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junovrsmp4 · 9 months ago

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three is not a crowd

5 times Chris walks in on you and Matt fucking + 1 time he gets to join in on the fun

pairing: established!matt x reader, chris x reader, matt x reader x chris

summary: what it says on the tin basically

warnings: THREESOME, PURE FILTH, dick riding, oral (female & male receiving), teasing, edging, over-stimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, p in v, slight degradation/praising, slight angst, happy ending yay

word count: 6.9K

author’s note: im a whore for both of them. that is all. (also this has plot, and is mostly beta read but i havent slept in hrs so if some mistakes did slip thru my bad

“Hey Matt, have you seen my-” Chris begins to ask as he pushes Matt’s bedroom door open, expecting his brother to either be lazing around in bed or be at his desk, gaming.

What he doesn't expect is the sight he is instead greeted by, of you, Matt’s girlfriend of the last year and a half, astride Matt’s lap, riding his dick while he leans against his headboard, head thrown back and hands grabbing your hips, guiding you, slowly.

Chris is shocked, understandably, and he should just turn around and book it. Instead, he stands frozen, watching the way your head is nestled into the crook of Matt’s neck, your shoulders shaking. If Chris ignores the sound of his own pounding heart, he can almost hear the soft whimpers you’re letting out at each downward thrust of your hips.

At the sound of a soft, deep groan, Chris’ attention shifts to Matt, who has his eyes shut, and his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. There’s something surreal about this scene, seeing Matt, who looks nothing like Chris, but also looks the most like him, fucking this beautiful girl who’s been on his mind for months now.

“Matt…,” he hears you whine loudly against his brother’s neck, and Chris has to grit his teeth, fight against the urge to shove his hands into his pants and fist his growing erection. This shouldn't turn him on so much, hell, he shouldn't even be here right now. He should have run in the opposite direction as soon as he realized what he’d walked in on, but he’s mesmerized by the way you move, your back arching as your hips move back and forth. The slow, sensual, almost hypnotic, movements of your body as you ride Matt’s dick has him clenching his fists, nails digging into his palms and it’s easy to imagine him in Matt’s place as he gets this view of what it might look like to fuck you. Your moans grow louder, and Chris thinks it might be because you’re getting close, and god, he feels so hot underneath his skin.

“Shh baby, didn't you say we needed to be quiet?” Matt whispers against the side of your head. “Can’t have Chris hearing us, can we?”

At the sound of his name, Chris’ heart hammers faster, and he looks up at Matt’s face, only to see that his brother’s gaze was already on him, watching him with a slight smirk before thrusting his hips up, presumably driving his cock deeper into you, making you moan even louder than you already were.

Breaking out of his stupor, Chris stumbles backwards before hightailing it to his room, slamming the door behind him. It takes all of five seconds for him to get his cock out of his sweatpants, furiously jerking off as he leans against his door, biting into the hem of his t-shirt that he’d pulled up over his chest, and only another five seconds before he shoots his cum all over himself.

Chris knows its wrong, wanting his brother's girl. This was never a problem before, because any time he found out Matt liked someone, Chris immediately lost interest. It was the brothers’ code; they never fought over girls, and besides, they always just liked different ones.

You, though…it was hard not to like you, even after he found out Matt had his eyes on you.

Chris remembers the first time he met you, how nice you’d been to him and his brothers, how easily you’d fit into their lives. He’s not going to lie and say he’d wanted you right from the start. It was a gradual thing, slowly creeping up on him before he realized what had gotten him.

You just made him feel so comfortable, and surprisingly, the two of you had a lot in common. But then again, you had a lot in common with Matt, and Nick. And yet, you were so different. You were smart, playful, and so, so kind. You were just the right amount of goofy and serious, and you just, fit well into the dynamic Chris and his brothers shared.

It shouldn't have surprised him when Matt eventually told him and Nick that he was into you and planned to ask you out. It all happened so quickly after that. You and Matt had gotten together and, now you weren't just the new friend that Chris and his brothers were always hanging out with, but his brother's (his brother who was also his best friend, really) girlfriend.

Which is why Chris knows it’s fucked up. Wanting you. And he knows it’s even more fucked up that he wishes he could have a repeat of what happened a few weeks ago when he accidentally walked in on you and Matt. The amount of times he’s jacked off to that memory alone the past few nights is insane, his mind supplying images to create his own version of events where he doesn't run away.

Especially fucked up is the fact that Matt had seen him, had looked cocky that he’d caught Chris watching them, and even that fact hadn’t deterred Chris from chasing orgasm after orgasm to the thought of fucking you, imagining how tight and wet your pussy might be, what it might taste like.

Speaking of the fucker who seemed totally unfazed by recent events, Matt sat across Chris, scrolling through his phone, while Nick sat beside him, editing their latest video. Chris was trying his hardest not to flip the fuck out, but his whole nervous system seemed like it was fried. Nick had already yelled at him twice to stop moving so much because he was apparently jostling the table too much, and Matt had just let out a bemused chuckle without lifting his eyes from his phone the entire time.

Just as Chris was about to get up and retreat to him room, the doorbell rings, before Matt gets a series of texts.

“Oh, she’s here-” Matt says, before shooting out of his chair and rushing to great you at the front door.

“Hey, hey, hey!” your cheery voice rings through the hallway, as you and Matt make your way into the kitchen, and Chris almost chokes on the sip of Pepsi he’d just taken because holy fuck-

You were wearing a short, tight black dress that hugged the lines and curves of your body just right, the square neckline barely covering your chest. His eyes slipped further down to the way the fabric of the dress cinched at your waist, and to the slit at the side of the dress that came up to mid-thigh. That and the combination of tall strappy heels you had on made your legs look…really good. So good that Chris wishes he was between those legs, licking a path up your calf to your inner thighs, leaving bruising kisses to mar the smooth, unblemished skin of your legs, before finally, finally-

Nick hoots just then, exclaiming about how hot your fit looks, pulling Chris out of his daze. He watches as you bask in the compliments being showered onto you by both Nick and Matt now, and can't help but smile at the way you try to hide your blushing face.

So, it’s completely out of left field when he sees you again later that night, sitting on the couch with your hands covering your face but this time it’s to hide the loud moans that threaten to slip from your mouth as you watch Matt kneel in front of you, his mouth pressing kisses into your inner thighs…just like Chris had imagined doing earlier.

It’s ridiculous really, how Chris had been feeling slightly normal after dinner with you and his brothers, because as awkward as he may have been feeling about you and Matt, being around you and his brothers, having good food and just laughing about random shit made him feel really fucking good. Like everything was normal and he wasn't fantasizing about fucking his brother’s girlfriend. Like he hadn't accidentally walked in on them fucking.

Of course it’s just his fucking luck that as soon he’s feeling just that slightest bit of normalcy, he’d decided to go to the kitchen and grab a Pepsi from the fridge at 3 AM, only to find his brother about to eat you out on the couch.

“Matt-” you whine, as your back arches off the couch, one of your hands moving to grab Matt’s hair, the other trying and failing to hold back your moans. “Matt, please- nnggh- stop teasing.”

Chris feels all his blood rush down south and it leaves him lightheaded. The low lighting in the room accentuates the shadows of your body and he can see the muscles in your legs flex as your thighs clench around Matt’s head, trying to get him to move his mouth closer to where you want him. You’re not in the tight black dress he’d seen you in earlier, but in a blue baby tee and black lace-trimmed hipster briefs. There’s an almost imperceptible quiver that wracks through your entire body in anticipation for what’s to come.

Matt doesn't keep you waiting for long. Chris' breathing grows even more jagged as he watches Matt’s fingers push your panties to the side before he runs his tongue flat up your pussy. Chris can't see as much as he’d like to, but his overactive imagination does the job for him, imagining how wet you must be.

Chris feels like such a sick perv for still standing there, watching with wide eyes as Matt (his literal brother) enthusiastically licks and kisses your pussy, and he almost wonders how neither of you haven't noticed him yet. Then again, you and Matt seem so lost in each other, and now there’s another ugly thought circling Chris’ brain, one that makes his chest hurt a little.

He forgoes his Pepsi for the night and quietly returns back to his room, cock half-hard, and his heart just the slightest bit heavy.

“Alright, what’s going on with you?” Nick asks him, while his eyes are still fixed on his phone.

He and Chris were sitting on the couch (Chris had been avoiding the section that you and Matt had used during your late night rendezvous), and Chris was idly flipping through his Netflix watch list.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Chris says with a heavy sigh, slumping further into the couch.

It’s quiet, and the silence makes Chris look up at Nick, who was already looking at him with a curious frown.

“Seriously, what the fuck is up with you?” Nick asks, and he actually looks concerned, which throws Chris off a bit. “You’re usually bouncing off the walls and annoying the shit out of everyone in your nearest vicinity, but lately you've just been, I don't know- I’m like actually worried, did something happen? Is everything okay?”

Chris swallows around the lump that had formed in his throat and takes a minute. To do what, he doesn't know. It’s not like he’s going to prepare himself to tell Nick what he’d witnessed, twice, and how he was feeling about it. Really, how does one go about telling their triplet brother that they’d accidentally witnessed their other brother in an intimate situation with said brother’s partner, not once, but twice, and had enjoyed it, to the point of having nightly fantasies about it?

There were more complicated feelings lurking just under the surface, more than just Chris wanting to fuck you, but he did not have the mental bandwidth to unpack all that, so that was that. It’s not like he had honest to god feelings-

“See, at this point, you would’ve been yapping away-” Nick says, interrupting his train of thought, “-but instead, you’re just sitting there, looking all sad and miserable.”

“Okay, I don't look sad and miserable,” Chris says with a roll of his eyes. At least, he hopes he doesn't. “I’m just tired dude. Haven't been sleeping well lately.”

“Right.”

“What? It’s the truth.”

“Didn't say you were lying,” Nick says, matter-of-factually, in that signature Nick tone that lets everyone know when he isn't buying their bullshit.

“I’m fine,” Chris says slowly, waiting for Nick to stop looking at him so intensely.

“Sure,” Nick drawls out. “You’re also a shitty liar.”

“Fuck you,” Chris grumbles, chucking the TV remote at Nick, who flails to try and dodge it, letting out an indignant squawk when it bounces off his shoulder and falls to the ground.

This, of course, results in Nick throwing whatever was closest to him at Chris, which happens to be an empty water bottle, and eventually they're just chucking it back and forth, cursing at each other in between laughter.

It’s the most relaxed Chris has felt in weeks.

Too bad you had to walk in at that exact moment.

“Hey guys!” you say cheerily, plopping down on the couch, next to Chris. You’d stayed over for a couple of nights now, as you usually do, and Chris should be extremely used to your presence, except he feels his skin prickle as soon as your close to him, close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating off of your skin.

“God, how are you so chipper every morning?” Nick asks, shaking his head with a poorly hidden smile.

You twirl a strand of your hair around your finger, and bit the corner of your bottom lip. “It helps that I wake up to one of the hottest guys ever, and then get to hang out with his hot as fuck brothers,” you say with a smirk, waggling your eyebrows at Nick.

Chris wishes you hadn't just said that because now his mind wanders (more like sprints) to the memory of this morning, when he’d walked past Matt’s open bedroom. He’d heard the telltale sounds of skin slapping against skin, and your voice, whining Matt’s name over and over, which had him stopping right before Matt’s door, eyes wide, mouth agape. This couldn't be happening right? There was no way he’d walked into this situation for a third time.

Chris debates on whether he should just turn back around, go downstairs, out the front door, and bash his head against a tree, or if he should soldier on and just walk past to get to his room.

The sounds were getting to him. His cock strained against his grey sweatpants, creating a very obvious tent. His clothes suddenly felt a size too small, the air around him too thick, and he felt sweat break out on his forehead. He should leave, run far, far away from his house probably, but a sick part of him wants more than anything to see what’s got you moaning this time.

He rounds the corner and is met with a sight that almost has him falling to his knees.

It’s unfair, how incredibly gorgeous you look straddling Matt’s thighs, bouncing on his dick rhythmically, your head thrown back. You’re leaning back on your hands, supported on Matt’s knees, and Chris watches the way your body undulates as you swivel your hips, ribs flaring as your chest heaves. Every gasp you let out is a punch to Chris�� gut, leaving him feeling winded.

You’re so lost in the throes of pleasure that you don't hear when Chris groans out loud, but he knows exactly when Matt hears him, because his head rolls lazily towards him, his hands that had been grabbing your hips tightening, and there’s little to no warning before Matt’s flipping you over and thrusting into you with vigor.

“Does that feel good baby?” Chris hears Matt ask, his voice rough and low. “Tell me how good my dick makes you feel.”

“Fuck, so good, Matt- please, please, please-” your moans turning into whimpers as Matt’s thrust pick up in pace. Chris can tell exactly when Matt hits the bundle of nerves inside you that has you seeing stars because your back arches off his bed, hands scrambling to find purchase. Your fingers clench into the pillow above your head, as you beg Matt to go harder, faster.

Chris’ eyes bounce back to Matt, who’s watching you in awe, and he’s seen that look on his face numerous times before, like Matt can't get enough of you. Chris’ breath hitches, because he wishes it was him, in Matt’s place. Him, worshiping you, making you feel good. He wishes he was the one that was ripping those sounds out of you.

He catches Matt’s eyes just then, and Chris has never wanted to punch him in the face more than he does in that moment, because it almost feels like he’s mocking Chris.

See what I have, what you so desperately want…

Chris holds up a middle finger, directed at Matt and whatever god was up there who’d clearly forsaken him. He had half the mind to just yell but the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass you. So with a scathing look at Matt, and a mouthed fuck you, he walks to his room, the sound of Matt’s laughter the last thing he hears before Chris angrily slams the door and sheds his clothes, pumping his cock to the memory of your voice.

It’s the hardest he’s cum all week.

Chris walks in on Matt pounding you against the wall leading to the garage. At this point, it had to be on purpose. The two of you had to be planning this, because how was it always Chris that ended up walking in on them, and not Nick? Knowing his brother, Nick would’ve gone around voicing his disgust at having caught you and Matt fucking, any chance he got.

So, it had to be on purpose.

Matt’s whispering dirty things in your ear, loud enough for Chris to hear every word.

“You’re so fucking pretty baby-”

“I want to ruin you, want you to feel me for days-”

“You’re such a dirty little slut, aren’t you?” and that has you letting out a particularly loud whine. The next bit Matt whispers into your ear is too inaudible for Chris to comprehend but he can tell how much it affects you, because you absolutely lose it just then.

Fuck this. Fuck all of this.

“Can y’all stick to fucking in Matt’s bed?”

At the sound of Chris’ voice, you look up at him, startled, and it’s electrifying, your stare. Chris sees your eyebrows furrow, your lips, plump from being bitten (by yourself, or Matt, who cares at this point), fall open. Matt’s shoulders stiffen for a second, so Chris knows he’s aware that Chris is right behind them, but the asshole just keeps fucking going. And you, you’re still staring.

“Chris-” you gasp, your nails digging into Matt’s shoulder. Chris thinks you’re going to push him away, scramble to pull yourself together.

You surprise him by pushing back down onto Matt’s cock with even more fervor, your hands moving up Matt’s neck to grab onto his hair, pulling hard.

Chris watches you cum on Matt’s cock for the first time that night, all while your eyes were locked on his.

Chris doesn't like being angry. He very rarely is. And usually, he gets over it really quick.

Which is why it’s shocking to everyone when he gets cold and hostile towards Matt seemingly out of nowhere, and the anger doesn't subside.

It gets in the way of their work. Filming becomes exhausting, and it leaves all three brothers feeling frustrated and annoyed at each other.

It’s in the middle of filming a new car video when it all goes to head. Nick and Matt had attempted to film a video, but Chris couldn’t hold back the jabs at Matt, interrupting him every time he spoke, insulting him for no reason whatsoever, which only made Matt retaliate just as hard.

“That’s it-” Nick yells, his hands pushing his hair out of his face in frustration. “I’ve fucking had it with you two. I’m getting the fuck out of this car and the two of you are going to stay in here and talk. Don’t even bother coming back in until you sort out whatever-” he gestures wildly between Matt and Chris, “-is going on with you two!”

And with that, Nick storms back into their house.

Chris stares out of the window with his arms crossed, seething. He can tell Matt is looking at him, can see part of his reflection on the window, but Chris isn’t going to give him the satisfaction of breaking first.

Matt, much to Chris’ annoyance, was completely calm and collected.

“Chris-” Matt begins to say, but Chris just chucks his empty Pepsi can at him without looking. He hears it clatter against something (the steering wheel, he thinks), before dropping down onto the car floor with a dull thud.

Matt sighs, and Chris wants to yell, because Chris is the one that should be huffing and sighing, he’s the one that’s tired of all this bullshit.

“Are you trying to prove something?” Chris asks, because he never could stay quiet for too long. “Is that it? What the actual fuck Matt?”

Chris had fully turned to face Matt, who at least had the decency to look somewhat abashed now. His face was tinged pinked, and he was fiddling with his rings.

Chris continues. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but if you’re just trying to get me to see she’s your girl, I fucking get it, okay? You’ve made that really fucking clear. Did I say or do something to warrant this shit, because if you think I’m out to get her, I’m not, okay? Jesus- do you know how fucking insane-”

“She wants you bro.”

Chris blinks. He opens his mouth, and then shuts it.

“I used to catch her staring at you sometimes, and there were times she’d just keep scrolling through pictures of the two of us together- you and me, I mean- and…I don’t know, she’d have this look on her face.” Matt trails off. He looks at Chris, trying to gauge his reaction so far, but truth be told, Chris was still trying to process what Matt had initially said.

“What…?”

“Look, the two of us are happy together. I love her, she loves me, but I think she…” Matt coughs out, and it’s the first time since this whole thing has started that Chris has seen Matt this awkward. “She’s into you too. She never really told me, but it got pretty obvious after a while. And eventually, I- I started bringing you up, when we- um, yeah. She wants us both.”

Chris starts laughing. Because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Alright, good prank dude- I’m still so fucking mad at you but-”

“I’m not kidding, Chris.”

Right. Because why would Matt joke about something like this?

“Um…”

“Yeah…”

And that’s how Chris finds himself back in Matt’s room. You and Matt were sitting on his bed, albeit a little far apart, meanwhile Chris had taken a seat in Matt’s gaming chair. Chris almost wants to call the two of you out on the pure torture you’d put him through the past few weeks, but one look at your face has him abandoning that train of thought.

You look so…remorseful. You’re slightly curled in on yourself, like you’re bracing for some sort of attack, and Chris’ heart melts. The last thing he wants is for you to feel upset, so he tries to lighten the mood.

“So, do you just wanna see which one of us has the better dick or-?”

He smiles as you sputter, eyes wide as you finally look up at him.

“There we go,” Chris whispers. “You’re finally looking at me.”

“Chris…I’m so sorry,” you whisper, lips trembling. “God, this is so stupid, why did we decide to tell him-”

“Hey, hey-” Chris chides. “I think I’ve been kept in the dark long enough, actually. I just wish y’all hadn’t used such a weird ass fucking way to tell me.”

“Well, to be fair, she didn’t even know you’d seen us that first couple of times,”

“Oh, god-”

“-And, we kinda assumed you’d take the fucking hint or something.”

“Yeah, I thought the hint was ‘I know you wanna fuck my girl, so I’m gonna make sure you catch us fucking every chance we get so you stay the fuck away’,” Chris says with a raised brow, staring deadpan at Matt.

“Wait, what-” you start, but you’re interrupted by Matt.

“Yeah, he’s wanted to fuck you for a while too.”

And that's how Chris finds himself with a front row view of Matt fucking you, up close and personal. Matt has you on all fours, facing Chris, while he pounds into you from behind, hard and deep. Each thrust punches a high-pitched moan out of you, and Chris watches, enraptured by the way you take it.

Chris watches to his heart's content that night, no longer worried about getting caught, no longer stressed about wanting to fuck you.

Chris watches you fall apart in Matt's hands over and over, and all he can think about is when he can finally have his turn.

+ 1

They’d had to wait for the perfect moment, a night they could be sure none of them would be interrupted.

They'd been planning for this night for a few days now, and it was finally here.

Chris and Matt stand side-by-side in front of Matt’s bed, arms crossed over their chest as they watch you squirm in his bed, their combined attention making you nervous. They’re both barely dressed, Chris in a black tank top and grey sweatpants, the front of which were already tented from his hard dick, while Matt was just in his black boxers. The low lighting of the room made Matt’s rings glisten as he rubbed at the stubble that he’d slowly allowed to grow on his face.

“How are we feeling, baby?” Matt asks you, smirking at the way you visibly gulp. “You ready for us?”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, looking up at Chris through your lashes before nodding.

That’s all the cue he needs.

Chris stalks over to you, slowly, climbing over the bed and crawling over you, his hands landing on either side of your head as he holds himself above you. You lay back, your hair fanning around your head on the pillow, your eyes wide as you wait for Chris’ next move.

“Can I kiss you?” Chris asks, wetting his lips, and he doesn’t have to wait long for his answer. Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling at the strands close to his nape, bringing his lips onto yours. The kiss is heady, a wild mess of tongue and teeth, because you’d both been waiting for this, dying for it, and here it was, finally happening.

“Chris-” you gasp, open mouth sliding over the hot skin of his cheek as he lowers his head to the crook of your neck, biting harsh kisses into the skin there, before tracing his tongue across your jaw.

“Fuck, fuck- you smell so good, I need you so bad ma-” Chris blabbers, his brain-to-mouth filter long gone. He vaguely registers Matt settling onto the bed, leaning against the headboard, as Chris kisses a path down your body, laving every inch of skin he can access with nips and kisses. You arch your back as Chris circles one of your nipples with his tongue, sucking on it as he flicks the other. He alternates between kissing and nipping your nipples, all the while, you have an almost painful grip on his hair, pushing your chest harder into his face.

Matt watches your face intently, seeing the way your features scrunch up in pleasure, mouth wide open as you gasp and whine. There’s a small part of him that knows he shouldn’t be so okay with his own brother having his way with his girlfriend, but it’s almost like he gets a 4K view of what it might usually look like when Matt’s the one doing these things to you.

Chris continues his path downwards, fingers hooking into the sides of your panties and slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulling them off of you. Your legs instinctively squeeze shut when the cold air hits your wet core, but Chris’s hands gently pry them open, staring at you in wonder.

“You’re so fucking wet, fuck-” Chris groans, before licking a stripe up the seam where your thigh meets your crotch, so close to where you actually want his tongue.

“Please, please-” you whimper, pushing your hips up closer to his lips, feeling his hot breath fan over you pussy. You hear both him and Matt chuckle, before Chris has his mouth on you, licking the wetness gathered in your folds. All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and the obscene sounds of Chris’s mouth as he eats you out like a man starving.

It’s almost too much, the way he’s sucking on your clit, before pushing his tongue into you, his face pushed deep, you’re sure he can’t breath. The pleasure builds, heat pooling low in your stomach. You feel Matt’s fingers brush against your forehead, pushing the hair that was starting to stick to it from all the sweat.

“You feel good baby?” Matt asks, tone soft, but his eyes glint dangerously. “One of us wasn’t enough for you, was it? You’re such a dirty girl, wanting me and my brother.”

You whine, head pushing against his thigh closest to your head. Chris laughs, pulling his head back to chime in.

“Greedy little slut, that’s what she is,” he says, cheeks rosy and face glistening from the nose down, his chin absolutely soaking wet. “You gonna cum soon ma?”

You don’t even know what you respond with, just that Chris goes back to eating you out, this time, bringing his fingers to your entrance, sliding one finger, then two, into your sopping wet cunt as he licks random paths across your folds, occasionally circling your clit and sucking on it harshly, all while thrusting his fingers in and out of you, causing you to buck your hips up wildly. Your orgasm, only the first one of the night, is fast approaching, and your thighs clench around Chris’ head. The only warning he gets is a sudden yell of his name before you gush all over his face.

“Did you just- did she just squirt?” Chris asks, eyes wide as he takes in the mess that you’d made. His face and neck were now fully wet, and there was a perfectly round wet spot right underneath you. His fingers flutter over your now slightly puffy pussy, watching your folds quiver.

“Fuck, it’s too much- Chris, wait,” you whine, hands moving to grab Chris’ wrist. He doesn’t stop with his ministrations though, fingers pumping in and out of you, prodding at the bundle of nerves inside you that caused your vision to white out. It was fast, intense, and Chris manages to pull a second orgasm out of you before you’d even managed to catch your breath from the first one.

Chris sits up on his knees, reaching his arms behind him and pulling his tank top off, throwing it behind him. He hooks his arms around your thighs before pulling you down the bed, closer to him, allowing Matt to slot himself behind you.

“Can you turn over for me ma?” Chris asks with a gentle pat against your hip. It takes some effort, your limbs feel loose and languid, but you manage to flip onto your stomach. Hands grab your face, tipping your head up, and you see your boyfriend looking at you with a smirk, tongue peeking out to run across his teeth.

“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” he asks, voice like dripping honey with a hint of something razor-sharp. “This everything you imagined?”

“Yes- oh god, Matt- I need you, please-”

“You have me baby,” he coos. “You have me and Chris. That’s what you wanted, right? ‘Cause one dick was never enough to keep you satisfied.”

“Ngghh- please, please, I-” you whimper, mouthing at Matt’s dick through his boxers, startled when you feel a sudden smack against your ass, pain blossoming across your skin.

“If she’s already this cock dumb, I wonder how she’s gonna get when we actually get our dicks in her,” Chris wonders out loud with an amused huff, palming at your ass cheeks as he rubs his clothed dick against it.

You continue begging, your pussy soaking wet and clenching around nothing in anticipation for what’s to come, hips arching off the bed while your back dips low, shoulders tucked between Matt’s spread thighs as you lick him through the only piece of fabric that is keeping you from tasting him, from having his cock fill your mouth.

Chris smooths his palm down your back, making you arch your back even further, before he spreads your cheeks, seeing the way you twitch at being put on display.

“I think she’s waited long enough, hasn’t she?” Matt asks Chris, nodding his head slightly as if to tell Chris to get on with it. Chris doesn’t waste any time pushing his sweats down his thighs, freeing his cock. You turn your head back to try and peek at it from over your shoulder, but Matt has a firm hand on your head pushing you towards his crotch while he pulls his dick out of his boxers. With one hand holding the back of your head, and the other around his dick, Matt slaps it against your cheek, amused at the way you so desperately try and get him to guide his cock into your mouth instead.

Simultaneously, Chris is behind you, rubbing the tip of his dick through your folds, gathering the wetness there. Above you, you feel Matt lean towards his dresser, before rifling through the top drawer and chucking something at Chris. There’s a sound of a bottle cap clicking open, and lube being squeezed out, before you hear the squelch of it as Chris spreads it over his dick.

Later, you’ll think they must have planned this head of time, but both Matt and Chris decide to push their dicks into you at the same time, Matt feeding you his cock, pushing past your lips, applying gentle pressure to the back of your head, while Chris spreads your folds apart and drives his dick into you, the tip catching inside you for a moment, before he thrusts his hips and pushes his dick deeper into you.

“Look at that,” Chris says, smacking the palms of both his hands onto your cheeks at the same time, before kneading at them. “She takes dick really fucking well.”

“It’s like she’s made for it, isn’t she?”

Chris fucks you like he has all the time in the world, savoring the feeling of your pussy clenching around him, fascinated by the sight of his dick disappearing in you at every thrust. You stretch around him so beautifully, and you’re so fucking tight, he wonders how he managed to fit it all in you in one go.

At the other end, Matt watches you with soft affection as you suck on his cock, tears streaming down your face from the exertion on your body and minimal air supply. At every thrust of Chris’ hips, you would get pushed closer to Matt, which would push his dick deeper into your mouth, making you almost gag on it.

You have no concept of time anymore, or where your body starts and Chris’ and Matt’s end. You feel like one big mess of limbs, moving fluidly, with the common purpose of chasing your orgasm. You hear Matt’s groans getting louder above you, and you know he’s getting close. You’re not far behind yourself, but Chris still seems like he’s nowhere close to being done.

Pulling your mouth off of Matt’s cock, you circle your hand around the base of it, before stroking your hand up and down, twisting it around the head. You swipe your thumb across the slit at the top while you tongue at the underside of the head, all while looking up at Matt through hooded eyes.

“Cum on my face, Matt, please-” you beg, mouth slightly open, a line of spit connecting your tongue to his dick. Chris' thrusts are picking up, but you keep your elbows planted firmly on the bed below to keep yourself steady for Matt. There’s a tingle building low in your spine, but you focus on Matt, the way he looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. His hair is a mess, and his body is flushed. The hand he has on your head grips your hair tight, and the other joins your hand in pumping his dick. It only takes a few more seconds of that before Matt lets out a loud groan of your name, spurts of thick, hot cum landing across your face, and you close your eyes as it drips down your face, some of it landing on your tongue.

Matt leans back heavily against the headboard, and before you can register anything, you’re being flipped onto your back, face still covered in Matt’s cum. Your shoulders hit Matt’s chest as Chris crowds against you on the bed, his hands now on the back of your knees, pushing your legs back against your chest, before thrusting his dick back into you.

The sudden shift has you blinking back stars, and this new angle has Chris’ dick brushing against your sweet spot on every thrust, and all you can do is sob at the immense pleasure you feel. Matt circles his arms around you, one hand playing with one of your nipples, while the other moves down your stomach and edges closer to your clit. The tingling sensation grows, and grows, your hands scrambling to find purchase on Chris’ shoulders as he thrusts particularly deep into you before you finally snap, screaming as your third orgasm is ripped from you, the force of it pushing Chris’ cock out of you as you squirt all over him, yourself, and the bed, legs shaking uncontrollably.

You’re fully gasping and sobbing now, the intensity of your orgasm wracking through your whole body. You watch through hooded, teary eyes, as Chris leans over you, furiously stroking his cock as he soaks in the view of you, hot and messy, ruined because of him, before he too eventually reaches his orgasm, cum pulsing out of him and landing high on your chest, across your nipples, one spurt even hitting your chin.

The three of you are a heaping mess of limbs after, all basking in the afterglow of a night well spent, tired, but satiated. Matt and Chris lay on either side of you, stroking whatever part of your skin they can reach, occasionally batting each other’s hands away and pulling you closer to either side, like you’re not all squished together already.

“We should do that again sometime,” you say after a long beat of silence. Matt snorts, eyes closed, but the corners of his lips are quirked up in a small smile.

“Y’all are crazy if you think I’m never fucking you again after I just got a taste,” Chris states. “Besides, I think there’s a lot of lost time I need to make up for, hm?”

After that night, Chris gets to have his turn with you, over and over. Sometimes, Matt is present, and the brothers somehow always turn things into a competition of who can make you cum the quickest, who can make you cum multiple times, who can make you absolutely incoherent by the end of the night.

Now Chris had his own reason for always being so chipper in the morning. It helps that he finally gets to fuck the hottest girl he’s seen, who just happens to also be fucking his brother.

author’s note: i put too much fucking effort into an idea that essentially started as a joke, its gonna be so funny if this flops because i literally stayed up till 4 am twice in a row to write this lmao- anyways, let me know what you think! my inbox is open and waiting for your thoughts (: likes, comments and reblogs r much appreciated <3

taglist 🩵 (comment on my pinned post to be added or removed):

@luverboychris @bigbeefybitch @liz-stxrn @slut4chriss @sturniolosgirl @coochiedestroyer1 @kvtie444 @vschrissturn @hercigaretteblush @fwskullz @m4rriii @anabanana28 @sturniolosange1 @webbersturn @odeezier @johnniesrealwife @freshsturns @marlenafortuna @carolineheartsmatthew @incndescentglow @starniolosposts @urfavgirllyyyyy @mattsturniolosworld @lilyloveschris @sturniozo @lookingformyromeo @heartss4matthewq @lanasturniolo @ezziewinchester @s-s-842 @sturnlova @55sturn @chrisopeningabag

#junovrs writes #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader

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rafey-baby · 2 months ago

Text

what would sensitive!reader do without older!rafe protecting her from the invisible monsters in their home?

18+ mdni!

c/w: mostly fluff, her being scared & rafe comforting her while also being a menace, teeny tiny bit of angst regarding their age-gap, use of daddy (once)

wc: 1.7k

unfortunately won't be watching a single scary movie this halloween cause she's literally me but happy kinktober & spooky season xx

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

She’s not exactly sure why she agreed to watch the new horror film Rafe’s friends wanted to see at a Halloween themed gathering he’d dragged her into. She wasn’t even the biggest fan of his friends, which is why she didn’t want to go in the first place.

However, when he’d mumbled a honeyed ‘it’s no fun without you ‘n don’t wanna leave my girl alone on Halloween’ into her hair, she’d reluctantly agreed; not one to refuse him of anything when he looked at her with that specific softened blue coloring his eyes.

And there was also the prospect of making him happy that finally made her melt into his wishes.

And she wanted to like his friends, she really did. But it wasn’t exactly easy when they kept bragging about their accomplishments and how much money they had every opportunity they found in such an arrogant tone, it made her roll her eyes when they weren’t looking.

Luckily, she could at least converse with their partners who were always fun company to sip wine with and giggle about anything and everything. And along with the warmth of Rafe’s gaze flickering over to her every once in a while, as he talked with his friends and coworkers, she was actually beginning to enjoy herself.

Up until the point when someone suggested they watch a movie.

“You sure you wanna watch this? S’okay if you wanna go home, could come up with somethin’ else to keep us entertained…” Rafe had murmured into her ear with his arms around her on the couch the whole group had settled down on.

He knew how paranoid she could get; how easily she’d turn into a scaredy cat who once couldn’t sleep alone for a month after sitting through an entire scary movie in the cinema.

And she truly doesn’t know why she didn’t just tell him she wanted to leave when the film started playing on the big screen of Topper’s television. She was going to, but when her eyes flitted over to him bringing a glass of whiskey to his lips in a carefree manner; she didn’t have the heart to ruin his fun because he seemed to be enjoying himself. After all, it wasn’t often he let himself relax due to his hectic work schedule packed with tedious meetings and whatnot.

And on top of that, she’s already self-conscious over the age-gap between her and Rafe; sometimes gets a headache over the notion of him meeting someone more mature one dreadful day and deciding he doesn’t want to play house with her any longer.

After all, his friends were all getting engaged left and right, while she still holds the title of being his girlfriend. And even if she isn’t sure she’d be ready for marriage quite yet, she’s still slightly upset that he’s never even so much as mentioned the matter.

And she's not sure if it's because she's younger than him and he assumes she doesn't want a ring on her finger too soon or if he simply just doesn't want to make things too definitive with her.

Nonetheless, it's something she's been thoroughly overthinking and mulling over recently, even if she knows it doesn't benefit her in any shape or form. Apparently, her mind just likes to always have some topic to ruminate over and obsessively worry about, or else it'll have too much free time.

Therefore, she can admit that she didn’t want to appear as a big baby who couldn’t stomach anything even remotely scary (she really couldn’t). And was it such a crime to not want to make a scene in front of all his friends?

That’s why she ends up meekly nodding her head and assuring him she was fine — which he didn’t entirely believe — but smiled nonetheless at the fact that she was willing to get out of her comfort zone for his sake, before pulling her closer to his side.

However, when the white letters of the end credits finally rolled after a few gruesome and eerie hours later, she was anything but fine.

Her weakened frame is trembling and she’s entirely too jumpy even after they’ve said their goodbyes and stepped past the threshold into the safe haven of their home.

“Told you we should’ve just left,” he tuts when she flinches when the October wind rustles the leafy foliage outside the window.

“Rafe, what was that?” she squeaks out when she hears another sound coming from outside — presumably their neighbor — however, there’s always the possibility of it being a serial killer simply waiting for the right moment to pounce.

“What was what?” he huffs out a chuckle in amusement, causing her to pout.

“This isn’t funny. I’m scared,” she whines, heart beating faster than ever along with her breathing unsteady.

“I know you are. Shit, forgot why I don’t let you watch scary movies,” he shakes his head, padding over to the kitchen to fill up a glass of water; her feet immediately running after him.

“Hey, hey, m’right here, yeah?” he laughs tenderly when she practically glues herself to his big and comforting arm with how tightly she’s hugging it against her chest.

“Promise you’re not gonna leave me alone?” she blinks up at him with her pupils dilated, nervous.

“It’s past midnight. Of course, m’not leaving, m’exhausted. Let’s get ready for bed, yeah?” he suggests calmly, managing to placate her some with his appeasing presence. Although the spine-chilling scenes still play behind her eyelids with every blink.

She follows him to the bathroom and he tries not to laugh when she insists on staying there even while he’s peeing.

“Want me to check under the bed for monsters?” his sickly-sweet tone is a stark contrast to the annoying smirk plastered on his face when they pad over to their bedroom after brushing their teeth.

“Ray…I’m being serious,” she scowls.

“So am I?” he feigns confusion with a furrow of his brows.

Before she has the chance to complain about him being mean, he’s already crouching down on the floor and poking his head under the bed into the darkness he’s braved himself to submerge into. And she’s far too curious not to peer down as well, however, she can’t really see a thing from behind his broad shoulders.

Suddenly, he lets out a loud gasp — making her jump back and nearly trip on her feet — before his breathy giggle follows soon after.

“That’s not funny,” she grumbles as exasperation drags her lips downwards.

“I’m sorry, baby. You jus’ make it so easy,” he approaches her with an apologetic expression that doesn’t come off as all that empathetic when he’s fighting off an amused grin the entire time.

“C’mere, yeah?” he coaxes before tugging her into his strong arms; not letting go even when she tries to pull away since she’s still mad at him.

“This one really got to you, huh?” he murmurs into her hair before beginning to soothingly rock back and forth when she finally halts her pursuits of escape.

A faint hum is the only response she grants him.

“Think the last time you were this scared was when we went to that haunted house with your friends last year, remember?” his warm chest rumbles in a pacifying manner in tandem with his words.

“How could I forget,” she huffs out.

“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t wanna watch it? I wouldn’t have cared if we left,” he speaks softly.

“I don’t know…just didn’t wanna seem like a baby in front of your friends,” she sniffles.

“Since when do you care what they think? You hate them,” he argues with a lopsided smile when he releases his hold on her in order to unzip his jeans and change into something more comfortable for the night.

“Hate is a strong word,” she defends herself as she pulls one of Rafe’s old t-shirts over her head and tries to focus on his familiar scent still lingering on the worn-out fabric instead of the imaginary monsters lurking behind the windows.

“Is it?” he graces her with a lighthearted narrow of his eyes.

“Fine. I don’t like them but they’re your friends, which means that I want them to like me,” she mumbles out.

“Don’t really give a shit if they like you or not, which they obviously do. Think a little too much since you can’t help but be the sweetest angel even to the people you hate,” he grumbles out as he walks over to close the bedroom door.

“And honestly, would much rather just stay with you than those pretentious idiots. Next time you wanna go home, just tell me. Don’t want you lyin’ to me, okay?” he says with something sincere sparkling in the lagoons of his eyes.

“Okay,” she promises when suddenly, he switches the lights off with a click, causing her muscles to tense.

“Ray, why would you do that?” she sounds alarmed; inhales and exhales growing labored because the bedroom is now pitch black and there could be anything hiding in the murky corners of the room since she can’t even see herself.

“Shh, calm down. I’ll protect you, yeah?” he croons, before he’s guiding her under the covers with a big hand on the small of her back; following shortly behind her and tugging her flush against his steady chest.

“You’re safe with me. Daddy’s not gonna let anything happen to you, alright?” his saccharine murmurs reach her racing mind and offer it momentary rest on the soft petals of his tranquil voice.

She hums against the skin of his neck as her eyes begin to slowly adjust to the darkness surrounding them; the dingy shadows crawling along the walls appearing less and less threatening by the second when she’s in the warmth of his protective embrace.

“Want your stuffie?” he asks, knowing her all too well.

“Mhm,” she nods against him before he’s reaching a hand behind the pillows because somehow her stuffed animal always manages to end up in the most peculiar of places. At this point though, he already knows where to look since he’s usually the one who has to locate it for her.

Nowadays, she doesn’t need it too often since she has Rafe volunteering to be her own personal teddy bear, but whenever he’s working past midnight, she likes to hold onto something that brings her comfort because she isn’t particularly fond of the idea of sleeping alone.

He soon offers her the plushy lamb and she gives him a grateful smooch against his cheek along with a muffled ‘I love you’.

And that night, he lulls her into dreamland with a warm palm resting on her tummy and his mellow breathing placating her distraught mind.

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sooniebby · 13 days ago

Text

ఌ 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐄

w.c › 6k

Warnings › faceclaims. Part 1. Slow burn, some slight romance with Hyojin (but Mingi is still the main love interest).

Plot › you begin to learn just how obsessive Mingi is

Words to know › maknae (막내) — youngest. Hyung (형) — a term a younger male with call an older male.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Four Years Ago

“They’re going to add another member. To fill a gap, they feel that you guys another need main vocalist.”

When Dawon had told Mingi and the others that, it was like hell broke loose. They all couldn’t believe that the company really believed they weren’t good enough, after all that training.

Hyojin, however, didn’t see the problem with it. He could actually understand where the company was coming from—even if he did hate them for other reasons.

He didn’t think the others couldn’t sing but there was something he felt was missing. A more mature voice—sultry he’d say.

Which was why when everyone met you, he could understand why the company put you in the group. You were the package deal, minus rapping, but that was okay. And while he’d never tell Yohan, you were a much better leader than he could ever be.

So he was a bit upset for you when the other members were set on ignoring you.

The group was finally filming for their debut single. It was a school boy concept, young love and all that. Hyojin didn’t care too much about that. As long as the song was good and he wasn’t forced to make garbage music, he was fine.

“Okay, guys, we’re going to do pairs for this shot,” Gaeul said, getting the boys attentions. “The director said the pairs don’t matter. So, you guys can pick.”

Hyojin didn’t have to put two and two together that it would get awkward fast if they got to who would be forced to pair with you.

So, he eagerly stood up from his seat, “I’ll pair with (Name)-Ssi.” He said, fixing the tie to his uniform. He ignored the glances the others gave him as he looked over at you.

You were staring at him with a shocked face before a wide grin pulled on your lips, “Okay.”

Hyojin smiled slightly. He moved to follow you to the shooting area when he caught a glimpse of Mingi. His eyes widen as he saw Mingi staring at him as if he wanted to murder him. The boy was picking at his pants as he glared at him.

Who knew someone so young could make such a scary face?

Though he didn’t understand why Mingi seemed so angry? Did he.. want to pair with you?

That didn’t make any sense—he didn’t exactly talk to you.

Oh well, Hyojin had other things to worry about.

He was a bit awkward for the camera so he wasn’t having the best of time filming. The amount of times the director told him to not look like he’s having a war flashback was too many to count.

The set was a bedroom, stuff randomly around. This director had wanted it to feel a bit more real and only gave you and Hyojin the direction to act like students who were discussing how to confess to their crush.

Hyojin didn’t know how the fuck he was supposed to do that but you seemed to understand.

Once the camera began to roll, you basically stole the scene with ease. Acting cute seemed like second nature to you. Hyojin just followed whatever you did, letting you lead him.

Just as the scene was about to end, you both sat on the bed as you opened a fake note. Hyojin leaned in to see that there was a little stick figure drawing, causing him to crack a slight smile.

He glanced over and felt himself freeze, your face close to his. You were staring at him with eyes he couldn’t really describe. A soft gaze as a slight smile pulled on your lips.

Did they put lipstick on your—

“Cut!”

“Great job, guys!” Gaeul said, walking over to you two. You easily pulled away as Hyojin tried to think about what just happened.

“Thanks for pairing with me, Hyojin-Ssi.” You said, smiling at him. The rest of the sentence didn’t need to be said.

“I wanted to pair with you… uhm, you don’t need to speak so politely with me.” He said, deciding to bridge the gap.

Your eyes widen before you eagerly nodded, “okay. Call me Hyung then, Jinnie.”

Jinnie?

Oh man, you were too cute.

Gaeul coughed, clapping her hands together, “great, you two are cute! But c’mon, you guys need to film a quick video for the vlog the Dawon is making.”

You and Hyojin joined the other members back in the dressing room. Dawon was holding a camera as he motioned for the group to stand up and start the intro. You stood in the middle as Hyojin stood on your left while a disgruntled Yohan on your right.

It seemed like Yohan wouldn’t like you at all… or anyone besides Hyojin for that matter.

Every member immediately got their camera ready persona on as you smiled, ready to start the introduction when someone stopped you.

“Ah, Hong (Name)-Ssi, you shouldn’t smile, it’ll go against the boyfriend image we have for you,” one of the producers said, causing you to freeze.

Another one hummed in agreement, “and maybe angle your head a bit to left, your face looks better on camera that way.”

Gaeul let out a grunt, “uh, thanks… but I’m his manager.. I can handle the group.”

“Well, handle him better.”

You ignored the questioning stares the members gave you as you dropped your smile. Hyojin wanted to say something back but he was a rookie—he had no power over the people funding their debut.

He could only watch as the light in your eyes practically went out from their berating. From that moment, he could easily tell there was a different set of standards you had to meet compared to the others.

From then on, he was going to help you, in anyway he can.

That’s why he’s your favorite… right?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You wanted to die.

At age twenty five you came like a teenage boy right in front of your maknae.

How embarrassing.

You grabbed your pillow and let out a loud scream, wanting to just close your eyes and never wake up. Mingi was taking a shower and you were scared he’d come into your room later.

There was no way in hell you wanted to see him again tonight.

Maybe tomorrow.

Or a few weeks.

You glanced over at your phone and stared at it for a few minutes. Maybe some posts from those freaky Miras would make you appreciate life again. Or something like that. Whatever bullshit idea you could come up with to justify you still going to the NSFW side of your fandom.

Now that you knew about the rise of gay/bisexual men into you, you wondered if you could find any.

Your biggest fan account, itsokokok had recently posted so decided to see if maybe they were congregating in the replies.

The new three posts of today was from three hours ago. It was from three different album promotions.

The first was from debut: it was a short clip of you in the music video. Your duo scene with Hyojin. You didn’t remember just how cute you acted in it, really playing up the teen boy being in love.

You checked the comments, many filled with people that weren’t Miras. Most of it was just guys saying you were really cute but in a natural way.

Second was of your performance from… pre debut? Huh, how did they find this? You looked to be maybe fifteen—a performance from your high school’s talent show. The video was of you dressed in a suit and tie performing A.D.T.O.Y by 2pm.

Quite the song for fetus you to be performing but hey, none of the adults stopped you.

It seemed the comments did have morals and mostly just complimented your ability to sing and dance at the same time. Though a few wanted you to preform the dance now… probably to thirst over you.

Lastly, the third video was one year old, a short clip of the music video for your second to last comeback. You didn’t know how they could thirst over this but you clicked on the video.

You were wet in the video, standing in front of a swimming pool. Dressed in a white button up and black slacks. The white shirt was stuck to your skin as you delivered your line, tugging at the loose tie around your neck.

At the time, you didn’t find the whole aspect of being wet on camera a bad thing. The song was about drowning in your feelings so being wet made sense.

Though you now regretted it.

@bluemuuun

↳ need him bad… don’t even know his name

@hanniesmira

↳ you don’t know Miracle?! Hong (Name) from Miracle? Dude you’re missing out, they have great songs

@bluemuuun

↳ I’m not even into kpop, I just want to fuck him ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@slipslickk

↳ he looks good wet—I need one of his members to fuck him on stage already pls

@dohasflatass

↳ wonder if Min collapsed after seeing (Name) during shooting ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@hanniesmira

↳ knowing min, he probably threatened anyone who stared for too long ㅎㅎㅎ

@hyunkikii

↳ Mrcle definitely take turns on his ass, got a phatty for real

@hyoojinie

↳ his gaze into the camera is so slutty

Just as you were about to log out, you came across an older post itsokokok posted. It was of your early debut. One of the stage performances. It followed you dancing with a stoic face right when it was your center turn until it was Yohan’s turn.

As soon as the main camera was off you, a wide smile pulled on your lips as you danced along. Whenever it was your turn to sing, you immediately dropped the smile.

You were mostly following the orders the company gave you. Being the stoic boyfriend.

Nowadays you stopped caring but back then you were so scared of being taken out of the group that you followed whatever the company told you.

The comments were filled with comments of Miras, a few stating they missed this side of you. If only they knew that it wasn’t the real you. You scrolled through the comments before seeing one by itsokokok himself.

He was responding to someone saying they loved you when acted stoic, and hating this new ‘fake’ you.

→ then you don’t know the true him

You sat up, staring at the comment for a moment. Itsokokok didn’t seem to really comment. He had little to none captions and just posted once everyday at random times, possibly whenever he was free. It wasn’t even anything too crazy but the comment oddly felt like he knew you?

Well, probably not. He might’ve just noticed that you were putting on an act due to your pre-debut activities. It was a drastic difference if you paid any attention.

Speaking of, how did he find any of your pre-debut stuff? You tried to think if you maybe posted them yourself or maybe your classmates or something.

Maybe your mom? She loved posting videos of your performances on her Instagram. She even gained a lot of followers because of it. Her account was basically a fan account at this point.

He might’ve just found the pre-debut performances she posted, it’s not like she’s hiding it.

You shrugged. It wasn’t too creepy. He seemed to actually appreciate you.

And that’s all you can really ask for in a fan.

“Hyung.”

You blushed and quickly turned off your phone. Mingi stepped into your room, rubbing at his face as he got on your bed. You simply watched him get comfortable before glancing over at you.

“You’re so stiff.” He said, a slight smirk on his lips. “Are you scared I’ll eat you in your sleep?”

“Mingi!” You bristled, quickly turning off your lamp as you got underneath your covered. You kept your back to him as you tried to drown out his laugh.

It was silent after a minute. You glanced back to see him fast asleep. That was fast.

Staring at him, you wondered how much he’s changed. He wasn’t seventeen anymore.

Maybe he really did love you…

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Solo activity?”

Your group mates were looking at you in shock. It had been almost a month since Gaeul had told you about your change in marketing and now the company finally has something for you. Your solo stage.

They were all in your apartment, getting comfy on the couch when you suddenly came out ready to leave. Everyone had been practicing daily for the comeback that they had planned for a relaxed day today.

“Yeah.” You said, feeling a bit nervous. “Did.. Dawon Hyung forget to tell you guys?”

“Oh, yeah, he did.” Yohan muttered.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” Doha said, glancing back at the tv. You wanted to ask what he meant by that but then Yohan delivered a swift kick to Doha’s shin.

“Have you been practicing before us then?” Kihyun suddenly asked. “You’re already prepared to perform it?”

“Mhm… I’ve been practicing daily after our recording sessions.” You bit your lip. “It’s an easy song to learn.”

“Ah okay,” Yohan said, speaking for the others who were just staring at you. “Do you want one of us to come with?”

“Come—? Uh, uhm.” Your eyes gazed at them in disbelief. They wanted to come? Why did it feel like they were attached to your hip these days?

Mingi rolled his eyes, coming out from the kitchen. “(Name) Hyung doesn’t need someone with him. He’s not a baby.”

“You’re just jealous he might not choose you,” Doha shot back, smirking at the deadly glare Mingi sent his way.

“Ah, I guess I could bring one of you guys,” you said, causing them to perk up immediately. Their eyes stared right into your soul. You felt your hands sweat as you tried to think about who to choose.

No way would you choose Mingi… he was making you uncomfortable these days. The way he gazes at you like you’re his entire world is insane!

Yohan would be too annoying.

Kihyun would be a bit awkward.

Doha was being annoying to Mingi and you didn’t want reward his behavior.

Your gaze narrowed in on Hyojin. His eyes met yours as a slight grin pulled on his lips. That’s all he needed as he stood up with a triumphant smile. The others immediately groaned and shook their heads in annoyance.

Hyojin moved to follow you out the door when Mingi suddenly grabbed his arm. You almost yelled at Mingi for his aggressive behavior but Hyojin didn’t look shocked at all.

Mingi whispered something while Hyojin rolled his eyes.

“Childish.” He said, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t touch what’s yours. You should worry about Yohan Hyung instead.”

“What? Yah, what are you talking about?!” Yohan yelled, glancing over at Mingi.

You stood there mouth agape. Mingi didn’t… no way he wouldn’t.. Hyojin grabbed your hand before you could properly spiral and lead you out of the apartment.

Just what the hell was Mingi’s problem?

Hyojin didn’t see you romantically, what is he worrying about?

Once you reached the music show, you were quickly dressed in an outfit to match the song you were performing. It was business casual, apparently.

Hyojin sat on the couch as the stylist helped you get dressed. He was silent for the most part, tapping away on his phone. It was another reason why you chose him. He wasn’t an annoying little shit like the rest of them.

“Jinnie,” you called, fixing the fake glasses on your face. “How does Hyung look?”

It took a minute before he finally glanced up. His eyes widen as he took you in. You were dressed in a white button up, sleeves rolled up with a loose black tie. Black slacks with sleek black dress shoes.

“It reminds me of something I wore before,” you laughed, tugging at the tie as you looked over at him.

Hyojin coughed, the tip of his ears getting red as he mutely nodded. “Mhm… you make it so hard, Hyung.”

“Hm?” You tilted your head, walking over to him as you plopped down beside him on the couch.

“I think Mingi will be upset if I told you… but everyone in the group has.. liked you.”

“Liked me? Like…”

“Romantically.” Hyojin said, smiling slightly. “But Mingi had stronger feelings for you.”

“So what… did he.. did he tell you guys to back off or something?” You asked, still reeling from the fact your members liked you. The thought seemed ludicrous!

“Yeah.” Hyojin said bluntly. “Something like that.”

You raised an eyebrow, “what did he do?”

“Secret.”

“Hyojin.”

“Mhmmm, I can’t remember.”

You glared at him as he went back to his phone. “I don’t understand. You guys really liked me..? How? Why?”

Hyojin shrugged. “I don’t know about the rest of them.. but I just liked you for you. But it wasn’t the strongest feelings.”

The strongest… You briefly wondered about Kihyun. Maybe he had stronger feelings for Kihyun?

But before you could ask, a staff member called for you. Hyojin gave you a thumbs up as you got up and left.

While you were nervous, you weren’t exactly nervous to preform on stage alone. You’ve always performed alone before debuting in Miracle.

The month you spent practicing for the song was a breeze. It was a song that took inspiration from a past song you composed. The choreographer didn’t go all out with the dance.

Though what you were really nervous about was if people would actually care.

What if the so called growing interest in you deflated immediately?

You shook your head, walking onto stage. A group of six dancers followed you. The crowed actually cheered a bit when you came on. There was a few Miracle lightsticks. But immediately, a group of male voices rung out in the building.

Everyone seemed shocked at how loud they were, even the dancers as they got into position. You couldn’t help but grin and eagerly wave at them.

“귀여! ♡♡♡♡!”

“Thank you!” You said into your mic, laughing at the immediate screams from the crowd. You walked to your position, letting the dancers grab your waist as they pulled you to sit on two of their arms—a makeshift throne.

The lights dimmed as you got ready to perform. You tried to remember all the times you performed alone and channeled the energy of younger you.

While you would dance, you would focus mostly on having great vocals. This song was a taste into the title track, you needed to show a great intro.

The performance started with a slight hiccup when the back track started before you but you continued as if nothing happened. It allowed for your vocals to truly show anyway.

The major part of the song that seemed to get most of the crowd excited was when one of the dancers grabbed your tie and tugged you towards him. You couldn’t help the slight blush during that part, feeling oddly excited over it as well.

Was this a kink?

You ended the oddly homoerotic song with the dancers kneeling in front of you, your hand digging into one of the men’s hair.

Cheers erupted as soon as you were finished. You felt excited, hearing mostly male voices scream your name. The dancers immediately stood up and grabbed you, lifting you up in the air as you shrieked in shock. Your arms immediately wrapped around one of their shoulders at the sudden movement.

If only you knew just how angry this little action would make a certain someone.

The drive home felt long for some reason. Hyojin was on his phone so you decided to check how Miras were doing.

Not too surprising, not that many Miras talked about the performance. However non fans were praising it. Itsokokok had posted.

It was three posts, seems like he had a pattern. The first was of your recent performance. A short video of the moment when the dancer pulled your tie. Your face didn’t hide any of the hidden pleasure you got from that short moment.

During practice, the pull was never harsh so it really did shock you when he tugged it harder this time around.

Of course, the comments were filled with people thirsting. Mostly non fans—gay men in particular. The same Miras that actually liked you were thirsting over you while also gushing at how you finally had a solo activity.

Shocker, the NSFW side that talked about your members fucking you actually appreciated you.

The next post was of a pre-debut one. This time, it was a nineteen year old you preforming an original song. It was the song the company used to create the solo song you just preformed.

Most of the comments didn’t seem to notice this at all. You were mainly shocked the account owner even found this clip.

Lastly, it was a clip from the group’s occasional vlog. From the setting, it was of the time the group was planning Mingi’s nineteenth birthday. You were kneeling down as you picked something up.

The camera was just on you as you arched your back by pure instinct. You don’t even remember doing that. A laugh was heard from the camera man, you quickly noticed it was Yohan filming before video you looked back and glared at Yohan.

“Go do something useful!” You had yelled, “Minnie’s party has to be good. I won’t let you ruin it.”

@bluemuuun

↳ does his back naturally arch like that??

@hanniesmira

↳ his relationship with min is so cute.. i bet today’s performance killed min ㅋㅋㅋ

Before you could read the rest, the van reached the apartment complex. You and Hyojin left as you got inside. Hyojin waved you good night before going into his shared apartment with Kihyun.

You wondered back to his claim of the members all liking you.

That just didn’t make any sense.

As you moved to unlock the door to your apartment, it swung open, showing a pissed Mingi.

Fuck.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“How was the performance?”

Hyojin glanced over at Kihyun. He had just walked in and was set on just speed walking straight to his bedroom. Kihyun was sitting in the couch and didn’t look away from the tv.

“It was good, Hyung is a good performer.” Hyojin muttered, slipping off his shoes. He slipped off his coat and slowly walked over to the living room.

“Yeah, he is.”

“Well… I’ll go to bed—”

“Hyojin.”

Hyojin sighed, looking back at Kihyun. Kihyun was finally looking over at him. His piercing gaze made his back tense. The slight hums of the tv filled the odd tension as Hyojin fought the urge to just walk away. It was too late to be dealing with this.

“Are you… still upset about what I said this morning?” Kihyun finally said, his gaze softening.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kihyun stood up from the couch as he walked over to Hyojin. “I didn’t think it would upset you… I thought you were over him.”

Hyojin felt his jaw tighten, “you might’ve gotten over Hyung easily but I actually liked him. I liked him a lot—I only backed off because Mingi was right, (Name) Hyung would never see me romantically.”

“So… what’s the problem? Aren’t we—?”

“—dating?” Hyojin pinched his nose before letting out a sigh. “I don’t know, are we? You only want to have sex, nothing else. Even if we are ‘dating’—I won’t allow you to speak about my past feelings as if they were trivial.

“(Name) Hyung is an important part of my life, especially because he��s still here. It’d be different if he wasn’t around anymore. So I’m sorry, Hyung, my feelings for (Name) Hyung wasn’t some three second attraction like yours… If two years ago, (Name) Hyung had returned my feelings in anyway… I’d never have gotten with you.”

Kihyun sighed, “I didn’t mean it that way, Hyojin… I didn’t realize you had liked him that much. I—”

“Hyung.” Hyojin interrupted him. “Come back to me once you figure out if you want to be boyfriends or just fuck buddies. I’m not breaking myself over another guy.”

With that, he walked into his room, slamming the door shut.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Mingi immediately tugged you inside and glared at you. “What type of solo stage was that?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, moving to walk to your room. Mingi was already following you as you tried to keep yourself calm.

You were older! You’re the group leader… he needs to.. he can’t treat you like this.

Especially over a simple performance.

“Hyung.” Mingi’s voice was tight. “We’ve never performed a song like that before—the company never allowed it.”

“Well they’re just trying something new with me. They’ve finally noticed a group of people they can advertise me to. I can..” you placed your bag on your bed and sighed, “I can gain some fans that actually care about me.”

“Fans? Is that all you care about? What about the music?”

“Mingi, obviously I care about the music!” You said, staring at him as he stood in your doorway. “But it’s normal to want positive feedback from sharing your art! You get it all the time, I’ve seen how Miras react to you.”

“So what, you’ll feed into the silly relationship the company uses to get people’s money?!”

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Mingi, it’s not that serious. I’ve always wanted to do a sexy concept anyway—no one forced me.”

As you glanced back at him, any anger you had tempered down. You couldn’t be mad at him—not for long anyway. “I get it… you’re just worried but I consented to everything.” You muttered, hoping that would calm him down.

“So you consented to be whored out for some fans that only like you because they want to fuck you?”

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

A laugh left your lips as you stared straight at Mingi.

“Choi Mingi.” You whispered, your gaze hardening as your fists clenched. The words you wanted to say was in the tip of your tongue and if you weren’t so angry—you would’ve held back.

But you didn’t.

“Remember your place.” You said, walking over to him. “I am your Hyung, not your boyfriend. I’m not yours and you can’t act so possessive over me, do you understand? I don’t know what you told the others but it’s not your right to tell them to back off.”

“You—?”

“Yes I know! I’m not your boyfriend and I won’t ever be your boyfriend!” You yelled, pushing Mingi out of your room, causing him to bang his head right against the wall. He stared at you in shock as you froze. Any anger you had was gone as you wanted to rush and check if he was okay.

But you couldn’t.

You shouldn’t.

You cleared your throat as you glanced down at the ground. Your throat felt tight. “Choi Mingi, I don’t think you really love me… because if you did, you wouldn’t have insulted me to my face.”

A pained whimper left your throat as you quickly looked away from Mingi. “I’ll go… spend tonight with Hyojin. Don’t.. don’t bother me.. please.” You whispered, moving to leave as quickly as you could.

A hand gripped your arm before you could even step an inch away. Your body tensed as you waited to see what Mingi would say. He didn’t feel like that boy you knew… how much had he changed?

You reluctantly glanced back to see what he was going to say only to see him kneel down. Your eyes widen as he pressed his head against the floor, hands resting on the ground.

“죄송합니다. 죄송합니다, 형.”

“Mingi…” You whispered. You slowly knelt down and gripped at Mingi’s shoulders, pushing to make him sit up but he fought against you. He kept repeating himself, his words slowly being muffled by the sound of his gasps.

“Mingi. Choi Mingi.” With his refusal to look up, you decided to try a different method. “I’ll leave.. I’ll go to Hyojin if you don’t look at me.”

You got whiplash at how quick he looked up. Your gaze softening at the sight of his face. His eyes were red as tears streamed down his face, his face blotchy and red already. He kept gasping for air as if crying so hard was taking his breath away.

Despite yourself, you remembered the only other time he cried so hard in front of you.

“Childish. You really are childish.” You whispered, wiping away at his face. His body physically loosened at your touch as he leaned into it. Though you could tell he wasn’t coming any closer, even if his hands twitched to touch you.

It didn’t look like he was in the capacity to speak so you decided to do it for him.

“I’m upset, Mingi. I’m so upset you would hurt me like this. Were you jealous? Why would you say that about me?”

Mingi shook his head.

“Then why did you say that? What could you have possibly meant?”

“Scared..” he managed to mutter, taking a second to take a deep breath. “You’re… older… I’m… younger… the.. dancer… older… what if… what if you want an older man…? What if… you’ll leave me… because he’s better..”

You blinked, staring at him confusion. “Mingi, that’s so silly.” You whispered, cooing when he tried to glare at you—it didn’t pack a punch with his face wet with tears. “You were insecure and that’s okay… but that was not the way to go about it. Are you scared that… I’ll leave you if I get more fans?”

He hummed. “You… might… leave the group.”

“Why would I? You have solo activities but you don’t want to leave the group. I can have solo activities too. I like our group. You’re really acting your age, Mingi.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say as he immediately began to try and pull away. You pulled him back in quickly as you brought his face to yours.

“Next time, if you’re feeling a certain way, you can.. voice it? Instead of talking down on me, okay?” You said, giving him a slight smile. “But I’m happy you immediately apologized. I didn’t think you would do that.”

Mingi sniffled, finally sitting up straight. “It’s because I—”

You clamped his mouth shut, a blush on your face. Mingi only rolled his eyes. Even when he was sad he had the strength to roll his eyes. Wow.

Despite yourself, the previous anger wasn’t as strong anymore. You didn’t think you would be so easy to forgive but you were. Was it because he apologized? He seemed so sincere that you knew it wasn’t a joke—Mingi can’t cry on command, he’s tried many times.

Surprisingly only Kihyun could.

He… he really loved you?

“Minnie,” you said, unable to hide the smile at his eager gaze from hearing his nickname. “Is it true… that you told the other members to back off?”

Mingi frowned before he silently nodded.

“Why….?”

He pulled your hand away from his mouth as he looked away. “They didn’t love you like I do. It was just simple infatuation…”

“How could you be so sure?”

Mingi raised an eyebrow, “Hyung, I’ve trained with them since I was fourteen… I’ve known them longer than you do. Besides, it’s not like they fought me on it… well not all of them.”

“All of them…? Did…?”

“One person disagreed.”

“Who?”

“Secret.”

“Mingi.”

“Ah, I can’t really remember.”

“You and Hyojin are the same, little shits.” You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “But still, that was wrong of you. You shouldn’t mess with anyone else’s feelings.”

Mingi looked as if he wanted to talk back but simply nodded. “Okay… it was two years ago anyway.”

“Two years ago?”

“Mhm. On my nineteenth birthday.”

“Ah.”

You wanted to ask more but it looked like Mingi was done talking. He rubbed at his eyes as he began wiping at his tear stained face. While you weren’t angry anymore, you still weren’t exactly so forgiving without any work on Mingi’s part.

“Minnie,” you said, watching as he perked up. “I’m still mad… so you can’t touch me at all for a month.”

His eyes widen as he stared at you as if you just told him his parents died in a plane crash. His lips wobbled as a pained grunt left him, he was obviously trying to plead a case but the rational part of him knew not to push it.

He looked as if he’d cry again.

You only smiled. “Punishment for calling your Hyung a whore. I think I’m being quite nice, don’t you think?”

Mingi squared his jaw. “Yes, Hyung…”

“Good boy.” You whispered, smirking at his pained expression. “You can’t sleep with me tonight, unless you want to sleep on the floor. Night, Minnie.”

Mingi was going to have a tough month.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

→ have you guys seen this performance??

→ 씨발! If I had a dick it’d be hard ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

→ who is this???

→ he sounds so good??

→ wish I could pay attention to the lyrics but his ass is distracting me

→ 대박! He sounds so stable

→ I found his group performances!!! Why is he so underrated??

→ does he have any other solo work?

→ my dick hard

→ the group sings so well, I’ll tune in for their comeback!!

→ his photo cards are cheap!! I’ll buy a dozen ㅋㅋㅋ

→ I think I came

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Three years ago

Mingi was confused. He saw so many fan accounts for other members. Way too many for himself—he didn’t get what was so special about him. But little to none accounts solely for you. The group had debuted a year ago, surely someone likes you enough to create an account?

He sighed, scrolling through the lists of popular Miras accounts. Why weren’t they praising you? You were the best, a great singer, dancer, and leader.

Was it because you didn’t fit the Korean beauty standards?

How stupid.

Mingi didn’t care about what fans thought of him so long as they liked the music—but it seemed to bother you that no one was giving you any attention.

So, he decided to rectify that.

It took him a minute but he soon figured out how to create an account.

He chose his profile picture—a picture from the group’s season greetings, one where you had frosting on your nose as you smiled at the camera.

He’d never use social media before so his generic names for the account were all taken. He didn’t know what else to name the stupid account as, it was just so he could post pictures and videos of you.

After a short break before he mentally crashed out, he decided on a different name.

Itsokokok

It was a lyric from the group’s debut title track. Your first line of the song. Not many people would probably know but that was fine with him. The account was honestly mainly for him.

He didn’t know what his first post should be so he decided on a picture he took of you. Luckily he had posted it on the group’s Instagram so no one would think anything of it. It was a candid photo, you were looking up from your phone because he had called your name. You looked so cute despite how tired you were.

His first ever picture of you was his first ever post.

Shit, he was down bad.

no smut this time, sorry yall, but chapter three will give yall what’s deserved, next week Friday. Trying something different with this OC. Anyway, next chapter, he’s about to get freaky. Also can you guess who was the member that refused Mingi’s request? ;)

죄송합니다 — is the most formal way to say sorry in Korean

Tag list: @euthymiko @love-kha1 @iwishtobeacrow @chill-guy-but-cooler @tehyunnie @tomoeroi @smellwell @remdayz @star-3214 @mooncarvers-world @rhetorical-conscience @cherry-blossoms-187 @ofclyde @the-ultimate-librarian @kiiyoooo @secretivemessenger @mello-life25 @yuzuukix @bensontrechic @onementally-unstabel-kid @me-when-life @bangbangdevotee @chaevvonders @bangchansdirty-slut @honey-valentin3 @hoshimochicchi @lucaisnothere @jaxyy219

#bottom male reader #x male reader #sub male reader #uke male reader #male reader #oc x reader #smut drabble #male bottom reader #original character

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notherpuppet · 8 months ago

Text

Someone asked if I was adding more to "Buckshot"

...and then I accidentally posted it before I was done answering LOL. Anyway, here was the answer:

I have some ideas that I just haven't fleshed out yet. But I really like that AU and I want to return to it.

As for the Buckshot specific "chapter"...I do have some 'deleted scenes' that I just didn't feel like drawing (laziness) but hmm maybe i'll get the motivation to sketch them out eventually.

Some deleted scenes:

Scene 1.5 [Lucifer looks at Alastor's wounds as he's changing his bandages and clothes. Alastor's covered in severe scars exhibiting many different kinds of injuries.] Lucifer: "So many scars...I wonder what he's been through..." [Lucifer glances at Alastor's face, which somehow still has a faint, but visible smile.] Lucifer (incredulous and annoyed): "Yet he always keeps that smile on his face..." CUT TO FLASHBACK MONTAGE: Lucifer, Alastor, and Charlie playing in the park, eating dinner altogether, and singing backup for Charlie while Alastor plays the piano. [Lucifer smiles softly and turns up the corners of Alastor's sleeping smile.] Charlie: "I thought Al needed to sleep!" >:-0 [Lucifer draws his hands back suddenly, embarrassed.] Lucifer: "Where did you--" [Charlie climbs onto Alastor's rest bed. She haphazardly reaches for Alastor's face.] Charlie: "My turn or it's not fair!" >:-D Lucifer: "Charlie, no!" --- Scene 4.5 (happens at the dinner party, in Lucifer's room, after Alastor bleeds through his shirt) [Lucifer quickly changed into a red tuxedo. Alastor is lagging, due to his pain and need to clean his wound with a soft cloth.] Lucifer: "Let me help you--" Alastor: "I can handle this." Lucifer: "Would you stop being so stubborn? You're drugged up, drunk, and moving slow as hell. You want to arouse more suspicion or do you wanna get this over with?" [Alastor rolls his eyes and rudely tosses the cloth at Lucifer's face. Lucifer's quick reflexes catch the cloth effortlessly.] Lucifer: "That's what I thought." [Lucifer begins to clean Al's wound. Alastor has a pained expression. He winces and grabs Lucifer's wrist forcefully.] Alastor: "You're being a brute." [Alastor guides Lucifer's hand gently and drops his hand once Lucifer adapts. Lucifer helps bandage Alastor back up and get dressed. They're now both in new tuxedos, sans bow ties. Before Lucifer can grab his bowtie, Alastor snatches it.] Alastor: "Allow me." Lucifer: "I can tie my own bow tie." Alastor: "Did you not say we were in a hurry? I think we both know it will go faster if I just tie it." [Lucifer rolls his eyes but resigns. Alastor ties the bowtie swiftly and perfectly.] Lucifer: "Ugh, how do you do this so easily? Aren't you high?" Alastor: "As a kite." [There is a beat and they both share a laugh. Suddenly they hear a distant voice yelling:] Adam (distant): "So much for a quickie!" Alastor: "We should go."

#and before y'all start #i'm not drawing this #me @ me #i mean...right??? i'm not gonna..am i?? ugh i don't know #i don't think i have the energy #anyway #radioapple #fanfiction #honestly i think it would be fun to share more 'screenwriting' style fanfiction i got #because i can't draw all these scenes...it's too much #human au

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scarletlizzard · 10 months ago

Text

Inked Desires

Pairing: g!p Natasha x fem! Reader

Tags Minors DNI: smut, Natasha has a dick, also covered in tattoos w/ piercings, buff out of this world, she's hot okay, cunnilingus, handjobish, unprotected sex, breeding yup, alcohol at the beginning

A/N: I'm cheating and putting these two requests together, oops! This is my first time writing something like this, so please be gentle. Also, would really love some feedback on this so I know for the future to either write more like this or just tell me to stop now. Thanks so much for reading and thanks for the requests!! 🩵

Masterlist

~~~

"Here, take this!" Your friend says over the loud music, handing you another cup half filled with a mixture of liquor.

You don't question her and take the cup from her, drinking it down in only two gulps. Kate laughs and cheers as you do, doing the same with the cup she held.

By now, you were a few drinks in, and the house Kate had dragged you to was full of people. This definitely wasn't your type of scene, but as you danced among the bodies in the lowlit living room, you couldn't help but feel grateful she had.

As your hips move against your friend, she leans over to your ear. "She's staring at you again," Kate laughs, and your eyes move to the corner of the room.

There was the stranger of the night, a tall woman who stood out, whose green eyes had been watching your every move since you walked in the door. Her muscular arms were covered with art of all kinds, disappearing up into the sleeves of her shirt. She brought her red cup to her lips again, her face mostly hidden from the light.

Instead of replying, you only continue to dance, this time keeping eye contact with your stranger. The woman watches as your hips sway, your hands traveling your own body as you move to the music. It doesn't take long after that before she's finally striding across the room, standing a head taller than most of the crowd.

When she reaches you, you can finally see the rest of her gorgeous face. Above her sprightly green eyes, you noticed a piercing on her eyebrow, a few on her nose, and one on the bottom lip of the smirk she gave you. As she stands in front of you, you literally have to look up at her, and you realize she was much more toned up close.

"I'm just gonna grab another drink!" Kate raises her voice above the music for the two of you to hear.

"I'll catch up with you later!" You shout back to which she only laughs and shoots you a "Yeah, right," before walking off.

You turn your attention back to the stranger.

"Hi," she smiles.

"Hi," you reply curiously.

"I haven't seen you here before. What's your name?" She asks. Her eyes shamelessly roam the soft features of your face and the curves of your body.

"Y/N... this is my first time here. What's yours?" You ask with a blush on your cheeks. She tucks back her red hair behind one of her ears, revealing to you even more piercings.

You don't know if it's the alcohol or the feeling the stranger ignited in your chest, but you feel compelled to step forward and rest your hand on her muscular bicep. Your finger traces the tattoos that littered the skin there.

"Natasha," she says with a smile. "Wanna go upstairs?" A cock of her eyebrow with the piercing sticking out is enough to get you wet.

***

As soon as the door closes, the two of you are on each other, kissing feverishly. Her hands are under your shirt, touching your skin as she lifts you against the door. Your legs wrap around her hips, and you smile against her lips at how easily she lifted you. She was strong. You could feel her muscles under her tight shirt, squeezing you impossibly close.

But when her tongue slips past your lips, you gasp and pull away, a string of saliva pulling between your mouths.

"What's wrong? Do you need to stop?" She asks with a concerned expression. You look at her with wide eyes.

"No - no, I'm fine, it's just. Is your tongue...?" You didn't know how to ask. She chuckles and ducks her head before looking back at you. Natasha lets her tongue slide across her top lip, and it's then your suspicions are confirmed.

"Split, and yes... it will feel better," Natasha says in a cocky tone, her lips attaching to your neck as she carries you to the bed. You feel your back hit the soft mattress, and she lets go of you to remove your shirt.

"I want to see them all," you breathe out and run your finger over the skin on her arm. She smiles and pulls back, taking off her shirt to reveal she was completely covered. "They're beautiful..." You let your eyes take in the sight of the art, your hands tracing the dark lines and over the grooves of her abs. Natasha is a God.

As she continues to undress you, she kisses as much skin as she can, her lips soft and wet with every touch. When she gets to your breasts, you feel her tongue spread, taking your nipple between the two halves and sucking it.

"Oh- oh fuck," you moan out, suprised at the unfamiliar feeling and how good it felt. Natasha hums and lays you back, kissing down your stomach. When she spreads your legs she looks at you with hungry eyes, seeing how wet you already were.

"All this for me, baby?" She asks, letting a finger move up and down your wet folds. Your body shivers with anticipation. The way she looked at you, the way she looked, you were willing to let this stranger do absolutely anything to you.

"All for you.." You husk back, watching her split tongue wet her lips again.

Natasha kneels down at the edge of the bed and puts your legs over her shoulders, her hands grip your thighs tightly.

"How fucking lucky am I then?" She smirks up at you before placing soft, teasing kisses on your thighs.

You feel her mouth attach to your clit, and the heat in your stomach burns hotter. She licks up your slit, groaning as she tastes you.

"Fuck you taste so good," Natasha moans and let's her tongue lick up to your clit. She let's the two halves spread and rub against you. The new feeling makes you arch your back, your head thrown against the comforter.

"G-God Nat, that feels so good!" You moan and try to squeeze your thighs, but her grip kept your legs spread as she continued to eat you out. The sounds of her mouth against your wet pussy were the most sinful sounds you had ever heard, and the moans leaving your mouth were sounds nobody had ever elicited from you before.

She groans against you, the vibrations causing even more pleasure. "That's it baby," she says in between licks, "Want you to cum all over my face." Natashas tongue moves in two different ways, the coil in your lower stomach twisting up.

Your hands grip the comforter as she moves quicker, and the coil begins to unravel as you come undone

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," your back arches again and your legs tremble around her head as you let out a pornographic moan. Natasha hums agaisnt you as you come, her hands not flinching to hold your thighs apart.

She licks every drop, her tongue swirling around your sensative clit one more time before she lets go and stands up. "Come here," Natasha commands, and with a dizzy mind you sit up, trying to catch your breath. She bends down to take your jaw, kissing you rough and sloppily. You forces you to taste yourself, and her tongue pushes in your mouth, wrapping around your own tongue.

You can smell your own arousal on her face, feeling it wet your nose and lips. You blush, almost embarrassed with how wet this stranger made you.

"Now lets see how well you can ride my cock," Natasha chuckles and pulls back to remove her remaining clothes. Your eyes are settled on her breasts, unable to remove them from the piercings on her nipples. When you can pull yourself away from the sight of the silver metal against pink, you look down to see her remove her underwear. She was hard, painfully hard just from eating you out.

She tosses the boxers in the corner where other random clothes lay, and you gave her a curious look. "It's my room, don't worry. Didn't even know you were in my house, did you, love?" Natasha strides back to the bed and sits with her back against the headboard, pulling you closer to her.

"No, I didn't. I'm sorry... my friend kind of dragged me out tonight," you say with red cheeks, and she kisses you desperately.

"Thank God she did," Nat mumbles against your lips. She lets out a groan as your hand reaches between the two of you to lightly grip her cock, and you could feel how she was already throbbing for you. You begin to move your hand up and down slowly as the kiss turns sloppy, her tongue sliding yours between hers. Natasha revels in the feeling of her in your soft hand, your delicate fingers moving along the veins of erection.

"Shit - that feels so good," she moans into the kiss as your hand movements speed up. Your thumb swipes across the tip, precum dripping out already. You smile at the low moan that leaves her lips and continue to jerk her as you kiss. "I need you, please. Fuck I need to be inside you," she begs, and the sound of her begging was something you wanted to hear again. You take her lower lip between your teeth, sucking on the piercing before letting go with a 'pop'.

"I wanna ride you so bad, Nat.. I'm so wet for you," you whisper and let your kisses trail down to her sharp jaw. You feel her cock twitch in your hand as you speak and she grabs your wrist to stop your hand movements, panting as she does.

Natasha turns you around quickly, groaning at the sight of your ass as you straddle her lap and let her hands guide you onto her thick cock. You slide down slowly, letting out a moan when you feel her filling you up.

"Just relax baby, you're so fucking tight," she mumbles as she watches herself slowly disappear inside of you. She let's out a low moan as she feels your hot cunt swallow her, the back of head hitting the headboard when she feels your walls squeezing her. The feeling alone was enough for her mind to sever ties with reality, the only thought was you.

The sensation has that coil tightening inside of you again. You rest your hands on her toned thighs for support, relishing in the way her muscles flexed underneath your fingertips.

Natashas' hands continue to guide you, and after you had adjusted to her large size, you begin to grind yourself down on her lap.

"Just like that baby, fuck... feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock. You were just made to take me," she groans, her words only driving you to move your hips faster.

Her large hands move to your sides and up your body, groping your skin as she starts to move her hips up to meet yours. The two of you find a rythem together, and soon you find yourself willingly bouncing on her cock. Her hands moved to gather your hair, wrapping it into a fist in her right hand. She tugs on it and pulls your head back, a loud moan leaves your lips at the feeling.

"You like it when I'm rough with you, don't you?" She smirks, tugging your hair again.

"Yes - god, yes, Nat!" You whine as her lips find your neck. She bites down hard on your pulse point, surely leaving a mark, and leaves hot open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

"I know you do, you little slut. Fucking dripping on my cock. You feel how easy I slide in and out of you?" She says and with her left hand she grabs your jaw. "Answer me."

"I'm so wet, you make me so wet," you whine again, feeling her fingers move between your teeth. You suck hard as you look in her eyes, your tongue swirling around spit dripping down your chin. When you bite down, it surprises her, but she only chuckles darkly.

In a second, Natasha had let go of your hair and pushed you down face first onto the mattress. You gasp at the sudden emptiness, but soon after, she's lifting your hips and sliding into you again. Both of you moan at the feeling of how deep she goes.

"Christ, it doesn't matter how long I fuck you. You're just - so - fucking tight," she grunts in between words, her cock drilling you into oblivion. With every thrust you can hear the bedframe hitting the wall, and you can't help the pitiful noises that leave your mouth.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum," You rasp out. A sharp slap on your ass makes you whimper as you feel it begin to sting.

"No, shit, hold it in," Natasha warns. You feel the pressure of her body move on top of you. The piercings on her breasts rub against your back with each powerful thrust, and her arm moves underneath your neck to hold you tightly.

Natasha grunts in your ear as she pounds into you, letting out a moan when she feels your slick cunt tighten around her length. "I'm almost there, baby. Are you gonna be a good girl and come all over my cock?"

You nod the best you can in her tight grip, only able to get out a "Yes," in between gasps.

"You feel so good, Y/N. You want me to cum inside you? Fuck- I wanna fill up your tight little pussy so bad..." She groans against you and her words send you over the edge.

"Oh god, Nat! Please fill me up, please," you beg her, and just the thought of it is enough to let go. Your orgasm ripples through your body, sending shockwaves of pleasure to your core.

Natasha moans loudly as she feels you coating her cock with your cum, and she can no longer hold back. "Fuck- Y/N!" She groans and you whine as you feel her hot load spurting inside of you, her cock twitching as she slows her movements. "Take every.. last.. drop.." She pants as she thrusts a few more times.

The two of you stay like that for a while, her cock inside you as she stills above you. Your head rests against her arm as you attempt to catch your breath. When she removes herself slowly, and you wince at the soreness and empty feeling. Natasha lays next to you and you turn on your side to face her.

"Hi," she chuckles at the exhausted features on your face.

"You just fucked the life out of me and you're going to say... 'hi' ?" You laugh, suprised to see a blush on the strong womans cheeks as she laughs along with you. Your hand reaches out, resting on her stomach and tracing the lines of her tattoos again.

After the two of you clean yourselves up, you begin to dress yourself, feeling her eyes on you as you pull your shirt over your head.

"You don't have to go, you know. I'm not like that," she says gently, and you look up to see her pulling on a pair of jeans. You smile at her kind demeanor and walk over to her.

"I have to take my friend home," you say and lean up on your toes to kiss her cheek. She has to bend down for you to reach her lips, but she doesn't complain.

"Well, maybe I can take you out sometime," Natasha smirks and rests her hands on your waist. You nod as you look up to her.

"I would love that.." You reply honestly, wanting nothing more than to get to know her and count the endless tattoos that cover her body.

#marvel #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x you #natasha x reader #g!p natasha #g!p natasha x reader #natasha x fem!reader #buff natasha

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moechies · 3 months ago

Text

kinktober ⋆౨ৎ entry #3 ; throat training w nanami kento .ᐟ

dear diary ♡,

last night, i gave kento a blowjob / head ! it was terrible, though, and i’m surprised he didn’t hate it! it was my first time — i was spluttering all over the place and messed up his pants >< so embarrassing! i’m embarrassed to even reminisce back to the scene! i dunno . . i think, maybe he liked it because he kept groaning (?) and i swear it was growing harder and harder in my mouth each time i choked. i heard that guys like those things . . at the mention of choking — his cock was hitting the back of my throat so much and making me teary! because he didn’t let me touch or wipe my face, i bet i looked so stupid with teary eyes and a big cock in my mouth (T_T) even though it’s all terribly embarrassing, i can’t help but want to do it again . .

“kenny, d’you still like me?” you quip, joking half-heartedly. you sink into the couch besides him, tossing your leg over his. he lets out a soft grunt, tugging your body closer and onto his — falling pliant against his warmth.

“why do you ask, honey? of course i do.” he speaks, purring against his chest. “how’s your throat?”

you huff, nuzzling closer into his chest and taking a longed whiff of scent. fuck. “kenny . . i wanna do it again.”

“what is it you want to do again, doll?” he questions, his fingers twirling into the soft strands of your hair.

“wan—wanna suck your dick again.” you whine, pressing your chin onto his chest and looking up at him. he’s already peering down at you, admiring the soft shimmer of need and want in your eyes. “please . .”

“hmm . . no can do doll.” he hums, grinning at your dedication. his hand leaves your hair, coming to softly wrap around your throat. you let out a soft, pained squeak, the ache in your throat prominent. “see? you’re still hurting here.”

“‘s only a bit . .” you whine hoarsely as his hand snakes to the back of your neck, tugging you close to press a gentle kiss against your forehead. “making you feel g—good is more important.”

“that’s not true. your health is most important, sweet girl.” he speaks sternly, laying against the cushion and taking you down with him. you can feel the chub of his cock beginning to stiffen, prodding against your tummy where you lay against him. your innocent demeanor and soft tone don’t fit the conversation’s topic — maybe that’s what’s making him so fucking hard.

you giggle, tracing a finger down his chest, feeling his heaves grow manual. “kento, can feel you gettin’ hard below me.” you purr, tugging yourself higher up onto his body by his neck. you wrap your arms tightly around his strong neck, as tight as it permits with his huge collarbones. you nuzzle against his cheek, pressing an abundance of kisses onto his freshly shaven face. “let me, jus’ teach me, i know you want to.”

he growls when you paw at his bulge, bucking his hips into your hand as his way of approval. you giggle — he’s too easy. but how could he say no to those gorgeous begging orbs and your soft squeaks of his name? darling — he is a strong man but . . not that strong.

nanami flips you under him, arms caged around your body as he hovers over you. he stands tall, eyes never leaving your face as his hand drags across his clothes bulge, making the shape prominent through his sweats. “come here.” he commands, and you reach your arms forward, crawling towards him on fours like an obedient puppy.

you paw at the waistband of his pants and he lets you — lets you tug down on the loose fabric to reveal his now thinly clothed cock solely covered by his cotton briefs. you feel yourself damn near salvitate at the sight before you, easily able to locate his bridged tip that lays clad against his right thigh. “how does your throat feel?”

“‘s alright kento . .” you mumble with no regards for your throat, eyes zeroed in on the fat tip of his cock you need to suck on.

“hey. do you remember what i taught you yesterday?” he chuckles, fingers tapping on your hot cheek to bring you back to reality. your eyes flutter back into his face, giving him a soft nod before leaning into the apple of his palm. his hand moves from where it once laid against your cheek to the bottom of your jaw, pulling you forward and mere inches away from his shaft. he uses a thumb to tug down at the band of his briefs, teasing his fat, blushed tip right in your face. you whine, pacing back and forth from his face to his cock for a green light — and he gives you a nod.

you give his damp slit a soft, shaky peck, growing goosebumps across the back of your arms and across your back when you hear him chuckle. you’re nervous and he can tell — but he won’t make you a fool. his hand still cups your jaw gently, thumb trailing to press at your puffy lower lip as a way to signal — stick out your tongue.

and of course you do — pink tongue sticking out before giving his slit an experimental lick, laying the hot muscle fully across his leaking hole. he groans at the warmth and velvet touch, and you feel him twitch below your tongue. it doesn’t take long for your confidence to boast, enveloping his fat cock head with your soft, chubby lips.

kento sighs, his right leg stepping up on the cushioned couch where you’re sprawled. he tugs the remainder of his briefs below his plump balls, giving you the full view of his swollen, flushed shaft before you. it’s intimidating of course — but, you can do it. you’re sure you can.

with confidence soaring through your body, and a low groan to boost so, you take him further into your mouth, slobbering over the first few inches of his shaft. you moan at the stiff being in your mouth, running your tongue on the underside of his top before swirling it over. “fuck.”

nanami quickly bucks his hips, mumbling quiet apologies when he hears you squeak from the sudden movement. you peer up at him, his disheveled hair and heavy pants paired with lidded eyes tell you something he doesn’t need to express verbally.

“are you ready to take more?” he asks all sultry, as if he was offering you a sweet treat. in a sense, he was.

you nod gently, sure to keep your teeth away from the shaft. it’s sensitive here, try to keep your teeth tucked in, and don’t bite down no matter how much it hurts.

you flashback to the night before, cunt quivering at the reminder. his hands grip a tad tighter at your jaw, pressing himself into your mouth further than you had expected — his cock slides to the left side of your cheek. he moans wantonly, gently thrusting at the soft walls of your mouth.

you look great like this.

he readjusts himself, pulling himself out before pressing himself deep into the depths of your mouth as you permit it to — finally hitting the rim of your throat. he gives it an experimental thrust, and low and behold comes what you have dreaded most ; you gag.

you look up to him with watery eyes, swollen lips pulling away from his shaft with his cock still lodged deep in your mouth. you splutter — coughing lowly at the intrusion.

“see? you��re still much too inexperienced to take it.” he chuckles, giving your throat another gentle squeeze. to his entertainment, it makes you gag again, the rim of your throat tightening and he feels it all.

your brows furrow, and you sniffle gently, desperate to reach to wipe away the forming tears. without remorse, nanamin’s hips press forward, bulging at your resisting throat. “open up.” he groans, a hand coming to swipe away your hairs.

you do — you try — loosening your jaw and throat like he taught you the night before. his chubby tip lodges deep into your throat at the intial loosening, and you gag harshly around him. “calm down darling,” he coos, thumb coming up to wipe at your damp cheeks and nuzzle your face in a comforting sense. he thrusts slowly, careful not to trigger another gag. your sniffles are staggered, eyes shut tight, “nice and slow . . .” he drags out, nearly stuffing the remainder of himself down your swollen throat. the ache in your throat is growing more prominent, as is the ache in your sore cunt. it aches everywhere, and you need kento to satiate it.

"you're making me so proud, darling." nanami's leg steps forward, closing the distance between your mouth and the base of his cock. you sigh internally, body shivering when you feel his dewy balls against your chin, the damp sweat making it so that his ball sack sticks to you. you bravely press yourself deeper into him, another low gag is elicited but it doesn't stop you from nuzzling against his manhood, taking a longed whiff of his honey-blonded bush. the rough patch of hair rubs against your nose, making you moan. you look up to him again, eyes lidded and lashes fluttering incessantly — god, you drive him crazy. he looks away — he has to, or he might just cum deep in that warm throat of yours and disappoint you, darling.

his hand readjusts, the one once gripping your jaw comes up to tug at your hair once you’ve adjusted to him. “baby listens to her daddy so well, doesn’t she?” your heart flutters at the mention of your favorite nickname for him — his eyes meeting yours expectingly. you nod with your eyes, pupils slowly dilating into hearts. “doing such a great job warming and sucking daddy’s cock.”

he tugs you back by your hair, watching strings of spit drag across his shaft from your warming mouth. nanami gradually increases the pace of his fucking, his tug on your hair growing a bit stronger, hips moving harsher. your eyes shut tight to prepare yourself for a proper fucking, pacing yourself to acclimate to his well-earned blowjob after these training sessions. “daddy’ll make sure you feel so good after this, okay? just let me use my sweet baby’s throat right now, just for a bit.” he groans, shooting you a soft smile before you feel a harsh pump to the back of your throat — a short spurt of cum dribbling straight down your throat.

oh — you’re in for a long night.

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paarksunghoon · 3 months ago

Note

hooking up with best friend Jay at a sleepover 🤤

i love jay with the friends to lovers trope so much

***

The thing is, Jay’s always had a thing for you.

Sure, you were both ugly ducklings at the age of ten compared to now, but Jay has always harbored romantics feelings for you. The shy, timid girl he knew from childhood is confident in herself. He remembers when you were scared of the dark and he remembers when you broke up with your first boyfriend because he didn’t treat you right.

Oftentimes, Jay pushes his feelings for you well below the surface until he’s questioning whether he really liked you or not. When you dated Lee Heeseung for three months before you two mutually decided to part ways and remain friendly, Jay thought his feelings for you vanished for good. He and Heeseung got along so well that Jay wondered if he only felt that way towards you because everyone assumed he would end up with you.

Jay didn’t mind hearing about Heeseung that much. You didn’t talk about him around him that often. When you told him how Heeseung had bought tickets to your favorite band, Jay didn’t have it in him to diminish your happiness.

You let it slip once, while you were intoxicated, that Heeseung was the best fuck of your life thus far. Long cock, dirty mouth, and a wicked tongue. Jay tuned it out but what made him frustrated is beginning to picture what you’d look like underneath him and what you might sound like when you cum.

Even now, with you sitting next to him, does Jay wonder what you look like naked.

You’ve got a blanket wrapped around you as you sit on his couch and watch the movie you two agreed on. He can’t pay attention to it because of how good you smell and because he noticed your lap moving when the sex scene comes on.

From the corner of his eye, Jay watches the blanket shift. He sees you lick your lips and stare a little too intently at the screen before you. His heart hammers in his chest and he feels his dick start to swell when he imagines you clenching around it.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he says in lustful disbelief. “You wish that was you, huh?”

Your head snaps to him. “What?”

“I said, you wish that was you, huh?”

“No,” you say hastily, avoiding his eye.

“No?” Jay mocks. “You were grinding just now.”

“Why are you watching me and not the movie?”

“Because you look hot humping the air like that.”

You look at him and he swears your jaw would hang open like a cartoon if it could. He watches your lap twitch involuntarily and cocks his head to the side when you don’t say anything.

“I bet you’re wet too.” Jay shifts his body closer to hours.

“I’m not.” He doesn’t believe you.

“Is that right?” Jay puts his hands over the portion of the blank that’s covering your thighs. You gasp when he gives you a squeeze and sit with your breath caught in your throat. “Mind if I check?”

He nearly moans when you slowly nod. Your panties are wet to the touch like he thought. His fingers glide up and down your covered slit so easily that he swears he can hear it over the movie if he pays enough attention.

“Not wet, huh?” You shake your head. “You’re not horny?”

“N-No.”

Jay pushes your panties aside and sticks his finger inside of you. The sudden intrusion feels like a taste of Heaven with his warmth. Jay expertly pumps inside of you at a slow pace that has you clutching onto his arm for support.

“Oh, so you’re telling me your pussy’s not wet even though my hand is covered in you? C’mon, Y/N. You’re so horny you’d let your best friend finger your pussy.”

Jay adds another finger and speeds up his movements. The movie is long forgotten and his knuckles nudge your clit with every push and pull. You bite your lip to prevent loud moans from escaping you but he draws them out of your throat. Your body chases his hand, hips circling the air to gain more pleasure from his digits.

He’s never like this with you; Jay is the epitome of controlled and respectful. He walks with his body between you and the road and he opens doors for you. Jay is friendly with your parents and stays sober when you drink. He’s patient and calm in every way. Except right now.

Jay’s palm against your pussy feels incredible. Your legs are spread wide open with one on his lap and the other nearly off of the couch. He curls his digits and pulls a reckless moan out of you that makes him smirk and out his lips just by your ear.

“I wanna watch you cum.” Your eyes roll back into your head and your mouth hangs open because of how turned on you arm. You squeeze onto Jay’s arm and he laughs when you start to clench around him. “Thaaaat’s right. Clench against my fingers. Let me feel how tight your pussy is. God, she’s so wet.”

You’re sure your juices are splashing everywhere at the pace he’s hammering his fingers in and out of you. Jay curls them inside you one last time when you feel the dam break. He keeps his brutal pace to help you ride out your high. He doesn’t care that your nails are digging into his muscular arms. In fact, he wants to see the prints you leave him.

Your jaw hangs open when he sticks his fingers in your mouth to taste you. Jay doesn’t shy away from your eyes and instead pushes the blanket off of you until his fingers rub your folds again.

“I’m gonna fuck that little pussy of yours after I eat you out,” he says, rapidly pushing his hand back and forth over you.

Your meek ‘yes please’ is all he needs to hear. Jay pulls his fingers from your body and takes his hard cock out from his sweatpants. He stands over you and tugs on himself when he watches you toy with your clit.

“Hope you’re prepared to stay up all night, baby. I’ve gotta fuck you properly.”

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

#enhypen smut #enha smut #jay smut #enhypen x reader #jay x reader #enha hard thoughts #enhypen hard thoughts #enha hard hours #enhypen hard hours #enha x reader #kpop x reader #kpop smut #hard thought*#my writing*#jay

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kiwriteswords · 26 days ago

Note

could we get hotch flirting with shy reader but hotch is rusty and out of the dating scene for so long so ultimately doesn't come across as fliriting to reader, so he has to eventually be bold about it?

Sweet Beginnings

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: This sweetness got away from me!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Female Reader

Word Count: 16.6k

Tags/Warnings: Feminine Reader, Shy Reader, Soft and Romantic Smut, Mainly Fade to Black Smut, Romantic Hotch, Hotch in his Courting Masculine Energy, Non-BAU Reader, Bottle of Wine is Mentioned, Romance!! Fluff!!! Enamored Flirty Hotch!!

Sypnosis: Aaron Hotchner wasn’t one to indulge in leisurely distractions, but a small coffee shop called Sweet Beginnings—and its gentle, shy owner—quickly became a quiet escape from his chaotic life.

Aaron Hotchner had never been one to take advice on leisure activities—especially not from Penelope Garcia. But the way she raved about a little coffee and pastry shop downtown was difficult to ignore, even for someone as stoic as he was.

“It’s cozy, Hotch. The kind of place where you could breathe for a change,” she’d said with a bright smile. “And their pastries? To die for.”

He wasn’t someone particularly picky when it came to coffee or the sweet tooth he allowed himself to indulge in every now and then, but with Penelope Garcia’s dazzling review of this place, he figured he’d give it a try.

So, one Friday morning, after dropping Jack off at school, Aaron found himself standing in front of the quaint café. The sign above the door read Sweet Beginnings in elegant, hand-painted script. The soft glow from inside beckoned him in, along with the faint smell of coffee and freshly baked goods.

The bell above the door chimed softly as he stepped inside. The shop was warm, decorated with mismatched chairs and tables that gave it a homey feel. Aaron noted the shelves of books and plants along the walls the hum of soft music in the background. It was quiet but alive, much like the woman behind the counter.

You greeted him with a soft smile, barely meeting his eyes as you handed a cup of coffee to the customer ahead of him. Aaron noticed the delicate way you moved, the way your hands wrapped around the mug to steady it as you passed it over. When it was his turn, you offered him the same gentle smile, your voice barely above a murmur.

“Good morning. What can I get for you?”

Aaron had prepared to order the first thing on the menu, but something about you—your calm demeanor, the way your shyness didn’t feel like a wall but an invitation to be gentle—made him pause.

“What do you recommend?” he asked, his tone softer than usual.

You hesitated for a moment as though surprised he’d asked for your opinion. “Um, the vanilla latte is popular… and the lemon scones are fresh today.”

“Then I’ll have those,” Aaron replied, watching the way your face lit up just slightly, like you were proud of your recommendation but too modest to show it outright.

He didn’t expect to find himself at Sweet Beginnings again so soon, but the following Monday, Aaron walked in and ordered the same thing. Over time, his visits became routine—part of the rhythm of his mornings when he wasn’t rushing to a case.

Aaron learned small things about you through your brief conversations. You’d opened the shop a couple of years ago, pouring your heart into creating a space that felt warm and safe. You loved reading, often leaving books on the counter to mark your place. You had a quick wit, though you always seemed surprised when someone caught onto it. And you were so gentle, in a way that Aaron found himself appreciating more and more.

He’d never thought of himself as someone easily captivated, but there was something about you that lingered with him long after he left the shop. The soft way you said his name when you finally learned it, the way your shyness made you blush when he asked about your favorite book—it all stayed with him.

Aaron Hotchner had always been a man of precision. In the field, his words were measured, deliberate, carefully chosen to achieve the best outcome. Flirting, he realized, was a wholly different matter. It wasn’t long before he found himself trying, though, with you—if it could even be called flirting.

At first, it was subtle—so subtle he wondered if it even registered. The first time, he complimented your coffee.

“You’re making it hard to go anywhere else for coffee,” he said one morning, his tone uncharacteristically light. He stood at the counter, his jacket slung over his arm, his tie slightly loosened from the morning rush.

You blinked at him, clearly startled, and Aaron couldn’t help but notice the faint blush creeping up your cheeks. “Oh… thank you. I’m glad you like it,” you murmured, your voice soft.

Aaron thought he saw something flicker in your expression—a glimmer of flattered surprise, maybe—but it was gone in an instant. You handed him his cup, offering him the same gentle smile you gave every customer, and he realized you either hadn’t caught on or didn’t think much of it.

But he wasn’t one to give up easily.

A few days later, Aaron leaned casually against the counter, watching as you expertly filled a tray of pastries to restock the display. His gaze softened as he noticed the delicate precision in your movements, the way your hands handled each scone with care. When you finally turned to him, you offered your usual quiet smile, your voice tinged with curiosity.

“Same order as always?” you asked.

Aaron nodded but added, “Do you have any secrets to these scones, or are you just naturally this talented?”

You tilted your head at him, confused at first. Then your lips curled into a shy, almost bashful smile. “It’s the recipe,” you said, your tone light but modest. “I just follow it.”

He couldn’t help the faint chuckle that escaped him. “Somehow, I don’t believe that. There’s a level of care here you don’t find in most places.”

Again, your cheeks flushed, and you looked down, as if unsure how to respond. Aaron took his coffee with a quiet thanks and left, wondering if he’d ever get more than your polite deflections.

One morning, as you handed him his cup, Aaron noticed something different. Written on the sleeve was a simple, hand-drawn smiley face alongside the words, Have a great day! It wasn’t much, but it was enough to tug at something deep in his chest.

He looked up, catching your eyes. “A smiley face?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. His lips quirked into a subtle smile.

You froze for a moment, caught off guard. “Oh, um… I’ve been doing little notes for regulars,” you said quickly, your words slightly rushed. “I thought it might brighten someone’s day.”

“It does,” Aaron said warmly. “Thank you.”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip in a way that made his chest tighten. He thought he saw your shoulders relax slightly, but you quickly busied yourself with the next customer, leaving him to wonder if he was imagining things.

Over time, Aaron became bolder—or at least, as bold as he could manage within the confines of a café conversation. He tried humor one day, when you handed him a blueberry muffin instead of his usual lemon scone.

“A deviation from the usual?” he asked, lifting the bag and raising an eyebrow. “Should I be concerned?”

Your lips parted slightly, and for a moment, you looked panicked. “Oh! I’m sorry, I—”

“I’m joking,” Aaron said quickly, his voice warm. “I trust your judgment.”

You let out a quiet laugh, the sound soft but genuine. “I just thought you might like to try something different,” you admitted, your fingers brushing nervously against the counter.

He smiled, noticing how your shyness made you fidget. “Then I’m sure I will,” he replied. “Thank you.”

The more he tried, the more he realized you weren’t picking up on his intentions. Or maybe you were, and you didn’t believe them. Either way, Aaron found himself at an impasse.

It was a rare moment of stillness in the bullpen, the team gathering themselves after wrapping up a grueling case. Aaron Hotchner sat at his desk, papers in front of him, though his focus had shifted to the cup of coffee in his hand. The familiar, comforting aroma wafted up as he took a sip.

“Alright, Aaron,” Rossi’s voice cut through the quiet, drawing Aaron’s gaze upward. The older man leaned casually against the doorframe to his office, arms crossed and a sly smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve been walking in here every morning with that same cup. It’s not just coffee, is it?”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, come on,” Rossi chuckled, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him. “You’re not the type to spend almost ten bucks on a latte every day just for the caffeine. You’re going to that little shop downtown, aren’t you? Sweet Beginnings, or whatever it’s called?”

Aaron leaned back slightly in his chair, crossing his arms. “What makes you say that?”

“Because you’ve never been a hipster coffee shop kind of guy,” Rossi said matter-of-factly, gesturing toward the cup. “So unless they’re serving something laced with gold, I’m guessing it’s not about the coffee. Am I right?”

Hotch let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. “You have too much time on your hands.”

Rossi grinned, pulling up a chair. “You’re deflecting. So, who is she?”

“Who says it’s about anyone?” Aaron countered, though his slight shift in posture betrayed him.

“Because I know you,” Rossi said, leaning forward. “And I know that look. You’ve got someone on your mind, and I’d bet a week’s salary it’s not the barista’s latte art skills.”

Aaron let the silence linger for a moment before finally relenting. “She’s the owner,” he admitted, his voice low. “She’s... shy, gentle. There’s something about her I can’t quite put into words.”

Rossi nodded knowingly. “Ah, and let me guess—you’ve been trying to make a move, but she’s not picking up on it?”

Aaron hesitated, then nodded. “I’ve tried to show interest. Compliments, humor, the usual... but either she doesn’t notice, or she’s just not interested.”

“Well, have you considered that she might just be too shy to believe you’re serious?” Rossi asked, leaning back in his chair. “If she’s as gentle as you say, she probably doesn’t think a guy like you would be interested in her.”

Aaron frowned slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Hotch. You’re smart, successful, and intimidating as hell when you want to be. A lot of women would think twice before assuming you’re flirting, especially someone shy,” Rossi explained with a knowing look. “You might need to be a little more... direct.”

Aaron arched an eyebrow. “Direct?”

“Yeah,” Rossi said, leaning forward. “Tell her how you feel. No games, no subtle hints. Women like her appreciate honesty. She’s probably too busy overthinking to pick up on your breadcrumbs.”

Aaron considered this, his gaze dropping to the cup in his hand. He’d been dancing around the idea for weeks now, unsure if it was the right move. But Rossi’s words carried weight—as they always did.

“And what if she’s not interested?” Aaron asked after a moment.

“Then you’ll know,” Rossi said simply. “But from the way you’re talking about her, I’d say it’s worth finding out.”

Hotch nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Thanks, Dave.”

Rossi stood, patting him on the shoulder as he headed for the door. “Just don’t wait too long. Life’s short, my friend. And good coffee? Even shorter.”

Aaron Hotchner stood outside Sweet Beginnings, the cool morning air brushing against his face as he gathered his thoughts. The warm light spilling out of the café windows contrasted with the nervous energy he felt—a rare sensation for someone so used to control. Rossi’s words echoed in his mind: “Tell her how you feel. No games, no subtle hints.”

He stepped inside, the bell above the door chiming softly. It was quieter than usual, with only one other patron seated by the window. You were behind the counter, carefully arranging a fresh tray of pastries on display. The sight of you—focused, gentle in your movements—was enough to ground him, if only slightly.

You looked up at the sound of the bell, offering your usual shy smile when you saw him. “Good morning,” you said softly. “The usual?”

Hotch approached the counter, his expression softer than usual. “Not just yet,” he said, his voice steady. “I was hoping to talk to you for a moment first.”

You blinked, surprised, and set down the tray you’d been holding. “Oh… sure,” you murmured, folding your hands nervously in front of you. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Aaron said quickly, shaking his head. “I just wanted to say something that I think I haven’t been clear about.”

You tilted your head slightly, your curiosity evident despite your shyness. Aaron took a breath, his hands resting lightly on the counter.

“I’ve been coming here for a while now,” he began, his voice calm but sincere. “And while I do enjoy the coffee—and the pastries—what really keeps me coming back is you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and he saw the way your fingers fidgeted with the edge of your apron. “M-Me?” you stammered, clearly caught off guard.

“Yes, you,” Aaron said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re kind, thoughtful, and there’s a warmth about you that I’ve found myself looking forward to more than I expected. I realize I might not have made that clear before, and I didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding.”

Your blush deepened, and for a moment, you looked like you weren’t sure what to say. “I… I thought you were just being nice,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I never thought…”

Aaron’s smile grew slightly. “I wasn’t just being nice,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “I’m interested, and if you’d like, I’d love to take you out to dinner. No coffee shop counters between us, just… us.”

You blinked up at him, your shyness warring with a hesitant excitement. “I… I’d like that,” you finally said, your voice trembling slightly but full of sincerity. “I’d really like that.”

For the first time in what felt like ages, Aaron felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He nodded, his smile softening. “Good. How about tomorrow night?”

“That sounds perfect,” you said, your lips curving into a shy but genuine smile.

Of course, Aaron had the perfect place in mind. He shared that with you, and you both found a time that worked. He would do whatever it took to be here to pick you up for the date.

As Aaron left the shop that morning, he felt a rare sense of anticipation blooming in his chest. Rossi was right—honesty had been the answer. And for the first time in years, he found himself looking forward to something beyond the next case.

Aaron Hotchner stood on the sidewalk in front of Sweet Beginnings, smoothing his tie as he glanced up at the windows above the shop. The lights in one of them were on—a warm, inviting glow spilling out onto the darkening street. It was where you lived, just above the place you’d built from scratch.

He took a steadying breath and checked his watch. It was still a few minutes before the time you’d agreed on, but he couldn’t resist being early. There was a quiet kind of excitement in him, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in years.

The door to the shop opened, and there you were. For a moment, Aaron froze.

You were stunning. The soft glow from the shop lights illuminated you as you stepped onto the sidewalk, your dress simple but elegant, perfectly complementing your natural beauty. Your hair fell just right, framing your face in a way that made his heart skip. He’d always thought there was something enchanting about you—your gentle demeanor, your shy smile—but seeing you like this, he was utterly captivated.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice almost tentative as you met his eyes.

Aaron blinked, recovering quickly, though his usual composure felt shaken. “Hi,” he replied, his tone warmer than usual. “You look… beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you glanced down, your fingers brushing against the strap of your small purse. “Thank you,” you murmured. “You look really nice too.”

Aaron smiled, his chest tightening slightly at your shy response. He stepped forward, offering his arm. “Shall we?”

You nodded, slipping your hand lightly into the crook of his arm. As he led you toward his car, he couldn’t help but glance at you again. You had an air of grace about you, soft and unassuming, yet it commanded his full attention.

The restaurant he’d chosen was quiet and intimate, a small Italian place tucked away in a corner of the city. Candles flickered on the tables, casting a warm glow over the room. Aaron pulled out your chair for you before sitting across from you, marveling at how effortlessly you seemed to fit into the moment despite your shy nature.

His attention was entirely on you—the way you fidgeted lightly with the edge of your napkin, the faint blush on your cheeks every time his eyes lingered a moment too long.

“So,” he began, leaning slightly forward, his voice soft but steady, “what made you want to open a coffee shop?”

You looked down at your hands, hesitating for a moment before meeting his gaze. “I always loved baking,” you said, your voice quiet but laced with sincerity. “It’s… comforting. My grandmother used to bake with me when I was little. She’d always say there was nothing a warm pastry and a cup of coffee couldn’t fix.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a small smile. “Wise advice.”

You nodded, a shy smile playing on your lips. “When she passed, I just… I wanted to create a place that felt like her kitchen. A place where people could feel safe and welcome.”

“That’s exactly what you’ve done,” Aaron said, his tone warm. “Your shop has that kind of atmosphere. It’s different from anywhere else.”

Your blush deepened, and you ducked your head slightly. “Thank you,” you murmured, barely above a whisper. “I’m glad it comes across that way.”

Aaron couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. He was quickly learning how much he enjoyed making you blush—how your shy responses revealed so much about the gentle person you were.

“What about you?” you asked suddenly, your voice a little hesitant. “What… what made you want to join the FBI?”

Aaron paused, his expression softening as he considered the question. “I’ve always wanted to help people,” he said after a moment. He briefly went on to share about following in his father’s footsteps but creating his own path along the way. The way you allowed a platform for him to share so easily, the words and his own story coming out of his mouth without second thought. Something normally so foreign to him.

You nodded, your eyes thoughtful. “It must be hard, though… seeing everything you see.”

“It is,” Aaron admitted, his gaze steady. “But it’s worth it. And moments like this… they remind me there’s still good in the world.”

Your cheeks flushed again, and you looked down, unable to hold his gaze. “I don’t know if I’m really… good,” you said softly, almost to yourself.

Aaron leaned forward slightly, his voice firm but gentle. “You are. You have a way of making people feel seen, even in small ways. That’s a rare gift.”

You looked up at him, your lips parting slightly in surprise. “I… I’ve never thought of it that way,” you admitted, your blush deepening.

“Maybe you should,” Aaron replied with a faint smile.

Later in the evening, as the waiter cleared your plates, Aaron took a sip of his wine, watching the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Do you always blush this much?” he teased lightly, his tone warm and playful.

Your eyes widened, and you immediately looked down, your fingers brushing nervously against the tablecloth. “I—I can’t help it,” you stammered, your voice barely audible.

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and soothing. “I think it’s charming,” he said, leaning back slightly. “Though I’ll admit, I might be trying to make it happen more often.”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with a mix of surprise and bashfulness. “That’s not fair,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips despite your obvious embarrassment.

Aaron’s smile widened. “Life’s not always fair,” he said, his voice teasing. “But I’d say this moment is one of the better ones.”

You laughed quietly; the sound light and genuine, and Aaron felt a warmth spread through his chest. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed moments like this—a simple, honest connection.

By the time the evening wound down and Aaron walked you back to your apartment, he felt an overwhelming sense of calm. Standing at your door, he couldn’t resist one last attempt to see that beautiful blush of yours.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he told you, his voice low and sincere. “You’re incredible. I feel… lucky to have spent tonight with you.”

Your cheeks flushed a deep pink, and you smiled shyly, looking down at your hands. “I feel lucky too,” you said softly.

Aaron chuckled lightly, his heart swelling at your words. “Goodnight,” he said gently, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer.

“Goodnight,” you replied, your voice as soft as the warm light spilling from your doorway.

As he walked back to his car, Aaron felt something rare and undeniable. For the first time in years, he felt like he was stepping into something real, something special. And he couldn’t wait to see where it might lead.

The next morning at Sweet Beginnings began like any other for you. The familiar rhythm of grinding coffee beans, the hum of the espresso machine, and the gentle murmur of early-morning customers filled the space. But today, there was something unexpected—a delivery that arrived just before the rush.

The bouquet was stunning. Soft pink peonies, delicate white roses, and sprigs of lavender were arranged with care, their sweet fragrance filling the air as you stared at them in disbelief. Tucked among the blooms was a small card, the handwriting neat and precise.

Thank you for a wonderful evening. Looking forward to seeing you again soon. - Aaron

Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you found yourself pressing the card to your chest as if the gesture could steady your racing heart. Flowers. For you. You couldn’t remember the last time anyone had sent you flowers, much less something so thoughtful and beautiful.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. You tried to focus on your work, but every time you glanced at the bouquet—now proudly displayed on the counter—you couldn’t help but blush.

When Aaron walked in later that morning, his usual confident stride was accompanied by a small flicker of uncertainty. He spotted the flowers immediately, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he approached the counter.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice warm.

You turned toward him, your eyes lighting up as you smiled shyly. “Good morning,” you replied softly. “Thank you… for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

Aaron’s smile widened, and he leaned slightly against the counter. “I’m glad you like them,” he said. “I thought you deserved something as lovely as you are.”

Your cheeks flushed a deep pink, and you looked down, fiddling nervously with the edge of your apron. “I don’t… I mean, you didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” Aaron interrupted gently, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Last night reminded me of something I haven’t felt in a long time. Romance should be… intentional. Thoughtful. And you inspire me to want to do that.”

You glanced up at him, your wide eyes filled with something between surprise and bashful gratitude. “I don’t even know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Aaron replied, his gaze steady and sincere. “Just let me keep doing this—showing you how much I enjoy being with you.”

For a moment, you simply stared at him, the sincerity in his expression rendering you speechless. Finally, you nodded, a soft smile spreading across your face. “Okay,” you whispered.

Aaron’s lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. He could feel the warmth in his chest spreading as he reached for his usual order. But today, when you handed him his coffee, your hands lingered just a moment longer than usual.

“Thank you,” you said again, your voice gentle but filled with meaning.

As Aaron left the shop, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. You’d awakened something in him—a desire to court you properly, to show you just how much you meant to him. And he couldn’t wait to see where this journey would lead.

The BAU jet cruised quietly through the night sky, the hum of the engines a familiar backdrop to the subdued conversations and occasional shuffling of papers. Aaron Hotchner sat at the small table, ostensibly reviewing case files, but his mind was elsewhere. The faint glow of his phone screen on the table seemed to taunt him as he thought about you.

The first date had gone so well—better than he had expected, even. You had been soft-spoken but so genuine, your sweetness and warmth drawing him in like a balm to the chaos he so often faced. He wanted to see you again, to plan the next date, but the timing of this case had whisked him away before he could make it happen.

“Hotch, you good?” JJ’s voice broke through his thoughts, her tone light but laced with curiosity.

He glanced up, meeting her knowing smile with a faint raise of his brow. “I’m fine,” he replied evenly, though he could tell she wasn’t convinced.

“Uh-huh,” Rossi chimed in from across the aisle, his smirk already in place. “Fine enough to be lost in thought for the last hour? Let me guess, you’re not still running through case details.”

Aaron exhaled through his nose, not irritated but resigned. “Rossi, I don’t—”

“Let me guess,” Rossi interrupted with a teasing grin. “It’s got something to do with Sweet Beginnings and a certain someone who runs it.”

JJ’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, her curiosity piqued. “Wait, the coffee shop? The one with the owner Penelope’s been raving about?”

At the sound of her name, Penelope’s voice crackled through the laptop perched nearby, her face appearing on the video call. “Are we talking about her? Hotch, please tell me we’re talking about her.”

Aaron leaned back in his seat, clearly outnumbered, though a faint smile betrayed his amusement. “Yes, we went on a date,” he admitted, his voice calm but tinged with warmth.

The reaction was immediate. Penelope squealed so loudly that Spencer visibly flinched, while Rossi chuckled, clearly enjoying Aaron’s discomfort. JJ, however, leaned in slightly, her expression soft and encouraging.

“And?” JJ prompted gently.

“And it was… wonderful,” Aaron admitted after a pause. “But we didn’t make plans for a second date before I left for this case. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”

“That’s an easy fix,” Rossi said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Shoot her a message. Let her know you’re thinking about her and that you want to see her again. Simple.”

“Penelope?” JJ interjected, turning to the laptop.

“Oh, he doesn’t need my help,” Penelope said, waving her hand dramatically. “Hotch has his own kind of charm—direct and a little broody, but it works. Just don’t overthink it, sir. She’ll swoon no matter what.”

Aaron shook his head with a faint chuckle, pulling his phone closer. He didn’t need much convincing. The thought of reaching out to you felt natural, not something to agonize over.

As the team’s chatter faded into the background, Aaron composed the message, keeping it simple but meaningful:

Hi. I’ve been thinking about you and how much I enjoyed our evening together. When I’m back, I’d love to take you out again—if you’re free, of course.

After rereading it once, he hit send, the faint hum of anticipation settling in his chest. He placed the phone face down on the table, not wanting to watch it, but his thoughts were already with you.

“Done?” Rossi asked, smirking as Aaron met his gaze.

“Done,” Aaron replied with a faint nod.

JJ smiled, nudging Rossi with her elbow. “Told you he didn’t need our help.”

Penelope’s delighted laugh echoed through the call. “Oh, he’s got this, JJ. We just like to cheer him on!”

Aaron rolled his eyes fondly, shaking his head. Despite the teasing, he appreciated their support. For the first time in years, the prospect of romance felt like more than just an indulgence—it felt like something real, something worth pursuing. And he couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

Aaron Hotchner spent the day chasing leads, directing the team, and piecing together profiles—but now, with the case temporarily at a lull, his thoughts had inevitably drifted back to you.

The gentle buzz of his phone pulled his attention, and he felt an inexplicable flicker of anticipation. Picking it up, he saw your name at the top of the screen, along with your response:

Hi, Aaron. I’ve been thinking about you too. I’d love to go on another date when you’re back. Just let me know when, and I’ll make sure I’m free.

Aaron exhaled slowly, his chest tightening with something unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Relief? Gratitude? No—something softer. Something that warmed him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

He read the message again, letting the simplicity of your words settle over him. You’d been thinking about him. It was such a small thing, but it held so much weight. He could picture you shyly typing the message, your soft smile as you hesitated over every word. The thought brought a rare, genuine smile to his face.

He began typing his reply:

That’s perfect. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m back. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.

He paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. It wasn’t enough—not for what he wanted to convey. He deleted the last sentence and replaced it with:

That’s perfect. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m back. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.

It was bold, direct—words he wouldn’t normally allow himself to say. But you weren’t like anyone else. You brought out a softness in him, a desire to be open, to let you see the man behind the stoic facade.

After hitting send, Aaron set the phone down and leaned back in his chair. The faint hum of the air conditioner in the hotel room filled the silence, but his mind was anything but quiet. He thought of your gentle smile, the way your blush deepened when he complimented you, the quiet humility in everything you did. It was a stark contrast to the chaos and intensity of his world, and yet, it felt like exactly what he needed.

A moment later, his phone buzzed again. He reached for it, his heart inexplicably light as he read your reply:

I’ve been thinking about you too. I’ve never met anyone like you, Aaron. Take your time with the case—I’ll be here when you get back.

Aaron let out a quiet breath, his lips curving into another faint smile. He allowed himself a moment to simply sit there, phone in hand, savoring the thought of you waiting for him. It was a rare feeling for him—a sense of connection, of something good waiting for him beyond the cases, the paperwork, the endless responsibilities.

He typed one final response:

Thank you. That means more to me than you know. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m back. Sleep well, and take care.

After hitting send, Aaron placed his phone on the nightstand and leaned back into the chair, closing his eyes for a moment. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been carrying until now, when the thought of you seemed to lighten the weight. For the first time in years, he felt something entirely his own to look forward to. Something real. Something good.

Aaron Hotchner stood outside your coffee shop, his hand brushing the small bouquet of flowers he’d picked up on the way over. They weren’t as grand as the first ones he’d sent you—just a handful of simple daisies and lavender tied with a ribbon—but they felt right. Thoughtful, unassuming, like you.

He exhaled a slow breath, running his fingers through his hair before stepping inside. The soft chime of the bell announced his arrival, and his gaze immediately found you behind the counter.

You looked up at the sound, your eyes lighting up when they met his. A warm, shy smile spread across your face, and Aaron felt that familiar tightening in his chest, the one that had been there since your first date.

“Aaron,” you greeted softly, wiping your hands on your apron before stepping closer. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, his voice softening in a way it rarely did. He extended the flowers toward you, his lips curving into a faint smile. “For you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and a faint blush crept up your cheeks as you took the bouquet. “They’re beautiful,” you murmured, your fingers brushing over the petals. “Thank you.”

Aaron watched as you carefully set the flowers in a vase behind the counter, your touch so gentle it almost made him smile again. He’d spent years in a world where gentleness felt like a luxury, and yet, with you, it seemed so effortless.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice steady but warm.

You nodded, untying your apron and grabbing your bag. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” Aaron said, his tone light but firm, and he was rewarded with the smallest laugh from you as you followed him out the door.

The evening unfolded like something out of a dream. Aaron had chosen a quiet spot just outside the city—a garden restaurant with fairy lights strung across trellises and the soft sound of live acoustic music in the background. He led you to a secluded table near the fountain, the glow of the lights reflecting in your wide, curious eyes.

“This is… beautiful,” you said softly, your gaze sweeping over the setting before landing back on him. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to,” Aaron replied simply, his gaze steady on yours.

Throughout the meal, the conversation flowed easily. You talked about your day, about the customers at the coffee shop, and how you’d been experimenting with new pastry recipes. Aaron listened intently, his expression softening as he watched you.

“And what about you?” you asked at one point, tilting your head slightly. “How was the case?”

“It went well,” Aaron said, his tone measured. “But it’s nice to be back. To be here with you.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked down at your plate, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re really good at making me blush,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “I’ve noticed,” he said, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “I think I enjoy it.”

You laughed lightly, the sound like music to his ears, and for a moment, he reveled in how at ease you made him feel.

Aaron walked you to your apartment door, the soft glow of the streetlights casting a warm hue over the quiet street. The evening had been perfect—dinner, conversation, and the kind of connection he hadn’t felt in years. Now, standing outside your door, he found himself reluctant to let the night end.

You turned to face him; your bag clutched lightly in one hand as you offered him a shy smile. “I really had a wonderful time tonight,” you said softly, your voice carrying the same gentle warmth that had captivated him since the moment he met you.

“So did I,” Aaron replied, his voice low but steady. He took a small step closer, his hands tucked into his coat pockets as his gaze softened. “Thank you for letting me take you out again.”

Your blush deepened, and you glanced down for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I… I really like spending time with you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hope you know that.”

Aaron’s chest tightened at your words, and for a moment, all he could do was take in the sight of you—the way the faint pink in your cheeks mirrored the soft glow of the lights, the way your fingers fidgeted nervously with the strap of your bag.

“I do,” he said softly, his voice holding an honesty that surprised even himself. “And I feel the same way.”

Your lips parted slightly, as if you wanted to say something else, but no words came. Instead, your gaze flickered to his lips for the briefest of moments before darting away, your shyness making you retreat a half-step.

Aaron caught the hesitation and knew he had to be the one to bridge the gap. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned closer, his movements careful and measured, giving you every chance to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t.

Your breath hitched as the space between you closed, and then his lips met yours—soft, warm, and full of unspoken promises.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, as if he were afraid to shatter the quiet intimacy of the moment. But when he felt you lean into him, your fingers brushing lightly against his coat sleeve, he allowed himself to deepen it just slightly, his hand coming up to rest lightly on your cheek.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a moment, his thumb brushing softly along your jawline. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion.

“For what?” you asked softly, your voice still trembling slightly from the kiss.

“For trusting me,” Aaron replied, his gaze meeting yours. “And for letting me be here with you.”

Your shy smile returned, and you shook your head lightly. “I should be thanking you,” you whispered.

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile, and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before stepping back, his hand lingering on yours for just a moment longer. “Goodnight,” he said, his voice warm but steady.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” you replied, your cheeks still flushed as you opened the door and disappeared inside.

Aaron stood there for a moment, the faint hint of your perfume lingering in the air. As he turned to walk back to his car, a rare sense of contentment settled over him. The kiss had been more than just a moment—it was a beginning. And he couldn’t wait to see where it would take them.

Aaron sat in his office late into the evening, the dim light casting long shadows across the walls. His tie was loosened, his jacket draped over the back of his chair. The day’s paperwork sat in a neat stack on his desk, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

He thought about you—the shy way you smiled, the soft cadence of your voice, the way you seemed to bring warmth and light into even the simplest moments. There was something about your gentle, sweet demeanor that drew him in, and made him want to do more, be more.

Aaron had always been a man of action, of logic and order. But with you, he found himself wanting to lean into something softer, something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years: the romance of it all. Your femininity—delicate but unshakable—called to a side of him he hadn’t tapped into in a long time, the part that wanted to court you properly, to show you how deeply he cared.

Closing the last file of the night, Aaron leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at his lips as an idea began to take shape. He wanted to do something special for you—something that would make you feel cherished. Not because you needed grand gestures but because you deserved to be celebrated.

He stood in the quiet bookstore, the scent of paper and leather-bound spines enveloping him as he carefully ran his fingers over the titles lining the shelves. He’d spent the day thinking about you—about the way your shy smile had lingered in his mind, about how you seemed to carry a quiet strength wrapped in gentleness. He wanted to give you something that reflected that—something meaningful, but not overwhelming.

As his fingers brushed over the spine of a beautiful, hardcover edition of one of his favorite novels, he paused. The cover was embossed with intricate details, and the pages were gilded with gold edges. He smiled to himself, knowing it was perfect. The book was a classic, timeless and heartfelt, just like you.

Later that evening, as you were tidying up Sweet Beginnings, the familiar chime of the bell startled you. You looked up to see Aaron stepping inside, his tall frame silhouetted by the glow of the streetlights behind him.

“Aaron,” you greeted, your voice soft but surprised. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he approached the counter. In his hands was a small, wrapped package.

Your eyes flicked to the gift, curiosity sparkling in your expression. “What’s this?”

Aaron placed it gently on the counter, his gaze steady but warm. “It’s for you,” he said simply. “Something I thought you might like.”

You blinked, your cheeks tinged with a faint blush as you reached for the package. Carefully unwrapping it, you gasped softly when the book came into view.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the gold edges of the pages. “Aaron, you didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he interrupted gently, his voice firm but kind. “It reminded me of you. Thoughtful, timeless, and more meaningful than you probably realize.”

Your blush deepened, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words. Finally, you looked up at him, your shy smile softening your features. “Thank you,” you said, your voice filled with sincerity. “This is… perfect.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile, his chest tightening at the sight of your happiness. “I know how much you love your coffee shop and the comfort it brings people,” he said, his voice low. “This felt like something you could enjoy during those rare quiet moments.”

Your fingers clutched the book a little tighter, and you looked at him with wide eyes. “You’re… incredibly thoughtful,” you murmured, your voice almost trembling.

Aaron stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “And you make it easy to be,” he said softly.

The two of you stood there for a moment, the quiet intimacy of the shop wrapping around you both like a warm blanket.

“I’ll let you get back to closing up,” Aaron said after a moment, his voice gentle. “But… maybe we could plan that third date soon?”

Your shy smile widened, and you nodded, the book still cradled in your hands. “I’d love that.”

Aaron left the shop that night feeling lighter than he had in years. You inspired something in him—something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in so long. And with every step forward, he found himself wanting to match your sweetness with a depth of care and romance that felt entirely natural, entirely right.

Aaron Hotchner turned to leave, but before he could take a step toward the door, your voice stopped him.

“Wait,” you said softly, almost hesitant.

He turned back, his eyes meeting yours, the shy smile still on your lips but now tinged with something he couldn’t quite place.

“I was just about to have a little treat before I finished up here,” you said, your voice gentle. “I was going to eat it alone, but… would you like to stay and share it with me?”

Aaron’s lips quirked into a faint smile, and he took a step closer, his eyes warm. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, your blush deepening slightly as you glanced down at the book still in your hands. “I think it’d be nice,” you murmured.

He hesitated only for a moment before pulling off his coat and draping it over the back of a nearby chair. “Then I’d love to stay.”

You disappeared into the back of the shop for a moment, leaving Aaron to settle into a chair by the counter. When you returned, you carried a small plate with two slices of pie, the golden crust gleaming under the soft light.

“It’s just apple pie,” you said, setting the plate down between you. “Nothing fancy, but it’s one of my favorites.”

Aaron picked up the fork you handed him, his gaze lingering on you as you slid into the seat across from him. “Apple pie happens to be one of my favorites, too,” he said, his tone light but warm.

You smiled, your blush deepening as you took a small bite. “Then I guess it’s perfect.”

As the two of you ate, the conversation flowed easily, though Aaron couldn’t help but watch the way you moved—so soft, so unassuming. He found himself leaning into the moment, his tone growing warmer, more teasing.

“You’re a hard person to say no to,” he said at one point, his gaze steady on yours.

You paused mid-bite, your eyes widening slightly as you glanced up at him. “What do you mean?”

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile. “The way you asked me to stay just now. I don’t think I’ve ever been invited to something so… sweet. How could I say no to that?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked down at your plate, fiddling with your fork. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot,” you murmured.

“You didn’t,” Aaron assured you, his voice low but firm. “In fact, I’m glad you did. Spending time with you—it’s the best part of my day.”

You froze for a moment, your fork clattering lightly against the plate as you looked up at him, your wide eyes shimmering with emotion. “You… really mean that?”

Aaron leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I do,” he said softly. “You’re… remarkable. And I don’t just mean because of how kind and thoughtful you are. It’s not something I’ve experienced in a long time.”

Your breath hitched, and your cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink. “I don’t even know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Aaron replied, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “But I hope you know how much I enjoy being here with you.”

The two of you sat there for a moment, the quiet intimacy of the shop wrapping around you both. Aaron could see the way your blush deepened, how your fingers nervously brushed against the edge of the table. It was endearing, and he found himself wanting to put you at ease in the only way he knew how.

“By the way,” he said, his tone turning playful, “if this is how you usually spend your evenings, I might have to make a habit of stopping by after hours.”

You laughed softly; the sound light and genuine, and Aaron felt a rare warmth spread through his chest. “I wouldn’t mind that,” you said shyly, your eyes meeting his again.

Aaron’s smile widened, and as he took another bite of pie, he realized that this moment—simple, unassuming, and shared with you—was everything he’d been looking for without even knowing it. For the first time in years, he felt completely at ease, entirely himself. And he couldn’t wait to see where this quiet, growing connection would take them.

Aaron took his last bite of pie, savoring the sweetness, but his attention was fully on you—the way your smile lingered, your cheeks still faintly flushed from his earlier words. You glanced at him shyly, your fork toying with the crumbs on your plate.

“I think you might be dangerous,” Aaron said suddenly, his voice low and teasing.

You looked up at him, startled. “Dangerous?”

He leaned back in his chair, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yes. You’ve got me sitting here in a coffee shop at the end of a long day, forgetting entirely about the rest of the world.” His dark eyes softened as they lingered on yours. “I think I could get used to this.”

Your blush deepened, and you bit your bottom lip, unsure how to respond. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not,” you said softly, your voice tinged with a nervous laugh.

Aaron leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he lowered his voice. “It’s a very good thing. You make everything feel… easier. Brighter.”

You blinked, your gaze dropping to your hands. “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before,” you admitted, your tone almost too soft to hear.

“Well, someone should have,” Aaron said gently. His voice was steady, but there was an intensity in his gaze that made you look up again. “Because it’s true. And you deserve to hear it.”

The quiet weight of his words settled between you, and for a moment, the air seemed charged with something unspoken. You fidgeted slightly, your fingers brushing the edge of the plate before you finally gathered the courage to speak.

“You’re… different than I thought you’d be,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “You’re so serious at first, but then… you say things like that, and I don’t know what to do.”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “I’m still serious,” he said, leaning a little closer, his eyes crinkling with a rare smile. “But you make it hard to keep my guard up.”

Your breath hitched, and you felt the heat rising to your cheeks again. “I… don’t know what to say to that,” you whispered.

“Then don’t say anything,” Aaron replied softly. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his expression shifting slightly—something warmer, more vulnerable. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll keep saying these things. Because I want you to know how I feel.”

You blinked at him, your heart racing at his words. “Aaron, I—”

Before you could finish, the sharp chime of your shop’s clock broke the moment, announcing the late hour. You glanced at it, startled. “Oh, it’s so late… I didn’t even realize.”

Aaron smiled, standing and grabbing his coat. “It is late,” he agreed, his tone still warm. “I should let you finish closing up.”

You stood as well, walking him toward the door, your hands twisting nervously in front of you.

Aaron paused at the door of the shop, his coat draped over his arm, his hand lingering on the handle. He didn’t want to leave—not yet. Not when the air between you felt so charged, so full of something unspoken.

“Thank you again,” you said softly, your fingers brushing the edges of your sleeves as if to steady yourself.

Aaron turned back to face you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “You don’t have to keep thanking me,” he said gently, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I’m the one who should be thanking you—for tonight, for letting me see this side of you.”

Your cheeks flushed, but instead of looking away as you usually did, you stepped a little closer. There was a flicker of resolve in your gaze, something shy but daring, and it caught Aaron off guard.

“Aaron,” you began, your voice soft but steady. “I’ve been thinking about this all night—about you.”

His breath hitched slightly, his posture straightening as he watched you, waiting.

“You’re kind and thoughtful and… everything I didn’t think someone like you would be,” you continued, your blush deepening. “And it’s making it really hard to not want to kiss you right now.”

Aaron blinked, stunned for a moment by your boldness. His lips parted slightly, and then a warm, genuine smile spread across his face—a rarity for him, but one that felt entirely natural in this moment.

“Then don’t stop yourself,” he said softly, his voice low and inviting.

Your breath caught, but before your nerves could take over, Aaron closed the space between you, his hand brushing gently against your cheek as he leaned in. The kiss was soft at first, tentative—like he was memorizing every small detail. But when he felt you relax into him, your hands lightly gripping the front of his shirt, he let himself deepen it just slightly, his other hand settling lightly on your waist.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, his dark eyes searching yours. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that tonight,” he murmured, his voice rough with honesty.

You let out a soft laugh, your fingers still clutching his shirt. “I thought I was imagining it,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You… being interested in me.”

Aaron shook his head slightly, his thumb brushing along your jawline. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about,” he confessed.

Your cheeks flushed again, but this time, you didn’t look away. Instead, you surprised him again, your boldness returning. “Well, if that’s the case, you should probably kiss me again,” you said, your tone soft but teasing.

Aaron chuckled, the sound low and warm, and his smile widened as he leaned in once more. “You’re full of surprises,” he murmured before his lips found yours again.

This time, the kiss lingered, filled with a quiet intensity that made the world outside the shop disappear. When he finally pulled back, his hand still cradling your face, he smiled at you—genuine, warm, and entirely captivated.

“I’ll see you soon?” he asked, his voice soft but steady.

You nodded, your smile shy but glowing. “You’d better,” you teased lightly.

Aaron chuckled again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before stepping back toward the door. “Goodnight,” he said, his voice laced with quiet promise.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” you replied, your voice filled with something hopeful and certain.

As Aaron walked out into the night, his heart felt lighter than it had in years. You had surprised him, challenged him, and made him feel something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in far too long. And he couldn’t wait to see where this path with you would lead.

Days later, Aaron Hotchner stood at the door of Sweet Beginnings once again, the soft glow from the shop's windows spilling out onto the quiet street. In his hand, he carried a bottle of wine he’d picked up on his way—a thoughtful gesture for what you’d described as a more casual date tonight. You had insisted he didn’t need to bring anything, but Aaron couldn’t help himself. He wanted to show you how much he cared and how much he valued this time with you.

When you opened the door, you were already smiling, your cheeks faintly flushed from the lingering warmth of the shop’s ovens. You were dressed comfortably—a soft sweater and jeans—but to Aaron, you looked as stunning as ever.

“Hi,” you greeted softly, stepping aside to let him in.

“Hi,” Aaron replied, his voice warm. He handed you the bottle, and his lips quirked into a faint smile. “I thought this might pair well with dessert.”

You looked at the bottle and then back at him, “You didn’t have to do that,” you said, your voice grateful.

“I wanted to,” Aaron said simply, his dark eyes steady on yours.

You smiled again, setting the bottle on the counter before turning back to him. “I was thinking,” you began, your voice tinged with nervousness, “instead of staying down here… maybe we could go upstairs? It’s more comfortable.”

Aaron blinked, momentarily surprised by the invitation. He hadn’t expected you to suggest something so intimate, but the idea of seeing more of your world—of being closer to you—was one he couldn’t resist.

“If you’re comfortable with that,” he said gently, his tone leaving the decision entirely up to you.

You nodded, your smile shy but certain. “I am,” you said softly, turning toward the back staircase. “Come on.”

Your apartment was as warm and inviting as the shop below, filled with soft colors, cozy textures, and personal touches. Aaron took it all in as you gestured for him to sit on the couch, your nervous energy evident as you moved about the small space.

“I thought we could have dessert up here,” you said, your voice light but a little rushed. “I made a tart earlier, and—”

“Take your time,” Aaron said gently, cutting through your flustered tone. “It’s perfect.”

You paused, looking at him as he settled onto the couch, his expression soft and encouraging. His presence had a way of grounding you, even as the tension between you began to build.

You busied yourself in the kitchen for a moment, retrieving the tart and plates before joining him on the couch. Your hands trembled slightly as you handed him a plate, and you avoided his gaze, afraid he’d see the way your shyness warred with the growing tension between you.

“This looks amazing,” Aaron said, his voice sincere as he took a bite. “You really do have a gift.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Thank you,” you murmured. “It’s just something I’ve always loved doing.”

Aaron watched you as you spoke, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. You could feel it—his intensity, the way he seemed to be taking in every detail. It made your heart race, the room feeling suddenly smaller.

After a few bites, Aaron set his plate down, leaning back slightly as he looked at you. “I wasn’t expecting to be invited up here,” he said softly, his tone measured but warm. “Not that I’m complaining.”

You laughed nervously, setting your own plate down. “I just thought… I don’t know. I wanted to share this part of me with you,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I know it’s not much, but it’s… mine.”

“It’s beautiful,” Aaron said, his voice low. “Like everything about you.”

Your breath hitched, and you looked away, the tension in the room becoming palpable. You felt it in the way his gaze lingered, in the space between you that seemed to shrink with every passing second.

“I don’t know how you do that,” you said suddenly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Do what?” Aaron asked, his tone soft but curious.

“Say things like that,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing deeper. “You make me feel like I’m… someone else. Someone braver than I am.”

Aaron leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “You don’t need to be anyone else,” he said firmly. “You’re already more than enough.”

The air between you felt electric, the pull undeniable. Your shyness kept you rooted in place, but the growing tension was impossible to ignore. Your fingers trembled as they brushed against the edge of your sweater, your eyes darting to his lips before you quickly looked away.

Aaron noticed, his sharp instincts picking up on every subtle movement, every unspoken thought. But he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned back slightly, giving you space while his own restraint was tested by the sheer pull he felt toward you.

“It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.”

His words broke something in you—the careful wall you’d been holding up against the intensity of your feelings. Taking a deep breath, you looked up at him, your voice trembling but bold.

“I don’t want you to go anywhere,” you said softly, your eyes locking onto his. “I just don’t know how to… do this.”

Aaron’s expression softened, and he reached out slowly, his hand brushing against yours. “You don’t have to know,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “We’ll figure it out together.”

The tension between you was unbearable now, your shyness colliding with the desire blooming in your chest. Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned forward, your lips brushing softly against his.

Aaron froze for a moment, caught off guard by your sudden boldness, but then his hand came up to cup your cheek, his lips moving against yours in a kiss that was tender but filled with unspoken promise.

When you finally pulled back, your cheeks were flushed, your breathing uneven. Aaron’s dark eyes searched yours, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“Was that brave enough for you?” you asked softly, your voice trembling but teasing.

Aaron chuckled, the sound low and warm, and leaned in to kiss you again. His answer was clear without needing words.

The space between you small but charged. His arm rested on the back of the couch, and though he wasn’t touching you, the closeness of his presence made your skin tingle.

You had leaned back after the kiss, trying to calm your racing heart, but Aaron’s eyes hadn’t left you. His steady, dark gaze followed every nervous movement of your hands as they fiddled with the edge of your sweater, every flutter of your lashes as you avoided his intense look.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, his voice low and soothing.

You nodded quickly, though your cheeks burned, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “I’m fine,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “It’s just… you.”

Aaron tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing. “Me?”

You exhaled a shaky breath, finally daring to glance up at him. His eyes softened as they met yours, and the warmth in them gave you just enough courage to speak.

“You make me so flustered,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing even deeper. “The way you look at me… like right now. It’s… it’s overwhelming sometimes.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile, his head dipping slightly as if to meet your eyes more fully. “Overwhelming in a bad way?” he asked, his tone teasing but still gentle.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Not bad. Just… I don’t know how to handle it. You make me feel like I’m about to melt when you look at me like that.”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. His hand moved from the back of the couch to rest lightly on your knee, the weight of it grounding you even as your heart raced faster.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he said, his voice steady but filled with warmth. “The way you get flustered, the way you blush when I say something—it’s… charming. Sexy, even.”

Your eyes widened, and you froze for a moment before looking away again, your fingers brushing nervously against your lap. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me sexy before,” you whispered, your voice tinged with disbelief.

“Well,” Aaron said, leaning in slightly, his lips quirking into a small smile, “they should have. Because you are.”

Your breath caught, and you felt the heat rush to your cheeks again. “Aaron…”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady on yours. “You can tell me,” he said softly. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

You hesitated, the words stuck in your throat, but his patience and warmth made it impossible to hold back. “I want you,” you blurted out, your voice trembling but honest. “I don’t know how to say it without sounding… I don’t know. But I do. I really, really want you.”

Aaron’s expression shifted, his eyes darkening slightly, though his smile remained. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about that,” he said, his tone low but full of reassurance. “Hearing you say that? Knowing you feel that way? It’s… everything.”

You bit your lip, your fingers gripping your sweater tightly as you forced yourself to meet his gaze. “You just make me so nervous,” you admitted, your voice still trembling. “But I don’t want to be nervous. I want to be… confident. I want to be the kind of woman who can look at you and not completely fall apart.”

Aaron leaned closer, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. “Just be you,” he said firmly, his thumb brushing lightly along your skin. “I like that you get nervous. I like that you’re shy. It makes every moment with you feel… real.”

Your lips parted slightly, your breath catching at the sincerity in his voice. “You mean that?”

“I mean it,” he said, his gaze steady. “You’re perfect just as you are. And if I’m making you melt just by looking at you…” His lips curved into a faint smirk, and his tone dropped slightly, “I’d say we’re off to a good start.”

You laughed softly, the sound breaking through your nervousness, and Aaron smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. This time, you didn’t pull away or shy away from his intensity. Instead, you let yourself lean into it, into him, feeling the tension between you shift into something warm and electric.

When the kiss ended, you rested your forehead against his, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“Dangerous?” Aaron echoed, his voice filled with playful curiosity.

“Yeah,” you said softly, your voice tinged with teasing. “For my heart.”

Aaron chuckled again, the sound low and rich as he pressed another kiss to your forehead. “Then I guess I’ll have to handle it with care,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet promise.

Aaron’s forehead remained lightly pressed against yours, his breath warm against your skin. The weight of his hand on your cheek felt grounding, yet the tension between you still simmered, charged with an unspoken pull that neither of you could ignore.

“I mean it,” Aaron said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was low but steady, filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. “You don’t have to hide how you feel. Not with me.”

Your fingers trembled as they brushed against his shirt, gripping lightly as though to steady yourself. “It’s just… it’s so new,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never felt like this before. Not with anyone.”

Aaron pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. His dark gaze was steady, reassuring, but there was something else in it now—a quiet intensity that made your breath catch. “Neither have I,” he admitted, his words honest and deliberate. “Not like this.”

Your eyes searched his, the sincerity in his voice making you feel both exposed and comforted all at once. “You… you make it feel easy,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “Even when I’m nervous, even when I feel like I’m going to fall apart… you make it okay.”

Aaron’s lips quirked into a faint smile, his hand brushing softly along your cheek. “That’s how you make me feel, too,” he said, his voice low and warm.

The air between you thickened, the tension growing as his thumb traced slow, gentle circles against your skin. You leaned into his touch, your breath hitching as your body betrayed the restraint you were trying to hold onto.

“Aaron,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I want you to kiss me again.”

His gaze darkened slightly, and his smile softened, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he leaned in. “I’d be lying if I said I’ve wanted anything else all night,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

The kiss that followed was deeper this time, more purposeful. Aaron’s other hand rested lightly on your waist, his touch firm but not demanding. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t pressing for more, but his presence alone made your skin tingle and your heart race.

You felt your shyness melting away under his attention, replaced by a slow-burning confidence that you hadn’t realized was there. Your hands moved from gripping his shirt to sliding up toward his shoulders, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his sweater.

When the kiss finally broke, you were both breathing heavily, the silence filled with the sound of your shared breaths. Aaron’s forehead rested against yours once more, his eyes closed for a moment as though he were steadying himself.

“I don’t want to rush you,” he said softly, his voice rough with restraint. “But I can’t lie—it’s taking everything in me not to lose myself in you right now.”

Your blush deepened, but instead of retreating, you surprised yourself by speaking boldly. “I don’t want to rush either,” you said, your voice trembling but certain. “But… I don’t want you to hold back, either. I want to feel this. I want to feel you.”

Aaron’s eyes snapped open, his dark gaze locking onto yours as though he were searching for any sign of doubt. But when he saw none, his lips curved into a small, almost reverent smile.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his tone low but steady.

You nodded, your fingers tightening slightly on his shoulders. “I’ve never been more sure,” you whispered.

Aaron leaned in again, his kiss slower this time, more deliberate. His hands moved gently, one brushing along your back while the other cradled your face. Every touch felt like a question, and every response from you—whether it was a sigh, a soft touch, or the way you leaned into him—was an answer.

The tension between you no longer felt like a battle but a dance, one that neither of you wanted to end. For the first time, you felt yourself fully surrendering to the moment, to him, letting go of the nervousness that had always held you back.

The warmth of Aaron’s touch grounded you, even as the tension between you spiraled into something electric. His hands, steady yet gentle, moved with purpose—one cradling your cheek, the other brushing down your back, pulling you closer. Every kiss seemed to deepen the connection, erasing the space between you both physically and emotionally.

You leaned into him fully, your hands sliding over his chest and up to his shoulders, clutching him like he was the only thing tethering you to the ground. Your nervousness was still there, but it was drowned out by the intensity of the moment, by the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world.

Aaron pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing uneven as he searched your eyes. “You can tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Anytime. I need you to know that.”

You shook your head quickly, your hands tightening on his shoulders. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

His gaze softened, the corner of his mouth curving into a faint smile. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his tone laced with admiration. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your shyness battling with the growing desire blooming in your chest. “I… I feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could feel.”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, and pressed a kiss to your forehead before capturing your lips again. This time, the kiss was slower, deeper, filled with unspoken promises. His hands began to roam, exploring cautiously but with intent, and every touch sent a new wave of heat through your body.

You let out a soft gasp as his lips left yours, trailing down your jaw and to the sensitive spot just below your ear. Your hands slid into his hair, your fingers curling as you tilted your head, giving him better access. The sound of your sighs, soft and breathy, seemed to spur him on, his movements growing more confident.

“Aaron,” you whispered, his name falling from your lips like a plea.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes searching yours once again. “Say the word,” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint. “Tell me what you want.”

You swallowed hard, your cheeks burning as you met his gaze. “I want you,” you said softly but firmly, your hands sliding down to his chest. “All of you.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile, one filled with warmth and desire. He leaned in, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips before standing, effortlessly lifting you into his arms as though you weighed nothing. The sudden motion made you laugh softly, your arms wrapping around his neck as he carried you toward your bedroom.

The tension between you reached its peak as he laid you down gently, his touch careful but sure. His gaze lingered on you, his dark eyes filled with a mix of admiration and desire that made your heart race. You reached for him, pulling him closer, and as his lips found yours again, the world around you seemed to melt away.

And then, as the night deepened, the rest was lost to the soft whispers of your names and the quiet, shared discovery of one another, every barrier between you finally falling away.

Time seemed to slow as Aaron’s lips pressed against yours, each kiss deeper, more tender than the last. His touch was reverent, like he was memorizing every curve, every sigh, every part of you that made you uniquely you. The tension between you wasn’t rushed or frenzied but deliberate, a dance of unspoken words and shared longing.

His hands, warm and steady, mapped your body like a treasured discovery. Every brush of his fingers was gentle but purposeful, igniting a warmth in you that spread like the soft glow of dawn breaking over the horizon. He treated you with a care you’d never known, as though you were something precious he’d been entrusted to protect.

Aaron’s gaze, dark and full of emotion, never left yours. Even as his lips traveled down your skin, leaving a trail of kisses that made your breath hitch, he watched you, his eyes seeking your every reaction. You felt seen in a way that made you both shy and emboldened, your body arching instinctively toward his touch.

The connection between you was unspoken but undeniable, every movement a reflection of the care and trust you’d built together. His whispered words, soft and low against your ear, sent shivers down your spine, and when he murmured your name, it sounded like a prayer.

You gave yourself to him completely, your hands exploring his strong, steady frame, marveling at the way his body responded to your touch. Each sigh, each quiet moan that escaped his lips, felt like an answer to the questions you didn’t know you were asking.

The way he held you, the way his touch lingered as though savoring every moment, made your heart swell. You’d never felt so adored, so cherished. The tenderness in his movements spoke of more than desire—it was devotion, a quiet declaration of everything he couldn’t yet put into words.

As the night deepened, you found yourself lost in him, and he in you. The world outside your small apartment faded into nothingness, leaving only the quiet rhythm of your shared breaths and the gentle hum of something deeper—something neither of you could deny.

And when the crescendo came, it wasn’t with fireworks or grand gestures but with a soft, shared sigh that spoke of contentment and connection. His forehead rested against yours, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face as he whispered your name one more time, his voice filled with a quiet awe that made your heart ache.

“I’m here,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

In that moment, wrapped in his arms, you felt safe, seen, and completely loved. It wasn’t just a joining of bodies—it was the start of something bigger, something that neither of you could deny. And as the night gave way to the quiet stillness of early morning, you knew that whatever came next, you’d face it together.

The first thing you noticed was the warmth—the kind that wasn’t just from the heavy quilt draped over you but from the solid presence beside you. Aaron’s arm was wrapped around your waist, his hand resting gently against your stomach. The steady rhythm of his breathing brushed softly against the back of your neck, grounding you in a way that felt almost surreal.

The faint golden light of morning filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Everything felt still, suspended in a quiet kind of intimacy that made you hesitant to move. For a moment, you simply lay there, your fingers brushing lightly over Aaron’s hand where it rested against you.

“You’re awake,” his voice came, low and rough from sleep.

You turned slightly, your cheeks warming at the realization that he’d caught you watching the way his fingers curled against your stomach. “I… didn’t want to wake you,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aaron chuckled, the sound low and soothing. “I’ve been awake for a while,” he admitted, his arm tightening slightly around you. “I didn’t want to move and risk waking you.”

The tenderness in his words made your chest ache in the best way. You turned in his arms so you could face him, your eyes meeting his. His dark hair was slightly mussed from sleep, and the faint stubble on his jaw only added to the softness in his expression.

“Hi,” you said shyly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Hi,” he replied, his own lips curving into a faint smile. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch slow and deliberate.

You looked down for a moment, your cheeks flushing under his gaze. “Last night…” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “It was… I don’t even know how to describe it.”

Aaron’s thumb brushed lightly along your jawline, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look at him. “It was perfect,” he said simply, his tone filled with quiet conviction. “Because it was you.”

Your breath hitched at the honesty in his voice, and you felt the familiar heat rise to your cheeks. “You’re too good at saying things like that,” you murmured, your fingers brushing against his chest.

“I only say what I mean,” he replied, his gaze steady on yours.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was warm, filled with the unspoken connection that had grown steadily between you. You reached up tentatively, your fingers brushing against his cheek.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before,” you admitted softly. “Not with anyone.”

Aaron leaned into your touch, his eyes softening as he covered your hand with his. “Neither have I,” he said, his voice low but certain. “And I don’t want it to stop.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as you met his gaze. “It scares me,” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly. “How much I feel for you. How much I… want this.”

Aaron’s hand slid down to rest against your waist, his grip firm but comforting. “It scares me too,” he admitted, his voice rough with honesty. “But I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something more.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for the first time, the fear that had been lurking at the edges of your mind seemed to fade. You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and when he pulled you closer, you knew that whatever came next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, tangled together in the quiet morning light, the world outside your small apartment seeming far away. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to feel it fully—the hope, the joy, and the undeniable certainty that you had found something worth holding onto.

“Time for me to get up and open the shop,” you said, your voice tinged with regret. “And for you to get to work.”

Aaron sighed, his grip on you loosening reluctantly. “I suppose we can’t stay here all day.”

As you slipped out of bed and began to get ready, Aaron remained stretched out, watching you with a quiet intensity. You moved around the room with a blend of shyness and ease, glancing back at him occasionally, your cheeks flushing each time you caught his gaze.

“You’re staring,” you teased softly as you tied your apron over your casual dress.

“I am,” Aaron admitted unapologetically, sitting up and running a hand through his tousled hair. “You make it hard not to.”

Your blush deepened, but you didn’t shy away this time.

At the BAU, Aaron Hotchner checked his watch as he sifted through a mountain of case files on his desk. He was already late for a briefing with the team, his morning a whirlwind of calls and paperwork. As he stood to leave, the familiar voice of Penelope Garcia carried across the bullpen.

“Hotch! Your favorite person is here—and no, it’s not me this time!”

He glanced up, eyebrows raised, and froze for a brief moment when he saw you standing beside Garcia, a tray of coffee in one hand and a small brown bag in the other. The sight of you in his office, your shy smile softening your features, made his heart tighten in a way he hadn’t expected.

You. Here. For him.

Aaron crossed the room in quick strides, his expression softening as he approached. “You didn’t have to come all the way here,” he said gently, his voice dropping to a private tone meant just for you.

“I wanted to,” you replied softly, holding out the tray. “I know you’re busy, and I thought… maybe this could make your day a little easier.”

The sincerity in your voice, the quiet thoughtfulness of the gesture, struck something deep within him. Taking the tray, his fingers brushed yours briefly, and he allowed himself a small smile. “Thank you,” he said, his voice warm. “This means more than you know.”

Before he could say more, Penelope stepped in, her enthusiasm uncontainable. “And a pastry? Hotch, you’ve got a keeper!”

Aaron sighed lightly, glancing at Garcia with a faint shake of his head. “Garcia,” he said, his tone somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

“What?” she said innocently, gesturing toward the tray. “I’m just stating facts.”

By now, JJ and Spencer had noticed the commotion and approached, curiosity evident in their expressions. JJ gave him a knowing look before turning her attention to you.

“You must be the owner of Sweet Beginnings,” JJ said warmly, extending a hand.

Aaron watched as you took the handshake, your shy smile making an appearance again. “I am,” you said softly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You’ve got good taste, Hotch,” JJ teased, her gaze flickering back to him with a grin.

Aaron felt a faint warmth creep up his neck, but he kept his expression composed. “Let’s not make this a spectacle,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual edge.

Spencer stepped forward next, his natural awkwardness on full display. “I’ve read about coffee shops like yours,” he began, his voice gaining confidence as he spoke. “They act as community hubs, reducing isolation and fostering social interaction. It’s a fascinating model.”

Aaron’s gaze shifted to you, watching as you smiled gently at Reid’s rambling. “That’s one of the reasons I started it,” you said, your voice soft but genuine. “I wanted it to feel like a place where people could feel at home.”

Hearing you speak about your passion made Aaron’s chest tighten. He’d always admired your gentleness, but seeing you hold your own in the midst of his team—your shyness balanced by quiet confidence—made him feel something deeper, something solid.

Penelope, never one to let a moment pass without commentary, clapped her hands together. “You have no idea how much joy this brings me. Hotch hasn’t smiled this much in years, and now you’re here with coffee? You’re a saint--Hotch, can we keep her?”

Aaron gave her a sharp look, though the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “That’s enough, Garcia.”

You laughed softly, your blush deepening as you glanced at him. “I should probably let you get back to work,” you said, your voice still tinged with nervousness.

Aaron stepped forward slightly, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “I’ll walk you out.”

He led you toward the elevator, the rest of the team’s chatter fading into the background. When you reached the doors, Aaron turned to face you fully, his expression softening as he took in the sight of you—your shy smile, the faint blush still lingering on your cheeks.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice filled with sincerity. “For coming here. For this.” He gestured toward the coffee tray still in his hand.

“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, though your smile told him otherwise.

“It’s not,” Aaron replied firmly, his gaze locking onto yours. “You’ve made my day better in more ways than one.”

The elevator doors opened, and you hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. “I’ll see you soon?” you asked softly, your eyes meeting his.

“You will,” Aaron said, his voice steady but warm.

As the doors closed and you disappeared from view, Aaron stood there for a moment, the coffee tray still in his hands. His morning had started as chaos, but now, with the simple gift of your presence, everything felt lighter.

He returned to his desk, Penelope’s teasing grin already waiting for him. But as he sipped the coffee you’d brought, Aaron couldn’t help but think about how seamlessly you’d begun to fit into his life—and how much he wanted to keep it that way.

The weeks that followed were a blur of quiet mornings, shared laughter, and the slow, steady building of something undeniable between Aaron Hotchner and you. Each date felt like peeling back another layer, revealing more of who you both were beneath the carefully constructed walls life had required you to build.

Aaron found himself drawn to your world—the warm, comforting atmosphere of your coffee shop, the way you spoke about your love for creating a place where people could feel at home. He loved the way your cheeks flushed when he surprised you with flowers or when he praised your baking. You, in turn, found yourself mesmerized by the way Aaron balanced his intensity with softness, his protectiveness with vulnerability. He opened up to you in ways you knew were rare, sharing pieces of his past, his fears, and his hopes for the future.

The intimate moments between you grew, each one deepening the connection. There were stolen kisses in the quiet of your apartment, his hands gentle but firm as he pulled you closer. There were late-night phone calls when his cases kept him away, his voice low and soothing as he talked to you about everything and nothing. There were mornings where he lingered at your shop before work, his dark eyes lighting up at the sight of you bustling behind the counter.

Your shyness began to ease in his presence, replaced by a quiet confidence that bloomed under his care. Aaron, in turn, found himself leaning into the romance of it all—bringing you small gifts that reminded him of you, planning thoughtful dates where he could watch your eyes light up, and holding you close as though afraid to let go.

It wasn’t long before you both realized the depth of what was forming between you. Love, quiet and sure, began to weave its way into your lives. And while neither of you said the words out loud just yet, it was clear in the way he looked at you, in the way you reached for him, and in the way you both felt when you were together: like you had finally found a home in each other.

The day you met Jack was unassuming but transformative for Aaron. He had been nervous, more than he cared to admit, as he brought his son to your coffee shop one sunny Saturday morning. Jack, curious and wide-eyed, had taken to you immediately, charmed by your gentle demeanor and the way you spoke to him with such genuine care.

You had knelt to his level, offering him a cookie you’d saved for him and asking about his favorite games with such ease that it made Aaron’s heart ache. Watching the two of you laugh together over a shared joke—or seeing Jack cling to your hand as you guided him behind the counter to show him the “secret bakery magic”—solidified something deep within Aaron.

In that moment, he saw not only how naturally you fit into his world but how much joy you brought to his son’s life as well. It was as if a missing piece he hadn’t realized he was searching for had finally clicked into place, and for the first time in years, Aaron allowed himself to hope for a future filled with the love and warmth you brought so effortlessly into their lives.

The soft hum of the heater filled the quiet of your apartment as Aaron sat on your couch, his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up after a long day. The scent of tea lingered in the air, the steam curling lazily from the cup you’d placed in front of him. He felt the weight of the day still on his shoulders, but the warmth of your home—and your presence—was already easing it away.

“You wouldn’t believe the guesses I got today about the ‘secret ingredient’ in my apple tarts,” you said with a small laugh, sitting across from him in the armchair. “Cinnamon, nutmeg… someone even suggested lavender.”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “Lavender? In an apple tart?”

“I know,” you said, laughing as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I couldn’t tell her the truth. It’d ruin the mystery.”

Aaron watched you as you spoke, your laughter soft and genuine, the way your hands moved expressively when you got caught up in a story. It was the kind of moment he never thought he’d have again—simple, comforting, and entirely yours.

“You’re good at this, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice soft.

You looked up at him, tilting your head slightly. “At what?”

“Making things feel lighter,” he replied, his gaze steady. “Easier.”

You blushed, a shy smile playing on your lips. “I think you just need more nights off.”

Aaron shook his head, his eyes not leaving yours. “It’s not about nights off,” he said quietly. “It’s you.”

The words came so easily, so naturally, that they surprised even him. He hadn’t planned to say them, but now that they were out there, he realized just how deeply he meant them.

Your blush deepened, and you ducked your head, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sweater. “Aaron…”

“Come here,” he said softly, patting the seat beside him.

You hesitated for only a moment before moving to sit next to him, leaning into his side. His arm came around you instinctively, holding you close as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The room was filled only with the soft ticking of the clock and the quiet hum of the heater. Aaron’s fingers traced absent patterns along your arm, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“I don’t want to scare you,” he began, his voice low but steady. “But I need to tell you something.”

You turned your head slightly, your wide eyes meeting his. “What is it?”

He hesitated, his hand stilling on your arm as he searched for the right words. But then, as he looked at you—your shy smile, your gentle eyes, the quiet strength in the way you leaned into him—he realized there was no point in holding back.

“I love you,” he said, the words quiet but firm. There was no hesitation in his tone now, no doubt. “I didn’t plan to say it, not tonight, but it’s true. And I need you to know that.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you stared at him, your cheeks flushed with emotion. “You… you do?”

“I do,” Aaron said, his voice softening as his hand moved to cup your cheek. “I know it’s fast, and I don’t want to overwhelm you. But you’ve brought something into my life I didn’t think I’d ever have again. And I mean it—every word.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, and a radiant smile spread across your face as you reached up to cover his hand with yours. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure.

Aaron exhaled, relief and something deeper flooding through him. He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and tender, filled with everything he couldn’t put into words.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he smiled—a rare, genuine smile that you knew was just for you. “You make me feel like myself again,” he murmured. “Like I’m not just… getting through the day.”

“You make me feel the same way,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his jaw.

In the quiet warmth of your apartment, with your heartbeats steady and aligned, Aaron realized that he hadn’t just fallen in love with you—he had found a future he hadn’t dared to hope for. And with you in his arms, it felt as though everything in his world had finally fallen into place.

The months that followed were filled with a quiet joy that neither of you had anticipated but both of you cherished. Aaron found himself carving out moments of calm amidst the chaos of his work, prioritizing time with you in a way that felt natural, even necessary. You, in turn, opened up in ways you never thought possible, letting him see every piece of you—your dreams, your fears, your past—and finding that he met each one with unwavering patience and care.

One evening, after a long day for both of you, Aaron arrived at your apartment with Jack in tow. The boy had insisted on bringing you a drawing he’d made—two stick figures holding hands, standing in front of a coffee shop with the words “Y/N and Dad” scrawled in his careful handwriting. The look on Aaron’s face as Jack handed it to you, beaming with pride, spoke volumes. He was proud of the life you were all building together, the way you had seamlessly become a part of his and Jack’s world.

Later that evening, as Jack dozed off on your couch, Aaron helped you clean up after dinner. The domesticity of the moment struck him—his sleeves rolled up, you at the sink rinsing dishes, both of you working in quiet harmony. It wasn’t just comfortable; it was home.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Aaron asked suddenly, his voice low but steady.

You glanced over your shoulder, your brow furrowing slightly at the question. “I do,” you said softly, drying your hands on a towel. “Why?”

Aaron turned to face you, his dark eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “Because I see it. With you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your lips parting as you struggled to find the words to respond. Before you could speak, Aaron stepped closer, his hands settling lightly on your waist.

“I never thought I’d have this again,” he admitted, his voice quiet but filled with emotion. “A home. A partner. Someone who makes me want to be better every single day.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his words sank in, and you reached up to rest your hands on his chest. “Aaron…”

“I love you,” he said firmly, his hands tightening slightly on your waist. “I’ve loved you since I walked into your shop for the first time, even if I didn’t realize it then. And I’ll keep loving you—for as long as you’ll have me.”

Your tears spilled over, and you let out a soft, breathy laugh as you nodded. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I always will.”

Aaron leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, and in that moment, everything else faded away. The challenges of his job, the weight of his past—they didn’t disappear, but they no longer defined him. You were his future, and he was yours.

As Jack stirred on the couch, mumbling something about cookies in his sleep, Aaron pulled back with a soft chuckle. “I should probably put him to bed,” he said, his forehead resting against yours for a moment longer.

You smiled, your fingers brushing against his jaw. “Stay,” you said softly. “Both of you. Stay tonight.”

Aaron’s eyes softened, and he nodded, his heart swelling with a quiet certainty. “We’d like that,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

That night, as the three of you settled into the cozy rhythm of your home, Aaron couldn’t help but feel that this was the start of something new. Not just a chapter, but an entirely different book—one filled with love, laughter, and a life he hadn’t dared to dream of until he met you. And as he held you close, with Jack asleep nearby, he knew he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Tag List:

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chosok-amo · 4 months ago

Text

ONE TOO MANY : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

the first time you have an argument with your two boyfriends is because they've been ignoring you for weeks, so you return the favor.

wc. 4,3k | m.list | part. 2

warning. boyfriends! satosugu, angst to fluff (kinda), petnames, light arguments, silent treatment, and idk.

as you sit on the couch, the dim light of the living room casting long shadows across the room, you glance at the clock. it's late—much later than usual for geto and gojo to be coming home. a knot of worry tightens in your chest, but you push it aside. you know their work can be demanding, but you miss them.

the door finally creaks open, and your heart leaps as geto and gojo step inside. but something feels off. their usual smiles are absent, their shoulders slumped with exhaustion. geto barely acknowledges you with a nod, and gojo doesn't even glance your way, heading straight to the kitchen to grab a drink.

“hey...” you begin softly, but your voice trails off as they move around the room like you're not even there. geto drops his bag by the door and heads for the stairs, clearly ready to crash in bed without a word. gojo's usually bright eyes are dull, and when he finally looks at you, it's with a tired expression that makes your heart sink.

“i’m just... really tired,” gojo mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoids your gaze.

you feel a wave of frustration and hurt rise within you. they’ve had long days before, but they’ve never been so dismissive. you stand up, crossing your arms, trying to figure out what to say, how to break through whatever barrier has suddenly sprung up between you. “baby... what's going on?” you ask, your voice laced with concern.

geto pauses at the base of the stairs, sighing deeply, “just... give us some space, okay? we’ve had a rough day.”

his words hit you harder than they should, and you’re left standing there, feeling more alone than ever as they head off to bed without another word. the room feels colder, emptier, and you’re left wondering if it’s something you did, or if there’s something they’re not telling you.

the next morning you wake up to the smell of coffee and the soft sound of music coming from the kitchen. your stomach does a flip, a hint of excitement mixing with lingering unease. you slide out of bed and pad down the stairs, your heart rate picking up as you near the kitchen.

the sight that greets you is unexpected. geto and gojo stand side by side, their back to you as they putter in the kitchen. gojo's tall form easily dominates the space, his shoulders broader than you remembered. geto's hair is ruffled, still messy from sleep, and it's a stark contrast to his usually composed appearance. they haven't noticed you yet, engrossed in their task as they move around each other in a synchronized dance.

you lean against the doorway, watching them for a moment. gojo's slender fingers skillfully flip pancakes, and geto hums along to the music playing softly in the background, a spatula in his hand as he tends to the bacon.

it's a scene so domestic and natural, yet it feels surreal given their cold demeanor from last night. it's as if they're trying to pretend yesterday never happened, to go back to normalcy. geto suddenly looks up, catching your gaze. his expression turns serious, his dark eyes locking onto yours. gojo continues cooking, his back still to you, but you can almost feel the tension radiating from him.

“you're up,” geto comments, his voice neutral.

you clear your throat, trying to keep your tone light, “yeah, the coffee smell woke me up.”

“coffee's almost done,” gojo says without turning around, his voice lacking its usual playful edge. an awkward silence settles over the room, thick and stifling.

you watch as they continue to cook, each movement precise and calculated. no small talk, no casual touches or laughter like you're used to. gojo plates the pancakes and bacon, setting them on the table, before finally turning to face you. his normally bright eyes are cool and detached.

“breakfast is ready,” he mutters, breaking the silence.

you swallow the lump in your throat, feeling the distance between you growing wider with every passing moment. the breakfast they've prepared looks delicious, but sitting down to eat together feels like an impossible feat given the current atmosphere.

you shift your weight, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten further. the air in the kitchen is charged, and the earlier domestic scene has been shattered. geto turns back to the stove, his shoulders tense as he tends to the food. gojo continues flipping pancakes, his movements more rigid than normal.

“so...” you begin, your voice breaking the silence, “about last night—”

“don't,” geto interrupts, his voice firm. “can we just not do this right now?”

his blunt response hangs in the air, and you're taken aback by his abruptness. you feel your frustration and confusion mounting, but before you can say anything, gojo puts down the spatula, his voice laced with irritation.

“yeah, maybe we should just focus on the food,” he says, avoiding your gaze. the room falls into an awkward silence again, only the sound of cooking filling the air. you can feel the tension building, the unspoken words and emotions hanging heavily between you.

you look at them for a second, just staring without saying a words and they can see how quickly your expression change to cold as clear as the day. you swallow hard, the words you want to say sticking in your throat. instead, you just nod, barely meeting his eyes as you mumble, “okay.” your voice comes out small, almost defeated, as you focus on the floor.

even as you agree to let it go, the hurt gnaws at you. you want to bridge the gap, to reach out to them, but the coldness in their demeanor keeps you at arm’s length. the silence stretches on, and you’re left feeling more alone than ever, standing just a few feet away from the two people you thought you were closest to.

the meal is eaten in a heavy, uncomfortable silence. neither geto nor gojo make an effort to talk like they usually do, their eyes focused on their food. gojo's movements are mechanical, while geto's gaze keeps shifting towards you, his expression a mixture of guilt and determination to keep his distance.

as you finish eating, they quickly rise, busying themselves with cleaning up, still avoiding any meaningful eye contact with you.

as satoru reaches for your plate, you finally speak up, your voice firmer than you expected, “don’t.” he freezes for a moment, his hand hovering over your plate. you can feel his gaze on you, but you don��t look up. “i’ll do it myself,” you add, your tone making it clear that this isn’t up for debate.

geto looks up, his eyes flicking between you and gojo as if silently trying to communicate. gojo seems ready to argue, his jaw clenching, but geto subtly shakes his head, a silent warning. a beat of tense silence passes before gojo reluctantly pulls back his hand, a flash of something that looks like hurt in his eyes. he mumbles something under his breath that you don't quite catch.

pushing down the knot of emotions threatening to choke you, you stand up from the table and walk towards the sink where geto is still standing, his presence a heavy weight in the small space. without looking at him, you ask, your voice edged with coldness, “are you done?”

geto nods, his expression unreadable as he steps back slightly. there’s a moment where you consider softening your tone, but the way they’ve been treating you today and days before hardens your resolve.

“then move,” you say, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade. if they want to treat you like this, then you’re not going to just sit there and take it. you’ve given them space, tried to be patient, but their coldness is more than you can handle right now.

geto hesitates, a flash of something—guilt, perhaps—crossing his face before he steps aside, giving you room to move past him. you take your plate to the sink, the cool metal under your fingers grounding you as you begin to rinse it off, your movements sharp, deliberate.

as you stand there, the sound of running water filling the silence, you can feel their eyes on you, the weight of their unspoken words pressing down on your shoulders. but you don’t turn around. if they want to push you away, you won’t beg them to stay close. not tonight, not anymore.

geto remains where he stands, watching you silently, while gojo leans against the counter, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you as well. the minutes pass in a tense silence, the sound of the water and the clinking of dishes the only noise. you can feel their eyes on you, their gazes burning into your skin, but you keep your focus on the task at hand, refusing to break.

geto finally breaks the silence, his voice soft, but with an edge of determination, “can we talk?”

you pause for a moment, letting his request hang in the air. a bitter scoff escapes your lips as you turn off the water, feeling a surge of irony wash over you. you turn to face him, your expression hard as you look between geto and satoru. “oh, now you wanna talk?” you ask, your voice laced with mockery. “when i wanted to talk, you both shut me out. but now that i’m doing the same, suddenly it’s time for a conversation?”

there’s a biting edge to your words, a reflection of the hurt and frustration that’s been building up inside you all weeks. you don’t bother hiding it, letting them feel a fraction of what you’ve been feeling. if they want to push you away, then they’ll have to deal with the consequences.

geto falters, his expression flitting momentarily to gojo, before returning to you, his eyes reflecting a mix of regret and stubbornness. gojo doesn’t say anything, his jaw set, but you can sense the tension radiating from him as well.

“i know,” geto starts, his voice a bit shaky, “i know we’re being unfair. we owe you an explanation. we just…” he trails off, his gaze breaking yours as he glances at gojo again, almost seeking validation. gojo remains silent, his face stoic, but his eyes betray a flicker of internal struggle.

they both shift uncomfortably under your sharp words, gojo’s gaze darting away and geto’s expression darkening. their discomfort only adds fuel to your indignation.

“yeah, it’s funny how that works, isn’t it?” you continue, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “you ignore me for weeks and then suddenly want to talk when i’m finally done playing your little game. well, too bad. i’m done playing along,” you turn the water off and walk away to your shared bedroom.

gojo’s hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist before you can step away. the suddenness of his action catches you off guard, his grip tight but not aggressive. “wait,” he says, his voice low, his eyes searching yours.

geto steps towards you, his expression a mix of guilt and determination, “please.”

the desperation in their voices is unmistakable, and it’s the first sign of vulnerability they’ve shown all weeks. it’s enough to make you hesitate, to feel a flicker of reluctance. but you stood on your grounds— trying to stood on your ground. “i have works to do,” you mumble before push his hand away.

the past few days have been a blur, a mixture of long hours and late nights. you've been coming home later and later, deliberately avoiding going to bed with them, choosing instead to crash on the couch, wrapped in a blanket of silence and exhaustion. it’s not just the late nights—it’s the subtle shift in your routine, the way you’ve distanced yourself, mirroring the coldness they showed you that night. you’re not even sure if they’ve noticed, but it’s become your own form of silent rebellion, a way to protect yourself.

tonight is no different. when you finally walk through the door, it’s nearly one in the morning, your body heavy with fatigue. you’re expecting the house to be dark and quiet, but as you step into the kitchen, the soft light catches your attention. they’re both there, geto and gojo, standing near the stove, the faint smell of food lingering in the air.

gojo looks up first, his expression serious but tinged with something you can’t quite place. geto follows, his gaze steady as he watches you enter. “can we talk?” gojo asks, his voice more gentle than it’s been in days.

you hesitate, your hand tightening around the strap of your bag. “talk about what?” you reply, your voice is neutral, guarded. geto steps closer, concern etched into his features. “we heard you’ve started taking missions again,” he says quietly, the words heavy with implication. “why?”

you feel a flicker of something—anger, maybe, or frustration. they ignored you, pushed you away, and now they want to question your choices? it feels like a cruel twist of fate.

“why not?” you shoot back, dropping your bag onto the counter with a soft thud. “i figured if you two can focus on work and shut me out, then maybe i should do the same. why waste time waiting around?”

gojo's expression hardens at your answer, a shadow passing over his features. geto’s eyes flick between you both, his expression pained. “we’re not shutting you out,” gojo insists, his voice strained, “we’re just..”

“busy,” geto finishes, his gaze dropping to the floor.

the kitchen falls into thick silence, the tension stretching the air between you all. gojo leans against the counter, his arms crossed, while geto stands in the middle, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders tense.

you feel the pressure of their gazes on you, waiting for some reaction, some sign of understanding or forgiveness. but instead, you simply shrug your shoulders, your expression carefully neutral. “okay,” you mutter, the word simple but loaded with a cold indifference that makes their attempts at explanation feel small.

gojo shifts his weight, clearly frustrated by your continued coldness. his jaw clenches. geto tries a different angle, his voice soft. “we've been worried about you being out there alone.”

your eyes flicker back to his, and a flash of irritation passes through them. “alone?” you echo, a bitter edge to your tone. “really? you guys have been MIA for weeks, but now you're worried about me being alone?” the absurdity of the situation hits you, and a mocking laugh bubbles up, escaping in a few harsh chuckles. “you guys are unbelievable,” you say, the laughter carrying a mix of disbelief and hurt.

the laughter seems to take them by surprise, their faces reflecting a mix of guilt and confusion. the mocking tone of your voice stings, cutting through their attempts at reconciliation with a sharp edge.

gojo's jaw tenses, his hand clenching into a fist.

geto winces at the sound of your laughter, his eyes downcast. “i know it looks bad,” he murmurs, his voice almost pitiful.

“looks bad?” you repeat, your voice raises an octave, anger leaking into your words. “that's a nice way to put it. you two have been distant for weeks, acting like i don't even exist. then suddenly you're here, in the kitchen, when you know most nights i get home late.”

you step forward, your eyes narrowing as you gesture towards them. “were you waiting for me?” you ask, your voice quiet but seething with anger. “were you hoping to catch me in a weak moment, when i'm tired and vulnerable, so you could have this little heart-to-heart and feel better about yourselves?”

they both take a step back, looking taken aback by your sudden aggression. gojo's expression is a mix of guilt and defensiveness, while geto's eyes widen at the accusation. you take a deep breath, letting the anger ebb away just enough to speak. “i don't have time for this,” you say, letting out a sigh, “i only came home to get my things because my flight leaves in two hours. i’ve got a mission abroad for a week.”

the reality of your departure hangs in the air, the urgency in your voice making it clear that this conversation will have to wait. you turn, starting to gather your things, feeling the weight of their eyes on you as you move. the distance between you all feels like an insurmountable chasm, but for now, you have to focus on what’s ahead.

geto's eyes widen in surprise, while gojo's face pales. “wait—” they both speak at the same time, their voices filled with a mix of shock and desperation. geto quickly regains his composure, stepping forward, his arm reaching out. “hold on a second,” he says, his voice urgent, “you can't just leave—” gojo cuts in, his expression a mix of guilt and worry. “you’re not seriously going alone, are you?”

you brush off geto's arm, continuing to gather your things. “i don't have a choice,” you reply, your voice firm. “the higher-ups assigned me to the mission. i have to go.” gojo steps in front of you, his eyes meeting yours, a hint of pleading in them. “can we at least talk about this?” he asks, his voice quiet.

you pause, hesitating for a moment before shaking your head. “there’s nothing to talk about. my flight leaves soon, and i have to get ready.”

you can see the hurt in their eyes, the realization of your words sinking in. they hadn’t been there for you, and now they expected you to stay? to wait around for a conversation you didn’t think they even wanted to have?

gojo runs a hand through his hair, his expression frustrated. “what if something happens to you out there?” he says, his voice low and tense. geto steps forward, his eyes on yours, his voice pleading. “you can’t just leave things like this.” the desperation in their voices is a stark contrast to the coldness you’ve been experiencing these past few days. but it’s too little, too late.

your hands pause for a moment, your heart rate increasing at their reactions. you had wanted a reaction, but this intense concern was not what you had expected. you look back at them, your expression carefully nonchalant, despite the flurry of emotions swirling inside you.

“why not?” you asked, your voice betraying none of your inner turmoil. “you two are the ones who have been busy and distant. if you've got your own priorities, then why can't i have mine?”

gojo lets out a frustrated exhale, his hands clenching into fists by his sides. “that's not fair,” he mutters, his voice strained. geto looks torn, his eyes flickering between you and gojo. “just because we've been preoccupied doesn’t mean we don’t care.” the guilt in his voice is evident, mirroring the guilt you’ve been feeling. but you push it aside, trying to maintain the facade of indifference.

you let out a heavy sigh and sit down, looking up at them with a weary expression. “then what's fair, satoru?” you ask, your voice is steady but tinged with frustration. “tell me. i’ve been waiting for you two for days, weeks even. when i don’t wait around and i finally start doing things for myself, that’s not fair?”

the question hangs in the air, the weight of it pressing down on all of you. the silence that follows is thick with unresolved feelings, leaving the three of you standing on the edge of understanding, yet unable to bridge the gap between you.

gojo's gaze drops to the floor, his jaw clenching as if he’s struggling with his own emotions. geto's eyes flit between you both, his expression pained as he takes in your words. there's a moment of heavy silence before gojo finally speaks up, his voice low and laced with something you can’t quite place.

“you're right,” he admits, his eyes lifting to meet yours. “we've been shitty. we’ve been distant, ignoring you, making you feel like we don’t care.” geto nods in agreement, his eyes meeting yours as well. “we messed up,” he adds, his voice soft. “we've been dealing with some things and we shut you out.”

gojo runs a hand through his hair again, his gaze darting away and then back to yours. “we didn't mean to hurt you,” he says, his voice quiet but sincere, “we just... we weren't thinking.” the weight of their words hangs heavily in the air, and you feel a pang of sadness at their regret. “but you did hurt me,” you reply softly, your voice carrying a trace of vulnerability.

they both flinch at your words, their expressions flickering with guilt and remorse. gojo lets out a heavy sigh, his hands clenching into fists.

“we know,” he mutters, his voice almost a whisper. geto steps closer, his eyes filled with a mix of hurt and understanding. “we were idiots,” he says, his voice filled with remorse, “we didn't realize how much we were hurting you until you started spending less time with us.”

you take a deep breath as you stand to leave, the unspoken emotions and unresolved tension still linger between you. “i need to go. ijichi is waiting for me,” you say, the words firm but carrying an undertone of sadness.

you pause at the door, looking back at them. “we can talk when i get home,” you add, offering a faint, weary smile before stepping out. the door closes behind you, leaving them with the weight of your words and the promise of a future conversation.

they both watch you leave, their expressions a mixture of guilt, sorrow and a hint of hope. gojo's shoulders slump as you close the door behind you, while geto lets out a sigh, his eyes still fixed on the empty space where you were just a moment ago.

the apartment feels strangely quiet without you, the weight of the conversation still lingering in the air. they both know they have a lot to make up for, but for now, they wait, anxiously anticipating your return.

a week has passed, and the tension has only built as they waited for your return. when you finally come home, the sight that greets you in the living room is striking. geto and gojo are there, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and desperation. they look worn, their usual composure replaced by a sense of helplessness, as though the time apart has taken a visible toll on them.

they both rise as you enter, their eyes searching your face, a mix of hope and apprehension in their gazes. it’s clear they’ve been counting the days, each passing moment stretching into a painful reminder of their mistakes and your absence.

“hey,” you greet them with a small, tentative smile.

the room is thick with unspoken words and emotions. geto and gojo exchange a glance, their expressions softening slightly at your presence. they both take in your appearance, their eyes roving over you as if checking for any sign of injury from your recent mission. their shoulders relax somewhat, relieved that you're relatively unharmed.

gojo is the first to speak, his voice low and hoarse, as if he hasn't used it much these past few days. “you're back,” he murmurs, his eyes fixed on yours. geto stands behind him, his arms crossed as if holding back his own mixture of relief and anxiety. “how was the mission?” he asks, his voice a soft counterpoint to the tense silence.

you nod, your smile fading slightly as you respond. “the mission went well,” you say, your voice calm but carrying a hint of fatigue. geto uncrosses his arms, his posture relaxing a bit, while gojo’s shoulders seem to ease from their tightness. the tension in the room begins to shift, making way for the conversation and reconciliation that have been waiting for this moment.

you nod in response, your heart feeling the weight of the moment. “yeah, we can talk,” you say, but the words feel inadequate for what you’re really craving. “but could you hug me? i feel like i’m going to lose my mind if i don’t get a hug from you right now.”

gojo doesn't need to be told twice. he immediately steps forward, wrapping his arms around you in a tight grip, pulling you into his chest, his embrace so strong it almost lifts you off the ground. he buries his face in your hair, his breath shaky against your skin. “god, i missed you so much,” he murmurs, the words muffled against you.

geto hesitates for a moment, watching gojo's embrace. the sight of it makes his chest ache, a pang of jealousy mixed with guilt. but then, as if unable to resist, he steps closer, his arms wrapping around you from behind, his front pressed against your back. his embrace is gentler than gojo's, but no less heartfelt. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

you let out a deep sigh of relief as they wrap their arms around you. the warmth and closeness of their embrace offer a sense of comfort that you've been missing. the tension that’s built up over the past week starts to dissolve, replaced by the soothing reassurance of their presence. in this moment, the words and explanations can wait as you simply allow yourself to be held and to feel that things might start to mend.

they both hold you tight, their arms firm against you. their hold is almost possessive, as if they're afraid you're going to slip away. they don't say anything, their only response a mix of soft breathing and the occasional whispered murmur of your name.

after a few moments, gojo pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. his blue eyes roam over your face, taking in every detail as if he hadn't seen you in years. his voice is hoarse when he speaks, filled with a mixture of remorse and vulnerability. “can we sit?” you nod, a small but weary smile crossing your face. “yeah, let’s sit,” you agree, feeling the weight of the past week begin to lift just a little as you prepare to talk and hopefully begin to heal together.

they both guide you to the couch, with gojo sitting beside you while geto takes the armchair across from the two of you. as you settle into the cushions, their eyes follow your every move, as if afraid you might disappear again at any moment.

the room is silent for a moment, the only sound coming from the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall. gojo seems a bit unsure where to start, his eyes flickering between you and geto. geto takes the initiative, his eyes staying fixed on you. “we owe you an explanation,” he says, his voice soft but filled with regret. “we understand why you’re angry at us, and we’re sorry.”

gojo fidgets beside you, his gaze dropping briefly to his hands in his lap before he forces himself to look at you again. “we were caught up in some things,” he says, his voice low and almost ashamed. “and we shouldn’t have shut you out like we did.”

geto nods, his eyes never leaving your face. “we were idiots, plain and simple,” he admits, his voice filled with remorse. “we didn’t realize how much we were hurting you until you started distancing yourself from us. seeing you leave, not knowing if you were okay or not, it was one of the worst things we’ve ever experienced.”

you listen quietly, your fingers absently playing with the hem of your skirt. their words, while sincere, do little to erase the hurt you still feel from the past week. the pain lingers, a reminder of the distance and isolation you felt.

they both notice your distant expression, the silence in the room growing heavier. gojo’s hand clenches into a fist by his side, his eyes pained as he watches you fiddle with your skirt. geto’s eyes flicker to gojo for a moment before refocusing on you. he seems to struggle for words, his expression filled with regret. “can you look at us?” he says softly, his voice carrying a hint of pleading.

you slowly lift your gaze, meeting their eyes. the hurt is still there, but you try to convey a sense of willingness to listen and understand. “i’m here,” you say quietly, your voice steady despite the lingering pain. “i’m listening.”

gojo's hand reaches out, almost involuntarily, to take yours, his fingers intertwining with yours, as if seeking some physical connection to ground him. his grip is gentle but firm, a plea for forgiveness and understanding in his touch.

geto's eyes flicker between your faces, his expression taut. “we’ve been careless,” he says, his voice thick with remorse. “we’ve been too lost in other things and we didn’t pay enough attention to you. and that was wrong of us.”

as geto speaks, his remorse is evident in his voice, you take a deep breath. “you’ve been ignoring me for weeks,” you say, your voice steady but tinged with the hurt you've been holding onto. “it wasn’t just about not paying enough attention. it felt like you didn’t care at all, and that really hurt.”

they both flinch at your words, their expressions crumpling with guilt. gojo’s grip on your hand tightens, his eyes dark with remorse, while geto nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting yours again.

“we didn’t mean to make you feel like we didn’t care,” geto says softly, his voice filled with regret. “we were just…” he trails off, struggling to articulate the weight of their actions.

gojo steps in, his voice strained. “we were dealing with some stuff, and we didn’t handle it well. there were ongoing issues with the higher-ups, never-ending missions, and the stress of yuuta and yuji’s executions. the pressure from the school and everything else just piled up, and we let it affect how we treated you.”

the added context helps to explain their actions, but it doesn’t completely erase the pain. the burden of their responsibilities and the way they’ve neglected you come into clearer focus, but the healing process will take time and effort from all sides.

you take a deep breath, your voice steady despite the lingering hurt. “i know you were dealing with a lot,” you say quietly. “i’m dealing with the same stuff—higher-ups, never-ending missions, everything that comes with it. but that doesn’t mean it was okay for you to shut me out.”

you squeeze gojo's hand gently, the firmness of your grip reflecting your resolve. “i understand that you were overwhelmed, but it didn’t excuse how you treated me. i needed you, and instead, i felt abandoned.” the words hang in the air, leaving room for reflection and a path towards healing.

they both hang their heads, their expressions marked by remorse. gojo's grip on your hand tightens, as if begging you to understand. geto’s eyes avoid yours, his guilt palpable. they both know you’re right, their previous justifications sounding hollow now.

gojo sighs heavily, his voice soft but firm. “we know we screwed up,” he says, his eyes meeting yours again. “and we're sorry. we truly are. we shouldn't have let our issues affect how we treated you. you deserve better than what we've given you.”

you take a deep breath, your voice trembling as you begin to speak. “i tried to take fewer missions because i know you both were worried. i wanted to be around more, to show you that I care. but every night... every night, when i’m in bed between you two, you turn your backs on me.”

your tears start to blur your vision, and you struggle to keep your composure. “no matter which side i turn, all i see is your backs. it felt like you were shutting me out, like I was invisible to you. i feel like i have nowhere to go, and feel more alone.”

the emotion in your voice is raw, and the tears that spill down your cheeks only deepen the weight of what you’re expressing. the room fills with the sound of your quiet sobs, adding a poignant layer to the shared moment of vulnerability.

their eyes widen as you continue, their expressions turning pained as you lay bare the depths of your hurt. gojo's grip on your hand turns almost crushing as he listens to your words, his heart clenching as he hears the anguish in your voice.

geto's face is pale, his throat bobbing as he swallows, the sight of your tears a physical manifestation of the pain they've caused. gojo's voice is rough, his eyes fixed on yours. “we didn’t think you felt that way,” he says, his voice hoarse. “we’re sorry. we were idiots.”

gojo’s other hand reaches up, cupping your cheek gently, his thumb wiping away some of your tears. “please don’t cry,” he mumbles, his voice cracking as he watches you cry. geto sits up straighter, his eyes fixed on your tear-stained face. “we’ll fix this,” he promises, his voice filled with resolve.

gojo nods, his eyes soft as they roam over your face. “please, just let us make it up to you,” he says quietly, his hand still holding your cheek.

you take a shuddering breath, your voice wavering but firm. “you know how it was at home before i came to jujutsu high. i was always walking on eggshells every day. i don’t want to feel that way with you two. i love you both so much, and it hurts to feel like i’m just an afterthought.” the weight of your words hangs in the air, a poignant reminder of your vulnerability and the deep emotional connection you share.

you look at them with a mix of sadness and fear, your voice trembling. “and i feel so scared because i’ve started to think that maybe I should leave. i don’t want to, but the way things have been... it makes me wonder if staying is just going to hurt more.” the admission is heavy, your fear of leaving mingling with the pain of feeling disconnected. It’s a vulnerable moment, revealing the depth of your uncertainty and the impact their actions have had on you.

their eyes widen at your words, their expressions changing from guilt to fear. gojo’s hand tightens on your cheek, his eyes turning desperate, while geto’s hands clench into fists in his lap. gojo’s voice is strained, his eyes searching yours. “please don’t talk like that,” he murmurs, his tone pleading. “please don’t even think about leaving.”

geto scoots to the edge of the armchair, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and desperation. “you don’t have to go. we can fix this, just stay.”

they know, from the moment you first got met each other and you told them they were going to go down in history as the world’s biggest idiots instead of swoon over them, that you’re not the type of person to be a pushover. they’ve always admired how you refuse to let anyone disrespect you or treat you as less than you deserve. from the beginning, they understood that once someone starts treating you badly, you’re ready to leave—no matter how much you love them—because your self-respect has always been paramount.

and now, as you stand before them, telling them that if leaving is what it takes to keep yourself at peace, you’ll take that chance and face the consequences, they can feel the weight of that truth. their admiration for your strength has always been part of what they love about you, but now that very strength threatens to take you away from them.

the fear in their eyes deepens, a reflection of the realization that they’ve pushed you to the edge, and they know you won’t hesitate to step away if it means preserving your sense of self-worth.

they sit in stunned silence for a few moments, the weight of your words sinking in. they know you well enough to know that when you say you'll leave, you'll follow through. the thought of losing you, of losing what they have, is too painful to bear.

geto breaks the silence first, his voice soft but filled with an edge of desperation. “you don’t have to leave. we can fix this.” gojo nods frantically, his hand on your cheek holding you more firmly now. “please, don’t talk about leaving,” he murmurs, his eyes pleading.

you take a deep breath, feeling the tension in the room as they hold onto you, their desperation clear. “i did think about leaving,” you admit, your voice is soft but steady. “but it was just for a second because i can’t bear the thought of living without you two. i love you both too much, and that’s why i’m here, willing to talk.”

their grip on you tightens slightly, a mix of relief and guilt washing over their faces. geto’s shoulders relax a little, and gojo’s eyes soften as he hears your words. “i don’t want to lose you,” you continue, “but i need to know that things are going to change. i need to feel like i matter to you as much as you matter to me.”

they both nod slowly, understanding the seriousness of the situation. their hands remain firmly on you, desperate to maintain whatever connection they still have with you.

gojo’s eyes are filled with remorse, his voice soft. “you matter to us,” he says quietly, “so much more than you ever realize. we’ve been idiots. we took you for granted, and we didn’t give you the attention and care you deserve. that ends now.”

geto nods, his expression taut. “we’ll do better,” he says firmly, his voice filled with determination.

they both hold onto you tightly, as if trying to convey the depth of their feelings through touch alone. gojo’s eyes are fixed on yours, his expression filled with remorse. “we’ve been so focused on our own problems that we neglected you,” he mutters, his voice soft. “that won’t happen again. we swear it.”

geto nods in agreement, his hand reaching out to hold your other cheek softly. “we were stupid,” he says bluntly. “we didn’t realize how much we were hurting you until you were almost gone.”

you intertwine your hands with theirs, holding onto them firmly as you look into their eyes. “i’m not going to apologize for how i acted this past week,” you say, your voice calm but resolute. “i was just trying to give you a taste of your own medicine, to make you feel the effects of your actions. but that doesn’t change the fact that i love you both so much.”

they both nod, their eyes dropping to your intertwined hands. they know you're right, that you don't owe them any apologies. they have hurt you, and they know it's up to them to make amends.

gojo speaks first, his voice soft but firm. “we don’t expect you to apologize,” he says, his thumb lightly caressing your cheek. “we deserve what we got. you had every right to react the way you did.”

geto nods in agreement, his hand squeezing yours gently. “we were selfish, careless,” he murmurs. “we’re sorry.” you smile softly at them, feeling the weight of their remorse in the way they hold onto you. “i don’t mind you prioritizing your work,” you say gently, your fingers tightening around theirs. “you’re the strongest jujutsu sorcerers, and people rely on you. it’s your responsibility, and i understand that. i just don’t want you to turn your backs on me again.”

their expressions reflect the truth of your words. they know the demands of their profession, and they know they'll always be expected to prioritize their work. but they also know they messed up by neglecting you in the process.

gojo’s eyes stay fixed on yours, his voice low. “we won’t let that happen again,” he promises, his hand gently squeezing your cheek. “we’re going to find a way to balance our responsibilities and give you the attention you deserve.”

you lean your side against gojo's chest, feeling the warmth and strength of his body. with your hands still intertwined with theirs on your lap, you look up at them, your voice gentle but firm. “please, just talk to me when you’re feeling down or overwhelmed or anything,” you ask, your eyes searching theirs for understanding. “i’m here for you, and i want to help. but i can’t if you shut me out.”

gojo wraps his arm around you as you lean against him, his eyes softening as he listens to your words. geto nods in agreement, his grip on your hand gentle but firm.

gojo’s voice is soft, filled with a hint of guilt. “we know,” he says quietly. “we were wrong to shut you out. we promise we’ll communicate better from now on.” geto’s expression is taut but sincere. “we’ll talk to you when we’re struggling, and we’ll make sure you’re still a priority.”

you smile softly at them, a sense of relief washing over you as you feel the sincerity in their words. “thank you,” you say, your voice filled with gratitude. “thank you for trying to sort things out instead of just letting it be.”

they both look at you, their eyes filled with a mix of guilt and love. gojo’s arm tightens around you, holding you closer to him, while geto's hand gently caresses your hand in his. gojo nods, his expression firm. “you’re too important to us to let things fall apart like this.”

geto's voice is soft but determined. “we’ll do whatever it takes to make it right again.”

they sit with you in a comfortable silence for a few moments, the air filled with a mixture of relief and unspoken emotions. gojo's hold on you remains firm, his broad chest firm and warm against your side, while geto's hand gently intertwines your fingers with his.

finally, gojo speaks, his voice soft. “can you promise us something?”

you hum softly in response, your curiosity piqued by gojo’s gentle tone. you glance up at him, waiting for what he has to say, still feeling the warmth of their touch grounding you.

gojo's eyes meet yours, his gaze unusually serious. “promise us that you won’t shut us out either,” he says quietly. geto nods in agreement, his hand squeezing yours gently. “we want to know when you’re not okay,” he adds, his voice firm but gentle. “we don’t want a repeat of this week. we don’t want you to feel like you have nowhere to go.”

you nod softly, feeling the sincerity in their words. “okay,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. the promise settles between you all, a silent understanding that things will be different moving forward. the weight of the past week begins to lift, replaced by a sense of renewed connection.

they both nod at your response, a visible relief washed over them. gojo's grip on you tightens again, his arm holding you even closer to him, while geto's hand gently caresses your fingers in his.

they both watch you for a few moments, their gazes filled with a mixture of love and newfound determination. they can feel the shift in the air between you, and finally, gojo speaks again, his voice quiet.

“can we ask you something?”

gojo smiles faintly, the sight of your smile melting away some of the tension in his own face. he glances at geto, who nods slightly, before returning his attention to you. “can we sleep with you tonight?” he asks, his voice soft and sincere. “we miss you.”

you playfully roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. “of course,” you say softly, “i miss you too.”

they both exhale a sigh of relief, their expressions relaxing instantly. gojo’s arm squeezes you again, his body pressing against you firmly. geto’s grip on your fingers tightens slightly as his eyes linger on your face.

gojo’s voice is low, the relief clear in every syllable. “thank god,” he mutters, his voice heavy but filled with something soft and sincere.

geto nods slightly, his eyes meeting gojo’s for a moment before he turns his gaze back to you. “we missed holding you,” he says quietly, his voice equally as sincere. you look at geto, noticing the lingering guilt in his eyes. geto’s gaze meets yours, his eyes reflecting the lingering guilt. “come here,” you say softly. when you tell him to come closer, he moves to kneel between your legs, his expression still marked by regret.

as you slip his long hair behind his ear, your touch is gentle and reassuring. “you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” you say softly, your voice filled with understanding. “i know you care deeply, and that’s why this hurts. but you’re not alone in this.”

geto's shoulders slump at your words, the weight of his guilt visibly lessening. his eyes stay fixed on yours, the regret in them slowly being replaced by a soft vulnerability.

he leans into your touch, his head tilting slightly involuntarily at the touch of your fingers to his hair. “i know,” he mutters, his voice still heavy with guilt. “i just wish i hadn't let it get this bad.” geto’s voice is soft, the regret and guilt audible in it. “i just… i just can’t forgive myself for causing you pain,” he murmurs, his voice strained.

you give him a reassuring smile, your voice gentle. “i’m not in pain anymore, so you can stop feeling guilty,” you say softly. “we’ve talked things out, and we’re moving forward. it’s okay to let go of that guilt now. we’re okay.”

geto’s eyes search yours, the guilt still visible but diminishing by the second. he nods slowly, his expression taut but hopeful. he speaks softly, his voice still laced slightly with regret. “i know. but i just… it’s hard to shake this feeling, you know? it’s like a knot in my chest that won’t loosen.”

you lean down and gently kiss his chest, then move to his neck and jaw, your touch tender and soothing. each kiss is a silent reassurance, conveying that you're okay now and that you're not mad at him anymore. your actions are meant to comfort and ease the lingering regret he feels, showing him through your touch that things are healing.

his breath hitches at the feel of your lips on his chest, his body tensing for a brief moment before melting into your touch. each press of your lips sends waves of comfort through him, the knot in his chest loosening with every gentle kiss.

he wraps his arms around your back, pulling you closer, his grip tight and unyielding. when your lips reach his jaw, he tilts his head to give you better access, his eyes fluttering shut. you pull away slightly, your hands still resting gently on his shoulders. you look into his eyes with a soft, reassuring gaze. “don’t feel guilty anymore,” you say gently. “we’re okay. let go of that weight you’re carrying. we’re moving forward together.”

his eyes open slowly, meeting yours. the guilt in his eyes has lessened even more, replaced by a deep vulnerability and newfound trust. he nods slowly, his hands gently pulling you even closer to him.

he leans his forehead against yours, his voice soft and sincere. “i’m trying, i promise,” he murmurs. “i’m trying to let it go. it’s just… it’s just hard, sometimes.”

“shut up, stop it,” you softly murmur. you gently move your hands from his shoulders to his neck, guiding him closer. “come here,” you whisper softly, pulling him towards you until your lips touch his.

he smiles faintly at your soft command, his body willingly moved closer to yours. he doesn’t protest when you gently pull him closer, his eyes closing instinctively as your lips meet his.

the kiss starts slow and hesitant, his body tense against yours as if he’s expecting you to pull away at any second. but gradually, his lips soften, the tension in his body melting away as he surrenders to the tender connection. as geto continues to lean towards you, your back gently presses against gojo’s firm chest. gojo's arms instinctively wrap around you from behind, his presence a comforting anchor as you and geto share a tender kiss. the closeness between all three of you creates a cocoon of warmth and reassurance.

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