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seungkw1 · 4 months ago

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love me right — ksy

♡ pairing: roommate!hoshi x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], humor ♡ wc: 4.1k ♡ warnings: oral (f. & m. receiving), unprotected piv sex (do not do this), multiple orgasms, a lil spit play, head pushing, thigh riding, somnophilia, cum eating/swallowing, cumming in pants, like 2 seconds of angst, praise kink, hs is down bad for reader, gendered pet names (baby, good girl, pretty girl, etc), bit of fluff at the end ♡ a/n: this is part 2 to make me !! finally got this written hope yall like <3

Ever since you sort-of-accidentally had sex with your roommate for the first time, he’s been nothing but a fucking menace.

Not in a bad way - no, despite the fact that he's kind of an actual insane person he's always been and continues to be a very considerate and agreeable roommate. There's no problem with your living arrangements.

The problem is how fucking insatiable he has become.

You previously never thought there could be such a thing as too many orgasms, but Soonyoung really is testing your limits. You've never had so much sex in your life - and you're not mad about it by any means. But your roommate-turned-friend with benefits is absolutely, utterly, wholeheartedly obsessed with having his entire face buried in your pussy at all possible times. And you love every second of it.

Sure, sometimes your clit kinda feels like it's gonna fall off. Most of the time you've barely recovered from the last set of two, three, four orgasms (the current record is six, a record he's determined to beat) before he’s back between your legs again. But the constant cunnilingus leaves you more sensitive than ever before - and the more you squirm beneath his tongue and scream and cry as he takes you to paradise, the more it gets him off. One time you were wailing his name so much that he actually came in his pants, fully hands-free. The man simply worships you.

You've had various kink-related conversations over the past couple months of nonstop boinking, as these things come up. You wouldn't necessarily say Soonyoung is into anything too crazy (besides the occasional burst of tiger roleplay, anyway), but so far he's been enthusiastically down for everything you've expressed interest in. He’s the very definition of matching one’s freak.

“You know what would be hot?” Soonyoung asks you one day, approximately two minutes after you woke up and emerged from your room.

“Good morning to you too,” you tell him through a sleepy yawn.

“What if,” he continues anyway, “hypothetically, I were to wake you up one day by eating you out?”

“Soonyoung is it nine in the morning,” you reply as you give him a dull glare. You go to make yourself a cup of coffee, but he extends a full mug to you. You take the cup - it’s fresh, piping hot.

“Oh, thanks,” you say, surprised by the kind gesture.

“So?” he prods, eagerly awaiting your reply.

“I mean, yeah, I wouldn’t be mad about that,” you answer with a small shrug.

“NOICE,” he exclaims, pumping his fist in the air.

“BUT-” you quickly add. “That cannot be an everyday thing.”

“Right, of course not,” he agrees with a nod. “Soooo, when can I try it?”

“Well, I can’t tell you that,” you reply straightforwardly. “It’s supposed to be a surprise, that would like, defeat the whole point.”

A wide grin spreads across his face, but he shakes it off right away, playing it cool.

“Okay cool, well I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, grabbing your hand and shaking it vigorously. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

You roll your eyes at him.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” you gibe, but your face cracks into a smile. He pulls you in and kisses you.

“Love you too.”

You freeze.

You may have been intimate with him more times than you can count, but your relationship is strictly casual. You only kiss when you're fucking, and the words I love you have never once been uttered by either of you. You know he probably was saying it facetiously, but the way he said it was so nonchalant. So… realistic. You stare at him for a second, not knowing how to respond. His smile slowly drops.

“Oh, sorry,” he apologizes. His ears immediately turn red with embarrassment.

“No no it’s fine,” you babble, trying to backtrack. “I just wasn't expecting…”

“I was just kidding,” he responds. Then his eyes widen. “I mean not like that, it's not that-”

“It’s fine!!” you quickly interject before he can say anything else. “I know what you mean.”

“Sorry,” he murmurs again. He suddenly realizes he's still holding onto your hand - he swiftly lets go.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you tell him politely with a smile, trying to change the subject.

“Of course,” he replies, trying to smile back at you, but you can tell he's still sulky. He departs from the kitchen without saying another word. He emerges from his room about a minute later in athletic gear, his gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“Off to workout already? I thought you were going this afternoon” you inquire, but he's already breezing past you.

“Yeah, Mingyu just texted me and wanted to meet earlier,” he answers as he grabs his keys.

It’s a bad lie, and you both know it. But you don't press him further.

“Okay, have fun!” you say cheerfully. But an air of tension remains.

“Thanks,” he replies, turning back to glance at you for only a brief second.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Soonyo-”

He's out the door before you have a chance to finish even saying his name.

You stand there for a few moments, staring at the front door, wondering if you've just fucked everything up. You didn't mean to, of course. You were just so taken aback by the stupid L word. It's not something you ever expected to hear coming from Soonyoung’s lips, not about you anyways. But now it has you thinking. Was he simply joking around? Or does he actually have… feelings for you?

A small blip of a thought enters your mind: and do you have feelings for him?

You push it away before you can think about it any further.

The next few days are undoubtedly a bit awkward. Soonyoung is clearly avoiding you - not in a malicious way, but he just so happens to have business elsewhere whenever you're at home.

You're mildly annoyed, but more so you're feeling gloomy about the whole situation. You never meant to do anything to push him away - near-constant fucking aside, Soonyoung truly is a good friend. And now you find yourself missing him.

After an entire week of this nonsense, you decide to confront him. You pretend to be going to sleep, anticipating that he’ll spend some time alone in the common area. A few minutes later your hunch is confirmed when you hear the tv come on, its volume low. You quietly open your door and sneak into the living room. You approach the couch slowly from behind - when you arrive at it, you jump around and plop down next to Soonyoung.

“FUCK,” he yelps, nearly jumping out of his seat. “You scared me!”

“I'm horny,” you tell him bluntly, scooting up next to him. “Let me suck your dick.”

Soonyoung stares at you, looking into your eyes that are now mere inches from his. You can tell he desperately wants to say yes, but he resists. You give him a flirty look, trying to entice him.

“Pleaseeeee?”

“Well, I was gonna watch a movie…” his sentence trails off, unfinished. He tries to shift his focus away from you, but his eyes keep flickering back to yours.

“Seriously?” you ask, crossing your arms. “Since when do you turn down head?”

“Y/n…”

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn't.

“Yes?”

He looks you in the eyes again, then sighs.

“I dunno, I’m just not in the mood right now,” he finally answers. He looks away sullenly.

“Are you okay?”

He looks back at you. He clearly wants to tell you something, but he hesitates.

“About the other day…” he finally speaks. He pauses, in case you have something to say. You don’t; he continues.

“I didn't mean to make things weird. When I said that I loved you.”

“You didn't,” you assure him. You note that he didn’t say anything about it not being true, but you try to ignore that right now.

You take his hand in yours, patting it softly. He looks at you, surprised by the gesture.

“I was being weird, that's on me.”

His mood cautiously lightens. “You sure?” he verifies.

“100%,” you say with a nod. He smiles at you.

“Now will you please put your dick in my mouth?” you request again, looking into his eyes seductively.

A smile creeps onto his face.

“I mean if you're gonna be this fucking hot…”

You give him a mischievous smirk. You tug at his tshirt; he immediately takes it off. He groans as you grab his dick through his sweatpants, his cock starting to harden instantly in response. One thing about Soonyoung - you can do the bare minimum and he’ll have a boner within five seconds. You lick your lips, stroking him slowly through the soft gray fabric. He lets out a deep exhale, relieved by your touch - it had only been a week, but he missed you badly. He craved your touch, craved how insane you make him feel. He drops his head back, his legs spreading as he settles into the couch, shifting his pelvis up so you have full access to his groin. You rub your hand over the thick bulge, squeezing and pulling lightly, causing him to let out a pathetic-sounding moan. He is putty in your hands.

About a minute more of your over-the-pants handjob and Soonyoung is rock fucking hard. You slide off the couch, taking to your knees between his spread thighs. You pull at the elastic waistband, tugging it down over the pulsating bulge in his underwear. You place your mouth on him through the fabric, letting him feel your lips, your hot breath on him.

“Stop teasing me,” he begs after you plant several more kisses on his clothed dick. “Please.”

You gaze up at him, your eyes filled with lust. You reach into his underwear, retrieving his cock, prompting further pathetic moaning. He is leaking with precum - you take him in your fist, stroking up and down at a pace that he finds painfully slow. You place your lips atop the head, lightly sucking up his juices. He cries out as you then swirl your tongue over his tip.

“Aaaah,” he groans, his voice turning gravelly.

You grab his balls and take the rest of the head into your mouth. You hollow your cheeks as you begin sucking on it slowly - each motion of your lips long and drawn out. Saliva accumulates in the back of your mouth - and an overwhelming wetness accumulates in your underwear.

You draw your head back, gazing up at Soonyoung submissively. You collect your saliva, spitting it onto his cock - it trickles downwards. Wrapping your hand around his girth you spread it over his full length, coating his cock with your spit.

“Oh wow,” he mutters, nearly going cross eyed. You take his cock in your mouth once more, swallowing more and more of him until his entire length is down your throat.

“Goddamn baby,” he growls as you bottom out. You begin to bob your head, sucking him off. The sounds being made right now are grotesque - slurping and gagging from you, moaning and grunting from him. But it's only turning you on even more.

“Ohh that's a good girl,” he grumbles as he pets your hair. You increase your pace - saliva coats your lips, dripping down your chin, spreading across your face. The utterly sloppy head has Soonyoung writhing beneath you, babbling unintelligibly as his orgasm draws near.

“Feels so good baby.”

“Fuck you’re so hot.”

“Pretty girl sucking my cock so good right now.”

His other hand ventures to your head, holding you down as his hips jerk and shake. Your throat aches from him fucking it, your eyes well with tears - but your clit throbbing against the stickiness that has flooded your panties proves how much you fucking love this.

“Ohhhhhmygoddddd,” he groans through gritted teeth. “Fuuuuck, y/n… I’m gonna cum…”

He pushes your head down as he releases, giving you several hard thrusts as his cum spurts down your throat. You let him fill you up, eagerly swallowing each burst of his load. His hips slow as his climax wanes. His arms plop onto the couch cushions, his body sinking into the sofa as his body relaxes. He drags one hand to your face, grasping your jaw gently as he slowly pulls you off of his sensitive throbbing cock. He wants to look at you so bad, see that pretty little face with those pretty swollen lips covered in both your juices - but his energy is too drained to even lift his head.

“C’mere,” he pleads softly.

You pull yourself back up onto the couch, pressing your body closely against his. You lay your head on his shoulder as your fingertips delicately trace up and down his cock - it pulsates at your touch.

He turns his head to face you, his nose brushing up against yours. He lifts one hand, tenderly cradling your cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice low and husky.

You feel a pang deep in your stomach. You've been scared to admit it this whole time, but at this point it's undeniable: you are falling in love with your roommate. And god do you want to kiss him.

“Yes,” you whisper, the word hot and breathy against his lips lingering before yours.

Soonyoung grabs your face with both hands, pulling you deep into his kiss. His lips hungrily lock onto yours, his body stilling except for his chest, rising and falling with slow, heaving breaths. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you, holding you tightly, refusing to allow any physical space between you two. You want to stay here for all of eternity.

Slowly, your mouths part - he gives your bottom lip a few more tugs before letting go. His forehead rests against yours, both of you exhaling deeply in tandem. His hands drop to your waist, touching you gently as the warmth of his breath greets your face. He looks into your eyes as he holds you.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

You nod. Quickly tucking his remaining erection back into his sweats, he takes your hands and pulls you up with him, kissing you with each step as you stumble together into your room. You plop onto your bed, pulling Soonyoung on top of you. He rolls over, holding you snugly against him, your legs tangling together as he starts making out with you again. Your aching cunt presses against his thigh as you wrap your legs around him; you begin to grind your hips slowly.

“Wait,” he pauses. He reaches for your shorts, sliding your pajamas and panties off of you. You kick them the rest of the way off, discarding them somewhere on the bed, your shirt quickly joining them. He yanks his own pants off; you straddle his thigh again, your soaked cunt greeting his skin.

“Oh my god,” he groans. “It’s so fucking wet.”

Your hips begin again, dragging your pussy up and down his thigh, your juices spreading everywhere. You whimper at the stimulation, riding Soonyoung’s thick muscular quads as he wraps his arms around your torso. You cling to him as he draws you in close, his mouth wandering to your neck to plant a string of small kisses on the delicate skin. Ceaseless moans escape you as a fire builds in your gut, the burning pleasure of your climax rapidly approaching.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you cry out as you frantically get yourself off on Soonyoung’s thigh. You feel his cock growing hard again - it presses into your belly as it strains against the fabric of his underwear.

“Cum for me babe,” his low voice speaks softly into your ear.

Desperately grinding your pussy on his thigh, you finally release. You scream his name as you cum, legs trembling as your body shakes with vigor. Soonyoung holds you tight, kissing your cheek lovingly as you orgasm in his arms.

“That's my girl,” he murmurs as he kisses your lips. You begin to come down, but your head is still spinning from the overwhelming stimulation. You try to catch your breath, slowing your breathing as Soonyoung rubs your back - but his touch and the warmth of his body sends you into a deep state of relaxation. He whispers something else to you, but before you can even process what he's saying, you are fast asleep.

You’re awoken the next morning by loud, moaning cries.

Still half asleep, you begin to register a familiar bodily sensation. Only when you pry your eyes open and see Soonyoung situated between your legs, do you realize you’re the one moaning. His face is buried in your pussy, licking you slowly, tasting you, savoring every moment of having his tongue in your cunt.

He lifts his eyes, noticing that you’re now conscious.

“Soonyoung what the fu- ohhh,” you question, but are cut off by his lips attaching themselves to your clit.

“Good morning beautiful,” he mumbles into your cunt, refusing to take his mouth of you for a second.

“Oh my god,” you groan. “I forgot I told you you could do this.”

He pauses, looking up at you.

“Do you want me to stop-”

“NO,” you shout, louder than you meant. You lift your hips, putting your folds back in his mouth. He smiles into your cunt, eagerly resuming eating you out.

“Good,” he replies, barely audible as his tongue begins working into your hole again.

Your back arches as his nose presses into your clit, making it throb desperately. He flattens his tongue, licking you all the way up, then swirling around the sensitive bud.

“Ahhh,” you cry out involuntarily. “You’re gonna make me cum already.”

This only eggs him on further. He wraps his arms around your thighs, grasping you tightly as the tip of his tongue quickly flicks over your clit.

“How- fuck, how long have you been down there?”

He glances up at you again, sticking his tongue out exaggeratedly as he continues licking you.

“I dunno, like five minutes maybe.”

“Five?!” you proclaim as your head falls back onto the pillow. You run your fingers through his hair. “That’s it?”

Soonyoung smirks, planting several kisses on your pussy.

“You were already soaking wet when I got here,” he informs you. “Must’ve been dreaming about me.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” you pretend to be annoyed with him, but the moans escaping from your lips undermine your facade.

“C’mon, you like it,” he teases.

“Yeah,” you admit. “I do.”

He grins widely. “Good girl.”

His praise and the way his tongue is now circling your clit send you over the edge. You whine as your orgasm approaches - loud, pathetic sounds filling the air as he sucks and slurps between your thighs.

“Don’t stop,” you beg.

The sensation builds and builds, making you squirm beneath him as every nerve in your body erupts with overwhelming delight.

“Oh fuck- I’m cumming,” you shriek as you reach your high. You cum on his tongue, long and hard - riding out your orgasm on his face accompanied by loud, unabashed cries of pleasure. As your body starts to relax, you release the tight grip you didn’t realize you had on his hair, stroking his head as he softly laps up your release.

“Come here,” you tell him softly, but he doesn’t move. He seems to be even more relaxed than you are right now.

“Just a second,” he responds through deep breaths, his body sinking into the bed.

“Oh my god, did you…”

“Cum in my pants again?” he finishes your question for you. “Yeah. I did.”

He lifts his head, his eyes glazed over in post-orgasm bliss.

“You’re so hot, I couldn’t help it,” he says with an amused grin.

Finally able to move, he rises - his underwear visibly filled with cum. He crawls back up to you, plopping onto his back right beside you. He peels the ruined underwear off, tossing them aside, then stares down at his own mess.

“Lemme just, um…”

He goes to get up, intending to go clean himself off, but you pull him back onto the bed.

“I got it.”

You scoot yourself down, positioning your face near his groin. Slowly you begin to lick his own cum off of him.

“Jesus fuck, y/n,” he groans, his voice deep and low. “You’re filthy.”

“Don’t act like you don’t think this is hot.”

“Oh I do,” he says proudly. “Very fucking hot.”

He strokes your hair as you clean him up. As you finish he pulls you back up, laying you on top of him as he wraps his arms around you once more. Both of you are sweaty, and the embrace is nearly too warm - but neither of you want to move.

You lay there in silence, your head tucked comfortably into his shoulder, peacefully listening to the songbirds chirping as warm morning sunlight filters into the room through the blinds. Soonyoung is breathing so steadily that you think he's fallen asleep underneath you, but eventually you hear your name softly muttered from his lips.

“Hey, y/n?”

“Hmm?” you reply sleepily without moving. Soonyoung caresses your back, dragging his fingertips gently up and down over the soft skin.

“What are we?”

You lift your head, propping yourself up by your elbow. You look down at Soonyoung - he gazes up at you, waiting for your response.

“I don’t know,” you answer after thinking for a moment. “What do you want us to be?”

He reaches for your face, stroking your cheek gently.

“I wasn’t lying the other day.” He stares into your eyes. Despite the fact that he literally just had his face buried in your pussy, it feels overwhelmingly intimate. Your stomach churns anxiously.

“I really do love you.”

You knew he was going to say it, but your heart skips a beat anyway. Hearing him say it out loud, hearing him confess his love to you - it’s a thought that previously scared you. But you no longer fear confronting this reality. Now that you’re here, it feels comfortable, it feels right.

“I’m sorry if that makes things weird between us, but it’s the truth,” he says timidly. “I just can’t deny it any longe-”

You cut him off with a kiss.

You kiss him for far too long - but it’s never long enough. When your lips part at last, you gaze at him lovingly, a big, cheesy grin growing upon your face.

“I love you too, dummy.”

He stares back at you, mouth agape. He finally processes your words, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Really??” he asks you in awe.

“Really really,” you nod.

He embraces you with explosive enthusiasm, making you yelp as he rolls over on top of you. You giggle as he gives you a series of rapidly-placed kisses all over your face.

“Stop itttt,” you cry through your laughter. “That tickles!”

“Sorry,” he says with a big goofy smile. “I’m just really excited.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you say as you grab his boner that has quickly returned.

He beams at you. “What can I say, you make my dick happy.”

“God, you’re such a dork,” you tell him as you roll your eyes. But you guide his tip to your entrance, shifting your hips to take him inside you.

“Ohh fuuuuck,” he mumbles, his eyes rolling back into his head. He starts slowly sliding his overstimulated cock into you, grunting when his whole length is inside. He rests, unmoving.

“You good?” you ask him.

“Yeah, just trying not to cum immediately,” he says, grinning.

“Soonyoung, you are crazy.”

“Crazy for you,” he says with a kiss.

You spend the rest of the day in bed together, making out, fucking, napping - anything, so long as you don’t have to leave his side. Soonyoung, being Soonyoung, tells you he loves you no fewer than 12 more times.

“So,” he asks as you intertwine your fingers with his, holding hands after he goes down on you for probably the fourth time today. “Does this mean I can call you my girlfriend now?”

You try to answer, but you’re trying to catch your breath after your millionth orgasm.

“Hmmmm?” he pesters.

“Gimme a… fucking second…” you mumble, pushing him away playfully. He gets right back in your face.

“I’m not hearing no…” he says, kissing your nose.

“Oh my god, yes, Soonyoung. The answer is yes.”

He grins from ear to ear, then wraps his entire body around yours, clinging to you like a koala.

“Yayyyy!" he replies as he nuzzles his face into you.

“You know,” he says after a few moments of silence. “I’m pretty hungry…”

“You better mean real food this time,” you tell him sternly. “I don’t think I could handle any more orgasms today.”

“Yes, real food,” he chuckles. “Shall I order delivery from that Thai place you like?”

“Yes please, I’m fucking starving.”

“You got it, baby.”

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theosbaby · 5 months ago

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𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ casually thinking about...

flashing mattheo during an argument

NSFW content ahead, +18

one second, he's shouting some unintelligible shit at you, and the next one, he's almost drooling at the sight of your pretty tits, naked just for him to see. he's falling silent in fucking milliseconds. but god, they're so bloody perfect... how could he not stare at them?

It's not fair, you know he loves them, and you use that knowledge against him. every. fucking. time.

he can't even remember what you were fighting about in the first place, not that he cares anymore, anyways. your full, round tits have him fucking mesmerised, the only thing in his mind at the moment being his feral need to bury his face in them and never come out again, not even for air.

"baby," he would growl, eyes not able to look away from your boobs.

you swear you can see a faint blush appear on his cheeks as you tell him, "i don't wanna fight anymore." you pout cutely at him while you're still tugging your top over your breasts, the piece of clothing it's so small that mattheo wonders how they were fitting inside it in the first place.

"me neither," he replies quietly, starting to walk towards you, not being able to stay away for a second more. "i'm sorry, a'ight?"

"it's okay... 'm sorry too," you also apologise, a little smile tugging at the corner of your plump lips as you watch him leaning forward to wrap his strong arms around you, lifting you up so your tits are right on his face.

and when he finally gets to bury his face in your glorious tits, he's not letting go. he's dragging you to his bed and dropping you in it without pulling an inch away. he lays on top of you, between your spread thighs, lips kissing your soft, pillowy flesh.

"fuck, i love these," he'd mumble against your chest, his hands squeezing your sides tightly. "so fucking perfect."

you chuckle softly at that, which makes your tits bounce slightly, and god, the sight makes him hard in seconds. he hums contently against the supple flesh of your boobs as he teasingly starts sucking and licking your tits everywhere but your nipples, alternating between the two as if he can't decide which one he wants to focus on.

his hands are roaming over your body, groping and caressing your curves as if he's re-learning them. he's squeezing your thighs, your ass, and occasionally, going up to your soft tummy, rough finger pads making goosebumps erupt in your skin.

you don't disturb him, letting him play with your boobs as he pleases while you run your slender fingers through his unruly curly hair. sometimes, you caress his face tenderly, watching with heavy lidded eyes while he worships your body. you find it cute, how much he loves your breasts. he's always wanting to touch them, lick them, kiss them... and it fucking turns you on so much, because you're so sensitive there.

you moan when finally settles on one nipple, sucking on it hard while his hand kneads the other breast. he'd push both boobs together, his mouth dropping the already hard peak he was sucking on to lick at the other. his hips are bucking against you the whole time, grinding his hard on against your drenched core.

he's definitely leaving marks, which you complain about, but he just looks up at you, pupils blown, and says, "they're mine, aren't they? i'll mark 'em if i want to."

after that, he slips his hand inside your shorts and panties, finding you completely soaked for him and that fact makes him groan as he returns to suck on your perky, reddened nipples. his fingers rub your swollen, little clit, making you whimper and squirm beneath him, but he uses his free hand to grab you and keep you still while he stuffs you full of his fingers, burying them knuckles deep. he's making you cum in minutes, orgasm so good that feels like fireworks exploding inside your tummy.

and then, once he's satisfied you, he rips both of your clothes off and makes you ride him. he'd be such a mess beneath you as he watches you jump on top of him, little whimpers escaping his lips against his will. the sight of your perfect tits bouncing right on his face while your tight little pussy squeezes his cock makes him cum so fucking fast that he's almost embarrassed... almost.

more.

#♡ ;; theosbaby #ꪆৎ casually thinking about...#harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo smut #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle scenarios #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x reader #slytherin smut #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys smut

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parfaitblogs · 4 months ago

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fresh out the slammer ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid comes home from prison, and needs to fulfil everything he has missed about you.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut & comfort (18+ mdni) tags: post prison!reid. soft dom!spencer. teeth might rot i was cringing during some of this. established relationship. the briefest of breast play because what do i hate? the word nipple! fingering. p in v. no protection is mentioned but imagine what you will. casual nudity afterwards. spencer's got bruises from prison. i lowkey forgot about his thigh wound until the very end. word count: 5.7k a/n: there's a completely different version of me in a world where i didn't write this. i hope she's doing well. i feel like i've been reborn. this is stupidly long LOL my apologies. pleaseee tell me if you liked this! or if you didn't! i love feedback! here's my monthly smut fic see you all in october!

Three months wasn't a long time, in the grand scheme of things. A quarter of a year usually went by too quickly for anybody's liking, the year sprinting through seasons until all twelve months were complete, and you were repeating it all over again. Usually. Three months without Spencer Reid, however, went by achingly slowly. And you hadn't originally considered just how agonising they could be.

Each day was another painful mirror of the last, waking up and going to bed with the same sense of dread in your stomach, oftentimes swallowing you whole and leaving you unable to do just about anything at all.

Living life without Spencer Reid was hard.

You saw him — of course you did. Despite his original efforts to keep you off the approved visitors list, Penelope Garcia had seen one glimpse of your heart shattered expression upon being told, and marched her way to the prison to slap sense into him. You weren't sure if that was metaphoric or not.

However, seeing him once every other week and living with him were two very different situations. You hadn't realised just how much you had depended on him always being there when you woke up in the morning until you were waking up to cold bed sheets and a pillow clutched petulantly to your chest in hopes of recreating the warmth only Spencer could provide.

And then he was free.

From prison, that is. You hadn't heard it all — information about his time in prison had been kept from you in an attempt to protect your own peace of mind. But you knew from at least the bruises he was always sporting no matter when you went to visit him, that something awful had happened to him in there, and his own brain would keep him imprisoned for as long as it wished.

But he was free.

And he was here, and you were staring up at his face littered with unkempt facial hair and a head of untreated curls, and regardless of everything horrific he had endured brewing behind his eyes, he was staring at you with the same softness he had before any of this happened.

Despite the beginning of a protest when you wrapped your arms around his torso, you hugged him, and he hugged you, and even the faintest smell of grime and blood couldn't stop you from gripping onto him with so much force you thought your knuckles would break.

"You're real," you whispered into his chest, muffled by it, and it shook beneath your face as he laughed, quietly. Beautifully.

"I am," he answered, and you could feel him crushing his own facial features into the top of your head, no doubt inhaling your shampoo. "You're real."

"Yes," you confirmed with a nod.

Maybe hours passed, perhaps only minutes. Whichever it was, you were still reluctant to pull away from him until he did, your face stained with tear streaks you don't remember shedding, his own eyes glassy as your gazes met.

"You don't want to talk about it, do you?" you asked him, walking backwards as you led him out of the doorway you two had been finding solace in, and further into the apartment space you were ecstatic to share together again.

"Not particularly," he answered, strides catching up to you and encasing your waist between his hands, tugging your body closer to his own. "Is that okay?"

"As long as you promise not to keep it in," you replied, teeth chewing into your lower lip in a contemplative habit.

"I have counselling at work," he said, and you nodded, your facial features softening only a little — you knew him well enough to know he wouldn't enjoy said counselling sessions. Breath tickled your lips as he leaned in a little closer, inciting heat onto your cheeks. "Any other questions?"

"No," you replied, your own lips twitching in amusement. "That's it. Why?"

"Because I haven't kissed you in three months," he murmured, "and I want to."

"Maybe," you said with a hum, and he said your name chidingly, eliciting a laugh from you. "Yeah. Okay."

To be honest, you had spent a few too many nights allowing your thoughts to wander and end up dreaming about what it would be like to kiss him again. Whether or not either of you would have the patience to be gentle and kind to one another. In those nights, you had decided you would be. Your heart cracking every time you thought of Spencer alone in a concrete cell that it left you with a gaping hole in your chest. All you really wanted was to hold him and remind him how adored he was.

Right now, you learned you wouldn't be.

There was a tenderness in the way his hands found your cheeks to cup, and there was a softness in his fingertips against your skin. Yet, everything he kissed with was anything but. Feverish and quick, swallowing you whole and inspiring a spark in your chest that resulted in you kissing back just as hungry.

Just when you thought there was nothing left to trigger within him, a squeak left your lips as the result of him tugging you impossibly closer, and he was beginning to walk you backwards, even further into the apartment, his kiss growing all consuming.

"Spencer," you said, breathlessly, jerking your head back, staring at him, waiting for him to realise you weren't returning your lips to his, and his eyes opened.

"What?" he asked, almost irritatedly. When he watched the slight flicker of hurt flash on your face at the tone, his own expression became gentler. "I'm sorry. Is something wrong?"

Immediately, you shook your head. "No. I just wanted to check how far you wanted to go," your hands travelled up to his hair, fingers scratching gently against his scalp. "I know there's a lot going on up here."

"Actually, right now it's just you," he said, tilting a head to the side to lean into one of your palms. "It's mostly you all the time. But right now you're consuming it."

"I make such an impact on your life," you quipped.

"I know you're teasing, but you do," he replied, fingers tracing up and down either side of your jawline, eyes searching each small detail on your face he had no doubt already memorised. "I survived in there for you."

"Oh."

Probably not the most eloquent response for the things he had just confessed, but truly your brain had scrambled within an instant, and you weren't sure what to say.

"Sorry," he said, hands stilling on your face. "To answer your question, I don't know. I really missed you."

"I know," you said when a gaping silence followed his words. "We don't have to."

"I think I want to."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "You can't think, Spence. You've gotta know."

"I've definitely said that to you before," he chided, thinking for a moment, before, "yes. I did. First time we had sex."

"Sue me for repeating important sexual advice to you, Spencer Reid," you huffed. He laughed.

"No, I mean, I do. Want to," he finally replied. "I'm really scared of hurting you."

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No."

"Then you won't," you reassured him, despite knowing whatever doubt he had in himself would not be resolved just like that, and it'll probably eat at his mind for a long while. "And even if you do, I won't be upset with you." When his face scrunched and his expression mirrored judgement, you stammered to clarify. "Not in a kinky way. Don't look at me like that, Spencer. Stop it. I just meant I'll understand. And I won't be mad."

"Didn't take you to be into masochism," he mumbled, and you groaned at his selective hearing, dropping your forehead to his shoulder, that shook with his laughter. "Kidding, honey. I know what you mean."

"Not funny."

"It was a little," he countered, a hand reaching up to entangle within your hair to pull your head back, gently, so he could look at you again.

"Hi," you said when your eyes locked once more.

"Hello," he answered, his lips pulling into a smile. "I'd like to kiss you again."

"You've used up your kiss for the day, actually," you replied, sweetly beaming up at him.

"Quiet," he shot back, leaning forwards and allowing his lips to brush hesitantly against yours, eyes searching your own with an added hint of desperation. "Please?"

You pretended to think for a moment too long, because he was already mumbling something that sounded a little like 'brat', and pressed his mouth to yours once more.

You couldn't complain.

It was the same intensity as earlier, and yet there was something in it that differentiated the homesickness of the kiss from then, and the desperation now. Large hands — that you would probably allow to encase you whole — pathetically held your face lightly, hips knocking with yours as he walked you backwards and up against the back of the couch.

"Spence," you whimpered embarrassingly, hands clawing at the sleeves of his suit jacket, trialling and failing at tugging it off his body.

"I got you, sweet girl," he mumbled against your lips, not breaking the kiss for even a second as he helped you, shrugging the jacket off and allowing it to fall to the floor — something he will certainly chastise himself for later.

"Bedroom," you said, in between heavy breaths and feverish kisses. A request he was more than happy to comply to, for he had nodded, and you were instantaneously tugging on one of his hands in the direction of the room, his eyes fixated on your body as he trailed behind.

"Missed you so much," he murmured as he tugged you back towards him the second he had kicked the door shut, lips finding the corner of your mouth, then your jawline, then your neck, as he kissed down you.

"So you've said," you breathed out, tilting your head to the side as he gently nipped at the skin.

"Do you get off on being mean to me?" he chided, lifting his head to look at you again, and your heart stuttered.

"No. Just that dominance act that it brings out," you murmured, attempting to keep the mood light. Successfully so, for air huffed out of his nose as his lips twitched, fingers that had dropped to your waist squeezing it gently. In unresolved doubt, you added, "I missed you too. Don't worry."

"I'm not," he replied, and the weight lifted off your shoulders. "Lie down."

"So demanding," you teased, though his tone was anything but firm.

You were met with an unimpressed look, and you merely grinned back as you climbed onto the bed, sitting cross legged atop it, staring up at him expectingly.

Instead of moving over you like you had expected, he crouched at the foot of the bed, holding his hands out on the mattress in front of you. Needing no more than the simple gesture, you untangled your legs and stretched them out in front of you, and he tugged you down towards the end of the bed, breath hitting the skin of your thighs deliciously.

"I'm supposed to be making you feel good," you argued when his fingers trailed up the sides of your legs, finding the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

"Why?" he questioned, halting his movements as he searched your face.

"Because you're the one who just got out of prison," his face scrunched at the verbal reminder. "Sorry. But... yeah. I have thought about making you come the day you got home like daily."

"Oh have you?" his eyebrows shot up, and it was then that your brain caught up to your running mouth, and your cheeks heated up.

"Nope. Forget I said anything."

"No," he pushed himself up from the floor, moving his body over yours on the bed, successfully forcing you to lie back. "Tell me those thoughts."

"Spencer," you moaned, shaking your head as you buried your face into your hands, that he was a little too quick to catch and pry away.

"I'm not going to judge you," he said, amused. "In fact, I aspire to know every single thought there is up in that pretty head of yours. Especially the ones about me. Please tell me."

"I just thought about making you come. There's nothing more exciting to it."

"Yes, but how?"

"My mouth, I guess," you mumbled, voice going impossibly quiet. "I don't know."

"You're acting like you have never given me oral," he said, catching your gaze within milliseconds of you averting it, thumb and forefinger straightening your head again.

"Nobody says oral, Spencer. Say head," your own face now scrunched up.

"Lots of people say oral," he defended.

"Yeah, old people. We are not old people."

"Fine, you're acting like you have never given me head."

Despite it being a jab at him to take the heat off of you, the phrase coming out from his lips sounded exceptionally vulgar for what it was, and it only resulted in your stomach flipping.

Finally, you regained some control over your own thoughts, and you found it in you to reply. "That's what I want to do. Because I want to make you feel good."

"You underestimate how much I gain from making you feel good," he countered, fingers lazily caressing the skin of your jaw as his eyes studied your face with an intensity that had your stomach flipping.

"It cannot be as good as an orgasm," you huffed, stubbornly so.

He nipped at your nose. "It is."

"Can we compromise?"

"So you don't want me to give you oral?" his eyebrows rose.

In every other situation, you would not be fighting him on this. In fact, he would probably have already gotten his foreplay of teasing and teetering you on the edge out of the way by now, and you'd be well and truly content. However, the forefront of your mind was still plagued by how little time Spencer had to take care of himself, and the last thing you needed him to be was at your service. Despite his protests.

"Head," you corrected. "And no."

He searched for remnants of a lie for a few beats longer, before he nodded his head, giving in. "What's your compromise, honey?"

"I don't think there's a sexy way to say to just put it in me," you said, and his lips curled up into an amused smile, followed by a huff of laughter.

"No, I don't think there is," he agreed. "I do think anything you say can be sexy, though."

You pulled a face, and you shook your head. "No. Don't say that ever again either."

"I can't compliment you, I can't give you ora—head," he rattled off. "Is there anything good I get out of this?"

"You get to fuck me?" you batted your eyelashes up at him.

"Such vulgar language," he chastised, ducking his head when a hand of yours rose to swat him.

Despite himself, his head had dropped to the crook of your neck, and he had begun placing feather like kisses along the skin that distracted you just enough to drop your hand back to the mattress beneath you.

Any other day, and you'd probably still be bickering with him until the minute he made you come. However, three months without even the faintest of touches from him left you overwhelmed with everything he did to you, and so the gentle kisses trailing down to the collar of your shirt were enough to destroy any coherent thoughts you could have.

Cautiously, and with a touch so delicate, Spencer lifted your — his — shirt up your abdomen, fingertips leaving behind the warmest of trails as they skimmed along your skin. One quiet whine from you was all it took for him to hurry his teasing along, and soon enough your shirt was discarded.

A quiet, sharp inhale of air was the other sound aside from your quickened breathing, and you felt tears sting your vision as another kiss was placed just below your now exposed collarbone.

The time without you seemed to weigh nothing in his mind as he took every inch of you in separately, lips mapping out your body like it was the first time all over again, though still knowing exactly when to pause and pay attention to for the sweetest of sounds to be ripped from your throat.

He liked to hear you.

Fingers found your waist as his lips kissed down your sternum, then back up and over until they reached your nipple. He spent time on each breast, ignoring your impatient whining as he neglected the rest of you for a few minutes too long (in your opinion).

"Spencer," you scolded, and it was all it took for him to accept you were not in the mood to wait, and for him to decide he wasn't either.

"Sorry, honey," he replied, voice impossibly soft as he returned his lips to your face, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth as his fingers found your shorts again. "Can I take these off?"

"I think we're incredibly out of balance," you replied. And though there wasn't really anything wrong with the sentence — you had certainly said it before — he still pulled back, an unrecognisable grey clouding his eyes. "What?"

"I want to keep my shirt on," was his response, the words inciting confusion to your face.

"What? Why?"

"Do I need a reason?"

You wanted to scream that yes, he did. But did he? Wordlessly, you shook your head, but it didn't help the pang of worry in your chest.

"Unless there's something like an embarrassing tattoo, I'm not going to judge you," you decided to say instead. "Did you get an embarrassing tattoo in prison?"

"No," he shook his head, and you were comforted by the amusement in his tone. "I didn't have the best time in prison."

"I know," you replied.

"And I wasn't very liked. By the men in there."

You knew that too, to an extent. You knew the bruises on his face weren't self inflicted. "You're liked by me."

"I know, sweet girl," a heart shatteringly sad smile stretched across his face as a hand lifted to your cheek. "It just isn't very pretty. And I don't want you to worry."

Well, now you were. Regardless, you nodded your head, turning your head to the side so you could kiss the palm of the hand on your face. "I won't worry, then."

"I want to keep my shirt on. Can that please be okay with you?"

Silently, and after a debate inside your brain, you nodded your head. Gratefully, he pecked your lips once more, before his focus shifted back to you and your body.

"Shorts. Can I take them off?" he asked, again.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

His fingers collected the fabric of your shorts' waistband, and gently pulled them down your legs, cool air washing over you despite the final leftover article of clothing on your body. You shivered, and you could hear him mumbling nearly incoherent apologies as he kissed your stomach.

"These too?" he then asked, eyes flickering between your face for confirmation, and the pair of underwear you still had residing on your body. You nodded your head, and he pulled them down too.

You do not remember a time ever fearing being naked beneath Spencer Reid's gaze, and that did not change even now, as an arguably different man drank in your entire body, the love he had for you not having wavered despite the passing of time.

And you certainly did not fear the way one of his hands slid up your leg, seemingly soothingly, until it teetered on the edge of too far up the limb to be innocent, and he was intensely watching your face for every reaction you could possibly make.

Achingly gently, his middle finger ran up the centre, collecting arousal you hadn't realised was there and knuckle gently bumping your clit, eliciting a quiet mewl from you. You watched him smile at the sound, dragging his finger back down, gathering more of your arousal until he was pushing the finger in.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling oh so familiar, and yet seemingly foreign all at once. Too long, you decided then. Three months is too long.

Leaning back down, his lips brushed your jawline, the otherwise odd sensation of there being something — someone — inside of you balancing out with the pleasure that came from the comfort of it being him. And of course the delicate circles his thumb had begun to draw on your clit.

"Did you do this while I was in prison?" he asked you, lips moving against your skin.

"Touch myself?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah," you said, voice breathless. "Was never good, though."

"No?" he asked, curling his finger inside of you and tugging a louder moan from your throat. "Why not?"

"Just never felt as nice. Not like you."

"Oh. I'm sorry, angel," he murmured, pulling his lips away so he could look at you again. Though, your eyes were still planted shut. "I'll make up for it then, yeah?"

You feverishly nodded your head, and he laughed. Fulfilling his promise, he sped up the motions of his finger and thumb, your hands grabbing ahold of fistfuls of the sheets, in hopes that it will provide some comfort from the overwhelming feeling of Spencer touching you again.

"Can I add another finger?" he asked, and though slightly hesitant, you nodded your head.

He waited a beat longer before fulfilling your request, and there was something obscene about how easily another finger entered you. Though, Spencer thought it was pretty, and your back arching was pretty, and yes, he had missed this and he had missed you and he was biting his tongue from telling you that all over again.

"Spencer," a delicately breathy whine left your lips when the heel of his palm collided with your clit — thumb long forgotten once he had gotten distracted with thrusting fingers in and out of you.

"Hm?"

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, the kindest smile on his face reminding you just how much he adored you, and your heart sporadically beat in your chest. When you didn't say anything else, he quickened his ministrations, eliciting more whines and moans.

"Is two orgasms too much for tonight?" he asked you, the question seemingly innocent regardless of both it's undertones, and what he was currently doing to you.

In hindsight you should've probably said yes. It most certainly would've hurried things along to something he would enjoy as much as you. However, if Spencer Reid fingering you was a religion, you were an eternally loyal follower, and you would do anything to keep him there for as long as you could.

So you shook your head, murmuring a quiet, "No. I can do two," and allowing him to fasten his fingers once more.

Fingers found and massaged that spot inside of you he had probably engrained into his brain, and he was leaning down to swallow the loud moan that followed from the feeling. Practiced motions tore the same sounds from your throat as he repeatedly brushed up against it, until your eyes were forced to squeeze shut once more, and hands that were once seeking solace in the sheets, found his wrist and wrapped around it.

"I can't move if you're going to keep my arm locked up, angel," he said when your nails dug into his wrist, lips smiling against your skin.

A few short jerks of his hand convinced you to let go of the death grip you had on him, instead returning them to the mattress.

Then he was doing that motion again, and again, and you were silently praying he would never stop. Although, if your moans were any indication to where you were at — and they were — Spencer wouldn't.

Your hips bucking told him more than he needed to know, and the absence of his body above you when he lay down on the bed next to you was long forgotten when a splayed hand on your abdomen pushed you back down into the mattress, your heart stuttering at the feeling.

Gentle whines of his name, and a repeated mantra of 'please, please, please' was the only thing your otherwise dismantled brain could come up with, and Spencer was relishing in the knowledge that he was doing this to you. And though it is something he knows he's done before, it had been far too long since and the reminder was always welcome.

"I know, sweet girl," he said against you when your eyes came open and searched his desperately, walls fluttering around his fingers indicating just how close you were.

"Please don't stop."

"I won't," he confirmed, punctuating the promise with his thumb returning to your clit. He had your best interest in mind — you knew that. He now wouldn't stop even if you begged him to.

Overwhelming seemed too insignificant of a word to describe what you felt like when you came, nerve endings all over your body sparking, instead of just the ones he was stimulating.

His thumb rubbing circles and his fingers thrusting in and out of you didn't falter until your shaking body had stilled and your strings of moans had diminished, slowly coming to a stop and leaving your body — seemingly — as fast as they had entered.

The content smile on your face was interrupted with Spencer's hand lifting to your lips, and instinctively you parted them, already knowing exactly what he was after.

His middle and ring fingers entered your mouth, and your face scrunched up despite yourself as you tasted yourself on them. He laughed at that — of course he did — and pulled them out soon after.

"You do that every time," he murmured, hair tickling your skin as he placed open mouthed kisses over your shoulder, up towards your neck.

"It tastes weird," you argued, and his teeth nipping your skin told you he disagreed. Though, he wasn't in the mood to argue, for he didn't say anything else on the matter.

"Still got it in you for one more?" he asked you, pulling his head back so he could see you once again.

"Yes."

"Good."

Your eyes watched him even as he rolled back to take his pants off, and the awkward smile he gave you provided the inkling of comfort that there was still the man from three months prior in there.

"I really missed you, you know?" This time it was you saying it, piercing the air as his hand came down between your thighs to part them. The head of his cock nudged against you, brushing delicately through your folds and eliciting a quiet whimper from your lips.

"I know," he answered, pressing kisses on your shoulder once more. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah. I'm fine," you confirmed with a nod, confusion crossing your features all up until you learned why he was asking.

A broken moan, choked and caught in your throat, left you when he painstakingly slowly pushed inside of you. There's not a lot going on inside your mind when he stops, your entire body aflame and equally desperate for more, as you were for him to take a moment here.

"I love you," he breathed out, the words hurried and encouraging your heart to speed up, and your mind to melt even more.

"I love you too," you said back, voice just as quiet, gently nudging hips ushering for him to move.

"Impatient girl," he muttered, but you smiled nonetheless because he did (move).

His thrusts were slow, and gentle, but you never truly minded how much time he took with you once you two were here. Even more so now, for you were on the same page as him, and you wanted to savour every single moment of this down to the second.

A whimper left your lips, followed closely by the desperate whisper of his name, and lips that were still resting against your shoulder smiled.

"I thought about this a lot," he said to you, his hand that was holding your thighs slightly open sliding up to find your clit. "I definitely shouldn't have."

"Why?" You knew why, but the thought of hearing him answer it aloud excited you a little.

Unfortunately, he knew you better than that. "Don't play coy. You know why, honey."

"You're cruel," you huffed, and he laughed, rolling his hips to meet yours, earning another moan. "Maybe I don't."

"Use that wonderful imagination of yours, then," he answered, rubbing your clit at the same time as he moved his hips once more, effortlessly rendering you unable to respond to him again.

A teenage boy probably could've lasted longer than the both of you, but you decided to blame it all on your already sensitive nerves from a prior orgasm, and the fact that Spencer Reid had not had you like this for over 2190 hours (not that he was counting).

Whimpers escaped your throat as he kept his hips thrusting into you at an achingly slow pace, while his fingers working on your clit did anything but. It was an aching juxtaposition that left you reeling for more, and Spencer was now the one shutting his eyes so he could hold onto some semblance of composure.

"Spencer," you pleaded, and it was a quiet moan from behind you that told you he was exactly where you were.

"I know, honey," he replied, the desperation in his voice jumpstarting your heart. "Need to come, yeah?"

"Mmhm," you nodded your head quickly, breathlessly moaning. "Please."

"You're going to. Don't worry. Don't need to beg, sweet girl."

Commingled moans and obscenely wet noises filled the air, and your hips stuttered as your stomach twisted into knots.

Chanting his name like a prayer, you meet him wherever your two souls go in that moment, and it's a shuddering feeling as you come at the same time as him. For the first time in forever.

His hand drops back to your thigh and he massages the muscles there gently, willing himself to stop before he crossed the line of overstimulation — not that you think you'd complain about that.

There was an emptiness when he pulled out, but then he was kissing you again to make up for it, and you were smiling against his lips as you kissed him back. This time, without the fever.

"How're you feeling?" he asked you, quietly.

"Happy," you answered, forcing your heavy eyelids open when he pulled back. "How are you feeling?"

"Also happy," he agreed, and your heart soared.

"Good."

"You need to go pee," he said, placing another kiss on your cheek, before he leaned his body away entirely.

"Help?"

Arguably, you could do it yourself. Your limbs were tired, yes, and your mind was melting, but you were coherent enough to brave it alone.

Thankfully, you didn't have to.

He carried you to the bathroom, running the bath water after you had silently begged him for it with your eyes (looking between him and the empty bath with wide eyes and a jutted lip worked wonders), and leaving you to pee.

"Are you getting in with me?" you asked him as wobbly legs akin to a fawn carried you over to the now full and steaming bathtub.

"Do you want me to?"

Hesitantly, you nodded your head, fidgeting with your fingers in front of you. "But you'd have to take your shirt off. So you don't have to."

He studied your face for a moment longer, before he nodded, and fingers expertly worked at unbuttoning down the shirt.

"I'm okay now. That's the important thing you have to remember, okay?" his words provided little comfort, but you nodded your head regardless.

You had a suspicion already of what sight you were going to be met with, but it didn't stop the guilt settling into your chest when the shirt fell to the floor anyways.

"Spence," you murmured, taking a hesitant step forwards, heart falling to your stomach.

Bruises littered the skin, some fresh and still purple, others nearly healed and yellowing. But there were so many, and it was then that you were swallowing the rest of him in with your eyes, catching the bandage on his thigh.

"What is that?" you nodded towards the covered wound, and when your eyes returned to his face again, he was staring at you with an unreadable expression.

"A lot happened," he answered, quietly, before repeating, "I'm okay now."

You nodded your head, tears stinging your vision for nothing more than your ridiculous amount of empathy. "Can you tell me about it?"

"I will," he promised. "Eventually. Just not now, okay? I haven't processed it all yet."

"Okay," you replied, and his heart shattered at the sight of a tear slipping down your face.

"Hey," he took ahold of your hand and tugged you closer to him, fingers running through your hair and resting at the base of your scalp. "I promise, honey. I'm not going to disintegrate from a few bruises."

"It isn't just a few," you answered, voice wavering. "There's so many."

"You have a heart too big for your chest," he decided to say instead, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. "Most of them don't even hurt now. Please believe me when I say I'm okay."

"I'm trying," your voice is thick with a sob caught in your throat. "I think I'm just really tired."

"Yeah," he crooned, agreeing. "Your body's released a lot of prolactin, which encourages sleep. Alongside the endorphins and dopamine that you're crashing from upon seeing this."

Wordlessly, you nodded your head, and he kissed the tip of your nose in an attempt to comfort.

"Bath, then we can sleep, and we can talk more in the morning," he listed off, and you merely nodded your head once more, sniffling and wiping your eyes.

"Okay."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year ago

Note

so! you mentioned in the 'p0rn preferences' post that Gaz is not the one who jerks off the most in the 141, and I humbly ask you, who would that be?

I don't mean this as a request, just a little discussion, cause I feel like Soap would just be going at it at any chance possible, like a bunny. he probably doesn't care much if someone hears it, but that's just me thinking too much into it.

Who Jerks off the Most in the 141 + König

Warnings: 18+, Heavy Mentions of Masturbation, Male Masturbation, Implied Reader in Individual Headcanons, Accidental and Implied Voyeurism, Edging, Brief Mention of Injury, Men Who Moan <3, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except 'You'.

A/N: As per Anon's question (which I just had to turn into a post of its own) I present to you the list of the 141 members (and König) who jerk off from the most to least <3

Soap

I have to agree with you here, Anon - Johnny is most definitely the king of self love when it comes to the 141.

He doesn't much care where he is or who he's with; when he has to satisfy his needs, he'll do so.

Though, he'll spare whoever's with him the sight of watching him throwing his head back, trying to stifle his moans behind gritted teeth whilst the wet sound of his hand slipping up and down the length of his shaft fill the room.

Unless they want to.

For one reason or another, he's nigh-insatiable when it comes to his libido, and the fact that his stamina affords him the luxury of beating himself off until his cum is practically translucent doesn't help.

The slightest thing can set him off.

Someone brushing past him ? Hard.

Someone stroking his ego a little too enthusiastically ? Bricked up.

He sees something that's shaped to be a little too curvy or phallic ? Stiff as a pole.

He remembers something mildly suggestive you did three years ago in that restaurant ? He's going to the Horny Realm.

Yes, his teammates have complained about his incessant moaning-come-grunting-come-whimpering through all hours of the night, his voice contorting through a spectrum of desperation and Johnny always ending up spent and overstimulated by the time the sun comes up.

And then he's ready to do it all again the second night touches the horizon line, giving his teammates a knowing smile when he walks into the room sporting nothing else save for a pair of boxers and a monster that looks to be trying to tear itself free from them.

Gaz

Dude's young. Of course he's throttling that rooster on a nigh-daily basis.

The only reason he's not at it as much as Soap is because he likes to believe he still has a few threads of his self-restraint intact.

He doesn't.

Especially when it comes to you (regardless of whether you're dating yet or not).

But he doesn't need to know that.

Honestly, the only thing that separates him from Johnny's unmatched libido is the fact that it takes a little more than the slightest provocation to get Gaz going.

Albeit, that line is a thin one.

If he so much as accidentally sees something explicit for upwards of three seconds, he's hard.

The only advantage of his need for satisfaction is the speed with which he can achieve it.

He and Johnny actually timed each other once to see who could get off the fastest.

Gaz won. Though, only by a slim margin.

Needless to say, that made for a rather interesting conversation with the Captain when he walked in on two of his best soldiers sat panting on the edge of their cots, an almost-translucent spray spattered across their stomachs, eyes half-lidded and hazy.

Ghost

The third-in-line for the Throttle Throne is none other than our beloved Ghost.

Unlike Johnny and Gaz, Ghost is more likely to leave himself alone at the first sign of trouble, toughing it out until he can will his mind to less lustful pastimes.

He won't make his jacking off known to anyone, either, often doing it in the shower where the water beats down so harshly that no sound can be heard for the water's fall.

That, and he's a master at keeping his voice low, no matter the circumstances.

More often than not, Simon makes quick work of jerking off purely because it’s a means to an end. However, if it’s you he’s thinking of, he’s much more likely to take his time — to immerse himself in the fantasy of your body around his, taking him so well in one capacity or another. Fucking yourself dumb on his cock.

During these times, he’s thorough — much more likely to edge himself, to throw his head back and growl between gritted teeth, to savour the sensation coiling in his stomach, his balls growing tight.

Otherwise, he’ll stroke one out as quickly as he can, getting back to business as usual.

And to look at him, on the surface, you'd never know that he just spent the last three minutes rubbing one out in the bathroom (yes, he is also a contender for first place in the 'Who Can Jack Off The Quickest Competition', but he'll never allow Johnny or Gaz the luxury of witnessing his unprecedented skill; that's for your eyes only).

Until he corners you, breathing down your neck, scolding you for tempting him - a man whose restraint lies only in his ability to hold off from reducing you to an exponential reflection of his prior state, breathless and covered in fluids.

König

Have you seen the size of that thing ? Man should be in the olympics for being able to throw that weight around.

Similarly to Ghost, König only gets himself off when it's absolutely necessary.

Only if he doesn't have you lying around to help him, of course.

Though, he lets himself have a bit of fun with it. Especially if it's been a tough day.

He's vocal, too. Though he tries not to be.

He just can't help it. Days' - maybe even weeks' - worth of unspent adrenaline and semen is hardly any way for a soldier like König to go about his life. So, he expels it in the privacy of quite literally any isolated space he can find.

König is not an adventurous spirit by any means when it comes to self pleasure, but when needs must, he's willing to shoulder the weight of the prospect that someone on his team could walk in at any second and catch him spraying his stomach or the wall white with, let's face it, thick ropes of cum.

Hong-Jin's actually caught him doing that before now.

That's actually how the two became friends: Horangi heard König grunting in the store cupboard and, knowing how stubborn his Colonel was with letting others know when he was injured, sought him out. Wanted to offer his help.

Catching Colonel König in the act of throwing his head back whilst growling the name '(Y/N)' into the darkest corner of the room was, suffice it to say, not what Horangi had been expecting.

Price

You just know he's cool with it. And by 'cool', I mean incredibly intentional, controlled, and not ravenous in the ways our other favourite military princesses are.

Sure, Price has gotten hard on the job a few times.

Who hasn't ?

But thanks to his level head, unwavering devotion to his work, and absolute refusal to acknowledge that he did, in fact, get a little bit of a chub during a shoot-out, he's managed to gain control over every facet of his body.

Until he comes home to you, of course.

Until he's able to loom over you like an omen and run his hands down your sides, stopping at your hips and pressing kisses that become more open-mouthed the further down the side of your neck he dips.

Pressing his hips into yours. Something demands your attention.

There have been very few occasions where a cold shower wasn't a quick enough fix for him.

When the days of having you milk him are too far out of sight, he's had to suffice with his own hands before now. Had to imagine - remember - what yours felt like in his place, your lips curled up as he gripped the chair arms, breathless as he moaned into the warm tones of your shared apartment.

But don't worry ! He'll be sure to catch you up on everything you've missed while he's been away once he returns.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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lilithslittleworld · 6 months ago

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New To This

A/N: I made a poll a few weeks ago about wanting to write a new smut with several different scenarios/characters with a winner of "Jacob Black x Reader"!

I initially wanted to write a really steamy, sexy scene but it ended up evolving into a steamy but also loving/fluffy sex scene! *i feel like this is werewolf Jacob meets cute, pre-wolf Jacob* I hope you all enjoy ;)

(PS: Nessie does not and will not exist in this fanfic, aka you and Jacob will live happily ever after. Also both of you are 18 or above ).

Summary: A few weeks after Bella and Edward's wedding, Jacob teaches you how to cliff dive. You're sure you could teach him a few things too...

The wind howled viciously, sending your hair flying in every direction and shivers that racked your body. You stepped closer to the cliff's edge, peering slightly over to catch a glimpse of the angry waves below.

Jacob stood behind you, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he scowled at you. "This is a terrible idea," Jacob huffed, his dark eyebrows pinching in worry.

Jacob never wore shirts, or at least that's what it seemed like. "It was your idea," you reminded him. Jacob glared at you in response but took a step forward.

"You're really going to do this, aren't you?" he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. It was a silly question to ask, since you both knew the answer.

"You better believe it," you grinned back at him. You pulled off your thick coat, leaving it folded on a rock beside Jacob's truck. You two would have to come back up for both sooner or later and the idea of being weighed down by a water-soaked winter coat didn't sound ideal. Your boots came off as well, for good measure.

The cold made your hands sting, turning your knuckles an angry red as you stood in your thin, long sleeved shirt, jeans, and socks. Jacob on the other hand, stood comfortably, despite lacking a shirt and in shorts.

"H-how are you not freezing?" you asked incredulously, your teeth chattering, "It's the middle of December!"

"I'm just a little hotter than most," Jacob winked at you, holding out a hand. "Ready whenever you are."

You rolled your eyes at him but brought your hand to his. You couldn't help but notice how much bigger they were, most of Jacob was anyway. They were also exceptionally warm just as you had expected. Maybe he did run warmer than the rest of people...

"Okay," you breathed, as Jacob guided you both to the cliff's edge, the waters below you lapped furiously at the rocky coast, "On the count of three. One, two, th-"

And suddenly you were falling. You screamed at Jacob for not having respected the countdown but it was useless, the fall was short and the wind howled even louder as you plummeted into the cold, dark water.

Your body sank like a stone, the weight pulling you down deeper into the frigid water. You thrashed your arms, desperate to make it to the surface once again. Thousands of little ice-like knives sank into your skin with every movement. You wondered how Jacob was handling the cold. But there were more important things to think about now. You were running out of air.

Now only a few feet from the surface, you felt a strong arm pulling you up towards it at an incredible speed. Your head broke through the surface, your mouth opening automatically to gasp the free air greedily. As your panic started to ebb, your sight began to unblur slowly, taking in your surroundings and the breathless boy before you.

"Y/N!" Jacob gasped, partially due to the little stunt he'd pulled with the jump, having swam around to find you, and worry. "Can you hear me?"

You nodded quickly, taking into account how clogged your ears were. "I'm good," you croaked, followed by a tamer fit of coughing.

Jacob wrapped a protective arm around you, dragging you along with him as his legs and free arm paddled you both towards the shore. You protested at first until it became clear that you were unable to swim that distance and that Jacob would never let you go.

"That was fun," you noted cheerfully, as the ocean floor below you began to rise enough for Jacob to stand. It would take you a little longer to reach.

"Yeah, well it's never happening again," he scoffed, wading out of the shallow water, "You could've died." You watched as little water droplets dripped from his short hair down his toned back and shoulders, secretly hoping swimming with him would happen again soon.

It was no secret that you were attracted to Jacob. Besides, he rarely hid the fact that he was interested in you as well. You two had met at Bella Swan's wedding. It wasn't a great introduction, to say the least, but it eventually blossomed into whatever this was. Jacob was always honest about what he felt but he had never made any grandiose confessions or even really specified what you were to him, apart from a girl he liked. He was careful around you.

Jacob's voice interrupted your thoughts and so did the cold. "You're going to freeze to death if you stay in there," he called out, a hint of superiority in his voice.

"Stupid fireboy," you muttered under your breath, as you dragged your nearly numb legs forward. He was right. Your fingers had started to turn blue and you became aware of how little of your body you could feel.

"What was that?" he grinned, amused at your suddenly cranky mood.

"Oh, I know you heard me," you hissed, swatting his arms away as he tried to pull you into them. "Stupid supersonic hearing."

Jacob laughed, clearly still thrilled. "Come here," he said, scooping you into his arms. You were so grateful for the warmth that radiated from his skin that you said nothing as he carried you across the woods.

"I could teach you thing too, you know," you said sullenly, watching the little beach disappear from your sight.

"I'm sure you could," he replied, "But no one's teaching anyone anything until you're out of these wet clothes and showered."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Was he intending to shower with you? You had never done more than makeout with this boy but the idea of him in a shower with you sent your pulse overboard.

Neither of you said anything else until Jacob's house. You had never really been inside before. Any ideas you had of it were based on the little you had been able to see when you peeked through the front door, waiting for Jacob in other occasions. Now, you stepped through the doorframe, taking in the small but cozy house.

Jacob walked you towards a little wooden door. "My room," he noted quietly, scratching his neck embarrassed, as you peered inside. It had a twin bed, a wooden desk, and a handful of tiny, wooden sculptures. On his bedframe, right above his pillow, hung a delicate dreamcatcher.

How many times had you imagined his room? Now you were in it, your past daydreams and fantasies coming to life.

"Do you want to shower first?" Jacob asked, pulling out a clean towel from the bathroom closet. Oh.

"Sure," you said, hoping he wouldn't pick up on the slight disappointment that dripped in your voice. This was, after all, the first time in his house, he wasn't going to rush into anything just because you were here.

Showering brought back the humanness in you that had been lost to the cold. Your skin returned to its normal feel, slightly tingly from the warm water and you could now feel every inch of yourself. You lathered yourself up in soap, scrubbing extra in all the places that might be the slightest bit smelly. You washed your hair too, getting rid of any sand or seaweed that had found its way there.

You wrapped yourself in the large towel that Jacob had given you, grateful that it covered you almost entirely. With the edge of the towel, you wiped away a circle on the foggy mirror. You looked almost the same as you had this morning, which was a relief.

Jacob sat on his bed, fiddling with his hands as you tiptoed into his room.

"You can go," you said softly. Jacob looked up at you. You could tell he was trying his hardest to keep his eyes on yours. A hint of blush spread along his face, as his eyes made their way down from your mouth to your neck and finally landing on your collarbones.

Jacob stood up quickly, pulling pieces of clothing from his drawers. "Cool," he smiled at you, "Don't go anywhere."

Jacob's room felt cozy, even with just you in it. Your hands unfolded the lumps of cloth he had laid out for you: one oversized t-shirt and a pair of what seemed to be old boxer shorts. You pulled them on gratefully, now really feeling warm and cleaned up. They smelled like Jacob, a scent that sent your heart into an excited flutter.

The sound of running water sent an excited shiver down your spine. You had imagined Jacob showering so many times on your own, taking your time to really focus on what he did in there. If only you could see him now. The idea of Jacob naked now, made your breath hitch in the back of your throat.

The silence broke your train of thought. Jacob would be back in his room in just minutes and here you were, fantasizing and hyperventilating over him. You sat down on the edge of his bed, making an effort to take deep breaths, an attempt to look as normal as possible. You sat awkwardly on the corner of his bed, trying hard not to be suggestive or the opposite of that.

Jacob walked in, his hair still damp and holding the tightly wrapped towel around his hips. Your eyes made their way to where his towel met his bare skin, your imagination wild. Seeing him now was so different to all the other times, this time there was almost nothing between you except a little towel, ironically.

"Enjoying the view?" Jacob's voice pierced the deafening silence but his playful tone didn't match his eyes. His deep, dark eyes burned into your own, a want behind them that was almost palpable. You felt your face growing warm at his words but there was not an ounce of regret in you.

"I think you're wearing far too much clothes," you answered boldly, an answer he seemed to enjoy as you watched a smile creep onto his lips.

"You're one to talk," he chuckled, turning away from you as he searched for his next change of clothes.

"I think that's an easy problem to solve," you said softly, pulling off the boxers you wore and tossing them over to him. Jacob caught them easily, pulling them on quickly before dropping the towel.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. He was getting dressed, not undressed. You felt stupid now, feeling significantly naked despite the dress-like shirt that covered you.

Jacob seemed to pick up on your puzzled expression. He ran his fingers through his hair nervously, exhaling before he spoke. "I've never done this."

It actually came as a great surprise that Jacob was a virgin. You had expected him to be fairly experienced, given his attitude and the obvious physical attractiveness. Now you were thrown off your game.

"I-I really thought you had," you confessed, "A few times actually."

Jacob shook his head, his eyes still trained intently on the floor. "Never really got the chance," he said softly.

A pang hit your heart. Jacob seemed truly embarrassed and almost hurt. It had never been your intention to make him feel bad about the matter. You knew something had hurt him far before your had come along. You didn't know much about his past attachment to Bella Swan but you were sure that she wasn't a person that had brought him much joy during that time.

"It's okay, Jake," you assured him gently, "I was just curious but it doesn't matter."

Jacob brought his gaze up to you, his eyes soft. "I'd like to try but I don't want to hurt you, Y/N."

"You won't hurt me, Jake," you replied, walking over to him before reaching your hand out to his. He took your hand in his, the warmth of his skin spreading all over you.

You pulled him towards you, your eyes never leaving his. "You have to promise me that you'll tell me if I hurt you," Jacob said earnestly, his grip on your hand tightening faintly.

"I trust you," you whispered, wrapping an arm around his neck, placing your other hand on the side of his face.

Jacob leaned his face against your hand momentarily before taking your face in his hands, pressing his lips softly against yours. It was no surprise that his lips were just as warm as the rest of him. A shiver ran down your back as you kissed him back, your lips moving gently against his. Your hands found their way to his hair, running your fingers through it. Jacob groaned, pulling you closer to him, his breath quickening. Soon, every bit of you was touching him, every inch of skin against him. You could feel the little droplets of sweat beading on your forehead and running down your back from the heat of his body.

The need for him gnawed at you, the flutters in your stomach grew as Jacob took you into his arms, your legs straddling his hips. A ripple of pleasure went through you as you made contact with his hardened length, barely concealed by the boxers you'd thrown at him earlier. Jacob walked you over to his bed, his strong arms holding you up against him, his lips never leaving yours. He laid you down slowly, placing a steady hand against the mattress on either side of your body.

You brought you lips back to his eagerly, hoping he wouldn't be as careful with you anymore. You knew you weren't going to get anywhere as long as Jacob tiptoed around you. You were going to set the pace. Your kisses deepened as you ran your fingertips lightly down his neck towards his chest, Jacob's breathless sighs mixing with yours as you touched him. Your fingers trailed down along his chest, making their way towards the edge of his boxers. You could feel Jacob's stomach quivering as you brought your touch closer to him. You wanted so badly to feel him trembling beneath your hands.

You dipped a finger under the band of his boxers. He felt so much warmer than anywhere else. You wanted to feel that heat everywhere. Jacob's breath hitched when your hand came in contact with him, so hard and hot on your fingertips. Instinctually, you wrapped your hand around his throbbing length, not surprised its size. He was so big. You brought your gaze back up to Jacob, who now had his eyes shut tightly and eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. You watched him as you gave him lazy, long strokes, practically drooling at the noises that came out of his mouth. He looked so beautiful, so lost in your touch, his muscular arms beginning to shake as he kept himself propped up above you. A finger rubbed softly against his already wet tip brought a strangled moan out from Jacob. Your strokes became quicker, mesmerized at the feeling of him growing harder in your hand.

Jacob slowly began to come undone above you, his whole body shaking as he held himself up above you still. "Please," was all he could coherently plead. And you loved it. Seeing this vulnerability in Jacob was something you were not expecting and it only made you want him more. Your strokes returned to the slower pace you had started with, knowing he was just minutes away from cumming.

Jacob opened his desire-filled eyes as your hands came to a stop. You pushed him back gently, your hands on his muscular chest, until he was sitting on his knees. You propped yourself up on your elbows, pulling his shirt off of you, as Jacob watched you with wide eyes. Now fully exposed before him, excitement coursed through your veins. Jerking him off had made the heat pool between your legs almost impossible to ignore. You were desperate for any sort of release and you were going to get it.

You laid yourself back on the bed, Jacob still kneeled at the foot of it, his eyes trained on you, running up and down your naked body. Slowly, you ran a hand down your chest, pausing to squeeze your boobs before trailing your fingers down your stomach. Your legs parted, knowing very well what view Jacob would have from where he sat. And you began.

After years of knowing your body, touching yourself was simple and well known. Your fingers brushed your clit lightly, gasping at the shock that ran through you. The circles started slowly, pacing yourself as the tightness in your stomach began to build. You lost yourself in the pleasure, not holding back the moans that sprang from your lips. You knew very well Jacob too, was touching himself. You could hear it. The noises of his slick hand running up and down his length, mixed with his soft groans and breaths.

You opened your eyes to the vision of Jacob touching himself, his eyes dripping with lust as he watched you do the same to yourself, the veins on his arms bulging from the movement.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked slyly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

"You," he panted, his chest rising and falling as he responded.

"Mmmm," you breathed, "What about me?"

"About touching you. Tasting you. Being inside of you and making you feel so good," he said, his deep voice strained as he tried to contain himself.

"I want you to," was all you said.

Jacob was back on top of you in the blink of an eye. He was everywhere. Kissing, touching, and licking every inch of you. He felt like the sun, spreading a delicious warmth all over you. His mouth was on your stomach, parting your legs with his arms before trailing down to your inner thighs. You wanted him so badly and he knew.

His mouth found your clit, giving it a light lick as your eyes rolled back, gripping his hair tightly. You moaned as you felt Jacob's tongue drawing circles, your hips bucking involuntarily seeking more.

"Mmm," Jacob hummed, sending vibrations through your core as he did. You were so close.

"Wait," you breathed, your mind foggy from the pleasure. Jacob looked up at you, his expression slightly worried.

"Is everything okay?" he whispered, his mouth still wet from you.

"Kiss me," you commanded, pulling him to you eagerly. Your lips met in a frantic effort, tasting the sweet, slightly salty taste of yourself on his lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his, moaning softly at the feeling of his hardened dick against your bare stomach.

Jacob rolled over onto his back, his hands on your hips as you now straddled him. Your hips moved automatically against his, brushing your clit against his cock, your wetness dripping onto it.

"God," Jacob groaned, his fingers digging into your hips as he guided your movements to an even quicker pace. "So hot."

"I need you," you breathed, throwing your head back as you neared your orgasm again, "Inside of me."

Something snapped inside of Jacob as you moaned those words. His hands fumbled to find a condom on tiny nightstand beside his bed, wasting no time in pulling it down his cock. You lifted your hips as he positioned himself below you before pulling you down for another kiss.

"Are you sure about this?" he murmured, his eyes searching yours as his thumb stroked your cheek.

"I am," you replied, kissing him gently.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered against your lips. Your heart leaped.

"I love you too, Jake," you sighed back.

You lowered yourself onto him slowly, taking time to adjust to his size, listening to Jacob gasp as you took more of him in. He stretched you perfectly, the tip of his dick hitting your G-spot as you started to tentatively bounce up and down him. As you sped up, Jacob's hands found your boobs, taking them into his mouth as you moaned his name, his hands snaking their way down your back.

"Jake," you moaned, as his tongue swirled around your hardened nipple.

"Tell me," he groaned, "Tell me how good I make you feel."

"So good," you panted as Jacob's lips found your neck, biting your soft skin gently.

"That's it," he pleaded, "Ride me just like that. Please, Y/N."

Your hips were moving at an incredible speed, bringing you so close to the edge. You could feel Jacob's cock twitching inside of you, signaling his approaching orgasm.

"I'm gonna cum," you whined, no longer worried about what you said or how. All you could think about was Jacob.

"Mmmm, cum all over me," he breathed, his fingers gripping your ass tightly as he made you ride him even faster. It was all too much. Jacob inside of you, Jacob groaning your name, his breathless pleads, the heat of his body. Your orgasm shook through you, you threw your head back and cried out in pleasure. Your sight even blurred momentarily. Jacob's orgasm quickly followed your own, your name falling from his lips repeatedly as he buried himself deep inside you one last time.

It took you both a few minutes to catch your breaths, entangled in a sweaty mess as you did. Jacob stroked your hair softly and you traced imaginary swirls along his chest.

"So," you began, "you love me?"

Jacob laughed, his whole body shaking and ultimately shaking you as well. "Of course I do, Y/N."

You shrugged. "You'd never mentioned it."

"Well, my past love confession didn't go too well," he sighed, "Which I know is unfair to you but I wanted to use those words carefully this time, especially with someone as special as you."

"I understand," you smiled, propping your head on your hands to meet Jacob's gaze, "It's just nice to hear is all."

"It's nice to say," he said, his smile reaching all the way up to his eyes.

"Hmmm," you said thoughtfully, "Are you going to tell your dad?"

"Got nothing to hide," he winked at you, "I'll tell all of Forks if I have to."

"Jake!" you squealed, though you knew he truly would. Jacob was the showing off type.

"Kidding," he said, poking you in the side, "Unless..."

"Knowing you, you'll probably call the local radio or put up posters," you rolled your eyes at the idea of either of those happening, "Why don't we go cliff diving again tomorrow?"

Jacob's smile tugged even harder at the corner of his lips. "I've got an even better idea. Something you taught me today."

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A/N: honestly I didn't know how to end this oneshot I'm so sorry it's a little meh :/ but I really loved writing Jacob x Reader sm I might turn it into a oneshot series!!!

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #jacob black #team jacob #jacob black x reader #jacob black imagine #jacob black smut #twilight smut #twilight saga #twilight imagine #twilight fluff #jacob black fluff #the twilight series #the twilight saga

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moonlightrafe · 7 months ago

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Bad Idea, Right?

summary: A night of drinking with your friends lands you at your ex boyfriend’s apartment — which is ultimately a bad idea.

pairing: Modern!Aemond x Ex girlfriend!Reader

word count: 3k

warnings: Explicit smut, alcohol consumption, angst, brief mention of drug use, language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, creampie, Aemond is a fuckboy. 18+ MDNI

note: idk how I feel about this but Modern!Aemond is my weakness, and the grwm of Ewan ruined my life. Feedback is appreciated! Feel free to send me requests!

If someone were to ask you your own personal example of girlhood your answer would be simple: getting ready for a night out with your girlfriends. While going out and partying with your friends was fun, you considered the act of getting ready together art in itself.

It was tradition, a ritual. Filled with laughter, inside jokes, excitement, and anticipation.

Glitter, hairspray, memories. It was your time to bond and let go of everyday stress.

And that’s where you found yourself right now: sat in front of your best friend’s vanity, large curlers in your hair. The sweet smell of vanilla coming from Rhaena’s birthday cake scented candle filling the room.

Six months had passed since your breakup with Aemond and the twins had declared that you had spent more than enough time moping. It was time to get you back out in the world.

“I’m so happy that us girls are going out tonight,” Baela said as she finished up applying her mascara.

You involuntarily scoffed at her comment.

“What?” She questioned, glaring at you.

“It’s not like it’s just us,” you say matter of factly.

“Oh, come on! You know Jace is basically one of us!”

She wasn’t wrong. If you had to pick a guy to be in your friend group, it would be Jace Velaryon. He was easy to talk to, kind, considerate. A breath of fresh air from what you were used to. You understood why Baela was into him. Plus, he donned a beautiful set of chocolate colored curls matched with an adorable, toothy, grin.

“Do not beat around the bush, Bae!” You admonished, “I know Cregan will be there too.”

Cregan Stark was Jace’s best friend. A rugged guy from the North. He had a thick beard and piercing gray-blue eyes. He had quiet confidence, basically a big teddy bear. There was no denying he was rather handsome. It’s not that you would be opposed to sleeping with him, per say, you just weren’t sure if you were ready yet; although Baela begged to differ.

Once the three of you were all ready to go and the Uber was on it’s way, Baela pulled you to the side.

“Look,” she began, holding each of your hands in hers, “I know you're nervous. You’ve been through a lot and it can be hard to put yourself back out there — but you deserve this. Aemond’s out living his life, you have to live yours! It’s going to be fine! You look incredible, we are going to have a great time.”

Baela, as usual, was right. You were enjoying yourself. You were now on your third drink, tapping your finger nails on the glass as you half heartedly listened to Cregan tell an embarrassing story about Jace from when the two of them were in high school when you felt your phone vibrate.

A text from an unknown number flashed against your screen, paying no mind to it you opened it immediately. Your stomach dropped.

Hey… it’s Aemond.

You swore that men had some kind of radar that would let them know when a woman was finally happy without them. When that radar went off, only then was it that they decided to try to contact you again. Not during the months where your heart was left in ruin, not when you would do anything for answers. Only once you were healing, on the brink of reaching that light at the end of the tunnel; they weaseled their way into your life once more to ruin everything — and Aemond was right on schedule.

It had been months since he last contacted you, you felt as though your stomach was gonna fall out, your nervous system in a frenzy.

You could not let him ruin your fun.

“Let’s take a shot of something,” you suggested.

And then your phone buzzed again.

I know it’s been awhile, but I wanted to see how you’re doing?

Been awhile? That’s the understatement of the year. He didn’t care how you were doing when he broke up with you over a text. He didn’t care when the rumor of him sleeping with a professor spread around campus, humiliating you.

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

Relief washed over you once you saw Baela return with 5 shots of Tequila in hand.

“Heard this makes your clothes come off,” she said as she handed you the shot glass, shooting a wink over to Cregan. You downed the shot quickly, ignoring her comment. The liquid burned down your throat as it settled into your stomach.

Slamming the shot glass onto the table, your head spun and you could’ve sworn you felt your phone vibrate again. You needed air.

“I’ll be right back, I need a cigarette.”

“I’ll come with you!” Rhaena chirped.

“No!” You shouted, almost too enthusiastically.

“No, that’s okay. I know you hate the smell of smoke, Rhae. I’ll just be a minute.”

With that, you frantically made your way to the patio of the bar. Just as you lit your cigarette a familiar voice called out to you.

“Ohhh shit! I knew that was you!”

Now you were sure that the universe was certainly conspiring against you. It was none other than Aegon Targaryen. Aemond’s drunken, perverted, older brother. Wonderful.

Turning on your heel abruptly and puffing smoke out of your nostrils you gave him a reluctant wave.

“Hi, Aeg.”

“How are you?” He asked, wrapping his arms tightly around you, “how have you been?”

Not sure if it was the liquid courage or the need for someone else to witness the audacity of your ex, but you just shoved your phone into his chest, eyes glued to him as he scrolled through the messages with his eyebrows raised.

“Damn, I never would have thought Aemond to be the type to beg!” he laughed as you shot him a look of disapproval.

“Listen,” he said before taking a long drag of his own cigarette, “Aemond means well. He was pretty shaken up after you guys broke up.”

Yeah, right. What was there for him to be shaken up about? He broke up with you.

“And if you ask me,” he continued through puffs of his cigarette, “you’re the best thing that ever happened to him.”

“Isn’t he seeing someone like, twice our age?”

“Not anymore.”

A pregnant pause filled the air between the two of you as he handed you your phone back.

The conversation was becoming awkward, so Aegon tried to comfort you the only way he knew how.

“I know you’re stressed and all… do you, uhhh, want a bump?”

His question took you by surprise.

“A bump? Um, I’m good, Aeg.. thanks.”

The blonde lifted his hands up in defeat.

“Good call, if you do go see Aemond, I doubt he would be happy about that.”

“I’m not going to see Aemond,” you answer flatly, hitting his arm lightly.

“Well, whatever or whoever you decide to do tonight I wish you luck!” he smirked, “but, I know our mom would be thrilled if you started to come around again.”

“She misses me?” you blurted out, the desperation clear in your voice.

“Yeah,” Aegon shrugged, “we all do.” He smiled as his large palm patted against your back before he made his way back inside the bar.

You stood in silence as you finished your cigarette, unsure of what to do when you received yet another text from Aemond. You responded with the first thing that came to your mind.

Have you been drinking?

No. Come over. I want to see you.

Your phone buzzed again, but this time it was a picture. A photo of his cat Vhagar. The elderly feline was sprawled out across his leather couch, the caption reading: “she misses you too.”

She did not. She only ever liked Aemond.

Well, I’ve been drinking so… can’t drive.

Where are you? I’ll come get you.

No. He couldn’t. You couldn’t risk Baela seeing, she would kill you.

Nah. That’s okay.

God, this conversation was going nowhere. Why were you entertaining him anyway?

Let me get you an Uber.

Buzz.

Please.

Gods, he was pushy.

Fine 🫠

Once you found yourself back inside the bar, you decided to use that last shot of tequila as your reason to leave. You had said something along the lines of the mixture of liquors wasn’t agreeing with you and that you were gonna head out. The girls were disappointed, but they understood. Baela’s only condition is that you were sure to text her once you were home safe. You bid Jace and Cregan goodbye, and even agreed to go out for drinks with them again in the upcoming week.

As you sat in the backseat of the Uber, your palms filled with sweat and your heart raced as you made your way to the other side of the city to Aemond’s new apartment. You couldn’t help but feel nervous, wondering how he might react and if this was the right decision. Your mind raced with thoughts and emotions, but you tried to stay composed as you you pulled up to the building.

Aemond was waiting outside the apartment complex for you. His expression was unreadable as he puffed on the last few drags of a cigarette, quickly flicking it to the ground and stomping it out so he could make his way over to you.

“Hey,” he greeted, offering a shy smile before extending his arms out to hug you. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

His scent alone was intoxicating. A mixture of nicotine, spearmint toothpaste and musky cologne. Being in his embrace again had your head spinning, you felt as if your heart was going to beat out of your chest. It was almost as if the two of you never parted ways, like he never left. Damn him, you thought to yourself .

“Well, this is my new place,” he said as he opened the door to the lavish apartment. It was absolutely was stunning. Beautiful, mahogany cabinets and stainless steel appliances. The living room was spacious with high ceilings and a giant window that had an incredible view of the city. It was very Aemond-esque. It felt familiar, safe.

You spotted Vhagar on the dark green velvet couch in the center of the room.

You watched carefully as one of her eyes opened, she rose from her spot almost instantly once she spotted you. Making a beeline to Aemond’s bedroom.

“I thought you said she missed me?” you asked playfully.

"I may have lied," Aemond replied, giving you a shy smile.

An hour had gone by and you had spent the majority of it arguing with Aemond about your past. You listened to him attempt to apologize, explaining that it wasn’t you, it was him. He made a mistake, he’s changed. You weren’t having it, and yet, in the midst of it all, you had found yourself sitting so close to him you were almost on top of him. Mid sentence he had crashed his lips against yours. A rude interruption, for sure — but now, all bets were off.

The kiss was rough and intoxicating, a clash of teeth and tongue. He grazed your bottom lip with his teeth before sucking it into his mouth. Your head spun.

"More," you whispered against his lips, "I need more of you."

Aemond took no time to pick you up and carry you to his bedroom, as he placed you down on his bed gently. You feel his hands tearing off your clothes, striping you down to your underwear. Your heart raced with anticipation and desire. The intensity of his touch sent shivers down your spine. He lowered himself on top of you, reaching his arm up over his shoulder to remove his own shirt.

As he leant back down over you, his tongue trailed from your chin to your lips. A soft moan escaped your throat as he sucked on your lips, taking control of the kiss.

Arousal stirred inside you as he nipped down at your neck, licking and sucking until you arched your back under him, desperate for his touch.

“Missed me baby?” he teased, “because I sure missed you”, his violet eye scanned over your body, blown with lust as he made his way down. His slim fingers ghosted along your stomach, then gripped harshly onto the meaty flesh of your thigh. Your legs parted, letting him know what you wanted. He didn't hesitate, pulling your underwear off with one swoop. Leaving you completely bare in front of him.

“I missed this pretty little pussy too, fuck,” he groaned before biting at your thighs just before lowering his head between them, licking a stripe up your slit. You bucked under him, pushing him harder against you, driving his face deeper into your center.

A low groan left your throat, his name falling from your lips as you tugged at his silver hair and held his face against you. His tongue circled around your clit, the small bud swollen from his attentions. His fingers found their way inside you, exploring your cunt.

His thumb replaced his tongue on your clit as he rubbed harsh figure eights against you. He continued to rub your clit harder. Your breathing quickened, and your body legs began to shake.

"Oh, there’s my girl. You gonna cum for me?"

The combination of his words and a few more thrusts of his fingers made your mind go completely blank. Your ears rang, your vision blurred so much you had to squeeze your eyes shut, eventually seeing stars. Aemond finger fucked you through your orgasm as you soaked his hand.

You laid there for a moment, total blackness surrounding you until your Aemond’s calm voice brought you back to reality.

“Holy shit. You good baby?”

You nodded your head eagerly at him, “More than okay.”

After giving you some more time to come down from your first orgasm, Aemond crawled on top of you, as he began to slowly drag his cock between your already swollen folds, swirling the tip in your wetness; almost pushing in, but not quite.

“Aem,” you moaned, “please, I need to feel you. All of you .”

“Still so needy, hm?” He teased as he buried his cock inside you to the hilt. You winced at the length of him.

“Littleeee bit of a stretch baby,” he said as he let you adjust to his size, “there we go.”

"Oh.. Gods," you moaned. You forgot just how big Aemond was. The stretch was almost unbearable and yet, you craved more. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper into you.

He began to rock back and forth into you, pumping his cock in and out. The louder you moaned, the harder he pounded into you. Eventually, the head of his cock pressed against your cervix.

"Please, please don't stop," you begged. He began to pound into you harder and faster, the lewd sound of his balls slapping against your ass filled the room. You felt your second orgasm of the night building inside of you as he continued to fuck you.

"Oh, Gods! Aemond, please, you’re going to make me cum again,” you babbled as your orgasm ripped through you once more. Your cunt clenched around his length as the tip of his cock bullied the spongy spot inside you without mercy.

Your slick coated walls contracting around him was all it took for him to lose control. He let out a loud groan as he spilled himself inside you, filling you with his seed as he bit down hard on your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned as the aftermath of his own orgasm coursed through him, his cock still twitching inside of you. After placing a wet kiss on your cheek he positioned himself upright, placing a hand flat on the headboard behind you to help keep balance, he slowly pulled his cock out of you. You winced at the emptiness, a pool of warmth leaking out of your cunt and onto the bed sheets.

“Oh, shit. Here, let me help clean you up.”

As you came down from your high, you also came to your senses. No. Him cleaning you up would be too intimate of an act — as if he wasn’t just buried inside of you.

“No, Aem. It’s fine, I need to go to the bathroom anyway.”

He shrugged, “there are washcloths under the sink if you need one.”

Your heart sank as the bathroom door shut. A red lacy bra, that definitely didn’t belong to you was slung over the door handle. Memories of your past relationship came flooding back, along with feelings of sadness and regret. You couldn’t help but wonder who the bra belongs to, your first thought was that older professor. It's a painful reminder that not only had Aemond had not changed at all, he also just took advantage of you.

This was definitely a bad idea.

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mattyriddlesbitch · 8 months ago

Note

Please please please please please do a Tom Riddle Smut, I’m thinking maybe Sweet/Innocent Reader that’s just so polite in front of others but in actuality is almost always needy, like she’s constantly trying to drag Tom away to his dorm because she’s just so desperate for him

I am so sorry this took so long! Pls forgive me! I hope this works!

Innocent and Filthy

Tom Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: choking, cussing, unprotected sex, oral(male receiving), cream pie, dacryphilia.

18+ Minors DNI!

You were sitting with Tom and his friends in the common room. You sat on the couch next to Tom, getting as close as you could without being on top of him, holding onto his arm as he had his hand on your thigh. You were always pretty quiet around his friends, never saying anything foul or dirty. His friends all found it funny how Tom found someone so innocent and sweet when he could be pretty blunt and rude.

What they didn't know was how filthy and horny you always were. Always begging Tom to help take care of you. Always dragging him off somewhere to help.

Even right now, he could see the way you clenched your thighs, trying to get a little relief from how needy you were. You gave a little tug on his sleeve and gave him a sweet, pleading look when he turned his head to look at you. He sighed softly but stood up and you quickly followed as he walked to his dorm.

“Where are you going?” Blaise called after you two.

“My dorm.” Tom answered, but didn't give any other information as you grabbed his hand and nearly dragged him along.

Once inside his dorm, he closed the door. “You're always so needy, doll. Couldn't even wait until I was done out there.”

“I'm sorry, Tommy, I just really need you.” You said, a small pout on your lips.

“Is that how you address me?” He asked, wrapping a hand around your throat as he guided you backwards to the bed.

“No, sir.” You shook your head.

“That’s right. Show me how desperate you are, doll.” He said as he let go of you and sat on the bed.

You followed his order and striped your clothes off, kneeling in front of him as a small ‘please’ escaped your lips.

“Use your words.” He said.

“Please, let me suck your cock, sir.” You pleaded, giving him pleading eyes.

“Always such a slut for my cock, huh?” He said, undoing his belt and pants, letting his erection free. “Go on then. Put your mouth to use.”

You eagerly obliged, wrapping a hand around the base before leaning forward and teasing the tip. He sighed before pushing your head down to take his cock in your mouth. He guided your movements as tears pricked your eyes, feeling his dick hit the back of your throat over and over again.

“Crying already, doll?” His voice was teasing and condescending as he pulled you off by gripping your hair, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his cock. Before you could even reply, he pushed you back down. “Do you want me to fuck you now?” He asked and you moaned around him in reply. “Beg me then. Use your words.” You pleaded around his cock as he kept guiding your head up and down it before he pulled your mouth off of him again.

“Please, sir, need you so bad. Please fuck me, sir.” You begged, tears in your eyes as you caught your breath.

“So pathetic.” He said before standing up and pulling you to stand by your hair and pushing you towards the bed, making your front fall onto it as he stood behind you. “Always so fucking desperate.” He started pushing his cock into you, grabbing your hips to meet his. “Look at how filthy you are, begging for me to fuck you, begging for my cock inside you.” He moved a hand to wrap around your throat as he started thrusting, your moans coming out all choked and broken.

“So-good-sir!” You said between thrusts.

“Is this what you wanted? To be fucked like a whore?” He asked in your ear as he leaned down closer to you.

“Yes!”

“You such a desperate, pathetic whore, aren’t you?” He bit at the side of your neck.

“Only for you, sir!” You cried, gripping onto the sheets below you.

“You always know the right answers, doll. Be good for me and cum.” He said, squeezing your neck a little tighter.

You got lightheaded from the choking, intensifying the pleasure you felt. Your orgasm hit you, making your legs shake and broken sobs of his name leave your mouth.

“Good fucking slut. Is that what you’ve been needing all day?” He asked as he rode out your orgasm. “Just needed to cum on my cock?” His hips stilled as he came inside you, muttering ‘fuck’ under his breath before catching his breath.

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@demieyesore @akira1246 @queenshu

Let me know if you wanna be added!

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys smut #tom riddle x reader smut #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle smut

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rafeandonlyrafe · 8 months ago

Text

relaxing

words: 900

warnings: 18+ only, handjob, thigh riding, c*mming on tits, semi public (theyre outside but its very concealed)

“what's up baby?” rafe asks, noting the way you're softly whining as you sit on the patio, staring out at the water, listening to the waves gently lapping against the shore.

“want you.” you complain. you always want rafe, but now more than others as you clench your thighs together.

“i just fucked you this morning, you're already needy?” rafe laughs harshly, making your bottom lip pout out more as you press your forehead against his bare shoulder.

“what do you expect? you're sitting there all shirtless and sexy…” you peek down at his abs, glistening slightly with the sheer layer of sweat on his skin from the warmth of the sun.

“im relaxing right now though, baby.” rafe hums, shutting his eyes as he soaks in the rays.

you huff out in frustration, swinging your leg over rafes thigh and planting yourself down.

“feel free to get yourself off.” rafe places his hands behind his head, leaning back against the plush chaise cushion.

“i will.” you say defiantly, placing your hands on his abs. you're thankful for the lack of clothing your wearing as your bikini bottoms are the only layer you have to push to the side to press against rafes bare skin.

“your swim trunks are so short.” you giggle.

“they're the ones you bought me.” rafe rolls his eyes, pushing the hem down, showing off the the lines of muscle that disappear into his shorts.

rafe places a casual hand on your hip as you begin to move, grinding yourself into his leg, feeling his muscle clench as you move.

“can you-”

“no.” rafe hums. “i told you, im relaxing.”

you groan and move forward so you can rest yourself against rafes front and keep your hips moving. you sigh happily at the stimulation, not needing to get off immediately.

“can i-”

“hm?” rafe questions, bouncing his leg, cutting you off as you gasp.

“can i touch you?”

rafe smile grows, a lazy grin taking over his tanned features. “sure. im just not gonna do any work.”

you sit back up straight, pausing your movements, focus now turned to rafe as you grip the swim shorts you bought him specifically for the short inseam as you pull them further down his hips until you're able to get his cock out.

you're thankful for the privacy of your background, hedges on either side blocking your neighbors view of the patio as you stroke a single finger over his length before wrapping your fist around the base.

“so soft.” you giggle, rarely getting to play with rafes cock when it's not hard.

you gently stroke your first up and down, swirling your thumb over the head every time you move.

“fuck, that's good.” rafe moans, quickly hardening against your palm as you move up and down.

“gonna help me out?” you hum, beginning to slide your hips again, wetting his thigh with your slick.

“nope.” rafe smiles as you groan.

“please! i want you.” you whine, stroking faster, hoping it will entice him.

“and i want you too. i always want you, but this is my relaxing time. if you want anything, you gotta do it yourself.”

you frown but continue your movements, determined to get rafe off. you consider dropping to your knees and sucking him, but then you'll be left with nothing to grind against.

the gentle hand placed on your hip tugs at your bikini strings, pulling it completely away as rafes hand rounds your body to grip your ass, but despite his fingers in your plump flesh, he gives you no assistance in moving.

“such a jerk.” you pout.

“oh come on, i fuck you real good every day, you can do the work for once.”

“im doing the work!” you stroke faster to prove your point.

“just complaining the whole time.” rafe laughs, the smile not falling from his face as he watches you, your tits bouncing in your bikini top with every movement.

“i love you.” rafe blurts out.

you smile as well, pausing to lean in and give him a big kiss. “i love you too, handsome.”

“and im gonna fuck you so good tonight. get me off baby.” rafe wraps a hand around the one one around his shaft, guiding you to continue moving as you let out soft moans, hips regaining their speed.

“if i bounce my leg and get you off, you'll let me cum on your ass?” rafe questions.

“yes!” you nod quickly.

rafe immediately begins to move, the hand on your ass assisting your grinding as he clenches his muscles and bounces his knee up and down until you're screaming out.

your orgasm washes over your body as your back arches, chest pressing into rafes face.

“fuck, wanna cum on your tits instead.” rafe pushes you off and onto your knees, tugging your top down to reveal your chest as his hand pushes yours off his cock.

you place your palms against his knees, chest heaving up and down from your high as he paints your skin in white.

rafe flops back against the lounge chair when he's finished, dick still out as you lean your head against his thigh, breathing heavily until you're able to use your legs enough to stand.

“wanna swim?” you question.

“skinny dip?” rafe raises his eyebrow, looking up and down your body.

you undo the string on your bikini so it falls away before jumping into the pool just a few steps away.

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hoe4hotchner · 3 months ago

Text

You left me behind, and now I see you everywhere | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!fem!Reader | WC: 11.6k | CW: MDNI, 18+, emotional distress, heartbreak, angst, unresolved feelings, grief, heated argument, anger, smut, piv, wrap it before you tap it, it's office sex, heated kiss, dirty talk, kind of rough sex, general case talk, mention of mr. Scratch (if that's even a warning, maybe some of y'all have trauma ;))

Summary: After years apart, following Hotch’s departure into witness protection and his decision to run for Congress, you're forced to confront unresolved feelings when you meet again. Tension builds as you navigate your emotional fallout, leading to a passionate confrontation and a second chance at love.

A/N: Worldwide by Big time rush started playing from my playlist as I reached the last scene to edit…. I had to stop myself from crying cause that song fits so well for some reason.

Peter Lewis was dead. Mr. Scratch was finally gone. With him out of the picture, Aaron could come back. That had been your one glimmer of hope through all the sleepless nights and endless waiting — knowing that once Lewis was no longer a threat, the man you loved would return. No more running, no more hiding. Hotch and Jack would finally be safe.

You clung to that thought like a lifeline, repeating it to yourself over and over again: He can come back now. He’ll come back to me. He'll come home.

The rumors had reached your ears days before Rossi called the meeting. Hotch was out of witness protection. Finally free to do what he wanted, to reach out again. Your heart soared at the news, desperate for it to be true. You had tried to keep your emotions in check, to remind yourself that things weren’t that simple, that there were procedures he had to go through before he could come home. But still, the idea of him walking through those doors — or knocking on your door — returning to his place at the BAU, and — most importantly — returning to you, was the only thing that kept you from breaking completely during his absence. It was the only reason why you had been able to keep your composure.

Now, as you stood in the conference room, your arms wrapped tightly around your torso, you tried to calm the rapid beating of your heart. The relief of knowing Peter Lewis was gone should have been enough. It should have been enough.

They'll be safe.

Rossi took his place at the front, his demeanor was serious, a subtle weight to his usually warm expression that you'd come to love over the years. You could see the effort it took for him to meet your eyes, his gaze softening as though he knew the words that would follow would shatter you. Rossi had become a rock to you over the past year, always there to have a heartfelt chat about your feelings, how you were doing, and the progress you'd made trying to move on. But in reality, you hadn't.

“I’ve spoken to Aaron,” Rossi said, his voice calm but laced with gravity. “He and Jack are safe. They’ve left witness protection.”

You exhaled sharply, a mix of relief and joy rushing through you. He’s safe. After everything, he was safe. That meant he would come back. He had to.

But then Rossi continued, his eyes flicking over the team, hesitant in a way that made your stomach twist. “Hotch won't be returning to the BAU.”

The world around you froze. His words echoed in your ears, but your mind rejected them, refusing to accept the truth they carried. He’s not coming back? It didn’t make sense. You couldn’t make sense of it.

"What do you mean he’s not coming back?"

The tears welled up before you could stop them. Your throat tightened, and you felt your heart shatter inside your chest. He wasn’t coming back. The man you loved — the man you had held onto, even when he left you behind — was choosing not to return, was choosing to stay away. The hope you had so carefully nurtured and held onto was ripped away in an instant, replaced by a cold, gnawing sense of abandonment. You felt the pit in your stomach, and you couldn't tell if you were going to throw up at the revelation.

It felt like someone had stabbed you with a knife.

Tears blurred your vision as you stared blankly ahead, your body betraying you as the sobs threatened to spill out. You blinked rapidly, trying to push them back, trying to ground yourself, but it was no use. How could he?

You had waited. You had been patient. You had loved him through all of it — through the secrecy in the beginning, through the ups and the downs, and now through the distance. You had held onto the belief that once the threat was over, he would come back to you. That you two could be whole again. That your soul finally would be reunited with its missing piece. But now, it seemed like everything you had hoped for, everything you had believed in, was gone.

Your hands shook as you tried to wipe the tears from your face, but they just kept coming. He’s not coming back. The realization pierced through your chest, sharp and unforgiving. It was like reliving the moment he left, only this time, there was no promise of a future. No promise of us.

You felt like a fool. You had been his, entirely, even when he hadn’t been yours. You had given him everything — your love, your trust, your loyalty. And now? Now he had left you with nothing but the weight of that betrayal.

Your legs felt unsteady beneath you, but you couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. The room around you faded into the background as your world crumbled at Rossi’s words.

Aaron Hotchner wasn’t coming back. Not to the team. Not to you.

The silence in the room after Rossi’s announcement was deafening. You stood there, tears streaming down your face, completely oblivious to the concerned glances being exchanged around you. The tension in your chest was unbearable, and it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

Emily was the first to notice, her brow furrowing as she took a step toward you. “Hey,” she said softly, her voice full of concern as she tilted her head with compassion. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The words were stuck in your throat, buried under the crushing weight of your emotions. You shook your head, your lips trembling as you tried — and failed — to stop the tears. Truth be told, they weren't surprised by your reaction.

“Hey, come here,” JJ said gently, moving closer, her hand hovering just above your shoulder, wanting to pull you in for a hug. Her touch was warm and comforting, but it felt like too much. The kindness, the sympathy — it overwhelmed you, only reminded you of how deeply you’d been hurt.

You pulled away, a sudden, jerky movement that made JJ’s hand drop back to her side. The rejection was unintentional, but you couldn’t help it. Your skin felt like it was on fire, and all you wanted was to be left alone, to scream and cry.

“I’m fine,” you managed to choke out, though the crack in your voice betrayed you. You turned away from them, wiping furiously at your face, even though the tears wouldn’t stop.

I can’t break down here. Not in front of them.

Morgan stepped forward, his expression softening as he watched you struggle. “You don’t have to pretend, you know. We know how much he meant to you. We’re here for you,” he said, his voice low, it was sincere, but you weren't ready for that, weren't ready to admit that this was your new reality.

But that was the problem. They were all there, and you were unraveling in front of them, exposed and vulnerable. You didn’t want their comfort. You didn’t want their pity. What you wanted was Aaron. You wanted answers. You wanted an explanation for why he had chosen to leave you behind, why he wasn’t coming back. For why he never called.

Your heart twisted painfully at the thought. You clenched your fists at your sides, feeling the weight of their eyes on you, all of them waiting, ready to offer support. But it wasn’t enough. It will never be enough.

They weren't him.

You shook your head again, more forcefully this time. “I just—” Your voice cracked, the rest of the sentence dying on your tongue. “I need to go.”

Rossi, who had been quietly watching the exchange from across the room, stepped forward. His eyes were filled with understanding, but there was nothing he could say that would make this easier, there was nothing he could do that wouldn't make you hate him. “Take the day if you need to,” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that usually offered comfort, though it barely registered through the numbness settling into your bones.

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. You nodded stiffly, walking into the bullpen to grab your things. Your hands shook, desperate to escape before you completely fell apart in front of everyone.

“Hey,” Emily called out, stepping out of the conference room, but you didn’t turn around. You couldn’t face them — not now, maybe not ever. You pushed through the door, your footsteps echoing loudly in the hallway as you fled the room, the concerned voices of your teammates fading behind you.

Your heart raced as you moved down the familiar corridors, each step feeling heavier than the last. The walls closed in, the pressure mounting in your chest until it became unbearable. By the time you reached the front doors, you could barely see through the tears, your vision blurred, your breath coming in short, shallow bursts.

Outside, the cool air hit your face, but it did little to soothe the ache in your chest. Grey clouds loomed over your head, threatening to spill the same tears that you so desperately tried to hold back.

You stopped as you reached the end of the parking lot, finally letting the sobs you had been holding back tear through you, the grief, the betrayal, all of it crashing over you in waves.

He’s not coming back.

The words repeated in your mind, over and over again, each time cutting deeper than the last.

You had never felt so abandoned, so completely lost. And the worst part was, you had no idea what to do next, no idea who to turn to. Because the only person you truly wanted to turn to was gone from your life.

The walk back to your apartment felt like a blur, the city passing by in a haze of noise and light. You barely registered the world around you — your mind was somewhere else entirely, trapped in the ache of Rossi’s words and the sharp sting of Hotch’s decision. He wasn’t coming back. The words haunted you.

That thought pulsed through your veins, making each step feel heavier than the last. By the time you reached your door, your hands were still trembling as you fumbled with the lock, desperate to get inside and just breathe.

But the second you stepped into your apartment, something felt off.

You paused just inside the doorway, your body instinctively tensing as a strange feeling washed over you. The air felt… different. Still. You took a cautious step forward, your eyes scanning the familiar space, searching for something — anything — that looked out of the ordinary, that might explain the knot forming in your stomach.

Then you saw it.

Sitting neatly on the dining table, in plain view, were your spare keys. Next to them was an envelope with your name on it, scrawled in a handwriting only a left-handed person could've written. You recognized it immediately.

Aaron’s.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you just stood there, frozen in time. Fear and confusion mixed with a sick sense of dread as you stared at the letter, the weight of it pressing down on your chest. How did he get in?

And how had he gotten out? The door had after all been locked.

Your heart pounded from your heart to your ears as you walked toward the table, the floor feeling unsteady beneath your feet. You hesitated for a long moment before picking up the envelope, the paper felt cold and rough between your fingers. The sight of his handwriting was almost too much to bear.

He had been here.

With shaking hands, you slid your finger through the envelope, carefully opening it and removing the letter as if it was the most delicate thing you had ever seen. Your eyes scanned the words, every stroke of the pen, every curve and twist was a painful reminder of the man who had once been yours.

The letter read:

𝙸’𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢.

𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚢𝚎. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔.

𝙸 𝚘𝚠𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚢. 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚝. 𝙴𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝙰𝚄. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔. 𝙷𝚎’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 — 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 — 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚢. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚕.

𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝. 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑. 𝙸 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚛, 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚜, 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚔’𝚜 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍, 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚊𝚖.

𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢. 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐. 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 — 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎.

𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚐𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚠. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚘𝚗. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕, 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗.

𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.

— 𝙰𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚗

The letter slipped from your hands, fluttering to the floor as your legs gave out beneath you. The sobs came violently, tearing through you as you collapsed onto the floor of your living room.

This was it. This was the moment where everything you had been holding inside — every ounce of grief, every bit of hope that had clung to your heart over the past year — finally broke free. The pain you had shoved down for so long, the hurt you had tried so hard to hide, came rushing out all at once, too powerful to contain.

You pressed your hands to your face, the tears spilling uncontrollably as your chest heaved with sobs. He had been here. He had come back to your space, to your life, only to leave you with words that felt like daggers in your heart.

He could've waited for you to come home.

He had made his choice. He was leaving you behind. And he had done it with the same precision he used for everything — careful, calculated and always thinking ahead. You couldn’t fault him for wanting to protect Jack. You would've done the same if you had been in his shoes. But you could hate the way he had left you, hate him for making you feel discarded, like something in his life that could be put away, neatly, and forgotten about without a second thought.

You curled into yourself on the floor, hugging your legs, your body trembling as wave after wave of sorrow washed over you. This wasn’t just about him leaving the BAU. This was about him leaving you. About him cutting you out of his life completely, like you had never mattered at all.

The sobs racked through you, they were raw and unrelenting, as you lay there on the cold floor of your apartment, clutching at the emptiness inside you. You had been holding onto him for so long, for too long, and now he was gone — really gone. And you were left with nothing more than the bitter taste in your mouth and the sound of your own shattered heart echoing in the silence.

Six years had passed since Hotch had walked out of your life.

In that time, you had grown, changed — hardened, perhaps. You’d thrown yourself into your work, climbing the ranks within the BAU. The weight of your experience now rested comfortably on your shoulders. You were no longer the agent who had cried in Rossi’s office all those late nights, the agent who had stood frozen in the conference room all those years ago, devastated by the news of Hotch’s permanent departure.

Now, you were Emily's right hand, trusted to run the team when needed, especially when bureaucracy. Rossi had decided to stop back a bit, taking on fewer cases and focusing more on his writing as he attempted weaning himself away from the team, hoping that this time he truly would be able to retire.

Leading the team had come naturally to you, though some days, when the office was quiet and your mind wandered, you still felt the ache of his absence.

You sighed softly, rubbing the back of your neck as you closed your office door behind you. It was time for the next briefing, and you’d promised Emily you’d call everyone in. The case was urgent — a missing child, time was not on your side — but as you walked toward the conference room, your attention was pulled to the large TV mounted on the wall in the bullpen.

A voice you hadn’t heard in years rang out through the room, smooth and familiar, the same low timbre that had once soothed your heart. The voice that still echoed in your dreams on nights when sleep was particularly elusive.

Aaron.

You stopped in your tracks, eyes snapping to the television screen, your heart thudding loudly in your chest as his face filled the screen. You couldn't tell if it was anxiety or love perhaps, that raced through your veins, the only thing you knew was that you were feeling something. Something you hadn't felt in years.

There he was, standing at a podium, flanked by the American flag, a calm and authoritative presence as he spoke to a crowd. The caption running along the bottom read: Former FBI unit chief Aaron Hotchner Announces Candidacy for a spot in Congress.

Your breath hitched. He looked older. The lines on his face were more defined, his hair tinged with a little more gray, his face was shaven, somethings never change you thought — though you could sense the salt and pepper streaks that had started appearing within it. The years had marked him, but there was still an undeniable strength in his presence. A steady, unshakable resolve that had always been a part of who he was.

And yet, even now, after all this time, he still looked as good as the day you last saw him. Perhaps even more so, with that air of confidence that seemed to come so naturally to him. The sharpness in his gaze, the way he commanded a room — it was all still there, just as you remembered — even through a TV screen.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away.

“…It is with great honor that I announce my candidacy for Congress,” Hotch’s voice continued, steady and firm. “My years of service in the FBI have prepared me to take on the challenges we face as a nation, and I believe it’s time to bring the values of justice and integrity to the forefront of our government. I believe it's time for a change.”

The camera zoomed in on his face, his expression was stoic yet passionate, every word calculated and purposeful. The sight of him brought back a rush of memories — late nights in the office, quiet moments where you’d lean on each other after a case, the warmth of his smile when it was just the two of you, away from the chaos, the comfort of his hugs, the soft and tender feeling of his lips — everything came back.

But those memories were ghosts now. Echoes of a time you had buried deep, right along with the pain of losing him.

A lump formed in your throat as you stood there, rooted in place, watching a man who had once been everything to you stand on that stage, now completely out of reach — yet so close by. He wasn’t the same man you knew all those years ago, you were sure of that. He wasn’t your Hotch anymore. He was something else entirely — a public figure, a leader stepping into the political arena, ready to take on a whole new world — perhaps he never really was yours to begin with.

Your fingers tightened around the folder in your hands, your knuckles turning white with sheer force, the weight of it grounding you as you forced yourself to breathe. You didn’t know what to feel. Shock, maybe. Sadness. Perhaps even a bit of pride, seeing him like this, doing something for the greater good. But mostly, there was a gnawing ache deep in your chest, a familiar one, reminding you of what could have been.

You blinked rapidly, tearing your gaze away from the screen as the room started to blur around you. Your heart was racing, but you couldn’t let yourself fall apart. Not here. Not now.

“Everything okay?” Luke asked, walking past you, his eyes flicking to the TV screen before landing back on you, concern etched on his face. He didn't know much about your relationship with Hotch, only the rumors that had flown between the desks in the bullpen as you'd drowned yourself in work trying to suffocate the pain.

You nodded quickly, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah,” you lied, your voice tight. “I’ll be right there. Just… finishing something up.”

Luke gave you a nod, but his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he headed toward the conference room, leaving you standing there, feeling like the air had been sucked out of the space around you.

You turned back to the screen, just in time to catch the last shot of Hotch stepping down from the podium, the applause from the crowd ringing out as the camera panned away.

For a brief moment, you wondered if he had ever thought about you during these last six years. If he had thought of calling you. If, somewhere in that busy mind of his, you had crossed his thoughts as he prepared to step into this new chapter of his life.

But it didn’t matter now. He had made his choice, and so had you.

Taking a deep breath, you straightened your shoulders and turned away from the screen, pushing down the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. There was a case to solve. There always was. And that was the only thing that mattered now.

“Alright, team,” you called out, walking towards the conference room, your voice steady once again. “Let’s get to work.”

You walked into the conference room, trying to shake off the lingering effects of seeing Hotch on the TV. The rest of the team was already seated as you made it inside, files in hand, waiting for you to start the briefing. Emily glanced at you, her eyes narrowing slightly, sensing something was off, but she didn’t press. She trusted you to compartmentalize when it mattered.

You inhaled deeply and projected the case details on the large screen at the front of the room. The image of a young boy's smiling face filled the space, the innocence in his eyes starkly contrasted by the grim reality of his disappearance and the details listed in the case files of similar incidents in the area.

“Alright, everyone,” you began, keeping your voice steady. “Our missing person is Ethan Marshall, age 7. He was last seen outside of his school two days ago in a quiet suburb of Portland, Oregon. His parents reported him missing when he didn’t come home after his play date that same day with his best friend from class. There’s been no contact from a potential abductor. No ransom demands. The local authorities are stuck, and they’ve requested our help.”

JJ immediately sat forward, flipping through the case file. “Two days with no leads and no communication? We’re looking at someone who doesn’t need the attention. This could be personal, or we’re dealing with someone who’s done this before and knows what they're doing.”

Tara nodded thoughtfully, her gaze still fixed on Ethan’s photo. “The fact that there’s been no contact suggests they’re not after money. This might be about control, power, or even something darker, like revenge or even fantasy or sexually-driven motives.” You closed your eyes for a brief moment at the thought of what the unsub might put the young boy through. You had to find him, quickly.

You clicked through to the next slide — images of Ethan’s parents, Tim and Julia Marshall. “Ethan’s parents are a stable middle-class family with no criminal records. His mother works as a nurse, and his father is a local contractor. No major incidents or enemies we or they know of. However, Tim Marshall's company was sued about a year ago over a construction job that went south. It’s possible there could be a grudge tied to that.”

Luke leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “But to target a child? It’s a big escalation. If this is about the father’s job, we’d need to look into that lawsuit, but we also need to consider the possibility that the kid was the primary target from the start.”

Emily chimed in, her eyes sharp with focus. “Agreed. We should explore all angles — someone with a grudge against the family, a potential predator, or maybe even someone close to the family. It’s often someone they know.”

Spencer, who had been quietly flipping through his notes, spoke up. “The average age for a child abductor is in their mid-thirties to mid-forties, typically male, though that’s not always the case. Most of them have a history of deviant behavior or crimes against minors. If this is someone who’s taken Ethan to satisfy a fantasy, we might be looking at someone who has done this several times before and is getting better at hiding their tracks.”

Your gaze swept over the team, the weight of the case settling in the room. “We’ve got a few potential leads we need to investigate. JJ, I want you to work on the media angle — see if you can coordinate with local news to get a controlled message out, prepare the Marshalls for a conference. Luke, you and Tara will dig deeper into Tim Marshall’s lawsuit. See if there’s anything there we can work with. Spencer, I want you to start profiling any possible suspects within a fifty-mile radius who fit the age and behavioral profile of past offenders.”

The team nodded, already mentally gearing up for the work ahead. You could see the gears turning in their minds as they absorbed the information and pieced together possible profiles of the unsub.

Finally, you cleared your throat, pushing away the personal turmoil still brewing inside you. “Alright, everyone, we’ve got a missing boy out there, and time is against us. We’ll get more information as we land.”

You snapped the case file shut and looked up at your team, your voice firm. “Wheels up in 30.”

The team dispersed quickly, heading off to gather their gear and finalize last-minute preparations. You lingered behind for a moment, watching the case photos flicker on the screen. Your heart was still heavy from earlier, but you had a job to do. No distractions. No room for the past.

Focus, keep moving, you told yourself, even though the image of Hotch’s face still lingered in the back of your mind, you couldn't afford to spare him another thought.

The case had been wrapped up with surprising speed, and the flight back to Quantico was a welcome relief. You settled into your seat, the hum of the plane a calming reminder of the good you and the team had done today. You felt the exhaustion seep into your bones as the plane roared into the sky. The hum of the engines and the rhythmic sound of the wings provided a backdrop, but you couldn't shake the tumult of emotions swirling within you.

As you glanced around the cabin, you noticed that everyone else was fast asleep, the exhaustion from the long days evident on their faces. Emily’s head rested against JJ’s shoulder, and Spencer was curled up in his seat with a book laid open in his lap, the pages fluttering slightly with the plane’s movement. Luke, too, was snoring softly on the couch, a slight smile on his lips as he pulled the blanket tighter around him. They all looked so peaceful.

But your mind was far from peaceful.

You leaned back in your seat, your thoughts racing back to Hotch’s announcement. You had tried to compartmentalize your feelings during the case, focusing solely on finding Ethan. But now, with the rush of adrenaline faded and the quiet of the plane surrounding you, the weight of it all crashed back in.

“Hey,” came a familiar voice, pulling you from your thoughts. Rossi had moved to sit across from you, concern etched into his features. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s going on?”

Before you could filter your thoughts, the words slipped out. “Did you know?”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he knew exactly what you were referring to. “Yes, he called me last week to let me know.”

Your heart raced at the revelation. “He called you? Why didn’t you tell me?” Your words came out as a hushed hiss. Rossi knew you hadn't meant it like that, but your frustration of how everything had panned out had never really gone away. He understood why you were feeling like you did.

Rossi leaned back in his seat, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he took in your features. “I didn’t want to upset you more than you already were. I thought you’d hear about it when he officially announced it. I thought maybe he'd even reach out himself” Rossi knew Hotch wouldn't reach out to you, even if his life depended on it. He was a proud man, and even if he had been willing to admit his wrongs, he was too scared to face you and realize just how big of a mistake this truly had been.

You ran a hand through your hair, frustration bubbling to the surface. “But why, Rossi? Why would he do this? He had a life with us — his life in the BAU, with Jack, with me. And now he’s just… gone.”

“I know it’s hard to understand,” he replied softly. “But running for Congress might be a way for him to contribute on a larger scale. He wants to help people, to make a difference, just like he did with us. This was a chance for him to step into a role where he could have an even bigger impact than what he had in the bureau. Who knows, maybe we'll see him around someday.”

You shook your head, the tears threatening to spill again. “But he didn’t even talk to me about it. It’s like he just vanished. I thought we had something, and then he just left. I felt so abandoned.”

Rossi’s expression turned serious. “You know how Hotch is. He’s always been someone who puts others before himself, even at the cost of his own happiness. I think he truly believes this is what’s best for Jack and for himself. It doesn’t mean he didn’t care about you. In fact, I know he cared deeply about you. It just means he’s trying to figure things out in his own way.”

“But what about me?” You whispered, your voice trembling. “I was left behind, and now I’m still here, trying to navigate everything without him.”

Rossi said your name, leaning forward, his eyes softening. It wasn't as much a reprimand, as it was him trying to stop your spiraling thoughts. You both knew it did you no good. Especially not if the rumors were true and Emily was in line for the open position of Section Chief. Both of you knew what that would mean for you. “He made a choice, yes, but it doesn’t erase what you two had. If anything, it highlights how much he valued that relationship. He wouldn’t have just walked away without thinking it through, even if it seems that way.”

You took a deep breath, trying to find your footing amidst the emotional turmoil. “I just don’t know how to deal with all of this. It feels so final, so absolute. I thought I was ready to move on, but seeing him on TV...”

Rossi reached across the table, his hand resting gently on yours. “You don’t have to have it all figured out right now. It’s okay to feel hurt. It’s okay to be confused. But remember, you’re still part of this team, and we’re here for you, no matter what. You’re not alone in this. You never will be.”

You nodded slowly, his words providing a small sense of comfort amidst the chaos in your heart. “Thanks, Rossi. I appreciate it. I just wish things were different.”

He gave you an understanding smile. “So do I. But whatever happens next, we’ll face it together. And if you need to talk about Hotch, I’m here to listen. Just know that he still cares, even if it doesn’t seem like it right now.” You knew he was right.

As you both fell into a comfortable silence, you felt a little weight lift from your chest. Maybe you didn’t have all the answers yet, but you had the support of your team. And that was a start.

Weeks drifted by like the clouds hanging in the sky, each day seemingly blending into the next. Hotch’s face became a fixture on the television, the cadence of his voice echoing in your mind like a haunting refrain. News reports came almost daily, showcasing him speaking passionately about his vision for change, the values he held dear, and the policies he aimed to implement if elected. The topics ranged from community safety to education reform, and while many praised his ideals, you found yourself seething each time his image flickered across the screen.

He still hadn't contacted you yet.

At first, you tried to engage with the reports, focusing on the substance of his speeches, realizing that despite everything he's policies aligned with your values too, but as each new broadcast emerged, anger simmered beneath the surface. It was infuriating to watch the man you loved stand there, poised and confident — visiting schools, nursery homes, community centers, and everything in between — while you were left with nothing but fragments of the life you had once envisioned together. He seemed so distant, a stranger now, embodying everything you once admired but now felt betrayed by.

Each time you heard his voice, the way he articulated his beliefs with the conviction that had once made your heart race, you locked yourself in your office for the remainder of the day, drowning out the world with your frustration and sorrow. Your colleagues exchanged worried glances as you retreated, but you couldn’t bring yourself to explain. They didn’t know the depth of your pain, the feeling of abandonment that clawed at your insides. And you weren't ready for them to know.

On one particularly long evening, the office was silent, the usual buzz of activity having died down as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting shadows across your workspace. You sat alone at your desk, the glow of your computer screen the only light illuminating the room. Your heart felt heavy, the emotional burden weighing on you like a thick blanket.

As the clock ticked away, you absentmindedly pulled out your phone and scrolled through your photos. You found it — the last picture you had taken with Hotch and Jack. You hadn't meant to look for it, but something within you had drawn your mind to that particular folder with pictures you never quite had the strength to transfer out of your phone. In the picture, the three of you stood in the park, sunlight filtering through the trees, laughter frozen in time. Hotch’s arm was around you, a protective and loving gesture, while Jack beamed in front of you, holding his soccer ball in his hands, all youthful energy and innocence.

You stared at the image, the way Hotch’s eyes crinkled at the edges with genuine joy, contrasting sharply with the turmoil roiling in your chest. A single tear slid down your cheek, carving a path through the haze of anger and hurt.

“Jack,” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the office. He must be close to 18 now. The thought struck you like a lightning bolt. Time had slipped by so swiftly, and you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of young man he had become. Had Hotch been there for him? Had he taken the time to show his son what love was? Did they share the same laughter you once did, or had the weight of their decisions overshadowed those moments?

You closed your eyes, allowing your mind to drift back to memories of Jack — the way his laughter filled the room, his playful spirit that lit up the darkest days. The action figures scattered all over your apartment. You remembered the way he would come running into your arms when you stayed over for the weekend, his small frame clinging to you like you were the safest place in the world. You had cherished those moments, and now they felt like distant echoes, fading into the background of your life.

The thought of him growing up without you, of Hotch and Jack creating a new life that you weren’t a part of, twisted in your gut. The anger that had bubbled beneath the surface surged forth again, but this time, it mingled with an overwhelming sense of grief and longing. You felt like a ghost haunting the edges of their lives, watching from afar as they moved on, while you were trapped in a limbo of unresolved feelings.

Taking a deep breath, you swiped the tear from your cheek and opened your eyes. You couldn’t stay like this. You couldn’t let him keep affecting you from a distance, even if it meant facing the truth of your feelings. You needed to regain control, to reclaim your narrative, whatever that might look like.

As you set the phone down, determination coursed through you. You would find a way to confront the anger and pain, to redefine your path without him. But the journey would be a challenge — one you weren’t entirely ready to take, yet knew you had to face.

With a heavy sigh, you stood, ready to leave the remnants of that day behind. You took one last look at the photo on your phone, whispering softly, “I hope you’re happy, Hotch. I really do.”

And with that, you stepped out of the office, leaving for the night, leaving the memories behind, but carrying them with you as you prepared for whatever came next.

A couple of days passed since that late night in your office, the echo of memories lingering like a haunting refrain. You had spent the time focusing on work, throwing yourself into cases, and helping your team. It was a temporary distraction, but every time you caught sight of a news segment featuring Hotch, you felt that familiar ache in your chest. Each broadcast, showcasing his polished demeanor and political aspirations, only stoked the embers of frustration and longing buried deep within you.

Then, one afternoon, as you sat at your desk, your phone buzzed with an incoming message from an unknown number. Your heart raced with curiosity and a hint of apprehension as you opened the text:

“Hey! It’s Jack..... I don't know if you remember me. I know this is a bit out of the blue, but I’d love to see you. We're back in Virginia again. I miss you and wanted to ask if you’d meet with me. Sorry if this is weird, but I hope you’re okay.”

Your breath caught in your throat. It was Jack. After all these years, he was reaching out. The memories of his laughter and bright smile flooded back, bringing with them a rush of warmth and bittersweet nostalgia. Without a second thought, you quickly typed out your response.

“Hi, Jack! It’s great to hear from you. I’d love to meet. How about we catch up at the café near the Academy?”

You hit send and felt a wave of nervous excitement wash over you, followed closely by a rush of trepidation. What would he look like? Would he be the same boy you remembered, or had he transformed into someone else entirely different? The thought churned in your stomach as you anxiously awaited his reply.

The day of the meeting arrived, and as you approached the café, your heart raced with anticipation. The small establishment was bustling with life, the aroma of fresh coffee wafting through the air, mingling with the sweet scent of pastries. You stepped inside, scanning the room until your eyes landed on him.

Jack sat at a table in the corner, his back to you, and you felt a jolt of recognition. He had grown into a young man, tall and confident, with his hair still matching Haley's, his eyes brighter than ever. But it was the way he carried himself that struck you most — he exuded a maturity that seemed to echo Hotch’s stoic demeanor, yet there was a warmth about him that was uniquely his own. Jack was much more like his mother than he would ever realize.

As he turned to look at you, a broad smile broke across his face, and your heart swelled at the sight. He stood, and for a moment, it felt like time had collapsed, erasing the years that had separated you. You rushed forward, wrapping your arms around him, and he embraced you tightly, a mix of nostalgia and warmth flooding over you both.

“Jack,” you whispered, stepping back to get a better look at him. “You’ve grown up so much.”

“Yeah, well, I guess that’s what happens when you turn eighteen,” he replied, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice, but the joy in his eyes was unmistakable. You were surprised by how deep his voice had gotten, still recalling the sweet sounds of the 11-year-old boy who had gone into witness protection.

You both settled into your seats, and the initial rush of excitement settled into a comfortable rhythm as you sipped your coffees. “How have you been?” you asked, genuine curiosity etched in your voice.

Jack hesitated, his expression growing serious. “It’s been tough since… since everything that happened. After we left witness protection, it was just Dad and me. We moved a lot at first but eventually settled down in Chicago. Dad tried his best, but it wasn’t easy.”

You nodded, your heart aching for him. “I can only imagine. How is he doing?”

Jack shrugged, glancing down at his cup. “He’s okay, I guess." He mumbled. "He doesn’t talk about you much, I don't think he can bring himself to let the memories resurface. But I can tell he misses you a lot. He still has all the pictures of us together. Sometimes, I catch him looking at them when he thinks I’m not paying attention.” His voice was thick with emotion, and you felt your heartache further.

Had Hotch been as miserable as you?

“I missed you both too,” you admitted, your voice softening. “But I don't know if I can bring myself to keep holding on to the past. Not as long as Hotch hasn’t reached out to me, I’m probably not going to contact him. At least not for my own well-being.” You sighed, knowing it was the right decision, but still beating yourself up for listening to your sensibility.

Jack’s gaze met yours, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “I get it. I just wanted to see you after all this time. You were like a mother to me after Mom…” His voice trailed off, and the pain in his eyes mirrored your own. You wondered if Hotch had ever talked about Haley, talked about what had happened to his mother, if Jack had ever gotten any answers?

You reached out, placing your hand over his. “I’m so sorry, Jack. I wish I could have been there for you both. I loved you both so much.”

“I know,” he said, squeezing your hand. “And that’s why I wanted to meet. I just—” he paused, searching for the right words. “I needed to know if you were okay. It’s been a long time, and you were always there for me.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, a mixture of sorrow and relief washing over you. “I’ve missed you more than I can say. You were such a bright light in my life, Jack. It’s been hard without you both.”

The conversation flowed naturally, filled with shared memories and the weight of unspoken emotions. You listened as Jack talked about his life since Hotch had stepped into the world of politics — his own struggles, school, feeling like his friends didn't know the real him, the challenges of growing up without a mother, and the bond he still cherished with his father. It felt like they never left.

“I think Dad thought he was protecting me by not talking about you. But I needed to know about you, how you were doing. I needed to know you were okay.” He confessed, his eyes earnest. “He was always so focused on keeping me safe that he didn’t realize how much I missed you. How much he missed you.”

The warmth of Jack’s words wrapped around you, reassuring you that your bond hadn’t faded, even in the years apart. You shared stories, laughing softly at the memories of days long gone. The sun filtered through the café windows, casting a golden glow over the two of you, illuminating the path of healing you both needed.

As the café buzzed around you, it felt like a sanctuary, a safe space where the past and present intertwined, reminding you of the love that had once filled your life. This was a step forward, a chance to heal the wounds that had lingered for too long.

In that moment, sitting across from Jack, you realized that while the scars of the past might never fully fade, the possibility of rebuilding a future was within reach. Maybe not with Hotch, but potentially regain contact and a relationship with Jack.

“Let’s not let this much time pass before we see each other again,” you suggested, your heart lifting at the idea of keeping this connection alive.

“Definitely. You can count on it,” Jack promised, and as you both exchanged a smile, the weight of your shared history felt a little lighter, the hope for what was to come a little brighter.

The sun streamed through the windows of your office, casting a gentle glow on the stacks of case files and the photographs of the BAU team adorning your walls. You leaned back in your chair, still buzzing from your meeting with Jack, your heart lighter after the emotional reunion. The warmth of yesterday's trip to the café lingered in your mind, a comfort amidst the chaotic world of profiling and criminal behavior.

Just as you began to focus on the case at hand, there was a soft knock on your door. You looked up to see Emily stepping in, a slight frown creasing her forehead. She crossed the room and sat down in one of the chairs in front of your desk.

“Hey,” she said, her tone catching your attention. “I just got off the phone with the Director. He wants the BAU to assist with a case involving a politician in Congress.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Congress, knowing potentially what that could mean, and you held your breath, bracing for the inevitable connection. “Do they have any details yet?”

Emily nodded, her eyes searching yours. “Not much. It seems there’s been some suspicious activity surrounding him, but the Director wanted us to prioritize this. I thought I should let you know, especially given the possibility of running into Hotch.”

You felt a pang in your chest at the mention of his name, but you pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand. “So, we’re not profiling Hotch, then?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady with a joke, masking the swirl of emotions rising within you.

“No, he’s not involved at all with this case actually,” Emily clarified, crossing her arms. “But with him being in the spotlight, there’s a chance we might see him around, especially if the investigation takes us to other parts of D.C. or if he’s involved in any press events while we're at Congress.”

You nodded, absorbing the information. “Right. I guess I should prepare myself for that possibility.” Your heart raced at the thought, the image of him on the television still fresh in your mind. The last few weeks of seeing him on the news had stirred up a mix of longing and unresolved feelings, and now the idea of encountering him face-to-face was both thrilling and terrifying.

“Are you okay with this?” Emily asked, her gaze softening with concern. “I know seeing him might bring up some stuff.”

You took a deep breath, weighing your emotions. “I’ll be fine. I have to be. We have a job to do, and I can’t let my feelings get in the way of that.” You tried to sound confident, but uncertainty crept in.

Emily smiled, a mix of support and understanding shining in her eyes. “I know you’re strong. Just remember, we’re in this together. And if it gets overwhelming, I’m right here.”

“Thanks, Em. I appreciate that.” You felt a swell of gratitude for her unwavering support. “Let’s get the team together and see what we can dig up on this case.”

Emily nodded, pushing herself up from the chair. “I’ll gather everyone for a briefing. Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

As she left your office, you couldn’t shake the feeling of impending change in the air. The thought of the case intertwined with the possibility of seeing Hotch again sent your mind racing. There was a part of you that yearned to see him, to hear his voice again, but another part was afraid of what it might mean for the rehabilitation of your heart shattered.

After a few moments, you collected yourself and headed to the conference room, determined to focus on the task ahead. You were a profiler, after all, and you wouldn’t let personal feelings cloud your judgment. But as you stepped into the room and looked at your team, the looming presence of Hotch hung over you like a shadow.

The bustling atmosphere of Congress was overwhelming, the echo of voices mingling with the rustle of papers and the faint sounds of distant conversations, as crowds of people moved past you every single second. Somehow you hadn't thought the building would be this busy.

You moved through the maze of hallways, the weight of the case hanging over you like a heavy cloud. After an intense briefing with the team and several hours of sifting through documents, you decided a quick coffee break was necessary. It was a small reprieve, a moment to gather your thoughts before diving back into the investigation.

As you stepped into the crowded café, the rich aroma of coffee filled your senses, providing a brief comfort. As you waited for your order you glanced around, noting the throngs of aides and politicians, some deep in conversation, others lost in their phones. After what felt like an eternity, you finally received your drink, you ordered a cappuccino, absently stirring the foam as you made your way back toward the senator’s office.

Navigating the marble corridors was not easy, you focused, trying to remember the way you had come from. The noise of the café faded behind you as you moved further away, and the hum of energy around you began to fade as you thought about the case details you had just discussed with your team. But as you rounded a corner, lost in thought, everything changed in an instant.

There, just a few feet away, stood Aaron Hotchner. Your Aaron.

Time seemed to freeze. The world around you faded into a blur, and all you could see was him. He looked older nothing like he had looked on the TV, more refined, better even, yet he still carried that familiar intensity in his dark eyes. It was as if the years had melted away, and you were right back to those last moments before he disappeared from your life. Your heart raced, the mix of emotions overwhelming as you locked eyes with him.

For a brief moment, neither of you moved, caught in an electric silence that stretched between you. The familiar ache of longing hit you hard in the chest, twisting your stomach into knots. Memories rushed back — laughter, warmth, the comfort of his presence — but so did the pain of his absence and the betrayal you felt when he left.

In your shock, you didn’t realize your hand had loosened its grip on the coffee cup until it slipped from your fingers. The porcelain collided with the polished floor, shattering into a million tiny pieces, the sound echoing loudly in the otherwise quiet hallway. The hot liquid spilled out, soaking into the pristine marble and staining the floor with brown patches.

“Oh God,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. You stepped back, embarrassment flooding your cheeks, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him.

Hotch said your name, his voice low and steady, yet laced with an emotion that mirrored your own shock. He took a cautious step toward you, as if afraid you might disappear again. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Neither did I,” you managed, your voice trembling as you fought to regain your composure. But the words felt inadequate, too mundane for the weight of the moment. A wave of emotion crashed over you, and the dam holding back your feelings began to crumble. “Do you even realize what you put me through, Aaron? Do you know how many nights I spent wondering if you were dead or alive? How many times I replayed those last moments in my mind, wishing I could have changed things?”

Hotch’s expression shifted, pain flashing across his face. “I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was doing what was best for Jack!”

“Best for Jack?” you repeated incredulously, your voice rising with each word. “What about me? What about my feelings? You just left! You abandoned me without so much as a goodbye! I had to rebuild my life without you, and all you can say is you were trying to protect him. It doesn’t make any sense!”

He took a step forward, frustration mingling with sadness in his eyes. “I had no choice! I had to keep you both safe! Do you really think I wanted to leave you behind? You think it was easy for me? It wasn’t! I’ve thought about you every single day!”

The sincerity in his voice pierced through your anger, but you couldn’t let it go. “It’s too little, too late, Aaron! You can’t just show up out of nowhere after six years and expect everything to be okay. You made your choice!”

“I never stopped loving you!” he shouted, his voice filled with raw emotion. The admission hung between you, heavy and charged, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

You stepped closer, eyes locked onto his, fueled by a mix of anger and disbelief. “How can you say that? You left me! You made a choice, and you chose to protect your son over me. I had to learn to live with that — learn to live without you!”

“And it killed me! I had to protect my family, and in doing so, I destroyed my own happiness. But you have to know, you were always in my heart. I never wanted to hurt you!” His voice softened slightly, the intensity shifting to desperation. “I thought you’d move on, that you’d find someone better who could give you what you deserve.”

“Better?” you scoffed, your anger giving way to an ache in your chest. “You think I wanted anyone else? No one could ever compare to you, Aaron. I spent years waiting for you, hoping you’d come back, that we could fix this.”

He took a step closer, closing the distance between you. “Then why didn’t you reach out? Why didn’t you try to find me?”

“Because you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me!” You shot back, tears of frustration burning your eyes. “I had to respect your choice, but I thought you’d at least have the decency to contact me after everything we went through together!”

“I didn’t want to put you in danger! I thought it was for the best!” His voice rose again, echoing through the hallway, but there was a desperate plea beneath his anger.

“Best for who, Aaron?” you demanded, your emotions spilling over. “You think running for Congress is going to fix everything? You think I want to see you on TV every day, talking about policies and values when all I want is to talk to you about us?”

Before you could finish your thought, he closed the gap between you in an instant, grasping your arms gently but firmly. The intensity in his eyes held you captive, and then he kissed you. It was a collision of pent-up emotions, a heated, desperate kiss that spoke of everything unsaid. Your lips pressed against his, teeth grazing against teeth, and for a moment, the world around you faded into the background.

You lost yourself in the kiss, a whirlwind of anger, longing, and the familiar warmth that had always existed between you. It felt like no time had passed at all, yet every moment you had spent apart surged back, filling the space with an urgency you hadn’t felt in years.

Without breaking the kiss, you found yourselves moving, bodies instinctively drawn toward his office down the hall, Hotch leading the way. The door stood ajar, but you barely registered it as you stumbled inside, Hotch pulling you in after him. He nudged the door shut with his foot, the soft click of the latch echoing in the silence as he pressed you against it.

You barely noticed the cluttered desk or the framed photographs lining the walls. All that mattered was the heat radiating from him, the way his hands cupped your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. He kissed you again, deeper this time, a fierce claim that made your heart race.

With each touch, the tension from earlier seemed to dissolve, leaving only the intoxicating rush of being so close again. You could feel the weight of his desperation, the years of longing that had built up between you, igniting a fire within you that had never truly gone out.

Finally, as you both breathed heavily against each other, he stepped back slightly, just enough to turn the lock behind him. The finality of the action made your heart pound even harder, the implications of this moment crashing down around you.

Before you knew it, Hotch crashed his lips into yours once again.

“Goddamn it, you’re so fucking wet,” he muttered into your neck, as he moved his hand under your skirt, you could feel his smirk against your skin. He was kissing you again, his fingers sliding up your body until they reached your breasts. You arched back into him with a soft sigh of pleasure, your hips rolling against his growing erection. You could feel how much he wanted you and it made you even more desperate for him.

You broke away from the kiss, staring up at him through half-lidded eyes. “Fuck me,” you said your voice sounded rough, still thick with lust from the kiss. You could see the flicker of pleasure that danced across his face, the fire burning in his eyes when he heard your words.

He didn’t speak though, he just pushed you back against his desk and as your ass met the wooden edge he lifted you up onto it by your things. The movement made your skirt ride up further, you tried to pull it back down out of instinct, but Hotch stopped you with a firm grip on your wrist. You gasped when his hands moved to grab the edge of your panties as he ripped them off. That had always been his favorite thing to do. Nothing had changed.

You barely had a chance to catch your breath before he had two fingers buried deep inside your cunt. “Fuck,” you hissed against his lips. He added a third finger and you gasped, your nails clawing into his back as you braced yourself, pleasure radiating through your body. You were already close to coming, desperate from the lack of a man's touch, he’d only been fingering you for a few seconds, but it was a much-needed release that you hadn't realized you had needed. He was determined to make you cum, was going to make you cum in his office, on his desk. You truly hoped that his door was locked.

Hotch leaned in and kissed you again, sucking at your bottom lip and then moving down to your neck. He bit into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, you moaned in response. Your legs spread around him and he groaned as you rocked your hips against his hand, trying so desperately to chase your release.

“Fuck, I need to get inside you,” he muttered against your skin. "I need to feel that pussy again. My pussy." He growled.

You felt a shiver run through your body at his words. “Please,” you begged, “now.”

You didn’t know if you unbuttoned his pants or he did, but somehow they were already around his ankles and he was pushing into you. His cock pulsed as he bottomed out, clouding your vision with the pure bliss from finally feeling him again. You let out a breathless moan as he stretched you out. It had been way too long since you'd felt the touch of a man you thought. His touch. Your hands slid down his back trying to pull him closer in an attempt to push him deeper inside of you. He groaned as he started to thrust into you. You felt every ridge of his cock as he moved.

The rhythm was hard and fast, your skin slapping together in loud claps. Your pussy was dripping, slick with wetness, your muscles clenching around him with every thrust as if you were trying to lock him in place inside your heat. You cried out when he pushed you down flat on his desk, his arms wrapped around your body as he started fucking you with the raw essence of an animal. The pleasure ran through your head and you nearly came right there.

Hotch grabbed your hair and yanked your head back. “You’re going to cum on my cock, aren’t you?” He hissed through gritted teeth.

“Yes,” you hissed, trying to move your hips under him. Your teeth gritted, eyes rolling back into your head as your breathing sped up, almost hyperventilating from the immense pleasure.

“You like being fucked on my desk, don’t you?”

“Fuck,” you moaned.

He slammed into you and then stilled. You whined in frustration as he held still inside of you. “Tell me. Use your words!”

“Yes sir,” you agreed, hoping it would get him to start moving again. It worked like a charm and he quickly slammed into you once more before fucking you into oblivion again. Hotch hit your G-spot with every thrust, you could feel your orgasm building up inside, the knot tightening, dangerously close to snapping in half. You felt him swell inside of you, his cock pushing into you harder and faster than before, as his thighs started vibration, you knew he was close too.

He leaned down over you and kissed you as you came. He swallowed down your cries as his hips stuttered. His cock felt like it was going to split you in half, but it felt so good as it sent you into a new level of pleasure. He came hard, hot liquid filling you up, you clung to his shoulders and cried out again as he groaned into your mouth.

Hotch pulled away slowly, his breath ragged as he held you close for a moment longer. The heat of the moment lingered in the air, but as he took a step back, you felt the loss of his warmth immediately. He gently helped you shift into a sitting position on the edge of his desk, his hands steadying you as you settled.

He moved to stand between your legs, the space filled with unspoken words and the weight of years apart. His eyes searched yours, an intensity in his gaze that made your heart flutter. Hotch cupped your face, his thumbs brushing lightly over your cheekbones.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. The intimacy of the gesture, so simple yet so profound, stirred something deep within you. It felt as though he had never left, as if no time had passed at all since that fateful day in his office so many years ago where he had just been... gone.

He pressed tender kisses to your lips, each one a promise, a reassurance that this moment was real. You leaned into him, surrendering to the familiar comfort of his presence as you wrapped your arms around his torso, resting your head against his chest. You let the tears that had been building up finally spill over. They rolled down your cheeks, mingling with the remnants of the heat that still pulsed between you.

“I… I met up with Jack,” you admitted your voice barely above a whisper, laden with emotion. The moment hung heavy in the air. You could see the flicker of surprise in Hotch’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by understanding. “He’s grown up so much. He’s… he's an adult now.”

Hotch’s expression softened, a mix of pride and sadness flickering across his features. “He’s always been a remarkable kid,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m glad you two were able to reconnect.”

“I missed you both so much,” you confessed, the weight of your words crashing over you like a wave. The years of longing, the nights spent wondering about him and Jack, came rushing back. “It’s been so hard, Aaron. Watching you on TV, hearing you talk about your values and the future... all I wanted was to be a part of that future again.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I know. I wanted to reach out so many times, but I didn’t know if I was worth it to you. I thought you’d moved on. Didn't want to disrupt your life.”

You shook your head, a mix of determination and vulnerability surging within you. “I never moved on. I just learned to live without you. But I don’t want to do that anymore.”

Hotch stepped closer again, his hands still cradling your face as if he were afraid you might disappear. “Then let’s try again,” he said softly, the sincerity in his voice melting the last remnants of doubt lingering in your heart. “Let’s see if we can make this work, for us and for Jack.”

You swallowed hard, hope igniting within you like a flame. “I want that,” you whispered, a smile breaking through your tears. “I really want that.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against yours once more, the kiss gentle but filled with an undercurrent of promise. It was a reaffirmation of everything you both had lost and everything you hoped to regain. In that moment, surrounded by the chaos of the world outside, you felt a sense of peace and belonging you hadn’t experienced in years.

“Let’s take it one step at a time,” he said, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze, his eyes bright with determination. “We’ll figure this out together.”

With your heart full and tears still glistening in your eyes, you nodded. For the first time in years, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders. The future ahead felt uncertain, but for the first time, it was a future you were excited to face — together.

@vikingstoner69

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moonlight-prose · 4 months ago

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girl I just know Logan would fuck so good it’s criminal 😩

damn he can destroy me any dayyyyy

the way i am losing every bit of sense in my mind, body, and soul just thinking about this man is detrimental to my health. someone take away my rights to fixate on him cause i'm already dead. 18+ only. which means minors this is not for you.

He's nasty with it when he decides to fuck you. And it's not a hard decision to come to. In fact, he finds it relatively simple. All it takes is one smile his way, one glance in his direction, and would you look at that - he's hard and leaking.

Maybe it's some borderline obsession he has with you. He's choosing to think of it as love.

So when he finally gets a chance to take you in the way he likes - slow and teasing with just a hint of the feral animal within him - he jumps at the chance. He spreads you on the bed, locks the fucking door to keep out unwanted visitors (Wade), and delves into the fantasies that keep him up at night. Although in his mind, he prefers images of you coming on his cock, to endless nightmares.

You couldn't remember a time where you weren't possessed by this man. Where he wasn't claiming your mouth in a kiss so searing - all teeth and tongue and enough spit to trail down your chin. Where he wasn't knuckle deep - his thumb a constant pressure on your already overstimulated clit.

The sob he wrenches from your body isn't loud enough to appease his hunger.

So he curls his fingers, latches his tongue to your slit, and eats until your dripping down his chin. Later when your asleep, he'll be able to taste you still clinging to his lips.

Obscenely he once called it his midnight snack. Only to feel you punch him in the side with an embarrassed shriek.

And when he finally fucks you; sinks deep into your used cunt that's still throbbing from your fourth orgasm. He's depraved with it. He grips your chin and forces you to watch his pupils dilate - growing darker with each harsh thrust.

He uses the weight of his hips to pin you to the bed and pounds into your squelching pussy. Your dripping down to his balls that slap repeatedly against your ass. A creamy white ring has formed at the base of his red tinted cock, and the screams he tears from your throat are enough to soothe his inhumane hunger.

When he fucks you he's whittled you down to the raw nerves beneath your skin. He's ripped free every sound, every tear, and demands to see it again.

You finish with a broken wet sob that should be his name, but doesn't quite make the cut. And he cums inside you - always inside - with a harsh bitten out groan. One you'll replay on nights when he's stuck on a mission and all you have to keep you company are your fingers.

And even after all that. After you're a leaking incoherent person laying on the bed - eyes bleary with tears and lips curled into a fucked out smile. He'll kiss you softly, lick up whatever spit he missed from your tongue, and slide his way back down your body.

With the claim: A good man cleans up his fuckin' mess.

#witch aunt responds #itsmeatballworld darling #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #my writing #logan thoughts & musings

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obeymeshallwedateaddict · 5 months ago

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Your clothes, my body, shared passion

So I thought it was about time I wrote some steamy and passionate moments with the brothers. At first my idea was an ordinary fluff fiction where you take their clothes and see their reaction but I decided to put some spice to it. So enjoy!

Summary: You take a piece of each brother's clothing, in an attempt to seek some fun time.

WARNING! The story contains 18+ content. Please proceed with caution!

Contains: NSFW

Fem!MC x each of the brothers

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

Lucifer

The eldest has been overworking himself once again. You could swear that the demon hasn't slept for days and is really stressed. Last night he even missed dinner and when you went to bring it to him you saw him asleep on his desk. So today you decided to surprise the demon.. You went to his room, opening his closet and grabbing his favourite tie. You stripped off of your clothes and put the tie on. Looking over at the mirror you smirk mischievously at your provocative form. You grab one of his coats, cover yourself with it and head to the study where Lucifer was doing paperwork. You knocked on the door, waiting for Lucifer's exhausted "Come in". And when you received it you walked in the room, making sure to lock the door behind yourself.

-Lucifeeerr~ –You chuckle and look at him as he continues doing his paperwork like nothing happened.

-Hm? –The eldest mumbles. He moves his gaze towards you and when he does you drop the coat, revealing your naked form to the demon. His eyes widen and he stops in his tracks. The fountain pen drops from his grip as he checks you up and down.

-MC.. –Lucifer shakes his head and chuckles.

-Someone is desperate for my attention I see.. hmm.. Come here then.. I shall indulge in you.. –The demon speaks up and you rush over to his side. He pushes all the documents to the floor, freeing space on his desk as he grabs you by the tie and yanks you to him, placing a kiss to your lips. You feel his hands grip your waist and he sits you down on the desk in front of him.

-Mm... Only a tie huh? And my favourite one at that.. God, MC... You don't know how sexy you look right now.. –Lucifer raises from his seat and leans over you. The eldest traps you between his arms and begins kissing you passionately. You attempt unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt and he chuckles as he sees you struggling.

-Want some help? –He asks and rips the shirt off of his body, leaving his bare chest to you. The demon leans down to kiss your neck as your hands loom over his bare chest. He lets out a low groan.

-You naughty girl... The things you do to me.. –He hisses and continues kissing and nibbling on your neck, leaving tiny love bites in its wake.

-What things? – You tease and he groans once again, before gripping your hand and bringing it forcefully down to his clothed cock.

-This.. –He breathes and stirs up to your touch. You let out a subtle chuckle and grip his dick through his pants, earning a growl from him.

-MC, you're playing with fire. –He hisses but you ignore him, unzipping his trousers and pushing them to the floor along with his boxers, freeing his large and throbbing, demon cock. Your eyes widen in mischief to the sight and the demon throws his head back, taking a deep breath, trying to remain composed. But he fails. Lucifer grips you once again and turns your body over, so your chest is laying on the cold, wooden surface of his desk.

-You asked for this.. –He hisses before gripping a fist full of your hair, yanking your head back as he enters you without warning. You whine to the feeling of his cock entering you. The eldest begins moving, thrusting in and out of you forcefully, grunting and groaning from time to time. You squeeze him tightly as you feel each and every vein of his cock, throbbing inside you, hitting all the right spots. At one louder moan you let out he plants a spank to your butt, in an attempt to shut you up.

-I needed this... Now be a good girl and take it. –He murmurs as he continues to fuck you into the night.

Mammon

The second-born was in his room, probably counting money or worshiping his credit card. But recently you began feeling left out and replaced by that forsaken credit card. So you decided that it was your time to shine. The plan was to take Mammon's attention away from Goldie. So you looked around your room, wondering what to do. You remember that the demon had left his jacket in your room the last time he was with you and you get a mischievous idea. You grip the jacket, throwing it on your bed before stripping down from your clothes and putting on the jacket. Your naked form in his jacket should get his attention, right? Yeah of course it will, why are you even questioning it? You proceed to rush over to the demon's room and barge in through the door to see him sitting on the couch, toying with his credit card just as you had expected.

-Maaammmoooonnnnn!!!! –You speak. Your voice startles the demon, causing him to drop credit card to the floor. He moves his gaze to you.

-Yo, human! What's the big idea... –His eyes widen to the sight of you - bare, only wearing his jacket. His cheeks take a shade of pink and he rushes to your side, shutting the door closed and locking it a few times.

-MC... What's all this?! Why are ya like this?! –He says and wraps his arms, pulling you into an embrace to feel the warmth of your body against his own.

-You've been spending too much time thinking about money and that credit card of yours that I feel left out.. so I decided to get your attention back to me.. –You murmur and wrap your hands around him, returning the embrace.

-Ya could've just asked! You needn't barge in like that! –He speaks as his hands begin wandering all over your body.

-And MC.. you will get all my attention, ya know? Since ya got me all worked up... –He murmurs and walks you over to the couch, pushing you down, before quickly stripping off his own clothes and joining you. He immediately begins kissing you all over your face, lips, and neck. Touching and squeezing every part of your body he could reach. Grunting and moaning before you even got to touch him..

-Mammon.. –You whine his name and he hums in response.

-Yeah? –He breathes and begins grinding against you. His cock moving against your thigh.

-I need you.. please... –You whine and the demon nods before entering you with a low groan.

-Fuck, MC.. ugh. Jesus.. if I knew that's how you'd feel I'd give up Goldie every day! –He begins thrusting in and out of you with different intensities. Hard and fast.. slow and gentle.. Rough and loving. Just as the Avatar of Greed had always been. His dick hits all the right spots inside you and you moan alongside him as you make love with him in a sinful rhythm.

Leviathan

You and the third-born decided to play games together so you were heading to his room. When you knocked there was no answer. You said the secret phrase but nothing happened. So you pushed the door open and didn't see Levi in his room. You looked around to make sure and sighed upon seeing his room empty, without him. You sat on his gaming chair when you suddenly got an idea. You walked up to his closet and grabbed one of his favourite merch t-shirts. You took your clothes off and tossed them to the side before putting in his T-shirt and a pair of headphones. Not long after the demon came back to his room and when he saw you standing there, with nothing on other than his T-shirt and headphones he blushed heavily.

-M-M-MC.. Y-y-you.. –Hd stutters and you chuckle.

-Come on. We were going to game together weren't we? –You ask and invite him to come sit beside you in front of the console. Leviathan hesitantly walker over to you and sat beside you. You handed him the first controller and he took with trembling hands. But the thing was that he couldn't take his eyes off of you. The way you had sat down was exposing your bare pussy, making the demon shift in his seat. You notice that and let out a subtle chuckle.

-Levi? Is everything okay? –You ask and look at him with a mischievous gaze.

-Y-y-your... you know what.. is sh-showing... –He stammers out and screams, looking away from you to hide his flushed face.

-What, you don't like it..? –You ask, in a teasing tone, taking Levi's hand in yours.

-I... I.. uhm.. I.. –The third-born stutters and you bring his hand to your heat, pressing his fingers against yourself and letting out a soft moan. The demon freezes but soon enough gaining the courage to move his fingers, enough to give you pleasure. You whine softly and move your body, to sit over on his lap. You look down at his flushed face and lean in to kiss him passionately on the lips. Levi lets out a hesitant moan and you chuckle.

-M-M-MC... I.. I.. n-n-need y-you.. –You smile at his words and raise from his lap to pull down his sweatpants before settling yourself onto his cock. Both of you groan in pleasure and you begin moving your body up and down, riding him. The demon's cheeks flush but that doesn't stop him from moaning and whining, while recieving pleasure from your actions. His cock was filling you up, giving you an overwhelming amount of pleasure as you worked him in and out. The rest of the night you and Levi spend making love to each other.

Satan

The fourth-born had invited you to the library to read books together but the thing was you weren't exactly in a mood to read books. Though you couldn't decline Satan's offer since you hardly got to spend time with him this way. But you had a different idea of spending time with the demon. You smirked to yourself as you walked over to his room, opening the door and heading straight over to his closet. You take one fluffy sweater and cat ears that you found on the bottom of one of the drawers. You take your clothes off, throwing them over on his bed and putting the sweater and the cat ears on. You made sure to look at yourself in the mirror to check how you looked before heading to the library. Upon seeing the fourth-born you smirk mischievously.

-Oh Saaaataaaaannnn!!! –You call out of him and he turns his head to look at you. When he noticed how you looked he immediately blushed.

-Aw, MC.. look at you.. looking all adorable like that.. Mmmm come 'ere, kitten.. –You bite your lower lip and let out a subtle chuckle before walking up to Satan. He immediately pulled you down on his lap and caressed your back.

-Such a sweet surprise, MC.. Thank you.. –He mutters and wraps one arm around you while putting the other on your thigh. He gently dragged his hand up your thigh, moving it to your inner thigh. The Avatar of Wrath's hand freezes as he feels you completely bare underneath his sweater.

-Hm? MC? What's this, kitten? Did you forget your panties? –He asks and moves his hand further, gently tracing the outline of your pussy. You whine softly before speaking.

-I didn't wear them..

-Purposely? –Satan asks with a mischievous look on his face and you nod.

-Awh you naughty, naughty kitten. You had no intentions of reading did you? –The demon continues to pleasure you with his fingers and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, trying to suppress a moan. The fourth-born chuckles and picks up the pace.

-Seems like I was right.. –The demon mumbles, making you let out another moan. With that he groans along with you and unzips his pants, taking out his cock.

-Here, kitten... Please me...–You look over at Satan and bite your lip before nodding and taking his cock into your hand, stroking it gently at first put soon enough picking up the pace. The demon groans and throws his head back in pleasure. After the first set of orgasms Satan carries you over to his room and continues making love to you in a more private place.

Asmodeus

You and the fifth-born were doing skincare in his room. There were quite a lot of steps 'for achieving perfect skin' as he said. You had free time and would never say not to some skin therapy since acne has been bothering you lately. Asmo was gentle with your skin, gently massaging the product in before the skin absorbs it. Brushing your hair and leaving tiny kisses to your shoulder or neck while peeling off a face mask away from your face. Suddenly you felt something change. A sudden shift in mood. Not that it was bad though.. but it wasn't the time.. you were doing skin care.. not preparing to have sex.. after some time you realise you cannot take it anymore..

-Asmo, I'll go to the bathroom for a second. –You say, standing up from your chair.

-No problem, hon! Take your time. –He responds and shoots you a gentle smile before entering his bathroom. You were walking around, wondering what to do and how to satisfy this desire when an idea came to mind. You quickly stripped from your clothes and pulled his towel from the hanger, wrapping it around yourself, before exiting the bathroom. Upon seeing you the demon's expression immediately changes from gentle and soft to lustful and mischievous.

-MC? What's that now? Getting more comfortable are we? –He asks and you nod happily, sitting back in your seat. Asmodeus moves his chair closer to yours and drags his fingers over the skin of your thighs.

-Gosh, MC.. you always know how to turn me on.. –He hooks his fingers into your towel, gently removing it from your body, admiring your naked form.

-And you never cease to amaze me either.. you look fascinating.. –The fifth-born bites his lip and leaves a gentle kiss to your shoulder, while dragging his hands all over your body ever so gently but enough to leave a burning trace behind each finger that touches your skin. After a short while the demon stands up, taking off his own clothes and pulling you on top of himself on the bed. Kissing you passionately and his hands wandering all over your body as he enters you gently, provoking a soft gasp out of you. You feel his cock stretch you out in every way imaginable, reaching all the right places over and over again as the demon thrusts in and out of you. And so as the night continues Asmodeus continues making love to you however he pleases while whispering dirty things to your ear. Praising you or telling you how naughty you were.

Beelzebub

It was late at night. Everyone in the House of Lamentation was sleeping except you and Beel. The demon was hungry while you just forgot to check the time while listening to music. Suddenly you get a notification on your phone and you check to see that the sixth-born was inviting you to have a midnight snack with him if you were awake. You wondered whether to go or not but finally decided to do it. Though you for sure knew that you weren't hungry for food. You were hungry for the sixth-born himself. You walked up to your closet and saw a tank top that Beelzebub had left there a couple of days ago while your workout together so you took it. Taking off your clothes you put the tank top on and walk over to the kitchen to see the demon of Gluttony already eating something from the fridge. When he saw you his eyes widened and he nearly dropped what he was eating to the floor. You smile at him.

-Hey, Beel. –You say and walk up to him, feeling his gaze following your every step.

-MC.. –He murmurs and reaches out to touch your shoulder.

-Is this my tank top? –He asks and you nod.

-Yeah. You left it in my room a few days ago.. I thought it was a great occasion to give it back to you. –You answer and shoot a mischievous gaze to the sixth-born.

-But you're wearing it.. how am I supposed to take it...? –Beel asked, finishing his food and grabbing something else from the fridge without tearing his gaze away from your body.

-Take it off of me. If you want it.. –You say and smirk while the demon smiles and nods greedily, before hooking his fingers inside the fabric and pulling the tank top off of you, leaving you completely bare. His eyes widen. The demon wasn't expecting you to be completely naked underneath.

-MC... You are.. –He whispers and you nod.

-Do you like it? –You ask, looking over at the demon with a hopeful gaze.

-MC, you are so beautiful.. –He whispers and shoves the rest of the food in his mouth, devouring it in one bite, before wrapping his arms around you. You look around the kitchen and upon seeing the whipped cream you get a naughty idea. You reach for it and spread some over your chest all the way down to the heat between your legs. You shoot the demon a lustful gaze and he returns it.

-Can I lick it off of you..? –Beel whispers and you nod.

-That's the point... –You answer as the demon hungrily leans down, licking the cream off of you. His movements are gentle but pleasing, as each and every move of his makes you shiver and sends pleasure all over your body. Not long after he gets on his knees and licks the whipped cream from your cunt as well. Though he doesn't stop there. He continues lapping his tongue over your clit and entrance, telling you how delicious you were. He delves within you as you moan in ecstasy. You and Beelzebub proceed to spend a steamy moment in the kitchen before going back to your room together.

Belphegor

The seventh-born had invited you to cuddle with him in the attic so when you got out of RAD you rushed home, throwing your backpack to the side, taking a quick shower and going back to your room. But when you began putting clothes on an idea came to mind. You smile mischievously and wrap a towel around yourself rushing to the twins' room. Thankfully Beelzebub wasn't there so you could walk around freely. You reach the youngest's bed and throw the towel on it before grabbing his body pillow and holding it close to your body. You quickly make your way to the attic and enter the room where you see Belphegor laying on the bed.

-Belphieeeee~ –You whine and he mumbles while moving his gaze towards you. Upon seeing you his eyes widen and he bites his lip. The sleep washes away from his face and mischief replaces it.

-Oh MC? Naked are we? What an amazing surprise. Though you brought my body pillow.. what for? –He asks and you look around the room as if checking for someone else before speaking.

-Too make things more interesting. Where is the fun in just barging in completely naked and exposed? –You say and look at him while he looks you up and down.

-You might be right actually.. this does make things more exciting in a way.. –The demon speaks and walks up to you.

-But the pillow has to go. It's preventing me from my view, MC. –He said as he snitched the pillow away from you and threw it across the room. He pulled you towards him, wrapping his arms around you and leaning down to whisper to your ear.

-You are beautiful.. –He breathes and begins kissing his way down your neck, leaving one or two love bites, before walking over to the bed and pushing you on it. You look at him as Belphie takes off his own clothes and climbs on top of you, continuing to kiss you. His hands wander all over your body in a way that every touch, every trace is giving you pleasure. You quirm underneath him and he smiles.

-You like that? –He asks and you respond by nodding your head yes. He chuckles and aligns himself with your entrance before speaking.

-Then I'm going to make it even better. –He whispers before entering you with a swift motion and a quiet groan. You moan softly as you feel his cock entering you. You can feel every curve.. every inch moving inside you as he fucks you slow and deep, whispering sweet things to your ear, bringing you to ecstasy over and over again.

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pinescent-and-gingerbread · 5 months ago

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✧Night Moths

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: Arthur has a simple task to do, searching for any lead possible at the Mayor's party. Only problem? You also have a job of your own. Based on “The Gilded Cage” ✦ Warnings/tags: guns, strangers to…sinners?, SMUT 18+, reader is part of a St Denis gang, cover names used at first, smoking, Arthur is extremely horny and a little rough with you (you pushed his limits), cursing, outdoor sex, fingering, tits play, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v ✦ Words: 9,8k ✦ a/n: YES. I KNOW. This is super long. I have absolutely zero excuse. I feel like this is my best piece yet, but I'm so nervous about posting it! Once again, a big thank you to the incredible @zae-heeyyy, my jedi master, my confidence-booster and patience Queen, who beta-read this big baby and helped me so much with so many things, as always. (Go check her blog I'm begging you)

Glasses are twinkling and clinking all around you. Words are spoken, laughs are let out, champagne drank.

You're leaning against one of the stoned garden walls, fancy decor of the Mayor's house, the perfectly cut bushes looking just as fresh and neat as every guest at this party. You can hear the distinguished music coming from a quartet playing under a gazebo a few meters away from you, and smell the fresh air of the night blending with aromas of flowers, expensive alcohol, hint of vanilla and sweet scents hiding a stronger note of sweat and cologne. Around you, all the richest, wealthiest, and noteworthiest of people in St Denis. You can hear them talk; their conversation as dull and superficial as an empty chrysalid, an abandoned cocoon emptied from all substance, from all interest and life.

You hated those kinds of discussions. Hated those kinds of people, the ones that have the easiest and simplest life one could ever have; being fed, being cared for, even being told what to think and do. You almost envied them in a way, they didn't have to worry about a single thing apart from losing their power. It seemed comfortable somehow, worry-free. The exact opposite of what you had always known.

And yet, you had to bear with them. A very specific task had been assigned to you by your gang. A simple job, one you were often sent off to as you had grown by the years into a great thief and a terribly efficient shapeshifter; blending into any type of party, or gathering, always making a good impression, putting people at ease. You were now an expert at this little game, especially with rich men. They were all the same, always wanting more, demanding the same thing from you. You had learned how to play with their greediness and lust to turn it into your advantage, saloons becoming your jungle as you sneaked easily between your prey to rob them, a deadly and redoubtable leopard in a world of apes.

You needed to steal some important documents from the mayor's office. The main informer of your gang had specified it was a pretty strong lead, and that you could gain a lot from it; something to do with Leviticus Cornwall's dirty deeds with the mayor, a blackmail opportunity.

Your boss had decided to send you, knowing you would easily integrate the party, and even more easily steal the documents. So here you were, feline eyes looking all around you, scanning, observing, evaluating. You couldn't just come, steal the papers, and go; it would have been too suspicious. All the contrary, you needed to be seen and leave a good impression like you always did, maybe stay for a couple of hours, and then smoothly retrieve your goal before disappearing in the secrecy of the dark night. A flamboyant, harmless butterfly… on the surface.

You sighed, trying to pay attention to what was being said to you. Right in front of you, a middle-aged man was talking, explaining something about how he had acquired his incredible wealth. His speech was sadly boring, his eyes glum, his clothes basic, his face awfully bland.

The empty chrysalis in all its gloomy glory.

You forced yourself to nod and give the man a charming smile. This was your job. You had to at least do it properly. Why was tonight a lot harder than the others? Were you frightened to be right under the Mayor's nose, fooling him into his own home? Were you tired, or sick?

In a way, you were. Sick of this life, of this constant pretending, of being here listening to the literal hollow vessel bragging about himself, sick of needing to appear actually interested, charmed even.

Suddenly, the music coming from the quartet is too loud, sharp violin blending with his words, making you even less focused. You were here for too long already, you needed a break and to finish your mission.

You politely interrupted the stranger, placing a gentle hand on his forearm, a gesture that you had noticed was prompt to soften most men. Along with your most charming smile, you excused yourself from him and quickly walked to a less crowded area, praying that no one would interrupt you.

You made your way up to the exterior stairs of the luxurious mansion just before the patio door and windows, and stopped on top of them, placing your hands on the central low wall, between two Greek columns. Another fancy facade, the house itself was just an imitation from another culture. Did any of these fools have any personal identity at all?

From here, you had a good view of the whole party. Countless fake smiles, masks, a literal scene of a play that could have its place at the Théâtre Râleur. A play of pale phantom shells.

You reached for your purse, taking a cigarette out, mindlessly putting it between your lips. Maybe smoking would help. You searched for a match, silently cursing realizing you hadn't any left.

"Ya need some fire, Ma’am?"

A deep voice said behind you, making you turn, surprised. It was unusual for people to startle you, your ears had been trained to notice the faintest of footsteps in order to survive.

You got even more surprised considering who had talked. A man was standing before you. He was taller, and largely wider than you, his black suit struggling to contain what looked like a well-built body; which made you wonder how could he have been so quiet. His shoulders especially looked way broader than the men you had the habit of running into at those sorts of gatherings. A very classical white bow looked like it was strangling him. His black tailcoat and white jacket looked larger too, making you wonder how much did he had to pay for the tailor to sew them custom-made.

His hair had a soft indescribable color, somewhere between a light brown and a sandy blond. His face, the work of a brutal draftsman, rough edges and strong squared jaw gratified with some scars. One on his chin, another on his nose, nose that seemed broken now that you were thinking about it. It looked like the artist that had drawn this man had sharpened his pencils too much and traced lines in a hurry, piercing through the canvas, his features ending up rugged and scared, some trace of graphite shrapnel that would have damaged the portrait.

What disturbed you the most were his eyes. They looked out of place considering how robust his features were. One could have expected them to be dark, black even. But they were the exact opposite, their bright and soft indigo color leaving you disarmed, two sapphires locked on your own pupils.

He was handing you a match, and you slowly took it, your fingers slightly discovering how his palm felt under them. Firm, calloused. Another stone-like feature of him.

He looked like those Greek statues carved by artists. His beauty so singular and yet enticing. So different.

"Why, thank you, kind sir." You showed your gratitude to him with a grin, lighting the match by simply rubbing it against the cold stone of the fence, a little flame appearing instantly. You brought it to your mouth, the cigarette finally catching fire, and you breathed in.

"Ya don't smoke much?" He questioned, voice deep. You hadn't noticed how deep it was the first time, nor how pronounced his accent was, dragging and drawling every word, a slow melody of his own.

"Not too often, indeed." You informed him. It was the truth, you were basically just smoking during jobs to blend in more easily, most people doing it. It was an easy way to start a conversation with anyone. Just like he had done with you, you noted.

"Needed a break from high society?" He inquired, a sarcastic tone in his voice.

"I guess you could say that." You answered, exhaling a long drag of smoke.

You were now completely turned to face him, your cigarette making back and forth from your mouth to the air where you tossed the burned ashes with a little movement from your thumb to the cigarette’s end. Your motions were elegant, distinguished but looked natural. It caught his interest.

"What's your name, sir?" You spoke again, curious about this uncommon newcomer.

"Tacitus Kilgore. What is yours, Ma'am?" He asked you back before placing himself on your left, both of you leaning on the low fence of the patio.

You contained a chuckle. There was no way in the World this man was named like this. You knew something was odd about him. The scars, his knuckles redden and subtly wounded as if had fought recently. His strong stature, miles away from a lazy bourgeois being served, his wild hair longer than the actual trendy haircut, his stubble fitting more a countryman than an actual St Denis gentleman.

Years of playing with people and observing them had made your eyes alert and expert, and you could see when someone was pretending.

When someone was playing a role just like you were, not belonging into this World.

"Rose Schultz." Of course, it wasn't your real name either. You had to be a really poor thief to give him your actual one. He didn't react to it though, his face impassible just like the start of your whole conversation.

Apart from this vague feeling you had about him not being a rich gentleman, you found trouble in reading his emotions. His facial features were closed, impenetrable, mysterious. This also disturbed you as you had the habits of figuring men out right away; he on the other hand was a whole challenge by himself, his intentions hidden behind an emotionless face. This man probably was a champion at poker.

"Nice t' meet ya, Missus Schultz. Are you, erm, hidin' from someone here? Or jus' judgin' everyone from your perch?" He went on with a more amused voice.

"Just know that I'm not the type to hide from someone, Mister." You replied, a little grin curling up your lips.

"Yeah, you sure don't look like it..."

"You wanna know what I think you look like, Mister?"

"Go ahead."

"A wild horse who's trapped, and can't wait to be freed again."

Silence. His eyes stared deeply into yours, stabbing you in sharp blue flashes of Apatite, as keen as the blade of a knife. After just a few seconds, you finally see his mouth moving, his cold expression changing as a slight grin made his way between the stillness of his features.

"You sort of a witch or somethin' ?" He asked you, amused once again. His little smile is even more evident in his eyes, his lower eyelids crinkling slightly in amusement.

"Maybe." You answered cockily, feeling more at ease with him now that he was slightly more open.

Still, there was something that was making you feel weak in the knees; maybe it was his tall stature, his strong build, or the palpable tension you could feel beaming out from him, as if he was ready to jump on someone who would have crossed him at any second.

In a way, you liked it. It was almost exciting.

"I better not mess wi’chu then. Don't wanna end up cursed or somethin'." He joked, features relaxing, body leaning slightly more against the low wall in a more comfortable position.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare. You also look like the type of man you don't wanna mess with..."

"I'm surprised how well you already know me, darlin'." He admitted, internally enjoying your conversation more and more.

Your heart swelled at the surname. It felt so good in your ears, it sounded better than from any person who ever said it to you. You wanted to hear it again. You wanted to hear him say it just to you.

"I'm kinda talented at figuring people out." You simply replied, before taking another drag at your cigarette.

"I too. And I also think you're not here to jus' play nice with everyone and enjoy yourself." He suddenly confessed to you with a knowing gaze, eyebrows raising as if he was trying to make you understand something.

He knew too. You both knew you weren't from this world, like two predators from the same species, recognizing themselves, circling, judging, from one individual to another. Your breath stopped for a very short time, nobody could have noticed it, but somehow you were sure he did.

"Don't ya worry little "rose", I won't tell no one..."

You didn't miss how he was playing with your false name. On top of being astonishingly handsome, he had some spirit…

He's still looking intensely into your eyes. "In return, I expect you to do the same...", he added in a low voice, his tone firmer and even more resonant than earlier.

A threat. His presence only intimidates you, and it's working so well that you're almost sure he must be an expert in terrorizing too. He must be one hell of a weapon all by himself.

You slowly nodded your head, trying to swallow as naturally as possible to look unphased.

"Guess we have a deal here, "Tacitus"." You emphasized his name, making it clear you're more than doubtful about it being real too.

It made him laugh, and you almost lost it at the sound of it. It was as deep, raw, and genuine as his entire being seemed to be. You loved it. You loved it too much.

Exhaling some smoke, you noticed he had pulled out a cigarette too and had joined your smoking, holding it between his thumb and index finger. You had mixed feelings for this man. He was just as intimidating as he was enticing, and you let your curiosity win the best of you as you carried on your conversation with him.

"I hate it here." You suddenly confessed.

There was no point in playing anymore, and even if you didn’t really know why you had told him that, a part of you felt like maybe, just maybe, he could have understood you.

"Yeah, I get what ya mean. Sometimes I think that those people are jus'… reptiles in fancy clothin'."

You had seen right. Your chest felt light, as if he had lifted a weight in you with just those simple words.

"I just want to be anywhere else but here. Somewhere nicer, more authentic. Like in Big Valley..." You went on with your regrets.

"You too know about this place uh? Yeah, I can picture ya picking flowers in Lil’ Creek..."

This time it was your turn to chuckle, your laugh creating a little puff of smoke in the air. Was he being serious or just teasing you? You didn’t really care. Now, you felt like something special was linking you both as you knew exactly where this spot was, a happy memory brought back in your mind thanks to his words. The wild and fresh river, the meadows covered in thousands of violet flowers, the snowy mountains in the background.

Your cristal-clear laugh made him smile back at you.

"So... What does a woman like you is actually doing here, then?" He asked you, his eyes roaming all along your body while he did.

You were glad you had put on the prettiest dress you had, its dark burgundy color matching perfectly the tone of your skin, and its generous cleavage showing a delicious amount of your chest, underlined by a black translucent shawl covering your shoulders and twirling around your arms. You were offering a tempting sight for every man. You knew he had looked at it, his eyes lingering there had almost burned your skin, sent a warm feeling between your tights, and made your hand hold your cigarette tighter.

"You really thought it would be that easy, Mister?" You answered with another cheeky grin, looking at him with a sensual gaze, your words let out in a languorous whisper, knowing damn well he was trying to gain information, probably to probe if he could get something out of it for himself. "You really thought I would just confess everything to you about myself and what I'm doing here, just because you've got a firm tone and pretty face?"

He let out a dry single chuckle, his cigarette hanging in the air, smirking some more. This damn smirk, it was making you have more and more inappropriate thoughts about this man. The wildness, the dangerousness he was emitting should have made every girl flee, but you, all the contrary, were attracted by it like a moth to a flame.

Or maybe he was the Moth. Maybe he was the beautiful, singular, and ephemeral Moth in the world of chrysalides you were searching for all along.

"Oh trust me, I could make you spit out everythin' I want, Miss." He replied to your taunting words with the serious threatening tone he had used before. "Could make this pretty mouth behave..." He added, looking right into your soul, bending slightly towards you.

You felt like the tension was about to make your whole body burst. There was something between you two, you were sure he could feel it too. A sinuous, dark creature swimming and circling incessantly under the surface of a frozen lake; waiting, craving to be unleashed, to break the thin layer of ice that was keeping it caged.

He was inviting you to measure yourself to him. Bent towards you, wanting you to close the other half of the space between you both. A challenge, or a mark of respect, the case you didn’t want to venture into this territory.

But truth was, you wanted to. You wanted to break the ice yourself, you wanted to just kiss him, right here, right now.

Of course, it was a bad idea. And you were a professional, on a mission.

Instead, you put your hand on his bicep and brought your head inches away from his, not closing the space between your mouths. You’re accepting this silent fight, excited to show him what you’re capable of. You’re enveloped by his strong scent; your lips so close to his. You can see by his widening smirk how delighted he is you didn’t change your mind nor lost your guts. Responding to your bold move, he slowly snaked an arm around your waist. His hand landed on your lower back, just on the verge of being offensive.

Both of you stayed like this for a moment, your breath mixing, merging in a dangerous and exciting cocktail, but neither of you actually crossing the limit.

He could sense just how close he was to though, his muscles were tensed under your fingers, his forehead almost resting on yours with a light frown on it. You could see in his impassive handsome face a whole new emotion.

Pure, raw lust.

"You're such a temptatious, thorny rose..." He mumbled in a hot whisper against your lips, the warmth between your legs now burning like a wildfire. Your pussy was aching for him, and you couldn't hold it anymore.

You felt his body twitching as he was going to finally do it, finally break the ice of the frozen lake, finally let his impulses and needs break free, his unholy, deep, atrociously torturous desires-

"Ah, Arthur !" A relieved voice interrupted both of you and he immediately let go of you, his head snapping to look at the man who had talked, eyes widening.

A tall gentleman with a perfectly cut mustache as black as his long curly hair and hat was looking at your companion with a contained, amused smile.

"Will you excuse us, Miss?" He said unctuously to you, his voice polite and charming.

It was more of a statement than a question. He quickly took one of your hands and put a polite kiss on it before bending slightly towards you, as a gentleman would, and looked at your opponent with an insistent gaze.

Arthur was fulminating. He wasn't actually showing it, his face had come back to its usual cold, emotionless expression. But you could feel from where you were the unbearable tension and frustration that was dripping from his body language, almost as a halo of warmth you could physically touch with your hands. He took a last look at you, eyes expressing a mix of regret and bitterness.

"Goodnight, Miss." He coldly greeted you, walking next to you to follow his friend and go down the stairs, his shoulder brushing against yours while doing it.

"Goodnight, Arthur..." You answered him emphasizing his name once again, making it really clear that you remembered it was not the one he had given you and that you were pretty proud you had seen right. A playful, teasing grin on your face, you look one last time at him before he vanished in the ocean of guests.

Your Butterfly had disappeared just as quickly as he had materialized; leaving you alone with the empty cocoons once more. It was more than time for you to do your job and get out of here. Your cigarette finished, now feeling cold between your fingers, you tossed it away and headed into the mansion, feeling just as frustrated as so-called Arthur.

Arthur was pissed. He had never felt so frustrated in ages, and it was making his thoughts even less easy to discipline. His cigarette was on the verge of being smoked all at once from how intense he was getting and how heavy his breath had turned, the end of it constantly burning in a red shining little point as he was walking.

This whole year he had felt like he didn't have any control over anything anymore and he hated it.

He was already feeling embittered in his everyday life, Dutch listening less and less to his opinion, Micah sneaking around him more and more, Mary coming back to him just to ask him to help her goddamn father who had always treated him like shit.

On top of that, Dutch had made him look like an idiot using his actual name in front of you, making him wonder what was even the whole point of having a cover if he wasn't capable of sticking to it; which he had bitterly pointed out to him, but his superior had shrugged it off, seemingly happy to be here amongst the important people, looking as careless as ever.

Yes, Arthur was feeling frustrated, frustrated and tired of this. Tonight, instead of giving of himself, he wanted to take, for once. He needed to, even. He was about to before being interrupted, and this thought was gnawing at him from the inside.

He was barely paying attention to what Dutch was saying to him and the others once Hosea and Bill had joined them. All he could see was your insanely beautiful face, your inviting lips, the perfect outline of your breasts from your cleavage, like engraved into his pupils.

The way you were talking, charming and teasing, the way you were smoking, all of this dreadfully turning him on during all your conversation. He had made an enormous amount of effort in order not to just kiss you.

He had joked about you being a witch, but it was the only explanation: you had bewitched him, threw your darkest, most sinful curse on him. Never in his life he had felt so attracted to someone after having talked with them for only such a short amount of time. What an insane fool he was.

On top of it, he was raging about the fact he probably wouldn't have the occasion to see you ever again. He had understood you clearly weren't just another rich man's wife, and he was certain you had given him a false name. His cock was throbbing terribly hurtfully in his pants, making his jaw clench, his brows frowning even more than usual. It was begging to be buried in you, between your legs, in your mouth, or your hands, even your breasts or your ass, anything but the cold feeling of nothingness he was feeling right now around it.

The sudden explosive sound and colorful lighting of fireworks had pulled him out of his blasphemous thoughts.

He understood Dutch was ordering him something about following one of the Mayor's domestic, and gladly obliged, relieved to have another thing to focus on. Something about Cornwall sending an important letter to Lemieux, which he had to steal. Nothing difficult, he had done those sorts of things countless times.

Nothing new.

Nothing puzzling, like you had been.

As he followed the man, eyes locked on his white suit from afar, he quickly took a glance at the patio to see if you were still there. You weren't. His dick ached as he let out a deep exhale. Damn it.

Arthur rapidly found himself inside the Mayor's house. His servant had entered what looked like an office. He waited a few seconds after the room had felt silent, behind the corner of the walls, just to be sure, and entered it.

The room was indeed an office, a little desk with an armchair on his left, bookcases covering every wall, simply illuminated by a flickering orange lamp. Everything looked normal, except for the dark figure of a person in the middle of the place.

You.

He recognized your sensual dress immediately and witnessed you shoving some papers in what looked like a leathered little pocket held around your right thigh by leathered straps, just like a holster would be. His mind raced, a million reflections flying under his eyes.

You were some sort of professional thief. And he didn’t have to be a genius to understand you had just taken the precise thing he was there for.

"That's why you were here, lil' rose?!" He asked you almost in disbelief, closing the door behind him.

You looked at him with a bold grin, looking almost amused by the situation. He, on the other hand, felt nothing but amusement. Anger, to have been fooled so easily, and that you had got ahead of him, losing the quiet game that had been played out between you. Envy, as you were now possessing two things he wanted to take away from you. Arousal, as his eyes were glued to the thigh that was now visible to his greedy eyes as you had pulled up your dress to put the sheets in your hidden pocket. Need, as his member felt hard again just by the sight of you doing it.

"Yeah, and you can only dream for me to give them to you if those papers were your target too, Arthur."

Damn, that teasing, cheeky mouth of yours. His fantasies came back in full force, and his gaze darkened. As temptatious as you were, he needed those documents. And he would do anything he had to to have them back.

"Give ‘em to me." He lowly ordered you, voice so severe you could have melted right into the carpeted floor of this damn office. But you didn't.

"Hell no."

"Give ‘em t’me, woman. I won't ask nicely a third time."

"If you want them, you'll have to catch me, pretty boy."

Lord, why was everyone so prompt to call him this way lately? He almost grunted at the way you had said it, and he would have lied if this time he didn't like it when it fell from your lips. He wanted to reply with something witty and even more threatening, but in a flash, you had opened the window, and easily jumped outside.

This Goddamn woman. What was she exactly? Some sort of feline? Yeah, probably a panther, agile, impressive, dangerous like one.

He instantly ran after you, jumping through the window too, landing in a loud thud. He quickly spotted your dress running away, escaping by the entry’s portal, then in the nearest street, disappearing behind St Denis's myriad of flashing lights.

How could he had missed it? His mind was filled with images of it.

He had the common decency of grabbing back his gun from the butler at the party's entry, making him almost fall on the ground as he hadn't slowed but had grabbed them while running, the poor man wondering what the Hell made both of these people in such a hurry.

He was now flying at full speed around the luxurious streets, following the faint glimpse of your dress's color at the corner of every turn. He felt like he could follow your scent like a hunting dog, your sweet and peachy perfume confirming him you had passed there before.

He had enough, feeling his restrain and manners crackling more and more into little pieces. You were making him feel like a damn animal, reducing his whole being to primal needs and functions. He should have been disgusted with himself for that. But all he could do right now was thinking about the damn documents hidden against your damn alluring thigh.

"Stop now, you Goddamn... Evil woman!" He tried to call you out, but you just wouldn't stop. He started firing at you, getting angrier and more fed up by the second, a bullet exploding a piece of the bricked wall right next to your head, some splinters cutting slightly the top of your ear.

You bent over to dodge his bullets one more time and you heard him cursing again loudly behind you. On top of being big, strong and clever, he was fast. In a quick movement of your feet, shaking them, you removed your shoes, unable to run at your fastest speed with heels. You continued your frenzied course, way more at ease.

Arthur rushed in where you were just mere seconds after you, noticing the shoes abandoned on the floor. What the Hell was even this woman, he asked himself for the second time this evening. Some sort of temptatious, dark retelling of Cinderella?

He almost made himself laugh at the thought, understanding your move because his own polished shoes were frankly a pain to run with, making him slip with every shift as if he was walking on soap and regret his good old boots, before acknowledging he had lost your trace.

Shit!

He looked all around him, his eyes scanning every inch, his breath rapid and sharp, his forehead and neck a pool of sweat. No signs of you, unless...

Something fell right on his face, but gently, as a caress from a fresh breeze. Your perfume filled up his nostrils and lungs and it made his heart race. He took it in his hands, the sensations pleasant under his fingerprints.

It was your black shawl.

Tilting his head up, he found you.

You were making your way up to the roof of the town by climbing on a thin ladder.

Arthur exhaled deeply through his nose like a buffalo. He was used to this kind of high-speed chase, but this was a whole new thing, which made him regret his lasso too, his hand searching for it on his belt out of habit but closing on nothing.

Damned party, damned suit, damned you.

He climbed after you, refusing to give up, enraged like a wild beast.

He would catch you, dead or alive.

In a way, this was making him even more aroused than any work-girl show he had ever seen.

"I'm going to kill ya, that's a promise!"

You could hear just how furious his voice was now, and you were starting to pray you would flee successfully from him, cause you knew he would eat you alive if he could get his hands on you.

Arriving on top of the building, you caught your breath for a microsecond, before searching for a way out, gaze frantic, heart beating out of your chest. You were considering climbing to another roof, but the deep, breathless sounds of your pursuer prevented you from doing more thinking.

Arthur had reached the top of the roof too, and was already aiming his gun at you. This time he didn't even bother to say anything, shooting at you again while getting up. He was so seething you wouldn’t have been surprised to see saliva bubbling from his mouth.

By divine intervention, you dodged again, and without any thinking, you ran all the way to the edge of the roof, and jumped.

You stayed in the air for a few seconds.

You felt like time had stopped, the air brushing against your skin, your heart hanging somewhere between the sky and the total void.

You landed on a fancy and illuminated balcony a few meters away. You hurt your feet and legs with the shock, but smiled proudly to yourself. You were out of reach, he was way bigger and way heavier than you, there was no way he coul-

A gigantic mass fell on you, as Arthur had proved you wrong and jumped from the roof you had just left and was crashing directly into you.

Both of you fell on the ground and struggled for a few seconds; you tried to resist him but it was a fight already lost, this literal force of nature easily handling you like he wanted.

You ended up lying on your back, Arthur sitting on you, towering over you with all his might, quickly grabbing your wrists to prevent you from fighting, his legs parted around your hips stopping you from escaping. You were trapped.

"You're a pain in the ass girl, you know that?!" He shouted at you, breathless, raging mad. You were both panting, sweating heavily. His face was entirely red, and your cheeks even more crimson.

You both looked at each other, eyes locked, and you stayed silent. The dark creature prowling under the thin floe had returned and it was getting bigger, stronger, out of control with each passing second. There was something extremely erotic in the way he was almost lying on top of you, both of you out of breath, sweaty, and burning red, both your hearts beating at full speed in the same erratic rhythm.

Just like before at the reception, you knew he could feel it too. You knew it from the dark gaze he was looking at you with, the shady swirls of the murky leviathan reflecting in the depths of his pupils, from the deepest well of his urges, forbidden territory to which no man ever had access.

A simple touch of his hand, that's all it took.

He put both of your hands into a single one of his, using his other one to pull up your dress, fingers roaming on your thigh.

You couldn't hold it anymore, you bent toward him and slammed your lips against his in the most powerful and decadent kiss you had ever shared with someone, almost biting him.

The moment you did, Arthur's mind exploded, and every poor drop of restrain he had evaporated as quickly as if it was on the Sun's surface. The beast had won, finally shattering the weak layer of ice into a million pieces; your two souls blending in what could have felt like a fevered dream.

The grunt he let out onto your kiss was animalistic, and the tension in his body just as powerful as a waterfall with a brutal, unstoppable current. The hand that was holding your wrist let go of it and slipped under your head, fingers in your hair, as his tongue licked against your lips, searching for a way in. You let him in, eagerly, wondering if he would have forced the way if you didn’t.

He tasted strong, as if to match his whole being, a powerful flavor of tobacco, merged with a faint trace of sweetness and bitterness from the champagne he had drank. Like if you were smoking the finest and strongest of cigars. It made you love it even more.

Abandoning all your restraints too, your hands wrapped around his neck and your hips started pushing up against his, even if you couldn't move much, his two muscular thighs keeping you grounded to the balcony's paved floor. It felt so cold against your back, contrasting with the heat Arthur was burning with, consuming, devastating, raging.

He growled again when he felt your movement under him. He needed more of you, right now. This whole seduction game, the adrenaline rose by the chase, your bold charming attitude, your insanely insolent beauty, it was making him insane. He roughly ripped off his bowtie with one hand, needing some air; it felt like you two were under the desert’s scorching sun, stifling, dazing.

The right hand he had on your thigh traveled even higher under your dress, devouring every inch of flesh it could, and his appetite was only getting worse the more he discovered you. He smoothly moved his legs from around yours to put himself between them, and you instantly, almost from instinct, hooked them around his hips.

The sudden contact of your blazing core against his equally hot bulge made you sigh in pleasure, and he loved it. Breaking your kiss for the first time since you had initiated it, he pulled back to look at you, his deep gaze devouring you, undressing you just by its stare.

“What’s your real name?” He asked you, voice hoarser than ever, demanding it from you.

You told him your name, limbs feeling like mush under his intense eyes. He repeated it quietly, like a prayer he would recite on his own. You felt less and less like the panther you thought you were, and more and more like he was the predator alone. In a shaking tone, you questioned back to know his full, real name, needing to know what words you’d have to whisper in gratitude when he would finally take what he wanted from you. To whisper, or shout to the Heavens.

“Arthur Morgan.” He let out, his lips quickly returning to their current addiction, your skin. The way they were attacking your neck didn’t have an ounce of control now, his mouth opening widely to almost take a whole bite of your flesh there, letting kisses everywhere it could.

“Tell me if you don’t want this.” He added against your skin, between two greedy open-mouth kisses.

A way to escape. The predator stilling, letting a way out. But you didn't wanted it. Not at all. Not now that he had surrendered to you, trusting you with the intimacy of his real name, that would be stuck in your mind for God knows how long.

“I want it.” You asserted, voice almost cracking with the weight of your need.

He moaned a relieved sound in answer, his nose exhaling some air that tickled your neck.

You weren’t even sure he could stop himself if you had said no. He was consuming you, and he felt completely drunk, as if you were coated with a powerful whiskey. Strong alcohol that his tongue was now licking all the way from your shoulder, up to your ear.

You moaned, the feeling of his hungriness so good and perfect on you.

"Gonna take care of ya now." He growled in a rumbling whisper, making your legs feel weak. Another one of his promises, but this one was going to give you salvation, and you were thanking him for keeping it.

The bold hand he had under your dress took another step towards insanity by landing on your undergarments, his thick fingers searching for a way in. You were trembling with anticipation. You couldn't even register the fact that you were really doing this, right now, with a complete stranger you had met only a few hours ago, and who wanted to kill you minutes before, on the balcony of what looked like a habited place.

The obscenity, the depravation, the boldness of it was only matched by his relentless thirst for you.

His fingers had finally pulled your underwear to the side, and you sighed seeing him on top of you, eyes drawn to your bare pussy, carnal features empathized by the obscurity of the night. The tip of his fingers traveled amongst your folds, wolves into the forest, a territory they were now claiming as theirs.

You almost begged for him, for the wolves to eat you up all and let nothing behind them, please Arthur, and he offered you this damnation, the desperate call of his name igniting another fire in his already infernal mind. A single, calloused finger pushed into your folds, making you spread your legs even more to grant it better access. It was stretching you pleasantly, his skin rough and firm inside. You started letting out sweet, quiet moans, showing him just how much you were enjoying this.

Your two hands now gripping his back, holding on for something, anything, his dark jacket suddenly feeling way too smooth to grab onto; you were wondering how touching his naked back could feel.

Arthur was doing everything in his power not to burst once more, grunting in response to your loving sound. Slowly, he pushed another one, thriving in how wet and hot your cunt felt around his fingers, craving for the moment he would finally be able to feel this downright perfection around his cock. He felt like he was ruining you, throwing you to these wolves, and you were thanking him for it.

For now, he focused on you, blue eyes glued on your face when he started curling his digits inside of you, searching for this so special, so delightful spot within your walls. He was observant, noticing every sound you were making, every muscle tensing, to know if it was the place you liked that he was brushing right now. Wanting it to be the place you liked most.

By adding his thumb on your clit and pushing a little deeper his index and middle finger in your desperate pussy, he realized he finally had found the Graill as your back arched against the ground, your own hands gripping harder on him, eyes shutting in pure pleasure.

"Oh, God! Yes, right there..." You rewarded him, voice high-pitched and filled with delight, a tingling sensation spreading on your legs and shoulders.

He exhaled deeply, your words making his own member gorging, pressing against the fabric of his suit that felt too small to contain him. He started pushing in and out, pulling a whine out of your throat with every movement, as the thick tip of his fingers rubbed against your sweet spot every time, wolves once again in a world of sweetness and honey, lapping your delight, feasting on your pleasure.

“Told ya I would make this pretty mouth behave…” He said cockily after one of your moans. He was enjoying this all too much, finally feeling in control again, being the one and only responsible for your ecstasy.

The distance between his mouth and you seemed to be unacceptable for him as he had succumbed once more to his needs, his lips finding your skin again, tongue tasting, teasing your chest this time, everywhere he could on the cleavage he had desired since the first time he had laid eyes on you tonight. Bent over to you, looking like a curved beast feasting on its prey.

You were feeling your pleasure building, Arthur’s face hungrily searching for one of your nipples under the neckline of your dress, and sucking it once he had finally found it. His teeth and nose had pulled your dress, freeing your entire left breast, bare, defenseless in front of him.

Maybe he was the wolf himself. He sure looked like it, his face a maw fed by your soft flesh.

Every nerve of your pussy screamed for deliverance, this familiar sensation taking form in your lower stomach. Your moans were becoming even more high-pitched, breathless, almost obscene, much to the outlaw's delight.

You had thought of him before being a terribly efficient and multi-functional weapon. You couldn’t have known just how right you had been, your hardening nipple still chewed by his mouth while his right hand was sending you to your edge, thumb skillfully circling on your clit faster and faster, the two other fingers tearing apart your sweet spot, in and out, in and out, again and again, until…

“A-Arthur, don’t stop, please!” Your voice slit the night open, tone pleading as if you were begging for your life.

“I won’t girl, it’s all okay… Give it t’me…” He encouraged you, even his breath feeling rough against the skin of your chest before he sucked hard on the skin of one of your breasts, accompanying you to your salvation.

It was enough to send you over your limit, your pussy clenching, throbbing, entirely consumed. You moaned so loudly it could have turned into a scream, hips jerking against his palm, his other hand quickly grabbing your hip to steady you and carry you through it as his fingers were dragging every last drop of your pleasure out of you.

“Yeahhh, that’s it gorgeous, just like that…”

He was frowning, the sinful sensations of your wet cunt coating his fingers in a warm slick and tensing around them making his eyebrow and jaw just as tensed, his face just a hint of how fucking riled up he was because of it.

Your head was still spinning and your breath uneven when he finally pulled his digits out of your walls, the fresh air replacing them. Lost in your haze, you weren't capable of doing anything else but looking at him through lidded, heavy eyes.

He was absolutely beautiful, even more than at the start of the night. His true nature out at last, his white fancy shirt disheveled now that he had removed his bowtie and soaked from efforts. Cheeks and throat as red as a sanguine sunset. Pearls of sweat sparkling on his burning skin with the Ocean of street lights of St Denis, reminding you of a night sky, making his sandy hair stick to his forehead in the hottest way possible.

You didn't knew how could all this had escalated so quickly, but at that moment, you felt like this man before you was your whole universe, his deep ultramarine eyes completing the stellar work of art he was, shining, shimmering, more than any star in the sky, as if the Gods had capture the entire Milky Way and imprisoned it in his being.

Arthur had ultimately pulled his cock out of his black suit pants, only piece of flesh out of his clothes, and your thoughts were immediately contradicted; there was no way any virtuous God could have made a man so depraved. He was the work of the Other Side, Lust and Temptation personified. King of the wolves, he could have had all the Hounds of Hell kneeling before him.

He pumped himself a few times, unable to resist the call his member had been screaming for hours, reinforced by the way his fingers had tasted your wet cavern. Some precum had already leaked from his big pinkish head when he was fingering you and was now glistening in the night, making you think about the stars again. Your breath got caught at this sight and you couldn't stop yourself from letting out a praise.

"Perfect..." You simply stated in a whisper, eyes glued to his throbbing, veiny member, relieved he had already pulled an orgasm out of you because there was no way he could have fit in you otherwise. Your eyes followed the dark path of his hair, from the glimpse you had on his chest between the open collar of his shirt, all the way down to his pelvis and at the base of his shaft.

You could only imagine what it looked like without any clothes on, and you were dying to know.

"Trust me, you're the perfect one, darlin'." He asserted, firm tone leaving little to contradiction.

He positioned himself in front of your entrance.

You weren't even completely back from the world your first relief had brought you to, and he was already at your door again. But this time, Arthur couldn’t stop himself.

He had given once again, just like always. Now he wanted to take. He needed to take. The starving, depraved wolf. Slowly pushing, teasing himself, making his cock’s head sink into your dripping territory, creating wet and soggy sounds, a hardened spear into honey.

He couldn't hold back a baritone moan, the feeling was even better than what he remembered. He hadn't taken the time or allowed himself to lay with a woman in ages, and God, what a return to this primal bliss.

He slowly moved some more, his hands spreading your legs a bit wider from around his waist to allow him to penetrate you more easily. Once you had entirely enveloped him, his tip deep inside, he let out another deep throaty grunt, the feeling making it hard for him to keep his thoughts clear.

"Ahh... Shit, darlin’... So tight…"

Considering how his length was stretching you, you bet he felt your pussy tight. The first word that came into your mind was “complete”. So complete with his huge cock inside of you; you felt like you could have died happily like this. One of your hands slipped from the top of his back to the lower part of it, just above his ass, pressing there, showing him just how much you wanted him to move, to let go.

Arthur didn't need much more as he pulled back slowly only to snap his hips back against yours, his cock pushing again all the way through your cunt in one hard single time, giving you another wave of pleasure as you both moaned together, unable to resist the intense sensation he was creating for both of you.

Hearing you whine, finally feeling your perfectly tight and warm pussy around him, it was making him lose all sense of restraint, and as your other hand ran through his hair, your angelic voice whispering his name as if he was your Lord and savior, he lost it.

He started to pull in and out of you faster, harder, your bodies colliding in a delicious way, obscene noises echoing through the silence of the darkness. His increase in pace made your body scream in pleasure and you buried your face into the crook of his neck under the collar of his shirt, biting his skin there.

It made him grunt loudly, and one of his hands roamed from your hips to your rear, grabbing a fistful of your ass in an instinctive response. His other hand was on the ground next to you, keeping him from crushing you against it. It made your head blank with pleasure.

"Shit, Arthur! M-more!" You begged, feeling like you could die if he stopped, your voice turning into high squeals.

"Anhh- God... More? Don’t worry girl, I'll g-give you more...-Mmh!"

His voice was heavy with pleasure, words cut off by moans and grunts you were delighted to hear, the most unholy and arousing music you had ever had the honor to listen to.

True to his words, he obliged, hips thrusting endlessly, member empaling you with each move. You could feel the flesh of his pelvis against yours with how deep he dived into you, and around it the stiffness of his suit, rubbing again the breast he had pulled out of your dress before, nipple sensitive after his previous treatment.

If what was between you was once a frozen lake, it had now turned into an Ocean of lava, magma exploding, engulfing both of you in the most burning and devastating passion you'd ever experienced, a volcanic explosion of desires.

The hand he had on your asscheek reluctantly let go of it, but you ended up thanking him for it, cause he was now using it to put your left leg above his shoulder, grabbing under your knee, allowing him to fuck you in an even better angle than before. He was ruining you once again, but this time felt like the pack of starving enraged wolves had taken him with you to consume him entirely.

You leaned against the floor, back of your head feeling the paved coldness, only hint that everything was actually real. Arthur's eyes locked with yours as he kept on fucking you hard and fast, this intimate contact making his member twitch.

You felt so goddamn good around him, and looked so goddamn gorgeous like this, your cheeky grin long gone, replaced by a delightful frown of pleasure, mouth open in a quiet scream. Arthur felt his peak coming dangerously close, but his pace hadn't slowed, his fat cock thrusting in and out of you. In and out, like a furious, sacred metronome. In an out, like a blessed psalm you'd both be reciting together.

“Come on girl, I know you have another, -Damn it!-, another one in ya. Give it to me, come on, jus’ for me…”

Words and voice drowned in a flood of pleasure and curses, of deep grunts and growls, his possessiveness sending you over the edge once again, your inside closing its trap around him, squeezing just how he needed to.

His eyes shut close, eyebrows furrowing in utter pleasure as he sank so hard and deeply you could have felt him splitting your guts in half, his dick throbbing and harder than ever. It reached a spot so deep and good inside of you, burning it, your pleasure bursting as you felt your orgasm coming for the second time.

"A-Arthur!" You cried out as you came around him, creaming him, walls clenching in a delicious sensation that made him reach the stars.

"God, damn it!" He shouted, voice deeper and rougher on the curse word before quickly removing himself from you in a flash of lucidity, finishing messily, cum spilling from his red sensitive member in white spurts that ended up right on your belly as a feral, powerful growl escaped his chest and his head tilted backward, letting you see his throat covered in sweat and veins.

For a moment, both of you had turned into beasts, shattered all the limits, broke all the shackles, diminishing you into your more primitive instincts. The Wolves of Lust had devoured your being into the very last delicious bone.

And that’s how you felt. Boneless.

Now, stillness. A cold breeze enveloped the pair of you, the only sounds now being the distant agitation of the city and your pantless breaths. He slowly brought his chin back down and opened his eyes, mesmerized by the sight of you returning from the realm of pure pleasure he had provided for you for the second time.

He felt powerful. He felt good. Better than he had for months, finally satisfied. Like a God, a King. King of all the Wolves, Cerberus, the only guardian of your unholy realm.

He wanted to do this again with you, as soon as possible.

He carefully put his softening dick back in its clothed cage, fingers fumbling with the buttons of his pants as he felt completely spent, his hands shaking slightly. He wanted to help you get cleaned up, but you had already brushed what you could of his release off your dress.

It would probably leave stains on your clothing nevertheless.

A twisted, dark part of him, the part that came from the same pit as the dark creature and the Wolves, felt almost aroused and proud at the thought you would keep an imprint of him on it. This part was relishing noticing the big ruby mark it had left on your breast as you were putting it back under your neckline; he grinned to himself knowing it would make your memories of him more difficult to forget.

He didn't want you to forget.

He slowly got up, offering you his hand to help you stand. You quickly put back your dress in its usual state, and wiped the sweat off your forehead. A silence settled between you two, thousands of questions floating in the air, but none of you ready to ask them out loud yet.

Finally, as you started shivering, only realizing now how cold this night was without Arthur's burning hot body on top of you, he spoke, voice even hoarser from having pushed on it too much, accent making every world sound heavy when they fell from his mouth.

"When can I see you again?" More than a demand, a promise. An order even. Cerberus needs his territory.

You already knew he kept them; his promises. Except for the one he had made to kill you. But in a way, he did, because you felt like you wouldn’t be able to ever feel so alive again without him.

Like a condemnation.

"You won't."

Certainty in your voice. But he didn't mind it. He had already broken you before.

"Oh, but I think I will, darlin'." Was all he said before stepping over the fence of the balcony, ready to jump off it. Before doing it, he pulled something out of his jacket and waved it at you.

The fucking papers.

A lightning of understanding and panic struck you; what you had thought was a lustful touch on your thigh, the one that had set everything on fire between the both of you, that had unleashed the Wolves, was in reality his sneaky hand retrieving the document from your hidden pocket.

Shit!

He gave you his cocky grin, blue gaze sparkling with mischief, greeting you with a two finger’s salute then jumped, disappearing in the night, away from you once again. You could have gone after him, as much as your weak and spent body would have allowed you to, but somehow, after all that he had done to you tonight, you felt like he had well deserved those damned letters.

tagging: @a-court-of-valkyries credits: Arthur's pic is not mine, belongs to fv8tt on Pinterest. Dividers and little moths doodle by me.

I reall hope you liked this one! I'm thinking about writing another part where the reader could confront Arthur again... Tell me if you'd like that! -Pine 🌱

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