#I Will be accepting boss levels too

[itsmarsss]

Ill give my spoiler free thoughts on the episode.

First and only helluva episode to make me genuinely cry. I had to pause the episode to calm down.

watched it!!!!

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[themslash]

the good news though is despite my illness i did pick up etrian odyssey 4 on my newly fixed 3ds and i did pass the first stratum in the past 2 days

[cupressacea]

#okay i know i reblogged this already but#thinking about that cheektouch#about how when moiraine pulls away siuan doesn't#making me think that it's happened before#and i wonder:#has moiraine been skittish??#been so long untouched that when she gets back it's hard to believe in siuan's caress?#has she pulled back before thinking she doesn't deserve comfort?#or has she found it too hard to dance along that line between public secret and private life?#because whatever it is#siuan knows just what to do#knows to wait it out and let her settle#even when moiraine maybe doesn't fully want to#she does give in and let herself rest#at last.#wheel of time#moiraine damodred#siuan sanche (@sapphoshands)

(x)

[bakafox]

I sometimes wonder if a lot of people on the left just don't let themselves be consciously aware that yes, the people who back authoritarianism, fascism, and generally n*zi bullcrap will be voting. On all levels, local to national. All the time.

Because like, people who aren't authoritarian in leaning will argue. Will point out that there's cons and be depressed sometimes easily that there is no perfect candidate.

But- the very point of being an authoritarian is that once they choose their authority, they do what they are told.

They are told to vote by one politician they decided is on their side to vote for another one and will do it without many, if any, questions.

They're told to vote (illegally if it's during a service) by their pastor, by their boss, by their parents, by their spouse, by someone in authority over them that they have accepted as the authority, and they'll go out and do it.

Some of them can snap out of it if it really goes too much against some spark inside, but the whole thing of their wanting a simplistic us vs them world view where they can just sit back and do what they're told and feel better, comfortable, or even superior for doing it means that they'll go do as they're told and then feel good and superior about doing it.

This is how they've long-gamed the GOP to where it is today, that's what is meant when people say "the Republicans just go out and vote". They do that! And they vote without putting any thought into it, without stressing much about imperfections.

Non authoritarians/non-fascists are more likely to give up, or argue against candidates, or just be contrarian, and thus might rather shoot themselves in the foot when it comes time to just doing what is a civic duty to try and prevent the rise of what the other side will always, always turn out in their full numbers to back.

Even if they live in an area where theoretically they would be outvoted 20 to 2, they will show up 'defiantly' and cast their votes for the person they have been told by someone they have decided to trust told them to vote for. Even if they don't know a damn thing about the candidate other than two talking points from a campaign ad or that were talked about at the church social.

This doesn't make any voting at all useless, it doesn't make anyone who votes sheep. It makes voting absolutely required by anyone opposing them. Not 'instead' of community action and protests and letters or whatever the fuck else, but along with.

It means as long as there are any elections, yes, to avoid fascists winning elections 'fairly' (not gonna get into gerrymandering here,) people have got to show up and vote against them, because the fascist voters aren't going to take a mental health day or write in a joke or go third party. Some person whose authority clicked a little circuit in their brain on, who maybe got them riled up about <one thing> told them to vote for <whoever> and they are going to vote for <whoever>, regardless of whatever <other things> are out there being ignored as less consequential.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Throw A Tantrum

Mafia Boss!Lizzie Olsen x fem!reader

Summary: Lizzie won't stop asking you to marry her, it's become a game between you two now, but when Lizzie doesn't handle a situation right you blow off and go on a little shopping trip with her card

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: Lizzie and you have an argument

A/N: This is based off of this post

You always knew there was something different about Lizzie. Growing up together in the quiet suburbs, she always had this aura of command around her, even as kids. But you never imagined that one day she would become the head of the mafia, and you certainly didn't expect her to want to marry you.

Living with Lizzie in her sprawling, luxurious penthouse was an experience in itself. The place was a stark contrast to your childhood homes, filled with top-of-the-line furnishings and an almost intimidating level of sophistication. But despite the opulence, there were small touches that made it feel like home—photos of the two of you over the years, your favorite books on the shelves, and the cozy blanket you always curled up with draped over the back of the couch.

One evening, you were curled up on that very couch, reading a book, when Lizzie strolled into the living room. She leaned against the doorframe, her presence both comforting and intimidating, a paradox you had come to accept.

"Marry me," Lizzie said, for the hundredth time, her tone half-serious, half-teasing. Her dark green eyes sparkled with mischief as she looked at you.

"No," you replied with a smirk, not even looking up from your book. It was a ritual between you two by now, a game you both enjoyed. Despite your refusals, Lizzie never stopped asking, and you never stopped saying no, but it was all part of the dance you two shared.

"You know," Lizzie began, walking over to sit next to you on the couch, "you'd make a perfect mafia queen. You've got the attitude for it."

"And you have the persistence of a stalker," you shot back, finally meeting her gaze. Her eyes softened, a look that made your heart race.

"I just know what I want," Lizzie said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "And I always get what I want."

You rolled your eyes, though the fluttering in your chest was hard to ignore. "You can't just go around deciding people's lives for them, Lizzie."

"Maybe not everyone," she conceded, a sly smile playing on her lips, "but you? You're different."

"Different how?" you challenged, leaning in slightly.

"Different as in, you're already my wife in every way that matters," she said softly, her fingers grazing your cheek. "I spoil you, protect you, and love you more than anything in this world."

Your heart skipped a beat at her words. Despite your playful refusals, you were deeply in love with Lizzie. You just couldn't admit it out loud, not when her life was filled with danger and uncertainty. But every touch, every glance she gave you made it harder to resist her.

"You're delusional," you teased, trying to keep the mood light, but your voice betrayed your true feelings.

"Maybe," she whispered, her lips now inches from yours, "but I wouldn't have it any other way."

Before you could respond, she closed the gap, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both gentle and demanding. It was a kiss that spoke of years of friendship, unspoken feelings, and a future you were too scared to embrace.

When she finally pulled away, you were breathless, your resolve crumbling.

"One day," Lizzie murmured, her forehead resting against yours, "you'll say yes."

"Maybe," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But until then, enjoy the chase."

Lizzie chuckled, pulling you into her arms. "Oh, I am, darling. I am."

And as you nestled into her embrace, surrounded by the familiarity of your shared home, you knew that no matter how much you teased or resisted, Lizzie would always be there, loving you in her own fierce, unwavering way.

================

Lizzie's penthouse had five bedrooms, each more lavish than the last. Yet, from the moment you moved in, Lizzie had insisted that you share her bedroom. "For your protection," she'd said, her tone brooking no argument. You had reluctantly agreed, knowing that her insistence came from a place of love and concern.

One night, after a particularly trying day, you found yourself lying in bed with Lizzie. The room was dimly lit, casting a warm glow over the plush bedding and elegant décor. Lizzie's arms were wrapped around you, her hands roaming over your back in a soothing, familiar pattern. Her lips found yours, and you melted into the kiss, feeling a mixture of love and frustration.

You loved these moments and hated them all in one breath. The intimacy, the warmth of her touch, the way she made you feel safe and cherished—it was intoxicating. But it also made you painfully aware of how much you wanted to submit, to be hers completely. And that terrified you.

Lizzie's kisses grew more passionate, her hands exploring with a hunger that mirrored your own. You responded eagerly, your fingers tangling in her hair as you deepened the kiss. Yet, in the back of your mind, a voice whispered that you couldn't allow yourself to fully give in. Not when her life was filled with danger and uncertainty.

When she finally pulled away, her eyes searched yours, as if seeking answers to unspoken questions. "What are you thinking?" she asked softly, her breath warm against your skin.

You hesitated, struggling to find the words. "I... I love you, Lizzie. You know that. But I can't—"

"Shh," she murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You don't have to explain. I understand."

And she did. Lizzie knew your fears, your doubts, and the reasons behind your resistance. She respected them, even if it meant enduring the ache of unfulfilled longing.

"I just want you to know that I'm here," Lizzie whispered, her fingers brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. "Whenever you're ready, I'll be here."

You nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. Nestling closer to her, you allowed yourself to bask in the comfort of her embrace, even if just for a little while longer.

=================

It started out as a minor disagreement, something trivial about the way Lizzie handled a situation with one of her lieutenants. But, as things often did with the two of you, it quickly escalated.

“You never listen to me, Lizzie!” you shouted, frustration boiling over. “You just do whatever you want, without considering how it affects others!”

Lizzie’s eyes narrowed, her calm demeanor cracking just a bit. “I always listen to you. But sometimes, there are things you don’t understand about my world.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” you retorted. “It’s your world, not ours. You always have to be in control.”

The argument continued to spiral until you stormed out, grabbing your keys and slamming the door behind you. You needed space, a chance to cool down and clear your head. And maybe, just maybe, a little bit of retail therapy.

Hours passed, and you found yourself at the most luxurious boutiques in the city. Every swipe of your card felt like a small act of rebellion, a way to assert some control in a situation where you often felt powerless. Designer clothes, expensive jewelry, anything and everything caught your eye.

Meanwhile, back at home, Lizzie was dealing with the aftermath of your fight. She knew she had pushed too hard, but her pride wouldn’t let her admit it. That is, until her phone rang.

“Miss Olsen,” the bank manager’s voice was cautious. “There’s been an unusual amount of spending on one of your accounts. We wanted to verify—”

“It’s fine,” Lizzie interrupted, a wry smile on her lips as she realized what you were doing. “Just my future wife throwing a tantrum.”

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a tentative, “Understood, Miss Olsen. Should we impose any limits?”

“No,” Lizzie said firmly. “Let her buy whatever she wants. She’ll come home eventually.”

And she was right. Laden with shopping bags and feeling a mix of satisfaction and guilt, you finally returned. Lizzie was waiting, her expression a blend of amusement and exasperation.

“Had fun?” she asked, eyeing the mountain of bags you set down.

“Immensely,” you replied, though your tone was softer now, the anger having dissipated.

Lizzie stepped closer, taking your hands in hers. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I do listen to you, and I do care about what you think. Sometimes I just get… carried away.”

You sighed, leaning into her touch. “I know. And I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have stormed out like that.”

Lizzie pulled you into a hug, her arms wrapping around you tightly. “It’s okay. Just promise me you won’t run off and bankrupt me every time we argue.”

You laughed, the sound muffled against her shoulder. “Deal. But only if you promise to actually listen.”

“Deal,” she echoed, pulling back to look into your eyes. “Now, let’s go through these bags and see what my future wife bought.”

As you sat together, sorting through your extravagant purchases, you took a deep breath and decided to take the plunge. "Lizzie," you started, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

"Yes?" she looked up, her eyes full of curiosity and a hint of apprehension.

"Ask me again," you said softly.

Her brows furrowed for a moment before realization dawned on her face. A slow smile spread across her lips as she took your hands in hers once more. "Will you marry me?"

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Yes, Lizzie. I'll marry you."

Lizzie pulled you into a kiss, her arms tightening around you as if she never wanted to let go. And in that moment, surrounded by shopping bags and the remnants of a heated argument, you knew you had made the right decision. No matter the ups and downs, you were ready to face them together, as partners, as lovers, and now, as fiancées.

[mariasont]

Office Sleepover 3 - A.H

a/n: yeehaw this took me way longer than i thought but here she be

i feel like im so ass at writing smut so just bear with me yall

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

part one here! part two here!

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which reader gets put on a hit-list and has to stay in the office (kind of based off when penelope got put on a hit-list by the dirty dozen)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, hungover reader, unwanted attention from some rando, awk as fuck reader, fingering, dirty talk, doing the dirty in the office, definitely illegal, definitely probably caught on cameras

wc: 4.2k

Everything hurt--your stomach churned, your head throbbed, and your eyes burned. You squeezed them shut, feeling your body tense against the stiff fabric of the pull-out couch. Fists curled tightly, you gradually let your eyelids part, casting a slow, sweeping glance around the room, trying to piece together what the hell happened.

Pain hammered around the inside of your head. You desperately needed a hefty dose of Advil--ten at least. As though your mind had materialized them, you rolled over to discover a bottle and a glass of water on the nightstand. You assumed you had JJ to thank, though the certainty of that was as fuzzy as your thoughts. Each effort to reconstruct last night's events was a stab to your already excruciating migraine.

You had all your clothes on, that was a plus considering your notorious history with wine and stripping. Stripping. Your hand slapped over your mouth, a floodgate of recollections bursting through--calling Hotch in a wine-induced haze, flashing your tits, asking him to stay.

You were in full-blown panic mode, the sudden urge to throw up clawing at your throat. The bed was empty, save for yourself, but you vividly remember Hotch laying down with you. This only left two possibilities: he left after you fell asleep or it had been a figment of your imagination. You were desperately hoping it was the latter.

But clearly, the universe had its own plan, because there he was, leaning against the door frame, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a paper bag that, by the smell of it, contained greasy food.

With a throat like sandpaper and sweaty palms, you met your boss's gaze. "Hotch," you croaked, pausing to swallow. "Um, good morning--or is it? My sleep schedule's always off after drinking. It feels bright in here, right? It's also kinda hot, is the AC working?"

You impulsively rose from the bed, a decision you instantly regretted as the room seemed to spin around you in protest.

"Sit down," he commanded, a firmness in his voice that brooked no opposition, and you promptly sat your ass back down, watching him with an expectant look.

You attempted to read his face, but it was a blank slate, making you that much more nervous. He must hate you, you figured, because you certainly hated yourself. Your boss had seen your nipples. A wave of heat washed over you, and you clenched your eyes shut, as if that could make this situation disappear.

"Here," he said, handing you the coffee and the bag, then gesturing to the Advil on the counter. "Take that, and I know you might not feel like eating, but it's necessary. The food and coffee will stabilize your blood sugar levels."

"Right, yeah, course," you nod, accepting the items with shaky hands, holding the cup with a grip that's a little too firm. "Listen, sir, I'm really sorry about last night. I promise I don't usually drink that much. I don't even know how I got that drunk, and I know I acted completely inappropriate towards you. If you need to file a complaint, I understand. Again, I'm just so sorry..."

You wanted to cry, but you held it back, knowing it would only make this whole situation worse. You deliberately avoided his eyes, focusing on anything but him while you absentmindedly toyed with the breakfast sandwich in your hands.

After a moment, he releases a soft sigh, the mattress sinking slightly as he settled beside you, his knee gently knocking yours.

"I'm aware this week's been tough on you. It's, uh, clear you weren't thinking straight, and I'm not about to make a formal issue out of a slip-up."

Your head dipped, as you tried to fend off the rising warmth in your face. "I don't think I can ever look you in the eyes again."

"That feels dramatic," he pointed out, a chuckle in his voice that made you glance his way. "Trust me, it's already forgotten."

That was a lie. He may have lacked Reid's eidetic abilities, but there was no possible, imaginative way that he would forget the image of you topless--it was imprinted in his memory. In fact, it had become the sole focus of his thoughts ever since. He silently thanked the gods that it was a Saturday, and he didn't have any pressing work issues.

"Somehow, that's not very comforting," you replied, a suppressed giggle breaking through as you met his gaze. "So, did you, um, end up staying over?"

Your cheeks glowed with a soft pink, hands unconsciously smoothing over your thighs--a nervous habit of yours he had quickly taken notice of. It emerged involuntarily when you faced tough cases, or when your computer took too long to start up, or even when the elevator made an unexpected noise.

"I did," he admitted, "You shouldn't have been alone."

Your whole body felt like it was on fire, and you were weirdly frustrated that you couldn't recall being the same bed as him, being able to feel his body against yours. You bet he was warm, and soft, and large against you.

"Thank you."

His phone went off. "Hotchner."

Your eyes followed his movements, noting the firm nods, watching as he stood, his expression hardening, jaw tightening, and hand coming to rest on his chin as he faced away from you.

The phone call was brief, and he quickly turned his attention back to you. "We've got a case."

And it was quite the case--three male victims, all in their forties. Each crime scene was close to Quantico, about twenty minutes, sparing the team any extensive travel. Though, after last night, you don't think you would have minded if they had been halfway across the country.

You were really banking on Hotch's ability to keep things professional, knowing full well that if Morgan caught wind of this, you'd be better off dead.

The team was huddled around the briefing table, absorbing Garcia's detailed rundown of the killings--they were violent to say the least--with heads bashed in and over twenty stab wounds per victim. Whoever was doing this was angry.

Hotch eventually split everyone up into tasks—Spencer and Morgan to the crime scenes, JJ and Emily interviewing the families, and Rossi was tasked with convening with the local police force. So, you know who that left at the office? You, Hotch, and Penelope. What a great group.

You avoided both of them, a pattern that had become all too familiar you had realized. Hunched over your desk, you were engrossed in sending Spencer images of your latest research on the town. True to form, he responded--Can you just fax that over to the police station?--because god forbid, he has to read it from his phone.

So, there you were, barely resisting the urge to slam your head into the fax machine. You wouldn't consider yourself technology impaired, but to say you were on friendly terms would be overstating it.

"Need help?"

"Oh, yes, please—," you began, but your voice trailed off as you noticed one of the guys from forensics hovering just a tad too close for comfort.

"They're always a bit stubborn," he noted, barely giving you space to breathe before his shoulder nudged against yours as he fiddled with the device, "just a slight...there we go."

The machine sprang into action, prompting you to step back and acknowledge his help with a nod. "Oh, thanks."

"Not a problem," he assured, stepping closer in the process, his fingers lightly brushing your thigh as he pointed out the correct button. "You see, it's all about timing," he added, his voice low and unnecessarily close, "these things can be so fussy, right?"

A subtle nod was your only response, hoping he'd take the hint that you weren't in the mood for small talk. The hangover clung stubbornly, and the whiff of his breath was a cruel taunt against the fragile peace you were maintaining over your stomach.

"So, do you find this kind of tech stuff challenging?" he asked, a little too casually. The question hung awkwardly in the air. You sought to put some distance between you, yet he matched your every move, keeping the space closed. "I mean, I'm pretty good with my hands, not just with machines honestly."

Ew.

You mustered a smile, though you were sure it was more of a grimace. The room felt smaller, the walls inching closer. "I usually manage," you responded, the strain evident in your voice.

He leaned closer, if that was possible, it was like the concept of personal space was foreign to him. "Maybe I can show you a few tricks, help you manage a little better?"

His words were light, but his proximity was anything but, almost suffocating.

Just as you were firmly about to tell him to shove it, a sharp voice beat you to it--probably for the best.

"That won't be necessary."

The forensics guy, whose name you still hadn't gotten, straightened, his smile faltering under the weight of Hotch's piercing, don't fuck with me, stare. A look usually saved for unsubs and incompetent officers, but now it singled out this man.

The same look remained on the poor guy as he directed his words to you, "why don't you join me? We need to go over some case details."

It really wasn't a question.

The man backed up instantly, mumbling something under his breath about just trying to help, but Hotch's glare followed him until he was well out of earshot.

Surprisingly, a similar sharpness was aimed at you as soon as he opened his mouth. "I'd appreciate it if you chose to flirt on your own time, not the Bureau's."

His words landed with the sting of an unexpected slap. You blinked, taken aback. "What? I wasn't--,"

But he didn't allow you time to finish. Instead, he pushed a water bottle in your hands, his eyes scrutinizing your face with such an intensity that you wished the floor would swallow you whole. "Drink. You look pale."

"Gee, thanks," you grumbled, under your breath, more to yourself than him, as he wheeled around and headed briskly for the briefing room.

Your steps lagged slightly behind him, your forehead lined with a thoughtful frown. What was that about? The way he acted--the tightness that had formed around his mouth and the harshness in his words, it was so unlike him, well, at least for it to be directed at you.

The rest of the day unfolded just as you thought it would upon waking--like shit. Hotch kept his distance, his exchanges with you brief and to the point. Every time you tried to grab his attention, hoping to clarify things (why you felt the need you weren't sure), he was already looking else, focused on literally anything but you.

It was painfully evident that he was avoiding any personal conversation with you, a realization that bit deeper than anticipated.

The office slowly emptied, the case binding you and Hotch to the briefing room, the only sounds being the faint gentle tapping of your pen and the occasional snap of your hair tie.

It was late when you finally spoke. "Hotch, this says the victim had fibers under his nails that don't match anything from the suspect's home."

Hotch's gaze snapped up to yours. "Are you saying you think the forensics team missed that?"

You met his eyes squarely, cocking your head to the side at the tone of his voice. "I'm not saying anything. I'm just pointing something out."

He bridged the space between you, his jaw set in a firm line. You could feel the warmth spreading across your cheeks as the distance dwindled.

"I'm just saying I don't want you jumping to conclusions based on underdeveloped theories."

You met his eyes with a glare, your teeth grinding together in the process. "Underdeveloped? Is that how you see my contributions now?"

The space between you had now vanished, your heart racing, finger almost poking into his chest as you spoke.

Hotch settled back against the wall, arms folded across his chest, giving you a pointed look. "I didn't say that," he replied, his voice level, markedly different from your agitated one. "We just can't afford to investigate every insignificant detail."

"Every insignificant detail?" you scoffed, "these are leads, Hotch."

His shoulders lift in an indifferent shrug that made you want to wrap your hands around his throat, and not in the good way. "Maybe. However, we need to be sure before we pursue it."

Drawing in a controlled breath, you fought to stay calm, but he was making it very hard. The sensation was all too reminiscent of college, contending with the overconfident frat boys just to voice your thoughts. That comparison may have been a tad extreme--Hotch was far from being like those insufferable boys, but he was certainly pushing your limits right now.

"I am sure. Why aren't you listening."

"I am listening," he said, but his voice was distant. "I just... I just don't want to get sidetracked, that's all."

"Sidetracked? By what, exactly?"

"I'm just not sure you're all here right now."

You felt your cheeks warming with a tinge of shame, but you pushed back, fists clenched at your sides. "I'm here, Hotch. I'm focused."

"Because last night—,"

"Last night was a mistake, okay? I got it. I already apologized for that. But I'm not irresponsible, my focus is on this case."

A lengthy pause followed, his expression unreadable. "You're certain about that?"

"Yes, I'm certain," you snapped, moving towards him again. "And for the record, JJ said you were okay with us having a few drinks."

"I was," he admitted. "But I didn't think—,"

You didn't let him finish. "What, that I'd get wasted? That I'd do something stupid? I'm sorry I'm not perfect."

"Well, yeah."

"Screw you, Hotch."

You knew that was a mistake the minute his nostrils flared, his chest now a pressing force against yours.

Then, without warning, his lips crashed into yours. A muffled oomph of surprise left you, your hands hanging motionless at first, only to quickly melt, grasping at his jacket, pulling him into you.

It wasn't a gentle kiss, nor was it kind, but it was magic, exceeding anything you could have imagined, setting every fiber of you on fire. His lips pressed against yours with an intensity that drew out a breathy sigh, arousal tingling through you, and your passion rose to meet his, equally hungry, equally desperate.

Your fantasies had never done him justice--kissing him was intoxicating, and now you could feel yourself getting lost in the sensation, realizing it was everything you never dared to hope for.

Drawing back just enough, his hands drew you closer, pressing against the dip of your back, his breath fusing with yours in a dizzying blend, making the air seem scarce.

Against the soft pressure of his lips, you murmured, "I wasn't flirting."

There's a pause as his eyes locked on yours, searching, questioning. Then, his hand settled at the side of your neck. "You better not have been."

Any witty comeback you had dissipated as his lips crashed against yours again, more urgently this time, his hands tracing every contour of your clothed body with an insatiable curiosity.

His grip tightened around your waist, effortlessly lifting you onto the briefing table's cold surface with a resounding thud, his palms then cradling your thighs. Documents and files fluttered beneath you, hopefully they weren't too important. His eyes, dark pools of brown, were meticulously scanning your face.

"You," he breathes out, his voice a low rumble laced with something you couldn't quite place, "have consumed my thoughts since the moment I discovered you on my couch." He inches closer, his breath scorching your cheek as his fingers waltzed a pattern up your thighs. "Do you understand that feeling? The intense frustration?"

You were rendered motionless, frozen in place, scared to even twitch and risk this all being a very realistic wet dream. This was Hotch, your boss, the man defined by his lack of outward emotion. To think that you--of all people--could have an effect on him was an overwhelming concept. The room seemed to tilt on its axis as he gently guided your legs apart, positioning himself between them.

"Y-Yeah, I know," you uttered unevenly, your thoughts scattering as your hands tentatively reached for his collar.

"So, you know what it's like, huh?"

Your nod was subtle, a flustered smile briefly lighting up your expressions.

"And?" he prompts, while his fingers explore the shape of your thighs, squeezing gently.

You squirm under his gaze, the intensity of it making your heart race inside your chest.

"And... it's annoying," you confess, puffing out a breath, trying sound annoyed, but the delicate blush dusting your nose gave you away, you were sure.

"Annoying?" Hotch repeats, his hand tenderly angling your face upward, his smile laced with a taunt. "Is that all?"

You rolled your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "It's distracting," your voice was softer now, desire pooling in your belly as you grasp just how compromising of a position you were in.

"Distracting," he tsked, echoing you once again as he nodded solemnly, pulling your hips into his. Your mouth parted in an 'o' of surprise, your gaze lifting to meet his. "Have I been the subject of your thoughts, then?"

Your head dipped in a nod, your fingers brushing against his firm chest, a soft blush coloring your cheeks. "Maybe a little, in a totally platonic boss-employee type of way."

"Oh yeah?"

You caught your lip between your teeth, considering your next words very carefully. "Well, maybe more than a little, and maybe more than just a boss."

"Oh, wow," his breath was a warm hover over your lips, hanging in the space between you. You ached for the tase of him again, rich with dark expresso and spiced cinnamon. It was a lovely combination. "Sounds serious."

You released a hushed giggle, a light note floating between you as your foreheads met. "It's not like I can help it."

"And why is that?"

"Because," you paused, wetting your lips in anticipation, "you're infuriatingly unforgettable, that's why."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You would."

He was kissing you again. This time a little softer, unhurried, and the whole reason for your argument faded into nothingness. Although if insubordination led to this sweet consequence, it might just become a habit.

His lips traced a path down your throat, prompting your head to tilt back, baring the expanse of your skin to his exploration. Your legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him impossibly close. The world seemed distant, the sensation dreamlike, buoyed by the soft lull of a lust-induced haze.

Reason gave way to impulse; your hands lost in the softness of his hair, your back arching to his hands grasping at your ass, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection.

His hands hesitated, hovering as he reached for your top, his eyes holding yours. "Is this okay?"

You nodded, more eagerly than necessary, but that still wasn't good enough for him.

"I need a verbal yes or no."

Desperation clung to you, a needy sigh escaping you as you squirmed into his touch, his hands halting your restless movements. "Yes, please, Hotch."

"You were so eager to call me Aaron last night. Say it again."

"Aaron, please, I need you to touch me," your voice rang out, imbued with such sweetness making his length constrict against the fabric of his slacks.

His fingers deftly navigated to the hem of your shirt, sliding it over your head with a fluid motion. Your bra was next, its clasp yielding effortlessly to his touch, your tits releasing with a gentle bounce, and he fought back a groan as his large hands enveloped them.

"Every bit as perfect as I remembered," he said, his fingers skillfully pulling and twisting at the nubs as you brought you forehead to meet his, a breathy gasp tumbling from your lips at the contact.

You arched your back into his heads as he let out a soft chuckle, loving the way your body reacting to him. Your eyes held a glazed-over look, lips parted ever so slightly, and you looked up at him expectantly in way that could surely kill him. 

His hands moved slowly down your sides before brushing the sensitive skin under your waist band. You swallowed a gasp, moving your hips into his again, rolling yourself against his stiff erection.

His palms pressed against your hips. "Slow down. Let me take my time with you, yeah?"

You were at his discretion; he could ask you to jump into oncoming traffic right now and you'd probably say yes.

A nod was all you could manage as you fought the urge to move, every muscle tensed, waiting for him to make the first move, but god was it hard. You couldn't really believe this was happening, until the solid press of his thumb against your clit brought the moment into sharp focus. 

"Aaron, god," you gasped, your hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. Your teeth found your bottom lip harshly, trying not to show him just how easily you could come apart right now.

"Is that good, honey?"

Honey. You could practically feel the arousal dripping your thighs as you nodded eagerly.

The pad of his thumb glided between your folds, gathering the slickness to continue his assault against your swollen clit. You buried your face deeper into his suit jacket, attempting to stifle the embarrassing sounds that you couldn't seem to contain. 

A whine of protest filled the space between you as his hand slipped away from your pants. His eyes bore into you as he gathered the strands at the back of your neck, guiding your gaze to yours. 

"None of that. Let me hear you gorgeous."

"Aaron, please, I need your fingers inside me, please."

You were painfully aware of how ridiculous you sounded, knew that if anyone else was in the office right now, you'd be so screwed, fired probably, but as his fingers dipped into your cunt those concerns dissolved quickly.

"Since you asked so nicely."

He was torturing you--his pace aggravatingly slow, working in and out of you as you tried to fight the overwhelming desire to slam your legs shut. It was so much, yet not enough. You ground yourself against his hands as his other hand clamped around your back, keeping you from falling back.

"That's it, baby, fuck yourself on my fingers."

His eyes were dark, pupils dilated, his chest rising and falling in a way that only seemed to spur you on, doing exactly as he ordered. His words felt foreign in your ears, before today you could never imagine him talking like this, so vulgarly. 

"Aaron, I-I need—," you paused, your eyes falling to his pants, more specifically the hardened cock inside them.

"Yeah? Is that what you want?"

"Yes, fuck, please," you gasped as his fingers hit that one spot just right. Your head lolled back as you clutched at his collar, his arm behind you keeping you in place.

"Watch your mouth," he said, and for some reason that was enough to send you right over that never ending ledge, your stomach coiling, heat spreading under your skin, every part of you ached.

"Oh—, Aaron, I-I'm—," you were a blubbering mess, rocking without mercy against his fingers, his thumb brushing against your nub in a way that made you feel like you had met your maker.

"That's it, baby, go ahead."

That was enough for you, your walls clenching around his fingers, back arching into him and you swore for a minute you could see stars. He helped you ride out your high.

You were wholeheartedly convinced; this was heaven. You had died and gone to heaven and the first one to greet you was Hotch, his hands tracing soothing patterns on your bare skin in an attempt to bring you back down to Earth. 

Just as you were about to reach for his pants, determined to feel him inside of you, his phone went off. Of fucking course. He shot you an apologetic look, the sound a wake-up call, pulling you both from the lust-fueled moment. 

He moved back with a couple steps, offering nods and muted words to whoever was calling at 12 am. You were suddenly extremely aware of your appearance--topless and on the briefing table for crying out loud. 

You attempted to stand, your legs betraying you with a wobble that had him instantly clasping your arm firmly, his attention flickering from the phone to the tremors in your stance. You gave him a small in return as if to say I'm fine.

You reached across the table, grabbing your shirt from its discarded state, not bothering with the bra as you dressed quickly. He cleared his throat, causing you to turn, just in time to see his phone disappear into his pocket.

"That was the Stafford police chief, there was another murder," he explained.

"Oh, right, okay, um..." you started, your brain racing into overdrive as you instinctively moved towards the door. "I just need to..."

Your movement was too quick, a dizzying spin that resulted in you tumbling into Hotch's solid frame. His reflexes were immediate, hands clasping onto you once again, preventing you from landing straight into him.

"Whoa, hey, are you okay?" he asked, brows knitting in a frown, "take a second."

"Yeah, um, yeah, I'm good," you managed to get out, even as heat suffused your face. "Just need to get changed, uh, can't imagine either of us want to the team to find me like this."

"Right."

He was still frowning, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss away the harsh lines of his forehead, but you were sure he wouldn't appreciate the gesture. 

You made a beeline for your office, the door's thud barely registering over pulsating rush in your ears. God, you were so screwed.

taglist: @chronicallybubbly @aremuslupinsimp @sky2nd @thisisdaisytrying @ryswritingrecord

[heavenbarnes]

Do not go gentle

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Warnings/Contains: illusions to reader suffering "some" attack earlier, nightmares, reader and hotch are goofy idiots, inappropriate boss/employee relationship, unprotected pinv sex, dirty talk, pulling out, splash the back, mentions of m!masturbation, swearing, blasphemy, hotch has a size kink if you squint.

Word Count: 4.7k

Can you believe it? I've finally posted Hotch smut? I recently picked CM back up again and turns out he's still irresistible. Enjoy this, I did.

You'd only been back a week, after having two off, and Hotch already wanted to see you in his office.

This normally wasn't a cause for concern, usually you actually liked seeing Hotch in his office. Usually because it was for praise, he'd remark good work you'd done or feed you back something good he'd heard about you from another department.

It was also in that low, calm voice and he'd always have a hint of a smile working it's way to the surface.

But this time it'd be different.

You'd been off for two weeks and everyone was worried it wasn't enough. You'd been, quite literally, through hell and back and nobody wanted to push you too hard to get back into the field.

But you'd reassured Strauss, reassured everyone, that this was the best thing for you. You'd been going stir crazy on your couch in your little apartment, watching everything the TV had on offer.

You needed to get back into things, you needed to get back to helping people.

So you made the slow ascent up to Hotch's office and quietly knocked on the door, feeling it slowly swing open against your hand. He looked up from his desk, eyes connecting with yours and his brow raising slightly.

"You wanted to see me, sir?

He waved you in with his hand, gesturing towards the chair in front of his desk. You took a seat, doing your best to relax back into things and not let him know how nervous this had made you.

“I just wanted to see how you’re doing?”

You smiled, only gently with your gaze picking out flaws in the carpet of Hotch’s office. Nodding slightly, you lifted your head to lock eyes with him.

“Good, actually,” That was honest but you could tell he was a little hesitant to accept it. “I’m glad to be back with everyone and making some difference.”

“And how are you sleeping?” Clear and level headed as ever.

You hesitated, it was only a second but there was no getting past him. You knew you had to be honest now.

“Not well, that's only when I finally get to sleep, and when I do I’m right back there again.”

Hotch’s expression was as hard to read as ever but you could see a hint of sympathy? Sadness? Concern?

“And are you seeing a therapist?”

“I am! She’s great, she says the best way through it is to keep living until I have enough good memories to replace those ones.”

You thought there may have been a hint of a smile on his face but it was gone as quick as you saw it.

“If there is anything I can do to help you, just ask- or call.”

You gave him a smile, an earnest one and you nodded as you spoke. “I will, thank you, Sir.”

That went better than you expected. He didn't want to recall you back to the office for desk work, he was just checking in. You found yourself back to feeling how you normally did when you left his office.

Not really wanting to go.

-

Your apartment was dead quiet, you couldn't even hear the usual hum of your fridge as you left the bathroom. Your home was darker than you were used to, the moonlight struggling to get through the windows.

As you stepped into the kitchen, you felt the unmistakable air of company. Something was telling you that you weren't alone in the darkness. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as your fingers reached for the light switch.

So close, you were so close when you suddenly felt a strong grasp wrap around your wrist-

Awakening with a scream, you felt your heart fight it's way out of your chest. Your neighbours would probably be leaving another not-so-passive note in your mailbox about this.

Sitting up on the couch, you found your lights still on and your TV still playing some mindless background noise. Another nightmare taking your sleep right from you when you needed it most.

Your cellphone lay on your coffee table in front of you, black screen staring back at you. Mulling it over in your head, you weighed up your options.

On one hand, he quite literally said to call if you needed him. But on the other, he probably just said it as a courtesy, something everyone says.

Either way, before you could really talk yourself out of it- you were dialing Hotch’s number and pressing your phone to your ear.

Zoning out a little at the dial tone, you were quickly snapped back by the sound of his voicemail service, a robotic voice asking you to leave him a message.

It all happened too quickly, your lips were firing off before you could stop yourself.

“Ah- oh God- uh sorry, I’m sorry this is- oh it’s actually me by the way. I’m sorry I called it’s just- I uh had a nightmare. That sounds really lame now that I’m saying this and I really shouldn’t have called- uh I realise now you didn’t pick up because you’ve got a life or you're sleeping- but I'm not and I uh- shit-sorry- Sir, this might be a record for the world’s most pathetic voicemail so maybe take this to a museum- or to a lab to have me tested because what the hell is this- anyway- shit- sorry again and enjoy your night- see you at work tomorrow morning, please- uh please don’t mention this or I will have to go into hiding. Anyways- good night- sorry.”

Hanging up after the message, you threw your phone at the couch and watched it bounce off the cushions and onto the rug. Stuffing your palms into your eyes you let out a pained groan.

“Please throw your phone into the ocean!” You begged, getting up from the couch. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

You had almost forgotten the cringiest voicemail known to man. With how focused you were on perfecting this terrible boxed mac and cheese, your mind was nearly elsewhere.

Just as you’d managed to find a bit of peace, a knock at your front door made you jump out of your skin. Doing your best to calm yourself down, you brought your bowl of macaroni with you to the front door to investigate.

One eye to the peep hole, the minute you saw the person on the other side- your heart dropped. Slowly twisting the lock, you pulled the door back to reveal one Aaron Hotchner.

A very cozy looking Aaron Hotchner.

“Sir-“

“I got your message, you had another nightmare?”

Your words got trapped up in your throat before you could get them out. “Uh yeah.”

“What about? Are you okay”

Clearing your throat, you did your best to focus your gaze on him, remind yourself that you were here- safe in your apartment and not back there.

“Same old, I’m alone in the dark and then suddenly- he’s there.”

There was that expression on Hotch’s face again, this time you were sure it was concern, genuine concern. It was unmistakable.

“I’m sorry this keeps happening to you.”

Just as you were about to brush it off, pretend like it wasn’t driving you crazy, you could see a faint smile appearing as he kept speaking.

“I couldn’t find a museum that'd accept your voicemail but I did find a 24 hour convenience store with ice cream.”

He lifted the bag in his right hand and you could faintly see the tub through the plastic. “Is that cookies? That’s my-“

“Your favourite, yeah it is- do you mind sharing?”

You felt a heat rise in your cheeks as you nodded, quickly realising you’d been having this whole conversation in the hallway.

“Oh yeah, come in- get out of my hallway would you?”

Hotch laughed, quietly, but he still laughed as he walked in. He went straight to the kitchen as you hovered by the couch.

“I can even share my gross looking boxed mac and cheese if you ask nicely.”

That got the rest of the laugh out of him, smiling over his shoulder as he made himself at home in your kitchen. Trying to give yourself something to do, you picked up the TV remote.

“Sorry, the TV’s just been on as background noise but we could watch a movie- only if you want- I don’t even know how long you-“

Thankfully, Hotch cut you off again. “I’d love to watch a movie, as long as it isn’t a cartoon, with dinosaurs or superheroes.”

As he rounded the couch and passed you a bowl of ice cream, you looked up at him with an incredulous expression on your face.

“I literally just rented ‘cartoon dinosaur superheroes’, what the hell?"

Your face broke out in a grin before you could even finish your dumb joke and it had an instant effect on Hotch.

“Yeah well, I preferred the TV series- it went into much more detail.”

Spoon in your mouth, you shot a look at your usually-very-serious boss. You weren’t used to seeing this many smiles- let alone hearing this many jokes from the man.

“Which one was your favourite? The green one?” You pushed the corny little joke a little further.

He glanced back in your direction as he lifted his own spoon to his lips. “I liked the one that put out fires.”

Immediately a grin broke out across your face as you couldn't contain your giggles. You quieted down to a hum as you nodded at his quip. “There totally would be one that put out fires.”

Leaning back into your couch, you picked up your feet to lean them on your coffee table.

“You can put your feet up by the way, I don’t mind.”

As quickly as you said it, Hotch was reaching out a long arm to wave at your legs. “I do, get your feet off the table.”

Looking at him in (slight) faux-shock, you shook your head as he did his best to fight off an impending chuckle.

“Excuse me? This is my house!”

Hotch’s smile only grew. “Hardly a house, it’s a living room with a bed in the back of it.”

Stunned expression painted across your face, a series of unintelligible noises fell past your lips as it was your turn to try not to laugh.

“Alright then, next time I have a trauma induced nightmare then I’ll be coming to your house.”

“Perfect, I’ll have the boxed macaroni cheese and dinosaurs.”

“Great, and I’ll pick apart every stylistic choice you’ve ever made in.”

Hotch finished off another spoonful of ice cream as he shrugged. “I think you’ll find I’m a very skilled interior decorator.”

You cocked your head towards him, eyes narrowed as you played on the bit. “Suuuurely not?”

“I am, and don’t call me Shirley.”

Eyes wide in excitement as he said the words, you couldn’t believe Aaron Hotchner was a certified funny-guy. Your stoic boss, your always knowing what to say, what to do, boss. You quickly reached for the TV remote off the table as the next thought struck you.

“That’s the one, I wonder if they're streaming Airplane!”

It wasn’t like you even lasted the first 20 minutes before you fell asleep. You felt so warm, so cozy, so at peace that you hadn’t even realised you were drifting off until you did.

Hotch didn’t mind either, just happy to see you finally sleeping. His right arm stayed firmly around your side as your cheek and hand laid against his chest, snoring only quietly.

He smiled from above you, tilting his neck just enough to gently rest his chin against the top of your head.

That night you dreamed, for the first time in weeks. You were in your apartment, but the lights were shining and the moon had cast a glow over the room. You could tell you weren’t alone, you felt the company, but you couldn't find it to be scared.

Somebody else was in your apartment and he remembered your favourite ice cream.

-

As you rushed through the door of the conference room, all eyes switched from the round table fell on you. Within an instant, heat was rising up your cheeks.

“Nice of you to join us.” Morgan teased as you slipped into a seat next to Spencer.

“Sorry,” You mumbled, scrambling to grab some of the files in front of you. “Slept in.”

A simple sentence quieted everyone back down as expressions softened across all of them.

“Slept?” JJ asked quietly, full attention on you. “You’re sleeping again?”

A smile cracked at the corner of your lips, nodding gently as you tried to keep your head down. “Yeah, first time in weeks last night.”

Everyone let you off the hook after that, it was all back to work and start filing the reports from the last case. As you all shuffled out to head back to your desks, you heard a voice behind you call your name.

Leaving just you and Hotch in the room, you felt that same heat creep right back up your neck. You stepped over towards him, only bringing yourself to meet his eyes once you were right in front of him.

“Sir, listen, about last night-“

“I’m sorry,” He stopped your babbling before you could even start. “I was out of line.”

Not what you were expecting. This morning had been hazy, Hotch slipping out with a sore neck from sleeping upright. You not even waking as he left.

But this was still-

“I shouldn’t have let myself get as close as I did,” He continued, his tone back to as professional as always. “It won’t happen again.”

“It won’t?”

Hotch couldn’t bare the look on your face. Eyes dropping in confusion and bottom lip daring to wobble. He had to steel himself, he had to walk out of that room before he did something that'd cost his career.

-

He'd completely closed down any chance for the two of you. You'd sort-of-kind-of resigned yourself to the fact it was never going to happen, but having it come crashing down right in front of you hurt more than you'd expected.

You didn't realise that you'd designated a space to him in the centre of your chest until you felt it break. Thinking back on it now, it will completely foolish to think your boss would ever dare to pursue anything with you.

But there was last night.

You'd woken briefly, just the once, and you'd felt his arm around your waist. You'd heard the beat of his heart just under your ear. You could've sworn you'd felt him press his lips against the top of your head.

That was all said and done now. If you'd known it was your only chance, you probably would've held onto it for just a little longer. You thought a hot shower after a long day would help to dissipate your feelings, but you still felt it weighing heavy on your mind.

Shuffling to the kitchen, you decided there was no other choice but to get on with things. What'd your therapist said? Keep moving forward until you have more good memories to replace the other ones?

Besides, you'd gotten on just fine before, without him. There was no reason for this to change anything.

Even after you knew how it felt to fall asleep beside him.

Swinging open the box freezer, you scanned the shelf for something to eat before your eyes fell on the scene of the crime. Last night's ice cream stared back at you with cruel intent.

You decided you'd make a spectacle of it, retrieving it from the freezer to stab a spoon right through the middle of it. The first mouthful stung, the rest was just...ice cream.

Dragging your feet towards the couch, you were nearly close enough to collapse into comfort when a knock at the door sent a fright through you that you'd never get used to. Cautiously, you pressed your eye back to the peep hole and screwed up your face in confusion.

"Sir?" You asked as the door swung open, finding Hotch back in that same place on your doorstep.

"Listen, I'm sorry-"

It was your turn to cut him off. "You really don't have to be. Like you said, it shouldn't have happened."

You'd been hesitant to look him in the eye as you spoke, roaming the spotted ceiling of your apartment hall instead. But as you shifted to catch his eyes, you found him- preocupied.

Hotch's eyes trailed further down, serious expression fixed to his features as his eyes moved to your legs. Only when you went to follow his gaze did you realise.

You'd answered the door fresh out the shower. Skin still a little damp, only in a t-shirt and a thin pair of panties.

You were standing in front of your boss in next to nothing.

And he looked like he wanted to eat you whole (he did).

He managed to clear his throat, to tear his eyes off your body and back to your face. Mustering up the courage, tensing his fists and relaxing his shoulders, he began speaking before he could think.

"I am sorry and I need to say it. I overstepped a boundary here and I put my own feelings for you over everything else and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable-"

"Hotch-"

"I thought I was fine with keeping this in my head and I never wanted to-"

"Hotch-"

"But I just need to tell you that this wont change anything with-"

"Sir."

Finally, your interjection managed to cut through and he stopped himself. "Hotch, you've never asked me what I actually want."

His features softened a tiny amount, his fists unfurling as he willed himself to relax the rest of himself. "What do you want?"

Taking a long stride towards him, you found yourself nearly chest to chest with the man. Your hand gently ran his tie through your fingers, twisting a little to grasp it for leverage.

"You."

Hotch sucked in a deep breath, his head tilted towards you but his eyes closed. "Please don't say that."

You looked up at him from under your lashes, finding him slowly opening his eyes to watch you move even closer to him.

"Got no reason to lie to you, sir."

You heard his breath catch in his throat as Hotch moved his hands, until they were just and only resting on your hips. You felt the heat radiating off his large palms, closing in until they spanned across your lower back.

"I really shouldn't do this." His voice was a hush, he was still trying to talk himself out.

Not like you were going to let him.

"Then let me."

Closing the space between the two you, your lips pressed against the hard line of his until he opened up for you. You lead things just long enough for him to get comfortable, falling into motion and his tongue pushing forward into your mouth.

His hands tightened, gripping onto your waist like he might lose you if he let you go. Walking you back into your apartment, he blindly kicked his leg back to shut the door. Surging forward, he had the backs of your thighs against the arm of the couch.

Pulling back to take a look at you, his eyes moved to you swollen lips. His thumb came up to brush against your lower lip, gently gripping it between his fingers.

"Pretty, pretty girl," He sighed, you could feel his thigh slotting between your legs. "Such a good girl."

You couldn't stop it, the heady little moan that fell from your mouth at his words. Mixed with the soft feeling of his suit pants pressing to your core, undoubtedly you were leaving some kind of mess on the expensive trousers.

Hotch flexed his thigh, enjoying the feeling of you grinding yourself against his leg like a desperate slut. He watched as you tipped your head back, exposing the column of your throat to him.

Ducking his head, he pressed his lips in a line down your neck and biting gently at the join of your shoulder. "Get up on the couch."

His voice was a rumble in his chest, but there was a command in there that had you moving without being told twice. You went to sit down on it, but Hotch caught you and spun you slightly till you were falling onto the cushions on your knees.

Arms slung over the back of the couch and ass pointed out, you looked back over your shoulders with hazy eyes. Hotch slipped his suit jacket off, throwing it across a chair as he started to roll up his sleeves.

It was so simple, such an easy move but it had an effect on you like nothing else. His strong arms came into view and the veins on his hands flexed as he rolled the fabric. You could feel the damp spot growing on your panties.

This was a different Hotch than the one that stayed over the other night. This was closer to the one that sat behind his desk, stoic and unshakeable. Part of you knew the desperation that was hiding behind the stern look on his face.

You two really had one shot at this. The voice in the back of your head was telling you to enjoy this, it'd never happen again.

Snapping you from your thoughts, you felt two long fingers run up the length of your cunt. Even through the thin fabric of your underwear, you could feel his rough grasp as he gently began to rub at your clit.

Your head lolled forward, a gasp sounding from your chest as you backed your hips towards his touch. As he slid your panties to the side, fingers now running right through your wetness, you could hear the sound of him drawing down his fly.

"I've tried so hard- from the moment I met you-" The words fell from his lips, his knee coming up on the couch to get closer. "I've thought about this moment every night."

Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head, feeling his firm chest press to your back as his words spurred you on. You could picture it in your mind, your boss in the shower, alone in his bed- his hand fisting at his cock as he thought of you.

Pretty you, sweet and kind you. Always the first to do what he says, to look at him with those glassy eyes and say "yes, sir." To him, this was inevitable.

It was only ever a matter of time.

Swiping up the slick from between your legs, you looked back quickly to see him running it across the head of his cock. Your jaw dropped slightly, seeing the size of him as he dragged his hand down the length of it.

"Fuck- that's big."

You didn't even mean to say it out loud. Hotch chuckled as your words, his brows raising slightly as he did.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," He cooed, lining himself up with your entrance. "We'll make it fit."

Your eyes squeezed shut and a drawn out, frankly pornographic, moan fell out. Hotch groaned deep in his chest as he sunk into you, feeling the tight grip of your soaking cunt.

Feeling the press of his lips on your shoulder blade, he made it in fully before he stilled. He was giving you a moment, letting you catch your breath despite the ever-present need to absolutely wreck you.

Reaching back, you franticly tapped at his hip. Quiet pleas of "move, please move" filling the space around you. He was kind, he gave you exactly what you needed as he began to roll his hips into yours.

One of his hands firmly held your hip, the other ran underneath your t-shirt so he could grip at your chest. He cupped one of your breasts, rolling it round in his large palm as he groaned into the crook of your neck.

"God- you feel so good, sweetheart."

You whimpered for him, a pathetic whine sounding from you as you bucked your hips back against him. The hand on your hip began to slip forward, fingers coming around to rub against your clit.

From the speed in which he was fucking into you, the frantic movements of his fingers, the clip of his breath- he was trying hard to hold on. He was doing whatever he could to keep his cool but he was finding it increasingly difficult.

The prettiest girl he'd ever laid his eyes on, the subject of all his inappropriate desires was knelt in front of him. You were somehow tighter than he'd dreamed, somehow sounded sweeter than he'd imagined.

You were calling out his name, chants of "Aaron, fuck, Aaron-" that were no doubt slinking through the thin walls of this apartment and keeping the neighbours up.

He didn't care, he'd get you to tell the whole fucking city if he could. When you felt this good, when you looked this pretty for him? He'd throw his whole career to the fucking wind if it meant he got to do this whenever he wanted.

Maybe- maybe not that far. But Hotch wasn't really in the position to be thinking logically right now. Not when you were turning back over your shoulder to capture his lips, moaning straight down his throat as he continued to sink his hips into you.

"Fuck- you're so deep, sir."

Hotch could've come right then, there was no way he could keep it together when you were saying it like that. He knew good and well that this is why this was never meant to happen.

How was he meant to go back to work and deal with you calling him that, when he's heard just how good it could sound?

He sped up his fingers, messy circles rubbing at your clit as your whole body began to tense. He felt your back arching, pushing back into his chest as you cried out.

"God- I'm gonna'- Aaron- I'm gonna' cum-" Was all you could manage before you clenched around him.

Suddenly, your vice grip released and you were falling limp against the couch with a whimper. Hotch fucked you through it, feeling the shocks wracking your body as he drew out your orgasm as long as he could.

Hotch watched over you, seeing the blissed out expression on your face as you came for him. He looked down to see the way your cunt fluttered around him, a wet mess left on the shaft of his cock.

Taking mental note, he knew that he'd never be able to forget this. His one chance to have you like this, to hold you and feel you gripped around him. The sight of you took over him, his hips stuttering as he gripped hard on your hips.

You opened your eyes just in time to see his head tipped back, strong arms and chest straining against his dress shirt. Hotch's lips parted as a quiet moan of your name ripped from his chest.

Quickly, he slipped himself out as he stroked himself over your ass. Long fingers pulled your panties down around your thighs as hot ropes of cum painted your lower back and behind. Your eyes were growing hazier but you kept them open to watch as he did it.

You were slumped over the back of the couch, high dissipating through your body as you heard him tuck himself back into his trousers. You could hear him moving away, but soon he returned with a warm cloth against your back.

Slipping your panties back into place, he turned you around gently and settled you into his side. Right back where things had started, your sleepy body falling into him.

You both knew it, that this would be the last time. This would never go anywhere else. But there was part of you that'd become content with that, getting used to the strong beat of his heart beside your ear.

Feeling a strong hand brush against your face, this time you were sure of it. His lips pressed softly against the top of your head as you began to drift off asleep.

You knew he'd been gone again when you woke up, you'd both show up to work like all of this hadn't happened. But that was okay, you felt the sleep overtaking you- a feeling that you'd missed.

You slept absolutely soundly, for the second time in weeks.

[dadrielle]

I think part of why I find all the posts talking about how Campaign 3 supposedly had no consequences deeply tedious is because 1) they don't engage with the way consequence was embedded into the character arcs and motivations, and 2) they often treat outcomes that were the result of the players working really hard to prevent a worst case scenario as evidence that everything was handed to them.

The reason most of the Hells survived the campaign is because their battle strategy prioritized protecting one another above everything else. Laudna died and they put everything they had into getting her back. They CHOSE to not accept it. It took them five episodes, a huge boss battle, and a roll-for-it res ritual to get her back, and each of those things barely worked. They were so traumatized by the experience that they were trying to give her just about every potion and protection item even til the end, when she hadn't even gone down for something like what, 60 episodes? Because they chose to save her, they lost their patron to Otohan, and they became less tied to one city. Because Otohan terrified them so much, they never faced them on their own terms, and only finally escaped her with FCG's sacrifice. It is not a removal of consequence that Laudna was able to come back; it is a consequence of how much they were willing to pursue it, and it had consequences that echoed forward and forward and forward. It impacted the way they moved throughout the story a great, great deal, and it is just one example.

We don't know all the consequences of the god situation because they are, quite frankly, too big for an end of campaign. But of course there are HUGE consequences—the order of the world and the cosmos has been changed! We saw some glimmers of what that means on a personal and political level, to be explored later.

"Consequence" unequivocally does NOT mean "punishment." You may be disappointed that a character/group of characters is not punished for what you perceive to be their crimes, but that does not mean that the narrative is without consequence. And if that is the specific kind of consequence you think is necessary for a good story, if you think that it is superior storytelling to punish characters, that is your prerogative, but I personally do not agree and think that viewing the story through that lens deeply misunderstands the ethos of Critical Role.

[m0chisenpai]

Hi! Can you do a Armand x Fem!reader x Louis? She would be an assistant of Daniel’s. They have sorta a thing for her but are trying to ease up because she’s not as open to the whole camp thing or lowkey doesn’t believe them.

off the record

˚｡⋆ louis de pointe du lac x black!fem!reader x armand

in which Daniel neglected to coach you how to deal with the behind the scenes of the creative process

author note: I had too much fun writing this, I love the idea of this trio so much

There takes a certain level of thick skin to work for Daniel Molloy. He wasn't a terrible boss. Just a difficult old man with extremely particular needs and ways he worked. But when he found you, you were an intern with well regarded credentials and grades, but according to your counselor you were headstrong and outspoken.

He accepted your application instantly and by the next year you were his official, and most longstanding, assistant. You juggled his interviews and meetings with editors, and only recently have you begun to manage his doctors appointments.

You traveled with him, it was a non-negotiable that you were to come and expenses were covered, but Dubai was the last thing you'd expected. You’d been nearly to all the states, but for Daniel’s health anything out the country was once in a while and planned carefully.

The first night of the interview you aren’t present. Daniel can tell when he stops by your room, how your eyes droop. Your feet shuffle to greet him at the door and when you speak your words are mumbled.

He lets you sleep, but he won't say its out of care, that he's filled with guilt for dragging you into a penthouse of supernatural apex killers. "Get to sleep unless you wanna read through my mess of a notes kid." He raises a brow that you hum and nod at closing the door so you can return to the warm sheets of the bed. After that you are a fly on the wall just as he always instructed you to be.

Beside him, eyes down, fingers moving and taking notes when he mutters something to you.

Louis asks who you are on the third night, "I never took you for a man who needs help Daniel." You won't admit, but your heart picks up, but you keep yor eyes on the computer screen and let Daniel respond for you.

"Not an intern, she's one of the few ones who didn't run crying after a week working for me."

Your lips turn up at this, one of the few moments he would ever compliment you.

"She truly is like you." His eyes must be on you again, but a shiver washes dwn your spine. Like someones nail ghosts the skin on your back, trailing down your spine. And another hand, caresses the back of your neck.

"Stay out out my mind," you mumble.

"My apologies, just wanted to know about our surprise second guest." Now you dare to look up at him. Ghosts, goblins, vampires werewolves were for shows pandering toward a female audience that wanted to drool over men too beautiful and perfect to ever enter their mundane lives.

You scoff and return your focus to the notes in front of you. "Save the immortal hack for Daniel, Mr.Du Lac."

Your skin crawls at the way he tilts his head ever so slightly, and in that cocky drawl offers another apology.

"Mr Du Lac and his companion would like to dine with you."

You assume it's in regards to the interviews. You bring your computer and personal notepad along with Daniel's. But what you are met with are two wine glasses side by side paired with the men on the couch, one sits in front of them.

Their gazes are unblinking as you enter, setting your things and carefully crossing one leg over the other.

"I'm sorry we are meeting so late, or would it be early Mr.Du Lac."

"Call me Louis, the pleasure is mine. My companion Armand wanted to join our meeting this evening."

Armand creeps you out the moment your eyes lock, how his golden eyes stare you, analyzing you. He isn't as old as Louis. he actually seems to be the age of some of the TA's from school. Though you'd prefer it if it were just Louis and you. You can manage being alone with the latter.

"Daniel tells us you think none of this to be real." Ah, so it does speak.

"It's true. I find the supernatural charade boring," you pick up the yellow pad and pen. "But I'm not paid to to dig any deeper than he asks me to. I polish and prime what he asks, and he does all the writing."

"You weren't able to join the first interview because too were tired. I could hear your heart the entire time, you didn't sleep. Kept tossing and turning the entire night." Now you look at Louis, here he goes again.

"An easy observation, can we please focus on-"

"Thoughts were racing an awful lot too," Louis looks up in fake thought "is any of this worth it, why waste my time on a rich hack. I could be back home working on my portfolio."

Once again you cut him off. Pinching the bridge of your nose, "another keen observation please try and do better, now in session 2-"

"Your father took your mother here." Armand speaks up now and your heart stops, "those earrings she gifted you were from here. In fact in your dreams the previous evening you dreamt of taking them both here. You started planning it with the money that will come out of this interview."

Every word accelerates your heart, it makes Louis smile "Careful cher, your heart might beat out your chest."

Your hands shake as they swipe the glass of wine in front of you, you take two large gulps. Clutching it for comofrt.

"My apologies, I did not wish to cause any distress."

"I'm sorry, I need a moment." You leave your things behind and return to your room that night. You feel childish locking the door behind you and running to the bathroom where you stop for a moment closing that door behind you as well locking it and taking the hottest of showers. The next morning a letter from the two sits by breakfast along with your things in a neat pile.

Eerily it is exactly what you were thinking of yesterday morning, it is french toast made from the fluffiest brioche. With a side of bacon, turkey, you hated pork. Armand asks to speak to you while Daniel rests along with Louis.

Once you eat and shower quickly putting on a sweater to combat the chill you find him in the study.

He sits, almost like he knew you would come.

"It was not our intent to alarm you" his eyes follow you as you sit. "You did not rest last night because of us. Please use tonight to rest."

You refuse to look at him, favoring the thread on your sweaters sleeve.

"You are more than qualified to work for any other reporter on your own, yet you work for...him. Why?"

"He was the only one to look pass the observations of my advisor, I wasn't going to be just an errand girl. Not too many publishers cared for my opinions. I was too blunt and rough along the edges to be a writer."

"You didn't believe Mr.Molloy was interviewing a vampire yet you still followed him here."

"It's not my book. I'm a fly on the wall remember?"

"But if it were your story?"

You pause in thought, and now you look away into those unsettling eyes after a moment. "I would have interviewed Claudia had she survived. I feel her story needs to be heard."

You answer more of his prodding questions till you return to your room for lunch. A wrap of some sort with nuts and fruits on the side. And a pile of little girls diaries with white gloves and a note to handle with caution.

Armand won't voice his affinity for you as Louis does. You won't admit the way his eyes settle on you as you enter the room makes you preen, makes your heart fuzzy and your head feel like it wants to float away.

The interview goes on tonight with Armand joining. They once more talk about Lestat. You try and fight your eyes from rolling as you read through an email.

'If I hear his name one more time I might gouge my ears out.'

'Don't torture yourself like that cher.' Your eyes look to him, but he remains focused on Daniel, listening to Armand. How does one multitask like that? Two conversations at once must be hard.

'Years of practice.'

'And what's with all this chere nonsense?'

'Would you prefer your name instead?'

'No' your cheeks warm in embarassment "I...enjoy it."

"Get me some pictures of this theatre." Daniel's instructions get your attention, "and whatever memorabilia you can find." You nod typing that onto your list of many other things to do.

'I will help you with that tonight, after the session I've arranged for dinner tonight' Armand now stares at you and that damned feeling begins to creep back in 'no pork as per your request.' You hate how quick you are to forgive him. But he slowly is earning your trust again.

Daniel coughs obnoxiously getting the elder vampires attention. "You were saying?" This time when you look down, a smile only the pair can detect makes its way upon your lips.

They stare at you less, leave your mind alone as per your request. And indulge in your blunt questions. Each night you find yourself slowly feeling less discomfort. You almost wish you could stay, you think to yourself one night now dining with the two looking at pictures of Louis in his younger years.

He sits beside you, smiling as he watches your hands carefully hold the photos from their time in France.

"No fair, Paris is top of my bucket list."

"I'd be more than happy to take you," Louis gives you that smirk which you roll your eyes in playfulness at.

"Sure you will."

"We could take you anywhere you would like" Armand states.

"Ibizia?"

"Gladly."

"Bali."

"Sure."

Even though you still doubt their supernatural nature. You indulge them. Unknown that just as much as you have them wrapped around your finger, they have you caught in a web.

And they'll patiently wait for you to realize that there are some beings whose hearts you should never toy with. For the results afterwards, are eternal.

[bunny-jpeg]

hello, could i get nanaimo bars with a martini and glass of water on the side with Max Verstappen? also love your little bakery it’s such a cute idea and love your work too!

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? check out the menu! there are tons of prompts for you to choose from to customize your order! and thank you for this lovely person for submitting an order!! i have still been under the weather, but i'm glad that i can finally get back into the groove of writing!

nanaimo bars ("who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it.") + martini (mafia au) + glass of water (aftercare) served by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, aftercare, librarian!reader, lingerie, gentle sex, size difference/kink, missionary, max is in love, mafia boss!max

you remembered the first time you felt max's gaze on you. most would've froze at the feeling, like getting ice in the back. but, instead you turned around from the shelf you were in front of and asked, "do you need help looking for something?"

it had been the first time in his adult life that max actually felt a little intimidated. he could easily dispose of you, you had recently moved to the netherlands and had no real social circle. but, you leveled your gaze at him. it was so kind, that it left him a little scared. people were rarely kind to a man like max.

if he had taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, you would've seen the kind of man he was. instead he cleared his throat against his fist and said, "i was wondering if there was a pay phone, my car has broken down and i was always told that libraries were good at helping people." he smiled at you.

you looked at him briefly and said, "alright then sir, we don't have any pay phones. but we have a phone at the front desk you can use. just let me finish up here and i'll be happy to help you."

he then followed you akwardly as you took the elevator with the empty book cart in tow. he even offered to push it for you as you led him to the front desk. you didn't even notice the small whispers and lingering gazes on the both of you, instead you got the phone and held it out to him to dial.

max knew from that moment on that you were going to be a part of his life. in any capacity he could have you, at an arms length or bone crushingly close. and over time, the more you saw of him. you thought the closer the better.

now even after three years together, the lion of holland was still in your space. when he could, he'd visit you at the library branch you worked at. he'd linger around you until it was time for your break. then you two would have lunch together in the small room in the back, amongst the stacks of returned books.

by year three, you knew who max was. he didn't try to hide it from you, he was very honest about it all. what he had done, but you in return simply asked, "if we ever broke up, would you kill me for leaving?"

and max shook his head quickly and said, "no. i could never, even if you were the one to stab me in the back. i could never harm you." and you accepted him. as long as you could still work at the library, you'd love him with all your heart.

even though your job was less than dangerous, but max worried about you being so available to the public. you knew that max kept tabs on you from time to time at work, you had become familiar with the men of max's circle. and sometimes they'd sit at the library. you simply just continued your work.

but on fridays you got to go home early, so you quickly grabbed your belongings and headed into the car. you threw yourself in the passenger side and pulled him in for a soft kiss. he took you by the face and made a soft noise into the kiss.

"someone missed me." he remarked with a chuckle as he placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a good squeeze.

"i was looking forward for today all day. it came in yesterday, and it felt like my shift went even slower than usual!" you sighed dramatically before you giggled at the feeling of your lover's lips on your neck.

"i know, i know. this gift you bought and didn't tell me what it was. you know i don't like secrets. or surprises." he gripped at your thigh for a moment.

you held his strong jaw in your hands, and beamed at him, "it's not easy to keep secrets from you, max. i usually don't keep them, but i wanted this to be special for you. since you're leaving for england in a few days."

"i know, my treasure." he sighed, "but i promise to bring you back something. as a thank you for waiting for me to come home." he leaned in once more to kiss you softly on the lips.

dinner left you feeling anxious, once you were finished you left your boyfriend in the living room while you scurried off to the bedroom to get changed. you felt your pulse quicken as you pulled out the large black box from under the bed.

you got dressed quickly. it wasn't anything too special, it was a white mesh bra and panties, with embroidered details on it. what made it stand out to was not that the embroidery was of flowers or something sweet, but rather lions. something strong and powerful, and your lover was known as the lion of the netherlands, so it was only fitting.

the stockings you wore were a similar colour and before you knew it, you had opened the door to your bedroom and called out, "max, you can come in now!" before you shut the door and almost tripped over yourself getting to the bed. you sat down and tried to pull off a sexy pose, but ended up looking silly.

so you sat there on the edge with your feet dangling just above the floor, you kept your shoulders back to highlight your breasts which were barely covered by the embroidered designs. it was either this or a collar with max's name on it.

the door opened and max stilled in the doorway at the sight of you. his heart leapt as he admired your beauty. the air got caught in his throat and he coughed a little bit. he then said, "you're beautiful."

and you got flustered at his simple words. usually you felt a little insecure, the shape of your face, the size of your eyebrows, the softness of your stomach. you were a librarian, not a model. but max looked at you like you belonged on the cover of vogue.

he approached closer, he started to undo his button up. his chest was so exposed, lined with tattoos that were symbols of his past. he swallowed as he dropped the expensive shirt onto the floor. he worked his belt off and soon he was in nothing but briefs as he got into bed with you. those strong arms wrapped around you with his nose in your hair.

"this was your little surprise, schat." he said in a low tone, his large hands roamed your body, "this was what you had bought for me. thank you, thank you, thank you." he kissed at the side of your neck and you moaned a little bit. you felt the heat in your gut.

"i wanted to make it special for you." you said as you looked into his blue eyes. you beamed at him with your hand on his bare chest, "see they have little lions on them!"

he chuckled and leaned in for a sweet kiss, "it's perfect, my love." he could feel the thump of his cold heart as he smothered you in another kiss. his fingers found the tiny waistband of the underwear and pulled them down.

"i love you, max. all of you, every last scar and tattoo, every last inch of you. i'm lucky to love you." you giggled when he grazed a calloused thumb across your clit. you moaned a little bit and leaned into his touch.

your lips touched once more and his hands found the clasp of the bra. he groaned against the kiss and his erection throbbed against his briefs. he wanted you, this little surprise was beautiful.

the smartest woman he knew also happened to be the more beautiful. he could recall many times you'd bring him a cheesy romance novel and read it to him while he basked in your warmth.

"i love you." he said as he got you onto your back fully. his hands lightly palmed your breasts before he got up on his knees and between your legs.

he eyed your curves, bare in front of him. he palmed himself through his briefs before he got them off with a little help from you. both pairs of hands on his torso and soon he was nude. back between your legs, his hands roamed his thighs for a moment as he got your legs around his waist.

"you're beautiful." he said, "so beautiful." he leaned over you and kissed you on the lips as he slipped his cock into you. every time he had sex with you, or rather made love to you, it felt like a dream.

you blushed a little and wanted to cover your face, you squirmed a little bit at the sweet words that came from your lover's mouth.

"who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it." he coaxed out of you as he thrusted against you.

you said meekly, "i'm your pretty girl."

he chuckled and planted both hands on either side of you for a good angle to thrust his hips against you. he felt the thrill of pleasure in his head as he moved against you. oh, you looked divine. he said softly as he moved his hips against you, "je bent zo mooi, ik wil alleen jou."

you blushed a little bit, "really, no one else."

he shook his head before he leaned in for another kiss, "no one. no one else ever. since the moment i saw you at the library, i knew that i had to be with you."

the praise left a curl in your gut as the two of you moved together. the kisses were deep and you felt the warmth of your lover around you. you panted between the kisses, your heart leapt at the feeling of him so close to you.

"i could never hurt you." he said, "i'd rather skin myself alive then you be without. you are my world, the thing that keeps me human. that i still have a heart."

you replied softly, "max, you've always been human." you pulled him in for a soft kiss as you wrapped your legs around him more. you two moved against one another, you giggled between moans.

"you are my beating heart, my treasure.' he said softly as he continued to move against him. the pleasure was pin pricks across his skin as he thrusted up into you.

you moaned against him, feeling the tug in your chest from his kind words. you knew that max was a dedicated man, when he set his sights on something he'd see it through to the end. that didn't stop with just work, he wanted to make sure that he gave you the perfect life.

and you didn't ask for much, you enjoyed your job and all you needed was his love and support through anything you wished to do. as you kiss once more, you felt his warmth against you.

the two of you moved against one another, you then kissed passionately. his kisses lingered on your skin, he gripped onto the bed under your back and he groaned a little at the sensation through his body.

"please."

"mine."

"forever, my dear. i'll keep you in my heart forever."

his words were honey in your blood, you felt the thrill of him in your body as you clutched onto him.

"i love you."

"i love you too."

you clutched onto your lover's shoulders. your strong, handsome lover. one of the scariest men in the country, if not the continent. he could kill anyone if he so desired, but with you, he was so loving and sweet.

he was your man, and despite all the fear he could instill. he loved you, and that love was felt in every thing he did for you. you kissed him deeply once more as you climaxed. you moaned into the kiss and he continued to thrust up into you. a few more steady thrusts of his hips and he finished inside of you, in the process pulling you in for a deeper kiss.

he slowed his pace and said, "my beautiful girl. please, please let me love you forever."

you pressed a kiss on the small scar on his cheek, an act of sweetness as you replied, "of course, always. you and i are together till you get tired of me." you giggled.

he pulled out and laid down next to you. he draped a heavily tattooed arm across your middle and gazed at you with love in his eyes. his breathing started to even out. he wiped his forehead free of sweat with his other hand before he snuggled further into your side.

he peppered your face with kisses, asking you quietly if you were alright. if you needed anything. he was the king of after care, even when the sex was as gentle as it could be.

he worried for you, as you worried for him.

you looked at him and smiled. there was a sparkle in those blue eyes. he then closed them and stayed close to you. he sighed contently.

"thank you for the gift. i almost tore them off of you, but i want to see them on you again. if i'm the big scary lion, then you're my lioness." he linked his fingers with you then kissed the top of your hand, "now and forever more." <3

[hannie-dul-set]

WHAT’S WRONG WITH CEO PARK?

p — PARK SUNGHOON x gn! reader. g — ceo! sunghoon and secretary! reader, humor, romance. w — swearing, sunghoon being a weirdo, a misplaced marriage proposal. 1.3k words.

requested by — anon: menace to everyone but you x the opposite of that.

note — i hate the cold angsty male ceo trope. so instead i turned ceo hoon into a weirdo that's a little bit too in love and doesn’t understand the concept of workplace boundaries which stresses you the fuck out!!

when you got promoted from being assistant secretary thanks to your ceo’s former secretary resigning, your co-workers did not throw you a celebration.

“you called for me, mr. park?”

instead, they threw you an advanced farewell party. it was nice working with you, said the cake dusted with stray confetti on the day of your promotion. they’re celebrating your inevitable resignation. they’re sure you’re going to follow suit after you predecessor within three months max because according to them—

“yes.”

your boss, park sunghoon, is the nastiest fucker in the planet.

“take a seat.”

you gulp, making cautious steps into your ceo’s office. he’s signing a stack of documents while you take your sweet time delaying having to sit in front of his paper-stacked desk, setting them aside the moment you sit down, sharp eyes immediately zeroing into your soul, and you start sweating.

there’s a bet on the line on when you’d eventually quit. today marks your fourth month here, and you’re pretty sure heeseung is going to win because you are in fact this close to sliding your pre-written resignation letter over his desk, adding onto his pile.

not because he’s terrible, like they all say. not because he’s temperamental.

“sunoo told me you were sick,” sunghoon starts. “why did you come to work today?”

but because you fear your boss might be a little bit in love with you.

“is...is that the only reason you asked for me?” you hesitantly say, picking on your cuticles and trying to avoid eye contact because the concern drowning your boss’s expression is just enough to drown you as well.

“you don’t look well,” he avoids your question. of course you don’t look well. you’re very, very uncomfortable right now and the main cause of that discomfort is him. “you should go home. i’ll tell jay to drive you.”

you’re pretty sure jay isn’t going to be happy with that. 

“mr. park—”

“i thought i asked you to call me sunghoon.”

your mouth is left hanging open. you’re flabbergasted. you take a second to recollect your thoughts. “...mr. park. sir,” you emphasize. you should at least be the one reminding him of your hierarchical roles at the moment. sunghoon looks upset that you’re not abiding by his request, but says nothing in protest so you continue. “i ran out of sick leaves. and there’s still so much work to do, i can’t just go home.”

“you ran out? well i’ll just give you more.” sir, that’s not how it works. “and jungwon can take care of your work. you should go home and rest.”

jungwon wouldn’t be too happy with that either. you feel your stress levels rising, headache incoming, because he’s just not listening to you. this crazy bastard, you think to yourself.

but maybe you were thinking a little too loudly.

“can you say that again?”

you slap a hand over your mouth with a gasp.

“say it again.”

you’re fucked. you just called your boss a bastard right to his face. “i’m—i’m so sorry, mr. park, i didn’t mean to—” but maybe that’s a good thing because that means you wouldn’t need to debate about resigning if he’s gonna fire you. “i apologize. i’ll accept any punishment you’ll give me.”

“no, say it again,” he hums, sounding a little too happy after being called crazy and a bastard, and you get a bad feeling. a really bad feeling. “i felt like we just got closer because of that. swear at me again.”

there’s a smile playing on your boss’s face. 

“i— i don’t think that’s appropriate, sir.”

jesus christ, he’s a bit more in love with you than you thought.

“why not?” when sunghoon gets up from behind his seat, circling out from behind his desk to lean back against it right in front of you instead, you start fearing for your life. he looks at you, arms crossed in disappointment, and he looks a little too good with rolled up sleeves and slim-fit slacks. 

crap, were you just checking out your boss?

his crazy is rubbing off on you.

“you have no trouble with swearing at and laughing around with the others,” he says. “why can’t you do the same with me?”

he is not normal, you think. thankfully not out loud this time. “sir, you’re my boss. i’m just your secretary. there’s a big gap there. i can’t just treat you the same way as i do with my co-workers.”

your boss takes in your words. he remains quiet with a stoic face for a few moments, and with each passing second of silence, you feel half a year of your life being shaved off. “ah,” he finally makes a sound after a good minute and a half. “should i give you a promotion, then?”

oh my fucking god, he’s nuts.

“boss, there’s an urgent thing you need to—”

“did i permit you to enter my office?”

your eyes widen, slapped in the face by a whiplash when your fellow secretary jake suddenly pops into the office, only to be cut off by the sharp glare and icy tone of your boss. jake’s hand doesn’t leave the doorknob when he nearly stumbles in shock with a stack of papers pressed to his chest. you see the look on his face. it’s the face of someone who’s about to get royally fucked over.

“n—no, sir. but these documents are—”

“then why are you in my office?” holy shit. so this is what they meant when they said ceo park is a bitchy demon from hell. jake looks like he’s about to piss himself. you’ve never been on the brunt of his temper— likely because he’s biased and has feelings for you, which has always felt burdensome. but now you’re a little thankful because you’d probably cry if he snapped at you like that.

“i’m sorry, i’ll leave now. i apologize.”

with that, jake makes his hasty retreat, and you’re once more left alone with your crazy boss. 

“where were we?” he says. “oh, right. your promotion.”

you’re starting to feel dizzy. 

“i’ve never liked how seojoo handled things. you can take his spot as the sales department head.” you have to stop him. you have to stop him before he actually fires a competent employee and gives you their spot as a courtship gift. “wait. i think you’d prefer working in HR actually. it’s a shame ms. kim is going to lose her position, but i can just—”

“mr. park—”

“sunghoon,” he cuts you off. “call me sunghoon.”

you look at him, exasperated. “sir,” you say. “i don’t think this is right.”

sunghoon raises a brow. “you don’t like HR? which department would you prefer then?”

you can’t. you can’t do this anymore. you make the mistake of letting your eyes wander out of stress, because they inadvertently land on the shiny gold glint of his nameplate, which is a terribly bad move following after his question because sunghoon notices, and sunghoon gets the very, very wrong idea.

oh, no. oh, no no no no no—

“i see.”

he doesn’t! he doesn’t see! you aren’t coveting his seat! you just want to go back to work and stop dealing with your insane and far too in love with you boss!

“i’m afraid i can’t give away my position as ceo,” he tells you. you swallow, shutting your eyes because you don’t want to acknowledge the mess you’ve just accidentally made, but your lack of vision definitely doesn’t interfere with your sense of hearing.

what you hear next sounds clearer than you’d like it to be.

“how about the position of being the ceo’s fiancé instead?”

that’s it.

“i will be getting back to work now, mr. park.”

there is something very wrong with your boss. it’s not in your job description to fix him.

WHAT’S WRONG WITH CEO PARK? © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[torchstelechos]

Do yall think about the ending of ISAT in any other characters POV? Cause I think about it so much, that must be buck fucking wild. Like, you get to Dormont after MONTHS of traveling with these people, you're feeling strong, you feel like you have a chance, so yall go separate directions to get everything done before the big day tomorrow and your buddy Siffrin goes to take a nap. You're like, ah! Classic Siffrin, so silly and nonchalant about everything, they never once thought we would lose. What a swell fella :). Then not even a full half a day later, more like a few hours later, he appears out of no where with a fucked up face and starts hitting you exactly where it hurts emotionally. No reason! You didn't do a fucking thing! They just fucking went for it! And now you're pissed cause that was a close friend of yours that you considered family, you're sad, you're mad, you dont understand what happened. You meet up with everyone at the clocktower early because apparently he did that to everyone! So good! Good! It's not just a you thing! You all talk it out and you all agree that maybe you should leave them behind tomorrow if they keep acting like this. Except. Except. They never came to the clocktower, they never came to talk to you about what happened and thats. Not acceptable. You need to understand what happened because after sleeping on it, why did he do that? They wouldn't ever do that to all of you, so something must have happened!

And then a Star appears.

And you learn exactly what has been happening behind the scenes but it doesnt make sense. But you know that your buddy just went to solo the house and you know they arent strong enough to do so, you know exactly what their level and strength and weaknesses are and the King is rock type! He's going to kill Siffrin if you dont go save them! So you start running through the house to go save them while the Star guides you, but the doors are all unlocked. There are ghosts everywhere. The hallways dont make sense. Something is broken, failing, and you are running out of time. so you climb up and up and up until finally you get to the final floor and then to the King's room expecting Siffrin to be a splat on the floor but. He's still alive, theres a chance! So you go and protect them from the King but uh, huh. The King is nearly dead? Siffrin almost solo'ed the King? A scissors type versus a rock type nearly won? And it was only a nearly and not a he won because Siffrin was frozen in time? What???? So you freeze the King, you save Siffrin, but they're injured and sick and have a fever so you try to take them to the head housemaiden to get healed but uh. Shes speaking nonsense??? Utter bullshit. Skipping, repeating, saying things out of order, and then she says you all can go home and everything falls apart around you.

Cause Siffrin? Yeah, your buddy who was being a tad bit of an asshole? And they just solo'ed the bad guy without you? Yeah, he's the last boss you need to beat actually. And they're huge! So big! You get ready for them to fight you, except he. Attacks himself. In front of all of you while crying. He's sad. They're hurting themself. You can not do anything but you start to connect the dots and you figure everything out. Then everything becomes normal again and they say what they wished for and hey! You wanted that too! So you hug them as he cries himself out and all of you are tired. That was a lot. They're craft tired and sick but they're okay. So you're happy and relax. They want to go back to Dormont, so you all go. Then THIS LITTLE ASSHOLE WALTZES OFF ONLY TO COME BACK INJURED TO HELL AND BACK???? He said he was going to go say thanks to that Star person, who you still aren't sure is a person but whatever, and then he comes back exhausted and clearly just used craft after being told not to?

And YOU STILL DONT KNOW HOW SIFFRIN BEAT THAT FUCKER AFTER SOLOING THE HOUSE, OR THE DEAL WITH THAT WEIRD SHADE IN THE SKY IN THE SHAPE OF SOME FUCKING WEIRD LEGUME. WHAT. HOW???? WHY??????????

Anyway I think about this a lot, it must have been a long and confusing two days from their POV

[nandorscloak]

The more I think about it, the more I think Nandor only ever wanted to be human the same way he wanted The Guide the same way he wanted an army the same way he wanted Gail the same way he wanted to get married the same way he wanted super slumber. He keeps looking for something, some Big Change, and if he could only find that big change and conquer it, it would give him meaning and a sense of purpose. It would make him happy

Which is why I think it’s so telling that the one time a big change did happen to him, it was Guillermo becoming a vampire. And once he saw that it wasn’t making Guillermo happy, he took it upon himself to fix it

Because while Nandor keeps insisting he wants something different, he wants a change — to be human, to get married, to sleep forever — but what he actually wants is connection, and Guillermo is his primary source of that.

And by the end of season six it feels like Nandor has finally realized that to some level. Even his quest for the Guide doesn’t feel as demanding of instant gratification as his past pursuits do, because some part of him has settled. Some part of him is happy now, to the point where he’s now shifted to focusing also on the things that make Guillermo happy (albeit in a very self-centered, Nandor way that involves threatening Guillermo’s boss, proposed dynamic duo shenanigans involving capes that Guillermo mentioned one time, and building a secret clubhouse for the two of them).

I don’t have anything insightful to add to that. I just think it’s sweet. We’ve gone from Nandor being too ashamed/uncomfortable to admit that Guillermo is his friend (s1e4) to him openly saying it and admitting he wants Guillermo to be included in their family, regardless of the fact that he’s not even a vampire and will possibly never again choose to become a vampire.

One of the things that was arguably holding Nandor back from allowing himself to admit he cares, and the one thing that Guillermo believed would bring him acceptance into the family. And in the end Nandor still allows himself to admit he cares, and Guillermo is still accepted into the family.

Neither of them got what they said they wanted, but in the end they both got what they needed

It’s just sweet, that’s all

[yanderestarangel]

Okay, so I was thinking about yandere Peter B and Miguel O’Hara with FTM reader. Both men obsessed and possessive with them ever since they joined the society.

And they both share them. Kinks could be breeding, size difference, degradation, praising kink? Miguel could be a hard dom and Peter a soft dom. You could add more if ya like.

Your writing is absolutely amazing!

🕸️🕷️ 》 OUR LITTLE SPIDER || PETER B. PARKER AND MIGUEL O'HARA X FTM READER ||

A/N: I made it in headcanon format because I was too lazy to make a one shot, but I hope you like it.

THIS WAS A LITTLE TOO LONG SORRY--- ᜊ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᜊ.

TW: age gap, smut, yandere content, dark romance, daddykink, praise!kink, size!kink, possession, manipulation, ftm reader, betrayal, breed!kink, v!sex, anal!sex, overstimulation, kidnapping, blackmail, murder, aphrodisiac use, dub con, threesome, creampie.

Being in the spidersociety was a big responsibility role for you, but you accepted it anyway, after all you had the sense of hero that each spider variant had. You didn't expect so much attention or flattery for you but that's what you received from two specific people ─ Miguel O'Hara, your boss and Peter B. Parker, the most peaceful and sweet spider man you met in Spider society. You swore you saw hearts form in the two older men's orbs simultaneously.

You quickly saw things escalate to a strange level. Miguel was very protective of you, even putting you on "easier" missions like staying at the spider society headquarters and giving him boring reports.

"You're safe here. Being a spider-man isn't just about battling villains, it's about learning responsibility. You're still a little spider, carinõ." the Mexican would speak as he gave you more papers to fill out. While on the other hand, Peter agreed with everything the leader said, complementing even more.

"Miguel is right, baby boy. You still have a lot to learn." The older man gestured excitedly and you accepted, defeated and sighing.

O'Hara watched everything with a chill passing through him, he tried not to let his thoughts speak loudly but he knew that Peter was also interested in you, just like the Mexican was.

"You shouldn't be so close to him, Peter. Your wife will be jealous." O'Hara hissed the words like venom coming out of his fangs, while the other spider-man just smiled relaxedly and looked at the younger man.

"You want to compete for him? Is that it Miguelito? You liked him too, didn't you? We can share." Peter spoke as he saw you oblivious to the dark conversation you were both having.

The proposal for a share was denied in the first instance, but every day it seemed more tempting for the spider leader, for several reasons. The main one was that you were getting closer to other spider variants and Peter, being more social, was keeping up with your pace ── at the same time that you realized that some spider variants no longer wanted to talk to you, if that variant presented romantic interest in you, they disappeared and came back with deep bruises, diverting topics with you and leading you to turn to Peter.

Little did you know that the nice family man was the cause of that. He was sick for you, to the point of abandoning his purposes and character ── you and his daughter were the only things that mattered to him at that moment, he told himself that he still loved Mary Jane... But he also loved you.

Peter was getting rid of another spider variant using threats and pure blackmail to do so, but the poor victim that time had no chance after Miguel appeared and took out his fury on them. The tall man sloppily wiped the blood off his hands as he turned to Peter.

"Okay... I accept your proposal, let's share the ninõ." O'Hara spoke in a calm, cold and insane tone, while he saw Parker smile and nod his head ── after this previous peace agreement between them, it was his life's turn to become a sweet hell.

You had no one else inside or outside the spider society, Peter and Miguel were the only ones who spoke to you. (Peter's threat + Miguel's tyrannical power with the other spider variants in secret was the reason for his involuntary isolation.)

In addition to the fact that the Mexican used his entire database to find out about your family, friends and possible love interests outside the society he had control over ── some were bought with money, others were threatened and others... They were found in alleys and became news on TV channels.

Everything was falling apart in your life, even your college grades and your mental state and all you had left was the comfort of the two older men... Exactly as you both planned.

You ran into their arms while crying and venting ── an Oscar award was supposed to be presented to the duo, both of them pretended shock and indignation while you told them every detail. So when you were weakened enough, they acted, bringing you into their possession, protecting you from the cruel world that was made worse in their minds.

Compliments, gifts, words of positive affirmations and everything sweet and warm in the world they gave you. Miguel was more desperate for touch, placing you on his lap while he worked on the panels of the multiverse or giving you small, intimate but not vulgar kisses, something that asserted a silent and slow dominance ── away from curious eyes, after all he was still the leader of that society.

Peter on the other hand would give you more affection in public, you and him would even go for a walk together with mayday as a family, away from Mary Jane's eyes. He would also lie to you saying that he and his wife were separated and even show the old divorce paper to prove something to you... You were trapped in a spider web of lies and dirty manipulations.

And when you realized, you were in a relationship with both men ── they asked you if it was okay for you to deal with both of them at the same time, which you denied, too drunk with pleasure to think about anything more than both filling you to the brim (an effect that was also the fault of the aphrodisiac Miguel had put in your drink that day.)

Peter's hands took off your spider uniform while O'Hara's thick hands went towards your wetness, playing roughly with your clit "mi hermoso" the spider leader growled in your ear as one of his thick fingers entered inside you, making you moan ─ at the same time that Peter sucked your nipples and gently squeezed your breasts, his experienced hands were working magic on your body. Raw kisses were left by the older man on your abdomen, as Parker knelt and licked your clit, helping O'Hara prepare you even more for what was to come.

"You're already dripping for us, aren't you? Such a good little slut." The tanned man teased as he stuck a second finger in your cunt, stretching you in scissor movements, back and forth. Peter got out on his knees as he captured your lips lightly moaning huskily against your flesh: "Such a beautiful and good boy for us... You make your daddies proud like that little spider." He said as Miguel pressed his hard, pulsing erection against your ass, making you moan loudly against the other man's lips.

The two bodies fit perfectly inside you, practically crushing you with their heat as you tried not to cum on O'Hara's fingers, but the effort was in vain as you felt him easily reach your cervix. You felt one of Peter's fingers soon find your other hole, making you moan even more against his lips.

"That's it, my spider boy. Show us how much you want it." The voices mixed together as you felt like you were going to explode at any moment and it actually happened ── you came, squirting onto Miguel's forearm and dripping onto the floor as all your muscles contracted involuntarily.

"I knew it was going to be a fucking squirt." The spider leader said, laughing, as you left for the next step ── you just left yourself there, your body for the two of them to use as they wanted, you just wanted to feel good and they would guarantee that.

With careful coordination and chemistry between the three of you, you found yourself sitting on Peter's lap, your back pressed against his chest as he guided his cock to your tight hole. Meanwhile, Miguel positioned himself at your front, his hands gripping your hips as he slowly entered your dripping pussy. "Te ves tan hermoso."

Peter couldn't help but let out a groan of satisfaction as he finally buried his cock deep inside your tight ass, the feeling of being completely enveloped by your warmth and tightness was overwhelming for him, he had to fight against the urge to just thrust into you with abandon. Instead, he took deep breaths to steady himself, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Fuck, you feel incredible, baby boy. So tight and eager for me... You wanted that, didn't you? Being filled by two dicks, a greedy, needy boy..."

Miguel's primal instincts took over as he felt the tightness of your pussy around his cock, the blissful sensation causing a guttural moan to escape his lips. "I'm going to breed in that beautiful pussy of yours, boy... You're going to be our breed whore... We're going to always leave you full of cum, in that beautiful hole of yours." Miguel's hips moved in sync with Peter's, his thrusts gaining speed and force as he aimed to push you over the edge. "So beautiful and obedient, If you continue like this, being a good boy will be rewarded ok?.." the older man moaned as you felt Peter and Miguel's cocks stretch you to the edge, letting you drool on both of their cocks like an animal in heat. Just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with pleasure as you moaned their names. Parker and O'Hara continued their relentless thrusts, prolonging your orgasm and riding the waves of your ecstasy, but they hadn't stopped yet. Peter's thrusts grew more frantic as he felt your body convulse under him, the pleasure building within him as well. He knew that his release wasn't far behind.

"You're so damn tight, baby. Fuck, I'm gonna come--" His voice was filled with a mix of pleasure and urgency as he increased the pace of his thrusts. O'Hara felt his own release drawing near, your tight pussy milking his cock with each powerful thrust. His grip on your hips tightened as he neared his own climax. "Holy shit little boy, you're really going to get pregnant with us, aren't you?" As both men reached their climaxes, they filled you with their seed. Peter's hot cum filled your tight ass, while Miguel's release spilled into your pussy, marking you as theirs. Their bodies shuddered as they reached their peaks, their gazes locked on yours. Nothing needed to be phallus, not when both of your eyes reflected their red, sickly hearts, surrounded by possession and pleasure for you.

© All rights reserved to @yanderestarangel on tumblr.

[kteezy997]

Beyond Business-part three//t.c.

“Are you all ready for the Palm Springs Awards tonight?” you asked Timmy when you arrived at work, his house, the next day.

“Yeah, I guess.” he said. He looked tired, he rubbed his eyes with his hands, “I think I will take your speech with me. It will be a good script to ground myself with when I accept the award.”

“Alright. So I guess it’s good enough for you to use if you win the Golden Globe, and then we can work on a new variation for the Oscars.”

“Yes, yes, but I doubt I will need it. Those awards always favor older actors. Not that I can blame them, I am not as experienced.”

“Timmy you should be proud of your work. The awards are just a bonus for some people. It’s not a necessity to know you’ve done a great job.”

“I am proud.” he smiled then shrugged, “Maybe one day I will stop caring so much about the awards. You’re a great writer by the way. I think I’ll have you do all of my speeches with me from now on.” he grinned softly at you.

“Well, thank you. I’m glad to help, boss.” you set your purse down on the counter, "Emails today?"

You heard his phone buzz, he looked at it, then answered you, "Yeah, it'll be a short day for you today. I'll be leaving this afternoon for the ceremony."

"Okay, um, do you need me to do anything for tonight? I could come with you, if need be."

He shook his head, "No, no, I don't think that will be necessary."

You nodded as he answered a text on his phone, "Is she going?"

"Who?" he responded without looking up, totally aloof.

You sighed, "Timmy, I'm not a reporter, you don't have to play dumb with me. You know who I'm talking about."

"Yeah, I think she is going." he grumbled.

"So, should I expect a drunken phone call at two in the morning this time?" you quipped.

He looked up, stared at you, like he was trying to communicate something, even if he didn't know what it was. "I've got a phone call." he said plainly, avoiding answering, before turning away and going into the other room.

You rolled your eyes, mumbling to him, but really to yourself, "I guess I will take that as a yes. Your phone wasn't even ringing."

..........

The workday went smoothly, but the closer it got to your early dismissal, the more Timmy become agitated. He grew grumpier throughout the day, not necessarily at you, just in general. You began to wonder if he was getting enough sleep, or maybe it was just stress, or maybe it was Miss Jenner.

"Are you sure you're okay? For tonight, I mean?" you were concerned about him on a personal level, but couldn't let it show too much, so you sheathed it with the mention of the awards ceremony.

“Yeah,” he spoke softly, walking you out of his home, “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

It seemed to be a new routine for him to escort you out at the end of the work day. It was growing on you. It made you feel cared for.

“Okay, well, good luck. You’ll do great. I’ll see you tomorrow.” For some reason, you felt the urge to kiss him on the cheek, like returning the favor from the day before. But you held back, yeah it’s a good idea to hold back.

"Thank you. See you tomorrow." he gave you that signature Timmy grin.

As you headed home, you could not get the image of his face out of your mind. You didn't care for the mustache and short hair combination at first, but the look had really grown on you recently. His hair had become looser and tousled on top, and he had grown a goatee to go with the mustache, which you think brought the facial hair look together nicely. It began to suit him in a mature way, and there was something really cute and sweet about it.

But, you knew that you could not think of him like that for too long. He was your boss, and he belonged to someone else.

That evening, you wondered if you would hear from Timmy after the awards were over. You hoped that you wouldn't, and that he would be okay. Maybe he wouldn't drink, or maybe he would just have a couple and then go home. Maybe he wouldn't need you.

However, your phone rang in the middle of the night, waking you up. You peeled your eyelids open with a groan, grabbing your phone and seeing the time, 1:47 A.M. Sure enough, it was your boss calling.

Your cleared your throat as best and as quickly as you could, hitting the green answer button, "Yes, Timmy?"

"Hey, open your door would ya?"

"What?" you sat up instinctually, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"Can you open your door?" he asked louder, with more emphasis on each word.

"Okay! Jeez, sorry. I'm coming." you threw your covers off, scooted your feet across the floor to find your slippers. "I was asleep you know." you sassed into the phone at him.

"Oh, shit. I guess it's late isn't it?" you could just picture him squinting at his phone, seeing what time it was.

"Try 'early,' goodbye." you said, ending the call and scampering out of your bedroom.

.........

You opened the front door of your apartment, and there he was, waiting.

"Timmy. What are you doing here?"

"Just stopping by." he shrugged nonchalantly.

"How did you know where I lived?"

"Your job application." he said in an obvious tone.

You blinked in disbelief, “I gave that to you more than a year ago."

"Yeah, well, I have my assistant's address memorized, okay? You never know when I might need you." he insisted.

You sighed, "I guess. Please tell me you didn't drive here." You leaned outside, peeking around to see if his car was there.

"No, I took an Uber from the event." he placed his hand on the door frame next to you.

“Are you okay? Why didn’t you go home with Kylie? Or just go to your place?” you asked.

He frowned, looking down at the ground, he shook his head at your interrogation. “I don’t know.” he looked up at you, standing straight up, he took a step forward.

The close proximity between you and him felt dangerous.

He was a bit taller than you, so he leaned down close, and softly, he said, “Why can’t I stay away from you?”

You felt weak, like you could fall right to the floor. But if you did, you didn’t know if Timmy was stable enough to help you back up.

Luckily, you didn’t have to respond in any way, because he said, “Do you have a couch or something I can crash on?”

January 10, 2025

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive