwed shut you couldn’t help it when your brain went back to how this always ends, you leave in the morning and to your friends annoyance their same lecture then has to be delivered “beg for it baby.” Vince ordered drawing your attention away from your thoughts.

You huffed your chest out “please Vince,” you cried out “only get like this for you.” Your statement was true as no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t get rid of him.

How his fingers felt on your skin “fuck I’m coming.” As Vince shot his hot ropes of release into your cunt it caused your orgasm to come over you as the boy made sure to fuck you through it.

Both sets of breaths were heavy “did so good princess.” Vince kissed your lips as his cock slid out of your pussy making your body shudder.

The hockey player watched in amusement as his come oozed out of your cunt “fuck!” You almost jumped when the boys fingers scooped up the release and shoved it back into your pussy “had to make sure none went to waste.” Vince shrugged sending you a grin before he came to lay next to you.

Your fucked out state was enough to make him hard all over again “you were stupid tonight.” Your tone was serious as you knew you had to talk about what he had done “for you I’m a fucking idiot.”

[thetriumphantpanda]

I'll Crawl Home To Her | Marcus Pike

Fic Summary | Marcus Pike had been the man of your dreams until a promotion tore your away from him. Four years later, a wedding brings you back together, but it the bubble you've built over this one weekend going to crash and burn just like it did before?

Pairing | Marcus Pike x Bridesmaid F!Reader

Fic Warnings | Explicit. Exes to Lovers, themes of second chance love, references to food and alcohol, descriptions of a wedding, Marcus Pike being a dirty talking menace, talk of contraception, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, semi-public sex, oral sex (F), overstimulation if you squint, allusions to oral sex (M) and mentions of a facial cumshot, mutual pining, flirting, two idiots in love, a touch of angst, basically two idiots who never got over each other have a lot of sex over a weekend.

Word Count | 7.9K (I can only apologise lmfao)

Authors Note | So, two weekends ago I was a bridesmaid and spent the entire time messaging @undercoverpena about how I wished Marcus Pike would whisk me away to the bathroom, tell me how pretty I was and give me a good time.... and this is what's come of this. Entirely self-indulgent but we love that for me sometimes. If you enjoy this, please consider commenting or reblogging - I'd love to know what you think of it! And if you'd like to support me further, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

Moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only - reader is a blank slate. Although if you're interested in the dress I chose for her - it's this.

Divider by the amazing @saradika

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Marcus is still out of breath as he clutches the champagne flute in his hand, chest heaving as his sucks in air to his lungs, “I didn’t mean to be so late.”

“Marcus, buddy, it’s fine,” His friend puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder, he knows Marcus gets anxious when things outside of his control happen, like the delay to his flight from D.C. to London, and then the delay in getting from London to the wedding venue, “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

Marcus nods, chugging down half the champagne in one go, hoping it’ll calm his anxiety a little. He had cursed Mike and Cassie for choosing to have their wedding in England, but Mike’s family, most of them ageing now and unable to make the long trip to D.C. had insisted on it. As he looks around the large reception room, he muses internally to himself that it was beautiful. A huge room, semi-decorated for tomorrow’s reception and dinner. It’s a smaller affair tonight, immediate family and friends for the rehearsal dinner, but he can imagine that tomorrow, once all is said and done, it’ll be the perfect backdrop for their wedding.

“Where’s Cassie?” Marcus asks, looking around the room, finding a distinct lack of the bride and the bridal party Mike hadn’t shut up about over the last few months.

“She’s just sorting the last of the decorations for the ceremony room,” Mike explains, waving a hand to the waitress currently doing the round with a refilled tray of champagne, “She’ll be here soon.” He finished with a wink, which, although is odd, Marcus doesn’t question, just picks up another glass of champagne and stands talking to his friend and whoever is milling around offering their congratulations.

There’s a flurry of conversation that has Marcus turning around a few minutes later, he can see Cassie and her mother, who are pulled to the side by someone from the venue holding up two different types of ribbon, asking which one they want to drape around the columns and which one to tie around the chair backs. It’s not Cassie that Marcus is interested in though, it’s the bridesmaid that follows behind her.

He can feel his throat constrict, a small pit opening in his stomach that’s somewhere between the feeling of dread and excitement. He can feel the palms of his hands starting to get clammy, so he drains his glass and sets it down on the nearest table to avoid an accident. Then, he thinks he might actually pass out when you finally look at him, eyes searching his face and then the glimmer of recognition that you know exactly who he is, remember exactly the last time you’d seen him, and exactly what had happened when you had.

Your leg is bouncing underneath the dining table, food somewhat eaten regardless of the fact that it’s your favourite. You’ve dug half-moon shapes into the palms of your hands and bitten the inside of your mouth enough to taste blood.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” It’s Marcus, sitting across from you, plate cleared, completely oblivious as to what’s about to come.

“I got offered a promotion.” You tell him simply, running one hand up and down your opposite arm in an attempt to soothe yourself.

“Darling!” He exclaims, “That’s amazing!” He doesn’t move to get up, but reaches his hand out, palm up for you to take, which you do, letting his hand softly clasp yours in his own, “Why are you so upset then?”

Taking a deep breath in, biting your bottom lip, you decide it’s best to rip the band-aid off sooner rather than later, “It’s not here, Marcus,” You sigh, “The job is in D.C.”

The smile, the light of his eyes, everything on his face that had just seconds ago been showing joy, had faltered. Much like you imagine your face would have when you’d been offered the job. A significant pay rise, governmental opportunities, bigger clients, a shot at being a proper lawyer for once, but with the caveat that you had to uproot your comfortable Austin life for D.C. and with it, Marcus Pike.

“I don’t have to go,” You follow up with, “I haven’t accepted yet, I’ve got some time to think.”

You feel him squeeze your hand, his other palm coming out to rest on your wrist, slowly tracing the blue veins he can see there, “Look at me,” He asks softly, which you do, the tears that had been forming in your own eyes starting to spill down your cheeks when you find Marcus’ eyes glassed over too, “Baby, this is such an amazing opportunity, you can’t say no because of me.”

Because that’s what you would be doing. Marcus, brilliant, funny, intelligent Marcus, wouldn’t be able to follow you to D.C. There had been some talk about his work in the Art Crimes team with the higher ups, people who were impressed at his success rate, people who wanted to keep him here, send him off to California even. He was at too much of a crossroads to be able to follow you to D.C.

“I don’t want to lose you though,” You sniff, free hand coming to wipe away some of the tears that are falling from your eyes, “I love you.”

Marcus hums, finally pushes himself off his chair, letting the legs scrape across his kitchen floor, until he’s sat right in front of you, knees touching, his palms on the tops of your thighs, warm and soothing, “I love you too,” He says, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek, making sure you’re looking at him, “But this is what you’ve wanted, you’ve been working so hard baby and I’m not going to let you stay here just because of me.”

It’s killing you inside, because you want so badly to ask him to follow you. To drop everything and come to D.C. You’ve been together two years, you’re comfortable together, he makes you so happy, you’ve talked about moving in together, starting a life together, but you know deep down you’re asking him to do something unfair.

“So, I guess your stance on long-distance relationships hasn’t changed?” You ask, tone soft and sad, tears falling down your cheeks.

You watch him as his own tears fall, his hands clutching your own so tightly as he gives you a soft smile, “Baby, I wish I could say yes, I wish I could drop it all and follow you, or promise you we’d talk on the phone every day and see each other every weekend, but you know we can’t do it.”

Biting at your lip, you nod, because you know he’s right. You’re a lawyer, you barely have free time as it is - weekends more often than not spent sat on the couch with him, tapping away at your laptop whilst he looks over case files. It would never work.

Marcus leans forward, presses a kiss to your forehead, then pulls you into a hug. You clutch your hands to his back, inhaling the smell of him on his shirt , watching the light blue turn darker as it catches your tears.

“When do you go?” He asks quietly into the crook of your neck, soft kiss placed to the skin right after.

“A few weeks, probably.”

“Well, let’s enjoy them while we still can, hey?” You nod silently, “And maybe one day, we’ll find each other again.”

“And maybe one day, we’ll find each other again.”

Those words still echo in your ears four year later, like they have at various different points since you last saw Marcus Pike. Leaving had been hard. He’d helped you pack everything up, driven you to the airport, kissed you before security and promised he wouldn’t forget you. You’d text a for a few weeks before life dragged you in one direction and him in another. No-one had quite been able to live up to him either. Sure, you’d tried dating, seen people for a few months before deciding they weren’t quite the man who had almost been able to give you everything you ever wanted.

And now here he is, standing in front of you, pale as a ghost as if he’s about to keel over and have a heart attack. You want to run to him, to fling yourself into his arms and make sure he’s real. You want to press your lips to his, let him kiss you like he always used to, to clutch you to his body and whisper sweet things into your ear, but you have no idea what he’s been doing these past four years - for all you know, you could get closer and find a wedding band across his left finger.

It’s a blessing when Cassie’s hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you over to the side.

“Do you prefer the dusky rose or the blush pink?” She asks, holding up two ribbons that look identical to your eye.

You want to tell her does it really matter, they both look exactly the same. You want to tear your wrist away from her and go to Marcus, but instead you settle for a warm smile and “It’s your wedding Cass, you choose what you want.”

And when you turn around, looking back over to Mike, Marcus Pike is nowhere to be found. Like he was a mirage. A figment of your hopeful imagination. Something conjured up after your mother had set you down at the airport and said, “Bridesmaid’s always get lucky at weddings, you might find your own husband.”

When everyone is called to sit down for the rehearsal dinner, you jump at the opportunity to let Cassie sit down and eat, whilst you get pulled away by the staff to advise on which candles to use for the ceremony room and where exactly to place the flower arch for the best photos tomorrow. When you make it back, everyone is standing, milling around, getting drinks from the bar, which you decide you desperately need.

“A negroni, please.” You ask for after taking a few seconds to peruse the cocktail menu set out. The stronger the better.

“I see your tastes haven’t changed in the last few years.”

You’re pretty sure that if there was a mirror in front of you, the look of shock on your face would be comical, as Marcus Pike sidles up to the bar next to you. Up close, he’s just as handsome as he always had been, except now, he’s got a beard and more fine lines in the corners of his eyes, which means he’s been happy, smiling, whilst you’ve been gone. It makes your heart swell that he’s been happy.

“I wonder if yours have.” You counter, tilting your head towards the bartender who is waiting for him to order.

“Just a beer for now.” He smiles, but at you, not the bartender.

“That’ll be a no then.”

There’s a moment of silence between the both of you as you sip the cocktail given to you, and Marcus takes a swig of his beer. His left hand is wrapped around the bottle, no sign of the wedding ring you were convinced you’d find. You want to say something, anything, but when you go to open your mouth, he beats you to it.

“You look well.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Of all the things he could have chosen to say to you, you hadn't thought it would be that.

“So do you.” You compliment back.

There’s another silence, the two of you just looking at each other. You’re soaking him up, committing him to memory to replace the old Marcus you knew so well.

“Are you here alone?” You ask, playing with the glass in your hand.

You watch as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, “Are you?”

“I asked you first, Agent Pike.”

He tilts his head towards his shoulder in a movement that says he’ll give you that one, “I’m here alone.”

You can’t help but smile a little, biting at your bottom lip to try and hide how pleased you are, “So am I.”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you notice the exact moment those brown eyes that you’re so used to getting lost in darken, watching you as you sip your drink, tip of your tongue jutting out to catch a drop from your bottom lip.

“Is your room completely over the top?” You ask, watching as he swallows deeply, “Because mine is, I’d love to know what the honeymoon suite must be like.”

“Depends what you mean by completely over the top?” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to show you?”

He doesn’t even respond. He sets his half-finished beer down on the bar, takes your almost-empty negroni from your hand and does the same. Then he’s taking hold of your hand, lacing your fingers together like he always did, dragging you out of the room. You turn to find Cassie and Mike, looking at you both as you have to jog to keep up with Marcus’ pace. Both of them are winking, smiling, and Mike even throws a thumbs up your way. You can feel heat rising on your cheeks as you turn your head away from them.

“Which floor?” Marcus asks then you reach the grand staircase in the lobby.

“Second.”

He doesn’t let go of your hand, but takes the stairs two at a time, meaning by the time you reach the second floor, you’re out of breath from running behind him, trying to keep up.

“Which room?”

It’s your turn to lead him now, stepping in front of him to walk down the hallway to room 212. You fish the keycard from the back pocket of your jeans, wasting no time in pushing the door open when the tiny light turns green.

It’s dark inside, but you don’t care. Marcus Pike pins you against the wall, his thigh between your legs, both hands on your waist, and then his lips are on yours. The way he kisses hasn’t changed a bit. His mouth slants over yours, softly at first, but when you open your lips against his, hands clutching at the collar of his shirt, it’s just like you remember from all those years ago. He tastes the same, mint from the gum he always chews, the tang of the beer on his tongue, and that distinct taste that’s just him.

He swallows a groan from you as your pitch your hips down, denim rubbing on denim as he devours your mouth. His hands on your waist trail down just a little, finding the top of your jeans, floating under your shirt just a little to touch the bare skin underneath. His hands are warm and strong as they start guiding you to move against his thigh as his tongue works against yours.

Marcus pulls away from your mouth just as a particularly breathy moan leaves your mouth. It makes you both stop. Stand still. Eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room as you both realise exactly what’s happening. You know you should stop, talk about what’s clearly about to happen, but when did talking ever help anything.

“Don’t think about it,” Marcus sighs, leaning down to trail kisses along your jaw, “We talk after.”

“We talk after.” You say, mainly to the room more than anything else.

Your hands are still clutching at his shirt when his fingers find the button on your jeans. Still as adept at it as he’d always been, he pops the button open and pulls down the zipper, letting his hand trail down, settling across the lace of your underwear, cupping your pussy, letting his fingers trace along skin through lace.

A hiss leaves your mouth as you work your body in time with the slow, teasing movements of Marcus’ hand, “You’ve changed,” You manage to breathe out, your hand coming to the back of his neck to pull his mouth nearer to yours, “When you were desperate for me you’d never tease.”

You can feel his lips smile against the skin of your neck where he’s tracing wet kisses along the skin, hand still feather-light between your legs, “I’ve learnt to be more patient, honey.”

“And if I asked you not to?”

“In all the years I knew you, never once did you beg for it.” He pulls back, your eyes now accustomed to the dark, able to see him better, his voice is low, “Unless you’ve changed, you’ll have to put up with it.”

You grasp his cheeks in your palms, his hand still teasing you, pull his attention to you fully, “Marcus Pike, I swear to all that is holy that if you do not spread me out on my bed and fuck me in the next five minutes, I will die.”

He makes a ‘tsk’ sound, his head shaking in your hands, “That’s not begging for it honey,” He coos, “You gotta ask nicely for it.”

You let out a grumble of frustration, but you have to admit, this new version of the man you knew so well before is enticing. You can feel the way wetness is settling between your thighs, you’re sure if he dipped his fingers down he’d have some smart comment about how soaked you were for him already.

So you swallow your pride, you know it’ll be worth it in the end, “Please.”

“Good girl.”

It all happens in a flurry. One moment you’re against the wall, the next your back is against the mattress, Marcus’ hips pressed to yours as his hands work to push your shirt up and off your body. Your back hits the mattress again and his mouth is on you almost instantly, his lips trailing down your sternum, between the valley of your breasts. Pushing himself back on his knees, he brings his hands to the cups of your bra, pulling them down. Your nipples pebbling against the cold of the air.

His lips are back on you almost immediately, nipple enveloped into the warmth of his mouth, tip of his tongue flicking at it, making your back arch off the bed, pressing further into his mouth. Your hand comes to tangle in the curls at the back of his head, anchoring him to your body. As his mouth works across your chest, you can’t quite believe what’s happening to you. The man of your dreams, the person you always thought you were destined for, back, right here between your thighs, the bulge in the front of his jeans all too familiar to you.

Head tipped back in pleasure, you breathe out into the air, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

He tears off your breast with a wet pop, looking up at you through his lashes, mouth kissing down your body, across the soft of your tummy, he taps at your sides, lifting your hips up to drag your jeans and underwear down your legs, flung behind him and forgotten when you plant the flat of your feet onto the bed and let your knees fall open.

Marcus isn’t a religious man, he never has been, but knelt between your thighs, hands flying to rid himself of his clothes, watching as you gingerly trail your hand between your thighs, eyes on him as you play with your clit, he thinks he might have to start believing. As he stands to take the last of his clothes off, standing at the foot of the bed, naked with his cock in his hand, watching your face, he thanks the Lord for whatever mischief they had to concoct to get you back here with him.

He crawls back up your body, kissing from ankle to thigh, settling himself between your thighs, cock sliding through your slick folds as he lays his body down against yours, one of his hands slipping under your neck, cradling the back of your head, the other cupping your cheek, moving your face to look right into his eyes. He’s so fucking close to you, lips barely a hairs breadth from your own.

“I have to be inside you,” He pants against your mouth, “I promise I'll spend hours between your thighs later baby, but I have to be inside you.”

He doesn’t give you any time to respond, just shifts his hips a little, sinking himself into your aching cunt. You arch up into him, moaning against his mouth as he stills. The hand clutching at your cheek trails down your neck, thumb flicking against your nipple as it travels to rest on your hip.

“Stop squirming,” He pleads, “Please.. Just stay still a minute.”

He feels so right, nestled inside your pussy. The weight of his body pressed against yours takes you right back to all the nights before, locked away in his Austin apartment in the dead of night, making each other feel good, making promises at the height of your combined pleasure to each other that never materialised. You can feel tears settle in your eyes as he starts moving, pulling himself out of you slowly, pushing back in even slower.

Marcus leans down, kissing the salty tears from your cheeks, shushing you, “Don’t cry baby,” He whispers into your ear, “I’ve got you now.”

Your hands are clutching at his shoulders, nails digging small, half-moon shapes into his skin there. He feels just as incredible moving inside you as he always did, but there’s something settling in your tummy, the feeling that you knew so well with him, that you’ve only really known with yourself since.

“I can feel you baby,” Marcus groans into your ear as the thrusts of his cock get a little faster, a little harder, “Clenching all perfectly around me,” He takes hold of one of your wrists, dragging it between the both of you, resting it right where you need it, “I won’t last baby,” He admits, “Touch yourself and we’ll do it together?”

So you do, you rub tight, precise circles over your clit as Marcus pushes himself up, takes your thighs in his palms, pushing your legs back as far as he can. The change in angle makes you cry out as he really starts fucking you now. The only sounds in the room are the slapping of his skin against yours, your whimpers and his groans. You can feel the tightening coil across your abdomen, breath hitching in your throat, you’re so fucking close to coming undone on him.

“Marcus,” You whine, “I’m gonna-” You trail off as he shifts a little more, pressing your legs further back, cock hitting that unholy sweet spot inside you, “Gonna come.”

“Go on baby,” He encourages, “I’ll be right behind you.”

And that’s how it ends. Eyes shut so tightly you can feel tears pooling at the corners, cunt clenching around his cock as you cry out his name. It’s so familiar, the way it feels, the way he sounds, like no time has passed at all and you’re exactly the same as you’d both been four years ago. He’s pounding into you as your body convulses underneath, thighs shaking and toes curling as his hips start to stutter.

“Where?” He manages to choke out, his tone reminiscent of all those times before when he was holding on, teetering on the edge, wanting to know what you wanted.

“I’m s-safe,” You manage to choke out, head reeling from your own orgasm, “The pill.”

He doesn’t need to hear anymore, finally giving in, knowing you’ve fallen apart for him, he’s groaning your name into the dark, you can feel him spilling into you, claiming you, marking you as his own in a way only the two of you could ever understand. He lets go of your thighs, letting your legs drop back into comfort as he slowly drags himself from you, collapsing onto the bed next to you.

There’s a few moments of silence. Your arm is draped across your face, chest rising and falling as you try to suck in enough air to calm your breathing, Marcus doing the same across the bed. You roll over, putting yourself on your side so you can look at him. He’s led on his back, head turned to look at you in the dull light of the room - the moonlight through the window the only thing illuminating the two of you. He reaches out, traces your face with his hand.

“I can't believe you’re real.” He speaks softly, rolling over to face you, pulling your warm body to his.

“I know we said we’d talk after,” You whisper, hand trailing over his waist to rest across his back, “But can we just stay like this for a while?” It’s a soft plead, you don’t want to be reminded that this was probably a bad idea, you want to hold this man in front of you and forget that in a few short days it’ll all be over, he’ll go back to wherever he is now, and you’ll go back to D.C. lonelier than ever.

“I’ll stay here as long as you’ll let me, honey.”

Marcus, against his better judgement, stays with you all night. You don’t talk. You curl up into his side, settle against his body as he wraps his arms around you. It’s inevitable that he casts his mind back to how things used to be. To the history you share with each other. He still, to this day, hasn’t stopped thinking about you, about what would have been if you’d stayed. Would you be married? Probably, he thinks. He’d thought of it often towards the end, before your promotion. Stopped outside jewellery shops, tried to imagine which kind of ring you’d want – he’d even slipped one of your rings onto his own finger, figuring out where it stopped so he could pick the right size when the time came. Would you have children? He isn’t sure, neither of you had ever spoken about it, you’d never expressed a want to have them, but he’s certain if you’d have asked, he’d have given them to you.

He falls asleep, waking up hours later, darkness still pervading. He turns on his side, spooning his front to your back. You’re half-awake when you press yourself back into him, bring your hand up to clutch at his head as he slips inside you once more, his hand holding your thigh up. He breathes into your ear, whispers filth to you as he rocks his hips against you. When you feel his teeth trail over your shoulder, he chuckles when you tell him off.

“I can’t walk down the aisle with bruises on my shoulders, Marcus.”

It’s soft, and he tips you over the edge, feeling you clench around him as his fingers trace circles over your clit, following just behind you, filling you up once more. He doesn’t pull away from you, just settles your thigh back down, resting himself inside of you as you both fall back to sleep.

Then, he’s awake before your alarm. He wakes you with a kiss to your forehead, tells you to go back to sleep when you protest and try and coax him back to the warmth of your sheets. He has to shower he says, has to help Mike get ready, but he’ll be waiting for you, watching you all day. Marcus smiles, really smiles, when you curl over back onto your side, soft breaths and mumbles as you fall back to sleep, and as he walks to his own room and stands waiting for the shower to warm, there’s a feeling of content that spreads through him – should he have fucked you last night? Probably not. Should he have encouraged you to talk more? Probably yes. He knows he’s got his cards hidden, he’s not letting on that this might not have to just exist here, but he’ll keep that to himself for just a little longer.

“So,” Cassie smirks from her place in the make-up chair, artist flitting around her, pressing all number of products into her face, “You and the groomsman?”

“Shut up,” You mutter to her, trying not to scratch at your face, make-up already settling uncomfortably across your skin, “A momentary lapse of judgement.”

She hums, and then moves her focus back to the make-up artist who is tilting her face to put on some blush, “You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” She says to you as you pass her a mimosa, “I know that was Marcus. The Marcus.”

There’s a moment where you feel like a deer in headlights, like you’ve been caught being up to no good, even though you know that’s not the case. Then you turn slowly to her, eyebrow raised, and see her smirking, much to the chagrin of the make-up artist who urgently wants to get her lipstick on her so she can move onto the final bridesmaid.

“He’s Mike’s friend, they went to school together, see each other quite often these days – apparently he always talks about a girl from Austin, no-one could ever compare, he’s tried moving on, done this, done that, but always came back to thinking about the one who got away,” She stops talking to take a drink, “Which sounded oddly familiar to someone else I know.”

She’s not wrong really – Cassie had been a lifeline when you’d moved to D.C. a work colleague turned best friend, who has been the shoulder to cry on whenever dates had gone badly, or even when they’d been good, but you just couldn’t get Marcus Pike off your brain. She told you, like most good friends would, that it would take time, you’d find someone right for you, someone who would take your mind right off Marcus, but it never happened.

“You did this on purpose!” You accuse, but its friendly, because really, her and her soon-to-be husband have only done what you had always wanted to do yourself, pick up the phone, no matter how long it has been and tell the man you still loved him.

“Of course we did,” She chuckles, “Don’t think about it too much,” She adds, “Just enjoy this today and most of all, behave yourself.”

When Cassie walks down the aisle, it’s not her that Marcus is looking at – it’s you. He hadn’t thought it possible for him to find you more beautiful than he had before, but in your dark green dress, slit cut into the fabric to show off one of your legs as you walk, dress cut perfectly to sit on all the curves of your body that he always did love, he can’t deny you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He spends the entire ceremony making eyes at you, smirking when you meet his gaze. He wants to tell you how lovely you look, lean down and plant a kiss to your lips in front of everyone, but he doesn’t get a chance until cocktail hour, once you’ve had your pictures taken and Cassie has insisted on you finally having a drink and enjoying your day instead of flapping about whether she needs anything from you.

“Has anyone told you how beautiful you look today?” He asks, hand settling on your waist as you lean against the bar waiting for your drink.

“Funnily enough, it’s not me most people have been looking at.” You quip back, taking the margarita from the bartender when it’s handed to you.

“I’ve been looking at you.”

“I know,” You smirk, “Pretty sure I ruined my panties stood at the top of the aisle.”

“Because the ceremony moved you so much?”

“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about your face between my thighs, actually.”

He looks exactly like he always used to when you flirt with him like this. Eyes low and dark, mouth slightly ajar like he can’t quite believe you’ve just been so forward. He’s not thinking straight anymore, and much like he had done last night, he grips around your wrist and starts dragging you from the reception room, this time there are considerably more people so you manage to slip out unnoticed.

Instead of heading up the stairs, taking you to your room or his, he turns left down a hallway, tearing open the door to one of the bathrooms. It’s a single stall, lock clicking behind him. You press your back against the wall, setting your drink down on the sink.

Marcus takes three steps towards you, hand slipping around your waist, pulling you flush against his body, lips so close that you can feel his breath on your skin.

“Do you know how sinful you’ve looked all day?” He asks, “Walking around looking all innocent, but I know you’ve been begging to get fucked all day, haven’t you?” You whine at him in response, trying to chase his mouth as he pulls back, “Don’t think I didn’t see you rubbing your thighs together during the ceremony.”

“It’s only because you wouldn’t stop looking at me.”

His hand finds the skin of your thigh, the slit of your dress making it easy for him to trail up to the hem of your panties.

“If I put my fingers on you,” He breathes, “Will you be wet?”

“Why don’t you find out?” You cock your head to the side, biting your lip as you look at him, his hand pulling your panties to the side, thick fingers slipping between your folds.

“Baby,” He moans, finally taking your bottom lip between his, nipping your skin with his teeth a little before he pulls away, fingers slipping inside you, pulling a groan from your throat, “Soaked for me?”

“Always, Marcus.”

He drags his fingers from you, spins you around, and reaches down to bring your palms up to rest against the wall in front you. He puts his hands on your hips, dragging your ass backwards until you can feel him through his trousers. His hands shuck your dress up to your waist and instead of tearing your panties off, he pushes them to the side. You look over your shoulder at him, as much as you can, and watch as he undoes his belt, pulls the zipper of his trousers down and reaches in, pulling his cock out. His trousers are pushed down just enough to let him free himself, and you don’t think you’ve seen such a beautiful sight in your life, than Marcus Pike with his fist around his cock, running his hand up and down himself as he moves to nudge the head of his cock at your soaked core.

Unlike last night, he isn’t gentle when he pushes into you. He’s buried inside your cunt in seconds, setting a pace that punches the air from your lungs. You know that even though you’re locked in here, away from the party, there’s still every chance someone is going to walk past, try the door handle, and hear exactly what’s going on in here, so you’re trying your best to keep the noise to a minimum.

“Needed you so badly, baby,” Marcus chokes out behind you, hands gripping your hips hard enough that you’re sure you’ll have his fingerprints embedded onto your skin, “Always so pretty for me, aren’t you?”

He’s hitting that sweet spot inside you, over and over again, and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from crying out. You feel one of his hands trail up your spine through the material of your dress, coming to rest with a grip around the nape of your neck, his fingers itching to slide up into your hair and grip it.

“You can’t,” You plead, “Don’t mess my hair up.”

“I won’t baby.” He pants out from behind you, trailing his hand down just a little so he’s not tempted to take a fistful of it to pull you back, arch you into him even more.

It’s fast and it’s hard, everything Marcus never really used to be. He liked to take his time, spread you out and have you crying for him before he slipped inside you, slowly, watching every contort of pleasure on your face. You think you like this new version of him, the one so desperate to have you he couldn’t make it up the stairs, couldn’t even pull your panties down your legs.

“Marcus,” You moan out, “Please.”

“What’s that, baby?” He asked, mouth right by your ear, “You begging for something?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“What do you want?”

“Make me come?”

You think maybe he might try and tease you some more, but mercifully he takes the hand he’s got resting on your hip and snakes it down your body, letting his fingers find your clit - he had always been good at that. He drags the gathered slick where he can, cock still moving into you, pulling whimpers and moans whenever you feel his skin slap against yours, circles your clit quickly with the pad of his finger. You can feel your walls tightening around him, your thighs starting to shake as he continues doing exactly what he’s doing.

It’s no secret to either of you that making you come always took time. He’d never shamed you for it, always been more than happy to do whatever it took, for as long as it took, to get you there. But the mix of desperation for him, elation that he’s waltzed right back into your life, and the fact he’s fucking you in a public bathroom, have that coil tightening inside you quicker than ever.

“Can feel you getting tight around me baby,” He groans into your ear, “You gonna let go for me?”

You don’t have time to tell him yes. The tight coil snaps inside you, your eyes closed so tightly you’re sure the make-up around your eyes is dragging down your cheeks on tears. You can keep your voice down now as you flutter around his cock, you cry out his name, feeling his hands holding onto your hips to keep you steady as your legs threaten to fall out from underneath you.

You’re only half aware of him speaking into your ear, telling you he’s close. You can feel him start to pull himself out of you, so you reach behind you quickly, fingernails digging into the part of his thigh you can reach to keep him inside you.

“I swear to god if you get cum on my dress Pike, I’ll kill you.”

He lets out a deep, throaty chuckle behind you, slams himself back into you, “You just want an excuse for me to come inside you, don’t you?” He hisses into your ear, teeth nipping at the skin behind your ear, “You just have to ask nicely for it.”

“Please, Marcus, please.”

Never one to deny you, he does, having held out as long as he could, he thrusts once, twice and then he’s moaning your name into your ear. You can feel him spilling inside of you, filling you up, then you can feel him dripping down your thigh when Marcus starts pulling away from you, not quite quick enough to put your panties back on. He tells you to keep still, fumbling behind him for some paper he can use to clean your thighs up.

He speaks to you as he lets the material of your dress fall back down over your legs, “Walking around full of me for the rest of the night.” He coos as you turn around, reaching out to pull his mouth to yours in a chaste kiss.

You stay like that for a moment, both attempting to fix the others clothes. Marcus brings his thumb to his mouth, letting his tongue jut out to wet it, before he drags it under your eye, getting rid of the worst of the black marks he’s caused.

You reach behind him, unlock the door, but take hold of his hand as you push the door open. Thankfully there’s no-one waiting outside to use the bathroom as you drag him back down towards the party.

It’s late. Or early depending on how you look at it. Marcus had dragged you from the dance floor at midnight, walked you slowly up to his room instead of yours. He’d helped you out of your dress, let you shower and wash yourself clean, then, before you could put your robe on and insist on going to sleep, he’d taken your hand, led you to the chair near the balcony doors and he’d made good on his promise of last night to spend hours with his face between your legs.

“I can’t,” You whine, Marcus hand’s pinning your legs open, his tongue flicking against your clit, “It’s too much.”

He pulls off you just enough to speak, “Believe in yourself baby,” He says, sinking two fingers into you, curling them upwards, “I know you can, just one more for me.”

Your whole body feels like its on fire. You’ve lost count of the amount of times he’s made you come tonight. There had been a small reprieve when you’d begged to suck his cock, Marcus obliging, painting your face and your tongue, before he settled right back to his knees. It’s almost as if he thinks if he stops you’ll disappear.

Your fingers are tangled in his hair, battling between tugging his face closer and pulling it away as he sucks your clit into his mouth, the added pressure along with the flicking of his tongue setting your skin on fire even more than before. Your hair is sticking to your forehead and the back of your neck, rivulets of sweat gathering at various points across your body as Marcus tips you over the edge once more.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, body feeling boneless as your whole body convulses at his touch. Almost like he knows, he pulls himself away from you gently, knowing that any more would be too much, saving you the need to beg him to stop. He presses soft kisses to the skin of your tummy, kissing up your body until he’s sitting up on his knees, kissing into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on him.

Marcus clambers to his feet, takes hold of your hand and pulls you to your feet, guiding you over to the bed to settle you under the sheets, the air peppering your sweaty skin with goosebumps. It’s a sad realisation that you have to go home tomorrow, that the bubble you’ve caught yourself up in over the past few days is about to burst. You think this might break your heart even more than the first time around.

“What are we going to do?” You ask against the skin of his chest as he pulls you into him.

“What do you mean?” He asks back, kiss pressed lightly to your forehead.

“With us, after this?” Your fingers are tracing over his skin, trying to map the feeling of him before he leaves.

“Well, I thought maybe we could go for dinner sometime?”

You look up at him, face contorted in confusion, “You’re going to come all the way from Austin to take me for dinner?”

“No baby,” He chuckles a little, “I don’t live in Austin anymore, I live in D.C.”

You push yourself up in bed, one hand on the mattress to keep yourself upright, looking down at Marcus, who reaches up to cup your cheek in his hand, thumb rubbing soft lines across your skin, “Since when?”

“Two years?” He offers, “I would have-” He trails off a little, “I would have told you but I wasn’t in a great place when I first moved, had no idea what your life would have even looked like either, I didn’t just want to turn up out of the blue if you’d moved on, found someone else.”

Your hand comes up to clutch at the wrist of the arm cradling your face, “I’ve waited so long for you,” You sigh, “I tried, tried to find someone else, but none of them were ever you Marcus.”

“I tried too,” He admits, because Lord knows he did, and for what? “I promise I’ll tell you everything one day, but right now, I want to fall asleep with you right here.”

You settle back down in bed, curling up against his side, arm draped over his waist, “Where in the city do you live?” You ask, sleep starting to make your eyes heavy.

“I’m on 4th street, in Petworth.”

You can’t help but laugh, because of course he fucking does. Marcus Pike has been living four streets over from you for the past two fucking years.

“You’ve been living four streets over from me for two years, Marcus.”

He runs his hands up and down your spine, gently, soothing you, “Well, that’s convenient, isn’t it?” He asks softly, “I can be at your front door in five minutes.”

“You want to be my booty call, Marcus Pike?”

“If that’s what you want,” He speaks, “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“What are you doing Wednesday night?”

“Nothing, as far as I’m aware.”

“How about you take me on a first date?” You offer, “Let’s learn each other all over again and take things from there?”

Marcus colts your chin up to his face with a finger, leaning down and giving you the softest kiss you think you’ve ever received, “I would love nothing more.”

[cypherthesuccubus]

I’m not done with you yet….darling~

Alastor x Reader -Part 1- (NSFW) (MDNI)!!!!

WARNINGS: smut, blood kink, bondage, slight S&M, Dom/Sub, rough rutting, mate marking, leash play/ownership, slight degradation, praise kink, body worship, ass worship, cock worship, she/her pronouns, vaginal sex, creampie, facial

Other Tags: Fluff, Angst

Note: Reader will receive aftercare

I hope you guys like this!! I’m not the best writer, but I wanted to write something for y’all. Enjoy Part 1~😈 @starlightdreaming and everyone who voted 🥰

The sound of smooth jazz was playing softly through the dimly lit room. The fire place and a simple floor lamp being the only light source to help see through the darkness. Shadows danced around the room almost as if they are anxious to do more than outline the elaborate decor. In the corner of the room was a lush scene of a forest with tall trees and thick grass coating that part of the hard wood floor. In the middle of the forest scene sit an elegant little table and chair; resembling something you would see at a luxurious cafe. A ominous figure; sitting cross legged in that chair; humming the tune that was playing while tapping his foot that touch the grass floor. Setting his mug down on the table; flipping through the news paper. Alastor hums at the current topics being discussed; finding them amusing that such things would even make it into the papers. Proper entertainment was a thing of the past it seems. He wished he could drum up some chaos like old times, but he knew he couldn’t on account of Charlie and the others. Where’s Mimzy when you needed her to bring the fun around? Oh well~ there’s only so much he can do when he has other priorities to attend to. Soon enough he’ll be able to find some proper entertainment eventually, but of course right now, Charlie is currently hosting a group activity downstairs to welcome a new guest to the hotel. Better not disappoint and make a bad impression on the new arrival. Putting the paper down while fixing his bow tie; Alastor stands and makes his way towards the bedroom door; putting alittle pep in his step while folding his hands behind his back; holding his staff while putting on his signature awarding winning smile like always.

(Y/N’s P.O.V)

“A shot at redemption didn’t sound so bad. Maybe I should give it a chance before I make any rash decisions.” I thought as I approach the newly refurbished Hazbin Hotel. Funny name for a hotel, but I guess it fits. I didn’t even have a chance to knock on the door as it was yanked wide open. There stood in the doorway was Ms. Sunshine herself; Princess Charlie. She definitely was much taller in person that’s for sure. Her smile was definitely the brightest thing to ever grace hell with its radiance. Hard to believe someone as bubbly and sweet like this was born here in hell. “HEY THERE!!! WELCOME TO THE HAZBIN HOTEL!!!! I’m Charlie and I’m here to give personally give you a tour of this place!!!” She basically announced with so much excitement. I’ve never thought in a million years that there would be a chance to be redeemed after death. I mean if the angels could be killed, maybe redemption was possible too. Charlie takes me by the hand and leads me into the lobby where a little group demons were already gathered; sitting on the couches or on the floor. Almost like they’re having some sort of circle time. Charlie then leads me to the group and sits me down; facing the coffee table that’s sitting in the middle of the circle. “But before the tour, we had a planned group activity today where we all introduce ourselves. Since you’re right on time, did you want to go first new friend?” I shook my head “No I can go last…I don’t mind waiting to know everyone else first.” She gave me a reassuring smile and pats me on the back “Ok no problem!, you take all the time you need to prepare.” I sighed in relief. I’m not that great with introductions and being a little on the shy side was not easy either. I want to make friends, but sometimes I could never find the words to say. So often I tend to clam up if I’m too anxious. The intros started off with Charlie of course as she talked about her interests and what made her the most happy.

Then it went down the line with Vaggie; Charlie’s girlfriend; making her intro. Then it was Angel Dust after her; he definitely made me laugh with his sex jokes and constant flirting with this guy Husky? Turned out it was actually Husker; Husky was one of the many names Angel calls him to annoy the fuck out of him really. Then it was this cute little thing called Niffty. She reminded me of a doll from how tiny she was; just simply adorable. Then it was the emo punk like girl with a high ponytail; she called herself Cherri. I think I like her too just as much as Angel Dust. It seemed like they were already besties from how they interacted with each other. I hope they can consider me as a bestie too cause honestly they seem like they know how to have fun. It would probably help tremendously with this shyness of mine to get to know people better. Just then I felt a shift in my hears as if like on an airplane with the shift of pressure. Static like feelings was going up and down my body as if being shocked gently. In the corner of my eye I see this shadow rise from the ground to form a figure that looked to have deer like ears and two tiny antlers on top of the head along with a microphone like staff being held behind this figures back. The shadows finally disappeared to present the one and only Radio demon himself.

Dressed in his red pinstriped coat with black and red cuffed slacks to match his recently shined shoes. His black bow tie sat perfectly at the neck; making him look like the distinguished gentleman he made himself to be. His wide smile; unfaltering while it slightly glowed along with his ruby red eyes from him standing in the dimmer part of the lobby. Giving him an almost eerie appearance like a predator looking for its next meal. He approaches more into the light of the lobby now getting a better view of him in detail “Hello everyone! I do apologize for being a little late. I had some urgent errands to take care of, but now I’m finally here like I promised.” Charlie looks up at him and clasps her hands together “Oh perfect! We’re just going through the introductions now. Everyone pretty much just went through theirs except you and our new friend here.” She gestures to me with a cheery grin. That’s when his eyes finally locked on me. I looked at him back and instantly regret it. Once I locked eyes with him it seemed like his smile grew wider as his eyes darted down then back up. I looked down into my lap to hide my now flushed face. I swallowed hard from anxiety I felt at that moment. If he was the predator then he is definitely making me feel like the prey right now. It didn’t help he was also handsome to boot; making me all the more nervous. “Oh wonderful! Well the name’s Alastor my dear! A pleasure to be meeting you!” I look back up to him as to not be rude of course. When will I ever learn? He leans down in a bow staring straight into my soul with half lidded eyes; grin growing wider as he spoke in a lower almost sultry voice

“Quite the pleasure~”

(Alastor’s P.O.V)

How curious? As soon as spoke my usual greeting, this new guest instantly turned red and buried her face into her hoodie. I could have sworn I also heard a faint high pitched whimper as well. Interesting~ Charlie then speaks up “Ok Alastor!, now tell our new guest what you like to do for fun, and what makes you the happiest!” The annoying one, Vaggatha, turned to her “Charlie I don’t he’s gonna admit anything like that to us.” For someone who is as irritating as her she’s actually right for once. “Indeed so!” I look towards the new guest again; the feeling curiosity took over again, but this time I wanted to push it just a little bit….further. “Cause that is for and only me to know….buuuut~” I lean down once again as she just peaked her head out again “if curiosity gets the better of you…then who am I to stop you if you have “a little death” wish~” WHAT. DID. I. JUST. SAY?!?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!?!?! I WOULD NEVER SAY THIS!!!!! NOT TO ANYONE!!!! As soon as I said it, she let out another whimper this time; only it was a bit louder that everyone could hear it this time. She buried herself deeper into her hoodie realizing what she did. Looks like I’m not the only one embarrassing themselves at least. But seriously?!?! “a little death?!?!” I’ve never made innuendos like that?!?! I even shocked Angel for heaven’s sake?!?! Charlie then breaks the silence giggling nervously “Ahaha…ok how about this. New friend how about you just your name for now and we can go on that tour I promised earlier.”

She peeked one more time; nodding as she spoke with a voice almost like silk. “M-my name is (Y/N)….it’s nice to meet you all.” Charlie smiles at her “I love that name! It’s very pretty! It really suits you.” She approaches her and helps her off the floor “Ok everyone thank you for being apart of today’s activity today! We’ll see you all at dinner.” Everyone disarrayed from the circle and headed their own ways as I made quick haste into the shadows; transporting back into to my quarters. I start to pace the floor, running my fingers through my hair; trying to figure out why I made such a display in front of everyone no less. This was not like me at all, and I don’t understand why; which pisses me off the most!!!! Is it because I’m about to go into season?!?!? No it couldn’t be. I’ve always known how to maintain it really well. I’ve been around for a long time, and my seasons have never been an issue for me to control. Even when completely surrounded; still proved no issue. What is going on?!?! I take a deep breath and adjust my bow tie; dusting off my coat. I just need to keep my distance for a couple of weeks and maybe this will blow over when my season ends. Even if it isn’t, I’m still not taking any chances. No one will know about this…..not even her. I am the Radio Demon, feared by all and it should stay that way.

[7ndipity]

Bts As Subs

Sub!Ot7 x Dom!Reader

Summary: Headcanons about how the members would be as Subs

Warnings: +18 mdni, smut. Swearing. Mentions of dom/sub dynamics, bdsm, oral(f. and m. receiving), handjobs, edging, overstimulation, degradation, thigh riding, pegging, petplay, dacryphilia, marking, slapping, scratching, aftercare. Not proofread.

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! Working on this actually helped a lot with my writers block and gave me waay too many ideas for fics👀 But I hope you like ‘em!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin:

Is either the sweetest, best behaved baby boy or an absolute brat, depending on his mood.

Loves to run his mouth just to get a rise out of you, whining and complaining about your teasing, but turns into absolutely mush once you get him under you.

Likes when you tie him to the headboard and jerk him off while sitting on his lap, close enough to still kiss him but not letting him touch yet, letting him cry into your neck when he finally cums all over your hand.

He’s so loud and whiny, it almost sounds like he’s singing until his voice cracks.

Someone mentioned this on his nsfw list, and I had to mention it here, he has a slight oral fixation and needs access to your chest while you ride him, sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks(which he says he’s sorry for, but you know he isn’t really)

Lowkey masochistic and enjoys punishments, loving when you mark and scratch him up, or edge him till he cries.

But what he really loves when you just ride him soft and slow, moving just fast enough to make him needy, but not letting him cum, edging you both till he’s desperate and pleading to cum.

Yoongi:

Turns into the sweetest, vulnerable little kitten. You can always tell when he’s feeling subby from the way he buries his face in your chest or your neck, in both sexual and nonsexual situations. He's just so soft and just wants to be taken care of(pls protect him🥺)

So fucking whiny, but he tries to muffle them, biting his lip and scrunching his face up so hard, he almost looks in pain(until you bite/suck the sweet spot on his neck and he just starts wailing).

Prefers things to be half kinky, half vanilla(the vanilla stuff is always what makes him cum tho)

Like, he enjoys when you’re mean and tease him, but he really can’t handle much degradation, so it needs to be combined with a lot of sweet words and kisses.

Cries so prettily when you peg/breed him.

Is slightly embarrassed at how quickly he cums from thigh riding, hiding his face in your neck as his hips stutter against you.

Needs a fair bit of aftercare to ground him and help him come back down, mainly just sitting and holding each other.

Hobi:

Ooh the range of this boy😍, he's always so bright and eager, and tries so hard to be a good boy it’s almost painful, how could you not reward him?🥺

Loves it when you’re rough with him, wanting you to slap, scratch, mark, and degrade him, etc. He’ll take it all with a smile.

Tie him up and and tease him by making him watch while you touch yourself, his poor cock twitching and leaking with every noise you make(he may have broken a chair from pulling so hard on his restraints)

Absolutely melts tho when you’re soft with him, holding his hands while you ride him, caressing his arms and chest while leaving kisses all over his face.

Loves it when you edge and overstimulate him.

Needs lots of cuddles and praise afterwards, usually falls asleep on your chest.

He's just so cute and needy, literally everything you do turns him on. You’re cuddling? He’s hard. Dancing around the kitchen? Hard. Folding laundry? Hard.

Loves when you do extra little things to take care him or buy him lil gifts, it makes him feel special and appreciated!

Namjoon:

Honestly, it takes so much work for him to let go and fall into a sub headspace, but once he does, he turns into such a clingy baby.

Like normally he looks kinda intimidating, but deep down he’s just a giant teddy bear.

You’re gonna need the cuffs for this one, for multiple reasons.

He gets so impatient sometimes and almost involuntarily tries to take over, bucking up into you or gripping your hands/hips to guide your movements.

He literally has to have his hands on you at all times, whether that grasping at your waist hips, groping your chest, or just holding your hands(not letting him touch you in one the biggest punishments for him)

Will actually beg to taste you or for you to ride his face, like he needs to be between your thighs, however brief it may be, or he’ll sulk.

As vocal as he is when he doms, he goes almost non-verbal when he’s really in sub-space, only letting out little whimpers and whines of your name.

Actually prefers looking after you during aftercare to help him come down, needs a fair bit of reassurance afterwards. “Did I do good?”(of course you did, you djehfksjdkwjf)

Jimin:

The best behaved boy. Choke him, cuff him, blindfold him, he’ll take whatever you give him and say thank you🥺

Not exactly a brat, but he can’t resist making sassy little comments to rile you up sometimes when he wants to be punished.

On the flip side, he’s very much a people pleaser and has a massive praise kink, so he needs to hear that he’s doing good and making you happy.(could probably cum untouched from just you petting and praising him)

Lets out the prettiest whines and moans when you ride or peg him

Loves dressing up for you, whether in pretty little lingerie pieces, or a shirt/outfit in your favorite color for date night.

Lowkey sugarbaby vibes. He gets so blushy and smiley when you buy him lil gifts like jewelry or accessories and always makes sure to wear them for you cause he’s your pretty little baby.

Has a slight oral fixation and tends to fall asleep while sucking on your chest, fingers, or even your neck.

Taehyung:

Puppy. Just an absolute puppy, like actually call him that pls, he will dissolve.

He is slightly into petplay, but nothing too extreme, mainly just a pretty collar for you to pull him around by or to hold onto while he rides your strap-on.

Definitely has his bratty moments every now and then, but he really can’t handle a lot of punishment, so he’s always super apologetic.

Lowkey voyeuristic, loves the idea of someone seeing or overhearing the two of you together and just how much of a mess you make him.

Dresses up for you, whether that’s lingerie or just a sweater you really like on him(tho he will come to you wearing nothing but that, like a reverse of the ‘wearing their shirt’ thing)

He's surprisingly good at keeping edged and overstimulated, so he can handle and actually really likes long, drawn out handjobs.

Really likes non-sexual shows of dominance from you. Like when you treat him to meals/drinks, or hold onto him to guide him around, it makes him feel cared for.😊

Jungkook:

Right on the line between good boy and brat. He likes to run his mouth and challenge you, but once you start doling out punishments, he turns into the softest baby. “I’m sorry Jagi, I’ll be good, I promise. Please still let me cum!”🥺

Super unsubtle and touchy when he’s in a subby mood(tho, he’s not exactly subtle the rest of the time either, so), kneading your hips as he grinds against you, pleading softly for you to please come help take care of his ‘problem’.

So fucking squirmy, he can’t keep still even if he tried, hips bucking and twitching involuntarily with every little touch.

He’s just soo sensitive and cums super fast whenever he subs.

He’s very middle ground on kinks and everything. He likes a lot of the harder stuff like bondage and degradation, but he needs some softer treatment mixed in and a lot of aftercare to balance out or else he’ll feel bad.

He actually really loves it tho when you make him cry from teasing and overstimulation.

Lowkey loves when you look after him in non sexual ways, making sure he’s alright and letting your protective side show through.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (2)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of illegal activities/mafia business/murder, strong reader, mentions of breeding/surrogate, wish for children, shady deals, shitty boyfriend, reader doesn’t take shit from no one, tension, sexy mobsters

A/N: We get to know what happened before the party.

Indecent Proposal (1)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

You look at Steve, holding his gaze, “I’ll be yours if you get rid of him…”

Three weeks before the party, …

“Sirs, Mr. Barnes, Mr. Rogers,” Scott nervously tugs at the tie around his neck. He hates ties and suits. This can’t be helped. His goal is to get a better, more important, position within the organization. 

“Why are you wasting our time?” Bucky grumpily says. He slams a manila folder shut and sighs deeply. “We have better things to do than talking to one of our lower-rank minions…”

Steve stops his husband and partner before he can rip Scott apart.

“Please excuse my husband. He’s in a bad mood. The surrogates we interviewed so far didn’t reach our expectations.”

“Steve, he doesn’t need to know shit about our life,” Bucky huffs as his husband just spilled that they are trying to have a baby. 

“Surrogate, hmmm…I guess it’s hard to find the perfect woman. She can’t be too old or have a jealous man by her side. I never was jealous.” Scott babbles. “Shesh, I hope my girl doesn’t want children so soon.”

Bucky furrows his brows at Scott’s words. 

“I can tell, she’s a horny bitch every time she comes home after spending the day with her friend's kids. She begs me to breed her, and give her a baby,” Scott misses the look Steve and Bucky share.

“What?” Bucky questions. “Your girl wants a baby?” He tosses the manila folder into the bin. “Steve, a word…”

Scott waited patiently for the heads of the mob to call him in again. He steps back inside the room, eyes trained on the floor as Steve and Bucky watch him like hawks.

“Mr. Lang,” Steve clears his throat as his husband stares at the manila folder again. “We have something in mind you can help us with.”

“You do?” Scott excitedly says. “Yes. Of course! I’ll do anything!”

“It’s pretty easy,” Bucky sits on the plush sofa opposite the chair Scott occupies. “We are looking for a surrogate, and your girlfriend gets horny imagining having a baby.”

Scott dumbly stares at Bucky. He doesn’t understand a single word the mobster said. 

“What my husband tried to tell you is that we want your girl to become our surrogate,” the blonde casually says. “You will get a better position in our organization and more money than you could ever spend. In return, your girlfriend will become our surrogate.”

“Surrogate…” Scott licks his lips. “So…she will go to a doctor and stuff?”

Bucky smirks darkly. “Oh, no,” he shakes his head. “We are doing this the natural way. Your pretty girl will get to cum all over our cocks. We will breed her like the whore she’ll be for our cocks.”

“You want…oh,” shifting in his seat Scott considers his options. You are only together for a few months. He’s not in love but likes having someone to fuck around. You’re replaceable to him. If he plays his cards right, he’ll be a made man in no time. “I’ll talk to her, Sirs.”

Steve nods slowly while his husband grins wolfishly. “We need to check on her medical records first. Give us a few days. If she’s a match, we will give you a call.”

Three days later, …

“Mr. Rogers, Sir,” Scott tries to calm his racing heart. “She’s a match? Really? I mean, you want her to have your baby?”

Steve explains that you are compatible with them. He hides that you are perfect and that his husband can’t think of anything else than putting his hands on you since he got a glimpse of you some weeks ago.

“A party? Yes. That’s the perfect opportunity. I’ll talk to Y/N. She will love becoming your surrogate. And…uh…maybe we can talk about the new position too. You said something about money too.”

“You’ll get what you deserve,” Steve sarcastically says. He can’t believe Scott offers you on a silver plate to them. Not that he would complain. It’s easier this way. 

If you come to them on free terms, they can seduce you, and offer a better life to you instead of taking you with them by force.

Meanwhile, at Steve and Bucky’s mansion, …

“She’s perfect, Stevie,” Bucky swoons as he looks at the wall, plastered with pictures of you. “I think we found our girl.”

“Her medical records look good too. The doctor said she was a perfect match. In any way,” Steve looks at one of the pictures, licking his lips. Scott took it for them. You are only in your nightie and smile coyly at Scott. “We need to be quick before that idiot gets the chance to breed her.”

“We won’t give her back, right?” Bucky furrows his brows. “Right? She’s going to be our girl. I want to breed her more than once. I’ll always keep her full of our babies.”

Steve smirks at his husband. “Of course, we won’t give her back. She’s going to be ours, baby. No one will take her away from us. After she had our cocks for the first time, she will be addicted either way.” 

One week before the party, …

“A party? Scott,” you sigh deeply. “I told you that my friends invited me to a lady’s night. Why didn’t you tell me about the party earlier? I don’t have a dress for such a fancy event.”

“I got you a dress, shoes, and lingerie,” he points at a huge box on the bed. “You don’t need to take care of anything. Just look sexy and pretty as always.”

Your eyes widen at Scott’s thoughtfulness. Until today, you never thought he’d be more than a fling. Scott is cute, and you like his sense of humor. But he’s immature and selfish most of the time.

“Okay, then,” you softly say. “I’ll call my friends and cancel our plans.” You gasp when you open the box to see the most beautiful dress you have ever seen. “Scott, the dress looks so expensive.”

“Don’t sweat it, babe,” he grins. Scott hides that Steve and Bucky chose the dress and paid for it. “Only the best for my girl.”

Now, Steve and Bucky’s office, …

“Babe, you don’t mean that,” Scott splutters. He raises his hands in surrender and pleadingly looks at you. “Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes, we had a deal. I thought you always keep your word!”

“We do,” Bucky gets the gun out of his shoulder holster, “always. The problem is,” he unlocks his gun to press it to your now ex-boyfriend’s chest, “you lied to us.”

“The deal was that you talk to her and that she knows about the deal. You dared to put her in a situation like this. What did you expect? That we bend her over and take what we want?” Steve growls, making you whimper.

Their alpha behavior makes you hornier than it should. You press your legs together, fighting your arousal. “I’m not some whore you can offer to your buddies,” you mutter under your breath. “I can’t believe I canceled my lady’s night for you!”

“Babe, please…they are going to kill me. I’m sorry, okay,” he begs again. “We can talk things out. You only need to let them breed you once. For me…”

“Fuck you,” you throw your clutch at Scott. “I won’t ride dick only because you beg me to do so. I’ll fuck them to get off, not to help you make a career.”

“Doll, you need to calm down,” Steve purrs in your ear. He possessively slings one strong arm around your waistline to press your body to his. “We don’t want a quick fuck. You are going to be ours.”

“Forever,” Bucky adds. He looks over his shoulder to watch his husband grind into you. “Steve, slow down.”

“I only try to keep our sweet doll from hurting herself,” the blonde pecks your neck. “We are going to do all the dirty work for you from now on.”

“How do you want us to get rid of him?” Bucky pokes your ex-boyfriend’s chest with his gun, snickering as Scott wets himself. “Please tell me I can use one of my knives.”

You gently touched the arm around your body, patting it. “I want to get to know you better before we…” You lick your lips. “I’m not going to be only a hole you can fill.”

“Baby doll, you are going to be so much more,” Bucy turns around and places his gun on the desk. He steps toward you to cup your face and claim your lips in a soft kiss. “Steve and I will ruin you, sweetness.”

“Hands up, and do not move!” Scott took the chance and grabbed Bucky’s gun. He aims it toward you and Steve. His hands tremble, and he struggles to aim at Steve, not you.

Bucky smirks darkly. “I guess this means I can use my knives…”

Scott pulls the trigger, but nothing happens. He pulls it again, and again until Bucky slaps the gun out of his hands. “Did you honestly believe I'll use a gun in front of the future mother of our children?” He grunts. “You are dumber than I thought.”

“You idiot could’ve hit me!” You snarl in Scott’s direction. “What the fuck!” He stammers a meaningless apology. You know he only tried to save his ass. You ended up between a rock and a hard place because of him. “I want him gone until morning.”

“Consider it done,” Bucky purrs. “And after he’s gone, we will get to the fun part…”

Part 3

[blingblong55]

The Great War -141, Vladimir Makarov

Based on a request:

with the new mw3, lets do angst, something along the lines of "Somewhere in the haze, got a sense i've been betrayed" coming from us because 141 betrayed us horribly, which ended up in us getting tortured and then we pretennd its fine when it isnt. forget and forgive we lie and when we meet with Makarov, we tell them, 'oops sorry, forgot i was also a enemy at some point, guess its time to betray like real enemies do' and as we set Makarov free, we show that we have been working as his spy ever since they betrayed us. also can this be with a female reader and we also marry makarov behind their backs so thats why we betray so hard? i love u!

A/N: anon knew what they were doing with that ask…anyway, here you go my love…betrayal as a meal <3

--- F!Reader, soldier!reader, enemy!reader, betrayal, mentions of torture and violence

A/N: also, not much of an angst since I don't want to kill Soap in this one...but I hope you like it

[Present day]

File #21712

Name: [Readers Last, First name]

Alias: Grim

Callsign: Bravo 0-5

Gender: F

DOB: [Redacted]

Rank: 2nd Lt.

Affiliations: 

-TF 141 (Former)

-Kasper Team (dissolved)

-Konni Group (Current)

Status: Alive. Threat.

Summary:

Deadly, fast and a killing machine. Soldier was trained as a recon sniper and has been trained by allied forces as an insertion specialist. SAS has recognised this soldier as a necessity for most of its joint operations. Decorated with high awards and recognition by all military forces. TF 141 acquired soldier after a mission in Al Mazrah. Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.

---------------------- 

The file was there, Laswell and all of the men in the team stared at it. What have they done, was all that played in their minds. To betray a soldier that has been wanted by all allied forces, by all teams and now losing you so quickly to a Russian group. To think your hands will be responsible for their demise. One torture room, where you begged as they did vile acts against you. Truth yelled by your gravelly throat, only to have Price ask for more of your blood. "How did he get to her so quickly?" Gaz asked, baffled to have lost you to the man you hated when this all began. "He had her all along," Kate spoke. Nikolai shook his head. "But how? We were her family," a betrayed Ghost said. "We betrayed her first," Price recalls. 

[Eight years ago]

There had been suspicion someone within the base was working with KorTac, a double agent. All fake puzzles led to an unsuspecting, then officer cadet, you. Ghost and Soap made sure to tie you nicely to a chair. The same one that watched you bleed the truth as they cut looking for lies. You were always the hunter, never the prey. "Tell us, R/N, why the fuck were you talking to KorTac!" Price made sure to have the young Lieutenant punch you each time you stayed silent. Your blood on the walls of the torture-...interrogation room. "I told you Price, it isn't me!" Your eyes poured the truth they never saw. 

"Fucking answer us!" Soap, more than ever hurt, slapped you. You play tough, but this hurts, the people you trusted with your life are now wanting to end it. An oath you hold close to you, now far away, or so they believed. The patch you wore with pride, is now ripped from your uniform. No longer friendly but an enemy. You knew what this meant. Ghost took his knife out, began to approach your neck with the sharp blade and before he took your life, Gaz walked in. A small-figured soldier is being pushed into the room. "Tell them what you told me!" Garrick barked. "I-it's me! I'm the one who is talking to KorTac," voice filled with fear, rightfully so. Ghost let go of the fisted uniform in his hand, and watched as your body fell forward. Soap, look of regret, held you in his arms. 

On the way to the medic centre, Ghost was by your side as you kept whispering it wasn't you. The scar he made, is forever to be kept. Days of healing, hours of apologies. Nights when you didn't hear it, but the cold lieutenant apologised with a stream of tears on his face. A blade he cared for, neared your death. 

A/N: Makarov's information has been updated for the reboot, so I'm basing myself on that

[Seven years ago]

[Saint Petersburg, Russia]

You visited the country as a civilian and bumped into a man on your way to your hotel. "Sorry, mate," you kept walking and then days later, the same man appeared in the hotel's lobby. Bumped into you and then as an apology for spilling your wine, he offers dinner. 36-year-old Vladimir was still not illustrated, not to any of his future enemies or hunters at least. You learned many things with him that evening, from his young years in the military and how his night had gotten better since meeting you. "It's wonderful, to have such a beauty like you visit such a dull country." He had you blushing and knew how to mess with your young heart. 

"You're just saying that, Vlad," a smile on your lips. It was bizarre how he went from Vladimir to Vlad, a short name that meant too much to a man like him. "Well, it's true, my dear," his smile winning you over. He didn't know your real job and you didn't know his. That night, you made a friend, someone you hold dear. That night, he made a lover, a puppet to his future. 

[Six years ago]

[middle of nowhere]

"Where are you taking me?" a blindfold on you as your boyfriend, Vlad, took you to yet another date. "You'll see my dearest," he whispers against your soft skin. Warm breeze hit your skin. The ocean, as free as you and him yearned to be. "Suprise my love," his thick accent melting your heart. The blindfold off you, you smile and hug him. This day, all truth was told, no arguments, just two lovers understanding each other's lives. "No no, my love, I would never hurt you," a promise he knows to keep. "And you wouldn't betray me, right love?" His hands cupped your delicate face as you nod. "I would never," you whisper as you feel his lips fall on yours. 

From then on, no one knew who he was to you. But to his comrades, friends and family you were the girl who held his heart. The task force all thought you were just like them, stuck to the mission and not to civilian love. Dancing with the devil, making love to him and promising your all. An engagement ring that hangs with your dog tags. Secret love to never be told. 

[Five years ago]

"Who is this?" Soap and Gaz looked at the photograph. "Vladimir Makarov, a Russian nationalist, born during the USSR," Laswell responded. "He's the target," her lips said. A knot at your throat, this can't be, you have to warn him. "Y'alright love?" Ghost's hand on your back. You nod. "Yeah, I'm just thinking," you turn to him. He nods, "Right, well, what do you think we should do?" He encouraged you, the new lieutenant of the team, no longer a cadet officer. It was something he pushed you to, to be the best. Proud smile on him when you ran up to him with the news. "I say we start with intel," you look at the photograph once more. It was your Vlad, no doubt. "Right, sergeants with me, Ghost and Grim stay behind for Laswell's next intel ask," Price nodded and left. 

Days passed and Operation Golf was established. Ghost taught you how to perfect your ghillie suit. He just liked how you tried to make yours better than his, which always turned into, 'which Lt. wore it better'.

By midnight, as Ghost went to sleep, you left base to meet with Vladimir. Price and the two other men in a different country, looking for him. "What is it, my love?" His gloved hands held your face. "They are now gathering intel on you. They believe you are still in Russia," you spoke in Russian. He chuckles, "Shame that I'm here, isn't it," his lips meet yours. Your nose is cold and now warmed by his kiss. "Don't trust no one, not even Ivan," you warn him. "I only trust my beautiful love," he kisses you again. "Now, let me hold my precious darling before she plays pretend." And that night, was the first of many rendezvous's he took for you whilst you play ally to the task force. 

[Four years ago]

You were on an operation with some old teammates from a past squad when Price got a hold of you. "Grim, it's that Captain Price guy!" A teammate calls out. You answer the call. "Prisoner 627 is now in Russia," Price proudly spoke. 627, a number unique to the case the military had opened for Makarov alone. Your wedding ring is hung with the dog tags. "Copy, out." You say over the call. That night, your bedroom was not filled with the call of your dearest lover. It's strange, to play pretend with the family you made as a soldier and to play feign with the man you call home as a wife. All in the name of love and war. 

Months pass and you play calmly. No husband, just an enemy in some Russian prison. "Y'okay bonnie?" Soap sat beside you during mess hall. "Yeah, just a bit tired from that training," you lie. The sleepless nights you have thought about your husband. You look around the table, no one knowing you knew what would come next from Konni. In the end, it wouldn't be you who got betrayed again. Not tortured, especially not by the men in your husband's team that guarded your life with theirs. 

Mission after mission, you would go to a country near Russia. Have meetings with people on your husband's side, and hear how he would escape prison. Asked you to stay away from his people when the day arrived. Play good, he would remind you. You know the date, time, how and when it would happen. The plan is all memorised in your head. You knew the people that would break him free, you knew it all and yet no one in 141 was aware. 

[Three years ago]

On yet another mission, you got news of Vladimir. He isolated himself, prepared for when he would see you again. Sent letters to you occasionally. Details of love no one would see from a man like him. A love for all movie lovers to never witness. You roamed the home he set out to be his and yours, no one, not even his best soldier knew that home existed. It was days like these that you wished to have stayed in bed and kissed his body, all details to be taken in for when you waited to once more kiss him. 

The picture of the secret wedding was held between your fingers. A smile he dreams to see as he awaits the prison break. The man who was set to believe evil held your hand and promised an entire lifetime of love. "I'm sorry," you whisper as your gaze focuses on the 141 emblem. 

"Never be sorry, never, what they did to you is cruel, you never do that to a woman who was oathed in," fury escaped his lips. It was the night he finally told you all about him. He kissed the scars that the torture room left. In that moment, all else who dared question you, especially the rats of 141 would pay for what they did to his darling. Maybe he did corrupt you, but those scars, the lies they believed and the truths they never heard from you, were way before he met you. He believed in loyalty, good or evil, opposing or not. And the way you told him how you held the oath of being a soldier dear to you, he admired it. He believes that loyalty is essential, and if you are loyal to who you are, he applauds it. 

[Two years ago]

A mission gone wrong, a phone call from within the prison. All he sacrificed to just hear you say, "I'm fine, honey." With that oh-so-soft voice of yours. A sigh of relief came from his lips. This was a reminder he would always be around even from within a guarder tower of hell. His men would always guard you, even if they fought 141, you were never the target. KorTac had a target on their backs when Vladimir found out they were the ones responsible for the bullet on your shoulder. "What is it?" He asked the guard. "The girl has been injured, gunfight at some mission." He had people that worked for him within the guards, and when the news arrived to him, that's when for the first time in his life, he feared life and a gun. Vladimir Makarov is a villain in everyone's eyes. In your eyes that hold paradise, he is peace. He is Vlad, your husband. 

Whilst waiting for Soap to get cleared from the medics, you played with the ring on your necklace. "Oh, R/N, has some lover?" Gaz was the first to notice. Ghost's stare went to you, eyes wide as he heard the words he never needed to hear. Your blush told the words his heart never wanted to hear. 

[One year ago]

[Las Almas, Mexico]

"Are you threatening us?" Ghost asked and in that moment, he made you back away. Guarding you with his body. Betrayal, the first of many he would see with you. That became the night you escaped the shadows of Commander Graves. Soap was somewhere in the city, Ghost and you escaped every chance the shadows had at catching you. Imprisonment is something you got Colonel Vargas out of. Ironic. By the end, you killed him, the man who used his shadows, in some explosion. "You alright, love?" Ghost asked as you went to the aircraft quietly. "Yeah, Mexico just tired me," your head hung as you played with the dog tags. "Who's the lover?" He finally acknowledged the ring. "No one, it's just a silly joke," you lie, something he knew well. "Hmm, yeah...a silly joke," he turned away from you. 

[Present day, 21 November 2023 ] 

[London, England]

The last time you saw them all as a team, well, now that you were sure you'd be a newfound enemy. With Makarov now out of prison, prisoner 627, your love called for him. As Ghost looked through the CCTV cameras, one of the men in Konni gave you the signal. And as you approached, you caught a glimpse of him. Your heart flutters and then you look at Ghost. He nodded and you pretended to try and fight against Makarov. Czar-9-0 Actual. The callsign of your husband and the name of the man you betrayed them for. Guns blazing, bullets directed at them, not you. Gaz and Ghost, a team, Soap and Price, a team, 141, one unit. You, the wife of the enemy. Two bullets and then, the head hit the ground. Young soldier down. "What are you doing?!" Soap asked as you turned on them. A 20-year-old soldier died within seconds, you knew him from when he joined at 18. James, the man whose blood ran on your gun. 

Makarov fired, one of his men held your hand and brought you to your husband. The 141 patch off your uniform as now, you were given the Konni patch. "Welcome back, comrade," a man spoke with an evil grin. Ghost, the eyes that saw the betrayal again. 23 soldiers died, from both sides. 141 on the ground, trying to recover. 

--

"C'mon, Grim, you have to trust me on this, yeah?" the young lieutenant that made Ghost told you. "What if we fall?" you asked. "If you trust me, we won't and if I trust you, we will go home and get a pint or two," He smiles at you. From this day on, you and he became close, a bond no gun could break. 

--

Ghost swore you were taken hostage. And as Makarov was about to kill Captain Price, one of his men tapped him out. "No time, we will get him later!" Ghost's glare never left yours. He shook his head. This can't be, not his R/N. You looked at him, no remorse behind your eyes. It wasn't R/N, it was Grim that stared at him. The soldier he respected the most. You pointed your gun at one of the other soldiers with them. 

It turned into something bigger

Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

He jumped at you, to not kill you but to bring you back and let Makarov run with Grim. You pushed him, what turned into a fight for his teammate to be back, became a fight against the enemy. You pushed him to the ground. "Ghost!" Gaz yelled as he saw your gun pointed at him. It was never Makarov that would be his demise. It wasn't an enemy. It was you. It was the one he held dear to his civilian self. The woman he would drink poison for. The one he jumped a bullet for when they were young cadets. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His eyes never left yours and for a second, he saw past Grim and noticed the scared R/N that obeyed her husband. 

Soldier down on that icy ground

Looked up at me with honor and truth

Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

You put your gun down and turn away, running to Vladimir. His open arms, ready to embrace his darling. Now, all of 141's secrets are with Makarov. It clicked in that instant. How four years ago Makarov knew who Ghost was. How well he knew all their names. It wasn't some file he saw when his hacker got in, no, it was you, the best of all pawns. The train cleaned your tracks. Price and the others stood in fear, all this time, you were part of Konni. Ghost stood in silence. 

In every war he was in, you were there. His favourite of all soldiers. From his early days as just Simon to his latest days as Ghost, all witnessed by you. He was the one who asked for you anywhere he went. His life came in a flash, all the Christmas events, the dinners and drinks he had with his friend...no...enemy. The one person who knew Simon liked the palm of her hand, now holding the man Ghost called an enemy. 

"How did he get to her so quickly?" Gaz asked, baffled to have lost you to the man you hated when this all began. "He had her all along," Kate spoke. Nikolai shook his head. "But how? We were her family," a betrayed Ghost said. "We betrayed her first," Price recalls. "But that was years ago," Soap comments. "It started years ago," Gaz mentions. "We weren't meant to win this one gentlemen," Kate informs.

"Fuck!" Ghost's blood boiled. He scared them, he knew that well. So when he slammed his fist on the table, he even made the best of soldiers flinch. "Lt," Soap tried to calm him down. "No, Johnny! You don't get it, you don't know her as I do," he approached the sergeant. "She didn't kill you, why?" Kate walks to the betrayed soldier. "What?" His voice is hoarse. "She had the chance to kill you, headshot even, yet she didn't, she ran to him and then when she did, all fire ceased." Kate is after all a mastermind. "She didn't betray Simon, she betrayed Ghost, she betrayed Soap, not Johnny, Gaz, not Kyle and Bravo six, not John." She states. 

"She betrayed soldiers, not family," Price came to realisation. Grim did that, Grim killed all that came between the goal. 'Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.' The goal wasn't to kill Task Force 141, it was to get revenge for the betrayal, for torturing you in a room, letting your blood drip. You married a man, something all fools do. But even though Makarov wanted you to pull the trigger on Ghost, you didn't. You ran away and the fire ceased. 

There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair

A/N: see what I did there?...mastermind me y'know

Tags:

@tf141glory @liyanahelena @quaritchscupquake @dilfgestivo @thefragmented @scarletdfox @arialikestea @unicorngirly1 @alhaizen @willowaftxn83-87 @koniglovesme @bbyfimmie @mothcelestial @kit-kats06 @palomesa @dheet @dontfearthereaperazura

[kentosbabes]

Would love to see dad nanami 🥺

Nanami who passed out during the birth. He was being supportive holding your hand but the sight of the blood had him sweating and shaking till he collapsed on the floor. Although you should be angry you could only laugh as nurses help him up and sit him down while he keeps trying to shout 'Keep pushing' and 'I love you' in his delirious state.

Nanami who helped decorate the baby room to your desire helping to paint and taking you shopping for furniture. And when your baby girl comes home with you he spends ages sitting in the rocking chair reading her stories and telling her about his day.

Nanami who continues to treat you like you are fragile even after the birth. He would not leave your side whenever you're together and cater to your every need. 'Kento I can do it' you say as he kneels down to tie your shoe lace 'I can do it now'. But he completely ignores you just shakes his head and continues to tie the laces.

Nanami who makes sure he takes off days and doesn't work overtime so he can be with you as much as possible. He often comes home to find you crashed on the couch with your daughter sprawled out on your chest fast asleep, 'My beautiful girls' he says kissing both yours and his daughter's forehead before covering you in a blanket and then beginning to make dinner.

Nanami who calls all of his connections to make sure your daughter gets into the best preschool in town. He makes sure to sit down every night with your daughter in his lap holding up number cards while you just sit and watch laughing at how she sticks her tongue out at her father completely unbothered at the task.

Nanami who takes you both out as much as he can so he can 'spoil his girls'. From restaurants to trips to the aquarium he's going all out all of the time to see his girls smile. 'Look there's a sting ray' you say pointing at the fish in the aquarium with your daughter perched on your hip. Nanami is behind you his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin on your neck 'mmh I love you so much you know that right' he mumbles. 'I love you too kento' you say turning around in his grasp so he can kiss you.

Nanami who sits with your now 12-year-old daughter as she tries to do her math homework. 'I can't do it Dad' she says getting frustrated. 'don't worry darling we'll take a break yeah? get some ice cream and then try again' he replies closing up the book and kissing her cheek as she nods and then disappears to get ready to go out. He spots you looking at him and pats his lap 'you're such a good father Kento' you say sitting down on him his hands wrapping around you and pulling you even closer to him. he brings his lips to yours in a soft kiss which is disrupted by the sound of 'ew' as your daughter stands in the doorway her hands covering her eyes.

Nanami who's still all over you, his hands always going too far up your skirt or top far up your shirt. 'Kento she's next door' you practically whimper as Nanami plays with your clit as you lay back on the bed. 'she's a teenager she's not leaving her room' he says between kisses 'Just be quiet for me okay doll' you can only nod in response as he lowers to his knees and begins licking up your folds.

Nanami who doesn't care if your daughter is in the kitchen he's getting a quickie in whilst you're doing the washing in the laundry room, bending you over the washing machine his hand on your throat as he praises you for being so quiet.

Nanami who sits next to you in the school waiting room as you've been called into the school because your daughter's been in a fight. 'Mr and Mrs Nanami' someone calls and you both get up his hand at your waist guides you as he whispers 'Do you think she won' in your ear making you smirk.

Nanami who rolls his eyes as the principal talks about how your daughter lacks manners. 'excuse me but to my understanding, she was defending herself and did not throw the first punch, therefore, I support her decision and I will be calling your higher-ups about your own lack of discipline' he says before getting up and helping both you and your daughter out of the school leaving the principle shaking in shock knowing with one phone call her career is over.

Nanami who lays in bed with you later that night and says 'Where do you think it came from' You only laugh and say 'She's going through the same emo phase as you Kento'. he snaps his head around looking at you 'yeah but her short temper comes from you' he mumbles. 'what did you say' you say looking back at him your eyes wide. ' I love you darling' he repeats smiling as you throw a pillow at his face.

Masterlist

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO x FEM READER

Gojo's a brat.

wc — 1k 

tags —  been reading a lot of shoujo manga lately which is its own warning, jealous Gojo spoiling reader 

Snap.

You hiss between your teeth, annoyed and barely restraining yourself from murder. The sting of the elastic jolts you out of your studies, but after a quick break to glare at the headache sitting next to you, you dive right back into your work. Patience is one of your strong suits. It’s why Yaga worked so hard to steal - in his words, ‘recruit’ - you from the Kyoto campus. Someone has to set a good example for the kids. He knows it’s not going to be Gojo.

Speaking of-

Snap.

This time, you feel the brush of his cold fingers against your skin as well. You yelp in shock, both at the sudden change in temperature and at the way your skin smarts. Gojo takes a break from his triple sized blue raspberry slushee to laugh at you hysterically, clutching his sides. It’s not even that funny. You wish all kinds of illnesses on him with fervor.

One more time. Just one more time, you promise yourself, and you’ll-

Snap goes the hair tie on your wrist against your skin.

You don’t even let him withdraw his fingers before you leap over the chair to punish him.

“You little punk,” you snarl, catching his collar in your hand and throttling him with it. It’s a rare day where he’s wearing business casual, which he doesn’t even do for meetings with the elders.

“I’m older than you,” he says. “Gotta respect your elders.”

“Yeah? I’ll show you respect!” 

You’re already reaching out to pinch his cheek, only to come into contact with infinity. This comes with the realization that he must have had it turned off earlier, if you could have choked him. Why does the thought make you happy?

“Men don’t like women who are so high strung,” he teases.

“Tell that to my roster of Hinge dates,” you snort (lying through your teeth). You’re admittedly popular, but you’ve stopped seeing anyone in recent months for a reason you don’t want to explore further. That’s a stone you’re willing to leave unturned.

“Oh, yeah?” You can only tell his voice is just slightly huskier because you spend so much time with him these days that you can catch the slight changes in his mood. It’s for lesson plans, of course.

That doesn’t stop you from swallowing hard. Jealousy looks good on him. He had the kind of looks that could drive women crazy, but combined with his unfiltered attention on you? It was a difficult to fight the urge to provoke him further. 

“Yeah. As for me, I don’t like men who are a pain in the ass,” you smooth down his collar once you realize you’ve still been holding it.

The tension breaks. Gojo never stays serious for long. You’ve only caught fleeting glimpses of the god that lurks within his skin, trapped and turbulent.

“Aw, come on. I’m not so bad, am I? Can I make it up to you?”

“Depends,” you sniff, highlighting a important sentence in your textbook. You’ll have to remember that for class later. Nobara had asked about it. You should really tell him to go away, he’s distracting you so much, but you rarely do tell him off no matter what he does.

“I happen to have a reservation-“

So that explains why he’s dressed so nicely, though you wouldn’t put it past him to show up to Michelin star restaurants in sweatpants and get his way. You have to remind yourself not to get excited that he’s doing this for you. If you do, you lose.

“Happen to, is it? What if I don’t want your leftovers?”

“Don’t be that way,” he wheedles. “I’ll pay for everything.”

“As if I was going to.”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“You can do better than that,” you retort. This is almost fun, like negotiating with Yaga to raise your salary. Utahime thinks there’s something wrong with you for enjoying workplace politics so much, but maybe that’s why you can tolerate Gojo’s company so well when no one else can. You have to be a little crazy to put up with him.

“Hmm,” he says. You see right through him. He’s only pretending to think. In fact, every second of this conversation was predetermined. It’s all part of a bit you’ve done before. “Last offer, then. You can max out my card getting ready.”

And your answer, therefore, is also already prepared. You don’t even deign to give him one, simply holding out your hand.

“Who says I’m giving it to you?” Gojo’s eyes sparkle. He’s being particularly difficult today, so much so you’re tempted to just slap him across his pretty face so you can kiss the hurt away afterwards. He’d like that, though. “Don’t you need someone to carry your bags?”

This is the game he likes to play, messing with you so he can apologize with extravagant gifts. Just once, you wish he could be straightforward about it. You’re not bragging, but everyone knows he likes you. It would make everyone’s life easier if he could just be mature about it, but instead, Gojo insists on acting like a teenager with a crush.

Whatever. You can put up with it for a while longer. You’re not particularly opposed to this situation. He spoils you with attention and lavish gifts; you spoil him by being the only one who can tolerate him. 

Besides, you’re keeping secrets too, a big one that Utahime had whispered to you the other day over lunch. She had been so excited to have something to hold over Gojo that she hadn’t even registered the look on your face when she told you. 

The other reason Yaga tried so hard to steal you from Kyoto?

Gojo asked him for a favor.