#i think i am hot for plane

[margarett]

The music, the plane, the feelings, everything ❤️❤️❤️

[faunandfloraas]

hihi jess can i request a moodboard if ur willing 🛸🐞🌙🐾🌸 <if these make no sense ill always take a jess' vibecheck 🩷🩷 all the ones you have made till now are so pretty!!!

🛸🐞🌙🐾🌸moodboard for Juni (this is accidentally just ksm as fox mulder moodboard)

[josecariohca]

.

[todayisafridaynight]

plane scene is so funny cause why is mine a sleeper agent that wakes up whenever daigo is mentioned

can’t wait to see it in dragon engine :3

mine has been the winner for Funniest Character Imaginable for 15 consecutive years and i have yet to see anyone come close i fear

[suddencolds]

i've def heard of people having to be in the right headspace to write like, v thirsty/self-indulgent snz content, but somehow i find it equally difficult to be in the right headspace to write angst

[lecliss]

Why tye fuck am I crying over ninja clash in the land of snow???? I fucking love this movie so much. It's sooooo fucking good. It's definitely my favorite and it was only the first ever Naruto movie. Can you believe they peaked at the first fucking one??? Why is it so good??? Fuck man aaaaaa

[keeps-ache]

reread six of crows and i think i'm going to need another break, from. reading

[inspector-montoya-fox]

hi how have you been?

[anonymousmarshmallow]

Giant monster getting attached to a kid is the best. 10/10

[andypantsx3]

contents: general bakugou x princess reader; 1.1k, fem reader. lowkey dedicated to the loml @ofmermaidstories even tho there's e2l undertones.

thinking about being a princess forced into a political marriage. your father is ailing and with no sons in his lineage, your country risks dissolution and open war if you do not marry.

already several of the more prominent families are forming factions; those with eligible sons are desperately trying to engineer opportunities for themselves, those without are amassing foot soldiers and weapons.

you cannot stand any of the pompous, greedy, egocentric princelings put forth by the noble families; men who care nothing for the country or its people, men with no thought for policy or justice—men who would gorge themselves on wine and women as the country crumbled at their feet.

even with a husband, there is no guarantee against a coup, not unless your husband is formidable enough to suppress one.

there is only one man you can stomach the thought of assuming the throne, one man with a head for strategy, a sense of duty, and a reputation strong enough to suppress the growing threat of political discord.

you find general bakugou katsuki in his quarters in the small hours of the morning, unable to sleep for your nerves.

"princess," he rasps, opening the door in nothing but his breeches. your face burns as you're confronted with the sight of a man's naked chest, miles of bare skin, golden in the glow of the torch lights.

"general," you say, resolutely raising your eyes to his face. there is no time to dance around the issue. "i need you to marry me."

bakugou's blonde hair is bed-rumpled, his manner sleep-soft, though his gaze is sharp. he watches you for a long moment before answering.

"'s an awful unromantic proposal," he says, an eyebrow raising.

despite his honorability, he's always had a way of grating on your nerves, and he knows it. you can't stop the reflexive scowl that paints your mouth, nor the irritability that seeps into your tone.

"i am being serious," you say, crossing your arms.

bakugou's eyes follow the movement. you are suddenly all too aware that you've marched through the castle halls in nothing but your night rail, too overcome with the thought of what must be done to pay the appropriate attention to your wardrobe.

"what, you lookin' to consummate it now?" he asks, gaze almost burning through the thin cotton of your shift.

your ears go hot. "can you stop being the most obnoxious man on earth for one moment."

bakugou leans an arm against his open door, bicep flexing with the movement. you try valiantly not to notice the way the shadows pool in the divots of his muscle, the way his trousers sit against the plane of his toned stomach.

"if you want me to say yes, you're gonna need to be a little nicer, princess," he says, mouth flicking into an awful little smirk.

"general—bakugou," you hiss. "do you want to watch the country you've spent years defending dissolve into nothing at the hands of these narcissistic, coddled fools?"

"rich words for a princess," bakugou says, his voice nearly a growl in the dim.

you are aware that you are sheltered as a royal. you are aware you are soft and naive. but you are educated, you are strong-willed, and you care. you may not be a son to your father, but you know you know have studied harder than any man on your father's court. you want to do your best for this country.

"do not mock me," you command.

bakugou's scarlet gaze trails over you, hot and liquid in the flickering torchlight.

"no? then what d'you want me to do to you?" he asks.

you fight down the furious flush of humiliation. "i want you," you repeat through gritted teeth, "to marry me."

bakugou's golden eyelashes dip as his gaze slides back over your crossed arms, then lower, all the way down to your bare toes. you feel horribly vulnerable under his scrutiny, even more knowing you are already at his mercy.

"you're serious," he rasps, eyes cutting back to yours.

"unfortunately," you grit out.

that draws another flicker of a smirk out of him. "and y'came running down here at midnight in your little nightdress because you were too scared you'd chicken out, is that it?"

that is absolutely it, and you hate that he knows it.

"will you marry me or not?" you demand, even your nose feeling hot now. "i don't know what my nightdress has to do with the question!"

"your nightdress is gonna have a lot to do with it if i say yes, angel," bakugou says.

you hate him. maybe it's better to just let the country fall to ruin, let some jumped up coalition of families amass power and overwhelm bakugou and his soldiers. with any luck maybe they will stab him.

you'll have to come up with another plan.

"fine," you hiss, turning on your heel. "message received."

but a hot hand closes on your arm before you can take another step, yanking you back to him. you stumble, barely catching yourself before bashing your nose into his chest.

"you know what you're asking for?" bakugou demands, leaning in to look into your face. "you know this wouldn't be easy."

"i know," you say begrudgingly. "but you are the country's best option—my best option. none of the men put forth are acceptable."

"don't like pretty boys, princess?" bakugou asks.

"you're plenty pretty," you bite out before you can think. horror overwhelms you when bakugou's smirk grows wider, a sharp white knife in the dark.

"think i'm pretty huh?" he says, his tone gloating.

"i think that you are awful and maybe i'd rather take my chances with a coup," you growl, trying to pry your arm from his grip.

but bakugou's hold tightens for a moment, and he leans down, close enough that his breath ghosts over the collar of your night rail.

"then if you're sure this is what you want, princess, you can have it," bakugou says. his thumb smoothes over the skin of your arm for just a moment, soft and feather light before he lets you go.

you step out of his reach, skin tingling, face flaming. there's no reason to delay, then. "fine, we're agreed. i'll see you in the morning. we'll announce it then."

you spin on your heel, bakugou's grunt of acceptance following you as turn back down the hall.

"see you in the morning, angel," he drawls, suddenly all agreement.

he may be the general between the two of you, but you know when it's time for a strategic retreat. you ignore his response and flee—your ears burning all the way to your chambers.

[yieldtotemptation]

RITUAL ft. Yujin

yujin x male reader smut

7k words

Let’s be clear: you’re well aware of what a monumentally stupid idea this is.

For you, it’s just a job. You’ve been fired from plenty before, and there will be plenty more after.

But for her, for Yujin, it’s her career. Her life. Her everything.

And yet, here, in the cramped confines of a bathroom stall, your hand on her ass and hers diving down your jeans; you can’t let go of the nagging suspicion that maybe that’s the fucking point.

“How much time do we have?” Yujin’s lips are on your neck, tiny, hot breaths tickling your skin, nimble fingers at your waist, negotiating with your zipper.

“We had fifteen minutes, an hour ago,” you remind her. “We’re gonna miss soundcheck.”

“It’ll be fine.” Yujin’s unbothered, dismissive of anything that isn’t freeing your cock from its denim prison. “They’ll wait for me. They always do.”

There’s that hint of arrogance, that unshakeable confidence of youth, the invincibility that comes with being that absurdly hot. You can’t blame her at all for it.

What Yujin wants, she gets. You've seen it first hand.

It’s one of the many things you’ve learned about her over the past few weeks.

Well one of the few that don’t concern how good her cunt feels when she rides you, or how her eyes roll to the back of her head when you hit that spot just right, or the way her voice goes hoarse when she screams your name.

“Oh, it’s so perfect.”  Yujin’s seen your cock before, tasted it, taken it, had it in every way possible (in every place available), yet that still doesn’t stop her eyes from lighting up the second she sees it springing out from the waistband of your briefs, standing tall and throbbing painfully. “I’d say this is worth being late for.”

You’ve got a groan for her when she takes you into her hand, her grip firm and familiar. A half-hearted protest, too: “Yeah, but if we’re late, Princess Yujin gets a slap on the wrist, whereas I get fired.”

Yujin scoffs at that. “Well, I am your boss, so I think I get the last say if it comes down to it.”

Part of you wants to correct her, wants to explain that technically you’re not her employee but an independent contractor hired by the touring company. However, that part of you needs to shut the hell up, because the intricacies of employment contracts for musicians-for-hire really don’t seem pertinent at this moment.

Regardless, it all becomes trivial in the face of Yujin. So annoyingly, unfairly pretty, not even the unflattering harshness of the bathroom lights are capable of marring her in the slightest.

You’d probably give her the world if she asked.

She’d happily settle for your dick.

Her hand’s moving now, her fingers dancing around your shaft, exploring the contours of your cock from base to tip, and she's forcing you to resign, “Your logic, as always, is flawless.”

“See?” Yujin smiles up at you, that wide, confident grin that’s graced a million posters, been on every magazine cover and TV channel, and is now laser focused on you. “I’m always right, aren’t I?”

Her point's made with a squeeze around your length, stroking you in earnest, building to a rhythm that’s become so familiar over the past week—quick and precise, dangerously efficient. Like she was made for this. Made to tease your cock. As natural for her as breathing, really.

Yujin’s had plenty of practice, after all—on the morning of every concert, in the evening back at her hotel, on tour buses and in dressing rooms. On a plane once, even. It's the same torrid routine that’s now become a required pre-show ritual. A quiet spot, a secluded room, and she steals you away, bringing you to the brink and back.

And to think it all started because she asked you to help her ‘calm her nerves’.  

Or more correctly, fuck all the worries and concerns out of her pretty little head.

Still, she's never pushed it this far, never cut it this close.

You lean back against the stall door, your breath catching in your throat, the cheap plastic giving slightly under the pressure. Outside you can hear it, hear the bustling sounds of the venue coming to life—staff moving about, the distant roar of fans, the occasional clang of sound equipment. But in here, it’s overpowered by the noisiness of her palm sliding along your shaft, slick with her saliva, and it fills the small space, echoing across the cold tiles beneath your feet.

She’s undeniable—you know you’ve spoilt her. You’ve let her get her way with you far too many times, let her push this arrangement past any semblance of professionalism. Let her poison your mind with whispered sweet nothings that have you pounding her into the nearest available surface whenever she gets a twitch of stage fright.

But you’re also acutely aware of the fact that without these moments, without the promise of her tight, wet cunt wrapped around your cock, you’d be out there on that stage sleepwalking through just another concert with nothing but a drum kit and a bunch of songs you could play with your eyes closed.

“Fucking hell, Yujin, you look too good doing that,” you manage to get out, doing your best to endure her fingers gliding along your length, to last under the microscope of Yujin's dark, hungry eyes.

Another thing about Yujin: there's a special thrill she gets just from watching you, eyes glued to your face, taking in every single nuance of agony she’s wringing out.

“So fucking—” you settle on the most obvious word in your lexicon, “pretty.”

Yujin keens at the praise, her cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink, her teeth grazes the soft skin of her bottom lip. It's hardly new for her to hear this, to have people rave about how she's the hottest piece of ass this side of the equator. Yet there's something about hearing it from you that has her eating up your words every time. "Am I, now?"

You nod, voice momentarily failing you as she pumps your cock, her grip never wavering, never faltering, like she’s milking you, milking words of adulation from your lips.

You still haven't pinned down exactly what it is about you that unwinds Yujin, that makes her chase you so hard. Maybe it's because you're slightly older, a touch more mature than the usual plastic smiles that try to charm her out of her pants.

Or maybe it's because you said 'no' the first time she sniffed in your direction, and then made her scream 'yes' every time after.

Whatever it is, it has Yujin’s other hand reaching up to fiddle with the choker at her neck, flooding your mind with memories of your hand around her throat, her gagging on your length, her eyes watering while you fuck her face.

“And what about this outfit?” She asks, oh-so-innocently. “You think the fans will like it?”

“Yujin,” you say, like she doesn’t already know the very obvious answer. You’ve seen her in it all—tiny hot pants, tight little bralettes, that fucking leather catsuit. Yujin’s a fucking goddess in anything she wears, even a blind man would burn from the sheer heat radiating from her body. “You look fucking incredible, as always.”

“But?”

“No buts.”

“I heard a ‘but’,” Yujin ponders, her hand still working your cock like it’s her favourite toy. “Like: ‘but the shorts are too short, and everyone’s gonna see my cheeks when I bend over’.”

A blatant invitation to take a glance, to look down, down at those denim shorts so tight against her curves, the fabric stretched so taut that it might split open at any moment. Look down at her thick thighs, the way they flex and release as she jerks you off, every movement making the material cling tighter to her skin, moulding themselves around the outline of her perfect, round ass, those juicy cheeks that you’ve had the honour of spanking and biting and bruising.

“Or is it: ‘but your top is cut too low, your tits are gonna spill right out’?”

She’s drawing your gaze upwards, over that smooth, creamy expanse of skin, her stomach flat and toned, up the thin fabric of her flimsy excuse for a shirt, that dips just enough to tease the tops of her breasts, squeezed together and pushed up by her bra. It's so thin, wrapped so tight around her, highlighting the faint outline of her nipples poking through, already stiffened and calling for your tongue.

“Or maybe it’s: ‘the outfit looks good, looks nice and slutty, but you’d much rather rip it off me and just fucking ruin me like I deserve?'"

Yeah, that’s more like it.

You take that as permission, and reach for the hem of her top, eager to finally see those tits, to feel their warm weight in your palms, to have her stripped and laid bare like she knows you’d love to. But Yujin’s too quick, slapping your hand away with a laugh.

“But unfortunately, there’ll be none of that, drummer boy.” Yujin stops, her grip on your cock tightening for a brief, painful second. “Can’t have you ruining my outfit before I go on stage, can I?”

There’s a challenge there, a test to see if you’ll argue, maybe grab her, throw her against the wall and show her just how little of a fuck you give about anything that takes place outside of this toilet stall. But you know she’s right. You're the adult here, remember? Besides there’ll be plenty of time for that later.

You settle for her lips, leaning down, pressing the pad of your thumb against her chin. You tilt her head up towards yours, only for Yujin to pull back, leaving you kissing air. “Seriously?”

Yujin grins, clearly delighting in denying you again, in making your blood boil and cock throb. “Can’t ruin the make-up either,” she explains, making sure to bat her long, fake lashes for extra effect.

“So, I take it that means the pigtails are off limits too?” You ask, idly toying with the ludicrously slutty hairstyle that’s framing her face, bobbing slightly with every stroke she gives you.

“Now you’re learning.”

So, with a frustrated grunt, you keep your hands at your sides, resigning yourself to Yujin’s sweet torture. It’s maddening, just standing there, panting and so horny, at the mercy of Yujin’s slow strokes. “And no concern for my outfit, whatsoever.”

Yujin’s eyes wander over your choice of clothing, and laughs, rather insultingly, if you're honest. “I’m sure all the fans will be very focused on the drummer’s fashion choices,” she says, trusting you to pick up on the sarcasm.

You feign injury. “Ouch, I put a lot of thought into my clothing.”

“Sure you do. Thoughts like: how easy will it be for your little fuck buddy to tear them off?” Yujin’s thumb finds that sensitive spot just beneath the head of your cock, swiping over it with a smugness that’s both infuriating and incredibly hot.

“You’re going to get it later for that one,” you warn, your hand curling into a fist.

“Oh, I know.”

Yujin picks up the pace, her hand a blur, running up and down your shaft, fingers sliding across your slit, smearing the pre-cum that’s beaded there over your cockhead. And there’s a glint in her eye, that needy look that tells you she’s getting off on this, getting off on having you, having someone she shouldn’t be left alone with, squirm and beg and be so desperate for her.

“Look how big you are for me, daddy.”

There’s that word, that sweet, sweet ‘daddy’.

The first time she called you it was an accident, a slip of the tongue during a particularly intense moment when you had her against the window of her hotel, tits squashed against the glass, cunt dripping with your cum. But every time since, it’s been deliberate, calculated, a button she knows she can push to make you give it to her as rough as she wants; as rough as she craves.

“Look how big you are in my tiny hand.” She’s got you moaning now, melting between her fingers, bucking your hips for that extra bit of friction. “You love it when I jerk you like this, don’t you, daddy?”

‘Daddy’ again, rolling off her tongue like a fucking love letter, a song to send your head spinning and your cock pulsing in her hand.

There’s another challenge, can you last a little bit longer? Can you resist the urge to cum all over her fingers? Paint her pretty nails a fresh shade of white? Or would you rather wrap your hand around her lovely neck and force her to admit that she loves all this just as much as you do.

You swallow down the groan that’s building in your throat, your teeth grinding together to maintain some semblance of control. Yujin catches it, sees the effort it’s taking you, and she shakes her head, her lips pursed in a perfect little pout.

“Don’t hold back, daddy,” Yujin's chiding you, disappointed with your restraint. “I want to hear it. I need to hear how good it feels, how desperate you are. Need you to show me just how much you want to see me filled with your cum.”

She twists her hand down on your cock, squeezing when she reaches the base, her other hand coming down to cup your balls, tickling them with her fingers. That has a moan escaping your lips, a low, desperate sound that makes Yujin preen.

“That’s it,” she’s overjoyed, getting what she came for, basking in your pleasure, “tell me how much you want it, tell me how much you want to cum for me.”

And so you do. You tell her, your voice strained with the effort of keeping your orgasm at bay. Not yet, not until you’re deep inside her, not until you're sure that not a single drop will go wasted. “You're too fucking much, Yujin, too fucking hot,” you manage, the words a choked noise that you hope she can hear over the blood pounding in your ears. “You’re driving me fucking mad.”

Yujin’s strokes keep building, one on top of the other, and she’s pressing herself against you, the warmth of her, soft breasts pushing into your chest, her lips sucking at your neck, kissing into you hard. After all, who will notice? Who gives a fuck if the drummer shows up on stage with a few extra bruises on his skin?  

You fall into the crook of her neck, your forehead on her shoulder, as her lips make their way up your throat, across your jaw, until she’s nipping at your lobe, whispering in your ear, “You’re desperate for my cunt, aren’t you, daddy? You want to fill me up right before I go on stage?”

“Yujin,” you grit out, and you’re holding her, hands on those perfectly round cheeks, holding on for dear life, pulling her close to you so that she can feel just how right she is. The words spill out of you like a confession, “I need to fuck you now, Yujin. I need to feel your cunt, make you cum so hard you won’t be able to fucking move, let alone dance.”

And Yujin leaves one last, lingering kiss on your pulse. “So do it, daddy.”

Her words are a fucking gunshot, and you’re off to the races.

You spin her around so fast she yelps, your chest to her back, your cock trapped between her ass cheeks. Her shorts are barely an inconvenience, yank them down, denim catching on her hips, sliding down to her ankles, leaving her in just her panties.

Yujin gasps, the cool air meeting her bare skin, and she braces herself against the wall of the stall, needing something to keep her on her feet. She’s all soft curves and sweet smells, so insanely proportioned, like she's built for this, curvy and thick in all the right places.

While she’s distracted you sneak a kiss onto the creamy-white skin of her shoulder, hard enough to give her a mark to match yours, a badge of honour that brands her in the same way she’s done to you.

Her panties never stood a chance, completely drenched to the point of ruin, sticky with anticipation, snug against her lips. You pull them aside, thumb brushing against her swollen clit, making her hips jerk forward. She’s on your time now, you’ve got the green light to turn the tables and drag her through the same torment she’s put you through.

“Look at this,” you’re in her ear now, taunting, “you’re already so fucking wet for me.”

Yujin’s cheeks burn red, and she’s pushing back against you, grinding her ass into your cock. “Of course I am. I can’t help it,” she’s a little breathless, a little shaky, “I need it.”

“You’re so beautiful,” your hands like magnets on her bare ass, squeezing, marking her in places only you'll ever know. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Please,” Yujin whimpers, as you slide your finger down, between her legs, tracing her wet slit, testing her tightness, feeling her warmth, feeling how ready she is. “Please, fuck me now.”

You can’t resist her, you never can, not with so little time left and so much of her to ruin. Your cock dips, lining up with her pussy, the tip nudging at her entrance, and all it takes is one strong thrust, and you’re pushing into her, burying yourself to the hilt in a swift, brutal motion.

There’s a scream from her, a grunt from you, blending and echoing through the bathroom, bouncing off the tiles and the stall walls. Someone’s going to hear it, someone’s going to come in and see you fucking the star of the show and that’ll be it for the both of you.

But really, fuck all of that.

Fuck the concert, the venue staff, the fans, the tour managers, the PR nightmare that will follow.

Fuck everything that isn’t inside this stall, that isn’t Yujin’s tight cunt squeezing around your cock, that isn’t the way she’s shuddering in your arms, gasping your name, needing her daddy to fuck her harder, faster.

There's no easing her into it, not like you know you should. You fuck her hard, just like she’s begged. Your hips snap against her ass, the sound of skin slapping skin drowning out the noise outside, again and again, in and out, over and over.

Yujin’s never needed much to get started, always so easily soaked, so easily ready. She'd told you as much one late night (or one early morning): "I can take it, take anything, as long as it's coming from you. "

Her walls clamp down around you, she’s already pulsing, her cunt desperate to wring you dry. You’re gliding in and out of her, using her, letting her mold herself so perfectly around you, her juices coating your cock, making it slicker with every thrust.

“Yes—that’s what I fucking need.” Yujin cries out, her voice high-pitched, her head thrown back, and the flimsy plastic isn’t enough anymore, she needs you to hold her steady, to dig your fingers into her hips and nail her into the wall.

Each stroke, each thrust into her cunt, each time you fill her, stretch her—each one could be the last one, the one that has you exploding inside her. Could be the one that overwhelms you, the one that makes you forget where you are, that there’s anything that exists besides fucking this needy, little brat.

It’s the way Yujin clenches around you, tight and perfect, like she’s made just for you, like she’s never been fucked this way before, will never be again.

(Even though you have. Even though you will.)

Each time is like the first, you’re discovering her all over again, peeling back layers of this beautiful, untouchable idol, and finding something new, something beneath the sheen of purity and perfection. Something that makes you want to ruin her, bring her down to your level, to roll around the filth with the rest of you mere mortals.

And Yujin knows it.

There’s a need to make her feel it, and there’s her fucking pigtails, dangling in front of you like a carrot, flicking up and down in front of your face with every thrust. You need to grab them, to yank her back onto your cock, to force her to take it as hard as you want to give it. It’s almost too much to resist.

But even in your haze you know better. Instead, you settle for that choker on her neck, your thumb sliding under the black leather band, feeling the pulse of her blood racing beneath her skin. You grip it, tight, but not too tight. Just enough to make her gasp, to make her cunt tighten, to make her cry out—

“Gah—God—fuck—”

Strangled cries have her screaming, have her needing you to go deeper.

“Fuh—fuck—yes—right there—right—fucking—there—”

She’s chanting, almost sobbing, doing her best to take everything you’re giving her, everything she’s needs, everything she deserves. You’re tapping into that deep, dark desire within her. The one that gets off on being treated rough, the one that loves having a daddy, the one that needs to be nailed to a wall and reduced to nothing but a shaking, mewling mess of climaxes.

You dare to snake a hand under her top, you’re not going to mess her outfit, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get a taste of what’s underneath. Your fingers stretch under her bra, testing the elasticity of the cotton, before finally finding the swell of her breasts, cupping it, filling your hand with it.

Yujin’s moan is all the encouragement you need, a wordless permit to squeeze, to pinch her nipple, roll it between your thumb and forefinger until it’s a hard little nub.

“Oh fuck yes—touch me. You love touching me, don’t you?” She's feeling it, really feeling you, the stimulation of your palm on her breast, the sting on her nipples. “You fucking love my body.”

It’s the damn truth—these past weeks have been a crash course in Yujin, and you haven’t found an inch you didn’t immediately fall in love with. Every curve and dip and line, every soft place and every sharp edge; the weight of her in your arms, the way she fits against you, how she responds to your touch like she’s been waiting for it, for you, for fucking ever.

“Fuck, yes, just like that, daddy, just like that.”

“You’re so fucking perfect, Yujin. So tight, so wet, so fucking mine.”

You slur words into her, words that make her shiver, make her tremble against you, make her so fucking happy to hear them. It’s the words that she loves, hearing you talk like that, like she’s the only one who can make you feel this way. And maybe she is.

So you keep talking, keep whispering those loving, filthy soliloquies into her ear, keep telling her how good her cunt is, how desperate you are for her body, how much cum you have to give her. And her body has an answer for you each time, each syllable a caress that sends shivers down her spine.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, Yujin. So beautiful when you’re like this, when you’re all mine.” You can feel it boiling up inside you, that pressure building with every smack of your hips against her ass. “I’m going to cum so hard for you, princess.”

There’s the guitar, the bass, the keys, the band tuning up outside, noise filtering into the stall, faint but unmistakeable, the only thing missing is the beat of the drums, the only thing missing is you.

Yujin’s grinning, knowing she’s the one keeping you occupied, knowing it’s her cunt that you’re buried in, that’s not letting you go.

“If only they knew,” she’s giggling like a schoolgirl (she might as well be with those pigtails), “if only they know how good you’re fucking me right now. They won’t have a fucking clue, will they?”

“Such a fucking tease, Yujin.”

She looks over her shoulder at you, and sends a coy, “Who, me?”

“Yes, you, you little slut,” you answer, not bothering to mince your words. Your hand tightens around her choker, not enough to cut off her air, just enough to keep her right there, panting and needy and yours. “You know exactly what you’re doing out there. I see how you dance, how you move. Like you’re forcing them to picture you fucking, making them all want a taste of what they’ll never have.”

The truth makes her shiver against you. “They all wish they could do this to me, all wish they could fuck me and fill me like you are.”

There’s a tension building inside her too, the blend of your words and the reality of the performance she’s going to have to put on afterwards. It has her body tightening like a bow string, ready to snap at any moment.

And you’re going to be the one to release it.

You venture a hand downwards, gracing over her stomach, her belly button, until you reach the wetness of her pussy. There's her clit, ripe for teasing.

You fuck your cock in deeper still, matching the swirl of your finger with the pounding of her cunt, timing it just right to make her leak all over you.

“That feels so—fuck,” Yujin purrs, so, so blissful. “Only you—only you, daddy. No one else will get to have me—fuck—fuck me like this.”

“Whenever I want, any time I want,” you’re telling her, promising her, even though it’s more likely to be the opposite. That it’s Yujin that will seek you out on those lonely nights and those quiet mornings, or just whenever she’s bored and needs someone to fuck all the nerves and stress out of her system.

“They’d be so—gah—so jealous if they knew. I see it when they look at me—how much they want me,” she’s straining to say it, but needs you to hear it, needs you to know it. “I see it—read it in places they think I don’t look.”

She’s lost, lost in a sea of her own musings, thoughts of how everyone with a working pair of eyeballs wants to fuck her. Relishing in the knowledge that she's found the only person that can fuck her right, and that their cock is buried in her cunt, their fingers working her clit.

“They call me a slut, a whore, but that’s not true, is it, daddy? I only fuck you,” Yujin repeats, “I’m only a slut for you.”

There’s an edge to her voice, a raw, animalistic need that makes you want to prove her right. Want to erupt inside her so badly that she’s forced to carry a part of you inside her when she’s on stage.

“Yours to use,” Yujin taunts. “To fuck, to fill...”

Jesus.

“To break.”

Fucking.

“Maybe I should let you rip off my clothes, fuck up my hair—fuck—my makeup. Go out on stage with all the marks you’ve left on me, with all your cum—gah—all over me.”

Christ.

It hits you like a sledgehammer, adding another layer of taboo to this already fucked up situation. The thought of it is fucking wild, ridiculous to contemplate, you’re sure it’s all just part of the game, another button Yujin’s pressing for her own thrill… right?

“Then everyone would know—everyone would know that it’s you—that you’re the one that’s fucking my brains out when no one else is watching.”

You’re all over her and deep inside her, lips on her throat, her jaw, hands at her tits, her cunt. Devouring her, all of her, from those tightly binded pigtails all the way down to her carefully manicured toes.

And then she stops dancing around the subject and demands it.

“Ruin me. Fuck me, please, daddy. Just—kiss me, now.”

“You said—”

But Yujin’s already twisting around at her waist, angling her body so she can seize your lips, smear her lipstick across your teeth, flood your mouth with her tongue. She’s got fistfuls of your shirt, pulling you closer, as if she’s trying to claim you, claim every inch of you as property of An Yujin.

Now that you’ve got permission, you thread your fingers into her hair, gripping tight, pulling her by the pigtails like you’ve been dying to, kissing her like your life depends on it.

You’re getting rougher with her now, tugging her head back, peeling her lips away from yours, sliding your cock out of her. You ignore the whine, ignore the tears. It’s game over for her makeup, for her hair, her outfit. She’s a beautiful, chaotic mess—so shamelessly yours, so perfect in every way.

The separation barely lasts a second, you’re lifting her up, turning her and depositing her atop the toilet seat, spreading her legs wide, putting her on display.

This is the real show—Yujin looking up at you, eyes dark with need, tits out and heaving with every breath; thick, toned thighs glistening with her juices, your precum; and her pussy, all puffy and so ready to be filled again.

“Daddy—” Yujin starts, and ends, as you’re inside her again. Inside her tight, welcoming cunt, her back arching off the cold porcelain, her legs wrapping around you, ankles crossing and locking in place.

Just one hard thrust and you see it—it's in the watering of her eyes, the wobble of her lips.

She’s close, and you’re not far behind.

“Please.”

It’s barely a whisper, nearly lost somewhere between your haggard breaths and the sloppy wet sounds of your bodies colliding.

But you hear it, and it’s all you need.

It’s her pigtails in your hands again, strands wrapped around your fist, and you’re taking a front row seat in the spectacle that is Yujin falling apart.

“Please, fuck me.” There it is again, louder now. “Fuck my tiny little pussy, daddy. Make me yours.”

It’s every single sound out of her mouth, every folding and crumpling of her perfect features, every single drop of sweat sliding down her neck, every time she says fuck me, or break me, or over and over again—make me yours.

You want to savour this, burn this image into your mind, live off the memory of Yujin’s cunt pulsing around you, but there’s no time, no time to do anything but kiss her again; clumsy, hungry, wet, open-mouthed kisses.

“Please,” she’s biting into your lip, licking into your mouth, clawing at your shoulders, “say my name.”

“Yujin,” you give it to her, offer her name like a sacrifice. “Yujin, I’m so fucking close.”

The porcelain is doing its best to bear your weight, to survive the punishment you’re hammering into Yujin’s tight, perfect body, to outlast your relentless fucking. “Cum for me daddy, cum for me.”

But it’s her, it’s Yujin that crosses that threshold first, coming apart until she’s nothing but a mess of whimpers, moans, and cries of your name. Of pleases and thank yous, until she’s just a hot, tight cunt getting used for your pleasure.

“Fuck—fuck—I’m cumming—daddy, I can’t—it’s so—”

It’s all there across her face, all in the way she’s shaking, the way her cunt is gripping you, her walls fluttering around your cock like a fucking heartbeat, tightening and releasing in endless waves that crash down on her.

“So good—you’re so good—you’re so—fuck—fuck—cum—cumming—"

Her entire body seizes, tenses all at once, and you’d be worried if you hadn’t seen it countless times before, if you didn’t know to expect her to lose all control of her limbs, to not be able to do anything but stare at you, all teary eyed and feeling so, so good.

But you keep going, hips pumping, cock driving into her, keeping her steady, helping her climb to her peak, filling her tender, creaming cunt over and over again. You want to make this last, want to keep her like this, unable to think about anything but you, unable to think about anything that isn’t your cock.  

“So fucking good for me, Yujin, so good, princess.”

“God, fuck—daddy!”

It’s the praise that pushes her over, unravels her, has her mouth frozen in the shape of your name, like the idea of you is the only thing keeping her tethered to this world. That, and her nails digging into your skin, adding to the tapestry she’s already engraved on your back.

And then the silence comes, and that’s the real killer.

Yujin’s always loud when she gets fucked, always desperate to tell you how good it feels, needy for you to know how good you are to her. But when she cums—when she loses herself on your cock—it’s like she relinquishes all ability to articulate, to make any sound other than a whine or a gasp.

You know what she wants to say—don’t stop, please, don’t stop—know what she wants to tell you—thank you, daddy, thank you, thank you, thank you—and it’s your responsibility to see her through it, to plunge your cock deep into the smooth, velvety muscles of her cunt, to have her rocking and creaming all over you, again and again and again.

And then she falls apart.

So beautifully, so perfectly.

But you’re not done yet.

Your thrusts come in thick and fast, making the whole stall shudder, making your vision swim. Yujin’s still reeling, snapped back into the land of the living by the force of your fucking.

She’s leaning forward, pressing her forehead to yours, able to form whole words again, whispering something that you can’t quite catch, something sweet and needy and demanding.

“I’m all yours, daddy.”

It’s a trigger she’s been waiting to pull—the moment she says it, you let go.

There’s no holding back anymore, you’ve been fighting it for what feels like hours, trying to keep your shit together, but it’s no use. You’re going to cum, the only question is, where.

You can’t shake the image of her covered with you, painted all over her face, her chin, her neck, her chest, her perfect, perfect tits. You want it, want to see it realised, want to parade her out on that stage looking like a fuck doll—your fuck doll.

But not now, not today.

So instead, you bury yourself inside her, so, so deep. Yujin’s nodding, teasing “deeper, deeper, please,” begging you with her whole body, watching you with those eyes, half-lidded and glazed over, licking at her lips, bracing for you to fill her.

It’s your turn to shake, your turn to let go of that knot in your gut that’s been twisting ever since she dragged you into the bathroom, pushed you into the toilet stall and told you she needed this.

You throb, tighten, the base of your spine tingles, and that’s all the warning you get before you’re cumming, rushing Yujin’s greedy cunt with your hot, sticky load.

“Daddy, daddy—daddy—yes!”

It’s an addiction now, she needs your cum like she needs oxygen, and you need to fill her as if you’ll die if you go another day without pounding her cunt.

“So good, so fucking good inside me—all yours, all yours—"

It’s a thousand blissful little moments stacked on top of each other, her clenching, you throbbing, her grinning, you grimacing, but it all comes together in this heated space that leaves you both boneless, breathless catastrophes.

Yujin’s the first to come down, slumping against you, drooling down your chest, staining your shirt with a sheen of her saliva. Her legs go slack around you, finally letting go of your waist, still shaking in the aftershocks of her orgasm. You can feel your cum leaking from the corners of her cunt, oozing down the inside of her thighs, sliding past her knee, down to her ankles.

A finger under your chin to tilt your head to her, to kiss you. One of those quiet, intimate kisses that will have you spending the night trying to decode its meaning. But, for now, there’s just the salt of her sweat and the sweetness of her lip gloss.

“Thank you, daddy,” Yujin says, so sweetly, so sincerely, and it’s like a knife twisting in your chest.

“Always.”

And slowly, carefully, you’re pulling out of her, even though she’s still clenching, still trying to keep you in. Your cock exits her with an audible slosh, and you need to brace yourself against the stall door, lean into it hard as you take in the sight of Yujin, sprawled on the toilet seat, well fucked and utterly ruined in all the best ways.

She reads your mind, “You really made a fucking mess of me.”

“I only claim fifty percent of that responsibility.”

Yujin pouts, makes sure you’re watching her, and dips her fingers into her defiled cunt. “This is all you, daddy.”

She drags out her digits, holding them up for you, your cum glistening on them like a prize. And then she’s slipping them between her lips, flicking out her tongue to catch a drop that dribbles down her wrist. She licks it all up, slow, savouring it, making sure you’re watching, making sure your eyes are glued to her as she devours the last traces of you from her hand.

That sound she makes, that little “Mmm” of satisfaction has you feeling heady, makes your cock twitch, eager to be back inside her, to fill her right back up so you can watch her do it all over again.

“Cumslut,” is the only word you have her for her, as she slides her fingers in deeper, tickling the back of her own throat like it's the most natural thing to do. Her cheeks hollow out, and after a long, dramatic suck, she pulls her fingers from her lips with a wet pop, all shiny and clean.

She corrects you. “Your cumslut.”

And then a switch is flipped, and she’s putting herself back together.

Yujin’s graceful, at odds with the confines of the cramped bathroom stall she’s just been fucked in. It amazes you every time, the way that she moves. All liquid and soft, as if she’s not really touching anything, as if she’s floating.

She licks droplets of cum off her lips, scoops the remainder up her legs, her thighs, and you’re just staring, gawking at her with something akin to awe, because she’s just so fucking beautiful, so utterly composed, so untouchable.

You help her, you try, help her tug down her shirt, pull up her panties, her shorts, help her slip back into the role of Yujin, the perfect idol, the star that can’t be tarnished by something as dirty as a quickie on top of a toilet seat.

She nods towards the stall door, and you let her past you, help hold her steady as you lead her to the bathroom mirror, give her a chance to assess the damage you've wrought on her. The smudged lipstick, the kiss bruises, the hair sticking to her neck—all evidence of you.

And yet, she smiles, looking back at you over her shoulder. Like she’s got it all under control, like you haven’t ruined her, not really. Not yet.

“Well, that’s something,” she says, her voice a little too breathless for the breeziness she’s aiming for.

But then she’s got her compact out, the tiny bag she's had hidden in her back pocket specifically for occasions like this. You stand back, giving her space to work her magic. Cheeks are patted for colour, lips glossed for plumpness, eyes relined with that dangerously smoky look that makes them pop.

“How do I look?” She turns, looking at you through the mirror, hand on her hip, posing.

“Like you’ve just been fucked in a toilet stall, honestly.”

That makes her laugh. “Good.”

She’s heading to the door, smoothing out her skirt, fixing her top, stopping along the way to give your forearm a quick squeeze.

There’s that look in her eyes again.

One you’ll be revisiting once the show’s over and the doors are closed.

“I’ll take off first,” she says, tying her pigtails back in place. “Wouldn’t want to make it too obvious.”

You catch her hand before she can get away, pulling her face close to you, wiping away a stray bit of cum still shining on her chin. “Good luck out there.”

And there’s that smile. That smile that’s going to make an audience of thousands fall in love with her. That’s going to make you fall in love with her, if you’re not careful. “Don’t need it,” she says, pressing her lips to yours, ruining her lip gloss all over again. “I got you, daddy.”

[strangled-mangoes]

this reminded me that when i was in preschool, we'd see blimps A LOT.

because there was a tour company nearby & their flight path went over our school :)

and we'd be playing in the yard, doing whatever. climbing on the play-structure, crawling in the sand pit. and then a kid would shout,

"BLIMP!"

and all our little toddler heads would turn to the great, big, blue sky, and see that one, little, white blimp make its way across. and we'd all shout,

"BLIMP!"

and point at it, and scream, and laugh..

blimps don't fly over that preschool anymore. the tour company shut down. blimps and zeppelins are just vessels of the past. and though i never rode one, i remember the unbridled joy i got, seeing one in the sky.

thanks for reminding me of this. i love blimps. theyre like fat airplanes. seals of the sky, if you will

autism is so funny because it's like. here's a thousand little inconveniences for you to suffer and a thousand little things you dont know about yourself that will nonetheless make people hate you. in exchange: you get to be one of the few people in the 21st century who still thinks zeppelins were a pretty cool way to get around actually :)

[theyamwizard]

sometimes I peek into RateMe reddit subs just to see what straight people are up to and its WILD bc there'll be like 10 guys in a row that I would love to bite and they're all getting 2-5 ratings and then theres a guy who's the physical manifestation of the name Jason with comments saying "definitely a 9. incredible bone structure"

[hearteyedpup]

OUGH TED LASSO IS KILLING ME SLOWLY

[asexualjedi]

Ran into my property teacher after my civ exam yesterday and (the property exam is Wednesday and our last one and we all think it’s gonna be the hardest one bc it’s completely closed book not like cheat sheet or anything allowed) and he said to make sure I didn’t spend the whole weekend studying and to relax some this weekend so I did. And I spent today deep cleaning my room and I speckled over the messed up drywall and struggled BUT eventually was able to drill in the screws to hang up my light saber on the wall and I’m truly so happy it. Looks so clean and nice in here I reorganized and like crawled on the flower and dusted everything and then mopped and I truly think like I’ve very tired but this was so good for my mental health. I keep looking around mt room and smiling like. Truly the dusting makes everything look so clean

[tjwritesfanfics]

I’m not jealous (Aaron Hotchner)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: Aaron was going to show you how not jealous he is.

Rating: Mature 18+ only

Warnings: Jealous Aaron (though he is adamant he isn't), Reader taking advantage of a sweet guy, manhandling, Dom!Aaron, condescending, being called good girl (which made me MELT), Aaron spanks her once, fingering, overstimulation, Aaron is a sweet aftercare guy

Words: 2.9k

Main Masterlist | Criminal Minds Masterlist

Jealousy can be very ugly.

It can also be very hot. And on Aaron Hotchner it was sexy as hell. The way his jaw clenched, his eyes darken, and the air around him just got thick with tension you knew about, but the line was never crossed.

You had feelings for Aaron, everyone in the BAU knew it, he knew it, and he still had yet to decide what, and if, he felt for you.

You always tried to push him, loving the way he seemed so close to losing it only to watch him attempt to reel himself in. Once you had danced with a guy at the bar after a long case and your eyes never left Aaron. No matter how many times the guy dipped his head to kiss (more like slobbered with how drunk he was) your neck, you continued to stare at him, surprised that the glass he was holding didn’t break with the force of his grip, his knuckles already white.

And when you decided you were done with your dance partner, you attempted to leave only to have him get aggressive. You knew you could fit him off if need be, but it was much more satisfying when Aaron strode over and introduced him to that amazing right hook of his.

It was even better when he took you roughly by the waist and led you out of the bar.

In his car, you tried to push a little more, wanting him to finally admit something to you.

“God,” You sigh and brush your hand down his arm, admiring the way they flex under your touch, “You are so hot when you are jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“There is no need to deny the chemistry between us, Aaron. We aren’t on the clock so you aren’t my Unit Chief, and I am not your underling, though I would so love to be under you.” You purr, warmth flooding your as his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, your eyes following the motion longingly.

It would be easier if he would just give in to what was going on between the two of you.

But sadly, that was where the night ended for you.

Aaron took you back to your apartment, walked you up (like the gentleman he was), and left you there all alone.

Over the next few months you tried again and again to prove there was something between you, not only physically, but emotionally as well.

Pulling him out of his office for lunch or bringing it to him, just to make sure he would eat. Putting sticky notes on his monitor or his desk with little encouragements and reminders since you knew he could get too far into his own head and needed some help out.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t do things for you.

Bringing you coffee, made just to your liking, at the beginning of the shift or when you run low on your own coffee. He always seemed to know when you needed your fix. He also would save you a seat on the plane, the one next to the window because he knows you like to look out at the clouds during long flights.

“When we land, Y/n, Reid and I will go to the police station to set up. Morgan, you and Emily check out the crime scene.”

Aaron dished out the rest of the orders as the plane started to descend. Honestly after he told you where you were going to be, which of course was with him because he always seemed to think he needed to keep an eye on you, something you couldn’t decide if was out of how similar your skill sets are or because he has a constant need to be near you, you stopped listening.

You were certain that it was both. You knew Aaron wouldn’t sacrifice the case or the people involved just for a romantic feeling towards you.

Once you landed and got to the police station, everything seemed to flash by in a whirlwind.

You barely had any time to focus on anything other than catching the asshole that was killing women.

“You seem to be running into the ground, Agent.”

Officer Danny Grant was such a little cutie and seemed to immediately take a liking to you.

“I’ll rest when we catch this guy.” You reach for your cup of awful cop coffee, even though it was the only thing keeping you going at the moment, but frowned when you found the cup empty.

Cursing, you turn away from the board to get more.

“Here.” Grant offered you another cup, his face a little flushed and a smile on his lips. “I noticed you were low. I don’t know how you take it so I just made it black. If you need any creamer or sugar I can get it for you.”

“Thanks, Grant.” You smiled and took the cup. The warmth of it not only warming your hands, but your heart a little as well. Usually Aaron would bring you coffee, but this case seemed to take a toll on him, which you remind yourself you would have to check on him later. Now that someone else noticed and cared enough to bring you something so small, yet so vital, was sweet.

You take a sip of the black coffee, wishing it was sweeter, but the jolt of bitterness was the wake up you needed.

“I usually like it sweet, but black is fine. It’s just what I need.”

Grant continued to stick to your side, helping with the case whenever he could and bringing you more coffee (this time with a side of sugar). He was actually very helpful and you enjoyed the company of him, conversation and ideas bouncing easily.

Aaron on the other hand didn’t like the attention you were getting from the young, wide eyed officer.

He couldn’t stand the fact that he was distracting you from the case at hand (even though he wasn’t actually), the way you laughed when he said something you deemed funny, but it wasn’t, and the thing he hated the most was the smile you beamed at him when he brought you more coffee.

The smile you usually only gave him. Why were you giving it to this guy? Even when the group went out and you flirted with other men, knowing that it would get a rise out of him (though he would never admit it out loud) you never gave them that kind smile, the one that made your nose scrunch up so adorably.

It would be so easy for Aaron to go over there. He can imagine himself pulling you away from Grant. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how you felt pressed against his own body. The amount of nights he had to pull himself away from you, unable to cross that line, the line between boss and subordinate. A line that he’s tiptoed since the first time he saw you.

If only it was that simple to give into you.

A few hours later, you could feel your steam running out and your eyes drooping, no matter how much coffee you drank.

“There hasn’t been any new information.” Aaron’s voice woke you just before your head hit the conference table for the second time that night, “Let’s call it a night and look at this in the morning with fresh eyes.”

“No no,” you whine, failing to lift your eyelids, “I can keep going.”

“Agent Hotchner is right. Come on, let's get you to the hotel.”

Just as Grant reached for you, Aaron was quick to his feet, striding over to you with only a few steps and grabbing your shoulder before Grant could. “I have her.” Aaron lifted you up, one hand resting under both of your legs and the other on your back, smirking at Grant as you wrap your arms around his neck and snuggle into him.

The look of shock on the officer’s face was sickeningly satisfying.

Never would Aaron be this bold, especially in front of others, but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn't just let this man touch you. Not after spending all day watching his poor attempts at flirting.

You could, and probably would, be upset with him tomorrow.

Aaron lifted his chin, daring others to say anything as he made his way through the precinct with you tucked in his arms. Once you were outside, you push your face into his neck subconsciously, inhaling his scent and sending a shiver through him, thankful that at least some part of you waited until you were out of sight to get clingy with him.

“You are,” You yawn, lips brushing against his skin,”so hot when you are jealous.”

“I am not jealous.”

All you did was hum in response as you drift off to sleep in his arms.

For the rest of the case you stuck to Grant every chance you got, barely paying Aaron any attention.

He knew you were doing it on purpose. You knew he knew that you knew you were doing it on purpose.

Thankfully the team was able to wrap up the case and it was only one night left before you left.

No more case. No more reason to stay in California. No more Grant.

Aaron wonders if he should be as happy as he was as he pressed the button for your floor on the elevator. He doesn’t have much time to think about it when a minute later the elevator door opens and he sees Grant standing at your door, leaning against the open door with you.

“So now that the case is over, do you want to get dinner before you leave? I’m sure hotel food isn’t as good as a good burger at this little dive I know down the street.”

You giggle at his forwardness. While you do love and want Aaron, turning down a free meal from a cute man before you never see him again couldn’t hurt, right?

“You know a little dive? Is it a ‘California delicacy?’”

Grant leaned in, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Oh absolutely.”

Rage and jealousy flows through Aaron, his jaw and fists clenched. His legs carried him towards you before his brain could catch up.

No more games.

In a flash, Aaron grabbed Grant by the collar of his shirt, yanking him back and away from you.

“A Aaron?!” You squeak as the man pushes you into your hotel room, closing and locking the door behind you.

His hands grab your wrists, tugging and trapping them above your head, the air leaving you completely as his lips crash against yours.

The months and months of tension finally exploded within you, arching your hips to meet him, gasping when he grips your wrists tighter in warning.

“You really can’t resist flirting can you?” Aaron’s voice may have been calm, almost bored, but his eyes betrayed the fire, the anger he held. “You just love to rile me up.”

“I thought,” you moan when he moves to kiss your neck, “you weren’t jealous.”

His laugh is condescending, one of his hands snaking down to your side while the other held tight. This was the Aaron Hotchner you wanted, the one you knew he could be if you just pushed right, but now that he was here you didn’t quite know how to handle him.

Not that you would let him know. Not as your body shivers when he rests his hand on your waist, nails digging through the material of your jeans.

“You and I both know I am not. Why be jealous when your body is so truthful with me? It tells me everything,” His smirk widens as he cupped your cunt and you whine, subconsciously grinding against his hand, seeking the dull pleasure you could get through the two layers of fabric separating you, “I need to know. It is an open book for me.”

You want to cry when Aaron withdraws from you, only proving his point further. God you want him. More than absolutely anything.

“Now be a good girl and get on the bed. I want you naked and on all fours by the time I get out of the bathroom.”

“T The bathr…” Your words die on your lips when Aaron gives you a pointed stare, one that has you clenching around nothing, before he walks away from you and into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar, almost as if daring you to disobey him.

As much as you wanted to, just to see what he would do to you, you decided that would be for a different time. Quickly shedding your top and jeans, you obey like the good girl you want to be for him.

You wait for what feels like an eternity, but was probably only five minutes before you could hear Aaron’s footsteps coming out of the bathroom. Instinct has you turning your head to look at him, “Don’t you fucking move.” but his harsh voice has you snapping it back and a shiver running down your spine.

Or was that his fingers that danced along your back? Honestly you didn’t know, but you didn;t have time to ponder it before he splayed his open palm across one of your ass cheeks, drawing back and coming down with a swift smack.

You moan, the sudden motion causing you to fall forward, your arms giving out.

“Just a little taste of what happens when you play with me.” Aaron rubbed the spot where you were sure was going to be slightly red from the force. “But I won’t give you more since you seemed to follow my orders like such a good girl.”

A whine escapes you at his words. You wanted to hear them over and over. To be praised by him over and over. His fingers ghost from your ass straight to your center, pressing and feeling, but never fully sinking into you.

“Oh fuck,” You squirm under his carful attention, “Please. Please Aaron!”

“Please what? How will I know what you want without words?”

You cry as the tip of his finger comes dangerously close to your clit only for him to pull it away just as quickly. You knew what he was doing. He was teasing you just like you had teased him, almost like a form of sick payback, and though he did have the upper hand, you felt like you had already won.

You had him in bed.

“Please touch me, Aaron. I need your hands on me, in me, anything.”

“There we go.” 

The reward for your confession was sweet. His fingers circled your clit, applying the right amount of pressure that had you moaning loudly. Aaron continued to work you, leaving your brain in a haze of pleasure which only intensified when he finally moved to sink one finger into your core.

“Fuck..” Aaron curses, his finger setting a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you, admiring the embarrassingly wet noises your cunt makes. “You are so wet.”

You moan when he slides a second finger in, then a third, the stretch burning oh so deliciously.

He’s got you at his mercy, hips rocking back to meet his thrusts, drool pooling on the hotel sheets below you. “Aaron!” You cry, the coil in your gut pushing and pushing you closer to the edge, threatening to break and toss you into a sweet release.

“Let go.”

With his permission, and his fingers brushing that sweet spot that made you see stars, you do.

You scream as your orgasm crashes into you. If the outside could hear you, you didn’t care. All that mattered was Aaron, his name the only thing occupying your mind and the only thing spilling out of your mouth as if it was the only name you knew.

And right now it was.

Aaron continued to thrust his fingers into you, helping you through your orgasm until you tried to pull away from him, but his other hand gripped your waist, pulling you back and onto his fingers.

“Aaron!” You squirmed. It was too much, but you didn’t want him to stop as his fingers expertly stroked and thrust, bringing you to a second orgasm in record time. Tears prick your eyes, your body shaking, feeling weightless and not here.

You didn’t even notice when Aaron carefully turned you on your back, brushing your hair back from your face and kissing your forehead. He treated you like procaline, peppering kisses all over your face until you came back to him. “There’s my girl.”

His girl. The thought had you smiling like a lovesick fool, which was appropriate because you were. No longer were the steel eyes and lustful gaze, but soft brown eyes filled with an adoration you weren’t used to seeing. You swallow and reach for him. Aaron wrapped you in his arms and held you close.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Now what? Was he going to continue? Fuck you? Or, and something you hoped he wouldn’t do, leave you.

Aaron, the ever brilliant profiler he was, could see the war going on in your head before you could speak. He leaned down to kiss you, hand gently rubbing shapes on your upper thigh.

“Don’t worry. I will be right here for more when you wake.”

You feel a little guilty about not returning the favor, but Aaron quickly shuts that down. He grabs the hotel comfort and pulls it up, covering the two of you, tucking you into his chest. Your eyes feel heavy from the force of cumming twice (and Aaron’s skilled fingers) that you couldn’t seem to argue, eyes closing as sleep takes over.

You definitely would make him feel good when you wake up.