#seeing how everyone has a different look on him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tojisteddy · 2 days ago

Text

Jumping The Gun

or: the one where John Price fucks the idea of marriage into you.

cw: 5.9k words (gawd DAMN), 18+ MDNI, klutz in love!Price, kinda toxic!Price, smut with plot, no use of y/n, dumbification, squirting, p in v, protected & unprotected sex, dubcon, dumbification, creampie, breeding kink, marathon!, water show, cum eating, engagement, reader!has tattoos, reader!is in denial of Egypt, Daddy said a couple times idk, john visuals, reader visuals,

a/n: My Whole Life by Alina Baraz *chefs kiss*

Everyone in the 141 was shocked when John Price came back after taking a month an a half off for leave with a golden ring on his ring finger, a new picture frame to place on his desk, and practically jumping off the roof to fill out more paperwork for a special someone. Again.

You were his third marriage.

John was good at making quick decisions, making up his mind at the exact right time when it was do or die. But the old man was a complete klutz when it came to love.

The first marriage, admittedly, was never gonna last long. He was fresh out of highschool, still in the infantry and married his highschool sweetheart. His parents were sceptical but supportive. It wasn’t uncommon to marry early, hell, his parents did so why couldn’t he?

It just wasn’t in the cards.

The distance and the worry was just too much. The divorce was clean cut since they didn’t have any kids and we’re still young. Him and his ex-wife, Cara, were still fairly close. He’d get a call from the woman and her husband (surprisingly) to come over for dinner every once in a while. No bad blood.

But that second marriage? John was a goddamn idiot.

Was it his fault he married with his eyes and not with his brain? Yes. A man is still a man at the end of the day. You see a woman with an amazing set of knockers on her, pretty blue eyes, skinny waist and blonde hair— you’d fall for it too!

She was obnoxious, loud, and always, always, always needed new clothes, shoes, hair and nails done. Now John had no problem spending on his woman, he’d bring down Jupiter if had to. The problem was she complained and whined. Complained about the clothes not being ‘high quality enough,’ the house not being big enough, the brand new convertible not pink enough. Whined when she went over the already pricey budget the man set for her, that she couldn’t spend his life savings on her, that John was too hairy, ran too warm, too tall—no fucking sense.

He got out of the marriage by the scrape of his teeth, lucky that his siblings convinced him to get a prenup. She left with no pounds to her name, shoving all her belongings in that hot pink convertible and crying that no money went to her when the captain had sold the house.

But you? Oh you. His honey, sweet girl, little wanderer— you were the real deal.

John was walking with a couple friends heading to some bar a few hours after being back in the UK. You were walking the opposite direction, bags from different stores after a day of shopping in your hand. You looked like a model, long black trench coat on, a fitted baby blue crop top, black leather shorts that showed off the tattoos that went down your legs, slouched heeled boots that went mid calf. Curls blowing in the wind, you thankfully hadn’t noticed the hairy fellow till you bumped into him.

“You alright?”

Your brown eyes met his blue ones as he steadied you upright. You were awe struck, as if you were meeting a famous person on the street but you had just ran into a good looking older, muscular, brunette with a few stray grey hairs. You slowly started nodding, laughing aloud at yourself at how dumb you probably looked. “ ‘M just fine.” You said breathlessly.

You started to hear the passing cars, bustle of the streets and the murmur from your phone as your friend on the line was calling out to you. “Shit, I-I gotta go.”

And your feet was guiding you away without another word but your eyes were still glued to the man as you walked away. Looking back as he watched you walk away. You chuckles as you got back on the phone with your friend, disappearing into the croud.

The second time he saw you he was heading for a tea, as he walked past ‘Walker Travel Agency.’ John glanced inside and there a woman sat— no— you, sat turning in your chair towards the computer as you spoke to someone through your Bluetooth. You were dressed in an oversized white button up, black slacks, hair now pin straight in a low ponytail, pinned back by a few purple clips with very a light blush on your cheeks.

Even dressed casually, you were a sight for sore eyes. He tried his best not to look like a creep as he finally went to go get his tea but his eyes were glued to you as he walked past the office again. He figured it was fine just this once. Twice, three times— okay, maybe a forth that was completely out of the way of the military base and his own home but this was fine.

He was just getting tea after all.

But the forth time you stood by the water cooler sipping water, you caught those blue eyes. A small smile formed on your face as he tripped a bit once he saw you finally looking back at him. You gave him a small, shy wave with your fingers before he completely passed the building. Your angelic smile growing wider as he passed the building again to get to his car.

And that continued for another week, waves and smiles and stupid blushes that made his heart jump outs until he finally got the courage to pop his head in. He’d just say hello, this was a silly crush. Nothing more, nothing less.

The doorbell chimed once the door opened and you immediately sat straight in your chair, as you were trained to do when a potential customer came in.

“I was thinking of a trip?”

No he wasn’t. He knew that, you knew that by the way he was completely dressed in military attire and kept staring at you instead of the posters of different vacation spots on the wall. But you nodded your head, gesturing for him to take a seat in front of your desk.

“Where would you like to go sir?”

You two hit it off after that. John would pop his head in, leaving thirty minutes before his lunch break even started just to get his little dose of you, before running off to get a tea. You even started making tea so he didn’t have to go to the coffee shop.

Right, it was his lunch break?

You’d made sure to start packing lunch for two and arranging meetings so your lunch break was suddenly at the same time as his. You didn’t know why you did it for your new friend, it just felt right. You made that forty something year old man feel like a teenager again, he couldn’t just sit on this crush forever. He wouldn’t.

*Care to join me for a pint after work?*

A simple text that he’d debated on for two days had him flushed.

*new message*

Don’t usually drink beer :(

Two days down the drain. Maybe he should’ve asked for dinner instead? Or a movie? A walk? Too fucking causal—

*new message*

but if you’re the one asking, how can I say no?

text me where baby :))

Gaz had to make sure he wasn’t sick before he left work that day because he was as red as a cherry tomato.

You laid it out clean to John that you weren’t ready for a relationship.

“ ‘M too flighty ya see.”

“How so?” You two had already been in the crowded pub at a booth, you’d been chatting for 3 hours already senselessly. One pint for each of you, you weren’t good with beer while John just didn’t wanna make a drunken mistake.

“I told you I’ve just been here for a year, right?”

He hummed, nodding for you to continue.

“Well I was in Brazil before that, Osaka for a couple months before that. DR, LA and France before all that.”

“Oh, you’re a real traveler I see.”

“More than you.” You smirked and John laughed, “Think you can beat me sweetheart? Been all over the world ‘nd back. Thrice over.”

You teased, “I can beat’cha soon enough, just wait on it.” You sighed, picking up your half empty glass to take a sip, “But really, a relationship right now is a no-can-do for me. I’d hate to waste yer time after you’ve been so kind t’me honey.”

“Not a single moment with you has been a waste’ve time, believe me [+].” It was gentle but stern, your fingers brushed over the table which made your heart race faster.

John was too sweet, sinkingly so. It made you question how his marriages didn’t work sometimes but you kept your mouth shut about it. You gave him a smile, “I wouldn’t mind bein fuck buddies though.”

His thick eyebrows furrowed together, “Oh John come on now, you ain’t that old!”

Friends who fucked, he knew what it was. But with you? Someone that he’d grown to care for? This was a line he preferred not to cross.

But damn, those brown eyes under the dim light, the mid length blow out that went just below your shoulders, your long sleeve flared blouse that showed off your cleavage just right, wasn’t helping. He hadn’t even realized he’d given you a ‘sounds good to me’ before you gave him an okay and went on to another topic as if you two hadn’t just agreeded to be sex partners.

The night came to a close around 10:50, John didn’t want you at the station by yourself late at night since you were a woman so he took you home.

“I’m a grown woman, John.” You insisted for the thousandth time.

“Yer a grown woman that ‘m drivin home. Exactly. Yer right.” John nodded along with you nonchalantly and you groaned into a giggling fit, no longer being able to fight with him over this.

You pulled up to your apartment and pointed out a parking spot, John followed suit. Thinking you’d probably rather get out of a parked car than hold up traffic on a Friday night.

You got out the car, looking between your apartment building and the older man.

“You wanna come up?”

John fucking Price was a god damn problem.

The first time you two fucked, was just to dip your toes in. See if the older man could handle you, keep up with what you were up to.

The second time was for good measure. You had to make sure it wasn’t an illusion! Get your bearings in order.

The third time— looking back you should’ve known that’s when he caught you. And I mean really had you for good because you’d be damned if he was fucking some other girl the way he was fucking you.

You had to have a cordial briefing with your friend group, explaining to them how you were now a born again Christian because John didn’t just have you seeing stars. No— you saw Jesus resurrecting from the tomb, legs shaking as they were wrapped around his hips. Chest to chest, as John knelt on the bed, fucking up into you through your orgasm. You’d pushed yourself away from him but he snatched you up just before you passed out.

“Stay with me lovie, can’t have you passin out on me can I?” His pink lips connected with your neck again. Your entire body was trembling. This fool, this barbarian, loooved making you a dummy on his dick. You’d learned that the second time. But this time, fuck, it was strange.

“Strange, baby, it feels- mmph s-strange.” You mumbled through a moan, you were limp as he held onto your waist with one arm, bouncing you just the way he needed you to. He was practically using you as a sex toy and you hadn’t minded. You were drooling on his shoulder and down your own face and that freak kept lapping it up. Opening your mouth so he could spit it back in you and suck on your tongue.

“Your tight little cunt squeezing me so good. You love when I suck your tongue, don’t you pretty?”

Your eyes were rolling into each other again, “loooove it sooooo much Daddy.”

“Come on, kiss me while I give it to you.” He didn’t have to tell you twice to get your lips to latch onto his. John kissed so romantic like, slow, desperate— like he was trying to mold the two of you together and you loved it. John’s thrusts got fast, barley pulling out with every swing of his hips up into your tight walls. But he kept hitting your g-spot, clit rubbing right at the bottom of his hairy abdomen. It felt amazing— too amazing—

You yankied yourself away from him again, “wait! ‘M serious- J- fuuuck- John! It’s too weird! I’m- shit- ‘m gonna pee!”

“ ‘S not pee, let it go.” He gruffed, groaning at how good you felt around his swelling cock.

“It isssss!” You whined out, slapping at his arms but he wouldn’t let up.

“Come on sweet girl, squirt all over me. Wanna be covered in you.”

And the crash came, water works flying every which way and your eyes. John came right after you, babbling about how good you were, how amazing you felt around him. But you were crying real tears now, you swore you just peed all over this older man’s thighs even though you told him it was weird. It was humiliating.

“I told you I was gonna pee, ‘nd you didn’t listen!” You hiccuped, covering your face as John laid you back on the bed. He’s eyebrow lifted as he slipped out of you, removing the filled condom and examining the situation that was now on his pudgy stomach, his thighs, your legs and the bed.

“Sweetie,” he started chuckling at how cute were being, you shoved one of your wobbly legs at his chest. It didn’t do any damage. “Have you never squirted before?”

“No,” you sniffled, “ ‘s just pee!”

“ ‘S not the same thing lovie.”

“Yes it issss!” You retorted, going to kick him again but your own leg giving up on you.

John rubbing your thighs as he got inbetween them. Your pussy was glistening in the rooms light, too mesmerized, he let the pads of two fingers take a swipe of all the juices that sat on your vulva and putting it in his mouth. He moaned at the taste.

You gasped, “John!” You hadn’t meant to see the sight through your fingers but shit, it was making you even more wet. The older saw you squirm, shaking his head, he needed a front row seat this time. He lifted your thighs over his shoulders so his mouth was right in front of your cunt.

“Gotta feel it on my tongue baby, won’t you? Please?”

You two went on like that, calling each other whenever you needed. You were always the first to know when the Captain got home, before his own family, because he’d have his fat cock in you by the time you could finish saying ‘welcome back.’

John couldn’t lie and say it was inconvenient getting to let off steam other than exercising or taking a swing of bourbon. It didn’t help that you were actually such a sweet girl, he loved being around. You two would hang out when you had the chance, going out and about or just watching a movie at home. When you were out, all dolled up in a mid thigh, navy blue sun dress and white heels showed off your heels, curls in a high ponytail— you two looked like a sugar daddy and a sugar baby. But you never cared about the looks people gave you, you’d grab his larger hand in yours that was freshly manicured with long soft yellow nails and swing your hands back and forth. Even taking the time to properly introduce the man properly when you ran into your friends on the street.

“He’s a real carin, smart and just all around incredible guy I swear,” Your eyes would beam at him, so longingly then back to your friends and back to John because you always found yourself getting lost in his pretty ocean blue eyes. “I’m real thankful to have met a man like him.”

How could he have not fallin for you?

It was when you and John accidentally ran into his parents while casually hanging out in his home town he knew he just had to marry you.

You were as charismatic as ever, your southern charm easily pulling them in. John thought for sure they’d be more careful since you were younger than the past two women that John brought to meet them. But despite how eccentric you looked in your shorts that hung off your hips, waist beads around your stomach, crop top and the tattoos that his parents generation definitely weren’t used to, layered necklaces and bracelets— they easily fell for you just like he did.

“You sure ‘bout takin them out for lunch, [+]? You don’t have to.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling out of the parking spot and onto the road.

“It’s only right to treat the folks who raised you John. They’ve done well with you, ‘nd ‘m sure your siblings ‘re just as kind. Plus I kinda wanna see more of your smile through your mom. It’s sooo fuckin cute.”

Yup.

That was right there confirmed, he was gonna put a ring on that fuckin finger. He could’ve blurted it out while at that quaint little lunch you had. His parents adored you, even got your number down to give you a call if you needed anything while you were still in the UK.

The man was gonna get you to stay in the UK.

The first time he’d asked, it was too fucking casual. Again, the man was always too eager. Tripping and falling through love was a bad habit of his. You’d laughed in his face.

“John, baby, please be serious.” You threw your braids up in a ponytail, tip toeing around the room to get your clothes. John did that on purpose, the old man always wanted a little more time with you, to see the sunrise kissing your skin perfectly as that after glow of sex looked gorgeous on you.

He’d pout under that thick beard, fuckin precious bear, “ ‘M bein serious. Want us t’get married, be happy.”

“Don’t you leave next week John?”

“So?”

You deadpanned, “John.”

Okay, he was too eager that time. He should’ve thought it though. Right, you deserved proper proposal planning. Not some random after sex question. You made your way over to that big guy, he was still naked, sitting on the bed with his feet on the floor. You bent over, that same gleam in your brown eyes that shown every time you looked at him. He could’ve fuckin melted right then and there as you placed your hands on his knees, leaving a long a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips.

“You call me if ya need anything John. I mean it, even if it’s those fuckin cookies-“

“—Biscuits—“

“—Whateverrr~” you giggled, lightly touching his beard as John took your waist in his hands. Shit, he’d miss you. Miss your kindness, your willingness to drop everything for him, those long lashes that fluttered when you woke up. “I’ll send ‘em yer way, letter ‘f course too. Whatever ya need, John, you let me know.”

With the softest kiss on the lips, you were on your merry way just as you usually were.

The second time John proposed, he did it right.

He had a proper ring. Simple, because you loved simple. The box was in his pants pocket the entire night, itching to get out. You went to a nice fancy dinner to a place you swore you’d only told him once about, took you for a nice stroll, your curls in a half up, half down, dress hugging you just right and John was in a dressy casual. Ultra simple, classic. He was sure he’d get a yes this time.

He hadn’t even gotten the chance to get on he knee before you’d grab his hands. Your bottom lip trembling.

“Sweetheart…”

“Need you tuh listen t’me baby, please.” You pleaded, tears already threatening to burst out like a dam.

“Now I care ‘boutcha so much John. So much that I hate myself fer puttin you in a situation like this.” You sniffled, squeezing his hand to reassure him.

“But ya can’t marry me.” John lamented.

“John—“

“—what is it then? Is it the age gap? I thought you’d gotten over it.”

“John-“ “-clothes? I’ll give it to you. Want me to shave? Done. Love? I’ve got multitudes. If it’s money- it’s yours.” He was racking his brain for something, anything that could’ve draw you to keep him near.

“I don’t want your money John.” You cursed.

“Then what do you want?! Why can’t I give it to you?!”

“I want your happiness above all else John! But I can’t-“ your voice croaked. You let go of his hands, “I can’t give that back to ya. I know I can’t.”

“Tha’s a fuckin lie—“

“—I’m sorry John. Truly.”

Without another word, you’d ran off. Your heals clicking against the pavement, cries heard through the silent park.

You’d known John for a year but technically only about 5 months since he was away for the other seven. But you knew so much about him, he’d send letters whenever he could, call, text and be right with you when he was back because it ‘felt like the place he needed to be’. It wasn’t a shock that John had grown to love you, it was a shock that you’d grown to love him too.

It scared the living shit out of you.

So you did what you always did.

Move.

It never took you long, you always had a storage unit ready, a few cardboard boxes in the back of your closet, a new job to hire you in another country because you always knew a little bit of the language. But this time you didn’t move far enough, you didn’t have to heart to. If John were to call you right now, you would’ve dropped what you were doing and ran to him.

Which is why you blocked him on everything (even though he didn’t use social media that often).

You moved yourself to the countryside, in a much smaller apartment but in a much quieter town by the sea. You were working the front of a fish market, did you know about fish? No. Did they hire you because you were pretty and your endless list of credentials at other random places on your resume? Yes. You didn’t have a problem with blending right in, building peoples trust with ease.

It was a good and bad habit.

John on the other hand was loosing his mind because he didn’t know where the hell you were. He couldn’t call you, couldn’t text you, and you weren’t replying to his letters. Fuck, the man called his parents and they managed to get an answer but only vague answers.

He’d come to you flat after being away, rushing through (but properly taken care of) a mission because he needed to make sure you were alright. As he rung thr buzzer, he got no answer. He was lucky one of your neighbors came out and told him what had happened.

How could you have moved without telling him, of all people?

It hurt him more than anything to have a mishap like that happen and then not be able to contact you. But to move? With no explanation?

He could play cat and mouse.

He’d play it constantly in the 141, taking down terrorists and the like in less than a couple weeks— you’d be an easy find. He was sure of it.

He’d found you soon enough, a couple days, in that god damn fish market, a wide smile on your face as you talked to the multiple people who crowded the stall where you worked. Why were you working here of all places?

He ignored the growing concerns, joining the line of customers at the stall. Most of the customers having something to say to you and you encouraging more conversation as they made their orders and paid. Then it was his turn. He took a step forward and you looked up at him like you’d seen a ghost. Your heart dropped out of your ass. He looked to the fish that sat on display on ice, then to you and titled his head.

“When do you get off?”

“John-“

“-When.” The older man spoke tightly. It came out more like a statement than a question.

The lady who worked with you, Malissa, chimed in with a knowing smile, “Give ‘er an hour.”

Your eyes widened at the older woman whilst John gave her a pleased look, “I’ll be around.” John left the building and you felt your stomach turn over. You glared at Malissa and she laughed at you, “But it’s love, isn’t it [+]?”

Was it that obvious?

Couldn’t have been. As if the blush showed on your brown cheeks. You gave him the same smile you did everyone else, didn’t you? The same kindness, same glances you snuck, soft touches, and the same brushing of fingers. The way you held onto that man’s arm as you presented him to your friends like a trophy, you did the same to anyone else you admired, right? Right?

No fucking way you did. John was the one, well, situation you fully committed to head first. And you didn’t even know when that happened, you liked the thought of someone romantically caring for you, the kindness and joy that was always a package deal when being in that guys presence. Someone that took you and your hopes and dreams serious for once in your life.

Oh God, you were in deep love with John Price.

You could’ve been thrown across the field by your own heart pounding so loud when you walked out of the market. John sitting on the bench, cigar between his fingers, watching the passersbyers and then at you. He stood, nodding for you to follow him in some direction.

“Let’s take a walk.”

The tension was too damn high. You could feel it through the air as you too walked, the only sound being made was the sound of you feet on pavement, the jingle of keys, the sea in the distance. Your curls were probably a mess now, the cold air blowing every which way.

“How’ve you been?” You tried cutting through the ice, eyes finding anything else to look at.

John paused for a moment, a sigh coming out, “I didn’t think you hated me enough to block me [+].”

You winced, as if it pained you to hear those words alone. “I could never hate you John.”

“Then why-“ another frustrated sigh, “You switched jobs to avoid me!”

You squinted your eyes, “Why would you wanna see me after that John!? There was nothing more to say. I was trying to make your life easier!”

“And why would life be easier without you?” His eyebrows furrowed, hand on his hip. He kept rubbing his face.

You opened your mouth to say something, try to get out of the mess you made but nothing would come out. John wanted to laugh at this but it’s not like it would be genuine. Scoffing, he flicked the end of the cigar to the ground. You were like a Hurricane, create a mess to keep people away but right at the center, there was a serene calm. Only soft winds. You didn’t know what you were doing with yourself. John, saw that.

“I’ll take you home.”

“I can walk from here though.”

John gently took your hand in his, looking down at you with sincerity in his blue eyes. “You know how I feel about you bein alone like this. Let me take you home.”

It didn’t take much convincing, it was just a short 5 minute drive from the hills you stood now to your flat. John opened the door to the car for you, making sure you were safely tucked in before slamming it shut and getting in the drivers side. He drove off, down to the main road but then passed the street you had pointed out.

“Where we going?”

“Home.”

“But my place is-“

“—[+], please.” His jaw was clenched, gripping the wheel and your thigh. “You hate it so much, you yell to the rooftops that ya hate me. Despise every breath I breathe. I’ll stop right now.”

Like you would. You huffed, crossing your arms and looking out the window.

John didn’t get irritated easy. Patience was a vertue, that’s what his parents told him all the time. After two marriages you’d think the man would’ve learned by now.

But the man was starving for you, aching to have you say you were his and he was yours after all this and you still not knowing what you wanted— he’d make the decision for you.

You would be his wife and you two were getting married.

The thought of John being mean hadn’t crossed your mind once.

John Price who was usually so gentle, tapping your thigh so you could move yourself in whatever position he wanted you in, grabbing pillows so it would be easier on you, always checking if you were alright every take you reached you high.

That was not the John you were dealing with right now. He was manhandling however he wanted, both hands on your ass cheeks, legs over his arms, slamming you up and down on his cock and letting you cum over and over. Till he had enough of you in that position and fucked you right on the floor, your back getting carpet burn in front of the bedroom door that you didn’t get the chance to close.

And fuck, you thought it was heavenly before, him raw was otherworldly. You felt every ridge, every vein, every twist of his throbbing manhood, every once of precum that made your walls even wetter than they already were.

“Gonna fill you up-“

“—John- mmm- you can’t-“

He grunted, swatting your hands that tried to push him away.

“Gonna fill ya up like a good husband should,” the man’s nodding at his own words, already pussy drunk. But he was speaking words that he’s held back for months. “gotta getcha ready for when we have a baby.”

You hiccuped, John was talking crazy. A baby? A marriage? With John? And he’s whispering it all in your ear. This was tooooo much— too full—

“John i-it’s too deep! I- shit- gimmie a second—“

He pouted, fucking pouted, as if he didn’t know he was pushing his fat, veiny, cock to the fucking hilt of you. Your ankles somehow at the back of your head, “Can’t ya see it baby? You, waddlin around with our baby inside you-“ John hissed, you just kept clenching around him perfectly everytime he thrusted into his “-In a new house- haaah— after we broken it in ‘f course. Gotta break it in for good- fuckin- measure. Little ones running around, an office for daddy ‘nd a office for mummy— It’ll be perfect.”

You didn’t even realize you were cumming, your ears were just ringing, cunt contracting around Johns dick like you were aching for it.

You’d never in your life had a man cum inside you, but my God. John, this old barbarian, was gonna get you addicted to each and every single shot of cum that came from his leaking tip that reached inside your deepest place.

“Fuck, gotta give you another baby.”

John was determined to fuck you into delerium, you’d pass out after cumming so much and wake up to John sucking his cum out of you. Water breaks? The older man is sipping it and putting it in your mouth. Felt stuffy in the bedroom? No problem, John’s moving you to the bathroom to fuck you there with your leg propped up on the bath tub, the wall in the hallway looked like it was missing your face being pressed into it as John drilled you from behind.

Hungry? John’s feeding you whatever he cooked up the thirty minutes he’d left your bruised pussy alone, and then having you cock warm him in the fucking kitchen. All while kissing all over you, how you were such a pretty wife on his dick.

“We gonna get married John?” You slurred out, sticking your thumb in his mouth then sticking it in yours and moaning at the taste. Sweet.

You were fucked out, if the man said he was gonna max out your cards right now he could’ve. But you were, in fact, his finance. Right then and there, no one could convince you otherwise.

“S-Say that again sweetheart?”

You gripped the back of his neck your your hand, getting him to look at you head on, pecking his lips once. Twice. Three times, “You said you’d make me your wife, you’d really do that John? Make me a wife? Won’t get tired of me?”

“Oh birdie, h-how could I ever get tired of you? I-I’m in love you you.”

“Really? I love- I love yooouu John.” Your hips practically rolled on their own, the captain throwing his head back against the headboard for dear life.

“Fuck mee lovie— whatever you want, whateverrr you fucking want.” His hands found your hips, guiding you just the way you needed to get off. Slow, mean— loving.

“G-god, so amazin, amazin John! Wan’ a chapel wedding -ngghh- You, me, some rings and that fuckin preist,”

“ ‘F course baby, course.” John was stammering out words, he could barley keep up now. Fuck, rings. Those fucking rings— “wait baby, gimmie a second.”

“But John,” you keened, hating the idea of being apart for even a millisecond. Oh you’d be the death of that old man. And he wouldn’t’ve minded dying in your sopping cunt knowing you wanted to marry him.

He’d marry you from hell if he had to.

He reached out to the nightstand, an arm hooked around your waist to keep you close as you sloppily rode him, fumbling to grab the black box he placed there yesterday.

Some how he managed to get that box open, two golden rings sat inside. He grabbed yours, tossing the box to the side and slipping the ring on the proper finger.

“Oh! It’s sooo pretty John!” You moaned, eyes stuck to the ring, heart eyes practically forming in your pupils as you looked at the man who was balls deep inside you.

“Come on wife, you know how to cum for your future husband don’t you?”

“You keep looking at it.”

“ ‘S just so nice John.”

It was a single gold ring that fit your finger perfectly, the matching one that you asked to put on John once woke you up. You two were completely knocked out after two days of going at it like animals. You couldn’t feel your legs and your voice was an inch off from being shot. But you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. You loved being engaged, you loved John, and you loved the thought of a future with him.

“You wanna have a small wedding, don’t you?” John entangled your fingers together, his other hand caressing your thighs. The sunshine was shining through the window of the dim room.

“I’d prefer if it was just you ‘nd me. We can do somethin with your family later. I-I think it’ll be real intimate ‘f it’s just us. Like the movies-“

The older man’s eyes crinkled, “Oh, so you’ve thought about it?”

You scuffed, “I’d be silly not to think about marryin you at least once, John.”

Price opened his mouth, feeling more than shy at his grown age. He stuttered, “No take backs, alright? You gotta marry me now.”

You hooked your ring finger with his John’s matching one, giving it a quick kiss.

“No take backs.”

a/n: it’ll be a miracle if anyone even reads all this. if you did, leave me a message or comment if you liked it or if you hated it pls I wanna hear your thoughts.

#tojisteddy presents #john price x y/n #john price smut #cod smut #price x y/n #captain john price #john price x reader #price cod #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 #call of duty #john price #john price cod #toxic!price #john price fanfiction #cod x reader #black reader #modern warfare

665 notes · View notes

ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat · 2 days ago

Text

california gurls - spencer reid x fem!reader

reader's beach partying gets interrupted by the fbi... she finds a way to make it fun when she realizes a cute doctor is around and so is her jeep

genre: smut wc: 2133 warnings: early seasons spencer, subbish!spencer, he whimpers, reader wears a bikini, mentioned rapist and murderer, mentions of harassment, reader has been with asshole men, reader has a jeep, car sex, unprotected sex, reader is on birth control, brief nipple play a/n: based off california gurls by katy perry!!

California is absolutely a cliché. Sunkissed skin, bikinis, Daisy Dukes. The golden coast holds parties–like this one–scantily clad girls and slurring morons that look exactly how every other frat boy looks. Here you are, representing that very image. With your red bikini and sand-covered feet, you’re the epitome of a California girl.

In the corner of your eye are palm trees, under which are several tanning ladies. Boys are practically drooling, necks craned to get a peek. Speakers play pop that seems to move everyone–including you. Bodies splash in sparkling blue, hips rock to the rhythm. The music booms. That is until it comes to an abrupt stop.

You look over to see a group of men in sunglasses approaching, one of them evidently responsible for the music-murdering due to his apologetic shrug. He’s obviously not that sorry. Male voices seem offended by it.

The one that turned off the fun stands tall, a black man that–if you didn’t know any better–you’d say was from around here. Another is shorter and older. The one you find most interesting, however, is tall and scrawny, with hair curling around his ears and a permanent nervous smile. To be completely honest, it’s cute. If you could see beneath his sunglasses, you’re sure you’d find overwhelmed eyes bouncing between each tanned body.

The big one–the black one–lifts credentials from his belt.

“Listen, we’re with the FBI. There’s been a string of rapes and murders in the area and we have reason to believe that the UnSub has been here. He might even be one of you.”

Someone–you’re not sure who–raises a hand and asks, “UnSub?”

“Unknown Subject. Bad guy. Perp. You get the idea.” He takes off his eyewear and hooks it in his shirt. “I’m Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan. This here is Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi and,” he points to the cute one, “Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Dr. Spencer Reid awkwardly waves before crossing his arms, lips pressed in a tight line. You wonder what kind of doctor he is and if you should pretend to faint.

“We’ll be asking you questions one by one,” Rossi explains.

Quickly, without even a moment to think, you’re split into groups. One for each agent. To your absolute joy, you’re waiting your turn to get evaluated by the only one labeled doctor. You get closer and can hear the helpless way he asks his questions. With the girls, it’s awkward like he doesn’t know how to talk to girls wearing so little. With the guys, he seems to be keeping a distance. He analyses them–for good reason–but he also seems nervous because he knows the type. He knows the difference between them. To be more precise, he knows how they treat guys like him.

You’re the last in the long line.

When you get to Spencer, you’re pleased when his eyes flick over you before he swallows.

“Hey,” he starts with a tight grin, “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.” You tell him your name. He smiles that same awkward smile.

“Uh, right, so… the guy we’re looking for is socially skilled, arrogant, easily aggravated, and will most likely be bold with the way he talks to women, becoming hostile when turned down.”

It’s not in the least appropriate but, in-between gawking at him, you laugh. “Unfortunately, that sounds like every guy out here.”

His perfect brown eyebrows pull together. “Really?”

You nod. Now, up close, your eyes trace his figure, taking in the grey shirt, blue tie and the gun on his hip. It’s weirdly attractive. You wonder when you started being attracted to authority.

“I guess guys around here aren’t gentlemen,” you shrug.

“And girls actually date them?”

Something about the shock in his eyes and the scowl on his lips makes you swoon. “Guess so.”

“What about–uh–harassment? Is there any of that?” Spencer looks down at you.

Shrugging, you sigh, “sometimes. Usually just frat boys. Nothing extreme. Sometimes the gross ones might try too hard. We’ve all been there.”

His lips part and he nods at your answer. Surprisingly, those pretty brown eyes trickle down your body, mapping out each and every curve with a purpose, as if to memorize. The idea of him locking you away only to take back out when he’s alone turns you on more than you’d care to admit. It’s flattering to think you’re that interesting.

It could also be wishful thinking.

But that could be tested.

More specifically, that could be tested by one sentence. That sentence being, “do you want to go to my car? It’s cooler in there. You know?”

After what could only ever be described as a brain short-circuit, Spencer clears his throat and hums a squeaky, “yeah.”

A delighted smile forms on your face as you nod, taking a few steps back to your Jeep. You unlock it, opening the door and leaning over to put the key in the ignition. Spencer’s eyes fall on your ass in the tight, red fabric. You hear him clear his throat behind you before you straighten up. But he’s much closer to you than anticipated.

Chest-to-chest, you look up at him, eyes wide and cheeks burning hot not because of the sun. A rough swallow and then a quick glance to your breasts proves that maybe the attraction isn’t unrequited. He wets his lips and you’re sure you can’t hold back.

Inappropriately, sloppily, and with force, your lips crash together. You hold yourself up only with your hands on the back of his head. And it’s not like you expected any less with lips like his, but he’s an amazing kisser. It’s messy, sure, but it’s hot, your teeth clumsily clacking together every time your mouths open. Only, he doesn’t seem to be enjoying it as much as he wants to be.

“This isn’t–” he huffs into your mouth, hands finding your shoulders. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Although you know it’s true–he’s supposed to be questioning you not sticking his tongue down your throat–you really don’t care. “Why not?”

“I–I’m not here to–” He takes a frustrated breath. “I’m not here for this… reason.”

You almost wish he wasn’t so perfect but it kind of made it better. When your lips press against his this time, he moans and you’re right back where you started. You think he doesn’t really want to say no. He just knows he should.

You look up at him, your eyes wide and doe-like. Like a little girl capable of begging for a lollipop, you frown. “Please?”

A rough gulp. An exhale. A nod.

Lips reconnect and you’re soon enough in the front seat, on his lap, fingers curling in his gelled hair and cheeks bright red. The door haphazardly shut, you hold onto the handle for balance. Your hips start moving in circles as his tongue dives into your mouth. The prettiest whine falls from him as his hands finally move to your bare waist. One of those hands drift down to the string of your bottoms.

He breaks the kiss and his sickeningly deer-like eyes find yours. “C–Can I?” Spencer mutters carefully. His eyes shine, sparkles of lust floating over the hazel.

“Yeah,” you breathe shakily. Bobbing your head, you lean back as little as you can while still giving him room. But, what you weren’t expecting was him not taking off the fabric. Instead of untying the string and letting it fall down to show off your already wet center, he slides the inadequate polyester to the side, revealing your core.

The way his steady–but honestly heavy–breathing hitches and turns whiny makes you clench. Like handling the finest porcelain, his index and middle finger drag between your folds before reaching a settlement on your ready clit.

A long, pleased sigh leaves you as your hips resume their messy pattern of rocking. He can’t choose between watching you slide across his fingers or your lips part in ecstasy. The feeling of him touching you is heaven but you want something else. At this very moment, you’d crawl, bare, to the ends of the earth for him to please you the way you want.

Oddly steady fingers find his belt. The clanging it makes flips your stomach. You pull his pants down just enough to reach into his purple boxers. A whimper slips out of his mouth as you take him out.

He’s big, pale and pink at the tip. Thin but the perfect length, however. His nails dig into your waist.

You press your forehead against his and slide your hand up and down his length. “I don’t have–uh–any condoms in here but I’m on birth control and I’m clean.”

Spencer’s lips part, an uneven whimper leaving them. “I’m clean, too.”

You release him and position yourself. The tip of his cock brushes through you before you set him at your entrance. His grip on your waist never lets up as you start to lower.

An embarrassingly loud moan slips out of you. You take him to the hilt. Inch by inch until he’s reaching so deep you can’t think. To hide how disgustingly far you’re being stretched, your mouth meets his messily. He takes in your bottom lip and devours it. It’s when you can’t stop yourself that you pull back and put your heads together.

You lift yourself up until only the last inch of him is still inside. You’re sure you’ll have perfect indents left on your skin from his fingernails. You slam your hips back down quicker than you should.

His panicked voice rings high-pitched in the hot car, “i–it’s been a while, I might not last–”

Part of you is glad because you know you won’t either. “That’s okay. That’s–that’s really okay,” you pant.

You revel in the way he whimpers with each movement of your hips. You revel in how pink his cheeks are and the way his eyes can’t stay off your chest no matter how hard they try. You revel even more in how wide they go when you pull the string of your top and let it fall. One of his hands you take, bringing it up. He rolls the sensitive flesh between his fingers as you start a rhythm.

You’re unrelenting, body moving quick because you can’t get enough of how good it feels to have him so deep. It’s bad for you to be feeling him twitch inside you. It makes you lightheaded.

Spencer’s neediness comes in the form of him thrusting up to meet you every time. With one rough thrust, his cock hits your innermost point forcefully and you whine, bringing his lips back to yours. Tongues sloppily collide with no grace. Moans are exchanged while you roll your hips back and forth. In a momentary rush of confidence, his hands move to your hips.

And then your ass.

He’s uncertain why he would do such a thing because now he’s fighting back his orgasm, his length throbbing against your cervix.

Luckily, you’re in the same place. Your walls flutter each time he brushes your sweet spot. Each time he mutters an expletive.

It seems he’s the one to break first, however.

“I don’t think I can–”

You mumble breathlessly, “me, neither, it’s okay.”

Sweat runs down your chest as you pant out desperate moans with each intake of needed oxygen. That knot builds in your gut–a feeling that’s rarely due to a man. You suppose he’s a separate being than the regular assholes around. When his fingers find your clit again, you’re sure. Spencer’s whimpering turns into heavy exhales and you take that as your cue to swiftly tell him not to pull out.

Droopy eyes meet his before you firmly mutter, “inside.”

He sighs shakily and nods.

A few more times of his cock hitting your cervix has both of your orgasms hurtling towards you. Your forehead falls onto his shoulder. His hips slam into yours and you’re coming instantly. Your walls clench around him, triggering his own release effortlessly. His cum drips down your thighs, creating a sure mess.

Words–swears–that make no sense fall from your swollen and parted lips.

“Oh, my God,” Spencer whispers–mostly to himself.

Eyes blown wide and legs cramping, you concur with a soft, “yeah.”

Hesitantly and with great despair, he mutters, “I should really get back to my team…” What follows is a guilty gulp.

You nod and maneuver yourself off of him. You ignore the irritating sensation of the emptiness after being so full. The only thing wrong is that, in moving, you accidentally honk the horn with your ass. Twice.

Half mortified and half amused, you giggle. Your cheeks flush red.

You believe it’s appropriate to assume that his team definitely knows what–or rather who–he spent his paid time doing.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x self insert

448 notes · View notes

goreandbunnies · 3 days ago

Text

❝ 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚛!𝚂𝚞𝚔𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 ➺

Inspired by @sweetlandspos ‘s fanart ♡

Part 1 | Part 2

Dealer!Sukuna who’s a notorious frat boy on campus. Everyone goes to him for a fix or some fun. He’s invited to every single party, that’s where you meet him.

Dealer!Sukuna who notices you after a moment and sees how lonely you seem to be, on your own, in a corner, so he approaches you, smirking, to offer you something to have some fun.

Dealer!Sukuna who immediately loves how nervous you are around him. He responds with teasing to every small shake of your head when he proposes you share a joint with him.

Dealer!Sukuna who still places the joint between his plump lips, dragging your attention on how soft and warm they look. The corner of that damn mouth slightly tilts upward, causing you to look away, blushing.

Dealer!Sukuna who hands you his pink lighter and asks you for help lighting up his joint. You fumble with it, struggling to spark a flame with trembling hands when you eventually succeed and lift it to his face.

Dealer!Sukuna who wraps both his big, warm hands around yours and brings the lighter to the end of his joint. His eyes are on yours, observing your reactions as he inhales a couple of times, holding onto your hand still.

Dealer!Sukuna who eventually lets go, reluctantly, but stays next to you, unable to go back to the rest of the crowd. He leans against the wall next to you, making small talk but his presence is overwhelming. He’s so tall, much taller than you and impressive, you wonder why he’s even talking to you.

You’ve heard about Dealer!Sukuna before when your dorm mate asked around for some weed. His reputation precedes him. He’s an asshole to most people, including his inner circle. That’s why you don’t understand why he’s being nice to you.

You notice how he licks his lips after each drag he takes, blowing the smoke in your direction. His oddly coloured crimson eyes never leave you, even when someone comes by and asks him for party goods.

Dealer!Sukuna who tells him to fuck off, wanting to continue his little observation in peace. He blows another cloud of spicy smoke your way before nodding at the stairs, inviting you to follow him.

Clutching your red cup, you wonder if you should answer the siren’s call or not. As tempting and luring as he is, you can’t bring yourself to follow him. He notices how torn you are but remain by the wall, tearing your eyes away from him.

Dealer!Sukuna who walks over to you and gently lifts your chin to make you look up at him. You’re the first not to beg him for even some of his attention and he fucking loves it. He loves how preppy and innocent you look, different from the girls who he usually hangs out with. You’re a shiny new toy and he has every intention to keep you to himself, no matter how much time and effort it takes.

“I wont bite, you know,” he eventually tells you, teasing again. “Unless… that’s your thing, maybe?” His wolfish grin widens as your heart beats harder in your chest.

He’s everything you’ve been taught to stay away from. The tattoos, the pink hair, the reputation, the drugs - forbidden yet you’re feeling like a moth to a flame, willingly getting too close just to feel its warmth for a second.

“Why won’t you get upstairs with me? I’ll make it worth your time,” he nods confidently, his thumb gently caressing your jaw.

“No, thank you, I-“ you stutter, struggling to maintain eye contact with him. “I have to go home,” you want to put some distance between the two of you, but the wall behind you keeps you trapped against him.

“Need a ride maybe?” He tilts his head slightly to the side, looking like he’s deciding how to devour you.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you sneak a peek at his reddened eyes. He’s past high, probably a little drunk as well, no matter how composed and confident he looks.

“Come on, you gotta give me something,” his eyes trail along your neck and spontaneously, he takes a strand of your hair, twirling it gently around his finger. You don’t know how to breathe anymore, how to move or even what he asked you three seconds ago. “At least gimme me your name, baby,” his voice is pure lust and the slight desperation in it almost gets to you.

Dealer!Sukuna who watches you hurry outside with flushed cheeks, a little disappointed he couldn’t get more out of you. He doesn’t mind. He looks forward to seeing you again, the idea of chasing after you turning his curiosity into a blooming obsession.

Dividers by @cafekitsune and @firefly-graphics

#jjk #jjk x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen #Sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #sukuna x y/n #jujustu kaisen #jjk au #jjk fluff #jjk smut

607 notes · View notes

azzandra · 4 hours ago

Text

Aw, man, can't believe it's been two years since I wrote that.

When I reblogged and added my little commentary, I actually hadn't anticipated my comment to be reblogged by more than a couple of mutuals or be seen outside of my followers. I was just sharing a term that popped up in my head as a joke.

If I knew this glib comment I dashed off one morning without much thought was going to breach containment and take on a life of its own, I probably would have added a few disclaimers.

Since then, I've seen some people miss the point about what I was talking about in a few huge ways, so I'll clarify now a few points:

I have nothing against the cockroach wife dude.

I don't know if that story is true or not (there are some weird people out in the world, so I won't dismiss it out of hand, but like. come on) and I sincerely do not care that his spankbank was exclusively taken up by a cockroach woman. The part of his tale that we should take as a parable is where he solely and without being forced by anyone else hinged his entire sexuality around an imaginary construct that then made him incapable of being attracted to real human women. Remember, his story starts with him complaining that he can't get it up with his human girlfriend without picturing her as a huge cockroach. He did that. Nobody forced him to develop this condition. This is a lesson for the rest of us.

people going 'I think they're both pretty!' like that's the centrist silver bullet to this phenomenon.

Listen, yeah. I agree. Both versions are meant to be attractive, just to wildly different demographics. You know who doesn't agree? The guys I'm talking about.

The dudes I am referencing do NOT think both characters are attractive to different people. They think the original is attractive to NOBODY, and everyone else in the world is just PRETENDING that the first one is attractive in any way, and they're convinced everyone else also objectively knows the original art is ugly but there's a conspiracy to subject poor defenseless heterosexual men to pictures of butt-ugly women in order to brainwash them or something.

The guys afflicted with Cockroach Wife Syndrome are on some gamerbro qanon shit where their perception of reality is slanted to a comical degree, but they think their experiences are objective and unbiased, and they're making it everyone else's problem.

people smugly going 'OP has an anime girl in their icon' like that's some sort of gotcha

Yeah, man, I'm not opposed to anime girls. I'm not even opposed to hentai, or blender porn, or masturbation. I think everyone deserves to masturbate if they want to, and the way the world is going, we all probably deserve to masturbate a lot more (porn addiction isn't a real thing, my dudes). I accept that some people are going to jerk it to stuff that I don't find attractive, and maybe consider repulsive, and that's just going to be a fact of life from here unto eternity. We all need to come to terms to that.

But the Cockroach Wife Syndrome sufferers do NOT want to accept it. They want the entire world to have only one porn preference that aligns neatly to their own, and also they want all fictional depictions of women everywhere to adhere precisely to their porn preference.

And like, why would we do what these guys say? Now, me, personally, each time I see one of their yassified sexy edits of an already pretty female character, it always looks like the tackiest shit to me, like they're a toddler who got into mommy's make-up. I want to start a GoFundMe to send them to beautician school. I don't care how much they screech about it, they cannot convince me their aesthetic tastes are something to emulate, so I coined this term for them just so I had a name for their obnoxious behavior.

All that being said, in the time since I wrote this post, I discovered it gained some traction outside of tumblr. "Cockroach Wife Syndrome" was added to Urban Dictionary. There are people slinging around the term on twitter. I personally got jumpscared by running into it in the wild on reddit, which was how I found out people are actually using it. Honestly, I am not that hyped about this being my legacy (and I am so sorry to the OP of this post that I got them stuck with seeing every reply or tag someone ever makes about the cockroach wife guy, like I'm some malevolent storytime cuckoo who dropped disturbing internet tales in their nest). But ultimately, I think this one is actually on the thousands of people who reblogged it and considered that I described a phenomenon that they also observed.

Y'all stay safe out there, and remember to vary your masturbation material once in a while.

i wish i could see this picture for the first time again

#and this is my final word on the subject

150K notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 1 day ago

Text

EVERYTHING WITH YOU

A/N: this short little fic was based on one single tag from @harrysblackcoat lol

WORD COUNT: 836

SUMMARY: The wedding vibes have Harry wonder what he wants from the future when it comes to you.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

The Sun has sunk behind the winery, the string lights above the tables and dancefloor are shining along with the stars that are hanging on the clear sky. The band is relentlessly playing song after song, not letting the guests rest even for a minute. The bartenders are eagerly making the orders, not letting anyone stay thirsty.

Harry is sitting at his seat, nursing his own drink while talking with some guests. It’s your sister’s wedding, so he doesn’t know many people, but most guests obviously have recognized him upon arriving at the ceremony earlier. He’s been patiently and kindly chatting with everyone who is bold enough to come up to him.

But right now he is having a hard time focusing on the conversation he was pulled into, because his attention keeps wandering towards the dance floor.

There you are, in your flowy lilac dress that’s been chosen by your sister for all bridesmaids, but there’s no doubt you look the most fantastic in it if you ask Harry. You’ve ditched your heels a while ago, so you’re dancing around barefoot, your hair is a bit dishevelled by now, but still very elegant and dreamy in his opinion.

He can’t get enough of you. The way you move your hips to the rhythm, how you smile at everyone and he loves it when you get so excited about a song that you start jumping. He feels like he is watching a movie he never wants to end.

At one point you’re surrounded by a couple of little girls and you dance with them happily, twirling and lifting them up, making them laugh from excitement, it’s easily the most adorable sight Harry has seen in a while. He loves seeing you with kids, you’re definitely in your element when you get to make them laugh and it always makes Harry wonder…

When you spot him staring at you shamelessly, you dance your way through the dancefloor towards him, making him laugh with your silliest dance moves.

“Hey handsome, want to dance?” you ask, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

“Not turning that down,” he grins as he excuses himself from the table and taking your hand he lets you pull back to the dancefloor.

Once you secure a spot you’re quick to curl your arms around his neck and his hands grab you by your waist as you start moving to the music. Harry didn’t like dancing that much when you started dating a year ago, he would just let you go wild with your girlfriends whenever you were out somewhere while he stayed by the table, but slowly, step by step you made him join you more and more often until he kind of became fond of dancing with you. What you don’t know is that what he loves the most about it is that others are seeing you with him and it fills him with pride, knowing he is seen with the most beautiful woman in the room.

The band changes up the mood a little with a slower song, mostly couples stay on the dance floor and the newlyweds are swaying in the middle. Harry smiles when you pull him closer and lay your head to his shoulder as he tightens his arms around your figure. He knows the song that’s playing, so he starts humming the melody in your ear and it makes you smile.

Lifting your head up at one point you steal a quick kiss, then your gaze wanders over to your sister and her husband. She looks so happy and so in love, it’s amazing to see your sister like this and you know her husband will treat her right.

Harry follows your gaze, but his thoughts are a bit different.

“I can see us like that,” he tells you.

“Dancing?” you chuckle softly. “We are dancing right now.”

Harry shakes his head with a small smile and then it seems like he hesitates before speaking up again.

“I mean married. I can see us married.”

His words surprise you. It’s not like you haven’t thought about it before, you have, quite often, but you haven’t really discussed it before. It wasn’t a topic you were avoiding, it just never came up, so his confession came a bit out of the blue.

Harry, seeing your reaction, thinks he might have said something he shouldn’t have.

“Do you?” he asks, seemingly flushed and worried he shouldn’t have said that. “It’s okay if you don’t, you don’t have to–”

You cut off his rambling with a kiss and you instantly feel his muscles relax under your touch, his arms tightening around you. When you pull back you give him a bright smile.

“I can see everything with you, Harry.”

The relief is visible on his face as a warm smile stretches across his lips. He doesn’t say a word, just rests his forehead against yours and you keep swaying to the music.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

275 notes · View notes

chrissssssmut · 1 day ago

Note

can i request sakura being punished all day with a vibrator in front of her members until she squirts

BEHIND THE SPOTLIGHT

Le Sserafim Sakura x Abusive Manager Male reader feat. Le Sserafim

AN: Second Smut! Hope y'all enjoy this one!♥️ (Sakura is so fine in this pic😭♥️)

Sakura had always been resilient. Years of training, scrutiny, and expectations had built a quiet endurance within her, a silent strength that kept her standing even when her body threatened to collapse. But this was different. This was a kind of torment she was never prepared for.

The hiatus was supposed to be for her health. The company agreed. The members supported her. But not him. Not the manager who had spent years molding LE SSERAFIM into a powerhouse. Not the man who saw every delay as a direct betrayal to the group’s progress.

At first, it was little things. He made her stay late after check-ups, forced her to sit through unnecessary meetings, made sure she knew how much she had ‘failed’ the group by stepping back. But then it escalated. A shove when she was too slow. A whisper in her ear reminding her she was disposable. A punishment for every day the group was forced to wait for her return.

Sakura stayed quiet. She had to. If the others found out, they would fight for her. And that would make things worse. So she endured. Every insult, every bruise hidden beneath the long sleeves of her hoodie, every degrading remark that chipped away at the light she once carried.

That night was the worst. She was in her room, barely able to sit up from exhaustion when the door slammed open.

“You’re still in bed?” his voice was a growl, low and venomous.

Sakura scrambled to sit up, her body trembling. “I—I was just—”

“Resting,” he spat. “Being useless. Holding everyone back.”

She flinched, her throat tightening as she bowed her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” The word came with a cruel laugh. “You think that’s enough?”

Before she could react, he yanked her up, his fingers digging into the fragile skin of her wrist. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, but she bit down the pain. No. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

“Get up,” he ordered, dragging her toward the door. “It’s time your group sees what their ‘leader’ has become.”

Sakura’s breath hitched. “No—please, don’t—”

He didn’t listen. He never listened.

The training room was silent when they arrived. The other members were there, restrained, confusion and fear painted on their faces. They had been called in urgently, no reason given. Now, as Sakura was shoved inside, their confusion turned into pure horror.

“Sakura?” Chaewon’s voice wavered. “What—what happened to you?”

Bruises, cuts, exhaustion. She looked fragile, barely able to stand. The image of the strong, confident Sakura they knew was gone.

“She happened,” the manager said coldly. “Her weakness. Her selfishness.” He turned to them, eyes burning with contempt. “And now, you will all see firsthand the consequences of failure.”

Sakura trembled, her breath shaky as she took a step back. There was no escaping this. Not anymore. And as his shadow loomed over her, she realized—

This nightmare had only just begun.

The other members fought against their restraints, eyes wide with desperation. “Let her go!” Yunjin shouted, struggling against the ropes binding her to the chair. Kazuha thrashed wildly, tears forming in her eyes. Eunchae sobbed, shaking her head as she desperately tried to free herself, her young face contorted with panic.

Before they could do anything, security stormed in, forcing them back down. The members screamed, pleaded, but it was useless. Strong hands held them in place, ensuring they could do nothing but watch.

Sakura’s breath came in short, panicked gasps as she looked at them, silently begging for help she knew wouldn’t come.

And then the door locked behind them.

With a slow, deliberate motion, the manager reached into his coat and pulled something out. The moment it came into view, the room fell into a stunned silence. The members’ eyes widened in pure shock, their struggles momentarily forgotten as the reality of what they were seeing sank in.

A vibrator.

Without a second thought, the manager ripped off sakura's clothing, leaving her bare on the floor. Her voice trembled as she fell to her knees, desperation lacing every word. "Please… don’t do this," she begged, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

The manager's eyes darkened as he folded his arms. "I've made my decision. You've been testing my patience for too long. It’s time your fellow members learn the consequences of slacking off.”

The manager’s grip was unyielding, his fingers digging into her arms as she trembled, too weak to resist. No matter how frail she was, he refused to let her go.

The other members called out for Sakura, their voices breaking with desperation, but their pleas fell on deaf ears. It was hopeless.

As the manager tightened his grip on her, he slowly began to rub the vibrator on Sakura's wet folds, each movement drew a reaction, every touch provoking a response. Sakura bit her lip, resisting at first, but eventually, her resolve crumbled. Her moans and cries intertwined, a bittersweet symphony of pain and pleasure.

Sakura had begun to crumble.

The manager relished the sight of her in that state, taunting her with a smirk as he teased, "You love being treated like this, don’t you? You fucking slut.”

Sakura could barely form a response, her mind clouded and body trembling under the overwhelming waves of pleasure. Every sensation crashed over her, leaving her breathless, lost in the intensity of it all.

The other members watched in anguish, their hearts sinking as they witnessed Sakura endure her punishment, powerless to intervene. “Please… just stop,” Chaewon’s voice trembled, desperation cracking through as she stepped forward. “She doesn’t deserve this.” Yunjin clenched her fists, her breath unsteady. “She’s had enough! Just let her go!” Eunchae’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please… I’m begging you… she’s hurting.” Kazuha swallowed hard, her usually calm demeanor shaken. “You’ve made your point… we’ll do whatever you want. Just leave her alone.”

As the manager’s pace on her intensified, Sakura’s moans filled the room, growing louder with every breath, her body trembling as she edged closer to the peak of pleasure. The manager’s grip tightened around Sakura’s face, his fingers pressing into her soft skin as he forced her teary eyes to meet his. His gaze was dark, unyielding. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice slow, deliberate. "Say it. Tell me you’re mine. That you belong to me. That you’ll listen to me and only me."

Sakura’s breath hitched, her vision blurred by the fresh wave of tears slipping down her cheeks. Her body trembled, her lips quivering as she tried to resist—tried to hold onto the last shreds of defiance within her. But under his relentless stare, her resolve shattered.

With a broken whisper, her voice barely above a breath, she finally obeyed. "I’m yours… I’ll listen only to you."

“Ahh…! I-I’m cumming…!” Sakura moaned loudly, her body trembling as she reached her peak, completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure.

Within a few minutes, Sakura’s body arched as a sharp gasp tore from her lips, her fingers gripping onto anything she could find. A wave of overwhelming pleasure crashed over her, leaving her breathless, her mind hazy with the intensity of it all. Her trembling legs threatened to give out, her voice breaking into shaky moans as she reached her peak, completely lost in the moment. Her body trembled uncontrollably as her fluids spilled onto the floor, some splashing against the manager, marking the aftermath of her release.

The manager let out a deep, satisfied moan, his grip on Sakura still firm as he leaned in close. “This won’t be the first or last time I do this to you,” he murmured, his voice laced with dominance. His gaze then shifted to the rest of LE SSERAFIM, eyes cold and unrelenting. “Let this be a warning—if any of you even think about taking a hiatus, you’ll suffer the same fate… maybe even worse.” A heavy silence filled the room as the members, trembling and helpless, nodded in fearful obedience.

The manager ran his fingers along Sakura’s trembling body, collecting some of the lingering fluids. With a slow, deliberate motion, he brought them to his lips, tasting her. His eyes darkened with satisfaction as he looked down at her, making her shudder in fear.

The members of LE SSERAFIM were finally released, and without hesitation, they rushed to Sakura’s side, their footsteps echoing in the tense silence.

Chaewon dropped to her knees first, gently cupping Sakura’s face, her voice trembling. “Sakura… are you okay? Say something, please.”

Yunjin wrapped her arms around her, holding her tightly. “We’re here. You’re not alone,” she whispered, her own voice cracking with emotion.

Eunchae clutched Sakura’s hand, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Unnie, we’re so sorry… we couldn’t stop him…”

Kazuha swallowed hard, her expression conflicted as she draped her jacket over Sakura’s trembling shoulders. Her fists clenched at her sides before she exhaled shakily. “Let’s just… follow him,” she muttered under her breath. “We have no choice.”

The weight of her words settled over them like a suffocating fog. One by one, the members lowered their heads in silent resignation, their hands tightening around Sakura as if trying to shield her from a reality they couldn’t escape.

The manager stood over them, his gaze cold and indifferent, showing no trace of mercy or remorse for what he had done. He pulled out a stack of papers and tossed them onto the floor beside them.

“Enough of this,” he said, his voice sharp and commanding. “You all need to prepare for the new comeback.I better not hear a single tear or complaint. Not a word.”

The weight of his words settled over them like a heavy chain, tightening around their throats. The members barely had time to process what had just happened, yet he expected them to move on as if nothing had changed—as if Sakura wasn’t still trembling in their arms, broken and exhausted.

No apology. No hesitation. Just another order.

#girl group smut #kpop smut #le sserafim smut #sakura smut #sakura le sserafim #gg smut #smut scenarios #smut story #female idol smut #smut #idol x male reader #kpop scenarios #kpop idols #kpop story #le sserafim #kpop gg

244 notes · View notes

saetiate · 2 days ago

Text

itoshi sae x f!reader (can be read as gender neutral), sae gets jealous and feels guilty that he hasn't been making enough time for you, and how he reconciles with you

sae’s eyes follows your figure as you stand at the arched glass of an array of cakes, watches as a man enters the cafe just to say hello to you.

he always watches you, even (especially) when you’re not looking. this is no different. the man is standing a little too close to you as you laugh at something he said, his hand coming up to brush something off your shoulder, and sae almost goes to interrupt. almost stands from his seat, sits up with his feet flat on the ground ready to pounce and do exactly that, except —

except he remembers this is the first date he’s taken you on in the last three months. that he hasn’t made the time for you in three months.

what kind of man, of boyfriend, does that make him? (what right does he have to prevent you from finding something better?)

“who was that?”

you’re happily propping back down on the seat across from him, telling him about which cake you ordered, when he asks.

“hm? oh! he’s from work, we’re on the same project,” you thank the barista as the cake is placed in front of you, wide-eyed with glee at the sweet treat.

“does that happen a lot?” he tries to act like it’s nothing, a hand resting gently on the table. “guys flirting with you?”

“what? sae,” you laugh. you laugh like it’s a joke and he doesn’t get it. “he wasn’t flirting, he was just saying hi. he was probably just being polite.”

sae wants to say he knows polite. polite is sitting across from an interviewer who’s asking stupid questions and answering them anyways. polite is saying thank you to the barista as they set your drinks down.

polite is not the way that man leaned into your space, the way his hand rested on your shoulder, the way his eyes drifted over your body.

“are you jealous?”

you look like you’re about to laugh again, incredulous. but it strikes him then. that even with the jewelry he bought you around your neck and wrist, he can’t stop everyone in the world from trying to have you. can’t prevent them from imagining you the way he has you.

“sae,” you try again, a bitterness in your tone that you try to swallow with a bite of sweet cake.

he just looks at you.

“you’re a pro athlete.” there’s silence from him, a deep breath from you when you realize he doesn’t see what you’re getting at. “you’re surrounded by models at every gala you go to.”

your cheeks are pursed to the side, tight lipped, as if a box with an unpleasant thought had fallen from the top shelf. the silence between you both stretches, a clink of ice melting. he’s looking at you (always is, don’t you know?), something nondescript over his face.

and then there’s a flurry of his graceful moves as his jacket drapes over your shoulders.

your doe-eyed, confused look at him makes his heart lurch, your hands going to wrap the jacket together around yourself automatically, like a subconscious note to the way he takes care of you, at how you still seek to surround yourself in the comfort of his cologne even after all this time.

(or maybe, especially, after he hasn’t seen you for a while.)

and then he’s cupping your jaw in one hand, the tips of his fingers delicate over either side of your cheek, his elbow resting over the table, bringing your faces close —

sae doesn’t do this. you and sae don’t do this. always careful with making sure you’re private, never overly affectionate in public, even in something like this secluded corner of a cafe.

“sae,” this time, you say his name with a soft warning, your hand coming up to rest on his arm, pushing gently as a reminder, but he doesn’t budge.

instead, his nose brushes yours, his forehead resting against yours. he breathes in sync with you, lets the closeness take over all his senses. your hand runs up his arm, squeezing the hard line of muscle there.

his lips brush against yours with a feather’s touch, moving to press a kiss to the corner of your lip instead.

you know itoshi sae best. this is as close as he gets to saying it.

something like you’re mine. something like i belong to you.

“let’s take the cakes home.” it’s a whisper against your skin. an apology for not being around, an unspoken promise that he will be going forward.

unspoken, but sae doesn’t break his promises.

thank you for reading :>

"you know itoshi sae best" is a line originally used by coco aka tohruies who sent me this lovely fic she wrote in my askbox

#another one to add to the books of the corae timeline #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #fragments of memories: drabble #fragments of memories #fragments: bllk #fragments: bllk: sae #fragments of memories: selfship #submerge and awaken: sae #X reader

212 notes · View notes

odd-lil-duck · 13 hours ago

Text

A story!

Gumdrop was sitting in class, bored out of her mind. She was too smart for the regular classes but not smart enough for any of the advanced classes. She could keep up with her school work easily enough. Math was the subject she excelled at, though she could spend hours in her literature class. It was the first class of the day and by the time school was over with, she couldn't wait to go home.

"Yoooo!"

A voice was coming up behind Gumdrop. She turns around to find Citty Kat running up to her. Citty Kat was always beaming and ran around like sunshine was trailing behind. Today seemed no different. They ran up to Gumdrop out of breath. "Hey! Wait! Wait up!" Gripping their sides as if they had nothing else to hold.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh yeah no totally!" They finally straightened out. "I just needed to tell you something!"

Something? Gumdrop and Citty Kat haven't known each other long, but Gumdrop could not help but be cautious anyway.

"Are you doing anything after school?" They asked.

"No...?" How important was this if they had to wait till after school to tell her?

"Good! Let's find Andre! We need to bring him with us too!"

Andre?

What does Andre have to do with anything?

They both found him outside the boy's bathroom. His last class of the day was P.E. so he just finished changing back to his shorts and long sleeve shirt.

"Yoooo!" Citty Kat was waving their arm around crazily to catch his attention. Gumdrop let her attention drift to the falling leaves.

"Is everything okay?" Worry spread across his face rapidly. His arms drift back to their normal place crossed over his chest

"C'mon let's go!" Citty Kat pulls him by the arm and begins running off, leaving Gumdrop to follow behind. She sighed and trudged along.

Citty Kat n Andre stop in front of the doors of some fast food restaurant. Through the windows it's busier than usual. Gumdrop catches up to them and stops in front of the doors. Citty Kat turns to them and speaks.

"Alright! Are you guys ready?" The two turn to each other in confusion.

"Ready for what?" Gumdrop knows they mean no harm - that's why she followed them - however what little she knows about them is that they are a very spontaneous, almost chaotic force. They do as they please and follow the wind in its spirit.

Citty Kat points to the sign on the window. "They have Buy 1 Get 1 Free burgers right now! We have to get some! Mandatory!"

"Wh- that's it?" Andre couldn't help but be more suspicious.

"The food here is sooo good! I've been saving up for a while and then I see the sign today!"

Gumdrop couldn't be any more underwhelmed. She turns to leave.

"No wait don't go!" Citty Kat cried out. "Just trust me on this, you won't regret it!"

Gumdrop sighed. She turned back to the doors. A wide small spread across Citty Kat's face.

"Alright let's go!" They all march in one after the other.

The line is longer than usual, giving the kids a few minutes to talk.

"Okay!" exclaimed Citty Kat. "Anyone have any food allergies? Any food icks? Anything?"

"N-no. Nothing like that." Andre shook his head. Gumdrop wordlessly shook hers.

"Okay! Stay right there!" Citty Kat goes ahead to the line, leaving the two alone.

Neither of them say anything for a few minutes, the silence growing almost unbearable. Andre shifts uneasily on his feet. Gumdrop keeps her arms crossed, waiting.

"So," Andre breaks the silence between them. "I noticed you keep sitting at the same spot at lunch alone."

"And I noticed you keep sitting at my spot at lunch," Gumdrop responds. Andre begins to fidget with the hem of his shirt.

"It's the only place, uh, away from everyone else, Idk I just needed to get away from everyone," his voice dropping to a whisper, "If you want me to leave then I can, uh, I can stop sitting there."

She turns to look at him. His head has dropped down, eyes turned to the floor. His hands are still on the hem of his shirt. His sneakers are pointed inward. The hat covering his head of hair starts to sag a bit.

Gumdrop sat on this for a moment. She has discovered her god was a false god, but she was still a student of his teachings. Her mind led her in one way, but her instincts.....

Sighing, she speaks her mind.

"I don't mind."

Andre perks up.

"you- you mean it?"

He looked like someone just gave him a puppy, thought Gumdrop.

"I just, I need my space. I need a moment to myself."

"Of- of course." Andre couldn't help but feel more than grateful.

"So-"

"Okayyyy!! I have the food!!" The smell was wafting through the air as it grew closer to the two. "Alright! Let's go find a table!"

"Go on! Give it a try!" Citty Kat smiles with expectation and excitement. They had placed the two burgers in front of the other two. Gumdrop couldn't help but feel uneasy at the sight of so much grease. She looked up to see Andre take a bite. His eyes were showing no more regrets in life, as if he had found the reason for living.

Citty Kat had looked at Gumdrop.

"Did you wanna try it?"

Gumdrop glances back to the burger. She picks it up in as much of a dignified manner as one can have while eating a burger. Finding the perfect bite, the texture floods in first. The flavor then seeps through the grease and various juices. The synergy creates a medley of different emotions and experiences all at once.

"Good, right?" Gumdrop snaps back to reality. Andre is most halfway done with his. Citty Kat is sitting there with an expectant smile on their face. "You liked it, right?"

Gumdrop chews a bit more thoughtfully, savoring every last sensation this burger intended to bring.

"Hm... This..." She couldn't help but ponder, trying to think of the best way to describe it. "This might be the best burger I've ever had."

Citty Kat's smile somehow grew even wider. They chew off the end of a fry in satisfaction.

"Wait but, where's your burger?" Andre began. "Why are you only eating the fries?"

"Oh, I don't like burgers." Replied Citty Kat. "I only really eat the fries and nuggets." They continued to munch on some more fries.

Gumdrop glances at Andre and then turns her attention back to Citty Kat. "So if you weren't going to eat the burgers from the burger place, why bring us? What is the point of anything?"

Citty Kat shrugged their shoulders. "Well, because it's fun! You guys try new things with me and I get to eat my favorite food! Win win!" Citty Kat grinned.

A look of confusion spreads across Andre's face followed by realization. Gumdrop let's out a sigh. They continue to eat in peace, Citty Kat rambling on about their day, Andre chiming in with facts about Pokemon, and Gumdrop sitting idly, listening to her two new friends while eating her new favorite burger.

how would one of your OCs react to a HUGE burger and delicious seasoned french fries?

#differentperspective #different perspective #diffeperspective #gumdrop #citty kat #andre #food mention #food mention cw #I got tired partway through writing this and went to sleep #I only thought to come back to it after work

3K notes · View notes

heavyhitterheaux · 1 day ago

Text

NSFW Alphabet

See Me Through You Series

Synopsis: It's pretty self explanatory lol 🤭

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a gorgeous anon 😍

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

A (ftercare)- Joe has always been a gentleman in this regard from the first time you two slept together (which was also your first time ever and was very surprised when you told him). He always helps you to the bathroom, but not before turning on the shower first in order for the water to heat up. He usually gets in with you before going to change the sheets on your bed. He then helps put your hair up no matter what style its in, feeds you if you want something before you both settle into a deep sleep.

B (ody part)- Joe's favorite body part of yours is your eyes. As cliche and cheesy as it sounds, he could get lost in them for hours on end. The color reminds him of honey which is no surprise considering what a sweet person you are to everyone around you.

Now your favorite body part of his was his hands. You loved when he inserted his fingers in you of course, but you always found yourself wanting to hold his hand or having him touch you. Joe doesn't know this, but he always brings attention to them and he obviously doesn't mean to. A lot of times that would consist of him playing with his wedding band.

C (um)- You like to be covered in it and Joe likes to see you covered in it. His favorite place to release besides inside of you was your chest and your face. But ever since he got it in your hair that you had just gotten done hours before, he's been put on restriction.

That interaction ended in A LOT of yelling.

He paid for you to get it redone the next day as an apology.

D (irty Secret)- Joe loves to face fuck you and see you whimpering and moaning underneath of him. The two of you don't do it often, but when he does it takes no time for him to release in your mouth.

Besides that, he absolutely loves watching you sleep and this has been a thing ever since the first night you stayed with him in his apartment at LSU. He loves how peaceful you look and when you had been terrorizing him all day, he can finally be at peace too (But he'll never admit it out loud).

E (xperience)- Although Joe wasn't your first boyfriend, he is the first person that you have had sex with and you're definitely glad that you waited for him. He is always so thoughtful and takes his time with you.

Joe on the other hand had a few girlfriends in high school and when he was at OSU, so the experience is there. Because he knows you aren't as experienced as he is, he takes his time and introduces you to different things slowly and not all at once.

F (avorite position)- As simple as it is, missionary is his favorite simply because his eyes are on you the entire time. As mentioned before, he loves the sounds that you make as well as the faces to go along with it.

Bonus if he can get you in front of a mirror to take you from behind. He makes you keep eye contact with him the entire time. The moment you look away, he stops.

A close second is you riding him as he tightly holds onto your hips.

G (oofy)- Joe takes your pleasure as well as your well-being very seriously which is no surprise. But of course, he has a smile on his face just about the whole time because he has your full attention.

Especially when he knows that you're close.

H (air)- There is definitely a happy trail present and it's very neat and trimmed. You on the other hand hate having hair anywhere on your body except your head so to the wax lady you go.

I (ntimacy)- Joe always makes you feel loved and deeply cared for and you have never felt any differently. He takes his time exploring every inch of your body as if it was the first time.

He has always been possessive of you and makes sure to tell you that he knows that no one will ever be able to make you feel as good as he does.

Your eyes are trained to stay on him the entire time.

J (ackoff)- So does he do it? Not a lot since you officially moved to Cincinnati to be with him. However, the long distance took a toll and the two of you put facetime to good use.

Mutual masturbation.

You also remember getting a surprise in the middle of class which was a video of Joe jacking off. It definitely sent you over the edge and your vibrator got put to good use that night over and over again.

K(ink)- Joe loves to tease you every chance he gets which happens to be often. He'll bring you so close to the edge where you feel as if you couldn't take it anymore and immediately pull away, making you complain. But when he felt as if he had teased you enough, when he did bring you to an orgasm, you swore you could see stars.

Choking is another kink, but more so for you than for him. It's not the fact that he doesn't like it, but it's not his favorite. The only reason why he does it was so that you could reach your peak faster.

He does love tying you up and blindfolding you and you simply go along for the ride knowing that it's going to be worth it.

Spitting is something that you absolutely loved and that's all Joe needed to know in order to bring you as much pleasure as possible.

L(ocation)- Favorite place to pleasure you is of course your bedroom, but his car used to be a close second.

He had toned down a lot since having his NFL status and being in public was now usually a no go.

His most recent spot that was now considered a favorite was the balcony of your newest house in Louisiana.

M(otivation)- Seeing you in lingerie that he himself picked out for you was his number one motivation, but something that also turned him on was you doing the most simple everyday things.

You could be doing something as watching a movie and you would casually be sitting there on the couch in one of Joe’s t-shirts and nine times out of ten nothing else and he would literally walk up to you and throw you over his shoulder and you knew what was about to happen.

N(o)- Something that Joe would never do is cause you physical harm on purpose. One time he tied you up a bit too tight and once he took them off, all you could see was red and indentations on your skin where they had been. He beat himself up over it for a while despite you telling him that it was okay and that you were fine, and you knew that he didn't mean for it to happen.

He literally didn't do anything again with you until everything properly healed despite your obvious protests.

O(ral)- Joe could spend all day in between your thighs and it was his favorite place to be and you obviously had no complaints. He loved making you feel good with his tongue and your favorite thing was obviously when he sucked on your clit.

Now when it was time for you to switch roles, Joe absolutely loved when you deep throated him. As many things as he would do for you, you were more than willing to return the favor.

P(ace)- He loves to take his time with you and make sure that you knew that he loved and cared about you through his actions and him making you feel as if you were on cloud nine.

If he could have you underneath him all day he would.

Q(uckie)- Not normally his favorite since he liked to make you cum multiple times and not just once. But this would happen sometimes in the morning when he had just woken up and wanted to feel you near him.

Inside and out.

R(isk)- Joe is always down to experiment, but of course he has to hear what your thoughts about it are first before anything can happen. If it's another way to make you feel good, he'll do it.

S(tamina)- During the season is a little different than when it's the off season and for good reason.

Joe is so focused during the season so you might get two rounds out of him on a good day. But, once the season is over, Joe is attached to you every second of every day and if it was left up to him probably wouldn't let you go until the paint on the walls were peeling.

T(oys)- During your first semester when the two of you started dating, he bought you a vibrator as an early Christmas gift and he kept it at his apartment to use on you whenever he wanted.

However, over Christmas break, you took it home and put it to good use on a facetime call with Joe because you were missing him so much.

He also bought you a rose vibrator for your 19th birthday and that combined with him inside of you at the same time was a pleasure like no other.

U(nfair)- Joe will tease you to no end and as much as it might annoy you, you also knew that when that orgasm hit that it was going to be like a ton of bricks.

And you better not cum unless he tells you too.

V(olume)- You can never get over how Joe's moans sound and it was like music to your ears. You really loved it when you two were in missionary and you would have your legs wrapped around him as his head is buried on your shoulder and you can hear his soft moans directly in your ear.

W(ild Card)- You two definitely had sex in the locker room at LSU after hours and it's your little secret.

While you happened to be wearing his jersey.

X(-ray)- We've seen the dick print and we know that there isn't anything small about him.

He makes sure that you always feel every inch of him.

Y(earning)- It’s not the fact that Joe's sex drive is high, but if he knows that he wants you, there isn't a reason for him to hold back so he is of course going to tell you.

Z(zzz)- When everything is said and done, his usual position when he falls asleep is on top of you as his head lays on your (usually) bare chest.

Clothes are probably unnecessary at this point, so when he wakes up he has easy access to you.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow smut #joe burrow blurb #joe shiesty #nfl imagine

255 notes · View notes

aureatelys · 21 hours ago

Text

as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader w.c.: 6k a/n: inspired by that one gifset of hotch desperately needing some moisturizer on his neck im so sorry. also my first time writing hotch's pov, pls be gentle. c.w.: fluff! friends to lovers, kinda sunshine/girly!reader, mutual pining, alcohol mention, author pretending like they know about skincare, hotch is whipped and touch starved af, no y/n

summary:

You think Hotch needs to take better care of himself. Hotch doesn't know what to think. Or, 5 times you teach Hotch about skincare more than he wants to and 1 time he teaches you.

read below or ao3 here

one.

When Hotch first walks into the conference room ready to go over a new case, there’s something different that he can’t quite put his finger on.

Words dying in his throat, he sweeps his eyes over the entire room and doesn’t see anything significantly out of place. Then he’s passing over everyone’s faces, mentally keeping a note on how exhausted most of them are looking, and then landing on you.

Having only joined a couple of months ago, you were still fairly new to the team. However, with your sunny disposition and eagerness to learn, you blended right in. Hotch had watched in amusement as you were able to keep up with Reid’s ramblings, Morgan’s flirting, and Garcia’s antics. You were insightful, able to give new perspectives that Hotch would never have even considered, patient with victims and their families, and Hotch admired you for that.

Today, however, you look considerably suspicious as you give him a sheepish smile and a little wave. “Morning, Hotch,” you say, eyes sparkling, followed by a round of greetings from the rest of the team.

“Morning.” And then he spots a machine on the table near the wall, shaped and designed like a cat and spouting off what looks like steam at a steady and continuous rate.

Now that he’s noticed it, he realizes the conference room feels significantly stickier, the sudden humidity a stark contrast to the dry winter air outside. He can sense the slight congestion he’s been waking up to the past several months gradually disappearing.

“It’s a humidifier,” you explain after spotting the slightly confused expression Hotch was wearing, as if he’s never seen one before. To be fair, he doesn’t think he’s seen one in years as Haley was usually the one who dug it out of storage when Jack wasn’t feeling well. “I brought it from home, I thought it was a little dry in here. Is that okay?”

“I hope so, I was worried about getting a nosebleed the other day.”

“It’s good to have it around during this time of year, Hotch. Did you hear Anderson coughing this morning?”

“It’s also beneficial to have one on while you sleep, both with the white noise and being able to clear your sinuses and breathe easier with its optimal humidity levels.”

Truthfully, Hotch doesn’t care and he’s sure there isn’t some ridiculous regulation about not allowing a small humidifier, especially when Garcia has two space heaters in her office that you’ve had to ask to borrow at least twice a week.

However, the way you’re glancing up at him now from your spot at the round table, eyes wide and fluffy pink scarf wrapped around you because you apparently run colder than the rest of the team, Hotch would probably let you get away with anything.

He immediately sets that thought aside, not wanting to dwell on exactly what that means right now. He takes the only empty seat left that just happened to be right next to you, making sure to keep a respectable distance. “It’s fine. Just make sure to turn it off and empty it before we go.”

You give him a blinding smile that momentarily distracts him from the bubbling humidifier and the clouds of mist that are nearly falling into his face. “Sure thing. Did you know that it can also help with dry skin? So technically, we’re just taking care of our bodies if they ask why we need it.”

Although it makes sense now that he thinks about it, Hotch didn’t know that. He also doesn’t remember the last time he put on lotion or moisturizer, no matter how dry his hands felt.

Just then, Garcia wobbles in with her yellow heels and coffee mug, immediately launching into the brutal details of the case and where the team will be headed out to for the next couple of days.

When Hotch gets up to grab his go-bag from the office, he tries to ignore how it feels like he can breathe a little bit easier.

two.

“God, it’s freezing in here.”

Hotch glances up from his laptop mid-report to witness you taking the seat next to his with a resounding oof. You’re wrapped up in a blanket that you had brought from home that has somehow taken permanent residence on the jet, shivering despite the heater being on full blast. The corner of it lands on his knee, soft and warm.

The team had just finished a case in rural Montana, surrounded by mountains of snow and the wilderness. You had remembered to pack warmly at least, as Hotch had witnessed you struggling to take off the several layers of sweaters every time you arrived at the precinct. He remembers frowning in the car on the way to apprehend the unsub as you shivered in the passenger seat, having had to wear only a layer or two due to the bulky Kevlar vest and needing to be quick on your feet.

“It’ll warm up here in a second,” Hotch says, already wracking around his brain to see if there was another blanket hidden in a compartment somewhere. “A cup of tea will probably help.”

You slouch down further in your seat, cocooning yourself even further under the thick blanket. “I don’t want to get up.”

Hotch is almost tempted to lock his computer and get up to make you that cup of tea himself, however he glances around the cabin and notices several knowing pairs of eyes on him. He doesn’t have to be a profiler to know what the rest of the team thinks—that he’s gone soft on you.

You with your fuzzy blue blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a cape and the thick socks that you put in your bag specifically for the plane ride home. He knows he’s not imagining the lingering glances you throw at Hotch or the way you occasionally stay late as an excuse to bother him in his office.

And he doesn’t necessarily mind. There’s a strange, innate pull that tugs in his stomach when it comes to you, causing him to watch you more carefully and seeking out your presence at almost every opportunity. The sheer grip of panic on his heart when you were shot after taking down an unsub by yourself and without backup several months ago had Hotch re-evaluating everything he knew about himself.

He’s aware of the possible repercussions, which is exactly why Hotch has learned to be patient when it comes to you, who has threatened him to forgo his patience altogether with every bubbly laugh he can hear from his office or knock of your shoulders against his in the conference room.

So he doesn’t get up to make you that cup of tea despite knowing how you take it with a splash of milk and two sugars, and instead turns back to finish the action report.

It’s only several minutes later when he notices you rummaging around in your bag out of the corner of his eye before you pull out a small and colorful lotion bottle with a triumphant noise. You pop the cap open and slather some on your hands before you’re turning to face Hotch again, the novel that Reid recommended to you untouched on the table. “Do you want some?”

The bottle in your hand looks somewhat familiar, most likely something he’s passed by at the store or on your desk, but Hotch balks at the pink flowers painted all over the bottle. He’s lucky the undoubtedly suffocating smell hasn’t hit him yet. “I’m fine, thanks.”

But you don’t put the lotion back in your bag, instead shifting in your seat until you’re fully facing him. Your blanket is nearly draped over Hotch’s thigh. “Are you sure? You know, it’s really important to make sure your hands are moisturized, especially with how cold it is here.”

He doesn’t know why you’re so adamant about this, peering up at him with bright and eager eyes and the open lotion bottle poised over his hands. He’s never liked putting on lotion, or any kind of creams, as it always made his hands feel uncomfortably greasy. He would eventually wash it off anyway.

He turns his attention back to his laptop, yet wordlessly puts a hand out towards your direction.

He thinks you’re going to pour a generous dollop and let him rub his own hands together, but instead, he nearly jumps in his seat when you’re grabbing onto his hand with both of yours and slathering whatever’s leftover on your hands into his palms and the back of his hands.

Your hands are cold, even moreso than his, but the sharp tingle that runs up his arm at your touch causes something warm to bloom in his chest.

“I didn’t want to waste it,” you respond to the confusion on his face. You’re thorough; making sure to slather the cream in between his fingers and even down to his wrists. He senses the sneaking glances the rest of the team are throwing his way, maybe even smug, but he’s painstakingly distracted by the way your hands look in his, the way he can feel both of your hands gradually warming up.

And then you’re pulling away, and Hotch suddenly misses your tender touch.

Like he expected, his palms suddenly feel gross, unpleasantly slippery like he has oil all over them. He wants to rub his palms on his pants or go wash his hands, but your watchful eyes stop him.

And then it hits him— the sudden scent of you, floral with some hints of vanilla, overwhelming his senses. It’s undeniably the same scent as your perfume, the one that seems to linger every time you stride past him at the office or when you’re leaning over Hotch to laugh at something Morgan said. Now, it causes him to sharply inhale, chest feeling unnervingly tight as he unconsciously marks it to his memory.

You’re still watching him with an expectant smile, bottle stored away in your bag for you to pull out again after you’ve gotten up to use the restroom and used the cheap hand soap that you’ve repeatedly complained about before. You look unfazed, as if your simple touch hasn’t sent Hotch’s brain reeling.

“It’s nice,” Hotch manages to say, voice only slightly strained. The smell is not as strong as he expected, but it’s still doing strange things to his heart more than he’d like to admit.

If possible, your smile widens. “Just nice?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s quite my signature scent.”

You hum and turn away, picking up your book despite Hotch knowing you’re not going to read a single page of it today, the spine already creased from where you’ve been laying it face down multiple times over the past month. “No, your signature scent already fits you.”

Hotch says nothing, not entirely sure how to respond to that, but your attention is already caught by the game of cards Reid and Emily are playing several seats away. You immediately set your novel down and scramble up and out of your seat to be their enthusiastic audience, leaving a trail of vanilla behind you.

Hotch immediately misses the warmth of your blanket.

three.

“What are you looking for now?”

You’ve been digging through your bag, your pink personal one that’s almost as big as your go bag, for the past five minutes. Hotch can hear the various items clinking around and the crinkling of multiple old receipt papers as you curse under your breath. He frowns, tempted to encourage you to clean out your bag if only to make packing more convenient for you. He couldn’t count the number of times you’ve exclaimed on the jet that you had forgotten something.

The team had gotten called to another small rural town in North Dakota for an unsub that’s been killing during the protective guise of blizzards, which is why Hotch was driving so painstakingly slow that Morgan would’ve surely had an aneurysm if he was in the same car. Despite the roads having already been salted, there was still a concerning amount of ice on the roads that had Hotch sitting ramrod straight in his seat and gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were nearly turning white.

Luckily, it was only you and Hotch in the car, heater on full blast. You’re wearing at least three sweaters today with your coat draped over your legs and haven’t even complained once about it being too cold, citing how you’ve never seen this much snow before in your life. Hotch found it all extremely endearing watching you nearly jump in your seat at how the evergreen trees looked covered in snow. Like a Christmas movie, you had said.

“Found it!” You pull out a travel sized bottle of sunscreen, hurriedly twisting the cap open to squeeze and draw lines down three fingers.

Hotch glances at you out of the corner of his eye, brow furrowed in confusion at your strange method. “Sunscreen? Are we going to the beach?”

“God, I hope not. I didn’t think to pack a swimsuit.” You roll your eyes while slathering the cream on your forehead, cheeks, down your neck, and even strangely over your ears before rubbing the rest on the back of your hands.

Hands tightening on the steering wheel, Hotch clears his throat. “I didn’t expect you to be so invested in your skin health.”

“It’s called skincare, Hotch,” you tease, screwing the cap back on but suspiciously leaving it out on your lap. “And it’s important to take care of your skin. Did you know that snow reflects UV rays, so even during winter you should put on sunscreen?”

Hotch chuckles before he could stop himself. “You’re starting to sound like Reid.”

“Did you want some?” You’re twisting your body again to face Hotch, eyes sparkling despite it being horribly dreary and cloudy outside.

The only times Hotch has worn sunscreen was during especially hot summer days when he took Jack to the park or to go swimming. He’s seen you apply sunscreen in the office even when it was raining outside and the sun wasn’t forecasted to come out that day. He’s grown to learn not to ask questions.

“I’m okay, thanks.” The answer’s immediate, partly because he doesn’t need sunscreen and partly because he is concentrating on not crashing into a ditch.

“Come on, Hotch, it’s good for you!” He knows this is exactly the same thing you said on the jet several weeks ago, and since then, every time you’re putting on lotion and he’s somewhere in the near vicinity, you’re already squeezing some on his hands before he could respectfully decline. Luckily, you haven’t tried to apply it for him again.

You’re incredibly stubborn and Hotch wonders if you’re persuading the rest of the team to invest in expensive and fruity-smelling creams in an effort to have everyone properly take care of their bodies like you are with him.

“Alright.” And then he’s pulling his foot off the gas pedal just a bit to compensate for the distraction of having to put his hand out, desperately hoping you’re not going to lean over to apply it to his own face.

You luckily don’t squeal in excitement like he expected, just silently squirting the cream into careful and meticulous lines on his three fingers. Hotch can tell it’s definitely more of an expensive brand than what he was used to during the summer—lightweight and smelling like nothing.

Hotch carefully slathers it onto his face, starting at his forehead, down his nose, and then out to his cheeks and his chin. There’s still quite a lot left on his fingers and he remembers how you made sure to spread some on your neck, so Hotch does the same thing. However, he is definitely not going to put some on his ears.

Satisfied, you put the sunscreen away and twist as best as you could underneath your thick layers to put your bag in the backseat, because the floor of the car was too wet from the snow from your shoes.

“Happy?” Hotch’s face inexplicably feels greasier than he would like, but it’s not as bad as the vanilla-scented lotion or the cheap sunscreen laying forgotten in his closet. It’s already absorbed into his skin and when he rubs a hand along his jaw, he realizes that it must have had some moisturizer in it as well because his face feels softer than he was used to.

“Ecstatic,” you say, turning your face towards the window to hide the wide grin spreading across your face.

four.

The fourth time Hotch learns about skincare from you was completely and utterly by accident.

It had been a long and brutal couple of days chasing a serial in Tennessee, one that had nearly as much technological experience as Garcia. He had been two steps ahead of them until tonight, when they had finally caught a break and caught him before he could take any more women to hold hostage.

The all-consuming relief was palpable during dinner at the hotel restaurant despite the underlying knowledge that the same thing was going to happen next week. Conversation flowed, drinks were had, and Hotch was adamantly ignoring the fleeting looks you were throwing his way across the table.

Hotch and you had been dancing around each other for months, tension so tangible that the rest of the team were starting to feel uncomfortable. He’s been able to brush off Dave’s sly remarks in the privacy of his office, Morgan and Emily’s raised eyebrows tossed in his direction at every interaction he had with you, and Garcia’s elbow jabs at every possible second when you were in the room.

It's been frustrating for him, to say the least. He can’t tell them that he can’t make that choice for you, that he’s too conscious to not cross any of those professional boundaries himself. If that means that Hotch has to wait for several more months for you to make the first move, if that even happens, then so be it.

When Hotch watches the way you throw your head back in laughter at something Dave says at dinner, eyes bright and face slightly flushed from the wine, he thinks he’d be willing to wait as long as you wanted.

After being nearly kicked out of the restaurant from being too rowdy and Hotch hinting at being able to take the rest of tomorrow off once they fly back in town early, the team quietly shuffles back to their respective rooms. He knows there’s about a 50/50 chance that most of them will sneak out to a nearby bar in ten minutes, but at least he warned them ahead of time.

“Night, Hotch,” you had said, giving him a little smile and wave before your door across the hallway clicked shut.

Something warm settled in Hotch’s chest at that, so he did the most reasonable thing to cope with the unfamiliar and turned the TV on to a random news channel. With the volume on low and his laptop and files laid out on the rickety table, he got to work.

Several hours pass like that as he throws himself into the fine print, going over everyone’s action reports from last week and shuffling through old crime photos to make sure everything matched. It was a familiar process, and almost concerning with how much comfort he’s found in it—the scratch of his pen, the drone of the city several floors down, and the growing smudge of ink on his hand from his thoughts running faster than he could write.

When he gets to your report and notices it’s missing several key points of the case, as well as your loopy signature, he frowns.

The immediate thought that comes to mind would be to just put the file aside and move onto the other one. It wasn’t as if the report was due this second and he knows there were plenty of others that required more immediate attention.

The other thought that emerges, almost reluctantly, was that Hotch could easily go across the hallway and ask you to take a look at it and finish the report rather than waiting for the following morning on the jet when the rest of the team was undoubtedly going to be hungover. Prentiss was most certainly going to be cranky and demand everyone to be quiet because the hum of the jet was already grating enough. He’d just be doing the team a favor.

That’s what Hotch tells himself as he stands up from the low desk, neck and back aching, and makes his way out his room and to yours across the hall.

He briefly pauses, straining his ears as if he could hear anything through the door and over the erratic thumping of his own heart. Hotch is suddenly aware that you may be sleeping, or even out with the rest of the ladies to a sleazy bar, and he’s about to turn back around with defeat weighing heavy on his shoulders when he hears the click of the bathroom door open and your humming, faint even through the thick wooden door.

Feeling confident that he’s not disturbing you and something else Hotch can’t name at the fact that he’s going to be seeing you in the privacy of your hotel room, he raps twice against the door.

“Just a second!” And then the door swings open.

Hotch’s attention is immediately caught by the fluffy headband you’re wearing, light pink and with a comically large bow in the center. You’ve clearly just gotten out of the shower, the scent of your body wash infiltrating Hotch’s senses and causing him to tighten his grip on the files he forgot he was holding in the first place.

You’re wearing a matching set of light blue pajamas, short and clinging to your body in a way that has Hotch immediately tearing his gaze away and back to your bare face. Your lips are glossy, slicker than normal, there’s a drop of water slowly trailing down the side of your neck, and a dab of cream on your cheek that you seem to have not noticed.

“Hotch?” you ask, confused, before letting out a squeak and crossing your arms over your chest in an effort to hide your modesty. Hotch ignores the fact that it just makes everything worse. “Is everything okay? Don’t tell me there’s a case.”

The droplet of water has disappeared underneath the collar of your shirt and the scent of vanilla nearly suffocates him. “No case. Just needed to get your final touches and signature on this report.”

He hopes his voice doesn’t sound as strained to you as it does to him as he remembers why he was standing in your hotel doorway in the first place, the files in his hand suddenly weighing like a ton.

You don’t seem to notice anything wrong, if anything, a slow smile spreads across your face that has Hotch’s stomach flipping.

You look radiant, the intimacy of being near you in your pajamas when you were clearly in the middle of your nighttime routine not going unnoticed. He peers over the top of your head to notice your go bag on your bed, clothes and your personal laptop strewn all over the comforter, and the TV being tuned to what you’d call an “entertaining yet trashy show.”

“You’re still working even though you’re the one who suggested having an early night? It’s late.”

Hotch blinks at you because what else would he have done if not attempt to catch up on the seemingly never-ending pile of papers and reports? “You’re still up late too.”

You roll your eyes. “I was just about to go to bed before you knocked, so technically I have better work-life boundaries than you.”

“Do you want me to come back tomorrow?”

You study him—still wearing his suit sans the jacket, tie only slightly loosened and sleeves rolled up his forearms. He hadn’t even bothered to put his shoes back on, comfortable enough with the hotel’s reputation to be in his room and take the two steps across the carpeted hallway in his socks.

“As long as you make it fast.” And then you’re stepping aside and opening the door further, the sweetness of the vanilla nearly pulling Hotch in.

Except he’s somehow distracted by the dollop of cream still on your cheek, right underneath your eye. Witnessing first-hand the twinkling of your eyes as you glance up at him and the way your pink headband has your hair pushed back, baring the most of your face he’s ever seen, has him sidetracked.

“You have a little…” He motions to his own face, hoping that you will take the hint.

And you don’t, not exactly, because of course you don’t. You immediately swipe at your face but on the wrong cheek and stare down at your hand when you don’t catch anything. “What?”

Hotch is a problem-solver, meticulous, and always thinks things through. That’s his job, to always be two steps ahead of anyone and everyone. So he’s not sure how or why he’s suddenly reaching a hand out to swipe at the cream on your face with his thumb, his touch lingering on the warmth of your cheek.

Whatever Hotch was going to say dies in his throat at the very audible hitch of your breath, the way your eyes widen at his close proximity. Your skin is smooth, softer than anything he’s ever felt, and he ignores the way you’re staring into him as he pulls back and absentmindedly rubs the moisturizer in the palm of his other hand. If he tries hard enough, the cream on his own skin nearly replicates the feeling of yours.

He's about to clear his throat to apologize, maybe even mention something about how the report can technically wait until tomorrow and turn right on his heel back into his room to ignore the adamant weight pressing down on his chest, when your expression changes.

Something almost akin to smugness tugs at the corners of your lips, the shininess inexplicably different and more distracting than your usual lipstick. Your bright eyes dance with amusement before your arms fall from where they were crossed on your chest to your sides.

“You know, I’m wearing a lip mask right now if you want some of that too.”

“Excuse me?”

If possible, your grin widens, causing Hotch to internally deny that he was suddenly feeling breathless. “I use a lip mask every night. They just make them look so kissable, right?”

Something in Hotch snaps, because if that wasn’t a clear invitation, he doesn’t know what is.

When he finally steps into your room, closing the door behind him, you’re slowly backing up until you’re pressed up against the nearest wall with that infuriating grin on your face.

You’re playing with him, you’ve been playing with him, but he doesn’t care and can’t even think about that when you’re peering up at him with soft eyes.

When Hotch brings a hand up to cradle your cheek, he thinks his stomach nearly twists itself into a knot at the immediate way you lean into him and the way your eyes flutter shut.

When he finally kisses you, he can smell the sweetness of the raspberry lip mask before he tastes it, seamlessly blending in with your vanilla body wash and making him feel more drunk than he’s felt in a long time.

You place your hands on his chest, your warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt, and something about touching him has you unconsciously parting your lips to deepen the kiss, causing the smell of raspberry to become stronger.

Hotch can immediately feel the stickiness of your mask on his mouth, and he’s tempted to pull away at the unfamiliarity of something on his lips, but then you’re sighing into him and his hands are suddenly on your waist where the bottom of your pajama top has barely lifted. The warmth of your skin was intoxicating.

You have to be the first one to break the kiss, and when Hotch opens his eyes, you’re staring at him, your smirk having morphed into a smile of disbelief. His eyes flit to the almost imperceptible smear of gloss at the corner of your mouth.

“You have a little…” You trail off, your eyes drifting to his own lips, your smile doing nothing to calm the erratic rhythm Hotch’s heart has taken.

Hotch wonders how much you had put on yourself because the amount that he can feel on his lips makes him immediately want to swipe at his mouth. But that would mean having to take his hands off of you and he doesn’t think he has the willpower for that.

Instead, he rubs his lips together in an effort to spread the tackiness equally over his lips before he says “I like it, but I don’t think I got enough.”

You huff a laugh at that, your fingers tightening from where they’re gripping the lapels of his dress shirt. “I think I can help you with that.”

five.

“Are you okay in there?”

“Just five more minutes, I promise!”

That’s what you had said ten minutes ago. It’s not like Hotch is impatient per se, just content that you had agreed to sleep over again after another late date night and there wasn’t a looming case coming up.

You had only slept over one other time when the team had gotten back from a case late and Hotch wasn’t going to let you drive yourself home when you could barely keep yourself standing. You had dozed off the entire car ride home, head leaning against the window which caused Hotch to adamantly avoid all the potholes and tight turns, and yet you still managed to do your skincare routine in his ensuite bathroom before coming to bed.

After that night in your hotel room, you’ve become bolder. You’re now sitting next to Hotch on the jet, you make your way up to his office when there were still plenty of people milling about in the bullpen, and the way you peer up at him through your eyelashes during case briefings has him itching for a cold shower.

Neither have you said anything to the rest of the team, but at this point, Hotch doesn’t think he has to with the way both Dave and Morgan have patted him on the back the day after you laughed at something Emily had said and leaned against him, leaving his shoulder thrumming from your warmth for the next hour.

Another five minutes pass and Hotch can still hear the clinking of your serums as you rummage through your cosmetics bag. He silently sets aside his phone to get up from his extremely comfortable spot in the bed to pad his way over to the bathroom.

The sight that greets him has Hotch’s stomach plummeting all over again.

You’re sporting that same headband with the pink bow again, however this time, you’re wearing one of his old academy shirts that had mysteriously gone missing from his dresser several weeks ago. You’re freshly showered and you’re holding onto some kind of strangely shaped metallic instrument that you’re scraping over your cheekbones and then down your neck. The way it drags over your skin has Hotch cringing sympathetically.

You immediately spot him, meeting his gaze through the mirror, and the way your eyes immediately light up has a small smile forming on Hotch’s face before he can help it. “Hey you.”

“Hey.” Hotch leans against the doorway, content to watch the clearly practiced movements of you rubbing your skin with this strange contraption. “It’s been over five minutes.”

You pout. “Sorry, I’ve been holding this off all week and I need to do it tonight.”

Hotch was sure that “need” was a strong word, but he doesn’t question it. He stopped questioning your thorough skincare routine months ago.

And then you turn to him, something mischievous tugging at your glossy lips. “Wanna try it?”

Apprehension thuds in his chest, but he takes a step forward into the glow of the bathroom anyway. “And what is it exactly?”

Detecting your hesitation a mile away, you give him a warm smile as you hold it up to him. “It’s called a gua sha. It’s supposed to help with blood flow and getting rid of toxins and all that.”

Hotch may not be a beauty or skincare expert, but he has doubts that this piece of metal can actually do all of those things. To be fair, he’s had quite a few doubts about most of the items you use and not so subtly make him try.

The delight painted clear on your face though has Hotch tucking those thoughts away. He’s sure he has no right to question one’s own method on how to relax.

“Okay.”

You immediately muffle a squeal and turn to grab some other serum you left out on the sink, a light gold swimming around in the bottle.

“I’ll only do half of your face, I promise.” You squeeze some of the mysterious liquid on your hands and reach up to pat the left side of his face.

It’s thicker than your usual products, most likely some kind of oil that smells like roses, but the heat from your hand and your close proximity has Hotch feeling inexplicably warm all over.

“Okay, now you just use this side to run up your cheekbone like this.” You demonstrate for him and he adamantly makes note of the light pressure you’re using. “And then you run it down your face and down your neck.”

When he attempts to copy your movements with the warm metal, he doesn’t notice any difference in how his skin feels or the blood flow in his face, but you’re studying him so closely that Hotch is tempted to say he does.

It’s a strange sensation, but honestly it doesn’t feel any different than if he used his own fingers to rub up against his cheekbone or jawline.

When he puts the piece of metal back in your open palm, you’re nearly teeming with excitement. “So, what do you think?”

He pauses. “I don’t think it’s for me, sweetheart.”

You pout but he can tell that you’re not offended. “Boo. Fine, I’ll meet you in bed, handsome.”

Hotch is about to turn back to go to bed before he remembers the thick oil covering half of his face, evenly dispersed but still uncomfortable and will surely stain his pillowcase. He attempts to discreetly wipe at it with his hand as best as he can before quickly rubbing it off on your arm and escaping.

The screech you let out echoes in his bathroom as you try to swat at him and narrowly miss, and the way he feels heat tinge at the tip of his ears is better than any metallic contraption’s claim to improve blood flow.

On his days off, Hotch much prefers spending as much time as he can at home, either with Jack, you, or, more recently, both. Even if Hotch technically sees you every day in the bullpen, you at work is much different than the you at home.

Or at least, he likes to think there’s a difference as you drag him to the grocery store during what was possibly the quietest afternoon he’s had in several months.

I just have to pick up a couple of things, you had said as you buckle your seatbelt in the passenger side. We’ll be back home in a jiffy.

Never mind the fact that the word home coming from your lips has Hotch’s mind reeling. You’ve been seeing each other for several months now and he’s almost sure that you haven’t stepped foot in your own apartment for at least a month. You’ve taken up half of his dresser, most of his closet space, and the entirety of the counter space in the bathroom with your multi-colored serums and skincare tools that don’t work no matter what you claim.

He follows you around the store, dutifully pushing the grocery cart, as you mentally go through your checklist on all the toiletries you’re almost out of. Which is why he finds himself in the cosmetics aisle when you exclaim “Oh, I forgot about tomatoes for taco Tuesday!” and scamper off before he could say there were plenty of tomatoes from last time in the fridge because Jack has suddenly decided he doesn’t like them anymore.

He's content to wait, maybe check his emails on his phone, when he spots the familiar label of his face wash out of the corner of his eye.

It’s a brand that Haley had recommended for him when they were in college and Hotch knew absolutely nothing about skincare then, so he just continued buying it. He’s gone through countless bottles over the years, having used it nearly every day, yet Hotch finds himself frowning as he stares at the bright orange bottle.

The large bold letters advertise the cleanser being able to effectively combat oiliness, but Hotch distinctly remembers you offhandedly mentioning how lucky he was to have dry skin and not a combination like you.

Honestly, he had no idea, but it would make sense with how you’re constantly slathering him in lotions and creams any chance got.

He browses through the available cleansers, keeping an eye out for those that treat dry skin, when you sidle up next to him with a bag of tomatoes that were undoubtedly not going to get eaten. He can hear the hesitation in your voice when you ask “What are you doing?”

“Looking for something different.”

“Oh yeah? I knew I was wearing you down, Hotchner. Soon, you’re going to be begging me to take you to Sephora.” You’re joking but Hotch can detect the underlying seriousness in your voice.

He continues as if he didn’t hear you. “I’ve been using the wrong face wash for my skin so I’m looking for a different one. I probably haven’t been doing my skin any favors all these years.”

A pause. And then, incredulously, you say “Who taught you that?”

Finding one that was a good size and affordable enough to try, Hotch grabs it and throws it into the cart. When he meets your eyes, you’re staring up at him with a disbelieving smile.

“You did.” And it’s true—Hotch would’ve never thought about the long-term benefits of having a humidifier in the bedroom or the importance of sunscreen everyday if it weren’t for you. Taking care of your appearance was clearly important to you, which meant it was now important to him.

You stare at him, lips parted as if you’re at a loss for words. Your skin is glowing even under the harsh fluorescent grocery store lighting. “You’re such a sweet talker, you know that?”

You toss the tomatoes in the cart, making him wince, and loop your arm through his to tug him along the aisle. You smell sugary sweet with maybe a hint of his cologne from where you had slept in one of his old shirts last night. Hotch remembers how he had felt lightheaded, fondness flooding his chest, when he woke to you laying on his chest this morning. He tugs you closer into his side.

“Does this mean that you’ll try that new light therapy mask that I bought?”

“One step at a time, honey.”

taglist <3 @kiwriteswords @solardrop @knitmeatardis @mggslover @maeintree @pastelpinkflowerlife @storiesofsvu @actualdeemon

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader fluff #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #mine #aaron hotchner

171 notes · View notes

goosewriting · 1 day ago

Note

Could I get a scenario for joaquin x reader: where the reader is an avenger (she was like a protege to clint and natasha) but her main job was designing the suits and gear for other superheroes that works better with their fighting styles. Sams nickname for her is Sketch.

Sam introduces her to joaquin at Isaiahs gym (she trains there but looks after him on sams behalf). She starts to study joaquin to better understand how to equip his suit. After one of their cases, joaquin wanted to make a note in their sketch book where their designs are but ends up finding a different notebook that are not suit/gear sketches, but sketches of everyday things and most of the sketches are of him. Reader walks in to see joaquin found their personal sketch book and freaks out and becomes a stuttering mess. They end up confessing to each other and please make it extra fluffy. Maybe throw in a kiss or two lol. Sorry if this is long, but I had some inspo and your work has been lovely 😊

Sketch

summary: Joaquín discovers that reader’s sketchbook features a lot of drawings of himself.

relationship: Joaquín Torres x gn!reader

warnings: none, fluff! kisses, maybe secondhand embarrassment lol

word count: 4.2k

A/N: i decided to use ‘sewist’ here as a gender neutral term instead of seamster/seamstress. i also changed it a lil bit so that Sam hasn’t seen the green suit yet. and i added a lil bit more at the end to lead up to the kiss, which i hope you’ll like!<3 tysm for requesting, this was such an adorable ask,, it took form in my mind almost immediately and i kept squealing at how tooth-rottingly fluffy this one would be 🙈🙈

[all masterlists] 🪶 [mcu masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

For years, you’ve been in the Avengers’ orbit, helping out by designing their costumes and fighting at their side. After coming back from the blip and getting the news that many of your friends were gone, you decided to fully go into the designing side of helping out all heroes. You’ve made countless garments and weapons of all shapes, sizes and materials.

So while you still keep up with your training, these days you consider yourself more of a sewist and tinkerer than anything else. You mainly hang out with Sam, who introduced you to Isaiah Bradley, one of the few super soldiers still alive from back in the day. He’s let you claim one of the empty offices of his gym as your workspace. You like working there while there’s background noise, be it music or other people training in the ring or with the equipment.

In exchange for using the gym as your base of operation of sorts, you help Sam take care of Isaiah by taking walks with him and making sure he’s eating properly. He may not be physically frail for his age, given the serum, but he’s as stubborn as he’s strong. Since he’s gotten a bit of a soft spot for you over time, you try your best to keep him busy and content.

One day, Sam comes in with someone new. From where you sit in your office, which has a window to the main training area, you see your friend approach with someone you don’t know, so you get up and approach them. Immediately you come to the realisation that this new guy is extremely handsome and charming.

“This is Joaquín,” Sam introduces him.

“Joaquín Torres, Air Force Captain,” he says, stretching out his hand to you. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“And this is Sketch,” Sam continues, pointing to you.

“Sketch?” Joaquín asks with a slight tilt of his head. You chuckle and tell him your name, shaking his hand.

“That’s just what Sam calls me,” you explain with a smile.

“Yeah, well, you’re sketching in your book all the time,” he says and elbows your side playfully, then turns back to Joaquín to tell him how you’ve helped design most of the outfits everyone has worn over the years, including his new Captain America suit.

“That’s impressive,” Joaquín says with raised brows and looks at you. A slight heat erupts on your face at the earnest look in his eyes. “Sam was so kind to let me have his old Falcon suit. You think I could run some ideas by you?”

“Of course,” you offer, pointing to your office. “Come by any time.”

From that day on, Joaquín drops by the gym several times a week, with or without Sam. He mainly uses the time to train with Isaiah, but he also enjoys visiting you and watching you work, chatting about anything and everything while you sew away.

One morning he comes in to train, and from where you sit at your desk, you can see Joaquín at one of the treadmills. Despite your best efforts, your eyes keep drifting to his figure doing some cardio, with his back to you. At one point he changes to another machine, where he pulls a bar up and down, with the weights lifting and sinking behind him, sitting so that he’s facing your office. Again, you find your gaze drifting to the window instead of focusing on the work on your desk. Risking taking a proper look, you lift your eyes and look to the side. To your surprise and shock, you find him looking at you as well. Both of you are quick to avert your eyes, cheeks prickling with heat.

That afternoon, you come out of the office to take some measurements. Sam puts on a mock-up of his new suit you’ve made, and you diligently measure everything, taking notes in your sketchbook that you use for designing. Joaquín stands next to you, arms crossed over his chest, following your movements curiously. As you finish measuring Sam’s arm in different positions, you turn back to your book, using some piled up boxes as a table, and jot down the numbers.

“Do you have all designs in there?” Joaquín asks, pointing to your sketchbook. You pause momentarily, caught off-guard by the question, then you turn to him.

“I mean, not all of them,” you explain. “There’s probably at least forty more books, all with previous iterations and ideas for everyone’s suits and gear.”

“Wow,” he says, looking at Sam and giving an impressed nod. But then he turns back to you with a mischievous smile, and Sam rolls his eyes, knowing what he’s going to ask. “Do you also have sketches of Ant-Man’s suit?”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully, then look over to Sam. He merely shakes his head with a chuckle.

“Unfortunately no. It wasn’t me who designed his suit,” you say, and Joaquín looks a bit disappointed at that. Now it’s your turn to look at him with a glint in your eyes. “That’s oddly specific. Don’t tell me, you’re a fan?”

“Of course I am,” Joaquín retorts, and Sam laughs, giving him a pat on his shoulder.

“I’m still not introducing you,” he says, and Joaquín pouts.

You laugh as well, then clasp your hands together, giving your sketchbook one last look.

“Okay, Sam, you’re all done, now it’s your turn.” You turn to Joaquín, who’s looking at you expectantly. “Your suit is in my office, there’s a changing room, you can go put it on there.”

“Hell yeah,” he says, starting towards the office, turning to Sam as he walks backwards. “You’re gonna love this.”

Sam looks at you with confusion and suspicion.

“Just wait and see,” is all you give him.

A couple minutes later, Joaquín comes out of the office donning his Falcon suit. Sam looks him up and down, recognising the design.

“Is that…”

“Yep,” Joaquín says with outstretched arms to show off his new look, doing a twirl.

“The new colour was his idea,” you say, walking all around Joaquín to check if the suit sits properly. You come to a short stop when next to him, and lift your eyes to meet his. “And I think green really suits him.”

As you continue checking him over, you miss the knowing look that Joaquín and Sam exchange.

“Oh, this doesn’t look quite right,” you say, noticing how there seems to be extra fabric at his waist, instead of sitting flush. You grab your fabric marker, drawing some lines where you’ll need to take in the sides. Only when you’re done do you realise how close to Joaquín you’ve been standing, and how his gaze is cast to the side, a flustered look on his face. You’re quick to take a step back, thinking you might have made him uncomfortable.

“So, how does it feel? Any pinching? Can you move properly?” you ask him, perhaps a little too quickly in an attempt to change the subject, and he starts moving his limbs in all possible angles, trying out the suit. “If there’s anything at all, please let me know.”

You pick up your sketchbook to take some notes as he continues trying out the range of motion.

“Nope,” Joaquín finally says, coming to a halt, and his smile makes your heart hiccup. “It’s perfect, really.”

You look away, feeling the heat prickling at your cheeks, and the look Sam is giving you is certainly not helping.

“Well if there’s anything at all, or any ideas you might have later, feel free to add them to the sketchbook,” you say, showing him the page where the Falcon suit design is. “Even if I’m not around, there’s post-it notes in my office. Feel free to write down any ideas you might have.”

“Will do,” Joaquín says.

“Alright, we’re done then. Thanks to you both,” you say, turning to Sam and then to Joaquín. They both nod in acknowledgement, and you walk back to your office with Joaquín to drop off your sketchbook and materials, leaving it all on your already cluttered desk.

You walk out again so that Joaquín can change in peace, and you see Sam get his phone of his pocket. He reads a text and announces he has to go, so you accompany him outside for a moment to see him off.

When Joaquín comes back out from changing, he finds the two of you gone. Since he’s still holding the suit, he leaves it on the bench in your office, where there’s piles of fabric and other materials. He lets his eyes roam over the space, strangely endeared by how much it contrasts with the rest of the gym. This corner really feels lived in, he concludes. There’s hints of you everywhere.

He scans the desk next, seeing little figurines, varying from various animals to faceless wooden people, probably used to design the suits. There’s also several bobbins with coloured thread, post-it notes all over, and the sketchbook.

A thought occurrs to him of a change for his suit that he wanted to ask about earlier, but then promptly forgot when you ended up so close to him. Since you offered earlier for him to write down his ideas, he decides to do that before he forgets again. Without really looking, he grabs the sketchbook and opens it, his other hand going for the post-it notes and a pen. However his movements come to a sudden stop when his eyes land on the open book. He flips to the next page and realises that is is not your sketchbook. Well, it is, but not the one he meant.

Joaquín quickly shoots another look to the desk below, only now seeing the other sketchbook peeking out from underneath some other materials which you had used earlier when he was trying on the suit. He knows he shouldn’t snoop, but when his eyes land back on the drawings in his hands, he can’t look away.

This seems to be your personal sketchbook, full of ink and pencil sketches of different daily objects, landscapes, the gym. He recognises the ducks in a pond to be the park nearby, there’s a couple of sketches of Isaiah, Sam, and then him. Joaquín’s heart flutters as he flips another page. Him again. His mind is screaming that he’s very much intruding in your privacy right now by looking at all of these, but he just can’t stop himself, as he finds that the more pages he flips through, there’s fewer and fewer landscapes and animals and almost every sketch is of him. From the back, pulling weights, smiling, laughing, focused while reading something. The strokes around his face start out a little unsure, a bit squiggly even, like they were drawn in a rush. But with every new sketch, your hand seems to have grown more and more sure, flowing over the page until you knew the shapes by heart, his eyes, the curve of his nose, where each and every mole and freckle sat on his skin. He swallows thickly as he flips one more page, his eyes landing for merely a split second on an unfinished sketch of him from behind with no shirt on, the contours of his nape and shoulders marked over again repeatedly, the lower half only sketched out softly, like you hadn’t had a chance to–

Joaquín looks up at the sound that leaves your throat, something between a shriek and a horrified gasp. You’ve appeared in your office again, but he didn’t hear you approach at all. Your eyes dart between the book in his hands and his face, your own beyond flustered as you realise what he just saw. With quick steps, you shorten the distance and snatch the book from his hands, snapping it closed with a forceful thud. He opens his mouth to apoligise profusely, but you’re quicker.

“You weren’t supposed to see that!” Your voice is squeaky, and the embarrassment and shock on your face shift to something closer to anger. “What were you doing?”

“I swear I didn't mean to snoop!” Joaquín says, raising his hands in defence, then points to his suit still on the bench as he rambles. “Sam and you were gone and I wanted to check the notes on the suit again, but I guess I grabbed the wrong sketchbook, and I’m so sorry, I swear it was an accident.”

You groan, your anger dissipating and making room for the earlier emotions again, and you lift your closed sketchbook to cover your face, shoulders tense as you hide behind it.

“I hope you don’t think I’m a creep or something” you say in a small voice, and he chuckles. That’s not the reaction you expected, so you open your eyes and peek over the book to look at him. An adorable blush starts dusting his cheeks.

“Of course not,” he says softly, fidgeting with some clutter on your desk before bringing his eyes to meet yours. You hide behind the book again. “I’m flattered, truly. I get why Sam calls you Sketch, there’s a lot of them. They’re really good.”

There’s a pause, and your hands tighten around the book. Surely he’s just teasing you.

“You really think so?” you risk the question.

“I do,” he says. You’re still not looking at him, and you think you hear Joaquín take somewhat of a sharp breath. “You know, I’ve been stealing my own fair share of glances at you too, I just lack any artistic skill, otherwise I would–” He stops himself abruptly. You dare peek over the book again, and he looks just as flustered as you do, which you find reassuring, but doesn’t really help you calm down. He lifts his eyes to meet yours, and you hold his gaze this time.

“What I’m trying to say is that some of the sketches seemed a bit rushed. I wouldn't mind it if you… took your time.”

“Are you offering to model for me?” you say after a moment. His blush darkens a bit, and he nods sheepishly. You need to force yourself to breathe normally. “I’d like that,” you add in a small voice.

In that moment, Isaiah enters the gym and calls Joaquín over. He excuses himself and joins the older man while you sit down at your desk, finally letting go of your book, and find your hands trembling. Did that just happen?

After a moment of just sitting there and looking down at the book, now slightly bent from your grip, Joaquín comes back to your office, and you look up.

“Isaiah is going home, and Sam already left,” he announces, then seems to think something over. “Would you like to grab some dinner? Right now. With me, I mean. Or in a bit. Whenever you have time.”

“Let me just finish up quickly here and I’ll be right outside.” The words leave your mouth before you can even process his request.

“Okay,” he shoots you a smile so radiant that it knocks the breath out of your lungs, and you hold onto the edge of your chair out of his sight, fearing you might collapse to the floor right then and there.

Without wasting a second once he’s gone, you’re quick to put everything away and place Joaquin’s suit on your desk so that it would be the first thing you work on tomorrow. You put the sketchbook with the design notes in the top drawer, and the one with your personal sketches you pack into your bag. Another wave of heat prickles at your cheeks when you hold it, thinking back to how Joaquín had seen your many drawings of him.

After you join him outside, Joaquín and you walk to a nearby restaurant, it’s small and there aren’t many people there yet as it’s still pretty early in the evening. Sam and you come here all the time, the atmosphere is cosy and the menu is really good. You guide Joaquín to one of the booths at the end and order some food, a pleasant conversation taking place while you eat.

Once you’re done eating, you wipe your hands on the napkin and take out your sketchbook and mechanical pencil, clicking it a couple of times to get the lead out.

“Oh, right now? Okay,” he says, and leans back into his seat. “What should I do?”

You flip the pages as quickly and nonchalantly as you can magange until you land on the last sketch, and you clear your throat.

“M-maybe we’ll leave this one for another time,” you say in a small voice, flipping to the next blank page. Joaquín unsuccessfully tries to bite back a smile at the proposition. You scan the room around you. “Just, uhm, lean your head onto your hand and look to the side for now, at that picture with the flowers for example.” You point to the frame on the wall.

“Okay,” he breathes, leaning his head on a propped up elbow and lifting his gaze to it, but it flickers back to you. “Should I like, smile, or something?”

“Whichever you prefer,” you say, and start sketching on the paper. Your eyes dart up to him and then back to the page repeatedly.

After a moment, when you look up, you find him with his face still tilted like you indicated, but his eyes are on you. Your movements stop and you feel a shudder climb up your spine, but it’s not entirely unpleasant, it makes your skin tingle. You hold your pencil to the page, unable to look away from him.

“You’re supposed to look that way,” you say, gesturing to the side with your chin.

“I like this view better than the flowers, though,” he says, seemingly completely unfazed, while your face is set ablaze. You can’t think of any good comeback, so as you look back down to your sketchbook, you mumble, “Suit yourself.”

The next few minutes are spent in comfortable silence, save for the music and background chatter, where your flustered face shifts into focus, and you work diligently to translate his handsome features onto the page. All the while, he watches you work, enjoying the different expressions you make when you get something wrong and erase it, or when you finally figure it out and confidently place stroke after stroke onto the paper. As he comes to the conclusion that he could watch you forever and never get bored of the sight, another blush spreads on his cheeks, and he has to look away for a moment.

Once you’re done, you add final details here and there, then place down your pencil and hold up your book, checking the drawing over. He drops his hand onto the table, expectantly waiting to see the finished product.

“It’s done,” you say, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious, and for a moment you consider not showing him. But after he sat so still for you, how could you not? So, gathering some more courage, you quickly turn the sketchbook around, placing it into his waiting hands, and you bring your gaze down to the table while he inspects it.

“Wow,” Joaquín breathes, and warmth spreads in your chest. “This is… This is incredible.”

“You like it?” you ask, daring to bring your eyes up to meet his.

“Of course!” He looks it over once more, pink still sprinkled on his cheeks, then gives you back the book. “You’re a fantastic artist. Thank you for drawing me.”

He looks like he wants to add something else, but then decides against it. Your brows furrow slightly.

“What? What is it?” Your mind immediately goes to negative comments, like he was about to follow up with a ‘but’, saying that it didn’t even look like him, or that you brought out all his worst features and insecurities.

“How do I put this,” he says more to himself than you, propping up his elbows on the edge of the table and bringing his closed hands to his chin. It takes him a second to find the right words, and when he looks up to meet your gaze, your heart skips a beat. A warm smile starts spreading on his lips as he talks. “Compared to the ducks in the pond, I feel like you put more care and attention to detail into drawing me. Seeing myself through the eyes of someone who… You know. Someone like you. I kinda feel invincible right now.”

You can’t help but laugh heartily, not in a mocking manner, but more so in relief, as you feel exactly the same.

“Well, I’m glad I could give you a glimpse, then,” you say, and for a moment, you’re so lost in each others’ eyes, you don’t see the waiter approach.

“I hope everything was to your taste,” the guy says in a practiced customer service voice, and you both jump slightly. He starts taking your empty plates that you pushed aside. “Would you like to ordersome dessert?”

Joaquín and you decide to share some ice cream, and once you’re done, he pays for the meal despite your protests, insisting that it was him who invited you to dinner after all, and you walk back to his car.

“I’ll make sure to have your suit done first thing tomorrow,” you promise when you arrive, and your hand reaches out to open the door, but he takes it in his instead, interlocking your fingers, and you turn toward him with big eyes.

“I may not be an artist,” he says seemingly out of nowhere, stepping closer while still giving you enough space to back off if you wanted to. “But I can give you a glimpse of how I see you in other ways.”

Your brain short circuits for a second, taken completely off-guard by his comment. His other hand comes up to your face, softly brushing his knuckles over your cheek, which surely feels much too hot to the touch. You’re now somewhat trapped between Joaquín and the car, while he’s still making sure you can step aside, but you have no intention of doing that. So your own hands come up, trembling a bit, and you place them on this chest. He takes that as a sign to get even closer, and you can feel his racing heart through his shirt, matching your own erratic heartbeat.

“For example?” you demand, but your voice is so weak, you're not entirely sure if he heard you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, and his hand fully cups your cheek. “I’ll admit I've been wanting to for a while now.”

Unable to produce a single word, you merely nod, your eyes fluttering closed as he leans in. It’s still pretty early and there could be people walking by and see you, but you don’t care. Once his lips are on yours, the whole world around you disappears. You’re glad the car holds part of your weight and you can partially lean onto it, since your legs seem close to give out underneath you. The hand on your face cradles the back of your head while the other snakes around your waist. Joaquín kisses you slowly, tenderly. He gingerly takes your bottom lip between his teeth and gives it a slight tug, and he swallows the shaky breath that escapes you, his mouth on yours again.

The kiss lasts forever and not nearly long enough at the same time, and when he pulls back, you blink a couple of times, looking up him.

“Wow,” is all you manage to say, and he chuckles, backing off you so you can stand properly again. He opens the door for you and you take a seat, still unable to form a single coherent thought.

Joaquín walks around the front of the car and climbs in as well, turning on the navigation system.

“Where to?” he asks, and when he turns to look at you, waiting for you to tell him you address, you grab the collar of his bomber jacket, pulling him close to you once more to give him another kiss. But before he can fully melt into it, you let him go, and quickly sit back.

“Sorry, oh god.” You cover your face with your hands, and he chuckles again. He gently pries your fingers away so you look at him, and gives your hand a squeeze.

“Don’t be,” he says, bringing your hand to his face and placing a kiss on your knuckles.

The way his eyes glisten in the dark, only illuminated by the street light outside the car, sends an explosion of butterflies straight through your gut and you have to look away. To distract yourself from the erratic pace your heart is beating at, you bring your attention to the console and enter your address, starting the navigator. Joaquín starts the car and you take off.

“Will you come back by the gym again tomorrow?” you ask after a while.

“If it were up to me, I’d be there every day,” he says, and you feel even more heat spread on your face, if that’s even possible. “I’ll try my best to come by, I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Maybe you can finish that one sketch of yours,” he says with a smug grin, and you playfully hit his shoulder with an embarrassed groan as you remember the drawing of his bare back you had started on a whim but couldn't bring yourself to finish.

As Joaquín drives you home and you sneak another looks at his side profile, you realise that at this rate you'll need a new sketchbook, dedicated entirely to him.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @f1-tennisgirlie @magikdarkholme @tsunchani @Chuchu8293 @bitchy-bi-trash @guynamedaurel @crumbledcastle28 @sarahskywalker-amidala @crazy4lyricb

#goose feathers #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #tfatws joaquin x reader #tfatws joaquin x you #brave new world joaquin x reader #the falcon x reader #marvel #mcu x reader #mcu

147 notes · View notes

random-arcane-fan · 2 days ago

Text

transcriptions below the cut

Arcane's relationship with League lore

I really don't know anything about LoR. The intent was to fill gaps in lore with Arcane, but stay mostly consistent. There's exceptions, certainly, we did have full support to tell the story we wanted and we wanted our characters' actions to feel consistent within Arcane.

Vi & Caitlyn

reply to AnComAlice: Ever since Vi came out in the game, I've always thought, "Why are you a cop?" Do you ever feel constrained by the source material?

Not in Arcane. I love telling difficult stories. Those are the best kinds.

reply to deebriedee: Will there still be "aww" moments between Cait & Vi even if a romantic relationship is established? So many shows have that one couple everyone ships but the moment they get together or the relationship is solidified by a kiss etc, nothing happens afterwards and I'd hate that.

I can't say anything about what may or may not happen. We are trying to tell believable stories based on characters' "lived" experience. That doesn't sound very believable to me?

reply to caitcupcakelyn: I have a question: Did Caitlyn falsify the release order on Jayce's behalf? Since when Marcus mentions it to Jayce he looks surprised, and also Mrs. Kiramman tells Kait that she has violated several rules...

Yes! She used the knowledge Jayce just told her about him becoming a Councilor, and the offer he made to become her "head of security" to falsify a release order.

not replies:

There are several moments in the season where Vi is surprised by Caitlyn and looks at her differently. The animators did a phenomenal job tracking that subtext with her expressions, but the storyboard artists also had a hand, giving Vi closeups in those key moments.

Vi mentions it in her first scene with Caitlyn, but the Warden was implying that they would beat Vi to punish her every time she would beat up one of Silco's goons that ended up in Stillwater.

reply to skyllianhamster: I was a bit taken aback by Vi's callousness at the kid Jayce killed. I imagine the context was regarding exposure to death, which Jayce hasn't seen much of, but I read it in the context of death as normal collateral damage, which sounded cold for Vi. Thoughts on that scene?

Vi doesn't show her real feelings about the boy's death because it doesn't help her make her point to Jayce. But when he's not looking you can see how upset she is.

Vi & Jinx

They were all children, even Vi. It was traumatic experience [sic] and no one can blame children for their trauma. What Jinx says is her own warped perspective. Honestly, they all need therapy.

Vi has put all her hope of saving Powder into defeating the villain she believes created her: Silco. She takes out years of pent up frustration and rage on Svika, whom she thinks is the only thing standing between her and Silco.

On why Marcus took Vi

Marcus felt guilty for how his dealings with Silco lead to the death of Grayson, and wanted to do something to make amends. Vi would've died if she went after Silco in that moment and he knew it.

On the words "god" and "hell" showing up in dialogue

I know there are beings in Runeterra that are revered like gods or goddesses so we are ok with characters using that terminology. That example wasn't in the script so it must have been added by Hailee and left in because the team liked what it brought to her performance so much.

On English being used

Practically, their writing is not English because our global viewers won't hear the show in English. Creatively, Piltover is a melting pot of cultures, the reason some things are written in it is similar to how we recognize words in other languages that have universal meanings.

How the hextech weapons work

The gemstone powered the rocket with Hextech augmented acceleration (similar to the Hexgates). It's not consumed, just like Vi's gauntlets and Jayce's hammer don't consume their gemstones.

Silco

Silco grew up working in the mines and has a little tolerance to the gas. He also knew it was coming, and the others didn't.

reply to Darkri97: I only have a few if thats alright 1) If the water itself is toxic and open wounds react the way they do like with Silco what happened to Vander's arm since it was cut? 2) Is there any concept art listing everyone's height? 3) could we ever see concept art of the whole cast?

1) The eye is a delicate organ, which is why Silco's reaction was so strong.

[nothing missing; if there were other answers, they're cropped out]

reply to thelittleworms: After Silco met and talked with Vi in ep 6. Did Silco really believe Vi didn't come for her sister. Or he told Jinx like that because h didn't want to lose her? Or another reason?

He lied to her to manipulate her feelings.

not a reply:

Silco wears make up in Act 2 & 3 to cover his scars. One way he tries to bury his trauma.

reply to TearsOfaStay: Hi Amanda. First, a bog [sic] thanks to you and all arcane staff for this fabulous show. I don't know you can still answer questions. Have you considered silco's character in kind of a father love for jinx or he just raised and kept her bcs of his aims for having zaun independent?

Silco has his own fear of abandonment issues and uses those to manipulate Jinx. Even though it comes from that twisted place, I think Silco believes what he says when he tells Jinx she's perfect and he loves her like a father.

Trauma

reply to miliamalae: Hi Amanda! The writing for Arcane is stunningly observant in terms of mental health, trauma and how difficult experiences shape people. Did you rely on some pre-writing research, or is it mostly your own intuition? Either way - it is absolutely incredible! Thank you so much.

This was a big team effort of both research and intuition. It's certainly not everyone's experience with trauma, but hopefully believable in the heightened reality of a fantasy world? Glad you thought so, anyways.

Vander & the kids

Vander knew the girls before. Mylo and Claggor's parents also died on the bridge and Vander took them in like he took in Vi and Powder.

Vi and Powder snuck out when they weren't supposed to and followed Vander and their parents. I don't know their ages, but I think we were going for Vi being about the same age here as Powder is in act one.

Viktor

We have a backstory for Viktor that wasn't made canon to explain how he got into the Academy. His parents saved their money to buy him a uniform and he pretended to be a student until he gained Heimerdinger's attention. Instead of punishing him, Heimer made him his assistant!!

Jayce's opinion on Heimer

reply to ELWINDS: hi amanda! when jayce decided to push heimerdinger off of the council, how much of that decision was based on what he ACTUALLY said in the council room (his inaction on fixing issues with zaun, etc) vs heimerdinger wanting to destroy his only hope for saving viktor?

This is my opinion, but in that moment Jayce was using all those things he mentioned as a tool, but all he really cared about was saving Viktor. If Heimerdinger wasn't going to use his power on the Council to destroy the Hexcore, I don't think Jayce would've done it.

not a reply:

Jayce has been dealing with the council through Mel to get his Hextech approved and to build the Hexgates for a long time. He's been frustrated with their inaction for longer than we see onscreen in the show.

Ekko

Ekko is a little older than Jinx, I think he's like 19–20. After Vander died he went around helping Silco's victims until they had a little rag tag crew of people like him who wanted to help. They found the tree and were able to slowly expand into the Firelights.

I think Ekko beat Jinx in that fight because he learned from his mistakes in the childhood game, and was able to predict and dodge her moves.

reply to Ronie_6: Hi Amanda! Here is a question that I think I haven't seen: Ekko's parents are alive in Arcane? Or is he an orphan? (In the Universe page he has a short story called Lullaby that mentions them, but in Arcane he seem [sic] to live with the firelights) Thank you so much for everything! 💖

Sorry, I can't answer this for many reasons. None of which I can share.

Just a collection of what I feel were the more interesting tweets from Amanda Overton’s AMA:

Arcane’s relationship with League lore:

(emphasis mine)

(I read the “consistent within Arcane” as “please stop bugging us over very minor nitpicks”)

Vi & Caitlyn:

(no offense but I interpret that as cop!Vi is absolutely coming)

Sounds pretty straight forward to me that yes of course Vi and Cait would still be romantic if they became a couple as she would consider the opposite to be not believable behavior.

Vi & Jinx:

On why Marcus took Vi:

(LOL, no offense to Amanda, but I still think that that is a terrible reason/character motivation, to translate “he felt bad” to “I’m going to put a teenager in prison without a trial for 6-7 years” )

On the words “god” and “hell” showing up in dialogue:

On English being used:

How the hextech weapons work:

Silco:

Glad to hear it, I was kind of worried they might rewrite him into somebody who was privileged somehow and hence being a hypocrite.

(I read that as a “no” on “he was just using/keeping her for crime stuff” but on a��“yes it is unhealthy because he is manipulating her because he clings to her due to his own abandonment issues”)

Trauma:

Vander & the kids:

Viktor:

Jayce’s opinion on Heimer:

Ekko:

Just a list of topics she went “sealed lips” on:

- people asking about how the League character of Camille intersects with the story of Arcane - people asking about more details on Ekko and Powder’s relationship

#not formatted like a proper image description #but I wanted a text version of everything #//#official #meta #Amanda Overton #src: twitter #Vi #worldbuilding #and other characters and subjects but those are what stood out to me #love that Vi's S1 morals are effectively “affiliated with Silco? die”#the Council's considering negotiations? no. go to WAR #homegirl has a lot of care to give and you either got it or you don't. fuck everyone else #and in the world department:#god(ly being)s real. cool #+the english tidbit is interesting #kind of implies certain english words are loanwords? primarily names #(seen on the arcade scoreboard #plus Jinx's various writings)#or maybe that they're all /speaking/ english (or insert-dub-language-here) but /writing/ smthn else?#like the doylist answer would seem to be that if we don't Need to read it then it's not readable #but I wouldn't have expected diegetic language to be touched upon period

1K notes · View notes

l0s3rd0wnt0wn · 2 days ago

Text

Batman!reader antics

Synopsis: Me having fun and doing little headcanons. I've been doing a lot of asks and really wanted to do something else. This is based mostly on the Justice League cartoon.

Batman!reader: Who isn't the best at making conversation when they first meet the Justice League, but the second you make a small, niche reference that Wally knows, he starts yapping your ear off, and you can't help but match his freakish energy with your own little references as the two of you giggle endlessly, speaking in a language you both only understand. Who knew the big, brooding bat was into Rush Hour and White Chicks?

Batman!reader: Who can't fly and will have others carry you places if the Batjet is out of fuel. Diana will be holding you bridal style as you try not to blush. Hal puts you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and you're literally yelling at him to put you down while blushing madly. Wally carries you on his back as he goes at high speeds, and Shayera will hold you with one arm like she's holding groceries. Clark will try to pick you up, but you get too flustered around him and refuse.

Batman!reader: Whose little Robin begs you to take her to the watchtower so she can see her favorite heroes? She's bouncing all over the place with excitement and squealing when she meets Superman or Captain Atom. She's taking pictures with everyone she meets, getting real shy trying to talk to the Question or Martian Manhunter, so she makes you get the picture or autograph for her. You'll have the members tell you it's not "Bring Your Kid to Work Day," but Oliver gets to bring his little Arrow, plus she's your equal.

Batman!reader: who asks some of the heroes to take care of their Robin, like going to Clark's apartment with your Robin at your hip, playing on her DS. "Can you take care of her for me? I have an important meeting to go to. I'm sorry to bother you on your day off. I'll make sure to take your shift." Clark, completely whipped by you, agrees on the spot and is great with kids; she'll come back sleeping on his shoulder, and you're surprised how he got her to sleep. Booster offers to take care of your Robin, and she's quite the handful, almost blowing up his penthouse, but seeing you smile at him with a look of appreciation makes the $10,000 damage worth it.

Batman!reader: Who stays up all night finishing a case and now is all sleepy, using their cape as a blanket or using Hal's shoulder as a place to rest their head. He'll stay still for you and pretend like it never happened. You'll wake up dazed and confused and see him on the other side of the watchtower, acting all nonchalant. If Kyle is around, he'll sketch your face and give you the drawing you teased him about posing for. He got super excited—really excited.

Batman!reader: Who has different suits for different seasons and events? In winter, you have a suit with a fuzzy scarf and fur-lined cape to keep you warm. You nuzzle your face into the scarf, and the League thinks it's adorable how easily you get cold. Or you have a portable fan in your suit when it gets hot. During fall, you have a hoodie instead of a cowl—you've got to stay fashionable. Even when you're an undercover vigilante.

Batman!reader: Who has snacks in their utility belt for your little Robin and Wally? She'll come to you thirsty, and you'll pull out juice boxes for your little bird. And Wally doesn't have something to snack on? You have protein bars for him to eat and energy drinks ready. He literally owes you everything, and it's honestly insane because you keep your smoke bombs near your lollipops, which are next to your batarangs. You might accidentally give your Robin a smoke bomb or batarang when they ask for a snack.

106 notes · View notes

apollosgiftofprophecy · 3 days ago

Text

one of the reasons why i love ToA so much is the little bits and pieces of the gods we get to see.

so i guess this is really more of a 'this is why i love the gods so much' rather than my usual 'this is why i love ToA' post lmao

but fr, the gods are just sooooo much more fleshed out in ToA. they're more complex, and have these layers to them that pjo and hoo just Did Not convey (and really, only conveyed those things post publication of ToA, which came with the tools on how to decode the gods and read between the lines).

and i'm not even talking about Apollo here. he is by far the most fleshed out god we have because he's the pov character, but i also mean all 12 of the other olympians - they're just so juicy!!

like okay, sure, in pjo and hoo we get glimpses that Dionysus may care more than he lets on, but ToA CONFIRMS this, but not in an 'in your face' way - but in the 'Dionysus picks at Apollo like a little brother would' way, and in that FIRST interaction between Apollo and Dionysus, we can SEE what their relationship was like!!

Hermes is another VERY layered god, ESPECIALLY with pjo's context. but that context ONLY gains its own importance BECAUSE of the story ToA gives us - we would NOT have 'resigned to fate' Hermes without it. or embittered at his favorite brother Hermes. we love this Hermes eheheheheheheh

Artemis also gains more character, and is no longer just the stoic cool badass #Girlboss she's largely presented as - she's scared, she fears for Apollo, so much so she SPLITS. she comes RUNNING to help him in TTT as soon as she could, giving her a softer side, while simultaneously expands on her previous appearances and allowing us to see how she is unconsciously enabling the abuse Apollo's experienced. LAYERS !! !! !!

DEMETER. OOOHHH DEMETER ILY, IN MYTHOLOGY AND THE RRVERSE. BUT FOR COMPLETELY DIFFERENT REASONS LMAO

we can infer Demeter has basically shot herself in the foot by obsessing so much over Persephone, where she NEGLETS her other kids (ex: Lityerses, Meg). myth Demeter would NEVER but rrverse Demeter is still a fav BECAUSE of how flawed she is.

ARESSSSS do i even need to say anything. we KNOW Ares and Apollo are bros because of how often Apollo takes pot-shots at him in his dialogue LMAO true brother behavior

Hades is a chill uncle with Apollo in particular. i mean. *gestures* he used to purposefully mess up Apollo's aim when shooting for no reason. need i say more?

looking back i'm also a little intrigued by how little Poseidon was mentioned - perhaps lending credence to the idea that he and Apollo grew apart over the centuries?

also Hestia's position as the goddess of the hearth and home calls into question how passive she is on olympus BECAUSE of the shitshow it's become!! she defends it!! what has caused the hearth and home, the FIRSTBORN OF KRONOS, of the ENTIRE PANTHEON to be so stagnant in the face of this toxic cycle? the people want to know and so do i.

Hephaestus is trickier to pin down for me because he has little mention, but there's one SPECIFIC one that has stuck in my brain and its the "apollo missed an entire decade watching Hephaestus's newton's cradle INSIDE HIS OFFICE"

what was apollo doing in his office. and why did hephaestus - notorious introvert - let him stay in there. these are the questions we are all dying to know.

ATHENAAAAAAA !! !! !! !! !! that nod she gives apollo at the end. her bet on his SUCCESS. need i say more? she's bros with him trust <3 add in the mythology and it gets SPICY

Aphrodite is arguably a tricky one to pin down too, and honestly we as a fandom have probably taken more from the mythos to pin down her character than with the others, but she's sooooo interesting too!! the eldest olympian. powerful goddess. extremely cunning and ruthless. and yet she's seen as airheaded and vain by practically everyone.

makes you wonder who else is like that. *quick glance at our favorite god* i dunno who that could be. *whistles innocently*

and do i need to say anything about Zeus? about the tragedy of him falling into the cycle he was meant to break? ABOUT THE TRAGEDY OF HOW HE DEF WANTED TO BE A FATHER BUT HIS PARANOIA GOT THE BETTER OF HIM UNTIL HE NO LONGER WAS ONE??

*seizes you by the shoulders* HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS. HOW.

and ofc. one of my FAVORITE gods...Hera. oh, ho ho Hera. you do NOT deserve the hate you get <3 okay maybe a bit of irritation is warranted because you do pull off risky things in hoo but we stan a goddess who takes charge in this house.

YOU CAN'T CONVINCE ME SHE'S GONNA BE - well, nicer? is that the right word? - BETTER WITH APOLLO POST-TOA. AFTER SEEING EVERYTHING HE SUFFERED? AFTER SEEING HIM SHED THE MASK? AFTER JASON GRACE?

*pounds mercilessly on the table* I WILL NEVER NOT BE ANNOYING ABOUT THEM I LOVE THEM ALL INCLUDING THE BITS OF CHARACTER FROM THE MINOR GODS WE GET TOO!!

#ramblings of an oracle #the trials of apollo #I WILL NEVER SHUT UP ABOUT THEM #this came on to me after i thought to myself “man why are you so obsessed with the gods more than the demigods?”#and to that i was like "well probably because there's deeper meaning behind their characters even between the lines.#the demigods' stories are pretty much wrapped up. but the gods? they're fresh. they have CHARACTER now. they're so dysfunctional.#but that makes them INTERESTING! it's a breath of fresh air to explore these more “adult” topics esp in a series typically aimed at kids!“#i love them your honor #trials of apollo #pjo apollo #toa apollo #pjo artemis #pjo hermes #pjo dionysus #pjo hephaestus #pjo ares #pjo aphrodite #pjo hera #pjo zeus #pjo hades #pjo demeter #pjo poseidon #pjo hestia #percy jackon and the olympians #the heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus

133 notes · View notes

planet-hwa · 1 day ago

Text

୨୧ imperfections and impurities – 성화

summary after seeing your mother for lunch one day, you're left with an enhanced view on your body: your "imperfections" — but you're lucky enough to have the most amazing boyfriend who's prepared to do whatever it takes to show you how perfect you truly are.

pairing seonghwa x reader genre established relationship, a little angst and a lot fluff + a whole lot of loving smut word count 3.5k

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

↳ warnings MDNI !! petnames/nicknames, body image issues, hurtful comments from family, swearing, protective!seonghwa, extreme body worship, extreme praise kink, nipple/breast play, mirror sex, fingering, dryhumping, overstimulation, squiritng, pussydrunk!seonghwa, cunnilingus, nose riding, unprotected quick-ish sex [wrap it up fr!!], the most gentle aftercare — implied chubbier reader but never specified

↳ navigation ◦ masterlist ◦ requests

❝ i want a better body, i want better skin — you look so pretty, pretty like the wind ❞ 🎧 now playing black friday ; tom odell

You gazed into the floor length mirror, the reflection spitting back at you an image you never enjoyed to see — yourself. The mirror began to warp your perception of what was real and what wasn’t, highlighting every flaw and imperfection you thought your body held. Pulling and poking at everything that was cast back at you: thighs, belly, chest, hips, waist and every other aspect of your body. You had insecurities, like everyone does, but you could usually contain them.

The difference between today and yesterday?

The lunch you had with your mother earlier in the day. The lunch in which she made it her job to ridicule and criticise everything about your appearance.

“Gosh dear, you’re looking a little more plump than usual.”

“That dress is not flattering your body at all.”

“Maybe you should order something small, keep that appetite in check.”

Tears began to prick the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill, as you reminded yourself of all the cruel comments your mother insisted on sharing.

“Hey Y/N, I’m about to order some dinner, do you want your usual?” Your boyfriend entered the room, eyes glued to his phone as he began noting the order. Wiping away any visibility of your gloom, you turned quickly and met Seonghwa’s lifted gaze with the best smile you could.

“I’m not really hungry, but you order something for yourself.” You tried to cover up the quake in your voice, trying not to worry him, but he was too quick to notice it.

“Darling, what’s wrong, has something happened?” He quietly moved towards you, his hands magnetically placing themselves on your hips and pulling you closer. “Talk to me, angel.”

He knew every one of your emotions and how you portrayed them, reading through them like a book. His gaze followed yours, even when you tried to avoid it. He noticed the glassiness of your eyes, and how you tried to hold in your emotions that you never wanted to burden him with. You didn’t look him directly in the eyes, knowing that the moment you looked at his face, you would burst into tears. His hands moved from your hips to your own, holding them so delicately — something that you weren’t. Leading you to the edge of the bed and sitting you down, he sat next to you, eyes still locked on your face and hands softly intertwined with yours. You both sat in silence, you not wanting to talk and him not wanting to push you to it.

“Do you think I’m fat?” Finally breaking the silence and looking up at him, his face instantaneously changing from worry to slight hurt.

“Of course not, darling.” His voice was overlaid with shock and sadness, to hear you even ask him that or believe that he would ever think of you like that was crazy to him. “Where has this come from?”

“My… my mother said that I ‘looked more plump than usual’, so… I wanted to know if you thought the same-”

“Never.” He cut you off quickly. “I would never think of you like that, because it isn’t true. You know your mother has fucked up views on her own weight and she’s only pushing onto you, which is completely wrong. That woman needs serious help.”

The sudden curse and defensiveness came as a shock to you. Seonghwa: who was always quite calm and content around you, rarely swearing and always soft spoken. To hear him become so protective of you made your heart flutter, realising that he truly did love you. His rant continued on his dislike towards your mother, not noticing the stare and small smile that sat on your face.

“And to think that she would say anything about your beautiful body when hers looks like that is absolutely insane-”

“Okay baby, I get it.” You lightly chucked, tracing your thumb over his hand in a soothing motion. His eyes met yours, softening when he saw your smile and the sparkle that returned to your eyes.

“I just need you to know that I love everything about you.”

“I know,” Sending him a warm smile and watching as his eyes outlined your features. “and I love you too.”

The corners of his lips turned upwards into a gentle smile, his hand moving to cup your face before pulling you in. Your lips connected like a puzzle piece, moving perfectly in sync, soft and filled with adoration from the both of you.

“I’m serious, I love everything about you.” Seonghwa disconnected the kiss, his breath lingering on your lips before his kisses began to move around your face.

“I love your smile.” Placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Your hair.” A kiss on your jawline.

“Your neck.” Lips now on your neck.

A light whimper fell through your parted lips, head tilting to the side to give him more access. He suckled on the sensitive skin of your neck ever so lightly, sending sensations through your entire body and straight between your legs. He smiled against your skin at the sounds you made, his fingers lingering on the hem of your skirt and rubbing soft circles on your thigh with his thumb.

“Let me show you just how much I love you.” He whispered in your ear, hot breath fanning against your neck yet sending chills down your spine.

Looking deep into your eyes for any hesitation and receiving none, with a small nod he stood you up and slowly slipped you out of your dress, revealing your true form that was treasured is a lavender lace set. His gaze moved up and down your body, completely in awe and hypnotised by the sight. You could see how much he enjoyed the view yet you still felt insecure, moving your hands across and attempting to cover your stomach.

“No darling, don’t do that.” Seonghwa whispered, tugging your hands away and replacing them with the touch of his.

Soft fingertips traced every curve in your body, his eyes watching their every move as he admired the beauty that stood in front of him. He could feel the slight tension you held, lifting a hand to your chin and connecting your lips in a dance. With one hand gently cupping your face, the other snaked its way around your waist to pull you closer to him, bodies practically merging into one.

The kiss grew passionate quickly, Seonghwa’s tongue tracing over your bottom lip and requesting access which was happily granted. Your tongues moved together intricately, neither of you fighting for dominance but embracing the intimating of it. He began to trail backwards, pulling you along with him until his knees hit the edge of the bed, breaking the kiss to sit down.

Looking up at you through his long lashes, he hooked his fingers under the band of your panties, holding your eye contact and he pulled them down and let them pool at your ankles. His hand snaked behind you once again, unclasping your bra in one swift motion and throwing it across the room. The way your plump breasts bounced out was always a sight he loved, never to get bored of though that was always a fear of yours. No matter how long the two of you were together, every time he saw you, it was like the first — he fell deeper and deeper in love.

His hand palmed at your breast, cold fingertips tracing over the hardened bud of your nipple before covering it with the warmth of his mouth. His tongue swirled over the bud, eliciting a sweet melody of soft moans from you, your hand cupping the back of his head and tangling itself in his long dark hair. Suckling lightly on your nipple, his other hand preoccupied itself by tightening around your waist and pulling you closer, now standing in between his parted knees. Finally letting go with a pop, he stared at the pink tinted skin he caused, a proud smirk curling at his lips before looking up at your lust-filled eyes.

“Turn around and sit on my lap for me, darling.” He requested.

Noticing your hesitance, he twirled you around slowly and pulled you down onto him, an arm wrapping around your waist to not let you leave. It was then that you realised the floor length mirror you were once staring at, forgetting it was placed at such an angle. Your naked reflection stared back at you once more, but all you could pay attention to was the head lent over your shoulder, eyes filled with undeniable lust and obsession.

“Like I said…” Seonghwa purred in your ear, placing elegant kisses on your bare shoulder. “I’m going to show you how much I love you.”

Before you could protest, you felt two slender fingers dip into and drag through your folds, the affects his previous praises had on you glistening evidently on his digits. He felt your body shudder against him as he grazed over your clit, a small whimper escaping you. Attempting to avoid eye contact with the reflection, Seonghwa wasn’t impressed and quickly grabbed your chin, pulling your gaze forcefully to watch.

“No darling, I need you to look at yourself.” He began to gently suck on your neck, watching you through hooded eyes. “I need you to see your beauty.”

With a tight grip around your waist, he collected your essence and dragged it through your already soaking folds. His fingertips traced your clit softly, small shapes and circles drawing out quiet moans from your parted lips. He watched you intently, making sure your eyes never left the mirror and gazed at your curiosity growing. Your eyes looked through the mirror at where he held you, observing the way his fingers moved over you so delicately yet with purpose.

“Look at her, a goddess.” Seonghwa praised, making you wetter in an instant. “My goddess.”

Quickening his movements, a pulsing sensation began to grow in between your legs, one he could feel underneath him and it encouraged him. His thumb replaced onto your clit as he pushed two slender fingers inside of your sopping hole, the clench around them immediate and causing him to let out a low groan at the feeling. Arm sliding down from your waist, he applied a small amount of pressure on your lower abdomen, bringing in a new sense of pleasure making you moan out instantly.

A melody of moans and whimpers filtered the room as he slowly pumped his digits in and out of you, thumb caressing your clit elegantly. Your hips began to buck hopelessly against his lap, chasing his movements as your orgasm grew closer — the sudden movement causing Seonghwa’s body to twitch, his hardened length pushing deep into your back. He buried his lips into your neck, placing wet kisses along the bare skin he could reach to contain his moans.

“You’re doing so good, darling.” He could feel your body growing closer, pumping faster and eliciting higher pitched moans from you: his favourite sound to hear.

“Hwa… I-I’m so- ahhh!” The sudden pinch of his thumb pushing into your clit cut you off with a loud whimper, eyes rolling back and closing to embrace the pleasure. Your gummy walls clenched desperately around his speedy fingers, almost tight enough to break. He curled them as they reached that spongy spot that would push you over the edge. The lewd wet sounds of his fingers entering you mixed with your lustful whines, thumb flicking over your clit deliciously.

“Cum for me, darling.” He whispered, nibbling at your earlobe before you let yourself go.

Your high crashed over you in waves as his digits pumped harshly into you, pulling out every bit of your orgasm that he could, your essence glistening along his fingers as his movements slowed. But he didn’t want to stop there, pulling out once you started to come down and replacing them on your clit. Pinching it lightly brought your body back to life before he began to rapidly circle the bundle of nerves.

Your body trembled against him at the overstimulation, your brain growing foggy and unable to comprehend sentences, only responding with audible moans and a mantra of Seonghwa’s name. He watched as the overstimulation hit you with another orgasm, clear liquid gushing out of you and shattering onto the mirror; the most beautiful fountain he had ever looked at. Seonghwa watched as your juices dripped down the mirror, an immense amount of desire flourishing within him and before you could process what had just happened, he lifted you up with ease and placed you in his previous spot, before he was on his knees and wedging himself between your thighs. Attempting to close your legs, he only gripped them tight and spread them wider.

“Please darling,” He murmured against your soft skin, peppering kisses on your inner thighs. “You deserve this more than anything.”

His deep brown eyes were clouded with desire and admiration, desperate to please you in all the ways he could. You couldn’t say no, sending him a small nod as he neared closer to your heated core. Softly kissing over your centre, he watched as you shivered at the smallest of touches before finally wrapping his plump lips around your puffy clit. You tried to subconsciously escape him but the hands on your lower back held you in place tightly, restricting your movements and pulling you closer into his face.

His tongue lapped through your sopping folds, coating it in the remains of your previous high. It swirled over your clit, eliciting new gorgeous sounds from you. Running your fingers through his long locks, the moment he sharply sucked on your bundle of nerves, your grasp on him tightened and pulled desperately at his hair. He growled into your heat at the pull, sending vibrations through your entire body. Hungrily sucking on your clit and feeling a euphoria he had never felt, he began to nibble on it lightly with his teeth, pain and pleasure mixing within you. You whimpered loudly, crying out at the unusual sensation.

Pulling away with a soft kiss, his tongue began to explore the inside, your gummies walls clenching and pulling the muscle deeper. He moaned loudly at the suction, enjoying the feeling more than you were — pushing his face closer, his nose rubbed deliciously against your clit, your hips instantly grinding against it.

“I can’t get enough of you, my angel.” Every ounce of your nectar he could guzzle, he did, inhaling and tasting his favourite flavours.

Your stomach began to coil once more, tightening as your high creeped up on you. Seonghwa felt it and started cravingly lapping at your entire core; through your folds, grazing against your spongy walls, devouring your over sensitive clit. Any area he wanted to taste, he reached for it. You grasped his hair securely, thighs squishing around his head as your third orgasm poured over you like a bucket of cool water. That luscious clear liquid spilled out of you once more, dripping down your thighs and drowning over the head that secured itself in between your legs, waiting desperately for the tsunami. Seonghwa guzzled up every ounce like a starved man, the feeling of his chin glistening with your juices inducing a new obsession — he needed you to squirt on him every time from now on.

Your breaths were heavy and unsteady as you can down from your high. You watched through hooded eyes as Seonghwa climbed up your body, lips connecting with delicacy, spit and the taste of you mixing on each other’s tongues as they danced together. One hand held the small of your back whilst the other cupped your face with such gentleness it made your heart melt for him. Disconnecting the kiss for a breath, lips only inches away, you mumbled a small “I love you, Hwa.”

“I love you too, my goddess Y/N.” He smiled before leaning in to place a chaste kiss on your cheek. “But I still have so much more love to show you.”

He directed you up the bed, quickly removing his clothes, you watched as his desperate erection bounced out and hit his lower stomach, precum leaking from the reddened tip — a mouthwatering sight of his attraction to you, the only person who could make him like this. He crawled up the bed and hovered over you, eyes locked in contact before leaning down and connecting your lips once more. Kisses were passionate and desire filled, yet so gentle and soft, the ability to portray so many emotions through the simple connection was exhilarating. Hands tracing all over your body, his hips started bucking lightly against yours, aware of your sensitivity but still so desperate for your touch.

Pulling away and watching your fucked out expression still filled with lust for more, he held your face gently before lining himself up with your entrance. The slow stretch was a bittersweet sensation, ache and pleasure molding into one as he bottomed out with a load growl. He stilled himself above you, leaning down in a way to almost protect your body from the world. With peppered kisses around your face and neck, he began to slowly thrust his hips in and out of you, holding your hips with a grip that could bruise. He pushed your bodies as close as possible, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him deeper, he couldn’t bear being any further apart.

The knot in your stomach was already building once more, his building quicker than expected as well. He didn’t realise how much of an effect pleasuring you had on him, enough for him to burst within minutes of entering you. The both of you practically molded into one, the gravitational pull closing between you with every thrust. You rolled your hips upwards to meet his movements, his lower abdomen grazing your clit so gently each time. His thrusts grew sloppier and more desperate as his high came close. Your bodies stuck together with sweat glistening over them, a thin layer shimmering across Seonghwa’s face and slipping down his neck. Pashing your lips together hastily, your tongues rhythmically danced together as your orgasms washed over you within seconds of each other.

The lewd sounds of your juices squirting out and splashing between your bodies filled the room, a melody of moans escaping your mouths that still hopelessly held onto each other. As your waves continued to wash over his lower abdomen and dripped down your thighs once again, the feeling satisfied him as he groaned deeply into the crook on your neck, hot ropes of white cum spilling into you and filling you up. His hips stuttered into you as the last of his cum seeped into you, holding himself there for a while and cuddling into your body. You both breathed heavily against each other, skin sticking together like glue but neither of you cared, too immersed in the aftershocks of your orgasms.

Sitting there for a few minutes, content with being close and embracing each other as you returned to a more normal breathing state. Seonghwa lifted his head from your neck, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead before pulling out of you. He looked at the previous connection of your bodies, staring at your drenched core and watching as his cums spilled out of you. The sight made him want to devour you once more but he knew you were worn out and needed to be cared for in other ways. He climbed off the bed, quickly being stopped by a tug to his wrist. Turning around, he saw the concerned pout that sat on your face, a fear of being left alone — something he would never do.

“My darling, I promise I will be right back.” He reassured, voice soft spoken and with sincerity.

You nodded lazily and followed his figure as he wandered into the bathroom, the sound of the bath turning on echoing into the room. Waiting for the temperature to warm just enough, he walked out with a soft smile before lifting you up bridal style and carrying you to the bathroom. He placed you down like a delicate flower, climbing into the bubbled bath and holding out a hand for you to follow. Relaxing his back against the cool tiling and sending a small chill down his spine, he guided you down between his legs and secured his arms around your waist, your back pressed against his chest.

Placing soft kisses over the hickies he left on your shoulders, his chin nestled into your neck and rested there. His breath fanned against your cheek, the warmth creating a comfort to you as you relaxed into his arms. The two of you remained embracing one another in the intimacy of the lightly bubbled bath, sharing small words of praise and adoration held towards each other. The love you held for each other was a silent agreement, a promise to never be broken, something you could always trust to be there no matter what happened.

This was all you needed, he was all you needed.

author’s note lowkey forgot about this story for a bit so i'm sorry for the delay (i started writing it in december)... but i hope that you didn't forget about it and it was worth the wait (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ also the intro is definitely inspired by my experiences of body issues and family issues, please don't be offended ♡

p.s completely unimportant to the story but i saw harry styles live TWO YEARS AGO... how has it been two years since i saw my pookie wtf i miss him ──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !!

୨୧ taglist + moots @betda @solaris-amethyst @hwachronicles @autieofthevalley @hwalighters @tyudeongii @e3ellie @atzlordz ♡ @dunno-wut-to-do @foulbreadpirate @hwahan @suluhwa @hwas-star @daniela-f-uwu @flwrshobi @midnightrebel1028 @kmpokjoong @arourababy @lemonkait00 @woohwababes @emmergency

(i went through my followers and tagged whoever had hwa as their profile name/pic and just said "yeah they're hwa biased")

#written by planet hwa ༉‧₊˚✧#ateez #park seonghwa #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa angst #seonghwa smut

213 notes · View notes