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absurdthirst · 19 days ago

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Riduur in Training {Mando x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.3k

Warnings: Sexual training/grooming, mentions of creeds and honor, cults, playing fast and loose with Mandalorian traditions, removing helmets, forced weddings, nudity, masturbation, oral sex (male and female receiving), loss of virginity, fingering, vaginal sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, humiliation, dishonor, pregnancy

Comments: You arrive with the Armorer to take your place as Din Djarin's riduur, one that he had no warning of. Trained to be the spouse of the next leader of the covert - you will be dar'manda if he rejects you. And Din is horrified to learn that you have been trained for his pleasure.

A/N: We leaned into the cult-like mindset for this fic. Beware.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“It is your duty to wed Din Djarin.” You have heard these words for weeks now, nerves settling in your belly even though nothing of your anxiety is reflected in the dark visor of the beskar helmet covering your face. You swallow as the ship bringing you to Nevarro starts its descent into the atmosphere and you hear the comm tower direct the Armorer to a docking bay near the town, but she ignores that and turns to the north of the city. Making you chew your lip as the lava flats pass underneath and you see the rockiness of the desert starts to appear. This will be your home, where you will make your family. With Din Djarin, as his riduur, only he doesn’t know it yet.

Another day in Nevarro and Din is settling down to clean his weapons when there’s a knock at his door. Grogu is at school and he is immediately on edge. Working fast to put his blaster together, he stands up and slowly makes his way to the door, pressing the button to open it just as he aims the weapon. “Din Djarin.” The Armorer greets him and he lowers his blaster but keeps it in his hand. His eyes flick beneath the visor between the Armorer and the mysterious Mandalorian beside her. “Can I help you?” He asks, a little perturbed at being disturbed in his solitude.

The mandalorian in front of you does not seem to be expecting you. Your stomach bottoms out and the Armorer speaks again. “We have some business with you.” She doesn’t wait for an invitation, stepping inside the house and you reluctantly follow. You’ve heard of him, seen him from afar but his beskar is impressive upclose. Taller and broader than you imagined, you feel your cunt clench as you imagine this warrior bedding you. He steps back and you look around the little house that he has been living in since the retaking of Mandalore. It’s suitable, but you can tell that he’s not frivolous or used to creature comforts. You can change that for him.

Din is tense, his shoulders back and his legs spread evenly in case this is some kind of trap. He trusts the Armorer to an extent but his upbringing means he doesn’t trust anyone, not even himself. “The business?” He asks, not offering a refreshment like his fellow Nevarrians would. He is a Mandalorian through and through.

“It is time that you take a riduur.” The Armorer tells Din with a hint of irony in her clear voice. You can tell that he’s shocked by the way he rears back and you know that he had no clue what the covert and Mandalore had planned for him. “I have brought you the woman you will enter a riduurok with, create warriors. She is fertile.”

Din can’t help it. He lets out a shocked chuckle and he shakes his helmet, “I do not want a riduur. I have said this many times.”

Your helmet tilts towards the Armorer who shakes her head, “you have avoided the responsibility long enough. As a Mandalorian, it is your duty, your creed, to protect the covert and that includes breeding to add to our numbers. This one is made for you. She will do as you say. You simply have to breed her after your riduurok.”

Din’s fingers flex against the side of his blaster, “I am not ready.”

Still, you don’t speak, even though your head turns towards the Armorer when you are so obviously being rejected by the man you have been raised to marry. “You are ready.” She insists, motioning towards the other rooms where the child that Din has taken under his wing is obviously napping. “Your young charge would do well with having brothers and sisters to help him.”

Din sees you step forward and he shakes his head, “she’s not staying. I do not want a riduur. You need to take her back to the covert.” He demands and shakes his head. “I am not suitable for a riduur. I never will be.”

“If you do not take her as your riduur, you will be dar’manda once more.” She insists. “Part of your creed was to the covert and the covert requires this of you. Mandalore requires this.” The Armorer tells him and you feel ashamed that you are obviously lacking whatever quality that Din requires in a riduur.

“I will be a good riduur.” You tell him. “Trained vigorously for one day giving life to the next generation of Mandalorians.”

Din recoils, not wanting a bride who hand picked for him, reared for him. It is a practice he knew of back when the Mandalorian fled Mandalore and had to recoup their numbers. He doesn’t want to be dar’manda again. He had to find the waters to redeem himself before and it’s not a journey he wishes to repeat. He swallows harshly and takes a moment, “fine. Join us now.” He demands, wanting to get this over with.

The Armorer nods in approval but you almost wish to protest. He does not seem happy. However, you do not say a word, being trained that this is your fulfillment of the Creed. Your duty to Mandalore is to marry Din and have his ad. Your gloved hand reaches out to join with his, only to be ignored by the bounty hunter. You drop your hand, happy that you have not removed your helmet yet due to your embarrassment. “Repeat your vows.” The Armorer insists, turning her head towards you to start.

Taking a deep breath, you begin to speak. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” You recite softly, hoping that Din just needs some time to adjust to the idea of a riduur.

Din inhales deeply as you recite your vows and he isn’t sure what he could say to prevent this. All he can do is take you as his riduur, offer you shelter and make sure you’re well kept. He won’t touch you to consummate the riduurok. He sighs and looks at you. Wondering what you look like beneath the helmet. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” He repeats, back stiff.

Once the vows are repeated, you reach for the locks on your helmet. The Armorer had warned you that Din was also a part of her sect, he did not remove his helmet as you might, in front of others. You only hope that he might remove it once she leaves and you are alone. Slowly slipping the Beskar off your head, you look up into the visor of your now riduur. “Hello, Din.” You greet him softly with your name, since that hadn’t even been exchanged.

His eyes widen under the helmet. You’re gorgeous. He is taken back by your beautiful face and it is a few moments until he recovers. “Hello.” He says your name but doesn’t take off his helmet. “Is that all?” He turns to look at the armorer.

“I will leave you to become better acquainted.” The armorer seems pleased as she clasps her hands together. “She has never had a man, so take care her first time.”

You bite your lip, embarrassed that she would be so casual with that information, although he is now your riduur. “Thank you for bringing me here, safe journey back to Mandalore.”

The Armorer nods. “This is the way.” You repeat the phrase and soon she has disappeared out of the house to leave you alone with Din.

Din sighs as he makes his way back to the table, disassembling his blaster so he can continue with the work he was doing before he was interrupted. “If you have things…you can take the spare room.” He jerks his helmet towards the door across the cabin, opposite of his room and Grogu’s. He doesn’t plan to consummate the riduurok. He plans to leave you untouched. He did as the Armorer asked and he has fulfilled the requirement of his creed.

Tilting your head, you stare at the Mandalorian that both the Armorer and Bo-Katan have talked about with pride. He is uninterested in you. “Do you wish that I had a cock instead of a cunt?” You ask bluntly, wondering if he preferred male companionship. “I know that we must have sex to breed and if you prefer, you can take me from behind.” You offer. “I can use my mouth to arouse you?”

Din snorts, he can’t help it. “No. I don’t wish you had a cock. I don’t wish - I do not wish to take you without us - I don’t know. We don’t know each other and now you’re my riduur. I am not consummating this riduurok. You are welcome to live here but I will not touch you.” He says with finality.

You stare at him in shock. “But we have to.” You insist. “Part of our vows are to create warriors.” You are panicking slightly since this is what you’ve been trained to do. Be a Mandalorian spouse and to bear his children. “We cannot have warriors if you don’t fuck me.”

“I do not desire warriors. I have a foundling. I don’t want ads.” He tells you and you appear gobsmacked. “I’m sorry, riduur. I did not ask for this. I was perfectly happy on my own in my cabin here. The Armorer wishes for more than I can give.” He says, grabbing the cloths to start cleaning his blaster.

It’s clear when he doesn’t speak again and refuses to look your way that he is ignoring you. Speechless, you turn and walk towards the door that he had motioned to. The spare room where you were supposed to sleep. Your pack with all your belongings was still on your shoulder and you felt like giving him some time might be best.

Din diligently cleans his weapons, taking more time than necessary to do so. He sighs when he hears the door open and he looks up after putting his last blaster together to find you standing before him. “Why- dank ferrik what are you- why are you naked?” He demands to know, turning his helmet to avoid looking at you to give you some dignity.

You are used to your own nudity, spending hours naked in the covert while other Mandalorians barely undress for their showers, or don’t undress at all if they use a sonic shower. “So you can breed me.” You answer, moving closer to him. “I wish for you to breed your warrior into my belly. I can provide great satisfaction and pleasure to you.”

Din recoils, confused by your desire for him to get you pregnant, for you to pleasure him. “Riduur. Why…you act like you’ve been raised for this?” He offhandedly comments. “I don’t want to fuck you, to breed you. Please. Get dressed.” He pleads, unable to look at you.

“This is my purpose.” You are so confused and distressed by his attitude. Has he not been taught that for breeders to keep to the Creed, they must exhaust all efforts to bear warriors? “I have no wish to be dar’manda.” You shake your head. “I will learn however you wish to receive pleasure and make sure that you are satisfied every time.”

Din can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I don’t - that isn’t what you are here for. Your creed…it’s not to be my baby machine, riduur. I will not breed you. You will not pleasure me. I will not touch you. Please get dressed.” He says coldly, deciding that acting like he’s indifferent to you would make you do what he says.

You start shaking, terrified of breaking your creed and you can’t help the tears that start falling. “I’ve - I’m going to be- I can’t- I’ve failed.” You sob, turning around and rushing back into the room that you had undressed in. The Armorer had assured you that Din would breed you and now you are being rejected.

Din sighs, closing his eyes beneath the helmet, and he knows he has hurt you but he cannot breed. His life has only just settled and he has the kid. He doesn’t need another one, or several, distracting him from doing what is needed to keep Grogu safe and healthy. That’s his creed. He hears you sobbing and decides to give you some space, heading out to pick the kid up.

It takes you some time to stop crying, but you know that you cannot force a warrior like Din Djarin to bend to your will just because of your creed. He must want this as much as you do, so you set about to make sure that he understands how you will improve his life. Your armor laid aside, you do not need to wear it inside your home with your riduur and you put on some of the outfits you had worn while you were in training for comfort. Leaving your room and making your way to the small galley style kitchen to fix him and his foundling a proper meal to enjoy when they return.

When Din returns home with Grogu, the kid coos in surprise at the smell, always hungry, and Din can’t deny that his own stomach rumbles as the scent wafts through his filter. He opens the door and finds you in the small kitchen, wearing tight pants that cling to your ass and he muffles his groan. Din has always been an ass man when he picks his holos and Maker, yours is gorgeous. He can’t let you know that. “This, uh, this is Grogu. My foundling.” He introduces you to Grogu who tilts his head and offers you a smile.

“Hello, Grogu.” You tell the child your name and smile in delight when he waves his arms for you to pick him up. “I hope you are hungry.” Din scoffs. “The kid is always hungry.”

Din watches as you pick up the child and his back straightens a little defensively as you hold the kid he’s fought so hard and sacrificed so much to protect. You notice but don’t say anything as Din watches you. Grogu lifts his hand to your cheek, cooing, and Din watches the awestruck look on your face and he can’t help but think about how pretty you look.

The kid has some powers, the Armorer had warned you about it. The kid was a Jedi. But you didn’t realize he could show you things. You see Din, saving him, protecting him.

Din wonders what Grogu is showing you but your awed face makes his stomach twist and he sighs, “come on kid. Let’s sit you down for dinner.” He says and takes the child from you to put him in the high chair so he can have his food. He won’t eat in front of you. Even if you are his riduur.

“You are allowed to take off your helmet in front of me to eat.” You remind him softly, fixing Grogu a plate and then one for Din. “But I can go into the bedroom if you wish to have some privacy.” He might eat in front of the child but you want to show him that you can bend to some of his ways like a good riduur should. Perhaps it will help him become more comfortable about the situation.

Din shakes his head, “I will eat after. Sit. Enjoy the meal you cooked.” He orders and you set the plate down in front of Grogu. He doesn’t want you to miss out on enjoying the meal you spent time cooking.

You feel bad, knowing the food is better when it’s hot, but you listen to him. Using the plate you had fixed for him and sitting down at the small table. “I will be quick.” You promise.

Din doesn’t argue, he sits down and watches you and Grogu eat. It’s unusual, having another Mandalorian around him, but you don’t seem to have the edge that most Mandos have. You are softer, less hardened by war and survival. “You have known the Armorer for a while?” He asks, wondering how long this has been planned.

Nodding, you look up at his visor and then back down to your plate. “I was a foundling, like you.” You explain. “But I was raised by a sect that removed their helmets. When I was of age, I was sent to your Armorer for training.”

Din frowns under his helmet, watching you eat. It's strange to see someone eating in front of him that isn't the kid. He never sits down to eat with others. "Training? For - for battle?" He asks, glad you can't see the confusion on his face.

“No.” You shake your head. “I was training to be a proper riduur to a leader.” You tell him quietly. “To be able to pleasure you and stand by your side as you guide our people into the light.”

Din is half glad you can’t see the horrified look on his face beneath the helmet. “You mean you…you’ve been trained to be mine?” He asks, “or for - for a leader in general. I’m not - I gave up being Mandalor. I don’t understand why you’re mine. If you’re mine.”

“Yours.” You clarify. “The Armorer had chosen me for you when you were still bounty hunting for the covert here on Nevarro. Actually….” You wipe your mouth and set down the napkin. “I was supposed to be joined with you three years ago. Before the covert fell.”

To say he’s shocked is an understatement. Din inhales sharply at the news and he doesn’t know how to react, grateful once more that you can’t see his face. You’re meant for him. You’ve been trained to be his. “Why me? Why- why not give you to another Mando?” He asks, confused now he’s no longer the Mandalor.

“I don’t know.” You shrug slightly. “The armorer made her decision and that was enough for me.” You know that the armorer would not give you to someone who wasn’t worthy. You were trained to be a good riduur, you cannot be a good riduur to a bad one. “Do you wish that I had been given to another Mandalorian?” You ask, looking up at him under your lashes. His broad frame nearly overwhelms you as you sit while he stands and you wish you could show him some of the pleasure you can provide.

He doesn’t know how to react. Any way he reacts will hurt you or him and he doesn’t want to do that to you. You deserve more than him placating you. He sighs and shakes his helmet, “I never asked for a riduur. I never asked for you.” He confesses, “I don’t know how to feel. We are bound now so I will do my best by you. You will stay here. Fed and clothed and you’ll have whatever you want but I cannot give you me. I’m- I can’t do that when you are only performing a duty.”

You frown, unhappy with his answer. You gesture to the child who is smearing his food over his face. “You do your duty towards your foundling, do you not?” You ask softly, standing up. “You did not love him when you first found him, yet you would seemingly break your creed to save him.” Din stiffens and you quickly shake your head. “He did not show me your face. He keeps that for himself.” You assure him, knowing that it would upset him to know you know what he looks like, even if you are his riduur. “Your fondness for the child grew.” You collect your plate and sigh. “I hope that can be the same for us.”

Din decides to not continue talking with you. He sighs and watches you as you clean the dishes. Grogu coos and tilts his head at him and he raises his eyebrows at the kid despite him not knowing his facial expression. “Don’t.” He murmurs before he looks over at you. “I have a duty to you but that duty does not include taking sexual pleasure from you without cause.”

“Cause?” You snort and set the plate of Din’s food on the table after you finish cleaning up. “I didn’t think there needed to be a cause beyond wanting to give and receive pleasure.” You hum, moving over to the child and picking up the foundling. “Eat your meal, Din Djarin. I will make sure that Grogu is cleaned up.”

He doesn’t say anything else as you leave the room and he is tense when Grogu looks back at him but he doesn’t comment, wanting you to feel like he trusts in your riduurok even though he hasn’t trusted anyone for a long time until he met the kid. He listens for several moments as you take Grogu into his room until he decides to unlatch his helmet and he sets it down on the table. He scratches his cheek and picks up the fork, digging into the meal you made. He groans softly at the taste. Maker, you’re a good cook.

Cleaning up the kid, it’s cute how easily he settles into your arms. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I was tasked with raising warriors.” You murmur to yourself and to the heavy eyed little one. “But I hope that I help, rather than be a burden. Your dad doesn’t want me here.”

Din finishes his meal and washes up his plate, setting it on the side to dry. He secures his helmet just as you knock on the hallway to come back into the kitchen. “I’m covered.” He declares and you walk in. “The kid asleep?” He asks and you nod, sitting down on the chair opposite him. “The meal was good. Thank you for cooking. I don’t remember the last time I had a meal cooked like that.” He confesses, “maybe my mother.” He winces at the unlocked memory.

“I’m glad you liked it.” You tilt your head, watching his body language and realize he must not like to talk about his past. “If you don’t mind, I will take over cooking.”

Din chuckles, “I won’t argue that, cyar’ika.” He promises and clears his throat as he watches you. You are beautiful. In and out of beskar. He wouldn’t tell you that though. You’re here because of the Armorer and he needs to remember that.

“Well….I have a feeling you won’t be comfortable removing your armor if I am awake, and you probably need some time out of it.” You are guessing he’s like a lot of the Mandalorians from the Nevarro covert. “Let your skin breath.” With that, you stand and give him a small smile. “Good night, riduur.”

“Good night.” He murmurs, watching you go and when the door to your room closes, he sighs and rubs his helmet. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s bound to you now but to know that you’ve been bred for him makes him anxious and uncomfortable. He’s never been “in love” or anything close to it. Never allowed himself to get close to anyone. Emotionally or physically. He has seen holovids of sex but he is painfully inexperienced in that department. He has paid for oral, has had a few women he’s fingered behind a cantina, but he’s never experienced penetration.

In your room, you strip down naked, comfortable with your form and lay down. The fullness of Din’s shoulders and his trim waist has you dripping and it should be a sin for his voice to be so sexy through the vocoder of his helmet. Raspy and shooting straight through you. Your fingers slide down your stomach and you moan quietly, imagining that they are his fingers, even with the gloves on. They slide down, circling your mound before delving into your slit and whimpering quietly when you rub your clit.

Din swallows harshly, walking into his room to strip out of his beskar, and he is annoyed with himself that he’s half hard at the thought of you in the other room. You’re beautiful and he hasn’t been around a woman this much since Omera and he isn’t sure if what he felt was attraction to her or protective. He sits down on the edge of his bed, torn until he grips his now hard cock in his hand.

“Oh Maker.” You moan softly, slowly rubbing your bundle of nerves and letting your legs spread apart as you massage your breast. “Fuck.” You hiss, feeling your nipple harden and you slide your fingers down to dip into your slick cunt. Imagining what Din would look like under his armor.

Din grunts as he fists his cock, now hard and aching. It’s been so long since he touched himself, too preoccupied with the events that happened before he settled on Nevarro. He imagines your lips wrapping around his cock. It’s so wrong but you’re beautiful and meant for him. It’s hard to stay away. He will but for tonight, he will indulge in the thought of having you.

With your hand between your thighs, you imagine all the ways you would pleasure your riduur. All the ways you could learn to share pleasure. You’ve never taken a man before but you are well acquainted with a cock, wondering how impressive he is beneath the flight suit he wears. “Din.” You moan softly, enjoying the way his name rolls off your lips.

His hand pauses and he thinks he heard his name. He shakes his head, knowing he's imagining things, and he continues pumping his cock. He imagines pushing into you, seeing your face as you take his cock. He groans as he imagines filling you with his cum, watching it drip out of you.

Your fingers dip inside your cunt again, making you moan louder and brace your feet on the bed as you push them deeper. Wishing that you were sealing your vows with your riduur instead of fingering yourself. Even being in the training room was preferable. “Fuuuuck.” You hiss in frustration, not feeling as good as you know you could.

Din grunts as he fists his cock, getting closer and closer. He hisses as he squeezes his cock and he can't hold back anymore. He cums, spurting onto his chest and hand, groaning your name softly as he imagines taking you as his riduur but he can't do that. He closes his eyes as he rides his orgasm until the guilt hits him. You're innocent and pure. He isn't. He doesn't deserve you.

Sighing when you finally find that spot that feels so good, you rub your clit. Pinching your nipple and moaning as you imagine it’s Din. He’s a warrior, one that can also be tender and you imagine him taking you apart with his cock and his fingers, his helmet on in your imagination. “Din, Din.” You moan softly, getting closer to that peak and your thighs start to shake.

Din soon settles into bed after cleaning himself up and he swears he heard his name again. Sighing, he closes his eyes and allows himself to sleep without his helmet, the door is locked and he needs to process the day. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do but he’s bound to you now so he needs to care for you but he won’t touch you. He can’t. Not when you are doing it out of duty, of obligation.

Your peak is satisfying, but you know would be so much better if it were with Din. You had been trained to want sex, to crave it and yet now that you could have a man, he was rejecting you. Getting under the covers, you wonder if it is just a matter of him getting to know you before he gives in and touches you. You hope so.

The next morning, Din is dressed and feeding the kid by the time you wake up. "Good morning." He greets you softly and the kid coos at you before he digs back into his porridge. "I could've done that. You should've woken me up." You huff and Din shakes his head, "you are not here to serve us."

Your shoulders slump and you can’t help but feel like a failure. “I don’t know what to do.” You whisper quietly. “I- my creed- my purpose- you don’t want me here.” This is nothing like the armorer had told you it would be, and you feel like a failure. “I will no longer be mandalorian.”

“You are my riduur. You’re not failing. I - I don’t mind you here but-” He says your name, “you aren’t my servant. You’re my equal and I can make our foundling breakfast.” He declares and your beautiful face turns down.

You frown slightly and sigh. “Even if I am your equal, you would have me do nothing, contribute nothing.” You are stubborn in some ways and now you are clawing to find your place here. “I cannot share your bed, I cannot care for you and your foundling, I cannot share your burden.” You turn away and shake your head. “I am not allowed to share your life.” You walk back to your room quietly to put your armor back on.

Din sighs, looking at the kid who clicks his tongue at him in reprimand. “I know.” Din sighs and Grogu finishes his food. After he’s finished eating, Din cleans up and takes Grogu to school, wanting to give you some space.

Once you have your armor on, you pull your weapons out, intent on cleaning them. Knowing that Din would be happier if you weren’t here, you decide to leave your bag packed. Bringing your weapons out to the table to start disassembling them.

Din returns home without Grogu to find you sitting at the kitchen counter, back in Beskar and even wearing your helmet. That disappoints Din a little, already missing seeing your beautiful face. He can still imagine you naked. Wants to even if his conscience won’t allow it. He sighs and makes his way onto the porch, deciding to look through his holos to see if anything new has come in

You finish cleaning your weapons, reassembling them and sliding them into the holster on your hip. Your helmet tilts slightly when Din comes back into the room. "I am going into town." You tell your riduur, giving him more consideration than he had given you when he left.

Din nods, not wanting to show you that he’s a little bothered by you leaving but he grunts softly, “be careful.” Despite knowing you’re more than capable as a Mandalorian to look after yourself.

You nod, turning and walking away from the small dwelling and checking your map that is pulled up on your bracer. You try not to take his warning to heart, it doesn’t mean that he cares, probably that he would just prefer not to have to provide any backup.

****

It’s been a week since you arrived and Din has tried to keep his distance. It’s clear to him that you’re not happy to not be fulfilling your duty but he doesn’t try to rectify that. He needs to keep away. It’s hard though. Every day he’s spent around you is making it harder to not touch you. You are beautiful. Inside and out he’s discovered. He spends his nights touching himself, jerking himself off to thoughts of you.

It is probably the longest time that you have spent in your armor in years. When you were training, you had kept to fitted clothes, with your helmet on as you moved through the tunnels, but when you were in your training room, you didn’t have it on. It wasn’t needed. Now, in deference to your riduur, you were wearing your armor and helmet unless you were sleeping and it’s driving you insane. Chaffing and making you feel too encapsulated. You had been eyeing the hot spring that was behind the living quarters, knowing that a soak would go a long way to restoring your spirits.

Din just dropped Grogu off at school when he is walking across the sand and sees you. He knows it’s you. His visor zooming in to see you getting into the hot spring. Naked. He should look away. He should go inside. He can’t. His cock twitches and he changes direction to hide away from your line of sight so he can watch you. It’s so wrong, but fuck, his hand is sore from jerking himself off. To know you’re his in name, in creed, has him hard and aching for you. Especially now he knows what you’re like. You’re sweet and kind, gentle with Grogu and he knows he is getting more and more lenient with his strict vow to stay away from you.

Moaning at the heat and how good it feels on your skin, you settle down onto a little rock ledge inside the spring that acts as a natural seat. You wonder if Din has ever soaked in the spring, but figure that he is so ridged, he would not for fear of someone coming up on him. Throwing your arms back, you close your eyes, sighing at the freedom and sense of pleasure you get from being out of your armor.

Maker. He is aching in his flight suit, watching you as you arch your back to expose your breasts over the swell of the water and he groans at the way your nipples harden. He moves closer to watch you, knowing this is wrong but he wants to see you.

You had reached out the armorer to talk to her, only getting the advice to stay firm and not let Din drive you away. So here you are. Right now, the problems that you have with Din feel minute, the sun isn’t too hot today and there is a nice breeze coming from the city that seems to temper the weather.

Din watches you from the shadows. He feels guilty for watching you but he can’t help it. He groans softly, reaching down to squeeze himself through his flight suit, his eyes drinking in your form as you relax.

The steam rises around you and it strikes you that this is a really romantic spot. It would be very sensual and you decide to push off the wall and submerge yourself completely, going under the water. Imagining being here with Din and having him naked in the water beside you.

When you get out of the spring, Din inhales sharply, and he loves the way the water slides along your skin as you stand up. He groans softly, squeezing his cock through his pants and he watches you, caught under your spell as you stand there naked and glistening under the sun.

You don’t want to get dressed again. You don’t want to go back into the little house where you don’t fit into any role. Instead, you sit on a stone on the edge of the hot springs and stretch out, letting the sun bake your skin dry.

Din knows he shouldn’t be watching you like this. He swallows harshly and closes his eyes, making his way back into the cabin, working fast to pull his aching cock out of his flight suit. He sits down on the edge of his bed and forgets to shut the door as he grips his cock and starts to pump himself.

The door closes and your eyes open, lifting your head to look around. “Din?” You ask, sitting up and standing quickly. If he is back home, you should go back in the house with your armor on, but you don’t. Quickly walking inside nude and calling his name again. “Din? Are you here, riduur?”

Din pants as he gathers the pre-cum from the tip of his cock, working his length as the sight of your figure burned into his retinas. He will never forget it. He groans and doesn’t notice you coming into the cabin, calling his name. His usually razor sharp senses are dulled by the pleasure and lust racing through his veins.

“Din?” You can hear him grunt in his room, pausing near his door. You shouldn’t go inside, you’ve never been in his room. Respecting his privacy - but what if he’s hurt? You bite your lip, reaching for the button to open the door and rush in as soon as the door slides open. “Din, are you-” You stop in shock, seeing him grip his cock. A thick, long cock that has you instantly dripping wet. “I-”

His eyes widen as you enter his room and he gasps your name under the helmet. “I- riduur. I didn’t - I’m sorry.” He lets go of his cock and starts to tuck himself away from your sight, you shake your head, moving fast to kneel before him and take his cock in your hand and then within seconds, you’re taking his cock into your mouth. “Dank Ferrik.” He hisses, “you don’t- you don’t have to do this.” He chokes out, not wanting you to do this if you feel obligated.

You swallow around him before you pull off with a small pop. “I want to, Maker, I want to.” You promise, squeezing the base of his cock as you look up at him with a lustful smile. “I’ve found you sexy from the first moment I saw you. Even in your old armor. I want to touch you.” You repeat before you duck your head again to take him deep into your mouth. Loving how thick he is and the way his vein throbs on your tongue.

He can’t argue, not when your lips are wrapping around his cock and taking him deeper. Maker, you’re gorgeous. Your eyes look up at him and he reaches out to caress your cheek with his gloved hand. “Riduur. You - fuck - your mouth.” He pants, refusing to close his eyes as you take him into your mouth.

You wish you could see his eyes. To mark how he looks when he cums rather than the expressionless visor. Instead of focusing on it, you decide you want to pull moans out of him. Swirling your tongue around the head and bobbing up and down until you are taking him deep into your throat and the fabric of his flight suit is against your nose.

“Fuck. Cyar’ika. I- shit. You’re so good. So good.” He rambles slightly as you take him deep enough to push him down your throat. “Fuck.” He chokes, unused to this. You are taking him without issue and it’s pushing him closer to orgasm quicker than he’d care to. “Riduur. You’re - I’m going to-” He grunts as he twitches in your mouth.

You want him to cum. Want him to spill down your throat to taste him. To milk him dry. You hum around his length and start swallowing, knowing that he will enjoy the pressure and buck into your mouth if he wants to be deeper.

He lets out something between a cry and a moan as he starts to cum. Spilling down your throat as you swallow around him and he clenches his fists beside his thighs as you work him dry. It’s more than he’s ever experienced and it’s intoxicating.

You don’t let up, not pulling off until he stops throbbing. Swallowing every gloriously salty drop of his release and listening to the laborious pants that slip from underneath his helmet. You slowly start to pull off his cock, humming as you rock back and look up at him innocently. “Good, riduur?”

Din gulps, trying to catch his breath as you look at him with wide eyes and he swears his heart is about to beat out of his chest. “Maker, riduur. I- fuck. You need to get on the bed. I want to touch you.” He says as he tucks his cock away and he reaches for his gloves, “I want to see how wet you are.”

You are thrilled that he wants to touch you. Watching him strip off his gloves as you move to the bed and spread out. There’s no shame as you spread your thighs to reveal your dripping cunt. You had leaked onto the floor when you were sucking his cock. “Dripping, riduur.”

He groans at the sight of your folds. Maker, you are beautiful. “Mesh’la.” He murmurs, reaching out to slide his fingers through your folds. Fuck, you are dripping. He groans and moves his fingers up to rub your clit.

You bite your lip, moaning in pleasure as your nipples hard in desire. Finally feeling your riduur touch you has your cunt throbbing. “Din.” You whimper, rolling your hips down, greedy for his touch. “Please, Riduur.”

He loves the way you moan his name. So sweet and so needy. He slides his fingers down to push two thick digits inside of you. He groans as your walls surround his fingers, wet and tight, and he imagines how you’d feel around his cock. “Fuck. You’re so wet.” He rasps, voice modulated but you can hear the lust.

“For you.” Your fingers dig into his flight suit as you hold onto him. Rocking your hips up and clenching down around him when he strikes something gorgeous inside. “Wet for you. I want- I want you to fill me.” You beg quietly. “I want to experience it- you. Your cock inside me.”

Din groans at the way you beg, "cyar'ika. I've never - you'd be the first. I don't want to disappoint you." He confesses as he works his fingers inside of you. "I've done this. That's it." He reveals, working his fingers and his thumb presses against your clit.

“I- I’ve never- you would be my first.” You remind him, whimpering and jerking your hips up to his touch. “I have no- no expectations. We would learn together.”

"Maker." He hisses as you reveal you're a virgin too. He had tried so hard to forget that. "You'll be mine. All mine." He growls and works his fingers a little faster. You are made for him. You are his riduur and that makes him feral.

“All yours.” You moan, tilting your head back and closing your eyes. “Fuck, Din, please. I- oh fuck.” You cry out when he pushes against that spot again and your entire body lights up. “It’s so good, please, cyar’ika.”

He wants to watch you fall apart around his digits. "That's it, mesh’la. Cum for me." He demands, pushing his fingers against that spot that makes you gush around him. "That's it baby. Cum for your riduur."

Whimpering, his words flash through you and make your body light up in pleasure. Pushing you over the edge and your walls clamp down around his fingers. Body shaking as you cry out.

Din groans as you soak his fingers, working you through it, and his cock is hardening again at the thought of you being his, completely his. Something switched in him when he saw you in that spring and his previous qualms and morality have gone out of the window. He’s spent too long alone and he wants you. He craves you.

Your whines finally give out to breathy pants and you close your eyes. Expecting your riduur to pull away now that you’ve both been satisfied. “Riduur…” you murmur quietly. “That was- was so good. Your fingers are so good.” You praise quietly.

"I want to taste you." Din declares, knowing he can remove his helmet in front of you as your riduur. He is nervous, hands shaking as his damp fingers unlock the seal of his helmet and your eyes carefully watch him as he removes the last barrier between you. He's still in full beskar but the helmet is his most precious protection against the galaxy - not just physically, but emotionally.

Your eyes widen when he actually lifts the helmet up. So sure that he would never break that barrier with you. Watching as a strong jaw, sharp now and soft brown eyes are revealed to you. “Maker.” You whimper softly. “My riduur is the most handsome man in the galaxy.”

Din blushes, actually blushes as his emotions are on clear display without his helmet. Unused to censoring his facial expressions. “Riduur. You don’t - we are already bound.” He mutters, setting his helmet down on the side.

“And I am lucky.” You smile, biting your lip at how demure he is being. It’s very appealing since he looks so intimidating with the helmet on. “Only I get to see you.”

His heart skips a beat in his chest, making it feel like he can hardly breathe as you look at him like he’s the only one in the galaxy. He swallows and nods, reaching out to caress your thighs. “Wanna taste you, cyar’ika.” He murmurs, shifting you down the bed until he’s lying between your spread thighs.

You know that he’s never tried something like this, so you nod. “Whatever you want, riduur.” You promise, Reaching down and running your fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp. He groans and you know it’s a good sound. You always want to scratch your head when your own helmet comes off.

He groans as he leans closer, breathing you in, and he tentatively slides his tongue through your folds. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s seen this in holovids he’s watched late at night but he’s never done it. The tangy taste makes him smack his lips and he does it again, sliding his tongue through your folds until he’s flicking your clit.

“Oh!” You gasp, shivering at the contact and you want to close your thighs together. You can’t because of the broad shoulders and armor between them. Looking down at him is the sexiest sight and your cunt bottoms out around nothing, making you fling your head back against his pillow. “Maker, oh fuck, how- it’s- keep going.” You beg.

Din doesn’t want to stop. The breathless cries coming from you have him ravenous. He doesn’t know what he’s doing so it’s sloppy and uncoordinated but what he lacks in skill, he makes up for with enthusiasm.

You love how eager he is, devoting himself to the task with a singular determination. “Din!” You cry out and roll your hips down to meet his eager tongue. “So good! Fuck, you’re so good.”

He groans at your praise, sliding his tongue through your folds again until he sucks your clit into his mouth. His hands squeeze your flesh, pushing your legs back so he can access more of your flesh.

You keen at the way he devours you. Completely gorging himself and not being shy about it. Greedily sucking and licking at you like it’s his only task. “Oh fuck, right there!” You gasp out.

He follows your gasped demand, repeating the motion that makes your thighs tighten around his head and his cock is aching against his flight suit. He grinds into the bed as you thrash and he throws his armored arm across your stomach to keep you still

It doesn't take you long, just a few more minutes of his tongue swiping through your folds, until you are flying. Crying out a loud "Din!" before your entire body locks up and you clench down on his fingers to soak them with your release.

Din groans as you clench around on his fingers and he sucks on your clit until you’re pushing his face away from you. He kisses your mound and rests his chin there, mustache glistening with your cum as he offers you a small smile.

“I can’t- that was so good.” You admit breathlessly. “I could be addicted to that, to you.” You admit, reaching down and caressing his cheek. He flinches but doesn’t pull away, leaning into your hand and letting you touch him. “I want you to claim me.” You tell him. “Make me your riduur completely. Let me give you what no one else has experienced.”

Din nods, shifting off of the bed to work on removing his armor. If you are to be his, he will reveal all of himself to you. He swallows harshly as nerves threaten to grip him and he works methodically to remove the beskar until he is shrugging out of his flight suit.

“Mesh’la.” You whisper, looking at the scars and imperfect skin that makes up the body of your riduur. A warrior who has survived every battle he has faced. He is a Mandalorian, and you are proud to be his. “Come to me.” You beg him.

He can’t deny you. Shifting onto his hands and knees, he crawls over your body and leans down to caress your waist, his hand grabbing your tit as he leans down to kiss you for the first time. The first time he’s kissed anyone. It’s messy and he hits your nose with his at first. “Sorry.” He murmurs, feeling unsure.

You giggle and cup both of his cheeks with your hands, cradling them and try again. “It’s okay.” You promise, moaning softly when his lips land like they are supposed to on yours. Closing your eyes and sinking into the sensation. You love it, could live with his lips pressed to yours.

Din groans, pecking your lips several times, and he slides his hand along your leg, "tell me if it hurts." He murmurs, unsure and lacking confidence as he grips his cock and squeezes, positioning himself at your entrance. "Are you ready for me, riduur?" He asks softly, nudging his nose against your jaw.

“Yes, Din.” You moan softly. “I am ready for you.” It’s on the tip of your tongue to tell him that you’ve been waiting for him your entire life. You don’t think that he would believe you, but you have been waiting for him and now that he’s here, you are eager to have him inside you.

He nods, shifting closer and he locks eyes with you as he starts to push into you. This moment - it’s one that Din never imagined having. Naked in bed with his riduur. It’s almost enough to make him cum. He groans as he pushes into your tight, wet heat and he swears he sees stars.

You whimper, the thick length of him stretching you out in ways that you could have never imagined. So much bigger than the fingers you had earlier, your eyes roll back. You can feel his body tense and from your training, you know that he will cum before you do. “So good.” you coo, caressing his back. “Move, riduur, please.”

He grunts, clenching his jaw to control himself as he starts to move inside of you. You’re his dream. The woman he’s always imagined when he jerked his cock was faceless but now he knows who she is. It’s you. You belong to him. He groans and leans down to kiss your neck, biting down on the flesh like he’s wanted to do since he saw your face as he starts to move inside of you.

Whining, you can’t help but tighten down around him. Loving how he had sunk his teeth into your skin. “Din!” You cry out, holding onto him desperately while your entire body rocks up on the bed.

He loves the way you moan his name, rocking into you over and over and it’s too much. “I - fuck. Mesh’la. I- Maker.” He pants and grunts as he pushes his cock deep inside of you and within seconds he’s painting your walls with his hot seed.

You moan, loving how hot it feels inside you. How full you feel as you roll your hips down. You caress his back and sigh happily, kissing along his shoulder as he rides out his pleasure.

Din groans at the way you take all of him. "Fuck." He pants, coming to a stop as his cock twitches inside of you, turning his head to press his lips to yours. "Riduur." He murmurs, "thank you."

Din gathers his senses and his eyes widen as he looks down at you, “I- riduur. You didn’t - I’ve failed you.” He chokes, feeling guilty and he doesn’t know how to handle the fact that he took your innocence and you never got to climax from it.

Frowning, you shake your head, unsure of what he means. “Failed me?” You huff. “You didn’t- I didn’t make you cum.” Din chokes out and you are astonished. “Riduur, I will not cum every time we have sex. I know that. It’s okay. You made me cum before and it was better than any pleasure I’ve ever had in training.”

Din frowns, carefully pulling out of you and he looks at you as you offer him a doe eyed look that has his stomach twisting with confusion and guilt. “Training? As in - as in fighting?” He asks, his brow furrowed and he’s not used to his emotions being on full display.

You tile your head in confusion, sure that he was aware of what was involved in your training. “I was trained in fighting when I was younger, but I am talking about the training for pleasure.” You correct him.

Din’s eyes widen and he shuffles away from you in shock. “Plea-pleasure? But I thought - you said you were-” His brow furrows once more, “you said you were a virgin and I- shit. I’m confused.”

“I was.” Sitting up, you ignore your nudity and look into his eyes. “While in training, since I could remove my helmet, oral sex was the focus of my lessons.” You explain. “No one was allowed to penetrate me. Not even fingering me. They could rub my clit, but most just wanted their own release.” You smile at him. “You are not a selfish partner.”

Din doesn’t know how to feel. You’ve been trained to be his riduur, even trained to please him sexually. He feels sick. Not because of you, but because of what you’ve been through. For him. Because of him. “You- oral sex? With who?” He asks, unsure of what to do other than ask questions.

You shrug casually, swinging your feet over the edge of the bed and standing. You need to clean up since his cum is starting to drip out of you. “Whoever came into the training rooms.” You say simply. “Sometimes the armorer would turn away some, but there was always someone willing to let me train with them.”

He feels violated on your behalf. The armorer essentially forcing you to train in oral sex for his pleasure. “Maker.” Din shuffles off of the bed, immediately reaching for his flight suit to pull it on. “Because of me. You went through that because of me.” He chokes and stumbles out of the room.

You frown as he rushes out of the room, wondering why he is so upset that you would be trained. Cleaning up quickly, you realize you are in his room and have none of your clothes so you walk out to find your riduur.

Din is panicking. He’s just taken your innocence, given you his, and he’s found out that you were trained to be his by members of the covert. Men he knows. Men who would know you. He is fuming at the thought of those men knowing what his riduur is like, what her body looks like. He stalks through the cabin back to his room to find you gone and he takes his Beskar to put it back on.

Upset that he has left, you put your armor back on. Wanting the comfort of the physical shielding between you. It’s like you’ve been rejected all over again and it’s even more painful now that you know what he looks like, what he feels like.

Din doesn’t know how to handle the knowledge, deciding to take his blaster outside to do some target practice before he picks up the kid. Not that he needs target practice but it will take his mind off of things.

Waiting is the worst part. Sitting around and not knowing what is happening. You hear blaster fire in the distance and sigh. Deciding to send a message to the armorer, hoping she will know what to do.

Din tries to process what just happened. He had sex with his riduur who has been groomed to be his. It makes him sick. You’re a beautiful woman, inside and out, and if he’d known you in the covert, he would’ve liked you naturally, but to know you’ve been raised to be his has him on edge. Grogu senses it when Din picks him up and when the duo arrive back at the cabin, Grogu toddles over to you and coos.

“Hey.” You choke out the word, grateful for your helmet so you don’t show your tear stained face. Bending down, you pick up the little one. His presence and obvious adoration makes you feel a bit better and you concentrate on that instead of the man behind him. “How was your day?”

Grogu coos again, lifting his hand up to press to your helmet, showing you his day including Din picking him up and bringing him home. He had picked up the distress in his father and Din is just as tense now as he watches you and Grogu interact.

You manage to grin, bolstered by the child’s antics, including sneaking a cookie from another kid and you chuckle. “You had a good day then.” You hum. “Do you want to go chase frogs while I make you some dinner?” You aren’t asking Din if you can, knowing he would have some objection to it.

Grogu waddles off after you set him down and Din calls after him, "don't go too far." He is glad Grogu keeps the door open so he can keep an eye on him and he sighs as he turns towards you. "So...how was your day?" He asks, knowing that he took your innocence today but he's trying to make some kind of conversation.

You don’t look at him, but your visor is turned towards him. Instead of answering him, you just turn and walk towards the galley kitchen to start making a meal for the young foundling. He had been upset by your training, so you don’t think that having a conversation is a good idea.

Din suppresses the sigh that works its way up his throat and he heads outside to sit down on the porch to watch Grogu chase the frogs, floating them up in the air. “Don’t torture them, kid.” He shouts out and Grogu trills as he lets the frog drop into the water. Din fiddles with the edge of his beskar, unsure of what to say to you. It’s him, he’s the one who has made this awkward and he doesn’t regret that. He doesn’t know if you’re doing this out of obligation and duty. He doesn’t want you to want him because of duty or creed.

You move around the kitchen quietly, heartbroken that Din doesn’t want you anymore. You had done everything that you had been taught. Tried to please him and be the partner, the riduur, that he deserved. And still he doesn’t want you. The armorer told you that no one could come for another three weeks. Until then, you are stuck on Nevarro, with a man who doesn’t want you.

****

It's been four weeks since you arrived on Nevarro and Din has kept his distance, sleeping in his own bed, and he hasn't touched you. You've mainly avoided him, taking over caring for Grogu and spending time in your room. He feels guilty, for you being bound to him and him not fulfilling his duty as your riduur but how can he when you were trained to be his? Groomed to be his? It's too much to handle and he has kept away.

Today is the day. The armorer sent you a halo message, telling you that Kledo, another mandalorian from the new covert on Mandalore, will be here by the time the sun is setting. After Din leaves to take Grogu to school, you pull out your bags to start packing your things. Over the week before you had slept with Din, you had spread your things out, so now you methodically pack them away.

Din drops Grogu off and comes back to the cabin, entering with a sigh as he expects to see you in the kitchen preparing lunch but you’re not there. He calls out your name, frowning under the helmet. He calls your name again, a little more frantic, and he rushes through the cabin to try and find you. He enters your room and finds it empty of your things. “Dank Ferrik.” He curses, grabbing his blaster and he tries to figure out if you've gone to the transporter station. He makes his way there and looks around, trying to find you but you’re gone.

When you break atmo, you start to cry under your helmet. Silent tears that stream down your cheek and gather at your chin. Dripping down onto the fabric of your flight suit and absorbed into the fabric. If Kledo had questions about why he was picking up Din Djarin’s riduur and bringing her to Mandalore, he never voices them, just concentrates on your trip there.

Din interrogates the ticket staff who tell him no Mandalorians have come through the ticket hall and he growls, stalking off to the cabin and he immediately calls the Armorer. "Din Djarin." Her cool voice makes him vibrate with annoyance. "Where is my riduur?" He demands and she shakes her helmet, "you rejected her. She is returning to the covert with Kledo." She declares and Din doesn't waste another second. He hangs up and rushes to the school to collect Grogu, getting into his ship to make his way to a place he swore he'd never return to: Mandalore.

You sleep for most of the journey, after you cry yourself out. Waking when you feel the engines change, approaching Mandalore. “We are here.” Kledo tells you, preparing for landing. “The armorer is waiting for you.”

"You've returned." The Armorer declares as you enter the welding room. She stands tall and you shrink into yourself. "You failed. You have failed your mission as a riduur to the Mandalor." She says without sympathy.

“Yes.” You swallow under your helmet and try not to cry. “Din Djarin rejected me, but not before taking my innocence. I was not good enough.” You tell her. “I have come to ask that you break the riduurok. He should not be bound to someone who is dar’manda.”

The Armorer shakes her head, "you have failed and he has not succeeded in getting you with child?" She asks, wanting to confirm this before you are made dar'manda.

“I-“ you frown slightly, faltering because you don’t know if he had planted his seed in your womb. “I have not bled.” You admit quietly, “but it has only been three weeks since I shared his bed.”

"You will not be dar'manda until we confirm. If you are indeed pregnant, you shall remain with the covert until you give birth...then you will be sent away. The babe would remain." She declares and you nod, despite screaming inside. Din has never traveled faster in his life through the galaxy until he is landing on Mandalore. Many of his kin greet him by bowing their helmets but he doesn't pay attention, rushing into the lower sects of the covert to find you.

Your hands shake as you start to strip your armor and flight suit. Feeling shame for the first time as the armorer had ordered you to prepare to be examined. You have become used to being covered in your time with Din, feeling exposed as you reveal your skin and sink down to your knees to await the covert doctor with nothing but your helmet on.

Din is rushing through the halls, demanding to know where you are. His heart pounding as Grogu swings from the satchel he’s in at Din’s side. Din pushes people out of the way, some shouting at his back as he rushes through the halls to find you and eventually, he discovers you and the Armorer in her quarters. “Riduur.” He rushes over to you, your helmet on and your body covered in a blanket. “What is going on here?” He demands to know.

The Armorer looks at Din and then back down at the piece of steel she was crafting into a cuff. “We are waiting to see if she will be dar’manda now,” She intones. “Or if carrying your child will delay her exile.” Your head lowers even further, shamed that you have failed and unsure why Din is here, unless it is to demand the shuk’la riduurok himself.

Din's eyes widen beneath the helmet, horrified at what you are going through and all because of him. "Is this necessary?" He demands and the Armorer nods, "this will be the next leader of Mandalore, we need to see if she is with child." Din shakes his head, "with an audience?" He hisses as you are naked and he wants to cover your body with his. "This is the way." The Armorer declares and Din's upper lip curls in disgust even if no one can see it. "She will not be dar'manda."

There is a hushed silence and your head lifts slightly. “Then you claim her as your riduur?” The Armorer asks loudly, and there is shuffling behind you, other mandalorians filing into the chamber to witness your shame. “She is under the impression that you wish to break your riduurok. That you regret taking her innocence.”

Din is horrified, shaking his helmet. “I do not regret taking her innocence because of her. I regret - she was groomed. Forced to be what I need and I- she should have freedom of choice. To not be forced to be my riduur because she’s been trained to be so. To find out she has given oral sex to most of the men here…she’s been violated and I feel guilty that I was the cause.” He confesses, “it’s my fault.”

“How is this your fault?” The Armorer tilts her head curiously. “This is her path, she could have chosen not to walk it.” She informs him. “She chose to take the oath and to train, it is just as honorable as the path you have walked.”

Din stutters, “she didn’t - I didn’t ask for my riduur to be trained for me. She deserves freedom of choice. To be allowed to be who she is and love who she wants. She - I don’t want a riduur who is ordered to want me. I want her to want me because she wants me.” He explains, his hands sweaty in his gloves.

“She does love you.” The Armorer tells Din, motioning to you as you kneel on the ground in front of her forge. “If she did not, she would have stayed. Keeping you bound to vows you didn’t not wish.” There is a smug sense of rightness in her tone and you wonder if you are so obvious in your motives. “Shuk’la riduurok would not affect you. You would continue to be as you have always been.” She tilts her head and hums. “Perhaps you have your heart on the line as well, because why are you here, Din Djarin? If not to fight for your riduur.”

Din rears back as the emotional impact of the past month hits him. He is here to fight for you, the same way he'd fight for anyone he loves. He fights for the people that mean the most to him and suddenly that includes you. Between the distance and the closest he's ever been with another, blurred in those lines, Din Djarin has fallen in love with you. He swallows harshly, "I am here to claim my riduur...and my ad...if that is the situation." He adds and Grogu coos from his satchel, gesturing to you.

Your helmet slowly lifts, shocked to hear that coming out of Din’s mouth and you swear you are imagining things. He wants to claim you? “You claim your riduur?” The Armorer demands once more, finishing with your name. “I do.” Din nods, untwisting his cape from around his cowl and draping it over your shoulders to cover your body. “She is mine by vow and creed.” He adds.

Your helmet tilts up towards his and he shifts to kneel, Grogu jumping out of his satchel and Din leans in to press his helmet to yours. “She is mine and I am hers.” He promises and the Armorer nods. “Very well. Let us see if she is with Ad.” She demands and Din shakes his head. “No. Not like this. Let me take her to her room and we will find out in private.” He says and helps you stand up with his cloak still wrapped around you.

Still in shock that he’s here, you let Din lead you out of the forge room and off to a secluded hall. “Din?” You whisper, reaching out to touch his cloak, wondering if you are imagining this. If you are living inside a little fantasy. “Are you- you claimed me?”

Din doesn’t answer you as he looks down the hall, Grogu following his steps. “Where is your room here, cyar’ika?” He asks, wanting to get you somewhere private before he talks to you.

Your heart sinks, sure that he is just getting you alone so that he can reject you. Keep it private and publicly have the illusion of claiming you. “Through here.” You motion down the hall to a door next to the training room.

Din swallows harshly, guiding you into the room and Grogu follows at your feet. Once you're inside, he takes a breath and turns to face you. "Why did you leave?" He demands, wanting to know why you left him without even saying goodbye.

“You did not want me there.” You remind him. “You left me after- after we had sex.” You pull the edges of the cape around you and bite your lip under the helmet. “I did what was needed to give you back your freedom.” Shaking your head, you shrug. “What else was I supposed to do?”

Din's stomach twists, guilty for being so scared that he ran as soon as he touched you. For ignoring you after the event until today. "I- riduur. I have been alone my entire life until Grogu came along. He was my only purpose and I never imagined finding someone. I accepted being alone and then you came along and you - you changed everything. You took care of us - of me. You loved me. It was more than I could handle especially when you were doing it because you were groomed to be mine. I hate that you never had a choice."

“I did have a choice.” You tilt your head and frown under your helmet. “I - Din…the Armorer told me who I would be joined with if I took the Creed.” You explain. Maybe you had messed up by not clarifying before. “She had already chosen you to be the next leader of our covert after her. I knew this. I want this, I wanted you.” You bite your lip. “You were the one who didn’t have a choice, I guess.”

Din shakes his head, "maybe I didn't have a choice but I do now and I- I claim you, riduur. I want you. I - I love you. If you want me, I am yours. If you want me to leave, I will go. I won't force you. You pick your path, you choose your destiny."

Letting go of the cape, you reach up and unlock your helmet. Slipping it off your head so you can look your riduur in his eyes. “I want to go back to Nevarro with you.” You confess softly. “If I am not carrying your ad, I would like to. Soon. I want to raise warriors with you. Not just because of my creed but because I want to have children with my riduur.”

Din looks into those beautiful eyes and doesn’t hesitate to reach up to remove his own helmet, setting it down before he cups your cheeks so he can look into your eyes without the visor. “Mesh’la. I want you to come home with me.” He declares, leaning in to kiss you softly.

Your lips melt against his and you sigh in relief. Tears started pouring out of your eyes again even though you had sworn you couldn’t cry anymore. “I want to come home with you.”

He caresses your cheek and rests his forehead against yours, “good. Let’s go home, riduur.” He is so pleased that you want to be with him. “Are you- do you want to find out if you’re carrying our ad?”

As if to answer his question, there is a knock on the door to your room. “That would be the covert doctor.” You tell Din. “You should put your helmet back on.”

Din nods, placing the helmet back on his head. Just because he loves you, doesn’t mean his habits will die. He locks the latches just as the doctor comes in and Din stands straighter, suddenly defensive of you.

“I hear you might be expecting.” The tone of the mandalorian doctor is chipper and you’ve always liked her. The chipper purple armor of her Beskar makes you smile. “I am hoping you can tell us that.” You admit, gesturing to Din. “My riduur.”

Din nods, his stomach twisting with nerves as the doctor pulls out the holopad and what looks like a scanner from her satchel. “Din Djarin.” Din introduces himself and the doctor nods, “Mand’alor.” She bows her head in respect and Din shakes his head, “please. Just Din.”

You bite your lip, knowing that it’s futile to argue that while most of the Mandalorians follow Bo-Katan, they view Din as the real Mand’alor. Even Bo has wished Din would come back to the planet to help her lead. “Will you be able to tell? It’s only been three weeks.”

“We have advantaged technology to be able to tell.” She promises, “please lay down.” She says and you shift to lay down on the bed. Din follows, hovering over you and the doctor asks you to remove your cloak, “just so we can get close enough.” She explains and Din is tense as she pushes buttons on the holopad before the scanner whooshes to life and she hovers it over your lower stomach.

You reach for Din’s hand, hoping that will help him relax. You are used to the doctor, so you are comfortable with her and bite your lip as you look for any indication from the doctor’s helmet. She hums and moves it around, making you shiver at the slightly energetic feel of the scanner above your skin.

Din squeezes your hand, anxious and feeling a little nauseous until the doctor smiles, pointing out the small dot on the screen. “There they are. It’s - it’s very early but you are with ad.” She declares and Din inhales sharply. He’s terrified. He’s nervous but he’s happy. So happy. “Our ad.” He murmurs, a little in shock.

“Our ad.” You repeat in wonder, feeling more tears welling up in your eyes. “We are going to be buirs.” You whimper, squeezing his hand. “The very first time you touched me.”

Din leans in to press his forehead against yours, wishing you could see the wonder on his face, but that will have to wait for later. Grogu coos and Din turns to look at him. "Big brother." Din tells his foundling who straightens up as if ready to take on the role.

You choke out a happy giggle when you see the little foundling’s happy stance and look back at Din. Reaching up to caress his helmet. “I want to go home, riduur.” You tell him quietly. “Tomorrow. For now….i want to rest and celebrate.” Your eyes widen as you realize what this pregnancy means. “The first child born after retaking Mandalore.”

Din smiles under his helmet, “our first child.” He says and rests his forehead against yours. A Mandalorian you know, Ele, comes in about ten minutes later after the doctor leaves to ask if you want anything to eat or drink. “She will eat. And so must Grogu.” Din says and Ele nods, “I will take him for food and will bring him back with some for you. I am certain you wish to celebrate the news.” She says and your eyes widen at the fact that the news has spread so fast. Din hesitates, anxious to be separated from the kid but you know this woman so he will trust her. Grogu coos as he is willingly escorted to where the food is and Din wastes no time unlatching his helmet, throwing it down so he can lean in to press his lips to yours.

“We are having a baby.” You whisper against his lips, giggling. “I cannot believe it.” You are amazed that it happened so quickly. His seed is potent apparently.

Din nudges his nose against yours and kisses your forehead. “We are having a baby.” He murmurs, grinning as his hand caresses your stomach. “I love you, riduur.” He murmurs, “want to show you.”

“You do?” Your brows lift in surprise and you bite your lip. “How? How do you want to show me?” You don’t want to assume that he wants to touch you, although you have been told that men love to show their affection through sex.

Din slides his hand a little lower until he’s cupping your bare cunt, “I want to make you cum. I want to cum inside of you.” He murmurs, “claim you again. I want - I want you to ride me. Ride your riduur.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck.

You whimper quietly and tilt your head. This is a very different side of your riduur than you’ve previously experienced and you like it. “Ride you? You’ve imagined that?”

“Yes.” He confesses, his hand sliding lower until his fingers slide between your bare folds. “I want you to take your pleasure from me.” He murmurs, rubbing your clit with his fingers.

You moan softly, arching your hips up to his touch. “You will pleasure me.” You decide with a groan. “Strip your armor off, riduur.”

He nods, pulling his hand away from you to work diligently to remove his beskar until he’s in his flight suit. “I’ll look after you, riduur.” He promises and moves to remove the flight suit, his hard cock bouncing as he kicks it aside after removing his boots.

“You are- excited….” You murmur, sitting up and reaching out to wrap your hand around his hard cock. “What has you so worked up, riduur? Do you like your baby in my belly?”

He nods, a grunt escaping his lips. He never imagined he'd be so turned on by the idea of you round with his ad but he is. He pants when you start to pump him and he leans in to press his lips to yours, "yes, mesh'la."

“Then lay down.” You order softly. “I’ll show you how you planted your ad in me by riding your cock until you fill me up again.” You squeeze him gently before you let him go.

He groans and nods, quickly shifting to lay down on the bed beside you and his hands caressing your sides as you shift to straddle him. “Mesh’la riduur. My riduur.” He murmurs, proud of his claim over you. His hands slide up to gently squeeze your tits.

You moan quietly, closing your eyes as you shift to letting him lay down. Straddling his waist and grinding down onto his hard cock.

Din groans as you grind onto him. “That’s it baby. Keep - keep going. Want you to fuck me.” He murmurs, his dark eyes flicking up towards you. “Take what you need, cyar’ika.” He tells you, wanting you to be pleasured.

It’s different, keeping the control instead of giving it up to your riduur. It might be intoxicating because of how much it turns you on. Having your riduur submit to you and want you to take your pleasure from him. Reaching down, you line up with his thick length and slowly sink down onto him with a moan of his name.

Din watches you in rapture as you take his cock inside of you. He’s groaning your name and watching his length disappear inside of you. “You’re so right, mesh’la.” He murmurs, his eyes flicking up towards you and he reaches up to caress your cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too, riduur.” You whisper back, leaning over once he’s fully seated inside you and kissing him softly. Gazing into his eyes and watching him with wonder. He's here, he’s claiming you and you’re going to have his ad.

His hands slide down to caress your body, taking in your beauty and he loves you. “You’re mine. I will protect you with my life.” He promises, thrusting up into you as you grind down onto him. “After this, we will return home.” He promises and you nod, “home.”

He wants to return to Nevarro with you. To have you in the little home he has on the edge of the desert. You have fallen in love with it, with him and his foundling. Even the strange friends he has with the people there. “I love you, riduur.” You promise, having to kiss him again and caresses his cheek softly. “My riduur.”

Din smiles against your lips and he slides his hands along your back. “Baby, you - you are so good to me.” He murmurs against your chin and he kisses along your jaw. “My riduur.” He sighs, his hands sliding down to your hips and he helps you rock on his cock.

This time is just as sweet as the first. Just as awe inspiring. Even if you are slightly stiff as you find what position is best for you to ride him. Finding that you love it when you are pressed against his chest most of all.

He caresses your back and down to your ass, squeezing and smacking your cheeks playfully to get you to move on his cock. “That’s it baby. Ride my cock. Wanna feel you cum.” He says, groaning at the new position. It’s more than he could ever imagine. He’s clenching his jaw to try to hold off his orgasm, wanting you to cum for him.

“Rub my- oh rub my clit.” You beg, grabbing his hand and moving it between you to the sensitive little bundle of nerves. “Oh fuck, Din.” You hiss when he presses and starts to quickly rub tight circles.

He follows your order, rubbing your clit a little faster and he loves the way you flutter around his cock. “That’s it, riduur. Maker, your cunt is so tight.” He groans and thrusts up into you, his feet flat on the bed and you’re pushed up his body as he works to make you cum.

Your chants of his name start to get loud, filtering out of your room and you know that anyone nearby would hear it. Making you gasp as you realize everyone in the covert, everyone on Mandalore would know that you are his. It throws you over the edge and you cry out in pleasure when your cunt clamps down on his cock.

He loved the way you cry out. It’s intoxicating and he knows that you are going to keep him on his toes. His eyes squeeze shut as you clamp down around his cock and he leans in to press his lips to yours, smothering the rest of the cry of his name and he squeezes your hips. “Baby. I- I’m going to - shit.” He hisses, “I’m going to cum.” He chokes and thrusts up into you three more times before he twitches inside of you, filling you with his hot seed.

Your eyes close and you smile as you lean down to burrow your face into his neck. “Fuck, that feels so good.” You whimper. “I hope you want many ads. Because I feel like you are going to keep me pregnant.”

Din chuckles, “we have nine months to make you feel good while you grow this one.” He says as he caresses your back. “Then we will make another. And another. And another.” He says as he kisses your neck over and over. “I love you, riduur. We were made for each other.” He murmurs, leaning back so he can cup your cheek. “Now, let’s get dressed and get you home.”

You reluctantly pull off his cock, dressing in the clothes that had somehow been brought back to your room after being stripped in the forge room. Reaching for your helmet and turning to look at your riduur one more time before his own helmet goes back on. “Let’s go home, Din.”

After you both redress, Din finds Grogu and escorts you to the dock where his ship awaits. The Armorer stands there, hands behind her back. “You will be back Mand’alor. The covert needs you. We shall see you when you are ready to return.” She says and Din stares at her for a second before he nods. After settling his family in the ship, he gets in and begins the journey to Nevarro. He isn’t sure what the future holds, if he is going to return to Mandalore. One thing is for certain, he will be spending his days with his riduur, raised his ads, his foundling, and he will protect them with his life. That is his creed. This is the way.

534 notes · View notes

kiwriteswords · 3 months ago

Text

Professional Distractions

AN: Alright, here's the winner from the poll!! It's funny; I wrote a multi-chapter years ago about Hotch x Secretary Reader, so this brought back some memories!

Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Secretary!Female!Reader

Word Count: 8.9k

Rating: Everyone!

Tags/TW: canon-typical themes, fluff, flirting

Summary: Aaron Hotchner thrives on control, order, and precision in both his work and personal life. But when a new secretary is assigned to his team, Hotch finds himself facing a different kind of challenge. Confident, witty, and effortlessly intriguing, she quickly becomes a presence he can't ignore. As their professional boundaries blur, Hotch is forced to confront feelings he never expected, and the calm, controlled world he's built begins to shift in unexpected ways.

Aaron Hotchner had never been one for frivolities in the office. Efficiency was his religion, order his creed. So, when Erin Strauss approached him with the idea that the BAU needed a secretary—he needed a secretary—he balked.

"I don’t need one," Hotch had said firmly, standing tall with that no-nonsense posture of his. “It’s a waste of resources.”

But Strauss was unmoved. "It’s already done, Aaron. She’ll start on Monday."

He felt like he'd lost before the battle had even begun. Hotch couldn't shake the sense that this was an unnecessary addition to his already perfectly functioning team. But Strauss was Strauss, and her word was law.

The team gathered in the bullpen that morning, curious about the new hire. Hotch had informed them earlier, his tone curt and business-like as usual. “She’s just here for administrative support,” he had said. “Nothing more.”

Morgan, leaning back in his chair, raised an eyebrow. "Bet she's someone Strauss sent to keep an eye on us," he joked.

JJ chuckled, but there was an undercurrent of anticipation among the team. New faces were always a point of interest, even in the most serious environments like the BAU.

The elevator doors slid open, and you stepped out, heels clicking softly on the floor. The conversations in the bullpen gradually quieted as you made your way towards Hotch’s office with a steady, assured walk.

You didn’t have the overt sex appeal of someone trying too hard. Instead, it was the way you carried yourself—your professional yet perfectly tailored outfit, your calm but confident posture, and the intelligent glint in your eyes—that caught their attention. Your aura spoke of someone who knew how to command a room, someone sharp, witty, and perhaps even a little mysterious.

"She’s... something," Morgan muttered under his breath, watching you with a grin.

"Wonder if she can keep up with Hotch," Garcia added with a playful smirk.

You reached Hotch’s office, giving the door a polite knock before stepping just inside. The faintest hint of a smile touched your lips, like you already knew what to expect.

"Mr. Hotchner?" Your voice was calm, professional, yet laced with just enough warmth to make him look up from his work.

He glanced up briefly, bracing himself for whatever distraction this was. "Hotch is fine," he replied, already setting his focus back on the file in front of him.

"Hotch, then," you echoed smoothly. The quickness of your response wasn’t flirtatious—it was simply sharp, quick-witted. You stepped fully into the office, no hesitation in your movements, and he took a second to measure you, noting that nothing about your manner felt frivolous.

"Y/N, your new secretary. But you probably already knew that," you said, standing with a straight posture, your gaze lingering just long enough to create the smallest tension in the air.

He nodded, clearly already trying to return his attention to the work on his desk. "Yes. Welcome."

You smirked slightly, sensing his resistance. "I’m here to make your life easier, Hotch. You’ll see."

It wasn’t a flirtatious comment, not in the usual sense. It was matter-of-fact, confident, and entirely unbothered by his lack of warmth. You weren’t intimidated, and that threw him off just enough to pause.

She doesn’t back down, Hotch thought, his fingers tightening just slightly on the papers in his hands. Most people hesitated, unsure of how to navigate his cool demeanor, but not you. You took it in stride, as if his distance wasn’t something to be overcome but just another part of him to understand. He wasn’t used to that.

There was a part of him that appreciated your confidence, your ability to handle things without needing constant direction. But there was also the part of him that felt something else—a pull, an attraction that was more than professional admiration. He couldn’t afford to entertain it, not here. Not with everything that was at stake. Yet, the more you settled into your role, the more difficult it became to ignore that nagging awareness of you, the way you never seemed rattled, no matter how he tried to maintain distance.

He was used to people being intimidated by him, especially new hires. But you? You weren’t phased in the least. Instead, there was a kind of ease about you that made him a little uneasy, though he’d never admit it.

With that, you left his office, and for the first time in a long while, Hotch found himself momentarily distracted, wondering just what kind of dynamic you were going to bring to his carefully controlled environment.

Aaron Hotchner liked things a certain way. He wasn’t unreasonable, but he valued precision and efficiency, especially in his professional life. His office was always meticulously organized, his schedule tightly managed, and his expectations of those who worked with him were crystal clear. So when Erin Strauss had informed him that you—his new secretary—would be joining the BAU, he had been prepared to explain exactly how he liked things done.

Except, you were already a step ahead of him. And that both intrigued and unsettled him.

Hotch stood behind his desk, hands resting on the back of his chair as you entered his office with a fresh stack of files. You were calm, collected, and that faint smile you always wore, the one that hinted at a quiet confidence, made him pause.

“I thought we could go over a few things,” he said, his voice steady and professional. “Just to make sure we’re on the same page about how I like things done.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in your eyes as you placed the files on his desk with an air of someone who already knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Sure thing, Hotch. Lay it on me,” you said, leaning against the edge of his desk, clearly at ease.

Hotch hesitated for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. He wasn’t used to this—someone who wasn’t fazed by his usual no-nonsense approach, someone who seemed completely comfortable in his presence. But he pressed on, his tone measured.

“I like everything to be organized by priority,” he began, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk. “Urgent case files go on the top left, and any paperwork requiring signatures should be grouped together. My schedule needs to be updated daily, and—”

Before he could finish, you cut in smoothly, nodding as if you were already familiar with every word. “Urgent on the top left, signatures grouped. Got it. And don’t worry, I’ve been updating your schedule daily since Monday. You’ve got a meeting with Strauss tomorrow at 10 a.m., by the way.”

Hotch blinked, caught off guard. “You’ve already... updated the schedule?”

You nodded, not missing a beat. “Of course. And I took the liberty of sorting through the files on your desk this morning. The reports you requested from Garcia are already at the top. You’ll find a few case notes under them that I flagged as potential priorities.”

For a moment, Hotch didn’t respond, his usual calm composure faltering just slightly as he processed what you’d said. He wasn’t used to someone anticipating his needs like this, certainly not after just a few days of working together. And while he was impressed—very impressed—he wasn’t quite ready to admit it.

“Efficient,” he finally said, his voice careful, but you could tell he was weighing his words. “More than I expected.”

You grinned, tilting your head slightly. “What, did you expect me to be a disaster?”

“Not at all,” he replied quickly, but you caught the smallest hint of a smile on his face, which only fueled your amusement.

“Well, I hate to disappoint,” you teased, stepping back from his desk, “but I tend to be pretty good at what I do. You’re just going to have to get used to it.”

Hotch’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, he felt that same unsettling sensation he had the first time you’d walked into his office—like you already knew him better than you should. And that both fascinated and unnerved him.

“I suppose I will,” he said quietly, his tone measured but with an undeniable undercurrent of admiration.

You smirked, sensing you had him right where you wanted him. “Don’t worry, Hotch. You’ll thank me eventually.”

He raised an eyebrow, his expression returning to that familiar composed exterior, but you could see the faintest flicker of something behind his eyes—something that told you he wasn’t as unaffected as he liked to appear.

“You seem very sure of yourself,” he remarked, folding his arms across his chest.

You grinned. “Confidence is key, right? Besides, I have a feeling I’ll be a good fit here.”

Hotch didn’t respond right away, his gaze still lingering on you as if trying to figure you out. You weren’t like anyone else he’d worked with before. There was something about your calm confidence, the way you seemed to know exactly how to push just the right buttons without overstepping. It was... refreshing. Though he’d never say that out loud.

Finally, he gave a small nod. “We’ll see,” he said, his voice softer now, almost thoughtful.

You chuckled, turning to leave his office. “Oh, I’m sure we will.”

As the day progressed, Hotch found himself more impressed with you than he cared to admit. Every task he’d mentioned—every detail, every instruction—you had already taken care of. Without being told. It wasn’t just your efficiency that caught his attention; it was the way you seemed to anticipate his needs, the way you handled everything with ease.

And the teasing? He found himself... enjoying it. More than he expected. You weren’t afraid to poke at him, to challenge him in small, subtle ways that made him pause and reevaluate the dynamics between you.

By the end of the day, as you prepared to leave, Hotch caught you on your way out, standing by his office door.

“Y/N,” he called, stopping you in your tracks.

You turned to face him, that same playful smile tugging at your lips. “What’s up, Hotch? Need something else done?”

He paused, then shook his head slightly, a rare smile threatening to surface. “No. Just... good work today.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Was that a compliment? From you?”

He chuckled softly under his breath. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

You grinned, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “Too late.”

As you turned to leave, Hotch couldn’t help but watch you go, still wondering how you had managed to slip past his defenses so effortlessly. You were different from anyone he had worked with before—confident, witty, and always one step ahead.

And though he wasn’t quite ready to admit it, Hotch knew he was impressed by you. More than he would ever let on.

Sitting back at his desk, Hotch allowed himself a rare moment of reflection. You’d been right: you had gotten under his skin. Not in a way that made him uncomfortable, but in a way that made him want to see where this new dynamic would lead. There was something about you that he couldn’t quite figure out—and maybe, for the first time in a long time, he was okay with that.

He glanced at the perfectly sorted stack of files on his desk and let out a soft sigh, knowing that working with you was going to be anything but predictable.

And for once, he didn’t mind that at all.

It didn’t take long for the team to notice the shift in the air. You were a natural conversationalist, quick on your feet with comebacks that were witty but never overtly crossed the line. Your presence was felt in the small ways—how you remembered little details about each of them, how you had a knack for lightening tense moments without being overbearing.

"I like her," Morgan said one afternoon after you had walked past, easily sliding a stack of paperwork into Hotch’s office without batting an eye.

Even Reid found himself smiling more when you were around, though you were relentless in teasing him, asking if his hair always did “that thing” on its own or if he had a special routine for it.

"She’s sharp," Reid added, intrigued by how quickly you seemed to pick up on the rhythms of the team.

"Too sharp, if you ask me," Garcia quipped, though her grin suggested she approved."She's like… intimidatingly hot," Garcia added, wide-eyed. "And those jokes? Even I blush."

JJ raised an eyebrow. "You think Hotch is... okay with her?"

Morgan laughed. "Oh, he’s pretending to be annoyed, but I bet he’s secretly amused."

And that was exactly the case. As much as Hotch tried to resist it, he found himself surprised by how often you caught him off-guard with your clever remarks. He wasn’t used to someone challenging him—not like this, in such subtle, intelligent ways.

But Hotch? He remained a fortress. He didn’t engage in your flirtation, not at first. He was polite, distant, keeping things strictly business even when you blatantly teased him about how serious he was.

“Do you ever smile?” you asked one afternoon, leaning over his desk again in that same casual-yet-familiar way.

“On occasion,” he responded coolly.

“Hmm. I’ll make it my mission to see that someday.”

He said nothing, though the corner of his mouth twitched—just a bit.

It was during a late-night case review when you knocked on his door and stepped inside, holding a cup of coffee. "I figured you could use this," you said, setting it down with a small smile.

“Thank you,” he said, eyes narrowing as he assessed you, trying to figure out what your game was.

“Careful,” you said, your tone light but teasing, “I might make you smile if you’re not too careful.”

For a second, his lips twitched, but he caught himself just in time. “I doubt that.”

“I love a challenge,” you responded without missing a beat, walking back to your desk with a slight grin.

And despite himself, Hotch found that he didn’t entirely mind the challenge either.

After a particularly long and grueling case, the team decided to go out for drinks to unwind. You, of course, joined without hesitation, slipping seamlessly into their social dynamic just as you had into their professional one.

As the drinks flowed, the conversation turned to you. Morgan, ever the instigator, leaned forward with a grin. "So, Y/N," he started, "you’ve been working with Hotch for a while now. What’s your take on him?"

You smirked, taking a sip of your drink before responding. "Hotch? He’s… everything."

The table quieted, and a few eyebrows shot up.

"Everything?" JJ asked, a smile tugging at her lips. "Care to elaborate?"

You shrugged, your tone playful but sincere. "I mean, he’s intelligent, strong, capable… and really attractive."

Garcia let out a small gasp, her eyes widening. "Wait—Hotch? You’re into Hotch?"

"How could I not be?" you laughed, setting your glass down with a casual ease. "He’s literally my dream man. Hot, smart, and way more fascinating than most people give him credit for."

Rossi, who had been quietly nursing his drink, raised an eyebrow. "Dream man, huh? I didn’t see that coming."

Morgan leaned back, clearly enjoying this turn of events. "You’ve got it bad, girl."

You smirked at him, completely unbothered by their teasing. "I’m just honest."

Emily, intrigued by your boldness, laughed. "I gotta admit, I didn’t peg you for a Hotch fan either."

"Oh my God," Garcia whispered dramatically, eyes wide. "Does Hotch even know?"

You rolled your eyes with a grin. "I mean, he will."

The table erupted into laughter, the team clearly amused by your boldness. Morgan, however, wasn’t done teasing. "You’re telling me if Hotch were sitting right here, you’d tell him to his face?"

Without missing a beat, you raised an eyebrow. "Absolutely."

And as if the universe had a sense of humor, Hotch, who had been at the bar talking to the bartender, chose that exact moment to return, taking a seat next to you.

"Tell me what to my face?" he asked, his voice low and curious as he glanced around the table.

You didn’t even blink. Turning to him, you smiled. "That I think you’re the hottest, smartest man in the room."

The entire table fell into a stunned silence. Even Morgan, who had been leading the teasing, looked impressed.

Hotch, however, raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard. He wasn’t used to being the subject of such straightforward comments, especially not in front of the entire team. There was a beat of silence, and in that moment, Hotch felt the weight of their eyes on him. Normally, he would brush off a comment like this, keep things professional, deflect the attention. But something about the way you said it—so casual, so unapologetic—left him uncharacteristically rattled.

She can’t be serious, he thought, though there was no mistaking the sincerity in your tone. For the briefest second, his mind raced—how could someone as confident, as intelligent, as you be interested in him? He was used to being admired for his work ethic, his leadership, but this was something different. Something personal.

The idea of being seen in that way, especially by you, was both unexpected and, if he were honest with himself, a little thrilling. But he couldn’t afford to let it show. Not here. Not in front of the team. So he did what he always did—he kept his face neutral, his words careful, even as his heart beat just a little faster than before.

"You’re serious?" he asked, his tone careful, as though he were waiting for the punchline.

You smiled, unwavering. "Very."

There was a beat of silence, the tension palpable, but not uncomfortable. Finally, Hotch’s lips curved into the slightest of smiles, something rare for him. "I see."

Morgan burst into laughter, clapping his hands together. "Well, damn, Hotch! I think she’s got you beat."

Garcia, still wide-eyed, leaned forward, her voice a loud whisper. "Do you like… like him?"

You turned to her, grin still intact. "Yes, Penelope, I do. I have good taste."

Hotch sat quietly beside you, a bit overwhelmed but also… intrigued. You weren’t like anyone he’d ever worked with before. You were confident, intelligent, and you clearly didn’t care about anyone’s opinions. You liked him, and you weren’t afraid to say it.

Reid changed the subject, without even realizing so, but Hotch’s mind was still on your comments.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I think it’s time I head out," he said, standing and adjusting his suit jacket. His eyes lingered on you for just a moment longer than necessary. "Goodnight, everyone."

As Hotch walked away, the table erupted into more laughter, but you sat back, utterly unphased. You knew it wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

The next day, Garcia wasted no time in rushing into Hotch’s office with her usual enthusiasm.

"Hotch, I can’t believe you just walked away last night!" she exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief.

Hotch looked up from his paperwork, raising an eyebrow. "Walked away from what, exactly?"

Garcia huffed, placing her hands on her hips, her bright and colorful outfit a stark contrast to Hotch’s meticulously organized office. “Oh, don’t play dumb, Hotch. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Hotch leaned back in his chair, his expression unchanging but his curiosity piqued. “Enlighten me.”

Garcia dramatically threw herself into one of the chairs in front of his desk, eyes wide and voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Y/N! Last night! She said you’re the hottest, smartest man in the room, and you just walked away like it was nothing! Do you realize how monumental that was?”

Hotch fought back the smallest of smiles, keeping his voice even. “I recall the conversation. I didn’t think it required a response in front of the team.”

Garcia stared at him, dumbfounded. “Aaron. You have to be kidding me. Do you know how many women would say something like that to your face? And in front of everyone? She practically handed you the keys to a brand new chapter of life, and you walked away!”

Hotch let out a slow breath, shaking his head slightly. “It’s not that simple, Garcia.”

“Oh, but it is that simple!” she shot back, leaning forward. “I’ve seen a lot of things in my time here, but never in a million years would I have thought someone would be so bold with you—and that you’d find it amusing! You didn’t even try to hide it.”

Hotch paused, letting her words sink in. Garcia was right, in a way. You were different. You didn’t play the games others did, and your boldness wasn’t born of carelessness—it was confidence, intelligence. And that intrigued him more than he had admitted, even to himself.

Still, he shook his head. “We work together, Garcia. I can’t cross that line.”

Garcia rolled her eyes. “Please. If there’s anyone who could handle both a professional and personal relationship, it’s you two. You’re like... two perfectly matched puzzle pieces, and I never say that about people who work here.”

Hotch glanced at the door for a moment, thinking. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t replayed the conversation from last night in his head. The way you had so confidently and calmly told him exactly what you thought—right in front of the entire team. It had thrown him off, but in a good way. A way he wasn’t entirely used to.

“I’ll handle it,” he said after a long pause, looking back at Garcia.

Her eyes lit up. “Handle it? Do you mean like actually do something about it? Because if you don’t, she will! I mean, the girl literally told you she thinks you’re the best man in the room. Hotch, you have to act!”

He gave her a look. “I said I’ll handle it.”

Garcia stood, grinning as she made her way to the door. “You better, or I’ll handle it for you. And trust me, you don’t want that.”

As she left, Hotch allowed himself a moment to sit back and think. Garcia wasn’t wrong. If he didn’t make a move, you likely would. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t mind that idea. Maybe, for once, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to let someone else take the lead.

You were at your desk, typing away when Hotch’s office door opened. You glanced up to find him standing there; his usual composed expression softened just a fraction.

“Y/N, do you have a minute?” he asked, his voice steady.

“Of course,” you replied, standing up and following him into his office, your curiosity piqued by the sudden request.

He closed the door behind you, the soft click of the latch making the room feel smaller, more intimate. You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms casually as you stood in front of his desk.

“What’s up, Hotch?” you asked, your tone light but aware that something was brewing beneath the surface.

He didn’t immediately sit down, instead remaining on his feet as he faced you. “About last night—”

You smirked, cutting him off. “You mean the part where I told you you’re the hottest, smartest man in the room?”

Hotch’s lips twitched, the smallest hint of amusement flashing across his face. “That part, yes.”

You tilted your head, waiting for him to continue.

“I wanted to make sure you understand that... while I appreciate your honesty, there are boundaries we need to maintain at work,” he said, his tone even but not dismissive.

Your smirk softened into a more thoughtful expression. “I’m aware. But if I remember correctly, I wasn’t exactly talking at work.”

He paused, clearly considering your point. “That’s true,” he conceded.

“Hotch,” you began, stepping a little closer, your voice lowering just a fraction, “I’m not here to make your life more complicated. But I’m not one to pretend either. You’re smart, and I know you’ve noticed the way we work together, the way we... get along.”

He didn’t respond right away, his dark eyes studying you intently. You had always been direct, and it was something he respected, but now, standing so close, it was more than just a professional admiration. It was something deeper, something that had been brewing for weeks, if not longer.

“I have,” he admitted, his voice softer now, almost contemplative.

“So what are you going to do about it?” you asked, your tone teasing, but there was an underlying sincerity in your question.

Hotch took a deep breath, his eyes still locked on yours. For a moment, the air between you seemed to thicken, the unspoken tension finally surfacing.

“I’ll figure something out,” he said, his tone more gentle than you had ever heard from him before.

You smiled, stepping back just enough to give him space. “I’ll be waiting.”

With that, you turned and left his office, leaving Hotch standing there, wondering just when he had started to consider the possibility of more.

The days after your conversation with Hotch carried on much like before: cases, paperwork, and the steady hum of the BAU. But now, there was an unmistakable tension between you and Hotch, a thread pulling tighter with each passing day. It wasn’t uncomfortable; in fact, it was almost... fun.

You enjoyed testing the limits of his calm exterior, watching for the slightest crack in his composed demeanor. Though Hotch stayed focused, that flicker of amusement in his eyes gave him away.

The rest of the team noticed, too, particularly Morgan and Garcia. Morgan would occasionally shoot Hotch a sly look, silently encouraging him to do something about the growing tension. Garcia, meanwhile, gave you conspiratorial smiles, her curiosity clearly piqued by whatever she suspected was brewing between the two of you.

One afternoon, you couldn’t help yourself. You wandered into Hotch’s office under the guise of bringing him some updated case files. You knocked lightly, then stepped inside before he could respond, a habit you’d developed over the past few weeks.

Hotch barely looked up from his paperwork as you entered, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Y/N,” he acknowledged, his tone calm but not dismissive.

He knew it wasn’t just the paperwork that had him distracted—it was you. You’d been working at the BAU for a short time, but you had already managed to throw him off his usual rhythm. He wasn’t used to this—feeling something more than just professional respect for someone in the office. It unsettled him.

He told himself that it wasn’t anything serious, that he could keep it under control, but whenever you were in the room, there was an awareness that lingered—something beyond the simple back-and-forth of a working relationship. He glanced up briefly, bracing himself for the easy confidence in your expression that always made him feel like you saw more than you let on.

“What do you need?” he asked, trying to keep his focus steady. He couldn’t afford distractions. Not now.

“Oh, nothing urgent,” you said, your voice light as you placed the files on the corner of his desk. “Just thought you might like a little company. You’ve been holed up in here for hours. Starting to wonder if you’re avoiding me.”

He glanced up, his dark eyes meeting yours briefly before returning to the document in front of him. “I’m not avoiding you,” he said evenly. “Just busy.”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, stepping closer, leaning against his desk. “You say that, but I’m starting to think you’re avoiding me because I might be distracting you. Don’t worry, Hotch, I won’t take it personally.”

His eyes flicked up to yours again, this time lingering a little longer. “You’re not distracting me,” he replied, but there was the faintest trace of amusement in his voice.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You sure? I mean, I wouldn’t blame you if I was. It’s kind of my specialty.”

Hotch set his pen down, finally leaning back in his chair, giving you his full attention. “Your specialty?” he asked, a hint of curiosity creeping into his voice. “And what exactly does that entail?”

You smiled, leaning in just slightly. “I’m good at getting under people’s skin... in a good way.”

His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile threatening to appear. “I’m not so easily rattled,” he said, his tone challenging.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you replied, your voice soft but teasing. “I’ve noticed that you seem a little... different lately. Less of that ‘stoic FBI boss’ thing you’ve got going on. Could be me, though.” You tilted your head, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Hotch didn’t respond right away, his gaze steady, his expression unreadable. But you could see the faintest crack in his armor—just enough to know you were getting to him.

“I think you overestimate your influence,” he said finally, though the amusement in his tone betrayed him.

You smiled wider, clearly enjoying the challenge. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just underestimating how much fun I’m having seeing if I can make you crack.”

Hotch leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, his eyes locked on yours with that intense focus he was known for. “You think I’m going to crack?”

You shrugged, unphased by his scrutiny. “Everyone has a breaking point, Hotch. Even you.”

He didn’t answer, but the way his eyes held yours for just a second too long told you everything you needed to know. You were getting to him, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Before the silence could stretch too far, you stood up straight, backing away just a little. “I’ll let you get back to your very important paperwork. Wouldn’t want to be the one responsible for you losing focus,” you said with a smirk.

“Appreciated,” Hotch replied, his voice low and controlled, but there was a new glint in his eyes. “I’m sure I can handle it.”

You gave him a playful wink before turning on your heel and walking out, leaving him sitting there, slightly amused but clearly rattled—just as you intended.

The tension between you and Hotch continued to simmer, but now, it was more playful than before. You took every opportunity to poke at him, using your wit and quick remarks to see how far you could push before he finally let something slip.

One day, you were both in the conference room, going over some reports. The rest of the team was out in the bullpen, busy with their own tasks, but you and Hotch were alone.

“Looks like we’ve got a lot of paperwork to get through,” you said, flipping through a stack of files. “You really should invest in a better system. Maybe hire a secretary... oh wait, that’s me.”

Hotch glanced at you, his expression neutral, though you could see the faintest glint of humor in his eyes. “You’re doing a fine job. No need to hire anyone else.”

You smirked. “Fine job, huh? Just fine?”

He didn’t bite, instead focusing on the papers in front of him. “You’re very efficient.”

You leaned a little closer, lowering your voice just slightly. “Efficient? That’s the best you’ve got? I’ve been called a lot of things in my time, but efficient doesn’t exactly scream ‘compliment.’”

Hotch finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. “What would you prefer?”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully, pretending to consider the question. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something a little more... creative? Stunning? Irreplaceable?”

His lips quirked in what could have been a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Satisfied with your small victory, you leaned back, crossing your arms with a satisfied grin. “Good. I’d hate for you to hold back on my account.”

Before Hotch could respond, Morgan walked into the room, interrupting the moment. “Hey, Hotch, we’ve got a lead on the case. You ready?”

Hotch stood up, giving you one last glance before nodding. “Let’s go.”

You watched as they left, that familiar flutter in your stomach returning. You’d been teasing him relentlessly, but the way Hotch handled it only made you more intrigued. He never gave too much away, but there were moments, small cracks in his usual control, that told you you were getting under his skin in the best possible way.

By the time Friday rolled around, the team decided to go out for drinks again, needing a break from the stress of the week. You joined them, of course, slipping into your usual spot at the bar. As always, the conversation flowed easily, the team laughing and unwinding together.

But you couldn’t help but notice Hotch, sitting across from you, his attention shifting your way every so often. He wasn’t as reserved as he’d been in the past, and you found yourself wondering just how much further you could push him.

“You’ve been quiet tonight, Hotch,” you said, leaning forward slightly. “Something on your mind?”

He glanced at you, a small, unreadable smile on his lips. “Just thinking.”

“About me, maybe?” you teased, your voice light but with an edge of curiosity.

Hotch’s eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his gaze—something you couldn’t quite read. But instead of answering, he just took a sip of his drink, letting the silence linger.

“Careful, Hotch,” you said with a smirk. “You’re starting to look like you’re actually enjoying yourself.”

His lips quirked again, but this time, he didn’t deny it. “Maybe I am.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you leaned back in your chair, satisfied that you had gotten another small victory. This was becoming a game—one you were both enjoying far more than you’d anticipated.

And you had a feeling that sooner or later, Hotch was going to make his move.

The conversation shifted as drinks were passed around, laughter bubbling up among the team. You found yourself in easy conversation with Morgan and Prentiss, but every now and then, your eyes would drift back to Hotch, catching him watching you in those quiet moments between interactions.

It wasn’t long before Garcia, after a few drinks, leaned over the table toward you with a wide grin.

“Okay, Y/N, let’s get back to the real topic,” she began, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What’s your move with Hotch?”

You raised an eyebrow, amused by her boldness. “My move?” you asked, though you already knew where she was going.

Emily grinned, leaning in as well. “Oh, come on, you basically laid it all out there last time we went out. Now the question is, what happens next?”

You laughed, feeling the team’s eyes on you, and shrugged, completely at ease. “I think we’ll let Hotch decide that,” you said, glancing at him from across the table.

Morgan smirked. “You’re telling me you’re just gonna wait for Hotch to make the move? You know he’s not exactly the type to—”

“To what?” Hotch interrupted, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement as he joined the conversation, eyes now fully on you.

Morgan chuckled. “I was just saying that you’re not exactly the type to, you know, make a move in these situations.”

The table erupted in quiet laughter, everyone clearly enjoying the banter. But Hotch, ever composed, leaned back in his seat and looked at you, his expression soft but serious.

“Maybe I surprise people sometimes,” Hotch said, his voice low enough that only you could hear it over the chatter.

Your eyes locked with his, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade. You could tell there was something unspoken in his words, something that hinted at more than just a challenge. Your heart raced, but you kept your composure, offering him a small, knowing smile.

Before anyone could say more, Hotch stood up, drawing the attention of the team. “I think it’s time I head out,” he said, his gaze briefly lingering on you.

Morgan raised his glass. “Always leaving early, boss man.”

Hotch gave him a small, amused nod before glancing back at you. “Y/N, do you mind giving me a ride back to the office? I left my car there.”

There was no hesitation in your response. “Sure.”

The team exchanged knowing glances as you both said your goodbyes, and once outside the bar, the cool evening air hit your skin, but the tension between you and Hotch kept the night warm. The car ride back to the office was filled with comfortable silence, the kind that spoke more than words ever could.

You pulled up to the BAU parking lot, the building mostly dark except for the faint glow of a few security lights. Hotch turned to you as you cut the engine, his eyes reflecting the low light.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice softer than usual.

“No problem,” you replied, sensing that something more was on the tip of his tongue.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you thick with the unresolved tension from weeks of lingering looks and quiet conversations. Finally, Hotch broke the silence, his voice steady but laced with something deeper.

“Y/N, about everything you’ve said—about me,” he began, his eyes holding yours. “I didn’t respond the way I should have before. I wasn’t sure how to navigate it, but... I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

You tilted your head, intrigued but calm. “And now?”

Hotch paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Now, I think I’ve decided.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he leaned in just slightly, his gaze never wavering from yours. “I’ve spent a long time keeping things... separate,” he said, his voice lower, more intimate. “But I don’t want to ignore what’s in front of me anymore.”

You smiled, feeling the weight of his words sink in. “So you’re saying you do make the move sometimes?”

A rare smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Maybe I just needed the right person to make me want to.”

And with that, Hotch closed the small gap between you, his hand reaching out to lightly brush your arm. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t impulsive. It was deliberate, intentional, and filled with the promise of something more. When his lips finally met yours, it was soft but firm, like everything you had been waiting for had just clicked into place.

Pulling back just slightly, he looked at you, the usual intensity in his eyes now tempered with something new. “Dinner next week?”

You grinned. “I’ll be waiting.”

And as he stepped out of the car, you couldn’t help but feel that the boundaries between you had finally shifted in the best possible way.

Hotch had always been the kind of man who liked things done a certain way—organized, thoughtful, and maybe a bit old-fashioned. So, when he offered to pick you up for your date, you couldn’t help but tease him a little.

“I could’ve driven myself, you know,” you said with a playful smile as you slipped into the passenger seat of his black SUV.

Hotch, ever composed, shot you a small glance. “I like to do things properly.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Properly? What, are you going to ask my father for permission, too?”

He smirked—just the barest hint of amusement playing at his lips. “I considered it.”

You let out a laugh, settling into the seat. “Old-fashioned, huh? I didn’t peg you as the type, Hotch.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a little tradition,” he replied, his eyes focused on the road, though you could see a glint of humor in them.

You leaned back in your seat, your voice teasing. “No complaints from me. But don’t expect me to be swooning over your chivalry.”

He chuckled under his breath, surprising you. It wasn’t often you heard him laugh, and when it did happen, it was always low, quiet—like a secret only a few were privileged to hear.

“Noted,” he said simply, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely unamused by your teasing. And that made you all the more curious to see how far you could push him tonight.

Dinner was a surprising success. You’d expected Hotch to be his usual composed self, always in control of the situation, but as the evening progressed, you realized there was more to him than the stoic leader you were used to seeing at work. He wasn’t exactly playful, but there was a dry wit to him, a subtle humor that came out when he was relaxed. And tonight, for the first time, you saw that side of him more clearly.

“Admit it,” you said, leaning forward slightly as the waiter refilled your wine glasses. “You’ve been looking forward to this.”

Hotch tilted his head, his eyes meeting yours. “I won’t deny that.”

He surprised himself with the honesty of his response. Normally, he wouldn’t have indulged in something so personal, especially not during a conversation with a colleague. But this wasn’t the office. Here, under the dim lights of the restaurant, it was different. He was different.

He watched as you smirked, your chin resting in your hand, completely at ease. You had this way of disarming him with a simple look, a shift in your tone that made him feel more like a person and less like the always-in-control Unit Chief he was used to being. It was unsettling how quickly you’d managed to make him lower his guard, even for a moment.

How long has it been since I’ve felt like this? The thought crept up on him, unbidden. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone made him forget about the weight of his responsibilities, even if just for an evening. There was something easy about being around you, something he hadn’t expected but found himself wanting more of, even if he couldn’t quite admit it to himself yet.

You smirked, resting your chin in your hand. “See, you can be fun.”

“I’m not as rigid as you think,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, I know,” you teased. “You’re just selective about when you let it show.”

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze steady and thoughtful, and for a moment, you felt the familiar tension between you—the same pull that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks. But just as you opened your mouth to speak again, Hotch’s phone buzzed on the table.

The moment the sound broke through, you both knew what it meant. A case.

As you laughed together over the last few sips of wine, the soft clinking of glasses and the gentle hum of conversation around you made the world feel smaller, more intimate. Hotch’s eyes lingered on you a little longer, and you could sense that rare ease in his posture, a subtle but meaningful shift away from the controlled, composed man you were used to seeing in the office.

But then, his phone buzzed against the table, shattering the moment like a pebble hitting calm water. Hotch’s hand paused before picking it up, his gaze briefly flickering with something close to regret. He already knew what it was. So did you.

As he glanced at the screen, you saw the professional mask slip back into place, the rare vulnerability gone in an instant. His shoulders straightened, his jaw set, and that familiar intensity returned.

"It’s from Garcia," he said quietly, the warmth from moments before replaced by the familiar seriousness of a case.

For a second, he didn’t say anything further, his eyes resting on the screen as if weighing the decision to cut the evening short. His lips pressed into a thin line, betraying the disappointment he wouldn’t voice. Finally, he glanced up at you, offering an apologetic smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"I’m sorry," he said, his voice quieter now, as if reluctant to pull himself away from the moment.

You leaned back in your chair, letting out a soft sigh. "Comes with the territory, right?" you replied, understanding but equally disappointed.

By the time the two of you arrived at the BAU, the rest of the team was already gathered in the bullpen, their eyes immediately locking onto you and Hotch as you walked in together. You were still dressed in your dinner attire, and Hotch, though composed, looked far more relaxed than he usually did when coming into the office. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on.

Morgan, always quick to jump on any chance for teasing, grinned widely the moment you entered. “Well, well, well,” he said, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “What have we here?”

Garcia, who had been standing by her computer, gasped dramatically. “No way! You two were on a date?!” she exclaimed, her eyes darting between you and Hotch like she’d just uncovered the juiciest gossip.

Reid, looking slightly bewildered but intrigued, glanced at Hotch. “Really?”

You, completely unbothered by the attention, flashed a smile as you walked over to the table, pulling your jacket off and tossing it over a chair. “Surprised? I thought you all were more observant than that.”

Morgan laughed, clearly enjoying the moment. “We had our suspicions. But I gotta say, seeing Hotch in date mode? Didn’t think it was possible.”

Emily, who had been watching with a sly smile, leaned in. “How’s he doing? All proper and stiff like usual?”

You grinned at Hotch, who was standing behind you, his expression calm but not quite unreadable. “Oh, he’s very proper,” you said, your voice laced with playful sarcasm. “He even picked me up. Very chivalrous.”

The team burst into laughter at that, and even Hotch, though stoic, didn’t seem fazed by the teasing. If anything, there was a trace of amusement in his eyes as he stood there, clearly aware that he was the center of the joke.

Garcia leaned forward, her eyes widening with curiosity. “Wait, hold on. Hotch on a date? This is... rare,” she said, her tone full of intrigue but tempered with playful restraint. “I mean, I’ve heard of such things, but to witness it—wow.”

Hotch shook his head slightly, though the corner of his mouth tugged upward. “It’s not as monumental as you’re making it sound,” he said with a small, almost sheepish smile, something barely noticeable but present.

You laughed, leaning against the table. “Sorry, Hotch. I think you’re stuck with this one for a while.”

Morgan grinned, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, I don’t think she’s going to let you off the hook that easily. But I’ve got to say,” he added, glancing between you and Hotch, “I haven’t seen the man this... relaxed in a long time.”

Garcia smiled softly, her usual energy settling into something more genuine. “It suits you, Hotch,” she said with a wink, but there was warmth in her words, not just her usual excitement.

You shot Hotch a quick look, a playful grin tugging at your lips. “See? I told you I was good at getting under people’s skin.”

Hotch gave you a sideways glance, but the hint of a smile on his face didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team. “So I’ve noticed.”

Despite the teasing, the team eventually settled into their professional rhythm, focusing on the case at hand. Hotch shifted back into his role as Unit Chief seamlessly—his tone authoritative, his posture all business. But even as he directed the team, catching glimpses of you across the room, there was something new in the air between you, something that didn’t quite fit within the professional boundaries you’d both carefully maintained up until now.

Every now and then, you’d catch him glancing your way, his expression softening for just a moment before he returned to the task at hand. It didn’t go unnoticed by you. In fact, you could feel it—the subtle pull between you two, something the team had picked up on too.

You weren’t embarrassed about how the night had unfolded. Not even a little. You’d owned your feelings, and seeing Hotch standing there, the team playfully ribbing you both, only made you more certain of what was between you. If anything, it was fun. It felt natural. But as the case wore on and the work consumed everyone, the playful teasing fell away, leaving just you and Hotch standing side by side, reviewing files as you discussed the finer points of the profile.

At some point, Hotch’s shoulder brushed against yours, and it sent a spark through you—small but undeniable. The room was buzzing with the usual energy of the BAU at work, but between you and Hotch, there was a quiet that felt intimate, even in the middle of the chaos.

“You okay with how that all played out?” you asked quietly, keeping your voice low enough that only he could hear.

Hotch’s eyes met yours, his expression unreadable for a brief moment before he nodded. “It’s fine.”

You hesitated, sensing there was more beneath his calm exterior. Leaning in just a little, you lowered your voice even more, pushing a little, like you always did with him. “You sure? You’re not embarrassed?”

Hotch turned to face you more fully, his dark eyes steady as they met yours again. “Not at all,” he said, his voice soft but sure.

You studied him for a second, feeling that familiar spark of curiosity. “I can be a lot sometimes,” you admitted, your tone lighter now but with a genuine edge. “I know I get under your skin. And I’ve noticed you try to keep things professional, but... am I too much for you?”

His brow furrowed slightly as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. He stepped just a fraction closer, his tone serious but gentle. “You’re not too much,” he said quietly, his eyes searching yours. “It’s not that. I’m just... not used to it.”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a little bold. “Not used to what? Someone poking at your stoic FBI boss exterior?”

He let out a low chuckle, the sound almost surprising. “That, yes. But it’s more than that,” he said, his gaze softening as he spoke. “I’m not used to someone like you. Confident, brazen, and... beautiful.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Coming from Aaron Hotchner, they felt weightier than any compliment you’d ever received before. “You really think I’m all that?” you teased, though your voice was softer now, the playfulness balanced by something more vulnerable.

Hotch gave you a small smile, the kind that was so rare for him but meant so much. “I do.”

For a moment, you didn’t speak. You just stood there, his words hanging between you, the tension both professional and personal at once. You’d been used to teasing him, pushing his buttons, testing the boundaries. But this? This was different. This was real.

“Good,” you said finally, a smirk tugging at your lips as you regained your playful tone. “Because I plan on teasing you about this for weeks.”

Hotch shook his head, amused. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

You were about to respond when Morgan walked past, flashing a grin. “Are you two done having your little moment? We’ve got a case to solve.”

Hotch straightened, his professional demeanor snapping back into place, though you could still see the warmth in his eyes when he glanced at you. “Let’s get back to work.”

But even as you returned to the task at hand, there was no mistaking that something had shifted between you. The teasing, the banter, the sparks you’d been playing with for weeks—all of it had led to this. And you knew, even as you both focused on the case, that the connection between you wasn’t something that would just go away.

As the night stretched on, you worked side by side, the teasing and laughter from earlier fading into the background. But every now and then, when the room was quieter and the rest of the team was occupied, Hotch would glance at you again, and in those moments, you saw it—the acknowledgment of what was growing between you.

This wasn’t just another playful exchange, another round of banter. This was real. And as much as Hotch was still the consummate professional, always in control, you could tell he wasn’t uncomfortable or embarrassed. Not by you, not by what was happening. He was simply adjusting, learning how to navigate something new.

When the case was finally wrapped up, and everyone began to head home, you found yourself standing in the BAU’s dimly lit office with Hotch once again. The others had gone, leaving just the two of you alone in the quiet.

“Well,” you said, folding your arms with a grin, “we never got to finish that date.”

Hotch, still composed, gave you a small smile. “I’ll make it up to you.”

You tilted your head, teasing. “You better. I don’t usually let guys off the hook that easily.”

He chuckled softly, the sound making your heart skip again. “I’m not letting myself off the hook.”

You took a step closer, your voice lowering just slightly. “Good. Because I don’t plan on letting you go that easy either.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the night hanging in the air. And then, in a gesture that felt natural, Hotch reached out, his hand brushing yours before gently intertwining his fingers with yours.

“I’ll pick you up again tomorrow,” he said quietly, his eyes warm.

You smiled, giving his hand a light squeeze.“Old-fashioned, I remember.”

He smiled back, his tone soft but full of promise. “I think it’s growing on you.”

And with that, you both turned to leave, the knowledge that this—whatever it was—was just beginning.

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @khxna @rousethemouse

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #kiwriteswords #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch x reader

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woso-dreamzzz · 6 months ago

Text

Leaving IV

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Alexia takes you on holiday

The first time Alba and Alexia went on holiday with each other was when Alexia turned eighteen.

Suddenly, she had independence and some adult money to blow on frivolous things so she took Alba to Ibiza with her.

You got left at home because you were still very little and going to the beach and tanning was not something you enjoyed.

Instead, with both of your sisters in Ibiza, Mama took you to the beach near the house and you did fun things like building a sandcastle and eating your weight in ice cream.

Mama made a weekend of it and you were certain you had a much more fun time than Alba and Alexia did. You couldn't imagine laying in the sun and sleeping the day away with fruity drinks could be much fun or, at least when you were younger you couldn't imagine it being fun.

Now though, as a teenager that was also an athlete, you enjoyed you sleep. Naps were an important part of your routine. You came home from school and napped before getting up to go to your training. Then you would come home and nap until dinner.

It was good routine. You liked your routine.

You didn't like having it interrupted at three in the morning by Alba shaking you awake.

You blindly bat a hand at her. "Go away." You roll over onto your front and bury your head in the pillow. "Five more minutes."

"You'd already said that," She says," Come on, get up."

"No."

"If you don't get up now then Alexia will be up with a bucket of water. Then you'll have to get up and change your sheets. Come on, up!"

You groan loudly, muffled by your pillow before forcing yourself up.

The only reason you agreed to going on Alexia and Alba's sister holiday was because you thought you could relax. But, with Alexia in charge, you should have known that would never be the case.

She'd booked the flight for six forty-five leading to this three in the morning wake-up call so you dragged yourself out of your body and changed into some plane comfortable clothing.

It was barely an hour's flight from Barcelona to Mallorca so you've no idea why Alexia insisted on the stupidly early flight.

Either way, you drag your suitcase down the stairs and flip your hood up in an attempt to show your protest at the early morning wake-up call.

Alexia pulls it straight back down.

You flip it up again.

She pulls it down again.

You reach to put it up. Alexia's stern look stops you.

You kick her in the shin.

"You kick like a baby," She says, sticking her tongue out.

"I'm going to bite you."

"Ah," Alba says wistfully, throwing her arms around each of you," Just like old times!"

Alexia grins and ruffles your hair. You pretend to be annoyed.

You manage to have a small nap on her shoulder on the flight over and then get rudely awakened by her shaking you.

The villa is nice though and it's even nicer when you remember Alexia is paying for absolutely everything.

The house has a pool and a shady spot for naps and a big inflatable sword that you're going to use to smack Alba when she annoys you. It's near the beach and is only a ten-minute walk or so into town.

All in all, you're actually quite happy to be on this trip with your older sisters, even though Alba shoves past you to claim the room you wanted as her own.

The sun is nice and hot and you close your eyes for your midday nap as Alba floats around in the pool and Alexia paces around on the phone to her girlfriend.

It's nice and peaceful and sleep comes easy to you.

You don't know how long you've been sleeping by the time Alexia wakes you up by squirting cold sun cream onto your back.

You shriek, flinching away but her strong hands follow you and you can feel her rubbing it in.

"Ale," You whine," I don't need any."

"You do," She insists, working it more furiously into your skin," I got the strongest I can find."

"But then I won't tan!"

"Good. Tanning can cause skin cancer."

"You tan!"

"I don't have delicate baby skin," Alexia says and you turn your head back to look at her in disbelief," Skin cancer is scared of me."

From the sunbed next to you, Alba scoffs. Her face is covered in sun cream that hasn't been rubbed in yet. Clearly, she was Alexia's first victim.

"I don't have delicate baby skin!" You insist.

"Yes, you do." Alexia bats your arms away. "Mama made me promise to make sure you two wore your sun cream which means no tanning oil and no fighting me on it! I'm the oldest. I'm in charge!"

"You can't be in charge of me," Alba says," I'm an adult."

Alexia thinks for a moment before nodding. She prods you in the pack. "You're a baby so I'm in charge of you."

You groan. "This is so unfair!"

"Life's unfair," Alexia says impassively," Now, stay still. I might have missed a spot."

You're pretty sure she dumped the whole bottle on you.

Alexia's a hoverer. She always has been and she always will be.

Her arm is slung around your shoulders as you make your way down the street to find some food. She's insisted on getting you a big floppy hat to protect your face even though she's completely drowned it in sun cream.

"I'm kind of craving seafood," Alba says," Seafood and pasta."

You nod. "I want pasta too."

Alexia nods along. "Pasta sounds good."

"I want dessert as well," You continue.

"That's such a good idea!" Alba agrees quickly," I could kill for some warm cookie dough right now."

You nearly drool at the thought. "With whipped cream."

"And caramel sauce!"

Alba grabs your hand, pulling you out of the security of Alexia's arm and starts sprinting down the street, to where all the restaurants have lined up their menus for the night.

You allow yourself to be dragged, easily keeping pace with her.

You turn to look behind you. "Ale, come on!"

Alexia catches up in record time, grabbing your other hand.

"Seafood, pasta and cookie dough," She laughs," I want dough balls too."

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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just-some-random-blogger · 5 months ago

Text

Seeing Green

Gwayne had enough of you and declared he would not be accompanying you on your travels to the town ever again. How glad you were to know Harwin would in his stead.

bodyguard!Gwayne Hightower x Lannister!Reader x Harwin Strong | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, enemies to lovers, forced proximity ig, im just a girl!reader, angst?, jealousy, typos, etc.

A/N: this is a p2 to seeing red but you dont have to read it to understand whats happening. I have made a next part!

Tagging: @lancedoncrimsonwings @targs-on-zorses @barbieaemond @arabellasleopardcoat

"GWAYNE!" I stick my head out of the carriage window. I scoff as I watch the armored man walk off, "you can not be serious!"

"Serious?!" he snaps, turning back to me with a raised brow and a tense jaw. He rubs his lips as he storms back towards me. His glare is so grave that I actually lean back into my seat and clench my skirt.

Gwayne stomps his foot on one of the steps up the carriage. A line forms between his brows, "you have WORN me!"

I grow tense as flails his hand around.

"I have done nothing but exact your cumbersome and frivolous commands with patience!" He snaps, "and now that I've met my limit yet you have the gall to ask me if I am being serious!?!"

Gwayne's eyes are wide and clearer than the skies. His pointed stare is piercing and I cannot deflect it as he speaks to me of my unreasonableness. Admittedly, my requests were some meant to annoy him, but I did not expect him to act so acridly. I mean, surely he was accustomed to it by now. Was I truly becoming too much to bear for him?

His face is flushed with rage. I stare at him, unable to speak, for in truth I did not know how to meet his apparently genuine frustration.

"Oh," he scoffs, chuckles bubbling out his throat, "she does not speak, for there is nothing else true to say." He grips the carriage door, "what? Have you realized you do work me worse than your own employed servants? That you ask of me more than what I am required of?"

"But it is my right!" I pipe up, though my voice is still small, "you must accompany me wherever I so wander."

Gwayne's jaw feathers, "I am tasked to protect you from peril and to prevent you from doing the unwise," he steps back, "not to carry your clothes and hang them in your wardrobes!"

I stare at him, dread building in my stomach.

"What?!" he quips, "do you truly not see the brunt of my frustrations?"

"... I do not think it unreasonable to-" I gaps when he closes the door with unnecessary force before storming away.

In truth, the gesture was harsher than it needed to be and bothers me more than it should. There is a tightness to my chest as I slowly open the door and watch the man so readily forsake me. Against myself, my eyes begin to prick with tears.

"Gw-" I shut my mouth at the sound of my voice breaking. I chew my lower lip and take deep breaths to calm myself.

I did not mean to make him cross— not like that. I feel my throat tighten as I replay what just happened. Guilt eats at me more each second and soon salt cascades down my cheeks. I sit there until the coachman knocks and asks if we should away. I dismiss him and tell him I will stay here for a little while.

I don't. It feels like an hour passed of me trying not to cry, crying, and calming myself. I start when someone knocks on my carriage door.

"My Lady Lannister?" a deep voice speaks, making me wipe my face in a panic.

I try to stifle my sniffle and use my skirt to dry my tears.

"Tis Ser Harwin Strong. You cannot leave your carriage here."

I clear my throat, but my voice still betrays me with a crack, "ap-ologies. I will have it m-" but my coachman is not here. I sigh and stare at my lap. My lips wobble as helplessness creeps up on me.

A prolonged moment of silence ensues before the man outside speaks again, "my lady... are you well?"

I huff and concede to simply opening the door.

I wipe my philtrum on my sleeve and feel twice as dreadful as I see the dark haired and bearded man outside my carriage. He is a beauty. His blue eyes narrow in concern, "my lady."

I shake my head and gather my skirts.

He instinctively reaches out a hand to me and assists me as I exit my ride. Once I am stood before him, I realize just how tall and broad he is. His brows tighten as he releases my hand. I offer him a smile, "I beg your pardon for the inconvenience. I do not have anyone to move the carriage."

Ser Harwin shakes his head, "one of the stable boys can move it." He turns over his shoulder and hollers for someone to do just that. A boy approaches us, nodding politely before climbing up the driver's seat to do what was instructed of him.

My stomach rolls when the towering man looks back at me. His demeanor is starkly juxtaposed to his stature. He ghosts a hand on my shoulder and raises an arm. He leads me off to the side and speaks softly, "is there anything I can assist you with, my lady?"

I shake my head, "I am well."

He nods and clutches his hands once we find ourselves standing just by the entrance of the Keep, "forgive me, but as a guard of the City Watch, it is my duty to uphold justice. I cannot stand idle in the face of trickery."

My brows quirk at his words. I tilt my head, "do you call me a liar, ser?"

"Yes," he answers simply.

My lips part as his brazen admission.

"True, it is not uncommon for one to weep with joy, but I recognize the distress laid upon your brow," he shakes his head, "would it not be simpler for you to say you require nothing of me than to pretend you are well?"

His words make me choke. I feel my eyes begin to fog with tears.

Ser Harwin's face falls. He raises his hands, "forgive me. I only meant-"

"No," I mumble, "you are right. I injure myself! I speak before I think and create inconveniences for entertainment." I scratch my tears away before they can fall. I look up to the man, feeling dread bite at me. I resist my instinct to slip further into my emotions and try to speak as evenly as possible, "the truth is... I had a... disagreement with my ward... we always get into disagreements, but... this time it was visceral."

The man shifts on his leg, "might I ask what the disagreement was over?"

"He says I work him like a dog, that I ask much more than what he ought to do," I sniffle, "and... perhaps it is true," I evade his gaze by turning to the sky. My lips quiver, "but I did not realize my presence was so heavily insufferable." I look back at him, "I am easy on the eyes, am I not?"

The man chuckles softly, "your features are quite comely indeed, Lady Lannister."

I nod once, "that is the only correct response, ser."

A rich chuckle fills the space between us. He hums and raises a hand, "have you expressed your orders were mere reasons to keep his company?"

My expression drops at his words. I laugh but it goes dry when I realize he spoke no jest. "Ser, my ward is Gwayne Hightower. He loathes me just as I loathe him."

"And do you normally weep for your enemies?" he tilts his head.

"I weep because he regards me so cruelly!" I snap in defense, "it is most twisted for one as he to raise his voice and show aggression to one such as I!"

Ser Harwin sighs.

I wipe my philtrum, feeling my body tremble with a mix of emotions.

"What was this errand you needed to be chaperoned to?"

I gulp as I bring my hands to my hips. I debate the sincerity of his words and decide he does not have the face of a man who would use my words against me. I huff, "the tailor's. I was to have a new dress made for me for-"

His brows quirk at my abrupt halt.

I feel blood rush up my neck, but I decide to ignore it and speak with as much scorn as I could muster, "Gwayne's nameday celebration."

I observe him carefully, ready to pounce and pound him if he so wishes to berate me for the honest admission. In truth, I am taken aback by the curtness of his reply. He nods and offers me an arm, "if it pleases you, I can accompany you to the tailor myself. I have finished my patrol and have nothing better to do."

My eyes dart from the curls framing his face to his meaty arm. My lips part as I find the words to say, "would you... rather not rest for the day?"

"My honor would not allow me after beholding a lady in her distress."

I stare at his arm for a few seconds and cautiously take it.

A good while passed until Gwayne returned to the stables to find his irritating lady. When he sees the Lannister carriage parked, he sighs and marches over, preparing himself to meet the rage of the woman that was still sitting inside in protest.

"Will you sleep-" he starts but stops when he opens the door to nothing. He raises a brow and closes the door. His attention falls on the passing servant, "you. Where is the lady of this carriage?"

The man looks at him then the carriage.

"Lady Lannister," Gwayne clarrifies.

He perks in recognition, "the lady Lannister and ser Strong headed to the tailor on horseback."

"On horseback," the knight scoffs in disbelief, "Lady Lannister?" his voice fades into a laugh. And he so enjoys himself laughing for a moment before sighing, "why, I applaud the good ser for his powers of persuasion."

Upon realizing that he no longer needed to be here, Gwayne grins and nods at him, "thank you my good man. Your news has made my day."

With that he walks off and heads to his quarters.

The next day, Gwayne has a spring to his step as he heads down the hall.

I am in the middle of having my hair fixed when I hear a knock on my door. I look at the reflection from the mirror before me, "come in."

I behold Gwayne and his grin as he struts towards my bed. He leaps into it, landing on his chest. He instructs one of my servants to get him a cup of wine. Each of these things would normally be cause to chew him up; all of these combined would make me unleash upon him the wrath due to his impertinence, and yet, I find myself uncaring of his blatant misbehavior. I merely instruct my servant to fetch the sapphire necklace that match my velvet dress and sit tight by my vanity.

Gwayne takes the wine that is served to him and sips before speaking out, "I hear Lord Harwin Strong was he who accompanied you to town yesterday."

I ignore him in lieu of twirling the baby hairs by my ears.

"And on horseback, no less," he takes another sip, "how ever did he get you to ride a horse by yourself?"

"I didn't," I turn to my servant who returns with my jewels, "we rode on the same horse."

Gwayne stills. He scrunches his face at the cup in his hand then looks at me, "what?"

I smile at myself on the mirror as the necklaces is clasped around my neck. I adjust the blue stone that sparkled between my collarbones and admire the look of it.

He sits up from the bed, careful not to spill his drink, "you rode the same horse?"

"Of course we rode the same horse," I roll my eyes, "he is not a fool who expects me to enjoy such sport."

The red haired man raises his brows. He waits for me to expound further, but finds I am distracted by my reflection. He scoffs, sipping again more before saying, "I pity the steed."

I grin at myself, pleased with my image.

"I pity the steed," he repeats, "that had to carry a knight, a brat, and her hundred dresses."

My eyes dart to him. He is already looking at me from the mirror. "He did not ride with me on the way back. He is not cruel like you."

"So he walked?" his forehead curls, "and on the way back, no less." He scoffs once more before drinking again, "well, the tailor is not that far."

I inspect my attire one last time before standing and heading to the bed. Gwayne lifts his eyes; the corner of his lips soon follow. He shifts on his spot and drinks deeply.

"You are dismissed, Hightower."

He licks his lips as his brows furrow, "what?"

I tilt my head and clasp my hands together, "you do so love making sport of me repeating myself."

Gwayne pulls his head back before standing. He lifts his nearly empty cup, "are you saying you— you have no plans for the day?" He purses his lips, "no errands you wish to force upon my being."

I clench my teeth but manage to pull a smile. Gwayne finds such endearment in the forced grins, not that he would ever admit so. I nod in agreement.

"So," he holds his cup with both hands, "I am free to do what I will for the day."

"Even more so to do it as far away from me as possible," I raise my hands before walking towards him to push him out of my room.

The man chuckles as he finishes what is left of his wine. He manages to hand the empty cup to one of the servants just before we both step out of the room. He licks his lips and tilts his head at me.

The smile that spreads on his face makes my stomach roll and I combat it with a glare, "do not wait on me. I will be promenading with a friend."

"Promenade?" he chuckles. The lines on his cheek remain as he raises his brow. He looks me once over, eyes lingering on the sapphire on my décolletage, "and pray tell, who in the Keep has merited the friendship of someone so high-nosed as you?"

"Ser Harwin Strong."

His grin falters.

I do not care to wonder why as I walk off and meet the man I named in the gardens as we had arranged.

Gwayne watches. He is left alone in the corridor. He chuckles to himself and heads off to the library to unwind. The closer he inched to his destination however, the more sour the taste in his mouth became. Before he even comes near the library, he finds himself marching off to look for gods knows what he'll find.

And it seems the gods do want him to find the source of his sourness. As he marched down one stairwell, he heard an unmistakable sound of laughter that made his ears perk. He heads to the hall and looks out the window.

There, he sees a man stood in front of a woman sat upon a bench, both of them giggling and both of them in blue. His eye twitches as the dark haired fool carelessly picks a flower from a bush and offers it to her.

Gwayne finds no relief when she does not take it, for instead it seems she instructed him to place the flower on the side of her hair.

"Ha," he scoffs, pulling away from the window, "promenade, says she? Ha!" Gwayne shakes his head as his feet take him back towards the library, "neither of them are walking. HA!"

Gwayne cannot help the way his hands clench and unclench as he storms off. He scoffs once again, "fucking Strong," the ire in his chest is molten, prickly, and painful as he adds, "fucking Lannister."

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narxcisse · 25 days ago

Text

★ — I Wish I Was Your Girl

Pairing: MH!Viktor x GN!Reader

CW: Angst, hurt without comfort, no happy ending, unrequited love

English isn't my native language

The metallic hum of Viktor’s laboratory was an all-encompassing presence. The rhythmic ticking of gears, the occasional flicker of artificial light, and the cold sterility of the environment were as constant as the man—or machine—who inhabited it. You stood at the edge of his sanctum, feeling out of place amidst the towering machinery and data readouts that likely made more sense to him than human emotion ever could.

Your voice was soft, barely rising above the whirring mechanisms. "Viktor... I think I need to leave."

The Machine Herald barely paused, his glowing eye swiveling in your direction. “Leave? You’ve spoken of this before, yet you remain. Explain.”

You swallowed, the weight of the past three years crashing over you. Touring the shattered continents, trailing behind Viktor as he spread his gospel of evolution and perfection. You didn’t regret it—how could you? He was brilliant, mesmerizing even in his cold, calculated way. But you were only human, and humans break.

“Do I need to explain?” you whispered. “You’re not blind to how… hollow I’ve felt.”

Viktor turned fully toward you, his towering frame casting a shadow that felt more oppressive than comforting. "You humans rely too much on feelings, on fleeting notions of inadequacy. They only hinder progress. You are not hollow; you are simply inefficient."

The words stung more than they should have. Three years at his side, years of chasing his approval, and this was all he saw you as—inefficient.

“I wish I was more to you,” you murmured, your voice cracking. “I wish I was... something.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Viktor tilted his head, as though analyzing you like a broken machine. "Your companionship has been a statistical anomaly. Useful at times, distracting at others. But sentimentality... is illogical."

It wasn’t the answer you wanted, but it was the one you expected. You took a shaky step toward him. “You never stop, do you? Always creating, always perfecting. But what about the things you and I will never do?”

“Things we will never do are irrelevant,” he stated plainly. “What matters is what can be achieved now, in the present.”

You laughed bitterly, rubbing at your eyes. "Then why do you let me stay? What purpose does keeping me around serve?"

His pause was uncharacteristic, almost imperceptible, but you noticed it. The faint hum of his augmented body filled the space between you.

“I have... no explanation,” he admitted finally. “Your presence has become routine, a constant variable. Disrupting it would—” He stopped, his mechanical fingers twitching. “It would be noticeable.”

Your heart twisted. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even care. It was habit.

Tears welled in your eyes, but you forced a smile. “Late at night, when you’re lost in your work, I wonder if you ever think about me the way I think about you. I wonder if you even could.”

Viktor stepped closer, his towering frame a mix of cold steel and faint humanity. “What you wish for is impossible. My mind has ascended beyond such frivolities. And yet…” His voice dropped into a softer hum, almost a whisper. “...there is a strange sense of loss at the thought of your absence. Illogical, but... real.”

You reached out, your hand brushing against the cold metal of his arm. It was ironic—he didn’t feel, and yet his words cut deeper than anything you’d ever known.

“I wish I was yours,” you said, barely audible. “But I’m not. And I never will be.”

His glowing eye flickered, and for a moment, you thought he might say something, anything to make you stay. Instead, he stood there, silent and still.

You stepped back, the weight of the years dragging behind you. “Goodbye, Viktor.”

As you turned to leave, his voice followed, flat but tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “Your inefficiency will be missed.”

The door closed behind you, and for the first time, Viktor stood alone in his lab, his machinery humming, his thoughts uncharacteristically scattered.

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saltstarzz · 6 months ago

Text

“𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐱 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐎𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮,”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: clingy!gojo x AFAB reader, SFW + NSFW. SFW: cuddling + kissing + silliness + touching + close proximity NSFW: pussy eating + rough pace + creampie + breeding kink + brief pregnancy mention + whining + pleading + aftercare

𝐚/𝐧: hello, this is technically my first post here and my first fic. had Gojo brainrot and needed to write it.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐒𝐅𝐖

clingy!gojo never once saw himself being a clingy lover by any means. He was a busy man, and never tended to stay in one place for too long, and never stayed with one person for too long either. Until you came crashing into his life.

suddenly, clingy!gojo is practically begging the higher-ups to let him stay just a little longer in japan so he can stay with you for just an extra day or so.

If clingy!Gojo had problems with personal space before, it absolutely skyrockets when you two begin dating. he's always so close to you. a couple inches to your hip, or behind you. trails alongside you when you two go out, always in your personal space by barely inches.

always has to be touching you. it's practically habit now for clingy!gojo to slip an arm around your waist to hug you closer to him or intertwine your fingers, or even sling his arm around your shoulder. he does it so much that even his students grow used to it, expecting their teacher to always be attached to your hip whenever you're around.

clingy!gojo takes initiative with every date he plans. it's always extravagant or extremely childish like a trip to an amusement park on a summer afternoon or a fancy restaurant out on a boardwalk, there's no middle ground. he's giddy and on the day of the outing, he's up under you, constantly prattling on about his plans for day while practically hip to hip.

clingy!gojo was frivolous before you started dating, and it's absolutely ramped up now that you're together. oftentimes, your shopping trips come out to thousands of yen, and clingy!gojo doesn't even bat an eye. get that cute bag you've been looking at, or those pairs of shoes you saw online, he'll cover it. sometimes, when he's away on missions overseas, he comes back with piles of souvenirs for you, all nonsensical little trinkets that reminded him of you like stickers of the American flag or pins from Spain.

and finally, when clingy!gojo is forced on a mission that takes him away from you, even for a week, he blows up your phone with nonsensical messages about his day and calls you any chance he gets. quick short sentences telling you about a bird he saw or that he stubbed his toe, and long calls where sometimes you two aren't even talking. you'll be cooking with the TV in the back and he's riding public transport, but it's the fact you two are somewhat connected, even miles away that puts clingy!gojo at ease.

“Satoru, we talked about this,” you chuckle softly, looking down at the piles and piles of trinkets and souvenirs piled up on the dining table. Keychains, and pins, and even bottle openers and handfuls of stamps, all from Brazil. “We don't have any room for more souvenirs,” you remind him gently.

And unsurprisingly, Satoru is pouting. His back straight as he stares down at the piles of souvenirs on the dining table like he's mourning the fact he can't take a stray pet home. His lips juts out and his hip is practically touching yours.

“Honey...” you gently begin but Satoru cuts you off by gently sliding out a long keychain beneath the pile.

“We can't even keep this one?” he asks, his free hand sliding into yours.

It's a keychain with your name emblazoned onto it in white text with a cheap background of a Brazilian beach. The plastic is scratched up, but there's clearly thought taken to it.

You sigh. You've never been good at telling Satoru no, especially not now with his lip jutted out and his blue eyes shimmering at you behind his blue glasses.

“Fine...”

NSFW below this cut: Minors, please DNI

: ̗̀➛ 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖

clingy!gojo is on an absolute mission when you two have sex. it's never routine and clingy!gojo is absolutely happy to do it. falls to his knees at the edge of the bed with your legs loosely over his shoulders and he sucks and licks and eats at your pussy like it's all he knows how to do. (bonus points if it's just after a mission)

clingy!gojo adores everything about your pussy. thinks about it constantly and when he's got it, he focuses on nothing but it. drives two of his long fingers deep into you, one at a time while he works you up to it with his tongue and slow, deep plunges. absolutely talks you through it too, nonsensical rambling consisting of a lot of L-bombs and praises, while he licks and toys with your clit.

clingy!gojo fucking loves foreplay. adores touching you and kissing over your breasts or along your tummy or running his hands up and down your sides to send goosebumps on your skin. it's his favorite thing in the entire world.

when you and clingy!gojo do end up fucking though, clingy!gojo is an absolute puddle. the moment the tip is in, clingy!gojo practically melts. his shoulders relax and his long white lashes flutter and he's groaning. thrusts all the way in the moment he feels your pussy flutter around his tip.

clingy!gojo buries his face into your shoulder while you two have sex, or into the crook of your neck. his hips are driving his cock into you over and over again at a quick and hard pace that's so mind numbingly good, you two are both basically brainless.

clingy!gojo 1 billion percent holds your hands while you fuck. intertwines your fingers with his and even kisses your knuckles or your fingers. such a big hand holder.

clingy!gojo is extremely vocal during sex too. whining about how tight you are, and how much he loves your pussy. his voice rarely cracks, but he's an absolute mess and he can't help it. pleads with you to let him go a little deeper or to let him cum inside, with the latter being on days when it's been too long since you two have had sex.

and clingy!gojo isn't even super kinky, but the days that you're safe and he can cum inside, clingy!gojo takes full advantage of it. mumbles and pleads with you to let him put a baby in you. not to give his clan an heir, but just to let him. he wants to see your tummy round and growing bigger with each passing month and that's enough to get his cock twitching. he knows you can't, given birth control or simple safe days, but he loves the idea, melts when he thinks about it.

when clingy!gojo does finally cum, he cums for a long ass time. cock nestled deep into your pussy, as rope after rope of cum flows freely into you. he's shaking through it all and sucking in breaths through his teeth, until he can finally relax.

clingy!gojo, no matter how vanilla or rough your night can be, always includes aftercare. though he doesn't specifically call it aftercare, clingy!gojo does it every night. gets you all cleaned up, rubs out any tension in your hibs or if you've had a particularly rough night, he rubs his hands soothingly over your ass. prepares a bath for you if it's harder to stand, or a shower for you both. changes out the sheets, and cuddles you throughout the night, practically crushing you under his weight.

“Satoru-- Nnh, shit!”

Deep plunge after deep plunge, you can feel the head of his cock pressing just right on a little spot inside of you. It hits its mark right every single time, and has your vision going fuzzy. You're sopping wet, soaking little rings into his cock and wetting his white hairs with every deep thrust that brings you two hip to hip.

“Satoru!”

Your boyfriend has his head nestled into the crook of your neck, his fingers intertwined with yours, pressing them down into the satin sheets. He's panting and groaning into your skin, sweat rolling down in gentle droplets over his skin.

“Baby, please... Please, let me cum inside. Please, please, please. I can't pull out. I don't want to pull out...” he whines, his voice uncharacteristically high, full of whining and pleasing.

You're not surprised he'd ask you that. Satoru loved to cum inside and watch his seed flow out from your pussy before he licked you clean. But Satoru doesn't simply stop there tonight.

“I need to put a baby in you...”

Probably a slip of the tongue, but if Satoru meant to correct himself he never does. He lifts his head as his thrusts become even faster, feverish and needy. “I need you to have my kids, baby, I need every fucking drop inside you.”

#gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jjk fluff #jjk smut #smut #scenarios #i dont know how to tag #this was fun to write

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bella-goths-wife · 10 months ago

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What would have happened if Vs pet made a deal with a different overlord

So basically we know what would happen if Vs pet made a deal with alastor and obviously vox, but what would happen if they sold their soul to Velvette, Valentino, Rosie or Carmilla instead

Warnings: obsessive behaviour, SA mentions, abuse mentions, forced affection, forced cannibalism, reader is uncomfortable, violence mentions

Velvette:

Now we know that even though you’d still belong to all the Vs collectively, if you made the deal with Velvette instead of Vox there would be a large power dynamic shift in terms of your care

Let’s say that Velvette found you first and was the one to make a deal with you, you wouldn’t be working for vox as his assistant in this scenario and would instead be a model or assistant to velvette

In the usual au where vox owns your soul, he is the one who creates your rules and enforces them

He’s the one who decides whether the other two can see you

But if velvette owned your soul instead then that entire dynamic is turned upside down, she’s the one who makes your rules and she’s the one who decides whether or not she’ll let vox spend time with you

This would absolutely infuriate him, and velvette can’t help but smile at that

Your rules would be much less restrictive if velvette was the one who owned your soul

Unlike vox who sees you as a surrogate daughter figure most of the time, velvette only sees you as a delightful little pet and occasional friend

And she understands that sometimes pets need a walk or a new toy to keep them occupied until she’s ready to play with them again

So you’d be able to leave the tower by yourself more often and you’d be able to hookup with people, but there is still a strict ban on forming intimate connections or starting relationships

Velvette requires your attention almost all of the time, and you can’t give her that if your chasing after some romantic partner

She should be enough of a connection for you!

You don’t need anyone else

You’d still be shared with the other Vs unfortunately as they share everything, so you’ll still have to deal with Valentino and voxs antics

But at least velvette will draw the line if she thinks they take up to much of your time

Your her pet after all, you sold your soul to her

A downside to velvette being your souls holder is that you’d be the weakest with velvette when it comes to your abilities and fighting skills

She doesn’t want you to improve so you don’t, you only use your power for frivolous purposes and for velvettes entertainment rather than actually using like a weapon like you would with vox or alastor

She doesn’t push you to get better, so you don’t get better

You’d have twice the attitude with half the power because of how velvette taught you and how she spoils you with materialistic things

Rosie:

Rosie would absolutely adore you

She has a soft spot for strays, and she’d heard quite a bit about you from alastor before he disappeared

And she once she met you she thought one thought, what a good friend she’d be if she took your soul in exchange for care and shelter before offering the contract to alastor when he gets back from his extremely long break

So she’d give you a job in cannibal town and she’d give you an entire makeover so you’d fit in more

She’d actually spend time to get to know you and what your life was like before you died

She can’t help but miss alastor when your around, you just remind her so much of him

She’d use your ability to create background music for her gossip sessions and for her party’s, but she’d also encourage you to use it as a weapon and practice with it in your own time

So you’d be more powerful than you would be with velvette but less powerful then you’d be with Vox or alastor

A downside to being in her care is that she wouldn’t be as protective as the others

She’s a busy woman who can’t be with you at all times, so there is a slight chance you may end up hurt while being in her care

She’d do her best to prepare you in case that happens, and you like that she offers you enough freedom to come and go freely enough

Another downside to being in Rosie’s care is that you’d have to adapt to her appetite unfortunately, it’s not like you can find a non cannibal place to eat in a cannibal town

So you’d be practically forced into cannibalism

But Rosie absolutely adores you, so she’ll look the other way sometimes if you want to eat something less gorey

She calls it a nice treat :)

Rosie would consider you a companion more than anything, maybe a goddaughter but she certainly doesn’t see you as a pet or a toy

So you’d be pretty happy with Rosie

But she gets so attached to you that when alastor does return, she refuses to give him your soul no matter what he offers

But it’s okay, because she says he can visit you any time in your home in cannibal town

He hates it but oh well, your her little darling fawn now

Valentino:

Oh god

He’d be the absolute worst choice on the list

If you sold him your soul, your guaranteed a situation similar to angel dusts

Maybe less abusive, but wayyyy more obsessive

You’d be a simple actress in a few of his videos until he becomes obsessed with you, and then you become his personal assistant

And when I say personal, I mean extremely personal

As in the ‘sleeps in his bed every night because he’s afraid you’ll run away’ personal

He wouldn’t see you in a romantic light, more of just a ‘your my possession’ light

You’d be absolutely miserable and constantly in his presence while also dealing with the other Vs

He’d force you to do videos for him and instead of your rules he’d use a ‘reward’ system

Rewards like ��hold me for a few minutes and I’ll let you be on your own for an hour’

He’d be unbearably clingy and can sometimes get abusive with you, the same way he can be abusive with angel dust

You’d also be extremely weak because he won’t let you practice or explore your abilities at all

If he’s there to protect you at all times, then why would you need to be able to use your silly abilities?

He’d at least allow you to have your friendship with angel dust, but that’s only because he’s using you both to manipulate each other

He’d definitely get you hooked on something so you’ll be relying on him at all times

This would be the worst possible situation for you

Carmilla:

Carmilla would be interested in you because of your ability and how she could use it

She’d find you living on the streets and using your ability to get by and she’d wonder if she could incorporate your skills into making a new weapon designed for people with animal like ears which would be more sensitive

So she’d exchange your soul for her giving you shelter and a job in return

You would stay with her and her daughters and you’d spend most of the day with carmilla helping her design new weapons

It would be during this time that carmilla would become more obsessive with you and start to view you as a daughter

You were so young and so vulnerable, it reminded her of her two young girls and how she’d hate it if it was them

So she’d start acting more motherly with you, but she’d do it slowly so you could get accustomed to it

So she wouldn’t go straight to giving you rules and demanding you call her mom, instead she’d just make it more obvious that she views you as one of her family and that she’d appreciate it if you felt the same for her

But once you do accept her in some form, those rules are coming fast

And you know carmilla will not tolerate back talk or breaking rules

You’d have typical teenage girl rules, stuff like a curfew and drinking rules

But she’s still take the time to respect your boundaries and acknowledge that your an adult in your own way so she can’t act too overbearing

Which is more than you can say for the Vs

You’d also be quite powerful in this scenario because she’d give you training sessions to help with your personal abilities and your fighting skills

So I’d say she’s one of the better options

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nina-ya · 3 months ago

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Closet Cravings (Law x Reader NSFW)

A/N: I had meant to post this earlier in the week but ya know! hurricane things! Apologies for tossing this out so late but here it is! Pairing: Law x AFABreader CW: SMUT MINORS DNI unprotected sex, creampie, semi public sex, uhhh yeah I think that's it! • masterlist • ko-fi • discord server •

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ You don't even remember how you got here. One moment you were tossing back glasses of champagne at some frivolous banquet where you didn't quite know what you were celebrating, the next, Law had those inked hands all over you, planting needy kisses along your neck and shoulder, pulling you into the nearest storage closet to take things further. The closet is suffocating with the thick scent of sex and sweat in the air as your back digs into the wall behind you. There’s barely enough space to breathe, let alone move, but that doesn’t matter. Not with Law pressed so tightly against you, his chest flush to yours, his body pinning you in place. His breath is ragged in your ear, heavy with lust, as his fingers dig into your hips, controlling every desperate grind of your body against his.

Your dress, once elegant and pristine, is now hiked up around your waist, bunched and forgotten as his fingers slide beneath your panties, teasing the slick pooling between your legs. Every inch of you is alive, burning with the need for more, and despite Law’s own eagerness to feel you wrapped around him, he likes to keep it slow, just to torment you.

He could use his Devil Fruit to silence you, making those filthy sounds spilling from your lips disappear into nothing, but he doesn't. No, he wants to hear you. Wants to watch the way your pretty little jaw goes slack, letting out huffs and pants, your breath hitching as you try, and fail, to stifle the moans bubbling up from your throat. There’s something about the way you struggle to keep quiet, your body trembling, that drives him absolutely mad.

“You’re too fucking loud,” he growls, lips brushing against your ear, but the smirk tugging at his lips tells you that he is enjoying seeing your futile attempts at holding yourself together.

The combined heat of your bodies is suffocating, to say the least, the cramped space seems to amplify every sensation and you are acutely aware of the way his fingers slide away from your dripping hole and are replaced by the bulbous head of his cock. He rubs the tip against you, just enough to coat his tip with your essence before sliding right in. The stretch is delicious, forcing you to bite down hard on your lip to keep from crying out, your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as your body clenches around him.

“Law…” his name falls from your lips in a shaky whisper, a plea, but he just responds by pulling out slightly and thrusting in all the way, ripping a yelp from your throat.

“You just look too good tonight,” he murmurs, dipping his head into your neck, grazing his teeth along the skin as he huffs with the intensity of his thrusts. “How the hell was I supposed to control myself?”

You can feel every inch of him inside you, the tight space making each thrust deeper, harder, his hips rolling in a way that makes your whole body tremble. Your breath comes in shallow, ragged pants, but the way he moves inside of you makes it nearly impossible. Your body arches against him, your hands gripping his shoulders for any semblance of support, but it’s not enough. The pleasure builds, coiling tight within you, and it takes everything within you to keep from just wailing out his name for others outside of this closet to hear.

But Law wasn’t satisfied. One of his hands slips down between your legs, pressing against your swollen clit with a pressure that rips a gasp from your lips. The shock of the feeling has your whole body jerking in response as he rubs circles against the bundle of nerves, making it impossible to think, let alone stay quiet.

He smirks against your neck, placing wet kisses down the column of your throat. “What’s wrong? Can’t hold back” he taunts.

You shake your head, biting your lip hard enough to break the skin, but it’s no use. The building pressure is too much, the pleasures all too intense, and you can’t stop the strangled whimper that escapes you when he pulls out to the tip and slams right back in.

Law chuckles at the noise, his breath fanning across your ear as he whispers, “Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy the idea of people knowing what we are doing.” His words are like gasoline and he is just tossing them right into the flames of your euphoria and you can’t help but clench around him at his words. He notices, deciding to push you further, “Oh? You really want to be caught, don’t you? Come on, let everyone out there know how good I’m making you feel.”

Before you can stop yourself, a loud, desperate, shameless moan slips past your lips. His name falls from your mouth again, louder this time, chanting it as if it were a prayer. Your resolve has officially cracked, hurdling you toward that blissful high that you so desperately crave.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he hisses out, voice strained as his own control begins to slip. He thrusts into you harder, pace growing erratic, and you can feel him unraveling before you, his breath becoming faster, fingers of one hand digging into your thigh, while the other works on your clit, his movements faltering with each growing sentence.

The small space, the overwhelming feeling of his body against yours, the struggle of trying to stay quiet- it all makes everything more intense, more desperate. Your body is trembling now, the pleasure building to a breaking point as you cling to him, your nails raking against his chest, threatening to rip his shirt, and you just can’t take it anymore. The moan that tears from your throat is loud and needy, and you just don’t care anymore who hears it.

Law’s teeth nip at your collarbone as he grinds into you, the head of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over again until you are standing right on the edge, your whole body tensing as you finally fall over it. Your orgasm rips through you, your body convulsing as the pleasure floods every nerve. Your walls clench around him, gripping his cock with a desperate intensity, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as you ride your high. Your fingers dig into his shirt, knuckles turning white with the force of your grip, your head tilting back as a broken cry of his name spills from your lips. The sensation is nothing short of overwhelming with each pulse of your release so powerful that you feel you may just burst. Your body trembles beneath him as you gasp for air.

And even though you’re lost in the haze of your one pleasure, you can feel the way Law’s body stiffens slightly, using all he has left to speed up before slamming into you one last time. His grip on you tightens and he groans your name in that voice that you’re sure to replay in your head later over and over again. His cock throbs inside of you, spilling hot and deep as his orgasm takes over, each pulse of his cock sending small aftershocks through your already trembling body as his cum fills you completely, the warmth spreading as he empties himself into you.

The two of you just stay there only for a moment- forehead against forehead, heavy breathing, and despite the intensity of the moment, there's a lazy, satisfied smirk pulling at his lips.

With a languid sigh, he pulls out of you and you can feel the slick, sticky trail of your combined release starting to slip from between your legs the moment he withdraws. He sets you down gently, but your legs are shaky and ready to give out beneath you at any given moment. You reach for his arm to steady yourself as you hastily fix your clothes alongside them, as you slip your underwear back into place, you feel the unmistakable warmth of his cum slowly dribbling down your thigh. Embarrassment floods your features as you go to wipe it away, but before you can clean yourself properly, Law is already pushing the door open and stepping back into the banquet as if nothing had happened. You blink, dazed, still trying to recover from the moment prior and the realization hits you- if the sounds you’d made together weren’t enough to give you away, the unmistakable sticky mess sliding down your thighs surely will.

#nina writes~✦#trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law #one piece x reader #x reader

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robolvrr · 27 days ago

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can't get enough ! ⋆ ★

ratchet x gn! reader x drift warnings: nsfw. threesome.

pleasure threatens to lull you dumb.

close to it, anyhow. drift can tell, your spine arches helpless, feline and on the verge of that special something him and his partner can't explain.

what ever power you hold over the pair is beyond logic and they've given up the frivolities of embarrassment - it was much more interesting to see just what else you could do instead.

his optics brighten, blazing and wavering at the cusp of your ass. how it meets him in jerky, motivated smacks, veins rushing with blood and muscle and fat rippling by sheer force.

this image plays over and over, until a squeak politely reminds his servos to lessen their might, alloy thumbs smoothing over the raw skin in affectionate afterthought.

he remembers first approaching you and how silly it all was.

a human, with a cybertronian, let alone two? the thought was as taboo as it was unheard of, as far as his knowledge goes. he hadn't devoted himself to a life of modesty, but even he knew tipsy on engex that what he offered was scandalous.

the surprise from him and ratchet? painting worthy. you had smiled up to them so sweetly, their precious, little secret, whispering that you had noticed them both staring. that you invited it, gladly. that you were more than happy to introduce them to just how resilient the human body could be under the right circumstances.

"keep them steady."

ratchet's voice, itching with electricity and a buzz in his field he could never ignore, tears him from ruminating. the mech raises an optical ridge, half-gazing with a lazy sort of amusement. drift ignores the stammer of his spark, continuing his hips when you whine "right there, right there!" - his kind doesn't have to stop, doesn't tire the same way and can actually pound that spot in you that makes you squirt for as long and rough as you'd like.

since you've been good, since ratchet has given him the green flag to do so, drift makes sure the back of your thighs nuzzle the front of his, warmth and softness sending tingles to his sensors. he admires the way your arousal clashes, oil and water, bright carnation and creamy pearl pitter pattering puddles on the floor.

your toes curl and fingers ball to fists, jingle of a brand new gift making music near the curve of your neck.

ratchet had been the one to bestow it. made sure the golden charm was perfectly center when he had clasped it, tightened just shy of breathless.

the insinuations, reality of it all, still drive drift crazy. his groans grow heated, heightened by the uninterrupted watchfulness of his conjux.

your vision is blurred. lips parted, your chest is sticky while you work yourself on drift's spike, stomach bulging at the angle he's pretzeled you in. not that you're complaining. the warrior still treats a tangle of sex like a battlefield, more than observant for the ticks and triggers that'll earn him raspy sighs.

ratchet? is obsessive in his own ways. he commands respect and you rarely try your bratty tricks with him. you can tell he's in the mood for stress relief, servo cupping the underside of your sweat-slick chin.

"open your mouth."

"hhhhguh?"

shushing you, you fold as he leans forward.

"no need to use your pretty head. just open."

in seconds, the fat tip of his spike lands flat on your tongue. you don't have to be mindful of teeth, though relax your jaw in efforts to swallow as much of his girth as you can.

a groan signals you've been... improving.

shallow thrusts split your mind in half, not in pace with drift's. when you lose rhythm, either or of them gently nurture you back on course. if anyone walked in, it'd be a debauched scene worthy the grimiest of hedonia's pleasure habs.

flesh can't handle excitement this passionate the way metal does. white starbursts behind your then shut eyelids, whimpers petering to a roughed up whine as you flounder for support.

you feel... squished. sandwiched more - while you don't have the energy or frankly the autonomy to peek, your hearing is just as good. a swap of something wet. muffled moans.

they're kissing. and ratchet's spike is further down your throat than usual, drift's almost hilted from behind. their glossas messily unlatch from one another and both holes empty at the same time.

gooey, another weak hiccup leaves you. digits course across your scalp, back, cheekbones.

the lost light is quiet. your lovers are content and you - you just can't get enough of it.

robolvrr 2024

a/n : another of the drafts i HAD to get out. please. please. PLEASE get me between those old men. i just know they'd love a little pet tbh.

#maccadam #transformers x reader #/nsft #valveplug #/nsfw #ratchet x drift x reader #ratchet x reader #drift x reader #mtmte x reader #slams this big boy on your dash #transformers x human reader #mtmte ratchet #mtmte drift

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santaasi · 7 months ago

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hate to be lame

pairing: fwb!jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: you hate to admit it but you might love jj maybank

warnings: fluff, (small) angst, allusion to sex, no use of y/n, pet names (cupcake, doll), english isn’t my first language

word count: 4.3k

a/n: inspired by hate to be lame - lizzie mcalpine, fineas

YOU DIDN'T REMEMBER THE MOMENT WHEN EVERYTHING CHANGED. When the stars collided so that for the first time you felt this swarm of butterflies in your stomach at the very sight of him looking at you. Or when the hookups after parties stopped being just sex and became something more. Something more for you.

JJ Maybank had always captivated your attention. Like everyone on the island, you couldn't help but notice that despite being the arrogant pain in every Kook's ass, JJ was sculpted like an Apollo. His tall, broad-shouldered frame was the result of daily labor for the wealthy residents of Figure 8, including you and your family. His eternally tousled dirty blond hair and those eyes... those mesmerizing eyes that reflected the beauty of North Carolina's sandy coast and salty sea. Adding to his allure was his reputation as a "troubled bad boy," a role that made him irresistible to all the girls on the island. No matter how much you wished to resist, you were no exception. His presence was magnetic, a blend of raw strength and rugged charm that drew you in despite your better judgment.

JJ Maybank wasn't just a distraction; he was a force of nature. His very existence seemed to challenge the orderly world you were accustomed to, tempting you with the promise of adventure and rebellion. The way he carried himself, with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, only heightened his appeal. He was everything you were supposed to avoid, yet everything you secretly desired.In those stolen glances and fleeting moments, you felt a connection that transcended mere attraction. It was as if his wild spirit called out to the hidden desires within you, urging you to break free from the confines of your polished life. And despite the consequences, despite the warnings, you knew deep down that resisting JJ Maybank was a battle you were destined to lose.

Resisting the allure of the Pogue boy required keeping your distance, avoiding any encounters, and only observing from afar how at each new party, he would make out with yet another girl. These girls, whom you secretly envied, seemed to effortlessly capture his attention. And it wasn't love or sympathy for the guy that drove you, no. It was the allure of the forbidden fruit that everyone spoke of with such sweetness that captivated you. You longed to savor its essence, if only for a fleeting moment, before moving on with your life. But there's wisdom in the saying, "be careful what you wish for," because the moment JJ Maybank became the new lawn boy in your house and when a week later he found his way into your silk sheets, you understood. JJ Maybank wasn't just a temptation; he was an addiction.

Sex with him was like scenes from an old romantic movie: tender, sensual, and passionately intense. JJ Maybank was not just focused on his own pleasure; he made it his mission to make you feel like a queen. He would lift you to the ninth cloud, then gently lower you back to earth, leaving you yearning for him again and again until you were utterly spent.

After the bliss of being in bed, he would carry that enchantment into the shower. With hands roughened by hard work, he would glide over your body, applying expensive shower gel with a touch that was both firm and tender, rinsing it off with hot water. His fingers would move through your hair, massaging your scalp as he applied shampoo and followed it with a series of hair care steps that he found frivolous but performed with care just for you. His lips would leave delicate kisses on your cheeks, shoulders, collarbone, fingers—anywhere he could reach, while his hot breath scorched your skin as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

Afterward, he would wrap your towel-dried body in one of his T-shirts, the ones you kept in your closet and slept in every night, inhaling the scent of the sea that clung to them. Then he would lift you in his arms, carry you to your huge bed, and lie down beside you, holding you close.

These moments were more than physical pleasure; they were a symphony of sensations that transcended mere touch. JJ's rough, hard working hands moved with surprising gentleness, as if cherishing every inch of your skin. His presence was overwhelming yet comforting, a paradox that left you helplessly drawn to him. Each touch, each kiss, each whisper was a promise of more—more passion, more tenderness, more of the addictive connection that bound you to him. In his embrace, time seemed to stand still. The world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the two of you, lost in a private universe of bliss and desire. JJ Maybank wasn't just a lover; he was an experience, a force that transformed every moment with him into something magical. As you lay there, wrapped in his arms, you knew that this was a feeling you would never tire of, a craving that would forever haunt your dreams.

Perhaps it was this tender and sensualness on his part, which you had never met before, that made your little heart beat more often in your chest. Or maybe it was all those little moments and conversations in between, all those stupid jokes that made you laugh until your stomach hurt, and all those "accidental" touches after which your body forgot how to breathe.

Maybe it was all this, or perhaps everything in between, but none of it mattered in the end. The bottom line remained the same: despite everything, you fell in love with JJ Maybank, and it seemed like your biggest mistake. He wasn't interested in relationships. To him, a relationship meant the end of freedom and happiness. And you were a Kook—a Kook he despised and hated. People like you always made him do their dirty work, just like your parents did, and it was because of them that he often found himself at the precinct. All these factors combined left no chance of moving from the category of friends with benefits to something more.

You wanted to believe that the smoldering looks you caught from him at parties, the casual touches, and the late-night conversations on your rooftop meant as much to him as they did to you. But you weren't naive enough to think your relationship was special when he spent his life changing girls like gloves. So, you buried your feelings deep inside and accepted the reality you lived in, where JJ Maybank was just your fling.

You couldn't help but replay the moments when his gaze lingered a little too long, or when his touch seemed to convey more than just physical desire. Each encounter was a blend of ecstasy and heartbreak, knowing that while he held you close, he was never truly yours. The connection you felt was undeniable, but the barriers between you were just as real. He was a wild spirit, untamed and unbound, while you were part of the world that tried to cage him. Despite this, you cherished every moment spent with him. The laughter, the shared secrets, the way he made you feel alive in a way no one else could. The intensity of his presence was intoxicating, making it impossible to stay away even when you knew it was for the best. JJ was an addiction, a beautiful, dangerous addiction that you couldn't quit.

And so, you continued to live in this bittersweet limbo, hiding your love behind a facade of casual encounters. Every time he left, a part of you broke a little more, but you told yourself it was enough. Enough to have him in any capacity, enough to experience the fleeting moments of closeness. Because despite the pain, despite the heartache, loving JJ Maybank was the most real thing you had ever felt.

“You're too quiet today, doll,” JJ's hoarse voice rang out in your ear, making goosebumps run all over your body. You didn't say anything, snuggling closer to his bare chest, filling the quiet room with the rustle of sheets. His skin was still covered with beads of sweat after sex, and you were breathing in his musky scent, which was intoxicating your mind. You never thought that the smell of someone's sweat would attract you so much.

“What happened?” you seemed to catch a hint of concern in his voice, but immediately pushed it away from you. JJ just loved to chat. That's all. He's only interested in your body.

“Nothing,” you muttered listlessly in the area of his neck, leaving a soft kiss behind his ear. “It's just a hard day”

"Ah, I see. Shopping and maxing out daddy's credit card must be exhausting," JJ joked, his chest shaking with laughter. You frowned, burying your face in his neck.

You hated moments like this—moments when the perfect bubble of isolation, where you were just yourself and he was just JJ Maybank, would burst, making you feel the social gap between you. Making you feel small and unworthy of him because of the money that had surrounded you since childhood. JJ wasn't trying to offend you with such jokes, but they still stung, reminding you that he wasn't the man for you.

The silence that followed was heavy, and JJ's laughter died down as quickly as it had started. Even without looking at him, you could imagine the wrinkle forming between his eyebrows, and his hand squeezing your thigh a little harder under the blanket.

"I'm serious, what's wrong?" His voice carried a hint of urgency now, his concern palpable. Yet faced with the familiar wall of silence, JJ gently lifted your chin with his free hand, compelling you to meet his gaze. You grumbled in protest, but reluctantly raised your head, locking eyes with his deep blue gaze.

"What's troubling you, cupcake?" His gaze swept over your face, noting the tension in your compressed lips, the furrowed brows, and the careful scrutiny in your eyes. JJ genuinely seemed worried.

You took a ragged breath, parting your lips as if ready to unload the burdens that had weighed on your soul for months, to confess the feelings that had consumed you. But as you looked into his eyes, knowing they had probably held the same look just nights ago with another girl wrapped in sheets, you shook your head and sought solace in his lips instead.

This kiss was different. It was tender and sensual, lacking the usual passion and urgency. His lips moved languidly against yours, synchronized in a gentle dance. With each touch of lips and intertwining of tongues, your heartbeat seemed to echo emotions too complex to name. You wanted desperately to believe this was what true love's kiss felt like, but deep down, you knew there was no love in your relationship.

JJ held you close after the kiss, his arms providing a temporary sanctuary from the uncertainties gnawing at your heart. His touch was comforting, his presence a balm against the turmoil within you. Yet, even in his embrace, the unspoken truths lingered, casting shadows on the fragile intimacy you shared.

JJ gently laid you back, his weight hovering over you as he broke the kiss, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. His gaze slid over your face, catching the puppy-dog look you had been giving him for months. Slowly, his hand moved to your cheek, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear before tracing gentle patterns on your flushed skin with his knuckles. The touch ignited a cascade of emotions within you. You were almost certain he knew about your feelings, that his every touch was a deliberate play to elicit a response from you.

You didn't want to believe JJ could be that callous, not after spending the last seven months with him. Yet, a nagging voice whispered that you were just one among many lovesick admirers in his life—a mere grain of sand on his beach of girlfriends.

"You know I'm going to get an answer from you, doll," JJ murmured, planting a tender kiss on your cheek. "So you'd better tell me what's been weighing on you."

He rubbed his nose against yours, and you closed your eyes, a soft smile spreading across your face. Your hands, resting calmly around his neck, threaded through the regrown strands of his hair. These quiet, affectionate moments with JJ felt like sanctuary, where he seemed to be the only person in your entire world. In these fleeting instances, the words you longed to speak hovered on the tip of your tongue. Yet, time and again, you held yourself back...

"Have you ever... fallen in love?" you asked in a half-whisper, feeling your heart skip a beat.

JJ's brow furrowed again, but then he chuckled and reclined onto his side of the bed. His hand ran through his tousled hair, momentarily captivating you as you lost yourself in the sound of his infectious laughter and the sight of his radiant smile. For that fleeting moment, all else faded away. But as reality crashed back, you bit your lip, struggling to hold back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You turned your gaze towards the ceiling, chastising yourself silently. How could you have asked such a foolish question? Why did it escape your lips at all? Fool, fool, fool!

Sensing your shift in mood, JJ's expression softened into seriousness. He turned to face you, reaching out to intercept your hand resting on your stomach, gently intertwining his fingers with yours.

"Hey, hey, hey... I didn't mean to laugh, cupcake," JJ said with an encouraging smile. "You caught me off guard, that's all."

You both lay in silence for a while, his gaze lingering on your clasped hands, yours fixed on the ceiling. The moment hung between you, heavy with unspoken words and uncharted emotions. JJ's touch brought a sense of warmth and reassurance, yet beneath it all, you wrestled with the vulnerability of your question, unsure of what his response—or lack thereof—might mean for the fragile balance between you..

"Six months ago, I would have said no..." JJ's voice was slow and measured, his attention still fixed on your intertwined fingers. His thumb moved gently, tracing soothing circles over the knuckles of your hand. He cleared his throat before continuing, his words carrying a weight of uncertainty. "Now... now I would say everything is complicated."

You nodded slowly, letting out a sigh as your eyes drifted back to the white ceiling. In the dim light, you could still make out the faint glow of the small fluorescent stars that your parents had stuck up there when you were a kid, hoping they would keep the darkness at bay. It was love, you thought.

"It can't be complicated here... you're either in love with someone, or you're not... you either have something to say to them, but you stop yourself, or you have nothing to say..." you murmured, your gaze still fixed on the ceiling. You then turned your head to look at JJ. Only now did you notice that his eyes were completely on you, not on your hands.

"I read an article on the internet… Told me that that's how you know you're fallin' in love” you added softly, almost defensively. "Of course, don't really trust what's on the internet but maybe just this once..." Your voice trailed off as you searched his eyes, suddenly feeling exposed yet oddly liberated by your honesty. The intimacy of the moment hung between you like a fragile thread, woven with unspoken truths and the silent hopes of understanding. JJ's expression softened, his eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and something deeper, something you couldn't quite decipher.

In that shared silence, amidst the gentle hum of thoughts and emotions swirling around you, you waited for his response, unsure of what it might unveil about the intricacies of your entangled hearts.

"Do you have somethin’ to tell me?" JJ interrupted you and you immediately focused your gaze on him, frowning again.

As you lay there, staring at the ceiling and grappling with the weight of your thoughts, a whirlwind of questions spun through your mind. Did JJ want to understand what was troubling you once more? Or was he subtly probing to see if you harbored feelings for him, based on that theory you had read about online? Did you love him? Did you need him? Did you want him? The uncertainty gnawed at you, and part of you wished you could affirm those feelings—if only to ensure he would stay.

He shifted closer, his touch gentle as he traced patterns on your hand, silently urging you to speak or find solace in his presence. His eyes, familiar and searching, conveyed a mix of concern and a readiness to listen—a testament to the bond you had forged in the months spent together. In that moment, as the weight of your inner turmoil pressed down, you found yourself yearning for clarity, for a resolution that would quiet the storm within. Yet, the answers remained elusive, and you feared the consequences of voicing what lay buried deep in your heart.

"Do you have somethin' to tell me, doll?" he asked his question again and looked at you seriously. His eyes darkened slightly (or so it seemed to you) they looked like the sea before a storm and you could only flutter your fluffy eyelashes in shock and look at him. JJ shook his head and smiled, squeezing your hand. “'cause I have something to tell you.”

JJ grinned, sitting up on the bed and leaning back against the padded headboard. His grip tightened around your hand, refusing to let go even as he struggled to light a cigarette. But JJ needed that connection, needed to feel your warmth as he prepared to voice something he had been holding back for too long.

With a flick of the lighter, he finally ignited the cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he gathered his thoughts. His eyes, intense and focused on you, held a mix of determination and vulnerability.

“It's always in the back of my mind,” JJ said after taking a couple of puffs and dropping the ashes into the ashtray on the bedside table. His gaze was fixed forward. To where there was a photograph in a gilded frame on the dresser. He couldn't see the photo itself in the dark, he could only make out the outlines, but a picture of the day when he first met you was already forming in his head.

Bonfire. Another Kook's party blazing on the beach, a scene where Pogues had no place. Yet, JJ found himself there, compelled to settle the last of his debt to Topper for the broken boat. Striding back to his bike, ready to leave it all behind, he glimpsed you sitting on the damp sand, clutching a bottle of whiskey. Your hair was tousled and damp, droplets cascading down its length onto the sand, while your white dress, now soaked, revealed glimpses of your underwear. You were a mess. But a breathtaking mess unlike any other.

Normally, JJ would have walked right past. What concern was it of his if a Shark girl was brooding over some triviality on the beach beside a party? Yet, when you turned to meet his gaze, moonlight casting a gentle glow on your tear-streaked face, makeup smudged from the remnants of sorrow, and he met the emptiness in your eyes, he couldn't ignore your pain.

Without hesitation, he sat down beside you, typing a quick message to John B. that he wouldn't be coming, and spent the remainder of the night with you. It began with conversation on the beach, the words flowing freely under the starlit sky. But soon, it evolved into something deeper—JJ's fingers tracing the delicate contours of your skin, his ear attuned to the soft, sweet moans that escaped your lips, melodies he quickly grew addicted to.

That night, for the first time, JJ wondered if his past mistakes had somehow led him to this moment with you. If he could rewind would there be some butterfly effect? What if they never met? What if the stars never aligned?

"I don't know what love is, doll," JJ broke the silence again, exhaling cigarette smoke. You disliked it when he smoked in your room, but his voice held you spellbound, his touch on your hand anchoring you in the moment.

"You know, my mom left us when I was just a little shit, and my dad... well, he wasn't exactly a role model for love," JJ said with a sad smile, shaking his head. He felt your gentle squeeze in response, giving him the courage to continue. "I love the Pogues. They're like family to me. I love John B., feels like he's been my brother forever, but it's not... it's not that kind of love." JJ took another drag before stubbing out his cigarette. "No one taught me how to love. I didn't have a good example in front of me... that's why I became like this. Always on the move, not stopping for any girl, a bit of a womanizer, you name it."

He glanced down at your intertwined fingers, the ashtray now holding the remnants of his momentary escape. "And then you came along and turned my world upside down." JJ attempted a laugh, but his voice caught, and he fell silent, grappling with his emotions.

You sat down beside him, clutching the blue sheet to your chest, studying his profile intently. You observed the subtle movements: the clenching and unclenching of his jaw, the expansion of his nostrils with each deep breath, the tight line of his lips. You understood that words were never easy for him, and a part of you wanted to spare him the discomfort, to halt his struggle. But another part of you yearned to understand what he was trying to express. You needed clarity to calm the fluttering in your chest, to ensure that your hopeful heart wasn't misinterpreting his words. You didn't want to live with false hope.

As you watched him wrestle with his thoughts, your own emotions mirrored his turmoil. The closeness between you felt fragile yet profound, each heartbeat echoing the unspoken desire for honesty and understanding. The silence between you held a weight that words alone could not convey, a tension that bridged the distance between your souls.

“Hate to be lame but...” the world around you froze. Everything stopped. The clock stopped running. You stopped breathing. “But I might love you”

And the world came alive again. The clock continued to run. But you still weren't breathing and you were silent. JJ was looking at you intently, studying your expression, and with every second of your silence, he was ready to bury himself underground and die of shame. JJ Maybank confessed his feelings to a girl for the first time and you just sat and remained silent, looking at him with your big soft eyes, flapping your fluffy eyelashes and it drove him crazy, making him think that he just made up all the feelings on your part. When the silence continued, the guy released your hand and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to somehow remove the tension.

"Okeeey… Fine… You don't have to answer anything, you don't have to accept my feelings... I understand everything and so I'll just leave and..." JJ's voice trembled nervously, his words rushing out in a jumble. He hastily retrieved his briefs from the floor, turning his back to you as if preparing to depart.

It was in that fleeting moment, just as he was poised to leave, that you seized his wrist and drew him back towards you, your lips meeting in a fervent kiss. Emotions surged through you like fireworks on Independence Day, leaving no room for second thoughts. You needed to affirm to yourself that this was real—that JJ Maybank had indeed confessed his love to you, and that reality surpassed any dream.

As you broke away, breathless and panting, JJ's hands found your waist, his touch gentle against your skin. "Is this a goodbye kiss or...?" he managed between gasps, his eyes searching yours with a mix of uncertainty and longing.

"It's a hate-to-be-lame-but-I-love-you-too kiss," you chuckled softly, leaning your forehead against his, savoring the taste of your slightly swollen lips.

A moment of quiet enveloped you both before laughter bubbled forth, cascading into the air as you collapsed onto the bed. JJ hovered above you, his gaze tender as he watched you unwind, your laughter a melody that soothed his soul and pieced together the fragments of his life into a beautiful mosaic.

He brushed his lips against yours again, a feather-light kiss that spoke volumes of tenderness. "I love you... I love you... I love you," JJ whispered softly before claiming your lips once more.

In that sublime moment, amidst the warmth of JJ's embrace and the echo of his heartfelt words reverberating in your heart, you felt a profound sense of peace settle over you. The doubts and uncertainties that once clouded your mind were swept away by the overwhelming certainty of your love for him. You knew, without a shadow of doubt, that JJ Maybank was not just a passing infatuation or a fleeting romance. He was the anchor that grounded you, the light that guided you through the darkest nights.

And as the night embraced you in its tender hands, you surrendered to the beauty of your love story, knowing that with JJ Maybank by your side, you had found your home.

thankx for reading <3

okay, i have to say it right now, bc i think this is my fav jj work so far! and i hope you liked it too and you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

- your santi 🪐

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