#//Like of COURSE it's not going to be line for line movement for movement as the first movie//

[hoseoksluna]

LITTLE JUICE | JJK

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut, pwp

rating: 18+

summary: when you get insecure about being constantly needy for your boyfriend, jungkook shows you that it's okay.

word count: 6.4k

warnings: the plot is TEENY TINYYYY in this one, pure filth, mirror sex, dd/lg, little space, new roles for the wine universe omg, jungkook is a caretaker, pet names, degradation kink, praise kink, dry humping, they're so in love it's sickening, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), fingering, squirting, daddy issues, heavy dom/sub dynamics, handjob, penetrative sex without condom, cowgirl, plushies used in a sexual situation.

luna's note: i'm so sorry i couldn't get this out for you on xmas day since i was so sick, but let this be a gift for the new year! i missed writing smut sooooo much, and i can't wait to get back to it starting january. this was so fun omg. i missed wine sm. my daddy issues be daddy issuing so this has something new in it, i'm super excited abt it!! i hope you like this and that you enjoy reading. make sure to let me know what you think in my ask box!! mommy luna is baaaaackkkkkkk. HAPPY NEW YEARRRRR. <3 (one day early but i felt like saying it idc) BIG MWAH.

luna's necessary side note: i missed u all so damn much wtf. OH, AND HAPPY BDAY TAEHYUNGGGGGG.

𓂃 ౨ৎ

taglist | join here: @jjk7k, @tkslovechild, @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl, @ririkookiemonster, 

@perfectiondazesworld, @https-mei, @bangtansonyeondanue, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, 

@hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk, @parkinglot-nights, @sadgirlroo

The mirrors, lining the walls, are nearly all fogged up once you take a step inside the vast rehearsal room. A certain mellow, yet familiar song led you towards the right door—one that made your ears perk up in curiosity because it reminded you of something you’d heard a long time ago, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Not until you rearranged your bobas into the crook of your elbow and slid open the door. 

The stuffiness of the room only added to the sensual aura of the song, and your legs nearly gave out on you. 

No BS by Chris Brown.

The song that started it all.

Jungkook, clothed in black from head to toe, seems to be locked in his own world as he moves his body in the center of the room, his chest and feet hitting each beat without a singular mistake or a misstep. And when the chorus of the song flows in, his whole figure follows suit. It rolls into the rhythm like the slowest, most passionate wave of the sea that splits in the middle and begins to course down your sternum. Your cheeks darken with a feverish tint. You feel every inch of his movements inside you as if he were there, and when Jungkook spins and sinks to his knees, propping only one Nike-shod foot on the floor, and he hip-thrusts before he continues those rippling motions to the last beats, the muscles of your thighs quiver on reflex and your dampened private parts flutter.

You did not expect to see that when you texted Jungkook you were going to visit him just because you finished work early and you could get boba before your favorite shop closed. You feel as though you just got blessed twice. 

TGIF, indeed. Never in your life had you ever thought you’d celebrate the work week ending like you are right now—with two bobas in your arm, cooling your heated skin, and with your eyes witnessing erotically angelic artistry in a humid room. And with your sensitive parts outright dripping, too, because the song ends, enveloping the room in a silence that welcomes in Jungkook’s heavy breathing as he slumps back onto his back, his chest lifting and falling in the air. 

You feel fuzzily faint. He made you wet in record time and he hasn’t even touched you. Nor has he looked at you. 

Instinctively, your hand grasps your mango boba and you press it against the side of your face. Smile to yourself as a lightbulb flicks to life in your mind. 

Leaving behind your purse, you take both of the delightful treats and walk over to him. His eyes are closed as he’s absolutely unaware of your presence, your steps soft and sly. His round, sweat-splotched nose puffs out hard breaths that move through you and you coo to yourself silently before you place both of your feet on either side of him. You squat down, careful not to let your bum touch his lap, and you get his boba ready, placing your own on the ground. And with the loudest roar you can muster, you press the drink to his glistening cheek. 

He yelps. His fear-filled eyes fly open, his hands quick to catch you as you tumble down on him in reaction, your lungs submerging the room in your obscenely loud giggles. Tears of laughter cloud your vision, preventing you from seeing the horror twisting his face, but the little you saw was enough to douse your body in extraordinary elation. The tapioca inside the long cup swirls as it swims ferociously in the thick, violet liquid, mimicking the roundness and the blackness of his pupils with utmost perfection. 

You swipe a finger under your eye, speckles of your glitter smearing its pad. You lean down, your laughter subdued as it slowly fades out, and you can see the horror smoothing out and transforming, seamlessly, into a relieved adoration that taps against your heart. You kiss him with the boba now cooling your cheek as well. Leave behind a hard peck on his perspiration-coated mouth that makes him softly hum into this physical exchange of love, and just before you draw away, he breathes out against you with his nose. And that doesn’t just tap on your heart, it knocks on it most warmly. 

You love him so much. Too much. So much that the simplest of his body and human reactions make you feel things. Things that normal girls don’t normally feel. 

Good thing you’re not a normal girl. 

You’re a messed up girl. And you’re a girl in love. Have been for the past year. 

“You scared the shit out of me.” 

Your mouth widens into a pleased grin, and the light bulb that shone in a bright yellow melts into a warm, dusky pink tinge that floods your spine—only because he squeezes the dip of your waist that you’ve been working hard at carving out. A new thing you’ve implemented into your daily routine after you’ve gotten a new job that doesn’t allow you to fuck him all day long like you used to. The sex has gotten even better with time as the wine of his love ripened and matured. To such an extent that you found yourself craving it more than you had in those times when you were just seeing him for sex. Two rounds aren’t enough for you—and you remember well that after two rounds you were usually too exhausted to even keep your eyes open. Now, because you have matured too, your vessel for his love and his liquid stars has grown, needing more to feel satisfied to the fullest. The new job kept you away from him, the long hours teased you. So much that your bathroom breaks were too frequent and obvious and you spent them locked in a bathroom stall with one hand in your panties and your other holding your phone to your ear while Jungkook guided you, his hand, too, in his pants, locked in the same place on the other side of the line, whispering encouraging, lewd instructions that sent you shaking over the edge in mere minutes. 

Instructions that got him in trouble at his workplace, hence why he had to come up with a solution. Because your thirst was never quenched in minutes. His voice was too pretty, and too soft. 

Gym five times a week for you, dance lessons for him, physical distance for the both of you. A perfect solution for a perfect problem. All that sexual frustration was released during those exercises filled with delicious pain and you went to work the next day free of that carnal lust swishing in your veins. You focused on your work, and you didn’t have to take long bathroom breaks. You didn’t even need a spare pair of panties in your purse anymore.

It worked—and it’s completely crazy to you that all it took for you to break your public purity streak was seeing him dance like that. 

You sit up and with your swift movement, the squelching sound of your cunt rubbing up against your juices sounds out across the room. Your cheeks heat up with a different shade of red as embarrassment runs down your spine, especially as Jungkook’s brows twitch upwards and his eyes widen, his large hands lowering down a little, following the curve of your figure that leads to his favorite part of you. 

Your hips. 

A blush scatters upon his cheeks, too. He heard it. 

He calls out your name, sweeping his tongue across his abruptly dry and chapped bottom lip. Your name, not princess, not baby. Your government name without any embellishment of adoration. 

You’re in trouble. 

Your embarrassment pinches you at the two dimples on the small of your back. “Y-yeah?” 

Jungkook opens his mouth, but he pauses for a moment. As if he could sense where the emotion touched you, his long and warm fingers find its icy traces that it left behind while still keeping the crooks of his thumb anchored on your hip bones. 

“Did you get wet for me?” 

A shiver cascades down the slender column of your back, a visible one for his eyes to see that coax out his softness for you, evident in the roundness of his bottom lip that he juts out, triggering your unprecedented shyness. What a drastic shift of dynamic in your relationship you perceive this to be. All along, for a year long, the atmosphere of your shared love has been nothing but an environment of safety, where you could unfold your sexuality as naturally and confidently as you wanted to without an ounce of coyness. Introduce an unyielding desire and a well-meaning solution for it into the equation and watch the change bloom. 

For some reason, you’re reminded of his past, now distant, liking of a certain degradation kink that once grew like vines across your intimate relations with him. The memories travel along your veins—the vulgar pet names, the calling out, the rough handling—and crest at your core, moistening the center of your panties even more as your walls pull in. And the way Jungkook takes that bottom lip between his teeth divulges to you quite clearly that he feels it. 

Which is a bad thing because you can’t lie about it. 

But… you can’t divert his attention from it. 

You slosh his drink in your hand. “I got you your favorite,” you chirp, the boba twirling beneath your hand while his identical pupils remain unmoving, unblinking, fixed on you. You manage a smile, but its staticness crumbles as soon as you realize that Jungkook isn’t really influenced by your change of topic. “Taro boba. I got a milk one, too. Mango. You wan—”

His hands descend down to your thighs, squeezing, halting the tide of your words, the progression of your trick. His fingers slip beneath the hem of your skirt and before you know it, he lifts you just a little bit to maneuver you and make you sit on the shaft of his semi. A low gasp gushes out of your throat as well as a leak of your dew not only onto the fabric of your underwear but onto the material that now clings to his manhood. 

He twitches, hardening beneath your pussy, and gooseflesh pricks your skin. 

“Mango? You always get Taro with me.” 

The glitter from your eye make-up that you smeared across his cheek during your kiss twinkles underneath the dimmed light and he doesn’t guide your hips to move against him. No, he rolls his own—ever so slowly, ever so discreetly. His hands merely hold you down, but nothing about it is forceful. Subdued pleasure springs up your sternum, pooling in your head, making you woozy as quickly as if he were pouring booze down your throat. And when he heightens the pressure enough that he twitches again, you recognize he’s doing the same move that is a part of the choreo he was practicing. 

Your heart hammers against your chest. Your nipples pebble against your cotton top, and Jungkook’s eyes fly to them, catching and taking in their aroused state, perhaps even coaxing it out of them. 

A sigh leaves his mouth. He fists the hem of your skirt, dipping his head into the current of the pleasure he’s giving both of you, and so do you. 

You just can’t help it; you can’t fight it. When your toe touches the surface of the wine of your shared love, nothing can keep you from taking a dip. And the same applies to Jungkook, too. In this case, he’s dripping in red, having slipped entirely into the current, one arm out of the water, fingers wrapped around your ankle, pulling you into the water. 

And something about his desire lessens your strange coyness. His lack of solution offering brings down the stigma, setting you free. And you missed him. You missed him terribly. Haven’t felt his dick in five fucking days. 

You place your hands on top of his. 

A small fire begins to burn within the snug blackness of his eyes. All of a sudden, the noises he stifled come out in soft, almost inaudible growls that cause your clit to throb and your nails to dig half-moons into the skin of his hands. A green light from you for him to enjoy this—and he does. Jungkook throws his head back, his pretty chin pointing to the ceiling, and his big chest heaves. 

It is only at this moment that his eyes leave yours just to bask in this forbidden pleasure. 

Anyone could walk in—the doors aren’t locked, nor are they shut at all. Anyone could think the practice room is available for personal use, without a single soul present. And anyone could see you riding the horsey because the sight of him lost in the vivacity of it all forces you most carnally to give him more. 

You hump him. 

“My friend got it the other day and she said it was delicious,” you breathe out, speaking of your unordinary choice of boba. The movements of your hips are small, minuscule, but hard enough that his knuckles get painted with a shade of ivory that sprinkle your chest with little shocks of joy and pride. A thick vein bulges on the side of his throat as Jungkook tries his best not to let out the entirety of his noises that his body is brimming with—and for that very reason, you grab his hands and place them very brattily on your perked, full breasts. “I wanted to try it and see for myself.” 

This feels good. This feels like the time before you got older and greedy. And the feeling is validated when Jungkook whisks his eyes back at you and grapples your tits, squeezing them so hard that it’s you who bites their bottom lip until you nearly draw blood, your body set on fire with a blue desire that kisses his big hands with such roughness that he whimpers. 

But the moment is ruined all too soon. 

A myriad of high-pitched voices is carried through the thick air, accompanied by giggles. You gasp, looking behind you, and before you know it, you’re up on your feet and Jungkook’s unopened boba is knocked to the side, now rolling sideways towards the mirror. 

You go to fetch it, but a strong hand on your arm prevents you from doing so. You spring back to your place in front of him and you glance up at him in confusion just to see him frowning down at you. 

Sweat drips down his temple. The tips of his brows almost meet in the middle, but swim away and relax at the sight of your puzzlement. The voices grow louder, your breath hitches in your throat and Jungkook’s hand lifts and pets down the back of your head, awakening the butterflies in your tummy as if he’s done it for the first time in your life. 

A yearning to kiss him consumes you. 

“Stay here,” Jungkook murmurs, keeping his hand wrapped around the back of your neck. “If they see us like this, they’ll walk away.” 

You nod, understanding if you were to do as you wished, the girls would’ve taken it as a sign to enter the room and perhaps mingle. But if they see you stuck in an intimate moment like this, they quietly and quickly leave without any unnecessary fuss. 

Smart man. 

“I’m also so fucking hard that I can’t even hide it,” he continues, lowering his tone even more. It penetrates you, making your clit thrum, and as your grin blossoms, so does a romantic shade of blush across your cheeks. You envelop your arms around his torso, propping your chin on his chest, radiate your love up to him, and Jungkook smiles down at you. “As per usual.” 

He kisses your forehead, lingering there for a beat longer before he lifts his head and focuses his gaze at the situation at the door. You don’t care much because you dwell on the hot and cold sensation he left in his wake from the warmth of his mouth and the iciness of his lip ring—something you’ll never get used to and something that will always ruin your panties. 

“They’re gone.” 

And so is he. Off to shut the door and lock it, peeking through the little rectangular window to check if anyone is around. Once the coast is clear, you sense him behind you as you bend to pick up his knocked off boba and you stumble upon his gaze in the mirror as soon as you straighten your spine. 

A hungry look is wrung into his features. 

The corners of his eyes droop in arousal, narrowed as they are. His pupils are blacker than the tapioca in your hands. His teeth nibble on his bottom lip impatiently and you flutter all over, taking in his state and his large stature towering above you. You could melt into him and never be found again, hidden in the crevices of his body that you still believe are there for you. Hidden forever, safe and sound. 

He’s delicious through and through—and it’s been five days since you last had a taste of him. 

Five torturous days. 

“You must be thirsty after all that dancing,” you say, breathless and thirsty yourself. His chest heaves, colliding into your back, and all those soft crevices of him touching you brings you back into that ravenous, greedy state you can’t get out of so easily. Dangerous, he is. Utterly, utterly dangerous. Erasing your clean streak like that. “Let me open it for you.” 

You go to turn around and fetch his straw from your purse, but he doesn’t let you. He encages you where you are by a mere placement of his hand on your hip, fingers back to gripping the fabric of your skirt. He can rip it off if he likes—he can buy you a new one and make your heart elated anytime. 

The idea hardens your nipples, making a show for him all over again. 

He pushes you flush against him, earning a sultry gasp from you. The fingers that gripped your skirt elongate across your mound while the other graze your chin, elevating it a little, ensuring a strong eye contact. 

You flutter. Can’t take it anymore. He has to take you home and fuck the shit out of you before you— 

“I am thirsty,” he purrs, his lips borderline touching yours. “But for something other than bubble tea. Care to guess what it is?” 

Your breath lodges in your throat. You know well what he means, but out of habit and out of personal pleasure you pretend to be dumb. You want to hear him say it—you want him to be as detailed as he was during those naughty afternoon phone calls that got him in trouble with his boss, who told him off for having long work breaks. You want him, his filthy mouth and even filthier, condescending manners. 

You want the old times—and for the sake of your desire, you remain silent. Twist your brows in feigned confusion. Widen your eyes a little. Puff out your cheeks. 

Your adorableness makes him twitch against your hip. Jungkook sucks in a breath. Takes the hand that caressed your chin and glides it down your neck, your chest, your stomach that flexes under his touch until he winds up at the waistband of your skirt. There he stops and he tilts his head to the side, sweeping his tongue along the pillow of his bottom lip. 

“What I want,” he starts, his breathing quickening. “Is the little juice that is in here.” He skims the pads of his fingers down your mound, beneath the hem of your skirt and along the sopping surface of your clothed feminine flesh. You mewl, your hips instinctively riding his fingers, following the sailing, back and forth motion. Your adorableness deepens with the influence of the sudden pleasure by the way it scrunches up your features and Jungkook whimpers again, stopping his motions when he feels you timidly soak his fingers. “I want it so bad that I can’t go one more minute without it.” 

You glance down more to see how big of a mess you’re making on his hand, but as attuned as he is to his role, brought about by his arousal, Jungkook takes your breath away with his following actions. 

He moves you closer to the mirror. Bunches up your skirt even higher so you have a perfect view of your panties, which have a large wet spot in the middle. Little rivulets of your juices flow out of their confines and down your inner thighs, proceeding to make a puddle on the hardwood floors beneath your feet. Jungkook’s fingers are shiny in the light, coated in your lustfulness, and he drifts them up and down that stain—over your swollen clit and sensitive lips. 

“See? Here. This little wet princess part of you is what I crave.”

And just like that, owing to his words, you flourish into the little girl you haven’t been safely dwelling in for months, sliding into that role as easily, tenderly and meekly as if you were slipping your feet into your fluffy slippers. You regress, beautifully, making sweet little noises into his neck as you go to hide in there, poking his drink into his hand, silently telling him to take it while you rub your sticky thighs together, eager to get the uncomfortable throbbing feeling away. And he does, solid in his own caretaker role, sinking down onto his knees, placing the drink on the floor against the mirror. But he remains there, looking up at you, eyes big and round, yet still steady, sure, mature and irrevocably dependable. And you sense those eyes to be telling you to take your panties off and give the Daddy what he craves. 

You hook your thumbs under the waistband of your underwear and drag it down past the middle of your thighs, letting him handle the rest, but you catch his eyes watering ever so gently—and the discovery causes your heart to skip a beat. He’s taken in the role you’ve slipped into, having watched it happen in real time in all its glory, and perhaps he’s nostalgic, or perhaps he’s just euphoric, but he takes the time to bask in it all. 

And he kisses the cotton fabric of your panties first before he kisses the soft flesh of your thigh. Drags it down. Lets it pool in his hands at your ankles. Peeks up at you. 

“The way you willingly give yourself over to me never fails to mesmerize me,” he purrs, pressing another kiss to your thigh without taking his eyes off of you. Your stomach jumps, energy-charged butterflies scurrying to the front of your stomach in longing to kiss him, too. “You’ve been feeling bad about being needy for me. Worked hard for weeks to be a good girl, but what you don’t know, princess, is that you were a good girl even when you called me up at work asking for me,” he continues, lips brushing against your skin with every pronounced vowel. He edges around your knee and begins to pepper gentle, wet kisses there. Your mouth falls open—and you discover this place is a spot of more sensitivity than your neck. You double over, grabbing a tight hold of his tousled, yet soft hair, and Jungkook moans against you. “And you’re a good girl right now for giving yourself over to me, even when you’re so careful about being horny for me in public.” 

Your body forces out the same kind of noises, so tender and pained, your heart rapidly kicking against your ribcage. Your arousal is heightened by his words carrying such devastating praise, even when the most inert core of you aches for such different debauchery—the very opposite of what he’s giving you. 

You leak for him, nonetheless. 

Unable to take it anymore, Jungkook cradles your ankles and carefully rids you of your ruined panties, half-stuffing them into the front pocket of his jeans. A tiny bit of the pink fabric sticks out of it and the sight intoxicates you, pulling you deeper into your little space. Even more so when he finishes his praise because he wasn’t done yet. Not quite. 

“And to see you be little for me so prettily again after such a long time,” he husks, spreading your legs far apart enough to see that gleaming rivulet make its way down the inner of your thigh. “That makes me the happiest man in the world, princess. I missed you. God, I missed you.” 

Jungkook leans in and, with his tongue flat against your inner thigh, he collects the little juice you leak for him. He moans at the taste, but the sound is broken by a cry marked by yearning for more. He doesn’t stop there—he delves immediately, without sparing a second, into your lap with such a verve that your back crashes against the still fogged up mirror. His mouth seizes your clit, making kissing sounds as he laps and sucks at it with a hunger that could never be replicated in the arts. You grip his hair tighter for support, almost sliding down the mirror while struggling to contain your noises, the pleasure permeating every inch of your body that is ultimately submitted to him. The pressure of the delight he’s giving you deepens when he places one of your thighs on his shoulder, helping you take it while he continues to moan into your pussy and eat her like she deserves. 

But you can’t take it. Not at all. Not when he begins to flick his tongue on your clit in a way that he does. 

Your foot slips, but Jungkook is in control. He makes sure you land on your bum safely and painlessly, not once ripping his mouth off your cunt. His eyes continue to be steady, fixed on you, narrowed into such thin, alluring slits that it hastens your sweet release. You hiccup as you take little breaths, overwhelmed by it all. Your cheeks burn, and the fire spreads down your limbs, leaping over to your boyfriend at work, who glows with a rosy tint. Jungkook pulls away a little bit, dripping in arousal and perspiration, and he allows you to see his technique in all its glory. 

The tip of his tongue stimulates your engorged clit with rapid, hard flicks. 

Your orgasm inches closer and closer. Jungkook pushes your legs all the way back until you’re a squished mochi that he can’t get enough of, and when he puts a bigger pressure on your little bud, it is your absolute undoing. 

Closer and closer, the orgasm takes over you completely. From the top of your head to your little toes that flex in your sneakers, you begin to shake uncontrollably as the highest level of the delight bursts upon your body. Jungkook’s noises grow in volume simultaneously, enraptured as he is by the view of his created paradise unfolding over you—and he never stops looking at you. 

Not even as you come down from your high. 

Not even as he, with your little juice dripping down his chin, turns you around and stacks one of your feet on the mirror while he keeps the other leg back with his hand. His limbs surround you, and as you blink through the blinding fog of your orgasm, you realize that you accidentally managed to match your shoes with his. High Nike dunks, black. The ones he got for you as well when he bought a pair for himself. 

Your hole clenches in the mirror. A stream of your little juice makes a larger puddle on the floor beneath you. 

“Look at you dripping for me, fuck.” 

Hooking your leg over his right limb, he strums your entire feminine flesh with the four of his fingers, the squelching and squeaking sounds of your pussy pulling a tortured groan out of him as if he hadn’t gotten a taste of you a mere minute ago. His other hand sneaks to your tits to feel them up, stopping at your pebbled nipple, which he fondles as he breathes against you, inhaling your scent. Your hips buckle, your drenched seashell sensitive from his feast, and Jungkook lets out a pleased chuckle. 

“My pretty little pussy. Always so sensitive from all my love, huh?” 

You nod, meeting his gaze in the mirror, and Jungkook grins before he places a fat, rewarding kiss to your cheek, the two of his fingers, middle and ring, one of them adorned with that white Miffy plastic ring, starting a series of circles on your clit. 

Your hips buckle again, the pleasure soft yet dizzying, overwhelming your senses. Jungkook tightens his grip around you, squeezing your breast. 

“Whose pussy is this, princess?” 

In the middle of it all, a light bulb flicks to life once again in your woozy mind. And a pleased smile, just like his, begins to grow on your mouth. But Jungkook is impatient and you’re not responding fast enough for his taste, so he lifts his soaked fingers and uses them to grip your mouth. 

There it is. 

“I asked you a question. Whose pussy is this?” 

You’d bite your lip if he weren’t squishing your cheeks together, but your satisfied smile reaches your eyes, crinkling them. That causes him to relax his hold and give you a chance to give him the answer he seeks. 

Little does he know you’re about to manipulate him into giving you the sin that you desire. 

“This slutty little pussy is yours. Yours and no one else’s, Dada.” 

His brows twitch and light unrolls across his face, softening his features in a way you’ve never seen before. He curses, momentarily rolls his eyes back, and he plunges his wet fingers into his mouth before he seizes your mouth in a compulsive kiss that thoroughly shuts off your brain. You taste yourself on his tongue, and you comprehend he licked off his fingers and didn’t swallow only so you could get the treat he had himself—because he busies his fingers by burying them inside your fleshy heat. 

And he fucks you hard and doesn’t stop even when you begin to make intense little noises into his mouth. 

You struggle to kiss him back when he curls his fingers and pistons into you with rapid jerks from this angle. His other hand tugs your top upwards, finds its way into the cups of your bra just so he could pinch and rub your nipple in the way that you like. And when his tongue flicks against yours and his mouth purses softly against yours before he deepens the kiss, your orgasm hits you so unexpectedly that you’re as surprised as him once you come apart all over not just his hand, but the mirror, too. 

You splatter it with your little juice and even then, Jungkook doesn’t stop. Growling with heavy breaths, he strums your clit as fast as he can until there’s nothing left you can give to him. 

You slump against him, high on the complexity of yours and his aphrodisiac love. Specks of your glitter—your small shooting stars gravitate down to your flushed cheeks, and then his fingers are in your mouth, traveling far down and deep until you grace him with the sound he likes. You gag around them and he nods, pleased, smirking. 

“Good girl. Your slutty little juice tastes good, doesn’t it, baby?” he asks, and your stomach springs, your drunken feelings intensified by the fact you finally got what you yearned for. “Your mouth makes me fucking crazy. Dada, slutty pussy. I’m gonna lose my mind.” 

You mewl, your eyes heavy, but you want more—you want his cock, and he can feel it, he knows it. He knows it when he pulls out his fingers and kisses you as if the world was meant to end in the next minute. He knows it because he withdraws and he tells you. 

“Dada’s gonna fuck that slutty little pussy of his, hm?” Jungkook murmurs, and then his zipper is down, and just like the old times—he doesn’t rid himself of his clothes and gives you a brand new world with his strokes just the way he is. 

Fully clothed, with his hard drooling cock poking out of his unzipped jeans. 

He presses you against your wet juices on the mirror, spitting on his hand and lubricating the tip of his manhood. He enters you and you gasp, fogging up the mirror with your breath, and the hand that holds your head steady against the mirror buries into your hair while the other wraps around your hip. He sheathes himself inside you slowly whilst your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of finally being stretched out by him and once he bottoms out, it’s over. 

Your life is over.

“Dada’s pussy always so tight.” 

He pounds into you religiously—creating a new order for this brand new world. Hard, merciless strokes that scramble your brain and turn it into a mush. Your ass ripples with each collision and his noises melt into yours, a hymn for the utopia he’s fucking you into. And then he’s lifting you from the mirror and keeping you flush to himself, staring at you in the reflection while your tits spill out from your bra, bouncing, and Jungkook can’t get enough. Both of his hands drag down your straps, freeing your breasts, and he’s groping them, pinching your nipples without ever stopping the entrancing snapping of his hips. 

“Pretty princess getting fucked. Look at you. So pretty and all mine.” 

And then his Miffy-adorned finger is back on your clit, rubbing hard circles, and your personal world is finished—because your pleasure is his ultimate undoing. 

The smacking of skin quietens and his hips begin to roll—a languid, staccato version of his choreo that got you all needy and wet but an hour ago. Jungkook whimpers into your ear how much he loves you, over and over again, as he stuffs you full of his cum, and he doesn’t stop rubbing your swollen little clit until you come all over his twitching cock. 

And he doesn’t pull away. 

He holds you like this, panting into your neck, his grip still tight, still evoking a sense of safety you won’t find anywhere else. Your drowsy eyelids flit, consider yourself well-spent, and the thought begins to sing a celebratory song in your chest—because all that hard work paid off. 

You’re no longer greedy; you’re gratified after the first round. 

Jungkook kisses the nape of your neck. “We should go before Bunny and Vinny start wondering where we are.” 

The song wraps around your heart, which dissolves at his words. Jungkook pulls himself out of you, but you swivel around and throw your arms around him, catching him off guard. His still erect and wet length brushes against your thigh—and the contact makes you quiver in his arms.

“I feel good,” you explain into his ear. “I don’t need more.” 

Jungkook chuckles. Wants to look at your face and he smooths your hair back, grinning at you. “I’m proud of you, princess, but look,” he says, glancing down. You follow his gaze down and perceive he’s talking about his private parts. “I’m still hard.” 

His cock twitches at his words and twitches once more at the sound of your giggles—happy, happy giggles because the stigma behind your neediness withers and completely disappears, never to be found again, only because Jungkook isn’t embarrassed or afraid to show you he needs more. Your chest becomes light, light enough that you think you grew a pair of wings to fly around the room with.

“Gym, Gguk. You have to hit the gym more often,” you joke, knowing his work out schedule transcends beyond the five days you spend at the place. 

The corner of his mouth curls as mischief twinkles in his eyes, divulging to you that he likes the way you challenge him. 

“Oh yeah?” he questions, lifting his arm, pulling back the oversized sleeve of his T-shirt to flex his biceps. Your cheeks heat up at the strong mountains that appear and your hand can’t help but to knead it. “These aren’t big enough for you, huh?” 

You scoff and shush him at the same time, leaning over to plant a singular kiss to his muscles. Jungkook uses the opportunity to hide you in his embrace and you both sputter into laughs and giggles. He pecks your hair, but something interrupts your sweet moment. 

“Look at the mess you made,” he says, pointing at the mirror, and you gasp when you turn around. 

An imprint of the side of your face is left behind on the reflection. Foundation, mascara and glitter amidst the little pearls and rivulets of your juices. You worry what you look like now if your make-up is smeared to this extent, but it soon is washed away from your mind when Jungkook crawls forward and makes a heart on the wetness of your slick. 

He takes a picture of it and then he cleans it off with his gym towel. The floor, too. 

At home, you fuck him hard for it. 

With his Taro boba in his arm, Vinny on his chest and Bunny in the crook of his other arm, you ride him until your thighs burn and he resembles the prettiest rose you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Having come more than enough on his cock, you jerk him off while you flick your tongue on his tip, and he moans, flushes and convulses until he spills all over your hand and his stomach. Ropes of him cum reach the plushies, too, as he can’t stop coming and, growing feignedly jealous, you swallow him, longing for him to drip down your throat. 

He comes so much that your belly is full and he’s as gratified as you were in the practice room. 

And after a quick shower, you both drift off to your brand new world unexpectedly, the events of the day having exhausted you enough that you fall asleep within the next heartbeat. Vinny and Bunny tumble on in the washing machine while you and Jungkook dance in the new paradise, having stepped into the role of parents having a date without the kids. No stress, no stigma—just the freedom of being loved right. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

BACK to masterlist

[isaadore]

BOUND BY TWO HEARTBEATS LUKE HUGHES

pairing dad!luke hughes x mom!reader

SUMMARY an unexpected pregnancy challenges your relationship with luke, forcing you both to rethink your future together. however, despite the uncertainty, luke stays by your side, and the pregnancy brings you two closer than ever. word count 3.6k

warnings fluff with slight angst, use of y/n, fem!reader, mentions of birth, unplanned pregnancy, mild arguments

note first ever luke fic! hope u guys enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it 🤞 also, i apologize for the cheesy hockey references 😕 i just thought luke would be the type to make those

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THE PREGNANCY TEST felt heavy in your hand as you sat on the edge of the couch, staring blankly at the coffee table. Two pink lines. The confirmation was there, undeniable, and yet you felt stuck in a haze of disbelief.

Luke would be home soon. The thought made your stomach twist. What would he say? Would he be excited? Scared? You didn’t know how to prepare for a conversation that could go in so many different directions.

The sound of the front door unlocking made your heart jump. Luke stepped inside, his hockey bag slung over one shoulder, hair slightly dishevelled from his post-practice shower. He didn’t notice you right away, too busy slipping off his sneakers.

“Hey,” he greeted casually, dropping his gear by the door. His voice softened when he looked up and saw you sitting there, still as a statue. “Everything okay?”

You swallowed, gripping the test tighter in your hand. “We need to talk.”

Luke frowned, the playful ease on his face fading instantly. He dropped his keys on the counter and made his way over, sitting down next to you. “What’s going on?”

You held out the test without a word, unable to meet his gaze. The silence that followed was unbearable. Finally, you risked a glance at him.

Luke stared at the test, his expression unreadable. His jaw tensed, and he exhaled sharply through his nose. “You’re… pregnant?”

“Yeah.” Your voice cracked on the single word.

He ran a hand through his hair, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “Okay. Okay,” he said, as if trying to convince himself.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” you blurted, your chest tightening. “I just—I needed to tell you. I know it’s a lot, and I know it wasn’t part of the plan, but—”

“Of course it wasn’t part of the plan,” Luke interrupted, his voice low and firm. He turned to you; his brows knit together. “We’re not ready for this, Y/N. I’m not ready for this.”

The words stung, even though you’d braced yourself for them. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, trying to hold yourself together. “Do you think I am? I didn’t exactly ask for this either, Luke.”

He sighed, running his hands over his face. “I just—I don’t know what to do. This changes everything.”

“I know it does,” you said quietly. “But it’s happening whether we’re ready or not.”

Luke stood, pacing the length of the living room. His movements were restless like he was trying to escape his own thoughts. “I mean, what are people gonna say? My career’s just getting started, and now—”

“And now what?” you snapped, unable to hold back anymore. “Now you’re stuck with me and a kid? Is that what you’re worried about?”

He stopped in his tracks, his face falling. “That’s not what I meant,” he said softly, guilt clouding his eyes.

“Then what did you mean?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Because I’m scared too, Luke. I’m terrified. But I can’t do this alone, and I don’t know what you’re thinking right now.”

Luke’s shoulders slumped, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he sank back onto the couch, his head in his hands. “I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can be the kind of dad a kid deserves. I don’t even know if I’m ready to try.”

Your anger softened at his vulnerability, and you reached out, hesitating before placing a hand on his back. “I don’t have all the answers either,” you said gently. “But I know we’ll figure it out. Together.”

He lifted his head, looking at you, his eyes glassy. “You really think we can do this?”

“I don’t think it’ll be easy,” you admitted. “But I know I want to try. And I know I need you with me.”

Luke reached for your hand, gripping it tightly. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick. “I’m sorry I freaked out. I just… I love you, and I don’t want to screw this up.”

“You won’t,” you said, squeezing his hand. “We won’t.”

For the first time that evening, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Okay,” he said, nodding. “We’ll figure this out.”

THREE WEEKS LATER

It had been weeks since you told Luke you were pregnant, and while things between you had softened, an unspoken tension still lingered. You were both trying, Luke especially. He had been sticking around more, helping out with things he never used to notice, like stocking the pantry with your favourite snacks or making sure the coffee pot was always ready in the morning. But sometimes, you’d catch him staring off into space, lost in thought and his jaw tight.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The two of you sat on the couch, a documentary playing on the TV that neither of you was really watching. Your legs were tucked under a blanket while Luke sat at the other end, absently fiddling with the strings of his hoodie.

“Luke,” you said softly, pulling his attention away from the screen.

He looked over at you, his blue eyes clouded with worry. “Yeah?”

“How are you feeling about… everything?”

He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line before he sighed. “Honestly? Still kind of overwhelmed,” he admitted. “Every day, it sinks in more, but I don’t know if I’m doing enough. Or if I can even do enough.”

“Luke, you’re here,” you said gently. “That’s more than enough for me right now.”

“Yeah, but just being here doesn’t mean I’ve got it all figured out,” he countered, frustration creeping into his voice. “What happens when the baby actually gets here? What if I mess it all up?”

“You won’t,” you said firmly, shifting closer to him. “And you don’t need to have all the answers right now.”

He rubbed a hand over his face and leaned back against the couch. “I just want to be good at this,” he murmured. “For you. For the baby.”

Your heart ached at his honesty. Reaching out, you placed your hand over his. “You already are,” you said. “The fact that you care this much, that you’re thinking about it every second, it shows how much this means to you. And that’s what matters.”

Luke turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with yours. He didn’t say anything right away, but his grip tightened as if holding on to you grounded him.

“I looked up some stuff earlier,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Stuff?”

“Yeah… about pregnancy. What you’re going through, what I should be doing to help. I even looked up prenatal vitamins to make sure you’re taking the right ones.” He let out a nervous laugh. “I guess I just needed to feel like I was doing something, you know?”

Your chest tightened, warmth spreading through you at his confession. “Luke,” you said softly, leaning your head on his shoulder. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” he teased lightly. “I’m still figuring this out.”

“We both are,” you reminded him.

He rested his cheek against the top of your head, the tension in his body easing for the first time that night. “Do you think we’ll be good at this? At being parents?”

“I think we’ll be better than we give ourselves credit for,” you said.

A comfortable silence settled between you. For a moment, the weight of everything seemed lighter.

“You know,” he said, a mix of nerves and excitement in his voice, “I was thinking… maybe we could tell my parents soon if you’re ready. They’d probably want to know.”

Your breath hitched. It was a big step, one that made the pregnancy feel even more real. His expression was hopeful yet hesitant. You nodded.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice steady. “I think I’m ready.”

Luke smiled for the first time in days, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “We’ve got this,” he whispered.

SEVERAL DAYS LATER

You sat in the passenger seat of Luke’s car, watching the scenery blur as you made your way to his parents’ house. The test, the doctor’s appointment, and the initial shock were behind you, but this, telling Luke’s parents, felt like a challenge on its own.

Luke’s grip on the steering wheel was tight. His jaw was set, and his lips were pressed into a thin line.

“You okay?” you asked softly.

He glanced at you and forced a small smile. “Yeah. Just thinking about how to say it.”

You reached over and placed your hand on his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “They’re going to be happy, Luke. It’s Ellen and Jim. They love us.”

“I know,” he sighed. “But it’s still a lot. What if they think we’re too young or that it’ll mess up my career?”

“Your mom will probably cry, your dad will give some practical advice, and then we’ll all hug. It’ll be fine.”

Luke nodded but didn’t seem convinced.

When you arrived at the Hughes’ home, the familiar smells of freshly baked cookies and the sound of hockey commentary from the living room made you feel more at ease. Ellen greeted you both with a warm hug, calming your nerves a little.

“You’re just in time! I made peanut butter cookies,” she said, ushering you into the kitchen.

“It was Luke’s favourite,” Jim teased from the dining table, where he was tasting one of the freshly baked cookies.

“Still is,” Luke said with a weak laugh, earning a curious look from his dad.

The four of you settled into the living room. Ellen and Jim began small talk with the both of you, but the weight of the real reason for your visit sat on your shoulders.

Ellen caught on first. “Is everything okay?” she asked, tilting her head. “You both seem… nervous.”

Luke’s hand found yours, his fingers lacing tightly with yours. He cleared his throat and glanced at you for reassurance.

“Yeah, uh, everything’s fine,” he said. “Actually, it’s more than fine. We just—we have some news.”

Jim folded his arms and leaned forward slightly. “What kind of news?”

Luke looked at you again, and you gave him a small nod. He took a deep breath.

“We’re… we’re having a baby,” he said, the words tumbling out quickly.

For a moment, the room was silent. Ellen’s mouth opened slightly, her eyes darting between the two of you. Jim’s brow furrowed as he processed the news.

“You’re pregnant?” Ellen finally asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and excitement.

You nodded. “Yes.”

And then, as predicted, Ellen burst into tears. “Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hands. “That’s amazing news!”

Jim leaned back in his chair, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Well, that’s a big step. Congratulations, you two.”

Ellen jumped up, pulling both you and Luke into a tight hug. “I can’t believe it! A baby! I’m going to be a grandma!”

Luke exhaled, his tension visibly easing. “You’re not mad?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“Mad?” Ellen pulled back, hands on his cheeks. “Luke, this is wonderful. It’ll be a lot of work, but you two are going to be amazing parents. And we’ll help every step of the way.”

“Absolutely,” Jim added, standing to join the group hug. “You’re not alone in this. Family is everything.”

Luke looked at you, his blue eyes shining with relief. “Told you,” you whispered, and he chuckled softly.

The rest of the evening was filled with talks about baby names, parenting advice, and promises of Ellen knitting baby hats. The weight on Luke’s shoulders seemed to lift with his parents’ excitement.

Later that night, as you drove home, Luke reached over and took your hand. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“For what?”

“For reminding me this is going to be okay,” he said. “And for being the best girlfriend I could ask for.”

You squeezed his hand, a smile tugging at your lips. “We’ve got this,” you said, echoing his words from a few days ago.

He smiled at that.

DURING THE SECOND TRIMESTER

You hadn’t even opened your eyes yet, but you could already feel Luke moving around the room. The faint clatter of plates and the smell of something burning told you exactly what was going on.

With a sleepy laugh, you called out, “Luke, are you trying to set the kitchen on fire?”

There was a beat of silence before his voice responded, a little defensive. “It’s not burning; it’s just… toasty.”

You rolled out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen, finding him standing at the stove in sweatpants and an old Michigan hoodie, waving a spatula at the smoking pan. He glanced at you sheepishly.

“Breakfast in bed,” he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess: eggs and toast?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, grinning despite himself. “Figured it was safe enough.”

You walked over and slipped your arms around his waist, resting your head against his back. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

He turned the stove off and faced you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I wanted to. You’re growing a whole human; the least I can do is make you breakfast.”

You laughed, lightly swatting him on the chest. “Maybe stick to smoothies next time.”

Luke’s attentiveness did not stop there.

At night, he would lie next to you, his hand on your stomach, waiting for a kick. The first time he felt one, his eyes lit up like he’d just scored in overtime.

“That’s insane,” he whispered, staring at your belly like it held the secrets of the universe. “They’re really in there.”

“Where else would they be?” you teased, but your heart swelled at the wonder in his voice.

Then there were the books.

Stacks of them appeared on the coffee table, everything from practical guides to detailed pregnancy manuals. You often found him flipping through them late at night, squinting at diagrams and detailed instructions.

One evening, you caught him staring at a page about swaddling techniques. His brow furrowed, lips moving slightly as if rehearsing the steps.

“You know,” you said, sitting down beside him, “babies don’t come with instruction manuals.”

“Yeah, but they should,” he muttered, holding up the book. “I mean, look at this! Who knew folding a blanket could be this complicated?”

You laughed, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You’re going to be a great dad, Luke. Blanket folding skills or not.”

And then there was decorating the nursery.

Luke spent most of his free time preparing the nursery. He assembled the crib (after three tries), organized baby clothes by size, and insisted on painting the walls himself.

“You don’t have to do all of this,” you told him one afternoon as he measured for curtains.

“I want to,” he replied without missing a beat. “I want everything to be perfect for them.”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder at you. “And for you.”

But it wasn’t just the big gestures. It was the small ones that meant the most.

It was the way he kept a stash of salt-and-vinegar chips in the pantry because they were your latest craving.

It was the way he always adjusted the pillows behind your back whenever you sat down, muttering about “keeping you comfortable.”

It was the way he sent texts during away games, even if he only had a few minutes between practices and games.

How are you feeling today?

Are you drinking enough water?

One night, as you lay in bed, Luke traced patterns on your stomach, his voice quiet.

“I still don’t know if I’m ready,” he admitted. “But I want to be. And I want to make sure you never feel like you’re doing this alone.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together. “You already make me feel that way, Luke.”

He exhaled slowly, tension leaving his body. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’ll keep trying, every day.”

A COUPLE MONTHS LATER

You lay on the couch, scrolling through your phone and trying to ignore the dull, persistent pain in your back. Luke was a few feet away, aimlessly passing a foam puck between his hands, clearly restless. He hadn’t stopped fidgeting for days now, and you couldn’t blame him; your due date had come and gone, and you were both on edge.

“I think this kid’s taking after you already,” you teased, glancing up at him. “Always late to the party.”

Luke smirked, tossing the puck onto the coffee table. “Or they’re just waiting for the perfect time, like a game-winning goal.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could reply, a sharp, unfamiliar pain ripped through your stomach, stealing your breath. You instinctively pressed a hand to your belly, eyes wide.

“Y/N?” Luke asked, his voice laced with concern as he immediately sat up straighter. “What’s wrong?”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but then you felt it: the unmistakable sensation of your water breaking. “Luke,” you said, your voice shaking slightly, “my water just broke.”

For a second, Luke froze, staring at you like you’d just announced the world was ending. Then he shot to his feet, panic written all over his face. “Wait—what? Like, right now? Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure, unless I suddenly forgot how to hold my bladder,” you said dryly, but the wave of another contraction cut off your sarcasm.

Luke bolted into action, scrambling around the room like a tornado. “Okay, okay, uh, the hospital bag! Where’s the bag? And your shoes! Do you have shoes? Oh my god, should we call an ambulance? No, wait, we can drive—we can drive. Right?”

“Luke,” you said through gritted teeth, gripping the arm of the couch. “The bag is by the door, my shoes are on my feet, and yes, we can drive. Just breathe.”

He stopped mid-spin, exhaling sharply, trying to calm himself down. “Right. Breathe. I can do that. I’m breathing.”

“Good,” you said, trying not to laugh despite the pain. “Now grab the keys, and let’s go before this baby decides to make their debut on the living room floor.”

The car ride to the hospital was a blur of speeding, frequent checks to make sure you were okay, and Luke muttering to himself under his breath. “This is fine. We’ve got this. Totally fine.”

“Luke,” you said through another contraction, your voice tight, “you’re doing great, but maybe slow down just a little. I’d rather not get a speeding ticket.”

“Right, right, sorry,” he said, easing up on the gas pedal but still darting worried glances your way.

By the time you were settled into a delivery room, Luke had transformed into a nervous ball of energy. He was constantly by your side, holding your hand so tightly it almost hurt, peppering you with questions.

“Do you need water? Or ice? Or a back rub? Oh my god, am I supposed to be doing something? Should I call someone?”

You squeezed his hand, managing a small smile between contractions. “You’re doing fine, Luke. Just stay here with me, okay?”

His eyes softened, and he nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

Hours passed in a haze of pain, encouragement, and Luke’s endless stream of reassurances. “You’re so strong, Y/N. You’re amazing. You’re doing so well. I love you so much.”

And when the time finally came to push, his face was a mix of awe and sheer terror as he stood by your side, holding your hand as if his life depended on it.

“You’ve got this,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re incredible, Y/N. I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s a boy!” one of the nurses announced, and Luke’s hand dropped from yours as he turned to look.

The doctor carefully placed the baby on your chest, and Luke froze, staring down at the tiny, wriggling bundle in awe.

“Is that…” His voice cracked. “That’s our son.”

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as you looked down at your baby boy. “Yeah. That’s him.”

Luke’s hands shook as he reached out, gently brushing a finger against the baby’s cheek. The baby’s cries quieted slightly, and Luke let out a shaky laugh.

“Hi, buddy,” he whispered, his voice filled with wonder. “I’m your dad. And you… you’re perfect.”

Later, in the quiet hospital room, Luke sat beside you, cradling your son in his arms. The baby had fallen asleep, his tiny fist wrapped around Luke’s finger.

“He’s so small,” Luke murmured, his eyes never leaving the baby’s face. “How is he so small?”

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “They don’t come out NHL-sized, you know.”

He chuckled softly, the sound filled with awe. “I can’t believe we made him. That he’s ours.”

You reached out, gently stroking the baby’s head. “What should we name him?”

Luke hesitated for a moment, then looked at you, his eyes shining. “How about Caden?” he suggested quietly. “You always liked that name.”

“Caden Hughes,” you said, testing it out. “I love it.”

As the three of you lay in the hospital room, Luke sat beside you, cradling the baby in his arms with a look of pure adoration.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving Caden’s face, “I didn’t think it was possible, but I think I just fell in love with you all over again.”

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “Me too.”

And in that moment, everything felt exactly as it should be.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ MAIN MASTERLIST ✷ LH43 MASTERLIST

[dukeofankh]

Folks, social media is not a courtroom. Presumption of innocence is a feature of the legal system, not social media. Like...nobody was following that for Cosby or Weinstein prior to their convictions. It's not something people care about or need to care about because they're not fucking lawyers.

Does the NYPD frame people? Oh hell yeah. Does it seem at all likely that they have framed this guy, given his search history, what we know about his history from friends, ect? Not really. Could that all have been fabricated? I mean, maybe, but that's not stuffing a bag of coke in someone's pocket and "finding" it, that's much bigger. That would be, I believe the word is, forgive me, a conspiracy. So the idea that that has happened would be a theory that there has been a conspiracy. A conspiracy theory, if you will.

Does that mean it's wrong? No. But the preponderance of evidence that has been found so far makes it seem pretty obvious that it's this guy to most people who are paying attention. And honestly? None of that fucking matters, because no matter what people like to think, you cannot blog so good that you alter the course of this man's legal fate. They are not going to decide his guilt or innocence via Tumblr poll.

Like. Part of what's happening here is that there are two distinct groups in support of this man at this time, with mutually exclusive strategies of support. One is running the "he's innocent" route, saying "don't believe literally anything cops say, anything that authority figures say about him can be dismissed as a lie" which, I mean, I dunno man. After COVID, after seeing the less-weak-than-im-fully-comfortable-with BlueAnon shit after the US election, I am significantly worn out on "I don't wike it so it isn't real" thinking. Even if it's useful short term, there are serious fucking long term consequences to the health of your movement and just general mental health.

If you are doing that but don't believe it, like you know he's probably the guy but say he isn't because you think that if we all just collectively refuse to accept the official story, it can't be put into effect or something...I mean, what world do you live in? Sounds like fun. Much better than the real world.

The other group, the one I tend to align far more with, says, "uh, hell yeah he did it. Good. Brian Thompson was a mass murderer and this is self defence by the American people. Jury Nullification, baby. Hell, even if he gets convicted the next Democratic candidate should run on pardoning him of the federal charges, and whoever is running for the NY governorship should run on pardoning him of the state charges. We should use this man as a symbol, a wedge issue, because honestly, it seems like even if right wing people are very selfish, it turns out that if you fuck literally everyone over, people will selfishly end up having very similar views on this issue regardless of traditional party lines and that is fantastically useful in a political landscape that is so ossified otherwise."

I don't really think it's fair to dismiss the idea that that guy might have been framed for killing the CEO as like an unfounded conspiracy theory when NYPD has a proven history of planting/fabricating evidence on people. in 2011 there was a massive investigation of the NYPD and hundreds of cases against people were dismissed after a former police officer testified that they literally have a name for planting evidence on people: flaking. you cannot be out here acting like considering the possibility that cops who do this shit under normal circumstances might possibly also do it when they're under intense global pressure and scrutiny is the same as republicans thinking democrats run a secret pedophile ring in the basement of a pizza restaurant

[insidekatmind]

Skincare~Jude Bellingham

It was a perfect afternoon, the kind of day when everything seemed to be going right. Sunlight filtered through the curtains of your room, painting golden streaks across the floor. You’d spent the morning planning a special little ritual: today you were going to convince Jude to do his skincare.

It hadn't been easy to drag him into this adventure. When he'd knocked on the door with his usual mischievous smile, you hadn't even waited to let him step inside before you'd already announced your plan.

"Babe, today it's your turn to take care of your skin," you'd declared, crossing your arms defiantly.

Jude had raised an eyebrow, an amused smile lighting up his face. "Oh yeah? And who decided?"

"Of course. Come on, I've got everything ready," you'd replied, pulling him by the hand towards your room.

"You're adorable when you're this determined," he'd whispered, leaning in to give you a light kiss on the lips. "But you know I won't stay still, right?"

Despite his initial protests, Jude had let himself be led. Now he was sitting on the bed, with you straddling his lap, your products spread out beside you. His hands were on your hips, a sly smile on his face.

"I'm hating this," he said, but his fingers were moving slowly, tracing light circles on your skin.

"I don't feel like you're hating it that much," you replied, trying to ignore the heat that spread every time he touched you.

"I get distracted," he murmured, leaning close enough to touch your nose. "It's hard to concentrate when you're sitting here, my love."

With an amused sigh, you cupped his face in your hands. "Jude, if you keep this up, we'll never finish. Now stay still."

"All I care about is that you're here," he said, his tone soft, but his eyes shining with that mischievous spark you loved so much.

You began to clean his face with a cleanser, massaging it with gentle movements. Jude closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself go. But it didn't last long. After a few seconds, one of his hands had already moved to your back, gently caressing it.

"I just can't keep still," he admitted, laughing softly. "You're too close."

"Jude!" you protested, but your smile gave you away. "Do you want perfect skin or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine," he replied, but then added, "But if I can't kiss you at the end, it's not worth it."

You shook your head, laughing, and finally applied a mask to his face. The contrast between his always confident attitude and the fact that he now looked like a panda was hilarious.

"Don't say anything," Jude said, holding up a hand as if to stop you. "I already know. I look ridiculous."

"Not ridiculous," you replied, giving him a light kiss on the tip of his nose. "Adorable."

Jude stared at you for a moment, then burst out laughing, the deep sound making you melt every time. "You're terrible. But I still love you.

"I love you too," you whispered, leaning against him as you waited for the mask to take effect. Despite his complaints, his hands never left yours, continuing to trace imaginary lines on your skin, as if it was the only way he knew how to remind you how much you meant to him.

[silverstar70]

Fandom: Criminal minds Character: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Author's note: English isn't my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

Summary: Helping Hotch turned into something more.

Warnings: 🔞‼️ established relationship, smut, oral sex, vaginal sex, finger fucking, orgasm edging, praise kink, consensual sex, domestic fluff, comfort.

Words count: 6,415k Hope you like it! Enjoy it!

Need help?

The sharp tang of antiseptic filled the air as Aaron Hotchner stepped out of the bathroom, his right shoulder swaddled in bandages. The bullet had been removed successfully the week before, but the ache still lingered. He hated being out of commission, even temporarily. Hotch was a man of routine and discipline, and this forced rest grated on his nerves.

Y/N watched him from the couch, her gaze softening as she took in his stiff posture and the dark circles under his eyes. She’d insisted on taking a few weeks off to help him recover, knowing that even if injured he was unwilling and too stubborn to admit he needed help. And Hotch, of course, was the epitome of stubbornness.

“How’s the shoulder?” she asked, setting aside the book she’d been pretending to read.

“Fine,” he replied curtly, his voice clipped. He didn’t like talking about his injuries, much less admitting to any discomfort. But she noticed the slight wince as he adjusted his sling.

“Liar,” she teased, standing up and walking over to him. “You’re terrible at hiding it, you know.”

He gave her a pointed look, but she only smiled, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I’m fine, Y/N,” he repeated, softer this time.

“Sure you are.” She reached out and smoothed a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. “Have you eaten?”

He hesitated, and that was already an answer. Y/N sighed, her hands finding her hips. “Aaron, you need to take care of yourself. And that includes eating something more substantial than coffee.”

“I’ll make something later,” he said, brushing past her toward the bedroom. “I just need a minute.”

She let him go, knowing better than pushing too hard. But she considered preparing a proper meal anyway. She’d learned to read between the lines with him—her training and years of knowing him came in hand with situations like that.

*

The next morning, Y/N woke to the sound of muffled cursing from the bathroom. She frowned when she realized the bed near her was empty, before padding toward the door. It was ajar, and through the crack, she saw Hotch standing in front of the mirror, razor in hand.

“Hotch,” she called, pushing the door open. He froze, his jaw tightening as he met her gaze in the mirror. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t turn, though she saw the faintest flicker of guilt in his reflection. “Shaving,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“With your left hand?”

He paused for half a second before continuing, his movements slow and deliberate. “I’m left-handed.”

“You shave with your right hand” she corrected, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward him.

He sighed but didn’t look at her. “It’s fine. I’ve got it under control.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she watched him attempt another pass with the razor. His fingers were steady, but the angle was awkward, and the strain on his face told Y/N all she needed to know.

“Of course, you have,” she said, drawing out the words.

The sentence was cut short by a muffled curse as the razor nicked the skin just below his cheekbone and a bead of blood welled up instantly.

“Damn it,” he muttered, finally setting the razor down on the edge of the sink.

She couldn’t help but laugh. It was soft and affectionate, but it earned her a sharp look from him in the mirror. “It’s not funny,” he grumbled.

“It’s a little funny,” Y/N said, stepping closer. She plucked the razor from his hand before he could protest and reached for the hand towel hanging by the sink. “Why didn’t you ask for help?”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” he muttered, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment.

Y/N shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Aaron, you’re recovering from a gunshot wound. Helping you isn’t a bother.” She grabbed a damp cloth and gently wiped away the blood. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I didn’t think it would be this hard. I’m used to doing things myself.”

“I know,” she said, her tone light but her eyes warm. “Let me help. Sit.”

He hesitated, but the look she gave him left no room for argument. Reluctantly, he perched on the edge of the bathtub. Y/N lathered up a fresh shaving cream, her movements precise and deliberate.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asked dryly as she tilted his chin up.

“Immensely,” she replied, her lips twitching. “It’s not every day I get to see SSA Hotchner at my mercy.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, the sound low and warm. “Just don’t nick me.”

She worked carefully, her fingers steady as she guided the razor over his jawline. The intimacy of the moment didn’t pass on either of them. Her touch was gentle but firm, and he found himself relaxing under her care.

“You have too much pride sometimes,” she murmured as she rinsed the razor.

“I’ve been told that before,” he admitted.

“Well, consider this your lesson in humility.” She leaned closer, her breath warm against his skin. “And don’t worry, I’ll only tease you about it a little.”

“A little?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow.

She grinned, her eyes sparkling. “Okay, maybe a lot.”

His expression softened, and he reached up with his good hand to brush a strand of hair from her face. Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. Moments like this, when Aaron let his guard down completely, were rare and precious.

“You know,” you said after a moment, breaking the silence, “I think I like you with a little scruff.”

His eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N said, leaning in a little closer as she worked on his jawline. “Makes you look rugged.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh. “You have a type, then?”

“Oh, definitely,” she teased. “Brooding, stubborn, impossible men who can’t ask for help even when they’re bleeding.”

He smirked, the expression making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Sounds familiar.”

“It should,” Y/N shot back, her tone light.

She tilted his chin to the side, her fingers brushing against the warm skin of his neck. The movement was casual, but it sent a thrill through her and wondered if he felt it too.

“All done,” she said after a few more careful passes with the razor. Y/N stepped back, wiping the blade clean before setting it down. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

He looked up at her, his dark eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite name. “Thank you,” he said, his voice quiet but sincere.

Y/N smiled, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “Anytime.”

Her gaze met his, and the air between them shifted subtly. The playful banter faded, replaced by a palpable tension that thrummed with unspoken words. Y/N’s cheeks flushed under his intense scrutiny, and she tried to look away, but he tugged her closer, his grip firm yet tender.

“Aaron,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t respond immediately, instead, he stood, guiding Y/N backward until her hips bumped against the edge of the bathroom counter. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that started soft but deepened with each passing second.

Y/N tangled her fingers in his hair, her touch gentle yet eager as her nails scraped lightly against his scalp. He groaned softly into her mouth, the sound vibrating between them and sending a shiver down her spine.

“Aaron,” she whispered, her voice breathless as she broke the kiss, her lips brushing his in the barest of movements.

His dark eyes met hers, the heat in them unmistakable. He wasn’t just looking at her—he was consuming her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice soft but steady, her fingers trailing lightly down his jawline.

His response was immediate, his hand sliding to her waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of her shirt. “I’m sure,” he murmured, his tone rough with want.

He leaned in again, his lips finding hers with hunger. The kiss was anything but tentative now, his good hand slipping under her top to trace the curve of her waist. His fingers were warm and firm against her skin, sending sparks of heat coursing through her.

Y/N gasped softly as his touch ventured higher, his thumb grazing the edge of her ribcage. Y/N pulled back slightly, her breath mingling with his as her eyes searched his face. “Your shoulder,” she said, her tone laced with concern.

“Babe.” He called out, his voice, low and commanding, sending a shiver down her spine. His dark eyes locked onto hers, holding her in place as he cupped her face with his good hand.

“Shut up and let me take care of you.”

Her lips parted, but no protest came. The intensity in his gaze left no room for argument, only trust. She nodded faintly, and his expression softened, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured before capturing her lips again.

Her heart fluttered at his words as a shiver ran through her spine. The kiss grew more heated, a fire kindling between them that was impossible to ignore. Hotch’s hand slid up her back, pulling her closer as best as he could without straining his injured shoulder.

Her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging lightly as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. T

“Oh, God,” she breathed as his lips left hers, trailing down the column of her neck. He paused at the hollow of her throat, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin.

She gripped the counter behind her for support, her legs feeling unsteady as his kisses grew bolder. Her pajama top rode up further as his hand traveled upward, fingers tracing the dip of her waist and the curve of her ribcage.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered against her skin, the words raw and honest.

Her heart swelled at the confession, her body responding with a wave of warmth that made her press closer to him. She could feel the heat of his body through his pajama top, the fabric stretched slightly across his broad chest.

“Let me see you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the hem of her shirt and slowly pushed the fabric up, exposing inch after inch of her skin. She took her time, his gaze never leaving hers as she lifted the shirt over her head and let it fall to the floor.

His eyes roamed her body, darkening with appreciation. “Perfect,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She felt the blush rise to her cheeks but didn’t look away. His hand slid to the small of her back, guiding her against him as he pressed his hips to hers. The hard edge of the counter pressed into her lower back, but she barely noticed. All she could focus on was the way his body felt against hers, the heat radiating from him like a furnace.

She let out a soft gasp. “Aaron,” she breathed, her voice trembling with a mixture of desire and restraint.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against her skin, though the words were tinged with a hunger that betrayed his own struggle to hold back.

“Don’t,” she whispered, her hands sliding down to his chest.

His lips found hers again with no hesitation. The kiss was searing, their breaths mingling as the world outside the bathroom faded away. Y/N’s hands roamed over his t-shirt, careful to avoid his injured shoulder.

Hotch’s hand slipped over her waist, his fingers skimming along her side, igniting a trail of warmth. She shivered at his touch, her body instinctively arching toward him. The tension between them built steadily, the air thick with desire and unspoken need.

Aaron’s hands, strong and deliberate, roamed her body as if memorizing every curve. Her breath hitched when his fingers teased the waistband of her pajama pants, toying with the fabric. He gently tugged the pants and underwear down over her hips. She shifted to help him, the soft cotton falling at her feet.

“Up,” he murmured, his voice a gravelly command as he gestured to the counter behind her.

She instinctively hopped up onto it, her legs parting to accommodate him as he stepped between them. The cool surface of the countertop against her thighs was a stark contrast to the heat between them.

He stood before her, eyes darkened with desire, his breath shallow as he took in the sight of her. His gaze was hungry, but tender at the same time.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and full of admiration. His good hand cupped her face, pulling her lips to his in a soft kiss.

Her fingers ran through his hair, tugging him closer. She wanted him, needed him, and she could feel the way he responded—his body leaning into hers, his hand moving lower as if it had a mind of its own. His hard cock pressed against her core made her wetter by the second.

She was breathless as Aaron pulled away from her lips, moving down her neck.

“You’re perfect,” Aaron murmured, his voice thick with desire.

She felt the warmth of his chest against her bare skin, and her hands slid to his shoulders, urging him forward as she tilted her head back, her throat exposed to him, to give him better access.

His hand found its way down her body, brushing over her curves, making her shiver under his touch. He was always so deliberate, so careful, but that morning, there was an undeniable urgency in his every movement. His fingers teased her inner thigh before brushing against her wet clit, making her gasp.

"Good girl," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "So wet, just for me."

She let out a soft moan, clutching him as if he were the only thing holding her together. "Aaron..." Her voice was barely a whisper, filled with need, a sound of complete surrender.

“Be patient,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “I want to enjoy this and I’m not going to rush.”

His fingers traced deliberately slow circles over her clit, never pressing enough to give her what she wanted. Her knuckles gripped harder onto the counter, almost turning white. He was torturing her and God if she loved it.

The words made her pulse race, and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to hold on. But when his fingers finally dipped lower, just enough to press gently, teasing the sensitive skin, she couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped her lips.

“Please, Aaron…” she whispered, her voice shaky, the need in her tone undeniable.

He paused, just for a second, and looked down at her with that same commanding intensity. "What do you want, babe?" His thumb circled lazily, not quite where she needed it but enough to send a wave of heat coursing through her body.

"I want you," she said, her voice low, a confession and a plea in one.

Aaron said nothing, he simply watched her. His fingers still teasing and circling, his thumb pressing softly against her. The teasing rhythm was enough to leave her aching, her chest rising and falling with every breath she took.

Finally, his fingers slid deeper, pressing firmly as her back arched in relief, her hands grabbing desperately at his forearms. His thumb moved in a rhythm that made her eyes flutter closed, her lips parting in quiet gasps as the tension in her body finally started to unravel.

The room was filled with the sound of her breathing, the rhythm of his fingers as they worked her closer to the edge. She couldn't hold back the moan that escaped her, her body jerking with the pressure of it all.

“Oh, God.” She moaned breathless.

Aaron’s lips were at her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “That’s it, babe. Let go for me.”

His words sent a shudder through her, the combination of his touch and his voice breaking her completely. She felt herself tensing, the wave of pleasure building, until it crashed through her, sending her head back against the bathroom mirror with a soft thud.

“Aaron” she gasped.

He didn’t stop, his fingers still moving slowly, keeping her right on the edge as she shivered beneath him. He watched her, his eyes dark with hunger, the faintest of smiles on his lips. He waited until the aftershocks of her release passed until she was breathless and trembling before he finally pulled his hand away.

“Good?” he asked softly, his thumb wiping across her damp skin.

Y/N nodded, still catching her breath, her hands weakly resting on his chest as she tried to steady herself. “God, Aaron…”

His smile softened, and he kissed her gently on her forehead, the heat of his earlier teasing replaced with a tenderness that made her heart swell.

Y/N, breathless and still caught in the aftershock of the moment, took a moment to recover. Her eyes fluttered closed as she tried to catch her breath, the heat of Aaron’s touch still lingering on her skin.

But just as she thought the intensity might finally ease, his voice broke through her thoughts—low, commanding, and dripping with that familiar edge of dominance that always sent a thrill through her.

"I'm not done with you."

Y/N’s pulse skipped a beat, her heart racing again as she met his gaze. There was a fire in his eyes, an unmistakable hunger that made her shiver with anticipation.

Before she could react, he dropped to his knees, his gaze never leaving hers as he slowly and deliberately ran his hands up the inside of her thighs, making her skin burn with his touch. His fingers grazed just lightly over her, teasing and barely there, but enough to make her body ache for more.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she looked down at him, a mix of shock and desire coursing through her. "Aaron..." she started, her voice shaky with the rush of emotions flooding her. She tried to steady herself, but her legs felt weak, trembling from the intense sensations still coursing through her.

"Shh," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes, dark with desire, flicked up to hers before he leaned in closer, pressing soft, lingering kisses to the inside of her thighs.

The sensation of his mouth against her was electrifying, the warmth of his breath on her sensitive skin making her pulse quicken.

He kissed her slowly at first, savoring the taste of her, but soon the pressure increased as he licked and sucked with urgency. Her hands flew to his hair, pulling him closer, her body writhing beneath his touch.

“God,” she gasped, her hips bucking instinctively, seeking more.

He obliged, his movements growing more confident, more purposeful, as he expertly drove her higher. Her breath came in short, broken bursts, her body trembling as she teetered on the edge.

“Please,” she begged, her voice desperate.

His lips pressed closer to her, teasing her. She shivered, arching her back instinctively, the desperate need to feel him deeper overwhelming her. His breath tickled her skin, and he took his time, savoring the moment, enjoying every part of her.

"That's my girl," he said softly, his voice a soothing contrast to the growing tension between them. "Let me hear you, baby. Tell me what you want."

Her chest rose and fell with each shaky breath, her hands gripping him tighter. "Please," she pleaded, her voice raw with desire. “I need you.”

He didn’t waste any more time. His lips parted, and he kissed her, his tongue flicking out as he pressed the tip against her. The sensation was enough to make her gasp, her body reacting to the instant heat of his touch.

“That's it,” Aaron murmured as his lips and tongue worked in tandem, his hand holding her steady, guiding her deeper into the sensation. “You taste so fucking good, baby.”

Each flick of his tongue, each long drag, sent waves of pleasure crashing over her, overwhelming her senses. Y/N's hands gripped the counter harder, her fingers twisting into the edge as the world around them seemed to blur.

“God, Aaron,” she gasped, her hips lifting to meet the rhythm of his movements. Y/N could feel the familiar tension building again, the sweet pressure coiling tight inside of her as he kept her on the edge, pulling her closer to the release she desperately needed.

He responded with a low, satisfied hum, the sound vibrating against her skin and making her body shiver. He moved faster, his tongue working on her relentlessly, and just as she felt yourself breaking apart, she called out his name—loud and needy.

“Aaron!” she moaned loudly as her release hit her.

Her body shuttered as waves of pleasure consumed her, her breath coming in short gasps. It was overwhelming, the way he made her feel, the way he could take her to the edge with just the touch of his lips. When she finally came down from high, her body was still trembling.

He pulled away and stood again between her legs, his dark eyes searching hers. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing over her hip as he checked in, his concern for her still present despite his own desire.

She nodded, a shaky smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I’m more than okay,” she breathed out, her chest still heaving.

Aaron’s hands cupped her face, his expression tender as he kissed her gently. His prominent erection, pressed against her, caught her eye as she bit her lower lips at the feeling.  Her hands trailed up his chest, fingers brushing over the firm muscle of his abs, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat under her touch. Her eyes locked with his and a mischievous smile appeared on her lips.

“I want you, Aaron,” she said, her voice thick with need. “Now.”

She reached for the waistband of his pajama pants. Aaron’s gaze never wavered, though his breath hitched at the sensation of her hands on him. He looked down at her, watching with intensity, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “You’re determined, aren’t you?”

“Always,” she replied with a playful smile.

She pulled him closer as he kissed her again—deeply, passionately. His hands slid down her body, his touch slow but deliberate, his palms warm against her skin. She melted under his touch, her heart racing as she felt him pull away for just a moment.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. With her help, he pulled off his T-shirt and pants, leaving him standing before her in nothing but his boxers. She took a moment to admire his body, not defined by a six-pack, but still undeniably strong, lean muscle that spoke of years of training.

She ran her gaze over him, noting the slight curve of his chest and the muscle definition that was evident but not overbearing. His arms were powerful, veins tracing their way down his forearms. Her eyes paused at the scars scattered across his chest—marks from past cases, injuries that had shaped but didn’t define him.

He caught her gaze and immediately tensed, self-conscious as he always was when it came to his scars.

“Don’t,” she said gently, her fingers tracing the edge of a scar that ran diagonally across his skin. She silenced any protests with a soft kiss, pressing her lips against his before he could say anything.

Her hands roamed over his shoulders, down to his arms, and she felt the tension begin to melt from his body as she kissed him deeper. She could feel the steadiness of his heartbeat under her fingertips, the warmth of his skin, and it made her own pulse quicken.

She smiled softly, her hands moving lower, down his back, and over the waistband of his boxers. The way he tensed beneath her touch was both endearing and exhilarating, a reminder that even someone as composed and controlled as Aaron Hotchner wasn’t immune to her.

“Relax,” she teased, her tone light as her fingers hooked into the fabric, slowly guiding it down.

He chuckled low in his throat, shaking his head. “You’ll be the death of me,” he murmured, but the affection in his voice was unmistakable.

“What a way to go.” She shot back, leaning in to capture his lips, leaving no room for argument.

The boxers slipped to the floor, and she took a moment to appreciate him fully, her hands sliding along his sides, her touch firm but tender. Her gaze met his, and the intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine.

“Come here,” she said softly, her voice thick with need as she tugged him closer, holding his head between her hands and crushing his lips into hers. Her legs tightened around his waist, pulling him against her.

He kissed her hungrily, like his life depended on it. His good hand slid down her back to steady her against him. The strength of his touch, the closeness of their body, ignited a fire within her that burned hotter with every moment.

“Aaron,” she gasped as his lips left hers, trailing down her jawline, her neck, the hollow of her throat.

His hands moved to her hips, pulling her closer to the edge of the counter. She arched into him, her body responding instinctively to his touch, her breath catching as he found the sensitive spots that made her tremble.

Slowly, he guided himself into her, his movements deliberate and careful. She gasped at the sensation, her nails digging into his shoulders as he filled her completely, the warmth and closeness leaving her dizzy.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “That’s my good girl.”

Her breath hitched at his words, her body arching into him as her thighs tightened around his waist. His lips found hers again as he began to move, each thrust measured and precise.

The rhythm he set was slow but intense, his focus entirely on her, watching her every reaction as he adjusted his angle to draw soft moans from her lips. His good hand gripped her waist, steadying her as their bodies moved together in perfect harmony.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice commanding yet tender.

She obeyed, her gaze locking onto his, the intensity in his dark eyes stealing what little breath she had left. Her head tilted back as the pleasure began to overwhelm her. Every part of her body was sensitive to him, each touch sending sparks of heat racing through her. His praise was a balm to her racing heart, grounding her as the pleasure mounted.

"Good girl," he whispered again, his voice growling against her skin. “You’re so responsive for me. So perfect.”

His hands moved to her hips, guiding her slightly as he continued, his focus completely on her. Every kiss, every thrust, sent waves of pleasure crashing over her. She could barely breathe, her chest rising and falling in shallow gasps.

“Aaron...” she gasped again, the word coming out in a broken breath.

His lips brushed against her ear, his voice a low, commanding growl. “Not yet, baby.”

Her breath hitched, her body trembling as his words sent another wave of heat spreading through her. He adjusted his angle slightly, his good hand gripping her waist with a firmness that made her toes curl.

“You can hold on for me,” he murmured, his forehead pressing against hers. “I know you can.”

The intensity of his gaze left her breathless, her muscles tightening around him as she tried to obey. He slowed his rhythm, teasing her with shallow thrusts that left her aching for more.

“Aaron,” she whimpered, her hands tangling in his hair as she clung to him. “Please.”

“Patience, sweetheart,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “I want you to feel everything.”

Her body shuddered at his words, the tension inside her building to an almost unbearable level. His lips captured hers in a searing kiss, his movements finally resuming their steady pace.

“Good girl,” he whispered against her lips, his voice filled with quiet reverence. “That’s my good girl.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breaths mingling with his as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. He smiled against her skin, clearly enjoying the effect he had on her.

“God, Aaron,” a cry escaped her lips as her body tightened around him. “Please.”

He groaned softly, his restraint wavering as he watched her, completely undone beneath him. “Alright, baby,” he said, his voice deep and commanding. “Now. Let go for me.”

The words were her breaking point. Her body arched against his, her cry muffled against his shoulder as the tension snapped and pleasure surged through her in powerful waves. Her thighs tightened around him, her entire body trembling as she surrendered to the release he’d kept her waiting for.

“Aaron!” she cried out, her back arching as waves of pleasure ripped through her.

He continued his ministrations, drawing out every last wave of pleasure from her as she trembled under his touch.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his hand stroking her back soothingly as he held her close. “That’s my good girl. So beautiful when you come undone like that.”

Her breath came in shallow gasps as she clung to him, her head resting against his chest as the aftershocks of her release rippled through her. He didn’t stop moving and quickened his pace as the overwhelming warmth of her release drew him closer to his own edge. His jaw clenched, his breathing heavy as he fought to maintain control, savoring every second of her.

“Aaron,” she whispered, her voice soft and pleading as her hands slid down his forearms. Her touch was electrifying as her fingers dug into his skin. “Cum for me,” she murmured, her voice tender and grounding.

The combination of her words and the way her body fit so perfectly around him was his undoing. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, his breath hot against her skin as his body tensed.

“God, Y/N,” he rasped, his voice breaking as he finally let go.

The release hit him hard, a deep groan escaping his lips as his movements stilled, his body shuddering against hers. The tension that had been coiled so tightly in him unraveled all at once, leaving him trembling in her arms.

She held him through it, her fingers stroking his damp hair, her lips pressing soft kisses to his temple. His grip on her hip loosened slightly, his hand sliding up her back in a soothing caress as he tried to catch his breath.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his dark eyes filled with adoration. They stayed like that for a long moment, as their breaths slowed down in the quiet of the bathroom. Slowly, Aaron lifted his head, his dark eyes meeting hers with a softness that made her heart skip a beat.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “So beautiful.”

Her arms slid around him, pulling him closer, wanting to feel his warmth against hers. "I love you," she whispered against his lips, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I love you, too," he said.

He kissed her again, soft and tender, his lips molding to hers as if he wanted to savor the moment. It wasn’t hurried, not this time. They reluctantly pulled apart, resting their foreheads against each other.

She pulled away after a moment, her hand resting on his chest. “How’s your shoulder?” she asked, her voice soft with concern, her fingers grazing the sling that hung from his arm.

Aaron winced slightly, but only for a moment before he offered a reassuring smile. “It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt too much.”

She frowned, the worry in her eyes betraying her concern. “You’re lying,” she teased.

He chuckled, brushing a lock of hair from her face as he leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Maybe just a little. But it’s worth it.”

She shook her head, her fingers gently massaging his uninjured shoulder. “You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

“Guilty as charged.”

She leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips before sliding off the counter, her feet touching the cool tile floor, and pulled on her underwear and his t-shirt. He couldn’t help but watch, his eyes darkening for a moment before he turned away with a soft chuckle as he wore his boxers with a little effort.

“I’ll make us breakfast,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice as she started toward the door.

He followed her down the stairs into the kitchen, his arm lightly draped around her waist as they made their way to the fridge. He reached for the eggs and bacon, pulling out what they’d need for a simple breakfast. She grabbed the orange juice, the sunlight filtering through the windows, casting a soft, warm glow over the room.

As she cooked, the kitchen was filled with the sounds of sizzling bacon and the faint hum of the coffee maker working its magic. The two of them settled into a comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s presence.

When the breakfast was ready, Y/N set a plate down in front of him, along with a glass of orange juice. She made sure to set everything up. “Here,” she said, her voice soft.

Aaron’s smile softened as he took the plate from her. “Thanks,” he said softly, his eyes focused on the eggs on the plate. “And I’m sorry for being so stubborn.”

Y/N turned to him, surprised. She hadn’t expected him to apologize. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice gentle as she set the table.

“I should’ve asked you for help sooner,” he said, his words a little heavier than he intended. “But I just…I don’t like feeling like a burden.”

She stepped closer, her eyes searching for his face with care. “Aaron,” she said, her voice soft but unwavering, “you’re never a burden to me.” She gently cupped his cheek

He closed his eyes at her touch, leaning into her hand for a moment. “I know,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He opened his eyes, meeting hers. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“I’m a big girl, I can handle pressure.” She gave him a soft smile, the corners of her lips lifting. “You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulder, honey,” she said, her voice warm, full of affection.

He nodded slightly, a bit skeptical but accepting the truth in her words. He knew that his pride might sometimes get in the way. He had always been someone who believed in handling things on his own, not burdening others with his troubles. But in the end, it had been the very thing that had permanently divided him and Haley.

She had needed him to open up, but instead, he had kept her at a distance, retreating into himself. He hadn’t known how to let her in, how to let go of the constant need to be the strong, self-sufficient one. He had believed that if he could just do it all by himself everything would work out. But in the process, he’d unknowingly pushed her away.

Aaron’s gaze lingered on Y/N, sitting across from him, a quiet smile playing at her lips as she sipped her coffee. He realized how different things were with her. She understood the job, being a team leader herself, she had lived through the same struggles he had.

She had her own pride and stubbornness to deal with, but with Hotch, there was also the willingness to share the burden, to completely trust in each other. Y/N knew what it was like to be always the strongest one in front of the worst situations. She was everything he had ever needed, even if he hadn’t realized it at first. And unlike his past mistakes, he wasn’t going to shut her out.

“Hey,” her voice broke through his thoughts, warm and familiar.

He looked up to her, a soft smile on her face. “Yeah?”

“You zoned out. Everything okay?”

Aaron nodded, his lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah, just… thinking.”

“About what?” she asked, her hand reaching for his across the counter.

He looked down at their hands for a moment, then met her eyes. “About how lucky I am,” he said quietly. “I love you, Y/N.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. She smiled widely, taken aback by his sudden confession. “I love you too.”

The rest of breakfast passed easily, the conversation light and teasing. As they ate, Aaron seemed to relax, the pain in his shoulder not entirely forgotten but manageable. He allowed himself to enjoy the moment.

After a while, they finished their breakfast, and Y/N stood to clear the dishes, moving around the kitchen effortlessly. Aaron watched her for a moment, he couldn’t fully explain how much she meant to him.

He got up slowly, his hand instinctively reaching for his injured shoulder. "I’ll help with the dishes," he said.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. "No, you sit down and let me handle it."

Aaron chuckled softly, though there was a slight glint of defiance in his eyes. "You know I don’t like just sitting by and watching."

She crossed her arms, tapping her foot in a mock expression of annoyance. "Well, today you will.”

Aaron smiled and gave up as the exhaustion from the earlier excitement finally began to settle in. He leaned against the counter, content to simply watch her, allowing himself to drift back into the easy rhythm of their morning. There was no rush, no need to hurry. For the first time in a while, everything felt right.

Tag: @sweetbearcolorgarden

[prettybouquets]

𝓘gnited⊹₊⋆｡°✩

gn!reader x vander

request; heyyy I saw ur requests were open! I was wondering if you could do enemies to friends to lovers with vander x Reader some time after the revolution happy ending pleasee😝💗💗

word count; 1.4k

cw; nothing

a/n; im lwk not sure if i like this since ive never written for vander before so give me tips if needed!! <3

The Last Drop was alive with its usual hum of activity. The murmur of conversation, the occasional clink of glasses, and the low thrum of music created an atmosphere that was both lively and strangely intimate. You sat at your usual spot near the corner, nursing a drink as your eyes followed Vander’s every move behind the bar.

He worked with a practiced ease, his broad shoulders flexing as he reached for bottles and wiped down the counter. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing forearms corded with muscle that moved in a hypnotic rhythm. Every now and then, a patron would call for his attention, and he’d flash them a gruff smile, his voice carrying over the din with a warmth that contrasted his rough exterior.

You weren’t sure when it started—this fascination with the man who had once been your enemy. During the revolution, you had been on opposing sides, clashing in ideals and, on more than one occasion, with fists. But time had a way of dulling old grudges, and now here you were, sharing the same space, the same air, watching him with a mix of curiosity and something deeper.

“You keep staring like that, people might think you’re planning something,” came a voice beside you.

Startled, you turned to find Vander standing there, a smirk tugging at his lips. He placed a freshly poured drink in front of you, his hand lingering just long enough for you to notice the faint scars along his knuckles.

“Just admiring your craftsmanship,” you said, attempting to sound casual.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Craftsmanship, huh? Didn’t think pouring drinks was much of an art.”

“You make it look like one,” you replied, your tone light but sincere.

For a moment, his expression softened, and the tension that always seemed to linger between you eased. But it didn’t last long. Vander leaned closer, his voice dropping low enough that only you could hear.

“Careful, or I might think you’re trying to butter me up.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, but you refused to let him see you flustered. “And what if I am?” you shot back, meeting his gaze head-on.

His eyes searched yours, the playful glint in them fading into something more intense. The noise of the bar seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you locked in a silent standoff. You could feel the tension crackling in the air between you, unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings hanging in the balance.

“I’ll be back,” Vander said finally, pulling away and returning to the bar.

You watched him go, your heart pounding in your chest. As he resumed his work, you noticed how his movements seemed a little less steady, as though your exchange had affected him as much as it had you. It was a small victory, but it was enough to make you smile.

The evening wore on, and the crowd began to thin. You stayed, unable to tear yourself away. Vander noticed, of course. He always noticed. When the last patron finally left, and the bar was cloaked in a quiet stillness, he approached you again, this time with a bottle and two glasses.

“Figured you might like something stronger,” he said, pouring a generous measure into each glass.

You accepted the drink, the warmth of his presence as he sat beside you making your pulse quicken. “Didn’t think you’d have time for me,” you teased.

“There’s always time for you,” he replied, his tone serious enough to make your breath catch.

You looked at him, really looked at him. The weight of his responsibilities, the scars of his past, the quiet strength that had drawn you to him in the first place—it was all there, written in the lines of his face and the set of his shoulders. And yet, beneath it all, there was a gentleness that he reserved for only a select few. For you.

“I never thought we’d end up here,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Neither did I,” Vander said, his gaze fixed on you. “But I’m glad we did.”

The air between you felt charged again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a quiet, simmering anticipation that made your heart race. Slowly, cautiously, Vander reached out, his hand covering yours where it rested on the table. His touch was warm, grounding, and it sent a thrill through you.

“I know we’ve both got our demons,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But I’d like to see where this goes. If you’re willing.”

You smiled, your fingers curling around his. “I think I’d like that.”

He leaned in then, his movements deliberate, giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t. When his lips met yours, it was soft at first, almost tentative, as though he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. But as the kiss deepened, the tension that had been building between you for so long finally found its release.

When you pulled back, breathless and a little dazed, Vander rested his forehead against yours, a rare, genuine smile lighting up his face.

“Guess I should start pouring you drinks more often,” he said, his tone teasing but warm.

You laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet bar. “As long as I get to watch you do it.”

© prettybouquets 2024. all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, or repost any work as your own.

[hokusu]

#DabiHawks Sleepy holiday Hawks

Hawks doesn't take days off, of course not. But that doesn't mean the bird inside of him doesn't yearn to hibernate in the winters, when his limbs grow heavier and the weather turns colder.

Especially nearing the sleepy days of year end, when the world seems to hum in a slow post-Christmas haze and pre-New Year festivities. The streets are quiet and low with energy, like everyone is taking it easy.   

And Hawks would agree as he makes his rounds of patrol, a bundle of red wrapped around his neck and his face buried in the soft of its wool. If he's not careful, he'll doze off in midair. 

So maybe, when the snow begins to fall and the last hour of his patrol rolls around, he'll start heading home early. Shoot off a few feathers to fly through the city and complete his patrol for him instead.

He knows if anything really happened, he'd fly there in no time, but for now... just this once... he's going to cheat a little.

When he lands on the floorboards of his balcony and slides open the doors to a warm house by no other than his very own heater, he doesn't feel bad at all.

Not when a sleepy body lazes against his couch like he was made for it, a pile of pillows propped against his back and a throw blanket thrown askew. That thought turns something warm inside of him whenever he thinks about just months ago, no one ever used that couch. Nothing more than a piece of furniture growing cold. But now... the eyes from the couch follows his movements and murmurs in amusement, "Aren't you home a little early?"

Hawks puffs his cheeks as he shuts the door and shakes the chill from his wings, pulling the scarf off his neck. "I don't know what you mean."

"My, am I a bad influence on you?"

Hawks exhales a laugh. "What, coming home early is where you draw the line? Too much for villains?"

"You're a workaholic," Dabi replies flatly.

"And I'm sleepy," Hawks replies back matter-of-fact. Like that has ever stopped him before. "Birds are made to hibernate." 

Dabi's laughter rumbles low in the back of his throat as Hawks peels his fluffy coat off his shoulders and shuffles himself forward, until the cold of his wings brush up against Dabi and Dabi stops lazing on the couch to make room for him. But Dabi tuts at him. "Shower first. You won't get up, once you sit."

Hawks isn't the only one who thinks about the changes in the last few months. Dabi does too, and thinks about how strange it is that he knows all of Hawks' tendencies now. That the little Keigo in him that grew up becoming a germaphobe means that sometimes, he's just that—a delicate little bird. Dabi remembers the first time he trekked into Hawks' home, boots and all and Hawks had stared at the beige of his carpet the entire time, discomfort rippling through his wings as his feathers picked up every speck of dirt that had come inside.

Dabi had never done it again. And he knows better now, that Hawks hates dirtying up his home. That includes, when his golden eyes shine with the desire to be comfortable, but knows he's too dirty for his couch after an entire day of heroics.

Hawks sighs as his wings droop just by the edges, just centimeters from climbing on to the couch. "I know," he breathes. "But you look so comfortable."

Dabi hums, running a heated hand through his wings as he makes to get up from his comfortable pile. Only Hawks can ever get a lazing Dabi to get up. "Come on birdie, we can laze around after."

Dabi drags him off to the showers and Hawks, doesn't need to say it, but he's grateful all the same.

And when they're both freshly cleaned from as hot as the water will go, steam emitting from the bathroom and fogging all the mirrors, Dabi will drag an even sleepier Hawks back onto the couch as promised, the lazy night just before the new years settling in.

"You gonna nap until the new year?" Dabi teases, as Hawks settles against his arms, the faux fur of their throw wrapped snugly around him and the pillows piled next to him.

"If only," Hawks mumbles with a yawn.

He'll get up again for tomorrow, he'll complete his heroics through the eve and new years. He knows that, but for now... he'll take a sleepy night in like the rest of the city.

[itsnotamatterofif]

YEEEEEESSS I live for steamer/freight family. Slick is very definitely the rogue sibling that no one can control but they don’t half worry about. Have a little scene between her and Rusty

✨Want a stex mini fic? Send me an ask!✨

Once again, Slick is in a ditch.

It's not even a nice ditch. Usually when she's pissed off an engine enough to be thrown off the train she's left at a station or a delivery yard, but being ditched in the middle of track following a scam on a particularly cantankerous engine isn't exactly uncommon. At least this ditch is pretty close to a town, so she should be able to hang on the back of a passerby without a problem, but it's just annoying; she was this close to taking a good bet from him about a race she'd rigged for next week, and if he hadn't recognised her at the last minute she would have been a hundred and fifty pounds richer.

With a huff, she squats near the tracks, scuffing  at the rocks and pebbles with the brake plate of her boots. She'd probably be home in the next ten minutes if that fucker hadn't gotten all grumpy about it, but now she's stuck here, reading the graffiti that lines the walls of the bridge up ahead. If she was a bit more daring, she could probably attempt to make it home herself, but someone finding her passed out on the tracks is infinitely more embarrassing than actually having to ask for a lift, so in her spot she stays. Thankfully it's a nice day, and it's not raining as long as that grey looking cloud stays where it is, so the waiting game it is.

Within five minutes she's bored of looking at clouds, and within ten she's bored of kicking her feet in the rocks. It's not like this is a quiet line, quite the opposite usually, but apparently Sunday timetables have decided to kick her ass today. There's a faint sound in the distance, a reverberation along the rails, but it seems far off as Slick sits uncomfortably on the pebbled floor with a grumble.

The rumble gets louder, the rails clattering slightly, and Slick perks up. Sounds like whoever it is is going fast, but that shouldn't be a problem, she's had plenty of years experience of jumping at the right moment to cling onto the back of whoever is going past. Hopefully it's a diesel, hopefully it's not Greaseball-

As the engine gets closer, the sound changes. Rhythmic in its movement with distinct push and pull, Slick feels whatever hope she had drain away as she looks out to the eastwards track and sees a plume of steam shooting up over the treetops. It's ain't Momma, that's for sure - she hardly ever leaves the yard these days - and as the distinct scream of a whistle echoes across the tracks, she rolls her eyes and kicks the dirt again.

Of course, it had to be Rusty.

There's no time to hide as he turns the corner onto the straight that she's stuck on, hurtling along the track whilst Slick prepares for the inevitable one hundred questions he's going to ask. Looks to be just him today, no coaches or trucks trailing behind him; it's almost strange to see him without Porter at the very least, as if he looks top heavy or slightly unbalanced with just his own bunker, but she's sure there's a good reason. Rusty is one of those people who has an excuse for everything no matter the situation, which pisses her off to no end.

By the time Rusty spots her and slams on the breaks, it's too late for him to stop in front of her, stuck on the side of the tracks as he hurtles past with a screech. The heavy sound of pistons and blazing fire kicks up as his wheels slowly spin backwards, almost painfully slow as he rolls back to her; it's kind of funny in a way, watching him try and reverse when she knows just how much effort it takes for him to get started once he's stopped, but it doesn't seem to bring him down. As she folds her arms and rolls her eyes impatiently, Rusty finally stops within reach, apologetic smile etched on his face as he reaches to let out a billow of steam awkwardly.

"Didn't expect to see you here, Slick," he says, voice laced with surprise, "I thought you were on shift with that visiting diesel, what happened?"

"Pissed him off," she answers brashly, huffing out an annoyed breath, "apparently he couldn't stand the sight of me for ten more minutes just to get me home, so the asshole uncoupled."

It's not the whole truth, and she knows Rusty knows that from the slight raise of his eyebrow as he purses his lips in thought.

"Well, you ought to hop on then." He straightens his back, scooting forwards slightly so that she can hitch up. "I'm heading back to the yard, if you can cope with being stuck to a steamer, that is."

He sticks his tongue out in jest as Slick rolls her eyes and clambers back onto the tracks.

"Good fuckin' thing it's only for ten minutes then," she argues, rolling her eyes again - riding with Rusty is never ideal, she hates the stink of coal smoke and ash that settles into her armour when she gets stuck on a train with him, but right now it's either hitch up or sit down. It barely takes a minute before the sound of Rusty's pistons pumping echos along the track again, and, albeit very slowly, they're away.

"So, what did you do this time?" Rusty asks after a minute or so of awkward silence, "insurance fraud? Revenge hit-?"

"None of your fuckin' business," Slick snaps back, and annoyingly she knows the exact expression of mock surprise that Rusty is wearing without seeing his face.

"Just thought I'd ask in case-"

"Well don't," she hisses, and crouches to hide behind him slightly as a bigger train speeds past, "what are you doing out on your own?"

"Orange Flash broke down at Leamington, so Control asked me to take the repair truck over since I didn't have anything scheduled for today," Rusty explains easily, no hint of any frustration found which frustrates Slick in turn, "dropped them off about an hour ago, and then they can ride home with Flash once they're fixed - good thing I took the job, how else were you planning to get home?"

He says that like there was a chance he wasn't going to accept the run, which makes Slick frown a bit in thought; it's no secret to anyone that Rusty has been getting less and less jobs following some new financial directive putting more focus on the newer diesels, and his frame is looking distinctly worse for wear in the gloomy afternoon sun, whole flakes of rust visible from where she can see. It must be painful, judging from how much Momma complains about it when she hasn't been cleaned for weeks, but if it is, Rusty doesn't say anything.

"Dunno," she answers as Rusty draws to another stop at a set of signals up ahead, "I'm pretty good at hitchhiking-"

Rusty hums, equal parts concerned and unimpressed. "That's dangerous, Slick, what if you missed and got hurt or the engine threw you off?"

"Hasn't happened yet," she grumbles - she’s a really on a short fuse from being dumped, if Rusty wants tell her how to live her life he can shove it, "I can handle myself - I don't need a second Momma, Rusty, I knew I'd get a godamn lecture from you-"

The lights flick green, and Rusty shrinks away, shoulders hunching slightly as his pistons begin to push; if they were face to face he probably would be walking away by now, Rusty’s not one for blow-up arguments with her.

“I know,” he mutters, barely audible over the hissing of his engine, “I just worry about you sometimes.”

She clicks her tongue, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “Then don’t.”

“Trust me, I try not to,” he argues back, and there’s a sudden bit of fire in his voice that she wasn’t expecting - Rusty stopped arguing with her a long time ago, having learned any argument with her was a lost cause, but apparently picked today to break the habit, “I’d rather not think about you mangled somewhere because you’ve pissed off the wrong engines, but at least, I dunno’, let someone know if you’re planning on pissing someone off on the rails? Even if it’s not me, either Lumber or Porter, then if something goes wrong they can get help for you-“

“Control would have sent someone out eventually, Rusty, chill-“

“What if they didn’t, though, or you were hurt?” There’s a distinct clack of his jaw snapping shut, steel hitting steel as he squares his jaw in frustration. “I ain’t trying to be Momma, she’d tell you to stop fuckin’ about completely, I just think if the folks you target can dump you in the middle of the tracks without a concern, what else would they be happy to do once they find what you’ve planned for them?”

She doesn’t have an answer for that.

The yard station looms before them as Rusty pulls into one of the side sheds, the one nearest the freight yard. Blessedly, it’s empty, and as Rusty slows to a stop, Slick can’t help but jump off the tracks as soon as possible.

Reaching round to a small pouch on her external tank, she pulls out a few notes, shifting through them as Rusty sorts himself out and chills his firebox back out for resting.

“Oi, steamer,” she calls - why is she nervous about this? - as Rusty’s head snaps around, “next time you’re in Birmingham, take this to a maintenance engineer called Amal, he’ll get you cleaned up.”

Rusty’s eyes widen for a second as he wheels over, looking between her and the pound notes. “I’m- I’m fine, Control said they’re getting someone in next quarter-“

“And you know as well as I do that that skimping bastard isn’t maintaining you and Momma anymore,” Slick interrupts, grabbing his hand to stuff the notes into whether he wants them or not, “you’re on a freight run on Saturday, right? Ask him then, before your creaking gets bad enough to wake the whole yard up.”

As Rusty’s hand closes around the notes reluctantly, she spins on her break plate. Rusty’s a sentimental bastard at the best of times, if he starts trying to give the cash back or thanking her for it she might just lose it again. Behind her, she can already hear Rusty stammering, and can’t help but laugh slightly at his predictability.

Maybe she’ll just let him know next time she tries something big.

[nylwnder]

run your mouth

a/n: back with the second last drop!!! of course i had to include my boy bunts in this series <333 who am i without my twin??!! currently working on the last fic and can’t wait to get that out to you guys :) loves u and enjoy bbs!

pairing: michael bunting x fem!reader 

warnings: SMUT, bratty!reader, brat taming, mocking, fingering, oral (f! recieving), p in v, unprotected sex, technically exhibitionism, bunts doesn’t play for the leafs anymore (but still hanging out with the boys), swearing

word count: 2.7k

taglist: @shoot-the-puck , @lukepangburn118 , @hawkeyefierce , @boqvistsbabe , @sweetiet , @p1tstop , @occasionallyaurora , @laurenairay , @fallinallincurls , @andrea9 , @dylpickle4791 , @biznastysloneshift12

series masterpost 

the lights were bright and colourful, decorations hung around the walls and tables, cocktails flooding the room, snacks upon snacks with laughter and love being shared with each other. 

it was new years eve, therefore unsurprisingly celebrated at the marner residence. you were mingling with the rest of your friends on the arm of your boyfriend and known “greasy rat” michael bunting. it was the first christmas with bunts not playing for toronto anymore, however connections and bonds grow deeper than contracts and trades. so regardless of where you might be living right now, toronto is your home. and you were grateful to be spending your time with the group of people you feel most connected to. 

later on in the night, some of the boys wanted to challenge each other in a game of pool. the rest of the wives and girlfriends stayed chatting in the living room with some glasses of wine. you took your cup, however you felt a hunch that you could have a bit more fun as a spectator for the game.

michael has had lingering touches on you all night, and you were starting to get more needy the more he spoke to the others. so what was a way to motivate him into fulfilling a need before the night ends? perhaps, you felt like being a little bratty today!

you sit on a couch in the game room, watching auston make sure the table is set up accordingly. the boys began barking at each other, teasing the other about who will win. they decided to play in pairs at first. auston with mo and bunts with willy. mitch was going to play, but he was chirped out of the group before he could even grab a stick. you giggled. 

the first round wasn’t too bad. michael was carried by william’s strategic movements and consistent straight shots. you chose to make sure you praised willy as much as you could. you could notice the way bunts would hold his cue tighter, it only ignited you more. 

however, auston and morgan put up a good fight, and got a two for one shot to win the game. that's when they decided to break off into individuals, mo and willy first—willy winning—and now aus and bunts, meaning you were ready to continue running your mouth.

music buzzed in the background from the other room. bunts is lining up his shot. you crossed your legs together, watching with a mischievous grin, sipping your drink. 

“alright boys, watch and learn. ‘bout to end this game right now.” bunts says.

you snicker, “please! you’ve been saying that for the last ten minutes. just take the shot already, you self-proclaimed pool shark.” the boys giggle.  

bunts pauses to glare at you “you wanna hop on this table and try your luck, or are you just here to run your mouth?”

you smile, already finding yourself under his skin. “why would i ruin this perfectly mid game with my superior skills? this tragedy is way more fun.”

“she’s got a point, man. you better not scratch this twice in a row. again.” mo says, finding himself betting on the underdog whilst reminding him of his faults. it made you giggle. 

bunts straightens up in defense, “okay, first of all, those scratches were tactical. second—mo, didn’t you just miss a straight shot last game? sit down.”

willy laughs, “yeah, but at least he didn’t call it ‘tactical.’ you’re just making stuff up now.”

“‘tactical scratches’ is that what we’re calling choking these days?” you chirp again. 

bunts smiles, “keep chirping, babe. the more you talk, the more i’m convinced you’ve never touched a cue in your life.”

“oh, i’ve touched a cue. i just don’t need to overcompensate for my lack of skills like some people.”

auston laughs,“she’s ruthless, man. you sure she’s on your side?”

bunts grabs the chalk, rubbing it dramatically on his cue “oh, she’s on my side. she just likes to act tough in public so she doesn’t seem too obsessed with me.”

you scoff. “obsessed? honey, i’m only here because the good snacks ran out, and watching you lose is free entertainment.” you smirk, sitting back and taking another sip of your drink. 

“okay take the shot already kid.” mo says. 

bunts points at the men in front of him, “you better hope i don’t win this game. i’ll make sure you guys never live it down.”

from the angle in which you sit, you have a deep feeling the ball will bounce too much off of the edge and miss the pocket completely. 

bunts takes the shot. the ball indeed bouncing off the cushion and narrowly missing the pocket. you and the guys erupt into laughter.

“yeah, pool shark eh? more like a goldfish in a kiddie pool.” auston says, grinning with his head steady on the tip of his stick. 

bunts straightens again, “big words from the guy who didn’t wanna play against me when we came to town.”

“i wasn't feeling well dumbass” auston remarks, poking your boyfriend with his stick. 

“sure…” bunts says, smiling. 

willy smirks, “don’t drag us into your weak game, bunts. you’re doing just fine embarrassing yourself without our help.” you grin at his words. 

“you make a great point, willy! you should listen to him michael, he did carry you in the pairs game anyways.”

michael grins, “alright, alright, keep it coming. just remember, i only let you guys talk this much ‘cause i’m nice. otherwise, you’d be crying right now.”

the boys scoff and you couldn’t help but do the same. “crying? maybe from laughing too hard.” you say, moving your empty glass to the side. your boyfriend shoots you another playful glare. 

it was now auston’s shot. he began to line himself in an angle that felt the most comfortable for him as well as guaranteeing enough of a push from the cue-ball to sink. and so he does. the sweet sound of a clink and the swish of the ball falling in the pocket, also known as the sweet sound of victory. 

morgan pats bunts on the back. “don’t worry, bud. not everyone is cut out for this.” the rest of the boys giggle again and bunts smiles as well. its all playful banter at the end of the day. however not everyone gets let off so easy. 

once the girls from the other room call everyone to get ready to watch the ball drop, you get pulled by your waist into michael’s frame. the door closing behind the boys. 

“may i help you?” you inquire with sass whilst raising an eyebrow. 

his hands snake tightly around your waist, pulling you snug against him. the tips of his fingers falling low and laying at the top of your ass. 

“why do you always need to give me a hard time?” 

“why are you so easy to chirp?” 

he gives out a low chuckle, amused by the way you always manage to keep up. 

“you gon let me go?” you ask, however not eager to escape his embrace. 

“not till you apologize”

you hum, “you're asking for a lot from me, big boy.” he grins again, and you can't help but reciprocate it. he grabs you tight and lifts you onto the pool table, spreading your legs with his own. your stomach flutters in anticipation. 

“just because you-” you were cut off by michael’s lips against yours. god, you’ve been waiting for him to shut you up. his lips move naturally with yours, nipping at your lip to allot space for his tongue to slip in. 

the more the two of you engaged in this silent conversation, the more your body felt like it was on fire. your dress suddenly too warm and too tight, heat creeping up your chest and neck as you licked into bunts mouth, tasting the alcohol on his lips. whines began to escape you whenever you would break for air. nails denting his skin, an urge for him to not continue the teasing foreplay. your dress straps have fallen down your arms, dress scrunched up, exposing your thighs. 

with one last kiss, michael fell to his knees. your hands immediately go to his hair, combing your fingers through his strands and tugging the more you feel his breath hover over your core. he looks up at you, his stupidly soft eyes asking for permission. his nose so close to your clit, breathing in your scent, his lips kissing the wet patch on your cotton fabric. “got you wet already huh?”

“god, please” you beg, feet on his shoulders, his fingers rolling down your panty, shoving it in his back pocket to keep it safe and sound. michael’s hands grab the skin on your thighs to hold them far apart, his head slotting in between. 

bunts began agonisingly slow, tongue licking stripes up and down your folds, then licking circles around your needy clit. you were whining, pleading for him to hurry up but you figured you deserve the punishment. “you taste so good baby, all wet for me” you give out a huff. 

“want more?” he asks, “is my baby needy?” the tone is playfully mocking you, which makes you smile internally. however, externally, his nose bumped into your hole so perfectly your face scrunched and your moan was your only answer. 

he took that as his answer, two of his fingers slipping into your entrance and instantly feeling your pussy constrict around him—that was enough of a confirmation. his mouth sucks and nibbles on your cunt, releasing it when a pop before latching himself around it again. his digits moving in and out at such a speed, it was all, so much and yet just what you wanted. 

your heels dug into michael’s shoulders and back, you grabbed a striped ball that was near you on the table, your fingers tight around it. really just looking for anything to ground you, the wash of euphoria beginning to overcome you. he gave you praises but they were lost in the air, your ears only hearing the noise coming out of your arched body. 

you soaked his fingers, before he pulled them out to replace it with his tongue probing your entrance. he licked you clean and made sure to suck on your clit just a bit more gifting him with a whimper and a kick from your foot, the fresh sting of overstimulation evident. 

bunts brings his fingers to your mouth, he taps your chin bringing your attention back to him, making you open your mouth. your tongue swirled around them, making sure you suck them clean. the taste of yourself giving you a buzz. bunts smiles, pulling you closer to the edge, you can feel his bulge against your thigh. you palm it, hand rubbing over the fabric of his pants. he lets out a low moan, grabbing your waist and enveloping his lips with yours. 

“is this what you wanted all along? to fuck you here on this table? in mitchy’s place? everyone outside that door, capable of coming in at any moment?” there’s a dark shine in his eyes that matches the glossy layer of your juices smeared all over his lips and chin, the small droplets evident in his small scruff.

“maybe” you say, your fingers tugging at his pants, looking at him with a pair of doe eyes. 

he grins again, unbuttoning his pants and taking his cock out of its constraint. he wraps your leg around him, your hand reaching to give him a few strokes, pre-cum around his pretty pink tip. he aligns himself to your entrance, and your hand reaches for his forearm while he slips in. “shit” you utter, head lolling back. 

he gave a few long thrusts, indulging in the feeling of your warm wet walls wrapped around him. bunts looked down, seeing the way his cock is covered in your slick every time he slips out of you, you felt him twitch inside you. 

“i nearly ruined them,” he grumbles, sucking a bruise into the soft skin of your neck. your foggy brain remembers how this started. 

he smirks—its bait, hes trying to reel a remark out of you but hes also making it too hard to do so. not with the way his cock is balls deep inside you on a pool table in his teammates house, a room yet still clearly decorated by his wife. you still manage to scoff, so he decides to mock you some more. “what, too fucked to run your mouth anymore? yeah kind of like you better this way, don't you think?” 

you would have continued with your bratty little comments, but, right now, you’re too focused on the feeling of his rough hand pressing circles on your enlarged clit. too focused on the wet of his mouth spreading over your breasts, his teeth running over you ever so gently, forcing you to whine back.

“i’m gonna ruin you though, that's for sure” he says with a smile as you fall back to lay down on the pool table, pushing your hips forwards with a hearty thrust. then another. and then another. 

you shove your hand in your mouth, not necessarily eager to have someone eavesdropping or walking in to discover the two of you. bunts tries to pull your wrist away from your face, “no baby, you were making so much noise earlier, don’t shut up now” 

your entire body rocked against the table as he bucked up into you, “bunts,” you uttered breathlessly as he stretched you out at a rhythm that was both so slow yet so hard at the same time.  

“oh my god, you feel so- so-…” you swung your hand above you to grip on the edge of the table, your head right beside the cue-ball, your fingers accidently pushing a stick and hearing it clink against the hardwood floor, “fuck!” 

“i feel so what, huh?” he teased your blissed-out babble, “so hard? so big? so good?” his thrusts began to grow more selfish, the lewd clapping of hastily exposed skin echoing and seemingly overpowering all the other noises that vibrated throughout the house, “you like how this cock fills you up to the fucking brim, do you?”

you bite down on your lip, mumbly noises escaping you as a response. your body is on fire, the pressure in your lower belly reaching a peak. one of his hands clutches to your hips to keep you still while he fucks the light of you with unbridled passion. you can feel every inch of your body vibrating to the sound the two of you make. your breath comes out forced in short breaths. “i’m gonna— fuck!” you manage out. you’re squeezing him so hard. 

you finally hear loud noise coming from deeper inside the house, thankful the group is preoccupied. its new years, you reminded yourself, your head still a foggy blur. you hear counting, but not until it's muffled by the pounding of your heart. 

bunts shares that last thrust that tips you over the edge. your walls flutter and contract around his cock as you reach the top of your climax. your eyes roll back. michael follows right after, spilling all of himself inside you while you ride that tide that makes your vision blur and ears ring. thats when the two of you hear cheering and laughter radiate throughout the house. your body feels electric. michael relishing in the bliss. 

your hand seeks his, and he wraps it around yours immediately, tightly. your breathing becomes steady and you begin to sit up, bringing your boyfriend closer into your frame, a more than necessary hug. he gives a low giggle into your shoulder, happy to give you a cuddle. almost yearning for your soft side after your earlier scolding. 

“happy new year!” you exclaim, however your voice more quiet and raspy than you anticipated. michael’s other hand moves to your cheek, a smile plastered on the man’s face. 

“happy new year, babe!” he exclaims, equally as soft and intimate. you smile back, your familiar afterglow shining all over you. bunts isn't anything but grateful at this moment. to have you to start the new year, nevertheless the way the two of you entered it. best new years eve hands down, he states to himself. even if he lost both pool games. 

“i hope your first new year’s resolution is to not be such a brat” bunts mentions playfully, quirking his head to the side. 

you chuckle. “but i like the way you tame me” 

michael grins. “there are pros to it. but maybe lay it off around the guys?”

“that's the best part!” you say, smirking. 

“you don't quit, huh?”

“yeah, i love you too” 

[ enjoyed reading? join my taglist! : click here <3 ]

[tracistars]

SUMMER SONG

⸻ ୨ৎ DARYL DIXONXYOUNG!READER ୨ৎ-

reader is like 18-19. very massive age gap just for fair warning due to Daryl legit being in his late 40s-50s. Cigarette burns, rude daryl, gets his nasty fingers in your panties, spitting, dubcon, very extreme kink/fetish, eating you out. ( btw i haven't watched twd since ancient times, so I apologize if I haven't gotten any of this right. I'm currently rewatching it, also don't mind if daryl is ooc this is js a silly diddle. Also not proof read! )

Daryl was a man you were quite fond of. He was always closed off... rude... or just quiet. You guys never really talked unless it was important. His most active times were during the night, usually smoking fresh cigarettes he'd find in some walkers' pants, or overall people, but most times she found him smoking old butted out cigarettes that had been butted out for a good decade or so, loosing all the flavor and buzz to the small little cancer filled sticks.

Weeks had passed, and they were sent out to go look for certain supplies. It wasn't a big thing, so they sent you and daryl out. It was a quiet trip, the occasional flicks of his lighters, grunts were the entirety of the noises made the whole trip to the destination they needed to be... of course nature took its part making the awkward tension between you too not so awkward with the rustling of leaves, twigs snapping, of course the fleshy noises of killing walkers. God you hated walkers.. the scent of decay and fermented blood always burned your nose... you covered your noise as you watched daryl take out the walkers much quicker than you'd ever be able too.

As blood splattered against his bruised knuckles decorating the cigarette burns against his wrists... couldn't help stare. You were quickly pulled out of your questions and head when daryl yelled at you to pay fucking attention, you jumped realizing a walker was alittle to close for comfort.. you tried to reach for your hunting knife but dropped it. Stumbling back feeling the zombie trip over you, panicked trying to push the dead weight off you.. trying your hardest to avoid the foul smelling mouth. With a quick movement of daryl pulling the walker off you watching how he didn't hesitate to stomp in the walkers skull.. you screamed feeling the unnaturally cold foul smelling blood splattered against your face.. chunks of thin rotting skin decorated your hair and forehead. You trembled, stumbling upwards.

" fucking idiot! Watch your goddamn surroundings! you knew there was gonna be walkers... "

He scowled... feeling yourself shiver his thick southern accent loud in your ears... his voice bounced off the forest.. and you stood there.. clenching your fists.. you didn't say anything, you didn't understand why.. nor did you understand why you stayed silent taking his bullshit... but you did... staring at him like a hurt puppy. He shook his head.

" your damn glad I was near you... for fucks sakes... let's get going... "

a few hours had passed eventually you made it to the destination Carol had sent you two. You looked around.. already trying to see if there was anything of value or use. Daryl on the other hand just stood there, watching you pick up things and throw them in your bag.. he'd help you eventually, but he needed a damn cigarette from your idiocy earlier. Flick... flick.. flick.. his lighter finally came to a start, lighting his cigarette, daryl inhaled deeply the burn hitting his throat as he quickly blew the smoke out his nose.. he kept it in his mouth as he began to look around himself. following behind you, he couldn't help but take a glance at you a few times. He couldn't deny you were attractive.. as sick as it was.. you were a damn attractive young lady. The way you'd never noticed, he could see the lining of your off-white lacey underwear over your low rised dirtied flared jeans.

God what was he thinkin? Thinking about a young lady like you in a awful light.. you were damn young and here he was.. a fucking fossil of a man, thirsting and craving a young woman like you... he wasn't even sure if your virginity had been taken, you'd never talk to guys.. you stayed alone most of the time, unless you were with Carol or maggie.. you clung on them.. but whenever you were with a guy - you became.. awkward and weird .. he noticed. As he continued to puff on his cigarette.. the way your thighs rubbed together in those tight jeans, whenever you bent down to pick something up, and how he could see your soft breasts being barely held in the over worn black bra ... in that stupid white tank top carol forced him to give to you... due to your lack of clothing. He shook his head.. a small grunt of a approval escaping his lips. Grabbing your wrists yanking you upwards.. he could see the slight fear in those big exhausted eyes of yours.

" i think that's more than enough supplies.. "

You looked up at him, and he towered you.. you pulled back your wrist slightly.. nodding.

on your way back from this little supply run, you noticed how daryl walked behind you rather than behind or beside you.. whenever you looked behind you to see if he was still behind you or not, but you noticed how he only seemed to be staring at your ass rather than you. You shifted uncomfortably... not because you felt unsafe you just felt... weird he didn't ask? Cause you were totally interested in him, but you've always thought you were way to young for him, scared ya might make him weirded out with you. You cursed internally, you've always had a thing for older guys, and daryl was fucking perfect in your old guy department.

The way his muscles would be visible underneath that black long-sleeve of his, his usual greasy hair.. his whole entire dirtied look was so attractive to her.. even his scent made her crazy. He reeked of cigarettes that foul scent of decay and fermented blood from walkers, and occasionally, when she was lucky, he'd smell like Irish spring... she guessed that's when he actually took a damn bath.

You must've been standing around for a while. It wasn't until Daryl shoved your shoulder slightly pinning you slightly against the bark of a tree... you blinked, your brows furrowing in confusion.

" Pay attention, kid... what did I tell you? "

You blinked at him like he was an idiot before you nodded.' You're right.. you're right, sorry. ' You spoke, shaking your head before moving forward again... Jesus... she needed to get it through her hair she shouldn't be feeling all these things, thinking all these things about him! Shit he was twice her age. She cursed herself out internally as she now followed daryl, walking slow behind him. There was that awkward silence again... the only noises being crickets and nocturnal animals moving around hunting for prey.. or prey trying to survive. Occasionally, there would be a walker or two. She always stood back.. watching how daryl took it out quickly, he didn't even bother to use his crossbow... just using her own hunting knife skillfully, getting them down to their knees.. before smashing there heads in.. which was much quicker than using his own cross bow. The way his muscles clenched, the way his hands would hold on tightly against her very poorly treated end, and how he managed to stab them no problem despite the blade on her knife being dull and used, how he kept the almost same expression with killing each zombie as if he grew numb and cold to the blood.. the smell the overall decay. You felt yourself bite your lip almost... your crooked teeth grazing over your bottom chapped lip, your fists squeezing as he glanced up at you, his face bloodied from zombies he shook his head.

When you had come back, giving all the stuff to Carol, she smiled, hugging you, patting your shoulder before sending you off... of course her and daryl spoke.. walking around the heavily guarded place.. you... well, you returned to where you were sleeping. Luckily, you were able to get your own place to sleep. As you began to rip off your clothes.. the dirtied and bloodied clothes all landing into the pile that had built in your room, you groaned running a hand through your hair now standing in your off white panties which were stained with dried blood from your fingers.. you cursed under your breath as you looked at the sticky dried blood stuck under your nails, rolling your eyes. Your hands now rested on your side. You stood there bare chested, standing over her messy bed.. in the very dimly lit room.

Gosh... you needed his dirty fingers all over you.. you don't care if you sounded sick or not, you wanted them to grab your thighs.. forcing them open, and stuffing his face deep between your thighs... in your cunt. You held back a moan at the thought.. your fingers running and grazing over your stomach. Just as your fingers were at the hem of your panties.. a large hand grabbed your hip.. grabbing your much smaller hand and forcing his fingers under the hem of your panties along with yours, you were about to scream.. but you smelt a freshly burning cigarette... and immediately almost melted into Daryl's touch. His face deep into the nape of your neck.. sniffing and inhaling your sweet scent. His other hand ran up your side, grabbing your breast his fingers catching onto your nipple, pulling and twisting at it.. forcing tiny noises out of you as you grabbed his arm.. feeling the soft hairs against his forearm.

" this all for me? All pretty.. standing here... waiting for me... teasing me all day.. such a alittle idiot you are, youve got such smooth skin... be a damn shame if i ruined it"

His words were like little sweet nothings running through your brain.. you let out a breathy giggle.. you watched him give one last puff to his cigarette. You honestly thought he was joking on the last part... but as he reached up to grab his dying cigarette, he gave you one glance.. a tiny smirk. Tsss... you gasped in pain.. grabbing onto his arm tightly as you tried to pull away from his grasp, right around your nipple.. for such a small little thing.. it was painful. He quickly let the butt of the cigarette fall against the floor.. now looking at his mark.. your tainted skin. Fucking beautiful.

Just as you about to yell at him for being such a jerk, his fingers began to move in a circular motion.. around your clit..you let out a whine as you realized how needy your cunt was for him. Dripping with juices, all from a damn burn... you arched against him. Groans and whines escaping your lips as your thighs trembled.

" such pretty little moans for me... your cunt is fucking Dripping wet.. fucking slut.. getting wet for an old man like me? Shit... you've really hit the bottom of the barrel huh kid? "

He insulted in your ears... keeping your body pinned against him, you were an arching Dripping trembling mess.. all because of his damn presence. Daryl enjoyed that. You were pathetic and he swallowed that up like a goddamn predator eating up it's prey. He ripped his hands away from your Dripping cunt shoving you against the bed not hesitating to rip apart your panties. His jeans were tight... he was hard solid. You landed against your elbows as you watched how he ripped your favorite pair of panties apart.. you could see the growing ache in his pants as he bent down grabbing your thighs immediately burying his face between them.. his tongue lapping against your pussy licking up any juices.. before he actually got to work.. he was starved and hungry as he looked up at you. He wanted your virgin pussy and it showed.

Daryl buried his face in your pussy, tasting all your juices.. your natural musk.. you, you were unshaven and so natural, It made him so fucking hard.. he swore he came in his pants just at the taste... tangy and sweet you were, he licked you up. He needed this virgin pussy. He needed your innocence. Your young body was everything to him. He let out a guttural groan as he licked his lips.. looking at you.. your face flushed.. you were now a whining stupid mess, daryl slurped.. and slurped against your needy pussy relentlessly he didn't care if he was making you cum over and over again.. he enjoyed your moans your taste.. this virgin pussy of yours, he couldn't take it yet. He wanted to enjoy the taste.. before he'd begin filling you up with his awful fucking seed, tainting your body with him truly claiming your body as his own.

As he kept up this relentlessly God awful pace of eating you out you collapsed.. shaking.. and trembling.. as you let out screams... overstimulated.. you yanked on his hair tightly, before squeezing his head tightly in your thighs.. squirting everywhere.. gushing, draining every ounce of cum from your body... it felt like he drained you of everything if that was even possible. Your thighs trembled as he finally pulled his face away. When you thought he was done... he just wasn't your tired out body now looking up at the shaft of his unshaved dick, a natural sweaty salty odor hit your nose as you whined rather pathetically. You were fucked.

AHGGGHHH SO SORRY, ITS SO RUSHED AND SO SHORT but hyperfixating so hard on twd, daryl and negan >_0 might make a part two.. maybe with negan as well BUT AGGHHH!!! I HOPE THIS IS READABLE!!!

[lumiidragon]

Hot take, but I'm excited for the HTTYD live action (caught some of the trailer).

Like, I get that a lot of the fans are gonna nitpick, but I think it'll be really fun and I like the idea of the movie brining in some possible new twists. Catch me in theaters on release day.

[edwardwonghaupepelutivrusky4th]

wah i looove their designs and animation...

[rafesangelita]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ when a movie night with your best friend ends with you and rafe naked underneath your blankets..

warnings: bsf!rafe, fluff, cuddling, sexual tension, reader is a little bold in this one, heavy petting, tit play, dirty talk, degradation, oral (m. & f. receiving), face sitting, face fucking, hair pulling, choking, biting, finger sucking, size kink, unprotected sex, rough sex, multiple orgasms

a/n: movie night dates are my fav <3

wc: 2.3k

“they have the whole twilight series on here..” rafe looked away from your tv, and at your bare legs as you stepped out of your bathroom, a pair of sleep shorts and one of his t-shirts adorning your body. “oooh, put it on!” you joined rafe under the covers, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. anyone from the outside would’ve looked at you and rafe and thought you two were a little too close to be best friends, and while they might be right, you and rafe loved being close like this.

“i’m surprised you’re wearing a sweatshirt,” you tugged at the soft material, “i like it.” rafe looked down at you, the corner of his lips quirking. “yeah?” he pulled you closer, his large palm splaying across your lower back. you hummed breathing in his cologne. he was so warm and just so big, you couldn’t help but snuggle into him more. the movie started playing, the soundtrack playing softly in the background as you two fell into a comfortable silence.

“these are the movies you watch strictly for the vibes, because the acting is terrible.” you gasped at rafe’s words, unintentionally moving against his front side. he cursed under his breath, backing away slightly so you couldn’t feel his hardening cock through his sweatpants. “it’s not that bad.” you giggled, backing up on him which only made rafe shut his eyes. he was trying his hardest to keep his cool right now, but with the way your shorts rode up past the curves of your ass, it was nearly impossible.

rafe was growing fidgety, his movements not going unnoticed by you. “are you okay?” you turned around, his cheeks flushed pink as a thin sheen of sweat coated his skin. “yeah— yes, i’m just uhm.. i’m burning up in this sweatshirt.” you took your bottom lip between your teeth, your fingers dancing along the hem of his shirt. “so take it off.” rafe swallowed thickly, feeling your nails graze just above his v-line. “what?” he laughed nervously, waiting for you to say you were kidding. “..take it off.” you repeated, watching the way rafe’s chest rose up and down with every breath.

even though you two constantly teetered the edge of what friends did and didn’t do, rafe always made sure to never cross the line.. unless you wanted to, of course. “a-are you sure?” rafe was already going through a mental battle, his jaw ticking when you took it upon yourself to pull his sweatshirt over his head. tonguing his cheek, you and rafe shared a glance before you averted your attention back to the tv. “can you hold me?” rafe knew he couldn’t say no to you, nor did he want to.

letting you rest your head on his bicep, he pulled you against his chest, his hand slipping under your, his, t-shirt. it was hard to focus with his hand on your tummy, his hard-on nestled between your cheeks while his breath fanned the back of your neck. you only lasted ten minutes like this, your hips moving on their own accord as rafe trailed his hand further up your torso. he froze when he felt the swells of your breasts against his thumb, a curse leaving his lips as he whispered in your ear.

“you’re fuckin’ killing me right now.” he groaned, taking one of your tits in his hand. you arched into him, reaching behind you to palm him through his pants. resting his head in the curve of your neck, rafe licked a stripe up against your skin, his tongue running over the sensitive spot of your flesh. you moaned, the sound making his cock stir. you’ve wanted rafe like this for so long, you couldn’t believe he was finally touching you the way you’ve wanted for so long.

craning your neck so you could see his face, you continued stroking him through his pants, his lips finding yours before he slipped his freehand under the waistband of your shorts. “no panties either? fuck, you were just begging for this cock weren’t you?” you whimpered a ‘mhmmm’, before you felt his middle and ring fingers dip between your folds. “what the fuck? you’re soaked..” he grazed your clit, your body jolting in pure unadulterated pleasure.

“when did that happen, huh? was it when you took my shirt off?” rafe slid his fingers down to your entrance, gathering the pool of wetness there before gliding his digits back up to your sensitive bundle of nerves, “or was it when you got under the covers and put your ass where i needed you most?” he whispered the last part, admiring the way your eyebrows knitted together in desperation, your lips glossy with his spit.

“please, i need you so bad, ray!” you cried, refraining from whining when he took his hand out of your shorts. bringing his digits up to your lips, you welcomed them in your mouth where rafe watched you suck your sweetness off of them. “you’re such a fuckin’ whore, i didn’t even need to ask you to do that.” he watched with a dark gaze, your tongue swirling around his fingers and sucking them as if it was something else. “you look so pretty when you’re cock hungry..” rafe teased, pulling away from you to take his sweats off.

you got on your knees, crawling to the edge of the bed where rafe stood fully naked. he was so hard, your mouth practically watered when he pulled you closer to him by your chin. “can i please taste you?” you gazed up at him with those watery eyes as he threaded his fingers through your hair. “oh, how sweet of you for asking,” he tugged at the hair on your scalp, his cock just centimeters away from your face, “do whatever you want with it, ‘pretty. it’s yours.”

you gave him that smile that made him fall in love with you all those months ago before licking a stripe up from the underside of his length, lapping up the pre cum that managed to dribble down his cock. rafe was mesmerized as he watched you, your pretty eyes never leaving his as you managed to wrap your lips around his sensitive tip. he was so big compared to you, he worried about how you’d be able to take it all. slowly, you kept lowering yourself until he bottomed out in your throat, the man above you in complete awe.

rafe was turned on beyond belief, the urge to just wrap his fists in your hair and fuck your face until you’re choking on it made him feral. you stilled, swallowing around him until he had to pull you off. “are you fucking with me right now? you want me to cum inside your mouth that bad?” he squeezed your cheeks together, landing a harsh smack to your ass. you yelped, nodding frantically as he pulled his t-shirt off of your body. with your tits now on full display, rafe balled your hair up and lowered you down onto his cock again.

you doubled over, your back arching as he thrusted into your mouth at an unforgiving speed. the sounds coming from between your lips were nothing short of obscene, heavy tears now rolling down your cheeks. rafe couldn’t formulate a single thought, his brain empty as he reveled in the feeling of your throat taking his cock. he fantasized about this for so many nights, wanting nothing more than to have you at his mercy and letting him take you however he wanted. fuck, he just knew you’d let him too. his pretty little best friend finally taking his cock, he could just cum at the thought.

as if rafe was brought back to earth from floating on cloud nine, he groaned when the band in his stomach snapped, his high washing over him in waves of pure ecstasy. his cum shot down your throat, the thick white ropes painting your tongue as his thrusts grew sloppy, his hold on your hair loosening as he let out a string of curses. “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..” rafe lost himself like never before, a hiss leaving his lips as you kept bobbing your head, desperate to take each drop.

“y/n—” he shuddered, pushing you away before you could keep going. overstimulated and out of breath, rafe pulled you up to look at your face. “i’m so sorry, i didn’t think i was going to finish that fast..” he was slightly embarrassed, but even more confused as you shook your head. “it’s okay!” you pecked his lips, batting your eyelashes at him as if he didn’t just cum in your mouth without permission. “where is it?” he cupped your cheeks, your mouth clean of any cum.

“what?” you whispered, equally as confused until rafe’s eyes widened in realization. “did you fuckin’ swallow it?” his thumbs hooked between your lips, opening your mouth to check for himself. he couldn’t put into words how bad he wanted you right now, the simple fact that you took what he gave you so eagerly made him tackle you back down on your sheets, his lips melting against yours in an instant. you welcomed him between your thighs, moaning in his mouth as he took your shorts off.

“sit on my face.” he rolled over, pulling you on top of him. you didn’t have any time to process what was happening before he pulled your thighs down on either sides of his head. rafe wasted no time, his tongue flicking between your folds. you gasped, scrambling to grip his arms as he dragged your hips across his mouth. “you taste amazing, holy fuck.” he circled your clit, sucking the sensitive bud before digging his fingers into your skin.

you cried out, eyes fluttering shut as you clenched around nothing. “f-feels so good, rafe!” the man beneath you moaned, his chest filling with pride as you writhed on top of him. despite his mouth working wonders on your soaked cunt, you felt so empty, wanting nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch of his cock. “need you inside, ray,” you looked down at him, “please fuck me.” grunting at your words, rafe gave you a nod.

standing up on shaky legs, rafe sat up against your headboard before pulling you back down on his lap. “wait— i don’t have any condoms.” rafe was panting, his lips glistening with your slick. “so?” you kissed him, grinding helplessly on his cock. “you’re okay with that? if i don’t use one?” you hummed, trailing kissing across his toned chest. “fuck— okay, baby.” rafe wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you up as you reached down and lined him up with entrance. making sure you were looking at his face, rafe lowered you slowly, both of you moaning as you sunk down on his length.

you felt so warm and tight wrapped around him like this, both of you shuddering once he filled you to the hilt. “you okay?” his voice was gentle as he spoke to you, his fingers stroking your chin as you nodded. “yes, i just feel so full.” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “listen to me,” rafe started, “you’re not just my best friend after this. me and you? we’re together, alright?” you blinked, a smile gracing your features as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “really?” you felt giddy, your small laugh being cut short when he moved his hips.

“yes, really..” he trailed off, “i need you to know that i love and respect you, because the way i’m gonna fuck you right now? you just might forget.” you were about to question what he meant when he bear hugged you and started thrusting into you from below, your lips parting as a shriek ripped itself from your throat. “oh, fuck!” you rarely cursed, the word throwing rafe for a loop before he smirked to himself. “you cussing now, angel? is the dick that good?” you buried your face in his chest, unintentionally biting down on the flesh as his thighs smacked the bottoms of your ass.

rafe’s force was brutal, his tip kissing your cervix with every movement of his hips. “yes! yes, it’s so good!” you cried, holding onto him for dear life. “i’ve thought about doing this for so long,” he groaned, “just’ wanted you to be mine already.” rafe looked up at you as if you weren’t real, like you’d disappear into thin air if he didn’t hold you tight. he continued like this, leaving open mouth kisses between your neck and shoulder, your head knocking against the headboard.

“shit— sorry.” he laid you down, pinning your knees to your chest before slamming back into you again. nothing could top this, you were sure of it. with rafe pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, and his fingers now rubbing your clit, it wasn’t long before you were sobbing out, both you and rafe kissing each other as your orgasm hit you, quite literally stealing your breath away. rafe came twice, unaware that he could even do that within a fifteen minute time span.

your stomach caved in as you attempted to breathe, your heart beating in your ears as your back arched off of your sheets. “..rafe,” your voice just barely above a whisper before you gasped, the man on top of you cradling your head as he watched you come undone beneath him. you were crying, moaning hysterically as your high came over you, rendering you speechless while rafe marveled at the sight. “too much?” you nodded, rafe pulling out before shushing you with a peck to your lips.

you were still going through the aftershocks of your orgasm when he pulled the blanket over you two, both of you flushed against each other as he eased you down from your high. as if the moment couldn’t get any better with you shyly smiling at each other, the song ‘roslyn’ started playing from the movie, both of you stroking the other’s skin. “are we really together now, or were you just thinking with your other head?” rafe laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist. “no i meant it.” he traced the curve of your lips, admiring you until you fell asleep.

[lovscb97]

— enhypen links [hyung line]

tags: hyung line!enhypen x fem!reader, established relationship, squirting (like . a Lot), daddy kink, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex (plz don't), creampie, rough sex, exhibitionism, bondage, edging, overstimulation, punishments, spanking, nicknames (princess, angel, etc), degradation (slut, whore, etc), reader being a brat, slight dacryphilia, etc

wc: 2.35k

add. notes: reposting bcs blr shadowbanned the last post BOOOOO also plz do not interact if u r a minor!!! look away shoo shoo!!! n also do lmk if some of the links r not working for u guys :] Also. sorry one last thing but u can tell how these answers got progressively longer LMFAOOOOO

. . .

⥽ … LEE HEESEUNG: 

link one.

heeseung loves making you squirt, it's a given knowing his ego and how much pride he takes in the fact that he's the only one who can make you feel so good. some days, he'll fuck up into you until you're shaking and squirming on top of him, crying out wanton moans of his name and incoherent pleas begging him to stop, but he doesn't listen of course. his one and only goal when engaging sexually with you is to make you shoot streams of liquid all over his dick and sheets, and he'll stop at nothing to achieve that. i'd even go so far as to say he can be pretty mean, although i wouldn't put him at the top of that list when comparing with the rest.

"seungie, please!" you sob, fresh tears streaming down your face as your boyfriend milks a third orgasm from you. "just one more, angel. you can do it." heeseung grunts, his cock painfully sensitive after having already cum inside you. but, of course, that won't stop him from giving you the fuck of a lifetime. his current goal right now is to make you cream all over his dick, but what he doesn't expect is clear droplets to be released from your pussy as he overstimulates you. your body slumps on top of his, tired and spent, but it's only a matter of seconds until you're being manhandled onto your back. before you can even ask what he's doing, your boyfriend cuts you off. "i need to see you do that again." he grins wickedly, and you sigh. it's going to be a long night today.

link two.

whenever you act out in front of heeseung, like going so far as to tease him in front of his friends by sending promiscuous photos of yourself or running a hand sensually against his clothed bulge, he never hesistates to put you back in your place. sometimes he'll be so pent up after trying to have enjoyed a boys night out only to have cut it short because of your raunchy actions, he won't even make it past the living room, dragging you towards the couch and yanking your panties down before he's sheathing himself inside you. he'll grip a fistful of your hair whilst drilling himself into your cunt, making sure to remind you who's in charge despite the fact that you both know you'll never learn your lesson.

"you wanna act like a slut, i'll fuck you like one." heeseung growls, his thrusts sharp and precise with the way he's delivering them inside you. by now, you've been reduced to a mess of gasps and moans, too fucked out to speak, which only makes your boyfriend chuckle darkly. "what, now you wanna go all quiet on me? what happened to all that attitude, princess?" he mocks, his palm striking a harsh slap on your ass which makes you yelp. "s-sorry, 'm sorry!" you whine, trying to push back on him with a hand, but heeseung only swats it away, tsk-ing at your behavior. "oh, it's too late for sorry, baby." he mumbles, bending down close to whisper in your ear, his words making you shiver. "i'm gonna fuck you until there's nothing left in that stupid, little whore brain of yours. and you're gonna take it. got that?"

⥽ … PARK JONGSEONG: 

link one.

jay loves giving it to you like he'll never be able to fuck you again. his movements are always precise, hitting that spot hidden deep inside of you with each angled thrust. his favourite way to have you is on your back in missionary too, both your legs hanging off the side of his waist as he pounds himself in you, making sure to coax lots of sweet noises from your mouth that he knows only he can make you let out. it's no secret that you love it too, relishing in the way his muscles flex as he thrusts inside your cunt that he's already cum in, his only current goal to make you cum once more before he'll pull out and wipe you down. or, if he's feeling particularly up for it, he'll continue fucking you even after you've both cum for the second time, making sure you're both overstimulated and tired by the end of things.

the only sounds audible by now are the noises of your loud whimpers and skin slapping as jay brutally bullies his cock in and out of you, your hands shooting out to resist his actions despite the fact that he's so much stronger than you. your attempts to resist him are completely futile, and it only makes him laugh sadistically at you struggling to take him. "aww, 's too much for you, honey?" he coos, and you only cry out with a nod, strings of curses leaving your lips at an expertly placed thrust that slams deep inside you. at this point, you're worried he's going to batter your cervix to a pulp, but that thought is long lost when his thumb comes down to swipe at your clit. "don't worry, sweetheart. daddy's gonna make sure he fucks you until you're crying, yeah?"

link two.

every once in a while, namely when you're both too lazy to indulge in it, your boyfriend will forego the dramatics and fuck you with nothing but love in his eyes. he'll kiss you so sweetly, his actions nothing short of gentle yet firm with the way he'll grip your waist and push himself into you bit by bit until you're clenching down on him in utter pleasure. he'll revel in the way your tits bounce in his face, leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking on it which only makes the coil in your stomach that much closer to snapping. it won't take long until you're both reaching your highs, you creaming around jay's cock and him shooting ropes of white deep inside you to the point you can feel it gushing out from how much there is.

"fuck, princess. don't squeeze me like that, i'll cum." jay groans, confused when you simply shake your head with a moan. "wan' your cum, jjongie, please." you beg, and his heart positively melts because who is he to deny the request of such a beautiful girl, no less his own beautiful girl? it's only when you clench down on him and grab his hand to bring it up to squeeze your chest when he feels the band in his lower half snap, emptying himself inside of you with a long drawn grunt that only pushes you off the edge. there's so much cum that you can feel it seep out of your hole when he goes to pull his softening cock out, watching him eye it in awe. "you're so perfect f'me." jay praises, kissing you gently on the lips as you muster a tired smile back.

⥽ … SIM JAEYUN:

link one.

firm believer of the munch jake agenda just like anyone else because have you seen the man? his oral fixation goes craaaazy, up until the point he constantly needs to have your clit throbbing against his tongue as he drags the wet muscle through your folds. jake will happily spend hours upon no end between your thighs, his face buried into your cunt as he noisily whines into it. everything about it is intoxicating to him; your scent, the way your arousal leaks onto the sheets, how your tight hole clenches in need, all of it. he'd die a fulfilled man if you smoothered him to death in the midst of his endeavours so as long as it's because of your pussy that he's passing away. of course, you think he's a little insane, but you love him regardless.

"mm, jakey.." you whimper, feeling your boyfriend lick into every crevice of your core with meticulous precision, so focused on the task at hand that he doesn't even bother to pull away and only responds with a hum. before you can even get a word out, he's dragging his plump lips up to wrap around your swollen bundle of nerves, not caring how sensitive you may be because to him, this is the sweetest treat of all. "s-shit, 'm gonna cum." you whine, trying to warn him as the band in your stomach grows closer to snapping, but jake doesn't let up. he continues to eat you out even through your orgasm, his chin getting splattered with your juices in the process as he messily slurps everything up. by the time he finally pulls away, you're panting heavily, but your boyfriend is far from done. "again, please." he bats his puppy dog eyes at you, and who are you to deny him?

link two.

jake is also a certified freak. he's into risky situations where anyone could catch him, which makes sense when you consider how your picnic date with him turned into you getting absolutely wrecked by his dick inside your pussy. it started out so innocent, with you in your little sundress, and him in his favourite hoodie, but all of that was soon discarded and you were on your back against the scratchy grass, gushing around your boyfriend's cock as he pummeled into you with a fervor you'd never seen him have before. something about the prospect of fucking in public turned him on so much, and if you were being very honest, it turned you on too.

"ah, jake. we r-really shouldn't." you stutter, feeling your boyfriend's mushroom tip catch against your clit. you shuffle on the uncomfortable bed of grass underneath just as jake hushes you, slowly pushing himself in with one fluid motion that makes the both of you sigh in relief. "sorry, baby. you just looked so good in your pretty little dress, i had to have you." he groans, hiking said dress up your thighs as you whine, kicking your legs up. jake seems to get your cue because before you can continue pleading him to move at last, he's thrusting into you, thick cock plunging deliciously inside. your noises are loud, and there's no way anyone could mistaken what you two are up to if they were to pass by, so you really are glad for the fact that the entire area is deserted, especially considering that once jake's started, he's going to be insatiable, sure to cum inside you at least twice before he even thinks of taking you home to repeat the process all over again.

⥽ … PARK SUNGHOON:  

link one.

sunghoon's a perv, and like any other perv, he has his secret fantasies; your panties. even before he started dating you, he'd dream about fucking you after having tugged your underwear to the side, pushing his cock in your tiny hole while the flimsy article of clothing you've yanked aside becomes wet from your leaking juices, even better if it's after he's cum on them. sometimes, when he wants to punish you, he'll fuck you through your panties, making sure he indulges himself without directly giving you what you want— his seed. he'll even go so far as to edge you, cockhead bumping against your clit through the messy fabric, just enough stimulation to build up your orgasm, but not enough to have you tipping over the edge. how mean, indeed.

"hoonie," you cry, tears welling up in your eyes out of frustration after your fourth ruined orgasm, especially since this is the second time your boyfriend has cum, much less without you. "what is it now, you ungrateful slut?" he spits out, eyebrows furrowed in a glare as he stares you down, making you gulp. sunghoon got mean a lot, and each time he did, it never failed to have you leaking everywhere. "wan' cum. wan' your cum, too. please. 'm sorry. i'll be good, please." you beg shamelessly, and your boyfriend laughs with a sinister air to his voice. "oh yeah? you're sorry?" he bites his lip, admiring the way his cum has stained the pretty pink laces you've worn today. "too fucking bad." he hisses as he slides his red tip against your clothed clit once more, making you whine. "sluts don't get cum. they get punishments. so, be a good bitch and take what i give you."

link two.

tying you up is one of sunghoon's favourite things to do to you in sex. he loves the way you look, all pliant and moulded into the position he desires to have you in, especially with how the silk of the fabric decorates your skin. of course he'll kiss away the bruises you get after you're done, but that'll only be after he's had his way with you. he also gets off on the power trip it gives him. when you're bound by some material to the headboard, it gives him the liberty to do whatever he wants with you. it's like you're giving your body up as bait, except instead of missing out on it as the predator, he's seizing his opportunity to have his way with you, and boy does he enjoy it far too much.

"oh, my pretty angel. you look so beautiful like this, completely spread out and at my mercy." sunghoon purrs, his cold fingers grazing the skin of your back as you shiver. your face is muffled by the pillows he's buried your head against, the position your boyfriend has tied you up in this time leaving no room for speaking when you're ass up in front of him. you'd be a liar if you said you didn't love relinquishing control and satiating his desires like this, plus sunghoon always fucks you so deep whenever he has you bound for him. "now," sunghoon licks his lips, pumping his free cock in one hand as he brings it up to your opening. "i'm gonna fuck you, and if you stay quiet, maybe i'll think about letting you cum." your eyes widen, a quiet moan escaping you when he suddenly enters. it dies down in your throat when you feel a harsh slap land on your inner thigh. "i said be quiet, slut." sunghoon growls, causing you to swallow. oh, you were royally fucked.

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

[snowballseal]

Sleepy Affection

Sylus X Reader

Summary: You're tired. Sylus is the best cuddle partner. Lots of soft love here. That's it.

Word Count: 1061

Note: Self indulgent really, I have a hard time with burnout and sleeping in general, but I know cuddling with this man would solve all of that. Sorry if I overused adjectives.

---

Days as a hunter are long. It’s a part of the job, always being alert, always willing to help when the need arises. And you love it. You love being awake before the sun rises, and the exhaustion in your limbs as you walk home. It satisfies the restlessness in your bones.

But still, it’s hard to not hit burnout eventually.

You can feel it weighing down your body as you step out of headquarters. The sun is just rising over Linkon, and you narrow your eyes up at the sky. Of course you worked through the night. It was that or let your paperwork drag into your weekend. Maybe not the best decision. You sigh, rolling your shoulders. Every muscle in your body aches for sleep.

You don’t want to go home, though. It would be too quiet, too empty. If anything, you would probably end up staring at your ceiling, impossibly restless despite how tired you are. And that sounds absolutely awful.

Before you can think too hard about it, your feet are carrying you towards the transit center. To the one place where you feel safe, despite all the reasons you shouldn’t.

---

The N109 Zone is strangely quiet in the early morning gloom. The streets are nearly empty, the only sound coming from the electric buzz of the overhead wires and the snuffling of a stray dog on the corner. For a fleeting moment, you wonder if being a criminal makes you allergic to the day. Or maybe they’re all vampires. An amused hum dances past your lips at the thought. Perhaps they’re not after the aether core in your heart, but your blood.

One man seems to be at least.

By the time you reach Sylus’ place, it feels like you're walking through a light fog. Or stepping into a dream. The home greets you with a pleasant warmth that eases the tension in your muscles. Music drifts through the halls, distant and fuzzy with that old quality that vinyl has. Like a siren song, it draws you deeper into the dark comfort of the manor.

Right to your sleeping dragon.

Even while he’s sleeping, Sylus looks…dignified. Ethereal even. The soft light peaking through his curtains casts a glow on his features, dancing across his white lashes, making them almost look like snowflakes. Your eyes trail over the relaxed line of his jaw, the contours of his chest and shoulders. He lies so still, you could almost believe he’s a statue, if not for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He just looks so…perfect.

It’s hard to believe that this is Onychinus’ feared leader. 

Toeing off your boots, you tread carefully to the edge of the bed. The mattress dips under your weight, the sheets soft and silky under your fingers. Sylus lets out a low sigh at the movement, red eyes flickering open ever so slightly before falling back shut. Without a word, he shifts and lifts the sheets for you to crawl in next to him.

His warmth draws you in, just like his wispy, old music. You can’t resist it, not that you want to. It’s all the invitation you need to tuck yourself as close as possible, like an exhausted little kitten looking for a safe place to sleep. Sylus immediately draws your leg over his hip, long fingers kneading lazily at your thigh. Every part of you presses against his addicting warmth, drawing a content hum from your lips, completely pliant under his touch. He could do anything to you right now and you wouldn’t complain. But there’s an almost reverent feeling to the way he holds you, the way he traces shapes along your skin and presses gingerly into your wound up muscles.

It’s a rare moment of pure gentleness. No teasing quips. No haughty smirk. Just you and Sylus, the air between you thick with something so incredibly tender. You stay like that for what feels like forever, time lost to soft touches and quiet sighs. Neither of you are willing to break whatever spell has fallen over the room. 

Soon enough, though, the weight of your eyelids becomes too difficult to fight. You tuck your face into the curve of his throat, the scent of his cologne washing over your senses. It’s spicy and warm, like worn leather and rum, just so perfectly Sylus.

You wish you could stay like this forever, floating pleasantly on the edge of sleep with him. Just with him. An indescribable fondness curls somewhere deep in your chest.

“I missed you,” you admit into the crook of his neck, your voice thick with sleep and something vulnerable.

“Mmmm, I was wondering why you crawled into my bed in the middle of the morning.” 

He wasn’t, really. You both feel it whenever you can’t see each other for too long. It’s like the worst feeling of homesickness. He won’t admit to it, but you can feel it in the way his arms curl possessively around your waist, like he never wants to let you go. You slide a hand up to his chest, savoring the warmth of his skin, the steady thrum of his heart under your palm. You’ve missed this. Sylus shivers at your teasing touch, those red eyes finally flickering open again to look down at you, half-lidded and unfocused. You hold his gaze, trying to memorize every detail, every fleck of color, the dark gleam of fondness in their depths, matching your own. This is the real Sylus. Gentle and kind, passion burning just below the surface. The one only you get to see. And you love him more than you’ll ever be able to explain.

You curl your arms around his narrow waist, forehead pressing against his chest, “Is it okay that I came?”

You already know the answer. Still, Sylus humors you.

“I would have it no other way,” he rumbles lowly, lips brushing against your hair. “Now rest, sweetheart, I can tell how tired you are. We can talk in the evening.”

You hum, eyes finally falling shut, “Promise?”

“I promise.”

And just like that, you find it impossible to stay awake any longer, lulled by his words and the sound of his breathing. Every nerve, every worry, washes away, leaving you to fall into the darkness you’ve been craving, dreaming of the weekend you can spend together.

---

Honestly took so long to write. I wanted to moment to feel soft and more drawn out, don't know if it worked. But I hope y'all liked it :)

[pathologicalreid]

safe space | s.r.

in which Jack Hotchner comes to your classroom after spotting Mr. Scratch on school grounds

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst content warnings: takes place during early season 12, mr scratch/peter lewis, kindergarten teacher!reader, mom!reader, wife!reader, the spencer reid dilf agenda, nondescript illness, lying to your spouse word count: 1.9k a/n: this just popped into my head while i was watching season 12 AND @lilacsandlavenderhaze has a request in for kindergarten teacher!reader angst AND i wanted to give lia reading material for her train ride so we are killing three birds with one stone

You’d just turned your monitor off when you heard a knock at your door. Initially, you assumed it was Janet, a member of the custodial staff, coming to see if you had left for the day, but as you approached the door, you didn’t see anyone through the small window.

Your footsteps faltered, hesitating to open the door because you weren’t sure what you’d find on the other side, you were certainly surprised to find Jack Hotchner standing outside of your door. Frowning, you stepped to the side as he shoved into your classroom, “Jack? What’s wrong?”

Sometimes, Jack would sit in your classroom while you finished work, and you’d take him home to help out his dad and aunt, but as far as you knew, the BAU was in town, and Hotch didn’t need any extra help today. “He’s here,” Jack said ominously, his tone enough of a warning to prompt you to close your classroom door.

“Who’s here?” You asked, clicking the door shut and turning back to him. He was nervous, clutching the straps of his backpack like it was a lifeline.

Wide-eyed, Jack peeked out the windows next to your door, “Peter Lewis.”

Instinctively, you locked your classroom door, before standing in front of Jack, “Honey, how do you know who that is?”

He gulped, probably wondering if he’d get in trouble for knowing something he shouldn’t have, but in this case, his knowledge might have protected him. “I saw my dad’s files out on the kitchen table, I recognize his face.”

Technically, Peter Lewis wasn’t a name you were supposed to recognize, and yet, you’d heard the name from Spencer’s lips countless times in the last year. Even more so since he managed to escape from prison, “Where did you see him?”

“Outside by the busses,” he told you, following you through your classroom until you made it back to your desk, searching for your cell phone. “Are you gonna call Uncle Spencer?”

You shook your head, scrolling through your contacts until you came across one Aaron Hotchner, “I’m calling your dad.” Blood drained from your face as realization dawned on you, “Jack, do you know where Henry is?”

He tapped on your desk anxiously; the fidgeting was the only movement that clued you into his nervousness. Jack’s facial expression was completely stoic, and you wondered, not for the first time, if it was genetic. “He went home early,” He told you, “His dad picked him up.”

Nodding to yourself as you clicked the call button on your phone and held it up to your ear, grateful that you didn’t need to be a haven for multiple BAU kids. You’d had both boys as students in kindergarten, but Henry was in second grade and Jack was in fifth now.

“Hello?” A familiar voice came in through the phone, instinctively, you reached out a hand and smoothed Jack’s hair back.

You smiled sadly at Jack, you didn’t call Hotch often, and when you did, it was seldom good news. “Hey, Hotch,” you greeted him, “I’ve got Jack here in my classroom, and I think we have a bit of a situation.”

Explaining the events of the afternoon to Hotch, you heard him packing up to leave work on the other line—the click of his briefcase, the placement of pens in a mug. “Can you put me on speakerphone?” He asked. Of course, you obliged, letting Jack take the phone in his hands, “Hey buddy, you did the right thing by going to Mrs. Reid’s classroom.”

“I saw him in your folders,” Jack said, trying to explain himself.

There was a fine line that needed to be walked when it came to what you all decided to tell your children. In this case, Jack’s snooping might have been what kept him safe. It made your chest ache, and it made you anxious to get home to your own kids. “I know, it’s okay. I’m gonna leave work and come pick you up…” His voice trailed off for a moment, “Can you give the phone back to Mrs. Reid?”

Jack handed the phone to you, and you smiled softly at him, “Hey, why don’t you take a seat in one of the bean bag chairs?” You gestured to your classroom’s comfy corner and brought the phone back up to your ear, “Hey.”

“Would you mind staying at the school with him? Just until I can get there, I just have to make sure I let Dave know that I’m leaving,” he informed you.

You swallowed thickly, it was a wonder that you were more nervous than Jack was right now, but maybe that was a blessing in disguise. “Yeah, that’s fine, Hotch. I’ll be here for as long as you guys need,” you assured him, watching as Jack dutifully opened his backpack and pulled out a binder.

Hotch released a sigh of relief, “Thank you, Y/N.”

After hanging up the phone, you went over to your snack cabinet and pulled out a package of goldfish crackers, bringing them over to Jack and holding them out for him to take. They were his favorite when he was in your class, and you hoped they still were. Maybe he was just humoring you when he took them gratefully, “Do you want something to drink?”

“Just water is fine,” he answered, focused on the pages on his lap.

You hesitated, “Are you sure?” You wandered over to your desk and opened the small fridge that you stashed beneath it, “I have some yogurt drinks… I have apple juice. Does your dad usually let you have juice?”

Holding out the juice box like an offering, you let him see it before he answered, “Sometimes.”

“Well, I think he’ll forgive me today,” you admitted, acknowledging the extenuating circumstances. You kept the juice boxes in your classroom in case of a low blood sugar, but you worried about giving him too much sugar without his dad’s permission. Then again, Jack could probably handle more sugar than your toddlers could.

He thanks you again, this time for the juice box, and sets it on the small side table with his opened bag of goldfish.

You noticed his drawings in the binder, he was in the process of coloring in a bunch of spaceships, but it wasn’t his precise coloring that you took note of, it was the fact that he was coloring in lines that he had drawn himself. Quickly, you texted your nanny to let her know that you’d be a little late getting home before sitting down in the bean bag next to him. “Those are really well done, Jack.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, focused on getting the straw into his juice box.

Deciding to try again, you wiped your clammy palms on your skirt, “Is that what you want to do when you grow up?” You asked him, peeking over at the papers again, “Design spaceships.”

Jack shrugged in response as he took a sip from his juice, “I’m not sure.”

Nodding in understanding, you let him sit and continue his drawing, smiling when he periodically snacked on a goldfish. You wondered if Hotch had the same fear as you. That one day, one of your kids would come up to you and proclaim that they wanted to be an FBI agent just like their dad. You wanted the best for your kids, and you wanted them to follow their own dreams, but not at the cost that the FBI took.

You both startled when a knock came at your door, you gently touched the side of Jack’s chair, “It’s probably just your dad,” you reassured him, “I’ll go look.”

Setting down your snack, you warily approached your classroom door, releasing a sigh of relief when you saw Hotch on the other side. “Hey,” you said, opening the door for him, “Jack, he’s here.”

He started shoving his things in his backpack, minding his juice and snack on the table as he tossed the bag over his shoulders. “Hi, dad,” he greeted.

“Hey, bud,” Hotch greeted with a small wave before he turned to you, “I didn’t say anything to anyone before I left, and I was wondering if you could refrain from mentioning anything to Reid.”

You shifted uncomfortably on your feet, “I don’t keep secrets from my husband, Hotch,” you told him, shrugging slightly as you did.

Hotch nodded, “Could you just… delay it by a day, then? Just until I’m able to sort some things out.”

Meeting his gaze, you recognized the fear in them; it was the same fear you saw in Spencer’s eyes every time an UnSub got a little too close to the team. The look you saw when you and the kids were put into protective custody. With that in mind, your head bobbed, “Sure thing, Hotch.”

A day, you could do a day, you assured yourself as the three of you said your goodbyes, leaving you to relock your door and return to your desk. You took a seat, resting your chin in your hands as you eyed a photo on your desk. It was from last Christmas when you and Spencer took the kids to meet Santa. They were all grinning at the camera, even your youngest, who usually bore a scowl.

Closing your eyes, you tried to convince yourself to get up and head home when your phone started ringing. You sighed at the sight of the Caller ID: Spencer.

Swiping the screen, you brought it up to your ear, “Hi, honey.”

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked you immediately, “You sound upset.”

You sniffled, “No, it’s fine. I just…” you searched your mind for a fib, “There’s something going around the school. A stomach bug or something.”

In the background of the call, you heard the dinging of elevators, familiar BAU sounds, “Yeah, it sounds like Henry’s picked something up, so JJ’s headed home early. I’m worried Jack might’ve gotten it too, Hotch left in kind of a hurry not too long ago.”

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you nodded to yourself, “Uh, yeah. I’m just about to head home myself.”

“Well, with the team down two, Rossi decided we should just call it a day, so I’m actually on my way out too,” he told you. “I was wondering if you wanted to try to take the kids to that new playground out by Falls Church, but if you’re not feeling well, I can just take them and let you rest.”

You laughed weakly, more at the situation than anything, “I’d love to, and the kids will like it too.” At the very least, they’d sleep well tonight after playing their energy away.

He hummed over the phone, “Perfect, I’ll see you when I get home?” He asked, acknowledging that you had a shorter commute than him and would likely beat him home.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, standing up and gathering your things with your phone wedged between your shoulder and cheek. “Hey, Spence?”

“Yes, lovely?” He chirped in response, clearly in a much better mood than you.

You sighed, “I love you.”

He was silent for a moment, “Are you sure you’re alright? Is something wrong?”

Shaking his head even though he couldn’t see, you answered, “I just really, really love you.”

“Well,” he responded, his grin apparent in his tone, “I really, really love you too.”