#[🌟].imagines

[alinathinkstoomuch]

GAME NIGHT, RUINED

18+ MDNI

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader (was supposed to be nanny!reader but lit rally no mentions of her being a nanny LOL) summary: one question you refuse to answer gives you the best sex of your life. warnings | an: p in v sex, choking, one bite, fingering, oral (f receiving), praise kink?? hotch profiling reader and its so sexy i want to kith him on the mouth, there is aftercare i just didn’t write it, oopsies, established relationship word count: 2.9k

✧ masterlist

In all fairness, you hadn't actually read the rules of the game before suggesting it tonight. But maybe Penelope had – and maybe that's exactly why she'd wrapped it in floral paper with a gingham ribbon, like it was some sweet little gift and not a trap in disguise.

Because now here you were, cheeks warm, pulse ticking too fast, staring down a question that made your soul want to leave your body.

Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad.

You liked being manhandled. Liked a little choking – nothing too wild, just enough to feel it. Worst things have happened. Honestly, it wasn't even that big a deal.

Until you looked up... and saw Aaron’s eyes on you.

You swallowed, looking back down at the card again just as a breathless little laugh slipped out.

Name a turn-on your partner doesn’t know about but should.

“Pretty sure we’ve already had this one,” you said, maybe a little too brightly, as you tucked the card neatly under the deck like it was nothing. “Next!”

You barely brushed the edge of a new card before Aaron’s hand closed over the stack, pulling it right out of reach.

“Oh, are we done playing?” you asked innocently, sitting up a little straighter as your hands slid to your thighs. “Good idea.” You were on your feet now. “Pretty sure there’s a pile of laundry upstairs with my name on it –”

“Sit.”

Your hands hovered for a second before landing on your hips, a half-formed protest catching in your throat, but you obeyed, lowering yourself back down onto the couch, trying to act unbothered. Trying to ignore the way your heart had picked up speed.

“We haven’t been playing this game long enough to get the same card twice,” he said calmly, a small smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“Really? Huh. Could’ve sworn we already had that one.”

He arched a brow. “What was it?”

“Aaron come on,” you deflected, waving a hand like it didn’t matter. “It was something silly.”

He didn’t say anything, just flipped the deck over in his hand, eyes scanning the top card.

“Name a turn-on your partner doesn’t know about but should,” he read aloud. “Hm. Definitely don’t recall hearing your answer to this.”

“You don’t?” you said weakly.

“Just because you keep repeating everything I say doesn’t mean you’re going to get out of answering.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again.

“You begged to play this game,” he continued calmly. “And now you’re skipping cards?” He gave you a dry look. “That hardly seems fair.”

You let out a quiet huff and leaned back into the couch, suddenly very interested in the ceiling. Your heart was beating faster than it should’ve been. Not because you didn’t trust him – you did. Completely. You knew he’d never shame you or make you feel small for wanting something.

But he’d also seen the worst of humanity. He’d spent his career staring into the darkest corners of people’s minds. You weren’t sure how he’d feel knowing his girlfriend got turned on by things like rough hands. The feeling of being pinned down and utterly helpless, even when she wasn’t.

It sounded a lot messier out loud than it did in your head.

“I just…” You hesitated. “It’s not a big deal. It’s probably not even your thing.”

“Well, if you’re unhappy in that department, I’d absolutely like to know what it is.”

“Oh my God – no, no. Not at all. I’m not – unhappy.” Your voice pitched as high as your hands flew up in protest, and now you were spiralling. “I’m very happy. I’m, like, obscenely happy. I think your ability to give me more orgasms in one night than I’ve had in my entire life before meeting you should be studied. Or patented. Or possibly banned in several states –”

He blinked once. Then bit back a smile.

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I do, unfortunately,” you muttered into your palms.

“Then tell me,” he said, voice dipping just a little. “Or am I going to have to profile it out of you?”

You peeked out from between your fingers. “You wouldn’t.”

He gave a mild shrug. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

Your heart thudded.

“You get flustered when you lose control of the conversation. Especially with me. You fidget more. You avoid eye contact like you’re doing right now.”

You shifted almost immediately.

“You like routine and structure. You’re organised to a fault, but the second I step into your space and do something unexpected, you melt.” He tilted his head. “You act like it annoys you, but I’ve watched you for long enough to know it doesn’t. When I back you against the counter. When I pull your hair back mid-sentence just to kiss your neck. When I don’t ask and take instead. You don’t stop me, you lean into it.”

Your mouth went dry.

“You like being told what to do,” he said simply. Like it was a fact. Like it was always obvious. “In little ways. Safe ways. And when you’re overwhelmed, your instinct isn’t to push back, it’s to submit.”

He watched as your throat worked around a hard swallow.

“You like it when I’m in control.”

Your legs pressed together tight. Too late to pretend it hadn’t happened.

He smiled. “You throw around sarcasm, roll yours eyes, push back, pretend to fuss when I get bossy. But the second I tell you what to do – really tell you – you listen.”

You stared at him, cheeks flushed, lips parted.

“And the truth is, you don’t want to say it out loud because you think it’ll sound messed up. But it doesn’t.” He paused for a second. “I understand you and I’m not judging you. I want to give you what you need.”

Another moment of silence passed before he added, “But if you keep pressing your thighs together like that, I’m going to start thinking we’re done playing this game.”

You let a breath out before speaking. “I…I think we’re done playing,” you managed, voice hoarse.

“Yeah? You sure?”

You nodded before your brain could catch up. “Yes.”

“Then get upstairs.”

You rose on shaky legs and turned towards the stairs, amazed you didn’t trip over yourself on the way up. You could hear him following behind unhurried, while your vision nearly swam from what he’d managed to do to you with just words.

Inside the bedroom, you stopped at the foot of the bed, unsure whether to turn around or stay still. But you didn’t have to ask.

“Turn around.”

You obeyed immediately.

He stepped in close, the heat of him pressing into you just as his hand gripped a firm handful of your hair giving it a tug.

“I can feel you shaking,” he murmured, his mouth brushing against your neck. “You’ve been so worked up since downstairs.” His lips trailed along your jaw slowly, down the curve of your neck, before you felt him bite down gently, his tongue smoothing over the sting.

“Clothes off, sweetheart.” He took a step back, giving you space.

You reached for the hem of your shirt and peeled it up over your head, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes tracked every inch of newly exposed skin, like he was cataloguing every place he intended to touch.

You pushed your pants down next, shimmied them over your hips, then stepped out, standing there in just your bra and panties, chest rising and falling.

“All of it.”

Your fingers trembled as you reached behind and undid your bra, letting it slide off your shoulders. Then finally, you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your underwear and slid them down your legs, stepping out of them and standing bare in front of him.

He nodded toward the bed.

You turned and sat on the edge first, heart racing, then eased yourself down, your back meeting the cool sheets as you settled into place beneath his gaze.

It didn’t take long before he was hovering over you, one hand spreading your thighs as he settled between them, the other coming up to rest lightly – so lightly – around your throat.

You whimpered.

“There it is,” he whispered, kissing just beneath your ear. “That little sound you make when you’re starting to let go.”

Then his fingers found your clit, and you arched off the bed with a gasp, eyes fluttering shut as the pressure landed exactly where you needed it

“I can’t possibly imagine why you’d think this isn’t ‘my thing.’” His fingers kept working you. “Feel what you’ve done to me.”

Your hand moved down between you, palming him through his jeans – and Christ, was he hard. Straining against the fabric, so much so that it almost felt painful.

He groaned at the contact, his hips instinctively pressing into your touch.

“See?” he murmured, slipping a finger inside you without warning, drawing a moan from deep in your chest. “This is exactly my thing. And you—” he kissed the corner of your mouth, “you like this is my thing.”

You gasped, your back arching again, but his other hand was already moving, finding your neck again, pressing down just enough to hold you in place.

He leaned in close, brushing his nose along your cheek, his lips barely grazing the shell of your ear as he added a second finger. “You don’t even realize how pretty you are when you’re desperate, do you?” he whispered. “The way you shake. The way you clench around me when I take my time.”

“Aaron…”

He smiled against your skin. “I could keep you like this all night.”

“Please –” was all you managed, the word falling out in a half-broken whimper.

His hand at your throat tightened just enough to make your breath hitch, the same time he curled his fingers inside you. You clenched around him so hard you thought your body might unravel right then and there.

“Fuck – I – I –”

“What is it? Tell me exactly what you need.”

You bucked against him, unable to stop it, hands flying to his forearms – not to push him away, but to hold on. He didn’t move, didn’t ease up either of his hands.

“Or… do you want me to decide for you, hm?”

You couldn’t answer, not in words. Your mind was a haze of heat and ache, your breath catching somewhere between a sob and a moan. Your nails dug into his forearms, desperate for some sort of release.

“Too overwhelmed to answer?”

And then he stilled.

Fingers deep inside you, his body caging yours, hand still resting at your throat but no movement. No friction. No relief. You whined, your hips shifting in an attempt to chase more.

“I’ll decide, then,” he said softly, like he was offering kindness. “You want release? Earn it.”

He withdrew his fingers slowly, achingly slow, and the loss had you nearly sobbing. But before you could even begin to beg, he brought his slick fingers up between you and pressed them to your lips.

“Taste it,” he murmured. “Taste how worked up you are. Taste what you do to me.”

Your lips parted without thought, wrapping around his fingers. You moaned as your tongue slid over them, tasting yourself on his skin. He pressed a little deeper, a little further down your throat, and you hollowed your cheeks, sucking greedily.

“Good girl,” he whispered, voice rough now. “So fucking good for me.”

He began making his way down your body, peppering kisses over your chest, you stomach, your hips. You could feel him everywhere, his breath fanning against your skin, his hands sliding down your thighs, spreading you open again.

He lowered himself between your thighs, and when his mouth finally met you again, it was everything.

His tongue lapped at you, circling your clit before dragging lower to taste all of you. He groaned into you, the sound deep, pushing you that much closer to the edge.

You couldn’t stop yourself from moving – hips bucking, thighs twitching, grinding against his face, desperate for more. But he only gripped your hips harder, strong arms pinning you down like it was nothing. Like your squirming didn’t even faze him. Like it didn’t make a damn bit of difference.

You whimpered, barely coherent and all you could think about was how badly you wanted those bruises. You wanted to see the outline of his fingers tomorrow. You wanted to remember exactly how they got there.

The pressure built low in your stomach, your thighs beginning to tremble, clenching around his face.

“S’okay baby,” he mumbled against you, voice muffled by your skin. “I’ve got you.”

And that was all it took.

Your thighs clamped around his head, your hips jolting up off the bed, and you cried out, high and breathless, one hand flying to your mouth, the other tangled in the sheets. You writhed beneath him, overstimulated and soaked, gasping through the aftershocks. Your whole body was twitching, lips parted, chest heaving.

He finally pulled back, mouth and chin glistening. “You should see yourself. You don’t even know how beautiful you look when you come.”

You were still catching your breath when you heard the sound of his zipper, the clink of his belt hitting the floor. You reached up to brush a strand of hair off your damp forehead, but your hand dropped the second you felt him between your thighs again, tip dragging slowly along your soaked slit.

Your entire body went still, mouth falling open and he hadn’t even pushed inside you yet.

“You okay?” he asked, pausing just long enough to check in.

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes wide. “More than okay. So okay.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Now you want to talk?”

“I’m just –” you started, breath catching every time the head of his cock slid through your folds. “I’m just saying, I didn’t know it could feel like this, and I – God, Aaron –”

And then he thrusted into you.

One deep stroke that filled you completely, stealing the rest of the sentence right out of your mouth. Your eyes flew open, a strangled gasp caught in your throat as your head tipped back against the pillow, hands flying to his shoulders to hold on.

“Yeah,” he gritted out, his voice hot against your ear. “I thought that might shut you up.”

You could only whimper in response, nails digging into his skin as he stayed there, buried to the hilt, giving you no room to think.

“You feel that?” he murmured, rocking into you once, slow and deep. “You take me so fucking well.”

You nodded, mouth open, breathless. “I wasn’t done talking,” you managed to whisper.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to drag the tip out to your entrance and paused. “Go ahead,” he encouraged. “Try.”

“Fuck y–”

He slammed back in, cutting you off mid-word with a thrust somehow deeper than the last.

“Fuck you?” he echoed smugly. “Yeah. I think I will.”

And he did – hips rocking into yours, each thrust pushing you further into the mattress. Then his hand came up, wrapping around your throat again and you clenched around him, a moan escaping your lips. He let out a low tsk, like he’d caught you misbehaving.

He leaned in closer, his chest pressing against yours, his thrusts slowing. They were deeper now, rougher, grinding into you with so much intensity you weren’t even sure where your body ended and his began.

“This,” he murmured, squeezing just a little tighter, “this is what you were so scared to ask for?”

You opened your mouth to answer, to give him something, anything, but he slammed into you before the words could form, another deep, brutal thrust that knocked the breath out of you.

“I—Aaron, I—” you tried again, voice thin.

Another thrust. Harder.

You gasped, your back arching off the bed. “You’re not even letting me –”

He did it again, cut you off with a stroke that had your vision going white at the edges.

“Fuck—you’re doing this on purpose,” you whimpered, dazed and desperate.

“I sure am.” His hand tightened just a little more at your throat. “You want to know what my turn-on is?” he muttered, not waiting for an answer. “Seeing you fucked senseless.”

Another thrust hit that perfect spot, making your entire body jerk beneath him. You tried to speak, to respond, but he snapped his hips again and you mewled out whatever nonsense your uncooperative tongue could muster.

“You want to come?”

You nodded frantically, words useless now, tears brimming from the sheer overload.

“Good. Then do it.”

He reached down between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, setting a pace in perfect sync with his thrusts. Your hips began to stutter as you screwed your eyes shut, the pressure building too fast to stop.

It took mere seconds before your body seized around him.

“Jesus – fuck, that’s it,” he groaned. “You’re so fucking tight when you come –”

His rhythm faltered, stammered and then he was slamming into you one last time, your name falling from his lips as he came.

He loosened his grip on your throat, both hands sliding to your ribcage, gripping you like he never wanted to let go.

Neither of you spoke. Both of you were too focused on catching your breath, sharing the same shallow air like it might not be enough.

Finally, after a minute, he leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your jaw. “Think we should play card games more often.”

tags - @fandomscombine @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue @kiwriteswords @anvdala @supersanelyromantic

dbf!bodyguard!hotch using food as foreplay coming up next to an alina-blog near you!🌟

dividers by cafekitsune

[vacate-et-scire]

Jason Todd had always been built like a tank—broad shoulders, strong arms, a body shaped by years of fighting Gotham’s worst. But now, standing in front of the mirror, all he could see was how different he looked. The muscle was still there, buried under a softer layer that hadn't been there before. His shirts stretched a little tighter around his stomach, his jawline wasn’t as sharp, and—God—he could feel it every time he moved.

He let out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He'd known this was coming. Hanging up the helmet, giving up the fight—it meant letting go of the relentless training too. The bruises had faded, the broken ribs had healed, but his body had started changing in ways he wasn't prepared for.

The worst part was the guilt. Not just for what he used to do, but for caring so much about this now. He'd survived death. He'd clawed his way out of the grave, fought through pain most people couldn't imagine—and yet, a little weight was what was getting under his skin?

"Stupid," he muttered, gripping the sink.

The door creaked open behind him, and he barely caught your reflection in the mirror before you stepped into the room.

"Jay?" Your voice was soft, careful. "You've been in here for a while."

He exhaled through his nose, not turning around. "Yeah. Just thinking."

You leaned against the door frame, watching him. "What about?"

Jason hesitated. He didn't want to say it. It felt shallow. Weak. But you knew him too well, and he knew you weren't going to let it go.

"... I look different," he finally admitted. "And I don't know how..."

You stepped closer, your hands finding his waist from behind, fingers pressing into the soft fabric of his shirt. "Of course you do," you said simply. "You’ve spent years treating your body like a weapon. And now you don’t have to anymore."

He swallowed, his shoulders dropping just slightly. "Yeah, but—I don’t know, I used to be..." He gestured vaguely toward the mirror, frustrated.

"You used to be overworked, underfed, and running on fumes," you countered. "Jason, you didn’t just survive Gotham—you survived yourself."

He went quiet at that.

Your arms wrapped around his middle, and you rested your head against his back. "You're still you. And you're still hot, if you need to hear it."

A short, breathy chuckle escaped him despite himself. "That right?"

You squeezed him tighter. "Mm-hmm. And I’ll say it as many times as I need to."

Jason sighed, a small, tired smile creeping onto his face. He reached down, covering your hands with his. He didn’t know if he’d ever fully shake the feeling, the nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him he wasn’t what he used to be. But you were here. You weren’t letting him disappear into his own head.

[eternalbright-star]

nsfw. Yan!Jock x Gn!Nerd!Reader

Cannot stop thinking about how no matter how your role in the society of your university is small, he somehow never takes his eyes off of you, no matter how much people tell you that he's too good for you.

Screw them and their opinions, he wants that nerds ass.

Your body jolted along with the desk as he pounded you from behind, his large and rough hands gripping your waist as he thrusted his cock into you.

As a reward for being so good for him and helping him study and do his homework, he decided that your hard work for helping him with his studies needs some long needed appreciation.

"You're so good for me... my cute little bookworm... so smart and kind..." he whispered near your ear, toying with your nipples from underneath your shirt as he listened to you moan.

Your hands gripping the edges of the desk as you got lost in the pleasure of his cock hitting all the good spots inside of you.

He groaned, wrapping one arm around your shoulder, pulling you up against his check as he thrusted into you in a different angle, his cock hitting your spot just right, making you see stars as you gripped his bicep as he basically held you in a headlock.

With a few more hard thrusts, he's cumming inside of you with a groan, his thrusts never stopping as he fucked his cum into you, a moan escaping your lips as you clenched around him as you orgasmed.

"Good puppy... letting me fuck you and fill you up with my cum..." he let out a breathy chuckle as he pulled out of you, eyes glancing down to watch his cum seep out of your hole.

He gently lets you bend over the desk once more as he tucked himself back into his pants before going to get some tissues to wipe you down.

After that, he took you out to buy you your favorite fast food and some ice cream.

At least by now, you'll have forgotten about that boy who tried to hook up with you...

Since he's dead anyways🤭

[serapharua]

୨୧ 一 &TEAM REACTION TO YOU BEING SICK AND CLINGY

&team ot9 — GENRE : imagines headcanon fluff — PAIRING : gn.reader — WARNING : none — REQUESTED : by ❄️🌟 anon! ☆ — &t masterlist

K :

The rain taps gently on the windows like a lullaby, soft and steady. You’re bundled under a mountain of blankets on the couch, cheeks flushed with fever, body heavy and aching. It’s the kind of sick that turns the world blurry around the edges. All you want is him, his warmth, his steadiness, his voice.

K returns from the kitchen, balancing a cup of warm tea in one hand and a cool cloth in the other. The moment his eyes meet yours, wide and quietly pleading, his expression softens.

“Still not feeling good, huh?” he murmurs, setting the tea down carefully.

You don’t respond, just stretch your arms out like a child asking to be held. There’s no shame in it, not with him. K gives a small laugh, breathy and fond, before settling down beside you. He lets you curl into him, your head resting against his chest as his arm wraps around your shoulders like second nature.

“Clingy today,” he teases gently, fingers stroking your hair. “Guess I don’t mind.”

And he doesn’t. Not at all. If anything, it makes him feel needed in a quiet, important way. His presence grounds you, his heartbeat beneath your ear like a lullaby, strong and constant. He doesn’t try to pull away or tell you to rest more or even shift to get comfortable himself, he simply holds you, body curved around yours like a shelter.

As the storm outside rumbles softly and the fever makes you drowsy, K whispers now and then, his voice low and careful.

“Just sleep, yeah? I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And he is. Even when you doze off mid-sentence, even when you grip his hoodie like a lifeline. Even when you murmur his name in your sleep.

K stays, warm, quiet, and unshakably patient, like a lighthouse in your stormy head.

FUMA :

You didn’t mean to be this clingy. Really, you didn’t.

But being sick somehow reduces you to your most vulnerable self, and the moment Fuma walks through the door, kicking off his shoes and calling out your name, you shuffle toward him like a lost puppy. You’re bundled in a hoodie far too big for you, his, actually, and your face is flushed from fever, eyes glassy and rimmed with exhaustion.

He stops mid-step, eyes instantly scanning your expression.

“Ahh, you’re still burning up,” he murmurs, setting down the grocery bag of medicine and soup. “Did you miss me that much?”

You nod wordlessly and reach for him, hands outstretched. Fuma doesn’t hesitate, not even for a second. He closes the distance and wraps his arms around you, slow and secure, like he’s putting the whole world back together for you.

“You’re really attached today, huh?” he teases softly, rocking you a little in his arms. His voice is light, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips, and something quieter in his eyes, concern, affection, relief that you’re still you, even if you’re sick and clinging like Velcro.

Fuma is practical about the situation, he always is. He helps you back to the couch, makes sure you’re wrapped in blankets just right, and insists you take your medicine. But all the while, you don’t let go of his sleeve, or the hem of his shirt, or his hand.

And Fuma lets you.

In fact, once everything is settled, he settles in right next to you, letting your legs tangle with his as he adjusts the pillow behind your back. His hand finds your hair, smoothing it gently.

“You’re so clingy when you’re sick,” he says again, half-laughing.

“But I like it,” he adds, quieter this time. “Makes me feel like I can actually take care of you.”

He stays through the sniffles, the dramatic groans, the quiet neediness. And when your head rests against his chest, his heartbeat slow and steady under your cheek, you hear him hum something soft, a melody just for you, warm and healing.

With Fuma, even feeling miserable is oddly comforting.

NICHOLAS :

It starts with a text.

“I feel gross. I miss you.”

Simple. Half-whiny. Barely coherent. But Nicholas knows your moods like the back of his hand, and this one is clear: you’re sick, and you’re reaching out.

He’s at your door not long after, hood up, arms full of things you didn’t ask for but he knew you needed. Ginger tea, congee in a thermos, cough drops, and that soft little plush you once pointed out in a shop window and promptly forgot.

You crack the door open, nose red and eyes heavy, and Nicholas doesn’t say anything at first. He just smiles, gentle and lopsided, with a softness that could melt through the thickest layers of congestion.

“I got you the ugly little bear thing,” he says, holding it up. “Thought it might cheer you up.”

You don’t even look at it. You just hold your arms out and make the smallest sound: “Come here.”

Nicholas chuckles, stepping inside without hesitation. He kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his coat, letting you wrap your arms around his middle like it’s the only thing holding you together. You bury your face against his chest, and he holds you there, one hand stroking your back, the other still holding the bear.

“You’re so clingy when you’re sick,” he murmurs, but he’s already guiding you to the couch, letting you drape yourself over him like a weighted blanket in reverse.

He lets you lie on him while he talks, nothing too loud, just a soft stream of comforting nonsense. Updates on his day, a dumb thing Taki said during practice, how the barista at his favorite café messed up his order but smiled too sweetly for him to complain. All while his fingers run gently through your hair, slow and rhythmic.

“You want tea? Or just me?”

“…Just you,” you mumble, voice thick with congestion and drowsiness.

Nicholas kisses the crown of your head, laughter dancing behind his breath. “Lucky for you, I brought both.”

And when you fall asleep, arm slung around his waist, breath hitching slightly from your stuffy nose, he doesn’t move. Not an inch. He just holds you tighter, tucks the blanket up around your shoulders, and stays.

Because if being sick turns you into a koala, Nicholas is more than happy to be your tree.

EJ :

When Euijoo gets your text, just a sad little “i don’t feel good”, he’s already halfway to grabbing his coat. He doesn’t even wait for you to ask. He just knows. You don’t get sick often, but when you do? You turn into a magnet for comfort, and there’s nowhere you’d rather be than wrapped up in him.

He knocks softly, even though you told him to come in. That’s just how he is, gentle, respectful, always checking in. When he sees you, bundled in blankets with a flushed face and bleary eyes, something in his expression softens completely.

“Oh no,” he murmurs, dropping to his knees in front of you like it’s instinct. “You look like you fought a war in your sleep.”

You pout, throat too sore to joke back, and instead you tug at his hoodie, wordlessly asking him to come closer.

Euijoo does, without hesitation. He sits beside you on the couch, letting you flop across his lap like a tired cat. His hand finds your back, rubbing slow circles, and he leans down to press a featherlight kiss to your temple.

“You didn’t even take your meds yet, did you?” he says, voice warm with fondness, not scolding. “You’re just waiting for me to take care of everything, huh?”

You nod pitifully. He chuckles.

“Okay. I’ll be your nurse,” he says softly, brushing hair away from your forehead. “But you owe me endless cuddles when you’re better.”

The rest of the day is hushed and slow. Euijoo speaks in a near-whisper, like even his voice might disturb your rest. He wipes your forehead with a cool cloth, feeds you warm spoonfuls of porridge with quiet concentration, and murmurs encouragements like, “You’re doing so well,” even when all you’re doing is sipping water.

And when you get especially clingy, arms wrapped around his middle, refusing to let him go even to grab your tissues, he just laughs under his breath and adjusts so you’re both lying down, your face tucked under his chin.

“Alright, alright,” he says gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Later, when you fall asleep on his chest, Euijoo doesn’t move a muscle. He just holds you like something delicate, brushing lazy patterns across your back and whispering, “You’re safe. Just rest.”

Because for Euijoo, love isn’t loud. It’s in the stillness. The care. The way he lets you lean on him completely, especially when you’re too tired to stand on your own.

YUMA :

When you message Yuma saying, “I feel like a soggy tissue. please help,” he sends a voice note back that’s 80% gasp, 10% dramatic wail, and 10% “I’m on my way.”

He shows up at your door in his favorite hoodie, a paper bag of cozy supplies tucked under one arm, and his hair slightly tousled like he ran all the way. He doesn’t even wait for you to greet him properly, he’s already toeing off his shoes and marching in with a determined look.

“Okay, first of all, soggy tissue??” he scolds playfully, kneeling beside you with a hand on your forehead. “That’s way too accurate. You do look kind of… squishy.”

You groan in protest, and he grins, dimples flashing.

“Sorry, sorry,” he adds, voice softening. “But you still look cute. Like a fevered little bunny.”

You pout dramatically, reaching out for him. Yuma doesn’t hesitate, he slides right next to you, lets you bury your face in his chest, and wraps you up like it’s second nature. His arms are warm and secure, but never smothering. He has a way of making you feel held and free all at once.

“I brought everything,” he says proudly. “Cough drops, that weird rice porridge you like, and the fluffy socks that make you feel like you’re walking on clouds.”

He makes the porridge in your kitchen like he’s done it a hundred times, humming a tune while you watch him from the couch, your blanket pulled up to your nose. When he brings it to you, he blows on each spoonful and feeds it to you, smiling when your eyes flutter closed in comfort.

“Good?” he whispers, voice low and sweet.

You nod and tug his sleeve.

When the clinginess kicks in hard, when you refuse to let go of him even while half-asleep, Yuma just laughs and readjusts so your limbs can tangle comfortably.

“You’re like velcro,” he teases softly, nuzzling his cheek against yours. “But I don’t mind. I’m your plushie today, huh?”

And that’s exactly how he acts. He lets you cling. Lets you sleep on him, talk nonsense in your fever haze, whine that your throat feels like sandpaper, and he’s there through it all with warmth and humor and an unshakable tenderness. He even teaches you a goofy healing dance he made up on the spot, just to make you laugh, your stuffy giggles muffled into his hoodie.

When you finally fall asleep on his chest, his hand strokes your hair with rhythmic care.

JO :

You’re not even sure how he got there so fast. One moment, you send a pathetic little text, “i’m sick and sad. come hold me.”, and the next, your apartment smells like the familiar mix of clean cotton and Jo’s subtle cologne.

He doesn’t knock loudly. He slips in like the gentlest breeze, a grocery bag in one hand and a thick blanket folded over the other. He closes the door with a soft click, kicks off his shoes, and glances around until he sees your bundled form on the couch.

“Hey, angel,” he says, his voice low and soft, a kind of hush that feels made for quiet rooms and pounding headaches. “You look like a little ghost.”

You peek out from your blanket cocoon with a groggy whimper, arms stretching toward him in silent desperation.

Jo doesn’t hesitate. He kneels beside you, brushing a hand across your forehead with featherlight fingers. “Hot,” he murmurs, brows knitting. “But still cute. That should be illegal.”

You try to smile, but mostly you just whimper again, sick and clingy and needy in the way that only comes when your body gives up and begs for comfort.

Jo climbs onto the couch without another word, adjusting the blanket so you’re curled against his chest. He smells like warm laundry and, pencil graphite, and the faint trace of caramel from the candy he’s always chewing. His arms slide around you like they were built for it. Like he was meant to hold you when you’re feeling like death warmed over.

“I brought honey lemon tea,” he murmurs into your hair. “And a forehead pack. You wanna eat something, or just hold onto me for a while?”

Your only answer is to grip the front of his sweatshirt with trembling fingers.

Jo just smiles.

“Alright,” he whispers. “I’m here. You can cling all you want.”

And you do. Every time he tries to move, to fetch your tea, or grab the remote, you tug him back down with the tiniest whine, your fingers curled in his sleeve like a lifeline. He teases you gently, never mean, never frustrated.

“So needy,” he says with a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to your fever-warm temple.

When you finally doze off, breath hitching a little with the congestion, Jo doesn’t move. He stays perfectly still, one hand stroking slow circles over your back, the other resting over your heartbeat like he’s syncing with it.

HARUA :

You hadn’t meant to whine so much over the phone, but your throat hurt, your nose was stuffy, and nothing felt right unless Harua was near. So when you texted him with a half-coherent, “I feel awful. Please come over,” you weren’t expecting him to drop everything.

But he did.

There’s a knock at the door just a little while later, polite, light, exactly like him, and when you open it, there he is. Face soft with concern, arms full of everything you didn’t know you needed: your favorite snacks, cold medicine, a bottle of water with a silly sticker on it, and the plushie he accidentally won for you at a claw machine last month.

“Hi,” he says quietly, eyes scanning your face. “You look miserable.” Then, after a heartbeat: “Still cute, though.”

You blink up at him, pouty and congested, and then you just… melt. Arms thrown around his middle, face buried in his hoodie. He lets out a small breath of surprise, but wraps his arms around you without hesitation, pressing his cheek gently against your hair.

“You missed me that much?” he murmurs, voice like warm tea.

Once he gets you back to the couch, he’s calm and efficient, the kind of quiet care that never feels rushed. He puts on a cozy playlist, tucks you in like he’s wrapping a delicate gift, and brushes your hair back with the tips of his fingers. He doesn’t make a big deal of your clinginess, not even when you insist on holding his hand the entire time.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures softly, squeezing your fingers. “Even if you fall asleep like this.”

When you rest your head on his shoulder, he shifts just enough to make it comfortable for you, then stays perfectly still. His other hand starts tracing slow, soothing circles along your back, not to tease, not to distract, just to be there.

Harua doesn’t say much. He doesn’t have to. It’s in the way he stays close, the way he patiently listens when you groggily ramble, the way he looks at you like you’re the most important thing in the world, even with tissues stuffed up your sleeve and your voice two octaves lower than usual.

“You can be as clingy as you want,” he whispers when your fingers twitch around his. “I don’t mind. I… like being needed.”

You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat under your ear and the faint hum of him quietly singing something soft, just for you.

TAKI :

You’re wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, nose red and stuffy, eyes droopy from a fever that refuses to break. Everything aches, your head, your throat, your muscles, and worst of all, you miss Taki. He’s your comfort. Your warm hoodie in winter. Your favorite song. Your peace.

So you do what any reasonable, clingy, miserable person would do: you send him a pitiful voice memo that’s mostly sniffles and his name said like a whimper.

Not even twenty minutes later, the doorbell rings. You peek out from your cocoon of tissues and wool to see Taki, cheeks flushed from the cold, carrying a bag way too big for someone his size. “Emergency delivery!” he says cheerfully, flashing you the brightest smile he can manage, even though he clearly clocked how awful you look.

He doesn’t mind. Not even a little.

“You poor thing,” he coos, toeing off his shoes before making a beeline to the couch. “You look like a baby duck who got caught in the rain.”

You groan, flopping over, already reaching for him. “C’mere.”

Taki laughs softly and slides right in next to you without hesitation, kicking off his jacket and letting you climb into his lap, head on his shoulder, arms curled around him. He shifts carefully so you’re tucked just right, like he’s done this a hundred times before. Like it’s natural.

“You can cling all you want,” he whispers, nose brushing your temple. “I like it. Makes me feel important.”

While you mumble something incomprehensible into his chest, he hums a little song, one he made up on the spot, just to lull you into comfort. His fingers stroke gently through your hair, careful not to tug, and when he notices you shivering, he tightens the blanket around both of you like he’s the protector of your tiny, warm world.

He keeps talking in that low, sweet voice of his, saying the most random, comforting things, about a dog he saw on the way over, how he almost slipped on the ice, how he thinks you’d look really cute in matching pajamas with him. “Next time I’ll bring some. Fluffy ones. Blue, maybe? Or should we go pink?”

You’re too sick to answer, but you smile anyway.

And when you start to drift off, still clinging to him like a lifeline, he whispers one last thing before pressing a kiss to your hair:

“You always take care of me, even when you don’t know it. So let me do it for you now, okay?”

MAKI :

You’re usually the one bouncing around with him, matching his jokes, nudging his side, keeping up with his endless energy. But today… you’re a puddle on the couch. Blankets up to your chin, cheeks flushed with fever, and your voice reduced to a pathetic croak. You want tea, soup, and above all, Maki.

You shoot him a sleepy text: “come here :( I’m sick and sad.”

And like magic, he appears.

He bursts into the room still catching his breath, cheeks pink from rushing over. “You should've told me you were sick sooner!” he exclaims, already dropping his bag and making a beeline for you.

You sit up with a pout, arms stretched out in a silent plea. “C’mere. Please.”

“Okay, okay, I’m here,” he chuckles, instantly softening as he kneels beside you. His hands are warm and surprisingly steady as they brush your hair back. “You look like a tired little dumpling. Still cute, though.”

Normally he’s the hyper one, cracking jokes and bouncing around, but right now? He slows everything down. He tucks himself beside you, gently adjusting your blanket, and lets you lean into him as if he’s your pillow. You’re clingy, hugging his waist, burying your face in his hoodie, and Maki melts.

He rests his chin on top of your head and whispers, “You can be clingy all day. I don’t mind. I like it when you need me.”

He gets up only to grab a warm drink, tucking it carefully into your hands before crawling right back under the blanket. And when you try to apologize for being gross or needy, he just laughs. “You think a little snot is gonna scare me away? Have you seen my morning hair?”

Later, when you’re half-asleep in his arms, he gently hums a random tune, something soft and off-key, but full of heart. His hand rubs slow circles on your back while he mumbles, “I hate seeing you like this… but I love being the one you call.”

And before you slip fully into sleep, he quietly adds, “I’ll take care of you every time. Don’t even think twice.”

Word count : 3526 | serapharua, 2025.

[creativewritersposts]

https://www.tumblr.com/creativewritersposts/779475361008369664/blurb-week

Wait can you write the board game one with Jack except you’re actually dating Quinn and it’s just fluffy cause Quinn loves seeing you get along with his family during game nights

it took me way too long I'm sorry!!

"Okay guys it's game night!", Jack walks into the living room with his favorite board game, excited to spend time with his family. He loves rummy cube and can't wait to win all the time.

"Oh i love this game!", you smirk as you can see the cover of it.

"Better be prepared to lose", he teases you with his gaze fixed on his first tiles.

Quinn next to you have to hide his smile, you're playing rummy cube every month in his apartment and he knows you're a little genius at this game.

"Quinn why are you smiling?", Luke asks confused, didn't listen on your latest conversation.

"Nothing", Quinn is leaning his left arm around your chair, feeling comfortable.

"Thank god I'm in my girlfriends team", he whispers to himself. After a few hours you won almost every round, just losing once against Ellen.

"You're finally cooked now", Jack grins, ready to finish his first round this night, but before he could place his last tile on the table, you're defending your victory of wins and cought him a step before. "Ha!", you scream out, kissing Quinn with a quick, happy jumping.

"You're cheating!", Jack argues playfully pissed, he can't understand why he lost every damn game.

"Maybe next time, Jack", you hug the second oldest hughes brother because it's almost midnight and everybody is getting tired.

"Good game", Jim and Ellen gratulate you, Luke softly taps your shoulder with a disappointed face expression but tries to be a good loser.

"I'm so proud of you", Quinn kisses your forehead, his thumb is touching your cheekbone.

He's just happy you're come along with everybody in his family.

"Good night, y'all", you're getting tired and need to yawn.

"I want a revenge tomorrow!", Jack's words are resounding through the living room. You know he won't stop competing until he wins.

[dilfdarling]

Can I request a John Walker anything with enemies to lovers. That blonde himbo has not left my mind in weeks 🥲🫡

-🌟anon

RAAAHH YES YOU CAN🌟ANON!! I literally wrote all this and realized you did not specify smut but like... here we are... so minors dni! If this isn't to your liking, feel free to re-request! ANYWAY!! LET'S DIVE IN!

Restraint

John Walker x Enhanced Fem!Reader

Summary: Yelena had found you, insisting you join the team. John thought of you as a liability, someone with no control. Unfortunately, you are put into a position where you have to prove you have more control than John is aware of.

Warnings: EXPLICIT! 18+! MINORS DNI! descriptions of murder and blood. John is unable to read a room. reader has pretty strong powers and a sad back story. no use of y/n. praise, begging, finger sucking, mild guided masturbation, vaginal fingering, loss of virginity, inexperienced reader, mentions of pregnancy, creampie.

Word Count: 10.6k (GULPS)

A/N: This one got away from me, fast. Took me like three days to finish this thing. I wanted to add much more, but I felt like it was too long already, im sorry. this is my first time writing enemies to lovers I think!! also, i'm very proud of the smut in this, im getting way more comfortable writing it! 18+ divider by @/cafekitsune, heart divider by @/enchanthings-a

You were a new addition to the team. Extremely new. Yelena had found you and wanted to take you under her wing. No one seemed to have any problems with you. Valentina had even thought you were an amazing addition. Everyone loved you, except Walker.

You were playing on your phone, sitting with Bob, when Bucky’s voice in the room over caught your attention.

“Walker,” Bucky threatened, the door behind closing. They just walked in. You froze and paused your game. “I’m going to have to ask you to shut the fuck up. I will not be asking again.”

“All I’m saying—” John paused. “Look,” You heard his hand hit the table. “She may be more of a liability than anything.”

Your face dropped. He had to be talking about you. You put your phone down and turned towards the room. Bob caught this. His hand nudged you and you looked back at him. He noticed something was wrong immediately.

“What’s wrong?” Bob tilted his head, and you looked back towards the room.

You remembered not everyone has your hearing. “They were talking about me.” You whispered. Your bottom lip poked out and Bob seemed confused.

“Who?”

“Walker and Bucky.”

Bob nodded. He understood immediately.

You heard Bucky speaking. “I said to fucking drop it. She’s good. She’s not going anywhere.” His voice was low, but not low enough.

“She needs more training.” John stated it so obviously. “She is going to hurt herself or kill someone else.”

Your jaw clenched. You let out a low guttural noise. Bob tensed. You stood from your spot on the couch and the lights in the room you were in began to flicker.

“Anyway, where did Yelena find her?”

You slammed into the door, swinging it open, not realizing Bob was right behind you. The light above you began to flash harshly. Your eyes hit John and rage consumed you. “Wouldn’t you like to know, you fucking—”

Bucky was quick to put himself between the both of you. John’s eyes widened. He seemed to be remembering that you had enhanced hearing.

“Whoa,” He put his hands up, trying to save himself from becoming collateral damage. “I was just telling Bucky—”

“That I’m some ticking time bomb?” The light above you blew, the light bulb shattering. “That I will kill someone.” You wanted it to be him. Right then and there. Bob’s hand gently touched your shoulder and at that moment, he was keeping you from launching yourself past Bucky and into John.

“I think I’ve proven my point.” He is not even looking at you. Only Bucky. Your eyes widened and your shoulders dropped. He did not even care to look at you. Your pupils dilated and your breathing hitched. You wanted to wreck him. Bucky did not move from in front of you and turned back towards you. He looked back at Bob and motioned for him to leave. He refrained from arguing and left the room.

“Look at me.” Bucky gripped your shoulders tightly. Your eyes were looking past Bucky and right at John. Walker looked at you briefly and turned around and began to leave. Your hand flexed and as soon as he went to open the door, it slammed right in his face. You let out a low growl, still focused on John. “I’m not fucking around!” Bucky shook you, trying to snap you out of it. “Focus on me!” Bucky turned back to John, who was fidgeting with the door. “Leave!”

“I can’t!” John yelled back.

Your head tilted to the side and your fingers twitched. John’s shoulder slammed into the door. It did not budge. Your eyes narrowed, pupils blowing wide. Your jaw clenched and the thought of launching John out of the nearest window crossed your mind. You decided that would not look good. So, fucking with him would be do, for now.

A wicked smirk pulled at your lips, and you released the door, as soon as his shoulder slammed into it again, sending him flying out of the room you were all in.

“What the fuck!?” Bucky groaned.

John hit the ground and turned back to look at you. His eyes hit yours and they narrowed. He stood up and seemed to be thinking about physically removing Bucky and taking care of you himself.

“Don’t do it!” Bucky pointed at John.

“No,” Your eyes were black by now, “do it.” You smiled widely at him, your teeth bared. “Make my fucking night.”

The door behind you opened and you were snatched back through the doorway. You were slammed into the ground, and you blinked a couple times, eyes returning to normal. Yelena sat on top of you, straddling you, holding you down. You were not about to move.

You may have had enhanced durability, but you did not have the strength she did, leaving you laying under her.

“What are you doing?” She was inches from your face. She tilted her head, and she waited for your answer. You sucked in air and scrunched your nose. Bucky and John stood behind Yelena, also waiting to hear what you had to say. You peeked back, seeing Bob standing there, hands clasped, worry filled.

You shrugged, “I was… I was mad.” You admitted. You swallowed hard and froze. “John—” You snapped, looking over at him. He did not flinch, his eyes narrowed. “—is acting like I shouldn’t be here. I was just mad.”

Yelena let some weight off of you but still did not release you. She nodded and looked back at John. “We are a team.” She was speaking to the both of you. “We do not attack each other. Or talk about each other behind the others’ backs.”

You nodded and looked back towards John. His eyes were stuck on you. You wanted to throw Yelena to the side and throttle him. Your jaw clenched again, and Yelena removed herself from you. As you stood up, Yelena gently grabbed your arm and began to guide you towards the other side of the room, towards the door. She was escorting you to your room.

You felt like a child.

You had not seen John in two days. You were thankful. But you were also sure that Yelena was trying to keep you two apart. At least for now.

You walked towards the main door of the tower. You needed out. Just for a little bit. As you reached the large doors, and you hand grabbed the handle, you heard it. Someone whispering your name. You groaned, head rolling back when you recognized the voice.

You turned around and saw Valentina walking towards you. She was smirking. Your hand dropped from the door, and you crossed your arms at her.

“I knew you would hear me,” She winked at you. “You headed out for lunch?” She questioned you.

You pulled a wad of ones from your pocket, “More like a snack.” You deadpanned.

“Well,” She gave you a genuine smile, “I’ll treat you to lunch!”

You were undeniably hungry, but you were also weary of Valentina. You sighed. You opened the door for her. “Okay.”

“Good choice.” She walked out and you wandered behind her. She led you down the streets of New York. She immediately noticed you flinching when a car horn blared. “New around here?” She questioned you.

“Uh,” You faltered. “I’m new everywhere.”

She turned and handed you some earpieces. You narrowed your eyes. You had always been good at reading people, ever since becoming your own person. But Valentina was proving to be exceptionally hard to read. “Here.” She placed them in your hands. “They’re noise cancelling. I’m sure if you put them in it’ll cancel some noise and you’ll still be able to hear me.”

You placed them in your ears and noticed some noises around you become duller.

“Can you hear me?” She tilted her head at you. You nodded. “Good.” She continued down the sidewalk and eventually the both of you came across a little cafe. She walked in and you scuttled in behind her. “What do you like?” You shrugged.

“Never had coffee.” You admitted.

“Oh, you poor thing.” She patted you on the shoulder, but not like she wanted to. “I’ll get you what I get. And for food?” She clicked her tongue, waiting for your response.

“I’ll just get that, uh,” You looked at the menu, “muffin.” You smiled awkwardly at the person behind the counter.

He gave you a concerned look and began to get your order ready. Valentina paid and walked over to a table. You followed closely behind her. She sat down, motioning for you to sit across from her, and you did.

“You’re the only one that remembers.” You looked at Valentina. She gave you a confused look. “That I have enhanced hearing.”

“Oh,” She nodded, “yeah, I like to get to know my team.”

You froze up. Completely. You swallowed hard and blinked. “What do you know about me?”

“Hm,” She tapped her chin. “That you are some successful lab experiment. You blew up the lab you were in and escaped.” She shrugged. “Just the known stuff.” You twitched. The light above you flickered. Valentina looked up and smirked. “Hey,” She whispered. “No need to do all that. I’m on your side after all.”

You straightened up and tensed. You inhaled slowly and your eyes did not move from Valentina. “Okay.” You nodded. “What did you want to bring me to lunch for?” Your jaw clenched and quickly relaxed. “You obviously have an ulterior motive.”

Valentina leaned in. “It’s about John Walker.”

You almost came unglued. “What!?” You refrained from creating a city-wide power outage. You leaned in closer to Valentina and scowled. “Why?” You were white knuckling the table. She looked down at your hands and back up to you.

“Well, you haven’t been on a mission yet, have you?” Her tone was belittling. You wanted to throw the table; it was the only thing keeping you from her. “I think John would do wonderfully at breaking you in.”

“Breaking me— Breaking me in!?” Your voice was strained. “He hates my fucking guts.”

“And you hate his.”

Your pupils blew wide. Your head tilted and your hands released from the table.

“Do not do anything rash, dearie.” She laughed, low and soft. “You can’t blow this place up and get away with it.”

She had a point.

Through gritted teeth, you asked her the most important question. “When do we leave?”

“Tonight.”

You got up from your seat and began to make your exit from the building.

“You haven’t even tried coffee!” Valentina shouted at you. You tried your best to ignore her.

Yelena stood beside you. Her hand rested on your shoulder; she was trying to be comforting.

“It’ll be okay.” She whispered to you.

Your eyes were burning a hole into the aircraft’s interior. You did not even look at her, “Okay?” Your head snapped towards her. “I’m going on my first official mission and it’s with him!” You pointed at John. “I wanted it to be you.” You slumped down in your seat, crossing your arms.

John laughed. “You think this is an inconvenience for you?” He barked back. “I’m not enjoying this either!” He shook his head. “I’m just hoping you don’t get mad and crash this quinjet!”

Your body went limp. You kept from pouting. Instead, you stood up from your seat. “I have more control than you think, Walker.” You narrowed your eyes. “There are good people here, I wouldn’t want them dead.”

“Sit down.” Yelena pulled you towards the seat.

You yanked away from her. “No.” You walked towards the doors of the quinjet and waited. “We’re arriving soon.”

John groaned. He did not say anything. He did not have to. You could read his face from a mile away. You huffed and waited to reach your drop location.

Yelena stood up and handed you and John an earpiece. You looked at it and then at her. John placed his in his ear and you faltered. You cocked a brow at Yelena.

“Do I need this?”

“Why else would she give you one?” John quipped.

“Shut up.” Yelena snapped at him. “Yes. You do. It’ll keep you connected to me if shit goes sideways.” She reassured you.

You nodded and fixed the earpiece. Soon the jet reached its landing spot and John, and you were off. Both of you exited the jet in silence. Once you told Yelena bye, you were sure the whole mission was going to be done in silence.

John hopped into the driver's seat of the vehicle that was taking you to your final destination. You slid into the passenger seat and sighed.

“How much information did Valentina give you?” John’s voice was level, almost emotionless.

Your brows knitted together. “Why?” Your head tilted. “I mean, she told me we were handling a rogue scientist. Easy enough, right?” You let out a nervous laugh.

“You’re anxious about it.”

“Yeah, Walker,” You nodded, “I am.” You tensed, “I grew up in a lab. I don’t like scientists too much.”

John quit talking. He began to drive to the location.

“What did she tell you?” You questioned him.

“The same thing. Said she didn’t have too much information.” He seemed uneasy in his seat. “Other than the scientist is pretty fucked, I know about as much as you do.”

You nodded. That helped ease none of your nerves. You picked at your cuticles as John drove. The two of you reached some long, winding roads and eventually, John drove past the coordinates you were given. You looked at him and motioned back.

“You drove past it, you fu—”

“Did you see those?” He looked back over his shoulder.

“No?” You shook your head. “I saw you drive past our target’s location!”

John sighed. He slowed down and stopped on the side of the road. “There were cameras. Our target must be expecting something.” His hands gripped the wheel, and he looked at you, his eyes boring into your own. “Think you’d be able to cut them off?” His tone…

You sneered. “Of course.” You sat back in your seat. “Go back. I’ve got this.”

John shook his head. He turned around and began to drive back towards the target’s driveway. You began to focus, pay attention. You saw a large, abandoned building back past a large gate. And in front of that gate were cameras. Your fingers twitched and the camera’s popped, easily and quickly exploding.

Without John having to ask, you began to pry the large metal gates apart and John drove through the new opening. As he pulled in, you shut the gates behind you and John parked the car. You gave him a look as he unbuckled. “Gotta walk from here.” You looked ahead at the distance you would be walking and groaned.

You unbuckled and shuffled out of the car. You quietly shut the door and began to drag your feet behind John. You were both alert. More alert than ever. John’s hand was on his gun, ready to shoot anything that got in his way, and you were ready to launch anything that came towards you out of orbit.

The both of you snuck towards the abandoned looking building. And before long, you realized it was in fact not abandoned at all. A loud alarm began to blare, and you flinched. You covered your ears and stumbled forward.

John’s hand grabbed you, keeping you from falling over. His grip was harsh. “No time for that,” He looked around after steadying you.

“Sorry, Walker,” You hissed, “That sound is frying my eardrums.” You focused on the building. Hoping to see something, anything related to that noise that you could destroy.

A drone whirred around you. Somewhere. You perked up, one of your hands dropping from your ear and you looked around. “Hear that?” You looked at John. He shook his head. “Something is here.” Your eyes hit a small drone, and you raised your hand. Your fingers curled into your palm and the drone went flying, before you blew into pieces.

As soon as it exploded, the alarm stopped. You dropped your other hand and looked around some more. Your brows furrowed and you swallowed hard.

“No way was that drone controlling the alarm.”

“No.” You shook your head. “They know we’re here.”

You and John started towards the building again. Once you reached it, John raised his gun, ready to shoot on sight. You pushed the door, it was unlocked. They’re expecting us… That was the only thought running through your head. John insisted on walking ahead of you, and for once you did not argue.

The first floor of the building was normal. But once you reached the second floor, memories started to come back. Broken vials were littered across the tile. The place seemed to have been abandoned a long time ago. And yet, someone was there, operating everything.

You looked around, for clues, for signs of any other life; you looked for anything. Your skin was crawling, and the scent of medicines and latex filled your nose. You were going to vomit. You inhaled sharply and bumped into Walker. You did not realize just how close you were to him.

“Are you alright?” He whispered. He sounded… concerned. For once in your life, he sounded worried. And seemingly not for his own safety.

“I don’t—”

No time to answer. A ding rang through the floor, and the elevator at the hallway behind the both of you began to open. You turned slowly, much slower than John had turned.

The scientist, before you got turned around completely, clicked their tongue. Your head fully turned, and your eyes hit them. Your eyes widened and you almost screamed. Your hand instinctively grabbed John’s bicep. He was pointing his gun, waiting for the okay to shoot.

Static came through your earpiece. Yelena was trying to speak. Something was wrong. She sounded concerned, but nothing she said was coming through.

“Dr. Wren…” You were gripping John tightly now. Your fingers clung to him; he was keeping you level. Somehow.

“Oh, dear,” Wren shook her head, “you remembered me?” She stepped from the elevator and began to walk towards you, you were frozen. “I’m truly flattered.” She touched her palm to her chest and her head dropped slightly.

“How are you alive?” Your voice was soft, frail.

John looked between the two of you. “Do not take another step.” John snapped. His finger was on the trigger.

“Hm,” Wren eyed John up and down, “A super soldier?” Her eyes hit you again, “What on earth are you doing these days? If you were perfect, you wouldn’t even need a team. Much less… Him.”

You swallowed hard. “Dr. Wren.” You were shaking at that point. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you!” She clapped her hands together.

John was quick to pull the trigger as soon the words left her mouth. The bullet never came out. Your body went limp, and time seemed to stand still. The gun was being pulled from John’s hands and in seconds, it ended up in hers. She examined it.

“This is nice. Too bad you won’t need it anymore.”

You were stunned. John, however, was not. He took off towards Wren. Wren’s other hand rose, and John was sent flying backwards, into the wall. She held him there; he was stuck in her mental grip. She pointed the gun at you. John let out a yell, you could not tell if he was in pain, or if he was angry. Potentially both.

With John being held hostage in the corner, you were stuck facing your demons and Dr. Wren by yourself.

Dr. Wren sighed. “I’m not going to kill you.” She reassured you. It was not reassuring at all. “I have bigger plans, you know. Well, had. You sort of blew them up.” She growled the last part out. “But I restarted them. Here. I knew I’d be put on someone’s radar. The chance of you finding me? Higher than you could ever imagine. And look at us, together again.”

“I could kill you.” The words fumbled out of your mouth.

Dr. Wren waved the gun around. “Could. You aren't capable of that. Look at you! You’re shaking.” She cooed at you. “You don’t even realize how strong you are… I underwent the tests you had gone through. I remade every serum, every single thing we put into you, I put into me.” She smiled

“Kill her!” John screamed from the corner.

“Don’t listen to him.” She pointed the gun at John. “I’ll shoot him quicker than you could even think about rearranging the molecules in my body.”

You were in a battle with yourself. If you blew that place up, John would potentially go down with it. You hated John, but you did not want him dead by your hand.

“What do you want?”

“Oh,” She seemed shocked. “That was easy. You.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I can’t do that again!” You began to raise your voice.

Wren sneered. The gun went off. Your head snapped towards John and the bullet hit his stomach. He howled in pain. Something in you snapped. You looked back at Wren. Your hands tensed and the lights above you flickered on. They became bright, so bright you could barely see, before blowing completely out. As soon as the bulbs blew, the windows around you shattered.

She pointed the gun at you. “I created you,” She smiled so sweetly, “I can do it again. I’d hate to.” Her finger was on the trigger. “But I will.”

Your pupils blew wide; the room began to rip apart around you. Tears filled your eyes as you looked over at John. You pushed desks and tables his way, keeping him safe from any debris that could hit him. You pressed the button on your earpiece, hoping everyone would hear you. “I’m sorry.” You locked onto Wren. “For everything I’m about to do.” You ripped your earpiece out.

Your hand shot up and you removed the gun from Wren’s grasp. It landed in yours. You launched it out the window and looked back at the doctor, who was trying to control everything flying towards her. You picked up the small pieces of glass surrounding the two of you and angled them at her.

“Wren.” You were numb. “You will not be hurting me, or anyone else. Not again.” Your fingers curled into your palm, and you shot the glass towards her. Screams of agony escaped her. You hummed, “Must have forgotten that durability, huh?”

The building was starting to crumble around the both of you. You did not notice, and Wren did not care. She put her hand up and tried her best to step you from approaching. You, instead, put your arms out, locking her in her spot. As soon as you reached her, your head tilted. She began to beg.

“This isn’t you!” She screamed. “Please, I raised you! I raised you—”

“This is me…” You smirked. “You raised me to be this way. Through hours of ‘training’ and ‘testing’. I promise, this is exactly what you wanted.”

“Please!” You reached her. “It will kill him!” She pointed towards John. “You’re killing him.”

Suddenly, everything stopped. Everything fell down. Your eyes darkened. Blood dripped from her face, glass covering her exposed skin. “Okay…” You nodded. “He doesn’t have to die…” You looked at John, and then back to Wren. “But you do.”

Her jaw dropped. You latched onto her. Your hands grabbed her hair, and you slammed her into the ground. You released her hair and began to slam your fists into her face. You were relentless. Everything was numb. Suddenly you could not hear her screaming, you could not hear John groaning. You could only hear your thoughts.

I was raised for this.

She deserves this.

It had to be me…

As you wailed on Wren, slamming her into the tile floor, you were certain nothing was going to stop you. You did not have super strength, but you did have adrenaline. Pure adrenaline. You did not release Wren, not once. You punched, clawed, and slammed her into the floor. Blood covered you. Wren’s blood. It covered your hands and splattered onto your face and clothes.

What a sight to behold. You ripping the woman who had built you up and pulled you apart to pieces.

The light was long gone from her eyes by the time you were being pulled from her body. You could hear your name being spoken, screamed out over and over again. A large arm finally wrapped around your abdomen, and you were torn from the body. You almost lost your mind even more.

“No!” You screamed, trying to scurry back to her body. The grip on you would have been bruising to any normal person. “I have to kill her!” You were sent entirely over the edge.

“She’s dead.” Alexei’s voice was booming in your ear. “She’s dead!”

You snapped out of it, your eyes focusing on the scene before you. You realized she was in fact dead. You had killed her. You blinked a few times, going limp in Alexei’s arm. Your head snapped from Wren’s body and back to John’s. Yelena and Bucky had removed all of the debris you had placed around him, and you struggled to get out Alexei’s grip.

“Let me go!” You were frantic. “Please! I have to check on him!”

Alexei released you and you sprinted towards John. He lied on the ground, blood covering his abdomen. Yelena and Bucky moved to pick him up.

“Do we have a medic? Anyone?” You asked. Yelena shook her head. “The bullet’s still in there!” You started to panic.

“We’ll get him help.”

“Lay him back down.” You demanded.

“We aren’t leaving him to die.” Yelena deadpanned.

“No!” You shook your head. “I can get it out!” You pointed to his wound. John looked like he wanted to protest. “I can get it out…” You locked eyes with him. “Please.”

Yelena and Bucky lied John down on one of the tables you had thrown around the room earlier and you looked over John's wound. Your hand was placed over it. You inhaled sharply and shut your eyes tight.

“Hey!” John sounded frightened. “Don’t you need to see?”

You did not respond. You, instead, raised your hand slightly above the wound. “This is going to hurt.” Your fingers curled into your palm and as soon as John started screaming you knew it was working. You pulled the few pieces of bullet that were in him out and adrenaline was wearing thin. Your head hit John’s chest as soon as you were done and before you could catch yourself, you fell to the floor, passing out.

The sound of whispering and beeping woke you up. Your eyes squinted open, and you rolled onto your side. You saw some monitor and heard Yelena to the other side of you. You lied there for a moment. Until you heard John’s voice.

“I think she’s awake.”

You sat straight up and looked over at them. You were glad he was alive. You remembered he had been shot, and you had helped him. You stared and stared at John and Yelena as you remembered what had happened before you passed out.

“You’re okay now.” Yelena reassured you.

“And because of you, I’m okay too.” John’s inability to read the room never stopped amazing you.

Your eyes hit him and narrowed. Images of how antsy he was before getting to the scientist’s lab played in your mind. You snarled. John leaned back, eyes full of confusion. “Did you know!?” Your voice was level, but full of venom.

John put his hands up. “Know what?” He looked at Yelena and back at you.

Yelena stood up and put herself between the two beds. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and inhaled sharply through your nose. “You were acting… Weird. Before we got to Wren. You were all nervous looking! Did you know I was walking into Wren’s lab?” Hot, angry tears pricked your eyes.

John shook his head. “I can assure you, I did not know. Like I said, all I knew was that we had to handle some rogue scientist. If I had known, it was someone that had to do with you…” He trailed off. You wanted to relax, but you could not. “I would have gotten someone else to come with me.”

Your shoulders slumped. Your head hung low, eyes looking at the ground. You sighed and then something else clicked.

Valentina.

You ripped everything connected to you right off and rushed from the room. As you hurried down the halls you knew exactly where you could find her. The doors opened before you even got to them, and you were so caught up in your own mind, you did not even realize John and Yelena were behind you.

You ran towards the bar of the tower and the door swung open. You did not have time to walk down the stairs. Instead, you leaped over them and hit the ground with a thud, landing on your feet in a crouching position. You turned and found Valentina, standing at the bar, drink in hand. Your head dropped, and your eyes looked through your lashes, right at her. Valentina turned towards you and smiled.

“You knew!” You shouted at her. The lights above you began to buzz. Valentina looked up at them and back at you. Valentina placed her glass down and you raised your hand. Yelena and John ran down the stairs, a loud and stern ‘no’ coming from Yelena’s mouth. Valentina did not flinch. Your fingers curled inwards and the glass beside her shattered, her drink exploding and getting all over her.

Valentina rolled her eyes, “Really?” She looked down at her outfit. “You ruined my drink and my outfit.”

“I’m sure there’s a dry cleaner around here who could handle that.” You growl at her. Yelena seemed relieved you did not blow Valentina out of the building. Or worse, blow her to pieces. “Why the fuck would you send me to—”

“To Wren?” She finished your sentence. The hair stood up on the back of your neck. The lights started buzzing louder, growing a little brighter. “Well, I think that ended well for everyone!” Valentina clapped her hands.

“John almost died!” You spit out at her.

Valentina placed her hand on her chest. “I thought you hated his guts.” She pouted at you, feigning care. “Anyway,” She walked behind the bar and waved her hand around, “you faced your past, and you saved Walker’s life.”

“Valentina.” Your eyes grew dark, and suddenly the buzzing quit. John and Yelena were preparing to pull you out of the room. Your fists balled tight, and you sneered at her. “Do not pull a stunt like that again.” Your voice was stern. A warning.

You turned away and made a swift exit. Leaving the opposite way, you came in. John and Yelena let you walk off. You inhaled sharply, and realized you needed some fresh air. You looked down at your pajamas someone had changed you into while you were out and immediately thought ‘fuck it’ and wandered towards the first floor of the tower.

As you made your way out of the building you thought about Wren. You leaned against the wall of the tower and images of her body lying in front of you were burned into your brain. You placed your head in your hands and slid down the building. You were curled into yourself. You wanted to be as numb as you were when you murdered Wren. But you felt everything. Guilt, regret, worry, and most importantly fear.

Heavy footsteps came from outside the building. You knew they were way too heavy to be Yelena’s and not heavy enough to be Alexei’s. You groaned, and without looking up, began to talk. “Bucky, I’m not in the mood.”

“Not Bucky.” John stopped right beside you. He leaned against the tower, but he did not lower himself to your level. Instead, he stood above you. Your eyes peeked up at him and your hands fell to your sides. You swallowed hard. “I wanted to tell you—”

You immediately interrupted him. “That I truly am some bomb, ready to blow at any second.” You were glaring through your lashes up at him.

John sighed. He sat beside you and shook his head. “No.” As soon your eyes softened John looked away, at passing traffic, and then back to you. “I wanted to thank you.” He looked uncomfortable. About as uncomfortable as you felt in your own head. “And that,” He sighed, “you have more control than I thought. I mean, you could have, I don’t know—”

“Exploded Valentina with my mind.” You were so serious.

“Yeah.” John shifted. “That.” He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. “You showed restraint. I know how hard that is to do.” John grimaced slightly, at himself you assumed. There was a pause between the two of you, uneasy silence. You looked away from John and at the concrete. “Do you hate my guts?”

Your stomach flipped. You looked back at him and pulled your legs tighter to your chest. “I don’t know— Uh, I thought you hated mine, Walker.”

“I never hated you.” John admitted. “I thought you weren’t trained enough to be on the team. You act pretty rash—”

“You don’t?” You did not raise your voice, to John’s surprise. “I thought I hated you.” You were growing even more aware of your surroundings. “It’s like you never remember I can hear every fucking thing! It sucks, John! Hearing someone that is supposed to be your teammate doubting you.” Tears started to come back. You used your sleeves to wipe your eyes, and you kept going. “I understand the concern, really. Apparently more of my situation is public than I could ever imagine. But you could have come to me!” Your voice shook.

John was unsure of how to console you.

“I was poked and prodded since I can literally remember! Wren was a monster, and I remember not even addressing her by her name the last, I don’t know, few years. But the first thirteen years I was there… She was my mother.” You choked out the words. “I killed her! And now,” You waved your hands around. “I really have to live with killing every single person— The only people I ever knew. That raised me.” You trailed off. John went to open his mouth. You were not done. “John,” You looked at him with glossy eyes. “I was raised to be a killer. I’ve proven twice now that I am one.” You fidgeted with your clothes. “What if I can’t change that?”

John made a face, briefly. But you caught it. Your bottom lip poked out and John was fighting with himself with how to help you. “If this whole team can become heroes, I’m sure you can too.” John moved to pat your shoulder, gently, uneasily.

You tensed the second his hand connected with you. John pulled back. He opened his mouth to apologize, and you were quick to interrupt him.

“I can feel it.” You looked down at the concrete, averting your gaze from. “Everything. It’s all so much.” You could not look at John. A weird feeling swirled in your gut. “I’m scared.” You finally looked up at him.

“That’s normal.”

He did not sound reassuring. At all.

“No.” You shook your head. “I was so… I don’t know! When Wren tried to kill you, I— I was worried about you. I covered you, so she couldn’t get to you. Obviously, I was late, ‘cause she shot you…” You bit the inside of your lip. “I didn’t want you to die. And now,” Your voice tapered off.

John let you continue.

“When I was moved from lab to lab, kept in underground facilities, I was never used to feelings. The only thing I felt was hatred. Hatred for my circumstances. Hatred for the woman that created me. She’s gone now. I’m out of those labs. And I feel weird.”

“That’s… Probably normal?” John was concerned.

You sighed. “I’m— Look, I’ll leave you alone now.” You stood up, looking around you. “Thanks for listening to me.”

John could have easily let you leave. You were sure he wanted you to leave. You walked past him and before you were out of his reach, he grabbed your wrist. Just enough to let you leave if you wanted. But enough to tell you, you did not need to leave.

John stood up and released your wrist. His jaw clenched and his eyes met yours once again. You froze. That funny feeling returned. And then you heard it. Over the cars. Over the bustle of the city. A constant thudding. Coming from John. His heart was pounding against his ribs.

“Can we start over?”

You smiled at him. “Yeah. We can.” You looked over John’s shoulder and back at the tower. “Can we go back inside?”

He nodded. The both of you entered the tower, you trailed behind John. You made your way towards the elevator and as soon as he hit the button and the elevator dinged, you inhaled. “You know, you’re not too bad, Wa—” You stopped yourself. “John.”

John stepped into the elevator and smiled; you stepped in behind him. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

“You should learn to drive!” Alexei shouted, excited. “I can teach you!”

You felt genuine fear when he said that. “No.” You shook your head. “I don’t think I should. I mean, I’ve been fine all these years without knowing.”

Alexei shrugged, “You were in facility.” He pointed it out like you were not aware of that. “But now, you are here. In New York!”

“Which is more of a reason to not drive.” Yelena walked in and sat on the couch beside you. You agreed with her. There was too much that could go wrong with driving.

“I think I’ll let the others stick to the driving.”

John, who was stretched out on the other end of the couch, “You really don’t know how?” You and Yelena gave him a look. “It makes sense,” He put his hands up. “I just never thought about it.”

“Well,” You shrugged, “I was always transported from labs, most of the time knocked out, by the guards. They did not trust me enough to take them out and teach me normal people things.”

“That was smart on their part.” Ava, sensing you were not upset, tried to joke. You gave her a confused look, and her smile faded. “You blew their lab up.”

You hit your head gently with your palm, a guttural noise escaping you. “You are so right! How could I forget?” The sarcasm lacing your voice was lost on no one. They were unsure if they should laugh or not. “Hm,” You tapped your chin, “that reminds me, I was supposed to try coffee the other day and didn’t.”

Alexei perked up. “Have you had vodka?” He questioned you, excited for your answer.

“No.” You admitted. “I wasn’t allowed to drink in the facility. Even after hitting the legal drinking age. I was told it could ruin the experiments.”

“Maybe we should not start with vodka.” John sat up and looked at you.

Your head tilted and your brows furrowed. But before you could say anything, Bucky spoke up. “Why are you so concerned now, John?”

You turned to Bucky and made a face. “It’s fine. We’re friends now.”

Everyone in the room made a face. Suddenly, everything was shifting. No one seemed to want to believe you two had made up. Your eyes wandered to John, and you saw him sitting uncomfortably in his seat, taking up much less room than he was earlier. You focused a little harder and then you heard it again. John’s heart, thumping in his chest. Your breath caught and his eyes met yours.

The way he was making you feel was not something you were familiar with. You quickly realized something. It was not hatred you felt. At first, it was. You were used to that feeling, it was normal. And it seemed to be reciprocated. But now, what you felt was hot, hotter than anything you’ve ever imagined. Hotter than any amount of hate you had ever bottled up.

Your stomach flipped and your heart was in your throat. You could feel it, beating like a drum against every part of your body. You were crawling in your skin, but not in any way you were used to. It was not a ‘I need out’ kind of crawling. It was more of a ‘what is this feeling?’. It was completely foreign, and you were not sure if you liked it.

You looked away from John and noticed Alexei had changed the subject. Everyone had moved on from you and John. Seemingly forgetting, or at least ignoring, what had just happened. John got up, and without a word, left the room.

You felt heavy in your seat. But everything in you screamed to follow him. You stood up and as soon as the door to the room closed, you were walking towards it. You heard Yelena say your name, and she asked if you were alright.

“Just need some air.” You did not even look back at her. “You know, I didn’t have any fresh air for years after all.”

She let you go. You pushed the door open and saw John walking down the hall, towards the elevator. You called out to him. “John!” You hurried down the hall. “Wait!”

John turned on his heels, shocked you followed him out. “Yeah?” He stood still, waiting for you to approach him. You reached him and noticed his heart beating even faster. You inhaled sharply and wrapped your arms around yourself. “Are you alright?”

You nodded. “I should be asking you that.” This caused John to furrow his brows at you. “Um,” You rubbed the back of your neck. “This is probably not appropriate,” you let out a laugh, “but I can hear it. You.” You stumbled on the words. “Your heartbeat…”

John froze. His breath hitched. He did not move a muscle. “What?” He looked stunned. “You can hear that?” He was stressed, his voice strained. You nodded. “Fuck!” He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up.

“If it makes you feel better,” You started, “mine’s doing the same thing.” John blinked at you. His eyes narrowed. As if you were lying, playing some trick on him. “I’m being serious. John, I don’t know what the hell I’m feeling. But it is so, so far from anything I’ve ever felt before. I’m used to anger and meanness. Feeling nothing or only feeling hatred.”

You could not look away from John, and he was not looking away either.

“But being here, everyone, most everyone, has shown me kindness. I did not have anything close to that. It’s weird. But bearable.” You rambled on, John nodded. “But, what’s unbearable?” You were growing hot thinking about it. Face on fire, body burning. “These new feelings festering, building up in my fucking gut. It’s uncomfortable and there’s no outlet! If I was mad at the labs, I could just throw shit around!”

“Please, don’t throw me around.” John was tense.

You pouted. “That’s the thing, John. I don’t want to throw you around. I think,” Your eyes softened, “I think I want to get a hold of you and never let you go.”

John wanted to be relieved. But he was not. He was more tense than ever. “You like me?” He questioned you.

You nodded. “I think so…” You swallowed hard. “I have quite literally never felt this way before.” You admitted. “I mean, there were some scientists I was fond of, but never so fond that I—” Your eyes squeezed shut.

John, unsure if what was happening was real, asked you to do something you were not sure you were capable of. “Use your words for me.”

His tone was level, his voice low. Your eyes shot open, meeting his. “I think I want to— Can I kiss you?”

John stepped closer, inches from you. “Is that all you want to do?” His eyes were dark. The light above you buzzed, and your eyes shut tight. The buzzing stopped and you opened your eyes back up. John looked up at the light and back to you. “We don’t have to do this.”

You bit the inside of your lip. “I want to.” Your heart was pounding. Just as fast as his was. It’s almost all you could hear. “I want you…”

John was in an internal battle. He punched the button on the elevator, almost too hard, and turned back to you. “My room?” He looked at you, ravenous. You nodded. You both stepped onto the elevator, and he hit his floor. Suddenly, all of his attention was directed towards you. You felt so small in that confined place. John’s hand moved to your hip and fire was set across your skin.

John leaned over you and your breath caught. “Have you ever kissed anyone?”

You gulped. “There was this scientist, a few years ago. He was new. Around my age. I don’t know, I was exploring things, but I only kissed him a few times. Before Wren had him, uh, removed. I didn’t like him though. Not like this.” John was on fire at those words. His hand gripped you a little tighter and he nodded, taking everything in. Your arms draped around his neck, and you asked him again, “Can I kiss you?”

John, without skipping a bit, leaned down closer to you, closing the distance between the both of you. You pressed your lips to his and he was quick to deepen the kiss. His tongue ran across your bottom lip, and you eagerly parted your lips for him. The elevator came to a halt as John’s tongue pressed into your mouth, but he did not move. Instead, he picked you up, wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Oh!” A voice you were not all too fond of rang in your ears. “Hm, seems like sending you two out on that mission brought you closer.” Valentina laughed.

John pulled away from you and looked at the floor number. “Are you getting on?” He looked down at Valentina. “Because we aren’t getting off for a few more floors—”

“Literally or figuratively?” Valentina looked between you two. “I’ll wait.” She put her hands up and stepped back. The elevator door shut again.

Your face was on fire. “You know she’s going to go tell everyone.”

“Does that bother you?” John sounded concerned.

“No.” You shook your head. “I hope she does.”

John smiled. He leaned in for another kiss, your back pressing harder against the wall of the elevator. You angled your head back and John began to kiss down your jaw, to your neck. Eventually, the elevator was at your floor. John let you down, grabbed your hand, and began to lead you down the hall, to his room. He opened his door, and you were in his room in record time.

He slammed the door, standing behind you. You looked around his room, almost forgetting what you were there to do. His back was to his door, and your back was to him, as you were being nosy. John cleared his throat, and you turned back to him. You mouthed an ‘oh’ and placed your hands behind your back. You pursed your lips, and it really hit. Everything began to settle. You were about to go further than kissing.

You were momentarily stunned. John picked up on that. He had become hyper-aware of whatever it was you were doing. He could tell you were uneasy. John let out a heavy breath and shifted his weight.

“As much as I would love to continue, I can tell something is wrong.”

“John… This is probably public knowledge at this point, but I’ve never had sex.” You watched as his hands tensed, fingers curling into his palms, and then he relaxed. “I couldn’t even really,” You paused. “I didn’t even really get to touch myself. Not a lot, anyway.” You felt embarrassed. Your body was burning hotter.

John nodded. “I must admit,” He did not move, his eyes staying on you, “I haven’t had sex in a while. With the divorce and everything… We can take it slow. If you want to. We don’t have to do this now.”

That was reassuring to hear. But you knew as soon as you left that room that would not help those feelings subside. You wanted him to kiss you, grab you, fuck you. You needed his touch. You had a hunch that would help you.

“I still want to do this.” You perked up, straightening your back. “We can go slow…” You slowly nodded at him, repeating his earlier words. You could see John relax. “I think I’d be more comfortable in bed though.”

He picked you up, easily, and began to carry you to his bedroom. “That is easy enough.” John tossed you onto the bed. You bounced and let out a strangled noise, shocked at how easily he did that. John stood at the end of the bed; you felt like prey. His fingers twitched and his eyes watched you like a hawk. You lied back and instinctively your legs opened, ever so slightly, waiting for him to fill that space.

That was not lost on John, he was growing uncomfortable in his pants, but he did not want to ruin you. Not yet. He inhaled sharply and his eyes closed, before reopening and looking dead at you. You pouted at him.

“John,” You whined, “I want you to touch me…”

“I know.” He adjusted himself. “I know…” He whispered that time. He wanted to touch you too. “Can you do something for me first?” His voice did not break once, but he looked like he was about to snap. You nodded, of course you would, and he continued. “I want you to touch yourself.” The baffled look on your face caused John to smile.

You shook your head, “I came here for you to touch me. I thought…” You mumbled that last part. “Why do I have to touch myself?” You were confused.

“I want to help you. I can tell you’re still nervous.” He stood still where he was. “The more relaxed you are, the better this will be. I will touch you,” that was a promise, “but, first, I want you to touch yourself. Make yourself come.”

You blinked up at him. You did not respond. Not with words. Instead, you took off your pants, leaving you in your underwear and t-shirt. You were used to being in nearly no clothes when in the lab. You had a gown, and during physical exams, sometimes you wore nothing. But this is different than any of those times. This was close; this was intimate.

“Really,” You stared back up at John, “I don’t really know what I’m doing. I mean, I know anatomy, but I don’t think I ever made myself come.” Your voice became smaller as you spoke, almost a whisper by the time you finished talking.

“I’ll guide you.”

“From over there?” You cocked a brow at him. He nodded. You groaned and gripped the cover under you. John began to tell you what he wanted you to do. His words were strained, his jaw clenched. He was holding himself back. Restraining himself.

He reassured you that you could keep your underwear on if you were more comfortable, which you ended up doing. He instructed you to touch yourself. Your hand pushed past your waistband, and you quickly found your clitoris.

“Rub circles around it,” John swallowed hard, “with your thumb.” You obliged. Before John could instruct you further, you took matters into your own hands. You did what you knew how to do. Your fingers pushed past your folds and into your entrance. John encouraged you to keep going, keep doing what you were doing. Your hips jerked upwards, and your eyes shut tight. The feeling was a lot, and you were overwhelmed almost immediately.

John watched you; he watched you struggle. He tried to give pointers, but his mind was becoming just as muddled as yours. Your hips moved slightly, you truly were trying to find anything that felt good. As you got close, you would lose it.

“Please,” You began to beg. “John…” You were almost crying out for him. “I’m sure you could do it better. You can make me feel good.”

John was on top of you almost instantly. You bounced against the bed and into him, before laying flush with the mattress once again. You were in awe at how fast he had moved. John’s hand rested on your bare thigh. His dark, blue eyes almost staring through you. Your breath caught in your throat, and you gulped down air.

“Please,” You whimpered, your lips almost touching his.

John pressed his lips to yours, kissing you fervently. His hand wandered from your thigh and to the heat between your legs. He traced you through your underwear, sending a shiver down your spine. Your back arched, pressing your chest against his. You cupped his face and whined into him, giving him time to slip his tongue into your mouth. He gently rubbed you through your panties. He really was taking it slow. It was driving you mad.

You bucked into his hand, and he got the hint. His hand pulled at the waistband and pulled your panties down. You lifted your hips, and he slid them off, tossing them across the room. You adjusted your legs again, opening them for him. John eagerly pushed a finger past your folds and into you. His thumb rested on your clit, rubbing soft circles against it. He was not as sloppy as you with his movements. They were thought out, he was experienced.

Your hands moved from cupping his face, to his back. You clawed at his suit; you needed it off of him. John began to kiss down your jaw, down your neck, and to your collarbone. He gently sucked and nipped at the skin. You let out a shaky sigh and your jaw clenched.

“Fuck,” You breathed out, your eyes screwing shut. “You’re so good—” You began to mumble, “Making me feel good.”

John moaned into your skin, his hips rutting into the bed. You shivered under him, imagining it being you he was thrusting into.

“I’m gonna put another finger in,” He bit at your collarbone, “is that okay?”

You relaxed under him, remembering he said it would be nicer if you were. You nodded, a soft ‘yes’ escaping past your lips. John then did what he said he was going to do. He stretched you with another finger. You whined, staying still for a moment, eyes shut tight. John pulled away from your collarbone and watched you closely. His fingers gently scissored inside of you.

“Breathe, baby,” John nuzzled into you, turning you into puddy, “you’re doing so well.”

John pulled back and watched you again. Butterflies filled your stomach as he finished his sentence. You exhaled slowly and looked up at John. You were holding onto him for dear life; you did not realize it until that moment. Your hips rolled slightly, and John began to move his fingers slowly in and out.

“Good girl,” He was reassuring. His thumb started to pick up pace as well.

Lightning was shooting through your body. Your legs tensed and your back was arching again. Your eyes shut and you tried to talk. Nothing was coming out. Until it did. “I think— I’m close.” Your breath hitched. John kept his pace steady, not even thinking of pulling away. His lips connected to your cheek, and he gave you a couple quick kisses.

A white, hot feeling built up in your stomach, and within seconds you were coming undone. John’s name fell from your mouth, softly. Sweetly. You were seeing stars. John pulled his hand from your pussy and moved back from you. You looked at him and watched as he sucked his fingers.

You wanted nothing more than for him to be back on top of you. Preferably undressed. “John, come on…” You pouted at him.

He popped his fingers out his mouth and leaned back down over you, “Oh, how rude of me, I forgot to see if you wanted to taste yourself.” You blinked up at him. “Do you want to pause for now?” His head tilted. “We can take a break if you want—”

You shook your head, “No.” You felt like you were losing your mind. “I want to feel you. I want you to, to—”

“To what?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

It seemed to not take a lot to make Walker lose it. He was getting undressed as the words left your lips. He was out of his suit in seconds. You were tense, almost as fast as he got out of his suit, you were tensed up again. You realized just how big John was. You pulled your legs up to you without thinking. You sat up and looked at John with wide eyes.

“Having second thoughts? You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

He was being so nice. So thoughtful. “I want to stay, but,” You had not realized until you were not breathing. You sucked in air, and continued, “I don’t want it to hurt.”

“I promise,” John got on the bed, “I’ll take care of you.” He gave you a soft smile, making you smile in return. “Just breathe.”

“Okay.” You tried to loosen up.

“If it becomes too much, or you want to stop, say so.” He placed his forehead to yours. An ‘of course’ fumbled out of your mouth and you sighed. You lied back down on the bed and John moved over you. He held himself up with his forearm and his free hand rested on your hips, before gently tracing patterns into it.

John pulled his hand back from your burning skin and positioned himself at your entrance and waited for an okay from you. You inhaled slowly and exhaled even slower. You gave him an okay, your hands resting on his back. John pushed the tip of his cock into you; you tried to stay relaxed. Your eyes screwed shut and John kept whispering reassuring words to you. That you were doing well, that you were so good.

John pushed further into you, ever so slightly. You whimpered, causing John to groan. He was holding himself back extremely well. You could tell he wanted to let loose. But that would frighten you. Scare you off. He did not want to scare you off.

John rested once he was in you completely. You were tight around him, and he was struggling. “You’re okay,” John whispered, his voice almost strained. “Fuck,” he hissed in your ear, “you feel good. So good.”

Your hips rolled once he said that, testing the water. Testing John. John tensed against you, letting out a low, primal growl. “Move,” You whispered, “please.”

John did exactly what you said. His hips gently rocked into yours and within no time you were accustomed to him. He kept a slow pace at first, making sure you were comfortable. John’s jaw clenched, “Holy shit,” He groaned, his eyes meeting yours. You were made for him; he was sure of it.

Your nails dug into his back dragging across his skin. Your hips rolled, chasing him every time he rocked back. You needed him, needed him to fill you up. You wanted to feel every inch of him.

“Faster.” Was the only word you could muster out. John hummed in confusion, almost as if he wanted you to say it again. “Please, move faster.”

John did not hesitate once he was sure you were good with it. His pace quickened, and once again he was never sloppy. He pulled your leg over his hip, and you eagerly put your other one up as well, pulling him closer to you. You moaned out for him, his name falling off your tongue. You were praising and pleading, and John was sent into a downward spiral.

“Say it again.” He begged. He was not demanding, he was pleading. His voice was airy, full of want.

“Fuck!” You yelled, “I’ve never felt so good,” You almost cried out. “John, I need—” You choked on your words, John’s pace faltering for a second. “I need you!”

“Need me to what?” He was not even close to being worn out. Neither were you; you were made to withstand most things. But everything was becoming even more overwhelming than before. You could hear every sound in the room, the bed shaking, the floorboards squeaking, and his skin hitting yours. Not to mention everything you felt. Your body was on fire, and so full, yet every time he pulled back from you, you were so empty and craving nothing more than his touch. He was all over you, and it was not enough and too much.

“I don’t know!” You whined, your body rolling into his. Your eyes shut tight, and your fingernails scraped up his back. “Shit! I just need you!”

John whimpered as soon as those words left your mouth. His hips jutted into yours and his pace was suddenly not so steady. He was holding you at a new angle now and frantically pumping in and out of you. You were crying out for him, only him. And he was a mess.

You were sure you would never see John in this state. Disheveled and needy. He needed you just as badly as you needed him. You had pulled him close, so close in fact, there was no space between the two of you.

“Keep going, please, I'm close—” You sobbed out, tears pricking your eyes. John, whose head was pressed into your neck, nodded. His pace, now sloppy and quick, did not slow. A knot formed in your stomach and your toes curled. Every one of your muscles began to tense and you sobbed out John’s name as you came.

“Are you— Are you on birth control,” The words came out through gritted teeth. You shook your head as you were coming down. “Shit,” He hissed, “Where should I—”

“Inside.”

The word fell out before you could think. You wanted all of him. John must not have thought about it either. Within seconds he was coming himself, filling you up. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, a bruising grip. He let out a whine as he came, and he was lying on top of you instantly. He held most of his weight on his forearm again, but he was limp this time. The weight was comforting.

His breathing was heavy, his eyes closed. You both rested a moment before he pulled out and rolled over beside you. He looked over at you and said your name, causing you to hum in response.

“Can you,” He paused, “can you get pregnant?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, they never discussed that with me. And I kind of can’t ask now.”

John snorted. “No you can’t.” His fingers traced over your stomach and you briefly wondered what he was thinking about. “We can worry about that in the morning. How about we get cleaned up?”

“That sounds nice.”

The both of you made your way to the bathroom and something struck you. You gasped. “Do you think Valentina knows if I can get pregnant?”

“I don’t think we should ask.”

[txtaetertots]

ੈ✩‧₊˚—; random texts with bf!soobin

cw fluff, banter, reader is insecure in one set, reader is a baseball fan, CLINGY SOOBIN!!, gn!reader

note i just realized i haven’t written anything for soobin on my blog yet which is surprising bc he’s literally my bias so i thought why not make him my first text imagine post :’) pls enjoy this random mess mwah

© txtaetertots

[izjeon]

GONEGIRL.

athlete!jungkook x f!reader

𖥻 genre: s2l (strangers to lovers?), fwb (friends with benefits), pwp, and university au.

𖥻 rating: 18+

𖥻 word count: 3.2k

𖥻 warnings: [MINORS DNI] afab/f!reader, heavy infatuation, they basically stalk each other, a lot of sexual tension, smut is literally the plot, many mentions of wet dreams, debatable infidelity, reader has debatable morals, jungkook & reader are horny, switch!jk (but he does most of the dominating) and switch!reader, a lot of making-out, hickeys (f.receiving), reader lowkey has a praise kink, hair pulling (m.receiving), jungkook whimpers, extra beefy jungkook, dry humping… and they get caught.

a/n: this is not proofread, but why is standing next to you such a bop?? helped me finish this after months of it being stuck in the drafts. also, to whoever told me to stay in the basement, i couldn’t stick to my word, pookie 😔. enjoy!

series masterlist: GONEGIRL

chapter one - ‘slowburn?’

𖥻 GONEGIRL

you knew who he was.

jeon jungkook: the senior that all the freshmen drooled for and the senior that all the seniors wanted to themselves. as a senior yourself, you couldn’t say he didn’t intrigue you. he was a sporty guy, winning national and global championships in track and wrestling for fun on the side. obviously, his matches were the most popular in viewership across the university. the golden boy, he never once failed to add another gold medal to your university’s esteemed profile.

so, you knew who he was, but you couldn’t understand why his eyes were stuck on you and only you.

you’d first met him at a party held by one of his close friends, namjoon. you were introduced briefly and didn’t exchange any numbers or socials. but, that following morning, jngkk_97 followed you on instagram. and, from that day on, he was the first guy to like your posts, the first guy to view your stories and the first guy you knew of to not slide into your dms.

with his intriguing, yet unexpectedly distant, behaviour, he found his way into your mind— 24/7. so, every morning, you awoke, gaslighting yourself into believing that the thought of his pink, pouty lips on yours didn't actually send you into a midlife crisis. they just made you a little faint.

every single night, you tucked your fragile mind into bed, losing yourself in hazy dreams branded by the thought of jungkook's touch. but, after a few weeks of contactless flirting, you let the idea of him go.

because you’d been told he had a girlfriend.

although it usually took a lot to do so, you felt the cowardly urge to give up on your infatuation. it'd been more than 2 weeks of mutual stalking but, still, no message. you guessed, he just wasn't as desperate for you as you were for him.

and you didn't like that. so you quit your daily routine of streaming his instagram and greedily watched as he kept up his own stalkish routine, consecutively failing to direct his focus back onto his girlfriend.

the same gorgeous girlfriend sitting with him on a black and cushy beanbag, radiating as she spoke to the other students around them. and that's when you realised, not having each other's undivided attention must've been a thing in their relationship.

because, his doe eyes of false innocence were only on you.

it was the first time you were seeing each other in person after namjoon’s party.

you stared back at jungkook through the wide, unglazed window in the separating wall between the kitchen and the living room. even with his supposed girlfriend of 5 months on his lap, running her fingers through his hair, his eyes were only on you. you scoffed, chuckling to yourself.

he would be fun.

leaning back on the kitchen counter of jennie’s apartment, you tilted your head to the side. intrigued, you watched as he did the same, copying your actions with a lopsided grin. now, you didn’t have the best eyesight but you weren’t so blind that you couldn’t tell that he was clearly hinting at something. something that would land you in a very taboo situation.

and you loved that.

you lifted your plastic cup to your lips and turned away from the athlete sitting at the other end of the room. you downed your drink as you walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. you looked around for your best friend and there she was, face deep in boobs.

as you made your way to the couch she was sprawled on, you realised the athlete had disappeared from his girlfriend’s side. curious of where he’d disappeared to, your eyes ran across the packed apartment, desperate for the sight of him.

and there it was, the something.

he was standing near the front door and his girlfriend had gone to sit with other seniors. it looked like he was exchanging goodbyes with his friends.

he was leaving— without his girlfriend.

“jennie, i think i’m going,” you mindlessly whispered, eyes stuck on the 5’10" hottie with his foot out the door and doe eyes drifting back across the crowded room. then his eyes were on yours again: a silent exchange of words.

“already…?” a drunk jennie whined, lifting her face from the deep cleavage of her girlfriend. “wait,” she mumbled, eyebrows scrunching into a sobering expression, and squinted her eyes at your side profile. “you think?”

satisfied with your decided future, you turned back to your best friend with your lips curling into a sly grin. “no, i know.”

she lazily propped herself up on her girlfriend and whined, “but how’re you gonna get home~?”

the front door slammed shut.

“i’ll find a ride.”

𖥻 GONEGIRL

jungkook picked at the zip of his thin bomber coat. he was leaning against his black benz, waiting.

ever since he first laid his eyes on you in that little backless, black dress, jungkook knew you were trouble. you were a distraction; more distracting than the pending termination of his current relationship; and much more distracting than the thought of joining the national track team again. you were a parasite living in his mind.

he practically breathed you. when he woke, you were his first thought. when he felt compelled to open instagram, you were there. even when he would try to escape you in his sleep, you were there. he could barely last ten seconds sinking into the thought of you. if you let him sink into the reality of you, jungkook would cease to exist.

jungkook groaned, throwing back his head. he thought he would be fine and perfectly content with your instagram and your daily occurrence in his dreams (sexual or not), but you just had to show up at this party— held by your best friend. how was he supposed to know you guys were best friends? now he was actually waiting for the real you and he could feel himself going mad. he wasn’t sure he could keep his hands to himself and he could already feel the consequences of his future actions creeping up on him—

“who bought that for you?”

his ears twitched.

his heart lunged and his eyes found yours in an instant. but jungkook’s always had a wandering eye.

his eyes almost instantly fell to your body, trailing over your exposed cleavage in your white dress, and then dropping to the high slit on your left thigh, almost exposing your crotch. you were some type of angel for sure.

he was fucked.

jungkook was fucked the moment he met you; the moment he spent over an hour scrolling through countless instagram accounts to find yours; the moment he couldn’t dream of his own future without you showing up; and the moment he began to pray you showed up in his dreams every night before bed.

he was fucked because he feared once he had a hold on you, he would never be able to let go.

a man’s logic.

“my dad,” jungkook finally replied, pulling himself together. “he decided i needed a car— because i run 24/7. and there definitely cannot be a cheaper and better car than a mercedes benz.”

his sarcastic tone made you smile.

“that’s cute,” you smiled.

it went silent.

“do you need a ride?”

“don’t you have a girlfriend?” you rebutted with a smirk. truthfully, part of you didn’t care about his answer. you were an addict in front of a line of coke. you would get what you wanted one way or another.

“ha,” he chuckled, lowering his head in what you thought was shame. your question put jungkook on the spot. and you knew cheaters never worked well when put on the spot. but jungkook looked up with a wincing smile and corrected you, “she’s not my girlfriend.”

oh.

“we’re… complicated.”

now, jungkook wasn’t sure that choyeon would’ve given you the same answer. they weren’t together, but she acted as if they were. and he didn’t make much of an effort to correct her. so, he guessed he was still guilty. but he only felt guilty to a certain extent. he’d already chosen feeling guilty about hurting choyeon rather than missing an opportunity to get what he dreamed of.

what he fucking craved.

the sound of your heels getting closer to him kissed jungkook out of his thoughts. oh, you seduced him: the feeling of your manicured fingers gently grabbing hold of his chin and slowly lowering his clouded eyes to yours.

you whispered, “how complicated?”

jungkook held his breath for a second or two. how complicated were they? well, he knew they were complicated enough for him to forget about her in your presence and only remember her when you asked him to. however, they weren’t complicated enough for them to not be in some sort of a relationship.

but he decided it didn’t matter. when it came to you, she didn’t matter. he realised how beautiful your eyes looked under the moonlight. they glistened with the false innocence jungkook knew would ruin him. after all the nights of imagined panting, moaning and fucking and mornings of bitter reality, post-clarity and cum-stained sheets, jungkook burned for your touch.

fuck, he could almost taste you.

as if you could read his thoughts, your awaiting finger finally fell onto the his plump bottom lip, sweetly kissing the man out of his stupor. your eyes left his and fell to where your finger slowly traced across jungkook’s soft, pink receipt of kisses.

that’s when his lips parted, and he whispered, “as complicated as you want.”

at his answer, your distracted eyes flickered back up to his awaiting, hooded eyes. that’s when you, too, realised how dangerous your infatuation had gotten. just the sight of those buttered chestnut eyes and the intoxicating feel of his slow exhales on your skin forced you into a reality where you lacked even the smallest control over your own body. but, even more dangerous, was how little you cared about the way you drowned in his presence. but then again, you never did learn how to swim.

you smiled, letting your hands fall back to your sides.

“i’ll take that ride.”

𖥻 GONEGIRL

the ride back to yours was almost silent, only filled with random whispers of directions coming from jungkook’s gps system. the voiced map directed him to your address and, yet, everything else pointed his eyes to you.

jungkook took a glance at you. he watched you; he watched you with your elbow propped up onto the rolled-down window, relaxed upper body peeking out into seoul’s night. he saw how you leaned further into the wind licking at your cheeks when he pressed on the gas, a hint of a smile wavering across your partially hidden face. he watched you in the silence, accepting his loud need— his loud need for you.

and he didn’t even know you. but jungkook couldn’t seem to find the rational sense to care. he knew you were a ‘stranger’ but, fuck, you’d overwhelmed his entire existence. you had damned him to the crucifying point where he actually felt the need to breathe you— to accept every single inch of you into his being— and he had no idea why. even as he glanced in your direction for the hundredth time, he couldn’t dare try to understand how you’d done this to him.

once again, as if you could read his thoughts, your head turned, lost eyes running over the lavender lights in the car. and like a key, your wandering eyes pierced his and locked his gaze onto yours.

“you’ve arrived at your destination,” the gps announced, breaking the exchanged glance. jungkook turned back to the road, and you turned back to seoul’s night.

“mm, just here,” you hummed, pointing to an empty parking spot in front of the tall apartment complex. maybe it was just human curiosity, but you found yourself mesmerised by the way he smoothly slotted the benz into the empty space.

fuck, everything he did was hot.

the sound of the engine’s hum softening into a quiet mew reminded jungkook of the anticipation clawing at his skin. it clouded his senses. but when his eyes flitted back onto you, yours were already on his.

he watched your lips part, and stilled as your next whisper left a trail of wet kisses across his mind.

“come up with me.”

𖥻 GONEGIRL

“thanks,” you started, slotting your key into auburn door’s lock. turning to catch a glimpse of jungkook’s dewy eyes behind his black locks, you smiled and continued, “for the ride.”

jungkook’s lips quirked into the same lopsided grin from earlier. “you��re welcome,” he replied.

it was silent again.

with those hidden eyes still on yours, jungkook’s tongue slipped past his lips, running over his bottom lips. your gaze dropped to the pink tongue flitting across those pink, pillowy lips of his, and you sunk. those lips forced you into a familiar daydream where all that mattered was letting your tongue glide across his bottom lip until you slipped in, fucking his tongue with yours— tasting jungkook.

you needed a taste.

you glanced back up into his prolonged stare. then your hands were falling from the keys in the door, fingers smoothing across the nape of his neck and cheek, and tugging his lips down to yours. but jungkook’s hands were already cradling your hips, touch-starved fingers pressing into your sides, as his lips met yours first.

it was a gentle yet deep peck. a peck was quick: it allowed jungkook to draw back for two crucial seconds and let his clouded vision run over your expression. alluring eyes looked up into his gaze and jungkook could finally see it: your mutual desperation, the hunger, and the torture. it was all he needed to see before his finger was tilting your chin up once more, and his lips were taking you in.

from brushing his tongue past yours to savouring the taste of alcohol on your tongue, jungkook sunk into the taste of you. but he didn’t know if he could go any longer without sinking into you. his hand left your waist cold, fingers fumbling with the keys in the door and failing miserably. “no,” you rushed, lips barely leaving his. “turn them to the right.”

after hearing the click of your stubborn door unlocking, you were all over each other again. you stumbled into your apartment, hand quickly muddling with the light switch, with jungkook hurrying after you, tossing your keys and his suffocating jacket aside.

his daring fingers smoothed over your ass, kneading the soft, clothed skin, before lifting you to his hips. a deep hum of approval rumbled against your lips as your legs wrapped around him. but, in this position, your little dress had ridden up, exposing a white thong snug to your weeping slit. and who on earth would jungkook be if he didn’t cop a feel?

lifting you up once more to adjust his arm, the tips of jungkook’s fingers slipped under the white lace, fingers grazing across your supple ass. feeling his fingers inch closer to your needy cunt, your breath hitched and the dull stir in your core began to hum, itching for more than a simple touch.

and, as if he could read your mind, your breath was forced from you, head falling onto the lush cushions on your sofa. wafts of mint invading your senses, your hazy eyes took in how beautiful jungkook looked above you— like it was where he was meant to be. and he realised the same, the apartment’s warm and amber lights cascading through his locks and clouding the irises of your tempting eyes.

in that still second, both you and jungkook came to a silent agreement. your dreams couldn’t compare to reality.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

you blinked. you knew you were beautiful— of course— but hearing the phrase trickle out of jungkook’s pretty mouth felt…different. your eyes followed his as his gaze fluttered across your face, brows furrowing as if he were in awe.

“kiss me,” you begged, and he obeyed.

greedy, jungkook’s kisses were everywhere— on your swollen lips, before tumbling down your jaw to the middle of your neck, littering a trail of bruising hickeys. and you couldn’t do anything but moan, whimper, and sink into his sweet touch.

“oh, fuck,” you whined, head tilting back into the plush sofa. your fingers pushed through the thick rift of hair at the nape of his neck, tugging on it. but you never would’ve expected such a pathetic moan to leave his throat, rumbling into the sweet spot right above your collarbone. you paused. his moan echoed in your mind— a repeating succulent sound. so, you tugged a little harder, relishing in how he muffled a guttural whimper into the base of your neck, “mmf, fuck”. but then his hips began to move against yours, revengeful, and you realised how fucked you were— and would be.

jungkook had a bulge that made you wonder; wonder how he crammed that shit into his boxers; wonder how he lived a seemingly normal life with it; and wonder how he would struggle to cram that cock into your sopping mess of a cunt. so, as he ground down against your erect clit, your hips bucked up into his fucking, eager to measure the sheer size of the hidden dick. “oh, please,” you whined, thoughts stained by the way he licked a hot stripe across your ear’s helix, boner perfectly smushing down against your clit.

bruising lips barely touching yours, half-lidded eyes cruelly watched as you rode up into his clothed cock and stuttered moans so pathetic your cheeks burned, glazed eyes brimming with tears. he was already fucking you so good, and he hadn’t even touched your bare pussy yet.

oh, jungkook ruined you. with a hand trailing down your heated sides, he sent your body into a rabid heat, his touch only licking the wet flame ruining your ability to think. and when his hand finally cupped your leaking cunt, thumb circling over your pulsing clit, you were already begging pitiful whimpers. “please, please, please—”

“___?”

your bodies stilled.

a voice that was not yours or jungkook’s echoed throughout the apartment, piercing the thick haze that’d swallowed your minds whole. you blinked, stare slowly lowering to jungkook’s stunned stare that was already on you. his doe eyes wrinkled into a smile as his lips pursed into an awkward grin. the cringe was evident on his face; he was a grown adult getting caught with his hand deep in the cookie jar.

jungkook’s head slowly raised and turned, peeking over the sofa to see your intruder and his cockblock. then he froze. still hidden from the eyes of your cockblock, you eyed his expression, confused on why remained still, eyes wide, lips pursed and ears burning red.

who was it?

begrudgingly, you shuffled out of jungkook’s caging arms, propping yourself up on your elbows, and looked over the sofa, ready to kick out your cockblocking neighbour. but who you saw wasn’t an unfortunate neighbour you could just dismiss. in fact, the person you saw made you the unfortunate neighbour because there your best friend stood, mouth agape and only a foot into the apartment.

“oh, fuck. well, um. oh wow,” jennie blubbered, feet awkwardly wobbling over the door’s threshold. now, drunk jennie didn’t have the best memory but she could’ve sworn she’d warned you about jungkook’s relationship status. so, as you watched the cogs turn in her head, her brows furrow and her eyes squint, darting between the both of you, all you could do was blink and smile.

“…what the fuck?”

gg: ‘slowburn?’ - fini

[cuteandhughesy]

When The Seasons Change | Luke Hughes (instagram edit)

summary: luke and your instagram posts after you officially begin dating - through the seasons of celebrations of the year

warnings: some suggestive comments but nothing that stands out !

face claim: maude apatow

a/n: the fan fav fic gets its insta edit!! see bottom a/n for more details :)

link to when the seasons change

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by jackhughes and lhughes_06 and others

yourusername thanks to you i’ll never have to have a shitty valentines breakfast date 💌 sending you love in canada lukey

tagged lhughes_06

comments

user1 stop this is so cute ☺️

user2 ME

lhughes_06 fan behaviour

yourusername 😩

user3 awh

user4 happy love day guys 😍😍

user5 you’re so adorable

jackhughes perk up lukey

yoursername he can’t he’s not with me 💅🏻

user6 the heart is too real

user7 i’m obsessed with you both 🥰🥰

user8 THE TEDDY

lhughes_06 love you sm though

liked by nicohischier , _quinnhughes and others

yourusername best birthday present ever ❤️

tagged lhughes_06

comments

user1 happy birthday !!

user2 bday baddie 🙏🏼

user3 two softies awh

_quinnhughes happy birthday 🥳

lhughes_06 happy birthday baby 😘

user5 that should be me 🎶

lhughes_06 aging like wine 🫠😍

yoursername drink me up

user6 I saw you in vancouver with ellen!!!

user7 🔥🎂 okayyyyy

jackhughes happy bday 💪

liked by dawson1417, curtislazar95 and others

lhughes_06 happy birthday dork ❤️

tagged yourusername

comments

nicohischier happy birthday y/n!

user1 wifeys birthday 🎂

user2 i’m obsessed with her 😍

curtislazar95 when we partying ??? 🥳

yourusername whenever luke lets me out of my cage…

lhughes_06 stop it.

user3 happy birthday!

dawson1417 happy bday !

yoursername 😊 thanks

user4 queen 👸

njdevils happy birthday 🥳

user5 she’s an icon

user6 baddie 🔥

user7 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

john.marino97 happy birthday 🎈

liked by _quinnhughes, jackhughes and others

yourusername happy spring 🐇

tagged lhughes_06

comments

user1 easter looks so magical through your eyes

user2 😍

_quinnhughes egg hunt war flashbacks

jackhughes you’re just upset u lost

user3 this is everything ❤️

lhughes_06 look at those eggs

yoursername somebody cute helped me get them 🫢🫶🏻

user4 🐰🐰

user5 spring vibessss

user6 luke is LUCKY holy moly

curtislazar95 where’s my invite ?

lhughes_06 absolutely not.

yourusername no pls come and put luke in his place 🙏🏼

liked by yourusername, jacob_truscott20 and others

lhughes_06 this is how we do☀️😎

tagged yourusername, jackhughes, jacob_truscott20, edwards.73, _quinnhughes & trevorzegras

comments

edwards.73 the boysss🌊🏄

user1 to spend summer with this group 😩

user2 can’t wait for the season to start 💪

jackhughes 🔥🔥

jacob_truscott20 okayyyy

user3 love a hughes summer pic

yourusername omg 🫠

user4 you’re so hot

user5 please give me a chance

yoursername me too 🙏🏼

user6 you're so cute

luca.fantilli 😍😍

user7 you get better with every season

user8 can’t decide who I want more

trevorzegras y/n’s wakeboarding skills need to be studied

liked by luca.fantilli, rutgermcgroarty and others

yourusername summer of love 🌊

tagged lhughes_06

comments

user1 stop im obsessed with you guys

user2 aesthetic 🍒

user3 jack 😍😍

lhughes_06 you’re my favourite season 🫶🏻

yourusername you’re such a kiss ass but I love you for it

user4 body is TEA 🔥🔥

tyler_duke25 and that’s on period

edwards.73 …what does that mean

user5 you are glowing !

user6 ☀️☀️☀️

user7 need the details on literally everything

yourmomsusername love you two 😻

liked by jackhughes, lhughes_06 and others

yourusername happiest birthday to my best friend ❤️ you are the funniest, most comforting human i’ve ever known and I can’t wait to spend forever with you. I love you so much

tagged lhughes_06

comments

user1 stop it right now 🫠

jacob_truscott20 what a stud

user2 THE BABY PIC IM DEAD

yourmomsusername my babies ❤️ happy anniversary you two

user3 thriving

lhughes_06 you were such a cutie

yoursername WERE??!!?

user4 mother and father

user5 oh okay…i’m so single 🥲

user6 ON MY FEED? WITH MY WIFI?

jackhughes that pic from the zoo where the giraffe got ya?

yourusername how dare you.

user7 jerseys finest

user8 happy anniversary 🥰

_quinnhughes luke…always the suck up

liked by curtislazar95, _quinnhughes and others

yourusername fall is my favourite because that’s when I realized I fell in love with you ❤️ happy spooky season

tagged lhughes_06

comments

_quinnhughes not fair that I didn’t get any of those cookies

user1 quinn baby you don’t live there…

user2 your hair in both pics is to die for 😍

user3 the caption ! 🥲

njdevils we love fall too 👹🏒

lhughes_06 my pumpkin remains superior

yourusername whatever helps you sleep

user4 🍂🍂🍂

user5 you’re so pretty

user6 queen

curtislazar95 love to see luke finally being useful

lhughes_06 take some pointers curtis

jackhughes ugh still thinking about those cookies 🤤

_quinnhughes not the time jack.

liked by edwards.73, jackhughes and others

yourusername happy holidays babies 🎄(ft. pumpkin)

comments

user1 merry christmas 🎄🎅🏻🎁

user2 very beautiful 😻

njdevils merry christmas y/n and pumpkin ❤️

user3 the kitty is adorable OMG

user5 LOVE ❤️

lhughes_06 omfg you’re so cute

yoursername awh thank u ☺️

lhughes_06 was talking about pumpkin

yourusername oh.

user6 you’re so stunning 🤩 😍

user7 merry christmas queen 🎄

user8 hope pumpkins gets everything they asked for 😩

nichohischer pumpkin !!!

user9 happy holidays🫶🏻

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

a/n: not spell checked currently <3 also today I posted my first fic for the christmas special - make sure you go check it out! also requesting for my christmas special is open until sunday, december 1st until midnight! so it’s not too late to submit a request :) 🎅🏻🎄 enjoyyy

ALSO I have a fun poll up in my page regarding fanfic playlist - make sure you go vote ❤️

I do not own any of these photos - full credits to original owners.

[drsreidssah]

The fic I’m working on for him right now is making me fall back in to my Spencer Reid era … … I missed being in my Spencer Reid era

[haerni]

OH MY GOD, “who is he? ”

summary: feels like you’re fallin’ deeper & maybe you’re going crazy, right? does he want you or not? he’s so confusing!

ft. park sunghoon (based on ‘OMG’ by newjeans!)

content: fem! reader, tooth-rotting fluff, a lil bit of hurt comfort, sunghoon is that confusing guy, mutual pining, reader is a bit embarrassing i think? sunoo your support system! 1.8k words

— very very minimal proofread and editing bc ive only done this in one sitting (help me).

( 🍃 ) notes: this took me so long omfgsbks but here we are with my very first content on this blog, please be nice TT sunghoon might be ooc saur.. theres that! can u tell i love sunoo, i have to sneak him in. maybe the story will jump for awhile so sorry for that also.

you've probably liked PARK SUNGHOON for almost half of your life.

ever since he sat with you at the swing from the park you used to go to when you were kids and offering his own comfort when you were crying on that day, to this day forward when he offers his shoulder for you to cry on.

he never questions the reasons behind your cries, he never pushes and all he does is sit there and offer you whispers of solace that you take to heart.

because your best friend wouldn't want the worst for you.

because all he does is care for you.

and maybe—just maybe—you hate him a little for it, for doing things that make your heart flutter, for simply just touching your hair and pulling you closer hoping that it will quell the sadness that consumes you. or when he would walk with you home after his practice despite being tired and run down to the bones, he would never miss a day. or when he would call you such sweet things like you are together when you aren't.

or when one time he heard through jay how someone was making passes on you and disgusting comments about you, he comes home with a bruised lip and wounded knuckles. he refused to let you see him, not until you forced your way to his room with the first aid kit his mother let you borrow, because he also wouldn't let her treat him.

or when you can't even pretend to be okay in the sea of bodies in a party and he notices right away. he drags you by your hand and drags you out of the party without a care for anyone. he only tells you that he hates the party and would rather eat out in a convenience store nearby.

he holds your hand tightly, you knew that night you loved park sunghoon more than you could ever imagine.

a decade into your friendship, you fell in love with your best friend, park sunghoon.

you did your best to hide it, to keep these emotions at bay and lock away into the very bottom of your heart. you swallow the bubbling feeling in your throat whenever he's close. you did your very best to preserve the relationship the both of you built together. even if all you wanted was just ruin it and become something more.

loving park sunghoon was easy, it was easy as the breeze that touched your hair, it was easy as falling into a routine of living and looking forward to days when he's with you. the prospect of loving sunghoon comes naturally and you don't know how to stop it. it just grows more everyday and suddenly you find yourself in garden of flowers blossoming in your heart, so much that's its starting to flow out little by little and you're slipping, you're heart is becoming unguarded, the walls you've spent all your life building is chipping away slowly.

it's becoming suffocating, it's hard to breathe around him.

the passing touches, the stolen glances and brief silence has been occurring more and more.

it's only a matter of time, before someone catches on. unfortunately, that time is right now.

"what's with you and sunghoon, lately?" your friend, sunoo asks, "did you guys have a fight?"

a second passes before you answer him, "we did not. why do you ask?"

sunoo sits closer to you and puts his face on his palm, "you have been avoiding him."

you stopped, "no, i'm not."

"it's lunch and you're sitting here with me in the library, working on an assignment that's not due until next week, when you usually never miss eating when he comes by our room to eat with you." he pointed out.

too specific. were you that predictable? and when you don't answer sunoo realizes something. when his eyes widen too much for your comfort that's when you interject from whatever train of thought he had.

"or maybe—"

"i don't know what you are talking about, sunoo."

"you're avoiding him.."

"i already told you, i'm not—!"

"sure, keep telling yourself that." sunoo snorts at that, "i know you like him and not how a best friend should."

you can't breathe again, you were absolutely done for. because sunoo was right, he got the answer right and you couldn't find it in yourself to quip back at him. you can't find it in yourself to deny and brush it off, because it's simply not real, it's not what your heart is telling you. maybe, that was your last straw.

maybe that was all it needed for you to let out your heart just for once and face the reality.

you don't want sunghoon as a best friend.

the realization hits harder when someone utters it out, because you have lived all your life hiding and suddenly, it pours out like rain after a long unending drought.

now here you are. in the porch of your house under the moonlight with you encased in sunghoon's arms, because you were stupid enough to go out and try to forget about him, to go see other people and hope that you can lose all these feelings you have for him. it didn't, maybe it never will. a boy, somehow he's the same height and stature as sunghoon it was enough for you to agree for a dinner out.

it was stupid to begin with. you didn't even know this guy's name (you can't even bother to remember). because while you sat there and tried to engage with him, your mind drifted far on how he does not have the same moles as sunghoon, he does not make you laugh like sunghoon does, maybe he would've took you out to that ramen place you always go to after a long day instead of this fancy restaurant that you don't even know. quite sure enough that guy only talked about himself, you didn't listen.

"so are we going?" he gives you an all-knowing smile and as you try to turn him down a voice comes in.

"she's not going with you." you look behind, and there he stands one hand in his pocket wearing a white button-up shirt that you haven't seen before, a cold gaze accompanying it and his hair done all too perfectly—like he was on a date.

"hey! who do you think you are?" sunghoon ignores him as he offers his hand to you. tilting his head in question. you did not hesitate to grab it. it's almost a curse for him to know when you need him the most.

you can feel the heat rising up in your body as he intertwines both of your hands and gives it a squeeze.

he brings you home, like how he promised your dad when you were sixteen.

you bite your lips in hopes of suppressing all the emotions running down on you. but you can't really do that in front of sunghoon, can you?

you broke down.

and sunghoon was there—it was enough. it was enough for everything to pour out.

"i'm tired, hoon." his arms tighten around you, burying his face to your hair, almost as if he's kissing it in comfort.

you're tired? is it because of that guy? should he beat him up? you wouldn't like it anyway, so he erase the thought. park sunghoon has never hated anyone more than that jerk right now. he curses that stupid guy who made you like this.

"i hate you park sunghoon."

"you don't mean that."

you don't.

"i really really hate you." you were probably the worst to utter such words to him. to your best friend, to sunghoon out of all people. but you can't stop. "you're so stupid, stupid."

it takes him back, he didn't expect for you to be mad at him. he's silent for a moment as he continues to hold you like you're going to disappear.

"how am i stupid, baby?" there he goes again with those stupid nicknames.

you refuse to look at him, burying your face to his nape. and when you don't answer he talks for you.

"do you hate me that much for you not to look at me?" you really hate park sunghoon.

he sighs at the lack of your response. he shakes his head before he turns his face closer to your ear, "what am i gonna do, baby? you hate me, but i like you so much."

what? what the fuck?

that makes you widen your eyes processing what he just said as you sit up straight and facing him. and it makes him laugh a little, he probably shouldn't, but he couldn't help it. not when you're this adorably looking at him like you can't believe it.

"don't joke about things like that park sunghoon!"

wow, using his government name? "you don't believe me?" you don't answer. "why do you think i came to that awful restaurant wearing this shirt?" you knew it was new, you've never seen him wear it.

"because you want to fit it?" you answer.

"that too," he laughs, "and because you didn't eat lunch with me, you didn't walk home with me. i heard from sunoo, that you were out with someone and you didn't dress up because of me. you were on a date and it wasn't me. you were avoiding me, baby."

he looks at you and it hurts because both of you are a fucking idiot. all this time, sunghoon liked you.

park sunghoon likes you.

"how long?" and you can't help it, you have to know.

he thinks for a second, "hm.. since when you were on that swing? i thought you were pretty." he smiles so easily.

oh my god.

you buried your face once more, not really knowing what to do, because for the longest time you thought you were the only one feeling this way.

but sunghoon understands, he continues to talk, "jay thinks i'm obsessed with you. he's not wrong, you know? you don't have to say anything right now, i know you're having a har—"

you kissed him. park sunghoon is really an idiot. how can you not like him? how can anyone not even like him? he's so stupid. sunghoon's eyes widen a bit, but melts into your touch as quickly.

god, was this really happening? please don't ever wake him up if this is a dream.

you pulled away for a breather and he reached for another one causing you to block his lips with your hand.

feeling the blood in your cheeks, flustered as sunghoon kisses your palm instead. his hand coming up to yours to remove it.

"can i kiss you again?" you were going to die, "please?" you're sure of it.

"no!"

sunghoon laughs at that. you can't feel it, but his cheeks are really hurting now from smiling. maybe one day you'll let him kiss you more, but for now this is enough.

he has loved you almost all of his life.

𖹭 likes and reblogs are highly appreciated! i hope he is not too out of character :')

[alinathinkstoomuch]

Filthy Flat-Pack Thoughts

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader summary: you had taken the day off to get yourself settled into your new apartment, not expecting hotch to show up at your door and offer a hand. warnings: suggestive, reader basically shoves her tits in hotch's face (you go girl!), hotch also catches reader in a towel, hotch being a gentleman (though not too gentlemanly because there's a filthy part two coming), like one cuss word, alcohol consumption. word count: 3.5k part 2 can be found here ✧ masterlist

You were pretty sure you’d maxed out every cuss word under the sun. If you spoke another language, you’d have burned through those swear words too. Guns? No problem. Paperwork? Manageable. Serial killers? Routine. But flat–pack furniture? That was where you met your match.

You had taken Friday off, thanks to your wonderful boss, who’d graciously allowed you the day. It had been a slow week, so you weren’t missing much – except your sanity. Because this damn bookshelf was out to get you.

The screw had slipped off the drill, skidded across the floor, and promptly disappeared into the abyss under your couch. Instead of hunting for it, you sighed, took another sip of your generously poured wine, and made a mental note to buy your new neighbours a bottle as an apology for all the yelling.

Just as you contemplated abandoning the bookshelf entirely and living amongst the scattered wooden panels like some modern art installation, there was a sharp knock at the door. You frowned, glancing at the time. You weren’t expecting anyone. In fact, barely anyone even had your new address.

Pulling open the door, you blinked up at Aaron Hotchner. Dressed in his usual suit, case file in hand, looking every bit the no–nonsense boss he was. Except instead of standing in the BAU bullpen, he was at your doorstep.

“Hotch? How did you –”

“Garcia,” he answered before you could finish.

Of course.

Your gaze dropped to the file in his hand, and you raised a brow. “This your version of a housewarming gift?”

“Consider it a reminder that work doesn’t stop just because you took the day off.” His voice was dry, but there was something in his expression – something amused – as his eyes trailed behind you.

He took in the mess of furniture, the scattered tools, the half–built bookshelf that somehow looked less assembled than when it arrived.

His lips twitched. “Do you need a hand?”

You needed his two hands somewhere where they weren’t supposed to be.

You cleared your throat, leaning against the doorframe like you weren’t having wildly inappropriate thoughts about your boss in the middle of your living room. It had to be the wine. Definitely the wine.

“I don’t know, Hotch. You any good with a drill?”

“I’m good with my hands.”

Your brain promptly short–circuited.

The squeak that slipped out of your mouth was completely involuntary and you just about covered it with a cough. Nope. No more wine. Never again.

He let the words hang there for half a second longer than necessary before stepping inside like he hadn’t just knocked the air from your lungs.

You shut the door behind him, barely registering the click as his gaze swept over the apartment, but you were too busy noticing something else entirely.

Like the fact that you were in nothing but leggings and a camisole. No bra. And the sudden draft from the door being open had done absolutely nothing to help your situation. Which was completely at odds with the heat now swimming under your skin as you watched Hotch – your boss – shrug off his jacket and roll up his sleeves with ease.

You stared. Really stared.

At his arms. At the way his fingers flexed as he pushed his sleeves up, forearms tensing, veins standing out in a way that was doing something entirely inappropriate to your already scattered thoughts.

You swallowed.

This was fine.

Totally fine.

Expect that was a lie. Because watching Aaron Hotchner, sleeves rolled up, tie slightly loosened, looking every bit the effortlessly competent man he was, was decidedly not fine.

“I assume this is supposed to resemble a bookshelf,” he mused, flipping through the instruction manual like it was a case file.

“That was the goal, yeah,” you muttered, trying not to hyper–fixate on the way he picked up a screwdriver.

“You were using the wrong screws,” he said matter–of–factly, turning the page and pointing to a very clear, very obvious diagram.

You crossed your arms. “No, I wasn’t.”

His expression didn’t change as he simply rotated the manual toward you.

You squinted.

Oh.

“Alright, maybe I was.”

He hummed in response, neither confirming nor denying your admission of defeat and got to work.

You sank onto the floor beside him, grabbing a stray screw in a desperate attempt to act normal. “So,” you began, determined to break whatever spell was settling between you, “is this why you really came by? To drop off paperwork and get roped into manual labour?”

He didn’t look up, but you caught the way his mouth quirked. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“No.”

His fingers paused before he resumed turning the screwdriver. “Garcia worries,” he admitted.

You scoffed. “Garcia meddles.”

“She was concerned about you being here alone.”

“I am an FBI agent, you know. I can handle a bookshelf.”

His line of sight flicked up to you then, slow and considering. “Can you?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“I’m not implying anything,” he said smoothly. “I’m stating that you were using the wrong screws, the wrong drill bit, and judging by the manual placement, attempting to put one of these pieces in backwards.”

Your mouth fell open. “Okay, first of all—”

“You also swore at it,” he added, like that was solid proof of your failure.

You exhaled sharply. “You heard that?”

“I heard a lot of things.”

The way he said it sent heat creeping up the back of your neck. “Well, if you’re such an expert, feel free to take over whilst I fix myself something to drink.”

Before he could respond, you pushed yourself up and made your way to the kitchen, grabbing the already open bottle of wine and topping off your glass. Then on impulse, you poured another, just enough to finish the bottle.

You weren’t sure what possessed you to do it, but when you returned back, two glasses in hand, it felt like some sort of silent invitation you weren’t ready to acknowledge. But it was completely harmless, right?

Just a casual gesture. A simple offering to someone who had gone out of his way when he didn’t have to. You were just being a good hostess, thanking Hotch for the extra mile, when realistically, this was probably the last place he wanted to be on a Friday night.

Re–entering the living room, you set your own glass down near your spot before extending the other to him. Hotch lifted his eyes, gaze moving from the glass to your face as he raised a brow.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Its either we share, or I’d have to admit to finishing an entire bottle of wine by myself.”

“That’s very responsible.” He took the glass, his fingers brushing yours, the contact sending something sharp skittering down your spine.

“Guess Garcia was right to send you over.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he lifted the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip, his eyes still locked onto yours over the rim.

Your stomach flipped. No – literally flipped. It felt like an entire theme park had set up shop inside you, rollercoasters and all. You swallowed, quickly lowering yourself back onto the floor, hoping that if you focused on something else – anything else – you could push past the fuzziness you felt.

“How can I help?” you asked, forcing a casual tone as Hotch set his glass aside.

He grabbed two of the wooden panels, fingers moving with that same precise efficiency that had definitely been an unfair distraction this evening. “Hold these in place while I put the screws in.”

You nodded, shifting on your knees to get a better angle.

“Here,” he murmured, adjusting one of the panels. “You need to hold this one higher.”

You complied, stretching a little too far in the process.

And that’s when it happened.

The movement tilted your chest forward – right into his space.

You froze.

And so did he.

The shift left you practically pressing against him, your camisole offering absolutely no barrier between the fact that his face was now far too close to your very braless predicament.

You caught the exact moment he realised it.

His grip on the screwdriver faltered for half a second. His breath hitched, just barely. And then – pointedly – he moved his eyes away, jaw tightening as if sheer willpower alone could erase what had just happened.

You should have moved. Should have said something. But you didn’t. Instead, some wild, definitely tipsy, possibly reckless, part of you decided to test just how composed the great Aaron Hotchner really was.

You shifted – just slightly. “Like this?”

His knuckles were going white. “Exactly like that.”

Your stomach flipped again, your mind taking that encouragement and running it into filthy places. Your pulse pounded in your ears as you watched him. His focus was locked on the bookshelf, or at least, that’s where it was supposed to be. But the stiff set of his shoulders, the sharp exhale through his nose, the way his grip tightened just a little too much around the screwdriver – none of it was subtle.

You really should move.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he made the deliberate choice not to look at you. Your lips parted, the tease on the tip of your tongue ready to push him just a little further, but before you could say a word, he spoke first.

“Hold still,” he muttered, adjusting the panel again.

But it wasn’t just his hands that moved this time. His knuckles brushed your ribs. The touch was light – so light it could’ve been nothing. But it didn’t feel like nothing. A sharp inhale slipped past your lips, barely audible, but enough.  

His reaction was instant, his head tilted up, instinctive and automatic. Expect his gaze didn’t land where it should.

It landed lower.

Again.

Right where the thin fabric of your camisole left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“Sorry,” you whispered as he quickly looked back down at his hands.

“You’re fine. Almost done.”

You should have been relieved, but you weren’t. Because now, it wasn’t just the wine that was intoxicating – it was him. The scent of his cologne, the warmth of his skin, the sheer presence of him so close. It wrapped around you, all too much and not enough at the same time, making it impossible to think about anything else.

And suddenly, the thought of him being done with this – stepping back, putting distance between you – wasn’t something you wanted at all.

So you loosened your grip.

It was cruel, really. A calculated move disguised as clumsiness, using the precariously placed bookshelf as an excuse to move closer.

The panel slipped and everything happened fast – too fast.  

You gasped as it wobbled out of place, throwing off your balance. Hotch’s hands shot out at the same time yours did, but the angle, the movement, all of it caused you to lose your balance. Your knees slipped beneath you as you stumbled forward, half into his lap.

His hands caught you instinctively, one gripping your waist, the other splayed against your back. The air left your lungs in a rush—not just from the fall, but from the feel of him beneath you.

Your palms pressed against his chest, feeling the rise and fall underneath your fingers. His grip tightened just a fraction, just enough. Not pulling you closer but not pushing you away either.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The world had gone utterly still. Your hands stayed planted on his chest, his warmth seeping through the fabric, while his fingers hovered at your waist – undecided, restrained and yet so very present.

“I know what you’re doing.”

Oh no.

Heat curled in your veins, your pulse hammering so loudly it drowned out everything else. “What exactly am I doing, Hotch?”

His breath was steady. Yours was not.

And then – so slow it was torturous – his thumb brushed against your side. This time, it wasn’t accidental. It was deliberate. He traced a barely-there path against your hip at the same moment your fingers curled against his chest, the fabric of his shirt bunching up.

He knew this was wrong. Knew he should move away, put space between you, remind himself that this was a line that could not – should not – be crossed.

But he didn’t move because you weren’t moving. Because your fingers curled tighter on his shirt and he could feel your breath ghosting against his skin, because your body – so impossibly close – wasn’t retreating.  

And he wasn’t sure he wanted it to.

This had started out as nothing more than a simple visit. He’d barely hesitated when you asked for the day off. It had been a quiet week and you’d had enough on your plate between cases and moving. You’d earned the time.

But when Garcia had mentioned, a little too innocently, that you’d been tackling everything alone, something shifted in him. Maybe it was the excuse he needed. Or maybe it was the way he imagined you here on your own, frustrated, stressed and something in his chest tightened too much at the thought of you struggling.

He’d told himself he was just stopping by. Just bringing the files. Just checking in.

He hadn’t expected to find you you like this.

Cheeks flushed from the wine, eyes dark and full of something unreadable, dressed in a way that left his mouth dry.

And now you were in his lap.

Your skin was warm beneath his hands, your breaths shallow, lips parted ever so slightly.

“What is it that I’m doing, Hotch?” Your voice was barely a whisper now, lashes fluttering, the barest tilt of your head closing even more of the distance between you.

He wasn’t sure if you could feel the tension humming beneath his skin. And his restraint – the control he prided himself on, the discipline he’d spent years perfecting – became a fragile, splintering thing.

If you leaned in a fraction more, there would be nothing left to stop this. He wasn’t sure if that terrified him or if it was the most tempting thought he’d ever had.

It took everything in him to fight against the impulse, to loosen his grip, to exhale sharply and force distance where there was none.

“You’ve had a long day.” His voice was rougher than he wanted it to be.

You blinked, momentarily thrown. “What?”

His hands released you.

“And you’ve had too much to drink.”

Your eyes searched his, the teasing, playful edge now gone. Replaced with something else. Frustration? Disappointment? Hurt?

That nearly destroyed him.

But he had to do this because he knew you.

He knew you’d had a long week. Knew stress pushed you toward reckless choices. Knew the wine had stripped away just enough inhibition to let you push – to let you test him, to see what he would allow.

And God help him, he wanted to give in. But not like this. Not when he wasn’t sure if you’d wake up tomorrow and regret it.

“I will finish up here. You can go and get some rest.”

He heard you exhale, saw the tension in your shoulders shift like you wanted to argue. But then you reluctantly pulled back, dragging a hand down your face as if what you had just tried to do finally settled.

“I am so sorry I don’t know what I was thi–”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s alright.”

“No it’s not alright, I–”

He said your name, stopping you before you could spiral any further. Because the last thing he wanted was for you to feel embarrassed about something you both wanted, but just couldn’t have.

“I should shower,” you muttered, not even sure if you were speaking to him or yourself.

He nodded, already shifting his attention back to the damn bookshelf, pretending to focus on something else.

Something that wasn’t you.

You hesitated in the doorway, watching as he picked up the two panels. “You really don’t have to stay. It’s late and I can finish up tomorrow.”

“I don’t mind.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, dragging your feet toward the bathroom, your body still burning not just from the heat of the moment but from the sheer embarrassment curling in your stomach like a slow, humiliating ache.

What the hell had you been thinking?

You turned the shower on, letting the sound of running water drown out the chaos of your thoughts in your head.

You knew Hotch wasn’t the kind of man to cross that line, not like that. Not with you. And yet, you had still pushed him, only to end up rejected. The memory of it made you cringe, heat rising to your cheeks again.

You stepped under the hot spray, steam curling around you, and wished you could disappear into it – dissolve into nothing and escape the hole you had just dug yourself into. You contemplated what other career paths you could take because there was no way you were walking back into the BAU on Monday morning.

It wasn’t just the rejection that stung, it was the fact that he had been right. You had been drinking. You had been stressed, exhausted and overwhelmed.

But none of those things had made you do what you did. You couldn't blame them for the way you had leaned in, for the way you had tested him, for the way you wanted him.

Because the truth was, those feelings had been festering for months.

For him.

Your boss.

And now, you had just made everything so much worse.

By the time you finally shut the shower off – and racked up a hefty water bill in the process – your body felt clean, but your thoughts were still a mess. You wrapped yourself in a towel, sighing as you reached for the door handle.

And then—

A soft click.

The sound of the front door shutting.

Your stomach twisted. Of course he had left. You swallowed hard, pushing away the sudden tightness in your chest. You gripped the edge of your towel a little tighter as you cracked the bathroom door open, stepping out into the hallway.

The apartment was quiet as you padded toward the living room, heart sinking at the sight before you. The bookshelf was finished, not a single screw out of place. And the coffee table, that was finished too, every piece perfectly assembled.

But the room was empty.

Dragging a hand through your damp hair, you turned in a slow circle, scanning for any other sign of him. But there was nothing.

It wasn’t like you expected him to stay. You had all but thrown yourself at him tonight and he had done the right thing – the gentlemanly thing – by stopping it. And yet, standing there, wrapped in nothing but your towel, your home felt emptier than it had before.

You exhaled sharply, turning back toward the bathroom, ready to put on some clothes and pretend this night never happened. But the sound of the front door swinging open caused you to spin on your heel just in time to see Hotch stepping back inside.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

First, it was him catching you without a bra, and now he had walked in on you fresh out of the shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel that barely covered anything.

The moment his gaze landed on you, his entire body went rigid. His eyes flickered downward – just for a second – before he sucked a breath in, his nostrils flaring.

He immediately looked away, clearing his throat as he shut the door behind him like this wasn't the second time tonight you'd managed to put him in an impossible situation.

"I–" He hesitated, voice tight. Too tight. "I was just taking out the rubbish."

Of course he had. Because this man was nothing if not thoughtful.

“Thank you,” you managed, fingers gripping the towel tighter, holding onto it for dear life as you shifted awkwardly. “For everything, you really didn’t have to go through all the trouble.”

He didn’t respond right away but his eyes were back on you again. You caught the way they traced the delicate slope of your collarbone, down to where a single droplet of water clung to your skin before disappearing beneath the edge of your towel.

“I – I really am sorry about earlier.”

“Don’t be. There’s nothing you need to be sorry for.”

You nodded, your line of sight drifting to where his jacket hung over the back of a chair.

It was an excuse to move. To do something other than stand there, half–naked and vulnerable under his intense stare. You grabbed it with your free hand, clutching your towel tighter with the other, and made your way over to him.

Even as you stepped closer, you felt the weight of his eyes on you–watching, tracking.

“Don’t want to forget your jacket.” You held it out to him, but when his hand reached for it, his fingers skimming yours, his attention wasn’t on the jacket.

It was on you.

“Thanks. Get some rest.”

You nodded again, lips pressing together, forcing yourself to ignore the way your pulse wouldn’t settle.

And just like that, he turned to leave, the moment passing.

Or at least, that’s what you both told yourselves.

dividers by cafekitsune

[vacate-et-scire]

*̩̩̥͙　-Your Tears Kill Me-ˏˋ⋆

Jason has seen you cry before.

A misty-eyed sniffle when you watched a sad movie. A few stray tears when you laughed too hard. That one time you got frustrated over something stupid and wiped your eyes before you even realized you were crying.

But this? This is different.

You’re sobbing.

Not quiet, not composed. It’s ugly, gut-wrenching, heartbreaking—the kind of crying that makes your whole body tremble, the kind that says this isn’t about one bad day, or even one bad week.

This is everything crashing down at once.

And Jason doesn’t know what to do.

He just stands there, stiff as a board, watching as you clutch your arms around yourself, shoulders shaking, breath hitching violently between sobs. You’re trying to talk—he can tell—but all that comes out are broken, gasping hiccups.

His heart clenches, because fuck, did he—?

"Hey, hey—" He steps forward, hands hovering awkwardly. "What happened? Did I—? Shit, did I say something?"

You shake your head wildly, but it does nothing to stop the tears.

Jason curses under his breath. "Then what? Talk to me, sweetheart."

But you can’t. Not yet. You’re still unraveling, like a dam finally bursting after holding back years of pressure. And Jason—who’s so good at fixing things with his hands, with his weapons, with sharp words and sharp instincts—doesn’t know how to fix this.

So he does the only thing he can.

He pulls you in.

You collapse against him like you were waiting for it, hands fisting into his shirt, your weight pressing into him like you’re afraid he’ll let go. He won’t. He won’t.

"Shh," he murmurs, running a hand over your back, his touch uncertain but there. "I got you. You’re okay."

You shake your head again against his chest, a choked noise escaping your throat. "I’m not."

Jason’s breath stutters.

Because he knows what it’s like to believe that—to feel like no matter how many times someone tells you you’re okay, you never are. And knowing you—someone who always smiles, always finds the light in things, always keeps going—are feeling that way?

It guts him.

"Fuck," he breathes, tightening his arms around you. "I—" He swallows hard. "I don’t know what to say, babe. I don’t know how to make this better. But I’m here. Okay? I’m right here."

You just sob.

And Jason? Jason just holds you through it. Through the shaking, through the gasping, through the way your fingers clutch at him like he’s the only thing keeping you upright.

He wishes he had the right words, wishes he could take whatever weight you’ve been carrying and break it over his knee like he does to every bastard who deserves it. But he can’t.

So he stays. He holds you, rocks you gently, presses kisses into your hair, murmurs reassurances even if he’s not sure they help.

And eventually, eventually, the sobs quiet. Your breathing evens out. Your grip on his shirt loosens, just a little.

Jason leans down, voice soft. "You back with me?"

You nod weakly.

"Yeah?"

A sniff. A small, fragile, "Yeah."

Jason lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. "Good." He presses his lips against your forehead. "Now, you wanna tell me what’s going on, or you wanna just sit here for a while?"

You don’t answer right away. But you don’t pull away, either.

And that’s enough.

So Jason stays. He holds you tighter, presses another kiss into your hair, and lets you breathe.

Because if you ever start breaking again, he’ll be right here to catch the pieces.

Every damn time.

[eternalbright-star]

nsfw. Yan!Jock x Gn!Nerd!Reader

A jock who's absolutely whipped for you!? Sign me in!!!

A tough and large jock with muscles absolutely coming undone because it's you.

His head is leaning against the headrest as he watches you with half lidded eyes as you bounced up and down on his cock, your hands playing with his large pectorals, heading leaning down to leave bite marks on his chest as he desperately clings onto your hips.

Dull finger nails digging onto your skin, moans and whimpers leaving his lips as his hips thrust up into you to meet along with yours.

"Wait! 'm gonna cum-shit." His body flinched as he felt himself cum in you faster than he expected, somehow already overstimulated as you continued to bounce on his cock.

"Is it that good?" You teased, quiet moans leaving your lips as you basically used him since you haven't even gotten to cum yet.

"So sensitive..." Your fingers toy with his nipples, pinching and pulling, causing him to moan louder, his hands gripped your hips as he pulled you down to be on time with his desperate thrusts, a groan leaving his lips as he feels himself approach his second orgasm.

"Ugh... cumming." He groaned, feeling his eyes slightly roll back.

"Yeah? Cum with me, baby..." You cooed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you increased your pace, the sound of skin slapping filling the room.

A guttural moan leaves his lips as he came in you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you down onto his cock, immediately filling you up a second time.

"Such a good boy..." You whispered, running your hands through his brown hair, kissing his freckled cheeks.

[dollyfetti]

♡ ‿‿🍫⠀⠀10 DAYS OF KATSMAS

﹒🎀˚ ୧ merry christmas!! this is a little event to celebrate the festive holidays along with our not-so festive fav, katsuki c: (i promise this'll move forward unlike kinktober cough)

i smell snow - gilmore girls au summary: getting a whiff of snow one chilly night, you persuade your grumpy friend to join you to watch the first snowfall of the year.  ⁣ 

ice my cookie (nsfw) summary: baking christmas cookies with your boyfriend gets dirtier than you anticipated...  ⁣ 

you've ruined caroling - bsf!bkg summary: you managed to convince your childhood best friend to join you and your friends to go caroling, since he didn't have anything else planned... you realize how big of a mistake that was when you hear how good of a singer he is-- and at stealing your spotlight!

 ⁣ 

meet the family - latina!reader summary: all you wanted was to give your boyfriend a fun, festive introduction to your family. but everything that can go wrong at a huge latin gathering, goes wrong.  ⁣ 

red-nosed - nerd!bkg x bimbo!reader summary: for some reason, bakugou's at your christmas party dressed as a reindeer. not that it was his choice, of course. you, being the christmas fanatic that you are, insisted that the two of you match for your holiday events—and now he’s stuck wearing antlers for the rest of the night. but he doesn't mind too much, since you're fawn-ing over him the entire party, leaving no attention for anyone else.  

 ⁣ 

secret santa - college au summary: your classmates organized a secret santa exchange, and when a certain blond realizes who you got a gift for, jealousy rises up inside him, and he almost regrets not changing his pick when no one was looking. now he has to give you his carefully chosen present with everyone watching.  ⁣ 

hallmark movie core summary: you participate in a holiday-themed scavenger hunt set up by the staff at your alma mater, U.A, never expecting to see your lifelong crush there as well. soon enough, you find yourself under a mistletoe with him. just as the awkwardness sets in, you're prepared to quickly kiss his cheek and dash home, but shockingly, katsuki scrambles through a flustered and heartfelt confession.  ⁣ 

jingle bell rock (nsfw) - bully!bkg x popular!reader summary: you and your friends (more like terrified followers) decide to recreate the iconic mean girls jingle bell rock dance for your school's holiday show. but then, you hear from one of your lackeys who heard from umi-- whatever, it doesn't really matter. point is: bakugou katsuki, the notorious jerk of the school was heard jerking off to you in the bathroom!  bakugou's pov drabble  ⁣ 

the gift of magi summary: with all the financial struggles you and your husband have been facing, neither of you know what to get the other for christmas. you both end up sacrificing your own precious belongings to buy the other's gift.  ⁣ 

bakugou christmas vlog - dad!bkg summary: spending christmas morning with your children c:

*౨ৎ comment on this post what you wanted to be tagged for!!

(u dont have to copy and paste the symbols/emojis!!)

everything 🍫❆ ₊˚🎀🎄⊹♡

@coldember @katthekat1234 @daydream-believer1309 @badasbebe @the-silent-listener09 @abinformyobsessions @cutiejg @aslutforfictionalmen @slut4donghyuck @napbatata @gold24fish @mutsu422 @d1orhaz3 @qyui @dragonscribble @starrynightsssssss @showty-introvert @teeesthings @kit-katsukii

ice my cookie 🍫❆ ₊˚🎀🎄⊹♡

@thatone16216

jingle bell rock 🍫❆ ₊˚🎀🎄⊹♡

@thatone16216

i smell snow 🍫❆ ₊˚🎀🎄⊹♡

@kitkat13001

[creativewritersposts]

I hope I undestood this correctly for the blurb week.

Can I request Connor bedard with ❤️+J (the types of kisses he gives)

1. nose kiss

He's not that much into pda in public but when you're worried about him before a game he's placing his hands softly on your cheeks and gives you a little nose kiss. It quickly became a cute, lucky charm ritual.

2. neck kiss

When he's waking up he always gives neck kisses. Depends on the mood but most of the time its cute and innocent.

3. romantic kiss

He doesn't like to get in hectic, messy make outs and is more likely to share unforgettable moments with you, full with romantic kisses. He could look in your eyes for hours without getting bored and places his lips on yours. You can feel his little smile every time. He doesn't mind to share this moments in the rain, at home or around closest people. He couldn't care less.

4. air kiss

"Connor Bedard scored a goal!", after his little celebration he's blows a kiss in your direction. At the beginning his fans were confused but after a few times they noticed it's for you. He's not the best at showing his feelings but he loves when you're blushing about it.

5. top of the head kiss

It's his way to tell you "I'm proud of you" . When you're studying for hours he reminds you to take breaks and kisses your top of the head.