#apologies this is late even with being a surprise
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aquacomet · 2 years ago
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Happy surprise (belated) Birthday @bamsara!
Thank you for all the work you put into making DCA art and fics and for sharing them! Solar Lunacy has been a blast to follow over the last year and a bit, I'm looking forward to what comes up next!
(Hope you don't mind the lil' cameos I snuck in there hehe.)
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reiyaus · 2 months ago
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fem reader intended
husband nanami who quit working overtime because he hated seeing you stay up so late- dozing off on the dining table, a warm plate of food waiting for him at 11:37 on a tuesday night.
husband nanami who carries you to bed, making sure you were warm before focusing on getting unready himself. putting your health before his, like always.
husband nanami who make sures to eat the food you’ve prepared for him, appetite or not, because putting your cooking to waste would make him feel even more guilty (if possible).
husband nanami who likes waking up and catching you in the kitchen, dancing to the music while preparing his lunch. sometimes he even sees you taking small samples of his food before stopping yourself from eating the whole thing.
husband nanami who goes to work with his bento inside his bag, staring at it his whole shift and counting the hours until he gets to read what you’ve written him for the day.
husband nanami who stores all your letters inside the first drawer of his desk, rereading them as if they’re motivational quotes on a coffee cup whenever his coworkers and boss start testing his remaining bits of patience.
husband nanami who leaves the office building the moment his shift is over and heads straight to your favorite café, ordering every single one of your favorite pastries- not minding how the number keeps increasing with every beep.
husband nanami who surprises you, freshly out the shower, with a huge bag full of bread you’ve been craving the whole week.
husband nanami who helps you with your post-shower routine while ocassionally feeding you, laughing at how your eyes never left the bag the moment he came home.
husband nanami who makes sure you actually get to sleep before 10 pm, leaving no excuses as he carries you to the bed again, but this time you’re laughing and gripping onto his shoulders.
husband nanami who traps you in his hold, lulling you to sleep as he apologizes for all the times he made you stay up late- sleeping uncomfortably on the table.
husband nanami who gets to sleep another night with your face as the last thing he sees.
and husband nanami who wakes up another morning, with your skin being the first thing he feels.
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maskedbyghost · 4 months ago
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lets continue our talk about situationship!Simon, where this bitch grovels for monthssss
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situationship!simon starts sending you text messages. before you could expect something like "you up?" or "come to my office.", but after you broke things off with him, simon started sending you heartfelt text messages, apologizing for his past behavior. “i’ve been thinking a lot about what happened between us,” he texted one night. “i realize now how much i hurt you, and i’m truly sorry, love. i understand if you need space, but i wanted you to know how much i regret everything.”
along with his messages, simon started sending you small but meaningful gifts. he remembered how you’d joked about his tea obsession once and that you’d mentioned you only liked chamomile. to your surprise, he found the best brand of chamomile tea and even packed it in a nice box before delivering it to your room.
he even started to open up more. during a late-night phone call, where you could clearly hear that he was drunk, simon said that he started seeing a therapist. “i’m workin on understandin my issues and changin for the better. i want to be better, not just for you love, but for myself. i hope you can see that i’m tryin to change.”
when you asked him to stop calling you love, he refused. “i can’t help it. you’re mine in a way no one else could be, and i don’t want to pretend otherwise.”
as simon keeps showing up with gifts and heartfelt messages, you can’t help but wonder if he’s being real or if he’s just trying to win you back before breaking your heart again.
you still go on dates with other people, and simon is tormented every time he sees you leaving the base in those pretty dresses—dresses he wishes were just for him. he follows you, quietly lurking in the corners of the restaurants or bars where you’re out with your dates. oddly enough, most of the guys you go out with either get transferred to another base or stop calling you after just one date, and you’re doing your best not to blame simon for it. but you know it's him. and he is not sorry at all.
almost every day, simon texts you, asking you out on dates and planning special things for the who of you. all you have to do is say yes, but each time, you refuse. it breaks his heart every time, but it also makes him more determined to try even harder. he knows he deserves this treatment from you.
back when you and simon used to train together on base, it was a special routine you both enjoyed. now, you’ve started asking other guys to help you with exercises, and it drives him wild with jealousy. watching their hands on you makes him see red. after your training sessions with them, simon invites these guys to spar with him. it quickly becomes clear that he’s using these sparring matches as a chance to take out his frustration and anger, landing a few extra hits just to make his point.
despite everything, you still won’t budge, and it’s only making simon more frustrated. the truth is, it’s becoming harder and harder for you to resist him. his persistence is wearing you down, and the more he pushes, the more you find yourself struggling to stay strong.
simon invites you to one of his therapy sessions, saying his therapist thinks it would be helpful for him and his progress. during the session, he opens up about his struggles and insecurities, laying everything bare. as he talks, you start to feel sympathy for him. it’s clear he’s determined to change and work on himself, and you see how genuine his efforts are.
one night, you were preparing tea in the kitchen when a girl you know from the base asked for simon’s number. she mentioned she was interested in him, which made you jealous. you snapped at her, making it clear that he would never be interested in a girl like her. simon overheard the whole thing and couldn’t help but smirk to himself. it was clear you still had feelings for him, and he took a bit of satisfaction in that.
later that night he sent one simple message to you: "that's my girl. i belong to you, and you only."
after that message, simon stepped up his game. he started sending you lots of sweet texts and little gifts, and even took care of some of your paperwork. it was hard to ignore how much he was trying, and you found it tougher to resist him as he kept showing you how much he cared.
a few months after managing to ignore simon as best as you could, you caught a nasty cold and were stuck in your room. you only texted price to let him know you needed a few days off because you were sick, and got back in your bed trying to sleep that cold off. a few hours later, as you were still trying to fall asleep, you heard your door open. simon walked in, carrying a bunch of bags, a worried look on his face.
“i came as soon as I could,” simon said, worry in his voice. “i brought you soup and medicine.”
simon didn’t leave your side for days. he only went back to his room to grab more clothes and shower. he was insistent on helping you with everything, even assisting you with your showers in the most respectful way possible of course. he’d sit in a chair next to your bed, and you felt a pang of guilt seeing how much he was giving up for you. you even tried to convince him to go get some rest, but despite your protests, he somehow ended up in your bed, gently spooning you as you slept.
simon would whisper sweet things in your hair, thinking you were asleep. you heard every word as he softly talked about how much he missed you, how sorry he was for everything, and how he wanted to make things right. even though you were sick and exhausted, his words touched you deeply.
once you were feeling better, you found simon sitting alone in a common room, lost in thought. you approached him quietly and gently kissed the side of his face. with a soft smile, you whispered, “take me on that date you promised.”
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@daydreamerwoah
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xochosoxo · 1 year ago
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husband!gojo ✮| headcannons
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gojoxfem!reader
MDNI -> warnings: afab reader (but anyone can read yk), sfw&nsfw, arranged marriage, slight angst, comfort, pet names, flufflufffluff!, cunnilingus, gojo is pussy whipped, fingering, creamycreamycreamiest creampies, reader calls gojo daddy!, tummypushing
a/n: i had a dream abt this with some random guy and when i woke up i was so disappointed :(( LOL angwah heres some quick gojo headcannons bc i truly miss him and im so lonely.
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husband!gojo who you married per each family’s request, making your marriage an arranged one.
husband!gojo who hated the idea of being tied down.
husband!gojo who couldnt wait for the ceremony to end, however when he watched you walk down the aisle, looking so innocent, he felt a tug at his heartstrings.
husband!gojo who didnt know what to do when on your honeymoon. he didnt know whether or not to interact with you or to keep his distance like he promised himself. he decides for the latter.
husband!gojo who enjoys coming to work everyday after his honeymoon because his cute little wife always delivers his lunch to him despite not asking you to.
husband!gojo who starts to soften even more when he sees that you wait for him to come home from work. youre usually sleeping on the couch. he gently scoops you up in his arms and takes you to bed.
husband!gojo who sees that you start getting tired of the routine after a while. making his lunches, waiting for him to come home late. you stop delivering his lunches personally, opting to just give it to him before he leaves in the morning. he doesnt see you when he comes home either.
husband!gojo who makes sure to wash up before slipping into bed with you, wrapping his arms around you . he missed you.
husband!gojo who feels you wake the next morning, obviously confused to see his arms around you. he sighs before bringing you closer to his chest.
husband!gojo who whispers apologies and sweet nothings in your ear as you settle yourself into him with suspicion.
he strokes your head as he says. “im sorry. i know you didnt want this marriage either. im sorry that youve been doing all this alone. i promise ill be here for you. just tell me what you need and i will do everything to help you. youve changed me y/n.”
you look at him, with creased eyebrows, obviously still not trusting him fully.
“ill give you time.” husband!gojo sighs as he lets go of you to get ready for work. you still make him lunch that day.
husband!gojo who comes home and doesnt see you on the couch. he understands that he needs to wait for your response but there is a small part of him that is wondering whether or not you have left.
husband!gojo who sighs in relief when he opens the door to your shared bedroom, seeing you all dolled up in a pretty pj set, sitting comfy on the bed.
husband!gojo who smiles when he sees your face brighten in delight. you walk up to him.
husband!gojo who is surprised when you wrap your arms around him and kiss him with your soft lips. he groans into the kiss, regretting the fact the he never kissed you after the wedding.
husband!gojo who melts to your touch as your bring him to the bed. you remove his jacket and tie as your straddle him, kissing him more harshly.
husband!gojo who makes sure youre okay with with what’s going to happen next. he kisses you again when you say yes.
husband!gojo who takes his sweet time with you. stripping you from your garments,leaving you bare infront of him. he sinks his long fingers into your sopping cunt, your head lolling back in pleasure.
husband!gojo who’s eyes roll back when he finally tastes you. youre addcitive. he laps up your juices, swirling his tongue on your clit. you cum twice on your husband’s tongue, his hands holding your legs apart so they wont close. his fingers continues to scissor you until youre screaming.
husband!gojo who fucks you in missionary position, making sure to watch your face as your react to the pleasure hes giving you.
husband!gojo who cums inside of you only to turn that cum into a creamy mess around your pussy as he pounds into you some more. he can feel his creampie dripping out of you and down his balls.
husband!gojo who enjoys how loud youve become. moaning obscenities and calling him daddy. he wants to fuck you till your dumb!
“fuck princess, youre so fucking messy. fuc—nghh..” he tries to speak but your pussy is squeezing him too well he can barely get words out.
“please daddy!! i need—aghh.. i need you! dont stopp—ahh…” you groan as you have your fourth orgasm of night.
husband!gojo who watches hearts form in your eyes when he cums inside of you for the final time. you can feel his warmth trickling into your womb.
husband!gojo who pulls out and watches his loads flood out of you. he presses on your stomach, watching as more cum gushes out of you.
husband!gojo who brings a warm towel to wipe up the cream around your sex. you moan as he does so, still recovering from all of your orgasms.
husband!gojo who wraps you up into his arms once again, praising you for how well you did.
“you did so good love..” he says stroking your back.
husband!gojo who reminds you that he has fallen in love with you and will do anything and everything in his power to make sure that you are comfortable in this marriage with him.
husband!gojo who knows the two of you will be okay when you peck him on the lips and tell him that you love him.
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bunnis-monsters · 6 months ago
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I hope I'm not too late! For the 5K event (congratulations btw!!! You deserve all of them ^^), could my request be of a merman pod finding reader and deciding she needs to be their mate/breeding partner? I guess it'd be kind of a similar situation with the cow/bull hybrids?? I'm not sure how it'd go, but It can be as sfw or nsfw as you want (I deeply apologize if this exceeds 1k words. Of course you don't have to write this if you don't want to). Thank you in advance! ^^
A/N: my requests and commissions are closed for the foreseeable future, but my commission wait list is open! Consider reading my commission info and helping me out! Slots are limited, so get on the waitlist while you still can~
Warning: dubcon, breeding, virginity loss
It had been a normal day out on the water for you, swimming and splashing around in a small cove near your home.
Unfortunately(or maybe fortunately) for you, it was the spot where a pod of mermen spent their breeding season, relaxing and eating there before going out to try and find a suitable mate.
As you got ready to get out and go grab a snack from your cooler, you felt someone’s eyes on you…
When you turned to look, a head quickly dipped back under the water, and you felt your blood run cold when you spotted several dark shapes swimming in your direction.
Of course you immediately swam for the shore, afraid of it being a shark or some underwater predator. You were alone out there, and if you were eaten no one would ever even know.
Before you could stand to start wading through the now waist deep water, something grabbed your ankle, pulling you under.
You cursed yourself for not bringing your goggles, unable to open your eyes under the stinging, salty sea water.
You prepared for some kind of attack, hoping it wouldn’t be too painful… but nothing happened. Your body was gently lifted out of the water, and you felt something cool and smooth rubbing against your cheek… and your belly… and pretty much every part of your skin.
When you opened your eyes, you were surprised to see that you were surrounded by strange creatures, half human and half fish. They all were nuzzling their cheeks unto your flesh, some giving you soft licks as if inspecting you.
After thoroughly looking over you, they all began purring and trilling, some cooing as they set you on your feet. Getting a better look at them, you realized they were all handsome, and were all smiling as they surrounded you.
“A female in our cove? What luck!”
You were surprised when one of the creatures spoke, even more surprised when another responded with soft trills and clicks.
“Yes, she is quite warm… and so soft!”
The feeling of cool scales rubbing against your thigh made you yelp. One of their tails was curling around you, keeping you close and still.
“H-hey! What do you think you’re doing!?”
They all flinched when you raised your voice, their fins perking up. Some looked at you curiously, while some seemed a bit annoyed or afraid.
“Mmm? We’re preparing to breed with you. It’s not often a female is so close to our cove while it’s mating season.”
You nearly fainted, this was all too much. First you were having to accept the fact that mermen were real, which was hard enough by itself.
Now, these mermen that you just learned actually existed wanted to breed with you.
Another merman pressed against your back, letting out a soft coo as something sticky and hard slipped and rubbed between your thighs.
There was one in front of you as your thighs were fucked from behind. He examined your bathing suit, talking his head and pulling at the fabric curiously.
“Something to cover your mating slit? Perhaps human females are more cunning than I thought…”
He seemed to view the fabric as a separate layer of skin, his weighed fingers moving to trace over your clothed pussy.
The merman’s eyes went wide, and his finge red pressed against your clothed hole. “Warm… so warm…”
The feeling of his cool, webbed fingers moving over your warm pussy made you shiver and buck your hips uncontrollably. This made the merman purr in delight.
“Y-you can remove it… it’s clothing,” you said, panting softly. Honestly, it had been so long since you’ve really pleasured yourself, and you desperately wanted to get fucked stupid.
Your bathing suit was unceremoniously ripped off, and the pod gathered around you.
There were whines and hisses, each merman fighting over who got to breed you first.
It was finally settled that they would go from smallest to largest. A merman, a bit younger than the rest approached you shyly. He was excited, this would be his first time breeding!
He chirped at you, giving you puppy dog eyes as his cock bobbed up and down in need. It seemed this one couldn’t speak, possibly being new to human speech.
“Go on, just inhale her scent and your instincts will take over,” one of the merman said, encouraging the other as he placed a hand on your thigh.
His face buried itself in his neck, and as soon as he inhaled your scent his body stiffened and pressed against you.
The feeling of his cock struggling to find your hole, rubbing against you desperately made your heart throb. This merman was too cute!
You loved your hand down, the man letting out a nervous yet aroused trill when you helped to guide his cock to your entrance.
“There you go, baby… r-right there…”
He nuzzled his cheek against yours, the flesh slightly rough against your soft skin.
The second he sunk his cock into your cunt, he let out a groan, unable to stop his hips from rutting into you roughly.
You but your lip, trying not to make too much noise. The other merman moved in closer to watch, and they all seemed to communicate with the one mating with you.
“Warm? You said she’s warm there?”
“Oh… cum already, I want a turn!”
The first merman came, relaxing against you as your pussy was filled with his cum. The next was eager to get a feeling of your pussy, pushing the other out of the way before pushing in.
“Nngh… w-warm…” he gasped out, his body hands trembling as they grasped your plump hips.
None of them were used to fucking into something so soft and warm, mermaid were usually cold and rough… but god you were the complete opposite.
It was a breeding frenzy after that, each desperate to get their turn fucking that fat, warm pussy of yours. The sound of wet squelching and shameful moans and cries echoing through the cove.
After each had a turn, they returned you to the shore, leaving you with a freshly caught fish before they left to go hunt.
“We’ll be back by nightfall, mate!”
“Don’t enter the water until we’re home! We don’t want our scents attracting other competing males!”
They waved to you as they swam away… and you were looking forward the summer with your new pod of mates.
part 2? might make a little series based off this concept where you meet each merman and get to know them!
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NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @buckoothecow @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila
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ceilidho · 2 months ago
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Buttermilk
It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au
Part 2 | masterlist
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Sweat beads on your brow as summer approaches its zenith. Its hottest point. You splurge on an iced caramel latte from the gas station on the way over and pick one up for John as well. Your arm is already stretched out when he opens the front door to let you in, offering it to him. 
“I, uh…thought you might want one as well,” you explain, stuttering through your words. Crumbling under his amused expression. 
You crave it though. His approval. That fond smile that seems reserved especially for you. The rare murmured good girl, his hand sometimes coming down to ruffle your hair. Even the memory of it makes your breath get lodged in your throat. You covet every crumb of it.
He takes the iced latte from you though before heading out for the day. Gift received. Even squeezes your shoulder in thanks before he shuts the door behind him, and you manage to keep from swooning until you hear his car pull out of the driveway. 
You stand by the window with the baby pressed to your chest for so little that you can’t blame when a little fist tugs at your hair. 
“Sorry, lovie,” you whisper into his fuzzy hair. Inhale deeply. 
It’s not as though you’re starved for things to do. Were John’s son a few years older, you might have your work cut out for you, but there’s still plenty to do around the house even when you put the baby down for his morning nap. You save the vacuuming for when baby is awake and you’re not in danger of hearing him suddenly start crying through the baby monitor, but you dust and fold laundry and start the dishwasher and take the recycling out and by the time the baby is ready for lunch, you’ve already broken a light sweat. 
Let no one tell you that babysitting is a walk in the park.
That being said, you do put the baby in his stroller for a walk in the park after lunch. 
The park isn’t terribly far from John’s house, so coupled with the short path around the park and the walk back, you’ll get a good amount of steps in today without risking the baby being late for his mid afternoon nap. 
It’s hard to not have an accidental, forbidden thought. Something like I wonder if anyone thinks I’m the baby’s mom when you push the stroller past a group of moms gathered together near the jungle gym, their kids sprinting on wobbly legs and climbing like dexterous little wildlings. 
Those thoughts are dangerous though, best kept under wraps. Clandestine. Because once you start having those thoughts, they never really go away; they just get relegated to a part of your brain that switches on when the lights go off and you think about what it must have been like to carry a baby in your stomach for nine months. 
You’re in danger, girl, a small voice in your head warns you. It’s hard to hear her clearly these days. 
John comes earlier for once, around midday. It takes you by surprise. You jump when the door opens, the sound ricocheting off the walls like a gunshot and, in that same second, a wave of terror and rage washes over you, your heart already racing at the thought of someone breaking in while it’s just you and the baby home. You spring to your feet, hands already trembling by your sides, and then his familiar shape walks into the room, boots still on and all.
He pauses when he sees your shoulders slump with relief. 
“Sorry,” you breathe, heart still racing. “I thought you were…” Your voice trails off towards the end because you don’t know how to say it without sounding silly. 
His eyes cut to the baby in the bouncy chair behind you, your body still stood protectively in front of him, and then they soften. 
“No, that’s on me—should’ve given you a ring before I left,” he says, a light apology in his voice. He throws his keys into the bowl in the foyer before stalking towards you. You stare up at him wide eyed, only blinking when he ruffles your hair before bypassing you to go pick up his son. 
“How’s my baby?” he asks, pressing a kiss to the baby’s milksoft cheek, and your heart spins and cartwheels in your chest. All sorts of tricks that keep you rooted in place, unable to manage a single word. “You been good today?”
I’ve been good, you almost croak out, the words on the tip of your tongue. You swallow. Force them back down. You’re not his baby. 
Another dinner invitation that you can’t turn down. Not because it wouldn’t be polite but because you couldn’t muster up the will to refuse even if you really did have plans. Lucky that you don’t. 
When he puts the baby down to sleep for the night, you linger by the door, sure you’re a platitude or two away from being shown out for the night. John calls your name from the kitchen though, drawing you deeper into the house again. 
“Go put something on,” he instructs when you idle under the archway of the door. With his back to you, you can’t make out the expression on his face, leaving you no choice but to gawp at the undulation of his shoulder muscles as he washes out the dishes before stacking them in the dishwasher. “You want something to drink?”
“Just, uh—” you rasp, clearing your throat. “Just juice, thanks.”
You can’t settle on anything to stream, nothing perking your interests; or maybe you’re just too antsy to make an informed decision on what to watch right now. 
There are other things to worry about. Like John moving around in the other room or the way your denim shorts ride up when you sit down, bunching up at the crotch. You make an attempt to lift your hips and pull them back down as much as you can, but you panic and abort your plan when John comes into the room, embarrassed at the thought of being caught readjusting yourself. 
The cushion under you bounces slightly when John drops himself down onto the couch beside you, the motion making your shorts ride up even more. You wince when the seam presses tight against your clit, on the edge of mildly painful and turning you on. 
“Here, sweetheart,” he says, putting his own drink down on the coffee table before handing you your glass of juice. 
“Thanks,” you bleat, taking a sip almost instantly to mask the look on your face, afraid he’ll read the panic there and press for details. 
He sits closer than usual, as he always does these days. It’s not something you ever discuss. It just seems to happen. Slowly, like ice sheets drifting over water. One day you’re sitting on opposite sides of the couch and the next he’s all up in your space, thigh to thigh with you while the living room goes dark and the TV glows, the reflection throbbing against the glass. An ever-flickering light that illuminates the side of his head when you peer up at him.
Your tongue rests against the roof of her mouth, dry; sparing.
With his arm resting on the back of the couch over your shoulder, the scent of him is almost smothering. Each inhale makes your head spin. If you were to tilt your head to the side, you’d be level with his armpit, his scent strongest there, and that thought spins in your head like a merry-go-round until someone in the movie you’re supposed to be watching shouts, dragging your attention back to it. 
“Christ, these are little, huh?” John grunts, suddenly reaching over to pinch the frayed ends of your shorts between his fingers. “This what the kids these days are wearing?” 
You don’t know how to respond to that. Your body’s so hot that you feel like you’re swimming in heat, sweat prickling at your hairline and on the back of your neck. 
“I-it’s hot out,” you stutter, your whole body suddenly hot. With how high your shorts have ridden up, his fingers are precariously close to your core, just a hairsbreadth from skimming up your inner thigh and brushing against your folds, now plump and sensitive. 
You wonder if he can make out the outline of your pussy from underneath your shorts. They hug into the seam of your legs, pinching the skin of your inner thighs. You don’t dare glance down. 
He hums, pulling his hand away and you stare wide eyed at the television in front of you when you shift and the glide between your legs tells you just how wet you are. Sitting on the couch next to your boss twice your age with a wet pussy. 
You lean forward to try and readjust, masking the movement by reaching blindly for your glass on the coffee table at the same time. You must pick up the wrong glass by accident though because when you go to lift it to your lips, John’s hand stops you, fingers curling around yours and easily tugging the glass away from your mouth. 
“No, baby, that’s mine; bit young for a drink, aren’t you?” John chuckles, eyes squinting with his smile. 
“I’m legal,” you frown, pouting. 
He acts like that sometimes; like he doesn’t keep track of how old you are. 
“All right, but only a sip, got it?” he cautions, handing you the glass. 
You don’t know why you take it. You would’ve been better admitting to your mistake and putting the glass back down. 
He chuckles when you wince on your sip, nearly spitting it up. Horrifically embarrassing because it’s not like you’ve never had a drink before. You’ve gone out for drinks plenty of times with friends. 
“Yeah,” he rasps, taking the glass from you and flicking his knuckle against your bottom lip as he does. “That’s what I thought.”
And it happens again and again. Head resting on his shoulder when you drift off on the couch before he shakes you awake. In the grocery store, he comes up behind you while you’re pushing the cart and puts his arms around to steer you down another aisle, his broad chest pressed against your back. 
You hold your tongue. Bite off and chew the words. Because it’s nothing; it’s innocent. You’ve known from the get-go that John is more of a man of action than words. If anything, you’re the one reading too much into things. Little touch-starved girl from the bad side of town. It’s not his fault that you preen when he praises you; that you bunt your head against his hand when he ruffles your hair. Every drop of affection soaked up, savoured. Nourishing your heart and your soul. So lonely, so wanting. All those years holed up on your own, no warm body in the bed beside you. 
Then John Price waltzed in and you expected to keep everything sealed up tight in your chest.
So it’s no wonder you gorge yourself on his touch and hope he doesn’t notice the way you lean into it. The rabbit-quick beat of your heart. Your want simmering under your skin, a disgusting, base thing desperate for gentleness. 
You wonder if he sees the same thing when he looks at you.
In the heat of summer, John invites you to join him and the baby for a weekend at the beach in Portugal.
You only say yes because it’s the dog days of summer. At the beach, there’ll be umbrellas to sit under and beer coolers of cold drinks and the ice cold Atlantic to swim in. Plus, you’ve had little opportunity in your life to travel—you’ve barely stepped foot in France, never mind Portugal. But John has friends with a house in the Algarve that have graciously offered him the week, so who are you to say no to such a thoughtful gesture? 
The only reason you consider not going is because you can’t shake the sense of foreboding. 
“Baby, can you get my back?” John asks when you arrive at the beach the first day of your trip, and when you turn back to him, you have to act quick to catch the sunscreen lobbed your way. 
That’s how you find yourself kneeling in the sand behind him, rubbing sunscreen on his back. His shoulders flex under your hands, and you can feel the muscle bunching and relaxing with each swipe across his shoulder blades. The worst is when you get to his low back. John’s groans are obscenely loud, guttural rumblings from the back of his throat. Ravenous. 
“Okay, that’s everything,” you chirp, rubbing the excess off on your thighs. 
“Good,” John says, twisting around. “Now it’s your turn.”
Your eyes widen.
“Wait—I don’t need to—”
You don’t know quite how he manages it, but a couple minutes later, you find yourself lying flat on your stomach on your beach towel, John squirting a good amount of sunscreen onto the middle of your back. All you get as a warning is the sunscreen bottle tossed to the ground beside your head before two big hands come down to your back to massage the cream into your skin. 
There’s nowhere for you to go when John throws a leg over your hips to straddle you. He holds the majority of his weight off you, but despite his best efforts, you can still feel his dick against your ass, his loose swim shorts doing nothing to hold him in place. 
He doesn’t ask for permission before undoing the knot holding your bikini top together, one quick pull and then the garment loosens around your chest. You can feel the fabric pool around you on the towel. 
“John, you—” you start, almost coming up onto your elbows before realizing that your top won’t be coming with you if you do. 
“Just gotta make sure I get your whole back, baby,” he reassures you, both hands gliding up your back to curve around your shoulders before dragging back down. “Won’t be more than a minute.”
It’s no use calling him out on the lie because there’s nothing you could do even if you did.
With hands as big as his, his fingers can’t help brushing the sides of your tits every time he smooths his hands down your back. You bite your lip nearly raw to keep from letting your moans escape, toes curling in the sand underneath you and thank god John is facing the other way or else your arousal would be clear as day to him. The gusset of your bathing suit is already damp and you haven’t even gotten in the water yet. 
His hands drag up and down your back, lathering the lotion into your skin, massaging it into the muscle. Each pass of his hands making your eyes roll back, breath coming out in choppy pants. Tweaking when the palms of his hands easily encompass your shoulders, nearly tickling under your arms.
“There we go. All done,” he announces, jolting you out of the lustful fog you’d slipped into during his ministrations. 
“All good?” you ask, a touch breathy. 
“Mhm,” John rumbles, smoothing a hand up your back one last time, just to double check. Only clenching your fists until the skin around your knuckles tighten keeps you from shuddering at his touch. “Lemme just—” 
Your throat constricts when you feel him reknot the back of your bikini top, fingers quick and deft for their size. He’s tied knots before. It’s better not to let that thought sink in too deep. 
Turning over onto your back takes a near insuperable amount of energy, the rest wrung from your body by the hands now preoccupied with readjusting his shorts. 
“You alright if I take him for a swim?” John asks, holding his squirming son against his bare chest. 
You wave him off, a hand coming up to shield your eyes from the sun. 
You can’t help but stare at his ass as he walks away, practically mesmerised. In the water, he wades up to his knees with his son still cradled in one arm. The ocean water laps at his shins, dappled with light, low waves in the distance scintillating at their peaks. The ends of his swim shorts cling to his legs as the water leaches into the fabric. 
Trying to keep your eyes off him is a losing game, not when John’s clad in nothing more than a pair of swim trunks, broad shoulders and chest on display, and now your hands tingle with the memory of how they felt rubbing suntan lotion over his skin. His trunks are pulled taut around thick thigh muscles, just barely loose enough to keep from being indecent. 
The panic returns when you catch some nearby women ogling him, one angling her body towards him like she’s considering walking over, and that’s when your heart beats too fast and you stumble to your feet, leaving your beach towel and umbrella behind to go join John in the water. 
“Hey sweetheart,” he greets when you’re only a few steps away, shivering when the cold water touches your feet. “Missed us, did ya?”
He reels you in with his free arm, pulling you into his side before transferring the baby into the cradle of your arms. Doesn’t even flinch when your breast is pressed against his side, as if it’s nothing out of the ordinary. As if your cheek wasn’t nearly flush with the pelt of dark hair growing in whorls on his chest, your eye level with a dark, flat nipple. 
The girls hovering nearby scrunch their noses up when they notice you snuggled up against John’s chest. Assuming you must be someone special for him to be holding you that way; like a girlfriend or a wife—
You choke off the rest of that thought before it can take root. 
The rest of the trip is no better. You’re a right mess made worse by the cloying heat and the forced proximity. At the restaurant, John pulls your chair out for you and then sits right beside you, arm resting on the back of your chair while he talks, cologne clotting the air around you. He’s popular wherever he goes—easy candour and winsome smile able to make anyone, from the servers to the other patrons, want to get to know him better. 
All you can do is bask in the radiance; a sun in the middle of any room. 
Back at the house, you sleep in the other room, only a single, flimsy wall between your room and John’s. The walls are so thin that you can hear every groan and snore and snuffle, head ringing with his sounds until you fall asleep and they permeate your dreams instead. 
At seven in the morning, you wake to the sound of him rolling over in his bed, the mattress squeaking under his weight, and taking himself in hand. The sound of flesh against flesh; the groans bitten off too late for you not to catch them, sweat beading on your hairline as you stare at the white wall and picture John on the other side, big chest panting with his breaths as he tugs on his cock. You listen until his final groan, fingers petting at your clit until you have no choice but to turn your head into your pillow to muffle your sobs. 
As best as you try to put it out of mind, you can’t meet his eyes at breakfast. 
You flinch when the same hand that he must’ve used to jerk himself off comes down onto the top of your head when John goes to refill his mug of coffee. “Sleep well last night?” he asks, deep voice still coated in sleep. 
“Not bad,” you whisper. 
Shivering when he drops his hand to the junction between your shoulder and your neck and gives it a squeeze.
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unriding · 3 months ago
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KINKTOBER DAY 13 — DRY HUMPING. alexis ness x f!reader ノ it’s not allowed. he knows this, but he can’t help that it gets a little harder not to claim you as his whenever you come back for more.
CONTAINS — dry humping to wall sex, dirty / filthiest talk at the end, marking, possessiveness, mentions of fingering, face sitting, as well as overstim; secret / prohibited relationship, mentions of multiple creampies
ᘏ explicit smut (18+) — link to sign up for my taglist & to view mlist!
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Ness isn’t supposed to be up this late. At this hour, he should be fast asleep with his teammates, rested and prepared for tomorrow’s game. Or in this case, today’s.
The very last thing he should be doing is grabbing your hips to move you back and forth along his cock even harder. You yelp, and he twitches— throbs and smacks against your clit, and the gasp that slips out of you and goes directly into his ear almost makes him cum on the spot.
You had originally told Ness that this would be a one time thing. This kind of relationship just couldn’t be allowed in a place like this. Only one time— and the two of you would go back to being acquaintances the next morning. Like nothing ever happened.
How this managed to become a weekly thing between the two of you is beyond your own understanding. You think that by now, he’s forgotten about the deal all together from the way he gets a little greedier each time he sees you.
The first time, it was only a quick peck against the corner of your mouth. The next time, there was a little bit of tongue.
Last time, it was a series of kisses trailing down your neck and chest.
And today? He’s marking you.
“Sorry,” he rushes out another apology before his lips are back on your neck, and he sucks. Hard. Your eyes widen and thighs clench around his own to suppress the sound that threatens to slip. “Just can’t— can’t seem to stay quiet today. Sorry. Sorry— ‘m trying.”
It’s impossible. No matter how many times it echoes in his head to be quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. Quiet. His mouth doesn’t want to stay shut. Not when your cunt is rubbing up and down his length so desperately.
You feel so good. It’s dizzying. Electrifying. The friction is numbing, and the heat— you’re always so warm. And soft. And absolutely perfect for him. He’s been so, so badly wanting to leave a mark on your neck, just to see how the others will react once they realize who’s been giving you that afterglow so early in the morning.
It’s him— it’s always been him.
He’s the one spending the early hours in the morning with you every week. Chalks it up to a different type of warm-up. He’s the one that lets you ride his face until you gush all over him. The one that lays you across his lap with one hand clamped over your mouth and the other three fingers deep in your cunt to draw a second orgasm from you. The one that lets you use him for your own pleasure— rub your pussy back and forth along his cock until you can’t even stand on your own anymore.
That— all of that— was all him. And he wants them to know. That’s why the second you take a fistful of his hair in your hand and pull, it’s right then and there that he feels his last shred of composure crumble away.
Just once couldn’t hurt.
“N-Ness?!” You squeal when he suddenly picks you up, big arms hooking under your thighs before your back is being pressed against the wall. “Sorry. I’m— just once. Just one time. Please? It’s aching. You’re so warm, please. Please. I need to be inside.”
To his surprise, you agree in a heartbeat. It only serves as fuel to feed his ego a little more, convince himself that nobody else could make you feel as good as he does.
And he’d make sure of it.
He slips inside with little resistance. Bottoms out and the tip kisses your cervix perfectly. You’re so soaked, so warm and desperate to be filled— and he apologizes once again, this time for not giving it to you sooner.
“I’ll make you feel so good,” he’s panting against your chest now, gasping when you hold him tighter against you. If you feel the sweat collecting along his temples, you don’t seem to notice or mind. You only tell him to move faster, go harder and stop holding back so much— and he practically growls at the suggestion. “I will. I will. Just hold tight. Hold tight okay? I can’t— can’t seem to stop. It’s okay, right? You’re okay?”
You only manage to nod with the relentless pace he’s set against you. Barely able to do anything besides cling onto him and squeal, muster up every ounce of strength left in your body to wrap your legs around his body and let him take you the way you should’ve asked him to ages ago.
“Feels so good. Just have to give you everything. If I fill you up, will you leave it inside? Leave it for me, and I’ll clean you up later. After my game.”
Your walls clench around him in response, and he only seems to slam even deeper inside you. Leave it inside? Give the players water bottles with his load dripping between your thighs? Sit and wait for them on the benches and let it form a puddle beneath you?
Just the thought alone drives him to the edge.
“Yeah. Yeah. It sounds nice. If it drips down your legs, don’t bother hiding it, okay? I’ll make sure to give you a new load later. Fill you up until it overflows and spills out all over again. Again and again. Just wait for me. I’ll make it good— I’ll make you feel so, so good.”
“You won’t even believe it.”
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headkiss · 1 year ago
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pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader
summary: you and aaron are friends with feelings more obvious than you think. or: 5 times the team suspects you and hotch are dating +1 time they know it.
word count: 6.6k
warnings: friends to lovers, the team being a little nosy, pining idiots!!!, probably inaccurate descriptions of bau jobs (for the plot!), a very small injury, a birthday, a first kiss, and fluff!
a/n: hiii this one has been a long time coming so thank you guys for being so patient with me!!! and special thanks to the anon who requested this one! i hope u guys enjoy it and please please let me know what you think <3 ily
Aaron Hotchner was never someone you thought you could be this close to.
Coming to the BAU, you’d been intimidated more than anything. As Unit Chief, he’s got a reputation that’s hard to ignore. Professional, brave, cold when he has to be. His success and talent were undeniable, and all you wanted to do was prove that you belonged there, too.
Then, you really met him, and he surprised you in a way you hadn’t expected. Hotch was kind right off the bat, welcoming you to the team with a smile that felt like some sort of prize.
He was an excellent boss. Understanding and protective, quick to defend anyone on the team like they were his own family. Except, he was so much more than just your boss.
Now, you’d call him your closest friend, someone who’s number you’d call if you were in trouble. He’s your closest friend and yet you feel so much more for him.
It started slow, a friendship blooming the way a plant does with just enough sunlight. It was a shared smile here, a nudge of the shoulder there. It grew to be a seat next to him reserved for you on every plane ride.
Today, it’s eating lunch with him in his office.
Aaron usually works through lunch, more eager to get things done than he is to worry about skipping a meal. Somehow, with two tupperware containers in your hand and a sweet smile, you’d managed to get him to take a break.
“Whatcha doing?” You’d asked.
Hotch looked up from his paperwork then, dropping his pen because you were in his doorway. “You know, Unit Chief business. Reports.”
“Sounds like you have time for lunch, then.” You set the containers down on his desk, making sure to avoid the papers he’d just been working on.
“I should really get this done-”
“Hotch,” you stopped him, “you and I both know that you’re always ahead on this stuff because you stay here so late. Lunch won’t set you back.”
With a shake of his head and the biting back of a smile, a simple twitch at the corners of his mouth, Aaron agreed and stacked his paperwork off to the side.
That’s how you’ve ended up in the chair that’s usually on the opposite side of his desk, only now it’s tugged to be next to his. Your knees touch every so often when one of you shifts, and the warmth stays with you even when the contact is gone.
“Sorry it’s nothing fancy,” you say as he opens the container you brought for him.
“Don’t apologize. It’s great.” Hotch has a way of saying things that make them sound true, no matter how few words he uses, so you accept it.
“Okay, good!” There’s a small silence, a lull as you both take your first bites. “Can I help with anything?”
Aaron looks from the paperwork to your face, your eyes already on his. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” you reassure him. “I think sometimes you forget that you aren’t the only one who can do this stuff.”
He knocks his knee against yours. Purposeful this time. A silent ‘thank you.’
“Like you said, I’m ahead anyways. I’ve got it.”
“Come on, Hotch. I’m already done with my report from our last case. I’ve got time. Let me help.”
He’s always been reluctant to accept help, to ask for it, but when you’re asking so sweetly, when it’ll give him an excuse to spend more time with you, it’s hard for Aaron to say no.
“Alright. You help for an hour, that’s it.”
You grin at him, like his acceptance of your offer was some kind of gift he’d given you. Your nose crinkles a little with it, and his hand flexes in his lap, like he’s fighting not to reach out to you.
“Okay, put me to work, boss.”
“We just started lunch,” he says, a little chuckle puffing out.
“Have you ever heard of multitasking, Agent Hotchner?”
Aaron laughs, shaking his head as he reaches for one of the files in the stack he’d made and hands it to you. He’d call everyone at the BAU a friend, but there’s something different, something more about how he’d describe you.
He’s grown closer to you than he usually lets himself get to people, like you’re the only one with the right tools to break through walls he’s put up. You see each other outside of work (on the rare days you aren’t working), and still, he feels like it’s never long enough.
Hotch briefly wonders if he could just move your desk into his office. He shakes off the thought and what it might mean.
Head bent, you’re now focused on the work he gave you, and Aaron takes the chance to admire you. His eyes flick over your profile, the light hitting your cheeks, the flutter of your eyelashes every time you blink.
As if you could feel his gaze on you, you turn towards him and smile—a small, closed-mouth smile, but a smile all the same—before turning your attention back to the page.
When you take a pause and take another bite of your lunch, a small drop of sauce lands on your thigh. “Oh, shit.”
Aaron grabs a tissue from the box on his desk, wrapping it over his fingertip before wiping the small spot from your leg, his finger a spark against you even through your pants.
“Good thing you wore black,” he says, tossing the tissue in the garbage. His hand, however, stays on your leg, and though the touch is light the weight of it feels the opposite. Heavy, huge.
“Good thing you’re here to clean up after me, more like.”
Your eyes meet, and you share a smile with Hotch the way you often do. Mid-conversation, across a room, it’s a smile you sort of reserve for each other.
In the main office below, Derek, Spencer, and JJ stand together, watching the interaction through the window into Hotch’s office. You and Aaron seem to be in your own bubble, completely unaware of your small audience.
“They’ve gotta be together,” Derek is the first to speak, waving a hand towards the office where you and Hotch are talking. “I mean, come on.”
“I don’t know,” JJ shrugs, “they both seem kinda clueless.”
“We probably shouldn’t speculate about them,” Spencer, always the sweetheart, says. “But, statistically, Hotch never eats lunch. Just saying.”
JJ pats Reid on the shoulder, huffing out a laugh before she heads back to her desk.
You stay in Aaron’s office much longer than an hour that day.
-
Punctuality is important in the BAU. Really, if you’re not early, you’re late. You’ve always got to be ready, wheels up in ten, or five.
You suppose that doesn’t really apply to outside-of-the-office parties at Garcia’s.
It’s rare that you’re all available at the same time, from late nights at the bureau to families, it’s tough to make your schedules line up when you aren’t working, which is why whenever she can, Penelope likes to host drinks for the team.
You’re on your way there now, or, you should be. Instead, you’re getting ready in your bedroom while Aaron waits in your living room.
Hotch has offered to drive you to these things every time, and with every offer, comes your easy answer of ‘yes.’ He’d been outside in his car for five minutes before he decided to call, because you’re usually in his passenger seat within seconds of him pulling over by your building.
The ringing of your phone had your eyes blinking open, squinted against the sudden brightness of your TV. You’d accidentally fallen asleep, and, still disoriented, picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, everything okay?” It’s Aaron’s voice on the other line, and you pull your phone away for a second to check the time before sitting up quickly.
“Shit, Hotch, I must’ve fallen asleep. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s alright, I can wait for you.” He’d wait as long as you need, he thinks. The thought passes through like a leaf blown in the wind, freely, randomly.
“Have you been waiting long?” You ask, fingers tugging at a loose thread in your pants.
“No, don’t worry. Barely five minutes.”
And he still wanted to check on you.
“Why don’t you come in? My couch is probably more comfortable than your car, right?”
“You sure?” He checks, like he hasn’t been to your place before, like you’d ever not want him there.
“Get in here, Hotchner.”
You hung up before he could reply, and he laughed to himself in his car before shutting it off and doing exactly what you’d told him.
So, now, you’re rushing to find an outfit while Aaron sits on your couch by himself.
Even though he’s in the next room, you can feel his presence around you, the steady security he gives you, the warmth that seeps out of him even when he tries to hide it.
You settle on a knitted sweater, a skirt, and some tights, which you realize as you tug them on aren't the speediest of options, but it’s too late to change your mind now. With your hair figured out and the mascara that had smudged during your nap fixed, you step back out into the living room.
Aaron made himself at home while you were gone (he often feels that way with you, at home), sitting on your couch with his arms spread across the back. He looks better than he should there, suit stretched across his shoulders, and you have to clear your throat to snap yourself out of it.
“Okay, sorry again for the delay. I’m ready to go.”
He looks up as soon as you walk in, eyes skimming over your legs and the tights wrapped around them, your waist, up your neck. His gaze lands on your eyes the way it often does, like magnets.
He shakes his head, “don’t be sorry. We’ll be what they call ‘fashionably late.’”
You laugh, because who would’ve thought that the words ‘fashionably late’ would ever come out of Aaron Hotchner’s mouth.
“Who taught you that one, huh?”
“I like to keep my sources anonymous.”
“Well okay, then. Let’s go be fashionably late, Hotch.”
He lets you lead the way to the car, only jogging up ahead to open your door before you can reach it yourself.
During the drive to Penelope’s, you take control of the music with little objection from Aaron, and when it gets to a song you know he likes, you sing along, encouraging him to do the same.
“Let’s hear it, Agent Hotchner.” You hold your fist out like there’s a microphone in it, looking at him with a grin on your face.
“I can't sing.” Aaron’s fighting off a smile, because you’re sitting beside him, not too shy to sing along, being all cute and, briefly, he thinks about reaching out and grabbing your hand and holding on.
“Sure you can! Everyone can sing, come on.” You unfurl your faux microphone-holding fist and tug on the knot of his tie, “loosen up a little.”
And, because you have some way of convincing him of things—first lunch, now this—he humors you by joining in for one chorus of the song. When your eyes light up a little, and your grin only widens, he can’t bring himself to be too concerned of how bad he probably sounds.
By the time you’re at Garcia’s door you’re a solid hour late, yet you and Aaron walk up to the door with matching smiles all the same.
“I’m getting you to do that every time I hear that song now, I hope you know.”
“That was a one time special,” he says. He reaches over your shoulder to knock on the door. His hand brushes against you, featherlight and quick, a crackle over your skin.
On the other side, Morgan says, “must be the lovebirds” when he hears the sound.
You and Aaron don’t hear him, only broken out of your little shared bubble when Penelope opens the door. “There you guys are! I made your drinks but the ice might be melted by now. You know, ‘cause you’re late.”
You know this is directed towards you more than it is Hotch, because Garcia’s a little intimidated by him still. You also know she’s only joking, and greet her with a hug before stepping in.
Aaron isn’t far behind you, though at these things, he never is.
You’re met with warm greetings from the team when you walk in, and you chat for a bit, but it isn’t long before things split off into smaller conversations. They all know that Aaron drives you to these things, and, as profilers, they’re also all able to see the way you look at each other, the way the knot of his tie sits lower than usual.
In the corner, Emily leans over to Derek, saying, “usually it takes at least two drinks for Hotch’s tie to look like that.”
“I told you, they’re together,” Derek shrugs.
“I don’t think they know that,” Emily replies.
This time, Aaron hears them, and he can’t help but look towards you in the room the rest of the night, thinking and thinking and thinking.
He ends up deciding that they might have a point. That maybe, that shift in his heartbeat when you’re around isn’t nothing, isn’t just friends.
-
The flight home from a case always feels the longest.
On the way there, you’re packing every hour with information about what’s going on, talking to Garcia, reading police reports. You’re all on edge, eager to get out there and help and do your jobs,
Then, on the way home, with another case solved, all you’re thinking about is going home, sleeping in your own bed, and time seems to go slower.
If your name happens to be Aaron Hotchner, you’d spend the plane ride home doing paperwork that actually can wait.
You and Aaron sit next to each other on pretty much every flight, though the seats have never been assigned. It’s an unspoken thing, like your names are written on the fabric of the same two seats on the jet and that’s just the way it is.
The first time was early on in your time on the team. It was a tough case for you, and Hotch seemed to know it without you having to say anything, so, when you got on the jet to come home, he smiled that small, twitch of his lips smile at you and nodded at the seat next to him. You’ve been sitting there ever since.
Today, your flight is on the shorter side, but feels long the way it always does. Trying to keep yourself occupied, you pull out your earbuds and shuffle your playlist, hoping that the songs will speed things up.
“Sick of me already?” Hotch speaks up when he notices your headphones.
You tilt your head to look at him. He looks tired, the way you’re sure you do, too, but never any less handsome. His eyes are soft where they meet yours, paired with a hint of a smile that you’re always able to catch.
“Sick of you, Hotch? Never.” You nod at the file he has open on the small table, “just didn’t want to distract you.”
“I thought you enjoyed distracting me. Always telling me I work too much.”
“‘Cause it’s true,” you say. “That doesn’t mean you listen.”
“I listen to you more than I listen to most people.” Aaron’s voice is gentle when he says it, the words sinking in and melting you just a little, sugary sweet. It could mean absolutely nothing, but with the way he keeps his eyes steady on yours, you don’t think it does.
“Listen to this, then,” you hand him one of your earbuds, and his fingers brush yours when he takes it from you. “But you can’t make fun of me if a musical soundtrack comes on, okay?”
“Okay,” he huffs a small laugh, and you feel a little brighter. “I promise.”
You’re aware of the team having their own conversations in the rows in front of you and Hotch, but you can’t bring yourself to join in, because you and Aaron are sharing your earbuds and his head is bent just a little closer to yours. It’s delicate, and you’ll do your best not to break it.
You talk a little longer, until it naturally fizzles out and Hotch is back to working on his files and you’re bobbing your head along to your songs. Only now, Aaron sits closer to you, his arm against yours.
He’s not sure what to do with his newfound realization that his feelings for you run far deeper than friendship. All Aaron knows is that he likes the feeling of you beside him, and that he’s planning on keeping you there as long as you’ll let him.
It’s quiet between the two of you aside from your occasional ‘this is a good one,’ and his hum of acknowledgement.
Eventually, you’re relaxed enough that your eyes grow heavy, the sleep you’ve been lacking suddenly catching up to you, and when you hit a patch of slower songs you’re fighting to stay awake.
When your head lulls onto Hotch’s shoulder, you jerk your head up, “sorry, Aaron.”
His chest does something funny. A jump. It’s not often you call him Aaron, and he’d listen to the sound of his name on your lips on a loop if he could. Because he can’t help himself, he scooches himself even closer to you.
He decides to call you something different, too, saying, “it’s alright, honey.”
You’re too sleepy to really read into that one, all you feel is the flutter in your stomach and Aaron���s hand on your head, gently guiding it to his shoulder.
When he’s sure you’re asleep, Hotch looks away from his files and over to you. Your cheek is squished against his shoulder, your lashes fanned shut. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.
Aaron doesn’t even feel the smile that spreads over his face as he reaches up and pushes your hair away from your face. He’s completely unaware of the eyes that catch him, far too focused on you.
Emily turned around when she realized she hadn’t heard your voice in a bit, and she did it just in time to catch Hotch’s movement. Instead of saying something, she turns back around and shakes her head to herself.
Hopeless, she thinks.
Sleep doesn’t come so easily with this job, with the things you see, so Aaron can’t help but try and stay steady for you, and if that leads to him letting his eyes close and resting his head on yours, then so be it.
It’s not until the end of the flight that the team checks on the two of you. As everyone stands and grabs their go bags, they notice the two of you, asleep next to each other, earbud wires hanging between you.
“Should we wake them up?” JJ asks.
“Hotch doesn’t get enough sleep as it is,” Spencer chimes in. “Neither does she, actually.”
Of course, Derek finishes with, “let’s leave the lovebirds to it,” before the team gets off the plane.
It’s only about twenty minutes later that Aaron does wake up, but he feels more well-rested than he has in a while, even with the kink in his neck.
Blinking his eyes open, he’s met with an empty jet and the comforting weight of your head on his shoulder. “Shit,” he sighs.
He debates waking you, ultimately deciding that you’d probably rather sleep in your bed rather than the seat of the BAU’s jet. Reaching up, he pulls your earbuds away, setting them on the table. With a brush of his fingertips to your cheek, he coaxed you awake.
“Hey, honey,” Aaron’s nearly whispering, like he’s afraid to scare you. Or, maybe, he’s convinced that if he moves too quickly, too loudly, this whole thing will fade away as if he’d been dreaming. “Wake up, we’re home.”
“Hm?” You grumble, scrunching your nose when he brushes your cheek again.
“We fell asleep, but we landed.”
“Oh, god.” You sit up properly, lifting your head. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Hotch.”
“Aaron is good,” he eases you. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”
Sleep-hazed, or maybe just happy that he can be Aaron to you, you agree easily and take his hand when he offers it, letting him lead you to his car.
-
You’ve been spending more time at Aaron’s ever since that flight. In the car, he’d convinced you to stay over at his place in the guest room, since it was closer. With your go bag already in his car and heavy, sleepy eyes, it was hard for you to do anything but agree.
It’s another slice of his life that he’s let you see, and you can’t help but feel like it means something, like you’re stepping further and further away from being coworkers who are friends and towards something different. Something more.
That flight feels like the catalyst, the thing that caused things to shift into what they are now.
Aaron’s couch is much more comfortable than yours, and though you’ve yet to spend the night again, you’re sitting there with him at almost every chance. The time off you get is rare, and Aaron wanting to spend it with you sends flutters to your stomach whenever you think about it.
You feel like you know him better, getting to see his space, how he chose to decorate, what colors he likes, which ones he doesn’t. You also know what temperature he likes to set his thermostat.
“Do you enjoy living in a refrigerator?” You ask, hands tucked into your sleeves. “Just wondering.”
Aaron laughs, a small huff, “I think you just run cold, honey.”
He’s been calling you that a lot, too. Honey.
“No way, Hotchner. Your house is what runs cold. Or maybe you’re cold-blooded.”
Not with you, he thinks. Years and years of doing what he does, Hotch might even call himself cold when he’s thinking a little too hard. But never cold with you. He thinks that might be impossible for him.
“Shhh, don’t tell anyone my secret,” he says, his arm brushing against yours from where he sits next to you on his couch. “Where are you cold?”
“Can’t feel my toes, Aaron. I might be out of commission for the next case.”
“Well we can’t lose our best girl, can we?” Best girl, he says. Like he means it, like it’s simple. “I’ve got some thick socks you can grab. Bottom drawer.”
Just like that, he’s cracked another wall of his down even further, giving you permission to go into his bedroom as if you’ve been in there a thousand times.
“Really?”
“Unless you’d rather not feel your toes-“
“Okay, okay,” you stop him, unable to fight your smile. “Thanks, Aaron.”
When you stand and head towards his room, Aaron can’t stop himself from thinking that you belong there, in his home, his room, his life. You fit in so seamlessly he wishes you’d never leave.
He stands up too, because the couch suddenly feels sort of empty without you beside him, without your warmth. He walks over to his thermostat on the wall and turns it up for you.
You’ve always thought that you can tell a lot about a person from where they live, and seeing Aaron’s bedroom now solidifies it. His place does too, but there’s something about his bedroom that feels much more personal.
Here, there’s more of him, little bits of his life scattered around. A picture of him as a kid with his parents on the dresser, the newspaper’s crossword sitting completely finished on his nightstand, his bed neatly made.
You smile at the framed photo before slipping the top drawer open and finding the pair of socks he’d been talking about. As much as you’d love to snoop, you don’t want to invade his privacy in any way. Besides, from Aaron, even a glimpse of his space feels special.
You slip on the socks before you leave his room, letting them bunch at your ankles.
As soon as you walk back into the living room, Aaron’s phone rings. Glancing at you softly, almost apologetically though he’s got nothing to be sorry about—you work with him, you know how important a call can be—he picks it up.
“Hotchner,” he says, holding it to his ear. His voice is different this way, more professional, controlled. Never any less pleasing to hear.
He’d wanted to say something about how good you look in his clothes when his phone rang, Garcia’s name flashing on the screen. Aaron wishes it was someone else, only to spend more time with you this way.
“Sorry to call late, sir,” Penelope says. “We’ve got a case. Missing kid; it’s urgent.”
“Don’t be sorry, Garcia. We’re on our way.”
“Wait, we?” She asks, curious as always.
“What’s going on?” You ask Aaron.
“Got a case. I’ll drive, honey.” He lets the pet name slip, like it’s a habit.
On the other line, Garcia’s grinning to herself in her office. She’d had a suspicion of who on the team Hotch would be with outside of work, and hearing your voice, and his use of the word ‘honey’ all sticky sweet, she knows she’s onto something.
“Oh, that’s ‘we,’” Penelope’s voice teases. “Tell her I’ll see you guys soon!”
Aaron shakes his head, fighting his smile. “Bye, Garcia.”
He hangs up and looks from his phone to you, your eyes already on him, corners of your mouth tugged up just a little like you’d heard what Garcia said, heard the lilt in her voice. Like you liked the idea of you and Aaron being a unit. We.
He likes that idea, too.
Back at the BAU, Garcia calls Derek next, who picks up with his classic, “hey, babygirl.”
First, she tells him that he needs to come into the office, that they’ve got a case, then, “you’re never going to believe this.”
Penelope loves to talk, and Derek’s happy to listen, so she tells him about how you’d been with Aaron when she called, and that you were on your way together.
“I give them another week, max, before they’re holding hands when they come in.” Derek laughs, because he can see yours and Hotch’s feelings so easily, plain as day, and he loves to be right about things.
“How mad will Hotch be when he finds out that we talk about his relationship?” Penelope’s mostly joking, only a fraction concerned.
“If the boss didn’t want us talking about it, he shouldn’t be so obvious, sweetheart.”
Once you arrive at the office, you don’t catch Penelope and Derek’s shared looks behind yours and Aaron’s—who happens to be carrying both his and your go bag—backs.
And if anyone notices the loose socks around your ankles, they don’t say anything about it.
-
You’re not supposed to go off on your own unless it’s absolutely necessary. You know that, the team knows that. Aaron, who is always trying to keep you as safe as possible, enforces it.
You guess that this time might be up for debate.
When it comes to what you do, you have to trust your instincts most of the time. And today, your gut told you to make a decision that might not have been safe, but to you, it felt like what you had to do.
Aaron had been on the phone with you, trying to figure out a way to make the car drive any faster to get to you. He’d heard it in your voice, in the tone of it, that he couldn’t convince you to wait for someone else to show up.
“I have to do this, Aaron,” you’d said. While the team would normally probably tease him about you calling him Aaron, as if it isn’t his name, they’d known not to interrupt this time. “You know I do.”
“You don’t have to.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he spoke. “We’ll be there soon, alright? Just-”
“I’m sorry.” And then, you hung up.
In the end, going in when you did had been the right move. A life had been saved, and you’d slowed the guy down enough that the police were able to arrest him when they arrived. All it cost you was a cut and a bruise on your cheek.
So, your instincts weren’t so bad.
Aaron, however, disagrees. Logically, he knows that he would’ve done the exact same thing you did, knows the rest of the team would’ve, too. But when it comes to you, he has a hard time thinking logically.
After you hung up on him, all he could do was breathe and breathe and breathe over the heavy thumping of his heartbeat and the worry spinning in his head. He drove the quickest he could manage, the car silent inside. A static.
It’s not that he doubts your abilities—he’s always thought you were incredible, even before the friendship, even before now—only that the idea of you being alone with such a bad man makes him feel sick.
He’d take your place in a heartbeat, if he could, just to make sure you’d be safe.
By the time he and the rest of the team get to the scene, you’re walking out of the building with a hand pressed to your cheek and a paramedic leading you to a nearby ambulance.
Aaron spots you right away, his eyes scanning the small crowd through red and blue lights and conversations surrounding him. When he spots you, everything goes quiet.
His first thought is, thank god she’s alive, then, it’s fuck, she’s hurt.
Without a word to anyone, he heads over in your direction right away. He meets you at the ambulance, where you sit on the small bench inside while the paramedic presses your cheek with gauze.
“Honey.” It comes out in a breath. Relief and pain all at once.
You look over to him, his hair a little messy, his eyes wide and roaming all over you like he’s checking for any other injuries. He cares about you, and it’s written all over him.
“Aaron. I’m okay.” You hold a hand out, and he grabs it, sitting beside you on the bench in the ambulance. “Promise.”
For now, he nods, letting the paramedic do their job bandaging up your cheek. When they’re finished, they hand you a spare bandage saying, “it’s gonna bruise, and it might feel sore for a bit, but you’re all patched up.”
The paramedic leaves after that, probably going to check on other people. The lights inside the ambulance seem to cocoon you, a bright difference to the darkness outside.
The first thing Aaron says is, “let me see.”
His hands reach for your face, rough fingertips gently holding your jaw, tilting you so that he can look at your cheek. It’s a little swollen, discolored where you must’ve been hit. There’s a furrow in his brow, something that looks like a pout on none other than Aaron Hotchner.
“Hey,” you grab his wrists, but his hands stay on your face. “I’m fine.”
Aaron’s always worried, he’s always cared about you and about everyone on the team, but this is different. He was usually able to hide things much better than this. Much better than with you.
Now, all he sees is the tiny bloodstain on your shirt and the bandage on your cheek. All he feels is your hands squeezing his wrists and your eyes locked on his.
“You should have waited,” he says. “I could have been there.”
“Hotchner,” your deadpan tone is intact, which he’ll take as a win, even if it’s directed towards him. “You and I both know you would have done the same. I had to.”
One of his hands shifts to cup your non-injured cheek. Normally, he’d be much more composed while working, but he can’t bring himself to care about how he must look right now.
“I know you did,” he tells you, because he does. “I just wish that you didn’t. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
Your stomach is tumbling, rolling, your heart doing silly things in your chest. You can hardly feel the pain of your cheek anymore when his hand is on the other, his palm warm against your skin, his gaze even warmer.
“I’m hardly hurt, Aaron. Just a scratch.”
“Right. One that required medical attention. That’s more than just a scratch, honey.”
“If you say so, Hotchner.”
He shifts his hands so that they fall into your lap, palms up and fingers instantly finding yours, tangling together perfectly. Like puzzle pieces.
“Good job, by the way.” Hotch rubs his thumb over your skin once, back and forth. “You did the right thing.”
“Learned from the best,” you say.
You’re both oblivious to the fact that the team is watching from a distance, and that the two of you look so lovesick it’s ridiculous that you haven’t spilled your feelings yet. You’re both absolutely fucked.
Where she stands with the team, Emily shakes her head, “I haven’t seen Hotch like this since… ever.”
Beside her, JJ merely shrugs, like it’s obvious, “yeah, they’re in love.”
Spencer looks at you and Aaron in that ambulance with a smile. “The odds of you guys being right are very, very high.”
-
+1
Aaron Hotchner was never the biggest fan of birthdays. Was never big into the cakes and making wishes, the song and the presents and the fuss of it all.
When he started at the bureau, it stayed that way. Days off were rare enough as it was, so he’d always work on his birthday. And while he kept the signed cards from the team, he treated it as any other day. Nothing special.
This year, you’re on a mission to change that.
While it isn’t the first of Aaron’s birthdays you’ve spent with him, it’s the first one since the two of you have grown as close as you have, since you’ve felt the way you do. You’re just hoping to make it a good birthday for him.
You’ve roped the whole team into it. Decorating the conference room with streamers and balloons and a sign that hangs crooked on the wall, bringing in a cake that reads ‘Happy Birthday Hotch’ in frosting, and keeping it all a secret.
Of course, you’ve all already said happy birthday to him, and you’ve got a present stashed under your desk for later, but you’ve been doing your best to act natural even when the anticipation of your surprise for him eats at your stomach a little.
Surprises are a tricky thing, and there’s no way of knowing whether he’ll like it or not. You’ll just have to wait and see.
While in his office, the team had made it seem like they’d all left for the day, saying their goodbyes to Hotch. Instead of leaving, though, they’ve been hidden in the conference room waiting for you to bring him in.
“Aaron,” you say, knocking on his office door. “I think I lost an earring. Do you think you could help me look for it?”
Because you’re the one asking, Aaron says, “‘course, honey. Where do you think it is?”
You smile, because he’s fallen into your trap easily, because you know that he probably would search for an earring with you if you’d actually lost one.
“I remember having it on in the conference room, so maybe there.”
He stands from his desk, gesturing for you to lead the way with his hand held out. You grab onto it before he can drop it, tangling your fingers and leading him behind you.
Aaron lets you guide him, and when you open the door to the conference room and flick on the lights, he’s met with the team’s grinning faces and a chorus of, “surprise!”
For a moment, he’s speechless, frozen in his spot in the doorway with your hand in his.
No, Aaron’s never been the biggest fan of birthdays, but maybe that’s because nobody’s ever done something like this for him. You came into his life all sweet smiles and now you’re throwing him a surprise party? He’s never ever liked someone the way he likes you.
So much that like is spilling into a four letter word and he’s happy to let it.
You know him well enough to know that he doesn’t like being the center of attention too much, so the only people in the room are those of the BAU. His closest friends. And you, his favorite person.
Before he can say anything he’s being spoken to by the team, getting a ‘happy birthday, boss,’ from Derek, a spill about how hard it was to keep this a secret from Penelope, a grin from Spencer, a tip about how you’d organized all of this from Emily, a squeeze to the shoulder from JJ.
When he finally gets the chance, the others split into their own conversations, Aaron tugs you aside to the corner of the room.
“You did all of this for me?” He asks, head bent to catch your eye.
Although you’d caught the signature Hotchner smile—closed-mouthed and quick—when he saw the surprise, you’re nervous about what he might say. You worry that you’ve done too much, that he’d been pretending to like it for your sake.
“I’m sorry if it’s a bit much,” you start, anxiously tugging at your sleeves. “I wasn’t sure if you liked surprises, I know not everyone does, but I wanted to do something for you because I care about you. A lot. And birthdays are meant to be celebrated, you know?”
Aaron can’t help but let a smile spread over his face as you speak; a real smile. His heart is light, his feelings for you melting through him like the soft pink of cotton candy. He doesn’t think you could ever do anything that he wouldn’t like.
“I’ll clean it all up, too, I prom-”
Your rambling is cut off with his lips on yours. He’s kissing you.
It’s soft, the press of his mouth against yours, and it takes you a second to push back. It stays delicate, a dance between the two of you like you’d practiced a million times before.
His hands skate down your arms to hold your hands, weaving his fingers with yours, squeezing like he’s making sure you know this is real.
You feel it all over, your stomach tumbling, your heart beating in a rhythm that thumps his name. Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, over and over.
It’s a kiss worth a thousand words that you haven’t said yet, a kiss full of feelings and meaning and you know it, just by the way he does it, because you know him and he knows you. It’s you and Aaron, and it feels like the beginning of something huge. Of the rest of your life, maybe.
When he pulls back, Hotch rests his forehead against yours, giving your head a gentle nudge, locking his brown eyes on yours.
“It’s perfect,” he says.
The next thing you hear is Derek Morgan cheering, “I knew it!”
Similar words come from the rest of the team.
“Finally,” from Emily.
“About time,” from JJ.
“This isn’t surprising,” from Spencer, who smiles while saying it.
A sweet, “yay,” from Penelope.
Distracted by Aaron kissing you, you’d sort of forgotten they were there. Bashful, you tuck your head beneath Aaron’s chin, forehead against his collar. He simply tightens his hands around yours.
And when it’s time for cake, this year, Aaron Hotchner makes a wish on his birthday candles. He wishes to spend every other birthday just like this. With you.
thank you so so much for reading!!! if you liked it, please please please consider reblogging/commenting and letting me know what you thought! love you <3
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whimsiwitchy · 4 months ago
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we broke up (one shot)
hugh jackman x f!reader
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summary: you get dragged to a work event by your boyfriend of three years when Hugh comes to flirt with you. after you reluctantly tell him you’re taken, he backs off for the most part. a few months later, Hugh tells the story during an interview but little does he know you’re single now. 
warnings: implied age gap (not mentioned), flirting while in a relationship (kinda)
authors note: here's a little oneshot I wrote tonight. enjoy <33
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You’d been with your boyfriend, Rowan, for a few years now. He earned a degree in marketing and immediately got a job for a studio. While he enjoys his job and it brings in good money, the events he dragged you to were unbelievably boring. The company he worked for always had big parties after a success on a project. At first they were interesting, often running into celebrities here and there given that it was the success of their movie, but lately you found yourself sitting at the bar more often than not. It was routine at this point. Rowan would show you off for the first hour, then he would toss you aside to fend for yourself. You weren’t the biggest social butterfly, hence why you liked to sit alone, drinking. 
Tonight wasn’t any different. You were at another party for the successful marketing for Deadpool and Wolverine. You’d heard a few whispers that the stars of the movie themselves were somewhere wandering around but you hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing them. Rowan dumped you at the bar a little over thirty minutes ago and you’ve been sipping on some fruity little drink ever since, completely in your own world. You made small talk with the bartender every once and a while but you were mainly people watching. 
“Mind if I join?” A deep Australian accent asks. You look up and see a gorgeous older man. He was wearing a dark blue suit with a pair of black expensive looking glasses. He was deliciously tall and had a thich salt and pepper beard. “Uh no, go ahead.” He sits in the bar stool next to you. He orders a drink from the bartender before returning his attention back to you. “Pardon me if this is too forward but you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” The comment takes you aback. “Oh um, thank you. That’s really sweet of you to say.” He looks down to your glass that’s nothing but melted ice at this point. “Can I buy you another drink?” He asks. “You probably shouldn’t. I’m taken…sadly.” You whisper the last part, unsure if he heard it or not. “Oh! I apologize for coming on to you. You’ve been sitting here by yourself for so long, I thought you might have come alone.” You huff out a laugh. “My boyfriend works for the company. He’s out there socializing or whatever.” You shrug and signal to the bartender, asking for another drink. “That’s a shame. If you were mine, you’d be on my arm all night.” He smirks. “Is that right?” You smile at him. Before he can answer, you feel your phone vibrate with a text from Rowan that reads ‘where are you babe? Time to leave.’ 
“Well, the boyfriends calling, I gotta go.” You carefully climb out of the chair and grab your jacket and purse off of the back. As you start to walk away, the man speaks again. “Wait! What’s your name?” You turn back to face him. “Y/n.” He smiles and repeats it. “I’m Hugh.” His answer surprises you. “Oh! Congrats on the movie. I didn’t even recognize you at first with the beard and all.” He laughs. “Bye Hugh.” You wave before walking off.
It’s been a few months since that night in July, it being September now. You and Rowan had broken up mid-August, both of you agreeing that the relationship wasn’t going anywhere. It hurt for a little bit but you knew it was for the best. Living with him had been awkward as you searched for a new place, deciding that he can keep the current apartment. You wanted a fresh start, which is where you are now. Tonight was your first night in your new apartment. You didn’t have any furniture yet but you were happy. You bought an air mattress to make do until you could afford an actual bed. 
It was around midnight and you were doing your nightly youtube watch. You were scrolling through your recommended videos when you saw Hugh’s face pop up. It was an interview posted a few minutes ago from him on some late night show you’d never heard of. You clicked on it, wanting to hear what the man was up to these days. The interview was a standard one, mostly questions on his upcoming movie about some sheep. You weren’t really paying attention, close to dozing off when a question peaked your interest. 
“So Hugh, it’s almost been a year since the announcement of your divorce and the fans wanna know…How’s your dating life doing? Are you seeing anyone?” The woman asks, wiggling her eyebrows. Hugh lets out a big laugh. “I’m actually not seeing anyone. It’s funny you ask because the last time I even attempted to flirt with a woman she turned me down.” The interviewer's eyebrows shoot up in shock. She gasps before asking, “How could anyone turn you down? We need to know the full story here.” 
“Ryan and I were at this party for the marketing team that worked on Deadpool and Wolverine and I saw this absolutely gorgeous girl sitting at the bar all alone.” The interviewer is nodding her head, engaging with every word Hugh says. “I eyed her for a while to see if anyone was with her but she sat there alone for a good thirty minutes before Ryan hyped me up to go over there. When I finally did, I ordered a drink and tried to play it cool but I felt the urge to tell this girl how stunning she was, so I did.” You giggle to yourself and you hear him tell the story from his point of view. “She thanked me and I offered to buy her another drink. I kid you not, in the prettiest voice I’ve ever heard she says ‘you probably shouldn’t, i’m taken.’” His hands go up to his chest, gripping right above his heart. “My heart broke mate. I flirted a little more in true Hugh fashion but she had to go. I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since.” 
“What a lucky woman, I’m sure she regrets it.” 
“Hey, I tried my best.” He shrugs before looking at the camera. “Y/n, if you ever break up with him. I’m all yours baby.” 
Your jaw drops, the sound of cheers blasting from your phone.  
‘we broke up. I’m all yours. @/RealHughJackman’ 
You hit send on the tweet and hoped it would be enough to bring him back to you.
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thank you for reading <3
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entitled-fangirl · 4 months ago
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A good father.
Gwayne Hightower x wife!reader
Summary: fatherhood is different than what Gwayne expected. Daeron worries that it will be the same as Otto and Gwayne's relationship.
A/n: so I saw that this was the most voted for the poll so far, so I just decided to write it today! Surprise!
Masterlist
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Otto Hightower had returned to Old Town only days ago, and things could not have been more awkward.
Well, not for Gwayne.
That cocky little shit just said everything that came to mind.
It seemed he liked to battle his father.
"Daeron?" Her soft voice came over the yard.
Young Daeron sat in the garden of Old Town, a frown upon his face. But at the sound of her voice, he turned and his eyes brightened.
Y/n Hightower slowly walked to him. Five months had passed and finally, she was beginning to show the child that was growing inside her. And she seemed to glow all the more for it.
Daeron moved to the side of make room for her on the bench, as well as hold his hand out to her to help her sit.
"Something is bothering you." She stated and pushed his blonde hair behind his ear. 
He shook his head. "It's nothing."
"Daeron," she tried again softly.
She had a way with him. She never had to raise her voice to get her way, for everyone that heard the meek tone of her voice still listened and obeyed. 
"It's Grandsire," Daemon explained. "More… it's the constant bickering."
She nodded, running a hand through his hair affectionately. "Gwayne and his father have never seen eye to eye, not since Alicent became queen. They are just two very different men."
"Is that how all fathers and sons talk?"
She pulled his chin up to make his eyes meet hers, "No. Not all fathers and sons speak in ill regard of one another."
"What if he does it to his own son?"
Her brows furrowed, "What?"
"What if Gwayne speaks like that to the babe?" 
She just realized how his eyes glazed over with tears. "Oh, sweet boy." She pulled him to her. "Gwayne is a man with a temper, but he would not do that. There is a barrier between Gwayne and his father. One that cannot be fixed now, and only because of that do they fight."
Daeron considered her words for a while, "So, because there is no barrier with the babe-"
"-Gwayne will love this child with his entire being, I promise you."
She held him for a while, promising to talk to her husband about it later.
"Might I speak with you?" Her voice echoed out.
Gwayne turned slowly, his face lighting up at her sudden appearance. "You and I both know that you may."
A soft smile came to her lips as she walked to him, "I've missed you as of late."
His head tilted, "I've been here."
She rested her hands on his chest, "Yes, but your mind has been elsewhere."
One of his hands moved to her swollen stomach, "Very much so. My father has been occupying my attention." He scoffed thinking about it, "He's a foolish man."
Her hands rubbed soothingly across his chest. "Even now, you only think of him." She leaned forward and kissed his shoulder, "Don't neglect your wife and future child to argue with your father."
He let out a soft sigh as her words broke his angered facade. "Forgive me."
"No." She leaned against him. "You need to apologize to Daeron."
"Daeron?" He asked in surprise. "Why Daeron?"
"He's worried for you. Well… for the child."
His eyes moved to her to stomach. "I don't understand. He has no reason to worry."
"He's seen the way you bicker with your father."
His hand rubbed up and down, "I'm still rather confused. What does my relationship with my father have to do with the child? Are you alright? Is the babe alright?"
She placed her hand over his, "I am fine."
He tilted his head in worry, "You're sure?"
"I am. Daeron is frightened that you'll speak to our child the way your father speaks to you."
A worried look came over his face, "I would never."
"I know that."
"I did not realize he noticed that."
"I told him I'd speak to you to reassure his worries."
He nodded and looked to her face. "Let me talk to him."
She nodded, "Alright. He should still be outdoors."
Gwayne placed a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'll go now. Wait for me?"
She hummed a questioning noise, "What? Why?"
He grinned, "I want to make up for lost time when I return."
A blush came to her cheeks, "Do make it quick then."
He smoothed down her hair, "I shall."
"Come here, nephew."
Daeron looked up and saw his uncle. He stood and smoothed out his shirt. "Yes, uncle?"
He ruffled the boy's hair and smirked, "I've been told that you're worried about something."
A guilty look crossed the boy's face, "Aunt Y/n told you that?"
"She did. But I want to hear it from you." He pointed to the bench, "Sit." Gwayne sat next to him. "I understand that you worry about the way your grandsire and I speak to one another."
Daeron nodded, "You fight often."
"We do." He wanted to fully explain it all, but his nephew was still a child. "We do not… agree often. That is all."
"You and Aunt Y/n disagree often," he pointed out.
He realized the direction that the boy was going, and was earnestly trying to make him see his side. "I'd never speak negatively to that woman."
"But why is that different to Grandsire?"
"Well, I love my wife," he said immediately.
Daeron's eyes watered, "Do you not love Grandsire?"
"I…" he looked away in thought. "He is my father. Do you love your father, Daeron?"
"I believe I do," he answered. "But I do not know. I've lived here for almost my whole life. I don't know father well at all."
"May I tell you a secret? I do not know my father at all, either." Gwayne leaned back against the bench. "My father has always been in King's Landing with your father. Seems we're the same."
Daeron nodded, "I didn't… I didn't think about that."
Gwayne put a hand on Daeron's shoulder, "I will always stay by the babe's side. I will not part from my family."
The boy relaxed at that. He stared in thought, something clearly bothering him. "What is my mother like?"
Gwayne frowned, "W…What?"
"The queen. What is she like? Surely you know."
"Why not ask your Grandsire?"
"I don't know him well enough. I try to avoid him in all honestly. Is that wrong of me?"
Gwayne considered the thought. "I don't think so. I was very frustrated to see him return too."
The Targaryen prince stared up at his uncle, "Did he treat his wife poorly?"
Gwayne felt a smile come to his face at the mention of his mother. "No. No, he loved her very dearly, as I love my wife." He looked out over the garden. "And Alicent is much like your grandmother. Very headstrong but very kind, and as fiery as the Hightower hair. Or, at least… I think she is. She was." He turned to look at Daeron, "Do you wish to visit your mother at some point?"
"No. I'm content here."
"Are you?" A soft voice interrupted. 
Y/n approached the two, a slight waddle to her step due to her condition.
Gwayne stood up and held his arms out to her. When she was close enough, he helped her sit on the bench. 
She still looked to Daeron. "You're happy here?"
He nodded.
"I'm very glad," she smiled.
Gwayne knelt in front of the boy, "I promise to you that I will love my child unconditionally. Now, I want you to stop worrying. Will you do that?"
Daeron nodded again.
Y/n reached up to smooth the boy's hair, "And you'll still be loved the same when you have a cousin."
"You'll be an excellent cousin," Gwayne chipped in.
"I don't know how to do so. I… I am hardly a brother."
"Do not fret, Daeron. It will come to you naturally," she cooed.
A few months later, Daeron entered the couple's chambers in nervousness, eager to meet his cousin.
Gwayne sat against the headboard of the bed, his exhausted wife leaning against his chest. "Daeron?"
He looked up at his uncle, "Is she alright?"
Gwayne nodded and pulled her just a little closer. "She's perfect."
"And the babe?"
Gwayne looked across the room. 
Otto Hightower sat on the sofa across the room, the babe held securely in his arms. 
It was clear that there was a little tension between the two men.
Otto looked to Daeron, "C'mere."
Daeron walked to his grandsire curiously.
Otto lowered one shoulder to let Daeron see the babe. "A boy."
Daeron's eyes widened, "A boy?"
Gwayne spoke up, "Are you happy?"
He nodded immediately.
Y/n's eyes opened and she let out a groan.
Gwayne shifted her, getting her more comfortable. "Need something?"
"Wanna get up," she whispered. 
Gwayne looked at the others in the room, "Leave us."
Daeron nodded, leaving with the maester.
Otto wanted to be annoyed, but he couldn't. He stood and went to put the babe down, but Gwayne spoke up, "Bring him here."
Y/n's eager arms took the child from Otto. 
Lord Hightower smiled softly, "You'll be a wonderful mother."
She grinned. "I hope so."
Otto then looked to Gwayne. He stared at him for a while. Gwayne was expecting an insult. 
"I was so scared the day you were born."
Gwayne was confused by the sudden confession. "What?"
"The day you were born. I remember the way my hands shook." He looked between the two, "Your mother was so confident."
"I heard she was wonderful," Y/n chirped in softly.
Otto nodded, "She was."
"Gwayne, I need to feed the babe."
Gwayne nodded. "I'll fetch the midwife to help you." He stood and led his father out.
The two walked down the corridor in silence. Finally, Otto spoke. "Your son will be a strong warrior."
"He will be. I'll be here to ensure it," Gwayne said bitterly.
Otto sighed. "We've never gotten along, I understand-"
"-No, you just weren't here."
"I was leading the realm," Otto tried to reason.
"You left," he grunted.
"I am still your father."
"No. Only by blood."
Otto scoffed, "Do not be weak."
"I will raise my son properly. I won't leave my child. And I won't leave my wife." Gwayne grunted. "Something you didn't do."
"Do you believe that I returned here only because I wished to?"
Gwayne stared at him for a while, "I… I do not pretend to understand your choices."
Otto took a step forward, "I was terrified the day you were born. I did not know how to be a father. I didn't have one long enough to learn from him."
Gwayne's head tilted, "And?"
"And…" Otto sighed as his frustration grew. "The king granted me a few months leave. Do you believe I just so happened to time out my arrival with end of your wife's condition and the months after?"
He crossed his arms in annoyance, "What are you saying? You wanted to be here? You wanted to see the child?"
"I WANTED TO SEE YOU!" Otto yelled. "YOU AND YOUR FOOLISH PRIDE!" He brought a hand to his forehead, "I remember the feeling of holding your first child. It is not easy to be a new father and to lead. I only wish to help you in the ways I know how."
"You came back for me?" He asked incredulously.
"Entirely," he admitted. "I see your mother in you. In every word, in every deed. Even in death, she haunts my narrative."
"Would you change your choices if you could restart?"
"Very much."
That was all Gwayne needed to hear. "We are both too stubborn for our own good."
"I want the best for you, Gwayne. I am sorry if I have never stated that. Your wife lives, as does your child. That is the greatest blessing that a man can receive."
"I am well aware," Gwayne smiled lightly. "I… I had to rule Old Town in your absence. I suppose it has been hard to step aside now that you've returned."
Otto smiled. "For now, I wish for you to tend to your family. Leave the rest to me."
Gwayne nodded, "I will." He turned to leave, but hesitated. "Father."
Otto's brows lifted.
Gwayne forced the words out, the feeling new. "Thank you."
Daeron had hidden around the corner, listening to the entire exchange.
"Do promise to write often," Y/n smiled as she held the small infant in her arms.
Otto strapped the last bag onto the horse, "I shall try."
She shifted the babe in her arms, "Gwayne has… spoken well of you, as of late." She smiled teasingly, "Do you know why?"
Otto faked a confused look. "Has he? Haven't the faintest idea."
"Well, know that he does. Perhaps he's only now respecting the challenge that fatherhood brings."
He grinned, "I will pray that your son is only half of the battle that Gwayne is."
She laughed, "He is a Hightower. We both know that a prayer like that is worthless. He will be a fighter until his dying day."
Gwayne walked to the pair, pulling his wife to his side, "When will you return?"
Otto shrugged, "When I am granted leave next. I am uncertain. Care for Daeron for me still."
The red head nodded, "You know I always will."
Y/n stepped forward and kissed Otto's cheek, "We shall await the day you return."
He looked at the two. The love they shared was obvious. "As do I."
He mounted his horse. 
Y/n muttered something about feeding the babe and excused herself, leaving Otto and Gwayne.
"And Gwayne? You're a good father."
He felt a small twist in his gut.
...............................................................
1K notes · View notes
saetoru · 1 year ago
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ my life with you (that’s way over now)
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synopsis. some people get drunk calls from their exes, maybe even flowers with hand written apologies. you get a knock on your front door with two random kids and a murder case
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length. 3.0k words (once more it was supposed to be short)
contents. exes to lovers, ex boyfriend! suguru, gn! reader, slightly deviated from canon (he doesn’t kill the entire village + doesn’t defect), slightly a fix-it fic, blood, murder, child abuse + neglect (canon events with suguru and the twins), angst to slight fluff with hopeful ending (pretty much happy tbh), mentions of family + kids, suguru pretty much being a broke and depressed lil guy lollll
notes. idk what this is but it was written for me i just wanted to write it so here. take it and look away
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right before you graduate, you and suguru break up. you don’t want to, but he insists it’s only fair—he can hardly be there for you the way you need him to be, he says. something’s changed in him, it has since that day last year. but still—you don’t want to break up.
so you argue, he stays firm, you cry, he doesn’t change his mind, you break up, he leaves, and the world momentarily collapses.
it’s the way things work, you suppose. they don’t quite always go the way you planned. you graduate not long after that, leaving him behind to throw yourself into work while you toe into the baby steps of adulthood. real adulthood—the jujutsu world has a way of thrusting you into that faster than normal, anyway.
by the time it’s late summer, you get your first apartment. it’s a rundown place—the bathroom tiles look dirty no matter how much you scrub, the walls haven’t been repainted in what seems like decades, and the thermostat never works properly to feel like what the temperature indicates.
but it’s yours—you leave jujutsu high fresh into the real world, paying your taxes and buying your groceries all while you exorcise curses for a living. barely an adult, barely getting by, barely alive as you get up each day and live.
and then suguru comes knocking on your door half past midnight.
“hey,” he says nonchalantly, like there’s nothing wrong with standing there—but you know him better than that. you can hear that detachment in his voice as he stares between your eyes, but not quite in them.
“you—” you start, staring at him incredulously before you decide to give up. there are no surprises with suguru, not anymore you suppose. you don’t really know him anymore. “suguru, it’s midnight,” you sigh—and that’s when you see them: two small children that can’t be much older than five.
bruises are clear as day on their arms, even while standing in the darkness outside. there’s also the slight swollen curve of their eyes, and you can’t help but notice how they’re practically skin and bone. children who have probably not yet even lived for five winters, and you almost wonder if they’ve been through more than you have in you’re entire lifetime.
suguru clears his throat before you can stare at them any longer.
“this is nanako,” he gestures at the blonde, “and this is mimiko.” the brunette one seems more shy, curls behind his leg further as her name is uttered.
you don’t know what to say, so you settle for smiling—you’re not sure if it comes out too genuine, but you try. it’s all you can offer, really.
“hello,” you hum for a moment. and then you turn back to suguru, “it’s midnight.”
“i know.”
“you should be at school grounds.”
“i know.”
“suguru,” you sigh, eyeing the blood stained on his cheek. you don’t like where this is heading. there’s a sick feeling twisting in your gut, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling.
bile. you can taste it. something’s not right.
“where did you find these kids?”
“on a mission,” he says simply, “village heads were keepin’ em locked in a cage like animals. can you believe it?”
again, that casual tone. it almost as easy as humming your favorite tune, as smooth as your skin on freshly washed sheets, as quiet as the first day of snow when the world is still. but something about it is hollow—something’s not right.
“why’d you bring them here? instead of school? shoko should look at them—”
“i told them they’d be safe here.”
they’d be safe anywhere, you think. as long as suguru’s there too. as long they’re under his watchful gaze, nothing could hope to beat down on their youth like it already has their whole lives. but you don’t say that—something tells you he won’t believe you.
maybe not right now.
you don’t look at him. you can’t. something’s not right, but there are children present. so you throw on your best smile and open the door wider, offering them to come in.
your apartment is small, just one bedroom and one bath. there’s hardly enough food for yourself for tonight, you still have to go grocery shopping this week. the missions were lined up back to back to back—but that’s just life as a sorcerer, you suppose. most days you hardly have the energy to eat more than a few apple slices when you return home anyway.
you wave your hand at your place dramatically as you say, “come on in, ladies. your humble abode awaits.”
they giggle slightly at that—it’s the first time suguru hears them laugh. you have that effect, he knew you would. it’s why he brings them here and not there. and…well, there’s a more complicated issue at hand. but that’s for later.
right now…well, for right now, he lets you guide them to the bathroom.
“you have money on you right?” you ask. he blinks, staring at you for a moment before slowly shaking his head.
“spent the last of it on cigarettes this morning.”
great, you think, before sighing and trudging over to grab your wallet as you press a few crisp bills of cash in his hands.
“here.”
“what’s this for?” he raises a brow.
“go buy them clothes,” you look at him like he’s stupid. he might be, in all honesty. just a little. “i’m not putting them back in…those once they’re all cleaned.”
“wha—i’ve never shopped for children before,” he gapes, “and i don’t know what size they are, or—”
“figure it out, suguru,” you say tiredly. it’s half past midnight—by now, you’d be passed out from your mission. he seems to take the hint. “and bring some snacks too. should be enough.”
“fine,” he grumbles—and then he’s walking out the door.
for a second, it feels familiar watching him leave. but then you decide not to dwell on it—there are much more important matters at hand.
you turn to the two girls before crouching in front of them with a gentle smile, “who’s ready for bubbles?”
——————
nanako and mimiko have never had a bubble bath before. you decide to let them taste the first tendrils of youth by splashing in your tiny bathtub while you find suguru for some much needed answers.
he sits on your couch, shirt wrinkled and hair falling loose and blood still staining his cheek as he hunches over his legs, elbows resting on his thighs as he thinks. and thinks. and thinks and thinks and thinks.
you wonder about what—what could be plaguing his mind? a lot you’re sure, but this isn’t suguru. not the one you know, at least.
the one you knew, the voice in your mind hisses—do you really even know him at all anymore?
“so,” you sit on the opposite side of the sofa, curling your legs under yourself as you eye him from the side, “care to explain?”
“i killed them,” he mutters. you go still. “the village heads. i did it without hesitating. that’s bad, right?”
“well fuck, suguru,” you breathe, restless, “that’s certainly not good.”
“i had a reason,” he argues, “all i needed was one.”
“there’s nothing that excuses murder—”
“oh, but we can excuse locking kids in cages, is that right? why? cause they’re sorcerers? they’re not—they’re children.”
“i didn’t say that,” you rub your forehead. this is all too much. too, too much.
being a sorcerer is too much. being in front of suguru is too much.
you finish your third year with a broken heart and graduate in spring—at one point you’d hoped graduating wouldn’t change anything between you and your friends, between you and the boy you loved. everything would be the same, even if you’d leave the place that held you all together—you’d still find a way back to each other, you liked to think. but then it all changes before you can even comprehend.
haibara is dead. nanami is hardly coping. gojo is everywhere but here. shoko is in high demand. suguru is hardly present even when he’s right in front of you. nothing is the same and you don’t think it ever will be. you lose the one thing you count on being yours forever, and now, he’s right here again. but not really here—not with you so much as near you.
suguru has killed people, sitting on your couch with you while the two children he finds are bathing happily in your bathtub.
there’s some irony in that—maybe in a perfect world, suguru and you would sit on the couch, much happier than right now, though. maybe you’d be tucked under his arm and curled into his side as you both chuckle at the happy squeals in the distance. maybe in a perfect world.
but this world is cruel. too cruel, in fact. it forces children to grow up too fast during some times and lets adults continue to be children during others. it’s sickening and all too much.
but this is the world you live in. there’s not much to change in that—not much you can change. maybe sitting on the couch with suguru is what you should be grateful for, whether it’s in this world or another.
“i came here because it’s safe,” he mumbles, quieter this time, “i don’t…i didn’t trust anywhere else.”
something tells you he’s not talking about the kids. you look at him for the first time that night—really look at him. you take in the lost weight, the sunken cheekbones and the bruised under eyes from the lack of sleep. the cracked lips from being chapped and the dry hair that’s lost its normal shine.
something’s not right—you won’t be able to mend it, but you think you can keep it from getting worse.
“it is safe here,” you murmur, nodding in assurance, “but you can’t…i can’t let you do that. not again.”
“what? kill people?” he snorts in dry amusement. it’s quiet for a bit—you open your mouth a few times like you want to say something, but nothing ever comes. he finally decides to fill the silence. “i don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. people shouldn’t kill. but some people shouldn’t live.”
“i think jujutsu is supposed to save people. not everyone will deserve it, but i suppose we wouldn’t be much better than them if we used it for anything other than that,” you whisper. he looks over at you at that, peers at you deep in thought as he contemplates your words.
“that’s funny,” he chuckles, “i used to think that too.”
“what changed?”
“everything.”
“then change it some more,” you shrug, “until you think it again.” he looks at you incredulously at that, eyeing you like you’re crazy.
“you’re an idiot,” he scoffs.
“says the killer,” you scoff back. you look at him this time, in the eyes and full of conviction, full of promises you couldn’t make before but fully intend to keep now. “don’t kill anyone else and i’ll help you. with those kids, i mean.”
“you want to co parent with me?” he chuckles.
co parent—the word makes your stomach twist. even after all this time, after all the hurt and pain, suguru is easy to imagine that with. he’s easy to imagine anything in the future with, really. he’s always been perfect like that, but you’re starting to realize there’s a lot more imperfections to him than you initially thought.
but it’s okay, you think. if you didn’t stop loving him before, you certainly don’t stop now. blood on his hands or not, he’s yours—even if he doesn’t want to be.
“don’t say it like that,” you murmur softly, hugging your arms around yourself, “please.”
you let yourself be vulnerable for just a moment—not because you want to, but because he needs to know. he needs to know how unfair he’s being and how patient you are with him despite it all. you deserve that much.
“sorry,” he mutters—he has the decency to look away and drop his smile.
“you don’t kill anyone, and i’ll look for a bigger place. deal?”
“for us…all?”
“yes. just until you figure it out, i’ll help you out with them. and then you’ll responsibly use your paycheck as a full time special grade sorcerer and maybe send a few checks my way to say thanks to my good will.”
he chuckles at that, shaking his head. “i’ll repay you,” he hums, tapping his foot. he does that when he’s nervous, you still remember—you could never forget anything about him. “i…i owe you, anyway.”
it’s quiet some more. you don’t know what to say, and quite frankly, you don’t want to say anything at all. but once more, he fills the silence for you after a while.
“what if…” he starts, “what if i want to co parent with you?”
“you dumped me,” you point out, unable to hide the bitterness any longer. it cracks from your tongue through your words like honey that went dry. “remember that? cause i sure remember.”
you’re an adult now, just barely, but an adult all the same. you should handle this the mature way—but you’re still young. still hurt. still blanketed in the fresh wave of nostalgia that leaves you aching with grief.
so you let yourself be bitter. suguru can handle that much after he left you to pick up your shattered pieces.
“i didn’t want to,” he says quietly. “i never wanted to.”
“but you did.”
“i didn’t…you didn’t deserve to see me unstable.”
“you’re not very stable right now either,” you pinch your nose tiredly, “you killed people, suguru. but somehow you can manage to have two kids now. but not me.”
“they need me,” he defends.
“i needed you too,” your voice cracks.
you did. you needed him—and you like to think he needed you too. maybe it wasn’t perfect, nothing ever is, especially not when you fight curses and see their ugliness every day. but that’s the best part of having each other—having something pretty amidst the hideousness.
he left you with more ugly than you knew what to do with. it’s unfair, you think for a moment, unfair that two girls who hardly know him at all have more of him than you ever did. he’d never abandon them—that much you know for sure.
you’ve laughed with him, held him and wiped his tears and kissed him under the moon until it became the sun. you’ve seen him with his hair down and his guard lowered. you’ve seen him in every way possible but in the end, he walked away.
they’ve seen him for less than a day and somehow, he’ll be there forever. there’s something unfair about that and you hate that you’re bitter with children but the world in cruel like that.
suguru slowly inches over—it’s cautious at first, and then he fills the gap all at once. you pretend you don’t feel the way your thighs touch.
“i need you too,” he admits, voice small. there’s a small, shaky crack that eats away at your heart, trying to gnaw into the raw part. the easy to reach part. the part you shouldn’t let him see anymore. “i…i always needed you. i’m sorry.”
“we were supposed to need each other,” you sniffle.
“we do,” he slowly slumps his head onto your shoulder. you let him stay there—don’t dare move a muscle in case he pulls away. “you’re the only thing that keeps me stable. i don’t think that’s fair.”
“needing someone isn’t unfair, suguru,” you scoff.
“okay,” he grabs your hand, squeezing. for the first time, he lets it all go. lets tears slowly slip from the corners of his eyes as he slumps into your side. he cries for riko. for kuroi. for satoru and the time he lost him for a moment. for their youth. for haibara. for not being enough even when he shouldn’t have had to be. somewhere amidst all that, your arms wrap around him and he’s pulled into your chest—that familiar feeling of your fingers threading into his hair makes the world start spinning again. “i need you,” he chokes.
“okay,” you say shakily, nodding slowly as you let yourself hope, “as long as you don’t stop this time.”
he buries his face into your chest, and you kiss the crown of his head.
cruelty is an unstoppable force. your love for suguru is an immovable object. neither is going anywhere, but perhaps they can coexist.
“satoru’s gonna have a massive headache when he explains this one to the higher ups,” you snort after a while.
he laughs into your shirt, real for the first time in a long time. “i’ll buy him something sweet. should make up for it,” he hums. and then he looks up, smiles innocently as he asks, “wanna lend me some cash? i’ll pay you back when i’m a responsible handler of money.”
“you’re hopeless,” you chuckle, “but at least you’re here.”
————— BONUS —————
“okay,” satoru starts, holding his hands up in surrender as he stands before the higher ups. damn old geezers, he thinks. “so he did kill a person or two…but—”
“there is no excuse,” a voice hisses.
“he didn’t mean it,” he huffs indignantly, “it was an accident. those can happen sometimes.”
“what—”
“he’s going through a phase, okay? let him work through it, he’ll be fine.”
“that’s not—”
“i’ll let him off the hook this time,” satoru grins, pushing his glasses up his nose as he shrugs, “he’s got a family now, y’know? kids and a spouse, and they’re looking for a home. can’t take that away from them.”
“he’s not even married—”
“it’ll happen eventually,” he insists, “so let’s all just calm down, yeah? great, thanks!”
“gojo—”
“see ya!”
he walks out, flashing an obnoxious peace sign at the higher ups as they hiss at him to return as he’s walking out. that takes care of that, he thinks, as long as suguru doesn’t make his life harder and kill more people, he can handle it—you did promise him kikufuku if he does.
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satoru is babygirl defender no. 1 ain’t nobody doing it like my guy 🤞🏽 he would be loyal to you while you were in jail no doubts
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alisonsfics · 5 months ago
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guest lecturer - part one
pairing: tyler owens x student!reader
summary: when tyler owens shows up in our meteorology class to give a guest lecture, you are left just as speechless as all the other girls. but, tyler is just as awestruck by you.
word count: 2.9k
a/n: i COMPLETELY made up some science stuff for some dialogue, so if anybody actually knows stuff about meteorology or physics, this may be a little excruciating for you
part 2
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You flipped through your notes, jogging your memory on last week’s lecture. The lecture hall was silent. Half of the students were falling asleep. The other half were cramming and finishing assignments for other classes.
Your professor came running through the door. Her shoes squeaked on the floor. “Sorry I’m late. I got caught in the rain.” She quickly apologized, setting her bag down at her desk.
You grabbed a pen out of your bag, preparing to start your notes as your professor got settled in.
“We have a surprise guest speaker today for you all, who should be here in just a minute.” She announced to the class. There was a collective sigh from the room. Guest lecturers were notoriously boring and seemed to drag on and on about nothing.
You started doodling in your notebook, mentally preparing for the longest two hours of your life.
“I know as meteorology students, you are all aware of the storm chaser Tyler Owens and his YouTube channel.” She began to introduce the guest.
A few of the students perked up at the mention of Tyler’s name, including you. You were a big fan of Tyler and watched most of his videos. You tried to not get your hopes up, assuming the guest speaker was just going to be someone on his team.
You started to zone out, your thoughts drifting to the marvelous Tyler Owens. He was a mix of supermodel meets daredevil scientist. He’d been a guilty pleasure crush of yours for a while.
You were brought out of your thoughts when you heard your professor say “Please give a warm welcome to Mr. Owens.”
Your eyes snapped up and landed on Tyler walking to the front of the room. You mentally cursed your decision to sit in the third row. You felt too exposed being somewhere that Tyler Owens could see you.
The presence of Tyler at the front of the room grabbed everyone’s attention. The few students who were fans of his work got excited to see one of their idols. The girls in the room that didn’t know who he was perked up because Tyler was the perfect mix of handsome and rugged.
“Thank you, Dr. Hannigan,” Tyler thanked your professor for introducing him.
Tyler’s eyes drifted around the room. As he became more of a niche celebrity, he was getting used to being ogled by a room full of girls. Wherever he went, there were girls waiting and drooling over him.
You sat up straighter in your seat, feeling thankful today was the day you chose to dress cuter than normal.
Tyler’s eyes landed on you. There was something different about you. All the other girls were staring at his muscles, while you weren’t an exception to that, there was more to it. You were hanging on to every word he said. He could see your interest in not just him, but what he was talking about.
His eyes ran over your body before continuing with his next point. You felt your skin heat up under his gaze. You quickly crossed your legs and tried to distract yourself from the aching between your legs.
He made a few jokes relating back to tornadoes. Each one was met with a room full of flirty giggles. Half of them didn’t even sound like they understood the jokes.
You weren’t blaming them for ogling him. His very presence in front of you made you think God was sending you a treat to apologize for how catastrophic midterm week had been.
But, you were at least paying attention to what he was talking. Some were just picturing him naked.
“So, what my team is currently working on is efforts to deescalate, or for lack of a better word, control tornadoes.” He started to explain his work. The facade of a tornado-wrangling cowboy had the entire class enthralled.
All of a sudden, before you knew what you were doing, your hand shot up in the air. You didn’t process that you’d actually have to speak to Tyler if you wanted to ask him a question.
His eyes quickly met yours. He was eager to finally have a question to answer. “Let me guess, you’re gonna say it’s science fiction? That it’s scientifically impossible?” He asked you, anticipating the usual feedback he got.
You just smirked and shook your head. “I was going to ask if your work had anything to do with the Lawson’s theory of balance and imbalance?” You asked, fidgeting with your pencil.
Tyler furrowed his brow and had to stop his jaw from dropping. It wasn’t often that people could debate back and forth with him and challenge him.
The class waited as you caught him off guard. “She’s one of our brightest students.” Dr. Hannigan said, from her desk off to the side. You felt yourself sit up a little straighter as you stumped one of your idols.
You weren’t what was Tyler was expecting at all.
“You know what? You’re absolutely spot on. You want to come up here for a second and help me out?” He asked you. The heat rushed to your cheeks and your palms started sweating.
You quickly walked down the stairs to the front of the room. Tyler eyes stayed glued to you the whole time you walked towards him. “Tyler,” He repeated with a smile, reaching out to shake your hand.
You felt goosebumps as his strong hand grabbed yours. “Y/N,” You struggled to even find the words to introduce yourself. He noticed the electricity as your fingers grazed his.
He turned his attention back to the rest of the class. “So, to accommodate for Lawson’s theory, like Y/N mentioned, we have to do the opposite of what’s expected. Storms expect things. It’s just in their nature, so you have to do the unexpected.” He explained to the class.
He turned back to you, and your heart started beating faster. “Put your hands out in front of you, palms facing down.” He quietly instructed you. You quickly followed his directions.
“So, I’m gonna push against her hands. Since she’s expecting it, she’ll push back.” He said to the class. He took his hands and rested them under yours. He nodded and smiled at you, then he started pushing up on your hands.
You pushed back down against his hands. He was careful to not push too hard because he was much stronger than you. “See, there’s equal resistance.” He said, looking at how your hands stayed in the same place.
“Okay, now we’ll do it again, but this time we’ll use this.” He told you. Then, he fished something out of his pocket, and you realized it was a blindfold. He gently pulled it over your eyes, making sure not to pull on your hair. He placed his hands under yours again.
He softly counted down for you since you couldn’t see him, “3… 2… and 1…”
Instead of pushing against your hands, Tyler grabbed your hands and let you push his hands down with your own. You stumbled forward a step since there was no resistance.
Your hands instinctively reached out to keep yourself from falling and landed on his shoulders. He quickly grabbed your forearms, steadying you. You couldn’t see him, but he was smiling at you with a look of awe. You fascinated him.
He let go of your arms after you regained your balance. “Brilliantly done,” he whispered to you as he carefully took the blindfold off of you. You felt a shiver go down your back as his breath hit your neck.
“It’s all about doing the unexpected.” He said, to the class. Then, the bell chimed throughout the hall. “Alright, see you next week. Don’t forget about the reading.” Dr. Hannigan yelled over the rush of girls swarming towards Tyler.
You hurried back to your seat to grab your backpack. As Tyler was swarmed, his eyes stayed glued on you. He watched you as you walked away, grinning to himself.
Not wanting to get caught up in the swarm of girls, you grabbed your bag and ran off to your next class. Tyler lost you in the crowd, but couldn’t get you off his mind.
You were sitting in your next class when you got an email from Dr. Hannigan. It read: “I know you all had lots of questions for Mr. Owens, so he has agreed to host office hours at 3pm today in my office.”
You felt your stomach do a flip as you thought about being in a room with him again. You debated whether or not to go. You didn’t want to get swept up in another mad frenzy of girls hitting on Tyler, but you wanted to see him again.
Once your class ended, it was like your feet had a mind of their own as you found yourself walking towards your professor’s office.
It was a small office, so you expected to see a line out the door. It was eerily quiet, and you didn’t see anyone.
Turns out, if the words weren’t coming out of Mr. Tornado Dreamboat’s mouth, your peers weren’t interested. So, none of them checked their emails.
You softly knocked on the door and heard Tyler call out, “Yeah, come in.”
You slowly opened the door and stepped inside. Tyler lit up once he saw that it was you. He’d been hoping you’d show up.
You’d expected your professor to be here as well, so your nerves got worse when you realized the two of you were alone.
He was sitting at your professor’s desk. You noticed the playing cards lying on the desk, like he’d been playing Solitaire. “Slow day?” You asked, gesturing towards the cards.
He chuckled to himself and nodded. “Yeah, you’re the first person to show up.” He said, laughing. You sat down across from him and started to feel less nervous.
The giant desk between the two of you was a good deterrent to stop you from doing anything stupid like trying to kiss him.
“Thank you for helping out in class. I was dying for somebody to ask a question. Everyone was just staring. And I’m sorry for almost making you fall.” He started making small talk. The conversation flowed really naturally.
“I’m just really fascinated by your work. I have so many questions.” You said, smiling back at him. He could see the enthusiasm on your face, and he knew you weren’t faking anything.
“Oh yeah, Dr. Hannigan sent me your midterm paper a few weeks ago. It was pretty brilliant stuff. I was trying to figure why your name sounded familiar. I think that’s why. You should come out for a ride sometime. Get some field experience. I’d love to take you.” He praised you.
You couldn’t help but get a little bashful. Your idol, who you had a massive crush on, was praising your work and wanted to work with you. The thought of spending time alone with Tyler out in the field was enough to make your stomach do flips.
“You really read my paper? I brought it with me. I wanted to ask your opinion on some things.” You said, grabbing your paper out of your bag. He nodded, enthusiastically.
He wheeled his chair around to your side of the desk, so he was sitting right next to you. Your nerves that had been starting to fade were back in full force. It was different when Tyler was two inches away from you. He leaned his arms on the desk, his one arm pressing up against yours.
You could smell his cologne, and it was all you could think about. Your mind was just a blur of cedar and hints of vanilla. “So, I umm…what I wa-wanted to show you was…” you mumbled, flipping through your paper.
Tyler softly smirked to himself. He interrupted you and put his hand on top of your paper, forcing you to look at him. “Do I really make you that nervous?” He asked you, barely above a whisper.
Your eyes were glued on his. His deep emerald eyes drawing you in. You couldn’t even muster up a response. You were speechless as you watched how intently he stared back at you.
“Yeah? I make you nervous, honey?” He asked, in a softer tone. The pet name took you by surprise. A muffled whine escaped your lips. You hadn’t realized you made the sound until you heard it. He held your chin, stopping you from looking away.
You quickly crossed your legs, trying to ignore the way he was making you feel. He brushed a piece of hair out of your face.
“I guess we’ll just have to find a way to loosen you up then.” He teased. The words went straight to your core.
Tyler watched the way you swallowed as you tried to collect your thoughts. “I need to know if you’re okay with this, honey. Gotta use your words,” he coaxed you.
“Please, Tyler,” you begged him.
He smirked and grabbed your hips. He effortlessly picked you up and sat you on the edge of the desk. “You were distracting me so badly when I was giving my lecture. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” He said, toying with the hem of your skirt.
Tyler didn’t believe his ears when he heard you whimper. His eyes shot up to lock onto yours. “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll take real good care of you.” He assured you.
He pressed sloppy kisses along your jawline. You raked your fingers down Tyler’s back. He continued to play with the fabric of your skirt. With a burst of confidence, you grabbed his hand and placed it on your bare upper thigh, under your skirt.
Tyler stopped kissing you. A cocky grin grew on his face. “That was so fuckin’ hot,” he groaned, kissing your lips. You hungrily kissed him back. His thumb caressed the inside of your thigh.
Following your lead, he let his hand sneak higher up your leg. He could feel you getting more desperate. As his hand got closer to where you wanted him most, he could feel your skin growing hot.
He ran his thumb over your panties, feeling a small wet spot. Your moan was muffled as he kissed you.
He started to pull your panties to the side, and you both heard the doorknob start to jiggle.
You both quickly pulled apart, and he set you on the ground. You managed to quickly smooth out your skirt and grab your backpack.
The door opened, and you recognized one of your classmates. “Hey, welcome in,” Tyler waved at them, pretending he wasn’t pissed that you got interrupted.
You watched as Tyler discreetly wiped his hand on the back of his jeans. “Those were all the questions I had. Thank you for your help.” You thanked Tyler before rushing out the door.
Tyler wanted to run after you, but he couldn’t now that someone was watching.
You practically ran back to your apartment. You didn’t want to show your face. Of course, no one knew about your meeting with Tyler, but you felt like everyone knew.
You were worried that other student found the whole thing suspicious. And what if he told your classmates or Dr. Hannigan? Soon, the whole campus would know you were the girl that tried to fuck a guest lecturer.
You spent the evening binge watching your favorite tv show. You hoped it would distract you from your embarrassment, but it didn’t. You were brought out of your thoughts when you got another email from Dr. Hannigan.
“Good evening class. I’m glad you all enjoyed the guest lecturer today. Mr. Owens told me he was very impressed by all of you and your interesting questions. I forgot to mention it in class, but his team currently is seeking an intern to work with them over spring break. I highly recommend that all of you apply. You can email Mr. Owens at tyowens@gmail.com. Best, Dr. Hannigan.”
You stared at the email address, deciding what to do. It would be a great opportunity. Tyler could really teach you a lot. But now, the thought of seeing Tyler made you want to hide in your bed.
You quickly deleted the email, so you couldn’t change your mind and went to bed.
The next two weeks were completely normal. You’d almost completely forgotten about your almost-hookup with Tyler. The only time he popped in your head was when you were lying awake at night. You couldn’t get the thoughts of his fingers out of your head.
It was all fine. Until, Dr. Hannigan stopped you after class.
“Is this about my assignment? I know it was a few hours late. I’ve just been a little distracted recently. It won’t happen again.” You quickly apologized.
Dr. Hannigan shook her head. “Mr. Owens reached out to me about you.” She told you. You panicked.
“What did he say?” You asked, trying to not sound too desperate.
There was no reason for Tyler to tell Dr. Hannigan about your almost-quickie. What if there were cameras? What if she knew? What if you got expelled? Your mind raced with different worst case scenarios.
“He said he was expecting you to apply for the internship, but he didn’t see an application from you. He was really impressed with your midterm paper, and he said the internship was yours if you wanted it. I think this would be a great opportunity for you, but it’s up to you. So, what should I tell him?” She asked you.
You were extremely flattered. Tyler wasn’t trying to avoid you. In fact, he basically had handpicked you to come work with him. You could turn it down.
“You can tell him I would love the opportunity.” You said, smiling at her.
taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @lillyssh-tposts @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @guacam011y @sw33t-cupid @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @visenyaverse @ruzannetheseahorse @superdeath @wandaswifeyforlifey @spookyqueen @mcuswhore @princess-evans-addict @n3ssm0nique @peakascum @cjand10 @namsey1987 @supernaturalstilinski @stephv213 @warriormirkwood @one-sweet-gubler @narliesstuff @bibissparkles @stupiidfrogs @navs-bhat @alipap3 @joeyfilth
Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!
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girlkisser13 · 5 months ago
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being married to remy lebeau would include
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• the two of you are CONSTANTLY flirting with each other, even well into your marriage. he still flirts with you like he’s meeting you for the first time.
• remy is the king of romance, always finding new ways to surprise you with gestures of love— whether it’s leaving a single red rose on your pillow or whisking you away for a spontaneous weekend getaway to a secluded part of new orleans.
• while he trusts your abilities, he can't help but be protective. he’ll often remind you to be careful when you're apart, and if there's even a hint of danger, he's the first one by your side.
• this man loves pda, especially light touches, like a kiss on the cheek or gently squeezing your hand when you’re nervous or worried. he’s always touching you in some way.
• your life together is never boring. from stealing priceless artifacts to taking down dangerous enemies, you two are an unstoppable team. you both enjoy the thrill of a good heist, and remy loves showing off his skills.
• remy insists on cooking for you, especially his favorite cajun dishes. he loves the look on your face when you take your first bite, and he’ll often cook together with you, enjoying the process as much as the food.
• he’s always there to listen and support you, no matter what. he knows how to lift your spirits when you're feeling down and provides comfort in the most challenging times.
• whether it’s on a rooftop under the stars or in your living room, remy LOVES to dance with you. he’s an incredible dancer, and he’ll often sweep you off your feet, leading you in a slow, intimate waltz.
• remy is known for keeping secrets, but with you, he’s open and honest. you both share your pasts, knowing that your love for each other is stronger than any mistake you've made.
• despite his very flirtatious nature, remy is deeply loyal to you. he never gives you a reason to doubt his love, always making it clear that you’re the most important person in his life.
• remy is a night owl, and he loves spending the late hours talking with you. these moments are filled with deep conversations, laughter, and secrets shared under the cover of darkness.
• he is quite the gentleman. he’ll opens doors for you, pulls out chairs, and always insists on carrying heavy things. his manners are impeccable, even if his moral compass isn't always perfectly aligned.
• if the two of have children, he is extremely protective of them. he always makes sure to prioritize them and spend time with them.
• this mostly comes from his experience of being neglected and he doesn’t want his loved ones ever feeling that because of him.
• the two of you rarely ever argue, but when you do, it’s intense— remy’s fiery nature combined with his strong opinions can make things heated. but he’s also quick to apologize, realizing that your relationship is too important to let anything come between you. <33
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spencerreidenjoyer · 6 months ago
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could you do some fluff about spencer and reader sitting together on the jet? maybe like a time where it’s late and they’re on the way home from a case, and they’re the only ones awake and just chatting and being all cute?
mile-high | spencer reid x reader
wc: 680, rating: everyone
tags: mutual pining, mutual crushes, idiots in love, best friends, (un)requited love (they just don't know it yet)
a/n: hello anon! apologies for taking a while to respond to your lovely request. i was thinking for a while about what would work with this request and got inspired when i was writing this extremely tired lmao. i hope this is fluffy and cute enough for u!! can be read as gender neutral reader too since i didn't specify any gendered pronouns hehe. do not be misled by the title for there is in fact no mile-high club type tropes in this lmaoo
Your eyelids are heavy by the time the jet takes off back to Quantico. The team had been working overtime with a particularly enthusiastic spree killer, with so little cooldown time between kills that you all had no choice but to keep working the case until you had cracked it, culminating in an early morning raid of the UnSub’s ranch house-slash-lair. Spencer had a particularly satisfying moment of cuffing the UnSub, after being perplexed by his erratic movement as he was crafting the geographic profile.
You had watched Spencer down mug after mug of coffee for the past couple of days, and now, amidst the rest of the team dozing off, a still-awake Spencer still flips through his book rather quickly.
“Not tired?” You ask softly, trying not to wake the team.
“No, there’s still caffeine in my system.” Spencer purses his lips as he looks at you.
“I’m surprised you haven’t developed a tolerance toward caffeine yet,” you grin, shaking your head.
“It takes about a month for your body to get used to caffeine and its effects, which makes your body basically perform the same as when you aren’t caffeinated. But abstaining from caffeine over a couple of days usually resets your body’s response to it.”
You tilt your head. “Dr. Spencer Reid abstaining from coffee? I couldn’t imagine that happening.”
“I just opt for decaf,” he smiles at you, grin growing when you giggle.
Your eyelids feel so heavy, but all you want to do is talk to Spencer. You don’t often get time alone with him, which is maybe a blessing considering your crush on him. Maybe Hotch can tell how much you like him and doesn’t end up pairing you two off too often because he doesn’t want his best agents distracted – that’s what Emily always tells you, but you always brush her off.
“You look tired,” Spencer states, matter-of-factly.
“I am, but I can’t really fall asleep. I don’t wanna fall asleep.”
“Why not?” Spencer asks.
“Wanna talk to you,” you answer, a little too honest, and you don’t notice the surprised look on Spencer’s face, like it’s surprising that you want to talk to him. “I also usually need something to cuddle when I sleep.”
“But you’re tired,” Spencer repeats, even though you’re painfully aware of the fact. “You should rest.”
“I like talking to you,” you huff, perhaps a little petulant, but you’re secretly preening at all the attention Spencer is giving you right now.
Spencer nudges you with his shoulder. You whine, and look at him. Spencer says gently, “You can hold onto my arm. And lay your head on me if you want to.”
You slip your arm around Spencer’s, and it feels so right to be holding him close like this. It’s a little awkward, since Spencer’s not totally used to physical touch, but you’re taking any chance you can get to be close to him. “You’re comfortable.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Spencer chuckles. “Especially if it means you’ll get some rest.”
“No,” you retort. “Just because you’re letting me cuddle you does not mean I’m going to fall asleep.”
Spencer snorts. “Sure.”
“I’m not going to fall asleep, Spence,” you say, snuggling closer to him.
Spencer just hums.
“I’m a drooler, just so you know,” you say, like you’re trying to scare him off. Frankly, you’re just trying to tease him.
“That’s okay.”
“I’m–” you cut yourself off with a stifled yawn, and you glare at Spencer when he casts you a knowing smirk. “I’m not!”
“Okay, you aren’t falling asleep,” Spencer echoes. “But do you want me to read you my book?”
You close your eyes, smiling as you nod. You don’t see the sweet way Spencer smiles down at you, and before he’s even done with the first two pages of whatever he was reading, you’re out like a light.
You don’t feel the way Spencer pushes your hair out of your face, and the way his thumb gently brushes your cheek.
Maybe one day, he’ll have the confidence to do that when you’re awake.
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hoshifighting · 6 months ago
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seventeen getting caught masturbating
seungcheol being caught masturbating by you was the last thing you expected tonight. seungcheol’s eyes widen in surprise before he quickly hides under the sheets, biting his lip in embarrassment. you can’t help but smirk as you approach, your hand wrapping around his cock through the fabric. his hips buck involuntarily, eyes rolling back, “oh god,” he moans desperately, unable to control himself. “you’re gonna make me cum,” he moans all sulky :(
jeonghan’s usually composed demeanor crumbles. he’s shyer than he thought he’d be, yet he keeps his eyes glued to you, stroking himself. “help me or leave,” he whispers, his voice shaky. you move closer, and his breath hitches, knowing he’s close to the edge just from your presence.
joshua gasps, scrambling to dress himself. but your presence in the doorway, that sly grin on your face, stops him. he hesitates, then slowly starts to undress again, uncertainty and arousal blending in his eyes. “don’t just stand there,” he mutters, cheeks flushed, “come here.”
junhui’s reaction is almost comical in its speed. he covers himself in an instant, but when he realizes you’re not buying it, he gives in, voice soft with a plea. “can you help me?” he asks, his need evident. you oblige, and the gratitude in his eyes is unmistakable as he falls apart under your touch.
hoshi doesn’t notice you at first, too lost in the sensations, eyes closed as he bucks into his hand. when he finally does see you, he screams, making you jump. even then, his hand doesn’t stop, a muffled moan slipping past his lips as he covers his mouth. “please,” he whispers, and you can’t resist helping him finish.
wonwoo when you open the door quietly, not expecting the sight before you. his body tenses immediately, his eyes wide with embarrassment. without his glasses, he only sees your silhouette, and he’s terrified. he scrambles to cover himself, but it’s too late. he mutters a quick, “sorry,” before bolting to another room, leaving you speechless in the doorway. the sound of a door slamming shut echoes down the hall. after a moment, the bathroom door opens, and there he is, dressed and composed, but still visibly flustered. he approaches you hesitantly, his hand reaching out to yours, and you know exactly what that means. “I guess I have no reason to be shy, right? after all, you seemed to like it...”
woozi immediately sulks, glaring at you. “you said you’d be home late,” he grumbles, but his grip on the sheets betrays him as you step nearer. you take him in hand, his protests dissolving into moans. “f-fuck, i’m so embarrassed, so embarassed” he stammers between breaths, but his hips don’t stop moving.
minghao is indignant at first. “don’t you know how to knock?” he snaps. you start to apologize, backing out, but he quickly changes his tune. “wait! c-can you help me?” he asks, his voice small.
mingyu is caught in the most embarrassing moment—right as he’s cumming. he barely has time to react, the embarrassment and orgasm hitting him simultaneously, his face contorting in pleasure as he finishes. “why did you have to walk in now?” but the way his body trembles shows he doesn’t reaaaally mind.
seokmin is too horny to care about embarrassment at first. “please help,” he begs immediately. once he cums, reality hits, and he runs away, all embarrassed, sulking about being caught in such a compromising position. “i can’t believe i asked you for help,” you can’t help but chuckle at his retreating form.
seungkwan tries to play it cool, pretending he hasn’t seen you, but you both know better. his face burns with embarrassment, yet there’s a flicker of something else. he knows you’re enjoying the sight, and he’s counting the seconds until you join him. “you like what you see?” “you gonna help or just watch?” he finally says, his bravado wavering.
vernon covers himself with a pillow, staring at you with wide eyes and pink cheeks. “help?” you offer, and he doesn’t even let you finish before saying, “yes! … please.” his voice is soooft! almost a whisper, but the need is clear.
chan grips the base of his cock tightly, trying to stop himself from cumming. “y-you scared me!” he exclaims, eyes wide as you close the door behind you. he gulps as you walk closer, his breath hitching. “are you going to finish what you started?” you ask.
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wileys-russo · 2 months ago
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mapi “surprised it could fit around my bicep”
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oh capitana II m.león
thinking back, you should have clocked your girlfriend was up to something the moment that cocky little smirk had settled on her face when you woke up in bed together.
instead you'd just assumed it had something to do with the activities you'd partaken in last night, the evidence which was scattered across both of your bodies, your chest in particular covered in an array of red and purple bruises.
"bon dia guapa!" the defender had greeted cheerily as you finally joined her in the kitchen after a shower, a plate of breakfast waiting you as she pushed you to sit down at the table, stealing a kiss and nudging your chair in.
"you are very smiley today maría." you chuckled at her clearly gleeful demeanor as she tucked into her own plate of eggs with a shrug. "why not? it is the first game of the season mi amor!" mapi beamed as you hummed, the pair of you quickly falling into regular conversation.
but now as you sat in the stands watching your girlfriend lead her team out with the captains armband snugly wrapped around her bicep, her behavior and glowingly cocky aura all morning suddenly made sense.
you'd of course figured it out for yourself when the team lineup was posted and you saw the little (c) by her name, but by then the dirty blonde was warming up and you had no way of being able to yell at her for withholding the news from you.
as much as you wanted to strangle her for the secret keeping you also couldn't deny the immense and overwhelming sense of pride which flooded you at watching her both play and lead her team brilliantly.
knowing mapi always made time for the fans after the match you busied yourself chatting with some of the other girls families who'd been at the game and sat nearby, having met most of them before.
but tired from a hard fought ninety plus minutes you didn't need to wait long, mapi appearing with a few of her teammates up in the family and friends section in what you'd deem as record time, the cool breeze of the late evening also discouraging most of them from staying out with the fans for too long as thunder clouds were forming up above.
meeting her eyes across the room you excused yourself from speaking with patri's cousin and stepped away, shaking your head slowly at your girlfriend who strode over with the same infuriatingly attractive smirk plastered on her face that had been there when you'd woken up in bed beside her this morning.
"hola princesa!" mapi grinned, hands on your hips as she pulled your body into hers, your arms still staying firmly crossed across your chest. "hola capitana." you quirked an eyebrow as her grin only widened.
"good surprise amor, sí?" mapi questioned with a smug smile, letting go of your hips to wrench your arms apart and forcefully wrapping them around her.
"see? much nicer bebita." mapi sighed happily, moving your arms back over her shoulders as you let them fall limply to your sides, giving in and hugging her properly with a small chuckle.
"tan irritante." you shook your head, your girlfriend kissing your cheek a few times with a mumbled apology as the two of you pulled away, your hand held securely in hers as she lifted it and kissed your knuckles with a charming smile and wiggle of her eyebrows.
though once alone together in the car the defenders confidence tripled, the same smug smile never once dropping from her lips for even a second as she drove the two of you back home, hand securely gripping your thigh.
"focus on the road león." you warned her for the third time as her hand moved higher, making it even harder to pretend the simple gesture wasn't affecting you as much as it was, not needing to give her anything else for an ego boost.
"lo siento bebita, i am just thinking about the ride you will be taking later." mapi shrugged, your eyes widening not missing the insinuation poorly hidden behind her words as her lips curled into a smug grin and you wrenched her hand off of you with a shake of your head.
"-surprised it could fit around my bicep, tan enorme!" mapi stretched her arms behind her head purposefully flexing as you closed the front door after her, the defender sending you a wink as you looked on unfazed.
"you are not as cute as you think, minúscula." you pinched her cheek and ducked under her arms, finally succeeding in getting the smugness to fade from her features.
"minúscula!" the tattooed spaniard scoffed in offence, her lack of height really the easiest way to hit at her ego most days when it was getting a little insufferable like right now.
"minúscula!" mapi repeated with a scowl, glaring at you from the middle of your bedroom as she tossed her dirty jersey to the side and you rolled your eyes.
"how many times maría? cuándo aprenderás." you huffed, picking it up and moving it to its proper place in the laundry basket, not in the middle of the floor where you'd be sure to trip over it lately.
"why do you always have to go after my height mi amor? you know it wounds me!" your girlfriend clutched at her heart dramatically as you rolled your eyes.
"you really should treat el capitána de barcelona, with a little more respect." the smug smile was back as she wiggled her eyebrows at you and you bit the inside of your cheek to stop a smile of your own forming.
"bien. do your washing then, capitana." you smacked her cheek playfully as again you ducked under her arm and out the door.
but you barely made it downstairs and two steps into the living room before her footsteps thundered down after you and suddenly you were in the air.
"maría!" you gasped as she spun you around and effortlessly dropped you onto the lounge on your back, pouncing on top of you before you could move an inch.
"i dijo, with a little more respect." mapi purred, grinning wolfishly as you suddenly noticed the new addition.
"en serio. you brought it home with you amor?" you sighed as the yellow and red armband was again wrapped around her bicep.
"eres bienvenido bebé." mapi smirked, sitting back on her heels and making a show of flexing her arms in different poses and pulling faces, grunting and posing like a body builder as you withheld the urge to smile.
"are you going to be giving up football for body building then tonta?" you shook your head at her theatrics. "maybe. what is it that the kids say? i am a tank." mapi grunted, continuing to pose and flex as you couldn't help but snicker.
"well there is no height restriction to body build, minúscula." you smirked beneath her as she stopped, tattooed arms suddenly either side of your head caging you in as her lips curled into a pout.
anything you went to say next was lost as she kissed you, much less softly or as sweetly as she normally would, often treating you as if you were made of glass and could shatter at a moments notice.
your hands tangled in her hair which for once was out, pulling her even closer as hers squeezed your hips, and before you could even blink she'd moved so that she was sitting up on the sofa and you were sat on her lap, lips not even disconnecting for a moment.
your breath hitched as mapi rolled your hips against hers, using the momentary lapse to slip her tongue into your mouth. "why do you always do that?" you pulled away as she smiled into the kiss.
"hacer qué? ven aquí bebita." mapi laughed, trying to lean in for another kiss as you ducked back.
"smile like a twelve year old boy getting a very first kiss!" you teased, thumbs tracing down her jaw with a shake of her head. "que? i do not!" mapi's eyebrows furrowed and another frustrated pout settled on her rosy pink lips.
"you do mi amor. every time we makeout, you smile like that." you shook your head, pressing your forehead against hers. "que? i can't be happy to kiss a pretty girl?" mapi smiled softly, rubbing her nose against yours making you let out a laugh.
"mi niña bonita." the defender whispered, stealing a kiss as her eyes shone with so much adoration you felt your cheeks heat up beneath the intensity of her lovesick gaze.
"capitánas are not supposed to be so soft." you teased, pecking her lips a few times but moving your head back as her mouth chased yours to deepen it.
"maría!" you squealed as she suddenly stood taking you with her and raced upstairs, your legs wrapped around her waist before suddenly your back was meeting the mattress and again she hovered on top of you.
"i show you how capitánas kiss? not so soft." mapi raised an eyebrow, fingers digging tighter into your hips pressing you down deeper into the bed with a smirk.
"when you smile it will be very soft." you teased again, her smirk melting into a cheeky grin as she flexed her arm and the bright yellow armband tensed around her bicep.
"cállate y besa a tu capitána."
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