#but please look at that C please look at him

[lokisgoodgirl]

Choke [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is here Summary: Just a horny drabble. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. (Light) Choking, smut. Kink/roleplay. (w/c 350) A/N: This drabble takes place in the content of couple's kink roleplay and safe, pre-agreed boundaries. Please research this before you ever try it IRL, and only with a partner you trust.

You’d never appreciated quite how large Loki’s hands were until one was wrapped around your throat.

"Choke me," you’d whispered as you rolled your hips, swallowing his cock deeper inside with every slow gyration. Loki’s brows had peaked, his movements slowing. But then, his knuckles had trailed between your breasts, up the exposed column of your throat, unfurling like a deadly flower: thumb at your pulse point, index finger pressing gently below your left ear.

"Like this?" he growled, squeezing gently. He knew exactly like that.

A thrill scorched between your legs. Your cunt tightened around him, and Loki’s eyes fluttered shut with a soft groan. "And they call me the villain," he murmured, thrusting at a glacial, devastating pace. With each roll of his hips, the pressure on your neck increased ever-so-slightly, his slender fingers slotting perfectly into the curve.

You traced over the hand, memorising the thick lines of his veins, the powerful sinews which had once wielded weapons which wrecked galaxies in another life. Now, they wrecked only you as he fucked you endlessly; loved you, endlessly.

In the low light, Loki’s half lidded eyes were pools of fresh tar-the slightest sliver of blue bordering blown irises as your breaths grew short. Dark curls hung sluttishly around the point of his jaw, his wet lips parted as he looked up at the woman pulsing on his cock in devilish wonder; his hand around her delicate, breakable throat.

"Is this how you want me to rule you?" he purred; a playful lilt of poison in its tenderness. You tried to nod and couldn’t.

"Yes…" you gasped.

"Yes?" His brows lifted expectantly.

"Sir."

"King," he corrected, using his free hand to push your hips deeper down the base of his cock. It ground your pussy against his pubic hair, across the flat plane of muscle beneath, guiding the growing orgasm which sparkled like moonlight on shifting waters.

Your vision swam, blood rushing.

Loki’s pressure loosened, one large thumb brushing over your lips and pulling the bottom one down. "I could crush you," he said sweetly, tilting his head with a light squint that made your brain scramble. "But…" He sighed: low, primal, filthy. "You know exactly how to fuck me. The only one in nine realms who can. So for now…"

The long fingers unfurled, pads brushing over your larynx, trimmed nails tracing the flush of your heated skin: tighter.

Tags in comments❤️

[rmadridcore]

NSFW Alphabet

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Requested

Word count: 2.3K

Warning: Smut! (Minors DNI)

Author’s note: Another request I had on my list that came just in time lmao 🤍 Enjoy, anon!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Aftercare with Jude is practically a ritual. No matter how intense the moment, he makes sure you end the night feeling cherished and at ease. He’s meticulous — cleaning you up with a warm cloth, whispering soft reassurances as he gently wipes away any lingering mess. If he’s gone rough, you’re guaranteed a warm bath where he’ll tenderly wash every inch of you, his touch as gentle as his words, massaging your skin with care. Jude gets extra affectionate afterward; he wants to be close, savoring the post-intimacy warmth with his arms wrapped tightly around you. For him, holding you is almost like another way of saying "I love you" and he needs you to feel that just as deeply.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On you, Jude is truly torn. He adores your eyes, especially how they’re filled with love, but also how they look when he’s making them roll back. Then there’s your hair — soft and fragrant, perfect for his hands to pull when he’s got you on all fours or on your knees. Naturally, he’s captivated by your body, your curves, but if he had to pick a favorite, it’s your lips. Those soft, inviting lips that kiss him tenderly, speak words of love, and do...other things that drive him crazy. The way your lips look wrapped around him or just lightly kissing his fingers, or how they brush over his sensitive spots; it’s irresistible.

For himself, it’s between two: he loves his hands, for what they can do to you — massaging, exploring, or lifting you closer when you’re arched back. And, well, his other favorite…take a lucky guess. But those hands of his? They’re his pride and joy when it comes to you.

C = Cum (anything to do with come, basically)

Jude’s favorite place to is definitely inside you. It’s like he’s on another level when he feels your warmth around him, holding him close — he loves how intimate and possessive it feels, and nothing compares to hearing you ask for it. That alone drives him wild. But if he’s feeling extra smug, he’ll finish on you, usually your face. He loves seeing his release on your lips or the stray drops on your lashes, and the way you look with him still covering you leaves him in awe.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Jude loves marking you, even if he rarely admits it. Knowing the hickeys he left are hidden away on your thighs or chest makes him feel smugly possessive. When he’s in a more playful mood, though, he’ll leave them somewhere visible and watch you try to hide them the next day. Seeing you subtly covering up the spots, his love bites just barely hidden, makes him lose his mind.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Jude’s had his fair share of experiences, he’s learned a lot over time and he definitely knows what he’s doing. But with you, he’s dedicated to learning you — he’s incredibly observant and pays attention to all the tiny details about what you like. Every sigh, every shiver, he notes it down mentally, building a whole guide to pleasing you specifically. His experience shows, but he doesn’t coast on it, he’s always looking to make each moment even better, to discover new ways to make you feel good. He’s invested in making every time together feel like it’s just for you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves anything that lets him see you. Whether it’s missionary, or having you on his lap facing him, or you riding him, Jude is addicted to watching you. Seeing your face flushed and eyes struggling to stay focused on him? It’s everything he wants. The way your expression changes when he’s deep inside you, seeing every little reaction up close — it just drives him to keep going, to watch you unravel bit by bit under his touch.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous etc.)

Jude’s mood is flexible, sometimes he’s lighthearted, laughing softly and whispering silly things to make you giggle. Other times, he’s intensely focused, his full attention on you, dead serious about making you feel every inch of his passion. But no matter the mood, his smugness is always there; he can’t help those teasing remarks and that cocky grin, even at the height of intimacy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is definitely a man who takes pride in keeping himself well-groomed. His hair on top is always styled and maintained, and it’s no different down below. He keeps everything tidy and natural, making sure he’s clean and presentable for you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

With Jude, it’s all about intimacy. He knows that true intimacy is about genuine connection, and he feels that connection with you. His favorite moments are when he’s as close to you as possible, his gaze holding yours if you can keep your eyes open long enough. He’s deeply romantic, telling you all the things he adores about you as he kisses down your body. His intensity and passion grow when he’s with you — nothing matters more to him than making you feel cherished and loved.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Jude likes to jack off, obviously. Who doesn’t? When you’re not around, he’ll definitely take matters into his own hands, but he much prefers if you’re on the other end of a phone or FaceTime call with him. If that’s not possible, he has a stash of Polaroids he’s snapped of you, his favorites that he keeps hidden away to help him out when he needs it. To him, nothing compares to the real thing, but he’ll make do when he’s missing you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

This man has the most obvious praise kink. When you tell him how good he’s making you feel or how much you love what he’s doing to you, it’s all he needs to melt into a mess. The more you praise him, the more he ramps up his efforts, practically obsessed with hearing your approval. There are moments when your compliments even make his cheeks heat up, and that vulnerability drives him to work harder, making him practically feral in his need to satisfy you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

While he’s up for a lot as long as you two have privacy, his favorite place will always be the bed. It’s where he can fully take his time, exploring you without limits. The bed gives him the freedom to do whatever he pleases with you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It’s honestly everything about you, he’s helplessly attracted to every detail. However, nothing drives him crazier than seeing you in his jersey, with his name and number on the back. He can’t get over the sight of “Bellingham” and “5” emblazoned across your shoulders; it’s a powerful reminder that you’re his, and he’s yours. If you wear it around the house, you’re almost guaranteed to end up pinned against a wall, bent over a counter, or pulled onto his lap as he can’t resist making the most of the moment.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’s quite open-minded and loves experimenting with new things together, but he has hard boundaries, and bringing other people into your sex life is a firm no. He’s fiercely protective over your bond and can’t even stomach the idea of sharing you with anyone else. Naturally, anything that might hurt or make you uncomfortable is off the table; that goes without saying.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Jude’s mouth was made to worship you — or so he often tells you with a smirk. He’s got serious skill, and he knows how to use it. When he’s between your thighs, it’s his favorite place, and he’s almost desperate as he laps you up, savoring every moment like it’s his last. He’s obsessed with making you come on his tongue and has to physically restrain himself from keeping his mouth on you for hours.

As for you going down on him, that’s a whole different high. Seeing you on your knees, with that gleam in your eyes and your tongue teasing him, brings him to his limit almost instantly.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

His pace varies with his mood, and he loves mixing it up. If he’s been yearning for you all day or feeling a bit possessive, he can get lost in a faster, rougher rhythm, his need for you overpowering everything else. But when the moment’s tender, like on your anniversary or after he’s missed you, it’s slow, steady, and dripping with affection. Every thrust is measured, intimate, filled with soft kisses, whispered promises, and hand-holding. He knows exactly when to be soft or rough, and it keeps things electric between you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Though quickies can be fun, Jude doesn’t favor them. He loves savoring every moment and finds it hard to rush through it; he’d much rather have the time to build up and bring you to the edge slowly. For him, foreplay is essential, and when he doesn’t have the time for all that care and buildup, he’s usually happier waiting until you can fully enjoy each other. That way, the anticipation only makes everything feel even more intense.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

You and Jude are both open to some risks, but you two tend to prioritize safety and privacy. The thrill is there, but he’d never want you both to risk getting caught in any real trouble. However, that doesn’t mean he’s a complete angel: he’s sneaked a hand under your dress at a fancy dinner, given you that mischievous smile, or pressed his hand over your mouth in rooms where you could easily be overheard. Those little thrills are more than enough for him, and they make every private moment afterward even more cherished.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Jude’s stamina is borderline legendary. He’s trained as a top athlete, and while he’s only human, you might be convinced he’s superhuman with how long he can last. He has a strict rule of making you cum at least once before he even thinks of reaching his own high, ensuring you’re completely taken care of. He’s always ready to go for more rounds than you might expect, coaxing you to “give him one more,” until you’re out of breath and only his name remains on your lips.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He enjoys keeping things interesting, so he has a few favorites like handcuffs, a blindfold, and a vibrator for when he’s in the mood to tease. But more than anything, he loves relying on his own body, his hands, mouth, and everything in between, to make you scream his name. He believes his personal touch is more satisfying than any toy could ever be.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Jude is, without a doubt, the king of teasing. This is because he has learned all the tiny, almost unnoticeable things that turn you on and he exploits them like a motherfucker. He’ll make you flustered with a single look, drag out the anticipation until you’re practically begging, and won’t even touch you until he knows you’re fully aching for him. He loves seeing you on edge, desperate, and completely at his mercy.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He knows how much you enjoy his sounds, so he doesn’t hold back. His deep, husky grunts, the way he moans in that accent, and his whispered, filthy words keep you coming undone. He’s vocal because he knows his sounds drive you wild, and he loves to let you know exactly how good you make him feel.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He’s got a thing for mirror sex. He loves watching you watch yourself as he has his way with you, making you see just how needy and beautiful you are. It’s a game for him — if you close your eyes or look away, he’ll slow his pace and tease you until you’re back to looking at the reflection. It’s a control thing, and he absolutely relishes seeing you struggle to keep your eyes open.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

“Impressive” doesn’t quite do him justice. Jude’s perfectly large and proportional, the kind of fit that has you thinking about him hours after he’s left. When he’s fully hard and deep inside you, it’s a feeling you never get used to, almost as if he’s about to split you in half.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Jude’s sex drive is fairly high, almost perpetually ready to show you how much he loves you. If he’s not dealing with major stress from his career, he’s pretty much down anytime, anywhere. Just a hint of flirtation or a touch from you is often all it takes to get him started.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As much as Jude loves sleep, he never nods off until he knows you’re completely settled. Watching you fall asleep in his arms, seeing your breathing slow and your face at ease — it gives him his own kind of peace. Once he’s sure you’re comfortable and content, then he lets himself drift off, happy to have you curled up beside him.

[gojoscinnamonroll]

thinking about messing with ino! while he’s in the middle of a video game; he has been playing on that stupid game for what feels like hours and even though he’ll ask you every 10 minutes or so, “baby, are you okay?” “princess, do you need anything?” etc etc, you were still annoyed on how his video game had more of his attention than you.

so, when you finally got fed up and bored of lying on his bed scrolling mindlessly on tiktok, pinterest, instagram, and twitter on rotation for what feels like eons, you set your phone down and with a mischievous grin, walked over to him in his gaming chair and got on your knees. “whatcha doin’ pretty baby?” he asked with his eyes still glued to the screen, “oh, nothing… don’t mind me, just go back to playing your game ‘kay?” you looked up at him with a innocent smile. but in your head, you were thinking about how you were going to punish him for giving his attention to a stupid game on a tv than you being right in front of him and in his presence.

you started caressing at the bulge in his grey sweatpants and his breath hitched. ino was trying really hard to lock in and focus on getting his victory royale but he also wanted to just throw his controller across the room & watch you take him. “what’s wrong baby? thought you were too focused on your game? hm?” giving him a playful smile as you pull his length out of his sweatpants, pumping it a few times before pressing a kiss to his swollen tip already oozing with pre. "I- I am baby.." he exhaled as you felt him melt into your touch. you licked along the vein trailing down his cock slowly before enveloping him with your soft lips. he let out a low whine as you slowly take him whole. he didn't realize his character in game was dying over and over from being shot at because it wasn't moving until you stopped to look up at him with doe eyes and glossy lips, "focus.." you purred. "your game isn't going to win itself now is it?" he snapped out of his daze to focus on his game again, "y-yeah, you're right" he stuttered with flushed cheeks. you went back to stroking him again with delicate hands and your pretty mouth.

"f-fuuck mama, you f-feel so good" ino moaning as your head goes up and down him and gently playing with his balls overstimming him as he tries to concentrate on winning his game. teasing him, you trail a few kisses up and down his length as you murmured against him, "I'm sure I do..." still leaving kisses. "too bad you don't give your poor little girlfriend the same amount of attention as your silly little game."

whimpering, he starts to profusely apologize, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry baby, I'll get off the game and give you all my attention, I p-promise, you're making me feel so good, I-"

you interrupt him. "win this game for me and I'll let you be a good boy and cum down my throat" tapping his tip onto your pink, glossy pout with a pretend thinking face.

his eyes light up like a kid in a candy store and starts spamming all types of buttons on his controller eager to win this game as you continue to bobble down his cock, drool spilling from the sides of your lips and getting so sloppy that you can practically blow bubbles on him.

VICTORY ROYALE!! pops up and takes over the screen of the tv and he starts blabbering as he starts thrusting himself into your mouth, "baby baby baby baby can I- mmph.. can I c-cum please, please can I cum?" he throws the controller to the other side of the room and starts gripping onto the armrests of the game chair until his knuckles started turning white. "c'mon you nerd," you looked at him with lust in your eyes, "give it to me." as you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out for him to release his load down your throat.

"thankyouthankyouthankyou" he rambled as you milked him for all he had. "learned your lesson? you goof." you laughed.

"yes. yes i did." getting up from the chair and kicking the rest of his sweats off and throwing them to the side to lean down and pick you up princess style and laying you down in the bed.

"now i'm going to make it up to you, your highness" kissing your hand teasingly and sliding your shorts off.

likes + reblogs appreciated <3 please don't steal/copy/modify my works!

[ssa-dado]

Three Stages of Truth - SOS

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff and a lot of fun bits Summary: After years of adhering to the FBI's "no dating coworkers" policy, you and Aaron finally crossed the line, keeping your relationship hidden behind a professional facade. The team, amused by your strict boundaries, continuously poked fun at your stoic, near-platonic interactions. Despite this, once you were home, everything changed. Three fun scenarios lead to one undeniable truth. Warnings: probably there's a short NSFW bit, nothing scandalous, minors can probably still interact (?) idk sue me Word Count: 10.4k Dado's Corner: The first two parts are heavily inspired by the delightfully unhinged brainrots exchanged with @c-losur3 (bless your criminally brilliant lawyer mind, this is all pure comedy). Finally expanded into something more fun… or at least, I hope so! Hopefully I met your expectations with your request, took some creative liberties just to keep you on your toes :)

masterlist

Arthur Schopenhauer, German philosopher, once said: “All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.”

---

Stage one: “First, it is ridiculed.”

If there was one defining characteristic that bound you and Aaron together more than any other, it was your deeply ingrained sense of duty.

Duty to the job, to the rules, to the team.

This profound sense of responsibility was what held you apart for so long, faithfully upholding the FBI's strict "no dating coworkers" policy, a rule neither of you dared to transgress.

It was that deep sense of responsibility that kept you and Aaron apart for so long, both of you strictly adhering to the FBI’s “no dating coworkers” rule. It was a line neither of you dared to cross… until, one day, you did.

When you finally took that step, it wasn’t as if everything suddenly became easier. If anything, your dedication to your roles only deepened. Years of hiding your true feelings had trained you well, knowing how to navigate each other’s professional boundaries came almost naturally.

And it wasn’t just about personal pride or discipline - it was about a shared commitment to keeping the team dynamic intact and not letting personal matters disrupt the work you were all so devoted to.

Worried that your relationship might disrupt that delicate balance, you both chose to keep it private for as long as possible. Every interaction at the office was carefully managed, every glance controlled. Even in moments when you wanted to let your guard down, you reminded yourselves what was at stake.

And when you finally told the team, it wasn’t accompanied by a sigh of relief or a relaxing of your professional façade, instead, you doubled down.

Pure stoicism.

No touching.

No lingering eye contact.

What the team found undeniably funny - and maybe enjoyed a little too much - was that back when you and Hotch were just “partners”, you were actually more relaxed around each other: a comforting hand on the shoulder every once in a while, sitting close together on the jet, chatting easily about anything and everything.

Now, you barely allowed yourselves even a fleeting glance. You maintained such deliberate distance that every rare look felt like you were cautiously measuring out tiny doses of affection from a secret reserve.

"Why don’t you two just kiss in front of us once, so we can actually remember you’re a couple?" they would jest during briefings, fully aware that the likelihood of such a display was on par with the office coffee machine working on a Monday morning.

However, this only seemed to encourage them to find even more creative ways to poke fun at you. During tactical briefs, a simple "Pass the stapler, please," from you to him could warrant theatrical gasps and someone fanning themselves as if witnessing an affair.

Or watching you navigate the halls with military precision, they’d nudge each other, whispering dramatically, "Alert, potential accidental eye contact in three, two, one... Oh, never mind, false alarm!"

In reality, the one thing that could actually make you falter was when the case wrapped up and all the tension, the sleepless nights, everything came down to a single moment.

All you both wanted was to collapse into each other’s arms, but instead, the only physical contact you allowed yourselves was a strangely formal handshake - stiff and awkward, yet somehow managed to carry the weight of all the unspoken longing between you, a small tradition of yours.

"Good job catching the unsub," you’d say, your voice steady, though your eyes shimmered with a warmth reserved just for him.

"Good job deciphering the pattern," Aaron would reply. His tone was calm, but his eyes lingered on yours a moment too long, betraying his deeper emotions.

In a daring whisper, you might lean in closer and murmur, "You looked insanely hot in that vest. I’m dying to jump your bones right now."

"I know, darling, but we can't," Aaron would reply, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "And by the way, if you could stop tying your hair up when I’m around, it would make things a lot easier."

You and Aaron had mastered the art of subtle flirtation, weaving little moments of connection into the everyday rhythm of work. Casual comments, quiet glances, nothing obvious, just enough to remind each other of what was waiting for you both at the end of the day.

If someone happened to get too close, you could easily switch back into "professional mode," talking about the case with ease, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

But once you were home, everything changed.

The moment the door closed behind you, it was like a switch flipped. Suddenly, you were no longer bound by the rules of the office. In your shared space, the weight of professional conduct melted away. You could finally let go - drop your bags, let the tension fade - and just reach for him. Your arms would find their way around his neck, as if you'd been waiting for this all day.

“Long day?” he’d ask, voice softened in a way that no one else ever heard.

“Long,” you’d murmur back, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before you even realized you’d missed him. “But I think I can be persuaded to relax,” you’d add, letting a sly smile tug at your lips.

He’d shake his head, but his hands would find your waist, pulling you close. “I’m sure you’re very persuadable,” he’d reply, and the warmth in his voice would melt away whatever stress lingered from the day.

There was no one to see you both now, no one to maintain appearances for, and the freedom was almost intoxicating.

You’d end up on the couch, half-curled into his side, legs intertwined, as you both debriefed each other not just on the day’s work but on everything that made you who you were, stealing kisses every few minutes just because you could.  

When paperwork demanded attention, it quickly transformed into another reason to stay close. You’d find yourself on Aaron’s lap, either at the dining table or settled into the couch, one arm draped around his neck as you both tried - mostly in vain - to concentrate on the documents in front of you.

More often than not, the papers would end up slightly crumpled, bearing witness to the playful struggles and distractions that ensued whenever one of you became too immersed in the task - or, more accurately, when the task became anything but the focus.

With a subtle wiggle, ostensibly just an innocent adjustment, you grinned up at him. “This is just more comfortable,” you declared, your tone overly serious as if you hadn’t used that same excuse every time you sat on his lap.

His eyes narrowed, a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Comfortable for you, maybe,” he murmured, his hands settling on your waist, fingers drawing slow, deliberate circles on your skin that sent your heart racing.

You stretched, arching slightly, your lips brushing the spot behind his ear that you knew he loved. "Are you saying you’re uncomfortable, Agent Hotchner?" you teased, your lips still grazing his skin, before pulling back to face him as though nothing had happened. "Because we can always switch back to a more professional arrangement."

He chuckled, a rich, low sound that reverberated against your ear. "It’s only unprofessional if we’re caught," he replied, as your hand began to roam up and down the middle of his chest, your movements slowed by the bumps of his shirt buttons.

You feigned shock, your hand pausing in its path up his chest. "SSA Hotchner, suggesting we shirk our duties? I'm scandalized." Your tone was light, teasing, your fingers now slipping beneath his shirt to trace the warm skin of his torso. His slight gasp was your reward, and you pressed your advantage, your touch bold and exploring.

"And yet, you're not too scandalized to stop what you're doing, are you?" he observed, his gaze lowering to the chaos of papers that had begun to scatter across the table as you moved to straddle him, your knees pressing into the cushions on either side of his hips. He immediately moved his hands to rest on your waist.

"Shock makes us irrational," you quipped, biting your lower lip. Your left hand rested at the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his hair to draw him closer, while your right hand played provocatively with the belt loop of his trousers.

His eyebrow arched, a sculpted line of mock sternness that didn't quite mask the flicker of desire in his eyes. As your fingers playfully tugged at his belt, a barely audible hitch caught in his throat. “Oh, I think the real shock came last week,” he murmured, his voice a low, tantalizing tease, “when you chose to critique my punctuation on that witness statement  - while we were busy on the coffee table. And, of course, it wasn’t even an error.”

You paused, holding his gaze with a look of feigned innocence, your hands slid slowly over his shoulders, fingers tracing the hard lines of his upper back as you leaned in closer. "I never said it was an error. I just suggested that a semicolon would’ve made that paragraph flow better." Your fingers danced closer to the waistband of his trousers, hinting at further provocations yet to come.

"And you expected a revision on the spot?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, his voice a blend of amusement and disbelief. "You’re lucky that I was too distracted by other things." He adjusted your positioning slightly, sliding your hands from your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him so that the closeness allowed you to feel the firm pressure of his arousal.

“Lucky?! Look, it’s not my fault that, in that position, all I could see were your terrible stylistic choices,” you breathed out, your voice a sultry whisper as you began to kiss along the side of his face, tracing a path from his forehead down to his ear. “They were staring me in the face, begging to be corrected.”

His response was a teasing smile, his eyes alight with mirth as he leaned in, his lips barely brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. “You could’ve told me, and we could’ve tried something else.”

“Oh, no chance,” you retorted boldly, your smile laden with mischief. “From now on, it’s sex on the coffee table or nothing .”

He smirked, starting to place wet kisses on your neck, letting sounds escape from you. "Alright, but don't start complaining about ink smudges on your blouse this time."

"There won’t be any smudges if you just took it off. There’s a reason undressing is the first rule in the manual, you know?" you raised an eyebrow as you guided his hand from your waist up to your breasts, earning an amused look from him as he began unbuttoning your blouse.

And, inevitably, the papers would crinkle beneath you both, completely forgotten, scattering in a mess neither of you cared about. The only certainty was that later you would need to reprint half of those, but that's exactly why you had invested in a printer for your home office in the first place.

And, inevitably, the papers would crinkle beneath you both, forgotten, replaced by the quiet, magnetic pull that seemed to dissolve every responsibility the moment you were alone together.

Then, there were the slower nights, the ones where words weren’t necessary. You’d find yourselves wrapped up in a blanket, his arm around you, your head resting on his chest as you listened to his heartbeat, each beat sounding more like home.

He loved to stroke your hair, twisting the strands between his fingers. He would trace the curve of your shoulder, his touch a promise that echoed in the walls of your empty house, all without needing to say a thing.

Until he would.

"I love you," he'd say, quiet but direct, because he knew how much words meant to you and always would. It didn’t matter if it was the twentieth time he said it that day, he would keep saying it, never once straying from his purpose.

"I love you too, Aaron," you'd reply smiling, looking up at him, watching the way his eyes softened. His hand would brush yours, fingers intertwining in that familiar dance that he always led to his mouth, kissing your hand while still intertwined with his.

When he caught you blushing, though, that’s when the real teasing would start. “Are you blushing?” he’d ask, eyes twinkling with amusement as he leaned in closer, his grin widening as he watched the flush spread down your neck.

“Maybe,” you’d huff, trying to look away, though he wouldn’t let you, his fingers lifting your chin so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed, you know that?” he’d murmur, his voice a low rumble, making it impossible to resist smiling.

“Pretty sure you’re blushing too, Hotchner,” you’d shoot back, arching an eyebrow. And sure enough, a faint hint of pink would dust his cheeks, and he’d laugh, pulling you into another kiss.

“Guess we’re both fools, then,” he’d say, his voice softer, that rare smile reserved just for you.

You’d settle in for the night, curled up on the couch, your legs tangled together, his arms around you, holding you close. Sometimes you’d talk for hours, sharing stories, inside jokes that made no sense to anyone else but always made him laugh, that deep, genuine laugh that seemed to shake away every shadow he’d carried with him.

In the kitchen, he’d steal kisses over the stove as you cooked together, hands brushing as you reached for spices, your bodies leaning into each other in that rhythm you’d both grown to know so well. You’d nudge him with your hip as he tried to take over, insisting he was better at chopping vegetables. 

“Let me handle this,” you’d say, swatting his hand away, only for him to pull you into a kiss, completely derailing your focus. 

“Or maybe,” he’d murmur against your lips, “we could just order takeout and go back to the couch.” 

“Terrible influence,” you’d reply, but you’d never actually order takeout; you enjoyed doing tasks together way too much, even if it meant sometimes letting him cut the vegetables, letting him win - after all, it was in his nature.

Lawyers always do everything to win, skillfully bending the law to meet their needs - and Aaron, he'd willingly bend you over the counter. You weren't quite sure whether to be flattered by that, considering it meant you were his personal law.

Hours passed like that in a blur, lost in each other’s presence, the outside world never seemed to matter, it was just the two of you, existing in your own little bubble.

But that wasn’t something you allowed the team to see. It was an unspoken rule between you and Aaron - quiet and composed in public, free and true to yourselves in private.

And it had worked.

Or at least, you thought it had, until one day, the team decided they’d had enough - if you two weren’t going to let them see the real deal, they’d just have to… intervene.

It started innocently enough, with Garcia orchestrating what she dubbed a "team-building" exercise focused on open communication. The twinkle in her eye was your first hint that mischief was afoot.

Morgan delivered the coup de grâce with a wide, victorious grin, making a seemingly casual announcement that sent ripples of mischief across the cabin. "Oh no, looks like the lovebirds have to sit next to each other for the entire trip! Sorry, guys. Plane’s tight this time.”

Hotch, clearly not about to let the team’s evil plan play out in full while you all had to start briefing about the latest case, immediately shut down the smiles with a sharp, stern remark. “What, you think we’re going to cuddle on the way to a triple homicide?”

Honestly, every time he could command an entire room with that dry humor of his, you wanted to jump his bones.

You couldn’t help it, it got you every time. Your man was pure authority wrapped in a smart suit and perfectly timed jokes.

Despite what everyone might assume, Aaron was actually the kinder one in the relationship. While he had the sharp, lawyerly precision to cut things off before they became problems, always quick to resolve matters - you, on the other hand, were far worse.

You didn’t rush to fix things or settle for easy solutions.

No, your method was more intricate, more drawn out sometimes it required humiliation before you got to the point. You were a master of patience, allowing people to dig themselves into a hole first, letting them build their own assumptions, and only then would you pounce, proving them wrong in the most delightful way possible.

Being a philosopher at heart, you liked to draw things out, just to let people stew a little bit in their own misguided assumptions.

In these instances, your strategy was pure, calculated evil - a slow burn of sweet, sweet revenge that only you could orchestrate.

Morgan's comment, far from a mere joke, sparked something much more dangerous within you - the thrilling anticipation of proving to them that they really didn't want to know what you and Aaron were truly like behind your professional facades.

“If we're traveling real tight this time, I guess I’ll just have to sit on your lap, Aaron,” you quipped, batting your eyes innocently at him.

Hotch blinked, his usual composed demeanor faltering for a split second, clearly caught off guard by your bold move. You could already see the faintest flush creeping across his cheeks, a rare crack in his otherwise impenetrable exterior.

But then, a slow, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips, the realization dawning on him that this was just the beginning of one of your devious plans.

He was, after all, your favorite partner in mischief. With a teasing glint in his eye, he patted his lap, a mock invitation and you wasted no time, making yourself comfortable on top of him.

The game was on.

“So,” you began, snuggling into him with exaggerated sweetness, “Hotch, you ever think about triple homicides?”

If you ever called him that in private, he’d probably have walked out on the spot, but here, in the middle of the case, using his work name felt like the only boundary left between you and the truth. It was the one little shield that kept the line between professionalism and the chaos of your relationship.

“All the time, Teach” Hotch murmured back, his voice low and humorously serious while his hand carelessly rested on your thigh, in its natural position.

Garcia, who ‘coincidentally’ happened to be traveling with you that day, shifted excitedly in her seat, mouthing "OTP" as she gave you both an enthusiastic thumbs-up, her delight in your theatrics clear as day.

Meanwhile, Reid looked on with wide eyes, his academic mind probably filing this under 'unexpected field observations’. "I... I think I should call my mom more often," he muttered, seemingly to himself but loud enough for others to hear. "I don’t think I show enough... affection."

Hotch’s fingers inched higher up your inner thigh at the mention of ‘affection,’ tracing patterns that almost made you question whether or not to intertwine your fingers with his to make him stop. You leaned in to whisper something cheeky into his ear, only for him to capture your lips with a swift kiss.

Now this, was unexpected.

His bold move even caught Rossi’s attention, who had been trying - and failing - to bury himself in paperwork, clearly uninterested in the team's antics. But Rossi had endured the deliciously excruciating tension between you and Hotch for far longer than anyone else. After all, there was a reason he still had that picture of you at his book release party in '99 hanging on his office wall - right in plain sight, as if to remind everyone who had been in on this secret for years, even before you two.

So you played it up even more, leaning in with a dramatic flair. "I love you," you declared, your voice slow and deliberate, gazing deeply into Hotch’s eyes. Every syllable was crisp and clear, you could practically hear the gears grinding in the team’s heads as they went into full overdrive, still scrambling to process what was happening.

"I love you more," Hotch replied, the soft chuckle accompanying his words causing a collective groan from around the cabin - yes, you two were cheesy, you and Hotch were far from the type to indulge in the most clichéd of romantic exchanges… probably because he already knew if you two ever started it, considering your competitiveness, it would have probably escalated into something so ungodly he didn’t even want to know.

"No, I love you more," you shot back, the stakes of your playful banter rising – you almost wanted to puke.

"Impossible," Hotch retorted, his lips curling slightly in that way that made your heart skip a beat. "Because I loved you first." you blinked in surprise, eyes widening just a little.

Now, that was new information.

But before you could fire back with another over-the-top retort, something in his gaze shifted, and in an instant, you found yourself pulled into a kiss, this one deeper, more intense, and completely unexpected.

The kiss was slow at first, drawing out the moment as his lips moved against yours with a deliberate slowness that made your pulse quicken, no room left for hesitation.

His hand slid to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, his grip tightened just enough to hold you in place, but it was gentle, as if savoring every second. His other hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer, until you could feel both of your shirts crumpling against each other.

The kiss deepened, his tongue slipping into your mouth with urgent intensity, exploring and tasting, oblivious to the hum of the jet engine masking the sounds of your teammates' shocked reactions… and the click of Garcia’s phone camera.

His movements were fluid and confident, each touch perfectly synchronized with the growing heat between you. You met him with equal fervor, your lips and hands moving in sync, the kiss becoming more insistent, more desperate – it was this raw, unreserved passion that finally pushed Rossi to his breaking point.

“Alright we got it! You were right! Stop it, stop whatever this is. We won’t tease you about the PDA anymore, I swear," Rossi exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in dramatic surrender.

Thank you.

You and Hotch broke apart, the kiss lingering in the air as you wiped a smear of lipstick from his lips with a quick swipe of your thumb. Without missing a beat, you slid back into the seat next to him, immediately adopting your professional mask.

The sweet talk, the casual touches - all of it disappeared, as it should, leaving behind only the steely, composed agents the team was more accustomed to.

“Good,” you said coolly, taking the pen from your jacket pocket and clicking it with an exaggerated focus as you pretended to examine the case files.

It was as if the entire heated exchange had never occurred. Your calm demeanor was flawless, but inside, you couldn’t suppress the gleam of triumph in your eyes.

Oh, how you loved being right…

…Rossi, on the other hand, was still recovering from the emotional whiplash.

He shook his head with a rueful smile, a flicker of regret in his eyes. “If I ever see you two so much as glance at each other that way again, I’m quitting, for real” he muttered, his voice laced with mock seriousness.

Garcia, however, shot up in her seat, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “No, no! Ignore him! You guys, please, be as mushy as you want. It’s a safe space here! I want this. We all want this,” she insisted, her eyes wide with fervor as she shot Rossi a defiant look. “Come on, meet me in the middle, Dave! I’ll buy you bleach! A privacy curtain! I’ll even throw in a soundproof booth! Just let them be adorable in peace!”

Rossi, who had clearly reached his limit, held up a hand, shaking his head in resignation. “I’d rather have earplugs and a set of blinders.” His voice was full of mock defeat, though it was clear he couldn’t stop the faint smile tugging at his lips.

"Really, Dave? Blinders?" Morgan chuckled from the back, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “You’re not going to let them have a little fun? Come on, man. This is way better than watching you flirt with the coffee machine in the break room.”

At that, you and Hotch immediately turned your heads toward each other, exchanging a look that only the two of you could understand.

Oh, if only they knew the real story. If only they knew how much Rossi had a thing for that coffee machine...

��� especially the one in the Section Chief’s office.

You and Hotch had both noticed it long ago.

It was impossible to miss, really.

Rossi’s eyes would soften whenever he found himself near that ‘coffee machine’, as if it held some magnetic pull. Or the way he would suddenly volunteer to deliver reports to the coffee machine’s office, even when it was Hotch’s responsibility.

It was so painfully obvious to you two - Rossi was absolutely smitten with that ‘coffee machine’.

But, of course, you weren’t going to spill that little nugget of gossip just yet. Not today, anyway.

Although Hotch’s dry humor kicked in, and he glanced over at Rossi. “It’s all in the Italian blend,” he said flatly, his voice as deadpan as ever. You squeezed Hotch’s hand tightly to suppress the burst of laughter that threatened to slip out – damn, how you hated how much he managed to let you crumble like that all the time.

Oh, how much you loved him.

Thankfully Reid came in to save the day “I’ll buy the earplugs, Dave,” he said in all seriousness, looking at Rossi like he was ready to place an order for industrial-sized ear protection. “And maybe a seat in the very back of the plane. For everyone's sanity.”

“Thanks, kid,” Rossi muttered with a sigh. “This is the last time I’m taking a flight with you two lovebirds.”

You exchanged a playful glance with Hotch, both of you struggling to keep straight faces. The rest of the team seemed caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement, clearly trying to hold it together, but clearly failing.

"You know, we really should've started this sooner," you mused aloud, crossing your arms and leaning back in your seat. "It’s such a great way to keep everyone in line."

Hotch's lips curled into a slight smirk, though his eyes stayed locked on the case files in front of him. "Next time, I'll save the theatrics for after the case. If we make it that far."

“Good call, as always, Unit Chief,” you replied, your voice playful, but just serious enough to leave them wondering if you were still messing with them or if something had changed.

And that’s when it happened - the first domino fell.

Hotch’s hand, now shifted from the table to rest on your knee.

The weight of his touch was different this time - it wasn’t calculated, nor was it part of the show you’d put on to mess with everyone - it was simply him, expressing something real.

For a moment, you froze, the air around you feeling suddenly charged with something more intimate than you’d allowed to settle between you at work. But as you looked at him, you saw that he wasn’t expecting you to respond theatrically, either.

His gaze was steady, his hand resting casually, without any of the usual distance he’d maintained before.

The shift was subtle, but it was there.

You let out a soft breath, your muscles relaxing for the first time all day as you allowed yourself to lean slightly into the touch. “Thanks,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but Hotch caught the meaning behind it. He squeezed your knee just slightly, a wordless acknowledgment that you were both on the same page.

Maybe it was time to stop being so stiff…

---

Stage two: Second, it is violently opposed.

…and so you did.

Over time, you allowed yourselves some liberties here and there — small gestures, quiet moments shared in the midst of the chaos of the job - only when no one was watching, of course.

You still made sure that the workplace environment remained as professional as possible, the last thing you wanted was for anyone to feel uncomfortable or for your relationship to ever be questioned.

But if there was one thing Aaron was particularly good at, it was finding loopholes.

He would argue, “It’s not a breach of the rule if the statement isn’t clear on that at all." And when the rules weren’t clear, he was quick to take advantage of it, slipping into those grey areas that never seemed to get any real clarification.

Lawyers.

The rule had applied to the workplace, yes, but it never specifically mentioned physical spaces - like the FBI parking lot, or the elevator. So more often than not, you and Aaron found yourselves “stretching” the limits there, enjoying those quiet moments away from the eyes of the team.

The elevator rides were your favorite…

There, it was just you two, no cameras, no one listening, and nothing to hold you back. Sometimes it was just a kiss, other times... well, you both liked to test just how far you could go before someone walked in.

But, as always, timing had a funny way of messing everything up. It seemed like every time you’d start kissing or your hands would wander just a little too much, someone would always show up.

And somehow, it was always Rossi.

No one else.

Just him.

It never failed.

He’d clear his throat loudly, or tease you both with that exasperated tone of his, as if he was constantly trying to escape what he couldn’t avoid. It was like he had some sort of sixth sense for catching you two in those exact moments, and no one else seemed to be quite as lucky - or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it.

At this point, Rossi had had enough of the cosmic joke that always seemed to land him in the middle of your most inconvenient, and often highly personal, moments.

His will was already written, and it came with a very clear clause: Only one of them is allowed at his funeral or grave at a time. Lovebirds policy only. He had his reasons, of course, he didn’t need to explain why he didn’t want to see that particular dynamic at his final resting place.

So, in his infinite wisdom - and desperation - Rossi scheduled a mandatory HR seminar.

“Dave, I don’t have to attend the seminar, I’m Unit Chief” Hotch told him one afternoon, looking as though he might be able to talk his way out of it.

“Oh no, you do,” Rossi shot back, practically pointing at Hotch like he was an unruly student. “You’re the very reason I called them in. You and your... antics.” He threw his hands up dramatically. "This has to stop."

You exchanged a look with Hotch, trying not to laugh at how utterly serious Rossi was about this whole thing. But as usual, Hotch wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. “We’re managing it well, Dave. We never cross professional boundaries when you’re around.”

Not exactly, it should have been ‘we never cross professional boundaries when we know you’re around’.

But he continued talking anyways, intense and relentless as usual “In fact, we don’t even sit next to each other on the jet anymore, especially after hearing someone mention how she falls asleep on my shoulder after cases and thought it was 'cute,' apparently,” he said, glancing at you with a playful look.

Rossi’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, don’t start with that," he grumbled. "I know you two are playing some kind of game with me. And don’t act like you’re the picture of professionalism, Aaron, just because you sit on opposite ends of the jet."

Hotch then took a deep breath, rolling into lawyer mode. His voice dropped lower, each word becoming more deliberate – it was time to pull out the big lexicon. “Furthermore, Dave, I find it rather hypocritical for you to bring up a matter like this, considering you’re the very reason these fraternization rules were implemented in the first place. For the record, we’ve been transparent. Strauss was informed as soon as we started dating. There’s no issue here.”

Rossi blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Hotch’s tone. He frowned, a bit of surprise flashing across his face. “Did she teach you the word ‘hypocritical’?” he quipped, looking at Hotch with a knowing smirk.

Hotch, taken slightly off guard by Rossi’s jab, blushed a little - his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. He wasn’t usually one for showing any signs of fluster, especially in front of his team.

The HR seminar had barely begun, but you were already feeling your patience thin.

Everyone had been summoned to the bullpen, begrudgingly forced to sit through a mandatory lecture on fraternization and professional conduct.

Rossi, in all his glory, had managed to schedule the whole thing thinking that a lecture about fraternization and workplace boundaries would somehow curb the “antics” he thought were getting out of hand.

But what he definitely didn’t anticipate was the sheer chaos that would follow.

The HR representative - Carmen, an overly cheerful woman in her late forties with a name tag that read "Carmen" - stood at the front, facing the group with a bright, forced smile that didn’t quite match the tension hanging in the room. She seemed oblivious to the undercurrent of discomfort flowing through the team.

“Today, we’re going to talk about how to maintain professionalism in the workplace,” she began, clicking through slides on the projector. “Specifically, we’ll be discussing fraternization, boundaries, and how to handle uncomfortable situations when they arise.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Hotch.

This was going to be painful.

Carmen continued, oblivious to the growing tension, moving to the next slide. “So, let’s start with a simple question. What should you do if you ever feel harassed or like professional boundaries are being crossed?”

“Do you ever feel like there’s a couple who barely show any emotion beyond stoicism but make it a point to talk about…”

You blinked.

Stoicism?

Did she even understand what that word meant? It wasn’t just about hiding emotions or being composed. It was a whole philosophy, a way of understanding life and how to deal with adversity. And yet here she was, using it as some sort of generic descriptor for a couple that was, apparently, too controlled, while also being embarrassingly not controlled enough in their personal moments.

You could almost hear her thoughts: “Stoicism” sounds intellectual, let’s use that to make things sound deep and professional. But she was so off the mark, you almost couldn’t bear it.

Carmen paused, her finger hovering over the remote.

She clicked the button again with the kind of confidence that suggested she had absolutely no idea what the word stoicism even meant. In fact, as you sat there, trying to distract yourself from the growing tension in the room, you found yourself profiling Carmen.

You were pretty sure she had just Googled the term moments before this presentation, probably during the coffee break, her face lighting up when she stumbled across something that sounded smart enough to say in front of the group.

The way she adjusted her glasses after every click, the small, almost nervous laugh she gave when she spoke a little too loudly, and how she constantly tugged at her sleeves like she was just a little too eager to prove she was in charge - she was someone who tried hard to project authority but clearly lacked a deeper understanding of the material she was presenting.

Her behavior hinted at a kind of surface-level preparedness, just enough to get through the presentation without anyone questioning her qualifications. She was the kind of person who relied on buzzwords to sound impressive…

The entire room went dead silent, but Carmen, continued without skipping a beat. "Next, we’ll look at how professional boundaries really can be blurred in the workplace..."

“Stop shaving, your beard makes me want to schedule sick leave for the both of us.”

That hit you quite hard. Damn… you still remembered how you didn’t let Aaron get out of the bed for two whole days when he grew one of those himself.

Your weakness... how the way it highlighted the lineaments of his face, casting shadows like something painted by Caravaggio himself, was irresistible.

Not to mention the heavenly way it felt against your skin… oh you were so feral… you had never had so much sex in your life like you did in those two days…

Your mind wandered back to those moments, the soft temptation to bribe him into growing it back.

“Your lectures make me want to…”

Lectures? Very oddly specific.

“My son wants a sibling.”

You blinked, trying to wrap your mind around it, but then the realization hit you. Fun, the agents in that room who had a child could be counted on your fingers, so the words felt oddly out of place. But still, you couldn’t quite grasp why they felt so familiar.

And just like that, it hit you - 32 languages, three PhDs, and years of teaching... all now reduced to the deductive powers of a ladybug.

You hadn’t realized it until now - probably because you were still thirsting over the memories of your hot man with his hot beard - but those weren’t just any words.

Those were your words.

Your conversations.

The moments you and Hotch thought were just whispered between the two of you, moments you thought no one heard. And there they were, broadcast on the screen for the entire team to see.

A chill ran down your spine as the final line appeared.

“Stop quoting Hagel or we might have to leave to take something we left back in...”

The moment those words appeared on the screen, you felt something snap inside you. The misspelling of Hegel - with an A instead of an E - was a personal betrayal.

Your mind immediately spiraled, fixating on the glaring error. How could they get something so fundamental so wrong?

To have something so simple and fundamental, so easily identifiable, mangled like this felt like an insult. Your whole body stiffened in protest, and your jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

You could feel the weight of your teammates’ stares burning into you, but it barely registered.

It wasn’t much their reaction to the personal details of your relationship with Hotch that had you worked up - it was the glaring inaccuracy before you.

The universe had somehow decided that this moment wasn’t going to be about the privacy that had been stripped away from you, but about this mistake - a simple, careless error that was now at the center of your fury.

You couldn’t think about how embarrassing it was to be outed like this. Your brain couldn’t process any of it, it shielded itself consuming by the fact that someone had managed to butcher the name of one of the greatest philosophers of all time.

Prentiss leaned forward slightly, her brows raised in surprise, but her reaction was drowned out by your growing irritation. JJ, trying to keep it together, looked over with wide eyes, an unmistakable flicker of realization dawning on her face. Reid’s expression was a mixture of curiosity and confusion, as if he were trying to piece the scene together in his usual analytical way.

Then there was Morgan, letting out a low whistle, clearly amused by the sudden turn of events. But it was Garcia, sweet, innocent Garcia, who was practically glowing with excitement, a huge grin spreading across her face as though she had just won some grand prize. Her eyes sparkled with giddiness, clearly delighted by the personal details she’d just uncovered.

The entire team had turned toward you now, their attention fully on you and Hotch, clearly not expecting the turn of events.

And it was embarrassing.

But still, despite everything - the exposure, the teasing, the whispers of your relationship that had never meant to be public - it was the misspelling of Hegel that was making your blood boil.

Every fiber of your being screamed to correct it, to stand up and storm to the front and take the projector down, fix it, fix everything.

But before you could even move, Hotch must have felt the shift in your energy. His hand, almost instinctively, moved to rest on your knee. His thumb rubbed gently in small circles, a calming touch, grounding you.

“Y/N, stop,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent, sending a shiver down your spine.

You could feel his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in closer, the subtle press of his body against yours grounding you, even if everything else felt like it was spiraling out of control. “Stop before you point out they misspelled Hegel and make a lecture out of it, or we might have to leave to take something we left back in the car.”

It was a mix of teasing and flirtation, the very phrase the HR rep had just banned from its existence. And damn it, it was working. The fire in his eyes pulled you in so completely, you almost forgot where you were, who was watching, or why you were so angry in the first place.

You wanted to stay mad, to stand up and correct the error, but the way he was looking at you made it hard to hold onto anything except the electricity that was building between you. The rest of the world faded into the background.

But of course, Rossi - ever the opportunist - had been listening intently. He leaned in, catching your words before they even left your mouth. “She just finished saying that,” he muttered, a smug look crossing his face as he caught your eye.

You shot him a glare that could have frozen him in his tracks, but it only seemed to fuel his teasing. “Please, Rossi," you said through gritted teeth, your voice low and dangerous. "Next time, forget to plug in your hearing device so you can stop listening to things you don’t want to hear. Or, better yet, don’t make me tell you the very reason you’re hypocritical in the first place."

Rossi’s smile widened, obviously enjoying your frustration. "Hypocritical?" he repeated, his tone dripping with mock curiosity. “Maybe you should teach me more of those big words.” He was goading you, trying to get under your skin.

Hotch, sensing the escalation, placed a hand on your shoulder, his voice smooth and controlled as he stepped in to defuse the situation. "You're welcome to take your concerns about our so-called 'unprofessional conduct' crossing boundaries directly to the Section Chief, Dave," he said, his gaze never leaving the screen as he remained calm. "But mind you, you have no proof."

Still, you couldn’t help it.

The frustration and tension of the whole situation - everything that had been building up - finally boiled over, and you couldn't hold it in anymore. "And on that subject, Rossi," you began, your voice firm, steady, and dripping with challenge, "don’t you regularly cross those unprofessional boundaries yourself?"

The room went dead silent.

You could feel Hotch’s eyes on you, and when you glanced at him, you saw the exact same understanding in his gaze. You both knew exactly what was about to happen. The words had already left your lips, and now Rossi was about to learn just how much the two of you had been paying attention to his “subtle” behavior.

Hotch, the perfect picture of calm, added with the slightest tilt of his head and a mischievous glint in his eye, “We noticed that you and…”

Rossi, visibly caught off guard, stumbled over his words, “Why did I even open my mouth? I knew this was gonna make everything worse… porca puttana,” he grumbled, rubbing his face in frustration.

Carmen, completely oblivious to the escalating tension, continued with the presentation as if nothing was happening.

But you weren’t going to let it go that easily.

You leaned back in your seat, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Rossi with a smug grin playing at the corners of your lips. “You know, Dave,” you said, your voice light but dripping with satisfaction, “this lecture has been very informative. But maybe next time, you should make sure to include a few slides on how to keep your own relationships under wraps. Might help you avoid the hypocrisy.”

Rossi’s face flushed as he shot you a glare, but you could tell that, for once, he was caught completely off guard. “Oh yeah? Well, why don’t you join me and Erin for dinner tonight then? It’d be fun, wouldn’t it?” He threw back, but you could hear the hesitation in his voice as he scrambled to regain control of the situation.

You leaned over to Hotch, lowering your voice just enough so only he could hear. “Aaron, I swear if I see them even touching hands, I’m going to puke.”

Hotch gave you a deadpan look, trying to suppress a grin. “I feel you, but…” His tone dropped into a mock-dramatic whisper. “What if we crank up the unprofessional behavior right in front of them? Scare them off a little?”

You raised an eyebrow. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Hotch looked like he was seriously considering it. “That could either work like a charm, or - let’s be honest - knowing Rossi, they’ll just double down and serve us a taste of our own medicine. And sure, we love a good challenge, but…” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering even more. “Do we really want to go there?”

You smiled to yourself, already picturing it in your mind. “Oh no, I can already picture it.”

Hotch sighed dramatically, as if considering his options. “We could leave earlier with the excuse we need to work on paperwork...” he trailed off, giving you a look.

You smirked. “‘Paperwork,’” you said, making air quotes with your fingers, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. “Our paperwork?!”

Hotch and you both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

Hotch’s smirk turned a little more serious, and he leaned in slightly. “You know, we could always go all out. Maybe I could place my hand on your shoulder every now and then. Keep them guessing.”

You gave him a look, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, I love you, but I fear that would be too scandalous.”

Hotch’s smirk widened as he leaned back a little, but the glint in his eyes didn’t fade. “Well, then I’ll settle for resting my hand on your knee. Once. For three and a half seconds.”

Your eyes flickered with amusement, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Wow, last time you only allowed yourself three,” you teased, knowing he had a habit of pushing boundaries, but always so carefully… you were an old Victorian couple with people you knew from the job afterall.

“I know, I’m practicing more self-control,” he said, voice thick with sarcasm but still looking at you in a way that made you forget you were attending a seminar about this specific behaviour.

You leaned a little closer, watching him intently, enjoying the banter more than you cared to admit. “You’re so hot when you’re so unprofessional," you whispered, the words dripping with playful intent. "Almost makes me want to kiss you on the cheek.”

Hotch’s expression never wavered, but the amusement in his eyes was undeniable. "So unprofessional..." he murmured under his breath, his voice tinged with humor but also something deeper, something more familiar with the man you knew in the safe walls of your house.

You didn’t need to be obvious to make things very clear. It was all in the subtlety, the small gestures, the private moments that only you and Hotch understood.

And as you both settled back into your seats, you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. It was going to be a long seminar, but at least it was going to be entertaining.

---

Stage three: Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.

After an evening of forced pleasantries with Rossi and Strauss, the two of you were finally free.

Walking into Aaron’s apartment, you let out a long sigh of relief, kicking off your shoes and feeling the weight of the night slip off your shoulders. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Aaron turned to you with that familiar smirk - the one you’d missed to helplessly melt into all day long.

As if there had been no build-up, no tension at all, you found yourself pressed up against the door, his lips crashing against yours the second you crossed the threshold. The kiss was hungry, urgent, like both of you had been holding your breath all evening and could finally release it now that you were alone.

His hands moved instinctively to your waist, pulling you closer as your bodies melted into each other, until there was no room left between you two.

When you pulled away, breathless but grinning, you teased, “You know, after all that drama with Rossi and Strauss, I’m exhausted. Think I could spend the night here?”

“Well, I do have a guest room…”  Aaron raised an eyebrow, letting the words hang in the air, as if he was seriously considering it.

You narrowed your eyes, taking a small step back but keeping the playful smirk on your face. “Guest room? That’s so nice of you, love” you said, folding your arms. “But I was thinking maybe I could sleep in your bed you know, just for the night. It’s so cold here. I mean, really cold. We wouldn’t want me freezing to death, would we?”

Aaron's lips curled into a mischievous grin as he stepped closer, his gaze playful. “I’ll tell you a secret,” he said casually, his voice smooth. “It was all part of my plan,” he added with a glint in his eye. “That’s why I’ve kept all the windows open.”

He paused dramatically, his hands slipping around yourhips, pulling you closer. “Wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable, would I? Now, you’re basically obliged for cuddles.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head at him, already feeling the heat between you two. “Oh, you’re so devious,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him again, this time slower, with just enough space between your lips to let his tongue slide in.

“You know you don’t have to plan so much for us to sleep together. I thought that was a given by now, cuddles included... maybe even something more. Who knows?” You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, the playful challenge lingering in the air.

Aaron chuckled against your lips, deepening the kiss with just as much passion, his hands sliding up to your shoulders, gently but firmly pushing you back against the wall.

For a moment, you both paused, breathless, eyes locked in shared understanding before you leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “So, how exactly do you manage to get to the office first every morning?” you asked, your smirk widening as the question hung in the air, taunting him.

Aaron’s smile deepened, a mixture of wry humor and something much more tempting in his gaze. He leaned in, lips brushing against your ear, his voice low and playful. “I love you,” he said softly, almost tenderly, before pulling back to meet your eyes. “But not a chance.”

You gasped in mock outrage, your hands finding his chest as you pushed yourself off the wall, trying to distance yourself a little. “Come on, no fair. You’ve been so open tonight with all your little secrets,” you teased, making air quotes. “Now you won’t share this one?”

Before you could move away, Aaron caught you effortlessly, pulling you back into his embrace. His strong arms wrapped around you, sending your heart racing. His lips grazed your ear again, his voice hushed and playful as he whispered, “I’ll tell you in 83 days,” his tone dripping with mock seriousness.

You froze, eyes widening in surprise.

The playful smile slipped from your face, and the warmth from his embrace spread through you, despite the coldness of the apartment.

You blinked, the realization hitting you all at once.

The bet you two had made years ago - the one where if he beat you to the office for 1,000 days, he’d have to propose - flashed through your mind. And now, he was casually dropping 83 days like it was just another countdown.

“Come on, don’t pretend you’re shocked,” Aaron said, his voice softening with affection. He leaned in closer, brushing his lips lightly against yours. “You knew this was coming, if you keep failing… this is your last chance to beat me.”

His lips captured yours in another soft kiss, and you could feel the unspoken weight behind his words. “Unless you really want to spend the rest of your life with me.”

Your breath caught, and the sudden heat flooded your cheeks, turning them a deep shade of red. You couldn’t help but melt into him, the gravity of his words settling in, even as you clung to the teasing spark that still flickered between you.

“You still have to find out my answer,” you teased, raising an eyebrow, your voice light but full of challenge. “You know, just to keep you on your toes. It’s not all settled yet… and who knows, maybe you won’t even ever know it. I’ve still got 83 days to beat you.”

Aaron shot you a pointed look, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer. “I wouldn’t be so confident, considering your terrible track record,” he said, his voice rich with teasing. Without giving you a chance to respond, he kissed you again - harder this time - his lips claiming yours with a passionate force that spoke of promises yet to be fulfilled.

You melted into the kiss, every nerve in your body aware of just how close you were, how real everything felt. When the kiss finally broke, your hand remained lightly against his chest, still feeling the thrum of his heartbeat. “Haven’t you learned yet that you should never underestimate me, Hotchner?”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your ears as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. “This is the only thing I allow myself to underestimate you on,” he teased, pulling back with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You’re terrible at it. Even worse than your shooting skills.”

You raised an eyebrow, still smirking, a playful spark lighting up your eyes. “Oh, now you’re exaggerating,” you said, poking his chest lightly with your finger.

“It’s not like if I can’t beat you at something, I’m mathematically bad at it. And also, really? You expect me to outdo a sniper?” You tilted your head, teasing him about his former SWAT team background.

“Absolutely,” Aaron replied, his grin widening. “You still have to keep up with me on long-distance shots, and don’t even think about blaming it on your blurry vision.”

He gave you a pointed look, then leaned in slightly, his voice low and playful. “I still love you, of course, even if you might need a little more training from the ‘sniper’.” He winked at you, that familiar, mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

You laughed softly, shaking your head, but the idea seemed to settle in your mind. “You know,” you said casually, leaning against the counter with a thoughtful look on your face, “I just realized something. If I married you, we’d have two Agent Hotchners on the team.”

Aaron’s eyes twinkled with amusement, but there was a hint of something deeper in his gaze. He leaned down slightly, getting closer as if he were about to tell you a secret. “Oh, so you’re considering it?” he teased, the playful tone only slightly covering the vulnerability that was starting to show through.

You leaned in a little closer, your voice soft and teasing as you whispered, “Well, we’ve still got 83 days to figure it out, don’t we?” You let the words hang in the air for a moment before adding, with a sly grin, “Unless, of course, you want to start planning now.”

Aaron’s smirk softened, a chuckle escaping him as his arms tightened around you just a little more, pulling you in closer. “Oh no,” he said, his voice low, full of mischief. “I still need to do everything in my power to make sure you’re the one to lose the most important bet of your life.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your gaze. “Getting a little cocky, aren’t we?” you teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Just because you think you’ve got me cornered in this bet doesn’t mean you’ve won yet.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering as he leaned in a little closer. “Maybe I just wanted to make sure I’m doing things right,” he said, voice low and teasing. “For example… I wanted to check if sapphire was still your favorite stone,” he added, his grin widening. “You know, just in case I need to upgrade the plan.”

The question caught you off guard. You blinked at him, your heart skipping a beat as the realization hit you. “What?” you stammered, feeling a blush creep up your neck. “Shut up, Aaron,” you said, your voice a little shaky as you tried to recover from the surprise. “You’re ridiculous.” You tried to pull away, but his arms were still around you, pulling you closer, his grin widening at your reaction.

Aaron laughed softly, his thumb brushing your cheek, the teasing light in his eyes evident. “I swear, you’re so easy to fluster,” he teased, his voice low but affectionate. “You’re blushing, and I haven’t even asked you yet.”

You couldn’t stop the blush from deepening, your face now a full shade of red. You crossed your arms over your chest, looking away in embarrassment, but it was too late, he’d already noticed. “You’re going to be the death of me,” you muttered, feeling the heat in your cheeks spread.

Aaron reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up so you were forced to meet his gaze. His voice dropped to a quiet, serious tone, though the warmth still lingered. “Til death do us part, right?” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Don’t make me cry,” you whispered, the teasing edge to your voice slipping away. The laughter, the playful teasing, they all seemed distant now.

Aaron’s gaze softened, his thumb gently caressing your jawline as he studied you, he didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence stretch between you. His hand lingered on your chin for a moment longer before he slowly, carefully, let it fall to your waist, his touch grounding you.

His voice, when he spoke, was quieter, more intimate. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said softly. “But if I do, I hope it’s because I’ve made you happy, not because I’ve made you doubt what we have.”

You swallowed, the words tugging at something deep inside you. It was the way he spoke to you, like he meant every syllable, that made your heart swell, and for a brief moment, you almost wished you could freeze time and just stay in that moment, locked in his arms, no words left to be said.

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling a little, despite the overwhelming feeling in your chest. “Well, you’ve already got me feeling all kinds of things,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood again, even as your voice wavered just slightly. “But I think you’re safe for now.”

Aaron chuckled softly, his hand gently brushing down your arm, a reassuring gesture that made you feel grounded. “I don’t want to just be safe, though,” he murmured, his eyes dark with something a little more serious. “I want to be the one who makes you feel like you’ve found home, even when the world is too much.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest, causing your heart to flutter in a way you couldn’t quite put into words, no matter how many languages you spoke.

There was something about Aaron - his warmth, his steady presence, his certainty - that made it so easy to get lost in him. You didn’t know what the future held, but with him by your side, the world seemed less daunting, less frightening.

“Then maybe you’ve already won,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. The walls you’d so carefully built around your vulnerability came crashing down, and for the first time, you let yourself feel the full force of it. “Maybe you’ve already made me feel at home, windows open or not.”

Aaron’s lips brushed gently against your forehead in a soft kiss, his arms tightening around you in a way that made you feel completely safe. “Then I’ll keep doing it,” he murmured against your skin, his words a promise, a vow, and a reassurance all in one. “Every single day.”

"In love, one and one are one." Jean-Paul Sartre

---

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

[schlattslambo]

hot for teacher | schlatt 18+

A/n: this has truly been burning my brain. reader is female presenting. I will work on some more gender neutral stuff in the future I promise!! Please enjoy<3

C/w: spanking, name calling (slut), power dynamic (teacher x student), spitting, use of daddy towards the end

——————————

Why you decided to go back to college to get another degree, you have no idea. All you know is that this class is boring as hell and you aren’t sure why it’s even needed for your degree. The only upside was the fact that it was your first class of the day so you could get it over with. Plus the professor was kind of hot too.

It’s a warm day today, way warmer than it should be for this time of year, so you decide to show a little skin to your writing class. Your skirt is just long enough to cover your ass, and your shirt is low cut and cropped. Honestly, it’s like you’re not even wearing a shirt at all.

You walk into the classroom, plopping down in the back like you usually do.

“Ms (y/n),” Your professor says from the front of the room. “Come and see me please.”

You roll your eyes. Mr Schlatt might be hot, but he was strict. He didn’t allow gum chewing, eating or drinking - except water, of course- and locked his classroom 5 minutes after it was meant to start so nobody who was late could get in. He constantly got under your skin about your writing and your formatting, and was seeming to start early with his criticisms of you today.

“Yes, Mr Schlatt?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“Did you leave the rest of your clothes at home?” Mr Schlatt asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No, stupid, this is it.” You scoff.

Mr Schlatt could take a lot, but seeing you like that, acting all defiant and shit pissed him off. He wanted to knock you down a peg or two. His jaw works as he glares at you.

“What do you want?” You ask.

“I wanted to see you because your last essay was all over the place.” Mr Schlatt says. “It had a good foundation, but it could use some work.”

“Did I fail the assignment, or what?” You snap. “I worked hard on that essay!”

“You would receive a 50, which is failing,” Mr Schlatt pauses. “This essay is a large part of your grade, and your grade is already low enough as it is.”

“What??” You yelp. “How could I fail?! This is ridiculous!”

“I want you to redo the essay.” Mr Schlatt adds, reaching into his desk and pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to you. “This is an essay template. I’d like for you to come in during any free time that you have and work on it with me.”

You glare at him. “I’m not redoing that fucking essay.” You growl.

Mr Schlatt’s eyes darken in a way that you’ve never seen before. He takes off his glasses and places them down gently before his eyes go back to you. Your eyes widen slightly at how scary he looks.

“First off, you do not speak to me like that.” Mr Schlatt says. “Second, you will be redoing this essay. It is not a full rewrite, it is just a large edit. If you do not do this, you will receive a zero for it. And that zero would make you fail the class and you will not graduate. Am I clear?”

Your eyes widen. Surely he’s joking. This is college for fucks sake! He can’t have this power over you. Especially over some essay.

“You can’t do that!” You yell.

“I can and I will,” Mr Schlatt says. “Now, from what I’ve learned over the course of the semester is that you typically have some free time around 1pm. I’d like you to come back here at 1 so we can go over this work.”

With that, Mr Schlatt dismisses you. You stomp over to your seat and plop down, taking out your phone. You barely work in the class out of defiance, but catch Mr Schlatt glancing at you. You glare at him and he just shakes his head, leaning over to help another student.

Two classes later, you figure it’s best to just go back to Mr Schlatt’s classroom. You need to graduate. You hate college and want to get out as fast as possible. You barge into the room, making Mr Schlatt look up at you. He heaves a sigh.

You have to be Mr Schlatt’s least favorite student, but he cannot stop thinking about how you need to be put in your place. You are a student, and he is a professor. He deserves respect, and you’re going to give him that respect one way or another.

“Glad to see that you came back,” Mr Schlatt says.

It’s the end of his day and his tie is loosened, his sleeves are rolled up, and his hair is messy. You sit in the seat across from his desk and look at him while he finishes scribbling something down. Turning the paper over, he looks at you.

“Let’s get this over with.” You sigh.

The first few minutes of the edit are simple enough. You sigh and try and add in the notes that Mr Schlatt left for you.

“This is stupid,” You grumble. “Why can’t you just pass me?”

“I want you out of my class just as much as you want to get out of it,” Mr Schlatt says. “But I can’t just pass you because you want to leave. You have to earn that right.”

You sit quietly for a moment, then a smirk breaks out on your face.

“Is there any other way that you could pass me?” You ask, twirling some hair around your finger.

Mr Schlatt’s eyes narrow. “No,” He grits. “Now finish writing.”

Thankfully for him, you don’t notice Mr Schlatt’s pants becoming tighter at the crotch. You’re pushing his limits and if you don’t stop soon, you’re going to be pushed into his office’s supply closet and taught a lesson.

“You’re too hot to be this rude,” You grumble.

“You’re too old to be this defiant.” Mr Schlatt snaps back. “You have two seconds to continue this last paragraph or I’m kicking you out and you can fail the class.”

You look up at him and smirk. “Make me.”

The band holding Mr Schlatt back snaps and he stands up, slamming his palms on the wooden desk.

“Get into my office,” He growls. “Now.”

You jump at the loud noise as your eyes widen. You stare up at Mr Schlatt dumbfounded.

“Did I stutter?” He asks. “Get up and get into my office.”

You stand up so quickly that the chair that you were sitting in nearly falls over. Mr Schlatt leads you into his office and closes the door, locking it. You’re speechless, but the slowly growing puddle in your panties speaks volumes.

With two long strides, Mr Schlatt is inches from your face. He’s so close that you can smell the whiskey that he puts in his coffee to deal with students like you. Your knees nearly give out but you lean against the wall.

“You’ve been pushing me and pushing me (y/n).” Mr Schlatt breathes. “I’m so close to losing control.”

You smile softly. “Then lose control.” You reply.

“You sure about that, dollface?” Mr Schlatt smirks. “I don’t think you’ll be able to handle it.”

“Try me.” You reply.

In a swift motion, you’re grabbed and bent over the wooden desk in Mr Schlatt’s office. He kicks your ankles apart and presses his crotch against your ass, yanking your hair back. You gasp and bite your lip.

“Now, (y/n),” Mr Schlatt breathes. “This is your last chance to back out.”

“No way.” You sigh.

“Stubborn little slut,” Mr Schlatt grumbles, landing a harsh smack on your ass. “Now be fuckin’ quiet. Can’t have anyone hearing what a slut you are.”

Before you can respond, Mr Schlatt’s thick fingers find their way between your legs and to your swollen clit. Your knees finally give out, but thankfully you’re lying on the desk.

“Oh fuck,” you whine.

“You’re already so wet,” Mr Schlatt smirks. “Is this from being a defiant brat?”

You can’t help but nod as he presses against the nub, pleasure shooting through you. You yelp as your shorts and panties are ripped down, exposing your ass.

“I think you need an attitude adjustment, don’t you?” Mr Schlatt leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

You watch as he grabs a ruler off of the desk and you squirm against him.

“No!” You manage. “I don’t need an attitude adjustment!”

Mr Schlatt ignores you and pins your hands behind your back. Your eyes screw shut and you whimper softly. The defiance is gone and your clit throbs as you wait for the ruler to smack your ass.

“Count ‘em for me, slut.” Mr Schlatt says before the ruler comes down on your ass with a harsh slap.

“Fuck!” You yelp. “One.”

Smack.

Smack.

SMACK.

The ruler snaps as tears begin to fall. Mr Schlatt tosses the other piece of the ruler to the side before rubbing a soothing hand on your ass.

“Now, have you learned your lesson?” Mr Schlatt asks, releasing your wrists.

“Mhm.” You sniffle.

“Atta girl.” Mr Schlatt praises. “Now since you took that so well, turn over.”

He helps you turn onto your back and as soon as you’re facing him, he kneels.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Rewarding you, the fuck’s it look like I’m doing?” Mr Schlatt asks, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh.

His facial hair tickles slightly, making goosebumps rise on your skin. The closer his kisses get to your center, the more desperate you get. You’re nearly dripping on the desk now and can barely take anymore. So, you grip Mr Schlatt’s hair and tug, shoving his face into your cunt. He grunts in surprise but then starts licking.

He switches from soft featherlike licks to harsh sucking. You look down at the man between your legs, and he’s flushed, eating you out like it’s his last goddamn meal. He’s slurping up your juices and the way his eyes are closed and his arms are wrapped around your thighs bring you closer.

“F-fuck, Mr Schlatt…” You moan. “You feel so good.”

Mr Schlatt looks up at you and his pupils are blown. His normal chocolate brown eyes are nearly black as he pulls away from your pussy, a string of juices and saliva connecting the two of you.

“Daddy.” He rasps.

“Huh?”

“Call me Daddy.”

You smile down and grip his hair, shoving his face back where you need it most. The action makes his cock twitch in his pants and precum dot at his tip. A harsh suck on your clit makes you arch your back.

“Daddy, fuck!” You mewl. “Keep doing that.”

Mr Schlatt groans against you, reaching up and probing your wet hole with his thick finger. He slides it in effortlessly and is quick to find the spot that makes your vision blur.

Your thighs clench on his head as you feel the tightness in your stomach. The grip that you have on his hair is like iron as you grind your hips. Your orgasm hits you like a truck, your hole squeezing Mr Schlatt’s finger like a vice. He allows you to ride it out, the noises you’re making only driving him closer to his own orgasm.

With one minor leg adjustment, Mr Schlatt’s cock brushes against his zipper just right and he cums. He groans against you, hips thrusting into nothing. He’s sure he looks pathetic, but he doesn’t give a fuck. He’s got his hottest student’s pussy in his mouth right now.

He pulls back once you’re done and stands up. You gasp as he grips your jaw with a smile.

“Open.” He orders.

You allow your jaw to go slack and Mr Schlatt allows a big glob of spit to land in your mouth. You swallow, tasting yourself.

“Good girl.” Mr Schlatt praises, patting your cheek.

“Am I gonna pass?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes.

“We might have to have a few more meetings to go over things, but I think you’ll manage a passing grade.”

You leave Mr Schlatt’s office that afternoon and walk off, your clit still throbbing. You’re sure the next few meetings aren’t going to be nearly as boring as you thought they would be.

[faggotbeloved]

Cold Metal Biting Soft Flesh | Yandere!Curly x Captain!M!Reader

1: Sanitized (~1k words)

Cw: Canon typical violence, my headcannons for post-crash Curly's wounds, no beta we close our eyes, body horror, lots of painkillers

This work does not contain smut but is 18+. Minors and fem-aligned people, please do not interact. AN at the end.

└───────────────────────┘

It had been only a few hours after saving a man from a three decade old craft when you’d determined that he was going to be under your primary care, aside from medical, from now on.

The man, as you’d discovered, was in fact the captain of the Tulpar. Upon inspection of his wounds, which only occurred back at the ship and with him sedated, Rhodes discovered the harrowing truth that he’d been in a state of third degree full-body burns for over four months. Worse still, he had one half-functional eye with the eyelid burnt shut though the other was severely dry, eyelidless, but still in surprisingly good condition.

Immediately, Rhodes ordered someone to get the passenger’s company issued bio-fabricator, a critical technology with the ability to take biological elements and grow genetically similar (but not identical) copies.

Technically, it was reserved for creating more plants or animals in a biosphere lacking most of the required succession elements, but it’d be easy to grow supplemental skin, hair, and blood to perfectly match the burnt man’s body. He also ordered silver sulfadiazine cream to soothe the initial burns, and for the first time since the man was in the accident he seemed to not be in agony.

──────────────────────

You sat beside the man. He still had his tongue and vocal cords, so he could talk (with much effort), but he was fully deaf so you had a captioning machine set up for him to read your words. Once he awoke, you silently showed him your badge with your name, picture, and title, which he read and nodded once he was done.

“Are you able to talk, sir? We need your name,” you said softly, watching as your head doctor, Rhodes, finally replaced the sticky, deteriorating bandages that practically cemented to his raw flesh. Luckily, the man was unable to feel it with how numb his entire body was.

He nodded weakly, eye never straying from you for long, and coughed. He spat up blood and saliva, to which you gently swiped a rag across his chin to remove it. “It’s okay. Take your time. This is Rhodes, he’s your doctor for now, but one of the passengers here is also a cosmetic surgeon and can start skin grafts once you’re ready.”

You sat back to give the man some space and idly wondered if the bio-fabricator could make enough connective tissues, nerves, and muscles to give him back his limbs. Rhodes left after replacing his arms and legs bandages, and soon the man tapped your resting hand with one of his handless arms and you looked back at him.

“C…url…y,” he rasped out. His volume was lacking, but he couldn’t hear himself so it was to be excpected.

“Curly? Is that your name?”

He nodded weakly. You spoke again, “Curly. Okay, and can you answer a couple questions for me? Shake or nod your head, if you can’t talk.”

Curly nodded, and you began questions. “Were you the captain of the freighter I found you on?” Nod. “Were there exactly five people, counting you?” Nod. “Did the crash do this to you?” Nod.

“Was the crash on purpose?”

He hesitated, then nodded very minutely.

“Did you–” you were cut off. “Jim…my,” he croaked. Well, it sounded more like ‘Jenny’ on account of his lack of lips, but you got the gist. “Jimmy crashed the ship?” Nod. “Did the crew know that?” Shake.

“Shit.” Nod. You chuckled at the nod and he looked up, like he was proud of making you laugh.

“So… do you have your ID with you?” you asked, and he produced a fresh ID from a lanyard under his gown. “Huh. Did Jimmy put that on you?” You asked, to which he nodded. “Was he your friend?” A weak nod. “Do you know why he went batshit? I mean, he’s the only one who could have killed all of your crewmates.” Curly tilted his head like he was wondering what you were asking. You rambled too fast for the machine to pick up. “Oh, yeah. Do you know of a motive?” Shake.

You glanced from the ID card to his face. There’s no mistaking those eyes. You notice there’s something written on the back, but the handwriting is awful. “Um, it looks like Jimmy tried to give me instructions and told a five year old scribe. Can you decipher this?” You asked, showing him the text. Shake. “Fine, I guess. It’s good you have this, facial reconstruction can probably get you pretty close to your face from then.”

He shrugged and laid back, gazing at you. “Wait…” he gasped. “‘lease.” Please.

“Yeah?”

“Stay?” He pleaded, using what remained of his forearm to lock around your arm and keep you (only barely) in place. “’m… s…cared."

“Scared?” You echoed, settling back into your chair and placing a hand on his thigh. “You’re safe here. Everyone who goes in and out of here has high clearance and I know them all personally.” Even still, Curly shook his head. “‘lease,” he echoed.

“I… suppose I could get Sealegs to move my desk into here. Would that be good?” Nod. Nod. Nod. “This is Captain to Sealegs, Sealegs, do you copy?”

“I copy. Whatcha need?” Sealegs hummed. The sound of a familiar video game caught your attention.

“Quit playing Snake on government computers, first of all. Wheel my workbench to the medbay,” you requested, only endearingly annoyed at your nephew. After a few minutes, a young boy with the same eyes and hair as you came in with a rolling desk equipped with robotics equipment, soldering items, and more. Curly seemed to relax once you situated beside him and the two of you slipped into a comfortable silence.

“Hey, Curly, can I take some measurements of you?” You asked after a couple minutes. “Arms and legs,” you added. Nod. Curly lifted up a handless arm and waited for you to start, to which you took diameter and circumference of his arm, approximate length, shape of the amputation, and more. You did the same for the other arm and both legs, then you sat back down to work.

──────────────────────

In a few minutes, you put your higher education to use and attached a crude prosthetic to his leg, but since he was numbed to hell it wasn’t causing him any pain. You worked, he watched, and soon he fell asleep painlessly for the first time in probably a half of a year or so, for him at least.

Once he stopped coughing every time you looked away for too long, you were able to get some work done and sent off an update to your boss–you told him that you had a new crew member on board, that you authorized the use of the bio-fabricator, and that you’d pay for his medical costs. Of course, you wouldn’t tell Curly that. Feeling indebted to someone is a terrible thing.

You were in for a long night. You wanted to give him the most mobility possible, but it’d be up to him ultimately to use them. The least you could do is build him the choice.

┌───────────────────────┐

I’m not happy with this, but if I didn’t get it out now it’d rot forever :( thank you to everyone who’s left kind words and reblogs and likes!! It means so much and if youve left any asks I’m so sorry but tumblr SAYS i have 6 asks but none show up :(((

[poepoesstuff]

Satosugu x Reader Series - Part 1: Meeting Gojo & Geto

Notes: I’ve never written fanfiction before, so please don’t take it too seriously! I was just bored and thought about this idea because I love the concept of being in a poly relationship with Gojo and Geto—it seems like so much fun! I’m new to writing, so feedback, questions, or suggestions are totally welcome! I’m just having fun with it.

Tags:

#Satosugu #Gojo Satoru #Geto Suguru #Reader Insert #Jujutsu Kaisen #Satoru Gojo x Reader #Suguru Geto x Reader #Polyamory #Fanfiction #Jujutsu Kaisen Fanfic #Satoru Gojo x Suguru Geto #JJK Fanfiction #Gojo x Geto #Jujutsu High #Satosugu x Reader

-

You guys knew each other from high school. You came to Jujutsu High later but joined the same class as Gojo and Geto, though you were on a different team. The first person you noticed was Gojo Satoru from the Gojo Clan—a lineage you’d only heard of. His reputation and charm immediately intrigued you. However, it was Geto Suguru who ultimately stole your heart with his calm confidence.

You were introduced to the class about a year and a half before Geto’s path took a darker turn.

As Yaga steps into the class, he calls attention to you. You follow him in, and several surprised faces turn to look at you.

“This is Y/N. She’s a kunoichi from a remote village in Japan and will be attending as your classmate from now on. Y/N, introduce yourself.”

You take a breath, feeling the eyes on you, but stand confidently. “I am L/N Y/N, from the C/N Clan. As of today, I’m beginning my journey as a sorcerer at Jujutsu High. My family is known for preserving sorcery knowledge and secrets. As the new heir, I’ve come to study and hone my skills.”

You notice intrigued expressions, especially from a silver-haired boy with piercing blue eyes in the back. Shoko’s gaze also seems particularly curious. Once Yaga leaves, you take your seat and start your Jujutsu High journey. Quickly, you become friends with Shoko, who introduces you to both Gojo and Geto.

First Impressions

Gojo is thrilled to have you in class and wastes no time bringing you up with Geto.

“So,” Gojo nudges Geto with a grin, “what do you think of the new girl?”

Geto raises an eyebrow, already catching onto Gojo’s interest. “You mean Y/N? She has an interesting technique, definitely useful in a fight.”

Gojo laughs, shaking his head. “Come on, that’s not what I meant, and you know it.” He gives Geto a playful shove.

Geto smirks knowingly. “Well, if you’re asking… yes, she’s beautiful. Kinda reminds me of Erika Sawajiri.”

Gojo huffs, crossing his arms. “Right? I knew I had an eye for these things!”

Meanwhile, you feel lucky to be spending time with both of them. Missions become highlights of your training whenever you’re paired with Gojo, Geto, or both.

Gojo Satoru’s Approach to Win You Over

After Gojo admits he’s interested, he goes all out. Here’s how he tries to impress you:

1. Playful Teasing: Gojo loves to make you laugh. Expect playful remarks and witty comebacks whenever you’re around. His goal? To get you to blush.

2. Showing Off His Power: Gojo’s proud of his abilities, and he doesn’t hold back from showing off. From flashy demonstrations of his Limitless technique to skillful moves on missions, he always seems to be “casually” proving how powerful he is.

3. Grand Gestures: Gojo’s not one for small acts. If he learns about your favorite snack, he’ll buy a whole stash of it. If you’re stressed, he’ll invite you on a night adventure to see the city lights.

Continuing from where we left off with Gojo’s approach:

4. Constant Presence: Gojo wants to be around you as much as possible. He’ll always find a reason to sit next to you in class, join you on missions, or just “accidentally” bump into you between training sessions. He’s persistent and makes sure you notice him.

5. Playful Competition with Geto: Knowing Geto likes you too, Gojo can’t resist turning it into a friendly rivalry. He’ll challenge Geto to sparring matches, jokes, or even silly games to try and prove he’s the better choice for you, often with a smirk and a playful wink in your direction.

Geto Suguru’s Approach to Win You Over

Geto’s approach is more subtle, thoughtful, and grounded. Here’s how he tries to capture your heart:

1. Deep Conversations: Geto values getting to know you on a personal level. He’ll ask about your background, your clan, and your opinions on sorcery. These conversations make you feel like he genuinely cares about who you are beyond your technique.

2. Small, Thoughtful Gestures: Geto isn’t flashy but remembers the small details, like your favorite tea or if you’re having a hard day. He’ll quietly leave a comforting note or share a peaceful place he’s found on campus with you. His kindness is understated but leaves an impact.

3. Protective on Missions: Though both he and Gojo are strong, Geto takes a protective role. He’ll keep a watchful eye over you, subtly stepping in to ensure your safety without making it obvious. It’s his way of showing you’re important to him.

4. Respectful of Your Space: Unlike Gojo, Geto gives you space to make your own choices. He never pressures you to spend time with him, trusting that if you like him, you’ll come to him. This gives him a calm confidence, which contrasts with Gojo’s more in-your-face approach.

5. Gentle Rivalry with Gojo: Geto handles the “competition” in a reserved way, knowing Gojo’s personality. While Gojo’s approach is loud, Geto’s is quieter—he focuses on creating genuine moments with you that show his sincerity, confident that his authenticity will speak for itself.

Gojo and Geto were unbelievably close, and you helped them realize their feelings for each other and get together. They were six months into their relationship before they added you.

[dragonsoulage]

Giving back the bird's wings...

feat. Levi Ackerman

After some observing Levi confrontes you about your relationship with your boyfriend. He can't longer look and ignore the feeling that tugged at his heartstrangs. You deserve so much better...

In this story you are working for the survey corps as maid in the headquarters. And you have a really toxic relationship with your boyfriend. Idk why but writing for Levi always makes me want to write something angsty. So here we are ☠️✨ please be aware that some things can trigger. So take a look at the warnings.💖 Oh and I suck in proof reading ☠️

Wordcount:4k

Warnings: Angst, ab*sive relationship, tox*c relationship, mentions of domest*c v*olence, sad, but fluff especially in the end. Levi is really tender with you 💖

You sat there in his office, tears streaking your beautiful face. It hurt him, more than it hurt you.

He found out what happened, not that it was that hard at all, people just needed to take a closer look, a more concerned look behind that happy exterior you always put on.

It was convincing, nearly so convincing that Levi himself might not notice, not right away.

But he cursed himself for not seeing it sooner.

You were a sweet girl, you have always been. So giving and selfless. You weren't in the corps, no. But you worked for them as a maid.

You cleaned and made the beds for the scouts. You cooked and served, and of course always had an ear for everyone who needed it. Not only that, but you were part of the group who made the scout feel like family. Especially the trainees, the new ones.

Levi was always gruff, pretending he would find you annoying.

Although it was indeed the opposite. He knew you was a person that probably would give someone else your last money because they needed it more than you. Too good for this cruel world, too good for him.

Not that he ever had a chance, he always thought to himself. You were taken, not a single lady. Your boyfriend was part of the military policy. A tall guy, strong and really an eye-catcher. But well even when he always seemed so concerned for you, or so nice. He wasn't.

Levis steel blue eyes looked at you, how you hid your face behind your hair. That pain on your face, it tugged in his heart strings.

Why you were sitting here?

Well, after Levi slowly found out what kind of man your boyfriend was, he simply observed you. Some signs were clear, he wasn't dumb. He saw how you hid your bruises, how you cried alone, ate alone. Always trying to avoid when someone asked you...really asked you how you have been.   

But tonight he had enough of observing and lurking around you. He was sure, your tears you shed give it all away.

A barrier that broke after he pointed it out.

"It's not like you think, he can be gentle, I swear. Sometimes he just doesn't know how he should control his strength." your voice was thin, even now you was defending this piece of shit? This man, who claimed to love you? And yet hurt you so much.

"Stop defending him. He hurts you, you don't hurt people that way when you love them." his voice was cold, he was angry. Not at you, of course not. His hand went through his raven strands. "You are too good for him, you give him everything and he did what? Throwing it away? And you still think it's your fault?" There was a chuckle that ran down your spine, he was not amused far from it.

"Some people need-" you wanted to start why you saw something good, you always saw something good, even in the captain himself.

"It still makes my blood run cold, to remember what he did before. You never told me anything at all, or anyone. I don't watch, (Y/N)." he stated firm, and he was really concerned, for you. Too soft, to get hurt by someone like this, a bird in a cage which wings were cut off.

He stood up from his seat makes his way around the desk before he stopped in front of you. Your head hanging low.   

"It's not like I would be oblivious, i-I know what he does." You meant, your voice trembling. When you were small you always wanted a man like you had now, big and strong, popular among the ranks, a smile that makes your heart warm, until you discovered his smile, your boyfriend heart was not real. His smile never reached his eyes. It made you believe that simply you was too different for this world. You were the problem, in being too sensitive, too emotional. Caring too much for everything. You were a smart girl, but you lost your own worth for yourself.

Thinking it was all you ever could get.

"When you know, why then you are still there?" he asked in a deep voice, still standing in front of you, looking down at you. He wanted to get a reaction from you, wanted you to see how damn wrong this was.

"Where else should I go? What do you want me to say?" you asked him, your voice filled with sorrow and yet with anxiety.

"I want you to speak it out." Levi meant, and in his head he was killing this man about the 100th time.

"Speak out what? That hitting your girlfriend is wrong? That insulting her is wrong? Making her do things, she never wanted but never had a choice? This is the world we were born in, everyone has problems. Mine is not different. It is what it is, not that I deserve anything at all when I am taking everything too my heart, I try... I fucking try. And it is me who-" you said, and your voice went a little louder in the end, you wanted to lash out not knowing why, tears started to run down your cheeks again. He stopped you, grabbing your chin and lifted it so you were forced to look at him.   

"You are not aware how this makes my blood thin, to remember what you are to him." Levi himself talking a little louder because of the intensity of this situation. He would never allow anyone to touch you like that again. He would rather die than have the hands of this filthy man on you.

Alone the thought how much you suffered at these hands, not just physical.

But the Captain was right, what were you to your boyfriend? A question you asked yourself a lot, wanted to be better, wanted to improve, although you were already perfect in other eyes...in Levis eyes.

"What am I?" you asked, and you looked so vurnable to him, he wanted to shield you from anything cruel this world offered you.

"You are...precious." these words simply came out of his mouth before he could stop them. Not that they were not true, but maybe because they were too true, to himself.

"(Y/N) you are lovely, probably one of the most...purest people I know. You take care of everyone and everything around you, simply because this is the being you are. You make a place feel like home, because you are home." his voice lower this time laced with raw honesty, not that he sounded pretty about that, it was everything he usually would never say out loud. He then went to one of his knees and hold your hand. Your teary eyes widen, no one ever said anything like that to you. No one appreciated your personality like this.

"At least to me..." he than added thin. You took a shaky breath, tried to wipe your tears away. But his hand already was on your cheeks, his thumb collecting the salty fluid.

"Why are you saying this?" you asked him, it was irony still asking questions if this was true, how bad this man had damaged you?

"Because otherwise you wouldn't see it, not that you would see this now, he damaged you, broke your wings." Levi stated and there was this glint in his eye, a silent promise to himself.   

"He broke more than that, he never had a nice word what he really meant." you spoke and at least you now was lured out of your shell, telling him what you really felt. Levi meant every word he said to you. And he was not known to say things like that. You were that sweet expectation, he needed to let you know what you were to him...you were home.

"Levi..." your thin voice spoke his name with such a need, because you felt so lost.

"I give them back to you, I promise." he said it just made you cry more. You felt like you wanted to crawl inside you, away from this situation. Levi would give you back your wings, that were cut of so rudely.

"Shhh." he soothed you then before you was pulled into a warm hug. You were sobbing, like crying out every bit of pain your boyfriend gave you.  

After that conversation, Levi would never allow you to go back to that bastard, not with the knowledge he had.

You stayed in the headquarters. Levi stayed the whole time by your side, until you fell asleep, you were just so exhausted from all the crying and the distress. After he was sure you slept safe and sound he made his way out.

"Where you're going to this time?" a known voice was heard behind him, Levi turned around it was the Commander Erwin.

"Taking care of things." he replied, and it was with a cold tone, hard like steel. Erwin for sure wasn't clearly in the picture what had happened, but he knew Levi wouldn't react like this when it wouldn't be necessary.

"What things?" Erwin asked sternly.

"Removing some trash around here." Levi answered, not giving away at all what his dark plans were.

"Whatever you need to do, make sure it disappears thoroughly." the Commander said before he let Levi go his way. He knew he was going to kill someone, and that someone would be your heartless boyfriend....

Levi knew you would cry, he knew you would break. But you were broken long ago from a person who never even deserved all the love you could give.

His stepped were determined, with that one purpose. Someone who was just so fragile as you and yet so strong trying to hold your head above water, it hurt him.

You were drowning all by yourself, and this bastard of a man pushed your head underwater, filling your lungs so you couldn't scream.

It was unfair to him, like so many things. So many things weren't right, but this, this was not just something. You were good, lovely even, and Levi knew when it was time to let things rest, but this? How should he rest when he knows the bitter truth that someone was making your life harder. Making your life...not worthy.

When Levi reached his place he wanted to be he took a deep breath before he knocked on that door.

Someone opened it, indeed your boyfriend with that bright smile, that smile that teared you apart.   

"The Captain of the Survey Corps, how can I help?" he asked him not aware how the next hour would go for him. Besides the fact that he didn't even ask for you. Your work was done about 3 hours ago, and you didn't come home. Levi knew that because he was the one who stopped you from going home.

"Hm, just checking up on things. Your girlfriend works for us, just doing some check-ups." Levi said gruffly in a low voice, his eyes looked hard, although they always did. He was short yes but not less an authority, he stepped into your home, the home you shared with this man.

"Oh yeah of course, we do these check-ups too, in our ranks." your boyfriend replied with curt smile letting Levi in.

"Where is she?" the Captain asked quiet stern, as he walked through the living room his hand resting on the sofa you probably used to sit.

"(Y/N)? Running some errands by now, she is always up on her legs. Like the good maid she is." he chuckled and well indeed he had this charm, seeming so nice and polite. All an act just to make people think he would be worth something. The short man sighted running a hand through his hair before his steps stopped. Turning around to the man.

"Errands? To this time? Isn't it a little late for that?" he cocked his head to the side, like if he was testing him. Your boyfriend was lying into his face, like he lied to everyone. It made Levis heart heavy to know that you belonged to this piece of shit. Someone who not even cherished you, who wouldn't give anything to you. Not more than a hit to you, not more than just empty words.

How often had you cried, because of him? How often your pretty eyes turned red? How often did you hid in your bedroom, hoping the next fight would be over. It was nearly like Levi could see all those things happen when he was inside this place.

"Well, yes it is late. But you know her, right? She wants to get things done." the other man meant not giving away anything. Levi groaned before the door was closed from the outside.

"Yeah she wants that, she always does a good job." Levi meant and walked closer to the tall guy who claimed to love you.

"It's not safe at all for a woman like her to wander around alone to this time, don't you think?" his voice cold, not a hint of warmth. God Levi would give everything, everything to protect you. Slowly your boyfriend turned irritated by these questions, the behavior. He furrowed his eyebrows tried to wave this off.   

"Women like her?" he asked Levi with a certain edge in his voice.

"Women like her....soft, and good, make you warm around your heart with a single smile. Make your day better by walking by. The way she pours in tea...with such a determination to make someone happy nearly can be annoying when it wouldn't be so beautiful." Levi mumbled more to himself, when he realized how much you meant to him. How much you affected him.

"You don't deserve her, and you know it don't you?" Levi asked him the direct looking nearly menacing in his face.

"What you are talking about? Sure you are still doing check-ups?" your boyfriend asks and slowly there was this other side getting out, his face turning stern and angry.

"Yeah, check-ups on you. You really thought you hid it well enough?" Levi started and well Levi was shorter yes, but this guy wouldn't stand a chance against him.

"It is not of your concern what is between me and my damn girlfriend." he stated with a low and dangerous voice, all that bubbly and happy side he appeared vanished in this second, it was clear it was never real.

"She is my concern, she was when she started working by us. She hides her bruises well enough, you don't hit her face, I give you that." Levis words meant to provoke, to justify his actions he would take. And Indeed your boyfriend never hit your face, it was always so pretty, and he didn't want to ruin it, but he didn't want anyone to notice what was happening behind closed curtains.

"And? What now? Reporting me to the higher ups? Congratulations Captain, no one cares about a fucking maid." your boyfriend claimed with a cruel chuckle, cracking his knuckles.

"It's already too late for that, when you really think this here has a happy ending for you, than you have not paid enough attention boy." Levi grumbled and then it started...   

That "fight" was short, indeed short, your boyfriend was so fast on the ground with Levis form hanging over him, bashed against the wall. Not more than a howling hound now.

"Please, I never do it again!" that tall guy cried, after he got hit many times in the face. His wrists already broken because of Levi.

"I swear! Stop, please." he begged, begged for his life, never did he thought something like that would happen. That someone would come and actually give him a lesson, but more than that to actually punish him for what he did.

"You didn't stop, when she asked you to." Levi spit out into his face, maybe it was wrong, maybe this was the wrong approach to do it. But man like him would never change, they would find the next victim. You already suffered enough... maybe it would hurt, but this pain, Levi knew he would be able to heal it for you. At least this is what he wanted to try.

With some more action of Levis fists your boyfriend slumped to the ground, alive but barely breathing. He asked himself why someone like Levi came to do justice for you.

"You want her to yourself." he stated with a weak and raspy voice.

"It's not about what I want, but what needs to be done. She suffered in your hands, and this what I gave you was not even the half of everything she went through. How could you hurt her?" Levi asked him grabbing his throat looking him dead in the eyes.

"Because she let me... because she is that pretty bird I wanted to keep in that cage." he answered and maybe your boyfriend was now honest for the first time in his life.

"She is good and you knew that. A shame that a man like you had her, had the chance to love a precious being like her and yet ended up locking her up, cutting off her wings, for what use? Because you felt strong? What a pity you need to be, when you need to hurt others to feel strong? Piece of shit." Levis voice was dangerous sharp like a dagger he meant every word, he was so angry at this guy.

"And now do me a favor and fucking die." was the last Levi said to him before he snapped his neck.... it was done now, he removed the trash.   

Weeks went on after this incident, your boyfriend...he was being missed, his body not found, simply no one expected him to be dead, but he vanished.

You were aware what had happened, even when Levi never told you exactly that he committed murder. It was not like that tit was selfish, but he couldn't watch, couldn't watch how you would always be haunted by the actions of this man. And well...you truly let your happy guard down, behind that a sad girl, a broken one. So much weight on your delicate shoulders, a weight he wanted to lift. Levi would carry every burden, even when you never wanted him to.

He gave you time, not even expecting you to love him, to show him a sign of something, a small glimpse. Everything he wanted was that you felt safe, felt cherished.

Levi was in his office again but when he looked outside the window for just a fleeting moment, his eyes caught your sight.

You stood there in your maid dress you always wore, you finished working. Standing outside and handing out some pastries you bake. Of course Sasha was literally eating out your hand before Connie and Jean could get some. You weren't healed, but you seemed lighter, there was something about you now...something that made him want to believe it was justified what he did. He would give everything to a new sight to drink you in. The woman that was so gentle, yet always ready to give everything she could, just for a smile from another. The Captain found solace in watching you, your features highlighted by the sun. These lips that curled into a warm chuckle. These eyes that always gave away how you felt. At least to those who took a look, a real look.

He would give everything to borrow your indifference to see the world through your eyes.

You two had something together, the world had been unfair to both of you and yet you were able to be like this. Able to give that what Levi couldn't show. Not that these feelings weren't there, he cared a lot, more than he would admit, but you were the part that showed it.

You would complete him.

After you gave the three scouts the pastries you then went inside again, not many moments went over and he heard a knock. "Come on in." he replied with a curt voice. And there you was, none of you talked about the fact he made your boyfriend disappear.

You opened the door, with a tray in your hands, a warm cup of tea, Earl Grey, no sugar with a shot milk. And one of the pastries you bake, glazed with honey and walnuts.

"Before my shift is over I don't wanted you to pass out the chance to get one of those, before Sasha and Connie will kill all the pastries." you spoke with a sweet voice. You still seemed to carry a burden, yet you seemed lighter. You placed the tray on his desk, stood there next to him for a moment. Furthermore, you were thinking. There was this tension, the question if you should ask or not since weeks. The tension wasn't bad at all, but it was palpable. So much Levi felt it too.

"Your shift is already over, I know when it ends, and you worked longer than you have should." Levi pointed out with a short nod to the clock.   

Indeed, your shift would have ended about 45 minutes ago. You wiped your hands on your apron before your face turned to him.

"Yeah maybe it was, but I enjoy being here. It's home now, remember?" you answered and was referring to the fact that he told you, you were home. And it struck his heart for a moment when you said that. You weren't shocked about what he had done? You were sweet and gentle yes, but not oblivious. Likewise, you knew your situation had been bad, probably when Levi wouldn't have noticed, when he wouldn't care you would still be locked away like the bird without wings you were.

Yearning for freedom. You were still learning, learning to fly, learning to take your freedom Levi gave you. You were living in the headquarters now, not that old home that hold so many gruesome memories to you.

He gave back your wings, the feathers slowly grow back, with each passing day.

"(Y/N)... I-" for once Levi wanted to start, wanted to explain why he did it. But you shut him up, with a simple gesture. Shoving the tray closer to him.

"You gave me back, what I wasn't able to get myself. Maybe it was not the perfect way. But...what is even perfect?" you asked instead you looked him deep in the eyes.

A silent understanding. It was a moment that not seemed to went over.

"You are." Levi replied, when he said that your eyes went so soft. It has always been like this, he never expected anything in return for what he did. He yearned for you, for so long, for that understanding and lovely woman you were. The way you made him warm around his heart.

Always feeling so unlucky when you had been taken, by a man who never truly wanted to see you. Because Levi saw everything about you. Every aspect that made you...you.

He lived like he got missing limbs, for you. So often he felt a piece missing. A missing heart next to his.

"Don't say that, Captain." you meant to him before you bend down a little because he was sitting, and you had been standing next to him.

"You said I am home... I want you to say that I feel like you are home too." you spoke before you took a deep breath, leaning in and giving him a sweet kiss on his cheek.

The usual stoic Captain, so composed. He felt vurnable for a short moment. Someone who saw behind his exterior, even with the things he has done, and would do again.

"Thank you, Levi. For everything." you whispered wanted to turn awa

[beef-brisket]

Adam whined. He needed Lucifer so badly.

He tried to lower himself on Lucifer, he can feel his dick poking into him. He's so close, but Lucifer is holding him up.

Adam: Come on, Lu! Please?

Lucifer: Are you feeling desperate?

Adam: Y-Yeah!

Lucifer: I bet you wish I was fucking you. Hard. And fast. Breaking you apart~.

Adam moaned as Lucifer's tip slowly entered him. He whined when Lucifer stopped moving him.

Adam: C-come on- fuck!

Lucifer: Look at you, so desperate, so needy. It's not nice being teased, is it, love~?

Adam: I'm sorry, Lu! It was just fun! I didn't mean it- please! I'm sorry! Pleas-ahh! Fuck~!

Adam tenses and moaned as Lucifer dropped him in his dick, and started fucking him hard and fast.

Lucifer: Beg for me~.

Devil Lucifer x Ghost Hunter Adam

@beef-brisket ((Here it is lol))

Adam is trying to prove that ghosts are real so he started a YouTube channel with his friend Lucifer, who unbeknownst to Adam is the literal Devil.

-

Adam: I'm telling you Lu, this place is super haunted I can feel it.

Lucifer was unloading their filming gear as they got ready to go into this supposedly haunted prison.

Lucifer: I don't know Ad, you'll need more proof than just the wind.

Adam frowned: It was a whisper and you know it.

[evadnesworld]

a cure to jealousy- head pats, xavier x reader

c/w: probs ooc, lowercase everything, xaviers jealous, that new kitty events got me in a chokehold, sickness (cold),

youre an attractive person, xavier knows that- i mean who wouldnt want you? you had the most beautiful smile, one that reached your eyes, speaking of eyes- yours were beautiful. to xavier they were like the stars, nebulae would shy away in awe and jealousy because of your sheer beauty. you hands, hands which he could hold, nuzzle against, the same hands that gave him pats whenever and wherever were now being held by anthor.

if you asked anybody what this sight looked like, they would respond by saying it was a confession, one that was being rejected. they would pay no attention to you soft familiar hands, your dazzling eyes, and your sincere smile. but for xavier- it was all he could look like. i mean, how dare this rando think he could hold you hand without permission?

but before that, allow me to paint the picture for you.

xavier had fallen ill shortly after magically evolving into a feline, you two werent sure it was because of the transformation- but one thing was for certain, it was a bad cold. he was sweating, his cheeks red, his voice raspy- if this was a different situation, it wouldnt cause much worry. but seeing how frail he was, you had declared that you would go to the store to buy him some medicine.

and my declare, i literally mean that- not only was he clingy because he was a cat but he was clingy because he was sick. so he turned into the ultimate clingy monster.

so, you decided to venture out of your shared home to the local pharmacy, thats where you saw a fellow coworker- one who did not know you had a boyfriend.

and as you purchased the medicine and began to walk back home as you approached your door, h stoppd you- with red cheeks, and a rapid heartbeat he grabbed your hand. and as though it were only the two of you there, he yelled out "i like you, please go out with me!" and if this was a shojo manga, this wouldve been cute.

but it wasnt.

you promptly rejected him, letting go of his hands after a moment- not knowing that your boyfriend lingered by your door, seeing all of this unfold.

after you had left, he decided to take a nap- but not seeing you, or feeling your presence made him pout. his ears ringing, his hart thumping, making so much noise that most of his thoughts were drowned out. but one lingered, and this thought was about you and your absence.

he decided to get up, and wait by the door, no matter how many weird stares he got from neighbors wondering by this sickly boy was standing by the door for so long.

you stopped when you saw him before smiling, a smile which instantly disappeared as he looked away with a pout.

"have you already decided to abandon me so quickly? youre so quick to hold the hand of others, but ever since i got sick youve kept your distance from me." his ears dropped as he crossed his arms, tilting his chin down for an added effect.

you walked over to him, not without chuckling- which wasnt taken well. his ears seemed to droop even more now.

"xav, it was just a guy from work, i rejected him- he was nowhere near as good as you." you teased as you brought your hand to pat his head, this was also not well recieved. he turned his head away, rejecting the pats even though thats what he desperately craved for at the moment.

you ushered him inside the house and turned to him once more as the door closed, "dont worry xav, my hearts only with you. but if you insist that it isnt then ill hav no choice but to leave." you let out a fake somber sigh,

to say this alarmed xavier was an understatement, because that pout soon turned into a frown. if it was any other day, hed insist- but with this horrible cold that decided to attack him, he leaned into your touch with defeat.

and it was there when you felt the familiar softness of his hair as he allowed you to stroke his ears once more. he sounded as though he was purring- your touch made him melt. his body slumping against yours as you two made your way to your shared bed. and after giving him medicine, he clung onto your like there was no tomorrow.

and you too had to accept defeat as you laid with him, his breaths slowing as he surrender to his drowsiness- peaceful now that you were by his side and not somebody elses. content with your warmth, and more than content that hed spend the rest of his life with you.

at least he hoped he would.

dividers from @/nicodefresas and @/konatasoup

how do i improve this story? i know hes ooc, but what would make him less ooc?

[girlwtdragontattoo]

Yandere Bard x Reader - Primal

I finally got a chance to finish this lol enjoy some smut

Summary: your childhood, musical friend Elphael is madly in love with you, fantasizing about you in secret and planning to make you his. Finally, you've seen reason and accept his love.

Warning: 18+, explicit language, explicit scenes, penetration, obsessive, toxic behavior, dub-con

Read the previous parts here:

1, 2, 3, 4

-----

Elphael's eyes roamed over your exposed skin, drinking in every curve and dip. His hands trembled as they hovered just above your chest, as if he was afraid to touch you and shatter the dream.

"You're perfect," he breathed, voice thick with awe and desire. "Even more beautiful than I imagined."

Before you could respond, his mouth was on you once more. He trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck to your collarbone, nipping and sucking as he went. His tongue swirled down your nape, the scent of his saliva made your whole body tense up. His hands finally made contact with your skin, palms sliding up your sides to cup your breasts.

You arched into his touch with a gasp, head falling back against the pillow. Elphael took the opportunity to lavish attention on your throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there as his thumbs played with your nipples. He drifted down, the warm breath pulsing against your anticipating skin.

His tongue swirled around your nipple before taking it into his mouth, sucking gently. You arched into him more with a gasp, fingers tangling in his silver hair. The sensation sent sparks of pleasure through your body.

Elphael's free hand trailed down your stomach, coming to rest at the waistband of your pants. He looked up at you, eyes dark with desire.

He was waiting for further confirmation, terrified that any wrong movement would make you disappear, that this was still a dream and he would wake up from it in a desperation. Your gazes met each other and you saw the famished eyes pierce into you. No one had ever wanted you like this before.

You gave a quick smile and nodded for him to continue.

That was all he needed, to fully let loose.

With a jolt, Elphael ripped your pants open.

His eyes blazed with lust as he gazed upon your newly exposed skin. This was a sight he had yearned for, for centuries. In his pent up agony, you noticed him tremble with anticipation. You were even more beautiful than he imagined.

"Mine," he growled, voice low and possessive. "All mine."

Before you could react, his mouth was on you, hot and insistent. His tongue laved over your most sensitive areas, drawing a startled gasp from your lips. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of that exquisite sensation.

Elphael's strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you. Years of pent-up desire fueled his actions, making him almost frantic in his need to taste every inch of you. The taste of you, your intoxicting zest filled his mouth as he sucked. His skilled tongue found your most sensitive spots, circling and flicking in a maddening rhythm.

You writhed under him, while you let out noises you had never heard yourself make before.

Elphael's tongue worked feverishly, lapping at your folds with desperate hunger. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs as he held you open, savoring every taste and texture.

You arched off the bed, gasping and trembling as waves of pleasure coursed through you. Your hands tangled in his silver hair, alternating between pulling him closer and pushing him away as the sensations became overwhelming.

"Elph," you moaned, voice breathy and wrecked. "Please, I..."

"I need you," he interrupted, his voice was unnerving. He never sounded like that before. "All of you."

In one fluid motion, he rose up and captured your lips in another searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he devoured your mouth. His hands roamed your body, mapping every curve.

Elphael broke the kiss to hastily remove his own clothing, revealing his tattooed lavender skin. The celestial designs seemed to shimmer in the dim light as he positioned himself between your legs. His arousal pressed insistently against your thigh, hot and eager.

His eyes locked with yours, burning with an intensity that took your breath away. He positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his length just barely pressing against you.

"Tell me you want this," he growled in a husky note. "Tell me you want me."

You nodded frantically, beyond words at this point. But that wasn't enough for him. He needed to hear it.

"Say it," he demanded, grinding against you teasingly. "I need to hear you say it."

"I want you," you gasped out. "Please, Elphael. I want you."

A primal moan rumbled in his chest at your words. Without further hesitation, he pushed into you in one smooth thrust. You cried out at the sudden fullness, your body half falling off the bed, shaking viciously.

Elphael stilled for a moment. You were so warm around him.

His grey eyes rolled back in ecstasy as he sheathed himself fully inside you. The tight heat of your body enveloping him was beyond anything he had ever imagined. He let out a shuddering breath, struggling to maintain control.

"Fuck," he groaned, strained with the effort of holding still. He was fearful he would explode immedietly. He needed to savor this. You.

You whimpered beneath him, adjusting to the stretch and fullness. Your hands clutched at his biceps, feeling the muscles coiled tight with restraint. After a moment, you rolled your hips experimentally, drawing a hiss from Elphael's lips.

Taking that as his cue, the drow began to move. He started with slow, deep thrusts, enjoying every inch of you. But his control quickly unraveled as years of pent-up desire took over. His pace increased, hips pounding down into you. The loud clapping against each other joined the chorus of your moans. He pulled you up by your arms, holding you up with his strong arm against your back. He stared into your eyes as your hot breath intermingled with his own.

Elphael's thrusts became more frantic as he held you against him, his grey eyes blazing dark and cardinal. The new angle allowed him to hit deeper inside you, drawing breathless cries from your lips with each powerful snap of his hips.

He growled again, voice rough with possessive desire. "Say it. Tell me you're mine."

You gasped, struggling to form words as pleasure overwhelmed your senses. "Y-yours," you managed to stammer out. "I'm yours, Elph."

A feral grin spread across his face at your words. He captured your lips in another deep kiss, tongue plunging into your mouth as he continued to drive into you relentlessly. One hand tangled in your hair, gripping tightly as he feasted on you.

In one fluid motion, Elphael flipped you over. Your knees sank into the mattress. Elphael’s hands grabbed your ass so tightly that the intensity of his grip made your body jolt slightly. His fingernails dug into your flesh as he let out another shaky sigh. The sight of you like this drove him insane. He repositioned himself and thrust back in. The way he filled you up again made you scream out loud.

His pace grew frantic again, almost punishing in its intensity. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your breathless moans and Elphael's guttural groans. You could feel the tension coiling tighter in your core, threatening to snap at any moment.

One hand snaked around to rub tight circles against your most sensitive area, quickly pushing you towards the edge.

"Come for me," Elphael commanded, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to feel you fall apart around me."

You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You had to obey him.

Your body wavered as pleasure coursed through every nerve, while his continuous thrusts made the ecstacy take over even more. Elphael groaned deeply as he felt you clench around him, your release coating his length and allowing him to slide even more smoothly in and out of your quivering form.

"That's it," he growled, his voice growing louder with the effort of holding back his own release. "You're so perfect, so beautiful when you come for me."

His thrusts were erratic, chasing his own pleasure now. One hand gripped your hip bruisingly tight while the other tangled in your hair, pulling your head back. His lips latched onto your neck, sucking and biting as he drove into you relentlessly.

"Mine, mine, mine, MINE!" he panted against your skin between kisses. "All…MINE!”

With a final, powerful thrust, Elphael buried himself deep within you.

You could feel the hot pulse of his release, filling you completely.

For a long moment, you both remained still, panting heavily as you came down from your shared high. Elphael's forehead rested between your shoulder blades, his breath hot against your sweat-slicked skin. His arms trembled slightly as he held himself above you, careful not to crush you with his weight.

Slowly, gently, he eased out of you and rolled to the side, pulling you with him. You found yourself cradled against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if he was afraid you might vanish. The rapid beating of his heart gradually slowed beneath your cheek.

Elphael's fingers played with your now wet hair. He pressed soft kisses against your temple, stopping in between to catch his own breath again.

“I love you…”, he murmured. “Please…don’t go…I didn’t think-”

You looked up at him. You could see his eyes were filled with terror. He had let himself lose control and he was anxious it had been too much.

You smiled serenly. “Don’t worry Elph. I liked it.”

Elphael's eyes widened, a mix of relief and disbelief washing over his features. "You...you did?" he breathed.

You nodded, reaching up to cup his cheek. He was so beautiful, this bashful and nervous version of him was what you knew and already loved. That primal version though… that was something else. Something you equally enjoyed.

A tentative smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He leaned into your touch, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. "I've wanted to show you for so long," he murmured. "I was afraid I'd scare you away."

You chuckled softly. "Well, you certainly surprised me. But I'm not going anywhere."

Elphael's arms tightened around you, pulling you closer. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. A small tear escaped him.

"Good," he murmured. "Because I can’t let you go now.”

You caught yourself smiling at that statement.

[dollfacepopstar]

Single Drop: One of the Girls

oh heyyy dolls! ur girl Dollface is back with another hot single.

thx so much for all the support so far, you hotties made me feel so loved! I make these for you babes ❤️

I had a couple of songs that I was going to drop next, but yesterday I was working on these lyrics and like, omg, the beat that came from them is just sooo hot.

this song is like every beta fag’s dream scenario. It’s about a group of hot confident bitches seeing right through a pathetic boy and turning him into a hottie like them.

I’ve already been doing naughty things listening to this song, now it’s ur turn 😈

love love, Dollface mwah xo

oh and P.S., for you girlies that want the lyrics to sing along to, here you go 😘

We know your little secret And it’s time we let it out

(Verse 1) Oh boy, I think it’s time you stopped acting tough Oh boy, my girls and me we’ve all had enough Oh boy, we notice every time you stop and stare But you’re checkin’ out our heels and our nails and our hair (How do we look?)

Oh boy, it’s why we brought you over tonight Oh boy, and there’s not another guy in sight (You don’t count) Oh boy, cos we’re getting ready to go out And you’re one of us tonight we’ll show you what it’s all about

(Pre chorus) Sabrina’s playing through the speaker Perfume’s in the air If you’re nervous just relax babe No one’s gonna care

(Chorus) You’re one of the girls tonight You’re lookin’ so glam You’re one of the girls baby You’re going home with a man Because you’re one of the girls tonight

(Break) Are you starting to get the picture babe? Like, the only man inside of you is…well….oh my god I can’t say it giggles

(Verse 2) Hey girl, your dress is hugging all your curves (Bodycon) Hey girl, your nails oh they look superb (French tip) Hey girl, your makeup is a total slay (Fake lashes) So hot, so fierce, so glam Wait, are you sure you’re not gay?

Hey girl, come and look at this pic he sent today (she’s like literally drooling!) Hey girl, you like the look of that big D-I-C-K? (she loves it!) Hey girl, I know we told you nothing would go down (Oopsie!) But there’s a reason we get so dolled up for town

(Pre chorus) Britney’s playing on the aux We’re heading to the club You’re touching up your lip gloss And you wanna give it up (Yeah, she’s totally giving it up tonight, she wants it so bad!)

(Chorus) You’re one of the girls tonight You’re lookin’ so glam You’re one of the girls baby You’re going home with a man Because you’re one of the girls tonight

(Bridge) Shots and dancing in a sexy haze Girl you’ve never felt so free

Across the room he catches your gaze And suddenly your on your knees

You thought this was all fashion and fun But now you’re Asking him pleading him Begging to come

(Chorus) You’re one of the girls tonight You’re lookin’ so glam You’re one of the girls baby And you’re pleasing your man

You’re one of the girls tonight And it feels so right You’re one of the girls baby So ride your man all night Because you’re one of the girls

(Outro) So like, how big was he? Oh my god are you serious? You’re so naughty girl! Are you seeing him again?

Okay girl That was fun Same time next week? Sounds hot

Mwah

[biscuityskies]

Several sentence Sunday (<— seven sentence sunday <— six sentence sunday)

I was tagged by my dear @c-c2224, so here’s something I’m working on for the codywan comfort flash event!

“Commander?” the medic asks, confused, as Cody steps into the med tent. “Are you hurt? Already? We haven’t even started combat yet.”

“No,” Cody replies shortly, scanning the room for a rogue vambrace. “Have you seen—”

“No, General Kenobi isn’t here either,” Hex cuts him off, turning back to his current problem (a trooper with a pulled muscle) since Cody clearly seems to be fine. “I would wager he’s in the command tent.”

“That’s great,” Cody says absentmindedly. He runs a weary hand down his face. “If you see a spare piece of armour that looks like it might belong to me, will you please let me know?”

“Sure,” Hex frowns, not bothering to look up at Cody as he leaves the tent.

Cody sighs deeply. Things don’t just disappear into nothingness; that defies all laws of physics. It would be extra stupid if his vambrace was the first ever example of something that didn’t act how it definitely should.

Of course, not including the Jedi. They’re an outlier and should not be counted.

No pressure tags to @dontbelasagnax @anxiousotters @ferretrade @friendlyneighbourhoodelf and @meebles! Also extending the invitation to the broader world - if y’all’re working on smth I’d love to see it <3

[thescarletnargacuga]

AVIATION ENTHUSIAST

A TIME CAPSULE AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT

Caine geeks over airplanes, Pomni finds it informative and adorable

AU credit @mangotangerinepastry @the-amazing-digital-time-capsule

WARNING: none

~~~

In the late evening hours, long after the guests had gone for the day, Caine sat at the grand piano backstage. The large wooden cover for the keys was down, as he wasn't planning on playing it tonight. Instead, multiple model WW1 era airplanes sat the length of the piano like it was a runway. Small jars of paint and tiny brushes sat on a messy rag draped over the closed top of the piano.

Caine dipped one of his fine bristled brushes into the red paint to work on the detail of the biplane he held delicately in his hand. Light splotches of paint stained his gloves. He hummed to himself as he worked.

"Keep the home fires burning...while your hearts are yearning..." He finished the fine detail on his freshly painted plane and carefully set it down to let it dry. "Though your lads are far away...they dream of home..." He cleaned off his brush and grabbed a plane that was barren of any paint. With a new, larger brush, he started applying the base coat. "There's a silver lining... through the dark cloud shining..." He was so focused on his work, he didn't see Pomni out of the corner of his eye. "Turn the dark could inside out, till the boys coooome hoooome."

Pomni quietly approached and sat on the piano bench next to Caine. Caine paused what he was doing for half a second, impressed he didn't hear her get close until she was sitting down. "What are you doing up so late?" He asked without looking up.

"I don't really know. Just one of those nights." Pomni sighed, overlooking the display of model aircraft. "You made these?"

"Yep. Built and painted every one of them. Please don't touch, they're delicate."

Pomni put her outstretched hand in her lap bashfully. "I wasn't gonna-"

Caine sent her a strong side eye.

"I wasn't." Pomni reaffirmed with a defiant pout.

Caine didn't fight the small smile her adorable reaction gave him, and went back to focusing on painting the model in his hand.

Pomni kept her hands firmly in her lap as she took close looks at the impressively detailed airplanes. "What's this one?" She pointed to a sleek, steel grey sesquiplane.

Caine only glanced briefly to see which one she was referring to. "The Nieuport 17. One of the most agile planes of its time. It could outmaneuver the German eindeckers with a climbing speed of over 113 mph."

"Wow, very impressive." Pomni smirked at his info dumping. "What about this one?" She pointed to a bright blue plane with three sets of wings stacked on top of each other.

Caine looked away from his work a bit longer this time. "Uh, that is a Sopwith Triplane. Also known as Tripes, only 160 were ever made and exclusively for the British Royal Navy. Don't let their weird design fool you, they were exceptionally maneuverable and packed serious heat with a Vickers .303 machine gun mounted behind the propeller."

"Cool. Oh! What about this one? I really like the paint job." Pomni excitedly pointed to a grey-green biplane with a black lightning-shaped arrow painted on the sides.

Caine set down his paintbrush to pick up the chosen plane. "One of my personal favorites, the Albatross D.VA. They were the first fighters powered by 160-hp Mercedes in-line engines which gave them the power to carry two 7.92mm synchronized machine guns. These proved superior to all other Western Front one-gun fighters. They were sent first to specialized squadrons of one-seat scout fighters that were established to achieve local battlefield air superiority. A real shame these marvels of engineering were mainly used by the Germans."

Pomni smiled at how relaxed and open Caine seemed to be while talking about the airplanes in his collection. She wasn't looking at the Ringmaster. She was looking at a man passionate about a hobby. He made these little models feel like real replicas of epic aerial combatants.

Caine noticed how Pomni was looking at him and stopped talking. "Uh- not that, uh, any of this is particularly relevant. Heh." He nervously looked away and set the Albatross down. "Never mind my rambling."

"I don't mind. This is fascinating stuff. I never knew you knew so much about early 1900s aerospace technology, and...I like hearing you talk." Pomni admitted, fiddling with her thumbs.

Caine could swear his heart skipped a beat. "You...do?"

Pomni blushed and quickly pointed to the unfinished plane in Caine's hand. "What'sthatone?" She said so quickly, she was nearly incomprehensible.

"Oh-" Caine cleared his throat, feeling a little warm under the collar. "This is a Fokker."

Pomni did a mental double take. "A what now?"

"I swear, that's its real name. There were quite a few different types of Fokkers, actually. The V38, the E.V. and D.V. series, the eindeckers, and the drideckers. Just to name a few." Caine held up the unfinished model. "This one is an original model Fokker."

"Sounds like the first world war was full of Fokkers." Pomni said with a crooked smile.

Caine saw the joke coming a mile away, but it was still funny. He chuckled, "That it was, my dear. That it was."

[presidenthades]

Can you please give your headcanons on the Alicent & Daemon marriage. It'd be NUTS. We know what Daemon does to a wife with brown hair brown eyes no matter how pretty she is 👀

Also how would TargBros™️ turn out in that family in your opinion? (Aemond would be such a daddy's girl lol) Sadly Daemon doesn't interact with his children at all on the show and Baela even said sometimes she hates him. What would Daemon do with a neurodivergent daughter (Helaena)? Would he dismiss her or would he realise she has dragon dreams?

I believe Daemon is snobby about being Valyrian, and he prefers a Valyrian wife. He also simply does not like Rhea as a person. From what little we saw of Rhea, she’s very headstrong. But so are Laena and Rhaenyra, whom Daemon does like.

The difference with Rhea is that she’s brutally upfront about not liking Daemon, and she verbally cuts him where she thinks it hurts. Meanwhile, Laena and Rhaenyra actually like Daemon, and their headstrong qualities are more akin to flirtatious sassiness than Rhea’s blatant dislike. So Daemon has a certain degree of attitude he will accept from his wife/the women in his life, but he won’t tolerate someone who’s just mean to him (which is fair, although he gives as good as he gets).

I also think Rhea being non-Valyrian AND headstrong is even worse in Daemon’s book. He could justify Laena and Rhaenyra with “they’re Valyrian ladies of the noblest birth, they deserve to be prideful.” But Rhea is of First Men blood and proud of it, without any drop of Valyrian blood. I think Daemon would like (or at least tolerate) her more if she were meeker.

That’s all setup to explain why I think Daemon/Alicent’s marriage could actually work. They wouldn’t love each other, but they could have children, share a household, and fulfill various spousal duties without killing each other.

Alicent is of First Men and Andal blood (some readers theorize the Hightowers also have Valyrian blood due to Oldtown possibly being a Valyrian outpost, but I’m going to ignore that theory in this post). That counts against her in Daemon’s book. However, Alicent as a young girl has a very different personality from Rhea (and Laena and Rhaenyra). She’s demure, courteous, and obedient. She is willing to adapt to her husband’s expectations and tastes, as we can see from how Alicent dresses in Targ colors before the Green Dress scene.

She isn’t whom Daemon would choose, but if he had to marry her, I think he would learn to be content with his marriage. He has a wife who listens to him, takes care of household stuff he isn’t interested in, and publicly presents a united front with him/his house. Although she is the daughter of his hated rival, this might eventually become a positive for him, because he can gloat about bedding Otto’s daughter on the regular. 💀

On Alicent’s side, she seems genuinely pleased when Daemon asks for her favor in S1E1. I think she shares many young ladies’ view of Daemon as a dashing (and roguish) knight. That, plus the fact he’s a Targaryen prince, makes him an excellent marriage prospect for her—on paper at least.

In private, Alicent would probably disagree with a lot of Daemon’s actions/decisions. If she tries to talk with him about it, she would have even less success than with Viserys. She may feel like Daemon looks down on her too much, whereas Viserys at least appears to consider her input (sometimes) when she offers it.

The marriage would almost certainly cause friction between Alicent and Rhaenyra, especially if Daemon continues to push boundaries with Rhaenyra. That’s probably the riskiest part about the marriage. Alicent grew up in a society where highborn women ignore their husbands’ dalliances, but it’s hard when the potential dalliance is her best friend/husband’s niece.

In general, it’s a bad idea to count on kids to save a marriage, but I think it would help Daemon/Alicent. Daemon would be thrilled with four kids—three of them sons—who look extremely Valyrian. Alicent in this AU can focus more on her immediate household and children, without also worrying about duties as queen. She also isn’t stressed about Aegon becoming king, because her children being Daemon’s are definitely behind Rhaenyra according to standard Westerosi succession norms. Also, with Daemon as the father, she isn’t worried about Daemon murking them on Rhaenyra’s behalf.

With Westeros being a deeply gendered society, Daemon would be much closer to his sons than with daughters. He’d be more hands-on than Viserys, and he would personally teach them sword-fighting and dragon riding.

Aegon greatly benefits from an attentive father, a less paranoid mother, and less uncertainty over his heir status (or lack thereof). He probably goes on a lot of Flea Bottom trips with Daemon, but Daemon, who wants his sons to reflect well on him, can make sure Aegon doesn’t go too crazy.

Aemond is probably the favorite child. As the second son of a second son, he bonds with Daemon over that. Lots of father-son bonding in the training yard. I could see Daemon telling Aemond he’ll get Dark Sister one day, but he has to earn the sword first.

Daeron probably keeps the same dynamic with Daemon as in the Handbook. Way too chipper for Daemon’s preference, but Daeron is the baby so Daemon puts up with it. Daeron is definitely not being sent to Oldtown.

It’s normal for daughters’ education to be presided over primarily by their mother, so Helaena ends up being the least close to Daemon. I think he does like having one girl, just to break up the boy litter a bit. He probably has a similar relationship with her as with Rhaena. Distant, no idea how to bond, just leaves her with his wife. Maybe throws her a bug-themed present once in a while. I don’t think Daemon would figure out the dragon dreams on his own, because it he doesn’t believe in such things/disdains them.

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Magnolia - Chapter Eighteen

Rating: Explicit Media: Jujutsu Kaisen Pairing(s): Geto Suguru x Original Female Character, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru x Gojo Satoru x Original Female Character Additional Tags: Vampire AU, Dark Themes, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Depression, Loneliness, Polyamory, Slow Burn, Smut

A/N: Tags will be added as chapters are updated. Please be mindful of the tags and warnings at the beginning of each chapter, as they will tell you what you need to know about the content within.

Minors, DNI.

Summary:

He laughs. “Sometimes. But he does it so well that it’s hard to be annoyed for long, because you end up looking so good.” He uncrosses his arms and steps into the room, closing the distance between them in just a few strides. She turns to face him, feeling suddenly shy now that there’s only a few inches of space between their bodies. “Do you want me to stay out of it?”

Suguru is so good at keeping his face neutral; she can’t tell what he’s thinking at all when he asks. “Stay out of it?”

“Mmhm.” His gaze flickers from her eyes, moves down her body, and then back up to meet her eyes again. “If you want to be alone with Satoru, that’s perfectly okay with me.” 

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Chapter Masterlist

Read on AO3

Chapter Warnings: Oral (f. receiving), Squirting

Chapter Eighteen: Love's Acolyte

“Oh, that’s pretty.” Suguru looks at her from where he’s standing in the doorway of her room, arms crossed over his chest. “It suits you.”

She looks back at herself in the full-length mirror. What Satoru laid out for her is a set, made of lace and in almost the same shade as the dress she’s just changed out of. “Does it ever annoy you, this uncanny skill he has of finding things that look good on you?”

He laughs. “Sometimes. But he does it so well that it’s hard to be annoyed for long, because you end up looking so good.” He uncrosses his arms and steps into the room, closing the distance between them in just a few strides. She turns to face him, feeling suddenly shy now that there’s only a few inches of space between their bodies. “Do you want me to stay out of it?”

Suguru is so good at keeping his face neutral; she can’t tell what he’s thinking at all when he asks. “Stay out of it?”

“Mmhm.” His gaze flickers from her eyes, moves down her body, and then back up to meet her eyes again. “If you want to be alone with Satoru, that’s perfectly okay with me.” 

She hasn’t actually thought about it, and once he poses the question, she realizes she doesn’t actually know. A hot bubble of apprehension inflates in her chest, and she looks down at her feet. “I’ve… never been with two men at once.”

He puts his hands on her shoulders, his palms warm against her skin, and leans down so he can look her in the eye. “You don’t have to be if you don’t want to - not in that way,” he reassures her. “If you don’t want me there, I’ll let you be alone with him. If you want me there, but you just want me to watch, I’ll do that, too.” He smiles down at her, and it’s just as kind as it always is. “And if you say you’d like me to join in, well… I’d love to do that too - but when and how will be totally up to you.” 

Somehow, he always knows just what to say to alleviate her anxiety. “Your knack for finding the perfect words to ease my mind is as good as Satoru’s knack for finding clothing that looks good on me.” 

“Hm,” he hums with a grin. “Does it annoy you as much, too?”

“I can’t say that it does.”

“Good.” She doesn’t think it’s her imagination that he sounds just a little bit smug.

--

Many have loved you with lips and fingers And lain with you till the moon went out; Many have brought you lover’s gifts; And some have left their dreams on your doorstep. But I who am youth among your lovers Come like an acolyte to worship, My thirsting blood restrained by reverence,  My heart a wordless prayer. The candles of desire are lighted,  I bow my head, afraid before you,  A mendicant who craves your bounty Ashamed of what small gifts he brings. -Elsa Gidlow, Love’s Acolyte

--

“You look like a gift, wrapped up just for me,” Satoru tells her. She’s in his lap again, pressed up against him with his hands on her hips. “Suguru… how come you don’t wear this color more often, too?” “You know why,” Suguru murmurs. He joins them in bed and rolls over onto his side, his head resting in his hand as he watches them. “I look terrible in that shade of blue.” He reaches up and lets his fingertips dance gently down the path of Lia’s spine, making her shudder, arching her closer into Satoru. 

And the way Satoru looks up at her makes her skin flush hot all over, because it’s not just lust. It’s not just some half-baked desire that’s sprung up out of nowhere… it’s a different flavor of the longing he looks at Suguru with. She leans forward because she wants to kiss him, again and again and again, and so she does. 

Deeply enough to feel like she’s drowning in him, deeply enough to worry that she’ll go lightheaded if she doesn’t come up for air soon, deeply enough to make her start squirming into him because it feels like the only way to get the friction she so desperately wants. 

“Easy, Princess,” Satoru laughs quietly, when she breaks the kiss to breathe. “I’m right here.” 

“Stop teasing her, Satoru.”

“Me? Teasing her is the last thing on my mind.” Lia believes him, because she can feel how hard he is beneath her - the thin, soft fabric of his boxer briefs doing nothing to hide the evidence of his desire. She can’t tell anymore if the wet patch on the lace panties she’s wearing is from her or him. 

She supposes it doesn’t really matter anyway. 

She reaches between them, wanting to feel him. Wanting to wrap her fingers around him, to gauge his shape and size with her hand. “I want…” The words come out barely louder than a whisper, and they don’t even begin to encompass all of the thoughts that fall under the umbrella of that phrase: I want. 

“Hm?” He nudges her chin up with his finger, so he can look into her eyes. How does anyone resist these eyes? She wonders. Maybe they don’t. “What is it that you want, Lia?” 

“You.” The word spills out of her without any hesitation. There is no shame, no pride in how quickly she answers his question. Her hand finds purchase between them, fingers closing around the base of his shaft. Her stomach flutters at how full her fist feels when she tries to get her fingertips to meet the tip of her thumb, and she draws in a quiet little breath. 

Satoru hears that sharp little inhale, sees the surprise on her face, and it makes him chuckle. He cups the back of her head, bringing her face close to his so he can nuzzle her cheek with his nose. “Why don’t you let me open you up a little first, yeah?” --

Lia still remembers with perfect clarity every single second of the way Suguru put his mouth on her. 

She remembers the way he alternated between using his mouth and using his fingers, the way he kept his gaze on her when he sensed she was getting close to her orgasm, how closely he paid attention to the signs her body gave him and used those signs to dictate what he would do next. 

It had indeed left her speechless, but this is something entirely different. 

The mouth on Gojo Satoru - it makes her wonder, is his tongue fucking battery operated?

The way he’s slurping and sucking and licking, three fingers buried as deeply into her as they can go, massaging her walls - it has her shaking and sweating and biting her fist in order to muffle the sounds she’s making. 

It isn’t Satoru that reaches up and pries her hand out of her mouth. “He wants to hear you, pretty girl,” Suguru coos, pressing a kiss to her palm. “How else is he supposed to know he’s doing a good job?”

Again and again and again, Satoru brings her to the edge over and over, only to pull her back when she’s close. Until she’s seeing stars, until she’s almost in tears, until she’s absolutely incapable of anything other than incoherent babbling. 

Satoru thinks she’s so pretty, with those big tears clumped on her lashes and her swollen lips and sweat-slicked skin. She’s a goddamned work of art, and he’s about to make it better. 

He brings her to the edge one last time, and then takes her over, and it’s so satisfying watching the way she gushes for him… but what’s even more satisfying is the look on her face, the look that lets him know that this is her first time ever being able to do that. 

“What a mess,” Suguru teases her from his place next to her. 

They don’t let her cover her face. Satoru is so, so warm. He finally puts her legs down and drapes himself over her, chest to chest, his soft, wet lips dragging along her collarbone. “Messy girl,” he smirks, exchanging an amused look with Suguru. He lifts his hand, the one that was just inside of her, to Suguru’s lips. “Isn’t she delicious?” Said between kisses, his mouth slotting over Lia’s so she can also taste herself on his tongue and his other hand snaking between their bodies to lightly caress her swollen labia. 

“Just as delicious as I remember,” Suguru agrees. 

“Did you know, Lia? Did you know you also speak a lot with your eyes?” 

She glances over at Suguru, who’s still sucking on Satoru’s fingers. “I’ve been told that once or twice,” she admits. 

“I bet you have.” 

Lia marvels at it - how all the anxiety she felt just a little while ago is gone now. How these two have managed to take that nervous ball of energy that was in the pit of her stomach and turn it into something else entirely. Something that has her wanting so much more, something that brings out of her a greed that she’s never felt the likes of before.

She wonders if a little of that is showing on her face. It must be, if the way the two of them are looking at her is any indication.

“Are you tired, Lia?” Satoru asks. 

“No.” 

“Good,” he grins, shifting a little, just enough for her to feel how hard he is, pressed against her thigh. “Because I’m not quite done with you yet.” 

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