#¡ let the games begin ! thread ❞

[charltcnjane]

GUESS WHO'S BACK ... BACK AGAIN !!! charlotte's back tell a friend

[muutosarchive]

it's doesn't happen how it does in the movies, that's for sure.

credenhill seemed less bleak than the russian hospital at the time, but not these days. it was hard enough coming back last time with the failures notched to his belt. gaz, griggs, mac. price. it was more of a victory than soap had imagined, seeing the old dick-tickling bastard back in one piece . . . you know, considering who exactly had a hold of him. but it didn't bring the rest of them back. didn't make it any less his fault. he's not sure if he'll ever stop having dreams about gaz lying there next to zakhaev. no matter how many more would go on to replace them. &. god knows, now he has many. (perhaps he should have been thankful, being at the boneyard. didn't have to see them burn). he's not.

in the dream he used to try to drag the russian bastard away, like he wrote about. but instead his own injuries muted him, made him weak.

but where were we? ah, right. no big flash of light, no . . . crazy visions up in smoke. no, this big bastard comes on his two legs out of bloody nowhere. captain's squinted eyes looking over across the grounds, towards the armory. cigar in hand. habits, speech . . . you could tell the man who molded him had his impact. at least he could give up the horses now that the old man's back in business. yet, that's when he notices. bloke big enough to cover up the bloody sun standing there, wearing a familiar yet foreign skeletal mask -- the likes of which easily brought a flare to squinted eyes. his jaw clenches in offense. heart seizing in his chest, his lip curls in realization whilst he throws the cigar away. this piece of shit is takin' the piss, isn't he?

"what in the bloody fuck is this then? this yer idea of some kind of a fuckin' prank?"

shifting weight, he puts himself in more of a commanding stance as the rage in blue eyes burns like the hottest point of the flame.

regardless of the implications, lieutenant simon riley was under his command. the task force was his. they gave it to him, but soap more-less handed command back to price with the pistol once they fished his ass out of the gulag. but, he'd picked his recruits. hand selected. commanded. roach &. ghost his favored among them.

another keeper: ghost. can't get over the name though. what the hell kind of name is ghost? says the man named soap, eh?

but -- he'd gotten them killed. just like gaz, just like, griggs. price words still stick with him, too. i never trusted shepherd. &. it was soap's trust in him, in the formation of 141, that got them killed.

the big bloke stands &. stares with rimmed brown eyes that make captain mactavish seethe. he doesn't see the shock, the awe -- nor the disbelief. the soft 'johnny' escaping just a bit too close for comfort.

another lurch in his gut sends his arm plowing right into barrel chest, &. shoving till he hit the nearest armored vehicle in sight. backing the body up against it as he points in his eyes. "ye better not be the 'fuckin' new guy' -- 'cause you'll be goin' green in the gills someplace else before long, with that sorta sense." he growls. shaking his head, as the next angry sentence is forced with an edging of their tandem forms backward. jostling against the truck. "just wait till ye lose someone out here, yerself. hope someone else mocks ye for it. now take that disrespectful shite offa' yer face right now . . . or i'll start makin' more noise."

🍒 @designedparadigm ↪ that thing we plotted earlier <3

[mercmenagerie]

Clouds threatening rain sluggishly crawled across a cobalt-coloured sky. Rows of brick-faced buildings seem to huddle hunched together against the impending storm which hangs overhead. Gabled shoulders mesh together in rows of townhouses and small businesses that have the privilege of standing on the main thoroughfare. If one were to glance down any of the side streets, it would become immediately evident that order only exists on this road, and it immediately dissolves into aged and slanted and winding roads that twist back into the bowels of this town. It held all the charms and architectural brands of an old European village even though it was dropped into some far-flung country with all the ingredients for corporate warfare and espionage.

Hands shoved deep into the pockets of a navy blue wool coat, Detrick pulled the stiff collar up against a sudden blustery wind that blew through the long streets of the small town adjacent to their killing fields. Looking around through the round lenses of his glasses, the doctor felt an unwelcomely familiar sensation of those towns that had no idea of the bloodshed happening just a few kilometres away. Have your tea to the sound of artillery, the sight of burning cities, to the smell of spilt oil and gasoline.

Detrick's hands go numb in his pockets as his heart lurches through several heartbeats. Forcing each step forward, the doctor thinks about each breath in and out. Shined boots click against the brick sidewalk that runs down one of the alleyways to a hidden warren of an art district. It's an amusing irony that the red doctor chose a cafe tucked away in such a place. After all, art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.

Knowing this is an exceptionally bad idea, Detrick can at least acknowledge that this meeting will end in bloodshed. Probably not in town. He doesn't expect Ludwig to be that messy with his murder, but there is always the chance. No, if the doctor teases around the edges of possibilities in his mind, two methods might be employed. Poisoning of some kind, a real coward's trick, or when they part ways, Ludwig shoots him. Detrick had already been shot twice before taking this job, and while that pain is always excruciatingly sharp, each time it happens, he can at least breathe through it. Or try, depends on where the bullet hits. The stomach would be least ideal, the chest is a whole mess of problems, and the legs would keep Detrick from running too far so Ludwig could play with his food before killing him.

Mind churning over the clinical aspects of his impending death, Detrick begins to work over all the nasty little things he would do in return to hopefully circumvent what might seem like a set-in-stone fate for himself. Surfacing from the mire of his thoughts just in time to arrive at the rosy-cheeked and welcoming facade of the cafe which had been indicated to him by address, Detrick blinks at it. Fishing the slip of paper out of his pocket and looking at the thin script, he double-checks it and then huffs a mirthless laugh. This place was rather cute. Windows fogged over makes it difficult from the outside looking in to discern any patrons sitting within. Still, several shadows occupied various vaguely shaped objects, which must be tabled.

Combing a hand through his wind-ruffled hair, Detrick pushes open the glass and wood front door and into the warm, humid embrace of the cafe. Now that the doctor can adequately see the finer details of the interior, it's more of a teashop. Easing up a sleeve to check his watch, he's surprised at the amount of people lingering, given that it's nearly eight in the evening. Turning attention back to the shop, which is much deeper than it is wide, the doctor makes a note of the singular tired-looking waitress who lingers behind a long glass display case filled with various pastries that all look almost fake in their perfection. Behind her, a floor-to-ceiling stretch of teas, pots, and cups is arranged by colour, creating a rather aesthetically pleasing riot of colour on the far end of the cafe. He hoped to hell they had coffee back there, too; he wasn't exactly a tea man.

Gaze locks with Ludwig from where Detrick still lingers by the front door, now catching looks from other patrons as they note the newcomer isn't moving to order or join another table. He frowns slightly before advancing to the table.

"This is not a place I would think you enjoy." Detrick comments evenly as he takes a seat across from the other doctor. Warm golden light spilling from shaded lamps overhead livens up the grey in Detrick's hair and smooths the shadows lingering in the long chasm of his scar, which cuts from hairline to jaw through his left eye, blinding him on that side. Yet, this softness is nothing more than a trick of the light, an illusion just like the blunted edges of the other man sitting across from him doesn't fool Detrick into thinking this is anything other than a standoff minus the openly aimed weapons.

"So, tell me, how many different ways have you already considered to bring me back to your dissection table? What instruments are already set out and waiting?" A thin smile crawls across the blue doctor's thin lips. "I've thought of four for you." Perhaps if they got the talks of dismemberment out early enough, they'd be able to talk as two strangers would. That thin gossamer anonymity that was speaking to someone you know who you'll never talk to again after this moment, the kind taxi drivers, park bench companions, and strangers in line at the supermarket afford.

╰┈➤ ❝ @notmedizin [ gets a preplotted starter ]

[lvebug]

an andie eliot reading guide (tags drop pt 1)

[pantoranqira]

"Anakin/Obi Wan/Yoda/Padmé/Shmi is the most tragic character in Star Wars" you are WRONG actually. L3-37 HOWEVER.....

[diffractal]

tag dump.

[65ths]

˗ˏˋ tags ´ˎ˗

[hadersversion]

but daddy i love him!

“no, i’m not coming to my senses. i know he’s crazy but he’s the one i want.”

pairing: rafe cameron x innocent kook!reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut, minors dni!!! dry humping & fingering. corruption kink of sorts (rafe and an innocent reader has taken over me fully i apologize). parental violence/verbal abuse. fighting. rafe showing his true colors but quickly hiding it from the reader because rafe is a big softie for them. pet names (sweetheart, honey, darling, baby, pretty/good girl). aftercare. let me know if i miss any!

mood board!

rafe cameron was bad news.

anyone in the outer banks could tell you that.

he was a fighter, a shit-talker, a guy who you couldn’t trust.

but there was something so intriguing about him that you just couldn’t turn away.

from the day you moved to island almost 10 years ago, you haven’t been able to get him off your mind. you would see him at parties, the country club, when you would hang out with his sister, around town on his motorbike with his buddies. but you had to push that crush deep down because no one in their right mind would go after that boy.

except you.

you stretched yourself on the court, waiting for your dad to come out with drinks before your tennis match. that’s when you saw him and his friends making their way to the locker room. they had just got done their round of golf, you could tell by their bags. you tried not to stare, but your eyes seemed to have a mind of their own.

“hey, y/n.” you heard him call, with a smirk painted across his face.

your face blushed and you waved to him. “hey rafe.” play it cool, play it cool.

you can see him look you up and down, staring at your legs. “nice skirt.”

you looked down at the new, white tennis skirt your dad had bought you for your report card. your fingers found a loose thread, beginning to toy with it to deal with the embarrassment you felt. “t-thanks.”

he nods before looking behind you. “mr. y/l/n.” he nods with a quick wave. you turn around to see your dad with two waters and a stern look on his face. “enjoy your game.” he says before going inside.

your dad stands over you as you sit, handing a water bottle over. “that cameron boy…” he lets out a deep sigh.

“what?” you question, getting up and brushing your legs off.

your dad pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “he’s not the kind of guy you want to be friends with, sweetie. he’s a bad seed.”

“but how do you know that?” you question, trying not to sound too suspicious.

your dad picks up his racket and makes his way over to his side of the net. “i know ward cameron. and i know how rafe is just like his dad, thinks he can get anything he wants. thinks there is no consequences to life. but there is. there always is.” your dad shakes his head. “i saw him beating up some kid here not that long ago. sure, he was a pogue but doesn’t give rafe the right to walk around like the king of the outer banks. but until someone stops him, humbles him, things’ll never change.”

you stand there, uncomfortable. all you wanted to do was defend rafe, though you weren’t close like that. but your dad is a one way street. it’s his way or no way. so all you can do is nod. “oh…okay.” you say simply, getting ready for the match.

“just promise me you won’t get mixed up with the likes of that boy, please?” your father looks sincere.

you bite your lip and look down at your clean, white shoes. “yes sir.”

“good, now watch me beat you in tennis.” he says with a laugh. i fake a smile, getting on with the game, but still have rafe in the back of my mind.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

you didn’t see rafe again until the night of a house party at topper’s house.

your friends and you walk in, buzzed from the pre-game. they immediately all go their separate ways, looking for drinks, boys, or both. this leaves you standing awkwardly by a table, talking to some people from school. they talk about prom, their grades, and teachers, making you mentally check out from the conversation. that’s when he catches your eye, he is talking to topper and kelce with a red solo cup in his hand. you watch his every move, how big and veiny his hands are, practically cover the entire cup. how he constantly pushes his hair back while he talks, almost seeming like a force of habit he has. he also licks his lips a lot, sending a very graphic image of rafe between your le-

he looks up, meeting your gaze. a blush forms on your face as you try to hide your embarrassment but taking a sip of alcohol from your cup. you give yourself some time, staring into the cup before looking up again. but when you look at him, he hasn’t stopped staring at you. the blush you fought so hard to keep away makes your face feel like it’s on fire.

you watch as he excuses himself and makes his way over to you. this has to be a dream? or some prank, right?

“hey there, y/n.” he snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts. every person who you are talking to looks over to rafe then back at you. “didn’t know you were coming.”

you awkwardly shrug. “last minute choice by my friends.”

his eyes burn holes into your body as he looks you up and down. “well, i’m glad you’re here.” you nod at him, offering a shy smile. “looks like you need another drink, come inside and i’ll get you one.” he nods his head towards the kitchen door. the group you're with is watching this conversation like it’s a TV show. you make my way through them and stand next to him. he automatically puts his hand on your back and leads you inside. the feeling of his touch sends chills down your spine but it almost feels like his hand is meant to be there. like his touch is the missing piece in your life.

you get into the kitchen and he heads towards the fridge, grabbing juice and handing it over. “you strike me as a vodka and juice, girl.” he says with a smile, making my insides melt.

“and what makes you say that?” you ask, putting your hand on my hip, playing into his little game of flirting.

“well, you’re sweet and you seem to play it safe. you don’t really drink a lot but when you do, you’re never blacked out.” he admits with a laugh, giving his diagnosis. “juice is sweet and vodka is the safest way to get a little drunk, in my opinion.” he stares at your face, waiting for a response.

“you’re good, rafe cameron. a little too good.” you admit, grabbing the juice and filling up the cup. he stands over you, giving me the vodka next. “didn’t know i was that easy to read.”

“you’re not.” he admits, staring down at you while you drink. “i just think i have a special interest in you.”

you freeze in place, there’s no way he’s admitting this to you. right now. the boy you’ve been pining after since the first grade. you can tell you're shutting down but you need to play it cool. “oh really?” you look up at his blue eyes, getting lost in them instantaneously.

“really.” he steps closer, inches away from my face. you know you are not that drunk but your head feels like it’s spinning under his gaze. he leans in a little closer, your noses brushing, when the kitchen door slams and topper can be seen stumbling in. his obnoxious laugh fills the room, making rafe close his eyes and sigh. “what could you possibly want right now?”

topper laughs and comes up beside rafe, he’s clearly fucked up. “i’m just looking for some weed, man.” he hits his chest playfully. “don’t let me get in your way.”

rafe pushes him away, making topper laugh harder at us. he looks at you before speaking. “sorry for being a cockblock.”

rafe narrows his eyes at him. “just get the fuck outta here, top.”

topper staggers into the other room, still laughing.

“sorry about him. when he drinks, he becomes an asshole.” he says, running a hand across his face.

“is he drunk all the time?” i ask with a new found confidence in my voice.

rafe looks at me and laughs. “seems to be.”

you both stand in silence, not moving away from each other but unable to bring the moment back.

“i like you.” he admits.

you stare at him, unable to speak. “w-what?”

“i think you heard me, y/n.” he smiles cockily, looking into your eyes.

you look back at him. “you barely know me, rafe.”

“doesn’t mean i can’t like you.” he sips his cup and nudges your shoulder with his. “i think you could say the same about me.” he gets closer, whispering into your ear. “don’t think i don’t notice how you stare at me when i’m around.”

you feel the air leave your body and you bite your lip. you feel like your cornered and have nowhere to go. “i-i-uh…”

he brushes his finger against your lip, almost like he’s shushing you. but you can’t even fight the way your body reacts to his touch. “it’s okay, honey. i like it. i like it a lot.” he says in a whisper, almost making you forget you aren’t the only two people in the world. it feels like you can read his mind just by looking into his blue eyes. he wants you…screw that, rafe cameron needs you. and you need him. forget what your father says, or the town, or even your friends. this seems to be all you need.

how am i ever going to recover from this? you thought to yourself.

you hear your friend call your name from outside. rafe looks over as they yell from outside. “i’ll see you around, how’s that sound?” you look at him, unable to think when he looks at you like this. his hand brushes against your face before walking back out into the party.

you stand there, still as your friend comes in. “you alright? looks like you seen a ghost or something.” she asks you, laughing a bit.

“all good.” was all you can get out, staring straight ahead at the door rafe just left in.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

ever since the party, rafe found little ways to be around you.

whether it was joining you at the country club while you played tennis or hanging around you when he saw you at the beach reading. he even started knocking on the front door of your mansion to just talk on your porch, something you had to hide from your dad. with these interactions, you had no idea what everyone was warning you about with him. he was one of the sweetest guys you ever met. for weeks, you and rafe had begun a nice friendship.

but the almost kiss at topper's party was never spoken of again.

the two of you sat on your porch swing, the air was warm as summer was slowly approaching. your legs laid flatly across rafe’s lap, looking directly at him. you poured a glass of lemonade for you both, sparking rafe to hit you with a “you sure you don’t want some vodka in this?”

when you’re with rafe, the conversations seem to just flow like you are the oldest of friends. you could talk about anything and nothing at the same time. he went on for the past five minutes about how he used to love playing lacrosse but one injury affected his whole career for him.

“it sucked, ya know? i never felt like i belonged anywhere, or had a close bond with anyone like i did on that team. then one fucking torn acl later and it’s all gone for me. i had college scouts looking at me and everything. i could’ve escaped this place and lived the real college experience.” he looked out into the water that faced your house. he turned to you and smiled awkwardly. “jeez, i’m sorry i just don’t shut up.”

you chuckle at him, loving how he put some of his walls down around you. “it’s okay, i like hearing ya talk. it’s soothing.” you smile innocently at him.

he gazes into your eyes and nods, his expression softening. “really?” you nod and he just stares at you. “you’re one of a kind, ya know?” his fingers start to rub innocent circles on your leg.

“and why’s that?” you ask him.

“i-i don’t know, i feel like i can be myself around you.” he admits. “don’t ever quote me on that because i’ll deny that shit.” he points, gaining a laugh from you.

“don’t want anyone to know rafe cameron can be a softie?” you tease him.

“shut up, i’m not a softie.”

“i think you can be behind close doors.” you say.

he stops rubbing your leg and turns to you. “oh shut up.”

“well, you’re gonna have to make me then.” you say without thinking.

rafe looks at you with a fire in his eyes that you haven’t seen since the party. “what was that?” he cocks his eyebrow at you.

you just stare into his eyes, straightening your shoulders back. a confidence striking you like never before. “i think you heard me, rafe.”

without missing a beat, rafe connects your lips. all of that pent-up tension, gone within that very second. his hands found his way to your face, cupping it ever so lightly like you were a delicate flower he was so lucky to have found. his hands slowly slid down your body, like he was trying to memorize every inch of your skin. "jesus, this is all i've been thinking about." he said breaking away, looking into your eyes.

"then, don't stop." you say breathlessly, climbing on top of his lap, kissing him again.

you can tell this move took rafe by surprise as he let out a soft moan in the kiss. the innocence he once thought you possessed was now all gone. you slowly began grinding yourself against rafe's clothed cock, which was slightly hardening. "fuck, who knew you had it in you, honey." he said as he kissed down your jaw. you never felt so needier in your life chasing a high with rafe that you thought you could only dream about.

your face blushed as you looked down at rafe who was staring up at you like you were a painting held high in the louvre. the more you looked down, the more self-conscious you became. your pace which was rapidly increasing started to falter. "hey, hey, sweetheart. don't stop now. what's wrong? talk to me." he caressed your face so lovingly.

you bit your lip and closed your eyes, still out of breathe. "i-i-i don't know. what if i'm doing this wrong? or it's weird for you? i'm just nervous, i never did this before."

"did what, sweetheart? dry humped?" he almost laughed, pushing hair out of your face.

you shrugged. "well yes and no..." your voice started to trail off.

"yes and no?" rafe stared at you with a puzzled expression, trying to crack the code. you watched as he deciphered your words and the gears started to turn. "y/n, have you ever been with someone like...sexually before?"

you wanted to cry, the embarrassment being too hard to handle. you just laid your head against rafe's chest and sighed. "please, don't think of me any differently. i just...i just haven't found the right person to do all this with, ya know? i used to be scared but with you...i don't know, i feel ready." rafe sat there in silence, his hands falling to your waist and gripping them. you break away from his chest and stare into his eyes, which have seemed to darken. "rafe?"

"you trust me?" he asks simply. you nod shyly, causing his breath to hitch. you can feel his pants grow tighter under you. "i want you to keep going, do you hear me? don't stop until you cum on my pants." it sounds like he is giving you orders. he brings his thumb across your lip and gives a menacing smirk. "you wanna be all mine, huh? you pretty girl. show me your mine."

with his reassurance, you pick up you begin to rub yourself against his pants. your hands grip his shoulders as he holds you down on him. "good girl, keep it going." the material of his jeans feel rough against your clothed cunt but it adds a sensation you have never felt before. "shit, look at how pretty you look on me. can't wait to bury my cock inside you. would you like that? my cock being so far inside you, you can feel it in your stomach?"

you let out a pathetic whine, your head falling back from the pleasure you have building up inside. "y-yes."

"good girl, but we gotta start with the basics, right?" his hands start to trail up your body, stopping at your closed breasts. he cups them with his hands and smiles when you cry his name. "i got you, baby. c'mon, you know you wanna cum."

you quickly grind against him, feeling desperate as you chase your high. with his words of praise and reassurance, you can feel yourself ready to release. with one quick movement, you feel the tension building up in your stomach release as you cum on rafe. tears prick your eyes as you repeat his name over and over again. "rafe, rafe, rafe."

he stares at you in awe as you finish on him. the sight of your teary eyes and his name falling from your lips in such a needy way pushed him over the edge. he found himself cumming in his pants like he was a high schooler all over again.

you both stayed there, out of breathe, not moving once. you felt like a whole new person even though barely anything has changed.

"you alright?" he asks, pushing hair away from your face.

you tiredly nod, not knowing how to form words. your hooded eyes just take in the view of rafe, his face read and sweaty with a cocky smirk painted across it.

he bites his lip and kisses you gently. "there's more where that came from, you know?" he says and your head reels. "i've been waiting for so long to have you to myself, sweetheart. i don't plan on letting go now."

you giggle into his chest and nod. "don't gotta worry about me leaving, trust me. i've never felt so good in my life." the sweet yet sensual moment you two shared came to a halt when you heard your dad's truck pulling up the gravel road to your house. "shit." you quickly climb off rafe, trying to compose yourself.

your father quickly exited the truck, slamming the door behind him. he seemed to race up to the two of you as you sat there. rafe's hand protectively went over yours as your father approached. "the hell is he doing here?" he fumes.

"d-dad, we're just hanging out." you lie to his face.

"yes sir, that's all we were doing." rafe says camly, looking at him in the eyes.

your father head snaps towards rafe. "was i talking to you, boy? no. stay outta it." his attention focuses back to you. "i told you to not mess with the likings of this boy and what do you do behind my back?" he screams at you. "you go around with this...this hooligan! i want him off my property now. acting like some easy girl, i raised you better."

"b-but, daddy." you pout, trying not to cry as rafe squeezes your hand.

"sir, you're being too hard on her. it's not her fault." rafe tries to calm him down.

your father's finger rests on rafe's chest as he gets close to his face. "oh i know that, rafe. it's you and your typical bullshit. my daughter wouldn't act this way if it wasn't for you. look at you, you're probably using her."

rafe's fists clenched as your father talks down to him, no one does this to him and gets away with it. "sir, i suggest you put that finger down."

"or what?" your father snickers in his face.

rafe's whole demeanor shifts, the sweet boy you were just talking to now gone. like he was never even there. it honestly scared you how fast rafe can change personalities. "you don't even want to know." he grits his teeth. you hate to admit the affect this took on your body, clenching your legs together.

your father drops his finger and turns to you. "inside, now." he says, grabbing your arm. before you can fight him off, he's dragging you away from rafe.

"it's okay, baby, we'll figure this out." he reassures as you are being brought into your house. "fuck!" he screams as soon as the door slams shut.

you watch as rafe makes his way to his truck, slamming the door shut and driving away. you turn to your father who just stares at you as you cry. "screw you!" you say before running upstairs and locking yourself in your room.

you finally had him and now you lost him.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

the days past since you saw rafe.

your father grounded you and cut you off from the outside world.

you sat by your window and waited, having some false hope that rafe would be your knight in shining armor and take you away from this place. your father pulled up the driveway and seemed to struggle getting out of his truck.

you met him at the door, ready to deal with the bullshit he would throw you today. when you opened your door, your father seemed battered and bruised.

"holy sh-i mean...what happened?" you asked, holding the door open for your dad as he sat on the recliner.

"nothing." he shuttered. "nothing happened."

you stood there and crossed your arms. "clearly something happened."

he shook his head, seeming almost fearful. "nothing happened, now drop it." you stood there as he turned to you. "you aren't grounded anymore. your phone is on my dresser." he seemed almost defeated.

you stared at your dad trying to understand what the hell is going on. are you in the twilight zone? you knew you wouldn't get an answer out of him so you grabbed your things and raced out of the house before he could change his mind. the sun was setting but you didn't care, you had one thing and one thing only on your mind.

you got on your bike and raced towards tannyhill. when you finally got there, you threw your bike down and almost ran to the front door. with two knocks, wheezie opened the door.

"y/n?" she said with a smirk.

"hey, wheezie, is rafe home?" you say, snooping around the insides of the home.

she rolls her eyes and opens the door. "in his room."

you walk up the stairs and stop right before his door. your fist hovering over it before connecting it to the wood. after a few seconds, rafe stands there in the almost dark room.

"y/n." he says, almost as though he was expecting you to be here.

you quickly jump into his arms, holding onto him by his neck. you missed this. the way he smelled, the way he felt, everything about this boy drive you wild. "i missed you."

"i missed you too, honey. come on in." he lets you into his room. this was your first time being in here. sure, you've seen it through snapchat and pictures he sends but that's it. it's the typical boy room but it felt authentic. it felt like rafe.

you sit down on his bed as he walks around, picking up clothes off the floor. "didn't think i'd be having guests." he doesn't seem like his usual self, maybe you caught him at a bad time? but he invited you in, so you stayed.

you laugh at him. "no big deal, the old man let me off the hook tonight. it was weird, he came home all messed up. i tried asking but he kinda pushed me away. it was weird."

rafe stood there, silently. "oh really?"

"yeah, super strange. he's not usually the fighter type. never has been." you watch him stand there. "you all good?"

he nods and turns to you. "i am, now that you're here."

you smile at him as he approaches you. you open your legs so he can stand in between them, looking down at you. he traces your face with his finger, stopping at your lips. "all mine, sweetheart. all mine." he says before bending down to kiss you. the kiss feels rough, almost as though you are a fresh breathe of air that rafe has been waiting for. he pushes you down onto his bed and crawls on top of you.

you break the kiss and look into his eyes, his room is dark so you can only make out certain features. but you bring your hand to his face and hold his cheek, which makes him wince. "oh, i'm sorry, did i hurt you?"

"n-no, it's all good." he tries to kiss you again but you stop him.

"rafe?" you ask him, making him stop once again. "what's wrong? tell me."

"goddamn! nothing is wrong, okay? i can't miss you." he says, running a hand through his hair. you try to study his face but can't even see him. you reach over for his bedside lamp. "no, no, leave it of-" before he can stop you, the light is on. his beautiful face has a large bruise under his right eye and cheek. his lip busted and knuckles bruised.

"rafe?" you question, sitting up.

"y/n, i can explain." he pleads.

then it all makes sense. your father coming home all battered and bruised, rafe's current state, you being let off the hook too easily.

"you don't even want to know."

"it's okay, baby, we'll figure this out."

his words from that night ring through your head. the way his whole demeanor changed that night into a person you've never seen before.

"d-did you?" you ask with teary eyes.

"baby, look at me. i can explain." he begs you but you start to get up.

"explain what? how you beat up my fucking dad!?" you yelled, trying to grasp the millions of thoughts you had. "h-how could you?" you stand by his door, pacing, with your head in your hands.

he walks up to you, grabbing your hand. "look at me, honey, please. look at me." he begs you, trying to grab your attention.

when you finally turn to him, you see the cuts and bruises again. "rafe, why?" you say with a tear slipping down.

"because i love you, honey. you're my girl and i don't give a fuck who it is, they cannot talk to you the way your own father did. calling you easy, acting like your dumb for being around me. nobody should ever talk to you like that, ever." you stop and he cups your face in his hands. "i just wanted to talk to him, okay? all i wanted to do was talk. but then he started again with how i'm a bad person and how you were being stupid for even acknowledging me. he said he didn't need a guy like me corrupting his daughter and i snapped."

you gazed into his eyes, they looked as though they were pleading with you to see why he did what he did.

"please, say something. please." he states.

you sigh and close your eyes. "rafe, i don't need you going around defending my honor, especially to my dad. it's not worth it."

"not worth it? sweetheart, look at me." you open your eyes. "you are worth everything to me, you hear me? everything. i would kill for you if you asked me to. i never had someone care for me the way you do, have someone listen to me, or even treat me normally. you mean the world to me, y/n. i love you."

and there it was.

rafe cameron, for once in his life, showed affection.

he told someone they love them.

"i'm sorry it was your dad, okay? sometimes, i black out and can't remember things when i'm angry. i act on my impulses. but with you, i never feel that way." he shakes his head, trying to contain all his emotions. your eyes water again, causing him to wipe the tears. "what's wrong, baby? talk to me."

you smile through the tears. "i just, i love you too." no one has ever made you feel so safe and loved in one moment than rafe has this past month. he's all you could ever ask for.

he beams down at you, shaking his head. "you mean that?"

"with every ounce of my body, i love you." you admit.

his heart swelled as he connected your lips once more to his. you were all his, all he ever needed in life to feel whole.

rafe pushes you against the door, a light moan slipping from your lips as he presses himself against you.

"you like that?" he asks, a satisfied smirk on his face as he kisses your cheek and goes down your neck.

you nod under his touch, like you're cast in his spell. "y-yes."

"you want more?" he asks, sucking on one spot of your neck for a long time. all you can do is nod, already becoming a mess because of him. he pulls away, having you almost whimper from the lack of contact. "not uh, baby, gotta hear some words out of that beautiful mouth of yours. i'll repeat myself, do you want more."

"y-yes, rafe, yes please."

he groans at your begging and nods. "good girl." he pulls you over to the bed and guides you toward it. you feel the bed hit the back of your knees and you sit down, looking up at him. he quickly takes his shirt off and tosses it to the side.

he kisses your lips lightly as his hands find the end of your shirt, lightly toying with the fabric. "y-you can take it off." with the reassurance, he slips the top off and leaves it next to you. his eyes take in your body, your breasts pooling out of a flimsy green bralette. he sucks his tongue and gently runs his fingers over your tits.

"so pretty and they're all for me." he slowly reaches behind your back and unclasps the bralette with one hand, letting it fall down your body. you could swear rafe has tiny hearts in his eyes as they bore onto your half-naked body. "lay down." you follow his orders and lay against his pillows. his bedroom light shines over his features and the cuts from the fight. you bring your hand up to touch them and he gives into your touch. "you okay?"

"more than okay." you tell him.

he kisses your hand then his lips meet with yours once again. he then lets his lips trail across your cheek, jaw, neck, and down to your chest. he stares at your tits before peppering them both with kisses. he then takes one nipple in his mouth, slowly, and grabs your other one with your free hand to give a squeeze. your body instantaneously reacts to rafe's touch, moaning at the sensation of his lips. "you like that, huh?" he almost teases, switching to the other nipple.

"m-more." you whisper out, clenching your eyes.

"what was that, honey? need you to speak up for me." he grins.

"please, i want more, rafe. touch me more." you raise your voice.

"you got it." his hand leaves your tit and trails slowly down your body, resting at the hem of your jeans. he unbuttons them and lets his hands slide down your underwear, his hands automatically getting soaked. "shit, baby, all this for me?" he runs ins finger down your cunt and gathering your slick, bringing it to his mouth. he sucks it off his fingers as you watch in awe. "you're just too sweet for me, you know that?"

he doesn't even give you time to think before he puts his fingers back inside you, swirling your cunt. your hands grab his shoulders, holding onto them for dear life. "it's okay, i got ya, i always got ya." he reassures as he slowly slips one finger into your tight hole. "jesus, honey, with a hole this tight i don't know how long i'll last." he says as he slips his finger in and out of you, his thumb still toying with your clit.

your head falls back as more moans fall from your lips. "more, rafe, please give me more."

he laughs slightly. "cocky little thing, aren't ya? if you insist." he adds one more finger, your hole clenching around him as his finger slip in and out. "look how pretty you look with my fingers inside of you." he says before kissing your mouth, collecting your moans. you're so wet you hear the noises your pussy is making around him. you feel overstimulated as rafe keeps going, not stopping once. tears prick your eyes as you feel your high approaching. his thumb rubs harder as your nails connect to rafe's chest, dragging them down. "my pretty baby, i just love you so much." he says, staring at you.

with those words, you feel yourself being pushed to pleasure. you cum all over rafe's fingers, crying out his name. "rafe!"

he lets you ride out your high before taking his fingers out and putting them in his mouth like he did before. "never gonna get tired of that."

he gets up and heads to the bathroom. you want to talk to him, ask him where he's going, but you're too tired. you've never felt this good, not even from your own fingers. rafe comes back with a towel in his hand, gently, he pulls off your shorts and panties, cleaning off your pussy. the water is nice and warm as he gets you situated. he drops the rag and crawls into his bed next to you, holding you tightly.

"you know, if you want me to go dow-" but before you can finish that sentence he kisses your forehead.

"no need to rush there, honey. i wanna take my time with you, wanna show you how good i can make you feel." your heart melts in your chest as he rubs your back lightly. "get some rest, alright?"

you fall asleep fast in his arms, he holds you there the entire night and doesn't plan on letting go.

[nxttheendxfthestxry]

“All right, then let the games begin.”

[xoamiiren]

FORGIVE AND FORGET , ⋆｡°✩ 𓈒𓈒 silly arguments

𖥔 PRECIS. In which, they try to ignore you after a petty dispute. PAIRING. sulky bf!enha x sorry gf!reader GENRE. fluff WARNINGS. skinship, mild kissing, post argument, petnames

authors note ୨୧ they’re all whipped for (y/n) 🧸

─────────

HEESEUNG

The silence in the apartment was thick, almost suffocating. You had been tiptoeing around it for hours, trying to ignore the gnawing ache in your chest. But as time passed, the weight of Heeseung's absence, even though he was just a few rooms away, became unbearable.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. You took a deep breath and left your room, determined to make things right.

The soft glow of the gaming room greeted you as you stepped inside. Heeseung sat at his desk, headphones snug over his ears, fingers deftly moving across his controller. His eyes were glued to the screen, but you knew him well enough to see the tension in his posture—the slight furrow of his brows, the way his jaw was clenched just a little too tight.

You approached quietly, trying to gauge his mood as you stood behind him. The sounds of an in-game explosion filled the air, and you pretended to be interested, your gaze lingering on the screen. But it was no use—Heeseung didn't acknowledge you, his cold shoulder a sharp reminder of the earlier argument.

Enough was enough.

With a small sigh, you reached out and gently turned his chair toward you. His eyes flickered with surprise, but his expression remained stubbornly neutral, his gaze sliding away as if you weren't even there.

You didn't let it deter you. Leaning down, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, then another to the other side. When he continued to ignore you, you moved closer, placing tender kisses along his jawline, silently pleading for his attention. Heeseung turned his face away, his resistance wavering but still there.

A faint smirk played at the corners of your lips. You weren't giving up that easily.

You lowered your lips to his neck, brushing them against his skin, feeling the slight shiver that ran through him. He tensed, but you could sense the walls he'd built around himself starting to crumble. You pressed on, kissing the warm skin of his collarbone, peeking out from the edge of his hoodie.

Heeseung's breath hitched, and you felt his resolve begin to melt away, his shoulders relaxing as he subconsciously leaned into your touch. Still, he tried to hold onto his anger, his hands gripping the controller as if it were the last line of defense.

But you knew you'd won when his character faltered on the screen, losing the match in a flash of red. He let out a frustrated sigh, finally meeting your gaze. The anger in his eyes had softened, replaced by something warmer, something that spoke of surrender.

Without a word, Heeseung wrapped his arms around you, pulling you down onto his lap. The tension between you dissolved in an instant, replaced by a comforting sense of closeness.

"You’re impossible, you know that?" he murmured, his voice low and affectionate as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent.

You chuckled softly, your fingers threading through his hair as you settled into his embrace. "But you still love me."

Heeseung grip tightened around you, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I do."

JAY

Jay had been avoiding you all day. When you tried to cuddle him in bed that morning, he rolled right out, leaving you alone with the cold sheets. When you tried to sit and listen to him play his guitar, he sighed, put it away, and left the room without a word. Now, he was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hair falling into his focused, hard eyes as he chopped vegetables for dinner.

You couldn’t stand the silence anymore. With a determined shuffle, you made your way into the kitchen, standing beside him. The rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the cutting board filled the room, but all you could focus on was the distance between you two. You watched the way his jaw tensed, the way his hands moved with precision, and it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

Finally, you groaned softly and latched onto him from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Jay," you whispered, but he didn’t respond. You squeezed tighter, hoping to break through the barrier he had put up.

"Jay…" you tried again, sliding your hands up under his shirt, resting them on his chest. You couldn’t see it, but his breath hitched, and a blush crept up his cheeks.

"I'm sorry…" you muttered, voice filled with genuine regret. The sound of chopping stopped, and the room fell silent. Slowly, Jay turned to face you, his expression softened, the hard edges of his irritation melting away.

“That’s all I wanted to hear, baby,” he murmured, pulling you into a warm embrace.

The tension dissolved as he held you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The argument felt like a distant memory as you found comfort in each other's arms, the quiet kitchen now filled with the warmth of forgiveness.

JAKE

You knock gently on Jake's door, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment. No answer. A pang of guilt twists in your chest as you slowly turn the handle and peek inside. Jake is curled up on his bed, his back to the door, the soft glow of the setting sun casting a warm hue across the room.

Taking a deep breath, you slip inside and quietly close the door behind you. The bed dips slightly as you crawl in beside him, but he shifts away, his silent rejection a small but painful sting. You try to wrap your arm around his waist, hoping for just a little closeness, but he pushes it off with a huff, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

You sigh softly, rolling over to face the opposite direction, feeling the heavy weight of the silence between you. The minutes tick by slowly, each one a reminder of the distance that shouldn’t be there.

Just when the silence starts to feel unbearable, you feel Jake’s arms snake around your waist, pulling you back toward him in a tight embrace.

His breath is warm against your neck as he whispers, voice tinged with frustration and affection, “I can’t! I can’t stay mad at you…”

A soft giggle escapes your lips, the tension in your chest easing as you lean back into him. “I’m sorry, Jake…”

He squeezes you a little tighter, his voice softening, “I know, love. I know.”

In that moment, wrapped in each other's arms, the petty argument fades into the background, leaving only the warmth of your connection, stronger than ever.

SUNGHOON

Sunghoon could outlast anyone in the silent treatment game, and right now, he was proving it. It was day three of his cold shoulder, and you were growing more frustrated by the hour. Unlike him, you couldn’t stand to let an argument linger for more than a few hours, but Sunghoon? He was the Ice Prince, and he wore that title with pride.

This morning, you decided to take matters into your own hands. If words wouldn’t thaw him out, maybe a more direct approach would. After he left for a bit, you took the time to get dolled up, wearing the dress you knew he adored, with your hair perfectly styled and a hint of his favorite perfume lingering in the air.

When Sunghoon returned, you greeted him with a soft smile, hoping to see some sign of forgiveness in his eyes and admiration for his pretty girlfriend. But instead of acknowledging you, he glanced your way, then walked straight past you and out to the balcony with a book in hand.

Your frustration peaked. You had tried everything—apologies, subtle hints, even this!—and yet he still acted like nothing had happened. As you watched him settle into a chair outside, calmly opening his book, you finally snapped.

You marched out onto the balcony, snatching the book from his hands with a huff.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression…expectant? Surprised. Then, to your utter confusion, he smirked and let out a quiet laugh.

“What’s so funny?” you demanded, feeling your anger and confusion mix.

He leaned back in his chair, a playful glint in his eyes. “I forgave you two days ago... I just wanted to see how long you could go like this. Impressive, love.”

Your mouth fell open in disbelief. “You mean—”

Sunghoon shrugged, his smirk widening. “I knew you wouldn’t last as long as me.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Hoon… that’s so stupid.”

“Maybe,” he said, his tone softening as he reached for your hand. “But it’s kind of fun, isn’t it?”

Rolling your eyes, you sat down beside him. “Next time, just tell me you forgive me, okay?”

“Alright,” he chuckled, pulling you close.

You handed him his book back, and together, you settled into a comfortable silence. As you leaned against him, the tension finally faded away, replaced by the warmth of his presence. Reading together, the world around you seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you on that peaceful balcony.

SUNOO

You hesitated outside the bathroom, listening to the faint sound of Sunoo humming softly as he went through his nightly skincare routine. You knew he was still upset, but you couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked when he was focused, even if he was giving you the cold shoulder.

Gathering your courage, you pushed the door open and stepped inside, hoping to join him for the last part of his routine, a ritual you both cherished. However, the moment you entered, he pulled off his sheet mask with a swift motion.

“I’m finished,” he mumbled, his tone clipped, before he brushed past you, leaving the bathroom.

You sighed, feeling the weight of the silent treatment as you watched him walk away. Not willing to give up, you followed him into the living room where he was already curled up on the couch, surrounded by an array of snacks, ready to watch his favorite drama.

You crept closer, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, before softly asking, “Can I watch with you?”

Sunoo shrugged, rolling his eyes slightly, but you noticed how he scooted over to make room for you. It was a small gesture, but it gave you hope. You pouted softly as you settled beside him, the space between you feeling like a chasm.

The drama played on the screen, but the tension between you both was hard to ignore. The silence stretched on, making the atmosphere even more awkward.

Finally, Sunoo turned to you, his gaze serious and alittle sad. “I didn’t like what you did, baby… it wasn’t nice.”

His words were gentle, but you could hear the hurt behind them. You bit your lip, feeling a pang of guilt.

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his in a soft, apologetic kiss, “I know, Sun… I’m so sorry.”

He looked at you for a moment, searching your eyes, before finally softening. His arm slipped around you, pulling you closer as he let out a small sigh.

“Just don’t do that again, okay?“

You nodded, snuggling into his side, relief washing over you as he pressed play on the drama. The warmth of his embrace and the familiar sound of the TV made everything feel right again. The argument was forgotten as you both got lost in the show, the comfort of being together making the night feel perfect once more.

JUNGWON

Jungwon was upstairs in his bedroom, the soft sound of pencil on paper the only noise breaking the silence. He was hunched over his sketchbook, eyebrows furrowed as he worked on a drawing—something he often did when upset. And right now, you were the reason for his frustration.

You took a deep breath, hesitating outside his door before gently pushing it open. His gaze flicked toward you for the briefest moment before he returned to his sketch, pointedly ignoring your presence. The tension in the room was thick, making your heart ache with guilt.

Stepping fully inside, you spotted a stack of scrap paper on his desk. An idea sparked, and you grabbed a piece, quickly doodling a tiny strawberry with a smiley face and little arms, dancing cheerfully across the page. In a small speech bubble, you wrote, "Jungwon, I'm sorry, and I love you."

Gathering your courage, you crumpled the paper into a ball and, with a playful smirk, tossed it at his head. It bounced off lightly, causing him to pause. Jungwon glanced over at the crumpled paper before picking it up and smoothing it out. When he saw the doodle, the corners of his mouth twitched, fighting back a smile.

He scribbled something on the paper before tossing it back to you. Unfolding it, you found his response: a doodle of a sulking Jungwon with crossed arms and the words, "You better be."

You giggled, grabbing another piece of paper. This time, you drew a tiny version of yourself with big puppy dog eyes, holding a sign that read, "Forgive me?" You sent it flying toward him.

Jungwon caught it, his resolve cracking as a small laugh escaped him. He grabbed his pencil again, quickly sketching a doodle of the two of you, now with a heart between your cartoonish figures. He added a note: "Only because you’re cute."

You beamed, heart swelling with relief and affection. Without thinking, you rushed over to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind. “I really am sorry, Jungwon,” you whispered, resting your cheek against his.

He finally turned to look at you, his expression softening. “I know,” he said, his voice gentle as he pulled you into his lap. “But next time, don’t make me wait so long to forgive you.”

You nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Of course not.”

He smiled, pulling you close as the two of you settled into a comfortable cuddle, the earlier tension melting away as you both laughed about your silly doodles. The argument was forgotten, replaced by the warmth of being wrapped up in each other’s arms.

NI-KI

Ni-ki’s usually playful and laid-back demeanor was nowhere to be found as he sulked in his room, still miffed from your earlier argument. But you had a plan—you knew just how to get him to forgive you. When you found him playing music on his speaker, you flopped beside him on the bed, flashing a smile.

“I like this song,” you chirped, hoping to break the ice.

Ni-ki didn’t say a word. Instead, he quirked a brow and hit the next button on his phone, the song switching immediately. You suppressed a grin at his pettiness but refused to give up. It was later in the day when he moved on to practicing dance moves in front of his mirror, you tried to join in, matching his rhythm with exaggerated precision.

He stopped mid-dance, a sigh escaping his lips as he grabbed his water bottle and headed out of the room, leaving you standing there with an amused expression.

The final act of your mission came when you found him sprawled on the couch with headphones on, eyes closed. Without hesitation, you gently flipped onto his chest, resting your head there and closing your eyes. You felt his body tense beneath you, but he didn’t push you away.

After a moment, he grunted, pulling his headphones down around his neck as he wrapped his arms around you, unable to resist any longer.

“You’re annoying as hell…” he muttered, voice laced with defeat.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement, snuggling closer, knowing you’d won him over.

[winterzsurprise]

Ride me? || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara (Spider-Man 2099) x F!reader

Tags: Overstimulation, rough sex, choking, squirting, vaginal fingering, big dick Miguel, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), fang kink if you squint.

Words: 1.8k

Summary: Just when you thought he's exhausted enough from chasing Miles Morales and had given you the chance to actually ride him, Miguel has other plans.

This man evokes something so feral in me that I forgot I was suffering through the worst writer's block. He got me giggling and twirling my hair yesterday at the cinema wtf. I used my very limited Mexican Spanish knowledge from watching streamers flirting in a block game for this.

cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || mi amor - my love || guapito - handsome

Miguel isn't the type to let someone control the pace, even if he did, his hands grounded on your waist would soon guide your hips into a rhythm he prefers, hard and fast.

You've been hearing the ruckus down the spider webs, something about another version rebelling against the usual stories of every Spider-Man in the multiverse to save his dad. Knowing that your husband sits at the top as their leader, you expected him to disappear for a long period of time.

Not that you mind of course, he's had plenty of times he charges in to handle an anomaly himself.

You do have to give some kudos to the kid for trying to change reality though. After Miguel's story, nobody in the headquarters, even you, dared to defy the fates laid upon every Spider-Man.

It's been three days since he left and honestly, you didn't expect him to arrive yet. A person deterring from the fates of every Spider-Man would be hard to handle, you couldn't even imagine how difficult it'd be.

So when the doors to your apartment flew open and came to him, practically drooping from exhaustion, you were surprised.

He came earlier than expected.

"How'd the chase go?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Come here." 

Drying your hands off on the towel hanging from the wall counter, you made your way to the man laid spread and heaving on the couch. His head tipped back with his usually neatly gelled hair now haggard and messy, he looked up when he sensed your presence and immediately pulled you onto his lap.

You laughed. "Don't fall asleep here, I don't want to carry your heavy ass."

His lips tugged into a weak smile, his pointy canines briefly appearing.

"Spider-Man is supposed to help the weak, are you really ignoring a civilian in need?"

You didn't get what he meant until he pulled your hips closer, dragging your core over the tent on his pants.

You hit his arm. "Go to sleep, you must've been really tired after chasing that kid around."

"Then ride me."

You paused before narrowing your eyes at him. He's baiting you with the very thing you've wanted to do since the beginning. But the dark cloud of lust in his eyes somehow convinced you of his genuineness.

His talons dug onto your flesh, hard enough to take control of your hips to grind on top of his dick sensually while keeping eye contact with yours. You couldn't ignore the pleasure and jolts of heat electrifying and burning your nerve endings alight at every drag of your heat over his.

"I want to feel you baby, I miss you so much."

Miguel pushes you down on his hardness and you moan, the feeling of his girth finding home between your legs shot electric pleasure down your spine.

"You are a convincing man."

"And you love it."

You lunged for a kiss and instantly, one of his hands threaded itself onto the back of your head, locking you in place as your lips danced against each other in a fierce battle. The raw hunger after being starved for a week now surfacing and consuming you both, mind and body. 

His other hand guided your hips up and down his clothed dick, his deep groans and growl lit fireworks in you, igniting your determination to coax more of them out of his lips.

"Get rid of the pants or I'll rip it off of you."

"Rip it then."

He didn't need to hear you twice. 

In one quick motion, he tore your sweatpants into two before doing the same thing to your panties and throwing them somewhere in the room. He groaned as his head fell onto the crook of your neck, hands crawling up to cup your breasts before your top and bra suffered the same fate as your other clothing.

"The pants, only the pants! I loved that bra!"

"I'll buy you something better, from another universe even." He responded, almost breathless as your scent invaded every speck of his senses. Miguel groaned. "Fuck, I miss this scent of yours baby."

"I don't care, get rid of the suit."

His attire dissolved into thin air and retracted back to god-knows-where, revealing his ruffled shirt and grey sweatpants that did nothing but proclaim his clear desire for you.

"Let me prep you real good, huh?"

Retracting his talons, two of his fingers delved into your heat, immediately drenching itself with your arousal and he groaned.

"So wet for me, mi amor."

"Only for you, guapito."

Two of his digits rolled your clit sensually and with the dexterity of an experienced man, urging more of your arousal to coat his fingers further. Once he was satisfied with the amount of fluid now dripping into his pants, he wandered lower and lower until he plunged his index in, curling it up so deliciously you moaned and grinded your hips onto the slow plunge of his hand.

His eyes watched your heat like a ravenous man holding back, the feral look on his face only pulled you closer to the edge.

And it's only a finger in.

"So tight, mi vida. You treat me so well."

He added two fingers in and you screamed, his pace now rapidly gaining speed. Your eyes rolled back as your hips thrashed and clumsily followed his thrusts, there was nothing else that mattered more than coming for your darling in that moment.

Miguel groaned, watching your face twist into the most sinful display of pleasure he has ever seen. The pride and smugness from knowing it was all because of him made him smile.

Only he could see you in such a state and no one else.

You clenched around his digits, tempting him to finally take the dive. Although his fingers coaxed pleasure out of you with no problem, you missed the feeling of his dick carving your insides, stretching you thin and reminding your cunt who it belongs to.

But Miguel ignored the bait and instead hastened up while curling up to push on your g-spot. You almost blacked out from the euphoria he feeds you, a coil in your stomach tightened and you moaned.

"I'm cl-close… Fuck!"

"Give it to me baby, I want it all."

It didn't last long until the coil exploded and your arousal squirts out of your cunt to drench Miguel's shirt, whose gaze turned a shade darker at the scene when you peered down to meet his gaze.

A tense atmosphere rose from his mere gaze and goosebumps prickled your skin. Your heartbeat jumped through the roofs as you stared back at his dark eyes, he triggered your spidey sense.

And for some sick reason, it only ignited the simmering arousal in the pits of your abdomen.

"Fuck the ride, you're not getting up until I say so, cariño."

You barely sensed him flipping you both, with you now seated and spread on the sofa while he stood in front of you, hastily removing his remaining clothing as if it angered him.

It didn't take long until his hand cautiously wrapped around your neck and his other, pinning your hips as he plunged himself deep into your cunt. You screamed as he pushed more of him, inch by inch. He stretched you out to the point of no return, the burn of his cock carving you open once more made you light-headed.

And he loves nothing more but seeing the cock-drunk look on your face.

Miguel grinned, his fangs protruding so attractively. "God, I love how fucked you look for me, cariño. Give me more."

He pulls and plunged himself back in, shooting hot white pleasure in your body. Miguel didn't wait long before his usual hard and rough pace started. The hand around your throat tightened and your mind turned woozy from the lack of oxygen, his thrust taking your breath away only evoking the feeling of nirvana within you.

He drove in you hard and quick enough you can distantly hear the couch legs wincing as it gets pushed back with every plunge of his dick.

"Fuck…!"

"That's right darling, I'm fucking my sweet cariño open and wide for me."

The electric shocks the head of his cock briefly grazing the head of your uterus sent your legs flailing on his sides. Growing bothered by them, he halts to rest them on his wide shoulders and wraps his arm around your thigh before entering somehow deeper into you.

Your hands found his meaty thigh and dug itself onto it and it encouraged him to go even faster, pushing you closer to the edge and you swore you could see the pearly gates of the heavens.

"I'm co-coming…! Miguel!"

"Give it to me baby, you know how much I love seeing you convulse so helplessly around me."

The hand on your throat left to find purchase on your clit, rubbing you as fast his cock plunges into you.

With a scream, you came. 

Your legs trembled violently on his shoulder as more of your arousal spurts out of your heat, white hot pleasure burned and stirred every nerve ending awake as your eyes rolled back.

But this doesn't seem to be enough for Miguel who only took a break to see your thighs convulse before continuing his thrusts.

You hit his thighs as he kickstarted another orgasm now bubbling in the pit of your stomach but he paid no heed. 

Not that you minded of course, if anything, it only pleases the sick bastard in your head, wishing to be used and fucked so well by your husband like it's your sole purpose.

"I'm so close, baby. Can you give me another one? Surely you can, right?"

His fingers rubbed your clit to the point of pain yet it somehow enhanced the pleasure growing larger in your chest and you screamed. Miguel bent down to rest his sweaty forehead on your shoulder, in the clouded state you were in, you could make out the sharp points of his canines pushing down your skin.

The threat of his bite shot jolts down to your heavily beaten cunt, once again tightening its coil. The frequent groans and low growls escaping his lips alone told you he's near to climax.

And with that, he's dragging you down with him.

"Please please please, give it to me…!"

"Yes, cariño. Anything, Anything for you."

With a couple of thrust, scorching hot explodes inside of you and Miguel slows down, almost into a halt as he rides down his high. The face of pure unadulterated ecstasy painting his face, along with his fingers, you came with another shout.

When he's calmer, he lets his sweaty body fall into your arms before reaching around to do the same. 

As your breathing returns to normal and the fog in your head clears, Miguel places a gentle kiss on your temple and cheeks.

"I love you so much, cariño."

"I love you more, guapito."

[zkg2318]

Corporate Life pt 3

genre/tags ✶ MDNI office!au, sunghoon x afab!reader x heeseung, smut, cursing, not proofread, polyamory (surprise)

synopsis ✶ working in corporate was supposed to be boring, not a guessing game of whether your two coworkers were eye fucking you or not.

smut warnings ✶ unprotected penetrative sex (no!), spitting, thigh riding, oral male!receiving, msm (frottage, oral, kissing), double penetration, overstimulation, use of pet names, squirting, ass slapping, threesome

corporate life taglist/ppl that wanted pt3: @17ericas, @hyuukas, @jakeslvt, @heesimp, @hooniedips, @yuniesluv, @yvnempire, @anoranorastar

permanent taglist: @kittys00, @ikaw-at-ikaw

read part 1 here | read part 2 here

A/N sorry for reposting, i think tumblr may have messed up the tags

Waking up was always a challenge for Heeseung, preferring to sleep in rather than wake up at 5:45 a.m. for work. He was, inherently, not a morning person based on the way he fought with Sunghoon every morning before going to work, begging for just five more minutes. Luckily, it was the start of a long weekend, which meant Heeseung could sleep in till nine if he wanted, ten if he was feeling lucky. But Sunghoon was an early riser and often dragged him out of bed by 8:30 a.m., something about enjoying the morning rays together. On a rare occasion like today though, the two men were together in bed with their limbs entangled beneath the comforter. “Heeseung,” Sunghoon mutters, pressing his face into Heeseung’s naked chest.

“What is it, baby?” he hums, threading his long fingers through his boyfriend’s black hair.

“We have to clock in some overtime this weekend.”

Upon hearing the words ‘overtime,’ Heeseung pops upright immediately, a sour expression appearing on his face at the mere mention of work slipping from Sunghoon’s mouth. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, we’ve been a bit distracted at work. You know, with a certain someone.” He mutters, nuzzling into Heeseung’s lap now.

That much was true- they were distracted. Heeseung and Sunghoon weren’t exactly non-monogamous; but the idea of adding another person into their relationship never really crossed their minds, until you showed up. The second you joined their team at work a few months ago, there was a mutual attraction between the boys that neither of them could ignore.

At first, it was casual. They agreed to approach you with the sole intention of having a no-strings attached sexual relationship with you. It wasn’t supposed to go beyond that- just fuck and work. After the second hookup, Sunghoon and Heeseung revealed to you that they were dating and let you know that they wanted to keep things with you purely physical- even if they secretly wanted something more, but neither of them would admit it in fear of ruining things. That was fine with you- the stress of your job was already building up and you needed a quick fix.

But as the months went by, the lines between casual and something more began to blur. Your impulsive, adrenaline induced hookups were beginning to feel more than that. You found yourselves sharing inside jokes and personal secrets over post-sex meals- conversations you wouldn’t be sharing with fuck buddies. But despite that growing connection, none of you pushed for anything more. Whether it was in fear of complicating things or just wanting to keep emotions out of it, the status quo remained.

Your friendship between Sunghoon and Heeseung remained completely separate from your sexual relationship while your budding romance stayed buried under six feet of dirt.

“I didn’t think we were that behind, what’s a little fucking got to do with our work?” Heeseung jokes, stroking Sunghoon’s cheek while ignoring the aching alarm bells ringing in his head.

“We’re behind on our financial report, Namjoon sent an email saying we have to get it in to him on Monday evening.” Heeseung groans at the idea of working over the long weekend, but Sunghoon continues, “And Y/n was cc’d on the email.”

A mix of amusement and stress stirs onto Heeseung’s face, and he tugs on the back of Sunghoon’s shirt, signalling for him to sit up. “I guess we’ll have to invite her over, work on that report all together.” Sunghoon’s lips curl into a smirk as he places a lazy kiss on Heeseung’s mouth.

Letting out a soft chuckle, Heeseung roughly pulls Sunghoon onto him, falling back into bed. With a tug, Sunghoon’s briefs are pulled down and he’s settled onto Heeseung’s lap. “Use me, I’m all yours.” He mutters, peppering kisses across Sunghoon’s neck.

Grinding down into Heeseung’s lap, Sunghoon lowers his head to attach his lips to Heeseung’s neck, sucking around his pulse point. When his tongue flicks over the sensitive skin just below his ear, Heeseung lets out a loud groan and bucks up into Sunghoon, his growing erection rubbing into his boyfriend. “Fuck, you know I’m sensitive there,” he purrs into his ear, licking against the lobe.

“Hyung, I need you,” Sunghoon whispers, swiveling his hips in Heeseung’s lap.

With his hands gripping Sunghoon’s thighs, Heeseung draws a steady breath in through his teeth, “Tell me how you want me,”

“In my mouth.”

Without wasting any time, Heeseung flips them over and presses Sunghoon into the plushness of their mattress. With a few quick pecks to the lips, Heeseung strips out of his sweats, leaving him bare and half-hard in front of Sunghoon. “Bet you wish Y/n was here to keep your fucking mouth busy while I suck you off, hm?” he says, lowering himself to the bulge that was presenting itself so perfectly to Heeseung. His hand ghosts over the imprint of Sunghoon’s cock, the heat of his arousal radiating against his palm.

Sunghoon stifles a moan before squirming beneath Heeseung, “Don’t say stuff like that-”

“Not so confident now that Y/n isn’t here to play dumb under you, Hoonie?” Heeseung teases his boyfriend as he toys with his cock, but there’s no heat behind his words. Laughing quietly, he presses open mouthed kisses against his briefs, earning a breathy moan from Sunghoon.

“S-shut up,” he gasps, grinding up into his face.

Heeseung only smiles against Sunghoon’s cock which was straining beneath him, letting his tongue flick out against the fabric, “It was your idea to approach her in the first place, I’m just fulfilling your fantasies since she isn’t here right now.”

“Stop bringing her up,” he whines, pulling his briefs down himself until his cock springs free, “She’s not dating us, so just keep her out of his.” His words are desperate now as he pushes Heeseung’s face against his pelvis, keeping it to himself as he totally imagines you rubbing against him.

Heeseung knows Sunghoon better than he would ever admit, and he can tell from how he acts around you just how much his boyfriend likes you- far more than Sunghoon would ever let on. And it’d be a lie to say Heeseung didn’t feel the same, so he leans into the teasing knowing Sunghoon was secretly thriving on the idea of you being here with them again. “Cut the act, I know you want Y/n here sitting on your face so you can eat her out, maybe shut you up for a bit.”

Finally, he takes him into his mouth, first dragging his tongue up the shaft and feeling the length of Sunghoon’s vein reach the tip. While his mouth moves up and down Sunghoon’s cock in a rhythmic motion, Heeseung lets his hand travel underneath Sunghoon’s shirt, finding his nipples. A moan escapes from Sunghoon’s lips once Heeseung starts to rub his nipples with the back of his fingers, “Heeseung-” he whines, cock twitching upwards in his boyfriend's mouth.

While Heeseung plays with Sunghoon’s cock in his mouth, he rubs himself into the bed, slowly grinding into it as he imagines it’s your ass underneath him. He shamelessly pictures you moaning below him, begging him to just stick it in and stop teasing you. Memories of your slicked up folds flash across his mind and he groans around Sunghoon’s cock, a chain reaction that sends Sunghoon into a fit of moans himself. Heeseung goes ahead and starts to flick Sunghoon’s nipples, looking up at his boyfriend as he swirls his tongue around the shaft.

Under the control of Heeseung, Sunghoon fights the urge to fuck up into his throat, but heeseung the all-observing boyfriend seems to notice his turmoil, “Fuck my throat baby, give it to me.”

Sunghoon doesn’t need to be told twice, bumping his hips into Heeseung’s face quickly and relishing in the way the tip of his cock rubs the back of Heeseung’s tight throat. The sudden change in pace has Heeseung gagging, forcing him to focus more on keeping his throat open and his breath steady than decorating his boyfriend’s cock with his tongue.

With Sunghoon’s cock filling his mouth, Heeseung’s mind wanders to the thought of you crying out while he thrusts into your quivering heat, clenching his dick like a vice while Sunghoon’s gaze fixed on every thrust. Heeseung had always known Sunghoon had a thing for watching; it was part of the reason why he had been given the green light to fuck you first. But you didn’t need to know that.

“Mmph, fuck-” Sunghoon cries, holding Heeseung’s wrists as they play at his nipples, the added stimulation bringing him closer and closer to the edge. “Relax your throat, Seungie- fuck, that’s it.”

When Sunghoon’s pace begins to fall off, Heeseung moves his hands back down to rest on his pelvis, pushing him down into the bed so he can control them now. He continues his assault on his boyfriend’s dick, going at it for a minute more before pulling off, moving to use his hands instead of his mouth now to finish him off. Sunghoon grips at the bedsheets like a vice, clutching them like his life depends on it as he thrusts into Heeseung’s hand, the saliva from his mouth acting as the perfect amount of lube.

Heeseung adjusts his position so that he can hold both his and Sunghoon’s cock together, spitting into his hand to share the lube-like saliva between the both of them. “Fuck, imagine Y/n was sitting here, bouncing up and down our cocks at the same time. Stretching her out so fucking good, hm?” Heeseung pants, finding himself close to the edge as he pumps their shafts quickly.

“I’m cumming, fuck!”

Heeseung tightens his grip slightly, right as the slit on Sunghoon’s dick opens to release streams of cum. The first few are strong, reaching as far as his blissed out face. The following spurts of arousal are less strong, some hitting his chest and the rest hitting his stomach, eventually slowing down to a slow dribble leaking out of his tip.

Heeseung follows just a second after, his own stream of cum leaking out at a less intense volume, shooting straight up. The two of them pant in tandem together, catching their breaths as their cum falls down the divots of their bodies and onto their sheets.

“Thank God it’s laundry day.” Sunghoon says finally, moving around Heeseung.

Heeseung gets off to help Sunghoon, throwing their pillows off and ripping the top corners of the bedsheet off while Sunghoon does the bottom. The two men work together in a comfortable silence, a rhythm they’ve fine tuned after years of being together. “When should we contact Y/n?” Heeseung asks, breaking the silence.

Sunghoon tenses, but it’s barely noticeable as Heeseung takes the hamper from his hands. “Maybe tomorrow?” he says, letting Heeseung take the laundry, “We can meet her at the cafe near our place.”

Heeseung shakes his head, hiking the hamper up on his hip, “I think it’s best we invite her here. The documents are kind of sensitive, best we don’t bring them to a place we could lose them.” Sunghoon doesn’t get the chance to offer a second opinion, watching his boyfriend's back disappear around the corner.

Sunghoon stays rooted in his spot, standing in the middle of the bedroom of their shared apartment they moved into at the beginning of the year. A part of him was torn, wondering if they were taking things too far by bringing you into their sex life when you weren’t even there. It was one thing to keep this friends with benefits facade up at work, but to think about you outside of that relationship, outside of work without your knowledge- had they crossed an invisible line?

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For the rest of the day, Sunghoon mopes around the apartment, his usual warm self dulled by the weight of his guilty conscience. Heeseung had tried to pull him out of it, making silly animal origami out of the freshly laundered towels, or sneaking kisses in while they were cooking, but Sunghoon’s responses remained colorless. “Is everything alright?” Heeseung finally asks, settling onto the couch as they prepare to watch a movie, a night time ritual they have on the weekend.

Sunghoon hesitates, “Do you think we should call things off with Y/n?”

Heeseung sets aside the popcorn that was sitting in his lap, the large blue bowl clashing with the muted decor they had chosen together at Ikea. “What makes you think that?” His hand rises to cradle Sunghoon’s cheeks, his thumb gently rubbing at the soft plushness.

“We’re in love with her,” he says, like dropping a bomb, “Right?”

Heeseung’s thumb stops moving, and he thinks his heart skips a beat. Sunghoon wasn’t wrong, but he truly thought that they were just going to remain blissfully unaware of that fact, for the sake of their job- and their relationship. “I- Sunghoon, I don’t-”

“It’s ok, I think I’m in love with her too,” Sunghoon clarifies, capturing Heeseung’s hand with his, “I don’t think we respected our own boundaries with Y/n. We let ourselves get too close, and now we’re breaking the easiest rule of the game.” He sighs, running his free hand through his hair as he thinks, “I think it’s best we call this off. Y/n didn’t sign up for two men pining after her, and if we keep this going, we’ll just ruin what we have.”

Heeseung leans forward to press a kiss to Sunghoon’s cheek, “Ok,” he pauses for a moment before continuing, “I’m fine with that. But I do want to ask- are you telling me you wanted to date her? Like, add her to this relationship?”

“I don’t know, and honestly we’ve never really discussed this. I trust you with my life, Heeseung. But it’s clear the both of us felt something for Y/n, which is why I felt comfortable enough to let my feelings for her grow. I think in an ideal world, where we got to know Y/n instead of hooking up with her through work, I would’ve liked to discuss polyamory with you.”

Heeseung’s lips crack into a smile, “God, I love you.” he says, pulling Sunghoon in for a hug, “You always know what to say, I just hope Y/n understands what we mean.”

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Like the boys had agreed, they invite you over to their apartment the following evening to work on the financial report. They insisted things would be casual- just some takeout and a table full of documents is what Heeseung had said to you over the phone. You were hesitant though, the idea of dinner at their place felt strangely intimate, sharing a meal with a couple in their own home felt like an intrusion you weren’t ready to risk.

You find yourself pacing in front of their building, clutching at the end of your jacket for a moment longer than necessary. You debate whether or not to text them, to tell them that something urgent had come up- but your body was moving faster than your mind, pressing the buzzer before you could follow through. It’s Heeseung that responds, his cheerful voice crackling through the speaker as he recites the code for the door.

32 floors is how long you have until you face them, and you spend the entire time fidgeting with the hem of your blouse, the tension mounting with each passing second. Elevators were such an awkward place for you now, considering your history with them; only amplifying your anxiety as memories of being pressed up against Sunghoon resurface. By the time you’re knocking on their door, you’re about to turn on your heel, second-guessing everything you’ve done until the door clicks open.

Sunghoon is the one that opens the door, an easy smile on his face that has you temporarily relaxing your shoulders, “Hey, glad you made it,” he says, stepping to the side to let you in.

You notice the way he’s dressed immediately- an oversized t-shirt displaying a band you don’t recognize and wide-legged sweats, a far cry from the usual sharp suits he sported at the office. You look down at your own outfit, a short fleece jacket zipped over your pink blouse and a pair of wide-legged slacks, nothing special but formal enough to pass in. Still, standing before Sunghoon while inside of his humble apartment, you suddenly felt overdressed.

Slipping in to enter, the first thing you notice is the scent- the faintest hint of lavender laundry detergent that discreetly smelt like Sunghoon whenever he pressed up against you too much in the office. Their apartment was also surprisingly neat; its muted tones accented by pops of their personality- colorful figurines on their shelves, a keyboard in the corner, some figure skates near the closet, etc…

Sunghoon points at a pair of house slippers for you to slip into, holding his arm out for you to hold onto as you kick your shoes off. “Thanks,” you say quietly, stepping into the slippers and following after him. He briefly gives you a tour of their place, showing you the dining room, then the kitchen, where the bathroom is, and then ultimately the living room.

The coffee table centered in front of their two couches was already set up, half of it full of takeout boxes and plastic bags and the other half neatly organized with folders and stacks of paper. Heeseung is already sitting, his legs tucked under the table while leaning against the base of the couch. When he sees you and Sunghoon enter, he brings a hand up to wave at you before patting the space beside him. “I hope Chinese is okay, Sunghoon forgot to hit the order earlier so this was the only place that would deliver in time before you got here.”

“Chinese is perfect, thanks,” you reply with a soft laugh, placing your bag down beside you as you sit next to him.

With Sunghoon sitting across from you, dinner passes quickly. Small talk is shared between the three of you over some noodles and several side dishes you can’t remember the names of. The conversation feels uncomfortably familiar- office gossip and discussion of your weekend plans being a routine banter you shared with them in the break room, and disconcertingly immediately after hooking up as well, like it was second nature.

It unsettles you how natural it feels, the camaraderie that forms so easily between you three. All the laughter and shared touches pulling you in deeper before you even realize. It almost felt wrong to feel this comfortable with them, sitting in their apartment and intruding on their personal lives all while knowing their bodies inside out. This intimacy you shared with them feels so wrong but so right, but it was an imposition on their personal relationship and was a clear violation of their friends with benefits boundaries.

This- this was why you didn’t want to come here, because you didn’t want to blur these lines any further.

“Did you want anymore?” Heeseung’s voice pulls you from your thoughts, his hand gesturing over your plate.

“No, I’m okay, thank you.” You push your plate away as a signal to show him you’re full. “What was the name of this place?”

“Bao’s Kitchen.” Heeseung says as Sunghoon begins to clear the table. “Did you like it?” You nod, piling the trash near you in one stack before handing it to Sunghoon.

“Alright,” he says, pulling out his laptop and placing it in front of him, “Namjoon said he wanted the financial report in by Monday. But I spoke to Jin on the phone earlier today and there are a few leftover tickets we need to finish for Monday’s meeting. Our annual conference is coming up soon, so we should get a head start on preparing our speaker notes for that, too.”

Nodding along with his words, you shove the unease down your throat and pull out your own laptop, mimicking Heeseung’s motions as you pull up your workspace. When Sunghoon returns, he distributes portions of the documents and the three of you settle into a comfortable rhythm, bouncing ideas off of each other and sharing progress reports every few minutes.

In the quietness of your work, you can’t help but notice the shuffling limbs under the table. With a slight glance downwards, you see Sunghoon and Heeseungs legs rubbing against one another, a motion of affection shared between just the two of them and you can’t help but feel a little empty on the inside. A hollow ache gnaws on the inside of your chest. Was it jealousy? Longing for someone else to have all to yourself? You couldn’t tell, but you knew that seeing them together made your heart flutter in a way you weren’t sure you wanted to define.

Shaking your head, you scold yourself internally for fantasizing about a dynamic that wasn’t yours to claim. There were rules- simple rules that were so simple a child could follow them: don’t get attached. And here you were, breaking every single one of them like they didn’t even matter.

By the time you’re about to finish the end of your report, you’re thinking of saying something, maybe telling them that it was time for you to go home. You were suffocating under the ruse of pretending everything was fine when everything was in fact, not fine. You couldn't keep pretending not to notice the subtle glances Sunghoon and Heeseung shot each other, or the gentle praises Heeseung gave his boyfriend when he completed parts of his work. Before you can even begin to pack your things though, Sunghoon breaks the silence.

“We need to talk,” he says, seriousness laced in his voice as he shuts his laptop.

A lump forms in your throat and you begin to hope they can’t hear your heart thump outside of your chest as you struggle to maintain your composure, “Ok, what’s up?”

Sunghoon and Heeseung exchange a glance before he speaks again, his gaze lingering over yours, “Heeseung and I have been talking… about the arrangement,” he gestures between you and the two of them, now avoiding your gaze before continuing. “We think it might be best if we stop seeing each other like this.”

The words are like a punch to the gut and you almost find yourself out of breath, instinctually bracing against the coffee table, “What?” is all you manage to say.

Heeseung leans forward, resting his arms on the table, “We just think it’s getting too complicated. We’re falling behind in work, and we don’t want you to get hurt- or us.

You let out a scoff before you realize it, “Complicated?” you argue, “It’s just sex, right? That’s what we agreed on.”

Sunghoon looks down, his expression pained with guilt, “It’s not just sex anymore, not for us.”

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Heeseung continues, which Sunghoon cannot.

Your mind reels with confusion as you listen to them, panic surging through you as you begin to pack your belongings. “You’re not, so let’s just keep things like it is,” you place your laptop into your bag, fumbling around with the zipper, “I don’t see any issues, I like things how they are.”

“Y/n,” Heeseung reaches out to you, brushing a hand against your shoulder. His touch stills you temporarily, but it only works for a second before it adds to your resolve to start ignoring everything that comes out of their mouths after that. “Y/n, we’re in love with you.”

You’re not listening, too busy still fumbling with the damn zipper on your bag to hear him clearly. This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t in the fucking rule book of fucking with your coworkers. Finally, with enough force, the zipper on your bag closes and you stand up, “If we just follow the rules, our arrangement should be fine. I’ll finish the rest of my part tonight-”

Sunghoon and Heeseung stand up with you as well, the latter reaching for your shoulder to ground you, “You aren’t listening, Y/n. We broke the fucking rules, we fell.”

The finality of his words eventually crashes over you, clicking in your head what he means, “So what do we do, then?” you whisper, braving an inch and letting your gaze match his.

“W-what?” Sunghoon steps around the table to stand behind you.

“I- never mind.” you stammer, stepping back only to walk into Sunghoon when you do. He catches you by your arms, holding you in the middle of the living room now. “I’ll send you guys an email once I finish my report-”

“Y/n, you need to talk to us.” Sunghoon says sternly, turning you around to face him.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, the truth clawing its way out, “I broke the rules too, so now what?” your voice is hardly above a whisper, and if Sunghoon weren’t standing so close to you, he probably wouldn’t have even heard you.

Sunghoon’s grip on your arm goes firmer as he takes in your words, processing the weight of them while glancing over at Heeseung, “You- you broke the rules too?”

Avoiding his gaze, you nod, feeling tears well up in your eyes. “I didn’t mean to,” you start, your voice trembling with shame, “I couldn’t help it, being around the two of you. I didn’t want to hope for anything out of something that already has enough love, and that scared me.” Your throat runs dry at your confession, but you swallow anyways, an award attempt at distracting yourself from the tension ruminating around you.

Heeseung lets out a sharp breath and moves to step around you so that he stands beside Sunghoon, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because that’s the rules?” you say, blinking away your tears, “I’m just an extra, an afterthought to your guys’ relationship. Isn’t that why you approached me? For sex?”

Sunghoon bites his lip, your words crashing over him like a tsunami. It killed him because you were so right, but you were also terribly wrong, “We thought we were protecting our own dynamic by not talking about these feelings we had for you, but we were wrong. You’re not an afterthought, Y/n. We want you in our lives, but we approached the situation all wrong. We got greedy and told you it was all about sex when it was more than that, and for that we’re sorry.”

“I think that knowing you share the same feelings for us now changes things though,” Heeseung adds, reaching to hold your hand in his.

“What do you mean? Like, I’d date you guys? But- you’re already together? I don’t understand, it’s-”

Heeseung squeezes your shoulder with his freehand, pulling you out of your rambles, “It doesn’t have to make sense, Y/n. All that matters is that we’re all happy, and if that means including you in this relationship, then we’ll do that- if you’re open to that.”

“If you want this- us.” Sunghoon says, gesturing between him and Heeseung.

You let out a shaky sigh, a breath of tension you didn’t know you were holding, “I just want things to work out,” you say.

“So we’ll figure it out.” Sunghoon reaches for your face, a gesture so intimate you almost cry. “No rules or arrangements, just the three of us- together.” His dark eyes bore into your own for what feels like an eternity, and for the first time since you’ve started your job, you feel like you belong somewhere. His hands are warm against your cheek as he uses his thumb to rub against the skin softly.

“God, someone kiss me already,” Heeseung interrupts, rolling his eyes.

Sunghoon only laughs, moving his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck so he can guide you over to Heeseung. When you're close enough, Sunghoon gently pushes your face into his until you’re kissing, but this time it felt different. It was gentler, more intimate than all the other kisses you shared with Heeseung during work hours in the stairwell and conference rooms. For the first time since you started this sexual relationship, you take the time to feel him out, acknowledging the way his heart-shaped lips meld against yours perfectly.

Heeseung opens his mouth after a few seconds, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip to ask for permission to enter. You gladly accept, meeting his tongue with your own. As the kiss between you deepens through the connection of your tongues, Sunghoon begins to gently caress your hair while trailing warm kisses down your neck. The heat of his breath in your neck has you moaning into Heeseung’s mouth, resulting in a smile dancing on the latter’s face as he presses another kiss on you.

Overtaken with love and desire, you let one hand go to wrap around Heeseung’s neck as if he can’t get any closer to you while the other hand threads into Sunghoon’s hear, tugging at it when he nips at your neck. Sunghoon starts to unbutton your blouse, assisting you in shrugging it off completely, followed by your lacey black bra that they don’t even spare a second glance at. The younger boy is quick to attach his mouth to your tits, loudly sucking on them. “You like when Sunghoon sucks on your tits, baby?” Heeseung asks, breaking away from the kiss.

You nod desperately, moving your hand from his neck down to his sweats. He doesn’t break eye contact when you start to palm him through the thin fabric, feeling him grow under your touch. It’s not until your fingers wrap around his length completely that he closes his eyes and throws his head back, a guttural groan following right after.

When he’s decided he’s had enough of your teasing, Heeseung moves backwards until he’s sitting on the couch, reaching out to pull you right onto his lap. “Grind on me, let me see you use me,” he pants, replacing Sunghoon’s mouth with his hands, grabbing firmly at the mounds.

As you begin your ministrations against his erection, Sunghoon comes to stand behind you, rubbing his bare hard on against your back. He doesn’t say anything, just rubs against you as he watches you and Heeseung rut on each other. Eventually, he leans down to help guide your hips over Heeseung, establishing a rhythmic pattern which has Heeseung fighting back a moan with every forward stroke.

When his hands depart from your hips, you look up to see why but Sunghoon quickly captures your neck, tilting your chin back even further and motioning for you to open your mouth. Following his instructions to a tee, you not only open your mouth but stick out your tongue, watching as he pushes a wad of spit from his pink lips and let the string of saliva drip down onto your tongue, “Good girl, can you swallow?”

You swallow obediently, licking your lips for extra measure, “Fuck, more…”

While you’re distracted with Sunghoon, Heeseung takes his top off and throws it somewhere across the living room. Sunghoon notices, “Take his pants off,” Sunghoon whispers, leaning down to lick into your mouth before tearing away from you.

Nodding absentmindedly, you get off of Heeseung enough to pull his sweats down along with his underwear, revealing an angry red cock dripping with precum. “He needs someone to take care of him, jerk him off a little. Can you do that for us, baby?” Sunghoon asks, moving to flick his fingers against your nipples.

Before you can respond, Heeseung interrupts, “Strip first.”

A furious red flashes across your face and you quickly kick off your slacks along with your panties, leaving you just as bare as Heeseung is. When you go to sit back on top of him, Heeseung curses, “You’re getting me wet, slut.” He says, pointing at the glistening patch on this thigh, right where you sat on him.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, looking down in embarrassment.

“Make it up to me by letting me fuck up into your fist.” He moves your hand for you, placing it around his member. After a quick adjustment, he starts to thrust upwards and you watch in awe as the top half of his dick goes in and out of your first, “I can feel you getting wetter. Are you getting off to this? Watching me fuck into your first, imagining it’s your pussy?” he gasps, losing his rhythm slightly, “So fucking tight, all for us, right?”

You nod just as Sunghoon moves to sit next to Heeseung, completely bare as well with his pretty pink cock resting against his abdomen. “You can touch yourself, baby.” Heeseung says to Sunghoon, sticking his tongue out for Sunghoon to suck on. His hand immediately flies down to his member, stroking it quickly as his lips wrap around Heeseung’s tongue, lewd noises emitting from their connected mouths.

Watching them share themselves with each other so willingly as you ride Heeseung’s thigh has you letting out a gush of arousal, drenching Heeseung’s thigh in even more slick, “Y/n likes that Hoonie. Likes watching us kiss, seeing you stroke yourself.”

With Heeseung talking like that and Sunghoon stroking himself in front of you, you lose yourself. Your hips stutter to a stop as you press down on his thigh, your orgasm ripping through you as you cum all over his leg, “Baby… couldn’t even wait till she was riding on of us before cumming,” Heeseung mocks, staring at your pussy. “Lay down for me, Sunghoon.”

Following his instructions, Sunghoon moves to lay down on the couch and Heeseung pulls you to sit on top of him, “Go ahead, put it in.” He gestures towards his dick, and you nervously obey him, blindly reaching behind you until you feel Sunghoon’s shaft. It takes a bit of time, but eventually, you feel Sunghoon’s shaft pressing against your entrance and the two of you moan at the same time when his tip penetrates you, “That’s it, pretty. Doing so well.”

You take your time sinking down, which is apparently too slow for Heeseung because he’s moving towards you, tapping your shoulders. “You’re taking your sweet time, aren’t you?”

“He’s big,” you whine, wincing as you go down another inch.

“I know, baby,” he laughs, smirking at Sunghoon who blushes a furious red, “What’re you gonna do when there’s two of us inside of you?”

Shock grapples you and you let yourself completely sink down on Sunghoon by accident, the burn from the stretch bringing tears to your eyes, “Fuck!” you cry out, slamming your hands down on his chest as an anchor right as Sunghoon brings his hands to your hips to keep you still.

Heeseung backs off when he sees the pain on your face, pity and arousal gracing his features while he watches you take Sunghoon’s cock. He moves to sit down on the couch, lifting Sunghoon’s head just enough so he can slip under it and lay him on his lap, “You look so good, Y/n. Taking Sunghoon’s cock like a good girl.” He looks down at Sunghoon, “You gonna fuck her yet?”

You roll your eyes once the stretching of his member finally becomes bearable, lifting off of him halfways before plopping back down. Eventually, you find yourself going faster and faster until your ass is slapping against his hips with every bounce. You move your hands from his chest, one going to your tit while the other going to your clit, “Fuck, you’re so damn tight.” Sunghoon curses, moving his hands to your ass as he takes over the pace. He fucks into you at a savage intensity, reeling when his balls slap against your cunt with each thrust.

You feel the drag of his cock so well in this position, rubbing against your walls as if they’re molding to the shape of him. As time drags on, you feel yourself getting closer and closer to a second orgasm, clenching sporadically around his length which earns a rough groan from Sunghoon, “I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that, baby.” He whines, speeding up his pace.

You don’t listen to him, instead letting yourself go completely when you see Heeseung lick his fingers and then stick them inside Sunghoon’s mouth. When Sunghoon starts to swirl his tongue around Heeseung’s digits and suck on them pathetically, a massive wave of pleasure washes over you and you swivel your hips around Sunghoon, riding out your high.

Sunghoon is quick to follow, your pussy squeezing him in a way that’s milking him of everything he’s got. “Good boy, fucking her full of your cum.” Heeseung says, stroking Sunghoon’s hair as his dick twitches inside of you, your walls painted with his cum.

When you finally let yourself relax around his softening member, Heeseung moves to stand beside you, gently pushing you forward until your chest is pressed against Sunghoon’s. With a few pumps of his cock, he lines himself up with your entrance, “Heeseung!” you gasp, feeling his tip push into your entrance while Sunghoon is still inside.

“It’ll be much easier for me to slip in now that your pussy is drenched in Sunghoon’s cum,” he says, finally breaching your entrance with one final push. The rest of him slides in easily, just like he said, and both you and Sunghoon let out a moan of overstimulation as he stretches you out in ways you’ve never been stretched.

It’s barely bearable, likely because Sunghoon is soft now, but that temporary feeling doesn’t last long. “Hyung-” Sunghoon gasps, hands running up and down your back frantically, “It’s too much!” Whether he intended to or not, he quickly hardens up again, stretching you out even more. The feeling of his boyfriend’s cock rubbing against his own was just too much for him to handle, quickly arousing him.

The burning sensation returns at ten fold and you cry out, feeling like you’re being ripped in half as Heeseung very slowly moves around, “Mmph, Sunghoon-” you cry, tucking your face into his neck as he begins to desperately hump upwards.

“I’m sorry-” he says, gripping your sides tightly, “Fuck, I can’t help it. It feels really good, baby.”

Whichever ‘baby’ he’s referring to, you don’t care because Heeseung doesn’t waste a second more before he starts moving. He has the decency to stay slow, patiently moving back and forth to let you adapt to the sheer size of two cocks stretching you out; but you don’t feel any pleasure at all, just the feeling of being ripped to pieces. “It-it hurts!” you whimper, but your body moves on its own, barely grinding against the two men as they move in tandem together.

A sharp slap to the ass has you reeling in both pleasure and pain, temporarily distracting you from the penetration, “If it hurts so much, you wouldn’t be rutting against Sunghoon and I like a dog in heat,” Heeseung hisses, picking up his pace as he starts slamming his hips into you.

Coincidentally, the burning starts to go away gradually once he starts moving into you faster, eventually becoming pleasurable all together. You can’t control the sheer volume of your moans as their cocks move against each other while inside of you rubbing your walls and coating them with precum. They’re hands squeeze at your body in desperation with every clench of your pussy, the fit already tight enough. Your lower abdomen boils with a pleasure you’ve never felt, blossoming with more and more arousal with every thrust.

You can’t feel your legs and sobs wrack your body in the best way possible as they continue to fuck into you like a toy, Sunghoon supporting your entire upper body weight while Heeseung holds onto your hips while drilling into you. Heeseung’s got more leverage from behind, snapping his hips in and out of you like a beast. You’ve lost how many times you’ve orgasmed at this point, your entire body shaking as the boys fight for their own highs while using your pussy as their vice.

“Touch yourself, baby,” Heeseung says suddenly, “I need to feel your pussy clenching around me when I cum,”

“I- I can’t, it’s too much. So…tired.”

“You can do it baby, you’ve got one more left in you,” Sunghoon coos into your ear, dragging his fingers up your back all while thrusting his hips into you from below.

With slow movements, you lift yourself off of Sunghoon just enough to reach your arm between the two of you, going for your clit. When your finger starts rubbing circles around the sensitive bud, you immediately begin to shake as the extra stimulation has you nearing the edge rather quickly, “Mmph, I think I’m gonna cum again!” you sob, the coil in your stomach having snapped completely as the boys continue to drill their cocks into you.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Heeseung pants, “Gonna fill your pussy up with so much cum,” his hips stutter to a stop as he fills you up with his load, Sunghoon quickly following in suit. You’re too fucked out to notice the end of their chase towards arousal, continuing to rub at your clit absentmindedly as they work through their highs. With a slight of hand, you feel a rush of liquid spurt out of you as a tsunami of pleasure rips through you.

The velocity of your arousal forces both of their cocks out, liquid spraying everywhere as you continue to rub yourself through it, moaning and screaming through every after shock of pleasure. Sunghoon and Heeseung hold you up together as you go limp, weeping quietly and barely processing Heeseung’s soothing words, “So good, baby. You did so good for us, Y/n.”

“We’re so proud of you, we’ll take care of you now. Just rest, Y/n.”

You think it was Sunghoon’s voice you heard last before passing out, the smallest smile on your tear stricken face.

[kiwriteswords]

Hotch and Reader are both in love with each other and have been for years but are both too professional and care too mcuh about work and ruining things so they dont get together but they end up getting together finally. its angsty and delicious!! with a happy ending ofc! (bonus if smut is added at all!?!?!)

I love you in a place where there's no space or time

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: So sorry this one took so long to share, anon! I hope it's all you hoped for! xx

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 13.6k

Tags/Warnings: Canon-typical violence, canon-typical themes, hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff, angst, feelings un-acknowledged, canon-typical injuries, language, fade-to-black smut, sexual themes, friends with benefits, friends with benefits turned relationship, slow burn, family dynamics, intimacy with feelings, proposal, talk of marriage.

Sypnosis: Aaron Hotchner has always been a man of order and control, carefully compartmentalizing the demands of his work and personal life. But when a long-standing partnership with a member of his team—you—begins to blur the lines between professional and personal, he’s forced to confront feelings he’s buried for years.

Aaron Hotchner had always been good at compartmentalizing. It was a skill he'd honed over years of leading the BAU, of balancing the chaos of his work and the fragile peace of his home life—or what passed for home these days. And you? You were a complication he never anticipated but somehow couldn’t imagine his life without.

You’d been with the team for years, carving your place with sharp wit, unwavering competence, and a sense of humor that could soften even the darkest days. Somewhere along the way, your partnership had morphed into something more. Late nights at the office became late nights at his apartment, pouring over files as Jack played in the living room. Work dinners turned into shared takeout meals, laughter filling his kitchen. And the tension—the chemistry between you both—it became a thread stretched taut, always on the brink of snapping.

But neither of you ever said a word.

Hotch couldn’t pinpoint when it had started, exactly. Maybe it was the time you showed up with a Batman figurine for Jack, just because he’d mentioned liking the character once. Or the way you sat with him on the couch after Haley’s death, saying nothing, just being there when he needed it most. Or the way you touched his shoulder during a case, grounding him when his anger threatened to boil over.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was that now, you were a constant in his life, and he had no idea how he’d let you become that. Friends with benefits, the team might have called it if they weren’t too polite to say it out loud. But it wasn’t just the sex—though that was undeniable. It was the quiet moments. The way you fit seamlessly into his life, into Jack’s life. Like you belonged.

Like you were family.

Hotch watched you now, sitting cross-legged on his living room floor, a game controller in hand, as Jack giggled beside you. You feigned frustration as Jack’s character beat yours on the screen, throwing your hands up dramatically.

“You’re cheating,” you teased, pointing an accusatory finger at Jack, who grinned up at you.

“I am not!” Jack protested, his voice full of glee. “You’re just bad at this.”

“Bad at this?” you gasped, clutching your chest as if he’d mortally wounded you. “I’ll have you know I used to be the reigning champion at this game.”

Jack tilted his head, squinting at you skeptically. “When? Like, a hundred years ago?”

Hotch couldn’t hold back a laugh from the couch, shaking his head as he sipped his coffee. “Careful, Jack. She might just ground you for that one.”

You spun around, pointing the controller at Hotch like a weapon. “Oh, don’t you start with me. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m on Jack’s side,” he said smoothly, the rare smile tugging at his lips, softening the tease. “He’s clearly the underdog here.”

Jack beamed, puffing out his chest. “See? Dad gets it.”

“Traitors,” you muttered, shaking your head dramatically before turning back to the game. “Fine. But if I win the next round, you both owe me ice cream.”

Jack laughed harder, leaning against you as if you’d always been there. “You’re not winning,” he declared. “And even if you do, I pick the flavor. No weird ones.”

“No weird ones? Jack, I have excellent taste. Mint chocolate chip is a classic.”

“Mint chocolate chip is gross,” Jack said, sticking out his tongue.

You gasped in mock outrage. “Okay, now you’ve gone too far.”

Hotch set his mug down, leaning back into the couch as he watched the scene unfold. This was his favorite view: you and Jack, a picture of domesticity he didn’t dare name.

The ache in his chest was familiar by now. Warm, heavy, and terrifying all at once.

Later, after Jack had gone to bed, Hotch found you in the kitchen, drying the dishes. It was a quiet ritual you’d fallen into over time, one neither of you had ever acknowledged aloud. The hum of the dishwasher and the soft clinking of plates filled the space between you, but it was far from silent. The weight of everything unspoken lingered, just like it always did.

Your shoulder brushed his as you reached for a glass, the simple contact sending ripples of awareness through him. It was ridiculous, he thought, how something so small could affect him so much. But that was how it had always been with you.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said softly, though he already knew the answer.

You glanced at him, a hint of amusement in your expression. “You know I don’t mind.”

Of course, you didn’t. You never minded. Whether it was a case of collapsing into bed together after a high-stakes day or nights like these—quiet, uneventful, and free of tension—you always stayed. It wasn’t just about the times the chemistry boiled over; it was about all the moments in between. The ones that felt effortless.

Hotch set the last plate on the drying rack and turned toward you, wiping his hands on a towel. “Jack really likes having you here,” he said, his tone conversational but deliberate. “He talks about you all the time.”

“And you?” you asked lightly, with a teasing lilt that tried to downplay the weight of your question. “Do you like having me here?”

His brow lifted, a rare smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Why wouldn’t I? You help with chores and keep Jack entertained. I’m getting the better end of the deal.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you bumped your shoulder lightly against his. “Deflect all you want, Hotchner. I know you’d be lost without me.”

He allowed himself a small chuckle, one that softened the sharp edges of his usual demeanor. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he replied, though his voice held more warmth than his words. “But I like having you here. More than I probably should.”

That caught you off guard for just a moment, but you recovered quickly, the teasing smile returning to your lips. “Good,” you said simply, returning to dry the last dish.

By the time the house had settled into silence, Hotch found himself in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as he unwound from the day. He heard your soft footsteps before you appeared in the doorway, your presence familiar and steady. You didn’t pause or hesitate, instead crossing the room to climb into the bed—his bed, though it had long since stopped feeling like just his.

You always stayed, and it had become a routine neither of you commented on. The guest room was just there for show, untouched and unnecessary. Some nights, the pull of tension between you snapped, leaving no room for words or space. Both of you would end up breathless and wanting in bed. Other nights, like this one, were quieter. Still, you stayed.

“Are you just going to sit there all night?” you asked, your voice low and tinged with humor. You were already lying on your side, propped up on one elbow, as you watched him with a curious gaze.

Hotch smirked faintly, shaking his head as he joined you, slipping under the covers. “I thought you might enjoy the peace and quiet,” he replied, his tone dry.

“I don’t think you’d know what peace and quiet were if it hit you in the face,” you shot back, though your words held no bite.

He settled beside you, his arm coming around you instinctively as you shifted closer. It was a gesture that felt as natural as breathing now, one neither of you ever acknowledged, but both seemed to rely on.

“You know,” you murmured, your voice soft against the stillness of the room, “it’s kind of funny how we never talk about this.”

“This?” he echoed, though his hand lightly tracing circles on your back betrayed the calmness of his tone.

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely to the two of you. “Me staying. Us… whatever this is.”

Hotch was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered his response. “Talking about it might ruin it,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled at that, the kind of smile he couldn’t see in the dark but could feel in the way your body relaxed against his. “Maybe.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full of the things neither of you dared to say aloud. And as you shifted closer, resting your head on his chest, Hotch allowed himself the brief indulgence of pretending that this—your warmth, your presence—was something permanent. Even though he knew it wasn’t.

Your company was appreciated and needed more than Hotch knew, even at work. The case was brutal. A family annihilator who preyed on vulnerabilities, using twisted logic to justify his violence. Hotch could feel the weight pressing down on him, but he didn’t have to carry it alone. You were there, as you always were, your presence steadying him.

When the unsub was in custody, and the team returned to the precinct, you lingered in the corner, watching him. He could feel your gaze like a physical touch as if you were daring him to break the silence that stretched between you.

“You okay?” you asked finally, your voice soft. Never prying. 

He nodded, but the truth hung in the air, unspoken. He wasn’t okay. Neither were you. But that was the deal, wasn’t it? To keep moving forward without acknowledging the things that could break you.

That night, back at the hotel, the weight of the day lingered on Hotch’s shoulders, pressing harder with every passing moment. Cases involving families always hit him differently, carving into the parts of himself he worked so hard to protect. But tonight, something else tugged at him—a sharper, deeper ache he couldn’t shake. It was you. It was always you.

He’d known you’d come. You always did on nights like this, when the line between partner and something more blurred into nothingness. The knock on his door was soft but unmistakable, and when he opened it, there you were, leaning casually against the doorframe as if this wasn’t an unspoken ritual.

“You weren’t going to sleep anyway,” you said, your voice low, tinged with exhaustion but still carrying that edge of teasing familiarity.

“Neither were you,” he replied, stepping aside to let you in.

The door closed softly behind you, but the tension in the room was anything but quiet. It filled the space between you like a storm waiting to break. You shrugged off your jacket, tossing it onto the chair in the corner, and Hotch couldn’t stop his eyes from lingering on you—the curve of your shoulders, the set of your jaw, the flicker of vulnerability in your expression you probably thought he wouldn’t notice.

“Rough day,” you said, breaking the silence as you turned to face him.

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “They always are.”

You crossed the room, your steps slow and deliberate, until you were standing just in front of him. “But this one was worse,” you said softly, your voice lacking the teasing edge it usually carried. “For both of us.”

Hotch didn’t answer, because he couldn’t. The words caught in his throat, the weight of everything unsaid pressing harder than ever. But you didn’t seem to need his response. You looked at him for a long moment, your gaze steady, searching, and then you moved closer.

It happened all at once and yet not at all suddenly, as though it had been building for hours. His hands found your waist, gripping you tightly as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was fierce, almost desperate as if he was afraid you might vanish. And you let him, meeting his intensity with your own, your fingers threading into his hair, holding him as tightly as he held you.

It wasn’t just adrenaline from the case or the pull of attraction that neither of you could deny. It was the unspoken understanding that this—whatever it was—was the only way either of you knew how to deal with the weight of the lives you led. It was raw, honest, and utterly consuming.

You tugged at his tie, loosening it with practiced ease, your movements steady but charged with purpose. His breath hitched as your hands brushed against his chest, unbuttoning his shirt with a deliberate slowness that had his pulse racing. His own hands mirrored your urgency, sliding under the fabric of your blouse, feeling the heat of your skin against his palms.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough but soft, his forehead pressing against yours as he paused just long enough to look into your eyes. The question wasn’t about this moment—it was about everything. About stepping closer to the line, you both swore you wouldn’t cross but had already blurred so many times.

You didn’t answer with words; instead, you pulled him back into a kiss, which was softer this time but no less consuming. Your lips moved against his in a way that spoke of trust, of understanding, of a desire too strong to deny. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones as he deepened the kiss, pouring everything he couldn’t say aloud into the way he held you.

When you pulled away just enough to whisper against his lips, your voice was low and steady. “I’m here, Aaron. Always.”

His name on your lips sent a shiver down his spine, and something inside him gave way. He guided you toward the bed with a gentle but unwavering urgency, his hands never leaving you. The soft glow of the room’s lamp cast warm shadows across your features as you looked up at him, your expression a mix of vulnerability and certainty that made his chest tighten.

The rest of the world disappeared as you both surrendered to the moment. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered breath was a testament to the connection you shared—a connection that went beyond words, beyond labels, beyond anything either of you could easily explain.

When you reached up to touch his face, brushing your fingers against the faint stubble along his jaw, he leaned into your touch instinctively. “Aaron,” you said again, his name a quiet anchor pulling him further into you.

He tilted his head down, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice low and raw, the words escaping before he could stop them.

“I think I do,” you replied softly, your hands moving to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms. “Because it’s the same thing you do to me.”

The admission hung between you like a fragile truth, one neither of you had dared voice before. But instead of shattering the moment, it only seemed to deepen the connection that pulsed in the quiet space between your bodies.

Hotch’s hands found the hem of your blouse, his movements deliberate as he slid it up and over your head. His fingertips brushed your skin, the contact sending sparks of warmth that spread through you. You reached for the buttons of his shirt, your touch steady despite the tremor of anticipation that hummed in the air.

When you finally settled on the bed, his weight pressing into the mattress beside you, the world outside the walls of the hotel room ceased to exist. The past, with all its heartache and shadows, faded away, leaving only the present—this moment, this connection, this intimacy you both shared.

Hotch leaned over you, one hand bracing himself beside your head, the other trailing along the curve of your side. The way he touched you was reverent like he was committing every inch of you to memory. His lips found yours again, the kiss softer this time, more deliberate, as if savoring the quiet intensity of the moment.

But there was something else beneath that tenderness—a tension he could no longer hold back. His lips pressed harder against yours, the kiss deepening with a newfound urgency. His hand slid from your side to your thigh, gripping it firmly as he pulled you closer as if closing the space between you would somehow quiet the storm raging inside him.

When you gasped softly against his mouth, he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His dark eyes, usually so controlled, were filled with something raw, something unguarded. "Tell me if it’s too much," he said, his voice rough, the words both a request and a warning.

Your answer came not in words but in the way you hooked your leg around his waist, pulling him closer, your hands gripping his shoulders as if daring him to let go. “It’s never too much,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the flush of heat in your cheeks.

That was all the permission he needed. His hand slid up your thigh, his grip firm but not harsh, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His lips found yours again, but this time, the kiss wasn’t soft—it was demanding, consuming, as though he was pouring everything he couldn’t say into the way his mouth moved against yours.

Hotch’s other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to give him better access as he trailed kisses down your jaw and neck. He paused at the hollow of your throat, his breath warm against your skin. When his teeth grazed just enough to make you shiver, he chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. “Still okay?” he murmured, though the way his hands gripped your waist betrayed his struggle to hold back.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely audible as you arched into him. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. The restraint that usually defined him seemed to unravel as his kisses grew rougher, his hands exploring with a certainty that left no room for hesitation. He shifted, guiding you further back onto the bed, his body pressing into yours, solid and unyielding. The way he moved, the way he touched you—it was as if he was trying to claim you, to prove that this moment, this connection, belonged to both of you and no one else.

As his lips returned to yours, his hands found yours, pinning them gently above your head. His weight and the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver of anticipation through you. "You’re mine tonight," he said, the words rough but filled with a quiet reverence that made your breath hitch.

“And what about tomorrow?” you teased softly, though your voice trembled with the weight of the moment.

Hotch’s grip on your hands tightened just slightly, his expression darkening with something that looked dangerously close to vulnerability. “Let me have tonight first,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours, and at that moment, nothing else mattered but the way he made you feel—seen, wanted, and completely his.

The rest of the world disappeared as you both surrendered to the moment. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered breath was a testament to the connection you shared—a connection that went beyond words, beyond labels, beyond anything either of you could easily explain. Times like this, when cases were especially bad, it was a little rougher than tender, but neither of you seemed to mind.

The silence in the room was heavy but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that came after something unspoken had been shouted without words. Hotch’s chest rose and fell steadily beneath your head, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his skin, grounding both of you in a moment that felt suspended in time. The storm of the night had calmed, leaving in its wake a raw, unfiltered intimacy that neither of you could explain—or acknowledge.

But then you shifted.

The movement was subtle at first, just a slight pull away from his side, but it was enough to snap him out of his haze. He felt your warmth leave him as you turned, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He watched as you reached for your clothes, your movements slow but deliberate, your back to him.

“You’re leaving?” The words came out gruffer than he intended, his voice low and edged with something he couldn’t quite define—something dangerously close to vulnerability.

You hesitated, your fingers pausing on the fabric in your hands. “I should,” you said quietly, though your tone lacked conviction. “We both need sleep. It’s been a long day.”

Hotch sat up then, the sheet pooling around his waist as he leaned forward. “You usually stay,” he said, his voice softer now, but still carrying the weight of a question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, your expression guarded, but your eyes betrayed you. They always did. “It’s different tonight,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He frowned, his brows drawing together. “Different how?”

You stood, pulling on your shirt as if the action might shield you from the conversation you were both teetering on the edge of having. “I don’t know,” you said finally, shaking your head. “It just… it feels too close. Like if I stay, it’ll mean something.”

Hotch swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet firmly on the floor. He reached for your wrist, his grip gentle but firm enough to stop you. “It already means something,” he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil swirling in his chest.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t turn to face him. “We don’t talk about this, Aaron. That’s the deal.”

“I know,” he admitted, his grip loosening just enough to let you pull away if you wanted. “But tonight—” He paused, the words catching in his throat. “Tonight, I don’t want you to go.”

That stopped you. You turned slowly, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, the weight of everything you both refused to say hung between you. You looked at him like you were trying to decipher some unspoken truth, but he didn’t flinch under your gaze. He couldn’t. He needed you to understand.

“I don’t know if I can,” you said finally, your voice wavering.

“Yes, you can,” he said, standing now, closing the space between you. His hands found your shoulders, grounding you just as yours had grounded him earlier. “Just for tonight. Stay.”

Your walls were up; he could see it in the way your jaw tightened, and your shoulders tensed. But he could also see the crack in your resolve, the way your lips pressed together as if to keep from saying something you might regret. You nodded slowly, and his hands dropped from your shoulders, relief washing over him in a way he didn’t entirely understand.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Hotch stepped back, giving you space even though every fiber of his being wanted to pull you closer. You climbed back into the bed, your movements slower this time, less certain. When you finally settled beside him, he wrapped an arm around you, his hand resting lightly on your back.

Neither of you spoke again, but the silence was heavy with understanding. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, and he didn’t know if either of you could keep pretending this wasn’t something more. But for now, it didn’t matter.

You were here, and that was enough.

The room was quiet again, save for the rhythmic hum of the hotel’s air conditioning and the faint sounds of life beyond the walls. You were back beside him, though the space between your bodies felt heavier than before, as if the rawness of what had just happened was an invisible barrier neither of you wanted to cross.

Hotch’s arm rested lightly on your back, his hand brushing the curve of your shoulder in slow, deliberate motions. He could feel the tension in your body, the way your breathing was steady but shallow, as though you were trying to keep your emotions at bay. He didn’t push; he never did. But tonight, the weight of everything unspoken was almost suffocating.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he said finally, his voice quieter, less firm than it had been when he asked you to stay.

You shifted slightly, turning your head to look at him, your expression unreadable in the dim light. “Do you want me to go?” you asked, and there it was—your defense, sharp and ready, a shield to deflect the vulnerability threatening to surface.

“No.” The word came out before he could stop it, his tone firmer this time, leaving no room for ambiguity.

Your eyes softened just slightly, but you quickly masked it, shifting to lie flat on your back, staring at the ceiling. “This feels… different,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not like the other times.”

Hotch turned to face you, propping himself up on one elbow. “It is different,” he said, his gaze steady on you. “But I think it’s always been different. We just don’t say it.”

You let out a breathy, humorless laugh, turning your head to meet his eyes. “We’re not exactly great at saying things, are we?”

His lips twitched into a faint smile, though there was little humor in it. “No, we’re not.” He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingertips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

You closed your eyes briefly, as if trying to absorb his words without letting them take hold. When you opened them again, there was something softer in your gaze, something that looked a lot like surrender. “You scare me sometimes,” you admitted quietly. “Not in the way you think. Just… the way you make me feel.”

Hotch’s chest tightened at your words, his hand moving to rest against your cheek. “You think I don’t feel the same?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “Because I do.”

The air between you shifted then, the tension softening into something quieter, more vulnerable. For a moment, neither of you moved, your gazes locked as though daring each other to break the silence. Then, slowly, you reached for him, your hand finding his and lacing your fingers together.

“I’ll stay,” you said softly, almost as if reassuring yourself as much as him. “But just for tonight.”

It was always more than just tonight. 

Hotch nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line as he leaned down to kiss your forehead—a gesture so tender it felt almost out of place between the two of you. “Just for tonight,” he echoed, though the way his hand tightened around yours betrayed the truth.

You shifted closer to him, your head resting against his shoulder, and for a while, you both lay there in silence, the unspoken words still hanging in the air but no longer suffocating. Whatever this was between you—messy, undefined, and terrifying—it was enough for now. It had to be.

Aaron Hotchner prided himself on control. In his work, in his demeanor, in the way he navigated the chaos of the BAU—it was a skill he had honed to perfection. And yet, when it came to you, control felt like a slippery thing, something he grasped at but never fully held.

The days following that night settled back into the rhythm you and Hotch always maintained—something hovering between routine and denial. At work, you were as efficient and professional as ever, the picture of a seamless partnership. You exchanged clipped updates about cases, worked in sync during briefings, and traded subtle glances across the room that said more than words ever could.

Outside of work, the lines blurred more than ever. You still joined Hotch and Jack for movie nights, helped Jack with his homework, and shared quiet dinners that felt far too domestic for two colleagues who claimed not to be anything more. You fell back into bed together on those nights when the tension boiled over (and many nights when you both were just too tired not to just be), and yet neither of you ever spoke about what it meant. That was the unspoken agreement: not to name it because naming it would make it real.

It worked. Until Beth.

She had been kind, warm, and direct in a way that took him by surprise. Meeting her at the park had been pleasant enough—a chance encounter during one of his runs training for the triathlon. She’d struck up a conversation easily, and before he realized what was happening, she was smiling at him in that way, the kind of way that left no question about her intentions.

“I-I could use some tips--if you’re not busy?” she’d asked, her tone light but confident.

For a moment, Hotch froze. His first thought, inexplicably, was of you—how you’d look at him if you knew, the slight quirk of your brow, the teasing edge in your voice. And yet, beneath that, there was something else. Something heavier.

“I—” He hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “I just don’t know my schedule. I’ll think about it.”

Later that night, as you sat on the couch in his apartment, flipping through a case file while Jack played nearby out of hearing, Hotch broke the silence.

“Someone asked me out today,” he said, his voice calm, almost too casual. 

You didn’t look up immediately, your focus still on the file, but he caught the way your hand stilled on the page. “Oh?” you said lightly, though the tightness in your tone betrayed you. “Anyone I know?”

He shook his head, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “A woman I met at the park. Beth.”

“Beth,” you repeated, setting the file down. You finally looked at him, your expression unreadable. “And what did you say?”

“I said I’d think about it.” He paused, studying your reaction closely. “It felt… strange.”

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a wry smile. “Strange how? Like you haven’t been asked out in a while? Or…?”

Hotch sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Like it would be wrong. Like I’d be… cheating.”

The word hung in the air between you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then you laughed, though the sound was hollow. “Cheating? Aaron, we’re not—” You stopped yourself, the words catching in your throat.

“I know,” he said quickly, his jaw tightening. “But it still felt that way.”

You leaned back against the couch, your arms crossed over your chest. “How would you feel,” you asked after a long pause, “if someone asked me out?”

The question was quiet but sharp, cutting through the space between you. Hotch’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. His first instinct was to deflect, to downplay it, but the truth was already clawing its way to the surface. His eyes darkened at the thought. 

“I’d hate it,” he admitted finally, his voice low. “I’d hate it, and I’d probably want to throw a punch.”

Your eyes widened slightly, his uncharacteristic bluntness catching you off guard. But instead of teasing him, you leaned forward, your elbows resting on your knees as you mirrored his posture. “Really?” you asked, your voice soft but steady.

“Really,” he replied, and then, after a pause, he sighed and ran a hand over his face. “There was a time… that officer in Seattle, the one who wouldn’t stop hitting on you.”

You blinked, clearly startled by the shift in the conversation. “The one who called me ‘darlin’’ every five minutes?”

Hotch nodded, his jaw clenching at the memory. “I had all I could do not to step in. Every time he touched your arm or found some excuse to be near you, I—” He stopped, shaking his head as if trying to will away the irritation that still simmered beneath the surface. “It wasn’t professional.”

A slow smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you leaned back against the couch, crossing your arms. “You were jeal-ous.”

“I wasn’t—” he started to protest, but the sharp look you gave him cut him off.

“You were totally jealous,” you said, your smile widening. “You hated that someone else even thought about getting near me.”

Hotch shifted in his seat, his expression stern but not quite able to hide the faint flush of his cheeks. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” You tilted your head, your gaze playful but laced with something warmer, deeper. “You know, it’s kind of hot.”

“Stop,” he muttered, his voice tinged with exasperation, though the way he avoided your eyes betrayed him.

You laughed softly, the sound lightening the tension between you. “Fine. But admit it—you wouldn’t like it if someone else was interested in me.”

“No,” he said simply, his voice quiet but firm. “I wouldn’t. Because…” He sighed, fidgeting, running a hand through his hair. “Because it would mean someone else has something I want but won’t let myself have.”

The confession hung between you, raw and unfiltered. You looked at him for a long moment, your expression softening, though there was still a hint of sadness in your eyes. “Aaron…”

“I know we don’t talk about this,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not harsh. “But you asked, and that’s the truth.”

You leaned back again, your arms wrapping around yourself as if for protection. “I don’t think I’d like it much either,” you admitted quietly, scrunching your nose at the thought. “If someone else had what I already think of as mine.”

Hotch’s breath caught at your words, and for a moment, the weight of what you’d both said seemed too much to bear. But then you looked at him, and something in your expression shifted—a quiet resolve that mirrored his own.

“We’re really bad at this, huh?” you said, a faint, self-deprecating smile tugging at your lips.

“Terrible,” he agreed, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly despite himself.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy, yes, but it was also full of understanding. Neither of you had the answers, and maybe you never would. But for now, the truth was out there, raw and unspoken, just like everything else between you. And somehow, that was enough. For now.

Life fell back into its strange, unspoken rhythm. You and Hotch continued your routines, the moments that felt too much like a relationship carefully tucked away, ignored but ever-present.

Hotch had made his decision about Beth without much thought, declining her offer politely but firmly. He told himself it was because his life didn’t allow for complications like dating, but he knew the real reason. 

He didn’t bring it up again, and neither did you. But sometimes, when you caught his eye across the bullpen or during a quiet moment at his apartment, there was a weight in your gaze that mirrored his own. It was easier not to talk about it.

The unsub had been cornered, a desperate man with nothing left to lose. Hotch could see the wild look in his eyes, the way his hand twitched around the gun. You stood a few feet away, crouched behind a car door, your gun trained on the suspect.

“Put it down,” Hotch commanded, his voice steady, calm, despite the adrenaline coursing through him.

The unsub didn’t move, his eyes flickering between you and Hotch like a cornered animal. Then, in an instant, he shifted his aim—toward you.

It happened so fast that Hotch didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. He moved before the shot rang out, his body blocking the line of fire as he tackled you to the ground. Pain flared in his shoulder, sharp and searing, but he didn’t let it stop him. He rolled to shield you as Morgan and the local PD took the unsub down, disarming him within seconds.

“Aaron!” Your voice was sharp, filled with anger and panic as you shoved him off you, your hands immediately moving to his shoulder. “Are you—damn it, you’re bleeding!”

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly, though the pain in his voice betrayed him.

“No, you’re not fine!” You glared at him, your hands pressing against the wound to stem the bleeding as the medics approached. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I wasn’t going to let you get shot,” he snapped, his tone sharper than he intended. Your jaw tightened, but you didn’t argue as the medics came to his side. 

Hotch sat in the back of the ambulance, his jacket discarded and his shirt pulled down over his good shoulder to expose the wound. The paramedic worked efficiently, stitching up the graze with practiced precision. He barely winced, his focus not on the pain but on you.

You were pacing a few feet away, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you muttered to yourself. He could tell by the sharpness of your movements and the tension in your jaw that you were furious. He also knew it wasn’t just anger; it was fear, worry, and something else neither of you would admit.

“Does she know you’re okay?” Rossi’s voice broke through his thoughts. Hotch turned to see Rossi and Morgan standing at the back of the ambulance, their expressions a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“She knows,” Hotch replied curtly, his tone dismissive.

“She doesn’t look like she knows,” Morgan said, nodding toward you. “She looks like she’s about to tear you a new one.”

Hotch sighed, his hand clenching briefly at his side. “She’ll get over it. She’ll be fine.”

“Will she?” Rossi asked, his tone pointed. “Because from where I’m standing, this whole act the two of you have going is starting to wear thin.”

“What act?” Hotch asked, though he already knew the answer.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “The one where you two pretend you don’t have feelings for each other. It’s getting old, Hotch. And frankly, it’s not doing anyone any good.”

Rossi crossed his arms, his gaze steady on Hotch. “You put yourself in the line of fire for her, Aaron. We all would have done it, but you didn’t think twice. That’s not just leadership. That’s something else.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering briefly to you before he looked back at them. “It’s not that simple.”

“Of course, it’s not,” Rossi said, his voice gentler now. “But ignoring it doesn’t make it go away. You’re not protecting her by pretending it doesn’t exist. You’re just making it harder—for both of you.”

Hotch didn’t respond, his gaze dropping to the floor of the ambulance. The paramedic finished the stitches and stepped back, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the weight of Rossi and Morgan’s words.

When he finally looked up again, you were still pacing, your anger radiating off you in waves. And for the first time, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, Rossi was right.

The atmosphere back at the BAU was tense, the usual hum of activity muted by the weight of the recent case. Hotch moved through the bullpen with his usual efficiency, though the stiffness in his shoulder and the dull ache radiating from the stitches served as a constant reminder of how the day had started.

You were another reminder.

Since the moment he got out of that ambulance and was cleared to finish the case, you’d been snapping at him—sharp comments about his paperwork, curt responses to his questions, even a pointed remark about his “reckless heroics” during the case. It was all thinly veiled anger, but it wasn’t lost on anyone. Rossi shot him a knowing glance as he passed; Morgan smirked but wisely stayed out of it, and even JJ looked like she was holding back a comment. He’s pretty sure he even heard a scoffing laugh out of Emily at one of your brattier comments. 

“Hotch,” you said sharply, interrupting his conversation with Reid about a case update. “If you want those reports done before midnight, you might want to clarify what you actually need. Or is guessing part of the job now?”

Reid froze mid-sentence, his wide eyes darting between you and Hotch. The tension in the room was palpable, and Hotch’s patience, already worn thin by the soreness in his shoulder and the mental fatigue of the case, snapped.

“Y/N,” he said, his tone firm but controlled. “My office. Now.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could get a word out, he reached for your elbow and guided you firmly toward his office. The rest of the team watched with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement as you allowed yourself to be led, though the fury in your eyes was unmistakable.

Once inside his office, Hotch closed the door behind you, the sound louder than it needed to be. He released your arm, his hand lingering for only a second before he stepped back, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest. “You just dragged me in here like I’m fucking child.”

“You’ve been snapping at me all day,” he shot back, his voice low but sharp. “What do you expect me to do? Let you keep undermining me in front of the team?”

“Oh, so now I’m undermining you?” you said, your voice rising. “God forbid anyone have a reaction to you throwing yourself in front of a bullet.”

“I did what I had to do,” he said, his tone clipped. “It’s my job to protect the team.”

“You’re not invincible, Aaron!” you snapped, your voice breaking slightly on his name. “You can’t just—do that, and then act like everything’s fine. Like we’re all fine.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a slow breath as he tried to keep his frustration in check. He was tired. Tired from the case. Tired from the injury. Tired of the running.

“I wasn’t going to stand there and let you get hurt,” he said finally, his voice quieter but no less firm.

“And what about you getting hurt?” you fired back. “Do you think any of us would be okay with that? Do you think I would?”

Hotch froze, the intensity in your voice cutting through his fatigue and frustration. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. The raw emotion in your eyes, the way your shoulders shook slightly as you tried to keep yourself composed—it was almost too much.

“This isn’t about the case, is it?” he asked, his voice softer now, though there was an edge of steel to it. “You’re not just angry about what happened.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out. Instead, you turned away, your arms tightening around yourself as if to create some kind of barrier.

Hotch took a step closer, his tone steady but tinged with something softer, something almost pleading. “Talk to me.”

You turned back to him, your eyes blazing with anger, but beneath it, he could see something else—fear, worry, hurt. “Why should I? We never talk about anything. Not really.”

The words hit him like a blow, the truth in them undeniable. And for the first time, he didn’t have an answer.

Hotch stood still, every muscle in his body taut as he let your words settle in the air. The frustration and fire in your voice cut through him, but it was the vulnerability underneath that made him pause. He had always prided himself on reading people, on staying composed no matter the situation, but you had a way of stripping him bare, of making him feel exposed in ways he wasn’t prepared to handle.

“You think I don’t feel it too?” you demanded, stepping closer, your voice trembling with restrained emotion. “Every time you step in front of danger, every time you put yourself in harm’s way for me—it eats at me. And then you have the nerve to act like it’s just another day at the office, like it doesn’t mean anything.”

“I don’t act like it doesn’t mean anything,” he said, his voice sharp, cutting through your words. “But we can’t afford for it to mean what you think it does.”

“And why is that?” you snapped, crossing your arms tighter over your chest. “Because it might make you feel something real? Because it might mean admitting that this—whatever this is—actually matters?”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, the words catching in his throat. He wanted to argue, to say that you didn’t understand, but the truth was, you understood better than anyone. “Because if something happens to you,” he said finally, his voice low but cracking at the edges, “it would destroy me.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t back down. “And you think it’s any different for me? You think watching you throw yourself in front of a bullet didn’t tear me apart? God, Aaron, don’t you get it? You don’t get to make that choice for me.”

He turned away, running a hand through his hair, his composure fraying with every word you spoke. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?” you demanded. “From being hurt? From feeling? Because if that’s your plan, it’s not working. I’m already hurt. I’ve been hurt for years because we refuse to deal with this.”

“You think it’s that simple?” he asked, spinning back to face you, his voice rising. “That we can just talk about it and everything will magically be fine?”

“No,” you shot back, your voice rising to match his. “But pretending it’s not there isn’t fine either. Ignoring it doesn’t make it go away—it just makes it worse.”

The room was suffocating now, the air thick with all the words neither of you had said for years. Hotch’s mind raced, every argument, every excuse colliding with the raw truth you had thrown at him.

“This job…” he started, but his voice faltered. He took a steadying breath and tried again. “This job demands everything. It doesn’t leave room for mistakes, for weakness.”

“And you think this is weakness?” you asked, your voice trembling now, the anger giving way to something quieter but no less intense. “Do you really think what we feel—what we’ve built—is a liability?”

Hotch’s shoulders slumped slightly, the fight draining out of him as the weight of your words pressed down on him. He opened his mouth to respond but found himself struggling to find the right words.

“I don’t know,” he admitted finally, his voice raw. “I don’t know how to do this, how to balance it. I don’t know how to protect you and still let myself have you.”

You stared at him, the raw honesty in his voice cutting through your defenses. But it wasn’t enough—not yet.

“You can’t have it both ways, Aaron,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “You can’t keep me close enough to feel everything and then pretend it doesn’t exist when it gets too hard.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his admission. “I know I can’t. But I don’t know how to do this without risking everything.”

“Neither do I,” you said, taking a step closer, your voice trembling. “But the risk of losing this, of losing us—aren’t we worth figuring it out?”

Hotch closed his eyes, the tension in his shoulders finally breaking as your words sank in. He couldn’t argue with you, not when everything you said mirrored the storm that had been raging inside him for years. He opened his eyes and looked at you, really looked at you, and for the first time, he let himself feel the full weight of what you meant to him.

The silence between you stretched, heavy and electric, the air in the room thick with everything you’d both left unsaid for far too long. Hotch’s gaze flickered to yours, searching for something he couldn’t name but desperately needed. His own words had fallen short, his admission incomplete, and he could feel the weight of it pressing down on him.

But then you spoke, and it hit him like a tidal wave.

“I can’t keep doing this, Aaron,” you said, your voice trembling but strong, each word deliberate and cutting through the fog of tension. “I can’t keep being someone you make love to, someone you fuck when it gets to be too much. Someone you play house with when we’re with Jack. You can’t look me in the eyes and expect me to pretend I’m not already part of your family.”

He flinched, the raw honesty in your voice slicing through the walls he’d spent years building. “You are part of my family,” he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

“Then why do we keep acting like I’m not?” you fired back, your tone sharper now, anger laced with pain. “Why do you let me stay, let me take care of Jack, let me sleep in your bed—let me love you—but we act like it doesn’t mean anything?”

Hotch’s breath caught, his chest tightening as your words hit their mark. He opened his mouth to respond, but you weren’t done.

“You jumped in front of a bullet for me, Aaron,” you continued, your voice breaking slightly. “And you expect me to believe you’d do that for anyone else? That I’m just another member of the team? I’m not stupid. I know what this is—what we are. But I can’t keep pretending it’s nothing.”

He stepped closer, his hand twitching at his side, but he didn’t reach for you. “You think I don’t know that?” he asked, his voice low and rough. “You think I don’t feel it every time I look at you, every time I hear Jack ask about you when you’re not there? You think I don’t know how much it means to me that you’re part of my life?”

“Then we have to stop running from it!” you exclaimed, your voice cracking as your arms fell to your sides. “Stop pretending it’s safer to ignore it, because it’s not. It’s killing me, Aaron. I’m so in love with you, it hurts. And it’s killing me to keep living like this, to keep pretending we don’t already know the truth.”

The words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered, leaving him breathless. He felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him, like the armor he’d spent years perfecting had finally crumbled to dust. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to make sense of the storm inside him.

You shook your head, stepping back slightly, though your eyes never left his. “I need you to decide,” you said softly, but the steel in your voice was unmistakable. “Because I can’t keep doing this—loving you like this—if you’re not willing to let yourself love me back.”

Hotch’s throat felt tight, the weight of your ultimatum pressing down on him like a physical force. But as he looked at you, at the pain and determination in your eyes, something inside him shifted. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

He stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re right,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with conviction. “I’ve been running. I’ve been terrified. But I can’t lose you—not like this. Not ever.”

Your breath hitched, your eyes searching his, and for a moment, the room was silent, the tension between you finally giving way to something else. Something undeniable.

“I love you,” he said, the words raw and unpolished, but no less true. “I don’t know how to do this, but I want to try. With you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you didn’t look away. “Then stop pretending I’m anything less than yours.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice steady now. “Not anymore.”

The air between you shifted, the weight of everything unsaid finally lifting as you stepped into him, your arms wrapping around him as his enveloped you. It wasn’t a resolution, not entirely, but it was a beginning. A chance to stop running, to stop pretending, and to finally face the truth you’d both been avoiding for far too long.

The embrace lingered, grounding them both in a moment of quiet resolution. Hotch could feel your heartbeat against his chest, the tension in your body slowly melting away as his arms tightened around you. For once, the silence between you wasn’t filled with unsaid words or guarded emotions. It was calm. Real.

But the calm couldn’t last forever.

As you stepped back slightly, your hands still resting on his chest, Hotch caught the faintest hint of a smirk on your lips. It was subtle, but he recognized it immediately—the way your mouth twitched just before you said something that would almost certainly drive him up a wall.

“You know we just gave the entire team front-row seats to our meltdown, right?” you said, tilting your head as you looked up at him. “They’re probably out there placing bets on how long it’ll take us to come out of this office.”

Hotch sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching as he fought the urge to smile. “I’d imagine Rossi’s leading the pool.”

“Of course he is,” you replied, stepping back fully now, though the warmth in your voice remained. “He’s been waiting for this for years. Probably thinks he’s some kind of love oracle.”

Hotch allowed himself a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll have to face them eventually,” he admitted, his tone resigned but not without a trace of humor. “It’s not like they’ll forget about it by morning.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the edge of his desk. “Oh, they won’t. They’ve been watching us like hawks for years. I wouldn’t be surprised if Morgan starts calling us ‘Mom and Dad’ the second we walk out of here.”

Hotch froze for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. “What do you mean, ‘Mom and Dad’?”

Your grin widened, and you shrugged nonchalantly. “You didn’t know? The team’s been referring to us as Mom and Dad behind our backs for ages.”

He blinked, his lips parting slightly as he tried to process your words. “They… what?”

“Oh, come on, Aaron,” you said, your tone teasing now. “You’ve seen how they act around us. Morgan and Reid bicker like siblings, and JJ’s always trying to keep the peace. They’ve practically assigned us roles in their little BAU family.”

Hotch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” you asked, your voice laced with amusement. “Because it makes a lot of sense when you think about it. I mean, you are kind of a dad to everyone, and I—” You stopped abruptly, the teasing edge in your voice faltering for just a moment before you continued. “Well, I guess I’m just always around.”

Hotch looked at you then, his gaze softening. “You’re not just always around,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “You’re part of this team. You’re part of my life. And, apparently, the team’s ‘mom,’ whether we like it or not.”

The warmth in his voice made you smile, and for a moment, the tension from earlier felt like a distant memory. “Well,” you said, pushing off the desk and straightening your posture, “if we’re going to face them, we might as well lean into it.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “Lean into it?”

“Sure,” you replied, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Let them think they’ve been right all along. It’ll make their day.”

He sighed again, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Maybe,” you said, moving toward the door. “But it’s not every day we give them this much to gossip about. Might as well embrace it.”

As you reached for the door handle, you turned back to him, your expression softening slightly. “You ready?”

Hotch straightened, his shoulders squaring as he stepped forward. “Not even a little.”

Your laugh was soft but genuine, and as you opened the door, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Whatever was waiting for the two of you on the other side, you’d face it together. And that, at least, was something he could hold onto.

The weeks that followed were, on the surface, remarkably unchanged. You and Hotch still worked side by side at the BAU, the same unspoken rhythm of partnership guiding your every move. Your routines remained intact—late nights at his apartment, dinners with Jack, quiet moments stolen away from the chaos of your jobs. But now, there was something new woven into the fabric of it all. Something quiet and steady: the acknowledgement of what you were to each other.

It started small. He would brush his fingers against yours when no one was looking, or you’d linger in his office just a little longer than necessary, your smiles softer, your words laced with warmth. And the words “I love you” slipped into your conversations as naturally as if they’d always been there.

One night, after a particularly grueling case, you both returned to his apartment, the comforting routine of shedding your workday as familiar as ever. Jack was already in bed, the soft glow of the living room lamp casting a warm light as you both settled in.

Hotch disappeared into his home office for a moment, returning with a folder in his hand. He handed it to you without a word, his expression unreadable.

You took it, raising an eyebrow as you opened it. “What’s this?” you asked, flipping through the pages.

“Employee relationship disclosure paperwork,” he said simply, his tone neutral but his lips twitching with the faintest hint of amusement.

Your head snapped up, your eyes narrowing as a slow smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Employee relationship paperwork?” you echoed, setting the folder on the coffee table. “What exactly are we calling this, Aaron?”

Hotch paused, clearly caught off guard by your question. “What do you mean?” he asked carefully.

You leaned back, crossing your arms as you looked at him with mock seriousness. “I mean, if we’re filling out forms, that means we’re officially labeling this, right? So, what are we? Is this… a relationship?”

His brow furrowed slightly, as though the question confused him. “Of course it’s a relationship,” he said, his voice steady. “It has been for a long time.”

You tilted your head, your lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Oh, really? Because last I checked, we’ve been playing house without acknowledging anything for years. So what’s the label, Hotchner? Are we ‘dating’? Am I your ‘girlfriend’?” You said the words with a playful lilt, but there was a genuine curiosity beneath your teasing tone.

Hotch hesitated, his jaw tightening as he considered your question. “I don’t think ‘girlfriend’ really fits,” he said finally, his tone thoughtful. “It feels… juvenile.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you. “Juvenile? Aaron, you sound like you’re 100 years old. What would you prefer? ‘Lady friend’? ‘Companion’?”

He shot you a pointed look, though the warmth in his eyes undercut his irritation. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” you replied, still smiling. “If ‘girlfriend’ doesn’t fit, what does? You could’ve at least asked me to go steady or something.”

That earned you a quiet laugh, and Hotch shook his head as he sat beside you on the couch. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re old-fashioned,” you shot back, nudging his shoulder with yours. “But seriously, what is this? What are we calling it?”

Hotch turned to face you fully, his expression softening. “We don’t need a label,” he said after a moment. “But if you want one… yes, you’re my girlfriend. My partner. Whatever word you want to use.”

Your smile widened, your teasing demeanor giving way to something warmer. “Your girlfriend, huh? Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

He smirked, leaning back against the couch. “You make me say a lot of things I never thought I’d say.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “I like the sound of it,” you said softly. “But you know, if this is going to be official, you’re going to have to deal with the team making fun of us.”

“I’ve dealt with worse,” he replied, his voice steady but tinged with amusement.

Hotch felt the faintest tug of a smile on his lips as your fingers threaded through his. The warmth of your touch steadied him in a way few things ever could. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze resting on you with that quiet intensity he so often wore, but this time there was a softness beneath it.

“You’re going to have to deal with it too,” he added, his voice quieter now, almost teasing. “You think Morgan’s not going to have a field day the second he hears about this?”

You chuckled, leaning back against the couch and letting your head rest on his shoulder. “Morgan’s going to call me ‘Mom’ for the rest of my career,” you said with a grin. “And don’t even get me started on Rossi. He’s probably already planning the toast for our wedding.”

Hotch groaned softly, though there was no real frustration in the sound. “Rossi thinks he knows everything,” he muttered.

“Well,” you teased, “he was right about this.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze drifting down to your intertwined hands. He knew the rest of the team would have plenty to say, but for once, he didn’t feel the usual tension that accompanied such thoughts. Instead, there was a quiet acceptance, a sense of inevitability that, despite his usual resistance to change, felt strangely comforting.

Your voice broke through his thoughts. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually said it out loud.”

“Said what?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to look at you.

“That you’re my boyfriend,” you said, the word tumbling out casually, but the way your lips curled into a playful smile told him you were testing it, savoring the way it sounded.

Hotch blinked, his brows lifting slightly. “Your boyfriend,” he repeated, the word feeling foreign but oddly fitting on his tongue.

“Yes,” you said, your tone mockingly serious now. “You know, boyfriend. Partner. Significant other. Lover—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, though the faintest hint of color crept into his cheeks as he shook his head. “I get it.”

You grinned up at him, clearly pleased with his reaction. “I think it suits you.”

“I feel ridiculous,” he admitted, though there was no heat in his words.

“Ridiculously lucky,” you corrected with a smirk.

Hotch sighed, though his lips twitched upward in a reluctant smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” you shot back, your tone light but laced with something deeper, something unspoken that now didn’t need to be.

He leaned back against the couch, letting out a quiet hum of agreement. “Maybe I do.”

“See? You’re getting the hang of this already, boyfriend,” you said, your grin widening.

He shook his head, chuckling softly as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re going to drive me crazy.”

“Good,” you replied, settling into his side. “That’s half the fun.”

Hotch’s lips twitched as he let your words settle, your playful tone doing little to mask the deeper warmth behind them. He tilted his head, watching the way you fit so effortlessly into his side, your teasing smile lighting up a part of him he rarely let anyone see.

“‘Boyfriend,’” he repeated softly, tasting the word again like it was foreign but not unwelcome. “I think I still prefer something more… permanent.”

You lifted your head slightly, your brow arching in curiosity. “Oh?” you asked, your tone laced with amusement. “What would that be? Partner? Spouse? Or—” You grinned, the mischief returning to your expression. “Are you saying you’re more interested in ‘husband’?”

Hotch didn’t flinch, though the faintest flicker of color touched his cheeks. He met your gaze, his expression steady, though his lips quirked in a faint smirk. “If we’re being honest,” he said, his voice calm and deliberate, “that does sound like it fits better.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, your mock surprise more playful than genuine. “Aaron Hotchner, did you just casually suggest skipping the whole dating phase and jumping right into wedded bliss?”

He shrugged, leaning back against the couch with an air of calm that was entirely deliberate. “Considering we’ve been acting like we’re married for years already, it doesn’t seem like that big of a leap.”

You laughed, the sound bright and genuine as you swatted his chest lightly. “You are ridiculous. You’re not even my fiancé, and you’re already talking about being my husband.”

“Like I said,” he replied, his voice soft but steady, “I prefer more permanent labels.”

Your grin softened, your eyes searching his as the teasing edge in your tone gave way to something quieter, more reflective. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” you asked, the question almost tentative.

Hotch nodded slightly, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t take things lightly,” he said simply. “Not with you. I never have.”

For a moment, the air between you was heavy again, but not with tension. It was filled with the weight of everything you’d both been building for years, every unspoken truth and every quiet moment of connection that had brought you here.

You smiled, leaning into him again, your voice soft but teasing as you murmured, “Well, if that’s the case, boyfriend, you’re going to have to start calling me ‘your wife’ in front of the team.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “One step at a time,” he said, though the warmth in his tone left little doubt about where his mind had already wandered.

Life fell back into its natural rhythm after you and Hotch filed the paperwork. The team made their comments, as expected—Morgan’s teasing was relentless, and Rossi’s smug satisfaction was borderline insufferable. But beyond the ribbing, nothing really changed in the day-to-day. You and Hotch continued your routines, slipping seamlessly between work and home as if the acknowledgment of your relationship had always been there.

Except now, there was an ease to it. A clarity.

The shift became apparent not in how you treated each other, but in how the rest of the world seemed to see you. It started small—another parent at Jack’s school, someone Hotch didn’t recognize but who greeted you both warmly at pickup one afternoon.

“Oh, you must be Jack’s mom,” she said, smiling at you before turning to Hotch. “He’s such a sweet boy. It’s clear he gets it from you two.”

You both had opened his mouth to correct her out of habit, but then he stopped you. What was the point? It felt right. Natural. So he’d smiled politely and said, “Thank you.”

Later, as you walked back to the car with Jack skipping ahead, you nudged him lightly. “Jack’s mom, huh?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“You didn’t correct her either,” he countered, his lips twitching with amusement.

You shrugged, your smile soft. “Didn’t feel like I needed to.”

It was one of those rare sunny Saturday mornings when Hotch found himself not at the office but at the local community park with you and Jack. The three of you had fallen into an easy rhythm—Jack running ahead to the swings while you and Hotch strolled behind, coffee cups in hand.

As usual, you and Jack had dragged him into this outing, insisting he needed a break. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but watching Jack’s laughter echo through the park and seeing the soft smile on your face made him realize how much he needed mornings like this.

While Jack climbed the jungle gym, you leaned against the railing near the benches, brushing a stray hair from your face as the breeze picked up. Hotch stood beside you, close enough that your arm brushed his when you reached for your coffee.

A voice interrupted the moment. “Aaron Hotchner, is that you?”

Hotch turned to see a woman he vaguely recognized approaching, her face lighting up as she drew closer. It took him a moment to place her—one of Haley’s old acquaintances from a distant social circle.

“It is you,” she said warmly, stopping in front of you both. “Wow, it’s been years. How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” Hotch said politely, offering a small smile. “It’s good to see you, Claire.”

Her eyes flicked to you, curiosity plain on her face. “And this must be…?”

“My wife,” Hotch said without hesitation, the words slipping out so naturally that he didn’t even think to correct himself.

You blinked, your lips twitching with amusement as you extended a hand to her. “Hi,” you said, your tone friendly but neutral. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Claire’s smile widened as she shook your hand. “It’s so nice to meet you too. And Jack! Oh, he’s grown so much,” she added, waving at him as he climbed the monkey bars.

Hotch nodded, his gaze following Jack for a moment before settling back on Claire. They exchanged a few pleasantries—updates about mutual acquaintances and polite questions about work—before she finally excused herself, leaving you and Hotch alone again.

“You told a lie,” you said after a moment, your tone casual but laced with quiet amusement.

Hotch turned to you, his brow furrowing slightly. “About?”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a faint smirk. “About me being your wife.”

He paused, the realization settling over him, and then shrugged, his expression unbothered. “Didn’t feel like I needed to call you anything different.”

“Really?” you asked, your smile widening. “Is this what we’re calling it now?”

Hotch glanced at you, his dark eyes steady but soft. “It’s what it feels like,” he said simply. “It’s what we are.”

Your breath hitched slightly, and for a moment, you said nothing, your gaze searching his. Then you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Well, I guess I should get used to it, huh?”

“You’re not opposed, are you?” he asked, his voice low but tinged with amusement.

“Not in the slightest,” you replied, taking a sip of your coffee before looking up at him with a grin. “But if you keep calling me your wife in public, you’re going to have to follow through at some point.”

Hotch chuckled quietly, his lips twitching with a faint smile. “Noted.”

Jack’s shout from the swings broke the moment, and you both turned to watch him wave enthusiastically for your attention. Hotch gave a small wave back, his hand brushing against yours as he lowered it.

And just like that, the conversation shifted back to the simplicity of the morning, but the weight of what had been said lingered in the air. Neither of you felt the need to correct it. After all, it was the truth—whether there was paperwork to prove it or not.

The next instance came at work, during a meeting with another department. A young agent had introduced herself and, glancing between you and Hotch, asked, “So, you and your wife—do you find it hard balancing work and home life at the BAU?”

He didn’t miss the way your eyes flicked to him, your expression unreadable. But he also didn’t hesitate. “It’s a challenge,” he said smoothly, his tone professional but warm. “But we make it work.”

After the meeting, you leaned against the edge of his desk, your arms crossed as you smirked at him. “Wife, huh?”

“Again, would you prefer I said ‘girlfriend’?” he asked dryly, hating the juvenile label, though the corner of his mouth quirked upward.

“Not at all,” you said, tilting your head thoughtfully. “But you do realize you’ve been calling me that a lot lately.”

He shrugged, his gaze steady. “Feels accurate.”

Your smile softened, and you reached out to brush your fingers against his. “Feels accurate to me too.”

It wasn’t until one afternoon in the bullpen that the team finally confronted you both. Emily leaned against Morgan’s desk, her arms crossed as she watched you and Hotch exit his office together. She raised an eyebrow as the two of you exchanged a look and parted ways—Hotch heading toward the coffee station and you to speak with JJ.

“Alright,” Emily said, her tone laced with curiosity as she approached Hotch. “Are you and Y/N married? And don’t try to brush this off—I’ve heard you call her your wife at least three times this week.”

Hotch turned, his brow furrowing slightly. “No, we’re not married,” he said, his tone even.

Emily’s eyes narrowed, skeptical. “Then why do you call her your wife?”

He hesitated for only a moment before answering. “Because it feels more honest than calling her my girlfriend. That doesn’t seem to cover what we are.”

Emily blinked, clearly taken aback by the straightforwardness of his response. “Okay, fair point,” she said slowly. “But what’s stopping you from actually getting married?”

Hotch opened his mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. What was stopping them? He knew it wasn’t fear or hesitation—it hadn’t been for a long time. And the thought of marrying you didn’t fill him with apprehension; it filled him with the same sense of certainty he felt when he called you his wife without a second thought.

“I—” he started, but before he could finish, you appeared at his side, holding a file.

“What’s this about?” you asked, glancing between them.

Emily grinned, her eyes flicking between the two of you. “Just asking your husband here why you two aren’t actually married yet.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, before turning to Hotch. “Well?” you asked, your voice teasing but your expression curious.

Hotch met your gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to quiet around him. “That’s a good question,” he said, his voice steady. “What do you think?”

Your smile widened, your eyes softening as you leaned just slightly closer. “I don’t think either of us have a good reason not to,” you said, your tone light but meaningful.

Emily rolled her eyes but grinned. “Well, when it happens, let us know. Rossi’s already planning your wedding toast.”

As Emily walked away, you and Hotch exchanged a glance, your smiles matching. And for the first time, the idea of making it official didn’t feel like a question of if, but when.

The idea had been with him for weeks, lingering in the back of his mind as he watched you move through your life together. It wasn’t a sudden realization or a dramatic epiphany. It was quiet, steady, and inevitable, much like the way you’d become the most important person in his life. He didn’t need to overthink it because he already knew the answer. You were his partner in every way that mattered, and it was time to make that official.

But Hotch being Hotch, he planned every detail. Not something grand or ostentatious—that wasn’t either of you. Instead, he wanted it to be personal, grounded in the quiet, meaningful moments that had always defined your relationship.

It was a Friday evening, the end of a particularly grueling week at the BAU. You and Hotch had fallen into your routine, picking up Jack from soccer practice and grabbing takeout on the way home. The three of you sat around the dining table, laughing as Jack recounted a story about his coach’s dramatic attempt to demonstrate a bicycle kick. Hotch caught your eye during the meal, the warmth in your gaze settling something deep within him.

After Jack went to bed, you lingered in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over your legs. Hotch joined you, sitting close enough that his knee brushed against yours. The room was quiet now, the only sound the faint hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen.

“You look tired,” you said softly, your hand reaching out to rest on his knee.

He smiled faintly, his hand covering yours. “Long week.”

“You don’t have to tell me that twice,” you replied, your lips curving into a small grin. “But at least we survived it.”

“We always do,” he said, his voice steady, though there was a weight to his words that caught your attention.

You tilted your head, your brows furrowing slightly. “What’s on your mind, Aaron?”

He hesitated for a moment, the weight of the moment pressing on him. But then he reached into his pocket, his movements deliberate but calm, and pulled out a small box. Your eyes widened slightly, and you sat up straighter, your hand still resting on his knee.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he began, his voice low but steady. “About us. About what we’ve built together. It’s not just a routine or a habit. It’s a life. And it’s a life I want to share with you—not just in words or assumptions, but in every way that matters.”

You stared at him, your lips parted slightly, but you didn’t interrupt. He opened the box, revealing a simple, elegant ring. It wasn’t flashy, but it was perfect, understated in the way he knew you’d appreciate.

“I’ve called you my wife more times than I can count,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Because that’s what you are to me. It’s what you’ve been for a long time. And now, I want to make it real.”

His dark eyes met yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Aaron Hotchner let every wall fall away. “Will you marry me?”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward or tense. It was full of the gravity of the moment, the quiet weight of a decision that neither of you had to think twice about.

Your lips curved into a smile, your eyes soft as they brimmed with unshed tears. “Of course I will,” you said, your voice steady but full of emotion. “Yes, Aaron. Yes.”

Relief and joy washed over him, a rare, unguarded smile breaking across his face as he slipped the ring onto your finger. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he pulled you close, his own arms circling your waist.

It wasn’t flashy or elaborate. It was simple, quiet, and utterly perfect. Just like the life you’d built together.

Aaron Hotchner had never been a man who dreamed of grand gestures. His life had taught him the value of simplicity, of finding solace in the quiet moments that others often overlooked. And as he sat with you on the couch that night, your hand resting in his, the weight of the ring now on your finger, he realized that this was everything he’d ever wanted. No fanfare, no spectacle—just you, him, and the life you’d built together.

The days that followed felt much the same, yet somehow entirely different. There was a new ease between you, a sense of certainty that replaced the unspoken tension that had once lingered. At work, the teasing from the team was relentless but good-natured. 

But it was at home, in the moments away from the chaos of the BAU, that the shift was most palpable. You’d catch Hotch watching you with a quiet intensity as you helped Jack with his homework or laughed over a shared joke at dinner. And when you teased him about it, his response was always the same—a faint smile and a simple, heartfelt, “I’m just happy.”

One evening, as you sat curled up on the couch together, Jack asleep in his room, you glanced down at the ring on your finger and then back up at him. “So, husband,” you said, the word rolling off your tongue with a mix of playfulness and warmth, “how long do you think it’ll take before Rossi starts making bets on when the wedding will be?”

Hotch chuckled softly, his hand brushing against yours. “If he hasn’t already, I’d be surprised.”

You grinned, leaning into him, your head resting against his shoulder. “Do you ever think about how far we’ve come? How all of this just… fell into place?”

He turned slightly, his arm wrapping around you as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “It didn’t just fall into place,” he said quietly. “We built it—one step at a time. And I wouldn’t change a single moment of it.”

You looked up at him, your eyes soft but filled with that familiar spark of mischief. “Not even the part where the team found out and started calling us ‘Mom and Dad’?”

He smirked, his hand trailing absently along your arm. “Not even that.”

The two of you sat there in the quiet, the glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the room. It was a life neither of you had expected, but one you’d fought for in your own way. And as Hotch held you close, the future felt less like an unknown and more like a promise—a life you’d continue to build together, one quiet, meaningful moment at a time.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

[mercmenagerie]

A sharp pain had lingered behind Murphy's eyes all damn day, one of those headaches that ended up lasting in the ballpark of several days if he wasn't careful. Stress, and maybe a few too many trips through the respawn last dustup, certainly were the causes, and the engineer found a few things relaxing. So, he'd locked himself up in his workshop and been making the headache all the worse by tinkering and working on the damn wrist joint of his hand that had been sticking (part of the reason he'd gotten killed so many times).

There's an innate sense, which comes from far too many years of having to be conscious about who was staring at him from across a prison yard, that makes the back of Murphy's neck prickle. As a guess, and he'd been wrong more times than not, he glances around the shop. Eyes not adjusting well to the gloom beyond the work table lights, the man frowns.

"Y'out there, Spy? Trying to avoid somebody or what?" Murphy turns his attention back to his arm and tightens another tension screw, hearing the dull ping of it popping into place. That long-drawn silence afterwards has the engineer chuckling to himself for being paranoid. Maybe those senses of his were finally beginning to wear off. This might be a bad thing, seeing as how his current employment needed to have an unhealthy amount of nerves to make sure he didn't get knifed, shot, or otherwise by the enemy team.

↳ ❝ [ @duelplix ] ¡ gets a starter! ❞

[sweemmy]

⋆｡ﾟA family is made not just by blood, but by love, chaos, and endless adventure. And in their case, a little bit of tough love and explosions too. ﾟ｡⋆

— Vi, Caitlyn, Sevika, and Jinx.

VI.

After many conversations filled with questions and uncertainties, you and Vi made the decision to adopt and take that big step toward building a family. At first, Vi was a little unsure, afraid she wouldn’t live up to what motherhood would demand. But everything changed in an instant: when she saw the baby you both had chosen for the first time, her gaze softened with tenderness, and all her doubts vanished. In that moment, you knew you had made the right choice.

From the moment you brought the little one home, Vi became an unshakable source of love and protection. Though she still struggles with the overwhelming feeling of stepping into the role of a mother, her determination never wavers. She is ready to teach her child to face the world with courage, even when it seems like a complicated place.

The sweetest side of Vi shines through when she’s with her child. The house fills with laughter as they dive into intense pillow fights or games of hide-and-seek, where Vi, with a mischievous grin, always lets herself get “found.”

When she heard her child call her “mom” for the first time, she felt a lump in her throat and her heart overwhelmed with emotion. Tears threatened to fall, but true to her style, she tried to cover it up with a smile and her usual: “Who the hell is chopping onions around here?”

CAITLYN.

You and Caitlyn decided to turn to a sperm donor, carefully selecting someone whose values and characteristics perfectly matched what you both envisioned for your family. With her impeccable organizational skills, Caitlyn took charge of the process, ensuring that every step was supported by accurate information and well-thought-out decisions.

She’s one of those moms who’s passionate about instilling education from the very beginning. Sometimes, she goes a little overboard—like when you give her a simple bib, and she’s already imagining stitching the family name in gold thread.

Caitlyn spends peaceful, quiet afternoons walking through the park, gently pushing a baby stroller. She deeply enjoys sharing with her child the simple wonders of life, showing them the vibrant colors of flowers and the cheerful songs of birds, teaching them to appreciate the beauty in the everyday.

Though she seems to have everything under control, there’s a sparkle of emotion in her eyes every time her baby smiles. She’s a mother full of pride, unable to hide the immense love she feels for her family, and she’s not afraid to share that overflowing happiness with the world.

SEVIKA.

Although Sevika wasn't the most enthusiastic about the idea of becoming a mother, you managed to convince her that together they could build a unique family. She doesn’t talk about it much, but when the baby arrived, something in her changed profoundly.

Even though she tries to keep up her tough exterior, there's a softer side to her that comes alive only for her child. She’s the type of mom who grumbles when the kid makes a mess… and then helps clean it up while murmuring, "But don’t tell your mom."

She builds custom toys and practices games that involve physical challenges because "life doesn’t give you a break." Her child adores her, especially when they see her adjusting her mechanical arm like a superhero.

No one, absolutely no one, dares to question her role as a mother. Once, a stranger tried to criticize you as a couple, and Sevika made it clear there wouldn't be a second warning.

JINX.

You and Jinx never planned on having a child, but somehow, fate (and maybe one particularly chaotic day) led you to adopt a little one you found on the streets of Zaun. According to her, "he was a potential ally of chaos."

Jinx is the fun mom who organizes “crazy drawing” competitions and probably lets the kid have ice cream before breakfast. She’s messy, but there’s no shortage of love or dedication.

When her child gets scared, Jinx surprisingly becomes calm. She knows how to comfort him with made-up stories and a soft hug, showing a more vulnerable side of herself.

She wants her child to grow up knowing that there’s nothing wrong with being different. She teaches him to be brave and creative, even if it means explaining later why the baby tried to “decorate” the house with explosive glitter.

[jo-speaks]

🍬 “i never noticed how beautiful filthy words could be.” for us, quinn girlies please

warnings: 18+ content, mdni. shower sex, breeding kink (it's quinn what did you expect), mature language, etc.

note: had to do something long and special for the best defenceman in the league :)

wc: 1306

Waiting in the hall in front of the locker room was usually the most mundane task of every game you attended. Just standing there, throat and body exhausted from cheering Quinn on the whole night. Usually, the other wives and girlfriends made the experience more tolerable, but tonight was a different story.

Even with less of the girls to keep you company, you were bouncing off the walls tonight. Quinn had broken yet another record tonight, your joy radiating off your body in the most obvious way. 

When Quinn stepped out into the halls, his eyes immediately found yours. He was convinced his pupils dilated into hearts once he saw your smile and obvious excitement. You met him halfway, unable to contain yourself as you wrapped your arms around him, causing him to set his bag down to lift you up to wrap your legs around his torso as well. 

“I’m so proud of you, Q.” You mumbled into his cheeks, placing a kiss on his damp skin.

Quinn chuckled, “Thank you, baby.”

“Out of the way, Huggy. Some of us need to drive to see the wife.” Conor joked, placing a playful smack on Quinn’s ass, causing him to jolt and step aside. 

Once he placed a quick kiss on your lips, he set you down with an arm lingering around your waist, not wanting you to go far. He said his goodbyes after everyone poured out of the locker room, walking the two of you to the parking garage. Quinn had rented a car for the duration of this trip, wanting to spend a few of the days in between with his parents and friends.

“313.” You said in astonishment as the two of you settled into the car.

“313.” He parroted, “Even got the puck to prove it.” 

Quinn handed you the game puck of his 313th assist, his physical proof of breaking the record. 

You held it in your hands delicately as if it could break if you held it too tightly. Quinn noticed your inspecting eyes when he glanced over to you, a laugh erupting from his chest.

“What? Never seen a puck before?” He teased, knowing very well you have. 

You scoffed, smacking his arm playfully as you turned to lean your head against the cool window. 

The rest of the car ride to his hotel was a quick one, filled with comfortable silence and the occasional quip of conversation. 

As you stepped into the room, Quinn dropped his bag by the door, surpassing you to face plant on the bed, groaning in satisfaction at the plush material.

You giggled, “Tired?”

He rolled over onto his back with a sigh, “You have no idea. These shifts feel like they’re getting longer each game.”

Taking a seat next to him, you reached a hand to thread into his hair, “That’s the price you pay for being so damn good at hockey.”

The two of you stayed there for a minute, Quinn’s eyes beginning to flutter shut. You noticed, deciding now was probably the best time to wash the day off of you. Quinn had already washed off the game at the arena, but the second he felt your touch disappear and the bathroom door open, he was wide awake again.

He hopped off the bed, hustling to the door before you could shut it. “Wait up.” He said as stepped inside with you.

You laughed at his eagerness, “Didn’t you already shower?”

“Not with you.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned the handle of the shower to your desired warmth, letting it heat up as you stripped yourself of your clothes.

Quinn quickly copied your actions, wanting to get under the water with you as fast as possible. He stepped inside first before tugging you with him, pulling you flush to his chest. His patience had worn out, immediately connecting your lips with his desperately.

You pulled away first, lips quickly finding his skin yet again as they trailed from his cheeks to his neck. You picked a spot, sucking and kissing on it until a deep mark began to bloom. You knew you’d have to cover it up for him later, but that was the least of your concerns at the moment. Right now, you were focused on the sounds escaping Quinn’s lips from just a simple kiss to his skin. 

“Baby.” He groaned, fingers entangling themselves in your hair, tugging you gently away from his neck. 

You sighed, “What do you want, Q. It’s all about you tonight.”

Now, it was his turn to blindside you. He lifted you up, your legs wrapping around him for the second time that night. “Let me fuck you full of me, hm? Give me a little prodigy to make just like me.” 

Your eyes widened at his words. You both had expressed your desire for children very early on in your relationship, yet you hadn’t expected it to come up three years in. Quinn smirked at your reaction, lining himself up to your entrance and slowly pushing himself in. 

“Fuck.” You gasped, “Fill me up, Quinn. Please.”

He let out a sigh as he bottomed out, pressing a swift kiss to your forehead, “Never noticed how beautiful filthy words could be.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he pulled out halfway before pushing himself back in deeper than before. He kept this slow rhythm up, soft groans forming in his throat as he basked in the pleasure you gave him.

“Gonna make such a pretty mom. I can’t wait to see you all swelled up with our baby.” Quinn rambled, losing himself in the thought of you pregnant. 

You cried out at his words, the image filling your head as he sped up, hitting that soft spot inside of you that made you dig your nails into his back as you pulled him closer to you. 

“Make it happen, Quinn. Make it stick.” You whispered, unable to find your full voice as your orgasm crept up on you.

He groaned at your words, unknowingly thrusting his hips faster into you, so desperate to make his fantasy a reality. Bringing up his hand to rub slow circles on your clit, the contrast in speed caused you to snap, moaning out his name along with a stream of words you couldn’t make out in your state of bliss. 

The feeling of you throbbing around him caused Quinn to follow suit, filling you up just as he claimed he would. The feeling of his cum leaking out of you made you whine, the feeling overwhelming you in a good way. 

You both remained still, the water from the showerhead still pouring steadily onto your bodies. You had expected him to pull out of you, but he didn’t. You blinked your eyes open to find the reason for Quinn’s dormant state, not knowing why he was so still. 

To your surprise, Quinn had a locked gaze on what was going on between the two of you. Following his line of sight, you looked down to see Quinn’s cock resting inside of you, a ring of white wrapping the connection of your bodies as some of it dripped down into the floor. 

He was mesmerized at the sight, yes, but that wasn’t the reason he was still. 

“Quinn?” You rasped, gaining his attention but not his eyes. 

He slowly pushed himself deeper into you unexpectedly, eliciting a whine from your throat as your mouth gaped open. 

“Just wanna make sure it sticks.” He mumbled, looking up at you with a mix of love and desire in his eyes. 

You nodded, closing your eyes as you appreciated the closeness. You expected him to stay like this for a few moments more. What you hadn’t expected was for him to start thrusting in and out of you yet again.