#i reread the few i wrote and they were good?

[sysig]

Handplates and haircut and more Handplates after that (Patreon)

[watercolor-hearts]

.

[nereidprinc3ss]

come on home

in which the only person who can comfort you after your breakup with spencer reid, is spencer reid

inspired by the song "summer's end" by the artist currently known as phoebe bridgers

wc 2857

warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), minor mommy issues, angst, happy ending

a/n: thank you to the person who requested this:) u r an angel and I listened to this song the whole time i wrote (if you haven't heard, listen!!) i sincerely hope you enjoy, i like this one a lot<3

She hung up on you. 

Forty-seven minutes of being insulted and berated after you’d called her looking for comfort, and you put up with every single cruel word—just for your mother to hang up on you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do, so you shouldn’t be surprised. An ache, you’d expect—but it shouldn’t sting like this. You thought you knew better. 

Now you’re in a ball on your couch, clutching your phone to your chest and crying. There’s no point hiding it. Your roommate is out with her girlfriend for the evening—which is too bad because even though you feel like being alone, you’re sure that’s the wrong call. Your other friends are out having fun tonight, too. They’d even invited you, but you turned them down. Look where that had gotten you. Obviously, your mother is not the person you’re about to run to for comfort, either. 

You try to pretend, while you’re thinking of all these people who have ever cared for you, that Spencer Reid isn’t on your mind at all. You try to pretend like you don’t care that the person who loved you until you believed you actually deserved it is a contact going stale deep in the bowels of your text cache. With bleary eyes you scroll down, looking for your conversation where it gathers dust—the end of your relationship was a mutual decision, and you’re friendly, but you haven’t texted in a few weeks. Probably because every time the conversation starts to feel a little too easy, or the phone call lasts a little too long, that aching void in your chest gets worse and worse. Like pain in a phantom limb, you become acutely aware of what you do not have and how much it hurts.  

So blame it on the tears, or the mind-muddling melodrama of your relationship with your mother, blame it on anything but the truth—when your thumb drops on that call button like the plunger on a syringe, you don’t regret it.  

What you’re not expecting is for him to answer after the first ring. 

“Hi,” you say with a snuffle before Spencer can get a word in. There’s a brief interlude, in which you pick at your nails, comfortable to just sit in silence if that’s what he wants. As long as he’s there. 

“Hi.” Hearing his voice instantly melts a bit of the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Another pause, for which you remain silent, because you can feel him formulating a question—and you’d like to hear him speak again. “...am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?” 

Your lips purse and twist to the side, pained and comforted by how easily he can tell that you’re distraught. One word across a tinny connection, and he knows. 

“No. Yes. I mean... I guess that’s why I called you. But you don’t have to ask me about it.” You sniff again and take a deep breath. “How was your day? What state are you in?” 

“I’m in the district,” he answers after a moment, easing into a casualness that he likely doesn’t feel for your sake. Wind crunches through the speaker. He probably just got out of work. “My day was... it was good. I got to talk about my job to a bunch of elementary schoolers, which is always a confidence boost.” 

You chuckle, still laying on your side on the couch and watching storm clouds gathering outside. 

“Nice, nice. What else?” 

“Let’s see... I forgot lunch, so I had three oranges, and they were actually pretty good. I reread Game of Thrones—I don’t know why I did that. I’m never going to like that book.” 

“Masochist,” you smile. He laughs, and you hear the sound of a car door opening. 

“Oh! I talked to my mom. Believe it or not, she says hi.” 

A completely inadvertent snort constitutes your response. It’s not what you meant to do, and out of context it’s sort of mean, but you actually think it’s incredibly endearing that he still talks to his mother about you. He scrambles to explain himself. 

“I swear, we barely talked about you this time. Mostly we talked about her new boyfriend Leonard.” 

“No, no, that’s not... I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or your mom. That’s really sweet, actually. Tell her I say hi too.” 

When he next speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“I will.” Another long pause. You imagine him sitting in the parking lot at Quantico, keys vertical in the ignition of his old car and feeling the silence just as much as you are. He surprises you by not ending the conversation—instead he asks a question. It is concern, poorly disguised with nervous humor. Or maybe you just know him too well. “Do I get to find out what’s on your mind, or are you leaving me in suspense here?”  

You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Um... well, actually, I just got off the phone with my mom, too. It didn’t go so well,” you laugh halfheartedly, “I know it was dumb to try and have an actual conversation with her, but... you know me. Always following blind optimism to the depths of hell.” 

“Why’d you call your mom?” he asks, so gently it brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes. Still, you attempt to put a cheerful affect on your strained voice. 

“Mm, you know. Just needed someone to talk to.” 

Spencer’s knowing sigh does little to make you feel better. 

“You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it’s... it’s different now, but... I care about you a lot. And, you know, I receive very few phone calls, so the line is pretty much always open.” 

Your laugh quickly devolves into a cry. 

“I appreciate that, but I can’t talk to you about everything.” 

“Why not?” he pleads immediately, voice thin and desperate like it’s his most burning question. A million lies dance over the tip of your tongue. A million things that feel safer to say than the truth. But in the end, it comes out anyway—choked, and so quiet, but aloud nonetheless. 

“Because I’m trying really hard to stop missing you so much.” 

Another long beat of silence. The back of your throat feels dry and hollow—a cage for your hummingbird heart. 

“If it hurts too much to talk to me, you don’t need to do that to yourself. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself thinking you’re alone. You are... so important to me. I will always try to take care of you the best I can—whether that means staying away or being at your front door. If you ever need me, or even... vaguely want me, I will be there.” 

Each word caves your resolve. Each syllable is a slap in the face to progress you’d been pretending to make. You can be strong—you've proven that over the past ten weeks. You can be stone-faced and slash at your heart until the scar tissue is thick and jagged, and eventually it won’t hurt anymore. But maybe, by letting someone tend to the wounds, they’ll heal a little nicer. A little kinder. Even if you can’t undo the damage, maybe one day you’ll be soft again. 

“What if I vaguely want you right now?” you sniffle. 

Finally, you hear the silver jingle of keys turning. The sputter and rumble of an old engine coming to life. 

“Then I’m on my way.” 

Twenty four minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.  

After the call had ended, you’d wondered if you made it all up. Surely your ex-boyfriend wasn’t actually about to show up at your apartment. Someone you’ve grieved for can’t just come back—there are countless horror novels and movies based upon that very tenet. Does it matter if they ever actually died? How long is ten weeks, really? It feels like a lifetime. 

You shuffle across the room, wiping under your eyes with your already damp sleeves, and undoing all the locks Spencer had conditioned you to start using. When the door cracks open, and you see Spencer standing there, windswept and concerned, for the first time in months, it hits you like a tidal wave. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, still just as in love with him as you ever were. The relief that floods your veins as he looks down at you with so much care in his eyes is like sinking into warm water. It’s a dead giveaway, and maybe it makes this whole thing a terrible idea, but you can’t seem to care very much. You open the door wider, and he enters, and he stands in your kitchen with his hands in his coat pocket as you shut the door and he’s perfect. It dawns on you that for the first time since the breakup, you feel safe. Like you don’t have to be a stone pillar anymore. This, of course, translates into even more tears, which you try to hide as you face away, re-locking the door.  

“Sweetheart...” he sighs, because you can’t hide anything from him. Hearing the resonance of his voice so close to you once more is overwhelming. In an instant you’re rushing into his arms, and he accepts you without hesitation. You bury your teary face in the vetiver safety of his button-up and slip your arms under his coat, as if you could absorb his warmth and forever hide from the world that way. He pulls you even closer. It’s terrible and cruel how much he is exactly what you needed. “What’s wrong? What did she say?” 

You shake your head and gasp a small sob. 

Truthfully, you’re not really crying about the petty insults from your mother anymore. You’re back to square one, the reason you’d called your mother to begin with—you miss the man whose arms are currently wound around your shoulders. 

His hand smooths over the back of your hair. 

“Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” 

You stay like that—content even as you cry because being with him feels so much safer than being alone. It feels right—or perhaps it’s just familiar. You don’t know which is worse.  

Spencer is rubbing soothing lines up and down your back as you cling to him, soaking him up in all his ephemeral, comforting glory. He surprises you by chuckling—it vibrates through his chest, buzzing against your ear. 

“Nice Magritte print. I bet the person who bought that has fantastic taste.” 

“Are you gonna ask for it back?” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket. He is, of course, referring to the painting you’d more or less stolen from his apartment seven months ago. You really don’t want him to take it home. It’s the most overt Spencer memorabilia you’d allowed yourself to keep in plain sight. 

“No, baby. You can keep it.” The words are low, and kind, and they settle you some, but you can’t seem to get him close enough. “What can I do?” he whispers after a moment, helpless as you take a shuddering breath. “Can I make you tea? Have you eaten?” 

“Will you just... stay for a little bit? I’ll—I promise I’ll stop crying.” 

There is an unexpected lull where you thought you’d receive pretty immediate agreement, but before you can pull back and ask what’s wrong, he murmurs, “yeah. I can stay for a while. But you have to kick me out before it gets too late.” 

You wonder if you’re imagining the double-entendre that seems to underline his words in bold red ink. Spencer is too smart to have not noticed a thing like that. You don’t mention it—it all boils down to the same unspoken idea. 

Don’t let me stay, because I might not leave. 

“I will,” you sniff, finally stepping back and wiping your own tears. It hurts to lose his touch, but at least you know he’s not going anywhere for the next few hours. This, as opposed to everything else lately, can be a beginning instead of an end.  

At least, until he goes home. 

Three and a half hours later, after tea, an impromptu dinner comprised mostly of cheese and crackers, and several vinyl changes on your record player (which served only as background noise for your long, ambling conversations), things are seeming to wind down to a natural stopping point. Which you hate. The whole time you’d had a dull ache in your chest because talking to him was easier than breathing and you knew it wouldn’t last. There had been one or two false bottoms already—the first when you’d yawned around nine, and the second when you’d gotten up to do your skincare and brush your teeth half an hour later. Even then he’d just leaned against the doorframe, watching your reflection above the sink as you talked for fifteen more minutes. Now you stand across from each other in the kitchen, plates restacked and everything in order. Of course he’d insisted on helping you clean up. 

“I should go,” he says, with a soft sort of finality in his voice.  

“Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin?” you tease gently, to hide how much you don’t want him to leave. He smiles—a small, weary thing—but genuinely and endlessly charmed by you. 

“That among other things.” 

“Would you—would you walk me to my room first?” 

The hesitance is clear in his eyes and the way his lips part as if to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, but you're sure he’s really going to leave in a moment and you’re also sure he won’t deny you this one small thing before he does. 

“Okay.” 

It’s a short, silent walk through the living room and down the hall to your bedroom door, but you can feel him trailing behind you the whole way. You stop in front of your open door, turning face to face with him.  

“Thanks,” you murmur.  

His lips pull into a melancholy smile. 

“Anytime.” 

There’s nothing left to do but wrap your arms around each other once more, tuck yourself into the you-sized space between his head and shoulder and hold on for as long as he’ll let you. The hug lingers for longer than is wise. Spencer adjusts his arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nuzzle against his neck, grateful that at least he seems as reluctant to let this end as you are.  

But eventually, it relaxes. Your hold on each other loosens. His face is just inches from yours, and you get to study every plane and valley and line like you’d thought you never would again. It seems he’s doing the same—losing himself in the luxury of seeing you up close. 

“Will you kiss me goodnight?” you whisper, unable to muster any self-consciousness though you know it’s a fool’s errand. Spencer strokes your waist. 

“I can’t do that, honey.” 

“Why not?” 

His voice is just as quiet as yours. It falters slightly as he speaks, so gently, so patiently. 

“Because we’re not together anymore.” 

“Why not?” 

Your feeble, desperate supplication sounds pitiable even to you. You’re not proud, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, either. All you want is an answer. But it’s like a child asking why the sky is blue, or the earth is round. There is a definitive explanation, but mostly, the adult will shrug, and say, that’s just how it is. 

Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut. His head tilts down. 

“We can’t do this again, sweetheart. You know why we’re not together.” 

In theory—yes. You’d had so many conversations when you’d broken up. It had been a long, painful process, spanning multiple all-nighters at his kitchen table, nursing coffee and trying to convince each other and yourselves that it was the right choice. But it just feels like a horrible, horrible mistake. You feel desperate to explain this to him before he slips away again—the words come out flustered, inelegant as you cling to him.

“But I don’t think I’m getting better without you. I tried, I tried so hard to be good on my own, but everything is worse and harder and—and we weren’t sure about it then, and I don’t think it was the right choice, because I still really need you. Like, all the time. I’m—it’s not getting better without you. Nothing got better.” 

He swallows, eyes darting between yours for an infinite second. You’re breathless and your heart is pounding after your confession—you can feel your eyes stinging with the few tears that managed to escape as you spoke. 

“Everything is worse,” he agrees shakily. “Everything. I’m—I’m getting disciplinary infractions from Hotch like I’m a child because I can’t focus on anything. Game of Thrones is the most complex literature I can comprehend right now. I had to use a calculator the other day.” 

You want to laugh, but nothing is funny until he’s yours again. 

“Then come back. Please come back, Spencer.” 

Finally, he leans closer, until your heads are pressed together, and his nose bumps yours, feather light. You're dizzy. You exhale. He inhales. 

“I don’t think I knew how to leave in the first place.” 

When he kisses you, it feels like home. 

[alienoresimagines]

Just some words I've been needing to hear for a few weeks now and once I finally wrote them down, I thought maybe there were other people who might need to hear them too ❤️

You don't need to be anyone's favorite writer for your writing to be good.

The worth of your writing is not measured by whether or not you're included in fic recs or the amount of comments/asks you get.

Your works don't need to be recognized as some of The fics of the fandom to be good or worth reading.

'Popular' writers in your fandom are also just writers (and humans!!) : you don't need to impress or be noticed by them to have a place in your fandom. Fandom should be fun so don't let your brain ruin it with a misplaced sense of competition <3

You don't need to post a fic every week to be considered a writer. You don't need to write every week to be a writer. There is no limited places in fandom: come and go as you want and as life allows you to. Post when you feel like it, there is no trend to surf on to stay 'relevant' as a fic writer or a content creator. Fandom will always wait for you.

Your writing is good, and the more you write, the more you find your style, the better it gets.

Your writing made someone's day. Your writing is helping the fandom stay alive. Your writing should make you happy, and that happiness should not be proportional to how recognized you are in your fandom.

I know it can be discouraging to see tons of fic recs in your fandom and none of them including your fics. But yesterday, when I was feeling down, I re-read my own published works because they were the stories I wanted to read. And I enjoyed reading them, so much. And that is enough to keep me writing, because it showed me there is no better person to write the stories I have in my head than myself (a huge progress considering months ago, I couldn't reread something I'd written because I was cringeing too hard to get through two sentences).

Find your people that will always hype you and your fics up: you and your writing don't have to appeal to every single person in your fandom. Write niche fics! Rarepairs seemingly no one brought up before! Include headcanons and takes and interpretations you've never seen written before!

Write the stories you are dying to read, and I promise you, you'll find other people who were hoping to find that story somewhere, too.

Your writing is unique because it can only ever be yours and same goes for your stories; your writing is worth reading and your stories are worth being written <3

[covenofagatha]

Birthday Girl

On your 21st birthday, your friends drag you to a bar to get wasted when you decide it's a good idea to drunk-call Professor Agatha Harkness.

Word count: 3400+

Warnings: smut, fingering, oral, intoxication, mentions of underage drinking, teacher x student (legal)

“One, two, three!” Wanda chants and you and your friends tap your shot glasses on the bar counter and quickly down them. 

You gasp at the burn and they laugh at you. It’s your 21st birthday and your best friends Wanda, Rio, and Natasha had dragged you out to the closest bar to get you wasted. They had all already turned 21 the year before; you were the baby in the group. 

“Fuck, that’s disgusting,” you groan. 

“Another round, please!” Rio motions to the bartender. He sets down four more tequila shots and one is shoved into your hand. 

“Think you can get to 21?” Wanda jokes and the thought of 20 more shots makes you want to gag. 

“I might puke after this one,” you say and your friends laugh. You were never a partier in high school or college, always preferring to curl up on the couch and watch a movie. You’d only had some sips of alcohol a few times, but you had never been drunk. 

“You deserve this!” Nat shouts in your ear. “Harkness has been working you to the bone!” 

You shrug and wave your hand dismissively, suddenly uncomfortable. Agatha Harkness is your History of Witchcraft professor at Westview University. She’s known around campus for being cold to everyone and rarely giving out A’s. She expected nothing short of excellence and would not put up with excuses. Everyone was terrified of her. 

Everyone except for you. 

Something about the older woman captivated you. You were obsessed with meeting her standards, dreaming of the day she would look at you with pride. You poured over your books for her class, rereading every sentence you wrote thrice, just to try to impress her. It had taken your friends days of begging to convince you to come celebrate your birthday with them because you had a paper for Agatha’s class due in a week and you were already worried about it. 

“I don’t know how you’re surviving,” Wanda says. “I had her last semester and got a C in the class. Third highest grade. She’s the worst.” 

“She’s not that bad,” you defend, not quite sure why. Something about Agatha getting so much hate for pushing her students rubs you the wrong way. 

“Yeah she is,” Rio joins in. “I heard that she’s a real witch.”

You roll your eyes. “Can we please stop talking about her? I thought you guys brought me here to get away from school.” You take the shot that’s still in your hand and it goes down smoother this time. 

“Yes, there we go!” Rio whoops. 

Two more shots later and your head has gone completely fuzzy. You feel as if you are floating on air and everything around you is happening in slow motion. You get off your stool and immediately stumble, Wanda catching you with her arms. 

“I think I’m a little drunk,” you tell her. She laughs like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. 

“No shit, y/n, you don’t have to yell!” 

You didn’t even realize you had. “We should probably go back to the dorms!” You look around to see Nat chatting with some girl and Rio throwing darts at the board in the corner. 

“Not yet,” Wanda says, picking up her rum and coke. You’re not sure how she’s still drinking after she also did four tequila shots. “I’ll get you some water.” She signals to the bartender and you squeeze your eyes shut, willing your vision to go back to normal. 

When you open them, you see dark hair in the corner. Is that–? You shift so you can get a better look and feel sorely disappointed when you realize the person is not Agatha. Why are you disappointed? The thought echoes in your head for a second, and then is replaced by a sudden urge to see your professor. 

“Drink this,” Wanda orders, pressing a glass of ice water into your hand, but you’re too busy scrolling through your phone. You know she put her number on the syllabus somewhere and you are too far gone to think that this might be a bad idea. 

You feel a thrill run through you when you find it. You read the number over and over, like you’re afraid it’s going to change somehow. 

“I’ll be back,” you slur to Wanda and then step out the side door into the alley. You type the number into your phone and your finger hesitates over the call button. You know you shouldn’t. But fuck it. You press the button and lift the phone to your ear. 

It rings. And then rings again. You’re about to hang up to spare yourself the rejection when the call connects. 

“Hello?” It’s actually her. 

Your breath catches in your throat and you stand up straighter. “Professor Harkness?” 

“Y/n? Is that you?” 

“Yeah.” Shit, this was a bad idea. Even with your head still swimming, you know that. You can’t just hang up though. 

“Why are you calling me at 10:30 on a Saturday night?” 

“Um,” you say, trying to think of something. You’re definitely going to have to drop her class after this. You’ll never be able to face her ever again. “It’s my birthday?” You offer lamely. 

Agatha scoffs. “Happy birthday. Can I help you with something?”

“Oh, no, Professor, I just wanted – we’re at a bar – I thought you were – and just wanted to say hi,” you ramble, knowing you’re not making any sense, and you can almost hear her smirk through the phone. 

“Y/n, are you drunk right now?” Her voice perks up and it sounds like she’s finally interested. 

“No!” you protest. “Well, maybe a little. But I’m 21 now!” 

“What bar are you at?” 

“Jimmy’s.” It’s a local dive bar that is a popular place for Westview students to hang out at. 

“I’ll be there in ten. Wait out front.” There’s a click and then she’s gone. You stare at your phone, dumbfounded. Is Agatha coming to pick you up? Why?

You walk back into the bar and order a Dirty Shirley. The call had sobered you up a bit and if you had already drunk-called your professor, why not get even more hammered. Wanda comes back over to you and giggles when she sees the new drink in your hand. 

“Alright, time to party!” she exclaims. You pick up on the fact that she’s a little drunk as well. You stand up, vision blurring for a second. 

“I actually called an uber,” you lie, even through your hazy mind knowing that your professor coming to pick you up might sound strange to them.

Wanda pouts and then throws her arms around you. “Happy birthday,” she says into your ear and your arms tighten around her. 

“Thank you,” you breathe back. You’re close with Rio and Nat as well, but they don’t have the same bond you and Wanda do. You pull back and then go say goodbye to your other friends. 

The wind outside does very little to sober you up and you shiver from the coldness. You’re wearing a purple crop-top and a black mini-skirt, something Nat had found buried deep in your closet. You watch the time on your phone, heartbeat picking up as it gets closer to ten minutes since Agatha had hung up on you. 

And then right on the dot, a slick black Range Rover pulls into the parking lot, and you immediately know it’s her. The car stops right in front of you, the passenger window rolling down, and your breath catches. 

It’s Professor Harkness, clad in a maroon suit, wavy hair falling over her shoulders. 

“Do you need me to open the door for you, too, princess?” Agatha says, sarcasm dripping over the words, when you haven’t moved. You shake your head, partly to answer and partly to clear the fog. You settle into the seat, not missing the way Agatha’s eyes rake over your skimpily clothed body.

“You didn’t have to come get me,” you mutter, putting real effort into not slurring your words. 

She glances at you and sees you struggling with your seatbelt. She reaches over and you freeze at her close proximity. Her breath is hot against your cheek and her fingers brush your stomach as she takes the seat belt from your hand and buckles it for you. “Thought I would spare the other people you drunk-called,” she says. 

Embarrassment runs through you. “You were the only one,” you say meekly, picking at a scab on your hand. You dare to peek at her, only to find her smirking, one eyebrow quirked. 

“Oh?”

“I shouldn’t have called.” This time, it’s harder to keep your words from running together. “We were talking about you and then I thought I saw you and I just wanted to see you.” You need to stop talking, now. 

Agatha hums. “Did you, now?” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ears as she shifts the car into drive and you watch her fingers. 

“You’re really hot,” you blurt out and then clamp a hand over your mouth. Fuck. 

Instead of pulling over and making you get out, like you thought she would, Agatha simply reaches over and pats your leg. “And you’re really drunk, sweetheart.” 

The pet name makes you swoon inwardly. “Not that drunk,” you say unconvincingly. “I only had one…two…” You trail off, attempting to count the number of drinks on your fingers. Agatha stifles a chuckle. 

“Is this your first time drinking?” She asks, amused. 

“No, but it is my first time drinking this much,” you admit. “My friends dragged me out since it’s my birthday. I was going to work on the essay for your class.” 

“You were going to spend your 21st birthday doing school work?” 

“Your essay’s due in a week. I wanted to make sure I-it was good enough for you.” 

She notices your slip of tongue and her smirk sends heat down low in your stomach. “You’re always good for me. Your essays are some of the best I’ve ever read.” 

Your heart skips a beat and your face flushes. “I have a B in your class.” 

“You have an 88 in my class. That’s the highest I’ve had in years. Can’t make it too easy,” she says with a wink. 

“You could make it just a little easier,” you grumble, the alcohol clearly getting rid of any inhibitions. 

“You keep doing what you’re doing, sweetheart, and it’ll go up, I promise. I’m very impressed with the work you’ve been turning in.”

A hot flash runs through you. “Just wanna be your good girl.” And if it wasn’t clear how you feel about her now, it sure is. But she doesn’t look disgusted or creeped out, only intrigued. 

She finally stops the car and you peer out the window, expecting to see your dorm. You haven’t been paying attention to where she’s been driving at all, and you’re quite surprised to see you’ve arrived at a two-story house in a cute, suburban neighborhood. 

“This isn’t where I live,” you say dumbly. 

“No, it’s not,” she agrees, getting out of the car and walking over to help you. You stumble up the steps to the front door, Agatha’s tight grip on your shoulder keeping you upright. You can feel her fingers playing with the ends of your hair. 

She unlocks the front door just as a wave of nausea hits you. “Oh, god,” you say weakly, holding a hand in front of your mouth. Agatha doesn’t even seem phased; she leads you to a bathroom in the hall and leaves, only to re-enter with a glass of water moments later. You gulp it down and feel better. 

“You okay?” she asks softly, stroking your cheek, eyes tracing up and down your face. You’ve never seen this side of her and you really like it. 

“I think so. Thank you again,” you murmur and you realize that you’ve been staring at her mouth. 

“Anything for my favorite student.” 

And then, because you’re apparently determined to fuck everything up even more, you lean in and press your lips to hers. Agatha stands still for a second before you pull back, horrified with yourself. 

“Professor, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to–” 

She draws you back in for a longer kiss this time, tongue licking into your mouth. You let out a long moan and she breaks away. 

“You’re drunk,” she tells you again.

You clasp the lapels of her blazer. “I know. But I want you.” 

She softly pries your fingers off her suit and smiles. “You need to sleep. And then we can talk about this in the morning.” 

You pout and she runs her thumb over your bottom lip, slightly pulling it down. You suck her finger into your mouth, delighting in the way her eyes darken. She steps back.

“Let’s go. You can sleep in the guest room. I’ll find you some pajamas and toiletries.” Her hand on the small of your back guides you up the stairs and to the room on the right. The guest room is simple but cozy and you immediately go to the bed and flop onto it. “Don’t fall asleep yet,” Agatha warns and then leaves the room. 

She comes back in a few minutes, an old shirt and sweatpants in one hand and a toothbrush and toothpaste in the other. She pats your legs in an effort to get you up but you can barely move, suddenly weighed down by all the drinks. 

“Come on, hon,” Agatha says and helps you stand up. You don’t move as she works to take your shirt and skirt off, your cheeks and upper chest flushing red. You try to cover yourself and she smirks. 

“M’sorry,” you mumble. 

“Don’t be. I’m enjoying the view.” You stare at her longingly, silently begging her to fuck you right there and then, but she helps you step into the sweatpants and pull the shirt over your head. She watches you brush your teeth and moves the covers so you can get into bed. “Do you need anything else?” 

Your hand grabs hers. “Just you,” you try again hopefully, but she chuckles and wrenches free of your grip. 

“Good night, birthday girl,” she whispers and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. And then she turns off the lights and leaves the room.

You fall asleep immediately. 

***

Sunlight streams through the blinds, waking you up. It takes you a minute to get your bearings and then the events of last night come back to you. 

The bar. Four shots of tequila and half a Dirty Shirley. Calling Agatha and her coming to pick you up and taking you to her house. Kissing her in the downstairs bathroom. Shit. 

You groan, head pounding. You see a container of Advil and a glass of water on the nightstand beside you. You take two Advil and drain the glass, heart warming at the thought of Agatha taking such good care of you. 

And then you remember that your relationship with her will forever be complicated by your actions. 

You solemnly brush your teeth and pull back on the clothes you wore to the bar last night, neatly folding Agatha’s pajamas and placing them on the bed. You hope she hasn’t woken up yet so you can sneak out without her having to tell you how inappropriate you behaved last night. 

No such luck. The second you get downstairs, Agatha perks up from where she’s typing on her laptop on the couch.

“Good morning, darling,” she purrs, shutting her computer. You gulp, taking her outfit in. She’s wearing a robe that ends mid-thigh and the neckline drops low. 

“Hey,” you say casually, trying to hide how much you’re internally freaking out. 

“Do you want something for breakfast? I can cook you something.” She stands up and walks to the kitchen and you follow like a lost puppy. You involuntarily lick your lips at the way her hips are swaying. 

“What are my options?” Your voice is raspy, still feeling hungover. She glances back at you and her eyes dart up and down your body. 

“I can make eggs. Bacon. I think I have pancake mix in the pantry. What would you like?” 

You’re a little confused that she hasn’t scolded you yet. And then you remember something else. She kissed you. 

You swallow hard. Whatever else you may have done last night that you can’t remember, she doesn’t hate you for it. She might even want you back. 

“Are you on the menu?” It comes out before you can even realize what you’re saying. 

Agatha freezes and turns around. You shift your weight nervously, but then you see her pupils blown out. Her eyes are so dark you can barely see any blue. “What?” She asks carefully.

“You kissed me last night,” you say, a little breathless. You have absolutely no idea where this confidence is coming from. “You wouldn’t do anything else cause I was drunk. But I’m not drunk now.” 

She steps toward you and roughly grasps your hair. She tilts your head back, exposing your neck just a tad. “No, you’re not.” She regards you for a second. “You know you’re not going to get extra credit for trying to sleep with your professor.” 

You laugh. “That’s not why I’m doing this.” 

She smirks. “Good.” And then she licks a hot stripe up your neck and bites down, sucking a mark on your skin. You gasp loudly and tangle your hands into her hair. 

“Professor,” you moan and you drag her into a filthy kiss. She backs you up until your thighs hit the table so she lifts you up onto it. Your legs wrap around her to pull her closer. Agatha pushes up your crop-top and kneads your breast, thumb stroking your nipple, never once breaking your kiss.

Her hand creeps under your skirt and cups your mound over your underwear. Your hips jump on their own at the stimulation. 

“Please,” you beg. Her lips curl into a smile. 

“What do you want?” Her fingers have pushed your underwear to the side and have started lazily stroking through your folds, spreading your wetness. 

“You,” is all you can say before she sinks a finger into your hole. 

“Like this?” She asks innocently, thrusting hard. 

“Yes,” you pant, quickly untying her robe so you can touch her. She’s completely naked underneath and you lean down so you can take a nipple into your mouth. 

“That’s perfect, baby,” she sighs, setting a relentless pace with her fingers after she slips another one in you. “Is this what you hoped would happen when you called me last night?”

“I’ve been hoping for this since the first day of the semester,” you answer, and she falters for a second, thrown off by your honesty. 

She pulls out of you and panic runs through you, terrified that you said the wrong thing. But she just pushes you down so your back is resting on the table and she pulls out one of the chairs from the table. 

“What are you–” Before you can finish your sentence, she leans forward and sucks your clit into her mouth. Your back arches off the table, hands rushing down to hold her in place. “Fuck, Professor!” 

She devours your pussy like she’s a starving woman, pulling all sorts of loud noises from you. 

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cum,” you chant, hips grinding on her face, trying to get the last bit of stimulation you need to send you over the edge. She knows what you need and presses her fingers inside you, curling them just right and gives your clit a hard last lick. You cum harder than you ever have before, her name on your lips like a prayer. She helps you ride through the aftershocks and then trails kisses up your body until she can kiss your mouth. 

“How was that?” she asks after you pull away to catch your breath. 

“That was probably the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten,” you say, which cracks both of you up. “But I’m not finished.” 

Her eyebrow quirks up and she smirks. “Oh?” You stand up, putting your hands on her hips and flipping her around so she’s leaning against the table. 

You sink to your knees in front of you, not even bothering with a chair. You slowly push her robe up so it bunches at her waist. “Can I return the favor?” 

A glint appears in her eye and she fists one of her hands in your hair preemptively. “I’d like nothing more.” 

[erwinsvow]

𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞, 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐬

summary: aaron hotchner is a lot of things. in love with you is one that you never saw coming.

word count: 7.1k

author's note: bau!reader + hotch is my favorite combo ever. i haven't written and posted in, like, two years so please be nice :) i've written so many other versions of hotch but this one just wrote itself. inspired by the amazing @luveline and so many breathtaking hotch stories and isabel (alisdas on ao3, not on here anymore i think :( ) who wrote of terrible coffee and late-night rides which i think started all of this and my immense aaron brain rot when i read that fic, like, three years ago. enjoy!

This was wrong, Aaron thought to himself. He seldom committed acts that others might say were wrong, or argue they could potentially be wrong, but this was different. Aaron felt wrong, a feeling he was not used to.

“I’m worried about you, that’s all,” you had said quietly on the jet early one morning. You two were sitting across from each other on the flight back from the team’s latest solved case, an excruciating long ride home from the coast of Oregon.

Your book laid open on your lap, unread and a bookmark tucked between the earlier pages. The spine was cracked, like you’d read it a hundred times before. He knew that wasn’t true though, it was just a used novel probably from the thrift store around the corner of your apartment.

You had told him once, back when you first started—back when he was still married and you were less affected by this job—that you liked finding used (pre-loved, you call it) books and picking the most worn out ones to take home. You said it means that someone used to love this book.

It felt wrong because you were too young for him, and too innocent to be mixed up in his life. What could you know about his thoughts? About the love of his life that divorced him and his son he only sees once in a while.

The rest of the team makes jokes with you, in particular JJ and Penelope. He’s even heard Emily pitch in, about your not-so-secret fondness for your boss. For him. 

Back when you had first started, it was nothing. Passing glances, working extra hard to please him and earn his praise—which was never given out generously. He hadn’t even taken the time to notice, never paid more attention than any other member of the team. What he did notice was your work ethic.

Being among the youngest of the team had instilled a drive in you to prove your worth. You always stayed an hour extra, came early, and spent  nights working the case even when you were yawning every few minutes. The most attention he’d given you back then was commenting that you’d had a good insight into the unsub, commending you on well-written reports and briefs, and offering you a cup of coffee when it was just you and him left in the sheriff’s office. He’d be rereading seemingly endless pages of the case reports and you’d be diving headfirst into the victim’s lives.

Your specialty was always understanding why the victims did what they did, figuring out their routines and ascertaining important details from their personal belongings. He was used to you flicking through diaries and boxes of mementos that were once treasured by another young girl, not so much older than yourself. 

He’d be lying if he hadn’t thought it was impacting you—reading through the journals of dead women who had been very similar to yourself, with similar hopes and dreams. It was depressing, he knew, and yet if you were bothered by it, you didn’t show it in the slightest. At least not to him. 

And back then, he’d never notice the sweet smile that always graced your face when he was asking you if you’d like coffee. You’d shake your head no, and take sips of water between your yawns. You didn’t even tell him that you don’t drink coffee until a few months later, after he asked if you’d ever like a cup when he offered. He can remember it clearly even now.

“Actually, Hotch, I don’t drink coffee.” Your cheeks were tinged with color like you were embarrassed to even be admitting this to him.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner? I would have stopped asking three months ago.” If he sounded stern, he didn't mean to. The burning on your face deepened.

“I didn’t want to be rude. I drink tea though, but I didn’t think to mention it. It’s not as easy to make.”

“Well, let me know if you need a cup of hot water then.”

You had smiled at that, and he had turned around to take another picture on the bulletin board. He smiled a little too.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” he said, maybe a little too gruffly. He didn’t mean it, again, but it just came out that way. He thinks some part of him is trying to warn you to stay away before you get too close.

“We’re all worried. You went through something really big and didn’t tell any of us and even if you don’t care about us like that, I care about you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

Aaron’s gaze casts around the rest of the jet.  Derek has his headphones in, staring out the window and trying to resist sleep. JJ and Emily are playing cards—they should be sleeping, but they had a little too much espresso a few hours before. They’re too far away to hear you and Aaron speaking, but he notices JJ’s eyes darting over every once in a while. Spence is asleep, and he realizes that’s why it’s so quiet. Dave is reading a book, too, but he’ll stop and interject into JJ and Emily’s conversation.

He looks back at you, sleepy-eyed and wrapped in a warm, boxy pullover from your alma mater. He thinks a little bit too much about you these days, and he can’t get it to stop. He shouldn’t profile anyone on the team, they have a strict moratorium on that, but especially not you.

You, who never fails to try to make anyone feel better when they’re down. You, who doesn’t make it seem like you’re analyzing their behavior, but rather observing and offering comfort in hard times. You remember everything the team tells you about their likes and dislikes, never forgetting a birthday or special occasion. He can distinctly recall fresh chocolate chip cookies on Derek’s birthday, carrot cake from the Italian bakery Rossi loves to celebrate when his latest book became a bestseller, and a new knick knack for Penelope’s office after a particularly brutal case.

You say it’s all in passing, but he knows it’s not. You’re trying your hardest to keep the team together in the little ways, strengthening bonds that extend beyond coworkers. You want to fit in and be accepted, and you worry so much that you won’t. This is your way of trying to show that you’re a part of this team too, not just the new girl and one of the young ones. 

Aaron blinks twice. You’re looking at him expectantly, and he wishes you wouldn’t. All he’ll do is disappoint you. 

“You don’t need to worry,” he repeats. “I’ll be fine.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t say that. Why is it so bad for us to worry about you?” You look like you’re starting to get upset—it hurts Aaron more than he realized it would. It’s not bad for the others to worry, it’s bad for you. If you get attached, if he lets this get unprofessional, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself. Hurting himself is one thing; hurting you is another entirely.

“Let it go, Agent. Try to get some rest.” He looks out the window. He can see the sun coming up, and realizes he hasn’t slept since the night before last. He still needs to drive home—not really home, he remembers sadly, his empty apartment— and work on reports before he can even see Jack. He doesn’t think resting now is a good idea, and yet his body is so tired.

When he looks back, you’re reading your book again but your eyes are really paying attention to the words on the page. You’re just skimming, and blinking rapidly, and he realizes then he’s made you tear up.

His phone goes off—Haley, and he feels guilt building up in his chest, almost overwhelming him. He steps away to answer and talks quietly. He doesn’t want you to overhear and worry even more. When he comes back to his seat, you’ve fallen asleep. He takes the book from your hands gently and puts the bookmark in, closing it and resting it on the seat beside you. He watches you sleep and wonders if he’s making a mistake trying to hide from you. He thinks, and not for the first time, that you see right through him.

The plane lands an hour and a half later, and everyone is beyond exhausted. Even Spencer, who normally doesn’t need much energy or caffeine to start talking fast about something interesting he noticed about this case and this unsub, is unusually quiet. They’re all running on fumes, staying up two nights in a row profiling and then catching the unsub with the latest victim at one in the morning, and then boarding the jet soon after.

Aaron makes a decision, everyone can work on their notes from home and the report is due no later than day after next. Derek pats him on the shoulder and says no one is to call him for the next twenty-four hours. JJ and Emily exchange a laugh. Y

ou, he notices, though he wishes he wouldn’t, go up to Spencer and talk with him quietly. When you’re done, he beams at you and you at him. He wonders what you two talked about when they’re all heading out, listening to Spencer ramble about how the unsub’s use of his childhood spots as disposal sites offers insight into the abuse of his youth. Prentiss tells him to save it for the report. 

He and Rossi are walking back to their cars when Dave speaks up for the first time.

“You’re wondering what she said to him, aren’t you?”

Aaron stops for a moment. 

“You should know better than to profile me.”

“Oh, I’m not profiling. This is just me being observant. You should stop fiddling with your ring finger when you talk to her. It’s a dead giveaway.”

“Dave, I don’t need to tell you that this conversation—“

“I know, I know. I won’t mention it again if you don’t want me to.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow, Aaron. And by the way, she offered to write his notes for him if he wanted. He said it’s hard for him to write about unsubs with schizophrenic tendencies and she said she can try to help, if he wants. That’s all. Let me know when you’re ready to talk about this.”

Aaron gets in his car and doesn’t stop thinking about you the entire ride home.

-

You wish you could make it stop. The way you feel about your boss. It started so long ago, it’s almost a part of you now. Aaron is stern and his disposition is frightening, to the say the least. But only at first, you’ve realized, after so many late evenings spent discussing the case with him, breaking down the tiniest details, and him paying attention to your every word when you discuss the victim’s demeanor and behavior to try to figure out what had really happened.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you thought. You had gone to the overpopulated state school with the hopes of entering the medical field. You were a true empath, and there was no one’s suffering you couldn’t relate to, no one that you wouldn’t try to make feel better. All your life, people cried on your shoulder while you offered up words of comfort. And because of this, everyone thought you were a shoo-in for nursing or medical school, where you could help people through the worst days of their life.

All it took was a few days at the hospital where you had been working, a string of murder victims being wheeled in one after another, for you to reconsider your life’s work. None had survived the incident, but the killer let them live just long enough to be seen by the doctor, who then had to declare them legally dead.

Something about the victims seemed familiar to you, how they’d all come from wealthy families and were sliced up in their expensive clothing, expensive jewelry and watches smashed to bits instead of being stolen. You mentioned it to one of the officiers, who told someone else, and somewhere in that chain of events, your insight helped them catch the killer.

It was then, you thought, that maybe you should be working on the other side of these situations. Stopping the killer before it ever got to this. 

Then you’d done a one-hundred and eighty degree spin on your career, electing to pursue becoming an agent. You had been young, and motivated, and you chose to overlook when everyone told you this job might become your whole life, leaving no time for a husband and kids and a family.

You had ignored it all, working your way up from the local field office to child crimes in just a year and a half. The transition out of sex crimes to homicide was disturbingly hard, because at least before you’d had a victim to interview. You were no expert, not yet, but a unique asset altogether, combining a true mission to uncover the best in each victim, and figuring out their behavior patterns from bedrooms and diaries.

It was a unique skill-set, acquired mostly because a lot of traumatized children didn’t offer much to go off of. You had to turn to their childhood homes, toys, and scribbles to figure out what had been going on in the first place.

You reflect often on why you decided to leave child homicide when news spread that the BAU had an opening for one more agent. Truthfully, you hadn’t considered it at all, since you were more than happy with your current position and coworkers. You were solving cases, delivering justice, and bringing whatever comfort you could bring to grieving families.

In fact, you had been requested specifically. You, out of a hundred or more well-established, intelligent agents that could be a huge asset to the team. You were never special, and you didn’t like to think of yourself in that way either, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt to hear that the team wanted you. 

And when you transferred over, everyone was so nice. The team was inviting, they respected your opinion, and especially in cases with younger victims, they revered your knowledge. You felt included, and invaluable, and as hard as you worked, you wanted to work even harder. 

Your boss was a brilliant agent and profiler, and so hardworking that you wanted to do anything you could to make his workload a little easier. You wrote the most detailed reports, so he would have to edit them as much.. You offered to pick up extra briefs, so he took home a couple less papers. And no matter what you did, acknowledged or not, you knew you were making the kind of difference you’d always dreamed you would. 

Aaron—he was only ever Aaron in your head, and Hotch the rest of the  time—liked you as an agent, and it made you happy. A little happier than you should be, considering he was happily married with a toddler and a perfect life outside of work. It was almost wrong, but it didn’t stop you from trying to impress him with your work ethic.

You always put aside your other feelings and focused on the team, and somehow in all of that, you felt like you were finally making your difference. You were close with the team and close enough with Aaron, that you hadn’t been worried to start that conversation on the jet now that all these circumstances were changing. Haley had asked for a divorce and he hadn’t muttered a word of it to anyone.

He’s so tired, you can see. You wonder if everyone else notices it too, or if it’s just you observing so closely. He has dark circles now, because he never sleeps, always working, and the furrows on his forehead are seemingly etched in and permanent. He misses his wife and his son, and you know it, and maybe it’s wrong to care about your boss so much that your heart hurts when you see him glancing at the framed photos of his family on his desk, or the tiny polaroids in his wallet, but you do. You think you’re in love with Aaron Hotchner, and you don’t know how to make it stop. 

You’re gonna get hurt, you remind yourself every now and then. 

Aaron and Spence have just come back from the prison, where they had an encounter with Chester Hardwick that they won’t really talk about. You’d been with the rest of the team in Indiana, and then two days later in Oregon. 

Aaron and Haley were divorcing, and it hurt him so much, you knew, because it wasn't for a lack of love. It was a lack of time, a shortness of hours in the day. He couldn’t be the husband Haley wanted and the father he thought Jack needed while being an agent for eighteen hours a day. It hurt you too, seeing him like this. You wish he felt better. 

The days and weeks seemed to blend into months. Somewhere in between Hotch’s divorce and JJ’s pregnancy, you had become complacent with your relationship with Aaron. Walking in together from the parking lot, leaving together at the end of a long day—usually alone and sometimes joined by Emily or David. Sometimes you’d have a frothy drink from a nearby coffee shop in your hand—to which you always hear, “My coffee’s not better than that stuff?”

“It’s not coffee, remember-”

“I know, you don’t drink coffee. That stuff is full of sugar. I don’t need you bouncing off the walls like Reid and Garcia too.”

You laugh, and then you wonder if it’s because he really cares or if it was just a passing comment. You share a lot of little moments like that. 

When his eardrum was nearly blown out after New York, you almost offered to drive back with him from Ohio to Virginia. It was instinct, because you just didn’t want him to be alone. You had exchanged a glance when he handed you the plate of brownies from the victim’s mother, and you knew he had read your mind. But he didn’t say anything, and you left it at that. You’re not nearly stupid enough to think that your boss reciprocates your feelings for him. Hell, most days you don’t even know what feelings you have for him.

Your seats on the jet are almost permanently fixed; near the coffee machine towards the cockpit. You sit across from each other, and sometimes you don’t even speak. He’ll bring you a cup of hot water, and he doesn’t ask if you need a tea bag from the make-shift coffee station, because knows they’re in your go-bag. 

When it’s his weekend with Jack after two weeks of back-to-back cases, Aaron is always working on the reports on the jet. It’s because he’s trying to reduce how much work he has to do at home, and even when everyone’s fallen asleep and your eyes are close to shutting, you get up and make him a cup of coffee. He’s never once told you how he takes it, and he doesn’t know if you’ve seen him make it either, but somehow you know, and it’s always right. When you offer him the steaming paper cup, he looks up at you with an entirely new look���something you’ve never seen before. You two don’t exchange so many words.

He says it all with his eyes, sometimes, even when you’re not looking. It’s gratitude. (When you get off the jet a few hours later, you tease Morgan about his snoring. Derek asks you where his cup of coffee is, and you shove his arm so hard he almost drops his bag.

In the end, it was you who had figured out there was something wrong with the Reaper’s last few victims. 

“Why would a nineteen year old girl date her teaching assistant?” You had questioned, looking through a file that everyone’s eyes had already seen. “An honors student, a freshman, I mean, none of this points to an illicit affair with faculty. She knew it was against the rules and her roommates said she’s never so much as skipped class.”

“That could have been because she wants to see him,” Derek interjects. “If they were truly in love like Foyet said, she’d take every opportunity to be with him.”

“But in an environment where no one can know you two are together? I mean, if she was in love and close to getting engaged, wouldn’t she tell her best friends? Her parents? How many teenage girls keep something like that just to themselves?”

The pieces of the puzzle that had once fit together so nicely were coming undone. It felt like the blink of an eye, from catching Foyet to him escaping. Everyone was on edge, no one more than Aaron, and your empathy still knew no bounds. Where you had once been able to focus on work and dedicate all your thoughts to the cases, you now were distracted and distant. Every other thought was about Aaron, as wrong as that might be. 

Canada had been something else entirely. It was difficult for the entire team to fathom, but nearly impossible for you. You had lost your temper twice—something you’d never done before— and thrown up when the team discovered all the shoes. JJ had run after you but in the end, Aaron was the one who found you outside.

“I’m sorry, JJ, I’ll be fine—I-I just need a minute,” you breath out, chest heaving and tears brimming. 

“It’s okay,” Aaron says, ���take your time.” 

You turn around so fast, your breath catching, and you hate this situation. You could never hate Aaron but you hate this, you hate that he followed you and that he’s seeing you like this. You look weak, after two and a half years of trying to prove to him that you’re strong—strong enough to handle this job, do what needs to be done, and not cry at a crime scene.

“I-I’m sorry, I-” 

“Why are you apologizing?” He doesn’t sound mad, or like he’s belittling you, and you don’t know why that’s what you expected. This is Aaron, your Aaron, and even though he’s not really yours it doesn't seem to matter much right now.

“I’m making a scene. I-I shouldn’t be throwing up on the job or screaming at those unsubs or anything else-”

“It’s okay. It happens.” Aaron says it so concisely, you almost feel better for a second. Isn’t this what it’s always come down to? You need Aaron like air, and somehow he always knows what you need to hear. He doesn’t treat you any differently compared to the others but it feels different today. You can’t describe it in words. If JJ or Morgan had followed you out here, you would have said the same things, but you wouldn’t have felt this way. Like if you crumble here today, Aaron will be there to pick you up.

“Take your time, please,” he repeats. “I know you think you have something to prove to me, but you don’t. You’ve proven it already, to all of us. Admitting that all of this gets to you isn’t a bad thing. That’s what separates us from them.”

At that moment, a dam bursts. Tears flow down your face like they haven’t in so long, as long as you can remember. You think you should feel embarrassed, crying in front of your boss, but Aaron takes you into his arms and you can’t remember the last time you felt this safe. Cheesy, you think, but this is everything I thought it would be and more.

You’re not sure how long he holds you there, but eventually once the front of his shirt is covered in your tears and he offers you a tissue (Does he just carry this around waiting for one of us to cry?) and you head back together. This is the embarrassing part, you think, bracing yourself and biting your inner cheek. But if the team is judging you at this moment, they certainly don’t show it.

You join JJ and Emily inside the house, who ask you if you’re okay when you sniffle for the last time. Spencer asks you later, on the way home. Derek tells you to call him if you need anything. Dave tells you, “You’ll be okay, kid,” and somehow, you believe him. Penelope texts you once on your phone, checking in and promising a distracting, gossip filled girl’s night out soon.

Aaron walks you to your car, and says goodnight. You’re delusional, you think, once you're back at home. You’ve taken the longest, hottest shower imaginable and your record player is emitting the scratchy sound of your favorite Beatles album. You’re in a big shirt that’s getting wet while you brush your freshly cleaned hair and all you can think about is how it felt to be wrapped in Aaron’s arms a couple hours ago. 

You are delusional, you remind yourself. You’re checking your phone every couple minutes like a love-sick teenager. You think Aaron’s going to call you to check in, you almost feel it in your bones. You leave the ringer on incase he calls later—maybe he showered and sat down to work on some reports before sleeping. You fall asleep thirty minutes later, exhausted down to your bones, and wake up startled by your phone going off. In your sleepy delirium, you answer without looking who it is—assuming it’s Aaron.

“Hotch?” 

“Hey, sorry it’s JJ. We have another case, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, JJ, um, okay, I-I’ll be there in ten. Text the address, okay?” Your cheeks burn at the slip.

“I sent it just now. Listen, I’m sorry, but can you try Hotch’s cell? I called and texted and he’s not answering.” You feel your stomach turn, first because Aaron isn’t answering and he always answers, and second because JJ thinks he’ll answer if you call.

“I’ll try him now. I’ll call you back.”

You try him twice while changing and another time in the car. Your only explanation is that maybe he went to see Jack and put his phone away, but even that doesn’t check out. 

When you get to the scene, you inform the others about Aaron not answering.

“Alright, let’s split up for now and I’ll keep trying Hotch,” Derek says. They don’t seem that worried, and maybe that lulls you into not worrying either. After all, they’ve known him a lot longer than you have.

You end up with Spencer and Emily at the doctor’s house, combing through patient files Garcia sent over. There’s tens of dozens, and even though you want to go with Emily to Aaron’s place to get him, you know your experience with kids and in the hospital is vital. You and Spencer start working, but something feels off. You just can’t place it. 

In the end, you attribute it to your nerves from the last case. Your fear of embarrassing yourself carried into today, and even though you know no one judged you for losing it in Canada, the feeling lingers. Spencer answers the phone from Emily and says that Hotch was busy with something at the bureau that now requires Emily too. In the end, you and Spence figure it out just in time. Your body is so tired, it hurts, and then on top of that, Spencer gets hurt. You can barely process what’s happening, and you don’t feel better until the doctor says it’s through-and-through.

“God, Spencer, never do that again,” you say, your hands wet with the blood from his wound. You wipe it on your clothes, thinking you’ll change soon. 

“Guys, guys listen to me, something’s happened to Hotch.” The blood drains from your face and your breath stops in your throat. 

“What?” 

“Emily told me not to say anything until we got the unsub, but he’s in the hospital.”

The next hour is a blur. You all show up to the hospital, and Emily is talking to a bunch of agents. Their faces are blurred because you can hardly think straight. 

“Em? Is he okay?” your words must be coming out frantically because everyone’s looking at you like you’re about to crumble. 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t say anything because I knew we wouldn’t be able to think straight about the case, I know it’s wrong but-”

“Is he okay?” You didn’t mean to cut her off, it just happened like that. Your mind is so clouded right now with a petrifying vision of Aaron dying alone on the floor of his new apartment that he hates so much, while you were waiting for a call for him.

“He-he hasn’t woken up yet.” 

You sit on a chair by Aaron’s bed. He looks like he’s sleeping, and a part of you had always wanted to see him like this. It would be comforting, if he actually was sleeping. You’d imagined it a little differently—you thought for sure he snores and sleeps on his side. You always notice sleep lines only on one arm when you guys have just woken up and continue working on the case. You stare extra hard when he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt on particularly hot days. Everyone would moan and groan about another case in the heat of Texas or Arizona, but not you.

It seems like those memories were a million years ago. 

When he wakes up, everyone pours in and it distracts you for a few heartbeats. When they realize what Foyet is actually after, the terror is apparent on everyone's faces. You realize how long it’s been since you last saw Haley and Jack when they finally step into the room. You and Emily leave to give them privacy. 

Later that night, you’re back in that chair. Aaron wakes up for a few minutes at a time, and when he finally stays awake, he notices you.

“How long have I been out?” 

“Thirty minutes. Give or take.”

“Is there water?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You scramble up to get the pitcher and pour him a glass. There’s a straw too, which you put in the cup and hold still for a second so he can drink.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.” He can see all your emotions on your face. It doesn’t take him long at all, not anymore. You’ve been crying and your clothes have blood on them. He’s alarmed again.

“Is that your blood?” he asks, swallowing hard.

“No, no, Hotch. We had a case, the-the unsub shot Spence. He’s okay though, it just got on me and I haven’t been back home to change yet.”

“Why don’t you? Go home?”

“I didn’t want to leave you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I let you go home alone yesterday and look what happened.” You smile meekly at your own joke, hoping he appreciates it. He lies still though, not smiling. 

“I think you should go home. Get some rest after everything.”

“You know, Hotch, only you would tell me to go home and rest up when you’re the one who’s currently in the hospital.” 

“I just think-”

“Do you want me to leave? If you do, I will. I swear.” There’s silence between you two for a moment.

“No.” 

“Good, because I wasn’t going to.” The corners of his mouth turn up a little. You barely even notice it. “I can’t leave now. I don’t want you to sit alone here.” You should stop talking, you think to yourself. But you don’t. “You know yesterday, I got home and the whole time I sat there wondering if you were gonna call my cell. I even turned the ringer up all the way so I didn’t miss it. And I know that’s stupid because why would you call me? But I had this feeling. And now all I can think is why didn’t I call you?”

“Don’t think like-”

“Don’t think like that? Yeah, I knew you would say that. But if I had called you like I wanted to, and asked you to come over like I wanted to, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. But I didn’t because I was scared and I don’t want to be scared anymore. And I know this is the last thing you need to hear right now, but I guess I can’t hold it in any longer.” 

You want to clamp your hand over your mouth. Your favorite cheesy rom-coms have infiltrated your brain, and you can’t fathom how stupid you must sound right now to Aaron. He’s just almost died and the kid who was the last to join his team is declaring love for him on his hospital bed. But it won’t stop coming out.

“Can I tell you something Aaron? I mean, more than I already have? Emily said she didn’t tell me you were hurt because she knew I wouldn’t be able to think straight about the case anymore. About anything, anymore, if I knew you were missing or that you were hurt or dead. And I’ve been trying to hide it for so long, because I know you don’t need any more complications in your life right now, but, I think I have feelings for you, Aaron.” Hot tears stream down your face. You try to stop them but you can’t. They’ve been building up for two years.

“Please don’t cry. I don’t have a tissue for you this time.” You smile through your tears, but your entire body is still tense. It’s because you’re still expecting bad news, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Do you want me to leave? I can call Emily, she’ll sit with you if you don’t want to be alone.”

“I don’t want you to leave. And you don’t have to tell me these things, I already knew them.” Another few tears drip down your face. Aaron’s chest hurts more than it has ever before. He thinks back to your conversation on the jet that day, when you told him you cared about him and he hadn’t said much of anything at all. “I hope you know that I have feelings for you, too.” 

“You mean you care about me and the team?” you question half-heartedly. You think you’ve already gotten your answer. “I mean I care about the team a lot. And I care about you more than I should, more than what’s right. More than a superior should care about one of their agents. And I think if this hadn’t happened, I would have called you last night. Not because of the case, because of you. Because I need to make sure you’re okay.”

Your heart thumps uncomfortably in your chest. Aaron reaches out his hand a little, and you take it into yours. You sit like that for a long time, and you know there’s so much else going on, but a small part of you sighs in relief. Aaron is okay, and he feels about you how you do about him, and maybe everything will be okay in the end. 

The months after Haley’s funeral are tough for everyone. It’s weird going to work and not seeing Aaron. Sometimes you inadvertently make a cup of coffee how he likes it and have no one to give it to. You started drinking some, even though it tastes bitter and terrible, it makes you feel close to him.

How stupid is that, you wonder one day, sipping the coffee and looking over files with JJ. If the rest of the team thinks you're stupid, they haven’t shown any signs of it yet. You’re sure they mostly feel bad for you and your pathetic behavior. You’ve gotten sloppy because you can’t stop thinking about how Aaron is doing. 

You and the team will go visit him and Jack at his new place. You make cookies, snickerdoodle for Aaron and oatmeal raisin for Jack.

“What kind of a kid are you?” you questioned, helping Jack scribble in his Captain America coloring book. He’s munching on a cookie while you try to figure out what part of the shield is blue and what part is red. “I mean, who likes oatmeal raisin cookies at the tender age of 5?” 

“I did,” Spencer says, taking another one out of the tin. 

“You don’t count, genius,” Morgan says, and then directs his gaze at you. “And I mean come on, no chocolate chip for me? None at all? That hurts.”

“I made you some like two weeks ago! I have a job, you know,” you fire back. Aaron laughs, eating the snickerdoodle after dipping it in milk. It’s so domestic, you feel yourself staring. You only turn away when he catches you looking. 

When he comes back, you wonder if it’ll ever feel normal again. That silly routine you two had, the chairs on the jet near the coffee machine that you still sit in, walks to your car. 

At first, it just feels strange. So much has changed yet the team’s dynamic remains the same. You get through cases with the same ferocity you had when you first started, eager to prove your worth again. Your reports detail every detail and then some, and you stay even later than Aaron some nights. You need something to focus on, and your cases seem like the best option. The other option is to have another conversation with Aaron about your feelings and you think you might die if that happens.

When it finally does happen, it’s plenty embarrassing. You were so sure about your theory about this unsub, so sure that he would confess if he was confronted about his crimes and reminded of the humanity of his victims—three little kids, all under ten. Maybe that’s why it bothered you so much, and that’s why you stormed into the residence even though the rest of the team was screaming at you not to. In the end, you talk him down, but Aaron runs in behind you anyways and nearly spooks the unsub into suicide.

“You do not have the authorization to make calls like that,” Aaron yells at you, and though you had once thought you would die if he yelled at you, it’s all too easy to yell back. 

In that moment, when you had known what would happen, dealing with your area of expertise, he stormed in and questioned you and your abilities as an agent and as a profiler.

“I don’t need authorization, I knew what would happen, and I knew how to talk him down without this ending in gunfire—”

“I don’t care what you think you knew. This is a team, and we don’t make decisions that jeopardize a case without agreeing on it!” “You mean you have to agree with every decision I make? I had it handled, Hotch, you almost blew that whole thing up because you didn’t believe in me!”

“That’s not what this is about,” he fires back, and it feels strange to be yelling at you. He can’t recall the last time he’s ever done this. The rest of the team is just packing up in the police station, trying not to overhear but not really having any choice in the matter.

“Yes it is! You don’t trust me! Not to make decisions for this team and for our cases, or for anything. You just proved that back there. You don’t trust me.” It’s happening again. Tears brew in your eyes. They spill down before you can stop it. Aaron softens before your very eyes at the sight of them. “Stop! Stop feeling bad just because now I’m crying, they’re not tears for you, they’re angry tears and I can’t control it-”

“Of course, I trust you.” His voice has dropped from a yell to just above a whisper. “How could you think that I don’t?”

“I’m not stupid, Aaron. I know what I’m doing. My plan was going to work and you shot me down in front of everyone because you didn’t believe in me,” you say between tears. “Nothing’s changed.”

“And what do you think would happen if you stormed in there and I lost you too?” His voice is gentle. You hadn’t noticed that he was so close to you now. You can see the eyelash on his cheek and feel the heat radiating from his body. 

“That’s not what this is about.”

“That is exactly what this is about. You think I don’t trust you, so I won’t let you walk into a confrontation alone? That I think you don’t know how to profile, how to handle these unsubs, so I get into a screaming match outside a crime scene? Tell me, does that check with any of my behavior in the years I’ve known you?”

“I don’t know, Hotch, I don’t profile you.”

“You call me Hotch in front of everyone, and especially when you’re upset with me. When it’s just us you use Aaron. You know how I take my coffee even though I’ve never told you, because you pay attention even when no one else is looking. Cases with children affect you the most, especially when it takes us longer to work them, because you think you should be quicker and figure out the unsub faster since you worked with kids before joining the team. You remember the little things everyone says because you don’t want them to think you’re not paying attention to them. You cry about cases when you feel like there’s something more you should have done, even though there’s nothing else any of us can do. And you cry about me the most of all, that time on the jet, in the hospital, and just now because you think I don’t share your feelings. You think I know all this because I’m profiling you, but it’s not. It’s because I pay attention to those whom I love.” 

Shell shocked. You are shell shocked at Aaron’s speech, eyes wide and mouth open. You’re sure the rest of the team, hidden behind a bulletin board and the conference table is much the same. 

“I’m going to kiss you now. And that’s the end of the conversation about me not trusting you, okay?” You nod dumbly. Aaron’s lips are sweet and taste like his coffee—black, with two sugars. You feel another tear falling but it’s only because you hadn’t expected any of that. 

“That took long enough,” David says from behind the partition. 

and voila <3

[wonysugar]

close the door | hanni pham

synopsis : you had no idea what you were doing, and neither did she.

genre : fluffy smut!

pairing : non-idol!hanni x gf!femreader

tags : they’re in love your honor, lots of kissing and making out, cuddling, l-bombs, top!femreader, bottom!hanni, they’re both virgins, fingering, clit play, nipple play, neck kissing, hanni’s dogs are mentioned twice lawl, lots of comfort, lots of consent! they’re literally just lovey dovey girlfriends having sex for the first time aheheh

warnings : none :]

word count : 2.5k

a/n : if you’re rereading this and thinking “hey the synopsis changed and there wasn’t an author’s note before!!” well you’d be right I POSTED THIS IN A RUSH I’M SO SORRYYFKEJF

anyways!! this is just to say that this fic is inspired by the lovely writer that is sorry for tagging you twice ahh @facefullofsadness’s fic right over here :] sooo GO READ THAT FIRST! it’s truly lovely and i really enjoyed reading it, hence why i wrote thisskfke. thank you for readingg<33

oh how you loved your girlfriend.

you would die for your girlfriend, actually, even if you only started dating barely a few months ago. who could blame you? that’s what happens when you’ve been best friends prior to your relationship for so, so, so long. it simply started with a ‘hi! my name’s hanni! what’s yours?’ from her part at the innocent age of seven and just like that, years later, you guys were still inseparable. 

so really, your life-long friendship and months-long relationship were both with the same gorgeous and outgoing girl, and the only thing distinguishing those two was the label you used to describe them.

“bro i genuinely don’t understand why he doesn’t just… run away. cause— get this, there’s obviously a murderer in his house right? and what does he decide to do about that? just stay in there. like, okay.. like i’m aware they needed plot but lord, i don’t know at least make it somewhat realistic you know what i mean—“ was what your girlfriend said, on her bed as she sat down in between your legs and leaned her back against you, her head facing forward and resting on your shoulder.

you simply nodded along to her words as you played with her hair, trying your hardest to stay focused on the piece of media before you whilst also paying your utmost attention to her, despite her constant ranting and criticizing of the entire movie. you, having originally liked the film, were now conflicted about your opinion on it. it’s not like she was wrong, her very heavy criticism had to have come from somewhere, after all, but you couldn’t help but slightly appreciate the storyline. so, you weren’t really sure what you felt about it anymore.

one thing you were certain of, however, 

was that your girlfriend looked really good while passionately rambling. like, way too good. she had tied her dark hair into a high ponytail, it also looked wavy due to the rain that was pouring on you guys earlier, her messy bangs fell perfectly onto her forehead. and her smile? it always looked perfect. she always looked perfect. 

and since you apparently weren’t hiding your admiration well enough, she very quickly noticed it.

she giggled teasingly. her voice sweet like honey, her australian accent more prominent than usual, she spoke up, “hello?” before full-on laughing, “were you even listening to me?”

you could only kiss her, that seemed like the only appropriate response in the heat of the moment. she, of course, kissed back just as lovingly before pulling away moments after, a curious and confused look on her face. 

“no seriously, what is up with you?” she kept teasing, smiling stupidly as she kept her gaze lingering on yours for the following seconds, her eyes unconsciously drifting to your lips. “you look stupid.”

“and you look really pretty.” was what you whispered back to her, earning a shy smile and an exaggerated eye roll from her. immediately, you made your lips come into contact with hers again. it felt as if the world would stop spinning if you didn’t, like a slowly growing urge to keep touching her suddenly came over you and you needed to fill it.

“so.. so pretty.” you mumbled, so quietly that it was almost to yourself, before going back in. you allowed yourself to make the kiss deeper and slid her tongue across her soft lips as you demanded entrance. you could hear her let out slight noises, she clearly was not expecting you to do anything of the sorts, at least not right now. she was a tad bit confused, but let you in, who in their right mind would pass up the opportunity to kiss their girlfriend? immediately, your hands wrapped around her waist whilst you continued kissing her lovingly, your tongue roaming every part of her mouth.

it didn’t take long before your hands started naturally reaching under her top, caressing on her tummy and progressively going higher with each sound she let out.

you pulled away, slightly worried of going too far, “c-can.. can i continue, hanni?”

you were scared, terrified, even! despite knowing each other for years, you’d only been dating for a few months; those are two completely different things! it’s not like you see your completely platonic best friend’s naked body every tuesday. even then, despite dating, you still haven’t gotten that stage of the relationship. and on top of that,

the two of you were a proper pair of virgins. you had no idea what you were doing, and neither did she. you didn’t want to seem like an inexperienced loser to her, you wanted to take care of her and make her feel good. what if that didn’t happen? what if you made it awkward between the two of you?? it was nerve-racking.

as if barging into your mind and reading your thoughts, wanting to reassure you, she grabbed your hand in a gentle manner before nodding. then, she spoke up, “can you close the door?”

“there’s.. nobody home, though?”

she giggled, “oh i know, it’s just that i don’t want the dogs to potentially walk in on this.”

you groaned dramatically, laughing and insisting that you were too lazy to get up and that her dogs wouldn’t understand the situation if they even walked in. she, in response, just tapped your knee with a cheeky smile, encouraging you to stand up.

“come on y/n, close the door. think about milly and mia; think about their innocence!” she exaggerated.

after playfully hitting her arm and laughing along with her, you got up, proceeded to close and lock the door like she asked you to and eventually walked back to her bed, sitting back on it and positioning yourself the way you originally were, her back to you again. 

“happy?” you asked in a fake arrogant tone.

she hummed, radiant, “yes, very happy.” before turning her head just right and kissing you again.

eventually back to the original rhythm of the kiss, you placed your hands back on her stomach again, slowly caressing and teasing higher and higher with time. once you reached her bra, you proceeded to impatiently unhook it, immediately taking it off of her.

her breathing got heavier with each second that passed, partially due to nervousness, probably. you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t the case for you too. the more your hands carefully roamed her body, the more self-conscious you got, you truly had no idea what you were doing. 

then, as if something in your mind clicked, you had an idea. what if you just did to her whatever you enjoyed doing to yourself in moments like these? that could work.. right? maybe??

you glided your hand upwards, your finger lightly grazing her nipple. in response to the sudden movement, a lewd sound accidentally escaped from her pretty lips, her breath hitching. that sound was a small moan.

a small one, barely audible, yet it was still enough for you to feel the activation of every single neuron residing in your brain.

then suddenly, it’s like the concept of making love to her wasn’t as nerve-racking as it originally was.

“s-sorry..” she apologized, seeming slightly embarrassed.

you kissed her cheek, reassuring her, “don’t apologize, i wanna hear you.”

despite it being an accident, she seemed to enjoy the sensation of your hand on her chest, so you went back to teasing her tits and gently groping them before you eventually asked, “is it okay if i go further..?”

nodding in a keen manner, she swallowed her saliva, then breathed out her response, “yes. yes keep— keep going. please.”

well shit! even if you wanted to stop, it’s not like you could, not with how good she sounded pleading for you.

not wasting any more time, you proceeded to separate one of your hands from her chest and quickly slid it downwards; to the band of her sweatpants. now, of course, your other hand was still in its original place, working its magic, but you wanted her to feel more. so much more.

you wanted to convey every surge of affection you violently felt for her into pleasure. and, if there was one thing you surely knew how to do, it was kissing her. 

so, you started kissing on her neck, which she didn’t expect whatsoever, and still heavily concentrated on the hand you had on her breast. then, you pulled on the sleeve of her tee just enough to expose her shoulder and moved your mouth towards it, nipping and gently licking it.

your hand now fully slipped into her pants, you teased her entrance through the fabric of her underwear as you kept kissing her naked shoulder. you listened to her attentively and took mental notes of her reactions; so far, her breathing got heavier, her thighs slightly clenched around your hand and she was now frequently biting her lip. 

plus, her panties were wet. 

did all of that mean you were doing good? …perhaps it did!

and did her drenched underwear make you short circuit? perhaps it did as well!

“d-d’you feel okay?” you asked, before going back to slowly kissing her shoulder. she threw you a quick glance, chest heaving up and down. 

“s-so okay.” she giggled.

her smile being contagious, you found yourself doing the exact same thing, content with the answer she gave you.

soon enough, you traced your finger up her clothed slit before eventually sliding it into the undergarment she wore, making her shudder. after what felt like an eternity, you could feel her slick coat your digits from one swipe of the finger. 

it was tantalizing.

growing impatient, you quickly yet carefully settled your middle and ring finger on her swollen clit, making slow circular motions on it, looking at her in the process. full on whimpering, this time, she stared back at you, no longer embarrassed. she wanted to let you know how good you were making her feel, hence why she was getting louder with each movement you made, and it filled you with enough confidence and adrenaline to gently push her head towards you, leaning in for a kiss.

thankfully, she kissed you back, deeply at that, her eyes closed and her quiet moans muffled.

you pulled away after a few moments, “tell me if it hurts, okay?” you reminded her. she simply nodded, brain all fuzzy from arousal.

she grabbed your other hand and intertwined her fingers with yours. “g-go slowly.” she whispered.

“i will.” you affirmed.

slowly and gently, you slid your fingers into her core, making sure not to go too fast or too rough. thankfully, the wetness was making it easier for you, and probably for her as well. every time that your girlfriend’s breath hitched, that her hand gripped harder on yours or, hell, every time that her eyes closed, you stopped in your tracks and double checked to see if you were hurting her, so it took a little while for your digits to fully penetrate her. 

fortunately, she assured you that you weren’t, in fact, hurting her. some moments just felt more comfortable than others, is all.

once they were fully in, you gave her time to get used to the feeling, still double checking on her state every now and then. after a few deep breaths, she nodded.

“i-i’m ready.”

you started to pump your fingers in and out of her, taking in all of her as your speed slowly increased as time went on. naturally, as more time passed, you felt the urge to make her feel good get even stronger.

that’s when you decided to increase the pace, your fingers curling on just the right spot inside her, pumping faster and faster as your thumb played with her clit.

“is this okay baby—” you asked.

“f-fuck— yes y/n that feels good—“ was what she moaned out, cutting you off. a feeling of bliss progressively and clearly overtaking her whole body.

when you tried to look at her despite only being able to see her side profile, you could’ve sworn you saw an angel. her cheeks were slightly tinted with a pinkish color and her eyebrows were upturned, her whole face contorted with pleasure, her skin glistening with sweat. her eyes hooded with lust, hanni looked down at herself and attentively watched as you played with her. your fingers swimming in her slick, navigating in her folds the way a skilled sailor would the vast ocean, it was hypnotizing, and she realized how this was probably the way you got yourself off on a regular day, and she couldn’t help but moan at both the thought and the sensation. 

you made her feel good, you made her feel happy, loved. you always did.

amidst the chaos that was her messy bed, the setting somehow looked better than every piece of artwork you’d ever seen combined. the bed creaked ever so slightly, and she looked and sounded so beautiful, especially with the way the sun set directly on her parted lips at that moment. 

you were certain that your heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“i love you so much, hanni.” you softly said, kissing the back of her ear whilst you kept fingering her. she couldn’t form proper words, so she simply tightened her grip on your hand more, as a way to say it back.

then, once you picked up a stable pace for a few minutes, her back arched against you, her breathing getting heavier, practically panting. her hand’s grip on yours getting tighter, you felt her hot breath hit your neck once she settled her head into the crook of it.

“y/n— baby i think i’m- i’m— mmh—“

that was the moment she reached climax, letting out a long and loud moan as she rode out her orgasm, bucking her hips against your hand before smashing her lips onto yours. quietly, she let a few i love yous slip out of her mouth between kisses, her hand resting on your head, fingers intertwined with your soft hair. 

you particularly made sure to say it back to her every time.

you pulled out your fingers and took your hand out of her pants. still coming down from her high, she smiled at you with tired eyes and kissed your cheek. you smiled back, looking at her lovingly.

“d-did i do okay?” 

she giggled, “..are you seriously asking me that? do you not see me right now?” 

you raised your eyebrows, playful, “for all i know you were faking it.”

“yeah, actually.. i was faking it, especially with how wet i was from the whole thing. aren’t i such a good actor y/n? it’s almost like i legitimately came really hard—”

“shut up.” you elbowed her, laughing. she gave you a cheeky smile before she got up from the bed, grabbed a pair of new underwear from her drawer and opened the bedroom door, heading straight towards the living room to pet her dogs after changing. 

“hey y/n?”

“hm?”

“…wanna bake brownies in a bit?” 

“uhm.. yes? what kind of question is that?? let me just go wash my hands first.” you replied, getting up and walking towards the bathroom before adding on, “unless you wanna eat very unsanitary cum-buttered brownies, of course—“

you heard her contagious laugh from across the hallway, making you smile to yourself, “you’re fucking disgusting— go wash your hands, you weirdo!”

oh how you loved your girlfriend.

[iznsfw]

Still remember me?

On this day three years ago, I wrote and posted my first ever fic on Tumblr.

Since then, I've improved (I'm proud to say that), took breaks, met beautiful people, and most importantly: I had fun. Although it's just brainrot I was writing, I found joy in it and the people here <3

Things haven't been easy ever since my mother died and I got effectively admitted to a ward—I thought I should be honest with you guys. I'll be spending my birthday in a few days still in a facility where it gets too lonely at times. But I've only found so many things to be thankful for.

I'm grateful. Readers, writers, hate asks lol. I thought I should mention some people who've made my stay here happy, which of course is not an exclusive or ordered list:

@prael , thank you for always understanding and helping me out. When I was panicking and trying not to cry, you were the one who reached out. Saw your Kinktember and it was aaaawesome!! How are you so good?!? Thank you so much for being a good friend, a great writer, and a sweet guy overall. I owe you a lot, I love you!

@sinswithpleasure, thank you for being so sweet, so kind, and so precious. You're so easy to talk to and I love you more than you know.

@firagaarmor, my fellow Gaeul ult 👀 I always love how wise you are with your words. Thank you for giving me advice, offering new perspectives, and supporting me. I love you!

Kaede <3: not here on Tumblr, I think. But I thought you should know your welcoming words and overall cuteness helped bring me out of my shell. I love you, I love you, I love you! Please keep being my friend.

@friskyriskywhisky — your detailed and sweet feedback message was one of the last things I read before getting admitted. It's always in my thoughts and motivate me to get better. I love you and your asks and your creativity. Basically, I love everything about you!

@majorblinks, understand me sooo well. You're adorable and one of my inspirations. My twin, my bestie, and fellow Sophia stan, I love you!

@capslocked, the first thing I did after being given phone access was reread your fics. They're as good as I remember them. Thank you for giving honest feedback, being kind to me, and just getting me going. Love you!

And of course, to everyone! Everyone on Tumblr, everyone on Discord, everyone who's everything to me <3 Love you and thank you.

I'm sorry for going silent and leaving you in the dark. I'm just asking for a little more time. I'm getting healthier and trying harder. I've got some releases in the drafts and stuff I'm working on. I'll come back, but I hope you wait for me. You don't have to, but it's always nice to see you and know you're there <3

Mwah mwah chup chup! Mahal ko kayo, and I'm always thankful :')

[eetherealgoddess]

Hellooo! I keep on rereading all your male reader × bonten fics. It's so good. Can you please make another where the male reader is a straight alpha hybrid that is owned by bonten, but against his will? Like, he doesn't like them or the way they touch him because he doesn't like guys. So one day, Mikey was going to the reader's room to cuddle him or baby him, but he was met by moaning and whimpering which made mikey feel giddy but when he went to the room and found out that the reader was masturbating over a pornstar girl he gets mad, like MAD. He'll grab the phone and angrily ask, "what's this?" To which the reader replies, "you know I'm not gay, master." and he calls all the bonten members to punish him. 🥰

i wrote this a little different than you requested but i hope you enjoy it anyway! <3

ꨄBitchedꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Hybrid Au

❦You're a wolf hybrid who's forced to be Bonten's pet❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread!

Japanese language is red

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture him as a black male but you can see him however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Bitched

“Say please, Master.”

How did you, a hybrid wolf, who used to be an alpha to a pack get in a situation like this?

“Please, Master.” Your face warmed as you kneeled in front of the man, the palm of your hands placed on the floor as you looked up at one of your ‘owners.’ It was demeaning. Downright humiliating to be in such a situation as this. Especially when you’ve only been a leader all of your life.

The man standing above you bent over with his hands placed on his knees as he became eye level with you. His eyelids were heavy - lidded as he gazed into your irises. His bangs hung over his eyes as the purple mane fell over his shoulders. The logo on his neck prominent in your peripheral as you made eye contact.

“Something wrong, puppy?” The criminal frowned as he gave you a bored look, indicating his annoyance at your behavior. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as a rush of anxiety caused you to immediately act.

With your ears perked up and tail wagging, you straighten your posture as a wide grin forcefully grows on your face.

“Please, Master!” Your tongue hangs out as you lightly pant, aiming to be as enthusiastic as possible. Despite your actions, you are deeply ashamed of yourself. You feel like such a coward, obeying and bowing down to a group of men who have power over you. You were forced to submit, your pack having been slaughtered caused you to become a lone wolf.

It was by chance you were caught up in the middle of a deal gone wrong, bullets flying everywhere while you hid in the alleyway. The whole area was surrounded with men in suits. When you tried to escape, you were caught by the scariest short man you have ever seen. You tried to fight, only to be knocked out immediately by a sudden kick you hadn’t expected.

You miss your pack. Nothing is the same. You miss your pack Luna as well, the woman you were married to. You helped each other through your rutts and heat. The first rutt you experienced in captivity was horrible. A few of the Bonten members were ‘experimenting’ with your body, touching and poking at spots you had never even noticed. The stimulation forced you into a rutt, resulting in the need to breed.

The platinum haired male who had kicked you originally covered your erection with lube before he lowered himself to engulf your throbbing cock. You had never been attracted to males in your life, hybrid or not. Although it was enough for you to release your seed over and over, you weren’t in your right mind. Post nut clarity hit like a bitch and it forced you into a depression that still affects you.

The following rutts grew worse, some of the men bending you over like a bitch in heat. Your masculinity and ego were torn to shreds. You had to escape, you needed to leave. So you did, until you were found.

“Good boy!” Rin pats your head before placing the treat on your tongue. “Your Japanese has improved.” He smirked before grabbing the leash that hangs from your collar, forcing you to crawl along as you enter the office where some of the other executives sit.

You swallow the residue crumbs of the treat as you look down, the bruise on your knees growing the longer they are connected to the floor. You ignore the pain as you sit criss crossed, next to the feet that are crossed once Rin sits in his seat.

“Come ere’, puppy.” The older Haitani who sits next to his brother commands while patting his lap. He smiles down at you while you hold back the urge to slice his throat with your claws. You hate that they call you demeaning pet names. You’re no damn puppy. Despite your feelings, you comply, not wanting to experience the baton again.

You keep your gaze down as you refrain from eye contact with any of the men who snicker as you crawl onto Ran’s lap, your bottom connecting as his arms circled around your waist from behind. His chin rests on your shoulder as he listens to the short man.

Mikey proceeds to talk about the mission everyone is needed for, ordering them on what they should do as well as giving some information about their assignments. You could only make out some of the words that you’ve been taught, zoning out as you lose focus on the situation at hand.

“Y/n.” Your ears perk up to your name as you eye the boss.

“I expect you to be on your best behavior while we’re gone.” You knew that was a threat more than anything, though the excitement for a break without all of them being around you was more distracting than the warning.

“Yes, Master.”

It’s been a couple hours since your owners left and you’ve been searching for anything to help aid your escape. Unfortunately, security surrounds the outside area so you couldn’t leave but if only you could find something, anything.

You sigh in frustration as you slam the papers down, having snuck in Kokonoi’s room where he keeps some of the paperwork in his desk area, having already checked the office. You didn’t really know what to look for but you weren’t finding anything anyway. Thoughts of your wife and pack appear as you become saddened, tears prick your eyes before you groan, your head lying in your hands as the elbows are plastered to the desk.

You eye the laptop in front of you, staring at your reflection as memories of your wife fill your mind. You were so desperate for intimacy, ideas began to flood as you looked down in thought. You missed holding her, cooking with her, making pack rules and implementing them with her, watching her take care of the pack’s youth. You miss her nurturing nature. You slam your fist on the desk as you growl.

You need her. You need her touch. You need her care. You need her to be there with you. For the first time in your life, you felt as though someone needed to save you. You miss hearing her voice, her moans and cries of pleasure. Feeling a twitch below you bite your lip. The last time you had sex with a woman was when you originally escaped.

You were so depressed that instead of finding shelter, food, or income you went to a nightclub and boozed up. You remember the lounge area like it was yesterday.

“Fuck!” You hiss as you thrust into the human woman. The couch trembles under your weight as you rock your hips into her missionary style. She moans as her arms wrap around your neck, pulling your head to her shoulder as her nails dig into your skin.

Considering the lack of a sober mind, it was easy to imagine her as your wife which made you more passionate with your endeavor. You pull back before grabbing her face and smashing your lips to hers, slightly gripping her ears as your cock rubs along her inner walls. Her pussy sucked you in tightly as she bucked her hips against you, meeting the hard thrusts as your pace accelerated.

She kissed back eagerly though the slip of tongue reminded you that she is not who you needed though the person will have to do it. You couldn’t bother to feel guilty as the alcohol takes over your train of thought, this being your only way to gain control of your masculinity once more. As toxic as it was, you were just so desperate. You pull back as you hold the back of her legs up, thrusting before both of you moaned loudly, orgasming as your cum shoots deep inside of her.

Just as you finished, a loud shot rang out right before blood splatters on your front, covering your face. You froze, hands wide open as her legs dropped, eyeing the chunks of human flesh and blood that covered the seat above her neck. Any sign of there being a normal head or face gone as your body trembles seeing the pieces of brain scattered. Blood begins to puddle on the floor as you move back, pulling up your pants and falling off of the seat.

“So you escaped to fuck a random bitch?” Sanzu tsked before walking towards you, gun still in hand. His pink hair sways as he crouches down until he is eye level with you. The scars near his mouth stretch as a toothy smile grows on his face. You tense, ears flat as he brings the end of the gun to your head, tapping gently with each word.

“All ya had to do was let us know you were horny.” He chuckled before pulling the gun back and grin dropping. “Instead, you behaved like a traitor.”

Another presence came behind him as the taller male leaned forward, golden orbs meeting your eyes with disappointment.

“You even lost your collar, Y/n. What a bad boy.” Kazutora shakes his head before snatching the collar of your shirt, forcing you to stand up.

You shiver at the memory of what happened the night you were caught with a woman. They were not happy. The punishment was tortuous and you didn’t think you would survive. Rethinking your idea, you tsked before searching the web, typing on the keyboard of the laptop.

“It’s just porn.” You whisper to yourself. They’d be gone for a while anyway.

Clicking the chosen video, the screen displayed the logo and theme music of the site before playing the actual video. You had chosen a short video so it didn’t take long for you to remove the erection out of your pants and spit in your hand. Slick leaked from your head as you wrapped your fingers around the girth. You begin to slide up and down slowly as the woman on the screen bent over on all fours, the camera showing the angle from the side as the man entered into her. They both moan as you accelerate the motion of your hand.

Desperate you shut your eyes as you listened to her moans, imagining your wife as your grip tightened around your cock, sliding up and down at a steadied speed as your hips slightly buck into your hand. You stop for a moment to rub your thumb along the tip as you place your other hand on the base before the hand holding your cock drops to the base.

You moan as your head falls back, eyes squint as you watch the screen, the couple becoming faster and slightly sloppier with their movements as they desperately move against one another. You buck a little harder against your hand as you slide faster, building the pit in your stomach. Before you release, the grip on the back of the chair causes you to jolt, cum shooting on your own torso as you pant, a grunt escaping.

“What’s this?” You eye the man next to you, his dark orbs boring into the screen before turning his attention to you. You were shaken up, not having expected anyone to be in the building besides the guards.

“P-porn, Master.” His eyes narrow down at you before he straightens his posture, moving to the exit. He paused before taking his leave.

“Strip, Y/n.” Your hands trembled as you hesitate, turning back to look at the dark glare coming your way. Not wanting to test his patience, you comply, tossing your clothes to the floor.

“Crawl.” You lower your body to the ground, tail between your legs with your ears flat against your head. You wanted to cower. You knew this wouldn’t end well.

“Come.” You follow him out of Kokonoi’s room to the bedroom in which you stay when nobody needs your service in their bedroom. Your limp cock hangs under you as you bite your lip in embarrassment. You will never get used to this treatment.

Mikey points to the bed once you reach the center of the room. Some of the executives enter just as you climb on the bed. You sit with your legs hanging off the bed, hands on your lap as you eye them.

“Sanzu.” He states. Said man already understood the assignment, walking towards you before reaching in his pocket and snatching a small bag with a pill in it.

“Open.” He demands, your eyebrows furrowing as you eye the pink pill. Your fingers fidget against your lap as you contemplate what they could be giving you. You jolted before whimpering in pain once he used his free hand to twist your nipple.

“Don’t make me say it again, Y/n.” Your lips fell apart before he placed the substance on your tongue. It dissolves as soon as your saliva touches it.

“This will be a part of your training since you haven’t learned your lesson.” Mikey states, watching as the medicine takes effect.

You begin to feel a heat rising just as a sharp pain shoots through your abdomen. Moisture forms out of your ass and cock as it grows, an ungodly amount of slick beginning to ooze out all at once. Your fingers meet the blanket as your claws pierce through in agony and an overwhelming sense of need.

You couldn’t believe what you were feeling. You’ve never felt anything like this before. All you know is that there’s this yearning to be stretched, full and bred. Similar to how your wife would get during her heat. It was as if you were turning into an omega in heat. Your back drops to the bed as your arms circle around your stomach, repositioning yourself into a fetal position.

“You will learn who you belong to.” Mikey crouched to where his face is in front of yours, watching as the tears stream down your face while a painful tightness forms in your cock.

“You will learn your place.” Rin moved your lower body to place the cock ring around your girth as well as your testicles, drawing a pained groan to escape your mouth.

“Look at you… you were never meant to be an alpha.” You whimper as you feel a pressure behind you against your backside. You attempt to sway your arm to fight back, only to be pinned with your stomach against the bed. The firm wet surface replaced itself back against your anus.

“You’re my bitch.” Mikey hissed just as the toy was shoved into your ass, leaving you no room to adjust as it was pushed all the way to the base. You cry out as it stretches your ass, cock leaking against the bed as you whimper from the pain.

“O-oh… shit!” The toy began to buzz as it stuck deep inside your ass. Tears streamed heavily down your face as the feeling in your stomach grew. Your anal walls tightened around the thick rubber as you looked slightly back to see what was buzzing inside of you.

Kazutora holds your tail up as his hand blocks the toy from slipping out, a smile on his face as you make eye contact through your tears.

“Doesn’t that feel good? Dirty boy.” He teased, pushing against the toy that’s already pressed hard against your prostate.

“Ah…” You breathe out, eyebrows furrowed as your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

“This is who you are.” Mikey says softly, gazing at your heated face and sweat that formed. He uses a hand to caress your head in between your ears.

Your hips move against the bed, aiding in a pressure against your cock as you seek a release. The cock rings are so tight around you. You could barely think properly.

“How filthy. You’re such a desperate little omega aren’t you?” Ran whispers in your ear on the other side of you. You shake your head.

“N-no… I-I’m an alp…!” A harsh smack on your ass caused you to yelp.

“Bad omega. Accept your alphas.” Rin rubbed along the bruise forming from his sharp slap.

The pill that induced a heat from you is making everything more confusing than it needs to be. Their words aren’t helping and it was frustrating. You desperately needed air but the twitching from your cock and stimulation from your ass says otherwise.

“Do you even deserve to cum, puppy?” Sanzu questioned you as he caressed your back.

You gasp in surprise as you’re forced on your back, the buzzing rubber still inside you.

“Awe, look at how swollen you are.” Ran says before gently wrapping his hand around your cock, thumb barely grazing over the tip as your hips buck.

“P-please…” Everything feels so overwhelming, you just wanted to release so you could run away.

“Please what?” You didn’t want to say it. You didn’t want to comply and give in, but did you really have a choice?

“Please, Master.”

“Still don’t know whatcha want.” Ran smirked just as Kazutora pulled the vibrator to the edge of your entrance, drawing a cry out of you. A hand forced you to look to the side.

“Tell me what you want.” Mikey demands, expression stoic though with an intense gaze.

“I-I want to cum, please Master.”

You officially hate yourself.

The tall man lowered his head before lightly gliding his tongue across the head of your throbbing cock. You grunt as Ran’s lips circle around the tip before lowering down your shaft. You thrust once you hit the back of his throat.

“A-ah!” Lips crash against yours as Mikey pulls you in for a deep kiss. Sanzu unhooks your collar before wrapping a hand around your throat, leaning in to nibble your ear.

Kazutora shoves the cock back inside of you, pressing it against your prostate once more as Rin leaves a hickey on your thigh. Just as you near your orgasm, they all pull back at once, leaving your ass empty and cock unattended as well as the rest of your skin.

“He doesn’t deserve to cum.”

“Bad omegas shouldn’t get to release during their heat.”

“Dirty boys should work for their orgasm.”

You cry out as a thick cock shoves itself all the way inside your ass, immediately slamming against your prostate.

Blonde and black hair drapes over you as Kazutora grinds his hips against you, holding your legs up as he pulls back before bucking into you again. You moan out like an omega who’s been stretched by an alpha for the first time.

“Look at how he’s taking it.”

“Such a slutty omega.”

“All those tears for what? You love this shit.”

“Dirty boy.”

Their words were just as overwhelming as the cock hitting your prostate, sliding in and out of your anal walls as it stretched you full. Your cock twitched as Kazutora grabbed your girth, squeezing slightly before rubbing with the thrusts.

“You better not cum.” Mikey said to you from the side.

“Only good omegas deserve to nut.” Sanzu hissed in your other ear.

“Ah, shit.” Kazutora whispers as his head falls back, releasing your cock before putting your legs over his shoulders and leaning over, gaining better access as he grinds against you.

“F-fuck yeah, baby.” His mouth hangs open as he thoroughly thrusts into you for his own pleasure, not bothering to hold back as he nears his release.

“He’s taking it like a whore.” Rin smirked as he watched your face morph in pleasure, the substance completely clouding your mind as you took Kazutora’s thrusts.

“Of course he is. He was made for this.” Ran states as Kazutora reaches his release with a loud groan, grinding out his orgasm as you desperately buck against him for your own, though nothing comes out which causes another intense pain in your abdomen.

Pulling out, slick fell once more. You release a pained cry as they all step back.

“Please…” You cry.

“Take this as a lesson, Y/n.” Mikey says as the executives begin to walk out of the room, chuckling about your suffering as Mikey turns to look at you once more before taking his leave.

“You’re always going to be my bitch.”

[incarnadin3]

How Obey Me Brothers realized they were in love with MC: Part One, Lucifer

A/N: This idea was in my brain for a while so I decided why not write it? Also, am I the only one who writes well in their head but struggles to write it on paper??? Like wtf should I yap on here.

Lucifer: The Mighty Firstborn

Since Lucifer was the first born, all the major responsibilities were naturally given to him. From paying bills, and managing Mammon's spending, to ensuring the House of Lamentation was running properly, it was quite a lot for the Avatar of Pride.

But his pride refused to let him show weakness, instead working himself overtime to stay on top of things, which often led to him burning himself out, like today.

Mammon had somehow managed to steal Lord Diavolo's card and spent a hefty amount on gambling. While the Prince seemed unfazed, perhaps even a bit amused by the ordeal, Lucifer had been livid.

After lecturing and tying him up to the ceiling as usual, he had been working through a stack of papers, ranging from letters from angry witches demanding their money back from Mammon, to debts that had to be payed because of his greedy brother.

As the moon rose higher in the sky, the stack of papers did not seem to lower, towering over him, waiting to be reviewed.

Even though it didn't outwardly appear that Lucifer loved his brothers, at heart, he really truly did.

Which was currently the reason why he had Mammon's homework in front of him, one of the many he had forgotten to do in his haste to go gambling.

Lucifer sighed, scribbling in the answers, wrinkling his nose ever so slightly at the messy handwriting. Mammon wasn't one to have good handwriting, and if Lucifer wanted to pretend that Mammon was the one who wrote in th answers, he had to copy his handwriting.

As soon as he wrote the last few words, his pen instantly slipped from his fingers, and his head dropped forward onto his desk, and he was knocked out cold.

The next day, as he discreetly slid the homework papers into Mammon's bag before the teacher began to collect them, he realized that in his haste to do Mammon's homework, he had forgotten to do his. Him, Lucifer, Avatar of Pride, the Mighty Firstborn, the one who never missed a single assignment, was about to get berated for not doing his homework.

He tensed up as the Teacher approached, nodding approvingly as she took Mammon's homework, then held out her hand expectantly at Lucifer, wait for him to hand in his homework.

"𝘐…𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬…."

"𝘌𝘹-𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘦?"the teacher stammered, staring at him as if he head sprouted two heads.

He merely sighed, his head dropping as he heard Mammon snicker in the background. Suddenly he heard another voice intervene.

"Teacher! Lucifer did do his homework! I accidentally took it thinking it was mine!"

Lucifer just stared in surprise, confusion, and shock as you gave an embarrassed smile, holding out the homework, his name written across the top. He watched as the teacher glared and lectured you on not stealing other's homework and passing it off as their own, even if it was by mistake.

As the class continued, he could barely focus, as he noticed you place a comforting hand on his thigh, occasionally squeezing it in comfort as they continued their lesson. As he finally began writing his notes in for the class, a small note suddenly got slipped into his hands.

We all appreciate your efforts, especially your brothers. You are truly amazing for doing what you did. We love you -MC

Lucifer couldn't help but blush slightly, a few tears at the corners of his eyes, as he reread each kind word.

He looked sideways at MC, who was ever so focused on their notes, thoughtfully chewing their bottom lip as the worked. It was at this moment that he realized that he truly loved you, and would be willing to kill for them.

After Lilith's death, it was as if no one wanted to appreciate his efforts. True, his sin made it harder to express himself, but his brothers refused to even try to understand him or appreciate why he did what he did. But today, seeing you go out of your way to appreciate him, made him realize that maybe, just maybe, there was some happiness in store for him.

[jinnie-ret]

FIC RECS

Ok so someone in my asks box asked me for some fic recommendations and I tried to add some gradually but my asks have been so weird recently so I've had to make a new post for them!

First of all ty anonnie you words were really sweet, I hope you stay healthy too!

Also just to preface I will list sfw and nsfw recs so pls if you are a minor, do not explore the nsfw recommendations, these blogs will most likely have a mdni statement so pls respect that and don't go against that :)

Now, enjoy!

SFW

Enough for you - @mixtape-racha (poly ot8 angst comfort)

We love an angst comfort fic and this is one of my faves. Take caution reading this one and read the content warnings at the top just in case! But this one is simply amazing and I wish I wrote it the end.

The Field Trip - @dreamescapeswriting (Seungmin X reader)

Seungmin and reader are teachers in this and if you follow me you may have seen me reblog this one before bc I love it and want this, also this blog has so many imagines you will be fed for days

Warm blankets - @jiniret-writings (3 parts, hurt comfort poly ot8 x reader)

I felt so emotionally invested in this story when I read it, like I felt readers pain 😭 gorgeous

jack-in-the-box -@junicai (angst, ninth member reader)

Set in kingdom. We hate mnet. Skz are very protective and reader gets the comfort she deserves in the end, love this sm!

@hyunjinsbelovedamericano - lots of headcanons and reaction type fics on their MASTERLIST, give it a look!!

Simptober 2023 - @skz-streamer

Fluff for days!!! pookie rly worked hard on this one so go and show some love because you've got so much to read here

Skz text aus - @channiesbakery

These are so so funny I cannot cope. Also explore the other fluff posts too bc they're really cute!

More text aus - @diddybok

Same goes for this blog too, explore their other stuff!

@hannahhbahng has some rly cute fluffy reads on their masterlist

@hanjiquokkaaa check out their skz reactions! My pookie slays every time

Skz fluff fics - @wooahaes

So much fluff to pick from! I fall in love every time!

Warm milk and honey - @horanghoe (poly skz x reader)

One of my fav skz comfort fics of all time, it's so so good, recommending again bc I should

In his arms, unexpectedly yours - @cheesemonky (Hyunjin x reader series)

This is a new series which I'm excited to see my pookie write !!!

@astraysimp for dad skz!!!

Nicholas Ross - @dean-a-mean-tae (skz ninth member male oc)

Love their ninth member writings so definitely check it out if you're looking for male!oc who is the ninth!

In my past, I find you and in the future, I still have you - @yangbbokari (Chan x reader)

Heartbreaking, like so angsty but it's gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous

Princess treatment with SKZ - @j-oneproduces

Each individual member x reader has a drabble and I love it so so much, very accurate imo

@skzoologist read their imagines on their ninth member oc Bae! They also have a fic called unfamiliarity using the same oc :)

I like the view - @mirisss (hybrid ot8 skz X reader)

I rly need to reread this one because I loved what I read so far on it!!!

NSFW

Rabbit hybrid reader - @authorofdanger (hybrid skz x hybrid reader)

I've linked a masterlist, I'd recommend the fic dominance and then the first few fics which are to do with reader as a rabbit hybrid! slight warning that woojin is mentioned

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Red Moon - @lixiepeach (omegaverse series)

this is one of the first skz omegaverse fics I read and it is done so beautifully, as it says in the description of the series, it deals with more adult content than just smut, and the way it is explored is written so well, couldn't recommend highly enough!

Inked Petals and Message Tones - @leviackermanscleaningbuddy (poly smau with real life)

this is an ao3 skz fic which changed my life. I can't explain how much I love this, it had me on an emotional rollercoaster fr fr like it's amazing!

n.h.i.e mini series - @hyungszn (smut ot8 x reader)

damn this one really has me on my toes like the chapters are chefs kiss and it's such a good read!

Bold - @hyunsvngs (American footballer minsung x reader)

Wow wow wee wow. This one made my brain go brrr and evaporate and melt and wow the storyline in it is so so good too. Juno rly has such a good relationship with anonnies and moots and it's so lovely to see. A jupiter stan right here!!

Sanguis Limerence - @jl-micasea-fics (vampire skz x reader)

This is one of the first series I was fully committed to reading on this all and constantly checking. It's insanely amazing, I can't put it into words and now I wanna read it all back again 😭

waiting for us - @kkami-writes (smau poly ot8 X reader)

I'm in love with this!!! Perhaps my fav skz smau like the character development as well is really nice to see and it's an easy read if you find it easier to read it in text messages form

Anger management - @2chopsticks2eyes (minsung x reader)

This is so hot and the way the storyline progresses as well is beautiful

@1-800-shedevil I'm in awe of her and her blog. Gorgeous writer, gorgeous writing. Her posts about body positivity rly are so helpful and her words are so comforting

Sharing = caring - @cbini (ot8 X reader)

This is unbelievably good and if you haven't seen it yet? Do you even Tumblr? Love how ems has such a good relationship with moots and in answering asks too! cbinian for life

Better than revenge - @lixie-phoria (smau Jeongin x reader)

I'm so obsessed with this series so far, putting it here bc there's smut to be added in the future. But I'm in love with it so far wow!!!

[frenziedfireworks]

Summer Break

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary : You visit your best friends over Summer break.. Little did you expect, George figured out your secret.

A/N : I've been rereading the books and have brainrot. I wrote this a few nights ago and didn't fully proofread it !! (If there are mistakes.. no there isn't ;^> )

You had been staying in the Burrow for Summer break. Being best friends with the twins meant you were accustomed to spending the holidays with them. As Fred had put it, “If you don’t come it’ll break mums heart.” Although you didn’t think Molly minded that much, you did want to spend some more time with them. Much to your dismay though, George had found out about your little crush on his brother.

The weather was scorching as you and George degnomed the garden. Molly had said something about the fireworks being too much and that the three of you had to clean. Fred was sent off to do the front yard and left you with his dear brother. 

“You’ve been staring at Freddie an awful lot. Wouldn’t be falling for the less-handsome twin, would you?” George’s elbow knocked into you, watching as you got nervous.

“I-I have not. Shut it!” You smacked the boy in return and his eyes widened. 

“I was only joking but now I think I struck a nerve. Do you actually like Fred?” 

You could only sigh. You knew it was only a matter of time before someone noticed but you had hoped it wouldn’t be George. 

“Not a word George. Not a single word.” You glared at the boy as you chucked a gnome far away. George whistled as the two of you watched it drop.

“I don’t know Y/N.. What’s in it for me?” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, sly smirk only growing with your agitation.

“You’re as bad as Peeves. Don’t tell him and I won’t kill you, alright? I know where you sleep.” You snorted as George mocked being stabbed.

“Bad as Peeves. That’s a new one. Fine, I won’t say anything.” The boy huffed and the two of you got back to cleaning.

—

Dinner had been served and everyone was chowing down. Fred had piled an enormous amount of food onto his plate, shooting you a wink as you rolled your eyes.

“You have enough there?” You raised an eyebrow and the boy hummed.

“Just enough. At least it’s not as much as Ron.” Fred motioned over to Ron who looked as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

Hermione scoffed at Ron.

“The two of you are as bad as eachother.” She glared at Fred, eliciting a laugh from the table.

Dinner went along swimmingly, George and Fred talking to you about jokes and such, an occasional chime in from Ginny or Hermione. It wasn’t until it was over that you got nervous.

You looked over, noticing George staring at Fred. They were both deep in thought, small smirks adorning their faces. Usually you wouldn’t be worried about any tricks or secrets but now that George had known yours.. Well you were scared.

They stood up at the same time and yanked you with them.

“Thanks for dinner mum!”

“Yeah it was so good!” 

The twins yelled their thanks as if that would distract everyone from them kidnapping you. You struggled for a second until you accepted it.

“What in the world are we doing?!” 

“Surprise.” Fred murmured, dragging you into their room.

You sat down on the bed as both of them circled their trunk, yanking out firecrackers. George shifted, eyes meeting yours. He winked at you before starting to cough.

“Fuck.” George sat down on his bed, holding his chest. You realized very quickly what he was trying to do. He was going to leave you alone with Fred. 

Fred eyed him, grabbing at the fireworks he was holding.

“You good mate?” 

George shook his head. 

“No. I think I’ve had something bad to eat.” He got up, darting out to the bathroom. Fred was left looking shocked.

“Well. Don’t reckon he’s gonna be joining us anytime soon.” Fred laughed and your heart sped up. You chuckled along, the anxiety eating you alive. 

“What are we doing then?” You questioned and he held his hand out.

“I thought we could go out past the hills. Y’know, where we practice quidditch. Wouldn’t want mum getting mad again.” 

“Fireworks?” You asked, placing your hand in his. His grin only grew bigger as the two of you set out.

“Right you are, dear. Ever so observant.” Fred teased, shoveling the rest of the fireworks into his pockets. 

—

The two of you made your way through the cold night, Fred’s incessant talking about his new candies filling the void.

Once you had reached the area Fred had automatically begun setting up. He dropped the blanket on the ground and sprawled the fireworks out in front of you.

“Since I’m such a nice guy I’ll let you choose. Go on, let’s see what we get.” Fred egged you on, eyes sparkling in excitement. You couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction and reached for the furthest left. 

“Mm. Good choice. You ready or do you need a moment?” You nodded your head for him to continue, your eyes wandering his body as he threw the flaming ball. 

“Silencio!” Fred bolted back onto the blanket, his head falling straight into your lap. You felt yourself grow more aware of how sweaty your hands were as they laid on his shoulders or the fact that your legs twitched a little too much. 

Thanks to Fred’s ingenious charm the firework went off without a sound, a red and orange hue lighting the sky. It was a normal firework for what seemed like a few seconds before it fizzled into little hearts. You cooed at the cute sentiment and felt yourself get more anxious. Had George known for longer than you expected? Maybe he had rigged the fireworks? Or maybe you were just overthinking.. 

“You’re thinking too much and not enjoying the show you know.” Fred poked at your jaw, a large smile on his face as he readjusted himself. You looked down at him and noticed how good he looked. The moonlight was lighting just enough so you could see his features, his big eyes fluttering shut with a sigh.

“The show? I saw the fireworks, you muppet.” You snorted and rolled your eyes. His grin grew even wider in his usual devious fashion.

“Well that was only the prelude of course. I am the main show.” Fred batted his eyelashes in a comical fashion, his hands circling his face. 

You let out a laugh. He would be the death of you.

“Oh really? That’s a damn shame.” You yawned sarcastically, fingers making their way through his ginger locks. Fred just hummed in response, body relaxing in your touch.

The two of you stayed like that for a while. No sounds, no distractions, just the two of you alone. You had to admit that you had never seen Fred so mellow. You thought of it as a good sign. That he trusted you enough to let his guard down. 

“It’s nice just being here with you. I’m glad George put on a show and ditched us.” Fred whispered. You looked down to see him already staring up at you. He cracked a small smile as his hand ghosted over your jawline. All the breath in your lungs left as he traced your skin. Sure, the two of you had been handsy before but all under the guise of being best friends. It had never felt this tense or so electrified.

“Yeah.” You mumbled out, taken with the way his rough fingers padded over you. You knew damn well that your skin was on fire and he could feel the slight tremble in your legs.

“I’m gonna do something, okay?” Fred propped himself up on an arm and leaned forward. His hand pulled you ever closer until his breath was fanning over your lips.

Fred’s nose nudged yours, lips finally meeting. It was an awkward angle for a few seconds before the two of you got the rhythm. His hand ran up your back and gripped at your shirt as if you would blow away. You grabbed at his shoulders, his empty arm pulling you into his lap. 

The two of you were about to deepen the kiss when another firework went off. This time, not so silent at all. 

Your shaken eyes met that of a figure further down the hill who was running back like a madman. Then you heard the voice.

“I’ve done it! I’ve done it! Just call me Cupid!” George danced a bit, motioning a finger gun to his brother who groaned.

“Oh please do invite me to the wedding! I expect to be the best man.” George yelled as he continued his trek back to the house. 

“Reckon Ronald will get that spot!” You chortled back and Fred collapsed in a pit of laughter.

“On my dead corpse Y/N!”

“Merlin’s beard, what am I going to do with you two.” Fred placed a delicate kiss to your cheek and pulled you into a hug.

You felt full and content being in his arms. You hadn’t expected the day to change so quickly but you were glad it did. Grabbing the side of Fred’s jaw you peppered a few light smooches.

“You’re stuck with me now, Weasley.”

“Wasn’t I already stuck with you before?” Fred nipped at your lip.

“Guess so..” You whispered to continue where the two of you had left off.

[ajortga]

i forgive you.

pairing: jenna ortega x fem reader

based off a request! i feel like when i write angst i don't feel my stomach stir when i reread mine, but i feel it when i read others. so i don't know if my angst just doesn't have that spark that i hope it did? do you guys feel it when you read this? 😭

hope that this met what you wanted!

-

i was thinking of an angst with jenna x femreader? it could be when jenna has been overworked, comes home with reader preparing her something bc she misses her terribly, jenna pouring out her anger into her?

ending is entirely up to you, bad or good, idm!! as always, take your time fav author💕

-

Music blasted through your headphones as you swept the floor, throwing pillows on top of the couch perfectly. 

You missed your girlfriend. You missed Jenna.

She was filming, not too far from you, an hour or two, but even though she wasn’t too far, you couldn’t come on set when they filmed. There were days she would come home exhausted. 

Everyday you missed her, you missed her hugs, her kisses. You missed baking with her and falling asleep on her chest almost every night.

Jenna always had time for you, even as an actress, you knew it too that she loved you from the moon and back. 

But her schedules were busy with upcoming movies around this time, you barely got to talk to her as much, let alone even see her. There were sleepless nights when Jenna wouldn’t burst into the apartment with you running into her arms. 

You were drained at the end of most days, not being able to have the warm blanket that can’t compare to no other, Jenna. And as much as you’d long to tell her, you just couldn’t. You didn’t want her to see you as someone just as stressful as her work.

So all you could do was wait, you felt like if you somehow had your headphones on everyday, she’d have them on one of the times you wore them. It made you feel a little better, at least you might be doing something together. There were endless crumpled pieces in your personal room with smeared ink on them. Each of them you wrote when you missed her. You think you wrote at least one every day the moon passed your city and dawn broke. Your writing somehow never faltered, even when you were writing about the same thing every single time.

The endless poetic letters and writings crumbled in the palm of your hand, scattered in a box standing in front of your desk. You couldn’t help it. You felt sad. And the thing was, the only thing that made you happy was the one thing you can’t get at the end of the day without waiting.

The sun peeked through the curtains corner, the orange yellow brightness beginning to set.

Your legs kicked up and down, opening the Amazon package you ordered a few days prior, unboxing it and taking out the bubble wrap that crunched and popped as you unwrapped it. Your eyes laid upon the heart framed picture of you in Jenna’s arms. Your fingertips lightly switched on the button as the edges of the heart lit up one by one until it shone a bright pink in the midst of your dim lit apartment. 

You felt your lips curve into a smile and your heart squeeze, hugging the frame. It’ll all be over soon. When it’s over, you’ll be in the embrace of your sweet Jenna.

In the meantime, you made some red velvet cookies, something you did whenever you were a little sad or stressed.

As they came out of the oven, the cookie dough lifted from the heat and you shaped it in a perfect circle. Then, you piped your cream cheese frosting on the top and sprinkled the leftover red velvet cookie crumbs on top. It was something that always made you happy. Because somehow red velvet was always made when you weren’t.

A red plate was placed on the coffee table along with pretty flowers in a vase, seven of your heart-shaped red velvet cookies placed on it. The 8th and 9th? You may have eaten them to cure missing your girlfriend’s warm hugs.

The sun begins to fade as you hear the lock of your apartment click.

Your ears perk up, and so does your dog, Mabel’s. You immediately turn your head as you slowly lift from the couch, your dog seeming to get the hint as he barks playfully. Jenna.

Jenna.

And the door opens as you squeak out your girlfriend’s name happily, seeing her small figure standing at the door as you immediately run up to her. Jenna giggles, her body a bit tense and loosening as you hug her, her arms wrapping around you.

“Hi baby,” she says, a little bit of tiredness staining in her voice as you hug her and don’t want to let go.

“You’re home.” You whisper, tears almost brimming in your eyes from the happiness. 

She pulls away, giving a hesitant smile as she kisses your forehead lightly, “Mhm. I missed you.” She yawned.

“I missed you so much.” You murmur, “I really hated not seeing you every morning.”

There's something in her eye, but you don’t know what. Stress? Relief? Annoyance? Drowsiness?

“I have so much work to do,” she states plainly, rubbing your back, “I have to answer so many emails and talk with some companies that want to do advertisements. So much is on my plate.”

You didn’t want to say the way your heart slowly dropped. You didn’t expect your girlfriend that you missed dearly for months to come back and just expect to do work and not spend time with someone that has been waiting.

You look at her, sweeping the bangs out of her face.

“How about we wind down? You should take a break. Maybe we should bake while listening to the playlist we made together? Spend time with each other? A movie?”

“I’m tired.”

“I think we should just-”

“No.”

“But-”

Then, her fist suddenly slams into the wooden table, making your dog and you flinch from the loudness as she screams at you.

“God! Do you ever know when to just fucking shut up? Can I just go to bed instead of having a burden on my shoulders? I  came back so I could rest. Can I just fucking sleep without having you bother me like you always do? I’m already tired! Can’t you just respect that? Gosh Y/N, you are so fucking annoying!”

It was like an ignition of fireworks. But not the joy when you see the pretty colors, it's the frightening experience when you first hear the loud burst.

As soon as the words that she didn’t mean flowed out of her mouth, she shut it, immediately regretting what she said as she saw the way your happiness began to be shattered. You stood there, and Jenna just felt like she tortured a puppy. She felt her stomach fill with a drowning guilt as it seemed as tears were drowning in your eyes. Her eyes were wild and she soon realized, What the hell am I doing? She knew how much you missed her, she knew it by heart that you missed her day and night. Why did she just yell at you for you just missing someone you loved? She didn’t mean it. The brunette didn’t even know why she said that.

“Okay. Okay, I’m sorry,” You whispered, tears glazing your eyes as your body quivered, your voice cracked as you could barely whisper once again, “I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t even make eye contact with her as you looked down to the floor, quickly trying to claw away the tears that began to fall down your cheeks and glisten against the light above you two. It felt like the light wasn’t even there, you felt like the whole world around you began to crumble into a void.

You felt sick, traumatized, stabbed into the heart till blood forever took your life as Jenna couldn’t help but just stand there. God you felt like such a fool for all of these love letters. All of these letters you wrote, longing for Jenna to come home to fill the part of her that was empty from her absence in your heart. But you didn’t expect to feel your heart tear more.

“Y/N… I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay.” 

“I don’t know what came over-”

“D-don’t come near me.”

She got out of the chair, approaching you, her face looking guilty as she brought her arms to hug you, apologies coming out of her mouth. But you didn’t feel the comfort. You didn’t want to be hugged. All you wanted was to get away, you wanted to get away from someone you never wanted to get away from. You immediately stumbled away from her embrace as you cried, running into the walls of the hallway as you crashed into a small drawer, making a small quiet yelp but still running and immediately shut your room when your figure got in, Mabel following you. She heard glass break into pieces, her eyes tracing to the floor where the counter you bumped into laid, your heart frame you placed gently on there broken. She had never seen that before. You must’ve gotten it when she was gone.

“No..” She whispers to herself, voice shaky, feeling guilty already as she bends down to it and sees the photo of you two hugging each other as you look at the camera with happy faces, her arms wrapped around you. The framed photo was broken, a crack in between the middle that now separated you two. A small static buzz sounding as the pink lighted up frame begins to dim, losing its light.

(the picture of you two)

She couldn’t help but think of it as a sign. Could this all be over? 

Could it all be over because of words that she never meant or could ever take back?

Jenna didn’t feel good, she felt ashamed of her behavior, now noticing all the things she didn’t notice before. Roses on the table, red velvet cookies with a letter on the right, the way the apartment was perfectly tidy. She looked at the hallway, your room shut.

-

30 minutes.

That’s how much time your girlfriend gave you before she walked over to your room, seeing Mabel growl at her as her fingertips ghosted your door knob. A frown appeared on her face as she looked down, the puppy always barking playfully at her and licking her face whenever she came home. Now his eyes glared into her, almost like he was guarding the door. 

She could tell the way the puppy was warning her, almost like he knew the instant change of mood in you as he chased after you and licked your face as you cried.

“Not you too,” she mumbled, bending down, Mabel backing away, “I already feel bad, I don’t want you to not like me too.”

Jenna scratched his ears as he nipped her finger lightly and bared his teeth, almost like saying, “Don’t you dare hurt her like that again.”

A sigh escaped her mouth as she picked him up and opened your door, peeking in. She looked around, the first view she could see were your crumpled letters littering in a box as she crept in and took one, unfolding it.

all reminds me of you.

every aspect of the universe, like the moon and sun. 

the way the sun kisses your freckled skin.

the moon cannot shine without the sun.

just like when you’re here, all the rain has been done.

the moon loves the sun.

the way the sun comforts it during the night with its warmth.

in this universe too,

i know we’ll get through,

because i know that i love you.

-y/n

There were too many to count. So much poetry, like your mind was filled with her because you missed her. You loved her so terribly that when she wasn’t here, a part of you wasn’t there either.

 “Y/N?”

No response, she sniffled, placing Mabel onto your bed as she looked around. Then she heard it. A small cry, her head immediately turning to your bathroom that was half open.

“Y/N?” she repeats again, coming closer as she opens the door, being greeted with the sight of your body slumped over on the toilet, hicupping on cries as she hears you gagging and puking. You were emptying the contents of your stomach, let alone the red velvet cookies you had before.

You looked so scared.

Anyone would feel heartbroken if they saw a sweet girl like you looking like this.

“Sweetheart,” Jena kneeled next to you worriedly, lifting up your hair as you coughed, back arching uncomfortably as she rubbed your shaking body.

Hiccups kept coming as you kept having the need to throw up. You couldn’t help it. You felt so much anxiety and stress, you just wanted it to stop as your shaking body coughed into the toilet. 

Your coughing died down a little, still weak as you manage to croak out a small, “I’m sorry I-I’m annoying. I’m really t-trying not to..” 

Jenna felt her heart shattered as she rubbed circles on your back, stroking your hair. Feeling terrible. She didn’t mean it.

She never meant it.

You looked tired, afraid, now realizing you didn’t look as happy as you once did when she was by your side.

Taking out her anger on someone she loved most.

“Baby no, I’m sorry I hurt you. I know how much you wanted to see me but work got a hold of me and everything was just so stressful. I didn’t mean anything I said, I don’t know why I said that. I’ve just taken all my stress that has been coming from filming on someone I loved and I shouldn’t have done that. It’s no excuse, but I promise you’re not a burden, or annoying, or anything. You’re perfect, and I love you. I’m sorry. There's no reason for you to apologize.”

It seems your coughs had stopped, backing away from the toilet as your shoulders hit the wall.

“I’m here. I love you. I love you too much. I’m so sorry I hurt you,” she whispers into the shell of your ear, her warm breath slightly comforting you as she cradles you lovingly. She rubs your back and flushes the toilet, picking you up into her arms while you curl your body into her. 

Her lips kiss your temple, wiping the tears she knew she caused, her warm hands caressing your cheeks. Jenna carefully places you down into bed, crawling in bed next to you as she spoons you. You turn around, immediately softening into her hug. Your sniffling red nose nestling into her neck.

Her eyes gaze at you, wondering how she could possibly yell at you. You looked so small in her arms while you let out quiet hiccuping cries.

“Shh.. Beautiful girl, I’m here, don’t cry, I won’t ever do that again. Pinky promise.”

Comfort.

Was the first thing you felt as her hand scratched your scalp, playing with the hairs on the nape of your neck. Her fingers soothed your wails, stroking your hair so gently.

Your muscles untense, your cheeks no longer so puffy.

Love.

Was the second thing you felt as Jenna’s lips pressed against your forehead over and over. Her nose nudged into yours and your hands intertwined. You felt loved. You feel the love you felt when you first laid eyes on Jenna as her warm body snuggles you. Your legs are laced together as you feel your heartbeat slow, finding serenity as you can hear the way Jenna’s peaceful heart thumps into your ears softly. 

Your eyes close, you feel yourself falling asleep, Jenna can feel it too. Her fingertips stroke your hair, her lips kissing your cheek.

Forgiveness

Was the last thing you felt before you fell asleep as your head nodded off, finding the soothing comfort in the fluffy, warm duvets, and finding even more comfort in your girlfriend.

“I forgive you,” your heart says, “When it comes to you, I always forgive you. I can’t ever bring myself to not love you. I love you just like the moon loves the sun. I love you even more than myself.”

I love you more than one heart can ever love.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Hello! I love your writing, especially that mad dog Drabble! Could you maybe do something similar for Oikawa? Noncon if you’re comfortable with that too. Thank you so much!

I wrote this awhile ago and then I never got around to publishing it and now I refuse to reread it because i cringe at my old writing but i remember spending a shit ton of time on this so here's my three year old trash fic. enjoy.

(Warnings: dark content, non-con touching, rape, non-con/sexual harassment, verbal degradation, forced orgasms, public-sex, overstimulation) 

18+ content 

 Tutoring Sessions 

You knew Spanish. 

Not an expert by any means, but you could probably get by if you were stranded in a Spanish-speaking country. You were good at it. Decent. 

You just weren’t the teaching type. You could barely learn, let alone, pass your skills on to someone else. Teaching required patience and diligence. That wasn’t you. 

But, really, what could you say when the Captain of the volleyball team himself asked you to tutor him? He looked so desperate too, looking down at you with pleading eyes. He asked for an hour-no-just thirty minutes. All you had to do was correct his grammar, jot a few vocabulary words for him, and maybe teach him extra conjugations. 

Looking back, you should have declined. You should have made any bullshit excuse you could think of. You should have laughed nervously, apologized- have done anything to get out of his attention. 

You shouldn’t have let him coax you into the fourth floor of the library, trapping you with his tall body in an isolated booth. 

At least then his hand wouldn’t be currently rubbing your thigh.

His movements were slow, casual, as his fingers made lazy circles up and down your leg. You couldn’t tell if it was intentional if he was touching you on purpose or mindlessly moving his hands. His face betrayed nothing, solely staring forward at the sheets of paper. 

“So, I just replace the ‘ar’ with ‘aron’?” He asked, his hand slowly moving higher and higher, “Why can’t I use ‘aban’?” 

You bit your lip, “Because it has a definite ending. The-the sentence is ‘they spoke with me yesterday’. The action ended yesterday, that’s-that’s why we use the preterit form.” 

Your breath hitched when his hand trailed underneath your skirt, skimming across your panties. Your hand balled into a shaking fist. 

You wanted to tell him to move, you wanted to shove his hand off you, but you weren’t confrontational. Instead, you elected to push down the feeling of unease in your chest, trying your best to ignore his ministrations, praying that he’d drop his hand by himself.

He didn’t.

“Right, you use preterit form for a definite ending,” He’s murmuring now, a sultry rumble that sends shivers down your spine, “I keep forgetting that." His laugh twinkles through the air. It's a jarring contrast to his warm hands.

“So ‘Hablaron me ayer’?” 

He took that moment to slide past your panties, lightly rocking on your heat. You sucked in a short breath, gritting your teeth. You couldn’t pretend like he didn’t know what he was doing, not when his fingers were sinking deeper and deeper-

A finger tapped on your inner thigh. Play along.

“It’s-it’s ‘me habl-ah-hablaron ayer’. The object comes first-” You flinched when his pointer finger stroked over your hot skin, “And-and then the subject.” 

You wished he’d stop making you talk. You wished you could just push him off you. You wished so many things, things Oikawa wouldn’t grant you. 

“Okay,” He’s grinning now, a little less put together. His breathing is a little ragged, hitching whenever you uncomfortably shift. Though he’s still resolutely staring at the pages before him, his eyes are shining. Eager, “-makes sense,” 

You just realized how empty the library is. 

You can feel his calloused fingers crawling under you, searching for something. His middle finger curls a little, softly brushing over your sensitive clit. 

You stumble forward. He says something, but you’re not listening. Not when his fingers are hovering over your hot button, delving down to push and prod. 

Your reached up to cover your mouth, instantly silencing any noises you knew would come spilling out. He laughs at that, finally finally breaking the act of playing innocent. 

Or maybe it wasn’t such a good thing. He’s looking at you now, a knowing smirk on his pretty face. 

Repulsion burns through you. It’s quickly replaced by humiliation as a wet squelch erupts from the place he’s touching you, making you lurch. 

“I wasn’t expecting that,” He hums in satisfaction, “You already dripping? You must really want this, huh?” 

He stares at you, daring you to reply, knowing fully well you won’t. No, you wouldn’t say anything, you wouldn’t do anything either. You would just sit there and take it. 

Exactly what he wants. 

He’s moving at a rhythm now, rubbing your clit with his thumb as his fingers inch down your folds. Your nails are digging into your trembling palm, but you don’t tell him to stop. You don’t say a word. No, that would be acknowledging what he’s doing. It would make it real-

your thoughts vanish as a slender finger sinks into your pussy. Your sigh is muffled by your clammy hand, digging further into your mouth as he starts fucking you in earnest. He’s going too fast; your mind is spinning. You can’t keep up with the waves of pleasure coming in and out and in and out and in again. 

Your hand slips and the moan that escapes your mouth surprise you. It was loud and so dirty, you couldn’t believe it was your voice-it was you who made that noise. 

His finger curls, bending in your tight walls and you feel like wailing. Oikawa strokes against a spot deep inside you that has you seeing stars. 

You unconsciously lean against him. Oikawa draws you in closer, forcing you to rest against his shoulder as a second finger sinks into your heat. You whine as it pushes through your sopping walls, completely stretching you out. 

You think you hear him snarl a quiet fuck but you’re not paying attention. Your head is pounding, matching the brutal thrusts of his fingers. It’s devouring you it’s too much and you want to stop, you want to breathe. Oikawa isn’t keen on helping, not when he’s rubbing fast circles on your clit, stretching his fingers inside you when he feels you’re not making enough noise. He wants something from you. 

And you’re forced to give it to him. 

There’s a hitch in your breath, the tiniest pause, before you clench around his fingers with a muffled scream. He hushes you, allowing you to bury your face into his shoulder as he keeps fucking your pussy until you collapse in his chest. 

You’re panting when he finally removes his fingers, wiping the slick haphazardly on your inner thigh. You shift uncomfortably when he pulls away, feeling your hole clench again. The orgasm fades away and all you’re left with is the shock of what you’ve done and utter humiliation. 

He lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him. His brown eyes were dark, coated in lust. He’s sneering at you. 

The kiss surprises you. You weren’t expecting his lips to be soft as he gently melts into yours. It’s so tender, a stark contrast to what he was like before. Maybe it was because you didn’t really put up a fight, your lips falling open when he stroked his thumb on your sensitive skin. 

It’s still intense and when he pulls away, you take your first real breath. 

“See?” He hums, a hand settling on yours, “That wasn’t so bad, right?” 

“Oikawa-” 

He’s pulling you out of your seat before you can finish your sentence, dragging you away from the abandoned table filled with unused highlighters. Your legs are still weak, you stumble around a little. Oikawa doesn’t mind, towing you like he’s carrying nothing but air. 

He slips into an empty storage closet, with you reluctantly trailing behind him. The door closes behind you with a dull thud, and you’re forced to stand with him in the darkness. 

When the light comes back on, he’s towering above you. His chest presses against yours, pinning you against the wall. His smile is manic, filled with a hunger that you know won’t be satisfied with just one taste. 

No, he wants to devour you whole. 

It’s the realization, that he will ruin you, that make your eyes sting. Hot tears creep down your cheeks as your lips waver. 

He coos at that, “Don’t cry, baby. You’ll be okay. I took care of you, right? I made you feel so good?” He shuffles closer and you can feel something hard and stiff press against your thigh. 

“Now you gotta’ do the same for me. It’s a fair trade, right?” 

He’s kissing you again. It’s rough, this time, as he bites on your bottom lip, hard enough to tear skin. Your yelp is muffled as he shoves his tongue into your drooling mouth. You taste the smallest hint of something metallic. 

His lips move down, covering your jaw with soft butterfly kisses that made your head spin. When they find your neck, he clamps down on your soft flesh, licking at biting at everything he could taste. Your breath hitches, a sound that’s in between a gasp and a moan. The sensation of his teeth against your neck causes you to lean your head against the wall, reluctantly giving him room. He purrs at that.

“Good girl.”

His hands are fiddling with your buttons. You barely have time to speak before he impatiently rips your shirt, sending the round objects scattering.

A half-hearted apology is mumbled into your skin. His fingers skitter over your bra, you cry out when his cold hands push the material up to feel your tits.

It’s still not enough. His body is feverish, you feel so hot against him, so pliant, so beautiful. You’re crying, whimpering, softly whispering for him to stop but do you even know how desperate you sound? Your voice sounds so needy, it’s hard to be sated from just touching.

Oikawa yanks down your skirt, letting them pool at your ankles. Your thighs are still glistening from his previous ministrations and your panties are wet, still soaked.

He feels pure euphoria watching them slide down your legs, landing on the ground next to the other piles of clothing.

You’re standing before him, barely clothed, shivering. He gives you a chaste kiss on the cheek, mumbling a soft ‘be good for me, okay’, before he reaches down to his pants.

He doesn’t pull it down all the way, just enough to reach inside and pull out his throbbing cock. It’s already an angry red, a single drop of precum leaking at the tip.

He gives it a few cursory pumps, before he stills.

“I really wanted to see you cum, bet you looked so pretty. Do you mind doing that again, just for me pretty please?”

He grinned when you didn’t reply. You can’t understand how someone so beautiful could hide so much cruelty. 

“No? That’s okay, I’ll just make you. Again.”

In one single movement, he hikes your leg against his hip and thrusts his cock inside you.

You wail as he pushes himself inside, already starting to set a rough pace. It hurts, much bigger than two fingers. Whatever he did before clearly didn’t help make it feel any less painful. You give a choked scream, hot tears clouding your vision.

He’s not quiet either, leaning his forehead against the wall behind you, moaning shamelessly. He’s saying your name like a prayer, repeating it over and over again until it sounds like that’s the only thing he can say.

“You have to relax, baby-fuck you’re so tight.” Oikawa hisses, hiking your leg higher to fuck you deeper.

The pain fades. You wish it stayed, keeping you sober while he pushes you against the wall, greedily palming your tits, sucking on your neck.

But it disappears and a loud moan leaves your lips, too breathy to be made from anything but pleasure.

You instinctively cover your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds your traitorous body is making.

“Nope, not this time,” He cheerily says, ripping your hand away, “I wanna hear you scream.” 

He angles his hips, his cock sinking into that spot and you do scream.

The pleasure that waves up and down your body blinds you. Your body isn’t listening to you, anymore. Your cunt keeps sucking him back in with each thrust. You can feel beads of precum roll down your thigh. Oikawa’s head is resting on your shoulder now. His weight makes your shaky legs buckle, digging your back further into the hard concrete.

He kisses your hand, encouraging you to drape it on his shoulder. It limply falls beside his neck, barely brushing against his hair.

You shift your hips and his cock stutters almost stopping his rhythm before Oikawa’s cooing something dirty into your ear, reaching down to rub your clit until you’re crying out again.

It’s addicting, he realizes, having your cunt flutter around him like this, leaking out his precum. It’s a feeling that makes him piston himself into you over and over again, relishing in the way your pussy tries to suck him in, like you were begging for more.

“O-oikawa,” You finally gasp when you finally regain the ability to speak, “Slow down please please slow-slow down.”

His laugh is breathy, “You want me to slow down, angel? What, are you close again?”

You don’t respond, but it’s enough to make him go faster, ignoring your pleas in search of your gradually rising voice.

He hisses when his knee hits the wall, grimacing.

“-Wanted to do this at a bed, you know,” He grunted, “Somewhere soft. But-but I didn’t wanna-hah-scare you, you’re so anxious it was so-fuck- hard choosing a place-place you’d actually show up in.” 

He rubs your clit, feeling your walls grow tighter and tighter. He pulls back to look at you, eyes shut, your lip caught between your teeth, your face filled with lustful pleasure.

“Cum for me, baby. Show me how perfect you are.”

You follow his orders, your orgasm making you cry in ecstasy. It makes you go limp and you almost sink to the floor before Oikawa catches you, keeping you upright as he chases his own end.

He doesn’t stop, not even when you beg him to slow down that it’s too much. No, he just hushes you again, stumbling over a tensed ‘Just a little more’, before he’s going faster and faster until you feel something warm, wet, and sobering fill your cunt. 

He’s slows down then, his eyes shut in bliss as he rocks his hips forward, milking as much as he could. When he finally pulls out, he does it with a hiss, making you flinch as his skin hits your sensitive clit. 

He doesn’t catch you this time, letting you drop to the floor. You tumble to the ground, your hands barely catching your fall. The tile is so cool against your sensitive skin, it almost makes you forget the milky liquid spread on your legs, the finger-print shaped bruises on your thigh. 

You don’t think you have anymore tears left, but they still fall, running down your cheeks. 

He’s instantly over you, brushing a hand down your face. 

“Oh, don’t cry, baby, you did such a good job,” Oikawa cooed, wiping your tears away. 

He’s not comforting you. His smile is too satisfied to make you think he had any semblance of pity. You briefly wonder what he’s seeing. You, exhaustedly crumpled against the wall, your legs curled, cum seeping out, your neck and chest littered with teeth marks. No wonder he looks so pleased.  

He pets your hair, shifting it back in place and it’s so domestic-so loving that it makes you sick. 

Oikawa grins, showing teeth. “How about next time we study at my place.”

[evansbby]

𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬☆.｡.:*

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: mean jock!Ari Levinson x naive!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: daddy!kink, smutt, dd/lg vibes, dubcon, dark Ari, liar Ari, cheater Ari, mean Ari, size difference, innocence kink, naive reader, slight voyeurism, 18+ only, minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Ari is the campus fuckboy and you’re his little plaything. But he says he’s going to make you his girlfriend soon, right?

𝐀/𝐍: So I wrote this quickly in the past few hours. It’s probably filled with mistakes as I have not reread it even once. But please do enjoy! And tell me what you think.

“Ari, no.”

You pout, but all that does is make him smirk. And it’s not like you’re strong enough to stop him as the beefy 6’6 brunette drags you into the locker room.

“C’mon, babe. Just a quickie while the rest of the team is busy.”

“But I’m not talking to you!”

Ari raises an eyebrow, reaching up to rub his thick beard while his other hand remains pressed to the small of your back. “Oh yeah? Is that why you came to watch me play? And sat in the front row and batted your lashes and gave me those fuck me eyes?”

Your jaw drops open, “You meanie! I did no such thing!”

But Ari uses that moment to shove you through the locker room door, locking it behind you before he pins you against it. And in a second, he’s all over you. This huge, hunky basketball player, his muscular biceps all sweaty from practice, his vest sticking to his toned body that you know all too well. He presses his lips against your neck, sponging wet kisses as he tries to unbutton your top to feel you up, “Just a quickie, honey.” He repeats, “I know how badly you want me.”

“I don’t!” You protest, albeit weakly. But you manage to press your arms against his hard chest and push with all your might. But you might as well be a fly combatting a rhino because of how much bigger he is than you. And yet, you continue pushing and batting at his chest, till he stops kissing you and looks down at you with a raised eyebrow and a mildly irritated look on his face.

“What’s your problem?”

“I told you, Ari! I’m not speaking to you.”

The beefy brunette rolls his eyes before backing away and peeling his vest off. You gulp, trying not to grow distracted by how hot his body is, how big and muscular he is, how defined his sixpack is. He’s the hottest guy on the basketball team. No. Scratch that. He’s the hottest guy on campus and it’s crazy to think that he’s crazy about you.

Ari sits down on the wooden bench by the lockers, taking up the whole area as he spreads out with his legs open and pats his beefy thighs. “Oh yeah? Why don’t you come sit on daddy’s knee and tell me exactly why you’re mad, sweetheart.”

Oh, he was so cocky sometimes! Ari had the worst reputation among all the girls in your college. An asshole. A player. A fuckboy. Your friends had warned you not to fall for his charms, they’d told you he’d prey on you. Take advantage of you because of how “innocent” you were. That’s what he did with everyone else.

But you were different! That’s what Ari had told you when he’d taken your virginity weeks ago at a frat party. You’d felt dizzy from the one singular sip of alcohol you’d consumed and had gone to lie down in one of the upstairs bedrooms. And not ten minutes later, you’d felt the bed dip and you’d opened your eyes to see the hottest upperclassman on campus sitting right next to you. The rest was history. But he’d told you how beautiful you were that night, how he couldn’t take his eyes off you. How he’d had a fight with his girlfriend and maybe you could cheer him up?

And he’d made you feel so good. The two of you had been fooling around ever since. It was crazy to you, how a senior as hot and perfect as Ari Levinson (captain of the basketball team and the most popular guy on campus) seemed to be so interested in a random freshman like you. And he’d done things to your body that no other fumbling boyfriend could ever figure out how to do before. Yes, in your eyes, Ari Levinson was a God.

Which is why you obediently perch down on his lap in the locker room, and the older boy smirks, pushing the neckline of your top to the side so he can play with your bra strap. You feel hot all over but try to remember why you’re mad at him, despite the fact that he’s so close to you and completely shirtless.

“Ari, you didn’t keep your promise.” You begin, but he’s already begun kissing up your jaw, pressing your body flush against his till you can feel his boner digging into your ass.

“Mm? What promise was that, baby?”

You try not to grow distracted by all the cut pet-names he calls you, or the fact that he’s kissing and touching you so ravenously, making you feel so beautiful and sexy and desirable because he of all people wants you so bad. But you need to stay focused and get your point across before he has you completely helpless underneath him.

“Well, you told me you were gonna break up with your girlfriend last week, but Wanda says she saw you hanging out with Sharon yesterday at the ice cream parlour.” You sniffle, “She said… She said you looked all cosy, huddled up in the booth with her. She even saw you guys kissing!” You shake your head and scrunch your eyes shut, willing yourself not to cry.

“Aww, baby.” Ari coos, his heavy arms wrapping around you and cuddling you close, and you can’t help but cry into his bare chest. He was so warm and hairy and just so huggable, and his hand rubs soothingly up and down your back as he hugs you hard. “This is all just a huge misunderstanding.”

You look up at him, “It is?”

“Of course.” Ari says confidently, his expression not wavering for a second as he strokes your cheek. “I was at the ice cream parlour with Sharon, but I was only there to break up with her. And then we hugged it out and she gave me a goodbye kiss on the cheek. That’s probably what Wanda saw.”

“B-But Wanda says you guys were embracing for a long time.”

Ari blinks, and for a fleeting moment, something dark crosses over his features before they relax once more, and he gives you his winning smile. “Well, that’s because Sharon’s uncle died.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t going to tell you that since it’s kind of private, but since you wouldn’t let it go… Well, Sharon’s uncle died, baby. And she was really sad about it, so I gave her a long hug and comforted her.”

“Oh.” You pause, trying to makes sense of all this new information. Your friends had told you in the past that you could be gullible – but Ari wouldn’t lie about someone dying, would he? You look up at him, seeing his pouty pink lips smiling down at you gently while his big hands continue to rub over your back, slipping down under your top to do so. “Well that’s… That’s really sad, Ari. Is she okay?”

“Hm?” Ari’s too busy staring down your cleavage, and his finger hooks under your bra strap and snaps it lewdly against your skin, his pink tongue darting out to run over his lips. His usually blue eyes look blown out and navy, and he lifts your top over your breasts to give them a squeeze, “What’d you say, baby?”

“I said, is Sharon okay? Deaths within immediate family can be hard to deal with. Was she close with her uncle?” You can’t help but feel bad. Sharon had been Ari’s long-term girlfriend for a while, but Ari had told you that they’d been having a lot of fights recently and that he was meaning to break up with her. He’d told you that Sharon was insufferable and mean and that you were sweet and lovely. He said he wanted to make you his new girlfriend, but it would have to wait until he broke up with Sharon. And now he’d done it.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Ari answers distractedly, gesturing for you to lift your arms up so he can peel your top off you. You yelp in protest when he throws it across the room before expertly unclasping your bra with one hand. And your bra goes flying across the room as well, and Ari wastes no time in latching his mouth onto your nipple, sucking harshly and making you throw your head back and gasp out loud.

His hand slips up to massage your other breast and pinch your nipple which is hard as glass. You pant, loving how you turn into putty in his hands as soon as he touches you. He’s just so experienced and makes your body feel so good with the simplest of gestures, and you can’t help but grab his long brown locks that reach down till the base of his neck, pulling hard at the same time he gives your nipple a hard suck, practically suctioning your whole breast into his mouth.

“Ah, Ari! Does this mean you can finally make me your girlfriend?” You ask, despite all the sensations your body is feeling. You’ve been waiting to be his girlfriend for weeks now. It’s been hard having to meet up with him in secret all the time. Waiting for him to text you late at night, or wait until the early hours of the morning when he shows up to your dorm room for sex. You want Ari to take you out on dates, hold your hand on campus and let everyone know that you’re his girlfriend now. And Ari had promised he’d do all of that for you. Was now finally the time?

“God, you have the prettiest tits, baby.” Ari murmurs against your breasts, pushing them together and burying his face in them, licking and sucking and biting the sensitive skin while you pant and wail. “You had me distracted the entire time I was playing. Kept looking at you jumping up and down every time I scored, fuck!” He drives his hard crotch up against your ass and you whimper, holding steadily onto his broad shoulders. “Felt like you were putting on a private show for me, baby.”

Despite your pleasure, you can’t help but feel indignance towards his lewd insinuation, “I was not!”

Ari smirks, “Oh yeah? You weren’t purposely bouncing your tits for daddy? I guess I forgot what an airhead you can be, not even realising how sexy your body is in all these tiny outfits that you wear especially for me, huh?”

“Ari!” You smack his chest. He could be so rude sometimes, a complete asshole! But he was also the one who’d called you beautiful when he’d taken your virginity. When he’d praised you for being the most sensitive, understanding and sweetest girl he’d ever met. Oh, as much as he made your blood boil with his lewd remarks, he also made butterflies flutter in your tummy with his words that were sweet as honey!

The captain of the basketball team smiles down at you, his blue eyes twinkling with lust as he leans back against the lockers behind him, folding his arms over his chest as he looks you over.

“Get up and turn around, baby. Daddy wants to see your ass.”

You immediately obey. His deep, commanding voice always resonates with your submissive side, and your pussy throbs as you stand up and turn till your back is facing him. Shivers run down your spine when you feel his hand press against the small of your back, pushing you forward till you’re bending over, your ass pointed straight to his face.

“Now take this tiny excuse for a skirt off. And do it slowly.”

With care, you slowly slip the blue denim skirt with pink frills down your bare legs. Ari was right, you’d worn this slutty outfit especially for him – whether you wanted to admit it or not. You were addicted to him and the attention he gave you. Sure, you were mad at him, but that hadn’t stopped you from attending his basketball practice in these tiny clothes, hoping he’d pay you some attention. Which he had.

But it was all okay, and you didn’t even have to feel bad anymore! Ari had broken up with his girlfriend which meant he would make you his new girlfriend!

“Daddy, isn’t it great we won’t have to sneak around anymore?” You ask him cutely. But he’s too busy staring at your ass to answer. You step out of your skirt and shiver when you feel his hands groping your bare ass. You’re wearing a tiny candy pink G-string which barely conceals anything, and Ari’s going to town as he squeezes and fondles your butt to his heart’s content.

“You have such a cute baby ass.” Ari murmurs, pressing kisses on your fleshy cheeks as he keeps a firm grip on them, “Best ass I’ve ever seen, honey. I can always see it peaking out from under your slutty little skirts. I’m always itching to give it a smack and see how it jiggles.” H squeezes it roughly, “Tell me to hit you, baby.”

“Huh?”

“Tell daddy you want to be hit for being a naughty little girl and wearing slutty outfits.” Ari says, his voice deep with carnal lust.

“B-But.”

“Do it. Or I’ll take you over my knee and spank you twice as hard.”

You pout at his threat, but you know he’ll follow through with it. A week ago, Ari had seen you flirting with his friend Curtis. It was completely innocent on your part – you just liked to talk to people, after all! – but Ari hadn’t thought so. He’d reminded you that you were his, and that you couldn’t speak to any other man. And then he’d slung you over his knee and spanked you till your ass was raw and glowing with pain.

You swallow harshly, “Daddy, please hit my baby ass.”

“Why?”

“ ‘Cause I was wearin’ a slutty outfit.”

SMACK.

You’re almost knocked off your feet with the force of the slap, but it also resonates straight down to your cunt. And from your bent over position, you can see your slick dripping down your leg. God, the effect Ari has on you is insane. He plays your body like a fiddle, and knows exactly how to get you so wet.

He continues playing with your ass, slapping it and squeezing it and groping it. And you know he’d happily do this for hours if he had the chance. He’d actually done that once, when he’d come to your dorm room at 3 in the morning. He’d been high and horny as hell, and had asked you to lay on your stomach naked while he played with your ass and ate you out from the back for what felt like hours. Not that you were complaining – you were sure you’d fallen asleep and woken up several times to him still playing with your butt. It was clearly his favourite part of your body, and he’d even stuck a finger up there. That had woken you up and made you squeal, and Ari had just laughed and told you to stop being a baby…

Back in the present, you huff indignantly, growing impatient and hoping he’d get the message. But Ari’s in the zone, spreading your ass cheeks and practically making out with your asshole, muttering about how hot your ass is and how he’d tattoo his name on it if he could.

“Daddy! I’m getting’ sore!” You grumble, because your back is hurting from bending over for so long. Mercifully, the brunette chuckles, grabbing your arm and pulling you back up into his lap. But not before he grabs the flimsy lace of your G-string and rips it in half. You gasp although you’re not too surprised, and grab onto his shoulders as he helps you straddle him. And you both let out collective moans as your core nestles on top of his clothed dick that is hard and poking out against his basketball shorts.

“Poor baby,” Ari teases, nipping and biting against your neck as he humps up against you. “Weren’t you mad at me a second ago? And now look at you, naked in the locker room like you’re getting paid to be my personal slut.” He smirks, liking the sound of that as he can’t help but give your ass another rough squeeze, “The captain’s personal slut. You like that, baby? You like being my slut?”

You pout, “You said you’d make me your girlfriend once you broke up with Sharon.”

Ari sighs, grabbing your hand and pressing it against his hard crotch, “Are you still thinking about that?”

“Well, it’s what you said! And now you’ve broken up with her, so –”

“Honey, I will make you my girlfriend.” Ari chucks you under your chin until you giggle, looking up to meet his sparkling eyes. “But we gotta lay low for a while. You know, since Sharon’s uncle died. It wouldn’t be very nice for me to rub my new girl in her face, would it?”

You blink, “I guess not.”

“It wouldn’t.” He confirms. “Look, you’re my special girl and you already know that.” He gives you a quick kiss while his hand holds yours in place over his crotch. “I already told you I’ve never met anyone else like you, haven’t I? So of course, I’ll make you my girl, but you have to be patient.”

You nod slowly, “Okay, daddy. I can do that.”

“Good girl. Now take my dick out.”

Ari presses your hand inside his shorts, and you feel his dick – so hot and hard – as it pulses against your fingers. You wrap them around the base and pull him out, mouth watering slightly at the sight of his length. Under the bright locker room lights, he looks doubly huge. Every time you see it, you wonder how exactly he fits it inside of you.

You still remember your first time, with the party music blaring in the distance. Ari breathing sweet words against your ear, coaxing you gently while you cried like a baby. Clutching his huge body close to yours as he penetrated you for the first time, calling you his special little baby. Calling you his perfect princess, telling you how good and tight you felt around his daddy dick, promising you how good he’d take care of you. God, it had hurt so much when he’d stuffed himself inside you, but the pleasure that came afterwards was so beautiful and you couldn’t get enough of him since.

“So big, daddy.” You pant, feeling especially little as he holds you in his lap with his hard dick, so red and angry with pent-up lust, throbbing in your hand.

Ari bites his lip, gazing at you with hunger, “Yeah, baby? You like my big dick?”

“L-Love it!”

“Mm, you like how it barely fits inside you? You like how I break your little baby pussy in half every time I fuck you, huh?” He wraps his hand around your smaller one, making you run your hand up and down his length and jack him off.

“Yes, daddy, I love it! Love havin’ you inside me!” You say earnestly, and Ari moans out loud.

His phone vibrates then, and you snap out of your lustful reverie long enough to glance down at the bench where it rests. You see the name SHARON flash on his screen before he grabs it and throws it into his gym bag.

“She’s calling because she wants to set up a time to grab some of her stuff from my dorm room.” Ari explains smoothly when he sees your expression. “Don’t doubt daddy, baby. You know I’d never do you dirty like that.”

You’re all too ready to believe him, letting him lift you up by the hips before he slams you down on his dick. And one second your hole is weepy and empty, and the next you’re stuffed full to the brim with his thick dick. And Ari has to force you down to get it in all the way, his teeth gritted as he drives his huge monster length up your tiny pussy, and you feel like you’ll tear in half but in the best way possible. And all your thoughts and doubts about Sharon are forgotten as Ari completely manhandles you on top of his dick, and you feel so full and you gasp into his mouth as he grabs your face and kisses you sloppily.

“My slutty little girl,” Ari murmurs against your lips, “Coming to all my practices and cheering me on just so you can get your little pussy stuffed to the brim, isn’t that right?”

“N-No! OW! Yes, okay?! YES!” You can’t help but agree with him when he slaps your ass, before lifting you up with his strong arms and driving you back down.

“Tell me you’re my little slut.” He commands.

“I’m your little slut, daddy. Please!” You cry.

“Say it again.”

“I’M YOUR LITTLE SLUT, OKAY? PLEASE, DADDY!”

Ari loves to make you beg and you know it. You remember once in the past, he’d sauntered into your dorm room in the early hours of the morning. He’d sat on your bed like he owned it and lit up a joint, despite you protesting that smoking wasn’t allowed in your dorm. Well, that night he’d sat there and blown smoke in your face while he made you suck his dick. Lazily guiding your face with one hand while he held the joint with the other. And he’d made you beg him to fuck you, beg him for hours before he’d relented. He’d told you he loved playing with you, loved unravelling you till you came undone in his hands. Loved pushing you till the edge, till you were so submissive for him that you could cry.

And cry you had. Big, fat tears pouring down your face as you’d begged him to fuck you. To just put it inside you, even if it was just a little bit. “Just the tip, daddy!” He’d made you beg while your mouth was full of his dick. And you couldn’t believe that you, who’d entered this college as a virgin, were on your knees for the college senior fuckboy while he blew smoke in your face and laughed while you begged and begged for his dick that he’d made you addicted to.

But he always relented in the end. He always gave you that sweet release and then some. Ari was an extremely skilled lover, and he knew just how to make you come undone till you were pulsing around him, almost passed out with pleasure. And then he’d light another joint and when you’d timidly ask for a puff, he’d tell you that babies like you weren’t allowed to smoke. And then he’d laugh some more.

Back in the present, you’re moaning like a wanton whore while Ari bounces you up and down on his dick, and it feels like he’s piercing you open from the inside out while he murmurs dirtily in your ear. And the small locker room is filled with the lewd sound of panting and skin slapping against skin, and you almost don’t hear the loud knocking on the door and the doorknob as it rattles.

“Hey, Levinson! When are you and your side chick gonna be done? The rest of us have to change!”

You head snaps up but Ari presses his lips against yours, his kiss swallowing up all your suspicions.

“It’s just Curtis, you know how much of a dick he can be.” Ari murmurs against your lips, grinding his hips in just the right way that has you feeling that delicious feeling. He moves you up and down at lightning speed, like you’re just a ragdoll that weighs nothing in his strong arms. Your eyes almost roll to the back of your head when you feel your clit rubbing against his pubic hair, making you clench around his dick and causing him to swear profusely.

“Goddamit, baby, so good. Your pussy’s so tight and sexy, baby.” He squeezes your tits harshly, twisting your nipples and adding to your bliss as you feel your pleasure mount up.

“G-Gonna cum, daddy,” You whimper, and earn another slap to your ass.

“Not yet, dumb baby. Not unless daddy says so.”

But you can’t wait, you just can’t! Ari had told you once it’s because you were a virgin and knew nothing about sex, nothing about holding your orgasms. He said he’d found it cute how you could never hold it, how you always chased your release selfishly. But you just couldn’t help it! He made you feel so good! How could he expect you to hold anything?

The invisible rubber band snaps inside you and you explode, your slick walls pulsating around his dick as you cum. Waves of pleasure radiating through your body, making your legs feel like jelly as Ari continues to bounce you up and down. His abs and thighs are covered in your cream, and his eyes grow distracted as he stares at the mess you’ve made. And you sob and cling to him, feeling so needy and overwhelmed as he continues to fuck you.

“What a stupid little baby you are.” Ari mocks, slapping your cheek condescendingly while you gaze dazedly up at him. “First, you dress up like a little attention seeking tart just to get me to fuck you, and then you can’t even play by your daddy’s rules, can you? Always so needy, always cumming without permission. Baby, one of these days I’m gonna fuck you in front of my friends just so they can see how badly you take instruction. Maybe that’ll straighten you up, huh?”

“Nooooo…” you cry weakly, pounding at his chest because you feel overwhelmed as he continues to piston his hips up and pierce into you.

“The whole basketball team’s gonna watch me fuck my little slut next time you cum without permission.” Ari says through gritted teeth before he suddenly throws you off his dick. And you gape, staring in awe at his pink dick completely coated in your sticky cream. But not for long, because Ari mauls your naked body till you’re bent over the bench on your hands and knees. He gives your ass three hard smacks, the force of which would’ve knocked you over had his other hand not been holding you in place. And then he shoves himself back into you, fucking you doubly harder than before.

“Oooh my god!” You squeal and you hear him smirk.

“Not God, sweetheart. Just me.”

And then he well and truly shifts into jackhammer mode, thrusting into you so hard that his hips become a blur. He grabs you by the hair and pulls you upwards, till your back is against his hairy chest and you can feel him biting against your neck. He gropes your breasts lewdly, pinching your nipples as he angles your head to face forward.

“Look at that, baby.” Ari coos, and you gape at the sight of yourself getting fucking like a whore. He’s made you look into the huge full-length mirror that takes up one side of the room. And you can’t believe how much bigger Ari is than you, like a giant dwarfing you completely as he fucks you. As he completely breaks you in half and mocks you as he does it. “Look at you, getting what you deserve. This is what you wanted, huh? You want me to make you my girl, huh baby? Well that means you let me fuck you whenever and however I want, you got that?”

“Y-Yes, daddy, yes, yes, yes!” You cry, ready to agree with whatever he says as you begin to see stars again.

“Whatever daddy says goes, you got that?” He holds your head in place, forcing you to watch as he ruins you. Forcing you to watch the sweaty mess you’ve become as this beefy, giant of a man has his way with you. “If I tell you I want you to lick my cum off the floor, you’ll do it and say ‘thank you, daddy’, won’t you?”

“I will!”

“And if I tell you I want to fuck your ass, what’re you gonna say sweetheart?”

“Do it!” You sob, delirious and ready to agree with whatever he says. He’s making you see stars like no one else could, forcing the pleasure out of your body through his expert hands, his fat dick and his dirty, controlling words. You love how Ari has the upper hand, how he has control over you in every single way possible. He’s older than you, bigger than you, stronger than you, and he holds you at his mercy and you love it. You get off on it. And you’d do anything he’d tell you to.

“That’s my good little slut.” Ari praises, and you can hear the wolf whistles and hoots through the door of the locker room. You know his friends are on the other side, and you know the walls are thin. You know they can hear every little thing, from Ari’s dirty talk to the sick slap of your skin against his to your wanton moans. You see Ari’s expression in the mirror, and he looks smug and proud, like he’s the king who’s on top of his world right now.

His hand snakes down to rub your clit, and your eyes nearly bug out of your head. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your sob, loving how well he knows your body. How he circles your clit with his finger before pinching it, rubbing it sensually like only he knows how to. And all the while holding you in place while he fucks the living daylights out of you.

“And what if I want you to service my friends, honey? You’d do that too?” Ari whispers darkly in your ear, casually running a hand through his long brown mane as if he hasn’t just said the dirtiest thing in the world. His gaze is locked on yours, gauging your reaction. And why does your pussy clench around his dick when he says it? He laughs mockingly, “What a fuckin’ slut you are, baby. You’d service the whole basketball team, wouldn’t you? Shake your little baby ass for all of them and let them tuck money into those slutty little panties you always wear?”

“Y-Yeah,” you moan pitifully, grabbing his forearm as he continues to play with your puffy bundle of nerves. “I’d do it for you, daddy. Fuck, don’t stop! I’d do anything for you!”

“Damn right you would.” Ari boasts, holding you tightly in place against him as his hips continue to move. And you’re sure you’d have fallen down to the ground had he not been there to hold you up. Like a propped-up doll, ready to do her master’s bidding. “And then I’d fuck your ass in front of all of ‘em, so they’d know you belong to me. My slutty little plaything to do with what I please. Remember that.”

You cum so hard, you feel like you’ve blacked out for a few seconds. You squirt violently around his dick, milking him as you whine and scream his name, thank him for fucking you so good, making you feel so addicted to his cock as the searing pleasure courses through you. And that’s when you feel his heavy load release inside you, burning you from the inside out.

Ari never wore condoms with you. He said he wanted his pretty baby to feel him raw.

And you can feel him, alright. Every bit of his thick cum as it overflows inside you. Trickling down your thigh because you can’t hold it in, there’s way too much of it. Your legs give out underneath you, and Ari hoists you up into his arms like you’re his little baby. Trembling in his giant arms as you wrap your legs around his waist and bury your face in his hairy chest. His dick is still inside you, pulsing out the remainder of his load which seems to be never-ending.

“Attaboy, Levinson, you fuckin’ dog! Thanks for the show!”

You hear the voices laughing and hollering from the other side of the locker room door, but you’re too fucked out to care too much, only focusing on Ari and how big he is as he holds you close.

“Daddy,” you whimper, feeling needy. And Ari presses your face with soft kisses.

“You were so good for me baby,” He praises you, “So good for daddy.” And then he grows distracted by his cum as it trickles out of you, swiping it up from your pussy and pressing it into your mouth. You’re so exhausted but you lick it clean, hoping to impress him. He watches you suckle his finger dry, and you can feel his dick hardening inside you again. “I’ve got you trained so well, baby.”

You look up at him needily, “Am I your girlfriend now, daddy?”

Ari chuckles, setting you down on the bench as you try to catch your breath. He already looks like he’s ready for round two, standing tall and barely having broken a sweat, his dick almost fully hard once more and slapping against his abs. He gives you a condescending pat on the head before pushing his shorts off.

“Soon, baby.” He says before making his way to one of the stalls. He turns and shoots you a wink. “Come join me in the shower once you can walk.”

THE END AKFHSDLANA

I’m so nervous yall! i wrote this so spontaneously and it is the first time in a long time that i have posted an ARI FIC!!! please please let me know what you think! please reblog and leave feedback! let me know what you think of ARI! Is he gonna make her his gf?? is he a good guy??? HOW WAS IT??? let me know!! thank you ily all bye hehe

[snailmail444]

Happy birthday Snail :D I wanna say I really enjoy ur work (especially the one u wrote Abt Sam being forgetful (I totally don’t read and reread it all the time)).

ANYWAYS

How do u think the bachelors would be with a gf who’s quiet in bed (like only heavy breathing and gasps)

Bachelors Quiet GF Headcannons

18+ 🌱 MDNI 🌱 NSFW

This one was SUPER challenging because there were so many options. Think it still came out really authentic to all of them though :) hope you enjoy!! NSFW under the cut!

P.S. thank you for the birthday wishes and the sweet comment about the Sam forgetful piece!! So so glad you like it!! 💞💞💞

Harvey-

💚 Comfort king

💚 He gets it with shyness and whatnot, but he wants you to feel so good and comfortable that you’re okay making sound if you want to

💚 Still! Praising! Even just the lightest little huffs and pants he’s telling you how beautiful you sound and how perfect

💚 Kinda leans dom sometimes without intending to, so he might tell you to be good and make some noise for him

💚 ONLY if you’re in that mode already and if he feels okay pushing it

💚 Looooves when you get noisy even when you’re trying to stay quiet he literally cannot with it

💚 Makes him insane

Elliott-

❤️ Sing for me my angel of music

❤️ No but for real?

❤️ Elliott is fucking DEAD. SET. On having you say what you’re feeling

❤️ He wants to know when you’re feeling good, how good you’re feeling, how much you love what’s happening to you

❤️ In between sweet, long sucks of your cunt he’s asking you if you love it, if you’re close, if you want to come

❤️ Makes you beg for every inch just so he can hear you telling him you’re obsessed with the pleasure he’s giving you 💞

Alex-

🤎 Wouldn’t dream of changing you

🤎 Literally does not say a word about it because he’s got the worlds worst case of heart eyes

🤎 If you’re quiet he thinks it’s so cute and sweet

🤎 Does love for the few occasional whimpers

🤎 But for the most part he’s just happy to be here

🤎 Tells you as much!!

🤎 Probably ends up saying way too much because he can’t keep his little romantic mouth shut during sex

🤎 Especially since the floor is open with the lack of noise on your part

🤎 Probably ends up saying he’s in love with you time like three. Oops lol

🤎 King behavior as always

Shane-

💙 His end game is making you scream

💙 By any means he wants you fucking hollering because of how good you feel

💙 Will overstimulate you to the point of crying if that’s what it takes 💞

💙 Obsessed with drawing it out of you. He knows you can get loud given the proper motivation

💙 And that motivation just so happens to be manhandling and rough fucking

💙 Grunts and groans and asks if you’re holding back on him

💙 Gags you and then tries to make you as loud as possible because he loves the struggle 👀

Sam-

🩷 Talks enough for the both of you

🩷 Honestly doesn’t even think about it

🩷 Figures you’d tell him if you weren’t enjoying yourself

🩷 So he fills in all the spaces with enthusiasm

🩷 literally BABBLING!!!!!

🩷 You feel so good fuck I love it you’re doing so good shit thank you so much you’re perfect—

🩷 Absolutely cannot stop speaking :)

🩷 So if you’re quiet literally don’t even worry with Sam he’s doing the heavy lifting on this one

Sebastian-

🖤 He’s ALSO quiet so he’s not bothered if you feel uncomfortable making noise

🖤 He feels good that you don’t think you have to preform

🖤 Makes whatever noise does come out of you that much hotter

🖤 Throwing on some music to fill the awkward spaces

🖤 Probably ends up taking up a little slack on the talking/noise level

🖤 Not a ton, but definitely humming against your skin

🖤 Can find a better use for his mouth than talking

🖤 And honestly? He can find a better one for yours too 😌