#in my defense i got barely any sleep last night so my brain is!!! not working well at the moment!!!!

[jobazzle]

🫂🫂

i do not fully understand what this means but 🫶

[scaredcrab]

A farewell kiss (Oneshot)

Character: ☼ Wukong x Reader

✐ Summary: Wukong stubbornness lead you to danger. You ask for one kiss before you die.

✐ Category: Angst. Romance.

✐ Word Count: 1085

Link to read in AO3: Here.

(This is JTTW Wukong, so you can imagine any Wukong you want to.)

-✐-☼-✐-☼-✐-☼-✐-☼-✐-☼-✐-☼-✐-☼-

It was the last event between you two. It happened long time ago, when everyone were camping at a mountain.

"Wukong! I-I mean... Majesty, would you really consider accepting my courting if I went to that cave with stone fruits to gather some for you to dinner?"

You two had the innocent habit of playing around, competing against each other and challenging one another. Obviously, when you were challenged, things were much more difficult for you than when he received a bet, which made everything more fun in his point of view.

Sometimes the simian would purposely lose those bets you "made him" accept, this would happen when your reward was also interesting to him. Like the countless times when you would compete a race to some point, and he would have to groom your hair if he lost. Wukong would let you have a "heads start", and somehow something in the route would distract him, causing his loss.

Since only you and him were awake to hear the conversation, he promised that yes, he would start going out with you if such gift were delivered.

Normally in this kind of challenges the Tang monk would get in the way saying how cruel it is to take advantage of people's feelings like that, and how he only wouldn't use the crown to lecture the bad monkey because you would cry every time you heard the sage's pain. You didn't want to be the reason why Wukong felt pain, and the monk respected your wishes.

"Really? Will you really start dating me?" - Your voice started to raise with excitement, and that made the people sleeping in the camp start to move.

"Shhhhhh! Yes, this old monkey can assure you that once you came back, I'm going to be your partner or whatever. Just don't take too long, or I'll have to go out look for you. Your king demands your return in 13 minutes, did you hear me?" - Despite the rude speech, his cheeks burned with the thought of you two finally getting together.

It was his manner of saying "Take care of yourself".

You knew him well, he was terrible admitting his romantic feelings since he never felt something like this before, still, it was clear that as time went on the senseless distrust he had about you got turned into a fiery love that he considered difficult to bear.

Wukong always got defensive when anyone else threatened to steal your attention, he hated it when he had to allow you to go off alone to explore any village they passed as your beauty was easily noticed by any citizen with a functioning brain, it was normal for him to have to control his anger, so he wouldn't hurt any idiot who came to flirt with you.

But as you said every time the monkey lost control and said outrageous things to people trying to charm you, "If you're jealous, don't scare others off with bad behavior, just admit that you love me, so you can tell them to go away saying that I'm already yours.".

That always silenced him, his pride spoke louder at these times, if it weren't for this dumb reluctance, things could have been different.

You were smart, but your love for him blinded you at times. You both believed that the cave was safe, not knowing that at night a dangerous creature visited the place.

Rather than getting to check you in 13 minutes, he waited a bit longer wishing for you to win...

"May I have at least one kiss?"

For the first time in the king's life, he experienced the feeling of having his mouth above someone's else lips, as he never thought this was something to be wanted before.

He doomed himself to eternal longing for the softness of that delicate touch.

Helplessly you held your fingers at the side of his face, weak digits that barely did their job in maintaining the man in place, but they could feel the warmth of the thin cascade running through them.

Slowly the thumb brushing against the sage's cheek slid from that position, losing all the heat while it gradually fell.

When the water filled eyes of the warrior got to look at your facade he saw a smile, a gentle and sweet smile, to him that moment was a sad goodbye, to you, it was your first and last kiss, a bittersweet happiness.

Your closed eyelids accompanied by the soft grin brought a vision of peace, it was like the soul were in fact asleep, stuck in a brief dream, instead of living in the realm of the death.

He was alone now.

"Wukong! Where are you?! Did you find our friend?" - The monk cried in the distance.

... His name, he would never hear you calling by his name, ever again.

Wukong remained quiet, feeling stupid for not allowing you to approach him in the way you wanted… In the way he also wanted, but never got the courage to admit.

He wanted to throw up, knowing the reason you got to that cave in the first place. If instead of making those games to be your lover he had admitted his feelings, you would still be alive in his arms.

"... Please, come back. I… I never said to you how I feel..."

Worried about Wukong, Xuanzang commanded his second disciple to go where the older student is supposed to be.

Obeying the master's commands, Bajie went to the top of the mountain and entered its cave. There lying on the floor was the lifeless body of a scary monster, alongside a broken king covered in blood with his lost love in his arms.

"You stupid monkey! Look at what you have done!" - With a broken heart, the pig insulted his older brother.

Wukong remained quiet, only giving a touch in your forehead with his, then sliding his face to give a kiss where he touched earlier.

The pilgrims were obligated to bury the poor victim, they choose a nearby tree that flourished the prettiest flowers to be the place where your gravestone would be. That night, the Earth lost part of their brightness, and the sky gained a new star.

After that, the local population says that every year at the spring is possible to see a sad event. At the top of the highest mountain of that region, next to the oldest tree located there, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven crying at this tiny tomb.

[blairsanne]

Boonies - 2 - Domestic

For the @deanobingo 2023 event!

Part 1 here

Prompts: Will Johnson - Masturbation, Chest fur - Dimples, Cleaning up a mess.

Wanted - Will Johnson x female Reader 3562 words

Summary: Will spends the day tearing out your old fence despite still having some questions about what kind of person you are. Things get a little hot and heavy, and Will ends the night unsure once again.

CW: 18+ Alcohol consumption, discussion of potential acts of violence, masturbation.

Will woke slowly, the scent of hot coffee mixing with the slightly dusty, soapy aroma of the sheets. He looked around the small room and remembered where he was; an unintentional guest to a strange foreign woman he couldn’t suss out.

You hadn’t murdered him in his sleep, which was promising, though his brain immediately began running through hypothetical scenarios that weren’t likely to come to pass.

He cleaned up in the ensuite, giving himself a good look in the mirror. It had been a rough few days before landing on your property, and a strange and confusing day once he had. He felt stronger after some solid meals and plenty of rest, and he was less on edge now, despite your uneasy parting the night before.

He smacked his cheeks, psyching himself up to face you again, then got dressed and followed the smell that promised a welcome dose of caffeine down the hallway.

While he made his way, limping just slightly as he favored his uninjured leg, he saw you walk into the dining area carrying a thick book in front of you in a strange way, eyes cast down ahead of you. 

He slowed his approach to see what you were doing. Hiding in the doorway, he watched as you carefully positioned the book before letting it fall to the floor with a thud. You yelped, but stepped on top of it, smooshing it back and forth on the floor.

“Not a good read?” he quipped, trying not to laugh.

You turned, face contorted and eyes wet. “I really hate spiders.” You picked up the book and presented the guts-smeared cover of the dictionary to him.

He laughed then. “That’s disgusting.” “I know, they’re so gross,” you whined.

He shook his head, thinking that wasn’t what he meant, but let it go as you went about cleaning off your book.

“Bad luck living out here, then.” “I’m working on it! I barely freaked out this time,” you argued defensively as you went to put the book back on the shelf.

You stepped into the kitchen proper to pour yourself some coffee, automatically pulling out two mugs.

“Did you sleep alright?” you asked lightly, trying to put the awkwardness of your last conversation in the past, though you felt the tension undercutting your interaction.

He stepped into the room and made his way to the counter to lean against it, facing you. He ran his tongue over his teeth, nodding.

“Yeah, ta. Much better than the coop.”

You couldn’t look him in the eye, remembering how you’d hurt him. “Good. Rest is important when you’re healing.”

You prepared his coffee the same way he’d requested the day before and passed it to him without ceremony before preparing your own.

Will watched you quietly, finding this side of you in stark contrast to the threatening, fearless tone you’d held the night before.

“Right. Need to heal quickly so I can get out of your hair.” You frowned. “That’s not what I’m getting at.”

He winced, realizing you’d taken offense. “I didn’t mean to- Sorry. I appreciate the help.”

“I’m sorry too.” You glanced over at him as you took a tentative sip of your drink. “About last night. I shouldn’t have hurt you like that, but-” You huffed. “Well I let you into my home and then you sort of threatened me.”

Will nodded. “No, I deserved it,” he agreed, voice soft and low with regret. “You’ve been awfully generous, and I shouldn’t be rude like that-” “It’s fine,” you interrupted. “I get what you were trying to say. It’s good to be careful. Thanks for worrying over me.”

There was a tense moment as you both assessed the other to see if there was any threat left between you. Will knew he had the advantage in size and weight, so he forced himself to relax his shoulders.

“Seems like maybe I don’t need to.” There was a twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes as he smiled. “Spider killer.”

You snorted and shook your head, then took a long drink of your coffee.

“So…” You shifted, and Will picked up on your nerves. “Since you’re staying-” You glanced at his expression briefly, hoping he wouldn’t argue. “I should let you know that I’ll be out at the market tomorrow. You’re welcome to come. Or not. Whatever you like.”

He sucked in a breath, narrowing his eyes at you teasingly. “You’ll leave me all alone? What if I make off with your chickens while you’re out?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you understood that he was once again chiding you for trusting him. “I’ll send Pete after you. Figure with your bum leg, you won’t get too far. Plus the chickens are unruly.”

Will nodded, grinning as he played along. “Fair dues.” He sipped his coffee. “So you’re going shopping?”

“No, no. I have a table. To sell preserves and eggs and whatever-” you waved your hand dismissively, though his brows raised in interest. “It’s just a weekly farmer’s market, so it’s a few hours in the morning and then I’ll be back. But I thought it would be rude to just go without telling you, or inviting you, so… yeah.”

So yeah, Will thought, amused by your behaviour once more, though confused how you were the same person who’d stared him down after grabbing at his infected wound.

“Can I ask you something?” he hedged, narrowing his eyes.

You swallowed, once again noticing how handsome he was, his scrutiny making you squirm. “Mm, shoot.”

“When you grabbed my leg… What were you planning on doing if I attacked you in return?”

You held his gaze as you took a sip of coffee. “If I told you that, I’d lose the element of surprise. You’d know how to counter me.”

“I could do that anyway.” “Oh?”

It was almost alarming how casually he replied, voice soft despite the topic at hand.

“Sure, I could have pushed you to the floor; pinned you down. I’ve got rope and knives in my pack. I could have gone into your room while you were sleeping; you wouldn’t have even seen it coming.”

He shrugged, as if to imply those were just a few examples off the top of his head; and in truth they were. He’d ruminated for hours on how to take you out if he needed too.

You nodded slowly, never looking away as he spoke. “Sure.”

His brow furrowed at your cool demeanor.

“But, you know, Will… There’s a difference between things you could do and things you would do.”

He licked his lips and shifted, gripping the counter behind with one hand. “You don’t think I would hurt you.”

“Do you?” “Sort of depends?” “On?” “If you gave me a reason?”

He swore the smile you flashed him then was flirtatious. “Better not give you a reason then.”

“Or you might drop a book on me?”

You snorted, then turned to your cupboard, pulling out various supplies. “Nah, I only kill unwanted houseguests.”

“You’re saying you want me?”

You were happy not to be facing him, sure that an honest answer would be inappropriate. It was really unfair how handsome and charming you found him, considering that he didn’t actually live around here. Might be nice, though.

He caught the smile you gave at his question, but you didn’t reply, instead focusing on whatever internal recipe you were putting together.

Your body language was relaxed now, your back to him as you worked, and he supposed you felt like the conflict had been resolved - though Will wasn’t as sure.

You were hard to read and self-confident, and he wondered if you really could be as dangerous as you’d made yourself out to be; in that moment, you sure didn’t look it. You looked like a harmless housewife measuring flour into a bowl.

He let his eyes wander your form while you weren’t looking. Well, maybe a bit fitter than a housewife.

“I’m making waffles,” you announced. You turned to look at him over your shoulder. “You hungry?”

A slow smile brought out his dimples before he nodded. “Starved.”

--

Soon you were sitting across from him once again at the dining table, stealing glances at him while you ate and spoke. He was telling you about Dunedin, but you were distracted by thoughts of running your hand through his scruffy beard that he kept scratching at.

“And then there’s the tours, of course. Could take you hunting.” He looked up from his nearly-cleaned plate and winked.

You let out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Not sure how fruitful that would be. I’m useless with guns.”

He smirked. “So are most tourists. That’s what the guide’s for.”

You could imagine it easily; some haughty suit going out on a hunting trip to brag about to the boys back home, only to have Will do the actual hunting. Or him wrapping his arms around you to help you aim the gun, his warm body pressing against your back…

“Hm. Sounds like fun.” “Can be,” he nodded, putting his fork down after finishing his meal. “Plus it pays the bills.”

You nodded. His lack of a nine-to-five explained why he wasn’t in a bind to get back to Dunedin by any particular day, and how he was able to go trekking in the wops without concern until he was injured.

Maybe he could just stay here and be eye candy…

Will brushed his hands off against each other and looked at you expectantly. “So, where do you want me?”

You choked a bit, then looked at him with confusion. “Sorry?”

He smiled, guessing internally at what you thought he’d meant. He would have been happy to indulge any prurient suggestions, but was trying to be respectful.

“I’m eating you out of house and home, figure you should put me to work.”

“Right.” He can’t sit still.

“Your fence needs heaps of repairs. And there’s still loads of wood to chop in that shed.”

“Honestly, Will, whatever you feel like doing. Help yourself to tools and supplies and have at ‘er. Just don’t mess up your leg, deal?”

“You’re just giving me free reign? That’s risky.” “Why? You gonna make the fence worse? That might actually be impressive.”

He laughed. “What if I hurt myself again, eh? For all you know I’m very clumsy.”

You doubted that. His fitness level and the intensity in his eyes at times definitely indicated otherwise, as did his supposed hunting prowess.

“You strike me as pretty careful, actually.”

He gestured at his injured leg. “And yet here we are.”

“Hey, I’m perfectly happy to loaf around on the couch with you. You’re the one who wants to be put to work.”

He squinted, tilting his head as he stared at you, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“What?” “You’re an odd chick.”

You laughed brightly, then nodded as you got up. “You have no idea.”

--

Later that day, you stepped out your back door to see Will a ways off, digging a rotten fence post out of the ground. 

Despite the mild weather, he was topless, the afternoon sun glistening off his warm skin and in the soft flaxen curls that decorated it. You watched his muscles ripple with the effort as he finally freed the grey wood from the soil. 

He tossed it into a pile, noticing your approach in his peripheral as he did so. He wiped his brow and gave you a short upward nod in greeting.

“Take a break?” you suggested, holding up the tray you were carrying.

“Mean as.”

He followed you to the picnic table nearby, sitting down with a grunt, chest still heaving slightly as he caught his breath.

He grinned as you passed him a cold beer, already open, barely pausing to thank you before taking a long sip from the bottle. It was some foreign brand he’d never seen before, but it tasted perfect.

“You don’t need to work so hard,” you chided him softly, not ungrateful despite your concern that he was overdoing it.

He waved off your comment. “Nah, this is good.”

“If you say so.”

You passed him a bowl of the lunch you’d prepared, then sat down opposite him to dig in to your own.

“What’s this?” he asked, licking his lips at the smell of the strange dish.

“Cheddar and potato pierogies, pan-fried sausage, sauteed onions, and fresh herbs. I like mine with sour cream, but I put yours on the side just in case.”

Will was vaguely aware what a pierogi was, but couldn’t think of a time he’d ever eaten one. He glanced your way to see you putting together a forkful with a bit of everything. “You made pierogies. For lunch.”

“Well, I made them a while ago and froze them. I just cooked them up for lunch.” You looked over to him with a slight pout. “Too heavy? I could whip up a salad if you-”

“No, I just-” He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “I think maybe you’re feeding me too well, considering.” He took a bite of the pierogi and was pleasantly surprised by how comforting it was.

“Considering you’re redoing my fence for fun on a bum leg?” You winked at him before turning your attention back to your meal. “I think we’re square. Besides, you need energy to heal.”

“Or you’re just trying to make me fat so I’ll lay up like you suggested.”

When you laughed, he joined you, relaxing into his seat at the table.

He looked off over the expanse of your land idly as he continued to eat, chest light as he pictured your summers here, picking fruit and chasing the chickens. 

You watched him subtly, noting how at ease he looked for once, the sun behind him creating a halo effect around the edges of his unruly, raked-back hair. The stray tips that curled away shone gold in the light, reminding you of warmer weather along with his bared torso. You imagined him on the beach in the hot weather, coming out of the surf in only trunks and smiling at you with those piercing blue eyes and disarming dimples.

He’ll be gone by then. 

--

After dinner, Will excused himself to take a shower.

He’d managed to dig out a large section of the rotting fence, which had gotten him covered in a layer of sweat and dirt. As the water ran over his pleasantly tired muscles, he let out a content sigh. The work had assuaged some of his guilt over staying with you, and taken his mind off of gun and knife fights for a few hours, but alone and naked, other ideas were coming back.

He’d been trying not to be obvious about it, but he’d been taking every opportunity to look at you today; at first out of caution, then increasingly out of carnal interest. 

It wasn’t just that you were the only woman around, or that it had been a few weeks since he’d indulged in a quick root to ease his frustrations. There was something about you that drew him in like a flytrap; sweet and enticing, yet dangerous somehow. 

He had every faith that you really believed you could handle him if he tried something; and every faith that you were incorrect. Still, that tenacity was attractive in its own way, and he thought back to your charming smile as you’d joked that you shouldn’t give him a reason to hurt you.

But it wasn’t hurting you that he had in mind now. As he imagined his hands on you, it was to peel you out of your clothes; pin your wrists above your head; lift you up against a wall to have his way with you.

He wondered what you’d feel like. Were you the sort to sigh and melt under a man’s touch; soft and weak to the pleasure? Were you ardent? Would you grip at his hair and dig your nails into his skin as he fucked you? Would you scream his name and beg for more? 

He gripped his hard dick and pressed his other hand to the shower wall, letting the water cascade over his head as he pumped. It wasn’t as good as being inside someone, but as he imagined your mouth there instead, he still felt the usual build of pleasure, panting heavily as he tried to keep quiet.

He hissed as he felt his need growing, the mental images of having his way with you in various positions all overlapping as his hand moved faster.

“Fuck…” he growled under his breath. 

He shut his eyes and pursed his lips to stifle his groan as he found his release, his hot seed painting the shower wall.

--

Not long later, Will paused in the kitchen doorway, watching as you kneaded dough by hand on the countertop.

You had a tote half-full of various items on the dining table that he assumed was for the market.

“No dessert today?” he teased, stepping toward you.

You turned to see him smiling at you with his hands in the pockets of the robe he had on, your eyes drawn to the fresh bandage he’d put on his leg.

You were starting to get the distinct impression that the man didn’t like wearing clothes. Not that I mind you walking around mostly-naked. You had half a mind to suggest that he didn’t need the robe, but you remembered your manners.

“What do you want for dessert?”

He laughed. “I was just taking the piss.”

You went back to kneading. “I do take requests.”

He walked around to the other side of the counter to face you as you worked. “No need, really.”

“Oh, you don’t like my cooking?”

“God, it’s awful!” he agreed jokingly.

You laughed, and looked up from the dough to see him grinning back at you with his beautifully dimpled cheeks.

“What’s your favourite baked good?” “You don’t have to-” “I can’t ask a question?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, but relaxed, his hands tapping on the edge of the countertop as he thought about it.

“Maybe cinnamon rolls?”

You nodded appreciatively.

“Ah, a classic. Those are pretty simple.”

“So what’s your favourite, then?”

You scrunched your mouth to one side. “Mm… Almond croissant? Anything with marzipan, I’m there. I’m not great with that kind of pastry though.”

Will was surprised that you wouldn’t be excellent at making something you liked, since you seemed to know your way around the kitchen so well. “Practice makes perfect?” he offered.

“True…” You cut the dough in half and placed it into bowls you had prepared. “My dad used to say that anything worth doing was worth doing poorly.”

Will laughed. “That’s an interesting outlook.”

You shrugged and smiled. “He said all sorts of shit, like, ‘If anyone can do it, so can you.’”

Will laughed again.

“Quite the family.”

“Dad was the normal one.” “I think I’m starting to understand you a bit better.”

You laughed.

When you put the dough in the fridge to rise, you dusted your hands off with a tea towel. “Well, I should call ‘er. Early morning.”

Will nodded. “Right.”

--

Not long later, you laid in your bed in the dark, pulling your duvet tightly around you.

You were cold and tired, and you imagined what it might be like to have Will sharing the bed with you. You were pretty sure that the man slept in the nude, something you didn’t mind the idea of at all. You pictured his strong arms wrapped around you as you used his furry chest as a pillow; how welcoming they’d be on a cold night to keep you warm and cozy.

You sighed and winced.

He has a life in Dunedin.

--

Meanwhile, Will had gotten up for a glass of water.

He wandered into the dark kitchen and filled his glass at the sink before moving to stand near the back door. He stared out the glass to look over the property in the din. He was proud of the progress he’d made in ripping out the old fence, and his eyes followed the path of where it was meant to be.

Toward the back of the yard, he thought he saw movement.

He rubbed at his eyes, then blinked and squinted at it again.

He felt his heart race as he saw the movement again. A figure weaving through the trees, slow and low.

Will grabbed a knife from the block on the counter, then quietly opened the back door. He flicked on the back porchlight, bathing the yard in light.

The indistinct figure at the edge of the yard darted upright, then turned and ran in the opposite direction.

Will blinked, watching as the figure disappeared into the dark edges of the yard, lost in the black of the rest of your undeveloped property. He fought to keep his breathing calm as he turned off the light and shut the door, locking it immediately.

He debated telling you, but as he peered out into the dark night again, he questioned if he’d actually seen someone out there or if he’d hallucinated it.

He tightened the belt on his robe, and decided to check all the doors and windows before going back to bed.

--

Part 3 here

--

A/N: The shower scene was a request ;) Finally posting a continuation of this fic, lol. I do have other chapters partially written already, so please look forward to more of this in the future!

Tags: @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @the-poldarkian @the-butterfly-blues @fortheloveofdurin @spngingerbread21 @feeweeeee @ichoosechoasandbeingqueer @missihart23

As always, please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from a taglist (for everything, for specific characters, etc.)

[pampergirl1]

Ballerina nursery👶🏼👶🏻👶🏽🎀

(Eyes slowly opening)

 I lay here , in my huge white bared crib. With big pink bows, and lace. As I start to gain consciousness I hear cries from poor sweet infant babies, that used to be adults, well at least in mind. Also as I continue to wake up, I smell an aroma of Johnson Johnson and poop. I so hope it isn’t coming from me, but I would t be surprised… it had been a whole year of training. I don’t even know when I’ve went anymore. The only sign given is a stinky smell, and mushy bottom, a soggy fat crotch or when I’m playing and I happen to look down and that thing that helps grown ups know when a baby needs a diaper change. Other than that, I don’t know until I’m laid on a huge wooden table with my legs crossed and someone is wiping my bottom. 

The door opened and mommy comes through it as usual, ready to wake us change our diapers, and give us her breast to nurse or a bottle. I understand because she can only nurse two at a time. 

Mommy walks in “Hi mamas girls and boys, uh oh I smell duties”. “Goodness who pooped their pants, who did it”?! As she cooed us.

She has us on a routine, and it’s like clock work. 

Diapers changed at 6am.

We get a warm bottle to nurse us back to sleep. We lay down for about two more hours. By that time, I don’t know any baby in here who doesn’t at least need a #1 diaper change. But we get another diaper. We then get laid back down until about 10am and then it’s bath time 🫧🛁. Then mommy gets all 10 of us dressed. She has a mothers helper. Our diapers get pretty dirty so she needs a lot of help. Then we have play time in our play room, this is my favorite part. Lunch is afterwards and then we have another diaper change. We then get a bottle of juice or milk and laid in our giant bouncers and we watch Barney, seaseme street, Dora, or Mickey Mouse club house. Then mama takes two of us, gives us our last diaper for the night and then nurses us and then lays us down for bed 💤 👶🏽👶🏼👶🏽👶🏻🎀

I can’t say I hate my life, I don’t. I’m use to it now. I just wish I didn’t have the brain of an adult. If I didn’t maybe doing these infantile things wouldn’t be so redundant. It has its perks though. I got transformed in the bathroom of a club when I was drunk. Mommy changed me right there and from that point on , I needed her milk , I needed a diaper and I can’t walk, I can crawl. I also can’t make full sentences. All I can do it say “ma-ma” “hungie” “stinky”. She allows you more teaching and training as she builds trust with you, that you won’t leave her. She taught me those words so far, so I can’t at least tell her when I’m hungry, or need something, or better yet when I’ve got a mound dukie packed on my ass. My diapers get so dirty I start to cry when I’m in my crib because any shifting wafts my dirty diapers smell. Mama has a sache in all of our cribs that smells like baby powder. But then all I smell is powder and diarrhea from below. I’m used to it , it’s just the smell of a nursery, not to mention it’s not always me, sometimes it’s one of the other babies who’ve dirtied their pamper. 

Mama walks in and crabs her cady as usual. She loads 10 diapers, we are all pretty much in pampers, in the day time, in the night we sleep with a Huggies over night because they absorb more so we don’t leak. She grabs her large dispenser of baby wipes and our destin diaper rash cream. I get diaper rash a lot. Mama says I have sensitive skin. 

Mama picks us up out of our crib, she takes us over to our changing section of our nursery. She lays each of us down and unbuttones the crotch of our onesies. Typically all of our diapers sag, in our defense we were sleeping for 10 hours without a change. At this point what else could you expect out of us, we’re incontinent… 

To be continued 🌸🎀

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

The Invitation Chapter 2

here on ao3 or read below

Fishkill, New  York, 1993

Daniel’s head is pounding.  He buries his face further into the cushion of the couch to hide from the light peeking in the window.  He’d gone out last night with a source who needed some liquid courage to talk.  Daniel had joined, then ended up out-drinking him.  

It didn’t matter.  He’d already gotten all the information he needed at that point.  So he drank and smoked and shot the shit at the bar and got home late.  Alice hadn’t even spoken to him; there was a pillow and blanket on the couch and the bedroom door was locked.

Nobody ever said marriage was easy.

He’s about to drift back to sleep, when a small hand shakes his shoulder.  “Dad.  Hey Dad.  Daddy.  Dad, wake up.”

Daniel blinks open his eyes to see his youngest daughter standing in front of him, between the couch and the television.  Paige looks more like him than Alice, has his dark curls and green eyes.  She turned nine this year, but she’s small for her age.  That she gets from Alice, who is petite.  Freckles are scattered over the bridge of her nose and she’s bouncing on the heels of her feet.  “Are you awake yet?”

“Nope, I’m sleeping with my eyes open.”  Sarcasm is in his nature, but he’s never unkind with it to his daughters.  

“Why are you on the couch?” she asks. 

Because sometimes mommys and daddys don’t get along.  But Daniel can’t say that.  “Got home late last night.  I didn’t wanna wake up your mom.”

“Oh.”

Daniel looks at Paige expectedly.  

“Oh, right,” Paige says.  She’s a bit scatter-brained, his youngest.  Always jumping from one thought to the next.  Always full of energy too.  “Margo is playing with a rat.”

Daniel rubs a hand over his face and sighs.  “Where is she?”

“In the backyard, by the swing,” Paige says, and wrinkles her nose.  “It’s dead.”

Daniel forces himself to his feet–sleeping on the couch didn’t do any favors for his back–and heads through the living room, into the kitchen and out the back door.  His oldest is out under the singular tree in the yard, by the old tire swing Daniel had built years ago.  There is indeed a dead rat in front of her.  

“Whatcha got there?”

Margo turns her head to look at him.  She looks more like Alice.  She has Alice’s light brown hair and eyes.  She’s tall and gangly, at that awkward age.  Eleven.  Her skin is pasty white from time spent indoors.  Round glasses frame eyes that are already too big for her face.  Her forehead is small and her nose sharp, giving her an owl-like appearance.  

Margo gives a guilty jerk and holds up her hands.  She’s wearing Alice’s blue and white polka dot gardening gloves.  “It’s okay, I didn’t touch it with my bare hands.”

Daniel crosses the yard in his bare feet towards his daughter.  Upon closer look, he can see the rat is sliced open down its middle.  Parts of its insides have been taken out and laid down alongside it.  There’s a pocket knife in Margo’s left hand.  Daniel reaches out and takes it.

“I didn’t kill it,” Margo says, as if that’s the pressing issue.  “I found it under the swing.”

“Uh-huh,” Daniel says.  “And is there a reason you’re dissecting it?”

“I wanted to see what its insides looked like,” Margo says simply.  She crosses her arms defensively.  “I didn’t hurt it or anything.”

“I know,” Daniel says, wondering why he got the weirdest kid on the planet.  He loves that kid, though.  Smart as a whip.  “Let’s bury it before Mom sees.”

Margo bites her lip and nods.  “Mom doesn’t like my experiments.”

Daniel reaches out and ruffles Margo’s hair.  “Go get breakfast, I’ll handle this.”

A few minutes later, the back door opens and Alice comes out.  Her long hair is up in a messy ponytail and she’s wearing sweats and an old Rolling Stones tee shirt of Daniel’s.  She has two mugs of coffee in her hands.  She comes up to Daniel and looks at the shovel in his hands.  “Do I even want to know?”

“Margo found a dead rat,” Daniel says.  

Alice wrinkles her nose and passes him the blue mug with the chip in it.  It’s Daniel’s favorite mug.  “How ya feeling?”

“My back hurts.  Thanks.”

Alice takes a sip of her own coffee.  “Maybe if you came home at a reasonable hour, I wouldn’t have locked the door.”

She’s trying to sound casual, but she’s irritated.  Daniel can always tell–she gets a bit of a Southern twang when she’s mad.  It was worse when they first met, and she was a transplant from South Carolina.  She moved to New York City to make it as a writer.  She was a political journalist who spent most of her career shitting on Reagan.  

“Didn’t know I had a curfew.”

Alice fixes him with a look.  “I didn’t know you needed one.”

Daniel doesn’t want to fight.  They’ve been bickering a lot lately.  A lot more than they’ve been having sex, that’s for sure.  Daniel can’t remember the last time they fucked, and even then, it had been a half-hearted thing.  He takes another sip of coffee and says nothing.

“You have mail, by the way.  All the way from San Francisco.”  Alice turns to head back in.  “I left it in your office.”  She reaches the door and looks back at Daniel, bites her lip and looks like she’s contemplating saying something.  

She doesn’t.  She goes back inside, leaving Daniel alone.  Daniel heads to his office and finds a stack of tapes wrapped in brown paper.  There’s a envelope with it.  Daniel opens it and inside is a letter.  

“Dear Mr. Molloy,

I hope this letter finds you safe and thriving.  I've been following your career with some interest since our last meeting. Please allow me to congratulate you on all your successes, those professional and those personally redemptive.

The passage of time has provided me perspective. And I suspect the same might be for you, as well. I'm hoping pride won't deter you from the following proposal I am to make.

In a week's time, I want to fly you to my home In San Francisco to discuss revisiting the project boyish youth prevented us from finishing.

Twenty years removed from the room we shared, I offer, for your journalistic pleasures, my full attention and my life story.

Come meet with me to discuss the proposal.  A single weekend, to convince you to finish what we started.  You may decide from there whether you choose to take the story or not.

All affinities,

Louis de Pointe du Lac.”

There’s already a plane ticket in the envelope.  Daniel’s hands sweat just thinking of that night, and his hand goes to his neck, to the old scar.  It would be beyond stupid to do this.

Fortunately, that’s never stopped Daniel Molloy before.

[greatlydelirious]

𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

Mark Hoffman x F!Reader

requested by: @ghoul-lily​

wordcount: 1.9k words

warnings: smut, phone sex, rough language, masturbation, slight power dynamics

For the hundredth time in the last hour, you toss and turn in bed. Although it was late in the night for you, it wasn’t for your boyfriend. He was still working tirelessly in the office and that irked you. You weren’t trying to be selfish, but you needed him. Badly.

Mark Hoffman was a senior Detective Lieutenant at the Metropolitan Police Department. Between tracking down Jigsaw’s next move and being out on the field, he had little time to spare. Somehow Mark would squeeze time in his busy schedule to see you.

That entailed either a quickie in his office or waking up very early in the morning to his hot body pressed against your own. However, it had been too long since you even heard the sultry man’s voice. The thought alone made you insatiably wet.

Biting your lip, you battle with yourself mentally. Mark was only a phone call away. Due to the time of day, or night rather, there should be no one in the office you would be disturbing by calling the Detective.

When you rub your thighs together you make your decision. If you don’t get some kind of relief courtesy of Mark you will never fall asleep.

Reaching over to your bedside table you open your flip phone. With a single press of a button, you call Mark. Of course, you had him on speed dial. In your defense, he practically forced you to do it.

Mark had a strong protectiveness over you that at times, was overwhelming with how much it consumed you. It should have made you run for the hills, but it only reinforced that he craved you as much as you did him.

After only two rings your call is picked up, “Detective Hoffman.” A smile spreads across your lips at just the taste of his voice. “Are you busy Detective? It’s urgent.” Your words on a normal day would cause alarm, but the soft low tone of your voice exposed the kind of state you were on.

Mark didn’t even have to ask who it was. Every aspect of you was so engrained in his brain he could pick you in a lineup blindfolded by just touching your hand. “Is it now? What’s wrong baby?” The endearing nickname always made goosebumps spread across your skin.

Gnawing on your lip you hesitate for a moment. When your silent Mark purrs out your name in a low whisper. Well, you got this far, no turning back now. “I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I think about you. I ache for you, Mark.”

Despite your courage, a warm flush covers your voice. Mark preferred when you didn’t talk in circles about what you wanted. He was a brash man, some would say rude, but that’s how he stayed on the top of the food chain. Mark didn’t have time for games. If only you knew the irony of that thought.

On the other end, you can hear the creak of Mark’s leather chair. Imagines of how he must look all disheveled from a long day in his suit spurs your libido on. As if he was having the same thoughts Mark asks, “What are you wearing?”

The cliché comment would have made you laugh if you weren’t so turned on. You run a hand along your bare thigh. “Only one of your shirts and those lacy red panties.” They were his favorite pare. Mark always said you were a “vision in red”.

“You’re trying to tempt me, aren’t you? All dressed up for me even when I’m not home.” The low rasp of his voice displayed Mark’s own desire.

It takes too much concentration to keep the phone to your ear. Your hand trembled with anticipation at Mark’s every last word. “I can’t help it. You’re all I think about.” It was the truth. Somehow Mark Hoffman had managed to possess your whole being. If he told you to jump you would ask “how high?” and he took advantage of that at every turn.

There’s a calculative pause, “Have you touched yourself?” You tried but failed miserably. Mark had ruined any type of sexual experience that didn’t include him. “I-I tried, but it’s not the same without you.” You could practically hear the cocky smirk that spreads his plush lips.

Just the thought of those lips sliding across your skin makes you shudder. “Can you help me… over the phone I mean.” The two of you never had phone sex before, but you were so desperate you would take anything you could get. For a moment you think you asked for too much. Mark was at work for fuck’s sake, but that never stopped you before.

“I want you to rub your clit under your pretty panties.” Excitement flows through you. You were all too eager to oblige. Quickly putting the phone on speaker, you almost throw it on the pillow next to you. With your newly freed hand, you do just as he demanded.

“Press harder. Imagine it’s my fingers sliding against your wet cunt.” The vulgarity of his words only increases your pleasure. Moaning, you lay your head back and close your eyes. Hearing Mark’s voice made the fantasy feel so real. “Tell me what you were thinking about.” His authoritative tone saved for the field and rough nights in your shared bedroom left no room for argument.

As you speak, sharp breaths and moans break up your sentence, “I-I was thi-thinking about going over the-there and having you fu-ck, oh God, me on your desk.” A noise that can only be described as a growl tickles your ear. “You like when I bend you over like a bitch in heat don’t you?”

You cry out a confirming “yes” as the pressure of your touch and his words build your pleasure. You stroke yourself in hard fast circles; just the way Mark did when he was preparing you for his thick cock. No matter how many times you had sex, he still managed to stretch you incredibly.

“Last time I fucked you in my office your tight cunt squeezed me in a vice. My little slut loves to try and get me in trouble.” Your response is a breathy moan. Something about such a dirty nickname set your body on fire. Mark fueled your insatiable lust.

It was a power move for him. Mark gave you just enough of himself to make you crave him, but not enough to ever fully satisfy your hunger. He would ensure sure you always needed him and relied on him.

When you let out a high-pitched whimper a dark chuckle follows soon after. “Oh, you are such a slut.” You clutch around nothing, the emptiness frustrating you. Almost like he could read your mind Mark commands, “Fuck yourself on two of your fingers. Nice and slow, let me hear you.”

Bringing the phone closer you let your fingers slide down your cleft before sinking the two digits inside. Although they weren’t nearly as thick as Mark’s your imagination convinced you as much. “Feel how soft and tight you are? Imagine my hard cock buried deep inside you.”

You let out a flustered moan. “God! I can practically feel you.” Your walls trembled around your ministrations. The image of Mark caging you underneath him, fucking into you with reckless abandon alone could have made you come.

For a moment it almost felt like too much. The torture of having Mark with you, but not physically was killing you. Incoherent noises spill from your lips as you’re met with the sound of Mark’s heavy breaths. “Put a third finger in and pump hard and fast. Take it all like the good slut you are.”

The additional stretch would have hurt if your core wasn’t so slick. Mark had a way of making you melt into a puddle. With that in mind, you still cry out at the full sensation. A light mix of pain and pleasure; aka what Mark strove for.

“Do you want to come?”

“Y-Yes! Please, Mark-“

“What the fuck did you call me?” The gruffness in his voice makes you swallow thickly. Your desperate need to climax made you forget Mark’s preferred name during heated moments like these. “Please daddy. I ne-need it.”

Squelching noises emanated from your wet core. The speed you fucked yourself at was almost punishing. Beads of sweat rolled down your temple; every part of your body was on fire. The only thing that stood between you from reaching your orgasm were four little words.

“Come for me, baby.” With that simple command, you cry out in ecstasy. Your hips buck onto your fingers while you try to ride out your pleasure. Mark continued to praise you in his low, husky voice. Pushing your head back into the pillow you let yourself collapse into the mattress.

Heavy breaths are sent on either side of the connection. How Mark had the restraint to not touch himself baffled you. Your positive that his hard cock was straining against his slacks at this exact moment. What was in store for you later tantalized you even through your post-orgasmic haze.

You finally manage to clear your throat to find your words. “Thank you, Mark. Sorry I interrupted your work. I missed you.” You almost cringed at how needy you sounded.

You can hear Mark shuffle with the fabric of his clothes. He was most liking trying to make himself semi-presentable again. God the amount of money you would pay to get even a glance of him. “I told you if you needed anything to call me. Day or night.” Mark’s voice takes on a teasing note, “That includes sexual frustration.”

Mark did say that, and it only made you fall even deeper for him. Never did a person make you feel so important and wanted. People could say what they wanted about the Detective because at the end of the day he took great care of you despite his limited time.

“Thank you still. An orgasm is a great sleeping remedy. You never leave me deprived that’s for sure.” You smile at the memories of all the times Mark took time out of his day to interact with you. Especially the one that started this call in the first place. Office desk sex was your guiltiest pleasure.

“Be a good girl and go to bed.” You unconsciously agree with him when you yawn. “Goodnight Mark.” At that you end the call promptly, not wanting to distract him further.

Although you didn’t exchange “I love you”, actions spoke louder than words. In your heart you knew Mark would do anything for you; kill for you even. The extent of which was more sincere than just a declaration of loyalty.

Satiated in your orgasm and much-needed attention from your boyfriend Mark you snuggle back into bed. Not long after you fall into blissful sleep.

In the morning you were roused from your slumber by rough hands gliding across your body and something hard pressing against your back. Mark Hoffman had you not only wrapped but entwined around his finger.

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.

[h0tchner]

Something More (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: Written as a request for the loml, Abby! (@heliotropehotch!) "Could I have a hotch x reader request thats got a love confession- maybe a hurt comfort scene where the reader is maybe torn up about something like self deprecation or some cop makes an off-handed compliment and he cups her cheeks and wipes the tears away? Pretty please 🥺"

word count: 3.2k

includes: love confessions! hurt/comfort, protective!hotch, mutual pining!!!, kissing, a little teaser of sexytimes, work tension, BAU!reader, crying and other emotions, rude af deputies, fluff soooo much fluff

rating: 18+ (cursing, crude nicknames, suggestive sexual mentions, and brief explicit sexual content at the very end)

a/n: HELLO BESTIES! I hope you love this one! If you want a smutty part two, let me know. PLS (!!!!!) interact if you liked this fic; rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

some pals tags: @arsonhotchner @laurensprentiss @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie

“It’s time to give the profile,” Hotch announces.

Six words. One sentence. Zero hesitation.

“Go and gather everybody in the bullpen,” he directs Spencer, who nods and quietly exits the conference room to collect your team and the rest of the Sherrif’s department of this small, Wisconsin town.

You stand on the opposite side of the table from your boss, looking at him expectantly. Hotch meets your gaze. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he glares at you from beneath thick lashes. You wait for your instructions, but the instructions don’t come. Rather, you both stand there in a staring contest, unmoving.

You can’t help but feel bare under his scrutiny, but this feeling is nothing new. Every time Hotch looks at you, it feels as if every fibre of your being is on fire. It’s been this way since the very first day you started with the BAU, and, over time, the flame has only burned brighter.

You and Hotch have grown close over the two years you’ve been with the team: closer than he’s been with any of his other agents, even Rossi. It all started with one long night spent together in his office, sharing cold Chinese food, scribbling away at mountains of paperwork. It was then, sitting across the desk from him, laughing at his incredulous reaction when he dropped some Lo Mein on an After-Action Report, that you knew: you were in deep. From then on, your Chinese food office “dates” became a regular occurrence. And then, those regular occurrences transformed into other regular occurrences; to name a few: rides on the jet, side by side, sharing soft glances and tired smiles after hard cases… holding hands to comfort each other when emotionally vulnerable… and even bringing you your favourite coffee on mornings that you’ve needed an extra boost. All these little moments of kindness and care are what made you fall in love with him. You would cross the line from coworkers to more in a heartbeat if you knew for certain that he felt the same way about you. But you refuse to take a risk on losing what you currently have with Hotch for the chance at something more.

The way that Hotch looks at you now, tall and commanding, feels very much like something more… it’s incredibly intimate. He’s effectively stripped away all the layers of protection you’ve built up to do your job with one pointed glance. What you don’t know is that he too feeling the same way, and is toeing a line between being your boss, being your friend, and being your “something more.”

Hotch breathes out hard through his nose. You watch as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he does. His jaw ticks. He shifts on his feet.

“I want you to sit this one out,” he says.

“Hotch?” You question, puzzled. Nothing about this day has prepared you for him to say that. You start racking your brain, trying to figure out why he would give you such a ridiculous order. Did you piss him off somehow? Did you play-flirt with Morgan too much in the car? Overlook an important lead? Did he not like the coffee you made him this morning?

Looking over at him, you swear he almost looks conflicted… but it doesn’t last.

“This is not up for debate. Do you understand me? You’re sitting this one out.” He repeats, steadfast.

“I don’t understand, what did I do wrong?” You ask more defensively this time, wishing he would give you more information. Something, anything besides the “SSA Aaron Hotchner” routine he was pulling on you now.

“I never said you did anything wrong.” Hotch moves forward a step, finally breaking eye contact, opting to gather files and loose papers into his arms.

“So, then what it is?” You cross your arms, stepping forwards as well, challenging him with your posture.

He doesn’t respond, nor does he look at you. Instead, he lumps more files into his arms before rounding the table, moving swiftly toward the door.

You have never, ever disobeyed one of his orders because his orders have always made sense… until now.

“Hotch,” you say sternly, your stubborn feet moving to stand between him and the exit before your logical brain can stop you.

He’s practically up against you, cornering you between his solid body and the old wooden door. His height dominates your shorter frame, and the heat coming off his body is positively criminal. Your heart flutters in your chest as he stares you down, calculating his next move.

“Out of my way, Agent Y/L/N.” He breathes out, tensing his jaw.

“Fine,” you stutter, “just tell me why and then I’ll let you go.” Your confidence wavers as you’re a little taken aback by his official use of your title and last name.

You’re hurt, confused… and he knows this. No matter how hard you’re putting on your tough-girl FBI face, Hotch can see right through it. He knows this order is unjustified, but he has his own reasons: reasons that he can’t get into. Not now.

Hotch lets his eyes dart to the side, past your head, not daring to look you in the eyes. He wills himself to be gentle.

“I can’t tell you, but I need you to trust me. Sit this one out.” He verbalizes, looking at you a little softer now. His face relaxes a little more into the Hotchner you’ve come to know: the one who calls his son every night to read a bedtime story, the one who grins every time you beat him in chess.

You two stand there a moment longer, your heart racing from the heat of the quarrel and your current proximity to your Unit Chief.

Hotch opens his mouth to say something else, but a knock on the door behind you stops him in his tracks. You step aside and he whips open the door; a very apologetic Spencer stands behind it.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Spencer says, clearing his throat awkwardly, “but everyone is ready in the bullpen.”

“Thank you,” Hotch nods, stepping forward to leave, but you grab a hold of his arm.

“Hotch,” you begin, not entirely sure what you want to say.

“Later,” he answers, finishing the unspoken thought.

With that, he’s out the door and you’re left alone with only stale coffee and a bunch of disorganized files to keep you company.

You close the door behind them with a sigh, letting yourself rest against it again, closing your eyes for a moment in defeat. Three days on this case. Three days of hard work, interviews, and research just to get benched in the end zone. You wish that you didn’t love Hotch, because maybe if you didn’t, it would be easier to disobey him. Opening your eyes again, you scan the quiet room. Then, something in front of you catches your eye and you get an idea.

On the table rests one of the precinct’s phones. It is all too easy to use the conference feature to listen in on one of the other phone lines: specifically, one in the bullpen.

You grin and rush over to the device, feeling a little bit sheepish for not listening to Hotch, but you push the buttons anyway, and bring the receiver up to your ear.

At first, all you hear is the shuffling of papers and muffled voices. You take a seat, leaning back in your chair like the cat who caught the canary. Several more moments pass of bureaucratic white noise, but then, someone speaks.

“Where’s the slutty one?” A male voice whispers.

“Oh, Agent Y/N? Probably on her knees somewhere waiting for her boss to come back.” A second male voice snickers back, matching the volume of the first.

You gasp, the phone slipping out of your hand, landing on the table with a loud thunk.

Scrambling, you grab it again, your other hand coming to rest over your open mouth.

“Don’t know why he wouldn’t let us use her as bait. This whole case could’ve been wrapped up and done by now if we just stuck her in a skimpy dress and shoved her out on the street.” One of them muses.

“Obviously because he’s sleeping with her.” The other mutters. “Agent Hotchner looked like he was going to take your head off when you asked him about it. Thought he was going to deck you for suggesting disguising her as a hooker to lure this guy out.”

“Yeah, he did. She looks like the victims, though. Bet she’s a whore like them too.”

“Deputies, we’re starting.” You hear a third voice pipe up. This time it’s one you recognize: it’s Hotch. “This is your final warning. I don’t want to hear another word out of you for the rest of the day. Not only is this wildly inappropriate, but it is insulting and vile. If I hear either of you speak about, look at, or interact with Agent Y/N, I will make sure you are both charged with harassment and fired from this department. Is that clear?”

With that, your eyes nearly pop out of your head. The deputies mumble something back, but you can’t hear over the sound of papers rustling.

Stunned, you set the phone back in its holder and force air into your lungs.

Waves of thoughts come crashing down on you. You have so many questions and so many answers and it’s all just… too much.

Suddenly, you know that you need to be anywhere but here.

You stand, shoving the chair aside and burst out of the conference room, fuming. You power-walk down the hall, and past the bullpen, focused on getting yourself outside and into the fresh air. Understandably, you don’t look up as you pass the profile briefing, so you don’t see Hotch’s brow furrow at the sight of you. You also don’t see him hand his papers to JJ, excuse himself, and race to follow you out the front door.

Once you’re outside in the parking lot, you look up at the cloudy, grey sky, and the tears start to fall. You feel guilty and angry; part of you wants to run away and cry, but the other part of you wants to walk straight up to those men and kick them straight in the dick. They not only called you vile names, but they also called the victims – those poor, dead women – the same. You sniffle, thinking about how Hotch stepped in and protected you, stood up for you.

Hotch… the thought of him makes you cry a little harder.

You start to pace around, kicking gravel as you went.

Were you that obvious? Was your crush so rampant that two low-level deputies in the middle of nowheresville picked up that easily on how you really felt about your boss?

“Fuck you two,” you curse under your breath to nobody as you choke back sobs. You kick a large piece of gravel as hard and as far as you can, but it doesn’t help.

“Are you okay?” A voice prods from behind you, gently, hesitantly, as if not to spook you. It’s a curt baritone, laced with concern. It’s Hotch.

“Hotch,” you breathe, turning to face him, furiously wiping tears away from your eyes.

“What happened?” He frowns, stepping closer to you, a comforting hand reaching forward to take yours.

Any other day you would grasp it contently, letting him console you. Today? All you can hear are the deputy’s comments. Sleeping with her. Whore. On her knees. You’re embarrassed and ashamed, so, you involuntarily step back.

“It’s nothing,” you put your hands up, looking down at your feet.

“Y/N,” Hotch says, his heart pounding in his chest.

You look back up, locking on his beautiful, angular face. You see every feature clouded in a haze of sorrow and concern.

You know you must swallow your pain and try to get it out. He wasn’t about to let you off easy.

“You… they… I…” you begin, but never finish your sentence. Instead, you start to cry again.

Wordlessly, Hotch moves to cup your face in his hands. They’re large and slightly calloused, encasing your cheeks as his thumbs gently swipe away the tears. His soft eyes search your watery ones; despite your better instinct, you bring your hands up to rest on his chest. You feel his breathing hitch. One of his hands moves from your face to cover your smaller hand against his chest. The two of you stay there, just like that, for another handful of heartbeats. You focus on his hands and how warm and safe they make you feel. Soon enough, you stop crying and gather the courage to speak.

“I heard them.” You whisper, not trusting yourself to say another word. You know that Hotch knows exactly who “them” is, and exactly what it is that you’ve heard.

His brow creases and his hand grips yours tighter. He cleans another tear off your cheek, and then lets that hand down to ball in a fist at his side.

“I’m going to kill them.” Hotch states, furious and heartbroken.

“Me first.” You sniffle.

Your boss sighs, giving you a heartfelt look. Leave it to you to make a joke at a time like this.

“I told them this morning that if I ever heard them say another thing about you, I was going to have their badges. I should’ve kicked them off this case hours ago.” He huffs, closing his eyes, letting his other hand, the one that was covering yours, drop down to his side.

You know this look all too well. You know he’s blaming himself.

“It’s not your fault,” you offer, smoothing your hands over his chest to settle on his upper arms. “Hotch, look at me.”

He doesn’t at first, but eventually, he opens his eyes. His hands open and close at his sides, as if he’s fighting them to be still.

“I’m sorry.” He breathes out. “For everything. For handling this how I did.”

“I’m not.” You chime in, feeling braver, calmer now that you’re here with him. Your comment earns a quizzical glance and a slight head tilt from Hotch, urging you to go on. “You stood up for me. You honoured me. You respected me. You protected me. You –“

With a fierce momentum, your next sentence is swallowed by Hotch’s lips pressing into yours. His hands come up to rest on your hips, and then circle around your waist to pull you closer. He’s warm and soft and intense; you whimper into the kiss, moving your hands to rest on the back of his neck and card in his hair. The kiss is over far too soon for your liking, both of you needing to pull back and inhale.

Hotch looks at you with heavy eyes, hands gripping your hips. He smells like coffee and pine, with a hint of something spicier. Everything about him is overwhelming yet grounding.

“Finally,” you whisper, hands clasped around his neck. “It’s about damn time.”

“It is,” is all he musters, still dazed by the audacity of his own actions.

“Aaron?” You lick your lips, feeling his hands squeeze you tight at your use of his first name.

“Yeah?” He can’t help but start to smile, showing off his adorable dimples and crinkled lines around his eyes.

“I love you; do you know that?” You say in earnest.

Aaron giggles, giggles at your confession, and then attacks your lips again, making you yelp at the surprise. His lips detach from yours only to pepper kisses on your tear-stained cheeks, jaw, and forehead.

“I love you too,” he breathes out, giddier than you’ve ever seen him. He looks like a kid in a candy shop, and it makes your heart leap into your throat.

Just then, a car beeps on the road, startling you two. You’re suddenly reminded where you are, and why you’re here. The thought of having to go back inside makes you groan, and you bury your head into his chest for a moment. He hums into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

Reluctantly, you pull yourself off his chest to look up at him.

“Forget about them,” you say, “go finish giving the profile so we can close this case and get the hell out of this town so you can take me home and show me how much you love me.” You smile at him, pulling him in for another, lighter kiss.

He grins against your lips, meeting you for another smooch.

“Yes ma’am,” Hotch replies, giving you a kiss on the tip of your nose.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three months later, you and Aaron are coming down from your highs, sweaty and blissed-out after an amazing lovemaking session. After the team wrapped up the case and made it back to Virginia in one piece, you and Hotch went out to dinner the next night. He took you to dine in at the Chinese restaurant that you both usually ordered from on those nights you both spent pining and yearning in his office. It was… perfect. He was perfect. Just as your friendship had blossomed, so did your relationship. One date led to another, one gesture turned into more, and you and Aaron settled into life as a couple with ease. You hadn’t brought up the incident with the deputies since it had happened the afternoon that Hotch had followed you out to the parking lot to wipe away your tears.

Now, as you lay in his arms, wrapped in his strong, loving, embrace, your mind wanders back to their words. However, you don’t feel animosity toward them, rather it makes you giggle.

“What’s so funny hot stuff?” Aaron cracks open an eye and smiles down at you. One arm is tucked underneath his head, and the other is tracing patterns on the bare skin of your shoulder.

“Oh, just that case we had in Wisconsin a few months back.” You nuzzle deeper into his chest with another laugh.

Hotch frowns, recalling the memory, thinking about the way those awful men spoke about you.

“How is that funny?” He asks, hesitantly.

“They called me a whore.” You say nonchalantly, peering innocently into his amber eyes. You bring your palm up to swipe across his cheek softly, feeling the light stubble of his jaw underneath your fingertips.

Both of his eyes are open now, and his hand motions cease their patterns on your skin. He’s confused, and the face he’s giving you is downright adorable. It makes you giggle again.

You detach yourself from his grasp and sit yourself up, carefully shimmying down the bed. Aaron’s eyes never leave you.

You nestle yourself between his legs and look up at him with a smirk.

“They were partially right.” You offer, studying the small changes in his face, watching as his eyes glaze over with lust for the second time that night.

“I am a whore.” You pout suggestively and flutter your eyelashes. “A whore for you, Hotch.”

He shakes his head at you in amusement and chuckles, but it quickly turns into a deep, throaty moan as you wrap your lips around the tip of him.

As you start to bob your head on his already hardening length, you think to yourself: as much as I hate to say it... someone should really give those two deputies a raise.

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3300 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10   Part 11   Part 12   Part 13   Part 14   Part 15  Part 16

Part 17

Billy couldn’t stop gawking at you, wondering how it was possible you grew more beautiful each time he saw you. The red wrap dress you were wearing accentuated all your curves, and it took every bit of willpower he had not to rip it off of you and fuck you senseless right then and there. Unfortunately, he had to behave himself. Caravan was a pretty bouji place that had recently been labelled as one of the hottest restaurants in Manhattan and he had to pull a few strings to get a last-minute reservation for tonight. But seeing the smile on your face when you realized this was where you were dining had been completely worth all the hassle.

As the hostess guided the two of you to your table, he noticed a few assholes at the bar admiring you from afar. Immediately he snaked his arm around your waist to draw you in closer. You were his. If he could he’d pluck out every one of those fuckers’ eyes so they never made the mistake of looking at you again. Better yet, he’d keep you locked behind closed doors. Of course you wouldn’t agree to anything like that because you were too goddamn independent for your own good.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, taking a seat at your designated table.

Billy’s attention returned to your face as he followed suit, his gaze inhaling you in. “You look too hot. Too many assholes staring at you,” he grumbled.

The worried look on your face was replaced with a beaming smile, one that made his cock twitch.

“You’re being ridiculous” you remarked, scanning the menu.

His eyes drifted down to your chest, the swell of your soft, supple breasts just begging to be kissed and licked by him.

“Stop staring at my boobs, Billy,” you chastised even as a small smile graced your lips. “This is a proper first date. You can’t just ogle me like that. You have to behave like a gentleman.”

He quirked his eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I’ve never been that.”

“Well, try,” you ordered.

The waitress came by with the bottle of red wine you’d requested and poured some in both of your glasses. He noticed the redhead giving him a friendly smile, her green eyes lingering on him for a second too long. Fine, yeah, she may have been hot but she wasn’t you. No one was. So while he would have happily slipped her his number in the past, now the idea of being with someone who wasn’t you no longer excited him.

Once she left, he took the opportunity to move a few inches closer to you. What he really wanted was to get on his knees and bury his head between your legs, but something told him eating you out in in the crowded restaurant wouldn’t go over very well with you.

“I think she likes you.”

Hand propped on the back of your chair, he started playing with your hair. “Who?”

“Our waitress. She didn’t look at me once, her eyes were on you the entire time.”

He leaned in, ecstatic at the thought of you acting possessive. Even though you’d confessed to having feelings for him, Billy still worried you were ready to bolt at any moment. To see you jealous meant you genuinely cared and he didn’t have to worry about you leaving him. “She’s not my type. I have my eyes on someone else.”

You made a show of looking around the restaurant. “Oh, is Madani here too?”

“Funny,” he retorted, taking your hand in his.

“Your ginger’s lucky. I’m dressed way too nice or I’d take my knife and stab her with it.”

He smirked. “You’re vicious when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I just don’t like bad service.”

“Bullshit.”

“Billy, you’re hot. You know that. All the women here are checking you out. If I freaked out every time someone did that, I’d have a breakdown.”

He wanted to destroy the fucking world at the thought of someone even looking at you but apparently you were simply ambivalent about him. “So it’s that easy for you? Your brain tells you to turn off a feeling and your heart just does it?” Even to his own ears he sounded bitter. “Guess you’re not all that invested in me.”

Your eyebrow quirked up, apparently surprised by his edgy tone. “Do you want me to go nuts?”

“Just want you to give a damn.”

“You think I don’t?” you snapped. “Every time she looks at you I want to tear her hair out. Even though the rational part of me knows she’s probably just flirting with you because it’s part of her job or she’s hoping for big tips. Or maybe she really does want to fuck you. Either way, I want to punch her across the face. Happy?” You gulped down your wine.

Grinning, he squeezed your hand. “Then why not just tell me that? Why act like you don’t care?”

The agitated expression on your face was replaced with tenderness, your eyes soft. “Just because I don’t have a jealous fit doesn’t mean I don’t care. I just…” You exhaled a sigh, and he sensed this was difficult for you. “I express my emotions differently than you.”

“I noticed. You put on an act while holding everything in.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“But I want you, the real you, not the version everyone else sees.”

“It’s not that easy, Billy.”

He brought your palm to his lips. “I’d never told anyone about my mother.”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you pointed out.

“You found out anyway, and I’m so fucking glad you did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have realized I could be real with you.” He placed a tender kiss on your skin. “I don’t want to hide anything from you, Y/N.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then tell me about William Rawlins.”

Your request gave him pause, his eyes roaming over your face. He’d taken painstaking measures to keep his partnership with Rawlins a secret yet you’d discovered it. “What do you want to know?”

“He gave you a lot of money.”

“I earned that money,” he said in a defensive tone. “He and I were partners for a while. Then he died.”

“You went to a lot of trouble to hide your connection to him.”

“You found out about it though.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m good at what I do.”

“Yeah, too good,” he muttered. He released your hand, watching you intently. “So what do you want to know?”

You leaned in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. He was momentarily distracted by the sensation of your tits pressed against him but he forced himself to concentrate.

“What happened to Rawlins, did you have anything to do with it?”

Billy took a swig of his wine. “Why do you think that?”

You quirked your eyebrow at him. “Knifed by someone in the parking lot. They never found the guy who did it.”

“He had a lot of enemies,” he pointed out.

“Okay, so maybe I was wrong.”

He studied you for several seconds, trying to decide if he should take the leap or not. “You’re not wrong.”

Realization dawned on your face as the truth set in. “Why did you do it?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

So he told you, about Operation Cerberus, his role in it and the money he earned, how he’d eliminated Rawlins a year ago when the prick plotted to take out Frank and his family. To this day Frank didn’t know about Billy’s partnership with Rawlins or how close he came to dying and he intended to keep it that way.

Throughout his confession his eyes were glued to your face, gauging your reactions. The part of him determined to do anything to be a success, the one who didn’t let society’s morals get in the way of his ambitions, would never be accepted by his closest friends. Despite the myriad of reasons to have kept that side of himself hidden, he didn’t want to do that with you. Because as risky as it was to be so open with you, it was also exhilarating. There was no one in this world he’d ever been this honest with and that kind of intense connection with you was addictive. He wanted you to know everything about him, all of the dark and vicious thoughts that ran through his head, the burning ambition that kept pushing him forward. He wanted you to know him inside and out and he wanted the same from you.

Before he could prod you to speak your mind the server came by with your dishes, setting your meals on the table. The redhead took her time, all the whilst your gaze was focused on the table, avoiding his. Billy’s heart started to pound in his chest, he was suddenly filled with doubt. Had he made a mistake in telling you the truth? Did he just completely fuck this up? Every second the goddamn redhead lingered at the table felt like an eternity when all he wanted was to shake you out of your stupor.

The second the server left, he moved in on you. “Are you gonna say something?”

You finally looked at him, your forehead burrowed. “We need to do a better job of hiding your history with Rawlins. I found it, that means someone else can too.”

“You gonna help me with that?”

You shook your head ‘yes’. “Yeah, I have to. You need me.”

“What I did doesn’t bother you?”

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “Of course it does, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You’ve seen me at my worst and you didn’t judge me. I won’t do that to you either. Besides, when the universe deals you a shitty hand you’ve got to find other ways to even out your odds.”

A strange feeling of warmth flooded over him, compelling him to angle forward and kiss you on the lips.

You pulled away a second later, smiling at him as you rubbed the corner of his mouth. “This lipstick isn’t kiss-proof.”

“I don’t care.” Wicked visions of you flashed through his mind. Your bold red lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him off the way he liked it. His cum spread over your tits, your neck, your lips. The taste of your sweet, delicious cunt on his tongue as he fucked you with his mouth. The heat of your tongue against his as he rammed into you over and over-

“Stop looking at me like that,” you warned.

“Then stop looking so hot,” he snarked.

You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip.

It blew his mind how sweet and shy you were when he paid you compliments, like you didn’t expect that from him. Obviously he needed to fix that, because you deserved to know how insanely beautiful you were all the time.

“Has Anvil been okay without Rawlins?” you asked, taking a bite out of your butternut squash ravioli.

Swallowing his steak, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It was tough for a while but we’ve been doing pretty well the last few months.”

“You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished, Billy. You took a big risk going into business for yourself and you made it work. That’s amazing. I could never do that.”

Billy’s insides radiated with happiness. Other than Curtis and Frank he never really had people who genuinely believed in him so to have you cheering him on was exalting. Especially considering you were great at what you did and he had so much respect for you.

He poured himself and you more wine before reaching for your hand again. “I think you could. You’d make a shitload of money if you freelanced.”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No way, I’m too much of a coward to take a risk like that.” You took a sip of your wine. “Plus I get to go to Paris for work.”

“Or you could go to Paris on vacation and not work.”

“Then I’d have to pay for it,” you pointed out, grinning. “When you grow up the way I did, you learn to appreciate free things.”

Your enthusiasm was infectious, he couldn’t hep but smile back. A part of him was hoping this would be the perfect opening for you to talk more about your childhood, about everything you went through, because he desperately wanted you to trust him as much as he trusted you with his secrets.

“I’ll be there for two weeks,” you continued, oblivious to his disappointment. “We’re going to scout out locations for the new branch and-”

“We?” Billy interjected.

You cast him a quick glance. “Roger’s coming with me on the trip.”

The jealousy that struck him felt like a swift kick to his gut. Images of you and that goddamn bastard traipsing around and enjoying romantic date nights in Paris assaulted his mind. Agitated, he pulled his hand from yours. “I bet that fucker can’t wait to be alone with you.”

“Billy, come on. You can’t be serious.”

“How would you feel if I took off with someone who wanted to fuck me?”

“First of all, he doesn’t want me.”

His jaw clenched with frustration as he glared at you. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s thought about fucking you.”

“Even if he does, I don’t want him.” You reached out to cup his face, your voice so soft and tender in your attempts to placate him that he momentarily forgot how upset he was. “You really think I’d jeopardize what we have for a fling with Roger? I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then don’t go. Turn him down.”

Irritation flickered over your face, he could tell you were done coddling him. “Billy, you have no right to ask me that. I’d never interfere with your work.”

Underneath all that jealousy he knew you were right. As much as he despised the idea of you going away to Paris with another guy, he couldn’t demand that you not go on work trips. If you did that to him, it would annoy the fuck out of him. Yet despite his rational side recognizing he was asking for too much, he couldn’t help but feel bitter. “That asshole’s gonna make a move on you, I know it.”

“What if he does? What do you think is gonna happen?”

Hs eyes met yours, urgently seeking some kind of validation from you. “You tell me.”

“Do you think I’m going to sleep with him?”

He flinched. “Don’t talk about fucking another guy, please. You’re gonna make me lose my appetite.”

You took his hand and placed it over your left breast, probably to distract him from all the disgusting images that were running through his brain. “I wanted you so badly and even then it took me like a month to fuck you. Trust me, I’m not going to sleep with him when I’m not even attracted to him.”

Spotting the earnestness in your eyes, the knot in his stomach finally loosened. Roger may have had a hard-on for you but Billy knew you felt nothing for the fucker. He’d noticed that even at the night of the gala. So that meant he had to trust you, there was no reason not to. “Call me every night when you’re there,” he grumbled.

“Every night? You’re probably going to start blocking my calls,” you laughed.

He booped your nose. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

You beamed. “Fine.” A wicked glint flashed in your eyes, a seductive smile on your lips as you slowly moved his hand lower, his fingers now on your nipple. “Hey, just ‘cause you’re not there with me doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

He stroked your nipple over the fabric of your dress, enjoying how the nub hardened under his touch, the way your breath hitched in your throat when he continued his ministrations. With his other hand he tucked your hair behind your ear, whispering to you. “Phone sex is alright, but nothing beats this.” His tongue curved along the shell of your ear, and you trembled against him. “Right?”

The waitress seemed to come out of nowhere this time to ask how your meals were, and you jumped back. Disappointed, he sighed.

“Food was great. Thank you,” you replied, smiling stiffly at the redhead.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Privacy would be great,” Billy muttered.                                                            

You kicked him under the table. “Dessert menu?”

“Sure. I’ll bring it right over,” the waitress said, taking your plates away.  

“I’ll give you all the sugar you want once we get outta here,” he murmured seductively, caressing your thigh.

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “That’s a terrible line!” You took his hand and removed it from your thigh. “Billy, I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

“Why not?”                                                      

“Because it’s our first date and I don’t put out on the first date.”

“Now that’s a terrible line,” he fired back, mimicking your earlier tone.

“Also, we already had sex this morning.”

“So? I’m greedy. I can’t get enough of you.” There was that shy smile of yours again, and he reached out to give you a sweet peck on the cheek. “You blush every time I tease you.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, it’s adorable.”

Your cheeks grew even more red. “I’m not used to it from you. A part of me still thinks you’re bullshitting me.”

Billy stiffened. “Really?”

“I know you’re not playing me,” you reassured. “It’s on me, not you. I just have a hard time accepting when good things happen.”

The waitress came by with the dessert menu. He briefly glanced at it before ordering a slice of pecan pie while you ordered a piece of chocolate cake.

As soon as the redhead left, he broached the topic with you again. “I’m not gonna hurt you, babe. You have to believe that.”

You didn’t look at him, your eyes fixed somewhere on his chest. “I do. You were so pissed off at me last night. I honestly expected you to hit me because you were so angry. But you didn’t.”

It made him sick to his stomach that you actually thought him capable of hitting you. It hadn’t even occurred to him that you would worry about that, but of course you would. With your childhood it made perfect sense, he was just a fucking idiot who hadn’t realized how much it still impacted you. “I’m never gonna lay a hand on you. I swear.” His eyes locked with yours, hoping you can sense how much he meant those words.

“I believe you.”

His voice was insistent, his gaze boring into you. “Why did you think I would?”

Your eyes wavered from his eyes to his lips for a long time, the atmosphere thick with tension. Your facial expressions ran the gamut of painful emotions, from uncertainty to fear to sheer panic.

It finally sank in that maybe the reason you were keeping the truth from him had noting to do with if you trusted him or not. Maybe you didn’t want to be assaulted by memories from the past that caused you so much pain. The last thing he wanted was for you to experience that hell again. Regretting his demanding tone, his hands caressed down the length of your arms. “You don’t have to tell me, It’s okay.”

Your eyes brimmed with aching vulnerability as you looked up at him. “I want to… I just… give me some time, okay?” You pressed your lips against his, giving him the softest, sweetest kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight for so long, I don’t want to ruin it, you know?”

His heart felt full, his mind reeling with wonderment at the thought of you truly reciprocating his feelings. His arms wrapped around you as you sank into him, burying your face in his chest. His fingers stroked the back of your hair, murmuring soft, soothing words to you. Somewhere in the distance he heard the server’s voice trying to interject, but he didn’t give a damn.  He was yours and you were his and nothing was going to ruin that. Nothing.

Part 18

A/N - I realize not much happened in this chapter but I just reallly wanted to write a dialogue heavy part where they simply get to know and enjoy each other. I think they’ve earned some fluff. LOL.

As always, thank you for your kind words of encouragement. Please let me know your thoughts.

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[urimaginespimp]

A Half-naked Nurse and Wrong Ideas.

Bucky x Reader with fever.

Thank you @daredarling for the “you’ve gotten sick and Bucky takes care of you” idea.

——–

You should’ve known better than to race Sam under a thunderstorm last night. Waking up the next morning, you had a massive headache, your muscles felt sore, and you were shivering.

“Miss Y/N, Mr. Barnes says you’re half an hour late in training.” FRIDAY’s voice spoke, making you groan and bring your comforters above you.

“Tell him to fuck off.” you muffled under the sheets.

Barnes… He has been nothing but a pain in the ass to you. To this day, you don’t know what you’ve done for him to dislike you this much. And as if his snarky comments and glares thrown your way wasn’t enough, Steve actually paired you both for missions and trainings.

If he wasn’t so handsome you would’ve cut him already. If Steve allowed you.

Loud bangs hit your door outside. “Y/L/N you’re already 30 minutes late! That’s 5 laps extra for you!” You could hear the irritation lacing his voice.

Maybe if you ignore him long enough, the pest would go away.

“I know you’re in there!” He followed up after you ignored him.

Sighing in annoyance, you got up, with the blankets still wrapped around you, and weakly waddled your way to your door, not bothering to open up your curtains. Opening the door, A frowning Bucky was looking down on you. If you weren’t feeling so shitty, you would’ve snickered at his expression.

“Barnes why are you so obsessed with me?” your cracked voice barely managed to finish asking.

He was observing you from head to toe, noting how pale you are, and shivering under a huge comforter despite that your AC was off.

“You’re stupid.” That was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

“Well, you’re not that sma-”

“Will you shut up and go back to bed? You look like you’re about to drop dead any second now.” He interrupted you, his face still stern with no emotion.

Rolling your eyes, you turned back and weakly made your way back over to bed, pausing to groan as you remembered you forgot to close the door.

“If you’re still there, could you please close the door.” it almost pained you to even be so polite to him but you blame it to being sick.

Finally managing to lie back down, you stared up the ceiling when you heard the door finally shut gently. Sighing, you were about to let sleep take over you when something caught the corner of your eye.

Bucky was by the closed door, taking his shirt off over his head. You let out a shriek. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?!”

“You’re sick.” he replied nonchalantly, while kicking off his shoes, leaving him in his sweatpants and socks.

“And taking off your clothes is supposed to make me feel better?!” you were trying to support yourself with your elbow, facing his way. “And I meant that you close the door before leaving.”

“I don’t want to die of heat while taking care of you.” he replied in a duh tone before entering your bathroom to fetch some warm water in a basin.

You were still trying to process what he was getting at when he finally went back out, now basin with steaming water in hand.

“You got a clean towelette I can use?” has asked as he placed the basin on the foot of your bed.

“Yeah, it’s by the third dra- what the hell are you doing again?” you caught yourself as he was opening your drawers. “Because if you’re trying to kill me, doing it while I’m defenseless is just beneath you.”

“Didn’t think your IQ could get any lower but you’re sick so I’ll let this pass.” He rolled his eyes before soaking the cloth on the water. “I’m nursing you. Now lay flat and still so the cloth won’t fall off that forehead of yours.” he instructed, again sounding so casual.

You followed his orders before realizing that this whole ordeal was still very weird. “I’m sorry, I still don’t get why you’re doing this.”

He went by your head and placed the cloth on your forehead, making you sigh at the warmth it brought your chilling form. “Steve will have my head if he finds out I knew you’re sick and let you die.”

You stared at him deadpan.

“And partners are supposed to be taking care of each other.” he muttered, making the side of your mouth twitch.

“If you tell anyone I said that I’ll kill you.” he lightly threatened when he noticed your mouth twitch.

“Fair enough. And I should probably tell you that I’m prone to get mentally confused when I have fevers which is a normal symptom, but just letting you know in case I start saying something nice.” you chuckled.

He went over your mini fridge and opened a bottle of water to drink.

You look at him, noticing that he was starting to sweat a lot from the heat. His skin was glistening making you mentally kick yourself from staring.

“You got underwear?” you found yourself asking, making him choke on his drink.

“What?”

“I-I’m just saying i-if you’re that hot, you can just take off your sweatpants and I won’t mind.”

“You’re saying I’m hot?” he chuckled, having fun twisting your words, making you flush. “Hey, color’s back on your face. Maybe I should get you all flustered more.” he teased further.

“Shut up Barnes, I meant that the room’s too hot for you because the AC is off. You’re sweating like a pig.”

“Save the excuses, Y/N. You won’t mind if I’ll just be in my boxers?” he smirked at you as he took his socks off and started working on untying the strings of his sweats.

“Puh-lease, Barnes, it may come as a shock to you, but I’ve seen enough men in boxers. You’re not that…”

You trailed off what you were going to say when you noticed that this was a different kind of boxers. Why were they so tight?

You thought he meant boxer shorts, not boxer briefs. Dammit.

“I’m not that…?” He asked.

“I forgot. Fever brain.” You shrugged, diverting your eyes away from him. “Anyway, why are you so nice to me? You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” He contradicts, placing his hands on his hips.

“Uh, yeah you do.” you paused to let out a cough. “You always make fun of me or provoke me in front of everyone else.”

“And how do I treat you when we’re alone, especially in missions?” he raised his brows at you, expecting that you’ll put two and two together.

“A lot nicer actually.” You muttered.

“Look, I’m sorry. It’s just that the team keeps insisting I have a crush on you.” he scratched the back of his head.

“That’s ridiculous. Why would they even think that?” you chuckled.

“It’s Sam’s fault. He tricked me.”

“What?”

“He was being all hypothetical, saying what if I was only allowed to date someone from the team and who would I choose. And I uh… may have said I’d choose you. And everyone else heard.” He muttered the last part, embarrassed.

It was your turn to smirk at him. “And why me?”

“Stop that. You look like a smirking corpse.” he snapped at you defensively and cleared his throat. “It’s just that you were actually really nice to me when we met. Didn’t feel like you were masking apprehensiveness like everybody did when I first got here.”

“Sounds like you have a crush on me.” you had the courage to tease him, seeing how flustered he got from telling the story.

“This is not how you treat your nurse, Y/N.”

“Yeah, a nurse in his underwear. Very ethical. And I’m not your supervisor, but I think brooding is not advisable.”

“And now as your nurse, I would advise you to quit talking and get some sleep.”  he playfully glared at you. “I’ll be by the chair to constantly check on your temperature and replace the cloth on your forehead.”

“I really appreciate what you’re doing, Barnes. I’m starting to think the team’s right.”

“Ma’am flirting with patients and vice versa is frowned upon. Now sleep.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

——–

While you were finally snoozing for over an hour, gentle knocks were heard on your door.

Standing up from his chair, Bucky quickly made his way over the door to prevent more knocks from disturbing your sleep, forgetting that he was still only in his boxer briefs.

Opening it slowly, he was met with three pairs of wide eyes belonging to Steve, Sam, and Nat.

“Hey you guys, could you keep it down? Y/N is getting some rest.”

“Uhuh… I bet she needs it.” Sam replied slowly, still wide-eyed, noting how Bucky’s slightly sweaty.

“So… when did this happen?” It was Steve’s turn to speak up.

“Oh, just this morning. She was running late and I came here with the intention of punishing her for it but I ended up taking care of her.” He explained in a low voice, still oblivious to how their teammates were getting a totally different idea.

“Woah.” Nat muttered under her breath.

“Yeah, I guess her muscles are all sore because she was moving so weakly, and her voice is all hoarse now when she talks, and -”

“Look we’re happy for you, but TMI, Buck! TMI.” Steve cut him off and the three of them scrambled away from your room, with Sam muttering he didn’t need the unwelcomed visuals, and Nat screaming for Wanda.

Now left alone and confused by the doorway, he was trying to figure out why they reacted that way when it finally clicked.

“Fuck.” he whisper-yelled, knowing that the teasing was about to get worse.

——–

Final Part

Permanent tag list: @lizzarooni

Marvel Masterlist

[buckys-black-dress]

see through

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

a/n: i dont have much to say other than that it's 1 am and i needed to get this out of my system. chapter 4 of play the game is underway, i promise. also, there will be a pov switch in this fic!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. = POV change!

wc: 4.1k words

[ neighbor!bucky barnes x fem!reader ]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

-

Every Friday night, without fail, you saw the light filter into your apartment.

Notice how you said night?

Yeah, it was almost two in the morning, by the way.

And why was there light coming through the chiffon curtains you had hanging on the rod above your window?

(Great choice on your part, by the way.)

Well, because of your neighbor.

You've seen him a few times, actually. Usually on the street outside your buildings, or just out and about. Never spoke to him, though. He was quiet, kept to himself. Didn't seem very friendly or willing to exchange a greeting if he ever saw you.

But you never took it personally. Maybe he was having a bad day. Every time you saw him.

But that's besides the point. The point right now is that you can see the lights blaring in your room. From the apartment across from yours.

Should it even be possible for light to travel that far? I mean, we don't even live in the same building. You think to yourself as you watch the colors dance in the dark.

You debate getting up and yelling out your window to tell him to shut that shit off or to invest in some blackout curtains. You were tired of sacrificing your sleep every week.

But then you decided against it, because you quite frankly could not be bothered to get up from the warmth of your bed. You'd tough it out for the night, but the next time you saw him, you'd have a few words for him.

-

The next morning, it was almost ten when you woke up. You didn't have your shift at the coffee shop you worked at until three, so you took your time in making your way out of bed.

You noticed the curtains of your neighbor's apartment were still open, but you could see his figure moving across the room. He was clearly on the phone with someone, and he didn't look too happy. You wondered what could have him so angry at such an early time of the morning. He seemed like a person who could use someone to talk to, someone who he could vent to.

But before you let your thoughts get ahead of you, you turn away from the window, heading back into your kitchen to eat breakfast and get ready for the long day ahead of you.

-

"Hi, what can I get started for you today?" You ask as brightly as you can muster at the moment. You were halfway through your shift, another three hours until close.

"Uh, just a large black coffee." The gruff voice says, and it takes you a second until you look up and look closely.

It was him.

"O-okay, that'll be $3.27." You say, and he hands you a five dollar note before grumbling,

"Keep the change."

"Thanks, and your name?"

He gives you a look that's asking, 'what the fuck do you need my name for?'

"For the order." You try and salvage your dignity, because it feels like the stare shrunk you to a speck of dust.

"James."

That's all he all but growls before turning back to find a seat.

As your coworker takes over the cash register, you grab the biggest cup and fill it with his desired coffee.

You try to not think about it too much, but the anxiety you feel rising up inside you and just calling his name to give him his coffee feels absolutely ridiculous.

"Are you just gonna stare at the cup or give it to the customer?" The voice of your coworker, Jenna, rings in your ears and you look up at her, snapping out of the trance you were in.

"Sorry, I'm just a little out of it today, I guess."

"Everything alright?" She asks, and you nod.

"I'm fine, it's just... that's my neighbor." You nod your head towards where James is sat, in the corner by the window as he watches the raindrops run down the expanse of the glass.

"The one who doesn't let you sleep?"

"Yeah, but I don't think he'd take it too kindly if I tell him about that. He seems to have a lot on his own plate anyways," You explain, and she just nods.

"Well, that sucks, but you still need ta' give the guy his coffee." Jenna smiles and walks back to what she was doing before.

You gently slide out from your spot behind the counter and walk to his table.

"Here's your coffee, James. Enjoy, and- uh, let me know if you'd like anything else." You tell him while placing the steaming cup in front of him.

He murmurs a thank you that you barely catch, but you don't quite have the time to sit and wait for more of a reaction.

For the next several hours, James sits right where he was. He doesn't do anything in particular, either. He just watches outside, as the rain continues to pelt down on New York City, and as people come and go from where they were.

Eventually, about an hour left until close, you offer another cup of coffee.

"Do you want a refill? On the house." You ask gently, waiting to see if you'll get brushed off again.

"Uh... are you allowed to do stuff like that?" He asks, and you're a bit taken aback at the sudden concern.

"I don't think you should worry yourself too much, James. Free coffee's free coffee." You smile lightly, and grab the cup before filling it up without his confirmation. You could tell he wanted to say yes but didn't want to seem rude.

"You didn't have to..." He grumbles, and you simply shake your head.

"I know, but you've been here a while, and what kind of employee would I be if I let a customer sit here without any sustenance?" Your lips ply into a tiny smirk, trying to get him to loosen up a bit.

He seems so guarded, defensive. Like any moment, he's ready to run if need be, you inspect to yourself.

"You'd just be a regular employee, Y/N." He says, but the way he says your name makes a shiver run down your spine; and you can't tell if it's a good or bad one.

You unconsciously look down at your name tag, pinned to your black apron that's branded with the café's logo.

"Well, I felt like being nice. I hope you can deal." Your voice comes out short, but he knows you mean no harm.

As you walk back to the counter, you see a small smile playing on his lips, but he doesn't allow it to manifest on his face. You take that as a small victory for your last hour of work.

(bucky's pov).・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The girl who works at this café is annoying.

But she's got a nice smile. And she's nice to me, Bucky thinks to himself.

He sips on the new coffee you'd just poured for him, without his consent, he thinks bitterly.

But it was a nice gesture.

Why can't you just take a nice gesture?

Because your brain's been scrambled eggs for 70 years. You don't know what to think about anything these days.

He watches you fiddle with the espresso maker, cleaning it with a rag, which you then dip into a bucket.

You look extremely familiar to him, but he can't exactly pin where he's seen you before.

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, trying to recall where he'd seen you, but for a moment, he comes up with nothing.

Ever since he's been living back in the real world, he hasn't been outside too much.

He goes on the occasional walk, or goes to the tower to see Steve and Sam.

But other than that, he spends a lot of time in his Brooklyn apartment. He watches movies that Steve suggests, or he invites Steve and Sam over to have beer and watch TV with him.

He hates how lonely it gets, though.

Bucky wishes that he had someone.

Someone who could understand.

And don't get him wrong, he loves Sam and Steve. They fill in the gaps in his days, and they make them better.

Sometimes, thinking about having something to do that day is what makes it. He likes having something to do, something to plan for for when his friends come over.

But it feels like a teeny, tiny part of his life is missing. A person shaped-hole in his heart.

But Bucky doesn't spend too long thinking about it, or it'll send him into a spiral about failure and how he needs to 'push himself to get out there more.'

Or that's what his therapist says.

"Hey, we're about to close, and we usually throw the pastries out at the end of the day. Do you wanna take these home, by any chance?" Your voice rings in his ears, snapping him out of the impending slippery slope of his lack of love life.

He hesitates to answer for a second, looking at the brown paper bag pinched between your fingers.

Bucky can tell you were nervous when you spoke to him. He knew he made you uneasy, and it killed him inside.

He hated that. He just wanted to have a normal conversation with someone. But everyone seems to know who he is.

Who he was.

"Uh, what is it?" He croaks, unsure of what to say at your gesture.

"It's a few cookies and a chocolate croissant."

"Sure, I'll take 'em." Bucky simply answers, watching as you hand the bag over with a soft smile and watches you walk back.

You sweep up the floor and put up all the chairs, except for the one Bucky's sitting on. You leave his table alone, and bid farewell to your coworker who was scheduled to close with you.

Bucky doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he gets up after he sees you walk out the door, and follows you home.

Damn, if you like a girl, you usually ask for her number or somethin'. Not follow her home to make sure she's safe, you idiot. Bucky's inner voice speaks and sometimes, he wishes it would just shut up because he knows he has no game nowadays, but this is all he knows to do.

He realizes the way you're walking is familiar, and not at all of the way he was supposed to be going. That made him feel a little better, less like a creep. He's about half a block behind you, and when you turn onto the same street he lives on, he's really confused.

Did you know he was behind you? Are you trying to play a trick on him?

But before Bucky can speak up or say something, you walk right past his building, and into the one right next to it.

All of a sudden, images of you right on the street in front of your buildings flash through his head. He's seen you because you're his neighbor. Bucky's seen you right there, getting ready to start your run through the neighborhood, or probably on your way to work, now that he's seen where you work.

But he feels like there's somewhere else he's seen you; somewhere familiar.

He shakes his head, wondering why he's so caught up in you. He thought you were beautiful, but he feels a pull to you that he's never felt with anyone else before.

Bucky's hands move to unlock his door, sliding the key in and twisting the lock open.

He enters, staring at his dark apartment. It's moments like this, when he spends a long day alone, that he wishes there was someone.

Someone to come home to, to hug, to kiss, to share dinner with.

Some to fall asleep with at night. Someone to keep the terrors of the dark away.

But there was no one.

And then his mind thought back to you. Your hair, your face, your warm hands that touched his while you passed him the brown paper bag of treats.

Bucky wishes he was man enough to ask you out. Not even that, just to talk to you. Have a normal conversation, to get to know you.

But that wasn't in the cards for him anytime soon, he thinks.

For now, he focuses on taking things one at a time. And right now, all he wanted was a nice, warm shower and to get at least three hours of sleep tonight.

He's in his room, forgoing the lights for now, before he looks out his window.

For a moment, he believes his eyes are playing tricks on him.

There's absolutely no way that you are standing right there, right outside his window.

Well, in your own apartment, of course.

And there's absolutely no way in hell that Bucky is watching you undress right now.

As soon as you pull off your top, Bucky turns around before he could get more than a peek of your black lace bra, and he feels a burn in the pit of his stomach.

He can't tell if it's shame, guilt, or arousal.

(y/n's pov).・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You couldn't stop thinking about James all day.

After yesterday, you wondered why you couldn't shake this feeling about him.

He'd made it quite clear that he's not a people person. Or maybe he just wasn't a you person.

But again, you tried to not take things too personally these days.

Sometimes, you wondered, though, as you looked through your bedroom window to his some nights.

You imagined what it would be like, watching one of those movies with him at night. Making dinner with him. Having coffee in the mornings before work, wondering what he did for a living.

You chastise yourself for your thoughts, thinking that you were crazy for these ideas you were coming up with out of nowhere.

As you pull off your clothes to get ready for bed, you feel the same emptiness fill your heart when your head hits the pillow, and another day has gone by where you're all alone.

-

The next day, your shift was at ten in the morning so you were up early.

You took your time in rolling out of bed. The warmth of your duvet was holding you down, and you couldn't help take a peek out your window.

You see that the room facing yours is finally housing a body in the bed. In all the time you'd been living across him, you've only seen him on the floor.

You feel a warm flutter at that. Whatever reason led him to actually sleep in the bed last night was, you hope you played a role in it.

-

You make your way to the café, and although walking in the rain wasn't ideal, you made it, somehow.

You clock in and head to the register, ready to take the millions of orders that come in through the day.

"Hi- oh! Welcome back. What can I get you?" Your tone of voice made it clear you were surprised, but was trying to not let it show.

"Uhm, just the same as yesterday, and... Can I get a chocolate croissant?" Bucky's gruff voice tells you.

You ring him up, wondering if you should say something about him being your neighbor. Although, he didn't seem too keen on looking you in the eye right now, and you wonder if you did something to make him uncomfortable yet again.

He seems to have this issue quite often.

Little do you know, this time, it isn't because of you or anything you did.

Well, nothing you did on purpose.

Nothing you were aware of at the time.

Anyways, you tell James to go take a seat and that you'd be right out with his order.

"Here you go, James," you place the plate and mug on the table, and this time, when you hear him say something, you turn around with furrowed brows.

"Sorry, I didn't catch what you said." You apologize, waiting for him to repeat himself.

"I- nevermind, it was stupid anyways. You probably have to get back to work." He mumbles while looking back down at his pastry.

"James, whatever it is, you can tell me." You offer with a kind smile. "I can come sit with you during my break, if you don't mind?" A hopeful smile crosses your face.

"Uh, I- yes, yeah, that would be nice." He struggles for a moment, but finally nods his head in confirmation along with his words.

"Alright, James. I get off in an hour for my break." You simply tell him with a soft grin, and you can practically feel his eyes burning into you as you walk away.

The blush creeping up your cheeks also stays there until the remainder of your shift.

-

As you plop in the chair across from James, you inspect him for a moment.

He was attractive, you'll admit.

Okay, he was more than attractive.

"So, James, where are you from?" You ask, your own cup of coffee in front of you on the table.

"Well, I'm Brooklyn born 'nd raised. Never was a time I didn't live here. You?" His lip twitches, looking out the window fondly.

"That's nice. I moved here when I was nine, so I guess I've been here a while. But no matter where I go, there's nowhere like home." You smile.

"There really isn't, huh? This place is irreplaceable." He gives you a crack of another smile, and you find yourself yearning for more from him. Just a tooth, something.

"Well, do you live around here?" You ask, deciding to play coy. You wanted to see what he'd say.

"Uh, yeah, actually. Over on DeKalb and Clinton." He clears his throat, the hint of a smile on his face melting right off.

"Huh, that's so funny. I live on those streets too." You grin, waiting to see his reaction.

"O-Oh really?" James doesn't really know what to say without giving away that he knows where you fucking live.

"Yeah, isn't that funny? Which building?" You're pressing, and you know he knows, but you're having your fun right now.

"T-the uhm... I live in the Washington." He's now making zero eye contact with you, and you're close to breaking.

"What a coincidence! I live in the Oakley!" You're in a fit of giggles when his face drops, you just can't help it anymore.

"James, can I tell you something?" You ask in a coquettish manner.

"Yeah, I suppose you'll tell me even if I say no." He gives a tight smile as a joke.

"I don't wanna sound like a creep, but I knew you lived in the Washington."

"Oh," James releases a breath of relief, "thank God. I knew you lived in the Oakley, but I didn't wanna sound like a stalker either." He says.

You laugh, sliding a hand on top of his resting on the table.

"Y'know, you do this really annoying thing where you leave your movies running on full brightness on your TV, and I can see it through my windows at night." You laugh at the incredulity of the situation.

"Oh... I never even thought of that. I'm sorry, Y/N." He looks genuinely remorseful, and now you feel bad for any bad thought you've had about the man that lives across from you.

"It's alright. No big deal." Your smile does a good job of convincing Bucky that you truly weren't bothered by his actions, but he still felt bad.

"Y'know, maybe I could make it up to you?" He asks, and you feel a blush moving up your chest. "Like, maybe over dinner?" His voice is timid, you can tell by the way he tilts his head down while speaking.

"James," you slide your hand into his this time, your smaller one resting in his large metal one. "I'd love to go out with you sometime."

Before he could react, you stood up from the chair.

"My break's over, but I get off at 3." You lean down and pull a pen from your apron, scribbling your number onto a napkin. "Here."

You walk away before he could say anything, but there's something about him this time that you notice.

He's blushing, too. And he's smiling. A bright, white, blinding smile.

You think of that smile throughout your whole shift, until you see he's still waiting for you when it's time to go.

"So, do you like Chinese or Italian better?" He asks with a crooked smile.

-

bonus scene:

six months later

You and Bucky are laid across your bed, the TV blaring a movie that neither of you are paying attention to. Your head is resting on his shoulder, leg thrown over both of his, and his hand running through your hair.

"You wanna know somethin' doll?" Bucky asks, and you feel his chest rumble under your head.

"Yeah, everything okay?" You ask while leaning up on your elbow to get a good look at him, trying to gauge his mood.

"Everything's okay, just remembered something." He laughs, his hand moving to hold your jaw in it. You shivered at the touch, but smiled fondly at the action.

"When I first saw you at the coffee shop, that first day when you gave the free coffee and pastries... I followed you home."

Your brows furrow and it's clear that you were confused as to why.

"I wanted to make sure you got home safe, and then it turned out that you lived right next to me. So I went up to my apartment and wondered what I'd done right in a past life to have you live right next to me, and then I saw you lived right across from me." His face was tipped upwards, like he was replaying that night in his head.

"You followed me home just to make sure I was safe?" You asked in disbelief that he did something so nice for you, when at the time you thought he hated you.

"Of course, sweetheart. It was dark out and there 're some real jerks out there, y'know." One corner of his mouth lifts up in a soft smirk. "Didn't want anything to happen to ya."

You lean down and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, appreciating his gesture.

"I really thought you didn't like me back then, so this is a nice little secret you've been hiding from me." You giggle when he pulls you back in for a real kiss.

"Yeah, well, I don't think I could'a hated you if I tried, baby. You're too sweet. And at the time, I was still getting used to being out in the open without being a national security threat." You both laugh lightly, dropping your head down.

A moment passes where you bask in his words, letting them soak in. And then a thought hits you, and you can't help but become more curious. Now you need to know the answer.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, hon." Now Bucky's brows are pulled together, and you reach up and smooth out the wrinkle with your thumb.

"Did you ever... see me doing anything in here? Like, I usually keep the curtains open, and even if they're closed, they're pretty see-through..." You trail off, giving him time to craft his response.

You have a feeling you know the answer, considering how he turns red like a tomato in an instant as words leave your lips.

"I... there was this one time, but I swear, I wasn't trying to peep on you or anything, it was the same day I followed you and I just so happened to look into your window, and you were getting undressed, but I swear, I turned away as soon as I saw what you were doing, baby-" He was rambling, trying to save himself from sounding like a complete creep after all he's just told you.

"Did you like it?" You ask, innocently, but he knew what you were trying to do.

"I-I- You were getting undressed, sweetheart, of course I liked it... are you kidding me?" Bucky's grasping for the words, trying to make you understand.

"Well... we could always recreate it, but maybe in the same apartment this time?" You cock your head to the side, your doe eyes stirring a feeling in his abdomen.

"I think that's an excellent idea, honey." Bucky's hands grasp your waist as you slide on top of his lap. "After all, I am a hands on learner."

-

fin. i hope you enjoyed!

[theneondemonx]

MY TYPE | JJK

One Shot

▽ summary: you’ve never liked fuckboys, especially one Jeon Jungkook. But when you find yourself late at night playing a game of seven minutes in heaven with your college friends, things take a different turn.

▽ genre: porn with very little plot, college au

▽ pairings: fuckboy|jk x fem!reader

▽ words: 2192

▽ warnings: implied alcohol use, jk jerked off to your insta pics (y/n living the dream), oral sex (m receiving, deep throating), unprotected sex, lots of cum, dirty talk, nipple play, jk has a big dick

A chorus of ooohs filled the messy living room in which you and your friends were sitting in circle. It was late and most of the party guests had already gone back home, leaving just a small bunch of you and a pile of garbage all over the house. You would have gladly leave the place way earlier if it wasn’t for your best friend Se-mi, who you promised to drive back home. She insisted in staying longer to hit on Min Yoongi, one of your fellow classmates from the same major, but the guy seemed to barely notice. He might even been interested in her for all you knew: there was no way of telling, since he was always so introverted. The only person he spoke to was his disaster of a friend, Jeon Jungkook, the campus playboy.

How do they even get along? They have literally nothing in common.

And you knew this, since you had been often paired with Yoongi for some group projects during the years. The guy was cool. He was really smart and funny when you actually got to know him. He just didn’t open up easily. That’s why, even though you’ve had the opportunity to chat with him several times, you couldn’t really say you two were friends.

But back to the ooohs. The reason behind that childish reaction was to trace in the empty bottle of beer who had just stop spinning, pointing at you and the infamous Jeon Jungkook, who was having the time of his life – judging from the mischievous grin on his face.

You weren’t blind, you knew he was hot as fuck, but he was way too aware of his good looks and terribly overconfident. He was known to have slept with most girls on campus, and you were pretty sure he was more dedicated to keep his record than to actually graduate. Which, for a good student like you, was infuriating.

You had always found him annoying and obnoxious. And on top of that, you couldn’t figure out how girls seemed to fall for his cheesy lines every single time, throwing themselves at him like he was the only guy with a dick.

Sure, you didn’t really knew the guy, but in your opinion there wasn’t much to know about him. He was a cliché. And you couldn’t help but roll your eyes every time he tried to hit on you. Because he did. Of course he did. You were just his favorite type of prey: one that was not easy to catch.

“Well, you know the rules, guys. The closet is right at the end of the corridor. You have to stay in there for seven minutes. If you get out earlier, you have to kiss in front of everybody for the remaining time. And if you don’t get out.. well.. good for you.”

“Don’t worry, Jimin. Seven minutes are more than enough.” You said with a sarcastic tone, giving him a fake smile while you got up and adjusted your skirt.

Jungkook scoffed, getting up and leaning closer to your ear to talk in a low voice, but loud enough for the others to hear.

“You must have had some pretty lame sex if you think so. Hope I’ll change your mind.”

“You’re disgusting.”

And that’s how you found yourself sharing the tightest possible space with a known fuckboy like Jeon Jungkook.

As soon as you entered the closet, you pushed your back against one of the walls, folding your arms to your chest to make him understand in every possible way that you weren’t going to give into any of his shenanigans. Stupid move, since your shirt was a bit low-cut and that only made your tits pop up even more, looking like a four course meal to the blatant gaze of Jungkook.

“No class to run to this time, mh?” he immediately uttered, giving you a malicious smile while leaning with his shoulder against the door frame.

“Unfortunately.”

He rolled his eyes, darkened even more by the dim light of the small space you were both trapped in.

“Oh come on, do you really want to turn this game into seven minutes in hell? You don’t necessarily have to be a mood killer.”

“I just don’t like you, Jungkook. I know you are not used to hear it, but that’s just how it is.”

Your comeback didn’t seem to affect him at all. If anything, he just made him chuckle and slightly shake his head.

Seriously? You are that full of yourself?

“Ok, so it’s another Y/L/N Y/N who liked my photo at the gym from three years ago and then changed her whole profile in a ridiculous attempt to hide it.”

Your eyes widened and your cheeks turned suddenly red. You got caught.

“It was a mistake.” You tried to explain yourself, knowing too well that there was nothing you could say to go back from that.

He raised his eyebrow, looking straight at you from underneath his eyelashes.

“You scrolled through all my Instagram profile by mistake?”

No you didn’t. You just got curious. That’s the kind of shit you did at three in the morning when you couldn’t sleep. You just find yourself looking for weird stuff on the internet and scrolling through profiles of people you barely knew for no apparent reason. It was just a bonus point the fact that Jungkook’s profile was full of pictures of his body sculped by the gods. Sure, you were annoyed by his attitude, but you were still a woman.

“And you did it so very late at night, if I might add.” He said, taking a step forward towards you. “What were you doing, Y/N? Looking for something interesting?”

You blushed so hard that you were pretty sure he could see the redness in your cheeks even despite the poor lighting in the closet. But you couldn’t help but stare at him in the eyes like a deer caught in headlights, unable to look away from his hypnotic gaze.

“I wasn’t.” You murmured, defensively.

“You don’t have to feel ashamed, you know? I was awake too – thank God, if I might add. I would have missed it otherwise. I would have found myself locked out of that mysterious profile, unable to look at your cute pictures.” He paused, leaning way too close to your face. “Don’t tell anyone, but I had some fun with those.”

Normally, you would have told him that he was sickening, but for some reason you felt a pleasant warmth irradiating in your belly. You couldn’t help but picture him jerking off to your photos, and it wasn’t sickening at all. If anything, it was weirdly enticing.

He rested his palm on the wall, right next to your face, and looked down at your body like he was ready to devour it in one bite.

“I recognized the skirt, you know?”

You didn’t remember wearing it in one of your pictures, but it was plausible: that skirt was one of your favorites. Cute and short, but not too revealing.

“Well, I hope you saved the picture, because that’s all you’re gonna get.”

This was your response, when you actually found the courage to talk. But your voice was so low and shaky that you found it hard yourself to believe your own words. Of course he didn’t fall for it.

“Are you sure?”

You bit your lip, nodding in a last ridiculous attempt to give yourself a standoffish look, which again he didn’t buy at all.

He got even closer, slightly pressing his body against yours until your heavy breaths were melting into one another and you could feel his hardness on your stomach.

You did not respond. You were brain dead. All you could feel was your core painfully clenching around nothing and your blood flowing down to your lower belly, emptying your head of any thought beside those filled with the desire to feel his body.

“Mh.. okay..” he said, gently resting his hand on your thigh and starting to go further up with an excruciating slow pace. “So you don’t like this.”

It wasn’t a question, but it was clear he was looking for a reply you were unable to give. A soft moan escaped your lips at his gentle touch, which you didn’t move away from. A silent green light for him to go even further up, taking his caress under the hem of your skirt until his digits were brushing the damp fabric of your underwear.

“You want me to stop, Y/N?”

His words were a mere whisper against your lips to which you couldn't help but faintly gasp.

“No.” You found yourself saying, right before being cut off by the kiss he gave you, pressing his lips against yours and spreading them open for his tongue to enter your mouth.

You moaned, melting like pudding against his body while his fingers started drawing slow circles on your sensitive clit.

“For someone who finds me disgusting you got yourself soaking wet pretty fast, princess.”

His provocative words only got you wetter and needier, pushing you to the edge of your psychological barricade. Your hands rushed to his belt, unbuckling it with fast and sloppy movements until you could zip down his jeans, letting his hard cock spring free in front of you.

Fuck he’s big.

He seemed to have somehow read your thoughts in your eyes, since he chuckled, guiding your hand to wrap around his width and slightly moving it up and down while letting out a raspy moan.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and take me in your mouth, princess?”

You licked your lips, looking up at him with your eyes filled with lust while you slowly got to your knees. You never broke eye contact, pumping him slowly but steadily before swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock, covered with precum.

“Tastes good?”

“Mhmh.” You nodded with a mischievous smile on your face.

Your mouth soon wrapped around his cock, taking it all in until you started gaggin a bit for the length. A reaction which made him moan loudly and grab your hair, steadying his grip in order to guide your head in the increasing pace.

“Fuck your mouth feels so good.”

“You like it? Is this what you pictured while jerking off to my photos?” You said during a small pause, not even giving him the time to respond with anything but a loud moan, since you immediately got back to deep throating his cock like it was your last meal.

“Fuck I’m close.”

Those words only made you move faster, keeping your eyes locked with his to take in every ounce of pleasure you could get from him. And at that point there wasn’t much he could do to hold back. You suddenly felt his hot semen spilling down your throat.

However, you only had the time to swallow before he leaned down, wrapping his arm around your waist and lifting you up with ridiculous ease.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, letting him push you against the wall and move your wet panties to the side to sink deep inside your throbbing core.

You let out a sharp moan, welcoming his size between your tight walls with pleasurable pain. One of his hands got under your shirt and bra, squeezing your breast and tracing circles with his thumb on your hard nipple.

“Look at you. You got so wet just by sucking my cock, baby?”

His words were again a lustful whisper against your parted lips, but you were unable to respond – your voice cut by the deep thrusts he was torturing you with. You were sure, however, that the lewd sounds of your wetness were enough of an answer to him.

“Such a pretty little slut. What are you gonna tell the others when they’ll see my cum dripping down your thighs?”

You moaned loudly, helping his pace with the movements of your own hips to take him even deeper.

“I’m gonna tell them that this lame sex little slut made you come twice in a row.”

He groaned, thrusting harder in you.

“You are so fucking hot.”

The pace got quicker and quicker until you found yourself out of breath, calling his name in between moans while your legs started shivering, signaling your forthcoming orgasm. And when it came, it hit you like a train, making you grab his hair and moan loudly while your walls clenched around his cock. You felt him twitch inside you until he sank deep with sloppy thrusts, releasing his orgasm inside you with a raspy moan.

You two took some moments to relax your racing heartbeats, leaning against each other's forehead with eyes closed and heavy breaths.

When you felt again capable of speaking, you let out a pretty laugh, pressing your palm against his cheek.

“Hope this memory will serve you well for your future lonely nights.”

He laughed, caressing your nose with the tip of his.

“Trust me, this won’t stay in the past.”

“Jerkass.”

“Nerd.”

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Seized

An addition to Approval. Do not read this until reading that first. 

Character: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader // Damian Wayne x Batmom

Summary: What happens when Talia Al Ghul learns that someone has stolen the affections of her past lover and her son?

Word Count: 3,000 [One Shot]

“Delinquents have been detained. I can hear the sirens,” Damian stated calmly in his comms.

“Good work, Robin. You know where to meet me. You have a minute,” Bruce responded as he whipped the bat mobile through Crime Alley to grab his son.

Just as Damian opened the door and hopped in, an alarm went off within the vehicle.

“The Manor,” Damian thought aloud as he read the screens with his father.

Bruce ignored his comment and was calling Alfred immediately.

“Master Wayne,” the butler instantly picked up. “I followed protocol, but they were already gone when I arrived.”

“Y/N…” Bruce immediately asked.

“They took her,” Alfred told him, distress clear in his tone.

Damian’s head whipped to his father to watch his reaction.

But Bruce’s jaw only tightened and he sped the batmobile even faster.

Returning faster to Wayne Manor than ever before, Bruce jumped out of the batmobile and up the secret entrance to get to the main house.

Damian was hot on his heels. He’d already sent an encrypted message to his brothers, informing them of the situation. It was only a matter of time before they were at the manor as well. Though Damian suspected Jason would not come, instead already starting to scour the streets of Gotham for Y/N and her captors.

Alfred was already waiting for them. “Master Wayne, I am so sorry.”

Bruce ignored him and walked to the master bedroom. Y/N would’ve been sleeping when the attack occurred. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had been awake, she had no training in self defense. She was merely an innocent civilian.

“Father,” Damian muttered quietly.

Bruce turned around to find his son ripping a shuriken out of the door frame.

They shared a look, both recognizing the particular shape and color.

“The League…” Damian muttered quietly, saying what they both were thinking.

——————

Y/N was barely awake.

They clearly had drugged her with something to make her more compliant. Everything was foggy and muffled.

Yet they still tied her hands and ankles together, as if her brain could even manage to get her body to move.

But Y/N could feel the effects of the drugs losing their strength, yet keeping their hold on her.

She squinted as she looked around. The air felt different. It was colder and dryer, making Y/N believe that she was no longer in Gotham. Little did she know, she wasn’t even in the country any longer.

“I do not know what he sees in you,” a woman hummed from somewhere in the room.

Y/N blinked as he listened, but her eyes could not adjust to the low lighting and she didn’t even have the strength to turn her head.

“You are weak. Ripped from your own bed without so much as a fight.”

Then she heard the grunts and clashing of metal.

The woman smiled. “Right as expected, my son.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed at ‘my son.’ Then she finally lifted her head and took in her surroundings. There were swords and other weapons stored everywhere, and there was armor hung from the walls.

“Talia?” She whispered.

The woman chuckled. “Weak, but not utterly foolish.”

Then the door of the room was thrown open.

Y/N looked to see Damian in his Robin uniform.

“My son, finally returned," Talia greeted with a smirk.

“Mother.” Then his gaze flickered to Y/N. Very subtly, he was scanning her body to access any possible injuries.

His gaze turned back to his mother. “What is the meaning of this?”

“You have forgotten where you come from, Damian. You are not just the heir to the Wayne family. Before anything else, you are my son and the heir to Ra's al Ghul’s throne.”

“She has nothing to do with this,” Damian said with a gesture to Y/N.

“She has everything to do with this,” Talia snapped. “She has made you weak.”

Damian said nothing.

“She has taken you both from me,” Talia growled.

“Father does not love you,” he growled.

“A small lapse in judgment on his part, but not something that cannot be remedied. Our love gave us you, and I fully believe he will return to me.”

“His heart belongs to someone else. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you can give up your fantasy.” Then he hesitated to say the next part. “I never plan on returning to The League of Shadows. I wish to stay with father.”

Talia’s amusement vanished at her sons words.

The next second, she unsheathed her sword. “Perhaps I should just kill her and remind you of your place, my son.”

With that, Damian rushed forward and intercepted Talia’s attack with his own sword.

“Do not touch her,” Damian growled.

Their swords continued to clash as the mother and son fought each other. The fight raged on for what felt like forever. Too evenly matched, but also both too terrible at hiding that neither actually wanted to kill the other.

In the distance, Y/N could hear even more fighting. She could only assume it was Bruce fighting his way to her and his son.

Talia and Damian’s swords locked again, both of their stances shaking from the hold.

“Do you really think you and your father stand a chance against the entire League? Why do you think we lured you all the way here? You are outnumbered.” Talia hissed.

“You think us foolish enough to come alone?” Damian smirked right before there was a boom that shook the entire compound.

Talia’s focus slipped half a second, allowing Damian a window to go on the offense.

He flipped his mother’s sword out of her grip and held his own to her throat.

“Yield,” he growled down to her.

“You truly choose her over your own mother?” The hurt in her eyes was clear.

“You abandoned me, used me as a tool to disrupt father’s life. She taught me that there is more to life than killing and destroying. She loves me and care for me, even when I gave her no reason to do so.”

“And it will be the death of you,” Talia warned.

He glared at her. “Yield!”

But he knew she would never. So he whipped out a dart and blew it to her neck – a sedative.  It knocked her out within seconds.

Waiting until he was sure it had worked, Damian sheathed his sword once again and ran to Y/N’s side.

With a knife, he cut the ropes around her wrists and ankles.

“D-Damian,” her voice was still slurred from the drugs and she was weak. How long had she been here without food or water? “I don’t think I can walk."

Damian helped her to her feet. “Y/N, please try,” he begged as he wrapped her around around his shoulders. He was still just a boy, one that was shorter than her. But he wouldn’t give up that easily.

There was another explosion.

“What’s-What’s happening?” Y/N asked as she dragged her feet and held on tightly.

“That would be Todd, most likely taking his job of distracting to an unnecessary level.”

“You all came?” She asked in shock.

“Of course,” Damian scoffed.

Suddenly an object came flying at them and Y/N cried out in pain.

“No!” Damian bellowed as he looked up to see that another League member was attempting to stop their escape. And with it, they had thrown a shuriken that had landed in Y/N’s side.

She dropped to the ground.

Damian screamed as he unsheathed his sword once again and charged the assassin. It wouldn’t take him long. He knew that every minute spent fighting was a minute Y/N was bleeding out and edging closer to death.

He didn’t hold back like he had with his mother and quickly disarmed the enemy. Then thrusting his sword into a nonfatal area of his body, enough to neutralize him. 

Damian rushed back to Y/N’s side, where a pool of blood was forming from her wound.

He knew it was useless, but he still tried to lift Y/N into his arms to carry her. He cried out in both panic and frustration.

The building had now caught aflame due to Jason’s explosions. Damian would need to call for backup, hoping one of his older brothers could help.

Then a shadow was cast over him.

Damian tensed, believing it to be another attack.

But he looked up to find his father standing before them.

However, Bruce’s gaze was on his unconscious girlfriend.

With the arrival of his father, Damian’s cold and calculating disposition melted.

“She’s hurt,” his voice trembled and tears formed in his eyes. “Help her.”

Damian rarely cried. He cried less than grown men. He was raised that way. It didn’t help that his father was not a great example of healthy emotional expression.

But Bruce knew what his sons tears were for: Damian was frustrated, he felt weak, and he thought he had failed his mission. But most of all, Bruce knew his son was crying for fear of Y/N’s death. Because the boy had grown to love her.

As if there were a world when Bruce wouldn’t give his own life to save Y/N.

Bruce bent down and carefully brought Y/N into his arms.

Damian heard her mutter his father’s name, though still delirious from both the drugs he’s sure his mother pumped into her and the blood loss.

“Red Robin, get the jet to my coordinates immediately,” Bruce instructed through his comms.

Damian wondered how his father could be so calm when the woman he loved was bleeding out in his arms. This wasn’t bat business, this was personal. But Bruce spoke like it was just another night of patrol.

A few minuets later, Damian and Bruce had fought their way through the flames and burning compound.

Tim lowered the platform of the jet.

Damian made sure his father and Y/N got on before he followed. He turned and gave one last look at the burning compound that would no longer exist come morning. He did not fear for his mother’s life. He knew someone from the League would come for her – if she didn’t save herself first.

When he boarded the jet, his father already had Y/N on the surgical table that elevated from the jet floor.

Bruce had taken off his cowl, allowing Damian and his brothers to study his expressions.

Damian had been wrong about his father handling the situation like any other mission. For now he could see the terror and worry in his father’s eyes, despite him trying to control his emotions.

Damian looked to Jason, who still had his Red Hood helmet on.

“My grandfather?” He asked his brother.

“Escaped,” Jason muttered.  

Damian stepped forward to help Bruce with Y/N’s injuries.

“She’ll be OK,” he muttered to his father.

All of them had high-level medical training to know.

Thankfully the assassin’s aim was not great and didn’t land in lethal place on Y/N’s body. But she still lost a lot of blood and would need many stitches.

All the brother’s shared a look when Bruce ignored the statement. 

———

Y/N woke up to someone gripping her hand. She recognized from the smell and the feel of the bedding that she was in Bruce’s bed at the manor.

She winced as she opened her eyes to find Bruce was the one holding her hand as he sat in a chair only inches away from the side of the bed.

“Hi,” she whispered to him with a sad smile.

“Hi,” he said back with a smirk.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Two days.”

Then Y/N looked past Bruce to realize there was someone else in the room.

Damian passed out on the velvet chaise that was pushed against the windows.

“He hasn’t left your side,” Bruce told her. “Dick had to convince him just to take a shower for 5 minutes when we first got back.”

Y/N’s heart melted at the revelation.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

The sound of Bruce’s voice as he said it made Y/N’s gaze snap back to him. Had it shook? Or was she imagining it?

Y/N squeezed his hand that was still wrapped around hers. 

“I know,” she told him with a sympathetic look.

He hid it well, but Y/N knew Bruce. And she knew that her being kidnapped from his own home probably drove him mad with guilt. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already designed an entirely new security system to prevent something like that ever happening again.

Bruce took in a shaky breath and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

He wanted to say that he always feared her being with him would put her in danger like this. 

He wanted to say that maybe she should stay away from him. 

He wanted to say that him and the kids didn’t deserve her. 

He wanted to say that the only reason this happened is because Talia hated that she loved her son better than she ever did.

But Bruce had never been good at saying how he actually felt – or even acknowledging he had any feelings at all.

So Y/N brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. “Bruce, I know,” she said once again.

“I won’t let it happen again. I promise you,” he told her evenly.

“Bruce, I knew what I signed up for when you told me you were Batman. If I wasn’t willing to face the reality of it, I wouldn’t have stayed.”

“No one would’ve blamed you if you hadn’t.”

There was a knock at the door and then it opened a second later.

Damian jumped awake at the sound. But then he quickly brought his attention to Y/N. “You’re awake.”

But everyone’s attention was on Dick, who was standing at the open doorway.

“Hey,” he greeted Y/N, surprised to see that she was awake. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore. Tired. But I’ll be alright.”

He seemed to relax from her answer.

Then he winced when he looked at Bruce. “They put the signal up.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

He was about to open his mouth to ask them to handle it, not wanting to leave Y/N alone now that she had woken up.

“Go, Bruce. I’ll be OK.” Y/N told him, reading his mind.

“I think it’s the Joker,” Dick added with a serious frown.

“Bruce, go.” Y/N repeated.

And he saw the sincerity in her eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her gently, deciding he didn’t care if his two sons were witnesses to the intimacy.

Then Bruce kissed her forward. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Alfred will be here if you need anything. Do not hesitate to call.”

Y/N nodded.

Bruce stood up and acknowledged Damian and Dick. “Let’s go.”

Once they were ways down the hall, Bruce heard Damian stop.

“Father?”

Bruce and Dick both turned to face Damian.

“I wish to stay with Y/N.”

Bruce and Dick shared a look, and then Dick decided to give the two a moment alone and muttered something about waiting in the cave.

Bruce walked back to his youngest son.

Damian’s gaze was glued on the floor. “Mother truly would’ve killed her?”

Bruce sighed. “Most likely, yes.” He saw no point in lying to his son.

“Because she knows that you and I love her?”

“Yes.”

Damian was quiet for a moment. But Bruce knew he had more to say.

“I used to think I had to earn it.”

Bruce frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Mother’s love. I had to earn it. Win in combat. Successfully execute a target. Outsmart a puzzle or challenge.” Damian looked up at his father with a broken expression. “Her love always came with a price.”

Bruce kneeled down to his son.

The boy shook his head. “But Y/N made me realize that I don’t have to earn anyone’s love. I don’t have to prove that I’m worthy of it.” He bit his lip. “She’s not my father or my brother. She didn’t have to love me. But she does…even when I did nothing to earn it.”

“Everyone is deserving of love, Damian.” Bruce gripped his son’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for not teaching you that myself.”

Damian nodded. “So, may I please stay with her tonight? I don’t want her to be alone.” But then he quickly corrected himself. “Unless of course, you require my assistance, father.”

Bruce smirked at him. “I think we will manage, Damian.” Then he squeezed his shoulder. “Look after her for me, alright?”

Damian relaxed and quickly nodded his head. “Of course, father.”

When Bruce returned hours later, Damian was cuddled next to Y/N in the bed. But clearly laying in a position to be mindful of her injuries. Both were fast asleep. The bright television was the only thing lighting the room, as it played a Pixar movie.

Bruce couldn’t help but grin at the sight.

“I got him,” Dick whispered to him before stepping into the room and carefully lifting the boy in his arms, clearing the space in the bed for Bruce to join Y/N.

Bruce moved about the room as he changed into cotton shorts and went without a shirt.

Y/N woke slightly as he joined her in bed.

“Everything OK?” She whispered sleepily.

“Everything’s fine. Did Damian keep you company?”

Y/N smiled and shifted her body so she was cuddle into him. “Yes…my little protector.”

Bruce smiled at that. “Don’t let him hear the ‘little’ part…”

She chuckled. “Good call.” 

And then she was fast asleep once again.

-----------------------

Please, please, please let me know what you think! 

[honeypiehotchner]

you’re still a traitor (Hotch x Fem!Reader) — one shot

This is all angst because my brain wanted to write something based off “traitor” by Olivia Rodrigo 🤭🤭🤭

Warnings: angst, mentions of sex, mentions of excessive drinking as a coping mechanism, no happy ending (and no there won’t be a part 2 soz)

Hotch Masterlist || Main Masterlist

brown guilty eyes and little white lies i played dumb but i always knew

Your relationship with Hotch wasn’t even a real relationship. Not in hindsight, at least. At the heart of it, though, as it was happening, it felt real. It felt more real than anything you had ever experienced.

Nothing was glorified, over-exaggerated, or unnecessary. You’ve always been a straight-to-the-point person, and so has he, so it struck neither of you by surprise when you began spending nights together on cases.

The tension between the two of you had always been high from the day you started at the BAU. He blames it on the skirt you wore to the interview. You blame it on the way he looked you up and down every chance he got.

No wonder he didn’t look surprised to find you on the other side of his hotel room door.

That first night you had said something stupid, something about the girls being lame and going to bed early. But the truth was that they were raiding the minibar, and as much as you wanted to join them, you wanted to see Hotch more.

You knew he didn’t sleep much. It wasn’t hard to conclude, not with his recent divorce, late hours, entire pots of coffee to himself, and dark circles under his eyes.

Not to mention, of course, the small throw pillow and blanket that magically appeared on the couch in his office one day.

You weren’t surprised when he opened the hotel room door, still fully dressed, minus his jacket. You were barely a fourth of a way through your explanation for turning up at his door when he pulled you inside, lips bruising yours and hands gripping your skirt.

To him, it was always the damn skirt.

That night was the first of many. No one knew. No one knows now. Hotch continued to book you a room of your own, and you continued to spend your nights in his bed.

You mastered the art of sneaking to his room after everyone was in, and sneaking back to yours before anyone woke up.

Occasionally, you’d stay back at the BAU until everyone had left, just to spend a moment more with Hotch.

loved you at your worst but that didn’t matter

No one knows this, but you’re the reason his dark circles left. The reason he didn’t stay as late anymore. Because you always coaxed him away, wanting dinner, or even just company as you walked to your car (where you’d then ask for dinner, or rightfully point out that he’s already at the parking garage, so he might as well go home).

Dinner one night turned into almost every night, except when he had Jack. Sleeping in his bed once became almost every night, except when Jack wanted to spend the night.

A label was never spoken about, but you never felt the need to speak about it. As far as you were concerned, you were the only one he was sleeping with and vice versa. Why did a label matter?

That’s what you told yourself, at least. Labels didn’t matter to you. Exclusivity is all that mattered, and you had that. You thought.

You had suspected Hotch started seeing someone else. But all you had was a gut feeling, and a feeling isn’t enough evidence.

i kept quiet so i could keep you

Soon it wasn’t just a feeling. Soon Hotch didn’t want to go to dinner anymore because he was leaving earlier than you — earlier than anyone else. Soon he started actually leaving for lunch on his lunch hour, and that’s when the rumors started swarming.

“Okay,” Garcia ushered everyone over in the bullpen. “Is. Hotch. Dating?”

Rossi chuckled. “I. Don’t. Know.”

Morgan shook his head. “Nah, that sounds like he knows something.”

“Not really,” you shrugged. “Why do we think he’s dating someone?”

“Are you kidding me?” Garcia gasped. “He just left the building on his lunch hour! I’ve never seen him leave for lunch the entire time I’ve been here.”

“Me either,” JJ agreed, to your horror.

“Maybe it’s just something with Jack,” you shrugged again, not even aware of your defensive tone.

Prentiss narrowed her eyes. “Do you know something?”

“What?” You blurted, eyes wide. “No? Am I supposed to?”

“Answering a question with a question,” Reid pointed out lowly.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” you said. You grimace, thinking about it now, but you didn’t have any energy then to know it was rude. Or to care.

You were paranoid. Horrified. You were in Hotch’s bed two nights ago, and now he was leaving on his lunch hour, and you had no idea what for. All signs pointed right where the rest of the team was thinking, but the thought made you sick.

So sick that the next night, when you found yourself once again in Hotch’s bed, you brought it up.

You tried to be nonchalant. You don’t know where it went wrong.

ain’t it funny? remember i brought her up and you told me i was paranoid

“How was lunch yesterday?”

His eyebrows furrowed. Something you used to gaze at in awe, but in that moment it made you panic. “Lunch?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “You left for lunch and the whole team thought something was up.”

He merely hummed. Hummed. That was his reply.

“Emily thought I knew where you went,” you continued, tracing circles on your arm. Normally, you’d trace circles on his chest, but that felt wrong all of the sudden. “I told them I didn’t and they didn’t believe me.”

He chuckled quietly. “I went to lunch. That’s all.”

“With who?” You asked, far too quickly. Maybe that was your mistake. You were too accusatory too fast.

“Did it have to be with someone?” He retaliated, and looking back now, you see this moment here, this was the downfall.

“I mean,” you paused. “You normally stay in your office if you’re eating alone. I figured if you left then you were going to meet someone.”

“Oh.”

You hesitated. “Did you?”

“Yes,” he finally said, ripping the Band-Aid off once and for all. “Her name is Beth. But we’re just friends.”

You nodded. “You sure?”

He turned on his side then, facing you with his head propped on his arm. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I’m curious.”

“You’re never curious.”

“You never leave the office to meet someone for lunch.” Especially not a woman, unless for whatever reason, Haley wants to have lunch and brings Jack, but the last time that happened was seven months ago, back when they were still trying to be friends after the divorce.

“I’m allowed to meet friends for lunch.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” you replied, probably too harshly. “I just meant...I don’t know what I meant.”

you gave me your word but that didn’t matter

Weeks passed by and you watched Hotch leave every now and again to have lunch with Beth. He never explicitly told you that it was Beth he was meeting every single time, but you knew. You always knew.

Because the look he’d give you as he’d close his office door, phone in hand no doubt to send a text to her, letting her know he was on his way. The look he’d give you said it all.

You knew the end was coming. Truthfully, you knew the end of the two of you was coming from the first day he met her for lunch.

You had never seen him as happy as he looked when he came back. And with every lunch date, it got worse.

Yet, for some reason, he still invited you over. And for some reason, you still agreed without hesitation.

February came and your heart broke with it.

You knocked on Hotch’s office door, bag in hand, the question of dinner on your hopeful lips.

“Can we talk?” He asked, speaking before you had a second to breathe.

You nodded, stepped inside to your demise, not even bothering to sit down. You knew it wouldn’t take long, and it didn’t.

Two sentences. That’s all it took.

“I don’t think what we’re doing is something I want long-term — for me or for you. I think it’s best if we go our separate ways.”

For me or for you. He was always thinking of your well-being. It always annoyed you.

“Okay,” you had said, cracking a small smile to hide the pain. “Fun while it lasted, right?”

“Right,” he agreed. “Well, have a good night. See you tomorrow.”

You couldn’t hold the tears in and they flowed freely before you were even out of the bullpen. You were thankful everyone had left. Imagine the explanation you would’ve had to conjure up. The web of lies he would’ve forced you to spin in five seconds.

Instead, you had to spin an entirely new web. All to explain why you weren’t sleeping, why you were drinking more, why you looked like you had cried all night the next day (you said it was allergies and insomnia; Morgan was the only skeptical one, but he let it go).

it took you two weeks to go off and date her

The real ending came when Valentine’s Day arrived. You were foolish to think he’d spend it with you, but you still did.

The jet landed back in Virginia after a long case, and you thought for sure Hotch would tap you on the way off of the jet, ask you to dinner, then back to his place, just like you did last year.

But he had made plans. With Beth.

You were delusional to think otherwise, but still, his smile cut right through you when he told Rossi he had plans.

guess you didn’t cheat but you’re still a traitor

Derek, Emily, and Penelope wanted to go out for drinks and you were the first to agree, ready to forget the past year of your life.

Thankfully, you didn’t spill any secrets while drunk. You did confess to going through a breakup, but not with Hotch. No one will ever know it was Hotch. The “he” in question will forever remain a mystery to them.

Meanwhile, you watched Hotch fall deeper and deeper in love. He decided to run a triathlon, and he trained every morning -- with her. He left for lunch almost every day to go eat -- with her. He never stayed late, he always had plans -- with her.

He hardly ever spoke to you anymore. And you never spoke to him.

It became an unspoken agreement for you to leave finished paperwork on his desk without a word (if he was in there) or better yet, to drop it off while he’s at lunch.

You sleep in the hotel room furthest from his every case.

The seats next to him on the jet are off-limits and you’ve even gone to make a shitty cup of shitty coffee before to avoid him (and everyone knows you hate the coffee on the jet).

You somehow managed to never meet or hear about Beth until the triathlon — and you were apparently the only one who hadn’t met her yet.

Jack hugged her immediately that day. He had already warmed up to her and it made you want to claw your heart out.

Beth is nice. Beth is an angel. Beth is older, prettier, everything you knew Hotch wanted and wasn’t getting from you.

She shook your hand with a smile, none the wiser to the fact that you’ve slept with Hotch more times than you can remember. That your heart belongs to him even though you don’t want it to. Even though you want it back.

now you bring her around just to shut me down show her off like she’s a new trophy

Once you met Beth, it seemed like she was everywhere. Visiting the office, bringing Hotch lunch, bringing Jack in to visit, having coffee with Hotch in the cafe you used to frequent, at Rossi’s for family dinner nights. Everywhere.

Worst of all, at JJ and Will’s wedding.

You weren’t the only one to show up without a date, yet you felt like it. Especially when Hotch arrived with Beth on his arm, glowing like always, with Jack holding onto his hand.

You avoided Hotch all night — Beth too, but mostly him — yet he somehow managed to find you alone in the kitchen.

The wine was your saving grace of the night, and he happened to walk in as you were pouring another.

“I can hear your liver screaming from here.”

A poor attempt at a joke, really. Maybe it was funny. But you didn’t laugh. “I’ll survive” was your dry reply before downing half the glass.

His face looked softer, but you know now it was the wine in your system.

“You look good,” he had said. “How are you doing?”

You stared at him. “Fine. Thanks.”

You don’t know why he kept trying to have a conversation with you. You felt insufferable and you see now that you were, but it’s all his fault.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You chuckled dryly. “Not with you.” You paused. “How’s Beth?” Paused again, this time to bring the wine glass to your lips. “How’s a real relationship working out for you?”

Hotch’s face fell. “What we had was real. You know that.”

“I know it was,” you replied. “But do you? Do you really?”

He didn’t answer. His silence was all you needed.

and i know if you were true there’s no damn way that you could fall in love with somebody that quickly

You left him standing there in the kitchen without another word. You had nothing left to say to him, and he clearly ran out of words for you.

Derek found you halfway to the dance floor.

“Woah, I don’t like that look,” he said, taking the wine from you. “What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you lied. “Let’s dance instead. Come on.”

You drug him away, meeting Penelope and Emily for the next song. You danced, you cried, you blamed the tears on the alcohol in your system. You slow danced with Emily, Derek, Rossi, narrowly avoided Hotch by swinging into Spencer’s fumbling arms.

No one knew. No one would ever know.

you betrayed me

[tothemeadow]

I haven't seen much people requesting for snake bby so obanai x demon reader pls?Reader is like a succubus type of demon and when sent on a mission to kill her he falls into her clutches and it ends with smut 👀

‘in my dreams’ / Iguro O. x Reader

PLEASE STOP SLEEPING ON THIS MAN

warnings: NSFW, Obanai is a boob man, dream fucking?

words: 2,793

(a/n): I might’ve gotten carried away a bit

-

He’s always heard that sharks can smell blood on the water.

He isn’t a stranger to blood himself, used to the sightly images of gore and the rancid odor. It’s simply another part of his hellish life, bearing witness to mutilated remains of bodies and hunting down their killer.

It’s all in a day’s work.

It’s strange, though, when there aren’t any bodies to be found. Rumors of disappearances plague the night, travel from lips to ears, slowly spreading throughout the small town.

Takahashi’s daughter disappeared last night.

The doctor’s oldest son? Haven’t you heard? He’s gone.

For such a large number of people to be suddenly up and vanishing, it’s no wonder concerns have risen. It’s why Obanai’s here in the first place, determined to sniff out the culprit and promptly execute them. He’s dealt with similar cases before – finding the missing persons, only to find their remains or couple of bones – but this time… Well, it’s weird, to say the least. Not one person in this town knows where anybody could be, no strange sightings or feelings, nothing.

And, if Obanai is going to be completely honest, it’s infuriating as hell.

He’s not a patient person in the slightest. Perhaps that’s his curse and the sole reason why this case isn’t going anywhere; still, with the lingering danger hanging over these poor people’s heads, he needs to end this quickly. And so, cooped up in a small room at the town’s inn, he pours over his scribbling of notes, wondering just what kind of force he’s dealing with.

A demon’s nature can vary, depending on what kind you encounter. Obanai’s had his fair share of strange interactions – whether it be demons with multiple arms, pygmies, the facial features of a fly - he's nearly seen at all. But to take victims without leaving a single trace? That's where things get complicated.

"Dammit," Obanai grumbles, dragging a hand over his face. Kaburamaru flicks his tongue in concern, sensing his owner's unease.

This isn't going anywhere. The amount of time or effort spent trying to figure out where everyone has vanished isn't amounting to anything. How could this be? Obanai isn't some low level slayer, for gods' sakes - he's a Pillar. It shouldn't be this hard to put two and two together, yet here he is, staring blankly at his collected information. The idea of sending his crow to summon for help crosses his mind, but he hastily throws away the thought. No, that's not how this is done. He isn't willing to give up so easily.

As the hours drag further into the night, Obanai grows restless, twitchy. His striped haori sits to the side, folded neatly along with the shirt and overcoat of his uniform. Kaburamaru is already fast asleep, coiled into a tight circle at the edge of the futon. The wooden hatches of the window hang open, the night breeze drifting into the room with the sound of a singular solemn cricket.

A long, ornate kiseru dangles between his spindly fingers; it’s a rare occasion whenever Obanai smokes, so much to the point that the ones closest to him don’t even know he possesses such a fine pipe. He takes a slow drag as his he stares up at the moonlit clouds, the chilled breeze whipping the choppy strands of his hair against his bared cheeks. He wonders, truly, just how the hell he’s supposed to get to the bottom of this case if he can’t find anything to work with.

Perhaps the gods heard his woes - or he’s finally lost his mind - for an intoxicatingly sweet scent fills his senses.

Jasmine.

As far as Obanai knows, he hasn’t seen any jasmine plants when he came into town. This had to mean something - it had to. Opting his kiseru for his blade instead, he easily slips out the window, feet hitting the ground without a sound. Taking off into the night, he races through the town’s streets, eyes darting back and forth for anything out of the usual.

He comes to an abrupt stop when the scent of jasmine grows even stronger. He’s sure now that whatever he’s been looking for is here. A slight shuffling catches his attention; whipping his head to the side, a wooden hatch to a window bangs against the side of a house, but there’s no one to be seen on the other side. 

“Found you,” Obanai breathes.

Rushing over to the house, he drops into a crouch as he creeps closer to the window. Jasmine floods his senses, the irresistible aroma gripping onto his consciousness and practically demanding for him to come closer. Swallowing thickly, he ignores the sudden wave of heat flushing over his body as he peeks into the darkened room. A family of five lays on the floor, their bodies moving gently with the deepened breathing of a heavy slumber. Even now, Obanai has to resist the urge to shut his eyes and succumb to the flowery scent.

Although the room is dark, he can make out a strange pillar of smoke; ah, so that’s where the origin of the smell is coming from. Is it some type of mist demon? Flower? He isn’t entirely sure, but he doesn’t have the time to care. He needs to get rid of it now.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he unsheathes his blade, not wanting to attract attention to him yet. It’s a wish in vain, though; as soon as his blade is hanging in the air, the pillar of smoke rushes towards him, slamming into him and sending him flying. Obanai grunts as his back hits the ground, the sharp edge of rocks biting into the skin.

“Don’t you know that it’s rude to sneak up on others?” a low, creamy voice drawls. Goosebumps break out across the surface of Obanai’s skin and a shiver races down his back. The smoke dissipates, then, revealing a feminine figure.

Obanai’s breath catches in his throat. This demon - you - are unlike any other he’s encountered. Immediately, his eyes latch onto the pair of horns protruding from your skull, pearly at the tip and then fading into ebony. You’re strikingly beautiful, facial features soft yet demanding. Embarrassment warms Obanai’s face as his eyes drift across the curves of your body; your breasts swell over the tight, strappy top while the entirety of your legs and hips frame the long loincloth-like garment between your legs. Both your arms and legs have the same pearly sheen towards the end, just like your horns.

By the gods, you’re ethereal, even if the claws on your fingers could easily tear Obanai’s throat out.

“So is breaking into other’s homes,” Obanai manages to croak. Bringing himself to a stand, he takes a defensive stance, his blade held out before him. He feels strangely heavy, almost like his body craves to stay flat on his back.

Much to his surprise, you pout at him, arms crossing beneath your chest and pushing your breasts further up. “But it gets so lonely at night, you know?” you say, that seductive lilt in your voice deepening. At that, you make a show of sweeping your eyes over Obanai’s bare torso, and a slight smile grows on your pretty lips.

Obanai clears his throat. He can’t let himself fall for your tricks, no matter how incredible you smell or alluring you look. If these are the methods you rely on, chances are you’re a weaker demon.

“What did you do with the missing persons?” he asks, eyes narrowing.

“Missing persons? Is that what they’re calling them?” you say, a giggle following your words.

Obanai growls at your nonchalant confession. If there’s one thing he can’t stand about demons, it’s their inability of basic human emotion, the inability of compassion. Yeah, he decides that your head is going to look even better once it’s separated from your body.

“You see, pretty boy,” you purr, pressing a hand to your throat and dragging it downwards, brushing over a luscious breast and tracing over your exposed tummy, “in return for making their dreams come true, I get to have a snack.”

“Enough,” Obanai grunts, switching to an offensive stance. “Maybe I’ll be gracious enough to meet you in hell someday.”

Before you even have a chance to react, Obanai springs into action, launching himself off the group in a great leap, lungs tightening as he releases a breath form.

It doesn’t hit.

It doesn’t fucking hit.

In fact, you’re nowhere in sight. Instead of the dusty, moonlit road, Obanai finds himself in an onsen; a great bamboo pavilion stands tall above the pool of water, blocking the golden rays of sunshine from hitting him. Thin trees are scattered about the area, riddled with stone lanterns and garden rocks covered in moss. With a chorus of birds singing overhead, it’s like he’s in an entire new world.

Muttering to himself, Obanai scans his surroundings, wracking his brain and trying to figure just what the hell happened. One moment, he’s about to slice your head clean off and put an end to your terror -  the next, he’s in broad daylight in some overt paradise.

“Your dreams are beautiful,” that wonderful, wonderful voice of yours speaks.

Whirling around, Obanai sends splashes of water flying. “What did you do to me?” he spits.

You flash him a sly smile. “Why, I merely put you to sleep, pretty boy. Can’t be much of a threat if you’re not wide awake, no?”

Obanai curses under his breath. Of course you’re a dream demon - no wonder why there hasn’t been any bodies turning up. If only he had acted faster, got here sooner, more lives could’ve been saved. With a huff, he slithers further away from you, sinking below the water until only his face can be seen. “So what now? You’re going to try to kill me in my sleep? That’s a low blow and you know it.”

Sucking air through your teeth, you shake your head. Now that the two of you are no longer shrouded by darkness, Obanai really gets a good look of how utterly stunning you are. Again, he curses himself out, calling himself a fool for thinking such things when he should be killing you instead.

“Your blade isn’t here, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you tell him, a look of mischief crossing your features. “Silly boy - this a time meant for the two of us, not for you to end my forsaken life. Allow me to help you... relax.”

As you step to the edge of the onsen, Obanai finally notices the feeling of water caressing his thighs, his bare buttocks. You just had to make him naked in his dream, huh? What are you trying to accomplish, anyway? His eyes widen incredulously as your hands find their place on your torso, slinking over the swell of your breasts and around your neck; with a simple tug, your top comes loose. You merely let the garment fall to the rocks below, a small ‘oops’ slipping from our mouth.

Heat immediately floods to Obanai’s face and his groin; his insides squeeze in on themselves and he swallows thickly, thankful for the hidden protection the water provides. The look on your face is simply irresistible. Hell, even your breasts are as pretty as he imagined-

Shit, he inwardly curses, I shouldn’t be thinking like that.

But oh, you’re just so tempting, your hands squeezing your breasts, fingers rolling your hardening nipples as you stare directly at his flushed face. “Pretty boy,” you purr, “what’s your name?”

“Obanai.”

It’s out before he even knows it. 

“Obanai...” 

He really likes the way it rolls off your tongue, the dark glint in your eyes as you say it. Perhaps you can tell by his reaction alone - or maybe you like saying it - but you repeat his name, once, twice, thrice, and fuck does it drive Obanai insane. And then you’re reaching down, unfastening your lower garment and dropping it unceremoniously to the ground. Obanai’s cock twitches at the sight of your glorious body, the soft curves and glowing skin.

“Naughty boy, my eyes are up here,” you say. Again, you squeeze those beautiful fucking tits, a soft groan spilling from your lips. Obanai nearly goes feral from the sound; without further thought, he wades over to where you are. Jasmine clings in his nostrils, clouds his mind in a delicious haze, and he loves it.

You’re all too willing to meet his touch, body slipping into the heated water as he wraps his arms around you possessively. His body kicks into autopilot, mind going blank as he presses his lips to your throat. He should rip your throat out with his teeth, but there’s something magical about the way you arch into his touch, breasts pushing lewdly against his chest.

“Fucking-”

“Yes.”

A breathy moan spills from your lips as Obanai kneads your pretty tits, long fingers gripping possessively, wantingly. It’s almost ridiculous how hard he already is, his cock sandwiched between your bodies. He jolts as your hands land on his face, thumbs brushing against the ragged scars lining either sides of his mouth. 

“Don’t,” he grits, but it goes ignored. The air is sucked from his lungs as you brush your lips over his scars, murmuring something about how pretty he is before stopping at his mouth. You kiss him fervently, clawed fingers scratching his shoulders as you tongue the inside of his mouth. You swallow the husky groan that spills from his mouth, hand dropping down from his shoulder and wrapping around his hardening cock. 

“Ah, shit,” Obanai murmurs into your mouth. 

“Tell me what you want, pretty boy,” you whisper, hand slowly jerking on his cock. His breathing picks up as you quicken your pace, the water rippling with the movements of your wrists. “Your wish is my command.”

“Gods, you’re such a fucking tease,” he pants, eyes practically glowing against the pink hue of his face. Ducking his head, he sucks a nipple into his mouth, the wet warmth enveloping your breast and eliciting a delicious moan from you. Obanai wastes no more time, opting to prop you in his lap and pressing your back against a smooth stone. “I shouldn’t... but fuck...”

“It doesn’t seem like you’re angry with me anymore,” you husk in that damned sexy voice. A moan bubbles from your throat as Obanai starts rocking against you, cock slipping against your folds. It’ll only take a little push for him to fill that pretty cunt of yours, to stuff you full of his cock and fuck you raw. It’s what he wants.

“Shut up,” he grunts, mouth latching onto your nipple, his hand beginning to play with the other. A low, drawn out curse gets muffled by your chest as he finally slips his cock into you; it shouldn’t be physically possible, but your velvety walls seemingly clench around him and suck him in, your arousal making the slide impossibly easy. He hiccups on a breath, his entire body twitching as he pants. 

“The thing about succubi,” you drawl, sharp nails tracing down his spine, over the muscles in his back, “is that we’re the demons of sex and dreams. Oh, pretty baby, how much I’ve lucked out. Everyone else seemed like an appetizer - and you...” You pause, suck air between your teeth. “You’re like the damn main course.”

A helpless little grunt graces your ear as you fuck yourself on Obanai’s cock. His hips match your movements, your sopping cunt eagerly sucking him back in and squeezing around him. You’re so damn wet that it’s infuriating; Obanai wants more, more of your touch, your voice, that sweet scent clogging his senses. He can’t bring himself to stop touching your breasts, whether if it’s his hands or mouth. They bounce with the erratic rhythm of your hips, way too beautiful and hypnotizing. 

A breathless whine breaks through your cute little pants whenever Obanai smacks a hand against the ample flesh of your ass. “Is that you meant when you said you make others’ wishes come true? Have them fuck that tight pussy of yours? Huh?”

“Obanai, don’t be mean,” you pout. 

“Says a fucking demon that eats people.”

You hiss as his cockhead hits against your g-spot. “I can eat you too, so don’t get cocky, pretty boy.”

Obanai clicks his tongue, his brows furrowing. “You better keep that promise,” he grunts, thumb grazing your bottom lip. “I won’t take no for an answer.” He growls as your walls clench around him. 

“If that’s your wish, Master,” you purr, a slight chuckle following your words, “then it is my command.”

[lokust]

Drunken Mischief

I swear I’m working on the follow up to the last story but this was in my brain and demanded to be written so enjoy.

—

——

“Mobius… Mobius, come on! Won’t you have a drink with me?”

Loki had been begging Mobius to have even just a few shots with him for what seemed like hours, and he was determined to get a yes.

Mobius had rolled his eyes at the God’s question, finally giving in, “Yes, Loki I will have a drink with you. One drink, alright? I know how you get”.

Loki furrowed his eyebrows and put his hands up in a defensive gesture, “How I ‘get’? I don’t ‘get’ any type of way, thank you very much. I can handle my alcohol”.

…..

Well, he could have handled his alcohol 4 tequila shots and 3 martinis ago, but Mobius had stayed true to his word and only had one drink himself.

Loki, on the other hand, was flushed red in the face and stumbling around as he attempted to make himself yet another martini.

He was all over the place, giggling up a storm and singing some song that Mobius was sure didn’t even exist until Loki started singing it.

Sure, it was wholesome to see the God so carefree and happy, and giggling, but Mobius couldn’t let him keep drinking.

“Hey- Hey, Loki, maybe you’ve had enough, yeah? A sober Loki is difficult enough, I can only imagine how difficult you must be when you’re off your ass”, he spoke, carefully pulling the bottle of Gin from the God’s hands.

Loki was too gone to really do much more other than reach for the bottle as it was taken from him, “Why…”, he whined out drunkenly, “Why have you taken it from me?”

Mobius huffed out a small laugh, “You’ve been cut off for the night. Pour yourself some water- wait, don’t. You’ll spill it. Let me pour you some water”.

Loki grumbled as he leaned against Mobius in his inebriated state, “I don’t want water, I want another martini”.

The analyst rolled his eyes, “And I want to be in Panama City with a personal water craft and a God who evidently cannot handle a couple martinis. You’re getting water”.

Loki groaned, “You never let me have any fun, Mobius. Lighten up~”, he slurred, tugging at the sleeve of Mobius’s jacket and pinching the agent’s cheek.

Mobius swatted Loki’s hand away from his face and picked up the pitcher of water that sat on the round table. He poured a decent amount into a small cup as Loki continued to pester him, “Drink that”, he said, putting the cup in front of his friend.

Said friend huffed, “I’m not drinking it”.

Mobius rolled his eyes and put his hand on his hip as he tapped his foot impatiently, “Drink the water, Loki”.

The taller of the two crossed his arms over his chest and turned his nose up, “No”, he said stubbornly, only to yelp when Mobius poked him in the ribs as a warning.

“Drink. It”.

Loki smiled a very drunk smile, “Make. Me”.

For a moment, Mobius was frustrated, and he was prepared to unleash every bit of his frustration and make Loki drink the water like the God himself had suggested, but suddenly, it hit him.

Loki was drunk, and happy, and very intentionally provoking Mobius with his stubborn act, and Mobius saw it in the way Loki braced himself when he told Mobius to “make him”.

Mobius’s face fell from one of agitation to a small smirk, “No”, he said, watching Loki’s very poor defense fall as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“No? What- Fine. Then I just don’t have to drink the water”, he crossed his arms again with another small huff as he looked away from Mobius, his expression slowly turning into a grumpy pout.

Mobius just shrugged, “Alright. Fine by me, big guy. I’ll be having a seat right over there. You’re welcome to join me”, he said, gesturing to the small brown sofa before smiling innocently at Loki and moving across the room to sit down.

Loki was baffled. Mobius usually got frustrated enough to pin him down and make him squeal like a child within a couple moments of his stubborn antics. Not that he wanted that. He just didn’t understand the sudden change. Yeah.

He stood for just a moment, soaking in his own befuddlement at what had just happened before he just went back to being drunk and stubborn, “I know what you’re doing”, he said matter-of-factly.

Mobius glanced over his shoulder at the tall God, “Mm, really? What’s that?”, he asked innocently.

Loki just grumbled, “You’re acting like you don’t care to get me to drink it”, he said, sounding incredibly similar to a child who didn’t get his way.

“Oh, is that what I’m doing?”, he asked, “Or are you acting like this to get a reaction out of me?”

Loki stomped his way over to Mobius very angrily, “I am not acting like anything”, he said, plopping down on the sofa beside his friend.

“Oh you’re not?”, he teased, prodding and poking at Loki’s sides and watching his eyes light up as he curled uselessly away from the small attack.

Loki shook his head through an outburst of giggles, drunkenly swatting at the hands that were tazering his sides, “Gehehet ohohohoff!”

Mobius chuckled and pulled Loki closer to him, “No”, he said, wrapping one arm around his friend’s hip to keep him in place, “Honestly, Loki, we need to have a lesson in asking for the things we want, but we’ll save that for another time. Right now, it’s about getting you sobered up”.

Loki’s eyes widened as he writhed in Mobius’s grip.

“Now”, the agent started, “You’ll either laugh yourself back to sobriety or you’ll call for mercy and drink the water”.

Loki’s breath hitched in his throat, but he had no time to protest as Mobius pushed him down against the sofa and tickled relentlessly at his belly and sides.

Mobius refused fo hold back, knowing it was what Loki was going for anyway.

“SHIHIHIHIHIT! IHIHIHIHI- NOHOHOHOHO! Nononono nohohohoho!”, he squirmed weakly in Mobius’s hold, feeling a hand slip underneath his shirt and crawl all the way up his side to scratch at his ribs.

He squealed and pushed at the hand that was keeping him down on his back while trying to wiggle away from the one skittering at his top ribs, “Nohohohot thehehehere! Mobius! Nohohohoho!”

Mobius hummed, “Not there? How about… here?”, he asked teasingly, pulling Loki’s shirt up and suddenly leaning down to blow a loud raspberry in the center of the God’s belly.

Loki squealed and arched his back as he tugged at Mobius’s blond hair, “WAHAHAHAIT! NOHOHOHOHO! GO BAHAHAHACK!”, he kicked and pleaded but he just couldn’t fight it as intoxicated as he was.

Mobius blew a couple more raspberries before letting up a little and using both hands to scratch and spider as quickly and as gently as he could manage at Loki’s sides, “Oh, how nice of you to try to get closer to me. Really makes this easier, you know?”

Loki shook his head frantically, laughing away as Mobius’s fingertips crawled up his sides to his top rib, teasing just above it before clawing all the way back down both sides to pinch at the lanky man’s hipbones.

Loki was beside himself and his nerves were on fire, but he knew he brought it on himself. He was almost glad he was so drunk, otherwise Mobius would’ve definitely recognized the bright blush on his cheeks.

He slapped and swatted weakly at his captor’s hands as he curled in on himself pitifully, feeling Mobius slip his hands back around to spider and scribble around the fleshy area of his belly.

His back arched and he kicked his feet a bit, but he didn’t know what to do with himself. “MOHOHOHOBIUS ITS NOHOHOT FAHAHAIR!”, he whined through his cackles as he rolled over on his stomach and tried to crawl away.

“Nope, get back here”, he said, pulling Loki back towards him by the trickster’s hips, “You’re not goin anywhere, my inebriated friend”.

Loki groaned as his sides and ribs were attacked while he lay face down on the sofa, “Plehehehease! I cahahan’t!”, he hiccuped and snorted through his incessant giggling, reaching behind himself to push at Mobius’s wrists.

“I yieheheld!! Ihihihi yield!”, he exclaimed as his giggles began to sound more exhausted.

Mobius stopped, rubbing his back soothingly, “You gonna drink the water now?”

Loki nodded with a small breathy hum as he couldn’t find it in himself to do anything more.

Mobius walked to the small table to retrieve the cup before he helped Loki sit up and drink it, which he did in nearly one gulp.

Loki set the cup aside and leaned against his companion, grumbling about how unfair that ordeal was.

Mobius just chuckled, “You love it”.

Loki scoffed, his face heating up once more, “I do not, yo-”,

Mobius put a finger to his lips and shushed him, “Shhh, you’ll hurt yourself stumbling over your lies. Just relax”.

Loki huffed as he stayed silent. In his mind, it was to spite Mobius.

“Maybe next time, we can work on learning how to ask when you want me to tickle you instead of provoking it by refusing to treat yourself after getting so drunk you can barely stand, yeah?”

Loki wasn’t even listening. He was drunk, and he was exhausted. He heard the “yeah?” at the end of Mobius’s sentence and agreed senselessly with a nod and a hum, promptly curling up to fall asleep against Mobius.

Mobius chuckled and shook his head, but he let Loki sleep regardless, knowing the trickster was comfortable right where he was as he rubbed the God’s back soothingly.

And if anything good came of this, it was that Mobius no longer had to imagine how difficult a drunk Loki could be.

[cinna-stars]

Worth Waiting For

Uhh, okay, this is my first ever fanfic! I might continue it based on the reception, but it was a few thoughts I had in my head that I wanted down on paper. 

18+! Some sexual themes and content throughout, however for those experienced smut readers, this is some mild sauce, not very much spice.

I have to credit @cyancherub for making me think about Kiri smelling like cinnamon, the thought hasn’t left my brain.

Kirishima x Fem!reader 

A cool breeze whispers through the slightly ajar window of your dorm room. The sun set a little while ago; studying always seems to eat up most of your free time, so this wasn’t exactly a surprise. You lean back in your desk chair, arms up, and stretch your muscles into a big yawn. The sudden contracting muscles have your stomach gurgling. It’s definitely time to take a break, so you close your textbook and stand up from your desk. I wonder if there’s any of those expensive sounding potato chips that Momo bought back from her trip abroad left over? The thought makes you salivate as you begin towards your door. You glance to the mirror in the corner and look at your own reflection: hair pulled into a loose, messy bun, torso swallowed up by an old band shirt Denki gave you (after a conversation initiated by Mineta on what you liked to wear to bed) and bare legs sticking out from the hem. Shouldn’t be a problem, as long as Iida isn’t feeling like a stick in the mud this evening. You open your door and begin creeping your way to the kitchen, hoping to keep noise levels to a minimum as to not disturb anyone who might be sleeping already.

Your ears perk up when you hear conversation coming from the communal area.

“On a scale from 1-10, with ten being the most boring, you have exceeded my expectations and we’ve hit an 11.”

“Shut up dude, it’s an absolute cinematic masterpiece. This is why you don’t have the remote- we’d be watching Care Bears or some shit.”

You approach the seating area to see Bakugou, Kirishima, Sero and Denki. The latter two arguing over what to watch. Bakugou looks like he’s about to blow a fuse, so Kirishima chimes in,

“Hahah, okay guys, why don’t we just watch a horror movie, like Scream or something? It’s an easy watch.”

“Sounds like a good idea as long as Kaminari doesn’t shit himself.” Sero tries to start again, but this is perfect timing for you to interject.

“Sero, I’m sorry, last time I checked, you’re the one who had to ‘leave suddenly’ when we watched Halloween.” A smirk appears on your face from ear to ear as all four boys turn their head your direction. You notice an empty spot next to Kiri and take the opportunity to sit, careful not to flash anyone.

“Hey Y/N don’t be startin’ on me. I have plenty of stories about you that we could share you know? What about the Jaegerbomb incident?” Sero matched your grin, and you feign shock by slapping your hand to your heart.

“You’re breaking my heart, Hanta. Are you the only ones up?”

“Yeah Iida sort of ‘encouraged’ everyone to go to bed early because of the test tomorrow, but” Denki motions in Bakugou’s direction “the angry Pomeranian barked and he gave up with us.” Bakugou snaps his head up from his phone to stare Denki down, but realizing he’s just proving his point, sighs and goes back to scrolling on his phone.

“You okay Baku-babe?” he grunts and flips you off, but you could see the corner of his lip turn up in a weak smile at the affectionate nickname. You knew he meant well, especially after the time you had spent together over the last summer with the guys; he just had a defensive temperament.

“You wanna join us, y/n?” Kiri propositions with a wide grin. His hair was still styled into sharp points from classes today, contrasting with his relaxed clothing choice of a t-shirt, shorts and crocs. He’d also made the addition of a white bandana around his forehead. As usual, he was looking incredible.

After the time spent together as a group over the break, it was great to get to know everyone better. As Sero’s oldest friend, it was always easier to stick by him, which had ended up in your favour by meeting these clowns. You’d slowly got closer to the other three boys too, but there was something about Kirishima you couldn’t shake.

The way you felt when you were left together alone in the same room at a party, or when the other guys ended up flaking so you spent the night together at his place, there was always a feeling of excitement, in more ways than one.

You’ve never been very good at flirting and you just seem to come across as an anxious mess, but Kiri was pretty much just as bad. Meaning neither of you ever made a move. Just awkward giggles and eye contact that lasted just a little bit too long for friends.

“I actually came to steal some of Momo’s fancy chips but yeah, let me get a snack and I’ll be ready. You guys want anything?” You get up off the couch and start your way to the kitchen.

“BEER. BEER. BEER.” Denki chants, making you giggle.

“Oh I’ll come and help you carry them!” Kiri jumps up to follow behind you. You can hear Sero make a ‘wha-PISH’ whipping sound which makes Denki burst out with laughter. In their defense, it was painfully obvious you were both pining for each other.

The kitchen isn’t far but it is out of earshot of the sitting area. You open the cupboard in the corner to find Momo’s chip bag, left sat there completely empty. “Oh come ON” you sigh, picking up the bag and placing it in the trash.

“No chips left? Don’t worry I got you covered.” Kiri stretches to the gap between the top of the cupboard and the ceiling, feeling about with his hand. Your eyes fixate on the skin that is now showing just above the waistband of his shorts. You slowly move your view up the side of his torso, his shirt draping over his body in all the right places, and then to his face, one eye closed and tongue sticking out in concentration. He totally caught you checking him out and now you’re both stood there blushing like idiots. He finally located the bag he was looking for and brings his hands back down, showing off the slightly dusty bag of unopened chips.

“These are your favourites, right?” You stand in bewilderment looking at the bag and nod. “There are many bonuses to being one of the tallest in this dorm” he grins. He even remembered your favourite chips? You can’t help but smile back.

“Thank you so much. Oh let me get the beers!” you walk over to the fridge and open it up, bending over to search for the well hidden cans. You know your ass is on show, and you’re doing everything you can to make it the best view. Arching your back slightly, barely moving your hips from side to side, putting on a full show without being too obvious. “Ah I found them!” You gather them into your arms, the cold metal against your skin sending shivers up your spine and making your nipples protrude from the thin material of your shirt. You stand back up and close the fridge, turning around to a very red in the face Kirishima. You send a sweet smile his way.

“Do you mind taking a couple they’re coldddd” you whine. He composes himself and grabs the first can he can see looking ready to fall. He then proceeds to take another, slowly exposing more of your chest and your hardened nipples. You notice his eyes dart to them and then back on the beers. Are you two really going to carry on like this? Acting like the sexual tension couldn’t be cut with a knife? His wandering eyes now have you blushing and you’re quick to fill the hanging silence. “Should we really be drinking when we have a test tomorrow? I’m no NARC but you know what Denki can get like. He’ll wake up the whole house.”

“It’ll be fine. The only ones that know where the rest of the stash is are you and me. As long as you can keep a secret, we’re Gucci” he winks.

“Did you… really just use the term ‘Gucci’? like completely unironically?” You laugh, nudging his side.

“Shut upppp y/n. Come on let’s get back to them before Bakugo kills Dumb and Dumber.”

 “Hoes and bros we come bearing beverages!” You walk in and pass out the three beers you held to the boys, Kiri slowly following with the chips and the last two drinks.

“Wait, who are the hoes?..... oh.” Kaminari has a moment of self-realization and stares at the beer in his hand.

“Denki don’t listen to her, she is the last one to be calling anyone a hoe” Sero hits you with another of what will be many insults of the night.

“Uhhhh says the guys who has a body count tally on his wall. If you ever get with Mina you’re going to need to take a trip to Home Depot to paint over those you know?” You counter.

“Can we watch the damn film already?! Could’ve watched half the fucking thing by now.” Bakugou finally lets off some of the pent up steam. Both you and Denki lift your arms up to your forehead in a salute. “Yes sir!”

Grabbing a blanket, you and Kiri get back into your original seats next to each other on the sofa furthest away from the TV. Sero is on the chair to Kiri’s right, sprawled over it in the most boyish way possible, legs stretched wide and arms hanging over the back. Denki and Bakugo share the sofa to your left, Bakugou reserved to the spot at the very end, finally turning his phone off, while Denki almost mimics Sero’s positioning, but one hand is wrapped around his beer chugging it a bit too fast. Sero presses play as you sit back into the sofa. Kiri’s arm is already draped over the back of the headrest, and it’s only a matter of time until his arm drapes around your shoulder and you lean into him.

You’re about ten minutes into the movie when he starts to move his fingers in little circles on your upper arm. If anyone saw you right now, they’d assume you two were together. The months you’ve both spent flirting and teasing, the light touches and the lingering cuddles. This is becoming unbearable for you, its overwhelming. How haven’t you kissed yet? You weren’t really a ‘hoe’ as Sero said, but you certainly weren’t inexperienced and have never had this trouble before, so what was stopping you now? If things continued like this, you were going to explode.

You look up at Kiri, admiring the contours of his face against the light of the TV. The way his eyebrows slightly furrow, and the way he’s chewing his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration. You inhale the mild aroma of cinnamon, which is a scent that follows him around everywhere. You’re certain he’s aware you are staring, by the light blush reforming on his cheeks, but he allows you to for just a little longer. Right up until Denki yelps aloud from a minor jump scare in the film, causing you to jolt yourself and grab onto Kiri’s shirt.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared?” he asks, voice low and husky. “Don’t worry, I got you.” He lifts his free arm and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I-I wasn’t scared. Denki made me jump” you pout.

“Aww, even worse haha” he chuckles, the vibrations flow through your body, straight to your core, making you instantly wet. If he ever really knew the affect he had, you might just die from embarrassment. You release his shirt and return your head to his shoulder; however, his hand has maneuvered itself away from your upper arm and is now placed on your hip. The large amount of warmth is slowly followed by a very light squeeze of reassurance, and you’ve never been more aware that you aren’t wearing any shorts.

His breathing has now quickened, and his hand feels like it might even be shaking a little bit. He was so nervous, which makes him even more endearing. A wave of adrenaline rushed through you as you lift your hand to rest atop of his, to give him the assurance that it is absolutely okay to have his hand there.

About three quarters of the way into the film, all drinks have been consumed, chips have been eaten, Sero pauses and gets up for a pee break. “Couldn’t your bladder have waited? There isn’t that much longer left Se-bro” Kiri teases

“Ei, I don’t think I know anyone who could wait as long as you have” he leans down and darts his eyes between the two of you. You glare with intent to BURN. You thought too long for a comeback and unfortunately, he’s already happily waltzing off to the bathroom.

Kiri turns to you with a smile and lowers his voice. “Did nobody tell tape face that anything worth having is worth waiting for?” and you swear in that moment an entire flutter of butterflies were trying to escape you. That’s the most direct he’s ever been and it’s not something easy to ignore.

“I know you both have hidden the beer and I take personal offense.” Denki bellows. “I bet it’s on top of the cupboard where Kiri keeps all the good stuff” and he gets up and skips off to the kitchen, fully convinced he’s going to find what he’s looking for.

“I’m going to bed. Gotta be up early and you extras are pissing me off.” Bakugou gets up and stretches. “Love you, Bakubro! Mwah!” both you and Kiri heckle him with air kisses and you are met with yet another middle finger as he strolls off to his dorm room, that small smirk still present.

There’s that feeling coming back again. The way you feel whenever you’re alone with Kirishima. But this is the most compromised you’ve been: you’re basically half naked, he’s got his hand on your hip and he just dropped an absolute bomb of a line thanks to Sero. You can’t help yourself and before you truly think it through,

“Ei, I think I’m done waiting.” You lift your head off his shoulder, faces only a few inches apart. You can feel both your heart rates quicken in sync and your bodies getting hotter. He raises his hand and takes your chin in his hand, urging your lips forward onto his. The anticipated contact sends electricity through your body and the kiss deepens quickly, his tongue licks your lower lip asking for entrance and you accept immediately, releasing a soft moan from the motion.

You twist your body round so that you’re straddling his thigh, his wandering hand had slipped under the fabric of your shirt in the same place, playing with the fabric of your underwear. Your hands find their way to the back of his head, pushing him further into your mouth. You both are getting sloppy as lust takes over and you find your hips involuntarily grinding on his thigh. He breaks away from the kiss, pulling at your lower lip and working his way down your jaw to your neck, nipping and sucking lightly, causing louder moans to escape you.

“So- fucking long- I’ve waited- to touch you like this” he groans out between kisses and bites, sure to leave a mark. “Sound so pretty”

“Ah- me too, I- fuck” the stimulation from his voice and touch is almost overwhelming, but clarity sets in quicker than you’d like it too. “Sero will- ah- be back any second” and you release your grip on his hair. He’s really trying to pout at you, but he can’t help let his goofy smile beam through. You stare at each other for a few seconds, both absolutely beaming with happiness. He lets out an almighty sigh,

“Uggggh, you’re right. Hey, what are you doing after this?” he asks as you settle back down next to him, making you chuckle.

“Well I was planning on going back to my dorm and sleeping. Unless you have a better offer?” you beam.

“Well…” his grin gets wider, “you know there’s a sequel to Scream, yknow? Think you might wanna… what’s it called..”

“Scream 2.”

“I can make you scream, too. Sure”  and you erupt into laughter together, from his disgustingly awful pun.

Sero approaches from the corridor “Well you two sure can clear a room.”

“I’d blame it on Kiri’s terrible puns, but Bakubabe went to bed and Electabuzz is currently trying to find the rest of the beer but- oh there you are” Denki walks in, with a pout on his face, and flops back on the couch in disappointment.

“Denks, how about we throw a little party tomorrow after the test. We’ll let you in on where the secret stash is, too.” You offer, his expression immediately switching to that of delight.

Even though there was only a half hour left of the movie, it felt like hours until the end credits started rolling. Denki had managed to fall asleep and was snoring at full velocity, and the only person left paying full attention was Sero, as you couldn’t stop your brain from wandering from anticipation.

He shut the TV off and you tasked yourself with waking up Denki while Kiri cleaned up the empty beer bottles.

“Kami, come on sweetie, you need to go to bed.” You nudge him slightly causing him to stir. Sero walks over, and gives him a hard slap on the ass

‘WAKE UP ASSHOLE! Iida will kill you if you sleep on the couch”

“…I- sleep- your mom-..” he sits up and rubs his eyes

“Don’t be so rough Sero, he’s so sleepy look at hiiiimm” You say, admiring how cute he looked in such tired state. Kaminari finally gets up and all four of you head to the lift… shit.

You are Denki are on the 3rd floor, Kiri is on the 4th and Sero is on the 5th… how are you going to get to Kiri’s room without being suspicious?

A/N: Thank you if you read this in full! Please let me know what you think and if you’d be wanting to read the next part (which would include a lot more spice!)