#also anything better i can make on my own would take too long. :/
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Can u talk about the process of replacing your desire for unhealthy relationship dynamics that were sexually exciting with desire for explicitly negotiated kinky sex? or do I just need to wait for the essay lol
It's not actually in the piece but now that you mention it, it could make for a really strong narrative turning point.
It started by me cheating on my abusive partner with kinky people! I realized at some point during a two-year relationship in graduate school that was extremely toxic that I was so addicted to my partner because I was getting off on the control he exerted over my body and life. I wanted to get away from him, but I felt utterly dependent on how he made me feel, and he was already cheating on me...so I hopped onto OK Cupid and started flirting with some people.
It made me feel good, it made me feel like I could live on without him and build a new life for myself. I had a few fairly vanilla hookups with people at first, and it didn't do much for me, but one of those casual partners became a lifelong friend. Then a sexy, bombastic stand-up comedian who was just coming up in the local scene slid into my inbox, allured by the fact I described myself as shy. He was pushy and hyperconfident, which I liked. And when he asked me what kinks turned me on in bed, the truth came spilling out: Dom-sub.
(I wish I'd had the gall to tell him hypnosis, which had been a lifelong fetish of mine. This guy would prove to be fascinated by rare and niche kinks, but I was too ashamed of my hypnosis thing to tell anyone at that point).
The stand up comedian started domming me after that. He'd make me pay for his cab, throw me over a chair, finger me, and fuck me in the ass hard while biting my back and leaving massive welts. The sex was incredible. But he was also an egotistical 21-year-old with an active heroin addiction (he swore up and down to me that the drug 'wasn't a big deal'), and he started fucking me without a condom without my consent, which was traumatic and to this day is the reason I rarely receive anal sex. Ultimately he became controlling and jealous of my other (abusive) primary partner, and he left me, and then died of a heroin overdose after sending me a few more stray messages recounting good old times.
It was a mess. But I learned a lot about myself through this encounter, and practiced articulating what I wanted for the very first time. I was mistreated, but I also had incredibly hot sex that I still revisit in my mind's eye. I know for a fact that this stand-up comedian reviewed our own chat messages shortly before he died, and that he remembered those times fondly too. I feel bad that he died so young, and was so lost and confused, and I wish that he could have survived long enough to get better and make amends.
After that experience (and after escaping my primary abusive relationship), I got into a very safe, vanilla relationship for many years. I was too traumatized for anything else, and the gentle, passive boyfriend that I found was very healing to be with. But eventually I did get bored with the sex, and his lack of emotional availability, and became profoundly depressed. It was around this time that I started taking Sam-E , an over-the-counter anti-depressant supplement whose side effects include increased libido and a kind of dreamy headspace. On impulse, I started searching for erotic hypnosis play websites one day.
I met several hypo-kinky partners on the site I found, a now-defunct chat site called Sleepychat that would pair hypnotists with hypno-bottoms. One of them was a truly skillful, communicative, and caring partner who built a whole complex hypnotic architecture and series of safeties and triggers in my mind. We are still friends. I had lots of play with lots of people, and started attending a hypno kink convention that just so happens to occur in the Chicago suburbs. I became gradually more comfortable acknowledging my kinks to people, and made lots of hypno-kinky audio files and stories. I had other Doms and owners, and had lots of wild sex here and there. Still, my serious, long-term vanilla relationship limited me.
I only really started searching out formally kinky relationships in earnest in 2021, after ending that vanilla relationship. I've been pretty firmly embedded within a variety of kink scenes since. My taste for hypnosis led me to regular D/s, and to leather and bondage, and to pup play and furry stuff. I've really come alive in the last handful of years. I've learned so much about myself and the many scenes, met so many people, had so much great sex and so much mid sex and been in all kinds of wonderful and toxic and off putting and funny dynamics. This aspect of my life only keeps getting better, and I'm excited for lots of new experiences this year!
damn i just about gave you a full essay right here
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Back To You - Part 10 | Sam Carpenter
Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader
Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing
Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.
Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .
Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist
_______________________________________________
9 months later. . .
“Look who finally made it,” Liam teases when he opens his door.
I scoff playfully and hug him after being ushered into the apartment. “I’m sorry. I know I said I’d be here earlier, but traffic was a bitch.”
“It’s okay. I know.” He waves me off and runs a hand down his dress shirt, smoothing it out. “But I have to get going, or I’m going to be late.”
I nod and accept the spare key he hands me while slipping into his dress shoes. “Have fun!” I tease when he shrugs on his jacket.
“It’s a business dinner, not a date, Y/N.” He deadpans which makes me laugh and slap his shoulder before he leaves with a final wave and smile.
It’s the end of September and I’m visiting New York for a couple of days since I have some time off before the hockey season begins again.
I’m here to visit Liam— obviously, since I’m staying with him— but also Tara and Sam, who agreed it would be better if I stayed with Liam since they’re apartment is fairly small and their roommate, Quinn, doesn’t know me.
Since Christmas, we’ve only seen each other once, three months ago, at one of my hockey games which Sam, Tara, Mindy and Chad came to see after they all collectively moved to New York.
I was happy to see them again, and glad we were once again living in the same time zone, but there was an underlying tension the whole time we hung out because things between Sam and I haven’t been the same ever since Christmas.
While Tara and I are in contact almost daily, Sam and I barely even talk once a week. It’s not for her lack of trying though, it’s because I’ve distanced myself ever since I realized it was hopeless to think the two of us could ever be a thing.
I gave up on her, doing exactly what Tara told me not to do, and I even tried to move on, but that didn’t work out as planned.
I went on a couple of dates here and there, and hooked up with several people, but I just can’t get over Sam even though nowadays we’re barely even friends.
The only reason we could still be considered friends is because of our backstory and because Tara connects us. Other than that, we’re back to the way things were when Sam first returned to Woodsboro, and being like this hurts even more than when she was simply gone.
Those five years were undoubtedly the most painful years of my life, but now everything is so much worse. I thought I’d gotten Sam back, I thought we could finally be something, but all of that hope shattered as soon as she said she’d never do long distance. She also never acknowledged how Richie exposed my feelings for her, which makes it abundantly clear that she’d rather just forget about it and move on as friends.
I know she doesn’t owe me anything and she’s been trying to stay in contact as best as she can, but I’m just too hurt to let her back in and accept her as just a friend.
I know how stupid that sounds and it’s not my intention to hurt her by keeping my distance, but it’s just how I cope with everything.
With a sigh I enter Liam’s apartment properly and let out an impressed whistle when I realize just how big and luxurious it actually is. When he sent me his address and I saw that it was on the upper west side, I was surprised because living here is usually reserved for the rich and famous, but he explained that his company owns the building and rents its apartments to their employees for a reasonable price.
That doesn’t make it any less luxurious though, and when I take a look in the bathroom and see a rain shower with a view of the twinkling city outside I make a mental note to use it as soon as possible.
Right now, I’m hungry though, so I raid Liam’s fridge, helping myself to a smoothie and some leftover chocolate cake that he has for some reason.
The dinner he’s at right now wasn’t planned, it was a last minute thing his boss organized, but I’m not complaining. Yes, we were supposed to do something together tonight, but I’ll just check and see if Sam and Tara are free instead.
We’re supposed to meet up tomorrow for lunch, but I don’t see why I can’t stop by their place tonight, too.
I pull out my phone and call Tara after gulping down some of my smoothie. She doesn’t answer, so I reluctantly call Sam next.
Tara’s probably in the shower or something. . . God knows she loves to take long ass showers. When she lived with me my water bill almost doubled.
Sam picks up after two rings which is not surprising since I can’t remember the last time I called her instead of the other way around.
“Hey, Y/N. You okay?” Her concerned voice makes my stomach twist and I hate how she thinks something’s wrong because I’m calling her instead of Tara.
“Hey. Yeah, I’m okay. Just got into the city and was wondering if I could stop by your place for some dinner since Liam was called into work,” I say.
The sound of traffic on Sam’s end of the line makes me realize she’s not home and I think calling might have been a mistake, but she immediately agrees. “Of course. I’ll text you the address again. I’m not home yet because I just got out of therapy, but Tara and Quinn should be home.“
“Okay. Thanks.”
There’s an awkward silence, but Sam is quick to break it by saying, “Alright then. See you soon.”
“Yeah. See you.” I hang up and exhale slowly.
It’s just Sam, Y/N. Pull yourself together. You’re going to go see Tara and Sam, and their roommate, not just Sam.
The two of us haven’t been alone since Christmas eve and I’m not planning on changing that anytime soon.
I finish the piece of cake and throw away the empty smoothie bottle before grabbing a zip up hoodie from my bag and heading out of the apartment.
Sam and Tara’s apartment is quite far away, and because I’m not in the mood to call an Uber or take the subway, I take one of the public e scooters standing around, unlocking it with my phone before heading off.
It’s nice getting some fresh air after being cooped up in my car for hours and not even fifteen minutes later I’m in front of the building Sam sent me the address of.
I get off the scooter and park it around the corner, making my way inside the building after getting buzzed in by some random person.
Compared to Liam’s building, this place is a dump, but it seems relatively safe and affordable, so who am I to judge. This is New York after all.
I head up the stairs and knock on the door of Sam and Tara’s apartment, my heart rate picking up with each second that passes until the door finally opens.
Having expected Sam or Tara, I’m surprised when a stranger greets me. It’s a red haired girl, around Tara’s age, with a round face and gray eyes. She’s dressed in only a robe and I momentarily avert my eyes when she reties it around her waist.
“Hi, you must be Quinn,” I say, raising my hand in greeting.
Quinn’s eyes rake over me and she smirks before her eyes snap back up to mine. “Yeah, and you’re Y/N, right?”
I nod, feeling slightly uncomfortable under her hungry gaze. “The one and only,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
Quinn’s face softens ever so slightly and her smirk turns into a genuine smile. “So I heard. . . You’re here to see Sam and Tara?” she guesses and when I nod again, she opens the door properly and invites me inside.
“Sam should be here any minute, but Tara is out,” she says.
I frown. “She’s out? Sam said she’d be here.”
Quinn smiles apologetically and goes to say something but then a man’s voice from a nearby room calls for her. “Babe? You coming back or what?”
My eyes widen and I feel heat rushing into my cheeks. That’s why she’s only wearing a robe. “Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to. . . interrupt you and your boyfriend.”
“My boyfriend?” Quinn laughs as if the idea is ridiculous and waves me off. “Oh don’t worry. He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just hooking up.” She eyes me once again with that lustful look in her eyes and bites her lip seductively, squeezing my biceps. “You could join us if you want. The more the merrier, am I right?”
I squirm and pull my arm out of her grasp with an uncomfortable smile. “Uh, no thanks. I’m good.”
God, what’s up with her?
I want to ask about Tara’s whereabouts again when the door behind us opens.
My eyes instantly lock with Sam’s and even though I’m nervous to see her again, I’m also relieved she’s here to distract Quinn from making a move on me again.
“Y/N. . .” She hugs me after a moment’s hesitation before shrugging off her jacket and hanging it up on the hook next to the door. “I see you’ve already met Quinn.”
I rub the back of my neck awkwardly and avoid looking at the aforementioned roommate. “Mhmm.”
Quinn, having absolutely no shame whatsoever, touches my arm again. “Yeah. Why didn’t you tell me Y/N was such a snack, Sam?”
Oh lord. . .
My face heats up again, but Sam is quick to come to my rescue. She raises an unimpressed eyebrow before stepping in between Quinn and me which forces the redhead to let go of me.
“Right. I forgot you don’t like to share.” Quinn laughs, unbothered and turns to head into the kitchen.
“Sorry about that. I know she can be a bit much sometimes.” Sam glances at me over her shoulder, and I wave her off nervously.
“It’s okay.“
She turns as soon as Quinn is out of sight and I hold my breath at how close she is.
She looks as beautiful as ever even though she looks tired and I curse my heart for flipping in my chest when she picks a piece of lint off my shoulder.
The white off-shoulder top she’s wearing over her tank top looks incredible on her and I have to force myself not to look at her exposed neck and collar bones too much, a task that is incredibly hard because she’s wearing the necklace I gave her for Christmas.
It glints in the low light and even though the knowledge that she still wears it makes my insides melt, it also serves as a reminder why I’ve been keeping my distance.
Don’t get hurt again, Y/N.
I swallow thickly and lean back a little, not missing the way confusion and hurt flashes across Sam’s face before she clears her throat and steps back.
She looks anywhere but at me before asking Quinn, “Have you seen Tara?”
Quinn, who was just about to open a bottle of wine in the kitchen turns with a sheepish smile. “Uh, don’t be mad. . .”
I frown and follow Sam into the kitchen.
“Why would I be mad?” Sam asks and the way Quinn winces slightly at her tone makes my lips twitch with amusement.
“Because you get mad,” she says and I can’t help but agree silently.
Sam does have a temper, however I’m not sure why she’d be mad when Quinn tells her where Tara is as long as she’s not alone.
“Babe?” The guy from what I’m assuming is Quinn’s bedroom calls for her again which makes Sam’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, the question of Tara’s whereabouts momentarily forgotten.
“Is that Paul?” she asks and Quinn cringes when the guy shouts, “Who the fuck is Paul?”
“Life, I have found,” she says quietly with an innocent shrug, “is all about variety.”
This time I can’t help but smile properly, and Sam chuckles softly, too.
“So, uh, where’s Tara?” she asks after a moment which makes Quinn sigh helplessly, the wine on the counter forgotten as she toys with the bottle opener in her hands.
“She went to the Omega Kappa Beta party.”
Huh. I didn’t think Tara’d be one to enjoy frat parties but I guess she’s young and wants to try everything now that she’s in a new city and in college.
Sam doesn’t seem to agree though and it’s clear why Quinn was scared of her getting mad when she exclaims, “What? I begged her not to go to that!”
I want to tell her that it’s just a party, but she seems to haver her reasons why she doesn’t want Tara there, so I stay quiet.
Quinn sighs again. “And we’ve now arrived at mad. . .”
I try my best not to smile— Quinn’s actually pretty funny now that she’s not trying to sleep with me— and focus on Sam instead.
She seems ready to explode, but gathers herself by taking a deep breath and closes her eyes momentarily. Then she deflates and when she asks, “Do you know if she at least took her taser?” she sounds more worried than mad.
A taser?
Quinn grabs the wine off the counter and pushes the cork screw into the cork before twisting it and opening the bottle. “I cannot speak to how heavily armed Tara is at this fraternity party,” she says hesitantly which makes Sam huff in frustration and brush past me back to the front door where she grabs a taser from a dresser.
I follow her, knowing she’s going to go back out to look for Tara, and Quinn follows me with the now open bottle of wine in hand, ready to return to her not-boyfriend.
Sam eyes the taser for a moment, her jaw working and I move around her to grab her jacket off the hook for her.
Right as I reach for it though, Quinn says something that makes me freeze. “Oohh. Is cute boy shirtless again?”
My head snaps around so fast, it’s a miracle it doesn’t snap, and my eyes instantly land on what, or rather who, Quinn and Sam are looking at through the window. There’s a shirtless guy, seemingly my age or a couple years older in the apartment right across from us.
I have to admit, he is cute with his neatly trimmed beard and muscular upper body, and I even smile when Quinn’s not-boyfriend asks, “Who’s cute boy, babe?” and Quinn cringes, replying, “Always you. . . sweetie.” But that smile is quickly wiped off my face when I see the way Sam is looking at him.
Her eyes are soft and there’s something like longing written all over her face which feels like a sucker punch to the stomach.
This is why I keep my distance. . . She’s not mine and if she likes this cute boy, there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s not that I’m jealous, I’m just hurt and I’m once again reminded to keep my heart guarded.
But then Sam’s eyes snap to me and her face instantly falls and something like guilt flickers across her eyes, but I don’t dwell on it and avert my own eyes, staring at my shoes and fidgeting with Liam’s key in the pocket of my hoodie.
“You guys have been checking each other out for months, why don’t you just talk to him?” Quinn asks softly, and once again, it feels like I’ve been punched in the stomach.
Sam turns away from the window and I feel her eyes on me, but I don’t look up. “Because. . .” Her voice falters ever so slightly before going on. “That right there is all the romantic interaction I’m ready for.”
Once again a reminder that she’s not over Richie, and definitely not into me. . .
Out of the corner of my eye I see Quinn shrug and when Sam says, “I’m going to find Tara, you coming with me, Y/N?” I nod wordlessly without meeting her eye, and follow her out of the apartment after returning Quinn’s awkward wave.
I’m doing exactly what I planned on avoiding, which is being alone with Sam, but my worry for her going out alone outweighs my need to keep my distance, so I silently follow her down the stairs and outside where she pulls out her phone to look up the directions to the frat house.
I forgot you don’t like to share. . .
Quinn’s words suddenly echo through my mind and I frown because Sam and I obviously aren’t a thing, but before I can dwell on it too long, Sam nudges me and starts walking. “Come on, let’s go. The frat house isn’t too far from here, so we can walk.”
I wordlessly fall into step beside her, intent on not talking about what just happened, but she seems to have other plans because after we cross the street she turns to me with furrowed eyebrows and says, “You know, Danny and I aren’t a thing or anything. . .”
“What?” I know she probably means cute boy, but I wasn’t expecting her to say that. I thought they only knew each other because they live across from each other, but it seems as though they know each other better than that. Also, the fact that Sam is trying to deny that something is going on between them makes me believe there actually is something going.
Which is fine. . . Totally fine. She’s an adult and she can make her own choices.
“Y-you know,” she stutters. “The guy, Cute Boy, he and I, we’re not a thing. Not really— I mean we’re just—“
I stop dead in my tracks and raise a hand which makes her shut up and stop walking as well. “Why are you telling me this?”
She seems taken aback by the harshness of my tone and frowns, so I sigh and add, “I mean, I don’t tell you anything about my love life, so why are you telling me about yours?”
Sam’s frown deepens. “I just— I thought you should know— I mean. . . You’re my best friend.”
I scoff and before I can stop myself I say, “Am I though?”
“What?”
“Your best friend?” I clarify, ignoring how crushed she looks at the implication of my words. “We’ve barely spoken in nine months.”
“And whose fault is that?” she snaps back defensively. She crosses her arms over her chest and eyes me with a challenging glare.
I know she’s not actually mad, she’s just hurt and she’s put up her guard, so I deflate a little.
She’s right, it’s my fault we haven’t really talked since Christmas, but I’m not about to spill the beans and tell her why.
“Look,” I say softly. “Let’s not get into this now.”
“Why not?” she asks harshly. “Because you can’t just hang up if it gets too much?”
I cringe at that because lately every time she calls and asks what’s wrong I usually come up with an excuse to hang up or ignore her texts.
I shake my head and let out a deep breath. “Let’s just find Tara okay, we can get into this tomorrow.”
Sam bites the inside of her cheek and the storm of emotions in her eyes makes me believe she’s about to disagree, but then she huffs and turns around to continue leading our way to the frat house.
Long story short, at the party, Sam ends up tasing a guy who tried to drag Tara upstairs in the balls which in turn leads to Tara storming out with the rest of us— Mindy, her girlfriend Anika, Chad, Chad’s roommate Ethan, Sam, and me— hot on her heels.
“Tara, will you stop?” Sam says, sounding irritated as Tara continues to dash ahead. She’s short and has asthma, so she’s not going all too fast, but still. . .
She has yet to realize I’m also here, but I don’t want to get in the middle of what’s about to go down between her and Sam, so I stay back with the others, the twins having greeted me with quick hugs a moment ago before officially introducing me to Anika and Ethan.
“I cannot believe you did that! You embarrassed me!” Tara shouts over her shoulder.
“That guy was a dick. He was going to take advantage of you,” Sam argues and even though she’s right, that guy was really sleazy, she didn’t actually have to tase him. Also it looked like Chad had it covered, but I’m not about to get in the middle of this.
“So?” Tara stops abruptly and turns on her heels to face Sam.
The rest of us come to a halt a safe distance away, but I raise my eyebrows at what Tara just said.
“So?” Sam echoes incredulously, voicing my exact thoughts, but Tara is not having it.
“If I want to hook up with an asshole that’s my decision!” she shouts and even though she’s right, it is her decision, I don’t like the way she’s talking to Sam like she did something wrong by trying to protect her.
Sam tenses and I know what Tara just said hit a nerve, but she stays calm and simply nods dismissively. “Okay. . .”
Tara doesn’t seem to be done just yet though because she goes on, “I mean, you’re out of my life for five years and then you can’t leave me alone for five minutes.”
Yikes. She’s right, but. . . yikes.
“Because you’re not dealing with what happened to us,” Sam shoots back, her voice relatively calm. “Have you even gone to see the counselor once?”
“No, I’m not going to.”
“Why not?”
I sigh and share at look with Chad and Mindy who seem to be hating this just as much as me, if not even more because it sounds like this isn’t the first time the two sisters have been at each other’s throats.
Anika and Ethan just look uncomfortable and if it weren’t for the fight I’d laugh at how ridiculous they look, what with Ethan wearing Anika’s pumpkin hat and Anika wearing Ethan’s ridiculous cardboard helmet that matches his handcrafted chest plate.
“Hey, guys, come on,” Chad tries to step in at one point when Tara accuses Sam of living in the past, but he’s straight up ignored and I shoot him a pitiful look when our eyes meet.
They continue bickering, and even though I agree with Tara that we shouldn’t let something that happened to us for three days define the rest of our lives, I don’t like how she puts Sam on the spot in front of everyone by asking why she’s in New York with the rest of them.
After what feels like hours, they finally stop which is when, out of nowhere, a girl walking by yells, “Murderer!” and throws her drink at Sam.
Sam recoils and chaos erupts. There’s shouting and cursing, and a bunch of accusations thrown at Sam about God knows what, and I’m barely fast enough to rush forward and wrap my arms around her stomach from behind to prevent her from lunging at the girl who threw her drink at her.
Everything is over in a blur and before we know it the grill and her friends have left and the people who stopped and stood around to watch are moving on as though nothing happened.
I let go of Sam as soon as I’m sure she won’t do anything reckless again and step back, seeing out of the corner of my eye that Chad is also holding back Tara.
“What the fuck was that?” I ask, but no one answers and Sam even looks away as though she’s ashamed of something.
“Let’s just go.” Tara sighs and turns to leave, grabbing Anika’s and Chad’s arm.
Mindy frowns but agrees and is quick to follow them, leaving Ethan behind with me and Sam, who is currently trying to wring out her shirt.
“Hey, I. . . I have tissues if you want tissues,” Ethan offers kindly, pulling some tissues out of his pocket and handing them to Sam.
She wordlessly takes them and Ethan awkwardly looks between the two of us for a moment, obviously not knowing what else to do before hurrying after the others.
What an odd kid.
Sam dabs at her neck and hair where most of the drink hit her and she’s about to brush past me to follow the others as well, but I step in front of her and gently touch her forearm.
“Wait.”
Defeated brown eyes find mine, and the way she deflates when looking at me breaks my heart.
I have no idea what that girl and her friends meant when they called her a murderer and when they said she “knows what she did”, but now’s not the time to ask about it.
I take the used tissues from Sam and momentarily stuff them into the back pocket of my jeans so I have my hands free to unzip and take off my hoodie.
“Here, take this.” I hold it out to Sam, who simply eyes it with furrowed eyebrows.
“What?”
“Take off your shirt and put this on. I know how you hate it when clothes stick to you.” I wiggled the hoodie a little and raise an eyebrow until she sighs and takes it.
When we were kids I found out how she hates wearing wet clothes after pushing her into our pool after school once.
She wasn’t mad at first because it was summer and we both really needed to cool off, but then she got out of the water and her mood immediately turned sour.
She never explained why, but I knew it was because of her clothes clinging to her, so I never pushed her into the water again unless she was wearing a bikini or swimsuit.
“Thank you.” Sam’s small voice brings me back to reality and when I look up again I see she’s already changed into my hoodie. Her shirt is clutched between her fingers to the point where her knuckles are turning white, but I don’t comment on it.
She’s humiliated, sad, angry, and embarrassed, so all I say is, “You’re welcome,” before gesturing for her to lead the way and follow the others.
She lowers her chin in silent thanks again and starts walking, and I follow her after quickly darting over to one of the nearby trash cans and disposing of the tissues.
What a night. . . Maybe I should have stayed at Liam’s and watched some TV.
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We’re in New York, people! And Ghostface is right around the corner. . .
Poor Sam, getting a drink thrown on her, but the way she clapped back at reader on their way to the party? Damn. . .
And Tara hasn’t even acknowledged reader yet hahah but it’s okay, they’ll talk in the next part.
Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23 @idontliketoread2137
#x reader#sam carpenter x reader#samantha carpenter x reader#sam carpenter#samantha carpenter#scream#light angst
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Earthspark Analysis
S1 Ep3 - Moo-ving In
- Bee is speeding, great start!
- Okay jumping the train was actually sick.
- Bee is so tired of this stuff already.
- THERE’S A CALF!!! She makes me miss my own babies back on the farm!
- Bee scaring the baby >:(
- Not Thrash imitating the transformation sound
- Okay yeah transformation is definitely instinctual and not base book.
- Bee’s eyebrows do look like that.
- Alright, Bee is definitely struggling with the reintegration. He wants to be back with the other autobots, badly in fact. It’s making him struggle with this mission because he wants to rush it so badly. Which makes sense, I would want to be back with my friends as well if I were gone for so long. However, I don’t think taking a note from Megatron’s book is going to do well here.
- “Big bumbling know it all” Lmao
- I would like to preface and say that is is clear Twitch is trying to take Bumblebee’s advice despite not exactly liking him yet.
- Bumblebee getting startled by a cow is very funny.
- Okay Elita has a much better view on how to lead! Knowing your team is important. The problem here however is the terrans might not know themselves well either.
- The kids being cute is actually adorable and again I would kill a man for these four.
- Bee has a valid reason to be mad about the walkie talkies I feel.
- Oh stars a family game night
- Bee is just STRUGGLING, I wonder if this is from lack of contact and communication
- Ah yes, discourse
- Oh, there’s the snap
- Yes, tell Bee off, I too get angry when people disrespect my cow (I love you Millie)
- Flying through the ceiling because you’re angry, valid I suppose, though I am concerned about the property damage.
- Not the dad still going
- I love that the terrans are child-like, the swap from being angry to being excited about something is certainly a child like thing to do. Distractions might not be good all the time but they can help you figure out feelings with being influenced about your emotions. Stressful event happens, offer a distraction to calm emotions, return to evaluate.
- Twitch struggling to change back, oh I love it
- Optimus you little glitch with that voicemail tone
- Okay I love Dot for the comment, “If you figure out how to get them to listen let me know how” not only is she sharing the fact she struggles with the same issue but she’s validating Bee as well, it’s something he most definitely needs right now.
- Awe, his little smile! Bee’s so cute
- If anything happens to these cows I will go feral
- Bee finally understanding that his teaching style may not be the best way of going about things does wonders for me.
- Maltobots!!
- Calling the cows doggies <3
- Bee can lift a hay roll. With ease. Can he fucking juggle cows? Because that hay roll definitely weighs about the same as one of those cows. Which is about 1200 pounds. I get it giant alien robot but still >^>
- Went from Fluffy Ears being stuck to Twitch being stuck, I hadn’t even considered the fact that pedes could get stuck like that.
- Is this train foreshadowing. Is that what this is. That’s such a baller move
- Corn
- Ah yes character development as you’re about to be crushed by a train
- Not the train pun
- Also love the way Bee is holding Fluffy Ears
- Spin hug!!! I love spin hugs
- Bee is family, I love that <3
- Family game night take two!
- Bro just slid Optimus, that’s wild
Characters:
Twitch: She’s definitely gaining character, that I’m happy about. Over all I see a very big need for development, she seems to doubt herself a lot though and that shows with her transformation troubles.
Thrash: I didn’t get much from him this episode in all honesty but it looks like the next episode is about him.
Bumblebee: In the beginning of the episode it’s quite obvious to me that Bee struggles with familiarity, he didn’t seem comfortable on Earth and he didn’t seem comfortable with the Maltos. The definitely changes though even in the beginning when he’s working on getting advice from the others. It’s subtle in the beginning but no change in immediate. By the end of the episode he definitely seems much more relaxed, at ease with his situation and willing to put in the effort now that he understands how to do things, and now that he sees the Maltos as something more than a job.
Footnotes:
- Wanna preface and say I’m sorry this took so long, before I started this I began some training and it took more effort than I thought along with the craziness of the holiday season.
- Now, I don’t have much to really say but it’s wonderful we get to see the terrans act like children, it’s wonderful that they think how kids do. It’s amazing they don’t have experience because they shouldn’t. I’m loving each minor detail in this, can’t wait to see the Decepticons and I especially can’t wait to see the villain development of Mandroid.
Earthspark Analysis
How this will work:
- Starting from this post there will be a series of reblogs.
- Each will begin with the episode number/title.
- Important characters will be given an analysis based on their behavior/decisions/choice of words.
- I may also focus on background characters at times should I see anything interesting.
- I will also focus on other things, for example, if there are fights scenes I will likely make comments.
What you should expect:
I am by no means an expert and this is solely for fun! If you don’t like/agree with what I think that’s okay! In the end we’re all just having fun and this is just for the silly!
Things to watch out for:
I can be oblivious at times! Tell me if I missed something you think is important and I’ll try to round back and take a gander!
🩵 Now let’s get this show on the road! 🩵
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I've referenced before how I have a big google document to keep track of every media I've ever seen in my entire life (just for reference because I like to track everything possible lol… I am the Data Collector), but recently as I was updating it, I thought of actually evaluating them to find out random percentages (like for example, out of Total Shows Watched, what percentage did I finish vs. stop watching, what percentage did I like or dislike, etc.)...
Evaluating these things is made easier by the fact that I already place everything on each subsection of the list into 6 broad ranking categories, so I don't have to go back and guess to figure out how I feel about them or anything. The categories are: Ranking 5 - overall best* (despite some criticisms of course because I'm too much of an Analyzer to ever find anything Perfect lol) Ranking 4 - more positive than neutral, but not good enough to be 5 Ranking 3 - either the good + bad negate each other, OR it's just not memorable/interesting in any way enough to be ranked higher or lower (this is the Default category ALL things are placed in if no other rank applies) Ranking 2 - maybe a few redeemable elements but largely more negatives than positives Ranking 1 - So bad that it circles around to being fascinating to observe in some way (not necessarily Funny, or Good, but just interesting somehow) Ranking 0 - Bad in a genuinely frustrating or obnoxious manner
*("best" primarily defined here as most interesting, rather than most good in a technical sense, or some other measure. I tend to value more highly whether there's something novel or thoughtful about the worldbuilding, tone, writing, base premise, etc - than about whether it's actually executed perfectly.)
And here's the amount of shows that have so far been placed into each category -
TV shows ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 20 shows ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 28 shows ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 114 shows ~ Rank 2 (mid low) -33 shows ~ Rank 1 (low low but intriguingly so) - 14 shows ~ Rank 0 (iredeemably low) - 2 shows
This would make for a total of 211 TV shows overall. However, there are 57 shows within these list marked as "didn't finish" (typically meaning I quit on the very first or second episode - but log them still to keep a record that I at least had a brief view of them).
So my total of genuinely fully watched shows would be more 154. 211 Total, but a More Accurate Total of 154.
Counting them all and using the Total Number Of The List (211) -- that means roughly 9.5% of all total shows I have ever watched (or at least attempted to watch) have been Mostly Good, 13% have been Moderately Okay, 54% have been either entirely Forgettable or some mix of good + bad that lands them right in the Neutral Middle, 15.6% have been Mostly Bad, 6.6% have been Bad (but in an interesting way), and 0.9% have been Terribly Bad.
Additionally, I didn't even get past the first two episodes of about 27% of the total.
Sooo, discounting ones I didn't finish, my total TV shows ever watched in my life would be about 154 (maybe give or take a few, assuming I might have forgotten some from very long ago).
But instead of entire life, let's just say this is the total for 'About 20 Years' (so, not counting very early childhood when I likely wouldn't remember things I saw/have no detailed recollection of them (like for example, I'm sure at some point when I was like 4yrs old I must have seen an episode of Spongebob or something, but I have zero distinct memories of it, can't quote anything of it, and barely recall the premise - so I don't count it on the list, etc.)).
In that case, 154 divided by 20 would be roughly 7.7 shows a year.
Which is actually surprisingly low considering that I often have stuff on in the background for hours whilst I make sculptures and do costumes and stuff (maybe I should have also marked some distinction between 'things I fully paid attention to' and 'things I kind of half listened to whilst sculpting', but that would further split the categories too much probably lol), but I guess a lot of that is youtube videos or random documentaries, so .. eh.. maybe I get it being lower.
Now, doing the same thing for movies-
Movies ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 4 movies (3.4% of total) ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 12 movies (10.3% of total) ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 91 movies (78.4% of total) ~ Rank 2 (mid low) - 8 movies (6.8% of total) ~ Rank 1 (low but interesting) - 1 movie (0.8% of total) ~ Rank 0 (irredeemably low) - none in this category (0%)
That makes 116 for a Total (Actually Remembered) Movies Watched In Lifetime (Or At Least In 20 Years).
116 divided by 20 is roughly 5 or 6 movies a year (I feel this has probably been skewed though by adding everything since like elementary school onwards, as I remember a lot more movies from child/teen years.. Whereas, the past 3 years I feel like I've barely seen maybe even 5 movies?? lol). I also have "Didn't Finish" marked on 18 of them. Which means I quit halfway through about 15% of the total movies.
So, a for broader summary stuff..
I seem to be less forgiving to movies than tv shows, by far. Which makes sense to me, I guess, because I love elaboration and details, so "short form" things that only last an hour or two are often lost on me a bit. My biggest complaint with movies is indeed usually walking away just wishing there had been more exposition, more scenes where characters are doing nothing, more "mindless bantering" conversations, more Quiet Downtime and Lore Elaboration and so on lol, so... of course most 1-2hr films end up feeling a bit Not Enough To Draw My Interest/Nothingy to me.
If you count 5 and 4 as "like" and rankings 2 to 0 as "dislike", then for TV shows I at least somewhat liked 48 of them, and at least somewhat disliked 47 of them.. So it's almost exactly the same lol. I'm just about equally as likely to find something bad as I am to find something redeeming about it. But overall, the largest chance is that I just won't really care much for it at all and it will be tossed into the 'neutral' pile, forgotten forever. Movies have a bit better of a balance, "liking" 16 of them, and "disliking" only 9 of them. So I'm slightly more likely to enjoy a movie than to find it annoying - though still VASTLY more likely to just not find it anything in particular, possibly not even finishing it.
ANYWAY.. this is vague and literally pointless, but like I said, I just really find information fun. Like my document where I've rated every apple flavor I've ever tried (like 40 of them now?), or reviewed every oreo flavor (32?), or ranking data from my entire 10 years of Trying To Make Friends process (out of 100 people, roughly 8% chance of a moderate compatibility, 3% chance of high), or etc. etc.. I love to have random pointless things to analyze I suppose lol.
I doubt anyone tracks things in their life in this same exact way, but I'd be interested in hearing any at least somewhat similar data !!! (like, how many TV shows you watch a year on average, and what percentage of those you like vs. dislike (if you keep track of that sort of thing), etc.)). I guess it might be easier with movies, since I think some people use those websites where you curate a list of movies you've seen and you can rate them or something, so maybe the numbers are already available on those places. :0
#maybe this is my version of spotify wrapped lol.. Lifetime Media Google Doc Wrapped.. kind of.. except I'm not going over specific titles.#I can't do this with music since I rarely EVER look for new music or add to my Youtube To MP3 folder library as I just don't really#listen to music that often. When I'm working (the majority of when I seek background noise) I need like.. people's talking voices#for some reason. Just instruments and singing are not distracting enough to me to work as background noise because theyre#almost TOO in the background if that makes sense? like if I put music on then I just tune it out and it's virtually no different#than if I were daydreaming stream of consciousness thoughts in an entirely quiet room lol. And I can't really do it with books since#essentially 100% of what I read is non-fiction. usually about some specific subject or academic topic OR stuff like#1800s magazines or cookbooks or historical people's diaries. Which is not really.. the type of thing I would#rank as easily I guess? like 'ooh yeah putting the sociology textbook in my top 5 hee hee right next to the 1920s radio recipes book' lol.#Then for games... I just sadly dont play enough of them. I've been banned from new games as I've told myself I cant play anyting#long form (no rpgs or etc) until I actually finish MY OWN game first - to keep me from wasting time. so on average#I play... 0 new games a year. ToT... I do play the sims sometimes but that's really all (which is not a new game at all since#I've been playing it on and off for years). Thus I guess movies/TV are really the only things that make sense#to collect this sort of information on. I could do youtube videos I guess also but that seems kind of strange like...#giving a rating to every single video I watch in a ranked list lol.. Especially since I would say a good 85% of the time#they are exclusively background noise whilst I'm working on something or cleaning the house or etc. and not things I pay serious attention#to. There are only a few specific topics/types/creators of videos I watch where I'm ACTUALLY sitting in front of a screen paying#direct attention to the content (usually when it's educational or political things). Everything else is too mindless to even rank.#ANYWAY... ever analyzing my little hermit Weird Relationship To Media (in the sense of seemingly not processing or getting the same#things out of it as many other seem to). I think that can contribute sometimes to the whole difficulty socializing and stuff#since our culture is very centered around media consumption generally speaking. People want to talk about The New Movie that came#out or The Big TV Show Of The Year. and for me it's like.. highly likely I just plain have NOT seen it. Or if i have. statistically#I most likely was entirely ambivalent if not slightly negative towards it lol. Which just kind of takes the steam out of a 'fun' 'casual'#conversation and you seem like a bit of a bummer if most of your only feedback is either 'idk what that is' or 'oh yea... i did#see that one.... i didnt like it all that much though... I think it'd be better with elves in it.. and 7 hours longer..'' lol..#Which I am not disliking things in a 'grr i hate it bc its popular'/just to be contrarian way. I actually dislike that mindset/find it#silly (by striving so hard to be counterculture you are thus still defining yourself by the whims of external culture - just in the#opposite direction. but are still just as preoccupied with the mainstream (going against it) as everyone else. etc. lol..)) In my#case I think it IS just having niche hyperspecific tastes.. for example- it peeves me when cell phones are in media bc I dont want to be#reminded at ALL of the real world. so.. cross off anything set in modern times. so on & etc. Judging all things by these weird criteria lol
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I know I need to eat something before work but dear god do we have NOTHING appealing.
#ramblings#have been living off of mac n cheese. ramen. and doritos nachos rotated for the past like. week or so and i am soooo tired of it#i have hated leftovers days bc like. fuck all we have is shit i dont wanna eat im so fucking tired of pasta#also anything better i can make on my own would take too long. :/#ventings
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Homicipher Random Headcanons/Scenarios [NSFW]
Edit:11/07/2024
I desperately needed to post the random head canons and scenarios of our husbands that my brain kept cooking up (+ some from discord friends), so the list is not organized. Also, since we shape shift, I'm going to assume we can choose whenever we have a cock or pussy (because I want to be fucked and do the fucking) Anyways...enjoy the food thought.
Characters: Mr. Crawling, Mr. Chopped Mr. Silvair, Mr. Hood, Mr. Gap, Mr. Machete, Mr. Scarletella
Warnings: mentions of NSFW, mentions of some canon-typical violence, implications of dubcon, mentions of somnophilia, implied cuckold
Mr. Crawling
He can be submissive top. Constantly asking you if you love him during intimacy. He would ask if you enjoy playing with him as you pound yourself onto him. He would be a moaning mess and probably wouldn't know what to do about it as he clumsily places his hands around your waist.
He would definitely eat you out without you asking once intimacy had been initiated.
Afraid of hurting you, he wouldn't be too rough, instead he would be more tender and gentler when it comes to intimacy.
He definitely would love it when you play with his hair, allowing you to braid it or do whatever as long it doesn't involve cutting his precious hair.
He actually gets jealous easily, but he doesn't verbalize it, instead he shows it through his actions.
He is better with his hands, than his cock. So sometimes you prefer that over his cock. His cock is more on the average/smaller side and it's cute.
He definitely has a praise kink.
Mr. Chopped
He lacks a body, so to make up for it he is extremely expressive and open with his feelings. Which makes him a little fun to bully, to see all those cute expressions he could make.
He probably would be very good with his mouth and tongue, let him be your personal rose toy/fleshlight if you will. He can't fight back and have no choice but to whimper about it.
Imagine getting sick and fainting with him nearby, he can't move or do anything but helplessly cry for you to wake up and starts crying out help for Mr. Silvair to come help him and you.
Maybe one day, for a day of tricks and pranks. Mr. Stitch will allow Mr. Chopped a day in his body, so they swap places, stitching Mr. Chopped in place of Mr. Stitch's head. It had been a very long time since Mr. Chopped felt sensations beyond his head, so he happens to be very sensitive and clumsy with his hands. Everywhere you touch overwhelms him, he melts and becomes a moaning mess, but Mr. Chopped isn't the only one feeling all these sensations. Mr. Stitch can still feel it too. He is intrigued by today's type of play.
He definitely would be more on the whiny and needy side when it comes to pleasure, he lacks a body, but he can still feel lust. He can't do anything about it, which makes him extremely needy and extra pouty.
Mr. Silvair
Definitely would have had intimacy with other ghosts/humans before to research the body and performance during mid transformation if it differed.
Imagine one day he finds a mysterious liquid that fell from the 'other world' and feeds it to you, himself and the other ghosts in your crew. Only to find out it was an aphrodisiac. It was the first time he felt such a strong sensation of lust. At first, he mistakes this strong desire to be violence, so he starts to self-inflict wounds onto himself. You attempt to stop him, but soon find yourself to be underneath him as he bites into your neck, drawing blood. Surprised at seeing the often-composed man, turning into a ravage beast. You somehow manage to find something to tie him up and have your way with him.
He probably likes overstimulation on you...but also himself. He would love to research on how much his body can go and handle.
He would actually be a switch, for research purposes. To take and give he'd do anything for research. It had been long long ago since his body used to be human, and he often forgets about his own experiences if he doesn't write them down, but no worries, he has you by his side now to keep remembering.
Mr. Hood
He is quiet but speaks whenever he finds it suited for. But if you need him, he would be happy to talk with you.
He is a bit insecure about his body, he doesn't have arms or hands or even legs, he is an entity of nothing. The clothes are what shape his form, and well maybe he not entirely a entity of nothing. You had a glimpse before, a small glimpse and sensation of a squishy and somewhat slimy part that had belonged to him. You never mentioned though, but if it was you'd love him still anyways.
He realized that some words had been a bit harder for you to keep in mind and remember and so he thought of a special way to get you learning. Learning with what humans call pleasure. He fucks you and asks you what certain things are, and if you get it wrong, he denies you from coming. You have become determined to learn your words properly even more so now. Because if you remember you get rewarded with the most absolute fulfilling fuck of your life.
Since most of his body is invisible or nothing. If you mouth fucked him you would be able to see that real good, it is strangely erotic watching your cock move inside his mouth.
Mr. Gap
When you're sleeping, sometimes he might just cuddle against your leg or lower half. He loves the feeling of warmth, compared to his hollow darkness.
He definitely seems like the type of person to eat you out while you're asleep. Playing around and waiting for you to wake up to watch your reaction. Of course, he would only do this though if he knew you'd allow it. He values consent.
Imagine taking your backpack to school and you have to take out a pencil for a test. When you open your backpack, you realize it is just an empty void and hear a voice asking for your heart in exchange for the pencil. Yeah... you accepted your fate. You just failed your exam...
When you become a moaning mess under him, he can't understand but he knows that from your sweet voice, and moans, that it's a good thing. He knows to keep continuing.
One day Mr. Gap gathers his usual newspapers that fall from the rubble or somehow manages to grab one from the human realm. He notices a magazine that discusses about marriage and giving rings on the fourth finger. Intrigued about this idea, he asks you for your all four of your fingers, but you misunderstand and refuse to give him your fingers. He's sad but soon you later find out that he was asking for your hand in marriage, literally but also figuratively.
Mr. Machete
We would wonder aimlessly for an eternity together searching for his/your home. But eventually our subconscious would recognize each other as home instead.
He would definitely mock and laugh at how fast you would falter/melt under his touch. Calling you "weak" for coming so fast but would give kisses here and there after the mocking.
He'd probably be into throat fucking and laugh at you looking pathetic, he loves reactions that aren't boring, so seeing you choke on his cock seems like a great idea.
He definitely would come inside most of the time.
When he fucks you, his cock would probably bulge out a little from your stomach, fascinated by it he'd roughly press his hand down near that area.
He is our beefy dumb macho, perfect.
If you mouth/fucked him he would tell you he feels nothing, but his eyes would already be red and tearing. He's a pathetic coward.
Mr. Scarletella
He belongs to you, and you belong to him, together forever, in a hellish world. He loves the destruction you bring into his life and does the same for you.
Oh boy, he would absolutely devour you, his queen, in pleasure. Fuck you stupid to the point you're just a blabbering mess, hands on waist, and long fingers in your mouth, as he pounds deeply into you.
He seems like the type of guy to fuck you during your period.
Definitely gets jealous easily and he makes it know when he gets that way.
Imagine your fucked/fucking another ghost and you hear static within the distance, the sound slowly starts to come closer and closer until you hear the static in the room. Your crimson servant arrives and witnesses your fantastic display of intimacy. Jealous, he kills them and becomes extra possessive and quite terrifying, but you love it so much. How he seems so lost and pathetic without you.
You don't know his name, but neither does he know yours. Despite this disconnect, you still manage to give him some sort of other named to be called. It's connected to your name, but he knows it's not all of it, he can't fully whisk you away, but he's okay with that. You are still bound to him for an eternity anyway.
If Mr. Scarletella went back to the human world with you instead, he would appear to be the one most suited for fitting in. Just slack some foundation on his face, make him wear gloves and he would blend in quite well. Well...except for his odd habit of asking every stranger for their name and laughing and giggling crazily each time.
He would have a praise and degradation kink, he's not a whore. He's YOUR whore. He likes being YOURS.
#文字化化#homicipher#homicipher headcanons#headcanon#my headcanons#mozibake#mojibake#horror games#horror vn#visual novel#mr crawling#mr chopped#mr chopped head#silvair#mr silvair#mr gap#mr machete#mr scarletella#mr hood
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Found this while going through my fanfic files, and i absolutely had to share.
Danny: i want in
Red robin: …what?
Danny: your bat family. I want in.
Red robin, blinking in surprise: i dont know what you think you know about my associates, but we're not-
Danny: dont be obtuse. I know youre the smart one. And i also know that your all one big relatively happy family. I want in.
Red robin: …why?
Danny: because you guys are the first people ive found that are wealthy, intelligent and powerful enough to take on my fruitloop godfather and win AND are decent enough human beings that i can be assured that when all is said and done, my well-being will remain a top priority.
Orphan, appearing out of nowhere: new brother!
Danny: *stares in shock*
Danny: *sudden uncanny grin* well that's one convinced. How do i win over the rest?
Orphan: no need. New brother!
Red robin: *pointed glance of betrayal* fine. Who is your godfather?
Danny: vlad masters. He's a fruitloop.
Red robin: for real? B's been investigating him for years! Tell me everything! *genuinely excited for a new lead*
Danny: well, he's tried to murder my dad and marry my mom, gained his wealth illegally, committed voting fraud to become the mayor of my hometown, has a secret underground lab where he does unethical experiments, and he's abducted me more than a dozen times even before my parents disowned me to make me his evil apprentice or whatever. Now that im homeless, he's literally out to get me. Oh! And he's cloned me too! She's cool though, we're buddies now.
Batman, who just arrived but heard everything over comms: hn. (Translation: who are you?)
Danny: my name is Danny. No last name anymore, but im hoping itll soon be Wayne! *winking suggestively*
Batman: hn? (how much do you know?)
Danny: enough to know that youre a much better alternative to vlad.
Batman: …hn (i dont know anything about you. What if youre a spy for vlad?)
Danny, giving his salesman pitch: i was a teen vigilante in amity park before i had to run away from home for my own safety. Vlad is one of my rogues. I know how to fight and defend myself, how to minimize collateral damage in a fight, and ive gotten really good and escaping kidnapping attempts. Ive also managed to reform and/or make allies out of approximately half of my rogues and can talk down about 30% of all rogue confrontations before they turn into a messy fight. The other things i can bring to the table are: one, i can teach all of you guys proper liminality self care; two, i can probably minimize and possibly cure red hood's anger issues; three, i can get along with stabby robin because i consider fighting a friendly social interaction - he can even stab me and i wont be injured by it; four, i can be your go-to guy for supernatural cases so you no longer have to deal with that sad trenchcoat man; five-
Red robin: *blurting* youre hired.
Batman: hn (i am deeply concerned)
Danny: if youre concerned now, wait until i tell you about the anti ecto control act
Nightwing, who showed up in the middle of the sales pitch: ive never seen anyone crack B's grunt language so quickly
Danny: grunt language? He's just using ghost speak - which will be covered by the liminality self care lessons
Robin, who arrived with batman: what is a liminal?
Danny: all of you, of course! Otherwise you wouldnt need to learn about it, obviously
Robin: and why would we trust you?
Danny: did i mention i have a pet ghost dog?
Robin: …you drive a hard bargain
Danny, fist pumping: yes! That's three!
Nightwing: four, you got me when you could understand B's grunting
Red Hood, arrived with nightwing: five, assuming you arent lying about the pit rage
Danny, hand to his chest: i would never!
Orphan: honesty. Earnest. New brother.
Oracle, over comms: six. The anti ecto acts are legit and im terrified for his safety, assuming he's phantom, who is the vigilante of amity park
Spoiler, arrived with orphan: seven, as long as youre down for a few pranks
Batman: hn (ive been outvoted)
Batman: hnn (i dont wanna hear any jokes about adoption habits when you all forced my hand)
Batman: hn (that said)
Batman: welcome to the family
Duke, the next day: man, i miss out on everything exciting.
Duke, blinded by danny: and who the fuck told bruce he could adopt the fucking sun?!
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Cuddling
Squid game x reader hcs
Summary: How the people in squid games would cuddle you (separate)
Includes: Thanos, In-ho, Se-mi, Dae-ho, Myung-gi, Jun-ho, Hyun-ju, Mi-na (non!squid game au)
Warnings: might be slightly suggestive at some points.
masterlist
a/n: I love writing these so much! I hope you guys enjoy them as much as I do!!
Thanos
Get ready to be crushed
Lays on-top of you
And does not let you get up for anything
“Let me get up for a second I-“
“No.”
While laying on-top of you he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck or chest
If you do end up getting up he whines until you lay back down
Type of Bf to use your butt or thighs as a pillow 😔✊
Randomly bites you
Has cute aggression 100%
Very deep sleeper
Moves so much in his sleep so if you guys fall asleep cuddling at least one of you is gonna be upside down when you wake up
Will give you pda anytime anywhere he does not care
I’m literally Dr. Seuss
In-ho
Not very big on cuddling
He tolerates it for you tho 😚
Even tho cuddling isn’t really his thing he LOVES when you sit on his lap
Especially when you’re facing him
Also likes when you lay on his chest
Literally just lets you cling to him and do whatever
Acts like he doesn’t care for it but we all know the truth
When he’s tired he just completely lets his guard down
That will probably be the only time he initiates cuddling
Other wise you’re kinda on your own 
Se-mi
Loves laying on your chest !!
Gives you neck kisses when she’s the big spoon 😏
Also a biter
Likes to have you on her lap
Touches your tummy while cuddling
you cannot stop her 😡
Clingiest Gf you can have !!
Takes every opportunity to hug you from behind and just stays like that for as long as possible
When you lay on her chest she likes to play with your hair
Another deep sleeper
Girl will not wake up for anything
If you are in bed with her you better be ready to never leave the bed again once she gets her hands on you
“Babe I need to get up”
“Five more minutessss”
Dae-ho
Most cuddly person ever
Big spoon !!
not so secretly likes being small spoon sometimes
Either rests his head on-top of yours or in your neck
If you guys fall asleep like that expect not to be getting up at all
Literally has a death grip on you
Lays his head on your thighs or chest pt.2
Will fall asleep immediately if you start playing with his hair 🙁
HATES sleeping without you
The lightest sleeper ever
If you softly shake him awake he will either have a dramatic mom reaction or he’ll just be confused asf
My babbyyyyyy
Myung-gi
Struggles to sleep if you aren’t next to him
Religiously the big spoon
He likes to put his hands up your shirt while cuddling and his excuse is
“My hands were cold 🙁”
“Damn right they are 😡”
Yaaaa we all know his real intentions ✊
Neck kisses pt.2 !!
Another one that uses your thighs as a pillow
Moves a lot in his sleep as well but stays holding you the whole time somehow
Loves you being on his lap pt.2
The type to rub your thighs while watching a movie or some sht😭😔🙁😭😡😔😔😡
I want him so bad
Gives you so much kisses !!
I need someone like him omg 😔
Jun-ho
Loves cuddling face to face if that makes sense 😭
Likes to hear about your day while just holding you
Listens intently and plays with your hair as you speak
He also enjoys when you lay on his chest
The weight of your body calms him down and he feels better knowing you’re safe in his arms
If he’s feeling extra vulnerable that day he’ll lay his head on your chest
Probably gets super exhausted after work sometimes so he just falls asleep the second he gets home
and when you join him in bed he immediately wraps his arms around you
Overall I don’t think he’d be to big on cuddling but he also wouldn’t mind
Hyun-ju
She’s just a big teddy bear
Especially when you’re alone with her
She isn’t too big on pda so in public she probably just sticks to holding your hand
But in private you’re getting cuddles, kisses, you name it
There will be a lot of giggling going around
Loves if you braid or play with her hair while cuddling
Lets you try out new hairstyles on her to see which one looks the prettiest 🤭
Loves when you lay on-top of her
When the both of you go to bed she HAS to be touching you
No matter if it’s holding hands or being straight up on top of eachother
Poor girl just needs you 😔
Mi-na
I feel like she wouldn’t really care for being touchy with anyone but if it’s her s/o
Sign her up !!
Definitely small spoon
She wants to be treated like a princess 😋
Puts her legs over your lap and just pouts at you till you rub them
If she’s feeling a little frisky she’ll get you to put your head on her chest and then just cling onto you
Loves giving you kisses !!
ugh I want her
Cannot fall asleep if you aren’t in bed with her
a/n: hii! I hope you guys enjoyed thissss! (If you’ve made requests it might take awhile for me to get to them I’ve been busy lately I hope you understand!) (reqs are currently closed)
#dae ho x reader#thanos x reader#se-mi x reader#squid game x reader#dae-ho x reader#squid game#choi su bong x reader#choi su bong#se mi#semi x reader#se mi x reader#junho x reader#jun ho x reader#lee myung gi x reader#myung gi x reader#myung gi#lee myung gi#daeho x reader#kang daeho#daeho#kang dae ho x reader#cho hyunju#hyunju x reader#hyun ju x reader#kang mi-na x reader#mi-na x reader#in ho x reader#in ho#hwang in ho#inho x reader
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When jjk characters call you ‘clingy’
Feat. crybaby-ish!reader
Gojo, geto, toji
Cw: hurt, guilt, angst (if you squint)
This is inspiration from a mini series i read a few days ago by user @fumekara. It was so good, I love me some angst to hurt/comfort.
But i also wrote this from personal experience too, my bad yall i treat this like my own personal diary
Anyway, enjoy!
Satoru Gojo
He was pissed. He doesn’t typically show it much, but when he does, he gets kind of scary. He’s more quiet, his voice gets deeper, and his whole body language just shifts. So when the higher-ups piss him off after a very long meeting, the last thing he needs is someone to pounce on him. He usually loves it when you greet him at the door when you’re home for work. But today, he just wanted to strip off his clothes and hop into bed.
Gojo huffs as he leaves the elevator of your shared apartment and grabs his keys from his pocket to unlock the door. As he opens the door, he sees you in the kitchen grabbing ingredients for dinner. “Hi baby,” You softly greeted him. “Hey.” was all he said back. It confused you for a second because he’s never greeted you like that before.
“Is everything okay?” You walk up to him to try to kiss him on his cheek. “God- Y/n, please.” He grumbled, walking right past you and placing his briefcase on the table. “I’m just trying to help,” you defended, walking up to take his coat off for him. “At least let me take your coat-” That’s when he snapped. Something he’s never done to you before. “Y/n, I fuckin’ got it! Geez, you’re so fucking clingy!” He aggressively shrugged your hands off his shoulder. It scared you a bit, to see him so angry at you. You were confused, all you wanted to do was make him feel better. Were you really that clingy?
“I-I’m sorry.” your voice came out shaky and defeated. Hearing how small your voice sounded in response to him lashing out made Satoru’s heart shatter into thousands of pieces. He wanted to turn around and apologize, but the words weren’t coming out. By the time he turned to face you, Your back was already facing him, preparing dinner for the both of you as tears rolled down your face.
Suguru Geto
It was 2 weeks after Suguru deflected. 2 weeks since he committed mass murder in that village. 2 weeks since he left Satoru, Shoko, and the others. It was weighing on him and you could tell. Nothing but him, his two adopted girls, a few people who believed in his cause, and you.
You promised him you would go wherever he would go, and he was so grateful for it. He loves you deeply and would do anything for you. But some days just threw everything on him at one time, today was one of those days. Monkeys non-sorcerers begging him to exercise curses left and right, Nanako and Mimiko begging him to take them shopping, missing payments from those begging for his service. It was all too much. And the guilt was eating away at him.
He genuinely wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying and it annoyed him how much talking you were doing in his ear at that moment. You were both sitting outside watching the two girls play in the yard. “Y/n,” He interrupted you. “Don’t you have something better to do than to just bother me?” He sighed sounding so condescending. “What do you mean?”
“Must you always cling to me? Isn’t there something else you can do besides following me everywhere I go, at all times of the day?!” His voice raised a bit as if he was talking to a non-sorcerer. “I didn’t realize I was. I was only trying to tell you about what me and the girls did today,” You defended. “You’re always so busy, I rarely get to see you anymore.”
“Yeah, because you’re always underneath me. Sometimes-” He stopped mid-sentence because of the saddened look on your face. His eyes softened a bit. “Sometimes I just need my space.” He sighed. You only nodded and started to walk back inside. “Ok, I understand.” Your voice cracked. Leaving Suguru alone to think about what he had just said to you. As if he didn’t feel guilt then, he definitely feels guilt now.
Toji Fushiguro
Toji was a bit frustrated today. He was cheated out of his money after doing a side job, the bet he placed on the race he kept constantly telling you about fell through, leaving him with zero, and to top it all off, the child support payment was coming up. You being an empath and knowing your boyfriend so well, you wanted to help him any way you could.
He was sitting in the chair by the island in the kitchen with his fingers combing through his hair. He was on the phone with multiple people at once, trying to solve his money issues. “Shiu, you guaranteed me way more money than this! How am I supposed to cover this months child support with this amount?!” You walked up to where he was, wondering what all the commotion was about. “Baby?” You softly called out. You could hear Shiu on the other line trying to calm him down and explain the situation.
“That sounds like a bunch of bull and you know it Shiu, you better have my money by next week thursday or else I’m taking it myself.” He grumbled and hung up the phone. “Baby,” You gently placed a hand on his broad shoulder.
“What, Y/n.” He sternly said. You merely blinked a few times. “I was just checking to see if you were okay. What’s with the attitude?”
“I’m fuckin’ frustrated okay? Please leave. You aren’t helping right now.” He waved you off.
“I barely did anything, I just wanted to know if you needed help with anything-”
“Jesus, I said enough! I don’t need your help. Fuck, you’re so clingy.” His voice booming caused you to remove your hand from his shoulder in fear. Seeing your reaction caused him to think about what he said and how he said it. The last think he wanted to do was scare you. He wanted you to feel safe around him. But with the way you jumped at how he raised his voice, it saddened him a bit.
“Y/n, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” He was cut off by the sound of his child wailing in the background. “I’ll take care of it.” You said in the smallest voice, not even leaving him time to protest against it and apologize.
“Fuck.”
Part 2
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Imagine accidenatlly calling the twist characters an endearment (ex, darling dear, my everything, baby, honey, etc.) because your too sleep deprived to notice it, but they did! How’d they react?
This is now for dorm leaders~
First years are here
Malleus would start planning marriage~ The words would have a deep meaning and Malleus would not believe that you would say such things if there was no truth in them... Poor dragon loves you a lot and only wants you as his own. You don't need to know about his plans yet. Malleus knows how to be patient when he wants to.
Azul would try his best not to show how much your simple words affect him. His success would be somewhat doubtful. Azul would blush but try to cover it up. Another boy who never got enough love. Azul would like to hear this more often... Maybe he should make a deal for that :3
^ I writed this one after Riddle lol. That's why I said "another".
Leona wouldn't pay much attention to this. He knows you only said that because you were too tired. His plan was to go back to sleep after this. However, he can't sleep. Leona has a warm feeling in his chest and can only think about that moment.
Riddle would turn completely red at your words. He would be a bit shocked how you could say something like that so lightly. This boy hasn't gotten enough love. He'd be a little disappointed when he realized you didn't really mean those words... but maybe sometimes you do.
Kalim would smile and say something nice back to you. He's already in a good mood but this makes his day better~ However, Kalim would also be worried. Why can't you sleep? If you need help, he would be happy to help. You can just come to Sacrabia dormitory and you don't have to worry about anything.
Vil would say something sweet to you back~ Probably a potato-related compliment. Now, however, he would be worried about how little you slept. This would not be a good thing. You get a lecture about how sleep is important for skin care, etc. He just doesn't want you saying things like that to someone else.
Idia would die of a sudden nosebleed. He'd be lucky you weren't there to see this. However, you might wonder why he leaved voice chat so quickly. It would take Idia a long time to gather herself and her thoughts. After that, he would come back as if nothing had happened and wish you would say those words again sometime.
#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twst x you#twisted wonderland x you#Malleus Draconia#malleus draconia x reader#vil schoenheit#vil schoenheit x reader#leona kingscholar#leona kingsholar x reader#azul ashengrotto#azul ashengrotto x reader#kalim al asim#kalim al asim x reader#idia shroud#idia shroud x reader#riddle rosehearts#Riddle Rosehearths x reader
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𝐁𝐅𝐅! 𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈 | your best friend wants to know what kissing feels like MDNI
warnings: heated make out, perverted thoughts, dry humping
Your best friend's lips were wet with spit and delightfully pink when he asked you if you've ever kissed before. You shake your head, confirming that you haven't, and if it weren't for the fact Yuji was your best friend you would have been embarrassed admitting that. But he was, so you weren't. You knew that he also had never kissed someone. Neither of you had ever dated anybody - always too involved in your own little bubble together. Attached at the hip.
"How come you're asking?" you question him, your eyes locking with his. He dodged the question, stuttering out nonsense as his cheeks turned the color of his hair.
"N-no reason," he blushed, and you nodded slowly - taking in how nervous your friend became.
It didn't take a whole lot of prying - it never did with Yuji. It wasn't unlike him to bring up something silly before trying to dismiss the fact he ever said it - like the time he asked your bra size. You looked up at him in shock, the skittle you were biting down on caught in your throat, causing you to choke. After recovering you gasped out, "Sorry. my what?" you asked him to clarify and his cheeks turned their signature rosy hue.
"I'm sorry... I don't know why I asked that," he stammered, pulling his his hoodie over his face and tightening the draw strings. It didn't take long for him to admit that he was just curious - and that he was sorry for how perverted it sounded. You patted his back, telling him it was just unexpected before giving him the answer to his question. You almost didn't notice how his lips formed an "o", silently picturing your response in his mind.
This day was just like any other for you two, honestly. "You've been thinking about kissing, Yuji?" you ask him nonchalantly. You found it always went down better if you acted like it was no big deal.
"I guess," he mumbled, trying to busy himself with the weather app on his phone.
"Did someone try to kiss you?" you kept prying, slowly but surely getting to the root of his question.
"No!" he all but shouted and your eyes narrowed.
"Then what's up?" again, your tone was nonchalant while he was anything but. He fidgeted under your gaze, knees bouncing with anxiety while he bit down on his bottom lip.
"I guess I was just wondering what it feels like... I don't know," he says dismissively, shaking his head before putting it in his hands; effectively avoiding your gaze. "I thought you would maybe know," he tells you, his words muffled by his large palms.
"Oh sorry, I don't," you tell him, going back on your phone in silence. When he hears a video play, he takes his head from his hands, looking up at you as you giggled at your screen, already deciding to forget about what he asked. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see Yuji frowning at you - like he still has something he wants to say. You use your foot to poke his leg, leaning further back onto the end of your couch. "Spit it out Yuj," you tell him, not bothering to look up from your phone.
"Do you ever wonder what it feels like?" he asks you, his typical playful tone now painfully timid. Your eyebrows quirk, looking back up to him and noticing how nervous he looks.
"I guess sometimes," you say, biting your lip while you waited for him to continue.
"D-Did you maybe want to... I don't know...," he rambles, lifting his hand up to cover his face again. You patiently wait for him to recover himself. "You can say no," he begins, hands noticeably shaky. You sit up abruptly upon noticing his hands quiver - scooching over to be closer to him. He looks up, a little shocked seeing you so close to him and his throat bobs from swallowing harshly. "Do you maybe want to kiss me? Just to know what it feels like," he spits out, saying it so fast you could hardly catch his question but you do. Your lips part in surprise.
Was it a bit of an odd suggestion from your best friend? Sure, yeah. But was Yuji an odd guy? Absolutely. Your best friend was a fanatic for all things weird - you had known this your whole life. Hell, you sat right next to him while he watched his obscure, gory horror movies that made your stomach church. All though he assured you that you didn't have to watch them with him, Yuji was your best friend. Anything he was interested - anything that he wanted to do, you were down. So was it odd to kiss your best friend? Most would say yes. But Yuji and you weren't most people, that's why you two were so good together. You 'matched each other's freak', for lack of a better term.
Despite the fact neither of you had kissed anyone, the two of you got the hang of it fairly quickly. It started with a few pecks; you leaned even closer to your best friend, eyes watching as his lips twitched in anticipation. "Let me know if you want me to stop, Yuj," you told him before closing the gap between you two. His lips were soft against yours and smooth as butter. You planted a few light kisses, pulling away to check in with him. His face was flushed and you looked just a few inches down to see how strong his hand gripped the couch's arm behind him, causing his muscles to flex - showing off his toned forearm and bicep he earned from his years of hard work in the various sports he played. "Was that ok?" you inquire, ghosting over his lips. He nodded desperately, adjusting himself to fully face you before dragging you onto his lap and smashing his lips into yours.
You didn't have time to be taken aback, too distracted with abrupt change in pace as his lips smushed against yours. He groaned, snaking his hands around your back and pulling you flush against him, deepening the kiss. He could feel your squishy breasts push against his hard chest and his head began to spin. Your scent was permeating in his space, clogging his senses. He was entranced by the foreign feeling of another mouth on his, causing him to not think clearly. At least that's what he told himself as his lips moved against yours. He wasn't himself. That's why he was so desperate. That's why his tongue licked along the seam of your mouth, silently asking you to part your lips so he could slip it in.
That's why when you opened up for him he couldn't help bucking his hips up into you. He had to fight back an embarrassed whine from the realization he was humping his best friend - all because she let him explore her mouth. You sat on his lap patiently though, allowing Yuji to use your unsuspecting lips to know what it feels like to kiss.
His hands rose from your hips, sliding up to feel more of your body as he kept unknowingly thrusting himself up against you - too lost from the feeling of your tongue wrestling his. Even his tongue was stronger than you - you were unable to fight for control over your own mouth as his unskilled tongue explored yours. His hands stopped just below your breast, using his thumbs to subtly massage the underside of your tits. You were completely pliant under his grasp, allowing your friend to explore and hump you while you took what he gave you. It was completely new to you - what he was doing with his body to yours - but you'd be a liar if you told him you wanted him to stop. It was overwhelming and confusing but you would be the last person to put an end to what was happening. You both were young adults and embarrassingly inexperienced. Even though the awkwardness between you two for the rest of the day would be palpable; you two were too excited to finally get in on what every one else your age had already long since experienced. It didn't hurt you both found each other attractive...
The longer you found your tongue tangled up with his - the more handsy Yuji got. He wasn't only experiencing his first kiss - but many firsts. Like his first time touching a woman's breasts; feeling the weight of yours heavy in his hands as he kneaded and squished the supple skin. Since you two were just relaxing at home you didn't bother to wear a bra - something Yuji was grateful for as he reached under your shirt, his thumbs grazing your hardened nipples. He experienced making a woman moan for the first time - his attentive hands on your sensitive chest coupled with the feeling of his hard on barely confined under his loose sweatpants brushing against your center caused you to whimper - a sound Yuji could never forget even if he tried.
Your lips finally detached at the sound of your muffled moan - spit trailing from both of your mouths as you two pulled back. Both of you were out of breath, still holding onto one another while you struggled to fill your lungs up with air. "We should probably stop there," you suggested, all though the tone you used suggested otherwise.
"Yeah, probably," Yuji says unconvinced, his covered length beneath you twitches while you two only watch each other - eager to see what the other's next move might be. His hands are still on your chest - just beneath the underside of your breast and he fights to keep his hands from squeezing you one last time.
"Okay," you say, still perched in his lap.
"Okay," he responds, still holding your breasts.
You can only watch him as he watches you - both fighting against the realization that what was happening needed to come to an end. "How about just one more kiss?" he suggests and you nod, moving in to peck his lips; taking your time before pulling back to face him again.
"One more," you find yourself saying, again kissing him before pulling away. You both stare at each other - faces painted with pain trying to fight against what you both wanted but shouldn't be doing.
"We don't have to stop...." Yuji finally suggests, eyebrows scrunching nervously waiting for your response.
"Yeah... that works..." is all you say.
should i make a part 2? idk if i liked this....
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk smut#yuji itadori headcanons#yuji headcanons#itadori yuji#yuji x reader#yuji itadori#yuji x you#yuji x y/n#yuuji itadori#itadori yuuji#jujutsu itadori#jjk yuji itadori#yuji itadori x reader#yuji itadori x you#yuji itadori x y/n#itadori x reader#itadori x you#itadori x y/n#itadori x female reader#yuji x female reader#jjk yuuji#yuuji#yuuji x reader#jjk itadori#itadori#yuuji x you
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That’s My Girl
Summary: Bradley has been looking after you for longer than he can remember. You’ve always been his favorite person. So when some guy makes an unwelcomed move on you, that last thing he’s going to do is just sit back and watch it happen.
Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader
Length: 6.7K
Warning: language, male chauvinism, allusions to smut, some angst with a happy ending
(author's note: this is a fic is set in the 'Like I Can' universe, however it can be read on it's own!
In hindsight, Bradley should have known how rowdy the crowd at the Hard Deck was going to be tonight.
Sailors fresh off a several months long deployment were always a boisterous bunch. But Sailors fresh from a deployment during San Diego Fleet Week were a different thing entirely.
The bar is packed and humid, even with the doors and windows opened for the Pacific breeze. Penny’s old air conditioning unit might be on its last legs because Bradley’s shirt is sticking to the skin of his back. He’d nearly lost his mind when he’d seen that bead of sweat work its way down your neck and between your breasts when you’d pressed a kiss to his cheek and told him you were getting a refill and asked if he wanted anything.
Bradley really hoped you’d be up for leaving soon. He wouldn’t mind taking a dip in the pool at your apartment. Or better yet, getting you to join him for a cool shower.
It wasn’t the just the deep v of your tank top- or those sweet little embroidered flowers along the edges of it- that hand his fingers twitching to touch you. Although he liked those too.
It was that damn bow.
When Bradley had picked you up from your apartment earlier this evening and seen you wearing that, he’d given you a wolf whistle so loud it had caused your neighbor’s dog to start barking.
He’d taken advantage of your surprised laugh to back you up against your front door to get his mouth along the column of your neck. He’s always been a big picture kind of guy. And he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he was tugging open that bow between your breasts with his teeth.
You’d all but sighed his name as your fingers tangled in his hair.
Bradley.
And just as he’d reached your collarbone, you’d pulled him back up to your mouth like you were going to kiss him and murmured Later against his lips before slipping past him, like the menace that you are, leaving him to chase after the trail of your perfume.
You knew what you were doing, that was for damn sure. He’s always been a sucker for a bow. And for you.
Bradley had more than appreciated the extra sway you’d put in your hips just for him as you walked down your hallway towards the elevator. He’d grinned to himself as he set off after you, because at the end of the night, his girlfriend would be coming home with him.
Earlier in the evening, Coyote had been fast to claim the cluster of tables that some Butterbars had left to close out their tabs, most likely onto their way to the next stop of many for the night. It was lucky timing, because there’d been a nonstop steady stream of people making their way into the unofficial designated Naval watering hole for Fleet Week. There was a mix of civilians, Naval regulars who are stationed at North Island, and the visiting Sailors dressed in their uniforms on liberty. Bradley wasn’t sure how many more bodies could be packed in until some of the worn wooden shingles of the bar started popping off.
The lively and loud atmosphere of Fleet Week was something that Bradley had typically enjoyed in the past. He liked seeing people cut loose and laugh as they swapped stories with their friends and families. And he’d been happy to do his part to add to the good times, having been pulled to the piano twice already.
Over the years he’d built up a curated collection crowd-pleasers for occasions just like this. Part peacocking, part coping. While he’s never been the type to shy away from being the center of attention, he’d also found it was easier to breathe in the spotlight. Because with everyone’s eyes on him, it was impossible to feel alone.
So much has changed for him since getting permanently stationed in San Diego. And all for the better. That loneliness was a thing of the past, because now when he played, he was surrounded by all of his favorite people
But Bradley still ends his impromptu sets the same way he always has, with Jerry Lee Lewis. Only now he gets to sing it directly to the girl who’d given him the sheet music to the song in the first place.
The same one, he’s realized, who hasn’t returned back from getting her refill yet.
Bradley takes a quick glance around the corner of the bar they’d laid claim too. Bob, Fanboy, and Payback were lounging against the side of the pool table chatting up some of the visiting Sailors, since there wasn’t enough room to actually play a round without taking someone out with one of the cues. Coyote was leaning over the jukebox flipping through the albums with a pretty civilian who was out with her friends that he’d met and was clearly trying to impress. And Jake and Nat were seated with him at one of the tall round tables taking about the new Top Gun students, where your chair next to him was still empty.
Everyone was accounted for, except you.
There are so many people packed around the edges of the bar that it takes him a moment to find you. He thought maybe you’d been held up by Penny or Jimmy or some other familiar face, but he doesn’t recognize the man who standing way too close to you. But the firm press of your lips tells him everything he needs to know.
He sees the next moment playout as if it’s in slow motion. Watching as you attempt to take a step back, only for the guy to wrap his hand around your wrist to keep you from moving away. Bradley sees you glance down at that hand on you, and back up at the stranger. He knows that look in your eyes as you shake out of his grip. You aren’t just annoyed, you’re pissed.
Bradley slams his beer down and shoves his stool back.
He hears Jake curse behind him, “Oh, shit.”
Chair legs screech against the wooden floor as his friends hustle to follow after him, but he doesn’t wait for them to catch up.
There’s a trail of spilled cocktails and beers in his wake as he unapologetically weaves through the tightly crammed bodies that separate him from you. If anyone has an issue with him later, they can put a refill on his tab. But right now, his only goal is getting to you.
He doesn’t slow for a second. He just struts right up and steps in between you and the other man.
“Do we have an issue here?” he rasps, folding his arms over his chest.
Bradley takes the guy in with a hard glower. The name tape on his uniform reads Wilson. A LTJG, based on his shoulder boards, from one of the visiting ships. The man is big, but Bradley is bigger. And he outranks him. The guy might not know it yet, but it was just another thing he was planning on making crystal clear.
You put a hand on his tense shoulder. “Everything is fine.”
“It sure as shit doesn’t seem fine.” He doesn’t take his glare off of Wilson. “I think it’s time for you to go now.” He jerks his chin towards the front door.
“We’re just having a friendly conversation,” the other man drawls, sending him a wink. The implied innuendo makes Bradley’s jaw clench. There wasn’t anything “friendly” about the way he’d been using his size to keep you trapped at the bar.
The guy is trashed. There’s a blankness behind his eyes that Bradley doesn’t like the look of. He must have pre-gamed before going out because Penny and Jimmy weren’t ones to overserve.
“No, what you’re doing is paying your tab and leaving this bar.” It’s an order.
“Bradley.” You say his name like a warning. “I’m handling it.”
You pull on his shoulder, but he shrugs you off.
“No, kid, I’m handling it for you.” This asshole was Bradley’s problem to deal with now. He’d tapped in the moment he’d seen the man touch you.
“I see.” Wilson’s gaze bounces back and forth between the two of you, an oily grin appears on his face. “You’ve already got someone for tonight lined up. Damn, you didn’t waste any time did you, sweet thing?”
Anger flares hot and bright in his stomach.
“You better watch your mouth,” Bradley spits, pointing a threatening finger.
The bar around him blurs around the edges, but the man in front of him only gets sharper in focus.
You step around him and tug on his arm. From the corner of his eye, he can see you shaking your head at him. “Bradley, stop. I told you, I’ve got it.” Your voice is clipped, tight. “Let me take care of it.”
He knows you want for him to let it go. To back off. And he’s about to- for you- because you want him to. But then he sees the guy’s eyes drop down to the exposed skin of your chest- to that bow between your breasts- and smirks.
It’s a look so filthy that even Bradley feels dirty. He operates out of instinct. Stretching his arm in front of you, he purposefully pushes you back behind him to where he knows Seresin is standing close by, trusting that his friend will move you out of the way.
“A barrack bunny like you must know her way around. I don’t mind another man’s sloppy-”
For a moment, Bradley isn’t at the Hard Deck anymore. He’s standing in Jason Cameron’s kitchen, where the smell of weed and cheap alcohol and Axe hung heavy in the air.
Bradley’s fist flies on its own.
He barely registers the moment his knuckles connect with the other man’s jaw. He doesn’t see the man stumble backwards into the table behind him. He doesn’t hear the surprised gasps or the sound of glass breaking or the thud as the man hits the floor. There’s only the color red and the sound of his own ragged breathing.
When he shakes off the memory and returns back to his body, he’s almost surprised to see the broken bottles on the floor and not shards from a sliding glass door.
The next few minutes are a flurry of chaos as Wilson’s friends come and scoop him off the floor to make their exit. From the looks of irritation on their faces, it seems like this might be an all too frequent occurrence. He makes a mental note to try and look up the man’s supervising officer. And if he can’t find them on his own, he’ll ask Mav to help.
He can feel dozens of eyes on him, but he can’t bring himself to care.
Bradley takes a moment to apologize to Penny. He avoids looking directly in her eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment he’s sure is there. The adrenaline is still coursing and sparking through his body. He needs a moment to work off his anger and get his head back on straight before he comes to check on you. But he knows you’re in good hands with his friends.
Without being asked, he rights the table and stools on his way to the supply closet to grab a broom and dustpan. He takes his time meticulously picking up the bits of broken glass off the ground before he sweeps the rest of it up as he waits for his heartrate to settle back down.
When he’s done, he spots Nat and Jake sitting at the bar top and heads towards them. But for the second time tonight, you’re not where you should be.
“That was some left hook, Bradshaw,” Nat says, pinning him with a flat look over the top of her drink.
He ignores the comment. “Have either of you seen my girlfriend?”
Jake lifts his hand up at about your height. “About this tall? Great smile? Dating a man that’s clearly punching?” He chuckles to himself. “No pun intended.” Those dimples of his are more grating than usual.
Bradley’s hand flexes in irritation. His quick fuse is on its way to being lit again.
“Seresin,” he barks, low on patience, “Where’d she go?”
The other man lets out a low whistle and shares a look with Nat. “She left out the side patio door like ten minutes ago. Looked like she was about to spit nails too.”
“Goddammit,” he mumbles under his breath. He turns to Phoenix. “Did she really look that pissed?”
She shrugs. “I’m surprised she didn’t punch you, I probably would have.”
Bradley’s mouth drops open. “For what? For defending her?”
All he did tonight was stand up for you when someone crossed a line and tried to get physical with you. He wasn’t ashamed for doing it, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.
“But did she want you to do that?” she asks, deliberately.
He doesn’t understand why Nat is giving him a hard time about this.
“That’s my girl and that guy wasn’t listening.”
Nat lifts a pointed eyebrow at him, “Sounds familiar.”
Bradley forces out a breath. “That was different and you know it.”
“All I’m saying is I think she was making herself pretty clear, but you chose not to hear her and did what you wanted anyways.” His teeth clench together as a rock lands hard in his stomach. “And from the sound of it, she wanted to handle it her own way.”
“Yeah, but…” You’re his, he wants to say, but holds back at the risk of sounding like the jealous boyfriend Nat thinks he’s being. Except he wasn’t being jealous, he just wanted to protect you.
“No buts, Rooster. You fucked up.”
Nat has always been a straightshooter. It was one of the things he’s always appreciated most about her, that and her keen ability to read people. He trusted her judgement. And if she feels this way, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with it, then the chances are very high that you do too.
“Shit.”
“Yeah, ‘shit’. Now go fix it.” She pats his shoulder once, and then gives him a shove to the side door they’d seen you leave from.
It’s cooler outside.
The ocean breeze feels good on his hot, sticky skin. Bradley feels like he can breathe a little easier without all those people milling around him.
You’re not hard to spot. To anyone else you’d a solidary figure facing the ocean, but he’d know the shape of you anywhere.
From what Seresin said, Bradley had figured you’d be half way down the beach. He’d been planning just to follow the trail of steam to find you. But you’re still as a statue with your arms wrapped around yourself as you stare out at the inky waves.
The noise from the bar is muffled inside the walls of the Hard Deck, but still slips out from the windows that are cracked open and follows him as he walks towards you. The sand shifts beneath his shoes with every step he takes. The tunes from Penny’s jukebox get carried away on the wind and are replaced with the gentle roar of the waves as he approaches you.
The days are getting longer and dusk is rolling in. The sun is hanging low in the sky. Not quite set, but well on its way. He’d love nothing more than to pull you into his lap in one of the Adirondack chairs to watch the last glimmering moments of golden hour with you in his arms. But knows that’s probably not in the cards for tonight.
The two of you have had fights before. Usually over stupid, inconsequential things. Arguing with you feels different now than when it did when you were just friends. Now that you’re his girlfriend, it feels like there’s more at stake. He knew he’d never forgive himself if he fumbled the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
Bradley wants to skip over this part to where the two of you are back on the same page. He wants to skip to the part where he gets to see your dimples and hear you laugh.
He stops just a few feet behind you. He knows you know he’s there, in that uncanny way you’ve always been able to sense him. The minutes tick by as he stands there and waits for you to acknowledge him. Or to turn around and shoot him that withering glare of yours. He’d take anything other than your silence.
But you don’t.
You give him nothing, which is almost worse.
It feels like a standoff.
He folds first.
“Sweet girl,” Bradley says, with a resigned sigh.
He doesn’t miss the way your whole body tenses at the sound of his voice.
“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Rooster.”
The way you say his callsign lands like a punch in the gut.
You’re only standing a few feet away from him, but it feels like the two of you are miles apart.
“C’mon, kid, that asshole is gone now. Come back inside.”
“Seriously?” you laugh bitterly, still refusing to look at him. “You’re seriously going to ignore me right now too? I said I don’t want to talk right now.”
He feels his jaw tick. “Look, I’m sorry,” he starts, still not feeling sorry in the least, “But-”
You put a hand up and whirl on him, shaking your head in disbelief. The thunderous look on your face would have a lesser man taking a step back, instead Bradley steels his spine and digs his feet into the sand.
“I really don’t want to hear it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this mad at you,” you fume. “Not even in high school when you got in that stupid fucking fight at that Homecoming party when I had to take you to the hospital.”
He presses his lips together firmly. There was a time and place for a conversation about that night, the one where he’d earned the scars on his face, but it wasn’t here and now. It was a secret he’d kept to himself for nearly two decades, the only other person who’d known the full story was his mom. But telling you about it now would only make things worse.
You continue, like a freight train without brakes, “And you’d been drunk then. Not that that excuses anything. But you’ve had, what? Two beers tonight?” When you lift your eyebrows at him expectantly, he nods curtly in confirmation. “So tell me what the hell just happened in there?”
He swears that sharp flash of your eyes could cut glass. A lick of heat bursts behind his sternum. Hot and fierce.
“He wasn’t backing off,” Bradley grits out, trying to summon the patience he doesn’t have. “What was I supposed to do? Give him a pat on the back and let him keep hitting on my girlfriend?” You scoff and he feels his pulse kick up in his throat. “I have always had your back, and I will always have your back.”
Bradley doesn’t understand why you don’t seem to understand that he’d do anything for you. He’s been looking out for you since your bike handlebars had iridescent tassels streaming from them, and if he has his way he’ll be looking out for you until his number is up.
“But that’s the thing, Rooster! You didn’t have my back in there,” you argue, stepping forward so you’re toe to toe with him. Your use of his callsign again chafes against his ears like sandpaper. “All you did was manhandle me out of the way to get at him and throw fists. I mean, Mav and Hondo would have let it slide if they’d been there to see that. But what about Cyclone? Would he? Why would you put your career at risk like that? What were you even thinking?”
You’re looking at him like you don’t know him, and he hates it. Because you’re the person who knows him best.
He runs a hand through his hair in agitation. He’s been trying to tame his temper, that caged animal that paced within the confines of the ribs in his chest. But his anger and frustration has been feeding off of yours, meeting it measure for measure.
“I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking,” Bradley explodes, flinging his arms out to the side. “I’m not going to stop and make a damn pros and cons list while I watch some asshole being disrespectful and getting physical with you. It’s not going to happen, kid.”
“And I told you that I had it handled!” you exclaim.
The sound of the waves gets lost in the way both of your voices are raising with each and every parry in the verbal fencing match you’ve found yourselves in. This has escalated quicker than he ever could have expected, and all he wants is to find himself back on the same page with you.
“How am I the bad guy in all of this right now?”
“Don’t you get it? I’m not mad about you wanting you to be there for me, I’m mad about how you went about it. You literally pushed me out of the way and passed off to Jake, like my voice and feelings in that moment didn’t matter to you. Like you didn’t care about what I wanted. You have never treated me like that before.”
Guilt makes his stomach churn.
“You and I both know that’s not true,” he replies. It’s an uncomfortable truth.
That dark period after his mom died and how he’d treated you still haunted him sometimes. When he’d try to set fire to all the bridges around him, including his friendship with you. He hadn’t been worth knowing back then, but you’d never given up on him. He remembers it like it was yesterday, he’s never forgotten it. On the nights he couldn’t sleep, it was one of the many things that played out behind his eyelids like a highlight reel of all his worst moments.
Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion. He sees the moment it clicks for you because the fire that had been blazing behind those eyes he knows so well transforms into something softer. Something sadder.
“Bradley, I’m not going to hold onto something from when you were eighteen and hurting and heartbroken.” Your voice catches with emotion. “But tonight? Tonight, you made me feel small. And you’re the very last person I thought who’d ever make me feel that way.”
He can’t even enjoy hearing you say his name again, because you look so disappointed in him. The two of you stand there staring at each other, searching each other’s eyes as the waves rolling in along the shore fill the silence.
The way your lower lip wobbles steals the fight right out of him. All that righteous indignation that had been whirling in his chest is gone quicker than it came over him at the sight of the tears welling up along your lower lash line.
He’d let you down back then. And he’d let you down tonight too. He feels like he’s broken a promise to you, one he’d made with himself a longtime ago. Bradley wants to be the man whose shoulders you could lean on, the one you trusted to bet there to support you. He never thought he’d be the guy who makes you cry.
Bradley says your name tenderly. Every single letter of it is precious to him because you’re the most important person in the world to him.
The single tear that escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your face cracks his chest wide open.
He holds out his hand for you, but you half-heartedly bat it away.
“No, I’m still mad at you,” you say, feebly. It’s unconvincing at best.
“You can be mad at me, kid,” Bradley murmurs, “But just let me hold you.”
He needs to know that you’ll still let him. That you still want him.
Bradley reaches out for you again and this time you let him pull you into his chest. And when you thread your arms around his torso and hold him just as tight that knot in his stomach loosens. He rests his chin on your head and releases a sigh. With you in his arms, he feels like his feet are finally back on solid ground.
He knows he owes you an apology, a real one this time. He knows that he’s fucked up, he understands where he went wrong. But he can’t shake the feeling that he feels like he’s missing something, that there’s another reason playing into why you’re so upset.
Every one of your quiet sniffles twists the knife that’s lodged itself between his ribs just a bit more each time.
He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there wrapped up in each other, as he runs his hand up and down your back. There’s more to discuss, but he doesn��t rush you. He’ll hold you for as long as you need him to.
When you pull away, only far enough to look up at him, he takes the opportunity to gently cup your face in his hands. His thumb skims along the line of your jaw, your eyes are still watery.
“Sweet girl, why are you crying? I know you. Why does it feel like there’s more to this than just me being an idiot?” he asks, quietly. It still feels so fragile between the two of you.
“Because I l-like you so much. And I know you meant well, but I hated what happened tonight.” You wipe angrily at the fresh tears that streak down your face, like you’re irritated at them for them falling without your permission. “My ex used to pull that kind of bullshit all the time and I always hated the way it made me feel.”
His hands fall from your face.
Your confession surprises him. “Jack?” Bradley asks, his eyebrows pulling together. You nod. “I thought you said he was fine? That the break up was mutual because things got stale between the two of you.”
It’s times like this where he’s reminded of just how much distance there between the two of you over the last decade before you moved to San Diego. Of how much of you he’s missed out on. All the little moments that made up someone’s life. There was only so much an email, or a text, or a call could do.
You sigh, heavily. “I’m realizing now that there were a lot of things I put up with Jack because I didn’t want to rock the boat.”
Bradley’s fingers flex involuntarily where his hands are resting your hips. He doesn’t know what to make of that admission.
“You got to give me more than that to work with, kid. Help me to understand.”
You run you hand along his forearm soothingly, like you can sense his unease. He slides his thumbs through the loops of your jeans, fixing himself to you.
“Jack was really good about wanting to show everyone that he was a good boyfriend. And he was- for a while.” You pause, pressing your lips together. “But there were a few times where we’d go out and he’d make a scene, like what happened tonight. Except instead of someone being an actual asshole, it’d be someone who’d started up some polite small talk with me as we waited in line. And it always became a bigger thing than it needed to be. Then afterwards, he’d make it seem like he was defending my honor or something, even though he knew I didn’t like the kind of attention and all the looks that came with it afterwards. But Jack was always about Jack, and he liked the hero edit his friends would give him.”
You look away from him towards the ocean, the sunset paints you golden. Bradley knows you’re collecting your thoughts, so he waits. When you’re ready, you turn back towards him. There’s a different kind of hurt reflected in your eyes, one that tells him tonight has opened up old wounds for you.
“He’d say all the right things around other people, but when it was just the two of us alone, I never got that side of him. At the time I believed he was saying them because he meant them, but I can see now that he never really showed me that he meant them. I took his words at face value and settled for them.”
You give him a self-conscious shrug. Like you’re embarrassed. But your big heart was one of the things he loved most about you, and he hated the idea that someone had been careless with it before it made it into his safekeeping.
Bradley swallows hard. That tonight reminded you of the low points in your past relationship is hard for him to hear. And knowing why, makes it even worse.
“I think, more than anything,” you continue, your voice much quieter now, “I’m just mad that I let myself get lost in that for so long. Like I knew I needed more and that I wanted more, but I kept putting him ahead of myself when he wasn’t doing that for me.”
You thread your fingers between his and squeeze them lightly. He squeezes yours back.
“But you, Bradley, say the right things and mean them. You show me how important I am to you, with or without an audience. No one has ever made me feel as special as you do. Like, you don’t buy me red roses because you think you should-”
“Wait,” he doesn’t mean to cut you off, but his mind has snagged on a critical detail, “I thought your favorite flowers were tulips?”
A soft smile coasts over your pretty face. “They are.” He loves the warm way you’re looking at him right now, tender and fond. “And that’s what I’m talking about. You show me all the ways you know me because you care about me and want to make me happy. You don’t treat me like I’m an accessory in your life. I mean, I didn’t feel like I could even hang art on the walls of the apartment I paid half the rent for without Jack having an opinion on it. And here you are letting me bring over kitchen towels and plants for you, and we don’t even live together yet.”
Yet. Such a small word, but it means so much to know that you’re envisioning the same future with him that he sees with you.
“I like that you do that. I want you to do that. I appreciate the way you show me you’re thinking about me too.” Bradley runs his thumbs over the back of your hands. “Although, I’d rather be the one buying them,” he says, only partly teasing.
You made his house feel like a home. He hadn’t had that in so long. He wanted you to have things there in his condo that you also liked and made you happy because he wanted you to stay. He couldn’t wait for the day the two of you shared one address instead of two.
“Does that mean I should return the throw pillows I found for you?” He spots a wink of your dimples. “They’re soft, but firm enough that you won’t hurt your neck when you inevitably fall asleep on the couch even though you claim you’re just ‘resting your eyes’.” He never wants you to stop teasing him.
“No,” Bradley chuckles. “They sound perfect, but you’re going to let me Venmo you for them.”
“Ok, fine,” you agree. Almost reluctantly.
God, he loves you.
He leans in to kiss you. Once. Twice. Soft, sweet.
Bradley lets go of one of your hands to settle on your lower back and press you closer to him, until there’s no space between your two bodies. And brings the other one, with your fingers still tangled with his up against his chest. Before resting his forehead against yours.
“I’m so sorry I made you feel like that tonight.”
“Thank you, I forgive you.” You set the hand not entwined with his on the side of his face, your thumb sweeps across his cheek. “But I need you to hear me when I say that I can hold my own just fine, Bradley. I know you want to have my back and look out for me, but please, just not like that. Even if your heart is in the right place, ok?”
He nods. “I hear you, sweet girl. It’s not going to happen again. I promise.” He turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm. And then lifts the one still in his up to his lips, and drops a kiss to the back it.
“Plus, you taught me how to throw a punch, remember? I’m pretty sure I broke a guy’s nose one time,” you grin.
“Atta girl,” he says with pride. It’s so much lighter between the two of you now. He takes a couple step back, letting go of you and giving you a not-so-subtle onceover. “Ok, hot shot, show me what you got.” Beckoning you over with both hands.
“I’m not going to punch you, Bradley.”
“C’mon, kid, show me how it’s done.”
You shake your head at him in amused disbelief. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“No ma’am.” He taps his finger on his abs. “Let’s see it.”
You roll your eyes at him fondly. Then you hook your thumb over the top of your fist, just like he showed you all those years ago. And you ever so slowly, ever so gently press your perfectly aligned fist into his stomach. It could hardly even be considered a graze.
He doubles over with an overexaggerated oof and then tilts his head up at you and winks with a smile.
“You’re ridiculous.” The sound of your laugh fills his lungs.
It’s the same sound when he’d toss you into the pool when you were twelve. It’s the same sound when he’d spin you on the big tire swing when you were fourteen. It’s the same sound when he twirled you around the dance floor when you were nineteen at your mom’s second wedding.
There’s not just a glimmer of your dimples anymore, the full force of them hits him right in the chest.
“Speaking of punching,” Bradley says, straightening back up. “Hangman thinks I’m punching up.”
“Oh, does he? Interesting,” you hum. Your eyes shine in amusement.
He grins. “He’s not wrong. You’re way out of my league.”
You softly shake your head at him. “I’m just right for you. And you’re just right for me.”
He couldn’t agree more, but you don’t give him the chance too because you’re threading your arms around his neck and pulling his mouth to yours. With you in his arms and his lips on yours, he feels whole. You weren’t just right for him, you were perfect for him. And he’d never stop trying to be the perfectly right man for you.
No one’s ever had him, not like the way you do.
You’d always had a special place in his heart, but now the whole thing belonged to you. It was yours for the taking. He knew it would be in good hands with you, and he wasn’t going to stop proving to you that he was the one to be trusted with yours.
“Do you want me to take you home or do you want to go back inside?” He asks against your lips.
You kiss him again. “Let’s go back,” you say, wrapping your arm around his waist. “You owe me a dance, you know.”
He drops an arm over your shoulder. “I do?”
“You do.”
“Well then, lead the way, sweet girl.”
After he twirls you around on the crowded makeshift dancefloor of the Hard Deck, you let him take you home. Where he apologizes to you again, but this time on his knees with your thigh thrown over his shoulder. And twice more in your bed for good measure.
But not before he got his teeth on that little bow of yours.
He never stood a chance against it.
𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 ����𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫
Bradley is about to line up his next shot at the pool table when Jake saddles up and nudges his shoulder.
“Looks like your girl has an admirer.” Hangman points with his beer bottle, directing Bradley’s gaze to the bar where someone is chatting you up.
He recognizes him from the most recent batch of Top Gun students. To call him overconfident would be an understatement. The guy is clearly as full of himself on the ground as he is in the sky, based on his body language as he monologues to you, all puffed up chest and cocky smiles.
If the guy had any common sense, he’d see that you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. It’s written all over your face.
“So it seems,” Bradley agrees, rests a hip against the table.
He’d noticed the guy checking you out. But it was pretty ballsy of the aviator to be leaning into you the way that he is, considering the two of you had arrived together and that Bradley had been the one tasked with doing some demonstration trainings with them earlier in the week.
The man makes some big gestures with his hands, he’s clearly reached the part of his story that’s meant to impress you. Bradley chuckles to himself when he sees the less than subtle roll of your eyes.
“Are you going to go all Rocky Balboa on his ass?” Jake asks with a knowing smirk.
You must feel their eyes on you, because you glance over in their direction.
He knows you can handle yourself, but he’ll be there if you want him to be.
Bradley lifts his eyebrow in a silent question. You give him a slight shake of your head and he nods.
“Nah, she’s got it.”
He sees the moment the guy fucks up and oversteps, because your eyebrows shoot up. You’re his sweet girl, but he knows the other guy is in for it when look that promises the best kind of trouble settles over your face.
His favorite menace.
Bradley watches on as you lean over the counter and ring the bell with enthusiasm.
A cheer goes up throughout the bar. He brings his fingers up to his lips and lets out a loud whistle.
You look rightfully smug as Penny points out the wooden sigh strung up between the beer taps to the confused Top Gun student whose bank account will be hurting in the morning.
“Damn. I forgot the kid is a straight hustler,” Jake says, clearly impressed.
“She sure is,” Bradley grins, still looking at you, “It’s a good thing she likes you or you’d be screwed.” He pats Jake’s shoulder reassuringly, before pressing the cue into his hands.
You return a few minutes later, with a tray of frothy, freshly poured beers for everyone wearing an all-to-pleased grin that lights up the whole bar.
He waits until the beers are safely on the table before threading a finger through your beltloop and tugging him to you.
“That’s my girl.”
Bradley tilts your face up for a kiss. It’s not his best work, you’re making it difficult for him since you’re too busy smiling.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
Disclaimer: my writing playlist included Cassandra, The Prophecy, and Castles Crumbling. So legally I cannot be held accountable for any angst hangovers.
Thank you for reading!
If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!
You can read more of my stories here!
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hello might i ask for sassy badass reckless reader who is the #1 leading cause of aaron's gray hairs pls 🤞🏻 he is SO exasperated with her like he is TIRED™ but also tweaking bcs he's horrendously down bad for her he's gna throw up
Good morning. I hope you slept well, honey. Can you come to work early, say 6.10AM? I’d like to see you and talk about something in person.
You squint at the text that’s just come through. Another follows as you’re finishing, lighting the dark of your room.
I love you. Sorry, I know you don’t like when I forget to tell you in the mornings.
Your own response is sent without propriety. I love you too handsome. 6.10 is not gonna work.
Can you make an effort for me? he asks.
You do your very best.
“It’s almost seven,” Hotch says when you finally get there that morning, his frown audible and plain to see.
You hold up the bag of sugar donuts you’d purchased from the truck on the square just outside of Quantico’s endless parking lots. “Necessary delay.”
“Unnecessary. I asked you nicely to come early and you’re barely on time,” he grumbles.
How adorable. You put the bag of donuts on the desk and ignore the paperwork laid out waiting for you in favour of his side of the desk. He smells like cedar, his suit sleeve starched under your hand. You lean back against the lip of his desk and pretend you hadn’t been thinking about climbing into his lap —he’s formidable and lovely and that’s the best combination for lounging about atop someone, especially when that someone is very good at pressing you backwards, and better at kissing your neck.
He knows what you’re thinking. “You’ve woken up in a mood,” he murmurs.
“A good one,” you promise.
You take his coffee and steal a sip. Hotch, resigned, lays a hand on your thigh. “I have important things to talk about, you know? I thought I made that clear this morning.”
“You made a couple of things clear.”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I…” He tilts his head to the side. “Like I’ve been sending you dirty texts or photos.”
“Is that an option? I don’t think I’ve subscribed to those emails.”
“You make me out to be this salacious lark–”
“Aaron, I don’t do anything of the sort.” You can hardly hold back a laugh. “I’m sorry I implied you were sexting me, okay? I wish you had been.” He sighs a long-suffering sigh as you carry on. “But you were very formal. I’ll be sure to tell HR the same thing.”
His hand slips between your thighs. Nowhere it shouldn’t be, just trapped between soft flesh. “Don’t tell HR anything.”
His coffee is lukewarm and unsweetened on your tongue. Would it kill your uptight love to add just a dash of cream and sugar? Wrinkling your nose, you set aside the mug and press your mildly heated hand to his cheek. Just quickly, brushing a thumb up to the skin below his eye before you let it fall. “Tell me what you wanted me to come in early for. And, for the record, I’m sorry for not trying to get here before, just I didn’t sleep well, and my neck hurt too much to rush.”
He looks like he wants to ignore your apology. He doesn’t ask you for much, and showing up when he’d wanted you to would’ve been the kinder thing to do —he can be annoyed as both boss or boyfriend.
But he doesn’t have it in him.
“Why didn’t you sleep?” he asks softly.
“Thinking too much about my nice boyfriend.”
“Really?”
You slouch a little. Cover his hand where it rests between your legs. “I don’t know. It was really hot, and my mattress is getting old, probably.”
He ushers you down for a sympathetic kiss. He’s always so sorry to hear about your minor ailments, he must like you too much.
You attempt to crawl into his lap, curling an arm behind his head. He, disgruntled and yet far from reluctant, lets you take a seat.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble#criminal minds
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Dating the Hazbin Hotel Residents 😈
Tags: GN!Reader, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Mature Topics (ie. Suicidal Thoughts, Alcohol Abuse, SA, etc), Spoilers For The Show, etc.
A/N: Ahhh yes, more brainriot for the pile 😌 I was more of a Helluva gal before the show aired, but now I gotta say these blorbos are a dear part of my heart! Hopefully y'all enjoy these as much as I did writing them!
Consider following my main blog @taruchinator for more solid content & feel free to leave a request here for future HCs~
Charlie 🌈
When the Happy Hotel first opened its doors and all of Hell started making a mockery of it, you were probably the only one who took it as a sign to try and improve from the low life that you were. It's not like you had anything else to live for, anyway.
As soon as you enter the building, you're immediately greeted by the bubbly Princess of Hell herself (along with a reluctant Angel Dust) who is more than happy to show you around and welcomes you with open arms.
You've never been shown this much kindness and sympathy for your situation before, so it naturally takes you aback and makes you wonder what the catch is. Turns out there's none and the Princess is probably the only sweet soul to live in this shithole.
As you grow closer, she asks you to drop the title and just call her Charlie. She also shares a bit about her situation and how her mother wanted to save sinners from the extermination each year, and now Charlie felt like it was her duty to continue this legacy until her dreams came true.
You can't help but feel touched over how much she cares, so you silently vow to yourself to help her in any way you can, just like she's done for you.
It doesn't take long before the two of you grow even closer and feelings begin to blossom, but you decide to ignore them since why would a Princess ever like someone like you?
But Charlie proves you wrong yet again, since one day she comes to you a blushing mess and confesses her own feelings, asking if you'd like to go out with her. You can't help but vocalize your shock since she could do so much better than a random sinner. She deserved better, too.
She looks at you with fondness in her eyes. “You've been by my side for so long and supported me every step of the way. Who wouldn't fall for someone like that?”
And thus, you are the luckiest person in Hell because you scored Charlotte Morningstar, and whoever says otherwise can get a knife to their throat.
She's the perfect definition of a sweet and patient girlfriend, never pushing you to do anything you aren't comfortable with (since you really aren't used to such adoration in a romantic relationship), but as soon as you give her the get-go, she'll be sure to shower you with as much affection as she can until the doubts in your mind disappear completely.
You aren't that far behind either. Albeit not as good as her, you do your best to be a comforting partner whenever she needs you. This is especially necessary after an extermination happens, which always leaves Charlie devastated and in need of a hug or words of encouragement because she doubts herself sometimes and wonders if the hotel is even working at all.
You remind her how it brought the two of you together, to which she smiles and agrees that at least something good has come out of it so far.
Vaggie 🎀
Both you and Vaggie used to work in the same legion under Adam with the rest of his exorcists. You knew of each other's existence, but didn't really talk much aside from whatever was needed in the midst of battle.
The day she spares a demon child's life, you're doing your rounds nearby and witness the whole exchange, including Lute coming over and ripping both an eye and Vaggie's wings for showing mercy. You don't know why, but it makes your blood boil.
“HEY! What are you doing?! It was just a kid, why not let it slide?”
And just like that, you become a target of Lute's rage as well, being ripped from your angelic status along with receiving a few nasty cuts, yet surprisingly not as bad as Vaggie herself.
Once the two of you are left to die, you immediately try to tend the girl's wounds with whatever you can. Vaggie can only stare in disbelief at what you'd done and questions why you even did so in the first place—now you were stuck just like she was.
“Guess I just don't like seeing injustice... Who knew Heaven could be so fuckin' shitty?”
You both laugh at the irony of it all, and that's when luck is finally on your side as Charlie finds you in the dirty alley and brings you back to the hotel to heal properly.
For the next three years you two stay at the Hazbin Hotel, helping Charlie in any way you can to try and make her dream a reality since deep down you hope that despite Heaven's corrupt system, there can be a small chance that souls can be redeemed. You hide the fact that you're ex-Anges though, since you don't wanna cause unnecessary drama.
During this time period, the two of you become better friends, having your own inside jokes regarding things you didn't particularly enjoy from your time as Angels, as well as learning more about one another.
You're the one to come to terms with your feelings first and decide to lay them on the table for Vaggie to see—she's always been a straight-to-the-point kind of gal, so if you're about to be rejected, might as well have it be done quick. But of course, she replies with her own declaration and desire to give a relationship a shot, which you're ecstatic about!
It's a bit hard at first since you never got to see much of romantic relationships in Heaven while training for murder every year, but you try and make it work. Both you and Vaggie work endlessly to try and make the other happy, and it only makes you fall for each other even more.
Also Charlie is your go-to wingwoman who will be there to give you the best advice to try and woo your girlfriend. She ships you two so hard.
Angel Dust 🕸
Working at a porn studio under an Overlord who owns your soul can be exhausting. You know this better than anyone since everyone who works under Valentino has contracts that won't let you get far with a leash. This is especially true with your friend Angel Dust.
You know about the things Valentino does to the spider demon—hell, everyone in the studio probably knows, but know better than to say anything about it. You're always there for Angel after particularly rough shoots, doing your best to comfort him in any way you can, though there isn't much you can do given you're in the same spot.
When he tells you he's moving to Princess Charlie's Hazbin Hotel, you're so happy for him! At least that will give him some distance from Valentino and his disgustingly filthy hands when he's not working.
This unsurprisingly doesn't bode well with the Overlord, causing him to throw fits of rage around the studio when Angel leaves for the day. You can't help but make a snarky comment that you definitely regret moments later.
“Can one blame him for wanting space from such an overbearing asshole?”
Without his favorite stress toy around, you end up paying the price for such comments. The kind of pain and suffering he puts you through is completely different from what you're used to. Is this the stuff he does to Angel? He leaves you naked, bruised and bloody in your room, and all you can do is muster what little strenght you have left to head for the Hazbin Hotel.
As soon as the door opens, you immediately tumble forward and start losing consciousness. The last thing you remember is Angel's horrified expression before it all fades to black.
Once you wake up and have been patched up, you explain what happened at the studio, and you could've sworn you saw fire in Angel's eyes as he holds on to you, fearing you might disappear at any moment. He begs you to stay in the hotel with him, and you agree without hesitation.
And so, your new routine of heading to work and then coming back to the hotel becomes blissful, not having to deal with that lunatic mothman more than necessary. You also get to spend time off with your best friend, which is always a plus.
Well, ‘best friend’ might not be the best way to describe it. You'd developed a crush on the spider demon even before this whole incident occurred, and now that you were spending more time with him, it only continued to grow.
With the line of work you two had, romantic relationships didn't seem to be a thing that crossed anybody's mind since why have a permanent partner when you could just go around fucking the hottest people in Hell? But you knew your feelings were far beyond from sexual, but didn't wanna ruin what you already had going for you.
One heartfelt drunken conversation after work however, makes you do a double take—Angel likes you back. And that both scares and excites you. But with both of you going over the pros and cons with each other, you decide to give it a chance.
You make sure to always have Angel's consent when it comes to physical intimacy—anything from holding his hand, to kissing to just cuddling. He jokes about not being a porcelain doll, but deep down you know he appreciates it.
You're also there for the rough nights, when he comes home wanting nothing more than to die again and let the earth swallow him whole. Words of reassurance are spoken and you can only hold him and let him cry as you vow to do anything in your power to stop this from happening again.
Husker 🍺
As one of the first guests of the hotel, like any wayward sinner, you find yourself in the bar more often than you'd like. Alcohol killed you in the first place, yet not even in the afterlife could you seem to pull yourself from its grasp.
It's a somewhat welcome surprise to find out that the bartender is going through a similar struggle. He still serves you drinks and lends and ear whenever he's not busy, but will occasionally drop the words of wisdom to watch your fill.
Eventually you two find yourselves doing this little back and forth and aid each other when you're in your dark places—Husk won't let you near the bottle if he sees you're about to knock yourself out, meanwhile you're there to look after him when he has one too many drinks and can't take care of himself.
Not to say he isn't a good drinking buddy—you've found out most of the gossip around the hotel thanks to this sneaky little cat demon and there's never a dull moment with him around.
You learn about his deal with Alastor during a particularly bad night, when Husk's had one too many and isn't thinking straight. You don't bring it up, but now have an eye open for whenever the Radio Demon drags your friend away.
Angel's the one who brings up your questionable relationship to the surface.
“So... you two like, fuckin' each other, or what?”
Your entire face goes red, and if it weren't for the dark fur you could swear you see Husk looking the same. He's quick to get rid of Angel's nosy ass, but now the seed has been planted in your brain—do you like Husk that way?
After careful consideration, you come to the conclusion that yes, you do. And it's honestly kinda terrifying considering how relationships don't usually work out in Hell, at least from what you've seen. Besides, even if you did try and confess, there was always the possibility of him not feeling the same and just being embarrassed by Angel's comment.
So in an attempt to make your feelings disappear, you stop frequenting the bar. Who knew the best way to stop drinking habits was trying to avoid spending time with your unrequited crush?
But of course, Husk isn't stupid. He sees the change in your behavior and let's it slide for a while, until he eventually corners you and asks what's wrong. You decide to get it all out of the way and tell him how you feel.
To the embarrassment of both of you, he holds your hand firmly between his and darts his eyes toward the corner of the room. “Next time you should ask before going off assuming things, ya got it?”
And so, your glass may have been empty that day, but your heart had never felt fuller.
Sir Pentious 🐍
You meet Sir Pentious when you sign into the hotel, and your immediate thought is just how can this snake man be so adorkable, it should be illegal.
As you greet the other residents and staff, you're quick to strike a conversation with him, which based on his body language he was not expecting. He starts telling you a bit about his weaponry and other contraptions, and you can't help but be fascinated by it.
You're a bit of a tinkerer yourself, albeit you've only dabbled in small scale projects—nothing compared to the massive canons and aircrafts that Pentious seems to be familiar with.
He acts like a kid opening gifts on Sinmas when he talks to you about his inventions, clearly never having anyone show interest before. Eventually he'll even ask for your input on certain smaller projects he wants to work on to help around the hotel, all to thank Charlie for being so kind to him and giving him a second chance. You're obviously eager to help!
You two start spending so much time together that the egg boys have started calling you ‘Boss #2’, much to Pentious' embarrassment and your amusement.
One afternoon once exercises are done for the day, the snake demon seems much more fidgety than usual as he invites you over to his room to continue working on his security system prototype. He's a blabbering mess once he has you sitting down and your heart just can't help but swell at each little syllable.
“Dearest (y/n)... you've, um, well... you are a huge inspiration for my work! A-And I wouldn't have been able to create any of this... without your help. You are kind, and smart and very talented.... and w-well, um I-”
You gotta silence the man with a kiss otherwise you two would be here all day. He's puddy in your hands and you can only giggle in return. “I really like you too, Pen.”
Everyone is either saying they called it or groaning in annoyance because fucking FINALLY, you two were just dancing around each other like idiots. The egg boys are just so happy to have someone else besides Pentious to be in their lives, and will do their best to look out for you just like with their own boss.
So yeah, prepare yourself for some sickeningly sweet gestures from this guy cause he will go above and beyond to get you what you need/want even if it kills him (again). And you can confidently say that you'd do the same in return.
Alastor 📻
After running in the same circles when you were alive, it's no surprise to you to end up in Hell, although you never would've suspected that you'd find yourself in the same place as him. It was honestly a huge relief not having to go through this all by yourself.
As Alastor exerted his dominance over Hell as the Radio Demon, you were powerful enough to be an Overlord yes, but rather liked keeping it on the down low instead of making a spectacle of yourself (Alastor was the one for theatrics anyway). Because of this, only select few knew of your true power and what you were capable of.
Instead, if there was one thing you were known for, it was being the only soul allowed to be close to the Radio Demon without the risk of death.
Yes, Alastor was a sadistic, cold-blooded and egotistical mastermind, but he wasn't a monster. You knew that better than anyone. Although the reactions he had to other demons treating you like a joke or calling you the ‘Radio Demon's Pet’ were not helping his case.
“ł₣ ɎØɄ V₳ⱠɄɆ ɎØɄⱤ ₴ØɄⱠ, ɎØɄ ₩łⱠⱠ ₩₳Ⱡ₭ ₳₩₳Ɏ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ₦Ø₩ ฿Ɇ₣ØⱤɆ ł Ɽł₱ ł₮ ₳₱₳Ɽ₮ ฿ł₮ ฿Ɏ ฿ł₮...”
“Al, chill. You're gonna make them shit their pants.”
After his seven year absence, you immediately noticed something was wrong with him, and wouldn't stop pestering until he told you the truth—A deal he made and how his soul was now bound to someone much more powerful than he was.
You were obviously mortified and started looking into ways to try and find a loophole to this, but alas the Radio Demon would just give you his signature grin and tell you not to worry about it. It was his battle to face.
But of course you're quick to remind him that you've stuck together through thick and thin even in life, so there was no way you were letting him handle this by himself. You work as a team—always have and always will. You engulf him in a hug.
“We're gonna figure this out, Al. I promise...”
The grin remains, but his eyes widen slightly in surprise. He hesitantly returns the embrace, patting your back and wiping the tears you didn't even know you were shedding.
“There there~ To think such a sweet and innocent soul wound up in a gutter like this. I cannot say I complain as long as I have your delightful company beside me.”
And so when he says he has a plan that involves Princess Charlie Morningstar and her new Happy Hotel, you follow along. Whatever fate has in store for you two, you'll be ready.
Also Charlie is a sweetheart who could do no harm. Knowing Alastor, he'll probably do whatever he can here and there to help around for the cause. You also offer your services as an undercover Overlord, much to everyone's surprise when you reveal your status.
The Radio Demon may have a plan, but something tells you it won't involve bloody murder (unless extremely necessary or if someone really pissed him off).
Like you said—he's not a monster.
Lucifer 🍎
You and Lucifer were good friends at the beginning of Creation. While you were stuck with the tedious task of designing blueprints for the new ‘Human Project’ that headquarters had in store, Lucifer's Seraphim status allowed him to bring creations to life with the flick of a wrist, much to your delight and wonder.
His ideas and pitches for Earth were always so entertaining to listen to, and you would do your best to encourage him to show them to the higher ups to get them approved—His mind was just filled with joy and love and wonder that you'd never seen before.
Which was why it was always so disappointing whenever he'd come back and say that he was shut down and even mocked at. How could Heaven shut down such an imaginative mind in the creation of their biggest project yet?
To say you were devastated when you heard about his fall would be an understatement. You mourned the loss of your friend, knowing that he'd done nothing wrong and thinking it wasn't fair to him to receive such punishment just because he cared for the future of humanity.
Thousands of years later, you overhear the plan for Extermination of Hell kind. You didn't mean to walk by, yet here you were, under the direct eye of the Head Seraphims about to be downcast for something you had no control over—just like Lucifer.
“You're all self-entitled pricks! You think you can do whatever you want just because it doesn't follow what you define as good!”
You get a few good arguments before being cast downwards, leaving you in bad shape in a random alley with no wings and no means of escape. That is of course, until destiny seems to be on your side and Lucifer finds you, completely perplexed to see you here at all.
After getting treated, you tell him about the Extermination so he and Hell can prepare. The conversation of you getting cast down by Heaven gets glossed over, but he can feel the fury building up inside him. You were always doing things by the book—how could they do this to you?
Once the slaughter is over, Lucifer gets a meeting with Heaven and secures protection for both his daughter Charlie and you, to which they begrudgingly agree to keep him outta their hair. You can't help but feel touched by this gesture.
He's also quick to offer you a room to stay in, but you compromise by living in a seperate building from him and Charlie so you aren't a bother even though he says you aren't. In fact, ever since Lilith left, he's had to take care of his young daughter all by himself, so he's more than happy when you offer to help.
It doesn't take long for your feelings to start coming into the surface from all those years ago, and you gotta push them away because he's both married and has a child to look after! Besides, why would the King of Hell ever look in your direction?
Eventually though, he brings up the question with nothing but sweaty palms and a customized rubber ducky that says ‘I love you’ whenever you squeeze it. You blush furiously, but can't help but bring up your concerns, not wanting to replace Lilith in his heart. He looks into your eyes and says that he hasn't been as happy as he is now in the past thousand years.
Cue baby Charlie walking in on everything, and she just smiles and goes innocently. “Daddy! Is (y/n) staying home with us now?”
You two can only chuckle at the cuteness of it and you immediately go to hug her. You couldn't believe that you were blessed with such a wonderful family.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel spoilers#hazbin hotel x reader#charlie morningstar x reader#vaggie x reader#angel dust x reader#alastor x reader#sir pentious x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#husker x reader#husk x reader
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I’m not jealous (Aaron Hotchner)
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader
Summary: Aaron was going to show you how not jealous he is.
Rating: Mature 18+ only
Warnings: Jealous Aaron (though he is adamant he isn't), Reader taking advantage of a sweet guy, manhandling, Dom!Aaron, condescending, being called good girl (which made me MELT), Aaron spanks her once, fingering, overstimulation, Aaron is a sweet aftercare guy
Words: 2.9k
Main Masterlist | Criminal Minds Masterlist
Jealousy can be very ugly.
It can also be very hot. And on Aaron Hotchner it was sexy as hell. The way his jaw clenched, his eyes darken, and the air around him just got thick with tension you knew about, but the line was never crossed.
You had feelings for Aaron, everyone in the BAU knew it, he knew it, and he still had yet to decide what, and if, he felt for you.
You always tried to push him, loving the way he seemed so close to losing it only to watch him attempt to reel himself in. Once you had danced with a guy at the bar after a long case and your eyes never left Aaron. No matter how many times the guy dipped his head to kiss (more like slobbered with how drunk he was) your neck, you continued to stare at him, surprised that the glass he was holding didn’t break with the force of his grip, his knuckles already white.
And when you decided you were done with your dance partner, you attempted to leave only to have him get aggressive. You knew you could fit him off if need be, but it was much more satisfying when Aaron strode over and introduced him to that amazing right hook of his.
It was even better when he took you roughly by the waist and led you out of the bar.
In his car, you tried to push a little more, wanting him to finally admit something to you.
“God,” You sigh and brush your hand down his arm, admiring the way they flex under your touch, “You are so hot when you are jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“There is no need to deny the chemistry between us, Aaron. We aren’t on the clock so you aren’t my Unit Chief, and I am not your underling, though I would so love to be under you.” You purr, warmth flooding your as his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, your eyes following the motion longingly.
It would be easier if he would just give in to what was going on between the two of you.
But sadly, that was where the night ended for you.
Aaron took you back to your apartment, walked you up (like the gentleman he was), and left you there all alone.
Over the next few months you tried again and again to prove there was something between you, not only physically, but emotionally as well.
Pulling him out of his office for lunch or bringing it to him, just to make sure he would eat. Putting sticky notes on his monitor or his desk with little encouragements and reminders since you knew he could get too far into his own head and needed some help out.
And it wasn’t like he didn’t do things for you.
Bringing you coffee, made just to your liking, at the beginning of the shift or when you run low on your own coffee. He always seemed to know when you needed your fix. He also would save you a seat on the plane, the one next to the window because he knows you like to look out at the clouds during long flights.
“When we land, Y/n, Reid and I will go to the police station to set up. Morgan, you and Emily check out the crime scene.”
Aaron dished out the rest of the orders as the plane started to descend. Honestly after he told you where you were going to be, which of course was with him because he always seemed to think he needed to keep an eye on you, something you couldn’t decide if was out of how similar your skill sets are or because he has a constant need to be near you, you stopped listening.
You were certain that it was both. You knew Aaron wouldn’t sacrifice the case or the people involved just for a romantic feeling towards you.
Once you landed and got to the police station, everything seemed to flash by in a whirlwind.
You barely had any time to focus on anything other than catching the asshole that was killing women.
“You seem to be running into the ground, Agent.”
Officer Danny Grant was such a little cutie and seemed to immediately take a liking to you.
“I’ll rest when we catch this guy.” You reach for your cup of awful cop coffee, even though it was the only thing keeping you going at the moment, but frowned when you found the cup empty.
Cursing, you turn away from the board to get more.
“Here.” Grant offered you another cup, his face a little flushed and a smile on his lips. “I noticed you were low. I don’t know how you take it so I just made it black. If you need any creamer or sugar I can get it for you.”
“Thanks, Grant.” You smiled and took the cup. The warmth of it not only warming your hands, but your heart a little as well. Usually Aaron would bring you coffee, but this case seemed to take a toll on him, which you remind yourself you would have to check on him later. Now that someone else noticed and cared enough to bring you something so small, yet so vital, was sweet.
You take a sip of the black coffee, wishing it was sweeter, but the jolt of bitterness was the wake up you needed.
“I usually like it sweet, but black is fine. It’s just what I need.”
Grant continued to stick to your side, helping with the case whenever he could and bringing you more coffee (this time with a side of sugar). He was actually very helpful and you enjoyed the company of him, conversation and ideas bouncing easily.
Aaron on the other hand didn’t like the attention you were getting from the young, wide eyed officer.
He couldn’t stand the fact that he was distracting you from the case at hand (even though he wasn’t actually), the way you laughed when he said something you deemed funny, but it wasn’t, and the thing he hated the most was the smile you beamed at him when he brought you more coffee.
The smile you usually only gave him. Why were you giving it to this guy? Even when the group went out and you flirted with other men, knowing that it would get a rise out of him (though he would never admit it out loud) you never gave them that kind smile, the one that made your nose scrunch up so adorably.
It would be so easy for Aaron to go over there. He can imagine himself pulling you away from Grant. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how you felt pressed against his own body. The amount of nights he had to pull himself away from you, unable to cross that line, the line between boss and subordinate. A line that he’s tiptoed since the first time he saw you.
If only it was that simple to give into you.
A few hours later, you could feel your steam running out and your eyes drooping, no matter how much coffee you drank.
“There hasn’t been any new information.” Aaron’s voice woke you just before your head hit the conference table for the second time that night, “Let’s call it a night and look at this in the morning with fresh eyes.”
“No no,” you whine, failing to lift your eyelids, “I can keep going.”
“Agent Hotchner is right. Come on, let's get you to the hotel.”
Just as Grant reached for you, Aaron was quick to his feet, striding over to you with only a few steps and grabbing your shoulder before Grant could. “I have her.” Aaron lifted you up, one hand resting under both of your legs and the other on your back, smirking at Grant as you wrap your arms around his neck and snuggle into him.
The look of shock on the officer’s face was sickeningly satisfying.
Never would Aaron be this bold, especially in front of others, but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn't just let this man touch you. Not after spending all day watching his poor attempts at flirting.
You could, and probably would, be upset with him tomorrow.
Aaron lifted his chin, daring others to say anything as he made his way through the precinct with you tucked in his arms. Once you were outside, you push your face into his neck subconsciously, inhaling his scent and sending a shiver through him, thankful that at least some part of you waited until you were out of sight to get clingy with him.
“You are,” You yawn, lips brushing against his skin,”so hot when you are jealous.”
“I am not jealous.”
All you did was hum in response as you drift off to sleep in his arms.
For the rest of the case you stuck to Grant every chance you got, barely paying Aaron any attention.
He knew you were doing it on purpose. You knew he knew that you knew you were doing it on purpose.
Thankfully the team was able to wrap up the case and it was only one night left before you left.
No more case. No more reason to stay in California. No more Grant.
Aaron wonders if he should be as happy as he was as he pressed the button for your floor on the elevator. He doesn’t have much time to think about it when a minute later the elevator door opens and he sees Grant standing at your door, leaning against the open door with you.
“So now that the case is over, do you want to get dinner before you leave? I’m sure hotel food isn’t as good as a good burger at this little dive I know down the street.”
You giggle at his forwardness. While you do love and want Aaron, turning down a free meal from a cute man before you never see him again couldn’t hurt, right?
“You know a little dive? Is it a ‘California delicacy?’”
Grant leaned in, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Oh absolutely.”
Rage and jealousy flows through Aaron, his jaw and fists clenched. His legs carried him towards you before his brain could catch up.
No more games.
In a flash, Aaron grabbed Grant by the collar of his shirt, yanking him back and away from you.
“A Aaron?!” You squeak as the man pushes you into your hotel room, closing and locking the door behind you.
His hands grab your wrists, tugging and trapping them above your head, the air leaving you completely as his lips crash against yours.
The months and months of tension finally exploded within you, arching your hips to meet him, gasping when he grips your wrists tighter in warning.
“You really can’t resist flirting can you?” Aaron’s voice may have been calm, almost bored, but his eyes betrayed the fire, the anger he held. “You just love to rile me up.”
“I thought,” you moan when he moves to kiss your neck, “you weren’t jealous.”
His laugh is condescending, one of his hands snaking down to your side while the other held tight. This was the Aaron Hotchner you wanted, the one you knew he could be if you just pushed right, but now that he was here you didn’t quite know how to handle him.
Not that you would let him know. Not as your body shivers when he rests his hand on your waist, nails digging through the material of your jeans.
“You and I both know I am not. Why be jealous when your body is so truthful with me? It tells me everything,” His smirk widens as he cupped your cunt and you whine, subconsciously grinding against his hand, seeking the dull pleasure you could get through the two layers of fabric separating you, “I need to know. It is an open book for me.”
You want to cry when Aaron withdraws from you, only proving his point further. God you want him. More than absolutely anything.
“Now be a good girl and get on the bed. I want you naked and on all fours by the time I get out of the bathroom.”
“T The bathr…” Your words die on your lips when Aaron gives you a pointed stare, one that has you clenching around nothing, before he walks away from you and into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar, almost as if daring you to disobey him.
As much as you wanted to, just to see what he would do to you, you decided that would be for a different time. Quickly shedding your top and jeans, you obey like the good girl you want to be for him.
You wait for what feels like an eternity, but was probably only five minutes before you could hear Aaron’s footsteps coming out of the bathroom. Instinct has you turning your head to look at him, “Don’t you fucking move.” but his harsh voice has you snapping it back and a shiver running down your spine.
Or was that his fingers that danced along your back? Honestly you didn’t know, but you didn;t have time to ponder it before he splayed his open palm across one of your ass cheeks, drawing back and coming down with a swift smack.
You moan, the sudden motion causing you to fall forward, your arms giving out.
“Just a little taste of what happens when you play with me.” Aaron rubbed the spot where you were sure was going to be slightly red from the force. “But I won’t give you more since you seemed to follow my orders like such a good girl.”
A whine escapes you at his words. You wanted to hear them over and over. To be praised by him over and over. His fingers ghost from your ass straight to your center, pressing and feeling, but never fully sinking into you.
“Oh fuck,” You squirm under his carful attention, “Please. Please Aaron!”
“Please what? How will I know what you want without words?”
You cry as the tip of his finger comes dangerously close to your clit only for him to pull it away just as quickly. You knew what he was doing. He was teasing you just like you had teased him, almost like a form of sick payback, and though he did have the upper hand, you felt like you had already won.
You had him in bed.
“Please touch me, Aaron. I need your hands on me, in me, anything.”
“There we go.”
The reward for your confession was sweet. His fingers circled your clit, applying the right amount of pressure that had you moaning loudly. Aaron continued to work you, leaving your brain in a haze of pleasure which only intensified when he finally moved to sink one finger into your core.
“Fuck..” Aaron curses, his finger setting a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you, admiring the embarrassingly wet noises your cunt makes. “You are so wet.”
You moan when he slides a second finger in, then a third, the stretch burning oh so deliciously.
He’s got you at his mercy, hips rocking back to meet his thrusts, drool pooling on the hotel sheets below you. “Aaron!” You cry, the coil in your gut pushing and pushing you closer to the edge, threatening to break and toss you into a sweet release.
“Let go.”
With his permission, and his fingers brushing that sweet spot that made you see stars, you do.
You scream as your orgasm crashes into you. If the outside could hear you, you didn’t care. All that mattered was Aaron, his name the only thing occupying your mind and the only thing spilling out of your mouth as if it was the only name you knew.
And right now it was.
Aaron continued to thrust his fingers into you, helping you through your orgasm until you tried to pull away from him, but his other hand gripped your waist, pulling you back and onto his fingers.
“Aaron!” You squirmed. It was too much, but you didn’t want him to stop as his fingers expertly stroked and thrust, bringing you to a second orgasm in record time. Tears prick your eyes, your body shaking, feeling weightless and not here.
You didn’t even notice when Aaron carefully turned you on your back, brushing your hair back from your face and kissing your forehead. He treated you like procaline, peppering kisses all over your face until you came back to him. “There’s my girl.”
His girl. The thought had you smiling like a lovesick fool, which was appropriate because you were. No longer were the steel eyes and lustful gaze, but soft brown eyes filled with an adoration you weren’t used to seeing. You swallow and reach for him. Aaron wrapped you in his arms and held you close.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
Now what? Was he going to continue? Fuck you? Or, and something you hoped he wouldn’t do, leave you.
Aaron, the ever brilliant profiler he was, could see the war going on in your head before you could speak. He leaned down to kiss you, hand gently rubbing shapes on your upper thigh.
“Don’t worry. I will be right here for more when you wake.”
You feel a little guilty about not returning the favor, but Aaron quickly shuts that down. He grabs the hotel comfort and pulls it up, covering the two of you, tucking you into his chest. Your eyes feel heavy from the force of cumming twice (and Aaron’s skilled fingers) that you couldn’t seem to argue, eyes closing as sleep takes over.
You definitely would make him feel good when you wake up.
(Banners by cafekitsune)
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds x reader#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch fanfiction#aaron hotchner smut#criminal minds smut
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is it casual now? (teaser) 🫀 seungcheol x reader.
★ seungcheol x makeup artist!f!reader. ★ teaser word count: ~8,000 ★ genre/warnings: mdni. 18+ content. situationship/friends with benefits, light angst, use of pet name ('love'). soft dom!seungcheol, making out, biting/marking, protected sex. let me know if i missed anything! ★ footnotes: this has been on my backburner for months. it's admittedly a full-blown story in need of hard editing, and so i'm posting this in hopes of bullying myself into working on the whole thing. should it come down to it, though, i like to think this can stand on its own. enjoy. <3
Seungcheol has been in the industry long enough to know that everybody had vices.
Trainees, rookies, veterans. It didn't matter. There were dangerous, risky vices. Alcohol, drugs, smoking. There was dating, too, of course. Dating fans, dating fellow idols.
Seungcheol didn't do drugs. He smoked socially, but he would rather not. And he drank, sure, but never to an unhealthy amount. Dating, however—
Did it really count when there was only really ever one person he treated like a vice?
You've been in his life since the group debuted. Nine years, give or take. And then, at one point, he just... tried something with you. And it clicked, fell into place, and now you've been sneaking around for the better half of three years. It's the one place Seungcheol feels like he can breathe, can get away. But it's also the biggest secret he's kept.
You're his makeup artist, after all.
When the two of you started off, you both insisted on nothing serious. To 'keep it casual'.
That worked perfectly for Seungcheol. He likes to think it's still working for him, as he raps at the door of your apartment and waits for you to open up. His wristwatch says that it's midnight, but it doesn't matter. He knocks a little louder, growing a touch impatient.
You open the door, and you're greeted with Seungcheol looking reproachful. "Yah," he chides. "Why haven't you been answering my texts?"
When you rub your eyes with the back of your hands and look over your shoulder to glimpse at your wall clock, Seungcheol almost feels apologetic. Almost. “Cheol,” you say exasperatedly, slowly. “It’s the middle of the night.”
"So you were sleeping then, hmm?" Seungcheol says. The corner of his lips tilt up, just slightly. He leans against the doorframe, taking a brief amount of time to glance you over. As he does, a small wave of tiredness finally washes over him— just how late had he kept himself up working on new music? "I sent you texts hours ago."
"You didn't even read them." He reaches up, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He sighs, the sound almost exaggerated. "How cruel of you."
You let out a low hum at Seungcheol’s fingers brushing against your skin. “Mmm, I fell asleep with my phone in my hand,” you admit, the words coming out more like a soft sigh than anything else.
You seem to finally drag yourself out of your sleepy state to give Seungcheol a once-over. He knows it shows all over— the exhaustion in his eyes, his stance. He’s tired, and you can tell. You’ve always been able to tell.
You step aside a bit and he takes that as his cue. Seungcheol moves past you, a small hum in the back of his throat. He toes off his shoes and shuts the door behind him with a soft click. In spite of himself, the moment he's inside, he reaches for you.
One arm is loosely slung over your shoulders, pulling you in close. He rests his chin on your shoulder, the tip of his nose against your neck.
"You fell asleep..." he gripes. "Do you know how many texts I sent you? I sent five.”
“Five”” you repeat as you bear Seungcheol’s weight. Your hand instinctively raises to stroke the base of his hair behind his neck, and he thinks he could melt then and there— your soothing touch, your light tone. “Oh, how ever will you live?”
Seungcheol huffs into the crook of your neck. The feel of your fingers in his hair does wonders to combat the tired, stressed part of himself. Slowly, his shoulders relax, and he sighs, the sound long and deep.
"Don't get snarky with me," he mutters. But there's no bite to it at all, just a quiet sense of contentment in his voice. "You could've at the very least read the messages." He moves, presses a kiss to your neck. "Would've taken ten seconds."
“I was asleep,” you protest, but— whether or not you notice— your head is tilting around a bit to press a lingering kiss on to the side of his face.Seungcheol's stomach flutters. You're sweet like that. Always have been, always will be. He hums under his breath at the kiss, his hand that's on your shoulder moves up to cup your cheek.
“That’s my penance,” you say drowsily.
"One kiss isn't nearly enough," he tells you.
He pulls back from your shoulder to look at you, now. The eye contact, the way he regards you, has a more focused weight. He takes a moment to look you over again— hair mussed, face still flushed faintly from sleep. "Two,” he says in a tone that brokers no argument.
“Greedy,” you mumble, but both of you know it doesn’t matter.
Not when your free hand finds purchase at his side and you use your fingers in his hair to pull him down so you don't have to stand on your tiptoes. Not when you press your lips together into a kiss that's soft and sweet, almost sleepy.
All it takes is the sound of your voice for Seungcheol to be pulled in— when you tug at his hair, he follows, his chest against yours. He bends down, his own hands coming up to the sides of your face.
He melts against your mouth, his eyes closing in an instant. But it’s done as quickly as it started. You pull away, your face still inches away from Seungcheol’s, as you smilingly mumble to him, “There. Two kisses.”
His eyes open again once you pull away, his grip on your face tightening just slightly. "Three," he mutters back, and then he leans back in.
You hum against his mouth, the sound breaking free from the back of your throat. You’re both so tired from your respective work and it shows in the kiss. No heat, no fire. Your tongue swiping over his lip makes Seungcheol hum, quiet and low in his throat. He's usually so used to being the one who takes control, making the first move, but here with you, in the early hours of the morning— there's something else to it.
He pulls you closer against him, his hands moving down to your hips. Against your mouth, he murmurs, "Four," before his tongue slips in, just to get a taste. Just to linger, just to savor, but not take over.
“Cheol,” you huff, though your reprimand is tempered by the way Seungcheol is intent on keeping the kiss going. “You’re— mmph— being greedy—”
"Five—" he sighs against your mouth. "Let me be greedy a second more."
One of his hands moves to the back of your head, fingers tangling up in your hair. This is what he likes, this is what he always comes to you for. Something that's simple. This, he can deal with. This, he can handle.
It’s never a second more with Seungcheol. He’s always out the door when he can go, when he has to. He’s never been a glutton for time, and so it’s enough for you to sense that something is wrong.
You break away from him.
Seungcheol has to resist a whine when you pull back, his eyes fluttering open in a daze. Your hand has moved to his face and you’re looking up at him with a small frown and a quiet query. “Long week?”
He lets your question hang in the air for a moment, the hand in your hair loosening its grip, fingers just idly combing through the strands.
He glances at your face— the furrow of your brow, the hint of concern in your eyes— and it makes him sigh. He turns his head to press a soft, quick kiss to your palm.
"Long year," he corrects.
You look like you want to say more. Seungcheol almost begs you not to. This— whatever the two of you have— it’s an outlet that won’t break him, won't ruin him, won't tarnish him or the group's name. He just wants— he needs—
You know exactly what he needs, even if he doesn’t always know himself. “How do you want your fifth kiss?” you ask instead of commenting on his obvious fatigue.
Your question makes Seungcheol's head empty out in an instant.
It takes him a moment to think, to consider. His mind, hazy and tired as it is, struggles to come up with an adequate answer. All he knows is that he's comfortable, that he's tired, that you're here. And that's all he really needs, in the end.
He lets his hand fall from your hair, to the nape of your neck. "... Soft," he murmurs. "Soft and easy."
You’re back up on your tiptoes to give him what he asked for. A sweet, slow press of your lips against his. It’s a kiss that lovers give each other, even though you’re the furthest from that.
It's easy, easy, easy for him to fall into the kiss just like that, a shudder running down his spine when your tongue doesn't invade him. It's sweet, it's chaste, it's simple. It's exactly the kind of kiss he needs after a week of work.
His hand on your neck moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing over the skin there. He breaks away for a mere second, a fraction of a beat, to catch his own breath, but he kisses you right back after.
"Six," he whispers desperately. "Again."
This time, you laugh against his mouth— a slightly muffled sound, not any less amused— but you give in, still. When you separate for air again, one of your hands rests on his chest to keep him away. “You have to let me breathe, Cheol,” you huff.
Seungcheol has to resist groaning outright when your palm on his chest keeps him from coming in for another kiss. You're adorable like this, in the middle of the night, with sleep in your eyes and annoyance in your voice.
He knows he's being needy, taking advantage, but at the same time? It's all he seems to be able to do. Greedy, he hears you call him, and it's true.
"I'll let you breathe when I get my seventh kiss, then," he grumbles.
He can see the annoyance blooming on your expression, but he’s saved by one thing and one thing alone: The fact that you can get pretty greedy sometimes, too, especially when Seungcheol was involved.
"Fine," you say haughtily, feigning annoyance. "Just one more kiss."
Seungcheol's eyes glimmer with something akin to mischief. His hands move to your face again, his own lips curving up in a smirk. You give him an inch, he wants a mile. It's his style. "One more kiss. That I can work with."
He brushes a thumb over your cheek again, his grip in your hair loosening only to brush some stray strands away from your face. "Only fair that I get to pick the way, then," he says, his tone low.
He's going to make the most of this opportunity, and you're letting him.
His tongue darts out briefly to lick over his bottom lip. "Open your mouth."
When you let out a noncommittal hom and oblige, parting your lips, he knows he’s gone. Seeing the obedience in your face makes Seungcheol's stomach do a little bit of an excited flip. You're like this, this, even when you're tired, when you're barely awake.
It's a little addicting.
"Good," he says softly. It's all the warning you get before he's got his mouth on yours again.
He kisses you— devours you, his tongue parting your lips, sliding into your mouth, taking. The kiss is almost bruising and seems to throw you off balance, but you quickly recover by pressing flush against Seungcheol and holding the sides of his arms. If he were a better person, Seungcheol would let this be the last one. Would let this kiss end and call it a night.
But then the smallest of sounds escape you. A whimper, a soft noise that only makes all sense fly right out of Seungcheol's head. It's not fair, he thinks, that you still have a hold on him even in the middle of the night.
All it makes him do is pull you closer— press you up against the wall with his entire body, his hands still gripping your face as he kisses you deep. Harder than he usually would, rougher than he normally did.
He swallows the sound, his tongue still in your mouth.
Your fingernails are pressing into his biceps now. Your tongue is sinking into his lower lip; not quite biting, but enough to drag his focus away for a moment. "Seung," you sigh, and it’s like music to his goddamn ears.
He was Choi or Seungcheol when he was in your makeup chair. Cheol, when it was just the two of you. But Seung was something different entirely.
A small moan, low and quiet, gets caught in Seungcheol's throat when you bite into his lip, when you whine out his name like that. He knows what it means when you call him like that— knows what he's in for.
He relishes in it. In moments like these when he gets to be like this. When he doesn't have to be responsible, when he doesn't have to be a leader. He gets to be just Seung.
There isn't a single part of his body that's not on fire right now, not when he's got you pinned against the wall, not when you're all satin and soft against him. His grip on your face tightens, and now his lips are no longer on your mouth, but on your jaw, moving down to your neck, your throat.
A quiet, needy little ah falls out your lips when he nips at that spot on your pulse point, and there, there is exactly when he knows that he's got you exactly where he wants you. Pinned by his body, shaking and shivering like he's touching you for the first time.
If he was feeling a little less riled up, a little less needy, he'd keep up the teasing. But he can't, not now. His hands move from your face to your hips, moving under the satin of your pajamas. It's not enough, never enough.
Every sound that leaves your mouth, every little please, just, already sets a fire in his brain. Every part of his mind turns to static, white noise, as he keeps his lips on your throat, your neck, biting and nipping at your skin.
“Seung,” you hiss, your hands flying to his shoulders as you press your back on to the entryway wall, willing yourself not to crumple. “I’m going to get a noise complaint again—”
“I'll pay the fine,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips against your collarbone now, his hands still on your hips. His brain is starting to grow fuzzy, his thoughts less coherent, but this was the goal.
To get you like this. Soft and shaking and desperate. To make you his for the night, for just a little while. To hold some sort of control over something in his life.
“You can't just keep paying for— ah— the fines,” you’re babbling. “They're going— t-to kick me— Seung, fuck!"
Whatever you’re trying to say dies out when Seungcheol nips at your warm skin. The rational part of him, somewhere deep, deep inside, knows that you're right. He can't keep paying your fines for complaints of loud music and loud sex.
The part of him that's currently working on painting a bruise on your collarbone doesn't seem to care all that much.
"I'll pay," he repeats, between leaving a few more marks on your skin for good measure. "As many times as I have to—"
“Jesus Christ,” you cuss, your chest heaving as Seungcheol’s hand moves higher and higher up your shirt. “My neighbors are so fucking sick of me, and it’s all your fault.”
“My fault?” Even through the haze in his head, Seungcheol can't help the low scoff that he lets out. He wants to say that he couldn't care less about your neighbors— wants to say that your pretty mouth makes up for the noise, but something else catches his attention. The brush of his fingers on bare skin.
His eyes go wide, his brain suddenly clearing.
"You're not wearing anything underneath your pajamas," he deadpans, his voice coming out in a low drawl.
Of course, that adds up. You hadn’t been expecting Seungcheol, after all, so he can’t blame you for foregoing the underclothes. Still, it only stokes the growing flame in the base of his stomach. Especially when you move your head back against the wall so you’re looking right up at Seungcheol, the ghost of a smirk on your face.
“Wanna check for yourself?” you taunt.
A low groan falls out of Seungcheol's mouth as soon as you ask that. Like clockwork, his hands go to the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric up slightly. Just a little bit, just to see if you're really not wearing anything beneath.
"You always like to tease," he says, his voice low. That hint of a smirk on your face is only serving to drive him that much crazier. "Go on, then. Show me, since you want to act all cocky."
You give him half an eye roll that’s more affectionate than anything else before reaching over to the back of your pajama collar. You pull the top over your head in one deft, swift movement. Seungcheol's eyes go wide for just a moment, taking in the sight of you, undressed, in front of him. It never stops shocking him, never stops making his heart thump a little harder, his breath coming out a little more labored.
“Happy?” you half-joke, your voice low.
He looks at you, up and down, before his eyes go back to your face. His hands move from your hips to your waist, fingers tracing over the sides of your chest as he shakes his head.
"Not yet," he says. "But I will be."
His hands keep tracing over your skin, his touch light— almost feathery, as he keeps his eyes fixed on your face. There's something about seeing you so exposed like this that's driving him absolutely insane, something about you being entirely at his mercy that's making his eyes grow dark.
He leans in, bringing his lips just past your ear. "Turn around," he murmurs, almost like a command.
He sees how you swallow hard, how you take in the familiar darkness in Seungcheol’s gaze. You know him, have known him for years, and that comes with trust. Unflinchingly, you twist around in his arms to press your chest against the wall.
He has you practically trapped, all against his chest and the wall. His eyes look at you up and down, taking in your bare shoulders and back, the way you've submitted to him so perfectly.
His hands go to your hips again, and his eyes look over your back, following the line of your bare spine. "What do you say we find a use for this wall besides me just pushing you up against it," he murmurs. "Hm?"
“Yes, please,” you whimper, and as soon as you agree, Seungcheol's hands tighten on your hips, his grip almost bruising as he pulls you a little closer to him. You're not going anywhere, not when he's got you like this.
He leans in, his body practically pressing up against your back, his chest against your skin. He bites down on your shoulder, pulling a strangled whine out from somewhere deep in your throat. "You look so goddamn pretty like this, love," he murmurs against your skin.
His hands move from your hips to your chest, tracing the skin there before he brings them up to your throat. He presses his fingers against your pulse point, feeling the thump thump thump of your heartbeat.
He can feel your heart thrumming against his hand, can practically hear you shaking. It's driving him absolutely insane— you, underneath him, trembling for him. The knowledge that he's got you like this, the fact that you're letting him take control, letting him do whatever he wants.
He moves his mouth to that spot on your neck again, the skin that's so sensitive that it makes you whimper and shiver. He always finds it so easy to tease those sounds out of you, and always relishes in doing it.
His hands stay at your neck, his fingers still pressed against your pulse point. This had always been one of Seungcheol's little habits— a single finger on your pulse point, as if he liked seeing which actions would make your heart rate spike, which words would have it hammering.
Seungcheol presses his lips on your skin again. "You're so loud."
He marvels at the way you ball your hands into fists, the way you shake all over with poorly concealed want and need as he keeps nipping and marking. "‘M not," you gasp, lurching forward against the wall. "‘M perfectly— hng!"
Everything is working in his favor.
You're shaking, and your heart is racing, and every noise you make is just more fodder for him. God, he loves it. Loves being the one to make you absolutely tremble and shiver like this. Loves the fact that he's the only one to make you feel like this.
"You're mine," he says again, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He bites the shell of it, hard, before letting out a low hum.
This is his favorite place in the entire world— right against your back, feeling your body heat against his chest, his tongue running over your skin. He loves how reactive you are to him, how sensitive you are, how your body just melts under his touch.
"Say it," he mutters against your skin. "Who's in control?"
There it is. The million won question.
The whole reason you started these rendezvouses in the first place. He had been spinning out of control, and you had been lonely, and you clicked into place like magnets.
You give in, like you always do. The words are a soft whimper, almost a shout in your otherwise empty apartment. "You. You're in control, Seung."
That's all he wants to hear.
He digs his fingers into your jaw and wrenches your head so it's turned to look at him, his lips inches from yours. Even if there's a little pain, nothing in him is stopping. "Good," he mutters, his breath hot against your lips. "Good girl."
The kiss that follows is absolutely messy, the kind of kiss where it's just tongue and teeth and raw need. It's worlds different from the soft and easy kisses that Seungcheol asked for earlier, when he first came in complaining about five unanswered texts.
"Seung," you groan as you pull away for air. "Please—"
When you moan his name, it's like something snaps.
He growls low, his fingers slipping into the waistband of your shorts, gripping the fabric hard enough that there's a very real chance of them ripping. "Please what?" he mumbles against your neck. "You need to tell me what you need, love. Use your words."
"I hate you," you whine, and Seungcheol nearly smiles. He knows you’re not fond of begging, but he needs to hear it from you. At least, he wants to.
"You know what I—" you’re saying, but dammit, his control is already razor thin as is. He rips off the last fabric of clothing on you until you’re completely bare, pressed entirely up between the wall and him.
Somehow, your mind still has some shrivel of coherence to complain, "I liked this set, asshole!"
He grins against your skin at your words, chuckling at your whine, at the way you're just reacting to him. You can act annoyed, you can act like you don't need him, but he knows. "I'll buy you a new one," he hums, finally letting go of your shorts and letting them fall to the floor in tatters. "One for me to rip to shreds all over again."
That thought alone makes his blood sing.
It takes you a great effort to turn around, but somehow you manage. Seungcheol is still fully clothed and so your bare chest presses against the front of his shirt. The sight of you, naked, his hands at your hips, pressed right up against him, against his chest like this— he's gone.
And then you’re asking him, low and sweet as he has you caged in, "Where are you going to fuck me tonight, Seung?"
He can't even manage a word for a moment, his hands holding you so tight that he's definitely going to leave marks on your skin, his eyes fixed on your face.
He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry at the question. "You want me to say it out loud, hm?"
You go to steal the upper hand for a minute or so, and you do it so effectively. Your hand rises almost lazily to his neck, your finger instinctively finding his pulse point. He feels his heart rate speed up as he watches, just watches, you do it. You stand on your tiptoes to raise your lips directly to his ear.
All he can feel is the thunder of his heart racing against your hand. You seem to notice it, too, if the smile on your face is any indication.
"How about you just show me instead?" you say, and he’s convinced he’ll pass out then and there.
"You're a brat," he mutters through gritted teeth, his hand moving up from your hips and up your spine. "A brat who needs to be taught a lesson."
He takes a shuddering breath, almost completely lost in your little game, before he snaps back to himself. Seungcheol's hand leaves your hip and goes to your hand, gripping your wrist hard. "On the sofa," he says, and it’s nothing short of a command.
He practically drags you on to the piece of furniture, watching intently as you fall back with a small oomph. Seungcheol stands on the edge of the couch as you prop yourself up by the elbows to watch him right back.
The sight of you underneath him— your hair splayed against the cushions, your eyes half-lidded and fixed on him? It's absolutely perfect. It's the kind of thing that he wants to keep in his mind forever, the sight he wants to always be able to remember.
He lets out a noise under his breath as he undoes the button of his jeans, the sound of the zipper going down obscenely loud in the quiet room. "Gorgeous,” he breathes.
He gets his jeans undone and kicked off, his shirt following them not long after, and then he's on top of you, caging you in, his hands either side of your head, staring down at you.
The look in his eyes isn't something he really gets to show often— that raw need, that want, how desperate he is for you. He wants you, God, he wants you so badly, and you're letting him have you.
He dips his head to your neck, his lips against your skin, his breath hot against your pulse point, still absolutely obsessed with that spot. His hands find your wrists, pinning them back against the couch, while his knee finds its way between your thighs, pressing up against you.
You arch and squirm underneath him, visibly distressed with the facsimile of friction that you’re getting from his knee. “Seung,” you pant, grinding your dripping core against his knee. It sends a jolt of electricity through him. “Please— don’t wanna wait any more—”
“Where’s all that snark now, hm?” he teases, his teeth running over the skin on your neck. But he’s not any better off, his own self-control slipping through his very fingers as his hips grind down against you desperately.
"Been driving me insane, love," he whispers, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your neck. "Been dreaming about this for days. Missing you—”
A low keen escapes you, and he can only echo it as you tug at the last piece of material separating you. “Can we get this off already, please?” you huff as you hook your fingers at the waistband of his boxer shorts.
He groans against your skin, his teeth finally letting go when he lifts his head to look down at you, the expression on his face looking like he's fighting for control. "God, yes," he groans, lifting his hips just enough for you to tug them off him.
He kicks them off once you’ve yanked them down, and his hand— which has instinctively gravitated to your pulse point— feels how the beat absolutely skyrockets. One of your arms goes around his shoulder and the other, surprisingly, clutches his jaw.
You’re looking right at him as you say, "Fast and hard, Seung."
"Yeah?" he says, just the slightest hint of a surprise in his voice. "You want me to be rough with you, love?"
Seungcheol was usually a sweet lover. He liked taking his time, liked being gentle and responsible even in bed.
But there were particularly rough weeks, terrible days, where he just needed a means to an end. Where the sex was an outlet, where the best thing you could be for him was his.
He waits for your permission, because he still always remembers to ask no matter how far deep you’re in. The agreement comes in the form of the best three words.
"Ruin me, Seung."
You know him too well. You know how he works, you know how he thinks, and you know him better than anyone.
He groans in response to your words, his head dipping down to drag his teeth gently over your collarbone. He's trying to hang on to his control, he is, but it's a losing effort.
"I will, love." His breath is hot against your skin, his hands finding your hips. "Just give me a minute—"
He shifts, just for a moment, to find the condom in his jean pocket. He goes through the motions until he's back on top of you again, one hand coming up to grip your hip again, the other coming up to rest against your throat. He looks down at you, his eyes almost glowing.
"You trust me?" he mutters. His hand at your hip tightens; his hand at your throat barely clenches around your pulse point, his eyes never leaving yours.
You can feel it, see it. The way the little threads are beginning to unravel and fray. The way this was no longer Seungcheol of SEVENTEEN; not the leader, not the idol. This was something different entirely, someone else completely.
"I do," you whisper back, your eyes so full of adoration for him that he has to bite back the urge to scream. "I trust you, Seungcheol."
His full name is what really does it for him, because then he's pushing in, and you’re gasping, whimpering, trying to adjust around him and the fact that you’re practically clenching him on the get-go. Seungcheol eases in, nice and slow, because you’re too tightly coiled for him to do more than carefully bottom out. You’re both heaving, your breaths coming out as gasps; your own breaths are sharp, harsh, because Seungcheol is still choking you a little.
His head dips down to your shoulder because he needs something to hold on to, anything, while his mind spins. His head is dizzy feeling you like this, feeling you around him so tightly. He's trembling, his thighs shaking, but he's holding himself back as long as he can.
When Seungcheol gets as far in as he can possibly get, you let out twin groans. He’s completely sheathed inside of you and you’re fluttering around him in a way that’s dangerous.
“Y’can move, Seung,” you reassure him after a moment, the words coming out strained with desire. “As fast and hard as you want.”
You sound strangled, just like he feels, and it's taking him a mammoth amount of control to hold himself back. He groans against your shoulder at the sound of your voice, the words you say. He wants to move, to thrust, but he's trying to have some semblance of composure.
"Love," he says, his voice wrecked. "I—"
His voice breaks. It breaks, because there is only so much he can take, and he's beyond that point now. There's a tremor in his thighs, his hands clenching in the cushion below you.
You drag him right back down, with the sound that you let out that’s halfway a whine and a sigh. One of your hands goes to rest in the space between Seungcheol’s shoulder blades, as if to steady the two of you.
Your voice is surprisingly firm when you speak. "Let go," you command. And then, softer, "I need you."
Your words, your voice— it's in complete conflict with the situation you're currently in. And yet, it works. He lets out a sound, one that's somewhere between a growl and a whimper, his breath hot against your skin. And then he's moving and he's holding nothing back.
He's hard, brutal, and he's taking. His teeth on your shoulder; his breath against your neck; his nails digging into you.
It's a relentless, dizzying pace. Seungcheol bullies into your weeping cunt, fast and hard, and it draws out the most obscene sounds from you. Gasps, whines, an occasional scream when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. What has him seeing stars is the fact that you can't seem to settle on a name to moan. "Seung— Seungcheol— Cheol—"
Yes, you're saying, yes.
Seungcheol loses himself, utterly and completely, in you. You're on the edge, he can hear it; he can feel it, and God, he wants to hear you say his name. Every single one of them.
It almost sounds like a mantra, your voice, as he takes and takes and takes, his breathing harsh, ragged.
You go through all of the names you have for him, breathless and wrecked, until you can't even say anything because his hips are snapping into you with a ferocity that's rare but not unwelcome. Your pornographic moans reverberate in your otherwise empty apartment, and Seungcheol thinks he might go insane.
"'M close," you choke out. "Cheollie, baby, I'm— ah, fuck— Seung—"
His breath catches at your words, his eyes closing for a moment as he groans. You, you, in all your perfect, glorious, undone state. It’s a sight he wishes he could capture, freeze in time.
He lets out a whimper, his words almost slurred when he responds. "Love— I—"
He's never been this rough, never this intense. You're the only one, the only person he's ever let himself go like this with. The only person who he's ever let see everything, take everything.
He's on the edge, he's there, he's—
"C'mon," he whines, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand clenching hard around your hip. "With me, love, please."
It's a miracle that you can even nod, can even find your voice as Seungcheol keeps on going with his erratic, stuttering thrusts. "With you," you gasp.
He snaps into you, then, and you arch up with a scream of his name. There’s the familiar white-hot flash of pleasure; the impossibly tight clench of your walls around him.
He stays buried in you for several long moments, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his heart pounding so hard he can feel it in his ears. He has never felt so utterly spent in his entire life, never been so completely, utterly drained of energy. He's weak against you. He’s weak because of you.
"God," he finally manages to mutter.
He lifts his head, just enough to be able to look at you, but he can't even muster a grin. He's spent and he knows you know that.
His hand comes up slightly, to brush the hair off of your forehead. "I think..." he says, his voice thick and hoarse, "I think I ruined you, love."
You let out a breathless laugh, one that you have to push out of your heaving chest. "You—" you try to say, but the words don't form, not at first. You take a few moments to take in some air, to gulp past the lump in your throat. "You're a fool."
His lips twitch into a tired but genuine smile at the sound of your laugh. It’s a soft sound that he's always thought sounds beautiful, especially coming from you.
A hoarse, broken laugh of his own escapes; his hand coming up to rest at your jawline, his thumb gently tracing over the warm skin there. He's still catching his breath, but he's slowly gathering himself.
"Am I a fool?" he asks quietly, leaning his forehead against yours. "What does that make you, then?"
You’re a fool, too, he thinks to himself. For letting me have this.
Instead of answering him, you press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. It’s the only answer he’s going to get from you for now, it seems.
He lets out a soft huff, moving his head back just slightly, his eyes closing. "You're beautiful, you know that?" he says quietly, his voice still rough with fatigue.
"Every time," you respond. Your own voice is strained, almost tired, but there's a hint of amused exasperation. "You say that every time, Cheol."
His eyes opened once again to look at you.
"Because it's true," he says simply, his voice soft and sincere, the hand resting at your jaw moving to brush your hair back from your face. "It's always true, love."
He lets out a soft sigh, his eyes tracing over your face, taking in every inch of you. His eyes pause at your lips for a moment, his tongue gently wetting his own, his gaze finally moving back up to meet your eyes.
You thread your shaking fingers through the back of his hair and answer his unspoken question. "Kiss me soft and easy, Cheol," you whisper.
The moment the words leave your mouth, he's in action.
He leans forward without a second thought, the hand not buried in your hair going to rest on your hip, his lips meeting yours in a soft, gentle kiss.
There's no heat in it, no want or need. Just a soft press of his lips against yours, gentle and slow.
It's languid and unhurried. Like there's nowhere either of you have to be after this. For a moment, you can pretend that this is normal— that Seungcheol will not have to leave, and that you’ll not have to change into new pajamas because he'd broken yours, and that you can be... well, something, anything aside from what you are now.
But it's wishful thinking, you both know, so all Seungcheol can do is kiss you. He lets out a soft sound, almost a sigh, as his tongue slides into your mouth, his hand on your hip tightening slightly. His other hand is in your hair still, his fingers gently tracing over your scalp, his body almost melting against yours.
He will have to leave. He always does. But for now, he's here, with you, and you feel perfect, and—
Five minutes, he bargains. Five more minutes.
And then things end, not really by your own accord.
The sharp, shrill sound of Seungcheol's phone ringing breaks through your haze. You pull away, a bit jolted at the foreign sound— at something other than your words, your breathing, reverberating in the room. It takes you a beat too long to realize someone is calling him— his phone in his discarded jeans— in the godawful middle of the night.
He lets out a loud groan, the sound tired and drawn out, and he can't help but rest his forehead against your shoulder once again, letting out a resigned sigh.
"God, save me," he mutters, his voice rough. "What time is it?"
You chuckle lightly. "Go on," you urge softly, not because you want to but because you have to. "Answer."
Seungcheol lets out another loud, drawn out sigh, his shoulders slumping in obvious defeat. He reluctantly lifts his head from your shoulder with a grumble, but he can't quite stop himself from pressing a kiss to your cheek just before he shifts up and off of the couch.
Once he’s reached down to grab his phone from where it's stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, he answers without looking at the caller ID. "Yeah?"
"Hyung!"
It's Soonyoung— of course it's Soonyoung— calling.
"Are you still at the company?" the younger member asks. "I think I forgot my headset in one of the practice rooms, and Minghao said you didn't go home with them."
"It's midnight, Soonyoung."
You shit over on the couch, careful not to make any sound. Not to give Soonyoung any suspicion that Seungcheol might be somewhere where he shouldn't be. You press a small, reassuring kiss to Seungcheol's hip as Soonyoung goes on to whine, "Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's the expensive headset, hyung. If you're still there, could you check? Please?"
Seungcheol lets out a huff— a mixture of resigned affection and irritation— at the feeling of your lips against his skin. He can feel the exhaustion deep within his bones now, and all he wants to do is go back to snuggling into you for the night.
But he can't say no to Soonyoung, especially not at this time of night.
"Fine," he grumbles, letting out a huff. "Which practice room?"
You can hear the moment Soonyoung practically brightens with triumph.
"Third floor!" he says happily, and you bury your face into Seungcheol's side to keep yourself from laughing. "You're the best, hyung! I'll buy you a meal tomorrow for the trouble!"
He reaches down with the hand not holding his phone, pressing his palm to the top of your head, pushing lightly down. A warning of don't laugh. "Just be thankful I'm your hyung, kid," Seungcheol grouses.
Soonyoung ends the call soon enough, saying some things about sending Seungcheol a photo of his headset so he knows exactly which one is missing. When it's back to just the two of you again, you tilt your head up to look at Seungcheol.
"You're really going back for it tonight?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.
The corner of his lip twitches into a half smile at the way you look up at him. His eyes takein the sight of you— his hand on the back of your head, his fingers gently twisting strands of your hair.
"Of course I am," he sighs. "I can't say no to him, love."
You shift upward so you can sit side by side with Seungcheol. Both of you have yet to put on any clothes, but you’ve at least gathered your bearings enough to form coherent words now.
"You can't say 'no' to any of them," you tease as you press a gentle kiss to his cheek. There's an almost blinding affection in your tone as you say, "You and your goddamn boys."
Seungcheol reaches out, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you closer to him. Briefly, he presses his lips against your hair. His eyes are almost tender as he speaks.
"They're my boys," he says, his voice soft.
You let the words hang there for just a moment. It’s an admission, one that both of you have known for the longest time, but it's also a reminder. It’s the reason why you and Seungcheol can never be more than this—because he has his boys, and he would never do anything to jeopardize them.
You press your face against the column of his neck for just one more precious moment. You’ve never been selfish about Seungcheol, but there were nights when you thought about it. Just… thought about it.
The thought never wins.
"Let’s clean up, get dressed," you whisper into his skin. "So you can head to the company sooner."
He lets out a soft, almost painful exhale. He knows what you're thinking, what you're feeling; he's thought about it himself, as well. He hates having to leave you, hates having to say that he has to leave you. But his boys are his boys, and one day all this will be over, and then...
He can't think about it right now, though.
Instead, he nods, pressing a light kiss to your temple. "Yeah."
It takes about ten minutes or so for you both to gather everything together. Seungcheol still looks tired, though for different reasons now. He’s essentially traded one exhaustion for another.
As he puts on the shoes he left in your entryway, you lean against your doorway with your arms crossed over your chest. "I’ll be holding you accountable for my pajama set," you warn him. "And for tomorrow’s noise complaint."
"Yeah, yeah," he huffs, taking a step toward you. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten."
His face softens as he reaches you, his hands coming up to grab your elbows, gently pulling you closer to him. "Sorry," he says. "Again."
"You’re not sorry, " you sigh pointedly, more out of spite than anything. It’s the truth—he’s not really that apologetic about losing control every now and then, about your neighbors knowing you’re being pulled close every so often.
When you bury your face into his chest, he lets out a low, gruff chuckle, his chin resting gently against the top of your head. His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against him, just like every single time before.
"You’re right," he murmurs. A quiet, affectionate admission. “Not sorry. Not even a little.”
He holds you there against him, his eyes fluttering shut as he allows himself just a few more moments before he has to leave. You both stay there, allowing yourselves that moment, until the tension in Seungcheol’s shoulders fades and your annoyance at your torn pajamas ebbs. It could’ve been five minutes, maybe less, but then Seungcheol’s phone pings with a text—surely Soonyoung asking if he’s found his headset.
You’re the one who takes the step back, putting some distance between you. "Drive safe," you tell Seungcheol. "Text me when you’re there."
Resigned. That’s the only way to describe the smile that tugs at his lips. "Yeah," he says. "I will."
True to his word, Seungcheol does indeed send you a text about an hour or so after he'd arrived at the company, informing you that he was there and had found Soonyoung’s headset.
He's still exhausted, and all he wants is to be back. Back inside of you, back with you. But he can't do any of that. At least, not right now. Not at this point.
I miss you already, is the only other thing he adds to his text.
Your text comes in only moments later, like you had been waiting by your phone.
you're a fool. head home. take care.
A soft sigh escapes him the moment he reads your text, his eyes flickering over the words you'd typed, the harshness of it. It's another layer of protection for the both of you, but it's still not easy to read.
He's about to respond with something snarky, some light-hearted joke to tease you a bit, but he stops himself at the last moment. He knows that you're right.
He needs to head home. He needs to take care.
And he’s an absolute goddamn fool, in more ways than one.
#seungcheol x reader#choi seungcheol x reader#scoups x reader#seungcheol smut#scoups smut#seungcheol imagines#scoups imagines#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#svt smut#seventeen smut#( am i happy with this ? not ... entirely! but it's here! LOL )#( i think i've mentioned once before that i'm not very good at smut so this was dizzying )#( but it's also The longest svt fic i have in my drafts. i just cant be assed [yet] to beta it )#( anyway.... enjoy [???] <3 )#୨ৎ muse .ᐟ svt#୨ৎ penned by ylangelegy
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