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inkydelusions · 3 days ago

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just kiss already! - 2.4k

summary: thursdays are your favourite day of the week because it means spencer comes pick you up from work. contents&warnings: fem!reader. kids (don’t worry, they’re nice kids). a/n: you voted and you receive: i present to you garcia!reader !! i hope you end up loving her as much as i do

it’s thursday, which means one thing, and one thing only. spencer is supposed to pick you up from work. thursdays have always been your favorite day of the week. it offered the perfect equilibrium, being right in the middle of the week, it also used to be the days when you spent most time practicing with your theatre group growing up. now, they’re your favorite day because thursdays means you get to spend your afternoon with one of your favorite people after spending all morning surrounded by a bunch of your favorite tiny people.

“okay, everyone. make sure you grab all your things. eva, don’t forget your jacket again, please. your mom will send the police to my house if you do,” you mutter the last part as you turn around to finish erasing the doodles and simple subtractions and multiplications from the board.

“miss, there’s someone at the door.” you feel a pair of tiny hands pulling at the hem of your shirt.

when you turn in the direction of the classroom’s door, you see spencer standing there, hands in his pockets and his characteristic smile pulling at his lips.

“it’s the dinosaur man,” your student says, still puling at your shirt.

you chuckle at the nickname he’s decided to give to spencer. a few weeks ago, spencer ventured into the elementary school where you teach after waiting for too long in his car. when he reached your class, he found you sitting on the floor, playing with a small kid as you made time for his parents to arrive. his mom had called a few hours before to let you know there’d been an issue at work and she didn’t think she could pick the little kid up in time. after standing on the threshold for way longer than one would deem comfortable, spencer finally knocked on the door softly. the moment both you and the kid looked up at him, he could feel his heart stop beating in his chest, only for it to return to life at full speed. you smiled broadly, introducing him to the kid.

“elliot, this is my friend spencer.”

“hi,” he waved shyly.

“hi, there.” spencer waved back. “cool shirt, elliot.”

“thanks!” he beamed. “it’s a stegosaurus.”

you noticed how spencer was holding back his correction, biting his lip in a smile instead of letting the kid know that it was, in fact, not a stegosaurus. after that, both of them got into a vivid conversation on dinosaurs; spencer sitting in a chair that was way too small for him, as he gave little elliot a very detailed talk on dinosaurs and their history.

“go pick you backpack, elliot, we can say hi to the dinosaur man before you leave, yes?”

he nods eagerly and runs to his place, where both his backpack and his jacket are waiting for him. after making sure that all the kids have been picked up by their parents, you and elliot walk outside, hand in hand. you’ve grown accustomed to the idea of having to stay back for a while until either elliot’s mom or her boyfriend can come pick him up.

spencer smiles when he sees you come out of the classroom and offers elliot his open palm for a high-five.

“hello, little guy. how was everything today?”

the way he talks to the kid has you thinking all sorts of thoughts. most of them have your chest puffing with a feeling yet unknown to you.

“great! we sang a song with miss today. yeah, and we also learnt this super difficult maths.”

“but elliot is a smart guy and has done all his classroom homework in no time, right?”

“right! i got this tattoo as a prize.”

he shows the back of his hand to spencer. there’s a hand-drawn blue star with a smiley face right in the middle of it.

“that’s really cool, elliot. congrats,” spencer praises the kid, smiling broadly. “do you think i could get one of those super cool tattoos, too?”

“i don’t know…” elliot looks up at you, as if asking for your opinion.

“do you know how much twelve by ten is?” you ask in your teacher voice, which has spencer biting back a smile.

“mmm…” he looks up, taking a long moment to think his answer. “twenty?”

“no!” elliot laughs, throwing his arms up.

“i’ll give you another try. come on, genius boy.”

“i know! miss, i know the answer!” elliot jumps in front of you, raising his hand as if he were still in class.

“do you want to help the dinosaur man?”

across the school’s parking lot you see a blue car that you’ve learnt to recognize as elliot’s mom’s car. when he sees it too, he starts jumping impatiently, calling for his mom with an excited voice and completely forgetting about maths.

“hi, darling,” his mom says cheerfully once she reaches you. she leans down to hug elliot. “how was your day, baby?”

“good! look.”

spencer watches in silence as you and elliot’s mom talk about his day in school. the whole time he focuses on your mannerisms, the way you remain respectful, yet not intimidating at all, the way your smile seems to turn slightly brighter when you look down at elliot to wave goodbye.

“you really like that kid, don’t you?” he finally asks once elliot and his mom are gone.

“oh, he’s running for the number one spot in my best friend list,” you say, starting towards his car.

“i’d say i’m offended, but i think penelope is the one that should be worried. she’s competing against a nine year old with a really cool collection of dinosaur t-shirts.”

that makes you laugh, and, consequently, it makes spencer shine from within as if making you laugh was one of his greatest achievements in his life. forget about the many cases he’s solved, the great amount of people he’s helped in his years working in the bau… making you happy was his best work.

“where are we eating today?”

he winces slightly. “don’t get mad…”

“has anyone ever told you that’s the last thing you should tell someone if you don’t want them to get mad?” you stare at him over the roof of his car.

“yeah. morgan usually says that.”

“you should listen to him more,” you joke. “come on, spit it out. what is it?”

“we got a new case a couple hours ago.” he sighs, noticing the way your face falls slightly and hating it. “hotch gave us three hours before we leave.”

that makes you smile softly, trying your best you hide your disappointment. you know it’s not his fault, you can’t get mad at him for doing his job.

“at least you’ll drive me home, yeah?”

“of course.” spencer nods.

“that’s enough for me.”

“is it?” spencer asks, tilting his head slightly.

“i mean, it’s not optimal. i’d rather we have more time to talk about how our days were today. but we’ll make it work.”

all time spent with you is time well spent, spence you want to say, but instead, you open the door to his car and slide in. inside, he lets you play around with the radio until you land on your favorite station.

“oh! this is such a good song, spence!”

you turn the volume up, and he lets you, even though he’s always been more the type to drive in silence. you sing along, dancing in your place, tapping your fingertips against your thighs, and spencer thinks he doesn’t want to be in silence ever again, he wants to hear your voice in his ear wherever he goes, your giggles when you mess up the lyrics and your little rumbles about the artists playing, and their albums and their histories.

he steals a couple of glances whenever he stops at a red light, wondering how on earth he managed to keep you by his side for so long. he stares at the curve your nose, the shine of your lips as you lick you them before jumping into the next song. he doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone as beautiful.

“spence, the light. it’s green.”

shaking his head, he apologizes to the car behind him and continues driving.

“so,” you speak lowering the volume of the radio. “how was your day?”

“lots of paperwork. at least until we got the new case.”

“is it juicy?” you ask, knowing that he can’t talk about it, at least not until it’s closed.

“juicy?” spencer asks, a cute soft frown forming between his eyebrows and a lopsided smile pulling at his lips.

“yeah. is is interesting?”

“if by interesting you mean lots of blood and three corpses with missing body parts, then yeah, i guess it’s… interesting.”

“jesus, reid. spare the details.”

“you asked,” he whines, entirely confused. “how was your day with the kids?”

“great. we got to try out some of the new paints that the school bought for the art class. and there is this one little girl, lilith… oh, she’ll be a great artist one day, i’m telling you.”

“i’m sure she will. you’re her teacher after all.”

spencer doesn’t notice it, but his words have you blushing. spencer has been a great supporter ever since you met, always making sure you know exactly how special and hardworking you are. and you know his compliments are sincere, he’d never lie to you. so when he tells you he wishes he’d had a teacher like you back in school, one that really cares for her students, that makes everything that is in her power to ensure their experience of school is a good memory in the future, you know he’s being truthful.

growing up, school was sort of a safe space for you. somewhere you got to express yourself, and spend hours learning and playing. now, as an adult, you remember those days with such love… that’s all you want for your little kids to feel like when they grow up. you want them to be able to look back and be glad that they got the opportunity to learn in a space that allowed them to explore who they wanted to be. and, so far, you’re doing a pretty god job.

“thanks for driving me home, spence,” you say when he finally turns the corner around your apartment building.

“i’m sorry we didn’t have more time,” he apologizes, eyes turning down as he stops the car in front of the front door.

you take one of his hands, squeezing it gently, and with a smile, you say, “next time we’ll get more time.”

he knows it’s not a promise. it can’t be, not with his job. still, he smiles and nods. his eyes scan your face, like he always does before leaving you for a case.

“you take care out there, yeah?” you say, still holding his hand.

“yeah, i will.”

you lean forward to drop a feather-like kiss of his cheek as a goodbye. before you can exit the car, he grabs your wrist, pulling you back to him. and you swear you can see it in his eyes, the resolve, the intent. he’s going to kiss you. finally, he’s going to kiss you. so you try to keep calm, try not to jump on your seat as he cups your cheek gently, caressing the skin with his thumb. you focus on his eyes, on the soft curve of his lips as he leans closer.

it’s happening.

oh my god, it’s actually happening.

but then his hand is gone and he’s retreating and your smile falls.

“you had some paint on your cheek.”

and as adorable as you looked, he didn’t want you to walk around with a splatter of purple paint across your face. although, knowing you, he doesn’t think you would’ve minded it that much. you’re used to walking around with your clothes covered in paint and glitter and the star shaped stickers that some of your students plaster on you when you’re not looking.

spencer can swear there’s a flash of disappointment when he lets his hand fall between you two.

“thanks,” you say with a weak smile, finally opening the car door. “i’ll see you when you get back, yeah?”

“of course. take care.” spencer smiles brightly.

“you too, spence. bye.”

he stays put until he sees you enter your apartment building. and, as he drives away, he curses himself for not having kissed you.

leaning your forehead against your apartment door you swear you can hear penelope’s voice in your ear groaning and complaining about yet another failed attempt at ending this little tense game that has been going on between spencer and you for far too long.

you two are either too blind or too stupid, honey. i’m telling you. he likes you. you like him. just kiss already!

but, as it usually happens when you stop to think about this situation for too long, all your fears and anxieties start spilling from the tiny, pink box where you’ve been keeping them for a long, long time.

what if it doesn’t work? what if he realizes you’re too much? what if he gets tired of you and your noisy, messy and glittery self?

you like spencer. a lot. hell, you think you have liked him ever since you first met him. i mean, who wouldn’t. yes, he has a unique sense of humor, and most of the times he doesn’t get your pop culture references. but that’s the fun about your friendship, he tells you some really bad jokes about some ancient philosopher, you tell him all about the newest hollywood couples drama and, together, you enjoy each other’s confusion. you let him babble on and on about the newest scientific article he’s reading, even though you’ve lost the plot two minutes into the ramble, and, in exchange, he helps you with your arts and crafts projects, passing the glue and the colored pencils as if you two were in an operating room and you were performing an open heart surgery.

the bond between you two is too strong to be risked. and so, as always you try not to think about how his eyes had drifted towards your lips mere minutes away, as if he had been thinking about the same thing you had. and wish a sigh, you hang your bag on the flower shaped hanger right next to the door, toe your shoes off and walk straight to your crafts room.

thanks for reading <3 likes and reblogs are appreciated !!

tags !! @siennnaaa1202 ; @kusanagisunshine-blog-blog ; @girllblogging777 ; @superbeaglewitch ; @yasministration

#garcia!reader #smitten!spencer #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff #cursed carmine dividers

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suunani · 1 day ago

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orgasm.exe [ choi soobin ]

who knew that soobin had a big brain and an even bigger surprise?

❛ content 3.8k words, 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, power bottom! male reader, big dick virgin! soobin, nerdy dirty talk, pathetic nerd! soobin, unprotected sex (p in a), praise kink, size kink, soobin talks a looot during it, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, riding, creampie, aftercare, requested here!

you didn’t expect the campus library’s most reclusive, awkward math genius to have a voice that soft.

“i brought the notes,” he mumbled, holding up a neat binder like a peace offering. his long fingers gripped it too tightly, knuckles pale. “sorry i’m late. i—i was recalculating the sample sizes in the… ah, anyway. hi.”

choi soobin.

the guy who never made eye contact with anyone unless forced. always sitting in the back row, muttering answers under his breath that were always annoyingly right. you’d caught him staring at you in lectures a few times — like full on, wide eyed, glasses slipping down his nose, inhaling your soul kind of staring — but he always looked away like he’d been caught watching porn in public.

and now, here he was. standing in the doorway of your dorm room, two textbooks under one arm, a thick bulge in his jeans he clearly didn’t know how to hide, and that same look on his face.

like his body couldn’t decide if it was devotion or panic making his stomach flip.

you stepped aside to let him in.

“make yourself comfortable.”

soobin hesitated.

his eyes did a full scan of your room — bookshelf, unmade bed, pair of briefs on the floor — and his ears immediately flushed pink. still, he nodded, set his things on your desk, and sat in the desk chair like it was a job interview. posture rigid. shoulders hunched to make himself smaller. legs spread too wide because… well. because he was too tall to sit normally in anything.

you couldn’t help it — you smiled.

“you ever been in someone else’s dorm before?” you teased lightly.

he blinked behind his glasses. “no.”

“no?”

he shook his head. “never got invited.”

you leaned against the edge of the desk, close enough that your thigh nearly brushed his knee.

“so i’m your first?”

soobin’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“in… in a way, yes.”

that look was back again — staring up at you like you were made of fire. like he couldn’t decide whether to run or reach out and touch.

god, he was so awkward. and sweet. and kind of unbelievably hot in that tall, twitchy, no social skills kind of way. you let the silence stretch for a moment. watched how his eyes kept flicking to your mouth, then down, then back up like he was doing mental calculations.

you decided to cut the tension. “you really been staring at me all semester just to help me pass stats?”

soobin looked mortified.

“i—what?! i wasn’t—i mean, i was, but not like—it’s not just that, i just—”

you raised a brow, smirking. “relax, genius. i’m flattered.”

“…you are?”

“mmh,” you leaned in, voice dropping just a little. “you’re cute when you’re nervous.”

his breath hitched. visibly. like his brain short-circuited.

“i—you’re extremely—i mean statistically—wait no, i meant subjectively—” he stopped himself, cheeks going pink. “sorry. i talk too much when i’m… you know.”

“turned on?”

soobin looked like his bones had given up and the chair was the only thing keeping him upright.

“i think i like when you talk too much.”

he didn’t move. just watched, pupils dilated, chest rising and falling shallowly beneath his sweater vest. he had no idea what to do with his hands, which made you grin as you stepped between his knees.

he froze when your hand touched his thigh.

“wait—” he breathed.

“you okay?” you asked, instantly softening. “i can stop. i want you to tell me if anything feels off.”

“no! i mean—no, don’t stop,” soobin said quickly, voice high and cracking. “i’ve just… i’ve never… i haven’t—ever done anything.”

you nodded. “i figured.”

“is that—bad?”

you tilted your head, brushing your fingers along the edge of his jaw. “why would that be bad?”

“i don’t know,” he said quietly. “you’re… you seem like you know what you’re doing. and i—i don’t. not even a little bit. i’m probably gonna be terrible and come in like thirty seconds and say something stupid about newton’s laws of motion and ruin the whole thing.”

you huffed a laugh. “well, now i kind of want you to say something about newton’s laws of motion while you’re inside me.”

soobin’s whole soul left his body.

you stepped closer, gently guiding his hand to your waist. “you’re not going to ruin anything. you’re adorable. you’re hot. and i want you.”

he blinked up at you like he couldn’t believe this was real. like any moment, he was going to wake up alone in his bed with a hard-on and the smell of his own hand lotion.

but it was real. you were straddling his lap now, and you could feel it — so thick, so hot, so big under his jeans, pressing between your legs like a damn secret weapon. you gasped a little as it shifted under you.

“…god,” you whispered.

“i’m—sorry?”

you leaned in close, lips just at his ear. “why didn’t you tell me you were big?”

“i—what?” he squeaked.

you rolled your hips slowly against it. “that’s not normal big. that’s fuck-me-up big.”

soobin whimpered. whimpered.

“i read online that size doesn’t correlate with pleasure,” he blurted, voice desperate. “but i—i can do angles! i’ve read about—about pressure points! i know about the anterior wall, and—and—”

you kissed him.

not just to shut him up. though that was part of it.

you kissed him because his lips were full and trembling and begging for it. because he deserved to feel something other than nerves buzzing through him. because no one had ever kissed him like he was worth losing control over, and fuck, he was.

soobin gasped against your mouth like it shorted his circuits. like he’d only ever imagined this behind closed doors, in the quiet dark, with his hand on his cock and your name on his tongue.

his hands finally settled on your hips. gentle. awkward. like he was afraid of squeezing too hard, like you’d shatter. you deepened the kiss, rocking into him a little more, grinding deliberately on that massive bulge straining against his jeans.

he groaned into your mouth.

“i—” soobin gasped, breaking the kiss, his lips already flushed and wet. “i need to—oh my god—i think i’m gonna come—”

you smiled, panting softly against his mouth. “not yet. you’re gonna come inside me.”

his head dropped back against the chair like he’d been electrocuted. just that. just the promise of being inside you. his hips twitched involuntarily and the moan that left him was so guttural it made your stomach clench.

you leaned in close, whispering right against his throat.

“i’m gonna ride you until your brain falls out of your ears, soobin.”

he whimpered again. actually whimpered. arms limp at his sides like he couldn’t figure out how to move his own body. you kissed his jaw, then the corner of his mouth, slow and sweet.

“but you need to give me a second. gotta get myself ready for this.”

“r-ready?”

you moved off his lap, grabbing your lube from the drawer like it was just another night. but it wasn’t.

soobin was still panting, hard as fuck in his jeans, eyes locked to you like you were pulling the sun out of the sky. you climbed up onto your bed, knees spread as you pushed down your sweats and underwear in one single movement, letting your bare skin meet the cold sheets.

you met his gaze as you slicked your fingers.

he made a broken sound in his chest.

you smirked. “watch.”

and fuck, he did.

he watched like he’d never seen anything before. wide eyes, mouth open, fists clenched on his thighs.

you brought your fingers to your entrance, slow, teasing the rim with gentle pressure. a soft sigh slipped from you as you eased in the first knuckle. the burn was familiar, the stretch routine — but the way soobin was staring like you’d just parted the gates of heaven?

that was new.

“s-should i be helping?” he whispered, breathless.

“just sit there,” you breathed, adding more lube. “and think about how lucky you are.”

soobin made a sound like a gasped prayer. “i’m the luckiest man alive.”

you snorted, pressing the second finger in.

“holy—fuck, that’s so—beautiful,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “you’re stretching yourself open for me—me—”

you moaned, rolling your hips just slightly against your fingers, and his breath hitched like he’d been punched.

“i don’t—i don’t think i can—” soobin choked, grabbing at himself over his jeans with an urgency that was almost painful. “i’m gonna—oh god, fuck, i’m gonna come—”

you looked over just in time to see him jerk violently in the chair, hips snapping once, jaw going slack as he came untouched in his pants — loud, like something sacred had been ripped out of him. he moaned your name like he needed it to stay alive, biting down on his fist to muffle it, his thighs trembling under him.

you couldn’t stop the slow smirk that curled on your lips.

“wow.”

“i—” he gasped, face flushed, hair a mess, glasses skewed on his nose. “i’m—i’m so sorry—i didn’t mean to, i just—”

“you came just from watching me prep?” you tilted your head, biting your lip. “that’s hot.”

he looked like he was suffering. “but i—i wanted to—inside—i didn’t mean to—”

“relax, baby,” you murmured, reaching for him again. “you’ve got more in you. right?”

soobin moaned just from the nickname. moaned. and when you knelt between his knees again and started undoing his jeans, he looked like he was about to cry from gratitude.

you tugged them down, and your breath caught.

“…holy shit.”

soobin’s cock flopped free, half-soft and already twitching to get hard again.

it was big. way too big. heavy and flushed and thick even while soft. thick enough that you weren’t sure how the hell you were going to take all of it, even after prepping.

“no way you were walking around campus with this monster between your legs,” you muttered, almost reverently. “no wonder you’re so awkward. you’ve been hiding a weapon.”

soobin flushed all the way down to his collarbones. “i—it’s not— is it bad?”

“bad? soobin, it’s a miracle i’m not on my knees worshipping it right now.”

“i—i wouldn’t mind— i mean—”

you shot him a look, and he let out a tiny squeak, abruptly silencing himself.

“lay down,” you said, voice low, eyes never leaving his cock. “on the bed. i need to ride this thing before i lose my mind.”

he moved like his limbs didn’t belong to him, clambering up onto your bed with shaky hands and eyes wide, like he didn’t believe any of this was real.

his cock bobbed up fully hard again, heavy against his stomach. your mouth actually watered.

you climbed over him, settling with your knees on either side of his hips, and reached between you to guide the tip to your entrance. just resting it there was enough to make you gasp. soobin was shaking.

“w-wait,” he stammered. “what if i hurt you?”

you leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to his lips. “you won’t. i want this. i want you.”

he moaned into the kiss, hands already grasping your hips like he couldn’t stop himself. you braced yourself, breathed deep, and started to sink down.

the stretch was unreal.

your mouth fell open, a strangled sound coming out as the blunt head of his cock pushed past your rim. the burn was immediate, intense. your body strained, trembling, trying to take him.

soobin was already gasping under you. “oh—fuck—you’re—you’re so—tight—are you okay?”

you nodded through gritted teeth. “y-yeah—just give me—fuck, soobin, you’re huge—”

“i’m sorry!”

“no—don’t you dare apologize.”

you forced yourself to breathe through it, relaxing bit by bit as you slid down inch by inch. his cock felt like it was punching up into your guts, thick and hot and impossible. you swore you could feel every vein, every twitch of his nerves through your walls.

soobin was losing his mind.

“y-you’re—taking me so well—how are you—god, you’re so perfect—you’re squeezing me so tight—i can’t—i can’t think—”

“you’re in so deep already—fuck, you’re ruining me—” you gasped, dropping lower with each word. “no one’s ever filled me like this—”

that set something off in him.

his grip on your hips tightened as he moaned, desperate and overwhelmed. “no one? no one’s ever—been this deep? you—you’re mine—mine—i’m the first to touch you like this?”

you were fully seated now, chest heaving, your walls fluttering around him, clenching hard as your body adjusted to the pressure. you leaned forward, palms flat on his chest, eyes fluttering.

“you’re fucking perfect,” you whispered. “so big, soobin, you’re stretching me open, you’re in my stomach—”

soobin let out a raw, high-pitched sound.

“i’m gonna die,” he whimpered. “i’m gonna die, and this is how i want to go—inside you—buried in you—”

you laughed breathlessly, rolling your hips experimentally. he arched off the bed, cock hitting something inside you that made your whole body spasm.

“oh—fuck—do that again,” you gasped.

“i—what did i do?—i need to do it again—i want to make you feel good—so good—”

you started to move, grinding slow and deep, dragging yourself up his length and then dropping down again, watching his jaw fall open, watching his whole face twist in pleasure.

“f-fuck—you’re so sensitive,” you moaned, bouncing slowly. “every little squeeze makes you whimper like a fucking virgin—”

“i am—” he gasped. “you’re my first—only— i never wanted anyone else—only you—”

god. his voice. the way he talked during sex — fast and nerdy and desperate, like he was rattling off theorems while losing his mind.

“i’m gonna make you feel so good,” he panted. “i know the angles—oh my god— i studied. watched videos—i read so many—so many forums. i wanted to be good for you—just for you—”

you moaned out loud, hips snapping faster, your cock bobbing untouched between you. the rhythm was too perfect. every time you came down, he bottomed out inside you, hitting so deep it felt like you were going to see stars.

“soobin,” you gasped. “you’re—fucking me so good—this is insane—you’re a goddamn natural—”

soobin whimpered so loud, like he’d just been told he won a nobel prize.

“i—i am?” he breathed.

“you’re splitting me open with this monster cock—fucking me so deep—you’re so good, soobin, fuck, you’re so good at this—”

“i love you,” he blurted.

you froze, breath caught in your throat, your thighs trembling around his hips, still so full of his cock you could feel it in your chest.

soobin’s face went pale like he’d just told a calculus joke in the wrong room. “i—i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to say it—i mean i did—but i wasn’t trying to pressure you or ruin this or make it weird, it just—came out—”

you grabbed his jaw with both hands, kissed him hard, and whispered against his lips :

“say it again while i come on your cock.”

he gasped like he couldn’t breathe. “i love you.”

you started to ride him again — so hard, so fast, now reckless — and the noise he made was somewhere between a sob and a scream.

“i love you,” he choked. “i love you, you’re so perfect, you’re—god, you feel so good—i wanna live in you—”

you moaned, grinding deep, his cock hitting your prostate so perfectly that your vision blurred.

“i’ve never—fuck—never felt this before,” you whimpered, bracing your hands on his chest. “you’re fucking ruining me, soobin—your cock is splitting me open—i can’t—”

soobin looked like he was about to cry. “y-you’re gonna make me cum again—please—please let me cum inside, i need to, i need to—”

you slammed down hard, clenching tight around him.

“do it—fill me up, soobin—wanna feel you spill inside me—wanna feel your cum drip out while you keep me full—”

he lost it.

with a sound like his entire soul ripped free of his body, soobin thrust up into you — so hard — hands locking around your waist, finally taking the rhythm for himself. and just like that, he was fucking you.

messy. desperate. and so, so deep.

“oh my god—” you cried out, body jolting with every sharp thrust. “soobin—fuck—what are you—”

“i’m sorry—i have to—i have to—” he gasped, voice breaking. “you feel so good—i can’t hold back—you’re letting me inside—i can’t stop—”

the dorm room filled with the sound of your bodies meeting — slick, obscene, overwhelming — the wet slap of skin on skin as he drove into you with trembling strength. he wasn’t graceful, wasn’t practiced either, but somehow it didn’t matter. he hit every spot. every time. like he’d mapped your body in his dreams.

his eyes were locked on your face, glasses still somehow halfway on, slipping down his nose with every thrust. you couldn’t look away. he looked like something primal had taken over — lips parted, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide with need.

and the things he was saying—

“you’re so tight, i can feel you everywhere, every inch—i want to memorize this—i want to study you—i want to write theses about how perfect your body feels—”

you were shaking. open and gone.

your legs were jelly around him now, your arms shaking too much to hold you up. soobin noticed, and with a sudden strength you didn’t expect, he grabbed you around the waist and flipped you, pressing you down to the mattress and staying buried inside you with one deep, dizzying thrust.

you gasped, arching under him.

“soobin—!”

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, hovering above you, looking destroyed. “i—i need to stay inside. just for a little—just a little longer—i can’t let go yet—”

“then don’t,” you begged. “stay inside. fuck me, soobin—fuck me harder—”

and damn, he did.

he snapped his hips into you, relentless now, cock stretching you to the limit, his voice unraveling right in your ear as he chased the edge.

“i love you—i love you so much—i’ve loved you since the first lecture—i used to touch myself thinking about this—you—i didn’t even know what to do with my hands, i just knew i wanted you—”

your hand slid between your legs, desperate, stroking your own cock as he pounded you, your body singing from the inside out.

“don’t stop—don’t you dare stop—soobin, i’m gonna—fuck, i’m gonna—”

“come,” he gasped. “please, please come—want you to cum on my cock, want you to milk it—make me fill you—make me stay inside forever—”

and you did.

your whole body convulsed, cock pulsing in your hand, white-hot release spilling across your stomach and chest as your walls clenched down tight around him. you sobbed his name, legs shaking violently as you came harder than you had in years.

that was all it took.

soobin’s hands gripped your hips so tight you knew you’d bruise later. he slammed in once, twice, and then he was spilling inside you with a loud scream, cock throbbing so deep, filling you with so much cum you could feel it leaking already.

“i’m cumming—i’m cumming—i’m inside you—fuck, i love you—i love you i love you—”

soobin didn’t pull out.

he didn’t even move. he collapsed on top of you, trembling, still buried to the hilt, still moaning under his breath like he didn’t want it to end.

you lay there together — shaking, sweaty, breathless — and felt him press one soft, desperate kiss to your throat.

“can we…” he mumbled, voice small. “can we stay like this? just for a little while?”

you smiled, completely fucked out, one hand sliding into his damp hair.

“baby,” you whispered. “you can stay inside me as long as you want.”

soobin made a small, crushed noise against your throat. something between a whimper and a sigh of absolute, stupid bliss.

you could feel his cock twitch one last time inside you, still half-hard, still locked so deep it made your legs twitch again just from the memory. he didn’t move — he wouldn’t move. you’d melted into the mattress beneath him, boneless, body sticky with sweat and cum and love.

“…you okay?” you asked softly, fingers brushing through the damp hair at the back of his neck.

he nodded against your skin, barely moving. then a soft, muffled : “i can’t believe that happened.”

you laughed, shaky and hoarse. “you mean the part where you absolutely destroyed me?”

soobin groaned in embarrassment, shifting just slightly. his cock moved inside you and both of you gasped at the hypersensitivity. he stopped immediately, whimpering.

“i’m sorry—i don’t want to hurt you, i just— i don’t know what to do now. i—uh—do we need to clean up? should i get you water? or—wait, should i get a towel? are you cramping? oh my god, i think i’m still hard—”

“soobin,” you whispered, smile tugging at your lips until it almost hurt. “breathe.”

he paused, blinking down at you like a deer caught in your bedroom lamp.

you cupped his flushed cheek. “you did so good. i’m not dying. i’m just… full. of you. in every way.”

soobin’s eyes got glassy again.

“i made you feel good?”

“baby,” you whispered, pulling him down so your foreheads touched. “that was the best fuck of my life.”

he made a broken, overwhelmed sound and kissed you. messy, still desperate, but sweet. the kind of kiss that tasted like someone who couldn’t believe they were allowed to love you like this.

eventually, he softened inside you with a small whine and pulled out carefully. you hissed from the sensitivity, but he was so gentle — like you were glass.

he tried to get up to clean you, but you yanked him back by the wrist.

“later. just lie down with me.”

he slid in beside you, glasses crooked and slipping down his nose, wrapping those long arms around you like he didn’t ever want to let go. you curled against his chest, still sticky and sweaty, and neither of you cared.

soobin was quiet for a while. then :

“i didn’t even know it could feel like that,” he whispered. “i thought—i was scared i wouldn’t be good at it. that i’d mess it up. but you just…”

you kissed the center of his chest.

“i felt safe. and wanted. and i wanted you,” he said, voice cracking at the edges. “i’ve wanted you since forever. i just never thought i’d get to have this. to have you.”

you pressed your face into his collarbone, eyes fluttering closed.

“you have me now,” you murmured. “all of me, soobin.”

he held you tighter.

“…are you okay? like, physically?” he added in a panicked whisper after a beat. “i came a lot. like, a lot—”

you laughed so hard you wheezed. “soobin.”

“sorry! i just—i don’t want to give you, like, some weird cum-induced stomach cramp—”

“i am gloriously ruined,” you said, shifting closer. “and if you apologize for doing too good of a job one more time, i’m gonna make you fuck me again.”

soobin blushed deep red.

“…noted.”

346 notes · View notes

curseluvr · 2 days ago

Text

TWO OF A KIND

Sleeping with both Satoru and Suguru doesn't come without consequences. You’re caught between two men who refuse to be shared in secret. You wanted both? You’ll learn what that really means, even if it's being used exactly how they see fit.

wc: 3.8k

content: satoruxfem!readerxsuguru, some satosugu, p in v intercourse, double penetration, unprotected s*x, crying, degradation, spitting, pet names, creampie, choking/breathplay, overstim, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, gojo uses infinity during s*x, everyone's a whore in this

For the first time in your entire friendship, Shoko is nearly left speechless. You can’t blame her, not after you’ve dropped the drama of the century on her.

“You’re fucking both of them? Do they know?”

You wince. “Nope.”

The silence between you stretches, heavy with disbelief and secondhand dread. Shoko blinks once, then takes a long drag of her cigarette like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

“You’re sleeping with Gojo and Geto, and they don’t know about each other.”

You nod, slowly and shamefully.

“I didn’t plan this,” you murmur. And it’s true. Sleeping with a pair of best friends and two of the most powerful sorcerers you know isn’t on brand for you. You’re not messy like that and definitely not this reckless. You'd never intended to sleep with either of them, let alone both.

But you’d be lying if you said you aren’t glad it happened.

It started with Satoru who kissed you after too many late night drinks. Maybe that’s what gave you the confidence to make a move on Suguru after completing a crazy mission, adrenaline running high for both of you.

One night turned into a pattern, and then a habit, and then a secret you didn’t know how to let go of. And in between all of it, there was you, floating in the eye of the storm, pretending the sky wasn’t about to fall.

“I don’t think they’ll take it well,” Shoko warns you. “You know them.”

It’s a scenario you’ve pondered constantly. And everytime you start to feel guilty, you tell yourself it’s not that deep. It’s not like you’re dating either of them. There are no labels, no promises—just a little fun between friends. You tell yourself you’re doing everyone a favor by keeping it quiet. Less drama, more orgasms.

But here you are, dodging suspicious glances and hiding love bites that you lost the willpower to prevent them from leaving. You don’t know when it turned from an incident you never mentioned into a secret you were actively hiding. Yet, you can’t seem to gather the strength to end it.

They’re both so good to you in different ways. Suguru’s mean with it—slow, calculated, and obsessed with watching you fall apart under him like it’s a test you’re destined to fail. He doesn’t eat pussy for your pleasure, he does it for his. And he definitely doesn’t care if you’re crying, shaking, begging for him to stop it. In fact, he gets off on it.

And Satoru? He’s playful and reckless. Loves making a mess, loves the way you moan his name like it’s the only word you can manage. He’ll finger you until you’re cursing him out, laugh in your face, then kiss you like he’s sorry—he never is. He’s the type to talk you through it, tell you how good you’re doing like you’re not already folded in half.

You know it’s greedy, but how could you give up something so perfect?. Suguru ruins you. Satoru spoils you. And neither one has ever left you wanting.

—

At first, it was easy. A well-timed hoodie, a shrug when someone asked why you were limping, a quick text before walking into a room. But now it’s starting to feel like a game of chess you didn’t realize you were playing—one wrong move and everything crumbles. And lately... you can feel them getting suspicious.

Satoru’s getting clingier. Suguru’s getting bolder. And you’re getting worse at lying.

They’re starting to notice the little things: how you double take when they’re both in the same room. How you hesitate before answering a simple, “What did you do yesterday?”

One night, you catch Satoru eyeing the hickey that wasn’t his doing. He asks you about it, and you contemplate gaslighting him, just a little. Your brain blanks for half a second. You could lie. Say it’s a bug bite, or it's from training. Say it’s none of his business. But Satoru’s a lot of things—irresponsible, infuriating, always fifteen minutes late—but he’s not dumb.

So instead, you try a different tactic. You lean in, play up the pout, and stroke his ego like it’s the only card in your deck.

“You were away for so long on your mission,” you say, voice soft and sweet. “Needed someone to fill the void.”

His head tilts a little more. The grin he gives you isn’t the usual goofy one—it’s lazier. Measured, even.

“Oh?” he says. He steps in closer, thumb brushing the skin just below the bruise. “So I leave town for three days and you get lonely enough to let someone else mark you up?”

You smirk, trying to keep it light. “You weren’t answering your phone.”

“Baby, you could’ve waited,” he murmurs, mock-offended, but there’s something else under it. “Or at least been more subtle about it.”

Your stomach tightens. But when he doesn’t press further, when his lips find yours like nothing happened—fast and hungry, with a little too much bite—you let yourself believe it’s over.

Relief floods you as he drops it. He fucks you like he came to do—like he’s staking a claim. Deep and drawn out, cocky and possessive, just the way he knows you like it. He makes sure you fall apart on him, over and over, until your limbs are trembling and your head’s empty. You think it’s because he felt some type of way about the hickey.

And maybe he did. But there's also something else. He wore you out, kept you distracted. Because Satoru doesn’t drop anything. He just waits for the right time to play his hand.

—

The next day, it’s Suguru. You’re stretched out beneath him, relaxed and smiling as his lips trail down your neck, slower than usual. His hand grips your thigh, and he murmurs something against your skin that makes you laugh.

And then he pauses. Right above your shoulder, tucked neatly behind the stack of books on your nightstand, something glints. Suguru leans back just slightly, gaze sharpening.

“Why do you have these?” he asks softly. He reaches for it without asking.

Satoru’s sunglasses. Suguru holds them up by one arm, expression unreadable. You sit up fast, tugging the sheet over your chest, brain scrambling for the cleanest lie you can find.

“He left them,” you say, too quickly. “He stopped by to drop something off.”

Suguru raises a brow. “I didn’t know he comes around here.”

You nod, adding a shrug. “It was quick. I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

He hums, like he’s mulling it over. He sets the sunglasses down on your nightstand gently, like he doesn’t want to damage evidence.

“You know Satoru,” you add with a weak laugh, trying to reclaim the energy. “He leaves his stuff everywhere.”

“Mm,” Suguru says, leaning back, stretching one arm behind him against the headboard.

And just like that, it’s gone. No more questions or accusations. He kisses you again, slower this time. His hand returns to your thigh like nothing happened. Like the sunglasses aren’t still sitting in plain view. As if he believes you.

Suguru lets you come undone under him—lets you think you’ve gotten away with it. But while you cry and squirm as he eats you out, he’s already plotting.

—

They start escalating their time with you. Longer nights, rougher sex. Lingering touches that aren’t quite tender, but aren’t fully impersonal either. And no one talks about it.

Satoru starts leaving marks, bite-sized proof of his presence. One under your jaw, just visible enough to catch the light in a mirror. When Suguru sees it, he doesn’t mention it. He just ups the ante. He leaves your inner thighs littered with light bruises that make you gasp when you see yourself in the mirror.

You’re a canvas in a silent war. Every bruise, scratch, and bite is a message: I was here. Remember that.

They start texting you more. Not in a clingy way—just… more. Checking in, asking where you are. Sending casual “come over?” messages at odd hours. The worst part is when they both text you at the exact same time. You freeze. Delay your reply.

Your excuse—Sorry, I fell asleep—is suspiciously vague. Neither of them calls you out for it. But you can feel the shift.

Satoru gets weird about it later. You’re curled up on his bed, half-naked, absentmindedly texting Shoko back while he’s sprawled beside you. He peeks over, and grins.

“Don’t tell me you’re talking to your side piece when I’m right here, sweetheart.”

He says it like a joke, but his fingers wrap around your ankle just a little tighter. His eyes stay on your screen a second too long.

—

They’re finally alone together at the training grounds with no one around to interrupt. The air is thick with something unspoken. Suguru breaks the silence first.

“What color is her favorite underwear?”

Satoru doesn’t even glance up. “Black. The lacey ones, not the pair with the bow.”

Suguru nods once, thoughtful.

“Does she cream or squirt?” Satoru counters.

“That’s a trick question,” Suguru snorts. “Both.”

A quiet beat. Then a low, disbelieving chuckle as Satoru confirms his suspicions.

“No fucking way.”

Suguru sighs, “Of course it’s you.”

“How long have you been fucking her?” Satoru asks, finally looking over at his best friend.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” Suguru replies smoothly.

Satoru grins, sharp and satisfied. “Never took you as the type to share.”

“I’m not,” Suguru says. He picks at a thread on his sleeve, voice cool. “You were the secret.”

That earns a slow, amused blink from Satoru. “That’s funny, ‘cause she slept with me first, no?”

“And yet she still sought me out,” Suguru says, leaning back lazily. “Guess you didn’t satisfy her.”

“Alright—” Satoru laughs, no real offense taken, just that usual spark of challenge lighting him up.

They’re not mad, and they’re definitely not hurt. They’re not about to fall out over a girl. But they are curious. Competitive. Possessive in their own uniquely fucked up ways.

"You got that crazy look in your eye again," Suguru observes. "Plotting already?"

Satoru laughs, more excited than he's been in a long time. You’ve been playing both sides. Now they’re going to play back, together.

—

Their confrontation isn’t a fight. It’s an experiment.

They don’t blow up your phone, catch you in a hallway, or pin you with accusations. They wait. Watch. Cross-reference everything you've said with everything they already know. And when the moment comes, they don’t come at you separately. They corner you together.

It starts with a text from Suguru, concise as usual: “Come over.”

When you let yourself inside, there’s a familiar presence already waiting for you.

Satoru’s sprawled on the couch, sunglasses pushed up into his messy white hair, a cocky grin spreading across his face when he sees you.

“Well, well,” he says, voice dripping with amusement. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Behind him, Suguru smirks. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a party.”

You force a smile, trying to keep your cool. “Didn’t know I was late to anything.”

Suguru’s eyes flick to your neck, lingering a moment too long.

“We were just talking about last night,” he says, voice smooth and casual. “You know, your little disappearing act.”

You take your shoes off, anything to redirect your nervous energy. “I told you—I went home.”

“Yeah?” Satoru leans forward, chin resting on his palm, all sharp teeth and faux innocence. “Funny. I thought I saw you leaving the station around midnight. Wearing the same hoodie I left at your place. Weird, right?”

Suguru raises a brow. “I could’ve sworn you told me you were in bed by eleven.”

Your heart skips a beat. You laugh, too light, trying to play it off.

“What, are you two comparing notes now?”

Satoru grins wider, like you’ve handed him the answer on a silver platter. “So there are notes to compare.”

The three of you settle into an easy, charged silence.

“Must be exhausting,” Suguru murmurs, voice smooth. “Keeping the stories straight.”

You open your mouth, searching for a response—something witty, something distracting—but nothing comes fast enough.

“You’re not in trouble,” Satoru says lightly, gesturing for you to sit down next to him. “We’re not mad.”

Hesitantly, you take a seat. You’re still avoiding eye contact with both of them.

“Just curious,” Suguru adds. “About how long you thought you could juggle us without getting caught.”

The words aren’t cruel. They’re quiet. Calm. Amused. And that’s the scariest part. Because they’re not lashing out, they’re leaning in.

“What do you want me to say?” you murmur, trying to keep your voice steady.

Satoru shrugs. “Nothing, if it’s gonna be a lie.”

Suguru tips his head, eyes dark and unblinking. “We know, sweetheart. We just wanted to see if you’d come clean.”

They’re testing you. Watching how you move under pressure. Every answer, every flick of your eyes, every shift in your body language is another piece of their puzzle.

You thought you were playing them, that you could fuck them both and keep it casual. Clean. You didn’t even realize you stopped being the one pulling the strings.

“Look,” you say slowly, deliberately, ��no one said this was exclusive.”

“Totally agree,” Satoru says, tone chipper.

“Not the point,” Suguru adds.

Satoru’s eyes glint wildly. “You were sneaky about it, though. That’s kind of hot.”

“Mm,” Suguru hums. “Or maybe she just didn’t want us to find out.”

Satoru leans in, voice low against your ear. “Too bad.”

“I didn’t think it mattered,” you try to defend yourself.

“Oh, it doesn’t. Not to me,” Satoru says, arms crossed, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “But you could’ve said something. Like, ‘hey, by the way, I’m regularly in both of your beds.’ Would’ve saved us a whole week of unspoken tension.”

“She’s not sorry,” Suguru observes coolly.

“Not even a little,” Satoru laughs. “Look at her.”

You can’t deny it—your pulse is thundering, thighs pressed together like that might hide anything. It doesn’t.

“We were talking about it,” Suguru continues, stepping forward until his legs bump yours. “Trying to figure out who you like more.”

“Or if you even care which cock’s inside you,” Satoru adds, a smirk curling his mouth.

Your breath catches, and you could tell they’ve noticed with the way the corners of their mouth lift up. You hate how easily they read you.

“You wanted both of us?” Suguru says, voice dipped in velvet and threat. He leans down, so close his lips almost brush yours. “Now you’ve got us.”

Satoru tilts his head mockingly. “Don’t go shy now, pretty thing. You wanted to act like a slut behind our backs?” His smile disappears. “Why dont'cha show us how well you can take it.”

They’re not angry, they’re interested. Curious about how far you’ll let this go. And tonight, they’ve decided they’re not going to take turns anymore.

You open your mouth, about to toss something cocky back—but then Satoru snaps his fingers, and suddenly you can’t move off of the couch. You blink, startled. There’s nothing visible, but you can feel it. Your hand lifts, testing, only to slow down in front of you.

You’re trapped, breathless, while the two of them move in tandem. Suguru steps up behind Satoru, one hand on his shoulder, and Satoru lets him. They’re close—too close—and for a long, deliberate moment, they ignore you entirely. Then they kiss, slow and hungry.

Satoru’s fingers knot in Suguru’s hair, and Suguru tilts his head, mouthing at him like he needs it to live. Their mouths part just enough for a soft sound to escape—wet and low, and you can only watch. You try to lean in, try to reach, yet you’re still so far.

“Mm-mm.” Satoru tsks, lips swollen as he pulls back just a breath. “You don’t get to touch. You can watch.” His eyes flick over you, cruel, indulgent. “Since you like having it both ways.”

“Let her squirm,” Suguru murmurs, licking into Satoru’s mouth again like he wants to make you suffer with it.

When they finally let you move, you stumble towards them—body flushed, core throbbing, and aching for any of them. You don’t even remember how you got to the couch. One moment, you’re breaking them apart, and the next, Satoru’s behind you on his knees, shoving your thighs apart while Suguru forces your wrists up over your head. One cruel lick up your slit, and the words in your throat die.

“She’s dripping,” Satoru hums. “Knew she’d like that.”

“You don’t get to come,” Suguru warns, cock slapping against your lips. “Not until we say.”

You moan around him. You can't help it. Your mouth is full, your cunt is wet, and you’re losing the ability to think.

“She’s grinding on my face,” Satoru laughs against your pussy. “Fucking greedy tonight.”

Suguru thrusts just enough to make your eyes sting. “You made her like this,” he tells his best friend. “Spoiled her too much. She needs discipline.”

“Then discipline her.” Satoru’s voice is rough now, and he licks his lips as he rises. “I’ll make sure she breaks.”

He doesn’t even give you time to beg. One hand pins your hips while the other guides himself to your entrance, stretching you wide, inch by slow inch. It’s too much—he’s thick, too deep—and your back arches in protest and pleasure.

But before you can adjust, Suguru lifts you up and moves behind you. Feeling his member pressing against your ass, your eyes go wide.

“W-wait—!”

“No.” Satoru smiles like a knife. “You wanted both of us, remember?”

You cry out, but they’re patient, unbearably patient, as Suguru lines himself up and pushes inside, slick and slow until you’re full to the brim, stuffed with both of them.

“Fuck—look at her.” Satoru grits out, hands digging into your thighs. “Tight little hole trying to squeeze us both.”

Embarrassingly, you cum hard from feeling so full. You’re gasping, shaking, broken open around them. They both laugh at you, and all you can do is let your head fall back onto Suguru’s shoulder.

“Move,” Suguru tells his friend.

And they do—thrusting in tandem, then off-rhythm, dragging every nerve-ending raw. You can’t tell who’s deeper, who’s rougher, who’s more merciless. You’re split wide, used, and every inch of you is burning.

“She’s close again,” Satoru pants. “She’s fluttering—oh!”

“She hasn’t earned it,” Suguru snarls, grabbing your chin and forcing your eyes up to meet his. “You come when we say.”

“I—I can’t—!”

“Yes, you can,” Satoru hisses, fucking into you harder. “You wanted to be our dirty little secret, didn’t you?”

“So take your consequences,” Suguru finishes, voice barely audible over the sounds of your juices squelching.

You’re sobbing now—mindless, ruined. All you can do is try to keep yourself upright as they use you freely.

“You’re not cumming till we say so,” Suguru growls, amused by the sight of your spit and tears smeared across your face. “Say it.”

“N-no! Fuck, I—I can’t—”

“Say it,” both of them bark in unison.

“I won’t come without permission!” you cry, voice hoarse.

“Good girl,” Satoru coos sweetly, like he’s not destroying you from the inside out.

“Now let’s see how long you can last.”

They don’t give you room to breathe. Satoru’s hand curls around your throat, just tight enough to make your pulse flutter. “Don’t get lazy on us now, sweetheart,” he purrs, hips slamming into yours. “Thought you could handle us both.”

“You begged for it, remember?” Suguru grunts behind you, fisting your hair and dragging your head back so he can watch the tears streak down your cheeks. “You said you wanted to be fucked stupid.”

You are stupid for it—giddy and cock-drunk, lips parted around helpless moans as they use your body like it’s theirs. And it is, now. You can’t imagine fucking anyone else, not after this. One of them might not be enough anymore. It’s selfish, but how could you not be greedy with the way they’re ruining you?

Every thrust pushes you forward, only for the other to shove you right back—a perfect, brutal rhythm, two cocks dragging along every inch of your stretched walls. You're soaked, messy, completely ruined—and it’s still not enough.

“Oh, she’s shaking again,” Satoru laughs breathlessly, sweat clinging to his hairline.

“Good,” Suguru mutters, voice dark with pleasure. “Little slut should be grateful we’re using her like this.”

You sob out something between a moan and a broken plea, clinging to Suguru’s arm, your fingernails digging into him.

“Please,” you whimper. “P-please, let me come—mmph! Please, I—I’ll be good!”

Satoru groans like it physically turns him on to hear it. “Oh, you are good when you’re begging.”

“Not yet,” Suguru growls, though he’s getting close. His thrusts turn rougher, sloppier, cock dragging deeper with every grind of his hips. “You’ll take everything we give you first.”

“Every drop,” Satoru echoes, his thrusts hitting something devastating that makes your eyes roll back. “Fuck, you wanna be filled up, baby?”

“Yes! Yes, unghh, please—!” you babble, nearly sobbing. “I want it— want your cum, I wanna be full, fuck. Please, please give it to me!”

Your desparation does something to them. Suguru swears viciously, his hands bruising your hips, while Satoru’s eyes blow wide and wild.

“Filthy little cumdump,” he growls, nearly feral. “Fucking say it. Say what you want.”

“Need your cum,” you gasp, drooling, delirious. “Want you both to come in me, want it dripping out of me! Fuck, please—”

“Shit—she’s squeezing so tight,” Satoru’s voice breaks as he slams into you with bruising force.

“Take it, then,” Suguru snarls, and with a final thrust, he’s spilling inside you, cock twitching as he groans low in your ear. “Fucking take it. Greedy little hole’s gonna be leaking for days.”

Satoru’s not far behind—his hips stutter, then still, and you feel the hot flood of him deep inside, cock still pulsing as he pants against your neck.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, almost dazed. “Fucked so full of our cum…”

Your body gives out, boneless, shaking—but they hold you there, both of them still buried inside, still twitching from the aftershocks.

Between them, you’re stretched wide, cum already starting to seep out around their cocks. You’re trembling—wrecked, fucked open, completely full. Both of them are still buried to the hilt, their cum hot and thick inside you.

Satoru’s the first to break the silence, brushing damp hair off your face as he grins down at you. “You know,” he says casually, “I think that settles the debate.”

Suguru raises a brow behind you. “Which debate?”

“Who she likes more.”

You let out a strangled laugh that turns into a gasp when Satoru shifts his hips, cock still nestled deep inside.

“Don’t make me choose,” you mumble, mind floating somewhere in the clouds.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Suguru drawls, nipping lazily at your shoulder. “You’re getting both from now on. Just how you liked it, eh?”

“Think you can keep up, baby?” Satoru murmurs. “Because we’re not done spoiling you yet.”

Suguru hums, pulling out slowly just to watch you twitch. “Not by a long shot.”

And just like that, your reprieve is over. The smirks on their faces say you’ve started something they have no intention of letting end.

a/n: first time writing a threesome, i feel like i didn't do the idea justice but i tried,, lmk what you think!!

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twovialsofamortentia · 1 day ago

Note

plzzzzz james smut where y’all r close friends and kind of randomly become fwb???? subby james that’s a giver🙏🙏🙏

🎧 into you - ariana grande

a/n: this is literally straight porn and i apologise if it’s terrible because i’m high as a fucking kite

warnings: smut 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, oral f receiving, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, casual sex, sub!james, not proofread + i was fried when i wrote it so

When you were still students at Hogwarts, you were no stranger to seeing James before he went off to get ready for a quidditch match, because he often came up to ask you where you and the marauders would be watching, so that he could pick you all out in the stands as a reminder that he was a star player and you were all rooting for him.

Now, though, James and Sirius were returning, a couple of years later to play some matches for Gryffindor- some sort of alumni thing that you didn’t quite care about, you just wanted to see your old stomping ground and make fun of Sirius for having lost his touch.

A couple of times when you were still in school, you had listened in on the pep talks he gave the rest of the team, when he was in his quidditch gear. But James had never come up to you or approached you directly in his quidditch gear, so when he came pacing up to you in the courtyard decked head-to-toe, you were slightly taken aback.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, bewildered, rising quickly to your feet from the sill you were perched in. You had snuck away to the courtyard whilst it was empty to have a cigarette before the game, the way you used to, for nostalgia’s sake.

“This game’s gonna go all wrong!”

Your eyes widened, and you stumbled forward to catch up with James as he stormed off back in the direction of the quidditch pitch. His legs were long, so you almost had to run to catch up with him.

“James, what on earth are you talking about? It’s-” you glanced down at your watch, cursing yourself because your diverted focus made you fall out of step with James. “You’re supposed to be playing in fifteen minutes!”

“Billie said something’s going to go wrong.” James insisted, overemphasising every word to really hammer it home how stressed he was about this.

You rolled your eyes, sighing. James’ issue was that he was too trusting. He was in no way gullible, because he was a a prankster himself, and quite simply just smarter than that, but if someone was telling him something that they believed to be the truth, James took it as gospel.

So, naturally, this meant that James heard what Sybill Trelawney had to say when she came bounding up to him as he came out of the changing rooms. James had a lot of time for Sybill- although he used to make fun of her sometimes, he respected her for being so honest- and he knew that she was your friend. So when she told him the game was going to be a disaster, it freaked him all the way out.

“Sybill said that to you?” you asked quizzically, following James into the now empty changing room.

James stopped in front of you and turned to face you, pushing a hand roughly through his hair, so it tugged, the way he always did when he was nervous. He let out an exasperated sigh, before explaining:

“She- she came running up to me, said she’d seen it, something’s gonna go horribly wrong, that we shouldn’t play.”

“O-kay, calm down,” you began, unsure of why James was getting so worked up. “What d’you mean, go wrong?”

“I- I don’t know! That’s just what she said! I’m gonna have to go and tell the boys we can’t play, she was really, serious, mate-”

“Don’t be ridiculous, James, you have to play.”

James groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. He shook his head again, even though you could see on his face that he was thinking about it. He was nervous, now, that was what it was. He had got in his own head the way that he did, and he wasn’t helping himself.

You weren’t sure what the best strategy was to deal with James when he got worked up like this. It was usually a job for Sirius- they’d go off somewhere and come back two hours later laughing.

“I- I can’t! There’s no way- we- Billie said we shouldn’t, if she’s right-“

You vaguely remembered Sirius saying something along the vein of giving James a ‘shock to the system.’ You weren’t sure how that made any sense, though, because James’ system seemed pretty fucking shocked as it was.

But James wasn’t calming down, in fact, he was getting a whole lot more worked up, and that was starting to stress you out, so in your frantic rush to sort him the fuck out so that he would get on the pitch and play quidditch, you grabbed his face either side, leaned up onto your tiptoes, and kissed him, hard.

James kissed back before he could think about it, his mouth moving against yours in perfect sync, and it wasn’t until you took a step back that his eyes widened and he realised what you’d just done.

“Uh..” he began, but you cut him off quickly.

“Sorry.” you sighed regretfully. “That was stupid, but you were panicking, and I couldn’t think of any other way to shut you up.”

James nodded slowly, taking in what had just happened and the fact that, as a result, he was already painfully hard. He blinked down at you, eyelashes fluttering as his mouth opened and closed a few times, processing.

He probably should have walked out and found the rest of the team. Or thanked you for calming him down and agreeing to just be friends and move on. He should have done literally anything else other than what he did. That would have been the smart decision. But this was James, and quite frankly, in these types of situations, he was really rather stupid.

“So, I’m gonna-”

“Yeah, please do.” you nodded, and then James was on you again, hands on your face, lips on yours. His fingers trailed into your hair as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

You cursed yourself for doing it, but you took two steps back and pressed yourself up against the nearest wall, then reached out to yank at the bottom of James’ quidditch jersey. He reciprocated, sliding his hands up under your shirt, and, like the man that he was, grasping both of your tits, kneading them tightly in his hands until that wasn’t enough.

You reached for the hem of your shirt and tugged it off over your head, and as you threw it away, you caught James’ gaze. It made you realise what you were doing, and who you were doing it with.

“Listen, I’m not- not like, in love with you, or anything- I just-“

“Yeah, yeah me neither-“ James huffed, reaching behind you to unclip your bra. “Just- fuck, I need you.”

“You’re gonna miss the start of the match-”

“I’ll be quick.” James told you. You couldn’t argue with that. A smirk spread across your lips and you gave James a playful shove, so that he took two steps back, dragging you with him by your hand, and sat down on the bench in the middle of the changing room. You pulled your wand out of your pocket and pointed it behind you to lock the door, before shimmying out of the rest of your clothes, leaving a little trail.

James watched you, blinking rapidly, unsure of whether or not he’d hit his head and this was a strange comatose dream- him, back at school, about to have sex with a girl he’d been friends with his whole life.

“How are you gonna fuck me with your clothes on, mate?” you asked sarcastically, hands on your hips as you waited for James.

“Oh- right.” James lifted his hips to slide the bottom half of his quidditch gear off. He hissed when the cold air hit his leaking cock, but when you climbed on top of him and buried it all the way inside you, James let out a strangled whine, voice cracking.

You huffed, and let out a breathless laugh in disbelief that you were actually about to start riding James, in the quidditch changing rooms, as if this was an enactment of some childish fever dream you’d had some years ago.

But, when James’ hands flew to your waist and his eyelids fluttered shut as he started to rock you back and forth against him, you realised there was nothing funny about it.

And James looked good. Pupils blown, lips swollen, everything you’d never expected to see from him, and now he was whimpering little huffs of your name and leaning you back so he could bounce you off of his cock.

“Oh-!” you gasped, dropping your head on James’ shoulder, driving your hips down. “Fuck me.”

“Fuck, fuck-” James breathed heavily, eyes scanning your face rapidly, taking in the way it softened and tensed when you were feeling different levels of pleasure.

It was all James could do not to blow a load inside you as soon as you started riding him, but when you steadied your hands on the coathooks behind his head and started actually bouncing on him, sliding yourself up and down his length, James had to try a lot harder.

“Hah-!” he breathed, tilting his head back to look up at you as you hovered over him. “Ah-! Fuck, yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes! Please-”

That sent a shockwave of arousal tearing through you like a bullet. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you let out a moan, and it was becoming increasingly more obvious that having sex with James was a strange sort of back-and-forth exchange: you got off on him being so desperate, and he was desperate to get you off. It was sickeningly cyclical, and it made you think that this could well become more than a one-off, because it just seemed to work so well.

Rather presumptuously, you had expected James to be like any other man and see it through to his own orgasm before worrying about you, if at all. That idea was proven strikingly wrong when James lifted you up and laid you down across the bench.

So you opened your mouth to tell him it was okay, that you were short on time so he could just fuck you, but then he sank his two middle fingers into your cunt and curved them up to prod at your g-spot.

You saw stars.

“Fucking hell!” you hissed, throwing your head back. Your hands came up to grip James’ arms, fingers wrapping around his biceps, squeezing them to steady yourself, mostly, but also because you’d spent your whole life looking at them and curiosity got the better of you.

James’ jaw dropped in interactional synchrony with yours, and he let out a quiet little laugh at the caught-off-guard look on your face, knowing he must have been doing something right.

“Feel good?” he asked you, head tilted to one side as he began to speed up the pace of his fingers.

“Yeah,” you answered, punctuating it with a low moan. “Yeah, fuck.”

James smiled, pleased to be doing a good job, and started pumping his fingers in and out of you harder. Then faster. Then harder again.

Then you were losing your breath. You let the moans and curses tumble freely from your lips, becoming more and more frequent the closer you got to the edge.

But it wasn’t until James used his free hand to hook your right leg over his shoulder and bury his face between your thighs that you really screamed. When he dragged his tongue over your clit as his fingers brushed against the right spot inside you, you had to slap a hand over your mouth, inhaling sharply through your nose.

“Mmph-” James hummed against your core, bringing his hand from under your thigh to tug your hand away from your mouth. If he hadn’t been desperate to suffocate himself against your cunt, he’d have told you he was desperate to hear your pretty noises, but James’ mouth was otherwise occupied.

You let out what was more of an undignified, strangled sob than another moan when you came, and you felt warmth shooting out of you for the first time in your life. You gasped as you felt it soaking the backs of your thighs and the bench underneath you, and when James pulled away, grinning like the devil, you noticed it had coated his face, too.

Chasing your other release, you unhooked your leg from James’ shoulder and wrapped it around his waist to drag him closer so that he could slip inside you again.

“I’m not-” James sighed, eyes flicking closed. “Not gonna last-! That was so hot.”

“Don’t care, just give it to me.”

James nodded feverishly, gripping you by the hips and dragging you all the way down onto his cock, bottoming out inside you. He wasted no time in snapping his hips flush with yours again, and then again, until his glasses were sitting wonky on his face his hair had fallen down over his eyes.

You let your hands come to rest above you, one wrist either side of your head, and you could have sworn that when James’ fingers slipped between the two of you to dote on your sensitive clit again, everything went slow motion.

It took a couple of minutes of James circling the bundle of nerves to get you really whining again, but James was more than happy to oblige because of how desperately he craved the feeling of you coming undone beneath him again. It was almost imperative to his own release, it seemed.

“Fuuuck,” you groaned, long and drawn out. You were seriously close. Again. “Please don’t stop.”

“Course not.” James told you smugly. After huffing out a laugh at the notion that he’d ever be able to walk away without making you feel good, he leaned down to catch your lips in a passionate kiss, tongue slipping straight past your teeth and into your mouth.

As your body tensed more and more by the second, you found yourself wondering if you would have ever imagined James being so eager to please you if you hadn’t seen the way he was acting now. But that train of thought was hastily derailed when you felt another orgasm sneaking up on you.

“James,” you mused. “Like that, yeah.”

“Like- like this?” he asked breathlessly, gripping your hips tighter, fucking you faster. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“Mhm?”

“Yeah.” he nodded. “Yes. Please- please.”

Even as James’ hips were stuttering against yours and he was pulling out, cum leaking agent your thigh, he was still pushing circles into your clit.

“Fuuuck- Ah! Oh, fuckfuckfuck, yes.” he babbled, dragging his hand up and down his length to finish himself off, although it was too close a call for his liking.

When James bad gotten over the worst of his orgasm, and his lightheadedness had subsided, you were cumming, then, and you came so violently that your thighs began to shake while your hips were still bucking upwards against James’ hand.

When you had finally recovered, James pulled away from you and sat back on his knees gazing down at you. However, his eyes drifted away momentarily, and he’d caught sight of the clock on the wall.

“Shit!” he gasped. “Fuck, I’m late!”

“Well, they can’t exactly start without you, mate.” you replied plainly, not making the effort to move just yet.

James thought for a second.

“True.”

“Maybe get dressed anyway?!” you laughed, finally sitting up. James laughed too, pulling his quidditch gear back on and making sure it wasn’t overly askew.

You got dressed, too, and it was really an effort not to laugh at the absurdity of what you’d just done, where you’d done it, and who you’d done it with.

“James.” you said as he was about to unlock the door with his wand.

He turned around.

“Hm?”

“I think,” you began, folding your arms. “Think I wouldn’t mind doing that again.”

It was more obvious in that moment than ever who you were dealing with here, because the wicked grin that spread across James’ face was so uniquely his, and the casual pout and pretending to think about it was so playfully irritating that it could only have come from him.

James unlocked the door with a swish of his wand and a muttered alohamora, before turning back to face you.

“Yeah, alright.” he shrugged.

“Only if you win the match, though.”

“There’s no way I’ll lose now, mate.” James laughed heartily, seemingly thoroughly amused at the notion he’d ever even think about losing whilst he was still riding on the high of making you feel so good. “Obviously I’m not as unlucky as I thought.”

You giggled, shaking your head. Leaning against the coat hooks of the bench you’d just disgraced, you folded your arms and watched James go.

He took a moment before went, picking up his broom from where he’d discarded it in the doorway during his initial panic. Then he fired you a mischievous wink, pulled the hood of his cloak up and slipped out of the changing room, headed for the pitch.

#marauders #marauders era #dead wizards from the 70s #dead gay wizards from the 70s #james potter #james potter smut #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x reader

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prettydaisygirl · 3 days ago

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hi babes. I love your James fire chiefX pregnant reader serie

Can you do one about the reader having a hard natural birth but in then all ends well? a mix of angst and fluff, please 🙏

Love your work ♡

hiii lovely! Thank you so much for your request, I can't wait to write him as a dad now too :))) I hope you enjoy this one, though I will say I made the birth vague because I have no knowledge or experience with labor lol okay hope you enjoy, lovely! <3

firechief!James Potter x fem!reader who goes into labor at the worst time ✿ 1.2k words

cw: fem!pregnant!reader, birth scene (vague), emt!Reggie helps reader give birth, unexpected birth/home birth, i'm sorry that the extent of my birth knowledge comes from grey's anantomy

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

It had been a relatively easy, calm day for James and his crew at the fire station. So much so that he’s already uneasy. He doesn’t like sitting still, it makes him anxious. He’s already borderline frantic knowing that you’re sitting at home, ready to go into labor at any moment. This is his last shift before he has some time off to spend with you and the baby.

So, despite the fact that he continues to say he’s not an anxious person, he’s worried about you.

It gets worse when the newbie says “Wow, it’s been a good day!”

Immediately, a sharp tension takes over the crew. James’ shoulders tighten, and Sirius says “mate.” while rubbing his temples with his fingers.

James knows things are inevitably going to go wrong.

They do. Almost immediately the station gets swamped with calls, and he has to split everyone up for fires at multiple locations.

James heads to one scene, barking orders at the other men, though not in a cruel way, just loud and instructive. He needs them to move faster, always faster, as flames threaten to consume the entire building. Water sprays viscously from hoses, people run around frantically, and firefighters yell at each other over the roar of the flames.

In the midst of all the chaos, James doesn’t hear his phone ring. Not the first time, or the second, or the third. In fact, by the time he manages to glance at the screen, there are 13 missed calls from you. His heart sinks and he immediately presses answer when you call again, raising the phone to his ear.

“Is everything okay, Angel?” He plugs his other ear to try and each better, taking a few steps away from the scene, though it doesn’t block much of the sound of his pounding heart or the commotion of the fire.

“Well, um…” Your voice is shaky, a bit strained. You take a deep breath and speak again. “I think I’m in labor.”

He’s been expecting this call. Of course it happens at the worst possible time, and his heart leaps into his throat. “Did your water break?”

You don’t answer the question right away, and when you do, it’s not the answer he is expecting. Or wanting.

“Well, um…” You start slowly again, a nervous habit when you have to really think about each word coming out of your mouth. “Actually, it broke a few hours ago.”

This time it feels like his heart stops entirely, the scene around him drowned out by worry and the rush of blood to his ears.

“*What?*” He takes a few more steps away, “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Well, I- I know most women have ah- hours after their water breaks, especially with their first birth, and so I thought I’d let you finish out your shift. But now my contractions are ah- only a minute or two apart.”

Fuck.

“Okay, Angel just… lay down, breathe through it, and I’m going to be right there.” James almost drops his phone as he stomps his way back to the scene.

“Please don’t hang up!” You cry out on the other end, forcing yourself to breathe. He can hear it, feel your panic through each inhale and exhale.

“I’m not, I’m not, baby. Just hang on.” James doesn’t know what to do, he can’t think, he can’t breathe even though he’s telling you to. His eyes land on Sirius, and he stomps over quickly.

“I have to go.” He kicks into Sirius’ shoulder a bit, just enough to get his attention, leaning in so his best mate can hear him.

“Now?” Sirius glances back at the still roaring fire.

“She’s in labor!” James tells Sirius, whose eyes widen dramatically and he starts nodding and shoving James in the direction of some ambulances.

“Go!” Sirius encourages with a nod, “Take Reggie’s ambulance, I’ll take over!”

“Thank you!” James manages to say before breaking into a run toward the ambulance, his body resisting due to the weight of all of his equipment. Reggie, Sirius’ younger brother, hops into the driver's seat without question.

“Where are we going?” He asks as James moves to climb in the back. He tells Reggie his address and the two are off, lights and sirens.

The whole time, the sound of your breathing and curses of pain reach his ears, he tries to calm you by whispering soothing words of his own into the line. He doesn’t know if it’s helping.

“James.” You groan, hissing an inhale through your teeth. His heart pounds, you only call him by his full name when you’re really stressed. “I think the baby is coming right now.”

“Just- just hold on.” He doesn’t know what to do. Reggie drives faster, turning onto your street. “We’re almost there, angel, just a minute.”

“I don’t know if I have a minute!” You screech into the phone, and James doesn’t know whether you’re truly about to have the baby or if you’re just scared.

He doesn’t even wait for Reggie to fully stop the ambulance before he hops out, running inside. He finds you in the bedroom, sweating and grimacing, and runs to your side.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” James coos softly, trying to soothe and take in the entire situation. “I have to see where you’re at baby, can I look?”

You nod, grimacing as James lifts up your maternity dress to look between your legs. Obviously he’s been there plenty of times before but… it feels a bit different this time.

James isn’t entirely sure what he’s supposed to be looking for initially, but it becomes obvious when he looks. Because he can see the head already.

“Reggie!” He calls out to the EMT, who darts into the bedroom behind him. He takes in the scene and quickly realizes what’s going on, that there’s no time to get to the hospital.

“Shit, okay.” Reggie takes James’ place, and James moves up by your head to hold your hand.

Everything happens quickly from there. Reggie is able to talk you through what to do. James feels like he might pass out, but he focuses on you. Looking at you, brushing your hair away from your sweaty forehead, letting you squeeze his hand as hard as you need.

This is definitely *not* the birth plan the two of you had made.

But when all is said and done, when the two of you hear the baby cry and James helps you into the Ambulance to head to the hospital, he finds himself oddly calm. He holds his newborn son as Reggie wheels you into the ER. The doctors check over the both of you, and though they’d like to admit you for a few days just for observation, James still only feels euphoric.

Because everything is fine, you are healthy and safe, and you’ve given him a son.

James can’t find it in himself to stay panicked. Like he says, he’s never been an anxious person.

He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, then the baby’s.

“I love you.” He whispers to the baby, and then his eyes meet yours. “I love you.”

You blink exhaustedly, but smile, and cuddle your son tighter to your chest.

“I love you too.”

°˖✧✿✧˖°

#daisy's writings #james potter #firechief!james potter #firefighter!james potter #james potter au #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter drabble #james potter x fem!reader #marauders fic #hp marauders #james potter angst #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfiction #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #regulus black

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maladaptive-daydreamer-23 · 1 day ago

Text

Ode to Vixen

Part 1 • Part 2

A/N: If anyone needs me, I’ll be sitting in the corner doing penance and reflecting on the chaos I’m about to unleash.

Love,

Mal ❤️🖤🩶

P.S. THANK YOU @cringeiknow for betaing this!!

Warnings: 18+ beyond this point!! MDNI!!! I mean it! If I catch a minor in this bitch I’ll block you! Now that that’s been said: Canon typical violence, gun violence, age gap playfully mentioned but never specified, The dirty talk is thigh clenchingly DIRTY, again Hotch likes to watch, dirty jokes, slight strip tease, there’s a bit of a SWITCH vibe going on in this one I think, oh reader gets cuffed briefly (not by Hotch ya nasty), so much teasing, now for the good stuff; oral sex both fem and male receiving, 69, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, cowgirl position, some hair pulling if you squint, after care, morning sex. IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!

Pairing: Hotch x Bau!Reader

WC: 9.6k

AO3

Back to Mal’s Masterlist

When you’d given the signal—multiple times, just in case they missed it—you’d immediately gone to the locker room to get yourself out of the way of any over enthusiastic SWAT officers.

It was late, nearly closing time and other than a few night owl patrons, only employees were left in the building. You heard the flash bangs, the shouts of “FBI EVERYBODY ON THE GROUND!” You heard the screams of the girls and the gunfire that inevitably ensued.

That made your heart stall in your chest.

Your team was out there. Hotch was out there.

If you knew him half as well as you thought you did, you could almost guarantee that he’d been leading the raid. First one in, last one out. That was his style.

A leader through and through.

An incredibly sexy leader.

You knew the drill, the plan that the team had agreed on. You were to wait in the locker room until they came to get you. Given that you were unarmed and half naked, you couldn’t really complain.

Unfortunately, when the shooting started, all the other girls came running back to the locker room in search of safety as well.

Screaming their goddamn heads off.

So you could no longer hear the voices shouting in the main room of the club. Couldn’t make out the familiar ones from the strangers. Couldn’t hear him. Only screaming and gunfire. Pure chaos.

“QUIET!” You shouted, loud enough to get the attention of the crowd of trembling strippers. “They’re not after us, obviously, or they would’ve followed us back here. I saw a SWAT vest, the last bar I worked at got raided once. They’re trigger happy, the best thing we can do is sit along the wall with our hands on our heads. Make it clear we’re not a threat. Okay?”

The girls all stared at you wide eyed for a minute, then slowly nodded and began to do what you said.

“They’re probably gonna cuff us all until they figure out whether or not any of us are involved in… whatever it is they’re here about. Don’t fight and don’t panic. That’s a good way to get shot.” You continued. “Just cooperate and you’ll be fine, that’s what happened to me last time anyway.”

They nodded again and then silence fell over the locker room. The gunfire had died down, either they were all dead or the “bouncers” surrendered.

“The girls all ran this way.” You heard a familiar female voice out in the hall.

Doors started banging open one by one, until Emily and Derek finally came bursting in, followed by three members of SWAT. Guns raised, they scanned the room. Both their eyes showed a glimmer of relief as they passed over you, not daring to stop and show any more than a hint of recognition.

Emily was the first to holster her weapon and step further into the room.

“I’m SSA Emily Prentiss with the FBI.” She said, “You’re probably not in trouble, we just have a few questions and then you’ll most likely be free to go home. But you’ll probably need to find a new job, because this place is not going to reopen anytime soon.”

The girls all started to murmur amongst themselves, one named Star even leaned over to you and tried to whisper something. You shushed her gently and looked back toward Em and Derek.

“Ladies, please.” Derek quieted them, his weapon now holstered as well. “The first question we have is: who told you to sit like this if this ever happened? Was it your boss?”

As one, every woman in the room—except Em and yourself—pointed at you.

Derek raised a brow.

“Didn’t wanna get shot.” You muttered distastefully, shrugging as though being on this end of a raid was a normal occurrence for you.

“Take that one to the van for more questioning. Be gentle with her though, she’s not in trouble, yet.” He instructed one of the SWAT officers. A woman. Thankfully. “And tell Hotch where you put her.”

And suddenly you could breathe again.

He was alive.

The officer cuffed you—not a great feeling, especially in lingerie—then she led you out through the club.

“Sir!” She called out to someone across the room, you followed her line of sight and found Hotch, Reid, JJ and Rossi on the other side of the room in a huddle.

They all looked over and saw you, cuffed.

“What have you got?” Hotch asked, doing his best to avoid eye contact with you. To seem disinterested.

“Agent Morgan said to take her to the Van for further questioning. He said to tell you where I was taking her.” She explained.

Hotch nodded, then broke off from the group.

“I can take it from here, thank you. Go back and help Morgan and Prentiss.” He instructed her.

“Yes sir.” She simply walked away.

Hotch took your arm gently and led you outside.

As soon as you cleared the first line of SUVs—out of sight of the doors and windows—he stopped, looked around, and uncuffed you. Being as gentle as he possibly could.

“Are you alright?” He asked anxiously as you rubbed your wrists, even though you’d only had the cuffs on for less than five minutes.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You murmured, glancing back toward the building where you had spent the majority of the last month and a half.

But then your back was against the closest SUV and Hotch’s mouth was welded to yours.

He devoured you.

His hands were framing both sides of your face and his knee had slid in between your thighs.

You’d been so surprised by the kiss that your mouth had opened of its own accord and he had taken advantage of that, his tongue delving in to taste you.

Then you got ahold of yourself and kissed him back. Fisting your hands around the straps of his Kevlar vest, and wrapping your leg around his. You pulled him closer until there wasn’t any space left between you.

His hands started to move then, one sliding farther back into your hair and tangling in it, the other going to your waist with a firm grip that made you whimper softly and sink your teeth into his bottom lip.

That pulled a groan from him, and he pulled away gently to look at you. He was smirking slightly as he pulled something out of the waistband of the lacy red panties you had on and held it up between two fingers in front of you.

“A hundred, impressive, someone must’ve really enjoyed your last performance tonight.” He teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I know I did.”

You snatched the bill from his hand, face flushing—and not from embarrassment—as you leaned back further against the SUV and let him look at you.

“Yeah?” You purred, surprising yourself at the sensuality of your voice. “Take me home and I’ll do it again naked.”

He chuckled softly, then leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose.

“As soon as this is all squared away, I promise.” He murmured, and then kissed your lips again softly. “I think this case aged me six years. One for every week you were in there without a weapon.”

You took his face in your hands and turned his head side to side. Squinting at his temples.

“What are you doing?” He queried.

“Checking for greys.” You mumbled as though distracted, and not as if that was a well aimed joke.

He was a bit older than you, you weren’t sure how much.

He reached around and pinched you lightly on the ass, making you squeal giddily then cover your mouth. Looking up at him in wide eyed surprise.

“What!?” You asked defensively (but not really, you were grinning ear to ear) “Grey hair is sexy, can’t a girl like what she likes?”

He laughed, just a soft little huff, but it made butterflies stir in your stomach.

“Well, if you find any, just know that you caused them.” He joked, running his fingers through your hair and tucking it behind your ear.

You giggled, opening your mouth to respond but you were interrupted.

“Hotch!?” Derek’s voice rang out through the night air. “Where are you?”

You stepped away from Hotch, not quickly, like you’d been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. Just tactfully, slowly. You weren’t sure how he would feel about the team finding out about… whatever this was…

“We’re over here.” Hotch called back and then he reached around you and opened the SUV door, grabbing a suit jacket off the center console draping it over your shoulders. Then murmured, “You looked cold.”

You laughed softly as his eyes flicked down to your chest pointedly, your nipples were definitely hard and visible.

“Sure, we’ll go with that.” You joked, earning a smirk in return as you put your arms through the sleeves and pulled his jacket tighter around you.

Hotch couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of relief that had flooded his chest the moment he saw you after the raid was over.

He also couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you.

Your waist, arms, shoulders and back nearly constantly had a hand on them, connecting him to you in some way. He couldn’t help himself. It’d been two weeks since the last time he’d been close enough to touch you, he was taking every opportunity he got.

You were standing next to him in the van, still wearing his jacket and not much else, when you yawned. You tried to hide it, but in a room full of profilers…

“You look exhausted.” JJ murmured softly from across the small expanse, and he was inclined to agree. “One of us should take you home.”

You shook your head in protest, and he fought back a smile.

“No, I'm fine, really!” You insisted. “I’m not even *yawn* tired.”

He shot you a look over his wrist as he checked his watch.

“Yes, that was very convincing.” Hotch teased, smirking at you as you yawned yet again. “It’s nearly four in the morning. Come on, Vixen. I’ll take you home. In fact, we should all go home. Get some rest everyone, and I don’t expect to see you until noon tomorrow.”

A pathetic little cheer went up around the room and everyone began packing up.

To your credit, you tried to stay awake to keep him company on the near hour drive to your apartment, and he appreciated the nervous chatter, but you only lasted 20 minutes.

Soon, your soft snores filled the cab. He smiled each time your head lolled to the side and you jerked it back upright.

He used the time to work up the will to stay in the car, because he knew, if he went up to your place… he wouldn’t be leaving you there alone.

You were clearly exhausted and it would be selfish of him not to let you sleep. Even if he knew you would ask him to stay.

When he pulled into the small parking garage under your building, you startled awake, like your body recognized the motions of the car and knew instinctively that you were home.

“Mmm…” You groaned, stretching your arms and rolling your neck. “Home already? That was fast.”

He chuckled as he put the car in park and threw you a teasing grin. “You would think so, wouldn’t you? Considering you slept almost the whole way.”

Your cheeks turned so red he could see it in the dim light and God did you look beautiful.

“Sorry, I guess I was a little more tired than I thought.” You murmured. “I haven’t had a goodnight’s sleep in six weeks. So I guess I should’ve been expecting that.”

“Well, as glad as I am that you got a forty minute nap, you should go upstairs and get some real rest.” He tried to keep the reluctance out of his voice. “Actually, why don’t you take the day off today? We made a great bust and the case is making great progress toward the outcome we’re hoping for, but you can’t go back to the club with us until we’re sure no one will recognize you and know that you were the UC. Which is all we’ll be doing today anyway. So just rest. There’ll be plenty for you to do tomorrow.”

You gave him a look that he couldn’t quite read and then nodded your head.

“Okay, I’ll take the day off…” You agreed… too easily… “If you do.”

There it was.

“I can’t, Sweetheart. If the team goes in I have to go in.” He shook his head.

“Then give them all the day too. It’s hardly fair if I get to sleep all day and they don’t.” You pointed out.

“You were the undercover agent, doing physically and mentally demanding work while undercover, and you just told me you barely slept the whole time.” He disagreed. “It’s perfectly fair and technically it’s required by the bureau.”

“I also know that you all took turns sitting outside the UC nest in your cars so I was never actually completely alone.” You revealed and he frowned. The others weren’t supposed to tell you that, and they better not have told you- “and Spencer said that you took way more than your fair share of turns. Including the night before last which means you haven’t slept in nearly forty eight hours.”

Spencer…

Hotch sighed.

“Fine, I will give everyone the day off. Look, I’m texting them right now.” He conceded, pulling out his phone and going to the group chat.

Don’t come in today, get some rest. -A.H.

He showed you the text as he sent it.

“Happy?” He asked.

You grinned in response.

“Perfect, now my bed is calling.” You said as you opened the car door and slid down to the ground, closing the door behind you.

When he didn’t follow suit, you walked around to his side and crossed your arms with a frown.

He rolled down his window.

“You’re not coming up?” You asked, trying to seem nonchalant, but your entire body was giving you away. He hated to disappoint you.

He took a deep breath and sighed. “I really shouldn’t sweetheart. You need to rest.”

You shrugged.

“Okay.” You said.

That was easy.

Too easy.

You shrugged your way out of his suit jacket and handed it through the window.

“Thanks for letting me borrow it. See ya tomorrow!” You chirped and started to strut away.

In bright red lingerie, that once again, barely covered anything.

“What’re you doing?” He called after you, two parts panicked and one part amused. He knew exactly what you were doing.

“Going to bed, like you told me too.” You answered over your shoulder.

You were an indecent exposure charge waiting to happen, and he knew that you knew it.

“Sweetheart…” He warned, but you didn’t stop. Just kept on heading toward the elevator. Stilettos, half bare ass and all.

He sighed, got out of the car and followed you.

Jogging to catch up as you held the elevator door with a smug little grin, he went over and over his new plan.

He wouldn’t go past the threshold. No matter what tricks you pulled. You had to get some sleep, it wasn’t healthy to be this exhausted.

“Put this back on, would ya?” He said as he made it inside the elevator, draping the jacket back around you without waiting for a response. “You’re gonna catch a charge, or a cold.”

“It’s summer, and it’s a good thing I know a decent attorney.” You gave him a sly look as you let the doors close and hit the button to your floor.

Did you mean him? He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“I don’t practice and seeing as I witnessed the crime, I wouldn’t be able to do a very good job of defending you without perjuring myself.” He pointed out, holding back a smile at the thought of trying to defend that in court.

“Who said I was talking about you?” You asked sassily, and then grinned. “Besides, Hotch, it’s not even five o’clock yet. The only person in this building who’s ever up at ungodly hours like this, is me. So I think I’m safe from that exposure charge.”

“Aaron, and did you consider the fact that you’re on camera?” He countered.

You opened your mouth to respond, took a breath and then closed it again. Scrunching your face up in thought for a moment.

“Shit.” You muttered under your breath, and he could not help but laugh. Then you shrugged. “Well, the security guard on duty is probably having the night of his life right now and wishing the jacket would fall back off so he can get his rocks—Wait, what did you say?”

He smiled softly at you.

“Aaron, when we’re not working, you can call me Aaron.” He explained. “It’s nice to hear it sometimes from someone other than Dave. Especially if that someone is you.”

He knew his plan was fucked the second he said the last part. He could see it in your eyes, in your stance, in the way your breath pattern had quickened. He could feel it, in his own pulse, and sweaty palms. The way his chest felt a little too tight. He could swear the temperature in the elevator rose ten degrees from one floor to the next, and his heart was pounding out of control.

He felt himself being drawn into your gravity, moving closer to you without consciously deciding to do it. If he kissed you… he wasn’t leaving here tonight. This morning actually, but semantics.

“Okay, Aaron.” You said it so sweetly, yet so enticingly all at once, and he was so close to his breaking point.

Then the elevator chimed and the door slid open. A cool draft washing over you both and snapping him out of it.

He cleared his throat.

“After you.” He murmured and he could hear the desire in his own voice so clearly that there was no way you had missed it.

The smirk on your perfect lips told him you’d indeed caught it, and were going to exploit it.

He followed you a short way down the hall, until you stopped in front of a door with a keypad on the front.

“This one’s mine.” You said as you punched in the code and pushed the door open.

The familiar smell of home hit you hard as you stepped over the threshold into your studio apartment.

You hadn’t been here in six weeks and you’d missed the place. Your bed was waiting for you on the back wall, and was so tempting.

But not nearly as tempting as the man hesitating in the hall behind you.

You turned and looked back at him with a very coy smile.

“You gonna lurk in the doorway, or are you gonna come inside?” You teased.

“I really shouldn’t.” He murmured, looking all broody and conflicted. Hot.

“I could make you some coffee for the drive home.” You offered, not caring at all for coffee because you knew he wasn’t going home.

“We both know that if I go in there, I’m not leaving.” He reasoned, sticking firmly to his guns. “You need to rest, I can get coffee down the street.”

“Oh I intend to… eventually.” You purred, beckoning him towards you with one finger. “Sure you don’t want just one cup?”

“And there’s really a whole conversation we should have, before… anything happens.” He continued to act like he was actually going to leave, even though you both knew he wasn’t. “I’m a firm believer in informed consent, sweetheart, and I already crossed that line once.”

You nodded with your face pinched dramatically like it was the most serious thing in the world.

“You mean the conversation where you tell me: ‘There has to be balance in this relationship for it to work, because I’m your boss and you’re my subordinate and even if I didn’t intend to, I could take advantage of you. I would never do it on purpose but just in case there would need to be provisions in place…’ blah blah blah… I completely understand and agree.” You mimicked his expressions and his speaking cadence and then you couldn’t help yourself, you cracked a smile. “I’m not naïve, Aaron… consider me informed and consenting.”

He was holding back a smile of his own and you knew you’d won, he just needed a little push.

“You really should be in bed, baby.” He tried one last time.

You chuckled softly. He just kept setting you up so perfectly.

“If you insist.” You purred.

Slowly, you let his suit jacket slip off your shoulders and fall to the floor.

“Sweetheart…” His voice held just a slight note of warning, possibly pleading?

You weren’t sure because you weren’t looking at him. You’d turned around and started toward your bed.

Shedding your lingerie as you went.

You’d gotten very good at taking off your clothes on the go.

“Don’t mind me Aaron, just getting a little more comfortable for bed.” You cooed.

First, went the babydoll top, up over your head and thrown somewhere in the vicinity of the couch.

You took a few more steps and down came your panties. Making sure to give him a good eyeful of ass and pussy as you bent down to step out of them and toss them to the side.

“There, that’s better.” You sighed contentedly, and continued towards your bed. “Ya know, these shoes are pretty hard to unbuckle on my own… I might need a little help.”

“Fuck it.” You heard the door click shut, the lock engage and then there were warm hands on your bare waist, turning you to face him.

You smiled victoriously.

“The shoes stay on.” He murmured, and then he tossed you onto the bed with no more effort than if he were throwing a pillow.

You propped yourself up on your elbows and watched as he rolled up his sleeves, his eyes roving over you like he was starved and you were a feast he couldn’t wait to dig into.

But, God, was he taking his sweet time.

He stood over you and studied you, like he was memorizing every little detail of your body—or deciding where to start.

Your ankles were apparently the winner of the internal debate.

He knelt on the floor in front of you and took them both in his hands, placing a kiss on the inside of each one.

Then he laid kisses on your calves, and the insides of your knees, he trailed kisses up your thighs until you could feel his breath on your pussy.

You tensed in anticipation of his mouth finally finding its mark, but it landed on your hip bone instead. And then the other.

A frustrated whine worked its way up your throat and he chuckled at the sound.

“I know patience isn’t your strong suit, sweetheart, but I’ve been thinking about this for so long… I’m going to take my time with you.” He murmured against the soft skin just below your belly button.

He dropped a kiss there and then skimmed his lips up the plain of your stomach, his warm breath sending goosebumps scattering in its wake. His hands had traveled to your ribs and he stroked them with the tips of his fingers, dragging them down as though he were plucking the strings of a guitar.

Which was ironic, because he’d barely started and yet he was playing your body like a finely tuned instrument.

He kissed, nipped, and sucked his way over the curves of your breasts, drawing small gasps and moans from you as he went.

His hands wrapped around your upper arms and caressed the length of them as he drew them together at your wrists above your head. Clasping them in one hand and running his fingers through your hair with the other. Then down over your shoulder, gliding over your collarbone with his thumb, skimming the top of your breast with the backs of his fingers.

“Stunning.” He murmured, drinking you in before bringing his lips to your neck.

Leaving you completely breathless as he licked and sucked at your most sensitive spots. How he was finding them so effortlessly, you didn’t know, and frankly did not care. Until he sank his teeth—ever so gently—into your throat, his tongue laving at the place where your pulse thrummed.

You didn’t have time to wonder if he could feel it.

Pounding, thundering, racing out of control.

Because now, he was tracing up your jaw with the tip of his nose, leaving soft kisses in its path. He kissed the curve where your jaw met your neck and then tugged lightly on the lobe of your ear with his teeth.

“Aaron, please, I can’t take it anymore, it’s been two weeks of waiting for this. Give me something.” You pleaded on a shaky breath.

You felt him smile against your cheek.

“I think we both know it’s been a lot longer than two weeks…” His soft voice flowing over you like lava. “Hasn’t it, sweetheart?”

His hand, which had been resting just beneath your breast, skimmed the bottom swell of it with his thumb before trailing—so slowly you thought you’d die before he got there—down your abdomen.

You couldn’t fucking breathe, so you weren’t sure how he expected you to speak, but he didn’t seem to mind. He just continued to drive your heart rate through the roof with his voice and the trajectory of his wandering hand.

“Hmm? How many months has it been since you even thought about another man? Three? Four? Five? I won’t flatter myself and say six… not even when I’m just as guilty…” He purred, that hand steadily roaming south. “Not when I’ve been thinking of you for seven at the very least. I can’t even pinpoint when it started. Or maybe I can? Maybe it was the first time I saw you in red? A pretty silk blouse that hugged your curves so perfectly. You were radiant. I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since. Thinking about all the ways I could take it off of you was torture.”

He started to follow his hand with his mouth, slowly.

“What was it for you, baby? What caught your attention?” He asked, kissing his way down the opposite side of your neck, and letting his tongue explore the hills and valleys of your collarbones around the base of your throat. “What do you think about when you’re alone? Is it my hands? The way they would feel on your skin?”

The hand in question had finally made it to the rise of your hip bone, where it started to turn so that his fingers were leading the way.

You were practically shaking in anticipation, every erogenous zone on your person was throbbing, begging, for contact as he had deftly avoided them.

“Is it my voice? The way I might speak to you? You definitely seem to like that…” He continued, and he was right.

His voice was driving you crazy, the low, smooth rumble that you heard in your sleep every night for the last two weeks.

“I’ll tell you mine…” He whispered, his hand inching so slowly toward your clit. “It’s the little details that haunt me the most. The way the sunlight catches your hair and the way it moves in the breeze. The way your hips sway as you walk, the way you furrow your brow when you’re confused, the way you bite your lip when you’re thinking about something. God, how I’ve longed to bite that lip myself.”

He paused, his hand hovering just a fraction of an inch away from where you desperately wanted him, and pulled back to look you in the eyes.

“I know there’s something you think about, there has to be… do you know why?” He asked, and this time he waited for you to answer him. So you shook your head no, because you didn’t know why. “Because I heard the way you said my name when you came on my thigh. Like you’d said it just like that a thousand times. So tell me, pretty girl. Do you cry out my name when you touch yourself at night?”

Holy fucking hell, he was going to kill you with his silver tongue.

You couldn’t come up with a coherent response, your brain had once again abandoned you. As it seemed to do whenever this man was so close to you.

“I’m waiting on an answer, sweetheart, yes or no, do you say my name as you make yourself come?” He repeated himself. “Tell me the truth and I’ll give you what you need.”

“Yes.” You whispered, unsure that you’d be able to say more if you tried.

“Yes what, baby?” He teased, tapping his finger once against the skin just above your clit, making you squirm. Annoying you just enough that you suddenly regained control of your tongue.

“Yes, I say your name when I come! I’ll fucking scream it you want me to, just touch me!” You begged and he smiled.

“Now there’s an idea…” he said smugly.

You opened your mouth to respond, just as his fingers finally met your clit. The response fled your mind and a moan came out instead.

He smirked down at you like the smug bastard you were starting to realize he was. (Though somehow it suited him and only made him hotter???)

“Oh I’m sorry, Honey, were you gonna say something?” He snickered as his finger finally started rubbing your clit in perfect little circles at the exact pace you would have done yourself. “I can stop if that will help you get the words out?”

“No! Please- Don’t- Don’t stop!” You gasped as he added a little more pressure.

“Okay…” He murmured through a sly grin. “As long as you’re sure? Definitely wouldn’t want you to think I did that on purpose…”

He started to move then, lowering himself so his face was over your chest instead of your head.

“I’m fucking sure!” You whined as he sucked your nipple into his mouth, drawing on it hard. “God, just- I- please don’t stop!”

He huffed a soft laugh and as he moved to the other nipple he muttered, “Didn’t plan on it.”

He took his time, leisurely going back and forth between your nipples. Licking and sucking as he continued to work your clit with precision, until he had you writhing and whimpering beneath him all over again.

You were aching to touch him, to feel the firmness of his chest and the strength of his arms. You wanted to know what it would be like to bury your hands in his hair, and maybe pull a little.

Alas, he still held your wrists firmly in his grip.

“Aaron, can- um- can you let go of my hands?” You asked quietly, awkwardly, and then tacked on, “Please?”

He paused and sat up, releasing you immediately.

“Was I hurting you, sweetheart?” He asked, concern written all over his face.

“What? No!” You sat up as well, reaching for him but stopping yourself just shy of grabbing his shirt. “No, that’s not- I just- I just wanted my hands free so I could touch you.”

“Oh.” The concern melted away and you could tell he was holding back a smile.

He reached out and cupped the side of your face, and the way he was looking at you…

“Kiss me.”

You almost didn’t even realize you’d said it— it was a breath, a whisper, barely audible—until he gathered you up in his arms and his warm lips landed on yours.

It was frantic and desperate, a little sloppy, and so passionate it would have knocked you over had he not been holding you up.

The fabric of his shirt was soft against your bare skin, but it was an unwanted barrier between you. You started fumbling with the buttons, the top two already undone from when he had ditched his tie hours ago.

It turned out that it was slightly harder to undo buttons you couldn’t see with shaky fingers. Especially when you were so anxious to get to what was beneath them.

“Help me- mmm- get this off.” You demanded, barely breaking away from his lips as you kept fumbling with the buttons near the top.

He—much more calmly than you—began working on the ones at the bottom meeting you in the middle. When your hands bumped into each other, you decided he was taking much too long. Batting him away from the last button, you hurried to undo it, then forced the sleeves down his arms and tugged at it frustratedly when they got stuck at his elbows.

Aaron laughed, shaking his head, and helped you get the shirt off completely.

“No patience…” He murmured in quiet amusement.

You didn’t see what was so funny, but you couldn’t find a single reason to care now that you had skin to explore.

You let your hands—and lips—roam, his chest, his arms, his back and stomach. You counted every rib and kissed every scar, until you had him memorized.

He let you, sitting on his knees in the center of the bed, he patiently watched as you made yourself familiar with his body.

Until you kissed your way up his chest and neck, all the back to his lips and then settled yourself on his lap. Wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, you threaded your fingers into his hair and kissed him like he was the center of your universe.

And in that moment, he wasn’t just the center, he was the force that held it together.

You had almost forgotten the endgame you had been so desperate for, so caught up in learning him that your urgency had faded into the background.

His urgency, however, was waging a war with the zipper of his pants, and was making itself known to you by way of pressing up against your very bare, very sensitive pussy. You rolled your hips against it once, and the sound that he made was so carnal you couldn’t wait to hear it again.

So you repeated the motion, and sure enough the sound made an encore.

“Fuck, sweetheart, if you keep that up…” He groaned against your lips.

“I have a better idea.” You murmured back, then kissed and nipped your way down his throat, then his chest, climbing off of his lap and continuing your way down his stomach.

Your hands slid down the same path until they found their intended target; his belt buckle.

This time there was no fumbling, and the only shaky fingers were his as he tilted your chin up. Looking down at you with a mixture of excitement, trepidation, and adoration.

“You don’t have to-”

“I actually think it's vital to my sanity.” You disagreed, working on his button and zipper.

He scoffed at your dramatics.

“In that case, by all means, carry on.” He quipped, but his voice sounded more and more strained by the second.

“Lay down.” You murmured, moving back to give him room and pointing where you wanted him to go.

He obeyed without a word, and as soon as he was settled you worked his slacks down over his hips, stripped them down his legs—gently taking off his shoes—and tossed the whole pile to the floor.

His boxers did nothing to hide what was so clearly standing at attention beneath them.

Holy…

The man was packing…

You tried not to react, not to let your face show anything you were thinking, but goddamn, a girl had to wonder where all that was gonna fit.

And of course, since he was the best profiler you’d ever met…

“You don’t have to sweetheart, really, I’m fine to just take care of you.” He offered one more time but his voice cracked and there was a tiny wet patch growing on the front of his shorts.

You cleared your throat, snapping out of your little trance and grinned.

“What? You don’t think I can handle it?” You joked.

He held back a grin of his own and raised a brow at you.

“Baby, you look like you don’t think you can handle it.” He replied.

And you took that personally.

“I’m always up for a challenge…” You smirked, crawling from his feet to his waist.

He watched you with heated eyes as you reached for the waistband of his boxers and slid your fingers beneath the edge.

As you pulled them down, you made sure to take your time, dragging them lightly against the length of him and earning a sharp gasp as a reward. You paid little attention to where the shorts landed as you threw them behind you.

It stood tall and—from the look of it—was a bit more than you could wrap your hand around, but you would not be deterred.

You also decided to get a little payback, given that he’d teased you for ages. Granted, you didn’t have near the patience that he did (which is probably why you still hadn’t came), but still…

You laid a hand on his thigh, running it up his leg at a torturous pace and when you finally reached it you gripped the base and pumped it even slower.

Once, twice, three times.

He groaned, a sound you knew you’d hear in your dreams for the rest of your life.

You were going to be the death of him…

Of that much he was sure as you pumped your pretty hand up and down his shaft. He’d thought about this a thousand—maybe even ten thousand—times in the last two weeks.

Scratch that, the last several months, that was a more accurate description.

Yet, somehow, the real thing exceeded anything he could’ve imagined.

Your hand gripped him so well, and the way you looked while doing it… well, he wasn’t sure he was going to last.

Then you leaned forward, and he watched in awe as you stuck out your pretty pink tongue and licked the bead of precum off the tip, just as it started to drip down the side.

“Fuck…” He hissed out a breath, your tongue was hot and wet and it had him on the verge of begging.

“That’s the idea…” You murmured, a sly little grin forming on your lips for a brief moment… before you wrapped them around his cock and took him all the way to the back of your throat.

Your mouth was made of silk, he was certain, and—God help him—he was already addicted to it.

“You feel so perfect, pretty girl. You’re incredible.” He praised, reaching over and stroking your calf with the back of his hand.

You drew yourself back off of him, until only the head was in your mouth, and then you wrapped your hand around the base, using both in tandem to make a rhythm that was purely meant to torture him.

“That’s my girl, just like that, baby.” He could hardly get the words out but he knew how much you loved for him to talk you through it. “Look at you… You’re taking me so well, sweetheart, and you look so pretty doing it.”

He knew that there was not a world in which he ever recovered from this. There was no going back to the ignorant bliss of not knowing what it feels like to have your mouth on his cock. He would never be able to forget the perfection that was the sight of your lips—still red with faded lipstick—bobbing up and down it. It was the second most beautiful scene he’d ever witnessed.

The first, was the face you made when you came, and he intended to see it several more times before this was over.

“Such a good girl, sucking my cock like you can’t get enough.” He trailed his fingers up your leg and then over your ribs. “So fucking beautiful.”

He fisted his hands in the bedding, and clenched his jaw as you moaned around him, and he knew he needed something to distract him from the pleasure or this show would be over.

He looked around and his eyes landed on your ass— high in the air—and at this angle, he could see your pussy too… and it was nearly dripping. He groaned just at the sight of it, and knew exactly how he was going to keep himself busy while you had your fun.

“Baby, I have to taste you or I might lose my mind.” He warned you, right before he took you by the thighs and hauled your legs up, so your knees rested just above his shoulders. Making you squeal. Your pussy hovered just above his face now.

“But I wasn’t done yet!” You protested.

“I never said you had to stop.” He smiled to himself as he pulled your hips down so that you were firmly sat on his face.

He would happily die, just like this, if you’d let him.

Could he breathe?

Barely.

Did he care?

Not one bit.

You tasted exquisite, just like he knew you would.

He lapped at your entrance as though he were starved and you were the finest meal he’d ever eaten.

Nothing could convince him you weren’t.

He sucked your clit into his mouth and kept light suction on it as he flicked it with the tip of his tongue.

You squirmed against him, and while he didn’t mind you rubbing your perfect cunt on his face, it made his job a little difficult…

So he placed one hand on the small of your back and held you down tightly to his mouth. Then, because his other hand was free, he slid a finger into your pussy and thrusted it in and out slowly.

You moaned around the head of his dick and clenched around his finger so tightly, he couldn’t wait to feel it with his cock instead.

But first…

He really wanted to make you come on his face.

He hated that he wouldn’t be able to see the look on yours when it happened… but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

So he doubled down.

Adding a second finger to your pussy, and sucking just a bit harder on your clit, he worked his tongue with an eagerness he could feel you reciprocating with your own mouth.

And if you could still do that, then he wasn’t doing a good enough job.

But then he found the sensitive spot, maybe two inches inside the entrance, and he rubbed the pads of his fingers against it in time with the flicking of his tongue.

“Fuck, Aaron, don’t stop.” You whimpered, having released him from your mouth, pumping him with your hand instead but he couldn’t have cared less about that. “I’m so fucking close.”

He didn’t dare change a thing.

Not when his wrist started to ache.

Not when his jaw locked up.

Not even when his tongue began to cramp.

Your walls started to flutter around his fingers, your thighs started to shake, and your cries got louder and louder, until finally you collapsed against his face with nearly a scream of, “Aaron!”

He’d never heard a more beautiful sound.

He was smiling proudly as he licked at your sensitive clit until you recovered enough to move away on wobbly legs, and collapse to your belly next to him on the bed. Your knees resting by his head and your feet leaning against the headboard.

He laid his dry hand on your ass and gave it a firm squeeze as he licked the product of your orgasm off the other, savoring the taste of you. Then smirking to himself when you hummed in contentment.

“I think I just saw God.” Your voice—muffled by the comforter as you were laying face down—made him laugh quietly. “Everything went white, but then I closed my eyes and there were tiny little spots of color everywhere. It was pretty.”

He smiled, rolling his eyes fondly at your antics. Then he sat up, got to his knees, and gently rolled you over onto your back, settling between your legs. But he made no move to fuck you.

Not yet, even though he was aching—throbbing—to be inside you.

“Are you okay, pretty girl?” He murmured, gently brushing your hair out of your face.

You smiled up at him, eyes full of adoration and a bit of mischief.

“I’m so okay, that I want to taste myself on your lips while you fuck me.” You said, so boldly it nearly gave him a heart attack.

He dropped his forehead to your chest and groaned, “Sweetheart, you’re killing me.”

You giggled as he peppered your breasts, chest and neck with kisses.

Kisses that grew more and more heated the closer he got to your lips.

“You can have whatever you want, as long as I get to see your pretty face the next time I make you come.” He promised quietly in your ear.

“I think I can live with that.” You breathed, your hands snaking around his back and pulling him closer.

He grinned against your cheek, pressing another kiss there and murmured, “Oh you do, huh?”

You nodded and then…

“Aaron?”

“Sweetheart?”

“Fuck me, now please.”

He finally kissed your lips as he lined himself up and gently pressed into you until he was buried to the base inside you.

Time stopped—you knew that beyond a doubt—when Aaron finally slid into you.

You moaned against his lips, where you could taste the remnants of your own pleasure, and wrapped your legs around his waist.

Your red bottomed heels pressing into his lower back as he bottomed out inside you.

He paused then, letting you adjust, or maybe just basking in the moment, you weren’t sure…

“Are you okay?” He asked again, solving that internal debate for you, then kissing you softly again.

“I’m perfect.” You sighed blissfully, kissing him back and threading your fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck.

“Yes you fucking are…” His voice rumbled through you, making you clench around and arch up into him. “Fuck…”

And then he started to move, slowly thrusting in and out of you, like he had all the time in the world…

Or at least all day.

The stretch was like nothing you’d ever felt in your life, and the faster he moved, the better it got. Until he found a steady rhythm. You matched him, thrust for thrust, and each time he hit just right inside you.

You could feel every single inch of him, and it was pure magic, you swore. It was everything you’d dreamed it would be and more.

Just because it was him.

No one had taken such care with you before, and not a single man would ever hold a candle to him again. It wasn’t even over yet, and you already knew that as fact.

You were completely ruined.

Spoiled even.

And you would’ve been content to lay there, and let him fuck you into the mattress until you were both completely sated… but you remembered something he said to you in the private room two weeks prior.

Something that made your heart rate skyrocket.

“Look at you, looking so beautiful like this. I can’t wait to take you home and let you ride me, pretty girl.” He’d said.

You felt yourself get even wetter just thinking about it.

You kissed him again, biting his bottom lip, and then you used his hair to pull his head gently back so you could see his face.

“I wanna ride you.” You murmured.

He smiled and did not hesitate to roll onto his back, with you still impaled on his cock, simply taking you with him so that you were straddling him.

You kissed him thoroughly again, getting another taste of your cum on his lips, and moaned.

Then you sat up straight, even leaned back slightly, taking him so much deeper at this new angle, and you both moaned in unison as you rolled your hips slowly, let your head fall back and closed your eyes.

“I wish you could see yourself right now, pretty girl, riding me like this… you look like an angel or a goddess.” He gushed, sliding his hands up your thighs to your waist. “Taking my cock so well, like you were meant to ride it.”

His words got your blood up, racing through your veins like acid.

That familiar knot started to tighten in your core again.

“Fuck, Aaron, I love it when you talk like that.” You groaned as you slid yourself up and down his shaft.

“Hmm, and I love the way your pussy drips for me when I do.” He spurred you on, using his silver tongue like the lethal weapon it was. “Such a perfect pussy too, so wet and tight for me… so fucking perfect.”

You whined and involuntarily clenched around him, pulling a moan from him as well. Then his hands were traveling up your stomach to your breasts. Taking both in his hands and squeezing, rubbing his thumbs back and forth over your nipples.

“And look at these tits, fitting in my hands like they were made for them… so beautiful.” He rasped, and you wondered if he was as close to the edge as you were.

The furrow in his brow and the tightness of his jaw told you that he was. One hand slid down your stomach, his thumb easily locating your clit and rolling it in time with your hips.

You cried out, the tightness in your core expanding and contracting until you almost couldn’t take it anymore.

“I know baby, it’s okay, I’ve got you, you can let go.” He soothed. “Come on, sweetheart, you can do it.”

You gripped his shoulders tightly to leverage yourself, as your knees started to get weak.

“I’m so close.” You whined, desperately throwing yourself up and down his cock. “Aaron… I- I need…”

He didn’t need to hear the answer, he just started to thrust up into you. Matching your speed perfectly.

“You’ve got it, pretty girl, just breathe and let go. I’ll catch you when you fall.” He promised, his voice like velvet to your ears. “Come for me baby, come all over my cock, I wanna feel every pulse.”

And that was what sent you spiraling into oblivion.

It was like every nerve ending in your body exploded and your head was full of clouds. You could feel tears running down your face and you didn’t even know why, because you felt euphoric. This had to be the hardest you’d ever come in your life, your pussy spasming so hard around him that if you’d had the mental energy, you might’ve worried that it hurt him.

“Aaron!” You gasped, unable to breathe let alone scream.

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” He gritted out, trying to be comforting, but his own orgasm was barreling toward him, and you were pretty sure he was doing everything he could to hold it back. “I’m about to come, pretty girl, where do you—“

“Inside.” You blurted, without thinking twice about it. “Inside me, please I wanna feel it!”

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m- ahh”

You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, collapsing in a heap on top of him as warmth spilled into you.

You didn’t even have a moment to process what had happened before exhaustion overtook you, and you passed out cold on his chest.

Hotch was pretty sure he was in a state of mild shock as he laid there, panting beneath you.

He couldn’t move.

He couldn’t speak.

He just was.

Or was he?

He was almost certain he’d just had an out of body experience.

It took him almost five minutes to regain the ability to function like a normal human being, but he wasn’t in any hurry. You hadn’t moved yet either.

So he wrapped his arms around you, content to let you lay there as long as you needed, simply stroking your back and murmuring soft, nonsensical words of comfort in your ear.

It took him several more minutes to realize that you’d fallen asleep. With him still inside you.

“Sweetheart?” He tried, not really having the heart to wake you but knowing you needed at least to use the bathroom before you passed out. “Baby, wake up…”

You whimpered softly and he stroked your cheek tenderly with the backs of his fingers.

Then sighed.

You were exhausted… and so was he, but the least he could do was clean you up a little before he fell asleep beside you.

Trying his best not to jar you too much, he rolled you gently off his chest and onto your back on the mattress.

The separation was almost painful as he slid out of you, but he bit his lip and didn’t make a sound. Not that it mattered, you were out cold.

He stood up and really took a look around the apartment for the first time since he’d been there. It suited you, he could see your personality everywhere he looked and it made him smile.

Considering this was a studio apartment, he could only assume that the one other door in the room led to the bathroom.

He took a few minutes to rinse himself off, and then he got a warm washcloth and went back out to you.

He carefully cleaned you up as best as he could without waking you. Taking the time to make sure he got all the remnants of himself off of you. Well… the fluid ones anyway.

As it turned out, he may have left a few marks here and there with his mouth.

The exhaustion was weighing heavily on him, but he still took the time to make sure he’d locked the door when he’d finally given up on leaving and came inside. (He had.) Then he moved his pistols from where he’d left them, on the entry table by the door, to the nightstand beside the bed. On his way back to the bed, he noticed his boxers hanging off a lampshade. He gave a little chuckle and collected them too, putting them back on once he’d situated his sidearms.

Lastly he dug his phone out of his pants pocket on the floor, intending to silence it so it wouldn’t disturb you.

He discovered, however, that it was already on silent.

Not only that…

But he had seven missed calls.

With an eighth ringing through.

This one was Morgan.

He answered quickly, thinking it was an emergency.

“Hotchner.” He said, stepping back towards the bathroom and closing the door behind him so he wouldn’t disturb you.

“Man we were about to send a search and rescue out for you! Where have you been? We’ve been calling for an hour!” Morgan demanded.

“At home, sleeping.” Hotch lied. “What’s happened?”

“You tell me!” Morgan returned. “The bureau called Garcia and said your SUV had never made it back to Quantico. They said they called and you didn’t answer, so she called and you didn’t answer. Then she called me and I called you, no answer. By that point, she’d already texted the group chat and the others took turns calling you, none of which you answered. So here I am, calling for the last time, before we were all gonna gear up to come find you two!”

“Two?” Hotch asked.

“Foxy Loxy isn’t answering her phone either, and the last time we saw either of you, you were together in the missing SUV. You do the math.” Morgan said, a little more sarcastically than Aaron cared for, but he was too tired to deal with it.

“We’re fine, I left her securely locked inside her apartment, with the alarm set, and then I came home. I’ve been asleep. Just like I’m sure she is.” The lies flowed off his tongue easier than he’d like to admit.

“Then why does the SUVs GPS tracking system say it’s still at her place?” Derek sounded more amused than suspicious at this point.

“Because I was exhausted, so she called me a cab and I left the SUV in the gated parking garage under her building.” Hotch thought of the easiest way to explain that without giving himself away. “She’s gonna take it back when she wakes up, and I’m taking a cab to the office tomorrow.”

“You sure?” Derek asked one more time, his inflection giving clear indication of amusement.

“Yes, I’m sure! What is wrong with you? Can I go back to bed now?” Hotch snapped, a little harsher than necessary.

However to be fair, it was nearly eight in the morning, which meant you and he had been at it for nearly three hours… and he had been up since eight the previous morning, so he was beyond manners.

Derek cleared his throat.

“We pinged your phone, Hotch…” He explained.

“Fuck.” Aaron muttered.

“You wanna explain why you’re still at her place? Or should we connect the dots?” Morgan teased.

“I’m hanging up now.” Hotch said.

“But we’ll discuss it later right?” Morgan asked, already laughing. “Hotch? Hotch, come on man!”

Aaron disconnected the call and drug his hand down his face.

This was tomorrow’s problem.

He turned his phone off, walking back out into your main room.

He stood there for a moment, studying your soft form laying on the bed, and he smiled.

You were worth the headache waiting for him tomorrow.

So he leaned down, unbuckled your red bottom heels, sitting them on the floor and he crawled back into bed with you. Pulling you close and burying his face in your neck.

It took him less than a minute to fall asleep.

Tag list:

@newtomofgods @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @misacc08 @mystargirl-interlude @arhaenyra

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