#he knew what he was doing the entire time

[starryjake]

nightmares | s.j

in which you have a nightmare and seek comfort from your roommate.

pairing: jake x fem!reader

includes: nipple play, pussy eating, sleepy sex, unprotected sex (lmk if i missed anything).

it was childish, you knew: to be so afraid of a dumb nightmare that you had to go to your roommate for comfort.

but there you were, absolutely petrified. you laid flat on your back in your bed, not moving a muscle because you were so afraid. it didn’t help that it was storming outside either, the occasional cracks of thunder and lightning making you shiver.

when you checked the time on your phone, it read 2:19 a.m.

you briefly wondered if your roommate, jake, would be awake. it was dumb to even consider it because you knew he cherished his sleep, so he would definitely be passed out with it being that late.

even though you knew that, you still needed to be around another person. you were way too afraid to be by yourself right then.

you took a deep breath and pulled yourself out of bed. you leapt through your dark room and opened the door into the hallway. jake’s room was just across from yours.

his door was closed. you pressed your ear against it but couldn’t hear a thing. you were slightly frustrated that he was asleep, but it wasn’t like it was his job to stay awake for you just in case you had a nightmare.

slowly, you twisted open the door. his room was completely dark, but a flash of lightning illuminated his sleeping form for just a second. as you suspected, he was completely knocked out, buried under the covers in his bed.

you took a hesitant step inside, not entirely sure what you were doing by going into his room. you just needed company and the reassurance that your nightmare wasn’t real.

the door came to a close behind you, the sound of it shutting a little louder than you would’ve liked.

jake stirred, sitting up ever so slightly.

“y/n?” he mumbled, eyes squinted to look at you in the darkness.

“sorry i woke you,” you apologized, awkwardly standing by the end of his bed.

“what are you doing?” he asked. “what’s wrong?”

“i just…i had a nightmare,” you told him.

saying it out loud, you were embarrassed. you’d woken your roommate up like a child. you were selfish too for doing that. he worked hard and he was tired, thus he needed a full night of sleep.

“nightmare?” jake questioned.

“yeah,” you said. “i know, it’s dumb. i was just scared.”

“c’mere.”

your body filled with warmth and relief at the soft word from jake. he wasn’t mad, he was actually inviting you into his bed to provide you with the comfort you so desperately needed.

you crawled into his bed and slid under the covers with him. his bed was so warm and you immediately felt about a million times safer just being near him.

you laid on your side and he slid his arm around your waist, pressing his front side to your back.

you’d been roommates with jake for about a year, but you’d never once cuddled. you were friends—good friends, but you barely ever even touched. you never really hugged each other, never held hands, and especially never spooned in his bed before.

“d’you wanna talk about it?” he asked, his breath warm against your ear.

“no,” you said, not wanting to have to relive the awful nightmare. “i just couldn’t be alone.”

jake inhaled and all he could smell was the intoxicating scent of your shampoo. you were so warm and delicate in his embrace, he was definitely freaking out but trying his best not to show it.

“i’m here now,” he said. “nothing is gonna get you if i’m here.”

his words, for whatever reason, made your heart pound, made butterflies flutter in your tummy. to hear those sentences come from your incredibly attractive roommate made you…excited.

sunghoon was the reason you two knew each other. you were friends with sunghoon, jake was friends with sunghoon, and you all started hanging out in groups. you and jake coincidentally needed roommates at the same time, and then there you were.

you’d always thought he was hot and not only his physical appearance, but his personality too. he was sweet and caring and gentle, and you just really, really enjoyed him. his cute accent was a plus too.

“thank you,” you exhaled. “i knew you were sleeping and i really didn’t wanna wake you. i just—”

“hey, it’s okay,” he assured.

you suddenly felt the soft tingling sensation of his fingers grazing up and down your t-shirt clad back. you sighed in pleasure, letting your eyes flutter shut.

“feels so good,” you told him, your voice in a mumbled daze.

“yeah?” he replied. “want me to keep going?”

“mmm, yes please,” you hummed tiredly.

jake cooed at your sleepy state and continued running the tips of his fingertips up and down the length of your back.

he continued to do that until you were slowly lulled into a soft doze.

after a few minutes, jake spoke.

“can i lift your shirt?” he asked.

your eyes flew open, startled by his sudden voice in what was such a quiet room.

“yeah,” you told him.

he slowly pushed your t-shirt up your body, revealing your smooth back. he left your shirt bunched up around your chest and reattached his fingers to your back, using his nails to glide up and down.

you leaned back into his touch, sighing in pleasure. jake’s breathing got ever so slightly heavier by the sight of your pleasured reactions and your pliant body against his.

he eventually switched to using the palm of his hand to rub your back soothingly. he rubbed along your back before his hand started inching to your side, and he rubbed there too.

he gently pulled you down so you were laying on your back. with him still laying on his side, he had a height advantage over you. he looked down at your tired face, licking his lips.

neither of you even said anything and mutually started leaning in at the same time. the moment was already intimate from him rubbing your back, it just felt right and normal to kiss.

his warm lips were heavy against yours, kissing you slowly and deeply. his hand came up to cradle your face, caressing your warm blushing cheek with his thumb.

“you’re so pretty,” he mumbled against your lips.

if you were any more awake, you probably would’ve been squealing and jumping up and down.

he trailed his hand down from your face and to the side of your waist. your shirt was still raised slightly, revealing a sliver of your stomach.

jake pushed your shirt up and stopped just below your breasts.

“can i keep going?” he asked, pulling back and looking into your eyes.

you were so excited about where things were going, you would’ve been an idiot to say no.

“yeah,” you answered, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him back down to your lips.

he smiled against your lips and inched his tongue inside your mouth. you responded immediately, rubbing the slippery tip of your tongue against his. the sound was purely lewd, all wet and kissing noises.

he pushed your shirt up until it was over your chest, revealing your tits to him for the first time. the cool air in the room immediately hardened your nipples.

jake cupped your breast in his hand and swiped his thumb over your nipple, making you gasp and arch into his touch. he pulled away from your lips for a second to wet the tip of his pointer finger. he then brought his finger down to your nipple and rubbed it in little circles.

you moaned against his lips, jutting your hips up because you were suddenly a lot more needy that you’d realized. with the way he was playing with your nipple, it was starting to get you worked up.

he departed from your lips, trailing kisses down your chin, your neck, your collarbones, and finally to your chest.

he circled his tongue around the bud before taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking on it gently. you moaned out, entangling your fingers in his thick hair.

he played with the other neglected nipple, massaging it between his thumb and index finger. you spread your legs and tugged on his hair softly, showing to him how good it felt.

“you like that, baby?” he asked, licking your nipple in circles again. “is it makin’ you feel better?”

“fuck,” you moaned. “yeah, i love it.”

“cute,” he chuckled, switching to suck on the other nipple.

you weren’t sure how long that went on for. you just knew it was long enough for your panties to be completely soaked by the time he pulled away.

he kissed down your bare stomach and stopped where the waistband of your sweatpants were.

“can i keep making you feel good, baby?” he asked, his hand coming to wrap around your thigh.

you needed him to make you feel good. your pussy was so sensitive from being so aroused and you just needed something.

“mmm, please,” you answered. “it’s sticky.”

“it’s sticky?” he repeated, peeling your sweatpants down your legs. “let me see.”

he spread your legs and found that your flimsy pair of panties were completely soaked through from your arousal. he gulped, bringing his finger up and dragging it down your clothed slit.

you whimpered, jutting your hips up to try and get more contact out of just his one finger. he pushed your hips down.

“poor thing,” he cooed. “you’re soaked. did you like getting your nipples sucked that much?”

“yeah,” you answered pathetically, embarrassed.

“sweet girl,” he said, pouting at you. “gonna take care of you, angel.”

your pussy clenched around nothing.

he was quick to hook his fingers into your panties and slide them down your legs, tossing them onto the floor with your sweatpants. you were bare in front of him then, your cunt dripping and eager.

he spread your legs as wide as they could go. you felt so vulnerable underneath him. you’d never even hugged the guy, yet now you were there with your glistening cunt twitching in front of his face.

he held your thighs as he leaned in and look a long lick from the bottom of your sopping pussy all the way up to your puffy clit. he moaned as the taste of you infiltrated his senses, taking over his head. he knew just from that one lick alone that he was addicted.

“oh my god…” you trailed off, your hand finding his hair again to hold on to.

he started flicking his tongue up and down your folds, pushing his face into your cunt as deep as he could. he wrapped his lips around your clit, making out with it and drooling all over it.

for a moment, he pulled back to just look at your pussy. spread your lips with his thumbs, watching your drooling hole convulse.

“fuck, baby,” he nearly growled.

he couldn’t stay away for long and his face was buried back into your pussy a second later. he swiped his tongue back and forth against your clit, his eyes fluttering closed at the taste and the feeling of it.

“mmm,” he hummed into your pussy. “so sweet, baby. tastes so good. could’ve been eating you out since the day we moved in together if i knew you were this sweet.”

you could barely process any of his words, so lost in the pleasure he was giving you. his tongue worked your pussy like magic, slurping up your arousal and nibbling on your clit and thrusting in and out of your leaking hole.

“jake,” you cried out, tugging on his hair. “‘m close, fuck. i’m so close.”

jake dug his fingers into your thighs, frowning slightly in concentration. his tongue continued to move rapidly on your hot, gushing cunt.

the knot in your stomach suddenly snapped and your entire body fell weak. your eyes rolled back into your head and you fucked your hips against his tongue to ride out your orgasm. he moaned against you as the taste of your cum dripped down his throat.

he left your pussy with a kiss before sitting up on his knees. staring down at you, so sleepy and fucked out, he wanted nothing more than to stuff his cock deep inside of you and just pound until you both went dumb.

jake rubbed your thigh, watching your eyelids grow heavier and heavier.

“can i fuck you, baby?” he asked, slightly nervous about what you’d say.

you were tired, clearly. he wasn’t sure if you’d want to.

“yeah, jakey,” you said sweetly.

his heart throbbed at the nickname, and the fact that you were going to let him fuck you. the idea of what your tight cunt would feel like wrapped around his cock made him lightheaded.

he was quick to rid himself of his clothes. he was hard from eating you out and only needed to jerk himself off for a second before he was ready to put it in.

he lined the pretty pink tip of his cock up with your slippery hole and eased his way inside, not wanting to hurt you. he watched your reactions closely.

you looked up at him, your jaw falling slack at the feeling of his cock slowly filling your pussy up. your legs shook as he pushed himself to the brim, the tip of his cock hitting the spongey spot deep inside of you.

“oh,” you whimpered. “feels so good. i’m so full.”

“yeah, baby?” he cooed. “you nice and full of my cock?”

you nodded rapidly, sitting yourself up slightly so you could see his cock slowly slide out of you before pushing back in. your walls fluttered around him.

your pussy was so warm, wet, tight, and absolutely intoxicating just like how he knew it would be.

“such a good pussy,” he moaned, holding onto your hips as he thrusted. “got my dick all wet in your sweet cum, baby.”

there was a creamy ring of your cum around the base of his dick, which made a lewd squelching sound every time he thrusted.

you just whimpered in response, turning your head to the side. he was fucking you so deeply, dragging every inch of his long length through your tight walls.

you held onto his biceps, digging your nails into his skin. he bit his lip, looking down at your pretty supple body and the way you just laid there and took it, letting him fuck you nice and good.

“‘m close, baby,” he told you, grabbing your chin and turning your head so you were looking up at him again. “where do you want me to cum?”

you were so sleepy and fucked out that you could still barely comprehend his words. you also were starting to feel your second orgasm brewing in your stomach which made it even harder to focus.

you just babbled some incoherent nonsense.

“words, honey,” he said, squeezing your thighs. “tell me where you want my cum.”

“inside,” you cried out, tightening your legs around his waist. “wanna be filled.”

“fuck,” jake hissed. “i’ll fill you up real good. i’ll make you nice and warm, yeah baby?”

“please!” you yelled. “please, i need it.”

your words sent him straight over the edge. he choked on a moan as ropes of his warm cum spilled inside of you, drenching your walls.

seeing him hit his orgasm sent you over the edge as well, and suddenly you were clenching around him, sucking him completely dry.

waves of sweat and pleasure and euphoria washed over the both of you. you swear he was sending you to another dimension where the only thing you knew was pleasure and jake’s addictive cock.

he slowly rocked his hips in and out of you, milking both of your orgasms until you were both done and spent.

by then, you were both exhausted. he slowly pulled out and collapsed next to you. the two of you laid on your backs, staring at the ceiling in shock at what you’d just done.

you went into his room with the expectation of a little bit of comfort after your awful nightmare, not to have been given two orgasms.

for a few minutes, neither of you said anything.

then, jake spoke up.

“so, did i get you to forget about your nightmare?” he asked, turning his head to the side to look at you.

at that point, you couldn’t even remember what the nightmare was about.

“i think you did,” you answered.

he pulled you into his chest and kissed the top of your head. within a few minutes, both of you were asleep in each others arms.

-

a/n long jake smut for 1k and bc im horny for him.

thank you for reading <3

[hwajin]

☆°. — so good !! | hhj

genre: smut

pairing: hyunjin x gn!reader

wc: >2k

warnings: unprotected sex, new relationship, horny thoughts due to circumstances (hyunjins teaser), so not proofread and VERY rushed i'm not sorry

It was the temptation of it, the taunting tease. Giving you a taste and yet not giving you everything, not all at once; feeding you half a spoon after half a spoon, and you were left to lap it up. If you'd seen him entirely shirtless, if he'd tossed the nihil shirt over his head entirely, it wouldn't bear the same effect as it did seeing only the skin right above his waistband. Peeking out when he stretched. Greeting you when he fixed his hair. Mocking you when he turned and you flushed red, and when he found your eyes.

"You alright?"

He'd caught you. You knew that he he knew what you were thinking. He had seen your eyes, staring. Intently. Had he done it on purpose? Had he only acted oblivious to the effect he had on you; had he known of your wandering eyes and watering mouth all along? Maybe he'd even picked out the shirt on purpose; you had never seen him in anything so short, and you weren't yet brave enough to address it; what if it hadn't been on purpose, after all? You would have made a fool of yourself asking, initiating.

And you blushed under his gaze; it had been on purpose, after all. Hyunjin's smirk told you everything. He sat on your chair, by your table, brushes scattered on it, half finished sketches grazing his notebook. Most of them you, the other ones flowers. "Basically the same thing.", he had said, when you'd caught a glimpse of them. It had been barely three weeks into your relationship; only a couple of days ago now, and you still thought about that comment. Still grew hot at the thought of it. Still pressed your thighs together when you remembered what had happened afterwards; how he had laid you down in his bed, on his soft mattress, how he had asked for the greenlight every other minute. How he had whispered sweet everything's into your ear before he'd bit it, how he'd sighed out when he had inserted himself for the very first time; how you'd woken up together the next morning, shy and helpless, happy.

Every since then he had gotten more sly, more daring. You liked it; but you grew bashful under his gazes, under his smirks. And you were bashful now. No less because of the belly button which peeked beneath his top, distracted you so very rudely from answering him. And the worst thing; he noticed. And he stood up, top riding up, revealing the daint lines of his muscles, leading to his core, hidden beneath confines you so badly wanted off. Ever since he had walked into your room, ever since he had taken off his jacket; you wanted him like crazy, but you could only sit there and hope he contained the ability to read minds.

"What are you looking at, babe?" A raised eye brow as Hyunjin bent down to give you a peck on your forehead, before he plumped down on the bed next to you, making himself comfortable; laying back on his elbows, legs spread enough to hint suggestiveness. To make you want to touch him; starting at the bare lower stomach, and let your hand wander further down. Down and down until he gasped, or sighed; you loved it all, missed it. A sense of pride coursed through you whenever you heard his huffs of air in your ear, whenever he lost himself.

"Nothing.", you whispered. But you bit your lip, and felt your face get hot; and he knew you lied. Had known anyways, but smirked at you now. Laughed then, when you only reddened deeper, when you furrowed your brows, not in confusion but something like embarrassment. When you hissed in a breath the moment he sat up a bit on his elbows, turned to his side to face you. You sat beside him still, not moving; a statue of desire and the inability to do anything against it.

His hand suddenly found itself on your thigh; one finger, then two riding up, before his whole palm feathered on your skin, up and down, closer and closer to your core with every up. You looked at it, then found his eyes. You could still see the bit of skin beneath his shirt; creasing now in his position, skin creating textures you wanted to study, wanted to paint if you had the ability, wanted to kiss until your lips turned numb. The heat through your body was burning you alive; if Hyunjin didn't do anything shortly, you'd have to take matters into your own hands. You'd have to bent down and kiss him, so deep like never before. Deep enough to take him by surprise; you hadn't ever initiated before.

Maybe it was his goal. Maybe he waited on you to do something. Drove you to the edge on purpose to get a reaction out of you.

"Oh, yeah?" Voice taunting, like the hand on your thigh, the eyes holding yours. He was a different person like this; something devilish where sometimes angels sat, and you couldn't decide which side you preferred.

"You know, if you want something, you just have to ask."

Voice sultry, deep, lazy. Voice so piercing that it went right through you, and you let out a sound that sounded embarrassingly close to a moan; and Hyunjin threw his head back to laugh so very brightly you almost joined in with him.

"You're so cute, you know that?", he teased while leaning back again, laying down on his back now, flat, a palm of his by the small of your back. He caressed you there, softly, lovingly; a contrast to the provoking glint in his eyes. The shirt had ridden up with all his moving, and he didn't have the slightest intentions to fix it. He raised another brow.

"So?"

So he did expect a reaction. He wanted you to say the words, to make the first step. But he smirked when you took a deep breath, giggled when there wasn't a single word which made it past your lips. Only stuttering, only 'uhm's' and 'like's'. Some more embarrassing attempts at- at what exactly? Were you supposed to say, "Fucke me, please."? "You look so hot, let's have sex, please."? Who in the world said that? Did people say that to each other? How in the world did people initiate sex, even? How had Hyunjin done it the past few times? Had he even said anything, at all? He for sure hadn't made a fool of himself; you had the feeling you would, if only a single word made it past your lips.

So you breathed out, harshly, determined now.

"Fuck it."

You leaned over him and clashed your lips against his. Quickly, though it didn't surprise him, per se; you could feel him smile against your mouth. He liked it. He liked when you were needy, when you expressed how much he affected you, how much you wanted him. So you touched him. You let your fingers dance across his body, his face first, holding him so close your faces melted into one, palming, then, the mound of his chest. His own hands held you tight at your hips, or your waist, occasionally dipping to graze your bottom; almost shy at how quick he retrieved his hands again, and you sighed into his mouth at that.

You caressed the bare of his stomach, finally. Riding the shirt up a bit more, tracing the lines of his toned body while he shivered under your touch, tensed where your fingers met his skin. Hitched a breath when your hand hovered above his half erection. Moaned, then, loudly, when you palmed him. Louder when you squeezed. His fingers painted imprints on the skin of your hips when you bit his lip and slid your fingers beneath his waistband to graze his hardening erection skin to skin, and his hips jerked into your touch, craving more. Only then you backed away. He looked at you, eyes blown out and black, lips red so much you feared he bled. But he licked at them, quickly; and spoke your death sentence, then.

"You're so fucking sexy when you're like this."

In a second you straddled him. You stopped him when Hyunjin made hassles to remove his shirt; you wanted it on. You wanted to see only the little bit of skin, wanted the taunting, the teasing. Wanted him inside of you. His erection tickled at your heat, your wetness drowning it when you lined up the tip, when you sank down on him. You moaned in response to his sounds, his gasps of air and groanes of pleasure. You rolled your eyes back when his hips jerked against yours, when you felt his fingers digging into your flesh. You came against him in spasms, when you caught a glimpse of his tensed lower stomach, of the lines of muscles reaching to somewhere below his waistband, of his shut eyes and contorted face. And you shook when you felt him fill you up, when he came with deep whispers of your name, when he pulled you into him, into his arms, against his body. Your legs limp, your heart full. You smiled against the crook of his neck, a scent of honey and vanilla; and you kissed him there, long and deep, your fingers playing with the skin of his arms, his shoulders, his lower stomach; before he caged you in his hold, making you his, making him yours.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads-archived @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @binniesbang @astraystayyh

[rafesangelita]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ gooning to your instagram page was a regular occurrence for stepbro!rafe, but getting caught? that’s something that didn’t happen everyday..

warnings: stepcest, reader is bit of a bimbo, male masturbation, rafe is super pervy and kinda icky in this lol, name calling, handjob, messy kissing, oral (f. receiving), praise, mutual pining (?), dirty talk, pussy slapping, overstimulation, unprotected sex, rafe is a loser so premature ejaculation, marking, cock warming, multiple orgasms, creampie

wc: 2.0k

“such a fucking slut, ‘posting shit like this.” rafe cursed under his breath, his phone in one hand and his cock in the other. jerking off to your slutty instagram account had become a part of his daily routine. he hated that you were so active on it, but then again, if it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t have so many pictures and videos to keep him sane while he fantasized about fucking his bratty little stepsister. pathetically enough, rafe knew he had to keep his grimy hands off of you, and fuck, did it piss him off. to have something so close, yet so far out of his reach.

your story highlights alone was enough to hold him off for the next year, but your actual posts? he swore anyone who came across your page was in gooning heaven. he’d never admit it, but he once spent two entire hours jerking off to a video he had secretly took of you two having a ‘whoever could eat their cone the fastest’ contest, his cock raw and aching to be left alone by the time he decided to give it a rest. he was mesmerized, watching you lick and lap at the icecream, the sweet succulence dripping down your chin, and eventually your tits when you couldn’t keep it from melting.

his eyes screwed shut at the memory, the video currently playing on his phone not being any different. instead of icecream dribbling down your chin, it was whatever alcohol your best friend had just poured in your mouth, the excess liquor running down your neck and chest. you had squealed when you swallowed the burning substance, your tits bouncing as you jumped excitedly with your friends. rafe groaned at the sight. you couldn’t be that oblivious, right??? at some point you had to know what you were doing when you posted this for everyone to see?

your micro bikini top did nothing to support the weight of your tits, a nipple peeking out before you innocently tucked it back underneath the poor excuse of pink material. he clicked out of your story and immediately blew up the image of your recent post. you were on all fours, face down and ass up as your skin sparkled underneath the neon lights of the party you had went to earlier tonight. you looked like you were straight out of a playboy magazine. rafe groaned, his chest heaving as he teetered the edge of cumming all over himself.

he thought about manhandling you out of that bikini and fucking you stupid for wearing it out in the first place. he’s had to watch you whore yourself out for nearly a year already, his life becoming a living hell since the day you first moved in and introduced yourself with that stupid faux innocent look in your eyes. the mini skirts you never failed to bend down in front of him in, the tube tops that basically had your tits spilling out of them, fuck, there was so many things about you that made him horny out of his mind. “oh, shit!” rafe dropped his phone, his door opening just as his orgasm washed over him.

“what the f-fuck?!” he was trembling underneath the covers, his eyes widening as you quietly shut his door behind you. “what are you doing?” he whispered, fumbling around as his high still had his hips stuttering. you giggled, watching as his face morphed into one of full blown pleasure before he turned away from you. “i just wanted to check on you since i heard noises, that’s all..” you sat down on the edge of his bed, biting your lip as his back muscles rippled beneath his skin, your eyes moving to the phone next to him. “oh, well you couldn’t have picked a better time?” rafe scoffed.

you flipped the device over, gasping softly when you saw your instagram illuminating the screen. “hey, that’s me!” you laughed, taking his phone in your hand and holding it up to him before he lunged for the thing, taking you down with him. “rafe!” you yelped his hand coming up to clasp over your mouth. “shut the fuck up! you’re gonna get us in trouble, dummy!” he cursed, his face just centimeters away from your own. you swallowed thickly, nodding as he slowly moved his hand down. “why am i on your phone?” you asked, noticing the way his pupils blew wide at your question.

“what?” he faltered, watching as a smile formed on your lips. “oh my god—” the realization hit you when you looked down, his bulge prominent in his boxers. “were you touching yourself?” rafe’s eyebrows knitted together as he backed away, looking at you as if you had just insinuated the most offensive thing he’s ever heard. “a-are you serious? of course not—” you trailed your hand down, cupping him through the thin material, “it’s okay if you were.. i do it too.” rafe froze, inspecting your face for any kind of hint that you were joking. you weren’t.

“what the fuck are you talking about?” he said through gritted teeth. you peered up at him innocently, batting your eyelashes at him as he made no attempt to move away from you. “i touch myself and think about you, ray. all the time.” you whispered against his lips, placing a soft kiss there before letting your head fall back against his pillows. “i know it’s wrong, but i can’t help it..” this was rafe’s wet dream coming true. “whenever you walk around shirtless i just imagine riding your abs. you’re so strong, rafe, i think about you choking me with these arms.” you ran your nails up the skin of his forearm.

holy fuck.

rafe didn’t believe he could ever be this turned on in his life. “yeah?” he let himself relax, your fingers slipping underneath the waistband of his boxers as you gripped him at the base. you felt the sticky residue from his previous orgasm in your palm, a hum leaving your lips at the revelation. “did i make you cum already?” the man above you groaned. how you sounded so sweet asking the most dirtiest question was beyond him. “fuck— yes, you did,” he nodded, his mouth parting once you started stroking him, “may i pleaseee make you cum again?” rafe nodded frantically, his hips thrusting into your palm.

taking your lips in a searing kiss, rafe didn’t hold back from slipping his tongue in your mouth, the sensation making you moan as you two practically drooled over one another. he wasn’t gentle in the slightest, his teeth nipping your bottom lip when you ran your thumb over his throbbing tip. “oh, god,” he hissed, pulling away momentarily to inspect your outfit.. or lack thereof. you laid underneath him in nothing but a sheer night top, your g-string sitting perfectly between your puffy folds. “you look so fucking hot.” rafe breathed out, cupping your tits before rolling your nipples between his fingers.

you gasped, spreading your thighs so he could lay between them. “i need to taste you, please let me,” he pressed a sloppy kiss to your chin, both of your lips glossy with spit. you moaned, whimpering a ‘yes, please!’ as he snaked down your body. when he got to eye level with your soaking cunt, he teased you by slowly moving your sorry excuse of ‘panties’ aside before spreading you open. you shuddered, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you waited for his next move. pinning your thighs to the tops of his shoulders, rafe kissed your sensitive bud before diving in.

immediately, your back arched off of his mattress when his tongue attacked your poor clit, the back of your hand muffling your scream as your thighs clamped around his head. you were squirming, nails digging into his skin for dear life as he ate you like a man starved. “if only you knew,” rafe spoke, “i’ve been losing sleep over this pussy, ‘been wanting to do this since day fucking one.” you cried out at his words. you’ve wanted him for yourself the second he helped you with your moving boxes, that smug smirk on his face drawing you in since the very beginning.

your hips unintentionally chased his mouth, his hands pinning you down in place. “feels so good!” you whined, propping yourself up on your elbows so you could watch him. the tip of his nose was glistening with your slick, his tongue poking your entrance as lapped away at your juices. he was so good at this, you felt jealousy pooling in your tummy for any other girls who might’ve seen this sight, and felt his skilled tongue. “you taste so fucking good, this is unreal.” he marveled, sucking your clit before rolling your sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips. you gasped sharply, a scream sitting on the tip of your tongue.

rafe continued like this until you attempted to move away from him again. grabbing a pillow from your side, you smothered your face with it as he pushed you over the edge, a high like never before washing over you in waves of pure ecstasy. rafe watched you shake and thrash underneath him, his pussy drunk gaze raking down your trembling form. you moaned, sobbed, and cried until all you could do was whimper in sensitivity. “no more,” you sighed, your body jolting as rafe flicked his tongue continuously over your clit. black dots spotted your vision, your heart beating in your ears.

“..can’t take it, rafe!” you sobbed, tears welling in your eyes as he dismissed your cries. “yes, you can, you’re gonna have to..” just as you were going to ask him what he meant by that, he kept your legs on his shoulders as he stood up, slamming into you without warning. you couldn’t conceal the sound this time, your shriek bouncing off of the walls of rafe’s room. turning his head to see if the door was locked, he cursed under his breath when he saw it wasn’t. “you just want us to get caught, huh?” you shook your head, your nails digging into the flesh of his stomach.

rafe covered your mouth, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when you felt him pinch your clit. “just give me one more, baby, that’s all. ‘wanna feel this pussy squeezing around me when i fill you up with my cum.” you had tears running down your cheeks now. embarrassingly enough, rafe felt his climax approaching fast, his cock still aching from cumming not even twenty minutes ago. overstimulated and hysterical, you were spasming around rafe’s length in no time, every ridge of his cock bringing you to your final orgasm of the night, rafe following suit.

he leaned down, grunting praises in your ear while he painted you white inside, your thighs shaking uncontrollably against his chest. not daring to remove his hand away from your face yet, he sucked bruises into the skin of your neck, marking you as his own. you laid limp like on his bed, taking the last few of his thrusts before he stilled completely. you were a fucked out mess to say the least. gently placing your legs down, rafe stayed nestled inside of you as he pulled you against him. unintentionally, you had started tracing shapes into his skin, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead as you two kissed.

“this just made a lot of shit complicated.” he stroked your chin, your glassy eyes flickering over his face. “not really,” you started, “we’ll just be sneaky.” rafe blinked slowly, a groan rumbling from his chest as you clenched around him. “look down, i want you to see something.” you did as he said, a small whine leaving your lips as he pulled out, his cum dribbling out of with ease. “i’m the only one who can have this pussy, you understand?” you nodded, pecking his cheek before wrapping your arms around his neck. “come on, let’s get you back to your room before world war three breaks out in this house.”

[autistic-zukoao3]

I wanna share too.

My grandpa was raised very staunchly Catholic by parents who grew up during WW1, and had it drilled into his head that it doesn't matter if you're happy or not, so long as you're pleasing others and don't tarnish your image in any way.

My grandpa was incredibly racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, you name it. (CONTENT WARNING: childhood sexual abuse, incest)

The transphobia was made even worse because his ex-wife (my grandma) had been sexually abused by her transgender older sister for basically her entire childhood.

(END of content warning)

So, when I realized I was trans, I was fucking scared. I didn't think I'd be kicked out, but I didn't think I'd be supported either. My mom and grandpa had made it very clear that transgender people were confused perverts. I knew that wasn't true, of course. But I knew what they thought.

After Leelah Alcorn committed suicide and was buried in the wrong clothes under the wrong name, I decided I didn't want to die a girl. I didn't want to be buried as a girl. I didn't want to be remembered as a girl. This also kept me alive. Anyways, I wrote a letter to my mom and left it in the bathroom for her to find in the morning. I asked her in the letter not to bring it up until after school. She complied.

She didn't handle it well, initially. It ruined our relationship for a long time. She made it about herself and thought she had failed me as a mother, and that I only "wanted" to be a boy because she was a woman and had been "weak" too many times and I didn't want to end up like her.

Eventually, we came to some kind of understanding. She got me to get my haircut like a dude. She bought me the binders I asked for (which btw weren't body safe at all, but I figured that out after a year), and she told the school to call me by my new name and male pronouns. She fought for me to have that right in school. Finally, she was relaxed enough about it that I asked her to tell Grandpa too. So she did.

To both of our surprise, my grandpa was the first one to start using the right pronouns. Immediately. He cried too, since I had chosen to be named the same as him. This was a coincidence, but I'm gonna let him die thinking I named myself after him. He deserves that. He told me how much he loved me, and he started treating me like he would a boy my age. He started cussing in front of me, or making dirty jokes. He encouraged me to help him work on the cars (which wasn't a gender thing, but it was gender affirming regardless), and gave me advice on how to masculinize my look more. He told me that he would do whatever he could to help us pay for any surgeries, and offered to ask his rich siblings for help paying as well.

There was a downside to my grandpa's enthusiasm however. He was so proud of me for being transgender and myself despite what others think that he started introducing me to EVERYONE as his transgender grandson. Holy fuck. He was outting me to everyone and anyone who even looked at us. It was terrifying. He had no idea what he was doing. He was just too damn proud to think "maybe this isn't a wise idea". Thankfully, everyone reacted well. We live in a rural, very red area, with shitty education. Yet, it was the old white redneck men that reacted the best. Most of the time they got a fat smile on their face, said something like "I'll be damned!" and shook my hand excitedly. They always gripped too hard, but I don't think it was on purpose. Just a uh, have a firm handshake or you're less of a man, gender role type bullshit y'know?

I did tell my grandpa eventually that while he meant well, he was putting a target on my back, which he hadn't even thought about, as I said. It was pretty funny. Put his meaty claw over his mouth and was like "Oh shit, I shouldn't have done that" lol.

My mom is fully supportive now, and even my grandma is these days (only took her 10 years and almost dying from cancer). I don't want anything to do with my grandma though, for unrelated reasons.

But yeah! You can find the support in the least expected places. My grandpa is still a bit transphobic, but he's working on unlearning that shit. He even thinks the idea of neopronouns is cool, though he doesn't understand why someone would use them. But he still tries to use them once he's told.

When I came out, I was SO scared I was gonna get disowned. I wrote a letter to my parents, sent it to their emails, put a physical copy on the counter, and left the house for a few hours to give them time. In that time I tried coffee for the first time, which was a dreadful idea, and got all jittery. I kept waiting for a text or something but nothing happened.

After a few hours, I didn’t hear back from them so I went home. My parents were home and had stacked a bunch of groceries on top of the letter without opening it. They said “hi” and I said “hi” and went down stairs to the basement. I held my dog and panicked about what to do. My sister, who knew that I had written them a letter of great importance, told me they hadn’t read it yet. She also told me she could ask them to do so. I consented to this and stayed in the basement. A few minutes later my dad knocked on the door and poked his soft smooth little nerd head in and said “hey buddy” and I started crying so hard I almost vomited. He came over and gave me a BIG hug and said that it was gonna be OK, he was OK with this, he knew it must have been hard but he was here for me. He told me he and my mom had already talked years before they had me about how if they had to pick between their faith and their child they’d pick their child. It was a very sweet moment. I came out to my mom later that evening and we were both bawling the whole time.

The day after I came out to my parents, I came out to my brother @inbabylontheywept at a Mexican restaurant and he took it like a champ. That evening my mom took me for a walk and looked almost angry - she said she wanted to make sure that I didn’t use being a woman as an excuse to not go to grad school. I told her I wouldn’t and she instantly looked relieved and happier.

My dad, on the other hand, seemed to struggle with it. He kept asking me if I had a boyfriend, and I told him I did not. He kept asking me if I wanted to go clothes shopping with him and I did not. He kept asking me if I would let him go to some of my shows, and I had NO idea what he was talking about.

Finally, 6 months after coming out, of awkward misgendering and questions that didn’t make sense from my dad, he excitedly pokes his soft smooth little nerd head into my bedroom again and says “I found a movie about Your People.” My people. I was absolutely bewildered, but he was so excited and I knew he had been trying SO hard so I watched it with him. It was The Birdcage, and it was amazing. It also was revelatory in that I finally realized why my initially-supportive father seemed to be having such a hard time with my pronouns and stuff - he didn’t know what the difference between trans and doing drag was. After the movie he again asked if I would invite him to one of my shows, and I said, “Hey dad, you know how about half the world is women?” And he said “yeah,” and I said “Well, see, I’m on that half now. I’m not doing drag.” And it was like a switch flipped in his brain. He was like “omg that’s so easy? I was so confused about what to call you when?”

Anyway, my parents are charming and my family has been so kind and patient with me, I like sharing the stories of my little wins with them.

[jarofstyles]

Can you do a blurb of H cuddling Y/N after being away or busy for a while?? Thanks!!

Yes I can ❤️ here’s a little something!

Check out our Patreon!!

—-

"Mmm... this is nice." Harry whispered against her lips, pulling her closer under the blanket. His fingers gently traced patterns on her arm as they shared soft, lingering kisses. The movie played softly in the background, but his focus was entirely on her. This was what always happened and they should have known they wouldn’t last 10 minutes without being distracted but perhaps that was the point.

Between kisses, he mumbled against her lips. "Y’know, I've missed moments like this. Just being here with you..." Work had been kicking his ass as the holidays approached just like it did every year, but it didn’t mean he liked it.

“I miss you too.” She sighed, fiddling with his necklace. “But I know it’s a busier season for you. It’s almost over.” He’d been working day in and out. It was their first chance to have an actual slow date night, and it seemed that he’d missed her more than she had thought. Clingy Harry was one of her favorites.

"It really is," Harry said softly, his thumb gently brushing over her cheek. "But I promise, once this season is over, m’all yours. No more late nights or extremely early mornings. Just you and me, doing nothing but existing together." He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You deserve that peace, and m’gonna make sure you have it."

She did particularly miss waking up to him curled around her like her own personal blanket. There was truly nothing like getting to be so intimately close with the man she utterly adored, but it was hard to do that lately. Harry had always been a hard worker, passionate in everything he did- thankfully, that included being a lover, too. “You are doing just fine, H. I know you have to do your work.” Her fingers traced over the bridge of his nose, giving him a light smile. Her husband truly was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. “M’honestly just glad that you got to come home early tonight.”

Sighing softly at her touch, he let his eyes flutter shut momentarily as he reveled in the delicate brush of her fingertips. "I swear, the next few months are just gonna be us." The arm around her waist pulled her closer, planting a kiss on her cheek. It really was hard to keep his mouth off of her. "Me, waking up wrapped around you every morning..." Planting another kiss to her nose, he laughed under her breath as he watched it scrunch a bit. "...falling asleep with your head on my chest every night...just need those moments back. Just you and me. Know m’selfish, but that’s the truth."

Harry had always been selfish about her attention. That was nothing new, but not getting to indulge as often as he liked was the problem. "And I swear, no more ridiculous late-night calls," he promised, his hand splaying over her waist. "I really am sorry, baby.” the soft frown on his face was indicative of that. Disappointing her was his least favorite thing. “No more 'I'll be home in an hour' turns into 'It's 3am and I'm still not home'. No more... got t’spend time with you. Can’t work properly if m’miserable because my girl is at home alone in my bed…" He trailed off, his thumb brushing over her swollen bottom lip. There had been a lot of things that had gotten out of hand and he knew he had been extremely lucky that she was so understanding about it. “Think M’gonna dedicate an entire week to being between your thighs.”

Her eyes widened slightly at his bold statement, a soft blush creeping onto her cheeks. Biting her lower lip as his touch moved to her chin, she to suppress a small smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Harry," she scolded lightly. “You… are something else.” Her husband had no problem showing her just how much she meant to her. She knew he had obviously had some withdrawals from their intimacy but hearing it out so boldly made her slightly flustered. One of his favorite things was figuring out ways to make her squirm, so she shouldn’t have been that shocked- but that’s what he liked about it.

"S’it too much?" He teased, his thumb brushing over her heated cheek. "Let me rephrase, then, my beautiful girl." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping lower. "How about I dedicate an entire week to staying in our bed, only getting up for food and water, showering together and spending the rest of the time worshipping you t’show you just how much I miss you every second I’m gone?" He grinned mischievously. “That sound any better?”

[girlatmirror]

couple’s getaway | jjk

you and jungkook spend the weekend before christmas with taehyung and his girlfriend at his cabin in the mountains, and you start it off with a bet.

rich! jungkook x reader

warnings: anal (minors you know what to do), kookie is rich asf, pda, tae and sasha are v cute, yn showing a hint of her crazy side, jk’s in loooove, christmas, mentions of marriage, pretty short imo, idk what else.

an extension to bend my rules 🫶🏼

__

It was the week before Christmas, and Taehyung had the amazing idea to invite you and Jungkook to his and Sasha’s now-yearly Christmas weekend getaway to his parents’ cabin in the mountains—a way to celebrate Christmas together while still being able to see family on actual Christmas Day.

Of course, you immediately agreed.

Your relationship with Jungkook was still new—almost two months—and it took the entire student body by surprise; finally, Jungkook could proudly say he proved everybody wrong.

The drive to the cabin was a nice bonding experience with the other couple—Taehyung driving, Jungkook sitting in the passenger seat, and you and Sasha in the back, already giddy about the two-day trip.

You very much loved the view of Jungkook’s broad shoulders, keeping your hands on them at all times.

“Sooo, what did you get Jungkook?” Sasha asked in a whisper tone, curiously.

You giggled, remembering the stupid thoughts that went into getting him a present. Your relationship with Jungkook wasn’t transactional at all; he paid for everything, bought you everything you ever wanted, and didn’t expect a thing in return. It was hard to think of a gift to give your rich boyfriend, who could snap his fingers and get whatever it was he wanted.

“I got him a massage gun for after his workouts and a card he can use whenever he wants anything, like a blowie or a home-cooked meal, and I’m not allowed to object to anything,” you explained in an equally quiet voice, excited to reveal your present. “Oh, and I also put in my used panties.”

There was no such thing as TMI in your friendship with Sasha—you knew everything about each other, down to the smallest details.

Sasha giggled mischievously in response. “Oh my god, Yn, that’s niiice. I got Tae a new camera; you know how much he loves photography.”

You let out a loud “awww,” which made Jungkook turn his head to you. The heated argument between Taehyung and Jungkook about who was the greatest NBA player of all time suddenly died down.

“What are you girls whispering about?” he smirked at you, which you reciprocated.

“Nothing, just how excited we are for the weekend,” you leaned in playfully, giving him a chance to capture your lips with his own.

The kiss quickly deepened as Jungkook turned his body entirely to you, both of you moaning softly into the kiss.

“You guys realize we’re here too, right?” Taehyung asked with a chuckle.

You ended the kiss slowly to lean into your seat again, only to be met with a smirking Sasha playfully pushing your leg with her hands.

“It’s alright, Tae; they’re still in that stage of the relationship,” she held onto his shoulders as she talked. “You remember how we were.”

“Were?” Jungkook asked, dumbfounded. “You guys are way worse than us!”

Taehyung and Sasha gasped dramatically in unison as if rehearsed. “Okay, bet. We’re gonna keep score of every PDA action between you and Yn and between Tae and me, and the couple that has the most loses. The losers have to clean the cabin before we leave.”

Taehyung, responsibly focused on driving, let out an agreeing sound to show Sasha he liked her idea.

“Deal!” Jungkook immediately replied, to which you giggled.

_

Finally arriving at the cabin, it was already 7. You all decided to only watch a movie tonight and start the real activities tomorrow.

Jungkook and Taehyung carried all the bags inside, and you took in the surroundings of the cabin; it was beyond beautiful. It was very secluded, no neighbors—only nature around.

“The bedrooms are upstairs; there are only two bathrooms—one downstairs and one upstairs,” Taehyung revealed, leading all of you into the house. “We’re gonna let the guests choose what bedroom they’d like to stay in, right, baby?”

Sasha nodded and smiled at the two of you.

“How very generous of you,” you thanked them as Jungkook took your hand, guiding you upstairs, your bags in the other.

You explored the upstairs rooms and decided to stay in the one that had the best view of the mountains—something you’d like to wake up to every day. The bed was big and comfortable, and the closet was, thankfully, big enough for the unnecessarily huge amount of clothes you brought with you.

“This is just wonderful,” you expressed to Jungkook, who immediately unpacked and undressed while you picked out the pajamas you were going to wear.

Jungkook opted for grey sweatpants and a white wifebeater (yummy), and you chose a baby blue satin pant set that you recently purchased while on a shopping spree with Jungkook. It did wonders for your figure.

“I’m glad you like it here,” he smiled lovingly. “Just want you to enjoy yourself this weekend—no college stress or nothing, okay?”

His strong arms engulfed you in a strong embrace; you immediately melted into him.

“Okay,” you quickly kissed his neck, your arms still firmly holding onto his bigger ones. “But we have to beat them at the PDA game. If you even think about touching me in front of them, I will break your fingers, got it?”

“Hey!” Jungkook called out while you exited the room, following behind you. “What if you can’t keep your hands off me? That’s also a possibility!”

“Pfff,” you mocked, walking down the stairs. “Likely story.”

Downstairs, you were met with the smell of warm apple cider. The warmth of the house in contrast to the freezing cold weather outside solidified the Christmas experience.

“We should watch Love Actually!” Sasha enthusiastically suggested.

“Oh my god, yes!” you immediately agreed with her, reciprocating the enthusiasm.

The two men looked at each other with unimpressed glances, both knowing the girls were going to end up getting what they wanted anyway, so there was no need to protest.

“Why do you look like that?” you challenged Jungkook when you noticed the exchanged glances. “You love a good rom-com; we always watch rom-coms when I come over!”

“Yeah, but it’s not like we’re actually watching them,” Jungkook implied with a sly smile, slowly groping your waist and kissing you.

Taehyung and Sasha watched the scene with amusement.

“Aaand,” Sasha suddenly moved to the fridge with a pen in her hand, where she had hung a piece of paper that said “Tae&Sasha vs. JK&YN.” “That goes on the list.”

You feigned anger at Jungkook, scolding him. “What did I just tell you about touching me?”

“Sorry, baby; you’re just so grabbable,” he cooed.

You all sat down on the spacious couch facing the TV as Taehyung put on Love Actually.

“Not a real word,” you grumpily replied.

“It is now.”

_

After the movie was finished, Taehyung had the idea to open presents, so everybody went and got their presents.

You got a present for Jungkook and one for Sasha; Sasha got one for you and one for Taehyung; Taehyung got one for Sasha and one for Jungkook; and Jungkook got one for Taehyung and one for you.

“Okay, during gift exchanges, we are allowed to kiss as much as we want without it getting put on the list, alright?” Sasha put out the rule, which everybody agreed with.

“Okay,” Taehyung took a sip of his wine. “Who wants to start?”

“Ladies first,” you replied, eating popcorn. “I think Sasha and I should give each other our presents first.”

“I’ll go first,” Sasha couldn’t contain her excitement as she handed you the stylish pink gift bag.

You took it with a cute “thank youuu” and started unwrapping the gifts; there were three wrapped gifts of different sizes. You decided to open the smallest one first and go from there.

All three of them watched with curiosity as you carefully unwrapped it, revealing a Fenty Beauty contour stick. “Oh my god! I was just about to buy that for myself, S; thank you so much.”

“I know! You ran out of yours,” she grinned like a baby, wiggling with joy. “Go on, go on.”

The second gift was a gua sha, something you had mentioned you wanted to buy before but never did. You felt absolutely loved, knowing you had a friend who remembered those things about you.

The big present was a Vogue journal, which you took the time to admire; it was the most beautiful thing ever. “Oh my god, Sasha! I love you; come here.”

You hugged for a while, really expressing your gratitude.

“Is that going on the list?” Tae asked humorously when you finally pulled away from the hug.

“Okay, now it’s time for your present,” you pulled out the box of presents.

Sasha was all about clothes and fashion, so it was always easy to buy her presents. You got her sunglasses, a chic Ralph Lauren sweater, a personalized gold necklace that said “Sasha Fierce,” and a scented candle. She flipped out and went in for another hug.

“I have the best best friend ever!” she yelled out. “Now, Jungkook and Yn, you give each other your gifts. I’m very curious.”

Jungkook clapped his hands together as if he were waiting for this very moment a long time, and you sheepishly handed your present to him.

With each gift he opened, his smirk grew bigger in appreciation. He held the massage gun with a grin. “We can use that for other stuff too, you know?”

You giggled like a schoolgirl in love, forgetting that your other friends were there for a moment, cuddling up to his side comfortably. “Read the card.”

“Jungkook’s wish card,” he started reading. “Yn Ln has to do whatever Jungkook Jeon wishes as soon as he pulls out this card; she is not allowed to object. Valid until next Christmas. It’s even laminated; wow.”

Everybody started laughing, admiring your creativity. Jungkook kissed you passionately with a “thank you, my baby; you know me so well,” whispered in your ear, followed by a “I’ll put those panties to good use,” that sent shivers down your spine as you leaned in for another kiss.

“Okay, Yn, now you open Jungkook’s gift!” Sasha ordered, so you did.

Jungkook’s present was a huge box that you carefully put in your lap and opened. In it lay a big diamond-encrusted Birkin bag.

You and Sasha gasped in disbelief, lost for words.

“Hope you like it, baby,” Jungkook stated with a brush on your arm when you sat in silence for a few seconds.

“I love it!” you shouted, jumping on him and kissing him all over his face and simultaneously banging at his chest with your small hands. “How could you do this?! I hate you so much!”

Taehyung was beyond confused, not knowing what the fuss was about but still able to appreciate the beauty of the bag.

Jungkook just laughed at your changing moods that he got used to by now and kissed you back, his hands on your waist. “Just wanna make you happy.”

After the chaos that Jungkook’s present brought died down a little, Taehyung and Sasha exchanged their gifts; for Sasha, a Dyson Airwrap that she went crazy for, and for Taehyung, a vintage camera he adored.

The rest of the evening was filled with storytelling, snacks, and stolen kisses until you all decided to go upstairs and call it a night.

-

“I can’t believe you got me a Birkin bag,” you whispered into his chest as you just stood in the middle of the bedroom, hugging.

You were both very physical people; it was something that Jungkook made you realize about yourself.

“What did you think I was gonna get you?” he asked, amusement lacing his voice as he rocked you back and forth.

You thought about it for a moment and quickly came to the conclusion that it wasn’t at all out of character for Jungkook to get you an extravagant gift. “Okay, it actually totally makes sense that you got me a Birkin bag. But it’s not even my birthday; it’s Jesus’ birthday.”

Jungkook laughed heartily and kissed the top of your head. “I’ll get him one next year. Now, let’s go; I wanna take a shower.”

After taking everything you need with you, you entered the bathroom together and locked the door behind you before you both started undressing.

Jungkook’s eyes roamed over your bare body hungrily as you entered the shower just behind him and let your hair down carefully.

“I haven’t washed my hair in three days; it’s time to do that now,” you stated, grabbing the shampoo bottle, but before you could open it, Jungkook grabbed you by the hips and leaned in to kiss you.

The warm water streamed down your bodies as you deepened the kiss, and his wandering hands were now on your ass. You looked up and down his sculpted body, getting aroused by the sight of him all hard and muscular.

“Remember the first time I had you in the shower?” he breathed against your full lips, kneading your ass. You simply nodded. “Let’s recreate that.”

You would have lied if you had said that your pussy wasn’t wet since the morning and that you hadn’t been waiting desperately to have sex with him the entire day, but you had to wash your hair now. “Jungkook, I gotta wash my hair; sorry.”

“Give me that,” he nodded to the shampoo bottle, which you handed to him. “Now, turn around.”

Once you turned around, he moved your hair to the side to reveal your entire back and grabbed you by the hips. He fisted his huge dick before slowly entering your ass. He squeezed some shampoo into his hand and started massaging your hair with it.

You gasped, “Jungkook!” before leaning into him closer until your ass hit his hips. He first started thrusting slowly, letting out low grunts that sent shivers down your spine before his thrusts began to hasten.

You arched your back, and your moans became louder; the clapping of his hips against your ass sounded like fireworks. You were sure if there were any neighbors, they would’ve heard you.

“You like that, huh?” Jungkook growled, head tilted back in pure pleasure. “You like when I’m fucking this fat ass, yeah? This ass was made for me to drill.”

“Yes, I love it, Kookie,” your desperation was palpable. “Please, don’t stop; don’t ever stop.”

His hands massaged your hair again, as if to not abandon it, before he suddenly lifted you up with ease and started fucking into you like you were a toy. He was hitting all the spots, your chest bouncing up and down, and your combined moans had never been louder.

“You feel so fucking good,” Jungkook grunted, his hands finding the opportunity to spank you harshly. “Just a little more, baby. I’m 'bout to cum; fuck, I’m 'bout to cum.”

Your own orgasm was nearing too, but you were too lost in your pleasure to say anything. A few thrusts later, you felt a warm flood of cum enter your ass and a breathless Jungkook kissing your neck.

You collapsed against Jungkook, whose strong hands held you upright. “You exhausted, baby?”

You nodded, with a pout on your lips. “Can’t feel my legs right now.”

Jungkook chuckled, cleaning your body with your coconut body wash. “It’s okay, baby; I’ll clean us up, and then we’ll go to bed.”

_

The next morning was surprisingly sunny, yet still freezing. You went downstairs to find everybody already awake; you blamed the sex you had last night for the fact that you woke up so late.

“Morning, princess,” Jungkook called out with a big grin. “You sleep well?”

Sasha chimed in, sarcastically, “Yeah, Yn, did you sleep well?”

You simply nodded and said, “Yeah, what about you guys?” before going up to the fridge to get something to drink when you saw something.

There was another line added to yours and Jungkook’s side of the sheet.

“Hey, why is there another strike on here?” you asked in disbelief. “The only PDA that happened was yesterday before opening presents!”

Sasha and you were truly the only ones invested in this competition; the guys just looked at each other in amusement, finding their girlfriends absolutely adorable.

“Are you serious?” Sasha snapped. “That show you two put on last night was very much PDA; we heard everything! Right, baby?”

Taehyung vigorously nodded his head as if not to give her a reason to be mad.

“Well, I’m sorry, but that’s not PDA if you didn’t see anything!” you argued. “It’s called a display of affection for a reason!”

“You disrupted our sleep! It deserves to be on here,” she declared with conviction.

“I’ll tell you where you deserve to be—” you started until Jungkook cut you off.

“It’s okay, baby; we’ll get them back soon enough,” he assured you with a cute smile. “Just eat breakfast before you say things you might regret.”

You simply abided by his wishes and sat down next to them at the kitchen table and started eating.

_

After spending two hours hiking and exploring the little town, you and Sasha were exhausted, but the guys weren’t; they actually decided to go to the gym, which was about a 20-minute drive from the cabin.

While they were at the gym, you and Sasha cozied up on the living room couch, her legs over yours.

“This is so much fun,” Sasha dreamily said. “We are best friends dating best friends; I love that for us.”

“Hmmm,” you agreed. “I feel like I can’t imagine it any other way, you know? Like Jungkook and I have been dating for two months—not even—and I already can’t imagine a life where I’m not with him.”

Sasha smiled softly. “And to think this is the guy that you rejected for two years…”

“I know! This is what’s kind of scaring me,” you started ranting. “Jungkook has been into me this whole time, and now, now he has me. I’m scared that there was a version of me inside his head that I can’t live up to, you know?”

Taking a sip from her orange juice, Sasha pulled a confused face. “I think that’s you overthinking because why would that even be the case? He has you now, but the effort he puts into making you happy didn’t go away; actually, on the contrary, he’s putting in more effort because the guy loves you, Yn.”

Your heart warmed at the mere thought of Jungkook, a man who made every other man look less than.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you stated. “You know how I get when something is so good that it doesn’t feel real; I’m just really paranoid. It doesn’t matter; tell me what’s up with you and Mr. Taehyung.”

Sasha suddenly started to smile like a child in a candy store. “He’s so amazing, Yn! But I gotta tell you something…”

Your eyes widened in curiosity. “What? What is it?”

She took a deep breath before saying, “Okay, so… you know how Tae and Jungkook are graduating this year and Tae already got an offer to work again at this firm after? Well, he’s been hinting at… marriage a lot lately, and I… I found a ring while I was sleeping over at his place last week.”

You jumped up with your hand over your mouth. “SHUT UP! This is sooo exciting; oh my god, this is just… this is so amazing!”

“Yeah,” she formed a small smile. “But I don’t know… I feel like I don’t know if I’m ready for marriage yet; it’s so huge.”

You put her head on your chest and soothingly ran your hand over her shoulder. “Sasha, you think about this as much as you need, but if you want to hear my opinion on it, I think if he does propose, you should at least consider it. I mean, you don’t have to get married right away! You can take your time; it will be exactly like now, but you’ll just have a ring on your finger.”

Sasha started to grin like an idiot. “I mean, it is a very impressive ring; I can’t deny that.”

“Oooh, well don’t leave me hanging; I want the deets!”

_

Meanwhile, the guys finished their gym session and made their way to the nearest store to get everything you needed for the Christmas dinner you were going to cook.

Jungkook held the list in his hand, smiling down at it as his eyes scanned over your handwriting, which he adored.

“What are you smiling about?” Taehyung inquired.

“Nothing, just Yn’s pretty handwriting,” Jungkook shook his head and smiled cutely.

Taehyung chuckled. “Finally got your girl, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook shined with pride. “Finally.”

Suddenly, in the middle of the snacks aisle, Taehyung stopped, holding a bag of chips.

“I need to tell you something, man,” Taehyung began, as if deep in thought, to which Jungkook simply nodded at him. “So, I’ve been bringing up the idea of… marriage a lot with Sasha, but she’s kinda—how do I say this—she gets dismissive whenever I mention it, changing the topic, looking kinda uncomfortable, and I’m scared that when I propose, she won’t say yes.”

Jungkook searched for the right words to say, wanting to comfort his friend. “Well, I think you should communicate it with her. When girls do that, it doesn’t necessarily mean they aren’t into you; they just overthink everything, see every possible outcome first, you know? And hey, just take me as an example; I hopelessly chased Yn for two years; now she’s my girlfriend. The important thing is you don’t give up.”

“I know she loves me, but she acts so weird whenever I say anything—even the most subtle thing about getting married—and you know I’m really good at being subtle!” Taehyung’s frustration was evident. “I already got the ring; I’m just waiting for the right moment, just waiting for her to give me the feeling that she wants this.”

“Maybe this subtlety is what isn’t working,” Jungkook suggested. “Sometimes, you just need to be honest, direct; say what’s on your mind.”

Taehyung looked at him, dumbfounded. “Ey, just ‘cause there isn’t a subtle bone in your body doesn’t mean everybody’s like that, okay?!”

Jungkook chuckled, recognizing the conflict within his best friend. “Alright, you do you, but if it were me, I’d listen to the master.”

“The master of what exactly? Making a fool of himself?” Taehyung jested. “You waited two years for that girl to say yes to a date; man, you’re no master of anything.”

“Ey, man, don’t piss me off!”

_

After lazily sitting on the couch, you both decided to bake Christmas cookies to kill some time until the guys came back.

Following the sound of Taehyung’s car pull up in the driveway, Jungkook entered the house with two bags filled with groceries and snacks, Taehyung following behind him with equally filled bags.

“Hey, you two!” you welcomed them. “How was the gym?”

“It was good, baby. We went to the store, got you everything you wanted,” Jungkook stepped into the kitchen, where you and Sasha just finished baking the cookies, and was about to kiss your lips, but you threateningly shook your head, the competition still on your mind.

To make up for the lost kiss, though, you grabbed a cookie and held it up to his mouth.

“A cookie for my Kookie,” you leaned towards him over the kitchen counter, accentuating your breasts, feeding him the cookie playfully.

His knowing smirk spoke volumes as he ate the cookie, already mentally preparing for the things he was going to do to you once you’re in your room.

Taehyung brought up the last bag of groceries and greeted his girlfriend with a big smile and an even bigger kiss, which she immediately reciprocated passionately.

“Ha-ha!!” you yelled, gloating. “Finally, I can put you down on the list!”

You danced happily, without noticing Jungkook watching you with heart eyes.

After cleaning the counter and organizing the groceries, you got started on your huge Christmas meal: a roast turkey with stuffing, mashed potatoes, yams, roasted vegetables, and cornbread.

After four hours of you slaving away in the kitchen and all three of them asking if you wanted help— to which you always replied “No! I hate it when I’m cooking and someone’s in my space!”—you finished your feast, and Taehyung went on to prepare the pumpkin pie for dessert.

_

After stuffing yourself with food and brushing your teeth, everybody went to their respective bedrooms.

You opted for stretchy, tight shorts and Jungkook’s sweater (that you stole), and Jungkook was in his boxers. Comfortable in each other’s arms, you two laid on the spacious bed in serene silence.

Deciding to break the silence, you leaned into him and asked, “How was it with Taehyung today?”

Jungkook sighed softly, touching your head with his lips gently and replied, “It was nice; he’s got a lot on his mind though.”

Curiosity took over you for a second, and your mind raced with the possibility of it being the same thing Sasha talked to you about. “What about?”

His hands were now rubbing your back under the thick covers, adding warmth to your skin.

“I feel like there’d be a conflict of interest if I told you,” he admitted hesitantly. “It’s about Sasha.”

Your heartbeat quickened for a second until you decided to play a game. “I think I know what it’s about…”

“Yeah?” Jungkook smirked at you, challenging. “What is it about?”

“You go first,” you provoked, a finger poking his chest. “Unless you don’t wanna have sex for a week.”

“Okay, so,” he gave in immediately, sitting up straight, symbolizing his readiness to have a conversation about your friends. “Taehyung wants to propose to Sasha, but he thinks she doesn’t wanna marry him.”

“Yeaaah,” you said, unimpressed. “She already knows all of that.”

Jungkook expressed his shock, raising his eyebrows in a questioning manner, which he quickly changed back to normal. “No, you don’t understand; he even bought her a ring.”

You nodded, still unimpressed. “And he’s apparently really bad at hiding it.”

“No!” Jungkook exclaimed in disbelief. “Haha, bastard thinks he’s so subtle too…”

After his short gloating session, he suddenly turned to you face to face, curiosity written all over his face. “So?? What does she think? Is she into the idea, or completely against it, or what?”

“It’s complicated,” you explained. “She loves him, but she has so much to think about. On one hand, she feels like she’s not ready for such a commitment, and on the other, she wants nothing more than to spend her life with him.”

“Oof… well that’s better than what Tae thinks; he’s kinda convinced she doesn’t want it at all,” Jungkook let out a relieved sigh. “I mean, he’s not gonna propose tomorrow; he’s just thinking more like… next couple of months, you know?”

“Yeah, I told Sasha that she should take it into consideration; I mean, they have been together for almost two years now,” you observed, your head now on his chest. “And he has a stable future ahead of him. I understand why he wants to propose now; doesn’t mean they have to get married immediately.”

Your conversation made Jungkook ponder what your reaction would be if you found an engagement ring at his place; if you would panic, if you would cry tears of joy or sadness. He hoped you knew all the comments and “jokes” he made about making you his wife weren’t jokes.

“You’re right,” he agreed with you in a soft tone. “But promise me something.”

“What?” you asked.

“If there was ever a similar problem in our life, the only people we talk about it with is us,” he asserted. “I don’t ever wanna make you feel you can’t come to me and tell me everything, okay?”

“I promise,” was your answer.

_

On the last day of that weekend getaway, all of you—Jungkook—thought it was a nice idea to go paragliding as an exciting farewell to the mountains. Despite you thinking you were going to die, you ended up agreeing that it was a great experience to make.

Eventually, you had to say goodbye to the little cabin that would forever hold a special place in your heart.

The departure would’ve been much more emotional if it weren’t for Taehyung’s and Sasha’s triumphant expressions as they watched you and Jungkook clean and scrub the entire house while they sat comfortably on the couch, making out.

__

thank you sm for the support on my first post on here 🥹 if you have any requests pls pls send them to me!! also i’m sorry, i don’t really know what a tag list is. tell me your opinion on this one!! thanks ❄️

[biteyoubiteme]

cat got your tongue?

yeonjun x fem!reader

synopsis: you and yeonjun are both models.

warnings: 🔞!!! spit kink if you squint, no protection, creampie, dom!yeonjun, manhandling, bondage (uses his tie on readers wrists), fingering, oral (f!rec),mentions of cum eating prob forgot some sorry

wc: 2.7k me when I lie and say these will all be 1-2k

an: I do not think this is my best work I think I just struggle with dom!member and I apologize lol this wasnt really requested but was taken as such ily @apeachty this was sent before the event post but on the same day so im adding it to the tag anyways lol this is not proof read forgive me sweet angels ill fall on my sword for you.

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

You would have to spend over a month traveling together. Over a month of back and forth, car rides, fights, hotel rooms, runways, and photo shoots all while trying to deny dating rumors. The contract was easy enough, but the money earned was less impressive than the exposer. To be the face of a company for an entire season, tied to one of the biggest names in modeling history, not only the fashion house but the model himself who set trends and made people famous for one little interaction. It was a brand deal people dreamed of. 

The pen cleared the signature box faster than you ever thought you could sign your name. But then the nerves set in. It wasn't over doing your job, modeling, although hard, was now second nature. You worked well with almost every photographer you came across, following instructions without a fret, even when it came to runway you knew your walk was one companies begged to have on their sets. 

But it was him that left you questioning your abilities. He had been the only clause in the contract that made you second guess yourself. Yeonjun was well known not only in the modeling community itself but globally. His face was splashed across countless brands, ads, and billboards. You couldn't go a day without seeing him at least once on your timeline. Even at the grocery store, in line at the checkout, he looked back at you with his perfect pouty lips from the front of a magazine you could only dream of being on the cover of as often as he was. 

“You were specifically asked for,” your agent reminded you after you brought up the status difference. It wasn't as if you were not known, companies wanted you well enough that you wouldn't need the check from this single one month booking. It was the caliber at which he was held. “They want you and I wouldn't be the one to turn them away when this much press will be on you. Imagine the number of people calling to get one shoot in with you, he brings eyes,” 

It wasn't until your first photoshoot that you realized that he would be more of a pain in your ass than an inspiration. He was never mean, you would have to give him that. But it was his overwhelming kindness mixed with the teasing tone he always used on you that somehow pushed your buttons just right. It didn't help that the first time that you walked into the studio you were so shy, little smiles shared with your hands folded in front of you trying to wring out your anxiety. Yeonjun wasn't even on set yet, having shown up a few minutes later with his arms full of coffee, passing them out to each staff member, knowing them all by name. “It's nice to meet you finally. I didn't know what you would like but this is what I picked out for the little mouse,” 

“Little mouse?” it was the first thing you said to him, your head tilted just enough for him to take in the question and know the slip up of a nickname was going to stick especially when you couldn't get through the photoshoot without an apology. Shoulders stiff with his eyes on you, your nerves making you angry instead of anxious and it all had to do with the little grin set at the edge of yeonjun mouth. “I'll just step out,” and you hated how improved your film was from his absence, your heart calming down its rapt beading. 

Of course you got over it eventually, or at least the stiffness. You couldn't afford to be stiff when standing next to yeonjun who was naturally relaxed about everything. He would slink to his spot on set, lay his lazy gaze in your direction, and get all of his shots in the minimal amount of frames as if he was born to be in front of the camera. It was annoying. 

The two of you would be set up next to each other in hair and makeup, your bottom lip is finely brushed with the end of a glosses wand when he would lean on the back of your chair. His hands were always just hovering over your shoulders, never quite touching but enough to feel the heat from his palms, his head leaning next to yours looking back at you in the mirror, “You guys did such a good job, don't we just look like the perfect pair?” he would quirk an eyebrow at you, the two of you staring each other down while the staff agreed, but he was always waiting for your answer, “don't we little mouse?” 

“If you think so,” your response always made him chuckle as if you didn't see the way the media was talking about your contract together, as if you didn't feel the chemistry between the two of you. People were still talking about your first runway together, the closing of the show for one of the best collections put on display that week. 

The lead up was so chaotic, with dressing rooms stacked full of models and assistants, the floor a mess of people undressing and trying to make their quick changes as fast as they could before their names were called. Even yeonjun could feel the pressure in the room, the two of you in your designated corner stripping down back to back. 

The crowded space made everyone bump into each other. For the smallest second you were caught by the sight of him taking his shirt off, pulling it at the back of his collar showing the way his jeans hung so low on his hips that his happy trail was on display. You had turned, taking off your shirt, shoulder knocked by someone coming to do your hair, it made you stumble back into yeonjun, his hand right at the small of your back holding you upright as you fumbled with the zipper on your pants. “Careful,” he muttered, your heart in your ears as you kicked your shoes away from your space. 

The two of you were used to seeing each other in different versions of undress after all the photoshoots shared together. Comfortable enough now to be somewhat friends after all the car rides, the few interviews, and hours spent on a set together. It's what you accounted for as your key element to having such a good walk together on the runway. Every step matched, the energy vibrating off the two of you as if you had been a duo your whole life instead of just having been paired together less than a month ago. 

Even at the afterparty people swarmed you two, asking about your relationship as if they could sense the livewire of that conversation hanging around your heads. It was the first time you had ever seen him flustered enough to stutter over an answer. “I um- you never know,” 

The paparazzi loved the two of you, the crowd outside any event was packed full of them, their cameras following you around the city. The two of you always shared a car to your hotels, yeonjuns hand warm in yours leading you through the flash of every blinding light while you tried to shield your eyes. He would pull you in front of him when you finally reached the waiting car door, hand on your back gilding you in before climbing in after. 

Even shutting the door behind the two of you only muffled the sounds of their questions to a faint murmur. It isn't until the car pulls away from the venue that yeonjun speaks up. 

“You did well tonight, you looked…” 

“Good, I hope,” 

“You always look good, better than good, i was trying to come up with a different adjective,” it wasn't the first time he's complimented you, but it never stopped you from logging it away to giggle over it in private. “Sometimes I don't know what to say to you,” 

You chuckle, “I never took you as shy,” 

Strands of his hair hang in his eyes, head tilted just enough to catch what little light makes it in from the tinted windows, “no, not shy, just cautious,” 

“What, afraid you'll break me? Hurt my feelings? Or maybe my ego will get too big,” 

He lets out a soft breathy laugh, the sound taking up the space in the backseat. You loved the way his chuckles went down your spine, like a caress of his fingers on the skin you wished he touched. “You’d let me get close enough to break you?” 

“I don't think you could,” it's a light jab and yet it sets everything off kelter. The car ride charged with an energy you couldn't get back into its box. Now opened, the two of you looked back at each other as if you hadn't felt this pot simmering over. 

His eyes flickered down to your mouth, his tongue running over his bottom lip before he shrugged, “Okay,” he loved that you wanted to play this game with him, as if you hadn't always been slowly picking away at the short wall between you two. It was inevitable that you would end up pressed up against the mirrored walls in the elevator up to your hotel floor. 

He wasn't even going to do anything, he was going to let you go to your room while he mulled over your conversation, picturing exactly what he wanted to do to you. But then you leaned back against those mirrors, your body reflected around him as the doors slid closed behind him. Your eyes traced the line of him, lashes hooded just enough for you to look through, like a siren on the rocks, beckoning him closer. You didn't stop him when he cupped your jaw, thumb running over your bottom lip, nose dipping to yours. Even when he gave you enough time to pull away, lips ghosting over yours when he asked, “You'll be good for me, won't you?” 

Your answer is hummed right into his mouth when he kisses you, devouring you, pushing you into the corner giving you nowhere to go. His body is hot against yours, cageing you in as he kisses down your jaw, sloppy wet spots cooling in the air as he nips at your neck. “God, imagine them having to cover up all the marks I leave on you during tomorrow's shoot,” his hand is heavy on your hip, dragging down you cup your cunt over your jeans, “Everyone is going to know I fucking ruined this pussy for anyone but me,” 

Your whimper is eaten by the sound of the doors opening behind him, your tight grip on his shirt not loosening when he drags you out after him. He pushes you to his bed when you get past the threshold of his door. His slow walk to the nightstand to flick on the light gives you enough time to think about exactly what's happening. 

He loosens his tie, veiny hands curled around the fabric as he nods his chin in your direction, “Take your clothes off,” it was only a few hours ago when he saw you topless, and yet your fingers shake when you reach for your hem. “Don't be shy now little mouse, always all talk and no play,” 

The heat on your cheeks spreads to your ears at the nickname. Yeonjun takes to matching your state of undress by tossing his tie next to you before unbuttoning his shirt, the outline of him in his pants is mouthwatering. He watches the way you try to speak, hands twisting in the duvet not realizing he's come up so close to you before he's hooked his hand on your chin, tilting your head up before slipping his thumb into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. He swirls the digit around, grinning at how willing you are to follow his command even without words, “one day ill fuck this pretty mouth, but for now, I need you on your hands and knees for me,” he shoves your face away, putting his slick finger in his mouth to taste you. 

Turning around and having him at your back is both chilling and exhilarating, not knowing when he's going to touch you until his hands are sliding up your back, unhooking your bra, and letting it fall off of you. He lets his hand press between your shoulder blades, pushing down hard enough for your arms to give way beneath you, the side of your face pressed into the sheets. “Every photoshoot I kept thinking about what it would be like to finally get you into my bed, I kept thinking about how I would finally fuck you, how exactly I could use your body,” 

His hands slide down your arms, tugging them behind you until you whimper, the silky material of his tie sliding along your fingers as he wraps up your wrists to keep you in place. “And every time I just came right back to thinking about putting you just like this, fucking you dumb; using you like my perfect little toy,” 

With one hand holding your tied wrists his other slips down to tease you over your soaked panties, fingers following the lines of your cunt like he was made to map you out by touch. You can't even form words and he hasn't done anything, your pathetic little whimpers pushing him further and further. “So quiet now, I wonder if it's because someone's scared I'll break her?” 

“Please,” it's so soft you don't think he's even heard you, but he's aching for every little sound. 

“Please what? What do you want me to do?” he pushes your panties aside, grinning at how wet you've gotten over so little. Your hips push back into his hand, his fingers slipping into you just enough to prep you for the stretch of taking him. 

“Fuck me, break me, anything-” he's so quick to press his cock into you that you're gasping losing all thoughts. His fingers had done little to let you grasp the sheer size of him, even all your slick couldn't help that pleasure mixed with pain as his tip kissed your cervix. 

He doesn't even hold off from moving, not once he's finally felt your warm gummy walls sucking him, so perfect he doesn't know how he will ever stop from coming back to you. He keeps one hand on your hip, fingers digging into your flesh, the other wrapped around the slack of his tie, tugging your arms and using them as leverage to keep his harsh pace as he fucks into your greedy cunt. 

You feel so full, so completely stuffed that you're a mess of incoherent moans mixing with the slapping sounds of your connecting bodies. Yeonjun is mesmerized by the way your ass ripples with each slap of his hips; mesmerized by the way his cock is disappearing in and out of you. “So fucking perfect,” he's grunting, “I'm going to fill up and then eat my little mouse out until she screams, kiss your pussy better after taking me so well, does that sound good?” 

“Yes, god yes!” Your voice is muffled by the way you are pressed into the mattress, arms slightly numb as he pummels himself into you, thrusts getting sloppier with the build up of his orgasm. He tells himself that he will pull out but then he's cumming, body shuddering as you clench around him, his rumbling moans following the steady pulse of his leaking cock. 

When he pulls out of you he watches the way the dribbling cream coats your puffy lips. Untying your hands he lets you roll onto your back, slotting himself between your legs and attaching his mouth to your swollen clit. Your fingers still gaining feeling fall to his hair, pulling on the strands and he brings your orgasm back to the surface. The obscene sounds coming from his fingers trying to match his previous pace makes him chuckle, the feeling of his laugh vibrating against your clit. It takes little work for you to tumble into your orgasm when he curls his fingers just right, your body following every command he lays down. 

His hand is covered in your combined cum when he's done with you, the stickiness capturing both of your attention before he shoves them into your waiting mouth.

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[once-upon-the-earth]

Crowley felt a little like a villain.

He was fittingly lurking; he stood in a corner of the bookshop, leaned on a shelf, features concealed in darkness. He had his arms crossed. If anyone were to come by, he was sure what they would see would be something creeping, yellow eyes in a lightless spot, something hidden, waiting to strike.

They wouldn't be entirely wrong.

Across the room, but still barely more than two meters away, the angel was shelving his books. Well, he called it taking inventory but Crowley was pretty sure he had kept perfect track of the two books he'd sold these past months and didn't need to go through the entire list again. He was simply reshelving for confusion's sake.

He was humming to himself while he went back and forth between his desk and the shelves. Something by Chopin, Crowley knew.

They'd been at a concert two days ago - not by Chopin, the man had been dead for over a hundred years, but by somebody who'd performed his songs. Aziraphale had been extremely excited about it. Crowley didn't care much for Chopin but the way the angel had looked at him when he said he'd gotten them tickets, and his excited face at the concert, half lit up by the stage lights, half in the cover of the auditoriums darkness…

He looked at the angel's fingers fluttering over an open book. The pinky ring he had a habit of playing with - Crowley suspected Aziraphale didn't even notice he was doing it, most of the time - glinted on his finger where his hand was splayed over a page.

The creases in his elbow. His ridiculous bowtie. His hair, that Crowley had never touched, yet still knew had to be just as soft as downy feathers.

Crowley was lurking in the darkness behind a shelf, arms crossed, scowl on his face as he watched Aziraphale. Crowley was hiding in the darkness and he wanted so much that he was shaking with it.

How easy it would be, to take those three steps to where Aziraphale was standing now, by his desk with the book, to snake his arms around him from behind, feel the fabric of the waistcoat beneath his fingers, soft and worn-down to nothing in the places where Aziraphale always rubbed it between his fingers. To hold him and fold his hands over the soft swell of his belly, as Aziraphale lifted his arms away from the book, shocked and simultaneously amused by Crowley's antics. To bury his face in the crook of Aziraphale's shoulder and let the scent of old books and vanilla overwhelm his senses.

"Angel", he'd whisper, lips brushing the soft skin just over the string of the bow tie and maybe it'd be that or maybe there'd be something in his voice but something would give Aziraphale pause, make him freeze. He could almost hear the soft "Oh", from the angel's lips as his hands would settle over Crowley's. His head would turn. "Crowley", he would say, the way he said his name sometimes that made Crowley's insides knot together with longing - like a prayer, like deliverance.

His hand would find Crowley's jaw, fingers curling around his ear, and Crowley's eyes would flutter closed at the touch, only to open in surprise when Aziraphale turned around in his arms and halted, close enough for the side of his nose to brush Crowley's.

It would be even easier to kiss him, then. The slightest movement forward would be enough and his own lips would be pressed against Aziraphale's soft ones, airlock-thight with want. The angel's pointed nose would graze Crowley's cheek, and he'd grab Crowley's arm just above his elbow, fingers firm as not to tremble, and his breath would ghost warmly over Crowley's chin when he opened his mouth -

"Crowley?"

He blinked and the pictures beneath his eyelids were gone.

Aziraphale had turned away from the book and was looking at him worriedly.

"You've been awfully quiet tonight, dear" he said. "Are you alright?"

Crowley swallowed audibly and smiled down at his crossed arms. "Uh, yeah, yeah," he mumbled. Aziraphale's eyes softened, mouth turning upwards. Crowley forced himself not to look at the lips he'd thought about kissing just seconds ago.

"'m fine."

It would be so easy, he knew.

If only there was a way to make Aziraphale want him to take those three steps closer.

a longing.

[my-castles-crumbling]

James's Amortentia

Hey guys! Someone requested I do some writing exploring the ways Amortentia can smell (that it doesn't always reflect romantic love) so I decided to so a series of microfics about it! I'm hoping to get a few of them done today.

Five

Fleamont had been a master potioneer since before James's conception, so James was raised around all types of potions. His father had taught him, when he'd deigned to be interested, about all different concoctions and their effects.

He'd smelled Amortentia for the first time when he was five.

He knew what it was and had a vague idea what it meant, so when he smelled the warm spices he associated with his mother's cooking and the deep mint that reminded him of his father's aftershave, he was only reassured. He loved his parents more than anything, after all. It made sense.

Twelve

Though he hadn't bothered to check how his Amortentia smelled as he grew, he wasn't shocked when he sniffed the colorless concoction and caught whiffs of the Quidditch Pitch and the Dorm and the Gryffindor Common Room. He cared deeply about his friends and, as he explained to Sirius, the depth one could love a friend was as deep or deeper than romantic or familial love.

So the swirls of the warm fire and the soil of the Pitch and warm spices and their messy Dorm and minty aftershave all mixed together, creating a wonderfully comforting scent.

Except for the one, poignant spike of lilies that was weaved throughout, sharp but somehow fleeting.

Fifteen

That scent of lilies drove him throughout the next few years. Every time he and his friends snuck a vial of Amortentia, he breathed in deeply checking to make sure the floral aroma was still there.

He became obsessed with the idea. That Lily Evans was his true love, that the potion deemed it so. Never mind that Lily Evans wore lavender perfume or used, according to Remus, vanilla-scented hair products. The potion knew best.

Seventeen

His entire worldview was changed in a single moment. The moment he found Regulus, newly escaped from Grimmauld Place, sitting silently on a bench in the Potter family garden, staring a thousand miles away.

And James felt his heart being pulled completely in the younger boy's direction.

"Alright?" he murmured, sitting next to him, wondering why he felt so compelled to be close.

"No," Regulus mumbled, not looking up.

But James just sent him a small, reassuring smile. "You will be," he whispered, reaching backward and grabbing a random flower off a stem and gently placing it into Regulus's hair.

It was only after he walked into the house, catching whiffs of his mother's cooking, that he realized, his mind zeroing in on the way the scent mixed with the floral one still wafting in from outside:

The flower he'd placed into Regulus's hair was a lily.

[janeyseymour]

Drunk Actions, Sober Thoughts- part 2

Part 1 @theboreworms @schemmentisbaby @ literally everyone else who bullied me into writing a part 2, i hope this lives up to your expectations.

Summary: Are drunk actions really sober thoughts?

WC: ~2.35k

When Melissa wakes up, she wakes with a groan. Jesus Christ, how much did she have to drink at Janine’s party last night? And who let her drink that- it hits her at a dizzying rate. Barbara was determined to get Sea Barbara to come out, which she succeeded in. And because she and the redhead usually go shot for shot with heavy handed pours, Melissa also got absolutely hammered. 

The second grade teacher turns, and she realizes she’s in her bed. How did she get- Holy shit. She vaguely remembers flirting with you the entire night. Does that mean you brought her home? Did she say anything stupid? Did she try to make any moves on you?

“Never goin’ shot for shot with Barbie again,” Melissa grumbles to herself as she reaches for her nightstand drawer to grab Advil. Of course though, there’s already a glass of water and two pills sitting nicely on top. She downs them and prays to God himself that this hangover will go away quickly.

Once she’s secure in the fact that she isn’t going to get sick standing up, the redhead makes her way out of bed, secures her reading glasses on her head, and heads downstairs. And sitting on the coffee table is your note. Her tired eyes can’t read your note without her glasses, so she pulls them down and sets them on the tip of her nose before scanning what you had written.

“Fuck,” Melissa mumbles to herself. “What the fuck did I do last night?”

As she cooks herself breakfast, memories come back in pieces. She remembers taking shots with Barbara, you coming in, dancing with you- her hand in your back pocket.

Meanwhile, at breakfast, you’re doing everything that you can to try to stay focused and pay attention to what your dad is telling you, but it’s quite difficult.

“What’s got you so distracted today, kiddo?” your father asks. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing, because it’s clearly something.”

You shrug. “Just… had a long night last night.”

“Why would that be?” your dad chuckles. “You knew you had to be up bright and early to be with your old man today.”

“My coworker had a party, and I ended up having to take my other colleague home,” you explain, and you quietly pray he doesn’t pry any further.

  Of course though, he does. “Was it that Melissa character?”

Your cheeks turn red at the memory of last night. “Yeah,” you mumble.

“What happened? Did you tell her how you feel?”

You shake your head. “Of course not. But, uh-” You scratch the back of your head. “She might’ve told me how she feels about me.”

“Oh?” your dad raises his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his coffee. “So what came of that?”

“Well,” you sigh softly. “Nothing yet. I had to leave to come meet you, but I told her I would come back so we could talk about it today.”

“Why the hell are you here with me, kid?” the man across the table asks you. “You should be there with her.”

“I wouldn’t cancel on you, dad,” you roll your eyes. “I haven’t seen you in a while, and I wouldn’t cancel on you.”

“Well, I’m telling you now to get the hell out of here and go to her.”

“We’re in the middle of breakfast.”

“And I’ll see you again next weekend,” your father tells you as he takes a bite of his hash brown. “Go get your girl, kid.”

“Are you being serious right now?”

He nods. “Go. I’ll be waiting for your call to tell me how it went.”

With a heavy breath blown out, you stand, grab your purse, kiss your cheek, and head out of the restaurant.

Your father watches you go before picking up his cell phone and calling your mother. “Jude, I think our girl might finally get her girl.”

“It’s about damn time, Bobby.” 

Your heart is racing by the time you pull back into Melissa’s driveway. You can see her silhouette through the window and take a deep breath for getting out of the car and making your way up to the house.

You have no idea how this is going to go, but you can only hope that it works out in your favor. You knock gently, and she’s at the door about thirty seconds later.

Her hair is up in one of the messiest buns you’ve seen, her glasses are on the tip of her nose, and even though she’s simply in her pajamas, you can’t help but think about how beautiful she looks right now. How waking up next to her this morning was something that you’ve wanted to do for a long time.

“Hey,” she sighs softly as she steps aside to let you in.

“Hey,” you reply just as gently. “How are you feeling this morning?”

She shrugs. “Woke up with a ridiculous hangover. Thank you for the Advil and water this morning.”

“Of course,” you chuckle quietly.

She gestures for you to come inside. “Well, are you going to just stand there, or are you going to come in?”

You make your way into the house on light feet and set your purse down on her couch. “I think we need to talk.”

“Yeah,” Melissa hums. “Listen, about last night… I’m really sorry if I crossed a boundary.”

You shake your head. “You didn’t cross any boundaries,” you promise her. “I just think we need to talk about the things that were said and done last night. How much of it do you remember?”

She relays to you what she remembers- drinking with Barbara, having you near her most of the night once you got there, the dancing… her hand placement.

“You remember more than I thought you would,” you can’t help but giggle. “Especially for how gone you were last night.”

“I’m sure there’s more that I’m not remembering,” the redhead scratches the back of her neck. “Care to fill me in?”

You worry your lip between your teeth for a few seconds before you sigh softly. “Mel, you… you kept telling people I was your girl. When I brought you home, you… you had me pressed up against the wall.”

The redhead’s mouth falls open in shock. “Holy shit.”

“You told me you have feelings for me and what you love about me,” you continue.

“I-” Melissa puts her head in her hands to hide her embarrassment. “I am so sorry.”

You shrug. “I wasn’t mad about it. I just- is that really how you feel about me?” You subconsciously tuck a stray hair behind your ear. You quirk your lips to one side and keep your eyes on the ground. If she didn’t mean what she told you last night, you don’t want Melissa to see the disappointment on your face. That would be beyond embarrassing. What you don’t see is the slight widening of Melissa’s eyes as she remembers something she said last night.

“Hun.” A soft hand cups your cheek and forces you to look into those jade eyes of her own.

“Mel,” you sigh softly. “It’s fine.”

Red hair sways back and forth gently as she shakes her head. “Drunk words and actions are sober thoughts,” she tells you the sentiment she slurred out last night. 

And then her lips are on yours again. And although she had kissed you before previously, you aren’t expecting it this time either. It takes you a few seconds to set your hands on her waist and pull her closer to you. When she pulls away, there’s a warm smile on her face, and her eyes are a softer shade of green than you’ve ever seen. The sparkle in them is as bright as ever.

“I meant what I told you last night,” Melissa tells you quietly. “I just… never thought I’d actually get the girl.”

“I thought I’d never get the girl,” you chuckle softly as you lean in to kiss her again. “Holy shit.”

“Just wait until you can see what else I can do,” the redhead smirks.

You end up spending the day with Melissa. It’s warm, it’s cozy. It’s quite similar to how you would usually spend a day with her outside of school, but there’s more stolen kisses, more hand holding, arms wrapped around your waist as you cook lunch and dinner together.

“So,” you hum out quietly as you sit next to her for dinner today. “I do think we should talk about what… this… is.” You gesture between the two of you.

“I don’t want no fling,” the redhead tells you. “I want you. And if that’s something that you can’t handle, then I think we need to call it-”

You stop her with a kiss. When you pull back you roll your eyes at her. “Melissa Schemmenti, I haven’t even been on a date since I started working at Abbott because the only person I can think about is you. I don’t want a fling either. I want you. I want this.”

She nods with that starry smile of hers. It dims a few seconds later though. “Do you think… think we can just keep this under wraps for a little bit? Like, at least with the work group?”

“You aren’t going to tell Barb?” you chuckle.

Melissa shrugs. “She’ll find out in her own time… probably when I drag you along to one of our brunches over the summer.”

You end up calling your father on the car ride home from your now girlfriend’s house.

“Kid?” your dad picks up. “Hey, I was expecting your call a little earlier than this. Is everything okay?”

“I’m good,” you sigh softly. “Sorry. I was just spending time with my girlfriend.”

You can hear your mother gasp in the background. “Girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend,” you confirm.

You can practically see smile on both of their faces. “Oh, how wonderful.”

“When do we get to meet her?” your mom asks loudly. You can faintly hear your father telling her that she doesn’t need to scream into the phone to be heard.

“I’m sure she’ll make an appearance sooner or later,” you laugh. “We are keeping it quiet for the time being, but… you’ll meet her over the summer.”

Your girlfriend ends up accompanying you to the family fourth of July picnic. As you could’ve guessed, your parents absolutely adore her. She’s the perfect amount of charming while also maintaining that mysterious and sarcastic aura around her. She’s great with your younger cousins, and also their parents. Quite a few of your family members end up pulling you aside to tell you that if you let her go, they’re taking her side in the matter. You just reply with the same thing each time: an eye roll and the statement, “I’m not planning on letting her go.”

The rest of July, you spend a lot of time down at the shore. Melissa and her ex-husband have a time share, and your now girlfriend prefers to use it during July while he would rather have June. It’s convenient the way that all worked itself out. You don’t think you’ve eaten so many curly fries in vinegar before this summer.

July passes by quickly, soaking in the sun, taking in the views (of your girlfriend in her bathing suit), resting and relaxing. And then August creeps up on you, and it’s about time for the two of you to begin thinking about going back to school.

“So we’re still keeping it on the down low?” you ask gently as you crawl into bed the night before professional development starts.

“I think so,” the redhead shrugs. “I like this little bubble that we’re in- don’t you?”

You smile and kiss her warmly. “I do.”

“An’,” your girlfriend shrugs again. “If they find out, they find out. Ain’t like we hiding it like Janine and Gregory.”

“I still can’t believe we saw them at the park last week and they didn’t see us,” you chuckle out.

You somehow manage to make it through the week of professional development, and your kids are starting back up before you know it. You’re down the hall in the classroom next to Gregory’s, and Melissa is right across from Janine. It’s a nice little square that the four of your classrooms make. And it’s funny as hell to both you and your girlfriend how obvious they’re being, and yet they somehow still think they’re so subtle.

You, Barbara, Ava, and Melissa all get pulled to do a talking head for one of the camera men. He asks what you think is going on between Janine and Gregory.

“We all know,” the four of you state at once. The four of you continue on to state that you have no idea how they could even think that they’re hiding their relationship- what dumb asses. The four of you aren’t dumb either, but none of you really care. Well, aside from Ava who thinks that it’s an insult to her intelligence. 

The four of you go to leave the hall from your interview, only for the camera crew to keep Barbara behind. Ava tosses her hair and saunters off while you and your girlfriend just smile at each other before parting ways.

“Are there any other changes that you’ve noticed over the summer?” he asks the kindergarten teacher.

Barb glances around to make sure no one is listening before leaning in just slightly. “Melissa and Y/N? Ooh, they are playing the same game that Gregory and Janine are. And I have a feeling… Gregory and Janine aren’t the only two who got it together that night at the end of the year party. Hmm.” She points to the two of you- you leaning against Melissa’s doorframe.

The camera quickly pans over to the two of you, and you don’t know it… but you and your girlfriend are just as bad as your counterparts. 

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead

[crazyvik97rpg]

Sebastian had William exactly how he wanted him – a cute, whimpering mess. He kept stroking him nice and steady, pecked his lips or cheeks as far as he could reach. His cock was hard as a rock the entire time, Sebastian’s hand was positively soaked already. Absolutely mind–blowingly sexy.

William told him how much he loved this, how much he had missed this, how much he missed him too. Sebastian loved hearing it. Being intimate like that after so long did feel great. And truth be told, it’s been a while ever since Sebastian had been in the mood. He wanted to make the most of it, simple as that.

So, he didn’t want to just finish him off with his hand, actually. As he said, he wanted to make the most of it. Who knew when he’d be in the mood again or lose his mood? Maybe he‘d be hurting more, maybe he would generally just feel off in the next days. So today was the day. Sebastian wanted them to indulge fully.

So, at some point he gave William a few more strokes, rubbed his wet thumb over the equally dripping tip before he pulled it out from under the blanket. There was a tent already, standing effortlessly above William’s crotch. Sebastian licked his fingers for a moment, making eye contact with his beloved.

„My my…a very needy one, aren‘t you“, he purred and then leaned in for a kiss. Just a quick one, but passionate at that. „You’re already making quite a mess…we can’t really have you cum like that, otherwise it‘ll be even messier, don’t you think?“, he smirked, nuzzling their noses together for a moment. But Sebastian already had a plan. He pulled down the blanket properly, revealing the tent that were William’s drenched pyjama pants – and then, he pulled at the waistband of those and revealed William’s delicious, hard dick.

„I think I know another way that…won’t be straining my good arm, dove“, he grinned, as if he was so clever for thinking of that. He sat up a little, patting William’s hip and stomach, gave his dick a few more loose pumps – so attractive… „Do you want to fuck my mouth? I can lie down and you go on top of me, that would be the easiest way of doing it. Hm? What do you think?“, he purred and looked at William, wondering – of course his hand was always around his dick. Heh, he could tell his boyfriend was very needy – the chances of him turning down a blowjob were very slim.

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[kiwriteswords]

Could I please get a fake dating or like Hotch jumps in to be Reader's date for a wedding or something story?

Everybody Loves Somebody

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: I keep telling myself that I want to post something every day of December, so let's see if I can keep this up! This one I fought myself back and forth if I liked it, so I hope you guys do! I also need to update my masterlist...like bad.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 13.5k

Tags/Warnings: Female Reader, BAU Reader, Hotch and Reader are Best Friends, Reader is being breadcrumbed by another guy, insecure reader, reader does not know her worth, weddings, mentions of alcohol in a wedding setting, smut, smut with feelings, smut that you have to use your imagination for in some points, not specified, but unprotected sex, one-bed-trope, romance, fluff, angst, eluding to reader being in toxic relationships before, hurt/comfort.

Sypnosis: At a wedding filled with laughter, romance, and unexpected revelations, You and Hotch find yourselves navigating the fine line between friendship and something more. What starts as a favor soon becomes a night of quiet truths and unspoken emotions, as the two of you grapple with feelings that can no longer be ignored.

Aaron Hotchner had long considered himself an observant man. It was, after all, an essential trait in his line of work. But when it came to you, his closest friend and confidant, observation was more than professional—it was personal. He prided himself on knowing you better than anyone else, even if the knowledge sometimes brought him a frustrating ache he didn’t dare examine too closely.

That ache flared again today as he glanced across the bullpen to where you sat at your desk. To the untrained eye, you were simply busy—typing emails, jotting notes, occasionally furrowing your brow in concentration. But Hotch knew better. The tight set of your jaw, the way your leg bounced beneath your desk, and the fact that you hadn’t laughed at any of Morgan’s jokes all afternoon—those were your tells. Something was wrong.

He waited until the team dispersed for lunch to approach. You didn’t notice him until he leaned against the edge of your desk, his arms crossed, and gave you one of his signature looks—the kind that said he was waiting for answers.

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence as you glanced up at him.

Hotch raised a brow. “You’re upset.”

You scoffed lightly, turning your attention back to your computer. “I’m fine.”

The evasion only confirmed his suspicions. “You’re not fine,” he said softly. “Talk to me.”

For a moment, you hesitated, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. Then, with a sigh, you leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms defensively. “It’s nothing, Hotch. Just... plans fell through, and I’m annoyed. That’s all.”

But it wasn’t nothing. He knew exactly what—or rather who—was behind this.

“Let me guess,” he said, his voice hardening despite himself. “It’s him.”

Your silence was damning.

Hotch felt his stomach twist. He hated this—hated how that man, who didn’t deserve an ounce of your time, could still have this hold on you. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen you like this—hopeful one minute, crushed the next. He clenched his jaw, reigning in the frustration that wasn’t entirely directed at the man.

Hotch remembered every instance in painful clarity.

The blown-off phone calls. The texts left unanswered for hours, sometimes days. The signs of interest one day, only for them to vanish into disinterest the next. It was a cycle so predictable it made Hotch’s blood boil, not just because it hurt you but because you still held out hope every time that this time would be different.

And then there were the worst moments—the ones that left marks even you couldn’t brush off.

There was the time you’d shown up to work after a rare weekend off, a hopeful sparkle in your eye as you mentioned that things finally seemed to be turning around with him. Hotch had wanted to believe it for your sake, but he’d barely had time to hope before you confided—over lunch in the BAU’s break room—that the man had stood you up for dinner, citing a “misunderstanding.” Hotch had gripped his coffee mug so tightly he thought it might crack.

Through it all, he’d stayed quiet. He’d been your friend, your colleague, your confidant. He’d listened when you needed to vent, offered advice when you asked, and let you lean on him when the weight of disappointment became too much. But inside, he’d been screaming.

Screaming at the man who couldn’t see the incredible person standing right in front of him. Screaming at himself for letting it go on for so long without saying more.

“What happened?” he asked, forcing his tone to remain gentle.

You sighed again, this time heavier. “My friend from college and grad school, Annie, is getting married this weekend. I had a plus-one, and—well, he was supposed to come with me.” Your voice wavered just slightly. “But he bailed last minute. Said he couldn’t make it because he’s ‘too busy.’”

Hotch’s jaw tightened further. Too busy? The excuse was laughable, infuriating, and so painfully predictable. He hated seeing the way you tried to downplay your disappointment as if his latest betrayal were somehow your fault.

“I don’t get it, Hotch,” you continued quietly, staring down at your desk. “I thought things were finally going somewhere this time. But he’s always—” You shook your head, blinking back tears. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m just—”

He wanted to tell you why. Wanted to tell you that you hoped because you were good, because you believed in people even when they didn’t deserve it. He wanted to tell you that your hope was one of the things he admired most about you—and the thing that tore him apart when it was weaponized against you.

“Stop,” Hotch interrupted, his voice firmer than he intended.

You blinked up at him in surprise.

“This isn’t about you,” he said, holding your gaze. “It’s about him. He’s a coward who doesn’t see what’s right in front of him. You deserve better than this—better than him. You do this because you care. But he doesn’t deserve it.”

You smiled weakly, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks, Hotch. But it’s not like I have a backup plan. It’s just one weekend. I’ll survive.”

Hotch watched as you tried to bury your hurt under a mask of indifference, but it didn’t fool him. He wasn’t sure when he made the decision—it was instinctive, like every protective impulse he felt when it came to you.

“Then let me go with you,” he said, the words spilling out before he could overthink them.

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“I’ll go with you to the wedding,” he repeated, his voice calm and steady. “If you’ll have me.”

The stunned look on your face made him wonder if he’d overstepped. But then your lips curved into a genuine smile—a rare one that he hadn’t seen all day.

“You’d really do that?” you asked softly.

He nodded, his own lips twitching into the smallest smile. “Of course. That’s what friends are for.”

You laughed—a light, incredulous sound that made something warm bloom in his chest. “Aaron Hotchner, my wedding date. Who would’ve thought?”

“It’s a first for me, too,” he admitted, his tone light but sincere. “But I promise, you won’t regret it.”

For the first time that day, Hotch saw a flicker of hope in your eyes, and he silently vowed to make good on his promise. Because whether you realized it or not, you deserved someone who saw your worth—someone who would never dream of leaving you hanging.

And if that someone couldn’t be him, he’d at least make sure you saw what it was like to be treated the way you deserved, even if just for one weekend.

Aaron Hotchner wasn’t sure how it had happened, but somehow, agreeing to accompany you to this wedding had become the most complicated logistical endeavor of his week. Which, considering he led a team of profilers tracking violent criminals, was saying something.

He sat across from you at the round table in the break room, a notepad in hand as you went over the details for the weekend. You were in full planning mode, leaning forward, your fingers tapping rhythmically against your coffee cup.

“So,” you began, grinning. “The wedding is in Stafford. I already booked a room because I wasn’t sure how late I’d stay, but now that you’re coming, I can probably cancel that and just—”

“You should keep it,” Hotch interjected.

You raised an eyebrow, your grin morphing into something sly. “Aaron, are you worried about your reputation? Afraid of being seen walking out of my hotel room in the morning?”

His lips quirked into the faintest smile. “I’m worried about getting enough sleep and having to share a room with someone who steals the covers.”

“Wow,” you deadpanned, pretending to clutch your chest. “Accusing me of being a cover thief without evidence. Profiling me already, Hotchner?”

“Call it an educated guess.”

Your laugh was light and easy, the sound wrapping around him in a way that momentarily made him forget you were planning this trip because someone else had let you down. He knew better than to dwell on that, though, especially now that you were in good spirits again.

“So,” you continued, brushing a strand of hair from your face, “you’re driving, right? You’ve got the serious FBI Dad car that won’t break down.”

Hotch raised a brow, unsure what quick-witted joke you were making at him. “FBI Dad car?”

“Yeah, you know,” you teased, gesturing vaguely. “Sturdy, reliable, no-nonsense. It practically screams, ‘I’m an authority figure, and I have juice boxes in the back seat for emergencies.’”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Yes, I’ll drive.”

Before you could respond, Morgan’s voice drifted in from the hallway.

“Sounds like we’re right after all,” he said, loud enough for both of you to hear.

Hotch turned to find Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi standing in the doorway, all wearing expressions ranging from smug to amused.

“Right about what?” Hotch asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Oh, nothing,” Morgan replied, but the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth said otherwise.

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow at the trio. “Okay, spill it. What conspiracy theory are you cooking up now?”

Prentiss smirked. “Oh, it’s not a conspiracy. Just a little… friendly office speculation.”

Rossi, ever the instigator, folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Let’s just say there’s a reason the betting pool has been so active lately.”

Hotch blinked, confused. “Betting pool?”

“On what?” you asked, your tone equal parts curious and incredulous.

Morgan didn’t miss a beat. “On when you two were finally going to get together.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, simultaneously:

“What?” Hotch said, his voice clipped with disbelief.

“Excuse me?” you said, your tone higher and filled with mock outrage.

The trio in the doorway looked utterly unfazed.

“Oh, come on,” Prentiss said, rolling her eyes. “You finish each other’s sentences, you bicker like an old couple, and don’t even get me started on the way you look at each other.”

You snorted. “The way we look at each other? What is this, a rom-com?”

Hotch held up a hand, his expression stern but his tone baffled. “This is absurd. We’re colleagues and friends. That’s it.”

Morgan raised a skeptical brow. “Friends, huh? You’re going to a wedding together. And if I’m not mistaken, Hotch just volunteered to drive—sounds pretty couple-y to me.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table. “Oh, Derek, sweet, sweet Derek,” you said, your voice dripping with exaggerated condescension. “Are you trying to tell me that I can’t ask my best friend to be my date to a wedding without it being some grand romantic gesture?”

Morgan grinned. “Not saying it, just calling it like I see it.”

Hotch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is ridiculous.”

Prentiss gave him a mock-serious look. “It’s not ridiculous if it’s true.”

“It’s not true,” you and Hotch said in unison, which only seemed to amuse the team further.

“Uh-huh,” Morgan said, exchanging a knowing look with Rossi.

Hotch turned to you, his lips pressing into a thin line. “They’re crazy.”

“Oh, 100%,” you agreed, giving him a quick, conspiratorial grin. “But let’s not correct them. Let’s just let them spiral into their own delusions. It’ll be fun to watch.”

Prentiss smirked. “You know we can still hear you, right?”

“Then you’re welcome for the entertainment,” you shot back, standing and grabbing your coffee cup.

As the team finally dispersed, still laughing and muttering amongst themselves, Hotch shook his head, bemused.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered.

“Hey, look at it this way,” you said, bumping his shoulder lightly as you passed. “At least now you’ve got a reputation as a fun wedding date. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Despite himself, Hotch felt a small smile tug at his lips. “Right.”

Hotch arrived at your apartment a few minutes early, the morning sun casting long shadows across the quiet street. He adjusted the cuffs of his suit jacket while waiting, catching himself fidgeting—a rare occurrence. He told himself it was because of the unfamiliarity of the situation, not because of you.

When you finally emerged, his breath hitched. You were dressed simply but elegantly, exuding a confidence that he found himself noticing more than usual. As you approached the car, you waved with a teasing smile.

“Wow, Aaron, I didn’t think punctuality extended to wedding duty,” you quipped, opening the passenger door.

He smirked as you slid into the seat. “You make it sound like this is an interrogation.”

“Depends. Will there be a polygraph at the reception?” you shot back, buckling your seatbelt.

Hotch chuckled softly, pulling away from the curb. “Let’s hope not.”

The silence between you was comfortable as the car rolled onto the highway. Hotch found himself glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. You were scrolling through your phone, your brow furrowing in that way it always did when you were deep in thought.

“So,” he began, breaking the quiet, “what’s the plan for the reception? Do I stand in the corner and look intimidating, or are you expecting me to charm your college friends?”

You turned to him with a mock-serious expression. “You’re under strict orders to charm, obviously. What’s the point of bringing you along if you’re just going to brood in a corner?”

“I don’t brood,” he replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, you absolutely brood,” you said with a grin. “But don’t worry—I’ll coach you. Step one: smile occasionally. It won’t kill you.”

Hotch shot you a dry look. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

Your laugh was light, but it held an edge of something deeper—something that lingered in the air between you like a static charge.

After a beat, you shifted in your seat, your voice softening. “You know, you really didn’t have to do this. I would’ve survived.”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “I know. But I wanted to.”

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. There was something in your gaze—a mix of gratitude and something unspoken, something he didn’t dare put a name to.

“Well,” you said, your voice tinged with a sly edge as you broke the comfortable silence. “If we’re doing this, we might as well make it fun. Tell me, Hotch—how’s your dancing?”

Hotch glanced at you, arching an eyebrow as his lips quirked into the faintest smirk. “Impeccable.”

You blinked, your grin faltering in mock surprise. “Wait, really? You can’t just say that and not elaborate.”

“I don’t think there’s much to elaborate on,” he said, his tone light but confident. “Years of events, fundraisers, and... the occasional gala. I can hold my own.”

For a moment, you simply stared at him, then let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, this is going to be fun. The FBI’s most stoic agent is secretly a Fred Astaire in disguise? Who knew?”

Hotch chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Don’t get your hopes up. I didn’t say I was flashy.”

“Flashy is overrated,” you replied, leaning back in your seat. “Grace, timing, presence—those are the real markers of a great dancer.”

“And you’d know this how?” he asked, shooting you a sidelong glance.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I took some lessons in college. Turns out I have two left feet, but I’m a great judge of talent.”

He smirked. “Two left feet? I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it,” you said, grinning. “So, looks like I’ll be depending on you to keep us from embarrassing ourselves on the dance floor.”

“I think we’ll manage,” he replied, his voice steady but laced with a quiet warmth.

There was something in the way you looked at him then, your teasing smile softening just enough to give away the unspoken tension humming beneath the surface. Hotch forced his attention back to the road, though his mind lingered on the way your presence seemed to fill the space around him so effortlessly.

“You know,” you said after a moment, breaking the silence with a playful tilt to your voice, “if you’re this good at dancing, I’m starting to think I’ve been seriously underestimating you.”

“Is that so?” he asked, his tone carrying the faintest hint of a challenge.

“Yeah,” you replied, tapping a finger against your chin in mock thought. “What other hidden talents are you keeping from me?”

Hotch smirked, but instead of answering, he let the question hang in the air, his silence calculated.

“Oh, come on,” you pressed, laughing lightly. “You can’t just drop a bombshell like that and leave me hanging.”

He shrugged, his expression unreadable but his tone unmistakably amused. “Maybe I like keeping you guessing.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

Your laugh filled the car again, bright and unrestrained, and Hotch allowed himself a small smile. It was moments like this—when the walls between you seemed to lower without effort—that he felt the tug of something deeper. Something he’d long ignored, even as it grew impossible to deny.

As the miles stretched on, the banter gave way to quieter moments, but the tension never left. It simmered beneath the surface, in the way your knee brushed against the center console, in the way his name sounded when you said it, in the way his gaze lingered on you just a little too long at every red light.

By the time you reached the venue, Hotch found himself gripping the wheel a little tighter, his usual composure shaken just enough to make him wonder if this was really just about being a good friend.

And judging by the way you looked at him as you stepped out of the car, he suspected he wasn’t the only one wondering.

By the time Hotch pulled into the parking lot, the late morning sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the small boutique hotel nestled on the edge of town. He stepped out of the car, grabbing your overnight bag from the trunk and trying not to notice the way your dress caught the light as you smoothed it out.

The lobby was quaint, adorned with rustic charm, and the check-in process was quick. Hotch couldn’t help but notice the faint blush that crept up your cheeks when the receptionist handed him a single key card.

“Enjoy your stay,” the woman said with a knowing smile, though Hotch couldn’t decipher if it was genuine or merely part of her routine.

As you both stepped into the elevator, you glanced at him, your lips twitching with amusement. “So, any guesses on the room situation?”

Hotch gave you a sidelong glance, his voice steady. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

But the moment the door to the room swung open, he realized "fine" was a stretch.

There it was. The single bed. Large and neatly made, taking up most of the modestly sized room.

You stopped in the doorway, your bag slung over one shoulder as you surveyed the scene. “Well,” you said after a moment, turning back to him with a raised eyebrow, “this is cozy.”

Hotch cleared his throat, stepping inside and setting your bag on the chair in the corner. “It’s practical,” he said, though even he didn’t believe the words.

You smirked, closing the door behind you. “I didn’t realize practicality came with a built-in proximity test.”

He gave you a faint look, his lips twitching despite himself. “If it’s an issue, I can take the floor.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” you said, brushing past him to set your phone on the bedside table. “We’re both adults. I think we can survive one night.” You looked back at him and had almost a nervous laugh, “Plus, I have to prove to you I’m not a sheet thief.” 

The confidence in your voice didn’t quite match the flicker of something else in your eyes—nervousness, curiosity, or perhaps the same undercurrent of tension he’d felt since the drive.

“Well,” you continued, shaking off the moment as you dug through your bag, “we don’t have much time before the ceremony, so I’m claiming the bathroom first. Try not to miss me too much while I’m gone.”

Hotch chuckled softly as you disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water quickly filling the room. He loosened his tie, sitting on the edge of the bed and glancing around. The space was neat, understated, with soft lighting that made everything feel strangely intimate.

He caught himself staring at the bathroom door longer than necessary, then stood abruptly, running a hand through his hair.

When you emerged a few minutes later, your face freshly washed and your lipstick reapplied, you looked radiant. Hotch found himself at a loss for words, though he masked it by stepping into the bathroom with a curt, “Your turn to wait.”

The cool water on his face did little to clear his mind. By the time he stepped back into the room, fully composed, you were seated on the edge of the bed, slipping your shoes on.

“All set?” he asked, his voice steadier than he felt.

You glanced up at him, your smile soft but teasing. “Ready when you are, Fred Astaire.”

He smirked, grabbing his jacket and gesturing toward the door. “After you.”

As you walked ahead, Hotch allowed himself a brief moment to exhale, the weight of the growing tension settling over him like a second skin. The day had barely begun, and already, he found himself wondering just how long he could keep his thoughts—and his feelings—in check.

The sun filtered through the trees, casting soft, dappled light on the guests as they made their way toward the outdoor ceremony space. Hotch walked beside you, the sound of gravel crunching underfoot filling the brief silence. He couldn’t help but glance at you as you adjusted your dress, the soft fabric shifting gracefully as you moved.

“You look...” Hotch began, his voice quieter than usual. He cleared his throat, glancing ahead at the clusters of chairs. “You look incredible.”

You turned to him, surprised. “Hotch, was that a compliment? Are you feeling okay?”

He smirked, his lips twitching. “I’ve been meaning to tell you all day,” he admitted, his gaze steady now. “Just... took a bit of courage.”

Your playful grin faltered slightly, your eyes softening as they met his. There was a flicker of something in your expression—something unspoken, almost vulnerable. Before you could respond, a voice cut through the moment.

“Oh my God, is that you?”

You barely had time to turn before a woman approached, her enthusiasm unmistakable. She was around your age, with bright eyes and a warm smile that radiated familiarity.

“Wow, it’s been forever! How are you?” the woman gushed, pulling you into a quick hug.

Hotch stepped back slightly, his hands tucked neatly into his pockets as he watched the exchange.

“I’m good,” you replied, your voice friendly but a bit guarded. “Hotch, this is Taylor. We were in the same program in grad school. Taylor, this is Aaron Hotchner.”

Taylor’s eyes lit up as she turned to him, her smile widening. “Oh, Aaron. You must be her boyfriend!”

Hotch blinked, the words catching him off guard. He opened his mouth to respond but paused, glancing at you as you froze slightly, your lips parting as if to correct her. But something stopped you—curiosity, maybe, or hesitation.

Instead, Hotch smiled faintly, extending a hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, his tone calm and composed, deliberately sidestepping the assumption.

Taylor shook his hand enthusiastically. “I’ve heard so much about this wedding. You’re both going to have such a great time! Anyway, I should grab my seat before I lose it. So good to see you again!”

She darted off, leaving the two of you standing there in her wake.

You turned to Hotch, your brow raised. “Boyfriend?” you asked quietly, your voice low enough that only he could hear.

Hotch glanced at you as the crowd began to settle into their seats, his expression calm but with a glint of dry humor in his eyes. “Is ‘boss’ better?”

Your lips quirked into a smirk as you shook your head, letting out a soft laugh. “Touché.”

The ceremony began before either of you could say more, but the weight of the word lingered between you. Hotch tried to focus on the officiant’s words, the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the quiet murmurs of the gathered crowd. But his mind kept drifting back to your reaction—and to the flicker of a thought he didn’t dare voice.

Maybe the assumption wasn’t as far-fetched as it seemed.

Hotch settled into his seat beside you as the ceremony began, the soft murmur of conversation fading into a respectful silence. The bride and groom stood at the altar under an archway adorned with delicate flowers, the golden light of the late afternoon casting everything in a warm, dreamlike glow.

He tried to focus on the ceremony, the gentle cadence of the officiant’s voice blending with the rustle of the trees. But your presence beside him made it difficult.

The chairs were close together, the space between you almost nonexistent. He could feel the warmth of your arm just brushing against his, a subtle contact that sent a current through him more powerful than it should have. You shifted slightly, your knee brushing his, and Hotch held his breath for a moment, willing himself to remain composed.

When the officiant spoke about love—about commitment, vulnerability, and the courage it took to give yourself fully to another person—Hotch found himself watching your profile instead of the couple at the altar.

Your expression was soft; your lips curved into a faint smile as you listened. There was a light in your eyes, one that made his chest tighten unexpectedly. You looked beautiful, yes, but it wasn’t just that. It was the way you seemed so present, so genuine, so effortlessly yourself.

And for a moment, he let himself imagine.

He imagined reaching for your hand, letting his fingers curl around yours in the quiet simplicity of the moment. He imagined what it might be like to sit beside you at a ceremony like this as something more—more than friends, more than colleagues. The thought was fleeting but potent, leaving a weight in his chest he couldn’t quite shake.

When the bride and groom exchanged their vows, their voices filled with emotion, Hotch stole a glance at you. A soft smile played on your lips, and you leaned forward slightly, your focus entirely on the couple.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” you whispered, your voice so quiet he barely caught it.

He nodded, his throat tightening. “It is.”

Your gaze flicked to him briefly, your smile widening just a fraction before you returned your attention to the altar.

The ceremony continued, the romantic atmosphere growing thicker as the couple’s love story unfolded in front of the guests. When the bride’s voice cracked with emotion as she promised to love her partner for the rest of her life, Hotch’s gaze shifted back to you.

You were blinking quickly, your hands folded in your lap, and Hotch recognized the subtle effort to hold back tears. It was a side of you he rarely saw—vulnerable, unguarded—and it stirred something deep within him.

Without thinking, he let his knee press more firmly against yours, a quiet gesture of solidarity. You didn’t pull away. Instead, you tilted your head slightly toward him, your shoulder brushing his for just a moment.

By the time the ceremony ended, with cheers and applause filling the air as the bride and groom shared their first kiss, Hotch found himself acutely aware of every inch of space between you—of how close you were, yet still not close enough.

As you turned to him, your eyes bright with unshed tears and a soft smile lighting up your face, Hotch realized he’d never been less composed in his life.

The cocktail hour unfolded in the garden, a charming space strung with delicate fairy lights and buzzing with soft laughter and the clinking of glasses. Guests mingled near tables laden with hors d’oeuvres, the scent of fresh flowers mingling with the crisp evening air. Hotch stood by your side, his hands resting lightly in his pockets, watching as you stared out at the crowd, your expression thoughtful.

You hadn’t said much since the ceremony ended. It wasn’t like you to be quiet for so long, and he could see the internal battle playing out behind your eyes. Your shoulders were slightly tense, your gaze distant as you watched couples and old friends chatter happily around you.

“Everything okay?” he asked softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You glanced up at him, your lips curving into a faint smile. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

Hotch didn’t press. He knew you well enough to know that if you wanted to share, you would. So, he waited, his presence steady and unintrusive as you worked through whatever was on your mind.

Finally, you let out a soft sigh, leaning slightly against the high-top table between you. “You ever watch something beautiful—like that ceremony—and feel… I don’t know, happy for them, but also kind of… sad?”

He tilted his head, his brows furrowing slightly. “Sad?”

You nodded, your fingers idly tracing the rim of your glass. “Not for them, of course. They were perfect. It’s just…” You hesitated, then let the words spill out, your voice quieter. “It makes you wonder if that kind of thing is in the cards for you, you know? If someone could ever love you like that—unconditionally, fully. If someone would show up for you, every single time.”

Hotch’s chest tightened at your words. He could see the vulnerability in your eyes, the doubt you were trying so hard to mask. For a moment, he was at a loss for what to say—not because he didn’t know the answer, but because the truth came so quickly and easily that it startled him.

He straightened slightly, his voice steady as he replied, “It’ll happen for you. And when it does, the guy will be the luckiest man in the world.”

You froze, your glass halfway to your lips, your eyes snapping to his. The disbelief on your face caught him off guard, and he realized too late how much he’d revealed.

He cleared his throat, quickly adding, “Not that I’d know, of course. Divorced, widowed, single father—not exactly a stellar track record.” He offered a small, self-deprecating smirk. “I’m hardly an expert on what works.”

You blinked at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. The sound was light, genuine, and for a brief moment, Hotch felt a flicker of relief that he’d managed to deflect.

“Wow, Hotchner,” you said, your laughter fading into a warm smile. “Way to lift me up and immediately knock yourself down.”

“Just keeping things balanced,” he replied, his tone dry but his eyes warm.

You shook your head, still smiling, but he could see the wheels turning in your mind. Your expression softened, and for a moment, he wondered if you were going to say something else—something that might push the conversation back into deeper waters.

Before you could, a cheerful voice interrupted.

“Oh my God, there you are!”

Both of you turned to see a small group of your college and grad school friends approaching, their smiles wide and their arms outstretched as they greeted you enthusiastically.

Hotch stepped back slightly, letting you take center stage as they enveloped you in hugs and started chattering all at once. You lit up in their presence, your wit and charm on full display as you bantered back and forth with them effortlessly.

And though he stood quietly on the periphery, Hotch couldn’t help but smile. Watching you like this—vibrant, confident, and so fully yourself—he couldn’t imagine a world where someone wouldn’t see what he saw.

But as he met your gaze briefly across the group, catching the subtle flicker of something lingering in your eyes, he knew the conversation wasn’t over. Not yet.

The introductions at the cocktail party unfolded with an ease that surprised even Hotch. One by one, your old college and grad school friends greeted him, their initial curiosity about the date you brought quickly melting into admiration. He’d never thought of himself as particularly charming—polished and professional, yes, but charming? That was usually Morgan’s department.

But as he exchanged handshakes and polite banter, he could feel their approval growing. They teased you relentlessly about him, their questions playful and occasionally pointed. And you, ever quick-witted, deflected with a grace and humor that kept the mood light, though your blush betrayed you more than once.

“He’s even more put-together than you let on,” one of your friends teased, nudging your arm.

“Don’t let it fool you,” you replied, smirking at Hotch. “He’s secretly a pain.”

Hotch raised a brow, his tone dry but warm. “Only when necessary.”

The group laughed, and you glanced at him, your smile softening in a way that made the noise around him fade for just a moment.

If your friends noticed the subtle looks passing between you and Hotch—the way your eyes lingered on him or how his posture seemed to relax in your presence—they didn’t say anything outright. But their knowing smiles spoke volumes.

By the time the cocktail hour wound down and everyone was ushered toward the reception hall, Hotch felt more comfortable than he had in weeks. He hadn’t expected to enjoy himself, but with you by his side, the evening felt lighter, more vivid.

The reception began with all the hallmarks of a joyous celebration: a lively band, glasses clinking in toasts, and the soft glow of candles casting a romantic haze over the room. Hotch and you were seated at a round table with some of your friends, their easy chatter filling the gaps between the speeches and the plated courses.

At first, the chemistry between you and Hotch was subtle—a shared glance during the bride and groom’s first dance, the way his arm brushed yours as he leaned closer to hear you over the music. But as the evening progressed, it became impossible to ignore.

“Are you going to dance?” you asked, your tone teasing as you sipped your wine.

“Eventually,” he replied, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Are you?”

You tilted your head, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “I don’t know. That depends. Are you going to make me dance alone?”

Hotch leaned slightly closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “I’d never let you dance alone.”

The words hung between you, the air charged with something unspoken yet undeniable. For a moment, neither of you moved, your gazes locked in a way that made the noise of the room fade into the background.

One of your friends called your name, breaking the spell, and you turned with a quick laugh, brushing off the moment as though it hadn’t happened. But Hotch noticed the way your hand lingered on your wine glass, the slight flush creeping up your neck.

As the reception continued, the moments between you grew bolder. A comment from you that lingered just long enough to feel intimate. A brush of his hand against yours as you both reached for something on the table. The way his gaze followed you when you stepped away to talk to someone else, his focus sharper, more intent than he realized.

By the time the band struck up a slower tune, Hotch found himself standing, offering you his hand before he could think twice.

“Care to dance?” he asked, his voice steady but softer than usual.

You blinked up at him, surprised for only a moment before your lips curved into a smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

As you took his hand and allowed him to guide you onto the dance floor, Hotch felt a quiet certainty settle over him. Whatever lines had existed between you—coworkers, friends, allies—were beginning to blur. And for once, he wasn’t in a hurry to redraw them.

Hotch turned to face you, his other hand resting lightly at your waist as you settled your free hand on his shoulder. The contact was light at first, almost cautious, but as the music swelled, he felt you relax, your movements fluid as you let him guide you through the gentle rhythm.

“You weren’t kidding about being a good dancer,” you teased, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “Where’ve you been hiding this talent?”

Hotch smirked faintly, his lips twitching upward. “It’s a rare occasion that calls for it.”

“Well,” you said, your voice soft but tinged with mischief, “consider me impressed.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his focus shifting briefly to the way your hand fit so perfectly in his, the way your eyes lit up even under the dim glow of the candles. Finally, he said, “You should be. I don’t make exceptions for just anyone.”

Your laugh was quiet, a warm ripple that he felt as much as heard. “Is that right? I should feel honored then.”

“You should,” he replied, the faintest hint of a smile still playing at his lips.

The conversation lulled, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The silence felt full, weighted by the unspoken tension that had been simmering all day. You swayed together, your movements perfectly synchronized, and for a moment, Hotch allowed himself to forget everything else—the cases, the team, the boundaries he usually held so firmly in place.

As the music slowed further, you tilted your head, your eyes searching his. “What are you thinking?”

Hotch hesitated, his gaze holding yours for a beat too long. “That you shouldn’t doubt what’s in store for you,” he said quietly. “Not after today.”

Your brows furrowed slightly, confusion flickering across your face. “What do you mean?”

He paused, considering his words carefully. “You deserve what you saw at that ceremony. Someone who shows up, who doesn’t hesitate. And when it happens, it’ll be because they know just how lucky they are.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, he thought you might pull away. Instead, you blinked up at him, your expression unreadable but undeniably softer. “Hotch—”

Before you could finish, the music swelled into its final notes, the moment broken as the song came to an end. Couples around you began to clap politely, the spell of the dance slowly lifting.

You stepped back slightly, your hand lingering in his for just a moment longer than necessary. “Thank you,” you said, your voice quiet but sincere.

Hotch nodded, his throat tight. “Anytime.”

As you turned to head back to the table, Hotch stayed where he was for a moment, watching the way your shoulders seemed a little more relaxed, the way you glanced back at him briefly before rejoining your friends.

He exhaled slowly, his hands falling to his sides. Whatever line you’d both been toeing all evening had grown impossibly blurred, and he wasn’t sure if it was something to step back from—or cross entirely.

The soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses surrounded Hotch as he followed you back toward the table, the energy of the reception lively yet intimate. Before either of you could sit, the bride approached, her radiant smile lighting up the room. Her white gown swayed slightly as she moved, the sparkling embellishments catching the light.

“There you are!” the bride exclaimed, her voice warm and effusive as she wrapped you in a quick hug. “I’ve been looking for you all evening.”

“Hi, Annie,” you said, your tone fond as you pulled back. “You look stunning. Everything about today has been absolutely perfect.”

Annie beamed, her hands clasping yours. “Thank you. But ook at you! And you must be...” She turned to Hotch, her expression curious and eager.

“This is—” you began, but Annie cut you off before you could finish.

“Oh, I knew it!” Annie said, clapping her hands together and glancing between you and Hotch with unrestrained glee. “I always said you’d find someone who looks at you the way he does. You deserve it so much. After everything you’ve been through. Terrible guy after terrible guy. I’m so happy for you.”

Hotch froze for a fraction of a second, her words catching him completely off guard. He glanced at you, noting the way your eyes widened slightly, a faint blush creeping up your neck.

Annie, oblivious to the tension she’d just created, kept going. “I mean, honestly, it’s about time. Look at you two—you’re such a beautiful couple. And the way he watches you? Like you’re the only person in the room? Come on.”

Hotch’s lips parted, his usual composure slipping as he scrambled for a response. Should he correct her? Deflect? Or...

Instead, he did neither.

“You’re right about one thing,” he said, his voice steady but quieter, as if weighing each word carefully. “She deserves everything. More than anyone I know.”

His gaze lingered on you as he spoke, watching the way your expression softened into something he couldn’t quite name. For a moment, Annie’s chatter faded into the background, the room seeming to grow smaller around the three of you.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Annie’s delighted laughter filled the silence first. “See? I knew it,” she said, her tone triumphant. “I knew you’d get that fairytale ending you always talked about wanting.” 

Hotch smiled faintly, his hands slipping into his pockets as Annie hugged you again. “Thank you for coming,” she said, her voice still warm as she pulled away. “It means so much to have you both here.”

You nodded, your voice unusually soft. “Of course, Annie. We wouldn’t have missed it.”

Annie turned back to the dance floor, leaving the two of you standing there, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You glanced at him, your brows knitting together slightly as if you wanted to ask something but weren’t sure where to start. He’s sure from the array of comments he’s thrown at you tonight or the charged energy building between you, you must have a few.

Hotch offered a small smile, his voice low. “She’s a good friend.”

“She’s... enthusiastic,” you said, a weak laugh escaping you.

“Enthusiastic,” he repeated, amusement flickering briefly across his face. “And observant, apparently.”

Your blush deepened, but before the conversation could go any further, another group of your friends waved you over from the bar, calling your name.

“I guess we’re popular tonight,” you said, your tone lighter as you gestured for him to follow.

Hotch nodded, trailing behind you, but his thoughts lingered on Annie’s words. He wasn’t sure what had prompted him to agree with her so openly, but as he watched you laugh with your friends, something told him he wasn’t wrong.

You deserved everything. And perhaps, just perhaps, it wasn’t impossible to imagine being the one to give it to you. He was just glad he could try, even if it was just for tonight.

The energy in the room shifted as the bride announced the bouquet toss, her cheerful voice drawing a crowd of eager participants to the dance floor. Laughter and playful shouts filled the space as single women jostled for prime positions, their eyes gleaming with competitive determination.

You, however, stayed firmly rooted at the edge of the room, leaning casually against a table with your arms crossed. Hotch stood beside you, holding the glass he was nursing on the table.

“Not interested?” he asked, glancing at you, a teasing flint in his eyes.

“Not a chance,” you replied, your tone wry. “I’m perfectly fine over here, out of the line of fire.”

Hotch chuckled softly. “Strategic decision. I can respect that.”

You grinned, turning your attention back to the bride, who was hyping up the crowd with exaggerated gestures. The band struck up a playful tune, and the anticipation in the room reached its peak as Annie turned her back to the group, bouquet in hand.

The toss was dramatic, the bouquet soaring high into the air in a perfect arc. The crowd erupted into shouts and cheers as hands shot up, grasping for the bundle of flowers.

But no one caught it.

Instead, the bouquet ricocheted off a hand, sailed over the group entirely, and arced straight toward you.

You barely had time to react before it bonked you squarely on the head.

Hotch blinked, momentarily stunned as the bouquet bounced off you and landed unceremoniously on the table beside you. There was a beat of silence before laughter erupted around the room, the crowd clearly amused by the unexpected trajectory.

You stared at the bouquet, your mouth slightly agape, before looking up at him, your expression caught somewhere between mortification and disbelief.

“Seriously?” you said, your voice rising just enough to carry over the laughter. “I wasn’t even participating!”

Hotch’s lips twitched, his amusement barely contained as he raised an eyebrow. “Looks like fate had other plans.”

“Fate needs to work on its aim,” you muttered, grabbing the bouquet and holding it up like evidence in a court case.

Hotch allowed himself a full laugh, the sound rare but genuine. “Or maybe it’s trying to tell you something,” he teased, his voice lower as he leaned slightly closer. “Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

Your eyes narrowed at him, though the corners of your mouth betrayed the start of a grin. “Are you enjoying this?”

“Immensely,” he said, his tone deadpan but his eyes gleaming with humor.

You shook your head, muttering something about cosmic irony as you placed the bouquet back on the table. But Hotch could see the faint blush creeping up your neck, and the way your lips curved into a reluctant smile despite your feigned indignation.

As the laughter in the room began to settle and the bride called for the next event, Hotch leaned slightly closer to you, his voice quieter now.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, his tone softer but no less teasing, “I think the roses suit you.” He pulled a few petals from your hair.

You shot him a look, but your smile widened, and for a brief moment, the space between you felt smaller than ever. “I’m more of a sunflower girl,” You played along. 

The band’s leader tapped the microphone, his cheerful voice cutting through the chatter of the reception. “All right, folks, this one’s for the happy couples out there! Join us on the dance floor for one last dance before we call it a night.”

Around the room, couples began to rise, hands intertwined as they made their way to the dance floor. The lights dimmed slightly, casting the space in a warm, golden glow. Hotch stayed in his seat, his gaze drifting to you as you sipped the last of your wine, clearly intent on remaining at the table.

He set his glass down with deliberate precision and stood, extending his hand toward you.

“Come on,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

You looked up at him, your brow furrowing. “What are you doing?”

“We’re dancing,” he replied simply, his tone leaving little room for argument.

Your lips parted in surprise. “Hotch, that’s for couples—”

“According to your friends,” he interrupted, his lips quirking into the faintest smirk, “we’re a couple tonight. Might as well play the part.”

For a moment, you stared at him, clearly torn between amusement and incredulity. But then you sighed, setting your glass down and placing your hand in his. “Fine,” you said, standing with exaggerated reluctance. “But if this ends up being another metaphor, I’m blaming you.”

Hotch chuckled softly, leading you to the dance floor. The band struck up a slow, tender melody, the kind that wrapped itself around you and seemed to quiet the world.

He turned to face you, his hand resting lightly on your waist as you settled your free hand on his shoulder. The contact was familiar now, but this time, the air between you felt heavier—charged. You moved together effortlessly, swaying in time with the music, your steps perfectly in sync.

“See?” he said quietly, his voice just loud enough for you to hear. “Not so bad.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, your fingers tightening slightly on his shoulder. “You really are impossible, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” he replied, his tone dry but his expression softer than usual.

The conversation lulled, and for a moment, there was nothing but the music and the quiet sound of your breaths mingling in the space between you.

Hotch’s eyes dropped to your face, taking in the way your lashes cast delicate shadows on your cheeks, the faint flush that lingered from the evening’s laughter and wine. You looked up at him then, your gaze meeting his, and the intensity of the moment hit him like a wave.

“You’re staring,” you said softly, your voice tinged with nervous amusement.

He didn’t look away. “Maybe I am.”

Your breath hitched, and Hotch felt your hand shift slightly on his shoulder as though you were steadying yourself. The tension between you was palpable now, a tangible thing that neither of you seemed willing—or able—to break.

“You’re full of surprises tonight,” you said, your tone quieter now, almost tentative.

Hotch’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “So are you.”

The song began to wind down, the final notes stretching into a soft, lingering cadence. The room seemed to grow smaller, quieter, as though it held only the two of you.

As the music ended, Hotch realized he hadn’t let go of your waist, and you hadn’t stepped back. For a brief, breathless moment, you both stayed where you were, the silence between you heavy with possibilities.

And though neither of you said it aloud, the line between what you were and what you could be had never felt thinner.

The walk back to the hotel room was quiet, the air between you and Hotch humming with the kind of unspoken tension that had lingered all night. The elevator ride was no better; you stood beside him, close enough that your arm brushed his, and though neither of you spoke, the weight of the evening seemed to settle in the confined space.

By the time the door to the room clicked shut behind you, the silence was thick. You slipped off your shoes with a sigh, placing them neatly by the door as you turned to him with a tired but genuine smile.

“Well,” you said, your voice soft, “that was... something.”

Hotch nodded, setting his jacket neatly over the back of a chair. “It was.”

You glanced at him, your smile tilting into something teasing. “That’s all you’ve got? Just ‘it was’?”

He smirked faintly, loosening his tie. “I think the bouquet toss and the dance floor antics speak for themselves.”

You laughed, the sound warm and familiar, and Hotch felt his shoulders relax slightly despite the tension coursing through him. He watched as you moved to your bag, pulling out a pair of comfortable clothes before disappearing into the bathroom.

The sound of running water filled the room, and Hotch took the opportunity to change into a plain T-shirt and sweats, folding his dress shirt with precise care. When you returned, your makeup washed off, and your hair pulled back, you looked softer somehow—more yourself than you had all night, and it hit him with a quiet force he wasn’t prepared for. Sure, he’d seen you in casual clothes before, but something about the soft cotton clothes, the clean face, and the messy pulled-back hair…it was a sight that warmed him somehow. 

“You’re up,” you said, gesturing toward the bathroom.

Hotch nodded, slipping past you and closing the door behind him. The cool water against his face did little to calm his thoughts, and when he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he found his usual composure slightly fractured.

By the time he returned to the room, you were already under the covers, your head resting against the pillow as you scrolled absentmindedly through your phone. He hesitated for a moment, the sight of you there—so comfortable, so familiar—stirring something deep in his chest.

“Are you going to stand there all night?” you asked, glancing up at him with a raised eyebrow.

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he moved to the other side of the bed. Sliding in beside you, he was acutely aware of the space—or lack thereof—between you. When was the last time he shared a bed with someone?

The room fell into a soft silence, the dim light from the bedside lamp casting long shadows against the walls. You set your phone down, turning onto your side to face him, your expression unreadable but open.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said quietly. “For coming with me. For... everything.”

He met your gaze, his voice steady but softer than usual. “You don’t have to thank me. I wanted to be there.”

Your lips quirked into a faint smile, your eyes searching his as though you were trying to decipher something you weren’t quite ready to name.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the silence stretching but never feeling uncomfortable. Hotch could feel the warmth of your presence, the subtle weight of your gaze, and it was enough to make his throat tighten.

“You’re staring again,” you said, your tone light but tinged with something quieter, something unsure.

“Maybe I am,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath caught, and Hotch felt the space between you shrink—not physically, but emotionally, the air thick with everything unspoken.

“Why do you do that?” you asked after a moment, your voice quieter now.

“Do what?”

“Look at me like that.”

Hotch hesitated, his throat tightening as he searched for the right words. “Like what?”

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Like you’re trying to figure me out. Like you already know something I don’t.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, his voice soft but steady. “Maybe I do.”

You blinked, your breath catching just slightly, and Hotch felt the air between you grow impossibly still.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the silence crackling with tension that neither seemed willing to break. Then, as if pulling yourself out of the moment, you let out a small laugh, your tone turning lighter.

“You’re an enigma, Aaron Hotchner,” you said, your smile faint but genuine as you turned onto your back, breaking the spell.

He exhaled slowly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he reached over to turn off the lamp. “Goodnight,” he said, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful.

“Goodnight,” you replied softly, your words carrying a warmth that settled over the room like a blanket.

As the darkness enveloped them, Hotch lay still, the steady sound of your breathing filling the silence. The unspoken connection between you—the moments that had lingered and stretched throughout the evening—felt as tangible as the bed they shared.

And though he knew crossing the line between friendship and something more was fraught with uncertainty, Hotch couldn’t shake the quiet realization that maybe—just maybe—you were worth the risk.

Hotch stirred awake in the dark, the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the curtains casting soft shadows across the room. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what had woken him—a sound, a shift—but then he became aware of the warmth pressed against him, the steady rise and fall of your breathing.

Somehow, in the night, the two of you had gravitated toward each other. His arm was draped over your waist, his hand resting lightly on your hip, and your head was nestled against his chest. Your hand, delicate and warm, had found its way to his side, clutching the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself to him.

He froze, his breath hitching as he registered the intimacy of the moment. Every instinct told him to pull away, to put space between you before you woke up, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to.

The soft scent of your hair drifted up to him, and without thinking, his thumb began to trace small, absent circles against your side. The simple act sent a rush of warmth through him, a tenderness he couldn’t quite contain.

You stirred slightly, your body shifting just enough for him to realize you were waking up. His breath caught again, his heart thudding heavily in his chest as he waited—half expecting you to pull away or panic.

But you didn’t. Instead, you tilted your head up, your eyes blinking sleepily in the dim light as they met his.

Neither of you spoke. The silence between you was thick, electric, the air charged with a tension that felt almost unbearable.

Hotch’s hand stilled on your side, his palm now resting against the curve of your hip. He watched you closely, his eyes searching yours for any sign that he should pull back. But you didn’t move away. If anything, you seemed to lean into him, your gaze softening as you stared at him in the quiet.

His chest tightened as he felt the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you. The feelings he’d been trying to push aside for months—years, maybe—were suddenly impossible to ignore.

And then, you moved.

Your hand slid upward, hesitating briefly before coming to rest against his chest. Slowly, tentatively, you shifted closer, your lips brushing his in a kiss so soft it sent a shiver down his spine.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the kiss tender and delicate, as though you were both testing the boundaries of something fragile and new. But then he felt your hand tighten against his chest, and his restraint broke.

Hotch deepened the kiss, his free hand sliding up your back to cradle the base of your neck, his fingers threading gently through your hair. Your lips parted for him, and the kiss grew more heated, more insistent, as though all the tension that had built between you over the years was finally finding its release.

You shifted closer still, your body pressing against his, and Hotch couldn’t help the quiet sound that escaped him. He felt your hand slide up to his jaw, your fingers brushing against the stubble there as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss even further.

It was slow but consuming, a meeting of everything unspoken and everything undeniable. He couldn’t tell where he ended, and you began, the lines between friendship and something more completely and utterly erased.

When you finally pulled back, your breaths mingling in the dark, your forehead rested against his as you looked up at him with wide, searching eyes.

“Aaron,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady, filled with something he couldn’t quite name.

He swallowed hard, his fingers still tangled in your hair, as he let out a shaky breath. “Say my name like that again,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles.

You laughed softly, your hand brushing against his cheek as you leaned in again, this time with more certainty.

And as your lips met his once more, Hotch felt the last of his walls crumble, leaving only the quiet, undeniable truth: he didn’t want to hold back anymore. Not with you. Not ever.

Hotch’s pulse quickened as your lips met his again, this time with a heat that left no room for hesitation. The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate but charged with the kind of intensity that came from years of unspoken longing. Your hand slid from his jaw to his chest, your fingers splaying against the fabric of his shirt as if grounding yourself in the moment.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. The world outside this room ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you tangled together in the dim light of the night.

When your leg shifted, brushing against his, a low sound escaped his throat—a soft, guttural hum that he hadn’t meant to let slip. You froze for the briefest moment, your eyes flicking up to his, and the sight of you—so close, so vulnerable, so his in that instant—was almost too much.

“Is this okay?” you whispered, your voice breathless and tinged with something fragile, like you were teetering on the edge of disbelief.

Hotch cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he nodded. “It’s more than okay,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

You smiled softly, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward, pressing another kiss to your lips. This one was slower but no less fervent, his hand sliding from your face to rest against the curve of your waist, pulling you closer.

Your body shifted against his, your hands wandering—tentative at first, but quickly growing bolder. One hand curled around the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in the short hairs there, while the other slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, your palm pressing against the warm skin of his chest.

Hotch’s breath hitched, his own hands growing less restrained as they skimmed your back, tracing the line of your spine. The soft, sleepy rhythm of your breathing was broken by quiet, barely audible gasps as his hands found the curve of your hips, pulling you flush against him.

“Aaron,” you murmured against his lips, the sound of his name sending a shiver down his spine.

His lips left yours, trailing a path along your jawline to the soft curve of your neck. He felt the way your body arched into his touch, the subtle press of your hips against his igniting something deeper, something he could no longer hold back.

“You have no idea,” he whispered against your skin, his voice low and uneven, “how long I’ve wanted this.”

Your fingers tightened against him, and when he pulled back to look at you, your eyes were glassy, your lips slightly parted. “Me too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His restraint was unraveling with every second, every touch, every soft sound that escaped your lips. But he forced himself to pause, his forehead resting against yours as he took a steadying breath.

“Tell me to stop,” he said softly, his hands stilling against your waist even as every fiber of his being begged him to keep going. “If you need me to, I will.”

You shook your head slightly, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you leaned up to kiss him again, slow but filled with unmistakable intent. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, the words a quiet promise.

Hotch exhaled shakily, his lips capturing yours again as he shifted, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him. The weight of you pressed against him, the warmth of your skin beneath his hands—it was everything he hadn’t let himself dream of, and now that it was happening, he couldn’t imagine ever letting it go.

The kisses grew more urgent, more consuming, the sleepy haze between you dissolving into something sharper, hungrier. His hands roamed your body with a reverence that bordered on worship, memorizing every curve, every tremble, every quiet sigh that spilled from your lips.

Hotch’s breath hitched as you shifted over him, your hands braced on his chest for balance. The delicate weight of you, your thighs straddling his hips, was intoxicating in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Pressing your center against him, a breathy groan left his lips. His hands found their way to your waist, his fingers splaying across the soft fabric of your shirt as though memorizing every detail of this moment.

Your hair fell slightly into your face, and you looked down at him with a mixture of nervousness and desire that sent his pulse hammering in his chest. He met your gaze, his eyes dark and searching, trying to convey everything he felt but couldn’t say aloud.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low, the words a quiet plea for confirmation. He knew after this there was no going back. 

You nodded, your smile soft but steady as you leaned forward, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that was equal parts tender and heated. “I’ve never been more sure,” you whispered against his mouth.

The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate at first, but quickly growing more fervent. Your hands moved to his shoulders, gripping him as though anchoring yourself to him, while his hands slid upward, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it to the side.

For a moment, he simply looked at you, his gaze tracing the lines of your body, the soft glow of the moonlight making your skin seem almost ethereal. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

You flushed under his gaze, but instead of shying away, you leaned down, kissing him again with a new intensity. Your hands found the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward until he helped you remove it entirely. The cool air brushed against his skin, but all he could focus on was the warmth of you, the way your touch left a trail of fire in its wake.

As the last remnants of clothing were shed, the barrier between you dissolved entirely. You settled back over him, your bare skin pressing against his, and he let out a low, shaky exhale as his hands gripped your hips, steadying you.

“God, you have no idea what you do to me,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion as he looked up at you.

You smiled softly, your hands resting on his chest as you leaned down to kiss him again, slow and deliberate, as though savoring every moment. “I think I’m starting to figure it out,” you murmured against his lips, your voice filled with a quiet confidence that made his chest tighten.

Hotch’s hands guided your movements, his touch firm but reverent, as though you were something precious—something he didn’t want to break. The connection between you was electric, every touch, every kiss deepening the bond that had been building for years.

As your bodies moved together, the world around you faded completely, leaving only the quiet hum of your shared breaths and the unspoken promise that whatever had changed between you tonight was something neither of you could—or would—ever take back.

As you rocked against him, his breath hitched, and he couldn’t stop the quiet groan that escaped him. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his hands cupping your face as he pulled you down into a kiss that was as tender as it was consuming.

When you pulled back, your gaze locked with his, your expression soft but filled with intensity. “I never knew it could feel like this,” you admitted, your voice quiet but raw with emotion.

He swallowed hard, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he whispered, “Neither did I.”

The words hung between you for a moment, the weight of them adding a new depth to the passion that had overtaken you. And as you moved together, Hotch felt a sense of completeness that he hadn’t known he was missing—something he realized, in this moment, he could never let go of.

Hotch’s breath came in uneven gasps, his body attuned to every shift of yours, every quiet sound that spilled from your lips. His hands gripped your hips, his fingers pressing into your skin just enough to guide you, to hold you steady as you moved together.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured again, his voice thick and low. His eyes traced the line of your jaw, the way your lips parted as you moved, your body responding to his in a way that made his pulse race.

Your hand slid up his chest, your fingers curling lightly around the base of his neck as you leaned closer. “I don’t think you realize,” you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion, “what you’re doing to me.”

His lips curved into a faint, breathless smirk as he leaned up, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was deep and consuming. “I think I have an idea,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a husky whisper. “But I wouldn’t mind hearing it.”

You laughed quietly, the sound trailing off into a soft sigh as his hands slid up your back, pulling you closer. “You make it hard to think,” you admitted, your tone teasing but edged with something deeper, more vulnerable.

“Good,” he replied, his hands shifting to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. “Because right now, all I can think about is you.”

Your eyes met his, and the intensity of your gaze made his chest tighten. “I want this,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “I want you.”

Hotch exhaled shakily, his forehead resting against yours as he slowed your movements, savoring the connection between you. “You have me,” he said quietly, his voice steady but filled with quiet intensity. “You’ve always had me.”

Your lips parted as if to respond, but instead, you kissed him again, your fingers threading through his hair as you pressed closer, deeper, until there was no space left between you.

The rhythm between you was slow but deliberate, each movement, each touch, carrying a weight that neither of you could ignore. It wasn’t just passion—it was everything you hadn’t said, every unspoken feeling finally given form.

When you pulled back slightly, your breath brushing against his lips, Hotch found himself gripping your hips just a little tighter, grounding himself in the reality of you above him. Your skin glowed in the faint moonlight, and the look in your eyes—dark, heavy with desire—took what little restraint he had left and shattered it.

“Aaron Hotchner,” you whispered, your voice breathless, a mix of teasing and reverence. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

He let out a low, quiet laugh, his hands sliding up your back, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate lines. “I could say the same about you,” he murmured, his voice rough as his lips brushed the curve of your jaw.

You shivered under his touch, your lips curling into a small, wicked smile. “Are you saying I’m full of surprises?” you asked, your tone playful, your hips rolling against his in a way that made his breath catch.

Hotch let out a soft groan, his head tipping back against the pillow as his hands found their way to your thighs. “I’m saying,” he said, his voice low and filled with heat, “that you might just be the death of me.”

You leaned down, your lips hovering just above his, teasing him with the barest of touches. “I guess that makes us even,” you whispered, your words trailing off into a kiss that was anything but tentative.

The kiss deepened, your movements growing slower, more deliberate as your hands roamed over him, pulling him impossibly closer. Hotch’s fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, his other hand tracing the curve of your back in a way that made you arch into him.

“You feel incredible,” he breathed against your lips, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “Like you were made for me.”

As the room filled with nothing but the quiet sound of your breaths and the faint rustle of sheets, Hotch couldn’t help but marvel at how natural this felt—how right it was to have you like this, in his arms, every unspoken word replaced by the undeniable connection between you.

And as the tension between you reached its peak, he realized with startling clarity that this wasn’t just a fleeting moment—this was something neither of you could ever undo. And he didn’t want to.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Your face was still buried against his neck, and he could feel the rapid thrum of your heartbeat gradually slowing against his chest. Hotch tilted his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there as he tried to find the right words for what he was feeling.

It wasn’t fleeting. It wasn’t casual. It was something far deeper, something he hadn’t allowed himself to believe he could feel again.

You stirred slightly, shifting so you could meet his gaze, your hair falling messily around your face. Your eyes searched his, and the vulnerability there—soft and unguarded—made his throat tighten.

“Well,” you murmured, your voice quiet but tinged with a nervous laugh, “that just happened.”

Hotch’s lips twitched into a faint smile, his thumb brushing lazily against your back. “It did,” he replied softly, his voice steady despite the emotions threatening to bubble to the surface.

You blinked down at him, your brow furrowing slightly. “Are you okay?” you asked, your voice carrying a hesitance that tugged at his heart.

He shifted beneath you, his hands settling on your hips as he met your gaze. “I’m more than okay,” he said, his tone quiet but firm. “Are you?”

Your lips parted slightly, your gaze flickering between his eyes as though trying to read him. Slowly, a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Yeah,” you said softly, nodding. “I think I am.”

The tension in his chest eased slightly, but his thumb continued its soothing motion against your hip. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I don’t—” He paused, exhaling quietly. “I don’t want this to be something you regret.”

“Regret?” you echoed, your smile widening faintly. “Hotch, do I look like someone who regrets this?”

He let out a quiet huff of laughter, his fingers tightening slightly against your skin. “No,” he admitted, his voice lighter now. “But I had to make sure.”

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his in a kiss so soft it made his chest tighten all over again. “You’re impossible,” you whispered against his mouth, your tone teasing but filled with affection.

“And yet, here we are,” he replied, his lips curving into a smirk as he kissed you again.

You laughed softly, resting your forehead against his as your hands slid to his shoulders, your touch light and lingering. “Here we are,” you repeated, your voice quieter now, almost reflective.

Hotch let the silence stretch for a moment, his hands tracing gentle patterns along your sides as he memorized the feel of you against him. Whatever this was—whatever it had turned into—he wasn’t going to let it slip away.

“You should probably get some sleep,” he murmured, his voice tinged with humor as he glanced toward the faint glow of the bedside clock.

“Sleep?” you teased, raising an eyebrow as you shifted slightly, your lips brushing against his jaw. “After all that? I’m not sure that’s possible.”

Hotch chuckled softly, his hands sliding up to cradle your face. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You grinned, leaning into his touch as your eyes softened. “Good. You should.”

As the quiet settled over the room once more, Hotch let his eyes drift closed, your body still pressed against his, your warmth anchoring him in a way he hadn’t felt in years. For the first time in what felt like forever, the world outside could wait. All that mattered was here and now, with you.

Hotch wasn’t sure how much time had passed, the quiet rhythm of your breathing against his chest blurring the line between minutes and hours. His hand rested against your back, his fingers tracing slow, idle patterns along your skin, grounding himself in the reality of your presence.

“You’re quiet,” you murmured after a while, your voice soft and drowsy, the words more of a thought spoken aloud than a question.

He glanced down at you, your head still resting on his chest, your hand lazily draped over his ribs. “I’m just... thinking,” he admitted, his voice low, the weight of the night settling over him in a way that felt both overwhelming and comforting.

You tilted your head up to look at him, your expression sleepy but curious. “About what?”

His fingers paused for a moment, resting lightly against your side. “About how different this feels,” he said honestly, his eyes meeting yours. “How right it feels.”

Your lips parted slightly, your expression softening into something vulnerable, open. “It does,” you agreed quietly, your hand sliding up to rest against his chest. “It scares me a little.”

Hotch’s chest tightened at your words, but he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It scares me too,” he admitted, his voice steady but filled with quiet emotion. “But not enough to make me stop.”

You smiled faintly, your fingers tracing small circles against his skin. “What does this mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “For us?”

Hotch exhaled, his hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “It means I don’t want to go back to what we had before,” he said softly. “Not after this.”

You blinked up at him, the weight of his words settling between you. “Me neither,” you said after a moment, your voice carrying a quiet strength.

The room fell into a comfortable silence, the unspoken understanding between you growing stronger with each passing second. Hotch shifted slightly, pulling you closer against him, his arm wrapping around your waist as if to keep you there, to keep this moment from slipping away.

Your fingers curled against his chest, and you tilted your head up, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that was softer now, slower, as though sealing the unspoken promise you’d just made.

When you pulled back, your eyes searched his, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “I guess we’ll figure it out,” you said softly, the words carrying a quiet certainty that made his chest tighten.

“We will,” he replied, his voice low but firm.

Hotch lay awake long after you’d drifted off, your body warm and relaxed against his. The weight of what had happened between you lingered in the air, a heady mix of tenderness and an undeniable shift in the foundation of your relationship.

He let his fingers trace idle patterns along your back, his touch feather-light as he memorized the curve of your spine, the subtle rise and fall of your breathing. For years, he’d been disciplined in keeping the boundaries of your friendship intact, maintaining the line that separated what was and what could never be. But tonight, that line had dissolved completely, leaving in its wake something deeper, something that felt achingly right.

You stirred slightly, letting out a soft sigh as you nestled closer to him, your hand sliding across his chest as though instinctively seeking him even in sleep. His chest tightened, a quiet warmth spreading through him as he pressed a soft kiss to your hair.

He’d spent so much of his life thinking he wasn’t allowed to have this—not after everything he’d been through, not after the sacrifices he’d made. But with you, it didn’t feel like he was taking something he wasn’t entitled to. It felt like finding something he hadn’t realized he’d been searching for all along.

Tomorrow would bring its own questions, its own complications. The team would notice the shift between you, and the world wouldn’t wait for you both to navigate whatever this had become. But for now, in the quiet sanctuary of the room, with you tucked safely against him, Hotch allowed himself to just be.

And as the first light of dawn began to creep through the curtains, he held you a little closer, silently vowing that whatever came next, he would be ready. Because for the first time in a long time, he felt whole. And he wasn’t about to let that go

Hotch’s gaze lingered on your sleeping face, soft and unguarded in the early light. A quiet determination settled in his chest, stronger than anything he’d felt in years. You deserved to know—without question or hesitation—that you were worth everything. Worth the quiet moments and the stormy ones, the laughter and the tears, the time and the effort. Any man too blind or foolish to see that had only done him a favor, because now, you were here with him. And he would never take that for granted. He would make sure, every single day, that you never doubted your worth again. Because with you, Hotch finally understood what it meant to have something—and someone—he could never let go. And he wouldn’t let you forget it.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

[filthyf1]

A Long Short Time

pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

content warning: MINORS DNI (18+); Porn WITH Plot, cunnilingus, blowjob, unprotected sex, slightly tipsy sex?... Not entirely healthy relationship dynamics….

summary: Daniel and you broke up two months ago. He comes back to get the last of his things…. And the rest is history.

word count: 5k

author's notes: AHHHHHH this was so nerve wracking.... it's been so long since I've written anything so please let me know your thoughts!!!

____

Two months. A short time that felt like a millenia to you. The apartment felt emptier than usual. He wasn’t there often before, but it was more than never. Life felt slow and tedious, and you weren’t exactly adapting well. 

It had been two months since you and Daniel broke up. That felt like such a silly and simple way to explain it, but that’s exactly what happened. It was and then it wasn’t. Four years and it was over just like that. 

Daniel was let go from VCARB after the Singapore GP. The fans could tell something was wrong from his interviews, and their guesses were spot on. He’d known it was the end and given it his all, understanding that it wouldn’t be enough. His whole life came to an abrupt halt, just like that. What was the point of contracts in the first place? It felt like a crime to let him go before COTA, and yet… 

Just as his career came to a screeching halt, your relationship did as well. The comfort you thought you could give was simply not enough. Nothing you could say or do could make it right. It made sense even if it hurt. What do you do when the thing you’ve worked for your whole life gets pulled out from under you? Some people cope and move on, collect the pieces and figure out how to go forward. Some people burn the rest of the world around them and crash. 

What began as trying to comfort him turned into an all-out shouting match and ended in the door slamming behind him. 

“I can’t do this! What the fuck would you do?”

“I don’t know! Lean on my friends? Family? My fucking girlfriend, maybe?”

“Well, nothing like this has happened to you. You just get to sit around and be pretty. Life is so fucking easy for you.”

That last one stung - his sharp words certainly hit their mark. You played the conversation over and over again in your head for the past 60 days, trying to think of an alternative ending.

The movers eventually came and took his things, leaving both the space and your heart wide and empty. And that was how the past two months went. Your apartment was small, but when a whole other person’s things were removed, it felt much too large.You got to see him unwind and find himself by his own posts and his friends’ on social media. The news outlets were fucking annoying. Apparently, one of the most interesting things to report on was an F1 driver’s relationship status. And the paparazzi had exactly as much sympathy as you expected. You were sure there were at least a dozen photos of you crying floating around on Twitter, Facebook, etc. 

It was your turn to feel stuck. You felt like the last four years were a waste. What were you working towards? It was upended so swiftly and easily. You saw Daniel regaining the light back in his eyes while he attended sporting events and went dirt biking with his friends. You sat in your flat drinking wine and looking at the city lights contemplating what could have been. 

There were things you wanted to accomplish that you put on the back burner and now regretted never pursuing. Maybe once you got your spirit back, you’d go after the fashion degree or write that book that always sat in the back of your mind. Just a little bit more groveling…

What really hurt was finding things the movers missed. Little things here and there that you knew he would miss, a helmet here, a jersey there. So instead of burning them like a lot of people might, you gathered them and put them in a box. You put your big girl pants on and sent him a text, hoping it would still go through, and let him know he could pick it up whenever he was back in the city. And to your surprise, not only did the message go through, but he answered. It was the only thing you’d heard from him since he left and unfortunately, you clung to it. 

It was another Friday night that wine was your companion. Your friend had visited for a few days for some gossip and retail therapy, but unfortunately she had left earlier that day and you let the loneliness seep back in. The riesling helped dull it a little bit. You were halfway through the bottle, feeling the pleasant buzz settle into your muscles. 

Music swept through your apartment while you danced and cleaned things here and there when your phone dinged on the counter, interrupting the melody you were currently feeling. Thinking it was your friend who forgot her lipstick on your counter, you swiped the message open without a second thought. Once you read it, however, the blood drained from your face and you looked on in horror.

Be there in 20 if you’re still awake.

Okay…. Okay. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You were very much not sober enough for this. The bottle of wine looked on in amusement and you glared at it, as if it wasn’t your choice to partake in the first place. That still didn’t stop you from chugging the rest of the glass in front of you. Maybe it would help you to be more relaxed or cool in his presence. You glanced at the clock on your oven.

11:20PM.

Late, but not ridiculously so. You wondered what exactly he was doing in the country. But that wasn’t really any of your business anymore. 

It was fully in your right to deny him, let him know it was not a good time to stop by. Your sober self needed 3 to 5 business days to prepare for this, but your tipsy self wanted him to stop by now. Your chest ached at the thought of seeing his face again in person. You craved it desperately. Against your better judgement, your fingers sent out a quick, “Ok.”

Oh, God, what were you doing? 

Simply put, you fucking missed him. There was no denying or getting around it.

“Fuck, this is happening,” you breathed to yourself. You ran a hand through your hair, a nervous mess. You ran to the bathroom to do a once over; you looked as much a mess as you expected. Hair everywhere and eyes slightly glassy from alcohol. You swallowed hard, trying to fix things, but gave up after a minute or two.

Sitting back in your kitchen, you nursed another glass of wine. There was no going back now, so you might as well commit. A knock came a few minutes later, causing you to jump in your seat. 

“Fuck,” one more for the road. 

You approached the door slowly like a victim in a horror movie. One last hesitation, and the door swung open and there he was.

He stood tall, not at all bowed under the pressure he had experienced so recently. His hair was longer than you remembered, the curls so perfect and tangled it hurt. They weren’t yours to run your hands through anymore. You were sure you looked sad and pathetic, and he stood in front of you looking healthy and radiant, something you hadn’t seen in a long time. He looked damn good.

A breathy, “Hi,” was all you could muster. You immediately kicked yourself internally. So much for keeping your cool. Daniel gave you a once over that made you feel hot inside and self-conscience at the same time.

“Hi,” he gave a soft smile and you nearly melted. It was such a stark difference from how your last conversation ended. You stood in silence for another few seconds, taking him in. This was how you wanted to remember him. 

“Fuck, uh, sorry, I don’t have your stuff here,” you shook yourself out of the trance. “Do you… want to come in for a minute?” You weren’t sure if this was a good idea or not. You didn’t have a great track record with exes and them visiting your place of residence. 

“I’ve got the time,” he said. 

You’d be lying if a plethora of less than innocent thoughts were running through your head. He looked better than you remembered, and the feelings were still there, ready to be unearthed at a moment's notice.

He took everything in. The air felt heavy with unspoken tension and you wondered what he was thinking. His eyes settled on the empty wine glass and less than full bottle.

“Been drinking?” He asked and a smirk settled onto his lips. His facial hair was growing in, and you’d be lying if your mind didn’t wander. Beard burn was a hell of a drug.

“Yea,” you said sheepishly, a hand running through your hair to dispel your nerves. “There’s whiskey if you want a drink. I still have your favorite… I don’t really drink it…” You trailed off, not really expecting him to accept. You thought he would be itching to leave as soon as possible, the weight of the last conversation heavy on your mind. To your surprise, he opened the cabinet that he knew very well and grabbed the whiskey. He grabbed a glass (the cabinet never changed either) and poured himself a double. 

“Cheers,” he held the cup out. You poured the rest of the wine into your stemmed glass and clinked your glass against his. You paused, watching him down the glass, his Adam's apple bobbing and a single droplet of whiskey dripping from his lips and trailing down his neck. Sinful thoughts flashed across your eyes, but long gone now were the days where you could lick it away. You averted your eyes quickly and drank your wine in one swift gulp. Anything to distract you from the images circling through your head. 

“You’ve been doing well - at least from what I’ve seen,” you placed the wine glass down in the kitchen sink and Daniel followed suit. The heat of his body was heavy behind you, his arm right next to yours. You fought everything in you to fight freezing. Surely, he wasn’t doing this on purpose? You didn’t have much time to contemplate as his body was gone in the next moment. 

He leaned against the kitchen counter - his arms propped his body up and you chose to avert your eyes from his toned form. Two months was clearly not enough time to stop those thoughts from clouding your mind. Was it you or did he just look you up and down?

“I’ve been��� okay,” he didn’t elaborate, but the silence explained enough. Maybe it was easier to put on a smile for the camera.

“You still miss it,” it wasn’t a question.

“Every day,” he nearly whispered. His warm brown eyes held yours for a second too long and you wondered if you were still talking about racing. You cleared your throat, not totally sure how to address that. 

“Things ended pretty poorly, huh,” you averted your eyes. Now was not the time to let your tears get the best of you. Your last argument was the elephant in the room and you’d explode if you avoided it for another second. There was a tightly wound bundle of resentment, pain, and anger in your stomach. You were mad at him for walking away. Mad that he seemed to get over things pretty damn quick while you were still fumbling for a grasp on things. Mad that he walked right back in like nothing happened.

“You could say that again,” he said simply. You went to speak again but he cut you off. “I’m sorry for the things I said.”

Your eyes shot to his. He wasn’t really one to open up and talk about things like that. He tended to take things out on the track and work through them that way. He didn’t have that anymore though, so maybe he found talking was easier these days. 

“Thank you,” you said roughly. Blinking rapidly to stop tears from coming forward. What were you supposed to do now? You never stopped loving him, but you were feeling so many other conflicting feelings at the same time. Daniel made a move as if to come forward and comfort you, then thought twice about it. He was obviously feeling a lot of things too. He cleared his throat.

“So, you said you put everything in a box?” He looked around. If things were heavy before, they weighed a ton now. 

“Um, yes, your stuff is in the hall closet. I put it in a box for you - I’m not sure it'll fit in whatever car you drove, but you can always send someone to pick it up for you,” you over-explained as you walked towards said storage. Were you delirious or was that his body heat on your back? This time it did not disappear. 

You slowed, turning to face him. He was as close as you suspected, his strong frame standing over you. His pupils were blown, his breathing slightly accelerated. You’d be a fool to deny that his scent was intoxicating. The same cologne and musk you remembered that was distinctly Daniel made your head spin. You swallowed hard and Daniel’s eyes flickered down to your eyes then your throat.

“Daniel?”

“I’ve missed you,” he breathed out, his voice deep and husky. Your heart pounded hard in your chest. You wanted this more than anything. You wished he’d just kiss you already. Your body ached to feel his against yours again. It had been so long. You were both suspended in time, your eyes locked with each others’.

“I missed you, too,” you replied. He looked relieved at that, like he thought you had moved on. As if you’d ever be able to do that.

“Yea?” He was even quieter that time.

“So fucking much.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“I wish you would.”

Whatever dam was once there broke in an instant. Daniel surged forward and his lips enveloped yours. You couldn’t help the groan that leaked from your throat. You missed this so much it hurt. One of his hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him. His other hand found the back of your neck and his fingers wrapped into your hair. His body was hot against yours, your skin searing wherever it touched his. He backed you into the wall without his lips leaving yours once. You eagerly reached your hands to his hair and pulled on the curls you missed so much which earned you a groan in return. You fit together like two puzzle pieces. 

You gulped in air as he moved his attention to your neck, his facial hair scratching you in the way you remembered. Words couldn’t describe how much you missed this. His leg parted yours to push against your clothed cunt and pin you to the wall. God, if he thought you were moaning like a whore now… He suckled hard on the soft skin of your collar bone and your fingers tightened in his hair.

Things were complicated, sure, but this was here and now. Right now you were feeling pretty damn good for many reasons and your present self didn’t care much about the potential consequences. Daniel was a man starved and you were an oasis in the desert. 

“Take me to the fucking bedroom before I strip you here,” you barely got out.

“Can do,” he replied between pressing kisses up your neck. “Not that I would entirely mind…” His strong arms moved to loop under your thighs and lift you up easily. He took a moment to hold you against the wall and kiss you again. His need was as evident as yours; you could feel him straining against his jeans. His tongue was hot and furious against yours and you feared being fully consumed by him. 

Your body temperature was running at one-thousand degrees and you felt like you were about to burst. Daniel’s tongue was wet and insistent against yours and you drank him in. Soft groans echoed from him and you could barely handle it. He carried you to your room, placing you softly onto your plush bed. His body was heavy upon yours, barely holding himself above you. You took the opportunity to roll your hips against his, eliciting a moan from both of you. You wondered if he was with anyone in your absence and then quickly pushed that thought away. It was none of your business, and you chose to believe the answer was no based on the way he was acting. 

Your hands trailed around each other; you missed the feel of each others’ bodies. Something told you that neither of you would last long. Already you feel yourself soaking through your panties.

Barely able to tear himself from you, Daniel managed to rip his shirt off. He looked just as good as ever and your mouth watered at the happy trail disappearing into his pants. 

“See something you like?” He grins evilly.

“Shut the fuck up and take my pants off,” you sigh. He did not need to be told twice. Your pants were removed in a flash leaving you in your underwear and shirt. The shirt was quickly removed after. Lucky for you, it was nearing laundry day which meant you had only your skimpiest and laciest underwear leftover. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Daniel sighed. 

“I’d apologize but I’m not sorry…”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he leaned back in and placed soft kisses down your torso. His hands pawed your chest roughly, pinching your nipples between his fingers and causing you to keen into him. He came back to place one more kiss on your lips and captured your bottom lip between his teeth to nip at the soft, swollen skin. You rolled your hips into his again but this time he caught them and pushed his own into you to fight back. Everything with him was a delicious push and pull.

He edged back down, but not without placing wet kisses along your torso on his way there. He grabbed the band of your underwear between his teeth and pulled them off. His eyes held yours as he did so and you felt the blood rush to your cheeks. The man knew how to make you blush, that was for sure. They peeled back from your dripping pussy in a way that was almost embarrassing. You didn’t miss when he took the panties and shoved them into his back pocket. 

His lips ghosted over the inside of your thighs and drank you in in a way that made you light headed. You wanted nothing more than him to put his fucking mouth to work. He could sense your urgency and gave a cheeky chuckle.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want this as much as me. I’ll suck your dick if you hurry up and eat me out,” you threatened.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

His mouth was warm and the pleasure shot deep through your core as soon as he ran his tongue over you. 

“Fuck,” you barely managed. Your head hit the mattress - Daniel held you tight and didn’t allow an inch for you to squirm. Your legs draped over his shoulders and your toes curled as he worked on you. The wet sounds that came from your cunt were sinful; when Daniel paused for air and to smile at you, you could see his chin glistening. He was relentless, moaning into your folds and your head started swirling. “Daniel,” you gasped and one hand clawed at his shoulder while the other held tightly to his hair. “I’m not gonna last - if you keep doing that I’m gonna come.”

“Good,” he barely pulled back. Now that he had that information, he didn’t hold back and within a minute you were writhing and moaning underneath him as white hot pleasure coursed through you. He alternated between sucking and swirling his tongue around your clit. His strong arms barely flexed to hold you down as your hips rolled against his tongue. He only relented when your hips stuttered as you became overstimulated. You were gasping and swearing. It was way too long since you’d felt like this. He pulled back, but only far enough to place more open-mouthed, sloppy kisses along your thighs. He let you recover and kissed his way back up your body on your hips, your stomach, your breasts, and finally your collarbones and neck. 

“Sooooo, you said something about getting my dick sucked?” He asked and completely evaporated the heavy mood. You couldn’t help the laugh that exploded from you and you hit his shoulder weakly. He fell back dramatically on the bed, holding his shoulder in mock pain. “You wound me, woman!”

The light humor was nice, but it made your heart ache. You missed this so much and you realized that this ended with Daniel walking out the door. This was all a moment of passion after time apart. He’d take the rest of his things and go back to his life and you’d go back to yours. Instead of wallowing, you chose to shove it to the back of your mind and enjoy the moment that was happening in front of you. You put the smile back on your face and turned your attention back to Daniel. You kissed him deeply and softly once and ignored the slightly confused look on his face.

You pushed him back into the bed and he propped his head up by putting his hands behind his head, and you swallowed hard at his flexing biceps. He still wore his jeans so you palmed him roughly through the thick fabric which earned you a look that could kill. You licked a stripe over the coarse hair that sprouted up his stomach. He was hot and salty with sweat and you craved to take him into your mouth. 

Removing his belt slowly, you teased him; how much could he take? To your surprise, he was exceedingly patient and looked down at you with a disgusting smirk.  You pulled down his jeans and wiped said smirk off his face by placing a feather light kiss over his clothed cock. He smelled hot and musky, and you couldn’t wait to strip him completely. The pants and boxer briefs came off together and got tossed somewhere along the rest of the clothes on the floor.

He was just as you remembered. You suppressed the whine that built in your throat. He was already cocky enough; he didn’t need to know you missed sucking him off. You took as much of him in your mouth as you could, the rest taken care of by your hands. Another thing he didn’t need to add to his ego was his size. He was heavy and warm on your tongue with the sting of bitter saltiness from the precum that leaked from his swollen, red tip. A deep groan came from him and you looked up to see his head thrown back and his bottom lips caught between his teeth. A small ego boost for you too. 

You dragged your tongue from his base to his tip. Following the thick vein that ran up his length, you took him in again and hollowed your cheeks. He couldn’t control the groans and moans that spilled from him and one of his hands came down to wind through your hair and hold it up.

“Look at me,” he commanded. Bold of him, but you had to admit you missed this possessive side of him. You obliged him and looked him dead in the eyes but did not pause your ministrations. You let him push his hips into your mouth to fuck your throat. You were out of practice and gagged once before holding it back. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you loved it. You swallowed around his length and his hand tightened painfully in your hair. His hips thrusted against his own will and his eyes squeezed shut. “Okay… okay, stop, or I’m not gonna make it to the main event,” he breathed heavily. Still got it, you thought smugly. You released him but not before placing one last kiss on the crevice between his crotch and his thigh which earned you a satisfying twitch.

You climbed up, settling yourself on his lower stomach. This was one of both of your favorite positions. Daniel loved seeing you above him, riding his cock and finding the exact right spot that got you off. It was a position that allowed you both some control and he liked being able to see your face. You scooted back and grabbed his length, ready to position him and sink down when he halted you by catching your hips in both of his hands.

“Fuck, I didn't bring a condom,” he sighed and paused. You almost lost your mind. 

“I don't fucking care,” you moaned and pushed against him. “And I'm still on the pill.”

“You didn't stop it?”

“Just be glad I didn't and fuck me already, Daniel,” you whined. You knew adding his name would be the cherry on top of a cake he couldn't deny. He took the head of his leaking cock, swiping it through your folds to collect the excessive wetness there, and pressed himself into you slowly. The stretch ached deliciously. It had definitely been awhile. Daniel hissed between his teeth as you sunk down on his length inch by agonizing inch. 

When he was fully inside of you, you took a moment to adjust. You steadied yourself with your hands on Daniel’s chest, and he grabbed your wrists to pull you back down to him. Your lips met his in a surprisingly tender kiss that stirred things in your chest that you were having trouble keeping buried. You blinked away tears for the second time that night, but this time a warm hand came to cup your cheek and stroke the warm skin there. 

Whatever happened tonight, you hoped you and Daniel talked after this. He brought you so much joy and comfort. His warm brown eyes held yours as if to say everything would be okay.

“Okay, I’m fine. You can start moving,” you breathed out and began rocking your hips. He didn’t need to be told twice and held your hips to guide you up and down on his cock. He felt just as good as you remembered. Maybe better. The room was filled with the harmony of your moans and the wet, rhythmic slaps of your hips meeting each other. There was no sweeter sound.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” he moaned. “So fucking good for me. So tight and fucking soaking. All for me,” his hips snapped to meet your movements. Him calling you baby lit a spark in your belly and spurred you on.

“Faster. Fuck me faster, Daniel,” you whined, desperately chasing your high. He complied and moved faster and harder. He stuck his two forefingers in your mouth and you sucked on them, your tongue swirling around the digits. You looked at him through your lashes and he groaned deeply. You felt deeply in your soul that only you two could have this effect on each other. His thrusts became more erratic, his breathing deeper and faster, and you knew he was nearing the edge. You decided to spur him on, wanting to hear his sweet sounds and see the beautiful face he made when he reached it. You beared down on him, squeezing him and matching his rhythm.

“You’re so good, Danny. You make me feel so good,” you could barely get the words out.

His eyes squeezed shut as he tried to maintain his composure. Sweat beaded on his brow and shined on his chest. One hand left your hip to rub quick circles on your clit to give it right back to you. You were so sensitive from earlier that the effect was immediate. One hand flew to muffle the sounds coming out of you, but Daniel ripped it away. He wanted to hear every sound uninhibited. 

He held on until your orgasm crashed over you. You hoped you wouldn’t be receiving a noise complaint from your neighbors the next day, but would understand why if you did. Your thighs shook and you couldn’t control how you rutted against Daniel like a crazed person. That was all he could take and his hands tightened painfully into your soft skin. He bit his lips hard and his eyes screwed shut. His hips hit once, twice more before slowing. Was that a whine coming from him? God, that sound alone could make you cum again. You reveled in the bliss, slowly moving your hips to ride it out. 

The room was quiet for a few minutes after, save the heaving breathing coming from both of you. Finally, you pulled yourself from Daniel, a soft sigh coming from him. You were battling yourself on what to do next. Now that it was over… What came next? Maybe you would take a hot shower and then he’d be gone with his things when you emerged. That was usually how this kind of story went, right? At least he wouldn’t be around to see you fall apart.

You made a start to get off the bed, but a warm hand wrapped around your wrist. You were pulled back down. Warm arms wrapped around you and then you were laying against his overheated body, your legs draped over his like nothing had ever changed.

“Don’t go,” he said into the top of your head.

[writingadvicesavingcometcon]

I've recently learned that I can't write smutt unless I focus 100% on the characters, their dynamic and the thematic purpose of the sex scene. I'm currently writing Tucker/Felix from Red vs Blue and the moment I figured out why Felix was doing any of this was the moment I got ideas for scenes. Because while the story is from Tucker's perspective (Felix is too rancid for me to try to write in the headspace of and since my stories always need to have the abuse victim being empowered and breaking free after a period of time in the story under the shitty treatment of the abuser, I find everything just flows better if the focus is on them and how it affects them rather than the perpetrator and what their mental process for doing it is), Felix is the driving force of the story because his goal is to break Tucker because he's bored and Tucker is the shiny new plaything (I still have to understand WHY Felix does what he does and how he sees things, I just don't put the focus on him by putting us directly in his head because it's unnecessary and Tucker's feelings are far more important as the person he's mistreating).

Their entire dynamic is so interesting to me and I found once I focused entirely on how Felix would carefully, delicately escalate - constantly testing Tucker's lines and then casually nudging them a few centimetres further until he gets used to accepting that - I knew exactly what to do because I just had to follow Felix's reasoning, thought patterns and long-game plan to reel Tucker in and make him do what he wants.

The prose itself only comes with practice unfortunately, but I cannot stress enough - especially as a gray-ace person who really struggles with finding sex scenes interesting when it's just a sequence of physical sex acts with no rhyme or reason for those specific characters with that specific dynamic to be doing the same cookie cutter barbie doll bumping bullshit they do in filmed real person porn - how important it is for you to focus on your characters and dynamics and existing themes if you're stuck on what to do, exactly as OP said.

Also one quick addition from me: don't be afraid to toss in some unusual factor into the scene.

Felix draws Tucker in with a card game he turns into basically strip poker and uses that plus the sexual interest he built in Tucker from other scenes previously plus pushing on Tucker's natural competitive nature/wanting Felix to respect and like him and uses all of that as the springboard to pressure Tucker into more and more things until Tucker falls into sunk cost fallacy combined with arousal (as well as being drunk because of course Felix included drinking into his slow reel-in methods) combined with the conditioning Felix has already been building in him to do as he's told via how he runs the card game, with a consistent focus on making it easy to pass off to Tucker and others as his own ideas/he was consenting the whole time because he chose to do things himself etc (and we just 'ignore' the fact Felix outright pressured and manipulated him into every single escalation throughout the scene in some way; of course we don't actually ignore it as I do my best to make it subtly clear to attentive readers what Felix is doing, I just also have Tucker be the unreliable narrator who is lying REALLY hard to himself/falling hook, line and sinker for Felix's bullshit).

All of that being done through the specific lense of a card game ended up giving me something new and interesting to build the scene around, which helped influence some of the physical act choices, which then consistently aligned with the themes of making Tucker 'choose' to do things, consistently handing Felix all of the power in the scene (and him doing things/manipulating Tucker and the situation to take it back again any time he loses it for even a second) and steadily moving those boundaries in Tucker's mind at a snail's pace I think he would reliably accept under Felix's careful pace and fine adjustments as necessary to keep him on course.

I'll be posting it hopefully some time within the next year. I have another story I want to finish and post first which focuses on the fascinatingly similar vibes between BDSM and military culture (the latter being a toxic non-sexual version of the former with a complete lack of self-awareness) and therefore has to involve choices which reflect the characters' start in military behaviours then a shifted interest/focus on consensual and caring dominance/submission between them (instead of the highly dubious consent of the malicious-intent long-game manipulative power imbalance between Felix and Tucker).

Once Tucker escapes Felix, I want him to have a recovery fic where he tries to process what happened and take back his control through exploring with Washington, someone who actually cares about him and will do his absolute best not to cause more harm while trying to figure out where the actual lines are with a man who wants to take back control over things a shitty person traumatised him with but may or may not actually be ready for each thing he wants to do. So everything I write for them MUST revolve around that and resolving it and Tucker taking back his autonomy and healing in whatever ways he needs, and Washington trying to help facilitate that while being concerned over making sure he doesn't just retraumatise the poor guy.

But yeah. Everything became actually possible even as a gray-ace when I stopped trying to force myself to focus on SexActsTM and instead put ALL of the focus on the characters themselves and how they interact with each other generally and what they would do within a smutt scene in ways that stay consistent with the entire point of their story.

(Do what you want forever of course, but if you can't write smutt because you don't know what to have the characters do and it's always boring to you and others, a lack of what OP mentions is probably why.)

@saturdaysky Your tags are awesome and so right!!!!

Advice for writing smut???

gonna do bullet-points of things i tend to live by when it comes to smut (this is just my opinion):

don't switch styles: the way you write the smut has to be consistent with the way you write the rest of the story, so if your story is more comedic or romcom-y in nature, the way you write the smut should have those stylings. i personally find it very jarring when authors decide to break the format for the smut, almost like the story has to stop for the sex intermission; if you're writing a horror story, the smut must be informed and influenced by that genre, and if you are breaking genre for the smut portion, tell us why you're suddenly switching gears (it has to be an aesthetic choice you're making on purpose). likewise, if your style in that story is more lyrical, the smut has to be somewhat lyrical too, or if your story is more cormac mccarthy-esque-cut-and-dry, the smut can't suddenly involve an effluvia of purple, sappy prose. integrating the smut in the story and treating it like any other part of the story is key to me. too often i've seen ppl switch to this anonymous pornified style when they get to the smut

which brings me to specificity. i'll talk about het sex, since that's what i tend to write most: not all men are going to be fingering or eating pussy the same way, not all dicks are big and they shouldn't be, not all women immediately get excited by fingering, not everyone moans the same way or makes the same sounds. you're writing about particular characters so it has to be particular to them. i know this is very old advice, but i think it bears repeating

there isn't an exact formula or sequence you have to follow, there aren't precise steps, you don't have to go "well, first he has to kiss down her neck, then reach the boob area, then play with the nipples, then put the nipple in his mouth, then slowly go down on her, then prepare her for entering her etc. etc. etc." this can get boring and repetitive and you start thinking of your characters as these mechanical dolls who have to fuck for your audience. and that can be a vibe too, if you do it on purpose. but sometimes you can get stuck in a porn routine (and ofc, having only the guy show initiative can also get boring)

in order to break that, insert some character moments. what are the characters thinking during this? sometimes they might be thinking of something completely unrelated on the surface, but which has a thematic relevance that can make the scene hotter. likewise, maybe they're doing smth that seems unsexy on the surface, but which, within the context of the story might be really hot. sex doesn't just involve, well, sex, but so much weirdness and humanity and creativity. two bodies (usually) are trying to do this really awkward thing together and they might have a lot of baggage and history to inform it. there's a lot you can do with that.

don't make it glossy and clean, where everyone smells of strawberry shampoo and there is never anything out of sync. the most boring smut tends to be the kind where no one makes any mistakes and everything is super efficient. i imagine it feels like using an industrial pump to milk various farm animals.

and you know what? you can make that hot too. you CAN write a kind of robotic efficient smut and make it really interesting based on the context. let's say you're writing a 1984 AU fic where ppl are forced into intimacy only to procreate and their sex drive is diminished. you can play with that premise and lean into the dehumanizing industrialization of sex, but you have to mean it, aka your narratorial voice must be conscious of these factors.

if you're writing dubcon, make the dubious part present, make sure you draw out the ambivalence and ambiguity. if you're writing noncon, the character whose consent is being violated has to be transformed by this in some way. it can be forced pleasure, for instance, but not only. it has to be a journey for them too, some kind of spiritual pit, or a form of access to terrible knowledge. i know this is a personal thing, but noncon doesn't work for me if the character being noncon'd is just sort of *there*, suffering passively. i think that sort of dead passivity can be done very well too, but the narratorial voice has to persuade me.

that being said, don't be afraid of fear in consensual sex. terror and vulnerability are a part of consensual sex too, imo, and again, depending on the story and the characters, there's a lot you can explore there

i personally find it really hot when the narratorial voice starts discussing some of the ideas that the story wants to convey during the smut. so like, you can characterize person A and outline their worldview and their plans while they're ramming person B, and the thinking & fucking are thus entwined. idk, i dig that

speaking of which, smut can convey world-building details and social/philosophical ideas, not just emotions and character beats

not all smut has to end with mutual orgasm or even one-sided orgasm, it depends what you want to do or where you want to go. again, you don't have to follow a sequence. plus, it's fun (and hot) to write about frustration and failure too.

if you want to mix up the descriptions, resort to the story & characters. you'll find it's easier to describe someone fondling a boob in a new or at least interesting way if you're thinking about that particular character in that particular story, and not just Man X from planet porn (sorry to be snarky, but mainstream erotica is soooo guilty of this)

screaming & really intense reactions are cool but they have to match the characters and the situations

sometimes, it's hotter if an effect is mild or negated, if the usual outcome doesn't happen; mix up the order of events, toy with the usual reactions. it's not about being original, it's about finding out what works for your characters. writing about sex is, in a way, a performance of it, an attempt to go through the sexual motions, to find out what works and doesn't, to engage with the erotics of text (roland barthes entered the chat)

if you are bored by your own smut, that's a problem. i know we all talk about how hard we find writing smut, and IT IS hard, and sometimes it's not enjoyable, because writing itself is often not enjoyable, but even when it's painful and annoying, it gives you that little intellectual kick like "huh, i'm creating this and making these people do this, and ohh look, i can maybe put this unnamable thing into words". but if you become bored, that's a sign you have to look at the language & characters and figure out what's not working for you

last thing i'll underline: pay attention to your narratorial voice. in this ordeal, you are the seducer. not the characters. you have to seduce us with words and context. your voice matters. you have to be confident in your weirdness and particularity. this is your bedroom (so to speak), so invite us in.

[dietcokegirly12]

“What'd You Do to the Eggnog?”

featuring osamu dazai

꒰ ─ ・┈ ☕︎ ⟡ ─ ・┈ ☕︎ ⟡ ─ ・┈ ☕︎ ⟡ ─ ・┈ ☕︎ ⟡ ꒱

art credit: pinterest!!♡

꒰ ─ ・┈ ☕︎ ⟡ ─ ・┈ ☕︎ ⟡ ─ ・┈ ☕︎ ⟡ ─ ・┈ ☕︎ ⟡ ꒱

synopsis: after spiking dazai's eggnog with aphrodisiacs, things get a bit...heated

word count: 1.4k

tags: aphrodisiacs, unprotected sex, dry-humping, needy!dazai, multiple rounds, overstimulation, mating press, cervix kissing, etc etc

kinkmas december 1st ☃︎⊹₊

・┈・╴⊹˚₊ 𓍢ִ໋⛾ ׂ 𓈒・┈・╴⊹˚₊ 𓍢ִ໋⛾ ׂ 𓈒・┈・╴⊹˚₊ 𓍢ִ໋⛾ ׂ 𓈒・

you knew you were in trouble the second dazai got through an entire glass. then, a second one. and he was currently halfway through his third.

you truly hadn’t meant for him to drink that much. it was supposed to be a fun little prank, one where you spiked his eggnog with aphrodisiacs, and got him all needy and flustered, before finally giving in, after teasing him relentlessly.

but, by the time you got back, he was already almost finished with the entire half gallon you made.

lifting the glass to his lips to finish off yet another glass.

"stop!" you raced over to snatch the cup away from him, causing a startled look to flash across his face.

"dazai, please don't tell me you drank all that."

“what? m'sorryyy it was so good! did you put something different in it? cinnamon?"

you swallow. “y-yeah sure. are you.. ah feeling.. alright?”

he furrows his eyebrows. "yeah? so when are we going to start decorating?"

oh right. you two were supposed to be decorating gingerbread cookies for the holidays. in all the excitement, you had forgotten, but now, with the hopeful thought that maybe the aphrodisiacs weren't as strong as you had thought, maybe it was going to be okay.

you had no idea how wrong you were.

"dazai, pass me the gumdrops."

he gives you the glass bowl filled with multi-colored, sugared drops, you quickly pressing them on to your shaped cookie.

"aww look how cute!" you gushed, adding a few last finishing touches with the frosting bag.

"phew, it's hot in here, baby." dazai fans himself, leaning over the counter as he adds candies to his own gingerbread man.

"yeah, i think it's from the oven." you distractedly pipe little swirls, not noticing when dazai's breathing gets heavier next to you.

suddenly, you accidentally squeeze too hard, causing frosting to spurt out in a clump, messing up the neat patterns you had created.

"fuck! 'samu, can you get me a paper towel?"

you should've known something was wrong the instant dazai was unusually quiet, simply turning around to do as you had asked.

but you were too busy fussing over the frosting covered cookies, frantically trying to swipe off the excess in hopes of saving them to notice.

so, when you felt the warmth of someone pressing up behind you, it startled you.

enough for you to almost drop the cookie you had been holding up, especially when that someone moaned breathily into your ear, subtly grinding against you.

"dazai?" you gasp, turning back slightly to face him.

he didn't like that, though, shoving you forward with enough force that it has you bracing your hands on the counter, mouth agape.

"fuck, m'sorry! jus'... stay still. please." the tone of his voice is whiney, and has you clenching your thighs together, already pulsing with need.

he ruts against you with an almost frantic kind of urgency, his bulge rubbing tantalizingly on your ass, as his palms come to cup your breasts, touching anywhere he can reach.

"i d-don't know why i feel like this," he gasps out. "i jus' feel hot all over an'..."

and then you can't do anything but whimper as he pushes you further, until your forehead touches the cool marble of the table, practically bending you in half.

"...you jus' look so good." his hips keep working against you, without any semblance of a pace, just rubbing himself on you as hard as he can.

"dazai.." you manage to groan out. "dazai, it's aphrodisiacs! i put aphrodisiacs in the eggnog, i didn't.. ah.. think they would work, or that you would.. hah.. drink so much."

he stiffens at your words, but doesn't halt his grinding. "oh, you naughty, naughty girl."

his words don't hold any actual malice in them, though, voice too ragged and needy for that.

"m'sorry! m'sorry!" you cry out, as his hips thrust into you harder, humping you vigorously, unable to stop himself.

"s'too late for that now. now..." he pants out. "you hafta help me with the.. ah.. problem you caused, sweets."

you squeal, as he lifts you up by the hips, thrusting your face and chest into the table roughly, already yanking down the thin, lacy panties you had on under your apron.

"samuuu..!" your face is pushed down further into the counter as he grunts above you, tugging down his own loose christmas pj pants, to press his throbbing boner against your bare pussy, slick already seeping out.

"c-can't wait.." he moans above you, hips already dragging languidly back and forth to smear his angry, leaking tip all over your cunt. "s'okay if i put it in now, doll?"

you can only whimper in reply, mouth muffled by the table you're shoved against, bucking your hips back into him as affirmation.

he groans at that, his pulsating cock already beginning to push in, stretching you out as he gets past the first tight ring of muscle, pussy greedily sucking him in for more, more.

when he finally manages to bottom out inside you, bulbous tip thrumming against your cervix, wet squelches are all you can hear as he starts an absolutely brutal pace.

"fuck! what did you put in that eggnog?" he gasps between thrusts, plowing into you so hard, you swear you can feel him all the way in your lungs.

you cry out in reply as he grabs the fat of your ass, pulling you into him harder until the harsh sound of skin slapping against skin echoes throughout the room.

"samu!" you wail. "slower! slower!"

"baby i can't!" he moans, though to his credit, he eases his hands up slightly, hips becoming sloppier with every thrust.

and you can feel your high approaching with every quickened breath you take, stomach coiling up into tight little knots as you clench harder around him, coaxing him to release.

"m'sorry... never felt like this.. ah... i n-need..." dazai's words are all slurred together, practically unintelligible in his rambling as he gets closer and closer.

and then he's cumming.

and you swear the aphrodisiacs had something to do with it, because as he fills you with spurt after spurt of hot, sticky seed, there's so much of it, it has you gasping, his cock releasing long pulses of white into your overstuffed cunt.

your walls spasm and clench around him, milking him for every last drop as your own eyes roll back in pleasure, the taut stiffness of your stomach finally letting go, your vision blurring with white, and thighs trembling.

and no sooner than a couple moments after you've come back down from your high, dazai's already spinning you around, and lifting you up by your plush thighs to fold you into a mean mating press.

you're almost dizzy as you feel the points of your knees pressing against your cushy tits, dazai barely giving you a moment to collect yourself before he's fucking into you raw at this new angle.

"one more.. m'sorry i jus' need o-one more."

"samu..!" you half-moan half-protest, clawing at him as your eyes roll back in your head.

"i know- i knowwww," he rocks his hips back and forth with desperate speed, head tilted back with flushed cheeks and sweaty, mussed-up hair curling to his forehead. "but can you blame me? it's.. hah.. y-your fault!"

you whimper, already feeling tears of overstimulation pricking at your vision, but at the same time, feeling desperately turned on by this side of dazai.

with a feral growl, he throws your legs over your shoulders, stretching you even further to take more of his weighty shaft. "n-need more.. more."

it seemed like he was trying to mold himself as close as possible into your snug cunt, huffing with exertion as he pounds into you with breath after ragged breath, chest practically laid flat against yours.

when he reaches that spot, the one that's soft and squishy and has your toes curling almost instantly, you can't even warn him.

you're cumming.

absolutely drenching him in your syrupy slick, gushing all over his throbbing cock, which in return, pumps out hot, oozing cum deep into you, voice breaking off into a whine.

you pant softly, exertion weighing your limbs down as the last few pulses of his creamy white ribbons spurt into you.

before you've even fully come back to yourself though, you feel dazai crawling up your body to mouth kisses along your neck, cock still fully erect and aching inside you. "o-one more? please?"

tagslist (ask to be tagged!): @urlocalfemcel-xx @ghostedwriting @amanoava @fluffyfrog1619 @chuuyaslittledoll @newnlovesjennie

[midnightorchids]

Hellu Ms.Midnight, could you maybe do a headcanon of Jason slowly falling for vigilante!reader??

hello my lovely, i absolutely can!! i hope you enjoy!!

- Jason has always been labelled as a man of chaos. An angry being with a twisted sense of justice. However, people often fail to mention the humility in him. Despite his negative attributes, Jason is an honest and loyal man. He’s loud, exciting, and completely and utterly charming.

- It was no surprise that when you had first met Jason, you were entirely captivated. He was tall, funny and full of personality. He knew just what to say to keep you coming back.

- Jason felt the same way about you. You were bright and full life—a breath of fresh air.

- Jason didn’t always know how to show his affection and it often translated into an odd form of flirtation.

- He regularly made playful yet suggestive remarks during shared patrols. Though, they were usually accidental and he’d often have to stop and think about what he had just said.

- When you’d laugh at his comment, he’d breathe a sigh of relief. There are times when he’s serious and is afraid that your laughter is a sign of the most evil, horrible, no good, very bad thing—the friend zone.

- He’s touchy too, but not in an uncomfortable sort of way, it’s far from that. On the quieter nights, when it’s just the two of you, mindlessly wondering through the streets of Gotham, trying to find someone to save, he reaches out for your hand. And he’s just so gentle that you give in.

- Jason takes your intertwined fingers and puts them into the pocket of his leather jacket to protect them from the cold, chilly air. You clutch his hand tighter and he swears his heart stops.

- He also has this habit of walking in front of you when he senses that something’s off. He would never want you to walk into danger by yourself and that too, headfirst. It doesn’t matter that you’re completely capable of taking care of things on your own.

- Jason has lost many people in his life and he cannot lose you too.

- He’s really, truly, borderline pathetically in love with you, but unfortunately for him, he just doesn’t know how to say it outright…

celebrating naz’s 1k