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coffee-and-geto · 1 day ago

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DRIVE ME INSANE

“You drive me insane!” you snap, jabbing your finger into his chest. “Yeah, I’d say the feeling’s mutual, sweetheart,” he retorts, raising an eyebrow, his gaze dropping momentarily to the finger poking his chest as though he’s admiring your nerve.

pairing: CEO! satoru gojo! x f!reader

summary: cheating on your husband who couldn’t care less about you, satoru gojo — your fervent lover — has a nasty habit of showing up unannounced, threatening to ruin all the lies you’ve built for your husband so far by leaving all too visible marks after a hot session. however, after a very first argument with him, you’re determined to throw all your anger at him. but neither of you can ignore the tension between the two of you, especially when satoru is ready to take full responsibility.

warnings: +18 MDNI, smut, nsfw, cheating (the husband does it first but according to the timelaps it’s explained all along in this silly fic :p), CEO! gojo, lover! gojo, kinda slight toxic! gojo but he’s just desperately in love, angst, hurt/comfort, angry sex (i tried at least), sex (p in v), rough sex, possessive! gojo, overstimulation, unprotected sex, fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! receiving), he’s rich asf, fanart by @/kiyoro2 on X.

wc: 8,193

a/n: second warning before reading this fic if you didn’t read the warnings: you need to know that the husband in this story cheats on the reader BEFORE her. he’s cold, not loving her anymore and cheating on her BEFORE the actual timelaps but you’ll know it only while reading through, got it?

i don’t like writing about cheaters because they’re horrible but this is just a “revenge” not really said out oud (you have to guess). this is just a warning so some of you won’t catch me with hate/discourse or anything around it because i would have written an “unfair cheater” lol. enjoy reading, tho!

“Hey, darling.”

The sweet melody of Satoru’s voice rings to your ears, sending a crude shiver that runs down your entire spine. Among all of the several times you were alone, with your husband gone to work like a hooked on it, the white-hair man always shows up at your door when you do not expect it.

So, of course, you’re always on the lookout, nervously stealing glances here and there at the door, through the window to check the parking lot of your apartment block, or even your phone if the miracle of him sending you a message occurs. Despite the thousands of times you’ve warned Satoru, the latter doesn’t seem to listen to you.

Your lover goes into your apartment, a classy decoration without any warmth of household — just a simple apartment.

From the cooling fireplace, to the pristine couch and the American kitchen where you are doing the dishes, Satoru always comes to the ‘warmth’ he was craving at your place.

You.

As simple as that.

He’d ignore your groans when his arms find your waist to hug you from behind. And the only sensation of the flat of his torso pressing to your back quiets down every thought, every breath you’d take, every worry and word that would escape the barrier of your lips.

It was just him. Satoru Gojo.

Not your husband. But your lover.

Maybe a word that had a deeper meaning behind any kind of link.

And what hurt the most was the fact that you would crave calling any man that was yours ‘my husband’ in any situation to bring that pride up your chest.

Yet, the last time you’ve pronounced those exact words, was the day you met Satoru.

You were doing the queue for a coffee shop near his headquarters, but how would you know that detail, hm? It was fate, he thought when he approached the queue and ended up behind you as your eyes were glued to the menu card in order that you could choose your drink.

And yet again, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued by you. Your silhouette standing still, vaulted shoulders, a small frown on your lips portraying your hesitation and two beautiful and mesmerizing eyes...

Oh, Lord, that was the only detail from you that this poor man will never forget and will haunt him every single next second.

And, of course, Satoru Gojo isn’t that kind of man who lets fate dictate his life.

He was the only one distracting it. Wanted or not. Period.

“An Americano coffee?” he spoke with his lowest voice to not scare you. He stepped closer to you, his form hovering you as his face lowered to the height of your shoulder. “Thought pretty girls like you always chose espresso.”

Your head jerked up and your eyes met him for the first time.

“W-What…?”

The most unfair, charming smile tugged at Satoru's lips’ corners. “Why don’t you take an espresso? Is it because of the price, darling?” he cooed.

Unsettled by his more-than-strange intrusion, you replied without thinking twice, “Since when, espresso is better than americano?”

And, oh, dear, dear Lord, why were you testing him like this with such an angelic mortal like him? Couldn’t you let him live his life like it was meant to be? Why does this futile and innocent frown have such a ravishing effect on him? Tearing his heart apart, grabbing and stealing his breath to run away with it so he won’t be able to find any air but yours to use to survive in this old world?

“I don’t know. It’s more boring. Not elegant, and not fitting the vibe you give off, darling.” His blue eyes fell down on the ring around your finger, and his mind unconsciously prayed that you weren’t taken.

“It’s my husband’s favorite coffee,” you just responded like an irreversible sentence.

But Satoru didn’t let the situation get him down.

“Oh, so my pretty lady is taken? What a shame.” A little smirk spread his lips, and widened even more when he noticed how low was your affirmation. “I suppose he has bad taste in everything… but for women.”

A furious blush flustered your cheeks. “How dare you—”

“Yes, I dare, darling,” he almost hummed. “You really need someone to show you what is good coffee. Nothing but starting with that. What do you think?” he offers.

The queue moved on, and the chic café provided all the atmosphere of having a nice cup and a nice drink just to chat with anyone on a sidewalk seating area.

But, no, you were newly married. Your husband would be devastated that you’d let yourself be seduced by a complete stranger.

Although not so simple, considering how beautiful he was, with his perfect good looks, no one seemed to see anyone but him. And he couldn’t see anyone but you.

“So what, darling?” he insisted with a gentle tone. “Let me take your order and show you what coffee is.”

He pauses.

“If you may.”

The thought of letting him buy you a cup of coffee had obviously heightened your sense of unease and betrayal. But the memory of your husband leaving early in the morning without hello in your bed, his eternally neutral and unpleasant tone, his female co-workers leeching off him and all the effort you put into making your house feel like home haunts your mind.

With a resigned nod from you, Satoru almost jumped for joy and did a happy dance in front of the whole café.

How long had it been since he’d wanted to act like a child?

Satoru requested a small bottle-green round table on the sidewalk seating area, whose sunshade above unfurled like a fan protecting you from the bright sun of the day.

“By the way, I’m Satoru Gojo,” he introduced himself. He settled into the chair opposite you as the waiter left to take your orders.

You quickly introduced yourself. But the young albino didn’t fail to notice how lovely, humble and charming you were.

The perfect woman for him.

“I’m a CEO,” he added, maybe to impress you.

Surprise streaks your features. “Oh.”

He had expected more of a reaction from you, but you ended up disappointing him.

So he tried to restart the conversation to break the ice that had formed between you and him. He wasn’t one to usually go after people who were already taken. Yet, his instincts told him to stay with you. As if the north and south poles couldn’t help but attract each other, Satoru was slowly but surely drawn to you.

The orders were placed delicately on the table, and your lovely espresso cup, so exquisitely prepared, almost broke your heart at the thought of ruining its beauty by drinking it.

“This café serves the best coffee in town, you know. I come here often enough to say that with confidence, and also to notice that you didn’t know it,” he said, taking a sip from his own cup before propping his elbow on the glass table to rest his chin against his hand. “Admit it, you walked in here by chance.”

You almost choked on your sip of espresso, startled by his perceptiveness.

“It’s written all over your face, darling,” he said with a grin.

Still reserved, a hint of embarrassment flushed your cheeks with a soft blush that Satoru could have died to kiss.

“So?” he changed the subject. “How’s the espresso?”

“Very good,” you mumbled, lifting your gaze to meet his. Then you hesitated to continue with your real thoughts. Would he get bored listening to you like your husband usually did? Would he cut you off to end what he might see as pointless chatter?

“Just very good?” His eternally sincere and attentive smile lingered on his lips. He was definitely ready to hear every word you had to say.

You took a small breath. “Actually, the espresso has a sweet vanilla aroma that gives it a smooth taste on the palate, lingering just enough to make you want more. The foam is also very pleasant because it’s neither thin nor too frothy. The texture is creamy and at the perfect temperature to avoid burning your tongue.” You let out the last breath that the whole monologue had cost you.

“In short, it’s perfect,” you added softly.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Satoru murmured, his eyes locked on yours as if they would never let go, haunting forever the memory of the moment you two met.

“Glad you like it, by the way.”

For a first meeting, it could have seemed trivial. When it was time for you to leave, Satoru found the courage to ask for your phone number. To your own surprise, you accepted without hesitation. His company was pleasant, after all. He listened to you without ever interrupting, and seemed genuinely interested in you. And as a bonus, he was easy on the eyes.

So, was it really surprising that you looked forward to your next meeting with him?

“It’s not a date,” you reassured yourself in front of your mirror while applying gloss and straightening your clothes to keep them spotless.

The second time you met, it was at the same café.

The same orders.

But with a little more joy.

And with every meeting, there were a little more laughs, more teasing, more good moments, fewer bad memories flying away, and your doubts fading into the tranquility that Satoru Gojo brought you.

He quickly became an excellent friend. As you started opening up more and more to him, he began to allow himself to give you advice, rolling his eyes approvingly during your ranting sessions about your husband, where, despite the pang in his heart, Satoru kept repeating that you deserved better.

And as time went by, your bond with him grew stronger. You didn’t feel so alone anymore. He always found time for you, even when he was busy at the office.

Your husband’s absence quickly became just a minor detail in your life.

Especially when Satoru started showering you with gifts you categorically refused. If it was a dress one time, the next it was a necklace of genuine pearls, or lunch at fancy restaurants you never thought you’d set foot in.

The guilt inevitably crept up on you from every angle.

Whether it was over the fact that Satoru’s devotion to you made you feel illegitimate in receiving so much from someone who wasn’t even your partner. Or your husband.

Was it betrayal?

You weren’t cheating on him.

You were just spending time with someone who made time for you.

How could one equate cheating with this friendship, right?

This question lingered until the day, during a dinner with Satoru, when he had stepped away for a few minutes to settle the bill, a young man approached your table, trying to flirt with you and convince you to end the evening at a nightclub his friend owned, where they’d be delighted to meet you along with the rest of their crew. With all due respect, you refused, despite the young man’s persistence.

And when Satoru returned to the table, he immediately sat beside you, his arm infuriatingly well-placed around your waist to keep you close.

“Can I help you? My wife seems tired; tell me what you need,” Satoru chimed in, his tone icy as he glared at the young man.

“You’re married?” the man choked out, his tone echoing the same shock you felt internally.

“Yes, I’m her husband. Isn’t it obvious?” he confirmed.

Later, in the chilling silence outside the restaurant, Satoru restrained himself from pulling you into a tight hug as the two of you walked down the street. You walked at a more reasonable distance from him, your chin lowered in guilt toward the ground.

The night sky was a deep navy blue that evening. The stars barely sparkled, and only the snow added a touch of brightness to the urban landscape, where the yellow and orange streetlights could never match the glitter in the sky.

“You alright?” Satoru asked softly, stealing a concerned glance at you.

“I’m… fine,” you muttered.

He couldn’t hear any more of that. “Hey, if this is about what I said earlier—”

“Who said it’s about that?” you snapped defensively. Suddenly, it felt like all the perfect moments had turned into nightmares.

“I didn’t mean to make you unco—” he began, but you cut him off again.

“Who said I was uncomfortable?” you bit out, your brows furrowing as if you couldn’t take any more. “It’s not like I feel like a cheater—”

“Don’t call yourself that. It’s him,” Satoru interrupted sharply, immediately grabbing your wrist to hold your hand. “It’s all his fault. So, please, don’t feel—”

“God, I’m a married woman, Satoru, for fuck’s sake!” You tried to pull your hand back, but Satoru held it tighter.

“And a woman who also deserves better than to feel bad for her shitty husband who’s probably cheating on her!” he fired back with the same intensity. “Do you even see what you’re losing with him, at least?”

“Where is this conversation going?” you asked, squinting. “What the fuck do you mean? For weeks now, you’ve been telling me I deserve ‘better’!”

The situation felt so wrong yet so right at the same time. But it was only in Satoru’s eyes, watching you with a worried crease between his brows, that the truth lingered.

Of course, he didn’t want to lose you.

“Because you do,” he mouthed.

“But with who?” you cried out in despair.

“Isn’t that obvious?” he whispered, echoing his earlier words.

Even though the two of you had stopped walking and now faced each other, the wintry wind continued to swirl around you, biting at your cheeks already burned by the cold, screaming the answer behind his words. Snowflakes tangled in your hair, scarf, and coat. On Satoru, it was different — the snowflakes melted into his hair, his nose and cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, and every exhale left a white cloud trailing from his lips.

Only his eyes remained untouched. Fixed on you. Truthful.

“You can— You cannot,” you finally sighed, ignoring how your body felt simultaneously on fire and frozen. You staggered toward a nearby wall. “Take back what you just said, not to me,” you whispered almost pleadingly. You shut your eyes for a moment, as if trying to wake from a nightmare.

Satoru closed the distance between you in a single stride.

He gently took your hand and placed it against his chest. “Yes, you’re right. I cannot. My heart is yours. I cannot deny it. I cannot control it. I cannot help it. Do whatever you want with it. Even broken and unrequited, my heart is yours and only belongs to you.”

His breath brushed your cheek so tenderly it felt unreal — yet so undeniably real.

And this time, from your point of view. No longer his.

The suffocating closeness became unbearable. You were about to break. He needed to step back, to leave, to go.

“I— I…” you stuttered.

Thoughts swirled in your mind, just like the snowflakes around you both. Every thought blurred together, and only one tried to rise above and clear the chaos.

But it was the worst thought of all.

And yet, the only one capable of deciding the next move.

In a spontaneous gesture, you bent your head toward Satoru’s lips, sealing both the kiss and the fate he had always fought against.

It didn’t matter if you both ended up hurt.

No matter what the consequences.

Now was not the time to think about that.

As you tried to pull away from Satoru to catch your breath, he pulled you against him the next second to taste you once more, the heat intensifying even more to the point of melting the snow falling on you. Each kiss exuded forbidden desire and despair.

And even when you two pulled away, you didn’t keep any gap.

Just you and him.

As it was always supposed to be.

To feel.

To live.

Fluttering your eyes open, you come back to reality.

How did you get here?

It's a familiar scenario, or not.

Satoru arriving unannounced, you busy with household chores, your husband away for perhaps the next day.

But a premonition clouds all common sense.

This day is different. You don’t know from where, or who or what, but one thing is sure.

This time spent rambling has made you forget all about the dishes still waiting for you, while a plate and a sponge damp with foam hang from your hands. Another very humdrum day. Grey sky, water-logged clouds ready to pour and burst in a storm that never comes.

Satoru’s arms wrapped as a feather’s touch around you doesn’t feel as good and soothing as before.

“Missed ya,” he mumbles close to your ear. “How are you, darling?”

“You know that he could be here,” you scold in a low voice. “You can’t keep showing up at my door unannounced.” You continue with your dishes without returning any embrace. Nothing seems to fit. Your response is borderline nasty.

“You’re alright?” he asks softly anyway, not detaching himself from you.

His voice resonates like a cave inside you. A cheater who’s also unfairly mean, how can a better description describe you? you think.

You hum.

One of Satoru’s large, rough hands tenderly caresses your waist. “Do you have time for me? If you’re not tired, of course. I can’t help but need to crave your presence.”

Your heart slowly contorts in your chest, hidden beneath the cage of your ribs. “I didn’t mean to be rude, sorry—”

“Don’t apologize, love.” He presses a sluggish kiss on your cheek. “You must be so tired.”

Only the sound of the water rushing down in the sink can be heard in the kitchen. You close the tap and sigh, hands resting on the edge of the sink. “I need to finish the dishes and some chores, maybe you can sit on the couch and rest?” you offer, slightly turning your head around to meet his gaze.

How can a man be so perfect?

“I can help you,” he offers too, then puts a long forefinger on your lips to quiet you. “It wasn’t a question.”

If only this man could be your husband. Life would be easier in his company, wouldn’t it?

About half an hour later, Satoru fully joins you in your cleaning mission, tackling everything from the remaining dishes to the dusting and other tasks that make him scrunch up his nose in mild disdain.

As he wanders into the bedroom you share with your husband, Satoru passes by a photo frame he hasn’t truly noticed before. It’s a simple picture of you, smiling brighter than ever alongside a man who should be him. The man with HIS arm wrapped around your waist. The man with HIS lips pressed against your temple while, in Satoru’s eyes, you radiate as the sole light of his life in your wedding dress.

You pass quietly behind Satoru, a clean cloth in hand.

“Toru?” You rise slightly onto your toes to peek over his shoulder, noticing what has held his gaze for so long, leaving him as still as a statue. “Oh. I was going to clean that.”

Taking the frame into your hands, a pang of guilt twists your heart as Satoru’s blue eyes follow every inch of the photo. His gaze weighs on you, heavy and suffocating with discomfort.

One sweep of the cloth, and the modest frame gleams.

“Why do you keep it?” he asks in a breath.

You look up, your gaze as lost in his as you are. “What do you mean?”

“This picture,” he says, pointing at it with his finger. “Didn’t you say you wanted to throw it away?” His low tone brushes your cheek with a soft rumble, and his features tighten in a small frown of confusion, the weight of which seems to press on your soul.

“I—” You sigh. “My husband put it here. I don’t know why.”

“And you didn’t throw it away.”

You open your mouth to respond but hesitate, unsure of what to say.

“...You know I can make your life easier, don’t you?” Satoru murmurs as he slowly, almost theatrically, lets his arms wrap around you after tossing your cleaning cloth aside.

“I know,” you murmur, as if it’s the most obvious truth. As always, your body melts against his, the way two souls inevitably fuse together.

“Would you leave this life behind and finally settle down with me?” His arms tighten around you, pulling you flush against him as he takes a deep breath into the crook of your neck. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.”

The atmosphere in the room thickens suddenly. Guilt surges within you, as it always does. It seems like it can never leave you alone.

Of course, Satoru is hurt—that much is clear.

“I really would, Satoru, but right now, it’s complicated,” you breathe against his collarbone, the corners of your lips tugging downward.

“When will it stop being complicated, then? If not now, when?” His grip on you tightens.

“It’s not that simple.” Familiar terror coils in your stomach now, threatening to drown you. This conversation is heading toward turbulent waters.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to align his face with yours. His eyes search yours for answers. “You know, sometimes I wonder how long I can keep waiting for you to finally decide if I really matter.”

You blink twice, stunned, before resting your hands on his shoulders. “Hey. What do you mean by that? You matter to me—you know that, don’t you?” Your brows furrow gently, your expression softening despite the rising tension.

“I don’t want to hide anymore. And I don’t want to see you stressed about hiding either,” he whispers in a gruff tone. His expression mirrors your own: lips slightly pursed, brows furrowed, and eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and worry.

“I’m… sorry,” you murmur, the only words you can manage. They are genuine. They are truthful. Just like Satoru always is with you—never a lie.

Even when he leans down to kiss you slowly, you can feel his emotions pouring into it.

Hurt. Today, you ponder, returning the movement of his lips as your eyes flutter shut.

Quickly, the pressure of his lips grows more intense. Each time your mouths part, Satoru makes sure they reunite as swiftly as they separate. Breath soon becomes scarce, and things take a turn when his hands grip your hips so firmly you fear marks might be left behind. You try to pull away quickly.

“Satoru, wait— I need to be careful this time, you know,” you whisper softly against his fervent lips. “It’s been a while now that he’s started wondering why I don’t want to have sex with him.”

“You always come up with an excuse, don’t you? A few marks won’t mean anything,” he mutters, eyes closed, as though the fire within him burns hotter than ever for you.

“He’ll see them. I just want you to be careful,” you insist. But your attempt is futile, as his kisses grow more passionate. Each one is placed meticulously on the sensitive spots of your body while he gently guides you toward the bed, lowering you onto it.

“I want to please you so badly,” Satoru confesses, his vulnerable gaze meeting your half-lidded eyes as he hovers above you. His eyes brim with an intensity that makes your heart ache.

“Let me take care of you.”

Your expression softens immediately, the growing heat between your thighs matching the fire in your chest. “I want it too, baby. But are you sure you want to do this?”

He nods firmly. “I’m sure. And you?”

“I am.”

In the moments that follow, you no longer plead for him to avoid leaving marks. Deep down, you doubt he’ll listen to you on that.

Especially when his lips press against your neck, your collarbone, the shell of your ears, and the valley of your breasts. His mouth kisses, sucks, marks, nibbles, and even gently bites at your skin—all to draw whimpers, moans, and sighs of pleasure from your lips. The same lips he endlessly worships, just as he does every inch of you.

~~~~

Fresh out of the shower, alone but with your phone, you receive a message that immediately catches your attention as you sit cautiously against the edge of your bathtub.

I might be a little late tonight. Have dinner without me.

Your heart immediately falls into the pit of your stomach.

Is this for your co-worker again? Can’t she finish her work on her own like everyone else?

A minute later, a message appears:

It’s normal, I’m her superior.

At the same time, your eyelids contract around your eyeballs. You feel a rush of heat, and adrenalin tingles your insides.

You know I don’t like her. And yet you continue to spend more time with her than with me. Do you think that's normal?

Why do you always have to get mad? Just admit that you’re jealous.

And the last word is like a slap in the face.

This is how you started.

Part of you knew it all along. But another part was in denial. It was shortly before Satoru became your lover that your husband started seeing a female colleague far too often, making eyes at her while you stood there like an idiot, watching them exchange glances where your voice would carry the same weight as the silence of their own eye contact: nothing.

Satoru had warned you.

He tried to prevent your heart from breaking as much as possible.

And this is the result when denial wins out over reason:

...You like to call me ‘jealous’ these days, tell me?

And the irony reeks in your message.

Of course, he started calling you ever since that infamous colleague showed up.

It’s as if he’s implying every time that you’d be envious of something you don’t have. So, it’s easy to figure out now, isn’t it? Why would he even talk about jealousy otherwise?

And why does he just leave your message on ‘read’?

~~~~

“I told you to be careful.”

“You always know how to escape him.”

“I’m running out of excuses.”

“You’re smart. You’ll fix it. As you fix everything.”

And who to fix me?

Sitting in front of your vanity, you swallow, feeling sick to your stomach as the purple and blue marks Satoru has left on your body from his hickeys don’t disappear from your view even as you discreetly pinch your arm to check you're in a nightmare.

Unfortunately no.

After pressing your anxiety-stricken face into your trembling hands, you lift your head to meet your reflection once more. In the corner of the mirror, Satoru’s silhouette lies casually, a smug, teasing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Your shaky fingers grab hold of your cheap foundation, the cap refusing to budge under the weakness of your frantic movements. Every second wasted only fuels the growing panic — your husband could walk in at any moment.

The beauty blender, however, seems just as uncooperative. Each attempt leaves you looking more like a clown. No coverage.

Only regrets. Regrets you can no longer conceal, no matter how much you try.

A heavy, trembling sigh escapes you despite your best efforts to stay calm. From behind, Satoru lets out a distinct chuckle, rich with amusement at your growing frustration.

He’s moved closer now, standing right behind you, his gaze almost entertained as he watches you struggle to mask the marks with concealer this time. But no layer of makeup can save you. None is thick enough or looks natural enough to hide what you’ve done.

“Why are you even trying? It’s not going to work,” Satoru whispers close to your ear. “Why not just give up and tell him the truth?”

“Satoru, get out.”

“Make me.” His tone is dripping with that insufferable grin.

You clench your fists, fighting the urge to smash it right off his face. Your heart hammers in your chest like cannonballs, threatening to break free from your compressed rib cage.

Everything can’t fall apart this quickly, can it?

Not after all the effort you’ve put in.

“You look like a clown, by the way,” he quips, the bluntness of his words scratching your heart. You let out an involuntary, quiet, “Ouch.”

“Did you just come here to use me as your personal slut? To call me a clown? If I knew, I wouldn’t have let you in at all,” you spit as you turn your head, locking your glare onto his.

Satoru’s expression softens at the sight of your deepening frown. “I didn’t come for that. And you’re not a slut. Why are you so mad?” He cautiously places his hands on the backrest of your chair, his movements calculated.

You scoff bitterly. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“You’re still mad about the marks? It’s just a few bites and hickeys—it’s not that big a deal,” he says, though his face mirrors yours: tense, confused, and searching for answers.

He’s never been like this.

“If you’re hurt, then I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I just want you to stop stressing over some bites. I’ve always done this. I haven’t changed, you know.”

You turn completely in your chair to face him, blood rushing in your temples. “Tell me this is a joke. Or a prank.”

“I said I’m—”

“Why didn’t you listen to me about the marks? About the fact that I don’t have any excuses left? He’s going to find out now. And instead of helping me, you’re mocking me because I look like shit with this?” you shout, pointing at the streaky, cakey makeup smeared over your collarbone.

Is this what a couple looks like? Fighting to hurt each other as much as possible?

Satoru can see how deeply his behavior wounds you. The way you swallow carefully, trying to keep your emotions at bay. The way your eyes are beginning to redden, signaling the impending arrival of tears.

Lowering his voice, he speaks, hoping against hope that you’ll break down and let him handle everything. Let him erase this life with your husband and give you a better one. He knows you can keep living under a mountain of lies, but he’s suffocating.

“Okay, I’m really sorry if I hurt you,” he murmurs.

“If you were that sorry, you wouldn’t lie about using me whenever you please. You wouldn’t just act how you want without asking me what I truly want or need. Why? Because you’re selfish, Gojo,” you snap, your voice cracking slightly. You rise abruptly from the chair, intent on leaving the room before you explode.

He immediately grabs your wrist, pulling you into him, and tilts your chin up to meet his eyes. The panic in his movements betrays him—he’s afraid you’ll say something that will tear him apart.

“Don’t—Don’t call me that. Sweetheart—”

“You know what? Just tell me I’m your slut. Because that’s clearly what I’m meant to be for you,” you cut him off, tears pooling in your eyes and threatening to fall. You yank your wrist out of his grip with a sharp movement.

His hands move to cup your face, desperation bleeding through his trembling fingers, even as he tries to conceal it.

“Okay, I messed up. But please, don’t degrade yourself. You’re not my slut. You’re the only person I love and care about. I—” He exhales shakily, his jaw tightening and relaxing in quick succession. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just… I’m so damn jealous. I get so jealous when I think about him… with you. I can’t stand it anymore.”

“Is that all this is? Jealousy? What’s the fucking point of it?” you retort, shoving his hands and arms away with enough force to make your blood boil. Then, in a blind fury, you hurl the concealer bottle across the room, the sound of it hitting the wall echoing like a final, deafening blow.

Satoru flinches slightly at the sound of the concealer bottle hitting the floor. He knows you’re holding back, teetering on the edge of exploding. “It’s not just jealousy,” he admits softly. “It’s fear, anger... and love, I guess.” He runs a tired hand through his snowy hair, sighing deeply. “And knowing I can’t have you the way I want to… that drives me insane.”

A vein pulses visibly in your temple, your frustration bubbling over. “You drive me insane!” you snap, jabbing your finger into his chest.

For a brief moment, Satoru’s lips almost curl into a smirk, but he stops himself when he sees the fire blazing in your eyes. He knows you’re serious, that this isn’t the time for his antics. Yet he can’t help but find you captivating like this—unapologetically yourself.

“Yeah, I’d say the feeling’s mutual, sweetheart,” he retorts, raising an eyebrow, his gaze dropping momentarily to the finger poking his chest as though he’s admiring your nerve.

The silence that follows is suffocating. The only sounds are your heated, shallow breaths, echoing in the small space between you.

You take several slow, deliberate steps back, your eyes fixed on his ocean-blue gaze. You catch the flicker of a moment—a split second where his eyes dart to your lips.

The tension between you is almost unbearable. The faint brush of his hips against yours as he steps closer sends a ripple of unease and anticipation through you. Your breaths mingle in the narrowing space. You both know exactly what’s happening, yet neither of you moves to break it.

“I hate you, you know that?” you whisper, pouring all the bitterness and hurt from your chest into the words.

Satoru raises an eyebrow, his face a mere breath away from yours. His broad, powerful form looms over you, trapping you against the wall without lifting a single hand. The tension radiating from him is magnetic, suffocating.

“That’s a lie, and we both know it,” he says, his voice soft and calm, but laced with that maddening confidence.

His heart pounds wildly in his chest, the light graze of your body against his and the fiery defiance in your darkened eyes making him dangerously close to losing control. He wants to kiss you—devour you—so badly it hurts. But he knows he’s already crossed lines, already messed up.

He clenches his fists, willing himself to stay composed. He would never take advantage of you like this. He’d rather let you hurt him, use him, break him into pieces.

Oh, screw it.

“Sweetheart,” he mouths, barely audible. His lips form the words so softly that you have to read them. His intense eyes stay locked on yours, unwavering. “What are you thinking right now?”

“This isn’t the time for your stupid jokes—”

He silences you with a single, long finger placed gently on your lips. “Answer the question, love.�� His towering frame looms closer, his voice a deep rumble, and the tension only thickens.

You take a shaky breath. “Y-Yell at you, hit you, throw everything I have at you to finally make your goddamn mouth shut for good,” you hiss, your anger slipping through the cracks in your voice.

“Do it, then. I’m the one who’s wrong.”

Your lips part, and your eyes widen in surprise.

Satoru grabs your trembling hand and firmly places it against his chest, right over his racing heart. His voice softens. “Go on. Yell at me. Hit me. Use me however you need to.”

His pulse mirrors yours, beating in sync, loud and unruly.

Your gaze catches the subtle flicker of his eyes darting to your lips again, the ever-so-slight sway of his body bringing him closer.

When you lift your hand, Satoru doesn’t flinch. He braces himself, ready to take whatever you’re about to give him.

But instead of striking him, your hand fists the collar of his shirt. With one hard tug, you pull him down, crashing his mouth onto yours in a desperate, fiery kiss as though it’s your last breath.

Satoru responds immediately, kissing you back with the same raw intensity. His large hands snake around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips, teeth, and tongue all move in a fervent, chaotic dance with yours, each touch more intoxicating than the last.

When he finally pulls back, his breath is ragged, his lips still brushing against yours. He doesn’t let you go, his arms holding you close as if letting you go would shatter him.

“Sweetheart,” he rasps, his voice low and rough, chest heaving against yours. His hand trails to your neck, then your jaw, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “What are you thinking now?”

His warm, uneven breaths ghost over your lips, and you fight the overwhelming urge to kiss him again. Your anger hasn’t fully subsided, still simmering beneath the surface.

“You. You’re haunting me. Sometimes so much that I can’t think of anything else,” you admit, your voice trembling with emotion.

His eyes burn brighter, the ardor in them impossible to miss. “God, sweetheart…” he murmurs, pressing soft, fluttering kisses along your neck, his lips scorching your sensitive skin. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this. Wanted you. Only you. No more lies, no more heartbreak.”

Each kiss he plants on your skin draws breathy, unsteady sighs from your lips. “Y-You’re selfish…” you manage to say between ragged breaths, your nails digging into the firm muscles of his biceps. “So fucking selfish…”

“If being this desperate for you, for your love, is selfish, then I’m on my knees, my love,” he replies, his voice like velvet. He kisses the marks on your skin, the ones you tried to cover, with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “I’m all yours. Completely yours.”

He slides the strap of your tank top down, revealing more of the skin he adores. His lips graze it gently as he whispers, “I didn’t mean a single word about you looking like a clown. I just want you to be happy… with someone who loves you and doesn’t cheat on you.”

His hands cup your face delicately, tilting it up so your eyes meet his. His voice drops to a whisper, raw and sincere. “I’m deeply sorry, sweetheart.”

The genuine vulnerability in his gaze hits you hard.

You punch his chest — not out of anger, but because you don’t know what else to do with the emotions clawing at your chest. “I hate you, remember?”

A smile spreads across Satoru’s face, soft and warm, despite the tension in the room. “As much as I’m obsessed with you.”

Your free hand tangles itself in his silky white hair, tugging lightly as your fingers weave through the strands. With just enough force, you pull him down once again, capturing his lips in a searing, passionate kiss that holds every ounce of anger, frustration, and longing you feel for him.

As surprising as it may seem, Satoru lets a smile stretch against your lips — pressed together in a sloppy, wet kiss that blends tongues, lips, and teeth. Your chest, magnetized to his, feels the pounding of his heart, each beat drumming against you like a bass drum.

Your teeth part, biting his lower lip cruelly, hard enough for a faint taste of blood to seep into your mouth. Yet, he doesn’t seem fazed by it. In fact, he lets himself get intoxicated by your steamy breath, swallowing every gasp of air you exhale as if it’s his only source of oxygen.

With a natural ease, one of Satoru’s hands grabs yours and pins them above your head, pressing them against the wall as his pelvis grinds into yours. You feel the growing bulge you’ve provoked pressing against you.

“See what you do to me?” he breathes in your ear, breaking the kiss sloppily.

“And you’ll lose it completely when I fuck you until I’m the only one you’re thinking of,” you snap back, wrapping one leg around his hip before climbing fully onto him. With both legs now locked around his waist, your back is pinned to the wall, and your newly freed hands are poised to ravage your lover.

Blood rushes through your temples, creating a buzz in your ears. Your flushed ears mirror the crimson tips of Satoru’s. Supporting you with one arm, he uses the other to trace a finger across your lips, smearing the remnants of his blood there.

“Can’t wait to think even more of you — even though you already fill all my dreams and nightmares,” he murmurs with a sly grin. Then, both hands slide to your thighs, gripping them as he carries you to the bed—the same bed where you had your last steamy session with him.

Kneeling at the foot of the bed, Satoru settles between your legs while you lay back comfortably, fully aware he plans to take care of you before you ruin him. With practiced ease, his rough but tender hands remove your pajama shorts and panties, discarding them to the floor with a soft rustle. Your skin is adorned with earlier marks—purplish bruises, handprints, and hickeys — all of which tell a story (a decidedly sexy one, at that).

Just the sight of your spread legs, offering him an unobstructed view of your glistening, swollen folds — still slick from earlier—ignites a fiery tremor in his core. He’s practically salivating at the sight but regains focus when your heel presses sharply against his shoulder, a silent demand for urgency.

“Don’t make me wait,” you mouth, locking your gaze with his as his mouth inches dangerously close to your core.

Impatience mingles with the tension crackling between you. The moment his lips close around your clit, a hiss escapes your mouth.

Your fingers thread through his snow-white hair as though it’s the only lifeline keeping you from falling into the abyss. His warm, skilled tongue laps at your folds with slow, ravenous intensity. Every stroke of his tongue sends jolts of pleasure surging through you, spurring him to drink you in until his thirst is quenched.

“Satoru, f-fast—ah,” you stammer when his tongue flicks your now puffy, sensitive clit with pinpoint precision.

Your eyes roll back, your breath quickens, and your body trembles with each wave of pleasure. Your hands tug incessantly at his hair, driving him absolutely wild.

“Faster?” He looks up at you, his mouth still latched onto your center. “Is that what you—lick—want? Keep ripping my hair out, then.”

And that’s exactly what he makes you do. Your hips buck involuntarily toward his face, and he grunts in approval, gripping your hips with his large hands. Then, he lifts your legs over his arms and shoulders, perfectly positioning himself to devour you even more deeply.

Determined to make you cum as quickly as possible, the tip of his tongue teases your dripping, needy entrance. He feels your walls fluttering, your core pulsing and throbbing, empty and desperate.

The idea of filling you crosses his mind.

“Poor thing needs to be filled, huh?” he chuckles darkly, his voice thick and gravelly.

When he slides a long finger into you — slowly, carefully — the way your velvety walls clench tightly around him nearly makes him lose control on the spot. You grip his digit so tightly, drawing him deeper, that every movement inside you elicits louder, breathier curses laced with frustration.

“Don’t try to mock me, you bast— ah!” you moan, throwing your head back on the mattress the second after the pad of his forefinger reached your cervix — a spot that you can never reach yourself and even your husband. “Oh my God, I hate you so much…”

“You know what I love the most when we’re doing it?” Satoru whispers with a smirk, bringing his damp lips back to your clit to suck your bud at the same time as he’s fingering you. “When you lose all—kiss—your—lick—control—suck—only from my touch, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he purrs against your core, his finger curling up right in your sweet spot. “Say you hate me baby, I’m just waiting for you to be ready and take care of me.”

“I—you buck your hips harder—hate you,” you groan louder and firmer than earlier and clench around him right before cumming hard, hips bucking up against him and arching your back with no control over it.

Your vision blurs and star-like spots pop on your darkening vision. The intensity of your orgasm crashes over you so hard that for a few seconds, you’re losing almost all your senses — hearing, sight and touch — because of your mind going dizzy.

When the sensation wears off, a quick glance to the side reveals an already undressed Satoru, his impatient length just waiting for your attention — already twitching and hard like rock for you.

With a wry smile plastered to his lips, he reaches over you to grab your hips and gently lift you up and switch places — him lying on his back and you sitting so sensuously on top of him with your thighs delicately wrapped around his hips. He can't resist submitting to you completely.

Your still pulsing core rests straight on his cock, like you are riding him for real — or not yet.

Your senses restored, you don’t wait long before raising your hips, Satoru’s hands still holding them, and taking in his drooling length of precum with one hand. As you lower your hips, the fat tip of Satoru's dick pushes forward your hole and gets trapped in your walls glistening with your juices.

You both moan at the same time, head throwing back and mouth open ajar from the strong pleasure. Each inch that was moving further more into your cunt until the mushroom tip kisses your cervix was already being milked because your walls are so fucking sensitive that it’s making Satoru’s eyes roll back and babble nonsense.

“Sweet— Sweetheart, don’t squeeze y-yet, I need time to—” But you cut him off with your forefinger pressed against his handsome lips.

“Nuh-uh.” You lean in with a mischievous smile plastered on your face, eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of being on top of him. “You’re going to be a good boy and take my pussy, understood?” And you punctuate your warning with a sharp bounce of your hips that makes him moan with pleasure then nod hurriedly.

“Mhh—hmph!”

So you start moving your hips up and down with purposeful slowness.

Your hand wraps around his throat and squeezes gently. Your hips bounce harder each time, and you ignore Satoru’s uncontrolled moans, which, despite his clenched jaw, can't help letting out moans and whimpers of pleasure.

“Who’s a good boy, tell me?” you ask, thrusting down your hips along his cock harder once more.

“N-Not gonna say it, sweetie,” Satoru chokes out between breathless hiccups because your hand squeezes his throat harder. “You can bet it— God…” He can feel your walls tightening around him, your core pulsing and his length throbbing inside you and at the verge of spilling out all the cum his sensitive balls were holding back. His hands grip your hips with more force that it’ll leave marks but you both don’t care anymore.

It’s just you and him having sex to see who will break first.

Your heavy, noisy breaths — not to mention the wet sounds of your skin slapping against each other — fill the room. Hot blood courses through both your veins, but nothing can stop your hips from slamming mercilessly into Satoru, tightening every time you’re bouncing on him.

Even though you two are at the verge of reaching orgasm, you wanted to have your way with him this time.

“I hate you, Satoru Gojo,” you groan, leaning your chest against his before moving faster as your breath. His arms wrap around your back to get you close and then he can start matching your movements.

He presses his lips on your ear and whispers breathlessly, “I’m your, utterly yours,” right before cumming at the same time as your, his semen filling immediately your cunt as you clench around him and let out a similar pathetic whimper like him.

Toes curled up and eyelids shutting down, you both hug each other until the orgasm goes away. Not before a good one minute. Silence fills the room before your brain melts away to focus on the still rapid beating of your heart against Satoru’s chest.

“After this, I’ll help you pack your important things and we go home. Our true home, okay?” he murmurs against your ear. “I’ll give you the life you want and deserve, sweetheart. No need to think about anything or anyone else.” And he concludes with a loving kiss on your temple as you nod, resting your cheek on his collarbone.

His big hand runs through your tousled hair before continuing to tenderly kiss your burning faces.

“I hate you,” you mumble, your mind growing heavy for a sleep.

“I love you too.”

a/n: it's been a while that i didn’t write a long one-shot like this one but it’s relaxing in a way lol. a big thank you for @/lymsfm for helping me through this hell, i genuinely don’t know what i would do without you and sorry for all my rants and your patience by listening to me getting crazy for literally everything 😭. so on this, i hope you guys enjoyed this fic and see you soon! <3

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422

@drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @catrizzz @sanemistar

@monokaix @moonlitwitchdaisy

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ivyyisbored22 · 2 days ago

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠—𝘏𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘫𝘪𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: You and your hubby Hyunjin go out shopping when he sees a cute toddler running around the mall laughing and giggling. The little human catches your husband's attention, sparking an enormous baby fever, so now he wants a kid with you...

Content Warnings: Pregnancy. Smut 🔞, Unprotected sex, baby making, soft Hyunjin, fluff, pet names (use of mama (only twice)), oral (f.recieving), very brief mention of lactation, reader is called darling.

Note: I know not many enjoy the pregnancy trope but I really really wanted to write this. I just love husband/dad!SKZ. (I definitely am not going through insane baby fever rn). This is so fucking sweet my teeth might fall off.

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count: 5.1k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

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“Darling, don't you want to go?” Hyunin cooed, his words vibrating on your skin, his eyes admiring you cutely being adamant to get up.

Your eyes were half lidded, your head against his chest, feeling the soothing heartbeats under your ear. Hyunjin woke you up with kisses and an amazing orgasm, with his face buried in your heat in the morning.

He couldn't believe that it's almost going to be a year since you got married.

Hyunjin and you planned to go shopping for the day, get some donuts and perhaps watch a newly released movie. You loved such cute dates with him even though he loves spoiling you with extravagant trips like a dinner in the Eiffel Tower or a week long vacation in Maldives.

But the simplicity of these outings was what you cherished most.

“I’m getting up,” you mumbled sleepily, though you made no effort to move.

Hyunjin chuckled, the warm melody of his voice that only deepened your reluctance to leave the cocoon of his arms. His fingers brushed over your hair as he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Take your time,” he said softly, his breath tickling your skin. “I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

You smiled, your eyes still closed, nuzzling to him, cheek pressed against his bare chest and his embrace tightening around your body.

After some coaxing and spending a long time in the shower together, you both managed to get ready.

You got dressed in a cute flowy dress that you knew Hyunjin loved. You stepped out of the bathroom, he was sitting on the edge of bed, his grin widened when he saw you spinning once to show off the outfit.

“Gorgeous as ever,” he murmured, reaching out to take your hand. You slipped your hand in his and went downstairs, giving a quick smooch to your pet golden who was sleeping soundly on his bed and left your mansion, off to the mall.

***

The mall was bustling with life, the sound of laughter, chatter, and soft music blending into a lively hum. Hyunjin held your hand firmly, his thumb brushing against your knuckles as you walked past various stores.

You bought a lot of things from new ornaments for your home, snacks, clothes, Hyunjin immediately bought you with a new Versace handbag you were curiously eyeing while window shopping and grabbed lunch in the restaurant on the top floor.

The day went amazing. Once you were done, Hyunjin called his driver to help with the bags while you both got some donuts like he promised.

As you walked over to the bakery, Hyunjin’s attention was caught by a high-pitched giggle. He turned his head, his eyes landing on a tiny toddler, no older than two, stumbling through the crowd, his chubby legs moving as fast as he could.

“Careful!” a frazzled mother called out, chasing after the little one, but the toddler was too busy enjoying his newfound freedom. He bumped into Hyunjin’s leg, looking up at him with wide, curious eyes.

“Hello there,” Hyunjin said softly, crouching to the toddler's level. His long fingers reached out hesitantly, offering a small wave. The toddler giggled again, reaching for his hand as if he just made a new best friend.

Your heart swelled at the sight. Hyunjin had always been good with kids, but seeing him interact with this tiny human stirred something deeper in you. The mother finally caught up, her chest heaving, but not disturbing the interaction with Hyunjin.

“Sorry about that,” the mother apologized, “He just loves to run around.”

“Please don't worry. He's so cute,” your smile reached your ears, watching how the toddler was laughing and playing peekaboo with Hyunjin.

You and the mother conversed for a minute before she scooped her child into her arms. Hyunjin stood up, watching them with a wistful expression as they walked away. The kid smiled wide and waved goodbye to him.

“You’re staring,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze still lingering as the mother disappeared into the crowd. When he finally turned to you, his eyes were softer than you’d ever seen, his lips curling into a small, almost shy smile.

“Gosh, how freaking cute. I think my heart burst inside me.” He dramatically touched his chest that made you chuckle and shake your head.

“I think you're the cutie here,” you flirted with your husband that made his cheeks bloom in a bright shade of pink.

You grabbed your donuts and walked another round in the mall, before you hopped in the car going back home. Hyunjin didn't speak a word, just stared outside the window holding your hand tightly, your head rested on his shoulder.

Once you reached home, the driver unloaded the bags from the car into the living room, you and Hyunjin went upstairs to your bedroom.

Closing the door, you walked towards your dressing table, removing your earrings, hairpins and fixing your hair loose.

Hyunjin, who was still lost in his own world, walked towards you and slipped his hands on your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“You were pretty quiet on the way back home. Everything okay?” You asked, turning towards him, your gaze fixed on his eyes.

“Yeah…” He mumbled softly and you tilted your head curiously, your brows knitted together.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asked quietly, his voice barely audible, he felt his heart pound in his chest like a drum. It was unusual for Hyunjin to feel nervous but he was feeling a bit nervous today.

“Think about what?” you asked, wrapping your hands around his neck.

“Having one of our own,” he said, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. “A little one… running around and giggling. Someone who’s a part of both of us.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with emotion. You blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his gaze.

“Hyunne,” you began, your voice faltering.

“I know,” he said quickly, his hand moving to cup your cheek.

“I know we’ve never talked about it seriously. And if you’re not ready, that’s okay. I just… I can’t stop thinking about it and seeing that kid at the mall...His small hands and legs, chubby and so cute. I don't want to pressure you, let's—”

“I…I want that too.” you whispered, interrupting him, reaching to hold his hand against your cheek. “I want to have a baby with you…to start a family with you.”

You’d always known Hyunjin would make an amazing father, but hearing him voice his desire so openly, so vulnerably—it left you speechless.

Hyunjin stared at you without saying a word, his gaze softening and sparkling, almost as if he was about to cry.

He swallowed, his Adam's apple flexing, a dimple making an appearance as he leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours. “You'd be an amazing mom.” He said, his voice full with emotion.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the weight of them settling in your chest. "And you’d be the best dad," you replied, a small laugh escaping you as you imagined him doting on a child the same way he doted on you.

"You think you're ready for this darling?" Hyunjin’s question lingered in the air, his voice low and husky, filled with a mix of tenderness and curiosity.

You nodded slowly. "I do," you whispered, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling within you.

It was a huge step but it was with Hyunjin and you couldn't have asked for more.

His thumb touched your chin, gently pulling you in for a long, searing kiss. His mouth moved over yours, tongue slipping in, you let him take the lead like you always did, your fingers running through the silk stands of his hair.

His fingers toyed with the strap of your dress, you walked backwards, pulling him and unbuttoning his shirt till you reached the end of the bed and fell softly on the mattress.

It didn't take long for him to remove the dress off of you, you pushed the shirt off his shoulder and played with his belt to unbuckle it, and soon enough it was skin to skin contact.

Hyunjin’s lips met your jaw, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses, his fingertips stroking your nipple that hardened instantly under his touch. His trail reached your neck when he nipped your sensitive skin, leaving marks on your neck to remind you that you were his.

You moaned softly, moving your head slightly to give him better access, his hand continued to explore every dip of your body. His other hand intertwined with yours, the heat building slowly, the desire to have him inside you fueling with every passing second.

When his fingertips brushed over your clit, you couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips. The slow exploration continued till he touched your slick folds, you felt him smirking against your skin knowing how wet you were.

“Hyun…” you pleaded, your fingers tangling his hair, growing impatient but wanting him to keep going.

Hyunjin was dragging it for as long as he could, his touch being so gentle, caressing your body like you were a goddess, his fingers circled your clit with a tantalizing rhythm, his movements precise and slow. Your body reacted instinctively, hips arching to meet his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

“Patience baby okay…?” He murmured, his voice low but soothing. “I want you to feel everything tonight.” His breath was warm against your ear, and the rasp in his tone made your stomach clench with anticipation.

You nodded, your body already surrendering to his every touch. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice laced with awe.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue flicking over the hardened peak as his fingers worked their magic below, dipping inside your folds. The combination had your head spinning, the pleasure building steadily, consuming you.

“Hyunjin please,” you begged, your voice breathy and desperate.

“Not yet,” he whispered, releasing the slick nub with a pop, his lips moving lower, leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach.

His mouth replaced his fingers, tongue slipping between your folds, tasting you with deliberate slowness.

You gasped, your hands snaking his hair as his tongue worked its way around your clit, the sensation sending sparks through your body. He alternated between gentle flicks and firm pressure, his pace maddeningly perfect.

You squirmed and he scooped his arms under your thighs to hold you in place. Wetness coated his face, the scent of your arousal making him dizzy and groan into your sensitive flesh, his hands kneading your pretty mounds.

When his mouth left your dripping core, you mourned at the loss of it, but the anticipation built in a flash when he positioned himself between your legs.

You watched him stroke himself a few times with the essence of your arousal still coating his fingers.

His gaze locked with yours as he slid inside you slowly, both of you moaning at the feeling. His cock stretching your walls was delicious, you eagerly welcomed his length inch by inch, his movements deliberate and controlled as he filled you completely.

Hyunjin leaned down, his lips brushing against yours as he began to move, his rhythm slow and sensual. Every thrust was measured, his hips rolling against yours as if he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

His hand intertwined with yours, pinning them above your head and the other cupped your breast, kneading it and flicking the peak.

“You feel so good darling,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “So beyond perfect.”

Moan after moan poured out of your lips, your bodies moving in perfect rhythm, every touch, every kiss, every whispered word sinking deep into your hearts.

He made love to you so wondrously that your body went lithe beneath him, the pleasure built high, Hyunjin’s pace quickened slightly, his movements still controlled but more urgent.

He placed his palm over your lower tummy, gently pressing and circling it to stimulate you more.

“Let go with me,” he whispered, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

He was drenched in sweat, the intense throbbing of his cock making him feel like he might explode any second.

It only took his words to undo you as you surrendered to the pleasure, body seizing up, the wave of your orgasm crashing over you. The sensation consumed you both as he followed close behind, hot cum filling you, his groan of pleasure muffled against your neck.

Hyunjin held you close as you both came down in a toe curling climax, your bodies tangled together, hearts racing in unison.

He gently lowered himself down, careful not to crush you with his weight, his softening cock and warm cum still buried inside you.

“You’re my everything,” he whispered, his lips meeting yours.

You looked at him, chest still heaving, and smiled softly when he pulled back. “I love you,” you said, your voice full of certainty.

“I love you more,” he replied, his forehead resting against yours.

The afternoon sun crept through the windows of your living room windows, you sat on the couch with your ankles crossed on the coffee table, reading a book when suddenly your golden retriever came up in front of you wagging his tail.

“Hey baby,” you stroked his head, he began leaning up to your touch instantly that made you smile.

You continued petting him when he leaned forward and rested his head against your stomach, his eyes closing and tail still wagging.

“Aren't you being clingy today?” You said jokingly, he blinked lazily at you, his breathing like a soft motor vibrating against you. You chuckled, setting your book aside to give him your full attention.

But as you absentmindedly stroked his fur, you noticed something unusual. Your stomach felt�� different. Not painful, but there was a faint flutter, a sensation so subtle that it could easily be dismissed.

You frowned slightly, brushing it off as your imagination or maybe just a quirk of digestion.

Your mind did keep wandering over the fact that you couldn't sleep well for the past week and you kept feeling more tired than usual, without even doing anything.

Now, as you sat there with your dog contentedly laying against your stomach, you couldn’t help but wonder something.

Right as you were about to get back to your book to stop overthinking, you heard the familiar sound of an engine pulling up at the entrance. The door opened followed by Hyunjin, stepping in, his hair slightly tousled.

“Hey, darling,” he greeted, his eyes instantly finding yours. A smile spread across his face when he saw the dog sleeping on your lap. “Looks like someone beat me to cuddling you.”

You laughed, gesturing toward the furry intruder. “He’s been glued to me all afternoon. I think he knows I was planning to get up and clean.”

“Guess he’s trying to keep you in one spot. Smart guy.” Hyunjin leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before stroking the dog’s head.

The dog let out a low bark in protest when Hyunjin’s hand brushed yours, as if annoyed at being interrupted. Hyunjin laughed, his dimple making an appearance. “Alright, alright. I’ll share,” he teased, sliding onto the couch beside you.

You rested your head on Hyunjin’s shoulder, locking fingers with him, asking about his day. He went on to talk about things happening at work which you never get tired of listening to and the afternoon went on yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different.

Could it really be? But you dismissed it as wishful thinking.

Two lines. On one test.

Pregnant. On another test.

Your heart was in your throat. Hand covering your mouth as you stared at the test in front of you, you couldn't believe it. A tidal wave of happiness and disbelief washed over you, both the tests screaming at you about the happiest news of your life.

You grabbed the test with the two red lines on it, holding it in your fist and walked out of the bathroom, spotting Hyunjin who was sitting on the bed with his laptop open.

“Hyunne,” you called out and walked towards him, kneeling down on the floor and hiding your hands behind you.

“Yes baby?” He asked curiously and you pulled your hand from your back, revealing the test to him.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened, closing his laptop shut and tossing it next to him, a smile resembling shock and joy plastered across his face.

“You’re serious?” he asked, his voice shaking with excitement and disbelief.

You nodded eagerly, tears of joy streaming down your cheeks. “We're pregnant Hyunne! You're going to be a dad!”

As soon as the words left your lips, a wave of pure, uncontainable happiness surged through you. You shot up from your kneeling position, jumping up and down like a child on Christmas morning, laughter spilling from you uncontrollably.

Hyunjin stood quickly, grabbing your hands to stop your excited bouncing. “Darling, wait!” he said with a laugh, his tone laced with affection and concern. He caught you effortlessly, his arm locking around your shoulders, pulling you in a tight embrace, his palm pressing and circling your stomach.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, your breath warm against his skin. “We’re going to be parents,” he said, his voice trembling.

You felt him shake slightly, and when he pulled back, you saw tears glistening in his eyes. His hands instantly chipped your face as he kissed you passionately, soft and full of promises, you couldn't help the tears that leaked from the corners of your eyes.

Hyunjin knelt down pulling apart and his arms snaking around your waist, his lips pressing on your stomach before looking up at you with a smile so radiant it took your breath away. Your fingers ran through his hair, holding him in place as he bonded with his baby.

It was the most beautiful thing you ever witnessed.

Five beautiful months passed and your love for your baby grew stronger each day. Hyunjin was so supportive, from helping you with your awful morning sicknesses to putting your shoes on.

He provided you with an infinite amount of love, snacks, cuddles and of course sex. Your hormones were all over the place, and Hyunjin made sure to meet your every need, no matter how big or small.

He was always attentive, patient, and there to remind you just how much he loved you.

Even when you felt bloated, cranky, or unattractive, he’d look at you as though you were the most beautiful woman in the world. “You’re glowing,” he would say, his hands resting gently on your growing belly as he admired you.

Evenings became your favourite part of the day as Hyunjin and you took a daily walk with your golden. He insisted on carrying a water bottle and a jacket for you, just in case you needed it. His hand never left yours, as you strolled through the neighborhood.

Everyday he would talk to the baby, about his day or anything that came to his mind, rubbing smooth circles on your swollen belly, his voice soft and full of excitement.

“I’ll teach you how to draw like me, and maybe we can even paint murals together someday,” your heart melted every time at how sweet he was.

Just like Hyunjin, your dog was also extra, extra clingy, always walking around the house with you as if he was protecting you or curling up beside you on the couch, his head resting on your tummy as if he could sense the tiny life growing inside you.

Hyunjin would chuckle every time he caught the sight, teasing, “Looks like someone’s trying to win the ‘favorite sibling’ title already.”

You’d laugh, gently scratching behind your dog’s ears. “He’s just protective, like you,” you say, smiling at how your little family was already bonding in its own unique way.

Your doctor’s appointment was this morning, you were laying on your back on the hospital bed as she spread the cool gel on your belly, the sensation making you shiver slightly.

Hyunjin stood by your side, holding your hand tightly, his thumb rubbing gentle circles to calm you. His face was a mix of excitement and nerves, his eyes fixed on the screen as the doctor prepared the ultrasound.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the machine, and then it happened, a rhythmic, steady sound filled the air. Your baby’s heartbeat.

The doctor smiled, pointing at the screen. “There’s your little one. Everything looks perfect. Nice strong heartbeat, healthy growth. Congratulations.”

The grainy black-and-white image showed the tiny life growing inside you. “It’s real,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin let out a shaky laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re amazing.” His voice was thick with love and emotion.

“You need a lot of care darling, we should go home soon.” He said concerned.

You turned from the screen and looked at him shaking your head. “Nope. I want to go on a honeymoon.” You said trying to sound serious which made Hyunjin chuckle.

“Honeymoon? Baby, that's for newly married couples.” He said brushing away a strand of hair from your face.

“Newly pregnant couples can go as well,” you said. “I want to go on a honeymoon and then go home.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, then shook his head, his lips twitching as he tried to suppress a grin.

Once the ultrasound was over, the doctor printed out the pictures and handed them to you, Hyunjin held them like they were the most precious treasure.

As you left the appointment, Hyunjin was on his phone, booking days at a beautiful resort on the same day for one week; a private villa with a serene spa, and cozy restaurants with candlelit dinners.

Your face bloomed with excitement as the two of you drove home and packed your essentials for your one amazing “honeymoon”.

After a whole day of sun bathing, a relaxing spa and an amazing dinner, Hyunjin and you were back in your bedroom in the cozy villa.

He was massaging your swollen feet after a lot of walking, you sat on the bed, your back pressed against the headboard.

Watching Hyunjin be so patient with you, made your heart swell with adoration and your hormones kicking back in again, making you feel needy.

“Hyunne,” you called him, who was rubbing gentle circles on your ankles, your voice low and soft.

“Yeah darling?” His expression softened further when he noticed the way your cheeks flushed and your lips parted slightly, like you were searching for the right words.

“Come here,” you murmured, your voice carrying a mix of longing.

“What is it, my love?” he asked, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You leaned into his touch, your heart pounding as you searched his gaze, pecking his lips. “I just… I want you,” you admitted softly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his black tank top.

“You have me,” he replied, his voice a gentle caress. “Always.”

“No,” you said with a soft laugh, shaking your head as your hands slid up to his chest, fingers tracing over the top. “I mean, I need you. Right now.”

“Are you sure, baby?” He was concerned but it also sparked excitement within him at the same time, he stroked your tinted cheek smiling warmly.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, leaning into him, your lips brushing against his. “I want to feel close to you.”

Hyunjin didn’t need any more convincing. He kissed you deeply, his lips moving over yours with a slow, deliberate intensity that made your toes curl.

His hands slipped up your waist under his hoodie you were wearing, stroking your skin lightly before it traveled downwards, toying with the waistband of your panties.

You shifted, letting him slide it off you, his hand squeezing your thigh that made you moan into his mouth. His thumb grazed the soft skin of your thigh before it continued moving, he pulled back, his eyes sparkling with nothing but love.

“You’re so beautiful mama,” velvet laced his voice, the new nickname made your cheeks flush in heat.

Hyunjin removed his tank top and held the hem of his hoodie, you nodded, letting him remove it off your head, leaving you bare in front of him.

His eyes drank the sight before him. Your swollen and sensitive breasts, glowing belly that’s carrying your child, something dangerously possessive consumed him but he mentally promised himself to be gentle.

He laid your back on the mattress, his mouth meeting yours, long, sweet and tenderly, swiping his tongue over the seam of your lips that sent a jolting sensation through his veins.

His hand circled your belly and massaged your swollen breasts making you moan, feeling relieved as your fingers immediately tugged his hair.

A thumb brushed over the sensitive bud, a wet droplet soaked his fingetip and heat pooled between your legs, your thighs squeezed together. You pulled apart and looked down at his finger stroking your leaky nipple, he couldn't help but smile at your flushing face.

He found that more sexier than anything.

His face dipped in your chest, lips meeting your warm skin, it was addicting. You were addicting to him. Your hands roamed over his back, as his kisses trailed lower, following the curve of your body like a path only he knew.

Hyunjin felt your fingers press on his shoulders, guiding him, urging him forward with a silent plea that he was more than willing to answer.

The sight of you lying beneath him, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, your breath catching in your throat, it was like witnessing heaven.

He spread your legs apart, his lips finding the soft skin of your thigh. He pressed a lingering kiss there, feeling the muscles beneath your skin tense and then relaxed as he made his way closer to your centre.

The sight of your pussy so slick and swollen with arousal stirred something primal inside him. His fingers gently spread your wet folds, revealing your beautiful core, a hiss escaped your lips at the contact.

"Do you want my mouth darling? Hmm?" He coaxed, teasing you, placing a feather light on your clit.

"Want me to eat your pretty pussy and make you come?" The raspiness coating his voice made a shiver run down your spine, you nodded, chest heaving.

"Please— please Hyun... I need you on me." You pleaded which also sounded like a command that made him chuckle lowly.

His breath fanned over your sensitive skin and when his mouth met where you needed him the most, your back arched ever so slightly off the bed, a whimper escaping from you.

"Hyunjin..." You gasped, your voice trembling with need, your fingers sliding into his hair, tugging lightly as though you couldn’t decide whether to pull him closer or keep him there, teasing you forever.

He didn't respond. Instead he smirked against you, his tongue flicked your folds and sucked on your clit that had you squirming. His tongue circled the bud in almost lazy strokes that had you sighing his name like a prayer.

He let his hands slid up your thighs, spreading you wider as he went, giving himself more room to work and taste. His left hand rested on your belly, his thumb brushing back and forth, the cold wedding band on his ring finger touching your heated skin.

His cock twitched and strained his pants, begging for his attention and dive inside you, but he shoved it aside even though the throbbing felt painful. He wouldn't do that.

He loved bringing you to the edge and tease you till you were a squirming mess.

Your breaths turned erratic when his tongue moved faster, you were lost in your haze of pleasure and whimpers growing louder, hips jerking as you clung onto Hyunjin like he was your lifeline.

The tingles built up way faster than it would normally, you would have found it embarrassing if you weren't pregnant.

Hyunjin's eyes were glued on you, knowing that you were only a few seconds away from snapping, his hands slid up to cup and knead your breasts, causing liquid to leak out of your peaking sensitive nipples.

"I'm close... I'm so close please..." You breathed.

With one last languid lick on your pulsing bud, you crashed down, only his name pouring out of your lips, your orgasm flooding in his mouth. Hyunjin lapped up every single drop, helping you ride out your pleasure until you were gasping and trembling from the aftershocks.

Once your climax subsided, Hyunjin trailed his way up, kissing every part of your body, your thighs, your belly and the swell of your breasts that were soaked with leaked milk.

Right this moment you looked way more gorgeous than you ever did before to his eyes. He had put a baby in you, his pride was uncontrollable.

"You okay darling?" He asked, brushing away the strands of hair sticking on your face and kissing away the tears that rolled down your cheeks that were flushed pink.

You nodded breathlessly, pulling him so your mouth met his. You could taste yourself off his lips.

Hyunjin smiled, “Come on mama, let's get you cleaned up.” And he gently scooped you up in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom.

4 months later

“SHE'S HERE!”

The wailing protest of cries of your newborn echoed, bouncing off the walls of the labour room. Tears had run down your cheeks, Hyunjin’s eyes were wide with disbelief, a hand covering his mouth as you both welcomed your baby to the world.

The nurse quickly cleaned and handed your baby girl over to you, wrapped in a neat towel, the bundle of joy snuggling and sleeping soundly against your chest.

“Hello baby,” you said softly, your pinkie finger stroking her cheek. “I'm your mom.”

Tears kept rolling down your face, Hyunjin was there by your side the entire time, his heart clenching with an unbearable amount of love and awe as he watched his wife and his baby.

You looked up at him, seeing his eyes swelled with unshed tears, he leaned down to press his lips on yours, his breath hitching.

“Thank you for this baby,” his voice cracked as he stroked your hair and kissed your temple, his lips trembling against your skin. “Thank you for being so brave darling. You're incredible.”

Your smile widened despite the exhaustion, and you reached up to wipe away the tear that slipped down Hyunjin’s cheek. “We did this together,” you whispered. “She’s a part of us, Hyunne.”

Hyunjin nodded, his fingers shaking as he gently caressed the tiny hand that peeked out of the blanket. “She’s perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Just like her mom.”

The baby stirred slightly, her tiny lips parting as she let out a soft, content sigh. Hyunjin chuckled softly, his eyes glued to her delicate features—her button nose, rosy cheeks, the faint wisps of hair on her head.

You scooted a bit so that Hyunjin could sit next to you, you gently handed him your baby, he carefully held her in his arms, his heart thundering behind his ribcage.

“Hi, little one,” he whispered. “I’m your daddy. And I promise to protect you and your mama with everything I have.”

Tears welled in your eyes again at his words, and you reached and kissed him on the cheek, watching him already become the best father in the world.

“We’re a family now,” you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude.

Hyunjin smiled nodding, his gaze never leaving your daughter. “The best family.” He said looking at you, his voice unwavering.

As the first rays of dawn filtered through the hospital window, painting the room in soft gold, this was the beginning of the most beautiful chapter of your lives.

Enjoyed this one shot? Consider checking my masterlist for more. Requests? Check 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 (& 𝚁𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜)

Thank you for reading!

xx,

Ivyy

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solxamber · 3 days ago

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Hiii!! first time requesting and I absolutely love your white rabbit and angel one, but what about a jellyfish mc with the octavinelle trio and diasomnia group? Where their head empty an airhead but is actually really smart but gets distracted easily.

Octavinelle + Diasomnia with Airhead! Jellyfish! Reader

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul was prepared for almost anything—except you. At first, your airheaded nature confounded him. You’d stare blankly into space during conversations, occasionally blurting out unrelated thoughts like, “Do you think stars get lonely?” or “What’s the difference between squid ink and octopus ink?”

To Azul, you seemed like an easy mark. Someone too scattered to notice loopholes in contracts or the fine print. But the first time he tried to rope you into a deal, you stared at the contract for an uncomfortably long time, then pointed out five contradictory clauses and suggested a more efficient way to write it.

Azul had never been so humiliated yet so intrigued. How could someone so spacey also be so sharp? He began inviting you to the Mostro Lounge under the guise of needing “assistance,” but it was just an excuse to pick your brain.

He’d grumble when you got distracted mid-conversation to follow a particularly shiny object, but he found himself watching you with a mix of exasperation and fondness. Your unconventional intelligence challenged him, and your whimsical nature softened the edges of his ambition.

Jade Leech

Jade found your airheadedness endlessly entertaining. At first, he mistook it for naivety, but when you casually corrected one of his mushroom classifications while admiring a random shell, he realized there was much more to you.

You fascinated him. The way your attention flitted from one thing to another like a butterfly, yet you still managed to come up with solutions to problems no one else could. Jade often tested your intelligence by subtly steering conversations into complex topics, only for you to surprise him with insightful answers delivered in the most absentminded tone.

“Jade, did you know the anglerfish has a symbiotic relationship with bacteria for its light?” you’d say, staring off into the distance. And just like that, Jade’s carefully laid plan to throw you off would unravel.

He enjoyed the unpredictability you brought into his life. Your head-empty demeanor paired with startling intelligence kept him on his toes, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Floyd Leech

“Oh, Shrimpy’s got no brain cells, huh?” That was Floyd’s first impression of you, and for a while, he treated you like his personal amusement. He’d throw random questions your way just to see what absurd answer you’d come up with.

But the day you absentmindedly explained the physics behind the Mostro Lounge’s faulty pipe system and how to fix it? Floyd was floored. His mouth hung open for a good five seconds before he burst out laughing. “You’re a sneaky little jellyfish, aren’t ya?”

From then on, Floyd decided you were his favorite. He’d sling an arm around your shoulders and drag you around, showing you off like his prize catch. “Shrimpy’s dumb-smart,” he’d declare to anyone who’d listen, grinning ear to ear.

He loved how unpredictable you were, never knowing if you’d say something brilliant or completely off-the-wall. Floyd thrived on chaos, and you were the perfect mix of calm airhead and hidden genius to keep him entertained. He might tease you endlessly, but deep down, he adored you for being unapologetically yourself.

Malleus Draconia

When Malleus first met you, he found your airheaded nature oddly calming. Unlike others, you didn’t seem intimidated by his presence. Instead, you’d blink at him in wide-eyed wonder before blurting out random thoughts like, “If dragons hoard treasure, do they also have snack stashes?”

At first, Malleus assumed your absentmindedness was due to a lack of understanding. But during one of your meandering conversations, you casually corrected his misconceptions about a historical event—one even he hadn't noticed. He realized you weren’t just carefree; you were deeply knowledgeable in your own peculiar way.

Your ability to switch between whimsical musings and sharp observations fascinated him. He found himself seeking you out for your unique perspective, even if you occasionally got distracted by a passing butterfly mid-discussion.

“Child of Man, you are quite… unique,” he’d say with a soft smile, finding solace in your unorthodox approach to life.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia thought you were adorable. Your head-empty demeanor reminded him of the carefree youths he’d seen in his centuries of life. He’d often pop out of nowhere to startle you, laughing when you gasped and then immediately got distracted by a question like, “Why is it called a jump scare if I didn’t jump?”

But it didn’t take long for Lilia to notice the flashes of brilliance hidden behind your seemingly aimless chatter. You’d drop profound insights into conversations as if they were afterthoughts, leaving him pleasantly surprised.

“Oh-ho! You’re sharper than you let on, aren’t you?” he’d tease, ruffling your hair affectionately.

He loved how unpredictable you were, and he often encouraged your tangents just to see where your mind would wander. To Lilia, you were a delightful enigma—one that made his long life all the more entertaining.

Silver

Silver appreciates your calm presence, even if he sometimes struggled to keep up with your wandering thoughts. He’d sit quietly as you mused about the stars or wondered if birds dream, finding your voice soothing no matter how odd the topic.

He initially thought you were simply a kind but scatterbrained individual. However, when you offhandedly helped him improve his sword stance with an unexpectedly insightful comment, he realized there was more to you than met the eye.

“You notice things most people overlook,” he said, his tone soft with admiration. From then on, he started paying closer attention to your words, knowing they often carried hidden wisdom.

Silver respected your unique way of thinking and found comfort in your presence, even when you got distracted mid-sentence. To him, you were a gentle yet brilliant soul, someone who brought unexpected light into his life.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek was baffled by you. At first, he couldn’t fathom how someone so easily distracted could survive at Night Raven College, much less so many Overblots. He’d often lecture you, only for you to nod absentmindedly and then ask something completely unrelated, like, “Do crocodiles ever get lonely?”

It drove him up the wall. He thought you lacked focus, which was unacceptable to him. But then, during a heated argument about magical theory, you calmly pointed out a flaw in his reasoning that left him speechless.

Sebek stared at you, wide-eyed, before clearing his throat and crossing his arms. “Hmph! I see you’re not as oblivious as you appear,” he muttered, trying to mask his begrudging respect.

Despite his initial frustrations, Sebek grew to admire your hidden intelligence. He’d still scold you for your airheaded tendencies, but deep down, he appreciated your unique perspective and the unexpected wisdom you brought to the table.

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gothcsz · 2 days ago

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El Cumpleañero | Javier Peña x F!Reader | ~8.3k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: It's Javier's birthday, so you show up to his party and things get fun.

Tags: friends with benefits dynamic, jealous!javi (can't help myself), flirting, dancing, javi is a little ooc here but idgaf i need him (in my head he's a bit younger in this au), some untranslated spanish, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), back shots for days, a lil bit of exhibitionism on javi's part, creampie, one use of a degrading term (slut), some dirty talk, pussy pronouns, facial, no use of y/n, reader is afab and able-bodied, little to no physical descriptions of reader, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: hiiii everyone! this is my humble submission to @yxtkiwiyxt's never have i ever challenge with my prompt being never have i ever woken someone else because i was too loud during sex 🙈 kiwi bb tysm for hosting such a lovely writing challenge for us, i hope you enjoy this smutty fic! oh, and i am dedicating this one to @letsmeetintheafterglow, amorcito, you left such me a juicy request in my inbox for javi that i just had to write! so, i merged it with the challenge prompt 🖤 hope you dream of him tambien ☁️ also, i couldn't help but project my fantasy of wanting to dance to corrido/banda music with javier. i feel like he's actually a pretty good dancer! swinging ya around to the beat of the song with his hand at your lower back and a modelo in the other. ugh. the song la niña fresa basically inspired the nickname javi calls reader 🍓 and just sets the vibes, i think. as always, let me know that you think and thank you for reading 🖤

The backyard is buzzing with the chatter and laughter of what feels like half the town, the smoky scent of barbecue wafting through the air and the twang of a corrido blasting from oversized speakers, making the ground shake.

You walk through the fenced yard, the southern breeze grazing your skin as familiar faces nod or wave in passing. Your eyes scan the crowd, skimming past clusters of people dancing and conversing, all of them gathered to celebrate someone who swore he didn’t want a fuss.

Of course his family didn’t listen. They turned his “keep it small” request into a blowout, like they always do, inviting anyone and everyone. Not that he could stay mad—he never really does.

When you spot the man of the hour, the corner of your lips lift instinctively and your feet seem to move on their own accord, pulling you toward him.

He’s by the bonfire, the glow of the flames painting his chiseled features in shades of gold and shadow. He stands with his hip jutting out, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, sharing it lazily with two girls you barely recognize.

They hang on to his every little move, trying to soak up whatever attention he might spare. It’s a scene you’ve witnessed too many times, and you really can’t blame them.

You’ve been in their shoes (still are, truth be told), waiting for even a flicker of his focus to land on you, and you know all too well where that desperation led.

To his bed, on his tongue, his cock—you shiver at the memory, your nipples pulling taut.

He’s the kind of man who doesn’t have to try to make hearts ache; it’s just who he is.

A walking daydream wrapped in leather and indifference, with that devil-may-care grin that promises trouble and delivers every time.

You roll your eyes and huff sassily, detouring toward one of the coolers instead. You grab a drink, making polite small talk with a couple of acquaintances, though you can’t keep your gaze from wandering back to him.

He’s already looking at you.

It stops you mid-sentence the way his brown eyes are fixed on you, heavy with intention.

The cigarette is at his lips, the faint glow of its cherry pulses when he sucks in then lets out a ribbon of smoke.

He makes it look so damn hot, it’s almost enough to persuade you into picking up the bad habit.

The curly haired beauty next to him is chattering a mile a minute, but it’s clear he isn’t listening.

His focus remains locked on you, sweeping slowly—mischievously—down the length of your body. You can feel it, as sure as a touch, lingering at the deep neckline of your sweater then on the way your jeans hug your curves. It’s shameless, but that’s him, isn’t it?

Your smile tilts into a puckish smirk. Lifting your hand, you wiggle your fingers in a small wave.

It’s like striking a match. His gaze narrows slightly as if he’s trying to decide his next move.

He hands off the cigarette with a casual flick of his wrist and shifts his focus back to the girl beside him. She’s still rambling, her words tumbling over each other in an eager attempt to hold his attention.

He doesn’t bother pretending to care. Instead, he lets out an indulgent chuckle, shaking his head like whatever nonsense just came out of her mouth is equal parts adorable and absurd.

You almost feel bad for her. It’s hard not to fall for that sleazy charm—especially when it’s attached to a man that’s so fucking handsome.

When she swivels to chat with her friend, his eyes immediately find yours again. A cocky expression paints his countenance, one that practically asks: What the hell are you doing all the way over there?

You entertain the idea of making him wait, savoring the power in holding his attention hostage for just a moment longer. But who are you kidding? The magnetic pull he has over you is impossible to resist. It always is.

The small box tucked snugly in the back pocket of your jeans presses against you as you weave through the crowd, sidestepping a few overly tipsy guests and slipping past the fold-out tables scattered across the lawn.

“Hey,” you say, sliding yourself effortlessly between the two girls, not caring about interrupting their conversation. Immediately, their sharp side-eyes practically stab you with twin daggers of irritation.

You don’t flinch. You’re not here for them, anyway.

You only care about the pair of deep brown eyes that make you feel like you’re the only person in the world when he looks at you. “Happy Birthday, Javier.”

A flicker of what looks like smugness and amusement crosses his face as he licks his lips, taking another measured drag.

He’s dressed in a variant of his signature look—a white button-up with a few buttons let loose to show off his neck and the top of his chest, despite the brisk autumn air, and a worn brown leather jacket accentuating his broad shoulders.

However, it’s the ridiculous tiara perched atop his head that catches your eye, and the sight makes you frown ever so slightly when you notice the matching glittery ones on his groupies, like it’s some inside joke you’re not a part of.

For some inexplicable reason—it rubs you the wrong way. You can’t believe you’re slightly jealous of it. How stupid.

“Thank you, fresita.”

Ugh, that infuriating nickname. You’d been charmed by it at first, assuming it was something sweet and impish. It wasn’t until Chucho let it slip that it’s also used to describe a woman that’s spoiled and picky that you realized it wasn’t just affectionate; it was also dig at your finer tastes.

And so what if you are a little high maintenance?

You don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, even though he loves coaxing it out of you. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, letting a soft undercurrent of flirtation lace your voice as you ask, “Mind if I pull you aside? I’d like to give you your gift.”

His interest is evident in the way his brow raises and the girls bristle slightly, their expressions shifting to thinly veiled jealousy once they realize he’s no longer focused on them. You captured him the moment he saw you amidst the crowd.

“We were just finishin’ up,” Javi says casually, dropping the cigarette and crushing it beneath his boot. He flicks a glance at the two disappointed faces, his smirk widening. “Con permiso, chicas. Thanks for the smoke.”

As he steps away from them, you feel a little triumphant thrill surge in your chest. They look deflated, their pouty expressions almost comical as they watch him leave with you, muttering goodbyes under their breaths.

The curly haired woman stares you down, and you try not to let the smug victory of whisking him away be too obvious… though you can’t help but smile condescendingly before fully turning away.

“Some fan club you’ve got,” you tease once the two of you are finally alone, near the entrance of the sunroom that’s a part of the house.

He smirks, leaning against the siding and tilting his head, once more eyeing you down like you’re the finest thing he’s ever seen. “You jealous?”

You scoff, shaking your head in mock disbelief. “Absolutely not.” It’s a little white lie, since you had felt a twinge of that pesky envy, but you don’t want him to know that. He’d either give you shit for it, or on the more extreme end, rethink this arrangement he currently has with you.

And you’d rather not lose it. Not right now, at least. You’re having too much fun letting Javier fuck your brains out on a consistent basis.

Slowly, you close the space between you, your fingers darting up to flick the tacky tiara perched on his head. “Cute.”

Before you can step back, his hands are on you—big and warm as they grip your waist and pull you flush against his chest.

The force of it has you sighing out in satisfaction. There’s something wholly fucking addictive about the way he handles you.

His hands know exactly where to place themselves, his fingers applying the perfect amount of pressure to set the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy.

“No need to be, baby. You know you’re my favorite.” If your friends knew you were hooking up with the town slut, they’d definitely stage an intervention before you could finish your next sentence. Laying out all the reasons why letting Javier Peña into your bed was a one-way ticket to heartbreak city.

They’d call it desperation. They’d call it lowering your standards.

But what they don’t know is that standards start to feel awfully overrated when Javier has you pinned to a mattress, whispering filthy promises in your ear as his hands map every inch of your body. They don’t know what it’s like to have his full attention—his lips trailing worshipful kisses down your skin, his gravelly voice murmuring sweet nothings in Spanish that you don’t fully understand from how he slurs them together but feel all the same.

Being around him is electric, intoxicating, a high you’re not quite ready to give up.

So no, your friends don’t know. And as long as you can keep this thing between you and Javier your little secret, they never will.

“You gonna let me unwrap my gift or what?” His hand slides lower to cup your right cheek with shameless familiarity, giving it a frisky spank that makes you giggle.

This man and his obsession with your ass—it’s borderline ridiculous, and yet, you’re absolutely here for it.

“Later, maybe,” you reply with faux coyness, your finger dragging along his mustache then over to his pouty lips. He purses them, placing a kiss to the tip of your finger, “if you’re not too busy.”

His hold on your backside tightens, voice morphing into something more sultry, raspier, which is your absolute weakness. It makes your thighs rub together. “You know I always make time for you.”

You laugh softly at that. More often than not, you’re the one initiating while he only reaches out when it suits him. It’s not ideal at times, but you don’t get hung up on it.

You’re not about to ruin this by asking more of someone who doesn’t have it in him.

You reach back and pull the small box from your pocket. “Here’s your real gift,” you say, holding it out to him. Your voice softens, but there’s still a playful inflection. “Hope you like it.”

Curiosity fills those dark eyes as he takes the box, eyeing the tacky birthday wrapping paper with a soft smile. The sight of that grin on his face has your eyes morphing into hearts.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know,” you reply with a shrug. “But I saw it at the thrift store and just knew it had to go to you.”

You angle yourself to press a light kiss to the tip of his chin, your lips brushing against the stubble before you nip at it gently with your teeth. “Open it.”

His nimble fingers pull apart the crinkled folds of the wrapping paper to reveal the small box inside. When he opens it, you see his immediate delight, and your heart does a traitorous little flip.

The golden chain bracelet glints under the string lights strung along the roof’s edge, somehow making it look nicer out here than how it had been displayed at the store.

“Damn, this is nice,” he says, genuinely appreciative. The praise sends a faint thrill up your spine, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you watch him lift the bracelet out of the box to inspect it.

You’ve imagined how good the gold would look while his wrist is flexing as he grips your thighs, holding you open for him. Or when he’s feeling you up, rough and greedy, fingers digging into your soft hips as he takes your pussy how he wants.

“Put it on,” he holds his wrist and the bracelet out toward you. His tone carries that easy confidence, like he already knows you’ll obey without question.

Which you do, obviously. You carefully clasp it around his wrist, your fingers brushing his skin as you secure it, and that little brush feels like you’ve just snorted a line of adrenaline with how amped up your body gets.

“Looks good on you,” you admire your handiwork, though the truth is; he’d make anything look good. Even a paper crown. Or, you know, a tacky tiara.

“Gracias, fresita,” he replies smoothly, that familiar nickname rolling off his tongue.

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”

“Nah.”

Before you can come up with a witty retort, he pulls you against him again, One hand at your lower back, the other tucked into the back pocket of your jeans. His lips capture yours in a kiss that’s eager and completely unapologetic.

“Easy there, birthday boy—”

“Can’t help it,” he cuts you off, his voice rough against your lips. “Been waiting for you to show up all night.”

You can’t help but chase after that tasty mouth of his, your tongue licking against his, teeth biting into his lower lip and the slight tickle of his mustache makes you shiver. Then his hips grind against your thigh, his erection prominent, which in turn has heat flaring all over your body.

“Let’s go inside,” he breaks away, tugging you toward the small steps leading into the sunroom.

You weren’t expecting to fuck him so early on in the night but you’re not about to complain about it. Every fiber of your body yearns for this man—but specifically your cunt. She’s obsessed.

The room looks like it’s in the middle of a renovation—a man cave in progress.

One wall boasts an unfinished bar, complete with half-empty bottles and shot glasses scattered across the surface. A brand-new pool table sits in the center of the room, its felt pristine, untouched by drunken games or spilled drinks.

At the far end, a set of leather couches and a recliner face the large television set and entertainment center.

The double doors to the house are shut tight, leaving the room dim and private, save for the warmness of the string lights spilling in through the windows.

You’re caught up taking it all in when Javier sneaks up behind you, pressing hot, greedy kisses against your neck as his hands roam your body.

There’s nothing tentative about his touch—he cups your tits with both hands, squeezing them over your sweater as a deep groan rumbles in his throat. His need for you is palpable, a force that makes your knees weak even as he maneuvers you toward the pool table.

“Here, Javi?” you pant when he sucks at your weak spot under your jaw. “Let’s just go up to your room—”

“No,” he growls, spinning you around to face him, his dark eyes alight with lust. “Want you right here on this table.”

Before you can argue, his lips are on yours again. You let yourself melt into it, your hands reaching up to pluck the ridiculous tiara off his head and tossing it aside with a flick of your wrist.

His hair is soft under your fingers as you card through it, tugging lightly just to feel the way his body reacts, the way his kisses deepen in response.

When his tongue slides into your mouth, you surprise even yourself by wrapping your lips around it, sucking gently. You’re greedy and he loves it.

Javier’s grunt prompts your thighs to clench instinctively around him. His jacket hits the floor as he shrugs it off, lips trailing down your neck. You kick off your boots, his hands lifting you with ease to place you on the sturdy pool table.

Your sweater is gone before you know it. He’s in the middle of working on the button of your jeans, his fingers deft and impatient, when your eyes land on something that makes you freeze.

Or better yet, someone. There’s a figure slumped in one of the recliners at the far end of the room.

Your breath hitches, your body tensing. “Javi, stop.” Your words falter into a moan as his lips find your collarbone, sucking on your skin.

“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, barely pausing as he tugs your pants down your hips. Despite yourself, you lift slightly to help him, even as you frantically nudge your head toward the recliner.

“There’s someone here,” you whisper.

He stops, his head snapping up to follow your gaze. His expression shifts into a frustrated scowl when he sees the figure sprawled in the chair. “Goddamnit,” he mutters, reluctantly pulling away from you and heading over to investigate.

You watch as he approaches, his boots heavy on the hardwood. It’s his cousin Danny, completely passed out, his head lolling to the side and his mouth hanging open. Javier whistles sharply, snapping his fingers in front of his face. Nothing. He gives his shoulder a firm nudge once, twice—still nothing.

“Out cold,” Javier says, his tone both annoyed and amused as he turns back to you. “Took down almost a whole bottle of tequila earlier. He’s not gonna bother us.”

You hesitate, your eyes darting to the unconscious form. The idea of hooking up with someone uninvited in the room feels... complicated… exhilarating, maybe? You’ve never done it before.

But your reluctance evaporates the moment Javier closes the distance between you again, his hands sliding your jeans clean off, leaving you in nothing but your mismatched bra and panties.

He drinks you in, and the rest of the party—including the slumped figure in the corner—melts away under the weight of his attention.

No words are needed, not when he roughly tugs the cups of your bra down, letting your breasts spill free, nor when he dips his head, his stubble grazing your skin as his warm mouth captures one of your nipples.

Your breath catches, back arching your breasts into his warm, wet mouth. His tongue lazily circles and flicks over the hardened bud. Then he sucks harder, pulling a drawn-out moan from you before switching to the other side.

You bite your lip, determined to stifle the sighs of pleasure threatening to break. His knocked out cousin in the corner keeps you cautious, even as your body aches to let go.

Javier notices. Always does. He pulls away with a pop, a thin string of saliva connecting his pouty lips to your nipple. “Nu-uh,” he chides. “Don’t hold back.”

“I’m not trying to wake him up,” you counter, though your voice wavers from how good his mouth felt.

“You won’t,” he replies, almost dismissively, giving you a peck on the lips before he drops to his knees before you. He starts at your calves, leaving slow, deliberate kisses that send sparks dancing along your skin.

The faint scrape of his facial hair adds to the wonderful torment as his mouth works its way up, switching from leg to leg.

When he reaches the inside of your right knee, he kisses it almost sweetly, before dragging his tongue slowly in a hot stripe up to your inner thigh. You can’t stop the small shiver that ripples through you, your hands gripping the edge of the pool table for balance.

Javier finally reaches your pussy and you shudder as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your clothed clit. The heat of his breath and the firm pressure of his lips through the cotton of your panties makes your back arch.

He hooks a finger into the fabric and pulls it to the side, diving in immediately. His tongue parts your folds, curling and slithering against your pearly clit before moving lower.

“Fuck,” you sigh, your hips bucking involuntarily, pressing yourself harder against his mouth.

He groans, enjoying how reactive you are, his fingers digging into the soft meat of your thighs while he holds you firmly in place. His mouth works with a singular focus, his tongue swirling and dipping into your entrance, then sliding back up to flick over your clit.

The feeling of his stupid mustache makes it that much better, scratching at your cunt lusciously.

You can’t help it now—a soft, keening moan slips out of you, echoing faintly in the dimly lit room. Your head lolls around on your shoulders as pleasure coils at the pit of your stomach, the tension winding tighter with each stroke of his tongue.

“That’s it,” he practically purrs. “Let me hear you.”

His lips seal around your clit, sucking gently, and you swear it feels like you’ve been possessed—holding back is impossible. Another moan escapes you, louder this time, your thighs shaking in his grip as he devours you.

Javi pushes you over the edge so effortlessly that a cry of his name spits out of your throat before you can stop it, cutting through the room.

You're grateful this area of the house is directed away from the backyard, where the party celebrating him outside continues on, oblivious of his absence as he indulges in you.

Your orgasm settles like a heavy current, fingers nearly going numb from holding on to the pool table for dear life.

You’re still disoriented and flustered when Javier stands, looming over you, cupping the back of your head and bringing you in to passionately make out.

His mouth is coated in your tangy essence, making you taste yourself as he slips his tongue down your throat.

You whimper, clawing at his chest for more and he pulls away to turn you around, manhandling you onto your stomach on the table.

His hands are firm yet impatient as he grips one of your legs by the back of your knee and hooks it over the edge of the wooden border.

Javi stares down at your sex, partially exposed and glistening for him. Your panties are askew, one swollen pussy lip peeking out while a dark, damp patch spreads over the cotton where his tongue had devoured you moments ago.

“Fuck.” The lewd sight has him hastily undoing his belt and popping the button on his jeans, his dick hard and ready to bury himself inside your sweet cunt.

Propping yourself up on your palms, you glance back at him over your shoulder, a teasing, blissed out smile playing on your lips despite the burning heat between your thighs. “I figured you’d want to savor me. Wait for later…” you coo, rolling your hips and causing your ass to jiggle, feeling giddy at how his eyes zero in on the motion.

“I savor you all the time, baby. Even during these nasty, quick fucks.” Him saying that has you over the fucking moon. “You can’t expect me to wait knowin’ this pussy needs me to fuck her real good.”

The hand adorned with your golden bracelet grabs your supple ass, kneading the flesh before landing a stinging spank that makes you jolt and let out a cry. The sharp sound carries, making your eyes flick nervously toward the recliner where his cousin still lies, unaware of the debauchery happening mere feet away.

Javier seems completely unbothered, casually toying with your panties as though you have all the time in the world. He hooks his finger into the soaked fabric, dragging it back and forth against your sticky folds, smearing your slick across your pussy lips.

Your hips move on their own, chasing the friction, and you bite your lip hard, trapping the needy moan building in your throat.

“Can I come over later?”

His question is so nonchalant it nearly makes you laugh, but the way he teases you has you too far gone to do so. You grind back against his touch, desperate for more, your lips parting in a breathy moan.

“Yes.” The thought of him showing up at your doorstep at three in the morning, bourbon on his lips, just for you to sink to your knees and take him down your throat makes your pussy clench around nothing, crying out for his cock as more of your arousal leaks against your panties. “Whenever.”

He hums in satisfaction, stepping closer and reaching for your jaw, tilting your head to the side roughly and meeting you for a kiss. The fabric of his shirt grazes your bare skin and he tugs your panties to the side again while his mouth continues to hold yours captive.

His cock nudges against your waiting entrance, teasing, the flushed head dragging over the fleshy cleft of your clit in languid taps.

When he finally pushes in, there’s no preamble—just the yummy stretch of him filling you to the fucking brim, shoving a strangled whine out of your mouth as he sets a brutal pace immediately, not giving you even a moment to adjust.

Your palms slip against the velvet of the pool table as you struggle to hold yourself up, but it’s no use. The force of his thrusts sends you collapsing forward onto your chest, scattering the neatly racked pool balls across the table.

They clatter and roll in all directions, but Javier doesn’t slow for a second. His grip on your waist tightens, forcing you to fuck yourself back on his dick.

“Shit,” he growls hoarsely, already breathless as he watches your ass bounce with every stroke. “You’re makin’ a loud fuckin’ mess,” he hisses, though there’s no real malice there—just straight horniness.

In one smooth motion, he grabs both your wrists with one large hand, pinning them to your lower back. He then angles your pelvis so that your clit is grinding against the smooth wooden border of the pool table while your tender nipples rub against the green felt.

The effects of that are immediate, your body feeling like it’s burning from the inside out. “Mmm, fuck yeah, keep doing that,” you moan desperately.

The raunchy sound of your ass clapping against his thighs fills the room, a filthy rhythm accompanied by the feeling of his heavy balls brushing against your cunt.

The noise feels impossibly loud, your whimpers and his grunts reverberating off the walls. Surely, his cousin will wake up—surely, someone will walk in on the shameless display Javier is putting on with your body.

Or maybe not, since Javier keeps fucking you all hot and wanton, especially when he hits your sweet spot and your ribbed, gushy walls hug around his dick like a vice.

Your forehead presses against the table as you chant his name, your vision swimming.

You try to glance toward the recliner where his cousin is passed out, but your eyes can’t focus. Everything’s a blur—two of everything, indistinct shapes swimming in the haze of your arousal.

The only thing you can truly focus on is Javier: the way his cock breaches your most intimate spaces, the heat of his body against yours, the sharp bite of his belt against the backs of your thighs.

You’re soaking him, ruining the hem of his half-buttoned shirt. But you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when he’s splitting you open so perfectly, his tight grip on your wrists keeping you pinned and utterly open for him to take.

Your sore clit continues to rub against the smooth wood of the table, now sticky from how shamelessly you’ve been humping against it while chasing your pleasure.

Between the stimulation on your clit, the rough scrape of the felt against your sensitive nipples, and the relentless pounding of his shaft brushing your g-spot—it’s all too much.

Your body trembles, a loud cry ripping from your throat as your orgasm slams into you.

"Javi!" you spasm in his hold, nails digging into your palms as your wrists remain trapped beneath his firm grip. shoulders burning from his rough hold.

Your pussy clamps hard around him, wet and creamy as you come, soaking his cock and leaving no doubt about how thoroughly he fucked you.

Javier curses through gritted teeth, switching between Spanish and English as he ruts into you, his rhythm stuttering. “Fuck, fresita, you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight—just like that.”

He doesn’t falter, fucking you even as your orgasm settles over you like a heavy current.

He hauls you upright, pulling your back flush against his chest, his grip on your wrists unrelenting as he traps them between your bodies.

Both of his arms wrap tightly around your trembling frame, one hand sliding up to grab your tit, kneading it roughly while the other sprawls against your stomach and waist to hold you steady as he fucks up into you.

His mouth is at your ear now, his breath ragged. “Gonna bust inside this pretty pussy baby and you’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”

You nod weakly, biting down on your lip as your eyes flutter shut. “So fuckin’ willing to take my cum like a real slut,” the degrading name makes your clit twitch because he’s right—you are a real slut. Only for him. Always hungry and ready to please, to do anything to satisfy him and he knows it.

“You’re so goddamn perfect—fuck.” His hips jerk a few times before he groans deeply, his cock pulsing as he finishes deep inside you, his hold on your body tightening to the point where you wince but it hurts so good.

“What the fuck?”

The sharp voice cuts through the haze, yanking you back to reality. Your eyes snap open, and panic floods your system as you instinctively try to shield your almost-naked body.

Across the room, Danny sits up in the recliner, his hair a mess and his bleary eyes squinting in confusion. He looks like he’s been rudely yanked out of a drunken slumber, and unfortunately, it’s your fault.

Javier, of course, remains maddeningly calm. “Relax,” his voice still thick with that post-climax rasp as he mumbles in your ear.

Meanwhile, your body is burning—part embarrassment, part leftover heat from the sinful things Javier just did to you on this pool table.

You try to wriggle out of his grip, but his arms are like iron bands, keeping you firmly in place.

Danny rubs at his eyes, blinking hard as if trying to process what’s in front of him. His head tilts slightly, and for one horrifying second, you think he’s piecing it all together. But instead, he suddenly leans over the side of the recliner and starts retching, the sound loud and wet as he empties his stomach onto the carpet.

The sharp, acidic stench of vomit hits the air, mixing unpleasantly with the heady scent of sweat and sex. It’s enough to finally get Javier to loosen his hold.

He pulls out of you with a grunt, leaving you aching and exposed, and you both watch as his release starts to spill out of you, trickling over your swollen folds and dripping onto the table with obscene little plops.

But there’s no time to dwell on the mess. You scramble to grab your clothes, your movements frantic and clumsy as you yank your jeans up your legs and shove your arms into your sweater.

Javier’s doing the same, though far less hurried, like he’s still amused by the whole situation.

When you finally look up at him, his dark eyes are sparkling with mischief, and he throws you a roguish grin that almost makes you laugh despite yourself.

Danny, meanwhile, is still groaning and gagging, his face pale as a sheet. You feel a tiny pang of guilt, but before you can even think about offering help, Javier grabs your hand and tugs you toward the door.

“Aren’t you going to help him?” you whisper, trying to keep your voice low.

“Fuck no,” Javier replies without missing a beat. “Not my fault he couldn’t handle his liquor.”

He presses a kiss to the back of your hand, his lips warm and soft against your skin, and you can’t help but follow him.

You glance back over your shoulder as you’re being pulled toward the backyard, unable to stop yourself from throwing out a half-hearted, “Sorry!”

He doesn’t respond—he’s too busy dry heaving—but you and Javier are already sneaking out, stifling your laughter as the sounds of the party grow louder around you.

The music thrums through the air, its infectious rhythm pulling you in as your dance partner tightens his grip on your waist. His hands are firm, guiding you with confidence, but the musky cologne mixed with the sour tang of sweat is enough to make your nose crinkle if you focus too hard on it.

Still, you’re here out of spite, letting the sway of your hips speak louder than words as your body molds to his. The banda song carries you both across the makeshift dance floor, your movements fluid and natural as though the music itself has taken over.

Javier is just a few paces away, entangled with the curly-haired girl from earlier. His hands rest on her lower back, his body moving with ease.

There’s a playful challenge in both of your eyes when your gazes finally meet, knowing how this little game of yours will end.

Neither of you looks away, both determined to outdo the other, even in this small, ridiculous way.

Your dance partner spins you abruptly, breaking the moment. The move is smooth, you’ll give him that, and you find yourself face-to-face with him once again.

He’s not bad looking, honestly—sharp jawline, nice green eyes—but the cologne is killing the vibe, and his wandering hands are starting to push it.

Thankfully, the song winds to a close just as his fingers inch a little too far down your back. The music shifts, a different tune kicking in, and you step back, offering a polite smile as he thanks you for the dance.

“Got a number I can save?” he asks, hopeful and slightly cocky.

You grin, a little too sweetly, and rattle off your number without hesitation. You’ve got no intention of responding if he uses it, but you can’t resist the temptation to stir the pot. As he finally walks away, you feel it—a scorching stare burning into your back.

You don’t even have to look to know who it’s coming from.

“Baila conmigo.”

The familiar rasp of Javier’s voice cuts through the noise as he steps into your space. He takes a swig of his beer, his leather jacket gone, leaving him in just the white button-up that hugs his chest a little too well.

You cock a brow, crossing your arms. “What happened to your dance partner?”

“Sent her away,” he replies easily, his smirk infuriatingly smug. “Poor girl couldn’t catch the rhythm.”

You let out an amused huff, rolling your eyes. Of course, he’d say that. Before you can think better of it, you take his hand, allowing him to lead you toward la pista.

The moment you’re there, he pulls you flush against him, one large hand settling at your lower back while the other still clutches his beer. You fall into the simple two-step with ease, your bodies moving in perfect sync to the music.

His thigh slots between yours, the friction sparking something electric, and you can’t help but press closer, your breaths mingling in the intimate space between you.

“Reminds me of that night at the club,” his lips brush at your ear. It’s a miracle you can still hear him over the loud music. “When you finally let me get between those pretty legs.”

The heat in his words, combined with the faint scent of his cologne and the alcohol on his breath, floods your senses. He smells and feels like everything your last dance partner wasn’t.

Whistles and cheers ripple through the crowd as you and Javi throw yourselves into the rhythm of the song, your bodies moving like two parts of the same melody.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a good dancer the first time you shared a dance—not until that night at the club.

And just like his dancing, the way he fucked you afterward had blown every expectation out of the water.

The song comes to an end, leaving you both flushed and slightly winded, sweat clinging to your skin despite the cool night air. The cheers die down as a new track begins, and Javi’s lips quirk into a lopsided grin.

“C’mon, give me another one,” he urges, his voice still rich and sensual despite the exertion.

You laugh, shaking your head as you step back, hands on your hips. You hadn’t planned to stay this long, and now your body is screaming for mercy. “Raincheck, handsome. I gotta head home.”

Javi’s grin falters slightly, but it doesn’t fade completely as your hand drifts down his chest, fingers savoring the firmness of his body.

His broad shoulders and toned frame are just so enchanting, and you can’t resist indulging one last time before grabbing his beer. You take a long, slow sip, your eyes flicking up to meet his as you drain the bottle and set it aside on one of the plastic fold-out tables.

“Not gonna stick around for the cake?” he asks, that boyish charm in his tone as he steps closer.

You flash him a flirty smile. “Save me a piece.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but the rowdy chaos of his friends and cousins cuts him off. They swarm him, loud and eager, tugging at his shoulders and shouting for him to take another shot.

He laughs, but his gaze finds yours, his warm brown eyes locking on to you one last time.

“Enjoy, Javi,” you tell him with a wink. “You know where to find me.”

That familiar smirk is at his lips as he’s pulled toward the makeshift bar. You watch him for a moment before turning to make your departure.

You’re cutting across the lawn when you hear a voice behind you.

“Need a ride home?”

It’s the guy you danced with earlier, his cologne still potent even in the open air. His gentlemanliness would’ve been charming if it weren’t for the obvious expectation in his tone.

You decline politely, offering a quick smile before brushing past him and unlocking your car.

What you don’t realize is that Javi sees the entire exchange from afar. He’d caught the tail end of the guy trailing after you, his gaze narrowing as he watched you disappear into the sea of parked cars.

A flicker of irritation tugged at his expression, but he stayed rooted to his spot, letting his friends push another shot into his hand.

Instead of following, he threw himself into his own celebration, his laugh loud and boisterous as if he hadn’t seen a damn thing. But he couldn’t stop thinking about you leaving with that guy, and the glint in his eyes that had been so bright when you were there dulled just slightly.

Still, he let it go, for now.

He knew exactly where to find you, after all.

“Oh my god,” you mewl, your back arching against the cold tile of your kitchen floor. Javier thrusts into you with a raw, animalistic need, his cock driving so deep inside you that it feels like he’s carving himself into your very being.

The absurdity of the situation is a bit funny—you’re still fully clothed, minus your sleeping shorts having been thrown haphazardly across the room, a stark contrast to earlier when you’d been bare and spread for him on that damn pool table.

Just as you predicted, he showed up at your door in the dead of night, his silhouette illuminated by the dim porch light. You’d barely made it to the door before his desperate, insistent knocking threatened to wake the entire block.

It felt like he might break it down if you didn’t open it fast enough. Whoever dropped him off didn’t even wait to see if you’d answer.

No words were exchanged when you finally let him in. His brown eyes, dark and searing, did all the talking.

He’d cupped your face with one rough hand, the other holding a plate with aluminum foil covering it, precariously balancing it in his palm as he kissed you with an appetite that left you breathless.

You let him back you into the kitchen, setting the plate on the counter, his body crowding yours until there was nowhere left to go.

And now, here you are, legs spread wide, the weight of him pressing you down into the tiles, his jacket still on, smelling like beer and bourbon as he ruts himself against you.

“Givin’ your number out, huh?” he growls against your lips, his words dripping with bitterness. His hand snakes up to wrap around your neck, firm but not harsh, forcing your hazy eyes to meet his. You feel the subtle coolness of the bracelet against your skin and that only makes it better. “That’s all it takes, fresita? One fuckin’ dance?”

Each word is punctuated by a sharp, punishing thrust that has you gasping for air.

Your hands scramble at the back of his jacket, trying to find some sort of anchor while his dick fucks into you over and over, your slick cunt clamping helplessly around him.

If your brain wasn’t fogged with pleasure, you’d call him out on his jealousy, tease him for letting something so trivial get under his skin. At least you were better about hiding it.

But god, it’s too fucking hot—seeing him like this, so undone, so unhinged, all because of you.

Javier, the man who always carries himself with that cool, confident swagger, who never seems to let anything faze him, is now losing his composure right here on your kitchen floor.

And all it took was watching some other guy’s attention on you to make him snap. If anyone is picky and spoiled here—it’s him.

“Answer me,” he demands, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to leave you lightheaded, his thrusts never faltering. His free hand grabs at your thigh, spreading you even wider for him, the angle forcing you to experience every inch of him.

“I—it was nothing,” you manage to cry, though your words are almost incoherent as he’s driving into you. “Javi, I—”

“You what?” he interrupts with a curt laugh, his teeth grazing the underside of your jaw before he bites down gently, making you squirm beneath him. “You think I’m gonna let you walk around, lettin’ some asshole think he’s got a chance with you?”

The thought alone seems to fuel him further, his movements growing rougher and you swear you’re on the edge of unraveling.

And as he watches the way your body responds to him—your nails digging into his back, your moans turning into screams—he knows he’s making his point loud and clear.

Javi’s grip around your throat tightens, cutting off your breath just enough to stimulate you. The pressure makes you feel somehow, impossibly, even more turned on.

“He can’t fuck you like I can,” he grinds against you, his coarse and damp pubic hairs bristling against your sensitive clit, the friction of it almost too much. “No one can.” His face hovers so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your mouth falls open on instinct, tiny, wheezy moans spilling out as his nose brushes against yours.

Javier’s dark eyes feel like they’re boring straight into your soul, gleaming with hunger as he watches your every twitch, every little surrender. He leans in and kisses you all demanding and vehement.

His lips claim yours like he’s trying to eat you whole, his tongue slipping inside to taste every gasp you give him.

“Listen to that,” he murmurs mockingly as he pulls back just enough to let his gaze drop between your bodies, watching your pussy swallow his cock. “Just listen to how wet you are, baby. Think he could ever make you sound like this?”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment—and arousal—as the obscene, sloppy sounds of his length plunging into you fill the air, amplified by his words. The drive of his hips is merciless, each stroke drawing you closer with dizzying precision.

Your nails dig into his forearms, bending your body beneath him as your vision starts to be blotched with white spots.

You can feel it, the winding of your orgasm at your core pulling taut, about to burst. When it finally does, your pussy flutters and squeezes as waves of smoldering intensity crash over you.

“Puta madre,” he snarls, his head falling back from how good it feels to have you come around him.

Pulling out, Javier pins you down with his weight to keep you from squirming away. His cock, flushed, drooling, and shiny with your juices, hovers inches from your face as you lay flat on the floor.

Your swollen lips part instinctively, the scent of your own headiness making your mouth water.

“Tongue out, baby,” he commands, his voice rough but coaxing.

You obey, sticking your tongue out lazily, your half-lidded eyes locked onto his. The sight of you like this—wrecked, pliant, and waiting for him—is enough to undo him completely. His hand pumps his cock, the golden accessory on his wrist jolting with each move.

With a low, rasping groan, he spills over you, thick, hot ropes of cum splattering across your face and tongue.

You moan softly, savoring the warmth, licking your lips and swallowing whatever lands in your mouth. The taste of him leaves your tongue and throat buzzing, and you revel in the messy intimacy of it.

He uses his fingers to wipe the remnants of his release from your cheeks, then pushes them into your mouth without hesitation.

“Suck,” he orders, and you comply, wrapping your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue over them with eager enthusiasm. You get carried away, your tongue flicking and sucking greedily, and he chuckles darkly.

“Jealousy looks good on you,” you can’t help but tease, your voice carrying amusement as you both come down from the dazed fucking.

Javier sways a little, his inebriation finally catching up to him. He stumbles, but he steadies himself smoothly, like the world itself wouldn’t dare let him fall.

He wipes a hand down his face before meeting your gaze, still kneeling on the floor. “Not a fan of people playin’ with what’s mine,” he says, the statement edged with that possessiveness he tries to pretend isn’t there.

Usually, a line like that would have you rolling your eyes and telling the guy to take his ego down a notch. But with Javier? You don’t mind. At all. Something about the way he says it—like it’s a fact, not an opinion—makes your stomach flip in the worst (or best) way possible.

“Yours?” you challenge, sitting up on your forearms and arching a brow at him. “I thought this was casual.”

“It is,” he says without missing a beat, bringing his fingers up to caress the side of your face, more calm and sure, like he’s completely unaware of how contradictory his behavior is.

You narrow your eyes slightly, refusing to let him off the hook that easily despite melting under his touch. “Casual hookups don’t go into a frenzy after watching the other dance and flirt with someone else.”

He doesn’t even flinch at your words, doesn’t even bother to defend himself. Instead, he smirks—because of course he does—and stretches his arms over his head like the entire conversation is nothing but a minor inconvenience to him.

He straightens up then stands, extending a hand to you, his palm open and inviting, the gold band of the bracelet glinting in the low light.

You let him pull you up and let out a sound of exertion, your muscles still tense from rolling around on the hard floor with him.

“Dance, flirt with whoever you want. When I want you, I’m gonna have you.”

That’s possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. “That so?” You try to sound unimpressed, but your voice betrays you, just the tiniest bit giddy.

“That’s so,” he concedes vaingloriously. “Don’t forget who makes you feel this satisfied.”

As if I could ever. “Cocky bastard,” you mutter, but the words lack any real bite.

He leans in, kissing you gently, then his voice drops into that deep, velvety murmur that makes your pussy tingle. “Yet you keep coming back.”

You don’t respond because, let’s face it, he’s not wrong. Especially not when he pairs those words with an affectionate kiss.

Instead, you finally roll your eyes, the most predictable move in your arsenal, and step around him to grab your discarded sleeping shorts.

Sliding them back on, you make your way to the counter, where the lonely styrofoam plate of half-smashed birthday cake waits for attention. Without a word, you pull it closer, grab a fork, and dig in.

Javier watches you with a grin still plastered across his face, leaning his hip against the counter. “Didn’t even offer the birthday boy the first bite, huh? Real cold.”

You stab a piece exaggeratedly, lifting it to your mouth, and chewing slowly, giving him a look that says cry about it.

But when you see the faint pout pulling at his lips—a deliberate act, no doubt—you sigh, scoop up another forkful, and hold it out. “Fine. Even though technically it’s not your birthday anymore.”

He leans in, not breaking the eye contact, and takes the bite straight from the fork, his lips brushing the tines with an unnecessary amount of flair.

You swear he’s showing off, but you don’t call him out on it, not when he groans softly in appreciation and you can’t help but admire him like this, playful and flirty in your kitchen.

“Feliz cumpleaños, Javi,” you say after a moment, softer now.

He swallows, his smirk shifting into something a little more genuine as he meets your gaze. “Gracias, fresita.”

For a moment, the air between you shifts—gentler, almost intimate. Then he reaches for the fork still in your hand and steals another bite, flashing you a look that drags you right back to reality.

i have a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

@almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiamore . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @persephone-girl . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @almostfoxglove . @thundermartini . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @marisemonteiroo . @picketniffler . @getitoutofmymindwrites . @penascigarette . @bunniboo0015 . @kirsteng42 . @ivuravix . @joelmillerisapunk . @theestorm . @pasc4lfuzz .

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howling-medic · 1 day ago

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Let me just hop up on my soapbox really quick.

Kudos and comments keep people on ao3 writing.

Likes and reblogs keep your tumblr authors writing.

You guys, it’s so fucking important to engage with the fanfics you read.

Old, new, and anywhere in between.

I have never known an author who hasn’t agonized over whether people will like what they write as much as we say we “write for ourselves.”

I keep a literal folder of screenshots of the comments on my fics to read on my worst days.

There’s no requirement to engage in any way, of course. Nobody will ever know if you don’t, but we, as a community, don’t pay for fanfics. Authors pour their souls into these works - that are sometimes the length of god damned novels.

If you enjoyed what you read, take a second to say so. Who knows, you may wind up with your comment being saved for a dark day.

This week, I read a fic that was around 20 years old, which had originally been posted on the author's personal website and which she added to AO3 a few years ago. She listed her email address with the fic, so after I finished reading, I sent her an email saying how much I enjoyed the story, how much I appreciated the work and effort she obviously put into it, and thanked her for uploading it to AO3. She responded the next day and thanked me for my message, then said she had a few more stories in the same series that she hadn't gotten around to uploading. I checked this morning--she added a 35,000 word novella and thanked me in the summary.

👏 comment 👏 on 👏 old 👏 fics 👏

#I’ll hop off my soapbox now #medic rambles #fanfiction #ao3 #fanfics

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sc0tters · 2 days ago

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A Helping Hand | Jack Hughes & Trevor Zegras

summary: when the boys learn that you've never finished, it's only right that they change that for you.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, threesome, oral (f & m receiving!), unprotected sex, fingering, swearing, mentions of drinking.

word count: 7.02k

authors note: is it really a trevor and jack threesome from me, without @sweetestdesire's help? no, no it is not... all jokes aside though this may be the dirtiest piece that I have ever written? like i embraced my inner slut, whore and everything inbetween while writing this so I do hope that you enjoy it! I know I did so we may end up with the first series of the year with this one!

Nobody truly remembered how you all got there.

Sat around the camp fire with a blanket thrown over your legs and a beer in your hand.

It was these little moments at the lake house that you adored so much. Luke was in the chair next to you, allowing you to send him the occasional whisper after the boys did something stupid.

Tonight was one of those nights as Cole managed to convince the group to play never have I ever, after Quinn’s suggestion of truth or dare was quickly shot down by Jack reminder of how he had to go skinny dipping in the lake. When the boys stole his clothes and locked him outside, it was the first and last time truth or dare made an appearance at the lake house.

You sighed thinking to yourself of a question“never have I ever done the walk of shame.” It was a good one to get most of the guys to drop a finger as Luke had told you about many of their escapades throughout their careers.

A while left Trevor’s lips “that one isn’t fair!” He grumbled dropping another finger leaving him with only two up.

Alex looked at the group of girls that had joined you guys as he had found one he wanted to make a move on “never have I ever faked an orgasm.” The boy swore he was going to do a dance of happiness when he saw the blonde one he had been talking to, keep her finger up whilst the first around her thought about their answers.

Your finger went down hoping that someone else would have a much more interesting story to share than you “are you seriously telling me that your little football player boyfriend was shit in bed?” Trevor asked as he let out a laugh seeing your cheeks turn a shade of red.

Jack turned to you, matching his friend’s curious expression “who is to say it was even with him?” It was something he had never even wondered about before, but now everyone’s eyes were on you as most of the people around that fire knew of your entire love life “she does not need to answer if she doesn’t want to.” Quinn sent you a friendly smile, Luke nodded in agreement with this being something that he didn’t even know about.

You let out a sigh of relief “yeah why don’t we move on?” There was a pleading sense in your voice that made everyone accept your request.

Well almost everyone, as the night went on and people went home or to bed. You were left with Trevor, Jack and Luke “you want another beer?” Luke asked as he got up with his empty beer bottle “please.” You nodded, the older two boys giving the same response.

This was the first opportunity that they got to truthfully ask the question that plagued their minds all night “so was it Jake?” Trevor blurted out as he turned his attention to you “what about the theatre kid before him?” Jack truthfully never liked that one, thankfully he only lasted one summer.

You toyed with your bracelet “if I tell you do you promise to keep it to yourselves?” If it got out you knew half of the people there would never look at you the same.

Hell you weren’t even sure if Trevor and Jack would see you the same way again “we will not tell a soul.” They both nodded at the same time, practically sat on the edges of their seats.

You let out a sigh, rubbing your lips together “it was all of them.” Those words made them freeze “you faked it with every single guy you’ve been with?” Jack let out a shocked laugh when you nodded.

Trevor felt confused “I didn’t realise you were with such shit guys.” Some of the guys had notable reputations too “it wasn’t their faults-” you tried to give them some grace within the situation.

But Jack was having none of it “if you have to fake it then it is on him.” Of course that’s what he’d say, the man prided himself on how good he was in bed after all. You had been privy to hearing the mutters through the wall when you stayed over to see Luke.

The Ducks player nodded in agreement “we won’t tell them if you think they were shit.” He added wanting so desperately to hear more of this “it’s me okay!” Your words suddenly made them both go quiet.

Their eyes went wide “I can’t cum so when I have sex I have to fake it.” Your voice was quieter as you didn’t know where Luke was “and before you ask yes I know my body is clearly broken-” you were cut off by the sound of the sliding door opening from the house.

Luke walked out with the four beers in his hands “what is broken?” The three of you looked like kids caught with your hands in the cookie jar in that very moment “oh just the door of my closet in the apartment.” You quickly recovered, it wasn’t a lie. In fact, it was actually something you needed to fix.

He stared at you for a moment before he nodded “wait until I visit and I can help you.” Luke offered making you nod “sounds like a plan.” You sent him a smile, ignoring the conversation that you had just had with the boys.

It seemed that even if you were able to sleep soundly amongst all of Luke’s snoring, Jack and Trevor were plagued with thoughts. Neither one could fall asleep as they sat there thinking about what you had said.

How was it that a girl like you could have a problem that seemed so unbreakable?

“Just so we’re both on the same page, she clearly has a shit taste in guys right?” Trevor blurted out as he stared at the ceiling “I mean it has to be that right?” He added not even sure if Jack was listening.

Jack let out a harsh sigh “but how is she going got accept that?” He rolled over knowing that he shared the same thoughts “well I mean there is one way we could do it.” Trevor trailed off figuring, that it was the should have been obvious.

The Hughes boy let out a laugh “yeah like she’s ever gonna go for that.” He shook his head rolling over to look out the window as he tried to force himself to go to sleep.

A party echoed out in the yard, music blared through the speakers as you made your way upstairs “I’m telling you that she’s not going to go for it.” Jack pinched the bridge of his nose as he chugged back the remainder of his beer “why not?” Trevor whined crossing his arms.

He took in a large amount of air in when he sighed “it’s not like she exactly has any other better options than sticking to never coming.” Those words made you freeze in front of their door. Why were they talking about you, and what was their potential option to help you?

Your cheeks grew warm when your mind began to travel “because you think little miss perfect is gonna fuck the two of us to prove that she just has a shit taste in boys?” Those words made you scoff, it was a response that was a little louder than you had hoped when the boys went quiet “shit.” Jack was quick to open the door.

Both of them were visibly relieved to see it was just you “care to join us?” Jack smirked at the sight of the irritated expression on your face “I am not little Miss Perfect.” You announced sticking your finger in his face.

It was the response he wanted, knowing you had taken the bait “so why don’t you give us a chance then?” Trevor spoke up from behind the younger boy who nodded in agreement.

Your fists clenched into balls “over my dead body.” You were embarrassed as you stormed off in the direction of your room “on a scale of one to ten how badly do you think we fucked up?” Trevor asked hearing the door slam behind you.

Jack sucked at his teeth “I would lean closer to ten.” He nodded thinking about what would happen if Luke were to find out about what was said.

The night had grown dark as you tried to push the boys comments back to the bottom of your mind. It was something that so negatively failed, especially when you began to picture those two.

You had ended up in the bathroom having a shower trying to calm yourself down at first “fuck!” You grumbled letting your fingers thrust into your cunt as the steam stuck to your skin.

Your body had started to shrivel like a prune due to how long you had been in there. Your body was hot as the image of Jack and Trevor lingered on your mind, picturing how they’d kiss you and morph your body in the ways they wanted to use you. You weren’t an idiot, if they were talking about you then it was clearly a competition in their minds.

The peaks of your nipples throbbed as this clearly wasn’t working. Defeat wasn’t something that you accept gracefully, and that’s why you muttered to yourself as you grabbed one of Luke’s shirts and threw it on. Bringing your panties up your legs as you sent Luke one last look, as if you were checking that he was indeed asleep.

You had to try to be quiet as you knew that everyone else was in there room, and with the minimal amounts of chatter that came from Quinn’s room when he spoke to his girlfriend on the phone. It was the timezones that caused him to be awake, but you knew you couldn’t be certain about the other rooms “shit.” You grumbled landing at Trevor and Jacks door to see that there room was empty. Their beds were made with their sandals missing, which only meant that they were downstairs.

It was a lightbulb moment as you practically raced down using the banister as support. Chatter could be heard from outside and that’s where they were “pass me the blunt.” Jack’s voice was soft, muffled by the glass.

Your feet brought you up to the door as you sighed knowing that beyond this moment if you wanted to turn back, you wouldn’t be able to “do my eyes deceive me or is little Miss Perfect stood in front of me?” Trevor teased, using the nickname that Jack had as his eyes drank in the sight of you.

Jack could sense you were nervous “why don’t you come take a hit?” He offered holding the blunt in your direction “don’t know how.” You shook your head, making him smirk.

Of course, weed was something you hadn’t dabbled in, how were they not surprised “I’ll teach ya.” Jack patted his thigh as he spread his legs open for you to sit there.

He held the joint between his ring and pointer fingers when you sat down “just suck the air in but don’t inhale it.” The middle Hughes boy knew that you weren’t exactly some chain smoker so he had to help you.

You nodded as you followed his instructions when he brought the blunt to your lips. Both boys watched on when Jack let his hand travel up the inside of her thigh “there we go.” He cooed until you let out a cough.

It made them softly laugh when you shook your head “never doing that again.” You announced assuming that it would have done something to calm the nerves that ran through your veins.

Jack brought the blunt to his lips “what brought you down here?” He asked looking at his watch, you were usually fast asleep “I couldn’t sleep.” You confessed wanting sigh when you felt the breeze brush past you.

Trevor smiled at your words “anything particular that brought the late shower on?” It was clear that your hair was still wet as it drenched the back of the shirt that you made into a dress “do you think you guys can really fix me?” The words made the two boys freeze.

It wasn’t something that they thought you would come around to “because if I have to spend another fucking unsatisfactory night with fingers between my thighs I’m going to shoot someone.” Jack let out a soft laugh hearing your confession.

He smiled bringing his lips to your cheek to kiss “you gonna be a good girl for us?” He quizzed you, circling his thumb on the inside of your thigh “let us break you?” He added which made you whimper in response.

Trevor almost felt jealous at how far away he was from you “why don’t we move this inside?” His proposal made your head snap in his direction. You seemed to sense where the boy came from “c’mon pretty girl.” Jack patted your thigh signalling to you to get up.

Jack had never been more grateful for the fact that he picked a room downstairs, which you at the moment seemed to so happily run into “c’mere.” Trevor shut the door behind him.

He brought his hands up to cup your cheeks. A grin plastered on his face as your head tilted in his direction so that he could kiss you. There present taste of beer mixed with the weed on his tongue that he dragged over your lower lip. A moan escaped your lips as Jack placed his hands on your hips “didn’t forget about you too.” you confessed, turning your head so that you could kiss him too.

It was rougher when Trevor turned his attention to your neck. His kisses were hungry as he sucked at the skin “n-no marks.” You gasped not wanting to worry about covering more than your bikinis already did.

Jack finally took a step back as he looked at you “why don’t you show us how you normally try to get off?” Jack’s fingers danced over the hem of Luke’s shirt that hung over your knee.

Trevor nodded in agreement “doll, it ain’t like we don’t see those pathetic bikinis you wear.” His words were sharp, making you listen as you took a step back, “like you want us to know what is under ‘em.” He added, allowing his eyes to burn your skin.

The boys watched in awe as your fingers gripped at the ends of the shirt, you took in a deep breath in like it was meant to give you some newfound confidence. The room grew warmed as you pulled the white t-shirt off of your body, letting it fall onto the floor when you now stood in just a white thong. They both stood in silence, causing you to bite at your lip with your confidence immediately wavering.

You were quick to reach down wanting to grab the shirt, assuming that the boys thought this was a mistake or that you weren’t as pretty as they thought you’d be “let us get a good look at ya.” Trevor’s hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you from leaning over any further.

A whistle left his lips when you stood up straight “never thought these tits could ever have looked better than when they were in those bikinis.” His voice was a low growl, letting his fingers cup at your breasts before he gave them a squeeze.

The feeling made a moan get caught in your throat “god imagine what she’s hiding under those panties?” Trevor turned to Jack, not letting his hands move from your boobs that his thumbs began to massage.

Possibilities felt endless “you wanna let us see?” Jack asked making you nod. Trevor kissed at your neck whilst you locked your fingers into the sides of your panties.

The fabric brushed against your skin when Trevor looked down to see your bare mound “don’t know how any of those boyfriends of yours used to let you leave them.” He sighed pressing a kiss against your cheek.

Jack nodded in agreement “if we had a say you’d always be around ready for us.” Those words made you squirm and force your thighs together.

Neither one of them were an idiot, easily sensing the effect they had on you “can you sit on the bed for me sweet girl?” Jack cooed tilting your jaw up to him so that he could kiss you.

That kiss helped settle some of your nerves as you nodded. You sat on the edge of Jacks bed “higher.” Trevor motioned to you to move higher up the bed.

You drove your hips up until you got sat in the middle of his bed “now why don’t you show us how you get off?” After all that was the entire reason that you were there so it made sense they watched you first.

When you lay down on the bed the boys looked at you like you were the sight for sore eyes “c’mon you can show us.” Trevor’s voice oozed this sense of cockiness as he motioned to you to start, brushing those waves of uncertainty aside.

Your heels pushed up to your ass as you spread your lefs open, seeing the boys stare back at you “need to make it wet.” You whimpered feeling Jack kneel into the bed.

He took two of his fingers to spread your folds open, saliva pooled in his mouth before he let his spit fall onto your cunt. It ran down your clit making you squirm “that enough?” Jack asked standing back up straight as you nodded.

You brought your fingers down your stomach and to your slit. The two fingers rubbed over your sensitive nub making the boy’s pants grow tight, your fingers travelled to your cunt as you let them thrust into the hole. The pace you used seemed to be a happy medium using Jack’s spit as some kind of lube that let your fingers create a squelching sound.

Jack felt his throat grow tight “you think that you add another finger?” He could see how your eyes stuck on his now-formed boner “you want some encouragement?” The boy smirked when you nodded.

Neither one hesitated to drop their pants as they pulled their cocks out of their boxers “can’t fit.” You shook your head watching as your mouth watered seeing them palm their members.

Trevor sucked at his teeth “know you can do it.” He encouraged but still that didn’t seem to be enough.

Your free hand went up to cup your boob, going tease your nipple that had been throbbing since it felt the cool air of Jack’s room “need help.” You pleaded, only ever having two fingers in your hole. Even the guys you dated seemed to stop at two, thinking that it was the perfect number.

Jack took his precum over the head of his cock as he rubbed it down his length “why don’t you pick who.” If he had it his way he wouldn’t have even given Trevor a chance to get you first.

When your eyes didn’t leave the Devils players it seemed your answer was written on the walls “no hard feels right?” He smirked tucking his cock back into boxers before he joined you on the bed.

You sat up letting your back rest against his headboard “gonna relax f’me okay?” Jack asked watching you pull your own fingers from your cunt “okay.” You nodded letting your eyes shut when his thumb circled your clit.

In the beginning he opted to start easy, with two fingers it was only slightly bigger than what you could fit in yourself “shit.” You whimpered letting your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

His fingers grazed the spongey area of your cunt “uh huh baby want to hear you.” Jack kissed at your neck wanting to hear you scream “feels good.” You confessed making him nod.

Jack pressed these opened-mouthed kisses on your jaw as he felt you clench around him “you see how hard you make him?” The Hughes boy turned his eyes to Trevor who palmed his cock at an even quicker pace “feel how hard you make me?” Jack brought your hand with his free one over his boxers.

You took the time to feel his hard appendage and with that, Jack slid a third finger into your cunt “fuck!” Your toes curled at the new sensation.

Jack lowered his head to your boob letting his lips wrap around your nipple “right there.” Your head rested against the cool wood behind you.

His fingers felt every inch of you, the way your cunt clenched around his digits that attacked your needy hole “think you should get her clit Z.” Jack’s words made you whimper as you saw the boy’s swollen red tip look desperate for more of your attention “such a pretty girl ain’t she?” Trevor nodded, joining you on the other side of the bed.

But he didn’t take the liberty of tucking himself away as he let his fingers tap on your lower lip “and a good listener too huh?” He teased watching your mouth suck at his fingers.

He was forced to pull them out, not wanting to get too carried away “don’t stop.” There was a feeling you had never felt as Jack curled his fingers in this come hither motion. Trevor added to it letting his fingers drop down between Jacks hand and your clit. His calloused fingers were rough “fuck!” You called out watching Trevor drop his face to your chest.

The boy clicked his tongue “look at this poor fucking tit all ignored.” He sighed not giving you a chance to respond as he too wrapped his lips around your other nipple.

Looking down it was a sight of dreams as each boy sucked at your nipples, working in tandem on your clit and your cunt “I feel funny.” You confessed making them both look at each other.

It was encouragement for them to increase the pace of their fingers as Trevor rubbed your clit faster and Jack increased the pace of his thrusts “I think I’m gonna.” You trailed off with wide eyes as your body began to shake not sure if the pleasure was coming from your nipples, clit or cunt, or even a mixture of all three.

Jack made a muffled grunt against your nipple that sent you over the edge, your face scrunched your face up letting your head jolt. Your cunt clenched around Jacks fingers as your body didn’t stop squirming. The boys didn’t stop there though as they brought you through your orgasm.

The Hughes boy let his fingers begin to slow as your release didn’t seem to grow any sloppier around his digits “shit baby.” Jack let your nipple drop from his mouth with a pop. Your chest heaved as you nodded enough.” You whimpered feeling them retract their fingers away from you as Trevor finally let your other breast go.

Trevor and Jack looked at the sight that you were in front of them “why don’t you taste yourself.” Jack offered his fingers bringing them into your mouth “so you can remember your first orgasm.” He added as Trevor had a devilish look in his eyes.

You went to turned your attention to the other boy whilst still sucking on Jacks fingers “I want a proper taste.” Trevor announced settling in between your legs.

Your body was still sensitive and Jack was able to pick upon that “hey pretty girl.” His voice was soft, his fingers gripped at your jaw turning your head in his direction.

His eyes caught yours “don’t worry about him right now?” Jack reassured you as Trevor kissed at your thigh “you want to still feel so good right?” Trevor asked wrapping his arm around your thigh when he blew against your cunt.

The sensation made you squirm “please.” You nodded switching your gaze between both boys “a guy ever eaten this pretty cunt before?” Trevor ran his finger down your slit when he pressed a kiss against your other thigh.

Jack focused his lips against the hollow of your collarbone “none.” But that wasn’t to say that you never wanted it, the guys you were with just wanted it to be you who went down on them “can’t believe you fucking thought you were the problem.” Jack clicked his tongue watching your eyes stick on Trevor.

The boy mindlessly stared at your cunt, like he had never seen something so glorious “kiss?” You pleaded looking at Jack who couldn’t help but nod at you.

His fingers gripped at your jaw as he started kissing you slowly at first. Trevor felt his cock throb watching the scene unfold in front of him. Jacks tongue ended up in your mouth and the Ducks player decided he couldn’t be the only one not having any fun.

Trevor wrapped his other arm around your bare thigh, allowing your feet to settle on his shoulder blades “fucking hell.” His voice barely above a whisper before his head dropped against your cunt.

His mouth latched over your clit first making you moan into Jacks mouth “such a sweet cunt.” Trevor moaned sending shivers up your spine. The boy let his tongue travel to your weeping hole, his nose grazed your clit as he thrusted his tongue in against your walls.

Your head fell back as Jack looked down “be a good girl and look at how good Z his making you feel.” He sucked at your earlobe making you whimper.

Trevor’s eyes locked onto yours, his arms slightly loosened around your legs allowing you to drive your hips close to him “fuck z.” You moaned feeling Jack cup your tits once again “Jacky you’re missing out here.” Trevor confessed placing his thumb on your clit before he went back to fucking you with his tongue.

Your eyes screwed shut as you felt Jack softly laugh against your skin “don’t have to worry because we’ve got plenty more in ya.” He looked at you through his devilishly long lashes “don’t we baby?” Jack asked as he sucked at your jaw.

Silence swallowed you up when pleasure lulled in your ears. Trevor had been paying attention which made him scoff “he asked you a question doll.” The boy cupped his hand as he lay a smack against your cunt.

The movement made you jolt when your eyes burst open “ahh,” you whimpered almost folding your body over “‘m sorry.” You apologised letting your lips form a pout.

Trevor accepted the apology as he continued. He pressed a kiss against your clit “we just want you to be a good girl.” He sighed licking a stripe down your slit.

Your thighs tensed around his head “because we don’t have to punish you then.” Your cunt clenched around his tongue as it lolled back into your hole “just wanna make you feel so good tonight.” Jack confessed going back to kissing your lips as you quickly became like a drug to him.

There was the slightest scent of your perfume that was still on your skin that invaded his nostrils “please.” You nodded practically feeling like a brand new woman as the boys focused on you.

Jack nodded running his fingers over your collarbone “c’mon sweet girl.” Jack cooed as you bit at your lip “you let this house hear you or else we’re gonna stop.” He warned squeezing your cheeks in his hand.

Trevor pulled his tongue from your entrance before he let it lay flat running against your clit “seems like little miss perfect wants that.” Trevor taunted latching his lips around the sensitive nub.

Jack gasped toying with your nipple between his fingers “you want Lukey to see what we are doing to his best friend?” The image made your voice quiver “h-he can’t.” You whimpered shaking your head.

The boy between your thighs smirked “shame to keep this pretty pussy a secret.” Trevor sighed pressing a kiss against your clit “when she’s all soaked for us, it’s better to keep it our think no?” Jack asked pressing a wet kiss against your throat when you arched your back.

The Ducks player let his tongue swirl around your sensitive nub, creating a healthy rhythm that caused your thighs to squeeze against his head “all for you.” You nodded with your voice turning breathy, almost angelic to the duo.

Those words went straight to the boys cocks that they were still so desperate to just let burst out, letting it soak your skin “can’t believe you tried to act like you were too good for us.” Jack pinched at your side making you jolt “I’m sorry.” You cried, your throat feeling raw as your heels pushed against Trevor’s shoulder blades.

Jack smiled raking his fingers through your hair “‘s okay.” He mumbled pecking your lips “all that matters is that you’re here now.” Jack kissed you harder that time when your nails dug into his thigh.

Trevor let his lips go from your clit as you whimpered not aware of how that hurt him more to stop than you could have known “please she’s been wanting to be a dumb little slut for us.” Trevor’s words were rough as he thrusted his fingers into your cunt.

His were longer than Jacks but they weren’t as smooth either “please.” You begged clenching your walls around his digits “please what?” Trevor softly bit that the inside of your thigh.

Your eyes almost rolled back into your head while Jack kissed at your shoulder “make me cum.” You whined wanting nothing more than to feel the high you felt earlier on “how can I say no to that.” Trevor clicked his tongue as he went back to sucking at your clit.

His fingers did this scissoring motion stretching you out around him. The squelching noises echoed against the walls of the room, mixing with the sounds of your moans that slipped through Jacks kisses “such a spoilt girl ain’t ya.” Jack saw the sweat that formed on your stomach.

You nodded whimpering against him “want you to cum really good for him okay?” Those words made your toes curl as the coil tightened in your stomach “can I?” You nodded not knowing it was possible for you to do it again.

Trevor nodded refusing to slow down his thrusts as he grinded his hips into the bed beneath him. Words left your lips in a shaky chant “please fuck please.” You begged squirming as he didn’t relent running his tongue over your clit.

You huffed shaking your head “c’mon sweet girl you can let go.” Jack egged you on kissing your lips, swallowing the moans from your mouth.

Your legs shook when Trevor fingered you through your high, your release coating his fingers when the coil snapped in your stomach “shit, holy shit.” Your chest heaved letting your fingers tug at Trevor’s hair to pull him off of you.

His fingers dropped from your cunt went you kissed him. Your release shone on his chin “fuck.” Trevor moaned feeling your tongue brush against his, your walls clenched around nothing as you knew it was the taste of your pussy on his tongue.

Jack grunted from beside you as you turned back to look at him. There was a smile on your lips “you ready for one more?” He asked pushing your hair out of your face when you nodded.

It made Trevor laugh “of course she is.” He mumbled tugging at the hair on the nape of your neck so that he could kiss you again. You felt as if the wind was knocked out of you with the amount of passion in it.

A moan escaped from your lips “wanna taste you.” Your confession made his cock throb “how can I say no when a little slut asks me so nicely?” He nodded cupping your jaw as he smiled.

Jack gripped at your sides “gonna let me fuck you while he does that?” Those words made you nod.

You weren’t entirely sure how it happened but before you knew it Jack was on the end of the bed with his legs hanging over. You were hovering over his hips and of course Trevor stood over you, taking in the sight that you were through your thick eyelashes “remember when you thought you were too good to entertain us?” Trevor taunted you like those words hadn’t been spoken mere hours ago.

You nodded feeling Jack kiss your shoulder blade “well I think it’s time you give us an apology for being such a fucking brat.” His words were harsh as Jack dragged the head of his cock against your clit “I’m sorry Trevor.” Jacks hand held your hip stopping you from sinking into his cock.

Trevor laughed shaking his head “you gotta do a whole lot better than that.” His fingers brushed through your hair “and that’s gonna start with you getting on his dick okay?” You were eager to please them both.

Jack let out a grunt “condom?” He asked when your head leaned against his shoulder “on the pill.” Your words made him gasp finally letting your cunt sink down on his cock.

The ducks player smirked watching how your jaw went slack “shit this cunt is-wow.” Jack let his teeth gnaw at your shoulder blade.

Neither one of you moved, taking the chance let your walls stretch around his cock. Trevor palmed himself watching how your eyes screwed shut enjoying how the boy felt inside of you “gonna have to try it one day too.” He nodded as you finally started lifting yourself up against Jack “you ready f’me to fuck you huh?” Jack asked, your head bobbed with your one hand resting on his thigh your nails digging into his skin.

Jacks blue orbs burnt into the back of your head “this cunt is so perfect god.” He barked wrapping his one arm around your waist to keep your back flush against his chest “don’t stop.” The Devils player drunk in your whimpers while you squirmed.

He adjusted his legs so that you had spread yours around his. Letting the feelings of pleasure soak over you, not sure how much more of him you could actually take. A grunt came from in front of you, reminding you that it wasn’t just you and Jack in that room.

Trevor’s precum oozed out of his cock and you swore you could see a smirk on his face when your mouth watered “you wanna suck my cock?” He asked watching you nodded.

His breath grew short when you used your tongue to spread his liquid around his length “shit this mouth is-” Trevor cut himself off as you took more of his cock in your mouth.

His fingers messily tugged at your hair forming a loose pony at the back of your head, encouraging you to work his cock between your lips “you want more?” He asked seeing how you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

Jack had settled into a rhythm he liked unintentionally knocking your hand off of him. This cause you to reach out at Trevor’s thighs “fuck.” Both boys spoke through gritted teeth as Trevor’s cock hit your throat causing tears to spill from your eyes when you clenched around Jacks cock.

The ducks player watched how you worked your tongue on the underside of his length “don’t stop pretty girl.” He nodded hearing the squelching of your cunt as Jack fucked you “yeah sweets we wanna use you proper.” Jack cooed gripping at your hip, pinching at the skin.

You moaned around Trevor almost toppling him over “think you like the idea of us using you.” His words were full of desire, fantasies forming in his mind wanting to go through with them in that moment.

Sweat stuck to your skin, turning you into a whimper mess “god you’re such a cock hungry slut.” Trevor muttered tugging at your hair eliciting another moan from your lips

The sensation made his eyes screw shut “fuck I’m gonna cum.” Trevor response was mangled, Jack started chasing his own high that was quickly approaching when he heard that message “you gonna let me make a mess in this pretty little mouth of yours?” He brought his one hand forward from your hair.

His thumb brushed against your cheek “mhm.” Tears streamed down your cheeks while your eyes darted up to his.

Trevor’s movements increased fucking your face as if you were his own hand. He took that moment before he became undone. His hand held you in place so his release hit the back of your throat all at once.

Your throat gagged at the new sensation causing his cock to twitch before he went lax letting go of your hair. You hollowed out your cheeks as you let your lips swallow every last drop of what had been on his skin cleaning him up in the process.

Gasps escaped from your lips causing droplets of his release to drip out of the side of your mouth “don’t go making a mess now.” Trevor clicked his tongue catching it with his thumb before he brought it into your mouth.

Your lips wrapped around his digit swirling your tongue around it like it was his cock all over again “fuck I’m gonna make a mess in this pussy.” Jack announced feeling that he was close.

His pace turned animalistic and if Trevor wasn’t in front of you, you swore you would have fallen over “such a tight cunt.” The boy moaned with his eyes glued to the way your folds swallowed his cock.

Trevor felt himself grow hard again “such a pretty little cock drunk slut ain’t ya?” He asked watching your eyes grow glassy “yeah.” You cried hearing how your thighs slapped against Jack with every thrust of his cock.

He almost felt as if he could feel your guts he was so deep, touch places you didn’t even know were in you “needed you both so bad.” You were surprised you were able to form a coherent sentence “knew you were always gonna be so desperate for us.” Trevor almost laughed watching your head bob as you nodded along.

Your mouth watered seeing how his cock still oozed while his hand ran along the underside of it “you wanna feel this too pretty girl?” It was almost the sweetest thing he had said that night.

It seemed to throw you off as you chewed at your lip sensing you were close “or maybe we should stop until this little slut remembers how to talk.” The threat held no weight as Jack was far too close with your walls squeezing his cock to let you off of him, but that wasn’t something that you considered “please Z.” Your moan sounded like you were a pornstar letting the whimpers of desperation escape from your throat.

Trevor crouched down pumping his cock once more before he let the head sit in your clit “shit doll you like that?” Jack asked feeling you clench around him “so good.” You nodded letting your head fall against his shoulder.

The sight was something Trevor swore should have been in the Louvre. His cock dragged over your clit matching the pace of Jacks thrusts. The Hughes boy was desperate to get you to cum first because he knew that the moment he finish he was a goner.

Trevor begun to kiss at your throat which he now had the perfect spot to do as such “go on.” Trevor mumbled sucking at your sweet skin “make a mess on Jacky boys cock.” Your breathy gasps filled the room as your eyes screwed shut.

Jack grunted from behind you “yeah baby make a mess for me.” Between Jacks cock fucking you senseless, Trevor’s cock against your clit and now both boys marking up your throat you were done.

You shuttered out a cry while your face contorted letting tears fall from your shut eyes as your orgasm ripped through you. Neither boy stopped what they were doing, wanting to guide you through your orgasm “shit shit so good!” Jack sputtered out feeling your cunt clench around him.

His eyes practically rolled back into his head as his cock shot warm sticky ropes of release into your cunt “fucking hell.” Trevor softly laughed against your throat when the younger boy lulled his thrusts before he kissed your shoulder.

Your chest heaved trying to catch your breath you lay against Jack slowly coming back to, before you softly clenched around him remembering that he was still there “you with us baby?” Jack asked brushing your hair out of your face.

You nodded gripping onto Trevor’s arm to help yourself up “damn.” Jack mumbled looking down at where you had been sat. A mix of your release and Jacks oozed out of your cunt and down the inside of your thigh as you used Trevor to support you.

Trevor’s eyes followed Jacks before he let out a soft gasp “you know you could do that?” His hand squeezed at your hip before he set you on the bed next to the devils player.

You shook your head “do what?” You asked growing confused “this broken girl just squirted.” Trevor scooped the release that had fallen before he thrusted his fingers into your cunt once more “we can’t have you forgetting about this now can we?” He asked watching your hand try to wrap around his wrist to stop him.

Jack smirked seeing how you dropped back onto the bed, allowing your face to contort as you felt with a mix of pleasure and overstimulation “silly girl this summer is only just getting started.” The devils player nipped at your ear knowing that you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Because here is to the summer you’ll never forget.

#amber writes fics #jack hughes smut #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagines #trevor zegras x you #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes oneshots #nhl smut #nhl imagine #hockey smut #hockey imagine #threes0me

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dollyyun · 15 hours ago

Text

VIDEO CALL ✧ L.HS

SYNOPSIS ✧ you’ve been missing your boyfriend a little too much, yearning him to return to your arms, but you need him more than ever. seeing how desperately you crave him, he offers a solution that eventually leads to the two of you having video sex.

PAIRING ✧ idol bf!heeseung x fem reader

WARNINGS ✧ soft and sappy in the beginning, loverboy heeseung, reader whines a lot, reader is so fucking needy (i know i am), video call sex, masturbations, fingering, clit stimulation, mild degradation, uses of dildo, orgasms, dirty talks, praise kink, daddy kink, heeseung is so in love, idk what else

WORD COUNT✧ 9.4K

A/N ✧ idk how to write a good video call smut (or a good smut in general) but idc bc i HAD to get this out of my system and i enjoyed writing it since i’ve been going insane in oomf’s dm about this weverse live heeseung specifically. oomf told me how i was really down bad for this heeseung and the way he made me so needy for him plsplspls I NEED HIM SO BAD IT ACHES- anyways, this was supposed to be a drabble but i got carried away. enjoy this light and fun fic :3 or don’t.

The thumping of your heart amplifies as soon as his handsome face appears on your phone screen. His hair looks slightly dishevelled, and he is still adorned in the same sweater he was wearing three hours ago when he was doing a Weverse live. God, he looks so good. But a frown slowly pulls at the corners of your lips as you notice a fleeting somnolence in the weight of his hanging eyelids.

“Hey, baby.” Heeseung greets you affectionately while your heart flutters at the boyish grin on his face, but his raw, husky timbre sends the familiar signals to your throbbing clit that has been yearning for his touch. You squeeze your thighs together, suppressing the arousal that throbs unrelentingly in your bundle of nerves.

“Hi.” You reciprocate shyly with a small smile, your soft voice a mellow to his ears. His eyes darken, narrowing slightly at your bottom lip being tucked in between your teeth, prompting him to stifle a groan while his cock beneath the slacks hardened at the harmless action. Shit, not now. He mentally scolds his own cock. But God, he so badly wants to kiss your lips.

Oblivious to his struggle, you feel the guilt tugging at your heartstrings as you know that he must’ve been asleep before this, considering the timezone he is currently at, whereas it is still early for you to call it a night.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?” You ask, your eyes turning crestfallen. You never want to be a clingy girlfriend, nor do you want to disappoint Heeseung in any way because you are aware of how much he appreciates you for being incredibly understanding of this aspect of his career, but this time, you couldn’t hold back any longer, needing him more than ever despite video calling him just yesterday.

Heeseung chuckles breathily as he runs his fingers through his hair, the sound being enough to make the butterflies swarm in your tummy. “Nah, you didn’t. I wasn’t even sleeping.” His attempt at reassuring you fails when he tries to stifle a yawn.

“You’re a bad liar.” You remark, eyeing him disapprovingly while the guilt is twisting painfully at your heartstrings. Maybe you shouldn’t have disturbed your boyfriend and allowed him to have some time of his own, considering he had to perform for the tour concert for two constructive days.

But little do you know that there is an entirely different reason why he looks a tad weary — he was jerking off to every deliciously sinful thought of the things he wanted to do to you before he took a nap — but you didn’t need to know that. Besides, despite being in a relationship for three years, the two of you have never once crossed the boundaries of being that level of sensual intimacy. Sure, he had sex with you every so often whenever he wasn’t needed at his line of work, but there has always been this unspoken boundary that the two of you never dared to cross for some reason. Maybe it has to do with you being incredibly shy when it comes to being more upfront about such salacious matters.

“Well, I couldn’t just ignore an incoming call from my gorgeous girl.” Heeseung casts you a smirk, knowing that you get all shy whenever he praises you, to which you always cover up with a rather cutieful scowl in his eyes. His features slowly soften as he seems to examine you, his eyes practically sparkling with a familiar adoration. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

You automatically scrunch up your nose, feeling dubious over his ever-flattering compliment. “What are you talking about? I’m only wearing my comfy home clothes.” You say as you look down at your attire. You’re only sporting a hoodie, his hoodie specifically, and elastic waistband shorts that reach way above your thighs.

“I’m not talking about your clothes, baby. It’s your face. God, if only I get to wake up to this view every day.” You swear you are about to combust from his excessive compliments, and it doesn’t help that he is looking at you as though you are his whole universe. “I mean it when I say you look really beautiful. How did I ever get so lucky to have you in my life?”

“You’re being weirdly cheesy, Hee.” You huff, feigning indifference as you try to tame the butterflies swarming in your tummy, and yet you know that your boyfriend loves to shower you with compliments and affections, but this time, something feels different in the way he gazes at you. “Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.” He drawls playfully while adjusting to a different position that looks like he is resting his back against the headboard of the bed, one hand placed at the back of his head. “Just looking at your beautiful face is enough to make me feel drunk, and that’s saying a lot about you. My gorgeous girl.”

The warmth in your cheeks travels down to your neck. “Stop it, Hee.” You shoot him another scowl, a pathetic attempt that fails to tame the flutters all over you.

“Oh, so I can’t compliment my girlfriend now?” He scoffs, his eyebrow raising just slightly before a pout slowly forms on his very kissable lips.

“Don’t pout. It’s not a good look on you at your grown age.” You tease him, breaking the character from your collected facade. You always did like being the one to tease him on rare occasions since he’s the one who does most of the teasing in your relationship.

“I can’t believe my girlfriend insulted me just when I was about to tell her I missed her.” He complains exasperatedly, but you overlook his usual theatrics as his last three words strike a chord deep inside of you. He continues to pout, oblivious to your silence of melancholy. “I’m hurt, sweetheart.”

“You missed me?” You finally ask quietly after a couple beats of silence, your tone sounding as though you are in disbelief that your own boyfriend, the guy who completely adores you, missed you. But this time, it hits differently and deeper that renders you out of breath for a moment.

Any playful mischief or humour dissipates from his countenance while his features soften. “Of course, I did, and I still do.” He reaffirms softly with a small smile unfurling his lips.

“I’ve missed you too.” You tell him after having to swallow the familiar painful lump in your throat, and you hope that he doesn’t notice the palpable tremor in your voice. You clear your throat, now adjusting yourself to get more comfortable on the sofa and curl at the corner with both your knees pressing to your chest. “So, wanna tell me about your day?”

“Nothing much. The boys and I had takeaway dinner in Jungwon’s room after I ended the Weverse live—“ Heeseung continues while you listen attentively; at least you try to because it’s hard to process his words into your brain when all you can think about is how much you miss him. You hum every once in a while to acknowledge him, your eyes focusing on his animated face, but your vision eventually gets blurry with each blink while your throat feels painfully constricted with the bundle of emotions threatening to implode.

“The practices before the actual concert were tough, and it sucks how I needed my girl more than ever, but I’m miles apart from her.” Heeseung speaks out his frustration before realising that he is getting too carried away, but in the relationship, he’s the one doing most of the talking, whereas you would listen to him and gives your input politely whenever appropriate. He notices how unusually quiet you have gone and the way tears are welling in your waterline, alarming him. “Hey, you okay?”

“Mmhm.” You hum with your lips pressed thinly together, but there is a discernible crack in your voice. You muster a smile that feels painful, trying to maintain the facade you put up. “I’m glad that the tour went well in the end.”

“Sweetheart… you’re crying.” He points out gently, his eyes soften, and his lips downturn into a frown, watching as the teetering tears in your waterline finally cascade down your cheeks.

“I’m not.” You insist, using the end of your sleeves to wipe away the tears, a futile effort as they keep coming down like a waterfall. You hear him calling your name, but you are too absorbed by the whirlwind of emotions within you. An accidental sob leaves your lips as you still busily wipe the tears away. “I’m not crying.” You insist weakly, lacking the resolve to remain strong in his eyes.

“What’s wrong? Did you have a hard time at work?” Heeseung asks, fussing like a mother hen as his concern for you amplifies. Throughout the years of your relationship, you rarely ever showed him the vulnerable side of you, so to witness you breaking down hits him in the gut. He can only watch you helplessly on his phone screen as you continue to cry, his heart clenching painfully at the sound of your heartbreaking cries and sobs.

“You gotta let me know what’s wrong, baby. It’s hurting my heart to see you like this. Tell me, please?” He pleads, his fingers on his phone tightening as he feels useless and helpless that he isn’t there by your side to comfort you right now. He decides to wait patiently for you to become coherent again while offering you sweet nothings in a gentle tone.

Finally, you manage to calm yourself down, albeit hiccuping every now and then from going nearly hysterical over your emotions. “Work was fine. Everything’s fine. I just—“ You sniffle as you look away from him, your chest tightening with a familiar emotion. When you muster the courage to look at him again, your eyes turn glossy. “I just missed you. I miss you so much, and I need you.”

Heeseung can feel his own heart breaking at the way you look at him with raw yet intense yearning. “Sweetheart—”

“I know I shouldn’t be like this when I promised that I’d be your most supportive and understanding girlfriend, but it keeps getting harder to be apart from you.” You finally pour out your pent-up emotions, letting him know earnestly without filtering your words. A hiccup leaves your lips, and it takes every ounce of strength in him to hold back an endearing smile as he finds you quite adorable with your slightly puffy eyes and lips. “You know that I’m happy and proud that you’re thriving in your career, but I can’t lie to you anymore when I say it hurts that you’re not here with me. It hurts to be apart from you constantly.” You close your mouth, realising how absurd you are being before looking down, ashamed of how you are acting on your emotions. “I’m being dramatic, aren’t I? I’m sorry, Heeseung.”

“No, sweetheart, don’t ever apologise for speaking out your feelings.” He says sternly, his tone compelling you to look into his eyes, but all you see is how they soften with assurance and reserved affection for you. “We promised each other that we’d be more open and communicate, right?”

You nod your head feebly at his reminder. “It’s just that I don’t want to disappoint you by being a clingy girlfriend who needs you by her side every day, and it’d be unrealistic because you’re a K-pop idol.” You mumble, and tears prick in your eyes again as you feel fear-stricken by your worst nightmare. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

“You could never disappoint me, baby. I don’t care if you want to be clingy with me or need my attention 24/7. You’re my girlfriend. I’d give you anything you want.” His words of assurance do little to allay the worst possible outcome that taunts you in your mind. “Besides, it’s going to take more than that for me to leave you, not that I would, ever.”

But you remain avoidant with your head turned to the side as you hide your face in your arm, eliciting a soft yet patient sigh from him. “Look at me, baby. Let me take a look at your beautiful face, please.” He pleads softly, his tone mellow; you can’t help but be compelled. When your glossy eyes meet his, he gives you a warm smile, a smile that provides comfort over your distressed mind. “You’re okay, sweetheart. We’re okay. I’m not even mad or disappointed.”

This time, you believe him, his assurance putting your frazzled emotions at ease. Seeing how relaxed you are as you lean back against the sofa with your face devoid of any sign of distress, he feels at ease too, knowing that you are no longer in such an intense spiralling of your emotions. “You’re good now?” He asks for confirmation, his tone remaining a soft lull.

“Yeah.” You manage to utter quietly, no longer feeling dubious or embarrassed by the fact that you showed him your raw vulnerability, and instead, you feel closer to him in an unexplainable sense despite him being literally in another country at the moment.

Heeseung seems satisfied by your affirmation. “Let’s focus on you now, yeah? I wanna hear my girl talk about her day.” He says while there is an avid interest in his countenance, rendering you flattered.

You begin to fiddle with the hem of his hoodie subconsciously, hyperaware of his dark, mesmerising eyes being fixated on you in a way that feels intense. “I didn’t do much. Just resting and lazing around since today’s my day off from work.” You tell him, being careful with how you choose your words because he doesn’t need to know the exact truth.

A frown touches his lips. “You didn’t go out? Not even with your friends?” It’s weird because you would usually go out with your friends or do something productive on your off days, not saying that you're unproductive just staying at home. “You must’ve been bored staying at our home all day.”

“No, I wasn’t bored at all.” You counter, and yet you sound weak as the recollection of today plays on your mind while warmth weaves across your every vein. “I was busy with—” You immediately smack your lips shut, nearly revealing the truth to him.

Heeseung is intrigued, really intrigued, because he has never seen you being so meek like you are now. “Busy with?” His question is harmless, a genuine curiosity, but your mind resorts to producing such filth you want him to do with you — the kind of filth you have never done with him, nothing to the usual loving he always did with you.

“Doing stuff.” You mumble, your eyes purposely avoiding his confused ones, probably wondering what part of his question suddenly makes you avoidant, but this time, he can see that you’re flaring with diffidence.

“What kind of stuff?” Heeseung probes, and you know he will remain unrelenting unless you cave into his curiosity. The corner of your lips twitches up when he whines. “Come on. Tell me.”

“The kind of stuff that reminds me of you.” You utter each syllable slowly, but you decide to focus on his prominent Adam’s apple, which is one of your favourite parts of him, and fuck, you can imagine yourself rubbing your clit on it.

For a moment, Heeseung doesn’t exactly comprehend your words, eliciting an annoyed huff from you, because there is no way your dirty-minded boyfriend does not understand the subtle implication. “Since I’ve been busy missing you too much, I played with the stuff that you bought for me.” You elaborate, your tone being carefully measured, and yet you can feel yourself weakening when a familiar suggestiveness shadows his once-softened features.

“Oh, yeah?” His voice a low rasp, igniting the heat flaring in your lower abdomen. The look in his eyes feels like a silent command as you find yourself slowly parting your legs as they hang over the edge of the sofa. “Did my baby have fun with it?”

You hum as you nod your head, his sultry voice making your clit throb. “Yes, but it wasn’t enough.” You say softly, but you can feel your breathing getting heavier.

“Of course, it wasn’t. It could never be compared to the real thing.” Heeseung smirks, his dark eyes scanning you intensely. He can see how needy you actually are behind this front of yours, and he knows that it won’t be too soon when you finally reveal to him. “My poor baby has been missing me too much — too much to the point that she’s craving my cock.”

You can physically feel your clit pulsating at his lewd words, and damn it, he’s right, because instantly, you drop all pretence, revealing what you have been keeping at bay. “Missed you so much, Hee.” You whimper, your cunt clenching at the smirk on his handsome face.

“I know, baby. You’re needy for me too, yeah?” He swallows down a groan, seeing the glossy look on your face. Maybe it’s because he’s feeling horny, but you look practically fuckable. This time, he doesn’t bother controlling his primal urges as his cock becomes a prominent bulge against his sweatpants.

You hum in an agreeing whine, the sound going straight into his cock. “Need you so badly, Seungie.” You mewl as you arch your back off the sofa while your hand travels down to your clothed cunt. “I need you and your cock to stuff me full.”

“Tell me more.” He demands, his jaw tightening with tension as he becomes intensely aroused by the sultry look on your face. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“Things.” You nearly slur in the way you speak as your head spins at the palpable tension that you can feel even through the screen. You stroke your clothed cunt slowly, your fingers itching to remove your garment just to properly touch yourself. “Many things. The filthy kind.”

“You gotta be specific, sweetheart.” He chuckles lowly, his smirking countenance makes it seem like he’s degrading you, and fuck, you feel more turned on than you did before. It’s even better when throughout your sex life with him, he has never once degraded you in any way. “What sort of filth does my naughty girl want me to do to her?”

A needy whine escapes you, getting unbearably turned on as flashes of obscene scenarios appear in your mind while every inch of your skin feels hot. “Want your tongue on my pussy, lick and eat me out messily till I come, do it over and over again, and make me squirt.” You manage to utter such words without feeling any embarrassment, overshadowed by the pure need of your desire for the man beyond your reach. You let your head fall back to the sofa’s back, your eyelids weighing heavy with the lewd imagination playing in your head. “I want you to fuck me hard, fuck me with your cock till I break. Want you to use me as your cocksleeve every day. I need you to ruin me, Hee.”

“Fuck, baby.” Heeseung breathes out harshly, his eyes nearly rolling to the back at such lewd words leaving your once sweet-mouth. Never in his life has he ever heard you talking like that. His eyes flicker down at his very prominent bulge, feeling it painfully hard with incessant need before he directs his focus back on you through the screen. “You wanna be a good girl for me?”

The thought of pleasing him makes you eager, so you nod your head, eliciting a breathy chuckle from him at your enthusiasm. “I want you to grab the dildo I bought for you, and I want you to strip naked for me before you come back.” He instructs firmly, his dark eyes piercing into the screen as he stares at you, sending shivers through your heated body. “And position your phone where I can see every inch of you clearly, alright?”

You nod your head wordlessly in compliance and quickly toss your phone aside on the sofa before proceeding to rush for your room while the sound of your footsteps through the audio of his phone renders him amused at your obvious eagerness.

Meanwhile, Heeseung decides to lower his sweatpants just enough for his cock to spring free, and damn, it looks angrier than it did just earlier. He is incredibly turned on that his cock remains hanging high, the ridges and veins protruding as a result of being neglected. He clenches his fist, restraining himself from touching his cock, not until you arrive. He closes his eyes as he leans his head back against the headboard, feeling quite surreal that this will be his first video call sex with you ever.

“Heeseung?” Your velvety voice prompts him to snap his eyes open before grabbing his phone at the side that he nearly fumbles with from the unbridled excitement. When he looks at his phone screen, he nearly drops it while his heart pumps harder at the lewd sight of your nudity fitting in the frame as you sit politely on the sofa with the pink dildo in your grasp.

Heeseung marvels at your nudity, his eyes hungrily feasting on every inch of your body, and he swears he can feel blood pumping in his cock as it hardens tighter than it did before. He smirks at the lingering diffidence in your countenance, being aware of his effect on you, even just by his mere gaze. He fucking loves it whenever you become shy all because of him.

“You look so damn beautiful, baby.” He is in complete awe, as though this is the first time you bare your nudity to him. Your clit throbs faintly as you observe the raw hunger in his eyes, his eyes roaming around your tits. You flush warmly at the sound of his low groan through the audio as he sees your perky nipples that look delicious enough to be devoured by his untamed mouth. “We’re going to do something new this time. Are you okay with it?”

“Yes.” You utter softly, earning you a small smile from him. You had placed your phone on the coffee table in front of you with your abandoned ceramic mug supporting your phone horizontally.

“I want you to put aside your dildo first.” He instructs, and you do so without tearing your gaze off his face. You can practically feel her fluttering in excitement as you observe his eyes trailing down to your closed legs. “Now show me your pretty pussy, baby.”

For a moment, you hesitate as it dawns on you that this is the first time you and your boyfriend will be engaged in this type of foreplay. But the encouragement he offers you with a soft, subtle head nod dispels any lingering doubts and embarrassment from you. You allow every muscle in your body to relax before slowly spreading your legs open, shoving down a needy whine in the back of your throat as the action causes your clit to throb incessantly.

You see the way his nose flares slightly just by the mere sight of your shaved mount, and with a daring spirit, you use your fingers to spread it open, revealing your already glistening folds to him. You feel grateful for how easily you can get wet just by the thought of your hot boyfriend.

“There she is. Fuck, she looks so soaked.” He groans as his cock visibly twitches at the explicit view of your pussy. He quickly recovers, wanting to give your needy pussy some attention as he leans his body slightly forward with interest. A grin smears across his lips, his eyes being solely fixated on your pussy. “Hi, princess. You’ve been missing me too much, haven’t you?”

“Heeseung.” Your humourless tone silently indicates your bafflement upon witnessing your boyfriend speaking and cooing to your pussy as though it is a person, and you can practically feel her preening under his overflowing affection. Yet, you can’t deny that there is something hot about this.

“Shhh. I’m still talking to her, baby.” Heeseung playfully admonishes you without meeting your gaze. He continues to entertain exposed pussy, adoration and lust blending in his eyes. “The dildo did not satisfy you enough, did it? You need my cock to keep you warm and full, nice and deep inside of you that you won’t even wanna let go of me.”

You can’t help but instinctively clench at his words. “Look at you, princess. I can see you clenching. It’s too bad that you are not stuffed with my cock right now.” He remarks in amazement, and yet the mockery belies his adoration is not lost on you as you find it undeniably hot. “You love it when I talk to you like this, hmm? Should I talk to my pretty princess like this once I get back?”

“Hee, please.” You plead, having had enough of his teasing, and you must be insane to even feel bits of jealousy that his attention is on your pussy instead of you, as though your pussy is not a part of you.

Heeseung chuckles softly as he is very much amused by your pouty attitude before deciding to cease his teasing, albeit he was very much serious when he was talking to your pussy. “Touch your clit for me, baby.” He finally directs his words to you, and you comply, the padding of your index and middle fingers now touching your clit that throbs under your own touch. “Now rub it nice and slow. That’s it.”

Your fingers continue to rub your button in a circular motion, nice and slow, just as he said. It does not take you a minute when you begin to feel the familiar sensation in your aroused little button as you continue to stimulate it.

Heeseung observes your reaction carefully, drinking in the pleasure that faintly contorts in your mesmerising features. His own hand goes straight to his neglected cock, hissing lowly as he uses the padding of his thumb to stroke the red slit in a repeated up-and-down motion, imagining how good it would feel if he were there with you to use the tip of his cock to rub your clit instead.

“Does it feel good?” He asks in a slightly strained voice, already feeling sensitive under his own touch, his thumb continuously rubbing the slit in slow yet hard strokes, delaying the peak of his pleasure to arrive as he wants to see you come undone first.

You hum in response, still maintaining your composure as you are focused on rubbing your clit, but when you flicker your gaze to him, you bite down your lip upon seeing how he is evidently caught in a lustful haze, no doubt that he is touching himself. “But your fingers would feel better on it.” You whine softly.

Your words feed into his ego. “Of course, they would. I can easily make you cum just by rubbing your clit with my fingers, because your clit is so sensitive.” He says smugly with a smirk curling at his lips. “It’s actually so fucking adorable. Wonder how you’ll be once I get my tongue to touch your swollen little button instead.”

“Fuck, Hee.” You moan softly as you arch to your own touch, your imagination going vividly wild — his tongue caressing and licking your clit relentlessly with such precision.

“Look at you. Already falling apart.” He finds great delight in teasing you just by his lewd words that affect you more than he expected. “You wanna know what I would do just to your cute clit alone?”

“Tell me, please.” You keen, your fingers now rubbing your clit in fast motion, causing your back to arch off the sofa while you spread your legs even more, disregarding the limit to your flexibility.

“I would rub it with my thumb, giving it a little tease before I go licking it, swirling my tongue slowly around your swollen clit—” He becomes distracted by the pleasurable sensation as he rubs the slit that is now glistening with his arousal. He recovers with a grunt, refocusing on you, and fuck, you look sinfully divine with your body arching to your touch while your tits are pushed out. “And then, I would suck it like how I suck your nipples, and maybe I’d smack your pussy before making you cum hard, repeating the same actions and overstimulating you just to listen to your cute whines till you cry.”

You’re imagining the delicious description of what he would do to you hard, and your building pleasure intensifies as your fingers stimulate your clit at full tilt. You control the moans spilling from your lips as you look at your phone screen. “I wanna see your cock.” You tell him in a demand, earning an eyebrow raised from him.

“What’s the magic word, sweetheart?” He asks in a playful drawl, his lips curving into a lazy grin as he enjoys how the expression on your face is bordering on such desperation.

“Please let me see your cock, daddy.” The syllable leaves your lips wantonly as you whine, and it feels absurdly natural to utter such a forbidden endearment to refer to your lover as. You catch a glimpse of a fleeting surprise in his face amidst your desperate, lustful haze before it is replaced by something so primal. “I missed your cock so much.”

“Yeah? You missed daddy’s cock?” Heeseung sounds more than on board with it, practically into it as he gazes at you hungrily while his voice sounds rough at the edges. You whimper out a ‘yes’ with glossy eyes, and that’s all it takes for him to cave into your request as he tilts his phone to the angle where you are greeted by his seven inches. “Look, baby. You got daddy so hard — it’s angry that it’s not inside of my pretty baby’s pussy or mouth right now.”

“S’unfair!” A sob leaves your lips while you pour your pent-up frustration into your fingers as they rub your swollen clit vigorously. “I’m so needy for you, daddy!” Your unabashed moans echo off the walls of your shared apartment with Heeseung, finally letting go of the last thread of your inhibition.

“I know, baby. It’s unfair that I’m not there to give you what you want right now, but daddy will make it up to you soon.” He coos, his features softening with the familiar affection before something dark shadows them, causing his eyes to darken dangerously. “Daddy will stuff you nice and full with his cock soon. I promise you.”

His firm promise is enough to quell the bitterness at the current circumstances that burns indignantly in your heart. You move your hips slightly in tandem to your vigorous fingers, feeling the imminent release that is teetering at the edge while your clit painfully throbs that serves as a warning. “Hee! I feel—"

Heeseung bites back a growl, feeling practically ravenous at the delicious sight of you losing yourself to your own touch as your mouth is partly open, silently moaning with your eyes rolling to the back. “Come for me.” On his command, you let go, your pussy fluttering with the mess of your release as you can feel it sliding down on your skin to your butt.

Heeseung hums lazily, watching you intently as you slump against the sofa while he continues to manipulate his now-wet slit in measured strokes. “Tired already, sweetheart?” He asks mockingly.

Something inside you gets triggered by his mocking, and you refuse to back down from the challenge that he benignly imposes on you. You shoot him a brief glare, defiance burning in your irises that has him smirking. “No.”

“Good, because we’re not done yet.” His dark chuckles intensify the burning need in you. He looks down at your slick cunt, his tongue darting out to slide across his bottom lip. “Finger yourself. Need you to be prepped because I want to see you fucking yourself with that dildo.”

Your fingers feel like they have muscles of their own as they instinctively heed his command, now travelling down to your weeping cunt. Using your middle and ring fingers, you slowly insert them into your hole, cringing at the unfamiliarity of fingering yourself since you are used to Heeseung doing it for you with his long, slender fingers.

Still, you want to appease him, your fingers thrusting in and out steadily, but it just doesn’t feel right. “I missed your fingers in me.” You whine, your lips forming into a pout that you hope he would get the hint that you’re not into this despite the slick of arousal accumulating as it trickles down on your skin.

“Keep going, baby.” He orders sternly, eliciting more whines of protest from you, but he easily tames you with his dark, penetrating eyes, rendering you completely compliant. It baffles you how he looks collected as you can clearly see that he is rubbing the red tip of his cock. “Use your other fingers and spread your pretty pussy. I wanna see it.”

You hold back a whimper before obeying his command, your other fingers aiding your currently occupied fingers by using your index and middle fingers to finally spread your wet folds open, now giving him the raw obscenity of your fingers plunging into your sopping cunt.

“You’re so soaked, princess.” He comments, his voice a low husk that has your pussy fluttering again. Fuck, he’s so damn attractive in everything he does. “Close your eyes. Imagine that’s my fingers fucking you.”

You close your eyes and tilt your head to the back, your brows pulling together into a soft knit as you try to imagine his fingers fucking you instead of yours, and it’s working as you feel your hips moving in tandem with your fingers.

Heeseung nearly chokes on his saliva, completely mesmerised by the raw sensuality of you as you evidently lose yourself to your own touch. He desperately wants to engrave this moment on his mind, even better if he could record you and save it to his gallery. He stops rubbing his slit, only to begin pumping his cock.

“Look at you. Fucking yourself so desperately, but it isn’t enough, is it?” He sneers, feeling turned on that you seem to like when his words are bordering on mean as you moan in response. “You need daddy’s long fingers deep inside and curl them, fucking you fast and hard till you squirt.”

You fuck yourself harder with your fingers, trying to attain that familiar pleasurable sensation the way you did earlier, but it isn’t enough. “Please! I want your fingers so bad.” You sob out, your eyes seeking him as they plead desperately while the movement of your fingers nearly falters. “I can’t do it. I can’t make myself cum with my fingers alone, daddy.”

Heeseung can’t help but break character just slightly, his concern and affection for you slipping between the cracks. He even loses momentum in pumping his cock that remains hard for you. “But baby, you aren’t properly stretched.” His tone holds the familiar protectiveness.

“I can take it, daddy.” You reassure him after a needy sob leaves you. You look at him with doe-pleading eyes that you know he can’t resist. “Please?”

“Fine. Then take it like a good girl, yeah?” He smirks, resuming to pump his cock at an intensity that has the tip swollen and redder. “Grab that dildo and fuck yourself with it. Don’t forget to keep your legs spread open. Daddy wants to see your pretty pussy taking it.”

You quickly remove your fingers from your hole, eagerly grabbing the pink dildo despite the stickiness of your arousal on your fingers. You position the head of the dildo and align it to your hole before slowly pushing it inside, inch by inch. A gasp leaves your lips at the inevitable stretch of your walls, prompting you to halt halfway.

“What’s wrong? Can’t take it?” His mockery reignites the flame of defiance within you, but his dark eyes feel gradually intimidating, which renders you submissively whiny as you spread your legs further with your back arched. “Come on, baby. You fucked yourself with it earlier, so you can definitely make it fit. How is your cunt going to fit daddy’s cock?”

“I can.” You whimper, tears prickling in your eyes before you muster the courage to continue pushing the dildo into your cunt. The unrelenting stretch elicits more gasps from you, your breathing ragged. “I just need a minute.”

Heeseung is caught in a lustful haze as he zeros in on how your hole takes the dildo, imagining hard at the sensation of your velvety walls being stretched by his girth and eventually enveloping him. With a grunt, he begins to pump himself harder, wanting to test the limit of his endurance in prolonging his orgasm.

Finally, every inch of the dildo is now snuggled in your hole. “There we go. Good girl.” He purrs in satisfaction, making you preen. His dark eyes are heavily fixated on the dildo being stuffed in your dripping cunt. “Now fuck yourself with it. Thrust it into your needy cunt however you want.”

You let out a silent whimper as you begin to pull the dildo, only to push it back in, your walls having to be stretched by the girth, but you know that this is nothing compared to his real cock. You allow your head to rest on the sofa’s back, your chest heaving up and down as you imagine the ridges and veins of his cock grazing against your walls while he fucks you in slow, deep strokes. You moan softly as you increase the tempo of your hand manipulating the dildo into your dripping cunt.

You glance down at your phone screen, only to moan out at the pleasure contorting in his face as he fists his cock with his hand. “I watched some of your concert clips earlier.” You tell him breathlessly as he looks at you with an attractive eyebrow raised. “And you got me so wet, daddy.” You moan again, now reaching for your tits with your other hand, palming and fiddling with your nipples, which intensifies the building pleasure.

“Oh, yeah? Naughty girl.” He teases you, his eyes watching you playing with your tits that he had been dreaming of latching his lips to your suckable nipples. He pumps his angry cock harder, his mind running wild at the scenario — sucking your tits while he fucks you hard with his hips bruisingly snapping into yours. “Which ones are your favourites?”

“Um—“ Your voice shakes at the instability of having to focus on his question, but the dildo that is fucking into your cunt right now feels good. “Teeth and Future Perfect performances.” You answer in a breathy moan, recalling how you felt when you were watching those clips of him.

You thrust the dildo faster and harder; the squelching sound of your wet cunt reaches your ears while he clenches his jaw at how wet you really are, pissed off that it’s not even his cock that is making you that wet.

“You looked so hot when you were performing those songs, the way you looked angry.” You tell him keenly, practically purring as you recall the intensity in his dark eyes that looked primal when he was performing and how he looked pissed off, making you wetter as you imagine the stuff you want him to do to you. “You should’ve felt how wet I was while I was watching those clips. Got me imagining how you’d fuck me angrily.”

Despite your sultry admission going straight into his hard cock, his eyebrows furrow with a tinge of concern plastered on his face, but he never relents from pumping his cock. “Baby, you know I would never fuck my anger into you.” The reserved softness in his tone elicits a whine of protest from you, needing him to be mean to you instead.

“But it’ll be so hot!” You moan out as you arch your back off the sofa before moving your hips sensually to meet the thrust of your dildo deeper. “I want you to fuck me mean till I’m a sobbing mess. You know you’d want that, daddy.” You purr, your sultry eyes gazing at him with a challenge while his cock twitches angrily at the thought. Fuck yeah, he’d want that.

“Fuck.” He grits his teeth, faltering in his momentum as his head spins at the scenario of him fucking you ruthlessly till you beg for him to stop, till you cry and sob as he overstimulates you with his cock all night. “Yeah? You want daddy to be mean?” He nearly growls out his words while your cunt clenches around the dildo at the sound.

“Want it so much.” You whine needily as you palm your tits harder, getting crazily turned on as you watch him throw his head to the back with his Adam's apple bobbing up and down attractively while sweats trickle down his neck. “Want you to cuff my wrists and choke me while you fuck me hard. Want you to do mean things to me so badly.”

Your needy yet genuine admission has him reeling in the head. He feels like an animal, growling at the salacious thought of you being restrained to the bed while you take everything he gives to you like a good little fucktoy — nothing like the usual lovemaking. He groans huskily at the image of you in tears as you pathetically plead with him to stop despite your sopping cunt meeting his thrusts.

“I’ll do more than that.” He rasps, his tone darkening with promises that cause your clit to throb and your nipples to perk. When you meet his eyes, you whimper at the intensity that reminds you of those concert clips of him. “I promise you, baby, I’ll give you what you want once I come back.” A cruel smirk touches his lips, shocking you at the dark sensuality he emits. “You want me to be fucking mean while I fuck you senselessly? I’ll do just that. I’ll make you scream and cry while you take everything I give to your needy pussy. You’ll get mean Heeseung, alright.”

“Fuck, daddy!” You moan loudly, getting unbearably turned on by his dark promises as you thrust the dildo harder, hurtling yourself to the edge of ecstasy. You abandon your tits, only to stimulate your clit in fast, circular motion.

“We’ll go all night, never stopping till your needy pussy is leaking with my cum, till your pussy can’t fit any more of my cum, but I’ll make you swallow them.” He lets out a guttural moan as he pumps his cock furiously, his eyes rolling to the back at the height of his pleasure. “I’ll fuck you for days, keeping you satisfied and full till you can’t walk. I’ll fucking do it, because it’s daddy’s job to spoil his princess.”

“Yes, daddy! Want you to spoil his princess!” You’re not sure if you’re referring to yourself or your pussy, but you are deprived of coherency as you get lost in the dual sensation of your cunt and your clit being manipulated by your own hands. “I’m feeling close, Hee!”

“Don’t you dare come before me.” He warns in a growl, sending pleasurable shivers through you. You obey him, whining and moaning as you try your best to stave off your orgasm that is teetering, yet you are rubbing your clit skilfully fast. “Yeah, baby. Keep rubbing your clit for me like that. Cock feels good, hm?”

You hum in response with tears pricking in your eyes. “But not better than daddy’s cock.” You sob out pathetically, and that has him cooing at you with mockery. “Need daddy’s cock to satisfy my needy pussy.” But in the haze of lust, the familiar sentiments manage to grip you tight as your glossy eyes meet his. “I missed you so much, Hee.”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” He softens up just slightly, seeing the familiar yearning in your pretty eyes. He clenches his jaw, pouring his pent-up emotions he hasn't conveyed to you just yet into pumping his cock while effectively stroking his thumb on his wet slit. “I’m never letting you go, ever. We’ll fuck every day once I get back, and I’ll breed you till you get pregnant with our kids. Daddy will take such good care of you.”

“Yes, yes! Breed me, daddy!” You keenly moan, your hips stuttering as you imagine he pumps his load into you to the brim, breeding you.

“I’m gonna buy you a ring, and I’m gonna marry you, tying you to me forever.” He pours out what his heart has been yearning for. Despite the lust fogging his head, he looks at you with an intense yearning from the love he harbours for you, desperation contorting in his features fleetingly. “I’ll make you my wife.”

“Nngh! Hee!” You can feel it coming, your teetering orgasm on the brink of being released against your weakened will while the coil in your tummy threatens to snap at any moment. You fuck the dildo into you even faster, sobbing out. “I can’t hold back! I need to come, please!”

“Daddy will make you beg more too. You sound so fucking pretty when you do.” He groans, and with one last pump, his cock spurts out the white, sticky essence that now soaks his sweatpants. He breathes out harshly at the intensity of his own release before looking back at you, only to smirk at how obedient you are, waiting for his command with tears staining your cheeks, such desperation. “Alright, sweetheart, you can let go anytime for me.”

“Thank you, daddy.” Your moan tangles with your sob, and at once, your orgasm comes crashing down on you violently, leaving your legs trembling while you arch your back, your mouth parting with a silent moan as your cunt gushes out with your sticky release.

“That’s my perfect girl, making a mess all over.” He remarks with an unmistakable affection as he watches you with primal hunger, enjoying how ruined you look just from fucking yourself, but not nearly as ruined as he will make you once he returns.

Your heart flutters at his praise while you remain slumped against the sofa, allowing your limbs to rest as the exertion begins to dawn in every part of your muscles. Eventually, you force yourself to remove the dildo from your cunt slowly, whimpering as you do so as it grazes down against your walls. You eye the dildo that is covered by your sticky release before tossing it aside. You can feel how soaked the cushion is beneath you due to your release, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You take a moment to recover while the sound of your boyfriend’s ragged breathing can be heard through the audio. The silence is familiarly comfortable, neither of you uttering a word to each other as you bask in the afterglow of your session. But some of the words he spoke to you in the midst of your lustful haze resonate deep in you. Your heart begins to pound harder while butterflies return in their wake.

“You okay, baby?” He asks softly, now being the sweet and gentle boyfriend that you’re in love with. He is still wiping off the excess of his release with tissues off his now-limp cock, but he grimaces at the apparent stain on his grey sweatpants.

“I’m okay.” You tell him reassuringly, your voice coming out small from the excessive whines and moans that bring your face to flush warmly at how wanton you were earlier. You lean forward, grimacing at the aches in your legs and the stickiness in between your thighs before grabbing your phone. Your eyes soften as he gazes at you. “Heeseung, did you mean what you said?”

You refer to every word he spoke to you, needing assurance and affirmation from him; otherwise, you’d be overthinking at night. “I meant every word, sweetheart.” He says firmly, his tone lacing with promises.

You bite your inner cheek, feeling nervous about what you are about to ask. “Even about making me your wife?” You ask quietly, your eyes scanning his unreadable expression carefully.

“Especially that.” His declaration sends a wave of emotions to you as your breath goes hitched in your throat. The raw vulnerability and yearning in his eyes are palpable, as though they are the reflection of your own sentiment. “I really feel the same way too, you know?”

Somehow, you have a strong inkling that he is referring to him missing you. You exhale softly before a small yet weak smile touches your lips. “I know, Hee—“

“No, baby, you don’t understand because I’ve been missing you too much, more than you missed me.” He cuts you off, taking you by complete surprise at the sheer desperation and pain that contorts in his handsome features, because you have never seen him being like this — as though the distance is killing him agonisingly on the inside too. “You’re on my mind constantly, even when I was practicing, and all I could think about is going home to you as soon as possible. I needed you, I still do.”

You try to find your voice, wanting to speak out, anything to ease your lover’s pain, but he continues to pour out the pent-up emotions he had been grappling with. “I hate to say it, but it got me thinking if my being an idol is even worth it if it means that I’d have to leave you again and again for tours.”

This time, something inside of you snaps. “Don’t say that, Hee. I never want it to reach a point where you find yourself in a position of choosing between me or your idol job.” You don’t mean to sound harsh, but you can’t allow it to happen, even if it means that you might lose him to his job. Your voice trembles as you speak again, tears welling in your waterline. “You love being an idol, you love your teammates, you love performing in front of your fans, and you must be crazy to think that I’d even allow you to choose me—“

“But I love you more.” Heeseung declares with vehemence while the devastation painting his handsome face tears a sob out of you. “Yes, I love being an idol, but it could never be compared to the weight of my love for you.”

“Heeseung.” You utter his name weakly as tears cascade down your cheeks freely. His declaration of love is all it takes for you to break down.

He watches you helplessly as you attempt to wipe your tears away. “God, I hate it when I’m not there to wipe your tears for you.” He whispers, his heart clenching painfully when your glossy eyes meet him.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter, hating how you are being overly sensitive and getting too carried away with your emotions.

“No more apologies from you, baby, because I’m the one who should be apologising to you.” He says softly, yet firmly enough for you to grasp his sincerity.

“But you didn’t do anything wrong.” You counter weakly, sniffling. “You’re simply doing your job, and I’m just being a dramatic girlfriend.”

“I did you wrong by leaving your side when you needed me the most.” He says with a rueful smile. “You can expect a lot of apologies from me once I come back home, and a ring too.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief, earning you a chuckle from him. “What? You thought I was joking about buying you a ring?” He adorns a boyish grin that you so badly want to kiss him. “I did say that I’d be making you my wife. I’m a man of my words, sweetheart.”

“But it’s still early for us to get married!” You protest despite your heart thumping in agreement to his words. A frown tugs at your lips, determined to make him change his mind as you don’t want him to regret it. “I won’t allow marriage to get in the way of your job. Would your fans even accept the idea of us getting married?”

“Baby, you’re my future and my happiness. If the company wants to kick me out simply for marrying you, then so be it. I can always take over my dad’s business as a source of income. As for my fans, well, they’ll be happy for me — I’m sure they will, at least the real ones will.”

“I don’t know if I’m worth it for you to go through such lengths, Hee.” Your lips quiver, feeling dejected. “I don’t want you to throw away your years of hard work because of me. You went through so much just to get where you are now.”

“You are worth it, worth more than you think.” He says reassuringly, his tone sounding firm with conviction, but it does nothing to alleviate the thoughts he can see swirling in your head, eliciting a soft sigh from him. “If you’re still worried about my consideration in quitting my idol job, then I’ll figure things out and find ways so that I won’t have to leave your side again.”

“Promise me that you won’t quit.” You plead, your voice breaking as you feel immensely conflicted, because you can never deny a part of you that yearns for him to choose you. “I don’t want you to have any regrets if you had chosen that path.”

“Baby, I won’t have any regrets when it comes to you—”

“Just promise me, Heeseung.” You implore as your eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Promise me that you won’t quit because of me.” because of love.

Heeseung doesn’t respond as he examines your teary countenance, noticing how desperate you are and knowing that you won’t back down, even if he can feel your heart breaking. He resigns with a sigh. “I promise.” He hopes that he sounds convincing enough, because you are crazy to think that he would never choose you, but only for now, the idea of marriage is pushed to the back of his mind.

You feel at ease despite your heartache, but you know that this is for the best for him. You sniffle again, earning an adoring grin from him. You avoid his eyes, a sudden diffidence cloaking you while your cheeks flush warmly. “Besides, how else will I be able to watch you perform on stage? I love watching you perform.”

“I know, baby, because I turn you on whenever I perform.” His mischief returns to his demeanour, a smirk unfurling on his lips while desire burns in his gaze. “What did you tell me earlier? Something about how I looked hot while I was performing Future Perfect and Teeth?”

You smile shyly as you nod your head, and God, he feels like he’s in love with you over and over again. “Mmhmm. You looked like you were angry, but I loved it. It got me all hot and bothered.” You tell him bluntly, oblivious to your words that rouse him.

“Fuck, baby, we should stop now.” He groans, repressing the arousal from reaching his cock. “I don’t think I could handle another round.”

“Right, you need sleep.” You say, pouting as you realise that he is supposed to be asleep right now.

“Don’t pout, sweetheart. I’ll be back before you know it.” He says reassuringly before his lips curve into a smirk again. “I hope you won’t forget what I promised you earlier, because we’re not done yet.”

“Hurry back, then.” You adorn a sultry smile on your lips, and the sensuality of you elicits a breathy cuss from him. “I expect you to ruin me once you return home, daddy.”

“Don’t worry, princess. You’ll get what you asked for. You’re gonna get it.”

You have never felt as anticipated as you are now, but the reality of him returning to you is in two long days. You let out a silent huff before eyeing your pink dildo. Guess that’ll work and keep you company for the next two days.

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#enhypen smut #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader smut

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aisiedaisie · 2 days ago

Text

Royal Flush

Authors Note: I'm currently recovering from surgery so I apologize for a lack of updates. I am recovering well, thankfully, but it's been really difficult to sit and write for long periods of time... I'm so sorry!!! However, we finally have an update~ If there are any grammatical errors I apologize most of this was written via voice to text my little loophole for writing right now.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader WC: 3.7K

Morning arrived with an unceremonious jolt as a series of sharp knocks shattered the fragile peace of your slumber. You groaned, barely able to push yourself upright before the door creaked open without waiting for your response.

Molly strode in with a bounce in her step, the morning sun catching on her copper curls as they bobbed with her movement. She wore her usual mischievous grin, her hands planted firmly on her hips like she was about to deliver some grand proclamation.

“Good morning, my lady,” she chimed, her voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness.

Still groggy, you blinked at her, confusion clouding your mind. “Molly— what are you—”

Before you could finish, she closed the door with a deliberate click and leaned against it, her grin widening. Her expression practically sparkled with mischief, and you suddenly felt very exposed.

“A little birdie,” she began, her tone light and almost singsong, “told me something very interesting this morning.”

A faint sense of dread began to creep into your chest. “What do you mean?” you asked cautiously, though a part of you already suspected where this was heading.

Molly tilted her head, her coy expression unwavering. “Oh, nothing much. Just that my brothers—lovely lads, part of the Griffyn Guard, as you know— happened to spot someone leaving your chambers at an awfully early hour.”

Your stomach dropped. Bolting upright, you felt the blood rush from your head, leaving you dizzy. “What?” you croaked, the word barely audible.

Molly raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. “Don’t look so scandalized, my lady,” she teased. “They weren’t sure who it was at first— until they got a better look. And wouldn’t you know it, the person bore an uncanny resemblance to Sir Sirius Black.”

Your heart leapt into your throat as her words hung in the air. You scrambled for a response, but your tongue felt like lead.

Molly’s grin turned positively feline. She crossed her arms, her eyes twinkling with glee. “So,” she drawled, “is there something you’d like to share? A midnight rendezvous, perhaps?”

You gaped at her, heat rushing to your face. “Molly!” you finally managed, your voice a mix of exasperation and embarrassment.

She chuckled, pushing off the door and sauntering closer. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m not about to start spreading tales. But you can’t blame a girl for being curious.”

“Nothing happened,” you sigh, waving a hand dismissively toward Molly’s pointed, curious stare. “He was just helping me back to my room after I went for a stroll in the gardens.”

Molly tilted her head, her auburn curls swaying with the motion, her brows raised in a way that told you she didn’t believe a single word of it. Still, she offered a shrug, deciding— for now, at least— not to press the matter further.

“If you say so, my lady,” she said with a sly smile that suggested she wasn’t quite finished teasing you.

_____

The rest of the early morning passed in a whirlwind of Molly’s endless energy and rapid fire explanations as she led you through more of the castle. At last, you discovered the kitchens, tucked away in a cozy corner of the palace. The scent of fresh bread and simmering stews greeted you as Molly proudly declared, “And here’s where the magic happens.”

You were introduced to the bustling cooks and kitchen staff, their aprons dusted with flour and their sleeves rolled up as they worked around the large stone hearth. They greeted you warmly, one even offering you a freshly baked roll that you nibbled on thankfully as Molly dragged you back into the halls.

From there, she brought you by the meeting rooms, where, unsurprisingly, the princess was once again trapped in an endless string of meetings.

Mary and Marlene stood near the door to the meeting chamber, their postures casual yet attentive.

“Lily is still in there?” You ask, your tone equal parts amused and exasperated.

Mary sighed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the stone wall. “Still in there,” she confirmed with a knowing look.

“We can’t even go inside,” Marlene added, gesturing toward the grand double doors. “It’d be overkill for all of us to just stand around waiting for her highness. Besides,” she added with a grimace, “I’m not sitting through another one of those meetings unless I’m being forced.”

Mary turned to you with an understanding smile and waved you off. “Don’t worry about her. Our lady is used to this. She’ll find us when she’s free.”

Before you could even offer to wait with them, Molly was already ushering you away, her hands lightly pushing you down the hall like a mother shooing her child away from adult conversations.

“Come on, no use hovering around,” she said cheerily. “Let’s find something else to do.”

You glanced back over your shoulder at the closed doors of the meeting chamber, feeling a faint pang of sympathy for Lily. Then, sighing in resignation, you allowed Molly to steer you away, her chatter quickly filling the quiet corridors as the castle unfolded before you once more.

_____

You spent the remainder of the morning seated by the window, warm sunlight streaming through the frosty glass, as Molly animatedly filled the air with her knowledge about the capital’s shops.

It had started with a simple question about winter dresses— your wardrobe clearly unprepared for the fast approaching frigid temperatures— and Molly had launched into a detailed breakdown of every reputable boutique in town.

Her enthusiasm was contagious, her smile bright as she spoke of fabric selections, embroidery styles, and which tailors were secretly overrated. But as her words spilled forth like a rushing stream, you began to feel the sheer amount of information cloud your thoughts.

“Thank you, Molly,” you said finally, with a gentle laugh that masked your slight overwhelm. “When I’m able, I’d like to go into town to—”

Molly, never one to hesitate, practically bounced in place. “We can go now, if you’d like, my lady!” she offered eagerly, already standing and smoothing down the front of her skirts in preparation.

You glanced at the small ornate clock perched on the vanity. The delicate golden hands crept closer to midday. Your heart fluttered, and you quickly shook your head, reaching out to grasp Molly’s hand before she could get too far. “Perhaps tomorrow?” you suggested gently.

Her brows lifted in curiosity, the question clear in her expression even though she didn’t voice it.

You averted your gaze, busying yourself by tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and answered her unspoken query. “I promised Sir Sirius I would meet with him today. Around noon.”

Your voice dropped slightly, softened with a tone you hadn’t intended to use. Your head bowed just enough to mask the warmth spreading across your cheeks, though you doubted Molly missed it.

The memories of last night— the way Sirius had lingered just long enough for you to feel his sincerity— still hovered fresh and vivid in your mind.

Molly’s lips quirked upward, a knowing smile tugging at the corners. “Ah, I see,” she teased, leaning closer in mock secrecy. “Well, far be it from me to come between you and a certain knight, my lady.”

“Molly…” you groan, your cheeks as warm as they could be as you shoot her an admonishing look.

But she merely laughed, her giggles bright and carefree as they echoed through the room.

“Well, we should doll you up then,” Molly declared with a mischievous grin, already eyeing your hair and outfit as if she were mentally drafting a plan. “Not that you really need it—"

“It’s not a date,” you interrupted with a soft laugh, shaking your head at her enthusiasm.

Molly’s brows rose ever so slightly, clearly unconvinced. “Not a date?” she repeated, a teasing lilt in her voice as she crossed her arms.

You rolled your eyes, though a faint smile tugged at your lips. “It isn’t. I was asked to meet with Sir Sirius, Sir Remus, and His Highness after his classes this morning,” you explained, watching as her smile grew impossibly wider.

“Even more reason to doll you up!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together as if your explanation had only solidified her resolve.

Before you could protest, Molly had already begun rifling through your wardrobe with the fervor of someone on a mission. “Let’s see,” she muttered under her breath, pulling out gowns and holding them up against the light. “Too formal… too plain… oh, this one!” She spun around, holding a light blue gown trimmed with silver embroidery that shimmered faintly in the morning light.

“Molly, really—”

“Oh, hush,” she interrupted, her tone both firm and playful as she laid the gown on the bed and began fussing with your hair. “You may not think it’s a date, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t look stunning. You’re meeting with the prince, my lady. A little effort never hurt anyone.”

You sighed in surrender, letting her take the reins as she braided your hair into an elegant, simple style. As she worked, her chatter filled the room, alternating between playful teasing about your 'not a date' and genuine compliments about how the color of the dress would bring out your eyes.

By the time she was finished, you couldn’t help but admire her handiwork. The gown fit perfectly, and the subtle sparkle of the embroidery caught the light whenever you moved. Your hair, braided and pinned just so, framed your face delicately.

“There,” Molly said with a satisfied smile, stepping back to admire her work. “Now you’re ready to meet your knight—and your prince.”

You shot her a pointed look, but the warmth of your smile betrayed you. “Thank you, Molly. But really, this isn’t—”

“Save it,” she interrupted with a wink, shooing you toward the door. “Go on, my lady. You don’t want to keep them waiting.”

As you left the room, you couldn’t help but feel a slight flutter of nerves mixed with anticipation. It wasn’t a date, you reminded yourself again, but something about the way Sirius had smiled at you the night before made it hard to ignore the possibilities lingering in the air.

_____

The walk to the library was nerve wracking. Your heart thrummed in your ears, each step feeling as though it drained the energy from your body. Yet, despite the nervous fluttering in your chest, you pressed on, determined to keep your promise.

Soon enough, you found yourself standing before the grand double doors of the library, slightly ajar to reveal a world of endless shelves and tables bathed in soft golden light.

Pushing the doors open wider, you stepped inside. The scent of parchment and aged leather greeted you, a soothing yet slightly overwhelming aroma. Rows upon rows of books stretched toward the ceiling, interspersed with towering ladders that hinted at the sheer scale of the collection.

At the center of it all stood an older man, his back straight and his movements deliberate. He cradled two hefty books against his chest, his expression warm and inviting. For a brief moment, you swore you'd seen his face before, and then it struck you— this must be the prince’s tutor and, by extension, Remus’s father.

The realization had you bowing your head quickly in a polite gesture as you stepped aside to let him pass.

“Ah, thank you, my lady,” he said with a gentle chuckle, his voice kind and refined.

You murmured a soft response, still bowing your head slightly, and watched as he left the library. The sound of his footsteps faded into the corridor beyond, leaving you alone with the three figures still in the room.

James sat at one of the tables across from Remus, a scattering of books and scrolls spread between them. James’s hand rested lightly on the edge of a page, mid-turn, while Remus appeared to be explaining something, his tone low and measured.

And then there was Sirius, leaning casually against a bookshelf just behind James. His dark hair fell across his face in soft waves, and his arms were crossed in a way that gave him a roguish, unbothered air. Yet the moment his gaze landed on you, his posture shifted ever so slightly— his shoulders straightened, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at his lips.

“Well,” James said, his voice breaking the quiet reverie. He closed his book with a soft thud and grinned at you. “Look who decided to join us.”

You smiled nervously, stepping further into the room. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” you said softly, your gaze flitting between them.

“Not at all,” Remus assured, his tone steady and reassuring. “We were just finishing up.”

Sirius pushed off the bookcase then, walking toward you with an easy grace that belied the warmth in his stormy gray eyes. “You made it,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, though the smile on his lips widened ever so slightly.

You nodded, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. “I promised I would try to come by.”

James exchanged a knowing look with Remus, who merely raised a brow in quiet amusement before returning his attention to closing the books in front of him.

“Well,” James said, clapping his hands together and standing. “Since we’re done with lessons for the day, why don’t we get out of here? The library’s a bit too stuffy for a proper conversation, don’t you think?”

Sirius turned back to look at you, waiting for your response. Your throat felt dry, but you managed a nod. “That sounds lovely.”

“Perfect,” James said with a grin, looping an arm around Remus’s shoulder as they began to gather their things. Sirius lingered at your side, his presence both grounding and slightly overwhelming.

As the four of you made your way out of the library, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of ease and anticipation— like the faint hum of an incoming storm.

Though you trusted their lead, uncertainty began to creep in when you realized you had no idea where you were heading. Lingering just a step behind, you took note of every turn, trying to memorize the path. You knew it would be just your luck to wander into an unfamiliar wing later and find yourself hopelessly lost.

That thought proved prophetic when James turned into a hallway you hadn’t seen before. The cold, bare stone of the earlier halls gave way to a long, deep red carpet that ran the length of the corridor. The walls, too, grew more ornate, boasting intricate carvings and golden accents. This wing was somehow even more luxurious than the one you had been staying in with Lily.

The opulence only deepened as you were led into a sitting room. The space was warm and inviting, the kind of elegance that whispered of understated power. Wine colored velvet couches framed a glass table adorned with delicate gold trim, the craftsmanship so fine you almost hesitated to look too long.

Sheer white curtains framed tall windows, allowing sunlight to filter through the leaves of trees outside. The dappled light danced across the room in soft patches, adding a gentle glow to the otherwise regal atmosphere.

“Have a seat, my lady.”

Remus’s calm, steady voice drew you out of your thoughts. You blinked, startled by how deeply you had been observing the room, and turned to find him gesturing to one of the couches.

“Oh,” you breathed, your cheeks warming as you realized you had been standing there for longer than was intended. “Thank you.”

With a soft nod, you stepped forward and sank into one of the couches. The velvet cushions were as plush as they looked, enveloping you in a quiet sort of comfort. It was a stark contrast to the fluttering nerves in your chest.

James and Sirius took seats across from you, Sirius choosing the armrest rather than the couch itself, while James lounged with a carefree ease that only seemed to amplify the princely air about him. Remus, ever the gentleman, settled beside you, though he left a polite distance between you.

“So,” James began, his tone bright as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What do you think of the castle so far?”

“It’s… breathtaking,” you admitted honestly, your gaze flicking around the room once more. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how grand it all is.”

James grinned, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’d be surprised. Give it a few weeks, and you’ll be wandering these halls like you own the place.”

“Or,” Sirius interjected, his tone light but teasing, “you’ll get hopelessly lost and end up in the kitchens. Not that it’s a bad place to be.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I’m trying to avoid that fate, but I can’t make any promises.”

Remus chuckled quietly beside you, the sound low and warm. “If it happens, you’ll have plenty of people willing to guide you back. Sirius especially seems to enjoy playing the knight in shining armor.”

Sirius shot him a playful glare, but there was no heat behind it. “I don’t see you volunteering to help.”

“That’s because I have faith in her sense of direction,” Remus replied smoothly, his lips quirking into a small smile as he turned to you. “But should you need it, I’d be happy to help as well.”

The warmth in his gaze made your heart skip a beat, and you found yourself nodding before you even fully registered his words. “Thank you, Remus. I’ll keep that in mind.”

James clapped his hands together, breaking the quiet moment. “Alright, enough teasing. Let’s enjoy ourselves, shall we? We’ve got plenty of time before duty calls again.”

The casual rapport in the air eased the last of your nerves, and you allowed yourself to relax into the couch, a soft smile gracing your lips.

Sirius was the one to break the comfortable silence, his voice smooth but direct as he leaned forward from his perch on the armrest. “So,” he began, his grey eyes flicking between you and the others, “how did you want to go about this?”

His words hung in the air like a thread waiting to be pulled, and the mood shifted ever so slightly.

Remus let out a quiet sigh, his hand lifting to pinch the bridge of his nose in obvious exasperation. “Must we always jump straight to the point, Sirius? Can we not ease into this for once?”

James, lounging with his typical air of princely mischief, bit back a chuckle, his amber eyes glinting with amusement. “I hate to say it, but Siri has a point. I think being upfront might actually help here, Rem.”

At that, Remus’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling, the smallest twitch of a smile betraying his otherwise irritated expression. “Fine,” he relented, gesturing loosely with his hand as though passing the baton. “By all means, one of you take the lead.”

James straightened a little in his seat, clearly ready to jump in, but Sirius beat him to it. His gaze settled on you, steady but not unkind, the sharp edges of his humor softened for the moment.

“We wanted to talk to you about something important,” Sirius said, his tone unusually measured. “And, well, it’s not exactly the easiest thing to bring up.”

You tilted your head slightly, curiosity sparking in your chest as you met his gaze. “Important?” you echoed, your voice tentative.

Remus sighed again, though there was less frustration and more resignation in the sound now. “Yes, important,” he confirmed, sitting up straighter as if to lend weight to his words. “It concerns you… and us, I suppose.”

James, ever the bold one, leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees his hands intertwined as he grinned at you with that boyish smile. “We’ve all grown quite fond of you,” he said, his tone light but earnest.

Your brows knitted together in confusion, and you glanced between the three of them. “I… don’t quite understand,” you admitted, your heart thudding louder with each passing second.

Sirius exchanged a brief glance with James, then Remus, before turning back to you. “We’re trying to say that we care about you,” he explained, his voice softer now. “Not just as acquaintances or friends. Something more than that.”

The room seemed to tilt slightly, your breath catching as the weight of his words settled over you. “You mean… all of you?” you asked hesitantly, your cheeks warming as you tried to process.

Remus nodded, his expression as calm and reassuring as ever. “Yes. All of us.”

James smiled warmly, the sincerity in his eyes dispelling any lingering doubt. “You don’t have to give us an answer now,” he said quickly, his tone gentle. “We just… We just wanted you to know how we feel.”

Your gaze dropped to your hands, which were clasped tightly in your lap, your thoughts a whirlwind of emotions you couldn’t quite pin down. When you finally looked up again, the three of them were watching you with varying degrees of hope and apprehension, their vulnerability as evident as if they’d laid it bare.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You were flattered— their words sincere, their intentions genuine as far as you could tell— but something inside you hesitated. “Is it not too soon to talk of being so taken with someone like this? It’s barely been three days since—”

Sirius’s faint smile softened further, his usual cocky demeanor tempered by a rare tenderness. “Then don’t say anything,” he murmured, his voice low but steady. “Just think about it. That’s all we ask.”

You nodded slowly, your chest tight with a mix of uncertainty and something far warmer, something that made your heart ache in the most confusingly wonderful way. “I will,” you promised, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

The three of them seemed to relax at your words, and James, ever the optimist, clapped his hands together with a grin. “Well, now that that’s out of the way, shall we order some food? I’m starving.”

The tension in the room broke like a wave, leaving behind a tentative sense of relief. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound a welcome release after the intensity of the moment.

“Food does sound good,” you admitted, allowing yourself a small smile.

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, you found yourself glancing at each of them in turn, the weight of their confession still lingering in the air between you.

You didn’t have all the answers yet, but for now, you were content to simply exist in this moment.

tag list: @amatoanima @wolfstar4everbitches @bugworldsworld @ilovejamespottersomuch @garden-h0bbit @dearmy-diary @yejiswifex @bmyva1entine @emerald-jade1 @miliokumura3 @amandinhagg @thewitchesofart

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aprilsarchives · 10 hours ago

Text

So very true! I love it when anyone comments on my stories but I absolutely ADORE it when the comment is so detailed, telling me how they really enjoyed the fic or even what their favorite part was.

That connects to me on another level. It can truly make my day brighter when I'm dealing with the problems of everyday life.

If you seriously love someone's writing and want to see more from them, then tell them! Make it worth their time. Make them feel like all the hours and brain power they put into sharing it with you will eventually feel worth it.

Yeah, they may be writing for themselves first but they can do that without posting and sharing with everyone. Don't expect that they'll always keep uploading regardless if they have zero comments, because I promise you they won't. Be the person, or those people who give some encouragement.

It's truly the least we can do any doesn't take more than a minute.

Write those comments!

BTW i see these posts all the time like "ohhh i dont know what to comment on fics.." and every response is "keysmashes! or hearts!! anything works :3" and thats GREAT!! thats helpful!!

but: consider. if u genuinely like analyzing writing.. do u know ur just allowed to go through and quote your favorite parts and ramble abt what they mean to u and the author will LOSE IT WITH HYPE?

genuinely. i felt SO WEIRD the first time i did it.. but like. holy shit authors love it. its crack for authors. the first time i did it, it was on a fic that hadnt updated in half a year, give or take, and the author made 3 updates that month BECAUSE OF MY COMMENT.

LIKE. as an author every comment is INCREDIBLE!!! but also, dont feel like your comment has to be short or otherwise ur invasive or smth!! authors ADORE long comments more than ANYTHING.

#ao3 #fanfiction #ao3 writer #please comment #comment culture #aprils thoughts

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kiwriteswords · 3 days ago

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It's a Match [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 7.6k|| AN: I rescheduled a hinge date to finish writing this (I wish I was joking)...that is the inspo for this. I really enjoyed this one, though!

Tags/Warnings: non-BAU!Reader, suggestive themes, canon-typical themes, implied sexual themes, dating apps, meet cute ? kinda?, Aaron Hotchner's POV, Garcia-the-ever-supportive-friend, The BAU giving Hotch shit, Garcia signing Hotch up for a dating app.

Summary: Aaron Hotchner rarely sought out the opinions of others, but when his co-workers' incessant nagging about getting back out in the dating world continues, he begins to think about it a little more clearly.

Aaron Hotchner wasn’t fond of his personal life being up for debate. At this point in his life, he rarely found himself seeking the advice of others. He found that relying so heavily on other’s input, only made him feel less confident in his decisions.

That isn’t to say that his team...his team that means well--he must add, that they…they tend to still give advice without him needing to ask for it.

In the low hum of the bullpen, Hotch tood with a stern expression, his eyes scanning the case files in a folder he held. Despite the typical chaos of phone calls and keyboard clacks, an undercurrent of a different sort awaited Hotch--a well-meaning, albeit persistent, nudge from his team towards something resembling a personal life.

“Hotch, you seriously need to get out more,” Garcia quipped as she approached him, her fingers dancing across a colorful tablet, laden with what Hotch assumed were not just case notes but potential social engagements. “It’s been ages since Beth and...well, you know.”

Hotch merely nodded, his jaw tightening slightly. He appreciated her concern, a softness blooming in his chest, but the thought of venturing back into the world of dating seemed daunting, a distant terrain.

“You have to admit, Jack’s practically a grown-up now. He’s got his own social calendar,” Prentiss joined in, her voice light, trying to tread carefully around the subject.

Hotch sighed, setting down the file he was holding. “I’m not sure I’m ready,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. This admission felt heavy, laden with the unspoken grief of losing Haley and the subsequent dissolution of what little personal life he had managed to rebuild.

Morgan leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed. “Look, man, no one’s saying jump into anything serious. Just...meet people. Have coffee. Laugh a little.” His tone was earnest, edged with concern.

Hotch rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the weight of their stares. “I know you all mean well, but—”

“It’s healthy, Hotch!” Garcia interrupted, her voice vibrant, attempting to infuse some light into the somber mood. “And who knows? Maybe there’s someone out there who’s been waiting just for someone like you.”

Despite himself, Hotch’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile. He admired Garcia’s relentless optimism. “Maybe,” he conceded.

The team seemed to collectively hold their breath, waiting for more, but Hotch was not ready to offer anything beyond that concession. He glanced around at each of them, their faces etched with a mix of hope and caution.

“I’ll think about it,” Hotch finally said, a compromise that seemed to satisfy them for the moment. He hoped this was the last of it.

As the team dispersed back to their tasks, Hotch returned to his office. His hand brushed over a photo of Haley and Jack, the texture of the frame familiar and bittersweet under his fingers. He wasn’t sure if he was truly ready to let someone else into his life, but the warmth from his team’s concern was hard to ignore. Maybe it was time to start thinking about the possibility, even if the thought alone made his heart race with a mix of fear and anticipation.

Hotch didn’t need to be a profiler to know his team would bring this up…again. And again. And you know what? Probably again.

The evening found the team at a local bar, a rare collective moment of downtime that buzzed with laughter and casual banter. Hotch, though present and occasionally contributing to the conversation, often found his gaze wandering over the crowd, an observer more than a participant.

Garcia leaned in, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she nudged JJ, who was scanning the crowd with a mischievous grin. "Okay, so there's this woman at the bar," Garcia whispered loud enough for the team to hear, "and she looks perfect for Hotch."

Hotch, who had been sipping his scotch quietly, raised an eyebrow, his posture stiffening slightly. "I thought we agreed—"

"Oh, come on, Hotch, it’s just a bit of fun," JJ interjected, her gaze fixed on someone across the room. "No harm in looking, right?"

Morgan chuckled, clapping Hotch on the shoulder. "Let's see if Garcia's matchmaking skills are as good as her tech skills."

Reluctantly, Hotch turned his gaze towards the bar. The woman in question was laughing loudly, a little too boisterously, her movements slightly uncoordinated as she swayed to the music. As if sensing the attention, she looked over, her eyes locking with Hotch’s for a brief, unsettling moment before she raised her glass in a sloppy salute.

Hotch’s lips thinned, his discomfort clear. He turned back to his team, shaking his head. "I don't think—"

Before he could finish, the woman decided to make her way over, her steps uneven, a clear sign of her inebriation. Garcia and JJ exchanged a glance, their initial enthusiasm dimming as they watched the scene unfold.

"Hey there, handsome," the woman slurred as she approached Hotch, her voice loud enough to draw the attention of nearby patrons. "I saw you staring. Buy me a drink?"

Hotch stood, his FBI training kicking in to manage the situation with politeness mixed with firmness. "I believe you’ve had enough for tonight," he said, his voice low and calm.

The woman pouted, leaning closer, her sense of personal space clearly compromised by alcohol. "Oh, come on, don't be such a party pooper."

From the table, Rossi raised an eyebrow, his expression one of concern as he watched Hotch handle the delicate situation. Prentiss covered her mouth, trying to hide her cringe, while Morgan finally stood, ready to intervene.

"Ma'am, I think you need to go back to your friends," Morgan said, steering her gently but firmly by the elbow.

As the woman was guided away, muttering under her breath, Hotch sat back down, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The team was silent for a moment, the previous mirth replaced by a shared awkwardness.

Garcia finally broke the silence, her voice soft. "I’m sorry, Hotch. That was not what we expected."

JJ nodded, adding, "Yeah, we just thought...I don’t know what we thought."

Hotch managed a small smile, appreciating their intentions despite the outcome. "It’s okay. I know you both mean well." His gaze shifted to his glass, his mind not on the failed attempt at matchmaking, but on the quiet realization that perhaps he wasn’t quite as ready as they hoped he’d be to jump back into the dating scene.

The team spent the rest of the evening avoiding any further matchmaking attempts, focusing instead on stories from past cases and plans for the weekend. Hotch listened, occasionally contributing, but mostly he appreciated the laughter and the familiar, comforting presence of his team.

As they left the bar later that evening, Hotch felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder--Rossi’s silent support. "You'll know when it’s time, Aaron," Rossi said quietly, his voice carrying a weight of understanding.

Hotch nodded, the night’s air cool and refreshing as it cleared the remnants of the bar’s claustrophobia. "Thanks, Dave," he said, feeling a little lighter. Despite the evening’s missteps, the bond with his team had never felt stronger. He knew they had his back, in the field and beyond, and that was enough--for now.

But then it happened again and Hotch began to feel cornered by his own team. It was getting a bit ridiculous, if you asked him.

The dull roar of the jet’s engines served as a backdrop to the team's winding down conversations, each member settling into their seats, weary yet content after a successful case closure. As the aircraft hummed its way through the skies, Derek Morgan turned his attention towards his teammates, a grin spreading across his face as he hatched another of his well-intentioned plans.

“Alright, gentlemen,” Derek began, his voice filled with a conspiratorial warmth, “I say this weekend, we do a guys’ night out. Just us, some good food, maybe a few drinks, and see what kind of trouble we can find.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, a silent question hanging in the balance as he met Derek’s gaze. He appreciated Derek’s efforts, always aimed at lightening the mood or bringing them together off the clock, but the idea of a night focused on meeting women wasn’t particularly appealing.

Rossi, who had been quietly reading a book, looked up with a smirk. “Speak for yourself, Morgan. I don’t need wingmen,” he said, his voice smooth and confident. “And I doubt Aaron here needs one either. When he’s ready, he’s ready. No pressure needed.”

Derek laughed, turning to Reid, who was absently shuffling some papers. “What about you, pretty boy? You think you got game?”

Reid looked up, blinking behind his glasses. “I-I suppose I could… that is to say, I have read extensively on social dynamics and interpersonal—”

“Spencer, if you have to quote a study, it’s not game,” Hotch interjected, a rare, teasing tone in his voice as he shared a knowing look with Rossi.

Reid’s cheeks tinged pink, but his lips curved into a smile. “Well, I might surprise you,” he countered, the mock offense clear in his tone.

The banter lightened Hotch’s mood, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as the familiar and comforting dynamic of their team played out around him. It was these moments, simple and unadorned, that reminded him of what mattered most.

Derek clapped his hands together, his smile broadening. “Alright, it’s settled then. We’ll table the wingman idea for now, but we’re still doing guys’ night, agreed?”

“Agreed,” Rossi and Reid chimed in, their voices overlapping.

Hotch nodded, feeling a sense of relief at the postponement of the original plan. “Agreed,” he added, his voice firm yet grateful.

As the conversation drifted to other topics, Hotch leaned back in his seat, his gaze fixed on the dark window, reflecting the soft interior lights of the jet. The thought of venturing back into the world of dating remained daunting, a distant shore he wasn’t quite ready to explore.

It seemed like not-subtle attempt, after not-subtle attempt, Hotch felt like he was getting further and further away from the idea of wanting to meet someone.

Hotch's reluctance to step back into the dating world was not born of fear, nor was it due to a lack of interest in companionship. Rather, it was the weight of his past--a tapestry woven with profound love and devastating loss--that anchored him. The memories of Haley, vibrant and alive, contrasted sharply with the harrowing night of her death. Then there was Beth, a chapter that had closed gently, but still a loss that added layers to his guarded heart.

As he sat there, his eyes occasionally flickering to the photos of Jack on his desk, Hotch considered the complexities of introducing someone new into their lives. Jack, now a teenager, was his priority, and any disruption that could unsettle the stable life he had fought so hard to provide was a risk Hotch was hesitant to take.

The responsibilities of his role at the BAU further complicated matters. His job was not just a career; it was a calling--one that demanded everything of him, including long hours and the mental toll of delving into the darkest corners of human behavior. How could he find or ask someone to understand that? Hotch's brow furrowed as he considered this. How could he bring someone into this world--his world--where danger was a constant companion and where the balance between life and death was often precariously thin?

Hotch was lost in the meticulous review of case files when the whirlwind known as Penelope Garcia burst into his office, her tablet clutched like a treasure chest of mischief. Her arrival was usually heralded by her exuberant chatter or the bright clash of her eclectic fashion, but today it was her wide grin that signaled she was up to something particularly Garcia-esque.

"Hotch, you are not going to believe what I've done!" she exclaimed, barely containing her excitement as she approached his desk.

Hotch looked up, his expression a blend of wariness and resignation. "Garcia, please tell me you haven't hacked into another government database." He thought this moment itself could take years off his life.

"No, silly!" She waved off the comment with a flick of her wrist. "Something much better. I've signed you up for a dating app!" She beamed, clearly proud of her handiwork.

Hotch’s eyebrows knitted together in concern. "Garcia, you know how dangerous those can be. I have no business being on a dating app."

"Oh, come on, Hotch! This is how people meet nowadays. It's all very safe, and you can be upfront about what you're looking for through DMs!" Garcia explained, her enthusiasm undimmed.

"DMs?" Hotch frowned, his confusion evident.

"Direct messages, Hotch. Keep up!" She tapped on her tablet, pulling up a profile that Hotch hoped against hope wasn’t his. His hope was in vain.

Garcia turned the tablet toward him, revealing a profile complete with photos of Hotch that looked suspiciously candid and slightly dated. "See? I even picked your best photos. This one's from that beach vacation you took ten years ago. You're shirtless! It's gold, Hotch, pure gold."

Hotch stared at the photo, his mind racing back to a much simpler time. "Garcia, I barely even look like that anymore. Where did you even find this?"

"In the deep recesses of the BAU annual trip photo archive thingy," she quipped, winking. "And everyone needs at least bathing suit photo, Hotch. It's like an unwritten rule of dating apps."

Garcia proceeded to scroll through the profile, pointing out the interests she had listed for him. "Look, I put down that you love long walks on the beach, are an aficionado of fine wines, and have a passion for rare book collecting."

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. "Garcia, I’ve never collected a book in my life, unless case files count."

She shrugged, undeterred. "Details, Hotch, details. It's all about selling the dream."

Despite his frustration, a small smile tugged at the corners of Hotch's mouth. Only Garcia could get away with this level of audacity. She gleefully showed him how to use the app, swiping through various screens before downloading it onto his phone with practiced ease.

As Garcia finally left his office, still bubbling with excitement, Hotch looked down at the app icon on his phone. He couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, this could be a good thing. Shaking his head, he chuckled softly to himself. "Only Garcia," he muttered, his annoyance fading to a fond exasperation.

Left alone with his new digital dating life, Hotch tapped on the app, curiosity overcoming his initial reluctance. As he scrolled through the interface, the absurdity of the situation struck him, and he couldn't help but let out a genuine laugh. Maybe exploring this new world wouldn’t be so bad, especially if it gave him more stories to share with Garcia--just maybe not the ones she was hoping for.

One night soon after, Hotch made it home at a reasonable (well, still very late) time--reasonable for him. He settled into the unusual quiet of his apartment, the absence of Jack's lively presence making the space seem larger and more silent than usual. With a sigh, he resigned himself to a solitary evening--a rare slice of downtime that was both welcome and unnerving.

After a moment of hesitation, curiosity nudged him towards the dating app that Garcia had enthusiastically installed on his phone. He still harbored reservations about the entire concept, but with the night stretching empty before him, the app seemed like a harmless diversion..

Sitting comfortably on his couch, Hotch opened the app and began navigating through it with a tentative curiosity. The light from his phone cast a soft glow in the dim room as he scrolled through profiles, his face a mask of concentration.

Methodically, he started tweaking his profile, softening Garcia's more flamboyant embellishments to reflect his true nature. He made it clear he was a devoted father and that his--undisclosed to the app--job was demanding, requiring anyone interested to understand the stakes of his career. His description was straightforward--seeking a meaningful connection with someone who could appreciate the complexities of his life.

As he swiped through the profiles, Hotch's brow furrowed slightly. Many were immediately unsuitable--too young, too flashy, or just too far from what he felt comfortable with. One profile made him pause, the woman's intense stare and array of self-purchased tactical gear a bit too reminiscent of an unsub profile he'd studied just weeks before.

But then, he swiped to the next profile, and everything stopped. The woman's photos--your photos exuded warmth and sincerity, your smile genuine, reaching your eyes and lighting up your entire face.

Your description was simple yet profound, speaking of your love for literature, your passion for teaching, and your volunteer work with children. It wasn't just your physical appearance that caught his attention--it was the evident kindness and intelligence that shone through your words.

Hotch's finger hovered over the screen for a moment before he decided to swipe right, feeling a strange surge of hope. The screen flashed, and the word "Match!" appeared. A small, surprised smile touched his lips. It was the first profile he had responded to positively, and the immediate match was unexpected.

For a moment, Hotch stared at the screen, the implications of the match settling in. This was uncharted territory for him, stepping into a world of potential and possibilities. With a deep breath, he opened the messaging feature, contemplating his first words to you. He wanted to convey sincerity and interest, a reflection of the authenticity that had drawn him to your profile in the first place.

As he typed out a simple greeting, careful to be both respectful and engaging, Hotch felt a flicker of something like excitement—or perhaps it was just the thrill of new beginnings. Whatever it was, it felt right, and for the first time in a long time, Aaron Hotchner allowed himself to feel cautiously optimistic about the path unfolding before him.

The digital conversation was new territory for him, each notification a pulse of unfamiliar excitement. When your reply came, it was both thoughtful and warm, sparking a connection that seemed to transcend the mere pixels of his screen.

As the messages exchanged grew more frequent and personal, Hotch admitted, somewhat reluctantly, that he was a novice in the realm of online dating. He explained how his work shaped his cautious view on things like dating apps, and he confessed that it was his team’s encouragement that led him here.

You responded with understanding, echoing his sentiments about the unusual path that brought you both to this app, yet expressing a selfish gladness that his coworkers had nudged him into this new experience. It was a sentiment Hotch couldn’t help but share, feeling a connection building that was both surprising and delightful.

The conversation naturally flowed, and soon, you suggested shifting from texting to something more personal. "I'm not much for messaging," you wrote, "Would you be up for a video call instead?"

Hotch felt a wave of relief wash over him. Navigating the app was one thing, but speaking to someone, hearing their voice, that was familiar ground. He agreed eagerly, and within moments, he was waiting for the call to connect, his heart rate subtly quickening.

He was glad this didn’t allow for much time to think in between--he’d be afraid he would talk himself out of it. Find a million reasons why he shouldn’t be doing this.

When your face appeared on his screen, the connection was instantaneous. You were even more captivating in motion, your smile lighting up the digital space between you. Hotch found himself momentarily lost for words, taken aback by how the interaction felt so natural, so right.

"Hi," he started, his voice steadier than he felt. "I hope it’s okay to say this, but you’re even more beautiful than your pictures."

You laughed, a sound that was both melodic and grounding, easing the last of Hotch's nerves. "Thank you, Aaron. You're quite the charmer yourself."

As the conversation unfolded, the chemistry was undeniable. You both shared stories, your laughter mingling through the airwaves, bridging the physical distance with ease. Hotch, typically reserved, found himself opening up about aspects of his life that he seldom discussed outside his closest circles.

You were a professor at a university. A bit younger than him, but did not seem phased by that--especially considering his age, height, along with way too many other physical details, were displayed on his profile.

Encouraged by the undeniable connection, Hotch took a breath before voicing a thought that had been on his mind since the call began. "I don’t mean to be forward, but I would really like to meet you in person. Would you like to go out for dinner this week?"

Your smile broadened, and it was all the confirmation Hotch needed. "I'd love to, Aaron. That sounds wonderful."

Plans were made for a dinner later that week, the details ironed out with mutual enthusiasm. As the call ended, Hotch sat back, a sense of accomplishment and anticipation settling over him. He hadn’t expected this when he first opened the app, but now, he couldn’t deny the potential that lay ahead.

He placed his phone down, his mind replaying moments from the call, each laugh and shared story a promise of possibilities.

Hotch’s mind was a tumult of apprehension as he prepared for the evening. Each scenario he imagined was tinged with the occupational hazard of suspecting the worst. Yet, he meticulously chose his attire, settling on a sharp, dark suit that matched his formal, reserved nature. Despite the nerves, a part of him--the part trained to face unknowns head-on--compelled him forward.

He arrived at the restaurant punctually, the ambiance a blend of soft lighting and quiet chatter, ideal for a meaningful first date. Standing at the entrance, he scanned the area for you, his heart rate ticking upward not out of fear, but anticipation.

When he finally saw you, everything else fell away. You were waiting at the table, looking up from your menu with a smile that drew him in completely. As he approached, Hotch felt the last of his doubts dissolve, replaced by an unexpected surge of hope.

"Hi," he greeted, voice steady despite the whirlwind inside. "You look incredible."

You stood to meet him, extending a confident hand that he shook gently. "Thank you, Aaron. You're quite dashing yourself. I’m so glad to meet you in person."

As you both sat, the conversation began to flow naturally between the ordering of drinks and dishes. Hotch found himself genuinely smiling, engaged by your insights and humor. Almost forgetting that this was someone who had been a total stranger to him not long before.

"So, you're a professor?" he inquired, genuinely interested. He remembered you mentioning it briefly in your first initial conversation.

"Yes, I teach literature. I like to think of myself as a life-long learner and to be able to share words and pages that shaped so many lives--it’s incredible," you explained, your eyes lighting up with enthusiasm.

"That sounds extremely rewarding," Hotch commented, noting the passion in your voice. "It must be fascinating to see students develop their understanding over a semester."

"It is," you agreed. "And what about you? I know you work for the DOJ, but what does that entail day-to-day?"

Hotch hesitated, weighing how much to share, before deciding on honesty--he couldn’t deny that your presence…your aura made it easy to want to share. "It's challenging. My job can be intense--managing cases, leading a team. But it's fulfilling, knowing we're making a difference."

You nodded thoughtfully, sipping your glass of wine and looking at him over the rim of the glass. "It sounds like you're very dedicated. I admire that."

The conversation shifted seamlessly to lighter topics, and eventually to Jack. "He's staying with a friend tonight," Hotch mentioned. "He's growing up fast, involved in sports, school...it keeps us both busy."

"It sounds like you're a great father," you noted, your tone warm. "Balancing such a demanding job and raising him."

Hotch appreciated the compliment, feeling a flush of pride. "I try my best. Jack is my priority. It’s just us two."

As the dinner progressed, there was a mutual, comfortable--and natural--level of flirting that neither of you shied away from. You leaned in slightly, your interest clear as you spoke, "I must say, Aaron, I was a bit nervous about this date, I’ve never been on a date from an app before…but you've made this evening truly enjoyable."

Hotch mirrored your movement, leaning in, driven by a rare impulse to connect. "I can honestly say the same. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I'm glad I came tonight."

The evening ended with a promise to see each other again, both of you reluctant to part ways after such a promising start. As Hotch walked you to your car, he felt a lightness he hadn't experienced in years.

"Thank you for tonight," he said, standing a bit closer. "I'm looking forward to seeing you again soon."

"I'd like that," you smiled, your confidence and warmth evident even in the dim light of the parking lot.

As you drove away, Hotch remained for a moment, watching the taillights fade into the night. He allowed himself a small, hopeful smile, a sense of anticipation for the future blossoming inside him. Tonight, Aaron Hotchner felt not just the skilled agent, but a man stepping into a new chapter of his life, unexpectedly uplifted by the promise of new beginnings.

As Aaron Hotchner and you grew closer, the budding relationship unveiled a lighter side of Hotch, one that had been subdued for years under the weight of responsibility and duty. The dynamic between you was characterized by a playful banter that coaxed smiles and even laughter from the normally stoic FBI agent.

One crisp evening, as you both enjoyed a casual stroll through a local art festival, you pointed at a particularly abstract painting. "So, Aaron, if you were an art critic, what profound analysis would you offer here?"

Hotch studied the painting, his brow furrowng in mock seriousness. "Well," he began, adopting a thoughtful tone, "I would say that the chaotic swirls represent the tumultuous nature of...let's say, choosing the perfect wine to go with dinner."

You laughed, bumping his shoulder lightly with yours. "That sounds suspiciously like last night’s dilemma. Did this piece just speak to your soul?"

He turned to you, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. "It might have. Or maybe it’s reminding me that I should stick to my day job."

The conversation flowed effortlessly as you both shared stories and insights. Later, sitting at a small café, Hotch opened up about his work with a rare openness, prompted by your genuine interest and lack of judgment.

"You know, most people get intimidated when I talk about my job," Hotch admitted, stirring his coffee slowly.

"You're not just your job, Aaron," you responded, smiling warmly. "Though, I must admit, it’s a pretty impressive part of who you are. But I’m more interested in the man who can quote Shakespeare and knows his way around an impressive omelet."

Hotch’s smile was genuine, a little wider this time. "Well, I could say the same about a woman who can discuss Renaissance literature and beat me in a game of chess."

As the evening wore on, Hotch found himself sharing more than he usually allowed. The topic of fatherhood--the most important part of his identity, always seemed to weave his way through. And now, having a teenager, a wise teenager, it didn’t take long before Jack picked up on the fact that Hotch was seeing someone.

"Jack’s been asking about you," he said cautiously, observing your reaction.

"Is that so?" you grinned, clearly pleased. "And what exactly have you told him about me?"

"That his dad is spending time with a very smart, beautiful, and funny woman who might just be a worse cook than I am."

Your laughter filled the space between you, and Hotch felt a warmth that went beyond the ambient glow of the café’s lights. "Challenge accepted. I’ll have you know, my culinary skills are...in development."

The playful back-and-forth continued, with each exchange gently peeling back layers of Hotch's reserved exterior. It was clear to both of you that something significant was taking root--something filled with potential and promise.

As you parted ways that evening, Hotch felt an ease and contentment that was new and invigorating. "I'm looking forward to our next culinary showdown," he teased, his tone light but sincere.

"And I, for one, can’t wait to see what other hidden talents you have, Agent Hotchner," you replied, your voice playful yet affectionate.

Walking back to his car, Hotch allowed himself a rare, contented smile. This new chapter with you was unfolding into something unexpectedly wonderful, showing him that life could indeed be vibrant and full of surprises, even for someone as grounded in reality as SSA Aaron Hotchner.

After an elegant evening at the theater, Aaron Hotchner found himself walking with you to the car under a starlit sky, the air crisp and cool, perfect for the light jackets you both wore. The play had been a profound one, sparking rich conversation between the two of you that continued as you strolled. Your love for classic literature and his lost love for theatre combined.

Hotch, typically reserved, felt an unusual flutter of anticipation mixed with a warmth that had grown steadily since the night began.

He had thought about this often, but never felt the need to bring it up--in due time, he thought, but tonight…tonight felt like it was due.

"You know," Hotch began, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of emotion, "I can't believe we've been seeing each other for this long, and I haven’t even—"

You turned to face him, a teasing sparkle in your eyes. "Haven’t even what, Aaron?"

He paused, looking into your eyes which were reflecting the soft streetlights. "Kissed you," he admitted, the words feeling more significant as they hung in the air between you.

Your smile widened, and you stepped a little closer, diminishing the space between you. "Is Aaron Hotchner nervous about a kiss?" you asked playfully, tilting your head as you gazed up at him.

The corner of Hotch's mouth lifted in a half-smile, a rare show of his lighter side that you had slowly uncovered. "Maybe," he confessed, his usual confidence tempered with a vulnerability he rarely showed. "But only because it feels important."

"It is," you agreed softly, your hand finding his. "But only because it’s you."

That was all the encouragement Hotch needed. He leaned down, his heart beating a touch faster as his lips met yours in a gentle, searching kiss. It was a kiss that started tentatively but grew more confident as you responded, your hands moving up to lightly grasp his jacket.

The world seemed to quiet around you, the buzz of the city fading into a distant hum. Hotch’s free hand came up to gently cup your cheek, his touch tender yet certain. The kiss deepened, stirring a warmth that spread through his entire body, a feeling of rightness that was both exhilarating and calming.

When you finally parted, both of you were slightly breathless, a flush on your cheeks that matched the one on Hotch’s. You laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears.

"So, was it everything you hoped it would be?" you teased, your eyes dancing with mirth.

Hotch, still holding you close, nodded. "Even more," he said sincerely. "I think using that app might have been one of the best decisions I've ever made."

Your laughter rang out again, joyous and free. "Just for the record, you're the only one I ever made it on a date with," you shared, giving him a playful nudge.

"And you were the only one I ever messaged," Hotch revealed, his usual stoicism warmed by the affection in his voice. "I guess we both got incredibly lucky."

The drive to bring you home was filled with a comfortable silence, punctuated by shared looks and soft smiles. When he stopped at your place, Hotch leaned over to kiss you again, this time with a confidence borne of the shared connection that had only deepened since the first.

"Goodnight," he said, his voice low and filled with a promise of more to come.

"Goodnight, Aaron," you replied, your hand squeezing his for a moment longer before you stepped out,

As Hotch drove away, his mind replayed every moment of the evening, each memory a treasure. He realized, with a clarity that was almost startling, just how much he had come to care for you.

Days later, Hotch sat solemnly at the round table, his usual composed demeanor slightly offset by an underlying layer of disappointment. As the team geared up for an abrupt deployment to handle a pressing case, Hotch couldn't help but think about the dinner plans he had to cancel with you. He had been looking forward to a relaxing evening, a rare chance to step away from the demands of his job and focus on the burgeoning relationship that had become a significant source of joy in his life.

"I'm sorry, I can't make it tonight," Hotch had said over the phone earlier, his voice carrying a weight of regret.

"It's okay, Aaron," you had responded, your tone light and teasing. "I'll just have to spend the evening sending you flirty texts instead. Stay safe, and catch the bad guys, okay?"

Despite your understanding and playful reassurance, the disappointment lingered. As the team discussed logistics and profiles, Hotch's mind wandered momentarily, reflecting on the personal sacrifices that came with his role at the FBI.

Suddenly, Garcia's voice snapped him back to reality. "Hotch, you seem more down about this trip than usual. Anything you want to share with the class?" Her tone was lightly teasing but underscored with genuine concern.

Hotch cleared his throat, shifting slightly in his seat. "It's nothing," he started to dismiss, hoping to steer back to the case details.

But Garcia, ever perceptive, wouldn't let it go that easily. She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing playfully. "No, no, no, this has to be something good. Wait! Did you meet someone on the dating app?"

The room quieted, all eyes suddenly on Hotch. The surprise on his team's faces was palpable, a mix of curiosity and amusement.

Hotch sighed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he realized there was no dodging Garcia's sharp intuition. "Yes, I met someone."

"And I can tell he's incredibly happy," Garcia added, her voice squealing with excitement, filling the room with her infectious energy.

The team erupted in a mixture of chuckles and supportive remarks. "Hotch on a dating app, now that's something I didn't see coming," Morgan commented with a grin.

Rossi raised an eyebrow, his expression one of mock seriousness. "So, this is serious then?"

"It's...going well," Hotch admitted, allowing himself a small moment of vulnerability in front of his team. "And yes, I'm happy. It's just hard balancing the job with personal life sometimes. I forgot how difficult it is to cancel on someone you--someone you're starting to care a lot about."

The team's demeanor softened, understanding the conflict Hotch felt. Prentiss leaned in, her voice gentle. "We get it, Hotch. But it sounds like she does too. That's a good sign, right?"

Hotch nodded, appreciative of the support. "It is. She's very understanding. Makes it a bit easier."

Garcia beamed, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Oh, I need to know everything. When we get back, you're giving me details, Hotch. Deal?"

Hotch couldn't help but laugh, the sound rare enough to cause a few surprised looks. "Deal, Garcia."

After all, he did feel like he owed Garcia…so much in this moment for if it wasn’t for her, he’d never had met you.

Throughout the duration of a challenging and complex case, Aaron Hotchner found moments of reprieve through the buzz of his phone. Each notification a reminder of the intriguing connection he’d developed with you.

Your texts, infused with lightness and wit, became small beacons of joy amid the high-pressure environment of his work.

One evening, as he and the team were wrapping up a long day of interviews and evidence analysis, Hotch’s phone vibrated with a new message from you. He glanced around--most of the team was absorbed in their tasks--and allowed himself a moment to read your text.

"Thinking of a proper celebration for when you get back...Maybe we can explore the possibility of moving past just kisses? I have a few ideas I think you’d approve of..."

The message was smooth, playful yet suggestive, and it caught Hotch off guard. He felt a flush of warmth spread through him, a mixture of anticipation and slight disarray, emotions he usually kept neatly compartmentalized.

Sitting back in his chair, Hotch let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh.

It was rare for him to connect with someone so deeply that thoughts of them could so easily unsettle his usual stoic demeanor. Yet, you did just that, and he found himself not only accepting this new dynamic but eagerly looking forward to what it promised.

He typed a response, his fingers pausing above the keyboard as he considered how best to reply. Finally, he settled on a message that matched your playful tone while still holding onto his inherent reserved nature.

"Exploring new possibilities sounds like an excellent plan. I’ll look forward to your ideas... very much so."

Sending the text, Hotch felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It was an unfamiliar sensation to look forward to personal plans with such anticipation, but it was one he found increasingly appealing.

As he pocketed his phone and returned his focus to the case files spread out before him, Hotch’s thoughts momentarily drifted to what awaited him upon his return. The prospect of deepening his relationship with you brought a sense of excitement he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Even amidst the demanding rhythms of his job, Hotch found himself counting down the days until he could see you again, eager to explore the new dimensions of their relationship. The playful, flirtatious exchanges were more than just brief escapes from his responsibilities; they were reminders of the burgeoning connection that might just redefine his understanding of balance between his dedication to his work and his personal life.

After wrapping up the demanding case, Hotch found himself outside your apartment, his anticipation a palpable presence within him. He had been thinking about this moment throughout the flight back--about you, about the promise of what lay ahead. The door opened to your welcoming smile, and any remaining trace of professional tension melted away as he stepped inside.

For the first time in a long time, he felt like he could leave work at the door.

The evening unfolded effortlessly, as if every moment were simply meant to be. Dinner was a shared endeavor, filled with laughter and gentle touches that spoke louder than words. As the night deepened, so did the connection between you, pulling you both inevitably toward a more intimate closeness that felt both exhilarating and utterly right.

Later, wrapped in the warmth and softness of your bed, Hotch lay beside you, his arm securely around you, feeling the comforting weight of your head against his chest. The room was quiet, the only sound the gentle breath of two people content in each other's presence. It was a profound intimacy that Hotch had rarely allowed himself to experience, yet with you, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"You know," Hotch began, his voice soft and thoughtful, "I never imagined that downloading an app would lead me here, to this moment. But I'm incredibly glad it did."

You shifted slightly, turning to face him. In the dim light, he noticed a hint of shyness in your expression--an unusual trait for someone usually so vibrant and confident. "Aaron, I need to tell you something, and I’m a little afraid it might be too soon...or…or how you might react."

He tightened his embrace reassuringly. "Sweetheart, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

You nodded, taking a deep breath before speaking. "It's just that...I've never connected with anyone like this before. Not from a dating app, not in real life. Like I feel crazy. And it scares me a little because I think I’m falling in love with you."

Hotch’s heart skipped a beat, not just at your words but at the earnest vulnerability with which you spoke them. For a brief moment, he was speechless, overwhelmed by the depth of his own feelings that mirrored yours.

"I’ve been trying to make sense of it all myself," he confessed, his voice a whisper against your hair. "This isn’t just unusual for me; it’s unprecedented. But hearing you say that...it’s exactly how I feel. I’m falling in love with you, too."

Relief and joy mingled in your eyes, and you moved closer, pressing a kiss to his chest--a simple, sweet gesture that sealed the words just shared. Hotch felt a profound peace settle over him, the kind that came from finding something real and true.

As you both lay there, entwined in the quiet aftermath of shared revelations, the world outside seemed inconsequential. In that room, with the soft glow of the nightlight casting gentle shadows, Aaron Hotchner wasn’t just an FBI agent or a guarded widower; he was a man deeply in love, grateful for every unpredictable twist of fate that had led him to you.

"You know," you whispered, a playful twinkle returning to your voice, "this is going to make a great story someday--how a skeptical FBI agent fell for a girl from a dating app."

Hotch chuckled, the sound rich and content. "It’s a story I look forward to telling again and again," he agreed, pulling you closer.

As days turned into months, Hotch experienced a transformation in his daily life--a lightness and joy that were new and profoundly delightful.

Your relationship flourished; the connection deepened with each passing moment you spent together. Jack met you and took an immediate liking to you, his youthful judgment never faltering. The integration of you into his and Jack’s life felt seamless, natural, like pieces of a puzzle that had been waiting to find their place.

You were fiercely independent and career-driven, qualities that resonated deeply with Hotch. The balance between your professional pursuits and personal life mirrored his own, creating a perfect symmetry that allowed both of you to thrive without sacrificing the bond growing between you.

Reflecting on this, Hotch couldn’t help but think back to several months ago when his team, especially Penelope Garcia, had pushed him to step out into the dating world. He was immensely grateful for their encouragement--grateful that Garcia had practically coerced him into using the dating app that brought you together.

Once (and due to his line of work, pretty much always will be) a skeptic of dating apps, he now sung its praise, in a…cautious way. It was praised enough that in a very Rossi-fashion, David Rossi bought stock in the app, Hotch and your love story solidifying the need to.

Now, seated at his desk in the quiet hum of the FBI offices, Hotch decided to express his love and appreciation in a tangible way. He opened a florist’s website, browsing through the selections to find something that captured the essence of what you meant to him.

Settling on a bouquet of wildflowers--bright, beautiful, and unpretentiously elegant--he filled out the delivery form to send them to your workplace. The note attached was simple but heartfelt: "For no reason other than I love you. Aaron."

With a contented sigh, Hotch then organized a second floral arrangement, this one for Garcia. He chose vibrant sunflowers and daisies, flowers as bright and cheerful as Garcia herself. The note for her was equally thoughtful: "Penelope, thank you for pushing me onto that (still questionable) app. I am forever grateful. - Hotch."

As he confirmed the orders, his colleague Morgan passed by his desk, noticing the slight smile on Hotch’s usually stoic face. "What's got you looking so happy, Hotch? That doesn't look like case work."

Hotch looked up, the smile still playing on his lips. "Can’t I just take a moment to appreciate the good things, Morgan?"

Morgan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Good things, huh? Does this have anything to do with that special lady I’ve been hearing about?"

"You could say that," Hotch replied, his tone light, an uncommon but genuine warmth evident in his expression. "And I’m also sending Garcia some flowers."

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Man, Garcia’s matchmaking really worked out for you, didn’t it? Never thought I'd see the day. She’s never going to let this one down."

"It did," Hotch acknowledged, his thoughts drifting back to you. "And it’s made all the difference."

After Morgan left, Hotch leaned back in his chair, allowing himself a few moments of quiet reflection. He felt a profound sense of gratitude--not just for the love and joy you brought into his life, but for the unexpected journey that led him to you.

It was a reminder of the unpredictable beauty of life, how sometimes, taking a chance could lead to something extraordinary.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016 @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader #kiwriteswords #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminalminds #aaronhotchner #Aaron Hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner reader insert #criminal minds fluff #hotch x you

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neptuneiris · 3 days ago

Text

Champion | (One-shot)

Everybody is a Ferrari Fan

pairing: driver!aemond (Formula One) x wag!reader

summary: runs in the family to get into the F1 fanaticism, where you not only learn about engines, racing teams, championships and drivers, but you also meet a certain driver who is currently getting a lot of recognition; Ferrari driver, the Sapphire Prince, Aemond Targaryen.

words: 12.5k

my masterlist

sé que prácticamente ya será Febrero, pero feliz año nuevo atrasado! espero que les guste esto, pero primero quiero agradecerle a mi bestie @silverdragonfly for giving me the idea to write this Formula One AU, she also writes amazing stories so go support her ❤

also, if you don't know anything about F1, don't worry, you can still read it since i didn't add so many terms and if there are, i made sure to put a simple and easy to understand explanation. still, the fic is more about the relationship between the driver and his wag. enjoy!

warnings: language, sexual content, smut.

The Formula One has won over thousands of fans all over the world with its incredible races where drivers compete and fight to be the world champion.

It is one of the most expensive, exclusive and prestigious sports in the world, where unforgettable experiences are lived in the world of motor racing with ten teams and two drivers belonging to each one, for a total of twenty drivers.

The sport has gained more popularity in recent years with its impressive and thrilling races. Not to mention the talented drivers. Your family, especially your dad, has always had an interest and fascination for the sport.

And who knew that you would also become a fan once you really paid attention and your dad would also explain the basics of understanding racing and how it works.

But not only that… the sport also literally took over your heart.

It was last year, at the Monaco Grand Prix near your home in France, that you went with your dad to experience it. Your dad, being a millionaire businessman, can afford such luxuries. And at that time you were on vacation from college, so why not?

Your dad got a paddock pass for him and for you. A whole VIP experience with a privileged location over the garages of the teams, with a view of the starting grid, the pits, access to the backstage area and also with the opportunity to see and meet the drivers.

You really only went to that Grand Prix knowing the basics. And being right there, watching the race live, helped you understand more concepts and moves, and it was a truly amazing experience.

Until, of course, your dad wanted to meet the drivers and take a look at the garage of his favorite team; Red Bull.

It was in that area that you saw him, Aemond Targaryen. Number 08, Scuderia Ferrari, the Sapphire Prince.

You already knew the drivers. And you weren't excited to meet any of them in particular. Until, well, you saw him and the urge to talk to him, get close to him, at least ask for a picture, was too much.

Seeing him in pictures and videos was one thing but now seeing him in person…it was breath taking.

Silver hair, pronounced jawline, pointed nose, sharp and very well detailed features, besides a charming smile making him look like some kind of Greek God… you fell for him.

Everyone is a Ferrari fan. And at that moment, you understood very well why. Not just because of the famous team, but because of the drivers who represent it. And Aemond Targaryen represents it just right.

His talent for motor racing keeps him as one of the best drivers of the last seasons. So far this year, in most Grand Prix he had stood on Podium as third or second place and in other races, he had already won four.

“Oh, it's that boy… Targaryen.”

Your dad had said next to you, pointing him out into the short distance.

Aemond was signing some T-shirts and hats with fans, so your father slowly approached and you followed him, watching him captivated and attentive, inevitably starting to feel quite nervous without knowing exactly why.

Roger, your dad's friend and also one of the many important workers in Formula One, leads you both in the direction of him to introduce you.

The fans suddenly disappear and the next thing you see, he's shaking hands with your dad.

“…businessman in France, big fan of Formula One and Red Bull,” Roger introduces them, ”And Aemond Targaryen.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Aemond tells him politely, with a small gentle smile on his lips.

“The pleasure is mine, lad. You are indeed incredibly talented.”

“Oh, thank you so much. That means a lot,” he holds a hand to his chest, ”Red Bull huh? But you're also a Ferrari fan,” he says amused, making the conversation more enjoyable.

“Well, it's inevitable,” your dad confesses with a shy little smile.

You both laugh and you're still like… watching him in slow motion.

You watch as he runs a hand through his silver hair, which shimmers in the sunlight, tossing it lightly with those long, pale fingers. And his captivating smile, his blue-gray eyes, the way he speaks, his tone of voice, how good he looks in the red sports suit, everything about him is truly captivating.

“This is my daughter, Y/N.”

Suddenly your dad's voice brings you out of your trance, also as the three of them and especially he watches you inside the small circle you are in.

You quickly compose yourself, about to have a nervous breakdown. Then you smile kindly and extend your hand to him, which he takes instantly.

And if it weren't for the fact that he's holding you and also because you're embarrassed, you would have already fainted the moment he smiles at you.

“Aemond, nice to meet you,” he says smiling at you.

“Nice to meet you.”

You let go of his hand and your dad watches you the whole time with a curious little smile.

“Still no scudder takes hold of her. But I'm slowly getting her to follow in her dad's footsteps.”

´Oh God.´

“Is that true?” Aemond asks you, amused, “Did you already join the Red Bull team after watching the race? Because we can still make a spot for you on the right team.”

You let out a small laugh, feeling your cheeks flush.

“If I join Ferrari, you'll have to teach me all the special moves,” you tell him, with a condescending smile.

“It will be my pleasure,” he tells you, without even hesitating.

And it was at that moment that you liked him the most and you were struck by Aemond Targaryen. You also understood why he has so many fans and the media is so interested in him.

His very genuine personality, his kindness and charisma makes so many people fall for him without even trying.

“Will I see you both again soon?” he asks you and your dad, “We're halfway through the calendar and I'd be happy to see you around again.”

“Sure, we'll try to make a space,” your dad nods.

Obviously the drivers' job is not only to race, but also to attend a lot of interviews, meet a lot of people, attend to their fans and a lot more on each qualifying and race day.

So you and your dad say goodbye to him and Aemond leaves, where instantly people surround him, like his assistant, manager and so on.

“It doesn't look like he had an accident.”

Your dad says suddenly and you watch him almost instantly, talking to Roger.

“Surgeries and rehab.”

“But he hadn't lost his eye?” your dad asks confused, ”That one he has isn't fake?”

“No, it's just rumors. He couldn't see out of that eye for a while, but he didn't lose it. The surgeries saved it. Also with surgery he was able to cover the ugly scar he was left with.”

“Oh,” your dad nods, thoughtfully, ”And how old was he when that happened?”

“Ten.”

This definitely gets your attention but you don't ask your dad any questions. At least, you don't until you're both on your way home, on the plane.

Apparently, in his early days and when he was just beginning to discover his talent for motorsport, Aemond was involved in an accident at the age of ten.

Aemond's dad, the late Viserys Targaryen, was a world champion in his time. He had impressive skill in his youth, being a driver for Williams, then Mercedes and finally Red Bull.

Yes, he was amazing, but only for a time. Still, he was a bad dad.

Scandals were known to surround him regarding his wives and children. Terms like negligence and lack of responsibility always haunted him, even to this day despite his passing.

And Aemond, in an attempt for him to appreciate him and prove to him that he would be a great driver someday, took his car unsupervised to practice and suffered the accident, where he almost lost the sight in his left eye when he was cut with metal from the car in the middle of his face.

You didn't notice anything strange about his face either. But Roger was right. Since he was a little boy he underwent surgeries to forget that accident that almost killed him and almost made him never drive again.

But not only did you keep this information about your dad, you also researched more online about his life and accident, suddenly captivated by Aemond Targaryen.

After the accident and his rehabilitation, at the age of eighteen, he signed a contract for the Hass team in Formula Two.

The difference between Formula One and Formula Two is that in Formula Two the cars are different in terms of engines and power, which are not as powerful as in Formula One. There is also a lower speed limit in the races.

And this is intended to demonstrate the true skill of the drivers at the wheel, rather than the ability of the teams to build superior cars as in Formula One.

Then, he ascended to Formula One to become a driver equally for Hass and finally, he ascended to Ferrari after demonstrating his incredible skills so young and scoring points for both the team and himself, where he has been racing for them for two years.

This and more is what the internet tells you about him and his family. You also learn of an affair he had with a woman, Alys Rivers, apparently older than him and a Formula One worker.

It was a scandal for a while, as the woman is too much older than him and it was supposed to be a secret, until they were discovered.

You also read apparently rumors of ´infidelity´, firing of that woman and that he didn't really claim to have a serious relationship with her or anyone else, so he's single.

You also stalk him a bit on Instagram and unable to help yourself, you follow him. But what you least expected is that he was going to follow you back.

As you get back to college and walk out of one of your classes, you look at your phone and the notification of Aemond Targaryen has started following you pops up.

It was silly to get excited about it as a little girl but you did it anyway. And soon after, the Italian Grand Prix is announced. Races always take place on weekends, so you and your dad again attend a race at Monza, the home of Ferrari.

The whole trip, knowing you'd probably see him again, kept you excited. Until it finally happened.

Walking through the paddock, you spot his silver hair in the distance, obviously with a lot of people around him, with half an hour to go before the start of the race. Your dad is walking next to you and when you are in the same area as him, you pretend not to see him and focus your eyes on everything around you except him.

Totally ridiculous but you want to play it cool.

“Mr. Y/L/N.”

You try to control your emotion and finally look at him, where he politely addresses your dad and you.

“Mr. Targaryen,“ your dad greets him, extending his hand towards him, “How nice to see you before the race.’”

“Aemond, please,” he shakes his hand, then looks at you with a small smile on his lips, ”Hey.”

“Hey,” you smile softly at him.

“How are you feeling, lad? Ready to win today?” your dad says to him, smiling.

“Oh, well, that's the plan,” he nods, letting out a long sigh as he looks around briefly, ”Lots of pressure today.”

“It's Monza, the home of your team. Last year you made it, today you can too, and with a teammate like Sainz, you'll make it.”

“Very kind of you, sir,” he says, holding a hand to his chest, ”Thank you.”

“I wish you the best of luck.”

“Thank you.”

Then, at that moment, you decide to speak.

“You'll come out in third,” you speak softly, your voice quiet but confident, ”You have a good chance.”

He places his small, soft smile in your direction again.

“So you saw the qualifying?” he asks you, his tone playful but curious.

“Yes, we were here,” you reply, without missing a beat.

“Really? I didn't see you around.”

Alert!

Your mind immediately tells you the moment he continues with his eyes so strikingly set on you and that fucking smile on his lips. The way he addresses you, so close, so direct. His smile, his stare, his posture, it's all too much.

“Well, you'll see us from over there…” your dad points to where your seats are, “on the last lap celebrating when you win.”

Aemond suddenly pauses, his eyes darting first to your dad and then to you.

“And you don't want to celebrate in our garage?”

The question hangs in the air, as you stand in shock and disbelief.

You know that those who are allowed in the garage are obviously the whole team and people who know someone within the team who can get them in. Sometimes, celebrities are also allowed access if the team invites them, also the family of the drivers.

And also their girlfriends, or also as they are known; wags.

“Can we?” your dad asks him a bit skeptically.

“Sure,” Aemond says immediately.

“We don't want to get you in trouble—

“It won't be any trouble, sir,” Aemond again assures, ”Besides, it's my chance to make you a Ferrari fan… and your daughter too.”

He adds, giving you a smile and a subtle look that makes it clear that he is playing with being in front of your dad, but he means it.

And you just stare at him, unable to take your eyes off him, where the moment seems to stand still in time. It is so intriguing, so striking, and it envelops you completely. When your dad's voice brings you out of your little trance.

“Well, it's not every day that a Ferrari driver invites someone to his garage,” your dad says, enthusiastically, ”We can't turn down the opportunity.”

Aemond, upon hearing the affirmative answer, smiles in a way that makes his face light up with a confidence that only a driver of his caliber could have.

“Great. It will be my pleasure. Follow me.”

After a few minutes, you and your dad find yourselves in the Ferrari garage, led by the Sapphire Prince.

The atmosphere is electric and striking. The air is charged with concentration, but also with an adrenaline rush that can be felt in every corner of the place.

The roar of the engines in the background, the bustle of engineers and technicians in their suits working on the single-seaters, and the sound of orders traveling through the red headphones with the Ferrari logo create a unique atmosphere.

Everything is perfectly organized in this little chaos that draws you in.

You are both fitted with a new collar with a new card that specifies the rest of your stay to watch the race through the screens right here in the garage. You are also given a complimentary cap and jacket, all in the team's representative color, red.

Aemond guides you through the restricted area, where he watches you over his shoulder as you walk, making sure you follow him without missing a beat.

“So this is the heart of the racing team,” your dad says, in awe, looking at everything around him.

“It's impressive,” you agree, looking around curiously.

You inspect every corner, letting the place envelop you. The red single-seaters, seeming to take on a life of their own under the intense lights.

The glow of the engine, the precise touch of the mechanics' hands, the engineers' strategy… all this is part of a whole that only true fans can understand.

Obviously it's a privilege to see how the whole team prepares for the race and you enjoy it, while Aemond talks to your dad and another man and they explain everything in the garage.

You, on the other hand, stand back a bit and head towards the screens where you can watch the race, which is no different than watching it from the comfort of your own home.

Still, the atmosphere here is totally different.

You stare at the screens, analyzing how they work and seeing that each screen shows a different shot, but they focus more on the two Ferraris. You receive several curious glances from some people who are here, but you don't give them importance.

You look at the clock and it's fifteen minutes before the race starts, so you go back to inspecting all the technical equipment.

“Impressed?”

Aemond's voice comes to you suddenly, causing you to turn to him. He stands next to you and looks at the screens with the same intensity you do.

“Yes,” you admit, with a small smile as you pull back a little so he can see what you're looking at, ”Everything here is so… different.”

“It's just the beginning,” he assures you, ”When the race starts, the whole place gets intense. Especially today.”

You nod, understanding, since they're at Monza and expectations are sky high.

“Nervous?”

“I'd be a fool not to be,” he tells you slightly friendly.

“Sure,” you let out a small laugh, ”With Russell and Norris in the lead and Verstappen right behind you, it's going to be tough.”

“I thought you said I had a chance,” he tells you, a slight smile playing on his lips, but not the typical arrogant one. It's more like a friendly challenge.

“You've got it,” you assure him without hesitation, feeling the rush of confidence wash over you, ”If you do it right.”

He lets out a small laugh.

“Okay… what would you do in my place?” he asks you suddenly.

“Oh n-no, no, I couldn't tell you any of that,” you say instantly, flustered and embarrassed, ”It's not like I—

“Please,” he interrupts you, taking a step closer to you, “I want to hear you.”

You think about it for a moment, watching the grid projected on one of the screens of the F1 TV channel, the perfect medium for those who follow every race from home.

And it's not as if you're an expert on the subject, obviously there are people who are in charge of analyzing all this for the team, the options and the possibilities, deciding which is best to win.

Still, it's not quantum physics, it's something that can be solved with strategy and reasoning.

“Someone of the two has to hold Verstappen off, your teammate or you,” you start to say, pointing at the screen, ”Although moving up from eighth to fourth for Sainz won't be easy either. As for the top positions, Norris is trickier than Russell. He definitely won't want to give way.”

Aemond nods, watching the screen as you do next to you.

“Yeah, it's a tough grid.”

“You could do an undercut,” you suggest, “Or gain even one more position on the grid and leave Norris to Verstappen. But holding those two off, it won't be easy. You'll have to be very fast,” you say, ”What has your team told you?”

He gives you a smile, watching you.

“The same thing you did. Only in different words.”

You let out a small laugh.

“You do know about this kind of stuff, after all,” he adds.

“You don't need to be Einstein to understand either,” you say amused.

“True,” he nods, “Although we'll need a miracle if I want to pass Norris and outrun Verstappen,” he points again to the screen showing the grid.

You take a second, deciding to change the atmosphere.

“What about your lucky charm?” you ask with a light smile, hoping the touch of levity will break the tension a little.

He hisses, bringing a hand to his chin, watching you in amusement.

“Actually… I don't have one.”

“What?” you say instantly, surprised, ”But everyone has one, don't they?”

“I know, I know,” he smiles softly, shrugging, “It's a sentimental thing,” he says nonchalantly, “And I haven't found that something that brings me luck, yet.”

That's unexpected, but it doesn't surprise you. Everything about him is always calculated, logical. And luck never seems to enter into his equations. But then, his gaze softens and he looks at you with a look that you don't quite understand, but still catches your attention.

“Although, maybe…” he says, his tone lower and more personal, “knowing that you'll be here, watching me at all times…” his finger points toward the screens, “that might bring me luck.”

Alert! I repeat, alert!

Your mind again screams as your cheeks flare like never before and you can't help but smile as you lower your gaze, completely flushed.

You can't believe this is really happening. Him flirting with you? You didn't expect that to happen. But it is happening and you don't want to make him see that you've already fallen at his feet since the first time you saw him and talked to him.

So you quickly pull yourself together and look at him with a knowing look and a genuine, subtle little smile.

“Then don't look bad.”

“I won't,” he replies, his tone full of determination.

He looks you up and down as that fucking grin appears on his lips that almost makes you faint. But before he or you can say anything else, at that moment a man calls out to him, announcing that the race will start soon.

“I'll see you when it's over, then,” he tells you before leaving.

“I'll be here,” you assure him, smiling softly.

“Hm…” he cocks his head thoughtfully, watching you, “yeah but you'll need one of these,” he says suddenly, picking up one of the red Ferrari headphones attached to the screens, “So you can listen to them announce my name when I win.”

You're already blushing enough without him telling you this too. And as if that wasn't enough, he puts the headphones on you himself, while you allow it and watch him attentively at all times with your little soft smile, trying not to melt.

And when he's done, he watches you with that satisfied look.

“Much better.”

'Don't faint. Don't faint.'

“Thank you,” you say as you arrange them better in your ears, ”And good luck.”

He gives you a last grin to finally walk away, while you see him in the distance finishing his preparation, where like an expert racer, he puts on the red helmet with the Ferrari logo and finishes making some adjustments to his racing suit to finally get into the car.

As the hours go by, all the Tifosi in Monza go crazy. Red Bull, MacLaren, Mercedes and Ferrari put up a great fight. The race is very intense and exciting, where everyone in the garage is on the edge of their seat to see their two drivers in the lead.

You don't miss a single detail, while your dad next to you also watches the screens with his red headphones on.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't just watching Aemond, but that's what you're doing. You don't know if what he said, about you being his lucky charm, he's taking it seriously but you are, looking forward to seeing him on the podium and as the winner of the race.

Then, there comes that moment where they're in the final laps.

And finally, after an eternity, you hear through your headphones with a huge smile on your lips: Started third on the grid, the Sapphire Prince, is the man of Monza! The tifosi are roaring him home! And for the second time in his career Aemond Targaryen is the winner of the Italian Grand Prix!

Everyone in the garage applauds and hugs each other excitedly, while you watch through the screens as Aemond celebrates and runs towards all his people waiting for him at the starting line, while all the Tifosi out there are shouting and celebrating.

Your dad next to you shakes a few hands, while you continue to watch all the celebration, feeling very happy for him.

You don't expect him to come here. It's impossible. He has interviews to give and he also needs some rest. Then he has to go up to the podium and celebrate. You don't know if you will see him again, but you know it won't be possible on this day.

And even though the thought makes you feel disappointed, you accept it.

You take off your red headphones and together with your dad, you leave the garage to enjoy the podium. The screams and victories of the tifosi fill the air. From where you are you can't see much, so you walk a little further through the crowd, looking for a better place to witness the awards ceremony.

“Excuse me.”

You hear behind you and someone taps your shoulder, so you stop and turn around, seeing a blonde-haired girl with a tablet in her hands and formal attire.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

“Yes?” you say, somewhat confused.

You watch her carefully, as you get the impression you've seen her before, but you can't quite remember where.

“Mr. Targaryen apologizes for not saying goodbye personally,” she says, extending a small card to you, ”But he asked me to deliver this to you. It's the invitation to tonight's victory party. He says he hopes to see you there.”

You take it carefully, surprised. Your gaze rests on the card for a moment before returning to the girl, now remembering that she is his assistant.

And you nod to her gratefully, though your mind is still processing everything that's happening.

“Thank you,” you say, with a small smile.

She nods politely and disappears into the crowd, leaving you with the invitation in your hands. The tumult of tifosi, the shouts and general joy seem to fade for a moment, as if the whole world is focused solely on that card and what it implies.

You glance at your dad, who throws you a questioning look and you, for your part, hold up the card with a slight blush coloring your cheeks.

“That boy likes you, doesn't he?” your dad finally says.

“Dad,” you say embarrassed, not being able to help but grin like a fool.

“You could see it all over his face when you were talking in the garage.”

You let out a small laugh.

“Will you come with me?” you ask him to somehow avoid the subject.

“Me?” he inquires pointing to himself, ”The winner of the race has asked for you. Not for me.”

“Dad,” you reproach him softly.

“Nothing to be ashamed of, my love,” he smiles at you, ”I like that boy.”

'Oh God.'

The night in Monza is perfect.

The lights of the buildings and establishments near the ocean reflect on the water like glints of falling stars and in front of you, docked at one of the most exclusive piers, is the luxurious three-deck yacht where the Ferrari victory party is being held.

From this distance, you can already feel the atmosphere of celebration, laughter, music and the sound of glasses clinking.

You watch the walkway that connects the dock to the imposing yacht, uncertain. You also watch as people continue to arrive at the party, people who look important with their fine clothes and expensive accessories.

And seeing everything, as well as the people already aboard the yacht, you feel insecure.

You mean, you don't feel inferior, this is your world. It's nothing you're not used to. Besides, Aemond Targaryen himself has invited you. However, the feeling of being an outsider among all those people who already know each other is what makes you feel insecure.

You just hope that once you're up there, you won't be all alone.

Finally, you take a deep breath, adjust your dress, steel yourself and walk up there. You wait for the people in front of you to move forward, who are being held back by security men.

You wait patiently and step forward when it's your turn.

“Good evening, miss,” the big man says kindly and you nod with a small smile, ”Name?”

You tell him your name and he checks on the list he has in hand, then nods and gestures to the men behind him to let you in.

“Welcome. Enjoy the party.”

“Thank you.”

The second floor of the yacht is a spectacle in itself, with marble floors, crystal chandeliers hanging like cascades of light, and walls decorated in a modern but warm design.

All around you, animated conversations fill the air, interspersed with the soft clinking of glasses and background music. Guests are spread out on different levels, forming small groups of family, friends and team members.

As you advance, one of the waiters offers you a glass of champagne from a tray and you thank him kindly, taking it.

You continue on your way while looking around, looking for a corner where you won't be in the way. So you head to the small bar, while you pick up your phone, looking at the notifications on your screen and read some messages from your college friend.

You're already there?

Praying for something to finally happen with the sexy driver🙏🏽

Girl, you've got him totally crazy!

You let out a small chuckle under your breath and reply to her message, telling her that you doubt anything will happen because there are too many people. And she quickly replies to you not to be negative, fingers crossed.

You are about to respond when, suddenly, you feel a peculiar and intense gaze fixed on you. And as if you are used to it, you recognize him instantly. You know it's him. Excitement takes hold of you and you turn slowly, looking around you.

And there, a few meters away, next to a group of people, is Aemond.

Pants and a formal black shirt, highlighting his silver hair and the beautiful color of his eyes, as well as his expensive branded watch and a silver chain around his neck, he watches you with a discreet smile and his burning gaze on you.

He looks so handsome and so elegant, that your nerves completely overcome you. But you compose yourself, telling yourself that you just have to be yourself.

When your gazes meet, he says a brief goodbye to those around him and starts walking towards you with a confident stride, as you wait for him with a small soft smile on your lips.

“You came,” he says placing himself in front of you, smiling at you.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you tell him softly, “And congratulations on the victory. It was amazing to see you win, especially here in Italy. The people love you.”

“Thank you. The tifosi are unique. But today they made it special.”

His words, though simple, are loaded with meaning. There is a brief comfortable silence between you, broken by his gaze that seems to study you carefully.

“Also…” he says suddenly, leaning a little closer, his voice taking on a more serious and personal tone, ”I think I've found my lucky charm.”

This catches you off guard and instantly, heat rises to your cheeks before you can control it. Aemond smiles at your reaction, his lips curving into an expression that mixes amusement and tenderness.

“So you meant it,” you tell him softly.

“Of course I meant it,” he tells you, slightly confused, ”You didn't believe me?”

“Yes I did,” you confess, ”But I always had a suspicion that maybe that's what you always tell your conquests.”

He lets out a small laugh, shaking his head.

“No.”

Then he takes a step closer to you, the space between you reduced to almost nothing. And he speaks again, his voice low and soft, laden with a sincerity you feel in every word.

“Only to the pretty girl that I first saw in the paddock at Monaco.”

The way the words slip out so naturally, they disarm you and take your breath away. The intensity of his gaze, that mix of curiosity and as if he's making sure you understand what he really wants to tell you, creates a brief silence between you. Not awkward, but charged with a connection that seems to speak for itself.

“I-I—

“Darling.”

A voice comes toward you, breaking the moment and the silence, as you and Aemond turn your heads instantly, seeing a brown-haired woman with a tall black-haired man at her side.

“Mom,” Aemond says to her at your side.

“Sorry to interrupt but they need you to take some pictures,” she tells him in a soft voice.

Her name is Alicent. You saw her in pictures when you googled Aemond and in person, she is even more beautiful. Her elegant demeanor and intense gaze make it immediately clear that she is a woman accustomed to this kind of event.

And waiting for Aemond to speak, she watches you with a small warm smile and you return it, again feeling instantly nervous.

“Mom, this is Y/N,” Aemond introduces you, “Y/N, my mom Alicent and family friend, Criston,” he points to the man next to him.

“Pleasure to meet you, dear,” she says, extending a hand toward you.

“The pleasure is mine,” you reply, trying to sound as calm as she seems, shaking her hand.

You shake the man's hand as well, smiling kindly.

“She comes from France. She and her dad have come to the races,” Aemond tells her.

“Oh, nice,” she nods, “And your dad has come too?”

“No, he's resting,” you tell her softly, ”We fly back to France tomorrow.”

“Oh, then another time I will have the pleasure of meeting him. What is his name?”

You tell her his name and at that moment, you know what she is doing. In this world, it is of relevance to know what kind of people the driver is interacting with. It's obvious she wants to make sure her son isn't around just any girl and after Alys Rivers, you suppose all the more reason.

And honestly, you don't blame her. Your mom and dad are exactly the same. They want to see you next to a man who is on the same level as you or more, who can contribute. So it's no surprise but still, it makes you nervous.

“I'll be there in a moment,” Aemond tells her, over the photos, “I'll continue to introduce Y/N.”

“Don't be too long.”

She walks away along with that man and he starts directing you around the second floor of the yacht, pointing you out to his coworkers, telling you their names along with a few friends and distant relatives.

“She's my sister, Helaena,” he points out to you in the distance to a beautiful girl with silver hair, talking to a girl with black hair, “She comes with me on every race. She's in love with Oscar Piastri.”

You let out a small laugh, as you both slowly make your way over to her.

“I didn't see her in the garage.”

“She was in another section. She doesn't really like being in the garage,” he explains to you.

“And you have other siblings?”

As if you didn't know.

“Two brothers, Aegon and Daeron,” he nods, ”Aegon is the eldest and doesn't like to draw attention to himself. He decided to live his life quietly, away from all the press, social media and events, but he still supports me. Daeron is the one who wants to become a driver and for now he's practicing.”

“And he's the youngest?” you ask attentively.

“Yes,” he nods, “We have another sister, half sister actually. But we don't see her much, we're not very close to her and her own family. Still she supports us.”

The two approach towards Helaena and you are instantly captivated by her presence. She seems an absolute contrast to her mother, looking more like Aemond. Her silver hair falls in soft waves and her gaze has a dreamy gleam to it, as do her eyes.

“Hel,” her brother calls to her.

Helaena turns to you instantly, her lips curving into a sincere, warm smile.

“Oh, hi.”

“This is Y/N.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” you extend your hand to her.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, shaking your hand.

“Targaryen,” speaks a fourth voice.

The three of you turn your heads and see a man dressed just as formally as the other men here. He says nothing, just watches Aemond and he seems to understand instantly, turning to his sister and you.

“I have to go talk to some people,” he says, then turns to Helaena, ”I'll leave her with you, okay?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“I'll be back soon,” he tells you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Sure,” you nod, trying not to show how much that gesture affects you.

He leaves and you are left alone with Helaena, who smiles at you.

“Come,” she says kindly, leading you to the railing on the second floor of the yacht.

You follow her, enjoying your glass of champagne, as the soft clinking of glasses and distant laughter fills the air. Afterwards, the two of you lean against the railing, gazing at the lights of Monza reflecting off the water.

“Monza is beautiful, isn't it?” she asks you.

“Yes,” you nod, admiring the scenery, ”Really beautiful.”

She sighs.

“I wish it could all be like this,” she says delusionally, longingly, ”Just enjoying the world, without all these sophisticated people, the parties, the press and the constant pressure. Sometimes I feel like I'll never get used to it.”

“Really?” you look at her in surprise, ”But your family has always dominated this world.”

She laughs softly.

“Well… yes, of course, since my father's time,” she nods, “And now Aemond… in his early days, it wasn't easy. He just couldn't quite fit in with so much attention and so many eyes on him, until he did. Now he seems so flawless, so confident that even Daeron is following in his footsteps as well. But I…” she shrugs, “Despite growing up in all of this, I've never felt like I quite fit in.”

“You don't seem to,” you say, sincere, ”You have a very… calm presence. Like nothing can affect you.”

“Thank you,” she smiles softly, ”Though I think that's more because I live in my own world most of the time.”

“It must be hard,” you murmur, admiring her honesty.

“It is,” she nods. “But it has its moments, too. When I'm traveling with Aemond, I feel like I can do something for him. Support him, be there when he needs it. That makes it all worthwhile.”

That makes you smile.

You thought about asking her why she didn't choose to walk away, just like her brother Aegon. But now that she has spoken to you like that about Aemond, you have an idea why she didn't.

You wish you could understand her better too, but you have no brothers or sisters. You're an only child and your dad's only heir.

“And speaking of my little brother… what's up with you and him?” she asks you interestedly, smiling softly.

This catches you off guard and again your cheeks burn, lowering your gaze for a moment.

“N-no, nothing,” you say nervously, ”We've barely met.”

“Still, he doesn't invite hardly anyone to these parties,” she points around, “He doesn't invite just anyone to watch the race in his garage either. Especially not anyone who isn't from the team or family.”

You take a sip of your champagne, nervous and blushing.

“Well… maybe he meant to be nice.”

“Maybe,” she cocks her head, ”But Aemond doesn't do anything just out of kindness. If you're here, it's because he wants you to be here.”

You watch her intently and curiously, that especially getting your attention.

“He's really not playing games with me?”

“No,” she smiles softly “Aemond can be… intense,” she confesses to you, “But he's a good man.”

The next few minutes, Helaena's company is delightful. You both talk about everything; the tifosi, Formula One circuits, some travel, anecdotes about her family, she asks you about yours too and you both get to know each other better. It's easy to chill out in her company and she doesn't make you feel lonely.

She also introduces you to a couple of people, making you feel more comfortable and included.

You see Aemond in different parts talking to different groups of people. He looks busy and also taking pictures, so you don't bother him. You continue touring the party with Helaena, even taking a couple of pictures and enjoying different cocktails.

Afterwards, Helaena is asked to take some pictures too, so she leaves you alone for a few moments. While she finishes, you decide to go up to the terrace on the third floor, where there are no people, to clear your head a little.

With a mojito in hand, you lean against the railing, admiring the view. The cool breeze caresses your face and, for a moment, the hustle and bustle of the party seems a distant echo.

You think the same as Helaena; you wish you could stay like this forever. But tomorrow you have to go back to France, to college and take care of your responsibilities.

“Running away from the party?”

Aemond's voice pulls you out of your thoughts, not expecting to hear him. Turning, you see him in front of you, his hands shoved in his front pockets and his gaze fixed on you.

“Not exactly,” you reply, smiling softly, ”I just needed some air.”

“Hm,” he says, then approaches you with nonchalant movements, placing himself next to you “You scared me for a moment,” he says as he admires the view, “I thought you were gone.”

You frown slightly, curious.

“Why?”

He shrugs.

“I don't know, it's too many people down there,” he points with his gaze, leaning against the railing, ”It can be overwhelming.”

You understand what he means and honestly… it surprises you.

There's something in his tone, in the way he's there with you, that makes you feel like this is the real Aemond, away from the cameras and the expectations. And you can't help but wonder; is he feeling this too?

This… whatever it is, so sudden, unexpected but intense and real.

You don't know what he's done to you. You're so interested in him. Too much. And not because of his job, his money, his importance and name recognition. But for just him and this side of him that he rarely shows to everyone.

You feel wanted for him. And you want him too.

“I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye,” you say, your tone soft but firm.

Aemond turns slightly to you, studying your face with that look that seems to disarm you every time.

“Tomorrow you return to France,” he says, his voice laden with something that sounds like resignation.

You nod slowly, averting your gaze to the water for a moment, trying to hide the mix of emotions boiling inside you.

“Yes,” you murmur, trying not to sound disappointed.

The thought of not knowing when you'll see him again, if ever, makes you feel more disappointed than you expected.

The schedule goes on. He has to keep working, keep racing in different parts of the world, attending interviews and races almost constantly, practicing and training. And you, you have to go home, focus on college and now update through social media about him and the results of each race.

And you can't be constantly traveling to the cities where the races will take place. You can't neglect your responsibilities.

“I have to go back to college,” you say later, forcing a smile that you hope will make the conversation lighter, ”Attend some of my dad's work events and all that.”

“What are you studying?” he asks you interestedly, cocking his head to the side.

“Business management.”

He nods, with that little sideways grin on his lips.

“Sure, how I didn't think of it.”

You let out a small laugh.

“It was obvious.”

“Yeah, I know.”

You both laugh softly, as the sound of conversations down there and the music slowly fades like a distant echo, making this little space of the two of you, alone and with this beautiful view, more enjoyable and comfortable.

“Well, that makes sense. But it sure can't be as bad as being on the road almost all the time, having to talk to a lot of people a day, attending events, taking pictures and having people recording everything you do either at work or on the street.”

You look at him, studying the contours of his face in the dim moonlight. There is something in his tone, a kind of hidden vulnerability, that he rarely allows himself to show.

“No, maybe not,” you murmur honestly, ”But still, it's exhausting to always maintain a good image at all these events and to be smiling all the time. You're seen as the most important, influential people with so much money and power that you simply can't make a single mistake.”

He is silent for a moment, as are you.

Equal worlds, different circumstances.

You both understand each other. There is nothing about each other's world that you are not used to. You understand all the attention that's on him, as well as the pressure and expectations, just as you are, in your business world.

“And yet, I can imagine you leading something important,” he says next, getting your attention.

His comment, as unexpected as it is sincere, warms your chest. And you smile softly, lowering your gaze. You are about to say something when he speaks again, leaning slightly toward you, watching you with renewed interest.

“Will I see you again?” he asks, his tone lower and more attentive.

Your lips part, but the words don't come out right away. You don't know what to say to him because, honestly, you don't know.

“I don't know,” you murmur, watching him intently.

“You don't know?” he repeats, his voice almost a whisper.

There's something about his tone, softer, sensual and almost hypnotic, that makes the air feel heavier. You can't help but swallow, caught in the intensity of his gaze.

He takes a small step toward you, and though you could back away, you don't. The little distance between the two of you begins to shorten imperceptibly, as if something larger and you don't understand is pulling you toward each other.

“Remember, you're my lucky charm,” he says, leaning toward you, ”And I need it.”

The confession takes your breath away, but you don't have time to process it. And before you can say anything, with alarms in your head going off to keep you from passing out, you don't know who closes the distance first, him or you.

But the next thing you know and you feel, it's his lips on yours.

A slow kiss that starts soft and exploratory, with Aemond testing the waters, trying to know if it's what you want too. And you lean closer to him, lifting your hands and placing your arms around his neck, being signal enough.

Time seems to stand still. The sound of the sea, the distant music of the party, everything dissolves. The only thing that matters is the warmth of his mouth against yours, the way his hands wrap around your waist in a firm and demanding way, drawing you even closer to him.

Your fingers, stroking his silver hair, and you cling to him as if you fear this moment could vanish at any moment.

You completely forget where you are, you completely forget about the party and you both simply focus on that moment. That moment… where it all began.

The next day, you had to return home, but the distance was not an obstacle. Communication with Aemond was not lacking.

He had to keep racing and you followed him at all times through the social media, you also talked to him by text or FaceTime, where you not only talked about work, but also about seeing each other again.

The break time between races varied. Sometimes it was a week, sometimes two, or even a month, and during those times, you both took the opportunity to see each other. Whether it was him visiting you in France or you traveling to London.

Soon, you started attending some of his races. You were excited to watch him compete, but you weren't prepared for the attention that began to surround you.

The media noticed your presence in the Ferrari garage, where you were always with your red headphones on, following Aemond's every move. Cameras caught more than once moments of you talking, laughing or sharing glances at post-race parties.

Ferrari fans and especially Aemond's followers began to speculate who you were. The interwebs were filled with questions, theories and pictures of you in the paddock.

At first, the photos were just captures of the two of you talking or walking together. They never took a video or a compromising photo of you with him, but everything changed the day someone captured the moment you kissed him before a race.

The video was posted almost instantly and social media exploded.

Then, there was no longer any doubt that you weren't the new girl he was dating. People had already found your Instagram and you decided to make it official, posting a picture with Aemond.

It didn't take long for the attention to intensify. People not only wanted to know who you were, but they started digging into every aspect of your life: your age, your country of origin, what you studied, your parents' jobs and their names.

Messages of support started pouring in, as well as messages of hate and criticism. It was something Aemond told you about from the beginning.

It was no surprise and eventually you stopped caring if people accepted you or not, nor what they might think and say about you because you both know what you are worth, not just for being his girlfriend, but for yourself.

And so people not only started to recognize you, but also to call you wag.

At every race, when they saw you in the Ferrari garage with the red headphones, the cameras would focus on you. On the giant screen, your name would appear next to his: Aemond Targaryen's Partner.

At first, you were uncomfortable with the attention, but gradually you realized that it didn't matter what others thought.

The only thing that mattered was what you shared with him, that bond that had begun on a magical night and that, against all odds, grew stronger with each passing day.

The British Grand Prix.

Every Formula One fan in the world is looking forward to the next big race at Silverstone, which starts in less than five hours.

You stretch as you yawn and immediately feel your boyfriend's strong arms around you holding you close to his body, still in his sleep.

You smile softly and turn your body towards him. His face is inches from yours, his eyes closed and breathing softly. You leave a soft kiss on his lips and then bury your face between his chest and neck, inhaling his clean, masculine scent, so characteristic of him and completely comforting.

You know today is a great day. He knows too. So there will be a lot of pressure today, both on him and on the whole team.

“You have to get up, my love,” you say finally, knowing he's not awake but not fully asleep either.

“Mgh,” he says reproachfully and sleepily, locking you more firmly in his arms.

You let out a small laugh.

“Come on. Today's a big day.”

“I don't want to,” he says in his hoarse voice, “Five more minutes.”

“Frederic will kill you,” you warn him amused, “And I don't want to be left single.”

He doesn't say anything. In fact he doesn't even move anymore, because he's trying to go back to his sleep. And you sit up a little, lying on top of his body, starting to run your lips all over his face, leaving resounding kisses.

“Hm,” he murmurs, his eyes closed.

“Come on,” you croon.

“No,” he says like a little boy, pouting.

You repeatedly kiss his cheek, then his forehead, his eyelids, his nose and finally his lips, not stopping and more in a way to tease him.

“That feels good,” he murmurs afterwards.

You let out a small laugh.

“Should work.”

Your next target is his neck and the moment your lips brush the skin of that area, you instantly feel his skin bristle and he cocks his head, giving you more access.

“You're not exactly making me want to get up with this, Y/N.”

You raise your gaze to him, with a smile.

“I'm not?”

“Hm…” he murmurs, placing his hands on your waist, ”No.”

“I have my ways.”

You sit up and swing one of your legs over his hip, sitting on top of him. You place both of your hands on his bare chest and this particular action gets his attention, finally getting him to open his sleepy eyes.

You smile like an angel and lean into him. As he watches you curiously and suddenly interested.

“This is supposed to make me want to get up?” he inquires you, now slightly amused.

“Did it work?”

“Well, I'm awake now. But for me to want to get up, having you on my lap like this, of course not.”

You let out a laugh, bringing your lips close to his, nuzzling his nose with yours.

“And how do you have me, exactly?” you murmur.

“So beautiful completely naked,” he says hoarsely.

“But you've woken up, haven't you?”

“You reminded me of what we did last night.”

He tells you in a completely different tone, and as you watch his eyes, you see that glint in his gaze.

You smile softly, looking him straight in the eye, not taking your gaze from his, to again sit up, still sitting on top of him, allowing him to have a perfect view of your bare breasts, right in front of him.

You push your hair aside so it doesn't get in the way of the view and he immediately groans. His burning, intense, desire-filled gaze makes you feel completely sexy and desired.

He purses his lips, his pupil dilated in desire, watching you completely, as if it's the first time he's seen you like this.

“We don't have much time,” you tell him later, leaning into him again.

“Five minutes seems enough to me,” he says, taking you by the waist, ”The perfect time to repeat last night.”

You don't reproach, you don't refuse, and you immediately accept his kiss.

He leans into you too, where one of his large, firm hands takes you by the nape of your neck to hold you exactly where he wants you, kissing you deeply and slowly.

You gasp softly into his mouth and bring both hands to his neck, clinging to him completely, moving your lips in rhythm with his. Then his tongue makes its way inside your mouth, making you feel a curious sensation in your lower belly.

It doesn't help that you're naked, completely. And the only thing he's wearing at the moment are his boxers.

You feel how your desire increases every second for wanting to feel his closeness, also that little tingle in your between your legs. You kiss him with more need, enjoying his warm, consuming lips, not wanting to stop and needing more.

“Fuck, baby,” he gasps into your mouth.

You settle better into his lap, specifically just above his friend, where you instantly feel the hardness beneath the fabric of his boxers.

“Someone's already awake too,” you croon against his lips.

Aemond moans into your lips, feeling that heat expand in his chest again, just as he feels a fire begin to grow inside him. Not wanting to waste any more time, he holds you more firmly by the waist, wanting to lift you up and place you under him.

But noticing his intentions, you stop him instantly, placing your hand on your chest and pushing him back, leaving him right where he is, him against the mattress and you on top of him.

“Stop right there.”

“What?” he looks at you confused.

“Stay like this,” you tell him softly, ”Just this once.”

He doesn't understand at first, since he's usually the one who always takes control, because that's how he likes it and that's what he's used to. It's not like you weren't in control before either, but only for a few moments and then he does all the work.

Although… now, the idea of you being in complete control, he doesn't dislike.

“Now do you want to lead the race?” he asks you with a smile, placing both hands back on your waist.

“I want to take care of the winner of the race,” you tell him with the same tone he is using, amused and mischievous, ”Give him his trophy. Because he deserves it.”

Without wiping away his smile, he begins to trace small circles on the skin of your waist with both hands, moving down your thighs and the cheeks of your ass from time to time.

“The race hasn't happened yet.”

“But we already know who will win,” you say condescendingly.

“So we're celebrating in advance?”

You let out a small laugh.

“Yes.”

“And if I lose?”

You lean toward him, watching his lips.

“You're still the champion to me.”

With your hand around the edge of his jaw, you pull his face close to yours to kiss him again. His warm, moist mouth welcomes you back, kissing you needily and deeply with wet sounds.

His hands gently caress your curves as you again settle on top of him, with purpose. And both he and you moan as your naked pussy rubs against his covered cock, demanding to be released so it can be properly serviced.

You slide one of your hands down his neck, inhaling deeply to reciprocate his demanding kisses, as he continues with his hands on your hips, squeezing and rubbing you against him, letting you feel what's happening inside his boxers.

You let out a moan as you feel his stiff, hard, hot cock beneath you rub against you, where instantly your juices begin to flow and you feel your pussy begin to throb, sending waves of aching pleasure throughout your body, needing something inside you, soon.

“Hm,” Aemond gasps into your mouth.

Then he pulls his lips away from yours and begins to leave soft, wet kisses down your neck, starting a trail, making you gasp loudly and tilt your head to the side to give him more accessibility.

You begin to roll your hips on top of him and he grunts into your neck, then squeezes both cheeks of your ass and move harder on top of him back and forth, needing that friction for his relief.

You bite your bottom lip and moan, closing your eyes, feeling your desire coursing through you.

“So pretty, so fucking sexy,” he murmurs hoarsely, his warm breath hitting your bare skin.

You lower your gaze to him with your parted lips and breathing hard, still moving, watching as he focuses on your breasts and brings both of his hands to cup each one, kneading them in gentle motions, making you moan and arch your back towards him.

“I love my trophy,” he says to then take a nipple into his mouth.

He knows exactly how you like it when he licks and kisses your nipples with need, grunting in between his licks.

“Yes, like that, p-please,” you whimper, arching your back more and bringing one of your hands to his hair to push his face further against your breasts.

“Yeah? Like this, baby?” he says sensuously against your skin, to again draw your nipple into his mouth as he kneads your other breast with possessive, demanding motions.

“Yes, like this,” you say in gasps.

At the same time, you stop your movements and raise your hips a little, bringing one of your hands to touch his cock above his boxers.

Aemond's breath catches and he stops licking your nipple, continuing to knead your breasts as he watches you with his lust-filled eyes and parted lips.

Finally, you free his huge, hard, hot cock from his underwear and immediately wrap one of your hands around it from the base, caressing it with deep, long strokes.

“Oh fuck,” he grunts, watching you all the while with pleasure and utter voraciousness, especially feeling that pleasure every time your thumb brushes his sensitive, red tip.

Aemond bites his lower lip as he watches your entire naked body. He shamelessly watches your pussy glistening with your juices, then your face and finally your perfect breasts with the two hard nipples that make his cock throb in a painful but delicious way at the same time.

At least he's getting relief and friction from how you're touching him, but he needs more.

“I can't take it anymore,” he tells you, breathing hard, ”I need to be inside you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod immediately.

He sits up a little, his face right in front of your breasts, reaching out and sneaking one of his hands straight to your exposed pussy, stroking his long, pale fingers up and down your entrance, checking how wet you are.

“Oh, fuck,” he says with recognition, pleased, “You're dripping, baby. All this for me, right?” he lifts his gaze to you, still touching you.

He brushes his lips against yours, as he curves his fingers and they enter you, making you gasp into his mouth as you feel the ease in which they have entered you, so slick they make you close your eyes in pleasure, moaning.

“My pretty girl,” he murmurs fondly, “So good for me, ready to squeeze my cock in your pretty pussy, aren't you?”

“Yes,” you moan, then he kisses you deeply.

You wiggle your hips against his hand, needing that and more from him, but for now settling. No sooner does your boyfriend break the kiss, however, than he also stops inserting his fingers into you and instead brings them to his cock, soaking its red tip with your juices.

You bring his hand also to the base of his cock, stroking its tip with the lips of your pussy, moving your hips back and forth without taking it inside you yet, biting your lip.

“Fuck,” Aemond says in a whisper.

He bites his lower lip as he watches the way you play with him. Then he places both hands on either side of your body, watching you expectantly and in pleasure.

The feeling of relief makes a pleasure run through his whole body, accompanying the fact of seeing you like this; your slightly sweaty body, your perfect breasts with both hard nipples and your expressions of pleasure that only he causes in you.

Then, slowly, still holding the base of his cock against your pussy, you begin to descend, entering all of him in you.

“Oh m-my god, Aemond,” you moan loudly, feeling him open all of you as you close your eyes in complete delight.

You both moan and grunt deliciously. The sensation is too delicious and makes you feel wetter and wetter.

Aemond grunts and holds you tightly by the waist, letting out shuddering sighs, watching the way your pussy squeezes him all over.

“Squeezing me so fucking good," Aemond moans, "Fuck, baby."

“So good,” you praise, completely drunk with pleasure, ”So fucking good.”

Only he fills you like this, being exactly what you need. And without waiting any longer, you begin to move your hips against him.

“Oh, yeah, baby,” he growls, ”Just like that.”

He lifts both hands and fondles your breasts, giving your hard buds attention with his tongue as you begin to bounce on his cock.

You gasp and moan at the sensation of his cock thrusting in and out of you and his hands caressing and kneading your breasts with possessive movements that send shivers down your spine.

You continue to move back and forth, moaning his name, feeling his warm breath against your breasts. You lower your gaze to him and watch as he releases your nipple with a wet pop and looks down at you with that twinkle in his eyes, still kneading them.

“Do you like it, baby?”

“Yes,” you murmur, rocking your hips on his cock, ”I love it.”

He takes the other nipple into his mouth, giving it the same attention as the last, as you moan at the delicious sensation.

Then he releases it with a wet pop and kisses you, as he moves his hands down to your ass, kneading both cheeks and squeezing the skin appreciatively, while you this time move your hips harder.

He grunts again and lets out a curse in your ear, hugging you tightly around the waist as you bounce on top of his cock.

You feel only more surges of pleasure that his cock calms as you watch his gorgeous face smooth but slightly contracted from intense pleasure, with a few strands of his short hair sticking to his forehead from his light sweat, looking so sexy.

Each drag of the head of his cock sends electricity throughout your body and a feeling of euphoria. His breathing is just as fast as yours, also hearing the slapping of your ass against his thighs each time you push him deep inside you again.

“That's it, baby. Just like that, fuck,” Aemond's voice cracks with a growl, from the intense sensations.

“Yes, yes,” you moan in his ear.

You rock against him, tightening around his big cock every time your skins meet.

“Fuck, you're so fucking tight,” he moans, moving slightly to get a better angle, “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

And the next thing he does as he feels your walls contract around him, he wraps his arms around you and clasps his warm hands around you from the small of your back, grunts and begins to accompany your movements as he too thrusts his hips upward in hard, fast thrusts.

The air completely disappears from your lungs again and you moan louder.

“Fuck!” you whimper, closing your eyes in complete pleasure, ”Oh my-”

“I'm not going to last long the way you're squeezing me, baby,” he growls.

Your pussy squeezes him harder, making him grunt and curse with his brows furrowed in concentration, his cheeks flushed with heat and his lips half-open, breathing hard.

“Fuck, fuck,” you say quickly, clinging to him tighter in desperation.

He is driving you to the edge of the abyss, as he continues to ram your G-spot repeatedly and at the same time you feel one of his hands descend between your legs and begin to stroke his thumb over your bud with just enough pressure to make you moan and feel more pleasure on the verge of exploding.

“You've fucking ruined me,” he tells you between grunts and gasps, ”This is all I'm going to think about the whole race. You, my perfect girl,” he croons in your ear, ‘And my tight, little, perfect pussy."

As if the situation itself couldn't affect you more, his words do and you move with more fervor on top of his cock.

“D-don't say that,” you speak as best you can, “The team needs his driver. Especially to win on his own house. Oh fuck.”

“Believe me, I'm feeling pretty victorious right now.”

You bite your bottom lip and kiss him.

You feel like you're on fire, the sensation engulfing you completely. His hard cock hitting your exact spot is too much and makes you roll your eyes behind your skull.

And with three more strokes of his thumb over your clit, you get goose bumps and collapse on top of him.

You moan his name and every muscle in your body tenses at once, you tingle and your mind goes blank as you let out a high pitched moan louder than the previous ones and you see stars behind your eyes as a wave rolls all over your insides.

You feel the euphoria all over your head and you shake for a moment, almost aching from it all, feeling too much as Aemond continues to fuck you during your orgasm, reaching his own peak.

“Oh, fuck,” you hear him moan and with one last hard lunge, the hot, liquid stream of his cum filling you from the inside.

You watch as he drops his head back, his eyes squeezed shut and his brows furrowed, his cheeks flushed, his skin burning and the light sweat all over his body and forehead. Truly a sight that steals your breath away.

Pleasure burns all over you, it courses through your body and you gasp, breathing hard. Time seems to stop completely, as you both slowly begin to come down from the high, even with him inside you.

Then, you feel him leave a loving kiss on your shoulder, then move up your neck, your face and finally your lips. You laugh softly against his lips as he smiles at you and you kiss him deeply, loosened and weak, just as he does.

But you both know you can't be late for his work today. So once you are both recovered, you get out of bed and get ready for the day.

The time for the race finally starts.

There are cameras everywhere. All the people around the circuit with direct views of all the cars are excited. Fans are dressed in the merch of their favorite teams and holding big banners or flags while shouting the names of their favorite drivers in support.

All the people in charge of projecting the race live make the whole moment more exciting. The entire team of mechanics is ready. All the equipment is ready and the race will start in less than ten minutes.

You are in the garage, as usual, with Helaena at your side. She prefers to be in another section, but considering that you are in her and Aemond's country, she wants to bring all the good luck for her brother to win at home.

Not only she is here, there is also Aemond's mother Alicent with her two brothers, Aegon, who you finally have the pleasure to meet personally, Daeron and his grandfather Otto.

Even Aemond was surprised when they let him know that his older brother would be coming to support him.

That only added to the stress of knowing the great expectations that are upon him on this day, but it also made him happy to know that he will have his whole family supporting him from here.

You watch the screen in front of you, focusing on Aemond inside his red car, positioning himself on the grid just like the other drivers, ready to start the race.

Helaena places a hand on your shoulder in support mode and you smile softly, placing your hand on top of hers, as you both watch the screen that focuses entirely on Aemond.

You are both positive today, even if he doesn't win, everyone knows what a great job he has done and will still be very proud of him.

Aemond's dream has always been to win at Ferrari's home as well as his own in the same year. He has not managed to win at home, this would be the first time if at all.

Starting from fifth place, it's not too bad and you have to hope he can do it.

Then finally all the cars are perfectly positioned on the starting grid. Everyone in the place is attentive and ready. The countdown to the start of the race ends and the lights start to show their colors at the same time you hear through the headphones the voice of the presenters.

“We all set for the start of the British Grand Prix halfway through the 2025 season and… lights out!”

The driver speaks through your headphones and all the people out there scream in excitement as they watch all the cars start, beginning the race.

You watch Aemond intently and hopefully, watching as he takes advantage of passing the drivers in front of him on the starting grid, going from starting fifth, to second.

The applause and cheers are not long in coming, as is everyone in the Ferrari garage and Aemond's family. But they are not singing victory yet. It's only the first lap, fifty-one to go and anything can happen.

You don't know if he's thinking about what you both did this morning even though he said he would. You certainly are as you follow his footsteps across the screen. You can't see his face but when he takes off his helmet and you see him in his sports suit, it sets off all your alarms in you.

But… you know he was thinking about his prize you gave him this morning, when after two hours, you see and hear: “He is about to head to victory as he comes into the final corners here at Silverstone, the crowds are going crazy! Aemond Targaryen wins the British Grand Prix!”

The deafening roar of the crowd fills the air, mingling with the thunderous sound of the engines. The commentator continues to narrate with excitement as your eyes remain fixed on the screen.

Your heart is pounding, watching every movement of the red car representing Ferrari, representing Aemond.

The moment is surreal. You watch as it crosses the finish line, the car glistening in the Silverstone sun as the checkered flag waves. You can barely hear the commentator's voice amidst all the shouting and cheering from the crowd out there.

“Aemond Targaryen takes his first-ever victory at home! The Sapphire Prince has done it!”

The garage erupts in celebration. Everyone hugs, jumps and shouts as if they were the ones behind the wheel. You can't help but smile, eyes shining with pride.

You hug Helaena, Alicent, Aegon, Daeron and shake hands with Otto, as everyone smiles and is congratulated by more team members, proud of Aemond completely, as are you.

Finally the first three places arrive on the grid, Piastri, Verstappen and Targaryen. Photographers pile up, capturing every second, and you can barely contain yourself. You want to run to him, hug him, kiss him, but you hold back… for now.

Finally, you see him get out of the car, strike a pose, strike a pose, celebrate and run to his entire team, launching himself at all of them, as they all scream, celebrate and hug him.

You watch still from the garage, knowing full well that he has to take a drink of water, rest a bit in the middle of all the celebration and do a little interview. Afterwards, he has to wait with the other two winners for the awards ceremony to be ready.

Certainly, you can't get close to him until it's all over. But you see him at all times. Proud, attentive and completely happy.

You watch as he takes off his helmet and his silver hair, now damp from the effort, falls messily over his forehead and the smile he wears makes the air around you become unreal.

Then, you watch with pride as they place the gold medal around his neck, he holds his trophy above his head as he waves and smiles at everyone, finally culminating the award ceremony by opening the bottle of champagne and throwing the foam to his coworkers, at the same time that they also soak him.

And when it's all over… you finally go to him.

You hug him tightly, feeling his heartbeat still racing from the adrenaline of the race. You don't care that they're probably filming you, you just want to kiss him, hug him, celebrate with him, let him know how proud you are of him.

And that's what you do, you kiss him deeply and hold back your tears of emotion.

“You did it,” you say with your contained emotion, placing your forehead against his.

“No, we did,” he tells you, clinging to you with both hands on your waist.

You laugh softly and again kiss him, unable to get enough of him.

After all, he will always be the champion for you and you will always be his lucky charm.

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