#Free SMS Plan

[pxrfqct]

sliding into me while i'm asleep so i wake up with a smile and pvssy full of cvm knowing you couldn't help yourself

[corrodingstars]

bugs I found under a rock

[panbhonpan]

CANDY CULPRITS CANDY CULPRITS CANDY CULPRITS CANDY CULPRITS CANDY CULPRITS CANDY CULPRITS CANDY CULPRITS CANDY CULPRITS CANDY CULPRITS CANDY CULPRITS CANDY CULPRITS CANDY CULPRITS CANDY CULPRITS CANDY CULPRITS CANDY CULPRITS CANDY CULPRITS CANDY CULPRITS CANDY CULPRITS CANDY CULPRITS CANDY CULPRITS CAN-

Wait hold up - who's that?- Guys I think there's something wrong with my screenshot

[choccymilllk]

hey guys get ur day nine of techno doodles days be missing because i am consumed by the craft (i wanna make a pretty base one day and post it here but i am always sidetracked)

[that1gal3-141]

Hi so uh

Self Insert TMA Avatar OC, I G U E S S ?

@nyx1n1te did the drawing (THANK YOU SO MUCH SO PRETTY :DDDD)

Name: Geneva

Pronouns: she/her they/them

Fear: Hmm I Wonder What Her Entity Could Be????

Don't have a *cool* name like The Archivist or w h a t e v e r so just Geneva for now

Basically someone does something horrendous or whatever and wants to keep it a secret but Geneva saw it, but don't worry, it's "Our Little Secret".

Then everyone seems to start making odd little pokes at what you did, like everyone knows your secret, Our Little Secret. Killed someone and buried their body in the woods? General murder and killing references like "I could KILL for some ___" and also talking about like "out in the woods", and it gradually increases more and more until they admit to what they did and it turns out no one knew until you said. Now they do all know. Everyone Knows What You Did.

She can be found in the form seen above (thanks again nyx) around the nearest water source and she sees in the same way as the bad Don't Hex the Water thing. She prefers Water Towers because high up and so vantage point (doesn't need it, just seems fitting).

Oh also the wraps have writing on the inside, of which is the secrets that Geneva knows, but only ever the current secrets, when everyone knows she no longer has that wrap. Always has her ears, nose, and mouth covered.

ok thanks BAI

[einsatzzz]

(Belated) Happy Birthday Yui! 🥰🥰 His birthday is on July 1 haha The twins waited for him to finish working on his machines to celebrate but...he never really finished until morning. Anyway, I followed the theme of selfies that Amano-sensei's art exhibit photocards had for this!

[the-kipsabian]

i need more people to ask about my daughter so please observe her 💜💜💜

[leviiackrman]

OCs AS OBSCURE ASSOCIATIONS Pt. 2 + MUSIC MONTUESDAY;

I was tagged by @perpetuagf to answer these questions for a new oc, as well as being tagged by @simonxriley @corvosattano + @marivenah to post songs relating to my wips - so I merged them! Thank you my beloveds🤍

Tagging: @risingsh0t @sstewyhosseini @chuckhansen @roofgeese @unholymilf @florbelles @arklay @captmactavish @shellibisshe @simonxriley @queennymeria @nokstella @mrdekarios @thedeadthree @jacobseed @jackiesarch @heroofpenamstan @dameayliins @jillvalentinesday @shadowglens @fenharel @alexxmason @yurgir @malefiicarum + @baldurians

Chika x Kakashi Playlist || Obscure OC Associations Pt. 1 || Character Page

SONGS:

Sorry - Halsey

Sorry Mom x - Halflives

Big Girls Don’t Cry - Fergie

Lethal Woman - Dove Cameron

thenineteenseventyfive - Push Baby

Fly on the Wall - Miley Cyrus

ANIMAL: squirrels, dogs, pigs

COLORS: cream, black, forest green, sand

MONTH: april

NUMBER: 29, 3, 1

PLANTS: Japanese maple, flowering quince, any medicinal and/or poisonous plants

SMELLS: antiseptic solution, dust, soil

TIME OF DAY: twilight, early morning

GEMSTONE: emerald

SEASON: warm summers

PLACES: densely packed forest, sandstorms, around a campfire

FOOD: bocchan dango, mochi, onigiri, miso soup

DRINKS: black tea, small amounts of sake, milk, water

ELEMENT: earth, air

ASTROLOGICAL SIGNS: taurus

SEASONING: ponzu, katsuobushi, karashi, mild spices

WEATHER: light rain, soft breeze

SKY: clouded skies or half moon skies

MAGICAL POWER: medical nin, summoning, transforming, secret jutsu: poisoned blood

WEAPON: acupuncture needles, poisoned needles, kunai, paper bombs

SOCIAL MEDIA: 100% a Reddit gal. Would stalk the shit outta people and find EVERY piece of info about them lmao

MAKEUP PRODUCT: opaque eyeshadow, eyeliner, intense blush/face paint, dark lipstick

CANDY: dorayaki (red bean pancakes), higashi, castella

METHOD OF LONG DISTANCE TRAVEL: running lmao, summoning jutsu (in difficult situations), expandable cloth to fly/glide like a squirrel

ART STYLE: minimalism, baroque

FEAR: causing comrades/friends deaths, being a leader, failing at what she’s good at/known for (ie saving lives), confined spaces (yknow… being buried alive and all)

MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: tailed beasts (muhahahahaha)

PIECE OF STATIONARY: pencil (can do sm but is v fragile), scrolls

THREE EMOJIS: 🐿️🍃🩻

CELESTIAL BODY: Neptune, Pluto, crescent moons

[lunaetis]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FAVORITE SPACE RACCOON, EDEN !!

[arolesbianism]

Doodle I did of my girl Juliet earlier

[malikselfindulgence]

how about 10?

10: how do you deal with art-block?

Redrawing old stuff! No thinking required and also seeing my improvement helps motivate me :33 besides that I also rlly like going through pinterest boards for outfits I had saved to draw my ocs in!!

I also have tabs on my fav books of scenes that made me want to draw or scenes that felt really colorful in my mind while reading, so if I'm feeling emotional I'll look through those as well!! THANK YOU FOR THE ASK AGXHXHFv

[xx-purg3-m4rch-xx]

pence pence

[invoncible]

viltrumite mark & f! reader, MDNI. — mark suspects you're trying to baby trap him ... which is sooo crazy cuz that's what he was doing too ! long live the empire ... or something cw. mutual manipulation, toxicity, mutual baby trapping, breeding, mentions of pregnancy — a/n i hate this sm i can't even proofread it,, definitely lost the plot but anyways enjoy

your back hit the mattress with a soft gasp. mark tossed your shredded clothes to the floor without a second thought, broad shoulders crowding you as he loomed over the bed. his eyes drank you in, heavy and half-lidded with something more than lust—something deep and possessive.

your handsome boyfriend was many things: meticulous, strong, patient... too patient. too gentle. you loved those things about him, but you wanted to take it to the next level... you figured he just needed a little motivation!

you'd been pissing him off all day and he couldn't figure out what he did wrong to deserve your bratty behavior. wearing all his favorite clothes but ignoring him, wearing his favorite scent but refusing to let him come near you, making plans but forgetting to include him—you knew exactly what you were doing. and now you were right where you wanted to be—under him, trembling, exposed.

"you’re so beautiful," he muttered, voice wrecked with want. "but you were so mean today."

his hands roamed possessively, spreading you open. his fingers dragged up your inner thigh, thumb teasing the slick mess leaking from your pussy. he groaned at the sight of it. "so wet already, love. all that attitude today just cuz you wanted me to fuck it outta you?" he chuckled lowly. "all you had to do was ask, sweet girl. you know i love to satisfy you."

you whimpered beneath him, fingers curling into his forearms. his cock pressed against your entrance, swollen head nudging just right to make your hips twitch.

"mark, baby, please," you whispered, glossy-eyed and desperate.

his gaze darkened, lips twitching into a smirk. "i don't know... i haven't forgotten how you misbehaved." he cooed, dragging the head of his cock through your folds—slow, teasing strokes that made you squirm. "even this feels like too much mercy for you..."

"i'm sorry!" you weren't. "i won't ignore you again!" you would, especially if it meant he’d take you like this.

he clicked his tongue, voice dipping lower. "mm."

you were close. so close. weeks of carefully planned sabotage; throwing out every last condom, doubling up on supplements behind his back, doing every last thing to rile him up. all you needed was for him to stop thinking and act.

"you mean it?"

you nodded vigorously, clawing at his arms. "mhm! i mean it, promise! pleeeease, mark—" your legs fastened around his waist, coaxing him forward.

he cursed as he leaned over to the side of the bed, practically yanking the side drawers open, rifling around for condoms. but you were pulling on his free hand and it was getting hard to think straight with your pretty whines.

"'m on the pill," you said hurriedly. you weren't. "just—just c'mere, please? i need you..."

"shh, i know." he smiled languidly over his shoulder, but his facade meant nothing to you; you could see the way his breathing grew uneven. "give me a second."

"no!" you cried, harshly tugging him back towards you, gripping his shoulders so tightly your nails left crescent-shaped dents in his skin, just the way he liked.

he stared down at you. if he didn't know the context, he'd confuse your urgency for something far more serious, like you were on the verge of dying or something.

"now, mark," you whispered. "i wanna feel you."

his cock throbbed hard against your entrance, already soaked with how ready you were. his sweet girl, soft and pliant and so fucking pretty when you begged. the way your eyes shimmered, your lips pouted just for him... he was gone a long time ago, but now he really couldn’t think straight.

but one thing was bugging him...

initially, mark was not worried about you catching on to his plans. you trusted him with all your heart! of course you wouldn't think twice if he bought the cheapest condoms that could possibly break... or if he took over meal prep, feeding you dishes and smoothies that were super healthy for you. he had to keep his future wife healthy, of course, for multiple reasons.

the viltrumite empire was coming for earth. he knew that well—it was his whole purpose. but you're soft, precious, and so annoyingly human in your fragility—you didn't deserve to be the enemy. he couldn't stand by and see you suffer by his people's hands, not when he loved you so.

so he decided knocking you up was for your benefit. to him, it was the obvious solution. both of you always talked about having a family anyway...

but your behavior lately was getting sloppy with desperation, and he was beginning to realize how cunning you truly were. you were insatiable, always conveniently forgetting to remind him of protection, and all those new wellness habits you adopted—what were they for, really? he was only turned on more by the thought of you sneaking around trying to get him to put a baby in you. you wanted him that bad? wanted him in the same way he wanted you?

strangely enough, the revelation didn't make him feel better. you wanted something more from him and instead of letting him do it right the first time, you tried to sneak and do it yourself? were you aware of how many times he wanted to throw you on the nearest surface and fuck his seed into you til it took? all the cum he wasted when it could've been spilling into you, properly, where it belonged?

he grunted with annoyance, life returning to his body when he slammed into you—one swift motion, burying himself to the hilt with a groan that ripped from his chest. your cunt stretched to take him, walls fluttering, gripping him so tight it made his eyes squeeze shut.

you gasped sharply, back arching off the warm mattress when you felt him prodding at your cervix. even in your ecstasy, you remembered to dig your heels into his back, pulling him close and deep and making sure he stayed there.

mark's eyes flitted down your body, restless with desire, and your gentle boyfriend vanished.

"you happy?" he muttered sharply, thrusting deep and fast. "you feeling me now?"

you couldn’t speak. couldn’t think. you were gone already, your nails clawing down his back, tears leaking from your lashes as he ruined you. every inch of him hit just right, every thrust punching a moan from your chest.

"mark—"

"shut up," he snapped, gripping your hips for better leverage to piston into you, completely lost with the blazing heat of your cunt swallowing his cock with every thrust of his hips. "you wanted this," he panted, thumb pressing to your clit hard enough to make you jolt. "wanted me to lose it, huh? wanted me to fuck you full and give you a baby?"

wait. "huh?" your eyes fluttered open.

he laughed, "don't act dumb, now. m'not mad. proud of you, actually—" he cut himself off, biting his tongue as his thoughts were consumed by his lower half.

your brain barely processed the words spilling from his mouth—all you could do was nod and preen under the fact that your plan worked. you were so far gone, so cockdrunk.

"my perfect girl," he hummed hoarsely, hips stuttering as your gummy heat tightened around him. "should've done this sooner. no one'll touch you, ever."

"i—"

"shh," he leaned back on his legs, scooping handfuls of your ass and fucked down into your fluttering walls like you were his personal fleshlight. "i’ll give you what we’ve both been wanting—" a pitiful whine tumbled off his lips as he continued to rant whatever filth came to his mind. "over 'nd over 'nd over again ‘til there’s no way you won’t get knocked up…"

mark’s palm spread across your lower stomach, pinning you down while his cock dragged deep, like he was memorizing every inch of you from the inside out.

you whined, warmth blooming in your core and gushing around him. he leaned closer, breath ghosting the shell of your ear as his hips rolled forward again, so deep you could hardly breathe.

"i'll make all of them strong," he gritted out. "but they’ll be soft and beautiful like you."

you could barely process what he was saying with the way his cock squished that spongy spot deep inside consistently, only picking up bits and pieces. "all of them?"

"oh, yeah. we're not stopping at one. they'll have to protect you,” he continued, a laugh on his lips. “every single one of them."

you clenched down on him involuntarily, biting your lip as your body trembled beneath the weight of his promise.

"does that please you, love?" he asked, almost amused, gaze flickering down to watch the way your body took him. "knowing you’ll never be alone again?"

he pulled back, just the tip inside, before slamming back in with a sharp grunt. your breath hitched, hands fisting in the sheets. "mm. you’ll be revered," he muttered, eyes burning. he wanted to make you wait for it, but even he was itching to abandon his gloating. "you're doing great work for the empire. they will honor you; i’ll honor you."

mark kissed your temple with chilling tenderness. "what a privilege it is to make you mine like this. you were made for me.” he shifted, grabbing your hips with both hands now, fucking you a little harder—still slow, still controlled, but sharper, like his restraint was slipping with every second.

"you’ll be so beautiful," he murmured drunkenly, almost to himself, "round and tired and soft… and i’ll take care of everything, love. you’ll stay in bed, right here, where i can keep you safe and full." his thumb circled your clit lazily, coaxing your pleasure from you.

you cried out, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach, and mark swallowed your moan with a lazy kiss. your legs tightened around his waist. your orgasm crept in slowly, curling from the base of your spine and tightening in your belly. your walls fluttered around him, hips trembling without control as he stayed buried deep.

"mark—" you whispered, your grip tight.

"i know." he hissed, every bone in his body focused on seeing you through. "come on, we got a few more rounds to go after this one, love."

your release cracked through you like lightning, pulsing waves of pleasure rippling through your body as your vision blanked. heavily breathing, you slumped against the mattress, gushing around his cock and soaking the sheets below.

feeling you milk him was it for mark—he groaned as he came hard, spilling buckets deep inside you, twitching with each thick rope of seed painting your walls. mark collapsed on top of you, nudging himself deeper despite the sensitivity to make sure you milk every drop, adamant on avoiding waste.

while he's focused on making the plan work, you’re busy being dizzy with ecstasy at the thought of succeeding in the first place. through the fog of his mind, mark watches your chest rise and fall, a ghost of a smile on your face, and he's wants to go again—he needs to go again, keep you stuffed and satiated. and how could he not feel that way when you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close to your clammy skin? he snuck an arm under your lower back and met you halfway, pulling you flush against him, still buried deep.

he'd let you catch your breath, bring you some water, and massage your tender limbs... because you weren't leaving the bed any time soon. now that you were on the same page, you both had some work to do 𖹭

© invoncible

[ncthandrake]

gonna try and get on my desktop and ps5 later to play & record some games so if anyone has any gif requests feel free to send any ! 💖

[beloveds-embrace]

Fuck it, we ball, I hope that disrespectful anon gets hemorrhoids and they can't get them removed until next year, AND that their insurance doesn't cover it. I'm here thinking about your Omega idea where omegas normally do the pursuing, but with a slight twist; the boys being the omegas. An alpha who is for sure down bad for the boys, but thinks "ah, theyre out of my league, I should be aiming lower, manage my expectations". Only 141 is just as down bad for them, and they're doing everything just short of screaming "PICK UP ON THE HINTS, COME INTO OUR HOUSE AND BEDS AND LIVES AND STAY FOREVER PLEASE"

Johnny is about to say fuck decorum and just show up in reader's house wearing nothing but a ribbon and a tag that says 'free to a good home' (your home is the good one, please keep him, there is no receipt so you can't return him).

Price has the brain cell normally in terms of trying to gently coax you into getting you to say you're into them, he has a 15 step plan that may or may not involve using his various contacts to get you spending more time in close proximity to them. Also he for some reason is always baking, he always comes over asking you for sugar? (He'll take any kind of 'sugar' you're willing to offer, he loves making a variety of cream pies)

Gaz is always gently inviting them to attend 'friend' things, things that could be a date but that he can excuse as 'well we're coworkers/friends/neighbors, we should get along :)'. It's just a coincidence that various other people seem to bail except for any of the other boys, now why don't you sit beside him so you guys can share popcorn at the movies (you both always seem to be reaching for it at the same time, if your fingers touched anymore you might as well be holding hands)

Simon is chasing off any omegas he thinks are a threat to them getting reader, that is THEIR alpha, paws OFF (rip to anyone reader was halfheartedly going on dates with, this man is gonna become those people's sleep paralysis demon)

Hope you enjoy!! :3 💕💕 i lovedddd writing this sm omg

See, the thing is, you’d always thought of yourself as a decent Alpha. Not overbearing, not egotistical, not a demanding freak- just capable and steady. But you weren’t extraordinary. Not the kind of Alpha Omegas like them would look at twice. And so, while you worked alongside the men of Task Force 141 you convinced yourself to be content with just admiring them from a distance.

You couldn’t help it. They were perfect, as far as you were concerned. Perfect, and fully out of your league.

Surely, Omegas like them would want someone better. Someone stronger. You’d told yourself that so many times it was practically your mantra, the only way you’d be able to stop yourself from pursuing them. They deserved someone more charismatic, more confident- an Alpha who could match their brilliance. Not someone like you, fumbling through conversations with them, struggling to keep your feelings in check.

But they’d already decided. They didn’t need a flashy Alpha or someone who tried too hard. What they wanted was you. The only problem? You didn’t seem to realize it, no matter how obvious they made it.

John took the lead, naturally. He knew you were cautious and perhaps a little insecure when it came to relationships (it was fucking visible in you, silly Alpha. He scoffs each time you draw back, frustrated), so he made it his mission to draw you in- slowly and subtly. His plan was meticulous: get you comfortable, build trust, and create opportunities for you to spend more time with them so you’d see that they only want you.

Maybe then you’d break out of that stupid shell you’ve put yourself in.

He’d started baking regularly, a habit you hadn’t even known he had. At least once a week, he’d show up at your place with a tin of cookies, a loaf of fresh bread, or a perfectly golden pie. “Thought I’d share,” he’d say casually, though the slight smirk tugging at his lips told a different story. He peers at you, letting his scent coil just a bit more. “I hope you don’t mind the amount of cream. I happen to like cream pies a lot.”

The way to an Alpha’s heart is through their stomach, and all that.

If he wasn’t offering you baked goods, he was asking for your help to make said baked goods. “Ran out of sugar again,” he’d sigh, handing you an empty container. “Mind sparing a bit?”

It was ridiculous, downright unbelievable how often he supposedly ran out of baking supplies. But his visits became a highlight of your week, and the lingering looks he gave you left your heart pounding long after he was gone.

The one time he’d handfed you, watching you lick the syrup from his fingers with half-lidded eyes, still lives in your mind rent-free.

Kyle took a softer, more personal approach. He wasn’t above using the pretense of friendship to spend time with you, often inviting you to casual dates- grabbing coffee, going to the movies, or just walking through town and shopping. Every invitation was framed innocently, but there was always a little extra effort behind it. He’d pick a movie he knew you’d like, suggest places he knew you’d find interesting, and ensure that others you unfortunately knew joined just enough to make it seem less like a date.

Somehow, though, those other people always mysteriously canceled. It was never anything dramatic- just a sudden cold, a scheduling conflict, or a “something came up, sorry.” Eventually, it would be just you and a very smug Kyle, sitting close enough that your knees brushed or reaching for popcorn at the same time. Once, right as the bowl emptied and you both reached for it, Kyle simply thought fuck it and held your hand.

On one occasion, you both shared a bowl of spaghetti and ended up with the scene from the Lady and the Tramp.

It was so painfully obvious to everyone.

Except you.

“It’s not a coincidence,” Kyle muttered to Johnny one evening after you left, both of them sitting in the spot you were in, bathing in the leftover warmth and scent. “How can they not notice?”

Speaking of Johnny; he’s barely keeping himself together. Subtlety in missions are a must sometimes, but he doesn’t want to that with you anymore. He was just so, so, so frustrated with your obliviousness. What more does he need to do to show you that he- that they- want you?

He’s been dropping so many hints; half-jokes about Omegas waiting begging to be swept off their feet, suggestive winks when you compliment him in that lovely, adoring tone of yours. Once, while watching a romantic tv show, he’d sighed loudly and very pointedly said: “If only someone would claim me.”

“If ye don’t figure it out soon,” he growled at the others one night, pacing back and forth like a wild beast and probably on his way to leave a dent in the carpet, “I’m showin’ up at their doorstep with nothin’ but a red bow, like some bloody Christmas prezzie, I swear to god.”

John sighs, rolling his eyes. “You do that, and I’m leaving you on their porch.”

“That’s exactly what I’m askin’ for!”

Simon took the quietest but most direct approach. Just not exactly direct towards you. While the others worked to get closer to you, Simon focused on eliminating what he saw as obstacles: other Omegas who thought you were free for the taking. It didn’t matter if they were serious or just someone you’d gone on a casual date with- Simon saw them all as threats.

He didn’t have to say much to scare them off. A single cold glare from across the room, sharp bursts of his scent, or a low, menacing comment was usually enough to send them packing. He didn’t care if it was excessive.

You were his Alpha. You were their Alpha, and no one else had a right to you.

But even Simon softened when it came to you. He couldn’t put all his thoughts, all his feelings into words, so he did them with his actions. Quiet protectiveness, gentle, careful touches. Moments of fleeting vulnerabilities shared between you and him.

He was always there for you. Even if you didn’t know you need him with you.

Still, despite all their efforts, you remained convinced that they weren’t interested.

In the end, to no one’s surprise, it’s Johnny who snaps. Johnny, so close to his heat, so absolutely done with your obliviousness and the Omegas that aren’t them talking with you when you should be only focused on them.

He doesn’t care; leaves the carefully made nest with your stolen shirts and none of the others stop him when he just. Drags your surprised self to the nest.

“Johnny! You-“

“I want you.” He hisses, bares his teeth all sharp and desperate. “We want you. And damn it, we will have you.”

And well, who are you to even say no when this is all you have wanted?

[mariasont]

maria, i have an ideaaa!!

bimbo!assistant!reader goes on a date with a really shitty guy. and she sneaks away to the back door and calls hotch in the alley to come and save her (it’s also raining). she’s all wet and her makeup’s all ruined when hotch comes.

he then takes her back to his place and takes care of her… and… mushy soft fluffiness happens… and maybe feelings are confessed… and maybe a kiss or 2 happens…🥰💖

TALK ABOUT A BAD DATE - A.H

a/n: genius, genius, you are an absolute genius!!!!!!!!!!! this was probably my fav bimbo!reader fic to write <3 thank you sm for requesting

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: um the rain takes out reader's shirt, so she does kinda flash him for a hot sec, hotch also blatantly checks out her ass, cuties being sickeningly cute, cuties kiss in 4k

wc: 2k

A perfect, flawless, stunning, never-been-done before outfit wasted on a loser of a guy. Your makeup had taken an hour alone, your hair—well, you didn't even want to think about it because you were certain you were starting to break out in hives.

You steadied yourself against the brick wall, the uneven asphalt beneath your heels threatening to take you down as you fished your phone from the depths of your purse.

You dialed the first number you could think of--Hotch's. His was also the only one you had memorized. The battery icon flashed a warning of five percent as you hunched beneath the alleyway's awning, trying to shield yourself from the rain. You desperately hoped he'd pick up.

There was frankly no plan B if he didn't. Go back inside and ask you so-called date for a ride? That was not an option. The moment he pulled up in one of those big trucks, with its deafening music and roaring engine, you regretted not driving yourself. After all, you were well aware what men were compensating for with a big truck.

"Hotchner."

His voice was gruff, the sound slightly distorted by the speaker. You imagined he had just walked through his door, despite the time being eight o'clock on a Friday night. He was presumably preparing to pour his routine glass of scotch.

"Sir, it's me," you said, attempting to ignore the relentless raindrops assaulting your makeup--a battle they seemed intent on winning. Clearly, the concept of setting spray was foreign to them. "Can I ask you for a favor? If you say yes, I pinky promise I'll stop rearranging your desk. I know you have a system, but it just looks so bland sometimes."

"I'm going to overlook that desk comment," he stated, his sigh audible through the phone. You could picture the pensive frown that came with it. "What do you need?"

You drew your lips into a tight line, looking down to watch the rain mock the effort you had put into your outfit.

"Can you come pick me up? Pretty please with sugar on top?"

"Pick you up? From where? Are you okay?"

You shivered slightly, your free hand instinctively rubbing warmth into your arm. You should've brought a jacket. The thought of sharing this evening's failings with your boss did not sound appealing, so you avoided most of his questions.

"I'll text you the location, okay?"

"Okay, yes, I'll be there. Just stay put."

You thanked him and followed that by a double promise to stay put (he didn't believe you the first time). You also told him you'd wait inside, which was less than truthful. The thought of getting drenched was far more attractive than the prospect of bumping in that women-hating boy again.

You didn't have to wait long, thankfully, spotting Hotch's car turn into the alley, the headlights flaring up like spotlights against your face. You used a manicured hand to shield your eyes, narrowing them against the glare. The distinct sound of a door opening and closing signaled his arrival, and soon, Hotch was striding towards you.

"Christ, get in the car," Hotch insisted, more a command than a suggestion.

He was by your side in an instant, his arm on yours as he opened your door and helped you in. Then, unexpectedly, he reached over you to fasten the seatbelt. You giggled, his hand pausing just above your thigh.

"What?"

The rain gently streamed over his perfect skin, his hair now saturated and plastered to his brow, his blue dress shirt bearing the brunt of the downpour.

"You don't trust me to buckle my own seatbelt?"

"I don't trust you with a lot of things." Completely false. "For instance, your choice of men." Completely true.

He clicked the seatbelt into place and swung the door shut, cutting off any chance of a response, then moved around the car to the driver's side.

You can't help but pout, even as your eyes traced the line of his jaw. "How'd you know?"

Any trace of annoyance vanished as quickly as it came as he placed a hand behind you, giving you an even better view of his profile while he reversed the car. Your focus shifted to the ripple of muscles under his shirt.

"I'm trained to know when someone is in distress and you practically spelled it out. The restaurant, the clothes..." His voice tapered off, disguising his pause with a cough while his gaze flickered over your outfit, his cheeks tinged with a fleck of red. "I've got a spare sweatshirt in the back if you need it."

You traced his line of sight to your chest. Emitting a small squeak, you quickly shielded yourself with your arms, realizing that your white top had become completely see through.

"Totally not embarassing," you say, pursing your lips as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

"It's fine," Hotch insists, but you don't miss how his eyes are now careful not to drift from the road. "Put your seatbelt back on."

"I can't reach the sweatshirt."

You shift to face the back, knees planted on your seat as you lean over to grab just the thing you were looking for. In the rearview mirror you catch the brief moment his eyes do stray, discreetly (or so he thought) sweeping over your ass.

A self-satisfied smile crept across you face as you slid back into your seat, slipping on the sweatshirt. It smelled like him—an intoxicating blend of aged leather and pine. You liked it. A lot.

"So do you wanna talk about it?"

You really didn't. With a sigh, you dug through your purse for your lip gloss. Flipping down the passenger mirror, you froze, confronting your reflection.

"Hotch, didn't you think to mention my face is all... smudgy?"

Your mascara (and setting spray) had betrayed you, leaving dark trails down your cheeks and a slightly unhinged look.

"Your face is perfect," Hotch remarks dryly, like he was tired of you, he undoubtedly was. You were a handful after all. "Why are you avoiding my question?"

You let out a delighted gasp.

"Did you just say my face is perfect?" Leaning over the console, you tap his nose with your finger. "You're just the sweetest."

The look Hotch gives you is flat, expectant as if he knows just what you were trying to do.

"Okay, okay, fine, it was just a terrible date. Like, Hotch, I'm talking disaster-level bad. He made fun of my job, ate like a toddler, and his truck? He wouldn't shut up about it." Your hands are now shuffling through the contents of your purse in a panic. "And now, I can't find my keys."

"Your house keys?"

A breath of frustration flows from you, fingers pulling through your hair as you nod. "Dang it."

You felt a slight unraveling in your usual poise, and the panicking that came with it. Hotch's hand landed on your shoulder, his thumb grazing across your collarbone.

"Hey, it's fine. It's late, and you're upset. You can stay at my place tonight, I'll crash on the couch, and we'll find your keys in the morning."

He made everything seem so simple.

"I'm not upset," you insist, lips pursing as you angle your body just enough to feel his touch more fully.

His hands felt right on you.

He chuckled quietly, his thumb tracing a path from your shoulder to brush away the solitary tear beneath your eye that you hadn't noticed before.

"Must be a raindrop," you shrug. Hotch's soft laugh tells you he doesn't quite buy it. "Are you sure you don't mind me staying over?"

"I'm certain."

"Okay."

"So why did your date make fun of your job?"

"Because," you start, your fingertip lazily sketching doodles on the misted car window, "when I was telling him about being an assistant and working for you, he implied that the only reason you hired me was so you had something pretty to look at."

"Well, he's not entirely wrong."

You let out a surprised giggle. "Hotch!"

You reach over the console, pinching his arm which he just laughed off, pulling into what you assumed was his driveway. You had never been to his house. It was nice. Really nice, the kind you'd find in movies—not imposing, but inviting, with its brick walls and stout brown pillars framing the porch.

You were even more surprised when you entered the house. The image you had of Hotch's house one of meticulous order, a place where you could hear the tick of a clock from rooms away. But this... this was a home. There were throw blankets casually draped over the couch, books overflowing, armchairs worn in just the right places.

You lean down, intent on stripping off the torturous heels, but a wobble has you teetering. Hotch is quick to step in.

"Here," he offers, lifting each foot in turn to his knee, skillfully undoing the straps and easing them off you.

Standing flat-footed, you suddenly feel much shorter, and you wonder if Hotch has ever seen you without them.

You look up at him, smiling cheekily. "My very own prince charming."

He ignored you and moved through the living room. "Do you want a pair of sweatpants?"

"Sharing clothes now, are we? I bet there's a clause against this in the employee handbook."

Hotch raises an eyebrow, "I don't think I need to remind you of the numerous times I've overlooked your creative interpretations of the handbook rules."

"So you're admitting to showing me favoritism?"

You plucked the sweatpants from his hands, not giving him an option to respond as you shuttled yourself into his bathroom. You changed quickly, trading your sopping wet clothes for Hotch's dry, warm ones.

You reentered the living room to find Hotch reclining on the couch with an ease that was new to your eyes. He, too, had slipped into something more comfortable—sweats and a form fitting grey long sleeve that threatened to distract you completely.

You dropped your purse onto the coffee table and settled next to him, maybe a little closer than you should have.

He let out a sound that was more a breath than a laugh, a sound that all the same made your heart flutter unexpectedly. "You've still got some, uh, makeup under your eyes."

He reached up to wipe it away with his thumb.

"It won't come off that way," you said, grabbing his wrist with a soft smile. "I have makeup wipes in my purse."

But he didn't hand you your bag like you would've thought, instead he dug through it, pulling out the wipes and starting to dab at your face. The softness of his touch felt disarmingly intimate, so gentle it coaxed your eyes to flutter more slowly, eyelids becoming more heavy.

Your head tilted downward and Hotch used his free hand to tilt it back up. "Stay still, or I'm going to poke your eye out."

"You're making me sleepy," you murmur, your voice a soft, drowsy hum, but then he moved the wipe to your lips and suddenly you were anything but.

He was even more gentle with your lips, if that was possible, wiping away the gloss like you were made of glass.

Your eyes snapped open, and you found yourself gazing into his warm, brown-sugared eyes, your heart thundering in your chest. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. How did you get so close? You weren't sure, but he was there, noses almost touching.

He pulled away the wipe, using his thumb to clean up left over gloss though you were sure there wasn't any. His hand paused there, resting on your lower lip like it was meant to be there. You felt every fiber of your being stand on high alert. You wondered what he was thinking.

Did he want to kiss you as much as you wanted to kiss him?

"Are you going to kiss me?" You asked, half-hopeful, half-daring, giving a microphone to your inner monologue.

He took a moment, eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes then back down again. "Yes."

It was certain. Like there was no doubt about it, but he didn't move.

"Okay, I'm ready," you breathed out, pulse roaring in your ears.

Hotch's laughter was a low and warm sound. You had heard it a lot tonight.

"You kill me," he said, and it wasn't patronizing—it was affectionate and genuine, and it made your whole body turn to mush.

Then his lips were on yours, and you were both laughing, the sound muffled by lips. It was tentative at first but it quickly morphed into something sweet and soft and perfect.

"Aren't you glad my date went terribly?" you mumbled into his soft skin.

"Devastatingly glad."

One thing was clear—Hotch was not going to end up sleeping on the couch tonight.

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